Her touch

I'm amazed by the feelings I get when she touches me. Not just holding my hand or the cuddle on the sofa in front of the telly, but how it feels when I suddenly realise she wants me. The touch of her hands, the feeling of her mouth to mine, her body close to mine. It's always amazing.

I've been working to much this fall, at least that's how it feels. We've had the everyday life we were asking for, but there hasn't been enough time or energy left for us. We haven't done anything just the two of us, no movie theater or beer at the pub. Nothing, just putting kid to bed, watch Dr Who, go to sleep. That's nok okay. That's not enough.

She just fucked me, hard and lovingly, and now she's making sandwiches to eat in front of the telly. And she told me to go write something, anything, about the kinky side of our life. The silence on here has a direct connection to the all to little focus the power exchange between us, and the love and sex and connection between us, has gotten at the end of 2014. I think there's a good  chance that that will change in 2015.

Questions 3! Sex life.

How often you have a scene and what do you usually do? You mentioned in a past post you life anal. Do you do it much? What is your sex life like? Do you go down on each other, use strapons? 

For us, sex function as a glue that keeps our relationship working. We need to connect that way, to reinforce our love and our dynamic. It's very much about her owning me, about me belonging to her, and about us being together. Unfortunately life has a nasty tendency to get in the way of our sex life. I tend to blame it all on us being parents, but the fact is that before the kid came along we had a lot of other stuff getting in the way. So not as often as we'd like tends to be the constant answer. But I know that if it's been a week and we haven't had sex and/or a S/M-scene, I start to feel crappy and get obnoxious. So somewhere between a couple of times a week and every forthnight, depending on health and stress levels mostly.

I'm all for fucking the stress away but Mistress needs to decompress and feel comfortable with herself and her home and her world before her libido gets going, and she's the one who gets to say when.


We don't have vanilla sex, I don't think we could even if we for some reason would want to. It doesn't necessarily involve toys or pain or orders, but she's always in charge. I'm receptive and present and willing and communicating, but she's the one deciding what we're going to do. I don't touch her without permission (it doesn't have to be verbal though) or change position or things like that. It's very much her fucking me, not the other way around.

She uses a strap on or her hands, and I'm often encouraged to use my hands too. We're not into oral sex, either of us, so we don't do that. When it's more scene-like, with more sadism and toys and perhaps planned a little in advanced it's usually very calm and slow and serene. She has trained me to lie perfectly still, and she's very methodic and focused. She never tells me in advance what she's going to do, and I'm pretty sure she makes it up as she goes along, but it feels almost ritualistic, very ordered, very centered.

I like anal, very much, but Mistress seem to be rather indifferent to it. If she just want to fuck me my pussy is more convenient, and that's usually what she uses. I always want more anal sex (like I always want more orgasms, and fucking, and beating, and hugging and attention and just generally  more of everything because I'm a glutton) but it's not something I obsesse about. She fucks me that way sometimes and when she do I love it. That's about it.

Going away

Tomorrow morning Mistress leaves for Spain. She'll be back Friday, and even though I really don't like her going away from me, it feels a lot better than the last time she travelled. One of the main reason is probably that this time neither I nor anyone else thinks I'm okay with it, and expects me to be perfectly all right when she gets back.

We have all kinds of support in place, the biggest one being my in-laws coming and living with me and little S from Tuesday to Thursday. And we're going to talk every day, and I'll have a schedule, and there's food in the fridge, and everything is going to be okay. Except that I'll miss her like crazy.

Yesterday she whipped me, hard and deliciously cruel. Today we made our version of sweet love, including a whole lot of nipple pinching and strangling. I feel safe and loved and treasured. It's going to be okay. And at least she'll be home soon. 

Things you do for your health...

I've had an amazing weekend, in all manners of ways. My head is a bit frazzled at the moment, so I'll settle for listing all the things I've done that has been very, very good for my to-high blood pressure. I'm going to the doc to have it re-checked on Tuesday, so this was all very important activities from a health perspective. (That's totally why we did them, I promise...)

1. Meditating on Power Animals and having a lovely visit from an imaginary badger, who promised me that it will all be al right.
2. Talking with my friend I. about important and non-important things and simply enjoying the company. 
3. Relaxing with my head in Mistress lap and being stroked and petted absent-mindedly while surrounded by beautiful human ponies with friends and trainers.
4. Being a pony for Mistress for the first time, with a lovely borrowed bridle and trotting and cantering for her in a paddock.
5. Getting a good whipping with our new riding crop.
6. And finally getting fucked well and good, with everything feeling just perfectly right and as it should be.

No worries

I don't know if me and Mistress has ever been in some sense so far apart from each other as we have been this last month. I've been working working working, and she has too, and we've more or less just passed each other by on our way between different chores. Every night we cuddle up together and fall asleep - but that's not enough, not by a long shot.

And now, when it's been several days, a whole week end, since I handed in my thesis, and Mistress for once hasn't got any pressing deadlines at work, we've still hadn't had sex. I'm not sure it's even been this long for us not having sex.

Well yes it has because the end part of pregnancy and the time after delivery weren't not all that sexy, but that was different. And also, we did have sex something like two weeks before delivery and three weeks after, so it was really a minimum of abstaining, considering the circumstances. Now it's like it's the same thing, only it's not a baby, it's a university graduation.

The amazing thing, though, is the lack of angst we're having over it. It's like I can for once completely put it down to limitations in time and energy, and I feel confident that it's neither anything to do with lack of love, or something that is going to last forever. Give us a couple of weeks of reasonable amount of work and some time spent together just the two of us, and I bet we'll be at it like rabbits again...

I'm looking forward to this summer so much that I can almost taste it. 

Not a bad Sunday

We had a shaky start this morning, little S woke up with an eye infection which meant that our afternoon of babyfree time was threatened. Luckily it turned out that grandma was fine with hanging out with a little red eyed monster, but before we knew that the idea of another weekend comprised entirely of watching kid and working made the mood a little bleak.

I pick up on Mistress mood so goddamn strong and quick. Especially when I'm in the state I'm in now, overworked and overstressed and generally out of sorts. Her grumpiness gives me angst, and this morning I simply gave some excuse after breakfast and shut myself in the bedroom, curled up under the covers and tried to concentrate on counting my breaths and waiting for the panic to abate. It's a really unpleasant feeling, even though it helps knowing that it's not dangerous and that there's nothing really wrong except for me being to tired.

We had a nice outing before lunch, looking for a pair of joggers for little S. Unfortunately she's in a stage right now when she's realised that she's a girl, caught on to the idea that girls should have pink glitter on everything (not shared by either of her moms) and refusing every one of the sensible, multicoloured, good-for-running shoes we picked out. We, on the other hand, absolutely refused the glittery pink sandals she voted for. We'll give it another try tomorrow - some store somewhere must have realised that it's a good idea to make sensible, strong, practical shoes for three-year-olds and then colour them pink and put a lot of glitter on them. I would, if I made kids' shoes.

And then, finally, Mistress took little S on her bike to grandma, and when she returned we had coffee and ice cream on the patio, and it was warm and sunny for the first time this year, and afterwards we just went and layed down in bed together. And fell asleep. I think we were tired.

Mistress woke me up after a bit, and had decided that I would stay where I was, while she went to work at the computer beside the bed. She tied me up securely on my side, and left me there, to rest and slumber and wait for her. It was wonderful. I slept so good, and every time I drifted awake again I could feel the rope against me, knowing that there were nowhere else for me to be, and hearing her clattering on the computer. I was laying in a sun spot on the bed and it all felt so very very luxurious.

And then she got her strap on and fucked me silly 'til we both came.

All in all, a very good Sunday. And next week Mistress' deadline will have past and she'll get back to a more reasonable working schedule instead of the crazy one she's had for the last week. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to that.

 

Being tied up for over and hour gave me very pretty rope marks too. There's some spots there I even think will bruise and stay for awhile. It's like jewellery, in a way. 

Weekend fun

We actually did get it on that day last weekend. It went something like "oh well, I might as well tie you up a little" and developed into "and then have you whittle a perfect piece of ginger and put it in your ass and smack you around a little, and oh, by the way, carve my initials and a big heart in your back. While I'm at it, kind of thing."

So yeah. Fun was had.

Fun was had this weekend too, mostly yesterday which was Mistress' birthday. Little S was at my mothers for the day, and we went to a friends house for some table top role playing, which was great fun. But before that Mistress decided that since it was her birthday, there would be a birthday spanking. Administrated by her at me. By every implement I have ever given her on her birthday.

After 43+1 (to grow on, obviously) whacks with the big walking stick and 43+1 with the flogger, I somehow got a compulsion to tell her that in fact I also gave her the small rattan on a birthday. Because... I'm stupid? Terminally honest? Brainwashed?

And then she fucked me, and that was pretty much a perfect birthday.

Also, I coloured her hair black. It looks great.

Snow day

There was a lot of snow this morning, and Mistress decided to work from home. She goes by bus for 1,5 hours to work, and that road is treacherous, so this time of year sometimes she opts for not going. I was scheduled to sit at home all day writing on things for our thesis, and so we had company. She sat at the workplace and I in the bed beside her, and we actually worked quietly for hours. And then we had an hour long lunch break, during which we managed to squeeze all sorts of things. I cut Mistress' hair, and we had lunch, and then she spanked me with her belt for the first time for what feels like ages but isn't more than ten days or so, and fucked me. And then I made her a latte and we went back to work.

But honestly, she whipped me all red and fucked me to orgasm in less than fifteen minutes. We don't do speed dating, we do speed BDSM-sessions. I'm not sure what kind of skill this is - the most S/M-play in the least time? Is there competitions for this? Because we would have a good shot at winning!

Now she's picking up little S from pre-school, and I'm supposed to finish my school work so I'll get on that. I don't want her to start competing in "most punishment in shortest amount of time" either. I bet those don't end with an orgasm.

Problem solved

But when there weren't anything good on at nine o'clock, I jokingly said "well, then you'll just have to tie me up and beat me" and she said "Yeah, I guess you're right." That kind of threw me. So she walked the dog and told me to use the bathroom and shut down the laptop in the meantime, and when she got back, she tied me down at the bed, and beat my ass with the tawse.

Really really hard.

Afterwards she rearranged the ropes to have me on my back, and while she did it I commented flippantly about a rope that wasn't secured around my ancle. Something in my tone of voice or choice of words made her draw the conclusion that I wasn't properly submissive yet, "only because I haven't beaten you enough" she said and something in her voice and demeanour made me really really scared.

I apologised over and over, but that didn't help. In the end she made me lay still while she whacked me really hard, between my legs and on each of my breasts, and then on the left side of my face. She demanded that I was perfectly still and looking at her for each of the strokes, and when it was over, I was not only sincerely regretful but also very very meek and submissive.

The she left me there for a while, with an order to first count to a thousand, and then start touching myself. I was allowed to come if I said "I'm you're slut!" loudly while doing it, but I never got that far before she came back and started fucking me with her hand instead.

So yeah. I'm not complaining any more. At least not about not being beaten enough.

A nice evening in

Bliss!

If I was a smoker I'd be having a cigarette by now.

We watched the first episode of True Blood season two, with cheese doodles and beer, and when Sookie and Bill started getting it on, her hand moved to my breast and begun to fondle it. When the show was over, we went in to the bedroom, and she ordered me on to the bed. She tied me down, feet together and arms spread wide apart, and secured the ropes in the bed.

And then she proceeded to beat me, hard, with the leather tawse. It was really difficult to relax, and I couldn't stop squirming until I started to really focus on the pain, on every stroke. By then she had one of her feet on the small of my back, pushing me down, and a rope around my neck, holding it tight. I was bound, pushed, strangled and beaten, and could finally drift away into the sensations. I know my breathing slows then, and my pulse too. She said she had to check on me now and then, to see that I was okay, but I didn't notice that. I just was, existed.

When she was done, she told me that for once she hadn't kept going until I started to bleed, but instead had kept going even though I was bleeding. That idea made me inexplicably happy. I hesitantly told her (or more whispered in to the pillows) that I would like to stay were I was for a while, and that I had this idea in my head that maybe she would go and do something else. I guess I pictured her going in to the other room and look up porn on the computer or something. Instead she said yes, she would leave me - and go walk the dog.

Which she did. I stayed, obviously, feeling completely at ease and safe on the one hand, and longing for her to come back on the other. She came back, not long after, slowly untied me and then we cuddled, kissed and eventually fucked until I saw stars flying around in the room.

Now I'm really really tired and looking forward to crawling in to bed with the one I love most in the whole world.

Sickness and sex

And now I have a cold and a fever and bleeeh. I wanted to go to the dojo today, I've taken up ju-jutsu classes again together with a friend, and it's a lot of fun. But no, not with a fever.

And this is not like I had all spring, with a slight fever and dizziness and nausea - that was stress, and now when I know what it is, I've realised exercise actually helps and makes me feel better when I experience those symptoms. Unfortunately this is virus and exercise will only make it worse. Not to mention that I'm tired and off my game and would most likely spread snot and virus all over everyone else. And also, Mistress said I couldn't go.

The good thing is that I'm not feeling guilty. Or panicky. Or secretly relieved that I have a legitimate excuse to lessen my workload for a few days. Or ashamed of feeling relieved. I used to feel all of that, and some confusion and some more shame on top of that, every time I got sick, my whole life. Now I realise it was because the stressors of everyday life was too much for me to begin with, I was constantly pushed beyond what I could handle, and had constant angst because of that. That made being physically, noticeably sick a very mixed experience, riddled with shame and guilt.

Now, possibly for the first time since early childhood, the demands put on me is not more than I can handle, and I'm not full of guilt about the things I can and cannot do. And then a cold is simply a small annoyance, irritating but not something to fret about. Suddenly I realise how most people have it all the time.

I cancelled my appointment with a client tomorrow morning, it doesn't seem very professional to sneeze all over her. And also, I didn't want to go there. I wanted to be at home and nurse my cold and rest and feel better, and so I'll do that. Without angst. I'll most probably go to the seminar in the afternoon (if I don't feel a lot worse) and to a lecture Wednesday morning, because both of those is mandatory to the point of me having to do them next semester if I miss it, so it might be worth it to attend. But that's it. I don't have anything else mandatory this week, and I'm so glad it doesn't seem like the world is ending because I have a cold.

If little S gets it and can't go to pre-school, now that's another matter. Or if little S gets and and Mistress does, at the same time. Then I don't know what we're going to do - suffer, I guess. But for now, it's just me, and to be honest, I don't do much at home at this point anyway. Laying in my bed snuffling is not much different from laying in my bed not snuffling.

If I'd been feeling fine we might have had a lot of nice sadistic sex today, though. That would have been a more interesting blog topic. But obviously me with a head ache and a congested nose is not a turn on for Mistress, and there was only snuggling and conversations.

Saturday, though, was a different matter - I had done the packing for once, including the packing fo the toys, and Mistress got inspired. I found myself blindfolded, gagged and with taped wrists, and she beat me at all manner of places before she let me satisfy and eventually fucked me with her hand. I love being gagged and blindfolded - it takes away every impulse of action, and leaves nothing but sensation and trepidation. Oh, and I love Mistress. Especially in her leather pants. 

Beatings and fucking - the good stuff!

She beat me again and fucked me yesterday. I wasn't very receptive in the beginning, I honestly think it's the meds messing with my sex drive. She told me to lay on my stomach with a pillow shoved under me, and beat me with the tawse. I couldn't really lie still, and it wasn't nice, only hurtful. And then she said "I want you to stay her, and touch yourself. I'm going away for a while, and when I come back, I'll beat you some more." And then she left, and there I was.

It was wonderful, actually. It gave me time to think and relax and get into the mood, and when she came back a while later, it was easier for me. I was still not aroused, really, but more relaxed. And then suddenly, I thought that it didn't matter if I was turned on or not, that she didn't care, that my only job was to lay there. And that thought alone made it all loosen up, my lust returned, and I was suddenly all for it.

She went away for another while, with the same order, and when she returned, I was really really wet and longing for her. She beat me again, and ended with 30 really really hard ones. Afterwards she told me that she had been aiming for making me bleed again, and when she had succeeded, she finished it off with those last heavy strokes. Sometimes I'm pretty sure she's a sadist...

And afterwards she fucked me from behind until she came, and then allowed me to turn over and kept fucking me 'til I came too. And we were spent and close and happy.

Today I have some real soreness in one of my butt cheeks. I love it!

The power of the power

One of the good things with being owned and not really have a say about sexual activities? It doesn't matter that the meds make my sexdrive go down. It doesn't matter if the depression makes me think noone would want me anyway, or that the fatigue makes taking any kind of initiative a dfficult task. It doesn't matter. Because it's not up to me anyway.

She takes me when she wants to, when she feels like it, and if nothing else this has once and for all showen me that no, our sexlife is not up to me. I can't ruin it. I can't fail at being interesting or sexy or engaging. Even in my most withdrawn state, she has sex with me if she wants to.

And the mere fact that she does as she likes, that it's out of my hands, that I don't have the right or the authority to decide whether I'm going to be fucked or not, makes me hot. My body always wants to be taken by her, no matter what my head is up to. I always surrender, and I always want it.

Isn't that amazing?

Making me bleed

The day before yesterday, when little S had gone to sleep, I was out in the kitchen sewing. Mistress came out to me, and told me to finish what I was doing, and then report to her. I finished that part of my project and went to the bedroom. She was laying on the bed reading, and when I stepped in, she told me to undress and get down on the bed.

The thing is, written like this, it sound so somber, so dangerous, stern. In actualitie, it's not. It's warm and cute and full of laughter. There's no doubt that she's the boss and that I will obey her, and that is easy to convey in writing. The underlaying love and humor and general warmth is harder to get through. But it's there, always.

She told me that she was going to give me a hundred strokes with the rattan, in segments of 25; the first ones easy, and then harder and harder. And then, if she felt like it, she would just continue to beat me. "But I think I'll have to restrain you first" she said, and I answered "Yes please Mistress!". It's so much easier and less scary to be beaten when I'm bound up, especially if it's hard.

And when I was laying naked and chained to the bed, she proceeded to beat me on the ass with the rattan, and I breathed in to the pillow and tried not to move. At the end the strokes came hard and fast, and eventually she switched to the smaller rattan and just kept on hitting. By then I was gone, floating on the pain, having no desire for it to ever stop. And then, after a particular stroke, she said "Finally!", and put down the rattan. She turned me around and fucked me until we both came.

Afterwards, on her arm, I asked what the "Finally!" had been all about. "Well" she answered "I wanted to make you bleed, so I beat you until you did. I took awhile, though, and I wanted to do other stuff too." I nodded, and sighed happily.

There's something in her very calculated, deliberat way of handling me that just makes my heart melt. A true romantic!

Good weekend - egg and all

Yesterday, I fell asleep in her arms at the couch in front of the tv. Sweden was on the way to winning the Eurovision Song Contest, but we didn't stay up to see the result. She took me to bed, instead, and we found out about the victory in the morning.

I was tired enough to fall asleep because she had just fucked me, intensely, on the spare mattress in the living room, somewhere between Italy and Moldavias songs, or something. I have very vague recollections of the contest. I have very clear recollections of her body on top of mine, her hands around my throat, ordering me to come for her.

She had put in an egg inside me when the show started, something we haven't done for years. I was ordered the other day to go through our toys and throw out anything made of latex, and everything we kept I unceremoniously put in a bag and brought with us to her parents, were we're staying for the weekend. A lot of the things has been laying in the back of the wardrobe in our bedroom were we keep all kinky things, and not been used since... well, since pregnancy, I guess. And she's three in August, so awhile ago.

Turns out we had three remote control devices, one egg and one staff, and an egg with a cord to the control. And they all worked, after getting new batteries. She tried the remote controlled egg out on me during little S's naptime, and I think the two orgasms it generated encouraged further use. It's one of those things we've been talking about, fantasizing about, but not gotten around to try, and I love that it worked so well. It turned me into a horny, blissfull, cuddly mess, and I think that was about the effect she was aiming for.

What I'm really trying to say is that yesterday was a great day. Actually, Friday was a great day too, ending with us going to the movies and seeing The Avengers, and since we're huge Joss Whedon-fans and superhero-nerds, that was such a treat. I was bubbly all over going to bed, and in the morning she had sex with me. And then again at naptime , and again at night. No wonder I fell asleep on the couch.

It wasn't really a plan to be superhappy and get laid all the time when I decided to stop bickering and simply shut up and do as she says. It was definitely more of a really really nice surprise.

It would be stupid of me to expect this kind of sexfilled bliss to continue (it's already abated a bit, today I've been hungover and we've mostly worked outside clearing PILs yard from junk), but it was really neat anyway. And I'm so glad it feels like I've gotten myself together again, and started behaving as she wants me to. I'll keep it up, and see if this summer wont be about a thousand times better than the last two (of which the first consisted of a big NO SLEEP-experience, and the other meant we had no bathroom in our apartment and had to live alternately at our parents houses...). This one gotta be better!

Besides having a sexlife that resembles what it was like when we first got together, my life is rather full anyway right now. Two exams next week, before the end of the semester, one in cognitive behaviour therapy, and the other in non-parametric statistics. The therapy one I hope to pass by some combination of intuition, good luck and benevolent course leaders, and so I concentrate my efforts on the statistics one. Which I don't know how I am supposed to pass at all. Magic, perhaps?

I now have thirty minutes to study before it's time to help put little S to bed. Chi-two, here I come!

Edinburgh!

Being without Mistress for two days makes me realise, for the gazillionth time, how much I depend on her. How I miss her when she's gone. Her being away makes my world slightly off kilter, as if everything could begin rolling away as on a sloping floor at any time. It's just wrong.

Especially at bedtimes. It's kind of sad, and very symbolic of our current parenting-centered life, that the highlight of each day is cuddling up together in our bed, going to sleep. Putting on my own dog collar, cuddling a mere stuffed toy, is not an ok substitute.

But then I did something incredibly brave. Brave, because I was deadly afraid of doing it, and did it anyway. I flew from our town in Sweden to Edinburgh, Scotland, all by myself, with a transfer at Heathrow. I left home for the bus in to town by 8.30, and then followed train to the airport, airplane to Heathrow, airplane to Edinburgh and finally bus to meet Mistress in City Centre. We met in a very cold and rainy street surrounded by construction sites at around 17.30 local time, which ment 18.30 for my internal clock. It was a long, long day.

I mean, apart for me worrying about stuff, running around in circles, and hurrying through everything everywhere for fear of being late, ending up sitting at airport gates waiting forever to board the plane, everything went fine. I got through every security check, including having my photo taken at two different locations at Heathrow, having my bag swiped for explosives, getting frisked after beeping in the metal detector (even though I've taken off not only my belt but also my shoes), and showing my passport no less than four times total at the Swedish airport.

At none of those checks was I declared a terrorist. Which is reasonable, because I'm not, but I'm thinking that the more checks you do, the higher the risk for a false positive - if you do enough checks, eventually everyone will be busted for something, by chance or technical malfunction, purely for statistical reasons. 

Actually, the only trouble that directly concerned me (there was a man who fell ill because of low blood pressure on the flight to Heathrow, but he quickly recovered) happened after landing. Mistress' phone didn't receive my texts, so when I arrived at City Centre, she wasn't waiting for me, and instead I ended up in the drizzling rain, hiding out in a roofed doorway without a cap or an umbrella, while we tried to connect and find each other. But the mere fact that we were on the same soil, that there weren't any oceans or hundreds of miles between us, made me calm. I knew she would come, I knew she would find me in this strange, rainy city, and she did.

We went to her hotel, checked me in, had a hot shower, and eventually simply went downstairs and ate what the receptionist found in their freezer (we think). I had a lovely chicken tikka masala, Mistress had spinach cannelloni, and we got complimentary garlic bread. Then we went upstairs, crawled in to bed, tried to watch a stupid movie on the flat screen tv (it is a flat screen. It is also very narrow, and short. One might simply call it petite all around...), and fell asleep.

But in the morning we woke up to a whole new day, and the slow morning cuddle turned in to her fucking me, until we've orgasmed twice and lay panting on the bed. It was so so good to be together again. I can barely stand it when we're apart.

She's working now, holding a lecture at the conference she's attending, but when she's done we'll go out for lunch. I've been shopping in the morning and had my third shower since I arrived. It's freezing outside, the hotel hasn't got double glazed windows, and everything is damp. Showers are a good way to get warm after being chilled.

I'm in love with the city of Edinburgh. I'm starting to think that one of my life goals is to move here, sometime, even for only a short period. I've visited Scotland three times, and every time when the plane descend at the airport, it is the same feeling - of coming home. I can't explain it, but I do feel it, and somehow I love that there is more than one place on earth that can give me that feeling. Even if the other one is a rainy peninsula that I've only ever visited for short periods as a tourist. 

Beaten

On another note, my mom babysat today, taking care of little S a few hours before lunch, and we had some precious alone time. At first, we simply talked and cuddled, and then I had this vision in my head of being tied up and ruthlessly beaten.

She liked the idea, and made it come true, with the added bonus of her fucking me from behind afterwards, tied to the bed with all limbs except for my right arm, which she let free so that I could touch myself and orgasm on her request while she fucked me.

It really was a sever beating, both harder than usual and with almost no warm-up. Now my ass is still a little red and quite sore, and my soul is all tender and loving. I'm longing for tonight, when little S is asleep, and she can hold me tight again.

The luxury of working from home with kid at pre-school

Mistress worked from home today, and even though she more or less locked herself in our bedroom/office (actually, not the best combination of space, but the best we've been able to come up with) already at 7.15 this morning, when I came home around two she closed her computer and started the weekend. She'd declared that this morning already, that she planned to spend an hour with me before it was time to pick up little S at pre-school, and it made me feel so good - cared for, excited, like I was promised a big treat.

And it was a big treat. Time for just us, time to be together, time to enjoy each other, sure that nothing would disturb us - that's luxury. That's the absolut best thing in the world, for me.

She even asked me what her slut was yearning for, what I wanted most of all. And I realised that my answer was perfectly truthful - "to be used in any way Mistress desires". That's not coming from any kind of altruistic place, I'm not trying to please her or hiding anything. On her request I could come up with a hundred juicy scenarios of things she might do to me - but if she asks me what I truly want, it's as simple as being of pleasure to her. Her answer was "then I think I'll fuck you. That's what I want the most."

And she did. At first, though, we undressed, and she chained me to the bed in leather handcuffs. The moment the snap hook closes and I now I wont be able to reach anything to get loose, there's like a sigh going through my whole body. I'm completely relaxed, I simply surrender, and I'm never happier then that.

She stroked me and caressed me, then spanked me a little, and eventually she probed my ass with a buttplug. We do have a buttplug problem, though, because I've developed an allergy to latex, and all our plugs is made of it. She tried it, but I had to admit to it stinging in the wrong way, and eventually she focused her attention on other things, and started fucking me for real.

Something about the whole thing, being caressed, being tied down, having time on our hands, her using the plug on me - it drove away my usual inhibitions. After a while, I was about to start begging her to take me in the ass, and she shortly coaxed the plead out of me. After she'd demanded an orgasm from me, she ordered me to turn over, and did take me from behind. It was a long time ago, at least it felt like it, and it was wonderful. Hurtful, but wonderful. There's equal parts indulgence and shame in it for me, I love it and I'm deeply embarrased about loving it, and also, it hurts alot. Afterwards, I was somehow drained, feeling smaller and more vulnerable than I've done for a long time.

And that's ok, because we cuddled some more, took a shower, and later on, she went to pick up little S, and I'm allowed to simply stay put, taking it easy and regaining my composure. That was a long time ago too - to have the time to put me deep into subspace, doing things that affect me strongly, and me having the time to recuperate.

I'm feeling so very blessed today. Soon, my family is back home, we're going to eat tacos in front of the teve, and everything is fine.

(I'm still having the fever, though. The doc said nothing dangerous, probably virus, it will pass. Hopefully, he's right.)

(We've thrown away the plugs. No point in having toys if they're dangerous to play with. I'm hoping for a glass or metal one instead, but she might prefer silicon. I guess I'll find out.)

Birch

We had a wonderful Easter vacation at my in-laws cabin by the Baltic Sea in the north of Sweden. Cold, sunny days, beatiful full moon, all kinds of birds, a lot of outdoor work, and most importantly - evening, nights and mornings baby free, in our very own little miniature-cabin by the water's edge. It's really small, there's really only room for our narrow sofa bed, and a bureau with an electric kettle on, but it's ours, and we can have some privacy.

At the Easter Sunday* we made good use of this privacy, and my Owner used the birch on me. It was officially taken in as Easter decorations, and I even put some feathers in it, but these were later removed, and I tied it properly, and more for my sake than for hers, took away any twigs that were too pointy and all over the place. Eventually we had a very nice looking, traditional birch.

The carefully constructed instrument of traditional torture


The thing is, I discovered my masochistic nature around five years old, and as a young adult I also discovered internet. Which led to a lot of pornographic web surfing, at that time mostly centered on spanking. Birch featured heavily in these novels (mostly) and pictures (some). Even though that was some ten years ago, I still have very vivid images in my head about how it should be; look like, feel, and so on.

My Mistress discovered she was a sadist by hooking up with me and realising how very satisfactory it was to finally being able to slap me in the face when I mouthed off to her, after something like six years of close friendship. Her pornographic history differs from mine.

So while I was happily busy perfecting the intstrument of torture, I think she mostly smiled at my happiness, and went and did other things.

And then she had me on the bed, bare assed, and started to hit me, and I yelped and couldn't lie still, and it was very very painful. In the end, because she likes it when it's possible for me to relax in to it, she had to use it so gently at my skin that it was hardly even hitting me. When I was warmed up, she could use real strokes wothout me levitating to the ceiling, but afterwards she claimed to be bored by then, and losing interest.

*sigh*

Either she'll choose to use something else for warm up, or she'll simply tie me down and have at it anyway. Or, the saddest part, it was a bust and I'll have to take all my carefully perfected dreams about traditional Swedish corporal punishment and fold them away again in a drawer. It was, however, fun while it lasted.

Afterwards, we removed the string and throw the twigs out through the window, in the bushes. Good thing with living in the wilderness for a while!

(*Swedes have strange tradition (I should know, I am one). Almost every holiday is celebrated properly the day before the actual day... We celebrate Christmas Eve, while Christmas Day is a slacker day without much happening except eating left overs. The same with Easter - the big family get-together was Easter Eve, the day before Easter Sunday. For some reason, we apparantely celebrate that Christ is safely in the ground and will arise shortly...)

The taming of the... horse?

One big thing that confused me and upset me in the beginning was the sex. She didn't want me, I thought. Whenever I tried something to please her and show her I loved her, I was met with empty stares, or her shrugging me off. When I got upset by the rejection, she got defensive and angry. And I didn't get it. I mean, I did everything right. Exactly as he taught me.

Yeah.

It took me a while to figure that one out, which is a bit embarrassing. But I got it, after a long while. The details I got pretty fast, I quickly stopped doing most of the things that annoyed her. But I didn't really got the big picture for maybe a year or so (I said it was embarrassing...)


I thought she destroyed me, spoiled me in the worst meaning of the word. That she taught me how to do things differently, and in the process made me worse, less desirable, less valued. She didn't want the things he had taught me made me loved and valuable, she made me not do them, and all I could see was that she would eventually stop value me and stop love me and get rid of me. So I resisted, as much as I could.

Until I finally got it.

I finally got that what she was teaching me was how to be good for her, how to do things the way she wanted them done. It was harder to get, I think in my own defence, because a lot of what she wanted was for me not to do things. To be still. To be receptive. To listen and follow. To take what she gave, without resistance. To let her set the pace, let her decide, ler her initiate things, and follow her lead. To do that, I had to dare let go and stop doing stuff, and it took some courage, actually.

An analogy that I've come to think of is of me as a horse. A fine, well-trained horse. With my boyfriend, he kept me as a racing horse. Full of force, speed, nerves. Constantly on tip-toe, constantly moving and trying to break free, running in any direction. He liked that, he liked that his job was to point me in a direction and let me run. He, I think, liked the drama. Even if it also meant that the horse in question would rear, and sometimes run into things.

Racehorse

And when Mistress took over, she didn't want the horse to be a racing horse anymore. She wanted it to be a dressage horse. As fine, as well trained, as powerful. But with a quiet grace and calm and all that power well collected and under minute control. But to make a racing horse in to a dressage horse, you first must make it stop running around prancing...

Dressage

I don't know if it's a good analogy, but it works for me. It explains that confused helpless feeling I got when I realised all that stuff I did, things I thought required of me, wasn't wanted and I had to stop doing them. What good is a slow, untrained race horse? It's dog food. It took me a while to realise Mistress wasn't throwing my talent away because she didn't want me - she simply wanted me to excel at other things.

Nowadays, I lay perfectly still when she beats me. Or well, no I don't, but I try, and I know that's what she wants from me. She doesn't want visual or oral evidence of how she's hurting me, she wants me to be still and accept it. So I do. And I very rarely initiate sex, and if I do it's with great care and low expectations, because I know I please her more that way. She don't mind me being horny and wanting her, but she doesn't expect it from me all the time, and she do want me not to push it. So I don't. And so on and so forth.