Monday, April 30, 2012

Love Bites and love grows...

After reading _sub_girl's blog post about being a guest on the Love Bite I sat and listened, and loved it.
Besides the fact it was nice to hear her voice, it is not often I actually get to hear her, but she is the queen of pinpointing unmet needs. Both her own and others.
There have been a few times where she has gently and sometimes not so gently pointed facts out to me I was unwilling to admit, showing me where I had needs that were not met, needs that would never be met.

Combine that podcast with having a weekends at Sir's which began with me not being allowed to touch or kiss Him, which I was told to strip naked, and ate dinner that way while Sir was fully clothed and before long I was self evaluating what my needs were as compared to wants.

I want His control
I want to be His fucktoy
I NEED to be able to touch Him.

If I have to live without kink, I can
If I have to live without control, I can
If I had to live without Him, that I cannot do.
I would survive, but it would be a miserable existence.

Since being there, I have started to listen to more of the podcasts from the Love Bite.
Being kinky, there is limited places I can listen to it in peace, I have taken to listening to it in bed, or after kids have gone to sleep at night. I even managed a little listening at work today while I had the office to myself. Some parts of it make me think about my submission, about whether I can do things a little differently than I have before, make it better in some way.
It may be infinitesimal to others, but if it makes a difference in a good way in our life, I don't care how small it is.
Some of the podcasts may not be my kink, but I will still listen, who knows, I may learn something unexpected, some of the bizarre things in life happen when you least expect it from all sorts of weird and wonderful places.
So I downloaded the whole lot, or the episodes I could so far at least, and have subscribed to the new ones that are sure to come. I found them here

I am not saying they are a teaching tool, I am just saying that I will be listening with interest, and if I hear something that relates to me, that points out to me a time and place where I can improve my submission to Sir, then I will be giving it a try.

My submission has changed over the past few months, not in a huge way, possibly not even in a way anyone else can see, but I can feel the changes. It comes more naturally, easier, and I honestly think it is as simple as knowing I have met my life partner, and that I can knowingly be submissive with Him and know I am safe no matter what.
I am not a bow and scrape type of gal, and Sir would be the first to tell you I have no issue with sharing my feelings, good or bad. But everything I do, I can do knowing that no matter what my opinion is, He will take my thoughts and feelings into consideration and make the decision that is best at the time.
The trust comes easily, even when He gets vicious and brutal and takes what He wants from me in a way that leaves me feeling well used. I know no matter how rough He gets, it would stop in an instant if He ever hurt me past what I can take, I know no matter how used I feel, I am always loved.

And the proof is in the pudding so to speak... Sunday morning Sir took what He wanted. 4 kids in the house, before coffee (even my kids don't speak to me until after coffee) and He just opened my legs, pulled my panties to the side and He fucked me. Before long we were off the bed and I was on my hands and knees on the floor, taken roughly from behind. There was nothing gentle about it, His fist was in my hair and He fucked me how He wanted. When He had enough, I was pulled by the hair to face Him and He came in my mouth. The whole time, Sir had this vicious look on His face, the one which warns me if I say something smart, that I will pay in a way that will ensure I learn a lesson from it. This was not about my pleasure, I was spanked twice...just enough to inflict pain and make that satisfying cracking sound, but not enough that I began to enjoy it, it was Him, His pleasure, taking what He wanted....and I loved every second of it.

As much as I have seen my submission change, I have seen His domination over me grow, seen Him become more comfortable in His role as the Alpha Man in our home.
This 24/7 relationship which involves D/s is a first for both of us, we are both feeling our way, neither of us have much to compare it to, but never have I felt so happy and content.

I have found my soul mate, and I am a lucky girl in that He is a kinky guy who loves to take control over me, but at the same time, let me be me, a strong submissive with a dominant personality who is quite capable of looking after herself.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

His Fucktoy...

Driving home from Sir's last weekend, I passed the coffee shop where I had coffee for the first time with my ex-Dom. We had met elsewhere initially, but the rain had meant that venue wasnt going to work, so we drove to a coffee shop close by.
At the exact moment I realised where I was, and that I was almost stopped in traffic right outside the door, a song came on the radio.
It is one I have listened to many times, and love the words too, it speaks to me in a way not a lot of songs do, hits a spot inside if you will call it that.
This song has parts that could be word for word how I feel, some parts not so much, but I didn't write the bloody thing, so that's to be expected.
I am not going to pick out the parts that I identify with, nor the parts that don't mean as much, I will leave that for another day perhaps, and possibly whoever reads this has someone in their past that this song could have been written about, or knows someone like it.
Sir and I discussed a few different things today, stuff about the past, about the future, about the present, and I mentioned to Him that I had heard this song at the exact moment I went past the coffee shop where I had had that first meeting, I played Him the song while He held me in His arms, standing in the lounge.
It is almost like a closure for me that I hadn't had until now.
I never got a last chance at goodbye, once we came back from our trip away, I found out I was sick, and before I knew it goodbye was only of course.
I guess in my mind I always thought there may have been a coffee, a hug and one last goodbye and wishing each other well, but there seems to have been too many things said to make that viable.

Probably more to the point, I feel like it is no longer needed either.
I have gotten rid of the things in the box tied with a bow.
I have sat and thought a lot about the past lately, I am not sure why it is now, life is quite busy for me, it is not like I sit here with time on my hands and nothing to do.

Within the first few months of me starting on my journey, I had spazzed out more than once, and looking back on it, I was fucked up.
Not fucked up bad, but definitely not my normal usual self.
I would cry a helluva lot more than normal. I didn't cope with things that I normally would have, and most importantly, I put up with things that I would have told anyone else to go fuck themselves over.

I am not saying I was treated badly.
I have no regrets.
I learnt a lot and those things I will forever be grateful for.
But I allowed myself to be treated in a way that I could no longer do.
It was never EVER without respect...this is in no way shape or form an attempt at disrespecting my ex-Dom, he made it crystal clear right from the very beginning, before we ever met how this would be.
I accepted his terms and conditions and I did so without coercion, without pressure and knowing the truth about how this would be.

Having said that, I think back to accusing him of making me feel like his fucktoy, that I was something he had sitting on his shelf, to be taken down and played with at his beck and call.
Sir has a pet name for me, something He takes great pleasure into whispering in my ear at different times in that oh so alpha tone of voice that makes you know exactly where your place is in His life....
I am His Fucktoy.
It is one of many words He calls me, it goes hand in hand with slut, whore, bitch and variations thereof.
But it is when He calls me Fucktoy that I melt inside.
It is one of those words that I used to hate, and now I love.
I am His Fucktoy, but the difference is, I don't ever feel like He places me on a shelf to be used when convenient. I am there to be used when and wherever he chooses, and the other times, I am content in His arms, knowing I am loved.

Now I sit here with a very sore arse, and a tender cunt, having today learnt the difference between being fisted and being fist fucked, and knowing that Sir was the first man to have ever cum up my arse.
Psychologically that was a feeling I never expected. Sir has given me many firsts, but knowing He came up my arse and was the first person to do that, make me smile in a way I never expected.
I ineffectively tried to explain it to Him at the time, but I am fairly sure it is something unexplainable, almost like giving Him a virginity of some kind.

Today was not the beginning of a journey, nor the end of another, but it was a day I will remember for a long time.

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Untitled writing...

She walks through the door, pulling her case behind her, handbag slung over one shoulder and a weary look on her face.
She sees Him standing in the kitchen, the aroma of dinner cooking makes her stomach rumble in hunger, He walks towards her, beer in hand, a smile on His face. Dropping the handbag on the floor, she wraps her arms around Him, holding tight, relishing in the feel of His body against hers, her head rests on His chest, it is the feeling of being home.
 No amount of contact mid week makes up for the feeling of being in His arms, drawing on His strength, taking a deep breath, inhaling the essence that is Him.
He leads her to the kitchen, placing His beer on the counter, she is tired, but excited to be there, eager to have time with Him.

He wraps her in His arms again, kissing her, holding her tight, she relaxes into Him. It feels like home when He is close. A hand wraps around her ponytail, twisting it gently as He kisses her, playfully tugging it softly.
Without warning, her head is pulled back sharply, the gentle hand has disappeared. He is forceful, there are no illusions that if she resists, that the hand will pull harder, sharper, forcing her head back, exposing her neck, holding her firmly in place. His other hand grabs her under the chin, holding her still as His lips take what they want, His tongue pillaging in her mouth, teeth biting her lips. His mouth moves to her ear, whispering softly
'Take your things to the bedroom my little fucktoy, you know where they belong, you have 3 minutes to be back here minus your shoes and with your collar in your hand'

Her weariness has disappeared, not knowing what is coming next, knowing that if He were to put His hand inside her panties, she would be dripping wet already, she rushes to do as she is asked.
Slightly less than 3 minutes later, she re-appears as ordered, collar in hand, bare feet on the cool tiles.
He looks at the floor at His feet, she kneels instantly, hands together in front of her, offering Him the collar she holds. He ignores the collar, takes hold of her hair, again pulling her head back, forcing her to look up at Him.

She can smell the control, see it written on His face, feel it in the strength of His hands in her hair. He says nothing, just looks at her face, reading the tiredness, the excitement and the fear of not knowing what is coming next, He takes hold of the collar, all the while looking at her face, still saying nothing.

The hand disappears from her hair, her head dropping forward. He places the collar around her neck, buckling it tight. When He is sure it is fastened to His liking, a fistful of her hair makes her aware she is expected to stand. In one smooth movement, she stands and is spun around to face the nearest wall in seconds, with no time to brace her hands against the wall, her face is pressed to the plaster, His hips holding her in place. With one hand in her hair, and the other around her throat, His body pressing her tight against the wall, she feels her cunt drip in excitement.

'Tonight my little slut, you will do as I ask, when I ask, how I ask and all without complaint, do you understand me??'

'Yes Sir, I do' she says, as she feels her cunt clench, drip and throb.

'Go and sit down, dinner is ready' He says

She sits as she is told, this food will give her the necessary energy for what comes next, something she has a feeling she may need......

Friday, April 6, 2012

Go on then.... Make me..

The idea of consensual non-consent has always appealed to me.

I never want to be in the position of being sexually abused in any way, or afraid of being attacked, but the thought of saying No, and having someone you trust take it from you anyway, appeals to me.

I have always wondered about how exactly consensual non-consent would work.
I am a submissive.
I not only love and trust my Sir, but I don't say no, and not because I am not allowed, but because I don't choose to. How can I say no to something I want so much??
So am I supposed to say no even though I don't want to, rendering any non consent a whole load of bullshit??
Put up a weak resistance?? Fight back??? How exactly does this work??

If at this point you are thinking in your head that consensual non consent works better with a stranger, someone I don't know, someone I can really say no to...then I aint trying it. Not going there.

I am currently having a mini holiday with Sir, a full week together, sometimes with kids, sometimes not, but yesterday I had to go to work for the day.
6am alarm, 7am leave. Sir made me coffee before I left, packed another in a travel mug for me to take, He then spent the day doing everything except anything for Himself. Looking after kids, cooking, cleaning, washing, all while I was at work.
I arrived home 12 hours after I had left, tired, and with a headache.
At some point over dinner, a shower, then a nap on the couch, I decided that while I would never be able to effectively say NO, that after such a day, me saying no, may just get a reaction that I wouldn't normally on any other given day.

I honestly don't believe consensual non consent can work for me when He knows I am only playing, to me, it has to be believable. So.... last night I said No, amongst other things.
Words like 'maybe', 'if you think you can' and the whole time, said in that tone of voice that reeks of sarcasm and intent to piss Him off.
I didn't want to say No to Sir.
I wanted to be in His arms in bed.
I wanted to play.
I wanted to make love.
But I also knew that I am very rarely in a  mood like that, and that if I took advantage of the mood, that Sir would push harder than normal, hence we would both get to experience something different.

Sure, for those of you sitting there thinking I was topping from the bottom, you can think that, but consider the options....

I could have sat here on the couch, explained to Sir what I would like to try, then with permission, use a half hearted No, to which He would have known meant Yes because of our prior discussion, and what would have resulted would have been a wasted effort for both of us.


I could and did, become a smart arse, challenging Him to take what He wanted, while I used as much resistance as I could manage, without really fighting back (I cannot possibly hurt Him) which resulted in me in tears over the pain in my arse, and a hair style Medusa would have been jealous of. Something about having half the hair yanked out of my head, being spanked until I literally couldn't take any more, and then having Sir take what He wanted turned me on.

Having said that, I don't think I am in a hurry to do it again.
And not because my butt is still sore, but because as much as I am a smart arse, being deliberately smart as compared to being smart and teasing in a playful manner, are two totally different things.
One I enjoy, the other not so much.

It is just not fun saying No to someone you want so much, but I am glad I did it, if only for one reason....

It proved to me how much I trust Him and how much that trust is well placed.

Monday, April 2, 2012

Licking my lips.....

As much as I love to feel His hands in my hair, or His teeth sinking into some part of my body, the thing I love the most is Cock worship, oral sex, blow job, sucking the sausage, whichever you prefer to call it.

There is something about feeling His hand knotted into the back of my hair, pushing my mouth onto His cock, ramming His hips upwards, forcing me to take as much as He can shove in there, and holding me still while He face fucks me.
Sometimes He holds my head just back far enough that I can't quite reach His cock with my tongue, He strokes it right there in front of my face, letting me watch, but knowing that what I really want is to get His cock in my mouth, to run my tongue all over it, sucking on it, playing with it, treating it as if it was my own personal lollipop to play with. Knowing He is holding me just out of reach has multiple, contradictory effects on my body, both out of my control.... it frustrates the shit out of me at the same time it turns me on to the point where I literally drip. I love to watch men masturbate, but not as much as I love His cock in my mouth.
To watch Sir stroking Himself turns me on beyond belief at the same time my mouth waters to get that cock down my throat as far as I can get it.

There is something very self satisfying about saying 'Thank you Sir' after He cums in my mouth.
And I lay there, the taste of Him in my mouth and I smile, cherishing the ache in my jaw, knowing I have pleased Him.