Today's conversation:
Me: You don't want someone living here who makes me nervous and wants to hurt me, do you?
My Him: No. That's my job.
Later...
My Him: OK, I'm here. Do you want me to call you when I'm done?
Me: Yes, please.
My Him: God, I love it when you say that to me. Especially when I'm doing something nice for you.
Me: And a phone call is always nice to get from you.
My Him: That's not what I meant.
Me: I know.
My Him: Mmmm...good girl.
27.4.09
19.4.09
Oh, holy hell
This is short.
I made a mistake on Friday. My Him was whipping me, and oh, how it hurt. I held on as best as I could - I tried to remember that he'd never hurt me more than I could manage, but I finally said, "Please, baby, please, no more."
The beating stopped, and I could almost hear him do the same. He paused and took a breath. "What did you say to me?" he asked, and I could hear the anger in his voice. Before I could respond (and I knew better but I can be willful) he told me, "You're getting 5 more. And you will count them down."
I waited, waited to receive another lash, when he said, "Go." I started, "One." Oh, the anger in him was so strong...
I made it to 4 without collapsing. Down off my elbows, tears mixing with the sweat running down my face, I could only mouth the word 5.
I made a mistake on Friday. My Him was whipping me, and oh, how it hurt. I held on as best as I could - I tried to remember that he'd never hurt me more than I could manage, but I finally said, "Please, baby, please, no more."
The beating stopped, and I could almost hear him do the same. He paused and took a breath. "What did you say to me?" he asked, and I could hear the anger in his voice. Before I could respond (and I knew better but I can be willful) he told me, "You're getting 5 more. And you will count them down."
I waited, waited to receive another lash, when he said, "Go." I started, "One." Oh, the anger in him was so strong...
I made it to 4 without collapsing. Down off my elbows, tears mixing with the sweat running down my face, I could only mouth the word 5.
16.4.09
The whole story
As promised, here's how the evening went down:
I met some friends at a bar that's built into a cave for cocktails. What a gorgeous place; it keeps everyone off balance, and not only because the floor isn't level.
I got ready by reapplying all my makeup, and when I went downstairs in my indigo jeans, deep green V-neck shirt, and sparkly black heels, one of my friends simply said, "You look gorgeous."
The one I wanted to see (let's call him Previous) was late. I was already into my second Cosmo when he arrived. I stood to hug him, and he kissed my cheek. Interesting, I thought. All of us talked - let me tell you the layout: There were two loveseats and a throne-styled chair at the opposite side. Previous and I were directly across from each other, about a long-ways coffee table apart. At first, it was easy. I talked with my more proximate friends, he with his. Yet, at each chance, we looked at each other. Glances at the beginning, then meaningful, close, overly long eye contact. We just couldn't help it, although I'm not sure if initially it was curiosity or attraction.
Finally, he said, "I want to ask you some questions, but I need to go." I told him to get over here and ask me. He came back with refills, and I kicked away the guy next to me. Previous sat so close to me that I could feel my thigh get warm with his body heat. We watched each other more than anything, barely speaking, not able to banter as we used to.
After a few beats, we relaxed and rehashed our entire relationship. His first question: "Do you remember the couch? Oh, how we used to fuck on that couch." Of course I remembered. I asked him if he remembered breaking his bed, or how he broke up a party at his house to be near me. He did. He asked if I remembered fucking all over my parents' house. Good lord, yes. It was amazing to know that he remembered the same things I did. He finally said, "Oh, we didn't fuck, we made love." I rolled my eyes at Previous and said, "Baby, we fucked." He smiled at me.
By then, I was running my fingers over his thighs, hiding it by crossing my leg over his. He was getting twitchy; he finally looked over and said, "The electricity, oh, god, the electricity's still there."
I knew then that I wanted him, preferably in an alley outside the cave bar. Yet we had friends there who wouldn't go away. After awkward conversations and texts and all, Previous and I finally made it outside. There was nowhere to go and limited time to spend together. There were kisses while leaning on the trunk of my car. We finally got into the front of my car and kissed and groped, and oh, god, kissed. I ran my hand over his cock, still encased in his jeans. He tried to pull my hand in. I gasped, "Help me." He opened his zipper and I started to rub his cock, and it became familiar again. I knew where to touch, where to apply pressure. He pulled my hand away, then looked at his cock and then at me.
"You want it, don't you?" I asked. "You want my mouth on you." I leaned down to suck him into me. It took some time, but I remembered the rhythm that Previous preferred, and he came quickly the first time. He has some of the best-tasting come I've ever had, and I thought he wasn't done, so I kept at him. Sucking, licking, running my tongue over his cock, and when he wrapped his hands into my hair and pulled me down too quickly, I'd pull away and run my tongue over the slit of his cock, so I could catch my breath. Oh, it was glorious to take him into me, and finally feel his cock move in the way that I knew that meant his orgasm was eminent. He pulled my hair and head closer, and when he finally came into my mouth, oh, it was perfect.
Once done, I licked his cock clean and when I pulled back up, he grabbed my head again and kissed me, over and over again. We continued kissing for a while, forever, but not long enough.
As I drove away, I listened to Chaka Khan's, "I Feel For You."
I met some friends at a bar that's built into a cave for cocktails. What a gorgeous place; it keeps everyone off balance, and not only because the floor isn't level.
I got ready by reapplying all my makeup, and when I went downstairs in my indigo jeans, deep green V-neck shirt, and sparkly black heels, one of my friends simply said, "You look gorgeous."
The one I wanted to see (let's call him Previous) was late. I was already into my second Cosmo when he arrived. I stood to hug him, and he kissed my cheek. Interesting, I thought. All of us talked - let me tell you the layout: There were two loveseats and a throne-styled chair at the opposite side. Previous and I were directly across from each other, about a long-ways coffee table apart. At first, it was easy. I talked with my more proximate friends, he with his. Yet, at each chance, we looked at each other. Glances at the beginning, then meaningful, close, overly long eye contact. We just couldn't help it, although I'm not sure if initially it was curiosity or attraction.
Finally, he said, "I want to ask you some questions, but I need to go." I told him to get over here and ask me. He came back with refills, and I kicked away the guy next to me. Previous sat so close to me that I could feel my thigh get warm with his body heat. We watched each other more than anything, barely speaking, not able to banter as we used to.
After a few beats, we relaxed and rehashed our entire relationship. His first question: "Do you remember the couch? Oh, how we used to fuck on that couch." Of course I remembered. I asked him if he remembered breaking his bed, or how he broke up a party at his house to be near me. He did. He asked if I remembered fucking all over my parents' house. Good lord, yes. It was amazing to know that he remembered the same things I did. He finally said, "Oh, we didn't fuck, we made love." I rolled my eyes at Previous and said, "Baby, we fucked." He smiled at me.
By then, I was running my fingers over his thighs, hiding it by crossing my leg over his. He was getting twitchy; he finally looked over and said, "The electricity, oh, god, the electricity's still there."
I knew then that I wanted him, preferably in an alley outside the cave bar. Yet we had friends there who wouldn't go away. After awkward conversations and texts and all, Previous and I finally made it outside. There was nowhere to go and limited time to spend together. There were kisses while leaning on the trunk of my car. We finally got into the front of my car and kissed and groped, and oh, god, kissed. I ran my hand over his cock, still encased in his jeans. He tried to pull my hand in. I gasped, "Help me." He opened his zipper and I started to rub his cock, and it became familiar again. I knew where to touch, where to apply pressure. He pulled my hand away, then looked at his cock and then at me.
"You want it, don't you?" I asked. "You want my mouth on you." I leaned down to suck him into me. It took some time, but I remembered the rhythm that Previous preferred, and he came quickly the first time. He has some of the best-tasting come I've ever had, and I thought he wasn't done, so I kept at him. Sucking, licking, running my tongue over his cock, and when he wrapped his hands into my hair and pulled me down too quickly, I'd pull away and run my tongue over the slit of his cock, so I could catch my breath. Oh, it was glorious to take him into me, and finally feel his cock move in the way that I knew that meant his orgasm was eminent. He pulled my hair and head closer, and when he finally came into my mouth, oh, it was perfect.
Once done, I licked his cock clean and when I pulled back up, he grabbed my head again and kissed me, over and over again. We continued kissing for a while, forever, but not long enough.
As I drove away, I listened to Chaka Khan's, "I Feel For You."
10.4.09
Free-flowing thoughts
It's been quite a week. Suck it up, kids, it's not going to be a normal post, but this is a place where I can freely write.
- I blew my ex this week. I made him come twice with one blowjob. Either I'm really fucking good or he's not getting it right. Following him on FB is odd, and I'm guessing that the message I just sent to him won't be good. Or maybe it will. He got to get off, and I didn't. Yes, his wedding is next month - good on him! - but I'd still like to finish what we started.
- I would have been able to fuck him had not another friend decided to stick around the entire time. I finally said, "You look spent, are you sure you don't want to pack it in?" He replied, "Are you trying to get rid of me?" I answered, "Yes." Still, he didn't leave. So for all of you guys who say that women don't tell you what they want, I say, "FUCK YOU."
- When I told one of my friends what I've done, I could hear her audibly inhale. Like I don't feel badly enough, because figuring out how to balance my life and my relationships against the traditional ones is hard. And for those of you who think that I'm just buying in to what's been to taught to all of us, I reiterate, "FUCK YOU."
- I am an incurable flirt. I so enjoyed this ex's company. I found it interesting that I didn't find him as physically attractive as I used to, but still, the chemistry was still there.
- He called it "electricity". That made me want him more.
OK, OK, I'll write the whole story soon.
I need butcher paper, two pieces, so I can create my tombstomb.
One last: While I was there, I almost called my ex by my Him's name. I think we know what this means.
- I blew my ex this week. I made him come twice with one blowjob. Either I'm really fucking good or he's not getting it right. Following him on FB is odd, and I'm guessing that the message I just sent to him won't be good. Or maybe it will. He got to get off, and I didn't. Yes, his wedding is next month - good on him! - but I'd still like to finish what we started.
- I would have been able to fuck him had not another friend decided to stick around the entire time. I finally said, "You look spent, are you sure you don't want to pack it in?" He replied, "Are you trying to get rid of me?" I answered, "Yes." Still, he didn't leave. So for all of you guys who say that women don't tell you what they want, I say, "FUCK YOU."
- When I told one of my friends what I've done, I could hear her audibly inhale. Like I don't feel badly enough, because figuring out how to balance my life and my relationships against the traditional ones is hard. And for those of you who think that I'm just buying in to what's been to taught to all of us, I reiterate, "FUCK YOU."
- I am an incurable flirt. I so enjoyed this ex's company. I found it interesting that I didn't find him as physically attractive as I used to, but still, the chemistry was still there.
- He called it "electricity". That made me want him more.
OK, OK, I'll write the whole story soon.
I need butcher paper, two pieces, so I can create my tombstomb.
One last: While I was there, I almost called my ex by my Him's name. I think we know what this means.
4.4.09
He Watches
Tonight, I am yours. I am your toy, your plaything. You know that I feel greedy. You know that I want to be used and used and fucked until I cry and ask you to stop. However, I know that you're not going to be the only one who uses me.
Just tell me to lie back and take it. Tell me that you know that this is exactly what I want, what I've begged you to give me. Baby, look me in the eye and tell me that you'll watch me as I'm being used. Tell me that that doesn't make me dirty, but perfect for those you've chosen who want me.
Walk away from me, move into the place you've chosen. Watch me dip my back, raise my hips to take the first man who places his cock into me. I love you watching me being used, fucked, and oh, baby, I love knowing that you enjoy watching this. You're not at all jealous because you know that you've arranged this whole evening for your enjoyment.
I feel him run in and out of me, his cock, his desire to lie his body over me. I love letting him know, if only for that moment, that I am his (under you). I want him to push himself deeper and deeper into me. I want his cock until I feel split open, until he hits my cervix, while you watch this. He's going to make me come. I focus my eyes on yours until you move closer. Oh, honey, please, let me come - let him come in me. I know what you'll say.
"Baby, let him. I love you. And I will always be the last person who fucks you. Are you ready for another?"
Just tell me to lie back and take it. Tell me that you know that this is exactly what I want, what I've begged you to give me. Baby, look me in the eye and tell me that you'll watch me as I'm being used. Tell me that that doesn't make me dirty, but perfect for those you've chosen who want me.
Walk away from me, move into the place you've chosen. Watch me dip my back, raise my hips to take the first man who places his cock into me. I love you watching me being used, fucked, and oh, baby, I love knowing that you enjoy watching this. You're not at all jealous because you know that you've arranged this whole evening for your enjoyment.
I feel him run in and out of me, his cock, his desire to lie his body over me. I love letting him know, if only for that moment, that I am his (under you). I want him to push himself deeper and deeper into me. I want his cock until I feel split open, until he hits my cervix, while you watch this. He's going to make me come. I focus my eyes on yours until you move closer. Oh, honey, please, let me come - let him come in me. I know what you'll say.
"Baby, let him. I love you. And I will always be the last person who fucks you. Are you ready for another?"
3.4.09
Knife
This is an incomplete thought, brought about by reading the case of People v. Jovanovic.
I've been thinking about the nature of my Him's and my relationship. The general theme is psychological control more than physical restraints, not that I'm against the physicality, clearly.
Tonight, I dream of my Him telling me to stay still - very still. I want him to take out one of his chef's knives and run it lightly over my body. I want my Him to start at my throat, and run the knife slowly down my body. I want it near my nipples, circling them, as I watch the intensity in his eyes. I want to feel the real fear of his control, without anything bodily holding me in place.
Knowing that any motion on my part could bring me real harm makes it almost impossible for me not to squirm, yet I know that I have to control myself, stay still, concentrate on my Him and not on myself.
Like I said, an incomplete thought, yet something I'll spend the weekend developing.
I've been thinking about the nature of my Him's and my relationship. The general theme is psychological control more than physical restraints, not that I'm against the physicality, clearly.
Tonight, I dream of my Him telling me to stay still - very still. I want him to take out one of his chef's knives and run it lightly over my body. I want my Him to start at my throat, and run the knife slowly down my body. I want it near my nipples, circling them, as I watch the intensity in his eyes. I want to feel the real fear of his control, without anything bodily holding me in place.
Knowing that any motion on my part could bring me real harm makes it almost impossible for me not to squirm, yet I know that I have to control myself, stay still, concentrate on my Him and not on myself.
Like I said, an incomplete thought, yet something I'll spend the weekend developing.
13.3.09
Two Questions
That's all I get, two questions, when my Him allows me to ask anything at all. I never know what to ask. "Are you going to hurt me?" I already know the answer to that. He's already promised to up the ante on me. We've graduated to what he considers a thrashing. "Will you fuck me?" I know the answer to that question as well. Yes, he will, yes, I will beg for him, yes, he will fuck me better than anyone else can. I suppose I could ask him if others will be watching today. I'm not sure I want to know. He knows how much freer I feel in cuffs and blindfolded, he knows my fear of the judgment of others. He knows that part of his allowing others to play with me is that they are not allowed to say anything detrimental about me or to me. Only he can call me his slut, his whore. For him, I am.
So I say nothing when he tells me that I can ask him questions.
So I say nothing when he tells me that I can ask him questions.
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