Memoir of a Submissive

Within the darkened room glowed a tree of evergreen. Its branches laden with soft golden light and individual tokens of memory commanded one’s eyes to look at nothing else. All- furnishings, thoughts, and to-do lists- fell back in the wake of its presence.

To approach it is to be drawn into the story it tells. A love never-ending and forever green. A family both present and generations past, all at the same time. Travels to spots of wonder and magic. And always, Home.

So it is with the sparkling memories from this past year, that i treasure and ponder in my heart, taking me back, yet hurtling me in a dizzying tumble of onward.

A hotel room at a point beyond our comprehension, with the North Sea just outside our window, tied to a chair, arms, hands, legs and ankles secured. Bound, but completely free within His ministrations.

A night of dripping, searing wax forming concentric patterns upon my virgin back. Heat, gasps of pleasure and pain, and smiles that made my face hurt, fill my mind’s eye again on this winter day.

A chain from the ceiling, promising intensity beyond what i thought was possible, beckoned then and still to trust, to keep pursuing the next great adventure.

My memories are both distant and constant in that beautiful plane of time that surely exists, the Now. Each one like an ornament, glittering and deftly touched, cause me to celebrate anew a love, a passion, that has been and will be, both fulfilled and alluring.

 Always.

Rule 34: Pain and pleasure shall be with me always – in my thoughts and my fantasies – for the contrast strengthens me to behave in the manner my Master expects of me. Such thoughts and fantasies are tainted with the memories i have from the last time i was in the presence of my Master. He is with me always.

It was a black sweater, a seemingly innocent article of clothing by most folks’ standards.

To me, it was something different.

It had buttons up the front, and the stretchy weave of the fibers made the sweater cling to my body, accentuating a tiny waist and a swelling of breasts as one’s eyes traveled upward.

Rather than just having a plunging v-neck at the top, it had ties that were made into a bow, falling gently over the eager cleavage. i desperately kept trying to keep that bow in place to cover up my ample bosom.

He saw me walking toward Him in the pub, my arms held close in front of my body, seeking something to shield me from eager eyes.

As the distance closed between us, i detected a note of dissatisfaction in His gaze. It must be the slutty nature of my top, my frantic mind surmised. I knew I should have worn something a bit more demure.

His fingers reached for the bow, as He tugged me toward Him with a bit more force than your average man would use. i braced my submissive heart for His disapproval.

An inquisitive index finger sought the warm, inviting spot between my breasts, and His touch enflamed me, despite my slight fear of what He was going to say. He stroked with insistence as He spoke firm words into my ear.

Babygirl…what are you doing, hiding? Don’t you know that these are Mine? And it pleases me to see them, to show you off?

His hands made quick work of that bow. Ties, then hanging down, became a sort of bridle, to be guided for His pleasure.

Always for His pleasure.

Rule 33: i must never be concerned when i feel too much of my flesh is showing, in private or in the general public – however, i can ask my Master for permission as to how to handle my discomfort.

Yellow.

Some say it is a color of cowards. To be yellow meant you would flee when the going got tough. You lacked courage, determination, persistence.

Others might say it is the hue of joy. No one can frown when seeing a daffodil, the soft down of a duckling, or a crayon-colored bright sun.

Yellow is a place, a possibility, a “Here be Dragons” spot on our pleasure map.

It means He has brought me farther, further than my shifting boundaries had declared.

 i am a writhing, gasping bundle of sensation. One more lash than expected. One tighter knot pulling limbs into a more obscene display than yesterday. One further notch in the gag.

And i don’t know if i can find my way back.

But i don’t wish to stop, either.

Yellow is a new adventure about to begin, if only i can catch my breath at the top of the heady, roller-coaster summit before the first plunge.

He is kind, above all of His other qualities. He pauses. He never wishes to hear “red” and so He waits for me, tends to me, reassures me.

And we journey forward, again.

Rule 32: The safeword given to me by my Master can be spoken at any time-even when i have been told to be silent. If i am not able to verbalize it – i trust my Master will show me how i can express it. Safewords are for my protection as well as His. i must be careful not to take more than i can handle, as He will need to know when to stop from getting carried away with His own passions – so that i may be prepared over time to endure more for Him.

Sorry (not sorry) for the lack of a blogpost....i knew you kinksters would understand. 

The darkness of the early morning still pervades our home, dispelled with the flicking on of a soft light in each room as i pad my way to the kitchen.

  Small tasks await me, insuring that all members of the household, both furry and other, are fed and have sustenance for the hours ahead. The day’s schedule fills my mind, reminders of errands to run, bills to pay, and plans to make. Until it is all finished, and then one thought stands tantamount.

The world of schedules, errands, bills, and plans would tell me to put something else ahead of this moment, to do something for me, or at least to question why i am about to act in such a servile manner. But that world never satisfies.

i know better now. i know that nothing is more desirable, more fulfilling, more necessary than putting Him ahead of me. And so, i make His coffee.

Shocked? Expected some sort of salacious, delicious, hot, wet, cum-drenched, early-morning cavorting, did you? Well, i’m not ruling that out, but it is Monday morning after all.

Instead, i brew the dark magical beverage, place cream and one teaspoon of sugar, and stir. My hands cup His favorite mug, and i feel the warmth spread outward to my chilled finger tips. i carry it carefully up each stair until i reach our bedroom.

i walk softly to His bedside, and kneel. He greets me with a gravelly, “Good morning, Babygirl.”

i offer Him the mug, raising it up a bit, using the words of a precious other slave: “From my body, from my heart, from my soul.”

For it is not just a cup of coffee: it is everything about my place, my greatest desire, my hope to always please Him. It is all that i can give in the moment.

And He deems that it is enough. For now.

Rule 31: The opportunity to please my Master is very important to me and I will take every chance to seek out such opportunities to do so to the best of my abilities and in accordance to how i have been taught or allowed to do so.

PS-Thank you to Dr. T. for the video that inspired our usage of the words for the coffee presentation

The ties on the bedposts.

The spreader bars.

The ropes.

The arm sleeve.

The chain from the ceiling.

Each one, beautiful in its own restraining, retraining, reawakening way.

But not one is truly necessary.

Not for one rebellious second.

Rule 30:  i will not hesitate in my obedience to my Master.

A hearth, rich with color and warmth, beckons me closer and closer still.

i stand before the flames, as they crackle and burst with heat. They are frightening in their power, beautiful in their talent for melting the ice which can so easily encase my soul.

The hearth is part of a place i call Home- not found on any physical map, but where all hearts long to be.

It is there i am me, longing- to- please, eager- to -serve, little me. my joy springs from acts others might term demeaning at best, misogynistic at worst: To put Him first in all things, to think of His needs ahead of my own, to ever kneel before Him seeking His touch.

i could look at this Home as a prison if He was not present at every turn, in every way, with His guidance, passion, and devotion. i am not permitted to flit from task to task, a pathetic little mouse in a wheel that turns endlessly, never reaching its destination.

No, i am forever finding Home, where He lets me know when i have pleased Him, when my submission creates a haven for His dominance to flourish.

He takes me, before the heat and fire of that inner hearth, away from the winter of white vanilla. His caresses mixed gentle and rough, coax the flames higher, until the Home is awash in a golden, orange, crimson orgy of color, bathing my skin in passionate waves, carrying me ever back to His heart.

Rule 29:  my submission is a natural inborn feeling, and at times a surging and powerful force inside me that only a respectable and knowledgeable Master can recognize, control and manage, for a He understands how my nature influences my behavior and how temptations to act outside of its drive can easily lead me astray and away from my primary focus: to please and to be found pleasing. He, too, manages and controls His Own natural state, sharing with me through a power exchange between us, bonding me tightly to Him, His needs with mine. my submission to such a Master allows for me to feel more aware and alive inside and out, bringing me to a feeling i cherish: ‘at home’.

There, written in a book, kept by an older mother who feared she would be childless, were the words of my first prayer: “Bless Mommy and Daddy, Grandma and Grandpa, and everyone I know. Help me to be a good girl.”

Just what a “Good Girl” was became my lifelong journey. Did it mean always doing as i was told? Was it to achieve academic success? Ascribe to every religious tenant and live out every lesson in piety?

If so, i had that “Good Girl” prayer answered. In spades.

And i was miserable.

Oh, i continued to do every act expected of me, speak every word as i should, but inside, deep within the most hidden caverns of me, was a darkness that i feared. It was the spectre of a thousand wishes and hopes denied in pursuit of the almighty “Good Girl.”

These shadowy desires swam in a sea of passionate pain, ties and ropes, lashings, and submission.  How could i ever let them bask in sunlight’s embrace and still remain me, a Good Girl?

He was always able to see both sides of me, and it was Master who wielded each blow, knotted each bind, delivered each lash, and dominated that which i kept trying to hide.

And when i thought i could take no more, He spoke the words my heart had sought for a lifetime:

Good Girl.

Rule 28:  my greatest felt satisfaction is realized when i know i have pleased my Master.

Black.

My stocking are black, or any other color of His choosing. They encase my legs with the closest of touches, there to caress my legs when He cannot.

i must put them on within His field of vision.

He hungrily eyes my every move, as i slip one glittery-pink-nailed foot and then another into the silky smoothness.

Up, up, and up past calf, knee, and thigh, they rest snug against my skin, sheathing me in black.

i approach His bed, where He has been resting after a long, flogging night of delivering licking tongues of fire onto my porcelain skin.

i know how i am to present myself.

Back turned to Him, finger tips touching the floor in front of me, i am bent over, my ass high up in the air for His inspection. i am to give no thought to my own insecurities or fears of not being “enough” to be desired.

He runs His hands over each curve of ass, hip, and thigh, as He murmurs His approval of a body that has been given to Him for His pleasure and not my criticism.  

His right hand cuts through the air around us to deliver a firm spank and then another, connecting me to Him until He sees fit to send me on my way to face the day only to return to His side again.

Rule 27: i must always wear revealing and sexy clothing of good taste around my Master unless given permission to do so otherwise. The clothing I wear will allow easy access to my pussy, ass and breasts. The clothing will emphasize and often exaggerate my assets. i will wear such clothing in any kind of weather. How i present my body to Him or in front of others is more important than my discomfort and insecurities.

I feel each thrust of His Cock into my mouth as a reminder of my place before Him. He’s not offering me sensation so that I may cum, He’s taking every last bit of pleasure for Himself tonight, and isn’t that as it should be?

my focus is entirely on Him, my hands still clasped tightly behind my back, arching me forward as i become more and more lost in my blissful task. His hands roughly hold my head in place, steadying me, grounding me, barely able to contain me, as i suck furiously.

His growls of “Harder” and “Don’t you dare stop” fill the room and my mind with more delectable thoughts of control and peace and desire.

His orgasm takes Him in waves, one quake another, as I feel the delicious warmth of Him flood my mouth. I gulp this precious evidence of His passion as though i am a woman starved for life’s joy. Each drop means i am His, and He has graciously become my Master. Why would I want to spill any of it? Or let even a miniscule bit escape my lips? No, i lick each corner of my mouth, and any bit left on His magnificent, still engorged Cock. my lips gently suck any remaining drops until He is clean.

He has given me all of Him tonight- His command, His Cock, His ability to let go completely, His priceless seed. i am a woman satisfied.

For now.

Rule 26: my Master’s cum must never go to waste – i will swallow all of it when Master cums into my cunt (and be punished should I spill any of it from my lips), licking it up if Master cums into my hands or into a plate i hold in front of Him to receive it, or onto the food He gives me which He may require of me to hold just under His cock as He ejaculates over it. i will clean His cock thoroughly squeezing out every last drop. In rare and privileged cases i may wear my Master’s cum on my body, sometimes after massaging it into my skin. Cum is a gift from my Master and it is an honor to receive it.