Masturbation Fantasy

I was masturbating recently and I came up with a fantasy that twisted me so hard. I have to share it with you.

I’ve been fantasizing when I masturbate a lot more lately. In my efforts to become more orgasmic with Daddy, I decided that masturbation with porn is not helpful. It’s kind of an automatic reaction. I watch a hot porn scene, cum and get on with my day. It’s about as exciting as brushing my teeth every morning. This is not leading me towards my goal so I’m trying not to do it as much.

I was in bed and I began to touch myself. I caressed my sides and my belly. I graze my fingertips so lightly on my skin that it raises goosebumps. Then I can feel my nipples harden. When I do it this way, without touching them directly, they get so hard so fast that the skin puckers and crinkles. It sends little shockwaves of nipple sensation through my body. God, I love that sensation.

I pictured a scene in my mind. This is what I saw as I touched myself…

I came home expecting to see Daddy and get a kiss hello but I couldn’t find him. I went into the bedroom and was shocked to find him fucking a hot girl. She was curvy and had great tits. He had her pinned under him, his cock full to the hilt inside her.

It was so hot seeing this but then I was immediately torn with jealousy and pain. He didn’t tell me he was fucking this girl. He’s supposed to tell me about them before he does. My face fell and I just stood there watching and twisting inside.

He turned because he felt my presence. “Strip and kneel slut. This is for you.” Then he went back to fucking her. I stripped my clothes off and knelt near the bed still watching them fuck. My pussy was dripping yet my stomach was still twisting with jealousy. This was for me? He had given me a clue. He was doing this as a scene for us.

Now the girl notices me naked and kneeling on the floor. “That’s hot. Does she do anything you tell her?” At this point Daddy rolled off her and made her get on top of him.

“Of course she does. She’s my dirty little slave. Now, ride me.” She got on top of him and began fucking him. Her tits bounced as she did. Then she started talking to me.

“I’d like a slave slut like you. I’d make you do all sorts of things. Fuck yeah, I would.” Then she moaned and rode Daddy harder. “God I love his cock. It’s a big fat cock, you’re so lucky to get fucked with it all the time.” I twisted some more as she rode him. I was so close to cumming now.

He moaned and I switched to watching him. I love watching Daddy cum. He cried out and shot his load into her. Her tits were bouncing as he filled her. When he was done he looked over to me. “I came for you Darling. You know what you have to do.” I knew but, wow, I had never had his cum that way.

“Get up here and lick it out of her. It’s Daddy’s cum.” I got up in between her legs.

The hottie looked at him then at me. “Fuck yeah, do it!” (I didn’t give her much in the way of a vocab, did I?) I licked her clean then made her squirm and cum herself.

In reality, I had cum when Daddy shot his load but damn I had to finish that scene in my mind while my body was twitching from a really good orgasm.

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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.

Lifestyle Characters

As we move around in this lifestyle Mr. D and I have taken on many personae. Purists would shun our behavior, I have no doubt.  

In exploring our interests and one another we’ve each tried on a few different characters. They all fall on our own distinct side of the slash but they each relate to the others differently. Mr. D is and always will be dominant. There is no changing that immutable fact. No matter what persona he dons it is decidedly in the lead.  

I am always and primarily submissive. There is no changing that part of who I am. It is a permanent part of me.  

As we began to explore, Mr. D loved the Daddy/baby girl dynamic. I had never experienced it before. I understood it and was willing to try. I knew a baby girl was submissive so felt I could take this on. Fast forward a few years and I truly enjoy being a baby girl. 

The Daddy role suits Mr. D perfectly. He is always watchful and taking care of me. Even when he’s the one to hurt me he’s the first to make sure I’m okay. Even when we have plain vanilla sex he makes sure I’m ok afterwards.  I love being his baby girl.  I love how he considers me in all he does, how he plans ahead, and how me protects me. It took putting me into a vulnerable baby girl mindset to open me as deeply as he has. I trust him more than I’ve trusted anyone with my heart and my body. 

As we have grown in our dynamic Mr. D has asked me about the desires in my submissive heart. I’ve told him of my secret dream of being slave or kajira. I crave the intensity and the full immersion of that role. Something about me wants the ultimate test. I want to be his prized possession, his greatest asset. I want to be owned by him. I ache to serve and relinquish all of myself to him. It is not easy. In fact it can be very hard and for some reason I crave that. The more stern he is and the more demanding, the faster I slip into subspace. Why? We’ve explored that too. No matter the why, the reason it works is because it is a release and a challenge for me. In those moments of deep service all else disappears, all that remains is his desire. That pinpoint of darkness, that razor’s edge of focus is my happy place. In those moments I feel like we merge into one whole.

Before I left home on Friday to come see him, Mr. D texted me that Stern Master would be taking control this visit. He told me to be ready. He said he had been too lenient for far too long. “Be ready,” his text said. I knew what that meant. Daddy would be put away and a more rigid and controlling personality would take his place. Stern Master doesn’t let me get away with anything. He wants and he takes. He does not protect as Daddy does, he expects service and expects it with no excuses. 

Is this Mr. D’s natural personality? Yes and no. It is not the primary one. His primary is Daddy. In his most relaxed and most comfortable, he is Daddy. When his darkness takes over, he is Master. Does this mean Master is any less him? No. Less comfortable perhaps but no less him. 

My baby girl, submissive, slave, slut and whore all serve him. No matter the name, no matter the inflection of voice, when he calls, I answer. When he commands, I obey. 

Homework

So, Daddy gave me a task.  Not the task I never wrote about.  Sorry folks…moving on.  He set me another similar task.  This time, it happened to be on my birthday.

Let me set the scene.  It was a hectic day.  I had family coming to take me to dinner for my birthday.  There was also a work party for me during the day.  All this was wonderful but for some reason I felt harried and stressed.  Probably because the days leading up to my special day were overlong and I was overworked.  My house was trashed and I had no time to clean it for the company that was arriving right after work.  Add the plethora of birthday calls and texts and I was ripe for overload. I know, first world problems. Poor loved thing, how dare they call and write and love me extra well! Sheesh. 

I knew I was on the edge for no apparent reason and blowing my lid at well wishers was bad form so I held it in.  My family all arrived and everyone was talking at me at once, usual family-fest. Right about then Daddy texted.  

“Baby girl, you have homework tonight. You will put in your new anal plug and masturbate for me. Understood?” I read this text while the whirlwind of voices and people whirled around me.  My initial reaction was not submissive at all, lemme tell ya.  Not anywhere near it.  My first thought was, Really? Today of all days?!?

Ok, not my finest submissive moment.  I answered in the affirmative and went back to be being a good hostess all the while I added this news to the jumble in my head. Evil and Angel marked off territory in my mind. 

Daddy is far away and it’s my birthday.  He wants me to feel him today of all days.  

Why am I to perform tasks for his pleasure on my birthday?

It’s not for him you idiot, he wants you to have some fun and some pleasure. 

I’m exhausted now and we haven’t even gone to dinner yet.  How the hell am I going to get rid of this gaggle early enough for this too?

The fight was arduous and ridiculous.  I’d say one side won because it would lend closure to the tale but really they were still at it when I finally got my child to bed and everyone out of the house. 

I laid in bed and thought, okay just close your eyes for a few minutes then do as you’re told. Regardless why he wanted me to or if I wanted to, I’m slave and I must obey.  At that point…you guessed it…I fell sound asleep.

Edging

I took a bath, I wanted to be a clean slut to perform the acts you commanded of me. We are a dichotomy of light and dark, clean and dirty, pure and sinful. This felt right. 

I shaved in preparation.  I wanted to be most pleasing.  Naked and glistening, I knelt at my bedside with lube and a new toy on the bed in front of me.  The plug we use is with you so I found another.  Black as sin, six inches long and made for pleasuring the prostate…it would do. 

I placed it at the tight entrance to my ass, all the tighter for not having been used for a month.  The bulbous head was larger than expected.  I gasped as it stretched me uncomfortably.  I added more lube and finally succeeded.  

The phallus filled my ass.  All the length of it was now buried inside me for you. I knelt at my bed and turned on the vibration.  Yessss, that’s good, I thought.  I wondered if this would push me too far.  I was going to find out.

You told me to think of you, of your cock stretching me, filling me.  I did Daddy and of your hand on my throat, your fingers crowding my mouth as you forced me to look at you, to give you every  possible scrap of my attention. You had it, I am your slave, all of me including my attention is yours. 

I moved to lay on the bed naked, the plug rumbling in my ass.  I touched myself.  I caressed my breasts.  I rolled my nipples and pinched them until they were tight pearls of neediness. I pushed the plug in further until it was to the hilt.  I pulled on it, fucked myself with it for you.  I knew you’d want to Daddy.  

I touched my pussy for you. Smooth, plump and open, the pussy you own responded.  Liquid music flowed from my fingertips to the vibrating plug.  As my fingers danced upon these strings of pleasure, your slut’s body answered the chords you plucked with notes of its own. 

The more your cock invaded my mind the more the notes of my need followed your tune.  The wildness of our fucking was the rhythm to which my body moved.  So hot, so needy, I begged you to pound me with percussive force.  I arched to meet your thrusts and too soon, so soon a crescendo.  

Rippling vibrations flowed over my trembling body.  My fingers stopped, precursing staccato jolts rocked me.  Breathe slave breathe. One refrain played, two more must follow. The tune in my mind shifted.  It was a simple song, one of dark intent.  I felt your heat and your malice flow. I wanted your hidden power…the danger.

You had me on my face, a vice grip in my hair.  My ass raised for you, your words invading my mind.  This stanza would be the devil’s play.  You fill my mind with fear and lay me bare.  Your words dance upon my soul and lift me from the foulest places.  In my depravity, I match yours.  This duet of darkness is all that my soul desires.  Every sinful song I can sing is no match to this, to your power over me.  I am your instrument, a sonnet of sin to be played upon body and soul. 

Again, I reach the edge and a shuddering shaking preamble lays me bare.  I should fear the third and final verse but I don’t.  Far from it.  I am taken away by this piece now, your concerto.  I am your wanton slut, I have taken your drug in full now and like any addict I want more and more and more. 

Eagerly I touch myself, I don’t savor the sounds anymore.  I wallow in the cacophony like a pig in slop.  I have sinned and there is no penance that will bring me back. My fingers slide in the slick smear of juices that have flowed as you played. I want more, I want it all.  I want to bath in your ecstasy, I want it to continue endlessly.  But no!  All too soon, I’m shuddering.  Such a betrayer, my body.  Why so soon?  I wanted this song to play forever.  I stopped touching, I had to or else I’d go over into the abyss. 

Tasks and Torment

I served my Master.  I used a frozen phallus and fucked myself for his pleasure.  I applied a vibrator as commanded.  I touched myself and came hard, so hard. 

His command wrapped itself about me.  His heat pumped my blood. God, how I needed to feel his control.  It felt like the heatwaves of summer in the darkest frigid winter. 

I am alive with electric need.  I am his whore awaiting his every wicked intention.  I will debase myself for the scraps of his attention. 

He leaves me tonight with an ultimatum.  Call to mind his engorged cock.  Feel it filling my mouth, smooth and hard.  Know of it stretching my pussy wide as his fingers invade my ass. Draw a ragged breath as his teeth graze upon my nipples and mar my neck.  

How can I not?  To see the words is to evoke the fire of transfiguration.  The moment they left his thought I was marked by them. 

My pussy twitches and burns with the girth of him. My mouth salivates as my tongue traces the velvet marble of his cock, the molten alabaster of its relentless head forcing my throat past any humiliating reflex.  

I am but his vessel, his marionette. I may not touch, he says.  Of course…I do not control the strings.  My fingers are held in abeyance.  Though my cunt contracts and my nipples cut glass. 

My body is upon the altar to be sacrificed at his whim.  I am nothing but his instrument.  My only fervent wish is to be played. 

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.