Cry if You Must

“Kneel for me by the bed. Take the vibrator and put it on your clit,” he said. I did as told.

Already I was defeated. I knew this would be fruitless. I had no delusions that I’d be able to give him an orgasm this way. My body was decidedly not ready to be turned on. Have you ever had those days?  One where you knew it was going to take a lot to get your motor running?

I told myself to push those defeatist thoughts out of my mind and damned well do what Daddy wanted. I got on my knees near to the bed.  He laid on the bed so our faces were close together.  I was naked and put the vibrator on my clit on low speed.  As Daddy talked in my ear, my body warmed to the idea. The vibration awakened my clit and it began to feel good. 

All the while, Daddy talked in my ear.  “You’re my good little slut, my whore and you’re going to give me what I want aren’t you?”

I cringed. I was certain my knees would give out far faster than my mind would submit and allow me an orgasm. I whimpered in agreement and kept going. 

The more he talked the more my body responded.  His filthy talk and the names he called me spun into a sinful cyclone of pleasure.  I ached to obey. I longed for him to keep going, to debase me further. 

“You’re my dirty cum whore.  You will cum for me.” Damn, I wanted to so badly.  My knees were shooting pain but my body was finally kicking into high gear. 

I whimpered again.  I was getting frustrated with myself.  There seemed no passing a certain point, no thrusting myself over the edge.  The pain in my knees was interfering with my progress.  I looked up to him as my body slumped on the side of the bed. “Cry if you must but you will cum for me.”  He turned the vibrator to high.

Damn! I swear if I had any hope of cumming in this position that would have sent me over the edge.  That was fucking hot! All the times I ached for Harsh Daddy flooded into my mind…every last fantasy that he now fulfilled.  

It occurred to me that my feet were now completely asleep.  I cried and kept that cursed vibrator where he wanted it though.  I’d be damned if I was going to let my Fantasy Dom Incarnate down after he gave me what I always craved. Fuck. 

Finally, I looked up to him with tears in my eyes.  I was so dejected that my body had no hope of rising above the pain to achieve the goal he demanded. “What is it, slut?” He asked.

I paused and agonized but finally said, “My knees are in pain and my feet are asleep Daddy.  May I please stop?”  He gave me permission. 

Later he asked why on earth I didn’t call my safe word earlier, but really how could I?  This is what I’ve always wanted. 

The Beatings will Continue until Morale Improves

Mr. D and I had a couples massage for a treat.  I had a woman who gave an incredibly deep massage.  My shoulders and upper back were quite sore when she was done.  She told me to let her know if she was hurting me, but when you’re supposed to be a masochist and your Dominant is lying next to you it feels pretty ridiculous to tell a short round woman, “Oh please stop, that hurts.”  She said I was a mess, I took her word for it and let her do her job.  

We stopped at Daddy’s favorite cigar bar and I met some friends of his. We enjoyed a few drinks and later arrived home.   We laid on the bed for a bit, we were nicely toasty by then. He told me to stay as he left the room so I took off my clothes and knelt in obeisance waiting for him.  When he returned he took my hand and led me to the spanking bench. 

I was so happy that he wanted impact play.  I love every expression of what he does to me.  I mount the bench and I am his. I am his willing plaything.  My hair falls over my face and I’m cocooned in the sensations he provides.  His voice caresses me while his instruments play across my body.

Many times it is impact play and other things as well.  He has tied me to the bench, he has facefucked me on the bench.  He has made me wear plugs and other inserted things.  This time though it was pure impact play.  

He used a feather duster to awaken my skin and tease my nerve endings. Then he used a long leather flogger to prime me.  I so love that flogger.  It is heavy yet he wields it in such a way that it can provide thuddy pleasure.  After he warmed me up with soft strokes he used this flogger to give me its bite and sting. I squirmed on the bench when he did this.  The bite of it makes me whimper and move away from it. But this warms my skin and makes me feel completely alive.   

He knows when I have reached my limit on one area of my body so he switches to another.  He used several different crops on my back.  With the soreness lingering from the massage I felt every biting smack of those crops.  It wasn’t a respite from the pain it just moved the playing field.  

“I want you to slip away and fly but I don’t think you will today.”  I wondered how he knew.  I felt languid and fully under his spell but he was right, I didn’t feel like I would go into subspace.  He switched to the heavy buffalo flogger.  This flogger is fairly new to us.  When he wields it the impact packs an intense wallop.  The sensation is very like being punched. Every strike to my ass jolts me forward on the bench and forces my voice and breath from me.  I hear myself grunting as the hit ricochets through me. I absolutely love it.  I feel every ounce of his power in those strikes.  I am putty under his punishing blows.   I want more, ever more.

Again he switched to something new.  He never rests from the onslaught but he is in my head.  He knows when to change rhythm, when to move from back to thighs to ass.  We are a matched pair dancing the timeless steps of the sadist and masochist.  He comes around to my face and holds a piece of leather to my lips.  “The one I made especially for you, slut.” It was the slapper he had fashioned himself.  I ran my lips over it, bit it lightly to feel it in my teeth. God, how I love this man. 

When he was done he told me, “Rise when you are ready.  Hold the sides and step down, one foot at a time.” I rose and was relieved I had listened to him and held on.  I was so limp I would have fallen.  I wasn’t in subspace all the way but I was certainly very deep into the sensations and experience. It took me time to come back together. 

“Look what you do to me.  I’ve been dripping the whole time.” I held his hand to steady myself and saw that his cock was hard and he was indeed dripping. I can’t tell you how much that thrills me.  To know that he clearly is very turned on by what we do gives me such a rush of joy. 

“Run your fingers up the base.” He’s teaching me how to milk him.  I put my fingers around the base of his cock and run them up the vein on the underside of him.  As they reach the tip, his come floods out if I’ve done it right. I took my prize and licked my fingers as he watched. 

The Real Deal

We had drinks then he had me close my eyes and undress in the living room.  He had packages and rustled through them.  Soon he was putting something on me. “Lift your arms, tuck through, there.  Turn around.” He perused his handy work, his hands smoothing the garment on my body.  “Yes, that will do. Damn you are hot. Go look.”

I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror.  I was in a red mesh dress.  Nothing was left to the imagination.  I was a red siren with all my femaleness on display for him.  I returned to him and he took the red off me.  Next came something smaller.  A black body suit.  It was crotchless and backless.  The sides rose high on the hip.  The sheer black material hugged my waist, covering my belly and framed my breasts which were exposed to the touch. 

“I bought these for you but they are most decidedly a gift for me.  Yes, yes they are.  Sometime this weekend you will pose for me in these.  Now, into the bedroom.”

At his direction, I laid on the bed.  He knelt between my spread legs. “Open.” He said.  I held my pussy open for him.  His tongue slid down my clit teasing me, awakening me.  His tongue flicked my clit with feathery strokes setting me on fire.  The fluttery flicks he does with his tongue drive me insane with pleasure.  He latched on and sucked hard. It was so intense, too intense.  It had been a month of no contact and now he was thrumming on my sex hard and fast.  My traitorous body responded.  

First it begins as far too much.  He sucks and works my pussy with an intensity my body rejects.  Too much, too fast.  Then she turns, she bends to his will, ultimately she betrays me.  My clit swells and my hips thrust to meet his assault.  I want it all.  I want the intensity and the heat then I lose all control. 

Rolling and bucking on the bed under him, I am on the bitter edge of orgasm.  His tongue has opened me, his power has drawn me out.  I am a willing prisoner in full abandonment to his will. 

He pulls up from my crotch and asks, “What are you to do when I give you an order, when I give you homework slut?” Oh shit. 

“I am to obey. I must obey Daddy.”

“That’s right. And if it’s hard?”

“I still must obey.” He was right and I knew this.  I felt horrible all over again for letting him down.

“Yes slut, because you still must obey when it’s hard.  Especially when it’s hard. That’s why it’s service.”  He had me utterly exposed and vulnerable. “Hold open your pussy.” That was when I saw the crop in his hand.  I whimpered, knowing he had played me. He had suckled my clit until it was swollen and raw with need so that this would really hurt.

The crop came down right on my clit and the pain exploded throughout my entire body.  “No Daddy, no please!” I knew I had to take the punishment, wanted to even, but I had not expected this pain.  It is the absolute center of me and he was inflicting precision blows with the crop. It was all I could do to stay open for him. 

I cried and he continued with the crop.  “You understand that I must punish you?”

“Yes Daddy, y..ye..esss.” I tried to catch my breath, it was useless.  

The crop came down again.  The pain shot through my crotch into my stomach.  I desperately wanted to curl up and protect myself. I put my hands over my pussy.  I couldn’t help myself. 

“Move your hands slut.” I whimpered and shook my head but obeyed nonetheless. “Good, you’re learning.” Oh that was insult on top of injury.  I had let him down.  That hurt so much more than the pain. 

“Now you’re going to count for me.” Oh god no, not the counting.  That means these were just the warm up strikes.

I held open my pussy and he let loose the crop.  The pain blossomed from my pussy outward and I counted, “One, Daddy.” Whimpering all the while with my eyes screwed shut. 

“What are you going to do the next time I give you homework baby girl?” He struck again.

“Obey Daddy, two!” I may have rolled over. I tried not to but damn if I wanted to protect myself. I got back into position.

“Good girl.” I opened back up and he struck again. 

“Three Daddy.” I said.  I whimpered and cried shamelessly. He hit again.

“Four Daddy!” Fuck it hurt.  My poor pussy was raw and on fire.  He hit me one final time. 

“Five Daddy.” I cried out and before I let out my breath from the final hit he thrust his cock fully to the hilt inside me.  I screamed as I felt him rip me in two. Daddy’s cock is very, very thick and it had been a solid month since any penetration. It burned all the way inside.  

Once he was buried balls deep in me, I felt his weight on me and it dawned on me that the punishment was over and Daddy was fucking me.  My body responded and I moaned.  Finally, we were together again and he was inside me.  

He fucked me with such intensity.  My pussy was so raw and sore but I didn’t care.  I was home and I was forgiven. 

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Time to go back home to my responsibilities. I have had another beautiful and perfect weekend with Daddy and Master.  I call him both now for he has become two.  More than that really.  He is my everything.  My husband-to-be, my muse though he calls me his, my protective Daddy and my stern Master.  

I have not admitted this and granted I’m realizing this as I write it but I need challenge, I need struggle, I can become distracted and bored with less.  My mind is ever active, ever working and ever analyzing.  Daddy and I are more alike in this than I knew. 

He fits me so well.  He told me tonight that I fit him like a glove.  He’s so right. Our bodies fit together but moreso than that, our minds fit together.  He challenges me.  He is relentless in exploring our chemistry.  He finds his way inside my mind, centering my passion, delving to the depths of all that is me.  He worked his way in, he broke the fortress I had become.  With his kind heart, his reprobate swagger, and his force of will all governed by his engineer’s mind he took me and made me his. 

How do I go home tomorrow?  How do I part myself from him when I am so cleaved to him that I feel half a person?  All I want is to shut the world out and live in a dream of service to this man. I want to allow him to debase me, lay me bare, then raise me up from the ashes he created to build me again in the image he sees. 

Life in the Lifestyle

Currently, I have no life in the lifestyle.  I have only myself to blame.  I have been a sulky and bad girl.  

“My Dominant is away, I have no orders, so I have no lifestyle.” The more I think these thoughts the more they’ve rolled around my mind and become acrid.  If I have no lifestyle to speak of it’s my own damned fault. How am I serving?  How am I being a valuable and significant slave in my Master’s life?

It is time I bring what I want to the table.  It is only through my giving and service that I truly offer myself up to him.  It is through pure service that I feel most alive and connected to him.

We were at a party over Christmas with some friends.  They were his roommates when we met.  During that time I made doing dishes one of my services to my Master. Not a big thing or a sexual thing.  I don’t know that anyone really understood why I did it.  But they reaped the benefits.  I simply wanted to serve him, to do everything in my power to honor him. At this party, which was months after he had moved in with me, I saw that there would be a lot of work for the host so I did all the dishes. 

The host was grateful.  Daddy, I hope, was proud of me.  One of the drunken roommates started making fun of me to her friend. “There she goes again, doing dishes. Having fun?” She yelled the last line from the patio while she and her friend had a good drunken laugh.  I have to admit, it stung and I felt hurt. After that I wondered about my service.  If the service you offer isn’t understood is it worth doing?

I know it wasn’t Daddy laughing so I should have completely ignored it and went on with my evening.  But I wonder about it nonetheless. Is this part of why I stopped serving so well? Can’t take the heat, stay out of the kitchen?

Daddy has only governed sexual service.  This is a bigger part of it.  In the everyday times of existence he chooses not to govern and wants an equal partner.  So, my offering anything service-oriented out of the bedroom is all my own doing.  Why do I care then? Why do I bother if my Dominant doesn’t ask it? 

Here’s the crux of it. I want three things out of this and it shouldn’t matter if anyone understands but me.  I want to show my devotion to my Master in as many ways as I can.  I want to feel the yoke of his ownership at all times. I want him to feel wrapped in my care and love and heat.

Two of my reasons are only for him and him alone.  The third reason is selfishly motivated.  I hunger to feel his yoke around my neck.  I ache for it.  The feeling of his imprisonment of me, his power over me, it makes me shiver and sends shockwaves of dirty pleasure through my whole being. Why? It just does! And he feels it too. When his power has me in its grip there is an electricity that fills the space between us.  The hunger, the raw power, the darkness envelopes us.  Fuck, I will subjugate myself in any fucking way he’ll let me for another taste of that. 

So, if those are my pure and deeply ached-for goals then it shouldn’t matter at all if no one understands what the hell I’m doing or if anyone is around to see it. 

So, from today on, I will stop the childish sulking and create my own devotions to him.  This morning I kneel beside my bed to honor my connection to my Master.  And then I will get on with my day fully in devotion to serving him in every way.

Daddy’s Not Here

We were fucking.  More accurately, he was fucking me.  We had played, I had come for him, now he was having his.  His cock stretched me wide with each thrust.  The first thrust stung.  Our first night back together we had slipped and I had torn a little.  I could feel it still. 

I knew the pain would disappear if I got past the stingy beginning.  Once he was in and my pussy swelled, I would only feel the pleasure. Liking pain, at least in the sexual arena, is helpful in some situations. 

He sped up and fucked me hard and fast.  We had been at it a while.  He wasn’t going over the edge. This was going to take something more.

“Slut, you are going to make me come. This is your job, figure it out.”  One strokes, two strokes, I had nothing.  I know me, I am a horrible actress.  If something is not my idea, not truly felt from my tiptoes on up through my sex with real passion or in subspace then it rings horribly false.  I knew he’d see right through me. 

As he was fucking me, I had desperately wanted to rub my clit. I hadn’t. I decided that was a real desire, an authentic action.  Maybe something good would come of it. 

I snaked my hand down between us and rubbed my clit.  It felt so good I rubbed it harder.  “Nice, Slut. Keep going.”  He was watching me now.  I felt his heat focusing, I felt my body quicken. I was getting hotter and needy.  Yesssss

Now I could connect with the dirty little slut inside me. She’s always there waiting.  Usually Daddy brings her out but sometimes I can too.

I rocked my hips as he fucked me. I began to lose my grip on reality and only felt him.  “I love your cock in me Daddy.  I need you fucking me. Please keep fucking me.”

Out of nowhere his hand came up and slapped my tits hard.  I whimpered piteously.  The harsh sting expanded out from my nipples.  “No Daddy, please no!” I cried.

He looked down at me all hardness and sin. “Do NOT tell me NO.  Daddy is not here anymore.”

My protective Daddy was gone, sadistic Master had arrived.  He would not put up with any bullshit or back talk. “Yes D-d-daddy…Sir. Yes Sir.” I stammered.  In my state of arousal I had a hard enough time controlling my words but Sir and Master are so rarely used they feel foreign.

He gripped my neck and fucked me with force and heat and intensity.  When he loosened his grip on my neck I gagged my breath back into my throat.  But some evil thought was bouncing around in my oxygen deprived mind. Tell him no.

His hand slapped my tits again. “What slave?” Fuck, he could see every damned thought in my head.

The pain shook that thought away. “Ahhh, it hurts!” I said. By God it stung. 

“You poor thing. You’re mine. I’ll do what I want until you make me come.  What are you?”

“Your slut.” He fucked me continously.

“What else? Keep your hand moving.”  I kept rubbing my clit.

“Your slave.” 

“Yes, my slave but what else are you?”  He was looking for something but what?

It finally occured to me. “Your wife.” I whispered. 

“That’s right. My wife. That makes you mine…mine forever. And you will take what I give you.  You will take my come.”  At that he shuddered and filled me full of his seed. 

Worship

We watched a movie and had lunch.  The apartment had every amenity except a couch.  I was using Daddy’s big chair.  The legs had broken in the move so it was quite a bit lower to the floor but still comfy.  He was sitting in a camping chair next to me.  A very nice camping chair but still not ideal. The dining room table sans legs was propped on a box and made a serviceable coffee table. I told him I loved that set up so much I wanted to permanently cut the legs shorter.

I took our dishes to the kitchen and when I returned he pointed to the floor in front of him.  I sank gracefully to my knees.  I put my arms around his waist and held him for a moment.  

I looked up to him knowing I was here at his feet at his beckoning. “I’m going to answer a few work emails but first you’re going to suck my cock.” I smiled as he pulled down the front of his pants. 

“Do you want to suck my cock slut?” 

“Yes Daddy, I love sucking your cock.”  I do.  There is something so incredible about him allowing me to touch his most sacred part. I want every time I pleasure him to be as amazing as I can make it.  

Sure, I could be crass and say, all men want you to suck their cock.  What’s so amazing?  But why be like that?  It serves no one.  I love to give him pleasure.  I love to have a goal and a challenge.  My challenge is to make every flick of the tongue cause a reaction, every deep throat push deeper, every tongue caress hit the sweet spot.  Otherwise, why bother?  Giving my Dominant pleasure is an honor so I treat it as one.

I was languishing in the feel of him on my tongue.  I was tasting the cleanliness of him.  Aching for a drop of his seed to taste.  This wasn’t a blowjob with a direction.  We were both sated.  This was cock worship.  I could blissfully take my time. 

“Hm, you’re so clean.” I said with a little something in my voice.

“Too clean for my slut?  You want that man musk, do ya?”  He knows me.  I smiled with cock in my mouth and pulled out to answer.

“Well, yeah.  I love me some man musk.  Mm hmm.”  I licked him and chuckled.  I refocused on my task.  I love the girth of him, his cock pushing down my throat, stopping my breath, sucking and working my mouth on him.  

Damn, I was getting turned on. I felt the banter fall away and the heat overtake me.  I looked up to him with a mouthful of cock, eyes glazed with passion. I was struck by the intensity of his steely blue stare.  He was watching me and now he had me captive.  My heart jumped in my chest.  

He pulled me up and kissed me.  The fire between us blazed hot and fierce.  I became nothing more than a cinder in his embrace.  Our kissing drugged me.  I fell into a love-induced trance.  His lips trailed down my chin. He gripped my hair pulling my head back to expose my neck. His lips and teeth blazed a line down my throat. I whimpered and tried to pull away. “Stay.” He said, halting my escape. I trust him but the instinct for survival is undeniably animalistic. The fear rolls over me and I become prey.

His lips at my throat, locked together in mutual torment, he said,”Amazing. You are incredible. Three years later and you still have me rock hard and on fire for you.” His teeth dug into my throat.  
“Daddy…” I entreated. My pussy was throbbing and yet I was about to hyperventilate with fear.  “I want you.”  

“Come with me.” He stood and pulled me to my feet.  I thought we were headed to the bedroom but he led me to the other room.  He opened the door.  It was empty and cold except for the spanking bench  in the middle.

“You are mine. My prize. Present yourself.” He said.  I pulled off my pants and mounted the bench.  I knew what was coming.  All his toys remained packed in the other room.   One hand went to my neck the other my ass.  Gripping the hair at my nape, he spanked my ass twice…then four times in quick succession.  It was hard, it was fast.  The pace matched our pheromone fueled heartbeats.

His fingers pushed into my sex.  God, I wanted him.   The more he spanked me, the more I would do anything to have him.  Damn, I had missed him.   After warming my ass and my pussy he propelled me to the bedroom for a sound fucking.