Fantasy and Reality

Tonight I had a fantasy which made me cum so hard next to Daddy.  We’re planning a trip with friends.  Some of them are kinky.  Daddy asked what toys I wanted him to bring.  I said, “All of them.” 😜 

I’m not sure if we’ll play on the trip or if we’ll play with others.  But it’s fun to fantasize about it.  Daddy said he might make me bring the red shoes.  I haven’t worn them in a long while.  He calls them his earrings.  

I was imagining him ordering me to wear these shoes and serve him while the others were in the room.  Nothing sexual just bring him drinks etc. It fit into the conversation we had tonight about collaring. 

Then I was thinking about how heightened our appetite for each other would be.  I’d be able to feel his heat and sense his desire while we were just hanging out with friends.  As I touched myself, I thought about how this would manifest in him.

I thought about kneeling in front of him.  Not being asked but doing so because I love to kneel before him.  Then I thought about him not being able to hold back and getting that look in his eyes that tells me in no uncertain terms that I’m in for it. 

In my mind I heard him speak.  The tone of his voice was silky smooth but the undercurrent was cold hard steel.  “Baby girl, go kneel before my friend there and take care of him for me.” I froze and looked up at Daddy.  He was intense and completely serious.  I was given no say, I wasn’t asked if I was okay with this.  I was simply told to obey. I knew he meant to share me sexually.  I knew I was his slut and he was demanding I prove it.  I felt the hard edge in his voice, one I’ve heard before.  The one that throws me into subspace every time I hear it and in that moment I came so hard.

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Pain Slut

  

I want to write about pain. I suppose it is on my mind because I’ve been struggling with emotional stuff this week and that’s an entirely different kind of pain than the physical kind we play with in the lifestyle. Oddly enough, the physical pain and the mind games of D/s tend to allow me (and I think for Mr. D too in a different way) to release a lot of pent up stress. I’m not going to go into the science of it, though that is interesting in itself, but I have learned that pain can be valuable for release.

Before Mr. D, I had not really experienced much real play with pain. I had some spankings and some flogging but not anything in depth. Mr. D chooses ways to inflict pain that I would not choose myself. He likes the stingy variety sometimes. He likes predicaments. He watches me squirm and is entertained as I try to get out of the situation. I think it thrills him to feel the play of power and watch the workings of my mind trying to escape.

When he has me in a predicament and I’m feeling the pain of his whipping or slapping or that $&@!! little paddle, I have the strangest duality in my mind. I desperately want the play. We’ve waited all week to be together and I ache for him. I also want the power exchange and feel the need for that build until he chooses to display his power and starts a scene. But, and here’s the predicament, its painful! I know, you’re thinking, “Well, no shit Sherlock, that’s what you signed up for.” Exactly! The thing is, I want it badly but it is real physical pain. No matter how much I want it, it hurts and my base instinct is to run from it.

When we’re in the throes of a scene, I’ll squirm and try to get away from the horrible stingy thing that is attacking me. I’ll try so hard not to cover myself and not to whimper but eventually it gets too painful and I break down. I tell him it’s too much, I whimper for him to stop. I beg him but I don’t use my safe word. Recently, Mr. D will call me a liar. He’ll quietly say, “Liar. You tell me you don’t want this and you cry to make it stop but I can feel your wetness and your body is telling me something entirely different than your words.” That gets me every time.  I’m not lying but my body makes me a liar.  The mind fuck of that and of being called a liar just stirs me to no end.
 

This is why I think I must be a pain slut. My body wants the pain and the release no matter what my mind wants. Against all instincts that pain is a bad thing and I should run, my body responds. I thrill for his power. I thrill at the shock and the fear. Something about it sets me off every time without fail.

Even when I don’t slip into subspace, I get wet and my body responds. In subspace, the pain becomes something else. The fear and desire to run from it disappears. I just want more. I want it to never end.

Image from Pixavay through CC0 public domain Public Domain