Saturday, June 24, 2006

There're no bugs in Fantasy Land...

I suppose it started with the tent. We helped organize and run a big outdoor party, and my Master, crafty-type that he is, built us the tent.
All those big iron spikes he drove into the ground must have caught his imagination.

So here I am. Back of the cottage, more or less totally alone in the entire surrounding countryside. Well out of range of the comforting yellow rectangles of light I could see if I could turn my head. I know my Master is somewhere around me, I can here him but I can't see. Each limb is tied to a stake stuck into the ground, placed farther apart than I would have believed. I am naked, stretched more or less to the limit, my back held in an arch against the ground, my fists clenched.

The grass tickles.

And He walks into my field of vission. He is silhoutted by the moon, impossibly tall, impossibly strong, impossible. He is holding something behind His back.
A singletail. A 7 foot long bullwhip, black from handle to tip, so well oiled the leather shimmers in the light. He cracks it inches from my face, and I know without Him telling me what it is about. He is punishing me. A million little failings come to mind -- failure to shine His boots properly, failure to stand still when He told me, failure to be silent when He teased me. For months he Has purred into my ear each time, voice full of increadible menace: "I'll punish you later, Pet."

And now, He is. He cracks the whip above me again, then brings it down upon my breasts, just the tip, stinging against my nipple. My breath comes short and I writhe, in pleasure or away, I'm not sure. My skin breaks out in goosepimples, my nipples hard. He pulls the whip across my skin, and as I quiver he says "You shine in the moonlight, Pet." He cracks the whip again.

For a few minutes He hits me on the nipples with the hempbraid end of the whip, till I arch into it, afraid each time that He will hit me harder, but unable to stop my body wanting the touch. Suddenly the whip is brought up high, and I try to shrink into the ground to avoid it. My Master brings it down all at once -- and cracks it harmlessly over my head. I jump anyhow.

I look up to see my master stripping His tight black t-shirt from His body. I am too mesmerized by the moon on His clavicals to realize that His boots and pants have followed, till suddenly He kneels above me, offering or forcing or asking or commanding that I suck His cock. Ever the obedient pet, I slip my lips around the head and flick my tongue against the triangle under the head of His cock, quite the senitive spot. My Master's breathing becomes somewhat impaired, probably because I am sucking the rest of His cock into my mouth, swiveling my head and running my tongue back and forth beneath the shaft. I relax my throat and move my head upward, pushing until my lips touch the hair by His stomach, squeezingg my throat open and shut around the head of His cock. I chocke a little, and pull back, but my Master pulls out of my mouth and grabs hair, bringing my head up for a fierce kiss. Our teetch clack. It's that fierce.

He bites my earlobe, and the place where my neck meets my shoulder. Hard. Possesively. He lays kisses and bites all down my breasts and stomach, as if He is marking His ownership of me. He moves his mouth to my pussy, sucking my clitoris, licking and teasing till I try to grind my pelvis into His face, approaching orgasm.
Of course. Of course He pulls away, moves up and kisses me hard again and I can smell myself on His lips and chin, and then suddenly I feel the head of His cock pushing against my vulva, and I want it so so, bad. I want to feel Him inside of me more than anything. Of course. Of course He teases me, pushing that hard head in just a little, pulling it out again, a little bit, a little bit, till I'm squirming against Him as much as I can, trying to pull the stakes out of the ground to get at Him. Then all at once He pushes into me, and it's hot and sublime and I push back towards him. He pulls away again and then enters me again, pausing for a moment. I tense my vaginal muscles around Him and he gasps and pushes further into me, pulling in and out of the tightness, and we rock together, and we speed up, and I realize that I'm moaning and that I'm getting louder, but hell, so is He, and suddenly I'm begging my Master to let me come. Of course. He stops. I nearly die.
But then he thrusts back into me and growls into my ear "Come for me, Pet", and that's all I need, I push back once more onto His hard cock and I'm gone. He follows, with and oath and and obscenity, and lowers himself onto me, kissing my mouth and neck and face. He says "That was wonderful, Pet"
It's lovely. It's heavenly.

He slides gently out of me, kisses me one more time, and stands up. And walks away.

And I'm getting slightly chilly, out here in the open air. The grass tickles, but the stars are nice.

I wonder if He's coming back anytime soon.

PS, Over 400 site hits, woohoo!

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

My Mistress, my lover, my girlfriend, and my Pet... she's worried. Worried about our relationship. Worried that someone else might take her place - any of her places - in my life. Worried because she doesn't believe I love her. I think her worries are silly, but I can see where she's coming from. The thing is, no one could really replace any one part of what she is to me, let alone all of her. I wish she were here so I could show her... I've realized recently that I write very little, and grow more and more out of practice with it every year. But that's another story. The issue is more that I've gotten used to showing my partner how I feel, and what I want to do to her, and what I love about her, and not so used to talking about it. We're picking rope colors together, figuring out what flowers to give to each other to signify dominance or submission, and joining our local fetish group. I'm building a new bed for my room with her in mind, and she fucked me senseless the last time I saw her. She also has promised me thirty lashes, and more if I don't write about that time, but that's another entry entirely. We're doing so much together, and it's wonderful, and there's no one else who I could imagine doing any of it with. That's all I really wanted to say, and so for now the sappiness can end and we'll continue to talk of fantasies and secrets and what we'll do to the other when we next get the chance to see each other.

Sunday, June 18, 2006

I Want a Scene

I just got off work. A short day today, just nine and half hours. Only it was even busier than last night, and it was 95 degrees outside, and my supervisor type person (the cook I work with and under, directly) was curt and had a habit of getting me to do things better, and by better I mean take apart orders I was about to send out and do them all over again, not actually better, but His Way.
I am tired. I am worried about my relationship. I am walking home 5 or 6 or 7 blocks each night, at 12:00 or 1:00 or 1:30 am, in the city where occasionally, at 7:00 pm in broad day light you get jerked off next to in the Park.
I am worried about my relationship. That bears saying twice.
Mostly, all of this, especially the worried-about-relationship bit (even if it does bear saying twice) is due to PMS. None of it would build up in me so if my hormones weren't in a mood to freak out over spilled milk. I held it together through five hours of service, doing more work than either of the previous two days. Now, I'm freakin' out.
And I looked over, and saw the choke chain that I wear around my wrist, and I thought,Oh, God, I want to sub.
I want to be owned and taken care of and made to feel good. I want to be possessed and wanted and did I say taken care of because that bit's really important. I want to be tied up and tied down and I want that sort of slow but inexorable, sensual torture. I want it.
And I can't have it. Not now. Not soon. Maybe not for a long, long time. Boy is busy, and distracted, and I don't know if he'll visit me again this summer, and when I visit him he'll be working alot, he'll be tired, I'll be topping.
And by that time it won't matter so much.
My Boy and I, we are in an open relationship. In three or four days, when my brain chemistry's right again, I won't care so much about the fact that he may well be hookin' up with another lady all summer. (He says he probably won't, so we'll see). Only, I know she's into the Scene. And that's harder to let go of than anything else.
I may be his only Mistress, but I wonder why. I know she'd feel comfortable taking him, and I'm sure that desire must be strong in him.
But that's not the real trouble. The real trouble is not my Pet allowing himself to be taken by another, because really? He won't. He's a good Pet, and I made it very, very clear to him last time that he is Mine, and if someone else touches him than I won't touch him anymore.
I worry about my Master, the boy who first tied me down, who first beat me, the boy who first showed me how to relax and just come because I had no bloody choice in the matter.
This girl's a sub with boys. She'd sub for him. And then I'm not special anymore, am I? I'm not his Pet, I'm one of his pets. And that is very, very hard.
It feels like it's been forever since he Dommed me, really really Dommed me. He's getting more and more into subbing, and I enjoy that, and I play a good Mistress, but I miss my Master.
I want to be taken care of, to be taken. I want to be on the bottom, I want to give up control.
But even if, when he reads this, he wants nothing more than to do what I want, we're miles apart.
So, this is the sad blog entry.
I'm worried, we're separated, I'm lonely, it's late.

A Quickie

Boy visited.
Two nights. Something on the order of 10 orgasms. We did well.
A quick rundown: Sex that was really good, but not particularly scene-y. Sex that was good, and ended by my giving him head. Niiiice head. I kept him on the brink for a good long while. He begged alot. Like, more than ussual.
The next night we watched The Secretary. Ok movie, interesting. Then we turned it off and I closed my laptop, on which we had been watching it, and suddenly it was just us in a slightly overheated, totally dark room.
We tore eachothers clothes off. We panted and we gasped and we moved against eachother and somewhere in it I started calling him Master and he started calling me Pet, but it wasn't a scene, just what we were. We didn't stop for anything. It was the only time, ever, that we just went to it. Normally we put a specified blanket down over the bed so there's no damp spot, but we didn't stop for that, or for a condom (I'm on the pill, anyway) or for anything. I ripped his clothes off and he ripped my clothes off and I tried to kiss every part of him at once and I bit him and he bit me and then he was inside of me, hot and hard and we moved together, arching and moaning and it was so, so, so good and then we came. Both of us. Together.
I held him on top of me for a long time after that, gasping and amazed. Really quick, really good sex always sort of startles me.
Then? Then I did the nasty things I'd been telling him about all day. For the first time ever I tied my Pet up with rope, beautiful white nylon rope that's only ever been on me before. It was fabulous. I tied his arms behind his back and lay him down, and worked in him with one, then two fingers till he told me he couldn't hold off anylonger (he was wrong). I withdrew my fingers, I entered him with my big red cock. Which was great, and fabulous, but incredibly difficult. You can't fuck a boy while facing him, while holding yourself up, and try to jerk him off at the same time. Well, you can try. But it won't work. Once I got him to the point where I figured if I didn't let him come soon he'd start being in real pain (that's unintentional pain, right there), I withdrew my cock, let him rest a bit, and then went in again with my fingers, two of them making little circles along his prostate, I wrapped my mouth around his cock and sucked him hard and then kept sucking till he screamed one long, silent scream and came into my mouth. He came for a very long time. Then shuddered, rested a second, and asked to be untied so he could use the bathroom.

Then he came back and gave me quick, fierce head, lapping and licking and moving one finger in and out of me till I bucked against him and bit my lowerlip to keep from screaming.

Then we smoked, and cuddled, and collapsed.

Which is what I'm going to do now.

Monday, June 12, 2006

The City

The city is where I am, today. Where I will be for most of the next few months.
The city is not where my boys is, or where he will be for most of the next few months.
That's less than fun.
But I've a life outside of kink and even outside of him, and it brings me here. So, again, this journal shall turn to my twisted little fantasy and to brief explainations of the gorgeousness of skin on skin, of leather and crop, of restraints.

A few notes on recent activity:
We discovered that there's a serious difference between being tied up, and being stretched to the limit.
I wanted to tie up my Pet. With the restraints, but without rope. On the two by fours near the corners of my full bed, this is a stretch. Actually, it's more than a stretch: with a single set of caribeaners, it's impossible. But with two carribeaners linked together at the wrists, it worked out. Nicely.
And the reactions were simply different. Everything was more exciting, like my touch on him was electric, he loved it.
I thought, I had better do this again.

And then, sometime later, in a different room, he tied me to the bars a bed, stretched out as far as I would go, and I found out what he'd found out. It was so much more real, so much more forbidden. When you're tied but you know you can get out with no trouble at all, that's a game. At this point it's almost nothing. But when you're spread eagled on a bed, when you can struggle but can't shift your weight, when you're stuck and you realize that there is nothing, not even moving six inches to one side, that you can do to prevent your Master from doing whatever he wills...
that's something special.
Electric. A little frightening. Very, very hot.

Also? Man I love fucking that boy in the butt. He loves it. I love it. If it weren't for how much I love him fucking me, I'd do it all the time. It's fabulous. How happy it makes him, how he wriggles, how he's helpless, and how if I angle it just right the pressure of my strapon pushes on my clitoris.
I have plans to get a silver bullet vibe and find a way to attach it to the harness. I want to come with that big red cock inside of him, because he comes so gorgeously hard when I do that, because being a part of it with him would be fabulous.

So, discoveries and plans, and hopefully, since I am in the city, I'll get to write about lots of fun kink events.

Till then, me and my vibrator pretend.