I am kneeling in front of the computer right now as I type this, only dressed in my Mistress's collar. She is sleeping in the other room, after ordering me to massage her hands and feet (using lotion) and then to lick her legs, especially behind her knees, while she kept teasing me verbally about all the things she wants to do to me on our next scheduled spanking session. I'm looking forward to Friday evening.
Earlier tonight, after I massaged her and licked her for over an hour, she slipped off her panties, grabbed me by the hair and shoved my face into her cunt.
“Lick me, slaveboy,” she ground my nose and face into her furry pussy. A long time ago, she used to shave herself smooth there. Now, I am titillated by her hairiness, especially since it contrasts with her requirement that I remove all my pubic hair. At the time she made that rule, she told me that since it's her cock, she wants to see it naked all the time, that means no clothes for me without her permission and the constant shaving always reminds me that I am her toy.
I licked and licked and she groaned and her scent filled my nose and mouth. My cock was standing at attention the whole time. “Faster. That's good. Good boy...” after a few more minutes, she bucked and made an utterly maddening guttural noise that was sort of a combination shout and moan while the shudder of her orgasm spread out over her whole body.
“Put your cock inside me. Once it's there, just hold me. Don't hump. Don't move. Just fill me.”
I did as my Mistress ordered, sliding my hard cock inside her and then just staying still. Holding her. Pure torture. She slowly drifted off to sleep, then, and just before she actually fell asleep, she told me “You'll sleep on the floor at the foot of the bed tonight. Go and get me a glass of orange juice and pull the covers over me.”
I did as I was told, and after I pulled the covers over her, I decided to write a bit in this blog, to settle myself down and to think by writing. I hope that what I write here makes sense tonight.
Paradoxically, not being allowed to sleep with my Mistress, after the intimacy of massaging her, licking her, giving her an orgasm and even being allowed to be inside her for a few minutes (oh, such a sweet heavenly torture) only makes me want her more. She completely has my number. :-)
As I wrote earlier, I am really looking forward to the next punishment session. They are the only times that I am allowed to orgasm, and then, not every time. The randomness of the reward, linked always to the certainty of pain, keeps me on my best behavior between sessions.
Mistress has managed to train me to hold my orgasms till she gives the command, which means that on occasion she has used me as her live dildo for about ten minutes, orgasming herself around my hard cock, then ordering me to pull out and to start working on cleaning the bathroom. Again, on the occasions that she has done things like that, I am mentally gone, “dropped” into sub-space, completely hers to command. My frustration is completely overpowered by my awe and devotion.
When we first began our relationship, Mistress Laura kept a notebook in which she would record my infractions (not listening, giving her back-talk, not doing something to her specifications) and then she would administer a weekly spanking, meting out whatever she decided for each bad behavior.
After a few months of this, she changed the system. She told me that she was tired of the book-keeping and would now be giving out “demerits” and that I would need to keep track of how many demerits I had between spanking sessions. Then, on Friday nights, I was required to lay out all her implements of torture (spanking paddle, whips, canes, clothes pins) and kneel next to the bed till she came into the bedroom. She would then decide how many swats each “demerit” was worth and would give me the punishment accordingly.
It hurts to be punished. I'm not really a pain slut, but I have found that I actually crave being hurt by her now... I don't really want to be hurt by anybody else, but for her, especially when that look of lust and pleasure crosses her face, I want her to beat me till there are welts on my ass that I can feel for a week afterwards...
A recent piece that Mistress Laura added to the punishment sessions: the introduction of chance. She now has me keep track of the number of demerits, then, before starting the punishment, she has me cut a deck of cards and pick a card. That card represents the number of swats per demerit that I will get. Her rules are that Jokers are wild (meaning she gets to decide what they represent) and the Jacks are 11, Kings are 12 and Queens are worth 13.
As of today, I have earned 7 demerits. The last few were kind of stupid of me. I argued with my Mistress when I should not have and I will pay for it, I am certain.
I hope I pull a nice high numbered card on Friday. :-)
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Musings on ownership and permanent markings
My Mistress has a rule for me that is deliciously lopsided.
I am required to wear my wedding ring while she will almost never wears hers. It's one of the ways that she reminds me that I am owned and that she is the boss. This morning, in the hustle and bustle of getting ready to chauffeur her to work on the way to my own job, I forgot to put her ring on.
Later in the day, when we were driving back home, she noticed that I was not wearing my “man collar” as she likes to call it. She teased me by saying in a mock exasperated voice “What, do you think you are a free boy now? Where is my ring, slaveboy? How can you forget to put your little man-collar on?”
Her teasing has the effect of going straight to my emotions and my loins. I was thrilled to be teased, at the same time as being embarrassed. Frankly, the worst thing in the world would have been if she had not noticed it or did not comment on it. I was not trying to be bad in any way, but once I noticed that I was not wearing the ring, I wanted her to notice it and control me and the situation. Does that make any sense?
In any case, the conversation meandered and at one point Mistress Laura says to me:
“You know... In about a year, if you are still my slaveboy, which I don't see why you wouldn't be... I'm going to put a tattoo on you. I'm not exactly sure what it would be, but I know I'm going to do it. Not this summer, but next summer.”
If I were not driving the car, I would have dropped to me knees and kissed her feet. That proclamation made my stomach drop and my vision get misty for a few seconds. I was happy, but I wasn't quite sure why. My breathing became ragged and she just chuckled.
Now, I reflect on what I was happy about... I hate needles. I don't really like tattoos. But even thinking about my dislikes makes me horny and weak in the knees. I like the fact that she knows that I hate needles and tattoos and she still wants to mark me in that way.
Of course, right now the idea is merely fantasy. Two summers from now is a long time away. But... I remember my Mistress's chuckle and I know that it's more than fantasy.
From my own experiences as the dominant in some relationships in the past, I know that some changes are nurtured slowly. When you want your submissive to do something for you that goes against their natural inclinations, you introduce the idea and link it to pleasing you. You play with it as an idea and tease them with it, and if you are successful at playing with the idea, by the time the actual deed is done, the submissive is practically begging the dominant to have it done.
I can see that starting to happen to me.
I am required to wear my wedding ring while she will almost never wears hers. It's one of the ways that she reminds me that I am owned and that she is the boss. This morning, in the hustle and bustle of getting ready to chauffeur her to work on the way to my own job, I forgot to put her ring on.
Later in the day, when we were driving back home, she noticed that I was not wearing my “man collar” as she likes to call it. She teased me by saying in a mock exasperated voice “What, do you think you are a free boy now? Where is my ring, slaveboy? How can you forget to put your little man-collar on?”
Her teasing has the effect of going straight to my emotions and my loins. I was thrilled to be teased, at the same time as being embarrassed. Frankly, the worst thing in the world would have been if she had not noticed it or did not comment on it. I was not trying to be bad in any way, but once I noticed that I was not wearing the ring, I wanted her to notice it and control me and the situation. Does that make any sense?
In any case, the conversation meandered and at one point Mistress Laura says to me:
“You know... In about a year, if you are still my slaveboy, which I don't see why you wouldn't be... I'm going to put a tattoo on you. I'm not exactly sure what it would be, but I know I'm going to do it. Not this summer, but next summer.”
If I were not driving the car, I would have dropped to me knees and kissed her feet. That proclamation made my stomach drop and my vision get misty for a few seconds. I was happy, but I wasn't quite sure why. My breathing became ragged and she just chuckled.
Now, I reflect on what I was happy about... I hate needles. I don't really like tattoos. But even thinking about my dislikes makes me horny and weak in the knees. I like the fact that she knows that I hate needles and tattoos and she still wants to mark me in that way.
Of course, right now the idea is merely fantasy. Two summers from now is a long time away. But... I remember my Mistress's chuckle and I know that it's more than fantasy.
From my own experiences as the dominant in some relationships in the past, I know that some changes are nurtured slowly. When you want your submissive to do something for you that goes against their natural inclinations, you introduce the idea and link it to pleasing you. You play with it as an idea and tease them with it, and if you are successful at playing with the idea, by the time the actual deed is done, the submissive is practically begging the dominant to have it done.
I can see that starting to happen to me.
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