bdsm · Life in general · spanking

Little girl

M called me ‘little girl’ today and I was caught off guard by how I reacted. It was only teasing words typed across my screen but when I read it I shivered with longing. I felt very lonely for him at that moment. I longed to hear his voice say it into my ear. It was not so much a sexual thing as something else but because the power exchange between us is so linked to eroticism for me I admit… it was a thrill.

I’m not a little girl, I’m an adult woman with all the responsibilities that entails yet when he called me that I realized how close the line from adult to child the role of being ‘owned’ or ‘pet’ or even just ‘submissive’ is. It is the power exchange….the ability of the submissive to allow another person to make the decisions, to care for her, to set the limits and the rules and ultimately provide discipline for infractions.  I was startled by the safe feeling that grew inside me as I began to think this through. Do I want to be a child again, not at all. With M, well I’ll be anything he asks me to be and I think we have touched on some age play before….it’s not really role playing but more of a natural interaction that flows between us that is reflective of the real difference in our ages and I suppose even our maturity level and worldliness. Couple that with the fierce power exchange between us and there is no wonder he hasn’t called my by my real name in ages….he prefers ‘pet’, or ‘little one’ and I just melt when he says that. I’ve never been able to fully explain that feeling but I am a step closer tonight.

As you well know some D/s theorist claim that a submissive woman often decides to be submissive because it is a release from the power, responsibility and control they deal with day to day……whatever, I don’t worry too much about what other people say in regards to what makes me tick. To me, it feels natural and good and it’s right where I want to be. On that note, maybe there is something to be said for the mind’s ability to provide a person in one form or the other what they lacked as a child. I had never given too much thought to a person’s childhood making someone dominant or submissive, gay or straight, a bully or a victim. I have said before and I truly believe most of this is biological.

 I think too much. I think back to my own childhood and I think that I am doing that more and more as I prepare to move back to the area where I grew up. For the most part I think I was a happy kid, as far back as I can remember anyway. I do not have any memories before my tenth birthday. I am not sure if that is odd or not. But I do remember the feelings associated with my early childhood. I was lonely, I think that emotionally I was neglected by my mother. I remember her ignoring me and to this day if someone ignores me it is crushing to my spirit like nothing else. Another reason why M and I agree that withdrawing affection as a form of punishment is not appropriate. I also remember overwhelming feelings of guilt and inadequacy from an early age. I remember my mother’s anger towards me that my father and I were close, I was taunted that I was ‘his favorite’ and often would try to distance myself from him to seek her approval. I never got it. I remember seeing her with my brother and sister clowning around and being close and wondering what was wrong with me and what I had done or what I wasn’t doing to be deserving of her love. She was never physically abusive towards me, though she allowed my older brother to be. I also remember being afraid to tell my father that she allowed that. She told me not to. She didn’t want him in trouble, I am only now beginning to recognize the message that sent me as a child and it’s implications in my adult life. I don’t know why I was afraid to tell him. I don’t remember her ever touching me much at all. At least not all the hugs and kisses I remember seeing my brother and sister get. I admit that even now as a mature and successful adult woman I require a lot of attention and reassurance from those who love me. She (my mother) claims I have jaded and very wrong recollection of my childhood. I know how I was made to feel regardless if it was intentional or not, I would never expect her to take any responsibility for my feelings. Even as a child we were responsible for hers. We don’t talk anymore and I doubt if we ever will again. Frankly, I have moved away from that negativity and do not want my own children touched by it.

So why did I tell you all that? I am just thinking through my fingers tonight and getting some of this out. How does it all tie together? Am I saying that my mother’s neglect and bi-polar like symptoms helped make me who I am. Yes, maybe but I do not want to give her that much credit. To say it is her fault…would mean this is something bad, or wrong or something that needs to be fixed. It isn’t. It’s love and strength and something so much more powerful than I have ever felt. And if it because of my childhood that draws me to M, so be it. What does it change? Not much, I know myself a little better which is always a good thing and you know me a little better too. I won’t go all Jerry Maguire on M  but he does complete a part of me that was left undeveloped and neglected. He fills in the pieces for me, he centers me and leaves my mind focused and quiet. Like M, my submission has been a gift to my life, and one I wouldn’t change.

bdsm · Life in general · spanking

Sharing vs Showing Off

Today in conversation with M we were discussing the story he had written for me yesterday and I made a remark something to the effect of… “why do you always want to share me?” I think he is surprised that I see what he asks me to do as sharing. He sees it as ‘showing me off’…I argued a bit more because I truly do not see the difference. Because I argued with him and because he truly wants me to see the difference he told me to explore it in a 300 word essay.

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Scenario One- Sharing

“Give it to me, that is my toy!”

“No, no, no, no, it is my toy!”

“Alright boys, settle down, it is nice to share your toys. Tommy when you are finished playing with it give Jason a turn.”

Scenario Two- Showing off

Na-na-na-na-boo-boo..lookie what I have..it’s all mine and you can’t play with it, na-na-na, here you can touch it, you can hold it for a second but now I want it back. Right now, it’s mine all mine! It’s my special toy and I don’t have to share my special toys.”

I think I see the difference.

As soon as I started to write it hit me what he has been trying to get me to understand all along. The difference between sharing and showing off is clear to me now. I am still trying to cross over that place in my head that still thinks that being shared or showed off is wrong. It isn’t as long as I am doing it for him. Along with my submission to him I gift him with my trust. That doesn’t mean I only submit to what turns me on or what is easy for me, it should always be what pleases him. He would get pleasure from another man admiring what is his. Like the boy in the scene if he is a really good friend he may even let him touch they toy but only because he knows it is always coming back to him, because he knows that even while the other boy is interacting with the toy it is still his toy and he gets to say how it is played with. That is showing off. He is proud of me, proud of the fact I am submissive to only him.

caning · M. · Story

Good girls get stories….

From M….


I want you to imagine we are leaving our room. You are wearing a short skirt, no panties. As is our ritual, you bend over for six strokes of the cane before we cross the threshold. I raise your skirt and lay down six hard strokes, harder than usual, hard enough to make you cry out, and loud. When I let you stand, you rub your bottom and your eyes quiz me, but my only response is to hold out my hand and show you a small egg. I make you bend over again and put it inside you, being rough with my fingers, flicking your clit carelessly.
We are at a dance club, and I send you out onto the dance floor. You have one instruction: find a man, tell him you have just been caned, and make him run his hands across your caned bottom, feeling the raised lines.

You are nervous, but excited, and as soon as you hit the dance floor I turn on the egg. You stop in your tracks, compose yourself and move out into the sway of people. Soon guys are sliding towards you and you are making yourself the center of attention. A young man, maybe 25, gets too close, his hands too eager and you rebuff him. An older man, 30 at least hovers and you move towards him, put your hands on his hips and draw him in. I turn off the egg. He seems surprised and even more so when you stretch up on tiptoes and shout into his ear. I can’t hear your words, but I know what you are saying and I watch his face with interest. His eyes change and he hesitates only a moment. His hands move down your sides to your hips, then dip lower and I can see him reach around and put his hands under your skirt, onto your bare bottom. I watch, my stomach tight, as his hands caress back and forth for ten seconds, and it may be my imagination but I think I see you pushing into his grip.
Suddenly, and to his dismay, you pull away, thanking him with your eyes before spinning around and heading straight for me. As your target stands motionless under the spinning lights, he watches as you throw your arms around me and kiss me deep, hard, and long.

bdsm · caning · Life in general · M. · spanking

Punishment Essay

Her punishment (which comes from a discussion/thought we had during an email exchange):

To post a blog entry of PRECISELY 500 words on what it would feel like and what issues would be raised if (when?) I told her to domme another girl.

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To domme another girl would be unnatural to me. Imagine Little Red Riding Hood planning to eat the wolf, plain unnatural. If I was asked to perform this act for M, I would do so without hesitancy. I am sure seeing me do this would give him some element of pleasure. I imagine the bulk of his pleasure would come from me submitting to his whim rather than me actually being dominant. And realistically isn’t that what this would be about? Pleasing M? It would be with that spirit and resolve I would charge into this if he ever asked me to. Would I like it? No. Would I receive any sexual gratification from it? Not at all. I am naturally submissive, the idea of being dominant is distasteful to me. Doing it for him, knowing he is watching me and that I am pleasing him in the process is however, not distasteful to me.

I wouldn’t like the idea that I was capable of hurting someone, even the idea that someone would be submissive enough towards me to allow me such liberties with their body makes me uncomfortable. The desire to strike another person is alien to me. The desire just isn’t there. Thinking this through as I write this essay is revealing to me just how much responsibility comes with being Dominant. So many fears that cross my mind as I consider being asked to cause physical pain to another person. Can I damage her? Is she OK? What are her reasons for seeking submission? Am I doing her more harm than good? All valid questions that linger in my mind as I contemplate being Dominant over someone else.

I have a new found appreciation for the emotions and responsibilities that M must carry with him in this sometimes difficult journey with me. It is a great deal of responsibility to provide discipline and guidance to another person. He takes his role quite seriously. He is the voice of reason that I tend to listen to more than any other in my life. He says that there is such strength in my submission to him, that some people may think being submissive is a sign of weakness. He has taught me it is the opposite. I agree 100% and I enjoy what happens on my end of the cane. To be asked to cross over even for a moment shatters some image in my head of who I am. I am truly only learning what it is like to be submissive. I mess up a lot. He has the patience to deal with me when I do, I don’t have that. He knows when to ignore my antics and when to address them, he knows and understands the emotions that seep through my blog and my emails to him. It is with the same patience he deals with my flaws that he celebrates my growing submission to him. I do not have that inside of me to give.

bdsm · caning · spanking

By my side…

She wanted him to touch her. Her body did everything it could to let him know she wanted him. He already knew what she wanted, what she needed. He decided to make her wait. Why? Maybe for no other reason than because he could. He had plans for the evening, plans that he did not want to hurry. He liked the look of need and desire on her face. He liked the fact it was directed at him, he liked the soft moans she made as if calling to him, begging for his touch. She lay on her side and he sat on the edge of the bed near the curve of her hip. He had already told her to remove all her clothing. There was nothing physical keeping him from touching her. Just his own fading will. He knew she needed to be touched. Instead he looked down at her, his eyes sweeping a hot trail across her skin. He liked how the restraints around her wrists pulled her arms up and out of the way. He had fastened the restraints around her wrists and secured her to the heavy wooden post of the bed with a small chain. He like the look that flashed across her face when he had told her to bring him the restraints and the chain. He knew that behind her scared expression she was remembering the last time he had restrained her. On each ankle he had attached leather cuffs but had not secured her to anything with them, not yet. This was new to her, he had never totally restrained her. He wondered how she would react. That would come later.

She felt his eyes on her. She loved that look, it was a look of possession, of ownership. It made her want him even more. She belonged to him and they both knew it. He ran a fingertip down the graceful curve of her neck and felt her shiver when he stopped right above her breasts. He told her she was beautiful. He told her that he wanted to hurt her, that he was going to hurt her. She closed her eyes, she already knew that. She wanted him to and she loved to hear him say it. He left her side for a moment and returned with small clamps that he placed on both nipples.”Tell me when they start to hurt, I need to know.” She wanted to tell him they already hurt but knew this topical pinch would not concern him. Other than a small sharp cry when he tugged them to make sure they were tight she remained silent. He watched her face for a few seconds as if trying to register how uncomfortable she was. Her breathing was faster. He decided to wait. He had some things to do.

What was he waiting for she wondered? The waiting was more painful to her than the clamps biting into her nipples. The pain was a hundred times worse when he wasn’t by her side. A million scenarios played in her head, what was he going to do to her? She liked swiftness with punishment and today he was taking his time. She waited another minute and called out to him that they were really hurting now. He heard her and acknowledged her by saying good but please tell him when they really start to hurt. He heard her sigh with frustration and he smiled to himself. She wasn’t in real pain yet. He waited a few minutes until he noticed her wriggling around more than she had been. He walked over to her and reached down taking the chain of the clamps in his hand. He pulled hard up on the chain and she cried out trying to lift herself off the bed to follow the pull of the chain. “Are they hurting more now?”

“Yes Sir” her voice was tight as if she was close to losing control. He knew they hurt, they were tight and he had them across the center of both nipples. When he pulled them again he watched the tears pool in her eyes. “Should I take them off?” he asked her resting the weight of the chain between two fingers.

“If you would like, Sir.” but her eyes asked him to please, please take them off. She knew it didn’t matter what she wanted.

“Good girl, nice answer.” he said watching her face as he pulled the chain once more. He liked how she breathed when he hurt her, how her body felt damp beneath the flushness of her skin.

“I don’t think I should.” He stood up and left her side again. This time he came back right away but stood behind her. She wanted to turn and look at him but couldn’t because of the way her arms were held over her head. He noticed her squirming. She felt his finger at the base of her spine. She felt him go lower and he ran his finger across her bare cheeks. She could tell he traced the angry lines of the cane. He liked how she jumped when he touched her. Her skin showed the cane marks so well. He could count the lines and did so to himself as he touched and pressed not so gently into each one. He told her to roll over onto her stomach. Once she did he had her pull her knees slightly up. It wasn’t easy because of her arms being tied yet she did and rested herself on her elbows. He told her he was going to put a plug in her bottom, that is was larger than the one she was used to and that it may hurt her. She didn’t speak but he felt her tense when he moved behind her. She hated this part, hated when he allowed himself such an intimate view of her. He spread her cheeks and he felt her almost pull away before catching herself. This was good for her, she always fought him doing this and he could feel her internal struggle. It excited him that she was able to remain strong in her submission to him. He asked her how her nipples felt, told her maybe this would be a distraction for her. She felt the cool wetness of lubricant on his finger as he touched her. He rubbed it around gently before sinking his finger into her. She gasped and then shuddered as she tried to relax into his touch. Experience had taught her it hurts less if she is relaxed. As he moved slowly in and out of her readying her for the plug he tried to be gentle. He did not want her to continue to associate this type of touch with pain. He asked her if she was ready for the plug.

“Yes Sir.”

“Are you sure…if you are… ask me for it.” She was quiet for a moment before asking him to put the plug inside of her. She felt it press inside her and even though he was slow she felt herself pull and stretch. For a moment she couldn’t breath, not only because of the pain but mostly because of the sensation that she was not quite used to. She felt violated, open and full. She also felt aroused. By the time the plug was fully inside her she was ready to beg him to take her. Of course she knew better than that. She kept her eyes closed trying to absorb all the sensations flooding her body. Her eyes were still closed when he told her to roll back over onto her side. He walked back around to stand in front of her and sat back down at her side. Again, she wanted him to touch her. He rolled her slightly onto her back and cupped her wetness beneath the palm of his hand. He pressed into her making small circles, as he did he tugged on the chain that held her nipple clamps together. She moaned and her eyes fluttered open and closed. He told her that he could bring her as much pleasure as pain. He wanted her to remember that. He also told her that he didn’t know which he liked the most. “Good thing I don’t have to choose.” he said with a hint of smugness that would have made her smile if her mind was not already overwhelmed with emotions. He told her that he was going to do something different. He asked her if she trusted him and she said that yes she did. “We shall see.” was his response. He placed a blindfold over her eyes and tied it tightly around the back of her head. She wasn’t expecting this. He lifted her head slightly and pressed the small wax ear plugs into her ears. As she realized what he was doing his question raced across her mind, yes she really did trust him but could she do this. She realized that he was taking away her senses…that he could even control that. She was scared, but tried to relax. The silence around her made her so much more aware of the pain and fullness in her bottom and the sharp bite across each of her nipples. She smelled leather beneath her nose and realized he was going to gag her. She opened her mouth to accept it and he pressed the ball against her lips. She felt him secure it.

He watched her closely for a few minutes as her body adjusted to the loss of her senses. He stayed by her side not wanting to risk her safety, knowing she could panic at anytime. Every few minutes he would touch her to let her know he was beside her. He wanted her in a full submissive state and as her body stilled he could tell she was drifting there. After a few more minutes he decided to play with her a bit more. He lit a candle and knew she couldn’t see or hear what he did. He stood above her and allowed the first hot splatter of wax to land on her shoulder. The next landed on the side of her breast. She jumped each time the wax landed on her skin and she softly cried out beneath the gag. Soon she was covered in shiny white dots and drips from his candle. Her breathing was shallow and weighted as she struggled with the contrasting feelings of limited and overflowing stimulation. He sat by her side once more.

She wanted him to touch her…but he decided to make her wait. He looked at his watch, it was still early.

M. · spanking

A memory

“I don’t think I can do this anymore Sir”

“You can, I know you can and you will do it. Now, open your legs.”

“But Sir-”

“Now.”

The last word was jagged and cold. He stood above her as she lay across the bed turned partially onto her side. He held the belt loosely in his hand. She was debating his next move as well as her own. She fought every urge in her body to not cup herself with her hands… to feel the heat between her legs… to offer some protection to that most vulnerable place. She knew he would finish what he started one way or the other. It had just hurt so badly every time he brought the strap down between her legs. With every decent she begged silently for it to be the last and it never was…they were quick snapping blows that left her without air… without the voice to beg him to stop.

Rolling onto her back she opened her legs for him. She clutched at the blanket beneath her and waited for the belt to fall. It didn’t.

Warily she watched him as he lay the belt to the side. She felt the bed give way slightly as he placed his knee between hers. His hands rested on her knees and he looked down at her and didn’t speak. His eyes were hot and knowing and she loved the feel of his hands on her skin. They felt cool and strong and she wanted to feel them slide down her thighs and into her body. He pressed her legs open so her knees were wide apart. He stood for a moment and looked at her, hands on her knees holding her legs open. Her instinct was to close them. She hated that he loved to look at her there. She closed her eyes but opened them wide when finally he touched her. Her back arched off the bed into his hand at his touch. He knowingly caressed her. He knew her body, how to touch her, how to make her cry out in pleasure and how to make her feel real pain. Her flesh was hot from the belt and so wet, so wonderfully ready for him.  He had hurt her and yet she was still wild beneath his hands. As he played with her he continued to watch her. Her skin was flushed…misted with a sweet dampness that should have cooled her. Her eyes were dark and wide, her lips damp and slightly open. His fingers knew her so well…. She almost sobbed with frustration when he stopped touching her..instead bringing his fingers to her lips. She opened her mouth drawing first one and then the second inside drinking herself off of his hand.

When he stood back up off the bed he was once again holding the belt, with a hand on her knee he cruelly brought the belt down between her legs once again.