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.

A cumslut awakes

Written 31 December, and blogged today due to being offline for a while.

I never used to really care about cum at all. True, there was a certain satisfaction in having a warm puddle of it sprayed onto my body from time to time, but the lust and joy in it was very much played up for the benefit of the guy involved. I would say all the "Mmmm"s and lick my lips, and moan at the idea of someone cumming on or in me, but my mind was usually elsewhere at that point, and all this acting was designed only to hasten the process and help the guy get off selfishly.

It amuses me now to notice how much a little semen can mean to me. I first noticed my attitude to it had changed during a threesome when Master chose to cum inside the other woman we were with. I felt unexpected, childish envy and a stubborn voice inside my head said "But I wanted it!" Fortunately, I was immediately told to "clean up", and so I was allowed Master’s cum after all, once I lapped up the drips and slurped it out of her.

That was the first time I realised how much of a privilege I regarded it to receive his body fluids. It actually makes me laugh to think it, but strangely, the same sticky mess that I’ve always pretended to admire from other men (while secretly thinking they glorify it much more themselves), really does provoke strong feelings in me when it is his. Master is the only man who can cum inside me, and each time he does, I feel a genuine thrill of pride and gratitude. After a night with him, I want to defer my shower, reluctant to wash away the last traces of it from between my lips. When he occasionally fucks me choosing not to cum, my joy and appreciation is tainted by slight disappointment, having been deprived of his satisfaction, and the proof of it dribbling out of me.

Traditionally, Taoists believed that a man’s semen contained his life force, and that when he came inside a woman, she could absorb that energy, sucking it from him. Is that why I crave my Master’s cum? Does some primitive part of me long to soak up small portions of his power? When I hear him gasp and know he is filling me with cum, if I focus on that thought, I do have a strange fantasy sense that I’m receiving something with magical properties. But my joy is not the perverse pleasure of having taken something from him, rather a feeling that it is an honour for him to have left a part of himself in my body. I thank him, meaning I am grateful for my own pleasure, but even more so for being part of his.