3 days ago. June 19, 2024 at 5:18 AM
I do not beg to serve.
I serve to beg.
I do not beg to serve.
I serve to beg.
For those of you who haven't guessed it, I finally found a green vibrator!! These are not as plentiful as one might expect so I'm thrilled.
Also found some beautiful green lingerie to go with it.
Green goes well with my red hair and it is my favorite color!
What have you found in your favorite color that surprised you?
So, there is that.
I want nothing more than to be restrained by leash and collar. On my knees begging to serve.
Collared and leashed. On my knees, spread open. Waiting.
Am I serving him? As i move between his legs and spread them further?
Am I serving him as i move closer with my mouth? Breathing hot air upon his shaft.
Moving my lips to be closer to the head. Breathing hot air across his length.
Waiting for her command......
"Touch him", she says. But I can't. I want to obey but my lips scream NO!!!
A jerk of the chain and I'm brought back to she who owns me. "Please," i beg. Let me service him.
I move closer. tongue at his head. Slowly lathing down the shaft. Encircling his balls with my tongue. Engulfing them in my whole mouth. Sucking frantically. Feeling him get harder and harder.
Is that possible?
*smack* I feel the sting of her leash on my ass. I'm disobeying a direct order.
"Worship him!" And I do. I lathe his head and shaft with eager lips. Stroking and begging for him to cum in my mouth. Wrapping my lips around the head and coating him in my want.
"Please!"
I look to him, then to her.
"Please?"
I'm begging now.
"Yes, he will cum on you."
Sweet release as his cum pours over my lips and chest.
Yeeeesssss
Sweet release.
For the majority of you, this writing may be irrelevant. The number of Domly Ones who have psychic abilities is astronomical. Just ask them. They instinctively know what a sub needs, what they want and exactly the perfect way to achieve it each and every time.
For the rest of us we actually have to COMMUNICATE. Ugh! I hate it when that happens. Trying to express how I feel or what I need is hard. My attempts sound something like this:
Me: Domly One?
Domly One: Yes, baby girl? (raised eyebrow, slight smile, evil glint in his eyes)
Me: I feel .......
Domly One: Tell me.
Me: I feel .......
Domly One: What is it, little one?
Me: I feel ...... blechy
On any given occasion, blechy can mean; horny, frustrated, lonely, cold, bored,
hungry, bitchy, ticklish, tired, etc, etc
My particular Domly One is not one blessed with the oh-so-common psychic powers of absolutely EVERY Domly one who tells me, "I know what you need."
So, fellow sublettes, what are our options? The Domly Ones want to know what we think and feel. It is listed in their handbook that they must ask at least 12 unanswerable questions per week. (Don't ask me how I know this. Let's just say my best friend knows where a body is buried). But if they don't ask ..... what then?
Enter dreaded TFTB! Topping From The Bottom. Please come back! Don't run in fear. TFTB causes an instant reaction in the Domly ones that terrifies us meek and humble servants-of-their-deviant-desires. We fear their reprisals and damnation for committing the 2nd Deadly Subbie Sin. (The first being sending hooha pics that weren't solicited in advance. Just learned that one myself). We shiver and shake when we hear TFTB. It turns us sublettes into tattletales akin to those in the Salem Witch trials. You've never seen subbies turn on each other faster than the minute they hear TFTB. See? I can't even spell it out because I need to be able to sit this week.
Me: Domly One?
Domly One: Yes, babygirl?
Me: I need to be beaten (maybe for fun I'll even be on my knees with a crop in my hand, but maybe not)
Domly One: Works for me!
Now, if I post this on Fet, here is what would happen....
True Sublette: HOW DARE YOU TELL THE DOMLY ONE WHAT YOU NEED! YOU AREN'T A REAL SUB! WHO ARE YOU TO MAKE DEMANDS OF THE DOMLY ONE?!?! YOU LOATHSOME BITCH! CRAWL BACK INTO YOUR FAKE SUBBIE PROFILE AND NEVER SPEAK AGAIN!
Brown-nosing Sublette: I'd never tell the Domly one what I need. It's up to Him to decide what He wants to give me. All hail the Domly One.
Feisty Sublette:* Race you to the bedroom?*
All Knowing Sublette: Eeeek. You're Topping From The Bottom. You don't deserve a Domly One. He should never beat you again.
Perfect Sublette (shout out to SubtlePrincess19): I need whatever you need.
Every Other Sublette On The Planet: Ooo, Ooo, ME NEXT!!! I need it too.
Newbie Sublettes: What in the hell are you people talking about? Do I tell him or not?
Ultimately, it really is about communication.
Communication is the key to getting to know each other, understand each other and best meet each others' needs.
If you need a beating, tell him. You may not get it, but at least he knows. If you need to cuddle, tell him. You may not get it, but he will respond. If you need orgasm denial, tell him. He might turn it into forced orgasms, but you can bet he'll be thinking about denial in the near future. If you need to be centered, tell him. Experiment with different things until you find what works for you.
You may have been together for a million seconds or a million years but you are changing and he is changing. It is okay to say you want soft/cuddly one day and have your ass ripped to shreds the next. It doesn't make you a liar or a fake. It doesn't mean you are crazy or deceptive. It means your needs change.
What I've decided for myself (with the help of some interesting discussions) is that TFTB is when you are in the middle of a scene saying, "You missed a spot." Communication is after a scene (or any other time that you aren't in the middle of it) openly expressing the part of you that wants to say, "Gimme, gimme, gimme!"
More importantly, communication; whether by posting a writing on Fet, writing it in chalk on your driveway, making cupcakes covered with your words, screaming at the top of your lungs, or smoke signals; is whatever you two decide it is.
Express yourself freely and ignore people who tell you are wrong for doing exactly that. They will communicate in their way, you do it in yours.
I prefer packing a suitcase, draining the bank account and standing at the door pouting.... but whatever works, works. If it doesn't work, try something else. Or, consider finding a psychic Domly one.
Guess now would be a good time to plug the airplane banner company I just purchased
For the majority of you, this writing may be irrelevant. The number of Domly Ones who have psychic abilities is astronomical. Just ask them. They instinctively know what a sub needs, what they want and exactly the perfect way to achieve it each and every time.
For the rest of us we actually have to COMMUNICATE. Ugh! I hate it when that happens. Trying to express how I feel or what I need is hard. My attempts sound something like this:
Me: Domly One?
Domly One: Yes, baby girl? (raised eyebrow, slight smile, evil glint in his eyes)
Me: I feel .......
Domly One: Tell me.
Me: I feel .......
Domly One: What is it, little one?
Me: I feel ...... blechy
On any given occasion, blechy can mean; horny, frustrated, lonely, cold, bored,
hungry, bitchy, ticklish, tired, etc, etc
My particular Domly One is not one blessed with the oh-so-common psychic powers of absolutely EVERY Domly one who tells me, "I know what you need."
So, fellow sublettes, what are our options? The Domly Ones want to know what we think and feel. It is listed in their handbook that they must ask at least 12 unanswerable questions per week. (Don't ask me how I know this. Let's just say my best friend knows where a body is buried). But if they don't ask ..... what then?
Enter dreaded TFTB! Topping From The Bottom. Please come back! Don't run in fear. TFTB causes an instant reaction in the Domly ones that terrifies us meek and humble servants-of-their-deviant-desires. We fear their reprisals and damnation for committing the 2nd Deadly Subbie Sin. (The first being sending hooha pics that weren't solicited in advance. Just learned that one myself). We shiver and shake when we hear TFTB. It turns us sublettes into tattletales akin to those in the Salem Witch trials. You've never seen subbies turn on each other faster than the minute they hear TFTB. See? I can't even spell it out because I need to be able to sit this week.
Me: Domly One?
Domly One: Yes, babygirl?
Me: I need to be beaten (maybe for fun I'll even be on my knees with a crop in my hand, but maybe not)
Domly One: Works for me!
Now, if I post this on Fet, here is what would happen....
True Sublette: HOW DARE YOU TELL THE DOMLY ONE WHAT YOU NEED! YOU AREN'T A REAL SUB! WHO ARE YOU TO MAKE DEMANDS OF THE DOMLY ONE?!?! YOU LOATHSOME BITCH! CRAWL BACK INTO YOUR FAKE SUBBIE PROFILE AND NEVER SPEAK AGAIN!
Brown-nosing Sublette: I'd never tell the Domly one what I need. It's up to Him to decide what He wants to give me. All hail the Domly One.
Feisty Sublette:* Race you to the bedroom?*
All Knowing Sublette: Eeeek. You're Topping From The Bottom. You don't deserve a Domly One. He should never beat you again.
Perfect Sublette (shout out to SubtlePrincess19): I need whatever you need.
Every Other Sublette On The Planet: Ooo, Ooo, ME NEXT!!! I need it too.
Newbie Sublettes: What in the hell are you people talking about? Do I tell him or not?
Ultimately, it really is about communication.
Communication is the key to getting to know each other, understand each other and best meet each others' needs.
If you need a beating, tell him. You may not get it, but at least he knows. If you need to cuddle, tell him. You may not get it, but he will respond. If you need orgasm denial, tell him. He might turn it into forced orgasms, but you can bet he'll be thinking about denial in the near future. If you need to be centered, tell him. Experiment with different things until you find what works for you.
You may have been together for a million seconds or a million years but you are changing and he is changing. It is okay to say you want soft/cuddly one day and have your ass ripped to shreds the next. It doesn't make you a liar or a fake. It doesn't mean you are crazy or deceptive. It means your needs change.
What I've decided for myself (with the help of some interesting discussions) is that TFTB is when you are in the middle of a scene saying, "You missed a spot." Communication is after a scene (or any other time that you aren't in the middle of it) openly expressing the part of you that wants to say, "Gimme, gimme, gimme!"
More importantly, communication; whether by posting a writing on Fet, writing it in chalk on your driveway, making cupcakes covered with your words, screaming at the top of your lungs, or smoke signals; is whatever you two decide it is.
Express yourself freely and ignore people who tell you are wrong for doing exactly that. They will communicate in their way, you do it in yours.
I prefer packing a suitcase, draining the bank account and standing at the door pouting.... but whatever works, works. If it doesn't work, try something else. Or, consider finding a psychic Domly one.
Guess now would be a good time to plug the airplane banner company I just purchased
Guess what? I'm not a brat. I challenge, instigate and contradict, but I am not a brat. I am a strong, submissive whose submission must be earned and, therefore, treasured.
I will not pout because of a rule infraction or punishment. I will pout if you fail to articulate your reasoning.
I will not sulk because I've been punished or disciplined. I will sulk if you haven't explained to me what you expect and how I have failed to achieve your expectations.
I will not be disrespectful because you set standards of behavior. I will be disrespectful if you have not commanded my respect through your dominance and institution of expectations.
I will not taunt you because your methods are weak. I will taunt you if you fail to demonstrate your authority over me through consistency and affection.
I will not cry because you didn't love me enough. I will cry because I feel abandoned and alone in my shame at not pleasing you.
I will not scream because you didn't reach out to me in my time of need. I will scream when you leave me alone in the abyss to which you have brought me.
I will not seethe because you didn't do what I expected/wanted. I will seethe when you presume that you are unnecessary in the process of reconciling the intensity of emotion you created and abandoned me to face this demon alone.
No, I am not a brat. I am a challenge and a treasure. Earn me and your rewards will be boundless.
I know you are scared, so let me guide you.
I know you are sad, so let me take your tears.
I know you are nervous, so let me lead you.
I know you are delicate, so let me be your strength.
I know you are tired, so let me carry your burdens.
I know you are stifled, so let me release you.
I know you are beautiful, so let me reflect it back to you.
I know you are caged, so let me show you freedom.
I know you are thinking, so let me take your thoughts away.
I know you are intelligent, so let me explore your mind.
I know you are silly, so let me make you laugh.
I know you are selfless, so let me reward your gift.
I know you are strong, so let me overwhelm you.
I know you are weak, so let me show you your power.
I know you are quiet, so let me release your screams.
I know you are fragile, so let me break and rebuild you.
I know you are trapped, so let me release your bonds.
I know you are upset, so let me absorb your pain.
I know you are mine, so let me be yours.
I am your candle, you are my flame.
A Simple Act
Today, when you came in for lunch, I felt a flutter in my stomach. You told me to make you something to eat. Such a simple command had the force of a hand squeezing my heart. As I was getting food ready, I was thinking of what you would want, what you would need, what would satisfy you. That helped me remember all of the little things, the extra napkin, the tortilla, ice for your drink. It felt ritualistic.
You sat down to eat and motioned for me to sit next to you. I didn't. Instead, I felt compelled to kneel next to you, a simple act. We talked, laughed, you even fed me fruit. The whole time felt magical. How can I describe the triumph I felt when you looked down and smiled at me? Triumph over myself and my own stubborness. I wasn't expecting you to feed me, yet was flushed with the pleasure it gave me. All cares and concerns were gone. There was no one but you and you were happy; Happy with me.
So with this simple act, I give you the gift of my submission. I am yours and I am loved.
If you want to possess my body, you must first possess my mind
My mind is a place of ordered chaos; planning, scheduling, anticipating, worrying, and orchestrating the 12-ring circus that is our lives. Take possession of my mind, take control of my body and I will submit with all of my heart and soul.
Tell me to strip, and my thoughts start to change focus.
Tell me I’m beautiful, so I can see myself through your eyes instead of my own.
Tell me you’re pleased, so I don’t feel like I’m failing you.
Be prepared, so I don’t worry about what you might have forgotten.
Talk to me while we play, or my mind will stray.
Tell me I’m wet for you, and I sink further into your hands knowing you are aware of my reactions.
Tell me to open my legs, and I relinquish control.
Tell me to look at you, so I feel your presence and make the connection of who controls my physical pleasure.
Tell me you want to do things to me, so I can trust that you know where you are taking me.
Give me pain, because sometimes it is too hard to shut down my own thoughts.
Give me pain, if I have disappointed you so I can try harder.
Give me pain, so you can take me further than I thought possible.
Tell me why I’m being punished, so I know you care enough to help make me better.
Tell me to take pain/pleasure from you, beyond what I perceive are my limits.
Take me to that place where no one exists but you and your desires.
Afterwards, tell me what my submission meant to you.
Remind me that you own me in all ways and why that is important to you.
Reassure me that I’ve done exactly as you wanted, so I don’t feel insecure.
Tell me what you are thinking and feeling, because my own thoughts can deceive me.
Push beyond my resistance, and release me from myself.
Take possession of my mind, and all of me is YOURS.
She sat on the edge of the couch.
Danger was near. She sensed it. That feeling you get in the pit of your stomach that says, "RUN!!"
But she didn't. Not now, not yet.
He stood before her. "What would you like?"
It wasn't a question of food or beverage. He was looking deeply into her eyes.
"I..... i....i... I don't know," she stammered.
She would like...... oh so many things.
He had been taunting her all evening. Hands brushing across her breasts to undo her seatbelt. Fingers slipping across her thighs to take her hand and lead her out onto the patio. Hands on her hips just a little too low. No wonder she was flustered!
"Sir, I think maybe I should go," she said with feigned determination.
"Should you?"
He motioned to his driver.
"Yes, I mean no. I mean, no. Please. I don't want to leave." She was embarrassed and looked at the ground. His finger crooked under her chin. "Child, stay if you wish or leave for your own safety."
Safety? What had she gotten herself into? It didn't matter. The only thing was that she wanted more; needed more.
"Como quieras, quiero," she said softly.
He took her hand and led her to the backyard. The lake shimmered in the moonlight and the trees were lit by a thousand rays.
"Closer, please." This was no command, it was an invitation. She followed, keeping her head down. She was excited and ashamed and exhilarated all at the same time.
He pressed something cold into the palm of her hand. She rolled it in her fingers and knew what it was. She couldn't! She wouldn't! ..... she would.
He added the lube to her hands and she knew. He was not doing what he wanted, he was forcing her to do what SHE wanted.
Had she had panties they would have been laid aside by now. But she didn't..... and she wanted .... and she did.
The item was a plug and she coated it with the lube in the faithless hope that it would help ease the intensity. She moved sideways so as to not show him her discomfort and simultaneous arousal.
"Ohhhhh," she moaned against the pressure of the invasion. Her body tensed and relaxed accepting the intrusion. That feeling of penetration and fullness flooded her body. All thought left her.
"Baby girl, don't leave me." He whispered in her ear pressing the length of his body against hers. She squirmed against him. The pressure in her ass heightening as his hardness pressed against her.
The force of his body pressed her against the trees and he slowly unzipped her dress. She was hugging the oak that stood before her. Letting the shoulder straps slip from her frame. She hugged all the harder feeling the bark on her soft skin.
The skirts fell around her feet and she quickly kicked them away.
"There is more for you, my sweet," he spoke to her in a slightly more sinister manner. He pulled her arms apart and began attaching rope to her wrists, secured by carabiners in the trunk of the tree.
Her breasts scraped against the abrasions of the tree bark. Her ass clenched in shame. With one swift stroke of the knife, her panties were gone.
"Oh damn!" what had she gotten herself into?!?!
His hand stroked her back and she felt reassured; until he reached down and smackedher tender ass.
"Noooo!" she cried. The pain and pressure of the plug intensified exponentially. Did she know she was an anal virgin?
"No, my sweet?" he asked menacingly "No, what?"
The entire front of her body was being pressed and scraped against the tree.
The full moon lit the lake in front of them like a candle in a mirror.
The lake!! It drew her eyes and made her forget, just for moment, that she was in discomfort and aroused. Yes, she was aroused. She felt herself melting into her pussy with juices flowing.
SMACK
Harder this time. Right against her ass, pressing the plug deeper inside her. Again and again he tortured her. Or so she thought.....
whirrrrrr
It was unmistakable. That sound....
She tensed against the tree, breasts aching with the abrasions. She squeezed the tree tighter fearing what was to come next. She knew. She didn't want it. She wanted it. She needed it. But NO!!!!
But Oh My God, YES!!!!!!
He came up behind her and pressed his leg between hers. He pushed them apart and breathed into her ear. "Now, my sweet, you will wish you had left." With that he spread her legs further apart. The vibrator move against her thighs threateningly. Slowly, methodically, he moved it closer to her pussy.
"DON'T cum!" he commanded as the vibrations hit her clit. Over and over the waves of frustration plagued her.
"PLEASE!" She begged.
"No," he responded, whispering in her ear, pressing harder against her clit and moving it back against her pussy. Over and over again he tormented her.
"PLEASE!" she begged once again.
With that he withdrew his tormentor against the tormented. He unhooked her restraints and guided her to the fire pit.
There she collapsed on the ground between his legs.
The moon shone so brightly she could see and feel the erection pressing against his slacks.
He wrapped a blanket around her and let her rest her head on his leg. He stroked her hair and smiled down at her.
How did he know she wondered? How did he know that the denial of her orgasm was as heady as the orgasm itself?
Sweet and sour.