Day Ten

Mistress comes home today. I'm putting on some finishing touches around the house. I know she is going to be tired and ready to be home to relax. I'm trying to make everything just as neat and comfortable as I can.

I've just cause to be more pleasing to her than ever. My time in chastity has me well motivated to please her. It occurred to me only today that if she doesn't think I'm good that she might withhold letting me free. I seem to have developed a leak of my own plumbing and any hint of anything that seems erotic to me has become a matter of heart pounding concern. I long for release by my mistress.

I've done everything she has asked as best as I can. Some things I wish I could do better though. I've done several extras that I hope please her.

Can't blog for to long. Can't think of her for too long. Things get a little tight and I can't concentrate on my work.

The 12 Days of Chastity - Day Two

It's a lot of factors. I miss Mistress already. And getting adjusted to my chastised life is amplifying every emotional sensation I have. It's an erotic, but eerie feeling to be locked up, with slut and her lover in bed in the next room.

I slept better last night. Was roused only twice. Body memory. It won't take long to adjust. But my epididimus is a little tender.

I spent the afternoon gaming. A leisure I've hardly engaged in at all the last 7 months. It was enjoyable to do something like that again.

I went to the house of my Mistress to care for her animals and check on things. One of her dogs won't eat without her hardly so I gave it treats and coaxed it into eating two handfuls of food for me. While I lavished her with praise. I could tell she had already eaten that day, not realizing yet our mistress is gone, but I wanted to be sure she ate really well. I feel it will be harder to get her to eat for me as days pass.

Mistress has left me with envelopes! One I could open right away, the others have the days I can open them written on them. The first is a list of expected shores to be done.

Not being one to let a small advantage slide, I'm going to take the time I've gained by unemployment and wok very hard for Mistress while she is gone. She has commented on how I just can't quite stay on top of things like I thought I could. This is my chance and will also help keep the pets healthy with a prolonged human presence rather than a visit of an hour or two.

I came home about midnight with slut and lover already down in our bed. I'm taking to the futon still haunted by the strange feelings that this entrapping, in more than one way, has brought.

The 12 Days of Chastity - Day One

I awoke in the night about 4 times with attempts at nocturnal erections. It's been so long since I've had any experience with a device, the body has fallen back into that habit.

This is no concern of mine today though. I get up for the day still very close to spacy from the the beating, capturing (collaring) and caging that I experienced last night. As I stumble out of bed to try to shake off my body's straining against it's new prison, I realize in my head that the center of my being, my energy, my focus, chi, power core, whatever term you will, is still knocked out.

I'm walking around in reality with a feeling of everything being surreal. Did everything that happened, happen? Did it happen the way I remember? Or has my imagination intensified or justified what has happened to make it more than what it is?

...Treated, just the way I've always wanted and needed to be, something kin to a wild and dangerous animal (nothing new), but this time pursuied and captured, collared and caged (very new) Had I told her those secrets?
Those fantasies and desires that I have envisioned for so long? No. I'm sure I haven't. There are some things still to close to the center of myself I've yet to reveal. I still insist, even after ALL that has happened, on subconsciously holding on to that shield, hiding behind that wall, that foul mantra:

I'm a pariah.

But no amount of previous subconscious conditioning, or 'evidence' can deny the facts. And, knowing my enemy within, it seems more likely I would try to play down the events that happened into something less than the level of acceptance they were intended to be (see last post). Rather than, use them to build up my esteem and break down that wall, and split that shield.

I reach down and try to ease the ache. The design of these devices has still come a long way. I know that I could pull out of the back without the 'points of intrigue in place' But alarms go off in my head if I even contemplate trying.

On my feet, the discomfort of the CB3K begins to avast. Even though I can feel it around my neck without my fingers, I have to reach up and touch the silver chain choker collar that is locked in place around my neck. My head threatens to swoon into subspace as I remember the events that put it there.

I remember after the fact calling her the 'Steve Irwin' of dominants. I had arrived on Thursday for my last playtime before Mistress was to go out of town. I knew the CB3K had arrived. She had even made the threat to put it on me for while she was gone. But I didn't believe her. Or, I didn't want to at some level, because the "pariah" inside me could ill afford it.

She took me upstairs and changed to a sleeveless shirt while I retrieved the toys and stripped naked. She started me out in the usual warm up position of me gripping the bar of her weight bench, but she laid into me very sternly from the start. The same intensity as the last, more unique beating I got. The cane bundle, the viper lash, and the hairbrush warmed me up. After came the first of my surprises, a blindfold. This was new. She told me that she knew it wasn't total (because of the design I assume) but it was enough to keep me from seeing what was coming.
In truth, though I never told her, it was a total blindness because the material of the fold was against my eyes and I kept them shut out of reflex. It's the theory that blindfolds, gags and such increase the sensitivity of the body. Shutting down one or two senses awakens the others to a new sensitivity. I found myself to be no exception to theory as she clamped on the clover clips and bent me over the bed to continue what she started on the bench.

What was different was I felt bent over even farther than usual. I couldn't tell if it was my skewed perception because of being blind, or if she had positioned me a step further back from the bed to bend me over.

I decided she had indeed done so when I felt her leg between mine gently kicking the insides of my calves to spread my legs out further. God I felt so exposed and vulnerable. I lost my grip on holding my shame down to the fingertips when she made comments on my position. I chided myself internally. I must be some more slut to be all but spaced so easily.

Out came the floggers. The opening swings being between my legs. I had never experienced CBT until the first time with the paint stir the other night. I had never even considered it. Now my sense of shame deepens and threatens to swallow me as I realize that I am liking it. I bend my knees just slightly, but nothing gets past her when she's in this mode. She laughs and hurls several comments on what a slut I am. After, the beating of my back and bottom continues.

Again like the last play session, she has me get on the bed in the position of my knees under me and my face in the mattress. The second surprise of the night is that she tries the long, wide, wooden frat paddle on me in a bruising spanking on my stretched thin buttocks. When the blows fall I yelp and my head snaps up in a reflex action. A couple of times she pushes my head back in the mattress, finally just getting on the bed with me, coiling a strong arm around my waist to control my struggles as she works on me with yet another salvo.

She releases me and tells me to rest a moment....A rest break! I think. It's been a long time since she simply took a break instead of stopping there. I collapse on the bed and curl into a near fetal position. It's a strange reflex that I don't realize I do until after the fact. She smokes a cigarette
and I think she speaks to me some, but I don't remember anything said. I'm floating blindly a haze of deep subspace.

After a time she instructs me to lie down flat, face down. I comply in that clumsy manner I do when the connection between mind and motor function is so overloaded. Thighs and bottom receive not only the wartenburg wheel, but the hairbrush as well. I don't remember all the toys used. But I do remember a long and stern beating from my back down.

Then, it happened. I felt her climb on top of me. Sitting on my hips she bends low deep into my ear. I can feel her breaths for several moments and feel something cold around my neck....

The collar! Oh my god she is collaring me like this! Like you would capture a wild animal. Darted, or hooked if you will then worn out on the struggle of a harsh and delicious beating, then dazed and helpless, captured and collared.

It's almost over by the time I realize just exactly what's happening. When she is done she has me roll over. I reach up with thick, almost numb, trembling fingers to feel the heavy chain on my neck. The silver is cold, but in my perceptions it feels like it burns. A significant symbolism I would think.

I start to rise up, thinking that this was the end of the scene for sure. But a "where do you think you are going?" quickly has me lying flat again. Time for yet another surprise.

I don't know what the toy was. I can't say I would have known if I had been able to see it, but the beating I took on my chest and nipple both BEFORE and after the clover clamps were removed was one of the most intense sensations I can remember. So much so I was physically struggling to hold my position. It was exquisite. And not yet over. Moving down my body she spanked at my thighs and sex with the paint stir, then with her words, in that tone of voice I has spoken so much of, even without knowing her gaze, She opened the world beneath me, though I thought I was at the deepest end. I don't have words for the sensation that her remark brought. I don't have anything in myself to compare it to. But I know without question It was the Coup de Grace on my power core.

"Spread your legs like the slut you are!"

I obeyed, but I was too numb, to overwhelmed, to even cry. She beat my scrotum and my thighs with what I think was the same 'new' tool she had used on my chest and nipples. It hurt. Oh how wickedly and lovingly it hurt. Everytime we play I have a new favorite toy, And this time, I can't even identify it.

That was the end of the scene. At least all I will speak of. Some time later I stood behind her in nothing but one of my airbrushed tee shirts that says "Intercourse You". I'm holding the box with the CB3K in it and my poor, hazed mind is trying to calculate if I will please her, or push her by asking if she indeed wants this deed done before I dressed. Like I said not thinking clearly. It would have been nothing to undress for it if she wanted to do it in her own time later. I don't know why I do that. But she did indeed have me put it on to stay as she threatened. Again, I have underestimated her.

This morning I chatted with Mistress. It was a long conversation where she cinched shut any hope of my sexual freedom. Not only is this device padlocked around me, but so is her will.
She made it clear she was going to tease me mercilessly, and at her whims. And that anything unfortunate, or compromising happened to or around the device, she would be most disappointed. I was still spacy before we talked, her words drove me right back down into deeper space again. I assured her I would not even look at the emergency key left behind.

How True

"Passions are likened best to floods and streams, The shallow murmur, but the deep are silent." Author: Sir Walter Raleigh

Needless to say as a blogger I murmur a lot. This is also true of me as a submissive. I am forever going on about something. Even when what I say will be the wrong kind of trouble.

Things I shouldn't say I do, but there are times that I don't say what's on my mind when I should.

Sometimes it's fear, like every thinks it is, I admit to having a fearful respect for words. They can cut just as surely as a sword. And in this lifestyle, they wound far worse than a sword would.

Sometimes it's case of losing the window of opportunity to speak to this caution, or to my limited abilities to communicate. By the time I pull my thoughts together into the proper words, the window of opportunity had closed to speak them.

But of all the reasons that things do not get said. Holding on to a dear passion out of sheer volition is the worst. Something you want to reveal. Something you want to risk, and yet you don't for the simple reason that the passion in question runs so deep it taps into the bottom of your heart and soul. It is one of those few, rare passions that helps define the very essence of who you are.

Past experience, distant past and recent, has taught me it is better to leave those floods of deep waters undisturbed.

When you go off the map.... There they be monsters.

That is how I see my passions. Wild monsters, ravenous and insatiable. I also carry with me the most discouraging thought that I am the only on that can hold them. That if / when they do get loose. There is no one else who is willing to capture, or tame them.

And yes, they do occasionally get loose. They forever seem to be testing the cage of my soul and any moment of true weakness I have, they are there to charge the gate. All it takes is a moment of depression, or a moment of sickness (like with a recent fever) and they are out in the open. Either showing off the monster I am within, in bringing to harm the one's I care for and my relationships. Or, revealing way too much about myself to someone who really doesn't want to know. Most of the time I wind up calling it self sabotage.

It's true that you can boil most of it all down to various fears and insecurities. But until you have lived through trying to work something like this out with someone else, it's hard to understand.

That said, I've awoken this morning to a sense of dread that history is about to repeat itself.
there were three major events happen during playtime last night. I'm only processing one at a time I kind of have to because of a case of "but first syndrome" as it was recently put to me.

I want to talk about and dwell on A; But first.....B

As of last night, I have a keyholder again. A working CB3K is padlocked around me. I was very happy with it last night, and even now, with everything else that happened, I am still very much under the influence of subspace. But still nightmares managed to creep in. Half memories, half dreams prodded me into an arena of fear this morning as I awoke to my subconscious whispering in my ear dread words; reluctant keyholder.

I'm trying to reason it out in my mind. Yes, it was my idea. But yes, she also agreed with my reasons when I opened up some about them. Yes I locked the lock on myself. But yes, I did it in front of her with her approval. Yes she seems laissez-faire. But yes, it was her idea to lock it on me over the holidays.

Anyone who ever gets into the tussles of justification knows how difficult reason has winning over emotion. Pray for the Republic.

Good Hands

I came home from my Mistress' this morning feeling really flighty and buzzy over that bittersweet high I get from tease and denial. There is a lot to anticipate. And, there is a lot to dread. She is about to go out of town for about 10 days for xmas. I'm going to tend to her pets and her home, but I am going to be without her touch, her voice, and her discipline.

There are other things that am in great anticipation of...But they are so close to my heart that I dare not speak of them, or what I hope for them, for fear of jinxing myself. It seems everything I ask for directly comes to ruin, so I just don't dare bring much up. I know it's just something inside of me, but still, until I break the cycle of learned helplessness I'm in about it. Mum is the word.

I can say that Mistress is telling me there is going to be a list for me while she is gone. She has said list, and she has mentioned envelopes. Beyond that I have no clue. She has told me as part of my wicked teasing last night, that part of tomorrow night will be a partial revealing of the things this list has in store for me.

Whatever it may be, list, tasks whatever, I can't wait. It is yet one more opportunity to please my dominant. Please my Mistress.

My Mistress has such good hands. She plays it down, that she doesn't always. But I discount that. She has great hands. Especially when and where it counts.

The last ouchies I had was the other Tuesday, 12/8. I've been running screaming so much with my job, I've had NO time to dedicate my tribute of gratitude and boasting on my Mistress as I should have. It had been 17 days since our previous ouchies play. This was mostly due to illness on both our parts. But to say that I was hungry for the attention and the love that only comes from her soul nourishing delivery of pain is an understatement.

The evening was pretty standard fare. I brought her some of her favorite brand of tea because I knew she was out. (She did not ask me to do this, but, I am a thinking and willful submissive, not a slave. I don't have to be told. I burn with the desire to please my Mistress any way I can).
I brought the makings for chili from a kit, but she had already laid out what she wanted for dinner. She greeted me that day as I brought my bag in with one of my favorites. She sternly grasped my nipples in her vice-like grip and lifted me up on to my toes. She held me dangling there so long I had to drop my overnight bag. The weight of my change of clothes and toiltries
becoming like tons under her spell and gaze. Moaning, I lose myself in the sensation and the reassurance I feel.
She tells me that there will be no ouchies tonight, but there will be Thurs. She sends me to my tasks of emptying the dishwasher and refilling it. I wash some of the extra dishes that won't fit.
She wants me to save them for the dishwasher, but I must admit, sometimes I am jealous of the automatic interloper on what used to me MY job and MY task and MY opportunity to please her. I realize it's madness to feel that way about an appliance, but, there are only so many effective things I can do with my hands to please my Mistress. I hate to lose any chance to earn her favor with my gifts.
I prepare dinner and serve it to her in the living room. We sit and watch a movie together. It is a most relaxing down time. I pet the animals and tend to her as needed.
After, she asks if I want to get my hands on her...*eg* silly question. I nearly gush at the chance to express my desire.
She leads me upstairs where I am given a most special treat. She undresses for me to massage her back in the full light of the overhead bulbs. I'm sure this was not even a thought to her, but it was a special thrill for me. Normally, we reduce the light to candlelight, or a small lamp for the sake of ambiance. So it was special for me to be able to take her tremendous beauty in with my eyes as well as my hands. I've barely started on her calves and legs when she tells me she's in the mood for the percussion massager tonight because of how sore she is. Like a shot I grab the instrument and begin to very carefully canvas her skin and muscles with the machine.

I'm a bit out of practice with my massage. It's been a couple of years since I've been able to practice it regularly. I have a gift with what I do (at least I like to think so) I have long, and strong fingers with sensitive pads. I can feel the way muscles run and attach to bones. I can feel swelling and inflammation in bundles of muscle, and I can home in on places that need the most attention. It had been long enough that I had to "review" her body and find where some of the places that she liked to have worked on were. Worse, I slipped several times while wielding the percussion wand and make the motions less than fluid, and soft. Of course I made apology for it, but she either didn't notice, or the treatment was good enough that she didn't care. She seemed to drift off, so I stopped and watch her rest in the comfort of my work. That is one of the better rewards for doing a good massage. But she stirred in only a moment and began to rub her eyes and temples. I offered to massage her face at that point and she took me up on it. I fetched the milk based body cream that I use for such areas as she tuned over. As gently, and lovingly as I could I put all my attention and focus into what I was doing. All the world faded away but for the tips of my fingers gently massaging the pristine skin of my Mistress' temples, cheeks, jaw, and brow.

When I was done. She was ready to rest. We turned out the lights and I slipped out of my clothes and got under the covers at her side. We talked for several moments about scattered things. She teased me with the tidbit that she has been window shopping for a collar for me, and not just a collar of consideration either. She talked about the email that I had sent her, and about my ideas and the feelings that I had driving them. She told me directly that she knew that I had been watching her sleep. (Busted!)

As we were talking she suddenly reached out to me. As quickly as a striking snake, she dug her nails into my thigh and dragged them up my leg, across the inside crease, and up my stomach and chest. She did this so suddenly, so fast, and so hard that the only reaction I could even make was a yip of surprise, followed by a shaking shudder, like reacting to a violent chill.
It was actually more of a collision than a chill, the surge of adrenaline coming up my spine colliding with the rush of the sudden drop of headspace coming down. The result leaves me helpless as my insides are now imploded mush.

Whatever cause you want to put to it, she finds the reflex that I demonstrated to her touch to be pleasing. She coos and laughs as she again draws her nails aggressively across my body and again is greeting by my helpless shudders as I drop into subspace and moan out my pleasure.

She toys with me this way only a moment, then, using that special tone of voice that she has; That way she speaks when she has let slip the wicked dominant woman in her. That way she talks to me that I have no defense or resistance for. That way in which my body moves to obey before my mind can grasp what is happening. She speaks to me.

She tell me to go into the play room and retrieve the cane, the Viper lash and the Wartenburg wheel.

I try to speak, I know better than to, because I know I sound like a moron when I try to talk in this condition. When she spaces me intensely, when she is dominating me and I can feel her power, and that gaze from her eyes I cannot bear to meet, I lose some part of my motor function. I stutter, and my tonuge will not work right. Elocution goes right out the window and I sound, even to myself, like a frightened child. It's humiliating in a way. In another way it is most humbling and only serves to make me even more lowly. I have to wonder if that is why she likes to ask me questions when I am that way. Does she hear what I hear? Does she know what she is doing to my insides? I've never asked. Mostly because I want to assume she does indeed know, and does it to me with relish. That thought makes me so much belong to her in those moments.

I relate to her in this broken way that I thought she was going to wait until Thursday. I have already returned with the toys by the time I can get the words out.

I don't look at her, I don't dare. I don't know if she smiles or not, but I feel that she is. She says she has changed her mind. That my reaction to her touch has made her want to beat my ass. As she told me when she ordered me to get the toys.

The overhead light is on again. She is still naked, but now, so am I and I feel it. I can't even think of looking upon her to admire her now. I want to, but all I can feel is that indescribable float of space, and the humility of being naked and vulnerable, body and soul, before such a powerful and awesome woman.

She has the clover clamps waiting on me as I stand before her. With worthy skill she quickly clips them to my erect nipples. Commenting on how they always seem to be that way.

She makes me feel a flush. I feel like the slut I am. I try to hide it, cover it with the way I dress, my smartass attitude, and my humor. But there is no defense here. No hiding what I am when I am naked and in her hands. I'm a slut....Her slut.

But she has not yet begun to rub my faux pride and my smug exterior into my slutty soul. Tonight she is going to turn me inside out.

She has me bend over from where I'm standing and put my hands on the bed. It is a deep, exposing and embarrassing position. She moves behind me with the cane in hand. I'm trying not to whimper at the exposure and vulnerability of my body and my self. I don't remember now, but I'm almost sure I was failing, even before she spoke again in that soul chilling voice.

She asks me if she should warm me up, or just start marking me as she plans to. I moan to her and I try to get my brain, and my tounge and my voice box to work in unison for an answer, but they won't. I've lost the ability to communicate just as surely as if I had been tightly gagged.

"I think I have my answer" she coyly replied to my groans and struggle to speak.

Without another moments hesitation she begins to cane me, then seamlessly flog me with the viper tounge. It hurts. It hurts more than usual. Looking back it must have been the mix of surprise, the speed and the intensity in which she took me. But I needed it. God how I needed it to hurt. Despite the little reflex jumps I made when I was struck I drank in every blow, every lash. I cherished every burning blow to my thighs, my bottom, my back. Then every pin prick as she rolled that wonderful sadistic wheel all over me.

I was lost, even to myself in the experience. I now had the same focus and intensity that I projected out to massage her beautiful face, now turned inward. Every kiss of love from the touch of the toys of my Mistress was all there was in the world.

But, she was still far from done with playing with my body, and my mind.

"Did you see the hairbrush when you were in there?" She asked

I either nod, or gasp out an affirmative. I don't remember.

"Go get it for me." she orders. Oblivious to my panting.

The other room seems a mile away. My legs are rubber, my insides are gelatinous ooze and my brain is spinning. Still without a thought, I move to obey.

When I return I crumple to a heap before her and offer her the new instrument. I lowly bend down and kiss her feet. I'm worshiping her now. She is all I know, she is all there is.

As I raise up, and awkwardly stand up. She shows me what she has had in her hand that I have obviously missed. A wooden paint stir! All I remember out of my thoughts at the moment was "Oh my God! You wouldn't dare!" Of course I did not say it.

She asked me if I remember the position I had gotten in another time she had hairbrushed me. On the bed with my knees under me and my bottom stretched up and my face in the mattress.
I nod. Remembering the last time I had volunteered to get in that position and she had commented on how that position would hurt more.

As I wordlessly climb up on to the bed to assume this position, she lightly smacks at me with the paint stir, asking if I remembered us talking about using one as a toy. I realize that my perception of the night must be true. Pain was the name of the game. She was using the most painful toys, in the most painful ways for the intent of hurting me, as much if not more than for her own entertainment. I don't know if or how this is any different than any other scene, but the thought send new shudders into me. Forgetting for a brief moment I was still wearing the clover clamps, they scrape across the top of the bed as I settle into the position. I gasp and moan and shudders that would not stop for the rest of the session took me. I shook uncontrollably as she began to fiercely spank me with the wooden hairbrush. Every blow was hard. I could feel the impact vibrations through my whole frame. She would leave the brush on my bottom for an extra split moment. It seems she was squeezing every bit of the impact out of the pain toy and into me. Her pace was relentless and without any mercy to my shaking and shuddering form. Sobs and cries were answered with blows just as hard as the last. My head would jerk up and I would almost rise out of my place with the ferocity of the blows. After pushing on my back a couple of times to put me back into my place, she finally reached beneath me and took hold of the strings that were tied to each clover clamp. Taking each sting she pulled them together so she had me by both nipple clamps in the center, she pulled down and my burning nipples, crimped in those wicked clamps for longer than they ever had been before, followed as I wailed. She delivered a volley of incredibly hard blows with the hairbrush while holding me down in place by the clamps. Looking back I am amazed at her strength and agility to be able to do that.

I was mad with the sensations. I was saying "Ow!" she told me later. But in that moment when she had me like that. A way I had never been, I felt a way I have never felt. Time seemed to slow for me. I tried to scream "I love you Mistress!" to her. But all that would come out was sobs. I won't try to describe that moment more than that. It's too personal. But I can tell you in that moment I have never, NEVER felt anything like it. More than pain, more than pleasure, more than lust, more than love. She could have told me in that moment that she was god, and I would have believed her without question. Since that moment in time. I have never looked at her the same as I did before she held me down and beat me so. There are no words to express what I feel for her, for her domination of me, or for myself in that moment. I can tell you though I truly loved myself and everything I am in that space of time. And that is a rare thing indeed.

By the time she is done and orders me onto the bed flat on my back, My hands are buried in the blanket. I had gripped it so hard I had trouble getting my fingers to uncurl and let go.
I obey her and she begins to run her hands and her nails all over the front of me. Finally, she settles on my sex. Playfully toying with it. One of her favorite and humiliating comments about it is that it leaks. She never fails to point out when I am leaking on her, her covers or on myself and the comment never seems to lessen in it's sense of helpless shame I feel. So helpless, and so aroused, and so closely scutinized.


It is then she begins to wield the paint stir, and bring it to bear. At first on the insides of my thighs. First lightly, then harder as I gasp with pleasure with each blow. She moves up to the head of my engorged shaft that she has gripped in her hand so hard it hurts of it's own torture.
more slaps of the miniature wooden paddle on my glans. And still more uncontrollable sounds escape me as I lay dazed. My heart thundering in my ears.

When she moves down to my scrotum, I instinctively opened my legs. I had not even realized I had until she commented on it. I don't remember what she said. I think she asked if I wanted it harder, to which I nodded just as instinctively. I question my own sanity at that moment. Through my tears and my shame at just making myself out to be an even bigger slut than even I dreamed I was, I dare a glance up at this woman who is doing these things to me.

She isn't looking back at me. I'm glad. I think I would break down if I was to meet that gaze now. She is watching what she is doing. My hard erection in her incredible grip of one hand, and the pain stir in the other as she brings it down on my thighs and my scrotum and glans with surgical precision. I gaze into her face and I see many things. I see intense concentration and seriousness on what she is doing. And, after a paticularly reactive blow, she smiles.

The side profile of this golden skinned, raven haired naked dominant beauty is more than I can take. I think of what might be the motive for that curl of a smile on her face, and my heart finally melts down. Tears from the heart, rather than from the emotions, and stimulation come forward. I try so hard to hold them back. I'm too emotional as it is. I cry way too much.

I'm shaking apart and have been for long minutes. I'm utterly spent inside and out when she lets go. I lose all track of events beyond this point. I know that she goes to the bathroom, and I remember being grateful for the chance to sob alone for just a moment.
I don't remember, but she must have ask me if I was ready for a release. For that is what she granted. One that happened almost instantaneously and one that was so intense I remember nothing of the rest of the night.

Needless to say, I'm still feeling flashes of euphoria when I reflect on this night. The energy I have drawn from it after being away from her has lasted longer than any scene I have had or played in my life.


I'm putting my enormous excess energy to the best use I can. Today I'm on my 4th load of laundry, I have peas soaking to cook, I have boneless pork ribs in mushroom gravy and whole potatoes in the stove, I have my special homemade spaghetti sauce simmering in a crock, I've two ribeye steaks that I have hand massaged in tenderizer and Montreal seasoning marinating up and ready to grill, brewed tea, baked potatoes, and about to make homemade Italian salad dressing, finally, I've laid out the makings for cornbread for when the peas have cooked and simmered overnight tonight.

I have good hands for submission. I love to cook, to clean, to pamper and massage body and hair. I love to work and do for my Mistress.

But with her hands, and her gifts, I can never compare.

Kitell..his eyes closed

Toutes les passions ne sout autre chose que les divers degres de la chaleur et de la froideur du sang.

Bruises and Marks and Stripes Oh My!

It's Monday. I have cane and lash marks on my back from Saturday. I still sigh like a teenager upon seeing their crush when I think of it. It is yet another first in a line of firsts and in a long line of desires that I have had my whole life.

Long I have longed to be cruelly beaten by a sadistically loving Domme from head to toe. To have every expected, and some unconventional places on my body beaten, bruised and sore. To have no place on me unoccosted by the kiss of cruelty. This is the closest I have ever come to that vision.

There are so many wonderful sensations to be felt. My head is not sore today but in times past she has pulled my hair so hard and for so long that I could feel the tugs for days after.

As I said, I could hardly ask for better on my back and shoulders. Hee hee hee!
I really did expect to be marked by a lash or flogger on my back before a cane. I have personally seen a flogging that left back marks and I do envy anyone who has been lashed by a single tail.

The tool of choice for my Mistress right now to lash me with is a little hybrid toy called a Viper and yes it does bite! Wonderful toy!

Then there is the funny purple cane bundle. Three canes on one handle with the option to bind them together into one with a band. Then there is the Black Lightning cane from Mr S leather that I gave to her as a gift.

God I'm driving myself nuts here. This is why I don't post about this stuff very much, but I just had to confess how I feel today... I LOVE my beatings!!!!!

I worry that Mistress can't keep up with me. That it frustrates her that I always want more. I know I don't stop nearly enough to gush to her about what she does for me does to me. And how much strength, confidence, self esteem, and just plain joy it gives me. But I can't. there are no words for the euphoria that happens. When I'm in space right after the event, I barely know my name much less have mastery of language, and life is so rushed in the week that although I want to do mountains of things to show her how grateful and happy I am, they all seem to get cooked in the grind of topspace life. That's very sad to me and I'm forever on the watch for the solution to that.

She went to a local femdom event this weekend, and if it is what inspired that beating I got, I hope she goes a lot more. But I digress. This weekend was a workshop on making a Dragon tail, a collaring ceremony, and a spanking demo.
I knew the event was coming for weeks. And I knew for weeks that I wasn't going. I thought I had a handle on it until the day of. Seeing her off to that event made me the greenest I have ever been over her. It's not that she gets to play with other submissive, I'm glad that she does. It's not that I want to go because I would be played with by other dominants, I don't have any desire for that. I confess that I am a TERRIBLE flirt but I am under her command not to play with any one else, and as long as I am under her, I will obey. And, am happy to do so.

I do get jealous of the stories that I hear. And of the fact it's the "Show off" submissives that are there. The best of the best each dome owns. Of other submissives and what they get to experience. There is one in their group I'll call M that I have just HATED! Well, hate is too strong a word, I've never even met the man, but I have coveted what he has gotten to experience.
I finally broke down and told Mistress this last night. She then began to play "Paul Harvey" and tell me the rest of the story. It turns out it's not all thorns and salt for M. He is a slave and his owner is most cruel in ways I would not want to be treated.

I really am lucky that my first true blue Domme is this nurturing, loving, healing, feminine woman that she is. I'm most fortunate I've earned the chance to be at her feet.
Sure there are things we may not do that I would like to, and yes there are things I want to try that she has no interest in. But I'm learning that EVERYONE is that way about something and that it's ok for me to feel that way.

And to tell the truth, she has told me of things that I had not considered, but now I want to try very much; She has expressed an interest in POSITION TRAINING! I never really thought about that in my fantasies, but then, I've never got to experience the total domination of a woman like this. I can now conceive that position training could be one of the most erotic
experiences that I have ever had.

I made a request some time back. In my training to ask for my desires, enough of my walls broke down long enough to ask her for something I both desire and dreadfully fear. I desire it because it would make me feel so dominated. I'm terrified because it will put me in a position of being almost completely out of control.

She told me she would grant this request. But it would have to be a special occasion, perhaps when my custom cuffs (that I am waiting for on PINS and NEEDLES) are at last finished.
I have figured, based on things that I've been told, that this cuff set hand made by my own Mistress will be the closest to a collaring I will get. So I Eagerly wait and hope for the time that I will have earned the right to wear them.

Yeah, the collaring ceremony made me green to. But it's way too impractical to be collared seeing that I'm a switch and have my own full time collared submissive. She asked me last night if I was more submissive than dominant in my switch nature. I was still buzzing alive inside from my marks, but even if I had not been, I would have to have been honest with her and told her yes.
A lot of switches I see can say "I'm 60% Dom and 40% sub. But I can't do that. It depends too much on the day you ask me and what's going on. I do most diffidently have a sadistic streak and enjoy giving marks of my own. Also if your looking for my submissive side when I'm out in public, forget it. My body language says Dom all the way.

I dress like a dominant a lot. In fact one of my favorite sensations is dress nice, or dominant to go to the house of my Mistress. Often, I'll kind of be in either a "dom" mode, or at least have a topspace attitude. Then, if I'm lucky, she begins to cast her spell on me. That look from her flaming sharp eyes. Her holding out her hand for me to take a kiss. And if I'm really lucky she "forces" me by her will in that tone of voice, to my knees with my head in her lap as she pulls my hair. Then, systematically breaks my will with her words and questions. From this position, having gone from feeling strong in myself to being humbled before her by pure dominant power that as a switch I could I could never possess, I melt into space with a simple question and answer session of "Who's are you?"

After this, she takes me to the playroom where she orders me out of my clothes. As I take of my garments that gave me my confidence and identity, I lose all the power of will and resistance I have and I become....(loss of words here) naked. Not only my body stripped of my "Protections" and bare before her, but when done with the above "stripping" I described I'm now naked body and soul. And I tremble. God how I tremble at her touch. Every nerve alive, she finally completes the circuit with a "stand up straight!" and I am lost. Even to myself I am lost and I become so hers. I feel like nothing more than her possession a toy she is about to play with. And I'm scared to death, heart pounding as I try to stay straight an rigid as she takes my nipples in her fingers and squeezes them til I moan through a trembling voice and my body quivers with that terror, that excitement, that joy.

I'm almost ashamed at both how little it takes to space me on her part under the right conditions, such as above, and of what kind of absolute SLUT I become when she melts me down. But god knows I am. Sometimes she will clamp my nipples and bend be over the bed to whip me. As she does I will dare a glance down and see my tortured nips and pure adrenaline flows as I survey myself naked, bent over before a fully dressed dom, and in pain. Then she comes being me and grinds her hips into my bottom. Sometimes I can almost feel the symbolism there and my knees get weak.

Speaking of weak knees I don't think I can write anymore without breaking one of the rules I'm under. More later maybe.

Sticking My 2 Cents In

I know, I know. It's been too long since I posted anything. I have a LOT to catch up on.

But First...

I don't contribute to the community nearly as much as I would like. Being a switch with a live in submissive, and being with my own dominant three nights a week, working more than full time and tryingt o help care for an ailing family member leaves me very little time to breathe much less be social, but I have been keeping up carefully with the postings, comments, and discussions going on at The Evil One's site and just wanted to stick my beak in the ideas around non sexual dominance and submission going on.

I want to attempt to capture my ideas on this matter from both sides of the coin if I may since I am an active switch. I'll start with the dominant side:

First of all, I am a person, not just a mindless dominating machine. I get things out of the relationship just like Anna does. While the focus of the matter centers around her needs, like to submit, and to feel the nurturing that comes from being submissive i.e. feeling loved, wanted, cared for, ect. And the need to have new experiences with sex, with pain, and so on, I do have certain desires of my own that I like to see fulfilled in this sexual arena. Don't let anyone fool you. Being a Dom is hard work. We don't call it work, we call it a joy to do of course, and that is absolutely true. I can never recall having the kinds of pleasures I have had since beginning to Dom Anna. Still, there is considerable effort put out by all your Dom's out there whether they will admit it or not. Obviously there is the physical labor, planning and setting up scenes, being able to change those plans 'on the fly' when things go wrong (like a leaking enema bag) and the plain physical effort that it is to do what needs doing in real life and still be able to spank your submissive beautiful bottom long after your arms ache because they just entered the magic space inside themselves. Now, before any submissive gets the wrong idea, and any Dom's get mad at me, let me make it clear. If you find yourself thinking "Oh GOD! I'm making my Dominant have to work on something they don't want to do! I have to quit, I'm a failure, (Insert pity-party mantra of your choice here) Just QUIT! Quit thinking that right now!
Bad Submissive! Your Dom loves you and does what they do because it makes you BOTH happy. Period, paragraph, end of notes. Got it?

There is also the mental discipline involved in being a Dominant. Especially a male dominant if you get my drift, and that's all I'll say on that. But other disciplines include trying to get inside the submissive head and find what little fires of passion are burning in there at the particular moment (they can change instantly it seems) There is the discipline of focus and attention. Watching for the tale tell signs of too much or too little stimulation. For example, when I use a hairbrush to spank Anna, I watch her very closely. I want to just lay into her and watch her bottom wiggle and turn red. I want to make her writhe while I hold her down and force her to take more. I want to hear her cry out, and cry tears. Oh God, I want that. Instead, I focus, and watch her. I try very hard to spank her hard enough that she gets right on the razors' edge of stimulation. It hurts, almost too much, but not quite. So she moans and wiggles just a little and most importantly, she feels alive! I want her in my lap thinking how good it feels, yet how she almost can't take it. I want her to feel that moment of truth when she wants it to stop, but she doesn't. Where she's thinking her safeword really loud, but isn't saying it.I well imagine for the experienced Dom, it's easier They have the skills. For me, it takes all my focus and mental discipline, and a bit of luck. But when I get her there, it's so moving, I sometimes would like to cry with her. Now don't get lost in the shuffle, we are still talking about non sexual acts and submissives so don't get worked up. Breathe....That's it. Relax.

Ok, so being a dominant is a lot of effort. But when it works it is more than well worth it. Hence, a dominant wants a good return on their efforts. No one invests a heap of anything hoping to get a stingy return. That is the beginning of where non sexual acts come into play.While it is a lot of fun to beat and sexually service Anna, at the same time I am a very visual and tactile person. (I like to look at her, I like to touch her) I get a lot out of seeing her dressed for me in a certain way. I get a lot out of certain body motions that she makes, that cannot be consciously duplicated. (I wonder how many people realize this about themselves.) I like to touch her in certain places and ways. And, I like to have her touch me, look at me, and express certain body language at me. All of these things that I dearly enjoy are not afforded merely within the confines of a sexual encounter whether it's vanilla sex or kinky.

My desire to see and touch her in these ways I find so attractive are a part of getting a holistic, sum total experience of Anna's body. Her beauty, her grace. None of us look or move the same. We all have bodies, we all move, we all have body language. But no two people use the same combination of these things. That is a large part of what makes us exactly who we are. (How many people realize that?) This is why you can just "feel" it when you hit it off with someone.

Your reading every combination motion that they are making. The interface of body and soul, and you are able to perceive that you like what you see of them.I would suspect that a submissive (especially in a relationship) that finds themselves asked or required to do things that make no sense, while they are scrutinized by their Doms very carefully, are in a situation where they are very attractive to their partner. These favors that I get from her have nothing to do with what is going on. I'm not trying to change her thinking all that much when I have her write sentences, I'm not looking for a sexy maid if I have her pick up around the house in the nude (I have not asked this of her but it is an example) I am not trying to humiliate her when I have her assume positions and pose, or tell her I want her to workout, or play Dance Dance Revolution for me wearing nothing but socks and my collar. These are all excuses. And poor ones I might add, for the truth. And the truth is... (Big breath before sticking my head in the noose)Being able to relax and not have to worry about what I'm doing, or saying, while she does those things, and just watch her move, feel her skin on mine, and enjoy her body and her fluid movements is an incredible turn on for me. And If I can get her to do it long enough, I begin to feel an incredible warmth of love and passion inside of me. Kin to subspace itself . I begin to feel like I must be a pretty special person myself to be treated and given to in such a way. It is inspiring. Awe inspiring. And it gives me strength, confidence, and will. Yes it is a power thing. But not the kind of power thing most submissives assume it is. It is an EMpowering thing. I don't know why this is so obscure. Maybe Dom's are unwilling or unable to admit this. Maybe they don't realize it themselves, or maybe I have just given away a secret that is not supposed to be revealed under pain of death and leather clad executioners are on their way to my house to kill me as you read this.


Huff Huff huff....long winded thing ain't I? Actually most of that is a copy/paste from an older posting I made on another blog. But the essence of it applies to this question so well, I decided to steal it from myself (Is that plagiarism?)

Now, if I can start thinking like a submissive without stripping my mental transmission, I'll try to
address the question from a more submissive p.o.v.

Really, the best place to start is to tell you about my visit to Mistresses' house (That can't be correct tenseing of a word but shoot me) last night.

Last night was my short night. The evening I come to serve, but don't spend the night.
On the outside what transpired is I arrived straight from work and showered as I always do. By the time I got out, dinner had been delivered and I served it right away. We sat down in the living room to eat, and we watched a movie. Her on the couch and I on the love seat.

When the movie was over we took a short break and went upstairs....to watch another movie, only this time stretched out on the bed. And that is exactly what we did. We watched the film with her piled up on pillows laying on her side and me curled up behind her propped up same same. Yes, we were fully dressed in our clothes. No, we did not "neck" (isn't that a funny word and term *eg*) And no, the subject of sex was never broached. At one point she turns her head back to me and says "You know I'm really enjoying this don't you?" to which I replied "So am I".

Unfortunately due to technical difficulties, we had to finish the movie back in the living room, but after the movie I made a quick soda run for her and hot-footed it home.

Now, does this sound like a hot d/s evening to you? Well...maybe not if your just in it for the sex, or the pain, or the .....(fill in your particular unipolar vice here) But for yours truely, it was a night of submission. Just as significant in it's own way as nights we play.

I've said it before, but it bears repeating. All the cyber subs, and "in it for the sex only crowd" really have made life tough for those of us who's goal it is in this lifestyle to be genuinely submissive. ONE: A good Domme who can find? For all the "play at it's" and "wanns be's"?
Besides me of course. I consider myself super EXTEMELY fortunate to have found my place at the feet of my Mistress in my first real search for a dominant.
but that brings me to TWO: With all the idiots out there just playing at being submissive to get laid and all that crap, a mistress can't be too careful in meeting and choosing a submissive to take on. One has to prove one's self quite genuine and worthy. I'm not saying this is wrong or even a bad thing. I completely believe that a submissive regardless of sex, should show their salt and mettle by investing in their dominant. But the thought has occured to me more than once that this process is much harder than it has to be thanks to so many less than genuine doms and subs alike out there.

So a joker like this might think of the evening I just described I had last night as a complete loss.
But not I. I came away very relaxed, accepted and validated as HER submissive. Let me try to explain by breaking down the events in terms of the emotional elements behind them:

As a submissive, I love to serve. I want to make her happy, comfortable, and content. In addition, I feel I am making one of the most genuine and sincere gestures of submission, and showing her that I am hers by doing things that do not directly result in sensual stimulation.
I am taking care of my dominant in a manner that is appropriate and useful. And that is the head of the nail. I am useful and not just a black hole of need and want. So serving her dinner, fetching her drinks, lighting her cigarettes is not a chore, or a play to get something else. It is an act of true submission and a reward to itself.

Watching the movies was what SHE wanted to do.
That should be 'nuff said... BUT I'm sure somewhere in the world some other dominant at some time wanted to just simply enjoy the company of their submissive over dinner and a movie at home, to relax and be comfortable basking in the company (Remember where I said as a dom that being a dom was hard work?) of each other without "performance" concerns, and to show their submissive that they were more than just a toy. And the sub got mad, or felt rejected due to poor understanding and self esteem, or just out of plain selfishness had a temper tantrum to be spanked or screwed.

It's pitiful, but I bet it's true.

What's wrong with some people? Dominance and Submission is a LIFESTYLE - a way of living day to day - Not some amusement park where you pick the thrill ride you want, ride it and walk away. Well I guess it's that way in BDSM clubs. But if you want to live the life, I got news for you. NOBODY is on, full tilt flinging floggers 24/7. That's just plain stupid and unreasonable. If you can't be comfortable in the life, and who your with, and with your role in the still, quiet moments. Your in the wrong part of town. You need to find a hobby.

What a pleasure it is to be able to curl up to my domme and simply be near her. Enjoy her presence. Now I admit I just had to find a patch of bare skin to keep my hand on. But I'm a skin slut. I love the feel of being connected to her. But I was not touching her in a sexual or seductive way. I was merely enjoying the bonding between us.

And how it melted me to gelatenous ooze for her to tell me how much she enjoyed my company. How she liked me being with her. How validating it is to know I am accepted for who I am and nothing more sometimes.
It is in these moments you find that you aren't being used to get housework done, you aren't being beat on just to vent some secret frustration, or that in her mind you are the effigy of someone or something else she is pounding on. (No, I have never thought that myself but I have heard of this being done)
It is in these moments as a submissive you truely feel owned, and not only owned but cherished. Just for being who you are deep deep down inside. Your not a sissy, your not a wimp. Your being yourself and accepted for it on all levels.

Pity the souls out there to shallow to explore d/s to these depths. They have missed it all.


(Editor's note: Because of my copy/paste my spell checker is having a siezure and my eyes are too blurry to do it myself. Forgive the blatent errors and look at the intent if you would.)