Month: December 2013

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Last bit of cheesiness: 

Sir and I took a little bit to understand how the other expresses their feelings and wants to see the other manifest that sort of stuff. I’m a nut about punctuality and plans, and I consider a lack of either to demonstrate a lack of interest. Sir is more about intention and sincerity than the details, which is what I cling to. We drive each other nuts.

One thing we disagreed about was giving flowers. Sir said they were super impractical and didn’t last very long. I insisted it was the gesture that mattered and that they could totally be preserved. Otherwise, he was mostly sweet about gifts and tried his damned hardest to put in a bit more planning to spare my anxiety.

After what was probably our worst disagreement, Sir and I were supposed to go to a formal. I went to a friend’s to do my makeup and stayed a little later, assuming he wouldn’t be punctual anyway. I was anxious because some of my feelings were still a little raw. But, as I turned the corner to my door, I saw him standing there: on time and with a rose. It was what the gesture actually meant that mattered most to me.

I promise I’ll get back to writing about him putting things in my butt soon.

My Daddy loves spanking me, and I love being spanked, but sometimes it seems he ends up with more ouchies than me, especially as he has wrist issues. Any suggestions on better technique/tools that feel hand-like? (Should I be asking Craftsmate?)

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Oh no! We can’t be having your Daddy get those ouchies, that’s just not right.

If you like the way a hand sort of has a lot of thud that builds up to sting, I’d suggest a flogger. Except getting flogged over someone’s lap is a little hard in terms of leverage, so maybe try a belt (ouchies) or a strap (SUPER ouchies). 

I hope this helps.

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It started on his couch.

When we were just play partners and nobody knew, we’d be hanging out with friends and he and I would gravitate to the couch. He’d reach over and tickle my feet or pinch me – both of which drove me absolutely crazy.

We spent nights up far too late on that couch talking – one excruciatingly late in particular – and I realized I’d befriended a really special person. I had no idea how important he’d become to me, how much I’d come to care for him, how I would just be so stupidly fond of him.

It’s been a wonderful year and I’m a huge cheeseball and whatever.

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The Adventures of Sir, Sweetheart and Mr. Purple, Part Four

The following evening, after Sir and I went out to the movies, we wound up back at his place and he said that he wanted to train my ass. I’m the queen of squirming out of anal play, but I had offered to him that during this trip I would let him at least get the anal beads that he bought me up there. We’d only used them once before and I was super shy about it and insisted I pull them out myself.

But, while I was lying across his lap and he was applying lubricant to the beads and my asshole, Sir told me he also intended on trying to get Mr. Purple in there, too.

“He’s not gonna fit!” I pouted.

Sir placed his hand at the curve of my back to calm me, “it’s made for assholes. It will fit just fine if you relax.”

While Sir started to slip the beads in, I focused on my breathing. The strand is silicone, I believe, with about ten beads that increase in size. I tried to count as each one went in, but Sir would pull them back out ever so often to get me accustomed to taking them.

Usually, at the earliest sign of feeling uncomfortable or out of control, I would have made him stop. But, I tried to trust that he wouldn’t hurt me. He checked in regularly to make sure I was feeling all right, and only stopped when I literally felt so full I couldn’t take another.

“You took eight out of ten. I’m very proud,” he replied. He had me get up and walk around, making me explain to him exactly how it felt. I got back over his lap and he pulled them out while I buried my face in his couch.

“Okay, darling,” he continued, applying more lubricant to my asshole, “time for Mr. Purple.”

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I am trying very hard to trust. Not just in terms of the D/s stuff, but in terms of the nonmonogamy stuff, too.

And you know what?

Sometimes it’s really hard. But I’m trying. And I’m proud of myself for that.

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The Adventures of Sir, Sweetheart and Mr. Purple, Part Three

I was rather exhausted, so we ended the night with me sucking Sir’s cock and taking a little nap right after in his arms that turned into a few hours of sleep. I woke back up and Sir had me brush my teeth and get ready before he tucked me in and put me to bed.

The following afternoon, Sir had me take off my clothes and lie down on my stomach. He put my new cuffs on and secured them together over my head. “Are you ready, girl?” he asked, running his hand over my bare ass.

I should clarify that lately I’ve been opening up to him about wanting to explore some territory that I had been previously closed the door on. Basically, in the past, I’d had my trust betrayed to such a degree that I backed away from some of the more extreme forms of submission that I really do want. Time and again, Sir has proved himself trustworthy and so I opened up to him about some of the things that I wanted.

To avoid any more digression, I’ll leave it at this: I wanted to be encouraged to endure the pain Sir gives me and not just safeword on the first instinct. Because I wanted to deepen my submission to Sir, and because he enjoys inflicting pain, I wanted to get better at taking this pain.

So, I let him cane me. To make sure I would be able to handle the pain and as a preemptive reward for doing it, Sir allowed me to have Mr. Purple on in my pussy. 

First, he started caning me. The first hit was unexpectedly painful – I’d never been caned before – and I cried out. He worked his way up, spacing out his hits, checking in with me while I squirmed and shrieked.

Next, he moved over to his set of floggers and crops and returned with a new toy that he had made. It was leather and consisted of two thick tails, an impossibly threatening and mean-looking tool he waved with a smirk. “It’s called a tawse,” he explained, “they used to use these to punish schoolboys.”

I could only take two hits before I was screaming, and Sir switched over to the strap before returning to using the cane. Strangely, the hits stopped hurting and were instead just a series of thuds that almost felt kind of good. My cries subsided into moans. “Are you hitting gentler, Sir?” I asked.

“No,” he replied, “that’s just the endorphins.” When we finished, he held me and told me how proud he was. And, honestly, I was pretty damn proud of myself.

Still, for the whole ordeal, the marks were still gone by that evening.  

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nankingdecade:

She fancies herself a Baroness.

Nuh uh. I’m a princess.

Duhhhh.

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The Adventures of Sir, Sweetheart and Mr. Purple, Part Two

“But, Sweetheart,” Sir said, chuckling as I slipped my panties down and spread my legs. “It’s supposed to go in your butt.”

I pouted and shook my head, “it’s too big. I want to feel it in my pussy.” Maybe it wasn’t the biggest, it wasn’t more than half of an inch thicker than my buttplug. But, it was long and curved and looked a little threatening. And, worst of all, it vibrated. On ten different speeds. TEN OF THEM.

Sir leaned down between my legs and started to tease my pussy with his fingers so that I would be wet enough to take the toy. I shivered, excited and thrilled to be touched by him again after so long. When I had gotten wet enough, he eased the vibrator into my pussy.

Slowly, he took me through the speeds. One after the other, I felt myself slipping closer to orgasm, then jumping a bit from a few with some abrupt speeds, then settling in as he left it on at a consistent hum.

“Baby,” he teased, “look what you’ve done. You’ve leaked right out onto my sheet.”

I blushed and reached up to cover my face.