Today I was given a gift by my owner..........it was a day off. At first when he offered it I didn't know what to say...but I did eventually say yes. I was still feeling a bit dislocated..............but I have had a lovely day.
I went to the gym, which was empty and so I was in a complete world of my own....just me and my ipod. I had a wonderful shower under the world's most fierce shower, which after working hard was just bliss.
I stopped of an picked up a friend and then drove us to have a massage................after a hard work out.......it was wonderful. I like a hard massage that gets rid of all the aches and pains, but today I asked for one that is less like a pummeling from a WWW wrestler......and for the first time ever.........I fell asleep.
After the massage we went out for lunch, a wonderful meal of Thai food...Thai chicken salad, green mango salad with beef and ice cold lime juice..................I left feeling full and healthy.......perfect.
I came home and had a small snooze, watched a bit of a DVD and then spent sometime on skype talking to friends in the UK.
Then I sat outside and watched the approaching storm, with violent thunder and lightning flashing across the sky, leaping from cloud to cloud.
And then the rain came....for about ten minutes it rained like the coming of Noah's flood, and then it stopped as suddenly as it had started,and the sun came out from behind the cloud and I watched the most dramatic of sunsets; golden edged black clouds in a crimson sky.
My phone went and it was time for me to go online.......and my owner was there, waiting for me, welcoming me back from my day off............he says I can have another one in three months.
But now I think that I will have to pay for it..... I wonder what the price will be...as he says...nothing in a slaves life is to be taken for granted and nothing is free
Saturday, 30 April 2011
Friday, 29 April 2011
In the corner of my heart
This morning I was awake before 5am...and the moment I stirred he was talking to me. I was out of bed and crawling to the toy box to get everything out. He had me get the TENS unit and the big vibrator and told me I could choose one more..........I didn't want to choose any of the rest...they are all ouchy one way or another and he said that I needed to get up earlier to give us time to talk, didn't look like talking was in his plan of action.I was miffed!
I didn't want to choose something ouchy...so I chose a rope. He had me tie the rope bra......I must admit, I wasn't very awake, and didn't do the world's best job, but I did it.
And then he had me ram the vibrator deep inside, turn it on full and sit and talk to him. And then make myself cum for him, after leaving me on the edge of the "cumming precipice" for about fifteen minutes until I was on the point of screaming...............almost unable to beg, just focusing on his voice and willing myself not to cum.
Time passes so quickly, it was time for me to shower..my computer crashes.............and in that moment I felt cut loose................lost..................scared.
Scared of what I don't know. I felt so alone.
Waiting for the connection seemed endless, finally it happened, but it was time for me to leave. I didn't want to go, I wanted to stay with him, my eyes filled with tears, my heart was heavy and I longed to be in his arms,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,but I had to go.
All day I have felt a sense of loss............I don't know what it is I lost, but in those few moment, what ever it is...I lost it.
I am not sad, unhappy or down........it is a strange feeling.
I talked to him later........................but it lingers like a wisp of mist in the corner of my heart.
I didn't want to choose something ouchy...so I chose a rope. He had me tie the rope bra......I must admit, I wasn't very awake, and didn't do the world's best job, but I did it.
And then he had me ram the vibrator deep inside, turn it on full and sit and talk to him. And then make myself cum for him, after leaving me on the edge of the "cumming precipice" for about fifteen minutes until I was on the point of screaming...............almost unable to beg, just focusing on his voice and willing myself not to cum.
Time passes so quickly, it was time for me to shower..my computer crashes.............and in that moment I felt cut loose................lost..................scared.
Scared of what I don't know. I felt so alone.
Waiting for the connection seemed endless, finally it happened, but it was time for me to leave. I didn't want to go, I wanted to stay with him, my eyes filled with tears, my heart was heavy and I longed to be in his arms,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,but I had to go.
All day I have felt a sense of loss............I don't know what it is I lost, but in those few moment, what ever it is...I lost it.
I am not sad, unhappy or down........it is a strange feeling.
I talked to him later........................but it lingers like a wisp of mist in the corner of my heart.
Thursday, 28 April 2011
An honourable man
I have struggled over the last few days as to what to write about. My owner has been very busy at work, and so have I; working fifteen hour days, and we seem more like passing ships in the night than ever. I am so tired when he is awake, and he is tired when I am.
His answer today was that I must get up half an hour earlier to talk to him, hopefully we will now get to spend a little time together.
I have been thinking about writing a post about humiliation. Normally, when I write, I don't think. I just open my laptop, log on and start typing and what comes out ...comes out. But for some reason this is one that I want to think about ........and I am not sure why. Maybe it is because I am not sure what it is I feel or want to write about, or maybe it is something else altogether...anyway...its brewing.
I was going to tell you about the places I have found ants in the last 24 hours: kettle, sink, cooker...whilst hot, bed, toothpaste, fridge, every floor, coming out of mortar, on a light bulb and living in my laptop...................but then its not very interesting.
Today is my dad's birthday and I managed to call him, which was fantastic. However, he is getting old and loosing his hearing, and so the "satellite bounce" makes things difficult. he also has Alzheimer, and so sometimes mid conversation he looses the thread, but he has learnt how to deflect things, so it is a little disjointed, But it was good to hear his voice. My dad is awesome, he has one of the biggest brains on the planet, he is so brainy it's unbelievable. Until he got sick, he had the most amazing memory, completely recall. He spoke about fifteen languages, was one of the first computer geeks around, is so well read...and a sense of humour that can floor you with one word.
He has the most amazing eyes; pale grey. That sounds like they are cold, but no, they are filled with warmth, and kindness, humour and delight at the world. Now sadly, there are times when they show confusion where before there was just clarity, times when they show resignation where before it was determination, and other times now ...when sadly they show nothing at all.
My dad is one of the nicest men I have ever met, he is honest and honourable, thoughtful and a real gentleman. He treats everyone the same, regardless of what they do, how they appear, and how they behave, he treats people with respect, and through his lifetime has commanded great respect from the peers and everyone he has worked with.
My dad is not perfect: he can't sing in tune to save his life, but he loves to sing (I think he used to do ti mainly to annoy my mother), DIY is not in his skills repertoire, he cant cook, or change a nappy, he can be frustratingly obtuse until you catch up with him, oh and he can't tell a joke, because he starts to laugh.
My dad is also the baby whisperer....you just hand him a crying baby and within seconds they are calm.....he doesn't even really talk to them, but just holds them. He would spend hours with my children tucked up on his lap as he read the newspaper.
He can strip a chicken with a knife and fork, he can peel an apple in one piece, tie a fly for fishing, ...but doesn't know how to wire a plug.
I look at my dad and wonder why he ever married someone as horrid as my mum. I asked him recently why he is still married, and he told me, its because he married for better or worse, and that he has me and my siblings, and for him that was enough. I wanted to get angry and say that was not enough, but then I thought, it is who my dad is, a man of his word.
I wish I could spend the day with him, but he is always in my thoughts and my heart............might just phone him back again before I go to bed and tell him.
His answer today was that I must get up half an hour earlier to talk to him, hopefully we will now get to spend a little time together.
I have been thinking about writing a post about humiliation. Normally, when I write, I don't think. I just open my laptop, log on and start typing and what comes out ...comes out. But for some reason this is one that I want to think about ........and I am not sure why. Maybe it is because I am not sure what it is I feel or want to write about, or maybe it is something else altogether...anyway...its brewing.
I was going to tell you about the places I have found ants in the last 24 hours: kettle, sink, cooker...whilst hot, bed, toothpaste, fridge, every floor, coming out of mortar, on a light bulb and living in my laptop...................but then its not very interesting.
Today is my dad's birthday and I managed to call him, which was fantastic. However, he is getting old and loosing his hearing, and so the "satellite bounce" makes things difficult. he also has Alzheimer, and so sometimes mid conversation he looses the thread, but he has learnt how to deflect things, so it is a little disjointed, But it was good to hear his voice. My dad is awesome, he has one of the biggest brains on the planet, he is so brainy it's unbelievable. Until he got sick, he had the most amazing memory, completely recall. He spoke about fifteen languages, was one of the first computer geeks around, is so well read...and a sense of humour that can floor you with one word.
He has the most amazing eyes; pale grey. That sounds like they are cold, but no, they are filled with warmth, and kindness, humour and delight at the world. Now sadly, there are times when they show confusion where before there was just clarity, times when they show resignation where before it was determination, and other times now ...when sadly they show nothing at all.
My dad is one of the nicest men I have ever met, he is honest and honourable, thoughtful and a real gentleman. He treats everyone the same, regardless of what they do, how they appear, and how they behave, he treats people with respect, and through his lifetime has commanded great respect from the peers and everyone he has worked with.
My dad is not perfect: he can't sing in tune to save his life, but he loves to sing (I think he used to do ti mainly to annoy my mother), DIY is not in his skills repertoire, he cant cook, or change a nappy, he can be frustratingly obtuse until you catch up with him, oh and he can't tell a joke, because he starts to laugh.
My dad is also the baby whisperer....you just hand him a crying baby and within seconds they are calm.....he doesn't even really talk to them, but just holds them. He would spend hours with my children tucked up on his lap as he read the newspaper.
He can strip a chicken with a knife and fork, he can peel an apple in one piece, tie a fly for fishing, ...but doesn't know how to wire a plug.
I look at my dad and wonder why he ever married someone as horrid as my mum. I asked him recently why he is still married, and he told me, its because he married for better or worse, and that he has me and my siblings, and for him that was enough. I wanted to get angry and say that was not enough, but then I thought, it is who my dad is, a man of his word.
I wish I could spend the day with him, but he is always in my thoughts and my heart............might just phone him back again before I go to bed and tell him.
Tuesday, 26 April 2011
Cumming or Jelly Babies?
Why is it, just when you are feeling at your least sexy, when you have more metaphorical Bridget Jones big pants on (see previous post), when you feel fat, and want to eat cookies till you feel sick, or plate loads of pasta, drink a beer and belch like a cowboy...why is it then, at that very moment they demand you feel sexy?
Why?
Because they can.
Why did he, last night, decide that it would be a good thing to do to tell me to cum for him, to please him, excite him, when what I wanted to do was curl up with a nice cup of tea on the sofa with a crappy girly book and a packet of jelly babies.
Because he could.
So there I was, kneeling naked on the floor, the air con was not working, so I was slightly sweaty...bear in mind this is an understatement, it was 39C again today and 85% humidity. A sheen of sweat was forming over my body, which he seemed to appreciate.
He told me to get the bowl...the one from which I have to drink when he feels the need to humiliate me, or in his words"when you need to be humiliated", which actually reading it, I think those are two separate things.
Anyway, the bowl was brought out and he told me to look at it, to think about what it meant, what it was. My initial answer was "a bowl".....not entirely true,it is so much more, and we talked about that. He then told me to put the bowl at my feet, and there it stayed for a while while he talked to me about my submission, about how I had to obey him, how regardless of anything; his feelings, anything.................... I am first and foremost...his slave.
I had to put the vibrator in my cunt which was surprisingly wet................ and then he told me to climb up on the bed, and to use the vibrator to make myself cum...but to do it very, very slowly.
I'm not sure what happened, but somewhere along the line.........somewhere in all of this.................I sort of changed my mind........I wanted to cum............for him, to make him happy, to please him. And so very slowly and with just the most gentle of touches for a long time, I played with the vibrator, inside my cunt, on the lips of my cunt, gentle teasing my clit until I was at screaming point..........and waited for the words I needed to hear."cum for me slave"
And when I came............................I floated away on a blissful cloud of happiness as he called me his
"Good girl".....and lay there with a silly grin on my face.
Somehow the thoughts of cookies, beer, belching and shed loads of jelly babies no longer filled my head...........all I could think of was him, my Master, my Owner.
Why?
Because they can.
Why did he, last night, decide that it would be a good thing to do to tell me to cum for him, to please him, excite him, when what I wanted to do was curl up with a nice cup of tea on the sofa with a crappy girly book and a packet of jelly babies.
Because he could.
So there I was, kneeling naked on the floor, the air con was not working, so I was slightly sweaty...bear in mind this is an understatement, it was 39C again today and 85% humidity. A sheen of sweat was forming over my body, which he seemed to appreciate.
He told me to get the bowl...the one from which I have to drink when he feels the need to humiliate me, or in his words"when you need to be humiliated", which actually reading it, I think those are two separate things.
Anyway, the bowl was brought out and he told me to look at it, to think about what it meant, what it was. My initial answer was "a bowl".....not entirely true,it is so much more, and we talked about that. He then told me to put the bowl at my feet, and there it stayed for a while while he talked to me about my submission, about how I had to obey him, how regardless of anything; his feelings, anything.................... I am first and foremost...his slave.
I had to put the vibrator in my cunt which was surprisingly wet................ and then he told me to climb up on the bed, and to use the vibrator to make myself cum...but to do it very, very slowly.
I'm not sure what happened, but somewhere along the line.........somewhere in all of this.................I sort of changed my mind........I wanted to cum............for him, to make him happy, to please him. And so very slowly and with just the most gentle of touches for a long time, I played with the vibrator, inside my cunt, on the lips of my cunt, gentle teasing my clit until I was at screaming point..........and waited for the words I needed to hear."cum for me slave"
And when I came............................I floated away on a blissful cloud of happiness as he called me his
"Good girl".....and lay there with a silly grin on my face.
Somehow the thoughts of cookies, beer, belching and shed loads of jelly babies no longer filled my head...........all I could think of was him, my Master, my Owner.
Sunday, 24 April 2011
On my kness with the cane in my mouth.
Well I was ready, very ready.
I was ready at 6 am.
I was ready at 7am
and I was ready at 8am..................and then he appeared, at 8 am.......and so he was ready.
My heart was beating fast..........waiting to see what he had planned.
We chatted for a while, asking how I had slept and how his day had gone, how the evening had been, just usual chatting as you would do at the end of a day apart, although our days apart are lived on either side of the world, a day time apart.
He then without any preamble told me to fetch the vibrator and the cane.
The vibrator slid in with ease...I think that my cunt had been awake all night whilst the rest of my body slept.
I knelt on the floor in front of him, whilst he had me tell him:
"I am your slave. I am here for your pleasure, for you to use my body, I am your toy for you to play with.I am yours."
He then told me it was time for some fun...I tried really hard not to pull a face, I really did, but I don't think I managed it because I heard him tut and sigh at me.
He started to hum. my heart sank. Last time he wanted me to sing for him, Iburst into tears and couldn't stop.
"On your hands and knees slave, and don't let that toy fall out, pull your rope up tighter"
I was on the floor looking up at the camera on the edge of the bed, and although I say it myself, I looked very submissive.
"Sing me 'How much is that doggy in the window', and don't forget to wag your tail.
I sang, laughing, and then because I can, I sang it backwards, not facing backwards, but ....
"Window in doggy that is much how?" type of backwards...I couldn't stop laughing, and neither could he.
I don't know what the difference between singing this song and singing the other was , but it felt so different.
He then told me to put the cane in my mouth and sing it again. I'm not quite sure how I sang , what with laughing, singing and wagging my "tail".
He had me then balance the cane on my nose and sing again. This time I didn't laugh, but I do think I went cross eyed from concentrating. He told me for every time it fell off I would use the cane.
"How much is that doggy *CRASH* in the window.
THE one with the wagg...er..ly tail.*WAG WAG CRASH*
How much is that doggy in the window
I do hope that*CRASH*(oh shit, sorry Sir) dog is for sale."
I then tried to stay in character and do the whole puppy dog left on the side of the road pleading eyes to get out of the impending cane usage....to no avail.
I sat back on my heels again and, following his instructions to close my eyes, ran the cane down my breast to my nipple.
One.......and I brought the cane down on my nipple, thankfully it missed and caught the top of my breast.
Two.......and it caught me squarely on the nipple.
Three.....knowing how it hurt, is always harder.
Then again, on the other nipple, this time they all fell onto the nipple, catching my breath, making tears spring to my eyes. I heard him whisper "Good girl".
"Now my little puppy with the waggly tail, lie on the floor and "stay"."
And so with sore nipples pressed into the floor I lay and waited for him to be ready.
After the pain seeped into me, clouded my brain, he had me on my hands and knees again, cumming for him. The orgasm ripping through me, making my legs quiver, sweat sticking my hair to my forehead, and crying out his name as I climaxed.
Crawling onto the bed, I lay down on my back and once more came for my owner, never taking my eyes from his, not speaking, not listening, just looking............ looking at him.
He told me how happy I had made him by doing as I was told, he told me how he loved to hear me laugh, he told me how much he loved me and missed me. He told me I was a good girl, a funny puppy, his little girl, his friend , his lover and his slave.
What a lovely way to start the day.
I was ready at 6 am.
I was ready at 7am
and I was ready at 8am..................and then he appeared, at 8 am.......and so he was ready.
My heart was beating fast..........waiting to see what he had planned.
We chatted for a while, asking how I had slept and how his day had gone, how the evening had been, just usual chatting as you would do at the end of a day apart, although our days apart are lived on either side of the world, a day time apart.
He then without any preamble told me to fetch the vibrator and the cane.
The vibrator slid in with ease...I think that my cunt had been awake all night whilst the rest of my body slept.
I knelt on the floor in front of him, whilst he had me tell him:
"I am your slave. I am here for your pleasure, for you to use my body, I am your toy for you to play with.I am yours."
He then told me it was time for some fun...I tried really hard not to pull a face, I really did, but I don't think I managed it because I heard him tut and sigh at me.
He started to hum. my heart sank. Last time he wanted me to sing for him, Iburst into tears and couldn't stop.
"On your hands and knees slave, and don't let that toy fall out, pull your rope up tighter"
I was on the floor looking up at the camera on the edge of the bed, and although I say it myself, I looked very submissive.
"Sing me 'How much is that doggy in the window', and don't forget to wag your tail.
I sang, laughing, and then because I can, I sang it backwards, not facing backwards, but ....
"Window in doggy that is much how?" type of backwards...I couldn't stop laughing, and neither could he.
I don't know what the difference between singing this song and singing the other was , but it felt so different.
He then told me to put the cane in my mouth and sing it again. I'm not quite sure how I sang , what with laughing, singing and wagging my "tail".
He had me then balance the cane on my nose and sing again. This time I didn't laugh, but I do think I went cross eyed from concentrating. He told me for every time it fell off I would use the cane.
"How much is that doggy *CRASH* in the window.
THE one with the wagg...er..ly tail.*WAG WAG CRASH*
How much is that doggy in the window
I do hope that*CRASH*(oh shit, sorry Sir) dog is for sale."
I then tried to stay in character and do the whole puppy dog left on the side of the road pleading eyes to get out of the impending cane usage....to no avail.
I sat back on my heels again and, following his instructions to close my eyes, ran the cane down my breast to my nipple.
One.......and I brought the cane down on my nipple, thankfully it missed and caught the top of my breast.
Two.......and it caught me squarely on the nipple.
Three.....knowing how it hurt, is always harder.
Then again, on the other nipple, this time they all fell onto the nipple, catching my breath, making tears spring to my eyes. I heard him whisper "Good girl".
"Now my little puppy with the waggly tail, lie on the floor and "stay"."
And so with sore nipples pressed into the floor I lay and waited for him to be ready.
After the pain seeped into me, clouded my brain, he had me on my hands and knees again, cumming for him. The orgasm ripping through me, making my legs quiver, sweat sticking my hair to my forehead, and crying out his name as I climaxed.
Crawling onto the bed, I lay down on my back and once more came for my owner, never taking my eyes from his, not speaking, not listening, just looking............ looking at him.
He told me how happy I had made him by doing as I was told, he told me how he loved to hear me laugh, he told me how much he loved me and missed me. He told me I was a good girl, a funny puppy, his little girl, his friend , his lover and his slave.
What a lovely way to start the day.
Saturday, 23 April 2011
Be still my beating heart
All alone....
Me...
and a book.
No owner till tomorrow
An email............
Four words..............
"8am, be ready"
Be still my beating heart.
Me...
and a book.
No owner till tomorrow
An email............
Four words..............
"8am, be ready"
Be still my beating heart.
That was that
We were talking this afternoon. I have had a couple of really good weeks at work. Things have just gone right, everything that should have happened has; paperwork has not fallen down on me in an avalanche, equipment has worked...everything has just been good.
The week is over, I have two days off, and I was invited to a party...things were looking good. He had told me I could go, in fact I was to go and that I was to stay late and enjoy myself.
So this afternoon when we were talking and i was beginning to get ready, I was happy and relaxed. He watched me shower as he does everyday, he watched me dry myself and it was a very lighthearted exchange, he told me I looked like I was off to a toga party,
He watched me get the cream and then asked me why I was covering myself in cream who it was for...somewhere along the line forgetting that he told me I must do it everyday....but ...........I told him and he laughed .
It was all very lovely.
I asked him if I could be allowed to please (can you see the note of beggingness here?) possibly have a drink at the party. "Yes" was his answer, "half a glass".
"Half a glass?"..."half"...:really ...half?"
There were notes,in fact whole symphonies of incredulity in my response.
He was certain, that he meant only half a glass.
Well, my mood dropped a little. I am not a big drinker, in fact I hardly drink at all...but really....half a glass!
So I "Yes Sired" and silently cursed him and hoped he got sunburn in the unseasonal British weather.
and then he started......................
"As you have been so cheeky, back chatting , forgetting things, giving me a 'bit of lip', you can choose.......
You can choose one of the following to wear to the party......................
A peg
a needle
or the TENS unit."
Oh how my little slavey heart sank.
I think my lip even began to protrude........................
It's not much of a choice.
The needle is not safe..it may fall out and without a "Sharps Box" how can I carry out "safe practice'?
The TENS unit......what I was wearing at his insistence would not conceal it ..............and also sweaty bodies at a party and self adhesive pads don't mix.
So it left the peg.
Now if you have ever worn a peg on a pierced nipple under a bra for hours you will be with me on this on....you just don't want to....its not nice.
"For the whole party Sir, the whole time? for hours Sir? till I come home Sir"
And my little slavely heart sunk lower and lower ...my skipping around the room in anticipation settled into a small sulk on my knees as I talked to him,
"You can phone me after an hour and ask to take it off slave"
And for some strange reason, all of a sudden I was happy again..................
And then he said
"Slave go and enjoy your party...no peg. Home by midnight Cinders"
And that was that.
The week is over, I have two days off, and I was invited to a party...things were looking good. He had told me I could go, in fact I was to go and that I was to stay late and enjoy myself.
So this afternoon when we were talking and i was beginning to get ready, I was happy and relaxed. He watched me shower as he does everyday, he watched me dry myself and it was a very lighthearted exchange, he told me I looked like I was off to a toga party,
He watched me get the cream and then asked me why I was covering myself in cream who it was for...somewhere along the line forgetting that he told me I must do it everyday....but ...........I told him and he laughed .
It was all very lovely.
I asked him if I could be allowed to please (can you see the note of beggingness here?) possibly have a drink at the party. "Yes" was his answer, "half a glass".
"Half a glass?"..."half"...:really ...half?"
There were notes,in fact whole symphonies of incredulity in my response.
He was certain, that he meant only half a glass.
Well, my mood dropped a little. I am not a big drinker, in fact I hardly drink at all...but really....half a glass!
So I "Yes Sired" and silently cursed him and hoped he got sunburn in the unseasonal British weather.
and then he started......................
"As you have been so cheeky, back chatting , forgetting things, giving me a 'bit of lip', you can choose.......
You can choose one of the following to wear to the party......................
A peg
a needle
or the TENS unit."
Oh how my little slavey heart sank.
I think my lip even began to protrude........................
It's not much of a choice.
The needle is not safe..it may fall out and without a "Sharps Box" how can I carry out "safe practice'?
The TENS unit......what I was wearing at his insistence would not conceal it ..............and also sweaty bodies at a party and self adhesive pads don't mix.
So it left the peg.
Now if you have ever worn a peg on a pierced nipple under a bra for hours you will be with me on this on....you just don't want to....its not nice.
"For the whole party Sir, the whole time? for hours Sir? till I come home Sir"
And my little slavely heart sunk lower and lower ...my skipping around the room in anticipation settled into a small sulk on my knees as I talked to him,
"You can phone me after an hour and ask to take it off slave"
And for some strange reason, all of a sudden I was happy again..................
And then he said
"Slave go and enjoy your party...no peg. Home by midnight Cinders"
And that was that.
Thursday, 21 April 2011
Rules and headaches
I was going to post about 'Rules", but it made my head hurt...............So I'm pressing my second favourite button................"OFF".................and head for a dark room with a drink, a hot water bottle and a big duvet.
Wednesday, 20 April 2011
Stuffed and silenced but still giggling
The other day I wore knickers. I can wear them when it is appropriate, if I ask, but I cannot just decide to wear them when I want to...but I did.
It wasn't that I was being deliberately bratty, I just put them on, when a plan changed, and I didn't text to ask.
But...when he came online to talk to me. I told him, straight away, and I got the most awful fit of the giggles while I was telling him, I don't know why, but I just couldn't help it.
I spent the next hour with them in my mouth, until they were covered in drool and then when i had to go back out, I had to put them on again...and he got a fit of the giggles.
However I was sent away with these words................".If you do it again, you will spend all night with them in your mouth and I will make you keep them in your mouth when I take you out when you come home"
Lucky they were small and lacy...still don't think I will do it again.
It wasn't that I was being deliberately bratty, I just put them on, when a plan changed, and I didn't text to ask.
But...when he came online to talk to me. I told him, straight away, and I got the most awful fit of the giggles while I was telling him, I don't know why, but I just couldn't help it.
I spent the next hour with them in my mouth, until they were covered in drool and then when i had to go back out, I had to put them on again...and he got a fit of the giggles.
However I was sent away with these words................".If you do it again, you will spend all night with them in your mouth and I will make you keep them in your mouth when I take you out when you come home"
Lucky they were small and lacy...still don't think I will do it again.
Tuesday, 19 April 2011
Salutation to the dawn
I was just writing an email to a friend, and having read their recent blog post, it made me think of my favourite poem, and so I thought I would post it here .
This has inspired me for many years; made me face things, embrace things, "seize the day", stop procrastinating, and just made me feel happy to be alive.
Just in case you are wondering....vanilla is flavour of the week here "far away":(
Salutation to the Dawn
Look to this day!
For it is life, the very life of life.
In its brief course
Lie all the verities and realities of your existence:
The bliss of growth
The glory of action
The splendor of beauty
For yesterday is but a dream
And tomorrow only a vision
But today well lived makes every yesterday a dream of happiness
And every tomorrow a vision of hope.
Look well, therefore to this day!
Such is the salutation to the dawn.
Monday, 18 April 2011
The beaches
Today a friend is leaving............he has finished and is of on holiday for six weeks.....off to Australia and New Zealand, Oh how I am filled with envy..........I love Australia, and long to walk once more along the beaches of Queensland, to come in on the surf in the Pacific at Byron Bay, to sit in one of the surf clubs, with a cold beer and watch the sunset over the golden beaches.
I long for the positiveness of Aussies, clean beaches, beautiful art, weird and wonderful wildlife and skies..oh the skies that go on forever.
Did I mention the beaches?
He has said I can go to Australia this year, he will come too if he can, and if not I will be there on the beach, walking as the sun rises, and as the sun sets.
Look on the map.....there is a beach with my name on it:)
I long for the positiveness of Aussies, clean beaches, beautiful art, weird and wonderful wildlife and skies..oh the skies that go on forever.
Did I mention the beaches?
He has said I can go to Australia this year, he will come too if he can, and if not I will be there on the beach, walking as the sun rises, and as the sun sets.
Look on the map.....there is a beach with my name on it:)
Sunday, 17 April 2011
manners
Good manners are something that I really appreciate. I can't abide bad manners...it is just a basic lack of respect for another person.
I was brought up to be polite...to say 'please' and 'thank you', to hold doors open, give up my seat,to let people out when at a junction, to be thoughtful and respectful.
Now I'm not saying that I am perfect by any means....I am not. But I do try...I really do. I hope that in my dealings with other people that I show then the respect they deserve as another human being. I hope that i treat all people equally, regardless of whether I pass them in the gutter in the street or at some important meeting somewhere with government ministers and royalty. I believ that everyone is equally deserving of good manners.It may be surprising to think that I think of everyone as equally deserving.
When you live in another culture it is always difficult to reconcile your social mores with someone who has been brought up different. To expect people to say 'please' here is like expecting Christmas every day...it just dosn't happen...they say "thank you", but not "please".
They don't hold a door open, its almost impossible to get out of a junction, They have very little respect for anyone....yet somehow they appear to be unfailingly polite...I am not quite sure how it happens but they do.
When I started thinking about manners it was not about here, where I live. "far away", but about manners within a D/s relationship. and how it operates.
My relationship with my owner is one of mutual respect. I respect him as a person, as my owner and respond to him accordingly. I address him as "Sir" and have never called him his name, although I have on occasions called him 'Sir Darling' which has made him laugh, but other than that it is always "Sir".
I will defer to him for a decision, in public and in private I always wait for him to start eating and to tell me I may, I would never sit down until he tells me I can.
I respect his judgement, to make decisions that are best for me, for him, for us, I don't always agree, but that's life.
In return ............he respect me..........he respects that I have submitted to him, given him the control of me, my life.
He is so well mannered. If he is late, he apologises, if he does something he thinks warrants an apology , he would always offer it.
He thanks me for doing things for him, although he expects me to do as I am told, to do what he wants, he thanks me. There is an expectation that I will always do it, but I am thanked when appropriate.
A long time ago, before this life I live now I had a previous owner, who was not well mannered, was demanding, inconsiderate and bullied his way through life, was rude to people he came across and thought that this as him being dominant...it wasn't it was him being rude.
I don't really know where I am going with this, other than to say being a Dominant, and owner, whatever you like to call it, does not exclude you from having good manners..... I think that's what I want to say and I am grateful that my owner does...
I was brought up to be polite...to say 'please' and 'thank you', to hold doors open, give up my seat,to let people out when at a junction, to be thoughtful and respectful.
Now I'm not saying that I am perfect by any means....I am not. But I do try...I really do. I hope that in my dealings with other people that I show then the respect they deserve as another human being. I hope that i treat all people equally, regardless of whether I pass them in the gutter in the street or at some important meeting somewhere with government ministers and royalty. I believ that everyone is equally deserving of good manners.It may be surprising to think that I think of everyone as equally deserving.
When you live in another culture it is always difficult to reconcile your social mores with someone who has been brought up different. To expect people to say 'please' here is like expecting Christmas every day...it just dosn't happen...they say "thank you", but not "please".
They don't hold a door open, its almost impossible to get out of a junction, They have very little respect for anyone....yet somehow they appear to be unfailingly polite...I am not quite sure how it happens but they do.
When I started thinking about manners it was not about here, where I live. "far away", but about manners within a D/s relationship. and how it operates.
My relationship with my owner is one of mutual respect. I respect him as a person, as my owner and respond to him accordingly. I address him as "Sir" and have never called him his name, although I have on occasions called him 'Sir Darling' which has made him laugh, but other than that it is always "Sir".
I will defer to him for a decision, in public and in private I always wait for him to start eating and to tell me I may, I would never sit down until he tells me I can.
I respect his judgement, to make decisions that are best for me, for him, for us, I don't always agree, but that's life.
In return ............he respect me..........he respects that I have submitted to him, given him the control of me, my life.
He is so well mannered. If he is late, he apologises, if he does something he thinks warrants an apology , he would always offer it.
He thanks me for doing things for him, although he expects me to do as I am told, to do what he wants, he thanks me. There is an expectation that I will always do it, but I am thanked when appropriate.
A long time ago, before this life I live now I had a previous owner, who was not well mannered, was demanding, inconsiderate and bullied his way through life, was rude to people he came across and thought that this as him being dominant...it wasn't it was him being rude.
I don't really know where I am going with this, other than to say being a Dominant, and owner, whatever you like to call it, does not exclude you from having good manners..... I think that's what I want to say and I am grateful that my owner does...
Saturday, 16 April 2011
The control is what I need the most.
I have been thinking........was it fun? Was it? No it wasn't.
Was it something he enjoys? Yes I guess it was.......he likes having the control, he like knowing that I will do what he says. He likes to know that he can make me do things I don't want to........but then I guess that's his kink...and mine is knowing I will.
He is into breath play, he always has been....................he likes to place his large hands around my neck and fix my eyes with his and gently squeeze and watch my face. He like to press harder as he fucks me, or as I make myself cum for him.........he likes to control me.
It is a lot more difficult to do this when I am "far away".
Its a lot more difficult to do this safely when I am not with him.
He sent me back with a clear, very large plastic bag.
He asked me to get all of the toys out, including the bag.........when he says 'Including the bag", my heart sort of leaps and sinks at the time time. I am filled with such a mixture of emotions. I love the control and the feelings that follow it, but I hate the bag itself.
The whole issue of safety is such a big one, the risks involved and measuring it , monitoring it etc is such a difficult thing to do from far away.
So to get over issues of safety, we have the laptop speaker on, the phone on and the camera is always on my face, nothing, but nothing takes his eyes off my face.The play itself is very restricted.
I kneel before him and attach the pegs to my nipples, immediately they begin to bite, to bite into the soft skin of my nipples, making me squirm with pain. He has me flick, pull and twist the pegs until I am begging him to stop...and still he continues.
He has me attach pegs to my cunt and one on my clit and has me flick them, and all the time my cunt is throbbing, getting wetter and I know what is coming.
I want it to start so it will be over..and yet I don't want it to start.
Its not like it is when I am home with him...here there is more fear, far more fear...even though I do know I am safe.
He has me prepare myself. the butt plug is in and I kneel before him ..........and then his phone goes and so I have to lie face down on the floor and wait for him to finish. I can hear him talking; hear him say he is busy, and yet still he talks........he talks business, dates and times, and then he says he must go.
I want him to get off the phone and me with me and yet I want him to stay there and leave me.. I can cope with the pain of the pegs pressed into my nipples by the hard floor, I can cope with it, if I think about it, feel it, wrap myself around it, the pegs on my cunts, squeezing the flesh of my cunt lips.
He gets off he phone and has me kneel again..............I am filled with the vibrator, it is on, the pegs on my cunt pushing and pulling on the delicate flesh .............and then it is time.
He checks the phone is working, that I can hear him there and on the laptop, and he tells me to take some deep breaths..........he counts them, and then tells me to put the bag on, and pull the rope.
It is not tight...it is tight enough so the bag moves when I breath, and i feel the air supply reducing, I feel the temperature rising in the bag, but I know I am allowed to take the bag off if I need to...................but I don't.
Hold my breath
Hold it
Hold
............ and then I am to cum
I am to make myself cum in the bag.........I know I can take it off if I need to
but I don't
I cum ...........................with the bag on........my cunt dripping down my leg.
He watches my face
talks to me
I take the bag off
And I cum again
I curl up on the floor and pull my special blanket down ontop of me.
I drift for what seems like hours with his voice in my ear, he talks of all things and I fall asleep as he talks of work
On the floor with the removed pegs clasped in my hand, I fall into an undisturbed sleep.
The bag is the thing I like the least...........the control is the thing I need the most.
Was it something he enjoys? Yes I guess it was.......he likes having the control, he like knowing that I will do what he says. He likes to know that he can make me do things I don't want to........but then I guess that's his kink...and mine is knowing I will.
He is into breath play, he always has been....................he likes to place his large hands around my neck and fix my eyes with his and gently squeeze and watch my face. He like to press harder as he fucks me, or as I make myself cum for him.........he likes to control me.
It is a lot more difficult to do this when I am "far away".
Its a lot more difficult to do this safely when I am not with him.
He sent me back with a clear, very large plastic bag.
He asked me to get all of the toys out, including the bag.........when he says 'Including the bag", my heart sort of leaps and sinks at the time time. I am filled with such a mixture of emotions. I love the control and the feelings that follow it, but I hate the bag itself.
The whole issue of safety is such a big one, the risks involved and measuring it , monitoring it etc is such a difficult thing to do from far away.
So to get over issues of safety, we have the laptop speaker on, the phone on and the camera is always on my face, nothing, but nothing takes his eyes off my face.The play itself is very restricted.
I kneel before him and attach the pegs to my nipples, immediately they begin to bite, to bite into the soft skin of my nipples, making me squirm with pain. He has me flick, pull and twist the pegs until I am begging him to stop...and still he continues.
He has me attach pegs to my cunt and one on my clit and has me flick them, and all the time my cunt is throbbing, getting wetter and I know what is coming.
I want it to start so it will be over..and yet I don't want it to start.
Its not like it is when I am home with him...here there is more fear, far more fear...even though I do know I am safe.
He has me prepare myself. the butt plug is in and I kneel before him ..........and then his phone goes and so I have to lie face down on the floor and wait for him to finish. I can hear him talking; hear him say he is busy, and yet still he talks........he talks business, dates and times, and then he says he must go.
I want him to get off the phone and me with me and yet I want him to stay there and leave me.. I can cope with the pain of the pegs pressed into my nipples by the hard floor, I can cope with it, if I think about it, feel it, wrap myself around it, the pegs on my cunts, squeezing the flesh of my cunt lips.
He gets off he phone and has me kneel again..............I am filled with the vibrator, it is on, the pegs on my cunt pushing and pulling on the delicate flesh .............and then it is time.
He checks the phone is working, that I can hear him there and on the laptop, and he tells me to take some deep breaths..........he counts them, and then tells me to put the bag on, and pull the rope.
It is not tight...it is tight enough so the bag moves when I breath, and i feel the air supply reducing, I feel the temperature rising in the bag, but I know I am allowed to take the bag off if I need to...................but I don't.
Hold my breath
Hold it
Hold
............ and then I am to cum
I am to make myself cum in the bag.........I know I can take it off if I need to
but I don't
I cum ...........................with the bag on........my cunt dripping down my leg.
He watches my face
talks to me
I take the bag off
And I cum again
I curl up on the floor and pull my special blanket down ontop of me.
I drift for what seems like hours with his voice in my ear, he talks of all things and I fall asleep as he talks of work
On the floor with the removed pegs clasped in my hand, I fall into an undisturbed sleep.
The bag is the thing I like the least...........the control is the thing I need the most.
Friday, 15 April 2011
Scrambled egg head
I am still thinking about last night, about what to write, about what to say about how I felt. I think maybe I need to leave it a bit longer and then write...nothing too dramatic ...its just one of those occasion when my head is left feeling like scrambled egg.
Thursday, 14 April 2011
fun
He is on his way to "talk " to me...although he says that there is going to be "fun" ..for whom I am not so sure...strange mood!
I thought it was hot
Thunder
- Feels Like:36 °C
- Barometer:982.05 mb and steady
- Humidity:74 %
- Visibility:9.99 km
- Dewpoint:25 °C
- Wind:WNW 12.87 km/h
- UV Index:1
- UV Description:Low
- The temperature outside at 5.30pm was 31C...above was the local weather report for 5.30pm.....one hot day.
Wednesday, 13 April 2011
“We are all travellers in the wilderness of this world, and the best we can find in our travels is an honest friend”
The first thing I need to tell you about my best friend is that I love her.
She is one of those quiet peaceful sorts of women; full of inner peace and calm. She is a couple of years older than me and I met her indirectly through work and then coincidentally we became neighbours.
She is a wonderful person; funny, kind thoughtful, generous, a good cook, loving, makes a good cup of tea, revolting coffee, she eats chocolate in the car when she thinks no one will see her, she has smelly feet, beautiful skin, she lets me borrow her slippers when my feet are cold, and has even put the heat on when I have visited her in the summer, just because I am cold.
She will walk with me for miles saying nothing, when there is nothing to be said, but can talk a hind leg off a donkey.
She has passed tissues when I have sat at her table and sobbed, and not asked me why. She has put her hand out and taken my snotty tissues and thrown them in the bin without even wincing. She has held my hair when I have been bent over the toilet bowl throwing up from a virus.
She has looked after my children, fed me when I have been broke, she has picked me up from the airport at silly o'clock in the morning, she has fetched me when my car has broken down.She has got my washing in when its raining if she has got home before me.
We have laughed together until we almost peed out pants, we have cried together at the death of her father in law, we have danced drunkenly in her garden singing bad 80's songs, we have lain on the glass at midnight on Mid Summer's Eve and looked at the starts together and then changed our minds and gone in for a "nice cup of tea" because we are far too old and soft to lie out in the cold.
We have cooked together and shared wonderful meals, we have looked at the fruit bowl and then eaten chocolate biscuits instead. We have gone shopping together for hours and bought nothing, we have read the same book a world apart and emailed each other excitedly about it, we have fallen asleep on the sofa together from sheer exhaustion, helped each other in those difficult moments in our lives.
We have walked literally thousands of miles together over the years and a million miles in life's journey together.
She is my best friend and I love her daughter like one of my own and...her husband is not too bad either (but I don't love him...that would just be too weird...well I do , but NOT like that ).
I can't wait to see her.
She is one of those quiet peaceful sorts of women; full of inner peace and calm. She is a couple of years older than me and I met her indirectly through work and then coincidentally we became neighbours.
She is a wonderful person; funny, kind thoughtful, generous, a good cook, loving, makes a good cup of tea, revolting coffee, she eats chocolate in the car when she thinks no one will see her, she has smelly feet, beautiful skin, she lets me borrow her slippers when my feet are cold, and has even put the heat on when I have visited her in the summer, just because I am cold.
She will walk with me for miles saying nothing, when there is nothing to be said, but can talk a hind leg off a donkey.
She has passed tissues when I have sat at her table and sobbed, and not asked me why. She has put her hand out and taken my snotty tissues and thrown them in the bin without even wincing. She has held my hair when I have been bent over the toilet bowl throwing up from a virus.
She has looked after my children, fed me when I have been broke, she has picked me up from the airport at silly o'clock in the morning, she has fetched me when my car has broken down.She has got my washing in when its raining if she has got home before me.
We have laughed together until we almost peed out pants, we have cried together at the death of her father in law, we have danced drunkenly in her garden singing bad 80's songs, we have lain on the glass at midnight on Mid Summer's Eve and looked at the starts together and then changed our minds and gone in for a "nice cup of tea" because we are far too old and soft to lie out in the cold.
We have cooked together and shared wonderful meals, we have looked at the fruit bowl and then eaten chocolate biscuits instead. We have gone shopping together for hours and bought nothing, we have read the same book a world apart and emailed each other excitedly about it, we have fallen asleep on the sofa together from sheer exhaustion, helped each other in those difficult moments in our lives.
We have walked literally thousands of miles together over the years and a million miles in life's journey together.
She is my best friend and I love her daughter like one of my own and...her husband is not too bad either (but I don't love him...that would just be too weird...well I do , but NOT like that ).
I can't wait to see her.
Tuesday, 12 April 2011
I hear my favourite vibrator calling me......come here...cum here
All alone ...twiddling my thumbs and looking very longingly at the vibrator in the corner of the room
I could just inch a little closer to it....
Maybe just turn it on to check it still works...
Perhaps it needs new batteries........
I should check it hasn't ceased up due to lack of use......
STEP AWAY FROM THE VIBRATOR!
Just 24 more hours
I could just inch a little closer to it....
Maybe just turn it on to check it still works...
Perhaps it needs new batteries........
I should check it hasn't ceased up due to lack of use......
STEP AWAY FROM THE VIBRATOR!
Just 24 more hours
Monday, 11 April 2011
A question of perspective
Spiders are something I am terrified of..........I can cope with snakes, revolting great big jungle cockroaches, bugs that look like Darth Vader's brother after a nuclear mutation episode, wriggly things with millions of legs, stick insect that just seem somehow to be revolting.
I can cope, at a push, with leeches, although it does make my stomach turn a little when they are attached to a bit of my anatomy.
I almost like woodlouse...but the one thing I just cannot cope with is spiders.
I can cope just about with money spiders, providing they don't go on my face, and I can get them off me as soon as possible, but anything that has eight legs and is bigger than a "full stop" (period for you Americans) brings me out in a panic.
My stomach feels like its falling out as it sinks in a nano second, at the same time if feels as if it is coming up to my mouth as I feel sick, my heart pounds in my chest threatening to breakout through my ribs, my skins crawls as if covered by a million ants, and I sweat...not a lady like glow or ever a little perspiration...oh no....great big drops of sweat form on my brow, run down my back............and I am filled with the desire and need to run away as fast as I can.
There is just one problem, well two actually.
The first is that I cant run. This is not because of all the aforementioned bodily changes happening all at once, but because if I run away and leave the room, then I will not know where the spider is and then when I return to the room, it could appear at any minute............dropping down onto me...creeping up from behind...some sort of armed assault from the flank, and I will not be able to relax until I know exactly where it is.
The second problem is that I cannot kill spider. I have no problems with cockroaches, I have not problems with mosquitoes.....but anything else.............and I cant do it...........partly because they are creatures, but mostly its because of the icky sounds they make when it crushes or squelches.
So anyway...there I was faced by a big spider on the wall...the wall that I was about to walk past, the wall that I couldn't walk past...the wall I was left staring at out of the corner of my eyes, if that is possible. I don't want to look at the spider, just know where it is.
How did I get round the dilemma?
How did I continue on my journey.
I managed to grab hold of a passing colleague...and hold them in front of myself like a human shield and shuffle sideways....all the time keeping one eye on the spider. The colleague commented on my sweaty hands, the heat coming from my body and the grey pallor to my face.....I mumbled something about not being sick, about not having a fever, about being fine and I dashed off to get on with work.
I mean hadn't he seen the plate sized spider with the ferocious teeth waiting to leap on my and poison me with it fangs........................no?
Ok maybe he saw the one about the size of a big pea...half asleep in the afternoon sun...........
Its just a question of perspective I think.
I can cope, at a push, with leeches, although it does make my stomach turn a little when they are attached to a bit of my anatomy.
I almost like woodlouse...but the one thing I just cannot cope with is spiders.
I can cope just about with money spiders, providing they don't go on my face, and I can get them off me as soon as possible, but anything that has eight legs and is bigger than a "full stop" (period for you Americans) brings me out in a panic.
My stomach feels like its falling out as it sinks in a nano second, at the same time if feels as if it is coming up to my mouth as I feel sick, my heart pounds in my chest threatening to breakout through my ribs, my skins crawls as if covered by a million ants, and I sweat...not a lady like glow or ever a little perspiration...oh no....great big drops of sweat form on my brow, run down my back............and I am filled with the desire and need to run away as fast as I can.
There is just one problem, well two actually.
The first is that I cant run. This is not because of all the aforementioned bodily changes happening all at once, but because if I run away and leave the room, then I will not know where the spider is and then when I return to the room, it could appear at any minute............dropping down onto me...creeping up from behind...some sort of armed assault from the flank, and I will not be able to relax until I know exactly where it is.
The second problem is that I cannot kill spider. I have no problems with cockroaches, I have not problems with mosquitoes.....but anything else.............and I cant do it...........partly because they are creatures, but mostly its because of the icky sounds they make when it crushes or squelches.
So anyway...there I was faced by a big spider on the wall...the wall that I was about to walk past, the wall that I couldn't walk past...the wall I was left staring at out of the corner of my eyes, if that is possible. I don't want to look at the spider, just know where it is.
How did I get round the dilemma?
How did I continue on my journey.
I managed to grab hold of a passing colleague...and hold them in front of myself like a human shield and shuffle sideways....all the time keeping one eye on the spider. The colleague commented on my sweaty hands, the heat coming from my body and the grey pallor to my face.....I mumbled something about not being sick, about not having a fever, about being fine and I dashed off to get on with work.
I mean hadn't he seen the plate sized spider with the ferocious teeth waiting to leap on my and poison me with it fangs........................no?
Ok maybe he saw the one about the size of a big pea...half asleep in the afternoon sun...........
Its just a question of perspective I think.
Sunday, 10 April 2011
Humiliation and submission
I was exhausted yesterday after a very sleepless night, and so was very glad when my owner sent me to bed without using me in any way. I think I may have fallen asleep mid usage...........which I don't think would have bee overly impressive. Luckily he knows me so well..so off to bed I went.
In the morning I woke early after a good nights sleep, and he was waiting for me, ready to pounce.
We talked as we normally do and then he started with the questions. He knows that when he asks me too many questions that sometimes I feel overloaded. Its not that I cant cope with the questions, its the answers I find difficult. Having to face some of those things we don't like to face is difficult. He also knows if he pushes me that sometimes I get pushed into a submissive place, and give him what he wants; he knows so well how to do it, which questions to ask, how to push my buttons.
So we had questions like "Tell me the thing you miss most when you are away, the thing I do to you" or "Tell me what is the first thing you would like me to do when you get back" and other things along a similar theme.
I thought about it before I answered...... What would be the first thing?
Would it be beat the stuffing out of me?
Tie me to a post and whip me till I beg for him to stop?
Would it be to go across his knee and be spanked until my arse was on fire?
NO........................ it was.................
The thing I want him to do most of all, first off.................. is to hold me.
And as for the thing I miss the most?
Its when he strokes mt hair, almost absentmindedly, when I am sitting at his feet, or lying in his arms.
*Few little tears here:( *
But then we moved on to the "Things you don't like" list.
By this stage I had moved outside, and was sitting having a nice cup of tea in a warm breeze, enjoying the cool of the early morning.
He has never been one for showing me in public, no public displays for humiliation or similar. So when he said to me "You can choose....to stand against the wall, to get the bowl or to play with the toy where you are now" I was sort of struck silent for a moment.
"Really?" I asked.
"Really"This was not a joke.................this was for real.
He never ceases to surprise me..........and so I pondered these things in my mind, well not so much pondered them .......rather juggled with them, tossing them in the air, trying to see which was the one that made me feel least exposed and vulnerable.
This was bearing in mind that I would be able to be seen if someone was looking in my direction...not like being on the main street, but if someone was up early and looked out of the window...... there I would be.
I was sent to get the vibrator, and once more in it went.............mmm nice!
But then he made me decide................such a difficult choice, but in the end I decided to choose the bowl, drinking out of a bowl on the floor.....this would normally be my least popular choice, but under the circumstances it was, I felt, the one with the least rick of being visible.
He told me to put the bowl on the floor and to get on my knees. He told me to position the computer so he could see me lapping from the bowl.
He told me to lap from the bowl like a puppy.
Then to look at him, to take three laps and look at him , and to repeat this until he told me to stop.
Somewhere along the line, I felt myself blushing, the red heat of embarrassment and shame creeping down my neck, the thought that someone else may see me............and then when I looked at him again.
"Now make yourself cum"
So on my knees,lapping from the bowl, looking at him from under the table, I came...............silently..............when what I wanted to do was vanish...but instead I put my head down and continued to lap.
He told me to sit back on the chair, to look at him, I wanted to stay under the table and wallow in my humiliation, to wrap it around myself and cry with shame, but he talked to me. Reminded me that it was not my fault, it was not my choice, it was my job to do as I was told, he told me he knew I didn't want to do it, but the need to submit was stronger than the fear of humiliation and exposure, he reminded me he had made me do it, that I was doing it to please him, that he was pleased with me.
I wanted to crawl onto his lap and be held, to feel his arms around me, to hear his voice, but I also wanted to be left alone....to be able to get my head around how I was feeling.
He could see how I was feeling and asked if i wanted to go...... after a while he let me go, he made me eat breakfast first, he called me two or three time during the day, and sent a couple of text to tell me he loves me, to tell me I was his girl, to make me "feel" those hugs......and now I am big submissive heap.
He is away for a few days working, with little chance to contact me...but its ok.....I am good.......he has "sent" me to a place where I am safe and content to wait until he comes back.
In the morning I woke early after a good nights sleep, and he was waiting for me, ready to pounce.
We talked as we normally do and then he started with the questions. He knows that when he asks me too many questions that sometimes I feel overloaded. Its not that I cant cope with the questions, its the answers I find difficult. Having to face some of those things we don't like to face is difficult. He also knows if he pushes me that sometimes I get pushed into a submissive place, and give him what he wants; he knows so well how to do it, which questions to ask, how to push my buttons.
So we had questions like "Tell me the thing you miss most when you are away, the thing I do to you" or "Tell me what is the first thing you would like me to do when you get back" and other things along a similar theme.
I thought about it before I answered...... What would be the first thing?
Would it be beat the stuffing out of me?
Tie me to a post and whip me till I beg for him to stop?
Would it be to go across his knee and be spanked until my arse was on fire?
NO........................ it was.................
The thing I want him to do most of all, first off.................. is to hold me.
And as for the thing I miss the most?
Its when he strokes mt hair, almost absentmindedly, when I am sitting at his feet, or lying in his arms.
*Few little tears here:( *
But then we moved on to the "Things you don't like" list.
By this stage I had moved outside, and was sitting having a nice cup of tea in a warm breeze, enjoying the cool of the early morning.
He has never been one for showing me in public, no public displays for humiliation or similar. So when he said to me "You can choose....to stand against the wall, to get the bowl or to play with the toy where you are now" I was sort of struck silent for a moment.
"Really?" I asked.
"Really"This was not a joke.................this was for real.
He never ceases to surprise me..........and so I pondered these things in my mind, well not so much pondered them .......rather juggled with them, tossing them in the air, trying to see which was the one that made me feel least exposed and vulnerable.
This was bearing in mind that I would be able to be seen if someone was looking in my direction...not like being on the main street, but if someone was up early and looked out of the window...... there I would be.
I was sent to get the vibrator, and once more in it went.............mmm nice!
But then he made me decide................such a difficult choice, but in the end I decided to choose the bowl, drinking out of a bowl on the floor.....this would normally be my least popular choice, but under the circumstances it was, I felt, the one with the least rick of being visible.
He told me to put the bowl on the floor and to get on my knees. He told me to position the computer so he could see me lapping from the bowl.
He told me to lap from the bowl like a puppy.
Then to look at him, to take three laps and look at him , and to repeat this until he told me to stop.
Somewhere along the line, I felt myself blushing, the red heat of embarrassment and shame creeping down my neck, the thought that someone else may see me............and then when I looked at him again.
"Now make yourself cum"
So on my knees,lapping from the bowl, looking at him from under the table, I came...............silently..............when what I wanted to do was vanish...but instead I put my head down and continued to lap.
He told me to sit back on the chair, to look at him, I wanted to stay under the table and wallow in my humiliation, to wrap it around myself and cry with shame, but he talked to me. Reminded me that it was not my fault, it was not my choice, it was my job to do as I was told, he told me he knew I didn't want to do it, but the need to submit was stronger than the fear of humiliation and exposure, he reminded me he had made me do it, that I was doing it to please him, that he was pleased with me.
I wanted to crawl onto his lap and be held, to feel his arms around me, to hear his voice, but I also wanted to be left alone....to be able to get my head around how I was feeling.
He could see how I was feeling and asked if i wanted to go...... after a while he let me go, he made me eat breakfast first, he called me two or three time during the day, and sent a couple of text to tell me he loves me, to tell me I was his girl, to make me "feel" those hugs......and now I am big submissive heap.
He is away for a few days working, with little chance to contact me...but its ok.....I am good.......he has "sent" me to a place where I am safe and content to wait until he comes back.
Saturday, 9 April 2011
So much for thinking I had a choice
Last night was one of those nights when I just could not sleep. he tells me to ring him or text him if I wake up and want to talk to him, if I have had a bad dream and need him or for whatever reason. So I rang the first time, text the second time, IMed the third time and we chatted for a bit. The fourth fifth and sixth time I didn't bother.....just one of those nights.
This morning he was chatting to me about, of all things, hot air balloons. I am not quite sure why or how we got onto this topic, but we did. And his mind turned to rope!
He talked for a bit about how he is getting things back to how they were before, before I went home to see him, before things all collapsed in a messy heaps of tears, wet tissues and confusion.
He told me, well asked me, if I had noticed that slowly he was taking back control, that the rules were being reinforced, that his expectations were increasing, that his acceptance of any forgetfulness or avoidance was waning fast?
Had I noticed ...of course I had noticed.
A couple of times in the last week, I have noticed a different tone in his voice, a different look in his eye.
So this morning when he asked me, when he made me choose, which I hate to do....
"Do you want to be used this morning or this evening?"
I answered quickly...."This morning". Not because I particularly wanted to, but then it was over, done with and I wouldn't have to think about it all day, about what would be coming.
"Hang on " he said "If I use you this morning it wont last as long, but it will hurt more. If I use you this evening it will last longer, but will be more fun".
A difficult choice........but I still said "This morning please Sir".
So he had me get out all the toys and lay them out, to pick up each one and describe it in detail to him and to give an example of how he has used it on me before.
I then had to put the vibrator inside my cunt and turn it on full, and kneel in front of him.
There was a bout five minutes silence and then he said
"Actually....... I think I will use you tonight.......but you can cum anyway now for me".
And so I came there, on the floor, surrounded by all the toys. the toys of pain, pleasure and mass humiliation.
He sent me on the ways for the day, telling me he had a paper to finish for work, and that seeing me there was distracting him, and that I would see him tonight.
So much for choice...........all day my head has been filled with thoughts of him and his plans...
This morning he was chatting to me about, of all things, hot air balloons. I am not quite sure why or how we got onto this topic, but we did. And his mind turned to rope!
He talked for a bit about how he is getting things back to how they were before, before I went home to see him, before things all collapsed in a messy heaps of tears, wet tissues and confusion.
He told me, well asked me, if I had noticed that slowly he was taking back control, that the rules were being reinforced, that his expectations were increasing, that his acceptance of any forgetfulness or avoidance was waning fast?
Had I noticed ...of course I had noticed.
A couple of times in the last week, I have noticed a different tone in his voice, a different look in his eye.
So this morning when he asked me, when he made me choose, which I hate to do....
"Do you want to be used this morning or this evening?"
I answered quickly...."This morning". Not because I particularly wanted to, but then it was over, done with and I wouldn't have to think about it all day, about what would be coming.
"Hang on " he said "If I use you this morning it wont last as long, but it will hurt more. If I use you this evening it will last longer, but will be more fun".
A difficult choice........but I still said "This morning please Sir".
So he had me get out all the toys and lay them out, to pick up each one and describe it in detail to him and to give an example of how he has used it on me before.
I then had to put the vibrator inside my cunt and turn it on full, and kneel in front of him.
There was a bout five minutes silence and then he said
"Actually....... I think I will use you tonight.......but you can cum anyway now for me".
And so I came there, on the floor, surrounded by all the toys. the toys of pain, pleasure and mass humiliation.
He sent me on the ways for the day, telling me he had a paper to finish for work, and that seeing me there was distracting him, and that I would see him tonight.
So much for choice...........all day my head has been filled with thoughts of him and his plans...
Wide awake
Wide awake in the middle of the night.............thoughts fill my head.
Little voices.
Laughter.
Far away.
Smiling
Little voices.
Laughter.
Far away.
Smiling
Thursday, 7 April 2011
On fire
Today was one of those days that just went right.
We had a nice chat this morning, relaxed and happy. He had had a good day at work, and although my night had been disturbed by nightmares and a humongous thunderstorm, I was full of energy.
The energy level continued all day...I was on fire.
I have achieved so much today, everything went well, everything was good and now on my "downtime" I am relaxing.
He came online earlier and talked to me, and told me that I looked hot (as in sweaty, not as in "Oh my god you look so hot I could ravish you here and now" sort of hot) and I could do with cooling down. I was threatened with a cold shower, which I absolutely hate. I took sometime just to gently and politely remind him that I really didn't like them and how they make me feel physically.
He told me he was only joking, but to remember, that if he says I am to have a cold shower, then I will have one, and to remember whose choice it is.
Anyway, off he went to work and has left me to it, left me relaxing, and I am to talk to him later.
I think he is planning something...not sure what...............just having a Mary Poppins moment :
We had a nice chat this morning, relaxed and happy. He had had a good day at work, and although my night had been disturbed by nightmares and a humongous thunderstorm, I was full of energy.
The energy level continued all day...I was on fire.
I have achieved so much today, everything went well, everything was good and now on my "downtime" I am relaxing.
He came online earlier and talked to me, and told me that I looked hot (as in sweaty, not as in "Oh my god you look so hot I could ravish you here and now" sort of hot) and I could do with cooling down. I was threatened with a cold shower, which I absolutely hate. I took sometime just to gently and politely remind him that I really didn't like them and how they make me feel physically.
He told me he was only joking, but to remember, that if he says I am to have a cold shower, then I will have one, and to remember whose choice it is.
Anyway, off he went to work and has left me to it, left me relaxing, and I am to talk to him later.
I think he is planning something...not sure what...............just having a Mary Poppins moment :
Wind's in the east, mist comin' in. Like something is brewin' about to begin Can't put me finger on what lies in store But I feel what's to happen, all happened before. Oh where do we keep this information in our heads, and how do we retrieve it at what seems like the most oportune moment.........like I said....Today I am on fire.
Wednesday, 6 April 2011
10 random things about me
Following on from reading a "10 random things about me" post by Sir J (http://adominantcharacter.blogspot.com) I thought it would be an interesting exercise as to which 10 things appeared in my head if I did a similar post....so here goes.
1.When I was young, I would dream about running away and living in an abandoned barn, using straw as my bed, and waiting for the circus to come by so I could join.(I blame Enid Blyton myself). I never did, but I can juggle and ride a unicycle.
2. I can never decide which is my favourite animal; dolphin, whale or elephant. I love elephants, they smell and feel warm, they can be so gentle and strong, they look so wise. Dolphins just appeal to the free spirit in me, the leaping out of the water, full of joy, riding a wake wave...because they can. And whales....just wow.
I have had the privilege of being with all three of my favourites and still cant choose...I think I'll have three favourites.
3. My favourite breakfast is papaya, with passion fruit and lime juice on top.
4. I have lived in over 50 houses, that's more than one a year.
5. I hate the cold, but love to be out in the rain. The cold makes me cry and I will do anything to avoid getting cold. I wear bed socks even here, in 32C of bedtime heat.
6. I have traveled to Europe, Asia, Africa, Australia. I have been to the Arctic circle, the Equator, seen deserts and jungle, climbed a mountain stood on a volcano and a glacier,dived on beautiful reefs and swam off an sand bank in the middle of the ocean. I have been stopped more times than I care to remember by customs (I am "that" random person), been tested for drugs, explosives, and even once held at the end of a submachine gun by an evil looking customs man. I have been as far south as 31 degrees S, as far East as 153, but never been further West than 51 degrees West, and I have never been to the USA.
7. I love bananas...eaten straight from the plant, mashed with yoghurt, fried, warmed by the sun, ice cold...any how....... I love bananas.
8. As an adult I have had 14 cats and 1 dog. I loved my dog, but would never have another one, too hard to say goodbye if ever I had to again.
9.My favourite film is "The year of living dangerously"
10. I cry at the drop of a hat, sad things, happy things, any things. But I had two children with no pain relief, not from any misguided sense of anything, just because I didn't need it, but stub my toe and I'll howl like a baby, toothache and I will so....... weird.
Ha ha ,,,10 very random things.
1.When I was young, I would dream about running away and living in an abandoned barn, using straw as my bed, and waiting for the circus to come by so I could join.(I blame Enid Blyton myself). I never did, but I can juggle and ride a unicycle.
2. I can never decide which is my favourite animal; dolphin, whale or elephant. I love elephants, they smell and feel warm, they can be so gentle and strong, they look so wise. Dolphins just appeal to the free spirit in me, the leaping out of the water, full of joy, riding a wake wave...because they can. And whales....just wow.
I have had the privilege of being with all three of my favourites and still cant choose...I think I'll have three favourites.
3. My favourite breakfast is papaya, with passion fruit and lime juice on top.
4. I have lived in over 50 houses, that's more than one a year.
5. I hate the cold, but love to be out in the rain. The cold makes me cry and I will do anything to avoid getting cold. I wear bed socks even here, in 32C of bedtime heat.
6. I have traveled to Europe, Asia, Africa, Australia. I have been to the Arctic circle, the Equator, seen deserts and jungle, climbed a mountain stood on a volcano and a glacier,dived on beautiful reefs and swam off an sand bank in the middle of the ocean. I have been stopped more times than I care to remember by customs (I am "that" random person), been tested for drugs, explosives, and even once held at the end of a submachine gun by an evil looking customs man. I have been as far south as 31 degrees S, as far East as 153, but never been further West than 51 degrees West, and I have never been to the USA.
7. I love bananas...eaten straight from the plant, mashed with yoghurt, fried, warmed by the sun, ice cold...any how....... I love bananas.
8. As an adult I have had 14 cats and 1 dog. I loved my dog, but would never have another one, too hard to say goodbye if ever I had to again.
9.My favourite film is "The year of living dangerously"
10. I cry at the drop of a hat, sad things, happy things, any things. But I had two children with no pain relief, not from any misguided sense of anything, just because I didn't need it, but stub my toe and I'll howl like a baby, toothache and I will so....... weird.
Ha ha ,,,10 very random things.
Tuesday, 5 April 2011
Like a firework on a damp night
Last night he had me to and wait for him to come online. My instruction was to kneel on the floor, naked, with my rope on and wait for him. He was about forty minutes.....oh that floor is hard. We talked for a few minutes and had me put the vibrator in, and then we continued to chat.
He told me that I would have to ask him for permission to cum,. I responded with..."but what if I don't want to?'
It wasn't that I didn't WANT to cum, so much as I just knew that somehow my body was just not in the mood. I was tired, and he was keeping me up.
He told me that the vibrator would stay there till I asked him, and if it ran out of power the batteries would be replaced, and it would continue until I asked him.
Oh it was a tough gig...I wanted to sleep, he wanted me to cum...a little impasse....
In the end I decided if I asked, he would get what he wanted...and I would get what I needed....which was sleep.
And so I asked for permission to cum, it was granted and then I used the vibrator to do its magic, not the whole deep penetration thing ...more of the old....."Hello clit" action.
It wasn't by any means one of those earth stopping, light flashing, breath taking orgasms...more like a firework on a wet night...there...... just....a little slow to start and over in a flash.
Afterwards we talked some more and then out of the blue he said..."You know, I know when you are play acting".
I asked what he meant....and I told him..."I have never faked it, ever, not with you...ever"
Once there was one time, when no matter how hard I just couldn't cum, but that's all.
No fakery, no play acting nothing.
Not entirely sure he believed me................it was the truth......................just not a 10 on the Richter Scale.
He told me that I would have to ask him for permission to cum,. I responded with..."but what if I don't want to?'
It wasn't that I didn't WANT to cum, so much as I just knew that somehow my body was just not in the mood. I was tired, and he was keeping me up.
He told me that the vibrator would stay there till I asked him, and if it ran out of power the batteries would be replaced, and it would continue until I asked him.
Oh it was a tough gig...I wanted to sleep, he wanted me to cum...a little impasse....
In the end I decided if I asked, he would get what he wanted...and I would get what I needed....which was sleep.
And so I asked for permission to cum, it was granted and then I used the vibrator to do its magic, not the whole deep penetration thing ...more of the old....."Hello clit" action.
It wasn't by any means one of those earth stopping, light flashing, breath taking orgasms...more like a firework on a wet night...there...... just....a little slow to start and over in a flash.
Afterwards we talked some more and then out of the blue he said..."You know, I know when you are play acting".
I asked what he meant....and I told him..."I have never faked it, ever, not with you...ever"
Once there was one time, when no matter how hard I just couldn't cum, but that's all.
No fakery, no play acting nothing.
Not entirely sure he believed me................it was the truth......................just not a 10 on the Richter Scale.
Monday, 4 April 2011
We can choose to walk our own path
This post has been started four times, deleted three times and now I have just decided to write it and not self censor.
Yesterday I was thinking about my mother, it being Mother's Day and all the. I called her and wished her a happy day. She asked how I was and I replied "Good".
Her response...."No your not. you have never been good'
I said "What do you mean?"
She replied , "You are not good, you are well , but actually you are not good, you never have been. You have always been a bad girl"
"oh thanks " I said.
"well not really bad, but you have always been bad"
Nice way to end my day!
Anyway...that got me thinking about my childhood and my relationship with my parents, and the impact of this on my development and adult relationships.
I was very lucky, I had a childhood where I dint want for things, it wasn't always easy, but there was always food and clothes, somewhere to live, a house that was, on the whole, warm and cosy. I had two parents. My dad was away a lot and my mum was a "stay at home mum". I am a middle child, and I think I definately have traits of Middle Child syndrome9 ( http://lifestyle.iloveindia.com/lounge/middle-child-syndrome-5482.html).
For reasons of my dad's job I was sent to boarding school at 8. And i can honestly say for the first year I was happy and then for the next seven i hated it. I hated everything about it , i hated the silly rules, the food, the lessons, the bedroom, well i could go on with the list...but I just hated it. OI longed for the holiday and couldn't wait for term to end. Sometimes my parents were too far away in half term and so I would go and stay with my very much loved grandparents, but usually I went home
I have very little recollection of the holiday, I don't know why. Maybe its that nothing really happened in the holidays to make them memorable , maybe they were so awful i have blocked then=m out (but I don't think so ) but I just have vague memories of a few bits.
I have often thought about my relationship with my parents and my siblings. I get on better with them when I am far away. Over the years my younger sister and I have got on better and better, but my elder sister and I never have got on well.
I was always the peace maker in the family, the conciliator, the one who had to negotiate for everyone, and i still am, although as the years have passed I am becoming less inclined to , less bothered about if they don't get on and think that maybe they should sort it out themselves.
I have always loved the men in my family, both my grandads were wonderful men, very different, but equally wonderful., full of patience, kindness and both with wicked dry senses of humour. My dad is lovely, a true gentleman, in both senses of the world, full of honesty and integrity and again a sense of humour that could have you falling on the floor with yes a wry comment.
My mother on the other hand is mean spirited, seemingly generous, but under the surface completely self centered and self serving. She is cruel and unkind, divisive, manipulative and cold when challenged.
A few years ago my best friend was dying of ovarian cancer and I remember walking across a field with my dog talking to her on the phone, and she was saying how happy she was, how dying made her realise how happy she was, how lucky, and how very blessed she had been. She talked about her wonderful children, her husband, and her parents, who I have, over the years come to know and love too. She talked about how she felt the love from her mother when she told her that the treatment hadn't worked, how her mother hugged her, and for just that moment, nothing mattered, because she was so totally loved.
It was then that I realised that I never ever remember my mother hugging me voluntarily. She has hugged me back, but has never just hugged me.And for that one moment in the middle of the field, I felt the complete opposite of my friend, who was full of happiness, except I realised I am completely indifferent to my mother.
It made me take a long hard look at my own parenting skills, and made me realise that I had done a good job, in fact I have done a great job, I have two well balanced, beautiful children, who are kind and thoughtful, honest , well mannered, hardworking, polite, loving and independent thinkers . I love my kids, and they know it. maybe its as a reaction to my mothers behaviour to me, but I have always hugged my children, they know I love them, I tell them and they can see that this is true by the way I behave towards them and how we live our lives.
They are not perfect; they have gone through the grunting years, the silent months, they have had untidy bedrooms, they have been completely self absorbed as any normal teenager has to be, they have thrown major stomping fits around the house, slammed doors and locked themselves in, but they have, through all of this known that I love them, which I can honestly say i have never been entirely sure of as a child of my mother.
I know my dad loves me, he was away for a lot of my childhood, he was never a great hugger, or vociferous in his expression of love, but I KNOW he does. He has never judged me, never put me down, and has always quietly supported me in his own way.
I am not sure entirely where I am going with this post, maybe it is a continuation of yesterdays one about "mothering", maybe it is just some thinking back about what has made me the person I am, the mother I am. Maybe it is thinking about how we choose to be what we want to be, how we do not have to follow in the footsteps we are lead down, but we can choose to walk out own path, maybe its about "breaking the cycle", of whatever we perceive to be something not so good from our pasts.
Maybe its just a final admission to myself that I don't love my mother, it doesnt even make me sad any more , I just accept that that is how it is, and that to have someone love you, you ahve to do something to earn it, and keep it.
A mother's love should be unconditional, I am not so sure about a daughter's
This was a three years ago, and my friend died soon after, and at her funeranl it was filled with love and sadness, laughter and joy for the celbration of a wonderful woman, daughter, wife, mother and friend.
Yesterday I was thinking about my mother, it being Mother's Day and all the. I called her and wished her a happy day. She asked how I was and I replied "Good".
Her response...."No your not. you have never been good'
I said "What do you mean?"
She replied , "You are not good, you are well , but actually you are not good, you never have been. You have always been a bad girl"
"oh thanks " I said.
"well not really bad, but you have always been bad"
Nice way to end my day!
Anyway...that got me thinking about my childhood and my relationship with my parents, and the impact of this on my development and adult relationships.
I was very lucky, I had a childhood where I dint want for things, it wasn't always easy, but there was always food and clothes, somewhere to live, a house that was, on the whole, warm and cosy. I had two parents. My dad was away a lot and my mum was a "stay at home mum". I am a middle child, and I think I definately have traits of Middle Child syndrome9 ( http://lifestyle.iloveindia.com/lounge/middle-child-syndrome-5482.html).
For reasons of my dad's job I was sent to boarding school at 8. And i can honestly say for the first year I was happy and then for the next seven i hated it. I hated everything about it , i hated the silly rules, the food, the lessons, the bedroom, well i could go on with the list...but I just hated it. OI longed for the holiday and couldn't wait for term to end. Sometimes my parents were too far away in half term and so I would go and stay with my very much loved grandparents, but usually I went home
I have very little recollection of the holiday, I don't know why. Maybe its that nothing really happened in the holidays to make them memorable , maybe they were so awful i have blocked then=m out (but I don't think so ) but I just have vague memories of a few bits.
I have often thought about my relationship with my parents and my siblings. I get on better with them when I am far away. Over the years my younger sister and I have got on better and better, but my elder sister and I never have got on well.
I was always the peace maker in the family, the conciliator, the one who had to negotiate for everyone, and i still am, although as the years have passed I am becoming less inclined to , less bothered about if they don't get on and think that maybe they should sort it out themselves.
I have always loved the men in my family, both my grandads were wonderful men, very different, but equally wonderful., full of patience, kindness and both with wicked dry senses of humour. My dad is lovely, a true gentleman, in both senses of the world, full of honesty and integrity and again a sense of humour that could have you falling on the floor with yes a wry comment.
My mother on the other hand is mean spirited, seemingly generous, but under the surface completely self centered and self serving. She is cruel and unkind, divisive, manipulative and cold when challenged.
A few years ago my best friend was dying of ovarian cancer and I remember walking across a field with my dog talking to her on the phone, and she was saying how happy she was, how dying made her realise how happy she was, how lucky, and how very blessed she had been. She talked about her wonderful children, her husband, and her parents, who I have, over the years come to know and love too. She talked about how she felt the love from her mother when she told her that the treatment hadn't worked, how her mother hugged her, and for just that moment, nothing mattered, because she was so totally loved.
It was then that I realised that I never ever remember my mother hugging me voluntarily. She has hugged me back, but has never just hugged me.And for that one moment in the middle of the field, I felt the complete opposite of my friend, who was full of happiness, except I realised I am completely indifferent to my mother.
It made me take a long hard look at my own parenting skills, and made me realise that I had done a good job, in fact I have done a great job, I have two well balanced, beautiful children, who are kind and thoughtful, honest , well mannered, hardworking, polite, loving and independent thinkers . I love my kids, and they know it. maybe its as a reaction to my mothers behaviour to me, but I have always hugged my children, they know I love them, I tell them and they can see that this is true by the way I behave towards them and how we live our lives.
They are not perfect; they have gone through the grunting years, the silent months, they have had untidy bedrooms, they have been completely self absorbed as any normal teenager has to be, they have thrown major stomping fits around the house, slammed doors and locked themselves in, but they have, through all of this known that I love them, which I can honestly say i have never been entirely sure of as a child of my mother.
I know my dad loves me, he was away for a lot of my childhood, he was never a great hugger, or vociferous in his expression of love, but I KNOW he does. He has never judged me, never put me down, and has always quietly supported me in his own way.
I am not sure entirely where I am going with this post, maybe it is a continuation of yesterdays one about "mothering", maybe it is just some thinking back about what has made me the person I am, the mother I am. Maybe it is thinking about how we choose to be what we want to be, how we do not have to follow in the footsteps we are lead down, but we can choose to walk out own path, maybe its about "breaking the cycle", of whatever we perceive to be something not so good from our pasts.
Maybe its just a final admission to myself that I don't love my mother, it doesnt even make me sad any more , I just accept that that is how it is, and that to have someone love you, you ahve to do something to earn it, and keep it.
A mother's love should be unconditional, I am not so sure about a daughter's
This was a three years ago, and my friend died soon after, and at her funeranl it was filled with love and sadness, laughter and joy for the celbration of a wonderful woman, daughter, wife, mother and friend.
Sunday, 3 April 2011
Mothering Sunday...not just for mothers?
I was going to post a Happy Mother's Day wish to everyone who is a mother a wonderful day.........but thinking about it today I decided not to.
Thinking about the origins of Mother's Day and its basis in Mothering Sunday, a religious practice of returning to church on a given day in Lent and then later, in the UK, a holiday given to domestic workers to return home to visit families.
Also reading further and seeing the basis of it being set around the vernal equinox, made me think about all sorts of things about Spring, new life and the new year (the Narooz celebrated by Iranians as the start of the New Year and its origins based in the Zoroastrian religion of ancient Persia).
This then led me on to thinking about "Mother Earth" and then onto the whole nurturing and caring aspect of mothering.
I looked up mothering and found this definition..."to treat a person with great kindness and love and to try to protect them from anything dangerous or difficult"
And so in celebration of all that kind and caring women (and maybe it should include men) all those who care and look after those who need it....Happy Mothering Sunday.
This isn't to say that I don't hope everyone got a lie in and breakfast in bed too and are being taken out for a lovely lunch, or left to wallow alone in a beautifully scented bath with a good bottle of wine:)
Thinking about the origins of Mother's Day and its basis in Mothering Sunday, a religious practice of returning to church on a given day in Lent and then later, in the UK, a holiday given to domestic workers to return home to visit families.
Also reading further and seeing the basis of it being set around the vernal equinox, made me think about all sorts of things about Spring, new life and the new year (the Narooz celebrated by Iranians as the start of the New Year and its origins based in the Zoroastrian religion of ancient Persia).
This then led me on to thinking about "Mother Earth" and then onto the whole nurturing and caring aspect of mothering.
I looked up mothering and found this definition..."to treat a person with great kindness and love and to try to protect them from anything dangerous or difficult"
And so in celebration of all that kind and caring women (and maybe it should include men) all those who care and look after those who need it....Happy Mothering Sunday.
This isn't to say that I don't hope everyone got a lie in and breakfast in bed too and are being taken out for a lovely lunch, or left to wallow alone in a beautifully scented bath with a good bottle of wine:)
Saturday, 2 April 2011
On my hands and knees
Yesterday he told me that he wanted to talk to me later, that he was busy at work, and that I was to be awake at midnight my time and to be ready to talk.
After the morning where he had me up and out of bed before I was even awake enough to rub my eyes, I made sure I set my phone for 11.50.
He appeared online and chatted for about an hour earlier in the evening. That just didn't quite leave me enough time to go to sleep and wake up feeling like I had been asleep....if you know what I mean. So I decided to just stay awake...and therein lay the problem.
At 11.30 I can honestly say that there was a huge battle going on in my bedroom .....between me and the sandman....he approached sneakily from behind and tried hitting me over the head with the big sleepy mallet...and I fought him off.
He tried crawling up onto the bed next to me, and dusting the sleepdust into my eye and I brushed him off with a sideswipe.
He tired waiting until I was blinking and attempted to glue my eyelids shut when I wasn't looking.............and he got me...just about five minutes before the alarm went.
Anyway, the result of this hour long battle was that by the time he was online, I was yawning my head off, grumpy and not really wanting to talk to him, but just wanting to lay down, listen to some music and sleep until morning. Needless to say, this did not happen......he wanted to talk, not about anything an any great significance, not about anything earth shattering or changing, but just chat.
So we chatted...my lying in bed on my stomach and him on the sofa, the cat on his knee.
I was relaxed and happy, we were laughing and then tucked in the middle of a sentence was this.........
"I got the fence done, the bit under the oak tree in the corner had rotted, so I 'Go and get you toy, put it in, on full and lie back down how you are', the men came yesterday to do it."
I remember squinting at him, to see if I had heard right, and he just carried on talking and then said "go on".
I went and got the toy he was talking about, put it into my already wet cunt and lay back down.
He continued talking and then asked me if I could feel it...Can I feel it? What does he think I am? Dead? Who couldnt feel a great big vibrator in their cunt, doing what vibrators do best!
I laughed, he laughed too.
"On your hands and knees slave".
And on my hands and knees we continued our conversation, with me screwing up my face as I concentrated on what he was saying and and not cumming.
"Fuck yourself slave".................and still he continued talking and expecting me to answer.
And then again in the middle of some inane conversation, he told me I was allowed to cum.
And cum I did, collapsing in an "arse in the air" heap in the bed.
......and still he continued talking, telling me that I looked like I had crash landed on the bed from the ceiling.
Then he told me it was time to sleep, to go to the bathroom, tidy up and go to sleep.
I feel asleep with him STILL talking to me.............well he did say he wanted to talk.
After the morning where he had me up and out of bed before I was even awake enough to rub my eyes, I made sure I set my phone for 11.50.
He appeared online and chatted for about an hour earlier in the evening. That just didn't quite leave me enough time to go to sleep and wake up feeling like I had been asleep....if you know what I mean. So I decided to just stay awake...and therein lay the problem.
At 11.30 I can honestly say that there was a huge battle going on in my bedroom .....between me and the sandman....he approached sneakily from behind and tried hitting me over the head with the big sleepy mallet...and I fought him off.
He tried crawling up onto the bed next to me, and dusting the sleepdust into my eye and I brushed him off with a sideswipe.
He tired waiting until I was blinking and attempted to glue my eyelids shut when I wasn't looking.............and he got me...just about five minutes before the alarm went.
Anyway, the result of this hour long battle was that by the time he was online, I was yawning my head off, grumpy and not really wanting to talk to him, but just wanting to lay down, listen to some music and sleep until morning. Needless to say, this did not happen......he wanted to talk, not about anything an any great significance, not about anything earth shattering or changing, but just chat.
So we chatted...my lying in bed on my stomach and him on the sofa, the cat on his knee.
I was relaxed and happy, we were laughing and then tucked in the middle of a sentence was this.........
"I got the fence done, the bit under the oak tree in the corner had rotted, so I 'Go and get you toy, put it in, on full and lie back down how you are', the men came yesterday to do it."
I remember squinting at him, to see if I had heard right, and he just carried on talking and then said "go on".
I went and got the toy he was talking about, put it into my already wet cunt and lay back down.
He continued talking and then asked me if I could feel it...Can I feel it? What does he think I am? Dead? Who couldnt feel a great big vibrator in their cunt, doing what vibrators do best!
I laughed, he laughed too.
"On your hands and knees slave".
And on my hands and knees we continued our conversation, with me screwing up my face as I concentrated on what he was saying and and not cumming.
"Fuck yourself slave".................and still he continued talking and expecting me to answer.
And then again in the middle of some inane conversation, he told me I was allowed to cum.
And cum I did, collapsing in an "arse in the air" heap in the bed.
......and still he continued talking, telling me that I looked like I had crash landed on the bed from the ceiling.
Then he told me it was time to sleep, to go to the bathroom, tidy up and go to sleep.
I feel asleep with him STILL talking to me.............well he did say he wanted to talk.
Friday, 1 April 2011
The ouchy pegs when Im half asleep
Having had a good time last night and having drunk, which I don't often do I really hoped I would sleep well.........................and when I woke up I knew that he had plans for me; he had told me he had plans....and soIi tried to stay asleep this morning, tried to slay asleep so long that he would get bored and not want to use me, not want to exert his control, I hoped he would leave me all tucked up nice and asleep.
Did he? Did he hell!
The moment I stirred he was on my case. I had barely got my eyes open when he had me on my knees.
He asked me when I had woken up previously if I really thought that he wouldn't know, that he wouldn't see.
Damn he is good.
The next bit of the conversation went something like this:
"What are you?"
"Sleepy Sir"
"No slave, WHAT are you?"
"Tired Sir?"
"I can see this is going to take sometime"
At which point I thought I better begin to behave.
"I am your slave Sir"
"Yes you are, and just to remind you that I am in charge. I am in control of you; of your body, mind and heart. It is me who decides when you have pleasure, pain, I control how you feel and how you behave"
And with that I was sent to get the "toys".
He had me put four pegs on eat breast, ouchy ones, the ones that bite into me, and then a different one for each nipple, that squashes it into my nipple bars and always makes me gasp as I let go, the pain flooding through me. He changed his mind, and told me to remove them and put one each of the ouchy ones on the nipples. I must have looked at him in horror because he asked, "Do you have a choice?"
And this time as I put the torturous pegs on that clamped onto my nipple like the jaws of a turtle, the tears started to flow down my cheeks as I struggled to get my head round the pain. I could hear the echo of my tears from his laptop thousands of miles away.
He waited, watched as I struggled to regain my composure.
"Ready slave?"
I nodded, not wanting to move, to talk.
More pegs went on my cunt, and one on my clit.
And I knelt there waiting.
The next instruction was to get the hood, and some needles, well not some, just two. It is a while since he used needles and I wondered where they were going.
First he instructed me to put the vibrator deep inside my cunt, on full, and then to close my legs. Once more the pegs dug into my cunt, upping the pain a notch, making me begin to wish I could be somewhere else, even if it was just in my head. Every time I felt myself begin to float away, loosing touch with what was going on, my senses on overload...every time.....he would say something, ask a question, tell me to move, to keep me with him.
The TENS unit came out next and he had me attach the pad to the underside of each breast and turn it on. It started on the lowest level and over the next fifteen minute he upped it to the fifth level.
By now all I could do was follow his instructions, to listen to his voice, and keep my eyes on his..........until ..........he had me get the needles ready and then pull down the hood.
And then all I had was his voice......
He then told me I was allowed to cum, but ....when I came I was to stick the needles into my breast , just above the nipple.
As I came I pushed then both in, and then I was gone..................somewhere far away, a place filled with moments of complete peace and happiness, contentment and a feeling of "rightness".
I heard his voice ,talking me, and it was a struggle to answer him, to bring myself back to him.
I heard him tell me to remove everything,to lie on the bed, to cover myself.
I lay there, feeling loved and cared for, controlled, safe and happy.
When I woke up about twenty minutes later, he was there watching me, waiting for me to talk to him.
After asking how I was feeling, making sure everything was safely away and tidy, he said.....
"Welcome back slave, I have missed you, it's good to have you back".
And that is how I feel, I feel "back".
Did he? Did he hell!
The moment I stirred he was on my case. I had barely got my eyes open when he had me on my knees.
He asked me when I had woken up previously if I really thought that he wouldn't know, that he wouldn't see.
Damn he is good.
The next bit of the conversation went something like this:
"What are you?"
"Sleepy Sir"
"No slave, WHAT are you?"
"Tired Sir?"
"I can see this is going to take sometime"
At which point I thought I better begin to behave.
"I am your slave Sir"
"Yes you are, and just to remind you that I am in charge. I am in control of you; of your body, mind and heart. It is me who decides when you have pleasure, pain, I control how you feel and how you behave"
And with that I was sent to get the "toys".
He had me put four pegs on eat breast, ouchy ones, the ones that bite into me, and then a different one for each nipple, that squashes it into my nipple bars and always makes me gasp as I let go, the pain flooding through me. He changed his mind, and told me to remove them and put one each of the ouchy ones on the nipples. I must have looked at him in horror because he asked, "Do you have a choice?"
And this time as I put the torturous pegs on that clamped onto my nipple like the jaws of a turtle, the tears started to flow down my cheeks as I struggled to get my head round the pain. I could hear the echo of my tears from his laptop thousands of miles away.
He waited, watched as I struggled to regain my composure.
"Ready slave?"
I nodded, not wanting to move, to talk.
More pegs went on my cunt, and one on my clit.
And I knelt there waiting.
The next instruction was to get the hood, and some needles, well not some, just two. It is a while since he used needles and I wondered where they were going.
First he instructed me to put the vibrator deep inside my cunt, on full, and then to close my legs. Once more the pegs dug into my cunt, upping the pain a notch, making me begin to wish I could be somewhere else, even if it was just in my head. Every time I felt myself begin to float away, loosing touch with what was going on, my senses on overload...every time.....he would say something, ask a question, tell me to move, to keep me with him.
The TENS unit came out next and he had me attach the pad to the underside of each breast and turn it on. It started on the lowest level and over the next fifteen minute he upped it to the fifth level.
By now all I could do was follow his instructions, to listen to his voice, and keep my eyes on his..........until ..........he had me get the needles ready and then pull down the hood.
And then all I had was his voice......
He then told me I was allowed to cum, but ....when I came I was to stick the needles into my breast , just above the nipple.
As I came I pushed then both in, and then I was gone..................somewhere far away, a place filled with moments of complete peace and happiness, contentment and a feeling of "rightness".
I heard his voice ,talking me, and it was a struggle to answer him, to bring myself back to him.
I heard him tell me to remove everything,to lie on the bed, to cover myself.
I lay there, feeling loved and cared for, controlled, safe and happy.
When I woke up about twenty minutes later, he was there watching me, waiting for me to talk to him.
After asking how I was feeling, making sure everything was safely away and tidy, he said.....
"Welcome back slave, I have missed you, it's good to have you back".
And that is how I feel, I feel "back".
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