A little Mark from the archives

April 10, 2023 pixiepieGalleryLeave a comment

“Arch your back” he whispered to me after placing me just how he wanted me against the wall. My forearms were flat against the rough surface and my legs were spread slightly. Not quite enough. “Wider.” He said. His hands and lips trailed down my neck and back leaving me shivering with need and anticipation. He can be startlingly tender and gentle and seems to know just when I need that. He can also be frightfully demanding and rough with me. It goes without saying that he seems to know just when I need that too.On this day he knew exactly what I needed. I had just returned from a trip for work and he met me at the airport. I was exhausted but still excited to see him.Once we were alone he sat on the foot of the bed and pulled me over so I was standing in front of him. His hands glided up and down my legs and traveled quickly beneath my skirt where he caressed my bottom through my panties, his fingers pressing and kneading into my skin. I like this part. It is calming to me as I get to see and feel his tenderness. It is an interesting combination, so gentle yet so deliberate, so intentional. In my field of work we often say it is the process not the product that matters. It is the same with Richard and the more I allow myself to open up to him the more I see it. The process is most interesting to him because he is already very much aware of the product or the outcome- that being unconditional obedience. Ms. Anna once tried to explain to me before I even met Richard, back when I was still trying to talk Mark out of making me meet him, that when Richard walks into a room you have no doubt he is very much in control. I saw that right away. It is an attitude, a demeanor that can’t be described without being witness to it.
Without straying too far from my point….not too long ago I received an email from someone who visited my blog. I had written about an especially arousing yet obviously painful and intense experience with Mark. The email asked how on earth I was able to tolerate such treatment from a man. I had to laugh because the word ‘tolerate’ never comes to mind now and it never entered my mind then either.
So where was I? Oh…..that’s right….his hands up my skirt with me trying to figure out what was next. (I think I am tolerating this quite well). Anyway…I had a feeling this session with him was going to be different. There was just something in the air I suppose. I should back up…… I’ll get back to being pressed against the wall in a second. Before that happened I told him that I felt like I should shower because I had been in the air all morning. He said that was fine but first he wanted to spank me. sigh So I ‘tolerated’ being pulled across his lap and then I ‘tolerated’ having his hand smooth down the back of my skirt so it was placed just right. He began to spank me over my skirt and after only a few seconds I was wriggling around. It hurt!For some reason you Doms think that a thin piece of cotton allows for a much harder spanking opportunity. After a few minutes he stopped and pulled me up. This is something new. It is this process that he seems to enjoy (again, I am tolerating this) where he will spank me in different stages of undress. First over my skirt and then up goes my skirt and he spanks me again across my panties, (love this…… btw). And then of course the panties have to eventually come down, but never the whole way down. They just sort of sit and decorate the backs of my thighs. There is something quite erotic about being across his knee and having my panties in this suspended animated state where they aren’t quite on and they aren’t quite off. It changes your state of mind, and I find that with every transition in regards to my clothing my state of mind shifts. I am learning that sub space has many levels and perhaps I begin to enter into this mystical place quite independently as I anticipate the experience. By the time all of my clothing is off my body I am quite warmed up and ready for whatever comes next. Usually.I remember today just felt different. I was exhausted and had a slight headache and I knew I would have less tolerance for any sort of pain than I typically would. I was worried that he would ask too much, that I wouldn’t be able to meet his expectations. I also knew he was kind enough to call the meeting off if I told him I wasn’t 100% and I really wanted to see him! So I didn’t say anything, looking back now I realize I should have –not that the day didn’t turn out extraordinary but if only for the reason that if I am not 100% I can’t give him 100% and that is what he expects.
So thoroughly spanked I was sent off to take my shower. The shower helped and I am sure the spanking induced endorphins flooding my blood stream had something to do with my improved mood.
After my shower I stepped back into the room with a towel on. He gave me that ‘drop the towel’ look. I hear they teach that in Dom school.Anyway…..so when I came back in the room he was waiting for me.He said, “Come here.” And that combination of words in that voice is on my top ten list of things I like to hear. I think I will have to post that list here one day!Obediently, I went to him and he led me to the wall where he told me to turn around and face it. This is where I started the post. I really needed to write about this because I feel like I have so many new experiences I am losing some things I needed to write about.So I am standing there against the wall still damp from my shower waiting for him to touch me, or cane me or do whatever he wanted to my body. I only had to wait a second before I felt the first slash of his cane. I knew it was coming. I saw him pick it up, I heard him swish it through the air, and I felt him nudge my already open legs apart with it.One after the other they came down on my skin and after just a half dozen or so I was as close to asking him to stop as he has ever had me. It was a hard caning with a heavy, thick cane. (as I sit here thinking of it I find that I am getting terribly aroused…I don’t get it, do I actually like pain or something…lol!).I remember trying to dig my fingernails into the wall. I was thinking at that point that it is much easier to take a caning when a) you are bent over something and b) you are lying down. Standing makes me feel more, especially when I am standing straight up and not even bent over at the waist. I feel everything when I take it that way; it is much, much harder. Am I the only one who feels that way, I wonder?Richard does a wonderful job of balancing the pain and the pleasure for me. He has made it a priority of his to learn my body, my responses, and my reactions so he can tell when I am on the verge of asking him to stop and when I am on the verge of orgasm. Of course I know him stopping before he is ready isn’t going to happen but he will slow down and talk me through what he is doing. He will also give me pleasure at the same time he offers pain…the hardest thing is trying to keep it clear in my mind where one starts and the other begins. After a while I realize the two are so closely mixed it doesn’t matter, both are intense and one supports the other. The pleasure is a distraction allowing my mind to be able to absorb the pain and then in turn change the pain into the best sort of pleasure. And that is what was happening at that moment. I guess he grew bored with caning my bottom because he changed to another cane, a lighter one, and began to cane me across my back…not too hard at first but gradually it grew and spread into something that was pretty hard for me to stay on top of. Again just when I was ready to beg him to stop he would touch me and stroke me until I was begging for something entirely different.He never allowed me to stray too far from the pain or the pleasure. I felt frustrated and not quite sure of what I needed. Only that I needed something to make it all better…or worse… (?). I remember turning my head to one side and closing my eyes. I allowed the pain to travel lower as I pulled it down into something I could handle…I made it into something good. With each stroke I tingled inside with the rush running through me. It was hot and intense and I welcomed the cane on my skin as much as I welcomed his hand and fingers pressing into me. I have often wondered if the human brain can become confused when there are so much contradicting sensations. Thoughts like this can pull me suddenly from the gentle grip of subspace and all too soon I felt the pain as it truly was……pain. I was barely holding on when he told me to turn around. He lifted my hands above my head and at this point I am pretty sure they were tied together. He told me he was going to cane the fronts of my thighs….and I have never, ever cried from being caned but for some reason just the thought of that brought tears right to the backs of my eyes. Though they never turned into official tears it stuck with me how close I came. I stood there and closed my eyes knowing how hard it was going to be, knowing that it was going to be incredibly painful, knowing that I would do it. Knowing that somewhere behind the tears, behind the plea to stop I wanted it. He knew I wanted it.He changed canes once again and I refused to watch him, I didn’t want to see what he was planning on using on this most sensitive past of my body. I knew it would be OK, I did trust him after all. So I stood there as he picked out a perfect cane to use on my thighs. The first stroke was hard, harder than I would have expected for him to deliver there. I swear the second one was even harder. I felt my skin swell into two even welts and I felt a damp flush cross over all of my skin. I was ready to stop. I had turned my head away from him not wanting to know if he was finished or if he was planning on a dozen more. It wouldn’t have made a difference anyway.My legs trembled beneath me and I hated I was showing weakness. I felt his hand circle my throat and he tilted my head up so I was looking at him. He squeezed slightly and asked me if I was alright. I closed my eyes and barely nodded my head Yes.‘Good girl.” He said easing the pressure. “Take one more for me.”Again I nodded knowing it didn’t matter, it wasn’t a question so much as a statement. The last stroke caused me to gasp aloud and clutch at him searching for a support that was already there. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against him, his hands exploring my body until all thoughts of unmanageable pain were gone.He literally held me up as he played with me…it was an amazing experience and things seem to be getting more and more intense the more we see each other. And the rest of the day was like that…intense and meaningful. It is nice to have the chance to learn so much about myself….this has all been so unexpected.
What a crazy journey.

bdsm · bondage · D/s · dating · dedication · M. · polyamory · restraints · Richard · S/M · spanking

dedication page

April 9, 2023April 9, 2023 pixiepieGallery1 Comment

My editor suggested I take a break writing and work on my dedication page. I had no idea it would be so emotionally draining. I know in my heart of hearts I’ve had more love stories than most. Some were breathtakingly and wonderfully brief. Some were ugly and toxic and brought out the worst in me. Some stand out.

My marriage was not a before and after relationship. I may have grown older but I left my marriage in most all ways the same I went into it. A little more jaded of course, less trusting and certainly more wary of men who appear too perfect but I’ve recovered and if anything I’m better, stronger and so much happier I ever was when confined to the bounds of matrimony.

I tried hard to narrow it down to two but I knew I had to include the first three men who popped into my head. So here it goes. This is what my dedication page would look like if I had to write it right now.

To Mark- you took the innocence I was eager to give you. You took a girl on the brink of womanhood and traveled with me through the trials of finding myself. Perhaps the quintessential coming of age story- knowing you the way I now I realize it not a coming of age story at all. You taught me I wasn’t the only one in the world who enjoyed pain- and you made me feel unashamed about the wiring of my brain. You taught me what submission could feel like. You also taught me about betrayal. You taught me about abandonment and you showed me how my life would have been if I followed your path and settled. You taught me about sadness and lies and duplicity. Knowing what I know about your life now I feel a great sadness for you because we had a path at one point and I was loved by you. I’m certain it crosses your mind sometimes if we had made different choices.

You did however give me the greatest gift I’ve ever been given.

You taught me about myself. You taught me I could be selfless. You taught me to be unashamed of my desires. I was safe in your hands and because of all of those things I dedicate this book to you. Most importantly Mark, you gave me Richard.

To Max. What an enigma you are. We are so much alike. We say that to each other a lot, don’t we? From the first day we met we both felt this pull to each other. It was confusing to me as I belonged to another. So did you. We tried so hard to live within the rules of society. The rules that we both are now free to scorn. Our lives threatened to stand in the way and we did our best to deny what we felt, what we wanted- what we needed. It had a life of its own as these things often do. I don’t think you wanted to love me. You do love me though and you’ve never been afraid to remind me of that when too much time goes by and I don’t see you. You have taught me patience. You have taught me to stand strong in my submission and know that wherever you go and wherever I go we somehow always come back together. There is an intangible string connecting us and you are always playing around somewhere in my head. I hear your voice and you are the man I fantasize about whenever I am with another. It’s always been you. You and I think alike. We know love isn’t something a person runs out of. Love isn’t a feeling one can use up on one person and be unable to love another. I’ve experienced this. You’ve made me a braver person. You are such a gentle lover even in your dominance of me. Your eyes turn three shades darker when you look at me. I jump head first into the green pools each and every time we are together. With you I try not to think about tomorrow. With you I have the freedom to love you and live an entirely different love story at the same time. We may never be a happily ever after. If there even is such a thing but my heart belongs to you. Like I once said in my blog- There is always Max. You are my constant, my North. My submission to you and your dominance of me showed me the real life side of this dynamic. We loved each other through marriages ending, children being born, horrible life changing tragedies and you never once disappeared. You’ve been my lover, my best friend, my hero for years. You are the only person who could understand the grief I felt when I lost Richard and instead of holding that against me you loved me through it. You’ve saved my life more than once. And not just when you pulled me from the sea and made me breath again. You are one of the strongest people I know. You will never know the strength you have given me through the years. When I was sick you were there. You are the only thing that brought me back to center. I survived that brief brush with death because you told me I could. You told me I had to get better. You said we had more adventures to share. And I did get better. And we have had some of the most amazing moments together. You are my travel partner and the only person who doesn’t get on my nerves after 48 hours. We’ve danced together under the sea watching in wonder at the creatures swimming around us. You challenge my heart. You break my heart and still I hand it to you every time you reach for it. You are the only person I lose my voice with when I want to say no. With you I have no pride and my heart is on my sleeve. Your steadfast presence in my life has taught me me to trust again. You took a wild child of a woman that Richard left behind and honed my submission into something that made me stronger in all other aspects of my life. You made submission so fulfilling, so much fun. You taught me how to burn, how to need and how to not get everything I wanted. You taught me to settle. You taught me if something feels like disrespect it usually is. If something feels one sided it usually is. And I’ve learned the emotionally selfish people in this world will be the ones alone as they walk through the second half of their lives- living in a state of freedom when you know freedom is nothing but a braid of the one you miss, loneliness and stubbornness.

With you Max I loved you with nothing more than hope. I loved you to the point of ruin as I fear I’ll never love another the way I love you. I remind myself what a privilege it was for you and to have met, to have loved. I think in the end we’d tell our stories differently. I’ve been through a brief few days of regret and self pity about what just transpired between us. I’ve tried to stop remembering but my heart shows me absolutely no pity. There was something here between us once. And if either of us choosing to take a step in the others direction I imagine it would be as it was. You made me feel like a novelty. As if I was nothing more than an escort scheduled to show up for you pleasure. Some of your comments I found heartbreaking and some of what you didn’t say ended up saying a whole lot. We may have a power exchange but that doesn’t bleed over full disclosure that’s good for the goose and gander. We can respect each others privacy as we should but isn’t fair to either of us to not know if you are in love with another. I don’t want to be the one you call when you need what we’ve found we can only give each other. I love you. But I don’t know you anymore. Not the way I did a few short years ago.

Maybe it’s as simple as wishing we lived a little in the same way. I love with everything. You love selfishly wearing a backpack with a rip cord.

To Richard- how do I take years of love and write it into a short dedication? You told me not to fall in love with you. I think we were both half in love with the other the first time we met. You owned me. You owned my heart. You owned my soul. My very world revolved around pleasing you. You were the true before and after in my life. My 9/11. I’ve never felt more loved, more cherished, more understood than I was when I was with you. You wore a crown for me. You were perfect. And the pedestal I had you on was sky high. We really had a big time, didn’t we? You made me feel as if there was nothing I couldn’t do. You pushed my body to the limits and then when I was limp and wounded you taught me I could take more. You taught me that I could control my body using my mind. I’ve always been a survivor but you took this and loved me so hard I never felt as if I were in survivor mode. I told you all my secrets. You told me secrets about yourself nobody else in the world knows. There were times it seemed we were one person. When it was hard to tell where I stopped and you began. Your breath was my breath and my fear was the elixir that pushed you to take me further. You taught me how it felt to crave pain and to thrive beneath the sting of your hand, to melt under your tender kisses. I became a woman with you. You changed me. When I was with you my heart was wild and settled at the same time. I was a gypsy along for the ride knowing wherever you led I would follow. Oh but you taught me about grief too. The pain I felt when it was finally “time” for us to part became a physical part of my life for the longest time. I woke up with it. I went to bed with it. My sadness was so big I felt as if part of me had died. You were so close to me. You were a million miles away. We did good for awhile, didn’t we? Being strangers. I feel more complete that you are in my life again. Losing you prepared me for my dads suicide. Losing him was as hard as losing you. You rolled through my mind like a slow train with no destination. It took weeks, months, years before I could finally get to the place you told me I’d get to one day. You once told me that I would hurt everyday until it felt as if the pain would never leave me and then one day I’ll realize I didn’t once think of you and those days would come more and more frequently. I never stopped thinking of you. There is a theory about pain or anxiety or any other feeling that experts say you just have to make a place for it. Give it a little time everyday then shake it off and go on about your day. You became a feeling to me. More than just a person. You were a mood. A warm blanket I’d allow to settle around my shoulders each and everyday and no matter where I was I’d anticipate that time. I craved moments of solitude so I could be with you in my mind. I had convinced myself that someplace somewhere you too would be thinking of me and somehow magically you would be able to feel my love. I’m forever grateful to you for everything you were to me. I am beyond thrilled that we aren’t strangers anymore. It means the world to me. I’ve never loved another the way I loved you. You taught me how to dance just for you. You made me yours in every way a person can belong to another. We were bigger than life, bigger than marriage even. Remember telling me that the few short years when I was yours were easily the happiest you had ever been. I never forgot that. I never forgot the taste of your tears that dreadful night when we were almost certain it was over. I can still see your face and how you looked at me that night. I saw the entire world inside your eyes. You made me into what you needed me to be while molding me into the kind of person I always wanted to be. When you were happy I was happy. Just as importantly Richard you gave me Max

I’m sure I’ll edit this. A dedication page shouldn’t be so long but the story I’m telling leans into me and pulls this out placing it on the first page. I love that I love when I’m writing from my heart again.

When I was in these relationships I had reminders, talisman you could say that reminded me I was theirs. There are so many collars but the one I’m sharing below is heavy yet delicate. Lots of color choices but I love the rose gold.

Take a look!

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0B1MN7KSK/ref=cm_sw_r_as_gl_api_gl_i_FS6ZTWHCHDR33KTBNC5Q?linkCode=ml1&tag=6211975-20.

bdsm · bondage · caning · D/s · restraints · S/M · spanking

interactive post. :)

July 15, 2008November 14, 2012 pixiepie6 Comments

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!!

bdsm · bondage · breast torture · caning · collar · D/s · knife play · needles · piercings · restraints · Richard · S/M · spanking · sub space

helping pixie remember…by Richard

June 23, 2008December 13, 2016 pixiepie2 Comments

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. She makes my heart ache.

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. She’s tiny so this is easy for her. 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 her beauty, in pain, cumming almost uncontrollably, totally at my mercy – a Dominant’s dream. Pixie has a way of looking innocent while at the same time feeding every deviant thought in my head.

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 nonsense – 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).

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 really 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 gently shift 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. I love her without bounds. 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.

bdsm · bondage · breast torture · control · D/s · needles · piercings · restraints · Richard

still

February 20, 2008July 12, 2011 pixiepie5 Comments

I needed something that only he could give me. The quiet part of my brain is sometimes easy to ignore. It whispered to me to make it stop…to ask to be untied even as the pounding part of my brain, the darker side whimpered a need that few people can understand. All around me was charged air. There was feeling of needing to be taken, of needing to feel the pain that he needed to give me.

I knelt there on the bed. I was still….even as parts of me trembled …my core was still for I knew I was right where I needed to be. He was standing by the counter in the apartment. I could smell the alcohol on the cotton balls and I could hear the rubbery gloves slide over his strong hands. I was almost ready for this again. It had been a long time since he needed to do this to me. It has been too long he said. I do not question what it is he needs from me anymore. I am past that. I am past second guessing the pain…I take it and allow it to sooth me as I know it completes him.

Kneeling there I realized I was quite caught up in my own senses…the smells, the sounds…the clench of my own desire that pounded though my body causing my nipples to pucker and my cunt to clench. I didn’t hear him walk back to the bed. My eyes were tracing the pattern on the wall made by an errant painter bored with the white that covered the walls of our apartment. His hand went around my neck and he forced my head up so that my eyes were meeting his. The gloves on his hand felt odd…as if he was detached somehow. I struggled against his grasp allowing that last moment of panic wash over me. Knowing that in a moment I would be on my back tightly tied awaiting the assault of the cold alcohol on my skin.

He squeezed my neck harder and reminded me with his words what he was going to do to me. He stepped back and showed me the tray on the bed beside me. A line of needles decorated the tray. It was a blend of my Richard that was standing in front of me; so caring and his hands had softened…his eyes half reassuring me that all was alright yet the darkness was there. The darkness that would allow him to tie me down and through my pleas…through my whimpers of panic and finally through the calmness of what can only be called pure submission…he would slide the thin needles beneath my skin.

He was deliberate in how he touched me…in how he lifted my wrists and my ankles in the tight cuffs. How his eyes flashed up at me as he tightened them…how the language of his body spoke of total dominance….I was trusting and owned and I was still.

The hard smell of the alcohol hit my nose. I felt the coldness of it on my skin and I turned my head away from him. He told me he was going to go slow, he told me that he knew what I could take and that he would ask no more of me. I felt the needle slide quickly in and then out of my skin….no pain. I breathed deep and felt the hot desire pulse through his fingers scorching my skin. He told me he was proud of me and to get ready for another…and another. I felt the needles collect across my skin…..I knew he covered both my breasts with needles. After the first few I stopped feeling anything except warm. I was warm everywhere as my body struggled to get past the horror of what was happening. I felt surged with desire. I felt dizzy with all that was happening…the cool alcohol on my skin…the pinch as the metal bit into me…..the heat on his fingers.

I realized that although I was tightly restrained I did not struggle. I was still. I was safe there with him. I wanted to offer him all of me….I hoped he would take it. When the first needle touched my cunt I only shivered slightly. I knew struggling would be pointless…by then I did not want to struggle. I wanted to submit. I loved that feeling that was all over me…the feeling of being another’s canvas…of meeting his need through my submission. I don’t question his needs…even when they turn dark. Even when they come in the form of hypodermic needles.

bdsm · bondage · breast torture · caning · control · D/s · pain slut · pixies pictures · restraints · Richard · S/M · scary Richard · spanking · sub space

more scary Richard

February 3, 2008September 2, 2015 pixiepie16 Comments

I do not know where to start. Tonight was different. I spent the evening with Richard at the apartment. Right away he put me on my knees….well almost. He couldn’t help but to admire my skirt and tights….the lacy white panties beneath. Then he put me on my knees. I could (and may already have) describe an entire post to what it feels like to kneel in front of him. It is everywhere I have ever been and everywhere I want to continue to go. Richard scared me tonight. My scary Richard made an appearance. I think I saw first hand how close he comes to losing control sometimes. The idea both frightens me and arouses me. The risk has always been there. I like that, I like that there is an element of danger behind his touch. It adds something to our dynamic knowing that he can get to the point where he can truly scare me, where he can scare even himself. Richard’s favorite implement to hurt me with is the cane. Or at least it was…I suspect that there is another item that is a close second. My crafty Dominant made me a small paddle. It is a thin board about twelve inches long. Innocuous enough, right? Flip it over. On the backside of it he pressed about a dozen tacks through the thin wood. The wood is thick enough to secure the tacks and just thin enough to allow the tips of the tacks poke through. He made initially for my breasts….he thought it would be great fun to have me lay across this thin tortuous device and force the small tips of the tacks into my tender skin. Somewhere between construction and tonight and decided that it was much better to use it as a paddle. He had me over his knee and began to spank me with it. It was right away a most difficult sort of pain. I dislike the paddle anyway…I prefer the thin wispy cane to the flatness and solidity of a paddle. This paddle stung but then it ‘really stung’ as the small tips pierced the superficial layer of my skin. He hit me with it five or six times as I literally writhed across his lap asking him to stop already. Of course he didn’t. He wanted to know how it felt….if I could feel the tacks? “Yes Sir, I can feel them. Please stop.” I was tempted to ask to be caned. To beg him to use anything except for the small torture tool he was using.

He told me to get into position on the bed. ‘Position’ for me is on my knees and elbows, forehead down back arched. He loves this and puts me here quite often. Once in position he began to hit me with the paddle, again and again. I felt sweaty and I wanted to roll away from it, from him and refuse to take anymore. I asked him over and over if he was finished….if he was done.

He told me no…he said he hadn’t made me bleed yet. He wanted to hurt me, he wanted to make me bleed. He told me he Owned me and I would take what he expected. As the paddle continued to come down I held on tight to the blankets and buried my head in the covers. I could feel him, sense his need and I knew tonight would be a night where he needed to hurt me more than I needed to be hurt. At this point was not afraid of him yet only afraid of this new pain and my own reaction to it. What a difference that makes…..being afraid of what he can do, what he is able and capable of doing and being afraid of him as a person, as a Dominant.The paddle truly stung and he smacked it on my bottom and the backs of my legs. He would pause and touch my cunt…telling me how wet I was for him. I knew I was, I could feel it on the tops of my thighs. He made me lie flat and he continued to paddle me…hard strokes. I knew somehow in my head he was breaking the skin. I could feel the sting of the tack tips and closed my eyes tight against the pain. I tried to focus on his breathing…I heard him, I tried to focus on his pleasure. I felt his hand in my hair and it yanked my head around to face him. He showed me the paddle…the thin pale wood was splattered with crimson. My blood covered the wood. He talked to me…said so many things in my ear….

Before we get to those things that I was whispering in your ear (they were awful, vile things, weren’t they? You must tell everyone as many of them as you can remember), I must explain that Scary Richard was so very much in evidence but he seemed melded into that Dom Space part of me. Do you remember me pressing myself into you, my face couldn’t get enough of your neck your face, your hair; your back; I just kept stopping and grasping you, and putting my hands all over you, and pulling you close to me. I couldn’t get close enough, I couldn’t get inside you, my brain was trying to be inside your head, it was like nothing I have ever felt – at least not for such an extended period of time. And the longer it lasted, the scarier that Scary Richard got. When I couldn’t get inside of you, Scary Richard tried harder and harder to demonstrate his Ownership, his total dominion over you, he tried to consume you as a way of making us one. And each time he paused and realized there were still two bodies there, two separate minds, he tried harder, he asked – no, demanded – more of you, take more pain, hear more words of humiliation, say these things, give me all of you, I am taking all of you, I am hurting you more, and harder, and more, I am making you bleed, and all that before the cane came out…..

That is just how I remember you. I remember when you tied me down. This was after you made me bleed with the paddle. Isn’t that funny how the part of our evening that resulted in blood shed is not remembered as the most intense part? I remember kneeling on the bed. On my knees and elbows…face down. I know you were spanking me hard with the paddle. I wasn’t scared yet. I was still there. Scary Richard was just lurking there at the egde, a shadow.

Yes, after the paddle, I got a cold washcloth and cleaned up the blood to make sure you weren’t seriously bleeding. I stopped to take pictures, do you remember that? I also took one of the bloody board. God that sounds horrible – the bloody board. But you liked looking at it, and knowing you had bled for me. You remember me tying your arms and legs to the four corners of the bed. I didn’t put your cuffs on, I just tied the rope to your wrists and ankles. I suppose subconsciously I wanted the rope to hurt you more than the cuffs would. No, that is not honest. It wasn’t subconscious – I am just hiding it from myself. I wanted it to hurt you more. I wanted you to feel the raw rope rubbing your tender skin when you struggled against the pain I was going to give you. I wanted it and I knew I wanted it when I did it. Do you remember the next day when you were showing me your marks I checked your wrists to see if there were rope burns there? I didn’t tell you, but I was disappointed that there weren’t any. That was the residual Scary Richard, lurking just beneath the surface, 18 hours later. I began to cane you, slowly at first, with the small cane – up and down from your shoulders to your thighs. You love the cane on your back. Even as much as it hurts there with no real padding. After a while I gave you two hard strokes across your back, around your shoulder blades. You gasped and tried to turn to look at me. Two red marks appeared immediately. I laid down on top of you, pressing you to the bed, again burying my face in your neck and hair, suppressing your complaint about the force of the blows, making you accept them. Again, I whispered to you what a cunt you were, how totally I owned you, that I was going to take everything from you, use you, hurt you, humiliate you, pleasure you. Do you remember? Do you? Tell your readers what you remember, pixie, then I will fill in the details, because I remember it all. It is burned in my brain – what I said to you, what I made you say, what I did to you.

I remember you on top of me. And that I could hardly breath but I welcomed it. I also remember your breath tickling my ear and my neck. I was not really scared yet but I sensed a difference feeling in the air. I sensed that you were leading me to a place that wasn’t too frequently visited outside fantasies and daydreams. That is part of what makes ‘us’ so special. You make what used to be a daydream come true.I remember some of what you said. I remember you using a word with me that you never have before. You made me say it and it was hard for me. It was horrible. But you were there above me when I said it….hurting me and I can say anything to you then. I don’t want to even type it.

You are remembering some of it, aren’t you? First I told you that you were my cunt, but you are used to that. I made you tell me you were my fucktoy – you said it, “I am your fucktoy.” Then it got worse. I made you tell me you were my whore, didn’t I? You fought that, you didn’t want to say it. But Scary Richard was there so you said it. Then what? I told you that all you were was 3 holes, and that I was going to fill every one of them. It may have been about then that I pulled out of your cunt and cruelly pushed my cock into your ass, fulfilling your fantasy that I take you “back there” without preparing you first. I know that hurt you, with just the juice from your cunt, although as usual there was plenty of that, but without any preliminary stretching or internal lube. I just pushed it in, and continue whispering vile things into your ear. I asked you if I should spit on you and you said yes, and I spit on the side of your face and then rubbed my face in it, until both of us were covered in my spit. I kept pulling out and caning your ass, in pairs, always two hard strokes, then back to fucking you, then more strokes, in pairs, sometimes two or three pairs, harder each time, then more fucking. I know you can take more caning when I fuck you between strokes. By now we both knew that Scary Richard was in charge, at least for a while, and the caning was very intense. I think you were slipping away a little, but the cane continued to cause a reaction. You squirmed away from it, then you would push your ass back in the air for more. I told you that you were in the zone, do you remember me saying that? You were in the zone where you could take anything I gave you. I lost track of the number of strokes, of the minutes that went by, I just kept on caning and fucking you, occasionally stopping to bury my face in you, trying again to meld into you. Finally, I pulled out and went around to the side of the bed. I wanted to cane you from the other side, to even out the effect I was having on your ass. My right-hand blows were falling hardest on your left cheek. As I began to cane you again, you almost immediately went away. I gave you a pair of hard strokes and you did not even move a muscle, and I knew you were gone. Usually I stop then, and wait for your return. But Scary Richard said to himself, “good, now I can really do anything I want.” I gave you another two hard strokes, and then did it again. At the third pair, you picked up your head and looked at me blankly. I pressed you down and told you to go back to where it was safe, that I was there with you. I neglected to tell you that Scary Richard was there with you. You went away and I gave you three more pairs of hard strokes before you opened your eyes again. Again I comforted you. Again I caned you. I finally got Scary Richard to back off and I untied you. While you were still gone, I quickly slipped into the bathroom to wash my hands – I wasn’t gone 30 seconds. When I returned you were sitting up in bed with the comforter around your shoulders, looking blankly around the room. I thought, Oh no, she isn’t supposed to come back when I’m not there with her, and I quickly laid you down and covered you and held you. You were away a long time, gradually coming back like you always do, with a smile and squirming into me and enjoying the residual pain and pleasure. But what did I say to you? I said we needed to do something to get Scary Richard back in his cage. I said this as I cruelly grabbed and twisted your breasts, and as I nearly picked you up off the bed by grabbing your cunt lips and the skin around your pudendum, just grabbing it and pulling up and twisting. I said, we need to get him back in his cage, and buried my head in you again. Rubbing my face all over you, biting your entire breast, leaving teeth marks in you. You said, “I like Scary Richard.” I wonder if you remember that. I wonder if you remember any of this. You keep having small flashbacks of just pieces of it. Come, dear pixie, and tell us what you remember. Have I taken you far enough along that it is coming back to you? What did I tell you to do to take care of Scary Richard and send him away? Tell us what happened next, if you can.

control · D/s · focus · restraints · Richard

trust

January 20, 2008July 12, 2011 pixiepie24 Comments

He had adjusted the clasps on my cross at some point so my arms and legs were attached more securely. They were higher, tighter and somehow it made me feel more exposed. As if being naked stretched out in front of him wasn’t quite enough. I know this is part of it for Richard, it always has been. The slow breaking down of boundaries, of walls I didn’t know I had until there is not even the thin veil of modest pride between us. That is where we are now as I am stretched naked out in front of him. Arms and legs pulled apart….all of me open to his gaze and to his touch. I am more helpless with him now that I ever was before…even when I didn’t know him that well and the bridges of trust were being constructed I was never this vulnerable with him. It is because there are no real boundaries, no real or hard limits between us.

I was more stretched out than I had ever been on the cross. My toes barely touched the floor and my arms were high above my head. It seems almost ritualistic to stand there at the cross and willingly lift my arms up to be attached to the metal hooks and then adjust my legs so they too could be restrained. It is a thrilled dark willingness that comes from some place inside of me, from that place that begs to be understood but knowing that if spend too much time wondering I will go crazy. I understand it better each day, I am understood by him better each time I allow him to visit the darkness inside of me that only he can light up. There is so much good here, so much growth and so much positive. Yet, I am at the point where I know I risk my submission faltering. My hope is that it will surge forward and continue to grow just as it has grown over the past several months.

I told Richard that I am feeling the changes; it is making me question the viability of what we have. Is it possible that this wonderful dynamic we have created is to come to an end? It makes me sad of course to even consider that. Our last two times together have been a series of some of the most intense and bond building moments between us. It has grown and is something that even I am in awe of. I didn’t think there could be more, that he could take more or that he would expect more. I know that Richard’s need to give me pain exceeds my ability to take it….I knew that even before he held me down after taking me off the cross. Even before he bit painfully into my breast pulling a small flap of skin into his mouth and then holding it tightly between his fingers…..and even before he told me that this is where he would to drive a small nail into my skin…that this is where he would attach me to the cross next time. Just in and out he said…a small nail through an even smaller expanse of skin. What did I think of that he asked? It is the worst type of questions that can only be answered with a moan. We have grown. There is no doubt in my mind that I am owned, that he is in control of my submission as sure as he is in control of my body when I am with him….and even more lately when I am not with him. I am focused more on him and his ownership of me. He will leave a dark mark on me…a horrible bruise or a vicious cane stroke that will rise up on my skin and linger for days just so he can remind me that he put it there. Just so he can remind me that I am his to do with as he pleases….and that I am loved, and owned. Of this, of all of these things I have no doubts.

Yet I doubt.

I feel a falling away, a slow decent of a vital element that was always just taken for granted between us. One that I need more than the pain itself, more than the direction, more than the heavy feeling of ownership that Richard has brought to my life….it is the slow crumbling of trust. It is an inadvertent pulling away of the dependability of the man that I must be able to trust without question. I feel as if emotionally I have been set adrift on my own. It is a slow pushing away from shore yet I feel his foot firmly on the boat- softly shoving. It scares me to feel like this. Couple that with the heightened level of our physical connection. I feel the strain, I am preoccupied with it and it plays around in my mind like a thought that threatens to cover everything else up. It is a shadow and it reminds me of the same shadow that threatened us when L was preparing to return to the country to live with Richard again….similar to the shadow that made me believe that things would end between us then.

I also am fighting with this guilty feeling that indignantly reminds me I have no right to feel lost. If I feel abandoned it is only because I have grown too dependent, to emotion needy. Who am I to feel as if I am lacking something from him? I am just his submissive, right? Am I allowed to question…to need, to feel sad if my world somehow feels shaken too.

The bomb he dropped on L was life altering and he is beholden to walk her through this darkness until she begins to see some light. I wonder though if I am getting lost in that darkness…if the shadows that he forces between us to keep her settled are too much for me to keep from disappearing into. I fear it may be. I fear that I am slipping away into a place where I can provide physical release to Richard but he will not require me to have a place with him emotionally. He won’t need that from me….as odd as it sounds my very existence in his life and the revelations that my presence prompted in their life makes their relationship more even…they are closer. He has changed towards me and in some ways that I am not going to be able to work with. He is taking less care with me. For example…and I run the risk of this sounding petty or childish but I also know that my readers who are submissive, who thrive on routine and consistency from their Dom will understand me. Richard has always understood that the time after he and I being together is as important as the actual exchange of power and pain. Often he makes it a point that he and I close an evening or time together somewhere public…having dinner..or lunch together. For example when I spent time with Max and Alex it was in our contract that we do something ‘vanilla’ afterwards to close it out in my mind. Just a simple way to make sure I am pulled together. That I have that submissive layer pulled back enough to make me capable of functioning and allowing me to have the strength to keep myself from getting lost in the shadows of the sub-drop that I am prone to.

It is less important somehow now. I take a lot of time and energy and right now Richard is trying hard to convince L that I do not all the while knowing that I do. She referred to what he and I together in an email to me (yes…L and I are communicating) as an arrangement. It has never been an arrangement….it is a relationship. Richard never saw me or what we shared as an arrangement; he never made me feel otherwise until the other night.

The other night….he and I shared an intense evening after which he spent just enough time holding me and talking to me and pulling me (and him) back together. As we lingered at the apartment we shared a feeling of awe that we were so connected…that what we have together just feels so perfect. I never realized though how dependent that feeling hinges on my feeling of safeness and need for nurture by him. There was a feeling of not wanting to leave him or the safeness of the apartment; a place where regardless of what happens or is expected on the outside here within these walls I am his.

I could feel that I was still a little pulled open…a bit foggy, not quite back to where I needed to be. Like I said he is more and more demanding of me physically and I am finding that my threshold for pain is growing steadily as is my ability to control if I allow myself to slip away or not. Keeping in mind my sometimes need for a separate closure of the evening…especially when it was extra intense we decided that we would meet for a bowl of soup before we headed home. It was cold out and there had been an ice storm earlier that day. It was one of those nights where I needed to shake the feeling of ‘safe haven’ that the apartment provides me. I knew that part of it was the newness of knowing that when he left me he was going home to L where in the past it was always him just going home to an empty house. Typically we would share a long conversation….a debriefing so to speak. All the nighttime reassurance that a submissive like me requires to get past the creeping dropping feelings that sometimes comes after taking a large amount of pain can usually be met by that last word before I close my eyes. That obviously wasn’t going to happen as I was very much aware that just as this was a first to me…it was the first time that L was home alone waiting for Richard to come home.

I knew Richard needed and expected me to be strong for him.

I so desperately wanted to do that. He followed me to the restaurant but motioned for me to not get out, instead he got out and got into my car. He said he needed to get home. That he needed me to be strong and that he needed to go home.

I can’t begin to describe how his words made me feel. I felt like he withdrew from me and I felt a strong need to pull away from him, from this man who pulled so much out of me moments before yet all of a sudden seemed so unwilling to put something back. I am not sure why I reacted so negatively. I felt as if he had reached in and just snapped off apiece of me that he had grown…s piece of me that always trusted him to do as he said. I was confused and unsure why he would decide to not spend an extra few minutes with me. I told him that I would rather he said goodbye to me at the apartment instead of changing his mind. I felt insignificant…as if all that had happened over the past few hours now that it was over didn’t matter to him. That maybe I was just going to be this physical release for him that would complete him somehow because he doesn’t have it with L….yet I would have to learn to take the lack and the loss of his love and care because he is getting that from her.

I told Richard that I feel as if my submission to him is deeper than it ever has been. He feels it too and he knows we have somehow crossed over another boundary where there is no resistance between his need and my willingness to meet those needs. I am falling back, falling away and I have no doubt about that. Liam describes this entire situation as Richard changing the rules on me halfway through the game. I wonder if he is right somehow, I am not sure about that. I know Liam has his own agenda in regards to Richard. Mark said that I needed to be cautious that I didn’t fall into a pattern of allowing myself to be used (in a bad way).

I do know that for all the good Richard’s revelation has given to his relationship with L and really even to what he and I have it has taken something away. I am aware that open conversation with Richard is the only way I can get through this. He demands I tell him how I am feeling even if it isn’t what he wants to hear. He wants to know so he can be supportive of my needs. We are not able to communicate as freely as what I am accustomed to…especially on the evenings and weekends. It was easier before she knew….I had more of him because he wasn’t cushioning everything against her reaction. Yesterday he called me and told me it was just a quick check in…he wanted to hear my voice and know I was safe as I was traveling. He told me to expect a real call from later, that I would hear from him again. I never did. I got a text message that said he had compromised….that he wasn’t calling me but he was texting me. I felt cold as if he wasn’t the one who compromised….it was me who was compromised. For the second time in as many days he broke a trust with me. The one I trust more than anyone else…the very person I must completely trust just to insure my ability to submit to him had broken that trust two times. I emailed him……..

“I know I was upset when you didn’t call me and I can explain that. You have never let me down before, not ever. Right now it seems like my emotions are of very little importance to you in the grand scheme of things and I suppose that only makes sense because ‘wife’ pulls rank. I expected to hear from you today again not because I felt entitled to it but because you, my Dom, my Owner said that I would. I expected to sit down and have soup w/ you the other night not because I needed more ‘wind down’ time or because I felt entitled to that extra time with you but because you said that we would. I need to know that I can trust you, THAT is why this has worked so well between us. If I can’t trust you to do what you say to me I can’t trust you to take care of me emotionally. Right now I feel as if that isn’t your priority and of course it isn’t but at least I need to know that you aren’t just saying to me what I want to hear and then letting me down. Please…please don’t say I will hear from you if I won’t…and please don’t plan time with me if you can’t. It builds me up and gives me strength only to be let down. I know how hard this is, on you and on her. You say it is worth it. And maybe to you it is. Right now to me, it is hard. I don’t have good feelings right now about this. I feel sort of let go by you to fend for myself and I am not good with this. You know even more than I do that what I give you takes so much from me. Maybe there is something to be said for you and I slowing all this down to an almost ‘halt’ to give her time to get used to it. I know that I can’t intensify my level of submission to you and the pain I take from you but have the emotional support decreased. THAT is exactly what has happened and it has left me feeling pulled apart and vulnerable. I don’t like it. I can’t do it this way. You said today you compromised by TM me instead of calling me. Fine except you said…I will call you later today. Coming off of Friday I should have been able to talk to you today like you said I would. It makes me sad that you are so able to forget my needs…sad and happy at the same time. Happy because the less you put into me the more you have to give her…and that is where your life and future is, and that is where your energy should go. I am learning that lesson right now in my own way.”

And I am. I know that there are relationships for me that I am withholding myself from because I have Richard. Because he meets that emotional need and physical need in my life. Because it was enough- Now it is less…and it makes wonder if I am doing the right thing. I do not really want to be the one who makes his marriage better…not if I am losing parts of what I have with him. I am his submissive…but with that comes the knowledge that my needs as his submissive must be considered and met. I acknowledge things have changed…I am not feeling the same. I want to believe this is temporary…the potential between he and I with her knowing looks bright. I know we have some adventures ahead but it won’t work, it can’t work if the basic element of trust is gone. Where will that leave me…when trust is broken I see it differently. It changes my level of submission….it leaves me in that scary place where I do not know if the cost is too high or if it is worth waiting out.

bondage · breast torture · caning · D/s · daddy/little girl · knife play · pain slut · pixies pictures · restraints · Richard · S/M

Friday night

January 14, 2008July 12, 2011 pixiepie10 Comments

Friday night was amazing. In my mind it has somehow chopped itself up into small distinguishable parts that ultimately come back together. We were relaxed with each other..I was positively giddy just being with him. I knew he had plans for me, plans that could quite possibly give me some of the hard pain that I so desired from him…the type of pain that he had been hesitant to deliver because of my experience with Liam. The feeling was in the air that I had been nurtured enough…

So much happened. I love the way he and I flow together. We play off of each others moods and needs and we realize they can change in any given moment. The evening started out innocently enough. I asked permission to freshen up in the bathroom of the apartment. He of course granted my request and gave one of his own. He asked me to not undress just yet. I had come directly from my office and still wore a small skirt and button down top and sweater…not quite school girlish but close. Close enough to put thoughts in my Owner’s head. 🙂

I emerged from the bathroom and he was standing there at the door. He grabbed my arm and pressed me against the kitchen wall. He kissed me…he asked me how school was going…if I had left my backpack at school? Uh-oh…I knew where this was going and right away felt my cunt clench involuntarily.

“How is daddy’s little girl?” he asked me standing closer to me, making me feel smaller than I even am. ”

All this led to one of the hottest daddy/little girl moments between us…it was perfect. I just don’t feel like writing about it right now….but it led us to what is on my mind right now.

Afterwards we were laying together..breathing together and just feeling lost in the moment. Above me some ropes had slipped sown from the high backboard of our bed. I knew he had them secured tight…tight enough to hold me. I was on my back and he was by my side with his arms wrapped tightly around me. I wiggled away and reached playfully for the rope. We just talked softly to each other for a few minutes and as we did I played with the ropes…eventually winding them into the metal clasps of my wrists restraints. Richard laughed at me and fixed the knot so he could tighten the rope and lift my arms straight over my head. He straddled me and looked down into my face. I felt his hands brush my skin and pull through my hair…his fingers resting on my nipples before pulling them hard. Playtime was over. He has large hands and my breasts hide beneath them….he is rough as he pulls and presses into my body..his fingers leaving dark and red smudges against my white skin. I am moaning aloud at the pain and the pleasure of it. I like when he handles me this way..love that the laughter is gone from his face and the intense…concentrating look is there..the one that whispers he is going to hurt me…that I should be ready because I am His and that he can do anything to me..anything at all to my body. It is that face that tells me I am his slut, his cunt and that he will make use of me in anyway he desires. I am his..his words and his look tell me that.

His hands were hurting me..I felt the pulses of his fingertips with the pounding of my own blood in my ears. I get so eager right before I know he is going to hurt me..my body jumps at it sensing that something deep within me needs this, needs him to somehow feel centered and complete.

I loved the pull of my own weight on my wrists and I loved feeling it in my back and my shoulders. He had tightened the rope so my head wasn’t fully making contact with the bed beneath me. As hard as that was I liked it because it tilted my head back..allowing him access to my throat and my neck. I knew the knife was still somewhere near the bed and he wouldn’t hesitate to hold it at my throat, to drag it between my breasts creating a tiny bloody path to my cunt…as I leaned towards sub space I half hoped he wouldn’t….yet half longed to feel the cold metal against the delicate softness of my neck.

The warm feelings of being totally vulnerable and at his mercy were thick around me..I can get quite lost in feeling that helpless. The knife never reappeared. He left me for a moment and opened the cabinet close to the bed. He straddled me again and showed me what he was holding.

“I love this cane.” he said in a matter of fact voice. The one that tells me he is detaching parts of himself from me..almost like he needs to pull away slightly from the love we share and focus on giving me the pain that he needs me to take in order to satisfy that drive inside himself. Only I know that he does not..that our deep emotional connection is what makes this possible. Love is not a hindrance to his sadistic brutality rather for me and with me it is a catalyst, it is what feeds the exchange. Now that I recognize it for what it is…I crave that from him. I know that beneath everything he does to me he does it never forgetting that he loves me, that he is responsible for me, that into his hands the safekeeping of another person has been delivered. That makes me feel taken…completely taken and engulfed by his need as my own need to feel pain, to feel vulnerability and helplessness is met. He has never let me down..it is amazing that we meet each others needs so perfectly.

As I write this I think back to a comment that was made by a reader about being a true submissive..I think it said something about a person not being a true submissive if they wanted their own needs met. It is so clear to me…being submissive is my need. So aren’t I in fact meeting my needs just be giving myself to Richard? (Duh…) And by that definition there would be a lot of lost submissives…it is a circular. I wouldn’t be there if I didn’t grow from it, if I didn’t crave it and need it and desire it and him so.

But anyway…

The cane started tapping on my right breast. He still held my nipple…pulling it away from my body stretching the already tight skin out so it was almost taunt. He talked to me..he said so many things…sometimes I feel the need to not leave his words out here for all to read. Sometimes I type them and selfishly delete them only to wrap them all back around me and keep them all to myself. Words are like magic when he covers me with them…almost like small secret thoughts that only I can see…that only I can understand. I love being that safe place for him…it reminds me of his own vulnerabilities and makes me love him even more.

The cane was relentless. Richard brought it down across my breasts over and over. His other hand had left my nipple to play in my cunt…as asked him if I could please touch myself. He allowed me to…and I surged forward in my desire when his hand was free to come back to my breasts. In all the time I have known Richard…this was the most severe caning he had ever given me on my breasts. My body was there the entire time…my mind was aware of the pain but somehow it was filtered. The noise of the cane was somehow louder than it’s bite. The ache, the sting, the tearing hot feeling of wood against soft skin was ever present yet somehow my mind made it into pleasure. I felt nothing but alive…tingling with sparks of light and desire and hot need as the cane brutally snapped against my skin. I heard his voice..I heard him exclaiming that he couldn’t believe that I was taking it for him…and then it came down harder and faster and still I didn’t resit. I knew somewhere in my head that I should be in agony..that the swing of the cane should be making me scream and twist and pull away…yet it did not. At one point he dropped the cane and I begged him for more…I didn’t want him to stop. The energy of him getting what he needed was all around me..we were feeding from each other. Like sustenance. I could have taken anything from him at that point..given him anything..allowed him to do anything he wanted.

When he stopped again this time he ignored my plea for more…he said he risked taking me past what was good for me. I remember whimpering into his shoulder as he untied me…and I remembered him gathering me close to him and his grip on me damp body was so tight. We give each other this. This wonderful ‘thing’ that is impossible to write about as it can’t be fully captured using words. I haven’t the ability to get it just write…to put you there like I wish I could. It is visceral and elusive…and I can only hope that those of you have felt it understand it and those of you who don’t can try and see how it all falls together. What makes it flow and dance as if the best and the darkest in each of us has somehow found it’s match.

I know he held me for a long, long time. He always does when he knows I need it…he has too. That is why he and I will never again attempt a quick afternoon meeting involving pain…it takes more from me than it leaves me with. It damages me and being the Dominant that he is…he will never damage me.

I want to write more about this night…and I will. I have been out of town this weekend and am finally home. Home and exhausted. I think I am meeting my Owner for lunch tomorrow….it is past my bedtime and I feel it. Goodnight for now…

bondage · breast torture · caning · clothes pins · control · D/s · daddy/little girl · flogging · focus · limits · love · nipple clips · pain slut · restraints · Richard · S/M · scary Richard · spanking · sub space

back to good

January 8, 2008November 12, 2012 pixiepie17 Comments

I saw Richard today over a long extended afternoon lunch. I was afraid that things would feel differently. Isn’t it strange how your mind can make you think and your thoughts can make you feel vulnerable? I am trying so hard to not think about myself right now..I think that by nature I have a selfish streak in me. Richard is helping me with that…it isn’t a deliberate lesson it is by example. Some may see what he did as selfish. There are certainly points supporting that…some may support staying in a marriage that doesn’t meet your most base needs because it is the right thing to do…I admire him for giving her the chance to really know and accept him for who he really is.

Yet like I said..I am selfish and often my first thought is ‘me…how is this going to change this wonderful thing that I have found?’ So today when Richard called me this morning and said he wanted..no needed to see me over a long lunch I was thrilled. The color was high in my face and I floated through my busy morning. I was at an amusement park all weekend…the Merry-go-round…..the teeter-totter..the roller coaster experience of this entire thing had exhausted me and I needed to find solace in Richard’s arms. He knew this. He knew I needed him today…our need was shared and when I walked in the apartment he was quick to gather me up and hold me. He whispered a million reassurances in my ear…asking me to never doubt what I mean to him..what ‘this’ meaning the gifts we give each other mean to him…and that everything was working out…and that I was still very much Owned by him. He said so much yet his hands on me said so much more.

He was wearing a towel when I walked in..still damp from the shower. He teased me that I can look at him naked now without blushing. Somehow we both ended up stretched out on the bed and he just held me against him and we talked about his weekend. He told me specifics about some conversation he had with L and we talked about how her acceptance of me in his life was evolving more rapidly than what either of us expected. He looked happier than he has looked in awhile..I realize what a weight this has been for him. It has to be hard to not show your true self to the one you love…and on top of that to find yourself loving another.

His hands were steadily climbing up my skirt until he finally growled in my ear that I was wearing far too many clothes. I was wearing a tailored little black dress and he confessed to allowing me to leave it on because I looked so cute in it and his favorite color for me is black. He helped me pull the dress over my head and he removed my silk hose….and matching black panties. My bra was so charming I thought for a minute he was going to allow me to leave it on but it soon joined the rest of my clothing across the back of the chair. He is always so careful with my clothes…just like he is careful with me. One of things he said to L over the weekend in defense of how often he plans on seeing me was that I am his property and he takes care of his property. I feel like his property. I always do but no more so than today. That feeling of being his was thick in the room. His dominance challenged me today…

Once I was naked his hands ran up and down my body..he told me he wanted me marked. I knew he wanted to hurt me. But first I hadn’t sucked his cock in awhile he said. He pushed me down to him I pulled him into my mouth loving the way I feel him tense and then relax into the sensation of what I am doing. He was on his back and had me positioned right between his legs. I know what he likes. I always try to catch his eye when I suck his cock but really almost never can. He watches me down there doing it so all I have to do is look up..and sometimes he tells me to…but usually I can’t suck his cock and maintain eye contact for any real amount of time. Richard shifted a bit and put a little pressure on my head..I went a little lower and asked permission to lick his balls. Of course he granted it…I love doing this for him. I am surrounded by him…breathing him in and I love it. All of it..how I pleasure him with my tongue and mouth…how I know there is something coming. There is something about sucking your Owners cock moments before you know he is going to beat you..I may find the words to describe that one day. Richard says things to me when I have my mouth full of his cock that drive me insane…this is always a good time to hear what a little slut I am…or all the things he is going to do to me. Today I felt him very firmly reestablish his ownership of me. I felt his hands around my neck..I felt him slip a rope around my neck and tighten it. I heard his breathing quicken and loved that I was pleasuring him. I asked him if I could lick his ass and barely struggled with the question like I used to..I wanted to do it. He allowed me to play for a few moments longer before pulling me up to his chest and then kissing me hard on the mouth. We kissed a lot today…everything felt like it was turned up ten notches. Every touch on my skin was enhanced by something….we just flowed like we so often do together yet there was something else between us today that added to the rightness of our touches. He told me that he wanted me on my tummy. He placed my cuffs on my ankles and wrists and said he wanted no doubt in my mind that I was restrained. He didn’t want me to move at all he told me, I had been too long without the cane. He had been easy on me lately he whispered. That was over.

After a few minutes I was face down legs and arms spread and tightly tied to the respective four corners of the bed. He traced a hand from my neck down to my ankles..and I heard him whisper ‘beautiful’ under his breath. He started with a spanking…with his hand making hard contact with my bottom..harder than he usually spanks me. After just a minute or so I was really feeling it yet I arched my bottom towards him wanting to encourage him to continue as I tried to get lost in both the pain and the pure simplistic pleasure of being on the receiving end of a spanking. he told me how helpless I am….said that he could do anything he wanted with me. He reminded me that I am Owned, that I am His..that he will never let me go and that he will do absoloutly anything he wants to to me. Such words to hear strapped down to a bed..my Owner was in a sadistic mood. He really did want to hurt me.

He started to flog me..not hard. This was my warm up I could tell and it didn’t last long before I felt him tap the cane on my back. I felt him climb over me and he straddled my bottom yet held his weight off of me. I felt the cane bite down across my back….hard stroke after stroke. He doesn’t always cane my back…today he did. It seems almost primitive to be beaten across your back like this…I had told him as we snuggled before my clothes were removed that I felt giggly and girly that day as I was so happy to see him. I could tell he didn’t need or want the little girl side of me today..he needed his pain slut, he needed the submissive who would lick his ass and take two dozen cane strokes across her back. That is a terrible pain..my back is small and my skin is sensitive..yet I feel safe knowing he knows where to hit me and where to avoid hitting me. Funny how even when he is at his most sadistic self I never worry that he will leave any lasting damage to my body.

My back was alive with the cane strokes and I felt myself begin to get to the place in my head where I could take anything….not quite deep sub space but my own little ‘zone’. I am getting better at controlling when I go away so deeply…today I wanted to feel it all…I wanted to be an active participant in his sadism. He said he needed to fuck me..even as he caned me he needed to fuck me. I felt his hands on me as he spread my cheeks open..he told me to relax that he wanted to see me, that he wanted to see how I wet I was. He wanted to humiliate me. I wanted it too..so I tried to relax he admonished me for struggling. I felt his weight shift and then he was inside of me..deep inside of me. I came instantly on his cock loving how full he makes me feel…loving the feeling of his teeth on the back of my neck and on my shouders. He continued to cane me as he fucked me.

I felt him pull out and stand off to the side of me. I felt his hand on the small of his back and I felt the cane resting on my bottom. The warm up was over…he raised his hand and started bringing the cane down on my bottom. He was not going to show me any mercy today…I could tell. I pulled up strength to take it all from somewhere telling myself inside my own head that I am Owned..that he can do this to my body. Convincing myself that I could take whatever loving the feeling that comes with knowing I am powerless with him. Loving the sound of the cane as it makes contact with my skin..fighting the urge to turn my head and watch the strokes land with such precision across my bottom. I was drifting from the pleasure of it yet feeling the cane with every bit of my body. it was a hard caning…one of the hardest he has ever given me. His fingers found one spot on my right cheek and he pressed down into the soreness..pinching it causing me to moan and arch towards his hand. “I’ve broken your skin'” he said..the pleasure thick in his voice. “I’ll remember this day and so will you..the day your Owner made you bleed. Never doubt I Own you.” As if I could..knowing taking pain from him is but one side of being his submissive and typically that isn’t even the most challenging part. Today the pain was turned up…but I am a masochist. I was loving it..even as I felt my limits rush towards me I was able to sneak past them…taking all that he needed me to take. He changed canes…reminding me of just how truly sadistic he is and over the thin bloody welts already marking my bottom he caned me with a heavier thicker cane. The kind that bruises, the kind that hurts so bad there is no way you can get past it or on top of it. He continued to cane me…telling me things..whispering things to me that I needed to hear. The cane landed on my bottom over and over…he caned the backs of my legs down clear to my knees….and I was just an aching moaning pile of submissive need. I had pulled at my restraints enough to give myself enough slack to met the strokes by lifting my bottom to him. He told me what a good girl I was…I continually asked for more. Even as I wanted to ask him to stop I wanted to take more…I asked for more not wanting the pain to stop. My entire body was damp…I felt connected to the cane where I hardly knew when it wasn’t making contact with my swollen flesh.

At one point he was inside me again..pounding had into me..telling me what a good cunt I was. I felt the cane against my arm..that sensitive spot that is exposed only when your arms are tied tight above your head. The cane rested there and I heard myself beg him to not cane me there..”Yes” he whispered as he brought the cane down on the back of my arm again and again. I felt tears on my face and loved that he had taught me to cry and that it was safe to cry with him..that he welcomed my tears.

My mind was numb but for one thought…I was desperate to have him hold me. I needed to feel tightly held. It was almost a frantic searching for something that I knew I couldn’t communicate to him. I wanted to take everything but this need in me to have pressure around my body, to be pinned against him was stronger than my need for pain..stronger than even my need to submit to him and take the pain. It must have been in my voice..”please Sir..please hold me.”

The caning stopped and he was at my side…he untied my wrist and slipped beneath me effortlessly pulling me on top of him. It wasn’t enough…I needed to feel a part of him, if I could have been inside of him I would have. I needed to hear his heart pound to slow my own…he untied my other wrist and held me, tightly he held me as if realizing just what I needed. It was a moment in time where I was truly one with him so lost I was in being in his arms. My body was still hot with pain and I trembled against him. Something was loud in my ears..like a white noise. I could tell he was speaking and I concentrated on his words until the white noise slowed and then quieted all together. I whimpered when he moved away but he shushed me telling me he was untying my feet. A second later he was back and I was back inside of him..pulling strength from the heat of him and reveling in what he can do to my body. His body was wrapped around my own..I felt the solidness of him and it calmed me. He covered me up and held me…

He wasn’t finished. He still had that need to hurt me..there was going to be more. The beast had not yet been satisfied in my Owner yet I knew he would only go on when and if he knew I was able to take it. I am not sure how much time past us by before he pressed me back onto my back and straddled me. I was still trembly but I was ready to go on..ready to satisfy him..to submit to all that makes him who he is. He pulled on my nipples…he caned my breasts hard leaving bruises. He said he wanted my mouth on his balls again and he straddled my face. He caned my breasts as I licked his balls…he attached small tight wooden clips to my nipples…to my clit to the lips of my cunt as he caned me. He caned me over the clips so that every stroke was triple agony. He tormented me..ripping the clips form my cunt saying that he knew I wanted to touch my cunt. That he said he could see how wet I was…he said I was a slut..his slut and that I wasn’t allowed to touch my cunt. It was his and I should concentrate on pleasing my Owner. He said my thoughts should only be on my mouth and on his balls as I pleasured him. The cane continued it’s biting path down my body…he caned my open legs…my cunt..but always came back to my nipples. The sound of wooden cane hitting wooden clips…smashing my skin somewhere between the two carried me to the edge of subspace.

Somehow it ended. I felt his cum hit hot on my tummy…and I heard his deep moan..and felt the cane rest against my skin. I was at my limit I could take no more knowing that him cumming certainly didn’t mean he was done hurting me. Today though he was. He held me again running his hand through his own cum sliding hot fingers through it rubbing it across my face and lips. He pulled the blankets over us both and held me tightly to him…his words comforting me..his hands gently exploring my swollen damp skin.

As I sit here right now in the early early morning hours of the next day I feel the marks still..the deep ache in my muscles from that hard piece of wood. I am striped down my back….my bottom a mass of bruises and welts. I love it. I didn’t shower afterwards…I wanted to feel him dry on my skin and smell him on my body the rest of the day. It was only later that afternoon as I stood in the shower the steam forcing the scent of him mixed with my own scent up to my nose that I fully calmed myself. Somehow..something was different. I realized I had experienced no sub-drop. I made it through the afternoon…the darkest past of my evening without feeling lost, without feeling abandoned. I felt firmly directed, firmly guided by the invisible leash that was holding on to me. I knew Richard was home that evening, i knew there was still so much to talk about there. I also knew I was on my mind. Around 9 a text message came through..one word TOY..our acronym for ‘thinking of you’ and I knew that he was. I knew I was thinking of him as I couldn’t get our mixed smell from my nose. He called me right before my bedtime to check on me..to confirm what I already knew. I was on his mind..that he loved me…that I was very much Owned.

I feel asleep not feeling the marks of the cane..that were fierce and red still..and not feeling the bruising on my breasts or thighs or arms…but feeling Owned and needed and cherished. I felt as if in one day, in one afternoon all the negativity I had assigned my submission was gone. Somehow he did that for me.

I wish I could explain why all this works the way it does. I read my own words..the descriptions of what I take from/for him and sometimes I am even taken back. I can’t explain…it is elusive. It is indefinable. It is almost like another level of being alive..that is how intense it is where everything before looks whitish and quiet. I can’t imagine not having ‘this’, not having ‘him’ in my life.

bdsm · bondage · breath play · caning · limits · restraints · Richard · S/M

a little broken

January 4, 2008July 12, 2011 pixiepie3 Comments

I am the very worst type of submissive. I have stumbled in almost every aspect of my submission in the past 18 hours. I think that submission, that giving of myself, taking what I need to take to please my Owner is all of a sudden too difficult. In the past I only associated my submission with good feelings. The pain, the release, the wonder of all the feeling associated with the taking of pain and a total power exchange has only ever left me amazed. Right now I am struggling.

Yesterday I saw Richard. We had about an hour together. I had an afternoon meeting and he needed to get back to his office as well. So we had an hour. There are only so many emotions that one can experience in an hour. I may have possibly experienced them all. Typically my pain tolerance is fairly high. I know that I prefer my D/s experiences to be intense. I also know that like so many submissives I require a great deal of ‘after care’. I get lost in the feelings, lost in myself and lost in him. I have to. I can’t help it. When I fight that, when I know the pain of the cane or the flogger will be fully felt I struggle. It was like that yesterday. I had no tolerance.

I walked in the door of the apartment and he was already there. I was holding my cell phone in my hand and there was ringing on the other end. I was unsuccessfully attempting to get in touch with my dad. Richard walked right up to me and kissed me. I love how he kisses me. His hands immediately began to unfasten my winter coat (yes…winter coat 29 degrees in NC today…brrrr). His hands swiftly delved beneath the warmth of my sweater to capture my breasts..pinching my nipples hard. I dropped the phone. I really hope my dad never eventually picked up…that would have made for an awkward moment. 🙂

Richard pressed me against the door of the apartment and lifted my arms above my head. He was torturous with my breasts, gentle with his kisses and hard with his words. His hand slipped inside my open pants and he thrusts it deep inside my cunt as he pulled hard and bit at my nipple. He told me to cum, asked if I could cum through the pain. I did.

He told me to remove my pants and boots. He backed away and sat on the bed while I undressed with him. In only my bra and sweater he pulled me down so I knelt in front of him. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his smell. I could have lingered there for the next hour, kneeling there in front of him having his arms holding me. I felt so safe and comforted, like everything was going to be fine. He told me to lift my arms and he pulled my sweater and bra over my head. I love how his hands go up and down my back, how he explores every inch of my skin and how his fingers define every small bone. His hands paid special attention to my neck. He wrapped his hands around my slim neck and held them there exerting only the slightest bit of pressure. It made me tremble, it made me whimper and snuggle closer to him. The feeling that he will do anything to me he pleases is comforting and threatening all at the same time.

He had me suck his cock…but only for a few minutes.

“Your cuffs are on the couch, go get them and put them on.”

It had been a while since Richard restrained me. I wondered what he was planning.

“Stand up and go to your cross.”

Ahhh..the cross. Something else that we haven’t used in awhile. I stood in front of the solid wood and lifted my arms high and allowed him to restrain me spread eagle.

“So helpless…” he whispered. He looked at me and then closed his eyes as if it was almost too overwhelming for him…the beginnings of ‘Dom space’ perhaps? He told me that I was so beautiful. My arms stretched and pulled and I was not able to be fully flat footed. Still, the cross is a favorite of mine. I love the vulnerability of it, how I know I could not possibly get away or get myself down. It leaves me fully at his mercy…a feeling that is erotic in its own right not to mention the pure pain possibilities of being strapped naked to a piece of wood.

I lose touch here a little. I know his fingers played with me…I remember him playing with my cunt and telling me how wet I was. I remember being flogged. Hard. I have a lovely white doeskin flogger that is so heavy. There are really a million ways he can use it. He started slowly but within a few strokes it was snapping at my breasts..my tummy and my legs. I felt it more than usual. Even the softer strokes felt harder. I didn’t know why.

He unbuckled me and turned me around only attaching my legs to the cross. He told me to reach around and spread myself open for him. This is impossible for me to do almost even on a good day, I found it difficult today. Yet my hands slightly spread the cheeks of my bottom apart so he could see, so he could humiliate me in this way that he knows only he can.

“Not good enough, spread them for me further than that. Don’t make me do it, I can spread them further than that.” Not wanting that I opened myself to him the best I could and felt his hand on me. He has away of touching all my spots with one of his hands. He borrowed wetness from my cunt and slipped a finger deep into my exposed ass while rubbing my clit at the same time. While my submission came hard my orgasms did not. When he told me to cum against his finger I already was.

He secured my hands to the cross again and he began flogging my back and my bottom. Hard heavy strokes with the flogger on my body…over and over. I felt need dripping down my leg and I pressed my bottom out towards him like he likes. The flogging got harder until even I was ready for it to stop. It was bone jarring and loud in my head. I felyt spinny and spacey from the pain and until I felt the crack of the cane I didn’t know he had stopped flogging me. This is where it changed for me a bit. I was barely on top of the flogging. Yet it is a tolerable non biting pain. I love being caned. it is my favorite and Richard knows this. Today after the first stroke I knew I couldn’t do it. I felt it again and again and he wasn’t even caning me hard, just taps really. But I felt them. I told him I couldn’t. I told him that I felt myself needing to slip away into my fog and was afraid to. I had no idea what time it was but knew myself well enough to know a lingering stay in sub space would make me miss my afternoon repsonsibilities.

He let me down and told me to kneel on the bed. He put me on my hands and knees. “No more pain.” he said. He put my hands behind my back and tied me to high ropes hidden somehwere high above the bed. He wrapped something hard around my neck..and it slowed my breathing and felt heavy. He leaned me forward so all my weight was on my arms that were pulled behind me. He told me to open my mouth. He said he was going to fuck my mouth I need only to open it for him. It wasn’t like I could move anyway…

He stood in front of me and held my head in his hands as he thrusts inside my mouth. Finally he paused and told me to stick my tongue out. He came on my tongue and in my mouth and told me not to swallow. I wasn’t allowed to swallow yet…he told me that he was going to make me cum and when I came I could swallow. I don’t remember cumming. I don’t remember him untying my or holding me against him. I do remember swallowing oddly enough.

I remember feeling like I was waking up. Feeling warm and safe and so happy by his side. If only it could stay like that. I was coming down…I was almost alert enough to start talking to him. Usually we have so much time together. A debriefing almost. Where I am allowed to come around in a safe place…feel his hands gentle on my body for as long as I need it. Sometimes we have laid there together for hours drifting in and out of each other. Today it was just getting up and getting dressed.

I found myself on the floor my clothes in my hands and I wasn’t sure what to do with them. I smiled inwardly wondering how I was going to function the rest of the day.

I really didn’t. It was a hard afternoon and an impossible night. Made even harder because I knew Richard was going home to someone else to deal with everything there.

I am the worst type of submissive. I am thinking I can’t do it anymore, that it is too hard, that it takes too much from me and leaves me with bad feelings. I haven’t slept. I am up I am down…I am spiraling out of control and do not have enough grounding to pull this back together on my own. I wonder if it is time to stop. I wonder if I will somehow lose it all, all the good feelings associated with my submission if I do not.

I felt broken last night, lost and emotional and sad. But most of all I just felt disconnected, pulled apart somehow as if I had been partially unassembled but not put back together.

pixie pie

A blog about learning to love and learning to let go- through love, lies and the invention of personalities to support both.

Category: restraints