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. 

Daddy’s Not Here

We were fucking.  More accurately, he was fucking me.  We had played, I had come for him, now he was having his.  His cock stretched me wide with each thrust.  The first thrust stung.  Our first night back together we had slipped and I had torn a little.  I could feel it still. 

I knew the pain would disappear if I got past the stingy beginning.  Once he was in and my pussy swelled, I would only feel the pleasure. Liking pain, at least in the sexual arena, is helpful in some situations. 

He sped up and fucked me hard and fast.  We had been at it a while.  He wasn’t going over the edge. This was going to take something more.

“Slut, you are going to make me come. This is your job, figure it out.”  One strokes, two strokes, I had nothing.  I know me, I am a horrible actress.  If something is not my idea, not truly felt from my tiptoes on up through my sex with real passion or in subspace then it rings horribly false.  I knew he’d see right through me. 

As he was fucking me, I had desperately wanted to rub my clit. I hadn’t. I decided that was a real desire, an authentic action.  Maybe something good would come of it. 

I snaked my hand down between us and rubbed my clit.  It felt so good I rubbed it harder.  “Nice, Slut. Keep going.”  He was watching me now.  I felt his heat focusing, I felt my body quicken. I was getting hotter and needy.  Yesssss

Now I could connect with the dirty little slut inside me. She’s always there waiting.  Usually Daddy brings her out but sometimes I can too.

I rocked my hips as he fucked me. I began to lose my grip on reality and only felt him.  “I love your cock in me Daddy.  I need you fucking me. Please keep fucking me.”

Out of nowhere his hand came up and slapped my tits hard.  I whimpered piteously.  The harsh sting expanded out from my nipples.  “No Daddy, please no!” I cried.

He looked down at me all hardness and sin. “Do NOT tell me NO.  Daddy is not here anymore.”

My protective Daddy was gone, sadistic Master had arrived.  He would not put up with any bullshit or back talk. “Yes D-d-daddy…Sir. Yes Sir.” I stammered.  In my state of arousal I had a hard enough time controlling my words but Sir and Master are so rarely used they feel foreign.

He gripped my neck and fucked me with force and heat and intensity.  When he loosened his grip on my neck I gagged my breath back into my throat.  But some evil thought was bouncing around in my oxygen deprived mind. Tell him no.

His hand slapped my tits again. “What slave?” Fuck, he could see every damned thought in my head.

The pain shook that thought away. “Ahhh, it hurts!” I said. By God it stung. 

“You poor thing. You’re mine. I’ll do what I want until you make me come.  What are you?”

“Your slut.” He fucked me continously.

“What else? Keep your hand moving.”  I kept rubbing my clit.

“Your slave.” 

“Yes, my slave but what else are you?”  He was looking for something but what?

It finally occured to me. “Your wife.” I whispered. 

“That’s right. My wife. That makes you mine…mine forever. And you will take what I give you.  You will take my come.”  At that he shuddered and filled me full of his seed. 


Mr. D has had the idea of collaring me on his mind since the night he put a makeshift collar on me and loved how I reacted to it. He had me measure my neck a few days ago and yesterday he showed me the materials he bought to make me a collar.  Mr. D is studying leather craft and has devoted so much time to developing his skill that he has gotten amazingly good in a very short period of time.  The collar material is an unfinished belt leather and a red suede kid goat skin.  I love how he thinks of me and my needs and desires.

I have several posts to write about the activity over the past two weeks.  We went to Mexico, we played there and on the way back.  But I started writing those posts and can’t get my mind off this. Yesterday, we played and both times it was beyond intense.  Almost too intense for me.  I came away both times crying and unsure of myself and wondering if I had done what he wanted, or if my reactions were too far over the edge.  After our second time playing, he admitted that he was purposefully harsh and testing me.  He is very concerned about the idea of collaring me and how it will change us.

Yesterday, while we were running errands, he mentioned the last time I reacted negatively to our play.  It was when I felt off about him calling me slut.  When he said, “my slut,” it felt right but just being asked to be a slut felt like it was against my normal level of societal standards. He told me that he’d been very careful since then to always say ‘my’ first. Later when we came home, we were lying together on the bed.  He said, “I don’t know about us living together someday. The way we are together, we’ll never get anything done.” We are both very driven individuals in our own ways.  When we are together, we get lost in each other and the drive seems to be on hold.  It’s really nice but we spend a lot of time in bed!

I wrapped my body around his and whispered, “But I’LL get done,” and laughed.  He pinned me to the bed and began teasing me for that remark.  At some point, in the middle of him pinning me down things got much more serious. He began asking me what I am, telling me what I am. “You’re my slut, aren’t you?” I nodded.  “You’re my cunt, aren’t you?” I nodded again.  He was aroused now and the darkness was on him. “You’re my little bitch in heat. That’s what you are. Aren’t you? Beg me for my little cock, if you want it.” He knows words don’t come to me immediately.  I have to dig myself out and respond as if from the bottom of a well.

“Yes, Daddy, please fuck me.” Weak words barely dribbled out of the sides of my mouth, they were weighted down by my shame and trepidation.

“Not good enough slut. Do you think you deserve my cock with that? Not even close.  You’re going to have to do much better than that.” His hand pushed my head back and his fingers curled around my throat.  I could barely see him out of the corner of my eye but I knew he wasn’t joking now.

“Please Daddy, please fuck me.  Please put your cock in me.” The words gasped out as they had to push against his grip on my throat.  Their struggle to be free of my lips instilled them with more force than I had given them. Still, it was not enough.

“I don’t think I should fuck you, little cunt, you don’t want it.” His fingers were invading my soft folds without mercy. I was dry from running errands and not having my mind on sex at all until this. I whimpered against the pain and the desperation to please him.  I was failing.

“Please Daddy! Please fuck your little slut! Please, I want your cock inside me. Please Daddy!” This time the desperate need pulled the words like tiny rockets from my lips.  They shot past him and filled my ears with the sounds of my aching wantonness.

“That’s better. You’d better be wet.” My heart crushed, I knew I probably wasn’t wet enough. How could I do anything about that now?  He pushed his hard cock into my dry opening and I felt it ripping.  He pulled back and I prayed my body wouldn’t be a traitor.  Pushing into me again, he was in far enough that the quickening of my wetness took hold.  Thank God, I thought. Once the slickness covered his length, I arched my back and felt my body rush to meet his.  I’m ever his slut, all that is needed is his body on mine.  The response is always there, my body is ever his toy and his playground.  I moaned and grabbed ahold of him as he fucked me.

“What are you?” His eyes lanced me to the bed.

“I’m your slut, your whore, your bitch.” I knew my place, I knew the answers, I had my voice.

“Good.” He growled as he thrust repeatedly into me.  He held my feet together, my legs on his chest, my feet to the side of his face.  He looked at me and fucked me through the tight opening he created between my thighs.  I moaned my approval.  He sucked on my toes and it felt incredible.  Never has that been a desire of mine but right then it was so hot.

He let my legs down and put his hands behind my knees.  He pushed them up to my shoulders and thrust deeply into my pelvis.  It feels like he’s splitting me in two when he does that.  His cock goes really far inside me in this position.  It is at once intensely erotic and slightly uncomfortable.  I looked up at him and his eyes were shaded.  He looked at me with a pure intensity.

“Who am I?” The fucking continued unabated.


“Yes.” Deeper thrusting.

“Who am I?” My immediate thought, the one that came rushing in without hesitation, was that he was my Master.  He was in full virile control of me and us.  But, I wasn’t to call him that.  He didn’t want that.  It wasn’t our agreement.  I couldn’t say it.  The words cluttered and bumped around in my throat as I clamped my mouth shut.  But he was still asking.

“Who am I?” His voice was deep and harsh, forceful under tight control. I had no other answer and he was commanding me to respond. He slapped me across the face and it  shocked me deeply.

“Answer me.” He barked.

“Master.” I sobbed out the words. “My Master.” I want this.  He knows I do.  To me he is my Master. Has been for a long time now.  We don’t put it in those terms, though.  But I am his completely.

“Yessss.” He groaned and came hard inside me. After recovering and while still inside me, he said, “I want your mouth on Daddy’s cock. Clean me up everywhere from my balls to the creases of my legs.”  I got between his legs and licked him clean, every inch of him.  While I did this I was shaking.  It was harder than I thought to admit that I wanted him to be my Master.  The thought of us in this new dynamic fills me with joy and with fear.

“Did you like calling me that?” I nodded as I cleaned him.  I couldn’t talk.  It had been so shockingly hard.  He had given me no quarter.  And he had slapped me. His level of dominance had been different.  He told me that was on purpose.  That we would have to talk seriously about what the changes would be if we did this.  We talked a little and then I went to the store because we were having guests over.  My vanilla friends were coming over for the first time.  They were coming and I could barely hold myself together.  I sat in the car at the store shaking.  Why was I so affected?  What had he done differently?  I felt like something happened and it was over my head.  I sensed a change I just couldn’t grasp it entirely yet.


Daddy is teaching me.  My last post took too much on myself.  He set me straight.  It is not my choice.  It is his choice to tease me and torment me as much as he wants, when and where he wants.

I am completely addicted to surrendering to him.  I love to serve those I love and I have a strong need to please people in general but these traits take on a whole new facet in my interactions with Mr. D. I hear the tone in his voice that brooks no dissent and I immediately surrender to his desire.

But true submission takes time and practice.  I want to submit further and more completely to him.  I am willing to put myself, my own ego, aside and follow his lead for I hunger to go where he goes and dance this dance with him.

As Mr. D told me today, we will be molded in this crucible together.   Yes, please.  This is my deepest desire.