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You asked for this (2)
What the fuck have I done?
I'm in too deep this time.
I should just tap out and stop now.
But I asked for this.
But She won't let anything bad happen. She said so. She never has. This woman has gotten under my skin deeper that I ever thought possible. She warned me. She was completely upfront that she thought the most dangerous toy in her arsenal by far was her her deep understanding of what it meant to submit. She has done it for over a decade and continues to do it everyday to her beloved owner. She was right. She gets me and she uses it. Well.
But I asked for this.
What the hell is everyone doing? Fucking blindfold! Did we come here to play or fucking throw a brunch complete with Bloody Mary's? At least the fire is warm. She seems happy....completely at ease. She's at home here with them. I wonder if I will ever know her like they seem to? Maybe I shouldn't want to. Yes. Detached is definitely better. Yes.
Where is she? Surely she isn't going to just leave me here all morning.
But I asked for this.
The clip of my leash startled me from my thoughts. Fuck! Okay, time to make her proud. Kneel up....one measured motion...back straight....knees apart...access....always ready...always.....
"Are you thirsty, pet?" Oh it's her! Mmmmmm water. It's like she knows not to make it too cold for my overly sensitive teeth. How does she always fucking know? Annnnd up. Here we go. Ugh how can she make me kneel in front of them?! They are probably smirking from their damn chairs. I can't even imagine what th......"Mouth." Jesus Christ how can she will me do do this without me even thinking? I'm just a little dog to her. What was that dog that socialite used to carry in her purse? A chihuahua or something? Oh sweet Jesus this woman can cook! She must have culinary training because how can goat cheese be both crispy and soft at the same time? That's tangy though damn. Ooooo berries! She knows I love ber....her! She's feeding me with her fingers! I wonder if they can see my sex swelling? Oh my god. She's so gentle...so sweet....so....everything and....Did she feel my tongue? Fuck. What's happening? Don't leave me here alone again just let me go where you are please....I will be good. You know I will just....please....I....you just can't....
But I asked for this.
Is that scotch? Wait. I could use a little of that too you know people! A little to take the edge off of my....shit. Wait. No. Too much. Too fast. Too....standing? Like This? Bent over like.....what the actual fuck? Okay get a grip. You are just bent over a table (?!) and shackled down naked. No biggie. Yup. Totally fine. Alone. Again. Fuuuuck! Please come back, Miss. Please. This is too much so please Please please. Shit.
But I asked for this.
"My lady?!" Dude. The fuck she is! You cocky bastard just wait until I'm untied I will show you EXACTLY whose lady she.....of course she smokes cigars. Ugh this woman! She never ceases to ama.....ah. AHHHH! Easy wait oh god. Miss? Miss please let me hear your voice!
Yes kiss me again...wait. God dude how do you fit this thing in your jock? Hmmmm. Thick but not........
Oh.
fuck.
me.
How can this tiny woman swing a cane so fucking......
Fuck!
Wait.
Keep it together. Remember what she said. They can use me but only she will beat me. I'm hers. She's mine. I'm hers.
Wait! Please!
OW!
Wait can't I just.....
Jesus!
I'm hers. I'm hers. I'm.....
But I asked for this.
Yeah, yeah I did. It pleases her so I'm going to take every stripe she wants to give me and ....wait a minute. Those aren't her hands. They're too big to be hers. Fuck.
But I asked for this.
I asked for this.
Fuck me I actually asked for this.
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You asked for this.
I lead you carefully out of the car. The blindfold is bothering you. It has for about 90 miles now. As you make your way carefully up the steps I see you inhaling deeply. You cannot quite figure out if the air has the piney crispness of the mountains or the slight hint of salt from a nearby sea. I lead you straight in and finally remove the blindfold once you are confined in the master bathroom. Your instructions are to strip down, clean up and then knock on the door. At no time are you to move freely through this house much less be clothed. Your mobility belongs to me as does your naked body.
You asked for this.
You strip down and enjoy stretching; your body stiff from the journey. You stop just before you turn the shower on. Listening. You faintly hear bags being unzipped, firewood being coaxed to burn and paper grocery sacks being emptied. You zero in on my voice and your heart beats faster. My lone soprano in a chorus of baritone. You take a deep breath and turn the water on.
You asked for this.
I hear your quiet knock. I want to respond immediately but I don't. It's better for you if I leave you alone in your thoughts a bit. I finish my task and then open the door to the bathroom. Your eyes lock onto mine filled with relief...panic....all at the same time. I step close enough for you to feel my breath on your cheek but I do not touch you. I hold open your leather collar and you step into it. Always the obedient one! I smile a smile of pride that you will never see as I buckle it. The click of the lock makes you shiver. It is only after I have once again laid claim to your sight that I speak to you. "Are you hungry, pet? I will be feeding you soon." You nod and nervously shift your hands, unsure what to do with them. I take one and gently place it on my cheek so you can feel me. I can see the calm wash over you. "I've got you, baby. I've got you."
You asked for this.
I deposit you on a pallet of blankets topped with a soft faux fur near the fire. You settle in and curl up but your head betrays your rest as it turns slightly. You are perfectly alert and zeroed in on the sounds. The fire is warm on your body and its crackling is comforting. You hear dishes on tables.....a knife moving swiftly through the crunchiness of....something.....ice dropping into glasses.....the laughter of strangers who are catching up with one another after being too long apart. In all of this you hear the underlying familiarity of the group but you are seperate from it. It makes you anxious to feel so removed. So insignificant.
You asked for this.
I clip a short looped leash to your collar and with the slightest of pressure you kneel up on your knees. I resist my hands reflex to reach between your spread thighs to touch your sex. "Are you thirsty, pet?" I ask as I lift a glass of cool water to your lips. I watch your throat convulse as you drink deeply. I lead you to your place beside my chair and you kneel perfectly still. Again that smile of pride befalls my lips as eyebrows are raised and nods of impressed approval are given around the table. Toasts to precious friends, old scotch and general debauchery are raised and met with the clinking of glasses and good cheer in several languages.
You asked for this.
You open your mouth almost before my command is given. You savor the fluffy bite of omelette that I feed you delicately. Over and over my fork is brought forth to deliver warm fluffy eggs....soft cloud like bits of warm cheese.....vegetables perfectly saut? just before losing their crispness......bits of warm baguette smeared with salty fresh butter. Another cool drink of water is followed by sweet ripe berries and you steal the opportunity to let your tongue graze my fingers. You lose yourself in how I care for you. Then suddenly you are brought back to reality as your ears are assaulted by the scraping of chairs pushed back on the wood floor. Dishes are quickly stacked as you hear the distinct sound of a chrystal decanter opened. You smell scotch. The good stuff. It does not surprise you, this level of quality and attention to detail. You have grown used to it. It only rarely intimidates you now.
You asked for this.
I gently pull your lead and you stand. I am still in awe of just how beautiful your body is. Like a perfectly molded sculpture. I lead you gently across the room and place your upper body across the sturdy table. Your face is filled with panic as you feel four sets of hands secure each of your limbs to the table. The familiarity of the soft leather cuffs does not work its usually calming magic. And then.....nothing. You hear the crunch of boots on gravel as the front door shuts. Your mind races and loses all sense of time. They are only gone for a short few minutes to walk off their breakfast. Me? I stayed behind silently watching over you as always. I am looking down at your bound form from the loft above and wonder if you can sense my eyes. My presence. Your nervous shifting tells me no. The heavy footsteps on the porch quiet you though and I quietly come down the stairs.
You asked for this.
"My lady...." What? No!" you think. "She is mine. MY lady! Not yours you cocky bastard! Just wait until I'm untied...." My gracious thanks make you even more angry as you smell the cigars start to fully bloom. You are not surprised to taste them on my kisses as I lean down to taste your mouth. You cannot even savor it because unexpected fingers begin to probe you... Examine you....open you. You want to sink into the table at the humiliation of the comments made but you can't. The searing pain of my cane rips through you and before the first stripe is raised it lands again and again working its way down your back, across your ass and down your legs. The comfort of knowing it's mine cannot register the beating comes so swiftly. Then my faraway words come back to you.....
"They will use you but I will beat you. You belong only to me." As fast as this thought comes to you it takes its leave as you feel your mouth being opened and viciously filled with cock.
You asked for this.
Hands grasp your hip. They are much too large to be mine and you know it.
You asked for this.
You asked for this.
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Expectations.
Aren't they great? (sorry....I had to!)
Personally I love it when I think I know exactly how a scene is going to go down and then suddenly Sir changes things up on me. It always makes me feel like I'm teetering on the highest of heels at the top of a staircase and he is standing two steps below me holding out his hand just waiting for me to take that first step. Even though I know he will catch me that first step can be scary.
All too often in this we think that going harder better faster stronger bigger, thicker, sharper is better. I wholeheartedly disagree. Now that is not to say that sometimes more everything isn't absolutely deliciously perfect in every way, just not always.
As a Dominant, once you submit and I have you completely immobilized then it's really game on. I can do whatever however for as long as I want to and if I'm really an asshole I can even ignore your safeword. Because fuck it. Imma just take this shit because I can.
But is that really submission? That would depend on many factors that deserve a post of their own but you can suffice it to say that this type of submission isn't always for me.
Let me explain......how about a bedtime story friends?
I walk in and you greet me with a warm embrace and an even warmer kiss. I drop my bag and exchange the pleasantries of "I'm so glad you're here"...."I am so hungry"...."How was the drive over?"....."Ugh you feel so good"....When what we really want to say is
"Oh my god I have been on fire for two days and I need you right here up against the front door!".
I walk you back to the bedroom and ask you to turn around. I place a blindfold over your eyes. Yes, even your sight belongs to me. I gently start to undress you drinking in the sight of you. I let my hands glide over your muscled body as I peel back your pants. Everything in me wants to drop to my knees and inhale your hardness until I choke. I wouldn't care. I just want you in me. It doesn't matter how just.....in. But I continue undressing you and staying the course. The music you are playing is perfect and I smile a snarky smile that you will never see. When you are fully naked for me, I sit you down on the bed. I push your legs wide apart myself because there is no need to mansplain this. I bring your hands up to my lips and kiss them gently. Then I place them lightly on my hem. "Undress me baby" I say as your eager hands blindly start to attempt some semblance of grace. Eventually I am standing in front of you wearing only a beautiful black lace bra and panties. Your breath has quickened and you start to fidget slightly and I know what you want to do. You want to rip that blindfold off so you can see me. But you won't.
I take your hands again and place them on my face and let my own hands drop to my sides. It's killing me not to touch you. "Look at me baby. Look at me with your hands."
And you do. I kiss your fingertips as they trace over my lips and face. Those fingers trace down my jawline and into the hollow of my collarbone. You then smile slightly as your hands find the lace and you cup my breasts and begin to squeeze and pull and stroke. You travel down my tummy and grip my hips hard. I can see how hard you are now. I'm hungry too but I simply stand there. Your breathing quickens and you grip my ass and pull my body into you burying your face against my skin. It's as if you are trying to breathe me into you.
I know that if I don't stop this now I will not be able to stop myself
from mounting you
so.....
I..... |
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Happy Thanksgiving!
Holidays are stressful as fuck. Aren't they though?
For some the work load of entertaining lands squarely and heavily on their shoulders alone. For others who do not have friends and family to spend it with it can feel so lonely and isolating. Some of us have to deal with emotional triggers around this time of year.
Someone very wise wise once said to me....
"What are you trying to do here by fighting this hard? When are you going to realize that being gentle with yourself is a perfectly acceptable solution sometimes? Just stop. Be gentle with yourself. Just until you are ready to pick up that sword again. You can fight another day baby girl."
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SHHHhhhhh!
Does silence make you uncomfortable? Does is make you a little nervously jacked up? Do you feel compelled to fill the void with something anything oh I wonder what they are thinking something say something oh god what should I say?! Or do you find your mind racing with thoughts that flip through your brain like a series of snapshots?
Maybe you find silence peaceful and comfortable. I have a special person in my life who will come to me with a grin and say "Come on! Let's bond!" So we jump into bed in our most comfortable clothes and settle in with our books and iPads and DONT talk. We snuggle feet but we don't talk. We may doze off but we don't talk. We stretch, adjust position and give a smiling yawn but we don't talk. It is the best ever! I know, I know. You are thinking "how is that bonding?". We are simply in a place of connection that we lovingly and deeply share silence. There is no need to be clever or witty or intelligent. There is no pressure to impress or influence. We are in that deep space of connection, respect, love and familiarity that requires nothing but the honoring of each other's presence.
Our world is filled with noise. There's traffic and people and music and footsteps and barking dogs and crying babies. There are pages turning and wine pouring and friends laughing and stilettos clicking across the floor. There is the sound of a zipper being lowered and that tiny intake of breath when your lover kisses your neck. And the sharp one of a plug just a little too large hitting its mark. There is the slap of a paddle on flesh and the sound of delicious torment and the desperate cry of a safe word that says "I am not okay I am not okay Put me back together because I don't know how and I'm not okay".
So many sounds.
Even gags do not offer respite from the noise.
It is often easy to forget that silence can be a beautiful thing.
The silent smile between two souls that share the deepest of secrets.
Silence.
Shhhhhhhhhh.
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Anticipation. Does it fill you with dread? Does it make you crazy with the countless imagined what ifs bouncing around your head? Does it scare you enough to want to tap out and just have ice cream instead? How do you use it? Are you vague? Do you describe in detail to your partner EXACTLY how many times your cane is going to stripe their skin just so you can watch them shiver?
I am a firm believer in waiting. In having the best. In doing my best. I am not interested in half assery in any form. I would rather do without than make do with the mediocrity of something that leaves me hungry...wanting...frustrated...on edge. Both in my outside life and in my bed I not only want amazing but I will work damn hard to make it happen.
Take coffee for instance. I know, I know. You love coffee too! ❤️☕️Yes precious I see
your PSL and know that you and your Starbucks rewards card are counting the days until the dawn of the red cup. Bless you and your yoga pants too baby girl! But if you come to my house and I ask you if you would like a coffee know that I am not firing up a Cuisinart, much less a Keurig. Keurigs are proof that Satan is real and wants us to burn in hell in a vat of stale brown water for all of eternity. No, I'm going to fire up my Italian made espresso machine then we will discuss your poison and I will hand select the right roast, the right grind, the right coffee/water ratio and pull it perfectly. Do you like it creamy? I won't even need a thermometer for the froth. If you ask for French Vanilla creamer I will lock a plug in your ass so large you will think I just shoved a French press up there. And this is only IF your desires can be met with the Italian God. Sometimes that press you think is in your ass is perfect. Or perhaps this requires a careful slow hand pour straight into your cup.
Sex is the same for me. So is submission. If Sir tells me to kneel, my knees will not only hit the floor but my lips will part in anticipation of being fed. My thighs will part in anticipation of being touched. My fingers will open in anticipation of any invitation to touch...to please. My eyes will zone in on every move he makes in anticipation of reading something. Anything. And offering it up to him.
But so is Dominance. It is not enough for me to leave you with a tear stained face and a red raw ass. I want to not only know how you like it but I'm going to slowly and patiently make you tell me exactly how you like it. And then beg me to give it to you. And then I will decide to give it or torment you accordingly. Do you need it to sting? Or do you need that deep thud all up your back? Do you need the intimacy of being across my lap with the loud slapping of my bare hand across your ass as my other hand catches your tears? Will you kneel for me face down, ass up or do the restraints make it finally finally finally possible to truly let go? Perhaps you need that permission in the form of a blindfold so you won't know what's coming. The humiliation of being made to go get my belt and bring it back to me crawling with it between your teeth could possibly be just the thing.
Anticipation, like coffee, comes in many forms. Each with their own merits and uses. (except for Keurigs oh my god go away with the Keurigs) I know that my submission is worth the waiting and work and anticipation it takes to be given it. So is yours. Lucky for you that I also love the antici.......pation of being worthy of your gift.
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Pain is a fickle, fickle bitch.
As a fully owned submissive, I am always eager to serve my beloved Sir and be well used in many ways. Last evening involved heaps of deep red rope, cuffs, plastic wrap and my favorite riding crop. And pain. The mounting pain of the merciless gentle tap tap tap tap of the crop repeatedly on my swollen clit. The stinging pain of it landing smartly on my body. Over as soon as it registered In my foggy consciousnes. The dull aching of my legs that were bent and bound tightly with plastic so thick I had no hope of stretching or feeling his warm touch on my thighs. My knees pulled insanely wide apart by the ropes. He's a clever one, my Sir. He secured them in a manner that would tighten if I struggled too much against them. A gentle reminder for quiet obedience. The varying pains of pinching and biting and thrusting and squeezing. All salty and sweet at the same time somehow yet in perfect balance on my palate.
And then there is the sweet pain the comes confidently walking into the room naked except for its sharp heels clicking across the floor. I know you, bitch. You always stroll slowly towards me. You force my gaze away from him and to the painting that hangs on my side of the bed in an attempt to fight the inevitable feeling of overwhelm. Yes, we have met before. You stop right at the edge and your arrival is announced with a gentle "Wait, baby doll". Last night your calling card was dropped deep in me as he grazed my cervix. We are old friends, you and I, despite the fact that you smile at the tears you bring me. At least last night your visit was mercifully short. As suddenly as you came, you were dismissed with a hungry "Cum with me now". And then You were released. My eyes closing against my tears, the colors on my wall, my Sir. You always take your leave with a certain cocky swagger too. It is as if you are reminding me with every step and a glance over the shoulder that you own me as well. I am your bitch too. And I know it.
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Today I had an interesting talk about music with someone. ❤️
We agreed that you can tell a great deal about a person by their music collection.
Mine? It makes no sense. There is no rhyme or reason to it. There is no predominant genre or era. There is everything from Mozart to Dave Matthews Band to Industrial to bubble gum pop because you better work bitch to Garth Brooks to obscure bands most have never heard of. Take right now for instance.... I am in my kitchen putting away some produce and thinking about nachos and red wine and what am I singing as if it's the semi final episode on The Voice? Hamilton. Why? Because I prefer to talk less. Smile more. Ah ya yo yo yo yo! What time is it?! Why? Because I'm just like my country. I'm young, scrappy and hungry and I'm not throwing away my....shot.
What are you listening to? |
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Let's talk turn on's!
What turns you on? And I don't mean the given. I mean seriously. If you hold a vibrator to my clit I am going to orgasm eventually and most likely more than once. But I can do that myself so why do I need you?
Intelligence is sexy. You can have the body of the divine but if you cannot challenge my mind then your pretty face will quickly bore me then just become annoying.
Humor is sexy. Sexual activity if often filled with bloopers and hilarity And if you cannot laugh at it, me and yourself then you have an unrealistic expectation of perfection. I cannot be the only one who has stumbled out of bed dazed and tripped over her bra or reached for the water bottle on the nightstand and ended up having to scrub silicone lube off the hardwoods! Admit it. You have! You know you have!
Deep trust is sexy. The deep kind of trust that allows you to offer yourself up for something you aren't sure of but compels you to still say yes. Yes, please! One of the sexiest moments I have ever experienced was when I was pushed emotionally and physically to the point I sobbed "enough!" and my Sir not only respected but understood it. He stopped, held me, pieced me back together then stroked me back into my happy place because he knows me. And I could trust that he would not break me.
Think about.
What turns you on?
💋
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