On Friday I asked to be hurt, and was, beautifully. Or at least, I enjoyed the warm, tender glow I was left with... I don't like belts, and he's quite skilled at snapping it across just one buttock so that the tip curls round and bites into the crease. While it was happening it was really not fun, but given that it was actually a punishment for wilful disobedience, I tried not to complain too much and did at least manage to stay quite still and receptive. It helps to remember that I often don't like the pain while it's happening, and that it being an earned punishment makes it harder.

Afterwards, kneeling before him as he sat on the sofa, with one glow on my bottom and another in my heart, I wanted him. I wanted his hands on me, touching me, stroking me, petting me, pinching me, hurting me... I wanted his hands to reinforce to me that I was his, that I belong to him, that he has free access to any part of my body he wishes, whenever he wishes. The stabs of erotic pain as he rhythmically squeezed my nipples was enough to start me moaning as my eyes drifted shut and I swayed slightly, glad that I was already on my knees. Our kisses just added to this, my mouth making demands of him that chattel have no right to make.

He moved things a notch higher, making me stand facing away from him, legs spread wide, bottom thrust back, flushing at the thought of everything being so displayed for him. And there I stayed, panting and whimpering, while his fingers explored, invaded and fondled me. It was humiliating - and his fingers on my clitoris were arousing and arousing and arousing me, but there was no way I'd be able to orgasm in that position. I was getting desperate, the need to come beginning to override everything else. And then he stopped.

I stayed in position until his order (very glad that he hadn't furthered the humiliation with an inspection), then followed him to the bedroom and obediently took his cock into my mouth. That's an interesting adverb to use, isn't it - obediently. I was glad to go down on him, but knowing that in doing so I'm being an obedient slave gives me a deep and quiet satisfaction, as well as fuelling my arousal.

He wound up ordering my hands behind my back as I lay on the bed and he fucked my mouth, pounding my head into the mattress, making me grunt. I love it when he takes me like that, takes his pleasure from me and I can imagine that he cares not one whit about me except as a masturbation device. Afterwards, his hand wrapped around my neck. "Swallow." And I did. "Good girl"


I didn't get an orgasm. He let me writhe around, grind myself against his leg, whimper, tremble, and generally show him just how very turned on and desperate I was. And then he sent me to get dressed and boot up my laptop for work.

I have not seen him since, and in all there will be four nights when we will sleep apart. For those four nights, I have instructions: I am to read something arousing and masturbate, every night, and I'm not allowed to come.

Because I am overly obedient I am following the spirit of his instructions; I know that he wants me hungry for him, so I am masturbating to the brink of orgasm and then stopping. Two nights of this, on top of Friday morning's desperate and helpless arousal, is making me miss him and yearn for him even more, but at the same time it gives me something to focus on that's quite different and separate from hospitals and sickness. So I am grateful for his care even while I groan to myself, late at night and quivering, over his cruelty.

Tuesday night can not come quickly enough. I will not want to spend a quiet evening relaxing, I have to hope that he won't either. I will want his hands on me, touching, stroking, pinching, hurting, petting, soothing, making me writhe and gasp, my voice abject and helpless, "oh please, oh please..." while his hands touch me all over and reclaim me as his own.

And if I'm very good, he might even let me come.


She was sobbing by the time he finished and continued to do so for some time afterwards. Until the sofa cushion was more than just damp. The lesson had been effective though and she carefully stayed in position, despite the pain which continued to burn and throb and sting all at the same time. But finally the pain began to subside, her tears ended and she lay quietly, her dark red, sore and swollen bottom uppermost over the arm of the sofa. Her head and elbows pressed into the tear-wet seat, and bright red thighs lead to knees spread wide, to ensure complete exposure of what was normally kept hidden and private.

She heard him moving behind her again and then something cold and hard pressed into the cleft of her bottom. “Do you know what this is?” he asked. And suddenly she found some more tears to cry out. Read more...Collapse )

Struggling this morning

There have been a few posts in this journal now about my rule against touching myself with my bare fingers. Today I'm finding this very difficult.

Master and I were talking last night about the possibility of Strict Month happening one day. That at the moment I tend to assume that if I ask him for permission to touch myself, or to come, he'll say yes. And I get grouchy if he says no. If Strict Month happened my cunt would receive no attention at all - not from me, not from Master. He says he would make sure I was aroused quite often, while paying no attention to my cunt.

Of course, talking about this made me wet. And I didn't have any gloves with me last night, so I wasn't allowed to touch myself. Master did, and I enjoyed several orgasms, but it isn't the same.

This morning we were talking about it again and I asked Master to touch me again. Just to put his hand there and hold, sort of - I just wanted to feel a warm touch. Instead my head was guided down to his cock and my mouth was thoroughly used - grasping my head, fingers across my eyes and nose, moving me up and down hard and fast, wiggling me around to find the angles he liked. All I could do was try to keep up.

After he came my head was removed, patted and he got up. "Time to get dressed."

Everything in my rebelled - I didn't want to get dressed, I wanted to be held and petted and made a fuss of. Except that's not what an obedient girl does, so after a moment I did get up and dressed. By the time I was finished Master was heading downstairs to do a few errands, so I did too. Waited for him at the foot of the stairs and he passed me a few times before he found a moment to stop, wrap his hand round my throat and tell me to swallow.

Then I was allowed to stand up and we cuddled. He held me while I explained why I was sad - that I know it's not really allowed for me to be sulky or unhappy about lack of attention to my cunt, or not doing things the way I want, because those are his decisions to make and I know he gives me plenty of attention in other ways. But it's hard anyway.

So I feel sort of like a good girl because I caught the sulks in time and know I just have to work at accepting what he says. But it's hard, and so I'm sad.

I'm getting a reward tonight, and I'm trying to work on his approval and pleasure being all the impetus I need. But I want what I want right now, and it's not easy to fight.
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    sad sad

Six months

Six months (and one day) ago, on April 16th, my Master gave me a new rule. The rule was that I was not permitted to touch my cunt directly with my own bare fingers. If I'm washing I have to use a cloth or sponge, if I want to masturbate I have to use gloves (and, depending on other rules, either get permission or let him know immediately afterwards, and what I'd been thinking about).

In August, after four months, Master made it a permanent rule. Most of our rules are more or less transient - we have them for a few months and then they are altered or discarded or replaced. But this one I'd had persistently since April and then in August he said that I should not expect him to lift it for some time - that he would review the rule when we reached six months but did not expect to change it.

Last night Master and I marked the six months point of this rule - six months of me avoiding all contact with myself, six months of not feeling my own warm, wet, slick heat when I'm aroused. Yes, you can still feel a fair amount through gloves but it really isn't the same. Six months of me finding it just that little bit more difficult to masturbate because with gloves on you lose friction. Six months of religiously noting every tiny lapse, every time I wasn't really paying attention in the shower and the cloth didn't entirely cover my fingers, every time on the toilet the side of a finger grazed against the side of my labia, and telling Master so he could punish me for it. In six months I have never deliberately broken the rule.

It has not become any easier to keep - every day I make a quick mental check that I have gloves with me, every time I want to come I have to go and find some gloves. Every time I try to come it takes me that little bit longer, adds that little bit of frustration, because the gloves have less friction on my clitoris than my fingers would. My Master likes that it is easier for him to make me come than for myself.

Last night, as Master set my mouth and hands to work at pleasing him, he quietly told me that he has no intention of lifting the rule for the foreseeable future - at the very least another six months. That as I had been able to follow it so well for these six months, he saw no reason to. That he was very much looking forward to the end of our first year where the only bare skin my cunt's felt against it, inside it, has been my Master's. Note that - the first year. That all of me, body and mind, belongs to him, and he's not letting me have my cunt back. And that taking other people's stuff, or using their stuff without their permission, would be very naughty.

I get so wet when he talks to me like that.

I still feel no desire to break the rule. Once in a while, like last night when he told me the first year, the enormity of this restriction washes over me again and I may cry a few tears. Mostly because it makes me feel more owned, more enslaved, than anything else ever does. I don't have a collar, I don't always call him Master, we do not use most of the trappings of a Master/slave relationship and we do not refer to me as his slave. But he owns me, I could not break free if I wanted to*, and the control and authority he has over this aspect of me and other parts of my life remind me every day that I am not free.

I am not free. I do not belong to myself. I belong to my Master, who has set rules that control and shape my life, including daily routines such as what I eat and when I go to bed. I do not always get to make my own choices. Including when, where or how I touch myself.

I love it.

* uh, mentally, I'm talking about - I regularly leave the house unescorted!)
  • Current Mood
    good good

Waiting for permission

Last night I was surfing some blogs and eventually spent a while reading Confessions of an English Gentleman and Persephone's Obedience. After I while I was definitely aroused, and texted Master.

Please may I masturbate and have some orgasms?

It actually only took him a minute to reply, but for that minute I was completely on tenterhooks. What would I do if he said no? Well, I knew what I'd do, I'd keep my hands away from my cunt, close my eyes and breathe, remind myself that it's his decision and not mine, and accept what he says... but I wasn't sure how easy or hard I'd find it, I was really very turned on.

A minute later my phone beeped. Read more...Collapse )

Back again

Gosh, life's been so busy and I just never had time to do anything over here.

Let's see.

Still have the rule. Keeping it much better recently (touch wood!). There've been some changes to it Read more...Collapse )

Other things have changed and yet stayed the same - we had a conversation recently about boundaries. Master knows pretty much exactly where my boundaries are, we talk about them a lot and he knows me very well. That being the case, I've recently agreed that he should be the one who gets to decide which boundaries get pushed, and when and where. This is very scary for me as he's immediately picked on two kinks that I'm deeply embarrassed by and ashamed of - but we also had a conversation about how he owns me and it really isn't right that I should be able to gainsay him on anything. We communicate and I tell him how I'm feeling and what I'm thinking abou things, and if I'm not liking something but he still wants me to go ahead with it, unless I feel like it'd actually be damaging (physically, emotionally) then I shouldn't be permitted to refuse him. So he's picked these boundaries to push, and they aren't damaging, and I'm just going to have to do my best with them. I feel very lucky though, both that he'd want to push me, and that I know he can handle anything that comes up as a result.

Oh, in more fun news - we went on holiday during which I spent 3 nights sleeping chained to the bed. The first night I didn't sleep very well, but after that the first night I slept 'free' again I also didn't sleep very well because I missed the weight! Hopefully we can do something similar again soon.

Generally we've been moving a lot more recently towards my being his - owned by him, his possession, whether that means pet or slave or slut or whatever he wants. Read more...Collapse )

So, little things and big things both. I'm loving all the changes - even the hard ones, or the ones that I'm worried about. Master won't ask the impossible of me - or if he did, he'd do it on purpose.

I'm also going to undertake an attempt to keep my cunt bare for him - for several reasons, but including that it makes keeping my rule harder, and he likes the extra sensitivity. We'll see how it goes, and hopefully I'll get around to updating here sooner than last time.