The Darkness

Sometimes, darkness overwhelms me and my soul drifts

light as translucent as fog in the coldness of dawn.

Unforgiving limbs of my fears weave themselves 

into my very cells.

I am trapped in my own past 

from which escape is insensible.

I am lost in the white darkness

stumbling into the forest of memories.

Desperate and afraid.

Then, the Sun fights to burn the cold

dispersing the suffocating fog.

Helios with his fiery chariot 

vanquishing the soft, cloying darkness,

leading me home.

Fear and Memory remain 

but now a mere swirling in the shadows

My God has answered my prayers.

He has gather my soul again

and brought it home.

How to handle a disobedient Sub

I saw that look in her eye when she stood for inspection. She was in a mood, which was a challenge to my authority over her. She knows good and well that I would never do anything to harm her or cross any of our hard limits, but she also knows good and well that when I tell her to prepare for something we have previously agreed to, she'd best get on with in. We had planned tonight for a while and when she stood nude for my inspection, her eyes glared daggers at me. 

Problem?

Yes. I've changed my mind. I don't want do this.

"And you think telling me now will change that. Now, when my guests are due to arrive at any moment? 

She says nothing, but glares at me. 

Not often, but once in a while, she challenges me in such a way. I realize this is a test to see if I will actually force her to go through with our plans for the evening or if I will cave to her demands. Let me assure you. I do NOT cave.

Kneel

She hesitantly does so and I affix the blindfold. She begins to speak and I put my hand over her mouth.

The only reason for you to open your mouth tonight is to accept a cock in it.

Whatever

I slapped her. Her eyes widen in shock, then she lowers them and slowly nods.

I smile at this. Next, remind her that she has agreed to all of this and I will certainly hold her accountable. She remains kneeling when the doorbell rings and I usher in my guests - two gentlemen I know but she does not. She will service them in anyway that I require. She will not see them nor will she speak  unless to say her safe word. We sit in the parlour, drinking cocktails, laughing, chatting. Them men keep their eyes focused on my submissive who, smartly, keeps her head bowed and her hands crossed demurely. I notice the cocks of my friends are now quiet anxious and what kind of a host would I be If I did not accommodate them. Besides, I love to see her service other men. 

Bill, which hole do you claim?

Her mouth

Very good. Stephen?

Her pussy

Excellent choice. That leaves her ass for me. Would you gentlemen prefer all together or one at a time.

My friends glance at each other and Bill answers.

Let's prolong this, so, one at a time.

I see her shudder a bit at that and I place my hand on her shoulder. Sadly, she showed a bit of resistance earlier so I will ask you gentlemen to avoid gentleness. Feel free to use her as you desire. Bill, why don't you go first.

He steps up to her, grasps her hair and forces her hair back.

Unzip my pants, Bitch.

She tenses at the rude name, but does as she is told. His cock springs free and he pushes its entire length into her mouth. She begins to gag and press her hands against his thighs. I tsk, tsk and hold her hands behind her. Bill fucks her mouth mercilessly and within a few minutes moans, his cum leaking down her chin. I lean down and whisper to her: Yet another mistake, my dear. You know you are to swallow.

Stephen steps up. He pulls her up by her arms and leads her to the chair. He has her kneel on the seat and bend over the back. His cock is already out and he enters her wet pussy. I can see her juices glistening on her thighs. As he fucks away, he slaps her ass cheek. Not both, just the right one. The skin turns first pink, then red. She whimpers but does not speak. Finally, pulls out and shoots his load across her hot, scarlet ass cheek. 

Now, it's my turn. I have plans. Asking Stephen and Bill to assist me, we bind her to a long board. She is tied to it by her wrists, her chest, her legs, her ankles. Before I tie her lower extremities, I lift her hips up onto a rolled pillow. Then, I kneel, my throbbing cock over her asshole. Using her own juices, I use two fingers to lubricate her tight hole and then slowly enter her. She tenses and cries out, but says nothing. Perhaps she's learned her lesson. Slowly, I pull out. Then in. Then out. She strains against her bounds, trying to match my strokes, but she cannot move. I fuck her slowly, gently even. Then the moment comes. She tenses and begins to tremble. I know she's on the edge. And this is where her true punishment comes in. I pull out. She cries and tries to turn her head toward me. I stand before her and say:

No, I'm not going to beat you for your disobedience. I'm going to keep you on edge. All night. I'm going to have one more drink with the boys here, then they will leave. After that, I'll fuck your ass some more. You, though, will be denied orgasm. If you're good, perhaps I'll give you relief tomorrow. Until then, you may as well resign yourself to a very long, frustrating night.

She dropped her head to the board and sighed. I lifted her chin and saw one tear trail down her cheek. I kissed her forehead and smiled. She smiled back. Yes, I was right. Her defiance had been a test for me and I had, most assuredly, passed.

Belted

That sound. That terrifying, wonderful sound. His belt slowly brushing against the denim as he pulls it free of the loops. I know that sound. It makes me shiver with dread and moisten with anticipation. My mouth goes dry and my nipples harden. I know what is coming and I welcome it as much as I fear it. I could beg but it would do no good. I could cry but he would know they were not true tears this soon. I could say "Redlight" and he would stop, but we both know I will not say that - at least not yet. 

I have committed no grievous error. I have not spoken rudely. I have not broken a rule. This is not for a correction. This is for pleasure. His, yes, but I cannot deny it is for mine as well. I stand and face him, watching wide eyed and keep silent. He will tell me what he wants. He may want me on the bed, lying still under my own willpower. He may test my ability to endure. This prospect is truly fearful since if I fail - if I turn over or try to protect my bottom with my hands - He will find some other way to punish me. Once, after the spanking, he rubbed a very light coating of capsan on my skin. I burned and cried for hours.

Perhaps he will tie my hands so that I cannot protect myself. Oh, I could still dance away - or at least attempt to, but he enjoys this. He laughs. He is very, very good and placing his belt exactly where he wants it; how hard he wants it - where and how I will feel it most but receive no lasting damage. If I turn around, he will belt the tops of my thighs - or worse, my breasts. ARE YOU READY? he asks. I gulp and nod. He frowns and I quickly answer: Yes. DO YOU WANT THIS? he asks. I answer: Oh yes, please, I do.

I never lie to him.

Red headed Fantasy

Ginger Myths:

1.  Gingers have a fiery temper.

2.  Gingers are hot in bed.

3.  Gingers gain one freckle for every soul they steal.

4.  Gingers have no souls

5.  It is impossible to tame a Ginger.

6.  Gingers are unpredictable and dangerous.

7.  Gingers are witches.

8.  Gingers will burst into flames in the sunlight.

Speaking as a Ginger, I'd like to address some of these myths.  Number 1.  Gingers have a fiery temper.  Sometimes true, but who doesn't. Treat us with respect, consideration and we will do anything for you. Our loyalty is as unfailing as our passion (again, I'm speaking for myself here).  I bow my head before no one, even the One I love. Nonetheless, I will go on my knees before him. I will anoint his body with kisses. I will honor him as he wishes me to because not he has earned my respect by giving the same to me. I will bear no only my entire (and yes, I do mean ENTIRE) body for his use and pleasure, but I bare my soul to him as well.

Number 2:  Gingers are hot in bed. umm. Yes. This is true.


Number 3:  Gingers gain one freckle for every soul they steal.  Not true at all. We do not steal souls. Souls, hearts, devotion are all freely give to us by those who love us. We take nothing, we simply gratefully accept the gift of love and admiration.

Number 4:  Gingers have no souls. Total poppycock. See above.

Number 5:  It is impossible to tame a Ginger. Define "tame." And seriously, would you really even want to tame her natural exuberance, creativity, spirit? But to answer, yes, a man can tame a ginger. To do so, he must be kind, firm, clear in his expectations, patient, consistent but able to adapt to her changing moods and willing to dig deep enough to discover that fine line between glorious consequences for misbehavior and revenge inducing punishments. Once he has uncovered her needs, she will strive to please him and accept correction at his hand.

Number 6:  Gingers are unpredictable and dangerous. Aren't all women? Can you say hormones? I'm going through a "magical" time of life right now and I can't even predict what my moods will be, if I will be hot or cold, if I will laugh or cry. I freely admit this makes life quite challenging for my One, but again, patience and caring enough to see warning signs and to know me well enough to know what I need has played in his favor. A few nights ago I was crabby, unhappy, sad and angry at the world for no good reason. You know what he did? He ran a hot bath for me and lit pretty candles in the bathroom while I was pacing back and forth muttering about various unpleasantness. Then, he handed me a glass of my favorite wine and kissed me. He told me to go take a bath and relax. He expected nothing of me that night. He simply held me in his arms as I went to sleep. The next day - I couldn't have felt more loved and cared for. I made him a cake. See - not dangerous at all.

Number 7:  Gingers are witches. Only if we want to be. Personally, I do. I love the basic tenet of Wiccan - DO HARM TO NONE.  Seriously, who can argue that that isn't a good thing!!  I admit, I don't always follow this belief, but I try to. I also have a deep and abiding respect for nature and try as much as possible to use natural, chemical free products. I think I'm rather a kitchen witch. I mutter little "spells" (which are really no more than prayers) as I cook. I want the food that I prepare for my friends and family to nourish them, but also to bring them joy in the flavor and texture.  After all, eating is without doubt a very sensuous activity.

Number 8:  Gingers will burst into flame if exposed to the sun.  Well, this is kind of true. I can be outside in the bright sunlight for about 10 minutes before I start to burn. I've learned to be protective of my skin - using 100+ sunblock when I'm outside for long periods of time. My moisturizer and make-up all have sunscreen in them and I have added sunscreen to my hand lotion as well. I've suffered from blistering sunburns numerous times and have no wish to do that again. Besides, my One likes the fairness of my skin tone and so do I.
(Disclaimer:  None of these photos are of me.)

Punished with Pearls

How, I ask myself, could He possibly use pearls for punishment. If anyone can, though, it would be Him. He is nothing if not creative. For the next seven days, I will wear pearls. Constantly. As in 24/7. Sounds lovely, right? Think again. Think of how difficult it is to walk with pearl panties, the nubs rubbing against your nub constantly.

Or to sit through dinner, a movie and cocktails after with pearls linking your pussy and  ass holes together.That was last night. He also had me wear a white dress, thin cotton, and no panties so if i became the least little bit wet - which I did - he would know (as would anyone else who might be looking.). After four hours of this, He finally took me home and fucked me - but left the pearls in while he did. Only when he shot his load across my belly did he remove them - quickly.

Today, he has tied me to a chair with pearls while He eats me. If I move even a bit, the pearls make a noise, a movement. For each noise or movement of the damned little balls I get five licks with His belt. I'm up to twenty so far.

I swear - i will NEVER complain about my lack of jewelry again!

His Night

I sucked in my breath, feeling a lot like Scarlet O'Hara.  The boning pressed against my skin, tight and restrictive, but I feel beautiful. Tonight, I will be elegant and graceful and I will have no doubt in my mind that I belong to him. He tells me to stand still. Once more he tightens the laces. I feel him tie them in place, securing my posture. He lifts the dress I spent hours selecting and places it over my head. He zips me into it and I spin, a bit lightheaded - whether from the shallow breathes, the tight lacing encasing my ribs, the stripped bottom, the metal plug in my anus or the excitement of being present on His arm at tonight's dinner - I'm not sure.

Five hours ago I began the process of preparing for tonight. He left a list of instructions, which I followed. I gave myself an enema - which I hate doing, but it is far better to self administer rather than submit to the humiliation of him administer it. I plugged myself then showered, shaved, and oiled my body. By this time, I was cramping and, glancing at the clock, was relieved to see that I could now eliminate. He insisted that I be totally cleaned - inside and out.

I stood in front of the bed, my wrists and ankles bound to the posts. He inspected me, tweezing out any hair I had missed. Luckily, he found few. For each one he found, I would be punished with five strikes of his hand, the flogger, the cane, his belt. His choice, naturally. Four hairs he found. Five strikes with each implement. He ran his fingers down my slit, laughed when he felt the wetness. He dipped into my pussy, one finger, two, three, four. I moaned as he used his finger to fuck me slowly. I came within moments.

He released my wrists and pushed me onto the bed, my ankles still bound. Using his wet fingers, he probed my anus. One finger, two. I winced and he scissored his fingers, opening me. I relaxed against him, wanting more. He added a third and pushed into me, his other hand pinching my nipples just hard enough to send electricity to my clit. I came again. In the midst of this, he let go of my breast and grabbed the plug. A rather large, egg shaped stainless steel device set with a lovely stone at the base. He pushed it inside of me - hard and fast. I gasped at the pain, but before I could pull away, his cock was in me. I expected fast and hard, but he gave me softness, gentleness, seeing to my pleasure before his own. This mixture of harsh discipline and gentle loving confused my senses and I felt myself floating in a beautiful mist. I came again and so did he.

Now, my arm is looped through his, his corset hugging my body, his cum dripping down my thighs, his plug stretching my ass, his marks burning my cheeks and upper thighs. He walks me out into the night, the cool breeze ruffling my hair. Tonight, I am his in every sense of the word and I couldn't be prouder.

We have gotten into a rut so Mister has decided on an experiment and I have agreed. For the next week, we will transport ourselves to a former time. He will be a gentlemen and I his Lady. We will erase the past 150 years or so and go back to a time when women ran the household and men provided and protected. Just to add to the illusion, we will even dress the part, use candles or flamed lamps, no internet or other electrical devices. We will, naturally, splurge and have modern plumbing - on this I insisted. We will stay at a lovely cottage in an isolated wooded area. The home will be heated with a fireplace and braziers.

I will wear traditional clothing - split bloomers, corset, long dresses. I will be spanked nightly, ritualistically. I will not count the swats - that would imply I am to have knowledge of what has come. Rather, he will decide what is reasonable. I will give him head or spread my legs for him whenever he wishes to execute his husbandly rights. He has an arsenal of tools and toys he may use on me at his discretion. Just the act of preparing for this week has left me soft, tender, wet and happy. He smiles at me more, gently speaks to me, compliments me. For my part, I see his strength, am aware of the nuances of his voice, his eyes. Yes, I think this week could be the beginning of a very, very positive change in our relationship.

Think again

Do you really think I will allow you to get by with this? Think again Little Miss. That body, the one you just insulted, that body is mine. You signed the contract, you gave me your vow, you have not used a safe word. For your information, I like curves on a woman. If I wanted bones, I'd be a dog.

Further, I like your scars. That one on your belly is a testament to our daughter's birth. The others remind me that you are human and not actually a goddess, although god knows, I think of you as such.

I also happen to like that bit of silver in your hair. Yes, both on top and fringing that lovely wet pussy of yours. The lightness of the color contrasts perfectly with the darker red tones. Each gray hair is proof that you are not a young woman who is unsure of herself, but rather a confident and strong woman.

So, with that in mind, if you think you're going to speak ill of that which I love, think again. And, while you're thinking, lay yourself over my lap. I suddenly have a great desire to see that shapely, round bottom of yours all pinked up. Maybe that will help remind you of just how beautiful I think you are.

Hair Brush Disciplined.

I pleased him. So much so, that he has allowed me to wear a new dress. This may not seem like much, but last week I seriously displeased him and for punishment, my clothing has been taken away. I must now earn back every stitch of clothing from shoes to bra to socks. He has also promised to keep my ass or thighs or breasts reddened at all times, just never all three at once (thank the goddess!). What did I do to incur his wrath? I refused to where what he requested of me to an important meeting with a client. He wanted me to wear a lovely dress over a matching bra and panty set, garter belt and stockings. I instead wore black pants and a turtle neck. I don't even know or remember why I chose to disobey his simple and reasonable request, but I did. This morning, though, I came to him after his morning shower before he ordered me to do so. I handed him my hairbrush and bent over, placing my hands on the edge of the bathtub, and waited. Five swats - hard - on both cheeks. I whimpered, but did not move as I have done for the last week. When he gently patted my hot bottom I knew he had finished and so I spun around, sat on the floor at his feet and began to caress his balls with my lips. I didn't use my hands at all, only my mouth, as he likes me to do when I'm being punished. (I LOVE the feel of him, so he denies this to me.) I moved to his cock and swallowed it, keeping my eyes upward toward his. I continued to worship his cock until he pulled out and sprayed his pleasure over my breasts. Only then did I rise, to prepare his breakfast. Afterwards, he gave me a dress and took me for a walk - the first time I've been outside of my home in a week. 

When we get back to the house, I will, naturally, disrobe again while he inspects my bottom to see if it is still red. If it is not, I will raise my hands, grasp the top of our four poster bed and offer him my breasts, still crusted from his seed. If he accepts my offer, he will clamp my nipples and slap my breasts until they are bright red. This is the most humiliating and painful punishment for me to endure, but I am determined to show him that I have learned to obey, that I will not again disappoint him, that I willingly give all to him.

I hate that I disobeyed him, but, truly, I love his discipline.