It isn’t fair.
i didn’t mean it that way.
i did remember. i knew.
i just thought… i just thought maybe…
O.
Five?
For not remembering?
But ~ But, Sir, i ~
And more?
Arguing? No ~ i ~ i ~
was just saying ~
just meant ~
O.
Five more?
Um,
{but it’s not fair, that’s not what i meant, you don’t understand, it wasn’t what you think!}
Um,
Yes.
Sir.
“okay, i have a q for you…*evil snikker* (yes, i know it’s spelled incorrectly…on purpose)…
if your M ordered you to give another guy a bj, would you balk? (assuming he set up the parameters beforehand for you to be safe from stds, etc…)”
That’s a great question, Dragon Lady, um ‘Nilla.
You know, i think there are different levels or layers of fantasy.
Story of O was a huge, huge turn on for me, and i found my sexual energy through fantasies of that kind of sexual slavery for so many years. But do i really want to be taken to Roissy and used by many anonymous men?
No. i really don’t. So that’s a fantasy that stays in my head, it’s not something that i think i have a secret yearning for.
Do i want to be taken by more than one man at the same time, in a group sex kind of scenario? Um, i don’t think so, but under the exact right circumstances ~
~ if it were two men i knew well and i was attracted to them both and they both wanted to share me, and i was feeling really submissive, well, hmmm, it could happen. But it would need to meet all those conditions, and even then, maybe not.
On the other hand, there are plenty of kinky fantasies that i really might want to come true. Some exhibitionist stuff. Some punishment themes. You know, other stuff.
Remember me talking about the first real Dom i knew ~ not First Sir, but Mike Moore? Mike who i loved so dearly, who used to say, “Now, mind me. I like a woman who minds.”
Well, he was Irish, and he loved to tell stories, and i’ve probably told this one before. But he might start, “You know, my friends used to say to me, they’d say, ‘Mike, what do you mean ‘you like a woman who minds? I don’t know what you’re talking about, you can’t make women mind you, not nowadays! They’re independent, they’re not gonna do anything just because you tell ’em to.’
And,” Mike would continue, “I’d say, ‘Well, yes I can make women mind me. It’s easy.” He’d pause and look at me, “You know how to make a woman mind, don’t you?'”
And i, in my wide-eyed vanilla-ness, would shake my head, “nooooo, how do you do that?” even long after i knew the answer, cause i loved to hear him laugh and say,
“Well, you just make ’em do things they want to do anyway! That’s the secret. You just tell ’em to do the things they want to do anyway.” Then he might add, “You’re not wearing panties are you? See, good girl, that’s what i like, a woman who does what she’s told, now come over here and let’s see how many orgasms you can have right now. Hurry up, mind me!”
And i’d giggle and be a little embarrassed, but you know, who could resist an offer like that???
Now i also noticed that if he mostly told me to do things that i wanted to do, or that brought me pleasure, he could throw in a thing or two that i wasn’t so sure i wanted to do, and i’d be so in the habit of saying yes, that i’d slide right into doing those pretty easily too.
And i thought it was important that i noticed that.
But, i digress. Getting back to your question…
For me, being made, coerced, or pushed into doing something sexual is a huge trigger for me. i know that’s the dynamic for a lot of D/s relationships, that the “s” can’t say no, isn’t allowed to say no to sex.
But that’s what my first marriage was like. Non-consensually. Well, and my first real sexual relationship, for that matter, which was non-consensual by virtue of age and quickly became sexually and physically abusive.
So for me personally, not speaking for anyone else, i essentially need to consent to each episode. It doesn’t have to be formal, it can be implicit, and ~ i’m not explaining this well. i’m sorry. It’s not like my Dom needs permission ~ that’s silly ~ but ~ it’s like this ~
i know that if i don’t want to do something sexual, really don’t, and He doesn’t help me move into an accepting submission, if He overrides me, and insists, then i will feel like crap afterwards. i will feel like i’ve been abused.
On the other hand, for example, i have a love/hate relationship with anal sex. i want it/don’t want ~ and i have past issues with it ~ and i want it as much as i hate it, so it’s a fair playground for pushing my comfort level.
But if he “makes me,” i will have emotional and even sensory flashbacks and it won’t be pretty. Or helpful.
It damages me.
After i got divorced the first time, it took me about a year of therapy to realize that all those times i’d said to my husband, “Please don’t, please don’t, it’s like you’re raping me, please don’t…” well, it took me a year of therapy after the divorce to realize that when you feel that way you are being raped.
So, back to your question, Ms ‘Nilla, giving another guy a blow job is not a secret fantasy of mine. If my Master wanted me to do it, he would have to figure out how to make me want to do it first. And “because he wants me to” would probably not be reason enough for that particular thing.
If he really “made me” ~ coerced, pushed, pressured ~ when it wasn’t something i wanted, i think it would damage me. And i believe i have some responsibility to not let myself be damaged, so… you know, that could be a hard limit for me, but more importantly, it would make me wonder why he’d want me to do something that could harm me.
Whew. Bet you didn’t know you’d get all this… hope you weren’t looking for a simple yes/no answer!
More questions anyone?
Saturday, He has a plan.
i don’t know what it is. Yet.
He says it is more than dinner.
More than touching and stroking and caressing.
More than fucking.
i had a miserable day at work on Tuesday.
It looked like some good things that we expected to happen, weren’t going to. i could have been ok with that. Then it looked like some really bad things were going to happen, and lots of people – clients and staff – were going to suffer because of it. It looked like the good things were lost through corporate negligence, and the bad things coming through another organization’s bureaucratic rigidity and my organization’s mindless indifference and acceptance.
I was distraught.
This was on top of the usual issues and problems, catastrophes and misery.
i was overwhelmed.
So on Tuesday, we were supposed to have gone out for dinner, and He thought we needed some down time instead. So we ate in, and He calmed and soothed me. He took care of me.
i felt better, and appreciated it.
Then He warned me. About Saturday.
He says it will be structured.
He says, “you can relax and submit and I will do the rest, or rather, you will do the rest, as I dictate. No decisions, no worries, just submit.”
i know ~ He tells me ~ there will be a red ass involved (mine.)
Then, late yesterday afternoon, the new, overwhelming issues at work got resolved. Yep.
The good things are happening. The bad things are not.
That’s partly cause i put a bunch of energy into arguing and persuading and playing with numbers and making phone calls, and so did some other people, and then some people had to listen and act on what we were saying, and now?
It’s all good.
So i was doing happy dances all over the place. Then ~ i had this horrible thought ~
what if Sir was just doing whatever He was going to do on Saturday because i had been so upset? What if He changed His plans now that i was ok?
Yes, i know that was goofy, goofy, goofy. But at the moment, it made perfect sense.
And really ~ my 2nd husband? That’s how he was. He was at his best when i was at my worst. If i could have just stayed messed up, or sick, or pathetic in some way, we might still be married.
Giggling.. really, that’s the truth.
But i had this scary moment of “what if?”
So ~ i asked Him. i was kinda proud of myself for asking. And at first He didn’t even understand what i was talking about, so i explained my worry, and admitted it was goofy, and He said:
“No my Saturday plans were not just to appease your upset little self, The Dom in me reminds you that it would not be that way… No it’s much deeper than that.”
And my heart thrilled. i can’t wait.
Jake has posted another thought-provoking post, {thank you, Jake} and then tweaked my interest in blogging about it a bit more in the comments. You can read it here if you haven’t already.
He talks about the difference between a service submissive and an obedient submissive. A service submissive is: “one who enjoys the act of performing services for their Dominant partner, whether sexual or non-sexual. ”
An obedience submissive “feel(s) excitement, arousal and joy at being “made” to perform an action or follow an instruction.”
So, i think i’m a service submissive, with a little obedience thrown in. That surprised Jake, who would have thought i was an obedience submissive. Which made me stop and think.
i do like to be controlled. i like being told what to do and how to do it. i like the idea that i’d be punished if i did it wrong. {i said i like the idea, don’t know if i’d like the reality.}
But i think that’s because i want to please. i want that more than anything ~ not to please everybody all the time {laughing…} but to please my Sir.
Even in my first, most vanilla marriage, i would have done just about anything to please him. The problem there was that he was only pleased for about a minute, and then he went back to feeling martyred and ill-treated. He just wore me out. Eventually, i had to accept that i was never going to please him, no matter what.
But that’s beside the point ~ except that the desire was there.
If you read my blog, you know i’m not a great housekeeper, and it’s not something i really enjoy doing. But when i was married the second time, i ran around the house every night before he came home, tidying and fluffing and straightening. He never knew i did it, so i don’t think he was pleased either, but i tried!
None of which proves i’m a service sub. Hmmmm.
Well. Jake’s post has a picture of a woman providing oral stimulation to a man. He suggests that for an obedience submissive, being “made to” perform an act is what makes it pleasurable for them.
i, on the other hand, am a big fan of cock worship ~ and it would hurt my feelings if Sir thought He had to “make me” or order me. But ~ i love being told what to do because ~~
~~ then i know that whatever it is will actually please Him.
That’s my theory anyhow.
And i so often have this sense of longing to give… of wanting to offer. And am sometimes restrained by fear that what i want to give ~ what i have to give ~ will not be what He wants. Will be too much, or too little, or bad timing.
Being obedient avoids those particular anxieties.
So. Interesting topic. i think i need to think about it more, and maybe talk with Sir about it too.
Sir was telling me in the rope book i gave Him for Xmas, there’s a chapter on “giving and taking” but in a different context than i’d thought of.
In the book, “giving” submissives offer their submission ~ to bondage, i suppose ~ and “taking” submissives provide some level of resistance that has to be overcome by the Dom. So the one gives herself to bondage, the other needs to be taken.
Somehow that flows along with this, and it all circles around giving and receiving too. But i’m not gonna figure it out this morning…
He pulls me out of the corner. i’m awkward, my pants and panties around my knees are sliding down and i don’t know whether to try to stop them or let them go.
“Get out of those,” He says, solving that dilemma. i let them drop and step out of them, leaving myself naked from the waist down.
He guides me, one hand still wrapped in my hair. In front of the couch, He pushes gently, prompting me to kneel on the floor.
“That’s fine,” He says with a nod, sitting on the couch in front of me. He looks at me a minute, and i want to squirm under the scrutiny, but manage to hold still.
“Tell me,” He says.
And for a second, i can’t think at all. My mind is just a big panicky blank.
He’s watching me, intent, but patient.
It begins to come back to me, but i’m having trouble saying anything.
i swallow hard.
“Do you want some water?” He offers, and gratefully i drink from the glass He hands me.
That helps me find my words, but it’s still hard. “i’m sorry,” i say, “really sorry that i broke the rule, um, the rule about not having an ~ an orgasm without permission. I know it’s important for us to have rules ~ i wanted rules ~ ” and now my words flow easier, “because it makes me feel closer to you.”
And then it’s hard again, “When i break the rule, it makes it look like i don’t care,” i look up at Him, “and i do care. Very much.”
There are tears in my eyes, i’m blinking them back, and He reaches out and touches my face. “I know you care,” He says. “And you know I need to enforce the rules. You won’t be able to trust me otherwise.”
“Yes, Sir,” i say, and i can’t say anything else.
“It won’t always be a physical punishment,” He says. “But this time I think you need that release.”
i nod. i think He’s right, i think it will make me feel better, in some strange way.
“I’m going to use the shoe horn,” He says. He gives me a second to absorb that, then adds, “It’s going to hurt. You know I’m not lying about that,” and He smiles a little. i can’t help it, i smile back. i do know ~ when He says something’s going to hurt, it really does!
“In a minute, I want you to bend over the arm of the couch here. I want your hands right here.” He stands, indicating where He wants me, gestures for me to get up.
i get to my feet, place my hands where He wants them, so i am bent over, leaving my ass exposed, of course. He doesn’t touch it or stroke it as He usually would, and that feels more ominous than anything else that has happened.
He is rooting through His bag, and i wait.
Then He is behind me.
“Eight,” He says. “I’m going to give you eight hard ones. I want you to count, and yes, I want to hear “thank you, Sir,” after each one. So that’s ‘One, thank you, Sir; Two, thank you, Sir,’ and so on. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sir,” i say, and my voice sounds little bitty to me.
“Tell me,” He says. “Tell me what you’re going to do.”
“i’m going to count, Sir,” my voice is still soft, but loud enough to hear, i think. “i’m going to count one, two, three and so on, and say thank you Sir each time, Sir.”
“Good girl,” He says, and i’m still smiling to myself over that when the first one lands.
i gasp.
“O! One, thank you, Sir.”
The second follows quickly, and the third. They land on both ass cheeks. Each one is a little above or below the last one, but there is some overlap.
The fourth one, and it takes me a minute to say, “Four, thank you, Sir.”
“Breathe,” He says. “Half-way there.”
And five lands, omigod… five, thank you, Sir…
My ass is on fire. i keep lifting my leg, my right leg, bending it up and putting it back down, like that’s going to help. And i’m making little whimpering noises, i can’t seem to stop.
SIX!
omigod, omigod, omigod, six, thank you, Sir. That’s when it melts, that something inside me that resists the pain, it just melts away.
“Two more,” He says. “Two more and we’re done.”
And even though it hurts more than i thought it would, more than i thought it could, i know i can do two more, and really, i’m glad to.
“Yes, Sir,” i say.
And Seven lands, O! He brings it down so it crosses the other ones, and it hurts so bad, really, i think there should be flames coming off my ass, like a cartoon, and it’s ok, “Seven ~ thank you Sir” i say and then
OMIGOD. Eight. O. O. O. DAMN.
“Eight. Thank you Sir.”
i feel so good – my ass is still burning, but i feel ~ i don’t know ~ i feel cleansed.
“Stay there a minute,” He says. “Don’t try to get up until I tell you to.”
i’m quite happy to stay there, my legs feel a little wobbly anyhow. i can hear Him moving around behind me, but it seems very far away.
Then He’s beside me, His arms slowly pulling me up, and i am a little dizzy, but He holds me up. Looks at me, smiling just a little.
“Are you going to be having orgasms without permission again any time soon?” He asks.
“No, Sir,” i say vehemently, and bury my head in His shoulder, wrap my arms tight around Him.
“Come here,” He says, and He pulls me down on the couch, so we are wrapped together.
“Good girl,” He says.
‘Nella, my friend and dear subsister, is sitting at the kitchen table, beaming at me. We are going to a munch tonight, her first. Excitement dances in her eyes.
He returns then, my Sir, and i hear Him set something down in the living room. Curious, i move to the doorway.
It’s His bag. He’s brought in His bag ~~ and is opening it. What is He ~~?
He looks up, sees me in the doorway. “Yes, good, ” He says. “Come on out here,” He is pulling things out of His bag.
Cuffs.
Some rope.
“What ~ what are you ~” i stammer ~ i recognize these things. He uses these to ~ when we ~ O. O, my.
“What?” He says. “What am I doing? Just what it looks like. You didn’t think I’d forget your spanking, did you?” Smiling, so casual, so matter-of-fact, i’m confused.
“But ~ but ~” i’m jerking my head toward the kitchen, but He’s not looking at me, so i say it, “But ‘Nella’s here! You can’t ~ um, are you serious?”
He’s still smiling, but, “I can’t?” He says. “Is that what you said?”
“Um, o ~ no, no, that’s not what i meant. i meant, um, i meant,” and i’m totally flustered now.
“I thought,” He said, “That the agreement was that once you put the collar on, you do what I tell you to do. Is that not right?”
“No ~ yes ~ yes, that’s right. Yes, Sir. It is.”
“So is there a problem?” and as He asks it, He holds out the cuff. Without thinking, i offer my wrist, my right wrist, as He’s taught me.
“No, Sir,” i say, “No problem, not exactly a problem, no, it’s just, um, you know, ‘Nella, Sir. She’s here… and you know…”
“Oh, I see,” He says. “You think ‘Nella might have a problem with it. Well, let’s see. ‘Nella, would you come here for a minute, please?”
She pops around the corner right away, and of course she’s been listening. i think she’s blushing a little bit, but smiling. “Yes, Sir Z?” she says.
“‘Nella, we seem to have a bit of a dilemma here. Alisha needs to be spanked and she seems to think you’ll have a problem with that.” He pauses, having just fastened the second cuff on me. Looks at ‘Nella, who’s grinning broadly. “Do you not want her to get spanked? “
“O, I don’t mind at all,” she says. “I’m sure Alisha needs to be spanked, I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that. I can just go for a walk. A long walk.”
He shrugs, intent on unbuttoning my shirt. “You can, of course,” He says. “If that’s what you want to do. Or you can stay and watch.”
i’m stunned, i open my mouth, but nothing come out. He has opened my shirt, now His hand goes to my mouth; He presses a finger to my lips.
Clearly, i am not to speak. i bite back the words that had almost escaped me.
“Alisha won’t mind, I’m sure,” He says. “After all, she’s played publicly before, other people have seen her naked, getting her lovely ass flogged.” He looks at me, “Right, my sweet?”
And i realize of course He is right, and all i can do is nod.
“It’s a delicious sight,” He says. “Watching her take it, she’s beautiful,” and His hands pinch my nipples, through my bra at first.
Then He grasps a breast, pulls it up so the nipple is exposed, the bra pushed tight under the breast. “Look,” He says. “Already hard and waiting for me.” He pinches it, tugs on it, making it harder.
Then He turns His attention to the other breast. Repeats the process.
And says to ‘Nella, who’s watching with interest, “It’s your call, of course. Whatever you want to do.”
The directions come about 3:00 yesterday afternoon. They’re emailed to me, and then He texts me to let me know they’re available.
They seem long and complicated.
He tells me to copy them on a piece of paper or a card, but i’m crazy busy at work, so i get permission to print them instead.
After work, i rush home, have a light meal, clean up and change clothes, by which time i’m running a few minutes late. i rush out the door, drive fast, and am back on track pretty quickly.
In the middle of the drive, i’m directed to stop at a particular Starbucks for coffee to go. i’m supposed to park facing south. That throws me for a minute because the parking spaces are facing southeast, according to my car compass, but i settle for that and hope it’s good enough.
He’s told me exactly how He wants his coffee, and says i can get whatever i want. But first, i’m to go in the bathroom, take off my panties. Using my creativity, i’m to place them artistically around the room and take pictures of them.
Mmmhmmmm. You read that right.
So i do. i’ve had no problem with the directions up to this point, only a little trouble parking facing south, and i have no problem taking the pictures. Here’s one:
Yes, that's my boot...
i’m supposed to leave the bathroom smiling, which i do, and get the coffee, which i also do. i’m a little nervous about fixing his, but it’s done and i’m on the road again…
The directions continue, and i’m fine until the very last part, when i’m supposed to turn left onto his street after the car wash.
i miss the car wash.
It’s closer to the last turn than i expect, and i don’t see it, so i go too far, way too far, and it’s dark and i can’t see anything, and i know i need to turn around but He hasn’t given me the name of the street, just told me where to turn, and it’s getting late and i know i won’t be able to find it, so i’m getting freaked out and finally ~~
~~ i do turn around and start back, but i can feel tears welling up in my eyes, cause how can i be lost???? And how will i ever find it??? It’s dark and scary and ~~
~~ and then i hear my text noise and i glance at my phone ~ it’s Him. He wants to know if i’m running late or lost.
i can’t answer right away, cause i’m driving and it’s a curvy road and dark and there’s nowhere to pull over, and that almost makes me cry ~ but then i see a spot to pull off the side of the road, so i text back:
i’m lost
and He says
Where?
but i’m driving again, and on the verge of tears still, and then ~~~ yes, my phone rings ~~ and it’s Him.
Whew!
i know my voice is shaky at first, but He figures out where i am and talks me in. i’m there in just a few minutes, and breathe a big sigh of relief.
Afterwards, we talk about it, what had happened, how i’d gotten lost. He explains to me why the directions were given the way He did it, and how He’s trying to teach me to pay attention to where i am and how i’m getting somewhere.
Like even the part about parking facing south was to make sure i knew which way i was going, so that was actually kind of cool. And He’d wanted me to copy the directions manually because they would have been easier to remember, that would have fixed them in my mind better.
But i did ok, even though i got lost, i followed all the instructions ok, i just missed the car wash. i had to email Him the pictures i took so He can pick which one is the contest winner and i get a prize.
And i didn’t even know there was a contest!
Here are a couple more of the pictures. Do you have a favorite?
Hanging on the door handle...
On the floor...
On top of the paper towel dispenser...
i’ve gotten instructions for my date with Sir X.
We’re meeting at his house tonight, which is actually a first time event. He apparently wasn’t comfortable having guests until He’d done some thorough cleaning. But Saturday was a big cleaning day at His house, and now He’s ready for visitors.
i’m to come home after work, have a light meal, and leave 45 minutes before i’m due at His house. No food at His house. This is an evening of “carnal pleasure,” He says.
i’ve gotten explicit instructions on what to wear ~ a dress with buttons, or a shirt with buttons and a skirt. Frigging buttons. i have exactly three shirts that have buttons. One of them is a flannel shirt. i’m pretty sure flannel is not what He has in mind.
And it wouldn’t go with a skirt anyhow. It’s a flannel shirt. Perfect for cleaning house. Going on a hayride.
i’m going to have to get a new wardrobe with buttons. Sigh.
So i get off work at 5 today, fortunately, which will give me time to get home and change clothes and ~ you know, get ready.
He will give me directions to His house ~ i haven’t gotten them yet. We went by there once, so theoretically i know where it is, but you know me, i couldn’t find it again for love or money.
i know what part of town it’s in. i have a general idea, and i could find the area on a map.
Which i’m sorely tempted to do.
i just want to see ~ if i leave work and come home, am i retracing my steps when i go to His house? Would it make more sense to take clothes and change at work, stop somewhere for a light meal, and then go to His place?
And i almost pull up google map, when it hits me ~~~
~~ O, wait! This is what got me in trouble last time! Trying to plan ahead and make sure i knew where i was going. Couldn’t just trust his directions, had to run around and see where they led ahead of time.
Ok.
Not gonna do that again… nope.
i’ll wait.
If He texts the damn directions one street at a time, i’ll wait.
i can follow directions. i can.
And maybe i’ll run over to the shopping center next to work and look for something cute to wear with buttons…
******* i haven’t forgotten about reporting back on classes for Kinky Kollege – more on that when i have a little more time ~ and when i’m not distracted by finding clothes with buttons ~ and the spanking bench awaiting me…********
Horrendous traffic and one wrong turn made a 5 hour drive into a 7 hour one after work yesterday, so i’m still a little tired this morning, but not nearly as stiff as i was afraid i’d be. Yesterday, i had to leave for work early and didn’t even get a chance to read OPB’s {Other People’s Blogs} so i hope i make up for that sometime today.
Just a quick story from Tuesday night ~
Sir had told me He had a couple of tasks for me on my travels.
We’ve just finished dinner when He starts giving me instructions on the tasks. i’m listening intently, ’cause, you know, i don’t want to miss anything.
So He says,”While you’re at Kinky Kollege, I want you to take a picture of yourself.”
And i nod, picturing myself taking a picture of myself in my hotel room… already thinking about what to wear.
“Without panties,” He says.
i mentally remove panties from the picture.
“And,” He says, “No pants,”
So now i see myself naked, at least from the waist down, and i imagine holding my cell phone to capture the “picture”
“And,” He adds firmly, “I want you to take it in a public place… a recognizable place, like in front of the hotel.”
~~~~~~and my jaw drops, o, yikes, WHAT????
’cause i’m clearly picturing myself naked from the waist down taking my picture in the brisk fall air {which should be the least of my worries} outside in front of the hotel????
And my mind is scrambling around trying to figure out how on earth i could possibly…
when He says, “Now, listen closely, i wouldn’t want you to miss following these instructions correctly,” so i stop thinking and listen again.
He says, “I said, ‘No panties,’ right?”
i’m nodding, “yes, Sir,” no panties, got that.
“And no pants, right?”
When of course it clicks ~ o, right ~ a skirt ~ i can wear a skirt.
Whew.
And He starts laughing, “You’ve got it now, right?’ and i’m nodding in relief… and He says,
“Yeah, ’cause we wouldn’t want you to get arrested because you didn’t follow the instructions, right?” And i can only laugh and agree, no, we don’t want that!
He says, “O, if you could only have seen your face, when i said, ‘in a public place.’ That was great! I could just see you trying to figure out how you were going to…” and He bursts out laughing.
He continued to be amused by that image off and on all night, and is probably still grinning at the memory. Apparently, my Sir has a touch of the sadist after all…
…laughing…
aisha 