I Need the Very Thing That Terrifies Me

To be broken, and put back together…

 

It has been a long time since N and I have “played”. I mean, serious intent on pain, broken sobbing, both of us consumed by our intensity kind of scene.

It is exactly what I want, and exactly what I am terrified of. I have no pain tolerance anymore, and the kind of pain I want is mean and hard and icky. I long for the subsumed ego after a good beating, but the journey to get there, although integral to the result, is something I would want to skip. Except maybe not. Falling victim to His desires is something I alternately loathe and ache for.

Even worse, I am hungry for something that I won’t get for a while still. I seek an unreachable experience, and the very fact that it is so far from my grasp makes the yearning stronger.

I do not ask for much, especially in the way of S/m. I know it is a lot of work on His part and as tired as we both are, I don’t want to tire Him more. So I just wait, and dream, and fear.

I think when I finally reach my dream, I will die the tiny little deaths of agony and ecstasy.

I can, and can’t, wait.

 

I Still Have Fingers, Arms and a Head

Good thing last night wasn’t decapitation or limb-chopping night.

Last night, was, well, it was wow. Wow is a good word for it. And minus the first ‘w’, it still applies.

 

Like I wrote yesterday, it started with the butt plug. Eventually He skipped it and we went about our merry ways getting the kids to bed. After they were asleep He made me a drink, which had twice the usual amount of alcohol in it. I commented that I felt like I could breathe fire after taking a drink and He just snickered. He was so upbeat and excited, like a kid right before Christmas morning. He kept swatting my ass and pinching my tits, and it was making me jumpy and skittish.

I had to strip naked, bring my collar to Him and put on my buckle heels, and that is when I started to worry. He tied me to one of the floor jacks in the basement, spreader bar/shackle combo on my legs, spreader bar and velcro cuffs on the wrists, pulled out and above me. I struggled to hold that position in 3.5″ heels while He swarmed me, tugging on my nipples, pinching my ass, nibbling my neck, murmuring that I was right not to trust Him, chuckling as I tottered on my heels…then, the sound of the camera zooming in. I hid my face as He snapped away, laughing at me.

He took the heels off my poor feet and switched to a different style of spreader bars for my ankles, ones without manacles. He “warmed me up” with some light swats and a few bites, then started in with the thin rubber flogger. I jumped and hissed and tried to sink into the pain. Then He grabbed the leather flogger and laid in. Lightly at first, nice punchy hits that I grunted and absorbed. Once He had me lulled He started flicking it, using wrap-around on the hips and chest, intentionally wrapping it around my cunt and nailing me on the really soft flesh of my lower belly. I hissed and growled and screamed when he really bit in with the strands. He’d mock me when I yelped, asking if it hurt, assuring me that He wasn’t swinging real hard. Which is a useless fucking assurance when He’s utilizing wraparound. Really. I am not that damn dumb. The first time He snapped my stomach with it I screamed, and He came into my vision and asked so solicitously “Aw, did that hurt? I didn’t hit that hard.” to which I angrily replied “Yeah, it is called wrap-around, Asshole! Ever heard of it?!” He looked at me with the most straightest of faces and said coolly “Yes, yes I have.” before doing it again. And again, and again…

The hitting of me with various stingy instruments was randomly interrupted by moments where He would press me into the beam while finger-fucking my ass or my cunt, biting my neck and mocking me more. I struggled so hard to fight back the orgasm, to deny the pleasure, even as my cunt squelched and I could smell the musky aroma of my own betrayal. He fucked me with the handle of the rubber flogger, then whipped me with it. I cursed Him, His mother, the day He was born..

He let me down after a while and reached for the ring on my collar to drag me into the bedroom. Not knowing why His hand was reaching for me, I flinched back. He grinned before grabbing the ring, and that’s when I started to really feel the tingle in my belly that means the fear-monster is rising. He was letting the inner Asshole come out to play, and that meant it would be a long hard night.

In the bedroom He tells me to drink more of the lemonade mixer He made me. I had to lay my head over the edge of the bed after that (me protesting the whole time that if I puked it would “be on Him”, get it, aren’t I a laugh?) for some facefucking, pictures required. He attacked my clit as I struggled to swallow Him, and I was so confused my the mixed signals of “No Air!” and “Want to Cum!” going on in my brain. I was so damned turned on by this point that any more than 2 minutes of His attention to my clit made me ready to explode, which was always when He would remove said attention. After He’d had enough of the facefucking He got out the rope again and tied me up tight in a tit harness. He sat at the edge of the bed and diddled me as I sat astride His lap, and everytime I went to moan He smothered me with His huge rough hand. Smothering is one thing when you get to take a breath before hand. When it hits you on the exhale, it takes a lot less time till panic sets in. At some point it became too hard for Him to control me while He was sitting, so He shoved me into the wall and kissed me violently, raping my mouth with His tongue as His hands roamed across my body pinching, pulling, scratching, mauling. He hungrily sucked away my screams and pleas. Then He threw me across the bed, and I didn’t have the will to do anything but lay where I landed. I was gasping, trying to catch my breath. First He pulled out the locking bit gag, strapped that on tight. Then it was the blindfold. I balked at that, I know it is cheating, but I like to know what is coming at me, dammit. He commanded me to all fours, and I slowly complied, warily.

I know it is clichéd, but after the first few light hits with the mahogany bastard, I trembled with fear and pain. I hate that fucking paddle. Hate HATE HATE it. It bites, it stings, it quickly reduces me to a shaking sobbing pile of bitch. I stayed on all fours for the beginning, but as the hits started getting nastier I was doing everything I could to minimize the blows. It seemed like everything I tried just made a nice target of something else, and I began to throw myself forward or on my side. He crawled on top of me, pinning me to the bed, and continued to whale on my ass, my thighs, my back. I screamed. I gagged. I cried, I begged…I bucked and heaved and clawed…and then I broke. I sniffled into the sheets and laid limp, unable to fight anymore.

He laughingly asked me if a good fuck sounded good right about then, and I wholly agreed…only the tone of His voice had me worried that my definition of a good fuck wasn’t going to be the same as His. I was right…it wasn’t. He had me get hooked up to the fucking machine and suck on Him as I was fucked by the insistent yet impersonal toolbox buddy. As I gobbled N’s cock He fingered my ass again, teasing me with accusations of being an anal slut, shaming me about my love/hate relationship I have with ass love. After a bit of this the machine dong fell out, so while I went upstairs to clean up a little He made a few changes. When I got back, He gave me two choices: more of the DP with the fucking machine, or N in my ass. Knowing that N was going to end up in my ass at some point or another, I chose to get it over with early. Stupid me.

He had me climb on Him, which is my absolute least favorite position for anal, mainly because He can see my face and can further deride and humiliate me about liking anal. And oh, did He. The stream of mocking, sharp comments was constantly on me, and all I could do was whisper “Shut up, I hate You” over and over as my cunt dripped and my nipples tingled. After a bit of this He pushed me off and told me to get back on all fours and fuck myself with the another dong from the fucking machine. I did so, face flushed with shame and embarrassment, and then He mounted and shoved His cock into my ass. I groaned and moaned and whimpered, tears edging out of my eyes as the pressure built. I struggled to catch my breath against the pain even as the orgasm built inside of me.  I inched forward on the bed, trying to lessen the blows to my abused orifices from His thrusts, and the dong fell out. Now it was just N, slamming into my sore ass, and I was flattened to the bed, His weight pinning me in place as He buried Himself in my ass over and over again. I cried out from the pain as He made His final thrust, filling my ass with His come. Hoping that He was satiated, I asked for a towel to clean up with, and He tossed me a towel to sit on, then suggested that He beat some more sense into me. I begged and wheedled, assuring Him that I was well-informed of my place in the world, tyvm. So instead, I was due for some more fucking, and finally allowed that damned orgasm that had been mocking me all night. When it finally hit, I’m pretty sure my heart stopped and I took ten minutes off of my life.

Aftercare consisted of me helping Him put away the instruments of doom toys and cleaning up myself. I drank a little juice and nibbled on a piece of cheese while He showered, then headed back to the bedroom and collapsed into a pile of well-used girl.

Today He has delighted in all the marks He left on me, and has used every chance available to grope slap and pinch my bruised ass. I have rope burn from the tit harness He wrapped me in, bruises all over my ass, sore spots on my thighs from where He pinned me to the bed, a split lip, and an invisible bruise on my forehead where I kept hitting my head on the floor jack pole as He was flogging me. He thinks it is hilarious and is still on me, poking and prodding to get me to whimper. I’m learning to press my ass against flat surfaces whenever He’s near me.

 

Camaraderie and “Ow Fuck!”

First things first, I’d like to give a kudos to the gracious and awesome hosts of the munch last night: Thank you so much, DrHoagie and Hoagie’s nadira, for creating a space for such a wonderful time. You guys rock!

Last night N and I attended the local munch and had an unexpected blast. I mean, we expected to have a good time and get to know people better, but we hadn’t anticipated it being that much fun. So much talking, laughing, owie things, playing with cats and teasing the SAMs, I’m just smiling thinking of it again. The food was wonderful, the camaraderie was comforting, the modeling was gorgeous and the sincerity warm.

I sat by N’s feet in the living room for most of the evening, after the food had been served. Someone who must not like me very much had given Him a crop with a heavy metal-capped handle, so He randomly whapped me wherever it was convenient. Soles of feet, toes, inner thighs, tits, upper arms…with both the stingy crop end and the heavy handle. Whap, whap, thud, CRACK! Another woman who is quite the entertaining SAM (SmartAssed Masochist) was on the floor next to me, trying to avoid her good friend who was armed with a lexane paddle. At one point, trying to be all smooth like, I gave the mistress the crop, but that just inspired N to get out this studded leather strap and beat me with that instead. The SAM said it leaves nice marks, and damn was she right…through my fucking jeans, with N only going maybe half force, I’ve got little stud-shaped bruises on my thigh.

Through my jeans. He is *so* not getting that strap for His birthday.

At one point there were three D/O types in the living room with pain instruments in their grasp and two s-types that needed to get through the gauntlet to the kitchen. She tried to throw me under the bus, but as I have extensive experience with being thrown under the bus by kaya, I managed to skip out on most of the serious pain. The one thing I did stupidly was put my hand across my ass trying to block a shot from a 1/2″ thick quartz paddle. Ow, fuck! I caught the edge of the paddle across my thumb joint and it instantly puffed up and stopped doing the things joints do. Today the swelling is down but the mobility is still a bit reduced. Lesson learned: when someone is coming after you with a paddle made out of fucking rock, your hand will not save you. Any unintended pain received is most likely your fault. 🙂  I loved it. Hopefully next time I have an encounter with that Master and his quartz paddle my hands will stay in their proper places.

After a few people wandered back home the little group left sat until past midnight bullshitting. The topics ranged from atheism to circular arguments common in BDSM to off-color jokes and wedding cakes. I haven’t had a good laugh in ages like I did last night. To a person (or a couple, really) used to being self-reliant loners based on our personal makeup as well as our chosen relationship dynamic, being able to have a group that we can really be ourselves and not feel so ostracized means a lot to us both.

I think I could come to like being a bit more social again. 😀

And the Getting is Good! (04-20-2010)

Battered but better.

So, it’s been awhile since i posted. i’ve been a busy slavebitch in a number of ways. He’s had me running from sun-up to sun-down, and then a bit beyond that.

i wrote my last post from a very insecure, anxious and torn up place. i have made my life as His slave my calling, the purpose of my life from which all things flow. i misinterpreted His actions of the last month as seeing me as an unnecessary part of His life,  an option, a tiresome obligation. A common saying is “Never make a person a priority when you are an option” and boy did that really get the mind running. i could feel it building and cracked down to squelch the feud. Resentment was rampant. Fury wasn’t far behind. i balked. i yelled, i cried, i turned away,  i retreated. He stood there and asked “What the fuck?!” He never went anywhere, and eventually i was forced to confront my issues and clue Him into the torturous maze of my mind. After a lot of heavy lifting and memories i would have rather not gone through, i finally hammered out an approach. We had it out. He mentally smacked me around a bit for being so obstinate and dense. i reminded Him that while yes, it’s good to be King, it ain’t as easy as it’s cracked up to be. There’s work involved, and when He decides to take a sabbatical, well, the property is bound to come undone a bit.

Basically, it boiled down to He had mentally gone away, and i was left to my own destructive devices. Then when He looked up and said “What the hell happened to you?!” i shrugged helplessly and said “You left.” It hurt to say it. It hurt to lower the pedestal He rests on. It hurt to accept that i am not a good enough slave for Him to be able to check out of the O/p shit for a few months and come back later to find me still running along right where He left me. It is what it is, yes, but it still hurts, and not in a good way.

Speaking of being hurt, i was. A lot. He whomped on me a few different times.  With lots of deliciously degrading sex, malicious molestation, intimately infiltrating my mind again. i’ll be writing that up for a different post. 🙂

Now He’s back. He’s been easing into the active presence in my life again. Rules are actually enforced again. When He tells me to shut up, He means it. He’s kept me busy in the evenings instead of letting me have full rein on my time. After having my life to myself, it’s a bit of an adjustment to have Him in full form again. Tongue and lips have been gnawed to keep unwelcome comments to myself. Ultimately, we will be better off for this.

i know it is hard for both of us when things break down like that. i am so very thankful that He is willing to put in the extra effort to put the pieces back to together when i fall apart and take everything with me.

My Idea of Torture is not His Idea of Torture (03-29-2010)

i’ll set the scene for everyone: two exhausted parents, with way too much stuff to do and not enough time to do it, finally convince someone to take the kids for a night. This is on par with the planets aligning in a straight line.  Whatever do you think they will do whilst the children are away?

I can assure you of this: it ain’t sleeping.

That’s right, I conned sweet-talked my dad into taking all three of the anklebiters for a night so The Man and i could finally relate to each other on a plane different than Dad and Mom. When i got back from dropping them off, i was elated and anxious, if i’d had a tail i would have been wagging it so hard it would have hit me in the nose.  i’d been asking for a beating like no other…one that would leaving me snuffling and slumped, twitching and walking like an old grandma for a few days. It’s been a long time since a beating like that. i’d been craving one for quite some time and was hoping that this could be my chance to relish getting the snot whomped outta me.

We puttered in the garage, cutting paddles out and sanding them down, laughing and enjoying the camaraderie.  Went inside, He tells me to get the razor: it was time to ‘shear the sheep’ as i so delicately put it.  So He shaves me, and oh, it is such a trust building activity, to let Him get near my nether-parts with a sharp vibrating blade, without trembling in fear or squirming to close my legs from the detached appraising look He has when judging if the job is done. They both are so… invading, so intimate. Remember that word, kids: we will be revisiting it. Anyway, i bounce off to the shower and shave the rest of me, towel off, and start arranging myself into the corset and stocking He picked out. Suddenly we realize that it’s quite late for me to be making a delish supper, so i put on a long skirt, did up my make-up and off to town we went, for supper and drinks.

While i was putting on my face, He came in behind and started to maul me. Lately He’s been in a vicious mood in regards to my poor poor ass…each and every time it presents itself as a likely target, there’s N, pinching and smacking me to exasperation. It’s become such an accustomed thing that i get twitchy and start to press my ass against flat surfaces if He’s wandering behind me.  So when He slid behind me in the bathroom and placed His hands on my ass-cheeks, i tensed and frowned, waiting for the pain, waiting for the assault. Instead, to my flabbergasted surprise, He caressed me gently, rubbing, sliding His hands up and down my hips, inside my shirt to rub and massage my tits, kissing my neck and nibbling on my ear. i would have fallen in shock if He hadn’t been holding me against Him. i could see Him smirking against the flesh of my neck as my mouth hung open with pleasant shock. After nearly a month of ass-focused abuse, this sudden gentleness was so strong and powerful that i was at a loss. Then He strolls away, leaving me witless and trying desperately to remember what exactly it was i was doing in the bathroom anyhow.

We got to town, had a very nice supper complete with chick-watching, discussed going for dessert, but the line was much too long so we headed back home. Once home, i changed into the corset He loves and pranced around the house in a head-stall, collar, corset and stocking, perched on 3.5 inch heels. Played a round of cards that ended with me spanking Him severely  (in points, that is lol). Now part way through this round of cards, He had me go lay in the chair and spread my legs. i immediately blushed and looked down as i did so. Being so exposed…it’s horrible for me. To my absolute shock, He crouched down and proceeded to go down on me.

Cunnilingus in His house is a rare thing. Fine with me, because i don’t find it so appealing. i love to go down on a woman, but to have it done to me, makes me all anxious and shuddery. i worry about being clean. i worry about whether it takes too long for me to come. i worry about being so exposed, so vulnerable, so intimate with another human being. i worry about all those things being horribly abused, like they were 16 years ago.

This time, this time was different. Instead of worrying about all those things, i closed my eyes tight and just focused on Him. What His fingers were doing, what His tongue was doing, what His teeth were doing. This time, i could feel pleasure building in me, so fast, so strong. i could ride the waves as they rocked up and down my spine. He nibbled and tugged, bit and sucked, petted and thrust, and i knew that this time, for the first time in years, i was going to come from a man going down on me. i thought i was going to cry when i begged to come. He growled at me “You better” and i screamed as it rushed through me, He bit my lips and bit my clit and licked and i was ready to just curl up and be done with anything but a very deep nap. He had other plans and stroked me until the rebellion in my pussy rose again, dragging out painful mini-orgasms and making me beg Him to stop.

Finally, He did. And we returned to our card game, which i firmly accused Him of trying to cheat by distracting me.

i know it is silly for property to have intimacy issues. i mean, ffs, i bore Him three kids, He was right there in the room holding my hand and helping me push, He saw me pee on the nurse during the final moments…but i can’t handle the thought of Him seeing me spread-legged and exposed? About the worst thing He can do to me is sit on the couch and say “Masturbate for My pleasure”. When i hear those words, i fervently hope the world will swallow me whole. i can tell Him my greatest fears, let Him beat me black and blue…but drag my feet and shake with anxiety when He tells me to spread my legs so He can play with His toy (me).

i never said i made sense. i am just damned glad that i was able to let go of my neuroses long enough to truly feel the pleasure He was so hell-bent on giving me.

Thank You, Master.