Just a very quick message to wish everyone a very Happy New Year and to thank you for your support and encouragement with this blog.
Hope you all have a wonderful night and may all your wishes and hopes for 2011 become a reality.
Friday, 31 December 2010
Thursday, 30 December 2010
Removing words from my voacbulary.....I need a Thesaurus
This is control.
This is how he makes me think about things, about how I talk, how I respond, how I think.
This morning, for a few reasons I felt far away from home, very far. Far from friends and he knew why because in the spirit of being open ( haha in the spirit...under instruction on pain of all sorts of wickedly ownerish torture and abuse) I had told him and he knew.
He was kind and loving and asked me if I wanted to talk about it, and I declined his offer, which he accepted.............. and said I was fine.
He knew I wasn't, I knew I wasn't, but we left it at that....................
But now he has removed two words from my vocabulary..well phrases......"I'm fine" and "I'm ok"........also the use of the word "no" is to be banned completely, never to be uttered again.......so for the time being.................
I'm fine.
I'm ok.
No no no no no no
Wednesday, 29 December 2010
Action or inaction...either is wrong
There are those moments and those words when you know, just know that whatever you say, it is going to be wrong.
Your action or inaction is going to get you into trouble. Whatever you say or don't say is like digging a hole and jumping feet first into it.
I have several of those moments this morning.
Firstly I am meant to write words of his choosing on me every day, and for sometime I have not. A circumstance changed and he didn't say anything and so neither did I. As the weeks have gone by, I just thought he had forgotten, changed his mind or lost interest in me doing it, which is fine by me.
Not that I am particularly bothered about doing it, sometimes it makes me all mushy inside, but he has talked about having it tattooed onto me, just under each nipple, and I just hate the idea of a tattoo.
Its just one of those things I have a real aversion to and he knows that, and I suppose somewhere deep in my slavey brain that's what it feels like. so I haven't done it.
Today he asked me to show him my nipples, which I did think was a little strange, as he sees them all the time, and it was only a little later that I realised what he was angling at.......and my heart sank. He asked me why I thought that I was in a position to make a decision regarding what marks I do or do not have on me......................what could I say? Nothing, nothing at all. whatever I said would make it worse.
He was then on a roll, every thing he could think of, he did say it was partly his fault, as he hadn't picked me up on the little slips, sometimes hoping that I would notice myself, but anyway, he was not a happy owner.
He then asked me if I wasn't sure of the rules any more, if I needed him to go over them again........this was the big one.
I know I am allowed to ask for clarification, politely, but I am allowed to ask.
So now what do I do, do I say yes or do I say no?
If i said no and then forgot one or misinterpreted it because I had forgotten it in in entirety then I would be in trouble for not using my brain and asking.
If I said yes, then the implication being that I hadn't been paying attention, and I had forgotten something he had told me.
As I said 'Yes please". I knew it was the wrong answer, but so would "No thank you" have been too.
His reply?
"After all this time, you need a reminder?
Tonight I am to get reminders of each and every rule.
In the meantime, the sharpie pen was used to write "I am a slave, I have no choice. This slave belongs to Sir"
Your action or inaction is going to get you into trouble. Whatever you say or don't say is like digging a hole and jumping feet first into it.
I have several of those moments this morning.
Firstly I am meant to write words of his choosing on me every day, and for sometime I have not. A circumstance changed and he didn't say anything and so neither did I. As the weeks have gone by, I just thought he had forgotten, changed his mind or lost interest in me doing it, which is fine by me.
Not that I am particularly bothered about doing it, sometimes it makes me all mushy inside, but he has talked about having it tattooed onto me, just under each nipple, and I just hate the idea of a tattoo.
Its just one of those things I have a real aversion to and he knows that, and I suppose somewhere deep in my slavey brain that's what it feels like. so I haven't done it.
Today he asked me to show him my nipples, which I did think was a little strange, as he sees them all the time, and it was only a little later that I realised what he was angling at.......and my heart sank. He asked me why I thought that I was in a position to make a decision regarding what marks I do or do not have on me......................what could I say? Nothing, nothing at all. whatever I said would make it worse.
He was then on a roll, every thing he could think of, he did say it was partly his fault, as he hadn't picked me up on the little slips, sometimes hoping that I would notice myself, but anyway, he was not a happy owner.
He then asked me if I wasn't sure of the rules any more, if I needed him to go over them again........this was the big one.
I know I am allowed to ask for clarification, politely, but I am allowed to ask.
So now what do I do, do I say yes or do I say no?
If i said no and then forgot one or misinterpreted it because I had forgotten it in in entirety then I would be in trouble for not using my brain and asking.
If I said yes, then the implication being that I hadn't been paying attention, and I had forgotten something he had told me.
As I said 'Yes please". I knew it was the wrong answer, but so would "No thank you" have been too.
His reply?
"After all this time, you need a reminder?
Tonight I am to get reminders of each and every rule.
In the meantime, the sharpie pen was used to write "I am a slave, I have no choice. This slave belongs to Sir"
Tuesday, 28 December 2010
How to amuse yourself with your slave
This morning he had a little play...nothing serious he said....I think there was nothing on the television and so I was his amusement for a few hours.......I guess that's what happens when you are someones toy to play with as they see fit.
Instructions on how to pass a few hours:
First take slave and put pegs on cunt and mouth lips.
Give slave a gentle tongue lashing in the knowledge she cant say anything back.
Make slave do exercises so you can watch her tits wobble and fly around trying to defy gravity.
Insert toy into slave and repeat above, not allowing toy to escape.
Make slave beg to cum with lips pegged.
Make cup of tea and leave slave face down on floor ...squirming.
Make slave beg to cum.
Deny slave permission.
Make slave kneel up and tell her to cross legs and watch her fall over.
Watch slave squirm with frustration.
Refuse permission
Watch slave shamefacedly try to apologise with lips pegged together for cumming without permission.
Leave slave on floor, face down with toy still in.
Tell slave to stand up, close eyes, turn three times one way and three times other way, and then make slave cum.
Tell slave she can take pegs off, then say only two, watch slaves face fall as she decides which two.
Tell slave she is to explain how she feels whilst lips are still pegged together.
Make another cup of tea, leaving slave face down AGAIN.
Return to slave, tell her she may speak and watch her struggle to decide if that means taking off pegs.
Warn slave if she takes off pegs and she says anything rude, she WILL wear them all day.
Smile at slave and say "Good girl".
Tell her a good programme is on the television now and she is to be quiet until you are ready.
Return one hour later, if slave is huffing and puffing with frustration ...well done.
Instructions on how to pass a few hours:
First take slave and put pegs on cunt and mouth lips.
Give slave a gentle tongue lashing in the knowledge she cant say anything back.
Make slave do exercises so you can watch her tits wobble and fly around trying to defy gravity.
Insert toy into slave and repeat above, not allowing toy to escape.
Make slave beg to cum with lips pegged.
Make cup of tea and leave slave face down on floor ...squirming.
Make slave beg to cum.
Deny slave permission.
Make slave kneel up and tell her to cross legs and watch her fall over.
Watch slave squirm with frustration.
Refuse permission
Watch slave shamefacedly try to apologise with lips pegged together for cumming without permission.
Leave slave on floor, face down with toy still in.
Tell slave to stand up, close eyes, turn three times one way and three times other way, and then make slave cum.
Tell slave she can take pegs off, then say only two, watch slaves face fall as she decides which two.
Tell slave she is to explain how she feels whilst lips are still pegged together.
Make another cup of tea, leaving slave face down AGAIN.
Return to slave, tell her she may speak and watch her struggle to decide if that means taking off pegs.
Warn slave if she takes off pegs and she says anything rude, she WILL wear them all day.
Smile at slave and say "Good girl".
Tell her a good programme is on the television now and she is to be quiet until you are ready.
Return one hour later, if slave is huffing and puffing with frustration ...well done.
Monday, 27 December 2010
Which page of the Owner's Handbook is this one on?
I think that his powers of ESP are on overload................how did he know I was complaining about him being unreasonable, just how does he do it?
Some part of my argument about the unreliability of Internet and the vagaries of my phone seems to have got through to him.
He seems to have grasped it......without me becoming bratty and shouting and stomping and complaining about my lot.
So his solution is............................I have five minutes to log in every hour, from the o'clock to five past, to see if he is there, if he has left me a message or ...whatever.......
Sometimes I just wonder where they get these plans from...is there some secret "Owner's Handbook", where they can look up more and more fiendish things to do, more warped mind activities to carry out ....just to remind us who is in control ?
Or is it a prerequisite of every owner to have this mind set............?
I'm not complaining ...honest I'm not, its better than being in trouble.
Sunday, 26 December 2010
my act of defience (see previous post)
Tonight for my dinner...I didn't eat food...I ate jelly babies...2 of every colour and bit the heads of each one first....yeah and I feel good....................:) Think I might be the one with its head in it hands though, maybe the sugar rush is getting to me.
Eating jelly babies, the height of my defiance.........................How perspective changes.
Note to self: Do not email/ text or call owner at present, wait until silly head has been replaced with normal slave head....mmmmmm jelly babies....step away from the jelly babies
Eating jelly babies, the height of my defiance.........................How perspective changes.
Note to self: Do not email/ text or call owner at present, wait until silly head has been replaced with normal slave head....mmmmmm jelly babies....step away from the jelly babies
Biting my tongue at unreasonable expectations
Sometimes being apart makes life very difficult, and for some reason either he fails to, or chooses not to understand that I cannot be online all the time, and that my computer/phone doesn't do a song and dance every time he logs on, especially when he is online and not visible.
However I think my extra sensory powers of prediction are meant to be able to predict it...........and they don't.
I want to tell him he is being unreasonable, that I cant always be there for him to talk to when he wants. But he knows this anyway.
I want to tell him he is being VERY unreasonable.......but I cant.
I have and he says, yes that its true, but he still sends me messages about not being online.
I want to SCREAM....................... but I wont.
I will bite my tongue.
I will sulk.
I will fume inside.
I will have to tell him in the end.............something he already knows.
I know he is just making a point.
That I am unavailable because he has allowed me to be unavailable.
I still want to scream and stamp my feet at the unfairness of his comments.
However I think my extra sensory powers of prediction are meant to be able to predict it...........and they don't.
I want to tell him he is being unreasonable, that I cant always be there for him to talk to when he wants. But he knows this anyway.
I want to tell him he is being VERY unreasonable.......but I cant.
I have and he says, yes that its true, but he still sends me messages about not being online.
I want to SCREAM....................... but I wont.
I will bite my tongue.
I will sulk.
I will fume inside.
I will have to tell him in the end.............something he already knows.
I know he is just making a point.
That I am unavailable because he has allowed me to be unavailable.
I still want to scream and stamp my feet at the unfairness of his comments.
Friday, 24 December 2010
His hands are big.
His hands are big.
The gentle caress as he strokes my hair, teasing his finger through it, untangling the knots of my sweat dampened hair. Twisting his fingers through my hair and closing his hand, slowly pulling my head back until my throat is exposed. Pulling me by my hair, as I scramble behind him on my knees across the room to be pushed into the corner, or pulled up to suck his cock. His hand on the back of my head, fingers entwined in the hairs at the nape of my neck, forcing him deeper down my throat, my hair covered in cum.
His hand cupping my breasts, gently circling them, stroking, making me squirm with delight. Fingers playing with my nipples, rolling them between finger and thumb, gently teasing and pulling, tracing the shapes of my nipple, then squeezing, cruelly twisting and pulling; bringing tears to my eyes and sobs catching in the back of my throat as the pressure increases. Flicking my tender nipples, slapping, twisting and squeezing my breasts, punching, bruising and scratching.
Gentle erotic finger, teasing the lips of my cunt, exploring opening the folds and finding that spot that brings me to the point of explosion, pulling away, knowing just what to do till I am shaking and begging for permission.. Fingers forced inside, one after the other, pounding and digging, scratching, pulling until I want to retreat away from them ,hurting and demanding
The lightest of touch on my face with his fingers, tracing the shape of my lips, running over my eyes lashes, the base of my throat. The suddenness of the slap, stinging and burning, the shock of the noise as his hand moves past my ears and connects with my face. His fingers forced into my mouth, examining me, pulling my mouth wider , pushing down my throat, or wet from my cunt demanding to be cleaned.
His finger running with the touch of the softest feather down my spine, teasing the shape of my buttocks, to the base of my spine, his hand stroking my back. The first slap, hot and sudden, followed by more and more, a pattern building ,faster and faster, harder and harder, each cheek wanting more, my inability to prevent the need to lift up and meet his hand, until the slaps become interspersed with a fist striking my cheeks, the tempo changing. The floating away on the pain, the submissiveness it fills me with, the humiliation I feel as he tells me why he has to do this to me.
Fingers travelling down from my jaw, making me purr with pleasure, rubbing my tired neck, easing the troubles of the day away.Gently stroking, relaxing. The gradual increased pressure on my throat. My eyes drawn to his face as the pressure increases, feeling each individual finger as it closes, tighter and tighter, restricting the air as I begin to drift away, filled with peace and trust.
The gentle big hands cupping my face, moving my damp hair from my face, the fingers wiping away my tears, hands wiping my face with a cool flannel, rubbing in cream and tending to cuts, loving, reassuring hands.
One hand on me as I fall asleep beside him, the other, holding the end of my rope.
His hands are big
The gentle caress as he strokes my hair, teasing his finger through it, untangling the knots of my sweat dampened hair. Twisting his fingers through my hair and closing his hand, slowly pulling my head back until my throat is exposed. Pulling me by my hair, as I scramble behind him on my knees across the room to be pushed into the corner, or pulled up to suck his cock. His hand on the back of my head, fingers entwined in the hairs at the nape of my neck, forcing him deeper down my throat, my hair covered in cum.
His hand cupping my breasts, gently circling them, stroking, making me squirm with delight. Fingers playing with my nipples, rolling them between finger and thumb, gently teasing and pulling, tracing the shapes of my nipple, then squeezing, cruelly twisting and pulling; bringing tears to my eyes and sobs catching in the back of my throat as the pressure increases. Flicking my tender nipples, slapping, twisting and squeezing my breasts, punching, bruising and scratching.
Gentle erotic finger, teasing the lips of my cunt, exploring opening the folds and finding that spot that brings me to the point of explosion, pulling away, knowing just what to do till I am shaking and begging for permission.. Fingers forced inside, one after the other, pounding and digging, scratching, pulling until I want to retreat away from them ,hurting and demanding
The lightest of touch on my face with his fingers, tracing the shape of my lips, running over my eyes lashes, the base of my throat. The suddenness of the slap, stinging and burning, the shock of the noise as his hand moves past my ears and connects with my face. His fingers forced into my mouth, examining me, pulling my mouth wider , pushing down my throat, or wet from my cunt demanding to be cleaned.
His finger running with the touch of the softest feather down my spine, teasing the shape of my buttocks, to the base of my spine, his hand stroking my back. The first slap, hot and sudden, followed by more and more, a pattern building ,faster and faster, harder and harder, each cheek wanting more, my inability to prevent the need to lift up and meet his hand, until the slaps become interspersed with a fist striking my cheeks, the tempo changing. The floating away on the pain, the submissiveness it fills me with, the humiliation I feel as he tells me why he has to do this to me.
Fingers travelling down from my jaw, making me purr with pleasure, rubbing my tired neck, easing the troubles of the day away.Gently stroking, relaxing. The gradual increased pressure on my throat. My eyes drawn to his face as the pressure increases, feeling each individual finger as it closes, tighter and tighter, restricting the air as I begin to drift away, filled with peace and trust.
The gentle big hands cupping my face, moving my damp hair from my face, the fingers wiping away my tears, hands wiping my face with a cool flannel, rubbing in cream and tending to cuts, loving, reassuring hands.
One hand on me as I fall asleep beside him, the other, holding the end of my rope.
His hands are big
Thursday, 23 December 2010
My place is face down on the floor.
This morning we were able to talk, I was able to see him.
I woke in the night and realised that he was there. I said hello, and he told me to go back to sleep and then I struggled and struggled to sleep...wanting to talk to him, wanting to hear his voice.. but he as having none of it.
I tried again, I interrupted what he was doing.............and he ignored me.
I tried once more.........and I was told to do as I had been told.
When I woke up at the proper time, I greeted him as I always do, waiting to be allowed to get up and he left me there. I didn't want to call his attention again, I knew he knew I was there and so I waited ...almost patiently.
When he was ready, we talked. We talked about the last few days where we have had little contact about what I had been doing, how I was feeling and he said I looked like I was feeling a little lost, I told him I was fine, he said I looked lost, I said I was fine.....................he was right.
We had more discussion about how I was feeling, the conclusion that he came to was that I needed reminding of my place............so still in my rope which binds my feet, no more than 4 inches apart, up my back, round my neck and my hands bound before me in a noose, I was sent to stand my the wall with the pegs on my nipples and I was to think of nothing but him, to ignore any noise, any sound I heard, any thought that entered my head I was to dispel and I was to wait.
I stood for two hours.
When he called me back I knelt before him.
I had to get the hood and place it over my head and then tie my hands behind my back.
I was instructed to lie face down on the floor, cross my legs at the ankle and to wait.
It is difficult to lie down without smacking your your head on the floor, somehow I managed it and as I lay down and felt the pegs on my nipples dig in, his voice filled my head.
"This is your place, this is where you will wait for me, you are a slave, this is your place."
And so that is it. From now on. I do not have to wait like that for him to appear, but once I am talking to him, if he tells me to wait, I will wait like that; hooded, face down, legs crossed with the pegs on my nipples pressing into me to remind me of what I am and where my place is.
Pain is a gift from him.
Sight is a gift from him.
Movement is a gift from him.
An unrestricted breath is a gift from him.
His time is a gift.
Any can be given and any can be taken away.
He knows I am there and I must wait until he is ready and if he is not ready, I must wait anyway.
Wednesday, 22 December 2010
The thoughts I had today
Today I was by myself and it was wonderful.
I do like the company of other people. I also love sitting in a room surrounded by people, or watching people at airports, watching the ebb and flow,the purpose with which people move, the expressions on their faces, the myriad of emotions on display.
I like overhearing half conversations, either because it is "half a conversation", like overhearing a phone call, or just being able to hear snatches of a whole conversation; the interplay of words, expression , intonation and questioning.
I like being able to watch people talk when I can't hear them, watching their faces their body language and how they become part of their surroundings or are completely cocooned in their own private world.
I love the fact that it is like a snapshot of people's lives, a moment frozen in time, an distorted opinion of what and who they are that often bears no relation to reality.........that's what I like about it........its like a play, with an ever changing company of characters.
But today I was by myself....in my car. Isolated in my own little world, my own little environment where I get to control the temperature, the sounds I hear and even to a great extent the sights I see.
I was in control, there was no one but me. In my car is one of the places I think, so is the shower, and my favourite place is sitting on the beach gazing out at the ocean. I like the fact that its ever changing but also entirely predictable.
So today in the think that I was thinking, I thought about the year that I have had, the year we have had. How far I have come, how he has taught me, led and guided me. The level of his patience when I close down and find it hard to be as open as he demands.
I thought about how he has let me live the life I needed to lead, how he allowed me to leave when it was needed and how he has worked so hard to find the time, against all the odds to ensure that things remain the same. I have thought how he has supported me through some difficult times this year and how I know that the support will continue.
I thought about how he seems to instinctively know what it is I need and that sometimes he just does it and other times he makes me work it out, ask for it, beg for it and then thank him when he has finished.
I though about how he has beaten me, with his hand, his fist, canes, whips, crops, anything that he thinks will be effective, how I have dreaded it and how I have longed for it with every cell in my body, how my whole body has hurt and how it has stopped my heart hurting.
I thought about how I have been bound and restrained; how there have been times when I haven't been able to move at all, how other times any movement will result in pain and discomfort. Other times I have had to ask before moving at all, and how many hours I have been at the end of his rope.
I thought of the times he has stroked my hair, allowed me to kneel at his feet, my head on his knee, how he has held me and comforted me, soothed me while I sobbed from pain, and how he has lifted me up and looked into my eyes and I have seen his happiness, his pleasure and his pride.
I thought of the times he has rammed his cock into me, forcing it down my throat till I gag and plead for breath, how he has pounded into me until I am too sore to walk, and of the pleasure he gets from it, and how he allows me to cum, how I have to cum for him and being allowed to have his cock in my mouth and the pleasure I get from that.
I thought about he times he has humiliated me, made me feel less than nothing, just a thing for his amusement, a toy for his pleasure, for him to use and hurt for his own enjoyment and I have realised that this does not make me less than nothing, it makes me what I am, his slave.
I thought about when he has quietened me with a single look, made me still with a single word.
I thought about how he has enslaved my soul, my life and my heart and by doing so has set me free
I do like the company of other people. I also love sitting in a room surrounded by people, or watching people at airports, watching the ebb and flow,the purpose with which people move, the expressions on their faces, the myriad of emotions on display.
I like overhearing half conversations, either because it is "half a conversation", like overhearing a phone call, or just being able to hear snatches of a whole conversation; the interplay of words, expression , intonation and questioning.
I like being able to watch people talk when I can't hear them, watching their faces their body language and how they become part of their surroundings or are completely cocooned in their own private world.
I love the fact that it is like a snapshot of people's lives, a moment frozen in time, an distorted opinion of what and who they are that often bears no relation to reality.........that's what I like about it........its like a play, with an ever changing company of characters.
But today I was by myself....in my car. Isolated in my own little world, my own little environment where I get to control the temperature, the sounds I hear and even to a great extent the sights I see.
I was in control, there was no one but me. In my car is one of the places I think, so is the shower, and my favourite place is sitting on the beach gazing out at the ocean. I like the fact that its ever changing but also entirely predictable.
So today in the think that I was thinking, I thought about the year that I have had, the year we have had. How far I have come, how he has taught me, led and guided me. The level of his patience when I close down and find it hard to be as open as he demands.
I thought about how he has let me live the life I needed to lead, how he allowed me to leave when it was needed and how he has worked so hard to find the time, against all the odds to ensure that things remain the same. I have thought how he has supported me through some difficult times this year and how I know that the support will continue.
I thought about how he seems to instinctively know what it is I need and that sometimes he just does it and other times he makes me work it out, ask for it, beg for it and then thank him when he has finished.
I though about how he has beaten me, with his hand, his fist, canes, whips, crops, anything that he thinks will be effective, how I have dreaded it and how I have longed for it with every cell in my body, how my whole body has hurt and how it has stopped my heart hurting.
I thought about how I have been bound and restrained; how there have been times when I haven't been able to move at all, how other times any movement will result in pain and discomfort. Other times I have had to ask before moving at all, and how many hours I have been at the end of his rope.
I thought of the times he has stroked my hair, allowed me to kneel at his feet, my head on his knee, how he has held me and comforted me, soothed me while I sobbed from pain, and how he has lifted me up and looked into my eyes and I have seen his happiness, his pleasure and his pride.
I thought of the times he has rammed his cock into me, forcing it down my throat till I gag and plead for breath, how he has pounded into me until I am too sore to walk, and of the pleasure he gets from it, and how he allows me to cum, how I have to cum for him and being allowed to have his cock in my mouth and the pleasure I get from that.
I thought about he times he has humiliated me, made me feel less than nothing, just a thing for his amusement, a toy for his pleasure, for him to use and hurt for his own enjoyment and I have realised that this does not make me less than nothing, it makes me what I am, his slave.
I thought about when he has quietened me with a single look, made me still with a single word.
I thought about how he has enslaved my soul, my life and my heart and by doing so has set me free
Tuesday, 21 December 2010
Slave disease and humbugitius
I think I may have that Christmas slave disease.......................Blahness, with symptoms of disinterest, bah humbugitius and general "is it all over yet ?" fever.
Somehow I just cant get in the mood. I have a tree, I even made a decoration I looked at some food in the shop, but then walked away thinking..........................."There are a few more days to go anyway, so if I buy it now........".
I have a few cards even, that appeared in the post in the last few days...scenes of snow and cold things. All I can think of at the moment to do on Christmas, is ................shall I swim before or after breakfast?
I am not sure that the 12 hours sleep I had yesterday have done any good, I am wiped out again. I told him that I had not done some of the things that I am meant to do each night, expecting some sympathy or a little understanding when I explained my reasons......and his reply was.....?
"And ?"
Note to self: when feeling tired, do not expect sympathy from him. I told him he was mean. His response?
"And ?"
So better hop to it then and do all the things before I crash into my bed, and when he comes on to talk to me.............hmmmmm.....
my response, in my head at least may well be.............
"And ?"
12 long hours
Twelve long blissful hours of sleep.........just what I needed........feel full of energy again.
Last night I was too tired to do some of the things I am meant to do, and now I will have to confess and will be punished for it, there are no excuses, tiredness is not an option. I could have text and asked to be excused, but I was too tired to text.....maybe he will have some Christmas spirit.
Last night I was too tired to do some of the things I am meant to do, and now I will have to confess and will be punished for it, there are no excuses, tiredness is not an option. I could have text and asked to be excused, but I was too tired to text.....maybe he will have some Christmas spirit.
Monday, 20 December 2010
That hand on my hair.
Tired, tired, tired.
Worn out, exhausted, and so far beyond tired.
This slave is going to bed early with a good book, (Reading Lolita in Tehran) and doesn't expect to read more than two pages before she falls asleep.
This slave has had a long , hard stressful day and would like nothing more than to lie near her owner, curled at his feet, with this hand on her hair, but she is much more likely to have to suck his cock, be used, abused , humiliated, and tend to his needs first.........so.......................on this occasion is actually quite relieved with the seven thousand mile separation tonight...............oh but I do miss that hand on my hair.....on my skin...on my.........
Worn out, exhausted, and so far beyond tired.
This slave is going to bed early with a good book, (Reading Lolita in Tehran) and doesn't expect to read more than two pages before she falls asleep.
This slave has had a long , hard stressful day and would like nothing more than to lie near her owner, curled at his feet, with this hand on her hair, but she is much more likely to have to suck his cock, be used, abused , humiliated, and tend to his needs first.........so.......................on this occasion is actually quite relieved with the seven thousand mile separation tonight...............oh but I do miss that hand on my hair.....on my skin...on my.........
Sunday, 19 December 2010
How do you do this whole thing anyway?
When you have managed things, your life, your emotions by yourself for a long time. When you have had to deal with things on your own, or compartmentalised your life and shared different bits with different people, but never all of the truth to anyone.
When you look back and realise from an early age you lived your life like a MI5 spy. Not the lying and deception, the manipulation, but just running your life like a spy ring, having mental "Dead letter boxes" and small groups of just interconnecting friends and large groups of acquaintances and one or two people that you trust completely...openness its a challenge.
All of these things make you into the person you are. I remember being told as a child I was secretive; not sneaky, secretive, and as a teenager, and as an adult.
It used to irritate me to be called that. This was for two reasons, firstly, I'm not by nature and secondly, all you had to do was ask the right question at the right time and I would have told anything.
I would have opened my heart up and told you anything and everything But nobody ever really did when I was younger. I don't know if no body ever really bothered or they tried, and got little response, so didn't bother again.
My grandfather and I were sharers of secrets; how to plants seeds, where the sweets were hidden in the kitchen. How to 'read" clouds to tell if it was going to rain, how to calm a frightened dog, the best walk trough the woods to see the first bluebells in spring...all those were the best of secrets, but when you are five or so, these are important things...
I realised recently that the reason I said nothing to anyone else, wasn't that I was hiding some big dark secret inside, I wasn't.....I just had got to the point where I really thought no one would be that interested anyway, there wasn't a lot to tell.........so on the odd occasion anyone asked, I just didn't say much.
The only person who asked was my mother and I have come very recently to the scary understanding that she wanted to know because she is just damn nosey and likes no one to have any privacy.
It wasn't a wish to understand me and know how I was feeling, just nosiness.
My whole adult life I have managed to keep things inside me. On the surface people will see the person they think I am. I am not being deceitful or untrue, just operating by that inbuilt, and "over the years" learned behaviour...............if you don't expose yourself no one will come and stamp all over your feeling and destroy you.................except anyone past 20 knows that its not an easy way to go through life and it doesn't work anyway.
At this point I had put some other stuff in here and then deleted it because I felt it said too much............and now I don't know whether to laugh or cry about it..............but it stays deleted.
So when my owner goes on about openness he is fighting years and years of a well learned and managed habit. I think I could never get a job at wiki leaks.
So yesterday when I was in trouble again for failing to tell him something he couldn't understand why I hadn't told him. I wasn't being secretive, I wasn't not telling him stuff, I just didn't think that it was important enough to register.............and this juicy bit of information that has got me into trouble?
A job offer..............not one on a piece of paper with a job description and a mention of a salary, not one outlining all the benefits and the risk assessment..........no its a job offer of a leaving colleague"if you want t a job in ***********, just call me, there will always be a job for you" sort of job offer.
Well...................very kind of you, thank you, but I don't want a job in ************, too dangerous.
So I had smiled and said, thank you, and not registered it as anything other than that.
THEN, last night when talking I jokingly said something about "When when you throw me out, when I am old, at least I will be able to go to work in ************* as I have a job offer".
You could have heard a pin drop.
I begged him not to be cross..........tried to explain the nature of the offer etc etc
nine thousand questions later, I was sent to bed with the "We''ll talk about this later".
I wish he could see I wasn't hiding anything, I wasn't being secretive, or not opening up...................its just that it wasn't important enough to register or mention and ................
Oh whats the point....................
I will never get this openness bit right.
When you look back and realise from an early age you lived your life like a MI5 spy. Not the lying and deception, the manipulation, but just running your life like a spy ring, having mental "Dead letter boxes" and small groups of just interconnecting friends and large groups of acquaintances and one or two people that you trust completely...openness its a challenge.
All of these things make you into the person you are. I remember being told as a child I was secretive; not sneaky, secretive, and as a teenager, and as an adult.
It used to irritate me to be called that. This was for two reasons, firstly, I'm not by nature and secondly, all you had to do was ask the right question at the right time and I would have told anything.
I would have opened my heart up and told you anything and everything But nobody ever really did when I was younger. I don't know if no body ever really bothered or they tried, and got little response, so didn't bother again.
My grandfather and I were sharers of secrets; how to plants seeds, where the sweets were hidden in the kitchen. How to 'read" clouds to tell if it was going to rain, how to calm a frightened dog, the best walk trough the woods to see the first bluebells in spring...all those were the best of secrets, but when you are five or so, these are important things...
I realised recently that the reason I said nothing to anyone else, wasn't that I was hiding some big dark secret inside, I wasn't.....I just had got to the point where I really thought no one would be that interested anyway, there wasn't a lot to tell.........so on the odd occasion anyone asked, I just didn't say much.
The only person who asked was my mother and I have come very recently to the scary understanding that she wanted to know because she is just damn nosey and likes no one to have any privacy.
It wasn't a wish to understand me and know how I was feeling, just nosiness.
My whole adult life I have managed to keep things inside me. On the surface people will see the person they think I am. I am not being deceitful or untrue, just operating by that inbuilt, and "over the years" learned behaviour...............if you don't expose yourself no one will come and stamp all over your feeling and destroy you.................except anyone past 20 knows that its not an easy way to go through life and it doesn't work anyway.
At this point I had put some other stuff in here and then deleted it because I felt it said too much............and now I don't know whether to laugh or cry about it..............but it stays deleted.
So when my owner goes on about openness he is fighting years and years of a well learned and managed habit. I think I could never get a job at wiki leaks.
So yesterday when I was in trouble again for failing to tell him something he couldn't understand why I hadn't told him. I wasn't being secretive, I wasn't not telling him stuff, I just didn't think that it was important enough to register.............and this juicy bit of information that has got me into trouble?
A job offer..............not one on a piece of paper with a job description and a mention of a salary, not one outlining all the benefits and the risk assessment..........no its a job offer of a leaving colleague"if you want t a job in ***********, just call me, there will always be a job for you" sort of job offer.
Well...................very kind of you, thank you, but I don't want a job in ************, too dangerous.
So I had smiled and said, thank you, and not registered it as anything other than that.
THEN, last night when talking I jokingly said something about "When when you throw me out, when I am old, at least I will be able to go to work in ************* as I have a job offer".
You could have heard a pin drop.
I begged him not to be cross..........tried to explain the nature of the offer etc etc
nine thousand questions later, I was sent to bed with the "We''ll talk about this later".
I wish he could see I wasn't hiding anything, I wasn't being secretive, or not opening up...................its just that it wasn't important enough to register or mention and ................
Oh whats the point....................
I will never get this openness bit right.
Saturday, 18 December 2010
My aching heart
This morning we were talking, about Christmas and all things cold, about dresses that he likes me to wear, about when he took me to a casino and left me there playing on a machine and how there were several men wanting to talk to me, and how polite I was to them, flirting yet behaving.
He talked about how he watched me proudly, and enjoyed watching me because he knew I was his and would be going home with him.. How all he had to do was catch my eye and I would walk to his side.
He was saying nice things to me, kind, loving things.
He told me to lie down and put the cam on my face, so he could watch me as I made my self cum. He asked me to remember the last time we were together and touch myself like he touched me.
And I couldn't.
I just couldn't do it.
The tears started.
I wiped them away with the back of my hand, hoping he hadn't seen.
I tried again, thinking about how he had laid me on the bed and instructed me to open myself for his inspection.
And the tears returned.
I just couldn't stop them.
It wasn't that I didn't want to do what he said, I was just so overwhelmingly sad. I miss him so much.
I couldn't bear it.
I turned away from him.
He called my name, asked what was wrong.
I couldn't say.
I had no words to explain how desolate I felt at that moment, and so I just looked at him, it was all I could do.
"Oh my slave. it is not for ever, you jut have to be brave. You are mine now and forever".
He talked..................And it felt like he had lifted my heart and wrapped his hands gently round it, caressing it, soothing my aching soul.
And he spoke loving kind words to me. I do not know what they were, but the thousands of miles drifted closer and closer until I felt we were as one.
And I fell asleep, as if I were in his arms.
My heart still aches for him.............
He talked about how he watched me proudly, and enjoyed watching me because he knew I was his and would be going home with him.. How all he had to do was catch my eye and I would walk to his side.
He was saying nice things to me, kind, loving things.
He told me to lie down and put the cam on my face, so he could watch me as I made my self cum. He asked me to remember the last time we were together and touch myself like he touched me.
And I couldn't.
I just couldn't do it.
The tears started.
I wiped them away with the back of my hand, hoping he hadn't seen.
I tried again, thinking about how he had laid me on the bed and instructed me to open myself for his inspection.
And the tears returned.
I just couldn't stop them.
It wasn't that I didn't want to do what he said, I was just so overwhelmingly sad. I miss him so much.
I couldn't bear it.
I turned away from him.
He called my name, asked what was wrong.
I couldn't say.
I had no words to explain how desolate I felt at that moment, and so I just looked at him, it was all I could do.
"Oh my slave. it is not for ever, you jut have to be brave. You are mine now and forever".
He talked..................And it felt like he had lifted my heart and wrapped his hands gently round it, caressing it, soothing my aching soul.
And he spoke loving kind words to me. I do not know what they were, but the thousands of miles drifted closer and closer until I felt we were as one.
And I fell asleep, as if I were in his arms.
My heart still aches for him.............
Friday, 17 December 2010
I must send him a good book
I think a lunch hour is a dangerous thing..............
I was happily chatting away about what a lovely day I had had, doing the things he said I could, telling him how much I had enjoyed it,when he said
"Cane and hood"
I almost leaped out of my skin.
"You will put on the hood, and use one hand to cum and the other hand to hold the cane and use it on your tits"
Oh I pulled a face, not a big one, just a small,"ouch that's going to be difficult one".
"I saw that, if I see a face like that again, I will do a lot more".
And so as I pulled the hood over my head, I began to hate his plan, his spare time, doesn't he have work to do?
It is difficult to cane your own tits at the best of times, but whilst having to cum too. I've never been able to play the piano, two hands doing different things at the same time.
I was allowed to stop and remove the hood when I had cum.
Well normally...........................he has got me so well trained that I can cum quickly, not to order, but quickly. But today...........not easy, it was frustrating, and I could hear him chuckling, enjoying himself.
And finally, on my knees, with the hood over my head, the cane striking my tits again and again, catching my nipple bars, making me wince and squirm, my fingers desperately working on my cunt to bring my self to that leg shaking point of pleasure...I came.
I knelt there, catching my breath, removed the hood.
"Get ready for bed".
I crawled into bed,
I must buy him a good book; one with a gripping storyline, for those spare moments, when he needs distracting, relaxing , to take his mind off things,so he doesn't think..".hmmmmmmmmm, I'll just get the cane and..........".
Any suggestions?
I was happily chatting away about what a lovely day I had had, doing the things he said I could, telling him how much I had enjoyed it,when he said
"Cane and hood"
I almost leaped out of my skin.
"You will put on the hood, and use one hand to cum and the other hand to hold the cane and use it on your tits"
Oh I pulled a face, not a big one, just a small,"ouch that's going to be difficult one".
"I saw that, if I see a face like that again, I will do a lot more".
And so as I pulled the hood over my head, I began to hate his plan, his spare time, doesn't he have work to do?
It is difficult to cane your own tits at the best of times, but whilst having to cum too. I've never been able to play the piano, two hands doing different things at the same time.
I was allowed to stop and remove the hood when I had cum.
Well normally...........................he has got me so well trained that I can cum quickly, not to order, but quickly. But today...........not easy, it was frustrating, and I could hear him chuckling, enjoying himself.
And finally, on my knees, with the hood over my head, the cane striking my tits again and again, catching my nipple bars, making me wince and squirm, my fingers desperately working on my cunt to bring my self to that leg shaking point of pleasure...I came.
I knelt there, catching my breath, removed the hood.
"Get ready for bed".
I crawled into bed,
I must buy him a good book; one with a gripping storyline, for those spare moments, when he needs distracting, relaxing , to take his mind off things,so he doesn't think..".hmmmmmmmmm, I'll just get the cane and..........".
Any suggestions?
A day filled with happiness.
Today was a happy day.......filled with laughter, sunshine and happiness...........................and now I get to talk to him tonight and tomorrow.................happiness is easy to achieve when everything I am, everything I am allowed to have and everything I am allowed to do is a gift from my owner.
Thursday, 16 December 2010
I love my rope
I spoke to him last night, but it was just a quick go to bed early, have a long sleep and talk in the morning.....oh and don't forget the rope.
I have missed my rope, silly though it is, one short length of rope, just a plain one; not too soft and not too rough, just a rope.
At one end of the rope is a noose.
Each night I have to hang my rope so the end of the noose is just level with my nipples and then loop it once around my neck, not a whole 360, but 180.
As I drop it down behind me, I feel it fall against my bare ass, and land in a tangle on the upturned soles of my feet.
I carefully untangle it and slide it under my ankles, without letting the other end move, then around again. Holding it in place I sit on the floor and begin to wrap it around my ankles in a figure of eight, securing it, so there is a gap between my feet, but no more than will allow me to hobble.
I must then make sure that I am ready for bed, that everything is done, that the light is down low, that the computer is on and that the web cam is positioned correctly and on. When I am sure everything is done as per his instructions, I must put my hands in the noose and tighten it until my hands are firmly together, in front of me, positioned just between my breasts
Sometimes I am allowed to watch a DVD, but mostly I have to sleep. He thinks I don't sleep enough, he thinks I wake up too much, too early.
I have nightmares, I always have, ever since I can remember. I still remember some of them from my childhood...scary scary nightmares...some of them make sense, most of them don't.
If he is there when I am sent to sleep I fall asleep in minutes, if he is not, it takes longer.
I don't fight my rope any more, I love my rope. I sleep mostly peacefully.
When I am away and can't have it, I feel naked.........I need to to feel my owner tug the rope, to feel his hands wrap it round my ankles, to watch his fingers slide the noose tighter around my wrists ....oh please................ be soon.
I have missed my rope, silly though it is, one short length of rope, just a plain one; not too soft and not too rough, just a rope.
At one end of the rope is a noose.
Each night I have to hang my rope so the end of the noose is just level with my nipples and then loop it once around my neck, not a whole 360, but 180.
As I drop it down behind me, I feel it fall against my bare ass, and land in a tangle on the upturned soles of my feet.
I carefully untangle it and slide it under my ankles, without letting the other end move, then around again. Holding it in place I sit on the floor and begin to wrap it around my ankles in a figure of eight, securing it, so there is a gap between my feet, but no more than will allow me to hobble.
I must then make sure that I am ready for bed, that everything is done, that the light is down low, that the computer is on and that the web cam is positioned correctly and on. When I am sure everything is done as per his instructions, I must put my hands in the noose and tighten it until my hands are firmly together, in front of me, positioned just between my breasts
Sometimes I am allowed to watch a DVD, but mostly I have to sleep. He thinks I don't sleep enough, he thinks I wake up too much, too early.
I have nightmares, I always have, ever since I can remember. I still remember some of them from my childhood...scary scary nightmares...some of them make sense, most of them don't.
If he is there when I am sent to sleep I fall asleep in minutes, if he is not, it takes longer.
I don't fight my rope any more, I love my rope. I sleep mostly peacefully.
When I am away and can't have it, I feel naked.........I need to to feel my owner tug the rope, to feel his hands wrap it round my ankles, to watch his fingers slide the noose tighter around my wrists ....oh please................ be soon.
Wednesday, 15 December 2010
I saw a "kick ass' snake the other day.
And
If I had been stupid enough to lay down next to it.........................it would have been longer.
ergh!
BTW: I didnt take the photo, hard to when your backing off at 90kph....but it looked like this...only awake.
BTW: I didnt take the photo, hard to when your backing off at 90kph....but it looked like this...only awake.
I have been away again, and snatched conversations, lost calls, half sentences, feeling lost and needing my owner more than ever....I am so glad to be back again and no longer incommunicado.
Oh AND
I am so surprised....I know in the greater blog scheme of things its not a lot.....but I have had over 1000 hits...wow...so thank you to all of you who have stopped by...you are very welcome.
Saturday, 11 December 2010
I hate magnolia walls
I stopped waiting.
The sound of him signing in to the computer made me jump as I sat there waiting. His typed "Hello" gave nothing away. His inquiry into my day was polite and formal, therefore, so was my answer.
He then started to probe into my brain like he does.
Why had I been behaving the way I had?
Why had I thought it would be ok if didn't do what I was meant to?
How could I forget to do something so embedded into my life, it should be as part of my day without conscious thought?
Why had I once again, got to a point,when he had had to ask what was wrong ,rather than me telling him?
At which point half of me wanted to slink under the floorboards with that gut wrenching feeling that you get when you know you have let your owner down, the one that makes everything wince and each word seems to lash at your heart and soul.................
But the other half of me wanted to shout"well I cant tell you how I am feeling if you are not here, if you talk for five minutes and send me to bed, how can I tell you anything if you are too busy to talk, if you are awake when I am asleep and asleep when I am awake, if you keep making me sleep?"
Which of course is not true at all, because all I had to do was send him an email telling him.....that was all and he would have done something............instead I let how I was feeling eat away inside me, till I felt like he was pulling away, till I felt that our connection was flickering like a unshaded light bulb in an empty house......................all I had to do was send an email.
So i didn't shout or scream or stamp my foot and complain about how I hate being away from him, or how hard it is, how much I miss him, or any of that.
I knelt and let his words wash over me, soothing me, caressing my heart.
And then he reminded me that I am for now and for ever his slave, his property to which he can do anything with, no matter how far away I am, or how disconnected I feel, how much I think something else is important, he is always the most important thing on my list.
He told me to get the red rope from the bag he gave me when I left. It feels smooth in my hands, sometimes I run it through my fingers when I am talking to him. I was instructed to tie knots along its length, 10cm apart , all the the way along, and then to make a rope bra, as tight as i could, to kneel and wait for him.
I saw him smile before he logged off, and my hands began to shake slightly as I tied the knots. Did I have to tie them 10 cm apart or should they be 10cm apart when there were tied? There is a difference. I tried to remember what he had said, and thought.....this is what he means about paying attention, about focusing on what he says, not half listening. I decided that it was 10 cm between the knots and so I began to tie them all. It is hard to be certain they were 10cm apart but I guessed as best I could and then began to make the rope bra.
Pulling it tightly round my breasts, leaning into it and pulling feeling the knots beginning to dig in, knowing that if it was not tight enough for him then I would have to do it again. I know I can never do any of the rope work like he does, but I did try my hardest and when I was finally pleased with the results I knelt still, and waited for him.
He returned after about 10 more minutes with a cup of tea, and I had to show him every inch of the rope, he examined it closely, and then checked my slowly darkening breasts, admiring the tightness of the skin, the straining of my nipples against the bars he inserted before I left.
The four pegs were placed on me, one of each nipple, one I couldn't feel and one bit into me like the teeth of a doberman on crack. He smiled as I winced, he smiled as I wriggled to get comfortable with the pegs on my cunt.
And then I was sent to the wall to think about my behaviour.
I know I am not allowed to move when I am at the wall, I know it is important that I am comfortable when I get there so I remain still. Sometimes I close my eyes and rest my head against the cool of the wall, letting it fill my head.and I drift off.
"Open your eyes"
Io i stared at the magnolia paint, slowly at first the minutes ticked by, I can tell how long I am there by the number of cycles the air con goes through. I can tell, if I count seconds.
"Turn the air con off and stop counting"
Damn how does he know..................so I crawled across the room and got the air con control and turned it off. I faced the wall and stared at the magnolia paint.1 ....2....3....
"no counting and NO 13 times tables"
so I ran through a few lists in my head......................jobs to do, shopping to get, paperwork to fill
and when I had nothing left to think about ...........
I began to do as i was told.
I could feel the rope digging into me, ,the knots felt hot, like smouldering coals.........I felt hot.
and as my mind emptied, I did do as I was told, and I did think of him and what I should have done how I should have behaved, where I had let things slip.
and again I was sad. sad I had let him down
Sad I had not spoken up about how I was feeling
And all the feelings that had begun to grow in me filled me, and poured from me as I began to cry.
He left me there staring at the magnolia paint until I was calmer, until my sobs had stopped, until my breathing returned to normal until I was still.
Once more I was still.................and he called me.
I returned to him and knelt before him waiting for him to speak to me. I looked at the little clock on the side of the screen..........................more than an hour had passed since he first put me to the wall......I was surprised.
I cant really remember what he talked about exactly, I cant recall the words he used, but it was about control, about use and limits and his pleasure and my role in life. About being open , about trust.
I remember him saying that he can do whatever he likes to me
" Do 50 star jumps, 50 press ups and 50 sit ups, you have 5 minutes, if it takes you longer you will do it all again, and you will keep doing it until you do it in the time:"
The ropes and the knots in the rope bit into my skin, like sharp hot knives twisting and rubbing against the soft skin under my breasts, the tightness of the rope against my swollen breast brought tears to my eyes, the pressure of gravity dragged on them making them feel heavy beyond belief , but I struggled , worked had and when I had finished I knelt as instructed with my legs closed tightly against the cunt pegs. tears filling my eyes, my chest heaving.
"Good girl".
I smiled at him, and he smiled back.
"Get your toy, and put it in, put the cam on your cunt and make yourself cum"
The mixture of pain and pleasure. Pain from the pegs and pleasure from the toy.........confused me, sent me spiraling away into some dark corner of my soul...........I tried to ask for permission to cum, I really did, the words were in my head. I am sure I sent the message to my lips, but nothing came out. and so as I came, without permission I was filled with pain, pleasure and slight uncertainty as to his reaction.
I lay on the bed, hot and sweaty, sore, bruised, a dripping cunt and a dreamy smile on my face.
"Undo the rope".
I started to undo the rope but I couldn't find the end. I began to panic, and then I lost the Internet connection.
I felt the panic rising in me , I searched , pulling at different bits, trying to find it, but I couldn't. I tried to calm myself, tried to breath, panic rising...............and then he came back.
Hearing his voice"Stop"
He began to talk to me like a child, like someone who has been lost; who is frightened. And following his instructions. I undid the rope.
He allowed me a drink, told me to eat a biscuit and told me to lie down.
And as I lay there, he told me how proud he was of me, how I am a good slave, how I do whatever he asks me, how he understands how hard it is for me, how he misses me and cant wait for me to be back at his feet, on the end of my rope, and how much I please him.
he told me to close my eyes...........................
Hours later when I woke up, he was still there, watching me, and again he told me to
"sleep my sweet slave" and I did.
Each ache soothed by knowing he was there.
I am his slave, my heart and soul and calm once more
.
.
The sound of him signing in to the computer made me jump as I sat there waiting. His typed "Hello" gave nothing away. His inquiry into my day was polite and formal, therefore, so was my answer.
He then started to probe into my brain like he does.
Why had I been behaving the way I had?
Why had I thought it would be ok if didn't do what I was meant to?
How could I forget to do something so embedded into my life, it should be as part of my day without conscious thought?
Why had I once again, got to a point,when he had had to ask what was wrong ,rather than me telling him?
At which point half of me wanted to slink under the floorboards with that gut wrenching feeling that you get when you know you have let your owner down, the one that makes everything wince and each word seems to lash at your heart and soul.................
But the other half of me wanted to shout"well I cant tell you how I am feeling if you are not here, if you talk for five minutes and send me to bed, how can I tell you anything if you are too busy to talk, if you are awake when I am asleep and asleep when I am awake, if you keep making me sleep?"
Which of course is not true at all, because all I had to do was send him an email telling him.....that was all and he would have done something............instead I let how I was feeling eat away inside me, till I felt like he was pulling away, till I felt that our connection was flickering like a unshaded light bulb in an empty house......................all I had to do was send an email.
So i didn't shout or scream or stamp my foot and complain about how I hate being away from him, or how hard it is, how much I miss him, or any of that.
I knelt and let his words wash over me, soothing me, caressing my heart.
And then he reminded me that I am for now and for ever his slave, his property to which he can do anything with, no matter how far away I am, or how disconnected I feel, how much I think something else is important, he is always the most important thing on my list.
He told me to get the red rope from the bag he gave me when I left. It feels smooth in my hands, sometimes I run it through my fingers when I am talking to him. I was instructed to tie knots along its length, 10cm apart , all the the way along, and then to make a rope bra, as tight as i could, to kneel and wait for him.
I saw him smile before he logged off, and my hands began to shake slightly as I tied the knots. Did I have to tie them 10 cm apart or should they be 10cm apart when there were tied? There is a difference. I tried to remember what he had said, and thought.....this is what he means about paying attention, about focusing on what he says, not half listening. I decided that it was 10 cm between the knots and so I began to tie them all. It is hard to be certain they were 10cm apart but I guessed as best I could and then began to make the rope bra.
Pulling it tightly round my breasts, leaning into it and pulling feeling the knots beginning to dig in, knowing that if it was not tight enough for him then I would have to do it again. I know I can never do any of the rope work like he does, but I did try my hardest and when I was finally pleased with the results I knelt still, and waited for him.
He returned after about 10 more minutes with a cup of tea, and I had to show him every inch of the rope, he examined it closely, and then checked my slowly darkening breasts, admiring the tightness of the skin, the straining of my nipples against the bars he inserted before I left.
The four pegs were placed on me, one of each nipple, one I couldn't feel and one bit into me like the teeth of a doberman on crack. He smiled as I winced, he smiled as I wriggled to get comfortable with the pegs on my cunt.
And then I was sent to the wall to think about my behaviour.
I know I am not allowed to move when I am at the wall, I know it is important that I am comfortable when I get there so I remain still. Sometimes I close my eyes and rest my head against the cool of the wall, letting it fill my head.and I drift off.
"Open your eyes"
Io i stared at the magnolia paint, slowly at first the minutes ticked by, I can tell how long I am there by the number of cycles the air con goes through. I can tell, if I count seconds.
"Turn the air con off and stop counting"
Damn how does he know..................so I crawled across the room and got the air con control and turned it off. I faced the wall and stared at the magnolia paint.1 ....2....3....
"no counting and NO 13 times tables"
so I ran through a few lists in my head......................jobs to do, shopping to get, paperwork to fill
and when I had nothing left to think about ...........
I began to do as i was told.
I could feel the rope digging into me, ,the knots felt hot, like smouldering coals.........I felt hot.
and as my mind emptied, I did do as I was told, and I did think of him and what I should have done how I should have behaved, where I had let things slip.
and again I was sad. sad I had let him down
Sad I had not spoken up about how I was feeling
And all the feelings that had begun to grow in me filled me, and poured from me as I began to cry.
He left me there staring at the magnolia paint until I was calmer, until my sobs had stopped, until my breathing returned to normal until I was still.
Once more I was still.................and he called me.
I returned to him and knelt before him waiting for him to speak to me. I looked at the little clock on the side of the screen..........................more than an hour had passed since he first put me to the wall......I was surprised.
I cant really remember what he talked about exactly, I cant recall the words he used, but it was about control, about use and limits and his pleasure and my role in life. About being open , about trust.
I remember him saying that he can do whatever he likes to me
" Do 50 star jumps, 50 press ups and 50 sit ups, you have 5 minutes, if it takes you longer you will do it all again, and you will keep doing it until you do it in the time:"
The ropes and the knots in the rope bit into my skin, like sharp hot knives twisting and rubbing against the soft skin under my breasts, the tightness of the rope against my swollen breast brought tears to my eyes, the pressure of gravity dragged on them making them feel heavy beyond belief , but I struggled , worked had and when I had finished I knelt as instructed with my legs closed tightly against the cunt pegs. tears filling my eyes, my chest heaving.
"Good girl".
I smiled at him, and he smiled back.
"Get your toy, and put it in, put the cam on your cunt and make yourself cum"
The mixture of pain and pleasure. Pain from the pegs and pleasure from the toy.........confused me, sent me spiraling away into some dark corner of my soul...........I tried to ask for permission to cum, I really did, the words were in my head. I am sure I sent the message to my lips, but nothing came out. and so as I came, without permission I was filled with pain, pleasure and slight uncertainty as to his reaction.
I lay on the bed, hot and sweaty, sore, bruised, a dripping cunt and a dreamy smile on my face.
"Undo the rope".
I started to undo the rope but I couldn't find the end. I began to panic, and then I lost the Internet connection.
I felt the panic rising in me , I searched , pulling at different bits, trying to find it, but I couldn't. I tried to calm myself, tried to breath, panic rising...............and then he came back.
Hearing his voice"Stop"
He began to talk to me like a child, like someone who has been lost; who is frightened. And following his instructions. I undid the rope.
He allowed me a drink, told me to eat a biscuit and told me to lie down.
And as I lay there, he told me how proud he was of me, how I am a good slave, how I do whatever he asks me, how he understands how hard it is for me, how he misses me and cant wait for me to be back at his feet, on the end of my rope, and how much I please him.
he told me to close my eyes...........................
Hours later when I woke up, he was still there, watching me, and again he told me to
"sleep my sweet slave" and I did.
Each ache soothed by knowing he was there.
I am his slave, my heart and soul and calm once more
.
.
Friday, 10 December 2010
Thursday, 9 December 2010
Those dreaded words.............
I don't seem at the moment to be able to get anything right.
Everything I do seems to be not quite right, not up the the mark..he said the words I dread the most............
"You have let me down, I am disappointed in you, in how you are behaving"
*sigh*
Tears....lots of tears
Then he said "It is partly my fault too, as I have been so busy". and although that maybe true, and I MUST believe it because he has said that is how it is..........I felt no better.
I want the duvet over my head, I want to hide from him and not see the disappointment in his eyes, hear it in his voice, see it printed on the page.
I need him to punish me. I need to be punished .
I need to try harder and be better, to listen more carefully and pay attention. To behave as I have been taught.
I need him to punish me, so I can focus on what is needed, and know he has forgiven me, so i can bring myself to look at him again, and not see the disappointment that I have caused.
I need to be able to kneel at his feet after my punishment, and be allowed to put my head on his lap and head his hand stroke my hair.
I need him.
Wednesday, 8 December 2010
You know when you know you are in trouble and your heart just sinks, and you know you have to 'fess up
Well, I knew I was in trouble, I am in trouble.
I have a work commitment tonight, after my usual time, after the time I told him i would be home today.
I did know about it a few weeks ago, but I forgot to mention it, and I knew about it at the end of last week, and I forgot to mention it.
And I know he is very good about my work, very understanding, and doesn't make me pay for the lack of time sometimes when it would be more convenient for him.
And I have done this before....maybe even twice....
Deep trouble is what I am in.
I think if I had a dog house that's where I would be.
He is not happy.
And he is silent.
And so now I have something else to think about too.
And I will have to explain myself , why I didn't tell him, why I failed to remember...do you think using my age is a good enough excuse? Maybe that I am busy?
Maybe I will try......maybe not!
I will be punished, of that there is no doubt.
Three strikes and I'm out.
Tuesday, 7 December 2010
Swimming in the rain
Today I went swimming in the rain.
Not the gentle"kiss your eyes lashes, soft focus, run through a summer meadow with a book over your head, laughing gently "type of rain.
Not the steady drizzle of an autumn day rain, where everything is shrouded in a swirling mist, and slowly seems to soak through sort of rain.
No
I went swimming in hard arse rain, the "hurt your arms, give you bruises, freeze your brain, soak you instantly" sort of rain.
Not the gentle"kiss your eyes lashes, soft focus, run through a summer meadow with a book over your head, laughing gently "type of rain.
Not the steady drizzle of an autumn day rain, where everything is shrouded in a swirling mist, and slowly seems to soak through sort of rain.
No
I went swimming in hard arse rain, the "hurt your arms, give you bruises, freeze your brain, soak you instantly" sort of rain.
And it was bliss.....invigorating. enlivening, exhilarating, and absolutely freezing.
When I got back to my car, I put the heating on.
when I got home, I stripped and dropped my soaking clothes onto a cold floor, the clothes that were soaking from the mad dash "pool to car sort of soaking"). I made myself a hot chocolate, curled up in a blanket on a chair outside , watched the rain pour from a leaden sky, and drifted off to sleep................
I woke to find a small cat on my lap , and some watery rays of sun catching my feet.....................
Simple things.
(doesn't mean I have stopped pondering though!)
Monday, 6 December 2010
Pondering my place
Last night we talked briefly................he told me he was glad I was back safely, that he had missed me, and that, in the words that make various bodily parts of me clench, shake, moisten, quiver, sink, leap, spin and feel all peculiar, he said...................."hmmmmm, ahhhhhhhh, ohhhhhhhhhh, " as he put me under the metaphorical microscope..............."I think.............we need some time..........I need to use you, for you to feel my control, and this time it is going to be hard, very hard and you will ask me, beg me for it, and thank me when I am done with you".
And from some where deep inside a whispered voice replied "Yes please Sir".
So now I have to wait to see, I am left to ponder without trying to think about it.
No second guessing.
No predictions.
Just pondering
I cannot ask, I cannot cajole, or push or introduce it as a topic for discussion, or whinge or whine.
Nothing
So I wait, until he is ready, until he has thought exactly what he wants, needs to do, until then........................I am allowed to ponder my place, my purpose, my role................no more
Sunday, 5 December 2010
back
I am back ............tired, hot, but home. Waiting for the chance to talk with my owner again...............
Thursday, 2 December 2010
No sleeping on the bed
He feels that my impending weekend away necessitates some reminder for me about control, a reminder of what I am.
Last night I was sent to be early with some ice cubes. Before he has melted them in my cunt, but this time he used them to chill my nipples bars.......................what kind of wicked mind thinks that? Does he not know how painful it is? Doesn't he..........?
Oh yes he does.
I waited for some more things from the list to be used, waited on my knees with my rope around my neck; once again tight enough to feel, but no more.
And pegs were on my ears to remind me to listen.
He reminded me that I have no rights, nothing is guaranteed. the only thing that is for sure in my life is that I am his slave.
Anything I am given can be taken away............anything.
My cup was taken away......................and now I am only allowed to lap from the plastic plate he has given me., with a reminder that that too can be taken.
I was placed once again, face down on the hard wooden floor, with the pegs on my half frozen nipples, arms behind my back, legs crossed and that hated hood on.
And he left me.
And he left me; I could hear nothing but the fan slowly moving the hot air around the room.
And I waited, and waited. Slowly my nipples thawed out and the pain set in. feeling the wooden floor pressing against my squashed nipples.
And I could feel my cunt clenching, becoming wetter despite myself.
Finally I heard him return and waited for him to speak. Time passed slowly...very slowly.
and then he talked again about what I am allowed, what I have a right to.
When he allowed me to remove the hood,I realised I had been lying on the floor for over an hour. I was so close to falling into that blissful floaty place, where I seem incapable of doing anything, yet will do anything he says. where I remember almost nothing, but images gradually float back into my mind, snatched phrases, feeling, sounds.
He did not want me to go there and so, a few choice words and I was back.
He had me complete my night time rituals, remove the pegs, get ready for bed...............and just as I was about to climb onto the bed....................STOP, NO BED.
And so last night I slept on the hard wood floor, my arms and feet bound as usual, a thin cover, one small pillow..........................and ......
I was grateful for all of, I slept like a baby, curled up, restricted by the rope, or opened out with my hands over my head and my legs like a frog...........feeling open, exposed, submissive, oh so submissive and very happy.
And tonight he has more plans.
Last night I was sent to be early with some ice cubes. Before he has melted them in my cunt, but this time he used them to chill my nipples bars.......................what kind of wicked mind thinks that? Does he not know how painful it is? Doesn't he..........?
Oh yes he does.
I waited for some more things from the list to be used, waited on my knees with my rope around my neck; once again tight enough to feel, but no more.
And pegs were on my ears to remind me to listen.
He reminded me that I have no rights, nothing is guaranteed. the only thing that is for sure in my life is that I am his slave.
Anything I am given can be taken away............anything.
My cup was taken away......................and now I am only allowed to lap from the plastic plate he has given me., with a reminder that that too can be taken.
I was placed once again, face down on the hard wooden floor, with the pegs on my half frozen nipples, arms behind my back, legs crossed and that hated hood on.
And he left me.
And he left me; I could hear nothing but the fan slowly moving the hot air around the room.
And I waited, and waited. Slowly my nipples thawed out and the pain set in. feeling the wooden floor pressing against my squashed nipples.
And I could feel my cunt clenching, becoming wetter despite myself.
Finally I heard him return and waited for him to speak. Time passed slowly...very slowly.
and then he talked again about what I am allowed, what I have a right to.
When he allowed me to remove the hood,I realised I had been lying on the floor for over an hour. I was so close to falling into that blissful floaty place, where I seem incapable of doing anything, yet will do anything he says. where I remember almost nothing, but images gradually float back into my mind, snatched phrases, feeling, sounds.
He did not want me to go there and so, a few choice words and I was back.
He had me complete my night time rituals, remove the pegs, get ready for bed...............and just as I was about to climb onto the bed....................STOP, NO BED.
And so last night I slept on the hard wood floor, my arms and feet bound as usual, a thin cover, one small pillow..........................and ......
I was grateful for all of, I slept like a baby, curled up, restricted by the rope, or opened out with my hands over my head and my legs like a frog...........feeling open, exposed, submissive, oh so submissive and very happy.
And tonight he has more plans.
Wednesday, 1 December 2010
Impending doom, throw away phrases and his list.
You know that feeling of impending doom that settles on us from time to time, the sinking feeling, the one where you feel you are waiting for something to happen. It might not happen to you, it might not even happen to someone you know, but something will happen...and when it does...you think..."aaaaaaah yes, that why I had the impending doom feeling.
Well I have the first part of that...its hanging over me...impending doom.
But instead of it being an unknown, I know who its going to happen to ...its going to happen to me.
My owner has been muttering, just throw away phrases, that on their own mean little or nothing , but when you add them together........that cloud descends.
It has taken me some time to learn not to think about things that will happen, to not try and second guess him, to wait to be told, to not think.....just do.....and I know he can see me squirming inside ...but I'm not wondering...honest!
Plates, ropes, ice cubes, chopsticks, more ropes, a pillow case, pegs (obviously), a foot scrubber thing, a pen, a long thin bamboo cane, a hammer, ... tell me you would not wonder.
And the list continues.................
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