Sleepy bean

So I have a new job where we don’t get to see each other every day and I work really long hours and don’t get to go back to his or see him in the evening much.  Which is supremely rubbish.  And I’ve been having trouble because I don’t deal very well with missing someone.  I get sad, then I get mad and then I think ‘if I wasn’t in this relationship, I wouldn’t be missing the person.  Maybe I should end it to make it easier’.  Isn’t that stupidest thing you’ve ever heard?  I’m sorry for being a idiot.

So this all means we obviously haven’t had sex in a while either.  Or even played around a bit with chasing and tickling and bum smacking and wrestling and being growled at.  And I’m pretty tired so when we do go to bed eventually I’m all like ‘I just want something gentle – I don’t want to be subbed or smacked around’ and so he obliges because he’s wonderful.  And then he’s gentle and loving and I can’t get into it because it feels weird and I really just want to be pinned down and fucked and so I start wriggling and turning away.  And then we both start laughing, I apologise for being a weirdo and he pulls my hair, chokes me with one hand and fucks me till he comes.  And everything is right with the world.

He apologises for it being a bit quick and me not having an orgasm and just as we’re falling asleep I say ‘it’s ok, it’s what I needed to tie me to you again’.  We got loose because of the time away and the lack of play but we just have to play once and only a little again and I’m bound straight to him once more, his sub, his plaything, his lover.  And I can’t get away.  And I don’t want to.

EVAH!

So now I’m back/from outer space!  Yes the holiday ended a week ago and yes it’s taken me this long to get round to blogging.  I am sorry – mostly because my memory is becoming steadily worse as I grow older (I’m 25 wahhhh) and so I won’t be able to describe in painstaking detail all the nasty stuff we got up to in the wilds of Scotland.

Ok, so maybe I was a bit hasty with the whole ‘being a slave for a week’ thing.  There was a bit of walking around and looking at nature and getting excited about pine martens and deer and lochs and mountains and that.  And an ENORMOUS amount of sci-fi (specifically Star Trek TNG) and building fires and then tending said fires like errant children.  So yes we acted like normal people most of the time and just did some well-earned relaxing.  Don’t worry though there was some stupid playing – which I will now detail.

It was the most amount of sex we’ve had in a while which was great.  The first day I made a joke about eating a ‘cumsicle’ when he teased me about not eating enough and lo and behold I was made to live up to my promise the next day!  We fucked in the bath and instead of coming inside me he came on to a small plate which he made me put in the freezer.  The next morning I had to take it out and eat it using a spoon.  It was the most disgusting thing I have ever done.  I needed to wash each mouthful down with flat coke and even then I thought I was going to be sick.  I retched on the first mouthful and it was only because of the look in his eyes that I finished it.  I certainly won’t be making cum jokes again but for sheer humiliation and grossness it wins a 9.5 on the kink-o-meter for us.  I think I just liked being shouted at.  It wasn’t the eating or the sick feeling but the not being allowed to get out of it that really turned me on.  It’s so weird – I’ve spent so much of my life hating being shouted at but now I can’t think of anything better.

The next day he tied me to a table and dripped wax on me and burnt my feet with a candle.  This one was a little tough because he tried to fuck me in the same position and it was pretty painful.  At the moment I’m finding it hard to stay subby when penetration hurts – it just pisses me off and makes me tense and then even when we are in a comfortable position I can’t relax and that hurts as well.  There’s nothing I like less than being right at the end of a scene like this one, bent over a table with handcuffs on and thinking ‘what the fuck is wrong with me?  Why can’t we just do it like normal people?’  It’s not nice for me and it’s not nice for him.  It is something that I’m working on but I will say this to any girls who may be reading – don’t ever ever ever get a coil.  They are the most uncomfortable, unsexiest, annoying mood-spoiling and frustrating devices ever invented.  Someone needs to come up with a way of stopping you from getting pregnant that doesn’t involve sticking bits of metal up your jacksie, wearing a plastic glove over your cock, taking drugs that make you fat and a crazy person or having to shove a spermicide-covered piece of rubber over your cervix.  And they need to do it now.  It’s so fucking medieval – it’s the 21st goddamn century and we can’t up with more pleasant ways of allowing people (women) to have more comfortable, satisfying and less life-destroying sex.  In no way do I have a feminist-shaped bee in my bonnet about this.

Anyhoo – one night he made me walk through the mud and on the stones in the rain in my bare feet while he shouted at me and smacked my arse.  Which was nice.  Then I had to clean the mud off my feet with freezing water and then got fucked.  Another time he bent me over the sofa, tied my wrists off, wrapped the rope under the sofa and round to my neck, handcuffed my ankles together and made me scream ‘I’m a whore, I’m a whore, I’m a whore’ while he fucked me from behind.  Which made me cry.  Which was great.

And one day he took me out in my underwear and strung me up to a tree, stripped me, whipped me and pulled me about with a crotch rope.  And left me hanging there while he chopped wood.  We then came back to the cottage and fucked on the bed before he tied my wrists behind me and fucked me over a rock in the field in front of the cottage where I could hear my screams echoing off the hills.

And one evening I got a stick from the kindling and stripped the bark off it and offered it to him to whip me with.  He proceeded to do so and I finally withstood enough to get some welts that lasted into the next day – which is a first for me.  Hurray.

All this was interspersed with kissing and hugging and looking after each other and relaxing and being happy in each other’s company.  We only had one real argument which was totally stupid and just means I should try harder to put my past behind me.  So I’m madly in love and happier than ever and older and wiser and more mature.  BDSM is good for you.

Kicking bird

I’ve been looking at my blog stats and am not surprised to find that the post with the most views is the one where you can see my spanked bottom.  I really want to post more photos but the ones we took recently have my face in them and that’s a little too exposed even for me.  And I have two quite unique tattoos as well which need to be covered up in any pictures so that makes it even more difficult.  The Master took a lot of photos when we first started going out but it’s died down.  I feel… ambiguous about this.  I don’t like having my photo taken.  I can be quite striking on a good day but am ridiculously unphotogenic (I get very awkward and can’t relax.  I particularly don’t like my nose so HATE pictures where you can see my profile) but I do like being objectified, humiliated and owned by him and pictures of me in ridiculous positions or worshiping his cock (like the last lot) make me feel very special.

We’re going on holiday in a couple of days!!!11!! I am so fucking excited.  I have just started a new job which has not turned out quite the way I would have liked so I’m even more desperate to just get away.  And every time anyone asks me about it I just want to shout ‘We’re going to spend a week fucking and playing and I’m going to be humiliated and hurt and if I don’t come back with any bruises I’m going to be very disappointed!’  I can’t stop thinking about all the fun we’re going to have.  And I’m trying very hard not to build it up for myself so I don’t get disappointed if it doesn’t happen.  And the Master seems much more concerned with how much exploring and walking we’re going to do.  And I don’t want to upset him but I just want to hang around and not go outside much.  Even if we’re not playing as such, I want to be in my underwear, attending to his every whim; cooking food, reading to him, sucking his toes, his cock – oh crap, I’ve set myself off again!  Can you tell I’m on a (self-imposed) orgasm denial period?

I’m trying to get the Master used to using me – to not always take no for an answer.  I’ve been thinking about this more and more and I think I really do like being forced and will be lazy and pretend I don’t want sex in order to make him angry so he’ll MAKE me.  This has real echoes back to when I wasn’t a ‘practicing’ sub.  It’s a very familiar feeling – I always wanted my boyfriends to ‘take’ me.  I guess that isn’t so unusual for a woman – rape fantasies and the idea that we ‘need’ to be taken and shouldn’t make the first move are pretty widespread but it does give me real pleasure.  I have no problem with initiating sex (and often have to because so much of what we do relies on my mood) and also don’t feel rejected if he says no (wow – you’ve taken your first step into a wider world) so I think I’ve managed to separate sex from all the guilt and crap I picked up on the way.  So maybe it’s a real sub urge…

Of course, sometimes I just have period cramps and I don’t want to be touched.  Sorry Master.

I can’t think of anything clever to say

So we didn’t last till 10pm but then we did have the house to ourselves and we didn’t want to waste it.  I had cycled 10 MILES the day before just to buy a new vibe and it was totally worth it

He handcuffed me to the edge of the bed and turned me on my front for a fast, nasty spanking and feet tickling.  He then turned me over and began licking and vibing me, teasing the tip of the vibe into my wet pussy.  He also spanked my tits with a spatula and teased me and teased me until I came, hard and fast.  It. Was. Awesome.  I haven’t thought and fantasied about sex that much since we started going out.  On Sunday morning I had to get up before my alarm because I couldn’t get the thought of him fucking me hard while spanking the inside of my thighs out of my head.  And he did fuck me hard.  And there was no pain, no discomfort, just hot, hard fucking and a whole lot of fun.

This is one of those times where I can’t believe not everyone is a sub.  Why wouldn’t you want to have fun like this?  I just imagine the looks on my friends faces though if I told them.  ’Why would you want to be denied orgasms? Why take all the fun out of it?’ Cos he’s in control I’d scream.  Cos he’s in charge and I’m not and it’s the best thing ever invented.  I’m actually getting told off as I type – apparently I’m still on a leash and I disobeyed by masturbating earlier.  Uh oh.  That means I’ll have to be tied up in a faceless B&B at the weekend and have my arse whipped while hot wax is poured on my feet and I’m vibed senseless.  Oh no.  Poor me.  So sad.

Bah!

Grrr!  Orgasm denial!  Grrrrr!  I need to buy a new vibrator and I want to use it today but I can’t until tomorrow!  Grrrrr!  I can’t take it anymore!

Lootings, fire. Mass hysteria.

So I’m, like, really highly suggestible.  I’ve been going back through Bitchy Jones (you read Bitchy Jones – I had no fucking idea) and I’ve come across a couple of orgasm denial posts.  So I was like, ‘er, yes please, that sounds like fun’.  And I told the Master.  Along with some other stuff.  Like how I like the phrase ‘Daddy’s home’.  I don’t think I like it because it’s wrong – it doesn’t feel taboo.  I haven’t called anyone Daddy for many, many years.  I haven’t had a Daddy for almost as long.  It just feels like a big word – something someone small and naughty but special says to someone who tells them off, tells them what to do but also loves them deeply and looks after them.  It feels caring and orderly.

I do this a lot.  I think of things that sound great in my head (yes sir, thank you for fucking me/please, please fuck me/I want to put your big hard cock in my mouth) and then I say them and I sound like a retarded porn star.  I’ve done roleplay before, outside of fun times with the Master.  Really really stupid fake rape / sexy dress up stuff with whole scenarios and pretty much scripts and silly stuff like that and I got through all that (and enjoyed most of it) and didn’t feel like an idiot.  So I’m curious as to why I can’t always let go and say all the stuff that I want to without feeling self-conscious.  I can do all sorts of other stuff – awkward positions, canings, ties, gags, all that good stuff without feeling stupid.  So why not talking about how I feel?  Tres weird.

The rest of the Daddy thing is just him looking hardcore at me and crossing his arms with no top on while he says it.  Good freaking christ that makes me sexy.  His arms make me so hot I want to punch myself in the face.  He is just the most beautiful creature.  And he loves this stuff so much.  When I feel stupid or rubbish it’s his conviction that what we’re doing is right and cool and sexy and loving that carries me through.  He will try something, anything, to make me happy and to help us carry on doing what we do.  I am so lucky.  Still so lucky.

So that’s why I’m more than happy to give up orgasms until 10pm Sunday night.  It’s so stupid – I don’t masturbate a huge amount but now that I can’t I can’t stop thinking about it.  I had some time to myself today and I was just going to do it to cheer myself up and then I remembered what I’d promised.  And then I thought I could get away with it – he would never know.  But what would be the point of that?  I’d miss out on all this great frustration, all the nasty texts (No you little slut! 10pm Sunday whore – and not before.  We’ll put your response to orgasm denial to the test then – and not a second before, do you understand?)  If I wasn’t such an orgasm retard I would have come right then.

I wasn’t thinking

I’ve come to bed.  But not in a sexy ‘tie me and leave me there’ kind of way.  More in a ‘I’m so tired I’m going to kill someone’ kind of way.  It’s not pleasant.  I just did some, like, blog updating.  I learnt how to make a blogroll and added Bitchy Jones in the hope that it will make me look cooler.  I don’t know what the etiquette is – I don’t know if you’re supposed to ask before you do that.  I’ve commented a couple of times on her blog but not really interacted with it properly so I’ve not received much of a response.  I’m a serial lurker in these places.  And I’m trying to get more involved in other blogs but I’m so lazy that once I’ve found something I like I can’t be arsed to go looking for other stuff like it.  I know I’m supposed to interact more so it will get this place noticed but I feel so attention-seeking.  I have to keep pretending this is all for some sub lesson thing and it’s cos my Master asked me and it’s got nothing to do with having everyone look at me and how cool and sexy and kinky and clever I am.

I think that’s why I like Bitchy Jones so much.  At least hers has a point.  She’s trying to fix KinkLand one ranty post at a time.  And she makes some really great arguments.  And it just makes me feel stupid and inadequate.  Which I’m sure isn’t the point.

The Master saw me reading it yesterday and asked me if I was going to leave him for a kinky lesbian.  I said no because I’m straight but if he wanted someone else to tie me up or hit me while he watched (as long there was no kissing or penetration) I’d be perfectly happy to do it.  And I’ve only just realised why he had a funny look on his face.  It’s because I didn’t say ‘not because you don’t satisfy me but because I want to do whatever makes you happy and turned on’.  Fuck.  

He jokes so much about me leaving him for someone better (prettier, richer, whatever) and about me having hundreds of boyfriends and lovers.  I can’t tell what’s real joking and what’s half joking.  I feel weird that he worries about it and that he thinks so little of himself.  I tried very hard when we first got together to convince him of how wonderful he is – he seemed to have no idea.  And now I feel like I’m not trying as hard.  He said ‘I don’t know what I would do without you’ last night.  And it frightened me.  I’ve trained myself so hard not to have an idealised, romantic view of love and happiness.  To remember that it’s fleeting and there’s no such thing as a soulmate.  To not want the ring or the house or the baby.  To know that I would certainly cope if it all ended tomorrow.  And to not say that sort of hopeless, beautiful lie.  Because I can’t cope with listening to it – knowing that really, deep down, he would know what to do without me.  He’d carry on, sad and lost for a while, but he would get over it.  

And it seems like I’ve cut this whole part of being madly, truly in love off from myself so I can’t enjoy it properly.  How horrible.  But I think it’s particularly difficult to strike the right balance with that kind of talk as a woman.  I wanted to say ‘I’ll be here forever – I’ll never leave you’ but that sort of thing can strike fear into the hearts of even the strongest doms.  You feel like you have to justify it with ‘but I don’t want to get married or live together – we can spend the rest of this relationship living separately and you never have to feel bad about having the Xbox downstairs.  There’s always an out-clause so don’t panic and I promise not to bring up the whole ‘I’d love to live with you’ thing that you said the other week, especially not while tapping my foot and looking at my watch expectantly’.

What is it that scares them so much?  What twisted me into wanting all that stuff so desperately while simultaneously twisting all the men I love in the opposite direction?  Whose stupid idea was that? 

And there we have it – the real problem when your dom is also your boyfriend.  All this real life crap gets in the way.  I’m so busy trying to work out the intricacies of declaring my undying love whilst leaving enough gaps for boys to escape if they need to that I can’t get bound and gagged and left on the floor.  I’ve got too much to think about!  No wonder I’m so tired.

PS. Sorry there wasn’t anything kinky/interesting in this.  I’m tired and I want to go on holiday.