Random writings

It seems that many people, Doms and subs alike, come into this lifestyle hearing that "submission is a gift".  We've all seen the MANY pictures on this particular subject.  Here's the first 3 that came up on my Google search:

Before I get anymore into this, I'm not trying to say that you're not special or that your submission isn't beautiful.  This is a personal opinion piece, and like others I've written before, I'd love to hear your side.  Just clarifying. 

I was talking about this with someone recently and it really got me thinking...

I AM a submissive.  Period.  It's not something that a do, it's not a side gig, it's me.  Or I should say that it's part of me.  I'm also Caucasian, green eyed, right handed, anxiety ridden, artistic, kind-hearted, and many other things.  There are many things that make up who I am, and having to separate this one thing by calling it a "gift" isn't correct to me because it suggests that this part of me NEEDS to be separate.  If I give you’re a right handed hand job while smiling with green eyes, did I give you a gift?  No.  Well, maybe *winks*

I am never NOT a submissive, but that doesn't mean that I'm living my life on my knees.  My submission isn’t always physical act.  If my Dom and I are around family, amongst co workers, or in front of children, you're not going to see any physical act.  You may see me grabbing a coke for my Dom at a family picnic, but that's because it's an act of service and love that I would do in or out of a D/s relationship.  My submission doesn’t just disappear because the situation calls for it.  I think that those of you in 24/7 relationships understand this. 

Moving on to the fact that it's called "a gift" because it demands to be taken care of... You damn right it does!  But guess what?  I'd expect that out of a vanilla relationship!  Any time I join with another person to form a relationship, I expect that I'll be taken care of - and that I will take care of the other person, too!  If that man is my vanilla husband, I'm still submissive to him because that is what I personally believe in.  It won't be in the form of leather cuffs and fun sexy chains or commands, but it will still be there. 

I crave rules, punishments and pain, humiliation and degradation, bondage and submitting – things I can only get from a dominant man.  So I choose to be with dominant men. 

And your dominance is not a privilege or something you need to do to earn my respect - the human inside you does that.  If I don't respect you as a person, I'm sure as hell not going to respect you as a Dom.

It’s not a gift that I’m GIVING you.  It’s a part of myself that I’m SHARING with you.  It’s who we are and its beautiful! 

So you've had a Dom who didn't treat your submission specially?  Yeah, me too.  Just the same as I've had vanilla relationships that were abusive and D/s relationships that were completely unfulfilling.  

*shrugs* 

I’d love to hear your thoughts! 

Over the years of experiencing different styles and types of BDSM, these are the things that are consistent with me.  The things that give me chills, whether bad or good…

Things that I love with all my heart

-          That look your Dom gives you from across a room that makes you weak, and the way you always know what it     means.

-          Those trigger words that your Dom uses to communicate so many things in small ways.

-          Kneeling in your designated place.  This place sometimes feels like the safest place in the world.  Sometimes, I swear I could live there.

-          Aftercare.  Knowing that the soul who just hurt you with his hands can now caress you with those same hands – knowing that the one who hurt you with words can now speak gentle truths that lift you right back up. 

-          When your Dom asks “Who do you belong to?”  Dadgum! 

-          Being made to look him in the eyes. 

Things that get to me – in that oh so effective way

-          Disappointment.  I’d guess that many of us feel this way.

-          Standing in the corner.  Oof!  That is NOT something that I enjoy, but my body betrays me every time and tells me otherwise!  But this is seriously still an effective punishment. 

-          Lectures.  Ouch ouch ouch!  My body starts shaking just thinking about it! 

-          Being made to look him in the eyes.

This obviously isn’t an extensive list, and I love many things! Pain, humiliation, etc., etc., but these are the things that my mind always go back to when I’m questioning the lifestyle, or my submission, or something like that.  And I am highly questioning my submission tonight.  Ya know those days where you feel like shit for a sub?  Yeah, it happens

In the spirit of positive change, I went out today to buy a new shiny bottle of nail polish – just a little something for a little pick-me-up.  I wasn’t half way through painting my nails before deciding that my hair color needed to be changed, too.  So now with some glittery pink nails and some new red hair, I’m ready.  For something. 

More than likely, I’m just ready to put on some makeup tomorrow and dress in some clothes that actually make me feel good.  (Being sick and in pajamas for over a week has been the pits).  But I’m longing for something more as well…

Something that goes a little like this:

(This is about no one in particular – it’s just a longing that even if I’m afraid of, will still always be a part of me).

You dominate me - I submit

You teach me - I learn

You strike me - I burn

You lead me - I follow

You tease me - I ache

You use me - I smile

You nurture me - I grow

You captivate me - I surrender

You cage me - I prowl

You warm me - I glow

You invade me - I yield

You protect me - I thrive

You inspire me - I dream

You excite me - I tremble

You command me - I obey

You own me - I am yours. 

Night, y’all! 

They go hand in hand!  You can’t just take the cake and scrape off the frosting and eat it.  I mean, I guess you can, but no.  Stay on track with me here, people! 

The cake is step one.  You get this first because the cake is the foundation.  This is the woman in me, or human if you prefer.  Can you like the flavor?  It’s baked with ingredients such as mother, caretaker, employee, student, sense of humor, artist, talker, lover of people, anxiousness, kindness, ferociousness, moodiness, love, spirituality, strength, oldies music lover, Dr Pepper aficionado, existentialism, cheerleader for good, the girl who holds the world in a paper cup, and many other ingredients.  This cake has some cracks in it, but it’s still standing.  You can’t find this recipe in a cookbook.  It was God given and handed down from generations before. 

The frosting is step two, but the frosting is what you see first when you look at a finished cake.  How do you know if you like the whole product if you’re only looking at the sugary frosting?  This is the submissive in me – the person that craves your control, pain, sex, humiliation, protection, harshness, and all the other kinky fun weirdness.  The best part about the frosting is that even though all the ingredients are there already, they are amenable.  You can add what you like.  You can cover the cake how you wish.  Put some frosting between the layers and cover the whole cake – make your own personal design in the frosting with swirls, lines, peaks – whatever you desire.  Add sprinkles, or berries, or both!  Then step back and love the finished product as a whole. 

Sure, you may say that frosting is the best part of a cake, but surely we can all agree that after a few spoonful’s of nothing but frosting, it can make you sick and make your teeth hurt.  You get a great sugar high from all this frosting, but like all good highs, there will be a crash afterwards.

Can you like both the flavor of the cake AND the frosting that goes with it?  I don’t want to be the slice of cake that the frosting is scraped off of and eaten and then discarded with a plastic fork.  I want a person who wants both together.  Go ahead and be tempted by the frosting, but please make sure and ask what flavor the cake is before you talk to it.  What?  You don’t talk to your cake?

And by all means, when you get your cake, go ahead and eat it, too!  ;) 

But seriously, y’all.  I’m not walking kink.  There is a whole lot more to me.  Remember that you’re talking to a real person when you send that message.  I don’t want to be your downtime or your stupid game.  I appreciate that you love my pictures, my shoes, my profile, and my BDSM test results, but that’s just the frosting!  Cut into the cake and see what’s there.  You may just like it, too :)  And I promise that I won’t just pick out your naughty chocolate bits and discard the rest of the cookie.  I’ll gladly take the whole thing, burnt edges and all. 

2 different song lyrics, 2 different genres, 2 different generations of music – have fun! 

“People become masochistic as a way of regulating their desire to sexually dominate others. The desire to submit, on the other hand arises from guilt feelings over the desire to dominate” -Freud

Alright Freud my man, while I do respect several of your theories, this is one that I just cannot get behind.  Freudian therapists today still believe in this, and I’m not sure why since we have an understanding of most of the science behind masochism… 

Pain releases endorphins and hormones – endorphins and hormones act as painkillers – so in essence, pain + endorphins = no pain because you get very high on the endorphins.  Plus all the other good stuff that goes with it… the relaxation, the sleepiness, the letting go, the surrender, the aftercare… yep, good stuff.  It almost sounds like an addiction.  I’ll definitely have to look into that someday!  But obviously not everyone is like this, so while we might understand the science there, there is still no real understanding of why it’s such a turn on – or why some people like it and others don’t.  Please don’t make me go back to Freud’s theory.  He cannot be right!

I’ve been super craving pain lately.  Intense scenes.  More than I feel like I can handle.  And I’m not entirely sure why.   

I guess because it both calms me down and makes me feel no pain.  This was pointed out to me once before.  I still remember his soft quiet voice asking, “That calms you down doesn’t it?” and I was embarrassed to answer with a “yes” because I’m not sure if that was correct or not.  But there isn’t really a correct answer, is there? 

It’s interesting because here lately, my body is in pain a lot all by itself.  After a few doctors appointments and some tests, I still have no answer for this pain, but I’m obviously not liking it.  However, if you intensify it with an awesome sadistic scene, it all goes away and I feel great!  That may be a reason that I’m craving some pain right now, but I wonder what my reason was a month ago, or a year ago, or ten years ago, or 20 years ago?  Dammit, Freud, I don’t have a desire to dominate!!

In the last scene I had, after all was said and done, I felt more relaxed and pain free than I have in a long time.  For me, it’s like getting a massage.  That sounds so weird!  You may be right, I may be crazy, but it just may be a lunatic you’re looking for.  Bat shit passionate!  Crazy Type A personalities... I want that massage. 

If you’re a masochist, or don’t consider yourself to be a masochist but like that bit o pain that can come with a scene, why do you think you do?  What does it do for you?

And what about sadists?  What does it do for you?  So many unanswered questions...

This whole blog barely made sense to me, so have fun with it.  Find the lyric and you too can be the owner of a brand new shiny quarter. 

Because I can't sleep.  A homecoming mum is half done - a party is half planned - the laundry is half folded. 
Haiku are easy to complete! 

She knelt before him

A flogger in his strong hand

Such exquisite pain

Is it mine to do?

I relinquished decisions

No. It’s not my job.

She was submissive

To one Dominant only

He took it away

Hand caressed her cheek

With a sting and a red mark

She craved being good

Standing under him

Baring more than her soft flesh

Her soul was exposed

In trouble again

His words sliced through her like ice

Do you understand?

A smile on her face

You’re such a good girl for me

A smile in her heart

A mean wood paddle

Mocked her from across the room

Makes for good kindling

Her guard up so high

Why couldn’t she just let go?

It would cost too much

Oh, she craved his pain

Anything to make her feel

alive – surrender

She was his slut now

Crawling across the hard floor

To be at his feet

No matter how scared

You will do that for me, girl.

Yes Master, of course

A submissives heart

She’s wanting to be the best

Will you please teach me?

A rip here, a tear

Her breasts exposed to him

Oh what will he do! 

It took her some time

She was finally worthy

A collar for me?

His taste in her mouth

She had been waiting all day

Better than chocolate

Late night summer rain

Two people are parting ways

One hugs much harder

She walked to his door, down the long hall of the apartment building. She was dressed as he'd requested ... her red strapless dress hugging her curves, the hem brushing her thighs just above her knees ... the necklace he gave her adorning her neck ... she felt nearly naked without stockings, a bra or panties beneath the dress. Her hair was pinned up, soft curls falling around her face.

As she raised her hand to unlock the door, she slowly released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She reached for the doorknob and turned it slowly.

She stepped inside, silently cursing her shoes as they echoed in the front hall in the silent apartment. She set her small black purse on the counter. As she moved to step into the living room, she nervously brushed a hand over her dress. She wanted to look her best for him.

The first time she'd been here he'd allowed her time to look around, to take in her surrounding and makes herself comfortable in his home. She admired various items throughout the apartment, taking in the small bits and pieces of his life. Now she saw things she didn't see the first time ... she saw herself bent over the ottoman in the living room ... stretched up on her toes, hands bound to the spiral staircase ... pressed against the wall as he kissed her for the first time ... she sighed softly, felt her body already reacting.

She stepped further into the open room, debating with herself. He'd told her simply to wait for him. He knew she functioned best with specifics, and this was a test ... a test of whether she would be able to be in his space without him, when she was missing him terribly. She had asked whether she should leave the dress on and, after teasing her a bit, had told her to leave it on, that he wanted to see the dress, but the shoes were up to her. And that was all he'd give her.

She glanced around the room ... the couch ... the chair ... the ottoman ... she stifled a small moan. She stepped nearer to the chair ... the chair where he'd sat last time, watching her as she lay on her back on the ottoman, arousing herself as he commanded. She slipped off her red heels and set them out of the way. She sank to her knees near the front corner of the chair, smoothing the dress over her legs and assuming the preparation position he'd taught her. She left space as she would if he were there, space for him to be able to sit if he wished, so that she would be positioned next to him, kneeling at his feet ... where she belonged.

Her heart was racing. Every nerve in her body vibrating, longing for his touch, his kiss. She took a long, slow, deep breath, laying her hands upon her thighs, closing her eyes. She focused on her need for him, immersing as he had taught her. Coming back to herself, she rose and took a deep breath, slipped her heels back on, and went to the kitchen to pour drinks for when he got home.

She heard his key in the door and her breath caught in her throat. She smoothed a trembling hand over the skirt of her red dress as she turned away from the drink she'd been pouring.

They'd been apart for a while now. It wasn't unusual, but whenever they were apart she had a slight, nagging empty feeling as if something vital was missing in her life when he was away. She also had a hunger for him, both physical and emotional hunger. She longed to hear him command her, longed to feel him touch her, longed to pleasure him.

He stepped down the front hall and turned to the kitchen. He smiled as he saw her. He could see the devotion and pure emotion so clearly in her bright green eyes. She stood still, watching him, a soft smile forming. "Hello Master," she all but whispered. "Welcome home."

"Thank you pet," he said as he set his keys and phone upon the counter. Stepping into the kitchen, so nothing stood between them, he simply opened his arms. She practically ran to him, her heels clicking on the floor. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on so tight. He wrapped his own arms around her, lifting her up off the floor, kissed her bare shoulder.

When he set her back on her feet, she released her grip just enough to be able to look up into his eyes. They stared at each other for a moment, before he wrapped a hand in her hair gently, tilted her head back and kissed her. They both poured all the passion, longing and need from the past two weeks into the kiss. Her nails dug into His shoulders as she pulled closer. Their bodies melded together. He wasn't the only one home… she was back at home in his arms.

She practically whimpered when He broke the kiss. He tugged her head back a bit more and waited for her eyes to flutter back open and focus on his. Then he tilted her head and his mouth moved to her ear. His teeth sunk in, gripping, grinding… He tightened his hold on her waist as he felt her squirm and her knees begin to buckle. He knew this drove her crazy.

She moaned deeply as he continued to bite her ear even as he growled, "I've missed my pet." He backed her up against the wall, holding her there with the weight of His body against hers. He couldn't help but moan as she began to grind herself against him. When he finally released her ear, she was gasping, dizzy with her need for him.

His hands slid along her arms, pulling them from around his own neck until he was able to press them over her head against the wall. He held her wrists together above her with one hand. He used his other hand to grasp a nipple through the fabric of her dress. She inhaled sharply and arched toward his hand. "Open your eyes." Her eyes, overly bright now, snapped open and found his. "Who owns you?"

"You do Sir", she whispered.

"Are you sure?" he prompted.

"I'm so sure", she nodded.

"And what are you willing to do for your Master tonight, pet?"

"Anything", she replied, feeling it in the deepest core of her being. He could see the truth in her eyes.

"Your Master is feeling greedy tonight. It's been too long. I’m going to use you hard tonight, my pet."

"Yes. Please Sir", she breathlessly whispered. Her eyes closed as he leaned in close and softly kissed her forehead, then her right eye, followed by her left, before he took her hand and led her to the ottoman …

I was approached this morning by a message titled, "Hey slut!" ...

I couldn't NOT talk to this person because if you see a train wreck, you stop, and the 5 line conversation led to the "fact" that all submissives are sluts.
My crazy ass mind led me right back to college and the subject of "categorical propositions".  This person threw out "universal affirmative proposition A" while the truth would be closer to the "existential particular affirmative I".  You didn't want a lesson in logic?  Just be glad I didn't drop a Venn Diagram in here...

But really, let's look at that.  ALL submissives are sluts.  Well that can't be true because I'm submissive and I'm not a slut.  Don't get me wrong... while I do enjoy being called a "slut, bitch, whore, etc" and while I enjoy being used as any of those aforementioned adjectives, that has to be for one person.  By doing that, the pure defintion of slut is lost because I'm not a woman who has "many casual sex partners". 

Do some "Dominant" men really believe that is all it takes?  Just call a random girl a dirty word and her panties will melt off?
And, not judging, but does that work for some women? Are you turned on by this approach?  I'm seriously curious because there is a part of me that believes that the only reason these men keep using these "pick-up lines" are because they ARE working!  Again, no judgement.

Besides being genuinely interested, this stuff just makes me laugh and provided me with some Saturday morning entertainment.

Yeah, okay...  I CAN BE an awesome slut, but I'm not YOUR slut.  And it's safe to say that I never will be. :)

Happy Saturday, y'all!

I'm going to post this one because I've been meaning to for a couple of days now, but then I'm going to be taking a break with the stories.  I need to focus on some other things right now.  Hope y'all enjoy :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She could see her own hand shaking as she reached for the car door handle. She was nervous, excited, aroused ... and so much more that she couldn't even put words to. Her black heels splashed in the puddle of rain next to the car. The cool droplets falling from above clung to her skirt and the sweater. Despite the cool temperature, she knew her cheeks were flushed when she opened the passenger door of His car.

Smiling, she slipped into the front seat, nervously crossing her legs and tugging down her skirt. He smiled at her and made her head spin. He leaned toward her and she took the cue and pressed close, hugging him tight, somehow preventing herself from clinging. She was glad he couldn't see her close her eyes and that he couldn't hear her thoughts, the thoughts that spoke of her need for him, for this connection, the physical connection that she often ached for but didn't get as often as she'd liked. 

As they pulled apart she looked up at him and they softly kissed. She felt herself melt. A soft sigh escaped her lips. She had been thinking about this moment for some time now. She cherished the moment, absorbing it, imprinting the feeling of his touch, his kiss, in her memory to be recalled later when she longed for his touch again.

She sat back in her seat, holding her own car key in her shaking hands, absently playing with the keyring. He teased her a bit about how pink her cheeks were, which of course, only made her blush another shade of red. They talked for a few minutes of seemingly trivial things and she knew He was waiting for her to relax just a bit.

"Do you like your necklace?" He asked her with a smile.

She was wearing the gold chain He'd given her, something she treasured. Smiling, she said "i do."

And then he asked the question she'd been waiting for. "Did you wear panties?"

She looked over at him and then lowered her eyes. "Of course not," she said quietly. He had told her one requirement of their meeting was that she should not wear panties ... and that she should be prepared to prove she hadn't. He stared at her until her eyes met his. He didn't say anything for a moment. She squirmed a bit in the seat and half whimpered "what?" knowing exactly what he wanted.

"You have two options little girl. Either show me or hand me the panties."

"But i didn't bring them," she said, her hands still nervously toying with the keychain.

"Well then I guess 50 percent of your options just went away," He laughed.

She looked up at him, took a deep breath, set the keys down on the console and shifted in her seat. She scooted her ass to the edge of the seat and turned herself toward her Master a bit as she pulled her skirt up around her hips and spread her legs. She felt the heat in her cheeks as she sat exposed to his gaze.

She gasped as his hand moved over her stockinged thigh and his finger pressed against her pussy. "Oh my you're wet little slut," he said as his finger pressed between her already dripping lips and teased her. She didn't think she could blush anymore.

She tried to look up at him but couldn't make herself. Something about being so exposed, knowing that he knew how it aroused her, knowing he could do anything to her, made her blush and tremble at the same time. She knew He sensed the struggle she was having between embarrassment and the need to please him.

In that voice that made her world turn upside down he said her name and then "Who is your Master?"

Her eyes met His. "You are Sir," she said breathlessly as his finger continued to rub against her clit.

"Who owns you?" He asked.

"You do Sir," she whimpered as his finger pressed harder.

"Whose clit is this?" He asked as his finger flicked over her hard, aching clit.

"Yours," she whispered. His finger slid down a bit, making her breath catch and her body jolt.

"And whose pussy is this?" He asked her.

"Yours," she replied on a moan. His finger slid a bit lower still.

"And this ass, whose is it little slut?" He asked her, watching her intently.

"Yours," she whimpered.

"And what are you willing to do for your Master?" He asked her, already knowing her reply. She didn't disappoint.

"Anything," came her whispered response.

"Are you sure about that? Anything? That's a big offer. What if I asked you to give me a blowjob right here in this parking lot?" He asked.

She looked up at Him. She bit back the reply she wanted to give. Her thoughts said "yes please, let me suck your cock Master, let me taste you, let me please you." Instead, her eyes held His as she answered, "If that's what you want, yes."

"And if I wanted to count down and have you cum for me?"

She quivered at the thought, the mere idea of his voice counting her down driving her close to climax. "If that's what you want, yes," she gasped.

He sensed her struggle to keep her eyes on his again, and told her to close them. She did so as his hand moved up and his fingers played with his clit and pussy. She began squirming in the seat as he played with her. He continued touching her, watching the need grow, fanning the flame. "5... 4..." She squirmed more with each number, her moans growing louder. "3... 2..." She could feel Him watching her even with her eyes closed. The closer he got to zero the tighter each muscle in her body got, aching for release. "3..." She whimpered as he teased her. "4..." She bit her lip to keep from pleading as his finger moved faster. "3...2" She held her breath, half expecting him to go back up again. "1..." Her breathing became gasps as she struggled to hold on, as he tormented her by waiting. "0... cum," He commanded and she moaned and cried out, arching as she climaxed, calling his name.

His hand never stopped playing with her pussy and clit. "I want another," he told her. She obeyed and released again, offering the climax and herself to him again. And still he didn't stop. "Another," he commanded. He alternated between rubbing her clit and pussyand pinching her full lips between his finger and thumb until she gasped. Her hips moved, pressing her against his fingers. "I want another ... now," He growled. She cried out, his name again the only word formed as she came for him.

Just then another car pulled in the parking lot, and he asked her to sit up and open her eyes. She struggled to focus and breathe. She tugged her skirt down. As they talked and shared stories, laughing and just enjoying being together, she reached for his hand. She needed to touch, needed in some small way to share her love with him in a tangible sense.

Just as she hadn't noticed the car arrive, she didn't notice the other car leaving because she was so focused on him and the conversation, but He noticed. "They're gone," he said as he smiled over at her. She grinned and just looked back at him. They waited each other out.

"And what does that mean?" she finally gave in and asked.

"I want you back the way you were and I want to continue what I was doing," he told her. She quickly slid back down in the seat, spreading her legs for him, pulling up the skirt to display herself to him.

"Who owns you little girl?" He asked her again as his hand moved to dip into her wetness.

"You do Sir," she replied on a small sigh. He flicked a finger over her clit and then teased her cunt before his finger pressed against her ass.

"I was a bit surprised by some of the things you wrote in your email earlier this week. I didn't realize how much you enjoy this part of our play," He told her as his finger teased her ass.

She felt like she couldn't breath. Her entire body felt as if she'd shatter into a million pieces. There were no thoughts. All she heard was his voice and her own ragged breathing.

"Could you cum from this?" he asked her as his finger pressed just a bit harder.

"Yes," she quickly replied. She knew she'd even beg for it.

"Promise?" he teased her.

She was already so close to that blissful edge. "Yes," she groaned.

"Then cum," He commanded her.

She cried out, His name on her lips as her body tightened and exploded. Her hips pressing up just a bit, wiggling against his hand, embarassment flushing her cheeks.

As she started to come back down, letting her breathing begin to return to normal, she felt him shift in his seat. The moan caught in her throat as his fingers slid into her ass. She bit her lip to stifle a small scream of pleasure as he pressed them deeper and began fucking her. She had to consciously keep herself from pressing back against his hand, from fucking him as much as he was fucking her. She writhed in the seat, whimpering as she struggled to hold back. Just when she thought she couldn't control her body any longer, he told her to cum. Her nails dug into her own palm as she came hard for him, arching and moaning. He eased his fingers out as she tried to steady her breathing. "Keep your eyes closed," he told her as if reading her mind. She, of course, obeyed.

She didn't have to wait and wonder why for long. His fingers traced along her inner thigh. Gentle, soothing touches.

"Who's my little slut?" He whispered.

"i am," she sighed.

"Who's my good girl?" He asked.

"i am," she whispered.

"Yes, you are," He replied just before his open palm came down on her inner thigh. She gasped in shock and from the sting. Her body jolted. She loved that he understood how pain brought her such intense pleasure.

He alternated between gentle caresses and sharp, stinging slaps, keeping her guessing, her mind reeling. Then he moved to play with her nipple through the fabric. Pinching and tugging until she was moaning ... and then several successive slaps to her sensitive inner thigh. She wiggled in the seat, the burning sting of her thigh seemingly tied directly to the burning need inside her. His hand moved back to her hot, wet pussy and he commanded her to cum for him for the final time. Her cry of "Master" seeming to echo in her own head as she released.

She slowly came back to her senses to hear him whisper "Shhh.  Take a deep breath, pet."

She sat up and pulled her skirt down, then brushed her hair from her cheeks while breathing deeply. She smiled at him, wishing she had words to tell him what this time together meant to her ... what he meant to her. He smiled, and she whispered the only words that mattered to her in that moment ... "i love you."

He came home to find her standing before him in a short black skirt, sheer white blouse, black stockings and black high heels. It was obvious she wasn't wearing a bra, as he could clearly see her dark, taut nipples pressing against the thin fabric of her blouse. He wondered if she was wearing any panties. Her cheeks were flushed. He looked at her and smiled, saying "What have you been up to my dear?"

She grinned, a Cheshire cat grin, and took his hand gently in hers. She slid their joined hands up her leg and he could feel her bare skin just above the lacy tops of her thigh high stockings. She kept pressing his hand higher. Suddenly he felt that she did indeed have a scrap of cloth covering her, though such a small amount of material should hardly be called panties. The fabric was wet with her liquid heat. He stifled a small groan as he slipped his fingers beneath the material and felt the vibrator gently humming, buried deep in her cunt. And his eyes widen a bit as he realized she had another, smaller toy in her ass. Pulling his hand away, he smiled at her. "Been a busy girl this evening I see. All hot and bothered. Decided you'd take care of yourself or at least get yourself worked up so that I would then take care of you ... did you cum?"

She slowly, barely, shook her head yes. He grinned and pulled her closer, pressing her tightly against his body. His hand moved up her back, brushed the back of her neck, and his fingers entwined in her hair. Pulling gently but firmly, just enough to cause her to gasp, tilting her head back a bit until she looked up at him. He held her gaze for a minute, feeling his own body tense as her lips parted and her breathing became more ragged. Tugging a bit more, he leaned down, his teeth finding the top of her ear, biting down until she groaned and her body trembled against his. Whispering in her ear, he asked "Are you allowed to play with yourself and cum without my permission slut?" He felt her try to shake her head no, knowing her mouth had gone dry and she couldn't force out the word. Pulling away, he looked down at her again. "And I'll bet you think you deserve a spanking for that?"

He saw the gleam in her eyes before she quickly lowered her gaze and looked down at the floor. He could see the blush rise in her cheeks, no doubt from the combined embarrassment of her brazen behavior and her excitement about what he might do to her. He felt a rush of power as he leaned close once again, softly kissing her cheek, whispering "Well my girl, I figure that's exactly what you're hoping for, so it will be more punishment if I don't give it to you." He felt her sharp intake of breath. Stepping back he could see the shock in her eyes. Laughing he said, "You're so predictable at times my dear. You'll leave those vibes right where they are, turned on low, through dinner while I decide what to do with you." He turned and went up the stairs to change and get ready for dinner. She stood just where she was, absorbing his words for a few moments before turning to go get dinner ready. As she stepped into the kitchen she heard him call down the stairs ... "Oh, and you're not to cum little girl."

She suffered until just after 9, struggling not to cum, squirming in her seat at dinner, feeling her own warmth trickle down her inner thighs as she washed the dishes. Biting her tongue to keep from begging him to take her while she sat on the floor at his feet reading while he dealt with email and other work tasks. Finally, when she thought she wouldn't be able to take it one more second, he told her to go up into the bedroom, strip down to just her panties, stockings and heels ... kneel on the floor at the end of the bed, turn the vibes up on high and wait for him while he took a shower. She was told she still was not allowed to cum.

He, of course, took his time in the shower. Grinning as he listened to her panting and whimpering in the next room. When he stepped back into the room, he watched her for a bit. He knew she was having trouble kneeling because she was wiggling and squirming so much. Her entire body was flushed pink with the strain of his denial. He wondered if she might actually begin to cry with frustration and need.

Her panties were dripping and she could feel the heat coating her legs. She wondered briefly if she had ever been this wet before. She felt frantic, wild, desperate ... and all she wanted was him. He stepped close to her, and she saw he was still naked from the shower, and her will broke enough that she began to beg. "Please Master, Your girl needs you. Please let me cum for you. Please take me. i'll do anything, just touch me and kiss me...." Her words were cut off by his own words ... "Turn off the vibes and take them out," he whispered to her.

Once she did, he took her hand and helped her up. He refused to touch more than her hand, knowing she was aching for it, but he held her steady. He had her lay back on the bed, instructing her to put her arms above her head and to spread her legs once she removed her panties. He then spent a good 10 minutes just gently trailing a few lengths of silky rope over her body while she struggled to stay still, moaning and sighing. Finally, he tied her hands to the headboard and her ankles to the bed posts at the other end of the bed, spreading her open before him, unable to move. He then leaned in close and asked "My girl, were you hoping to get a spanking?" In a barely audible whisper she admitted that she had been. "You need to learn that you won't always get what you want little girl."

He stepped away from the bed, out of her line of vision for a moment, leaving her wondering. When he stepped back she saw that he held a riding crop. Her already fuzzy mind went crazy. "He isn't going to spank me, but this looks promising," she thought and began squirming a bit on the bed. But he didn't hit her with it. Instead, he just ran it all over her body, tormenting her, running the leather over her swollen nipples, tickling her with the tip of the crop, until she thought she'd scream her need for more.

Reaching into the bedside table, he pulled out a small glass anal plug. Grinning, watching her eyes widen, he said "It seems you want to be filled, so I might as well help you with that. After all, that's My cunt and My ass you were playing with earlier. Don't cum pet." She bit her lip and pulled at the ropes as he slid the plug into her ass. She silently begged her body to not betray her.

He knelt across her chest, lifting her head up a little, telling her to suck his cock. She, of course, did so, more enthusiastically than he thought she'd ever done so before. He groaned at the pleasure of her warm, wet lips closing around his cock. He pressed closer, making her take all of him. Her soft, muffled moans of pleasure escaping from around his cock threatened to push him over the edge, so after a few minutes he pulled away from her. He smiled proudly as she whimpered at the loss of his cock. "What's the matter baby?" She wanted to beg, but couldn't find the words. He stood there and watched her struggle with what to say, and finally he whispered "Were you begging for my cock? Begging me to cum down your throat little slut?" "Yes Master," came her breathless reply.

He knelt between her legs and started running his fingers along her inner thighs, letting the backs of his fingers just brush against her aching pussy. Her body jolted in reaction as she tried to press closer to his hand. He leaned over her, waiting until her eyes focused on him, and said "You're still not cumming, girl." He pushed three fingers deep inside her, feeling her arch against him. Her mind exploded as she screamed out his name. He watched the sensation overtake her ... eyes fluttering closed, body writhing on the bed, broken whispers and moans.

He waited until she was just at the edge and then pulled his fingers out. Her eyes opened and as she began to whimper in protest, he buried his cock deep inside. Between the feel of the plug in her ass and her Master's cock taking her, she couldn't stifle the scream of ecstasy. He fucked her agonizingly slowly ... deep, long strokes ... Putting his hands on her hips, lifting her up a little, he held himself deep inside her. She could feel him throbbing. He began fucking her hard and fast as he growled at her. As her own body tensed, she felt his fingers dig into her hips and felt the hot flood of his cum insider her, causing her to cry out yet again.

As their bodies began to relax again and they tried to catch their breath, he rolled off of her, untied her with shaking hands, and pulled her in close to him. Laying together, curled up tight, he whispered "You're such a good girl."