8/15/2013 6:11:33 PM: Learning to use them Lying here feeling sensuous I  map out a plan to seduce myself.  I remain frustrated without my gadgets that move and make humming sounds that are silenced and no buzz of a tingle anywhere in sight. It’s thundering and lightening outside, late evening, and as always I have the windows wide yearning for the chill of cool the air carries to glaze over my annoyingly hot body.  Master again invades my mind and consumes my thoughts, remembering in this glorious evening of valance how he entices me.  My hand and fingers roam as I hear him in my imagination whispering to go lower.  Show me, feel what you have learn his voice echoes.  I want you to see I silently speak as my fingers to where they too would please him, to where I wish to feel him.  My nipples are frozen and erect from the seduction of the breeze as I squeeze.  Oh, to tease would please him and I pull hard then harder.  I like the pain of pleasure as I spank it and squeeze; a different vibe, a lovely vibe as the need for the heat is demanded. Bypassing the throbbing harden bud seeking the wetness that once rubbed on it will ensure the explosion I berry my finger deep.  Another sensation begging for attention as I penetrated deeper with now two and three fingers gyrating as the greed for more propels me to slam my palm down hard and the exquisite pain drives the now massive bud to explode as the reservoir of squirt cools me to stillness.   A lovely thought; no more need for toys as I was born with all I ever needed to vibe. sub t

8/13/2013 6:32:56 AM: Brushes, Who Said They Were Only For Painting Brushes are not just used for painting, or at least painting in the conventional way with water or oil color.  I painted once….by the number and within the lines, giggles. What a disaster that turned out to be.  Never could I stay within the boxes; even at that age it seemed I wished to tempt the limits of my nurtured conditionings.  My only love for this display of creative expression is in viewing the beauty artist can create from a single slate of blank canvas.  Trying to decipher the artistes thought and vision surrounded with camouflaged brilliance.  A game of creative imagination, I could stare for hours secretly wishing I in kind possessed similar traits of creative genius. It was a lesson to be remembered.  Saddened by may lack of imagination and the absence of my friends I laid on the freshly laundered, crisp, air cooled sheets massaging its softness, a thousand counts it think.  I reached for the two tapped brushed I use to paint my face.  Feeling the bristles firm fullness of both I stared noticing their differences; one wide and flat resting on a long tapered stem, the other widely rounded with an evenly measured handle.  Startling me from my trance he whispered for the flattened one. Glide the brush tips from the base of you head along the back of your ear, down your neck just under your chin and back.  Don’t focus on the brush itself but rather the touch of the soft tips warming so lightly, he said.  The action instantly warmed me; my fingers loosened their grip desiring the softest of touch.  My canvas responded, stretching its scape and displaying the elevation of my nipples and the moistness slickness on its surface.  Now, easy baby, brush the air.  Spread it down you neck; stroke it side to side and down between your breasts.  It breathed, the canvas did, more in anticipation for the next stroke knowing where it was to go, as a magnet drawn it approached my nipple.  Stilled by the mere touch not wanting to move, he yearned for it.  Circle it he said soft by strong.  His skilled eye seeing the hesitation he enforced, circle it with the brush, demanding now. On fire and in pain for release I circled the rounded brush tips between my legs grazing repeatedly the tip of my protruding clit; with each stroke threatening to erupt he pulled me away and again he commanded the same; again.  Just as an artist do not can prefect no further, nor could the dance of passion Master drew. The shades of blue ran strong. Later that evening while looking under the kitchen sink I saw a paint brush is used to stain my post box.  I had washed it well I thought it was soft.  I stroked my body, my nipple with it. Before I knew, I turned sharply and tossed it in the trash. With a big grin I pranced proudly; whispering only in my mind, good night Master, soft and sure. sub t

8/9/2013 11:45:24 AM: No More Toys Remembering how it started, one day frustrated with the loneliness of my life and the absence of physical touch and the pleasure only a lover/mate could deliver, I ticked at the keys on my computer.  I identified my ills at ease and decided to try the alternatives a few friends had recommended…..toys…..love toys….toys guaranteed to give you feelings and take you places no mate could.    Although well into my adult live I had never tried any and found myself flushed with the idea of it.  With no more sex in sight and no need for another broken disappointment it sounded like a lovely concept.  As with most things I don’t understand I consulted the net.  This was no different, to my surprise there was much information and all kinds of interesting gadgets to view.  I needed more hands on information so that evening I visited a locale adult store.  Nervously, I browsed.  It felt forbidden and secret. I felt anxious and sneaky.  I loved it, smiling and times, giggling at times, and in shock and speechless at other times.  It was overwhelming and needed guidance/ and or direction.  Shyly I approach a woman sales clerk.  She was lovely as I remember answering all questions, asking some, and offering advice and suggestions.  An hour or so later I had in hand two books on self-masturbation, bottle of lube and my very first, very large vibrating dido.  Although only seven inches it to me was a very intimidating device; partly because I have never used one and partly because I did not know how to use it. Over the years however, my insights have grown with respect to the physical pleasure I could bring to myself with various tools.  With regular use of them I derive the pleasure of orgasm a mate gives.  Now instead of spending an hour building towards climax I could cum in minutes with those battery operated, moving sticks and eggs and things.  So whenever I felt the need for quick pleasure I turned to them, depended on them to comfort, soothe, and tranquil the desires of my body. Not till recently have I come to realize the difference between using toys as an enhancement to sexual please as it is designed for oppose to using them solely for a replacement to compassionate and loving intimacies of a complemented companion or returning to the passion I once gave to myself solely with my hands full of scented surprises. Well needless to say Master has acknowledged the flaws of this behavior and has instructed NO MORE TOYS OF ANY KIND; has forbidden any further use of them.  I need not tell you how devastating it was to hear this.  To protest came to mind but refused to be heard, I dare not question or reject his command.  We all know better now.  Moreover, he has a good point and I need to learn how to naturally ignite my orgasms and use toys as added fun and play and not as my only source of pleasure. This will be a difficult task to incorporate since they have been such a dependent part of my life, but worth the effort to withdrawal from.  thank you Master for you wisdom. sub t

7/19/2013 5:00:10 AM: His Forgiveness is Blissful Master is no longer upset with me; I pushed the red button and got silence for more the forty eight hours, I was silenced. He asked me to insert him and wear him for a while, inserted high within I carried him.  as we moved I remember why we were apart.  I was not respectful of my Master, failing to obey one’s Master is a major offense.  Disobedience is an indication of failed trust; trust that what your Master says is in your best interest, one of protection against harm even to one’s self, and one of uncaring.  Oh, how not my intention.  The stubbornness of the inexperienced, how foolish I was.  The time away was painful, sleepless, and lonely.  He asked me to carry him, to feel him, and I felt his love.  I felt in me his soft pounding just with the tip, as I moved.  He had forgave me I thought and smiled within.  As I thought of his smile to the lesson learned, his approval in his reprimand, and finally with a stroke of his love I cam; full and with too short a notice it burst free.  I gave my love back to him. sub t

7/1/2013 7:27:49 AM: Nakedness From Below  I pondered a long time over my most recent request to dress without the normalcy of wearing undergarments.  As the act in the vanilla world would be considered taboo, here in the bdsm world, to wear them, would be considered taboo, or maybe I should instead say, undesired.    There are many things I must get use to in my new lifestyle.  One such thing is the required nudeness, the disarmament of undergarments.  The first time I was asked to do this, although uncomfortable, I was in an environment acceptant of this behavior which eased my initial nervousness.  I felt beautiful, desired and very sensual.  Like a juicy ripe piece of fruit waiting and wanting to be squeezed and sucked of all the nectar within.  It was exciting and I felt very powerful, feelings I wished to capture again. Master categorized my outfit for the day.  The event was to the library.  (the fall semester was to begin in a matter of weeks and I wanted to get a jump on syllabus understanding and familiarize myself with the beginning chapters.)  As he described his desire; top, short skirt, two inch heel, no bra or panties; of course, hair down, and lip gloss, I was excited to be dressing for Master for the first time.  Something respectable and plain I thought, I was after all going to the library.  However, the excitement of dressing for Master” only”, sent my pelvis into a rhythmic pulse which of course instantly moistens me, hell I had not even gotten out of the house yet and the erotic juice began to flow; panties would be good here. At the library, I was surprised at the lack of eroticism I felt.  As I navigated though my task of review, I felt void of my dress, with the exception of a movement here and there which caused my nipples to brush a certain way against the fabric and harden or a shift in my seat, elevating my skirt, receiving a chilled breeze to cool the wetness between my legs.    I worked diligently and only on occasion when I allowed my thought to drift to Master did I feel the pulse in my clit. Lovely so, was the feelings I allow to distract me welcomingly. As I travel home, I acknowledge my comfit, I felt good, satisfied of my accomplishment, remain controlled and unaffected by my surrounding at the library.   Surprised how unaffected I felt without full dress attire.  I felt very much a sexy woman. subt