Play Party (Part II)

{Writing on a borrowed computer, which seems a little strange.}

First, there are classes.  Demonstrations.  A volunteer stands in front of us thirty or so kinky folks, facing us, attached with cuffs to the spanking post.  Her legs attached to a spreader bar, she squirms under the touch of the violet wand.   Yikes. 

 i am fascinated.

But i am still new enough to be fascinated by the idea that i’m in the same room as this many kinky people.  i’ve already met a few of them at the first munch i went to.   But there are more i haven’t met, and i’m nervous and shy, which you wouldn’t think i would be.  But i am.

i am publicly with Sir D for the first time.  We’ve never been around people either of us know before.  And many of these people know Sir D, know that’s He’s dominant.  So now they know that i’m – um, not dominant.  In fact, that i’m – you know.  Submissive.  How strange. 

It turns me on.  Makes me feel more submissive.  Acutely aware of my body, how i feel, how i look, and what my movements mean. 

Sir D is on a panel today, with some other people in the community who are seen as being knowledgable about the lifestyle.  They are showing and discussing the toys they’ve brought.  Some other people go first.   i am mesmerized by the range of toys.  The CBT toys are a new concept for me – cock and ball torture.  Really.  Whew.  i just didn’t know.  

Then it’s Sir D’s turn.   He’s a natural teacher.  Describing  His toys, he gives background, history, hints on where to get them or how to make them.  He’s been doing this a long time, and i’m impressed by his expertise.  O, and by the toys, many of which i haven’t seen before. 

Ok, this blog’s a place to tell the truth, right?  So, just between us – when He was presenting, i was so proud of Him, i was just about beside myself.  And proud of being with Him.  Ok, whole truth, i could have carried a little sign that said, “i’m with Him,” and felt good about it.  (But not a t-shirt.  i have some standards…)

Anyhow.  Enough of that.  The classes were fun and interesting and it was really cool to see that Sir D is a highly respected member of the community.   Not that i doubted it before, but you know.  Seeing it is more powerful.  

Then there was the munch.   It’s in a private room in a restaurant, but unlike the other munch i went to,it’s not very separate from the rest of the diners.  They can see us, but not hear us, and servers are in and out of the room all the time.  So we’re careful.

Again, people know Sir D;  they can make some assumptions about me.  I feel like i’m wearing a big sign that says, “SUBMISSIVE HERE.”  

 It’s a buffet type meal.  Sir D instructs me to fix his His dinner.  i am so nervous, i almost can’t carry the plate.  i pick out His food, trying not to worry that i’m making the wrong choices. 

 We’re sharing a table with seven or eight other people.  i carry the plate back, acutely aware of my body.   Carefully set it down in front of Him.  Smile at Him.  

Maybe it isn’t a big deal. 

 i feel naked.  

And tingly.  And wet.  Which i already am anyhow, because, remember, i’m still deprived of  recent orgasms.  Sigh.

And then the munch is over, and we go back to His house for a few minutes. 

 i change clothes.  “What to wear” has been a dilemna for days  (i know that’s silly, but still.)   So i’d brought a variety of clothes.  

i change my undergarments.  The carefully selected black bra with lace, lifts my breasts and barely covers the nipples.  Black panties, boy cut, but they’re a stretchy, lacy material, so when i put them on they’re practically see through.   Not that anyone’s going to see them, but they feel sexy.

Now, i pick a pair of dark jeans, a black chemise and a short sleeved black – i don’t know what to call it.   Not a jacket, not a sweater.  Just a thing that you wear over other tops.   Kind of flowing, but not too much. 

And that would have been ok, but not very exciting.  However.  There are the shoes. 

I show them to Sir D.  “Too much?”  i ask, certain that He’s going to say ‘yes.’

And he says, “Yeah, probab – i don’t know.  Let me see them.  Go ahead, put them on.  Let me see.”

So i do.

The shoe...

 

“Yes,” He says.  “Wear those.”

“Really?”  i’m delighted. 

“Yes.  i said yes, didn’t I?” a little impatient.

“Yes, Sir, you did!” 

So there i am, a kinky Cinderella, off to the ball…

**************************************************************

And i’m out of time.  i was just lucky that a friend stayed over last night, and i got to use her computer this morning.  i probably won’t be so lucky tomorrow… but maybe i can get mine working today.   Keep your fingers crossed. 

The best is yet to come.  

Um, pun intended.  {smiles}

FYI

Came home from the weekend -ready to  get on my computer and start writing  – my computer won’t come on.  Well, it acts like it’s going to come on, but the screen stays dark and nothing happens.    Arggggh.  Am using a borrowed one for the moment…  But if youall don’t hear from me for a while, this is why… 

Sadly,

aisha

The Play Party Weekend (Part I)

i’d never been to a play party before. 

i am still floating this morning.   A little overwhelmed. 

There’s so much to tell, i’ll be blogging about it for weeks.   i want to start telling my stories today – cause it was not just a play party, there were classes and a munch and THEN the play party.   So much to tell.

But i can’t back myself far enough away from it emotionally to do it.  i am still floating. 

Still floating also because i’m still at His house, trying to write this in His dining room.   All tingly when i think about last night, so many firsts piled up on each other.   Limits pushed, stretched, expanded.  And not certain what today might bring.   No wonder i can’t write it yet. 

“We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.”
— Anaïs Nin

i’m still in that first tasting.  My skin is still over-sensitive, i’m electrically charged.  All my senses are hyper-alert. 

i have already been well-fucked this morning, my pussy filled with His cock.  Each thrust of His powerful cock sent ripples of pleasure from deep in my center, the pleasure radiating through every part my body.  

And i am still “on,” still wanting more sensation.

i have tasted His cock this morning, licked and sucked and served Him.  Filled my mouth with the taste of Him.  Felt His hands in my hair, guiding me, helping me please Him.   i have tasted His cum, felt it shoot into my mouth, carefully swallowed each drop. 

And i am still “on,”  still wanting more sensation.

He laughed at me at breakfast.  i kept making little “mmmm” sounds as i ate.  But the breakfast was so pretty – yellow egg yolks spilling onto the blue plate, a bite of bacon triggering all my taste buds.  And even feeling His bare foot touch mine under the table was charged with delight.  i couldn’t help the little moans.

And now it is nap time.   i hope He doesn’t think He’s sleeping…  <smiles>

 

 

A Quote…

This is the day!  First, i’ll see Sir, which is exciting all by itself.  Then, i think, i may get to have an orgasm.  Or two.  Hot, steamy sex – my  pussy sending out waves of heat and a musky scent that mingles with His and…

Yes.  You get the picture.  But there are many things that have to happen first.  i have vanilla obligations starting at 7 o’clock this lovely Saturday morning and running til 11:30ish. 

Then i have to finish getting ready to go, which will likely involve razors and lotions, some last minute packing, and cleaning the garbage out of my car.   It would have been nice if i’d done more yesterday.  But i didn’t.  Being a perfectionist, i’ve also learned to be a procrastinator.  Makes it easier to settle for “good enough.”

All of which is to say, i don’t actually have time to blog today.   And if i did, it wouldn’t be about those things i’m not thinking about either – cocks filling my mouth, spanking benches and quirts, vibrators and tumbling over the top in an earth shattering orgasm – cause my pussy is already tingling and throbbing, more than ready for the day. 

So i’m sharing a quote instead, from Anais Nin  i read one of her books – maybe a volume of her Diary – in my youth, about the same time i was reading Story of O.   At the time, Anais also confused and aroused me.  Her story was so clearly true, much more so than Story of O.

i tried to find a picture of the book as i remember it, but that edition must be out of print.  

i still remember one scene – i guess i’m remembering this right – it’s been over 40 years ago.  She’s with her lover, who’s an artist, and apparently some of his friends.  She’s sitting on the bed.  He has her raise her skirt and he shaves her pussy.  With a straight edge razor.  It was so arousing.  Like reading one of our blogs, only published.   In a book.  A long time ago.   

Arousing and confusing, did i mention confusing?  

Anyhow.   i ran across some quotes from her recently and was amazed.  i’ve shared some of them on my vanilla social networking site, but think this one is too edgy to put there.  So i leave you with this today. 

She writes:

“I do not want to be the leader. I refuse to be the leader. I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness. I want a man lying over me, always over me. His will, his pleasure, his desire, his life, his work, his sexuality the touchstone, the command, my pivot. I don’t mind working, holding my ground intellectually, artistically; but as a woman, oh, God, as a woman I want to be dominated. I don’t mind being told to stand on my own feet, not to cling, be all that I am capable of doing, but I am going to be pursued, fucked, possessed by the will of a male at his time, his bidding.”
— Anaïs Nin

 

i’m Not…

i’m not reading anyone else’s blogs today.  No steamy, passionate encounters between Mick and Molly, or Sin and her Sir.  No stories from Nilla about cocks and cunts…  i don’t even want to read about Brooke’s NY adventures – well, i do, but not today.

i’m not writing anything that will make me hot today.  No tales that lead to shivers and a wet pussy.  Nothing in anticipation of  Sir D and His dungeon, or the activities for the weekend.  Not a word about tortured nipples or Hitachis.

And i’m not even thinking about spanking.   No way.   Not remembering the slap of His hand against my ass, the feel of Him stroking me inbetween smacks.  The sting of the yardstick, – ohhh – leaving me soooo wet and hot and pleased with my bright red ass.  No. i’m not going to torture myself that way…

…when i know i can’t touch myself, can’t cum, and i’ve got a whole ‘nother day to go before i see Him.   When i already woke up hot and wet,my pussy just begging to be touched.  When  just knowing i can’t do anything about it totally makes me not able to think about anything else.

i did e-mail Him yesterday, just to be sure i had the rule right.  Cause how stupid would i feel if i thought i was on orgasm restriction and i really wasn’t?  Exactly.  Pretty stupid.

Unfortunately, i was right.  It is always 2 days.   He said, “We’re both intelligent people.  I shouldn’t have to repeat myself all the time.”

Yes, Sir.

And just hearing that – knowing the rule is there, and that i please Him when i obey His rule, sends shivers through my body and makes my hot, wet pussy throb.  So much for all my “i’m not’s…”

************************************************************

On a whole different note – Mick pointed out that i had made a comment about getting a yardstick at The Fair on my vanilla social networking site.  That garnered an amazing number of comments on the site, which amused me a lot. 

But yesterday, while i was at work, eating lunch in our staff kitchen,  one of the younger women said, laughing, “Oh, and I loved all that stuff you had about the yardstick!  That was great!”  and for a second all i could think was “OMG – she read my blog???!!!  Yikes!” 

Then i remembered – no, she’s talking about the vanilla site, and i started breathing again.  At least i guess she was…

    

Not Ordinary

 “To think of him in the middle of the day lifts me out of ordinary living.”
— Anaïs Nin (The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1)

i am at lunch, eating in my office today, trying to catch up on paperwork.   Suddenly, i remember the feel of His hand on my nipple.  The left nipple, crushed between His thumb and forefinger.  Instantly, the memory tugs on the line that runs directly from my nipple to my pussy, and i feel heat between my legs.

i’m lying on the bed, on my stomach, stinging blows from the famous yardstick landing on my ass.  He’s careful to strike the “sit spot” more than once. 

Shifting from memory into fantasy, i’m on the spanking bench in His dungeon. 

Remember the spanking bench?

 Blindfolded again.  Ass raised a little, exposed and vulnerable.  “What is this?” He asks; i hear something whistle slightly, it lands with a sharp sting.  “O!”

“i don’t know,” i say, “i don’t know that one!”

“Yes, you do,” He says.   “Here, let’s try it again,” and He does – “O!” but-

“i don’t!  i don’t know that one.”

“Ok.  It’s the quirt,” He says.  “Quirt.  Say it.” 

And i do, even though the word doesn’t want to leave my lips, i say it.  “Quirt.”

and He says, “Good.  How many?”

“i don’t know!”  

He rubs my ass, caresses it, “Breathe,” He says, “Uh huh, that’s it, good girl.  Breathe.”  And when my breathing has calmed, He says, “Ok.  Now.”  Patiently,  “How many do you think it’ll take for you to be able to recognize the quirt next time?”

A huge wave of pleasure runs through me, sitting there in my office, in front of my computer.   Am i going to have to – you know, take care of myself?  Right here?

Back on the spanking bench –

“Five,” i say, reluctantly.  “Five, Sir, please.”

And He is still stroking my ass, and then He isn’t and – “Oh!!  One.  The Quirt, Sir,” i say.   Five times i feel the sting and say it,

“Two.  The Quirt, Sir.”  

“Three.  The Quirt, Sir.”

i’m getting wetter, squirming in my chair.  Fast forwarding the fantasy a little. 

“Good girl.”  He says.  “Do you think you’ll recognize the quirt next time I ask you?” 

“Yes, sir, i’m sure i will,” i say.  my ass is hot, i can feel the heat, and my pussy is soooo wet and hot.  The spanking bench is wet with my juices, i want to rub against it.   Press my clit against it til i cum.

“Do you want the Hitachi now?” He asks.  “Or should we try one more recognition task?”

i smile a little, “Well, of course i want the Hitachi, Sir,” i say.  “But if it would please You to try another one, then of course i want to do that.”

“Good girl,” He says.   Another shiver runs through me.  “Let me think.  Let’s -”

My phone rings.  What?  Someone at the front desk, the receptionist not sure what to tell them, can i come up there?  Sure, yes, sure, on my way…

And i park the fantasy, not sure what He’s going to decide.  Is the Hitachi waiting for me, or the paddle?  Only time will tell…

************************************************************

Yes, this is similar to nilla’s post the other day, with my own twists.  i was amazed that she’d given words to a scenario very similar to a fantasy of my own – one i’d had since long before i even knew what anything other than a hand  felt like on my ass.   More of what Mick calls Smut-ergy.

As you can see, i’m apparently over my subdrop.  Sir D was very sweet yesterday, i got a text message while i was still at work, an e-mail when i got home, and then we talked last night.  i also have adventures to look forward to.  Have i mentioned that my Sir is very sweet?  <smiles>

And i just realized – having gotten myself all stirred up writing this post – that if i’m going to see Him on Saturday, then today is two days before Saturday.  Just last weekend,  i agreed that two days is not too long to go without an orgasm before i see Him.   What was i thinking?  That was a lot easier to say when i’d just had a multitude of orgasms.

Thank goodness, i took care of myself last night. 

 

Being needy

i can’t blog today – it’s not that i don’t want to, i’m just not feeling it.   Is this – what do you call it?  There’s a term for it, isn’t there?  When you’ve been riding high on passion and living in intensely submissive space and then it’s gone…

Subdrop?  Is that it?

Sigh.

i was going to write a post today about sadism and masochism, based on a comment and question from Sin.  But it’s way too complex to do in the time i’ve got today.  

i was going to write a fantasy of some sort, but i can’t find it inside me.  Do you know what i mean?  When i try to look inside myself, in that space where i keep my sexual fantasies, there’s some kind of barrier;  i can’t quite get there.  i can almost see them, swarming all over the place, but i can’t quite feel them. 

i thought about writing about the duality i see so often – people separating their sexual, kinky selves, not just from their vanilla selves, but from their sexual vanilla selves.  That’s really interesting, but not today.

i’ve been having a covnersation with someone on fetlife about cock worship, and even thought about using that to jump start something to write about.  But i can’t find any enthusiasm for it.

Sigh.

Ok.  Maybe i need to work on being ok with where i am.  i don’t need to feel good all the time, right?   i don’t need constant attention and excitement to be ok, right?  Maybe i’m just being whiny and needy.  And you know i hate being needy.  Even when i am… 

 

How to Use a Yardstick (Part II)

All those orgasms and the pussy whipping left me happy and hungry, and Sir D too.  As He points out occasionally, that’s actually a lot of work for Him, and of course that’s the truth.  Strange to discover myself appreciative of His willingness to pussy-whip me, so to speak, and yet, here i am.  Feeling a warm, fuzzy glow about it, really, and i’m not even being sarcastic. 

So we went out for dinner, had some lovely conversation, came home and relaxed for a while, and went for a walk.  Came back hot and sweaty, ready for showers.  Ho-hum vanilla stuff, but very pleasant.

As i’m getting ready to lie down, fresh, clean and relaxed, He says, “We haven’t even used the yardstick the way it was intended yet.”  And before i can say a thing, He says, “Roll over, come on, on your stomach.”

Of course, i do, roll over, and He says, “Up,” as He slides a pillow under my stomach.  Then i’m lying there, ass slightly raised, totally exposed.

The yardstick is on His nightstand.  He picks it up, whooshes it through the air a couple of times.  He’s behind me; i can’t quite see Him.  I hear Him slap it against His hand.   My pussy clenches. 

“O, yes,” He says, “I think this ‘ll be very sting-y.”  He swings it through the air full force, as if he were batting a ball.  Yikes.  

Then He leans close to me, speaking close to my ear.  “Have you done this before?  i mean, i know you’ve had, what was it?  A belt, right?  But this is going to be different, this is wood.”

And i wish i could think, i’m trying to scroll back in my mind, but in that moment i can’t even think back.  He’s right there behind me, beside me, i can feel Him there and that yardstick right there too,  so i just say, “No, No, Sir, i don’t think i have.”  

And then He taps it gently on my ass, gently marking where it’s going to hit me, and there’s just a little –

-Whoosh – and it lands right across the center of my ass –

“Mmpf,”

and He says, “What?  I haven’t even started yet.”   O, my.

He’s taking His time at first, each stroke landing in a slightly different place, letting the sting fade a little before He strikes again.    “You do redden up nicely,” He says.  He’s covered the lower part of my ass, and i’m whimpering and squriming.   “Wanna see?”

“Yes!” of course i do. 

So i jump up and look in the mirror.  Yes, the bottom part of my ass is  streaked with bright red.  Kind of  amazing.  Pretty.

i’m smiling as i lie back down, as i lay over the pillow, offer my slightly raised ass again.  This isn’t too bad.

And then it is. 

Well, maybe not too bad.  He’s not a sadist, my Sir.  But bad enough that i’m making little noises and He’s coaching me to breathe.  Just as i’m starting to relax into it –

– and what does that mean?  i don’t know, i just know that at a certain point, i want it, i want it to go on, i want to feel it all the way… and at the same moment it’s too much and i don’t know if i can take it… and i want it so much… and at that moment –

– He pauses.  i hear a “buzzzzzzzzzz” and His hand is under me, between my legs and Omigod, the vibrator is right there, pressed against me.  Pressed against my pussy, against my clit, in that most sensitive spot. 

AND the yardstick whacks across my ass.  Again and again.   Faster.  The vibrator buzzes, i grind my hips against it, against the bed.  Aaah, o, yes.  Whoosh, whoosh, the blows from the yardstick cover my ass.  Oooo.  O. Omigod.  Pleasure.  Pain.  It’s all mixed.  Omigod.

And i’m cumming, over and over, in the middle of it all, the pleasure and the pain so mixed, i don’t even know how to tell them apart.  O.

In those moments, i am totally His.   

And then He is done.  i’m drained, laying there in a heap, unable to move.  My ass is stinging, my pussy still throbbing ever so slightly… totally satisfied.   i could almost purr. 

He holds me.  “You did good,” He said.  “Very good.”  His hand is fisted in my hair.  “I’m pleased with you,” He says. 

And i do purr.  Totally content, totally His in that moment.  Mmmmm.

***********************************************************

The yardstick will have to be kept someplace special.  It’s been too much fun, in too many ways. 

Also, check out Nilla’s post today, if you haven’t already.  

http://vanillamom.wordpress.com/

She writes a piece that’s so much like a fantasy i’ve had.  It’s my follow up fantasy to the one Sir D brought to life without even knowing it in His dungeon.  Amazing. 

***********************************************************

Sigh.  Ok.  i was going to stop there, but i have a confession.  i skipped a part to the yardstick story.  Well, it’s not exactly about the yardstick itself, but.

Go back to when i was lying there, all drained and content, drifting happily.   Before He told me i did good.  Are you there?  Ok –

i hear a click.

i know that sound.  He’s taken a picture.  Of my ass. My bright red butt cheeks have been captured, ok, not on film, it’s his cell phone camera.  But still.  Digitally recorded forever.

And some part of my brain knows that’s a limit of mine.  There’s a blog piece on it.  https://beingaisha.wordpress.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=59&action=edit  i wrote it.

And i don’t care.  i just want to see the picture.

It’s soooo cool.  My ass is bright red, all over.  Incredibly red.  i love it. i want to post it.  i do – i want to show youall  my thoroughly spanked, bright red ass.  i’m totally proud of it. 

I didn’t know i would feel this way.  i don’t even understand it.  But there it is.  My feelings have  a life of their own.

So in a few short months, i’ve gone from “Pictures?  O, never!” to “A picture?  O, cool, can i post it on my blog?”  Good grief.  Where will i end up????    🙂

How To Use a Yardstick (Part I)

My body has been saturated with pleasure; touched and stroked, twisted and pulled, carried away in waves of orgasms.   The taste of His cock, the feel of Him still in my mouth reminds me of those pleasures too.    

He was pleased with the yardstick.  i present it to Him, on my knees of course, and He is pleased.

Which pleases me, and makes me hot.  As if i’m not already hot enough  – already wet and needy, panties soaked, pussy swollen.   i can’t seem to keep my hips from moving in little circles.    He notices.

“You’re not trying to rub yourself, are you?” He asks, looking slightly appalled.

“Um, no, well, maybe,” i say, too hot and over-eager to even be embarrassed.

“Well, don’t!”  He says, “NO.”

“O, ok – yes, Sir.”

And i don’t, though i’m about ready to start rubbing against the furniture, but i don’t.  And He calms me, makes me breath, “Back it down,” He says, and i do, but o, i’m just simmering, right there on the edge of boil.

i pleasure Him first.  Undress Him, which feeds my submissive heart, makes me  feel like a harem girl, only the veils are missing.  Serving feels good.

And then, yes, my mouth on His cock, doing what i love to do.  Getting more aroused by the kneeling, Him filling my mouth, His hands in my hair directing.  Giving Him the control, bringing Him pleasure…  it makes me hot writing about it.   i’ll be sitting in a puddle soon.   

And only then, when His need has been satisfied, does He turn His attention to me.  He tortures my nipples with one hand.  Pulling and twisting til i’m whimpering, doing hip circles again, i can’t help it. 

The yardstick – remember the yardstick?  It had come to the bedroom with us.   He picks it up.

i bite my lip.

“Open your legs,” He says.  i gasp.  He says, with a smile, “Hadn’t thought of that, had you?”  i shake my head, no.

“Open, come on,” He says again, and of course i do.

The yardstick stings – well of course it does.  i knew it would, but i hadn’t imagined it stinging my poor swollen pussy.  Yikes.  i squirm and whimper, but i keep my legs open wide.

He stops for a minute, goes to his bag of tools.  Emerges with a crop.  And the Hitachi.  Oooh. 

“Pleasure.  Pain.”  He says, looking from one hand to the other.  i nod, eyes wide, legs still open.  “Or -” He pauses, reverses the order, “Pain.  Pleasure.”  Shrugs, “We’ll see.”

Mmmmpf, this is going to be interesting.

He starts with the crop.  Touches, caresses with the leather tip, ahhh, nice, and – whoosh.  whoosh, again and again.  O, it is pain, but not more than i can take.  Just as it starts to maybe be too much, the Hitachi roars into life.  O, yes!

“Just remember,” He says, “You need permission to cum.  Don’t cum without asking me.  Clear?”

i nod, yesss, of course, i know, o, please the Hitachi, Sir, please?  But i don’t say it.

And then He does, and i’m grinding against it, o, yes, yes, yes, yes – and then it’s gone and the crop is back, and o, maybe that’s yes too.  Raising my hips – o, o – and the Hitachi – o – and the crop – and then both – omigod – omigod – and

“You’re not cumming, are you?”  He says.

“O!  Yes – no – i mean…” 

“Did you forget?”  The rhythm of the crop gets a little faster, a little harder.

“O – yes, almost – O – can i??  May i cum, please?” Desperate, i don’t know what i’ll do if He says no.

But He smiles, indulgent, “Yes, you may.”

And i do, o, i do,  quickly finding that space that takes me up – up – and over the top – ahhh – tumbling down – and back up – yes, again – as the Hitachi does its thing between my legs – o, yes.  Mmmmm.  Mmmmm.

Life is soooo good.

(to be continued)

Yes, today!

i wake up this morning immediately aware of my pussy throbbing and aching for attention.  i wonder, can i cum without even actually touching myself?  If i did, would i be in trouble?   Really, it wouldn’t be my fault, would it? 

Not that Sir is big on punishment, at least He says not.  i don’t have reason to know.  Yet. 

Another shiver runs through me, my pussy clenches.    

i refocus my attention.  As best i can.

i went to The Fair yesterday.  i got the yardstick. 

i got it early, cause they said they run out every day (who’dda thought it?) and i texted Him to let Him know i had it.  He texted back “Smiles~~~~” so that was nice. 

i carried it around with me all day  – even though i actually had to go to my sister’s car once and could have left it – with barely a comment from my sister or daughter.   If they thought it was odd, they just let it go.  One of the many reasons i love them!

As i carried it, i occasionally  almost hit someone with it, or felt it slap against my bare leg – and yes, i thought of Him.   Often.

This morning, i woke up wanting so badly, i could rub against the  furniture.   But i’m not allowed to cum yet. 

So i won’t.  Won’t touch myself either. 

i shudder as i think that.  Getting wetter, hotter. 

The yardstick makes a little “wffff” sound when i swing it.  That turns me on too.  i imagine it landing on my ass, and tingle all over.   O, my. 

He could even choose not to use it today –

and my pussy gets wetter as i think that.

It’s the control, that’s what does it.   His control over  me turns me on so much – and i have the yardstick to prove it.