Wednesday, June 29, 2016

At Master's feet

Most little girls grow up dreaming of a fairytale castle and a charming prince on a white horse. I dreamt of this also… However, my fairytale castle had a dungeon. In fact, it still does. I’ve finally found a prince who knows what to do with it, who knows what to do with me.

My life has changed so much in the past two months. I met my beloved Master. In two months he has changed me so drastically. He enslaved me with his charm, laughter, love, power, strength, and dominance. I have longed my entire life for someone who could control me, debase me, use me like a filthy whore and still cherish me. I found him. So many rights and freedoms that I would never have given away, I threw at his feet. It was so natural. It IS so natural.

I never expected to find a love like this or a man before whom I wanted to kneel. At his feet, I feel a peace that I have not felt before.

Every relationship is hard work. It is no small undertaking to transform two people into one unit. This is more than that. I want to be an extension of Master, so connected that I am as close to him as his arms and legs. In order to achieve this, I bend my will to his. His desires become my desires. Anything and everything he asks will be accomplished flawlessly, without question or hesitation.

This is the type of obedience to which I aspire. This is the obedience that I will achieve. My service makes me joyful, and my submission gives me freedom. The blessed and beautiful thing about all of this is that we have our entire lives to accomplish it.

I am beginning my slave training in earnest. I know that this is going to be difficult, painful, grueling and sometimes even horrific. I know that all that comes with unending love, affection, respect, and care.

Master has told me that things are going to change.

My life will include bathroom use control, dietary restrictions/specifications, and a dress code both inside and out of the house, bed times, and exercise schedules. When Master is not able to be with me, I will not be under the influence of any substance. I will limit physical, spoken, and eye contact with strangers. I will not speak to strangers unless spoken to or given consent by Master. From now on, I will take my meals, when at home, from a bowl at his feet.

Strangely enough, I cannot wait to begin. That is the way that I love this man. I will give him everything that I am, and everything that I am not. I will be clay in his hands for him to mold, shape and form into something abjectly beautiful.

Master says that I am ready to meet his sadist. I am frightened. I believe that I should be, but I want to know every facet of him. Beneath all of my fears, there is a foundation of truth. I trust this man. I trust him with my life. Someday, I will trust him with our children.

I am frightened of losing myself in his shadow. Yet, I know that he will protect me. Someday, in the not too distant future, I will no longer fear. The emotional agony wrought by others will be overwritten.
Fear is the mind killer.Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit is to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path.Where the fear has gone, there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.   
– from Dune by Frank Herbert
This is the first day of the rest of my life. I will face my challenges bravely. I know that each one will be rewarded a thousand times over. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life at the feet of my beloved.

Friday, June 24, 2016

Submission from across the globe

5500 miles. That's how far Master and I are apart, as the crow flies. Once I return, Master has declared that we will be inseparable. For the time being, we are separated. He has been sending me tasks to help me feel more connected to him and to continue to exert his dominance. I will present a few episodes for you here. 

"On the train, little one, you will find the bathroom, twist your nipples until you cry out in pain. Then, edge for 5 minutes. When you return to your seat, continue to edge until I say stop." 

Here goes. I rose from my seat and strode purposefully to the restroom that I had seen when boarding the train. I tried the door. Nothing indicated that the restroom was occupied. The door was stuck. The open button didn't work. I gave it a hard shove and the door slid open slightly. But, much to my chagrin someone was inside. I hoped they didn't notice me. So, I waited. And waited... you know how this is when you are waiting for someone to come out of the restroom. Finally, out they came. In I went. 

I reached under my shirt and grabbed my nipples between my fingers. They rose beneath my touch. I twisted. I immediately became aware of how much more effort it took to hurt myself than I expected. I did as I was told. I twisted, and I pinched, with my jaw clenched until I had to stifle a cry. 

I took down my pants and slid my fingers into my cunt. It was already wet. I thought about Master as my fingers slid in and out, circled gently around my clit and went back into my pussy. I stifled a moan. The train car swayed back and forth... I struggled to keep my balance, and I pressed my body harder into the wall of the restroom. 

The timer went off. I walked out, and returned to my seat.

I crossed my legs HARD when I sat down. Edging was hard with my piercing so fresh. But I kept it up, damn it. 

"You will kneel, in sub position, somewhere in public today, for two minutes."

We walked into the Piazza di Spagna. Tourists were everywhere. It always makes me feel like I am part of some herd going to the slaughter. I was feeling mildly uneasy. I was uncertain how my traveling companion would regard my kneeling in public. I was looking for a safe option. Attract as little attention as possible, I thought. Then I found my opportunity... There was a fountain. It was below ground level. I knelt and as I assumed sub position, sitting on my heels, knees apart and head lowered, I took a picture with my phone. Of nothing in particular, it was merely camouflage. 

I discussed it with Master a few minutes later. My snark very nearly got me into a lot of trouble. "I knelt at the edge of a fountain and took a picture," I said. "I had to have a good reason to kneel." Oops. Ladies and gentlemen, sarcasm is difficult to convey via text message. I very nearly got into some serious trouble. 

"When at home, always leave midriff exposed, unless told otherwise, and wear pants low. No underwear or bra in the house, cutie."

To be quite frank, this made me pretty nervous at first. As I may have mentioned earlier, my traveling companion is more on the conservative side of things. I wasn't sure how she would react. But, I did it anyway, of course. I remember how exposed I felt with my nipples peaked beneath my shirt and the pull of my jeans against my clit. She never said a word. 

"Kneel in sub position for 2 minutes today. Have Naomi take a picture. Send it to me."

I believe it was the night before, she and I had a very long conversation about the BDSM lifestyle (read about it here.). She was putting on makeup in the bathroom when I got Master's message. After the fiasco with the fountain, I had volunteered to have my traveling companion take a picture of my submission. Not very exciting, but it got the job done. Naomi didn't say a word about it. She simply complied. This time, I was sure she had questions, but she never asked. 

"While you are out in town today, go to a public restroom. Kneel on the floor and place your head into the toilet bowl. Edge like this for 5 minutes. Then, sit on the toilet and edge 5 minutes more. If you do not comply, you must send a picture or an explanation of why."

Were I with Master, none of these requests would make me uncomfortable... more than he intended anyway. Traveling with a non-kink person, whose opinion I value so much, causes me a bit of anxiety. Leaving her to go to the restroom was one thing. 10 minutes seemed like another. 

I swallowed my pride and my anxiety and made my way to the WC (as they call it here). I think most of you, dear readers, are american... In Italy, there is often a charge to use a public restroom. For me, there is this feeling of attending some filthy amusement park with the little gate where you deposit your coins and go in. (Of course, all amusement parks are filthy)

The stall was less than civilized. There was toilet paper on the floor, damp with muddy urine. The door didn't lock. There was no seat on the toilet. I don't think that I have ever been so relieved by a dirty bathroom floor. I snapped a picture to send to Master. I perched myself on the edge of the toilet bowl, spread my legs wide and slipped my fingers into my pussy. It was humid in the restroom. I could feel the moisture from the water in the bowl below me. 

I thrusted firmly with my fingers toward my g-spot. I focused on the sensation and started my timer. 10 minutes. I worked hard. I broke a sweat. About four minutes in, someone opened the door. I pulled it shut again immediately... but the minutes grew longer as I had to hold the door shut to prevent interruptions. Ten minutes is a long time to edge. It seemed eternal in that cramped dirty little stall. When the timer went off, I realized that my hand was quite wet, enough so that I would need to clean it before I could pull up my jeans. 

I licked my juices from my fingers, dried them on some toilet paper, rearranged myself, washed my hands, and walked into daylight. I felt naughty, dirty, and yet, somehow accomplished. 

Monday, June 20, 2016

How this all started

I think Master and I might be Fetlife's greatest success. That is, of course, impossible to know... nevertheless, there sure were a lot of coincidental events that brought us together.

I believe in fate. Call it a leftover from my religious upbringing. Call it whatever you will. It helps me to bring sense to the world in which I live.

I joined Fetlife on a whim. Several people had told me that it would be a good way to get plugged into the community... but I had never done it. One evening, after a couple of beers, I did it. I signed up. I didn't know anyone. I didn't really know anything about the site. I just wanted to check it out.

I put up one picture of myself, a bit coy and wearing a crown (I would share, but I don't want to put my face on my blog.). I wrote a tiny blurb about myself. The hook was, "If you choose to know me, be forewarned, I am a bit much to handle... not for the faint of heart."

After that, I set off to find someone to talk to; ideally, local, my age, and a dominant... but I was open to other things. I looked through the first two pages of results in my area.
Nope. Nope. Unattractive. Sounds creepy. Nope.

I moved on to the third page. 28M Dom. Ok, that sounds promising. I opened his profile. Not only was he extremely good looking, but his About Me section was full of joy, honesty, and discussion of doing things for the sole purpose of making other people happy. Not only that, but his fantasies went as dark as mine. Darker even. Sounded like fun. Sold. So, I sent him a message.
C: Tell me about you?
I was feeling especially nonchalant after my two beers. I had no expectations. Then, he responded! We traded a few basic pleasantries.
M: Just curious what you'd like to know about me, Catlytt :-) hope you're having a great night so far! :-)
C: I'm a sub... but pretty shy about it. I'm kind of looking into the lifestyle/looking for a relationship.
M: Well, munches are decent to go to. Also, I'd be interested in meeting with you, if you think you'd enjoy hanging out with me :-) Tell me about your submissive desires, fantasies, things that make you satisfied or happy. If you're comfortable sharing that. Or non-kink things, too! Tell me about you being a bit much to handle--I'm curious! :-)
Oh my god, he took the bait.
C: I would be totally cool with hanging out sometime. I have yet to really go to anything... I'm a bit shy. I want to know whatever you would like to share. I'm curious by nature. :-) Pray tell whatever you think I should know. I've never had a real sub/dom relationship. It's something that I have wanted for as long as I can remember... but a good dom is hard to find. I'm a fairly aggressive and dominant personality outside of the bedroom. I love feeling like I am serving a master as they would like. I like a sensitive and intuitive master who is not unnecessarily brutal. I like pain, but I have my limits. For me, the sub/dom lifestyle is very emotional... the give and take is fairly sacred. But, I may or not provoke a master... :-P
M: Not only a good Dom, but the right one for you. I've been having the same situation with subs haha, although they aren't so much bad or awful people as they just aren't the right fit. You've wanted this for a long time--that must be frustrating as heck, but here's the good news--good Doms are out there, for sure. Your time will definitely come :-) Ok! I look forward to talking with you! I have my own experiences and take on things, both of which I can tell you, but I'm by no means an expert--no one is. Each relationship is unique :-) Hahaha, a little bratty, perhaps :-P. Very very fun! D/s relationships can be very incredibly intimate, and they don't even require sex! Although of course they can as a possibility. But yes, it's a very fulfilling experience for many people.
C: Of course! I was raised in a very closed-minded town... But I have had pretty dark fantasies for a long time, long before I understood them. I'm totally game for hanging out sometime if you would like. I'm off all this week.Yes, It's the intimacy I am longing for. Though, sex is always welcome. I'm a bit of a nympho.I don't know if I would call it bratty... I'm certainly not spoiled. But, I do have a serious mind of my own.
M: Oh! Vacation????? And this week, as in until Monday?
C: I start back on tuesday night.
M: Well then. Intimacy, sex. Nympho, eh? :-P. Strong words from the shy little sub ;-P. Only kidding. But you do seem intriguing :-) smart, sexy, and kinky? Not the worst combination haha.Serious mind indeed :-)
C: Well, here is my number. Text if you're interested.
Sorry guys, I must edit out a few things. I can't have my number floating around on the internet.

Then, he texted me. I could hardly believe it! We arranged to meet Saturday. We kept texting, sharing more information. He asked for permission to specify how I should dress for our meeting, and he sent me an ominous picture of a binder clip with a caption that said it was for me. I allowed him to dom me a little, but I made it very clear that I was not allowing much more until I trusted him. Along those lines, I also set a hard limit on gags... until the requisite trust was established.

On Friday afternoon, he asked if I was available that night to meet. So much for Saturday. I said that I was free. He told me to bring overnight things, but that he would reserve judgement about whether or not we would play until we met. This might have been concerning with someone else, but I had a pretty good feeling for this guy. He really didn't seem creepy. He seemed like an awesome person to know. So, I let him have the reins.

He told me to wear a buttoned down shirt, with one more button open than I normally would, and the shortest skirt in my arsenal. I had a moment of stress while I tried to put together an outfit. (Confession: I'm pretty vain.) I finally decided on a crisp white shirt, a grey miniskirt, and high heeled boots. I felt exposed. (This was much more revealing than I normally dress and more revealing than my mother would ever have tolerated.)

I talked with my safe-call. I told her where I was going, when I was going, and told her that I would report in at intervals. If I didn't respond to her within a designated time, she would call the police. Personal safety, check. I was so nervous that I could barely walk. I was, literally, shaking in my boots. So, I went to the bar an hour early. I figured that if we had to meet on neutral territory that I could at least get the lay of the land first.

I got a beer. Chugged it. Still nervous. I got a second beer. I was halfway through putting it away when he walked in.

He didn't see me at first. He looked all around. But then, he spotted me. He strode purposefully across the room and sat beside me. There was some nervous laughter, on my part, though I tried to play it off.

He took a good long look at me, like a person who had been in a desert for weeks and has just spotted water. His eyes hugged my curves like a second skin. "Good girl," he whispered in my ear, "Very good girl."

It was noisy in the bar. We shouted at each other for a couple of minutes when he leaned in again, "You're coming home with me." I had prepared myself for this. I brought my overnight bag. I was ready. "Yes Sir," I said with a flutter of concern/uncertainty in my belly. I wanted to trust him. Oh, how it turned me on.

Honestly, I've never gone home with a stranger before. They always come home with me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I'm a huntress.
And that's what happened. I didn't eat. I couldn't. In my nervous state, I forgot all my things in my car. But, he took me home with him.

His place wasn't far from the bar. It only took us a couple of minutes to get there. It was a quiet neighborhood. He lead me up a walk, around behind a house, and downstairs into the basement. In his bedroom, there was a mattress on the floor, which did, at least, appear to have clean sheets. It was a fairly spartan living space, not much different than I had expected.

We climbed onto the mattress. His lips met mine. His fingers tangled into my hair, and I let go. I trusted. Blindly. He took control.
Our clothes came off in a very matter-of-fact way. There was no passionate ripping. It happened as if it were totally expected, part of the arrangement. I was frightened and so aroused. I continued to choose to trust.

He got up from the bed. I stifled a gasp as I watched the muscles ripple in his thigh, watched him move around the room. I was mesmerised.

As it turned out, he was serious about the binder clips. They pinched hard (really, fucking hard!) on my nipples, sending electric shocks straight down my spine. I felt my pussy throb as if startled from sleep. His fingers slid over my body and took their place in my dripping cunt. I had warned him previously that it was difficult to make me cum. He made me look like a liar.

I was completely at his mercy. There was not a single part of me that wanted to stop him. Honestly, I was asking myself if I would fuck on the first date. Yes, I decided, I would. I'm so ready. Take me. This lack of control is completely intoxicating.

He didn't try. I must admit I was befuddled. There hadn't been many men in my life who hadn't tried to get in my pants right away. It was curious, but I let it go.

I was completely spent. He didn't get awkward. He didn't kick me out. He wrapped his arms around me, and went to sleep. Normally, I need sleeping pills to sleep, but not that night. Curled up in his arms, cradled in the warmth of his body, I slept, not a care in the world.

We spent the next two days together. All day Saturday and Sunday morning. We had an amazing time. We held hands. Kissed in public. Laughed and smiled until our faces began to cramp. Then, I went home.

I had been home for a few hours when I got a text message. He was very polite, if a little withdrawn. He explained that he had a lot going on in his life right now with school, apartment hunting, and surgical planning. He basically told me that he didn't have time for me. I wanted something serious, and he was too busy.

I cried. It may seem silly, but I was so disappointed. The weekend had been like a dream come true for me. I had more fun than I had had in months. I felt cared for, special, cherished. And suddenly, it was over. I was practically dejected. I talked with one of my best friends. She comforted me. I let it go. He continued to talk back and forth, a little, the rest of Sunday and Monday.

Monday, late afternoon, I got a text.

M: May I come over and see you after work?

My pulse quickened. My cheeks flushed. I cracked the tiniest of grins as I replied, "Yes Sir."

Saturday, June 18, 2016

Abroad, but not unchained

Well, I am in Rome. One of my best childhood friends and I are spending three weeks traveling through Italy. It’s a celebration of finishing graduate school and getting my first big girl job. We have been best friends for years and years, but being in this kind of close proximity brings to light all kinds of things that we previously hadn’t talked about. I told her a few months ago that I was into BDSM. We didn’t talk too much about it at the time, but now that I belong to Master, it is finally needing to be discussed.

My collar has become a part of me now, just as Master has become a part of my life. They are both exquisitely permanent. The difficulty that remains is helping people to understand. It didn’t take long before Naomi asked me about my collar.

“Does that actually lock? It looks like it locks.” Oh absolutely, it locks.

So, I am on a journey through Italy in 24/7 submission, without my wonderful Master. It’s been difficult being away from him, and it has only been just a few days. I miss his love, the intimacy of being subservient, my place at his feet, his intensity and warmth. I have his commands from afar… relatively minimal contact and the weight of his collar around my neck to give me peace. But it is nothing like the real thing.

I have removed my bra and panties. Master requested that whenever I am where I am staying that I lose the undergarments. So, my nipples are peaked beneath my thin tee, and I can feel my clit piercing rub on the inside of my jeans. It’s a gentle reminder of who owns my body. His ownership makes me feel so secure.  While I am gone, Master is sending me commands to remind me of my subservience and remind me of his presence in my life. I love each and every one. I cannot imagine being anything other than obedient. He means so very much to me. I want desperately to please him always.

The other day, Naomi expressed some curiosity about the Dom/sub relationship: how it works, what it is like for me, how can someone be a sadist and not a horrible person...

That was one large glass of limoncello. 

I started by explaining that there are different types of submissives, that sub is a generic term, but that it generally indicates a certain set of behaviors. I explained to her that I actually consider myself a slave and that means that I have even less say about what Master does with me (by choice, of course). I explained to her that the Dom/sub relationship is based on trust, and that both partners enjoy the power exchange. We discussed how everything is agreed upon by both partners ahead of time, especially with new partners. 

I told her that I was raised as a submissive... with two controlling parents, having my life be out of my control and in the hands of someone that I trust is very comforting. We discussed how one comes to build that trust with another person. Master and I were able to build our trust very quickly. Originally, it was "You have never given me a reason not to trust you." That transitioned into, "You have given me so many reasons to trust you." In my case, I was blessed beyond belief. Master and I are from completely different backgrounds, but we share so much in the way that our minds work. He has no trouble reading my needs and wants. He gives me everything that I need to be ok. (Don't, my dear readers, believe that he is soft on me. He isn't.) 

I explained to her that, as far as I understand it, that the edification that Master gets from causing me pain and degrading me is more about power and control than causing pain. Master is one of the kindest people I know. His sadism is separate from the rest of his personality... It's a bit of an outlier, really. I tried to explain it in terms of something that she already understood. 
Rape is a crime of power not of passion. It's kind of like that... except being expressed in a healthy way with two consenting adults. 
I think that made sense to her... it's so hard to explain these things to people who have no idea about the lifestyle and the patterns of thought that go with it. It feels like trying to explain the color green to a person who was born blind. 

Like I said, we have three weeks together. I'm sure that we will be discussing this more. I'll be sure to bring you all the play-by-play while I attempt to educate my very religious, conservative friend about my kink. 

A weekend away

Right after my piercing, Master and I got in the car and drove to Portland. I am, or have been until recently, the cuddliest person that I have ever known. With Master, I have finally met my match. I adjusted my position carefully in the seat of the car to avoid pain from my piercing. I was feeling sensitive emotionally, likely secondary to the pain I had just experienced, so I kept physical contact with Master the entire drive (somewhere between two and three hours).  

We stopped a little bit outside of Portland. We had been invited to dinner with Master’s parents at the home of a family friend. As I believe I have mentioned before, I grew up in a very conservative part of the United States… East Texas to be specific. I now live in the Pacific Northwest. It would be difficult to find a place more ideologically different than where I came from. This suits me well, but most of my family and friends are still extremely conservative. It doesn’t matter how much I change, that place will always be a part of me.

Generally, I try to avoid political conversations… but talk turned to politics. It wasn’t that I so much disagreed with the political views of my hosts, I was offended by the way they talked about people who held different views. Regardless of what I think, “those people” are my friends and family… and until a few years ago, me. That, in combination with the pain in my clitoris and my inability to get comfortable exhausted me quickly, physically and emotionally. Master was very attentive, as always, giving me reasons to get up and move around or go outside so that I could get some reprieve. I don’t wish to be ungrateful, but we couldn’t have left soon enough.  I let out a sigh of relief when we drove the rest of the way to Portland.

Master’s parents, on the other hand, are some of the more delightful people that I’ve met. This last visit was the third time I had met them and the first time that I had worn a collar in front of them. Contrary to what one might think, I feel free when I wear my collar. It’s like finally not hiding a part of myself. I’m out and I’m proud… for those who know where to look. I feel like a bird out of my cage. I’m getting carried away– I immediately felt like part of the family. There were no strings, no judgment. They seem like refreshingly normal, well-balanced people.

Master was so excited to show me around his hometown. This was our first visit when we actually had time to enjoy the city. He took me to a bustling district in Southwest Portland. We parked the car and ran a quick errand. We set out on foot to explore. I wore a skirt in hopes of keeping pressure of my piercing. Unfortunately, I chose a skirt that limited the length of my stride. Suddenly, I found myself struggling to keep up with Master who walks quickly anyway. All those short little steps. With each stride, I felt my piercing rub. It was a little painful, but I began to notice the weight of the jewelry and become increasingly aware of my arousal. I wasn’t wearing underwear. I had discovered that even the friction from my thong was uncomfortable earlier. It was warm out.

Our first stop was Master’s favorite kink shop. I was surprised by the selection and could have easily dawdled there for quite a while. We moved on. We stopped for lunch and a drink at a bar somewhere. The longer we were out, the sweatier and more aroused I got. It wasn’t long before I was completely slick with sweat and my own juices. Most of the time we spent that afternoon is hazy for me. Master and I were completely lost in each other.

It wouldn’t matter to me if we spent the weekend on the sofa, at a hospital, or on the surface of the moon… as long as we are together, nothing is wrong in the world. That’s love for you.

The drive back was much like the drive to Portland… with the exception of a little fellatio along the way.  ;-)