Mean?

His whiskers scrape across my nipple,

back and forth.

He watches my nipple turning red,

watches thoughtfully,

with interest.

He sucks the nipple,

pulling it gently into His warm, wet mouth

soothing the pain

then, sharp as tiny knives,

whiskers scrape again.

Laughing, 

i say,

“Ow, oooh, ow, that hurts…”

and He smiles.

“Mean,” i say, giggling,

“That’s just mean.”

“Mean?” He says, quizzical.

“You think that’s mean?

And when i nod, still smiling, 

“Yes, Sir, a little mean,”

He smiles too,

“You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

i Needed That…

My Sir has been working every day for three weeks.   Not just a little bit, but long hours every day.  Yesterday was not an exception.

So it was after 7:00 when He got to my house.  i had cooked ~ pasta, which is what He’d asked for, even though it’s not on my diet.  But i made eggplant parmesan, following the recipe that is on my diet, for me.  

i used the same sauce for both, starting with a tomato-basil-garlic jar of sauce, and adding sautéed mushroom, onion, and meatless meat.   The eggplant was done, and i let the sauce for His pasta simmer while i waited for HIm.  Then it took just a few minutes to cook the pasta ~ angel hair.

We had a small side salad.  i had gotten some fancy, organic thousand island dressing, which is what He likes, but forgot to ask Him if it tasted any better than regular.

i made some chocolate covered strawberries, which He likes a lot,  for dessert.

i burnt the first piece of garlic bread i put in the oven ~ just got sidetracked and forgot about it ~ but threw in another piece and managed not to burn it.

When cooking is part of my service to Sir, i’m a little awkward with it.  Christmas dinner for 15 takes about the same amount of fussing, in my mind anyhow.  Fretting about whether or not He’ll mind fake meat, whether or not i should get whole wheat pasta, forgetting to put the wax paper on the plate before i do the  strawberries, and feeling upset because they’re going to stick to the plate….

… most of which are things that He’s not going to notice or care much about.

Sheesh.  

But there is pleasure in it too, even in the fussing over it.  Not as much pleasure as there is in, um, cock worship,  for example, right?  Probably not as much pleasure for either of us.  But still.

He is tired, and is not eating well, and wanted pasta, and it is my pleasure to provide what He wants and needs in a way that pleases.

After dinner. after dessert, we sit in the living room.  i start a fire in the fireplace, and sit at His feet.  

He puts a collar on me, the one with the padlock.  i love the sound of the lock clicking closed.  

He removes my shirt.

He plays with my nipples, teasing and tweaking til they are tender, a little sore.  

He shows me a new knot He’s learned ~  tying my wrists, the rope encircles my wrist, and wraps around my hand.  He ties it so there’s a knot in the palm of my hand so that ~

~ when He has led me to the door, and my arms are pulled high, suspended over my head, there is a knot for me to hold on to.  It is comforting as He exposes my ass,

and begins to spank, quickly turning it pink with His hand.  

Then the flogger…

And then the spoon.  The heavy wooden spoon that lands with a THWACK, leaves a stinging tingle and a red circle…

followed by the rope ~ ah!  O, it stings and burns… and while He’s doing it, He’s pinching a nipple ~ well, and doing that when He was using the spoon too,

so i am turned on and gasping from pleasure and pain.  Whimpering.  When His hand probes between my legs, i am so wet, it makes Him smile.

“Yes,” He says, “Good.  Good girl.”

And when He unties me, leads me to His workbench, bends me over it, fastening my hands so i am draped, head down, almost on my toes…

and His hands probe and rub, caress until i’m cumming, cumming so hard i ~

am embarrassed to tell you about the puddle i leave on the floor under me.  Yikes.

And then He unties me and takes me to bed.

He spends the night, next to me, i can feel Him behind me, and around me.

i sleep with my collar, and when i half-wake in the night, i feel the padlock, resting heavy in the hollow just under my throat.

After Starbucks

i’m familiar with this particular Starbucks, i’ve stripped in this bathroom before.  i move quickly.  

Order coffee, hit the bathroom and i’m out of my panties in moments.  Wearing a skirt this time makes it easier than when i was already there in my blue jeans and got the instructions.

The air outside is cool, but not too bad, and my nakedness under the skirt feels right.  i drive quickly, confident i can find His house.

From the driveway, i see the scene is set.

There is the coffee table, the one i was tied to before.  In the center of the table is a sturdy wooden spoon.

My pussy clenches.

O, my.

i ‘m so impressed, i want a picture of it.  It turns out horrible, but here it is:

You can see, we tried to light it without using the flash.  Which didn’t work at all.  

And then i get distracted and don’t care about a picture anyhow.

But you can see what a big, solid spoon that is!  And just the lightest tap leaves marks on my poor butt, as i discover when He bends me over the table, alternates between His hand and the spoon.   

The marks are gone today, but my nipples are still tender from the torture He inflicts on them.  

He’s working on binding my breasts with rope, but when it doesn’t go the way He wants, He stops.  He concentrates on clamping my nipples, pulling and tugging them.

When i moan, comment that it hurts, He raises an eyebrow.  “When i was being nice to this nipple,” He says, looking at the nipple He’s grasped tightly between His thumb and index finger, “You were complaining that this nipple was bored.”  He tugs upward, raising my breast.  “Do you remember that?”

“Yes, Sir…”

“Do you want to go back to that?   i can just leave this nipple alone.”

“No, Sir…” reluctantly i drag the words out.

And He redoubles his effort to squish the nipple completely… while i moan and whimper.

He moves me like a puppet ~ bend here, sit there, open wider…  The Phallus is cold, but not for long.

i am sated before He allows me to please Him.  i am learning the ways that He likes, and enjoy the pleasure He takes in using me ~

til we end cuddled on His couch, His arms around me, my body wrapped around  Him.

Mmm.  So content.

Subspace? (Part 1 & 1/2)

Donna, who writes for Under Contract to My Wife sometimes, sent me this information a while back.  i’ve been hanging on to it ’cause i knew it would come in handy someday, and today’s the day.

What she sent me comes from the following blog:

http://freethoughtblogs.com/pharyngula/2011/08/06/how-am-i-going-to-fit-an-mri-in-the-bedroom/

The research reference is here:

http://www.newscientist.com/article/dn20770-sex-on-the-brain-what-turns-women-on-mapped-out.html?DCMP=OTC-rss&nsref=online-news

Here’s what Donna sent me:

How am I going to fit an MRI in the bedroom?

from Pharyngula by PZ Myers

Maybe you’ve seen this before: it’s a diagram of the sensory and motor cortex of the brain, with a little man or homunculus drawn over it to illustrate the somatic areas associated with each region. You see where the little man’s knee is on the left image of the sensory cortex? Stick an electrode in there and zap it, and a patient/victim will feel a sensation in his knee. Put the patient in an MRI and tickle his knee, and that region of the brain will light up. Cool, huh?

{Sorry, the diagram won’t copy onto the blog, you’ll have to go to the original post…}

Another cute feature: look in the medial longitudinal fissure. You see the homunculus’s toes, and right down there, located beyond the toes, is where the genital sensory area is located. Poke at that with an electrode and…we’re talking happy time at the Mad Scientists’ convention. But notice, though, that in the diagram of the homunculus, the poor creature’s genitals are drawn, and they’re male. It’s a bit sexist, don’t you think?

This bias has now been corrected.

a team led by Lars Michels at University Children’s Hospital in Zurich, Switzerland, used functional magnetic resonance imaging to confirm that the position of the clitoris on the homunculus was in approximately the same position as the penis in men. Barry Komisaruk at Rutgers University in Newark, New Jersey, and his colleagues have now used the same method to map the position of the clitoris, vagina and cervix on the sensory cortex as women stimulated themselves.

I read these things, and I think to myself that I really went into the wrong research field. Oh, well.

They also discovered something else.  

Komisaruk also checked what happened when women’s nipples were stimulated, and was surprised to find that in addition to the chest area of the cortex lighting up, the genital area was also activated. “When I tell my male neuroscientist colleagues about this, they say: ‘Wow, that’s an exception to the classical homunculus,’” he says. “But when I tell the women they say: ‘Well, yeah?’” It may help explain why a lot of women claim that nipple stimulation is erotic, he adds.

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

Big scientific breakthrough, right?  Well, except for all of us who’ve been saying “there’s a direct line from my nipples to my pussy,” all these years.

Does the research make our experience more valid?  Not really, but it’s clearly more persuasive for those who haven’t experienced it.

i think our experiences and descriptions of subspace are equally valid, and i’m loving the comments on the first part of this.  If you haven’t read them yet, go back one post and check it out.  

More on this later…

And In the Morning

i’ve got so much to say and so little time…

i was a tiny bit concerned yesterday as i was reading the comments ~ which i haven’t had a chance to respond to yet.  But i thought ~ youall were so happy for me, what if it went terribly wrong?

And for just a moment, i imagine the worst possibilities ~ not that i thought Sir X would turn out to be a serial killer, but maybe i would be dreadfully disappointed, or that He would be.  That all your well wishes would have been for naught.

And then i thought, yeah, and if that happens, they’ll all be really disappointed right along with me, sympathetic and supportive.

So i quit worrying about that and worried about whether or not i’d be able to finish straightening the house, prepping dinner, and getting myself ready in the 45 minutes between when i got home and he was due.  Fortunately for me, traffic was bad, he ran late, and i made it.  So~

 Everything is just about ready when He gets here.

i’m wearing, as He had instructed, a shirt that buttons down the front.  The nipple nooses are nearby.  

Actually, my shirt is an oversize black, sort of silky shirt, with three quarter length sleeves that are gathered up by a strip of material that buttons on the outside of the sleeve.   Under it, i’m wearing leggings in a denim color.  Black wedge heels.

He is pleased.

After dinner, we sit on my couch, which is actually a love seat.  i think it’s symbolically significant that my furniture is new and i haven’t “used it” with anyone else.  Ok, maybe that’s silly, i just like the idea.   

So, we have been kissing, and touching.  He’s wearing a blue shirt, also one that buttons down the front, and it’s soft.  i like the way it feels.

Then ~~

~ He unbuttons my shirt.  Releases my breasts from my bra, and has me put the nipple nooses on.  He watches with interest as i loop the cord around a nipple, tighten it carefully.

i will wear them for the rest of the evening, although He doesn’t tell me that.  

They don’t really hurt, they do keep my nipples extended.  From time to time, they send a tingle straight from nipple to pussy…

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

Omigoodness, i can’ t possibly do this experience justice, it’ll take me days.  i still have to exercise, pack for COPE, go see a couple of clients ~ with some errands to run first.  There is never enough time for all the things i want to do…

Ok.  Let me leave you with this thought.  He has great hands, firm and gentle.  And He’s generous with His touch.  Throughout the evening, His hands caress and stroke me… keeping me aroused… making me whimper and moan.

Sigh.

i could have played all night…

{To be continued}

More on Nipples

Yesterday,  i should have waited to finish my post until i had taken off the little loops on my nipples  – cause o, yikes.    As i had feared the previous day, it was difficult to get a fingernail under the loop to loosen them ~

~~ leading to some tense moments.  i thought about calling the firefighters, as Sin suggested, but instead i tugged and pulled on them til i got them off.

Whew.

Interestingly, even though they don’t hurt a lot, the sensation lasts for a long time.  So even a half hour later, in the shower, when the water hit my nipples, i could still feel the slight discomfort, which was quite pleasant.

When i put my bra on, the material brushing against them, brought the feeling back.  

And really, they stayed hard for a long time.  It was interesting.

i’m wearing them again this morning, since He asked me to play with them.  i find myself tightening them more, seeking a more intense sensation.

And i think about how clever He is, to approach it this way.  He could have given me detailed instructions on how long to use them, how tight to make them, how many times to play with them.  

But no.

“Play with them,” He says.  “I’ll want a critique.”

And instead of being focused on some tension between His instructions and my feelings, i’m all focused on my feelings.

Discovering that i want some pain, That maybe these little nipple nooses, as he calls them, aren’t quite ouchy enough.

But then i think about the other clamps he showed me ~ not alligator clamps, C-clamps.

And i imagine my nipple, crushed between the two pieces of metal ~ o, it would be cold too, wouldn’t it?

O.

And the chain dangling between them ~ it’s a thick chain…

and i’m pretty sure that would be too much.  At least right now.

But one thing i’m learning about Sir X, He’s taking His time, leading me so smoothly there’s no question of resisting.  

He’s subtle.

Gentle.

Firm.

He’s quick to give feedback, lots of stroking, lots of warmth, very specific, detailed praise ~ and the occasional correction.  

As i write that, i can picture Bob scoffing at it, making some snarky comment about my neediness.  And that’s ok. 

i know what’s happening.  As Sir X talks to me, messages me,  i can feel myself being drawn into His control.  Beginning to trust Him.

Wanting to please Him.

Sigh… i can’t wait for tonight.

The Second Gift

Because i did so well with the first gift ~ the little rope thing that looked like a person, but wasn’t ~ Six X gave me a second gift.  Here it is:

Not a great picture, with the shadow of my head on it, but still, you get the idea, right?

This is much thinner rope, and i have a feeling it could hurt more, and could be harder to get off.  And ya’all know how much anxiety i have about that.

i’m wearing them now, as i write this.  At first, of course, they didn’t hurt at all, so i’ve been tightening them up, little by little.

i seem to have a reached a reasonable stage of ouchiness.  The right one in particular is quite uncomfortable now.

As i suspected, just a tiny degree of tightness greatly increases the extent of discomfort.

O, yikes.

The nipples are swelling a little, sinking the fine rope deeper into the flesh.  

Hmmmm.

It hurts, and of course it feels good at the same time, and is turning me on quite a bit.

It’s funny, like the other one, the pain seems to come and go.  This is very different from my experience with other clamps ~ well, i guess these aren’t clamps, are they?

But with clamps, it becomes almost unbearable very quickly, and i just want them off- off – off, please, off.

Sir X has some metal ones with a chain between them ~ the clamps look like some kind of thing you’d use on your car.  Ok, maybe not your car, but some kind of machinery.  They scare me just looking at them ~ the chain would be so heavy!

He just laughed, “you think that’s heavy?” He said.  “Wait til you put some weights on them.”  And i thought about Sin and the tennis shoes ~~ yikes!  Noooooo….

But for now, i have these lovely rope things on.  The pain is sort of coming and going and it’s not too bad at all.

And there is that direct line, you know, the one that runs from my nipple to my pussy.

Sigh….

i also notice that i can’t think about much else right now…  

i took a couple of pictures to send Sir X {which makes me laugh, when i remember how adamantly i was against pictures just a year or so ago.}  But He’ll like them, and i like that.

This is an amazing sensation.  i could wear these for a long time…

Ok, i gotta go.  Gotta get ready for work. i’m glad tomorrow is Thursday…

Show and Tell

So we meet at 2:30, Sir X and i.  Go to Starbucks for coffee and to start the Show and Tell.  {Noooo, not that kind of show and tell.}

His show and tell is a picture on His phone ~ of a shoe horn.  A long-handled shoe horn.  

The “tell” goes like this:

He has a coffee table, and was thinking you could tie someone to it.  That it would serve well as a spanking bench.  

Then He realizes the angle would be wrong if He were using a belt.  The height, the way the person would be tied, it just wouldn’t work. 

Then He sees the shoe horn.  He realizes that if He used that, the angle wouldn’t be a problem. 

Of course, it is a mean looking shoe horn, something like this:

Yikes.

He has also brought a bag of toys, but we don’t look at those in Starbucks; that comes later.

So i had actually brought a card with an Anais Nin quote on it ~ the one that goes:

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”  ~ Anais Nin

because i think of that as part vanilla and part kink.  We talk about what it means to me.  He likes it.

But then it occurs to me that i actually have something else to show Him.  {Ok, quit laughing, i know, there are lots of other things i could have shown Him, that’s not what i mean.}

No, on Sunday, when i was practicing with the small gift He’d given me, for some reason {don’t ask me why, i don’t know} i’d taken a picture of my nipple with the little rope wheel-person around it.  i think i’d had some thought of using it on here, but discarded that idea.

Anyhow, sitting there in Starbucks, it occurs to me that the nipple shot might make a nice show and tell.  So a little shyly, i pull my phone out.

“And then there’s this,” i say.

As i’d hoped, He seems pleased with it.

And then, coffee in hand, we embark on a series of adventures.  i won’t detail them all ~ but the theme for the day is “doing private things in public places.”  

Just a few minutes of one thing, then on to the next.  “Like a sampler plate,” He says.

i giggle.

There was a park picnic table and His toy bag.   Ropes and cuffs and collars and such…  very nice.

There was a public building and the multi-sex bathroom on the second floor.  The kind that doesn’t have stalls, but just one big room.    Private enough for a few minutes of kinky exploration.

But then He opens the door to “make sure it’s clear,” ~~

~~ and leads me out right past some man waiting to get in.

i’m too embarrassed ~ and we’re moving too fast ~ to see the man’s face, i can only imagine.  But i giggle all the way back to the car.

There are a couple of more stops before dinner, including a cemetery, and some tasks for me, but i’ll leave that to your imagination for now.

Dinner with Ms. Constance and Drew, J, and Tammy was lots of fun, and if i consider how much Domly energy there was at the table, it’s a wonder that Drew and i weren’t crushed.

{laughing…}  

Except really they aren’t like that at all, well, not last night anyhow, and Sir X and i both had a good time.

And yes, we’re seeing each other again.  Thursday night.

Friday i go to COPE.

And in 30 days, ‘Nilla will be here.

Life is good.

O, i almost forgot to tell you ~ Sir X gave me another gift.  Since i practiced successfully with the one rope noose thing-y, i get to keep that one, and i have something else to try.  i’ll tell you about it tomorrow… 

The Major (Part VI)

i barely have time to register that i look horrible and The Major is there watching me.  Diana leads me into some yoga positions that are not uncomfortable, but ~ ok, well, they stretch me a little bit.  So i’m focused on trying to follow her lead, and not completely embarrass myself in front of them all.

That isn’t easy; this is all unfamiliar to me. But her voice is soothing and assures me that i just need to do what i can.  And then the yoga takes over, and my mind is stilled as i find that place inside myself where i’m centered and everything is ok.

We finish, and i am enjoying the sense of peace, when the clock chimes again.  Diana looks at me expectatntly, and The Major is watching me too.

i’m almost frozen, jarred out of a sense of calm, i become aware of my appearance.  Sweaty, disheveled, nipples and pussy exposed.  And now i’m supposed to pull on my own nipples, in front of Him.  

i want the floor to open and swallow me.

But it doesn’t, and now they are all looking at me expectantly.  i know i need to do it, but i can’t, i just can’t.

The Major leans forward.  “You’re having a  hard time with this?” He asks, and his voice is calm and kind.

i can only nod.

“That’s ok,” He says.  “I guess it’s pretty hard to have to pull on your own nipples, to keep them hard for Me.  That’s ok.  We can talk about that later.  Selena, put the clamps on her, please.”

i make a little noise, i can’t help it.  

“What?” He says, and i shake my head, “But ~ i didn’t mean ~ i don’t need ~ not..”  

He nods.  “Don’t worry.  Anything that’s difficult for you, we can find a way to help you with it.  Now, go ahead and pull on your nipples so the clamps will go on easy.”

i realize that it’s easier to do when i’ve been ordered, although i still feel myself blushing.  i tug on them, and He says, “Harder.  Do you want Me to have to do it?”  

Selena returns with the clamps.  She takes my left nipple in hand, tugs harder, and slips the clamp on.  It looks like tweezers, and she slides the clasp up it until i’m uncomfortable.  

She repeats the process with my right nipple.  

“Pretty,” she says.  “Look.”  She turns me toward the mirror, and i see my nipples, clamped, sticking out of my bra.  It looks like the clamps are designed to keep them fully exposed.  They are already a little more uncomfortable.

“Just five minutes,” says the Major.  “Five minutes out of every 15.  It’s not how long they’re left on that matters, putting them on and taking them off are the ~” he pauses and smiles, “the instructive parts.

“Now that your nipples are being stretched, so to speak, let’ s see what else we can do.  Diana, why don’t you take the slut to the bathroom, and Selena and I will get things ready.”

i don’t want to leave, i want to know what’s going to happen, and “What?” i say it without thinking.  “What are you going to do?”   i am trembling, the clamps hurting more, but i feel better for asking.

He looks surprised.  “What difference does it make?  If you don’t want to do it, you’re free to leave.  You know that.”

“But,” i hang my head, “i just want to know.”

“Of course you do,” He says.  “Diana, would you take her to the bathroom please?  One more minute on the clamps.”

Diana leads me out of the room.

She removes the clamps when we get to the bathroom, and the clamps hurt as much coming off as they did going on.  As the blood rushes back into them, i whimper.

She leaves me alone in the bathroom for a few minutes, which is a relief.  Then she has me remove my shorts, and spread myself over the bidet while she cleans me.   She takes my bra off and wipes me down, getting most of the sweat off. Dries me and rubs a little lotion on.

My hair is a mess, and i use the brush laying on the sink.  It’s not a great improvement, but better than nothing.

“Come on,” she says.  “Time to get back.”

The chimes start ringing just as we enter the room.   Standing in front of The Major, a woman on each side of me, and they’re all looking at me again.

Selena is holding out a different pair of clamps.

“O!” i say, quickly pulling on my nipples.  i think these are clover clamps,  i wonder if they will feel different.

Selena puts them on, and i whimper.   They hurt a lot.

“First Postion,” says The Major, and, distracted by the pain in my nipples, i don’t respond immediately.  He raises His eyebrows, and i realize what He’s said.  

Quickly, i kneel, arrange my body as i’ve been taught.   “Yes, Sir.”

“Very nice,” He says, “Once you got there.  That’s three for being slow to respond, but you get full credit for your posture.” 

Selena is holding a black velvet ribbon, about a quarter inch wide.  She picks up three circular metal pieces, each one has a hole in the middle. She slides them on the ribbon, and then stands behind me to fasten the ribbon around my neck.

i can feel the metal pieces weighing down the necklace, feel them cool against my skin.   

“A reminder,” He says, “of what you have coming.”  

A shiver runs through me.  

“Now,” He nods to Diana, who takes the nipple clamps back off.  Yikes.  

When she’s finished, He says, “Second Position, please.”

i remember to respond, and lean forward, stretching my arms in front of me, raising my ass in the air.

Diana kneels behind me, and i feel her hands part my cheeks further.  Selena joins her and i feel an oily substance, some kind of lubricant being rubbed in the crevice between my cheeks, her finger sliding it into my asshole.

i moan.  It feels good, which surprises me.

Then they both step back, and The Major is behind me.  He is holding something.

Home Is Good Too

Isn’t that the always the way?  You don’t want the fun to be over, and then you get home and that’s good too.

Not only is it nice to get home to my cats and my own space, but i have a laptop Sir lent me, so i get to blog and play on Fetlife and  Facebook, and check my e-mail and do my banking and catch up on everyone’s blogs!  Yay -thank you, Sir!

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

So much to process.  Some of it is purely visual.  People’s bodies.

Young, slender, lithe bodies.  Sagging bodies.  Overweight and underweight.   Women with huge breasts, nipples the size of – omg, i don’t know what.  Big, really big.  Tiny breasted women.    Big hips, big butts, small, flat asses, no hips, women so slender they might have been men.  It didn’t matter, they were all admired and appreciated.

Whipped and fucked, fondled and caressed, tied up, suspended, and held.

And men.  Naked men.   O, my.  Every variety you can imagine.  Lovely rounded asses, firm flat ones, sagging ones, muscular legs, flabby thighs.  And cocks.  Mmmmhmm.  Just a variety of cocks, all fine in their own way.   {Um, giggles, none so fine as Sir’s, of course.}

My own sense of my body today is different.

Some of the processing is sensation.   The feeling of fire play last night, the violet wand – different from last time.  My own struggle to submit, to let go.   The sensations are so strong at the time, i can’t absorb them all.  They come back later – now – the tingling heat in my pussy reminding me.  My skin, so sensitive, as if i can feel the air laying on it.   The relief of feeling Sir take my control; He moves the picture like a child’s kaleidoscope, shifts me into a different space.  Mmmmmm.

O, and the hitachi.  O.  Yes.

Sounds.  Moans and whimpers.  Laughter.  Jokes and stories.  Music. Heels clicking.  A woman screaming ‘o god yes, YEEEESSSSSS!,’ and a muffled ‘Mmmmphf’ of pain.

That’s barely a beginning.

But tonight, i’m going to walk for a while, and try to stay in this moment.  In the dark, moving through my little generic suburban neighborhood, letting whatever is, be.