Dance with the devil... :)

Its been one of those porn-watching days today - loads of it! I'm a girl who likes to store it for a rainy day instead of checking it out immediately. I just stash it away for months and then, when I'm suddenly feeling up for it, I'll go a whole day where all I do is go through and see what treasures I've accumulated. And there is some pretty nasty stuff that Master will just love :) But thats not the subject of this post.....

Just now I was watching this clip that started with no beating around the bush (and I love beating bush, but its not that kind of vid...) a guy on his back, with a woman riding him furiously. You could see she was enjoying herself. Then a second guy came up so she could suck his cock, and for a moment everyone was enjoying themselves. But then I found myself thinking... hang on a minute, she's not putting much effort in there.... she's barely trying to suck him at all.... doesn't she want to make sure he enjoys himself....? oh my god, now she's stopped sucking altogether while she orgasms - she's putting her pleasure ahead of his! ....why doesn't he slap her and shove that cock back into her mouth and remind her what she is there for????

And thats when I thought, um.... just a sec, that isn't me.... some women are meant to fuck for their own enjoyment, aren't they? Oops...

Sometimes I still surprise myself with how much I've changed, and it makes me smile. Concepts that seemed alien to me a year ago now seem totally natural - to the point where, I see a woman getting fucked, and my assumption is that she is being used for the man's pleasure and may or may not be allowed her own. Or the other day, I said to Sir, that I felt angry at the idea of anyone suggesting they would like to use me without his consent. Not being free to fuck alone was something I was still learning to accept when I started this blog, and now I don't even question that I am his property - and it makes me mad when someone else dares think otherwise.

Master's control over me is even evident in my dreams. I am a slut by anyone's definition, and I have a lot of fantasies and dreams. Now I don't have either without somehow incorporating Master's permission into it. There were a few times when I woke up from a sex dream in a panic, thinking I'd just disobeyed him, before I realised it wasn't real. And the other night, I couldn't even participate in my own dream! I just watched other people doing it, thinking, I have to wait for permission...

I used to think training was what happened in between play - a specified time and place where a sub is explicitly taught to please their owner. Now I know that's how crappy training is done. Quality training is done all the time, during every interaction, even simple conversation. You don't even realise its happening, except in hindsight. Thats the learning that sinks in, and changes who you are.

Wow, I am lucky :)

Dark shades

Shall I share a dark truth? Something that gives me a knot in my stomach and makes me uncomfortably lower my eyes?

I make it no secret here that I have violent fantasies. I beg Master to hurt me, and long for him to bruise my body, make me bleed. I dream of being attacked, raped, abused and humiliated. I used to console myself with the thought that if that ever happened, if I was violated without consent, I wouldn't really want it. But when I'm honest, I doubt that it is true. If someone tried to rape me, I think I would fight, not to save myself, but to protect Master's property. If it weren't for him, I believe I would - shamefully - submit and enjoy it.

Is that offensive? It is to me. I don't believe anyone should harm others unless they want it, and the idea of encouraging people who want to perpetrate violence horrifies me. But here I am, admitting that I want to be the subject of that violence. Not in the sense of the relatively common rape "fantasy" many women are said to have, but not actually want. No, I am convinced I genuinely want it. And it doesn't end there....

I love movies that show sexual violence. The kind where the plot requires being horrified at what the "villian" does to others, and wanting justice to prevail... I just want to see the nasty scene again. I want to see the woman get taken, hurt, abused. I want to be her, made helpless, screaming, powerless. I want more. Those scenes make me wet. Irreversible. 8mm. The General's Daughter. But that's just fiction....

The really dark bit, the part that makes me feel dirty in the wrong way, is that I have the same reaction to these acts when they occur in real life. I won't mention specific stories, although many come to mind, because there must be limits to what I can write here and get away with, lol. But when I hear in the media about acts of sexual violence that have really happened, especially locally, my body reacts. I become aroused. I don't mean to enjoy someone's suffering, but I find myself thinking, what would it be like to be them.... with someone doing those things... those degrading, humiliating things.... Yes, I know that they didn't enjoy it, that it was most likely a terrifying, traumatic experience. I'm not glad that they were harmed in such an awful way. But I can't help thinking, what if..... what if it was me.... if only it was....

Shameful, yes? Sick. Insensitive. Disgraceful. For Master, I'm sure it won't be at all surprising. He has known all my dark secrets since the day he met me. He read them in my eyes - the first person who was not afraid to see. Try feeling these things, thinking these awful things, being so ashamed, hiding from yourself, and then meeting someone who knows it all without it being said, and smiles. That person will own you. When someone accepts in you what you find unacceptable, you become more vulnerable than any judgement could ever make you. You cannot not love them.

Slut's advocate

You know what sucks? Men who feel that they have to please and impress a woman during sex. These guys put so much effort into their suave moves, spend hours on foreplay if you let them, and lick pussy using robotic, over-practiced strokes that go on forever in between murmurs of "Mmmm, yum.." Its obvious from the look of concentration on their face that their main motive is the ego-trip from believing they are a good lover. And you have no choice but to let them think they are, otherwise they only try harder!

You can see the type on online sex and dating sites - they are the ones who go on about supplying sensual massage, and how they just love to give oral. They say things like "I know how to please a woman" and make promises about the number of orgasms the lucky lady will reach.

As a slut who likes to be used, I find this only slightly more entertaining than reality TV - they are both poses, but at least if its sex I have the expectation that I'll get a cock into me at some point. If I can stay awake. Ok, I'd better settle down now before I get just too darn mean....

I blame other women for creating these dull guys. Women who whine and complain about their man not trying hard enough, not doing enough foreplay, expecting to just cram it in and fuck repetitively, using them as though they don't have their own needs. These women who are so common that it becomes a stereotype, and then people joke about it and men end up with TV, movies, radio, advertising, everything telling them from all angles that women need a complicated routine with a ten page list of techniques, and you'd better please them or you are some kind of lazy chauvinist.

Sigh. Many women would hate what I am about to say, but they can stick it. Not enough men are comfortable enough to just fuck anymore. Take your massage oils and edible body paint elsewhere - I just wanna be used, dammit! I don't want to feel like any man is putting effort in for my pleasure. I want him to just bend me over and please himself. Pure selfish animal fucking.... Mmmm........ That is hot sex.

Of course, in my sex life I don't get to be discerning. Master chooses who fucks me and how they may do it, and that means occasionally I wind up acting with someone who, despite it being obvious that I'm just a slut, feels that he needs to try hard to impress me with his handed-down techniques. And that's ok, because I am a slave. I am still being used, even when its more about their ego than their erection.

But sometimes I really want to say it: guys, if you want a soft, loving, sensual woman, then by all means go the slow, gentle option. But if you want a slut - for fuck's sake, treat a woman like a slut!

Come as you are

I can't believe I didn't blog about this – it's such an achievement! I guess at the time my focus was more on other things: Master was about to go away for a week, and his last night with me before he left I was feeling typically emotional. I was anticipating the agony of missing him, and sad because he was so busy with preparations he had little time for me that night. OK, I'll be honest – I'd tried not to get my hopes up, but I kept thinking it would be the perfect time for him to mark me before he went – all that healing time with no-one to be offended by it. I knew it was unlikely, as he had so much to do, but a part of me was still childishly disappointed.

He joined me in bed, and was so tired, he didn't even make a move to use me. That made me even sadder, until I gained the courage to tell him how I felt. Once it was out, I could relax more, and I reminded myself of the good points: yes, he was busy and tired on his last night before his trip, but what an honour that he still wanted me there with him, not to be used, but to serve him and cuddle up to him at night. I started to feel much happier just to be allowed to be near him. I wanted to express that, so I started gently touching him. He became aroused, so I thought, why not? And quietly asked permission to suck his cock. He allowed me to, and I savoured it – my last taste of my Master for a week to come. I wanted it ingrained in my mind. I tried to put love into it, and I found myself hoping he wouldn't fuck me – just cum down my throat and leave my cunt aching for his return.

That's when I made my big achievement. I was totally absorbed in him, sucking, and I hadn't been touched all night. And he ordered me to come. I thought for half a second, "can I?" and then tightened my muscles, and I did. A few moments later he ordered it a second time, and I succeeded even easier, and orgasmed even stronger. No stimulation except the desire to please him, and the order given. I was so focussed, I barely recognised what I'd done.

He did fuck me, by the way, and then half-smiled and said "You're a spoiled bitch, aren't you?" :)

The first time I met my Master, he told me I would learn to give him control over my pleasure. He allowed me to orgasm freely that day, but was very clear about future meetings: "After today, you will not come without permission in my presence again." And although sometimes its been a struggle, I never have. But the other side to that promise was something that seemed daunting to me – he said he would train me to orgasm on his command, not just when being used, but from pain, and eventually, only from his order.

I wasn't sure it was possible, but I hoped not to disappoint him. The first orgasm I successfully had from pain alone was incredibly intense and surprisingly easy to attain. But that was heavy stimulation, and I still wasn't sure I could come from none at all. Then, two weeks ago, I did. Simply from the sound of Master telling me to.

The next day, I was driving and feeling very horny. I remembered his voice demanding me to "come" and to my surprise, I did, alone in my car, instantly. I have again, sitting here writing this, just to test myself. Success. My body has been trained – all it takes is his order, or merely imagining his order, and I can orgasm immediately. He owns my orgasms.

Let me be honest, the sensation itself is no replacement for being filled and fucked. But being able to do this is its own kind of bliss – the pleasure and pride in knowing that it is not just my conscious behaviour that he has taken control of, but some of my most basic, automatic physiological responses. Its like my body knows it belongs to him.

Hooked

I've long hated the idea of being dependent on anyone. It probably sounds silly here, but I'm actually a very independent, in-control kind of person. Perhaps thats what makes giving up control so powerful for me. Or maybe thats just nonsense, and it would be a powerful experience for anyone. But anyway...

I asked myself tonight, to imagine a scenario. Imagine I'm not involved in D/s at all. I'm happily attached in a totally vanilla relationship. (Already a stretch...) My guy goes away for a week, to the other side of the country, for work-related stuff. And on the night he is due to return, I get a message from him saying sorry, but he won't be back til the following morning. How do I feel? Pretty annoyed, probably pretty sexually frustrated. But I'd deal with it.

Master has been away for a week and I got exactly that message tonight. How do I feel? Fucked up. I cried. I wanted to scream and throw myself on the floor and kick my legs. I sulked. I feel like a child.

A long time ago, before I could say the 'L' word out loud, I remember Master asking me "How do you feel about me?" I said as much as I could at the time: "I need you, Sir." It was an easy answer, but very truthful. I have needed him since the beginning.

So what is it that has brought about this dependence? Is it a natural consequence of intense power exchange? Or is this something more specific to the way Master has shaped my attachment to him? Or is it just something characteristic of me? I worry about this sometimes. It may just be my own discomfort with it, but I worry that he finds my dependence an inconvenience. Other times I wonder if maybe he likes it. And sometimes I think maybe he likes it to be there, but unexpressed until the right time.

If you love someone, and the object of your love has immense power over you, and you, none over them, perhaps that will always create a dependence on them. The powerless seeks the beloved powerful... seeks their approval, their kindness... or their meanness.... anything of them. Anything to know they matter, that their existence has some effect on the powerful other... yes, I can see how it might be unavoidable.

Dependence makes me shift uncomfortably in my seat. I don't want to need. Anything. But he makes me constantly aware that I do. I fucking do. I console myself with a reminder that it is just another way he owns me. That he owns whatever it is inside that seeks to be fulfilled by my need for him.

I barely even care about how well I am expressing this tonight... except that it is for him. It has been a long week without him, and I feel drained knowing that he was going to be here within a couple of hours, and now..... who knows when. Thats the worst. The not knowing when. All the times I go nuts not seeing him, compared to the times I cope, the difference is in knowing when. If I at least know what hour to look forward to, I can hang in there without regressing to nadi the child.

It has been lonely looking after his house for him, but also a comfort to be surrounded by 'him' in so many ways. And the comfort of doing things I know would please him, if he were here to see them. It is an honour that he entrusted me with such a responsibility. But now I'm past it. I just want him back. I want to kiss him. I want to smell him, touch the soft skin on his face. I want to hear him breathe. I want to feel his arms holding me, his weight on top of me. I want to tell him I love him, and that I've given him my life.

I'm delaying going to bed, it will feel empty. But maybe I'll dream about him, and maybe when I wake up, he won't be far away....