bdsm · belt · bondage · breast torture · D/s · restraints · Richard · S/M · spanking · sub space

The Office

Tonight Richard went out to dinner with some friends.  I imagine that to most people it looked like a table of stuffy….possibly snobby corporate lawyerish people. I hate tables like that in restaurants..they are the ones that look irritated that anyone was seated near them.  As Richard was getting ready for his ‘date’ we were texting back and forth…as he wanted to know my plans for the evening (which included dinner with Liam (another post)).

I texted him that I wonder what his friends would think if they knew about the man behind the Richard they see everyday. I imagine they see this soft spoken..although extremely self assured and confident man. I can guarantee they don’t see the dark in his eyes that I do…or see his hands the way that I see them….capable of inflicting pain and pleasure at his whim.

I asked him via text could they ever imagine that he has a little pet that he likes to hurt….that he has a much younger submissive that would do anything he asked. I realized how little we know about the people we work and go to school with. The thought made me smile and I imagine him sitting there with some of those stuffy corporate fake people and me walking in. Maybe I would be with a date..if I was allowed to date right now…or maybe I would just be alone. I’d sit across the restaurant from him, maybe at the bar and try to see him the way everyone else sees him knowing that would be impossible.

I like blending my lawyer Richard with my sadistic owner that can do all the amazing cruel things to me. I had a lunch date with a wonderfully beautiful friend of mine that has only recently and tentatively stepped back into my life and on the way back I received a call from Richard requesting that I come to his office. My lunch ran over and Richard expects me to be prompt so the message was a bit curt.

His building was empty. The Friday on a Holiday weekend keeps most people away..Richard was there and he was waiting for me. As I dressed that morning he told me to wear something that he would allow him easy access. Inwardly I chuckled because my clothing never posed much of a hindrance to him before. When I walked in I expected him to be annoyed or irritated at least but he wasn’t at all. He was pleased to see me…he told me to kneel by his leg while he finished up reading a document that he needed to finish. He knows that I need to kneel every once and awhile. It isn’t a huge part of what we share but there are times where there is no place I would rather be than at his feet…today was one of those days. I find it natural and comforting and it gives a bit of peace to my center core that is so often off in a thousand different directions.  That is how I felt kneeling there at his feet. I rested my head against his thigh knowing that if I did his hand would wander down and stroke my hair and my face. I find myself melting into that type of touch. I feel nurtured and loved and so safe..like my world is right and for those few moments nothing spins. My head and the thoughts that misfire so often and so randomly in my head cease. I like moments like that. I breath in his scent and lose my eyes knowing that nothing matters at that second besides the fact that I am there with him and that I am Owned and loved and cared for my Richard. It is a heady sensation that curls around me ever so slowly like the soft tug of sub space beckoning me to come visit…to come play. I can get quite lost in the simple act of being at his feet.

He knows this. It was a soft floaty sub that he eventually pulled up to her knees. He touched my face and whispered to me that he loved me so much. That he too felt the magic when I submit myself so freely and completly to him. I think we both realize what a gift we are to each other. He cupped his hand on the back of my head and tilted my head back. He rested his other hand on my throat and it felt heavy and I felt every breath raise his hand….up and down.

He told me to stand up and remove my clothes. I did. Slowly. He lounged in his huge office chair the smell of leather all around us as I undressed for him. The light had dimmed slightly as the sky that day was gray..and his room had the look of an early evening. It was soft and comfortable and I felt sensuous and desirable as I took my clothes off for him. Gone is the self consciousness I used to feel when he asked me to undress. He loves my body..the smallness of it that I used to be paranoid about. I let my clothes fall to the floor and tried to meet his gaze as much as possible attempting sometimes successfully to not be so shy.

Once I was naked he called me over to him and pulled me down on his lap. He talked to me for a few minutes…simple questions I know he sometimes uses to gauge how I am feeling in a new situation. I was feeling still a bit floaty and wasn’t quite sure what I needed. I leaned into him and nipped at his shoulder…whimpering just a little to show him, to tell him that I needed something.

His hand went back into my cropped hair and pulled my head tightly back so my neck was exposed. He bit at my neck and my shoulder before biting both my nipples. Suddenly I found my bare bottom on his desk in front of him.

“Show yourself to me. ” He said. “Spread your cunt lips and show me what belongs to me.”

My cunt lips were slick when I touched myself…I was wet for him just like he knew I would be, just like I always am.  For him. 🙂

“Keep yourself open, just like that. What a good little girl you are..this used to be so hard for you. Good girl.”

He slid a finger deep inside my cunt and turned it right to that spot..that little hidden spot way, way up inside me that makes me drip with need and shake with intense orgasm after orgasm. He played that spot relentlessly….torturing my nipples with his teeth at the same time. I felt slick under my bottom from my juices. I propped my feet up on the arms of his chair and he stayed between my knees. He told me to cum just as I opened my mouth to ask him if I could. I shuddered against his finger once..and then once more before he pulled out of me and pulled me back down onto the floor. This time I was kneeling between his open legs.

“Take my cock out slut…do it now..suck it for me like you know I like it. Like I showed you.” I was eager to have him in my mouth and my fingers shook as I undid his thick belt and opened his pants. I love his smell…his taste and the feel of him in my mouth. He let me suck him for a few minutes before pushing me away and telling me to stand up.

He turned me around and bent me roughly over his desk…he growled into my shoulder for me to arch my back…to open my legs. A second later he was inside me…hard pounding strokes that pressed me deeper and deeper into his desk. I was in subbie heaven as each stroke went deeper and was harder and I wanted it that way. I told him before that I like it just when it starts to hurt a little…that he is so deep inside me something shifts and almost aches. I feel myself stretch to take him and I hope it never ends. He slipped it out long enough to rub it against my asshole..threatening to fuck me there…saying I hadn’t had that in a while. I whimpered not wanting that..knowing we didn’t have lube..knowing that simple fact wouldn’t stop him if he wanted to fuck my ass…yet hoping he would think twice. He must have because he was pressing again into my cunt telling me how tight I was and how good I feel on his cock.

I always imagined being taken from behind across his desk. He put his hand in my hair and pulled my head up telling me to look at his door. “What is that pet…what do you see there on the back of my door?” I squirmed against him…he moaned at my movement against his cock but didn’t release his grasp in my hair. “What is it slut?”

“A hook Sir..there is a hook on the back of your door.”

“Yes.. my pet…there is. What do you think I am going to do with that?” I almost said…hang up your coat but decided not to press my luck. I had already been an hour late in meeting him. It turned out to be a rhetorical question anyway as he was already pulling out of me and leading me towards the hook.

Like I said before I always wonder how much we really know about the people we work with. That innocent little stainless steel hook most likely ignored by everyone who walks in and out of my Owner’s office all day…served quite another purpose that afternoon.  🙂

S/M

Thursday thoughts and seeking Toy….

A couple things going on in my head tonight.

One..what happened to Toy? She is just gone….is anyone else worried? Did I miss something?

Secondly…I am really figuring things out. I thought that with Richard being less available to me right now I would need or want less of his structure and his guidance. I am realizing the lost feeling has nothing to do with not having enough of his time…though I have seen him three out of the last four days. I am not sure what I was worried about…lol. But it isn’t about time…or lack of.

I had made the decision to pull away somewhat, to lean on him less, to depend on him less. I realized that he has contributed to my dependency of him…in a way he has made me what I am right now. I feel like he hasn’t quite considered that having him less available to me all of sudden is going to have a huge impact on my life. A negative impact that is more than me feeling insecure because I do not have his undivided attention..or jealously..it is feeling not as stable. Not as safe..not as cherished and protected…almost like all the good feeling parts of my submission are somehow being compromised.

Daily contact….instructions…structure..bedtime and rules. I feel like I have all this and he isn’t going to be here to enforce it totally. I am not sure how I feel about that except the idea of maintaining his expectations of me on my own seems…well, daunting. I should point out that I never obeyed him because I feared his punishment..he has never been about punishment. Well, ok…a time or two he reacted to my action with disapproval but mostly I obey him because I crumble beneath his displeasure. I asked him if I needed more structure could he provide it to me. He said yes…but what does that mean? What do I need…today I felt an overriding urge to kneel in front of him. To feel the strong pressure of his hand on my head or on my shoulder. I feel stronger somehow for allowing myself to be so submissive with him. I needed it.

I have been told I am not dating right now. I am in agreement with that. I don’t have the time or energy for another man in my life right now. Liam is still sniffing around and he and Richard have been working through their differences. I am not sure what it is exactly that I need from Richard right now to make me feel more Owned….something is missing. I told him that I naturally obey my bedtime now…that made him smile. I am not sure what sort of structure I am requiring.

Have you ever felt a little lost…like you need reigned in somehow but now sure how or why? I think that is where I am right now.

So in some ways I am sounding a little more mixed up but things are starting to feel better in my mind. I am figuring out less isn’t always more.

Now if I can just find out if Toy is alright…..

bdsm · belt · bondage · control · D/s · Richard · S/M · scary Richard · spanking

Lessons in submission

Sometimes it is easy being submissive.

Somedays it is even easy being Richard’s submissive. 😉

There really are two sides to it all. There is the floaty feeling of being nurtured and cared for, cherished and protected. That is the feeling that lingers for so long afterwards. It is the softer side of submission. I like this. I like knowing that I am giving Richard something noone else ever has..that noone else ever could. I thrive in his admiration of me, his love for me…his awe of what I can so unabashedly offer him. The softer side often comes after the pain, almost like the reward for taking it. Though for a masochist like me most of the time the pain is reward enough.

On the other hand there are times that submission means just taking pain. Just taking it, not questioning the whys of it all..just remembering my self designed role and why I am in his life. It is not questioning from where the pain comes from or what is the driving force behind it… it is allowing submission to take me someplace else. Where I am less of a sweet toy or a cherished pet and become more of a receptacle or an outlet for his own pain. It is hard to explain that. There have been times in my relationship with Richard where he just needed me to take pain for him. In many ways it seems as if he has had years of frustration inside of him. Sure he had the same submissive for 12 years before me but in my mind I have a theory that because he always describes his wife as so emotionally manipulative he must have a lot of frustration. Ex. pretends to be hurt or sick..or lost. Strange stuff like that- he doesn’t criticize her as much as tells me stories.

It is too simple to say he just needed to hurt me. The other afternoon was like that…it was the type of afternoon that prompted him whispering to me that he didn’t want a broken toy as I lay there trembling in his arms. It’s a paradox that I have talked about before. Sometimes he seems content to hold me and just kiss me…deep intimate kisses. 

Today I felt something off- We were talking. He was holding me. I had about decided that he wasn’t planning on doing much besides that. I took his quiet demeanor for just being somewhat relaxed. He had just returned to the country and some personal business of his had been completed. In some ways his life had just been simplified…in others things were just just started to turn.

My head was on his chest and his hand was stroking my back. I was still fully clothed as he was- see why I thought my owner was feeling somewhat relaxed? “I need you to get up and take off your skirt- only your skirt. Walk over there and get the paddle. Come back and lay exactly where you are right now.”

His orders were crisp and direct and I obeyed them immediately. I removed my skirt down to a pale pair of yellow panties…retrieved the paddle and walked back to the bed. I curled back up against his side and rested my head back on his chest. His heartbeat was faster, the only evidence of his interest in what he was doing. He seemed a little detached to me, and I am not accustomed to that from him. His dark eyes weren’t smiling…his expression was not soft or loving or any of the other little anchors I need as I enter in this sometimes dark ocean of being owned by a man as complex as Richard.

He started by rubbing the paddle against my panty clad bottom. This wasn’t just any paddle. It is large, round and thin, the kind children play with at the beach bouncing a ball back and forth. It is a stinging piece of wood that I regret introducing into our toy box. He started to hit me with the paddle…usually I would say spank me with the paddle, but this felt different somehow. He was hitting me hard with a stinging series of blows on each cheek.

I buried my head against his chest and breathed through the pain of the paddle. It was a pain that would have been impossible to take if I had been in any other position. Laying across his chest somehow helped. He was all around me. The beating of his heart blended with the smack of the paddle in my ears…his familiar scent in my nose and a bit of his shirt in my mouth as I tried to bite down on something to not cry out too much.

There was a feeling in the air around us. Like he was just pouring something into me and in my head I was awash in confusion and pain. I went back and forth. There were seconds of feeling resentful…like he was taking something out on me. Have you ever felt like that…like you just couldn’t touch what it was that made something a bitt off but you could feel it nonetheless?  It felt different. And knowing his life right now I knew what it was…I didn’t like that. Yet I know better than to question what it is I give to him on any given day. The fact I am privy to his emotions and sorrows, his joys and dreams is nothing less than a privilege for me and one that I know he can take away at anytime. He has let me inside him so I know, I can sense where he is when he hurts me.

Today he was lost somewhere inside himself and he used me to feel better. I could feel the pain of the paddle lessen his own. It is something that it so hard to capture, so impossible difficult and almost pointless to try and write about. I felt honored. 

As a submissive, as Richard’s submissive, what right do I have to question from where the pain he gives me comes from? What gives me the right to think that our interaction always has to revolve around mutual pleasure? In fact, haven’t I been lucky that for the most part he has given me so much pleasure, so much of the good side of submission? Not that he hasn’t consistently provided me with pain… we all know he has….but it was always with love, with the end goal being mutual satisfaction.

Like I said, this day was different. As the paddle continued to land on my bottom I whimpered into his chest…I whispered that it was enough, that I didn’t think I could continue. He tightened his grip on my and slipped my panties down to my knees. I threw my hands behind me and in the same detached voice he told me to move them…unless I wanted them hurt I needed to move them. I moved them of course…pulling them beneath me hoping I didn’t feel the need to cover myself. He rubbed his hands across my bottom telling me it was hot…and red and that he wasn’t finished with me yet. He told me to ask for more. I asked for more and clutched at him….tensing knowing it was going to be hard. It was. I imagined blisters and broken skin…forgetting the paddle rarely does that. At one point I begged him to please put the paddle away, to use the strap or the cane…just no more of the paddle. “Three more on each cheek” he said “They are going to be hard and fast. Ask me for them.”I took a deep breath swallowing a cry…..not wanting to beg him to stop when I knew what I was taking was what he needed from me on that day. Just like on some days when he sees me he needs to fuck me….or he needs me to suck his cock….today he needed to hurt me, really hurt me and I didn’t like how I was caught up in my head on the reason behind his mood. The reason shouldn’t matter to me. Meeting his needs…even his darker needs should be what matters. I asked him for more….not recognizing my voice.The final strokes were rocking. They bit into me like the cane never could. The paddle has such coverage. It is a deep and stinging pain all at once.

I thought that would be enough as I lay trembling beside him. Somehow he got up. Somehow he came back with the strap and he was bringing it down across my red bottom before I fully realized he was gone. I felt like he held nothing back, like he was intent on breaking something…if not me then something in himself. As he beat me his hand stroked my dripping cunt….he said I was soaking his pants and he told me to cum against his finger. I was already cumming…needing to release some of the energy that he had poured into me. The strap continued and he pressed into my back hard getting me into the perfect arched back position that he loves. I struggled, my knees trembled, I wanted to collapse but did not.

Finally…finally he dropped the strap. He laid his head on my back….and just breathed. He breathed. His face felt hot…damp against my skin and I stilled. We were like that for what seemed like a long,long  time…he at last pulled me close to him whispering a million things into my hair that I couldn’t hear…that I couldn’t understand. He had what looked like tears on his face and his eyes held an expression that I had really ever seen before. He kissed me on the lips. He put his forehead against my forehead and told me he loved me. “I love you, it’s more than loving you, it’s bigger than love.” he whispered.   We were both recovering and I am not sure who needed it most. His fingers again went down between my legs…pulling a hard orgasm out of me. “Please…” I whispered. “Please what pixie?” he asked. 

I didn’t know what I wanted. He said not to worry.. That I just needed to know he would take from me what he needed. That was the joy in being submissive…that I didn’t need to worry about what he needed or that I would somehow leave him unsatisfied…that he would take what he needed.

As if I hadn’t just learned that lesson.

caning · love · Richard · Seasonal Affective Disorder

hands

Sometimes a girl just needs pain. I am that girl today. I crave the crack of the cane…the bite of the belt, the tightening of hands around my neck, his teeth grazing my skin…I long for one of those deep, hard orgasms that take days to recover from. Do I crave it because it confirms what I am to Richard? Is it a reminder of my role in his life…that he will still need me now that his life is changing?

I think because emotionally I am bereft. I am empty in places where I once overflowed as I sit here and imagine it all unfolding.. A temporary setback..yes. But a setback nonetheless. Or possibly all a symptom of my seasonal depression.

Regardless….pain is good for setbacks like that.

Richard is home. He is but miles down the interstate from me yet he is so very, very far away. I appreciate all the guidance that I have received from my wonderful readers over the past week or so. Your words have rested on my heart and made me see things in different ways…better ways. I am a better person for having this blog and for sharing my thoughts with you. I received some especially wonderful advice from a cherished friend. She told me that sometimes a person can look too hard for answers…her advice was a simple ‘sit on your hands’. Meaning don’t make any decisions when emotionally I am disconnected and filled with angst. The answers will come on their own she told me. Because I trust her so much and because her words touched me deeply I am going to do my best to follow her advice.

Following your heart…listening to your emotions is somewhat overrated I think. Don’t you? I do not trust myself today..right now to not regret something the rest of my life. That could go either way…a regret that I allowed myself to be hurt by collecting the small pieces of Richard that I can have now…or devastated that I lost him a second before I had to.

Right now if I followed my emotions whatever choice I make is sorrow filled. I like the idea of not trying to decide if it is now time to ask Richard to release me. Besides the fact that losing him is an unbearable thought I know there is too much emotion and drama in my life to face it without his steadying hand. I need him. He has taken me too far and built me up too high to allow me to crumble now. I trust him to know what is best for me. I know that if feels like he is not providing me enough structure or support or attention he will have the wisdom to let me go. He must, I trust him with that decision. He gave it back to me in regards to Liam but now it is back in his strong capable hands. Didn’t I hand that responsibility to him the day I asked him if he would be my Dominant. Haven’t I trusted him with my body, my pain, my heart since that day? So why now…when we are facing our first real challenge do I assume the worst? Why do I assume he will forget me….not need me, not love me anymore? Why do I feel like I have the right to decide right now before anything has happened or not happened if what we have will be a ‘ghost of itself’. I owe him more trust than that. I am not asking Richard to let me go. In fact I am going to do my very best to be strong for him, to continue to meet his needs and think less of my own.

Plus…and what about his needs? Can I selfishly turn him away because I am not the center of his world all of a sudden, that real life has changed our roles somewhat? Isn’t that selfish of me? Our time is all of a sudden limited. That has to be OK. Somewhere in myself I will make that alright. I am not sure what will become of us. Or me. But I trust him to make this all alright somehow one way or the other.

And in the meantime I will be here…sitting on my hands.

S/M

The Devil

On the way home tonight I cried. Men don’t cry – we all know that – so I
tried really hard not to. Like I am trying right now.

A cloud is settling over me, over us. We can’t seem to escape it, we
can’t seem to ignore it. Tonight when I laid down on pixie’s bed, we
began to talk. Whispering in her already small voice made her seem even
smaller – she said she wasn’t being pessimistic, as I had accused her of.
It was, she said, that she finally saw reality, that before she was seeing
hopes, dreams, wishes…. and that she now saw the time coming when I
could not give her enough time. She said she wished she didn’t love me,
wished that she had the strength to put space between us. I asked her if
I needed to let her go – as if…. I don’t think she realized how close
that was to a rhetorical question – I don’t think I have the strength to
send her away.

Pixie and I have said for months now that we wanted no regrets. Less than
2 months ago she said “I am at the point where it doesn’t matter to me if
Richard and I last another week or another year. I know that whatever pain
I feel at the end is nothing, nothing compared to the joy he has brought
to my life.” You can find this and many similar statements from both of
us in this blog. It is much easier to say these things, to believe them,
when the time to pay seems remote. When it suddenly rears up like an
iceberg, well… it is harder. Wishing she didn’t love me sounds like a
regret, but I know what it means. It means I can see what might be the
end, or at least I can start to see what it is going to feel like, and I
am not ready, I cannot bear it.

My car was driving itself home, past the exit where the apartment is, past
the exit where pixie’s office is, past the exit where we meet for lunch.
It can almost make it home without my help. The only place it needs
guidance is at the fork – the left fork back to my office, the right back
to my house. The car doesn’t know that at 1:30 a.m. I am not going to the
office, just as it does not know that at 1:30 p.m. I am not going home.
So I made it home with tears in my eyes.

Can you believe that pixie and I met on May 23rd? Less than 7 months ago.
For about the last 5 years, when I have gotten reflective, I have thought
to myself that I have had a very good life. I was born lucky, by which I
mean born to parents who cared enough to push me, born with enough brains
and good looks to travel well in life, born with enough ambition to
succeed. I realized that if the plane went down on a business trip I
would die knowing I had lived a full and wonderful life – more than anyone
deserved, certainly more than I could have hoped for. Not that I was
ready to give it up – don’t get me wrong. I have lots to live for. But I
knew that if my time came up, I had gotten my money’s worth. And yet,
when I had those thoughts, I had no idea, no idea at all, that I could be
as happy as I have been for the last 7 months. I had no idea that someone
like pixie even existed, and no hope that if she did, she would find me
and actually fall in love with me. I now know that if the plane HAD gone
down 7 months ago, I would have been cheated. It is clear to me that NOW
if the plane goes down, I will know I have had the best life possible. I
have had something more wonderful than I knew existed, and I have had it
for 7 months, seeming like years. Neither pixie nor I can really believe
what we have found in each other in such a short period. But I am not
ready, cannot imagine yet, life without pixie in it on a day-to-day basis.

Who knew that there was a person out there that would not only love me,
but devote herself completely to my happiness and well-being, lust after
me, give herself to me so completely, love every single thing I have done
to her, asked for more, offer up her submission to my Dominance with such
complete abandon? Who could have known what I had missed?

And yet, there it is. It is like we made a bargain with the devil, give
us this time, give us this pleasure, give us this love… and now he is
back asking for the price. We can hear him coming down the hall. His
footsteps are relentless. And we don’t want to pay.

There is something perverse in my nature, that I told pixie I don’t fully
understand. I have expressed a willingness to let pixie go because I see
that it would be best for her. It is not the first time in my life I have
let someone go without regard to my own wants. I once let someone go
knowing that it was best for everyone but me. Better for my family, her
family, all our friends, everyone. I thought it was better for me, but in
retrospect I KNOW it was best for everyone else; I will never be sure it
was best for me. I cannot be sure about that and have strong supspicions
it was not best for me. And today, I believe that there are a lot of
people that will be better off if I let pixie go. I am not one of them.
Why do I feel compelled to do what seems right, honorable, my duty, when I
know it will devastate ME. I wish I knew….

Pixie does not understand, I am sure, why I think that it might be better
for her. We have talked about the age difference between us. I can tell
you that pixie is of legal age, and that I am not yet in a wheel chair.
When we are out in public, people look at us and wonder. In restaurants,
every table will look us over, trying to figure out what is going on. It
usually becomes obvious to them – somehow it shows (which is why I will
never meet pixie’s parents, lol) – and the women look annoyed and the men
look envious. We have stopped worrying about what other people think.
But pixie can look back over her life and ahead maybe ten years. I can
look back over a span that exceeds that, and can see on to my parents – my
perspective is a complete lifetime, pixie’s half a lifetime. I would find
it hard to saddle pixie with me, thinking that there must be someone out
there who can share a whole lifetime with her, not a fraction of one. We
don’t always see eye to eye on this – but I think my perspective is more
accurate, more informed. And yet, there are moments when I too dream
about what might yet be….

I don’t yet know how we will evolve to the next stage, or when, or what it
will look like. We talked tonight about the alternatives: keep it going
as long as possible, until it slowly dies, or end it fast on a high note,
going out at the top of our game, Barry Sanders style. I don’t know. We
don’t know. I am going away for 5 days, and when I return my life will be
different. It is just before Christmas. It is coming up on the shortest
day of the year, and pixie struggles with SAD. It promises to be a hard
time, getting to January. And can you understand how pissed off I am at
Liam for pulling that stunt when he did? I hate the holidays – and there
is nothing worse than New Year’s in a normal year. During the last few
days when pixie and I have been working through the Liam problem, my
co-workers have accused my of being grumpy, and asking why? Like I could
explain. If that shows, how am I going to explain that I really don’t
give a f&*% about Christmas, and that I’d rather keep the Old Year than
face a New Year. I don’t want my life to be different, i.e. like it was
before I met pixie and we began our adventure. I don’t want to go back to
what I had. I don’t want to give up what I HAVE. I don’t want to pay the
devil the price he will be asking.

I have said to pixie that in reality, the Dom is only in charge between
the time the submissive says “dom me” and the time she changes her mind.
Each of us has had our moments when we can’t deal with it. First Liam,
laying down ultimatums, trying to find a way to control the situation. I
have had my moments where I have said if this disrespect continues, and he
keeps trying to undermine our relationship, I will have to do something.
And now pixie is struggling with how we can go on, as my life returns to
something closer to what it was before we met.

But what is that? I don’t know if I can give her all the time and
attention she needs, but I want to try. My live has been so immeasurably
better with her in it, I cannot face the possibility of the future without
her. I am rambling. I am tired. I am worried about my pet, and her
worries about the future. I am afraid of what our relationship might
become – a ghost of itself. I am worried that I don’t know what it will
become- whether I will drop out of her life completely or try to remain
her adivisor, confidant, friend, when I am no longer her Dom. I don’t
know what the Devil has in store for us, as he demands his price.

I am not sleeping so well these days…..


daddy/little girl · punishment · role playing · spanking

Daddy (pt 1)

he walked up behind her. she could feel the heat of his body against her own as he whispered a single word into the charged air near her ear. “cunt”

“you are my cunt, you know that right?”

“yes Sir” she whispered back. not turning around, not looking at him. not yet. his hands rested on her shoulders and then slipped around beneath the modest neckline of her dress. her breath was coming faster than before and even faster still as his hard fingers found and then savagely pinched both of her nipples. he rubbed them between his fingers pulling them as he did causing her to softly cry out. she took a small step back hoping her body would make contact with his. she felt the need to show him how she desired him. he backed away.

“you are such a slut today. i bet your little cunt is dripping already and i haven’t even touched you. should i check? turn around and show daddy if your cunt is wet.”

Mmmm..he called himself daddy. as hard on her as he would likely be when he used that word there was always an overall feeling of tenderness behind the encounter. she loved the naughtiness of the times when they played like this…she was shocked at how the dampness surged between her legs and how her cunt clenched….wanting…needing to be his little girl. sometimes.

she turned around and looked up at him suddenly feeling very small and very young. she lifted her small dress up to her waist and slid her panties to the side so she could show daddy how her cunt glistened with the evidence of their shared need.

“good girl” he smiled down at her benevolently but did not tell her to drop her skirt. “is daddy’s girl feeling all grown up today? is that why your little cunt is wet? answer me, answer daddy sweetheart, is that why your cunt is wet?”

“yes Daddy.” her voice was soft, almost a whisper but he heard her and knew she was embarrassed by their play. her hesitancy excited him and he decided to take it further.

“Daddy is going to touch your cunt now. hold your skirt up for me..that’s it, keep your little panties out of the way. actually..let’s get these out of the way. pull them down for daddy. good girl, that’s right leave them right there above your knees.”

again he took a step back and looked at her. she was humiliated and he soaked it in. he loved it and he knew she did too. “bad girl…look at you. standing here in the kitchen with your panties down around your knees holding your skirt up for your daddy. your cunt is so wet, as wet as i have ever known it to be. you know what that means? no..you don’t? it means you are daddy’s little slut, and such a bad girl. and do you know what happens to bad girls in this house? tell daddy what happens to bad little sluts who let their cunt juice drip down their legs as they hold up their little skirts for their daddy.”

“they get in trouble, they are punished.” her voice had changed, she sounded younger, almost frightened. the idea of him punishing her was painfully erotic, starkly sexual yet she knew he would be hard on her. little girl or not. she recognized the look in his eyes, the one that needed to hurt her.

“yes, they are punished. would daddy punish you?”

“yes Daddy.”

“of course i would..don’t ever doubt that. now, go upstairs to your room and kneel on the chair. wait for daddy there.” he patted her on her cunt first right before she dropped her skirt and hurried out of the room and up the stairs. he thought about making her come back and walk knowing the reprimand would humiliate her further but let it go…instead he enjoyed watching her struggle with keeping her pink panties from sliding the rest of the way down.

he left her kneeling on the chair for about five minutes. he knew the hard wood of the chair caused her knees to ache. he stood in her doorway for a minute before entering her room.

“lift your skirt.” she obeyed him right away and he was pleased her panties were still down.

“are you daddy’s good girl now?” he patted her bottom and she blanched at his condescending tone confused by the way her nipples grew even harder even as her face flamed in embarrassment.

“yes daddy.”

“yes daddy what?” he liked making her talk to him when he knew she was feeling this shy….it was humiliating to her.

“yes daddy, i am a good girl now”

“well…let’s see. stand up, daddy wants to undress you.” she stood up relieving the ache in her knees and she let her daddy pull her dress up over her head.

“my little girl is wearing a bra..look at that.” he smiled down at her and she looked away horrified that he would humiliate her so. “take it off…show daddy your little breasts.” her fingers shook as she removed the small piece of soft cotton and let it fall to the floor.

“i think they are growing baby, don’t you?” he pinched at them hard..twirling them between his fingers. “do you let your boyfriends play with your nipples?”

“no daddy..of course not.”

“why not? tell daddy why you don’t let the boys slip their hands up your shirt to play with your hard little nipples. you are such a little slut you must have the boys sniffing all around you.”

“cause you say no daddy, you said they were yours.”

“Ahh…so i did. very good. and what about your cunt? do your boyfriends play with your cunt…do they slip their fingers inside this tight little pussy?” as he spoke his hand cupped her and he pressed a finger deep inside of her cunt. “that’s right slut…squirm on daddy’s finger, show me what a slut you are. is this what you do at school?”

“no daddy…just for you.”

“very good….good girl. but you know…daddy still has to punish you. it’s for your own good…

“yes Daddy…i know.”

he pulled her across her lap and began to spank her hard on her bare bottom. “daddy can feel your hot little cunt against his leg. i think daddy’s little slut likes her bottom spanked. do you?”

“no daddy..it hurts.”

“it hurts? then why are you so wet, so hot for your daddy? are you daddy’s painslut? i think you are…i think you like it when daddy has to punish you.”

he spanked her harder loving the bright redness of her small upturned bottom and the way she squirmed against him. “let’s see just how much you are enjoying this. open your legs for daddy, i am going to touch your little cunt and see if you really are the painslut i think you are.”

she tensed as his hand went between her legs and he felt his fingers stroke against the bare slippery lips of her cunt. “just what i expected from you..you are soaked..you even got daddy’s pants wet you little slut.” he pushed her off his lap and held his fingers to her mouth, the ones that were wet with her juices. “clean off my fingers…use your tongue and lick daddy’s fingers dry. pretend its daddy’s cock. in a minute you are going to show me what good girls do with their daddy.”

her small pink tongue darted out and tentatively began licking his fingers. she liked the taste of herself but hated kneeling in front of him…she felt so embarrassed and humiliated yet the arousal and need was undeniable.

“nice…suck on them now. good girl, you are learning so much from your daddy, aren’t you?”

she nodded at him drawing his finger deep into her mouth. looking up at him with wide adoring eyes…

bdsm · bondage · breath play · control · D/s · Liam · limits · over the knee · punishment · restraints · Richard · S/M · scary Richard · spanking

good girl……by Richard

pixie was damaged, and my job was to help her heal, help her get whole
again, reclaim the good feelings of being a submissive, being owned. We
were snuggled on the bed in the apartment, talking but not really. Just
stroking her hair, her face, curled into each other.

I knew I had to dominate her, and hurt her, to get her back on track, but
I also knew I had to move slowly. She wasn’t ready for serious pain. Her
submission felt tentative, cautious, fragile. I handled it with care.

It is remarkable to me how I relate to pixie. No matter how harshly I may
be treating her, no matter what terrible things I am saying to her, it is
always with love. Yet clearly there are times when I treat her more
gently, like a lover, and times when I treat her more roughly, as my cunt.
But there is always love behind it, and sometimes the dynamic shifts from
lover to cunt, and it can happen quickly or slowly, unpredictable. So
while I know there are times I am feeling very mellow, and treat her like
a gently bred desirable girl, I know that in her mind she is owned, and
she may have less realization of the differences than even I do – they so
blend together, and shift. But always with love….

In the past, I have often found that to be at my most demanding, most
Dominant, most sadistic self, I have had to step away emotionally from the
submissive, to create a little distance inside, to separate myself and
objectify the submissive.

 

So different with pixie…. For some reason I
am able to be more Dominant than I have ever been, more cruel, more
demanding, more sadistic, without ever creating space between us – only
drawing more closely into her, becoming as one with her in her pain,
absorbing the pleasure back out of her as I put the pain into her body.
Such an amazing thing – I don’t know why this works so well for us, and I
can’t explain it. I just know that she brings out the best of my
Dominance even as I get closer and closer to her emotionally, no space or
distance needed.

But tonight was not a night for my most sadistic self. Tonight she was my
little girl. My bad little girl. She needed a spanking.

I told her to get up from the bed and get across my knee. I began
spanking her through her jeans. She complained that it felt like a bad
girl spanking and that she hadn’t been bad. I told her that she was a
good girl for being a bad girl, and gave her several examples of
disobedience I had noticed. Nothing serious of course, just enough to
stop her from complaining that she hadn’t been bad. Stand up, I said, and
had her remove her jeans. Back down over my lap. Now the spanking
changed – it felt more like a good girl spanking. The spanks become
harder, and she felt them more without the protection of her jeans, but
after a few strokes, there was the pause as I massaged her beautiful ass
through her panties.

As we progressed, the panties came down to her knees, I had her remove her
sweater, I changed from a hand spanking to a paddle. I spent a lot of
time, a lot of time, taking care of my spot, that spot at the back of her
neck, that spot that Liam damaged. I touched her, stroked her, massaged
it, kissed it, loved it, brought it back to life, back to feeling under my
fingers. I made it mine again, and restored it to the magic place that it
was, the place where a soft touch brought immediate wetness to pixie’s
crotch.

I had pixie get on her knees between my legs, and unzip my pants. She
began to suck me, using just her lips and tongue, complaining of her sore
throat (yes, she has been sick so I allowed this excuse). I said “between
my feet is a piece of rope tied to the bed. Get it for me.” She handed
me the loose end of the rope. I looped it around and around her neck, and
left enough to go down her back and restrain her arms behind her back.
This is where we made the subtle shift from little girl to owned cunt. I
put my hand between her legs and put one finger on her clit. She was
dripping wet. I told her she could come anytime, but that I wanted her to
wait as long as she could. I was stroking her clit very gently, just
starting low and lightly dragging my finger up over her clit, so gently.
She likes it harder – it makes it easier for her to cum. But my plan was
to make her wait as long as she could. She lasted a few minutes and then
came SO hard, it was amazing. She just convulsed on my finger for a very
long time, and collapsed against me.

I think it was here that I stood up over her and had her lick my balls
until I was ready to cum. I told her to stick out her tongue, and I
deposited my cum onto her tongue. Then I rubbed my sticky cock all over
her face. Finally, I told her she could swallow my cum, that it would be
good for her sore throat. Of course, I made that up – I have no idea if
it was good or bad for her sore throat, but I love saying it and making
her swallow.

Then I forced her up from her knees so she was leaning over the bed. I
used the paddle on her again. At each stroke, she moved forward away from
the paddle, and in the process tightened up the rope until she was having
trouble breathing. I pushed her back onto her knees. Again I put my hand
between her legs and began pushing her to another orgasm. As her arms
tired and relaxed behind her, she tightened the rope around her neck. She
was slowly choking, she looked at me, she needed air, she forced out
“Richard, please….” I continued stroking her until she had another
amazing, huge orgasm. I quickly loosened the rope around her neck by
untying her hands to create slack. She gasped and collapsed onto my lap.
Later she said that if she had had a safeword she would have used it. She
also said that most people would have panicked and taken off the rope and
“ruined the whole thing.” 🙂

As I knelt on the floor in front of her, unwinding the rope from around
her neck, she rested her head on my legs, occassionally licking me,
touching me. Slowly she moved up from my lap to my chest, and finally to
my face and I kissed her. We got up on the bed and curled up together. I
knew that my submissive was back, not totally healed but on the road to
recovery. I had hurt her, I had used her, I had controlled her and her
orgasms, I had given her a taste of the dark side, even though we started
out as little girl.

As we kissed goodbye later that night to head to our separate homes, I
told her she had been a good girl that night. She had made so much
progress back, she had felt good about being submissive, being hurt, being
owned. She was such a good girl…..