Power Dynamic

Such is the rhythm of my life at the moment that I start to write and don’t get back to finish for weeks.  We have had a couple intense sessions recently but I can’t write them with enough details to do them justice. It begs the question, if kinky sex happens and no one writes a blog about it, did it happen at all?

I’m doing my best to write. Random stuff, unnecessary stuff, non-sexual, non-kinky stuff, because if I don’t I fear I’ll stop writing altogether. The most lifestyle related thing I’ve been doing lately is reading a book on the Master/slave dynamic called, Living M/s. What a great book. It is written in sections by a Master and a slave currently living a 24/7 power exchange relationship. So many things they talk about resonate with me.

I was trying to explain the book and my thoughts on it to Daddy. I’m not sure I did such a great job. One thing the slave talks about is how the power exchange in her vanilla relationships was always a problem. That there was always a faltering kind of competitiveness and resentments that would crop up over inconsequential things. This is absolutely what I had in my marriage. I couldn’t put a name to it for years, but there was always a constant tit-for-tat undercurrent in my first marriage. I’d make dinner and expect that he’d do the dishes. He wouldn’t. Then I’d get resentful. He’d ask me to do something for him and I’d feel put out and so I’d do it begrudgingly. He didn’t deserve my serving him because I was pissed about something else minor. 

After decades of this, I was inadvertently introduced to the D/s lifestyle. Everything I read about power exchange relationships made such incredible sense! Why guess and compete and struggle for who is in charge in a relationship? It’s so damned hard and so useless. I could immediately see the wisdom in choosing roles. When my mindset is to be his submissive, to serve and to put him before me in my considerations, life is good. I am at peace. I am filled with contentment.

Daddy wrote up a contract for me to agree to before we began on our journey together. I’ll have to share it at some point. One of his desires was to have me submit in private but for us to be equals in public. Honestly, I think about this a lot. I continue to want to push deeper and deeper into this lifestyle. Even right now, while we’re mainly living a vanilla life, stressed and struggling our way through major life changes, I feel myself on this ever present quest to get back to what is deeper, to submit more, to have my whole being committed to him in this power play. But is that what he wants? Would I want to give up power completely or more than I can imagine now?  

I know a few things so far.  When I am conscious of the power dynamic, I am alive.  I feel connected to him. I feel the raw, sexual energy flowing between us. When I don’t feel it, I falter.

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Elust #83

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Poetry

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Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

My Bed
Secular Submission
My therapy
from “hard limit” to “want”
We Measure the Nostalgia
The Cure and The Cause

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Smut in the 6ix – Porn Conference & Gala

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audience
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As salty as his cum…
Dominating the Doctor

Erotic Non-Fiction

Teen Sex in Woolly Tights with 60s Beat Music
Dear Sadist: Your Cruelty Is Your Love
A male dom, the straight girl and the bi girl
Owned, Leashed, & Beaten
Jan 2015 Owned & Collared by Mistress Claire
Rinse The Days Filth Away
Power On
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Formative Kink Epic Fail: “Buck Rogers”

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If it was easy anyone could do it
What’s a service submissive?
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Writing About Writing

What if aspirational meant something else?

 

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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.

Marathon Sex – Part I

Thursday was a hectic day.  My schedule was frantic until I had to drive up to Mr. D’s.  I do my best to dress for Mr. D when I’m arriving to see him.  I showered, shaved and chose lingerie he’d appreciate.  This night it was a soft grey padded bra and a pair of black lace thong panties.  I wore a very tight black dress.  It is called an envelope dress.  Both sides fold over the middle so that it has a V neck on top showing my cleavage and a V slit at the hem showing off my legs and thighs.  I haven’t worn the dress because it’s too tight but I knew Daddy would love it.  When I’m dressing for him and have no need to wear a dress for long, the choices are different.   The dress rose higher and higher on my thighs as I walked from the car to his place.  When I entered his room, he was freshly showered and had little on.  I greeted him and came over for him to see how I was dressed for him.  He loved it.

“Turn around.  Slowly.” I turned while his eyes raped me and his hands caressed the fabric and my curves in concert.  He nodded. “I like. You’ve never worn this dress for me before.”  I agreed.  “You look amazing in it.” I smiled. “Turn and bend over the chair.” I put my hands on the armrests of his big chair.  His hands stroked my ass and pushed the dress up over my hips.  “Mmm, nice.” His hands touched the lace of the black thong panties. He pulled them down and I stepped out of them.  He was sitting directly behind me on the bed while his fingers pushed deep inside my pussy.  I moaned.  It had been a long week without him.

“I want you to bend all the way over the chair.  Hands on the armrests.” I did as asked and felt him position me over his hard cock.  “Now, come down on top of me.” I realized he was trying a new position.  With him sitting on the bed and my arms on the chair, all I had to do was push back and down spearing myself on his cock.  I realized right away that this position was perfect for us.  I moved up and down riding his cock and getting used to the position.  I loved it.  I gripped the chair as I lowered myself and I pushed back up with my legs.  He thrust deeper inside of me than I expected possible in that position.  It was so hot.  An added benefit was that no weight was on my weak wrist.  He thinks through things, figures them out.  He’s a very creative Dom.

After fucking in that position he turned me around, grabbing my neck and trapping me with his dominion.  He kissed me slowly, softly, and then fiercely.  You can’t imagine, until you are in that position, what a rush it is to have someone dominate you like that.  He sets my blood to boiling.  He doesn’t cut off my air but still my breathing becomes labored.  My adrenaline rushes instantly and I feel trapped, alive, jittery, wet, and completely in his control.  At the base level, it is a showing of his physical power over me.  He could crush me.  The power is so palpable.  It is so addicting.  I want it so much.  I fantasize about him, I ache for him, I need a deeper, more intense word than ache or crave…the need for it is that strong.  I can’t go without it now. When we go too long without this type of visceral connection, my existence fades to a more dull grey palette.  He grips me, he uses his will over me and all the colors pop, all my nerve endings sizzle.  It is truly the most incredible drug.

With his hand on my neck he said, “You will strip off this dress and kneel for me properly.” He released me and I struggled to catch my breath.  As he sat in his chair, I stood before him and lifted the dress over my head.  He caressed the bra while I set the dress aside.  I removed the bra and moved to where I could kneel.  Naked, I knelt with my hands behind my back and eyes down.  But I heard no movement and looked over to him in the chair.  “You are beautiful.” He said.

“Thank you Daddy.” I whispered.  He fills me so much with emotion, words are too fragile to escape me sometimes.

“Eyes down.” I lowered my eyes and he rose to stand before me.  He put his finger under my chin and lifted my face to look up into his eyes.  I felt so vulnerable before him, as if he saw right into the most secret part of me.  My naked submission was laid bare before him. “I’m going to face fuck you slut and you’re going to take it all.”  I nodded.  He held his hand on the back of my neck and pushed me down to his cock.  I opened my mouth wide and he pushed inside.  He was so engorged.  His girth filled my mouth.  I tasted our juices on him. I got his whole length wet and then he began to fuck me.  My mouth held wide, my teeth grinding into my tongue as his cock pummeled the back of my throat.  He uttered guttural sounds as he pulled out to give me a quick breath then he was back to pounding my throat again.  I was buried under him, assaulted by his cock, held by his hands on the back of my head.  I slobbered on him, felt the wet mess at the base of his cock slap my cheeks and lips each time he thrust into me.  I moaned, my tongue hurt but I opened wider each time to take him in, to take the face fucking like a good girl. The submission of it washed over me, the giving and surrender of it filled me.  His cock tortured my mouth but the sacrifice of it incited my passion for him exponentially.  Just as suddenly as it started, it ended.  “Get up slut. Lean over the bed.”

He pushed my face down onto the comforter.  “Reach your hands around and hold your ass cheeks.” My face smashed into the bed, I reached my arms back and held my ass open for him.  His tongue and face assaulted my puckering little hole.  It was warm, wet, and provocative.  He made me squirm and writhe for him.  He stood up against me and rubbed his cock on my wet asshole.  He teased me, taunting me with the thought of him pushing into my ass without me being ready.  I never know where his mind goes. “I should fuck your ass right now.”  I gasped.  He rubbed again me more, pushing harder against my ass. “Your ass is safe, slut….for the moment.” He pushed lower and entered my pussy.  That’s what I wanted.  That’s what I needed. He fucked me good and hard, grabbing my hair roughly at the back of my neck.  His actions drive me more and more into a rushing hunger.  The more he pushes, the more I take, the more I hunger for him.

After a really intense, hard, fast bout of thrusting Daddy pulled out and leaned back.  I felt the ‘all stop’ and sat up to see what happened.  His breathing was labored.  He had the slightest hint of panic on his face. He wasn’t getting enough air.  He sat down and started rummaging for his inhaler.  He took a couple puffs and he began to breath easier. “Well, that’s a mood killer.” He said.  I was only concerned for him at that point. He gets physical activity induced asthma sometimes.  He’s been working hard at the gym and is putting on loads of muscle right now but it takes longer for your lungs to catch up.  We took a break for a few moments.  We both let our breathing return to normal.  “I’m not done with you yet.” He said.  I smiled, I knew he wasn’t.  Nothing stops this man from debauching me in abundant ways.

Ritual and Protocol

Sarah Ellis, Sept 5 2008

Mr. D and I are continuing to progress in our power exchange. I know Mr. D is going easy on me because of my current day-to-day life struggles and doesn’t want to push me over much.  I still ache to strain against the boundaries and push the envelope but there just has not been the devoted time we need together for those things to happen.  Heavy sigh.  Mr. D pointed out to me the other day that I am not patient.  Ask me to help you, I am the epitome of patience.  Make mistakes around me, you’ll find I’m very tolerant and I do my best to be understanding and gracious.  I am highly flawed, I try not to judge others if I can help it.  But with things I want, in relation to myself…progress, building my character, wanting Mr. D buried inside me…stuff like that, I’m horribly impatient. So, in regards to waiting patiently for Mr. D to ramp up our play…sooooo impatient…having difficulty….want to be a pushy, little, topping-from-the-bottom submissive. Ugh. But, I’ll be good.  I can do it.  I can give up my control…I think.

The other night I was reading a blog post about rituals and protocols.  Forgive me dear, blogging friend, but I can’t remember who you are.  Knock me on the head with a reminder, will you, and I’ll post a link back.  His post got me thinking about rituals and protocols.  To me, with my limited knowledge, they seem to be just the thing to help deepen the connection and the power exchange between a D/s couple.  I have only dealt with protocols and rituals in an online D/s relationship before now.  The Dominant I served made me sit at my desk, back straight, away from the back of the chair, legs together, and ankles touching for long minutes at a time.  It served to calm me.  It served to allow me to feel the presence of Another in control of me.  It was something I desperately needed at the time while my marriage fell apart, my house went into foreclosure and my life turned upside down.  Some days it was the only sanity I found.  It showed me that not every man was domineering, angry and mean.  It showed me what I truly wanted, a Dominant man who knew what I needed and took what I gave without destroying me in the process.  It was a very tempering lesson at the time.

After reading about rituals and protocols, I asked Mr. D if there was something in that respect I might do for him to deepen our connection.  We talked about it in text.  Just talking about it got us both so incredibly turned on.  At the end of the conversation, Mr. D gave me a ritual I must perform each time I arrive at his home.  I am to arrive, say hello to everyone there, be cordial then politely excuse myself to the bedroom where I am to kneel with my hands behind my back and await his pleasure and greeting.

I have had a day or two to think about performing this ritual.  I am very pleased to have a way to honor his Dominance over me and to show in a physical way that respect. As I’ve lain in bed each night I’ve thought about how I would kneel, how it would feel.  Would my knees get tired?  Can I get down and back up with grace?  I have rheumatoid arthritis which has affected my wrists.  Thankfully, it is well managed with meds but the old damage makes my wrists inflexible.  I thought, I’ll have to practice this beforehand.  Overthink, much?

The only time he’s requested me at his feet before was when he presented me with our D/s contract and asked if I would agree to follow it.  It was a beautiful moment.  Afterwards, I did not rise very gracefully and actually broke my shoe.  As a result I ended up wearing flip flops to a nightclub that night.  I don’t want a reenactment of that clumsiness to be my offering.

I’m very excited to begin this new part of our journey.

Image used through CC 3.0 with Attribution.  Photography by Marcus J. Ranum – http://www.ranum.comThe Gor Project – 1 by ~mjranum-stock