Monday, December 19, 2016

Poetry from darker times

As a preface to this: I wrote these poems late one night after getting into a horrible fight with a loved one. It was a very dark time in my life. I am not there anymore. I hope that in allowing people to see the darkness that I have escaped that they might have hope.

my life is fucked beyond all reason
like a man in his twenties who is losing his hair
the sex appeal dies early
all that is left is a sea of pale smooth skin
glistening by the light of the moon

such a sinful word
as though you had a choice
get on with it girl
they are waiting for you

i met a man once 
whose eyes were full of promises,
kisses, dreams,
all the things for which a girl creams

but he was no different
the dreams were lies and 
the kisses screams

tear my heart out baby
without you it is dead
but it was dead anyway

tears kiss me sweetly
my eyes my face
streaming with joy or pain
screaming the same

the world is a dull dull grey
full of digust no play
kiss me darling
kiss me sweetly
for tomorrow brings nothing but the same

die softly

slowly dissolve into the soil
flesh to dirt
blood to water
just the same
no different than any other

that same hackneyed phrase
don't test me darling
i know your name

you cry you preen
your skeleton shines in the 
moonlight gleam

you are empty i say
but your face only smiles
eyes empty like pits

get away from me with your dreary kiss
take your grin 
take it away I say

there is no room in my life 
for such a cliché as
once upon a time

fortune favors the prepared
what about the rest of us poor fucks
what about the meuling creeping public
what about the worthless self-saboteurs 

we get to die in our own shit
with no dignity and no choice

your laughter is cheap and hollow now
your voice it merely stings
my heart is in a ruin love
beside all of our things

what use to plan a life
when fate you can't predict

to hell with human nature
that is what truly reeks
you cannot know yourself until 
you have truly seen your darkness
your filth
your smut

disgusting sour putrefying shit at the bottom of your soul
that filthy tar baby that sucks you in
smothering you and all the light that is left

as the filth closes over your head
you gasp your last breath
the tar flows around you now
in you
the ghastly taste is in your mouth
creeping down your throat
you can feel your life receding from its onslaught

there are different types of darkness
the mother's womb quiet and safe
the blackness of lace at a funeral
dusty and cloying
and the blackness of death
destroying decaying
taking all that was precious and turning it to dust

no matter how you hide in the light
darkness will find you
what is light without its antithesis 
but for the sunlight streaming in your window
you couldn't see the dust
the fragments of your life
no fallen apart and dying at your feet

you may try to hide your face
but the sickening smell creeps into your nostrils
it tears your heart and rends your mind
separating you from all your kind

your pain a stain upon a fresh cotton cloth
no washing will remove
just as your blood burns your heart
leaving an eternal scar
an altar to those you lost

Sunday, December 18, 2016

Hold me so tightly that it hurts

It feels like someone staring at the back of your head, that feeling you get when you just know that you are being watched. Just a little bit of tension in the shoulders. The hairs stand up on the back of your neck. You feel the need to whip around suddenly, but the idea scares you. 

That is how I feel. 

It's just a little too familiar. It's too similar to the past. It's setting me on edge. Depression is wrapping its shroud around me, lulling me into pitiful despair. 

He said it today... or maybe it was yesterday, "You need to talk to your doctor. It seems like you are getting worse." My heart sank. I have been trying to not see it for weeks now. He is so patient, so understanding, so much kinder than I feel like I deserve. He doesn't get upset when my moods keep me from helping around the house, or when I have surprise anxiety attacks, or sudden anger... when my words turn to shards dripping poison. I get a gentle reminder, a firm hand on my arm, a whisper in my ear. "I should spank you for this." 

I feel like my discipline is fading. I feel like I am losing my purpose: to serve my Master with everything that I am. 

It's a difficult line for him to walk, trying to protect my mental health and still provide the discipline and structure that I crave. I don't know if there is a right way. I don't know how to deal with my fragile emotional state. All that I know is that I want his hands on me. I want him to take me. I want to be his plaything. I want to be helpless in his arms. I want to be used for his pleasure, to satisfy those carnal cravings for fear and pain. 

I want to serve! I was born and raised to serve! I'm so frightened that I will lose this... lose focus on something that brings me so much joy. I am beginning to feel like I'm not contributing anything... I don't know if this is just depressive chatter in my head or if it is the truth. I have never really felt that I had much to contribute... but I felt safe and secure in my slavery. I feel as though that is slipping away. 

Oh, Daddy. I am frightened. Your little slave girl is frightened, and disappointed in her weakness, and so desperate for you. 

Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Bipolar... Just like Earth!

I imagine my consciousness as a ship in the middle of a huge ocean. For most people, the seas are generally calm. Not for me. All around, the sea batters the ship. Winds buffet the sails. I feel as though I am tossed thither and yon by the waves of emotion. 

Thankfully, I have Master. He is my anchor. He is the person who weathers my moods. He holds me when I am laughing and crying hysterically. It's been over 6 months now. My mind is just now beginning to grasp the fact that he isn't going anywhere. Not only that, but he isn't letting ME go anywhere. To me, that's a really big deal.

Bipolar disorder frequently causes impulsive behavior. In my personal experience, this can mean that I suddenly stop valuing very important things in my life: my health, relationships, physical safety... A promise to keep me means that if I fail, he will be there to keep me from doing something stupid, reckless, or ill-advised. 

It is hard for me to express my gratitude to him without becoming very emotional (Ha!). 

Thank you, Daddy. You have saved my life. You have saved me from myself. 


The pain went through me like a hot coal: searing, burning. 

I bent over playfully and presented my ass for Master, just the way he likes. I moaned with pleasure as he ground his cock against me. 

Hands on my knees, I moaned as he toyed with me. 

His hand struck my pussy. Hard. I yelped. 




"Cum bitch." 

I began to shake as I let the orgasm roll over me. 



My knees started to give. 



"Stay up bitch!"

I shrieked. I screamed. He had no mercy. 

He commanded me to keep cumming as I struggled to stay standing. I clutched a box before me on the floor for balance. 


And again.

And again. 

He stopped. 

I fell to my knees before him. He held me tightly. My face pressed against his crotch. I could feel his erect cock through his jeans. 

"Good girl."

Those are my favorite words. 

"Good girl." 

Weak with endorphins, I sat down hard and I worshiped. 

She laughed until she cried

She laughed until she cried... It was a miracle.

I hadn't been home for six months. (For those of you who have forgotten about my disastrous visit, you can check it out here.) Master told me, at the time, that I wasn't going home again without him. But still, even knowing that he would be there, I was terrified. I told my mother that I was bringing him to Thanksgiving at the beginning of October. 

We had been on the phone for about 30 minutes, gabbing, shooting the shit... Things had been relatively back to normal for a while. In my head, I was trying to get up the courage to tell her. I didn't ask.

"I'm going to bring _____ (insert Master's name here) to Thanksgiving. 

There was a pause on the line... 


"You know we've been dating for six months..."

"Oh... Well, I will be happy to buy your ticket. You will have to get _____'s."

I let it go. It went over better than I expected, really. We moved along with the conversation. I was able to relax and let out a sigh of relief. 

The next morning, I got a text message. "Dad would like to buy both of your plane tickets for y'all to come for Thanksgiving." All right Dad! Way to be progressive and understanding! Wooooo! (Small victories, ok?) It took me a couple of weeks to find a good deal, and I bought the tickets. 

I started having nightmares. (Yes, folks... I have PTSD) Several nights a week, I would dream about fighting with my parents. These weren't little arguments. These were rage-fueled, violent arguments. I usually woke myself crying. The dreams lasted for two or three weeks. 

One day, I called my mother to catch up. Historically, we have been really close, like best friends. She was prattling on about preparing for Thanksgiving. It is a really big deal in my family: china, crystal, the whole nine yards. 

"I've thought about it and ____ can stay in your room. You can stay on the fold-out bed in my office." (Remember: no vile, evil, extra sinful premarital sex going on here!)

"I've actually found us an AirBnB."


"Oh, ok." She sounded awkward, as though the thought of us sharing a bed made her uncomfortable. I'm sure it did. 

I had a short respite, and my sleep eventually returned to normal (medically induced coma). However, the anxiety came back, during the day. 

I struggle with anxiety and depression as a part of my bipolar disorder. Normally, I can control the anxiety: get plenty of sleep, exercise, take a walk, something. This was crippling. Add in that I was about to start a new job, and what have you got? Dysfunction...can't get off the couch, must hide under a blanket anxiety. I tried everything: prescriptions, marijuana, alcohol, herbs... Nothing really took care of it. I tried mixing combinations of things to little avail. It kept getting worse until the night before we flew. 

That night, I didn't bother sleeping. We needed to be at the airport at 0400 anyway. I got caught up in preparations, packing, etc. I was emotional, yes. I was on-edge, yes. But I was functional. I think I was just kind of in shock.

We arrived at my parents house around 1930. I felt as though everything happened in slow motion. My mom came out of the backdoor. I scrambled to get out of the car. All the while, information was streaming in. She looks happy. She isn't hiding anything. She is glad to see me... us! I could barely wrap my mind around it. I ran to her and picked her up in a bear hug. When I put her down again, Master was out of the car. She ran over to him and happily introduced herself. I felt like I was in a dream. In fact, writing this is bringing tears to my eyes. We went inside. My dad was in the livingroom. He is glad to see us! He stands and warmly introduces himself to Master and shakes his hand. 


We talked until well after my parents' bedtime. We had fun chattering and laughing like Master had always been a part of the family. My mother laughed until tears streamed down her face. 

When Master and I got to where we were staying, the dam holding back my emotions buckled. I broke down in tears of relief and anxiety and put myself right to bed. 

The next day, we rose early and went to my parents' house to steal some breakfast. My mother roped me into helping her prepare the house. We laid out the tablecloths and the napkins and the napkin rings and the good silver and the crystal glasses. While we were working, my father, in a completely atypical fashion, offered to take Master on errands with him to hang out and get out of our way.

It made me nervous, but my mother told me not to worry. So, I did my best not to. We finished setting the table, and we sat down for a minute. I felt exhausted, which led into feeling anxious. Within just a few minutes, I called Master and asked when he was going to be home. 

So, the days went on: happiness and merrymaking punctuated by anxiety that led me to hide in my room with Master at my side. My mother laughed until tears streamed down her face. Not only did my parents love him... my ENTIRE family loved him! My friends loved him! As I began to adjust, my anxiety lessened a little. 

We said goodbye to my parents the night before we flew. I cried. It was the first time in years that I didn't want to leave home. 
It was the best Thanksgiving that I have ever had. I'm still in shock. I can hardly believe it. I'm so grateful. It really was a miracle. 

I can still see her face. Her eyes were bright with smiles and laughter and wet with tears as she looked at us. 

Friday, October 28, 2016

Cum from last night

... is still in my hair where he wiped it as they left me on the bed exhausted and used. 

A week or more ago Master mentioned to me that he had gotten an interesting message. (Most people, after looking over my profile, contact me... I am the sex object, but I am not the one in charge. The best way to play with me (and really the only way) is to go through Master.) The message was from a guy named Hadrix. Rather than contacting me, he wrote directly to my Master and inquired about the acquisition, care and keeping of a slave like myself. After some correspondence between the two of them, they decided to meet. I came along as an accessory.

Master asked me to wear a see-through top, but was kind enough to allow me to wear pants and boots. It was a chilly evening. I rifled through my closet. It probably took me 90 minutes to get dressed. (It's a challenge to find something that is both see-through and warm. That, and I'm terribly vain.)

Right around the time that I started getting dressed, I started getting nervous. 

We met in a dimly lit restaurant, unfortunately, not dark enough for any shenanigans. Hadrix was interesting. We enjoyed conversation over our meal, some about kink, some about life in general. I had a few drinks with dinner. When we had all finished our food, Master decided (but he respected my input) that Hadrix was alright. We invited him back to our place. 

We talked about getting more alcohol on the way back, but I felt so comfortable with Hadrix that I told Master that it wasn't necessary (which is truly a credit to him, my social anxiety is formidable).

When we got home, I stretched out luxuriously on the sofa. Hadrix and I were discussing materials for sex toys. He brought up stainless steel. I excitedly scampered across the room and presented for him my favorite toys: my Njoy pure plug and my Njoy pure wand. His eyes lit up in appreciation as I made myself comfortable on the sofa again, but Master had other plans. He stood over me.

"Take off your pants."

It wasn't a suggestion. It was a command. I know better than to dawdle when Master uses that tone. My pants hurriedly thrown aside, my legs obediently spread wide, Master thrust his fingers inside me. 

"Cum, bitch." 

My eyes rolled back in my head, and I gave my body over to the waves of pleasure. Master likes to put me through my paces for guests, show off the capabilities of his slave. Master motioned for Hadrix to take over. With hardly a lapse, there was a new set of fingers inside me. Master walked into the other room to bring out our toys. (This is the point where the whole evening became fuzzy for me, i.e. I began my descent into subspace.)

Though my ongoing orgasm, I could make out fragments of conversation. Then, I heard chains. The sharp rattling of heavy chain shot through my reverie like a bullet. I know that sound. Master and I both have a set of clamps. Mine are decidedly gentler. These were not my clamps. I could tell by the sound. 

Master handed the clamps to Hadrix, who weighed them in his hands with appreciation. With one hand he reached down and tweaked my right nipple, hard, rolling it between his fingers. He pulled it slightly. Pinch, followed by searing pain, pain that makes your vision strange and your mind foggy. As the pain from my right nipple began to lessen into a dull roar... Pinch.

I cried out in pain as my vision whited out. 

Smack. A hand fell hard on my clit. I don't know who it was. I just remember the sting and the smart, the second blow before the pain of the first subsided, the third, the fourth... I lost count. 

(If this were a movie... we would fade to a white screen here.)


I heard the sound of voices. 

Someone lifted the heavy chain from between my breasts. There was a subtle tug as a third chain was attached in the middle. Unceremoniously, my pussy was spread wide and the last clamp was applied to my clit, behind my piercing. 

"Get on your knees." 

In my haze, I sat up. Instinctively, I lifted the weight of the chain off my chest to alleviate the instant increase in pain. 

"Drop it."

I let the chain fall. I felt a tug as the chain fell, followed by a slow, but steady increase in pain from my nipples and my clit. 

"Crawl around the table."

Down on all fours, the chain swung with my body as I crawled. The clamp slipped from my clitoris. Without a word, I sat back on my heels and waited. Hadrix tried a couple of times to replace the clamp to no avail. He clipped it firmly to my pussy lip. The pain was surprisingly dull and subtle. I resumed my crawl. 

I rounded the table once. Twice. Three times. My consciousness continued to fade. The subtle pain from my vulva had increased to an ache that I couldn't ignore. There was nothing but the pain with every motion. Move right hand. Move right leg. Move left hand. Move left leg. 

"Back on the couch."

The pain subsided slightly as I laid back. But, I knew what came next. I gritted my teeth and turned my face into the back of the sofa as the clamps came off. I yelped. (Clamps hurt way worse coming off. At least the pain doesn't last.) 

Master brought out my dildo. (I will pause for a moment to mention that I like pretty sex toys... and I generally have expensive taste. My dildo, however, was a bargain and I have been very happy with it. If you are interested you can check it out here.) He pushed the suction cup firmly onto the top of one corner of the coffee table. 

"Fuck yourself. Now."

Obedient, albeit wobbly, I walked to the table, spread my legs and sat down on the dildo. The pleasure was a welcome change in the pain-induced haze, but the relief didn't last. The quicker I fucked, the more my legs began to burn. I tried supporting myself on the table to no avail. 

"Who told you to stop?"

I struggled to lift myself up. Seeing my exhaustion, Master allowed me to rest. Granting my earlier request, he ordered me to shower. 

I stood under the shower water, dazed. In fact, washing myself was a surprising amount of effort. Forget that, standing was hard. 

I turned off the water and toweled off. When I opened the bathroom door, Master gave me until the count of three to be in the bed. I dropped my towel and sprinted into the bedroom. I fell into bed just as he said, "One." 

Master handed me my wand and instructed me to squirt for our guest. I tried, but was unable. That has literally never happened before. "I'm dehydrated, Sir." I breathed. 

Master lifted my new pussy pump out of my toybox. He placed it over my vulva and began evacuating the air. It starts with a gentle tug, quickly escalating to an ache, increasing in intensity until I cried out. Master turned to Hadrix and said, "She loves vacuum play. She is such a good whore." 

They toyed with me, slapping my tits, pulling on my pussy using the suction. The pain was exquisite...dull, with an amazing sensation of blood rushing into my clit. My pussy lips and clit began to swell, increasing my sensitivity. Master released the vacuum. He reached down and fondled my swollen lips. Smack. His hand fell on my aching pussy. I screeched in pain. Surprised by the vigor of my reaction, a small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. He struck me again. I let out a second yelp, louder this time. 

"On your stomach, slave."

Master dragged me sideways across the bed. He took my pussy and Hadrix took my mouth. Everything was a haze. Master's thrusting from behind drove me farther down on Hadrix's cock. I struggled for breath. My eyes watered. 

"Cum. Now." 

Master never raises his voice, but I am trained to pick it out. Even in my nearly complete stupor, I heard his voice. My body went rigid as the waves of pleasure washed over me. I convulsed as Master continued to pound me. 

"Are you still sucking his cock, bitch?" 

"Get back down on it." Hadrix pulled my face down hard on his cock, choking me. 

"Don't you stop cumming or you will be in a great deal of pain."

I could hear the danger in Master's voice. I struggled to maintain my orgasm, clenching tight around Master's cock while greedily sucking Hadrix. (Pause for a moment here, if you have never considered before how difficult it is to remember to do so many things while deep in subspace. The only thoughts left are simplified. Pain. Pleasure. Breath. Fear. Now, try maintaining an orgasm, clenching, sucking and breathing, trying not to choke on your saliva and snot. Sounds tough, right?) 

I started to choke, coughing hard. I heard Master suggest that we all take a break. 

"Are you thirsty, little one?" 

I nodded my head. 

"Get in the bathroom. Head in the toilet. Have a drink."

I struggled to my feet and walked into the bathroom. I knelt, unceremoniously, before the toilet, looked over my shoulder at Master and began lapping at the water. Master walked around behind me and began fucking me again. I braced myself against the bowl to avoid hitting my head and kept drinking. When Master decided I was finished, he ordered me back to the bed. 

"Face up this time."

They took turns: Hadrix in my pussy, Master in my mouth, Hadrix in my mouth, Master in my pussy. I was only vaguely aware of the short breaks while they switched. 

Breathe. Orgasm. Choke. Vicious spanking. Breathe. Choke. Focus hard on cumming, trying to force whomever was in my pussy out by clenching. Breathe. Spanking. Just don't stop cumming. Focus. Don't stop. 

I have no idea how long they went on, only that it was in the wee hours of the morning when Master decided to call it. I stroked Hadrix as Master came hard inside me. I could feel his cock throbbing inside of me. Hadrix flipped me onto my stomach and fucked my face until he came, spewing his load into my mouth. I choked again and my eyes watered. Sucking every last drop off, I opened my mouth and showed him his accomplishment. 

I swallowed and collapsed on the bed. 


Cum from last night is still in my hair where he wiped it as they left me on the bed exhausted and used.

Thursday, October 6, 2016

Old Friends: Abandonment and Grief

Contrary to popular belief, I am not perfect. I did something really stupid last night. Not only did it end up causing Master’s displeasure (which devastates me), but I’m fairly sure that I hurt the other person involved too.

This morning, when I awoke, I was still a little drunk. Last night, Master had told me that I was a “bad girl.” That is one of the most hurtful things that he can say to me. Don’t misunderstand. I deserved it. Master is still surprised, sometimes, by the vehemence of some of my emotional reactions.

All I remember is sobbing and feeling awful. This morning, when I finally had an opportunity to apply logic to my memories, I recognized the face of an old friend, Abandonment.

Abandonment and I have spent many years together. He is tall, and dark and slender to the point of looking skeletal. He has a hooked nose and tightly pursed lips. He wears a long black trench coat and a black wide brimmed hat. Sometimes, I can hear him calling my name, in a quiet voice like a whisper. If I draw near, his call rises to a shriek that makes me press my hands to my ears.

It seems to me that Abandonment is always hiding nearby, always waiting for me. We met when I was young, and he always comes to visit when things get rocky in my personal life.

Master said, “Bad girl,” and suddenly I could feel Abandonment walking beside me. His dark figure giving off cold rather than heat in proximity.

“You know what this means, little cat. How can your Master… care about someone as foolish as you, as disobedient?”

I could feel the disdain dripping from his tongue and sliding slowly down my spine.

“You can always come and stay with me, little cat. I will be with you until you die – as long as it takes,” Abandonment hissed.

Feeling alone, hurt, and sadly, more than a little drunk, I took Abandonment’s open hand. The dark familiar cold surrounded me. I was wrapped up in his spell. My ears were full of Abandonment’s screech. When my eyes adjusted to the glooming, I saw a small plump woman walking toward me. She was dressed like a poor housewife from the 19th century. Her apron was smeared with flour and her boots sorely scuffed.

I ran forward to meet her, another old friend of mine. Her eyes were kind, but desperately sad. I don’t know her true name, but I have always called her Grief.

We didn’t need to speak, she nor I, nor could we have heard each other anyway. She took me gently in her arms and held me tight to her bosom. My body went limp as I lost myself in her embrace. Tears fell like rain from tired eyes.

I don’t know how much time passed. I barely knew where I was. Experience drove me to find and consume my sleeping pills. With the howl of Abandonment buffeting my ears and the warmth of Grief holding me tight, my body was wracked with sobs, but my eyes closed, and I slept.

It was disturbed sleep. I am purposely not remembering my dream. Upon opening my eyes, I discovered that my two familiar guests had snuck away while I slept.

Master was there. He came to greet me.

“How are you feeling, little one? Is everything ok?”

I nodded. He sat down beside me and held me close. I felt safe and calm in his embrace. I offered some explanation of recent events.

“All you need is a little more training. It’s not a big deal, just a part of the learning process and the process of making you the best slave ever. Keep in mind, I already think you are the perfect slave for me. I will never in my life have another.

You know that I will never leave you. You are mine and I will not let you go. It doesn’t matter what you do. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you are the one for me. No doubt at all. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He bent his head and lifted my chin, so that our eyes met. He gently pressed his mouth over mine and whispered, “I love you.”

Saturday, October 1, 2016

Writer's Block and Breaking Free

I have to begin writing again. But, I don't feel like I have that much to say. I'm sure that it's just because I haven't been writing regularly... and if I don't make a point of recognising them, all the interesting moments of my life simply fade into a sea of homogeneous experience. 

I'm jetlagged. Master and I just got back from Barcelona. We spent 5 days there with his family. This was a new experience for me... I've never been invited on someone else's family vacation. But, these people feel like my family too and it was good to spend the time with them. 

They tell you that if you don't know what to write just keep writing and finally something will come to you. I'm not sure how I feel about that. Well, I haven't had much luck yet. 

I have, however, started on a new venture. I posted a picture a few days ago. The caption gave people the opportunity to make photo requests of me. 

Honestly, I don't know what to tell you kids. I want to entertain you with my literative brilliance... But I'm at a loss. I could tell you about how I have confirmed my dislike of Picasso, how I have missed Master's cuddles while we have been traveling, how I'm concerned that his brother might suffer from depression... You tell me. Are those things that you want to hear about? Do you want to hear about the mundane ins and outs of my life? I could tell you about my job search... Normally, I try to keep this blog to really juicy kinky things. Do you want to hear about my real life? Please let me know. 


Well, it's been a week since I started this post. I have been really struggling with my anxiety, and I don't think that there is a single force that is more deadly to my creativity. 

Master and I have continued to travel. I am currently in Indianapolis (for business). I am supposed to be attending a conference. I went for the first 2 full days. Yesterday, I just couldn't take it anymore. I was anxious and depressed. I felt completely overwhelmed by the amount of information that was being thrown my way. So, Master and I went back to our AirBNB and took the rest of the day off. The conference goes on for another full day, but we slept in and have spent a lazy day in bed. 

Yep. That means sex. For sure. 

It has been interesting for me to watch the progression of my slave training. Master has been very gentle of late because of my emotional lack of fortitude. However, looking back over the past 5 months, I am seeing changes. It is amazing how pliable I am in his hands. 

I am a strange combination between dependence and fierce independence. When I met Master, I would have vehemently denied that I was willing to be a slave. I considered myself a submissive. It wounded my pride to be called a slave. How quickly that changed... I found that within just a few days, I was willing to serve Master in whatever capacity he desired. I look back at it, now... A part of my personality that I considered so vital to "being me" melted away like snow before his heat. 

I have learned to love it when he slaps my clit. The first time, I thought it was one of the more painful things that I had ever experienced. He ordered me to keep my legs apart. I struggled and fought to keep my legs open, but every fiber of my being, all of my instincts, reflexes, screamed for my legs to close. I had to physically hold my ankles because I couldn't do it any other way. I cried, bitterly, from the pain. It was agony. Truly. Today, he did it again. Brought his hand down, stinging, on my clit. I happily exposed my pussy for his repeated strikes. Rather than agony, I writhed in ecstasy.

"Cum for me, bitch."

God, those words are so erotic. I allowed the waves of orgasm to overtake me. I panted and moaned as his hand continued to fall on my swollen and aroused clit. Harder and harder it fell. Each sting was stronger than the last. I grabbed my ankle to steady my legs and lost myself in orgasmic bliss. 

He knelt over me. He pulled at the waistband of his underwear. His fully erect cock sprang out toward my eager mouth. Side note here: I LOVE sucking cock. Love it. It is one of my favorite ways to tell Master that I love him. I took his throbbing cock in my mouth, gently passing my tongue around his head, while listening to his breathing become ragged with pleasure. He grabbed me by the hair and gently thrust his cock into my mouth. In and out. In and out. I relaxed under his control, and he guided my head. My tongue (secret weapon) swirled around him as he used my mouth. 

My jaw began to ache. I have TMJ and when I am anxious, it gets worse because I clench. Master was so gentle with me. I turned my head away and expressed my discomfort. Rather than the brutal punishement that I would normally receive, he pulled away. 

He moved down the bed and informed me that I no longer needed my pants. I laid on my back and pulled my knees toward my shoulders. We locked eyes as he eased into me. He thrust into me, harder and harder. I felt him slamming against my cervix. He commanded me to cum. He continued to pound me. Suddenly, he stopped and flipped me onto my face. He threw a pillow beneath my hips and entered me from behind. I love when Master mounts me. It makes me feel so completely owned. With my hips supported, I could feel his cock driving into the muscle wall of my abdomen. It is one of my favorite sensations. 

He turned me onto my back again. My ankles were on his shoulders. I love this position because it allows me to direct his cock straight at my g-spot. 

"Cum harder."

I clenched down hard on his cock. I pushed him out. I felt the warm wetness of my squirt dripping down my hungry cunt. He plunged in again. I pushed him out. More of my wetness coated his cock. He thrust in again. I tried to drive him out, clenching my pelvic muscles like I was trying to crush his cock. We fought like this, strength against strength, sweat coursing over our bodies. 

He withdrew quickly. 

"Take it, bitch."

I opened my mouth, and he came hard. Shooting his load into my hair, all over my face, and into my waiting mouth. I could feel the cum dripping down my scalp. 

With a charming smile, he helped me up and we went into the bathroom to shower. 

We leave Indianapolis on Monday. We are flying directly to Fort Collins to spend time with one of Master's best friends. It should be an amazing time. Really, all time I spend with him is amazing. I'm addicted to this man. I can't get enough. 

In spite of all the depression and anxiety, the unexpected twists and turns of life... Life is good. Life is really good.