Purveyor of Pleasure

Delving into my humanity and the joys and pitfalls of an overanalytical nature.

Page 61 of 65

Spider Gag

Read in Episode #5 of The Sacred and Shameless Sexcast.

I lick my lips once more before the ability to do so is taken away, opening my mouth as he takes the spider gag I bought specifically for this and hooks it behind my teeth, effectively keeping my mouth open a whole wide two inches, easy access for whatever he would like to do to me, and, if we’re lucky, drool dribbling down my chin, emphasizing the baseness of my position. I moan oddly, sort of muffled but also loudly, due to the steel ring between my teeth. The four metal feet of it rubbing softly against my cheeks as my mouth is held open, as he buckles the strap behind my head.

Next, my arms are taken from my sides and brought to the back of me, soft rope twining around them, black rope, if I know the tool he is using, he captures my wrists together and then works on binding my arms, winding the rope around, one bit at a time, inching up my forearms. I try to lick my lips again, my attention focused on the rope, and I remember the gag, the drool already pooling in my mouth, able to lick at my bottom lip and barely at my top as I try, testing my mobility.

Somehow he’s seen this, and slides his finger into my mouth stroking my tongue as I wiggle it to meet his finger, chuckling softly at my inability to suckle it as he knows I would like to. I whimper, again muffled yet loud, wiggling my hips and then my shoulders, shifting my arms to test the strength of the rope. He tsks, “not yet, pet, I haven’t tied it off.”

I grunt a sound which is supposed to convey a pout, since I am unable to physically pout, and I can sense his smile from behind me. His hands both go back to the task at hand. The rope stops in the middle of my forearms, keeping them together, making me strain a bit to keep them that way, my shoulder blades pulled back, my chest thrust out. He comes around to the front of me, still standing before him, and he grins. I am already naked for him, but he is still fully clothed. Looking at him, this difference becomes even more emphasized in my mind, and I glance down at my nakedness and at his slacks and button-up shirt.

I squirm a little, uncomfortable, but knowing that in my uncomfortableness, my being exposed and vulnerable to him, my cunt is already getting wet. He watches me for a few moments before saying, simply, “display.” It is said softly, but with a steely sternness, it is a command and I squirm a little, striving to press my breasts out a little farther than they are, displaying them to him first, my legs together, still, with my head level and my eyes down. His hands move to my large breasts, feeling the weight of them, moving his fingers over the pierced nipples, flicking them softly, watching me whimper as he plays with them, a bit of drool already dribbling down my chin. I feel my cheeks warm with the heat of my blush.

He nods, his hands moving down to his sides, a signal for me to move to the next item on display, I shift, awkwardly spreading my legs, stepping out so that my thighs are nice and widely parted so his fingers can seek out the already damp folds of me, playing with my piercings, tugging at them softly, flicking at the bar running through my clit hood, a smile playing across his face as i whimper and try not to squirm, growing damper at his touch.

He slides his hand from my sex and moves his fingers to my mouth. I want to suck the juices off of them, but settle for trying to wrap my tongue around them instead, making my mouth water, and more drool dribbling down my chin. He removes his fingers and slides one down the trail of saliva dripping down my chin, laughing and catching my eyes with his own. “Dirty slut, can’t help but drool all over your chin…” he slides his hand back to my cunt, moving his finger against my thigh where some of my juices have dripped “and your thighs.”

I feel my cheeks burning at his words, sure that they must be a deep shade of pink at his comment, and yet feeling my cunt grow wetter still, my hips instantly moving toward his hand even at his cruel but teasing words. He just takes his hand away with a chuckle and nods, growling “show me that ass, whore.”

I whimper and turn around, struggling with bound arms to bend over. With the bed behind me I rest one shoulder against it, trying not to look back at him. Normally I would spread my cheeks for him, but that was impossible in my current situation, instead I strained my fingers as if I was trying to, so he knew that I was at least trying. The air was cool against the heat and wetness of my cunt as it was exposed, all of me exposed and even more vulnerable, my chin against our black sheets.

“Try not to drool all over my sheets, slut.” I attempt to shift my head, but can’t, and at that moment I feel his wet finger press against my tight backdoor and then plunge inside. He starts to fuck my little asshole with his finger, laughing at my muffled moans of pleasure and as I press back toward the invading digit, my hips grind back, sweet juices dripping down my thighs. Just as suddenly as his finger had entered my ass, I feel three slipping into my drooling cunt, filling both holes at once as he began rhythmically filling and unfilling each hole at opposite moments. I am going crazy with lust. Though as soon as it had started, it stopped.

“Next.” I whimper loudly, pressing my ass back toward him, trying to seek out the fingers which had been taken away from me, and, unable to find them, I just humped the air. The sound of a slap permeates the air and I feel a smart sting on my left cheek, even without looking I can tell it was the strap, and I’m going to get more if I don’t do as instructed. The last hole to be examined of his property was the mouth. The already drooling mouth, still aching to be used as it had from the moment the gag was placed within it. The mouth which was completely in his control, doing as he wished, taking all ability from me to swallow my saliva unconsciously, as we all do, and rather exposing my helpless position before him. I struggled to regain my composure as quickly as I could, but still got another smart smack to my right cheek, I was not moving fast enough.

I mumble something unintelligible and attempt to stand from my position. Finding that extremely difficult, I slide to my knees and turn around from there, meaning to stand after I doing so, in order to present my mouth properly. Instead of being able to stand instead his hand griped my hair and pulled my mouth to his very hard cock, not knowing when exactly he had unzipped his pants to let it out. I gag as he easily presses every inch of his cock past my lips, as I’m unable to keep it from pressing into my throat. I squeeze my thighs together and start to grind my hips against myself as he begins fucking my very accessible mouth, using it easily as drool begins to dribble down my chin.

A low moan escapes his thraot as he uses his grip on my head to guide my mouth up and down his shaft, now coated and shiny with my spit. He is already so close to cumming after playing with and teasing my body, his property. He uses my mouth easily, making me gag as he does, making my eyes water, making my cunt ache and my clit throb. I whimper again as he pulls my mouth away from his cock, I try to move forward reaching for his cock with my held-open mouth, but his hand stops me again, hand still in my hair, as his other began stroking his cock.

I stick out my tongue and wait for just a few long moments, looking up at him, pleading sounds coming from my mouth just before he groans and his cock starts spurting his cum across my face, coating me with it. Once his orgasm subsides he moves his cockhead against my tongue so that I can lap at the tip, tasting the last drops of cum.

His hand moves from my hair and rubs his cum against my face, mixing it with the drool, grinning down at me. “Such a good whore pet” he says, his other hand still stroking his cock, still slightly hard and getting harder again. “Now you get your reward…”

I Don't Want to Win

So, over the weekend, a few things happened. Master and I had a long talk about issues, like the last post about us. I’ve been extremely resistant lately, more than I would like to admit to. We are finally moving forward in our M/s relationship, we have guidelines, we have structure, and still I resist, and even more strongly, even though I was the one to encourage the changes. I can’t help but wonder about myself in these regards. I was the one desiring it, and yet still I’m the one resisting. How much sense does that make? And, yet, knowing what I do about psychology and about myself, it makes a lot of sense.

As mentioned previously, I’m a control freak. I love being in control, and yet I have the desire to be broken, but not permanently broken but… a temporary breaking. It’s hard to explain. I have such a tight rein on myself most of the time that makes it very difficult for me to give that over to another, while at the same time longing to be able to. I think that a lot of it, too, is I need to know that he is worthy of it, not only that he is worthy but that he can best me. I said this, and it confused him.

We talk a lot about equality, and he said that me wanting him to best me was counter to that, and I agreed. The funny thing is, I want equality except for when we’re not equal. Better to say, really, is I want equity. I want us to be unequal but of equal worth, sort of, while still being able to be called a dirty whore and lovely things like that. I want to be below him while both of us honoring both of our positions, not just his, both of us knowing that we are both to be cherished, that we are both of equal value and worth while at the same time he having power over me. I want us to be inherently equal, but unequal by choice. Perhaps this makes sense.

I recalled to him a story I once read, which was a morning-after story, basically, after a weekend of strict M/s. The high protocol was over from the night before, but the submissive was still acting as if she was in high protocol, just automatically. She did a few things and then took a step back and went “wait a minute, I don’t need to do this” and so she stopped. The story went on from there, but this is the important part.

I want to be able to do that. I want to get to a place where I am essentially broken though broken in a way that still retains my core self) and then be able to have that realization moment and move back into the “me” space, slip back into low protocol, and have high protocol my automatic motion. Currently it is the opposite, and currently it is almost painfully difficult to move into high protocol. Hopefully this will change with what I talked about last time, but we shall see.

This may sound harsher than I mean it, or it may sound wholly unrealistic, but I don’t think it is, not in the way I mean it anyway. It’s difficult to explain, perhaps, and I’m not even sure I’m getting the meaning across, but I’m trying to.

Basically, I need to know that he is better than me, that he can best me at any time, that he is above me, that he can master me with all the implications that term can have). I need to know this in my being before I can be completely his, completely owned by him, and I’m not sure I know this.

I know he is human, I know he has insecurities, but these aren’t the things which make him fall short of this, it’s the other things, the little things. I’m extremely sensitive to little things. I obsess. I nitpick. I endlessly play scenes and past scenarios in my head and pick them apart. I know that if I wait long enough, he will give up. If I am stubborn enough, I won’t have to do whatever it is he asks, because I will win out, I will be the stronger one, I will be victorious. I don’t want to win.

I’m working on this. I’m working on letting go, on giving myself over, but I’m not sure I will be able to allow myself this until I know that he can master me, not just that he can Dominate or Own me, though in a way that he is worthy of Owning me, and that may sound conceited, but it’s true of anyone. To be a Dominant, to be an Owner of someone else you must should be able to prove to them that you are worthy of owning another human being.

This is not to say that I don’t think he is wonderful. This is not to say that intellectually I think he isn’t worthy of owning me, but none of this is coming from a place of intellect, and this is where the problem lies. I have a great trouble controlling my automatic emotional reactions, and these are them. It has taken me a long time to get to this, years, really. I have been trying to write all this for about a week and have been mulling it over in my head for longer. I love him desperately, and I desire to be owned by him, and I desire to be submissive to him, and I desire to be the perfect little slavepet, but I have all this blockage inside that I have to work on and remove first.

Realizing this is the first step to breaking it down. I am amazing at keeping things from myself when I want to. I know that the brain will do this automatically, keep things from your conscious mind so that you can cope with them, deal with them, usually if they are traumatic or somehow shocking. This is a natural thing for the brain to do, but I feel like mine does it more than most.

Perhaps I am just so sensitive, that having the answer shoved at me instead of getting to it gradually and having to actually work at getting the answer would cause me shock. And this is probably true. It’s a water sign thing, really, and I know people who do this more than I do no names mentioned, of course, I could definitely not be talking about my old roommate Chris–yes I’m still bitter), so I’m somewhere on the end, but not quite at the extreme. At least I am trying to dig down and figure these things out.

This realization will do good for us, as all internal realizations have and will. We are wonderfully devoted to each other’s growth and discovery of self, and without that encouragement and the pushing that we each put on the other I don’t think we would have come nearly as far on our own as we have together. This is basically what our composite chart says, over and over, now that I think about it, lol. I’ll have to post that sometime.

Not On My Terms, Please

I had a dream two nights ago that I was being punished. My subconcious apparently needed me to feel worse about things, or maybe it was something which was meant to snap me out of my resistance, I’m not sure. It did make me realize a few things.

One thing I’ve been wanting to write on is something which illustratedtart said “I don’t think it should be up to me when I decide I want to be submissive and when I don’t want to be. ” Now, this is something I’ve been strugging with for a while. I have difficulty (as I’m sure everyone does to an extent) with giving up control. I love being in control, in fact, I am a control freak. I mentioned this to Master while we were talking about things like this and he said “you are? really?” all sarcastic-like. We know this, we know I have an overwhelming need to be in control in all situations. This makes M/s difficult for us.

Neither of us are yet concrete in our roles, we are both insecure for many reasons, and while we do try to “fake it until we make it” as it were (with tons of communication, of course) it is often difficult. I have been resisting his leadership lately, for various reasons, mainly because of the reason above, that he pulls me out of something I’m doing in order to do something he’s wanting me to. This should not be as big of an issue as it is. I think this is one of the issues with being 24/7 and living together, and eventually this will flow more easily, but for now we are still choppy. If we didn’t live together we could have time to mentally prepare before going into high protocol.

We are (basically) in low protocol all the time. High protocol, however, is difficult for me to slip into on a (his) whim, and so our solution is that we are going to have set times which we are in high protocol, rather than just having it happen whenever. I mean, we would still be able to have it happen whenever as well, but Master and I have decided that it would be best to give me a warning sort of thing, like “In 5 minutes we will be going into high protocol, slave” and then I will be able to finish whatever I’m doing and be ready when I am expected to.

Eventually, this will not be needed, but for now I am needing this in order to get to a space where I can be comfortable. It will still not be on my terms, and I will still not have control over it, but I will have the ability to be mentally prepaired for it, and that will give the illusion of control (sort of, mentally, if that makes sense), and that will help greatly with my resistance (in theory).

Master decided that for approximately 30 minutes after he gets home (or I get home, whoever gets home last) we will be in high protocol, and he will let me know his ETA and such. Our other set time is going to be Sundays, but he has not decided on a time. I think that weekend nights which we are alone for should be included in that as well, but we shall see. It will depend on other factors too.

I’ll update later about how this works. We have not done this yet. There will be more about the weekend later and what has lead up to this.

What I've Been Thinking About Lately

I mentioned a similar fantasy recently and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. Master and I both share in the fantasy of having another or many other men fucking me. I’ve been preoccupied with the idea of having two or three men fucking me at once, fucking each hole, switching between them, using me like an eager fucktoy. I was wet just thinking about it last night, and encouraged Master to fuck me, which I’ll detail on later. I ache to be filled in all holes at once, and I love to think of the pleasure my Master would get from watching me used by other men, flaunting how much of a slut I am, how eager I am to be fucked.

Poly and My Gender Crisis

I haven’t really talked much about polyamory here. This is something I would like to talk more about, and something which Master and I need to talk about as well. He has mentioned that he would not want another slave. I think his idea of poly includes us having a third, rather than just one of us or the other having another partner, but I’m not sure. I think I would want a secondary that’s just my own, and to be a secondary to that secondary. I also like the idea of us having someone who we are both with as well, but they would also have to be a secondary, he and I would come first. I would want our secondaries to have someone else, a primary, and maybe we could be involved with them as well somehow, or not, it would depend on the person.

I’m having a slight gender crisis right now, but that’s for a different post, I think, I don’t know, maybe not? I’ve been reading Stone Butch Blues, which is amazing and something that I think everyone should read, but I identify almost too strongly with Jess. I identify with butches, and I wonder if that’s part of what makes me a femme, or if it’s because I have some butch in me. I used to be butch. I loved it. I think I would still love it, but I love my femme-ininity just as well. When I was butch I still wore skirts, and maybe that’s what I need, to cross the lines instead of just being on one side or the other, but it’s hard to be somewhat butch and mostly femme it’s easier to be somewhat femme and mostly butch, and I don’t think that’s where I am at.

I feel like, in some odd ways, that I’m passing. I’m passing for straight and passing for woman, when in reality I am neither of those things. I love women and men, and women just a little more generally, but I’m currently with a man, which means I can pass as straight in the regular world, and maybe that’s good, maybe I need to be passing in Utah. I mean, it’s fucking Utah.

People look at me and think woman, they don’t have to figure me out, and maybe I like it when they do, but how do I encorporate a little bit of butch into my femme without cutting my hair or not wearing skirts or not wearing makeup, all of which I love to do/have. Odd, really. There’s no way to be feminine and in between unless you’re male, and maybe this is why I identify so strongly with drag queens and male femininity, because it’s a femininity which can be between man and woman while being feminine, but the between man and woman while being feminine for females is nearly impossible.

I long to be butch, yet I love to be femme, so where do I fit, if anywhere? This is partially where genderqueer comes in, but I want to be both and yet can’t be, and that’s basically genderqueer, but not only… I just don’t quite fit right. This is my gender crisis. I love the gender I’ve fit into, but how do I express it without wearing a gender tag that says “I’m a gothic looking bio-female genderqueer femme drag queen, ask me how!”? Otherwise I’m just written off as “woman.” And while I’m not against woman nor do I fault others for identifying as woman it doesn’t do it for me.

I love being femme, yet I long to be butch, but I know if I was butch I would long to be femme… wouldn’t I? Did I long to be femme while I was butch, or did I just long for a woman or a man who would accept me for who I was? Why did I start growing out my hair, so I could find a lover easier? I’m not sure. I’m not sure what I want, or what I am, or what I should do. But, then, I love having this long hair, and I want to grow it out, down past my shoulders, so it touches the middle of my back. Long black hair, nice and gothy and gorgeous and amusing all at once. I cling to my campy gender, my camp femme-ininty. I love it, and yet…

I think what I really need is a woman. I need female contact and companionship, not necesarially just for sex, but someone I can love and who will love me back. I’m not sure if I could have a woman bond like that as a secondary, though. I’m not sure she could be my primary either, though, since I’m with Onyx. And I love him, and I want him, and I love being with him and being his and everything that goes along with us being us, but he’s not a woman and he doesn’t understand some of the things that pull me so hard that sometimes i fear I will burst, or break, like women and queerness.

I think my longing to be butch is just a longing for a butch, or just for a woman, because I long for and love femme-ininity as well, so I think I’m just projecting my desire to be with a woman as my desire to be a different kind of woman, or the kind of woman I would want to be with, if that makes sense at all. I just ache and covet.

note: this, being a rant, is not asking for advice, but empathy is accepted happily.

Gothic-looking Bio-female Genderqueer Femme Drag Queen

This is my previous post on the subject, and this post will be slightly different but also similar.

I’m a gothic/gothabilly-looking bio-female genderqueer femme drag queen.

You may notice that I have added a couple new identity markers to my identity than my previous post about this, both bio-female and genderqueer. I may even add “high” to femme, but I’m still debating this.

I consider gothic/gothabilly-looking to be part of my gender identity because it effects how I express my genderqueer femme drag queen self. If I wore other types of clothing I would express my femmeness or my drag queenness or my genderqueerity in different ways, but as it is I express it through a gothic/gothabilly type of dress. I don’t really consider myself goth or gothic, and I don’t consider any labels to really define me perfectly (part of the reason why my gender identity is so long), but I do think that identities are useful as ways in which to express something about yourself to others, but know that I mean them as temporary describers to express my current relation with my gender identity (as in this case) or anything.

Bio-female is pretty self-explanatory, standing for “biologically female” and basically meaning that I was born with primary sex characteristics of a female and my body has developed secondary sex characteristics as well. My body has developed into a female on its own accord, and without any suppliments or help from outside sources. Although I don’t really “feel” female, but I think that is my not feeling like a conventional woman more than not feeling “female” because sex identity (male/female) and gender identity (man/woman) are so closely intwined and hard to seperate.

Genderqueer femme drag queen all goes together, but can be picked apart as well. Genderqueer is basically my way of saying that I don’t quite feel that I fit into the conventional ideas of man and woman as genders (as opposed to male and female as biological sex as described above), although I adopt other remarkably feminine identities in femme and drag queen they are not the same as a bio-female woman, in my opinion.

Femme is more of a visual identity for me, it is my distinction between femininity and femme-ininty, basically that femme is my conscious decision to wear makeup and skirts and to appear in a feminine manner. Drag queen is more of an internal identity. I feel more closely associated with a the feminintiy presented by drag queens than the femininity presented by contemporary ideas of woman, that is, camp femininity. My femininity is exaggerated and over the top and comes from a place of realized unnaturalness.

I embrace the idea that all gender is drag, that there is no “original” gender, there is nothing which is innate in us towards the things which make up a gender, that does not mean that we aren’t drawn to certain activities or other, but, take for example gendered things throughout the years and in different cultures. In some cultures, such as many Native American cultures, long hair is a symbol of strength and masculinity, in some, such as our current culture, it is considered feminine. Some cultures have men wearing skirts, such as in Scotland, in our culture that is considered feminine. Men used to wear what we would consider tights in high English society, or lace or velvet, and all three of those are considered connected with the feminine.

I don’t mean that we aren’t pulled to certain things or others, which I think we are, and there is a mixture of psychological and sociological factors that lead to things like gender, and so on. However, what we decide makes up “masculine” and “feminine” traits are not normative, they are not natural or innate nor is there only one way to do them. This can be shown, too, just in the last 50 or so years. In the 1950s it was scandalous for women to wear pants, it was considered butch and masculine, but now most women often wear pants more than they wear skirts.

So, “drag queen” in my identity is related to this notion of performativity, that gender is not natural and is performed, and it is also tied in with me embracing a femininity which is not associated with women, but associated with men. Males can express a very different type of femininity than females can, and I try to bridge that gap, although I don’t think it is often shown to others, that is why this is more of an internal identity, as mentioned before. I love campy femininity, that femininity which is over the top, and most often associated with gay males rather than females. It is that which exposes femininity as a pose, a performance, and that is what I embrace.

Hopefully that all makes sense. Feel free to ask questions, I won’t be offended.

Forward Again

Master gave me a list of protocols and household duties yesterday (really he emailed it to me late on Saturday right before we went to bed, and then I was able to look at it yesterday after work), and I love it. The household duties are reasonable, though I’m only slightly worried about them and remembering them all and having time to do them with work and class and homework and the gym, but I will get them done. I posted them to my journal privately along with the protocols so that I will look at them every day and work on memorizing them.

I also asked him about integrating verbal and physical position commands into our play, which is something I would really like to do and also something which I think will help me get into a slavehood mindset from our casual mindset easier than I do currently. We are both still shaky about things like that, but we are working on it. He thought it was a good idea, and I sent him a list of potential positions and commands (both verbal and physical–physical meaning mostly hand gestures) and I hope to get that back from him shortly so that I may begin memorizing the ones he wants me to.

I don’t know what my attraction is to having position commands, but it is a strong one. Perhaps it is simply being ordered around that I like (which I do) but perhaps it is more than that.

I’m very happy that we have specific protocols outlined as well as regular household duties and we’re working on other things. It’s nice to be working on things and moving forward with this instead of not doing anything.


We fucked this afternoon, and it was glorious. I asked him about verbal position commands, if we could integrate them into our play, which I’m very excited about, and he came over to the bed where I was to talk about it, turned me on my back and slid easily between welcoming legs, we grinned and talked about it for a bit while kissing and grinding against each other. He made the move to get up and I wrapped my legs around his waist, grinding up against him a little harder. He teased me for a bit before pulling back and undressing, moving to the side of the bed, his cock already hard, and telling me to turn around again, get on my knees. I did.

I moved back against him so his cock slid inside my already wet cunt and his hand went into my hair, eliciting a gasp and a moan from me. He doesn’t always pull my hair, and when he does, ooh, I go crazy for it. I just closed my eyes and let the sensations wash over me. He fucked me from behind like that (as is usual for us, you’ve probably noticed, our favorite position), his hands in my hair, then around my throat, then I suckled on his thumb softly as he continued to ride me. He put two fingers from each hand on either side of my mouth, slightly streching my lips apart. I was going absolutely crazy (in a good way, of course), and I was feeling wonderfully used.

He pulled out and turned me around again, moving my head to his cock as he started to thrust into it, alternating between using my mouth and having me lap at his balls with my eager tongue while he stroked his shaft. We did this until he came in my mouth, letting me suck his juices down happily, and then we rested for a few moments before he searched through our drawer of toys which is kept next to the nightstand. He found one of my dildos, a fairly large silicone one, and started fucking me with it while he rubbed my clit until I came once and then again, easily under his ministrations.

At this point he removed the dildo, wet with my juices, and slid it into my mouth, letting me suckle on it as he then moved again between my legs, sliding his again hardened cock into me, fucking me while I still sucked on the black silicone cock in my mouth, making me moan and writhe beneath him. He fucked me nice and hard until I couldn’t take it anymore and I slid my hand down to my cunt, rubbing my clit as he got close to cumming. He took the dildo out of my mouth, presumably so that I would be able to ask to cum as I am supposed to do. I felt him cumming inside of me, filling me up with him and I began rubbing harder, my legs tightening around him, getting closer and closer and finally begging to cum, being allowed to, and finding the spasms taking me over yet again as I came hard around his cock.

Anais Nin Quotes

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

“If you do not breathe through writing, if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing, then don’t write, because our culture has no use for it.”

“Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death.”

“Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish it’s source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.”

“When we blindly adopt a religion, a political system, a literary dogma, we become automatons. We cease to grow.”

“We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are.”

“I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naive or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman. ”

“I do not want to be the leader. I refuse to be the leader. I want to live richly and darkly in my femaleness. I want a man lying over me, always over me. His will, his pleasure, his desire, his life, his work, his sexuality the touchstone, the command, my pivot. I don’t mind working, holding my ground intellectually, artistically; but as a woman, oh, god, as a woman i want to be dominated. I don’t mind being told to stand on my own feet, not to cling all that I am capable of doing but I am going to be pursued, fucked, and possessed by the will of a male at his time, his bidding.”

I love the last two, but have issue with it at the same time, probably because of its implied heterosexuality, but also because they hinge on womanhood and femaleness. I am trying to find a new quote to use, and none of them quite work, because they’re all about men and women and I want one more ambiguous. I suppose I could change some wording, but… I don’t know. I mean, granted, I’m with a man right now, and I love him very much, but we are also poly and I also love women and need a woman in my life, and I don’t consider it the natural place of women to be submissive to men, so here lies the problem. I will stick to what I had before, but I’m still wanting a new quote, dammit.

Dream Fucking

Master and I have been somewhat busy and haven’t been fucking as much as we normally would. We had a house guest for a while, who slept on the couch in the living room and since sound carries from here to there we waited for her to leave. I’ve also been going to the gym and because of that, too, I have been sore and we decided it would be wise to wait a bit.

Master did (finally) give me my protocol handbook last night, and we worked a little on that, but not much.

We didn’t fuck last night, he was sick (had a fever of 100.1) and I was all sore, but I did have a dream/fantasy last night…

We were hanging around with another man, no one that I can identify, though in the dream it was someone we both knew well. We were all talking, and Master made some offhand comment about me being a good little slut, and the other person was somewhat shocked but seemed to take a moment to remember our relationship, Master ordered me to kneel next to him on the floor, while the other person was in the room, and I was slightly embarassed but did it, of course, trying not to protest too much as I didn’t want to make a bad impression or to embarrass Master any. I did so and Master and the other man continued to talk for a bit, I don’t remember about what.

After a bit I realized they were both looking at me, I looked up quizzically, and Master repeated that he wanted me to go over and take the other man’s cock in my mouth. I gasped softly and looked back and forth between the two before crawling over to the other man and as I crawled he unzipped his pants and pulled out a slightly hardened cock. I remember taking it into my mouth and feeling the texture of it, slipping my tongue around it, and then I woke up.

I believe I will have to write a more in-depth story about this later, probably ending with me being fucked by both of them at once. Mmm.

Page 61 of 65

Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén