My Fun Weekend

Friday Sir messages me that He's having a bad day.  Luckily, He does this early enough in the day that I can prepare... I hop in the shower, come out and tidy the apartment.  I roll a joint and put a glass in the freezer to chill.  I put on stockings, over-the-knee boots and a red satin corset.  I do my makeup and lay out clothing for Sir to change in to from His work clothing.  Dinner goes in the oven and all of the prep work gets done so that I can provide for Sir without delay.

As His key enters the lock, I prostrate myself in the living room.  Ass in the air, forehead to the floor.  A chuckle.  A sign that already the week's stresses are fading away.  

Whiskey is poured.  The joint is smoked.  The rope comes out.  Sir confesses that He has no plan, which is fine by me.  I love these spontaneous moments where the focus is on each other, and not a specific 'tie'.  My wrists are secured behind my back, and the rope winds around my body, between my legs, between my teeth, immobilizing my head.  While my legs are free, I am essentially trapped - a pretty piece of living sculpture.  

While I have been living with Alastair, my sex drive has been lacking.  OK, I lie... my sex drive hasn't, but my ability to orgasm has decreased as Alastair has romped through my head like an ill-behaved toddler at a playground.  Since I have been living with LD, this ability and desire has returned. As I sit with my legs spread, trussed up like a Thanksgiving Turkey, Sir turns on the vibrator.

At this point, Dear Readers, I can't really describe more... I'm told there were 6 orgasms, and I went to bed with a sore throat, feeling rather hoarse.  Somewhere in there I managed to feed Sir dinner.  

Most importantly though, I improved His mood.

Well, it's official

I am now LD's full-time bitch.  Everything is moved in.  Dear Husband who? Did I have a home elsewhere? 

Oh yes... it's where all of those forgotten things are...

Will update more tomorrow... I *promise*

My Master...

... is never any crueler than He knows I can handle

... can see through my doubts and fears and push me further than I think I can go

... tucks me in to bed and holds me until I fall asleep

Mea Culpa

I seem to be spending a lot of time apologizing to you all, Dear Readers... Alastair had me hostage yesterday.  I've finally broken free temporarily to write to you all!

It occurs to me, as I sit here, that my sex life has become... routine... plentiful, yes, but actually bordering a little on vanilla... Sure we have a ton of sex (fuck LD can go on FOREVER... envy me girls) but ever since Alastair has become more of a pain in the.. head.. LD has been coddling me a little more... we haven't been playing as much... and as much as I appreciate it and know that He's doing it because He loves me and is trying to take care of me... it's starting to make me a little cranky. And giving me a dearth of writing material for the blog...

As I sit here, I'm starting on 2 week away from LD, as part of the grand experiment where we prove once and for all if my house with DH is causing Alastair... I'm spending as much time as possible in the house for the next 2 weeks, and then living with LD for 6 weeks after that.  If it really IS the house, and not a placebo effect, I should be migraine free for about 4 - 5 of those 6 weeks.

and let this be official notice to You, Master: I expect a lot of fucking play.  Hell, at this point, migraine or no migraine, I need some dirty nasty degrading one-step-past-the-edge play...

This weekend was a good first step...

LD and I went for a long walk on Saturday, and one our way out, discovered a stairwell to the parking garage of the new condo complex being constructed next door.  I'm sure you can all picture it... full of garbage, abandoned for all intense and purposes... and on Sunday night, under the cover of darkness, home to one piggy slut on her knees sucking off her Master.  Once finished, He made me crawl up the dirty concrete steps, surrounded by coffee cups and discarded bits of chain link fence and other random refuse.. and then down the last few steps (the stairwell is raised, so to get to the parking garage you climb up 4 steps before going down a flight of them)... then along the scaffolding leading out of the construction site... and then got a few lovely swats to the ass once standing, while loudly proclaiming my ownership (to the delight of the guy walking to his car who was in the right place at the right time)...

It was long overdue, and the scraped up hands and knees were well worth it, and continues to be a lovely reminder of this last weekend.

More Lessons Learned

Three things I learned this weekend that I DIDN'T know...

1. I am capable of holding a full bladder and enema, while being fucked, and orgasming, without spilling a single drop

2. The muscle movements required for an orgasm are diametrically opposed to the muscle action required to hold in a vast quantity of liquid in ones bowels and bladder

3. Conflicting muscle movements make for unsatisfactory orgasms

Lessons Learned

Five things that I *knew* but apparently had to *relearn* over the weekend:

1. Enemas, while pleasant and enjoyable and erotic while going in, is like the worst case of the shits coming out... over the course of the next 24 hours (note, this is especially true if while holding said enema, someone is fucking you vigorously, forcing the liquid higher up than it might go otherwise)

2. Ciabatta Baguette and Butter is one of the few foods that SOUNDS appetizing when I have no appetite and am feeling waves of nausea

3. Ciabatta Baguette and Butter is one of the WORST foods I can eat - it only makes me feel violently nauseous and weak, just like all other food.  IT IS NOT AN EXCEPTION!

4. Pleading with LD to abstain from enema play while the rest of my GI tract is rebelling, is only incentive for Him to decide all the more to do so - He likes it when I'm weak and subservient from feeling ill

5. I do not do my best cooking while feeling ill, and should not attempt 'complicated' meals when I have spent most of the day sleeping due to said illness.

A Rant...

When did polyamory fall out of favour?

"Back in the day" it was perfectly normal for people to date a number of people concurrently - teens didn't rush in to 'exclusive' relationships.  Look at the Archie/Betty/Veronica love triangle.  A good commentary on how society is changing is the simple fact that just recently they made Archie choose one over the other.  None of this 'loving two girls' crap anymore.

These days, a girl who chooses to date more than one person at a time is viewed as somehow dishonest, or a tramp.  I'm not talking about single girls who have strings of first dates, with the occasional second date thrown in.  It seems that if a person is interested in someone past a second date, you've immediately entered in to an unspoken exclusive relationship... it's not kosher to be casually dating more than one guy at a time.  This isn't Free Love Movement stuff either - it was far more mainstream... much as it was common to refer to your girlfriend as your 'baby' or 'little girl' or other terms that are now considered patronizing and condescending and not-at-all-PC.

Mind you, once you made a commitment and got married you were stuck in monogamy... so it's not like there was ever a time where I wouldn't have had to be careful around other people about mentioning DH when I'm with LD and LD when I'm with DH...

but wouldn't it be nice?

I suppose if we were all hippies and lived on one big commune people wouldn't look twice at my many lovers...  but sadly I will never live in a world where I can be free and open about my relationships.

It's a good thing I've gotten very good at censoring my references to having a husband, or a lover...

Congratulations are in order!

So about 7 million years ago, LD and I bought a Big Red Buttplug. I would say that at its widest point, it is slightly larger than the diameter of the average wrist. Those of you who are petite women, this butt plug is probably about the size of your fist at its widest point (I'm thinking of one of you in particular ;)

This thing is ... big

We purchased this plug because we had to replace my old plug. It's a very sad story.

Back in the paleolithic era (or, my first year of university), I was overcome with joy - living on my own meant that I could finally own sex toys! It's not that I had an insane fear of them being discovered... I just lived in a small town and had nowhere to purchase them. One of my very first purchases was a butt plug. Not just any butt plug... as an avid anal whore even from a young and tender age, I bypassed 'small' and 'medium' and purchased what was described as a 'large' butt plug off of the Come As You Are website.

That's right Dear Readers - I purchased a 'large' buttplug, sight unseen, as my very first anal toy.

I must be a fucking prodigy, because that baby slipped right in no problem and we were faithful friends for ever more. Until recently.

Sadly, My First Buttplug was made of latex, and was constructed as a hollow form which was then filled with more latex, and through years and years of use, the inner part had come undone from the outer shell.... this meant that lube and santorum and all sorts of unsanitary things were getting in to the inside of the plug and it really couldn't be cleaned properly. My baby had to be thrown out.

So fast forward to 7 million years ago when Sir decided it was time to upgrade. Let's just say that the Big Red Buttplug is probably twice the size of my old 'large' one. It does not slide in easily. In fact, it does not 'slide' in at all.

Until last night.

After a number of play sessions where we have attempted to coax my derrière in to accommodating this behemoth, my ass has finally succumb to my Master's will.

Strangely enough, I am less sore today - after having gotten this huge thing all the way in to my ass... and then out again - than I have been after previous play sessions where we weren't able to get it in. I suppose it won't be too long now before I can give the goatse man a run for his money.

Kinky Camping... Not My Thing

Because I'm just as important and famous in the Real World as I am online, I was given 2 free daypasses to my local communities kinky camping event.  This is a long-weekend (set up Thurs evening, leave Sunday) set up in the middle of nowhere on some private property where people can run around naked, having sex and flogging each other in the great outdoors.  There are workshops during the day, play parties at night, and a few vendors selling their wares.

LD and I drove down on Saturday to see what things are all about.

We'll skip over the part where getting LD out of bed is almost impossible... it finally took the ultimatum of "if You don't get out of bed now, we won't get to see any of the workshops and then we might as well just stay home".

Finally in the car only 15 minutes late, Sir's GPS informs us that the drive is an hour longer than we had estimated last night.  Taking a deep 'zen' breath, I just let things go and decided I was going to enjoy a day out with my Sir no matter what happened.

Good thing too.

3 hours (and some stop and go traffic) later, we arrived.  Wandering in to some of the in-progress workshops, we quickly realized that the '201 and 301' level workshops that were promised were definitely closer to 101 level... maybe slightly higher but not much.  It was apparent that these workshops were merely a way for the people who weren't sleeping until 3pm to stay occupied, and weren't *really* meant for education.  There were a lot of 'round table' discussions, or 'mutual admiration society meetings'...  Neither of us learned anything new at the workshops we stood in on.  It also appeared that many of the original presenters were... hungover? skipping out?  I think we only saw one workshop being hosted by the person advertised to be hosting.  

The highlights of the day included:

Walking around the entire day on the end of Sir's leash

Buying a wonderfully thuddy toy with which I'm certain LD can beat me as long and hard as he likes and I would not have to call a safeword

I think that kinky camping would be enjoyable if you *liked* camping and went with a group of friends for the social aspect...  I'm not sure I'd want to play too much, just because of the heat... and the workshops are definitely not worth it.

Saturday continued to be wonderful after we got home... I made dinner, got plastered on margaritas, and woke up the next morning feeling black and blue from pubic bone to tail bone.  Later found out that Sir had kicked me in the cunt 3 times while I was crawling on the floor, and we then did a session with the Very Large Buttplug (still can't get it in, still sore from our attempt).

Sunday ended up being a lovely day of staying in, lazing about and having sex... I sucked Sir for about 2 hours before we got out of bed, He fisted me again and just in general spent the day fucking and sucking.  

Overall a truly excellent weekend, though today I am sore and achy all over.

How was your weekend Dear Readers?

Piss Whore

I have been really obsessed with piss lately Dear Readers - it's really been getting me off lately... Not sure why, 'cause it's never been a really super big kink of mine, but something about it is just doing it for me.

This weekend, LD and I were fucking, and I guess he was putting just the right amount of pressure on my bladder because I felt like I was about to burst.  He dragged me to the bathroom and stuck me in the bathtub and told me to piss myself.  Between performance anxiety and the sudden lack of pressure on my bladder (plus non-gravitationally-advantageous positioning) I barely managed to piss anything, but LD was most helpful and bathed me in his own from head to toe.  Even thinking about it now gets me hot.

Continuing with this sudden obsession was a dream that I had last night, that was so hot I woke up and had to jerk off afterwards.

Sir and I were at one of the many street festivals going on in the city...  soon after arriving, He takes me to the closest drug store and grabs a package of adult diapers.  While at the checkout, He asks the cashier if there's a washroom that can be used.  The cashier obviously thinks that He is asking for Himself and gives Him directions.  Sir picks up the package, hands them to me and informs me, in front of the cashier, that I heard where the washrooms were and to go and put one on.  Red faced, I do as He asks, barely managing to pull my short skirt down low enough that I'm not flashing the world my new diaper.

The rest of the package stowed in my shoulder bag, we wander the street festival.  Sir knows how easily I'm dehydrated and keeps plying me with liquids until I am absolutely ready to burst.  I ask if we can sit down for a minute.  Sir asks if I'm tired and why I want to sit down, and I inform him quietly that it's because I need to pee.  He pulls me in to a hug, surreptitiously grabbing my cunt through my diaper and speaks directly in to my ear "if you need to pee, you can do so standing right here in this crowd of strangers"  He starts massaging my cunt and I start to pee a little.  I ask if I may cum "only if you're quiet, piggy"

I orgasm while pissing myself; standing in a crowd of strangers.  

Now wet and soggy, Sir makes me continue to walk around in a wet diaper until we find washroom facilities where I can change.  I am informed that I will be diapered the entire weekend, and that He has big plans for me.  We continue enjoying the festival - I have to piss myself once more and Sir makes me travel home in the wet diaper.

At home and changed in to a clean diaper once more, Sir informs me that we will be going out for dinner the next evening.  Fast forward (as dreams are only capable of doing) and we are sitting in a *very* nice restaurant.  I don't recognize it as being something that actually exists, it's just a generic "fancy" restaurant.  I am sitting across from Sir all dressed up, including a diaper.  Prior to going for dinner, Sir had made me drink a litre of water, and has ordered me not to pee until He's ordered me to.  Dinner is a long, drawn out affair with multiple courses, wine, and lots of water.  I'm fidgeting and feeling like I'm about to burst.  Sir seems to be enjoying the show, and reminds me quietly that I am absolutely not allowed to pee until He says so.

Partway through the main course, He tells me that I may pee, but only enough that I do not feel painful urgency - I should still feel uncomfortable though.  Only peeing a little bit when you *really* have to go is one of the most difficult things in the world, and leaves you feeling even more uncomfortable than if you'd just held it.  Sir can see that on my face and chuckles at my expression, then offers me another glass of water. During dessert He allows me to pee a little bit more, and plys me with more liquids.

After dinner, me feeling very soggy, Sir takes me home.  While I am kneeling with my forehead pressed to the floor, I can hear Sir moving around the apartment and making preparations.  Finally, he comes and gets me, brings me in to the bedroom and lays me down on the bed... which I notice is decked out in a plastic drop cloth.  Sir grabs the lube and before I know it, His cock is in my ass.  At this point I urgently need to pee, and I wait for the thrusting to begin.  However.. it doesn't... instead, I feel this intense warmth... He is pissing in my ass, emptying His own *very full* bladder.  He looks at me as He finishes and says "I'm pulling out, and I don't want you to spill a drop".  I nod my assent.  Pulling out, He replaces His cock with our very large buttplug.  Ass full of piss, bladder full of piss, Sir then starts fucking me in earnest, pounding in and out of my cunt, making me moan with the need to piss.  After what seems like an eternity of fucking, Sir cums inside of me.  He pulls out and tells me that He's going to remove the buttplug, but I still musn't spill any.  Lying on my back with my legs over my head, He pulls out the buttplug.  He spends some time touching and caressing me, and then tells me that I  may empty myself.  Looking at Him in humiliation, I let myself go - piss pouring out of my ass and bladder, running down my body and soaking me in our mixed fluids (and yes, I realize that in real life a piss enema wouldn't be nearly as clean as it was in my dream, though I suppose if I'd been given a regular enema before hand...).  Finally, after what seems like forever, I'm empty and lying in a puddle of piss.  Sir smiles and leaves.  

At this point I woke up extremely hot and horny... I can only assume that there was cleaning up and whatnot afterwards, but regardless I am incredibly turned on by this "new" fetish of mine... I hope You took notes Sir!

An Ode to LD

I figure fair is fair... I mean, I'm MARRIED to DH, but I CHOOSE to be with LD, because...

... He puts me in my place in the most delicious ways

... He takes such excellent care of me

... He's endearingly funny when He's talking in His sleep

... He's got this pair of jeans that make my mouth water

... He plays my body like the musician He is, and makes me sing

... He's a musician ;)

... When he goes in to teacher mode, He gets me all hot and bothered, AND I end up learning something new

... He puts up with my idiosyncrasies with fond exasperation

... I make Him laugh... though I often think He's laughing AT me...

... I know that I can trust Him with my very life

... He's one of those helpless men that I seem to attract (I'm still not sure how He survived before I came in to His life)

... The sex is phenomenal

... He takes my breath away

... He is my Sir and Master 

I was tricked!

Remember that 'best of craigslist' ad I posted about the guy looking for the slave to help him move?  I think that might have been LD posting...  Yesterday we moved from one tower of His condo building to the other, and as feeble and crippled as I am, I'm completely wiped out.

Yesterday I was in so much pain I didn't manage to fall asleep until 5am... 1 hour before my alarm was set to go off.  Sleep deprivation and driving don't mix, so I called in sick...

and then being the a-type anal retentive slave that I am, I went over to the old place, gathered all of the last bits and bobs, cleaned the old place, brought up the coffee table from my car and have spent the day unpacking... I have 5 boxes left.

Needless to say, I'm taking a sleeping pill at about 5pm and possibly mixing it with some weed and alcohol to make sure it does the job.  Comatose is as good as sleep, right?

Finding the Edge...

A Note from RB: So today is the close of Rubenesque Brunette's Big Bad Boost Readership Contest(tm) and the winner is... no one... I didn't get a single entry... I am going to sink in to a deep pit of despair and turn in to emo-RB...  or I can just announce a new contest tomorrow!

LD and I are both very much in to edge play...  rape play, breath play, degredation, blood, hard S&M, etc...  Normally none of this stuff phases me - I love it all.  what is "going too far" to some people is "just enough" for us. 

Except that we found a new edge for me this weekend.

As I mentioned last week, there were some turbulent waters for the SS Le Dom, and Friday night was 'punishment night'...  After being tied to the wall, blindfolded and gagged, LD informed me that He was going to cut me and leave me with a scar that would remind me for years of the lesson I had learned.  As He had been tying me up, I had watched Him take a wicked knife out of His toolbox and go about sharpening it and sterilizing it, so I had an idea that there would be some cutting involved, but I didn't think He would cut me so deep as to scar me.

I completely fell apart.

Tied to the wall, unable to even hold my own weight up, I clung to Him and shrieked in terror as I waited for Him to mark me.  I won't lie - there were a few moments when I was very tempted to call red, but I put my trust in LD a while ago, and I vowed that I would "walk the walk" so to speak.

In the end, LD didn't scar me... didn't even draw blood... 

I am still sore from the beating I took while up on the wall - spending the weekend packing for todays' move didn't exactly help with my recovery...  I went to bed shivering from shock and completely mindless... still lightheaded and dizzy from the breathplay that followed after being taken down off of the wall...  and trust me, Dear Readers, I have learned my lesson.

Here are a few of these important lessons that I learned this weekend. LD is always telling me to look for the joy in life, so I suppose these are a few small bits of 'joy'...

• I can truly trust this man with my very life and body.  Saturday morning I asked Him if He had actually meant to scar me - His response was "yes, but in the end the thought of being cut and scarred seemed to terrify you enough, so I didn't"  
• This man can find my edges, and even when I am completely falling apart and unable to articulate, He keeps me from falling over that edge and keeps me safe.
• I will never, ever disrespect Him or our relationship again
• Knife play, while theoretically hot, actually terrifies me for some reason.  This is odd because I play with knives in the kitchen all of the time, I cut myself all of the time, and honestly Him cutting me as He has planned wouldn't have hurt worse than my tattoo or piercings... yet for some reason I completely fell apart.
• I will *always* associate that wicked knife with punishment.  It is so difficult to find something to 'punish' someone with when they like everything.  We've found something that I decidedly don't like (more than I don't like the dragon tail)

I promise to post something more funny tomorrow, honest!

Torture Garden

So sorry I missed you all at Torture Garden... I managed to say hello to some people I recognized, but dee, etc - we should have made more definite plans than "I'm sure we'll manage to bump in to each other" ...

 

That and we sort of got bored and left around 1am... 

 

You see Dear Readers, it seems that LD and I never learn - we've yet to go to a play party with a dance floor and not leave bored.  We've got a few things going against us.  First of all, LD is from Montreal, where the scene is quite different... from what I understand, Toronto is quite tame in comparison.  I don't think that LD has yet to see anything in Toronto which has impressed Him, and His idea of 'tame' doesn't always jive with the community here (which can get us in trouble).  Also, we don't really dance. Finally, when we go to a play party, it's to.. you know... play...

 

So you end up with an event like Torture Garden, which is hailed as this long weekend extravaganza of kink and bad-assery, and except for the small section of play space (5 pieces of equipment and a second small section for non-equipment play) is essentially just a dance club with costumes.  The Torture Garden website had a very short list of rules for the dungeon, which boiled down to - no genital penetration, no breathplay, no fire play - we thought we were set to be able to have this big crazy hardcore scene.  Arriving at the entrance to the play space, there was a list of rules longer than the commandments. Dudes, when even GOD is less restrictive, you've got problems.

 

and so did we... one of the rules was "no genital nudity" ... I was wearing a very small lace dress without panties.  While LD did try to insert some ginger, which was clearly a no-no (bad LD!), at one point my skirt got hiked up and he grabbed me by the crotch, which apparently counted as nudity, or penetration, or both, and the DM kicked us out of the dungeon.

 

Let's ignore the fact that LD was pressed up right against me and it was dark - the DM must have been keeping a really close eye on us to notice that my skirt was hiked up enough for my cunt to be uncovered.  Let's ignore the fact that because LD was pressed up so close to me, no one could see anything.  Oh well, live and learn.  I was mildly ticked off on the way home that LD had gotten us kicked out of the dungeon - I HAD pointed out the 'no genital nudity' rule, as well as the 'no penetration' rule a couple of times prior to the start of our scene.  Once the rope starts going on me, I go in to la-la land pretty quickly and honestly didn't realize we had done anything wrong or were being kicked out until LD ended the scene early.

 

Once we left the dungeon area and descended into the throng of dancers once more, we didn't stay long.  Are we so jaded and "been there, seen that" that men flying through the air, suspended by hooks in their flesh, and women fellating squid just aren't titillating enough for us?  Around 1am we decided to leave, and that's when (sadly) I got my biggest (and only) bruise of the evening.

 

On our way out of the club, LD still had me on my leash.  As He tugged me towards the door, a Domme in red latex decided she wanted to go to the second floor, via the staircase that was on the other side of my leash.

 

Can you see where this is going Dear Readers?  

 

Despite a number of panicked cries of "EXCUSE ME", and attempted to grab at her, she plowed right through the leash.  Me on my sky-high heels on the uneven floor never stood a chance.  Down I went.  Flailing madly, the leash partly caught my fall, but left quite the impressive bruise on the underside of my left arm.  

 

I think that the lesson that LD and I have learned, is to avoid play parties that feature a DJ and dance floor as a main attraction (TG, subspace, etc).  They are clearly not organized with play as the focus, and as fun as people watching and gazing at the fetwear can be... we're just not Stand and Model.

 

Even at the parties that are more play focussed (i.e. K4P), I leave feeling that we could have had a much more satisfying 'scene' if we had stayed at home.  LD and I are just too much in to kinks and activities that are verboten at public events... breathplay and penetration as a couple of examples.

 

I woke up Sunday morning with some welts on my ass that have long faded, a big purple bruise on my arm, and resolve that next play party we attend should be in Montreal.

 

Perhaps with a more permissive community, and some advanced discussion with the organizer, we can have a truly satisfying public scene.

 

 

A purge...

I have a confession to make Dear Readers...  I've faked orgasms.

The women amongst you all are rolling your eyes and saying "yeah, so what? we all have" ...  here's the thing though...

I faked them with Him.

It started innocently enough...  we all do it to spare the feelings of the guy we're with... or we're done and just want things to end... or want to give them an ego boost... or about 700 other reasons...  I don't remember why I did it the first time, but I did it without a second thought.  Over these past few months, it just became a habit.  It is *so* difficult for me to cum sometimes, and my desire to please Him overrode any guilt that I felt.  Sometimes I would fake them so that I could cum 'on command' ... sometimes I'd fake them because it would help trigger an actual orgasm... sometimes I wasn't sure if I was faking them or not - it felt good, but it wasn't a full orgasm... that's close enough though, right?

then I took His collar, and started thinking about ownership, and the level of commitment and transparency and honesty that we will require to achieve our goals... and the guilt hit me like a ton of bricks.  Ever the chicken, while He was in New York this past week I confessed to my misdeed along with a long list of other more 'fun' confessions.

Fast forward to Friday night... I'm feeling like crap and despite my efforts to dress pretty and actually put on makeup, I am transparent (as always) to Him and He can tell that I just want to curl up and go back to sleep.  After our enthusiastic 'hello's, He has me stand against the wall and lifts my skirt.  A few blows rain down on my ass, along with the admonishment that I was to never fake another orgasm again. Agreeing wholeheartedly, our evening continued without further comment and in the back of my mind all I could think of was "that was it? I got off easy, this isn't right".

The rest of the weekend was a drug and migraine induced haze.  I literally slept the entire weekend away, being almost completely useless to Him.  Sunday afternoon, after 48 hours of sleep, I was feeling slightly more human... human enough to actually feel aroused.  Upon communicating this news to Him, He made it very clear that was going to have to wait... and that in fact I was not allowed to orgasm until the next time I was in his arms... that I had to learn to appreciate my orgasms.  Flipping me face down on to the bed, He went and got the Big Cane.  

It is now almost 24 hours later and my ass hurts as much as it did when He finished.  It hurts to stand, it hurts to walk, it hurts to sit...  it hurts so much it actually woke me up at 5:30 this morning and it hurts even to lie on my stomach.  

So far, there isn't a single bruise.

I bawled my eyes out - not from the pain... He's beaten me harder... but from the shame, and the guilt and the regret and remorse.  I cried because I lied to Him each and every time that I opened my mouth and screamed when I shouldn't have.  I cried because He couldn't tell when I was faking it.  I cried because I had disappointed Him and deceived Him.  I cried because I felt like a bad slave.  Clinging to Him afterwards,  He told me that I was forgiven.  He held me while I regained my equilibrium, and then we went to shower.  He seemed so cold and distant in the shower - I could tell that He was still thinking of my transgressions... I assume He was still upset.  After I had cleaned Him, He left me alone in the shower to take care of myself and I cried some more.

Composing myself, I finished showering and got ready to leave.  He repeated to me that He had forgiven me, and that He owned me... and that owning me is absolute - He doesn't just own the good parts.  He owns my mistakes.  He owns the responsibility to fix those mistakes.  He owns the bad parts of me as well as the good.  

Pretty words.

As I've mentioned previously, I do not take failure well.  I have spent the last 24 hours going over and over why I did this.. why I CONTINUED to do this...  how I could hurt my Master with such a deceit, and how he could forgive me...

As you can all tell, Dear Readers, I have not forgiven myself yet.  We all know how well I deal with failure, and now that the severity of the situation has set in I'm baffled as to how I went so long faking orgasms without it being painfully obvious from the guilt I was feeling.  I have no clue how to go about getting over this and moving on.  Every time I start to feel the slightest bit aroused, I remember my fuck up and I dry up like the Sahara... I'll have no problems waiting to orgasm, and even once I'm allowed to again, I'm not sure I'll be able to!

Master said that He's proud of me for confessing and owning up to my misdeeds... but I can't help but feel like I've started this collaring off on the wrong foot. I don't know what to say or think or do to help me forgive myself.  I think that part of me doesn't really believe that I'm forgiven.  Part of me is still berating myself for being so stupid.  Part of me is still crying for having hurt Him.

I'm sorry Master.  I know that I've said it a million times, but I thought that purging it all out on to the blog... making my shame and apology public... might help me sort through my feelings and come to acceptance.

it hasn't.

An Announcement...

On April 3rd, 2010, I accepted LDs collar and have become His slave.  We are, as always, a work in progress and to me this collar symbolizes not just a commitment to future development together, but a tangible sign of how deep our relationship has developed.  

Yes, I realize that this is rather quick (4 months Ladies and Gentlemen), but my previously angst filled posts helped me to organize my thoughts and feelings, and the moment I looked in to His eyes and felt Him enter me and claim me after his trip...  it just felt right.  To be honest, the collaring was not planned.  I had decided to tell Him that weekend that I would like to accept His collar in August, when we are able to be fluid bonded... but i just couldn't wait, which is funny because normally I'm a very patient girl... 

so there we have it, Dear Readers!  This blog will no doubt take another turn in content, as I chronicle His attempts at training me, and the challenges that we run in to with that...

Spending too much time in my own head...

Have you missed me Dear Readers?  I've been quiet lately, haven't I?

Almost makes you wish fondly for the angst filled days of bad one night stands, eh?  Too bad sex with LD is so good, otherwise I'd have more stories for you ;)  maybe I'll try to be more diligent in posting some of our hotter scenes...

Lately I've been thinking a lot of commitment, and collars, and emotions.  In the past couple of weeks the 'L' word has shown its head and thrown me in to an existential whirlwind.   How do you know that it's love? Can one develop love that quickly? LD and I have been dating for 4 months... mind you we've spent quite a bit of time together (most of the weekends, plus one evening a week) and we chat almost every day... I don't remember how long DH and I were dating before we said we loved one another...  it was within the first year... and the weather was still warm so I'm guessing within the first 6 months, but I don't remember exactly... I certainly have been missing Him the same way I miss DH when he's gone... 

But at the same time, I still put in that effort to appear 'perfect' when I spend time with Him... I don't bring my nightguard when I spend the night... I despair about my complexion and how hairy I am and whether my hair looks good...  is that how you define love? When you no longer try to hide the 'unsexy' parts of you?  Laying yourself bare for them to see and saying "I am as far from perfect as a person can get.  Love me, not the illusion I wear every day"

This brings me to the question of commitment... collars and fluid bonding and all that... How well do I feel I have to know Him to take that plunge?  I'm sure that there are deep dark secrets that I don't know (and likewise I'm sure there's stuff He doesn't know about me).  Despite our rocky start, I'd say that there's a lot of trust that's developed... I have His keys while He's gone, I've been helping Him with His personal filing and have access to all sorts of personal information (not that I've looked).  But how much better do I have to know Him?  I suppose it depends on our definition of 'collaring' ...  Complete and total ownership... 24/7 (or as close as it can get)  utter, absolute ownership to me is akin to marriage... it's a very serious commitment which I know that I am not ready for.  It took 5 years for DH and I to get married! (though we knew were were going to get married long before that... it was at LEAST a year though, maybe 2)... a lesser level of collaring/ownership? I might be prepared to make that vow... I suppose this requires some in depth discussion between LD and I as to what we both are looking for and what we expect.  As for fluid bonding, due to some medical issues that's off the table until August... that is *definitely* something I'm looking forward to.  

I don't know that this rambling has really helped me sort out my thoughts or come to any great conclusions...  I do know that the thought of not having LD in my life is painful though, so maybe that's indication enough?

Gifts

I am crap at giving gifts.  

Let me clarify...  it's the "occasion" gifts that frustrate me.  Run of the mill Birthday/Christmas/etc gifts for those I care about make me want to curl into a ball and suck my thumb until the whole thing passes me by.

See the thing is... I give gifts alllll of the time.  I'm one of those people who will buy a new pen for their stationary-supply-crazed coworker because I saw it and thought she'd like it.  I pack a bag full of low-carb-healthy-airplane-friendly-tasty snacks for LD's 60 hours of travel time for His flight to Bali, because i know He dislikes airplane food.  I buy treats for DH every time I go grocery shopping, or make his favourite foods even though they're not to my liking... I bring cookies to work on Mondays. I like to show people that I love and appreciate them *every* day... not just on days society says are special. (wow, this makes me sound like some sort of Suzy Sunshine)  

I also feel that "major gifts" should be occasions on their own.  You don't propose to someone for their birthday... a proposal should be its own special event.  Going to collar me? Fluid bond? These aren't 'gifts' that should piggy back on to a holiday... that's just cheating and it overshadows the occasion that you're supposed to be celebrating.

So that leaves me stumped when it comes to 'occasion' gifts...  DH and I don't exchange gifts, so that makes things easy, but LDs birthday is coming up in the beginning of April... and I have no. clue. what. to. do.

How do I think of something that is *more* meaningful than my every day displays of affection and appreciation, but not so meaningful that it overshadows the occasion that we're celebrating?  I shun most material gifts... I mean... it just seems so trivial to give a CD box set or new clothing or anything like that.  He can get all of that stuff himself... I want to give him something special, meaningful, that can only come from me...

This makes me sound like a hippy, but I'm not materialistic.. I'm all about the experiences man, not the stuff.

Sometimes I wish I weren't such a slut... if I'd been holding back sexual practices or kinks, I'd have something to give, ya?  How can I give more of *me* when I already give all that I'm able to?  If I were to give any more, I'd be entering that "overshadowing the occasion" territory.

I'm stumped Dear Readers... I need ideas.. your thoughts on gifts..  what do YOU do for your loved ones (if you still exchange gifts)?  What can I do for LD? (Sir, please do not read any comments so as not to spoil any surprises)

While the cat's away...

so LD is in Bali until April 1st... I woke up at 4:30 on Saturday to get him to the airport as comfortably as is possible at 6am on a Saturday.  Woke up at 4:45am on Sunday when he texted me from Seoul to confirm the 2nd leg of his flight had gone smoothly.  Woke up this morning at 7:30, rolled out of bed, got ready for work, arrived at work and realized...

I didn't put on any makeup.  It never even occurred to me.  I had thought that after all of this time (3 months? 4 months? wow, that long already?) I had gotten in to the habit of wearing makeup every day.  I certainly put some on yesterday for my birthday party...  But this morning, barely 48 hours after LD had left Toronto, I had reverted back to my original 'au natural' look.  

Looking in the mirror at work though... I feel ugly... I feel the urge to dive in to my emergency supply of 'touch up' makeup in my purse.  I still feel like I'm wearing a mask though when I put on a full face of cosmetics.  How can I live in this aesthetic purgatory? I feel ugly without makeup, but I feel like an impostor while wearing it? Where does that leave me?  A girl should not have an existential identity crisis over a pile of prettily coloured chemicals.  

I'm going to take the next 2 weeks off from 'putting on my face' and try to look at it as a cosmetic vacation.  This will probably be just enough time for me to get used to myself without makeup again and make it all the more difficult to go back to wearing it when LD returns.  I'll cross that bridge when I arrive at it.

In the meantime, maybe I'll go get a facial and pray that my complexion will settle down while he's gone.

One person's good time is another person's worst nightmare...

As I lay on his couch, my legs braced over the arm in order to fuck myself vigorously on the big black dildo in my ass, my fingers and vibrator teasing myself as I race to completion, His cock deep down my throat as I moan and scream around it, I found myself thinking "yaknow, I'd love to do some humiliation play... I should suggest it to Sir" ... and then my mind wandered, as it tends to do... and it fell on to our discussion about His previous vanilla girlfriend... and how she would probably NOT consider our tame Sunday afternoon to be all that tame... and probably more than a little humiliating...

her loss.