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. 

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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.  

Power On

We live our lives and it’s good. We’re joining our lives more and more. I went to an event with Mr. D and met more of his friends. We had a relaxing and fun time. We had a little drunk time too. All good fun. All vanilla fun for the most part.

Thursday night, he spent the night at my place. We’re moving in together this weekend and I was feeling stressed about space for everything so I wanted him to come and game plan the move with me. We didn’t really end up doing that but we had a nice dinner and we waited for my brother to stop by to pick up some things. In general, a normal vanilla evening.

I was on my period, it had just started. Talk about the worst timing. Well, we’d had months of it falling during the week when I wasn’t with him, so, all’s fair I guess. He told me, “Well then, I guess your ass is mine tonight.” I felt the usual wave of nervous trepidation that comes over me when I know butt sex is imminent.  

Daddy is large and more importantly has some serious girth to his package. Anal is a hurdle. One that no one else has surmounted for him so I’m proud to serve him that way. Still, it’s a hurdle.

We cuddled on the bed. He gripped my neck and his dominance wrapped itself around me in all its power. Fuck, I love that. It’s like air. Air that I need to survive. I don’t realize it’s missing until it’s there again. Then, I breathe it in. I expand and I feel my wings unfurl. My God, the feel of it on me is like no other presence I’ve ever experienced. I crave him, I meld with him, I belong to him like no other.

“You, my little cumwhore, you are going to get either the large or the medium butt plug and you’re going to put it in your fine ass. Then you will get between my legs and worship my cock. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Daddy.” I croaked out the words around his tightening hand.

“What are you?” His words rumbled over me. His mouth on my cheek.

“Your cumwhore Daddy.” I shuddered and bathed myself in his power.

“That’s right. Now go.” He released my throat and I coughed from the sudden availability of air. My throat was scratchy and stuck together from his grip. I found the medium plug and the lube. I lubed the plug well and brought it back to the bed. I squatted right next to the bed so my eyes were level with his and worked the plug into my tight, unprepared ass. I closed my eyes briefly as I felt the bulb stretch me and pop inside. I looked up at him when it was done.

“Nicely done little girl. Now get to work.” I love feeling his pride. I love doing things in a way that serves his lust. I knelt between his legs. 

“May I Daddy?” I must ask permission first. I had gotten in trouble earlier for not asking permission. Even though I was ordered to the task, I asked.

“Good girl, yes, you may.” I sucked his cock in my mouth. I savored the taste and feel of him. I felt him grow and harden in my lips and my throat. I took him in as far as I could, pushing myself ever deeper each stroke. His words taunted me as I worked.

“You are a good cumwhore. I’m going to take that ass. I’m going to sink myself deep in your tight hole. Do you want that?” I nodded while my mouth was full of cock.
He grabbed my hair and forced his cock all the way down my throat. 

“Take it, take it. Yes! Oh yes, good slut.”

“On your side, knees up, head at the corner of the bed.” All the while I had sucked his cock, the plug had worked inside me. I felt it loosening and moving inside the whole time. It was quite erotic. He grabbed the plug and pulled it out then he was on me. His body pushed up behind me and his hard cock found it’s way to my tight, prepared asshole.

He thrust slowly and was easily inside me. I was surprised how easy it was this time. Usually, I panic and we stop then we continue again until we fit together. There was none of that this time. He slid right in. He stopped and checked on me. I was ready for him. I wanted him to move. He began to move slowly and soon he was fucking me hard and fast. The feel was intense and glorious. I heard myself moan. I gripped the bed sheets and rode the waves of pleasure as he took my ass over and over again.

I know I spoke to him. I’m not sure what I said exactly. I think I begged him to fill my ass. I wanted him to keep fucking me but I ached for his cum to fill me. It is such a dichotomy of need. Keep fucking but fill me, give me your cum! There is nothing like it. When he came inside my ass, oh it was like the 4th of July. Yes, I needed that so much. I needed him, I needed his dominance. I needed it all.

Dynamic

I read the Submissive’s Guide every week.   The author is a 24/7 submissive and also has guest writers on occasion.  Today’s article about aftercare was particularly good. 

Submissive’s Guide Article

 I really appreciated the guest author’s take on the dynamic between the submissive’s boundaries and the Dominant’s. It was valuable to read someone talking about how both positions within the dynamic must push their own boundaries to develop a scene.  This has been on my mind a lot since a scene Daddy and I had went south unexpectedly a couple weeks ago. I’ll write about that shortly.  In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the article as much as I did.
Amor

Society’s Shortcomings

This will be a very short rant mainly because I don’t usually rant.  

I just wanted to say that I love the social graces.  Many things about them are lovely.  Having doors opened for me, being utterly female in dress to please my man and make him feel utterly male, polite voice volume in luxurious restaurants, all these things are the stuff of social grace and make me swoon.  They just bring delight and peace, a sense that all is right in the world

On the flip side, social boundaries can be so limiting.  When I wrote about touch, for example.  There are so many friends and even generally nice people who aren’t friends that could use a hug or a caress.  Why can’t that be okay?  But it’s not. You can’t go up to a terminally grumpy person and say, “You seem really tense, let me give you a blowjob, you’ll feel so much better!”

I know, I can’t have ALL the niceties and NONE of the boundaries at the same time.  I get it.  We really have it good in the current age.  Victorian times were too strict, Roman times too dangerous. 

Still, it’d be nice.  Anyone need a blowjob? Back rub? LOL

Service

  
Service is a very important word for me. I was raised to be a helper for my mother. She ended up divorced and was not well equipped to handle single parenthood.  From a young age, I cared for others. I cared for my brother and my mom. Later, I cared for my husband and later still, my son. Having the concept of caring for others instilled so young, I do it now without at first being cognizant of it.

I used to feel resentful of my mother and having to care for a grown woman. It took me a long time and some growing up to forgive her for relying so heavily on me. I found forgiveness when I grew older and moved away. I learned how to be my own person and was able to see her more clearly. I found a deeper love for her then but that took years.

When my husband would ask more of me than I wanted to give I would feel that resentment again. I would mull over my feelings as I performed whatever duty he asked of me. After a while, I realized that I was the only one suffering from my resentment. I decided that I wasn’t going to say no to the request and so I should learn to like what I was doing and come up with a better reason for doing it than merely keeping the peace. Every time I was asked to do something, I chose to think of how I would feel if someone did that for me. I would feel so grateful. I would be in awe of them for helping me instead of saying no. I chose to be generous of my time. I chose a healthier path. By doing this, I began to see my place in life in a different way.

At work, I also began to change my style of management. I have always worked in business administration. In any business, there is the talent and there is support staff.  I read the book, The Servant, and realized that there was a whole management style built around how I naturally handled things. I began to see that in service I supported my staff. I served them by leading and they served the greater good of the company.

Finally, I found my way into the lifestyle. This is where my character truly found wings. I could serve others truly now. Without the veil of society upon me, I could strip away the façade and be the real me. I knelt at Mr. D’s feet for the first time and it felt so right. It felt like home. I choose to serve and in that service I submit to him and to his desire. I am laid bare as the servant that I am and long to be.

I no longer must hide my service in a veil of acceptable behavior. I can revel in my place at his feet. I can strive to be more than I am and also less. The striving for more is to strive to be all that he wants and desires in a slave. In some respects, I wish to be more than he wants for I know at times he would not demand as much of me as I’d like to give. It is natural for him to be dominant but not as natural to have someone be subservient to him. This is my gift. I wish him to feel so loved, so honored, so fulfilled by my service that he knows at his deepest core how worthy he is of that kind of love. When I say I want to strive to be less, I mean that I wish to put aside my self and my ego to be completely fulfilled within my service. This is not easy. This is the hardest part. Still, I want to explore that too.

Now in the lifestyle I have found a joy in service the wasn’t there before.  I seek for ways to please him and for ways to expand my thoughts on service.  This along with how he chooses to lead me will hopefully combine to bring our dynamic to a whole new level.

Image used with permission through CC3.0 with attribution by Marcus J. Ranum and found here.