hope

with me today you are
thinner than a thought
help me salvage clumps of hope
as if pulled from some stuffy drawer
tucked away behind shirts
or maybe socks
unmatched and unnoticed
like the sneering sun mocking me
as it convulses and spits
large sallow sunflower petals
damp across blue
and white
you linger here still
with me today
grabbing at anything
smelling of hope
even as it flies past
like silver slivers
dripping from an overturned jar
melting

interactive post. :)

He led her to the stool in the center of the room. It was the kind that sits at the foot of a bed, an ottoman really. It was plush enough so that when he guided her down her knees sank into the softness of the velvety fabric. Her hands were tied tightly behind her back. She was blindfolded and the ends of the blindfold tickled the skin on her back. It distracted her like a fly buzzing or a dripping faucet. She didn’t like that sensation. She shook her head slightly to try and shake the annoyance away but silk only caressed her skin causing her to shiver. There was no need to attempt to speak. He gagged her the minute she entered the room. The taste of rubber was strong in her mouth and already her jaw ached. She knew better than to complain, didn’t really want to. She liked the ache just as she liked the sting that still lingered across each of her cheeks from where he had smacked her face as he attached the ball gag.

 

She felt a little off balance. Her need to sense and receive sensory input was strong so whenever he took that away from her it shook her somehow. She didn’t like the darkness behind the blindfold and she wished she could use her hands to move the fabric kissing her back or better yet to reach out and touch her Owner’s skin.

 

He slid a hand between her thighs and forced her legs open slightly. She felt his breath on her shoulder and his hand rested gently around her neck. He buckled the soft leather cuffs around her ankles and joined them together attaching her wrists to her ankles by a rope. She was unable to move off of the ottoman unless she lurched to the side and that would only cause an ungraceful fall to the hard floor beneath her. She didn’t try to struggle, didn’t want to. He placed her collar around her neck.

 

His hands were now on each of her shoulders steadying her slightly. He pulled her back into him slightly allowing her to rest against his body. She felt the rise and fall of his body as he breathed. And then he was gone.

 

He left her there. Or maybe he didn’t. She didn’t sense him behind her anymore. Couldn’t smell him or hear his breathing. She couldn’t tell if the lights were on in the room or if she was encased in darkness. She didn’t know that she was in fact in a darkened room. The lights were off but she was not alone. He wouldn’t have left her although he liked the fact she thought he had. He watched her squirm a little on the stool, she was trying so hard to be brave.

 

He fought the urge to hold her, he fought the urge to hurt her too. She needed it, he needed it and she was his to do with as he pleased. Part of him valued the restraint he could show. He liked controlling himself as much as he liked controlling her. He watched as she curled her small toes and her fist clenched and unclenched. He wondered if he would like binding her hands so that she couldn’t even have that release.

 

He liked the sound of her breathing behind the gag. It was deeper as if she couldn’t take a full breath.  He heard her moan softly and it caused him to close his eyes and take a deep breath of his own. The need in the air was shared, the need to hurt her was strong and it was all around him. He knew he could not wait a second longer.

 

I’m in an inteactive mood today. What happens next…you tell me lol!!

 

 

thoughts for ‘this’ today of mine

“Everyone wants to live on top of the mountain, but all the happiness and growth occurs while you’re climbing it.”

 

He whispered into my skin; his breath adding to the dampness on the back of my neck…he whispered that he loved me, he whispered that I was his, that he needed me, and that he would take from me what he needed. His hand flowed down my back, a finger against my spine making me desperate for something more. A bite on my shoulder caused me to moan and another on my neck carried me over into that place of longing where my body is literally aching to be touched, to be used, to be hurt by him.

 

I was tied to the cross, my calves aching from being up on my toes, my arms trembling from being tied above my head. He stood behind me and teased my body, played with me as if I was just a toy and perhaps at that moment I truly was…as I often am, that is what I was. Toys are usually quiet and still unless they are touched and played with. I was being played with. He had the cane in his hand and he ran the point of it along the back of my legs. I shivered. I felt it again along my sides…a teasing touch along my rib cage causing me to suck in my breath. His gentleness startles me sometimes as much as his cruelty. Both are carnal and natural and real. Both are uniquely him and I get lost in it. I respond to both and they play into each other to the point of one being unable to exist without the other. When he is gentle it never wanders too far from my mind that it can turn hard in a heartbeat. A touch can become a hard pinch, a kiss can grow teeth. It is a consuming experience every time he touches me.

 

I am a fortunate submissive. I think of people who would question my lifestyle and I realize they have their own ideas of what is erotic, of what is consuming to them and their ideas do not have to match my own. I know that some people look forever to find the physical connection with someone that I have experienced with Richard. I remember thinking to myself a long time ago…lost perhaps in an adolescent fantasy of finding the man who could do all the wicked things to my body that my mind had somehow conjured up. In my mind I was the only one thinking such things…and wasn’t I a horrible person to have this dark longing to be beaten, to be collared, to perhaps even be a slave? Such thoughts crept into my mind as far back as I can remember. I teetered on feeling ashamed of what my mind produced and being titillatingly intrigued that my mind had this darker side.

 

Then came Mark. A dark knight of a man who taught me all I was feeling was alright. It was good….and he taught me to submit and to respect what my body yearned to give. The surrender of pain and the desire of belonging to someone and trusting so completely you would do anything for him. He taught me to love my submission and he taught me that even when he wasn’t going to be the man who took it from me it would still be good. He showed me what it meant o be loved and cherished for what I hid from everyone else. I have carried that feeling with me…I can pull it out and use it even now when I need to just as I imagine one day when Richard is just an archive to my readers I can pull lessons learned from him and apply them to my life.

 

Like I said, I am a fortunate submissive. I have known the love and the dark desire of two men who I will be forever grateful for the gifts they provided me. I spent a lot of time this morning reading my archives and the comments that followed. I was surprised at how melancholy I ended up feeling. It made me think of  Mark and how we messed that up…but more than that it made me miss who I was when I first started seeing him again, back when I had no negative feelings associated with my submission. Innocent in a way…and part of me mourns that. It also made me realize that something Mark had told me was right. When he and I decided to end it he said it was important for him to know that one day when I looked back at our times together I would smile. I would only smile and not feel sad for the loss of what it is that was so undeniable between us but just smile that we had it….that we touched it and loved it for as long as we possibly could. I’m there. I realized today that the only sadness I feel regarding him now is knowing I disappointed him by some of my choices, I let him down. I have forgiven myself for that now even if he never will. And that’s ok too…because I’ve forgiven him. For everything.

 

It is a good feeling, freeing and light. I like that. I like knowing that is possible. It helps me as I prepare to move forward into my life, it will help me when it is time for me to look back on the time I shared with Richard and smile. I know that time is coming one day, hopefully later rather than sooner but we never know. There is a great big plan out there for my life somewhere….that is exciting to me. There is a man out there that I haven’t even met whose life will one day be so intertwined with my own there is no clear path between them. It is a powerful feeling that loving and losing love can make one stronger. It isn’t really just a cliché after all, is it? I am a stronger person, a better person for having loved Mark. I am a better person, a stronger person for having loved Richard. It is circular I hope. I learn daily from Richard and the biggest lesson he has taught me is that it is love, not time, that heals all wounds.

 

I don’t know who wrote this but it is a quote I look to often….”Happiness lies for those who cry, those who hurt, those who have searched, and those who have tried for only they can appreciate the importance of people who have touched their lives.”

 

Mark told me once in my first few days with Richard that he would be cheering me on the sidelines as I walk down this new path into my submission….I thought of that sentence often over this past year and used it when things got hard. I know that Mark and Richard are a lot alike. One day it will be Richard letting me go and cheering me on. That makes me feel safe and loved and how can any of that be bad?

fantasy unfolding

The following post is written by Richard. I think it is written as a warning to me….and the follow up note on the bottom certainly reinforces that. In my last post I questioned being what he needed….if he would take more from me. If he needed more from me? I have spent time since then…even today when we were together ‘luring’ him so to speak….not quite teasing but trying to peek into what I should never see. I don’t think I’ll do that anymore. There are parts of him that I need not ever discover. His writing below..stated so matter-of-factly is a place I would never want to go yet…would I? If he expected it, needed it to be more than a dark fantasy…would I walk willingly into the darkness with him?

Richard…you were/are incredibly brave for inviting me/my readers into this dark part of your Dominance. I admire you.

 

We are in a large room, like a warehouse.  It has a large beam on two supports – think of a gymnastics balance beam but lower to the ground.  It is just high enough.  I lead pixie to it and press her against it.  It comes just to her breasts.  I tie her arms to the beam, stretched out on either side of her.  I spread her legs and attach them to bolts in the floor.  Anticipating that pixie may pass out at some point, I slide a saw horse between her legs and adjust it so that the cross piece is firmly against her cunt.  It will hold the weight of her body if her legs collapse.  We are ready to begin.

 

A box of small nails… a hammer….  I take the skin on pixie’s arm and pull it over the beam, stretching it.  I hold the skin tight against the beam with my index finger, and hold a small nail between my finger and thumb, pressing the point lightly against her skin.  She moans in anticipation, she begs “no, please.”  With a single stroke I drive the nail through the skin of her arm.  I repeat this process the length of her arm, spacing the nails about 3 inches apart.  There is really no blood, a fact that disappoints me slightly.  I swallow my disappointment, knowing that the razor is coming.

 

I do the same thing to her other arm.  She is now nailed tightly to the beam along the entire length of her arms.  She isn’t going anywhere unless she is willing to rip the skin of her arms free of the nails.  I don’t think she is going anywhere.

 

I pull the skin of her breast tightly across the beam.  Two nails on each side of her nipple.  The same for the other breast.  That is four nails per breast.  I consider driving a larger nail through the center of her breast, then decide against it.  Perhaps if her breasts were larger, but the visual effect I have created is pleasing enough.  But wait, in my fantasy I would never make that decision.  I take out two larger spikes, perhaps 3 inches long and 1/8 inch in diameter.  I push the point of one into the center of her breast, stretched out by smaller nails.  I pound the hammer against the head three times.  The first drives the nail through her breast, the second drives it well into the beam, the third drives the head of the nail tightly against her breast, flattening it against the beam. 

 

I take two fish hooks – piercing each nipple with a hook.  I hang small weights from each hook, hanging them over the beam and stretching her nipples out painfully.  Now, I am ready to begin the real torture.

 

A double edged razor blade – the kind we used to screw into our razors and shave with.  You can still find single edge in the paint department at your local Home Depot – they fit into your paint scraper.  But a double edge – now that’s a thing of beauty.  So thin it bends as you use it.  It can get away from you.  It can twist and turn as it cuts.  It can slice so quickly.  It is so extraordinarily sharp.  I must be careful.  Although I intend to cut pixie and make her bleed, I don’t want to have her bleed to death.  There is risk, and that excites both of us.  Fear and anticipation are in the room.  It smells of fear, of excitement, of lust.  Her body is covered in sweat; her cunt juice is running down her legs.  We are ready, the blade and I.  I hope pixie is ready too.

 

I begin on her back.  I slowly draw the razor across her back from left to right, up near her shoulders.  A small line of blood appears behind the blade as it moves across her skin.  Another line two inches lower.  Another line of blood appears.  All the way down her back.  With each cut, she moans and cries out.  But there is no stopping.  When I reach her lower back,  I begin the same process cutting from the top to the bottom, so that her back is a checkerboard of cuts.  Blood flows slowly from the deeper cuts.

 

Next I begin the process on her buttocks.  The skin is softer here, the cuts deeper, the blood runs more freely.  I draw perhaps twelve cuts across her ass.  Later I will come back and cane her here, roughening up the edges of the cuts, insuring that the healing process is extended, the pain and the itching from it lasting longer. 

 

I move on down on cut the backs of her thighs, all the way to her knees.  I repeat the process on the fronts of her thighs.  She is a mass of razor cuts, blood everywhere on her body.  But not enough.  There are still her arms, along the line of nails.  I make short incisions along each arm.  A row of stripes perpendicular to the beam.  They run from her wrists to her shoulders.  And yes, those perfect white breasts.  We must make them bleed for us too.  Again I draw the blade across, through, her skin.  Slices across each breast, more blood.  It is a beautiful sight.

 

But wait, I almost forgot – I stretch out her cunt lip and gently, oh so gently, draw the blade perpendicularly across it, making a small knick, a paper cut almost in her lip.  I make several such cuts before moving to the other lip.  It gets the same treatment.  All around her cunt and thighs and asshole, the most tender spots between her legs – they all get the blade applied to them, just small cuts, but many, and close together, and all of them bleeding slightly.

 

I pause to admire the work.  I play with her clit.  I touch her and make her come.  Her convulsions hurt her, as her body moves against the nails.   Every squirm causes her skin and flesh to twist against the hard steel through her arms.

 

I take a thin cane, almost a switch.  I apply it across her back, again and again, no pause, no mercy, no recovery time.  Just a constant swish, thwack, swish, thwack, across her back and shoulders.  I do the same on the tops of her arms.  I pick out a larger, thuddier cane for her butt.  Six good strokes across the razor cuts, the slices in her skin fraying and widening.  Six more, then six more.  I lose count.  It is a constant caning; it goes on for 10 minutes.  She is limp as a rag but struggles to remain conscious and upright, lest she fall and end up hanging from the skin of her arms.  I beat her until I am exhausted from the effort.  Finally, I spread her cheeks and use her ass to assuage my need.

 

Lastly, I get a small bowl of water and a box of salt.  I pour a handful of salt into my cupped hand and mix it with a little water.  I rub my hands together creating a gritty wet mix which I begin to rub all across pixie’s back.  She screams in agony as the salt works its way into the wounds.  When I am finished, I hose her off and begin removing the nails.  As the last one comes out she collapses, hanging from the ropes still tied around her wrists.  I release her and carry her to the bed, cover her, and hold her as the recovery process begins.

 

Do you believe I would do this pixie?  Do you truly know the darkest corners of my mind?  Do you dare even think about those corners?  Do not tempt me, or try to lead me out of this darkness, or “lure me over the line,” as you put it.  We can play along the edges of this, but there are parts of Scary Richard that should not see the light of day.  When we part, we will have memories, and we will try not to leave things undone that we wish we had done, but we will not go into the darkest recesses of my mind, where the fantasies begin and grow and have no limits.  When we part, we will know that we have looked in, we have touched it, but we have not completely given control to what is in there.  We will know what is in there, and we will know that we could have gone in, were willing to go in, lusted after what was in there, but wisely left something to wonder at, something that will continue to feed future fantasies, something to hold in front of us that  even though we don’t fully understand it, we will know that we shared it.  We do share it, don’t we pixie?  It has no limits, does it pixie?  It is absolute, and dark, and irresistible, and frightening, and compelling, isn’t it pixie?  It is what we are, the two of us, isn’t it pixie?  Look into that dark space with me pixie, but hold on tight to me as we look, and don’t go all the way in there.  It is no place for pixies.

sometimes

Sometimes I wonder what it is that is so deep inside me that makes me want to do some of the things that I want to do. I also wonder sometimes what it is inside of my Owner that makes him want to do to me what he wants to do to me. A few months ago an email from a reader speculated that Richard must have some deep seated hatred of women. I laugh at that. Actually he adores women….me especially. J

I try not to wonder so much. It plagues me every so often though especially when I find I can’t shake a thought. I don’t think Richard thinks too much about the ‘whys’ anymore.

Not that there isn’t a conflict there for him. He has said to me before that he never believed he could hurt someone he loved. The conflict for him regarding me is obvious in my mind. He is fiercely protective of me yet he hurts me. There is no line there like one might expect. I suppose it is hard to explain.

We talk sometimes about how far we would go. How far he would go…and the line turns scary dark when we talk about it. Yet it is a flowing line…erotic and compelling and it lures me to cross over it just as he does. There was a time when the idea of someone putting a knife against my skin would have been a hard limit of mine. Needles….well, they would have been out of the question. I was a bit naïve I suppose. I never even thought of needles or knife play. It wasn’t even anything that Mark and I discussed and he and I certainly experimented a lot. Looking back I think he may be the only other person that I would have trusted to do something like that to me. He was always careful with me, like Richard. I wonder sometimes if there was more to him than what I saw…

Like with Richard. He has this incredibly dark side that scares me. I guess it isn’t him that scares me as much as it is the idea of what he thinks about sometimes. I mentioned before the nails and razor blade fantast he has. And yes I know he commented that some things are best left as fantasy but is that really true? I imagine there was a time where he thought needle play was just something to be fantasized about…where having me tied beneath him as he slowly scores my skin with his knife was only a dream. I wonder what crossed him over. I wonder what it would take to lure him a bit further over the line. Is it simply me being willing? Is it me offering myself to him….like I do every time he touches me?

And what do I think about that? What would I say or think or feel if he left my side and returned to me carrying a razor blade. What would I do if he placed it at my throat…or against my cunt. Could I speak if he asked me to beg him to cut me? I don’t know. Would it be so very different than my knife? What would it feel like….these are my thoughts as I quietly contemplate his fantasies. I don’t have any limits with Richard. He has proven that time and time again and I willingly embrace whatever he gives me.

I am held in a scary yet comforting place…I trust him. I want him to hurt me..to grow me and help me learn and experience everything that I know I want to taste. There is so much.

I wonder, especially now, how much time we have? I worry something will be left undone, or unsaid. I guess I don’t want him to look back at my time with him and wish he had done this or that…I want to complete that series in his head. Maybe so there are no more fantasies….only memories and a sense of fulfillment that we lived it together. After all he has given to me….can’t I in fact leave him with that?

 

Happy Birthday pixiepie

Happy Birthday, pixie pie!

 

pixie had a birthday last week.  She went away for the weekend with Jackson, which turned into a total disaster, but I will leave it to her to describe these events if she chooses.  All I know is that I got a series of text messages from her Saturday afternoon, which culminated in a message saying:  “No more Jackson, Liam is gone, you’re not here, it is storming on my birthday.   Happy Birthday to me.”  This was followed a bit later by another TM saying she was alone and would it be ok if she could see us that day.  I discussed it with L, and a few minutes later, I sent her a TM saying “Make a reservation for dinner for 3 people at 8:30 at the “Photo-Shoot” Hotel.  L says wear something pretty.  See you there.”

 

We arrived a few minutes late and found pixie at the bar drinking a glass of water, wearing the prettiest blue and white patterned dress.  Very nice.  L looked extra nice too.  It turns out she was wearing her lucky pretty pink panties from the night of the photo shoot.  More on that later.

 

We had a wonderful dinner, and pixie told us we had rescued her birthday from a disaster.  We had a bottle of champagne, and as we neared the end of dinner, L said, “we should just get a room.”  I laughed and said stop it, you don’t mean it.  At the end of dinner, we ordered dessert and decided we really needed another glass of champagne (each, of course!!).  The waiter pointed out that for the price of three glasses we could have another bottle, so we quickly decided to have another bottle!  About half way through the bottle, L again said “we should just get a room,” and again I laughed.  When pixie got up to visit the ladies room, L said “I mean it - we should get a room.  I don’t want to go home and pixie shouldn’t be driving all that way home.”  When pixie came back, I excused myself, went to the front desk, and reserved a room.  I came back to the table and told them both we were staying, and everyone laughed.  We finished the second bottle of champagne.

 

We went up to the desk again, and I checked us in and got a pile of toiletries - razors, shaving cream, toothpaste, tooth brushes, a comb, etc.  We had a small plastic bag of stuff - and no luggage - and up the elevator we went. The rooms there are beautiful, and this one was no exception.  We got ready for bed, which pretty much consisted of brushing our teeth, washing our faces, and getting naked.  L modestly left her pink panties on, and pixie left hers on as well, trying to keep L from seeing the bruises and cuts on her butt from our meeting a few days earlier.  I crawled into bed between the two of them, and L said “we need some more champagne.”  Fortunately, we had given pixie a bottle of champagne for her birthday!  We decided we would have a little more.  So pixie and L headed down the hall wrapped in a bedspread for some ice, while I began opening the champagne.  Of course, it was warm, so the pressure was intense, and the cork shot through my hand and put a nice dent in the ceiling, and champagne sprayed all over the wall.  Oops!  Meantime, L and pixie are laughing hysterically in the hallway, half naked, trying to get into the wrong room at 1:00 a.m.  Not good!

 

We drank about 2/3rds of the third bottle.  Finally, I put the rest in the mini-frig and crawled back in between them.  I had one arm around L, a hand cupping her breast.  I had the other hand between pixie’s legs, slowly stroking her, and she had her hand on my groin playing with me.  We were watching The History of Sex on the History Channel, the segment was about the Kama Sutra.  I noticed that L was asleep, and really began to focus on pixie’s cunt.  Then I noticed her hand had stopped moving on me, and I was getting NO reaction to my fingering of her.  None!  Very unusual.  I looked over and she was completely zonked out. I couldn’t believe she fell asleep while I was rubbing her clit!!  She says she merely passed out, lol!  So, all undressed with no place to go, so to speak!  I finally turned over and tried to go to sleep, but spent most of the night tossing and turning. 

 

When pixie woke, I gave her that orgasm she missed the night before.  When we all got up, we took showers and finished the last of the champagne.  Somehow pixie managed to keep her back to L through the entire shower and kept her marks hidden.  Then we went out to another fabulous meal, brunch near the hotel - no champagne this time since we were totally champagned out, lol!

 

We saved pixie’s birthday and had a great time.  The secret seems to be to be casual, have no expectations, avoid sex (drat!) and just enjoy each other’s company.  Did I mention champagne?

helping pixie remember…by Richard

Pixie can’t remember it all, so I have to tell the story.  We were to meet on Thursday night at the apartment.  pixie was to arrive 15 minutes early to change the sheets and get naked.  Her text message said “collar and butt plug?”  And I replied, “just the collar.  Leave the plug for me.”

I arrived to find her standing shyly, naked, with her hands clasped in front of her, providing a bit of modest cover.  She came to me.  I love the way she moves when she sees me, or when I give her permission to come to me - she almost skips through the room, her shyness and eagerness competing.  It is a sight to see.

I held her for a few moments; finally she fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around my legs.  I ran my hands through her hair, holding her, getting her ready for what was to happen between us.  At my direction, she began to help undress me.  I told her to start my shower, and while I was in it to put her cuffs on, ankles and wrists, and meet me with a towel when the shower stopped.

After my shower, I had her lay face down on the bed, head toward the foot.  The bed in the apartment has a shelf unit built over the head board from which I have attached ropes hanging down to the bed.  I stood over pixie, picked her up by her torso and told her to stand on her hands while I attached these ropes to her ankel cuffs.  When I was done, she was suspended by her ankles, but holding herself on her elbows.  I took her hands and stretched them out and tied them to the foot of the bed.  She hung, back arched as her hands were pulled toward the foot of the bed, and completely helpless.  I readied her new butt plug, and pushed it into her.  I was in a fairly sadistc mindset, so I did not give her a lot of time to get ready - I just pushed it in and she cried out as the thickest part entered her.

She was completely at my mercy, but I was not in the mood to show her any mercy.  I selected a medium sized cane, the nicest one with the leather handle, and tapped her on the butt to show her what I was using, and then brought it hard across her cheeks.  She gasped.  I repeated the stroke, several in a row.  Beautiful red welts appeared on her ass.  I touched her back with the cane and she writhed in anticipation.  When I touched her cunt it was dripping.   Juice was running down her stomach, KY was running down her butt.  A slight sheen of sweat glistened on her body, a sure sign that she was under stress.  Not that that meant she wasn’t enjoying it.  As I rubbed her cunt, I told her she did not need to ask permission this night, she could cum at will.  And cum she did.  As I rubbed her and caned her she convulsed into a string of orgasms, impossible to know when one ended and another began.  She twisted against the ropes, hanging helplessly, and her body writhed and turned in pleasure and pain.  At one point she cried out, and begged me “not so hard, please…”  While I took this into account, I did not stop, I merely slowed the pace of the caning.  I caned her lightly on her arms, her back, her thighs front and back.  I reserved the severe strokes for her ass, now red all over and covered with welts.  It was beautiful.  I mean, it was truly beautiful.  The whole picture of her hanging there, helpless, in pain, cumming almost uncontrollably, totally at my mercy - a Dominant’s dream.

Finally I stuck two fingers in her and rubbed her g-spot, and continued caning her.  Suddenly, her body stiffened, and she clutched on my fingers, and the most amazing orgasm I have ever seen started.  Suddenly her butt plug (remember her post?  “Wow its big!”) shot out of her butt and rolled down her back.  I tried to stifle a laugh, but she said “what just happened?” and then we both burst into laughter.  Honest to God, she just shot it out, and it has a nice bulge on it - it would never slip out accidently.  It is big!  It was pretty funny, and it effectively ended that part of the scene, lol. 

I took her down from the suspension, straddled her body, and began fucking her ass.  I took her knife, the large 10-inch kitchen knife, and began scraping her back, loving that sound the blade makes when it scrapes along her skin.  Then I drew the sharp edge of the blade slowly across her ass several times.  One line in particular began to show small drops of blood.  I repeated this process until I got one or two good cuts in each cheek.  I then returned to the cane, caning the cuts, making them bleed a bit more.  I pressed hard into her and she again went through a series of orgasms.  Serously, the girl can cum like no one I have ever known.  Finally I rolled her over and came in her mouth, making her hold it until she came again for me, then telling her to swallow. 

It was a very hard scene - basiclally no warm-up, hard caning, the knife - it went a long way toward pixie and I reestablishing that level of dominance and submission that we have had from the start.  We put aside all the worry and angst, about the future, about the past, about L - and we just did what we do, strive for that enhanced level of domanance and submission, where the better each of is, the better the other is - it feeds on itself, we feed on each other.  It left us both exhilarated and exhausted.

She begged and begged me not to put alcohol on the cuts, but I did it anyway.  She later asked if I had done it purely for medicinal reasons, or whether her begging and the pain was part of the reason.  I know she was a little disappointed when I told her it was for medical reasons, but I will admit the begging was not a bad thing!

After a rest, I tied pixie’s arms to the head of the bed with her propped up against some pillows on her back.  Yes it was time for some needles.  It had been a long time since we had done needles, in part because it isn’t something you can do often, in part because it takes a long time (and our time together has been less free since L’s return), and partly due to pixie’s illness and worry about infection. But she had been asking, and I had been thinking about it, and it seemed like a good night for it.

After wiping her with alcohol, I put three needles through the skin under each of her arms.  She resisted at first, twisting, and saying “no.”  But after the first two, she relaxed.  She slipped away a little, but not totally.  I then put a needle on each side of each nipple, and then one through each nipple.  That was realy the only time she cried out.  I then let her rest and enjoy the sensation.  She turned her hips slightly to one side and I stuck two needles into her butt., and later on more into her thigh near her vagina.  Fifteen needles.  She seemed to slip in and out of subspace, kind of dreamy, yet not totally gone.  She asked me not to take them out yet, and so I left them in a while longer.  Finally, she was pretty much gone into subspace - I quickly removed the needles, and had one or two which bled a bit, so I wiped all of her puncture wounds with alcohol until the bleeding stopped.  I then cleaned up, untied her and held her closely.

It was a strange come-down.  Usually, pixie curls up in a ball for some period of total quietness.  Then she drifts off to sleep for a bit - I can feel her twitch slightly, and then her breathing changes and I know she is asleep.  After a while, anywhere from 5 minutes to an hour, she slowly wakens and begins to talk in short sentences spaced well apart.  On this night, she became incredibly sensitive to sound and light.  Every small sound, from the neighboring apartment, the parking lot, the toilet flushing itself (yes, the toilet has a leak so it runs and occassionally refills and sounds like a flush - I’d have the landlord fix it but there is this wooden cross leaning up against the wall…) - at each of these sounds pixie would start, and I would reassure her everything is ok.  But it continued to the point where she was burying her head under the pillow to avoid the sound and light.  This sensation continued until after she was home.  At the end of the night I followed her to her exit to make sure she made it ok, and she said that cars passing her were frightening with the sound and the light and the difficulty she was having with it.  We have never seen anything like this and have no e xplanation for it.

I was a harsh Owner that night.  I demanded much of pixie.  A hard caning, the knife, the needles, all in one night.  I also told her about my fantasy involving nails and razor blades - she says she wants to do it - I think not.  Some things are better left in my perverted mind.  Maybe I will write about this fantasy one day, but I know you will all believe we have actually done it.  Anyway, I mention it only to demonstrate the level our relationship has reached.  She would do anything I asked of her.  My job is not to ask too much.  She has no way of protecting herself from the sadism that is in my head - there is complete trust - and it is a responsibilty I understand and take seriously.  I don’t say this to encourage another round of questions: “how do you know when to stop?”, “Do you worry that scary Richard won’t stop?”, etc.  I don’t have the answers to these questions.  I just know that when pixie and I have a night like last Thursday, all that we have, and all that we are to each other, settles back into a good place.  All that we know is coming just disappears in the face of what we have now.  It is good.  That result pixie does remember - the rest she can read here to remind her of the parts she may have forgotten.

a look at my playful Dominant…oh! and a new pink friend

Don’t you just love text messages? J

 

“Good morning pet, I got you a toy.”

“You haven’t called me pet in years. J Good morning to you too Sir, what did you get me?”

“I’m not telling. And I call you pet all of the time. Among other things.”

“What did you get me?”

“Something you have wanted. Something you need.”

“A chastity belt?”

“Lol. Good guess. No sweetheart, not a chastity belt. I said something you wanted.”

“A whip?”

“You want a whip?”

“Uh…never mind Sir. I think I will stop guessing now.”

“Good idea. I will give it to you at lunch today. Noon. See you then.”

“Yes Sir, see you then.”

“And pixie?”

“Yes Sir?”

“I love you.”

“Lol…yes Sir. I know.”

 

Three hours later I am in my house with Richard and right away I recognize that mischievous look he can sometimes get. I knew what my gift was as soon as I saw his face.

“First…L’s gift.” he handed me a little box of delicious dark chocolates that she and I both share a passion for. I was pleased and touched that she had thought to give me a gift considering that our contact has been almost non existent since our fiasco of a shared vacation.  I’ve missed her a lot so the gift made me smile.

“Now…this is from me.”

“I know what it is.” I told him and he smiled at me and laughed. He helped me open it and placed it in my hand. It felt rubbery and heavy.

He smiled…this time bigger. “It’s pink!” he laughed quite pleased with himself.

“This one will stay where I put it. What do you think?”

“I think…well, I think that it is too big.”

More laughing.

“No pixie pie it looks bigger than it is. Look here at this part. This is the thickest part and once it is in…well, that is the worst part. You’ll close around this narrow part and it will be nice and tight.”

“It’s big.”

“Thank your Owner for thinking of you.”

I stood on my tippy toes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you Sir. Will we use it Thursday night?”

Thursday was our planned night together this week.

“No. We’ll us it now.” Uh…what, I thought. No way.

“We can’t…there is no way. I have to go back to my office. Plus…I don’t have any lubricant.”

“Yes I know you have to go back to work. You will wear this for me back to work. As far as the lack of lubricant; that is not my problem pet…you are to have all of that for us. It is really the only responsibility I have given you, that and cleaning the apartment.”

I didn’t say anything about that. I didn’t want that brought up at all. I hadn’t been a very good submissive regarding our apartment. It only needs dusting, vacuuming and clean towels/sheets but I rarely find the time to do it. We really need a maid there once a month.

 

He followed me upstairs to my bedroom and I felt extremely self conscious with him walking close behind me. His hand stayed on my lower back as we walked upstairs but he kept playfully slipping his hand up the back of my skirt.

 

“What’s this? Panties?” He looked me a little disapprovingly but I could still see a tease in his eyes. Looks like that stop my heart. J

 

“Yes Sir…I just forgot….”

“It’s OK pet…let me see.”

By now we were in my bedroom and he told me to bend over the bed. He flipped my skirt up and told me my panties were so cute he could forgive me for leaving them on.

 

“Now…what are going to do about lube?” he queried as he started to touch me with the new plug…he rubbed it around and pressed it a little inside my cunt.

“I think you are wet enough so I could just use your own juices…or I could use toothpaste.”

“Toothpaste?” I said almost standing up but he pushed me right back down.

“Yes..toothpaste, can you imagine how that would hurt?”

“And I would be minty fresh too.”

He laughed but he said.. “One day we’ll do that…today since this is a new plug and I am sending you right back to work after I spank you I will use your cunt juice.”

He started to work it up inside of me. At first it was alright and then as it got thicker I felt myself stretch…and it started to hurt.

“This would be easier with more lube…from now on make sure you have what I tell you to have. Understand?”

“Yes Sir.”

I struggled to take it but finally it was in and he stepped back to admire it.

“Yes…pink IS your color.”

 

 

 

putting it back together

The apartment felt cool to both of us when we walked in. I detest the cold so we immediately turned the air down. I knew one or both of us would be completely if not fully undressed so I had hoped to make it as comfortable as possible. He sat down and he motioned for me to kneel beside him so we could chat. I love feeling close to him like this. Just being beside him. Being his focus and being able to make him my focus…is a wonderful feeling.

“Unbutton my shirt pixie.” I crawled over a little closer to him and began to unbutton the satiny feeling buttons on his green and white striped dress shirt. I breathed in his familiar smell and felt the involuntary clenching of in my cunt when is hands came around and found my nipples. As I continued to unbutton his shirt he played with me, he pulled my small summer dress over my head and tossed it on the chair behind me. I was naked beneath the pale yellow cotton of my sundress and he pushed me away just a little so his eyes could take in my nakedness. Richard is like that. He thinks I am beautiful and he makes me feel beautiful like no other man has ever been able to do. It is in his gaze and in his fingers as they trace my skin or the outline of my cheek across my face. I think that is why I was able to let go of my modesty with him as quickly as what I did. He demanded it. He took that from me by demanding me to hold my cunt open for him and by bending over and holding myself open so he could touch and see and explore me.

He pushed me back down to my knees again.

“Turn around pixie; I want you on your hands and knees. Bottom high..thats a good girl. Arch your back up for me. Thats right.” As he spoke his hands touched me pressing into my back reminding me just how he needed me to be positioned. His foot was between my knees and he softly nudged my legs further apart.

“Open pixie…don’t close yourself. You know better.” His finger played around my cunt..circling my clit but never dipping inside the dampness that was quickly forming. “Ahh…” he said appreciatively. ” Always such a good little cunt for your Owner, aren’t you pixie. I’ve barely touched you and you are already wet for me. Aren’t you?”

“Yes Sir.” I said arching back just a little pressing myself into him loving the surrender of knowing he would do whatever he wanted.

“You need a spanking…how long has it been since I have spanked you pixie? I think it has been too long.”

I wiggled my bottom a little hoping he would take that as the affirmative answer. I did need a spanking. I had felt that build up inside myself for the past few days and I can recognize what it is. I needed him to pull me back to him…and in the best way possible..through pain and need and taking he would give me what I needed.

His hand caressed my bottom softly and his finger traced down from the bottom of my spine around to my damp cunt tickling me in between and making me wonder what he would do to me after spanking me. I giggled sort of sighing in pleasure at his touch.

His hand suddenly was in my hair at the back of my neck. He yanked my head back and held it so he could look right into my face.

“I am NOT playing with you pixie.” he said his hand tightening in my hair. He pulled me up by my hair and my hands clutched at his arms trying to twist away from the pain in my head. He tossed me backwards onto the bed and flipped me over so I was face down on the bed. I felt him gather my wrist behind me and bind me tightly with rope….he then pulled the rope around slightly and circled it around my neck two or three times. It was tight but not so tight I could breath. I couldn’t turn my head or move my arms or it would tighten further and cut off my air. My Owner is a genius at ropes.

 

“Are you still laughing pixie?

“No..no Sir.” He was between my legs and I heard the clink of the cuffs as he tightened them around my ankles. I felt the roughness of the wooden spreader bar as he spread my legs wide and connected the bar to the cuffs. He added another set of cuffs to my thighs and connected a smaller spreader bar to them. I struggled a little realizing I was almost immobile. I couldn’t close my legs at all. I couldn’t move my arms or turn my head. He added the black ball gag and then tied a scarf around the gag making sure I couldn’t get it out.

“I need you still and quiet pixie.” He rolled me over and I struggled almost panicking because I realized with added tightness across my arms I couldn’t breath. The ropes bit into my neck and it as hard for me to take a deep breath. I got that hot feeling in my chest…that scary feeling like it was going to explode.

 

Richard just watched me. His eyes darker than usual, he had that look on his face. The one where my suffering arouses him to such a state neither one of us know what is going to happen next. He said some things to me and I don’t remember what he said. I just remember him flipping me roughly back over onto me stomach and then almost instantly feeling his body covering my own.

 

His hands and lips touched my skin…all around my neck and my shoulders and I could tell he was listening to my breathing making sure I was ok. He must have recognized that look in my eyes….the one that tells him I am in that place he created for me. The one where I can take anything he needs for me to take, the one where the only feelings are pleasure and submission. He began to spank me…hard stinging smacks with the flat of his hand. Up and down the backs of my legs and on my bottom. The sound… an almost soothing cadence that I didn’t want to stop. I felt a little sweaty and closed my eyes letting the sensations fall like sparks around me amazed at the pure pleasure I was getting from  him hitting me.

He paused long enough to bring the strap to the bed. He folded it over in his hand and I felt his other hand on the back of my neck. He pressed me hard down into the bed and I felt the ropes tighten again but I could still breath.

 

The strap landed on my bottom a dozen times, maybe two before I was openly sobbing and asking him to stop. It was a release I needed though…I didn’t need the pain to stop. I just needed something else. He untied me and pulled me down to the floor in front of him. His words sounded like dull buzzes in my ear that I instinctively obeyed. He removed the gag and the spreader bars. I heard them fall to the floor and hated the rubbery taste the gag left in my mouth.

 

“Look at me pixie.” His voice was rough and gentle at the same time. I looked up at him and he smacked my face….once and then again before pressing my forehead against the floor. He told me to arch my back for him. “Don’t move…” he warned me. I wouldn’t have dared. I felt his hand press against my hot cunt and he rubbed me briefly and I was begging him to let me cum. He said yes….and I did instantly. The rope hung loosely around my neck and he pulled me up by it so that I was on my knees once again in front of him.

 

He told me to breathe …again he said holding my head against his leg stroking my hair and my back. I trembled each time he touched me. There is something there that is impossible to explain….that feeling that follows us into the room, that feeling that follows us wherever we go. I can’t describe that. What series of words can explain submitting to someone and trusting someone enough to give him…really truly give him your body knowing he will hurt it. I do that. I do that whenever he touches me and demands that of me. And each time that feeling grows and it heals and it covers old fears and builds small bridges and connections over the dirty waters that flow through me still that I have not yet purged. It and he is good for me. The pain and safety and trust all builds up and makes me see myself as worth of the strength it takes to give it all to him….the love and the affection I get from him make it possible to take the pain and use it to heal myself and feel good about what it is that I need. That is why I was so freaked out when I thought he was removing that element of what we share…it is why I wouldn’t walk with him another day without trusting that the love and softness and the safety that is always tender at the end of the pain would be there.

 

“I am going to cane you pixie…you are ready…you need it as badly as I need it. Don’t you?”

I pressed my head against his thigh… “Yes Sir…” I whispered it softly but he heard me. He knew what I needed….that I needed to hear the slice of the cane and feel the bite of it across my back. I needed it.

With the rope in his hand he led me across the room…I crawled after him like a small pet and he patted the chair telling me to bend across it.

He tied the rope to the chair and the black knot in front of me was the reminder that I was owned….I was tied to a chair…naked, sweaty and hot.

“ Ask me to cane you pet. Beg me….tell me you need it.” As he spoke he pressed two fingers deep inside my cunt in search of that sweet spot only he has ever touched. I begged him to cane me…I meant every word knowing I needed it…already imagining the sting. Hoping he would ignore my whimpers and my begging when it got to be too much. Hoping in my mind that he would make me take more than even I think I can take. It’s a limit that hasn’t been broken in awhile.

I felt the cane rest softly against my back…it felt deceivingly heavy. He walked around me and knelt down in front of me. He kissed me softly…told me I was safe…that he was there and that he loved me. Again…that I was safe. I closed my eyes and felt my fingernails did into the plushness of the chair. The cane came down.

Over and over he brought the cane down across my bottom and my back. He was doing five or six quick not so hard blows followed by two or three that I could barely breath through. I was panting and moaning trying so hard to stay on top of the pain yet feeling myself sinking further and further away until I felt nothing. I only heard myself breathing. I heard the cane. I heard him breathing all as if it was through a tube held close to my ear. I felt wetness drip down my thighs and I felt his fingers play with me. I felt and tasted my own juices as he rubbed his hand across my face and slipped his fingers into my mouth. Feeding me my submission even as he hurt me. Then I felt his cock press against my cunt and he pushed deep inside me pressing me deep into the chair. He thrust harder and harder before stopping.

“I am going to fuck your ass pixie.” I think I mumbled a ‘no’…I am not always able to take him that way. I knew physically I could…he had trained me to take all of him deep inside my ass…he had trained me to love it, to cum with him inside me. But at times the thought if him taking me that way scares me. He is endowed enough so that it is always hard for me…especially when scary Richard is just below the surface…especially when there was no lube in sight. “ Ask me to fuck your ass.”

“Richard…Sir…please, please fuck my ass.”

“Good girl…what a good girl you are.” He was playing with the swollen marks across my bottom pinching me and making me squirm even more.

“Reach back and spread those cheeks for me…that’s right. Show me what a good slut you are for your Owner. Hold yourself open pixie…now beg me again.” He said the last sentence when his cock was pressed right against my asshole. As the words left my mouth he thrust hard and deep inside of me. His hand came around and covered my mouth holding me hard to him pressing my face down into the chair. He was fucking my ass hard…..so hard I lost my breath, lost my ability to think of anything outside of him using me…of him owning me. I tried to speak and he pulled my head up by my hair… “What…what are you asking me?”

“Please Sir…may I cum”

“Ahh…yes my cunt…cum for your Owner.” He pushed my head back down and thrust deeper inside of me until surely I was tearing in two. I came hard against him and heard him moan and quickly pull out of me. He pulled my head up again and moved around me so his cock was right in front of my face. I opened my mouth and he filled my mouth with his cock just in time for me to catch his cum. His hand on the back of my neck made sure I took him deeply…I tasted myself blended with the taste of him. I held his cum in my mouth even after he took his cock out…even after he pulled me off the chair and held me tight against him…even after he led me to the bed.

He laid me down beside him and covered us both with a sheet. “You may swallow pixie.” He knew I was waiting for his permission. I knew he expected that. I swallowed him and he kissed me…kissed my lips and my face before tucking me under his chin…wrapping his arms around my body and telling me to rest.

my protector

I can’t believe I forgot to remember to write about this. It was one of the several truly wonderful memories of our time at the beach together. We were getting ready for dinner. It was the evening that I had been left alone on the beach for the hour or so when R and L returned to the room. I was not in a good state of mind. I felt resentful and for the lack of a better word pouty. Not a good combination when you are in the company of a grumpy sleep deprived Owner. When he returned from the room he found me asleep under the umbrella on the beach trying to get out of the blaring sun and sand storm that had temporarily found its way to our paradise. He shook me gently and sweetly asked me if I was alright. I didn’t answer  him. I just closed my eyes as my last attempt to keep him from seeing the hurt inside of them. He uncovered me and said we were going back to the room. It was lunch time and I think we were going shopping. He looked down at me and covered my shoulders with the towel.

 

“For the rest of the day you are NOT to leave my sight.” He said sternly. “I do not want you farther away from me than three feet for the rest of the day. Do you understand?” My first thought was shock. He acted as if I wandered away and had gotten lost. Then something inside me smiled a little because I knew what he was doing. It was his way of acknowledging that I felt alone and abandoned. I think it was also a message to L that I did have a place with him and I did have a place with them that weekend. This was also the evening that I had suggested L and Richard go have dinner alone so I was thinking of that. Not too long after he told me that he meant ALL day and that I would not be left alone again.

 

Anyway so later that day we were on a patio with the ocean behind us and the pool to our right. L dozed on a lounge chair while Richard and I chatted. I was still feeling not quite right. I was just hurt. I knew Richard had lied to me and I was cold to him. He followed the three foot rule for most of the afternoon. We walked to the bar together a few times to retrieve Malibu and cokes for all of us. I think we were all pretty relaxed albeit pissed off (me). I was hot. I was bored after a while and asked to go back down to the beach. Maybe later he told me. I was so bored I ended up chatting with a really sweet Indian lady near the pool.

 

Richard was asleep. L was asleep and I was bored. I was hot. So I left my Owner there on his chair and walked down to the beach by myself. I swam in the cool blue water for about half an hour. It felt so amazing…I felt refreshed and just swam and swam and swam. I walked back up to the deck and they were still asleep. I just got more angry because I imagined if I had sex all morning I would need a nap too. But I hadn’t. So I flopped down beside him a little louder than I needed to. It jolted him awake and when he gave me that sweet sleepy smile I ALMOST felt guilty. But I didn’t.

 

“You alright?” He asked.

“I am just great…I went swimming.”

“In the pool?”

“No…I went to the beach. I swam in the ocean.” I tried to keep the sing song I dind it even when you said I couldn’t little girl voice to a minimum. I realized that was the mood I was in. I was angry and resentful and so I acted out. I see it pretty clearly now..maybe I did even then.

He looked at me and said nothing for a few minutes.

“You went to the beach after I told you not to.”

“Oh…you meant that?” I said leaving off …are we going to start doing what we say from now on. Because he sure hadn’t.

Again..he said nothing. A few minutes later L woke up and we all chatted for a few minutes. She asked me if I was having a good time and I told her that I was having a wonderful time, that I just got out of the sea. She said that was nice and asked me how te water was. I got pleasure in bragging to her that I had disobeyed Richard even though she didn’t know he had told me not to. I cut my eyes towards him and he gave me a smoldering glance and then suggested we all go get ready for dinner.

 

So we abandoned our chairs and walked together upstairs. Me..still pouty ( and this is where I contributed to the failure of the weekend. We dressed and showered and I was cold to Richard the entire time. A lot is said here about L being forced to deal with this situation. Well…no one forced her to join me in shower and that told me something.

 

Anyway…after the shower I was getting dressed and Richard was already ready. It takes L forever to get ready so after awhile it was just Richard and I together on the balcony overlooking the ocean. He was angry with me. I could see it on his face. I had blatantly disobeyed him and then rubbed his face in it. I felt it was justified because he had blatantly lied to me and then allowed me to feel humiliated because of it. I forgot that isn’t how Ownership worked…see like I said before I wasn’t feeling too good about my submission and my trust in my Owner had been badly bruised. So when I walked past him and he reached for me I couldn’t help but turn away. He pulled me into the bedroom and practically flung me to the bed. He yelled at me to clean my clothes up off the bed. Yes…he raised his voice to me. The first time. He didn’t wait for me to obey him or not. he was just angry and frustrated and he needed me to know it. I was angry too and confused as to why he was angry with me. I had been the one hurt that day. Left alone and ignored…and why..in the name of submission or selfishness? That is how I saw it. So when he pushed me back against the bed and told me to lift my skirt I straightened up and looked him right in the eye and said no.

 

At this point L walked into the room took one look at her husband and walked away. I crossed my arms and glared at him. “Now.” he said. His voice calm now but laced with a warning that I had never heard from him before. I was too angry, too indignant to realize how sexy he was at that very second…lol. But don’t tell him I said that.

 

I said no again. He stepped away.

 

“Is this how you see us? When you take away my ability to Dominate you, when you take away my expectation that you will obey me you are telling me you don’t need me, that you don’t want this.”

 

I remained quiet. My mind was screaming….yes and when you lie to me. When you ignore me and pretend my feeling mean nothing to you…when you make me feel horrible about what I am to you are telling me you don’t need me.

 

L walked back into the room. “Do you need me to leave you two alone for a minute?”

 

His eyes never left me. “Yes.”

“We have reservations at nine.” she said. His eyes never left me. “Uh..ok then..I will see you outside.”

She told me later she was afraid to leave me alone with him..lol, that she was afraid he was going to spank me and hurt me. Funny thing was…that is just what I wanted him to do. I wish that he had. When he told me to pull up my skirt and I said no…I wish he had smacked my face. I wish he had pushed me over and pulled my skirt up. To me that is what my old Dominant would have done…in my mind this Dominant was allowing L to define what it was he did and said to me. He let me down.

 

What I don’t think he realized right away was the effect his words had on me. He lectured me pretty severely and warned me to get and keep my head on straight. That he was counting on me to not make trouble. He pulled me against him and hugged me before we followed L outside. I had big tears in my eyes that I never let fall. I was quiet and subdued but mostly I was floaty and subbie and completely on the edges of subspace. I am not sure why..maybe his voice scared me, maybe his restrained anger reminded me of what he has done and he was capable of doing to me.

 

By the time we were at the restaurant I was barely able to think. L asked me if I was alright about three times. I heard R tell her I was fine. It was then I think he realized I wasn’t quite myself. The menu was in front of me and I had no idea what was on it. There was no way I could make a choice. They discussed wine and champagne and I just nodded. The bottle was ordered and my glass was filled and I hardly noticed. He ordered for me. It was a little funny I think looking back because in my head I was thinking just please nobody ask me to do anything or answer a question. I focused on Richard reassuring and understanding gaze across the table from me. I felt better. I realized he knew right where my mind was.

 

The food was delicious. The wine was amazing. They both know just what to order and it was perfect. What wasn’t perfect was the table behind us. And this is the part I can’t believe I forgot to write about. There was a table behind us of about 5 or 6. One man was incredibly obnoxious. We were in an upscale restaurant and you don’t expect to see or hear some of what was coming out of this guys mouth. Their desert was served and he made the comment to the other guy that he needed to eat it because he could guarantee he had not had an orgasm like that since before he was married.

 

I though….OMG this guy is like five years old. I said as much to Richard and L and then turned around and glared at him. I am typically pretty tolerable of stupidity but today I was not in the mood. I was feeling like I needed a quiet space and he was being an ass. The table saw me glare at him and one of them must have told him to quiet down.

The words came to our table quite clearly He said. “She just needs fucked. Too bad she is out with her parents.”

 

We could not believe he said that. I was embarrassed. I almost said something but remembered my own manners. L and I chatted for a few minutes about what he had said. I noticed that my Owner was strangely quiet. He had a look on his face that I could almost recognize. It smoldered and drew me into him only it wasn’t for me. He was tense and his eyes never left the table behind me. A moment later when Mr. Loudmouth…let’s call him Mickey got up and walked to the restroom L and I were startled when Richard calmly laid his napkin aside and followed him.

 

It gets better. The two other men at the other table looked at each other and followed Richard.

 

L and I just looked at each other. I asked what he was doing and she said she didn’t know. We waited to hear the police siren or the ambulance. A few minutes later my Owner calmly walked back to our table. He reached over and patted my hand and told me not to look so worried. He laughed at my expression and told L he was fine. “What did you do?” L and I asked him at the same time. “Nothing…I just told him he owed pixie an apology for how he was acting and what he said about her.”

I didn’t know what to say. Did men really do that? Had he really just defended me?

 

I was still a little floaty and I think that always brings out R’s protective streak. He knew that I was vulnerable and that the man behind us was out of line. I was amazed when the loud man stopped at our table on the way back to his own.

 

“Excuse me. I wanted to apologize to you if my words or actions impeded on your evening at all. When the gentleman told me what I had said I didn’t remember. I didn’t think I had been so rude; my friends confirmed that I had in fact been insulting. I apologize.” He touched my hand and then reached over and shook Richard’s thanking him. Richard thanked him back and the man turned and sheepishly returned to his table. The restaurant was silent. Every mouth at his table was wide open.

 

L was amazed. I was proud…so proud that my Owner did the right thing. Chivalry is not dead.

 

I realized then once again at how important I am to him. What he thinks of me and how he needs me. That night I did cuddle against him. I knew he had forgive me for my behavior. I whispered it to him as we were falling asleep. I told him I was sorry I had lost my place…that I loved him and needed his forgiveness. He said there was nothing to forgive. He said it was over, forgotten and I wouldn’t be punished for it.

 

I woke up to have his arm around me and feeling at peace for the moment in where we were knowing we had some holes to climb out of and not all together sure they wouldn’t backfill on us.

 

Tonight I am remembering that evening with a big grin. Amazed that I could go from feeling so un-owned to se entirely wrapped up in him and what we each give the other. I truly believe that with enough patience, respect and acknowledgment of the other’s needs (not to mention confidence in your own role) that this will work.

 

I am also still looking forward. This weekend I am taking a trip with Jackson. Yes…lol, Jackson. He is flying me to Rehoboth Beach…Delaware I think. He is looking at a golf course there and asked me to go along. So we leave Friday and return Sunday.

 

I am just keeping busy and distracting myself. Yes, I like him. No, it isn’t love. It may never progress into anything like that. I know R feels conflicted about my dating. I know we both wonder if I am ready. I think I have to. I think I have to add people to my life who I can see anytime I want.

 

It will be good for me, good for all three of us.