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.

Submissive Tears

My tears are not a sign of weakness. They a the manifestation of release. When you take me, I will resist. I will fight for control because that is the nature of our society and culture. You must be strong for me. I need this from you. I need you to be persistent, not cruel, to convince me with determination rather than force that what you will take from me, what you demand of me, what you do to me and expect of me is not from your own selfishness, but for the good of both of us. I will not want this, initially. Slowly, firmly, convince me. Do not be afraid or hesitant in your requirements and always talk to me with patience and love. Tell me what you expect, what you will do, then do it.

You told me today you would use my ass. I don't want this. You smiled and told me to prepare an enema. You expected me to be cleaned. That I would administer a minimum of three enemas today. I complained and refused at first. Again you smiled, pulled me over your lap and spanked me until I cried, my tears signalling my release of control over to you. Then you kissed me and sent me on my way.

I obeyed. Once. The humiliation was horrific, but I followed your words. An hour later, you told me to repeat the process. I complained again and you simply raised your eyebrows. I sighed and stomped my foot, assuring you I had no need of a second application. This time, you bent me over a chair and pulled off your belt. After five stripes of the leather I again had tears streaming down my face. I am not afraid of you at all. I know if I tell you to stop you will. But I don't do this. Instead, I turn and kiss you then do as you want me to. You are right to require this. As I eliminate, I feel cleaner, more open, more relaxed.

I go about my daily chores and sure enough, an hour later, you again order me to complete my third and final cleansing. I know better than to argue this time and meekly follow your instructions. When I finish, you hold me, kiss my head and tell me how happy I've made you. My soul floats on this praise, but more, I am proud of myself and feel more of a woman than I have all week. I am strong enough to accept your control. Strong enough to give you my power and you are strong enough to accept it and use it with kindness and wisdom.

You order me to strip and I do so. You bend me over the came chair which you used to belt my bottom. I feel my face flush as you pry apart my butt cheeks and I feel something cold enter my very clean anus. I feel a burn and cry out. You soothe me with your voice and tell me that because I resisted not once, but twice, I would have to endure the burning of ginger in my anus while you again reminded me that I belonged to you. This time, it's a switch. A flexible, thin branch you have trimmed and smooth. I beg you and tell you I have learned my lesson, but you tell me that I have not. You can see the tension still in my body, you can hear the resistance in my tone and you are right.

I grasp the arms of the chair and hear the first swish of the switch. I cry out both from the burn of the ginger and the fire of the switch. I loose count of how may times you switch my bottom. I no longer shout, but my face is wet with tears and my body is loose. My mind has floated to a lovely plain of existence and my cunt is sweet with honey.

At some point, you have removed the fig because I no longer feel the internal burn. Then, I feel a cold slickness pushed into my anus. The tip of your cock presses in and I sigh. The pressure is intense and I feel I will split in two. You enter slowly but steadily. Then, you fuck my ass. hard. You use it as you would my cunt, which you ignore. You grasp my breasts and squeeze my nipples. I feel the heat of your orgasm fill my bowels and I cry even more. I have please you. I have given you control and I have served you as you wanted. You lean against my back and kiss me, telling me what a good woman I have been. I feel you slide out of me and I begin to stand but you stop me with a hand on my lower back.

You are not quite finished with my ass. You want me to remember my place for the rest of the day and so you push a large, metal egg into my ass. This will keep your cum inside of me. It is large enough to be uncomfortable but not so large as to hurt. My bottom is burning from the switch still and my asshole filled. You help me to stand, but I drop to my knees before you. I look up, tacitly asking permission. You smile and nod and I take your cock into my mouth. I suck and kiss and lick you clean, attending to your balls and thighs as well. Only when I see to you do I stand.

You tell me to shower then and to put on my house dress - a simple cotton frock. This is all I will be allowed to wear.

My tears are not a sign of weakness, they are the manifestation of my womanhood, my strength and my gift to my Lord.

Weekly Spanking

If it didn't hurt, it wouldn't make a statement.
If it didn't hurt, you wouldn't respect it.
If it didn't hurt, you wouldn't need it.
If it didn't hurt, you wouldn't come to me.
If it didn't hurt, you'd soon forget your place and mine.
If it didn't hurt, you (or I) wouldn't cry.

But now, see the beauty in the red,
the beauty in the gift,
the beauty in the acceptance.

Every time you smell the leather,
Every time you hear it snap,
Every time you see the dull sheen of the belt,
You remember.

My protection
My strength,
My love,
My belief in your beauty
My gratitude of your gift of submission.

Tell me Stop and I will do so
Tell me Yes and I will do so.

The choice is yours, always,
I bow to your needs,
but remember

If it didn't hurt, what would be the point?

Candlelight Train

Due to some odd electrical issue, or perhaps because of a whim of His desires, The train is without electricity tonight. He instructed me to light a candelabra and any other candles to illuminate our quarters. Naturally, I do as He wishes. We eat our dinner, served to us by Maddie, a personal attendant of sorts to My Lord. I am, naturally, completely nude and Maddie's presence causes me to keep my eyes lowered. Despite the hours I spend naked, I am still uncomfortable with my own body in front other anyone other than My Lord. Once we finish dining, My Lord motions to me and I kneel before him, unzipping his trousers and begin to worship his cock. I love doing this and despite hearing Maddie bustling about, clearing the table, I am focused only on My Lord. He wraps his hand in my hair and I look up at him. He has his eyes closed. Both his stomach and his cock happy and content. I feel his hips lift and I swallow his length, working my throat to keep from gagging. He pushed my head down hard, my lips meet his base and I feel the hot cream hit the back of my throat as he grants me his Pleasure.

Once I have cleaned him, I sit back on my heels, head bowed and wait for his next instructions. He offers me a hand and helps me to stand. He indicates that I am to lie on the now cleaned table. Once I am positioned, he secures my hands and ankles with soft ropes, looping them beneath the oaken boards. I can wiggle a bit, but am basically immobilized. Maddie comes then and places four pillar candles on my torso. She lights each one. Every breath I take causes them to move up and and down so I must control my breathing. My Lord kisses me and tells me to be a good girl while he enjoys his scotch.

Five, ten, fifteen minutes pass. I have no idea how long, but I watch the rise and fall of the candles and their flickering flames. The wax has melted to the point where it slowly dribbles down the sides of the candles and pools on my skin. I  hear my Lord tell Maddie to proceed. She lifts one candle and slowly, slowly drips the hot wax onto my skin. The heat scorches, but I control my instinct to twist away, conscious of the remaining three candles. Then, she positions the candle in her hand over by breast and the hot wax runs onto my nipple and down the side of my breast. I bite my lip and turn my head to the side, but remain still. She applies this treatment to the other nipple. Soon, my body is glazed with cooling wax.

She replaces the candle onto my torso. My Lord stands over me, inspecting the designs. He nods to her and she leaves. I hear the door softly click closed.

"Now, my dear, I am going to love your wet pussy with my mouth. You will remain still, for to wiggle about will cause the candles to tumble. You will learn control."

And so I did.

Train Training with Guests

We are on another trip. This time, however, we are also entertaining, which means I must act as hostess to His guests. The man is a long time friend named Bill Fillmore and is companion is Sarah Willy. I will refer to them as Mr. Fillmore and Miss Willy at all time. In addition to our own private train car, my Lord also has several pubic cars on this train. The parlour, dining, and four guest suites divided between two additional cars - a total of five cars on our small train. Milord has employed two maids, one cook, two footmen who serve as valet and waiters.

I offer our guests glasses of wine and wiggle a bit when I sit on the sturdy wooden chair which is to be my perch whenever I am not standing. Milord gives me a warning glance and I blush. This situation is my fault entirely. Before dressing, I voiced concern that the butt plug He had chosen for me to wear might slip during the evening, causing me embarrassment. He paused and agreed. Then, he called for Brad, the valet who usually assists us dress, to come and afix my corset, being sure to tie the laces quite tightly. I opened my mouth to object, but quickly closed it. Brad's presence always humiliated me, especially when my bottom was a bright red from my recent spanking. Nonetheless, milord loved to watch my face blush as Brad dressed me. Once tightly laced, milord motioned for Brad to stand back. I was then told to bend and worship His cock. I could not decide if my face or ass were redder in that moment, but I did not hesitate to do as I was told. Hesitation would only earn me another paddling. As I administered to Milord, I felt a cold steel ball enter my anus. along my tailbone, I also felt cold steel.

A hook. Milord had inserted an anal hook into my bottom. He pulled my hair back firmly and I whimpered. Then, I felt something being tied to my laces. A few moments later, Milord filled my mouth with his seed and I swallowed. He helped me stand and showed me, in the mirror, that the anal hook was own firmly attached to my corset laces - no chance of slippage. I was distinctly uncomfortable between the tightness of the corset, the size of the metal ball in my anus, my freshly spanked bottom and now, the immovable hook attached to my corset.

Milord lifted my chin, looked into my eyes and said, "We will have no squirming, whining or other indication of distress tonight shall we?"
"No, Sir."
"Are you not grateful that I took your concerns to heart, my dear?"
"Yes, I am, Sir. Thank you."

He kissed me gently, patted my bottom and allowed Brad to place the dress over my head and zip it up.


I sipped my own wine and felt a light heat creep up my face. Every move I made, every breath I took caused the hook to react. Milord must have seen this and lifted his glass slightly in my direction, a smirk on his face. Yes, he knew exactly what I was feeling. I smiled back at him, grateful indeed for his attention then turned back to listen as Miss Willy complimented me on my shoes. I hoped that the couple would retire soon, so that I could again focus entirely upon Milord.

Training on the Train

He is quite wealthy, but that is not why I love him. He is elegant, but that is not it either. He is beautiful, but that does not matter. What matters? His love and care for me. His interest in every detail of my life. His intelligence. His firmness. His kindness.

He is the owner and CEO of a private rail car company, catering to the old money. We do, therefore, travel by train. He has told me that he wishes me to accompany him on all of his trips - both business and pleasure. When we are on the train, however, I belong to him. Totally. His private car is decorated beautifully, in a lovely 1950's style but with all modern conveniences carefully concealed. He has decorated everything. He has chosen the furniture, the art, the linens, even my clothing. In keeping with the style, I will  dress in a vintage manner when entertaining his clients. Demure, sweet and always modest. However, in our private car, I will not dress unless specifically instructed to do so. Sometimes he will wish me to wear heels, sometimes a corset, sometimes only pearls. Mostly, though, he prefers me to be nude. He will use my body as he will. I will speak when spoke to only. I will be his humble and loving servant and he my loving and dominant master. I have agreed to all of this, but now I must prove to him that I truly want this.

This trip will be a short one - only three days. This will be a trial run, if you will, to see if this arrangement truly suits us both. I walk into the car and marvel at its beauty. I turn and smile at him. He crosses his arms and gives me a pointed look. A hot blush creeps up my face. My first act was to have been removing my clothing, but already I have made a mistake. I have sighed and run my hand over the furnishings first. I drop my eyes and rush into the bedroom section, removing my dress, bra, panties, stockings and shoes. I neatly fold them and put them away just as he instructed me. They are to be out of the way - out of sight. I come back into the parlour and stand before him. Now, he smiles at me, lifts my chin and kisses me, running his hands up and down my sides, my back, my arms. he deepens the kiss and grasps my nipples. Then he squeezes. I give a little yelp and start to pull away but stop myself. I hear him chuckle a bit and know he has not missed this tiny lapse. I also know he is please I corrected myself. He squeezes harder and I whimper at the pain, but feel my will bend to his, dripping out of my body and forming the honey which coats my pussy and thighs. I begin to tremble and he slowly pulls his mouth away. Keeping hold of my tender nipples, he leads me to the table and tells me to place my hands flat. He adjusts my position to his liking and then tells me to prepare myself for my first correction. I take a deep breath and steady myself. Still, I can't stop myself from crying out with the first sharp strike of the leather slapper. Four slaps - two on each cheek - and I'm already crying. Nonetheless, I am grateful, a feeling which shocks me. Without thinking, turn, drop to the floor and hug his legs, thanking him for his correction. I feel loved, safe, wanted.


Three days later, he holds out his hand and helps me down the steps of our car. He must help me, not only because he is a gentleman, but because I can barely walk on my own. My bottom is red and welted. my thigh muscles strained and shaky, my pussy swollen and tender, my anus still filled with a rather large plug. I wobble a bit on my black pumps and he steadies me. I look up at his soft eyes and smile. I can't wait for the next trip.

Ready for the Weekend

Before we go out for the weekend, my Lord has a regime he prefers to follow. First, I must be completely clean and free from hair on my legs, underarms and pubic area. I must administer an enema so my bottom is clean as well. He will then inspect me. If he finds fault, He himself will correct the error. Then, he will help me don my corset. He ties it tightly, allowing me little room for movement but enough room for breath.

 Next, He runs his hand across my pussy. He finds any stray hairs I have missed and tsks. He grabs a pair of tweezers and removes the offenders. I bite my lip but am grateful since any hair will likely get caught in the next device he has we where, so really, he is simply seeing to my eventual comfort. Satisfied, he helps me to stand and bend slightly, my hands on the bed. Slowly, he adds a bit of lube to my anus then slips in the metal plug which is attached to the cross beam of my metal chastity belt. Once in place, I stand again and he locks everything in place. Yes, to some this seems odd, but for me it is a comfort. I have been assaulted before and this device assures me that no one but my Lord can have access to me for he alone holds the key to my release. To show my gratitude for his protection, I drop to my knees and take him in my mouth. He plays with my hair, gently. I suckle him until he gives me the milk of his essence. I lick my lips and smile, pleased I have done this for him.

Finally, he hands me my dress. Some find my wardrobe odd, but I love it. The dresses he chooses for me hide the holds he has placed on me. I belong to him, am safe with him. Every move I make I feel his hand on my soul.

Throwback Thursday

She is beautiful, bent before me, waiting, her pantaloons spread, her hands holding her cheeks open. Waiting. Waiting for what she knows is coming. I make her wait. Make her think, wonder, moisten. I place the ginger within her sight line and she whimpers a bit. Still, I do nothing more. She will not move, this I know. Once she stood upright while waiting for her discipline. 20 strokes of the cane she endured that night. Plus the fig. Plus a plug inserted until the next morning. Only then did I fuck her. And then it was in her sore and tender ass. Every day for a week. But that had been when she first came to me. No, she will not move  now. Nor do I. I sit behind her, enjoying the sight, enjoying my scotch. I see the glistening evidence of her excitement and can't stop the smile from spreading across my cheeks. She is breathing deeply, placing her mind in a place of submission. This pleases me. 

I stand and begin. First, with my hand. I warm her skin with firm spanks. She flinches, but maintains her position, her eyes focused on the fig. She moans a bit, a cry sometimes escapes her lips, but she does not move position. I can stand back and view her pinked skin and decide she is ready. I take her hands and place then on the table next to her face. I kiss her neck. Then, I unhook my belt. She hears this and I see her tremble a bit. Good. I like her slight fear of the unknown. I snap my belt and, to her credit, she moves not. 

Now it begins. A good woman knows her place and it is beneath her husband's hand, beneath his body, a vessel for his pleasure. I whip the belt across her backside once. She dances a bit and cries out, but her hands do not move. A good man knows how to handle his woman, how to love her, teach her, allows her to be herself, appreciates her intelligence and creativity. He must also do his duty and meet her needs. For Alicia, this includes physical discipline. If I neglect this need, she feels abandoned, alone, unloved. I can't allow that. Ten times the kiss of my leather marks her skin. Her hands are still in place but her eyes are now closed and tears have puddled on the wood beneath her face. I kiss her cheek and tell her I love her. She says nothing for she is forbidden the use of her voice now.

Finally, I take the prepared fig. She sees this and again moves her hands to spread her burning cheeks. I slowly insert the ginger into her anus and she gasps. My cock strains against my trousers. "Hands," I say and she places her hands back on the wood. She squirms now, silent tears puddling beneath her face. I resume my seat and slowly finish my drink. Really, there is no need to rush.

Spanking of the Week

Okay, so I shouldn't have mouthed off. Especially in front of his parents. And yes, I  too far when I called him a blockhead for not agreeing with me. I know better. Larry doesn't mind at all when I disagree with his political point of view, but he does expect me to treat him with respect, which name calling certainly was not. As soon as the word came out of my mouth I knew I was in trouble, but did I stop? No. I didn't. Why would I? I was on a roll. I told him that only an idiot could agree with the mayor who wanted to charge landlords $100 per year per unit to maintain their license. This, obviously, would raise rent and the already money strapped tenants would be forced to seek cheaper housing in neighbouring towns. Larry just nodded and quietly said that we should agree to disagree and tried to change the subject. Did I let him? No. I drew in his father asking if he at least agreed with me since he owned 10 rental units. Mr. Brown deferred to answer saying that he'd rather hear about how I liked my new car. Finally, realising that I was defeated, I pouted. 

As soon as we got home, Larry grabbed my arm and escorted me into the bedroom. He scolded me for my attitude and name calling and told me to strip. Knowing he was right, I did it, but still sulked. He continued to scold, telling me how disappointed he was in my behaviour. He made me tell him at three different ways I could have expressed my opinion in a more respectful way. All the time he was making me think and talk, he used his belt on my bottom. I couldn't sink away from the pain, because I had to focus on my words. He kept up a steady rhythm and soon enough I was sobbing. I knew he was right. I should never have resorted to childishness. Now, I have to suffer the consequences. By the time I weeped out my third alternative, Larry had stopped the spanking. He rubbed my back and told me that he loved me. He was going to leave me to rest and when I felt up to it, I should join him in the living room for a glass of wine and a quiet evening. 

My husband has many good qualities, but some of the highest are his sense of fairness and his ability to forgive and forget.

Monday Maintenance

Most people hate Monday mornings - not me. Why? Because every Monday morning, I am reminded that I am loved, cherished and appreciated. I am reminded that I am the one who makes my Sir happy. I am reminded that I complete him. I am reminded that I have given him my trust and the right to use me for his pleasure. I will be filled for the day, by his will. My every movement will remind me of his pleasure. I will be tender each time I sit, reminded that I have given him control over me. I do so very much look forward to Monday mornings.

Spanking of the week

I was hoping. Can't blame a girl for hoping. What was I hoping for? For Mister to forget that today was Thursday. You see, each and every Thursday Mister spanks me - hard some days, light others. Nonetheless, Thursday is the day for my maintenance. I hate it, but if I'm honest, I love it as well. We were camping near a river and it's been great. It's quite isolated here and only us and a few other couples - also nudists-  are in the area but even they are a few miles away. We walked down to the river and were hunting for pretty stones. Then, we sat for a bit and Mister said the words: Get in position. 

I stared at him a moment, confused because I was the one who had forgotten what day it was. Suddenly it dawned on me and still I hesitated. Naturally, he saw this. I scrambled across his lap and he pulled up my light dress. Again and again his hand came down. Because of the rocks, I couldn't press down on my knees, and I was afraid of falling off his lap, so I tried not to wiggle too much. This didn't stop me for crying out, though. Still, he continued, holding me tightly and raining down on my ass. I was sobbing by the time he stopped and began to soothe my poor cheeks, rubbing them lightly.

'Now that you've been reminded, are you ready for the punishment or would you prefer to wait?'

"I don't understand"

'For your hesitation. You know you're supposed to position yourself immediately when commanded, yet, you didn't, did you?"

This was a basic tenet in our relationship. On Thursday, I stopped whatever I was doing and obeyed him. 

"As you choose, Sir."

"Now it is."

I couldn't help myself. I began to count in my head. If I focused on that, perhaps I could endure without too much crying. 

Silly me. After twenty-five swats, I stopped counting and dropped my head, tears darkening the rocks below my face. Still, I could smell my own arousal and feel Mister's hard cock pressing against my thighs. Finally, he stopped, turned me over and held me tight, kissing me, praising my acceptance. He stood, holding me in his arms, and carried me back to the river knee deep in cool water. Gently, he let me find my feet and I knelt, the water soothing my burning bottom. I took his cock in my mouth, worshiped it, adored it, pleasured it. I proved my acceptance of the reminder and punishment spankings in this manner. Always. When I felt him explode, feeding me his essence, I knew I had pleased him. I looked up at him, smiling, warming under his loving gaze. Yes, this part of Thursdays, I truly love.

BDSM vs. Abuse

The line between BDSM is not thin - it is a brick wall 2 feet thick. Let me elaborate and give examples

BDSM  is a power exchange - The submissive WILLINGLY gives power to the Dominant to do as he chooses within the confines of her limits. The Dominant WILLINGLY gives power to the Submissive to give final approval or disapproval for any act.

ABUSE:  The abuser takes what he or she chooses either despite or because of the victim's unwillingness or fear.

BDSM  - both parties crave, desire and find pleasure in each act. If not, they discuss the act and adjust accordingly.

ABUSE:  Only the abuser craves, desires and finds pleasure in the victim's pain and subjugation.

BDSM:  Both parties have respect for the other and a very, very close bond.

ABUSE: The only bond is fear.

BDSM:  The ultimate goal is joy.

ABUSE:  The ultimate goal is power.

Spanking of the Week

I hate baseball. And now, it's baseball season. My Man, however loves baseball and has required that I be with him for each game he watches. First, I prepare traditional snacks - chips, dip, sandwiches, and fill a cooler with beer which I set next to the couch. Sometimes friends show up, sometimes, like today, it is just the two of us. I could really use this time to read, clean, do anything else, but this is one of his requirements, and in truth, I'm happy to obey. Once the game starts, I am to remain naked. Today, the Cards are playing the Cubs. He's a die hard Cubs fan (I HAVE NO IDEA WHY!!) The Cards are up to bat first. Each time they get a man on base I get spanked. For every time time they score, I get ten swats on each cheek. If, by some chance, the Cubs get a man on base, he finger fucks me. If, I'm really lucky and the Cubs score, He lets me orgasm. Either way, by the end of the game, I'm a wet, dripping horny mess. My ass and thighs are red and swollen, by pussy throbbing and I am nothing but a melted whore begging to be fucked.

Maybe I DO like baseball afterall!

The wonder of Breasts

They are, without equal, the quintessential emblem of feminitity. They are to be worshiped, marked, played with, tortured. If a true dominant wants to bring his submissive to her knees, he will lavish attention on her breasts. It matters not the size, what matters is the appreciation of them, the reverence which is their due, the endless ways to manipulate, enhance, torture, beautify, respect them. 

The Pillory

She stood, bent, her head and wrists locked in the pillory. She knew her guilt. She had tempted the Man. Flirted outrageously. Now, she was His prisoner. He'd grabbed her arm, marched her to the centre of town and locked her in. The townspeople gathered around, knowing her nature and His. Knowing this was to be spectacle for all to enjoy.

First, He scolded her, announcing to the town her indecent actions and her wantonness. Then, he ripped her skirt off of her. She shrieked. Not yet content, he also ripped off her blouse. She stood in only her drawers and corset, helpless, grateful for her long hair covering her face.  He pulled out his knife, showing her the shimmer of the blade. Slowly, her ran the knife along her spine, cutting the cords of her corset, allowing it to fall from her body, exposing her breasts. He pulled apart her drawers, the cool air now caressing her naked bottom. He rubbed His cock against her wet slit, entering her quickly, hard,pounding against her. His hand came down on her ass, spanking her with a resounding smack. Over and over again until tears fell from her face.

The townspeople shouted their approval, encouraging Him. She deserved her humiliation and they would be satisfied with nothing less. One man came up to him and offered him a smooth, large carrot. Accepting the hard vegetable, He rubbed it against her anus. Slowly, making sure she felt every movement, he pushed it into her. Six inches of hard, orange wood entering her bottom. He held it in place and continued to fuck her. Within minutes, he pulled out, cumming on her red bottom.

She panted, wanting more, terrified and humiliated. Her bottom was on fire and her anus was stretched to the point that she feared her body would split in two. He stepped in front of her, then stood on a tall box, his dripping member in front of her eyes. He grasped her hair and when her mouth popped open, He placed his cock inside. The vegetable man now took his turn, keeping the carrot deep inside her and fucking her cunt. In due time, he too pulled out and spent his hot seed on her bottom. He was again becoming hard in her mouth. He tore off his belt and leaning slightly over her, smacked her bottom. She screamed around His cock, but he continued. He fucked her mouth until his hot cream slid down her throat.

The townspeople cheered.

He pulled away. Leaning down He whispered. "three more hours, my dear. And three more times will I cum in or on you. Three more men as well as me will use you. Each of your holes will be used, violated, enjoyed. That will teach you a proper lesson, will it not?"

"Yes, my dear Sir. It will."

The Maid's Contract

Yes, I realize what I do for a living might seem, but hey, times are hard these days and I LIKE what I do.  I clean other people's houses. I'm a maid to three men. Not a live in maid, but a day-to-day one. I visit each man's house once a week or more depending on his needs. I have stayed over before if he's having a party or something, but not usually. I've chosen my clients carefully. They are wealthy, trustworthy, honest and dominant. I had them sign a contract which I wrote even though parts of the contract would never hold up in a court of law. Nonetheless, everyone now knows the expectations. And yes, sometimes I miss things just to make sure my Employers are watching!

Contract

1.  The Maid will be paid at the end of her shift.

2.  The Maid will be responsible for the weekly cleaning of the following: dusting all wooden furniture, sweeping, mopping and vacuuming all floors, disinfecting all toilets, showers, tubs and sinks in the bathrooms, disinfecting the kitchen sink and appliances.

3.  Once a month the Maid will scrub all hard floors on her hands and knees using organic cleaning supplies, wash the windows and overhanging light fixtures.

4.  If the Employer wishes any additional choirs completed, he will inform the Maid before 8:00 a.m. on her scheduled Morning.

5.  The Maid will wear her uniform at all times while working, never casual street clothes. Further, the Maid will work in silence unless given permission to speak to the Employer.

6.  The Employer will inspect the Maid's work as soon as possible. If any of the work proves unsatisfactory, the Employer may require the Maid to re-do the work. The Employer may also require the Maid to accept a correction which could include any of the following. However, the correction must also be agreed to by the Maid. 10 Sharp spanks using the hand across the Maid's bottom; 5 stripes of the cane on the bottom or inner thighs, forced nudity while the work is re-done, nipple clamps for the time of the re-done work, 5 slaps of the Employer's belt on the bottom or palms of hands, 5 lashes on the Maid's exposed "petals", Corner time after the physical correction.

 

Sharing My Submissive - cross posted on http://bdsmstorytime.blogspot.com/

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Just Because

Just because he likes it, I offer myself to him.
Just because I like it, he accepts my offer.

Just because he likes it, I bend for him.
Just because I like it, He uses his belt.

Just because he likes it, I keep my legs spread wide.
Just because I like it, he enters me.

Just because he likes it, I open for him whenever he wants me
Just because I like it, he wants me often.

Just because we both like it, we are bonded to each other.

Training waist of a slave

I offered myself to him and he accepted. I am his Slave, his to use as he pleases. I am not simply his lover, although we do love each other. I am more than that. I am his property and this is just as I want my life to me.

He has begun to train me in the ways that please him. He adores corsets and heels, so this is where we begin. He tied me into my first corset. I will wear this until he chooses to release me which will not be for quite some time. He has told me that I will be released only to shower, but aside from that, I will wear a corset constantly until my waist has achieved his desired size and shape. He does not want me deformed as with some of the women from the olden days, simply curvy. Besides, this will help my posture and my habit of snacking too often. He wants my waist to be no bigger than 28 inches. At the moment, it is 32, so I don't have far to go. I will become so used to wearing one that I will feel lost without it. He has tied it tightly and every 20 minutes for the last 2 hours he has pulled it even tighter. I cannot bend at the waist. I totter on my heels whenever I walk, which pleases him.

He instructs me, patiently, on how he wishes to leave the house each morning. Upon awaking, I will service him with my mouth. Once I have drunk of his essence I will make breakfast while he showers and dresses. If, however, I spill even a drop of his essence, He will punish me by denying my own release for the entire day. I will then kneel beside his brief case and wait. After he finishes eating, He will then leave for his day at work. I will then go to my room and read his requirements for the day then attend to my chores. This is quite difficult because I cannot bend. Nonetheless, I must clean the house, make sure there is food, and complete all of the other tasks he may assign to me before he returns home. When he walks through the door, I must again be kneeling on my rug. When he comes to stand in front of me, I will unzip his trousers and welcome him home properly. Again, I will swallow every drop. If I fail, I will not be allowed to shower, I will only be allowed a sponge bath, but whatever has spilled onto me will remain.

 He will then inspect the house. If there is any fault, I will be punished. He will release me from my corset. I am to shower, dry off, apply lotion then go to him. He will replace my corset. Then, he will use me as he sees fit for the rest of the evening.

In need of Music

Naked in the Woods - 2

We have been here for three days now. She has slipped into quite the submissive state. She also smiles laughs more than she has in months. I should have brought her here sooner. From now on, at least every six week I am bringing her here. Yesterday, she tested me. During a simple breakfast of tea and porridge, she began a conversation. She started talking about getting a new car. I just stared are her a moment, shocked that she would so blatantly break the rule of silence. She knew she was allowed to speak only with permission, and never about anything from the outside world. When she saw my expression, she smiled and apologized. It was the smile that told me she was testing my resolve. I pointed to the corner. She blushed a bit but immediately bowed her head and went to go stand in the corner, hands behind her back.

I opened the wardrobe where I kept all of my supplies. I don't really like a ball gag, so instead I grabbed a simple scarf. I tied it around her mouth.

"There. That will remind you to stay silent."

Next, I went out to the garden. I had planted a large crop of ginger and now dug some up. I pulled out my knife and carved it into shape. Going back inside, I pushed her shoulder against the wall and kicked her legs out a bit, forcing her to stick out her bottom. Then, I inserted the fig into her anus. The burn started immediately, because she began to whimper.

"That's right. It burns doesn't it. You need to let go of the world. For now, your entire world is right here. This cabin, me, this land. I was thinking about having you choose what implement you wanted me to use for your morning spanking, but not now. I'm choosing. You need to accept the simple fact that you belong to me and that you have rules which I expect to be followed. You agreed to the rules. Do you still agree? Nod yes or no."

She nodded her agreement. Had she shook her head, I would have ungagged her, removed the fig and renegotiated the rules. But she had just given me permission, as I knew she would, to discipline her as I saw fit. He knew she was expecting a spanking, but he had a different idea. While she squirmed in her corner, he retrieved items from the wardrobe. Then, he sat and watched her. Her ass wiggled she bounced up and down on her toes. After about twenty minutes, he knew the effectiveness of the ginger was wearing off, so he stood, kissed her neck and removed the fig.

"Now turn around, but keep your hands behind your back."

She did so and he kissed her tear stained face. He lowered his head and sucked her nipples until they were hard little pebbles. Then, he showed her the chop sticks.

He ruthlessly attached them to her nipples. She bit down on the scarf, moaning. A fresh batch of tears fell down her face. Standing back he surveyed his handiwork.

"That should do it. Now, clean up the breakfast dishes. Once that chore's finished, I'll administer your morning spanking. After that, I'll remove the chop sticks and scarf. Hopefully, that will suffice in teaching you that I intend to enforce our rules."

Spanking of the Week

I've looked forward to this day all week. I always do. Most people hate Mondays, but not me. Monday is Spanking day. A day that I spend naked, nothing more than an object of beauty and sexuality. I am no longer a professional, nor do I have the worries of today's worlds. I am free of all work, all stress, all concerns. I am beauty and I simply have one decision to make - yes or no. I choose yes.

The day begins with a shower, shaving my legs, arms, cat. I lotion up with delightfully scented cream. Then, I go to the parlour. This room is only used on Mondays. It is my sanctuary. Heavy red velvet curtains cover the windows, a plush red carpet for my bare feet. A large winged leather chair for Him, a love seat, a liquor cabinet, a small table with two straight backed chairs, a chaise lounge. Inside the closet lie the toys he may choose to use. Once I enter, I am his. I eat what and when he tells me, I drink at his discretion, I use the restroom only when given permission. I make no decisions.

He is waiting for me, seated on one of the straight back chairs. He folds the paper he was reading and smiles at me. I smile in return. He turns his chair slightly and I position myself over his lap. He begins slowly, softly and I sigh. Really, this is more of a massage than a spanking. I do not think of what is to come, I focus on the pleasure of the moment. He increases his force, but not his speed. I feel a sting now and relax into his hand. My pussy is beginning to swell and my nipples are tightening. My hands are braced on the carpet. I will not remove them. If I do, that is his signal to stop. I curl my fingers into the plushness as he continues. His hand hard, unforgiving. My honey is flowing now and I am biting my lip, but I  have yet to cry real tears. He knows this and will not stop until I do or if I lift my hands.

His hands cover my bottom, the tops of my thighs, the famous sit spot. I know not where the next blow will land but I am grateful for each one. My skin is on fire and my mind is floating. Pain and pleasure merge into peace. Tears cover my face and suddenly I am in his arms. He kisses my tears and holds me. He tells me that I am beautiful, I am perfect, I am his. I am at peace.

Naked in the Woods

Warmth and sunlight filter through the trees, heating her bare skin. She is beautiful, bound to the tree, naked, raw, primitive. I brought her here for this purpose. To be closer to nature - her nature. Vulnerable and open. She is mine and much as I am hers. She will do anything for me. Even this. I know her arms are tired, but she will say nothing. She will not beg or wiggle or move until I get just the right shot of her. She will give herself up to creating the beauty that I desire. I saw in her eyes when she let go of her control, her tension and put herself totally in my possession. It took a while to break through her city made barriers, but neither of us was willing to give up. After this weekend, she will be happier - we both know this. She will be more centered, softer. She will remember she belongs to me and that I love and protect her always.

When we first got to the cabin, before we even left the car, I made her undress. She did so, knowing that clothing is forbidden to her here. I own the property for miles around. The woods, the lake, all of it. No one comes here without my knowledge and permission. She knows she's safe. She can let go here. The first thing she did was start a fire in the fire place while I unloaded supplies from the car. The hearth is old style. There is no running water here, no electricity, no indoor plumbing. Truly, this cabin is snug, but reflect a time gone by. I keep 5 gallon jugs of water in a small pantry. She has a good fire going now and I add water to the cauldron so that it can heat for bathing. Once it is warm, she washes herself, shaves, and then washes me as well.

Then, I sit before the fire and pull her over my lap. I rub her round globes then softly, gently begin to spank her. Still, she does not speak. Nor will she unless to answer me or ask a direct question of me. We are silent so that our bodies and speak rather than our minds. I check her slit and feel the wetness gathering. She's ready for more so I slowly spank harder. Within a few minutes she is panting and I can see her thighs glistening. I continue, noting the tension of her shoulders still. Minutes pass and I am relentless. Her bottom is bright, bright red now. Hot to the touch and finally, finally her shoulders slouch and relax. I stop, soothe her bottom. She stands as do I. I kiss her tear stained face. Then, she bends, grasping the seat of the chair. I take her, encasing myself in her warmth and wetness. She tightens around me and I fuck harder. She explodes around me and I fill her with my seed. We cuddle a bit, nap, repeat the process. 

She fixes dinner over the open fire - a simple stew. The next morning, I do no spank her. I take her into the woods and tie her to a tree, back to me. I flog her back, her bottom, her thighs, her cunt. She cums quickly and I laugh. Then, I fuck her. She is tender and sore, I know, but so very soft and pliable. I pull out and cum on her ass. Then, I release her, only to turn her around and re-tie her. I want to capture this moment. I leave her alone for a few minutes while I head back to the cabin to get my camera. She opens her mouth to object, but catches herself and closes her lips.

She is beautiful, bound to the tree, naked, raw, primitive. I brought her here for this purpose. To be closer to nature - her nature. Vulnerable and open. She is mine and much as I am hers. She will do anything for me.

Accepting the Spanking.

I know the rules and I broke several of them. Willingly and knowingly. Which rules I broke do not matter. Now, it's time to face the piper. I know my job. I signed up for it. I signed a contract that would never hold up in court, yet it is still binding, at least in my mind and His. I am His. I am His personal librarian and code d'Odalisque. Yes, that's an old world term, which translates, more or less, into "pleasure slave." As His librarian, I have rules which must be followed and when they are not, I am punished which often involves pain, humiliate and then forgiveness. As His code d'Odalisque, my only "job" is to give Him pleasure, whatever His pleasure may be. This rarely involves actually pain or humiliation. If these are involved they always lead to pleasure. Tonight, though, I am to be punished. I understand and accept this. He would never punish me unless I did.

I am to be tied to His desk in the library. He will whip me first with his hand, then his belt. He will set the timer for ten minutes and whip me until the timer goes off. Then,  He will fuck me leaving me tied to the desk, his cum dripping out of me. He has told me all of this. This will be the pain. Then, will be the humiliation. He will invite a few of his friends over for drinks. They will talk, drink, and I will remain in place, spread open red assed, tears streaking my face, his cum drying on my thighs and pussy lips. He will offer them the use of any of my holes. They will be allowed to spank me as well. I am not to speak.  He will answer all questions, make all decisions. He has discussed this with me and I have agreed. I have a choice and I choose Him.

Rope Panties

We're going to a party tonight. All the guests will be of like mind - tops and bottoms, masters and slaves, doms an subs. The party is to begin in a public location with public play. Because alcohol is sold, the law prohibits total nudity, so my genitals and nipples must be covered. Still, Matthew has ordered that I wear no underwear for one full week. I'm not sure what to do, so I place black electrical tape over my nipples and pull on my dress, a short, sweet little red number and slip into matching heels. I'm concerned, but I also trust Matthew to make the final decision. I'm just finishing putting on my lipstick when the doorbell rings.

"Good," he says then kisses me. "You're almost ready. Lift your dress."
I do so.

"Now that's my good girl, following my orders," he tells me and I blush a bit, pleased by his words.

"Keep holding the dress up."

I see him take out a length of soft silken rope. He kneels in front of me and gets to work. I close my eyes and sigh. I love when he binds me. It's like a hug, but better almost because when he ties me into a corset, loops rope around my wrists, binds me in any way, I am constantly reminded of his hands, his arms, his body. I feel him even when he is not touching me. I feel a warmth deep inside of me and know the tremor of my body. He slides the rope between my petals and positions a knot on my clit. I bite my lip and moan. He finishes, stands and grabs my hair, pulling my head back.

"Now you may cum," he says as his lips take mine.

I do. His mouth swallows my screams and my juices coat the rope. He holds me so I don't fall an
d I sway against him. I can feel the rumble in his chest and I know he's laughing at me. He loves how easily I cum.

When my tremors stop, he releases me slowly, making sure I'm steady.

"Now, I believe we have covered all that needs to be. Straighten your dress we'll go. You're in for a wonderful night, my dear."

To Train a Slave

He is mine. He has dedicated himself to me. I wasn't sure at first if I could accept this, but now, I'm glad I did. He is so much happier now and that, in the end, is truly what matters to me. Plus, I have to admit, my live is easier, better, less stressful since he has entered it. The poor man was directionless before. Now, he is focused, not just in his service to me, but in his life. He tells me he feels grounded, secure. The first thing I did to help him with this was to establish a set of rules. We discussed them, made adjustments, and once we agreed, we posted them in my bedroom. He also committed them to memory - his little gift to me.

1.  The Lady's wardrobe will be kept neat, the clothes ironed and shoes cleaned at all times.
2.  The slave will prepare the Lady's bath and serve her a chilled glass of white wine.
3.  The slave will attempt to follow specific orders from the Lady at all times.
4.  If the slave cannot or will not follow an order, he will respectfully explain why.
5.  The slave will worship the Lady's feet each evening after she arrives home from work.
6.  The slave will never touch himself or have an orgasm without the Lady's permission.
7.  In public, the slave will behave in a gentlemanly but not subservient manner at all times.
8.  The slave will willingly accept any forms of discipline or punishment from the following list:  enforced chastity, enforced nudity, sleeping on the floor, acting as furniture, performance of menial household tasks, enforced silence.
9.  Other forms of discipline or punishment will be discussed and agreed to mutually.
10.  The slave will always see to his Lady's sexual pleasure before his own.

Following this list of rules, I also set up a variety of new skills I wanted him to learn.

1.  massage
2.  manicure and pedicure
3.  waxing
4.  sewing (for mending purposes only)

So far, my dear boy has learned basic massage techniques and has become quite adept at giving a manicure and pedicure. I am very pleased with his progress, but more so, he feels more self satisfaction and confidence.

Now, during the Mardi Gras season, I have arranged for a little pleasure for him. Each day he is to masturbate and attain orgasm at least once and up to five times. This is, after all, the season for pleasure.

However, once lent, the season of repentance begins, he will be in chastity until Easter. He knows this is coming and has accepted the challenge. Yes, it seems harsh, but think how wonderful his Easter celebration will be!

More than a Spanking

Submission is more than accepting a spanking. It is finding the strength to place the desires and needs of another before your own. It is accepting that person's dominance over you not because he is stronger than you but because it makes you happy to do so. It is not ignoring your own needs, but admitting them. It is about demanding respect for your gift of service. It is about accepting physical pain because the result is that your Dominant is happy. It is about having enough strength of character to put yourself aside and opening, willingly give your personal power to another. It is about allowing your limits to be explored and pushed and trusting your Dominant to lead you to new pleasures, new experiences, new adventures. It is a journey of self discovery and love.

Brattiness receives no mercy

I HATE de-Christmasing the house! With a passion I hate it. I whine, complain and procrastinate. This year, Mark decided he'd had enough of my brattiness. Little did I know, but while we were working, he kept track of how many times I bitched. Now, it's time to pay up. Apparently, my mouth got feisty fifteen times. Yeah, that's a lot. No wonder he got tired of hearing my complain.

So fifteen is the magic number. Fifteen twigs he tied together while I watched, kneeling, naked and trembling. Fifteen times he switched my bare bottom, each blow stinging more that the previous. By number eight I was sobbing, begging for forgiveness, promising never to whine again. He said nothing, simply continued mercilessly. Then, he fucked me, not in my hot, wet pussy, but in my ass. He plunged in deeply, filling me completely. He came deep within my bowels. I cried out again, this time not with pain, but pleasure, squeezing the last drops from him. I love when he uses me, reminds me that I am his, blesses me with his essence. 

Have I learned my lesson - of course. Will I repeat my behaviour? Well now - that is always a possibility.