No Quarter given nor asked for

I have teased him for months. On-line, texting, pictures. He has been out of the country, TDY, but now, he is home and it is time to face the music. For the last week, he has made love to me gently, beautifully, acquainting himself with my body again. Today, though, is my day of retribution. Veteran's Day. Today I will serve my Veteran in any and all way. I am his prisoner and no quarter will be asked or given. It is chilly outside, but that will makes no difference. To begin, he takes me to the woodshed. Yes, it stores wood for the fireplace, but also is used for a more traditional purpose. He keeps an old chair in the building for just this purpose. To begin, though, He had me walk the wood and cut a handful of switches. I tied them together then presented the bundle to him for his inspection. He was clear that I was to leave the little twigs attached. I kneeled in the chair and he began. Over and over he thrashed my bottom until the twigs began to break. I cried out, the pain searing my bottom, but he did not slow, simply placed a hand on my back to steady me. Only when each of the switches had broken did he stop.

By this time I was sobbing. He gathered me into his arms and comforted me, a kindness which made me sob even more. Then, he carried me inside, lay me gently on the bed. He rubbed ointment on my red bottom and lubed my hole. Then, he took it. He plunged in, balls deep, into my bottom hole. I screamed in surprise and a bit of pain, but he fucked me. Hard. Pulling my hair. I wanted to cum, but he whispered that if I did, he would call his troops over have them watch my next punishment then give me to them for their use. I bit my lip and focused on not cumming. Luckily, he used me hard and fast and came quickly, filling my bowels with his blessed seed.  Panting, he lay beside me and pushed my head down so that I could clean his cock and taste his cum.

When he recovered, he had more plans for me.  He had me stand and walked me out into our woods. There, he cuffed my hands behind a tree and tied me in place. The rough bark irritating my tender bottom and cool breeze raising goose flesh. Once in place, he scolded me fiercely for my wanton ways. He then pulled out a small container from his pocket and my eyes widened. Wasabi. He grinned wickedly and placed a small dab on my nipples and my clit. The fire shot into my nerves immediately and i bit my lip to keep from screaming. Tears fell down my cheeks and he continued to scold me. He took out his cock, hard and lovely and perfect. He rubbed himself, masturbating in front of me. i cried more. I hated not being able to touch him, but this, I knew, was justified. He came quickly, spraying my body with his seed. Then, he sat. He just sat in the grass and watched as i struggled with the humiliation of my exposure and the sting of the wasabi his cum drying on my skin. He glanced at his pocket watch and smiled again.

I knew, today would be a long, beautiful day. No quarter given. Nor asked for.

A Good Master

He will always be mindful of the greatness of the gift she has given Him, her love and trust. He will ensure her safety and health at all times, especially when He knows she is uncomfortable or nervous.

He will gratefully take what she offers and in return give her the love, strength, protection and discipline she craves. 

He not hesitate in this act of discipline since to do so would be disappoint her. He has taken the responsibility to set expectations and to enforce them. To do less would be to disrespect her desires. She is, after all, a grown woman who knows her mind. She desires your firmness and expects your enforcement. She needs your firm hand to lead and reassure her. If she didn't accept and expect your right to do this, she would never have agreed to be your slave.

You, Sir, have a duty to mark her as your own. To do less is to disrespect the trust she has placed in you. Your responsibility to her is endless, as is her love for you.

A Good Slave

A good slave will not forget who she is, but rather, will add grow as an individual under her Master's tutelage.

She will not be afraid to voice her concerns no will she hesitate to use her safe word when needed. At the same time, she will always speak with respect and will never use her safe word indiscriminately, but will trust her Master to keep her safe. Still, if she truly fears for her or His safety, she will not be afraid to speak.

She will graciously follow her Master's lead, even when he takes her outside of her own comfort zone. She will trust that her best interests are always in his heart and mind. She will follow him.

She will serve Him as He desires and go out of her way to see to His needs. His pleasure is her pleasure and His comfort is hers. She takes her greatest pride in her abilities to ensure His comfort, anticipating his desires and placing his needs before her own.

She will be available to Him at all times, dressing or not dressing for his preference without embarrassment or humiliation. If He desires to see, use, cuddle, punish or display her body she will feel honored by this desire.

Primarily, a slave will seek to please her Master and in doing so will also please herself.

Sensuous Metal

Yes, it is cold, but tends to quickly absorb heat from any nearby source. In this case, her skin. I have planned for this day, this evening. My flower awaits Me, kneeling. She has no idea of the plan for this day, but will do as I say, trusting that I will never harm her nor will I break her hard limits, few though they be. First, I attach the metal clips to her nipples. I have her hold the chain in her mouth partially to keep the tension on the little buds and partially for the sheer beauty of seeing the silver metal pressed against her red lips. She knows to keep her eyes closed. I prefer this to a blindfold since she must use her own discipline to obey. I keep an eye on her while I attach one end of the long delicate chain to the ceiling hook. I have designed my entire third floor as a our private sanctuary. I delight in the expressions which flit across her face as she hears my movements but is unsure of what she hears.

I remove the chain from her mouth and kiss her. She leans into me and begins to put her arms around my neck but stops herself. I have trained her well. I stand and opens her mouth. I tell her to open her eyes and she does, gazing directly into mine. I guide my cock into her mouth and she sighs. Her eyes darken with passion. With each movement, the chain between her nipples swings. I know she feels the terrible pinch but will not complain. She sucks me deeper into her throat, her eye lids flutter as she struggles to keep her gaze locked on my face. I pull away from her, not wanting to cum yet. I help her to stand and then lead her by her chain.

Once I have her in position, I wrap the long chain about her waist. She shivers with cold, the attach the other end to the ceiling hook. Quickly, I release her breasts. She gasps as the blood rushes back into her nipples and hugs herself. I stand back a moment and smile as she comforts herself. Then, I kneel before her. She tastes divine. I will dine on her sweet honey for a long, long time. She is, after all, my captive.

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.

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.