That fresh feeling

Last night, Master arranged for me to have the honour of deflowering a (male) virgin. I had done that before, but the other times had been rushed, or drunken, or just unforeseen. This was the first time I'd had the opportunity of consciously, and deliberately, taking someone through a totally new experience they would not forget..... creating sex for them. So rare to have the opportunity to knowingly make such a mark on someones life.

One might think I'm overdoing this, romanticising what was overtly a contrived act. It's not the culturally accepted 'ideal' way to lose your virginity - meeting a man online who agrees to allow his woman to take it. But to my mind, this guy was far better off skipping the awkward fumbles and anxieties of being with an equally inexperienced girl he feels pressure to impress. I was delighted to help him go straight to wanton world of exploring the possibilities of sex. Don't we all take delight in the pleasure of introducing someone to something we truly love?

It takes me back to when I lost my virginity - all four times. The first was after realising I was not actually gay, after all, and promptly found myself a boy I was attracted to, instigated the required romance, and invited him to my room. We toyed and teased and experimented with things that were new to us both.... and when it came to the final act we knew we were heading for, nerves got the better of him. But for me, I felt my innocence was satisfyingly lost.

The second time, I was hanging out with a friend and somehow, we decided it would be fun to 'do it'. We were in another friend's back yard on her trampoline, and we were playful, swinging between lustful seriousness and stifled laughter at our own lack of prowess. Finally, after uncounted false starts, he pushed his cock just inside me...... then jumped up, hissing, someones coming! .....our expedition ended with us frantically getting dressed and trying to hide our smiles.

Shortly after came the would-be gang bang that still fills my fantasies from time to time. I don't count that as one of The Four, but it led directly to the third. The male friends I'd been with that night all apologised to me, but there was one who did it with a glare at the others. That look said to me, that he was not sincere in his apology, that he was a victim of peer pressure who'd wanted to fuck as much as I did. That new year's eve, I rewarded him for his lust by riding him fervidly in the spa - twice. That was also the breaking of my exhibitionist virginity - my hot male friend omitted to tell me when someone approached, letting them stand behind me until a noise caught my attention and I turned to see our voyeur making an exit. I realised he'd let me unknowingly put on a show, and I was exhilarated.

Finally, the fourth time my virginity was lost, to put it daintily, I bled on the sheets. I was seventeen, a girl, and he was twenty-five, a man - and big. He was not like the timid boys I was used to - he had his way with me, and for the first time, I felt I'd been fucked.

These are the experiences I took with me last night, shaping one of life's most memorable events for a nervous young man. I wanted not to be his teacher, but his encouraging helper - someone to travel his own desires with. I tried to be gentle and dirty, kind but also a nasty slut - equal parts caregiver and whore. Master helped with the latter, of course - and provided our lucky visitor with some experiences that many first-timers would be shocked by ;)

Yes, it was a memorable experience - for nadi , too :)

Can the unowned choose their owner?

"Hi my supreme Master. Please Sir may i obediently submit myself mind body and soul into your complete control ownership as your domain and as your slave today. I will completely submit to any and every thing you have in mind to force on me. As your possession I have no choice."

What is that?
What makes someone think they have the ability to write a message like that to my Master?
And why does it bother me so much?
He shares that with me and I am confounded. I want to share in his pleasure, but I also feel the bitter need to defend....... something...

It's not like jealously, so much as territoriality... which sounds awful - Master is not 'mine'. But statements like that feel like someone stepping in on my ground, with little or no effort, and that offends me. Most of the time these are messages from people who barely know Master, or haven't met him at all.... So my the first question in my mind is always, don't they realise we take this seriously? That when I say I belong to him, its actually true and not just something that applies when I'm horny??

When I met Master, I would never have said those things to him - and not just because I was scared of committment, lol. How disrespectful it would have felt, to just 'decide' that I was 'his', without him making that decision! And to suggest, by implication, that I wouldn't take it seriously if it was one day really so.

He spoke to me recently about how far I have come - from a naughty, risk-taking slut kneeling in my living room the first time we met.... trained in less than two years to become completely his. To take all the pain, humiliation, body fluids, and control that he wishes.... and still be an extreme slut, under his guidelines.

I have been noticing lately that I almost seem to have lost a part of my sluttiness - the part that is always wanting more. I was with him last night and I noted that after a week without cock I was coping far better than normal. He said that was good, that it meant I was changing my focus... and I realised he was right. These days, when he talks of playing with this person or that, I just don't react with the same enthusiasm I used to - not because I'm not interested, but because I'm not constantly wanting more. He is more important.

It's taken a lot for me to get this far. I've worked hard for him, and he has put a lot of work and effort into me. All the pain, the tears, the hard learning, the love, the submission of one thing after another..... it has been worth it. I have earnt my place... and I continue to earn it. No wonder its such an insult when a stranger sees fit to tell my Master they are his.



PS. That's 100 blog posts, today :)

Pain slut!

One thing I love about Master, is that he knows how not to let life win over play. It wasn't easy to find the opportunity for my flogging today, and we almost ran out of time. I knelt beside him, becoming anxious that I would miss out on the pain I'd been so badly looking forward to. But he was calm and confident, and would not be rushed. And I know he was right to take his time - a hurried flogging would be worse than none at all.

He selected his instruments and placed them on the bed, then told me to lie face down. He secured rope to the bedposts, and I watched while he tied the first end to my right wrist, already drifting towards a blissful daze. I think I have mentioned before that I have a rope fetish... *smile*... The sight and sensation of him wrapping the binding around my wrist removed all concerns with the outside world for me, erased in the thought of rope.... mmmm..... I will have to blog more about rope some other time :)

After tying both my wrists, he used leather cuffs to attach my ankles to a spreader. I do love his spreader. He fastens my feet and already I feel open, and vulnerable. But then he makes an adjustment, and the bar lengthens, forcing my feet even further apart... just far enough so that I feel my lips part and the cool air between them. It's one thing to have your legs secured open, but another, more erotic experience altogether to have them secured, and then opened, having already become helpless.

I love the way he will secure me, then walk away. He is silent at those times, and all I am aware of, face down on the bed, are soft, busy sounds. I hear his footsteps back and forth, a drawer opening and closing, a quiet rustling... just enough so that I know he is there, but not enough to tell whether he is preparing to do something to me, or if I am simply being ignored. Both options are arousing. Of course, this time I knew something would come before too long. He told me to raise my head, and firmly stuck two layers of heavy tape over my mouth, ready to begin.

He started with the leather paddle - and for me, a paddle is the hardest pain to take. He stroked my cheeks with the fur-covered side first, letting me anticipate the hard stroke I was about to feel. I am used to him building up the sensuality of it before getting started on the real pain. But today he simply went about covering my ass with a shade that would satisfy him. I started squirming and yelling against the tape quickly, but he didn't pause - he was methodical. And I felt deeply that this was because it is his body he was hurting, and he intended simply to extract the reaction he wanted from its skin.

It feels freeing to know that. If there is an audience watching me be flogged, I feel an obligation to exercise self-control over my reactions, to take as much as I can, and that gives a sense of pride. But alone, just Master and I, my hands and feet secured and my voice suitably muffled, there is no need to control myself to please him - I am already controlled. I will take as much as he chooses to give me - what other option do I have? All power, even to beg him to stop, is taken from me.

When my skin was raw, so that when he ran a hand over it I could feel some of it had been stripped away, he switched to the flogger. What is usually a soft, warm thud now felt like a sharp, hot sting and I loved it. But before I got too comfortable he used the cane. I don't know what it is that makes a cane feel so good when I'm bent over, with my skin taught, and so agonising when I'm stretched out flat, face down. But I screamed.

I always feel unsure about making so much noise. So many seem to find it a sign of a better sub, to be silent and take the pain... perhaps because screaming is assumed to mean wanting it to stop. For me, the experience is all the more intense and intoxicating if I can let out a sound and express how it feels. It doesn't mean I don't enjoy the agony - I am quite likely to scream and even try to escape the blows, then still beg Master for more. Pain always comes with ambivalence, and to release it in sound is like letting go of my demons.

So today, I was grateful for the tape over my mouth, so that I could scream... and grateful for the ropes around my wrists and the cuffs around my ankles so that I could struggle, and know that Master would continue anyway, until he was satisfied. At one point he climbed over me and pushed his cock inside me, and I melted, both with the pleasure of feeling him there, and also of knowing that, despite him already having fucked me earlier, he was thoroughly enjoying doing this to me. Several times he ordered me to cum while he hurt me, and I did. Several more times he paused to photograph his handiwork. And at the end, while tears rolled down my face and I panted through my nose, he rubbed oil on my ass, and then let me lie there shaking and feeling the heat radiating from my cheeks... so relaxed, and feeling so beautiful...

I had asked him, when I had thought we had more time, to do my back, tits, cunt and legs just as hard. He asked me afterwards how I felt about that now. I hesitated, but then he suggested, "A little ambitious?" and I suddenly felt a surge of determination. If we'd had the whole afternoon, at that moment I would have begged him to do it all. Is that too much pride, for a slave? Perhaps I need it beaten out of me ;)

Love and cake

I don't know if its something in the stars, something about the end of the year approaching, or just chance... but it seems like everyone I know is having a crisis in some way or another lately. Death, separation, reassessment, breakdown.... but mainly the stuff that's far too complicated to mention. These are times when you find yourself deep in shit, like it or not - and the only options are drown in it or swim in it.

Master has had quite a share of it lately, and while it would be inappropriate for me to give details, it takes its toll. Without diminishment, I feel for him - as a small, helpless animal feels for her owner who may be powerful, but not invulnerable. When Master suffers stress, it feels like the only thing I can offer is my loyalty - so having been near him for the last two nights has been the simplest of blessings. I don't know if it helps him, but being able to give him something that he wants makes me feel a little less powerless against his strain.

I have been feeling the pressure, too - but I've also never felt so looked after. Following the surrender I made the other week, I was unsteady. But telling Master my worries, everything became calm and clear... my fears disintegrated into trust. There is nothing at all like being with someone who truly understands you... enough to feel comfort in the presence of your darkest thoughts.

And today, I was having a bad day at work. One of the worst. And just as I was wishing I'd stayed at home, a card arrived, from my beautiful Sista, and her Max, brightening my day. Making me feel lucky, amongst the shit.

A welcome gift

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Nothing else to give

Have you ever woken from a dream so real and so frightening that the experience of it floats with you, confusing your reality for the whole day? Have you ever had that feeling, and realised that it wasn't a dream?

I barely know how to explain the intense evening with Master last night. I feel like my whole world has changed - and yet, I also know there is nothing new here. Master has owned me so completely for some time now, that I can promise myself to him for the rest of my life and it doesn't really matter - he can take that if he wants it, anyway.

But after the words we spoke last night I feel that - finally - everything has been handed over to him. My only choices are the ones he allows me, and my only task is to please him.... and please him..... indefinitely....

He rewarded me with some magical words: you are doing well; and more importantly: I am proud of you. Followed by the most fulfilling kiss.

Today I keep finding myself sinking into a strange reverie, going forward in my mind, and trying almost to rehearse what "forever" would be like. I can't distinguish between my desire and my fear - but I do know, that it feels good to know I may never leave him. Its like that time so long ago that I gave up my freedom and grieved.... I feel simultaneously so fearful and secure, both safe and unsafe. The difference is, this time I am so much stronger - strong enough to face what my commitment to him really means. I hope I can prove to him - and myself - that I'm strong enough to live it.