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. 

Desecration

I knelt for him last night.  Naked in my room after the house was quiet and the world had slowed.  My thoughts filled with his presence, my breathing shallow as the pain settled into my knees.

The pain has become familiar once more.  This is my joy, my honor to bear. I sat with my ass on my heels, my arms stretched upon the bed.  I prayed as a little girl, hoping as he slept that he felt my heat and my aching desire for him over the miles and through the darkness of dreams. 

Exposed and in need, I dared not touch myself.  I have been feeling guilty touching myself of late.  It has become a perfunctory physical maintenance.  Five or ten minutes before I fall asleep or as I rise to greet the day. Is has not connected me to him.  It has not honored him or served his need.  

Today, we talked in text of our need for each other.  Master has given me a command. Tonight I am to insert a frozen wand into my pussy and then use a vibrator to come for him.  I will endure the cold pain and come for him tonight.  

I feel embraced by him now.  I feel the grip of his hand on my neck.  I will serve his dark desire as he wishes for I am his slave and no more. 

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.

Intermission

Sorry folks, I have so much to write about but stress is not a great mistress when it comes to writing.  All I want to do right now is crawl into a deep hole with a tub of ice cream. 

Daddy is away in Texas and I can’t sleep.  I’m up all evening eating random weird things.  Last night it was a whole package of beets then later it was gluten-free toaster waffles.  It sucks to only have healthy food in the house when you want to binge on crap. 

Daddy and I are going to be living apart for a while. I have no idea how long.  We started looking at houses, lovely houses that dreams are made of.  Now Daddy has an apartment that is only his and I’m stuck here with 4 more years to parent my child, the other love of my life. 

I’m doing my damnedest to be upbeat, to work the problem like I usually would.  Find a way.  But I’m stuck.  Every direction I turn something awful will happen.  

I’ve been so emotional since Saturday.  We played, it was intense and absolutely needed, I’ll tell you about it.  After we played Daddy left for Texas the next day.  I’ve been distraught and trying to keep it together, trying to be my normal positive self.  Not easy. 

At first I thought it was a bad sub drop.  It would have been the first time that happened for me.  But I don’t think that was it.  It is just the reality of our situation settling in.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.  

Pain Slut vs. Baby Girl

A few weeks ago Mr. D and I were having fun with his roommates. We were drinking.  We were sitting and talking and generally having a good time.  After a bit someone said, “Let’s do shots!” Oh boy, on a Sunday night this was not going to end well.  Out came the shot glasses.  Before I knew it I was drunk and ordering pizza because somewhere in my rum soaked psyche I knew we all needed something to offset the alcohol.

Being drunk for most people magnifies their normal preset behaviors and personality.  What that meant for me was I became even more enamored of Mr. D.  I was so horny for him and I made it increasingly known.  Every time I got up to refill drinks or go to the bathroom I leaned into him for kisses and to whisper my need of him in his ear.  

The tipping point, I think, was when I told him blatantly that I wanted him in my ass.  It had been a while.  We had tried recently but it hadn’t gone well so we stopped.  I was sure, in my inebriated state, that giving him my ass was the right choice.  Caution be damned!  I wanted him so bad and I wanted to give him what he craved.  I was so sure and completely committed to this that I saw no other outcome aside from the one I wanted. 

After pizza Daddy pulled me into the bedroom.  He bent me over the bed and told me he accepted my offer.  He spanked me barehanded and warmed my ass quite thoroughly.  Then his finger slid into my ass.  He worked that finger in and out once or twice then bent me over the corner of the bed.  The pain slut in me was in ecstasy.  Yes! My ass was hot from the spanking and he was going to take me the way he wanted, no questions, no checking in, just take what was his. 

Then he pushed inside me all at once.  One long swift stroke and his cock was buried balls deep in my ass.  The little girl in me reared her scared little head and cried out.  “No Daddy no!!”  I had no inhibitions left due to the alcohol, great, but I had no control either.  My duality of pain slut and baby girl were all jumbled together.  I couldn’t stop the vulnerable baby girl from whimpering even as I realized that my ass was fine.  It was really fast but I had accommodated him.  I needed to breathe and adjust to it but by the time I had that thought Daddy was pulling out. 

He laid on the bed next to me quietly.  I knew I had done wrong but couldn’t fix it.  “What’s wrong Daddy?  Are you okay?” I was nervous, I felt so bad.  I hadn’t wanted to upset him like that at all.  I realized right away that I’d fully engaged Protective Daddy and didn’t know how to fix it. 

“We’re fine baby girl, you didn’t do anything wrong.  I’m just in my head right now.”  I could see that. Engineer Daddy was dissecting the problem and figuring out what happened.  We laid there in silence.  I did my best to be quiet but what I desperately wanted was to shake him until he came back to me. “I should have stayed inside you and you probably would have been fine.”  He said. I nodded. We had come to the same conclusion but in our inebriated state it had taken us both too long to process the information.  

One thing I learned from this experience is that alcohol does not help play at all.  We know kink play when equipment is involved  must always be sober play for safety. But we were not using any tools, just ourselves. You’d think alcohol could loosen you up but with our level of play, even at its most basic, it was a liability.  

Another thing that keeps me thinking and rolling this evening around in my mind is how the lifestyle parts of my psyche work with his.  Mr. D has brought out a baby girl and a pain slut in me. Both are fairly new to my experience.  Of course they are not separate personalities but simply descriptors for the kinky aspects  of my personality. Strangely, they seem to be at odds sometimes. To be a pain slut, I need to quiet the scared little girl to some extent or else I set off Mr. D’s protectiveness and that takes over from his sadistic side.  

What a many faceted world it is we are traveling through.  I am thankful I am exploring it with him.  

Tea and Crumpets…or Pain and Suffering

Over the weekend Mr. D and I had several sessions of play. Each was different from the others. At different times, Mr. D used his bare hand, the cane, a riding crop and his heavy flogger on me. The cane he used in a rhythmic way. Tap, tap, tap then snap! Tap, tap, tap then snap! The tapping lulls me and primes my skin for what’s to come. It pulls some blood to the surface for the heavier strikes afterward. The bare handed spankings, oh how I love them. He had my ass cheeks nice and rosy. He gave me his hand to feel, it was warm to the touch. With bare hands, both the giver and the receiver feel the sting. I like the equality of that.

The last thing he used on me was the flogger. He whipped me with the falls of the flogger on my ass cheeks, my thighs and on my back. He swings the flogger up and over to hit the top of the ass and then reverses his swing to come up from below. The second swing brings the falls in contact with my thighs and the very tender crease between thigh and ass cheek. It is very sensitive there. He had me jumping.

At the end of the weekend as Mr. D and I were settling down for sleep, I told him that I was a bit off this weekend with my pain management. That sounds an odd way to say it but I think that’s about right, now that I’ve had some time to think. I didn’t do a very good job managing the pain. A couple different times during play, it felt really stingy and biting. I couldn’t properly get my head into the right space. I didn’t expect to go into subspace because we weren’t playing long enough at any time for that. But I usually settle down into a place where the pain is a catalyst for passion. This is the part of being a Pain Slut that I love.

Pain has an effect on me no matter what; whether I like it and want it, whether I’m willing or not. Mr. D does several things to me in the heat of passion that will make me cringe and cry. But they also make me gush. I’m learning that being a Pain Slut doesn’t mean you love and want the pain all the time. Many times, it hurts and I run from the pain. Still, he can see that it is working. This is why I’m not in charge. I’d probably run from the pain way more than I should, ha!

Once, during our play, I tried to use willpower to push myself into subspace. I wanted to slip into that place where the pain stops being stingy and I start loving it. Please, please, let me slip away! I tried to push my mind into that floating place, but it was not to be. It can’t be forced.

Edge play is an odd thing. I don’t have enough experience to understand. Daddy has a lot more than me and sees a lot more of where I’m at and how I am throughout a scene. On Sunday, I told Daddy, the pain felt stingier and just hurt this weekend. I suppose I could be female and say it was because I’m on my period but that’s a cop out. Whether with emotions or in physical play, I need to learn better how to let go. I want so much to explore the edge. 

I want him to push me physically and emotionally. I want to be thrown into subspace by his fierceness and his delivery of pain. But if I whine and whimper and can’t take it, I’m not giving him much of a reason to go there. He is a protective Daddy after all.

One day at a time, one step at a time. Oh, impatience, I am your fool.

Fire

He lights a candle and holds it close.  The light is soft and lures me.  I bask in the glow.  Once he feels me respond to his subtle little flame, he adds more fuel.  

The brightness shines a light over my soul.  He looks ever so closely and sees all of me.  He sees what I want to show, he sees what I hide.  He finds my fears and notices the barriers of my walls. 

A flame thus ignites within me. I respond in kind to his beacon.  I quake in fear that he sees me, that he knows my every secret.  But his light continues to shine bright as day even though my sins are now exposed. 

I see now that he will not turn away.  He wants my sin, he wants my hidden terrors.  He wants my dirty, rotten imperfections.  I roll like a swine in mud.  He grants me freedom to be the basest of pitiful things.

His high beam of stark honesty and vision ignites.  He takes the clay before him and carves out the pure beast within.  His talons grip me, his voracious fire consumes me.  I burn, oh how I burn in his realm.

From the fire emerges a passion that seeks its match and finds it in him.  Red and tumultuous, hot and painful it engulfs us.  The flames lick and eat and take their fill.  The eager coals smolder and deprive me of all my air.

I pant and rut.  His fire turns me on a spit.  Every basted bit is lashed by his words and his tongue.  No reason allows me succor. My thoughts, my being,  the primordial spark of me bends to him.

He fears losing control.  I can’t help him with that.  All my heart and morbid desires want him to lose himself and break me.  Each speck of glorious light I sense in him is answered with a raging wildfire.  

Heaven help me, he called me an angel.  But all I want is to grovel at his feet, to debase myself completely.  The fiber of my mind crackles in the viscous lava of my subservience to him.

Please, I beg of you, destroy all meaning.  Tear my walls and protections from me.  His voice stirs wicked desires.  His dirty words bind me to him for all eternity.  I fall deeper into the abyss gladly.