Vanilla…

…with sprinkles.

We had a really pleasant weekend. It was busy, but nice. It was rushed, but relaxing. And it was vanilla, right up to the end.

This has to have been the very first time since we have known each other that we weren’t stripped and fucking like bunnies on crack within the first 5 or 6 hours of seeing each other. Friday, we went out for dinner, we watched movies, we tried to drink beer but I got halfway through the second bottle and had just had enough.

Then we got tired and went to sleep.

Saturday we spent way too many hours working in the basement and outside and in the shed, we watched more movies, minus the beer. Got tired and went to sleep.

Normally, that would have sent me on a long and emotional journey of doubt and question and worry. No s&m at all. No sex at all. Obviously He hates me and can’t wait to be rid of me, right??

But it didn’t. I wasn’t worried at all. In fact, the noticeable lack of angst was very comforting. I’m not concerned about anything. I’d much rather He use me/hurt me when it feels like the right thing to be doing and not because we’re on some limited time table and it *has* to be done. Lots of times I work myself into a panic (no, really.) if the weekend is winding down and He’s not made me cry yet.

He had to leave early on Sunday, flying off to North Dakota this time. I felt cheated out of time together, they don’t usually schedule flights on His weekends off.

We had sex this morning. Twice in fact. The usual way we do it, with lots of nipple pinching and hair pulling. Grunts and whimpers and lots of orgasms. Then He rolled me over for a nice spanking. One of those that could lull me back to sleep if I had the guts to actually fall asleep on Him. Just stingy enough to make me bounce but leaving a deep, tingling warmth behind.

Several times during the spanking, He’d pause and pull my cheeks apart, peering down at my lewdly exposed asshole. This embarrassed me to no end because fresh from the shower I wasn’t. Hardly retaining freshness from yesterday’s shower and after being fucked twice, my prudishness kicked in. Each time He did it, I’d squeeze my cheeks together as hard as I could and chastise Him, ordering Him to “git outta there!”

Of course He ignored me and though I like to think I could keep Him out of there by squeezing my cheeks together, buns of steel I do not have. So peer and examine He did, and desire to be swallowed up by the mattress *I* did. But inbetween embarrassing asshole-exams, He did deliver a lovely spanking, even pulling His belt from His jeans (and how enticing is that swish of leather through belt loops?) and cracking me several times with that. It was a new belt though, stiff and hard and soon enough I was bouncing and rolling from side to side until He quit.

As I was lying there though, submitting to those periodic moments of spread-n-peek, I started trying to think of the meanest thing He’s ever done to me. There are many. Many many many..lol. Hard to choose really, as most of them fall under the meanest in certain categories. Meanest most painful and meanest most humiliating and meanest most isolating. But meanest mean?

I had almost decided that it would have to have been the day He chained me naked to the rafter in the freezing cold basement and made me sweep. But then I thought of something else and decided this was it.

It was several months ago, back when Dusty was just a kitten. He’d had me lying naked on my stomach on the floor in front of Him. He had been caning me, and quite ruthlessly too. I was stinging and sore and already sniffling. And mad. (I do that. I get mad. I’m still struggling with that reaction. But that’s another post.)

All of sudden, little kitty Dusty expresses an interest in the tip of the cane, batting at it as He waved it through the air. He begins sliding the cane tip up and down my body, slowly, from my feet, up the backs of my legs, over my striped and stinging thighs and ass cheeks, following my spine to the top of my head and then all the way back down again. Following in hot pursuit, with 20 tiny needle-sharp kitten claws was Dusty, determined to kill the cane tip.

I don’t know how long He ran the cane up and down, leading the kitten on a mission to claw my entire back side. I only remember that it hurt. The kitten’s claws were unforgiving as he made pounce after pounce at the cane, never catching the wood, but only snagging my skin. And I remember Master laughing. He was simply amused by the pouncing kitty, and that I was under it, and had broken down into absolute hysterical sobbing, went unnoticed.

I’m not entirely sure why that time stands out as incredibly mean to me. It wasn’t the pain, He’s certainly had me in more pain than that lots of times. Yet, there it is. That’s what stands out in my mind. Weird huh?

~cunt

One for the Experts

Here’s one for the dream interpreters.

Yesterday afternoon while lying on the couch with Master, I fell asleep. Master said I was doing some moaning, some wiggling and was pretty resistant to waking up. Here’s part of what I was dreaming.

There was a group of girls, though none that I recognize, and we were all waiting in a room for our Master. Our master was Satan. And it was said in a moaning chanting sort of way…Master Satan… Master Satan.. Satan was the old fire and brimstone type of satan. Red, sinewy, horns and tail… and mean, cold laughter. Us girls were falling to our knees offering him gifts (It was his birthday…lol) but before he would accept the gifts we had to sexually please him. Master Satan’s cock was large and hot and blood red and we all had a turn, blow jobs and anal… but nothing was satisfying him. I remember lots of crying from us girls and a huge sense of despair and failure. The last thing I recall was me kneeling at his feet sucking on his two big toes, which were penis-length with huge curling toenails, while another girl was riding his cock…. and looking up I caught the flashing red of his cock as it pulled out of her before slamming back in… the screams from the girl “hot hot hot” as his cock was burning her… and his laughter.

That’s when I woke up. And it’s been disturbing me ever since. I dreamed I was fucking Satan.. how fucked up is *that*??