Mmm make it hurt

The other night Master and I finally got to christen the pool. Betty apparently noted this: today I found a waterproof book of aquatic sex positions by my bed. Amusing that the book was waterproof. As if somebody is going to keep it by the pool so they can pause in the middle of a fuck and say "Hang on, I'm just going to look up the instructions for this position..."

I'm glad we got to do it, even though it was probably too late at night for the neighbours to catch us. I really love sex in water. Probably for the same reason some wouldn't: it washes away the natural lubrication, and hopefully, usually, that hurts. For most women it washes it away, anyway. For me, the effect is sadly short-lived.

I'm just a really, really wet, horny slut. Master regularly marvels at it. He sometimes tells me to touch myself to show me how wet I am, and sometimes even I am surprised. I get wet enough for it to run down my legs. There have been times when I've been so wet that someone has fisted me and I haven't even noticed. Once, after a session of fully clothed foreplay, I had to borrow underwear and a pair of jeans because mine were soaked to the point that they were unwearable. So when Master fucked me in the pool, it wasn't long before the water made no difference and his cock was wet from one thing only: nadi juice. And he proved it to me by placing it in my mouth afterwards, and I tasted no chorline - just, well, me.

Funny then, that as someone with so much lubrication that it makes people wonder if I dehydrate, I get off on being fucked dry. An ex used to spend a long time holding my legs apart and blowing cold air on me to make me dry out, then force his way in hard, giving me about 3 seconds of delicious pain before I flooded again, then pull out and repeat.

The easier way for me to get that kind of pain, or at least close to it, is when Master fucks my ass, as he also did that night. Some men I can take with no problem at all, but he hurts, every time. It took a long while before he could fuck me anally without me screaming and trying to pull away. Now I usually manage with just loud groans and gasps, hold my breath, bite something if I can, and clench my fists... but I hold still, and then try to force myself to move with him. My struggle doesn't mean I don't enjoy it - on the contrary, I love crossing back and forth over that mental threshold between "no, stop" and "ooohh yeahh". And I love the way he ignores my pain and reminds me that my body is his property and he will treat it as he likes. And I love that raw, grinding friction that only comes with fucking a tight, dry hole.

I'm glad we got to try the pool before summer ended. Now I just hope the warm weather returns long enough to still get the chance to do the outdoor thing. I can almost hear his reply to that: "What makes you think I won't make you do it in the cold?"

Honesty

If I'm totally honest with myself, that whole last post was a load of BS.

Its all true, and relevant, but not the main thing bugging me at all.

The truth is, I'm just uncomfortable being so dependent on him. I'm looking for reasons why dependency is inappropriate, when really its just that I'm scared and I want an excuse to care a little less (as if thats an option).

My secret neediness has been showing, and it makes me fear driving him away. So I try and cover it up as quick as I can.

There. That was real.

Fucking patience!

I have the patience of a two-year-old sometimes. Well, a lot of the time. I've been carrying on a bit about missing Master and waiting to see him lately (and I don't just mean in this blog, I've been whingeing to him a lot, too.) The silly part is, I haven't really been seeing him much (if any) less than usual - its just that, he's recently been working less for a couple of months, and I kind of got used to spending more time with him than usual. Now going back to normal feels like a cruel deprivation.

Being aware that its all in my head doesn't make it any easier. As time goes by between meetings, I get more anxious over how long it will be before the next one. Its like a countdown to losing control. And when I reach desperation point, I get a little demanding. I know I'm getting near the edge of acceptable behaviour then. The naughty, I-want part of myself tries to push harder, and I really fight with myself to stop crossing over the line from persistent to insistent.

But I just want to see him. And touch him. And be with him. I miss him. And I love him. Not to mention that I'm so damned horny all the time. Fuck. Sometimes, I get angry and frustrated. Other times, I just get sad. Always, I am so grateful for every minute I get to be with him. Every morning I wake up and wonder if I will be lucky today.

What annoys me about the whole thing most of all, is the knowledge, deep down, that this is probably good for me. A while ago I asked, among other things, for help to think less selfishly, and I think this situation might provide that by sheer chance. What is the previous paragraph but a list of nagging "I-want"s? Its not about what I want. And right now thats just fine because I can't get what I want. If I can find a way to accept that, and wait patiently, I'll be doing much better. How to do that, though... thats another matter altogether...

Try anything twice

Its a simple but clever trick: get me horny and wet (no challenge so far), take me close to orgasm but don't let me reach it, and then give me a suggestion, and I will want to do it. Anything at all, even things that I'd find shocking or repulsive when I'm, say, doing my grocery shopping. I've lost count of how many times I've come home after seeing Master and found myself thinking I can't believe I said I wanted to do that - and not just that I would if I had to, but that I really want to. And the desire doesn't completely dissipate, either - things I'd initially file under please-don't-make-me, go to yes-please-let-me while I'm in 'the zone', and then after the high wears off, they end up somewhere around not-my-favourite-but-ok.

Take me there often enough, and the idea ends up permanently promoted to yes-please. I can think of a lot of things I would have been horrified at, or at least very cautious about, before I met Master, that are now, thanks to his manipulation, my most desired goals, or savoured among my favourite things to do. Things like lengthy asphyxiation, knife play, toilet play, and other things he prefers me not to talk about. I never would have done these things a year ago. And I'm not complaining - its great! One of the main things I was looking for when I met him was someone who could help me explore, and as much as possible eliminate, my limits. Its just turned out to be much more possible than I had anticipated.

I suspect I could write a book on "what subbing has taught me about life" already (and I am by no means notably experienced at it). One of the big themes would be that you really never know what you are capable of doing, and capable of enjoying. Even if you have tried it, there is nothing to say it wouldn't be a vastly different experience under new circumstances. Never rule anything out. Ever.

Held

I was woken by my son at 5.30 this morning, and after settling him and going back to bed, I was drifting towards sleep when I heard my phone buzz next to me. I knew only Master would sms me at that time of the morning, so I roused myself enough to read what it said: "Glad to see you are beginning to realise just how much I know you."

It was perfect timing. I was just awake enough to read it, then fall back asleep with a smile on my face and into a stunning dream about his hands, larger than life, not just touching me but going right through me and knowing me inside and out.

Now, today, I felt that wonderful, warm, confined, enslaved feeling again. I had to laugh at myself - the experience that brought it on wasn't even real, lol...

But in a way, it is real - he knows me so intimately that I have trouble believing it possible. Right from the beginning, he has seemed to understand me completely. A part of me just can't accept that - surely its all in my mind? But time and again, he proves its not. It doesn't make sense, but its true.

Its also true that I don't like people to know me too well. I think I've written this before, but even my closest friends are around for years before I let them know much about me at all. I like to keep me to myself. Why? Control, I guess. Less risk. Less chance of showing weakness. But with Master, I am ultimately vulnerable, and it feels good. Scary, but good. And it doesn't make me weak, it makes me strong.

Strength

I had a job interview today, and just prior, everything that could go wrong went absolutely wrong. I reached the interview location with 10 minutes to spare, but with my stress levels at a maximum. I wasn't ready for this. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down. I knew I had to think positive, confident thoughts, and fast. What came instinctively to mind was a memory - Master's voice, after crossing a boundary with me, taking me past an unwanted limit: "Look what you just did. If you can do that, you can do anything, babe." It came to me so clear and real for a second I was convinced I could smell him. I can't even remember now what it was he said that in reference to, but I remember him saying it like he is still there lying on me, holding my gaze and repeating "You can do anything."

At the time I didn't think it sunk in the way it should have - a part of my mind resisted the words and I struggled to accept them. But today they came to the front of my mind like a natural certainty, and I believed it. If I can give myself to him, relinquishing my body, pledging him my mind, promising him my heart and all my love, freely offering the ability to harm me, literally, happily putting my life in his hands... then what else in life is there to be afraid of?

Some things I think I understand, then one day they really do fall into place, and I realise that all that time I thought I knew, I really had no idea at all. I thought I knew that submission gives me strength. But today, for the first time, I know that belonging to Master... GIVES ME STRENGTH.

Happy Day

I've always had a thing against Valentine's Day (yes, I'm another one of them). No, its not because of loneliness, but more because, despite my attachments to washing powder, I'm just not into romance. I'm more comfortable with this time of year when I'm single: all the defiant single women get out and have a few drinks, making it a good time to get laid. Its also a nice chance to send flowers to my friends and let them know they are special. This morning, for example, I left a velvet rose on the front doorstep for Betty to find when she went out (shhh! don't tell her it was me...;))

To me, valentines day is really best spent celebrating friendship. Maybe I prefer that because the unexpectedness makes it seem more genuine... or, maybe it really is just because I'm such a cynical old commitment-phobe.

Whatever it is, here's a thought I'd like to share on this V-day:

nadi's anti-valentine links:

Anti-Valentine's cards (the source of the image above)

Sexy Greg (note: sarcasm)

Condom Day (thats more like it - let's all get shagged)

The Velocity of Gary (A movie I personally enjoyed, but had terrible reviews, about a slutty bi guy named Valentino, his boyfriend, and his girlfriend - played by the very sexy Salma Hayek).

Need

Like I wrote a couple of days ago, lately I have been needing him - craving him. Its been a very emotional ride in my life lately and the constant thought in the back of my mind has been that seeing him will make it all better. So its been a frustrating week, with all the shit of daily life constantly getting in the way of me seeing Master, and each time it does, I've felt weaker and lonelier.

Last night was the breaking point. I probably would have taken no for an answer, to be a good girl, but I really didn't want to, and I would have been a very unstable girl. I waited at home, naked, as he would want to find me, praying to who-knows-what that he would come. As it got later I got more anxious, knowing that each hour meant less chance I would get what I needed tonight. I hesitated to sms him and ask, afraid of hearing that the answer was no. Eventually I had to. The answer wasn't no, but it wasn't positive. I started crying. I fucking needed him. I sent him another message saying so, begging him to see me. It was very late, and I knew my chances were slim. He suggested I make the drive. I hesitated... Betty was asleep, and if I left the house, and my son woke up, and she didn't know I wasn't here, surely she would be furious...

Fuck it. I grabbed my phone and my keys and walked out the door. Did I mention I was naked? Yes, still. Putting on clothes seemed a trivial waste of precious time, and my nudity felt right - to drive over and walk up to his front door, presenting myself to him bare and vulnerable, seemed perfect for my state of mind.

Driving over, my confidence waned a little as I wondered if other drivers would notice. I thought about the jacket in my back seat, wondered if I should put it on. But I gave myself a pep-talk instead - it was late, and dark, and who the hell would see? .... try a dozen council workers on late-night roadworks on the highway, that's who. I crawled along in slow traffic with them all standing around within spitting distance from my car, cringing under the gigantic floodlights. But if any of them noticed, they didn't show a sign.

It was probably a good thing, going through the roadworks actually, it gave me something else to focus on for a few moments besides my overwhelming need to be with Master. After I passed them, I felt calmer, a tiny bit more ok. I got to his house and jumped out, walking straight to his front door, and rang the bell. He stood there looking at me, through his security door, leaving me standing there for a few moments, naked in the night air. I felt ready to try and claw my way through the door, not to get inside, but to touch him. Finally he opened it, and I could, but I struggled with self-control - all I wanted was to throw myself on him, and cling to him. He allowed me a brief cuddle before telling me to go to my corner and wait while he finished what he had been doing.

I had to force myself to do that, and it was the hardest wait I've ever had for him. I'd been needing him and waiting for him for days, and now finally he was in the next room, and I had to wait some more. I started to cry again. I toyed with the idea of begging him to let me sit with him instead of in my usual corner. I tried to distract myself by staring at the artwork on his walls. I tried to be quiet, but he could probably hear me, and he let me wait.

I feel a need to interrupt myself here and point out that Master is not a cold man. He is calm, and has a great deal of self control (not to mention nadi-control, lol). He knew how much I needed him, but still he let me wait, and it was right that he did so. He is not callous or indifferent to my feelings, but he doesn't indulge them indiscriminantly either. He owns me, and its up to him what he gives me and when I am allowed it. If I was able to demand what I wanted through emotional displays like this one, I would lose respect for him. So I needed to be with him, but I also needed to wait.

So I sat there crying and waiting for him, feeling more than a little ashamed and stupid for the whole thing. He wouldn't want me like this, I thought, he wanted a stable, rational slavegirl, not one who would lose the plot from missing him. Was I really worth it for him, with all this drama? Finally he came into the room and sat in the chair next to me. This time I didn't have to restrain myself from throwing myself at him - I couldn't even look at him until he ordered me to. Then he guided me close to him, and finally let me hug him with my head on his chest...

What do people say when they see someone in tears? They say something reassuring, tell them its all ok, or going to be, or ask why, make you talk about it to feel better - in other words, they want you to stop crying. But not Master. He held me to him, and said "Cry." And I did, and I felt such gratitude and relief, because he didn't reject the way I felt. I give him everything, and he gives me acceptance. Thats even better than love.

Reverie

I was just changing my bedsheets and feeling extremely horny (which is nothing unusual - feeling horny I mean, it is a little too unusual for me to change my sheets if I'm completely honest...) when I heard a noise at the back door. It was just a rattle from the wind, my dog would have tipped me off if it was something more, but instantly my imagination grasped the idea and came up with a far more interesting explanation...

...there was a man at my back door, he'd just let himself into my house, and was now walking calmly through the kitchen heading for the bedroom, where I was sitting on the floor. He would kneel behind me and grab hold of my hair, pulling my head back before I'd even heard him there. He would whisper to me that my Master had sent him there with permission to use me, and I should be a good girl and make sure he was satisfied or Master would not be pleased. He would ask if I understood and I would say I did, then he would let go of my hair and I would turn around and see the face of a stranger whose name I would never know. He would stand up and present his cock for me to suck, and I would do so obediently. He would stand still and I would know he was evaluating my effort, so I would try hard to please him and he would say "good girl." Then he would take control and hold my head close to him, pushing into my throat and thrusting faster, fucking my face with no reaction to my gasps and gags. Then he would grab my hair and throw me down on all fours and lift my skirt, pull my underwear aside and (with a condom that magically appears, as they do in fantasies, lol) push himself into me hard. I would moan in pleasure, then suddenly realise that I didn't have permission to orgasm... my moans would turn to dread and longing as I reaslied that I would be used to this man's satisfaction and be denied my own. He would fuck me so fast I would struggle not to cum and groan at the effort of resisting something so tantalising and so easy to reach. He would thankfully keep it short, pulling my hips to him as he came, and leaving me frustrated, my wet cunt feeling like a vast empty vacuum needing to be filled. I would kneel there, gasping, while my visitor stood, straightened himself, and then bend down to tell me he would be sure to tell Master I had behaved, giving me a teasing tap on my swollen lips that would send a shudder through my body before he leaves....

....yes, that was what the noise at my back door had really been, and any second now I would feel that hand on my hair, and all that would begin, I convinced myself as I lay on my floor and shook with orgasm - at the thought of not orgasming, no less... lol...

The other kind of minutia

I fucking love him! I want to laugh and scream about it tonight... maybe its the 3 beers I've had...

... or maybe its the past week of missing and absolutely craving him, feeling crushed with the weight of wanting nothing but my Master, feeling pain and hurt and emptiness, longing not for the sex, or the s&m, or the power, but just to be with him... wrapping my arms around my body for some kind of comfort, wishing they were his arms... waiting for his arms...

I am such a love-cynic I want to laugh at how ridiculous I am. Allow me to demonstrate:

A while ago, through circumstances I won't bother detailing, Master gave me a box of washing powder from his house. Suddenly, the rate at which I washed my clothes seemed to increase. I confessed to Betty one night: the truth was, I was getting pleasure from the fact that my clothes now smelled like his. She said, "Honey, thats called romance." Tonight, I put some washing on and was disappointed to find the box empty - nothing left but the usual brand I buy. So disappointed I almost didn't even wash my clothes. Fuck, I've become a laundry romantic! How the hell did that happen??

Sometimes I genuinely ask myself that. Sometimes I wonder, how did someone do this to me? I was so determined not to be this way, not to have someone on my mind like this, constantly wanting to tell them "I love you, I miss you, I love you, I miss you..." That's not me, goddammit!
But it is me. It's absolutely me to surrender, and to serve - with my heart, as well as everything else. And of course, the credit is his, for recognising that, and for being strong enough, and patient enough, and wise enough to draw that out of me.

Expecting to give

Twice now I have been asked - once by Sir J, now also by Betty - "Does he love you?" The first time my answer surprised me, and I wondered if it was just the moment. But last night, the second time I was asked, the answer was still the same. First of all, I don't know. Second, and more importantly, I don't need to know.

There is no reason why he should love me, and, if he did, there is no reason why he should tell me, or why I would ask. I love him, and that means he owns me more completely. I don't need him to love me in return, I only need him to accept my love - and me.

Humans like to think that when we love someone, we need to possess them. The truth is that loving someone means that they possess us. For the first time in my life I'm really able to embrace that - to say I will continue to love you, Sir, without expecting anything in return. I guess thats what "unconditional" means.