A snapshot of blessings...

I love lying in bed in the mornings and feeling a hand grab my hip, and a cock push its way into me without any lead-up. I love knowing that my Master can use his cunt whenever he wants to. I love that even more now that I may not use it when I want to.

I've been having more and more sexual dreams lately - and all focus on being owned, denied freedom. In one Master carved his initials into my flesh with a knife while I lay face down, quivering, my hands tied and his knee on my hair. In another, he owned a strip club and put me to work as a slave - while the other girls wore skimpy costumes, I was naked except for a collar and wrist cuffs, chained so that I was unable to reach my hands below my waist. Ranked below the other staff, the 'rules' did not apply to me, and I was free to be touched, teased, and played with in whatever way people liked.... but I was not permitted to orgasm.

It now feels amazing when Master is fucking me and he tells me to touch myself. I jump at the chance to feel that soft wetness that I can't take for granted anymore... and the scent on my fingers afterwards...... a rare delicacy indeed.

His cock is taking on a new personality for me now. It has become the foremost bearer of my pleasure and something I long even more to please. I find myself gazing at it openly and with admiration. After it has emptied into me, I don't want it to go away. I find myself fantasising about ways to keep Master's cock inside me forever, and it almost seems that I can't feel content any other way.

I'm feeling far too horny to string these things together fluently today.... just some thoughts on my mind.... things I am grateful for...

PS. I have written an online Slut Test.... enjoy if you dare

Evolutionary wank

Masturbation has been a major pleasure for almost my whole life. I was an early starter, playing every night in bed as a child. Long before I was old enough to orgasm, I'd bring myself to a magical brink of something... and sometimes manage to slip over it into a sudden sense of satisfaction and contentment, sending me peacefully off to sleep...

No wonder, then, that for me, playing with myself is about far more than just getting off. It is a comfort, a release of endorphins, a way of decreasing anxiety and increasing wellbeing. I use it to de-stress and unwind, to cure insomnia, to wake myself up, as a motivator, and as a relaxation technique. If I don't get to play for a while, emotional stress accumulates in my body as sexual tension.

It has been quite some time now since Master took away the freedom to touch myself and made it an occasional privilege... and honestly, I'm surprised at how well I've coped. It has probably been good for me, not just for my training, but also for life - I'm being forced to find alternative, more 'traditional' ways of letting off excess energy.

But sometimes, it is so hard to bear. Like yesterday. Yesterday, I spent hours quivering on the edge of orgasm. When I sat I found myself tilting my pelvis and rocking back and forth against the chair. I compulsively pinched the skin around my pubic area, clenching my thighs, the closest I could come to touching my pussy without feeling I was being disobedient. Peeing becomes an intense experience at times like these, the stimulation of the warm fluid followed by the paper makes me twitch.... almost enough to tempt me to orgasm.... but I don't dare.

Does that even sound believable, that I wouldn't give in?

When I first became my Master's exclusive property, I struggled to convince some of my old "playmates" of my loyalty to him. Many tried endlessly to convince me to sneak a fuck, thinking that if they just said the right things, surely this horny slut would put out once more... he'd never know, right? But he would know. I would never be able to keep it from him, even if I somehow summoned the insolence to try. And thats beside the point anyway, because I would never want to keep my mistakes from him - and thats something vanilla people always have a hard time grasping. I don't want to get away with anything!

For starters, my dignity as a submissive and my pride as his property depend on complete devotion to him. If I compromised this, how could I respect myself? And secondly, I want, as much as he does, to be under his complete control. As much as it can torment, and even frustrate me at times, I belong there. His ownership and his faith in my loyalty mean everything to me. If I betrayed that, it would not just mean his anger, his disappointment, his severe punishment, and my own shame - but most of all, the loss of this blissful sense of belonging to him.

That was my reasoning in the beginning, for not breaking my Master's trust. Over time the reasons changed to one that is much simpler, but has even more meaning: I am my Master's property. I have no right to lend his property to anyone else, only he can. And the same applies to playing with myself - I don't have the right to use his property any more than anyone else does. I must wait until he offers me the privilege.

That principle feels deeply right when it comes to play with others, but when it comes to playing with myself, although I can recognise its truthfulness, the real meaning hasn't sunk in yet. I am sure it will, and in time, my reasoning for not masturbating behind Master's back will also evolve from rationale to philosophy. In my thoughts, not just my actions, I will become even more a slave.

I have changed from fighting my desire to sleep around, to dependence on his permission - even in fantasy. I have grown to need his permission to orgasm, to the point where last time I was able to play, I had to imagine his voice to achieve it strongly. Now I'm on the way - slowly - to needing him even to touch myself. What next? Will he eventually have control even over my arousal? Will he become the very definition of my sexuality so that without him I have nothing - no desire other than what he permits and creates...? If that happened, then even if I was given back my freedom, I would have no choice but to be a slave for life...

All the self-respect of a......

Lately I've been loving being offered in exchange for work done on my Master's house. I'm being treated like a slutty object, a fucktoy to be used. The other day I had to be there on show for the refridgeration guy, then drive to another house to be used, and return in time for the electrician to fuck each of my holes. Walking through town in a tiny mini skirt and stockings on a hot day, I felt like an obvious whore... and, I hoped, a cheap one.

The other day, Master allowed me to make copies of many of the photos he's taken of me in use. It started me thinking about all the people he has had inside my holes since I've known him. I don't even think I'd be able to count. I want to laugh now, when I think about the promise he made me on that day..... that if I was his, he would make sure I was an extreme slut. I can't believe I doubted him at the time! Now, I honestly think I am far bigger a slut than I could ever have become of my own accord. And I know he will make me even better.

Two things are bringing all this to mind right now. The first is Master's observation, and my own, that somehow I've been less desperate than usual to have my holes fucked lately. I sincerely don't know what exactly it is, but I've been strangely "take it or leave it" a lot of the time. Its a little bewildering. I think a part of it is in my devotion to him - thankfully, the one lust that has not reduced in the slightest is my desire for Master and the drive to please him. Ironically, though, its led to him becoming somewhat disappointed with my sluttiness and desire for others.

Master's solution has not come as a surprise to me. Back when he took control of my sex life, bit by bit, I began to fear that one day he would take control of my masturbation, too. And now, the loss of that right not only reminds me that I am completely possessed, but it also serves another purpose: he is forcing me to remain hornier and hornier, so that I become utterly desperate to be fucked. Its a cruel kindness. And so far its working exactly as he planned.

The other statement bringing me to contemplate my slut's state of mind, is a suggestion, in an online forum, that to be used this way, I must have questionable self-respect. I found the idea intriguing, because it made me realise something vital: its amazing how much more pride I take in myself now, than I used to! And all it took was to be enslaved, whored, abused, and placed on the bottom of the heap for anyone to use! Its amazing what a sense of having found your place can do for one's self esteem :)

I believe there was once a time when my self-respect really was low. Its hard to remember now. But the way Master has trained me, my most degrading behaviours have become my greatest sources of self-worth. And I guess that makes it even more important that I re-ignite my horny state quickly - so I can be sure to maintain all the self-respect of a deserving, deviant, dirty slut!

Quick, call the paramedics...

...there is no question in my mind that I will resist for him, right up until he returns and grants permission, not a moment too soon...

I didn't.

But I didn't disobey him either.

In the 1800s, neurotic, over-emotional women were diagnosed with 'hysteria', and treated with the medical administration of a vibrator until they reached orgasm and were able to function rationally again. (Its true.) I wholeheartedly relate to this. I've blogged before about the state I end up in if I don't get fucked for too long. If I can't masturbate either, hysteria is a very accurate description for what happens to me.

Yesterday, less than 24 hours after my determined post, I lost control. I was screaming senselessly at Betty, who didn't know what to make of me, shaking, and crying uncontrollably for a good half hour. It came on out of the blue and took me a long while to figure out that my behaviour was not normal. I felt like the world was crashing down around me and couldn't understand why nobody could make sense of what I was saying. I felt victimised, attacked from all angles and unable to cope. It was an extreme reaction to nothing in particular.

When I eventually saw what was happening, I sent a message to Master, pleading with him. I explained my lack of success at orgasming when I was permitted to, and the ongoing teasing I'd been coping with for 3 days without release. I told him I wasn't coping, and that it was affecting my emotional state, and asked him to please consider allowing me just one self-induced orgasm...

... after assessing my progress on my other task, he must have been satisfied with my answer. He granted permission. Thank you, Sir.

Of course, I am already horny again. Masturbation is like that - it only satisfies for a very limited time compared to the real thing. Or maybe thats just for sluts like me. But I do feel a lot better, and its restored my confidence to last until he returns tomorrow night.

On the one hand, I want to think about seeing him, and look forward to it... but on the other, it starts to get me excited... and I don't want to be a wreck when I greet him...

There's no aphrodisiac like it

Before he left, I did get to spend a night alone with Master :) I was exhausted, and a little delirious, so he waited til morning to give me my instructions for his absence...

I am not allowed to touch myself while he is away.

For some people, that might sound fine. He is only gone for a few days. But for me, thats a long time not to masturbate. Particularly when I'm staying in Master's house, with so many arousing memories, under blankets that smell of him. Particularly when I have the other major daily task he has set me, the one that I'm not allowed to write about. It keeps me thinking dirty thoughts, and makes sure I am regularly on edge. I am allowed to cum under certain specific circumstances, but those circumstances are not optimal for release.

And then of course there's the fact of the rule he has set in itself. It keeps me reminded that my body does not belong to me. It is his, and he can choose to leave it at the disposal of anyone he likes... or deny it from anyone he likes, even me. That sense of possession in itself gives me an intense longing... And the knowledge of not being allowed to fulfil it makes me just want to touch myself even more. Its like saying, don't think about a big purple dildo. Nothing makes me want to bring myself off more, than not being allowed to bring myself off.

Its the third night and I am struggling. I have reached down many times and almost touched before remembering. I have been constantly wearing underwear, even to bed, just in case. Its getting harder today as my frustration has increased to the point where I am aware of my ability to orgasm just by clenching a little, without needing to touch. It would only take a very short lapse in willpower to fail him now.

But there is no question in my mind that I will resist for him, right up until he returns and grants permission, not a moment too soon. I am absolutely his, and as much as this is tormenting me right now, it would be far worse to disobey him. Not even because of the punishment he would give me, but because I would be ashamed of disappointing him.

Now, I must go... I have a task to complete before bedtime...

Celebrating the slut

As a 15-year-old virgin, I was so cock-hungry that I hand-made my first dildo. I used a pen as a frame to wrap a long bandage around, layer after layer until it was thick enough, and tight enough so that it would be firm but flexible. I added a layer of glad wrap to keep it from unravelling, then removed the pen and encased the whole thing in a condom, tying off the end. The result was a little scary - I'd never had anything bigger than a couple of my own fingers before, but I already felt that internal longing to be filled.

I still remember my first orgasm, at age 12. I had been masturbating my whole life, and one day the pleasure suddenly changed, and I thought, wow - its never felt like THAT before! I didn't know what it was, only that I wanted it to happen again. Three years later, when I tried my creation, it was like that again: discovering another world of pleasure. I kept that toy for another 3 years, until I was legally old enough to go sex shopping and buy a real one.

The other day, I attended a meeting for work, and one of the men there was someone I knew. The last time I had seen him, I was spread out naked on the floor, with his fingers and tongue teasing me, but denying me, while Master watched, amused, from the next room. Humiliating to sit across from him in a business meeting, the smile on his face growing wider as I tried to avoid his eyes. But realistically, something like this had to happen one day, and probably will again.

I was pondering this in bed this morning, and I thought, how long will it take before I've been used by so many people, that it is no longer a surprise to run into them like this? And I imagined one day, maybe being in a meeting with not one, but two, or even three faces smiling at me in that knowing way... maybe making a sly comment to me in the coffee room... perhaps even noticing each other, and becoming aware that they are not even the only one there who knows nadi... I imagined the shame and excitement of that this morning, as I made myself cum...

How are these stories linked, exactly? Just that sometimes, I think back, and feel amazed at what I slut I am. Its become a natural thing for me, but there are still times that I stand back and marvel at myself, and just think.... wow.... and I feel hot, and excited, and most of all grateful to Sir, for helping me enjoy it to the fullest.

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...

My name is nadi, and I am a sex addict.

Master currently has me keeping a diary of masturbation: a daily record of times, techniques, and accompanying fantasies. I am learning things from it - I have never before been so aware of the way my sexual mind works. Themes and patterns are emerging. One thing I've noticed is the cycle I go through after (real) sex. The following day I'm content and play a lot, remembering what I've just done, or had done to me. Then usually follows a period of satisfaction, where I don't need it. But soon I start to warm up again. By day four I'm touching myself compulsively. Day five I'm getting antsy. On day seven I'm truly climbing the walls. Luckily, for everyone's safety, I rarely have to wait any longer than that. I know from past experience that after that point, my psychotic evil twin starts to show, as I take my frustration out on myself and the world.

I used to be much, much worse. There was a time when I counted and calculated my average weekly number of fucks (as in, separate events, regardless of how many people were involved) to be 9. And I was single.

I was quite out of control. Now, I have someone who can control me.

Years ago, I was a smoker. I quit several times, but could never really find it in me to care much about my own health, and I was back at it soon enough. Eventually, someone I loved very much told me how much they cared. And then I could stop - not for myself, but for someone else. I haven't had a cigarette since. Now I couldn't completely give up sex for anything, but I have given up a lot of it. And once again, not for myself, but for someone else. This raises the question in my mind of what will happen if/when I am no longer his... but I'm not going there tonight....

Master has given me his control. I don't want to sound like one of those subby suck-ups I read online and roll my eyes (thats just given me an idea for another post), but.... I feel genuinely grateful for every limit he imposes on me. Thats the strange truth.