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His..
Posted:Feb 23, 2018 5:06 am
Last Updated:Feb 23, 2018 3:08 pm
566 Views
His...

My life isn’t all good-girl suits and proper heels and manicured nails and being the good little hostess at his company’s dinner parties.

I’m lucky enough to be his depraved little fuck doll every single night. My perfectly manicured nails stroke his cock just the way he likes it, and by the time he’s through with me, my pretty makeup and carefully curled hair will be a complete disarray.

I will be bruised and marked and bitten; pinched and spanked and thoroughly fucked. Sitting will be a special agony tomorrow, and he won’t really care that my jaw will still be sore from tonight’s throat fuck when he wants his morning coffee-and-a-blowjob tomorrow.

But he’ll get it. Because under all my good-girl facade, this is all I want to be.

His.

fireflyflashes~
6 Comments
“Complacent. Compliant. Controlled.”
Posted:Feb 22, 2018 4:52 am
Last Updated:Feb 23, 2018 3:08 pm
1375 Views
“Complacent. Compliant. Controlled.”

“Complacent.” The word rested in the center of her mind, pulling her thoughts toward it like it had a gravitational mass all its own. No matter what she tried to think, it seemed so much easier to proceed along the channel that had been laid out for her. And that led inexorably to another word, “Compliant.” Every time she tried to pull her mind out of the endless groove carved into her mind, she found herself instead thinking of the next word. “Controlled.”

It was such a simple mantra. It was maddeningly simple. “Complacent. Compliant. Controlled.” Her fingers swirled around her clit, rubbing through her panties with a constant, slow, teasing pace, and her mind helplessly moved from one word to the next. “Complacent.” She touched herself and tried to think of anything but– “Compliant.” Her mind circled around and around the thought like her hand circled around her clit. “Controlled.”

She didn’t need to absorb complex programming to be lulled into obedience. All she needed were those three simple words: “Complacent. Compliant. Controlled.” She heard herself saying them, endlessly repeating the loop of brainwashing and masturbating her mind away. “Complacent. Compliant. Controlled.” Her voice was a dull monotone, void of inflection. Void of emotion. Void of thought. She didn’t need those things. She only needed to be “Complacent. Compliant. Controlled.”

She lost track of time; she knew that when she was done programming herself, she would be instructed to stop. And she would accept her instructions because she was “Complacent. Compliant. Controlled.” It was the only thing she wanted to be now. The only thing she could conceive of being. She had long ago stopped trying to make herself cum, she had long ago given up remembering when the loop started or how she was seduced into repeating it. Only three words mattered to her now. “Complacent. Compliant. Controlled.”

She knew they were true. She couldn’t imagine them any other way anymore. She said, “Complacent,” and she knew instantly that she was happy to keep following instructions and edge her wet cunt while she repeated the next word. She said “Compliant,” and she knew that she accepted the will of her programmers easily and effortlessly and unthinkingly. She said, “Controlled,” and she knew that was exactly who she was. It wasn’t a description anymore, it was an identity. She was Complacent. She was Compliant. She was Controlled.

The chain of words wrapped around her mind, each link leading inexorably to the next. “Compliant. Controlled. Complacent.” “Controlled. Complacent. Compliant.” There was no end, there was no beginning, there was simply pleasure and obedience as the groove in her mind became a channel, the channel became a valley, the valley became a chasm. Her self was at the bottom of that chasm, so deep she could no longer see daylight, following it endlessly in circles that spiraled ever deeper into submission. It was all she wanted to be. It was all she ever wanted to be now.

Complacent.

Compliant.

Controlled.

jukeboxemcsa~
3 Comments
Need...
Posted:Feb 22, 2018 12:07 am
Last Updated:Feb 22, 2018 12:22 pm
1498 Views
Need...

As a slave, I try to be very careful with the word need. Do I need it, or do I just want it? The distinction is an important one. My wants are inconsequential. He still wants to hear them, of course. But he can choose to leave them unfulfilled. My needs, on the other hand, are on equal footing with his needs. And they come before his wants. So when I say I need something, that word should carry the weight I intend. I don’t use it lightly.

But sometimes it is hard to know the difference. And sometimes my slave heart keeps me quiet for too long. I deny my needs, and then I become a tangled mess. Giving and giving until I have nothing left. And when I finally collapse in tears, he wonders why I didn’t say something. But here’s the thing: most of the things I need are things that start as wants. For example, I will never turn down a spanking. Spanks make me feel warm and loved and happy. But at some point, “spanks would be nice please” turns into “I’m being slowly buried alive, and only spanks can save me.” The same with orgasms. I’ve gotten better with denial, but I still can’t do it long-term. The trick, for me, is finding that point where the desire for a spanking or orgasm becomes the need for one.

I’m just not good at knowing when a want crosses over to being a need. And if I go too long without, I will sink so low that I don’t even know what I need. Everything feels wrong, and I just want it to not be wrong anymore. I know I should speak up before it gets to that point. It’s just hard, especially when he is overwhelmed and has unmet needs of his own. My impulse is to put service above everything else, even when that hasn’t turned out so well.

And truthfully, I’ve never been good at sharing my needs. Or letting people believe I have them. I choose to withdraw and turn inward. But the beauty and curse of D/s is that I can’t do that. I am not allowed to disconnect or disengage. I am owned property. But the words “I need” feel so decidedly unsubmissive to me. I try not to use them until they feel appropriate and unavoidable. Until I really, really mean it. Maybe this is as it should be. Or maybe I’ve just gotten too good at suppressing my needs. I set the bar so absurdly high that almost nothing qualifies as a need.

I don’t want it to be like that. I want to serve, and part of that is submitting to his will. Completely. Trusting him to fulfill my needs without thinking I’m needy. Still, it would be easier if the line between want and need were a little clearer

cherishedproperty~
3 Comments
My masculinity, her femininity.
Posted:Feb 21, 2018 4:12 am
Last Updated:Feb 21, 2018 11:09 am
2146 Views
My masculinity, her femininity.

I don’t believe there’s anything more beautiful to me than when she is reveling in her femininity, embracing her fragile, womanly nature and becoming dependent on me, letting go and simply submitting to me, a Man who has earned her submission and in turn, given her the freedom to be true to herself.

There is so much beauty to be seen in the way she lets go of all these expectations placed upon her, how she should not need the will or decision of Man yet she lives for mine, My will, my decision and my opinion.

That my word is both her law and her religion.

There’s a heavy element of primal and animalistic natures in how we work as unit and this goes far beyond in terms of a sexual nature, even further beyond her one day carrying my child, I’m talking the day to day life we have, those tiresome moments in life, the moments where we simply lose ourselves and relax over the many conversations we share. We are always aware of who we are and what we are to each other.

We both strongly believe in traditional gender roles, which is also another reason as to why our dynamic works so well, we are both opposite sides to the same coin and without her femininity, my masculinity would be empty and have nothing in which to feed upon, I’d be a hunter without prey.

at-the-feet-of-men~
3 Comments
Being Needy...
Posted:Feb 20, 2018 4:47 am
Last Updated:Feb 20, 2018 8:24 am
2678 Views
Being Needy...

He doesn’t care that I’m a needy little thing…

Or rather, he does, but he doesn’t need to watch to know I’ll follow his rules.

Pets can only sit on the furniture if they are naked, and with permission.
Pets should always when asked, show how wet and eager they are.
Pets can touch, but orgasms are Master’s property, and should always be begged for politely.

And it only makes me hotter, knowing that he already knows what a pathetically wet, eager pet I am. He knows by the little hitch in my voice when my begging really starts to get desperate. He’s not above smacking my fingers away from my soaking wet pussy if he thinks I’m in danger of breaking a rule. Or just because he likes to hear me yelp in surprise. Or adding a few of his fingers in with my own, if he thinks I’m not really trying hard enough to edge.

He’s going to tell me “No.” when the begging really starts in earnest. He’s going to keep telling me “No.” even when I don’t think I can keep from cumming one second longer. And he probably won’t even look away from the article he’s reading; if you ask him about it, I’m sure he’s much more aware of it than he is of me.

Because he knows I’ll follow the rules.

And good little pets know how to wait.

danipup~
2 Comments
~being kind~
Posted:Feb 19, 2018 5:07 am
Last Updated:Feb 22, 2018 5:50 am
5904 Views
~being kind~

be kind. be ridiculously, radically, endlessly kind. be a part of someone’s good day. send nice thoughts, send positive vibes, send support and love and well wishes. be kind. so often we wish for tomorrow to be a good day when we are at our lowest. some sort of sign that it gets better. be a part of that better day for someone. the world does not magically decide that it will be softer on you today, tomorrow, the next day. and sometimes it starts with a message from someone else, maybe a little bit of inner strength to pull yourself up and take a shower, maybe a bit of sunlight makes the day better. but it’s these small things, these soft things that make a day better. so be kind. don’t ever think about being anything other than kind. be a part of someone’s good day because you don’t know how desperate they might be for it.

bobohu~
9 Comments
*Angels*
Posted:Feb 18, 2018 6:56 am
Last Updated:Feb 18, 2018 7:04 pm
7369 Views
*Angels*

3 Comments
~Saturday Vinyl~
Posted:Feb 17, 2018 3:03 pm
Last Updated:Feb 18, 2018 6:19 am
8202 Views
~Saturday Vinyl~

Aimee Mann .........~Save Me~ Magnolia
Grateful Dead..........~Box Of Rain~ American Beauty
Bob Dylan & Johnny Cash ..........~Girl From The North Country~Nashville Skyline
Neil Young...................~Harvest Moon~ Harvest Moon
Fiona Apple.................~Pale September~ Tidal
Otis Redding........~I've Got Dreams To Remember~ The Very Best Of Otis Redding
Aretha Franklin.........~Chain Of Fools~ Lady Soul
4 Comments
Yours...
Posted:Feb 17, 2018 5:22 am
Last Updated:Feb 19, 2018 5:00 am
8516 Views
Yours...

“It’s mine, isn’t it?” he asked as if I could answer when his deft fingers were expertly playing my pussy and the heel of his hand pressed against me, teasing an orgasm just out of my reach.

“I’ll let you come,” he promised, not stopping for the breathless pleas that tumbled from my lips. “All you have to do is say it.”

I moaned, my eyes half closing in pleasure before the relentless tug of his other hand in my hair brought my focus back to his face, those intent eyes inches from mine as pushed me ever closer to the precipice of orgasm.

“Say it,” he insisted. “Say this pretty pussy belongs to me. Say *you* belong to me.” I gasped against his lips, my cries breaking like glass, trying to form words when all I could do was revel in the exquisite torment of his fingers. “Say it, pretty girl, good girl, *my* girl. Say it for me.”

Just when I thought I would succumb to the waterfall of pleasure cascading through me, when I thought I would break and shatter from the pressure, the words were torn from my lips with a guttural scream, “Yours!”

And once freed, I couldn’t stop myself from repeating every filthy promise he asked of me, the words tumbling out over each other in my haste to give him anything, everything, if only he would push me that one millimeter farther, over the edge.

Permission was in his satisfied smile and the tenderness of the kiss he stole while I shook myself to pieces in his arms. Those clever fingers eased from my body, tracing a wet line up my ribcage to paint a film of my own pleasure over my lips for him to taste.

“Sweet,” he murmured in my ear as he held me close, letting me drift back into my body to feel the insistent hardness of his cock against my hip. “And mine. All mine.”

thecreatureofdarkness~
8 Comments
The Wall
Posted:Feb 16, 2018 5:20 am
Last Updated:Feb 17, 2018 7:00 am
9039 Views
The Wall

I can feel him pushing me toward the wall. I do not like this part. The pain gets more intense, and my body is screaming for it to stop. I don’t know how much more I can take. My mind starts to race. Yellow? Is it time for yellow? Maybe he will stop soon. Oh, fuck. He’s hitting me harder now. My hand flies down to cover myself, and I try to correct the behavior before it warrants a punishment. I am crying now, and all I can think about is the pain. I try to squirm away from the blows. Or at least to shift so he hits me in a different spot.

“Relax. Don’t fight it.”

His voice is so stern. But not harsh. Just resolute. Steady. I know if I cannot calm my mind, he will not stop. And yet I feel myself speeding toward the wall, and it is hard not to brace for impact.

“Just breathe.”

Such simple words. But somehow hearing them calms me. I clear my mind and focus on one thought. This is for him. I belong to him, and that is all I need to know. And suddenly, the tension begins to melt away. In my head, I know this means a flood of endorphins. But it feels like more than just a chemical response. It feels like jumping the wall. I had assumed I would hit it at full speed. But at the last possible moment, I find myself flying over it. I begin to enjoy the pain again. Left then right, moving down from my ass to my upper thighs. The rhythm and strength feel comforting. I no longer struggle to keep still. I can take so much more now. And I need more. So much more. I no longer want him to stop.

But he does stop. I am sad at first because I loved the rhythmic swats. But then his hand slips between my legs. I am so wet. It surprises me how close I am to orgasm, when just moments before, I was in such pain. But I have been through this before. I know he’s not going to let me cum. The moment my whimpers signal that I am close, he withdraws his fingers. My ass is hot and throbbing. And I know what comes next.

He picks up something new. A new way to hurt me. A new way for me to give myself to him. Between the break and the new implement, the pain grows quickly. I feel the wall approaching again. I try to focus on my submission and accept the pain. To feel it flowing through me. His gift. I feel so strong for him right now. Even when it hurts, I want more. I want everything he chooses for me. I want to give him everything until I have nothing left. And in return, I know he will make me fly.

“Good girls get the cane.”

Yes, Sir. I am ready.

cherishedproperty~
2 Comments

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