Purveyor of Pleasure

Pleasure is my business, my life, my joy, my purpose.

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Leathercraft Beginnings

Looking at leatherworking tools at Tandy Leather Factory, I hear they’re the best place to go. I bought some Lorica (vegan leather) from Vegan Erotica a bit back, and it’s wonderful, but I need tools and things before I actually start making things. I have a few things in mind for what I want, but I’m also not sure which to get. I have a feeling I’ll have to place an order, see what I can do, then place subsequent orders after that so that I have everything I need.

I’m supposed to make a collar for my good friend Kat’s slave. She has something specific in mind, and I’m going to do something very similar. I’m working on getting all the materials together, which will include real leather (she didn’t want any of my fake stuff, even though it’s awesome) as well as some braiding and both O- and D-rings and a buckle at the back. It’s going to be awesome, but one of the questions is, when will I get to work on it? But, the sooner I get the tools, the sooner I can work on it. So, at least I’m stepping in the right direction.

I want to make myself some cuffs and such, too, I think. Perhaps I should do that first, with the Lorica, to get used to working with the tools I have, because I want their collar to be perfect, and my stuff can be kinda queer.

Needy Me

I think I need some things to change, at the moment. I feel like we are not doing as much as I would like, but we are both busy, so where do we find the time, how do we find the time? We need to make time, I guess. I feel like we haven’t done much extreme for a long time. I want to be tied up, I want him to tie me up and tease me and then leave me there, bound, gagged, and instruct me not to move.

Why is it easier to submit to strangers online than it is to submit to the man I love? Not that I do that too often, or hardly at all, really, but I found myself desiring it, just the easy anonymous submission, without having to think of future ramifications, without having to think about what people might think or say or how they might act around me differently. Though, I don’t think that Owner would act differently around me if I was to always submit fully to him, instead of what I’ve been doing, which is erratic and often bratty.

I’ve been wanting to be dominated lately, to just be used, taken, played with as a toy instead of as a person or human or even pet. Perhaps that’s another aspect of my cuntpetness is the Owner/toy aspect of it. I love being treated like a toy, being put into the place where I don’t have to think about anything, just being manipulated and molded by the will of another. I ache for that, and I’ve been wanting it a lot lately. Of course, instead of just saying this to Master, I just act more bratty and irritable, subconsciously hoping that he will take me in hand, so to speak. Needless to say, this doesn’t work.

Why don’t I just up and say something to him? Well, honestly, I think I’m rather shy about stuff like that. I have this fear of expressing things that are real, a fear of exposing myself to others, which is really why I’m attracted to submission in the first place. I long to be able to be exposed, raw, and bare, and for it not to matter. I care too much about what he thinks, and I’m too paranoid about getting hurt or about him not taking something the way I mean it, or about him not taking something I say seriously enough, or taking it too seriously… and so instead of saying things I just close off, shut down, until I am irritated and he’s confused.

The solution is obvious, but how to get to the solution, that’s the problem. It’s so difficult for me to say what I have and do already, I’m not sure how much more I really can express, and yet I know I need to. More than anything right now, I just need to be used and ass fucked would be nice too.

Vague Descriptions and Wonders

We’ve been having sex more often, I’ve been initiating more often. I find I go through periods where I really want him to initiate sex, and then periods of not caring because I want it so badly I just don’t care.

We fucked on the main level of our home this past weekend. Our roommates went upstairs to have sex, and we just stayed there and fucked. He fucked me from behind as I was leaning over the side of the couch and it was wonderful.

Later, we went downstairs, we’ve been having wonderful quickies nearly every night, quick hard fucks that are simply delicious. That night he woke me up by sliding between my legs, one of his legs between mine, my hips just slightly raised in a mostly-sleeping state, and slid his cock inside of me, fucking me, again, quick and hard until he came.

He’s been fucking me and cumming in me, and I haven’t been cumming as often, but I have been cumming hard and frequently. I think when we’re having sex it makes me want more sex.

I remember reading somewhere that sperm can become an addiction, rather, the chemicals given by a lover’s sperm can reduce depression. I heard this as specifically when cum in the cunt, but I would think this would be true for any oral or anal cummage or probably bodily cummage as well. I’ve heard this as specifically the same as being with or simply talking with your lover, basically hearing their voice or being with them can become an addiction as well. Specifically with being with them and with getting their cum, it can be brought down to biological chemistry, our bodies get used to getting certain chemicals from the other person, and used to certain chemicals being produced by your own brain when with the person, so when you don’t have it, you basically go through withdrawals, which often looks like depression. I’m not sure if the cum bit works with women lovers too, but I wouldn’t be surprised.
</biology lesson>

The point of this? I think I’m addicted to my Owner’s cum. The more I have of it, the more I want it. The more he cums on or in me, the more I want that to continue happen and happen over and over again. I get irritable and moody when he’s not fucking me, and when it goes too long without us having much sex (which happens from time to time, and by too long I mean a week or so) I get to a point where I don’t want to initiate, I want him to initiate, and I want him (by initiating) to show his desire for me.


Foucault, in an interview in Salmagundi, said “Men think that women can only experience pleasure in recognizing men as masters”(1) (talking about cisgendered regular men who buy into the compulsory misogynist hegemonic paradigm, of course). He also, in the same interview, “praises sado-masochistic practices for helping homosexual men (many of whom share heterosexual men’s fear of losing their authority by “being under another man in the act of love”) to “alleviate” the “problem” of feeling “that the passive role is in some way demeaning”(2). The article this was in, by Leo Bersani, was one I had to read for my Queer Theory class. Bersani basically says that Foucault is wrong, and that the point of the “passive” or bottom or powerless role is that it is degrading and it should be valued as degrading. I think they’re both right.

In some ways, the point of submission, the point of putting oneself in the powerless role, is the ability to feel that loss of control, the ability to not have to think, but it also is a way to grow. Though experiencing degradation (and I don’t mean specifically degradation play, I mean degradation in the sense of being “reduced in rank, position, reputation, etc.” (3), which is, the way Bersani used it as well) one is able to find out what is truly valued as well as truths about the self which may not be known any other way. When one is reduced to a state of powerlessness, that is when one is degraded, there is a vast amount which one can learn about oneself. In this way it should be valued as degrading, as Bersani said, but viewing it in that light can also take away from the fact that it is degrading and demeaning, as Foucault said.

There is great power in submission and powerlessness, and great value in it. However, I wonder if it is the ability to be powerful or powerless at will that makes this more valuable. That is, if one is always powerless, constantly powerless, and unable to change their power for some reason or another would the worth of powerlessness be able to be seen, or since it is simply the way that one has to be would it not have the same kind of value? I’m honestly not sure. I’m also not sure if there is a situation where power could never change, never being so absolute. I think this is a catch in/emphasis of my power drag theory as well.

Since bdsm is power drag, and power drag is emphasizing the non-essential nature of power dynamics, that power dynamics are ever present, and that power is fluid and changeable, what would it mean if there were situations where power was never able to change? Like I said, I’m not sure if there are instances of this, but there probably are. Though, looking at gender drag and mirroring it, I’m sure there are situations where people feel like there is no way they would want to or could change their gender, so this might not be much of a snag after all.

(1) “Sexual Choice, Sexual Act: An Interview with Michel Foucault,” Salmagundi, nos. 58-59 (Fall 1982-Winter 1983), p. 21.
(2) Bersani, Leo. “Is the Rectum a Grave?” The MIT Press October, 1987 p.212-213.
(3) “degraded – Definitions from Dictionary.com


Saturday and Sunday nights were yummy. I don’t remember all the details, or I would expound them in a much more articulate manner, however, I do remember on Saturday there was fucking–lots of fucking. Master came twice inside of me after not thinking that he could cum at all (we had some additives in our system that he thought would hinder him). He fucked my face some. I called out dirty things to him and moaned and begged for him to pound my cunt. We played around with some asphyxiation as well (I asked for it, yum, I love it), and he made me cum with his hand over my mouth and holding my nose closed. I’m sure I’m forgetting things, but it was all a blur of wonderful sensation.

Sunday was more regular, and though Master was sore I got him to fuck me anyway, just a quickie with him fucking me with my ankles on his shoulders. He was ready to call it a night after he came, but I asked if I could, he said something like “you don’t think you get to cum every night, do you?” I said “no, but I can at least ask.” And he was very generous and let me cum once, hard, for about a minute. It was delicious.

That’s my quickie.


I have been trying to come up with better terms for what I engage in than Master/Mistress and slave. I think I need a combination of Owner/cunt, Owner/pet, and Owner/(sexual) servant. So maybe I’m a sexual service cuntpet? Heh. Perhaps pet can encompass all of these?

What I mean by this: Owner/cunt as described by cunt is something I take to mean as having fun with bratting, in many ways, and being able to mouth off and protest and curse and do all the things a “proper slave” is supposedly not supposed to do. These are things I enjoy to do at times, though not at others. Well, correction, I’m a smart-ass all the time, regardless, and I am a brat quite often, though not always for the aim of being forced into submission. I enjoy being forced and overpowered and just, well, dominated. I definitely have a force fetish. However, I do enjoy service also, I do enjoy other aspects of slavehood, not just being forced. Thus, the other aspects.

My service is primarily sexual, though not only. I enjoy doing for him in whatever way he needs, as a symbol or signal of my submission to him and as a gesture of my love, adoration, and worship of not only him but also our chosen dynamic. I love serving him sexually, being told what to do, ordered around, and also just giving that service to him. We have expanded my service to other mundane things such as making and serving him food and drinks (which I would do anyway, but we have made it into more of an expression of my submission by adding gesture and word to it should we be alone, or simply eye contact and both of us mentally acknowledging my gift at that point). I enjoy doing menial mundane things for him as well as the sexual service which I readily and eagerly provide.

Master calls me pet, I think it’s his favorite term for me, really. I have always fancied my submission as being a mixture of pampered pet and dirty whore, and my idea of Owner/pet is that of a pampered pet as well as an eager follower. Pets can be strong and willful, independent, stubborn, and spirited, while at the same time being able to be tamed or broken. One of my favorite quotes, which Kat introduced me to, and I don’t remember who it is by, but she may let us know in a comment and I will amend this: “A wild horse doesn’t need to be broken. If she is tamed properly she will still have fire in her eyes while eating out of the palm of your hand.” This is really what I mean when I say “broken.” I don’t mean broken in an unhealthy sort of way, or in a way that would squelch my spirit and self, but in a way that would tame me for the time being, with the knowledge and desire for me to become strong and willful and etc. again, but also be able to have this “broken” or tamed space within which I can be as well.

This may be the best for an overall idea, Owner/pet, though I think that “pet” carries different connotations than those I would be using them for, but maybe that’s okay, because, really, no matter what word I use it will have some sort of connotation or another. Perhaps I just need a new word altogether, but even that would carry a connotation in a sense. Perhaps “cuntpet” is a more fitting and accurate term, which carries with it damn near the connotations that I would like associated with it and me and my submission. So, after all this musing, I come back to what I said at the beginning of the entry: so maybe I’m a sexual service cuntpet. Or just cuntpet for short.

Though, this doesn’t address my generalization issues, as mentioned in the last post as well, that this is rather specifically a female term, and though I do know some boys are called cunt too, I’m not sure if it would work. However, at this point I’m not as much worried about it generalizing as I am about just wanting something which is individually mine. Maybe that’s all that matters. Cuntpet is me, and very specific.


I’m intrigued by the notion described here by cunt at underhishand.com. I have long been searching for better terms than Master/Mistress and slave to describe what I engage in. I enjoy using the terms Owner and slave, but that still carries the ‘slave’ connotations, which are part of what I want to get out of. This is part of the idea behind slavehood vs. slavery as described by Miss Abernathy, but even this is not perfect, and still uses the term slave.

cunt’s idea is that of Owner/cunt, and some of her descriptions are close to what I want as well: “I get to have my “force fetish” scratched without it having hidden meanings of anything bad. I get to dance out of reach and sing “make me” and then run like hell, because he will make me and it will hurt.. and I love it. I get to say ‘no’ and ‘fuck you’ and ‘kiss my ass’ and I get to be stubborn and willful and difficult. I get to cry and I get to say how much I hate it and I get to ask for something more and I get to tell him that he is wrong sometimes.”

I’m not sure if this would really apply to me, though. I mean, I like those things, I also want to be taken and broken and made to submit, and be able to be a brat (we even have a brat clause in our contract), but I also want to have times where I am simply giving to him, when I am in that subspace that I love so dear and when I can just give to him instead of being forced. But, this hasn’t happened, this idea is more of a theoretical one as far as our relationship goes. I mean, there have been times when I’ve done that, but there are also times when I want to act like described above. I guess the trick is to find when one will mesh with what Master is wanting and when it won’t.

I do like the term of Owner/cunt better than Master/slave or Owner/slave at this point, and perhaps I will talk with Master about it (or he will simply read this) and so we can switch our terminology from slave to cunt as far as our protocols and such. My only negative about using it in general is that it is not generalizable to any gender, it is rather specific, as the word cunt is rather specific, and I’m not sure of a term that would work in the same context for other genders. I’m not sure if I would want to go this far so quickly, though, and, of course, it will depend on what he has to say about it and what he thinks about it.

Of course, I disagree with her comments about not getting the spirituality and bdsm connection, and the service part to an extent. Like I said, I have times where I want to serve, but there are also times where I just want to be broken and forced and dominated wholly. Sometimes these things don’t mesh with what Master wants. There are times when I want to be forced and told what to do when at the same time he is just wanting me to serve him and do without being told. This poses a problem. I sometimes am in a head space where I have to be forced in order to get out of said head space, and mostly these are due to emotional reactions to something, and when I am feeling like that and he wanting me to just serve without direction, this doesn’t work.

This is something we need to work on, obviously, and I’m not sure how to go about it. Part of me says that I should be the one to compromise, obviously, since I’m the submissive in our relationship. However, when I am in a space of emotional reaction logic like this does not come easily, or well, it comes and I see it as the right thing, but I cannot accept it no matter what I do, because I’m in an emotional headspace. I’m not sure how to get out of it without something to snap me out of it. So, perhaps he is the one who needs to command me to get out of it, thus snapping me out of it and telling me what to do, and perhaps getting me to another space where I can serve without being told what to do, effectively being sort of a double-compromise (maybe?).

I have these dual wants in me as mentioned, the desire to serve and please and be a good little girl who does everything right and the desire to be a brat and be difficult so that I may be forced and broken and made to submit. I’d like to be able to retain both of these, and I know that Master enjoys both of these at different times, but only the latter when he’s in the mood for it.

I have never really been throughly broken by him, the time that I can think of that came close was during an asphyxiation scene, it was very casual, and we were just watching Angel and he began to asphyxiate me. I got light headed and a little dizzy (in a good way) and slipped instantly into that service mode. I was floating, and felt amazing and wonderful. I would like to do this again, which I actually mentioned the other night in bed.

I have much more to say on this, but I will save more for a later post. Now: I must write a paper.


An answer to the qotn (question of the now) which I posed a few days ago in slavehood:

What are your thoughts and associations to the word “cunt”?
I’ve had an affinity for the word cunt since I read Cunt by Inga Muscio when I was 14ish, I think? Something like that. Not much after that I heard the reclaiming of the word cunt in The Vagina Monologues as well, and I have loved it ever since.

I’ve always liked it better than pussy or vagina or twat or any of the other terms for the female genitals, I think it holds a power that is primal and strong and something that can’t be taken away. Since it is such as strong word of female power it has been, of course, twisted to be the worst word to call a woman in our society, worse than bitch or slut or any of the other typical female slurs.

When referring to my own vulva I use the word cunt. I enjoy being called a cunt as well, should it be intended with desire as opposed to hurt. I identify with the word cunt more and more, and have considered it as a potential better word than “slave” as I feel that the connotations of cunt are far better than the connotations of slave, however, it is not a perfect match either.

I find it to be a wonderful word, rich in meaning, power, and association. It can be humiliating and shameful when used in the right contexts, it can be empowering and strong when used in other contexts, and it can be hurtful and painful when used in other (not so fun) contexts, but that is the adaptability and flexibility of meanings of words.

I love my cunt, and I love being a cunt, and I love other cunts too. I love saying cunt and seeing the reactions that I get. I love saying cunt to feel the silky smoothness roll off my tongue. I just love cunt in its entirety.

Read More

I *heart* Leonard Nemoy

Leonard Nemoy on The Colbert Report talking about his book of nude bbw photography and making wonderful statements about our negative standards of beauty and female body image issues. Not really new information, but having it said on tv by Leonard Nemoy is pretty rad.

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…”

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