Archive for July, 2009

Training is Painful

July 30th, 2009 4 comments

“Training is painful.”  He said, as I sat and stared at the floor.

I blinked back the tears that were freely flowing before He got home and lifted my head.  I remember those words.

Seven years ago He said them.  Stole a line – or three – from a book.

He told me that my collar was to teach me, to control me and to bring me pain.  He said it wouldn’t always be good pain.  He said it wouldn’t always be intentional.  But He promised me that my collar would bring me pain.

Tuesday was different.

Back then, He was jumpy.  Nervous.  The training was sexual in nature.  The craving driven by our loins.

Night after night, I knelt in the kitchen while He circled me.  And night after night, He sent me to another man to be used.  Reminded of my place.

Back then I wasn’t ready.  I would have taken any nervousness on His part as weakness.  Incompetence.  Probably did.

Back then I was irrational and unreasonable. Read more…

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SJP#112: Female Teacher

July 29th, 2009 3 comments

Write about a woman teacher who affected you in a positive way.

I’m sitting here turning this over and over in my head.  I hated all my female teachers for the most part.  I have always had issues with females in authority.

Course, there were only two or three male teachers I liked, too.  I guess I just hated authority in general in school.  Hee.

There was this one female teacher, though.  We’ll call her Ms. D.  She was my French teacher for two years in a row.  And she was awesomely cool.

We had this kid in our class who was pretty down on his luck.  He was taking French to boost his GPA.  He was failing his other courses and he already spoke French.  So he rarely did anything that wasn’t for credit and usually sat in the middle of the classroom doodling and hoping Ms. D would leave him alone.

He didn’t talk to many people.  Just me and his small circle of friends.  None of whom were in our class.

Ms. D would call on him regularly and have to repeat her question.  They would chatter back and forth making smart-assed comments to each other.  But Ms. D never overstepped her bounds as a teacher.  Everything she said to him was within her role as an educator.  Read more…

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Permission to Cum? Please?

July 28th, 2009 1 comment

I’m required to request permission to cum.  I don’t talk about it because…  Well, because orgasms are a touchy subject with me.  I was raised to believe that female masturbation is bad and I get all sorts of embarrassed when discussing an orgasm.  I’d rather hide in a dark hole alone with just my fingers than ask to cum in front of someone.

That doesn’t stop me from masturbating when I’m allowed, mind.  And I’ve long since gotten over being embarrassed by masturbating in front of Him…  For the most part.  I had to.  So far, an orgasm during sex has proven to be impossible in most instances.  With anyone, not just Him.

Maybe I’m doing something wrong.  Ah well.  I don’t mind so much.  And maybe I’ll figure it out, what with all this sex stuff I’ve been reading.

I’ve actually managed to manipulate the situation so that Master tells me to cum after sex because I won’t ask.  No matter how many times we fuck or how long it’s been since the last time I came.  Half the time, I won’t even tell Him I’m horny.  Try to seduce Him.  None of it.  Between my crippling fear of rejection and the embarrassment of having to ask to do something I’ve been conditioned to view as “bad”, I can’t bring myself to do it most of the time.

On top of that is the assumption that He’ll say no.  Even though I’m asking if I can diddle myself, I feel like I’m being rejected. Read more…

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500 Words: More?

July 26th, 2009 Comments off

500wordsIconAuthor’s Note: This is way over 500 words.  Oh well.

You stare at her shape in the darkness.  The gentle rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathes in the cool night air.  And then she turns to face you.  And almost without thinking, your mouth finds her nipple.

She moans.

Your cock stirs.

Suddenly you’re on top of her.  Pushing her legs apart with your own.  Impaling her.

Eyelids flutter open and search for your face.  You can barely see the movement in the pitch black room.

Hands, like silk, tease the flesh of your back.  Moans, soft and sweet, tease your throat.

That slick, wanton hole milks your cock for all it’s worth as hips meet pelvis again and again.

Her tongue dances along the heat of your chest.  Tangles in your hair.  Tastes your skin.

And finally, as quickly as you started it, you finish it.  Pleasure rips through your body as your lips meet hers.  Primal need fills the air as the intensity of her moans match the intensity of your orgasm stroke for stroke.  And then you are finished.  And you lay beside her and order her to cum.

She wastes no time.  Fingers find the hardened bud trapped in so much hot, wet flesh and begin manipulating it to her will.  And then, she cums.  Loud and long and trembling as she turns toward you and nuzzles her face into your arm.

You both drift off to sleep between touches and pinches and caresses. Read more…

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“We” vs. “Me”

July 25th, 2009 Comments off

I realize I’ve been a posting fiend recently.  Master’s working a LOT.  He’s working right now.  And I’ve got all this shit spinning round and round in my head and I’m all sorts of excited that I’m actually paying attention to shit that needs paying attention to and…  I’m thinking.  Logically.  About things that need thinking about.  And that’s really freaking cool.

And it really does only take an hour to clean our house.  That’s no joke.  So what the hell else am I supposed to do while He’s working besides sit and think about all the shit I’ve caused and what steps I can take to fix it? Ah well.  Maybe I’ll get that writing job I applied for and y’all will get at least a couple hours respite from me.  =D

I was going to start this entry “So M used to talk to this girl I hated…” because I usually hate the girls He likes and vice versa.  But then it occurred to me that I’m not really sure if I even knew the chick.  Best not to start shit over no shit.


Master used to talk to this chick.  I’m not sure how often He actually talked to her.  Maybe only a few times.  I just remember that her intentions were to get involved with Him in some way.  And one or the other of us pointed her to our blog.  I think, back then, it was my blog.  I don’t think the idea of Master blogging had even been discussed yet.

So she came here, looked around, read a few articles…  And then went to Master and told Him, “Your slave concentrates on herself too much.  Every entry is ‘I think this.’ or ‘I did that.’ There’s rarely ever mention of ‘we’ or ‘us’ or even ‘him’. You should work on that.” Read more…

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SJP#207: Pushing Boundaries

July 25th, 2009 2 comments

How do you react when your owner expects something of you that you are not prepared to give? Is that the way you want to respond, and is that the way your owner wants you to respond?

How I react to orders that I’m not comfortable with really depends on the order.  Sometimes I just roll my eyes and do it.  I know, even as I roll my eyes, that I really should get tossed in the corner for a bit when I’m finished doing whatever it was He told me to do.  But it’s an old reflex that I can’t seem to break.  And I figure it’s better than the other times.

The other times…

We hadn’t been together long the first time Master loaned my use to someone else.

The beginning of our relationship was all about pushing boundaries.  Both of us making asinine comments and mistakes and challenges and watching to see if the other would make it through the flaming hoop of death without getting their ass burned.  Me trying to prove that I was more than He could handle and Him trying to prove that I was full of shit.  That I was exactly what He was looking for.

We were together three or four months the first time He told me He wanted to give me to the guy next door.

At first it was a threat.  If you don’t stop being such a prude, I’m gonna send you to R and show you how much of a whore you are. Or some such.  It wasn’t always used in a sexual capacity.  Sometimes, I’d be threatened with being told to offer myself to this guy for forgetting to do the dishes.  It was a boundary and He wanted to push it.  He doesn’t much care for being boxed in. Read more…

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