“Curiosity killed the cat – but satisfaction brought it back.

1) Have you ever “ridden a horse”? Not a live one, the wooden one that tries to split your cunt open.

I have! It’s one of those things that I love to hate. I have pictures of it posted somewhere in the archives (someday I *will* go back and tag all the entries. Someday. When I have about 8 hours to spare. ;) ). I even made a new, shinier, better one a few months ago and it’s been stuck in the corner, never used, ever since. But now that you’ve so graciously reminded Master that it’s there with this wonderful question, I am *sure* that will be rectified soon! Thank you so much! :P

2) Do you engage in water play (submersion, forced hosing, etc.)?

Not yet, although it’s something he’s mentioned more than once. I expect that it’ll happen sometime. I’m not sure how I feel about it either. It’s not really the same feeling as the choking/smothering thing we do now I’ll bet. Adding in my water phobia, it could be pretty intense.

3) How does your doctor deal with your lifestyle? I can’t imagine that the “Owned Slave” scars go unnoticed during a breast exam, let alone the welts from a great night of whipping et al. It wold be nice to know that the medical community has open minded individuals who understand the difference between abuse and “aggressive” sexual play.

They do, actually. All it takes is honest, up front communication. Doctors know what s&m is, and while they may raise their eyebrows at some of the more intense forms of things, as long as you present yourself as a well-informed, consenting and confident individual, they don’t make an issue out of it. I’ve never gotten anything worse than simple curiosity from a medical professional (though I have wondered what they talk about in the break room sometimes!).

In fact, I was just at the doc’s yesterday afternoon for a pap, breast exam and general physical. I’m still sporting the healing marks from the recent whipping and there was no noticeable change in his demeanor as he examined me. Now we did hold off redoing the breast cuttings knowing this appt. was coming up. While the scars are there and still visible, there is no reason to have had it fresh and healing. Neither of us see any point in “flaunting” what we do, you know? (and there is one person I know who will be happy to hear that I had my tetanus shot updated too!) (Funny how I cringe and get all nervous when the nurse
approaches me with a needle, but when it’s Master, I’m practically salivating at the thought of being poked!).

4) You asked if anyone has stolen play ideas from you. Do you worry that a novice may get in over her head doing so?

Meh. Not really, not anymore. I’m nobody’s guidance counselor. I expect people to do their own research, to know their own body, know their partner. And as I like to say- stupid should hurt. :D

5) Have you stolen play ideas from other blogs (such as DL’s Toy)?

Oh all the time. All the time. I will often read something or see a picture and tell Master about it. At that point, if he’s interested in it, it’s filed away in his head and then when he wants to do it, he’ll modify it to suit his wants and needs. I don’t know that I’ve ever taken something *exactly* as I read it/saw it because we aren’t exactly like the people I read. Sometimes he takes whatever it is and makes it worse, sometimes he makes it lighter, sometimes it’s just the starting point for something entirely different. I have zero qualms about being a copy cat; I read some pretty interesting folks!

6) What’s your top five favorite movies of all time? and 7) What do you think are the five best movies of all time? (feel free to up the number on this and the previous if five is too small)

I’m combining these two because for me, it’s one and the same. My favorites ARE the best. :)

I Am Legend.

Breakfast Club

E.T.

Men in Black I and II

Girl, Interrupted

Beaches

War of the Worlds

Terms of Endearment

About a Boy

Schindler’s List

Se7en

Catch Me if You Can

American History X

The Count of Monte Cristo

8. Who’s your top five favotite authors (you can’t name me unless you actually go read my stuff on stories on line ;) )

Stephen King (his earlier stuff. His newer stuff is… meh.. so-so.)

Dean Koontz (I like teh horror)

John Grishom (Skipping Christmas, movie and book are awesome.)

J.K. Rowling (even though I didn’t read all the H.P books, I think what she writes, judging by the success with both children and adults, is pretty impressive)

Nicholas Sparks

9) What’s your top five favorite books of all time?

The Shining and The Stand -well hell, I’d have a whole list of Stephen King books.

The Girl in the Box

The Girl Next Door (quite disturbing, that book)

The Deep End of the Ocean

The Twilight Series

The DaVinci Code

Gone With the Wind

The Left Behind series (I started reading this years ago and got to the 6th or 7th book which was the newest publication at the time. In waiting for the newer books, I lost interest in it. Seems like when there is too long between books I forget the details and can’t be bothered anymore. But maybe now that it’s finished (I think. Is it?) I’ll start over and read the whole set.)

It’s hard for me to pick favorites. It’s just like trying to pick that favorite scene; I think the current one is the best until I get to the next one, you know?

10) Do you ever play monopoly, and if you do, who usually wins?

I haven’t played monopoly in years, since I was a kid and played with my siblings. I can tell you that I lost then. Every single time. Monopoly stressed me out, man. It’s so much pressure! All those decisions and risky chances… whew. Made me sweat. We usually play Mad Gab, or Scene It as a family. I play Chess with B-man, he’s even beat me a time or two.

The End! :D

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The questions are diamonds you hold in the light. Study a lifetime and you see different colors from the same jewel.”

If your Master didn’t like your kids and decided they should go live somewhere else without you, could you live with that decision? could you give up the kids for Him?

That’s a HARD question. Boy, go right for the jugular!

I guess there are two schools of thought here. One would be the automatic slave answer (and I imagine a computer generated voice, like when you try to call the cable company) which would be “I would do whatever Master wished me to do.” The thing about that answer is there is no thinking behind it. It’s the standard answer that the slave gives to everything, right?

Then there is the proper mother answer that goes “HELL NO! I’d never give my kids up for a man, Master or no Master!”

I’m stuck somewhere in the middle of those two answers. Lord knows I love my kids more than anything. I’ve worked and sacrificed and struggled to give them what they need, and some of what they want. I worry about their future, I lament about their past, mistakes play over and over in my mind and I’m constantly questioning myself on whether or not I’m “doing it right”. Exactly like most every other parent in the world.

But I also remember being alone. I also know what an amazing connection I have with him. The idea of losing that is… devastating. So sometimes, in my darkest heart, when I ask myself, ’what if’- what if he, for some reason, made it a choice. Him or the kids? *sigh*

I guess it would depend a whole lot on the reason. If there was no reason, if it were something as ridiculous as being tired of the inconvenience or whatever, that ultimatum would color my opinion of him so badly that there would be no real choice to make. Of course I’d leave him and stay with my kids. I signed on with them for 18+ years and I’m prepared for 18+ years.

But. If there was a legitimate reason? Say one of my kids went psycho and Master was afraid for his life. Or, if one became a drug addict and we were putting up with them stealing from us, drugs in the house, wild parties. Or any other reason that made that sort of request a reasonable thing to consider, then yes, I’d probably choose Master over my child.

Since you and your master have a foot difference in height, I was wondering whether this ever caused any problems in any regard? Does this preclude any sort of positions or other general bodily arrangements or lead to preferences for others? My girlfriend and I are in a similar situation.

The only thing that is difficult to impossible is trying to fuck standing up. Especially in the shower. We do manage it, but it’s an exercise in speed-fucking. He has to squat and I have to tiptoe as high as I can, and our old muscles get to quaking pretty quickly. And, like the one commenter said, kissing while fucking in missionary position is awkward, but not impossible. In fact, he is often nibbling and sucking on my nipples during missionary sex, though how he contorts himself in that manner is beyond me.

Mostly though, I find his size to be a benefit. Not only does he make me feel tiny and weak (and therefore more submissive) simply by hugging me or holding my hand, it’s handy to have a tall man around the house! I can’t reach anything on the top shelves or things in the way back of the cupboards! Plus, he’s the perfect height for fucking me on the edge of our bed (me lying, him standing) and when we walk, my hand aligns perfectly with his crotch to cop a feel (though I did have to learn to stop swinging my arms when I walk *snicker*), When I kneel in front of him, it’s like kneeling before a God. He towers over me, peers down at me.. *swoon*, it makes me feel so small and insignificant, plus, that’s good dick sucking position too. I can kneel and he can be standing and it’s great alignment for penis to mouth. ;)

Do you still have difficulty kissing your master? How does he react to this?

I do. I think it’s just something I’m always going to have. One of those childhood gifts that keeps on giving. He’s accepted it, frankly. He no longer takes it personally and he’s stopped doing it in the manner that triggers me wrong.

I can kiss, and I can enjoy it, it just has to be done in a certain way. It can’t be a sneak attack, I have to know it’s coming. I have to have just a second to set my mind right. So he simply tells me “I’m going to kiss you now.” I know that sounds so incredibly UNromantic, but it’s really not if it’s done right. Like, I’m fine with pecking so we’ll be doing that, and he’ll just sort of murmur that he’s going to kiss me now. It’s not so bad.

It also has to be somewhat short. No marathon french kiss, or I’ll literally think I’m suffocating and dying. I forget how to breathe when I’m being kissed. Strange.

I’m sure he wishes it didn’t have to be like that, but what are ya gonna do? *shrug*

Go on and pry! March is question-and-answer month!

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Pottymouth

So as I said yesterday, Master had wanted to hogtie and face fuck me the other night. But then we got into a snit.

It was one of those incredibly ridiculous things that seems to take on a life of it’s own. Like arguing over a spoon, you know? No point, no real dissension, just two people saying the wrong thing at the wrong time and not being adult enough to curb it.

I was getting the stuff out for his planned fun; the jaw spreader and the cuffs. I asked him a question, an either/or question about the plans. His answer? No. But it wasn’t a yes or no question, dammit. No to which one? Both? Neither? It just rubbed me the wrong way. I know, stupid, right?

I got snippy when I asked for clarification on the ’no’, and he snapped back, so I snapped back even harder. Then he was like, "you know, I’m about two seconds away from saying ’fuck it’ about this" and I was like, "yeah well, so am I!" so he threw down the stuff and stomped away and I huffed and went to bed –

Just.. dumb. Very dumb.

Soooo… no bad deed goes unpunished, dontcha know. Master’s preferred method of dealing with a pottymouth is to show me exactly what a pottymouth’s use is.

I just hate that. It’s bad enough that I have to be all humbled and feel stupid for blowing up in the first place, coupled with the humiliation of being that close in contact with the toilet (which is just not pleasant, ever), on top of hearing him remind me in exact words that I’m a pottymouth, AND that I really, really dislike the taste of urine something awful… just not a good time. At all.

I know some people do the whole pee-drinking thing with success, and it’s all kinds of service-oriented – but for me, it contains a high enough dose of squick factor that the service aspect is wiped out, and the objectification is overshadowed. And.. I just hate it. The end. I hate it a tiny bit less when it’s done simply because he wants to and I can somewhat grab a hold of how perverted it is, but even then, it tastes bad and the aftertaste is bad and he *always* gets it up my nose. Always! On purpose, I might add. The essence of it hangs around for-fucking-ever when it’s marinating in your sinus cavity. (In fact, the other day in the shower, he waited until I needed to breathe, knowing I’d have suck air in through my nose because my mouth was full of piss, and he shot it right up there letting me snort in a damn healthy dose of urine. Have I mentioned that he’s a bastard? Yeah. He is.)

So! That was my day. How was yours? :(

~cunt

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“You never find yourself until you face the truth”

What is your nastiest closed eyes midnight fantasy that you go to when the vibe is just perfection and i want details.

I have been avoiding this question for weeks. It’s not as easy as you think. (Because I let nothing be easy, you understand. Ms. Difficult, that’s me. In fact, last night Master elected not to hogtie and face fuck me because I made it too difficult. ~le sigh~ Some days it simply does not pay to get out of bed. :-( )

/self-pity

Okay. Fantasy.

I have one fantasy that I almost always end up in “when the vibe is just perfection”. No matter what simpler fantasy I may have started out with, or what bit of porn I may have been watching, when the going gets good I generally let my mind dip into the same end of the perverted pool.

It is me, naked and dirty, chained by a welded shut chain looped around my neck, to a corner of a kitchen in a run down hovel of a house. When I let things get really detailed, the chain that secures me to that corner is just long enough to reach the parts of the house that are necessary for me to be of any use to my captor. But I rarely worry myself over those non-painful, non-sexual details, except in a very abstract manner.

There is a man. Older, out of shape, unshaven.. and dirty. Smelly, unkempt. There has to be some element of repulsion and disgust. The acts that I must perform cannot be erotic or enticing. It has to be something that, in real life, I would absolutely not want to do, but in the fantasy it is a do-or-die scenario. This man likes, needs, to know that I am disgusted, but that also I do what I’m told without a moments hesitation. Or else.

The fantasy always begins the same way. I’m in the corner, on display. ’On display’ varies according to my mood, I guess. Sometimes I’m standing, hands on my head. Sometimes I’m simply kneeling. Sometimes- most times- I’m kneeling with my head on the floor, hands reached behind me to spread myself skin-tearing wide (Insert various horrific punishments for being caught not ’on display’). The man enters, grimy, sweaty, and sits at the table to the meal that I’ve prepared for him. A meal that I, of course, am not allowed to eat. Once he is sitting he grunts for me (in the fantasy my ’name’ is bitch. It used to be cunt, but more on that in a bit), I crawl from my corner to under the table where I’m set to work cleaning his filthy feet, dirt and all, with my tongue while he eats.

From the kitchen he drags me to the living room by my hair, where he reclines in a chair to watch tv and my tongue bath moves from his feet to his crotch. With copious amounts of derogatory name calling, smacks and slaps to my head and face, hair pulling of the sort that rips out chunks of hair, and rough face fucking, I thoroughly clean his stinky cock and balls. Once cleaned and aroused, one of two things happens.

The “nicer” one: I’m flipped around and ass fucked. Quick, no lube, harsh. Nothing more involved than if my ass were his hand, wrapping around his dick to masturbate, I’m used and discarded, sent back to the corner to await another time of use.

The other, and favorite, one: I’m secured to the floor in front of him, by rope or chain, on display in much the same manner as described above. On my knees, face pressed to the floor, hands secured to my ankles. My ass and cunt is fully exposed and open to be kicked, slapped, scraped with his filthy toenails. Poked, prodded, hurt. The “abuse” ramps up and up the longer I fantasize, until my unprotected cunt is being whipped and beaten to a darkly bruised mass of flesh. I imagine his laughter as I scream and beg, the mocking of my suffering as he works to hurt me, causing me extreme pain that he finds nothing more than humorous.

And of course there will be, at some point near the end, more plundering of the damaged asshole and bleeding cunt, more laughing as I cry.. until, finally, the fantasy drives me into a shuddering orgasm and I tuck it away until the next time.

Now, why did I find this so difficult to write? Well, I’ll tell ya!

The man is a faceless, nameless wretch of a human. At one time, it used to be Master’s face and Master’s name as I worked myself through that fantasy. It’s not anymore. In fact, trying to interject Master into the fantasy in some capacity ruins the fantasy for me.

I struggled with that for a long time. Did it mean that I didn’t love him as I used to? Did it mean I was subconsciously wishing for someone else, a different dom or sadist? Had I lost respect or was it some other equally dooming prophecy? The guilt I felt over not fantasizing about my own Master was intense. I was ashamed, embarrassed, worried. I asked myself how I would feel to know Master was fantasizing about another woman, a different slave. Someone else for him to hurt and torture. How devastated would I be to know that I wasn’t “good enough” to fulfill his fantasies?

It was a bad time, bad thoughts. You know me; always borrowing trouble and making things worse than they really are.

But here’s what I’ve come up with. Master no longer fits the bill of that faceless man because he is not repulsive to me. He does not disgust me, he’s not stinky or filthy. And, he cares about me. About my health, my safety. As much as he may hurt me, it’s never, ever on a permanent or damaging level, because it is not do-or-die, and he fully intends to keep me around long enough to earn my keep. But more importantly, he loves me. And I love him.

All of those things, the love and affection and tenderness that we share, makes that fantasy impossible to have with him in it. There is no tenderness or caring in that fantasy. That “man” has to see me as a totally worthless object, there cannot be any regard for my feelings or safety or future. Once that comes into play, it’s ruined. And that’s why, while Master was that man once, he’s not anymore. And cannot be.

That’s also why the name in the fantasy switched from cunt to bitch. Cunt is Master’s name for me. It no longer signifies anything objectifying or demeaning. Cunt is as normal to me as Tess is.

Also, I’ve found out that Master does have fantasies about other women. Women that he does not care for, women that are objects to him, that he can hurt beyond repair and it matters not to him because he’s not invested in their future or happiness. Women that, he says, he could cut loose on and completely fuck up.

I’m okay with that. Sort of.

Love is a tricky addition to a bdsm relationship, in ways you’d never see coming.

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“Confidence, like art, never comes from having all the answers; it comes from being open to all the questions.”

What type of chick were you in highschool? Im just curious, Like were you one of those bitchy girls that everyone likes…one of those bitchy girls everyone hates, ect. Which one were you?

I wasn’t a bitch at all in high school. That’s a skill I developed after being online.

I went to a very small school. There were about 20 kids in my graduating class, less than a hundred in the entire high school. So while there was some amount of "class" separation, cliques and whatnot, there was a lot of blurring of the social lines. There had to be, or each clique would have had about 3 kids in it. Everyone knew everyone else, if you went to a party you’d be socializing with almost the whole school.

There were those few kids who were great at everything and were super popular, and then a few who sucked at life, and everyone else fell somewhere in the middle. I was in the middle. I was neither a brainiac nor did I come close to flunking. I wasn’t a ’jock’ but I had fun playing when I did play. I wasn’t a troublemaker, but I wasn’t a goody two shoes either. I did my share of naughty things. I was just a normal kid.

After all the really intense beatings we’ve seen documented here, how is a simple hand spanking for you now? Is it basically just fun foreplay/warm up to scene?

A simple hand spanking? What’s that?

Um… you know, it’s all in the delivery. A simple spanking can be intense (by intense I mean painful enough to make me cry), but, yeah, it’s probably NOT going to send me over the edge or leave me feeling the way I prefer to feel. I think that only happens when it’s his intent to push me there.

He has a plan (someday when the kids leave us alone for two whole hours) to spank me through an entire movie. It’s my opinion that his hand will give out long before my ass does. He thinks it’ll be fun and that I’ll be begging for him to stop. We’ll just see about that!

You mentioned earlier that your kids see you choosing to live as a subservient wife. Is that really so? Do they see you deferring to him as, the one who makes all the decisions or whatnot? I mean, do they really see you as subservient? Do your daughters ever ask why it is that you don’t challenge him, or are they ever under the impression that all women/wives should let the husband take charge or whatnot?

They see me waiting on him hand and foot. I fix his plate, refill it if he wants, watch his cup. They see me take off his boots- I could list a hundred little things. It operates, basically, like an old-fashioned "Husband is King of the House" marriage. All he does is go to work and come home (though he certainly does assist with bigger Manly-type jobs). What they know of the decision making process is that I will not decide anything without first talking it over with Master. Whether they’re entirely aware that he is, in fact, deciding things alone, or whether they think we’re making a joint decision, I’m not sure. They do know that his final decision is – well, final.

They do not think that all women should let the husband rule the roost. Not at all. And they have questioned why I don’t challenge him. I simply explain it as this is how I choose to live and that it makes me happy. That they can decide for themselves what type of relationship they want to have when they are adults. I can tell you that Am will probably not be a subservient female. She has gotten ’offended’ on my behalf a time or two and it’s taken several times for me to stand up to *her* about my choices. She’s made her peace with it now and only says that she’ll never want what I do. I tell her she doesn’t have to have it, that’s the beauty of having choices.

(Nor do I allow my son to think he’s entitled to being waited on or served. I stress that it is not a man’s right for a woman to take care of him. It’s all about choices and what you want out of life.)

You can ONLY have three wishes, so one wish CANNOT be for more wishes.

What do you wish for before you go into that cage for the rest of your life?

I gotta admit, this one stumped me. I sorta went through a list of "hopes". Like, I hope I’m happy, I hope it’s the right choice, blah blah blah. And I went through a list of silly wishes. Like, I wish Master would give me a laptop. And a tv. And cable. And a take-out menu and a phone.

But I was coming up with nothing. I asked Master. What do I wish for? He grinned and said "you wish there are no bugs in there with you." So…

I wish for there to be no bugs in my cupboard.

And that’s just all I can come up with. I trust Master to supply the rest.

You often complain about being (or at least feeling) fat. So spill the beans: How large are you? I’m guess about a size 14? 155-160 pounds? (Maybe less…it’s hard to guess since I don’t know how tall you are.)

I fluctuate between a 14 and 16 and I’m heavier than 160. By 10 to 15lbs, depending on the time of the month. (And I’m 5’4", btw. Master is 6’4".)

Anyway, was there a point in time when you suddenly decided you needed to do everything for real? A point when you gave up the desire for the traditional relationship that society/religion/family heaps on you?

I don’t know that I could pinpoint an exact time or period. It’s been fairly recent, after I’d met Master anyway. I suppose the idea skirted around in my head for a while, but it was such an impossibility that I never seriously let it take root. It was masturbation fodder, nothing more, nothing less. But wow, when something that you’ve filed away as a pipe dream suddenly seems possible, it’s amazing. And scary. Really scary. And now, it’s completely out of my hands. It’s not just my dream anymore, not my fantasy. It’s Master’s goal. In fact, I asked him just the other day, what if *I* change my mind? Before I’d always been worried that HE would change his mind, now I’m worried about me.. and he just said that would really suck for me. it’ll happen however he wants it to happen.

Have you ever used Tabasco sauce? We tried it once and instead of using a q-tip like it said he thought he would just splash it on and use milk to dull the pain. NOOOO, I had to run to the shower, I WAS CRYING AND I JUST WANTED TO RIP MY PARTS OFF. Ever had that feeling? -)

I’ve only ever had it put on my nipples, where it did absolutely nothing whatsoever. But I do know that feeling. Icy Hot, cinnamon… yeah… I know the feeling!

What would you like to ask your readers? :-P

Oh the usual stuff comes to mind. How did you find the journal? Why do you read it? But that’s mostly ego stroking.

Though I *am* interested in how people find it. Through links, through searches? I think that’s interesting. But what I would really like to know is this:

If you are one of the people who read it but don’t like or agree with what I say, WHY do you continue to read?

Why do the rest of you think they read?

If you’ve bought one of my crafts, what do you think of it?

Is there anything you’d want to see me make and sell? Craft ideas?

I know I read other people and "steal" ideas for play from them all the time. Have you ever read us and gone off to do what we just did or do you shudder and say "Thank GOD we aren’t into that!"?

What do you really think of the ’cunt in a cage’ plan? Realistic or completely insane and doomed to failure?

I’m sure I’ll think of more!

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We interrupt your program to bring you this very special commercial message

Extreme Restraints is having an Easter Sale!

You get 10% off select items. w00t! So I’m picking out my favorite Easter-inspired items.

First, of course it would be this: Bunny Tail Butt Plug. Seriously, how CUTE is that?! And I don’t even like butt plugs!

Then, a masturbaholic such as myself can never have too many silver bullets. Good price for it, too.

This next one is just so cool to look at that it HAS to feel good, right? How could it not! It’s the White Nights Vibrator. Don’t we all need a white night to come rescue us from the hornies?!?

Okay, here’s one for the ’Never Seen THAT Before’ record book. Ejaculating Rabbit Vibrator. So.. um… *what* is it ejaculating exactly???? I gotta say, I’m as much of a sperm-ho as the next sperm-ho, but it’s the *actual* sperm that I want, you know? Nothing else will work as a stand-in! (unless it was chocolate, in which case… maybe!) I guess it’s supposed to give you the sensation of being ejaculated in, but, geez, can you really FEEL that? I feel the twitching of his cock, but I don’t think I feel the sperm “splashing the hot walls of my convulsing cunt”. I just always figured that was porn-talk. *shrug* What do I know?

Here’s one that’s a lot of fun to wear out and about. Remote Control Vibrating Egg. Yeah, Imma get me one of those. Master will have a good time with it. (me too! :D )

Internet Enabled Rabbit Vibrator – now this one I just thought was pretty inventive. How many of you in long distance, online relationships wouldn’t like to have one of these!? I’d have liked one when Master was traveling all the time. Love the idea of it a bunch.

Okay, just one more and the commercial will be over and I’ll return you to your regularly scheduled blog.

This one made me laugh. The Talking Head MP3 Rabbit Vibrator! It TALKS dirty to you! While you vibe! How fucking insane is that?! It makes me wonder how easy orgasm control training could be with this thing. Simply record your orgasm command words into the mp3 player and practice. Repeatedly. All day long!

I love sex toy technology!!

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“I laugh, I love, I hope, I try, I hurt, I need, I fear, I cry. And I know you do the same things too, So we’re really not that different, me and you.”

Can i whore your idea?

It wasn’t my idea, I whored it from someone else. So yes! Yes you can!

What makes you want to run away?

Everything sometimes. Srsly. I’m a wimp. But things that I never like, ever? Clover clamps. Drinking piss. Lexan cane. Misery stick. Blue stick. His anger.

Do you wanna borrow my 62 sunflower pins? *grins*

I’ll borrow them to put sandpaper on them and return them to you. :D

What’s your deepest, darkest, most private fantasy that hasn’t been realized yet?

I am still avoiding this question..lol

What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you’re done reading this sentence?

I still have more questions to answer!

What are your fetishes? (see list here)

smoking – though not the smoking itself, but the human ashtray part is pretty fucking cool.
humiliation
spanking
bondage
sperm
bdsm
nipple
needle
torture
Fear and Terror
Breast
Blood
Hood
Breathplay
Rape
Isolation
brainwashing
Pain

Favorites?

Breast/nipple
Fear and terror
isolation
Hoods

Ones you have thought about, but not tried?

bestiality

Ones you have tried, but not cared for?

Enemas

Is it/was it ever a total mindfuck to be in a space of needing/wanting pain and being frightened of it? Has mentally accepting that you are into pain been a difficult thing for you at any point? (I ask cuz its so where I am right now ;)

It is, all the time. I am frightened of it, always. I guess because I know that I’m not in control of it in any way whatsoever. In my two previous bdsm relationships there was zero pushing on the pain stuff. Though I was the “bottom”, application of pain was dictated according to what I wanted and/or didn’t want. It stopped when I said so, it was ramped up or toned down at my request, it didn’t happen at all unless I agreed to it. Things with Master are *entirely* different. That was a huge, huge hurdle to climb for me. I don’t think I even knew, going in, that I wasn’t supposed to be in charge of it, you know? I was just really new to it all, still exploring it, and he breezed in and fucked my world up for a long time.

So, yeah, it’s been a regular mindfuck to realize that I don’t just want or crave the pain and this kind of treatment, but that I NEED it and that that need sets me up for some serious hurt that is generally much more than I bargained for. Once I ask for it, when I work up the nerve TO ask for it, it’s all at his mercy, or lack thereof, as to how much or how bad it will be.

I had no problem accepting the label of masochist. It just made sense to me from the get go. I always knew that I needed some sort of painful stimuli to “get off”, even during early masturbation moments. So I think I had less issue with it than some people I’ve known/read. There have been times when I’ve struggled with accepting it as a NEED. At times I wish I wasn’t a masochist and I wish I could enjoy normal, fluffy, feel-good things like other people do. I envy that adaptability, and I envy how easy it all seems. Needing pain – it’s like a drug. The cravings, the withdrawals, the deep-seated itch, all of those symptoms associated with drug users seem to apply to pain addicts, and no matter how much a user may enjoy their drug of choice, they still may wish for a normal, easy life. I get in those places sometimes, cursing whatever event or chemical or God(s) that made me the way I am.

I accept it, and mostly I’m fine with it. I yam what I yam, as Popeye would say. But I have wistful moments too.

What was your/his kink like before you met and how has it changed?

When I first met Master he had NO interest in owning a slave. He wanted a self-sufficient submissive who liked it a little kinky I think. He was really a LOT “lighter” than he is now. The idea of micro-management didn’t appeal to him *at all*. I can still remember those early conversations where he would vehemently declare that the last thing he wanted was some girl asking him to use the bathroom or having to pick out her clothes or telling her what to eat. He wanted someone who could think for themselves, he said.

And look at him now. Talk about a complete turn around!

I’m not sure how my own kinks have changed because I was never set on any one kink to begin with. I really was just setting out to explore everything. I had some fucked up belief that kink was a progression, you started as a weekend ass-slapper, progressed to a submissive, then to a slave, and then finally to a brainwashed objectified fuckdoll. I don’t know why I thought everyone in kink had the same goals. I guess because I was just that naive and that new. All I can really say is that I was up for anything and everything because I didn’t know better. Now, with the level of control that Master has, I don’t even think I can separate what my kinks are from his anymore. I don’t have different goals or whatever. *shrug*

I was wondering what you and your Master do, if anything, to safeguard him in the event something did go badly wrong during play, to try to avoid him being charged with something awful? I guess a related question is: do you have something written down to help your kids out if something like that happened?

Well, if this journal isn’t evidence enough that I was a willing participant in my own demise, I don’t know what would be. The thing about all those contracts and written statements is that none of them are recognized as legal documents (that I’m aware of). Should he do something that resulted in my accidental death, he’d be held accountable for it, no matter what papers were stashed away somewhere. I mean, you read these things all the time. S&M gone wrong, men brought up on charges and using slave contracts as justification, and it all means diddly squat to the judge, mostly.

Master is really, really careful and really safe. I know some of what we do looks scary, but he’s very safety conscious and worries a lot about my health. In fact, I complain more about him asking me too many questions and being too nice than I have ever worried that he’s not in control of the situation!

You seemed embarrassed about recent pictures of your pussy and asshole. Were you coy, or do you still get embarrassed about the pictures and do you get embarrassed when a male doctor examines you?

I am still very, VERY embarrassed by probably 80% of the pictures Master has me post here. I am not faking that or being coy. I don’t mind the pictures of my boobs. But the face or body shots, the more up-close and personal ass and pussy shots? I try and beg out of those almost every time. I am less embarrassed than I was in the beginning. I figure I don’t have many new readers and most of you have seen every square intimate inch of me at least 5 times already, but still… I’m a lot more shy than I project here.

And yes, I do blush and wish to sink through the floor when I’m at the doctors. I don’t know if women ever get used to that. *sigh*

You and Leesa recently met with your M’s. What did both of you wear? How long did you keep it on? Were you each inspected by the others M? How did it feel?

Recently!? My goodness, that was over a year ago already! Time flies. Wow. That will always be one of my fondest memories of blogging. Meeting them really was like meeting a celebrity!

What did we wear… um.. I’m sure I had a skirt on, I usually do. Though.. hmm.. I have no idea which one. Or maybe not. Maybe that was pre-skirt era. Leesa was wearing black jeans (I think). I’m old you know; my memory is going. We stayed dressed for quite a while actually! We sat and talked for a long time in the bar, then we sat in their hotel room and chatted some more, then we all went to dinner and chatted more – and THEN we got naked.

Just us girls though. The M’s stayed dressed (which, come to think of it, doesn’t seem very fair.) As for being inspected – we weren’t, like, made to stand there like cattle and be inspected that way. The M’s were like two kids showing off a favorite toy. It was like “watch her when I do *this*!” and “look how this thing marks!” and “listen when I do it like this, it’s so cool!” They were sharing tools of torture to try out and, yeah, they had a good time I think. So did I.

1: I’ve heard several comparisons of lexan and rattan canes, with the lexan coming out as far more viscous. What IS lexan and why are canes made form it so much painful?

All I know about lexan is that it’s a hard plastic (bulletproof say some), but it’s lightweight and flexible. Why it’s so much more painful than rattan I have NO idea. I’d like to know because it truly is one of the wickedest canes I’ve ever had the misfortune of feeling. It just plain bites like the devil. I’ll take a hundred rattan canes over one lexan.

2: Have you ever had an orgasm from JUST pain, with no erogenous zone stimulation?

Yes, rarely. It’s not typical to happen that way. I usually need SOME sort of stimulation. I wish pain would make me come then maybe I wouldn’t hate it so bad!

Would you both think of trying to get to Thunder this year, here in CO?

I would like to. But it’s pretty unlikely. :-( We don’t usually do trips without the kids, it just doesn’t seem fair to them.

How much downtime do you usually find yourself with in a given day?

Now that I’ve started this job? Not much! It’s been an adjustment, lemme tell ya. But once dinner is finished and the food is put away, I’ll put off doing the kitchen clean up and take those next few hours for family time, generally from 6:30-ish to 8:30 or so. I’ll stay in the living room and just be available for the kids or for Master if he wants anything. I don’t do any chores or get involved in anything else. I’ll watch tv, help the kids with homework or read or whatever. I’m usually pretty damn tired by then anyway so sitting down and doing nothing feels really good. I’m *supposed* to then finish the kitchen before I go to bed. Master doesn’t like to see dirty dishes and a cluttered counter, but I’m just SO tired by then that I’ll try and sneak off to bed without doing it like I should. (bad girl. bad bad girl!)

How long have you worn a buttplug? I always get uncomfortable after a short period and take it out. If I were forced to wear it for an extended period, it might be different. Like figging, the burn might go away a little.

I’ve worn them for hours. Anytime he has me put it in, I know that I’m supposed to keep it in for a minimum of two hours. If he has another time frame in mind, he’ll tell me, I don’t even have to ask. And should it be a day where I’m particular crampy or poopy, it seems simple enough to him that I can just take it out, do my business and put it back in. *sigh* (times like that, I sincerely believe that a *real* Master would try everything out on himself before making the slave do it! *hmmph*)

(no I did not just call you a “fake” Master. Was j/k! j/k!!)

I can’t recall, have you guys ever done figging?

We have tried it a couple of times. It does nothing for me. There is no huge burn, no pain, no arousal, no nothing. I can feel it, it tingles a tad, but nothing to write home to mom about. I just stand there with an ugly root shoved up my ass and be bored..lol

~~*~~

Except for the darkest fantasy question, I think I’ve reached the end. Unless I’ve missed one somewhere. If so, I apologize. Feel free to satisfy your curiosities here until the end of March.

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“No one gets their way. Until they whip it.”

I’ve put off doing this post for too many days. Ugh. I tried to beg out of it, but no dice.

I was gonna title it: “Look at the fat girl tied to the chair!” but Master hates it when I insult “his” property. Bah.

Okay, enough about that. I’m fat. Deal, right? Right!

So! On to the posting then.

I wish I would have posted while the experience was still fresh in my mind instead of being a “omgz! I can’t show my gut on teh intrawebs, Master!!” ninny. Now it’s lost a lot of the spark.

This was directly following the breath play so I was in some weird headspace. Pretty zoned but super disconnected from him. Which is what he tends to do when he’s about to get mean. He distances himself from my emotions.

(I have a post I wanted to do about that – about love and s&m and such. Maybe this will remind me to do so.)

I have a shameful confession to make.

I will do my damnedest to play on Master’s feelings. It’s true. I try and manipulate the situation (by situation I mean scene) by tugging on his heartstrings. Looking pathetic, imploring sympathy with puppy dog eyes and crocodile tears, pleading whimpers… you name it, I do it. I’m not acting or trying to be sneaky or anything. I mean it when I do it. I’m responding honestly to the pain by “asking without asking” for him to dial it down a notch.

If he ignores that -and he does, often- then I’ll just tell him (if I’m not gagged) he’s going too hard/fast/whatever. It’s a statement of fact, a warning really, that grace is about to take a flying leap out the window if he keeps it up at that pace.

Which is what I did less than 60 seconds into the whipping. I’d run quickly through the whole heartstrings attempt which he paid not one second of attention to, and damn it, he really WAS whipping fucking hard. No warm up (unless the breath play was the warm up), it was full speed ahead right out the gate with the whip. I told him. That’s too hard, man!

So he gagged me.

I have another shameful confession to make.

I’ll try and make too much noise so that he HAS to dial it down a notch. *blush*

Thing is though, I really, really don’t think I can stand one more second of the pain when I start hollering and crying. I’m not making it out to be worse than what I think it is, it seriously hurts bad. He’s not always out to help me find my happy place or to sink into subspace or to just make me horny. When he wants it to just hurt, it’s just going to hurt and I’m not pretending otherwise. It’s pain, real pain. My reactions are not stellar performances when that’s his intent.

But I do know that he’s bound in some manner to keeping things fairly quiet. Keeping it on the down-low. So when I’m sitting there thinking I’m dying, I’m gonna holler like I’m dying. It’s survival instinct! Sometimes it works enough that even if he doesn’t stop completely, he’ll switch toys or switch spots, which is sometimes all I need to get a grip on things.

I tried that. I was really trying to get some serious sound around the gag. All I wanted was for him to slow down. The repetitive strikes of the whip so fast together – there just isn’t time to breath, you know? The pain builds and builds.. and I was already all fuckled up from the breath play and face slapping – I was in bad shape. That’s all there was to it. So I hollered. Loud.

I thought it had worked too, as he lowered the whip and took a step away – only to reach the stereo where he cranked the volume up higher. I knew I was sunk then. Up a shit creek without a paddle.

After that I was a mess. I utterly and completely lost it. He felt so far away, I was all alone with the pain and my tears. I don’t know really how to describe that distance or how badly it fucks with my psyche. Once I enter that space, everything hurts more than it otherwise would. My nerves are all ramped up, on edge, jittering.

I was sobbing. Sobbing. Drooling around the gag, snot running down my face, can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t connect. And him? He was so turned on he could hardly stand it.

When he was done hurting me, he left me alone for a bit, putting my stinging body into bed, handing me the bullet vibe, and telling me to calm down and get ready. It took me a bit to find a happy place. For a while I was angry-vibing, hating every second of that vibrator pressed against my over-sensitive body, cursing him for “ruining my good scene time”. It took a little bit, but I got there. I found a good place.

I always do though. Those kind of scenes, heavy ones, I need those way more than the lighter fluff scenes. I just don’t always know that at the time. It’s hell to get there, but what lies over the horizon is fucking wonderful. For both of us.

I don’t know if he wanted these pictures behind a cut or not, but I’m doing it anyway. He didn’t tell me I couldn’t.

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“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away”

Last night we engaged in some breathplay.

…..

…..

I’ve been sitting here for longer than I should be and that’s as far as I’ve gotten. Last night we engaged in some breathplay.

I feel like I should flood the post with warnings about the risks of breathplay and links to websites that lay out scary statistics about heart attacks and death. I have them, too. Links that is. Links that want to frighten *me* out of doing it. But letting those fears creep in after the fact is taking away from the heady, high-flying headspace I currently have . So. All I will say is this – Be smart when you play. We are.

~~*~~

It was the oddest thing, really. The whole experience. Mindfuck extraordinaire.

Though he will often do some amount of cutting off my air when we’re fucking, it’s done at key moments close to orgasm. It heightens it, makes the world *pop* into color and it’s amazingly intense and personal. But this time there was no fucking (or at least not yet)… no intimate touching, no build up to a toe-curling climax, no whispered words of ownership. There was nothing except him…

He circled me constantly as I sat, securely tied to the chair. I’d never felt more like prey than I did during that hour. He’d never looked more dangerous, more like a predator. Always circling, circling, reaching out one moment to stroke the hair off my sweaty forehead with gentle hands, only to turn on a dime and wrap his giant hands around my neck and squeeze.

Hard.

I couldn’t move any further than turning my head, couldn’t stop him in any way. Over and over again, he choked, smothered, strangled me breathless, and then slapped my face, and the world, back into focus.

There was one crazy eerie moment when he’d just let me take a breath and as my cloudy brain cleared, the lyrics of the song on the cd slammed into my ears. These lyrics “every breath that is in your lungs is a tiny little gift to me” and I about popped out the chair with the need to tell him “do you hear? are you listening? did you hear what that just said!?” but as I opened my mouth to say it, he slammed his hand over my mouth and nose and it was lost again in the gray hazy world of being smothered.

(This morning, I had to listen to the cd again, song by song, word for word, half convinced I’d had a hallucination from lack of oxygen. But I found it, I DID hear it, and it was this song here)

But those words began to circle. I don’t think I heard another song after that, just the beat and those prophetic words “every breath that is in your lungs is a tiny little gift to me” as over and over again, he made those lyrics my reality.

Today – my throat is tight, scratchy. My neck and jaw are achy, my head throbs with a slight hangover-ish headache, and my face is puffy, red, and is faintly mottled with purple-red dots from tiny burst capillaries.

But inside where it counts? I’m full. Sated. Time and time again he showed me how easily and perfectly he controls me, my life – and that was music to my starving soul.

If breathplay isn’t your thing, don’t go behind the curtain. It’s very picture intensive.

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Just a swingin’

He always says that he’ll give me just enough rope to hang myself with. Yesterday he mimed swinging a lasso around his head, going "wheeeeee! wheeeeeeee! wheeeeeee!"

Point taken. I’m dangling.

He’s said that I’ve been possessed by an uppity bitch and he’s relishing the opportunity to beat her out of me. Honestly? So am I. It won’t erase my "epiphanies" (that he has yet to be impressed with, the Bastard) (probably because to him, they aren’t epiphanies at all. Merely long known facts that I’m too dim-witted to catch and hang on to.) but it will, once again, realign what matters.

So! I’ll be taking a few days off and when I come back, Master says to expect a return to our regularly scheduled blog.

Before I go though, I wanted to real quickly address a comment about my happiness. Or more specifically, my satisfaction with this life.

I am sure that there are times when I come across as being insanely miserable. Unhappy, dissatisfied, utterly bummed, etc., etc. Well. Who doesn’t?

Who is always 100% ecstatic about life? Who doesn’t get the blues or have moments when what is normally a pleasure becomes draining or tiresome? Everyone does and I’m no different. And I’m just not about sugar-coating things. If I’m not particularly pleased with something, I say so. It should be okay to talk about the ugly side of something without that meaning that I dislike the entire thing. Sometimes I complain about my kids too, but that shouldn’t translate into me being an unhappy mother. Just sometimes, it isn’t perfect. Means nothing more, and nothing less.

If there weren’t lows, the highs wouldn’t be so fucking incredible. ;-)

I’ll be back if Master wants a picture posted but otherwise I’m out of here for bit.

Beam me up, Scotty.

~cunt

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