Thursday, September 25, 2008

Wednesday Woes

I wish I lived in the same city as Master. I'm not going to see him this weekend, and even though that's my own fault, I'm still pretty sad.

Monday, September 22, 2008

Lilac Petals

The day transitioned seamlessly into night, so that when we got up after watching a movie, we were both appalled when we checked the clock. When time passes this effortlessly, I become suddenly aware of every word, every movement, every breath, as if to compensate for the moments I might have missed when I wasn't paying attention.

Master went to the bathroom and I waited for him outside, nestling my body into the corner by the door. When the handle turned and he egressed, I jumped out at him with a squeal. He started violently and recoiled his hands into his chest, while I doubled over with amusement at my little trick. Then, after the brief moment of assessing the situation, he grabbed me and clipped the wrist cuffs behind my back. We both laughed—though my giggles became increasingly hesitant—as he dragged me to the bed, where he lay down and pulled me across his lap. The television screen was flickering and his eyes trailed the moving images, even though his fingers played underneath my knit skirt and jutted into my cunt. I cocked my head toward him.

“Hello,” I said cheerfully when I caught his eye.

We burst into fresh laughter. But when he wiped his wet fingers on my legs, I grew silent and still. I knew he was amused, not angry, but goosebumps hardened along my skin when he brought my skirt over my hips and stroked his palm across my ass.

“Do you need to be reminded about who owns you?” he asked. He raised his palm, ever so slightly, without even moving his fingers, before repositioning it flush against my flesh.

“No, Master.” I turned my head so that he couldn’t see the worry in my eyes.

We lay in silence for a minute longer, until he pushed me off his lap and stood up. My stomach surged with anxiety when he slid his hands through the triangles of my bound arms, hoisted me off the bed and led me to the table. When my hips touched the wooden edge, he pressed his hand firmly into my back, until my stomach, then my breasts, then my cheek were pressed flat against the cool surface. His hand wriggled between my thighs and slapped the insides until I parted my legs and he was satisfied with the distance between them. Then, I waited quietly as he rummaged through the box of toys that I had left out.

The faint scent of manufactured cherry flavour wafted inexplicably through the air, it's source only resolved when I felt Master spread a thick lubricant along the cleavage of ass. Despite the nervous clenching of my stomach, I commanded my muscles to relax and instead of fighting, to welcome the warmth of his touch with the warmth of my rectum. When he slid the anal plug into me, it glided in as effortlessly as the blue sky had dissolved into dusk.

Then, his hands left me and I was left in a pseudo-solitude.

Even though I knew he was nearby, studying me, I could no longer feel his touch or hear his heartbeat. My stomach turned as I contemplated his potential expression and wavered in unsurety about how to fill in the details. Would there be a little smirk, a glinting eye, a furrowed brow? Before I could run through the combinations, he leaned over me and swept away the veil of hair obscuring my eyes.

He smiled.

“I’m proud of you for not crying,” he said.

The gentle upward curve of his lips and the steady blue of his eyes were more beautiful than my mind's illustration could have anticipated. I smiled too.

Only then did the tears start to form. He released my hair, and under the safety of the curtain of black strands, I blinked the moisture back and swallowed the lump that had jumped into my throat. A few months ago, the idea of being owned, of being dependant on another person terrified me. Now, it’s the idea of not being his that frightens me and brings me to tears.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008


A few quick things before I head to bed:

1. Last weekend, Master said something along the lines of "you aren't so much of a slave as you are a submissive girlfriend". I don't really understand if it was just a casual observation with no underlying insinuations, an indication that he was happy with the way things were turning out, or a note to himself that he wanted me to be more of a 'slave'. But he appeared to be happy with me at the time so I didn't really think too much about it. However, he is constantly saying that he is too lenient with me, and that he thinks he should be more strict. I'm all for him doing what makes him happy. Inevitably, I have my preferences about how I'd like to be treated, but I also realize that while he must meet my basic needs, I don't want this relationship to be centered on my desires. Through retrospective analysis of his comment, I realized that I just want him to be happy. I just want to be the girl he wants me to be.

2. I have a urinary tract infection. I suspected it slightly on the weekend, because my morning urine was cloudy and smelled funny, and I kept getting sudden and urgent needs to pee (I was even whipped for interrupting sex twice: once to pee and once when we were in position that pinched my legs in a way that made my pelvis hurt). Yesterday, I had to go to the toilet constantly, but attributed it to the copious amounts of water that I had been drinking. Today, however, I didn't drink nearly as much but have been peeing just as frequently. However, with less fluid intake, peeing is now accompanied by painful burning and blood involvement. I've never had a UTI before but know it can be common after lots of sex. I'm trying to prevent it from getting worse with water and cranberry juice. If I need antibiotics, then the infection is probably bad enough that I shouldn't be having sex, especially since the antibiotics interfere with the absorption of my birth control pill anyway. I guess this serves me right for being such a needy, begging slut last weekend...and I suppose I will have a lot of oral practise this weekend.

3. I am a lucky girl. I have a really good Master. Yes, a Master, not just a dominant boyfriend. If he wants more from me, he can have more from me.

I recently had a discussion with a close female friend about her boyfriend's obsession with anal sex. Every time a girl acts up, he jokes that the girl deserves to be taken anally to be put in her place. These are pretty graphic words coming from a subdued, nonviolent, vanilla guy. My friend told me that despite being in love with him, she had no desire whatsoever to be taken anally. I told her that this was exactly the point: anal is a submissive act. I told her that if she wanted to give him something for the sheer sake of making him happy, without any benefit to her, she should reframe her thoughts and consider trying it. She pondered it for a bit and told me that she would be open-minded.

This made me feel like a complete hypocrite because not only have I been very negative towards anal play, I also had a giant breakdown when Master tried to put a butt plug in me. Granted, this was the day I got back from my trip and had a general breakdown, so that skews the entire experience. However, preaching submission to vanilla folks has made me realize that I am ready to put Master's pleasure ahead of my fears and try this whole anal thing again. I won't lie, I not-so-secretly hope that he hates it and doesn't want it, but if he doesn't...and he ends up loving it, I'll take comfort in knowing that he is happy. And instead of whining and frowning, I will try to smile and be a good, little slave.

Monday, September 15, 2008



- I’ve come to enjoy sex immensely. To the point that I am reduced to begging for it like a little slut: grinding my hips against Master, humping his leg, kissing his neck and ears, rubbing my breasts along his chest, while skimming my hands over his torso and stomach, until he flips me onto my back and fucks me. We had sex so many times this weekend that I lost count. Each position has its unique charm but I’m now fascinated with new discovery of spooning. I’m not actually sure how it is for Master but it’s pretty awesome for me; good stimulation of the frontal wall of the vagina, cuddling, lots of breast and clit action. Master told me that he’ll reserve that for when I’ve been a good girl. Sex, in general, just seems to get better and more comfortable with practice.

- I would like to figure out how to make myself climax just so I know that it’s possible through sex, and so Master can actually control my orgasms—as opposed to my simply being unable to do it. I’d also like to be able to tell when Master is about to come; physically it doesn’t feel different at all when he is reaching climax. Perhaps eliminating the condoms will help.

- I like spooning because it is so gentle…but I also like when Master is really rough. I test him a little bit; I try to move my hands when he’s pinning me down to see if he’s really serious about holding me in place. Recently, I’ve been raising my hips a lot when he’s fucking me on my back—which I’m not allowed to do—to see how he reacts. Yesterday was good, he grabbed my hair and pulled my head back and choked me with his other hand, and fucked me hard as he told me to be his doll and to stop moving. I was hoping he would slap me during sex but he knows I like that, so I think he tries to avoid it.


- I’m pretty sure I don’t like too many types of pain, but I like roughness, anticipation and feeling controlled. I think these are all confounding factors that contribute to my getting wet every time Master hurts me. Usually spankings come with being pushed into a corner, or thrown against the table, or pulled across Master’s lap and held there. I like the fact that I don’t really like the pain, but I still have no choice about what is to come. I like that Master can hurt me or do whatever he likes with me. I think it’s definitely a mix of factors that get me so wet during punishment. However, I don’t think the pain itself is what arouses me.

- That being said, while certain types of pain are really frightful for me, some can be okay. For instance, I hate stingy pain, ie. from rapidfire spankings, the flogger after about 10 strokes, ruler, wires, the cane…anything that really snaps back, since the momentum stings and burns. I hate pinching pain, mainly the clamps on my breasts and lips of my vagina. However, I do like the duller, heavier sort of pain from slower spankings, where the hand seems to sink in deeper into the flesh and doesn’t reverberate so quickly or even the first, lighter touches of the flogger where the body of the lashes fall, before their tips snap at my skin. I think the place is important too. There are certain areas of my bum that feel good when being smacked. However, hitting the same spot repeatedly obviously hurts. Hitting the less fleshy areas along the sides of my bum and my thighs and calves hurt terribly. My breasts are absolutely terrified of any pain. Context is also important. I like being put into my place, but don’t like it if Master is terribly upset with me. I’d rather be hit for no reason, just because Master knows he can, then have done something bad.

- The cane is awful. Three hard smacks can make me cry. Even when Master is trying to be playful, the lighter taps from it begin to hurt very quickly, just because it’s such a dense material , with a highly concentrated force. At the lighter strokes of the flogger—where the lashes fall as a group and it’s more difficult to discern the edges of each lash—and the full palm spanks, the force is distributing over a larger area and is therefore far more tolerable. However, I can definitely see how the flogger can be bad with heavier, faster strokes. It seems like anything can be be good or bad depending on how it’s used: it’s all about timing, pattern, area, and energy.

Domestic things

- I was initially very resentful about the idea of domestic work. I still can’t foresee doing everything in a long-term relationship because one person doing all the work—especially when both parties are working full-time jobs—is unrealistic, impractical and straining. That being said, I don’t mind it now because I don’t have a job, I have time to wait on him, I can appreciate how hard Master works and think he should relax, and above all, I really like him. If I didn’t care about him so much, I would definitely protest domestic work and would probably require force to do it.

- We’ve been developing routine and slowly working out a stable dynamic. It’s good, it’s comforting, it’s happy. I feel less and less like I have to establish an understanding of baseline normalcy to compare this relationship to. I don’t really care as long as we are both happy. And I’m assuming that unless Master is correcting me and telling that he is not, then we are for now, both content with how things are working out.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

Mirror, Sword and Shield


Later that night, Master and I went out with one of his friends, which was practice for me acting submissive in public. Master and I have already discussed how this may be a challenge for me. But I didn’t eat until Master gave me a nod, and told me to eat freely, and I didn’t touch my drink unless Master tapped the glass or told me it was okay to. I answered questions, but waited for him to talk. He told me I did well, except for a moment where he tried to show his friend my breasts (in my dress) and I got shy, and curled away. He told me that my body belonged to him, and if he wanted to show me off that I must never refuse. I guess I can handle that...I mean it’s not like he pulled my breasts out in public and told everyone to have a feel. These are just things I have to get used to and I know I will.

On Saturday, Master and I had a bit of a lazy day. We didn’t sleep too well the night before, so the day consisted of showering, going to the mall, getting groceries, naptime, going swimming, watching tv, studying. It doesn’t sound so special but I mention these activities of daily living because I am really enthralled that D/s is compatible with normal life. I know that may sound absolutely ludicrous but when you live with fantasies saturated with bondage, and beatings, and all the usual s&m stuff, it’s really nice to know that being a submissive doesn’t mean I’ll be tied to a whipping post twenty-four hours a day; and that there can still be norlmacy and cuteness, and silliness integrated into a normal life with submissive undertones. Other things from that day: we had sex in Master’s car in an underground parking garage. That was pretty hot—I straddled him in the driver’s seat and we made-out. Then we moved to the backseat but had to leave the doors open because there really wasn’t enough space; and then he climbed on top of me, squishing my arms close to my head. Another car parked behind us towards the end, and that made it all the more exciting. Master realized before I even did that I am quite the exhibitionist. Contradictory to last week’s sex fiasco, I actually found myself badly craving sex this weekend. Later on in the day, I was playing with Master's cock in bed and pressing my body against his. He asked me if I was in heat and wanted to be fucked, and I had to admit it, because I wanted him in me so badly. So he told me to beg. And so I begged; kissing his neck, running my hands over his chest and stomach, playing with his cock and thrusting my pelvis against him, I felt like such a dirty girl.

He then told me that he would only fuck me if I offered my ass to him for a beating. So I fetched the cane, and leaned over and he snapped the dense wood across my ass until I groaned, and he gave me permission to get a condom. At first, he told me to get on top on him, and do all the work; so I slid onto him and pumped up and down, while he closed his eyes. Then, without warning, he grabbed me and pulled me down, and mounted me. “Get back to where you belong”, he told me in his low, serious voice as he encircled my wrists and held them above my head, and fucked me hard. Then, he clapped for me to get on all fours and we moved to the floor. Then he pushed my head down, so my cheek was against the ground and my ass raised to the air, and fucked me hard from behind, while rhythmically slapping me.

I really like that position; it’s quite vulnerable and I can feel Master getting much deeper. It makes me feel so dirty too…in a good way. I really like the mixture of roughness and tenderness of him on top, but doggy-style makes me feel like his plaything, his little whore. On Sunday, Master had to leave in the morning, and of course I got all upset since he hadn’t told me he was going to go so early. I understood why he had to leave and I wanted to be supportive… but once again, I was selfishly annoyed that he hadn’t told me yesterday so that I could have timed an earlier bus home, or made plans to visit friends, or do something where I wasn’t being left alone when I didn't want to be alone. But what was I to say? I didn't want to upset him and I knew he had to go, so I kissed him goodbye, and I made his lunches and cleaned up his apartment. I started to write this journal--I'm supposed to journal immediately after seeing him--but I was kind of pissed and didn't want to taint what was otherwise, a really good I thought it was better to wait. When I went to catch my bus but it was full, and I couldn’t get on, so I wandered around downtown for a few hours until the next bus. I was alternating between being frustrated, but then just feeling bad for being bitter because I ultimately don’t want to have any hard feelings against Master, especially for stupid little things, when I know he cares about me and has done a lot for me.

Now, I’m struggling through this week. Once upon a time, I used to have such good control of my life and I was so happy because I had meaning and goals, and lots of things to keep me occupied. I was working, and studying, and volunteering, running councils and events, playing sports, working out, doing all my artsy stuff. In retrospect, it was overkill because I was managing relationships through highly formalized scheduling, and I wasn’t sleeping at all. However, I was really, really happy because at the end of it, I was still doing everything I wanted to do. Right now, I’m just doing the bare minimum to get by…but I think I need to get back to that baseline satisfaction with life, because I think it’s going to have a big impact on my submission to Master. Right now, I feel like I’m not really good at anything; all my talents, interests and hobbies have sort of just withered and died within the last year. On top of that, I feel like I’m not really a good submissive yet, and I think the recent lack of sense-of-self is precluding me from growing in my submission, since I don't want slavery to be the only thing that defines me. In general, I think I really need to get back to finding purpose and meaning, since self-confidence and security are really going to help me in this relationship, prevent me from getting so emotional and taking everything so personally.

Wow, I didn’t realize all of that until I started writing.

Anyway, this journal was supposed to be really happy because I had an amazing weekend with Master. I’m not sure if that’s actually the feel you get from reading it, just because I tend to write more about things that are bothering me, even if they are just a small fraction of the things that are happy and good. Anyway, only a few more days until I see Master again! I’m off to organize my life.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Mirror, Sword and Shield

Pt I

The emotional strain of last week is long gone; replaced by a sense of happiness and gentle quietude. There were a few factors that I didn’t account for at the time: jet-lag, fatigue from a convoluted journey home, anxiety about returning to school, and the general drop that accompanies the end of a holiday, or a big move, or any large change of pace. I was distressed because I hadn’t been touched intimately in so long, I was fighting so many strong but varied emotions and my thoughts were in-between different mindsets. I was tired and instead of realizing this, I started inventing rationales for problems that didn’t actually exist.

This weekend felt completely different; relaxing, exciting and just so happy.

It started, however, with me getting overwhelmed by school. I got to school late on Tuesday night, after a couple of good friends helped me move up. After two months of travelling and constantly having to change settings, put on my ultra-extroverted personality and befriend new people, I was desperately seeking familiarity and some semblance of routine. It felt very good to have old friends accompany me back to school, but when they went back home and I was left in a house of strangers and circumstances where I was surrounded by hoardes of new people, I had a small freak out and decided I needed to leave. I know I sound crazy but I swear I’m not antisocial, I don’t suffer from social anxiety, I’m not scared of people …I’ve just had enough of introductions, and small talk, and expending energy to get know new people, so I skipped school and ran away to Master.

Running away is no easy feat when the journey to my appointed safe haven was three hours away, but I finally made it to Master’s house late on Thursday night. As per his mandate, I got into his place, stripped away my clothes and donned my wrist and ankle cuffs (a new acquisition), before he pulled me into bed and I fell asleep, nestled into his body and relishing in the comfort of it all.

On Friday morning, I woke up with him and we showered together in our usual fashion—kneeling before him in the tub and lathering him. When he was clean, he shampooed my hair while I was kneeling and rubbed suds over my breasts, and chest, and back before instructing me to rise and bend over so that he could examine, and wash my thighs and bum and cunt. After we were done, we got out of the tub and he brushed his teeth. As per our usual protocol, as I knelt behind him, my cheek nestled into his bum as I ran my hands along his thighs and between his legs as a gentle massage.

After he had dressed and was ready to leave for work, he held me, and kissed me and told me he didn’t want to go, but eventually freed me from the position he was holding me in--bent over at the table. Before he left, he gave me permission to use the furniture, study, eat and leave the house freely (although I was not permitted to remove my collar, wrist or ankle cuffs). Being in a quiet, reflective mood, I decided I really didn’t want to leave the house so I just stayed in, studied and cleaned up for him.

Master estimated he’d be home around 5:00pm, so at ten to five, I put on the schoolgirl outfit he had requested I wear, and knelt by the door. I think the worst part about being a slave is waiting—I get very impatient and agitated—and I know I have to work on it. I was getting quite annoyed when 5:00pm rolled around, then 5:20, then 5:40. I need practice kneeling; it’s hard for me to stay put for so long and it definitely contributes to my agitation. I shifted and squirmed a lot, which I’m sure Master would have not approved of…but finally, at ten to six, Master turned the door handle and entered. And when he smiled, most of the resentment just slipped away.

Master was understandably tired from work, so he went to lie down and made me kneel at the bedside as he closed his eyes. I understood his fatigue and wanted him to rest, but like a silly little dog, eagerly anticipating its Master’s return, I longed for some sort of small acknowledgement that I had been waiting on my knees for an hour, any tiny gesture of approval. I was a little crushed when he just pointed to the side of the bed, and snapped once for me to kneel again. I didn’t realize that I was externalizing my thoughts in my disposition but Master is very perceptive, and when he opened his eyes, he looked at me, gently touched my face and asked me what was wrong.

I didn’t really want to explain since I knew I was being a baby so I just told him I was okay. He hugged and kissed me and comforted me anyway…and I suddenly felt really bad, because a good slave would have made an effort to let her Master rest instead of worrying him with her unexplained tears. But I’m not a good slave yet. When I get really close to people, I go exceptionally out of my way to do things for them to make them happy, and I know my feelings for Master are deepening very quickly…but unfortuantely, there are still many times when I am selfish. I’m cannot express how thankful I am for having such a caring Master…for finding someone who is so concerned for my welfare and perceptive enough to understand when I am feeling a bit down. Strangely enough, however, his concern about my selfish needs, makes me just like him more and makes me want to do better to actually serve him.

Anyway, after he had petted me, he told me to give him a massage so I gleefully pulled out the massage oils I had brought for him--being allowed to touch him and actually do something useful is infinitely better than kneeling and waiting--and worked my way down his body, deep into his muscles, as he rested. After a long massage and a bit of a nap, he got me to practice my blowjob skills. I tried for a long time to make him come, trying my hardest to get his penis far into my throat. The brushing exercise he had given me in the summer has helped me improve my gag reflex substantially…but not completely. I still have difficulty with his cock as it is is significantly larger than the width of the three fingers I stick down my throat to practice. I also have great, great difficulty when I am trying to go very quickly because the rapidity violently triggers my gag reflex and makes me sputter. It’s pretty awful since every time I gag it just increases my salivary output and my eyes and nose get runny (I know, I know…extremely unattractive) and I end up sniffling and slobbering all over Master.

It's so awful that I can’t pleasure him well. I’m concerned about it and am blindly hoping that practice does make perfect because I don't have any other tangible solutions. I really want to get better since the very idea of a slave who cannot gratify her Master orally is ridiculous to me; I should be able to gratify him orally and pleasure him. I don’t know what I can do to practice and make it better for him; all the research and discussions I’ve had on this subject has not seemed to help me at all. The academic in me hates not being able to transfer theory to reality, the perfectionist in me hates being bad at something, but most strongly of all, the submissive in me absolutely hates the idea of not being able to please such a kind and wonderful Master, who takes such good care of me.

When Master saw me struggling so much and I couldn’t make him come, he pulled me up and told me that was enough practice for now. He unbuttoned a couple of the buttons of the dress shirt, enough to expose my bra and pull my breasts out of the cups of my bra. Then after some playful making out, he led me over to the table and blindfolded me. I could see blurry movement out of one corner of the blindfold and I saw a streak of white moving towards my breasts, I knew they were the clothespegs and I jerked away instinctively. He grabbed and yanked me back and gave me an unimpressed lecture about how I should know better than to pull away. I knew I shouldn’t have, but it’s been such an awfully long time since I’ve had those clamps on my nipples and I was absolutely terrified.

There was no escaping though and he pinned them onto me, and led me to a corner of the house, where he attached my cuffs overhead. What followed was pretty hot: if I had seen it in a movie, it would have easily become my favourite sex scenes (despite the fact that there was technically no sex).

After suspending my wrist overhead, Master got down, and hoisted me up so that my legs were on his shoulders and my weight was being supported partially by his strength and partially by the restraints above dragging my arms upwards. I was wearing my schoolgirl kilt, and I could feel his head rising underneath the fabric, the gentle brush of his nose against my mons, and then the warmth of his breath tickling my nether lips. He then proceeded to lay his mouth over my cunt, and flick his tongue over my clit until I shuddered with pleasure. He sucked my clit gently and ran his mouth tenderly at the lips, eventually pushing his tongue into me; sucking and flickering in a deliberate steady rhythm. The sensations just exploded into my stomach and when Master lifted his head up from under the fabric and set me back down, he told me that was a reward for being such a good girl and cleaning his house so well.

He left for a moment and when he returned, I felt the rim of a cool glass at my lips, and water trickling over my tongue. When the water dribbled over my lips and Master could tell I'd had enough, he moved the glass away. Then, in a moment, I felt the splash of the water against my face and chest, and squealed. After I heard the clink of the glass being set down, I in the darkness of my blindoflded world, sensed Master hovering over me. In a moment, I felt a strong grip around my throat, his fingers digging into my neck like a warm collar, as his palm pushed me hard into the wall. He began to kiss me so fiercely and deeply that I felt like he was stealing my breath. Between the kisses he clamped and unclamped the pegs from my nipples, and his tongue passed into my mouth to silence my moans. He ran his hands under the kilt, grabbing my ass in rough pulses before he finally, with one smooth movement, yanked me up so that my legs were around his hips. He thrust me against the wall, looped his hand around my hair and pulled my head back as he kissed my mouth and throat. He ran his hands down my buttoned white shirt—heavy touches that ended with both hands under the fabric, grasping the material in a tight fist. The sound of tearing fabric and buttons clinking against the floor coincided with a aggressive kiss that pushed my head and back further into the wall. He ripped my bra and his hands moved down the newly exposed flesh as my now ragged dress shirt dangled from my suspended arms.

Master dropped me purposely, and I stumbled as I landed precariously on my feet. One of his hands grabbed my cheeks and pinched them together, the other one moved again towards my hair and pulled me back. He pursed my lips with his fingers and pulled my head back and kissed and pushed me around in the corner, pulling me with hard, jerking touches mixed with a gentle movement of his fingers across my face and the comfort of his lips against mine. “I love owning this body,” he said as he forced me against the wall and made me struggle for balance, “that I can do whatever I want,” and he removed a clamp, and then squeezed it tightly against me again, “knowing that you’ll still come back for more.”

He swung me around so that the rope ahead tightened and I had to tiptoe a bit. He pulled the skirt over my bum, and began to swat ferociously. No warm up, just quick, rapidfire smacks along the sides of my bum, the outside of my thighs, between my legs—so fast and quick that I could barely register what was going on where it not for the burning enveloping the lower half of my body.

When he was done, Master turned me around again, removed the nipple clamps and blindfold before he began to play with my clit and finger me. He then brought the vibrating dildo and put it into me, attaching it to my legs. He told me to call him when I was ready to come and left me. I have issues with orgasms. I can definitely have an orgasm, but it requires being very relaxed because I tend to fight them since I think they are quite painful (not the same kind of pure pain like being hit but a weird mix of pleasure and pain sensation that scares me because it’s so intense). I also can’t orgasm from penetration alone; I can with just clitoral stimulation but I have to be really relaxed, and it’s usually best with a mix of clitoral stimulation and penetration.

So, I’m still suspended by the wrists, with this vibrating dildo inside of me at the highest setting possible. It feels good because it’s vibrating and rotating, but it’s also making me very sore and I know there is no way on earth I’m going to come. So I stand for maybe ten to fifteen minutes. Master thinks I’m crazy because there have been times where he’s left the dildo in for longer than an hour and I just can’t climax. I'll squirm and clench and get really close sometimes, but it just won't happen because I'm terrified of orgasms. So eventually, Master takes the dildo out, tells me that I'm impossible, but didn't look too upset. He clipped my wrist cuffs together behind me and then snapped once.

I knelt in the corner as he closed in over me and put his cock in my mouth. He grabbed my head and he pushed in slowly, but deeply, so that his cock was really going far into my throat. In moments where I couldn't breathe and began to sputter, he gently told me to relax--although his grip on my head was unrelenting. He slowly began to thrust into my throat, until my gag reflex really couldn't take it any more. I did feel very bad that I couldn't make him come, but he commanded me to keep my mouth open as he jerked himself off and he finished himself off as him cum exploded into my mouth and I tasted him for the first time that day.

I was very dissapointed in myself for not being able to make him come. I think he may have been dissapointed in me too, but he is so patient that I can hardly believe it. He took me by the hand afterwards and told me to clean up, and that afterwards, we would go for a swim.