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. 

Punishment

The minute I woke up I knew I had failed him.  I felt awful that I had not completed my homework.  On top of knowing I had failed to obey him, I had an extra dirty layer of guilt because I hadn’t wanted to obey in the first place. 

When he texted me, I knew I would have to report my failure. “How was your homework last night?” He asked.

“I fell asleep before I was able to complete it Daddy, I’m so sorry.”

“Well, we’ll talk about that when I see you tomorrow night lover. Have a great day.” He texted.

Ooo, now that was ominous. A few minutes later he asked, “What time was it before everyone left?”

I answered, then he asked, “And when did the boy finally settle down and go to sleep?”  I answered again.

“Ok, thank you darlin.” He was killing me with his calm methodical questions.  His analytical mind needed data so Master could decide if and what punishment would be a reciprocal response. 

I was flying to be with him the next day.  I didn’t have long to wait to see what the verdict was but it was going to be an interminable wait nonetheless.

I wondered about the punishment.  I  knew I deserved to be punished.  I knew Daddy was weighing the options.  I knew he could let me off because I was tired and he knew it.  I knew he could make it play punishment and we could have fun playing the roles.  I also knew he’d want to be lenient because we’re in this weird limbo because we’re living four states apart right now. 

Secretly, I didn’t want any of those options.  I hadn’t planned this but now that punishment was on the table, I wanted to be truly punished. As a submissive walking the line into slavehood, I want more than anything to feel his power.  I want to feel the yoke on my neck and know I’m being led by a strong hand. 

He picked me up from the airport on Friday and I was giddy to see him and touch him.  Finally, I had my Love in reach again.  He fulfills me.  Me makes my heart whole. Along with my joy was expectation.  What would happen?  He knew it and I knew it. 

We got to the apartment and he sent me to the kitchen for drinks.  He followed. “Arms on the counter in front of you.” Oh god, already? I giggled nervously and bent over the counter, ass out.  I was in a lacey blue dress for him. He threw up the skirt exposing my ass.  His hand caressed my cheeks then he ever so lightly tapped on each cheek with the palm of his hand pulling my skirt back down afterwards.

“You may finish getting the drinks.” He went about putting things away giving me a little smirk in the process. He knew I was waiting and wondering.  He was toying with me. 

(To be continued…)

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.)

Dedication

black-woman

I am dedicated to Daddy.  I want with all my heart to be all that he wants and needs in a submissive, a wife, a slave and a woman.  I hope that with everything I do that I honor my dedication to him, that I honor him in thought, word and deed.

This week I failed him.  I promised to write and I failed to do so.  He was away in Berlin and it would have been the best time to write for him.  To give him a taste of his home and his girl while he was so far away.  I failed him in that.  Why do I fail? My focus drifted to other things.  I was hyper-focused on cleaning out my closet.  I’m worried that we’ll not have enough room for all his things and mine when we move in together.  So, I took everything out of the one closet bit by bit and went through it.  I’m not nearly done.  I want to scan old photos so they will no longer take up space.  I want to make some photo albums of special photos.  I took out two years of filing I had avoided for too long.  I bought a filing cabinet and shredded and filed until there was nothing left but one organized cabinet. I did my taxes.

I was distracted from my main desire, to please Daddy. I know I get distracted.  I get tunnel vision on one task and other equally important tasks fall by the wayside. When Daddy asked for me to write, I wanted to write.  I knew I wanted to please him and I promised.  Still I didn’t write.  My muse felt so silent and cold. Daddy arrived home from Berlin and I was so happy I’d be able to see him.  He texted that he’d arrive and I was to wear a skirt and no panties.  He told me that I would feel his passion and his displeasure.  That I would be punished and asked if I knew why.  Oh, yes, I knew.  I knew very well.  He said, even though we would be having family time that he would find time during the evening to make me feel his heat and I would be punished. Even as I felt the guilt from my actions, my heart sang that he cared so much for me and for my writing.  I felt a wave of need for him so white hot.  Maybe I should be afraid of punishment but it feels like home, it feels like caring, it lets me know his desires and that our dynamic is important to him.

Silhouette is in the public domain

Apologies and Punishment

I owe apologies to Mr. D, my Daddy. I haven’t written about our last three trysts and feel him waiting. He is so patient with me and I still let him down. How do I keep doing that? It’s life and focus and oh I don’t know…a thousand excuses.

Slavehood. Will this ever come to fruition if I can’t follow simple orders? “Write for me.” He says. I do. I’m sporadic. I’m taken away from my devotion by life. He understands mostly. Still. How will I ever match up to the desire to be his slave if I am not solely focused on fulfilling his desires?

I think about this today as I sit down to write about our last three times together. Of course, it’s been days and weeks so the details are eluding me. The general memories are there and as I begin to write the details usually percolate. But then, if I had written them when the memories were fresh, I’d have a much more complete story for you and for him. If I’m striving for the raw material of the story I know I spend less time on the craft of telling it. It’s subtle but there’s a difference.

How do I expect him to be able to properly guide us if I don’t give him information? I’m not being overly guilt-ridden here; I’m just posing the questions in my mind. This is really what punishment is for, I feel. If I don’t have consequences…if most of us don’t have consequences, there is not always the necessary drive. I truly desire to be the best service-oriented submissive I can be. So there is inherent drive. I don’t need to be punished to want to please. I just do. But sometimes I lack the proper motivation. 

I often wonder about how I would respond to a full 24/7 power exchange relationship. Sometimes I think I’d love every minute of it. But at times like these, when I have let him down, I think perhaps I’d be a poor choice of a slave. I love the ideal. I love the thought of serving him perpetually. I love the idea of feeling his Dominance more, having more guidance and more stringent parameters. But then I wonder if I will fail at that miserably when I can’t even do this properly.

I have been reading Beast and belle’s blog. They each write about one side of their dynamic. I really enjoy reading them. Recently Beast was talking about how Belle failed when he left her with standing orders but thrived with more immediate orders. Perhaps that is simply what’s happening to me. I need to learn how to make the sense of immediacy more prominent in my mind otherwise I become distracted by parenthood and career while I’m away from Daddy. Then when I return to him, I’m so sad that I’ve let him down. I never want him to feel like I am not there for him, that I’ve put my duties and care of him aside.

Today, I commit again to being a good submissive and doing all that my Daddy wants purely because I love to feel his joy, and desire to fulfill my submission to him fully. As with anything I am committed to long term, I falter. Most importantly, though, when I fail I get back up and commit to being better once more.

Too Long

It is too long between writings.  I feel the time stretch out like a taut rubber band.  I leave Mr. D’s side and go back to my professional single mom life.  I think about what I will write.  Life and child and work fill each day to overflowing. 

The band stretches further.  I long for Him.  I ache to write for Him.  I know the time is racing away.  I feel the vacancy.  It winds around me while I work, while I toil for others.  The absence of Him.  The absence of the me I am with Him.

The band reaches critical stretch.  I must choose.  Child and boss or Master and slave?  Each day I choose the child and the boss because they are my iminent responsibilities.  Though my heart chooses my Master in the longing I feel, the ache that is ever constant while I’m away.

The band splinters and breaks.  I am gone so long from Him.  The writing  is an empty page.  The days of caregiving are all there are in this world.  The fulfillment of Master and slave a distant photograph.

The slave bows her head.  She returns to her Master in shame.  She knows before He says it.  She drifted too far from His sphere.  She drowned in the sea of other cares.

His hand on her neck.  His touch so gentle, so loving and kind.  His words so vulnerable and clear.  “I need your words.  I need to know your thoughts.  I am not angry and you are not in trouble.  But you need to know how important your words are to me.” His breath warm, his touch a silken caress.

Her tears and sadness stained her face.  The pain filled her heart.  For she had disappointed Him. She felt it like a wound.  Deep inside she felt the pain but also joy. He loved her enough to tell her what she did wrong and how deeply He needed her, needed her words.