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.

Collaring

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My collaring was a simple and 
private matter between us. When we returned from the drive to purchase my collar, Mr. D sat in his big chair and had me sit on the bed in front of him. He put my collar in my hands. He said that this time, unlike the first occasion, he did not have a written contract prepared. He said this was new to both of us and that there would be rules and protocols as we went on but for now I must say anything I wanted or needed to say. Once this was done and I had accepted my collar, I would have no choice.

I held the collar and looked from him to the collar and back. He slumped down in his chair a little more. “I put you on the bed above me so that I would not be intimidating.” How can I not love such a man?

I thought about him and about us. I thought about the most recent stress he put himself through of a three hour round trip on a Friday evening to get the collar for me. I thought about why he was doing this…was it solely for me or did he want this too? I thought about everything and nothing at all. He continued to look at me…waiting. 

“I have absolutely no reservations in accepting this. I want this and I want you.” I’m pretty sure my voice shook a little. I felt nervous speaking. I handed him the collar. I lifted my hair and he tightened the collar around my neck. He made sure it was comfortable on me and that I could breath.

“Now, some rules.  You will choose a special word to mean your collar. When we’re with friends or relaxing and you hear this word you will know that you are to leave what you’re doing, go to the bedroom and put on your collar. You are to strip naked and present yourself for my pleasure.”
I nodded my understanding. 

“Dust.” I said. Our little joke of a feather duster and me dusting for him…that would be my word. He smiled.

The next day I still had my collar on. Even though it is almost tall enough to be a posture collar, I slept in it. I hadn’t wanted to take it off so soon. I felt really self conscious when I went out to the kitchen that morning. The roommates know about our lifestyle and two of them used to be in the lifestyle but they aren’t any longer. I felt very submissive because of the collar. They all said nice things but I really have no idea what they thought. Anyway, it is only between us. None of anyone else’s concern. It felt like I was wearing my heart outside of my body, I felt so vulnerable. It was very eye opening for me. I really and truly felt like his property for the first time.

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.

Why Slavery?

Mr. D and I talked after he tested me so absolutely. He said I’m so transparent and that it’s easy to push my buttons. I am sure it is. A woman doesn’t get sucked into a decades-long relationship with an alcoholic without having some level of gullibility. I know I’m an easy target, I always have been. Sometimes I think I’m better than I used to be but I guess not. Maybe there is a part of me that chooses to submit because if I’m going to be manipulated at least it will only be by one person and I had a choice in the matter. There is some power to submitting. You choose it. After that you just have to let go and trust the person to whom you gave the power.
I want to talk about the question, ‘why slavery?’ Isn’t it enough to choose to submit to someone and enjoy that dynamic? Yes, it is plenty. It is an undeniable gift that he allows me to be his submissive. We explore a dynamic that I always wanted but until now hadn’t had the opportunity to explore in real life. All the exploration I did online cemented in me the desire for this in the flesh. Mr. D is that flesh and blood personification of my desire to serve.

There are many reasons I want to take this further. The first is that I feel deeply that Mr. D deserves someone to give him the depths of service slavery offers. I don’t choose this lightly. I have known him for a year and four months. I love how he is as a person. He cares about the people in his life very deeply. He chooses friends that would do anything for him and he is willing to do anything in return. He is an instigator and loves to stir the pot to see what happens. He thrives on giving people what they want and sometimes what they truly need even when they didn’t ask. He is measured and careful in his execution of his skills and his dominance. When he wants to know about something or learn a skill, he is driven until he finds the knowledge he needs or learns the skill he requires. Even with his regimented ways learned in the Navy, he can still be tempted to act swiftly in the pursuit of his desires. I love that he has plans of what to do to me next. I equally love when I see him throw all that out the window because he was taken away in the heat of passion. I want to give him something no one else has. I want to honor the person that he is by offering all of me to him. When we talk about my service, he tells me it makes him uncomfortable sometimes. I can see that. We are used to people being equal, doing their own thing. Like me, Mr. D is a caregiver. To me, that makes it doubly more valuable that I serve him. He knows the level of effort it takes and he doesn’t take it for granted. The Daddy side of him is very strong. I am blessed to have a man care for me the way he does and allow the little girl side of me a safe place.
For my side, I want the level of intensity I think it will bring. I want to be fully dedicated to him and his desires. I love the feeling of having no choice; that I must serve. There is no backing out. There is no option of being timid. There is only him and his desires. There is only what he chooses and how he wishes me to be. I want to give him all of me and then more. If he wants to mind fuck me like he did the other night, I take it. I am his property, I have no choice. I must trust that he has a reason for what he does and if he doesn’t then we will both suffer the consequences. I know that is a lot to give to another person. It is a lot of responsibility to place at someone’s feet. All I can say is that a lot of joy comes with that responsibility. I would be his chattel, his slave. I would do all that he wishes with no out. I would sink to whatever twisted levels he desired, be his slut in every way. He would care for me like he cares for anything else of value in his life. I would be a prized possession. There is no taking each other for granted in this dynamic.

A long time ago a friend introduced me to the online Gorean lifestyle. This is a fictional series of books. The premise is very similar to Conan, the Barbarian. The men are warriors and the women are their slaves. Clearly, the fantasy part was just that. Many people love the harsh quality of the warrior life. It harkens back to a time when men were more masculine and women more feminine. There was no equality. Each sex was compartmentalized to a very narrow set of parameters. Modern life has much more depth and gray areas for both men and women. What I loved about playing Gorean roleplay was the level of femininity I was able to achieve and that the sense of slavery was very real. The entire community treated you as your role. You were expected to conform or reap the punishment which was very harsh. It gave me a very rigid box within which to perform. Because of this singlemindedness, I was freed from all the complexities of life for a while. I was merely female and slave. My aim was to be the most feminine personification of me possible for the pure enjoyment of those I served. It was an escape from the realities of life to be sure but it also allowed me to distill myself into a more pure form of service. I really enjoyed it. I would like to feel that same single-mindedness of service with Mr. D.

Will Mr. D choose to take the slavery I offer? I don’t know. Perhaps his idea of slavery is more than I can handle. I think he may have something very different in mind from my limited notions.  I certainly felt emotionally turned upside down the other night.   I think he has begun to train me. I felt his power over me increase exponentially. Does it scare me? Yes. Will that stop me in my pursuit of serving him? No. I wish to serve him and be his in any way he wishes. I won’t shy away from what is hard. Life has shown me plenty of hard and I’m still here and still asking for more. I’m certain there are lessons to be learned and things I want to experience. For now, I will be his and offer myself wholeheartedly. I love him. I’m his completely. 

Buying Time

“Lie on the bed, face down.” His voice was firm; I knew not to deny him. I was face down on the bed, breathing through the sheet and a swath of hair. I couldn’t see what he took from the table or drawer. I felt his hands on me. I was surprised by the order. He had cut himself in a vulnerable place, right at the base of his sex. I was on my period. It seemed to me we weren’t doing anything that night. But, oh, we were.

We have a very difficult time with ‘no, you can’t play because x,y,z happened so you shouldn’t right now.’ It just makes one or the both of us rebel. He had stroked my neck and that always sends me deep into submission. He grabs my neck, teases me by stroking that very vulnerable area and when he does I’m his. I can’t deny him, can’t even remember to try. Once he started that, I had to touch him. I had to feel his hardness in my hand. It was an imperative. “Please, may I?” I must ask before I’m allowed to suck him or even go down in that area.

“No.” Damn it. I hate hearing no and it makes me gush at the same time. Traitorous submissive psyche. Love, hate. Love, hate. They are so interminably entwined. But then he acquiesced. “Yes. But be careful.” I had him in my mouth quickly. It was divine. The silky, girthy feel of him in my mouth. Yes. I was careful not to go down all the way.  I tipped my mouth and lips so I could get him all the way to the back of my throat but still not touch the cut in the front.

Then he gave me the order.  On my face on the bed as instructed. He slapped my ass and the sting was so good. I couldn’t see where this was going. An exercise in frustration? He put a little vibrator in my hand so I wiggled my hand under my body and pressed the vibe to my clit.  He grabbed me and held me while warming my ass with spankings.  Soon I was purring into the bedsheets.  I love spankings.  He wasn’t ramping up the intensity, he kept it mild and erotic.  Then the falls of the flogger struck me.  He was at my middle and it felt like he was holding the flogger with only a short length of the falls moving.  Sometimes I see an image of what he’s doing in my mind even though I’m face down.  Actually, I do that a lot.  I’m not sure why.  I think because flogging is a learned skill and his skill at it intrigues me.  He seemed to be holding the falls so that he had the proper hits even though he was in close proximity.  

Intermittently he grabbed my hair and pulled hard.  When he was on top of me to do this, his body pressed down on mine and the vibe would lance in giving me a jolt. Immediately after the flogger I felt an entirely new sensation.  It was biting and had the quality of tapping.  It bit me all over my back and buttocks.  I squirmed but not too much.  The sensation was quite bearable.  I love sensation play and loved wondering what he was doing. 

His body covered mine and I felt his luxurious weight on mine.  It makes me feel so raw, so taken.  His groin ground into my ass dry humping me while the rhythm of it moved the vibe in provocative ways. “Keep doing that Daddy.” I wanted more. He pulled back to tease my asshole and probe me there.  The more he plays with my ass the more I want it.  Odd that each time he starts in, after we haven’t done it in a while, I am hesitant and it feels unnatural.  But the intense sensation builds and quickly turns into a pleasure I can’t resist.  It’s an odd combination of “Oh no, please don’t but oh please do that again!”  Strange.
After he stopped, he told me it was the cane that he was using.  He tapped lightly and I hadn’t even known it was the cane.  The stingy scary part of the cane wasn’t even present.

While we were talking he was holding the cane.  As he stroked my neck I realized his eyes had sharpened on me and his Dominance had taken hold. The darkness was on him. “Don’t move slut.” The cane rose up and came down on my nipple.  Oh heavenly god, that hurt.  But he wasn’t even trying yet.  “Hold them up.” I whimpered but still gathered my breasts together to present them to him. I know I had some wounded look on my face and he hadn’t done anything yet.  I was scared. He pulled back and caned my nipple harder this time.  I whimpered again as the sting burned through my chest.  The look on his face took my breath away.  He was eager for my fear, I could see him reveling in it.  Finally, before I had a chance to cringe he pulled back and caned the other nipple.  The fire and the burn cut through me so hard, I dropped my breasts and rolled over to find a fetal position.  I cried out in pain.  It burned through my ultra-sensitive nipple and took my breath away.

“You, my little slut, are going to get on your knees at my desk and I’m going to fill your face with my cum” grab a pillow.  I followed orders and knelt between his legs at the desk.  He pulled up some porn while I sucked him and filled my mouth with his cock. The closer he got the more I sucked.  Close to the end, he took over stroking and had my lips awaiting his load.

As he stroked I asked him, “Do you want to cum on my face or in my mouth Daddy?” He smiled and I could see him thinking.  

“Where do you want it slut?” 

“I want to swallow it Daddy.”

He stroked a few more times and just as I lifted up on my knees and brought my face closer he pushed into my mouth and filled me with his seed.  He jerked and shuddered and I sucked down every drop. 

Belonging

Little Submissive Bird puts the need and the feeling of belonging and oneness so well.

I love that feeling too.

Amor

littlesubmissivebird

The weekend is so close I can almost taste it.

I can almost feel his hands on me, his strike on my ass, his breath in my ear.  The anticipation is making me crazy.  The need to submit again is forceful.  This isn’t a game to me, this isn’t something I play at.  This is me.  I need this.  I understand these desires better than I did years ago when I first began to explore, but even if I didn’t it wouldn’t diminish the need.  It is when I submit that I feel I truly belong. Even if just for a few hours.  I belong.  I am understood.  That is one of the true beauties of D/s for me.  That total understanding and respect and admiration of each others desires.  There is no “wait you want to do what to me?”  “I’m sorry but you like that?”  “why would…

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