Following

I was responding to a comment and something came up that I thought I’d bring to a more public place for discussion. Those of us that write a blog all have certain things we do as part of this blogging way of life. It’s not just write, publish and reap millions of readers’ love and adoration. Is it? I mean, if it is for you that’s insanely good. Move along, there’s nothing for you here.

Like I said in my last post, this is a blogging platform not specifically a social one. If you want it to become a social one you have to work at it. Most followers at the beginning to middle stages of a blog are other blog writers. We’re interested and we’re here a lot more than general readers. It just stands to reason that we are each other’s audience to a great extent. What that means is that there is reciprocation needed. You can’t just write and move on with your day if you want to build a community.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read a blog post about someone’s guilt related to not reading all their followers’ posts. I feel that guilt all the time. I’m sure many of you do too…I’ve read it. I’ve gone back and forth with this guilt. I’ve tried to read through and comment on every subscription email I receive on your posts. I’ve tried to have a laissez-faire attitude of “I’ll read the ones that really interest me,” because I can’t read them all. Then I’ve fallen completely off the wagon and deleted them all in one swift fire sale of frustration. I haven’t found the sweet spot of following.

My question is what do you do? How do you handle the flow? How do you build community? I see some folks who have succeeded. They have a nice group of consistent commenters and they are having a grand time. I post a comment in the midst of their conversation and it makes me smile. I feel the glow coming from their light.

I know not everyone has the same goal. People blog for many different reasons. My own reasons vacillate back and forth. I write because I love to write. I write for my Dominant. He loves to read and it thrills me to thrill him. This is a way I can serve him and show my love. He likes to use my writing to assess how I did with his choice of scenes. He is a process thinker, an engineer. He needs input and I don’t always want to talk it all through. I love talking to him but I don’t always volunteer information, so I write and it’s

another way to communicate.

I am a social person and a service person. My submission to Daddy has a big service element. My work and parenting also have a service element. This means that I don’t do anything in a vacuum or just for myself. Which leads me to realize that I need to give weight to that in my writing endeavors too. I thrive on feedback. I thrive in a community. When the community or service aspect of my writing dwindles, I stop wanting to write as much.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on building a blogging community, how you are a good follower or why you write. Thank you to all who read and follow me. You are truly my lifeblood here.

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The Shower

In Cancun, our room had the most fabulous shower.  It was an entire room worth of space.  It had shelves of towels, a bench seat, a handheld shower head and one of those rainforest showers that rain down on you from the ceiling.  

The first day we were at the resort together I had a great time in the pool with all the ladies.  We had drinks and fun in the sun.  Daddy and El Jefe sat on our swim-up patio and watched the girls while smoking cigars.  

Ending the day in the pool, we all made plans for the evening dinner.  I gave Daddy a kiss and went to wash off.  As I stripped off my bikini and turned on the water I felt a presence behind me. It was Daddy.  “I realized where you were going and wanted to be here for your first experience of the shower.”

I turned and smiled as he shucked off his shorts and joined me.  He pulled me into his arms under the water. It was pure heaven.  He held me as he kissed me while the gentle rain of water fell over us. It was incredible. 

He began to kiss me more fervantly.  Along with several rummy drinks, his kisses served to kindle my ardor.  One wall of the shower was marble up to the waist and glass from there to the ceiling.  The window looked out on the room with our friends in clear view on the patio.  If El Jefe had turned around he would have seen me pushed up against that glass as Daddy plumbed my depths with his fingers. 

Knowing we would have folks in the room readying to leave soon, Daddy pulled back and said we should finish getting clean. I wanted to keep getting dirty but I heard him and followed his command. 

Sudsing up a bar of hotel soap I got to wash Daddy from head to toe.  Mmm, my slick and slippery hands touched every part of his body.  I was careful on his sunburnt shoulders but I loved feeling the expanse of his masculine back.  His very wide shoulders taper down to his rock hard ass…mmm.  I kept going further down and washed his toned, tight calves, his feet, then came back up to slide my fingers around his cock and balls.  I could have done that all day.  

We found every opportunity that week to shower together. I recall one particularly hot session where I ended up sitting on the floor sucking his cock. (Marble floors do not lend well to kneeling.)

Anyhow, I just had to share our fabulous shower in Mexico.

Facial Touch

Have you ever noticed there are levels of intimacy within the whole scope of touching?  Clearly sexual touch is intimate, you only do it with people you want to share that experience with usually.  The best sexual touch happens with someone you are emotionally intimate with.

I was thinking today that other touching also carries differing levels of intimacy.  You hold hands with people you are close to like your children and also your husband or wife.  That one isn’t sexual at all.  

Face touching also falls in the category of intimate touch. I touch my child’s face and also my lover’s.  There is something so intimate about it.  I feel such a closeness being allowed to stroke Daddy’s face.  I feel like the most inner of his inner circles.  I love the sensation and the intimacy, it fulfills something deep inside me.

I’m the same way with my child.  He loves when I touch him, it eases his angst to have his arm touched or to get a hug.  If we’re all piled on the couch I notice I randomly touch whichever of my guys I can reach. I love that.  It calms me too.  It puts me in a cocoon of warm, intimate calm.

I learned too late to allow my mom to do this.  My dad has always been the parent I had the closest connection with.  Dad always had tickle fights and all us kids would pile onto his bed for stories or wrestling or just to talk. He was at ease and comfortable around us.  Mom was very loving but she didn’t really extend that love to touch while we were growing up. She wanted massages from me all the time but she wasn’t a ‘warm fuzzy’ kind of person.  

In my later years she began reaching over to me at parties to cup my face in her hand.  It felt invasive and out of place.  I allowed it because I loved her and didn’t want to hurt her feelings.  I look back now and wish I had welcomed that touch more. 

I love to give and receive touch but I really have an addiction to touching Daddy. He is so touchable.  I can close my eyes and feel him now.  It brings the warmth and calmness to me even though he’s not here. 

Implements of Torture

To christen our new home in a new state I wanted to get Daddy something special, something to enhance our D/s lifestyle. We had seen a beautiful Bison flogger together when we chose my collar.  I had thought about it many times since then and he had mentioned it too. So, that is what I chose for him.  

While I was on the Stockroom website I looked around at other things too.  I found a beautifully made tawse.  I was so excited to find it.  Tawses are old school implements that teachers in England and Scotland used to discipline children.  They are usually made from one single piece of leather with a handle.  The long slapper is split down the middle and looks something like a tuning fork in shape. The split is supposed to give it a distinctive sting.  This one has a handsome pattern stamped on the handle.  It is very nice, very quality-made.  

Tawse from Stockroom

Daddy asked me to look around in Scotland when I was there for a tawse.  I never found one.  I researched them and found out that they stopped using them in schools decades ago.  So, I was doubly excited to be able to fulfill this desire.  

The Bison leather made the new flogger quite a bit heavier than his cowhide floggers.  It also has a smooth and shapely Granadillo wood handle. I loved the feel of it and really hoped he liked using it.  When we got to the house and unpacked I tucked both toys under my side of the bed for the right time to give them to him.  

Bison Flogger from Stockroom

Monday came and after our errands and lunch Daddy said he wanted to beat me.  “Is that alright with you?” He asked.

“That sounds perfect to me Daddy.”  He knows I will never turn down play time.  It is my absolute favorite pastime. 

I knelt on the floor on my side of the bed at his feet.  “I have a surprise for you Daddy.  I wanted to give you something to celebrate the beginning of our life here in this new place.”  I brought out the flogger first and then the tawse.  

He was very pleased with both of his gifts. “Thank you very much baby girl.  If you want to play now, go present yourself.”  I rose from his feet and went into the spanking room.

(I have no affiliation to the Stockroom.  I’m just a happy customer.  I hope by linking to their site that they will be okay with me showing you their pictures.)

Yes Please

Yes Please”On the bed, face down.” I gingerly crawled on the bed, doing my best not to lose the plug in my ass. As tight as it was going in, I had the hardest time holding onto the thing. It was lubed and as I moved my muscles worked against me, pushing the thing out at the most inopportune moments. 
I laid on my stomach waiting. Daddy sat on the bed near me. The first thing I felt was the plug being pushed inside me deeper. I moaned, feeling the pressure of it inside me.  
He caressed my ass cheeks and I knew what came next. A crop to each cheek. He was not gentle, there was not a warm up this time.  
There were crop strikes again then the plug was pushed deeper. Each round of strikes was followed by the plug being pushed again. Essentially, he was fucking me with the plug. 

 
I had no further fear of losing the plug that night. When he fucked me later, I could still feel the muscle memory of the plug…pushing in. 

Poly Play – Part Two

I’m told I’m a tease to leave Poly Play just sitting out there without wrapping up the story.  What can I say, I’m a cock tease, but I always come through with the goods. 😜

There wasn’t much left to the story but it seemed more than could be told in one telling.  I never saw it but Coupe and Lady got hot and heavy on the chaise lounge after we vacated it.  Damn, I miss all the good stuff.  I’d have paid good money to see that.  

After kissing El Jefe and coming over to Daddy to see if he approved of all I had done, I didn’t see much else.  I was still wondering how Coupe was taking all this.  Even though I’m quite timid myself sometimes, I worried about how he was taking this initial foray into Poly life.  

Daddy pointed in front of him and put a pillow down for me to kneel. He pulled his shorts down and commanded me to suck.  I was at once thankful to be given this duty and relieved that I would be occupied with something that kept me from view.  I was feeling overwhelmed by it all and suddenly shy.  I took his cock in my mouth and wrapped my arms around his legs.  My face was completely hidden by his thighs and my hair. Blessed anonymity, I love you so.

Apparently, while I was going down on Daddy, Coupe was also getting a blowjob right behind me on the chaise. I saw and heard nothing. Goddess and El Jefe were on the couch next to us basking in the glow of their experience. 

Goddess leaned over and gave Daddy a kiss.  After a while of me going down on him, he chose for me to stop.  I came up for air and joined the conversation with El Jefe and Goddess. Coupe and Lady and disappeared to their room.  Later, Lady told us she had taken Coupe to the room for a proper fucking.  

As the four of us were talking, Coupe and Lady came to the sliding glass door naked and made faces at us through the glass. Coupe pressed his naked ass to the steamy glass and what a cute, tight, young ass it was too.  I had never seen him naked before.  Seems I missed quite a lot while I was face down in Daddy’s lap. 

Daddy took me into our room and fucked me hard. His hand on my neck, his voice whispering to me that I was his.  I was his slut, his slave, his whore.  Damn that gets me twisted up in such an incredible fervor.

Later in the afternoon, I was on the couch with Lady.  I think everyone was having snacks at that point.  After all the sex and alcohol, everyone was hungry.  I had my head on Lady’s lap.  She was whispering things to me as the others talked and ate. I was still in a bit of a stupor from the day. 

“You love being watched.  You love being the center of attention.  You little tease, you love us watching you and seeing you on display. You perform for us and we want to see what you do.” As she whispered such provocative things in my ear I wondered about them.  Do I? Do I love being watched? Am I hungry for that kind of attention? I honestly didn’t know if she was reading me or talking about her desire to watch. I had only been a helper in the events of that particular day.  I was not at all the center of things.  Goddess and El Jefe were the birthday pair and we treated them thusly.  In my drunken musings as I listened to Lady’s words I wondered about what I was and what I wanted to be.  Food for thought, anyway.

Dungeon Flogging Class

We arrived at our flogging class.  It was at a local dungeon with about 20 other people attending.  The instructor was very good, I thought. He showed us a slow motion technique to learn Florentine flogging.  This is a two-handed flogging technique.  There are patterns that you can learn.  The first was a four step pattern and the second was a six step pattern.  Mr. D and I both felt the six step pattern was actually a little easier to pick up.

We practiced the patterns while the instructor came around and watched each of us and gave us pointers.  Even though this was Mr. D’s first time with Florentine he was well practiced at flogging already.  The instructor said to him, “I doubt I’m teaching you anything at all.” 

It was really fun. I hate to admit it but I haven’t practiced at all since then.  I would love to get to the point where I’m really good at it.  I would love to flog people and give them that release and that experience.  I don’t think there is anything wrong with a submissive topping someone to give them pleasure.  It seems to me this would be one more service I can offer.

There was a play party after the class so we stayed at the dungeon for that as well.  It started very slowly because it was pretty early.  We sat and watched the crowd grow and listened to some nearby conversations between our classmates.  One woman from the class entertained us by being an attention seeking person. I had noticed her in class.  She was overly eager for anyone to notice her.  It’s fun to people watch but even more so at a dungeon. The personalities are more pronounced.

After a bit, one couple began rope play in the middle of the great room. It was mesmerizing to watch the detail and concise movements of the guy tying the ropes.  His girlfriend was a petite thing and he tied her quickly and well.  He ended up suspending her from a wire placed above the room for that purpose.  It was an interesting scene to watch.

After they were done, Mr. D and I walked about the dungeon looking into all the rooms. We saw a woman from the class with her Dominant.  She was absolutely gorgeous and we had both remarked on her looks during the class.  Her Dominant had her stretched over a pummel horse and was doing different things to her.  Things like flogging and spanking but the interesting part to me was that we watched him punch her repeatedly in the back.  It wasn’t like he was angry at all.  It was a part of their sensation play.  I commented to Mr. D and he knew about that type of play.  He said it was impact play and gives a release similar to massage.  

Mr. D asked the DM (Dungeon Master – a person in charge of monitoring the play in the dungeon) how we could use a room. At this dungeon, they had white boards at each door so you simply wrote your name on the board and then you had an hour.  We took the last open room.  It had dark painted walls, a couch and a large massage table. 

“Take off your skirt and your top baby girl.  You can leave on whatever else you like.” I stripped off my skirt, my top, and my bra.  I stood before him in a black thong and strappy black shoes with silver studs.  I’m not sure why I left the shoes on.  I suppose for effect but I later regretted it.  It was a challenge being bent over in the shoes.

“Bend over the table.” His hands caressed me and prepped my skin for the flogger.  Even though I’m a chunky girl, I felt completely fine stripping down in the dungeon. Mr. D puts me at such ease.  His clearly apparent desire for me and his admiration of my curves puts any hesitation I would normally have right out of my mind. If he wants me naked, I get naked.  I’m his to do with as he pleases and to show off as he wishes.

He flogged me for a good amount of time.  There were a few times where he hit me with the flogger and the falls rapped around my body and it stung across my waist and my stomach.  This is very unusual.  Mr. D is very skilled with one handed flogging.  He told me later that all the practice we had done in class has worn out his arm.  He tried a couple left handed strikes to test out his non-dominant arm but clearly did not have the same control.

He had all his implements laid upon the bed next to my head.  I knew what was there, the floggers, the little silicon whip and the stingy hand paddle. He used the little whip and I felt the stinginess more deeply than during the flogging.  The flogging he gave me was hard but there is a different level of sting with the whip.  Then he rubbed the smooth paddle on my ass.  I moaned.

“Yes, you know what that is, don’t you? Beg me for the paddle.”

“Please Daddy, please give me the paddle.” 

He paddled me with it then.  I squirmed and tried to get away from the stingy thing at first.  It has such a concentrated sting and he knows my aversion to it.  Then something happened.  I told myself not to squirm away.  I tried to stay still no matter how much I wanted to flee it.  The more I did that the more I began to like it and want more.

Mr. D stopped and ran his hands over my red ass.  He whispered in my ear and pressed his body into mine.  “I want you baby girl.” His fingers pushed into my sex.  “Mmm, you’re wet.”

“I want you too Daddy.  Please fuck me.” I moaned and pushed my ass into him as proof.

“I want to, but where baby girl?” 

“Right here Daddy, oh please.”

“No baby girl, not here.” 

I sighed.  I ached for him.  I needed him inside me right then.  I could care less who was watching through the doorway.  It probably helped that I was bent over, couldn’t see them and Daddy’s scent and dominance filled my head.

Mr. D was stopping.  We weren’t going to have sex and he was stopping.  I wanted him and I wanted more.  My odd change of heart with the stingy paddle still had my attention.

“Please Daddy may I have more of the paddle?” My voice was soft so he made me ask again.  I really wanted it.  He agreed and took the paddle to my ass fiercely. It was incredible.  The heat, the pain and the sting were palpable.  I was beyond the fear and I wanted every hit he gave me.  I loved it all, took it all.

Afterwards, he gave me aftercare and we said our goodbyes. On the way home Mr. D said, “I was really surprised you asked for the paddle again.”

“So was I.”