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. 

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.

Stream 

This is a stream of consciousness write today.  Usually, I have a definite scenario or subject in mind.  Today, I just need to get words on screen, so to speak. 

In the midst of moving in together I dropped my writing.  Not that I have an excuse.  Every intentional practice can easily fall by the wayside if you aren’t careful.  Really, ask me when I last went to the gym.

But this is important to me and to Mr. D.  So, no matter what is going on in life and how many days it’s been since I wrote, it is constantly on my mind. Like the D/s lifestyle, not always at the forefront of my focus but always there, always a part of me and of us.

I have been in a quandary lately about work.  My work is completely in the non-lifestyle non-friendly realm.  If anyone from my work happened to link this blog together with me I’d be looking for a job.  I love what I do but clearly I can’t be 100% me.  Can any of us really, though? Some can, most can’t.  It weighs on my mind lately though. I guess you do what you do until the cons outweigh the pros.  

The first two weeks of Mr. D and I living together have flown by.  It’s been a peaceful time fitting our lives together into a whole.  With a child in the house a majority of this time, we haven’t had much adult play time at all. 

I was so aware of this last night that I wound myself up into a needy little stress cadet. Everything that could go wrong did.  My child was stressed to go to dad’s.  His dad was late, house was locked, dinner late for Daddy, on and on.  I was so in my head about it all that our sex was affected.  

Learning curves are necessary but not always fun.  I’m still learning to put away my troubles and focus on how best to serve in the moment.  Last night, I was not so great at that.  I rushed my child and was late for Daddy.  I didn’t end up serving either one very well at all.  

So, I pick myself up and try again.  That’s all there is to do.