Do you think he is feeling better?
This was a snippet of our conversation this morning........
sir(3/4/2011 6:17:58 AM): your mine u know this
sir (3/4/2011 6:18:20 AM): I can see u how I wish
sir (3/4/2011 6:18:28 AM): do as I wish
sir (3/4/2011 6:18:57 AM): you say u feel open
sir (3/4/2011 6:19:11 AM): exposed
sir (3/4/2011 6:19:34 AM): your body is open to me at all times
sir (3/4/2011 6:20:33 AM): we have gone too long pissing around the last month with me being off my game
sir (3/4/2011 6:20:40 AM): and u feeling how u do
sir (3/4/2011 6:21:06 AM): we r going back to how it was
sir (3/4/2011 6:21:16 AM): I am sorry u may not like it
sir (3/4/2011 6:21:29 AM): but it is going to be that way
sir (3/4/2011 6:21:43 AM): that mind
sir (3/4/2011 6:21:46 AM): body
sir (3/4/2011 6:21:56 AM): soul
sir (3/4/2011 6:22:00 AM): life
sir (3/4/2011 6:22:03 AM): r mine
sir (3/4/2011 6:22:16 AM): I love u
sir (3/4/2011 6:22:28 AM): but u r my slave first
sir (3/4/2011 6:22:45 AM): that will not change
sir (3/4/2011 6:23:34 AM): I have let u have your head for too long
sir (3/4/2011 6:23:57 AM): do u have anything to say
Here was a very big silence!
sir (3/4/2011 6:25:27 AM): u will go to the gym today
sir (3/4/2011 6:25:33 AM): and do a shop
sir (3/4/2011 6:25:41 AM): if u need anything
sir (3/4/2011 6:26:32 AM): you can do this willing and have a better time or try to be the bitch slave from hell
sir (3/4/2011 6:26:40 AM): and I will show u hell
sir (3/4/2011 6:27:19 AM): I want my slave back, the 1 I love no matter what
sir (3/4/2011 6:27:44 AM): the last month
sir (3/4/2011 6:27:50 AM): I have been weak
sir (3/4/2011 6:28:16 AM): and I know how u have been worrying about me
sir (3/4/2011 6:28:26 AM): and I love u for that
sir (3/4/2011 6:30:44 AM): You say about being the bitch slave from hell
sir (3/4/2011 6:30:59 AM): and in truth
sir (3/4/2011 6:31:05 AM): I love her too
sir(3/4/2011 6:31:18 AM): but she cant be out much
I'm not sure if i feel and all over body sigh and grin , or an "oh shit " coming over me, a bit of both I think.
Things are not resolved by nay means in my mind at least, but I am beginning to wonder if that matters or not.
Showing posts with label exposed. Show all posts
Showing posts with label exposed. Show all posts
Friday, 4 March 2011
Sunday, 20 February 2011
Something else to warm my arse
Sleep evades me, the noise of the rain in the jungle keeps me awake, the thoughts in my head, the heaviness in my heart prevents me from sleeping and so I will write more of what happened when I came home.
By the time I got back into the car it was cold and beginning to get dark, I was hungry and my arse hurt. I felt dislocated and alone.I thought about what had happened that afternoon . I realised he had hardly spoken to me, that most of the time I was with him had been silent. Sometimes I talk too much and he gets irritated and makes me be quiet, where as other times, it seems to amuse him. But when he chooses silence, I am never in any doubt that that is what I must be, until he says otherwise.
The problem with silence is that it gives me time to think, and that is why I try to fill it at time, and I suppose that that he what he was doing. He was making me think. Sometimes I am told what I must think about, and other times I am left to figure it all out for myself, this was one of those times.
The past few days had been very intense and to be honest I was exhausted> I was jet lagged, I was tired from work, I was sick with a bad chest and the intensity of our time together was hard. It was good to have some time on my own, to let my mind wander, to appreciate the beauty of the scenery that was slowly disappearing in the darkness.
I felt very alone and isolated , his lack of response to me out in the open, exposed to the world, his dispassionate attitude, his coldness...all of these feeling surfaced and I began to cry. At first the tears just poured from my eyes, but then I began to sob, great big, snotty wet sobs, I felt so sorry for myself, so vulnerable, so used and humiliated. I pulled the car over, put my head on the steering wheel and cried and cried and cried.
I cried for all the night I had gone to sleep without him, I cried for each mile that I am away from him, I cried for all the times I have missed his hand on me, I cried for important days we had missed together , I even cried because I can't make him his first cup of tea in the morning. I was filled with such sadness and self pity, and I cried mostly because more than anything I want to come home, I want to stay at home.
When I realised how long I had been there, I knew I had to move, had to drive the car back. Still feeling alone, I reached for my phone to send him a text, but if was off. Had I turned it off or had he?
If he had I knew not to turn it back on again, unless it was an emergency. Was sitting , crying at the side of the road feeling sorry for myself considered an emergency?
I didn't think it would qualify.
So I sniffed a few times, and drove back to the hotel. After leaving the car I walked into reception and was told there was a package for me. I waited, but they said that they would bring it up to the room. I was expecting a package, a delivery from a company, somethings to take back for work and so I went back to the room, thinking no more of it.
When I opened the door, there on the table near the desk was an orchid in a vase, just a single orchid, pink and perfect and beautiful.....I touched it, bent to look inside it, smelt it, forgetting they have no smell. It reminded me of the orchids that grow in the jungle, attached to trees, that grow in peoples gardens, isolated in little pots hanging from hoot stuck in walls.
A knock on the door , I opened it and there was a man holding a very large parcel.
He brought it inside the room and I could see it was heavy, this was not what I was expecting.
I carefully opened the wrapping and lifted the lid from the box, inside were two packages wrapped in tissue paper.
I lifted the first from the box and pulled the tissue paper, and inside a beautiful black halterneck dress, soft and flowing, with a low cut v and a very low cut back. I put it on the bed and picked up the other package and once more ripped the paper, inside was a beautiful , darkest gray cashmere full length coat.
I slipped it on over my clothes and wrapped it around myself, I put my hands in the pockets and found a note
"Something else to keep your arse warm slave"
I lay down on the bed and began to cry again.
By the time I got back into the car it was cold and beginning to get dark, I was hungry and my arse hurt. I felt dislocated and alone.I thought about what had happened that afternoon . I realised he had hardly spoken to me, that most of the time I was with him had been silent. Sometimes I talk too much and he gets irritated and makes me be quiet, where as other times, it seems to amuse him. But when he chooses silence, I am never in any doubt that that is what I must be, until he says otherwise.
The problem with silence is that it gives me time to think, and that is why I try to fill it at time, and I suppose that that he what he was doing. He was making me think. Sometimes I am told what I must think about, and other times I am left to figure it all out for myself, this was one of those times.
The past few days had been very intense and to be honest I was exhausted> I was jet lagged, I was tired from work, I was sick with a bad chest and the intensity of our time together was hard. It was good to have some time on my own, to let my mind wander, to appreciate the beauty of the scenery that was slowly disappearing in the darkness.
I felt very alone and isolated , his lack of response to me out in the open, exposed to the world, his dispassionate attitude, his coldness...all of these feeling surfaced and I began to cry. At first the tears just poured from my eyes, but then I began to sob, great big, snotty wet sobs, I felt so sorry for myself, so vulnerable, so used and humiliated. I pulled the car over, put my head on the steering wheel and cried and cried and cried.
I cried for all the night I had gone to sleep without him, I cried for each mile that I am away from him, I cried for all the times I have missed his hand on me, I cried for important days we had missed together , I even cried because I can't make him his first cup of tea in the morning. I was filled with such sadness and self pity, and I cried mostly because more than anything I want to come home, I want to stay at home.
When I realised how long I had been there, I knew I had to move, had to drive the car back. Still feeling alone, I reached for my phone to send him a text, but if was off. Had I turned it off or had he?
If he had I knew not to turn it back on again, unless it was an emergency. Was sitting , crying at the side of the road feeling sorry for myself considered an emergency?
I didn't think it would qualify.
So I sniffed a few times, and drove back to the hotel. After leaving the car I walked into reception and was told there was a package for me. I waited, but they said that they would bring it up to the room. I was expecting a package, a delivery from a company, somethings to take back for work and so I went back to the room, thinking no more of it.
When I opened the door, there on the table near the desk was an orchid in a vase, just a single orchid, pink and perfect and beautiful.....I touched it, bent to look inside it, smelt it, forgetting they have no smell. It reminded me of the orchids that grow in the jungle, attached to trees, that grow in peoples gardens, isolated in little pots hanging from hoot stuck in walls.
A knock on the door , I opened it and there was a man holding a very large parcel.
He brought it inside the room and I could see it was heavy, this was not what I was expecting.
I carefully opened the wrapping and lifted the lid from the box, inside were two packages wrapped in tissue paper.
I lifted the first from the box and pulled the tissue paper, and inside a beautiful black halterneck dress, soft and flowing, with a low cut v and a very low cut back. I put it on the bed and picked up the other package and once more ripped the paper, inside was a beautiful , darkest gray cashmere full length coat.
I slipped it on over my clothes and wrapped it around myself, I put my hands in the pockets and found a note
"Something else to keep your arse warm slave"
I lay down on the bed and began to cry again.
Monday, 14 February 2011
Exposed and learning to accept what I am given
He took the new rope from my hands, and tied a noose at one end.
I watched him, this was the noose knot he once gave me a remote lesson on how to tie by typing instructions only to have me falling about laughing at my inability to do it, but this time I was not laughing. I was mesmerised by his fingers tying the knot, turning the new rope over in his hands, and fell very still.
He stood and walked behind me, placed the rope over my wrists and pulled it tight, , wrapping the rope between my hands, checking how tight it was.
He led me to the bed and laid me face down, pulled the rope up my back, wrapped it once round my neck, tied my feet behind me and then once more round my neck.
He returned to the chair and sat there, not moving, not speaking, just sitting and looking, watching me studying me. My face was turned towards him and I could no longer look directly at him.
I was helpless, completely at his mercy, unable to move.
He stood, walked towards the bed, never taking his eyes off my face, I sensed this rather than saw it. He rolled me over so I was on my back and now I was completely vulnerable, completely exposed.
He reached into his bag and took from it his favourite crop, the one we had bought together one sunny day last year, one he had made me carry through the shopping mall, in my hand, my face red with shame.
He laid the crop on the bed beside me.
He took the hood from the bag and laid it next to my head.
I closed my eyes and I heard the sound of him undoing his belt.
My eyes shot open.
He laid the belt across my stomach.
His hand reached towards my breasts, and he slapped them, hard, he pinched he pulled, he twisted, he flicked, he pulled some more.
He lent down and I felt his hot breath on them, his lips closing over my nipples, his tongue licking, sucking, while his hand squeezed and pinched and twisted the other one. he swapped between the two.
The pleasure of his tongue, his kisses followed by the pain and torment of his fingers.
He picked up the belt and moved it.
He picked up the crop.
He began tracing the end of the crop over my nipples; teasing them, tapping gently, down my thighs , up the inside of each leg till I almost longer to feel it on my wet and now desperate cunt.
I closed my eyes and let the feelings of vulnerability of openness flood over me, fill me with happiness.
Whack
He brought the crop down over one tit.
and again over the other.
I struggled, the rope tightening round my neck, realizing that his hand held the other end, I knew that he could feel exactly how tight it was, he was watching , looking and checking.
Again and again I watched him raise the crop, again and again I felt it crash into me; biting pain, hot searing pain, head filling, crying sobbing pain.
The rope around my neck felt tight, I began to panic I bit, i tried to tell him it was too tight, he looked and shook his head. I had to focus on being calm, not fighting,...on accepting what he was giving me, accepting the pain from him, accepting ...........
I remember him putting the crop between my teeth as he picked up his belt. I watched him hold the buckle and wrap it round his hand
I remember the noise, the crack it made as he pulled it.......... and I remember the first time it hit me...................and I remember watching his arm, not the belt, just his arm.......................
His hands gently lifted my head and unwound the rope from my neck, I felt his hands on mine as he untied the knots, his arms as he carefully moved my arms to my sides and as he lifted me from the bed, and wrapped my favourite blanket from home around me. He wiped the tears from my eyes, kissed them away, he told me he loved me, he told me I was a good girl, that he was proud of me.
He held me close, talking about what he had done to me: about the rope, how he had tied it, how it looked behind my back. He described how the crop had marked me across my stomach, my tits, how my thighs were marked by the crop and the belt, he talked to me about how my cunt had dripped after he had used the crop on it and the belt. He talked about how I had cried out, moaned and whimpered, how he had watched me struggle and how I had fallen silent, by body open to him, my cunt exposed, my nipples hard and erect, and how I had become still............... and how I had accepted what he had given me.
He touched me so gentley where he had hurt me, kissing each welt, slowly undoing the blanket, laying me out once more on the bed.
His fingers tracing along the marks he had made, his fingers exploring my cunt , probing, thrusting, opening, and this time allowing me to feel pleasure, holding me on the edge of orgasm, and once more he wrapped me in his arms, and held me tight as he made me cum......a deep, all encompassing, all over body and mind , flashing lights, music in the ears orgasm.
I had a complete overwhelming submissive feeling come over me and begged to be allowed to be at his feet once more, so smiling me released me from his arms and more or less poured me onto the floor, he covered me with my blanket and there I drifted off to sleep, wrapped around his feet, holding onto his leg, my hand inside his jeans touching him, while he finished some work.
When I woke a few hours later, he once more put my rope on, took the other end in his hand, and pulled me into bed, and there we fell asleep...................... together .........me on the end of his rope .......... where I belong...
I watched him, this was the noose knot he once gave me a remote lesson on how to tie by typing instructions only to have me falling about laughing at my inability to do it, but this time I was not laughing. I was mesmerised by his fingers tying the knot, turning the new rope over in his hands, and fell very still.
He stood and walked behind me, placed the rope over my wrists and pulled it tight, , wrapping the rope between my hands, checking how tight it was.
He led me to the bed and laid me face down, pulled the rope up my back, wrapped it once round my neck, tied my feet behind me and then once more round my neck.
He returned to the chair and sat there, not moving, not speaking, just sitting and looking, watching me studying me. My face was turned towards him and I could no longer look directly at him.
I was helpless, completely at his mercy, unable to move.
He stood, walked towards the bed, never taking his eyes off my face, I sensed this rather than saw it. He rolled me over so I was on my back and now I was completely vulnerable, completely exposed.
He reached into his bag and took from it his favourite crop, the one we had bought together one sunny day last year, one he had made me carry through the shopping mall, in my hand, my face red with shame.
He laid the crop on the bed beside me.
He took the hood from the bag and laid it next to my head.
I closed my eyes and I heard the sound of him undoing his belt.
My eyes shot open.
He laid the belt across my stomach.
His hand reached towards my breasts, and he slapped them, hard, he pinched he pulled, he twisted, he flicked, he pulled some more.
He lent down and I felt his hot breath on them, his lips closing over my nipples, his tongue licking, sucking, while his hand squeezed and pinched and twisted the other one. he swapped between the two.
The pleasure of his tongue, his kisses followed by the pain and torment of his fingers.
He picked up the belt and moved it.
He picked up the crop.
He began tracing the end of the crop over my nipples; teasing them, tapping gently, down my thighs , up the inside of each leg till I almost longer to feel it on my wet and now desperate cunt.
I closed my eyes and let the feelings of vulnerability of openness flood over me, fill me with happiness.
Whack
He brought the crop down over one tit.
and again over the other.
I struggled, the rope tightening round my neck, realizing that his hand held the other end, I knew that he could feel exactly how tight it was, he was watching , looking and checking.
Again and again I watched him raise the crop, again and again I felt it crash into me; biting pain, hot searing pain, head filling, crying sobbing pain.
The rope around my neck felt tight, I began to panic I bit, i tried to tell him it was too tight, he looked and shook his head. I had to focus on being calm, not fighting,...on accepting what he was giving me, accepting the pain from him, accepting ...........
I remember him putting the crop between my teeth as he picked up his belt. I watched him hold the buckle and wrap it round his hand
I remember the noise, the crack it made as he pulled it.......... and I remember the first time it hit me...................and I remember watching his arm, not the belt, just his arm.......................
His hands gently lifted my head and unwound the rope from my neck, I felt his hands on mine as he untied the knots, his arms as he carefully moved my arms to my sides and as he lifted me from the bed, and wrapped my favourite blanket from home around me. He wiped the tears from my eyes, kissed them away, he told me he loved me, he told me I was a good girl, that he was proud of me.
He held me close, talking about what he had done to me: about the rope, how he had tied it, how it looked behind my back. He described how the crop had marked me across my stomach, my tits, how my thighs were marked by the crop and the belt, he talked to me about how my cunt had dripped after he had used the crop on it and the belt. He talked about how I had cried out, moaned and whimpered, how he had watched me struggle and how I had fallen silent, by body open to him, my cunt exposed, my nipples hard and erect, and how I had become still............... and how I had accepted what he had given me.
He touched me so gentley where he had hurt me, kissing each welt, slowly undoing the blanket, laying me out once more on the bed.
His fingers tracing along the marks he had made, his fingers exploring my cunt , probing, thrusting, opening, and this time allowing me to feel pleasure, holding me on the edge of orgasm, and once more he wrapped me in his arms, and held me tight as he made me cum......a deep, all encompassing, all over body and mind , flashing lights, music in the ears orgasm.
I had a complete overwhelming submissive feeling come over me and begged to be allowed to be at his feet once more, so smiling me released me from his arms and more or less poured me onto the floor, he covered me with my blanket and there I drifted off to sleep, wrapped around his feet, holding onto his leg, my hand inside his jeans touching him, while he finished some work.
When I woke a few hours later, he once more put my rope on, took the other end in his hand, and pulled me into bed, and there we fell asleep...................... together .........me on the end of his rope .......... where I belong...
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