A huge storm is raging

A huge storm is raging outside.

The lightning is filling the sky as the sun sets, and the trees from the jungle seem to loom closer, bending in the sudden wind squalls. The rain is falling in torrents from dark sky and the noise from the combination of rain and thunder is deafening. 

The rain splashes on the ground and rebounds a foot into the air; air which smelts hot, wet and full of rotting vegetation.

The thunder either claps like a large brown paper bag bursting over head , or rumbles round the towering nimbus clouds.

And in the time it has taken me to type , the sun has set...................and now the lightning is filling the sky with bluey green flashes and the smell is reminiscent of fireworks.

I love the moments just before a storm breaks, when you know its coming, when those sudden fierce gusts of wind rattle windows, send leaves scurrying across the ground, and the strange smell in the air...of rain and heat and noise.

I love the moment when the first drops of rain fall on grass and everything smell green, or on hot roads and pavements when the air is filled with the smell of hot dust. 

I love the way the lightning fills the sky, distorting and changing images, or snakes down from the sky, searching for the ground, like a living being.

I love the rain, oh how I love the rain, soft and gentle, like a gentle falling mist, then hard and torrential, when it hurts to be in it, filing the ground, warm puddles to wiggle your toes in, watching it pouring off gutters and roof and the flickering reflections thrown up by the storm's light.

I'm off to sit outside and watch.

Everyday I am thankful.

As a non American, I don't celebrate Thanksgiving, but I wish I did.

I think its a wonderful thing to do, to have a special time of each year set aside to think about and give thanks for what is good in your life; those things, big and small that give you joy and happiness and make you feel blessed.
A time free from commercialism, to spend with those you love, to contact those you cannot be with, a time to count your blessings.

I used to do it on March 21st every year, as finally the days started to lengthen, giving thanks for the passing of the winter and a new year. Had I been a Zoroastrian it would have been perfect, but I'm not.

However, that's when I did it.

But now......I have no beginning of Spring.

I don't do the whole "New Years Eve" thing.

But I am thankful..............everyday..................sometimes I just need to remind myself.

Shared past and a stupid song

Yesterday morning, I was so looking forward to talking to him. Our connection was restored, I felt good.
He was happy too and once again in a silly mood. We are roughly the same age and he has all these expectations that we have many shared past experiences, shared social memories of TV programmes, childhood activities, remembered foods etc. But what he often forgets is that we grew up very differently. He is always surprised when  I have no idea what he is talking about, that I really don't know.It's like there are big gaps in my past. I can hear the incredulity in his voice, the emphasis on the "how" the question "But HOW don't you know?"

He was not happy that I had no idea about a particular song; a song that is special to him. He tried to teach it to me................its a very very silly song, with silly lyrics , that are artificially manipulated to fit a tune and try as I might I couldn't remember the words( can you detect a little song snobbery here?).

I laughed, he laughed, I laughed some more as I tried to sing it for him.

Then I muttered under my breath"Stupid fucking song".

This was NOT a good move.

Not exactly the right thing to say when it is the song for his football team......he sent me away with strict instruction to learn the song and sing it the next day for him.

Well, I just did, and it was not right, not word perfect...I missed one word..................so by tonight I have to have it perfect...............or else!

Stupid fucking song.

This was control

Very slowly I wound the rope under my tits, and pulled, and kept pulling till he said stop. I tied them as he has shown me a hundred time, following his spoken instruction. I hadn't finished the last knot and already I could feel the pain...

Four pegs were already on me; One on each lip; two to remind me that I am allowed to speak when he chooses and two to remind me that every part of me is his. Ten more pegs, this time five on each engorged tit, the skin compressed between their biting edges, slipping, then gripping their vice like edges into the tender white skin. I waited for the next number, but it didn't come.

The rope cam next,round my neck, not tight, but just enough for me to feel it, like his hands that I miss, the touch of his skin, the squeeze on my throat......not tight......but just enough to remind me.

He talked about what was missing, what was wrong. what I am.

 I am a slave

 I have no limits

"No" is not a word in my vocabulary.

He made it clear I was not being punished, I had not done anything wrong. He had been  watching me closely, listening to me and could see and hear I missed his control and this was just a gentle(!) reminder.

And so I stood facing the wall..... trying to think about what I am, who I belong to, what he can do. and I did not move.

My head was flying around the place, list of things to do, jobs outstanding, places to be, dates to arrange...and slowly one by one the noise in my head subsided, it was quieter and I began to focus on him.

I was thirty minutes, it felt like five, but it was thirty.

"Come back to me" he said...I jumped and stood before him.

"Kneel, open your legs and put the toy in, then close them tight"

the pegs began to bite into my, hurting, a hot burning pain,making me whimper. I could hear it bouncing back on the satellite connection, and I felt ashamed. not a lot, but hearing my self, I could feel the blush creeping over my face.

He chuckled..."you can hear it , cant you?"

"yes Sir, I can"

"Make yourself cum'

 The pain ratcheted up in an instant, the pegs caught between my legs, one of them twisted around, each touch on my finger on myself brought more pain. Self inflicted ,unavoidable pain.

And despite myself I could feel the wetness, the need growing. My breath coming in short gasps, sweat beginning to form on my face,the ropes biting into my tits, my whole body beginning to shake with  a mixture of pain and pleasure, of longing and  of need........

.........and as I open my mouth to beg to be allowed to cum............

"STOP"

.

I knelt still, my hair damp with sweat, my eyes filled with tears of frustration and discomfort.

I  was given a choice....hit the pegs off with the cane he gave me, or jump up and down till they came off....so I chose the second option, thinking that the chances of me missing and hitting my nipples was greater than the pegs staying on too long.

I didn't look, I heard them fall off as I jumped, over and over again, first one, then 2,3 and 4...until all but 2 were left. I thought i would be there all night , jumping, without them moving. I had to pull them off and for once it was a relief.

"Get the hood"

I hate the hood, I hate the feeling of isolation, I hate it. It  is hot and stuffy and I think I cant breath,I hate not seeing anything, I hate it.

The pegs still on my lips, I put the hood on and lay face down on the floor, with my hands behind my back and my legs crossed and I tried to be calm. I tried to breath. I could hear his voice talking to me, telling me all I have to think about is him, nothing else, no one else.

He is my focus.

My bound tits felt like they would explode, the bars in my nipples would burst, splitting me open. they felt hot and sore and I couldn't think. I concentrated on his voice......

Slowly my head emptied, the noise subsided............quieter and quieter...until it was silent, and my mind filled with thoughts of him; of satisfying him, pleasing him, making him happy, and I relaxed, I felt no pain, no heat, nothing.

When he called my name...............it took a while to bring myself back, to get up and crawl back to him, to kneel before the camera, waiting to remove the hood.

He allowed me to take it off....................

"Oh that's better" he said, "you are smiling again".

And I was.

Off floating away, in my own place, the one I find, the one that finds me ...........and very gently he pulled me back, slowly talking to me, making me get ready for sleep, making me remove the last 4 pegs and ropes, checking me, gently talking to me, telling me how happy he was, how please he was. Telling me I was good.

I was cold. He allowed me my soft blanket, and as I wrapped myself up in in, feeling its softness sooth my sore skin his voice, his words, continued to sooth my heart,my soul.

I tied my nighttime rope to my feet and then hands and curled up and as I drifted off to sleep the sound of his voice in my ears with gentle words, my heart with happiness.

and I slept with a smile on my face.

I

This morning we talked again.
He made me look at him, in the eye. After all this time, does he not know how hard I find it? Of course he does, that's why he did it I guess.
Its so hard to hold his gaze, I desperately wanted to do as he says, to obey, yet my heart quaked beneath his piercing eyes, my submissive soul quivered under his domination.
I tried to do it, but no matter how hard, I found myself lowering my eyes.
He did not get cross. I heard him clear his throat. I looked up.
I looked again. It was like a battle inside my head.

Obey, obey, obey.
Submissive feeling don't look, submissive feelings don't look.

Obey won.

Then there was the thoughtful 'hmmmmmmmmmmmmm".

He told me I looked lost, like a small girl, unsure. without direction....................

And tonight he is going to solve this.
He has a plan.
I know what his plans include.

It includes lots and lots of questions, probing, searching deep within my heart. I feel like my brain is turned inside out , examined and put back together the way he wants, the way he likes, the way that is right.
It includes measured control; every moment, every breath, every word.

It includes pain. It is not the pain, it is the control that comes with it.

It includes openness, honesty, truth.

It includes humiliation.

It includes trust, total trust; unquestioning belief in what he does is what is good for me , what is right.

It is submission.

I am his slave.

celebrations

Happy Thanksgiving to all those celebrating today.

Crying

I don't know what is wrong. I really don't.

This morning I woke up, as I always do, and he was there waiting to talk to me. 

We talked about the night before when I had gone out and had come back and we had missed the time that had been set aside, and how he understood, we talked about me being sent to bed. 

We talked about why I couldn't sleep in the night and why once again he had resorted to me getting the rope and having my feet and hands bound.

We talked about my day ahead, and what I had to do. How he wanted me home straight from work, that I was to rest.

I showered, as I do for him every morning, so he can examine me, check that is property is in the sate he likes it; clean shaven. He likes to watch it happen, to make sure its done as he likes it, that my skin is creamed, that I am ready to dress in the clothes he has chosen.

And then.....................I had to cum for him, to stand against the wall and make myself cum (this time on 2 legs!). This is a normal part of my day, happening often. Nothing new.

I was overcome with feelings of sadness.

I sobbed and sobbed...and then I sobbed some more.

He stopped me and called me back to him, and I sobbed.

I couldn't tell him what was wrong....because I don't know

I remember saying sorry through the sobs, for not doing as I had been told. He reassured me it didn't matter, that it was ok. 

He wanted to know what was wrong and I couldn't tell him. He reassured me I would be ok.

Now I am waiting for him to talk to me.

sent to bed

When I got home he sent me to bed:(
with a quick goodnight and an order to think about him as I fall asleep ...like I don't every night.

Oops a cancelled date.

Schedules and timetables, time difference and lives have been getting in our way. Today I was meant to come straight home , via the gym and be ready to talk to him, be ready to spend time with him, and at 9.07 am this morning I was told I had, yes HAD, to go out to dinner tonight with some visiting professor.

I know it was 9.07, coz I looked at my phone hoping he would still be awake. Knowing he would ask me when I knew, why I hadn't told him. I didn't ring in case he was asleep, but sent an email, explaining what was going on, why the short notice etc. My phone seemed to burn a whole in my pocket all day.

Has he woken up?

 Has he seen it?

 What does he think?

 Is he awake?

Has he read it?


Now, I am a very fortunate slave, who has an owner who reassures me on a regular basis that I must do nothing to put myself, my job or anything else in jeopardy to accommodate him.However, he does expect to be fully informed and in plenty of time. So I knew I would not be in trouble, would not be punished, but I also knew he would be "less than happy".


 And as soon as I thought he would be awake, I called...and he was  "less than happy", but does understand, doesn't want me to be rude and rush to leave, but wants his time with me. So tonight is going to be a late one. And his "less than happy"...hmmmmm

He will make a point, just to remind me that whilst I have all these reassurances, first and foremost in my mind, must always be...

Him.

 And now he is here.

briefly

Early morning and Sunrise

This morning I woke just before the sun rose. As I looked outside I could see the mist rising out of the jungles, through the high canopy. The leaves glistening and dripping with morning dew.

The sound of the birds rising in a crescendo as the sun appeared over the invisible horizon.

I  half closed my eyes, ignoring the sudden increase in heat from the risen sun, and just for a moment, just one sweet moment, I was home on a cold and foggy November morning.

And then the heat from the sun and its retina burning bright light blasted me back into reality.

Last night I said no

We were playing last night, we had been talking for 3 hours and he decided it was time to play silly games again. We were laughng, he had me doing all sorts of silly things again, and I was laughing, thinking sometimes we all forget about the fun , the laughter and the joy that being a slave can bring.

We were laughing.

And then, "I know, we'll play truth or dare" And without thinking out of my mouth came that forbidden word. Although its not the word itself, its the intent behind it.

It was emphatic.

No

I wanted the ground to open up, I wanted the world to end.

I heard him ask, very quietly" What did you say?"

I couldn't answer him, I just couldn't , I couldn't speak, I couldn't look at him.

Silence...................

"Face the wall"

I stood facing the wall, tears pouring down my face, silently collecting under my chin, dropping onto the floor.
My shoulders began to heave, great sobs filled my chest, caught in my throat .......and escaped.

And I stood there filled with unhappiness and overwhelming shame.

He called me back to him.

I knelt...I waited.

" I should punish you" he said "but I see I don't need to".

And gently, very gently he talked to me, his voice caressing my bruised heart. He told me to look at him, and I did. I felt his love, his compassion, his understanding and his control.

"Truth or dare?"
'Truth Sir" I managed to answer
"What do you need most?"
"You Sir"

And I felt owned.

I felt free.

The waiting Game

She seemed to have spent her whole life waiting. Waiting like most people do.  She was, on the outside, just like most people.

As a child she waited for the her birthday, waiting for cards to drop through the door, she waited for Christmas, and that feeling of overwhelming excitement when she realised her stocking was full, and holding her breath for just a  extra second, she waited to peer inside.

She waited for the school bell, the end of term, which seemed to stretch out into infinity. She waited  for buses, trains and lots and lots of planes. She had lost count of the hours she had sat in cavernous airports and drafty train stations, at motorway cafés, and on the side of the road looking for a lift.

She waited.

 She was good at waiting.

 As a teenager she waited, like all teenagers d; for the phone to ring. She waited for the other person to hang up; laughing at their own inability to say goodbye.

She waited for people to change, to grow up, to look at their behaviour and find it wanting. She gave up waiting and left.

She waited twice for babies to come; holding them to herself, savoring the wait, enjoying those private moments late in the night , talking to them, telling them about the waiting game she played, and how she was waiting for their arrival.

She waited for him, night after night dreading his return, fearing the sound of the door opening. Her heart pounding.

And she lay beside him, silently, waiting for the alcohol to work, waiting for him to be fast asleep. And as she waited she planned her escape.

It was a long wait.

 She waited until she was ready, till she no longer cared if she lived or died, till he could hurt her no more, and she escaped.

Everyone else waited, waited for her to come back to life, for her vacant eyes to fill with life again.

She didn’t know she was waiting.

And then the sky was blue one day. And she noticed; and she knew she had stopped waiting.

And now.

Now she waits with her heart filled.

She waits for him. Her owner.

 She waits to talk to him. She waits to see him. She waits for his instructions, his orders. She waits.

She is still.

She waits until he asks her what she needs. She waits for the words to form in her head to explain to him how she feels and she waits to tell him.

 She waits on her knees.

This waiting is good….this feeling….this happiness…this total contentment…..this control.

This is what she has waited for.

The waiting is over.

He misses me...........

Reasons to be cheerful :

He misses me...yes he does...he told me.

He is proud of me...he told me that too.....he said he is proud of the way I am coping with being away, proud of what I am doing, proud that I am working hard to be a good slave when it is difficult.

He misses me...did I say that?

I have a long lazy weekend ahead of me, no real work to do and plenty of opportunirty to stay up late into the night , talking to him, being with him.

The sun is shinning.

There is a roast chicken in the fridge and I have manged to get some thick white fresh bread to have a big doorstep sandwich later.

I have a cup of cold diet coke in my hand.

By my shower is a new blade for my venus razor and a small treasured bottle of my favourite shampoo.

There is an email in my inbox from my sister.

He said I make him happy...and he misses me.

He said he will keep me forever.

* slave sitting with a big smile on her face and a heart full of happiness*

These are the simple things that made me smile today....sometimes I forget to think about them.

It needs to be a very long rope

Since I last managed to post on Saturday I have been one sickly slave. I am one of those people who is never ill, never sick and always disgustingly healthy. So being struck down with some revolting sickness bug has left me feeling pathetic and wondering how I got it. I am exposed in my work to so many germs, yucky things and coughing spluttering people depositing bodily fluids at will, that I have such a strong immune system that it surprises me when one tiny little bug gets though all those antibodies flowing through me. You have to be a big germ to bring down this slave.

I spent all day horizontal Saturday, and Sunday apart from a very rough 4 hour journey home on a bouncing rickety  bus through the jungle, where I clenched muscles I didn't know I have. Monday  I didn't move from my pit, not even to have a drink, Tuesday I managed a few hours at work before being sent home for looking too sick, Wednesday I was off  again and finally, today, I did a whole day. Having felt so bad, it never ceases to amaze me that I feel so good today; full of energy, buzzing at work and desperate to get home and have the opportunity to talk with him.

When I managed to be in contact with him, he was kind, thoughtful, asking how I felt, making sure I was looking after his property well enough. from all these thousands of miles away.  I felt more cared for, more concern directed at me, than I ever felt in my old vanilla relationships. He often tells me that he takes care of his property........and he does.

As soon as he felt I was well enough however, we were back to the old routines, feeling his control, him using his slave, ensuring I knew who was boss, and that I may have been ill, but first and foremost  I AM his slave.

I sleep with my feet tied, my hands tied to my feet in front of me and the end of the rope tied to the bed. If I need to get up I have to call or text or IM and ask for permission, although this time I was given an "open permission " to get up. How difficult I found it, dithering on the edge of the bed, wondering if I really needed to, or if I was just trying to make myself need to, because I had an opportunity  to make the decision for myself. And yet when he makes me choose something, I squirm and try to get out of it, until the count down begins and I know if he gets to zero, the choice will be his, and he usually chooses both options, plus an extra for being indecisive! That overwhelming need for control filled those moments in the dark hours of the night.

I miss his hand on the end of my rope; feeling the resistance if I move in the night, how he slowly lets it run through his fingers as I walk to the bathroom and how he seems to have some secret knowledge of just where to stop it so I am just short of the toilet. I miss his cruel chuckle as I beg for that extra six inches, and I even miss having to stand there for what seems like hours with my bladder seemingly contorting inside me. And I even miss the snide remark and the wicked smile on his face when I crawl back into bed beside him and thank him, and the laugh when he says"You're welcome slave".

 This is rapidly becoming one of those..."I miss....." posts so I am going to stop before I'm a gibbering heap of miserable, self pitying ineptitude in the corner.

I'm going to go outside, enjoy the warm breeze, the noises of the night and think about my return to the end of his rope.

Wearing a routte to the toilet

Oh how many times can one person be sick in 24 hours........curl up and die ....ouch...no don't squash your stomach, slave.
He told me to go back to sleep.
Normal service will be resumed soon.

and when someone appears from your past

oh dear....oh dear...how difficult life can be sometimes.
Someone just popped up, out of the blue...out of the past.....just to say hello...check that I was ok...that life was good(yes it is), and no matter how hard it is to ignore those..."I wonder what if...." thoughts.

And now I will have to tell him that my past came to say hello, what I felt, and what I thought...and I don't want him to feel that it was a real though...just a passing fancy.

And why does it happen when I cant talk to him?

Bleary eyed peering and stolen moments

Today will soon be over for me and just beginning for my owner. It is strange to be, for the time being, in such different time zones, but it is something that we are managing to circumvent, to manage.

Sometime he wakes me early in the morning and I peer, bleary eyed, into the web cam, hair looking like a wild woman, smiling because I know he is there, that he is the first person I see in the morning, the first voice I hear.. Sometimes I am  awake for just a short time and others I beg to be allowed to stay awake to spend time with him. Sometimes it is allowed, but often denied on the grounds that soon I will have to get up for work and I need to be wide awake for my job, not something  I can do hungover, tired or not focused....and so I am sent back to sleep.

Sometimes, he stays awake late into the night and early into the morning to talk to me,to control me, to allow me to submit to him and his will, to show my submission to him, continuing my training, and each stolen moment is, no matter how hard or demanding, precious.

Tomorrow I am away for 3 days, I may manage to be in contact with him , I may not and so I  will hold close in my heart his words, the memory of his touch, the look in his eye, the smile on his face when I have pleased him and the sound of his voice when he says those words...................."good girl"

And so I apologise now if the next few posting are self pitying whinging and whining and filled with lots of "woe is me" type statements, but I do have such good news...in just two and a half months I will be home.

rainbows

Today I had a lovely day at work, home early and a rainbow as the sunset...happy day

Face like a bullfrog in a drought...or...how is he always right?

The deepest darkest fears thing was all sorted out....he has spent the last 2 days asking me what wrong, why am I "off" what is wrong...endlessly, over and over again, disguised in different words but all asking the same question and all I could do was answer honestly..there was nothing wrong , I was fine, just because  I wasn't leaping round with a smile on my face doesn't mean anything is wrong.

I think the words"I am fine" are like a red rag to a bull to him. He thinks I am hiding something: some deep and meaningful hidden feeling, worry or concern, ...but really it just means "I am fine, its Monday, or Tuesday, I have work, I have stuff to do, nothing is wrong and ................I am fine thank you Sir"

Yesterday I think he reached the end of his tether with my protestations of "fineness".. Maybe it was that I had the face of a bull frog in a drought, or my monosyllabic answers that finally convinced him that maybe , even if I didn't know there was something wrong, that there actually was...and so step were taken,

I was resentful, standing there, humiliated, feeling hurt and angry that he wouldn't believe me that everything was ok, tears pouring down my face , like an innocent in the dock.

H e tried again........and then I though he had given up and he sent me to bed. I did all my usual rituals, bedtimes stuff, and then he had me tie my feet together,  then to my hands, and tie them together, wished me goodnight, told me to turn down the light, set the alarm, not to move out of bed till he came back to talk to me in the morning and to sleep.................

Well...I wriggled and I huffed and puffed and couldn't get comfortable, I thought I would never sleep. the rope dug into me, they rubbed, they were too tight, every time I moved they hurt. The stupid thing was they weren't tight, in fact I could have slipped my hands out at any time ...but it never occurred to me.


Finally I stopped fighting them, discovered where the limitations were, where I was comfortable, what I was able to do, and not.(did I mention I wriggly like a demented worm in bleach in bed?) fight it any more, and I slept...peacefully, no dreaming...no waking....nothing...just sleep.

He was waiting for me when I woke up.............I felt like a different person......light and free...controlled, soooooooo submissive and happy.  I lay on the bed talking to him , and then still bound came for him,. He said do it slowly, make it last, I lasted about 20 seconds before I had to beg him to be allowed to cum, leaving a wet patch on the bed.

And he gave me the task to think about why I was feeling so much better.......... .and I came up with the reasons.................

This weekend I am going away, deeper into the jungle and will not be able to talk with him  much and I guess I was frightened of being without him..hence the face like a bullfrog...........an overwhelming sense of sadness and aloneness that clouded my vision, but was obviously all too clearly written all over my face.

And the rope thing...............hmmmm..........he is so clever...always ahead of me....talk about metaphor.........limitations.......comfort.....fighting and acceptance......

So even when I think I am hiding from myself he knows where to find me, and mouse (thank you for your comments) you are right, I should trust him, and my own judgment, he really does know me better than I do, he knows what I need and what is good for me, and I should leave myself completely in his hands.

Hiding and in trouble

Not sure why he has decided its a "games weekend"...but I don't like it any more. I have never liked "truth or dare", for all sorts of reasons....mainly that I think its dangerous in most situations and in this one...I was right.
I never chose "dare" because I have to tell the truth anyway, so why risk a dare with the strange mood he is in .....and now I'm in trouble...not for telling the truth...but because I did tell the truth. (that makes sense in my head, not sure it does on paper) The question was ...."what are you holding back?" and so I told him about my deepest fears...I know he knows them, but having to say it, having to type it, leaving it there on the screen, they just looked enormous, so overwhelming...so insurmountable. I don't want him to see them, to look, to scrutinise them and pull them apart , piece by painful piece.

I was filled with sadness and fear, seeing them typed there on the screen made them appear possible, almost inevitable. I know the likelihood is small, but even that is enough to have me sobbing, wanting to turn away from him when I should turn towards him. Not because he was being cruel, but because he was pushing me again, and I hated it and I hated him.

I was exhausted by the time he had finished , I felt bruised and battered, more so than any physical beating, canning or any punishment. I hurt................and sleep was my refuge.

Sleep was fitful, filled with disturbing images and emotions.

I had to call him again before I left for work, and he said he could hear how unhappy I was in my voice...............I'm not unhappy...........just shaky and so I did what I am best at....I hid at work, so I couldn't talk to him, couldn't be contacted and now I'm in trouble.

"Nothing shows a man's character more than what he laughs at".

This morning I think he had his silly head on. Either that or there was nothing worth watching on the TV.I think the thought in his head was "What's the point of having a toy if you don't play with it?" He watches me when I sleep, and last night he knew, that as is so often the case, I was beset by weird and disturbing dreams. Nothing specifically scary,nothing conventionally scary, no monster, no ghosts or machete wielding madmen, just weird enough to keep me balanced on the edge of sleep, tossing and turning, moaning and crying out. Travelling round my big bed, till I woke up on the edge, just before I fell.

He allowed me to pee and then told me I had to sleep again.............and although I tried, I really did, it just would not come, and so for the next 60 minutes I lay with eyes closed, fidgeting until he allowed me to get up.

I could almost feel the change of tone, the change of mode as we continued to talk.....we had a spare half an hour......and so to pass the time.............he had me stand on one foot.................why is it so much easier when no one is watching....why does it become impossible when you are told "Don't move", and why does it become funny when you have to cum standing on one leg, not moving?

He chuckled.

Then he told me to kneel without putting my knees on the floor...took me a while to work out that meant squat.............................and then cum....................oh he laughed when I fell over as I was cumming It was not so much a fall , as a spectacular upending of his slave, onto her arse, with legs in the air and a silly look on her face as she did a beetle impression.

He laughed.

Then it was  "pull your nipples out by the bars, close your eyes, turn around 4 time"s ......and I failed. I wasn't facing in exactly the right direction,,,I was about 20 degrees off...hell I though I had done well....

I failed.

He laughed.

I started again....but this time I had to hop...................

Amazingly I was facing in the right direction...........

We both laughed.

And then I had to cum again........amazingly...this time I was lying down...and we laughed.I wanted to go back to sleep...no chance.

Who says being a slave is not fun?

The price of pleasure

Yesterday morning when we were talking, he reminded me that i hadn't cum for a week.............like I needed reminding! All week, I have been squirmy, hoping he would notice or at least wonder why.............well,yesterday he did. Either that or he just thought he might as well do something to stop me from yawning.

While I am away, it is difficult to do as he wants, not because I don't want to. If anything I want and need to even more, but it is difficult to hurt myself  with the intensity that he would............but ...............caning my cunt always hurts. But in the end I don't suppose it matters how much, just the fact that I do as I am told, when i am told is what is important. And the longer I am away, the more I realise this. It matters that I feel his control. It is the control I need, not the pain.
So cuming quickly, very quickly after the caning amused him. He laughed, chuckled to himself, fully aware that I could hear him.It wasn't from cruelty, just from amusement. Then I had to cum again....oh and again and this is all before 6am.
I was sent off to work with a smile on my face, a tender cunt..oh and instructions to cum  again before lunch.So maybe I am on a "cumfest" now.... or maybe not.

I didn't get a chance to post this on the day I wrote it, and I think I may have been right. Again last night, over and over again he made me cum, with the reminder that I am a slave, I have no rights, no control. His choice last night was to remind me that with pleasure comes a price, and today it was pain.  Pegs on cunt, a "gift" from him vibrating  inside me, my legs tightly closed and made to cum, wanting  to stop,, the pain filling me, flooding into my body,until I could focus on his words.  Listening to him  keeps me focused, simple things that make the thousands of miles that separates us at present disappear. Things that connect us while I cannot feel his hand.
I was happy to be allowed to sleep early, sent to bed with a sore cunt,a "good girl" ringing in my ears and a smile on my face as I fell asleep.

This morning, he knew I had to leave just after dawn, and so he had me wake early, go through the usual routine of the morning, and then again, he said I was to cum, but he continued talking. I knew where it was leading, and every so often I looked at the clock on my screen, and I know he knew what I was doing as he watches me like a hawk, and yet he talked and I listened and then I finally in the last minute before I had to leave he told me to cum for him, and then he told me I would be late!...don'tcha just love 'em.


\

3 in 1

Living on the equator is a fine and wondrous thing. people told me I was lucky: permanent sunshine, hot days, warm nights.................. Summer everyday.

 But what I have come to realise is that this is not the case at all... we have 3 season...we have Summer, Spring and Autumn. I have not made a mistake placing them in that order, I could have put Autumn, Spring, Summer...because the thing is ...we have them all...at the same time.

The sun shines all day(mostly), for 12 hours a day, with beautiful blue skies, unless it is cloudy, but they tend not to last long. The plants grow all year long, big beautiful trees and plants filling the rain forest. Dressed in every hue of green that you can imagine, from the deepest darkest green to the most delicate, almost translucent green. Trees growing straight and true, so tall that to try to see the top, to glimpse the crown is almost umimagineable unless you are lying down. The biggest leaves growing on bendy stalks blowing in the breeze and the tiniest leaves, closing when touched by a gently landing insect.......verdant is the only way to describe it...and summer.

And then there is Spring: which happens at the same time. Delicate buds and flowers opening on the trees: yellow like giant laburnum, the bright bright red of the flame tree flowers, delicate pink flowers that look like cherry blossom gently float down to the ground after a sudden cloudburst. New leaves appearing on the frangipangi plants in the garden and tadpoles appearing in the strangest places...puddles in the road: where you will them to move some where more permanent before they are slowly fried by the hot equatorial sun. A feeling a fertility and growth surrounds me everyday.

But at the same time....all around, the trees and plants hand with fruit and seed pods, fallen seed cover the floor , the ground is littered  with leaves of every shape and every size, every hue and every colour. They float down , twirling, swirling, leaving the ground covered in a multi coloured carpet. And occasionally, just very occasionally there is a morning mist , rising from the jungle, and it almost feels as if there is a chill in the air, but only fleetingly, until the sun is up and over the horizon and it disappears on the dawn zephyr.

So you see, although the temperature may be 30C everyday, I am still blessed with the seasons, you just have to look for them.

I found it... the deep and meaingful one

The very nature of the female anatomy hides the physical essence of our femininity: like the beauty within an unopened wild orchid. The space in which we grow are children is hidden, deep within our bodies and so it is hardly surprising that being trained to be open is difficult, difficult on the heart, on the mind and on the sense of self. Years of  society's, family and personal conditioning  that needs to be explored, opened, undone.

Physically it is easier for some to be open, to allow themselves to find peace in satisfyingly their master's expectation that they are physically open. For me, this is  not a problem, it has never really been a problem; not after the first few toe curling, cheek reddening, embarrassing moments when I wanted to curl up and die, thinking that he only saw the imperfections I see each time I look in the mirror. Now I no longer think about it as he inspects me.  It is just something that happens. That he watches me shower, that the parts of me that are hidden from the world are his to look at, explore, examine and generally to with and too what he so chooses, is just the way it is.

So why do I find it so hard to open up my thoughts in the same way? Is it a matter of self preservation? What he doesn't know about me he cant use against me, judge me and my failings, or is it some deeper fear that he will get my feeling and lay them on the table; look at them, explore and examine them and do with them and to them whatever he so chooses?
 I have no reason to think any of this. He has never, at any point, done anything to lead me to believe that he will, in fact completely the opposite. He can be demanding, exacting, persistent, , manipulative (sounds like a check list for a good master) etc etc, but he is loving and kind, patient thoughtful and supportive, gentle and operates with my best interest at the base of our dynamic.

I have knelt before him, naked, with his hand on my throat, the pressure from his fingers increasing until the last thing I think of before I am enveloped in peace and blackness is him, my trust in him and his ability and desire to look after me, and yet I know I hold things back, and I know he knows. And each time I do, the punishment is worse( no I don't do it for the punishments...I hate them and all the feelings that are tied in with them!).

I wish I knew.

grrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Just typed a long post, deep and meaningful and then deleted it...oh bum.

So instead .......

How come I planted mint and coriander and got flowers of some plant that looked like mint and I tried it and ate a leaf...it was not mint.

How come the tv progrmmes I want to watch are after the time I have to be in bed

How come I can lay awake at night for hours and hours, but the moment he says "time for bed" I start to yawn,,,every damn time and it makes him laugh.

How come my cat eats muesli and sweetcorn, but not the hummingbird she caught..how the hell she did it is beyond me I mean.......it can beat it wings at 50 beats per second, fly in 4 different directions, including backwards  and it cant avoid being caught.

How come everything moves slowly here, the heat sapping out the energy of almost everyone....everyone that is except the ants ....what do they know that I don't.

note to self....do not tell my owner about the 50 beats per second..he might get ideas.

oh my goodness

!Wow!-I had a comment:)...thank you mouse

 another hot day ahead.....................things are good.................this slave is smiling, my owner is pleased again.