His Girl's Life

Enter Witty Blog Title Here

2012-02-10T11:29:00.000-05:00

I can't stop thinking about you hurting me. It's funny, because I hate it. Just like I hate being called stupid, a cunt, or being told to shut up. But yet, when you say such things, I get so wet thinking about it. It's like you telling me you almost made me eat all of those candies, just because you knew I hated them. In reality, I would've choked them down, not enjoying a single bite of it. But right now, just thinking about it, I'm getting so fucking turned on. Yes, the mere idea of you making me eat some sweet treats that I don't like so much I spit it out really makes me hot.

I also have been having foreplay with myself all night. Knowing I can have a play is so freeing. I let myself watch your videos, look at your pictures. I crave hearing the noises you make when you're about to cum. And knowing you're so good at the silent orgasms makes me want it even more. Like sometimes you *let* me hear. I told a friend tonight about how I play the game where I try to hear dirty things from you. And that mostly you're amused. I think my friend was a little frightened that I admitted you calling me a stupid bitch was hot. Because really, call me fat, ugly, old, mean, whatever. I've probably used similar or worse words about myself. But calling me stupid usually is such a hot spot for me, a trigger right to my defense mechanism of having a snarky comeback. But today, when you said it, I just wanted more more more. I used to tread lightly when you were in a sadistic teasing mood. Today, it just made me squirm around in my seat, soaking wet.

Which brings me round to what my friend and I were talking about. The embarrassment of *hating* being hurt. I had a bit of an epiphany. It's different than *playing at a scene* with someone who *enjoys dominating subs*. You are a sadist. It's not about making me love getting spanked, or pinched or bit really fucking hard, or however you wish to entertain your whim. That's not the point. I just get to a breaking point and can't help but fight and struggle. And then I feel so shy and embarrassed about it, like I was a bad slave, because I couldn't take all that you had to give. I'm so lucky you like that I struggle.

But the struggle starts long before I'm screaming into the mattress and trying (unsuccessfully) to crawl away. The struggle starts at the beginning, when I can barely keep still, I'm so excited you're about to touch me. And then the struggle to not just wiggle my ass and be a total whore while you're touching me. And then, when it really starts to hurt and I'm struggling to be a good girl and take whatever you want to give me. I totally got it. That crying, screaming (embarrassingly weak) place of taking it until you are done with me is just a part serving a sadistic Master. I still stand by my stance of not being a masochist. I'm really so much more the opposite, craving pleasure. But being a good slave, devoted adoringly to a sadist, it just comes with the territory. I still feel a thrill that I can be that for you. I love that you enjoy it and it's a pleasure I happily facilitate for you. And because of that, I crave it. The way you hurt me, breaking me open, then rewarding me with pleasure beyond measure. That is the best drug I've ever taken. And I'm a junkie.

The Challenge

2011-04-28T10:02:00.000-04:00

My Master loves to surprise me. He calls unexpectedly sometimes and I
get so flustered still. As a matter of fact, I still get so giggly
and silly, yesterday on the phone I couldn't stop. I just kept
giggling and blushing. Luckily, Mr. G was at work and it wasn't too
long of a conversation. Minutes after we hung up, I was laughing at
myself, how silly I am! I often remind myself of that scene from
Dirty Dancing where Baby kind of just crashes the party and when he
asks her how she got in there she says "I carried a watermelon." I
say the most inane things to him just LIKE that! It's so
embarrassing! Luckily, he finds it endearing that I'm so enamored
with him.

Yesterday Mr. G surprised me by saying yes to one of the crazier
things I've said lately. He said he had to go but would call me back
in 25 minutes. And I said something like I should see how many times
I can cum in that 25 minutes. He laughed and said that's a good idea!
OHMYGOD. Master knows there are times that I just need to cum and
cum and cum until I'm barely conscious. My need to cum is more than
just rubbing one off real quick. Sometimes, I just need to be used
completely up. And I love a challenge! I wanted to truly impress and
amaze him. I knew it could be an impressive number and I needed to
fuck myself and hurt myself and fill up all my holes and make myself
cum and cum and cum. I loved that he said yes and I could hear him in
my head, urging me on to each orgasm.

And there were lots, let me tell you. I was smart, though. I had a
piece of paper and a marker next to me to help me keep count. I knew
my brain would shortly turn to mush. And as it turned out, it was
more like 40 minutes!! I even did something I'm sure I've never done
before. I was trying to achieve the trifecta, three clit orgasms.
Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty sure I've had three clit orgasms in one
play session, but it's really mostly elusive. Usually I give up for
fear of stroking out and dying with toys lodged in my body. Not a
very proud way to go! But yesterday, I pushed myself. And got that
third clit orgasm. I even did the really really rare back-to-back
clit orgasms, without taking the jackhammer off my body, just moving
it to different places and keeping at it, cumming almost as soon as
I'd recovered from the third with a fourth. Truly amazing! And my
grand total? Fourteen.

I have not been blogging much because in my spare time, I am working
on a book with Mr. G. So any writing or creative thoughts I've had
lately have gone in that direction. I wish I could clone myself and
one of me could just sit at the computer all day long, writing.

I am Pavlov's Dog

2011-04-17T06:56:00.000-04:00

I find it no coincidence that the last three mornings on my drive into
work, the song that is Mr. G's ringtone played on my ipod shuffle mix.
And even though I know it's not him calling, I find my body
physically reacting, like I'm about to get to talk to him. And then,
I almost go into a trance, having a highlight reel of personal porn
running through my head as I drive through stop-and-go rush hour
traffic.

All three times, my nipples got hard, my pussy wet. I found my
breathing going into that shallow, almost panting feeling. I'm pretty
sure I moaned this morning, too. But I'm always all post-coital glow
after I cum for/with my Master. And post-coital glow doesn't necessarily
mean I need to cum so very badly. I'm in more of a ....moaning, sensitive
nipples, foggy, content place. It's amazing how being a dirty whore for
him really rights everything in my world that has gone askew.

And last night, he was in rare form. It really is funny how when he's
in an especially teasing and giving me a hard time mood (sadistic) I
get so turned on. I used to get defensive and sensitive and hurt
feelings all the time. And now when he makes fun of me or taunts me,
I go to my foggy, turned on slave place.

I often pace around while I'm on the phone with him. It's hard for me to
be still. Let me tell you, I get *tons* of housework done while we chat.
But other times, I find I can't hardly move and need to be lying in a dark
private room with him and just drink in his....himness. So I'm in the
guest room, t&k are doing the nightly won't go to sleep and give us adult-time dance and I'm whispering provocative things at him and feeling like my body might explode.

He tells me "Go lock the door." Now, let me tell you. I wouldn't put
a THING past Mr. G when he's feeling sadistic. So I never get my
hopes up immediately. I could just hear how hard he'd laugh if he
acted like he was going to let me cum for him and then said I
couldn't.

"Really, or are you fucking with me?" I think was my response. I
could barely talk. Just thinking about it now, his voice saying those
words to me, I'm shaking.

"Really. Go lock the door."

Oh my. And he told me to take my bottoms and knickers off. That is
so fucking hot. My knickers. Anyway, I digress. So he has me touch
my pussy, to see if I'm wet. And, huge shock here, I'm soaked. But
it's more than that. My pussy is emanating heat like a furnace. My
clit is so swollen and sensitive, just brushing across it to feel
between my lips and see if I'm wet makes me moan and shudder.

Then he has me fingerfuck myself for him. And I know I've lamented my
short, thin fingers before. But seriously, when I'm as far gone as he
had me last night, I think my fingers can be the best thing that's
ever touched my pussy. Because it's not that. It's not that I *have*
to be quiet, discreet even. I don't get turned on by that, it
actually takes away from the turn-on for me because I'm usually too
worried of being heard. But I was quiet enough last night that t
didn't even know what had happened and was very impressed when I told
him where i'd just been, with a dreamy, zen-like expression on my
face.

But I came so hard, damn. It was so fucking hot. Hearing him
whispering dirty things in my ear. Telling me what to do to this body
for him. Him talking in his Dom voice in a way that's so pure, so
soul-tapping. It's so much more than just cumming for him, for his
pleasure. It's like the purest most amazing confirmation that I'm
his. He claims me and takes care of me. But also that dirty, I would
finger myself with people just a landing and bedroom door away and cum
so hard, so deep, so toe curling and ass clenching. Twice, actually.

So it's really no wonder that this morning when I heard Justin
Timberlake sing "I'm bringing sexy back" and the beat started
thumping, I reacted in true Pavolv doggie style and went to my foggy,
slutty sub place.

If You Don't Know What B Means, Let Us Explain

2011-04-14T17:37:00.000-04:00

This is going to be short. For a very good reason. I'm in a mode
where I need to shush my inner voice. My internal chatter has gotten
so loud lately, having me think and rethink things almost obsessively.
Even as I type this, I keep hitting delete and thinking shhhhhhh

I know that everything will be all right. I just need to quiet my
inner neurotic insecure thoughts running through my head. And I have
found a very effective way to gag that inner voice, so to speak.
Luckily, my work completely takes over my brain and it takes all my
mental capacity to do it. And when I talk to Mr. G or am with k & t
and being mommy, it's always almost completely silent. But in my car,
when I'm alone, in the shower....I feel like thoughts just rush to my
head at a break-neck speed. So I play my music that takes over
whatever that part of my brain is and I just sing along. I'll end
this blog with the perfect playlist to tell your brain, "Shut the fuck
up!"

B-Girls - Young & Restless (where the title comes from)
Bawitdaba - Kid Rock
One Week - Bare Naked Ladies
The New Style - Beastie Boys
Lose Yourself - Eminem
In Da Club - 50 Cent

I Won't Give up if You Don't Give up

2011-04-09T14:17:00.000-04:00

(title is reference to one of my favorite Train songs)

I am not going to go into great details, because I do try not to cross that line of sharing too much and airing one's dirty laundry here. But I also know that blogging and writing has its benefits of therapy and also a small sense of a support group feel when another person writes about exactly what I'm feeling and therefore I feel less alone and less freaked out by my own feelings or someone comments that they've been where I'm finding myself.

So the delicate part of this particular blog is this week's issues weren't mine. The best way I can put it is Mr. G felt overwhelmed, felt like he was pulled in too many directions already, with his own family commitments and work and busy life. He felt so stressed and like he was not giving me enough attention. The frustrating part was it wasn't anything I said or did to make him feel this way. He is an alpha male, he sees what he sees and hears what he hears sometimes and feels badly he's not fixing things that aren't broken.

Luckily for me (and this blog) he picked me, he picked us. I am so very relieved. Because, truly, before that fateful conversation where the floor dropped out from underneath me, I'd been so happy, so content, so feeling like I'm making it all work. That made his confessions of unhappiness even more astounding to me. I thought we were doing great. It's serious work, being a good spouse, parent, and working a demanding job. Add to that another person's life and stresses and well-being. I get it. He is a good Master. He feels responsible to me and to my mental health and day-to-day life.

But he needs to recharge his batteries and not feel guilty that I'm feeling neglected. And I haven't been. He's so (not soft, not romantic, or mushy) thoughtful. He calls when he just has five minutes to say hi. He drops me an email and tells me he's thinking of me during a busy day. All that stuff goes a long way in my world. I get it when the kids are finally asleep and the wife isn't needing your attention, it's fucking KEY to have that unwind time, that recharge your batteries time; whether it be hobbies or just surfing Youtube. I'm lucky in that I can grab a bit of that here and there all day because for the most part I work at home alone.

So now my issues are two-fold. How do I say I love you and miss you when we're not talking but not imply that I think he's selfish for not *making* time for me right then?

And the real biggie is: how do I not censor myself? Not hold back for fear of being too much work, too high maintenance? He's told me not to. That he wants me to share everything, per usual. (This is where Mr. G might want to skip ahead. He doesn't want to hear about me not needing him or knowing I will live if we end.) But I'm a survivalist. I know that the thread of life can get snapped in a millisecond and then you never get to talk to someone you love ever again. I've survived the deaths of two people that really shaped my life. Losing my dad the way I did makes me know I can live through anything.

So I have some serious defense mechanisms. I'm a rip the Band-aid off quickly kind of girl. If something is going to happen, please, let it happen right now so that I can just start dealing with it. But I'm also a (mostly) rational adult and was able to sit back, give him time, and let him figure it out. Luckily, it was less than a week. And even during that time, he made me know he still loves me and was thinking about me.

And I have my weird shit, just like everyone else. I get anxious on Sundays. I don't know why. I just do. My sister does, too, ironically. When I worked at a job I hated, I got anxiety attacks so badly Sunday night, I was taking xanax regularly. Most Sundays now I just feel a general sense of dread and can deal with it by keeping busy. I know this makes no sense and I'm sure Mr. G feels doubly bad because Sunday is a busy day for him usually, with family, running errands and just generally being out and about. So I'm sure my "I'm feeling so weird and off" type emails really make him feel fantastic.

I already regret typing this much personal stuff. I'm actually thinking I don't want to post this. I just don't know how to be right now. I'm scared. I don't want to just go forward, like nothing ever happened. I am thrilled beyond belief that He thinks that owning me is worth the work.

I understand that I'm still His girl. He's still my Master. All the rules still apply. Now I just need to figure out how do I go back to being that secure, knowing He loves me and cares about me even when our contact is less girl without being afraid the next time I get PMS He's going to think, fuck, this is exhausting. I need to leave before she sucks me dry? I want the break we took this week to mean something, a lesson learned so we don't have to go through that again. Because I'm a survivor and all that, but this past week has sucked majorly. I know it hasn't been a picnic for Him either, so I won't dwell on that. I'd just love it if we could somehow communicate better what's going on before it gets to the I need some time alone to think of what I want place.

And if He wants me, but less of me. I can do that, too. I don't need to spill my guts to Him like I do, like this blog is. I can start privately journaling more, as opposed to emailing my every thought like I do now. I want to be His favorite toy, His porn star, His good girl.

***This was posted with Mr. G's approval and my great relief that it is a lesson learned as opposed to the end of a chapter of my life.

The Freakshow Curtain Parts

2011-03-29T15:35:00.003-04:00

First things first, I need to set the stage for this one. I've been alluding to this experience since I returned from my trip. I feel like I've put lots of pressure on myself to write this with just the right amout of accuracy and description, to give this Twilight Zone experience the attention it deserves.

Mr. G turns me on. (um, duh, big revelation there.) But I mean he turns me on to the point that I'm almost drunk with it. There's been times on the phone when he's just teasing me and has made me so out of my head turned on, I have to lie on the couch and just clench my thighs together because it's the only thing that will keep me from exploding. So you can imagine how much more intense this is when I'm actually in the same room with him. One time, he kissed me and just barely touched the tip of his tongue to my lips and I swear I almost passed out. Yes, he kissed me and I almost swooned. I kid you not.

I loved proving to him how much I wanted to please him and help him cum and be his whore in that way, and that it's not all about my selfish pleasure. I felt like such a good girl, like I was a slave he could be proud to own. But I also was so primed and ready and turned on, I had to change panties multiple times. I felt so horny, I don't feel that I can properly describe it. It's like I felt even more under his control. Even more his toy, his plaything. His girl that he can keep blissfully horny.

But I didn't feel the frustration, the pent-up, I want to hurt myself feeling I get when I get really turned on and don't get fucked or get permission to rub one off almost immediately. It was more like I was high on something. My body felt like all my nerve endings were buzzing, but I wasn't in hyper mode, it was more like I was moving in slow motion. I was so turned on, a rub across my nipple, through my shirt and bra could make me moan. And my nipples aren't even really that sensitive. But I'd moan and rub my legs together and my Master would laugh which would only make me almost embarrassed that I was such a slut. (which only just turns me on more!)

And then, this one night. We're watching “Pumping Iron”, the 70's bodybuilding movie with Arnold Schwarzenegger and Lou Ferrigno. As a side note, I do not get turned on in the least by oiled up muscle heads flexing and comparing biceps while in the shower or wearing tiny bikinis. That's not to say that I don't have gladiator/cage fighting type fantasies, but that's a whole different blog. I only say this to explain that we weren't watching anything like porn or anything even remotely sexy. We watched a wide range of things, but I can tell you, this might have been the least sexy thing we watched.

So we are lying side by side in bed. He's just absentmindedly touching me, not even teasing me or being sexual, just touching me. And he's is rubbing my leg and all of a sudden, he rubs behind my knee. And it was like whoa! I said “careful, sir.” because I realized he just hit a BIG errogenous zone. It felt like he'd rubbed his fingers across my clit! I swear! I might have even tried to pull my leg away, the feeling was so strong. Which, of course, prompted him to grab my leg and hold it in place and rub the back of my knee even more intensely.

I can only say that it really felt like he was rubbing my clit. He started saying all the filthy things that he says to me that makes me feel like I'm going to explode, and that combined with his rubbing of my spot, it wasn't too long before I was begging him to cum. It felt like how it does with my clit, with the feeling building and building and building. And that was the kind of orgasm I had. My clit orgasms, I imagine, are the most like a guy's orgasm. Big, explosive, draining. That was the kind of orgasm I had. From him rubbing the back of my knee. Even just now as I'm typing this, he called and we both just had a good laugh at how bizarre that sounds.

As soon as I'd stopped shivering and gasping, I was horrified. There's lots of times after I cum really hard for him, I get shy. It's almost like, wow, I can't believe what a slut I just was. But this was different. I feel like such a freak! To cum that hard from him rubbing the back of my knee. That's just weird, dude. Seriously.

And I tried to hide my face, I was like....I can't believe that just happened. But Mr. G never lets me hide from him. He turned me around and made me look at him and asked what's going on. And I said I feel like a freak. That was so intense, so bizarre. He said the perfect thing, something to the effect of it just shows how much control he has over me and that it's a good thing. So, thankfully, I quickly got over the horror. It's almost like the embarrassment was much more intense, just like the orgasm was so intense. Even now, I'm blushing as I type this. I'm a fucking weirdo.

And this spontaneous orgasm thing happened a second time. This time didn't quite have the surprise-factor the first time had and he was, technically, touching my pussy. But he was stroking me through my panties. It's not like he was fingerfucking me or rubbing my clit. The only touching was through the material and even then, just light touching. He wasn't grabbing my pussy, or cupping it, or smacking it or anything. He just lightly touched me and whispered dirty fucking hot things in my ear and made me cum so hard like that. Just like when he rubbed my knee, or when he's rubbed my clit. Thankfully, he told me to make notes, so I actually wrote a couple of things he said down, which typing them right now is going to make me want to put my hand in my panties right this second (I won't. Don't worry, Master).

“You're my whore.”
“I own your body.”
“Remember what it feels like to cum for me.”

I hope I don't ever forget.

More from the Mr. G Admiration Society

2011-03-24T20:11:00.000-04:00

First off, I have to confess. I'm a skeptic. I try very hard to not
be a negative person, but I kind of function under the theory of I'll
believe you, if you just prove it. I even used to doubt the realness
of squirting in porn, thinking it was some crazy filmmaker's special
effects or that the girl was just peeing, until I actually experienced
it myself. And I'd even been told by people with firsthand experience
of squirting (or secondhand, I guess if they're the ones getting
squirted on, technically). I just didn't think it was real until it
happened to me.

I am very in touch with my body. I've been in it for 38 (going to be
39 soon...wah!!!!) years and at least conscious of what's going on
with it for like 26 years. And yet, Mr. G has done things to and with
my body that have never been done before. He makes me cum in new and
interesting ways. Even just talking about this with him today, I got
all tongue-tied and blushed bright red. I get *so* embarrassed and
shy. I think it might be partially because it's a little
awe-inspiring, that these kinds of orgasms are even possible. Part of
getting all goosey and silly is that I feel a bit like a carnival
side-show freak. He even said how there's nothing to be embarrassed
of, it just shows how much control he has over me. I just have never
heard of real occurrences like this from real women (not men
pretending to be women and writing bad erotica). Although, granted, in
my circle of women, we're not often discussing orgasms or our Masters.

So the first mind-altering orgasm I had was very unexpected. The
history of this unusual occurrence actually goes back to before my
last visit. Before both of my trips Mr. G has given me the task of
riding a toy for X number of minutes, adding minutes every few days
until it was up to 10 minutes. I had to straddle it, squat on it, et
cetera, bouncing up and down porn star style with a stopwatch in my
hand. Oh, and I couldn't cum. Now, mind you, I don't usually cum
very easily on top. So I really took this task to heart as more of a
get my ass in shape type of task, rather than a he's trying to
torture me task, although I'm sure there's always a little of that.
Last visit I only barely got to show off my newly acquired cock-riding
skills (which are still really pathetic. it has a lot to do with the
fact that I have no rhythm, not much balance and when I get close to
cumming, I pretty much stop moving.)

Well, let me just say that when put to the test, I don't really think
I got a passing grade. I can complain and say the couch he was
sitting on was too low. I was nervous. He turns me on so much, I
sometimes forget what I'm doing. So, he'll have to speak for himself,
but I think, at best, rating my own self, the porn star bouncing on
the gorgeous stud's cock, I would say I was adequate at best. This
certainly inspired me to practice this task at different heights, with
my legs wider and closer apart for my next trip. I think I felt so
off my game because it wasn't one of the two positions I'd practiced
so very carefully.

So while I'm taking a catch-my-breath break, Mr. G starts fucking me
some, really grinding his cock deep inside me. God damn, it felt so
good. Then, without thrusting in and out of me, just buried deep
inside me, he started to....flex (is that the right word?) his cock
inside me. It was this subtle but deep feeling that was so amazing.
And I was already all worked up, having bounced up and down on his
dick and maybe having even cum once already. (usually after my first
orgasm, it just makes me want more, more, more) So here I was,
sitting completely still on him. I think he had his hands around me,
pulling me to him somewhere on my body; neck, hips, tits, hair, et
cetera, or some combination thereof. And with us almost completely
still, his cock just throbbing up and down inside me made me cum so
intensely, I think he even had to put his hand over my mouth to muffle
my noises of happiness.

I have run out of time to write today. I haven't gotten to the
pinnacle of my freakiness yet. I guess it will have to wait for
tomorrow or perhaps Monday....

Sex, Lies & Video

2011-03-23T14:59:00.000-04:00

Sex with my Master is unlike any other I've ever had. I'm very carefully learning how to talk about my past and not ...um...upset Mr. G (I get it, I'm his toy. He doesn't want to know that anyone else has ever played with his toy). But let me just say I'm not new to the having of sex. But when he and I have actual intercourse, it's so different for me. (Why do I hear Madonna singing in my head?)

It's just that he holds me down so completely while he's fucking me. And he fucks me to perfection. He possesses me by just physically dominating my body with his. I feel so absolutely covered by him and his body, so...owned. He takes complete control when he fucks me, using me for his pleasure, but also making me feel like I am so totally his slut. His, period. He says amazingly filthy things to me (sadly, I pretty much can never remember the amazing things he says while he's fucking me and I'm cumming and cumming and cumming. i always ask permission for each orgasm and he says i can cum and he definitely says "good girl" and such, but dammit, it's too vague to describe otherwise.) He fucks my body so properly, if I was a poet, I'd write sonnets about it.

And if there's a synapse even firing upstairs, my incoherent thought would be something like “ohmygodthatssofuckinggoodthankyousirwowohmygod” He sends me to this place where I can't speak, can barely move, and am almost like blissfully semi-conscious. Don't get me wrong, I know how my blog sounds. I was making fun of myself to Mr. G last night on the phone. I just go on and on about how amazing he is and how wonderful he is and so perfect and I'm so lucky. I hear how chirpy and annoying some of this sounds. And rereading things I write does sometimes make me sort of roll my eyes at myself or think I sound totally gaga for Mr. G, like a schoolgirl. But I swear I'm not sensationalizing. I don't stretch the truth or try to amp up my blog by filling my stories with exaggerations. I just write it how I remember it. And thankfully, Mr. G encouraged me to take notes so I don't forget all the things I want to write about.

The reference to lies in my title is one of my least favorite things about being my Master's girl. I hate lying to everyone I know. I'm getting better at it, but am still really awful. And I didn't even get my cover story together, explaining where I was last week, to have any details to give. So when my sister made conversation with me, asking where I stayed and whatnot, I sounded like a total moron. Hopefully, she was distracted enough to not hear the panic in my badly told lies.

And I also learned a valuable lesson that I really need to learn to keep my fucking mouth shut. Sitting in court Monday morning, the judge was an overly friendly sort. So I was making small talk with him (I loathe small talk) and I said I was on vacation last week. He asks, "where'd you go?" And then, here I am, in court, lying to a judge. I mean, obviously, I wasn't under oath, wasn't testifying, wasn't on the record. But seriously?! I have GOT to remember to button it up more!

The video. Oh, the video. No photographs were taken this trip (boo! I always want them after the fact, even if I am horrified when they are taken) But Mr. G took some video of me worshipping his cock. He thoughtfully let me be dressed and thankfully made the video early enough in the night that my makeup was decent and my hair was recently coifed. I'm just afraid it's too tame, too mild. The cocksucking I gave him later on that night was so intense, so loud, so slurpy, so much more of everything. Even Mr. G admitted to wanting to stop mid-flow to memorialize it. But I will wait to criticize my performance until after I've seen the video. So on the plus side, on the video, I know at least I'm not naked, makeup askew, or vomiting.

The Different Ways His Dick Goes into my Mouth

2011-03-22T14:58:00.000-04:00

I'm sure I've said this before and I will say it again. I love worshiping my Master's cock. I don't exaggerate when I say I think he would bore or tire of me giving him head long before I ever would. I fantasize about this probably twice as much as anything else when I'm allowed to have a play. Don't get me wrong, I freaking love the way he fucks my pussy. At one point, after he'd held me down and fucked me silly, I've been told I said something to the effect of "I'm going to die" because I'd cum so many times and my heart was going to explode. I don't recall saying such things, but I don't doubt that I did.

And Mr. G lets me worship his cock. He even let me put it in my mouth before he was totally hard (mind you, this is after at least two days of such activities. The first day or two, whenever I was allowed to see/touch his cock, it was already in its happily erect state) and suck him like that. Although, I think limp dicks in a porno is one of the biggest turn-offs, being allowed to start from scratch, so to speak, was such a treat. I love giving him pleasure with my mouth. I love when he just sits back and relaxes and enjoys the show of me worshipping his cock with my hands and mouth. I love the noises of moans and slurps and gags and heavy breathing. I love learning how to please him best, listening and gauging his reactions as to how to touch and suck him just the way he likes. He isn't one to lavish compliments on a person (I think he's afraid he'll spoil me and I'll turn into a lazy bitch) but he said he rather enjoyed my blowjobs and that I was "very enthusiastic" in my technique.

I have already described the other manner in which he uses my mouth in my blog entitled Throat Raping and Other Romantic Gestures. I'd just like to say that there was this thing he did, where he held the top of my head with one hand and had his other under my chin, holding my mouth in place and just fucking me like that, that really was fantastic. God, I love when he abuses my mouth and really just gags me and controls when I get my next breath of fresh air. He even once pinched my nose shut for a second and I think my panties burst into flames. Now you can understand the multiple changes in the undergarment department.

And I will share one of my alluded to never-befores. This is the "ugh" one. It was one of my greatest fears (others being farting, pooping, or snoring/drooling in front of Mr. G). And it was one he and I had addressed on multiple occasions. There's been times when I've been putting on a show for him on camera before, gagging on a toy and really being slutty, when I've come close. And he's always been cool about it, complimentary even. Saying it just proves how hard I try to please him. He has always said he'd just continue doing what he was doing unfazed. Thankfully, he was true to his word.

Yes, my mouth filled with barf and I barely contained it from spewing out all over the place. I had gagged on him so many times, my gag reflex was in high gear and I just pushed it one time too many. He even let me stop for a second, get a sip of water and clear my throat before I continued. Never once did he say "GROSS" which is what I was thinking with horror. And it didn't stop him from going right back to it, using me as his whore until I drank every drop. Which is one of my favorite things, as well. I love how after he cums, he really lets me suck him dry, keeping his cock in my mouth as long as possible. I look forward to the next time I get to worship at my temple, which is his body.

Postscript to Blog

I'd just like to add that I don't mean to say Master never compliments me. He's called me gorgeous. Looked down at me kneeling and said the word "gorgeous". That blows me away. I've definitely heard cute or maybe even sexy, but gorgeous really goes all the way through me. What an incredible compliment. He also almost always says I look nice when I've taken an effort (hair, makeup, etc) to look good for him.

I will say, too, that he peppers all pleasure and niceties with pain and taunting. His nicknames for me include crusty, depression girl, nervous nelly, and a combination of doomsday and my last name. This is how much I know that he loves me.

The Girl with the Crappy Rose Tattoo

2011-03-21T18:54:00.001-04:00

I've been reading the Stieg Larsson books and came across a couple of
passages that were so incredibly on point in my life, that it's almost
eerie. I love when a book or a song encapsulates my own thoughts or
feelings better than I can. This is from The Girl who Played with
Fire. It says:

“The only person who understood her passion for sex with B (her lover)
was her husband and he understood it because she dared to discuss her
needs with him. It was not a matter of infidelity, but of desire.”

“It was not that her sex life with her husband was boring or
unsatisfying. It was just that B gave her a completely different
experience.”

“She could not do without either of them, and she had no intention of
choosing between them. And this was what her husband understood, that
she had a need beyond what he could offer her.”

But now for the good stuff. First off, I have to say, I was pretty
impressed with myself. It's real easy to say, "oh, it's all about you
cumming, sir." (1st and foremost, but thank the little baby jesus, my
Master always takes care of me when I'm visiting). And then, in
person beg and whine and pout after he's used my mouth and not so much
as given my body an iota of pleasure (unless you count the actual
using of my mouth by him. Which is so unbelievably pleasurable for
me, I do count it.)

At least on three occasions, I had to go to the bathroom to change my
panties after he'd fucked and used my mouth. I was so wet and I really
didn't want to get a rash or something from sitting around in wet
bottoms. And minus moans and over-the-top reactions (think
13-year-old male). Mr. G's teasing of me afterward while we were
watching a movie or doing something vanilla, when he'd elicit a moan
or gyration or some other incredibly lady-like reaction, he'd ask me
"you all right?" and I'd try my damnedest to just smile and not say
anything begrudging him the fact that he likes to drive me right to
the brink of insanity (that need to cum, so beyond words, writhing
like a possessed woman; the feeling of being completely out of control
and at his whim and mercy).

I'm happy to say that I'm such a lucky slave, in that my Master truly
always takes care of my body, my seemingly bottomless pit of need, and
aching for fulfillment with serious fireworks-finale type orgasms.
More in-depth blogging is forthcoming, regarding both my cumming and
my Master's amazing talent at skull-fucking me while slapping me on
the face and tits. Feeling pain for him while simultaneously giving
him pleasure definitely makes it into the top five of my favorite
things this trip.

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

2011-03-20T15:44:00.002-04:00

I am home from my second trip to see my Master. Yet again, another whirlwind and dream-like experience. And this time, I even navigated from the airport, onto a train, and into a cab to get to my hotel (and the reverse to get back to the airport.) Having had a car at my disposal since I was 16, public transportation has never been something I've had to learn. And doing all this in a foreign country (yes, they speak English, but still!) was very daunting and definitely gave me some worry. And I am happy to report that all of that was completely hassle-free. Although, I will say the fucking cab driver that took me from the train station to the hotel charged me more than the kind cab driver who took me back to the station four days later. I'm sure, with my American accent and deer in the headlights look after being up for over 24 hours, I was an easy mark.

And this trip, at Mr. G's suggestion, I made a few notes for myself so that when I sat down to blog after the trip, I'd have a few things to trigger my memory. And what amazing memories I have. I know that it's not real life. He and I even discussed it. When we're together, there's no work, no kids, no bills or household chores. It's just us. And it's so amazing. I feel so incredibly lucky to have the home life I have and also get to go live out this dream/fantasy with Mr. G. If it wasn't totally creepy, I'd send his wife a thank you card. My T knows how thankful I am and this trip worked out well for him, as well. He was able to have his Mistress come and spend some time here with him. So it was a win/win for both of us. And yet again, alleviated any guilt I might have about leaving him to fend for himself, while I go and have a stupid amount of fun. Instead, we both got to have our cakes and eat them too, so to speak.

But my poor Master. He has been recovering from one of those awful lingering illnesses that just saps your energy, clogs up your nose and makes you feel mostly bleh. He was probably only at best at 80% my entire trip (and one night, probably closer to 65%). But he's such a trooper. He still made so much time for me, bruised me, fucked me, used me so perfectly. But how frustrating is that? We get to spend four days together for the first time in four months and he's sickie?! Ah, such is life. We still, you can be certain, made the most of it. And even when I could see from his eyes that he wasn't quite feeling up to snuff, he never once complained or went home early to sleep or made me feel like I was probably not helping his healing process by sapping all his energy or cutting into his precious sleep time.

And talk about sleep time! When he wasn't with me, I took the opportunity to sleep and sleep and sleep. I'd wake up, go pee, get a drink and just lay back down for another hour (or three) of lazy, decadent sleep. And one morning, realizing that at some point, I was going to have to be up early enough for housekeeping to come tidy up, I got up, went and got a bite to eat, walked around town for a while, came back to the room, took my clothes off and went back to sleep! I think with all the extra sleep I had last week, I might have taken like five years of wrinkles off my face. (maybe it's just me, but the less sleep I get, the more I look in the mirror and visibly see myself aging)

And I have to say, I'm not just saying this to keep any of my readers hanging in suspense (maybe a little) but I have a couple of stories to tell that are seriously intense!!! I can think of three things (two unbelievably amazing and one...ugh...gross!) that happened that have never happened before!! And one of these amazing story-worthy happenings actually occurred TWICE. So with that, I will just say, check back in the days to come. I promise to write in fantastically filthy detail those three experiences as well as other fun, silly and sexy tidbits from my visit.

Calmness in Chaos

2011-03-08T13:33:00.002-05:00

I am just fine. Calm even. I am a monk sitting peacefully on a
mountain, looking out at the world completely at ease. Or I'm running
around like a chicken with my head cut off, laughing maniacally and
completely out of my mind. Really, I'm somewhere in between,
vacillating between the two. Luckily, I'm closer to the monk than the
headless chicken.

And I got some very fantastic news last night. My in-laws want to
have the offspring next week! This is *such* a huge relief for me.
It's not that I don't think t can handle it all, it's just that this
was the source of a great deal of guilt for me. I don't feel guilty
as a wife, going to spend four days with another man. I won't let
myself feel badly about this, because this is the arrangement we have
made as husband and wife and this arrangement is acceptable to t. The
guilt I felt was leaving him to single parent while I went off and had
a great and relaxing time. I felt guilt to little one, too (I always
feel guilt as a working mother) because she deserves better than an
overworked, stressed out single dad. So instead, now she gets to go
play with her cousins and get spoiled by her grandparents. And t and
I both get a break from parenting for a few days (which I personally
think always recharges my mommy batteries). What a win/win situation.

Now, I have to go pretend to be a professional for about eight hours.
There are certainly some days that I'm glad my job can be so
all-consuming. It certainly makes the hours fly for me. The less
time I have in my own head, lost in thought the better right now.

I am Mrs. Smith

2011-03-06T19:56:00.000-05:00

I had a successful weekend with my sister. I felt like I was very
cool. I just kept picturing Angelina Jolie from Mr. and Mrs. Smith
and thinking I am Mrs. Smith. I can do this. I am cool, calm, and
collected. And I didn't even raise her suspicions (as far as I can
tell. I'll have to peek at her blog in the next few days to see if
she says anything about me or her visit.)

There was only one time I was a bit cheeky (as Mr. G would say). And
even then, I'm sure she thought I was just joking. She was saying how
her husband would understand if she slept with Kid Rock, he was her
one-time freebie. And I said, "oh, I've already used mine." and she
was like "what???!!" and I said "just kidding" and we all had a
chuckle. And t just gave me a look like....you're so funny
(sarcastically)

Now I have one week before my trip. Wow. One week. It's already
starting to feel surreal. I have the joyous benefit of my in-laws
being here next weekend, too. So I get to be Mrs. Smith all over
again. So instead of obsessing about packing and thinking and
overthinking about every aspect of my travel, I get to make up a lie
of where I'll be (trip for work) and try not to bring my passport or
British pounds out in front of company. I do adore my in-laws and
hopefully their visit will actually be the perfect distraction for me.

So this month is Q&A month on all the blogs I read. And I have never
commented back on any of my commenters. Which (I believe) has led me
to not have any more comments. The reason I've never responded to any
of my comments is that I am not allowed to communicate with other
Dominants. So instead of only commenting back on submissive's (or
nondominant's) comments, I just never responded to anyone. But I love
more than anything to answer questions. So....if there's any reader
questions, I would be thrilled to answer them. I am actually a total dork
and obsessed with my readership, even though I have never spoken of it
before. I write because I love to write. But really, being read by anyone
(even just Mr. G and Ms. T) is a thrill to me. My dorkiness goes so far
as having a spreadsheet with all the countries that have visited my blog.
Yes, I am that big of a nerd. So, please, ask away.

Livin' on the Edge

2011-03-03T20:19:00.001-05:00

Let me preface this blog with this. I have in the last few days had
two different people tell me how happy I look. And one of them was a
nurse at my doctor's office, so one might even classify that as my
condition. Happy. And really and truly, I am.

But....and here's the fun part. I'm a damn nutjob. I have been
having to work SO hard the last few days to not get completely lost in
my head with things that are never going to happen (and getting myself
stressed out about it). Luckily, my Master is very used to my
flipping from completely low key (he might argue against that ever
being my state) happy, and content girl to someone who has her head
between her knees, breathing into a paper bag.

And here's why. My trip is coming up so fast. And I *know* my last
trip was so fantastic. But I just neurotically worry about silly
things. And since my last visit was so surreal and I didn't write
enough about it, it's like a fond memory from a book I read or a dream
I had. This makes me thankful that I do have so much contact with
Mr. G. Whenever I speak with him, I remember that it's Him. I worship
Him. He's so funny and charming and sexy. Plus he's like the
neurotic slave whisperer. He always seems to know exactly what I
need, whether it's a hysterical one-liner, a virtual hug in SL (you
might say cheesy, I hear you. but if you know the day I'd had and
then the surprise offer of getting to go chat and hang with my Master
and he greets me with this huge bear hug, it actually brought tears to
my eyes, it was so what I needed at that moment)

So it's not my trip that has me so on edge, And let me tell you, I'm
jumpier than a cat in a roomful of rocking chairs. My sister is
coming to visit today. And don't get me wrong, I love my sister and
we are (were?) extremely close. Keeping such a huge secret from her
as Mr. G has made me feel so many emotions. And yet, I keep it from
her for her own good. I don't want to ruin the closeness that we
still have. And I certainly don't want to ruin her good natured and
comfortable relationship she has with t. So not letting myself be
all giddy and silly and relaxed is going to have to be my modus
operandi. I'm just such an open book. When I get off the phone with
Mr. G, I look like a 15-year-old, starry eyed and goofy most of the
time. And I'm not meaning to say that this gaga-ness is strictly from
dirty talk. No, siree. Master is just generous enough (*cough*) with
talking filth to me and doling out orgasms. Most of the time, it's
because I've just laughed my ass off and I have that giggly, flushed
face feeling. I'm going to either not talk to him at all over the
next few days (god, no, please?!) or try to learn composure. I'm an
adult. I can do this! Right?

And my sister is a detective. She's known me the closest and the
longest of any other human being on this planet. She also happens to
love me and want me happy and all that. So I'm sure seeing me happy
is going to make her happy. And also make her more into detective
mode of what's up. Why is my sister so happy? Maybe I'm reading too
much into it. T says I'm basically normal around his family, so maybe
I'm putting too much pressure on myself for her visit.

Really, she's just coming here to go to the Kid Rock concert with me
and to see her niece. Plus, my sister loves talking on the phone and
won't be following me around like a hawk. I'm sure everything will be
fantastic and I'm just crazy girl who's had a little too much coffee
today.

I also have to give credit where credit is due. My t is such a great partner.
He's my sub buddy and we are so very alike. He is very very good at talking me back from the edge all the time. I will say we are very good support for one another. And he will also cover for me so I can have some phone time, I'm sure. I'm so lucky.

And anyway, only 10 days and I'm on a plane to see Mr. G. Thinking
about kneeling and looking up at him adoringly is my zen, happy place.
I picture that and just breathe...

The Zen of Slavery

2011-02-20T22:38:00.000-05:00

Some days it seems as though the universe is against me. Today was one of those days. Even though T thoughtfully let me sleep in, I felt like I woke up on the wrong side of the bed and it went downhill from there. Nothing major, just the little things that wear you down and make you feel 100 years old. And my offspring and I had a battle of wits all weekend long and I hate to admit it, but she won.

I don't even remember how I used to deal with these kinds of days before Mr. G. Maybe I just huffed around more, or drank more alcohol, or ate more junk food. Today, I knelt. About five different times today, I took a moment, hid myself in my closet and knelt.

It's funny because on Oprah the other day they were talking about the amazing health benefits of meditating. And let me tell you, I've *tried* meditating. I love the idea of lowering my blood pressure and all the other major physiological things that supposedly happen when you meditate. But I've never been able to just sit quietly for even just a moment or two. I feel stupid or like I have a million and one things on my to-do list, stopping in the middle of my busy life and meditating just wasn't something that happened.

But now, I guess I do. It's not meditating, though. It's kneeling for my Master. I feel myself at the breaking point, where I'm about to go all Mommy Dearest and *really* teach that little demon spawn a lesson (I'm kidding. I don't strike my child, the strongest discipline I give is time out) I go and I kneel for my Master. I don't think. I breathe and try to imagine myself presenting prettily to him. So I don't call it meditating, but really, it is a meditation of sorts and I always feel more centered and less on edge afterward.

It's amazing all the things I've learned in the last seven months. This, I think, is one of the biggest.

I Know This For Sure Today

2011-02-17T19:31:00.000-05:00

My blog is boring me so I'm changing it up today.

My Master gets more total and complete control over me by exercising it less often. Now when he talks to me in his Dom voice, I have an even more intense reaction.

Just like my (thankfully, enough to keep me sane) allotment of orgasms. I now treasure them. I don't run off and immediately diddle until I'm screaming like I used to when I was given permission for a play. Now, I have mental foreplay with myself for a few hours first. The anticipation of getting to cum is amazing in itself!

Running hurts but burns a lot of calories.

I have decided I'm not a masochist. I crave satisfying my Master, the man I worship, who just so happens to be a sadist. So I yearn to give him whatever it is he needs.

I worry that my pain tolerance is going to be lower than my last visit, and I'm going to disappoint Mr. G. And when I speak to him of my concerns he always reminds me that he'll enjoy it either way. It's very comforting really. He expects me to hurt and cry and beg. I don't have to be brave, just obedient.

I just wish I was more creative at photos/videos. I need a camera person (just kidding, Master). I ache to give my Master good visual stimulus. And yet my body issues prevent me from wholeheartedly throwing myself into this endeavor. It's very frustrating.

Um...

2011-02-15T18:36:00.000-05:00

There are times I am rendered speechless. Don't get me wrong, it doesn't happen often. I am too often very loquacious. There are certain people in my world that I could talk with nonstop from now until the end of time and we'd never run out of things to talk about.

And I honestly don't even know anymore if it's some form of subspace or if i just get so turned on, the blood rushes out of my brain and into my nether region and I can't think. And I don't even just mean when Master lets loose with filthy words and thoughts and orders. The other day, he was teasing me about something very nonsexual and just having fun poking at me. Then he laughed his sadistic laugh and I was left mute. I went to that foggy place that his control takes me. And here I am, being teased for being a cabbage, and I can't even speak. All I can do is breathe into the phone and eventually giggle like a moronic schoolgirl. Luckily, Mr. G has seen me go to the foggy, can't talk or sound like Minnie Mouse when I do place enough times that me just grunting like "can't talk" and he knows he's pressed my slave button so hard I'm practically a zombie.

Which might even be what Master was teasing me about when I spaced out on him. He keeps um...jokingly (I hope!) teasing me about us watching zombie movies on my next visit. I really do hope he's just messing with my head. I don't watch scary movies. Haven't since "The Blair Witch" and "The Ring" scared me to my core and I slept with the light on in my bedroom for over a year. I am afraid of the dark. I have an overactive imagination. Watching scary movies is detrimental to my health. You *are* just teasing, right, sir?

So I wonder, what is that? That dreamy, foggy place where there's always something right on the tip of my tongue but I feel like I've been wiped clean and I find myself consciously unconscious. I'm pretty sure that's subspace. Right? And lots of times, my next reaction is wanting to be naked and crawling. It usually takes me a bit to pull myself back together. My only previous experiences with subspace and talking with others about it really only focused on the play aspect of subspace. Like when you're tied up, gagged, blindfolded and like hurt then fucked. That kinda subspace is completely understandable.

Master just mentally pushing my buttons and sending me off into subspace is truly amazing to me. I guess it's silly that I'm so in awe of this. It's been seven months since I became Mr. G's. He's always launched me by talking filthy to me (he brings dirty talk to a new level) or speaking in a commanding way, using his Dom voice or something similar. And now it's fascinating to me, how his power grows and I go to that slave place from simply a sadistic chuckle.

Sir, yes, Sir

2011-02-09T14:52:00.000-05:00

I love Eminen's song “I'm a Soldier”. It makes me want to run and punch and kick ass. And I really identify with this today. I was thinking earlier how I often transition from poor me sad slave, horny depression girl to a more motivated, more militant slave.

It's like the dormant drill instructor in my head wakes up and he's totally Full Metal Jacket in my face and he screams “what'dyou think life is? Orgasms and champagne? Get over yourself!” I really like when my own inner motivator wakes up and gets me back in line. Master deserves more than a self-indulgent bratty slave. Luckily, I only have short, almost unremarkable pity parties. And thankfully, I get over myself pretty quickly.

Plus, there's a Biggest Loser type competition beginning this Friday at my office. There's 14 weeks of weigh-ins and then cash or prizes but mostly the bragging rights. And I felt my competitive side really
want to kick ass and take names. I have been losing but I know I can do better and this is exactly the kind of motivation I needed.

Have to keep this blog short. I've got to go work out!

Me So Horny

2011-02-08T22:37:00.000-05:00

Yes, I know. This is a shocking revelation to anyone who has read more than one blog of mine. I also have been listening to a lot of late 90's, early 2000's rap and hip hop. This all feeds into my mental state of mind, though. I remember listening to "Put Her In the Buck" and the noises that the girl is making in the background used to make me want to touch myself right then and there. I have had a lifetime of probably too many orgasms. I don't exaggerate when I say I used to masturbate pretty much every single day, sometimes more than once. And usually my plays don't consist of one quick orgasm, then back to work or whatever. I usually would give myself a minimum of four, up to as many as EIGHT orgasms in a day.

And I know that orgasm control is so much a part of it for my Master. He likes to decide when and if his slut gets to cum. And I was a bad girl Saturday night. I was disobedient and stupid and got in trouble. I really do wonder if I just acted out to get a punishment. I hope that wasn't my true motivation. I do really pride myself on wanting to be a good girl. I want nothing more than to make Mr. G proud to call me his. But I do crave the Dominance part of him so much. I am very very lucky in that we get to have regular contact (more than you'd think, really, living two continents and five clock hours apart). But minus the following of his rules, which is an everyday thing for me now, sometimes I don't get to hear his Dom voice for days and days and days. And I crave that as much as I crave serving him with my body. Maybe even more so. I can't think of any other reason why I did exactly the opposite of what my Master had said except that I had a bratty, selfish moment. And now I'm being punished.

No orgasms until further notice. Part of it that makes me crazy is the not knowing for how long. I so rarely get punished, I never really know what to expect.

So I am wearing clothespins on my nipples right now because my need is so great, my craving so intense, that pain is helping slightly to fill that ache. The best part is, I have them on under my bra, under my sweater. So they are pinching and wrenching my nipples sideways in a fantastically uncomfortable way. It's bringing a smile to my face as I type this. I need to hurt for him. I need to be used by him. I need to hear him call me his whore, his dirty girl. When I get like this, I go darker and darker places. I want him to spank me until I cry. I want to feel his teeth biting at me so hard that it leaves imprints for hours, maybe bruises after. I want to hear his sadistic laugh and know my body is his to abuse in whatever dirty, slutty, whorish way he wants. I go to that place sometimes in needing, in craving, where I fear I would do anything he asked, without a second thought. I'm thankful I have a trustworthy Master. It's a seriously scary thing even admitting that. And luckily, our kinks match up very well and there's only a few things that he's threatened me with that did anything except make me moan and turn into a mouth-breather.

I wish working out helped this need to be pillaged. It doesn't, sadly. And since I've been his good slave and have faithfully been keeping my food/exercise journal, I can't even go eat my sorrows away in a big fat chocolate cake. So no cumming, no food orgy, another MONTH before I get to see him. Wow. I might need more clothespins.

What a horribly vicious cycle. I want some Masterly attention from him so I act out. Only to get orgasms taken away from me. Which makes me needy, short-tempered, snarky, and bratty. Damn it. My Master deserves a better slave. I really do wish sometimes I could dampen my wants, my yearning, my needing some of Mr.G so much. And when I tell him this, he always says "you need to learn to love me/need me more" or something else that just makes me laugh and love him more. And I have to say I have been so much better about keeping an even keel on the days we don't have much contact. I try to be fun vanilla me when he's otherwise occupied and I think I've gotten much better at it. And I have whole hours, afternoons, days even, where my vanilla happiness is more than enough.

But then the slave, slut, girl who needs his abuse just gets more and more restless. And when I let myself think about him, us together, it's all about throat raping, ass-fucking, hurting for him. I crave helping him cum more than even my own orgasm. I want to bring him pleasure, either sexual pleasure with my mouth and other holes or sadistic pleasure, by being the object he so enjoys to torture. And now, I feel a little lighter having typed this. I think I'm going to go and put as many clothespins on my body as I can find and then smack them off one by one.

I am a masochist?

2011-02-04T13:59:00.002-05:00

I can't get my head around this. I am starting to really think I might be a masochist. (is there a quiz somewhere at like the BDSM version of the Oprah magazine?) I have always merely considered myself submissive. And then, more recently have identified myself as a slave. I have just never really even considered that I'm a masochist. And maybe I'm not. Maybe it's truly just my inherent need to serve, to fulfill his desires. But I have found myself more and more lately craving him hurting me, marking me, making me sore and worn out.

I think my problem with the word masochist is because, to me, it evokes visions of needles, or emotional abuse (I am so not an emotional masochist), both of which make me feel a little queasy. See, that's all baggage from my past. Before I discovered the wonderful world of bdsm, I used to always fall for the bad boy, the alpha male, the possessive, jealous, mindfucking dirt bag. I didn't realize I was a submissive (slave) seeking out her Master. So instead, I bumbled along and dated some serious headcases. As I evolved and matured, I turned into a woman who would rather be alone than be with someone who is alpha and controlling and sadistic and out to destroy me.

So then I discovered this safe haven of bdsm. I completely identified and was enamored with the d/s part of the bdsm realm. I love the b/d part, as well. And although when I was single, I toyed a bit with some sadists, really, that didn't appeal to me. And I was afraid it was too easy for me to fall back into my old pattern of the type of men I was attracted to.

Fast forward to now. I find many times lately instead of thinking of the sex or even the loving cuddles, I think a lot about needing to hurt for him. Taking whatever he has to give in any form; spanking, biting, slapping, pinching. I guess it's because I feel safe enough as his girl, who is loved and cherished as his slave that I can go to these darker corners of my fantasies. I find wanting pain more than I'm even wanting pleasure. I crave seeing that look of pure intensity on his face and hearing his sadistic chuckle.

I guess even someone who is completely at ease with being considered a masochist doesn't stub their toe and moan in ecstasy. But when Master said to me the other day how he can't wait to mark my body again, it touched me in such a primal need, making me want that more than air or sex or chocolate. And how I know it's a good sadist in him? My litmus test of sorts is how I feel after he's been sadistic to me. And always, I feel good about myself, even if humbled or made to feel more submissive, I never ever feel that icky bad about myself feeling that you get when dealing with a not-so-controlled sadist.

It scares the hell out of me, too. That I love a sadist. That I trust my heart and my world to a sadist. Luckily, Mr.G is very controlled and also a very loving Master. But it doesn't go unnoticed how I usually loathe being teased or laughed at. But I love to hear his sadistic chuckle so much, times when he's teasing me or poking a bit of fun, I don't go to my defensive and therefore witty sharp comeback girl place. Instead I feel a little....humbled, put in my place. Hearing his sadistic laugh brings out something in me I don't think I knew I had.

Upon looking at my favorite dictionary site online, I found a few widely ranging definitions for masochist. Macmillan says: someone who gets sexual pleasure from being hurt. (well, I do get soaking wet when he spanks me) Merriam-Webster says: 1. a sexual perversion characterized by pleasure in being subjected to pain or humiliation especially by a love object, or 2, pleasure in being abused or dominated; a taste for suffering. (this one is so far all over the place. what exactly is a "love object? and I'm pretty positive I don't like suffering).

Then I stumbled upon this definition, on dictionary.com. It says: 1. (psychiatry) the condition in which sexual gratification depends on suffering, physical pain, and humiliation. 2. gratification gained from pain, deprivation, degradation, etc., inflicted or imposed on oneself, either as a result of one's own actions or the actions of others, especially the tendency to seek this form of gratification. 3. the act of turning one's destructive tendencies inward or upon oneself. 4. the tendency to find pleasure in self-denial, submissiveness, etc. (oh, so masochism is a psychological condition? and i always turn my destructive tendencies inward. And I *do* find pleasure in submissiveness and more specifically, serving a sometimes sadistic Master.)

So I end this blog back right back where I started. Am I a masochist?

When Normal and Perverse Happen Simultaneously

2011-02-02T16:56:00.000-05:00

As I've said before, I love dichotomy. I love something going on that's unseen or unknown to anyone around but my Master and myself. Something happened the other night that I just have to write about. I find that I mostly want to blog when I have something slutty to say. So, I guess I'm resigned to the fact that my blog is not filled with thought-provoking intelligent BDSM discussions. And more so just filled with the smut that permeates my brain. I don't even know if I love to blog about it so much because I want to brag about my Master and our super hot experiences or if it's because I want to relive and memorialize it through my writing. Either way, I write when the muse strikes.

The whole situation the other night was such an ultimate fantasy type thing for me. I will explain. I have a fairly common submissive's fantasy. I love the whole being naked while He's completely dressed thing. The very obvious demonstration of him completely in control, almost seeming bored by it all. And then there's me, wanting to cum, begging to cum, caring about nothing other than my throbbing pussy, my too-hard nipples, wanting/needing to be fucked and used. Meanwhile, he's talking to me on the phone and he's grocery shopping.

Damn, I'm getting ahead of myself again. Always getting straight to the wanting/begging to cum. I know one thing that's becoming abundantly clear to me is that I'm an orgasm-addict. I have to struggle to keep myself from begging every single day to have a play. I know he's limiting my orgasms because he can. And I hate to admit it, but when I'm cumming less, I certainly do appreciate them more. I just get to an I-hate-the-world-you-can-all-piss-off place pretty intensely when it's been a few days. But I've really been working hard to get past my own selfish needs and swallow down the hornies. Plus, I'm not above begging to cum, explaining how I'm going to die, explode, launch into outer space, etc. And although I won't ever say Master is too generous in this area, I will say that he keeps me sane, yet still under his thumb. And most certainly not the lazy masturbating slut who never had time for much beyond her toy bag that I had occasions of being before I was his.

So here he is, walking around Tesco, grabbing a few groceries. And I can't hold back my inner whore. My inner whore is so insatiable. She'd love to get fucked and spanked and hurt and made to cum so much that the English language no longer exists. But she wants that shit every day! So I don't listen to my inner whore much. But sometimes, I can't contain the need any longer. And I start telling him about my hands and they can't stop touching my body (while I'm at home, in a dark room, in a bed, with comfie clothes on and easy access to all my most needy and whorish places) and he's walking around a brightly-lit grocery store, (obviously) completely dressed and normal-seeming, just talking to me like we're talking about the weather.

And we were talking about something, which obviously has slipped my mind. But every few minutes I'd tell him how I couldn't keep my hands out of my panties. And I couldn't stop running my hands over my rock hard nipples. I was just teasing myself and making myself crazy. I'd just blogged about how I kinda lose my mojo when I go so very long without cumming with/for him. So he knew how desperate I was for that kind of connection.

And at the same time, I was trying so hard not to cross the line if he just wanted me to tease myself and nothing more than that. He's walking around the store, "oh, look diet coke is on sale." And he'd said I could touch myself, maybe even said I could fuck myself with my fingers (actually, I know he must've, there's no way I'd do this without permission). I get so foggy when I'm just full-on in the slutty moment, I can't tell you what/how it was said. But beyond just teasing myself and being so lost in that, I'm also thinking about his sadistic side. And I truly wasn't sure if he was going to really let me cum. I wouldn't put it past him to let me work myself all up and then be like, "girl, I am in the grocery store. You need to behave" or something equally horrible. And then I would've pouted and tried to not feel psychotic.

So here's the fantasy. I keep trying to get control of myself. He's in a public place, doing a vanilla normal thing and yet here I am, nothing but a needing, begging, panting, fucking myself, rubbing myself, pinching myself sex object. But then I stopped myself, because what the fuck? He's in a grocery store for God's sake, walking around in a public place. I really am nothing but a wanton whore. But I truly couldn't stop myself. And more importantly, he wasn't encouraging me, but wasn't stopping me either! He just continued our talk about whatever it was about (groceries maybe?) And I finally stopped touching myself and said, "I have to stop, I'm going to cum" and that's what he said those most hoped-for words. "I didn't tell you to stop" when I realized. He's actually going to let me cum while he's getting diet coke and milk and snacks!!!!

So I fucked myself into oblivion. I have to say, Mr. G's limiting my orgasms and inner whore like he does makes me appreciate the simple things in life. Like his voice, a dark room and my usually too-short can't quite hit the right spots fingers. When I started to beg to cum and he told me to cum for him, I didn't care what was fucking me, he told me I could cum and that was all I needed to hear. God, I really didn't think I could cum that hard without my toys!! It was so intense, when he was saying "good girl" afterwards, my pussy was clenching my fingers so tight, I was like...hmmm...not letting go. It was like a five-minute orgasm.

The convenient part is, I had time to recover from my earth-shattering o while he checked out. So I could try and regather my thoughts and then I could attempt to be the interesting and entertaining slave my Master deserves while he's at work and running errands instead of an orgasm-addicted junkie who can do nothing more than talk dirty and beg for plays. I wonder if there's an herbal remedy for this addiction....some tea I can drink or bath I can soak in that makes me feel more like most 30-something-year-old married women, instead of the raving nymphomaniac that I tend to be.

Filthy Whore

2011-01-28T14:29:00.000-05:00

Most people would cringe at being called such harsh words. Those are actually two of my favorite words my Master utters. I love the way whore sounds coming out of his mouth. His accent, all that, but just the actual sound of it. He has one of the dirtiest mouths I've ever encountered. (and I don't mean hygiene! I'm happy to say he disproves the British have bad teeth stereotype.) And that's saying something, considering I curse like a sailor. Ever since Eddie Murphy's "Delirious" stand-up routine, I have loved the proper use of swear words. Mr. G actually takes this to a new level for me because of the sexy words factor. But also because the English have their own set of curse words and insult words that are fun and new and different for me. The first time he called me a plonker, I almost peed my pants laughing! A plonker?! That's just fantastic! Or a slag, that word came into my vocabulary from some Bridget Jones type book, but still a favorite. Bell end, ball ache, taking the piss are more of my newly learned phrases that crack me up.

Still the one word that Mr. G says that makes me the happiest, wettest and most touches me deep inside is "mine". I love hearing him use the possessive about me. "My girl" "My whore" makes me feel so special, so wanted. Even if I do or say something less than bright and I'll call myself an idiot, he'll say something like "my idiot" and it makes me laugh and feel better. As a matter of fact, we've been hanging around a little on Second Life and something so silly but that makes me so happy is just that he put "I am His girl" over my avatar in pink for everyone to see.
Since this part of my life has to be secreted away and hidden from 90% of the rest of my life, I love having at least these two places where I am claimed, am owned by Him. I know it sounds silly, but it really does mean a lot.

I used to get to play this game (now it's been ruined because I told him about it and he never willingly plays, dammit. He knows I'm a randy slut, just looking for an excuse to get all heated up) where he starts telling me about something, how he's got to go clean his car, it's so dirty. And I'd try to get him to say a few key words. "How dirty is it, sir? Is it filthy? Really, really dirty?" Now, I tease him and try to play my game but he sees right through it and just laughs at me. It really doesn't take much to amuse me or turn me on and luckily my Master has a good sense of humor.

So here's where my blog gets a little strange. On occasion my Master actually lets me have a play. Here lately, it's solo, without him on the phone or skype or whatever more so than not. Really, it gets hard for me to...I don't want to say get in the mood. I'm always in the mood for an orgasm. I could be sick as hell, barely able to get out of bed and if offered, I'd JUMP at the chance to have a play. But I do try to...make it worth my while. Since my orgasms are doled out like drugs in little paper cups in the psych ward, I try to make them something to last, not knowing when the next play is going to come. But it's hard, being in my own head, trying to picture him, his voice, his body, what he does to my body.
I need to be in his presence so badly, to fill that coffer back up, remind myself what that's like so badly. And so I....watch home movies he's sent me that have him with ex's in them. I know how weird this is.

I'm not an unjealous person. I have my moments. For example, once, snooping on my T's computer when we were dating and he was at work, I ran across naked pictures of his ex. I can never unsee those pictures. That skinny bitch with big natural boobs will forever be burned into my brain and to this DAY it makes me a little ill thinking about them. But yet, Mr. G and these nameless girls who came before me really do the trick for me when I'm about to have a play (I am not a watching porn WHILE I play kinda person. I like to watch a few clips and then go into my head and touch myself sans visual stimuli). I will say that most of the time, I just listen to the audio, because he says a few key phrases that make me melt and drool and want to cum. Even just hearing him breathing hard, that makes me want to get out my toybag and violate my body. Because that's the funny thing, he's not a major talker while the sex stuff is happening. So just hearing his breathing when he's getting close to cumming.....mmmmmm god. That's good stuff. So thank you, nameless dirty girls that preceded me. You have helped me more than you'll ever know!

And here's a happy memory for me and a little bit of fun filth.

To Whom Are You Addressing Those Statements?

2011-01-11T15:54:00.001-05:00

I need to work on my etiquette. I need like a refresher course on how to speak to my Master. It's not that I don't always call him sir or Master. Minus one log I found before I was officially his where I say his first name in a chat, I have never used his first name (or last for that matter). I don't think it's appropriate and I'm sure Master agrees. I don't know if he ever gave this as a rule. I should probably at some point write up my rules and post them here. That does two things, reminds me of my rules and it also shares them with curious people. I know I always have a nosey at other submissive's rules when they share them on their blog.

But back to my snippy or whiny or complain-y tone. What the fuck, man? Seriously. I realize it almost as soon as I've said a disrespectful or snide or inappropriate thing. I need to remind myself sometimes that although we do chat pretty often in a casual banter, I still have to think before I speak. And I really have to think before I knock out a morning email that is full of whine. Thankfully, my Master knows I would never intentionally disrespect him. He also has a good sense of humor, so if I say something funny, he usually finds it funny. Believe me, I know immediately when I've crossed the line of good slave to...mouthy slave. But as surprised as I am to type this, it doesn't really happen often.

The lawyer in me really wants to point out this morning's email request, even though the tone and wording of the email was completely unacceptable, had value in that....I was raised in a family and now live in a family where we say goodnight. Every. Night. I know not everyone does this. And theoretically, Mr. G isn't a part of my family. I just think about him before bed every night and usually almost immediately when my eyes open in the morning. I could've thought of a much nicer way to tell my Master this, though. And that is the point to this blog.

Thank you, sir, for calling me on my slack-ness and also for forgiving me. I promise to remember that although you are someone that is within my tiny inner circle, you are not my friend, my boyfriend or my husband. I don't think I can speak to you sarcastic or whiny and get away with it.
Hopefully, writing this blog will help keep it fresh in my mind. I hate not being a good girl. I really do. Thank you for keeping me in line.

The Fine Art of Polygamy

2011-01-10T18:52:00.002-05:00

After reading two blog posts over at Blog I follow, Bunny Ramblings I feel necessitated to write this. Otherwise, I'd write a ridiculously long comment, because her blog brings up a few things I really want to address. She had talked in the first blog about how she doesn't "get" polygamy and how she feels sad for anyone who can't get everything they want/need from just one person. I felt obliged to comment on the first blog and then after she wrote a second, my comments got much more wordy, so I thought I'd better address it here.

The first thing is that she is right in her assessment of me. I most certainly have not *chosen* poly in and of itself. Yes, what my lifestyle qualifies as, most certainly would fall under polygamy. I wouldn't say inherently that I was "built" for poly. The silly thing is, I really do consider myself a monogamous girl. I try my very hardest to be incredibly dedicated to my husband and my family. And I also try my hardest to be a good girl, a good slave, and just generally make Mr. G proud. When discussing what it is we have, my husband, t has a hard time thinking we're in a polygamous relationship. And t deals with the fact that his Mistress has other submissives, as well. To him, *that* is a polygamous arrangement, not what our marriage is.

You will not ever hear me say having two relationships is easy. I don't think having one monogomous relationship is easy. Let alone a monogamous relationship with kids. Let alone a D/s relationship. But I have to say, we are all pretty good at open communication, and we're all learning as we go. Luckily, both of the men in my life are genuinely amazing men and have good senses of humor and can roll with the punches, so to speak. This wouldn't be nearly as low stress if they weren't adaptive, as well.

With t, you have to understand. It adds SO much to our relationship. He is truly my best sub buddy. We give each other pep talks all the time. When you've fucked up, gotten punished (or worse, are about to) and you feel like shit, who can commiserate more than another subbie that loves you? I feel so lucky to get to share that side with him. I love helping him have his lightbulb moments. Or when I just remind spoiled bratty him (who also reminds spoiled, bratty me) that it's not about t's pleasure or what he wants to do. It's about serving Her and pleasing Her. So I get to, as a best friend, watch t be taken care of and held accountable and really learn and grow as a submissive. I could never give him that. Although, I do at times have a sadistic side, I really don't enjoy dominating him. I love seeing him so fulfilled and happy and taken care of in a way that I don't have it in me to do.

And he and i are close because he listens to me mope when Mr. G and i haven't had much contact and entertains me and completely understands what it's like to be addicted. He also covers for me in the evening when I've spent hours and hours being mommy and just need a few to talk to Mr.G. How can you not love a husband that does that? I try not to be bitchy when our daughter is in Captain Destructo mode and he's finally getting a chance to chat online with his Mistress. It's a give and take, in that respect, as well.

And, well, Mr. G? I have to say he's had to adjust a LOT. He's never had a slave that had a husband. But he knew I did from the moment he met me. There's times I'm not available to him because of familial or work responsibilities. This is when he understands but is not understanding. I know that there's times my relationship or closeness to t might get under Mr. G's skin. I have learned in the last six months that *how* I say things is sometimes more important than what I'm actually saying. And also, Master wants to encourage the health and happiness of my marriage (because the funny part is, He and i wouldn't be so beautiful if we lived together. In Mr. G's own words "we'd kill each other.") And I couldn't let myself worship him the way I do if he didn't have a family of his own. I would never have let myself get so attached to a single man, with no wife or kids. It wouldn't have been fair to t. So I am still working on not being so spoiled and pouty when i have free time, but my Master is busy with his family. And I'm thankful he has an amazing wife and it makes me happy to know he's taken care of and happy at home.

Jealousy and insecurity, I think I'll save for another post as this has turned into a treatise on polygamy...

My E-mail to My Master Last Night (Posted With Permission)

2011-01-09T14:10:00.000-05:00

Sir,
I am being your very good & self-controlled girl and going to sleep instead of staying up til the wee hours of the morning talking to Ms. T. Nights I don't talk late with you I need to get more sleep.

I just had to write this to you. You might even have *that* effect on me more than you ever did. It's kind of like a near-death experience, wanting/needing you seems more intense than ever. I can remember how your hands feel on my throat. I can remember wanting, aching for your cock inside me, in my mouth, my pussy. I can picture your hands both places very distinctively. My ass needs your hot hand prints. I crave pain for you. I don't crave the pain, per se, but the look of sadistic pleasure on your face as you hurt me is enough to drive me to the brink of orgasm. I want to take whatever you want to give, Master. I want to present my body to you for your use and abuse and pleasure more than I have ever wanted to before.

As I type this, I'm kneeling in my closet. I can feel my body just craving your touch, your bite, your pinch, your slap. I want every one of my holes filled with your cock and your cum. I want you to feel like you may not even have another orgasm in you for days, because I have helped you cum so good, so many times in me and on me that the satisfaction lasts for days and days.

I feel my breathing getting harder just thinking about your cock buried in my throat, you deciding when I will get air again. You scare me and thrill me and rule my whole universe with your words, your hands, your cock.
Sorry this sounds artsy. I feel like crawling around naked and just begging you to please let me cum. God, sir, I want to cum for you so badly. So so badly. I love hearing you tell me I can cum and when I do, that I'm a good girl. God just typing that has me moaning, wiggling my hips and feeling my pussy clench with need. God, I need you, sir.

I need to cut this off now before I melt my feet and then my carpet. I love you with every inch of me.
Xoxoxoxoxoxoxo,
Your nonpoetic slave

Confessions of a Recovering Orgasm Addict

2011-01-08T19:23:00.000-05:00

I'll say until I'm blue in the face that my slavery, the slave part of me, what makes me love BDSM and slavery in general is not about the sex. But let's be real. As with most people, my first exposure to anything D/s or BDSM was through sex. At least the first 100 things I read about this alternative lifestyle were works of fiction written as masturbation fodder. Until I really started exploring other ways of showing my submission, that was all I knew.

And recently, with the holidays and being at my in-laws for two weeks (and I adore my in-laws I'm one of the lucky few....but there is almost ZERO privacy there!) and the hustle and bustle of our busy lives and (as Mr. G put it) maybe being a little too complacent, I will admit it. I started getting terribly lax in my slave duties. I stopped doing what I call pro-active submission. That's one of the things I love most about my submitting to my Master. He never orders me to do things (unless it's like the other night on skype when he just said "tits" and I knew it was time to start the show). I do have rules that I must adhere to. But when I am "assigned" a task, it's really more of him saying "I'd really like it if you'd..." or "you could really help me out by..." which makes me even more eager to do it. I love that he doesn't abuse his power by talking to me in his Dom voice all the time. But then again, I love it so very much when he does talk in his Dom voice. And quite frankly, I crave it like a heroin junkie.

I know, I've touched on this before. But in case I haven't explained it thoroughly, what I call his Dom voice is when he talks to me in that way, that Masterly, Masterful, do as I say now kind of way that makes me immediately wet, panting, sometimes moaning and almost completely incapable of speech. Don't get me wrong, this doesn't HAVE to be something sexual that he says. One of the most powerful things he's ever said to me was when I was being too casual over something and said something like "maybe I won't" half teasing and he said "you'll do as you're fucking told" in such a way that there was no doubt in my mind that I'd do as I was told.

So when I booked my ticket for my next trip to see him (holy shit I still can't believe i get to see him again, it's not totally real to me yet) and he flipped the switched, started talking in his Dom voice and saying things he was going to do to me as soon as I was there again, I almost died. It had such an effect on me, it made me start to think more about my theory that he can make me cum without ever touching me. It was so intense, the next day just *thinking* about what he'd said made me almost have to pull my car over because I realized operating an SUV on a toll road, driving 65 miles an hour and going into sub fog isn't a safe thing to do.

And it also lit a fire under my ass to start my food journaling again. And start exercising more. (two requests of his I am guilty of neglecting.) I have nine weeks now to seriously make a difference in this body that I will present to him. And although, he's seen me before, I just want him to want me and treasure me and feel proud of me as his slave like he never has before. Plus, there is such a huge connection in my brain between feeling sexy and being more fit. And his Dom voice, wow, that makes me feel sexy and slutty and dirty. It makes me want to dance on a pole for him or make more movies and take more pictures for him. It makes me want to beg to get to please him, to get to help him cum, to beg for my own orgasms. It brings out the deepest darkest part of me, makes me want pain and pleasure and hunger for him like no other hunger there is.

But more than that, it makes me more conscious again. I'm living more consciously through my slavery. I am more aware of the activities I do throughout the day, not necessarily because I will tell him every mundane thing I've done, seeking his praise. But more because I want to be the good wife, good mommy, good person that then gets rewarded by getting a trip over to England to see him. I know how lucky I am and I want to show it to the people in my life, so they know how treasured they are and how much my happiness pours out of me onto them because of my slavery.

So I will vehemently argue that it's not all about sex for me. I'm actually having less orgasms than I've ever had since I was 12. Mr. G likes to point out how much more productive I am now and I can't argue with that. But what I will say is that feeling that sub fog feeling, feeling wanton and slutty and under his control makes me afterwards want to do laundry and clean the kitchen and pick up the 100's of toys on the floor....and do all of these things with a big smile on my face and a song in my heart. Of course, the song is Nine Inch Nails "Fuck you Like an Animal" so I mostly just sing the lyrics under my breath.

Please, Let Me Serve You

2011-01-07T18:44:00.000-05:00

I haven't been writing a lot lately because of being off on vacation and distracted with life and busy holiday stuff and such. But also, I've been struggling to find my voice and find the proper balance between sharing and privacy. Life's ups and downs and issues that come up make me wish I could write and write all my thoughts and experiences, but the fact that there are other people's lives involved keeps me effectively gagged. (and not in the best way.) If it were just me writing about my thoughts and feelings, I'd be an open book. So I sometimes censor myself so effectively that I don't write a thing at all.

But something that made me feel so good, so submissive, like I have had a medal placed upon my chest that says "World's Best Slave" is such a small thing, I feel silly writing about it. Mr. G and I have a very modern version of a Master/slave relationship. I have my rules that I follow and on occasion he gives me a writing assignment or a task. He knows my life is crazy busy on a good day so he never tries to give me busy work or tasks that don't actually serve a purpose. So when he asks me to do something, I know it's something he genuinely wants done and it feels great doing it for him.

So this silly little thing that was my Mount Everest was....finding "The World's Strongest Man" competition video for Master to watch. I know, it doesn't really sound like much. And I'm a researching and Internet Sherlock Holmes. A good portion of my job is finding the spellings of obscure things and I pride myself on my surfing prowess. So when Mr. G asked me a week or more ago to find this for him, I was like, no problem, I'll have that back to you later. Only to find that of course it's not as easy as just googling it or finding it on Youtube (as it turns it, it is that easy, I just had to keep checking back like a psychopath, every day for over a week!!). I still don't understand how this company doesn't market and sell DVDs.

And Master would tease me, too, about not finding it or wanting to watch it. When I finally found a real link of the actual event and not just highlights, I emailed it to him and felt like I just did something so amazing and important. Even just typing this sounds ridiculous to me, but it's true. When I told him I found and emailed him the link, his "good girl" were two of the most amazing words I've ever heard spoken. I felt like I was on top of the world!

And I know this isn't just me. T was telling me the other day how great it feels to be useful to his Mistress by setting timers for her when she's cooking and needs a timer set. He said it makes him feel so good to be able to do such a little thing for her, knowing it's something she needs done and being able to do it. This feeling of pride and accomplishment is such a rarity in our adult lives. Usually, with work and home committments, the point is that you've done what needed to be done. It was expected and you just move on to the next thing on the to-do list. Hearing Mr. G say he was impressed and that I'd done a good job was such a satisfying feeling. Feeling like you're a good slave when you've just made your Master cum for the 3rd time that day is sort of a given. That is a satisfying feeling of a different sort. Feeling like you're useful or that you contribute to your Master's life in a positive or helpful way is almost a deeper, more meaningful emotion. Even if that just means he can now watch ridiculously beefy men pick up and run with the biggest fucking boulders you can imagine.

'Twas the Night Before Christmas

2010-12-25T08:04:00.000-05:00

I lay beneath the Christmas tree, looking up at all the twinkly lights. I daydream what it would be like to be able to be my Master's present that he can open Christmas morning. My eyes open to see his face inches from mine. His eyes intently stare into mine and I know he possesses every inch of me. I don't make a sound, but my body wiggles in anticipation. His hand smacks my face a little too hard for my liking and I instinctively try to jerk away, only to realize he's pinned me there under the tree and there's no freeing myself.

He leans down to my lips and I feel his mouth ever so gently touch my lips, only to suck my lower lip into his mouth and bite down hard, hurting me and making me cry out. Then his strong hand covers my mouth roughly and he whispers to "shut the fuck up" in his sexy way that only he can, turning me on and shutting me up. Then his hand goes into my mouth, three, four fingers. Enough to stuff my mouth full and gag me. I love having my holes filled and his hand in my mouth is no difference. I can feel the heat and adrenaline rushing through my body and I feel like every nerve in my body is alert and tingling. I feel like there's electricity snapping back and forth from his body to mine and back.

With his hand still stuffed in my mouth he leans down and kisses and bites my neck. He bites just hard enough where I almost think he's going to break my skin but he stops shy of drawing blood. He breathes and moans dirty words in my ear, calling me his, telling me I'm his whore and he's going to use me however he likes. Mostly he just looks at me with those eyes that see through to my soul. This look from him can reduce me to a puddle of drooling, dripping, moaning mess. I try so hard to be still and be quiet but i can't help myself and my hips flex upward to his body, to rub myself against him.

He really doesn't want me to lie still and be perfectly quiet. He never wanted me to be a dead fuck or a blow-up doll or something. He likes it much better when I struggle a bit. So I find myself wanting him so badly, feeling his hand almost thrusting in and out of my mouth and I try to push him off. I start to buck my hips against him, against his hips, trying to throw him from on top of me. That's when the small sadistic smiles breaks out on his face. He slaps my face again with his free hand and pulls his other hand out of my mouth. It finds its way under my Christmas nightie and squeezes my tits roughly, grabbing whole handfuls of boob and just squeezing and hurting me in a way that makes me moan and fight a little harder. But really, what I want is more. Hurt me more. Mark my body with your bruises that will cover me for weeks like your own personal markings, like tattoos that are memories of your hands on my body.

I'm still flat on my back when he grabs me by the legs and slides me out from under the tree. His pants and boxers are down and he straddles my chest, his hard cock inches from my face. I push my head and mouth upward, reaching for what I so deeply desire. I swear to God, I would suck his cock all day every day until he decided he was bored of it (or sore from it) and I would beg him to let me do it more. I beg for it and he teases me, slapping me in the face a bit with his cock and not letting it enter my mouth. I stick my tongue out and reach as hard as I can, trying to lick and suck and knowing he will only let me when he's ready.

Finally his hand reaches down to the back of my head and his other guides his cock right into my mouth. I lick and suck and try to take him all in, but he loves to fuck my mouth and throat, rape it, take it as hard and as fast as he wants. I don't set the pace. I don't get to lovingly worship his cock and lick and kiss and take my time. I'm gagging and sputtering and gasping for breath and he's pumping in and out of my mouth intermittently and then leaving his cock deep in my mouth, deep in my throat, blocking my air and just filling me completely. He knows just when I'm about to panic from lack of air and he pulls out just enough for me to gasp for air and then he thrusts it back in again and out and in, fucking me so roughly, taking my mouth and throat, using me as I was meant to be used, strictly for his pleasure.

I don't even realize it but as he's fucking me and I'm just concentrating on sucking, licking, breathing and doing everything in my power to please him, my hips are thrusting up and my pussy is soaking wet and almost audibly begging for attention. As he's holding his cock deep in my throat again, he reaches behind him into my wet panties and just strokes the outside of my pussy, smiling at how wet he makes me, how intensely my body reacts to his. His smile is quickly gone as the intense look comes back and he takes one of my hands out from under his strong thighs and puts my fingers in my pussy, pushing them hard against it, into it even and I realize I am to play with myself while he uses my mouth.

I fuck my fingers in and out of my pussy and rub my hard, aching clit as he continues to pound my face and abuse my throat. I gag and slurp and moan and suck. I can feel his cock getting even harder and bigger and his thrusts are even harder and more demanding. I really can and have made myself cum in a minute or less and it doesn't take long, with him abusing my mouth and treating me like his slut that I start to feel myself....oh oh oh please i can barely make a sound but I'm begging around his cock. I'm sucking and gagging and begging for permission to cum. He keeps fucking my mouth, in and out, deep, holding it there, then back out, letting me lick and suck and breathe. "Cum for me, whore." he moans in his almost about to cum voice, deep and breathy and sexy.

I feel my body jerk with orgasm, still trying to suck and lick him and keep from gagging too hard as he's fucking my mouth and throat. I'm making moaning, screaming gurgling noises for a good solid minute while he pounds me and squeezes my tits and nipples and hurts me as he lets me feel so good simultaneously. Just as he pulls his cock from my mouth, I'm gasping, trying to catch my breath and feeling the rush of the orgasm slowly leaving me, he whips around and jerks off all over my tits and stomach and thighs, cum dripping down between my legs. I know what he wants and I scoop some up off of my inner thigh and push it inside my still twitching pussy, pushing him and his cum into me, his favorite sex toy.

Merry Christmas, Master. Fuck visions of sugar plums. This is what dances through my head this Christmas Eve.

'Tis the Season

2010-12-21T08:22:00.000-05:00

Be forewarned, this is a mopey depression girl blog. First off, I have to say I'm actually very happy overall. Mr. G is as generous to me as I could ever hope. I've gotten to spend lots of quality phone time with him and we've even been spending fun virtual time together on Second Life. But the holidays bring joy and...well, nostalgia. It brings presents and...feelings of something missing. I'm so happy for my T, she has found a wonderful Mistress and she is back to being my favorite (no offense, Ms. T) subbie buddy. I love sharing that side with T. It's what we do best, lean on one another, be the sounding board that the other needs (and sometimes the voice of reason)

So tonight, after spending a couple of HOURS together on SL, Mr. G went to bed and I was left alone with my busy overthinking mind. So I thought wouldn't it be nice to listen to some Christmas music while I do a little work. So then Sarah McLachlan's Wintersong sneaks up and punches me right in the stomach. I won't quote the lyrics here because I'm sure that's a copyright infringement or something, but I was gay enough to write Mr. G an email quoting them (Freddie Mercury called to tell me just how gay.) Luckily, he's used to my being a silly emotional chick at times and wasn't phased by it.

But it's the holiday spirit. And I'm missing him, even having had lots and lots of him lately. It's the physicality of him that I miss. A hug, a touch, a spank, a nice choke around my neck. (yes, don't worry, being depression girl doesn't make me any less slutty) T reminds me I found him. I chose someone a continent away. And I stand behind that decision 100%. The last five and a half months have been really some of the best of my life. And I know there's only more good things to come (mmmm and cum) in our future. Sometimes I just wish I could lie next to him and listen to him sleep.

The Latest Porn Reel Playing in My Head

2010-12-06T10:38:00.000-05:00

I am a sick bitch. I always have some fantasies rattling around in my head and usually they take on a certain theme. And that will be what I go back to time and time again when my Master allows me to masturbate. My fantasies are just that. Nine times out of ten they are even something I don't think I would enjoy in reality. But that's the fun of fantasies, isn't it?

My most recent fantasy has been a recurring one on and off throughout my life. It has morphed and changed into its latest form just recently. It's more than just a threesome with me, t, and Mr. G. It's more the two of us submitting to him, giving ourselves to him than the more vanilla version of two guys fucking a girl. And in my fantasy, t & i are wearing matching french maid uniforms. It's really more of us two “girls” serving him. There are multiple positions scenarios I have played out in my head (and a few I fucked the hell out of myself to on my closet floor while my in-laws slept peacefully a few doors down the other night.)

So without further ado, here's my latest (and possibly greatest) fantasy:

We both kneel in front of him, side by side, with our mouths open as wide as we can hold them, tongues extended out slightly. Master can then alternate fucking our mouths. Each of us who isn't being used must wait in open anticipation while the other is getting face fucked. While he's fucking t's mouth, I can hear her gagging and trying to suck, watching Master hold t's head there makes me so wet, makes me want my mouth and throat full so badly. I see tears spring to t's eyes, I watch her trying to breathe in quick, shorts bursts as Master pulls his cock out far enough for air to get in but not completely out of her mouth. I see t's hands clenching her thighs as she's struggling to stay in the proper kneeling position and not raise her hands to push him back (to no avail, Mr. G isn't really push-off-able). But t is a good slut and she keeps her hands on her thighs as she's been instructed and Master lets her breathe often enough that her gasps of air in between deep thrusts are enough to keep her from turning blue.

It's hard to just watch and keep my mouth open, but then it's my turn. And he's shoving his cock in and out of my mouth and throat so hard, I'm gagging and choking and trying so hard to suck and lick and take him all in. I feel Mr. G's hands at the back of my head, holding his cock deep in my throat, hear t breathing so hard, I know it's her catching her breath from his rough treatment but it's also from watching me being used so roughly, it's such a turn-on. I know it is for me, watching t's mouth be used and fucked and hearing Mr. G's moans and “good girl” is so intoxicating.

Master's cock is getting so wet from our spit and pre-cum that when he pulls it out of my mouth, it's dripping and I'm unable to get it all into my mouth so I drool down my chin and onto the tops of my breasts. I'm panting and moaning as I watch t struggling to take all of Mr. G's cock. I can't help wiggling a little, it's so fucking hot to see up close. Getting to watch my Master be pleasured and getting to see t being treated so roughly, used so properly, knowing she's loving it as much as I do makes it difficult to kneel in place and keep still.

Then Master pulls his cock out of our mouths and puts my hand in t's panties and t's hand in my panties and we realize we're to make each other cum while we suck. I feel t's hand move into my dripping wet pussy and start moving across my clit and in and out of my swollen pussy lips. I reach into her panties and grab her hard (and dripping) cock in my hand tightly and start rubbing it. Master goes back to the face fucking, fucking t's mouth again. And I watch t sucking so hard her cheeks are sucking in, I hear the sucking noises and feel her cock grow even hard as she's getting her mouth and throat pounded. I'm pumping my hand up and down on t's cock faster now, trying to keep the rhythm of Master pounding in and out of her mouth. I can feel t's fingers in my pussy, but they're barely moving, as she's right on the verge of cumming, her moans and gasps for air getting faster and louder.

Then Master pulls out of her mouth again and comes back to mine. He's deep in his sadistic and very turned on place now. He doesn't just say “good girl” now but also says “suck harder, whore” and “take it deep, you dirty bitch” I feel t's fingers fucking me so hard now, as Mr. G's cock is driving in and out of my mouth. I feel like I'm effectively getting fucked from both ends and I'm on the verge of cumming. I'm gasping and gagging and moaning and can't get out the “please may I cum” but Mr. G has learned to read my noises and he pulls his cock out before I'm over the edge. And simultaenously, t's fingers aren't as frantic inside me as she's preparing to get her mouth fucked again.

But instead Master starts stroking his cock right in our faces. We each lean in closer, rubbing one another more frantically. Our faces are practically touching and we are both arching our bodies ever closer to Mr. G's cock. I can feel t's cock twitching and throbbing so hard in my hand and I grab it and rub it up and down as hard and as fast as I can, while feeling his fingers rubbing my pussy so fast and so right that I'm immediately right on the verge of orgasm again. We both open our mouths even wider, feeling our own orgasms build as we watch Mr. G bring himself right to the edge and then over.

He moans “fuck” as his cock jerks and then he starts cumming on both of our faces and tongues. We are both frantic now, moaning and jerking one another off and feeling Master's hot cum hit our faces and tongues. “cum for me, you sluts” Master says and we do. I feel t's cock jerking and shooting into her panties while I feel my pussy grip around her fingers, pulsing and cumming and we both spasm and moan and cum so hard for him, kneeling before him and feeling his orgasm dripping off our faces and tongues. He puts his cock first in my mouth to suck him dry, then in t's mouth. And we make sure there's not a drop left in his body, sucking and licking Master's cock clean, while our hands stay in one another's cum soaked panties.

Filthy Thoughts in Inappropriate Places

2010-11-26T16:33:00.000-05:00

This blog will be short. I've stolen a few moments away to write it. I just had to share these fun, lewd thoughts. Because here I am, immersed in family, wholesomeness, Thanksgiving, and all that fun stuff. And I'm thinking about drinking my Master's cum (not wasting a drop, of course) and crawling around naked on the floor begging to be treated like his dirty whore.

And luckily, my Master is an understanding man. I haven't been very available to him these last few days. I hate having the feeling that I can't be there, able to talk on the phone or go online whenever he might want me to. But I try not to dwell on it and instead keep in touch the best way I can, through email, short phone calls and chat in scrabble (he beats me so often, i think it's why we enjoy playing so much).

So here I am, at my in-law's house. I haven't ever felt sexy or wanton here. Even when T and I were first dating and he was feeling frisky over a Christmas break here, I more or less rebuked his advances for naughtiness. And yet, this is the second time I've been down here and been soooo horny. So wet for Him. He and I talked on the phone a bit last night and just that contact (and a few fun comments) made me so hot, I swore to him I bet I was soaking wet. To which he replied "you should go check". Good Lord. If that isn't enough to make me want to go in the bathroom, pull down my panties and just masturbate like there's no tomorrow. Luckily, I have slightly (only just) more self control than that. And I stopped myself at the checking and didn't go on to the rubbing of my clit or finger fucking. And yes, in case you're wondering, I was soaking wet, pussy all inflamed and swollen and begging to be used.

So this Thanksgiving season I am so very thankful. I'm thankful I have a husband who's okay with me having a Master. I'm thankful for my family and our health. And I'm thankful that even in a place that I think of as wholesome and pure and generally very nonsexual, that I can be a raging dirty bitch, wanting to be fucked and used and made to suck and gag on his cock until I drink his cum over and over again until he takes his cock from me and uses it in one of my other holes.

I Need...

2010-11-17T14:50:00.001-05:00

I need to be used as his sex toy. I need him to use my body so rough. To grab my face and slap it, then slap it again with his cock. I need my mouth choked with his hard cock, as he rams it down my throat. I need his hands around my throat, grabbing me tightly while he fucks me. I need to feel his burning smacks on my ass, as he's spanking me over and over. I need to be on all fours in front of him on the bed, while he stands next to it, shoving his cock in and out of my mouth. Then I need him on top of me again, shoving his cock so hard, deep in my pussy, then fucking my mouth again, letting me taste my cum on his cock. I need to hear the desire in his voice as he says “good girl” as I cum and cum and cum, all over his hand and his cock. I need to feel the urgency in his body, as he's fucking my mouth, as I struggle to take him all and suck and stroke him, while he's slamming it so hard in and out of my mouth. I need to hear him laugh under his breath, as he's fucking my mouth so hard, hearing me gag and then going right back to sucking and taking all of his cock. I need to feel his orgasm, feel his body shudder, his cock shooting his hot cum past my mouth, straight down my throat. I need to suck his cock dry, keeping it in my mouth and gently tonguing and sucking it until he removes it from me. I need this and I need permission to cum all over my toys, five, six, seven times in a row. Please, Master? Please? Please, may I cum sometime before Christmas?

How Me and Mr. G Came to Be

2010-11-16T16:45:00.003-05:00

I have been meaning to write this post since I started my blog. I love a good “When Sally Met Harry” kind of almost didn't happen but then happened kind of story. And I'm sort of a cheesy romantic, as well as a hokey believing in karma kind of girl, too. I will try hard to not make this story sickly, I'm getting a cavity too sweet.

I will set the backdrop. T and I had ventured out into the crazy world of finding a Dominant to serve. He was in something pretty serious and I was ending a long distance thing that was starting to get sadly detrimental to me. I was in a real questioning, soul-searching kind of place. Maybe I wouldn't find someone who actually matched up with my own desires (and home life situation.) And here, T had something going on and I didn't want to ruin it for him by giving up (thereby disrupting the balance). But I just felt like it was so hopeless.

Being single when you're married isn't easy enough. But add to that the plethora of nonsense on collarme and I really started to think what I sought wasn't ever going to be found.

I finally decided I would think of the criteria in my head of what I wanted in a Dom. And then, instead of waiting for him to find me, I was going to be pro-active in my search for my Owner. My list included someone living on another continent (sexy foreign accent a must), someone who had their own family and familial commitments (and therefore, presumably would understand mine better) and someone handsome. Because I'm shallow like that.

I almost always have a song I listen to over and over again for a few days when I'm in a certain mood. And my theme song at the time was Soul Asylum's “Can't Even Tell”. The first line, I may never get what I want, but I'm happy just to die trying. That said it all.

So there I was, fishing through the profiles on collarme. And, honestly, I will say this. Mr. G was either the 2^nd or 3^rd person I messaged (and the others either didn't write back or were stupidly lame). He had this picture in his profile of his back....yum. His description of himself, his family, living in England and the fact that he wasn't some “dungeon master” really intrigued me. I am not an approach guys kind of girl usually. That's why this is so bizarre. I just felt like if a true Master was out there for me, I was going to have to take it upon myself to find him.

So Mr. G messaged back and we wrote back and forth a few times on collarme. Then he asked if I'd like to chat on YM. So I definitely did, because it's way easier to get a feel for someone in instant chat, as opposed to email or collarme messages. That first night, we talked for like four hours or something crazy. We had so much in common, it was surreal to me. But even that night was not completely unmarred. He had told me a few rules he gives to his subs. No talking with other Dom/mes was a biggie. Well, I explained that at the time, T's Domme and I spoke on occasion. He said that would be acceptable as long as I never ignore him to talk to her. And then, in our first conversation, I had to do pretty much exactly that!

She had called and was orchestrating a scene for T and I and here I am talking to his amazing, incredibly dominant and sexy man in England and I had to tell him, I need to go talk to her. Oh, and my husband and I are about to have sex. He was pretty much less than thrilled. After quite a bit more talking and explaining (and feeling like why do I feel like I owe this guy so much, we JUST started talking), he promised to give me another chance. We talked a bit more after the ickiness of me breaking one of his rules and I felt like we'd patched things up reasonably well.

The next night or few nights, I didn't hear from him. Or maybe an email saying he was hoping to talk to me again. I was feeling like, wow, I really fucked that up. And then, I got an email from him saying he really needed to talk to me. And I could tell it was about something big. So that night, on YM, he explains how it's not me, he met someone local and wanted to give it a try. I completely understood, knowing how Dom men need to feel, own, touch their possessions. I have never been so impressed with someone breaking up with me (I say that in jest, we really weren't together yet).

He could have just never spoken to me again. Or even just emailed me and said he met someone who lived closer. Instead, he made it a point to come online and explain to me that it really wasn't me. He really liked me and it seemed like we had a lot in common. I was more impressed than bummed. That he was this much of a nice guy, to talk to me and seem genuinely concerned that I was okay with it all. I have never been dumped and felt better about myself afterwards, but this came pretty close.

So about five or six days pass. I've kept up my perusing profiles. I'm still playing my theme song. I'm pretty sure I may never get what I want. When out of the blue, either on collarme or YM, I get a message from Mr. G. He wants to make it clear that I'm not his second choice, but that thing with the local girl wasn't going to work out. I was so relieved and happy to hear from him, that I didn't care if I was his fifth choice. He and I had clicked (even with the ugliness that first chat) so well and I felt like I wanted to talk to him and get to know him so much more.

And now it's been four months and five days since he recontacted me. And I have thanked my lucky stars every single day that I was so brazen of a hussy to message a man living in England with a smokin' sexy back (and an impressive vocabulary).

Craving Submission

2010-11-14T18:17:00.000-05:00

I had a very happy and full life before I went seeking Mr. G. I know this sounds hard to believe to some people. They might ask, “if you were so happy and your life was so good, why did you seek out a Master?” Well, this is a complicated question and one that doesn't just involve my own needs. I will try my best to answer it.

I married my best friend. I knew he was someone who being around made me a better person. He is my partner in every way, shape, and form. And he and I are a great team. We balance one another out and really work hard at being here for one another. Part of this comes from what we've added to our lives. Knowing that there must be balance for this to work, T and I work very hard at engaging with one another, as opposed to just living in the same house, like roommates.

But we also knew when we met, dated and married that we were both submissives. Even in the beginning of our relationship, we had discussed having something similar to what we have going on now (finding Dominant others to fulfill our submissive sides). But then, I was much too insecure about having any form of an “open” relationship. I also felt like I had just found an amazing man and I certainly didn't want to go sharing him with anyone else.

But we are both true submissives. I, personally, identify with “slave”. Don't get me wrong, having a Master as well as a husband (and T having a wife as well as a Domme) is complicated. There are times the balancing act that I always feel I'm performing goes terribly wrong. If I've been too wrapped up with Mr. G and serving him and have been neglecting my family, then they get hurt and irritated with me. If my family demands makes me unavailable for Mr. G (even though he inherently understand my familial obligations, he can't help but be bothered by the fact that his slave isn't there for him when he needs her) then there's issues there. I can't make everyone happy all the time. I just try my hardest and hope for the best.

So this most certainly isn't like a traditional 24/7 live-in Master/slave relationship, where when I'm a good homemaker and a good wife, Mr. G reaps any of the benefits. And my being Mr. G's slave probably distracts me from my homelife on occasion. But the balance that I try attain is when I am Mr. G's good girl by being an excellent mommy and wife to T. I try to do menial house chores when I'm on the phone with Mr. G (instead of always just laying on the guest room bed in the dark dreaming about rainy England and being naked and trapped under his incredibly strong body.)

So needless to say, there are times when I'm busy living my vanilla life and craving submission. I inherently need to submit. Although, I do love being dominated, really what fulfills me is submitting to Mr. G. I know that my T gets fulfilled submitting to

Ms. T's requests, as well. This balances us out, completes us. But since I live on a different continent from Mr. G, it's not like I can just kneel at his feet whenever I need to fill that submissive craving. And he understands I lead a very busy life, as well. He doesn't assign me lots of tasks or assignments in my serving him. He just expects me to be his good girl and that is what I strive to do.

All the blogs I read have been posting about proactive submission or slavery. And this is something I try to practice. I feel like in a way, I'm an employee of Mr. G's. My job is to serve him in whatever capacity he desires. But, like a good employee, if there's something I think of to do that might help me better serve him, I wouldn't hesitate to suggest it. I don't think of it as topping from the bottom because I am not telling him what to do, nor am I telling him what I am going to do that's going to better suit my purposes. I am merely making a suggestion of how I might better please him. How is this topping him? Would a boss feel a power struggle if an employee offered ideas on how they could do their job better? And ultimately, it is his decision anyway. I don't expect Master to always implement a suggestion, only that he listen. The final vote is, obviously, his.

So although I used to feel silly just going and kneeling for him without him requesting it, I find that it always puts me in my happy slave place. I also find that when I tell my Master I've knelt for him today, he is always pleased and usually tells me I'm a good girl or thanks me for doing this for him. Does this mean I'm topping from the bottom, because I kneel on my own without him asking me to? I don't think so. I think that it's my job as his slave to stay healthy and happy (and best able to serve him). And if kneeling on my own, centering myself and getting in touch with my slave-ness helps me be a happier, more productive person, then I'm going to do it until he tells me not to.

Master Has the Most Amazing Hands

2010-11-12T13:47:00.000-05:00

Happy Friday!

Pussy Training Advice

2010-11-10T16:48:00.000-05:00

So I've been trying out my stainless steel ben wa balls and I'm not really noticing any effect. I mean, I can hold them in some and then they just start to slip out. And I understand, the point is to get to where you can hold them in all the time. But unless it's slipping out of me, I don't actively notice the muscles doing anything (and then it's too late, because i can feel it start to slide out and it's going to be out in seconds! This makes me know I haven't reached the wear them to the grocery store stage yet! Can you imagine a stainless steel ball bouncing down the aisle and me just looking at my cart and muttering "damn carts! they're falling apart"). And I am not one of those lucky women who finds the sensation of two balls rolling around inside me stimulating. I more equate it to crunches or pushups for my pussy.

Has anyone found Kegel exercises that work? I do the ones when you're peeing and all that. And I sometimes play a game where I push out as hard as I can (Master seemed to think that was a fun trick) and I could probably shoot a toy a couple feet out of me. But I really want a wonderously tight pussy. I want exercises that get results! Anyone have a fantastically fit pussy and want to give me some workout advice?

The Chuckling Sadist

2010-11-08T22:08:00.000-05:00

I do not consider myself a masochist. When I say I crave pain, it's really more that I crave sensation. I crave my Master's touch and some pain/pleasure type of thing. Unless I am so frustrated or so turned on, a little pain (biting my nipples, squeezing my ass/tits) is more than enough. Especially when accompanied by fucking or finger fucking. That's really what I love.

But I am my Master's slave. I am not just in this for what I get out of it. Quite the contrary, really. I'm lucky that my master loves seeing what a whore I am and loves making me cum (and knows that I really love to cum and cum and cum until I'm a drooling, babbling idiot)! Because I exist (and play) for his pleasure, for his desires. I was reminded this a few times on my visit. Three specific incidents come to mind almost immediately when I think about really meeting Mr. G's sadistic side.

And don't get me wrong. There's times when he's been teasing me and I've realized it's because he's in a sadistic mood and I'm an ocean away and he can't physically get at me so he needles me mercilessly and enjoys watching me squirm. Plus, he's had me stand and present myself to him on web cam and he can SEE the struggle on my face, the discomfort, the pure uncomfortableness I feel when exposing myself like that. But really meeting the sadistic side of sir had to happen in person.

These are in no particular order. The first incident of my Master's sadism was in the form of face slapping. Now, mind you, I have filled out the likes/dislikes, limits worksheets. He and I have discussed at great length what we like and don't like in play. So he knew very, very well that face slapping wasn't something I considered a limit, but not exactly a big turn on either. I think I ranked it at like a 3 or 4 out of 10. Even at the time he said it was more of a 7 for him, which I knew was a bad sign.

So there he was, slapping me in the face and just looking at me, watching me react. I know I can safe word at any time. But let me explain something about the safe word for me. I think of the safe word as exactly that, a word for SAFETY. It's not a this isn't turning me on word. Or a this is very uncomfortable and I don't like it word. It's a SAFE word. I am to use it so that I don't let my Master damage his property (me). I have actually never safe worded in my life. I have said “I think I'm about to pass out” which was equally efficient at ending the scene. But to me, I don't look at the safe word as a switch to flip when I'm not having done to me what I fantasize being done to me. The safe word is a word of protection, so that Master doesn't hurt me in a way that he doesn't mean to.

So needless to say, I'd never safe word over something like having my face repeatedly slapped. But I was really, really not liking it. And there he was, smiling and smacking me. He said the look on my face was shooting daggers at him. I don't remember looking so hatefully at him. I do remember, however, thinking FUCK, I HATE HAVING MY FACE SLAPPED. But that's the point to all this for me. It's not about my pleasure. And if my master gets a kick out of pissing me off and slapping my face until I'm royally pissed off, that's his prerogative. Plus, it was terribly degrading, having my face smacked over and over again like that. That was a turn on, even if the actual act of having my face slapped wasn't. If that makes any sense.

The next incident of sadism wasn't really in play at all. We were lying in bed naked, maybe even spooning a bit. And his hand was resting on my body and he just grabbed the most hated part of my body, my belly, and just squeezed. I tried to push his hand off, roll away and he pulled me back and pinned my hand under his body and he grabbed my belly again. I'm pretty sure he said it was his and he could grab it if he wanted to. Which made me stop trying to push him away and stop trying to escape. I will say I was so unhappy, having my ugliest part of my body grabbed like that. But I also conceded to his point that it's his and if he wants to grab it, I'm not in any position to stop him. So in a way, this meanness led to something really incredible. I felt very, very owned in that moment.

And last but not least is the wrestling. I have been looking forward to tussling with Mr. G ever since we started talking about “resistance play” a few months ago. I have never had a rape or kidnapping fantasy. It's just not something that does it for me. I like to say, “you can't rape the willing.” But when we began talking about not role playing of a rape or kidnapping scene, just wrestling; me trying to get him off of me or something like that, I was very very interested. Plus I'm a big UFC/MMA fan and I love watching two men struggle and wrestle. It's really hot in a gladiator kind of way.

So the wrestling occurred with us completely dressed. And yet it was SUCH a turn on. He had me pinned and I was fighting with everything I had to get him off of me. There were a couple times I felt like I even moved him a little. But the kicker of this was he was over me, holding me down, and just laughing the whole time. This was like throwing gasoline onto my fire! I wanted so badly to throw him off of me, to make him stop laughing so amusedly at me. And this only made him laugh more and hold me down harder. Seeing the pure enjoyment on his face and trying SO hard to unpin myself from the bed really brought out the fighter in me. I struggled so hard! I never did get unpinned. Although, I will say he thought I was pretty strong (for a girl).

But this battle, this struggle, even though he was laughing and I was fighting with all my might and not really moving him much, only ended up turning me on more! I felt like he was so strong, so powerful and so sadistic! He reached his hand into my jeans and found my pussy SO wet after this little wrestling match. I told him, it's funny, you can tell a guy is enjoying himself by his erection. But we, as girls, have just as obvious a gauge for how turned on we are, by reaching into our panties. Once he did, he could feel how totally soaked I was and how completely hot and turned on struggling with him made me. I'm only hoping next visit to struggle more, but maybe naked and with his cock inside me...

Preconceived Notions

2010-11-07T20:48:00.000-05:00

There were certain things that I knew pretty positively about my trip beforehand. From my last vacation to England, I knew the food was going to suck (I was surprised by a few actually palateable meals), I knew it was going to be cold as hell, and I knew the saying goodbye to my Master at the end of the week was going to feel like I was ripping a part of my body off and leaving it across the ocean. All of these things played out pretty much exactly as I'd imagined. (Although, I have to say, seeing my Master's sadness on the longest trip to the airport I've ever taken was a nice surprise. Not that I enjoyed in any way seeing him sad, but more that he had such strong feelings for me and wasn't ready to let me go just yet. It made my own sadness feel much more justified.)

And honestly, having been with my T for 11 years now, I had NO anticipated thoughts/feelings about the sex or the play. I didn't want to put pressure on myself to act or be a certain way. I also didn't want to build it up in my head as this fantasy world (where my body looks like Scarlett Johansson's when I'm naked and there's never any awkward moments or messy clean up afterwards) where real life can never live up to it. I will say that the comfortableness we seemed to feel pretty much immediately was a happy surprise. I will also say that I wasn't completely surprised that he affected me so entirely that the whole week had a dream-like Twilight Zone quality to it.

What I didn't expect was how unembarrassed I would be, coming and going with my Master by the front desk of my hotel at all hours of the night. I didn't expect to smile back with a cheshire cat grin at the snarky, I-know-what-you're-up-to hotel staff. But that's exactly how it was. I would go down there for coffee or chocolate with clothes haphazardly thrown on, just fucked hair and my face still flushed from playing and fucking and I would smile at the hotel staff with the proudest, biggest, cheesiest smile on my face. Like, “Yes, that was just me you heard screaming. I just got spanked and fucked and used so amazingly that all that ruckus you heard was probably even more wild and hot than what you're picturing. Oh, and you might want to tighten up the headboard.” (No, I didn't actually say any of this, but a smile can speak volumes.)

Alternatively, I didn't expect to feel total shame/panic when I'd go out with my sir. We didn't go very many places but the trip that stands out in my mind was when we went on an adventure to find me an American/UK power converter at like 4 in the morning. We were mostly sure we wouldn't run into anyone that knew my Master or his family, but it was so much on my mind to not walk too closely or hold onto him or look at him the way I can't help myself but to look at him, adoringly. And as a byproduct, I felt a bit icky, guilty.

Believe me, I was fully expecting at some point to feel like a homewrecker or an adulterer. I'm an overthinker, have tendencies for neurosies and really do care so much about my family and his. I would never ever want my actions or his to cause bad feelings of any kind to my partner or his. I just didn't think it would hit me, at 4 in the morning, walking through Asda (British Walmart) and realizing I felt like “the other woman” and terrified we'd run into someone that knows my Master. Plus, this snarky little employee was so disgusted that we'd want to convert their precious British power for use with evil American electronics. I thought maybe I was being too sensitive until Mr. G asked me if I noticed that guy's attitude and we had a good laugh about it afterwards.

I also thought I was going to work a whole lot more and not just sleep and read and watch some of my favorite TV shows that are no longer on the air. (Friends, Two Guys and a Girl, and Gilmore Girls!) I was so lazy and decadent. I ate like one meal a day, supplemented with stupid amounts of coffee, dark chocolate, and crisps (salt & vinegar, to be precise). I pictured myself feeling afraid to go out by myself, unsure of where to go and fear of looking like an idiot with their foreign money. Instead, I went out every day, walked around, people watched, bought little odds and ends, and felt very comfortable. I even thought to myself that I might blend in a little and not stick out like a silly American tourist (like how I felt my last trip to England.) I still took WAY too long figuring out how to pay for things, but the funny part is, I got to where I didn't care as much. I wasn't so self-conscious of it. And also, Mr. G was good to pay for things when he was with me so he didn't have to watch me struggle, picking up each coin and reading the amount printed on the side. I also think it helped that I'm a dork and I had google mapped the whole area around my hotel and had a good idea where all the shops and restaurants were.

I also had no idea the awe and amazement I would feel one night when we'd run out to get KFC (yes, I'm one of those fucking annoying Americans that goes to a foreign country and then eats American fast food) and we drove by Kirkstall Abbey. Mr. G was kind enough to stop and walk me around, giving me a private tour (it was closed but the outside is unbelievably impressive). I really couldn't have pictured he and I, at some ridiculous time like 2 in the morning, walking around a medieval Cistercian abbey (ruins dating back to 1152). It was so cold and he held onto me so tight as we walked around and I ooohed and aaahed over it. It was so unexpected and wonderful.

There are probably a few things I'm missing here. But the last preconceived notion that was proven wrong was how badly I wanted to watch “The Secretary” with Mr. G. I had put my movie into my suitcase probably before I'd put any clothes in. I couldn't believe he'd never seen it and really wanted to watch it with him. About halfway through the movie (which, to his credit, he didn't say was boring or too serious or too slow, but I started worrying all these things) we decided we'd rather DO these things than WATCH them on a movie. It was funny how relieved I felt when I turned the laptop off and we started to play, when I'd looked SO forward to watching that with him. As it turned out, Mr. G and I had the most fun watching a comedy routine (Jimmy Carr's), Top Gear, my previously mentioned new favorite show The In-Betweeners, and Booze Britain (a show that's like Girls Gone Wild, but more like a documentary and no boobs).

Now, I think the main objective for me is to not get a bunch of ideas in my head for my next trip over. I try very hard to keep my expectations to a minimum. This lends itself to making everything more surprising and equally more fulfilling.

Phone Sex Existentialism

2010-11-03T12:42:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I exist only to be his dirty whore. I am nothing but a sex object, from the hair he can pull to jerk my head around, to the legs he can pin down while he's biting me or otherwise making me squirm, and moan, and try to fight through the pain. My pussy gets so swollen and wet. He makes me feel like fruit ripening on a vine, sometimes getting to the bursting point.

Now when he talks dirty to me on the phone (and you have to understand, he's so polite and British, that hearing filthy, degrading things coming out of his mouth is so exceedingly sexy) I can picture his face as he's holding me down and putting his fingers or his cock inside my pussy, pounding me like the slutty slave I truly am. I get to where all I can think about is his touch, his voice, and cumming. Please let me cum. And even after I've cum once or twice, it's almost like I only need to more.

Last night on the phone, he and I talked about things we'd done on my visit. And I kept going to my oh my god i have no voice minnie mouse kind of voice. I kept getting weak in the knees and I could feel my pussy getting more and more hot and wet. Before I put my finger between my lips I can know, inherently, that it's going to be like warm massage oil in there. Hot, slick and ready to go. It was no exception last night. My clit was so swollen and sensitive, I was actually a little shocked.

I've been touching my pussy pretty regularly for 27 (ack!) years. I know myself inside and out and have most definitely fallen prey to the laziness and ease of mechanical toys for stimulation and fruition of these orgasms I so desperately need. When given surprise time to play before my house was full of people last Friday (and no idea how long I had privacy), I had the most amazing five orgasms in maybe five minutes' time. I'm the queen of the microwave play session. It's so hot and quick. Very satisfying.

But Master has retaught me the art of feeling so turned on I'm going to explode. Not having control over orgasms can sometimes make me feel like I'm going to have a panic attack. I definitely used to cum as a way to relieve stress and reward myself for things. I have to remind myself I am HIS whore, his begging slut. I get to cum when HE says, which is essentially for his pleasure. I am such a selfish fucking slut. I know this.

The upside to sometimes feeling like I'm going to go Hindenberg and just burst into flames is it makes me so sensitive, so much MORE turned on. I think I used to play when I wasn't even wet, just start touching myself and make it happen because I wanted to cum. I haven't touched my pussy in the three and a half months with my Master and not felt it and thought it felt like it was about to explode.

Last night, with just my fingers and the words of my Master in my ear, I got off so hard from phone sex, that even that one orgasm was enough. I actually felt sated from ONE orgasm??!!! (this is crazy in my book) Having heard "good girl" enough with his fingers or cock deep inside me, teasing me, making me beg to cum in person, having it fresh in my memory, and then hearing him talk that like, hearing the passion in his voice, was almost hallucinogenic for me. I could FEEL my Master on top of me, over me. I could feel my pussy grip around his hand, begging as he fucked me so hard to please let me cum. Please. He seems to know my breaking point because thankfully he's never crossed it (and I've never had to go Pulp Fiction and buy a gun from the sheer frustration of needing an orgasm).

And then he lets me cum. I cum for him. I'm his good girl for being so obedient and so wanton and dirty. I cum so hard, so deep in my pussy, that it sets everything right in my world. Philosophically speaking, this is my utopia.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

2010-11-03T12:39:00.004-04:00

Along with the great highs of my trip, there were equally low parts. Some of it, in my opinion, was a bit of a letdown after a really intense, deeply satisfying scene. Some of it was the genetically instilled guilt that Jews in my family have handed down for generations. And some of it was worry that I was walking through a door in my marriage that I could never walk back through.

The last night I was there, I had gotten this panicky feeling. (me? panic?) I started to worry that this would be the last time I would get to spend face to face time with my Master. Let me just say that T had in no way even insinuated this. I just get freaky in my own head sometimes.

Now, I know I've touched on my vanity a bit. Besides the fact that I turn into a tomato, (red puffy) and really leak liquids everywhere, I also really just hate crying in front of someone, getting comforted while crying. I think this goes deeper than just vanity, though, because my mom says when I was little, I'd push her away when I'd get hurt and she would try to comfort me.

So it's stupid late/early. We haven't slept and are both worn out. Mr. G is heading home to get some sleep and help out with his family. I never for a moment will say a negative word about this. It genuinely makes him so much more attractive to me because he's not a shirker. Being a good husband/father is a HUGE turn-on for me. It was an insane balancing act for him that week and I actually got to see him more than I'd even thought I would.

And there I am, holding back a big ole girlie ugly cry. He's hugging and kissing me bye, gathering his phones, keys, putting on his jacket. I have a sob so big in my throat and I feel like it's about to spring out. I put on my fake smile and don't speak a word for fear the aforementioned sob will leak out.

He got as far as the hotel room door when all I did was take a ragged breath. He asked me, "you okay?" And I couldn't speak without some crying coming out in my voice. Without a word, he walked back in, took his coat off, put his things down and just climbed into the bed and held me as I cried. I cried for a good long time. And he just held me and helped me see everything was going to be okay. This was precisely what I needed at that moment even though I didn't know it beforehand. I think I even tried to persuade him to go because I felt it coming on. It really tells me not only how well he knows me, but what kind of an owner he is. He really takes responsibility for me and my well-being and I'm so grateful and feel so lucky.

And now that I'm back from my trip, I can say with a huge sigh of relief that my trip accomplished everything I'd hoped it would. I got to spend amazing time with my Master. I came home loving my life, my family. I feel lucky that this is my job, my day-to-day existence. I feel like I was missed and am more appreciated at home. And all the clichés like absence makes the heart grow fonder ring true.

Nothing like a dreamlike, decadent, lazy vacation to totally recharge my battery. I feel myself more engaged in my life at home and at work, newly inspired to be the best me I can be. Which is really what this whole journey is all about, isn't it?

BDSM Toy International Travel Tip

2010-10-30T08:02:00.000-04:00

Before my trip I was being my normal self and researched this topic by searching google for anyone's experiences in this regard. I didn't find any terribly recent information, most of the posts were as old as four or five years. So I just wanted to write this post in case another lucky American submissive has met her dream Master in Europe and needs to travel abroad with toys and have the time of her life.

I packed leather cuffs (wrist and ankle), a crop, a flogger, a blindfold, a gag and some clothespins. I was terribly nervous about being pulled aside at security at any one of the three airports I visited on my journey to be asked “and what exactly is this for” or some other ridiculously obvious question.

Needless to say not a single mention from anyone. Granted, the toys were in my checked baggage that I had checked at the ticket counter and didn't see again until it came out on the conveyer. But even so, I had read one blog (way closer in time to 9/11 and heightened security) where someone was taken to the luggage area under the plane on a tarmac and questioned about their bdsm toys.

So anyone else curious about security that googles “sex toys, bdsm toys, airport security, or international travel” will be happy to note that at least in my case, it could not have been easier to travel with toys.

Throat Raping and Other Romantic Gestures

2010-10-29T10:31:00.000-04:00

I'm not a braggart. I am not terribly driven or competitive. But there are three things I know I do well. Give a back rub, make an omelet, and give a blowjob. I thoroughly enjoy doing these things and I'm unashamed to say unless I'm drunk or otherwise distracted, I consistently do these three things well.

I love worshiping my Master's cock. I really could not tire of giving him whatever pleasure he wants. The crazy thing is, his and my libido really matched well, too. I like to say I'm insatiable (and I have my moments) but my trip certainly had the perfect balance of good quality downtime, as well. It's funny, it's not that I didn't picture he and I just hanging out, I couldn't really picture it before it happened. You can't know how your personality and face-to-facedness is going to match until you've just actually done it. But there we were, laughing our asses off, watching tons my new favorite show, “The In-Betweeners.” Having those kind of memories as well as the filthy, degrading, stupidly sexy ones makes me just as happy, just in a different way. A more content way, I'd say.

But back to throat raping. I had never really noticed how much I liked it until my Master and I'd done some talking about it (and porn watching of it.) See, because giving a blowjob isn't about control for me. But throat raping is really ONLY about control. Breath control, a hole on my body control, plus it's not like I get to truly worship his cock or do what I want type of control. It's almost like a duel between he and I. I try to make my mouth and throat as willing and as nongag-y as possible, while still sucking and trying to lick and worship. He's throat raping me with more sexual intensity and degradation than I've ever experienced. It's an amazing combination, let me tell you.

And let's be honest. Throat raping. It's a pretty offensive sounding phrase. (which is why when I thought of the blog title this morning, driving my car, it made me happy) But there's 28 very sharp reasons why it's not “rape.” My goal in a throat raping is to still attempt to make my mouth as compliant as possible. Biting his cock is fucking never an option. But then, we're struggling hard on the bed. I'm trying to swallow him whole and not need air. Apparently at one point, needing air became too important and I tapped out UFC-style.

I say apparently because I don't remember tapping out, only that I didn't get unconscious. It was so intense for me, my play with my Master. It was so different than how I've experienced subspace. Playing in the past (or times my Master has talked to me with his Dom voice and sent me off into a fog), it's more like a float-y, sexual, do whatever he wants, say whatever he wants. But really, out of my body. Blindfolds or hoods, loss of my senses is more how I'd experienced it in the past. Like a different type of high. There's times in subspace that I think I might be a masochist. I just want more of anything and everything, pain, fucking, whatever. Just more, more, more.

But times playing with my Master, I experienced a more intense like...interactive space. He really brought out the struggler, the competitor in me. He was never out of my sights, though, and/or I was never off in my head by myself in the fucking least. And subspace also numbs me out to pain a LOT. That and my Master has some really fucking strong hands. So I found myself very, very intensely IN the scene. Feeling the roughness and not just lying complacently taking it, but almost giving it back some. And at the same time, battling with myself to be obedient as best I can be while I'm struggling to breathe. I don't feel like I'm completely explaining this well. I wonder if there's different levels of subspace or like a different phrase that I'm unfamiliar with which is what I was experiencing.

I have so many more stories, things to share, hot fucking thoughts and deep thoughts from my trip. I wish life would just go away for about three days so I could just write and write about it. I'm starting a list of things I want to make sure I cover in my blog. There's so much good writing material in my head, I feel like I have gone to a writers' idea think tank or symposium.

An Awful, Wonderful Game

2010-10-28T16:16:00.000-04:00

I plan on writing the mushy stuff, the darker, deeper stuff and lots and lots of hot, fucking sexy stuff. But I'm just going to say that I'll write it as I feel it. This is in no way, shape, or form a complete chronology of my trip. It was way too dream-like and intense to write it out in such a form. And honestly, I don't have the time or the attention span to sit here and type some sort of report from start to finish what happened. So instead, as stuff comes to me (or cums to me, as the case may be, I'll explain this in a second) I'll blog it.

So back to that cumming thing. It's funny, I got back Tuesday and until late late last night when I'd had like my 42^nd orgasm replaying the footage of this game in my head and cumming like a banshee, I couldn't put to words a single thing about my trip. Granted (as my own personal therapist and translator of my jumbled up thoughts and perceptions, otherwise known as my Master) said I hadn't had the opportunity to really let myself relive or recall anything because I'd been too busy trying to reacclimate myself to my home life and my much neglected job responsibilities. (Please, in the future, someone remind me I'm not ever going to be motivated to work when I'm in England and I need to keep my inbox a little lighter so the coming back to reality isn't as stressful.)

So here's a game that we played that I couldn't stop thinking about last night. I was naked on the hotel bed. I can't even remember if Mr. G was clothed or naked at the time. He was playing a game with me that I hated and loved so simultaneously, it's hard to even imagine. It really is like delicious fucking torture. Actually, all I can think about when imagining this game is his calm face above mine, looking down at me and either laughing, smiling or just watching me. He can look at me in such a way that I swear to God, he sees through me. He reads me like a book that he wrote the Cliffsnotes to.

Oh, while I digress, and just in case anyone's wondering, there really was no awkwardness. I shocked myself by not giggling like a schoolgirl and we clicked immediately in person (as he said we would) And it's as if we'd spent the perfect amount of time getting to know one another to now really get to explore one another.

So he's fingering me, really just bringing me right to the brink of cumming. At first, I'm pretty sure I always got to the asking (begging, pleading) stage before he'd stop and just watch me. He did this so many times, I was making noises I'm pretty sure only animals make. Plus, he brings out the struggler in me that I've never even known existed. So he'd get me sooooo close to cumming and then pin me down, hold me down tight while I cursed and grunted and thrashed. I never was like striking AT him.

Even when I thought I might die or stroke out or something, I wasn't ever trying to be disobedient. And he knew it. I think at one point I got a little too feisty and he told me to “behave” (I might be mixing up scenes here) But I wanted to cum more than I wanted my heart to beat again. He really brought me to the animal place of nothing matters, not a fucking thing but Him and cumming. His hand. Cumming. Please don't fucking stop. Please, Master, PLEASE?! He stopped so many times.

The funny part is, even though he'd never touched me before, it really seemed like he just knew me inside and out. Eventually (whether I was actually trying to slip one by him or just couldn't really even beg to cum any longer) I'd just get so close without asking permission and he'd just stop, take his hand out of my pussy, and just hold me down. Fingers fucking me so good, so fucking right, so close, so close, so close. Then withdraw his hand completely and hold me down so tight on the bed while I lost my mind.

And then finally, I'm pretty sure he made me cum like a ridiculous amount of times in a row. He is so very good at torturing me, but even better at balancing it just right, just so, just before I seriously can't take it anymore, he then rewards me and compliments me and makes me cum and cum and cum. His aftercare is as sweet and safe and loving as his play is rough and fucking intense and hot. God, I can't wait to play this game again.

Smooth Pussy Revisited

2010-10-28T16:08:00.000-04:00

Just a quick update on the hair removal question I'd posted a while back on my blog. Since I so rarely get comments, I really wanted to thank everyone for their suggestions and solutions of how they deal with it. I knew I couldn't possibly be the only slave having unsightly skin irritation issues.

I have twice now gone and gotten a Brazilian wax. And really, minus the fact that there's a small Korean lady all in my business for about 15 minutes. And I swear I'm NOT a masochist and there's a pretty good rip every now and then, I've found that the regrowth is SO slow and I have hardly any irritation at all. And honestly, I think this is only going to get better, the more I do it, the less irritation I will even get.

So anyone who's really having shaving/lotion/tweezer disasters like I did, I highly recommend it. And I don't even go anywhere fancy like a spa, just the little nail shop up the street where it's clean and I can get in and out.

a nibble, a nosh, a snack if you will...

2010-10-28T03:49:00.000-04:00

I promise I haven't quit my blog. As a matter of fact, I want to dive in and just write and write and write about my trip and everything that's happened since the last time I wrote. Unfortunately, I haven't caught up with real life yet. But let me just tease a bit and say I really have so much to say and promise (cross my heart) to write at least a little every day until I have relived and recalled every sordid, juicy bit of my visit. And there are quite a few really good juicy bits...

And as a showing of good faith that I'm still very committed to my blog, and obviously because I'm so proud to be his dirty slut, I am sharing this photo of my freshly spanked ass. Plus, there really aren't too many occasions (if ever!) in my life that I've seen a photo taken of my ass and went "wow! that looks amazing!" so I had to share. And honestly, that may not impress some hardcore spanking folks out there, but that was strictly from my Master's hand and it certainly made a lasting impression on me.

All's Fair in Love and Slavery

2010-10-03T00:09:00.000-04:00

I know anyone reading this blog would be shocked and amazed to find that I sometimes grumble under my breath about my Master. Yes, I know, everyone just thinks I sing love songs and go about my busy vanilla life in a happy, dazed fog of love for Mr. G. And honestly, there are definitely whole days that do pass exactly like that. I work, cook, wife, mommy, clean, take care of pets, etc. with a blithe smile on my face and a twinkle in my eye.

But every now and then I fuck up (or it's perceived that I've fucked up) and am punished. Now, this is when the distance thing *really* sucks. Don't get me wrong, when the time for rewards comes up (or play time or whatever) and I'm an ocean away from him, it's a bit of a struggle, too. But it really seems worse when I've screwed up, broken a rule or just done or said something asinine and pissed off my Master. Because that's really part of the beauty of M/s relationships. When the slave has messed up, there's a built in remedy of punishment to deal with it. It's so much nicer than vanilla relationships where you fuck up, you know you've fucked up and then you just have to be humble and chagrined for a few days, trying to make up for it.

There is great satisfaction in having messed up, knowing I've messed up and then having my Master deal with it (dole out a punishment) and be done with it, moving on to bigger and better things. The fact that he can't take his belt off and have me bend over a sofa to take my lashings or something equally as humiliating and painful is incredibly frustrating at times (for us both, I assure you) And luckily, Mr. G is always good enough after my long-distance punishment (and proper grovelling) to tell me, it's okay, I'm over it, let's move on. Because, honestly, I will continue to beat myself up over things I've thought I could've done better for WAY too long. And I love that he gives me that permission to get over it and move on, because then I do.

But there is another part of this Master/slave component that can be very frustrating, as well. Luckily, this hasn't come up much. But it just happened the other night. I'm not going to go into boring detail, but needless to say, he was irritated with me, didn't like the way I'd handled something and punished me for it (this particular punishment doesn't even sound harsh, but it really was due to the disappointment factor. my getting to see him on skype was promised and then yanked away from me when this little incident happened and timing-wise, skype isn't always the easiest to maneuver, with our two families, so to have it promised and then taken away really fucking sucked)

And here's the kicker. I still don't think I *really* did anything punish-worthy. I even sort of tried to argue my case, but then hearing the decisiveness in his voice, I realized very quickly this was futile and shut my lawyer-like mouth. And I'm a very fair-minded person. Doing what I do for a living, I've really decided to hear both sides of things as much as I can before deciding for myself what to think. So to not even really be able to debate the "rightness" of my side was incredibly frustrating. (and being told "know your place" ordinarily would irk me to no end, but coming from him, and the way he said it, really just made me want to kneel in front of him and thank him for reminding me)

It's a fairly bitter pill to swallow and yet, it's the reality of the situation. He has every right to punish me for something he feels there needs to be retribution for. And it's my place to just accept it and move on, knowing I will never, ever make that mistake again. And luckily, he's a level-headed and reasonable man. He doesn't confuse me by changing the rules mid-game or come up with impossible situations, to test me or force me to fail. He really doesn't enjoy punishing me any more than I want to be punished. (and honestly, disappointing him really makes me so sick in the pit of my stomach, that the punishment being given is usually a bit of a relief because I don't have to keep battering myself internally. It's his job to punish me, teach me the lesson and then we can move on, hopefully with me a better slave and us a little closer for having been through it.) Unless, of course, I don't think I did anything wrong. Then the lesson learned is....I'm the slave, he's the Master, and I need to know my place.

The Budding Career of a Porn Star

2010-09-22T14:13:00.001-04:00

I made my first video last night. And no, I don't actually mean for vivid or kink (or burning angel or...I really have watched too much porn in my life), but I did make my first movie for Mr. G last night. Wow. I really never thought I'd do that. I haven't in 38 years been captured on video (and recorded, because I guess theoretically, webcam is "capturing" and just not recording it) being the whore that I am until now.

And I was not as horrified to watch it as I was afraid I'd be. Like most women, I have serious body issues. I go back and forth between not looking very closely at myself and examining myself in the mirror a little too much. And I try very very hard not to disparage myself (out loud, my inner monologue is worse than Joan Rivers on the red carpet) because I don't want Mr. G to think I'm disparaging his property. But I have to say, watching yourself play is a bizarre experience.

First off, I have to say I was *so* turned on because with Mr. G home and a fantastic welcome home chat, I felt like my world was back in place. The planet that I, as a satellite, orbit around has once again returned and I'm no longer drifting, lost in space. Plus, all he has to do is say a few key words and I'm panting, moaning, and truly soaking my panties.

And I really went into this video-making with a good attitude. I am not making this for public consumption or to make a profit. I am making this movie for Mr. G. He's seen me do these things and rather enjoyed the show. I wanted to get fucked so badly because I'd waited days and days for him and then when he told me to fuck myself hard for him with a toy....launched me into full-on lust mode. So I just violated myself a few different ways and in different positions and didn't analyze each and every frame.

And then I downloaded it to my computer and watched. I had fucked up because I'd hit what I thought was pause but it really created like five different movies, so that was a little irritating. And I didn't have the patience to find video editing software and piece them together. So I watched them one time through really rather horrified (completely tearing apart my body, looking for every shot of my boobs looking floppy or my belly not at all lean and flat, butt...wow, certain views, it's wide!) and then a second time, more kindly and actually heard how much fun I was having for him, remembered how hot it is to be a dirty slut for him and actually got turned on a bit. (this is a huge improvement over the initial nausea I felt at seeing me fuck myself).

Then I dragged it to dropbox and shared it with Mr. G. And now, I haven't heard from him yet today so I sit on pins and needles, feeling a bit like I just sent myself naked on a platter to Mr. G's hotel room and I'm waiting on the room service cart for him to answer the door. It's a little horrifying, let me tell you.

But I did it. I did something I thought I'd never do. And that's a true testament to Mr. G. Because I never thought I'd let myself be recorded being such a dirty slut. But he really asked me in such a way that I couldn't refuse. He didn't order me to film it. He asked me to fuck myself hard for him and cum hard for him. And how nice it'd be if he had a video of that. And I was like....uh...god, no please? And he's like, okay, that's fine. And then, I immediately want to please him and I know he didn't just say that as a passive aggressive way to make me film myself. He genuinely only wants to push me in certain ways. He never crosses that line of what makes me feel good about myself and what makes me wake up the next day feeling disgusted with myself over. So how can a good slave not oblige? He so rarely makes requests of me that makes me even *want* to say no. And I really got the most pleasure out of the whole experience knowing that I was ultimately pleasing him. Because even if he didn't like the videos, the fact that I did it for him shows him how much his pleasure means to me.

Now, I just have to work on camera angles, I know there's got to be one that makes my stomach look flat....

Subbies and Slaves are Like Children

2010-09-20T15:26:00.001-04:00

I'm going to hold my breath until Mr. G is home (tomorrow) and you can't make me let it out.

Weekends Are Made For Fun

2010-09-19T19:43:00.003-04:00

I have had a most enjoyable weekend. Ms. T came and spent the weekend and it's been so great seeing her and catching up and just getting to spend time together. I love friends that you can go three years between visits and when you're together it's like no time has passed!

I want to thank all my commenters' advice. And I actually took my anonymous reader's advice and went and got a Brazilian bikini wax! And honestly, I have to say, the jury is still out. The actual pain of getting it done is probably a 7 or 8 out of 10. But, the pain really only lasts for a few seconds. And I did a good job of hiding how much it hurt and tricked Ms. T into getting hers done, too. (Love you, Ms. T!) I'd say it hurt about as much as a quirt, very much that kind of burny sting. And, obviously, since the pain being administered was by a tiny Korean woman and not Mr. G, I wasn't the slightest bit turned on, so it wasn't really the fun kind of hurt.

But it will all be worth it if my pussy is smooth and beautiful. At this point, it's still really pink and actually kind of bumpy. Not bumpy in a razor burn kind of way, more like welts, really. If in the next day or two, my sweet girl parts go back to their normal lily white and remain smooth and rash-free, I will definitely do it again (obviously right before my trip). At this point, though, I'm not quite sure it was worth it.

Minus watching "The Secretary" and talking about Mr. G, it's been a fun, mellow vanilla weekend. Realistically, though, without Mr. G around, life is vanilla. I'm sure you all are waiting with bated breath to hear how my pussy heals. And I promise to keep you posted.

And kudos to anyone who knows that the title of this post are lyrics from a Debbie Deb song called "Lookout Weekend!"

Any advice, anyone? Please? I'm begging....

2010-09-16T14:46:00.001-04:00

So I need help. I'm sure with all the submissives out there someone has to have found a solution to this problem. And what is this problem? Razorburn. I get it so badly! And I really just get it in my bikini area. And I don't mean that politely. Literally, just where the edge of a bikini would rub me. I have tried shaving, a highly rated gel/cream and I have a professional-like home waxing kit but am terrified to use it *there* for fear of passing out from the pain. What's a slave to do?

I have finally grown out and healed from my last nasty bout of razorburn. But it's time to groom again and I seriously don't know what to do. I've contemplated trying waxing in tiny areas to see if I can take it. But wax is so sticky and impossible to get off. I've looked into sugaring, epilators, different creams. Not to get too graphic, but the *really* sensitive skin of my girl parts never gets bumps, just the area like on top of my pubis and the edges where maybe my panties rub?

So anyone have any sage advice? Anyone? Please? I honestly have contemplated tweezing to an extent, but this really seems like it could be a form of torture. I would be eternally grateful if ANYONE has any advice.

Aching need

2010-09-16T10:42:00.000-04:00

I'm truly missing him so badly. It makes me want my tits slapped, my nipples pinched and pulled and bit. It makes me want to be tied down tightly, gag in my mouth. It makes me want my inner thighs and pussy spanked. I want to kneel naked before Mr. G, trembling with anticipation. I want to see that look on his face that I've seen before when he's talking to me in his Dom voice (you know, that certain tone of voice that you hear that immediately makes you want to say "Sir" and makes you catch your breath) and know that we have hours of uninterrupted time ahead of us to fill some of my need.

And quite honestly, it's just how badly i want to *serve* him. I want the sexual pleasure and the hurt of the pain, too, don't get me wrong. But what I crave, what feels like a hole in the center of me right now is being able to serve him, to do for him. I get a stupid amount of satisfaction from just researching something for him and telling him what I've found. When he says, "thank you, good girl," I feel like I just won a medal.

The next 33 days seem like an eternity. But just like any good addict needing a fix, I will take it one day at a time. (No, I've never actually been an addict, but I have known and loved too many alcoholics and addicts not to know WAY too much about it. There was a time I was a self-help book junkie and I think I've read them all.) If I can make it through today, T will be home tomorrow. And then tomorrow night, my good friend MsT is coming for the weekend. And that is going to be so much fun. And then, Mr. G will be home Tuesday at some point and I'll definitely get to talk to him on the phone Wednesday. I can do this without completely being a needy asshole! I know I can.

Really?

2010-09-16T08:53:00.001-04:00

I am in a psychiatrist's waiting room, waiting for a doctor's deposition. There is a special about the holocaust on the TV. Who thinks this is a good idea?

So this happened...

2010-09-15T16:13:00.003-04:00

I don't usually get requested to write about certain things. That's one of my favorite things about Mr. G (one of the 100's) is how he encourages me to write. He has given me writing tasks and has always read and supported my blog. Plus writing is so cathartic for me, it's my own form of therapy. And also, every once in a while, I'm even entertaining (if only to myself).

But there is something that happened a month or more back that Mr. G has mentioned I should blog about more than once. And it's not really like me to not jump on his suggestions at all! This is just a bit of a...(pun totally intended) sticky subject. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

This was back during a time I refer to as when Mr. G was breaking me (he had said it was more of a "breaking in" than breaking. I'm no fun broken.) And actually, when he gets back from holiday, I'm sure it will go back to this more controlled, more limited orgasms, more training, and the like. I know he got lenient with me because he was going away for holiday for two weeks. So, really, this "breaking in" period continues status quo when he returns, I'm sure.

But anyway, I'm pretty sure I had gone days...days and days, maybe even like five days without cumming. And I have to say, this blog is taking me forever to write. I'm such a dork and a record-keeper that I had to actually check my skype log and re-read this whole scene to recall it with better clarity. Funny how cumming like 10 times can blur the edges of one's memory. And then, reading the skype logs was like a freaking highlight reel of us playing. So then I had to go do my task and play (will describe task later, am staying on subject).

So this was a particularly hot scene for us to begin with. He had me spanking my tits with my hands and with a wooden spoon. And he was teasing me with my toy, having me put it in and take it out. He had me fucking myself, stop, start, that sort of thing. Well, he finally let me cum. And I probably had already cum two or three times when it happened.

I was on the couch, sort of kneeling/crouching in front of my lappie and web cam and I fucking squirted! I was so shocked at first, I thought I peed. But I knew I didn't pee and knew immediately as soon as I was done cumming what had happened. Well, this was a very very fucking intense scene. So after that first squirting orgasm, he had me keep playing and keep playing. I ended up squirting THREE times in a row.

Let me tell you. I have never squirted before in my life. And this isn't for lack of trying. I'll tell you, I've been masterbating for over 25 years. I've been watching porn for about 18 years. I'm a very picky porn watcher these days because most of it is shit. But I have gone through just about every category of kink and hardcore porn and watched at least a clip of it, just to see. And there was a time I was obsessed with squirting. I knew I could make myself if I just tried hard enough. I watched videos and attempted this no less than a half a dozen times, but to no avail.

I don't know if he just had me so turned on, something clicked. I don't know if it was the position or the toy. Realistically, it can't have been the toy because that friend has been with me for a number of years, used ridiculously often and this has never happened before. And he's had me so turned on, so worked up, in such a state that I could've rubbed my hand over my panties over my clit and cum so hard. He has definitely had me this turned on before and maybe even more so. There isn't a good measuring stick for being turned on. Well, whatever it was that night, it sure was messy and really fucking hot and totally bizarre.

Regarding the aforementioned need for pain

2010-09-14T23:03:00.004-04:00

It's not that I think I need to justify my desire for pain. Because, honestly, I don't care if it sounds "wrong" or "weird" that I crave pain sometimes as much as sexual pleasure. And no, I do NOT identify as a masochist. Because nine times out of ten, I want pain with pleasure, more so the pleasure than the pain. But sometimes, I just crave the sting and heat of a really wicked spanking. I want to feel like I just almost can't take it any longer and then take a little bit more.

Not to push myself, like I want to constantly test my boundaries, more of just...I think I'm craving his dominance. I can't put into words how it feels when he dominates me. But I can describe a spanking that I need. I can describe how much I want to feel his hands hold me across his lap and feel his hand spank my ass until it's so hot and red and I can't stop wiggling and making animal noises. I can't put into words how much I need to feel his presence in my life. But I can write about how he speaks to me and it affects me. And I miss talking to him. But that doesn't completely describe what I need right now.

Now, on a side note. I know I always want/enjoy more pain under certain conditions. I need more roughness when I'm frustrated or too turned on. A good scene (flogging, spanking, rough sex, use of many toys and implements, et cetera) is akin to a good massage. And subspace is like a deep meditation. The rush of endorphins and lust and all the good things pumping through your body don't hurt either.

I know that I am a junkie, and Mr. G is my drug. I'm going through withdrawal bad. And Mr. G was very good to me. He even gave me permission to play a set amount of times, and I watched some porn and have taken care of business a few times. But really, it's like sprinkling water from a watering can onto a forest fire. Please, know, I'm not being ungrateful. I am so thankful that he always takes such good care of me. And he really has been very generous in the orgasm department, to try and compensate for his being out of pocket.

But there's even more reasons that I crave Mr. G doing unspeakable (and really fucking hot) things to me until I can't tell you my name. I've really had one of those days. Here's the main menu at my pity party:
* I lost my kid's hamster. It's loose in the house somewhere and I'm sure one of the dogs will kill it. Her reaction shattered my heart into pieces.
* This is the longest I have gone without hearing from Mr. G. Rationally, I totally get it. Irrationally, I feel like bursting out crying and then running and throwing myself onto my bed face first and sobbing in classic over-dramatic style.
* I'm always out of sorts when T is away. I don't sleep well and spend the nights just sort of rattling around our house, trying to get sleepy. Or I take a pill and end up being a total zombie the first half of the next day.
* I'm having PMS so bad, if I was a horse, they'd probably put me down. (and usually, when I have any kind of a physical ailment, I am NOT horny and do NOT want more discomfort. But I think today qualifies as a day I really need pain because of all the other reasons I have listed.)
* This is actually the second time I've typed this blog (and I think the first was better written and WAY funnier, of course) because the first time around, my new blog-on-the-go iPhone app did a magic trick and made it disappear. And I've had to retype it from scratch.

And now, I think I will go make some kind of a sad music mix and go boil myself in a hot bubble bath.
Signing off,
Depression Girl

Have You Ever...

2010-09-14T13:09:00.001-04:00

Needed to just be held down and spanked? And spanked until you don't want to be spanked anymore? And then spanked some more? No? Maybe it's just me. There are days I would beg Him to use me so rough and today is one of those days.

My Inner Circle Grows

2010-09-10T20:32:00.001-04:00

I feel a little freer today. I actually "came out" to my cousin last night on the phone. And she was so accepting and cool (and even sweet enough to hear me blather on and on about Mr. G and how amazing he is) that it was such an amazing experience. Truly best case scenario as far as coming out about BDSM lifestyle choices to a family member/friend.

And it's not terribly surprising really. (After talking a bit she chided me for keeping it from her for so long) My cousin is actually the one who first taught me about the wonderful world of BDSM. She and I were roommates back in the day and we had lots of fun, drunken adventures. We also shared porn (mostly erotica type stuff) and stories with one another. She was also my "if I die, please dispose of my porn and toys before my parents come to get my stuff" person. (which, personally, I think is more important than your spare house key friend)

So it's funny that the person who I began my kinky and alternative lifestyle education with is the first vanilla person in my life that I've ever "come out" to. And I just feel like...a weight has been lifted off me a little. Someone who loves me and has known me since I was in diapers now knows I'm Mr. G's slave. I just feel a little less phony. I feel a little less isolated from my people who love me.

And I also feel like I wish my cousin would get on collarme and find herself a nice Dominant! She (and this is my own unprofessional Dr. Phil-like opinion) is doing what I used to do before I really came into my own as a sub (and then married a sub, so go figure) and is dating guys who are....aggressive, possessive, controlling (to a degree) but not Dominant. She gets to be the serving, nurturing woman but doesn't get to have the proper power exchange (or satisfaction of sub space and all that) that comes with a true BDSM type relationship. So I'm hoping my recent confession and her reading my blog and remembering how amazing *giving* yourself to someone is will inspire her to find herself something a little more fulfilling.

Oh and yay! Now that she said she'll keep reading my blog, my readership is up to three!

The Elephant Skeleton In My Closet

2010-09-10T11:20:00.000-04:00

***This is a repost from my old blog.***

Let me state that this blog post is NOT written for sympathy. If I get a single “Oh, honey, I'm so sorry” comment, I will block you and you will never be allowed to comment again. I'm serious. I have mourned this and healed from it and moved on. I still believe I'm one of the luckiest girls in the world and I lead a pretty charmed life.

I, also, realize that there are lots of huge changes going on in my world right now and it's brought up a lot of emotions and such. Ever since T and I joined collarme.com, it's sort of been in the back of my head, that I'm going to have to deal with this (or at least talk about it). I've been hoping I don't run into anyone I knew from back then. And hoping that if i do, no one tries to talk about the past. Time heals for sure. And I really believe that M sent me T, sort of like he's my guardian angel. Because T is the best thing that's ever happened to me and I don't think I would've/could've wanted to know T if it hadn't been for M. (***as an addendum, this is a post I wrote a few months ago. I also don't think I could be the slave to Mr.G that I am now if I hadn't experienced everything in my past. I am who I am because of what I've been through.)

So let me just jump right into it. I was dabbling in the local scene. I had moved back to the area and was big into online and chatrooms and the like. There was a local munch and local chatrooms and I started taking part. I met some really cool people, some scary people, and a lot of overweight, unhappy, and redneck-y people. (sorry, I'm not this much of an asshole, but it's true) Then I met M.

First we chatted online for a bit. He was apparently newly single (his actual divorce wasn't finalized yet but he'd been living separately for months) and VERY high on the local bachelor market. There were a bunch of subbies buzzing around him.

When we met face to face for the first time, I remember thinking he's actually even cuter than his picture! We hit it off bigtime. He pretty much stopped talking to all the other subs as soon as we met face to face. There was so much chemistry. I remember the first time I had either no clothes or little clothes on in his presence. I was getting into my friend's hot tub and his hand just grazed my back, my shoulder actually and I swear there was electricity. We played this little game where he just barely touched me (now that I think about it, I know I had no top on because he was almost touching my nipples and I felt like they were going to jump off my chest) and everyone around was like, wow. That's intense.

And it was. I fell super hard for him. He was definitely nothing like I'd ever known before. This was during my period of meeting super nice Dom guys, just recently down on their luck in one way, shape or form. And M was no different. The divorce and some domestic crap had caused trouble at his work and he had one of the most stressful jobs a human being can have. But he and I had so much fun. We talked on the phone for hours and hours. We would chat online every night we weren't together. We spent every weekend together (we were living about an hour and a half away from one another). We went to a bdsm club a few times. We went to a couple house parties and played. And minus the nasty subs who were jealous and catty because I'd landed him, I felt like we were doing amazingly well, with each other and within the local scene (which he and his soon-to-be ex wife had also been a part of). We even had people say to us afterwards (I'm not bragging, I'm just trying to explain how intense it was) that watching he and I play was some of the hottest they'd ever seen. He and I just really connected.

We had even gotten to the point where he was going to “collar me.” He had this leather work guy measure my neck and he described exactly what he wanted made. We were going to have a collaring ceremony and everything. We hadn't specifically calendared it, but it was going to happen soon.

And then, three days before Thanksgiving, I get a call from his roommate. I was driving home from work and still don't know how I got home. He told me M had killed himself the night before. He shot himself in the head in his vehicle on a dead-end road. He even read his suicide note to me. (I was mentioned and I don't even remember what it said, something like “I know you'll find what you really need” or something of the sort.

So, needless to say. I know what it feels like to have a cannonball blown through the middle of my body. I'm pretty sure I was in shock for months. I only took a week off from work but then had to pick myself up and get back to it. I definitely had a mourning period for some time. And not only did I lose him, but then everything in the local scene had lost its fun for me. I felt like a widow and everyone felt so sorry for me. I had people say so many kind things to me but hearing their sadness (for my loss or theirs, he was very liked within the community) only made everything worse.

I didn't completely give upon on the local scene immediately. I even had a few relationships with some men after M but before T. I found that now I was only playing with subs who would switch. I didn't want to Domme them, I always seemed to force them to Dom me. I also had a fling with a local Dom who, for the LIFE of me, I can't figure out his appeal (Ms. T can attest to this. He really is a smarmy little weasle of a guy) but he could look at me and I wanted to be naked and kneeling. There was one fellow who was so much fun to play with but he had been a good friend of M's and it became evident that he and I had fun together but weren't long-term relationship material.

And then I was lucky enough to meet T. And I'll tell that story some other time. And T is my rock of Gibraltar. I have never felt so safe and so sure of who I am to him and who he is to me. And the funny thing is, due to recent developments in T's life, I know even more that his stick-to-it-ness is stronger than ever.

But I guess I needed to talk about this. Put it out there in the universe so maybe now I can move on. It's one of the reasons why I don't even really look at local Doms. I don't want to run into an “old friend” or anything of the sort. I need this. T needs this. We are loving letting our inner sluts/subs out of the closet. But being so vulnerable, getting into philosophical discussions with my Friend, as well as playing and being a slut for Him has made me realize I'm dealing with some seriously deep shit.

So yeah. I have some emtional baggage, apparently. I have this irrational fear of being left. I'm working on it by writing this. By putting it out there in the universe and saying I survived this to be a better, stronger person.

And if anyone wonders if I ever thought about ending my life. I'll answer that, too. Never. Not for one second. And it's not some deep religious belief or anything like that. I just know that I'm here for a reason and it's not for me to decide when I'm done. Even when things were the bleakest, when I woke up in the morning and felt like a robot, just going through the motions, suicide was never ever an option for me. I eventually got to a pretty good place of knowing that what M did was for reasons that had nothing to do with me. I had talked to him for two hours the night he shot himself and couldn't have possibly “been there” any more for him. I learned the fucking hard lesson that you don't cause other people's actions. We all make our own choices. I never felt guilty or responsible for his death because I know I was the only happiness he had in the last few months of his life. And for that and that life I've gotten to lead since then, I'm thankful.

Day 3

2010-09-09T12:54:00.000-04:00

The world always seems less catastrophic after a few good cums, I must admit. I still miss my Master, still hate knowing I have *so* many days ahead of not hearing his voice. The worst part is, I know his trip is only 14 days, but I realized I won't get to speak to him until the 15th day...so that was a fun realization. Something about counting days on a calendar is apparently too difficult for me. But realistically, do I count that as 14 days that I ache for him, or count that next day, also, so it's 15? It's like a fucking word problem. I last spoke with him on Monday, the 6th. I will next speak to him on Wednesday, the 22nd. So how many days is that? Jesus, why is that so complicated? It's like time travel. If I go back in time, do I see me in the past? And if so, how many "me's" are there? And can I go back and tell the 20-year-old me to adore my body because it's only going downhill from there?

Just kidding. Actually, I am the closest to my goal weight/fitness level I have been in my adult life! I can't count late teens/early 20's as being in good fitness and health just because I was skinnier, since I smoked cigarettes for nine years. Gross. And back then, I drank way too much alcohol and imbibed in way too many illicit drugs. I wasn't very good to myself in general.

I take way better care of myself now that I am Mr. G's girl, too. Being happy and comfortably married had let me get a little too soft. Plus, it helps that Mr. G trains. The fact that he keeps his fitness level up makes me want to ramp mine up. I don't want to be huffing and puffing and saying, "Let me catch my breath, sir." That's so unsexy. And he trains with a trainer. So it's not like he does a few sit-ups and push-ups and calls it a day. I just need to take the time to push myself a little farther every day. And I promised to use these days that he's away to my benefit; working hard, making good money, spending quality time with the family, and working out and staying in the mindset that I'm his slave and he may very well have me weigh in when he gets back from holiday to see if I've stuck with the plan.

Plus, I'm so excited to see my friend, Ms. T. She's coming to visit next weekend and I cannot wait! I can't believe it's been over THREE years since we've hung out in person. I guess because we talk on the phone and text so much, it doesn't seem like it's been that long. Plus, I have a busy weekend planned for this weekend, too. So I am not being depression girl (Mr. G's nickname for me when I'm pouty) MOST of the time. I promised myself I'd let myself have a little time each day to miss him, ache for him, be sad and then go back to my day.

I want to end my blog quoting Shakespeare. I have to say, I really loathe poetry. But sometimes, words come together in a quintessential way that is just about perfect.

Sonnet 57

Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend,
Nor services to do, till you require.
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour
When you have bid your servant once adieu;
Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,
But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought
Save, where you are how happy you make those.
So true a fool is love that in your will,
Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill.

Filler

2010-09-08T16:01:00.000-04:00

I am cleaning out my previous blog and recycling some posts. Mostly because I'm lazy and want more posts on this blog. But also because when I write something, I sometimes become attached to it and want more people to read it. So I'm going to post a couple little fiction items I wrote and one past journal entry.

I feel naked posting without first sending it to Mr. G to read. He is on holiday for the next two weeks and he has given me a blanket okay to post these old posts as well as anything I see fit to post. But at the same time, I feel weird not having him okay it first. Funny how rules and the way things are done become habit very quickly in my world.

If I knew even the tiniest bit about web design I would be so much happier with my blog. There are little tweaks that truly make me crazy that I can't figure out how to tweak. And all my IT people (minus T who looked at it while half asleep last night and said "good luck with that") are vanilla! Boo!

So anyway, wish me luck. I only have 13 more days to go without hearing His voice. I realize just HOW spoiled I am. I'm so lucky that we can speak on the phone or via skype so often. It's like some nights, I get to spend all night with him. And He's a responsible Master. He's emailing me and making sure I'm staying busy because idle hands.....(creep into my panties and waste an afternoon)

Die-cot-oh-me (phonetics)

2010-08-30T20:11:00.001-04:00

Dichotomy is one of my favorite words. I am such a word nerd that, yes, I have favorites. Sometimes, when someone uses one of my favorite words, it just immediately puts me in a good mood or brings a smile to my face. My Master has increased my favorite word list exponentially. And I don't even mean naughty, wicked words that make my knees weak, my mouth dry, and my pussy soaking wet. That, I believe, is a completely different blog. No, I'm just talking about learning all his British words for things and funny, colorful sayings (I've noticed they use "piss" in many, many different contexts!)

Back to the point of this blog. Me loving dichotomy. I love wearing a boring, conservative suit for work and with it, a super hot pair of heels. I love that the other night, I went out for dinner with my vanilla friend and my Master made me put a toy inside my pussy to remind me of him the entire time. Nothing like talking about kids, work, husbands, et cetera, and to move in my seat, feel the toy move in and out of me and I tried my best not to moan or let my eyes roll back in my head, or grab my nipples hard.....no I did none of that.

And here lately, just speaking has been a double-edged sword for me. Sometimes I speak so quickly (and this can be my fingers speaking for me, as well) that I get myself in trouble because I say the first ridiculous thing that pops into my head and end up wishing I'd had a gag in my mouth (or fingercuffs, I suppose? for the stupid shit I say in IM/text) It's unbelievable how much I love words and how often they betray me and come out so fucking completely wrong.

And at the other end of the spectrum, there are so many times I WANT to say something and can't. For example, I find myself longing to say things to complete strangers, I want to say how "my Master" said that Stella Artois beer is called wife beater and here I thought it was kind of a classy beer. I want to tell all my friends at work how I cannot fucking WAIT to be with my Master, get to spend a week with him, get to be the slut and the slave that I know I need to be in order to feel like I'm truly living the life I was meant to lead.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I'm not also meant to lead the stable, busy, comfortable, conservative life that I lead on a day-to-day basis. I just want to immerse myself in my slave life. I want to truly feel like his prized possession. (don't get me wrong. Mr. G does an AMAZING long-distance job. I do truly feel as though I'm his. He makes sure somehow, in some way, I feel special and treasured and wanted every single day.) I just haven't really physically trusted someone besides T with my life, my body, my.....innermost vulnerable me....in a *really* stupidly long time. Playing with/for Mr. G remotely as I have, has most certainly affected me. I don't know if other people can go into sub space when they're not physically *with* their Master, but I most certainly can. I lose the ability to speak, sometimes to the point of just breathing so hard, I sound mid-workout. But the idea of literally being at my Master's whim for like....12 straight hours or something....Jesus, that actually almost excites me to the point of pure terror. And to bring this blog full circle, I've, once again, got dichotomy.

Island in the Sun

2010-08-21T01:23:00.000-04:00

Robinson Crusoe was one of my favorite books growing up. I think it was the sense of adventure. But at the same time, I love also knowing how things are going to work out. Adventures are truly scary sometimes, all kinds of new and different things happening. And don't get me wrong, I love excitement. But I find that I also need reassurances that everything is going to be all right. Reminds me of a great saying I saw on a corkboard at my office, "Everything will be all right in the end. If it's not all right, it's not the end." And truly, everything *is* all right, even though nothing is ending, things are just evolving...but I digress.

What I meant to be talking about was being on a deserted island. Because that's what I feel like today. Granted, I get Master more than any slave could ever expect. He is so thoughtful and goes out of his way to *show* me how important I am to him. And that means more than any words anyone could utter. But even so, Mr. G has his own busy life, leaving me lots and lots of time on my own, sometimes too much time to think.

Plus, my oh so thoughtful and generous (I'm not just kissing your ass, either, Sir. I mean this!) Master let me cum like a bazillion times last night. And said there were more forthcoming this weekend whilst T is away (to comfort me, I'm sure, and that's so awesome that he takes care of me like that) So I think after feeling SOOOO good....so high....it even lasted through the night into this morning. Then I started to feel the other side of feeling euphoric. I started to feel a little like...inexplicable dread. I know it's irrational and not based in reason. I know sometimes it happens after I feel sooooo good. But that doesn't stop me from getting all in my head and neurotic and starting to think daft (working on my proper English) thoughts.

And usually, I have T to bounce things off of. He and I are so technologically connected, it's probably not a good thing. We usually chat all day every day. And I promised myself I wasn't going to disturb him with my own frivolous nonsense this weekend.

And before I immersed myself into being His Girl, i used to have at least a couple girlfriends that I'd call or IM with on a regular basis. (And I know you're here, MsT, but I feel dumb having the *same* conversations with you over and over where i say stupid irrational things and you laugh and say snap out of it) And now, seriously, I feel so different from my former vanilla self. I don't even feel like I have anything in common with anyone anymore. All I want to do is talk to or about my Master. Luckily, he enjoys that I'm obsessed with him. And I have also found that I can keep stalker girl at bay for a weekend at a time, having visited some relatives lately.

But I don't sit and gab with my relatives as much as I do with my girlfriends. Or used to, that is. The worst part is, I'm proud of my life now. I'm (minus this deserted island phenomenon) so ridiculously happy. My life is fuller than it's ever been. I feel more myself and more fulfilled than I ever really could have imagined. I feel like it's dampened a bit by not having anyone to share it with. Usually when something good happens in my life, I have a whole bunch of people around me, celebrating with me. And granted, I had already really drifted away from my sister and most of my closest friends in general before T & I turned our lives into what they were meant to be.

And honestly, if I didn't think I'd lose everyone in my life that loves me (and also judges me), I'd tell everyone, let the chips fall where they may. I feel like if you love me, you love me being happy, living my best possible life. But vanilla's don't get the inherent need a true slave or a true Master feels when the inner tuning fork is whacked and you know deep in your soul who and what you are. To them, it's cheating on your spouse. And sexual deviance. And I don't see the need to ruin my family's network of people that love and care for them just for my own selfish and childish need to brag about my amazing Master. Or have bowling double dates or something.

And MsT had mentioned Fetlife, but honestly, I LOATHE forums. When I have to read something and it's a "thread" type format, I'm instantly not interested. Add to that, I hate most people because they're opinionated idiots who judge me and everyone else. Even in the BDSM lifestyle, there's a wide range of opinions on things and I hear enough fucking debating at work every day. So those kinds of anti-social thoughts don't really lend toward having a big group of people I can talk to on a daily or semi regular basis.
(And once again, Ms. T, I know I can call you, but you don't ever call me either so don't guilt me!)

And I know I'm complaining. And I'm saying I'm the happiest I've ever been. And the cool part is, I'm allowed. I'm a chick. I'm complicated. I can feel diametrically opposed emotions simultaneously. Luckily, I do have a busy life and don't have tons of time to be all Woody Allen neurotic and worry myself into a total panic attack. Plus, my Master really does always know exactly what I need to hear at any given moment and says it.

Compounding this isolation feeling, my job is such that there are many days I work at home. Don't get me wrong, I love this aspect of my job. I can make more money most days, in my pajamas, sitting on my couch, than lots of people make sitting in a cubicle in an office all day. But this definitely adds to my not having very many social outlets. Not that I would talk about this with people I work with anyway. It just adds to the deserted island feel.

And also, this is self-imposed. But I hate lying. So weekends T is away, I just hunker down and avoid/ignore people. I would rather hide from people for a weekend than have to lie and feel awkward about it. So even people that I might let myself have dinner with or swim in the pool with, I avoid like the plague.

And I know in my heart that T is happy and he's not going anywhere. And the time he spends away is just giving me my time going to England. And I want that for he and I so badly. I want us fulfilled. I want all of us involved (T & I and our Significant Others) to get to live the lives we were meant to live. We *all* deserve this kind of happiness. I just wish i had someone else in my life, who was happy for us and could relate, someone who leads a more BDSM life. Someone I could hang out with, with Mr. G. And someone who would be happy for me and encouraging. I guess right now that person just has to be me. Yay, me!

Spontaneous Combustion

2010-08-19T17:42:00.003-04:00

As I have already stated, my Master is teaching me the fine art of life without cumming. (I know, sir, I know. A week is not an eternity like I make it out to be) At least he has told me there's an end to my waiting, given me a day. So now I know I can make it because I am his good girl and it's only one more day. (and I've learned that begging, whining and crying about it either disappoints him or pleases him in a sadistic way, so why be pathetic?)

But in the meantime, he pushed *all* the right buttons on the phone yesterday. I mean to say....I was panting and moaning. I clenched my thighs together so tight for so long, before long they were shaking. I certainly don't need a thighmaster workout gadget. All I need is a week without cumming and my Master whispering wicked, wonderful things in my ear. I honestly got so hot and out of control bothered, I think I could've cum without physically touching my pussy. (this has happened to me before, once in a wet dream and some other unmentionable time) I really was so out of it, I almost felt....relieved afterwards. Even though I didn't actually have an orgasm, i felt like being soooooo turned on, reduced to rubble; i.e. completely unable to form words or do anything but moan and pant in his ear while I clenched my thighs together and writhed around on my couch, one hand holding the phone to my head, the other holding onto the other side of my hair/head so that my hand wouldn't stray into my pants!

Fuck me. Seriously. Telling me things like he's going to inspect me after washing, different ways he's going to violate my various holes, rude, wonderfully fucking amazing things. These are things I've fantasized and written erotica and dreamt about. And it's not like he's got some checklist of my wants and he's just running through the script. That's the beauty part. Our wants/needs in the BDSM realm just really pretty much line up. We're so lucky in the compatibility department.

And add to these things that I desire more than another breath of air, the fact that these dirty, naughty things are being spoken by his amazingly sexy voice. (I'm so auditorially stimulated...for most men and probably some women, it's about the visual, but for me, it's the sounds) God damn it. I'm about to clench my thighs just typing it now. And my inner thighs are a bit sore, I'll tell you. So this is a good thing. Getting to feel like I'm going to explode, (so close to cumming, it's almost like you're right on the edge and just hanging there) getting to connect with him in an intimate and fucking filthy way, AND getting much more toned inner thighs! It's a win, win, win situation.

And this weekend is my weekend alone. I am so happy for T and MsJ, though. And I look at it like I am earning my time with him. Then any inconveniences always seem worth it. Plus, I'm so well taken care of by my Master. Even though we both have busy lives and there's a five-hour time difference, I think it works in our favor because we both get plenty of homelife time AND we get lots of alone time with each other, as well. If I lived there or he lived here, I don't think I'd want to work or do my duties here at this house. I'd just want to "follow" Mr. G fulltime. And thank Allah (ha ha) for modern technology. Thanks to virtual phone numbers, our phone calls are practically free!! Life is good....

A Learning Curve

2010-08-17T17:21:00.001-04:00

I recognize that with every fantastic reward, there is always sacrifice. You don't get where you want to go in life without paying some sort of a price. And nothing worth having isn't worth a little struggle to get. I could be talking about any number of things. Working out, having a more fit physique. Or working hard and getting ahead in your career and making lots more money. But instead, I'm talking about being a good slave to my Master and being obedient and not thinking about cumming 45,000 times a day.

I admit. I have a problem. I'm addicted to masturbating. I've been doing it almost every single day since I was 12. And probably, really, most days more than once. And when I say masturbating, I don't even just mean rubbing one out. I pretty much would cum between 4-12 times a day. Every. Day. And okay, I'll admit, seeing those numbers put in front of me like that does make me see that's a bit excessive. I mean, I realized not that long ago that not every woman even really wants to cum every day. (I was shocked at that!) And I also know that playing with myself was my go-to stress reliever, distraction from difficulties, and just generally what I do when I'm bored or can't sleep.

My Master is teaching me some very important lessons. One of which is I'm a terribly selfish girl and I need to be more concerned with His sexual satisfaction and His contentment than my own. And it's true. I do want to make him cum every single day. Multiple times a day. And maybe then I could have a play, too. I realize this may seem like an ulterior motive and I'm not saying I want him to cum SO I can cum. Merely that I think we should both cum a few times a day. The world would be a better place if everyone had a few more orgasms. I know it sure puts me in a good mood and makes me less inclined to punch people in the neck.

But it's also come to my attention how MUCH TIME I've been wasting playing every day. Even if I only stop my day for ten minutes here or fifteen minutes there. A couple of those little mini sessions a day and I'm looking at close to an hour. And of course, after a good solo play session, I'm not exactly at peak performance as far as brain function and efficiency, so you have to factor in the I've just cum four times and I'm lazy syndrome.

And I love giving Mr. G control over me. I love who I am, being his. I'm not only a less self-indulgent person, I also just generally take better care of myself. I don't drink too much or eat junk food nearly as often. I am conscious of how I present myself, knowing I represent Him in the world now. And I am more conscious about not wanting to be rude. (The fact that Mr.G is British and terribly polite helps. I am, in fact, a loud, rude American and I hate that about myself. I wish I could be quiet and demure, but that's not really my personality. But I do find myself toning down quite a bit and not interrupting people even half as much as I used to.)

But I have been struggling with this orgasm thing. And don't get me wrong. My Master is a generous man. He definitely could be cruel and literally break me by never letting me cum again. Or saying I can only cum when I'm *with* him (i.e. a few weeks a year or so) But even so, just going from that cumming as many times as I want a day to cumming only when he says I may is still very difficult for me. I want to be his good girl more than anything in the world. And I love when he gives me tasks to do, to improve myself as a person and as his slave. I feel so weak and slutty when I admit to him that I've not even been able to practice kneeling for him because I didn't trust myself to get naked or anywhere near my toys. And he knows I'm weak and have no self control. That's why he's trying to help me with this. But it's like whenever you pray for patience, then everything in the universe works to test your patience to show you how much patience you truly have.

It's just so odd for me. I don't know how else to say it, but odd. Because on the one hand, he reduces me to a quivering mass of flesh that just surrounds holes that need filling by him. He can say something to me that makes me want to take my clothes off and beg him to fuck me now, please. Just his control over me, telling me I can't cum unless he says I can, turns me on! Now, isn't that the shit. I can't cum, but being told I can't only makes me want to more. And I hate hearing the disappointment in his voice when I talk about wanting to cum. And he's right, it's just cumming. It's not like he's said I can't drink water ever again or I can't eat solid food ever again or something. But I can get myself worked up into a good tizzy, wanting to so badly, obsessing over it, really. Almost like a food addict, planning my next meal. I wonder when and how he may let me cum next. I know this sounds pathetic and sad and I acknowledge that. I'm lucky to have Mr. G in my life, helping me realize there's more to life than orgasms.

Isn't that ironic? I am leading what most would say is an alternative sexual lifestyle, only to be learning the lesson that sex isn't everything. I just wish exercising was as cathartic as cumming. I've been trying to convince myself that a good workout is just as rewarding as a good play, even more so. My pussy seems to disagree. But, alas, my pussy doesn't get to have a say anymore, unless it's merely, "Thank you, sir."

Time to start the countdown clock....

2010-08-15T23:00:00.002-04:00

66 days. Wow. In 66 days I will spend a week with my Master. This is so exciting, intense, amazing. I can hardly believe it. And yet, I'm not surprised, I knew from the moment I fell for Mr. G that I would be making a trip across the ocean to kneel at his feet and present myself to him properly. But at the same time, having an itinerary and reservation and everything makes it all so very real.

And it feels so real. I know there are a lot of D/s type relationships out there that are internet only or internet and phone only and I'm sure they feel very real, as well. But what I feel for my Master has sort of altered my entire existence. It has been such a short time and yet I feel like he knows me better than most people that have known me all my life. He is so in tune with my feelings and emotions it's actually frightening sometimes. But at the same time, it's so comforting. Times when I'm just not quite right and I think he's busy and unreachable and then he's online asking me “are you okay?” it's truly mind boggling. Because I wasn't okay and I really needed him. And then when I realize I can't think of exactly what, if anything at all, I needed to say to him he said “it's okay. You just needed me to be here.” and that was exactly it. And that one example is the perfect example of how he gets me and gives me exactly what I need even when I don't even know what it is that I need.

I probably think about him more than a nun thinks about Jesus. I also look at his pictures and reread his emails way, way too much. And then I feel silly doing these things. But when I tell him I've read his emails three times that day, he's like “oh, that's all?” and I realize in our relationship, I'm allowed to be obsessed with him, encouraged even. And it's all new again for me. I've been married to T for so long and our relationship is/was so different, I was never his stalker. (Mr. G and I have decided his follower sounds much less criminal) So feeling intense love, wanting to talk to him or look at him or hear his voice every single day and feeling a bit like a druggie when I get five hours of webcam, only to find myself pouting the next day because I don't get more than a dozen emails is all still new feelings for me. And I'm spoiled. I know this. I'm lucky that I get so much of his time. He's incredibly busy! Oh, and that pesky five hour time difference. It's so funny that one the one hand, I worry tremendously about his lack of sleep but then pout if he's tired and I don't get to chat or webcam with him at night.

So, refocusing on what I started this blog saying. I have 66 days to make my ass smaller, my kneel prettier and to wait oh-so-patiently to be touched by this Master who I worship.

By Way of Introduction

2010-08-13T19:27:00.002-04:00

Please, allow my to introduce myself. I'm K, His girl. I'm your average 38-year-old, with a busy career and very full family life. I am happily married and have a pretty fun, normal home life. I also have given myself to my Master, who is also very busy with work and his family life. He also happens to live on another continent from me. Sound complicated? Well, I suppose it is and it's not. It's very simple, really. My Master and I discovered that even with our fantastic family lives, we were missing something. For me, it was having someone to serve, someone to own me, someone to whom I'm always accountable. (for him, it was having all this from the opposite perspective.)

So my husband and I are both natural slaves (submissives, slaves, I don't get all hung up on the vernacular. I use the words I like.) T and I met after we had each delved a bit into the local BDSM scene. He really only went to like a munch and a club. I was pretty involved in the local scene for over a year, had a couple M/s relationships (I will talk more about this later. This is way more involved than your simple introductory blog. And I've already written a story a while back and I may just make it a post here on this blog, too.) So a mutual friend introduced us (T & I), saying she knew we were both submissive, but we were two of the nicest people she knew and she wanted to be a matchmaker. She was right. We've been happily together for the last eleven years, married for the last seven years.

Then a few months back, T and I were talking. We were discussing missing having BDSM in our lives. We've always had a fantastic sex life, but it was really just kinky sex. One of us would “top” the other and one of us would “bottom”. But we started discussing the idea of serving other people. We had long discussions about what we could deal with, jealousies, insecurites, (mostly all mine.) And lucky for us, we weren't single long. He and his Domina and me and my Master have both roughly been together about a month. And minus completely insane, irrational and sometimes really laughable thoughts, it hasn't been as complicated as one might think.

I also know in my heart and soul that I have never felt more fulfilled, more alive in my own skin, more apart of my own life. I really feel like finally now I am living the life I was meant to be living. And I also haven't ever seen T so happy. I think it makes us better people all the way around, better spouses, better parents, better at our jobs and better people in the world. We are both much less selfish, whether we're following the orders of our owners or just trying very hard to be the very best we can be, to represent them well in the world and maybe even make them feel proud to own us. I love seeing my husband have someone share all of his kinks and such and enjoy them with him to perfection. I love that he has everything he needs and I can see it on him most days. He seems more himself, too. It's not just me.

I am about to book my first trip to go spend a week with my Master in the UK. I'm so excited, I might spontaneously combust! I also am excited, as I have roughly 9.5 weeks to get my ass in the best shape of my life. Biggest Loser workout/diet, here I come! Seriously, the thought of being naked in front of my Sir (he's seen me on webcam enough that he knows what I look like, but still....) makes me want to start doing crunches right here as I type! Talk about your diet/exercise motivator!

I also want to post a little bit of my fiction. I want this blog to be a journal, an outlet, maybe even a community for me. I love reading the blogs I've discovered so far and once I am not obsessively looking at plane tickets, I might have time to read/write a little more. I need to feel that I'm not doing this alone. I love my life but it's really weird also, having this double life. I feel like a superhero. By day, I'm Clark Kent, by night, not so much Superman as this super naughty slave girl, having a better sex life and more satisfacation in that respect than probably 90% of married women! But all I think and want to talk about is Him (T is used to this at this point and pastes on his smile and nods) and I only have one girlfriend (Love you, Ms. T!!) who I can talk to about anything nonvanilla. So I feel like I don't want my old girlfriends anymore. I want new ones. Hopefully I'll meet some through this blog. I could use some good girl time...