Rose Stone and Obsidian

Day Ten

2004-12-27T08:06:00.000-08:00

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

2004-12-19T00:09:00.000-08:00

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

2004-12-17T17:30:00.000-08:00

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

2004-12-17T05:07:00.000-08:00

"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

2004-12-15T10:51:00.000-08:00

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

2004-12-04T15:50:00.000-08:00

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!

2004-11-22T09:01:00.000-08:00

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

2004-11-05T13:14:00.000-08:00

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.)

Blue

2004-10-28T13:40:00.000-07:00

To borrow the phrase from the Evil one ....

I need some "delicious ouchies"

It's blue here. And no visit to Domme's this week at all.

(sniff)

spoiled little slut ain't I?

I can be so stubborn

2004-10-25T16:42:00.000-07:00

Me bored, alone, extra energy, and nothing planned. This is a terrible combination. I did something this afternoon that I will probably get yelled at severely. Especially considering the consequences.

First a little background. Since Thursday/Friday I have been suffering more back and neck pain than usual, extending to my jaw most of the time. I am being very stubborn about going back to the doctor for this. It was so bad Saturday night that I was making noises every time I rolled over in bed.

Fast forward till today. I was feeling a TON better. I slept well last night and most of the constant pain was gone. Then for some reason about 4 or 4:30 I just snapped. I went into MAJOR redecorating mode. But not on what I have been planning on doing... no I decided to rearrange the study. This involved moving a HUGE corner desk ( like 65" on the hypotenuse), a smaller desk, 2 3' file cabinets and a club chair. When I was about half way done I realised what a bad idea this had been. Since my back was already tight and my hands were getting sore. But being the stubborn person I am... I pressed on. When done I knew I had done something that was just totally stupid. But at the same time... I feel good about it. It looks so much better this way . I could have waited till M or Obsidian was there... but I felt the need to do it myself. I cannot explain why. But feeling the muscles tired for once, and that good kinda pain where you know you have worked something... at the same time, I did do the wrong kind of thing. My neck and jaw are letting me know I screwed up. So I suppose I will have to visit the dr tomorrow because of my stubbornness... The dogs are mad at me cause I kept them out of this room for so long... and I do not have everything back in here yet... but it feels good to have accomplished such a task. *sigh* talk about conficting emotions.

Thoughts... and ramblings

2004-10-22T13:41:00.000-07:00

I am in a very odd mood today. Its been a strange day lol but that is getting to be the norm around here. I am somewhat depressed and dreading the weekend. Although it will be wonderful since both my guys will be here... we have a lot to do. Also I am a but aggrivated at the way this week has gone. I am not one for regrets for the most part. I life in today with an eye on tomorrow and try not to think about yesterday. But I had so many plans and expectations with Obsidian being around this week.

I do not regret any of the time we spent together this week. I love having obsidian around. At times its almost like he reads my mind as to what things I need to have done or what is getting to the point of bugging me around the house. *smile* and his reaction when I take him to the room I have been using as a play room is wonderful. And he does make a pretty good teddybear =p.

He was wonderful this week. Attentive, helpful, sweet, everything I could have asked for. He was even wonderful when the girls would interrupt us. *smile* he seems to take everything around here in stride ... at times better than I do.

We did have a bit of a playtime Tuesday night when he got a fairly nice spanking.

I have to admit... I do love spanking that butt. He is one of those fast healers. I can have him angry red and 10 minutes later its gone. I can mark him just short of a break in the skin and its gone in less than 2 days. Even now... I want to take the belt, or brush, and hear him hiss as it hits his skin. Watch him wiggle as I stroke harder. Hear his gasp as I pinch his nipples after taking off the clovers. Hearing the struggle in his voice as he answers me. Holding him as he cries. *smile* making sure he does not stumble when he is zoned.

I love the fact we can have a conversation... a real one. He has a mind... does not always use it but then again, who does. I enjoy the time we spend talking, watching movies, and just having him in the house is a help.

I am still getting used to the fact that he is not going to balk, bitch, moan and complain if I tell him I am not in the mood to play, or if I tell him I want to game that night, or if I need to talk. I am used to looking for the catch. I am not used to one who is this open and honest. *smile* M is this way also, but he is not around a lot.

I suppose at times I am unnerved to a degree. At the trust that Obsidian puts in me. I am not used to that from another person. At the flattery he shows me, and he shows me its not empty flattery. At the desire and need he shows. It can be borderline overwhelming ... and I love it.

*smile* but this week was a pain in the arse, with all the outside problems. And Obsidian was there... doing what I needed whether it was listening, watching a movie, or cleaning. And I cannot thank him enough for it. I know it was not what either of us expected... but it was wonderful all the same.

The Week

2004-10-22T13:02:00.000-07:00

It was suggested to me by my sub that I might be black and blue and red all over by the time she returned from her trip to California on Monday. The suggestion I guess made me secretly hope that would be the case. As it was, it wasn't to be. As always, time and the universe is against me. Worse, Rosestone had special real life problems come up that required her full attention. Between that, and both of us making our required social appearances in our own circles, we pretty much spent the week vegging, talking, and resting. That is not a complaint mind you. An Hour with my mistress is worth a week's trouble. I have learned a great deal about her and hopefully what we have shared will serve to make our relationship stronger.

I'm not the kind of submissive that has to be "On" all the time, if you catch my meaning. Even when it has nothing to do with being submissive, I enjoy the time and company with Rosestone. She has already posted of the grazing I took on Tuesday. Wednesday we ordered a pizza in and watched Kill Bill 2 then talked. It was a most enjoyable evening except for the stress my Mistress is having to endure. Tonight we will go with others to a late movie. I plan on being on my best behavior tonight. I'd like to show her that I actually CAN behave in public ( A sight I think she has as of yet to see :p )

*sigh* There is still yet so much I want to give to her. So much I want to express that can only be said with acts of submission and service. Nothing validates the emotions of my soul better than running my oiled fingers and palms on her body over and over again, making the aches and pains of her life avast, even for a little while. It feels almost like a form of lovemaking to me, to be able to pleasure her whole being with the skills of my hands.
Likewise, is my desire to cook and clean for her. To see her well fed, and relaxed, without the pressures of a looming household on her so much. I see the way she smiles sometimes when she watched me buzz around, emptying ashtrays, washing dishes, chasing pet hair. Last Sunday I was busy mopping the hardwood stairs in her house when she slipped in. "You don't have to do that you know." She tells me. She has told me this before and I always answer the same. "I know. But I want to do it for you."

It's rare that she tells me exactly what to do. It's a joy when she does because there is no doubt that I am doing her will and making her happy in doing it, but most of the time I am simply in a "Find a need and fill it" mode. It's not required. In fact, I spent quite a bit of time resting in her chair in the study on Friday and Saturday. Weeks of overtime and brutal, blister raising work on my job have left me not at my best. There was plenty to do and I fussed at myself for not doing it. Worse, when there was some things I could have helped with, I crashed out and slept.
I felt guilty, but nothing was said. She isn't as hard on me as I am sometimes about what I do and don't do. She understands my battle with exhaustion, but I regret it deeply that I can't give her my fullest of efforts.

To me, this is a fundamental of my submissiveness. You hear it over and over again, "Submisison is a gift." A slave does not work as a gift to their Dominant, for a slave it's required and expected. I'm not a slave, so my work is my gift, a way to sing out the music that is inside of me. I can't help that I have more to give than even my mortal coil will allow me to express.

And time. Cursed time. There is never enough time to do it all. We always have to choose. Do I pamper her? Do I service her home? Do I cook and serve a meal? Or does she take me up to that special place, that wonderful room that I just find myself in in idle moments, so that she can impart on me her own gifts. The kisses of paddle, flogger, and crop. Or she holds me in the embrace of her fingertips, pulling me on to my tip toes by my nipples, and tightly hugs them with clips and weighted clamps. Then, after all that she reaches into me with those burning eyes and irrefutable voice and she absolutely fucks my mind until I'm so deeply spaced I'm not aware of the world. Kisses and hugs and love that no one in the world has ever loved me enough to give before. It doesn't matter what I do, what I give her. I can never out give the love she shows me as my dominant.

I feel bad that she has to deal with me as "damaged goods" sometimes as well. My last domme spurned my gifts basically saying what I had to offer was not worth the effort of keeping up with me. It's a wound that is still not scarred over enough to not be a near constant pain to both of us.
It was enough to make me give up all hope for a long time. Before I met her, I had resigned myself to dying with this music inside me. Now I can let it out in the few short hours I have a week with Rosestone, but now because of my wounds, some songs are sad, others tainted, and still some yet I still cannot utter.

But I give all I can, and I'm learning, healing, and hopefully making my Mistress happy in the progress and process.

What to do

2004-10-21T11:17:00.000-07:00

*sigh* since blogger lost my last copy of this I am going to try to redo it.

Last night I learned that Obsidian was a bad boy. He is required to ask for permission before doing some things like stimulating his nipples (touching etc.). He told me last night that he had played with his nipples without permission yesterday. Now this is a minor infraction I will admit, but I do not want it to become a trend. He is a bit spoiled as far as this goes and has not had to ask for permission before me. He did tell me about the infraction so I give him points for that. But at the same time I feel he should be punished since he did disobey me.

I am not a dominate who will withdraw from my sub as a punishment. And my little slut loves spankings and serving too much to use them.

I have had several ideas for punishment *smile* but this is one of those days where too many ideas are playing around in my head and I cannot decide on what I want to do. I have thought about not playing with him for a night. He has to be ready and prepared, but will not get played with. I had thought about making him write sentences... but ... I had thought about a few really distasteful tasks he could do here, but he loves to serve so that is not really punishment, since it would be helping me. I had also thought about using the crop with no warmup and with each stroke he has to say something like "I will not play with my nipples without permission". *sigh* but he might enjoy that too much =p.

What a wierd night

2004-10-20T04:20:00.000-07:00

To start with I did not get up till almost 10am yesterday. Then I wound up crashing hard before dark. This is very odd to me.

In better news I did manage to stay awake long enough to give obsidian a nice spanking. *smile* using the crop, 2 slappers, 3 floggers and a brush. It was hard to stop actually. When I get comfortable I love the feel of the swing, the impact, the sound. But he was getting some nice markings and since my goal is not to break skin it was a good time to stop.

This morning I have been restless and full of energy, but unable to concentrate on anything. Heh have already been workng on fixing a few problems and getting things ready for this weekend when the guys are supposed to be putting the new bathroom floor down. Lol now if I can sit down and actually do some *work* then I will be good.

evil grin

2004-10-12T21:03:00.000-07:00

I just recieved my 2 new floggers and I am soooooo happy. One is very very light tails. It has a nice movement to it. I am thinking Obsidian may feel it on his chest and perhaps teasing lower. I have not made up my mind about that. The other will provide a nice change from the heavy one I have been using. That and the 2 I have made and the 1 had previously... I have a good start on floggers. So its 3 leather, one horsehair, and one out of a leather strip/cord that is VERY stiff.

I spent some time checking out JT's Saturday night *smile* dang I am tempted by some of those paddles, canes, and toys.... lol but I will be good and not spend the money at this time.

terms and definitions

2004-10-12T01:17:00.000-07:00

slut, toy, pet, submissive, slave, dom, domme, mistress, serving... they all seem to mean different things to different people in this lifestyle. What one person sees as gospel, someone else would not see as even important. So are we better off to go by the strictest definitions only, try to make everyone adhere to the same ideals? Or should we make our own definitions based on the context of our relationship?

Some things are to be expected... dom, domme, mistress, master, etc are considered to be tops/dominates. Submissives, slaves, etc are considered to be bottoms.

Some are so open to personal interpretation... its almost overwhelming when trying to talk to another in the lifestyle. What is considered to be slutty behavior to one would be exceedingly mild to another. Where the name toy might be a term of endearment to one, it might be degrading to another. Same with the name of pet. It seems each sub and dom has a different idea of what serving is and what a propper submissive attitude is.

But yet, even knowing that there are these conflicts in people's vocabulary, there are those who will only accept their definition of words, and their useage. They expect everyone they encounter to behave in the way this person feels a dom or sub should behave, and react in the way that this person expects them to. *smile* like we are all preprogrammed to be like them (thank god no).

I know that most submissives I have talked to will mold themselves to a degree (the severity of the changes based on the individual and the relationship) to what the dominate they are talking to wants. But I have seen many many relationships break up because: the dominate is too strict and will not allow any diversity in their ways, the submissive is acting to be what the dominate wants, one or both is not truthful in what they are expecting, and one or both is not truthful in what they want/need.

A Ds relationship (to most I have talked to) is like taking a vanilla relationship and taking it to the 10th degree. It is not always easy, its not always perfect, it is a lot of work, and its very rewarding. The communication has to be more open than in most vanilla relationships I have seen. And part of this communication is making sure you are both speaking the same language... using the same terms in the same way... this sounds so simple... but I have had calls and emails from 4 different people in the last week for whom just this kind of thing has destroyed their Ds relationship.

What a night

2004-10-10T11:16:00.000-07:00

Saturday was ... unbelieveable for lack of a better more encompasing word.

I had a rough day and when obsidian finallay arrived... I needed an outlet for my frustration. It did not take long for me to get him upstairs and into position for a nice long spanking. I could not use my hand to warm him up as much as I like to *smile* so I went to the slapper fairly quickly, but started out lightly with it. Reaching around to the front of him to tweak his nipples, stroke his skin, and occasionally stroke his arousal.

I had been thinking about flogging him all day... and I watched his body react as I stroked the flogger along his skin. Then I started with fairly light strokes along his back and butt.

Watching his cheeks and back getting colored... clipping the clothespins on his nipples... tighting their grip... pulling his nipples with the clothespins... back and forth... strokes getting harder...

As I wached his knees starting to buckle a bit I moved him to lie face down on the bed... we cuddled a bit as I took a break... still stroking his butt and back...

He got the brush, slapper, my hand, flogger, back and forth... teasing... stroking... harder... clover clamps on the nipples... harder... working out my frustrations with the rhythm ... waching him ... knowing something was different tonight... knowing he was letting a lot of it go...

This time when I asked him if he wanted harder for a bit, he answered yes... he asked for the clover clamps, when given a choice for a finishing tool, he made a choice... he did so well... he finally was able to let go of some of his reservations and really let himself enjoy what I ws doing to him.

We had a very long night, and our play time was extended over at least one break...

bah running out of time... will add more later

Thoughts from my end

2004-10-08T13:27:00.000-07:00

Obsidian is not the only one who has been through a lot realising his potential in a Ds relationship. I have had to bury my dominance throughout most of my life... never being too overbearing or strong, or else getting saddled with the title of bitch or as at my last place of employment queen bitch. I have always been strong, but have had that southern ideal of a lady beat into my head. Quiet, working behind the scenes, trophy wife kinda thing, always seen and not heard, not seen when the men were having their man talk, never bucking the system. One of the reasons my ex and I had problems was I was not dominate enough for him. I was still fighting those old ideals of being feminine with who I was, and the public ideal of a dominate. And I had problems admitting to myself what I wanted and needed.

As I began working on making me like myself and be happy with myself, my dominate nature started coming out more and more in everyday life as well as in my relationships. But those relationships were never what I was looking for.

I can honestly say I am happier now than I have ever been. I am able to explore things that I had to reject in the past and have fun doing it. *smile* and I finally have someone who enjoys recieving as much as I enjoy giving. I have no complaints about the rate of progression or the level of things. I have no problems with the way we work things out, or taking things slow to let obsidian know that I am not going to run him off. And trying my best to let him know that he is indeed worthy, of attention and affection, as well as being dominated.

2004-10-08T06:14:00.000-07:00

*smile* I had intended obsidian's visit to be just what I had said. A nice quiet calm night of watching movies and cuddling. Unfortunately events conspired to leave me exhausted and wired at the same time. No sleep for almost 30 hours and the constant waiting on contractors to show up are not good combinations. My level of frustration and annoyance has been at a major high. And the idea of just relaxing is a wonderful one to me. The idea of relaxing with Obsidian is very sweet.

When he arrived, I told him the situation, about not sleeping and still waiting on the contractors. He immediately started looking for ways I could get some rest. He did show up with food *smile* and considering I do not eat when I should, this is a good thing.

After eating I decided to go upstairs and lay down. I had thought when I relaxed a bit he could get the movie and watch it up there. *smile* then my ideas changed. Its hard for me to put into words how much I enjoy touching Obsidian. He is very well formed *eg* and I enjoy running my hands over his muscles ... and in those umm pajamma style clothes he was wearing... all I can say is yummy.

One of the ways I can lull myself to sleep is by a rhythmical stroking motion. Thigh, chest arm whatever... it does not seem to matter. Just the repetitive stroking is what helps me relax a lot. And of course... stroking his chest... I just had to pinch those nipples... *smile* I love the reactions I get from him. And that just kinda got me started =p.

I kinda like the fact we do not HAVE to have toys to have fun. Oh we have fun with the toys... *smile* but they are not manditory.

The Dream

2004-10-07T13:44:00.000-07:00

I made my regularly scheduled visit with Rosestone last night. Bless her heart she is so tired. She's going 15 rounds with a contractor that's being a JACKASS about finishing the job, she's having auto, and other woes that keep her worn out.
So when she suggested that we were simply going to watch a movie together and relax, I thought it was a great idea. While this may not sound like prime time to all you wanna be subbies that are all about getting action, to spend a couple of quiet hours simply and quietly basking in the company of my mistress sounded wonderful to me.
I brought a little food, a small gift, a card, and 3 movies she had not seen to choose from. I borought simple PJ type stuff to wear, but it was the kind of clothing she has mentioned liking to see me in. So it was casual, but still reflected my desire to please.
Honestly when we went upstairs, I expected her to crash. She didn't even mention to bring the movie up. I was all geared up to stroke and pamper her softly as she slept.

It didn't quite work out that way.

I pleased her instead to pinch my sore nipples and watch me squirm and writhe. Then to tease me to bursting and finally allow a sweet release under her firm controls. I pleased her to a release of course as well.

After she began to talk to me. And once again began to show just how deep she is in my head. I swear it's like she has this wireless modem connection direct to my brain. When she began to talk, I began to remember and when I began to remember my blood ran so cold that my arousal reflex faltered for a bit.

She spoke to me in the future tense of OLD dreams. Dreams I have spent years trying to forget in fact. Not the dreams of sleep, the dreams of life. The things you think of when someone asks what you want out of life.

I'm not like Anna. I'm not new to the ideas of submission. I have carried submission in me, as a burden more times than not, for decades. I can remember sitting on the lawnmower as a youth cutting our huge lawn, and dreaming the time away of being someone's real submissive. I can remember sitting in church with my mother and step-father, and my mind being on things it really should not have been in church. But there was someone there who looked like a dominant to me, and the sight of her always carried my imagination away to a dungeon and a life that did not exist. For years I tried to give this passion in me utterance. For years I tried substitutes, sublimations, and settle for's. Finally, after a last, desperate and disastrous attempt. I gave up, and just tried to forget.

Because of these things, the hope and esteem of myself as a submissive was absolutely crushed. Crushed to death. I think it's fair to say that Rosestone has had to perform a rather high level resurrection on my submissive soul to bring back the life and light that she has into it. She has worked patiently and lovingly. Even when I would frustrate her to a peak.

Now she begins another leg of the journey. She wants me to begin to ask for things of her. Even if they are things that we already do, and they are desires she already knows about, she wants me to ask for her favors. Her command is more than fair and I think, I hope,I'm ready for it because I am going to do it.

But I know there is still yet work to be done. Issues to be settled. And I have no earthly how they will get done. She told me of things that she wanted to do to me, ways she wanted to treat me, about three of them and I swear that she spoke ver batem the words in which I used to conjure up the images of the fantasies I used to have about the exact same events.

A dear friend from California called me up a couple of days ago. She's very connected to me spiritually and she reads my blogs. She warned me that some of the ways I was trying to deal with my new submissive life was acts of self sabotage, and that I needed to be wary. I know she's right. I've caught myself doing it. I feel bad after, but it never seems to stop me from doing it the next time. I know after the dreams I had last night, why now I'm doing it and not realizing that I am.

Years of frustration in the lack of outlets for my submissive nature eventually had to create an idea by which I could justify why I wasn't, or couldn't be anyone's submissive. The truth was a lack of opportunity to meet the right kind of people with the right kind of minds. But my imagination took a faulty, and darker route. That I was just unwantable as a sub.
A faulty idea that got "confirmed" by the repeated rejections that I later recieved from another who had just as screwed up self esteem problems as I.

My unconscious self sabotage is an old program, running in the background. An old habit in thinking. A dark little secret inside my head that tells me I'm unwantable. I guess it just can't stand the overwhelming facts and evidence to the contrary, and every chance it gets, at just the wrong opportune moment it will whisper to me, and I repeat it, because I have heard it for so long:
"I'm unworthy."

It has been the sword of resistance that I have set against her at every turn. I know she's so tired of hearing it. Hell no one is more tired of it than me. I'd give anything to be able to surrender that sword. She looks inside of my in my soul like I'm made of glass, and she tells me she sees it. She tells me she knows that I'm still holding on, still trying to control what's inside of me. She tells me she wants me to let go. And I want to. God knows I want to. I want to so bad I think I might burst. But I don't know how. This shade inside of me will not avant when I try to fight it or send it away. Right now it owns a part of me. And that means there is a part of me I can't give to her. And that makes me hurt inside. She says I'm hers, that I belong to her now. And I believe her. She says she is very possessive and protective of what is hers. I believe that to. She says she wants me to surrender this control to her. I believe she does. I want to give it up to her. I want her to take possession of that part of me. I need her to protect me from this ghast that haunts me and tries to harm my submissiveness to her. But I have no earthly how I / we can make it happen.

In the dream I had last night. She was driving me around in a city, talking to me the whole time. I don't know what about (you know how dreams are). I say something back to her, and she becomes angry. Now instead of riding in her black truck, were inside an arena of some sort. It's dark but very tall and wide. There are a lot of people there in the shadows and I can't see them so I don't know who they were. But they were watching. We were about to fight.
She was dressed in one of my outfits (?) go figure. All black, tight, and a beret. I don't know what I looked like. I know I was upset and hurting. I didn't want to fight her, I didn't want to hurt her, and I didn't want to win. Turns out I didn't.
Dreams are blurry, but we exchanged a few blows and punches when suddenly she flings my arms apart and away from me, grabs my nipples and pulls me in to kiss her. When I kiss her she pushes me away and follows up with a roundhouse kick.
Must have been the end of the fight. It was the end of the dream to because that's all I remember. There was more to the dream, but it's faded over the day.

This is kind of fractured I know, but I felt like I needed to put it down.

Saturday night spanking

2004-10-02T22:23:00.000-07:00

Saturday night Obsidan had a small spanking session. He got my hand, then a mixture of the flogger, brush, slapper and crop. This was the result ...

Satruday Night with fun

2004-09-30T15:05:00.000-07:00

For some reason my wonderful sub seems to think this healing he is going throuth is a sense of disappointment for me. This is far from true. I knew not long after we met he had a lot of healing to do, a lot of disappointments he had to get past, and some steps we took would be small ... maybe even infintesimal. I knew this and know this and am still proud and happy to call him my sub. I know I often ask him things he cannot answer. Its not that he does not trust me, I know this. Its something we have to work through. I accepted obsidian as he is... anything we have ahead of us to be worked through we will do together. I do not balk at this. Obsidian is not and has never been a disappointment to me.
He has made some great strides since we have been together. He was not even able to answer me at first. Now he can at least some times. And when I make him he can ask to do some things. Its not HUGE steps. But the best ones are not. He is making steady progress in being able to voice things. And I am having fun helping him.

Why

2004-09-30T13:56:00.000-07:00

Taking my nipples in her strong fingers, she once again crushes them in her grip, while lifting up on them, causing me to rise up on the tips of my toes. I grunt and moan and writhe, A full grown man of muscle and strength, made helpless in her tiny grasp, and her indomitable will.
Again, she asks me questions to which she already knows the answers,

"What? Hmmmm? What is it baby?"

I try to answer, but like my fantasies and desires, the words just will not come out of me. But unlike my desires these words she wants to hear will not escape me for a very different reason.

She releases my inflamed nips and again, my knees barely catch hold before I fall into the floor.
She says nothing, but I know she has noticed that I very nearly collapse when she does this to me, for no sooner than I've caught my breath, I'm up on my toes again, the points of my chest being pulled and squeezed to the point I'm nearly in tears.

Gasping and moaning, she taunts me,

"You like this don't you?"

Again the answer is obvious, but this time I have an answer. Weakly, I nod my head giving up what personal strength I had in pride and dignity. The truth is that I'm a slut. I know it, she knows it, yet there is something magical for both of us when I'm being forced to confess it under her duress. I sense in her a certain satisfaction when she breaks me down that way. Forcing out of me confessions that I do not want to hear myself utter, even though they are the very things I desire the most in the world.

Now, after being dangled like a puppet by my areola more than twice I am ordered to "stand up straight" (does anyone else get serious chills when standing nude on front of a woman who demands this succinctly?) And while there at attention I am subjected to clothespin and nipple clamp torture.

My whole body seems to burn inside the grip of those pins. I hiss through my teeth as she not only puts them on, but flicks them with her fingers, hard enough I cry out, but not hard enough they fly off. She removes the pins and again I nearly crumple to the floor in a heap. Now, wanting to prolong my agony, she reapplies them. Reminding me to stand straight as she plays mercilessly with them. Now she takes her fingers and squeezes the fulcrum of the pins, multiplying the power at which they are biting my flesh. I cry aloud and again I get the questions,

"What is it baby? Tell me."

And again, I do not. I say nothing but instead cry and blubber and make other noises that I humiliate myself in front of her by making.

You may wonder, am I stubborn? Am I disobedient? Am I rude and a bad submissive not to answer the questions of my mistress? Well, yes and no.

In truth I have no words for her at these times. I have said what is expected of me to say in the past, and I have heard the responses from her. And when I have made those confessions, and heard what she had to say, I have never in my heart or life felt so free, or so owned in that deep dark recess of my soul. But I can't bring myself to say them again. On the one hand, I feel like a liar saying them. On the other, I know what she will say back to me and how it will make me feel, and it gives me such a complex that I can't bear to hear it. I can't decide if it is a deserve issue (I don't deserve to feel this good or be this happy) or if it is a belief that she does not know, nor intent to make me feel that good about what is happening, or about myself, or about us. Maybe it's all wrapped up together.

She moves on. My male breasts are still on fire when she begins to tease me. She teases me with her hands, with her mouth, and with her words. Again, when I reach the peak of frustration and pain, she asks me, and I do not say it. Then she begins to talk to me while I'm in this most fragile and vulnerable state. She talks about things she might do to me, things that might happen, things she might want to try sometime. This is where my deepest agony begins. I have no defense that can hold her out of my soul when she has me in this state. She knows this. I'm certain that is why she chooses this moment to speak such things to me. She knows I can't swerve her, deceive her, or hide any part of me from her now. I'm not only naked and in her grip on the bed, I'm naked and in her grip in my soul. The song "Voodoo You" passes through my head:

"She has the body of a woman...She has the POWER to bewitch."

Helpless, my resistance utterly broken, I shudder at the thoughts she puts in my head. She sees in me the ideas that prick the closest to the innermost secrets of my soul, and she pursuits them with glee. She questions me without any pity, or mercy, or regard for my desire to cover my naked desires. She is undaunted in the least by my weakness, my tears, and finally a crying purge that is worthy of a child after a parents' harsh spanking.

She drags into the open what I try the hardest to hide. She makes me watch as she examines closely the things that give me a sense of utter shame. Then she humiliates me by shaming me for trying to hide them to begin with.

After, she has me to please her with my hands, with toys. She will not allow me to pleasure her with my sex, nor put my mouth on her holy of holy's. I give her two strong orgasms, and the night wanes till I have to leave. I'm told (after asking) that I can touch my sore nipples, but nothing more interesting than that until we have had another talk.

I've had the worst time trying to write about my experiences with Mistress. This in spite of her direct command to write about them. And what you have just read is exactly why. No doubt all but a most elite few could read above and come away with anything less than the idea that my mistress is being cruel and horrible to me, and that I am languishing in her treatment of me.

But all I have to work with in this pitiful language is poor choices of words. Words like pain, agony, torture, humiliation, breaking, suffering....These words are wrong yet they are the only accepted words for the concepts I try to convey.

But the truth is, I am not in pain. Raised up on my toes with my nipples crushed and stretched to a degree I have never felt in my life. It's a crime to call it pain. But that is the only word we use that comes even close to being sharp enough to convey a meaning. Saying it was an intense sensation does not demonstrate to an Nth degree what I felt. To say I was in incredible pain, comes closer, but isn't quite honest. It's a crime to call what I was feeling in those incredible moments pain.

There are very few of us that see pain as a positive word. In truth the word pain should be like the word fire. Fire is positive or negative depending on how we use it. We say the house is on fire, that's a bad thing. We say the fire was so romantic, and it's a good thing.

I have known pain. Real pain. Torture, Humiliation, Agony. Pain of the body and pain of the soul. Pain that makes you cry. And there is nothing positive about it. There is nothing desirable in it. It is pain and it is to be avoided at any cost.

I have known a little pain. Healing pain, purging pain, sublimating pain, life and spirit saving pain. Pain that makes you cry. And it is to be desired at any cost. I long to know Torture, Humiliation, Agony. I long to feel those things sweep across the broken strings of my heart that can't even make music anymore...And mend it.

Once upon a time I was in a relationship that I felt comfortable enough to ask for those things. I asked for all of it, outright, I asked for sweet sufferings galore without shame or belief that it was beyond giving, or deserving. I offered everything I was and had to give in return....

It wasn't enough.

It was a combination of misunderstanding terms and intent, and I just plain asked for so much and offered far too little in return that it wasn't worth the relationship. I asked for far more than I deserved.

It all ended in despair.

Now I can't ask for anything. Even when my mistress commands I come right out and say things, I can't. I'm broken inside. The bad kind of broken. I'm so broken inside that I can't even answer one question. I can't bring myself to tell her what I KNOW she wants to hear me say. I want to. I want to so bad, and yet I live in such dread fear that I will make "the other shoe fall" by what I might say and ask for because of what has gone on before....That I just clam up and shut down inside and cry my guts out instead of telling her, instead of hearing from her the very words that could redeem me...

This is Why I can't say it my mistress and I'm so sorry.

How it should have been after she had tired her arm out beating my bottom raw with that hairbrush and leather paddle was me answering her question. The same question she always asks.....

How it should have been after pinching, crushing, and hurting my nipples so bad they burned so sweetly for me all day today.....

How it should always be when she asks....

"Hmmm? What is it my sub?"

"It hurts, my Mistress."

"I know it does baby, it's supposed to. And you need more."

The Week of the Claiming

2004-09-07T14:02:00.000-07:00

What had gone before:

Rosestone and I had met after I made a simple contact to her through a alt lifestyle matching service. After a few emails we chatted, after a few chats we met face to face in public. After a few more chats and a phone call, I went to her home to serve her. I serve her with my gifts of massage, my skills in cleaning, cooking, and organization. In a short time, I proved my enthusiasm and devotion to submission was real and she decided to have me as her personal submissive.

I suppose the claiming of me as her property began with the teasing. For 3 hours non stop on a Saturday night she teased me without mercy. Enjoying every minute of my writhing and moaning. Having me give her an orgasm before sending me home completely and totally frustrated....With instructions not to release for 4 days.

When the following Wednesday came around, again she took me to her bed, and after the expected massage and pampering of her body, she had me to strip and lie naked and blindfolded waiting for her.
That night I was truly dominated in a way I have never been before. I've exchanged power before, but I have never been stripped of all I am. In the past I had merely exchanged power. This time not only did she take power from me, she used it to strip and flay my soul using only her hands, eyes, and body. I didn't even know such depths of subspace and submission existed.

She took my wrists and pushed my hands where she wanted them to stay, she climbed on top of my body and used her own to tease me again to the utter brink. Looking up at her, her body leaning over mine, her sex grinding on mine, so near yet so far, her hair and her breasts swaying with her thrusts. And her eyes, those gleaming eyes above that playful, yet dangerously sharp smile of hers. All of it together caused a tide of emotion to overwhelm me that I never counted on, guessed, or believed could happen to me.

I felt owned. Not just submissive, or a little used, like I was after, but owned, belonging to her, property. I didn't recognize the feeling for what it was at the time, I just felt this huge sinking into the depths of subspace. It was only later when I thought about the things I said, and the things that I would not say, that I recognized the emotion for what it was.

These feelings were further augmented by the knowledge that she was experimenting on me. She was using her body, her mouth as she took my sex into it, her nails, her voice, and, as a bonus, a Whartenberg Neuro Pinwheel on my body like I was a lab mouse. She was exploring me, my likes, my weaknesses, and giving me these sensations for her own amusement. The thought of which was overwhelming.

She made several attempts to bring me to a climax. Whether I was too stimulated, or nervous, or had hauntings of the past plaguing me I can't say. I can say that I am very hard to bring off by mouth. I always have been, I should have warned her of that, but I was far to far gone to think of such things. Worse, I'm very hard to dry pump to a climax. Lubricated stimulation of the frenum is about the only masturbation that is effective. The result was an anticlimactic night.

Disappointment I could not hide. I left feeling poorly, but not for the reason you think. Although I was aching for a release, what truly hurt my feelings was the fact I felt I had let her down, and made a bad impression. She seemed to think nothing of it, and in truth, after weighing what else there was that had been gained, and what there still was yet to experience, I'd have been a fool to stay down about it.

On Thursday morning when I checked in, Rosestone was under the weather and feeling very poorly. I offered to assist, even though I had used my appointed time the night before. However she agreed to see me and allow me to serve her. After work I brought her cold medicine, and something to eat. I ran her a peppermint foot soak and set out to make her comfortable.
Sitting at her feet she checked and rechecked that I was ok after being down about last night. I was glad for this because I really wanted to prove my resiliently and I assured her I was fine, and I wanted to prove that in my actions.
It wasn't long before what she really needed was revealed. I try to listen to her very carefully for clues on how to submit to her best. I hear a lot of things this way. Many thing I can do little about, but some things I can. The I can for the day was how her housework was behind because of all the remodeling going on, and how it was these smaller chores and general disorganization that was bringing her down.

I cracked my knuckles and went to work. Checking on her regularly for any need she might have, I lunged at the things that were paining my lady domme. Despite the fatigue of the work day and a terrible ache where a heavy frame had fallen on my shoulder earlier, I tried to spare no detail or draw my opponent no quarter. I swept, beat rugs, folded laundry, and after persuading her to lie down and rest, turned on my knack for organization and dealt a heavy blow to the disarray that was getting on her nerves.

When I left she was still in bed and she did not see the results of my work. She was however pleased with me when I checked in the next morning. Arriving home that night, I thought long and hard about relieving myself of the sexual frustrations now pent inside of me. I really had no chance to think of it al all to this point. Although I wasn't down, I still had feelings about it. And I really wanted to prove myself to my lady domme. Laying in bed I made my decision. I would hold out until the next opportunity was to arise to play with her again. I already knew when it was, in two more days.

TO BE CONTINUED