Spoiled Rotten Little Bitch

Things Master has bought for me in the last two weeks.

Rock Chick Vibrator (My advice? Buy one. Now. )

Bondage Rope (works better than Home Depots rope selection, but I’m still lusting over some Twisted Monk.)

Glass Dildo (It came with this gloriously luxuriously padded, velvet sleeve. And it has a twirly pattern on the dildo part that feels fucking incredible.)

Thumb cuffs (not yet used. I’m sure I will love/hate them.)

Corset (umm.. *really* hard to breathe in this.)

Leather and Chain set (I’m wearing this tonight (I think). I was supposed to wear it to last weekend’s play party but it didn’t come in the mail in time. I was disappointed because He wanted me to wear it, but I wasn’t disappointed that I didn’t have to walk around in front of relative strangers in it. No matter though, because He made me get naked and tied up anyway.)

Leather Bra (Haven’t worn it yet)

Lightweight Leather Collar (love it. It’s so much better than the thick, heavy rubber one and ’classier’ than the dog choker chain that is usually padlocked around my neck, yet more visible than my everyday slave bell necklace. Perfect for a night out at the play party)

A new crop, heartshaped (It has a wicked metal rod that should be illegal to make crops from). He replaced the black nipple clamps that were broken during one rough fuck a few weeks ago (the ones that He brainwashed me into believing are my favorite clamps), and a drool-encouraging, hole-filled, purple plastic bit gag. (He has a gag fetish. I dont get it. I’m quiet as a church mouse!)

And these three things from lingeriediva.com (that won’t make a link for some reason).

(Sadly, I do not look like those girls when I wear them.)

I shall not, from this moment on, ever say that He does not spoil me rotten. Clearly He does.

And I love it. *beams*

So last weekend was the play party, as I said. I just cannot stress enough how much I enjoy this group.

I watched an incredibly erotic scene between two men and two women where the one girl was bound and then suspended while the two men simultaneously fucked her mouth and pussy and the other woman worked her nipples and manned the Hitachi.

It was fucking HOT. H-O-T. It’s so rare to bring the sexual, sensual aspect out, especially in a living room with spectators sitting around. I couldn’t take my eyes off. And jealous? You betcha!

A bit later, when they’d finished and another scene had finished, I got to be suspended for the first time. It was pretty great, I have to say. Scary and a bit painful, and nobody stuck a dick in my mouth (sad face), but I did have a beautiful girl sucking on my nipples and making me orgasm in front of everyone with the Hitachi. (blush – I tend to keep my orgasms rather private affairs, but there is no resisting a Hitachi, not even with an audience.)

I think I might have even drooled a bit but I was too spaced out to care.

When I’d been let down (and Taylor put that fucking paddle away), Master took me back to one of the bedrooms and we fucked monkey-style on the floor. There was no waiting til we got back to the hotel, it had to be done right then.

The whole thing, the scene I watched and the scene I was in, has awakened my slutty side. I told Master I easily could have fucked every single person in that room, and would have had He’d allowed it and had any of them been willing. All I could think about was fucking and sucking cock and licking pussy. I haven’t felt that slutty around other people in a LONG time.

We’re monogamous. Or- we were. Now? I dunno. It’s all up to Him of course, but I just had to let it be known that I’m game for some polyfucking.

Plus I think it would be hot as fuck to be told to go service some guy. Whether He ever allows that given that He doesn’t typically share His toys remains to be seen. I think the idea appeals to Him, but the reality of it may not.

We’ll see I guess.

~cunt

To Punish or Not To Punish. That is the Question.

I’ve read each response to the punishment post with avid interest. I’m endlessly fascinated with the differences in how people live this life. I’m even more fascinated by how quickly some are to criticize that which they don’t understand or incorporate into their own relationship. Myself included, though I don’t always see it as I do it. Not that any of the comments were critical, I don’t mean that. Other places, things that I read, are. Anyway, it only seemed fair that I answer my own questions.

What place does it have in your bdsm relationship? A big one, though I often suspect that Master and I aren’t on the same page with it. I think it’s much more vital to me than it is to Him. He’s prone to excuse, or forget, or neglect a punishment with little thought to it being anything of any significance, whereas that tends to send me into a tailspin. I wish He was stricter and would incorporate more immediate consequences and I think He sees that as work and so He doesn’t. And He’s probably right, it IS work, but that doesn’t change my desire for it one bit.

What is your opinion of those who “play punish”? This can be taken two ways. There are those who do the whole “Ouuu, you’ve been a nasty, nasty girl. Now I must spank you. C’mere you baaaad girl!” and that seems like harmless fun. But the real question I was asking was about those who NEED to have punishment as a reason to have a scene. If it’s a trumped up mistake or something taken out of proportion, and used as the catalyst for a harsh scene. Maybe the Top cannot accept that He’s simply a pervert, that “punishing” her for her transgressions makes His kink okay, or the bottom needs that reason to explain away her desire to be hurt. I can see that it could be damaging, if one party does it that way but the other doesn’t. If a Top uses punishing as the excuse for every scene, I can see a sub becoming frustrated, thinking she’s never doing anything right.. or something like that. Or if a sub who needs the punishment excuse is beaten just for sadism’s sake, I can imagine she’d feel unfairly punished, like she hadn’t “deserved” it. I can definitely see where it would have to be a mutually agreed upon method or the potential for damage is high.

I can also see some of Master and I in that scenario too. But I need to think on that before I expand on it.

What do you think of couples who disguise their kink behind domestic discipline? Actually I think falls into the previous question. Spanking, either giving or receiving is a kink. The need for it, the need to administer it. And in DD relationships, it’s used, apparently, in a punishment sense. Behave or Be Punished. There HAS to be, from both parties, a kink for punishment, because if there isn’t, you’ve either got a wife who is being non-consensually punished (abused?), or an unwilling Top catering to his wife’s kink. (and rearrange the gender pronouns as you need. I’m not doing the slashy-slash stuff.) So my opinion of people who engage in a strictly DD relationship is that they have a punishment kink. Or maybe not. I freely admit that I am not well-read on DD dynamics.

Do you think the word ‘punishment’ is incorrectly used, when a more appropriate word like discipline or training is more fitting? Yes. I really do. I could say that my “punishment” for the whining, screaming, ass fucking of the other day is a return to the butt plug schedule (that I hate), but that would be incorrect. I think. It’s NOT a punishment, it’s a training technique or a disciplinary measure. I wouldn’t even say that writing lines is punishment (though I hate that too!), because the content of the lines that I’m made to write are designed to “train” something into my head. A word definition or a rule written out 500 times can really slam it into my memory. That’s discipline. But I also think it can be punishment, too, sometimes. So is the deciding factor on whether it’s discipline or punishment based on whether it follows a transgression or not? I’m not sure, but I think it might be. Having to write those lines as a standard or to reinforce something would be discipline, but to have it assigned because I’d already broken the rule pushes it over into punishment? Bah. I contradict myself, I know.

Are you of the mindset that a submissive should just behave and that punishment of any sort is ridiculous? No..lol. Then I’d be sunk. I know there are people who operate that way, but I’m SO glad Master is not one of them. I need room to be imperfect and stubborn and stupid and willful. I need to know that He’ll come along and conquer me all over again. The idea of having to be “perfect” with no room for mistakes would be more than I could take. If that makes me immature or incompetent, I’m fine with that.

Is there a point where repeated punishments for the same offense seem to point to a deeper problem? I think so. Though that deeper problem could just be forgetfulness (like me!). But it could also signify something that warrants a closer look than just repeated applications of the same consequence.

If punishment is a factor in your life, is there/has there been any struggle to find one that works? Oy. Yes. That’s why He has several that He uses.

Have you, as a masochist-submissive, willfully been disobedient purely for the sake of being punished? Ayup.

If the whole punishment “scene” is an actual admitted kink of yours, can you also have genuine punishments that don’t trip the trigger? Well there are certainly some things that are worse than others, but when one of my kinks is actually the method of having consequences for my actions, I don’t think there is anything that doesn’t flip that switch in some way.

Is it possible to maintain the punishment dynamic if you don’t both have some element of punishment kink? I mean, if there isn’t some area of eroticism about it for one of you, do you see it working in any capacity? I don’t. And I think this might be where Master and I run into some troubles now and then.

And lastly, does anyone who does incorporate punishment in their lifestyle acknowledge the extreme difference between a punishment spanking and a non-punishment spanking and how one cannot replace the other? That simply “asking to be spanked” does not scratch the right itch or feed the right hunger or soothe the right burn.. that there is something; something heavy and sinfully exciting and deeply satisfying that is only ever touched by being harshly, forcefully, and thoroughly punished… that no matter how good you want to be, no matter how much you dislike His disappointment, no matter how ashamed you may be… it’s there and it’s strong… Nobody really touched on this in the comments, but for me, this sums up my feelings about it perfectly. It is something entirely different than a regular spanking or a regular scene and it does give me something that no other amount or application of pain can even come close to, which is why simply asking for a spanking or asking to be hurt doesn’t take the place of having messed up and having been punished for it. And is also why, no matter how much I know He doesn’t like it when I misbehave, I occasionally do it on purpose because I feel like I’m STARVING and DYING for not getting that need met… and is also why, when I have genuinely and unintentionally messed up and He blows it off for whatever reason, it completely and totally fucks up my world for a long while. In a bad way. And I don’t necessarily like this about myself, at all.

and maybe, just maybe… it’s conquering that need that is the real path to submission? Or is it? I don’t know. Maybe. I work on trying to conquer this every day. Sometimes I’m real good at it, other times Im not. I know I’m way way better than I used to be. And to be honest, that kind of makes me sad because I feel like I’m killing something inside of me. It makes me feel defeated.. and dead.

Is it just another harmless but misunderstood fetish, just another point for people to judge or claim superiority on because they’ve never felt it in that way? Yeah. I think so. It’s another way of saying “my kink is okay, but yours is fucked up” coming from people who really should know better.

I don’t know that there is any way to explain a punishment kink, just as there is no way to explain a fisting kink or a bondage kink. You can discuss how it feels physically, what you think in the moment and out of the moment, try and detail the need it fills in you – but to explain the why, it’s just not possible.

But I’m so tired of being ashamed of it, you know? Weary of feeling less-than, and being told that it’s wrong, fed up with thinking there is something wrong with me, or that I just don’t get it.

So I’m going to try to not feel those things anymore. That’s one thing that I’m certain has no place in my life. Everything else is a work in progress. It probably always will be.

~cunt

“If sex is a pain in the butt, you’re doing it wrong.”

So, I’ve literally been sitting here for a freaking hour trying to convince myself not to use the “r” word. It’s such a touchy word.

I’ve never used it before. I know some people toss it around like it’s meaningless, as casually as saying they had meatloaf for dinner last night, they’ll announce that they were raped before bed.

That’s weird to me. I had made it a point previously to not use the word ’rape’ in my details of my sex life. Not only because I have given Master blanket consent to do whatever whenever He wants and so therefore, it cannot be rape, but also because I feel it trivializes the trauma of rape when it’s used so callously to describe what is actually just “rough sex”.

However. In this case, ’rough sex’ isn’t descriptive enough. I felt raped. The End.

And those people who would object to my use of the word rape based on consent are the same people who will tell me that I cannot possibly give one time consent for all things, that I am in fact consenting on a daily basis, task by task and chore by chore, and so, if that’s how it goes, then I most certainly did not consent and He raped my ass. So there.

This was, quite honestly, the single most painful sexual experience of my life. There was no preparation, no gentleness, no coaxing the ass into cooperation. He wanted what He wanted and He wanted it right then and there was nothing I could do or say to change it. He was brutal, He was mean, He made it hurt and not one second of my tearful pleas swayed His determination to force His large cock into my ass.

He smacked me when I moved, He told me to “take it”, and He told me He was glad it hurt. I cried, I begged, I screamed. And then I got fucked in the ass. It’s been two days and I’m still wiping blood.

I know I signed up for this but that truth doesn’t make things any easier to go through. It doesn’t negate my experiences as painful or traumatic or difficult or worthy of complaining. It ain’t all sunshine and lollipops, least not on my end.

So yeah, I signed up for it, but it still shocks the shit out of me when He uses me for exactly what He wants, no matter how I feel about it. It surprises me when He reminds me that I don’t matter.

Odd that.

~cunt

“Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.”

Yesterday was a good day. In spite of getting that punishment that’s been hanging over my head.

Master’s trip scheduled for next week was suddenly moved up to today (in fact, He is probably somewhere over Wyoming right about now) so He took yesterday off of work to get ready. There were three things He wanted to do yesterday; pack, play and punish.

The decision for Him was in what order. If He did the punishment first, we’d both be in that punishment headspace that would put a damper on the playing. But if we played first, the punishment would be less effective. And waiting it out through another trip wasn’t an option (thank God). He decided that my transgressions weren’t going to be the rain falling on His parade, so we played first.

And that was great. We were working on some things, there was some fucking and some romping and some bondage and some sucking. It was just fun (all up until the butt fucking, which I’ll tell ya about later!) – (it HURT SO BAD!)

So definitely the punishment, when it came, was different. Either I was flying high which made it less severe or He was flying high and was less harsh. Or both. It still hurt, don’t get me wrong! At the time, I was just as nervous and desperate for it to be over as I always am, it still seemed to hit bone (although watching the clip, as usual, it looks like He’s barely swinging) and I still cried.

I’m just glad it’s over. I’m even more glad that we had time to frolic in the land of perversion before He had to leave and that the punishment didn’t ruin that.

I’m off to take the dog to the vet and then run some errands, catch up on the chores I didn’t do yesterday cuz I was naked and tied up…. and then hopefully I can spend some time getting caught up on everyone. I’ve missed you all!

~cunt

(I am putting the clip up at the clip store. It’s not the best quality I’m afraid. The camera was on some funky setting and it’s a little grainy, as you can see in the still shots I took from it.)

Clover Clamps, Clits and Climaxes…

…and nipples…

…and headaches…

I came so hard my head hurts. Imma go take some Excedrin and flop on the couch. It’s hard work being my own Sadist! *snicker*

Here, there be smut.

Master kept the breast theme going this weekend. My ta-tas have had an extreme workout! Stick a fork in them, they are DONE.

I shouldn’t ought to say that, huh? He probably would stick a fork in them, mean old bastard. (Have you seen the pictures/video clips of women with those long skewers going straight through the tits??? Holy FUCK I want none of that shit. Hellooo.. crybaby-kaya over here! *waving* None of that boob-kabob (kaboob? *snicker*) stuff for me, thanks!)

I adore him. Does it show?

And then shit got serious. Seriously painful, that is.

I was trying to zen. Become one with the pain. ~Ohm~ ~Ohm~

And then he did this. Totally ruined my zen.

My nipples will never be the same! I think they’ve grown an inch this week.

Then he got *really* mean.

And I developed a ’tude… (I really wanted to zen!)

But he has badder gear.. So he wins.

“arms out…”

“I said – arms fucking OUT.”

Following the mean was a blow job… and that was fun.

*nom nom nom*

Following the blow job was a doggy style fuck with more swinging nipple clamps. Again fun. But, nipples? So much of the ow.

And following THAT was some raunchy-ass, down-and-dirty fucking. Not sex, certainly not “making love”. We fucked. And it was nasty and messy and I squirted and he did too and I came so hard I thought I peed on him. But I didn’t. I don’t think. Honestly, neither of us much cared.

Then later, we fucked again with more swinging nipple clamps, under the desk, and it was just as good. And just as ouch. Which made it better.

So.. I’m bruised. I’m sore. My holes hurt.

I’d be up for more.. but Master flew out the this morning. *sniffle* A week (hopefully no longer than that) in Oregon. Any Oregonian (Oregonite?) readers? I told him he should go to the Wet Spot. I hear that’s the happening place in those parts.

I think my poor boobs need a week off to heal anyway.

~cunt

“Who’s to say that love needs to be soft and gentle?”

"No woman truly knows what she is, until she has worn a collar."

Slippery When Wet

The Master’s biggest frustration? A nipple so slick with blood that the clamp won’t stay on.

The cunt’s biggest frustration? A pussy so slick with greed that the vibe won’t stay in.

But never fear! Turns out they make clamps that don’t slip – no-how, no-way.

I did not, however, manage to dry up long enough to keep the vibe in.

Life just ain’t fair.

~cunt

Since we’re on the topic of breasts…

Aren’t these just absolutely the sexiest pair you’ve ever seen?

Those nipples are amazing!

From Hogtied, of course!

The breast theme is continuing… stay tuned!

What’s love got to do with it?

I’ve been mentioning here and there that I want to do a post about love and I have the time right now to do it, but of course today is one of those days where my thoughts are flitting about like butterflies on crack so no promises on this making a lick of sense.

Sometimes I think love is a death sentence for M/s. It could be the only time where unrequited love is preferred. Because, at least for me, my love for HIM is necessary, something I draw on when it comes to service and submission. I could not find pleasure in half of what I do if I didn’t love him as deeply and fiercely as I do.

But his love for me, when it comes to parts and pieces of Ms/ and sadism – is like a wet blanket.

It’s a trap. A trap that he opens and I fall into, a place where we both end up spinning in circles for a time, not sure what’s holding us down until finally, one of us (me, usually) will sit up and go “Ah-ha! You’re loving me again. Loving me too much.”

What will happen is that I’ll end up with a case of the “wifies”. Girlfriend syndrome, I’ve heard it called. A time when expectations dip into romance and tenderness, when I begin to think I deserve to be treated more as an equal than a subordinate, when I assign more importance to my needs than to his, when I expect to be courted and wooed and romanced into sex and service. When I can sit on the couch, with my feet up, and ask HIM to fetch ME something.

A time when his requests are met with an eyeroll instead of a pleasant nod, when he’s answered with grunts or heavy sighs instead of “Yes Master”, a time when I stomp away, scowling, and thinking to myself, “what about ME, you selfish prick? I’m tired and I’m stressed and my head aches and.. and.. and.. etc. etc.! What makes YOU so special?”

What makes this so hard for him to see is because he loves me as deeply and fiercely as I love him. He doesn’t immediately see it for what it is. Instead, he lets the love, and the natural urge to please the one you love, override what should be the response of a Master. He responds as my husband, with gentleness and concern. He babies me, pets me.

It’s not long before we are both sitting here, scratching our heads, wondering what the hell happened to that mean old Sadist and his docile submissive.

They are buried somewhere under the heavy, wet blanket of loving husband and wife.

I know it’s not just us, either. I read and I see other long-term couples, living together, trying to make it work, slipping and sliding into the same love-trap. Clawing their way out only to slide back in without notice some few months later.

I see more who give up the fight for good. It’s easier to live as husband and wife. That’s what makes it such an easy pit to fall in to. It’s less work, the only consequence being a twinge of remembrance, a flash of want, overshadowed by a reminder of how much damn WORK it is to maintain the whole M/s thing, how you can’t take a day off, you can’t let anything slide, you have to be Johnny-on-the-spot ALL THE TIME and *sigh*…. easier to not have it.

So we fight and we fight, over and over again, to keep on keepin’ on. Less ’Scott and Tess’, more ’Master and cunt’.

But then I ask myself, “self, do you really want it any other way? Oh sure it sounds all sorts of “fun” to have that uncaring person of your fantasies ordering you about with no consideration to your feelings. But, let’s look at this honestly for a moment. Would you really want to have to suck a dick when you have a migraine? Would you truly want to be sent outside to shovel snow in the midst of the stomach flu, or pushed under the desk when you’re so tired you can’t see straight or… OR, for goodness sake, have access to watching American Idol taken away?? Worked and fucked and worked and fucked to the bone, to the very edges of your sanity? Or… is it nice to know that this person who hurts you in ways that you like (and in some ways that you dont), this man who fucks you senseless, who holds you to standards that are high but not unreachable.. this man cares about you, worries over your feelings, never wants to hurt you beyond repair, would do nothing, ever, to cause you emotional pain, consults you on matters of the heart, rubs your cheek as you cry, testing and feeling and proving that he’s not pushed you too hard, too far. Really, would you want that to change, cunt?”

No. For God’s sake, no.

If it is that there has to be a balance for us, a tightrope walk between love and sadism, and if we are prone to falling off now and then, the fact that we always, ALWAYS fall to the side of too much love gives me profound hope for our future. Because it is fact that someday, far into the future (I hope), M/s and s&m will be laid to the side – like a pair of pants we no longer fit into. Age and health will someday force us out of it. And at least I know that what we’ll be left with once stripped of those M/s clothes, is a deeply forged love, a connection proven time and time again to be our natural state.

“He loves me too much.” My chief complaint. But one I make with a smug and satisfied smile.

At least for today. Another day, I’ll be lamenting those early days of callous sadism before love was in the mix. I’ll be begging him to hate me, just a little, just for a little while, because underneath my wifely loving heart lies the soul of a masochist, starving for a plate of mean.

So, there you have it; butterfly thoughts on crack.