I’m sitting at the top of the stairs, typing on my laptop. I came up here to get away from the distractions downstairs.
Hardcore porn is playing on the big-screen TV in the living room. A nubile blonde sucks some guy’s cock on the video while my Mistress is sucking her Master’s cock while he sits back in one of the Lazy Boy chairs.
Mistress enjoys such videos. I just roll my eyes. Porn bores me for the most part. I’m not saying there isn’t porn out there that I might potentially enjoy, but as a friend told me a long time ago, “What’s the point of watching people having more fun than you’re having?” Although, I admit, since Mistress and her Master are duplicating right now what’s happening on the screen, I guess what my friend said doesn’t really apply here.
The last few days haven’t been overly exciting, at least as far as things worth posting in my blog. We visited the puppyboy again two days ago, and this time I got the chance to climb on top of him after I had sucked him to hardness. He came twice in me, with his cum soaking both of us. I orgasmed twice as well, but they were little ones. *shrugs* I wasn’t really into it that night, so it was no real big deal for me.
I’m sick of fucking guys from the top. That’s what overweight guys all seem to want. The last time I had sex from the bottom was the night I went home with that muscle-built construction worker. Yeah, he was so powerful and huge he stretched me to the point of painfulness. But … wow … was he memorable. And he took me like a woman WANTS to be taken. Mmmmm ….
Yesterday I spent far too much time responding to a new comic posted on Collar6. I got all protective of the main character (a consensual slave named Laura) after it was revealed that her Mistress had slipped an aphrodisiac into Laura’s coffee without her knowledge, and the Mistress and a maid were both laughing about how they were about to have fun with the shy, innocent, tender slave after getting her into a heavy bondage suit and taking her to a harem for wild sex in the basement. The strip has been incredibly sweet and loving in places up to this point, and to see it potentially change like that really bothered me because I identify with Laura in a lot of ways. If you want, you can read my rather convoluted rantings there at: Collar6 - Potentcy - Comments
Last night I went to a session on protocol at The Sanctuary BDSM club in Denver. Besides the two very experienced Masters who presented it, the only people who showed up were me, one of the Master’s slaves, a 24-year-old woman who has been in the BDSM lifestyle for eight years (yes, I’m not kidding … she started when she was 16), and the girl’s boyfriend, who was really the only person there who didn’t already know everything taught in the class. The girl was pretty cool, but I was REALLY envious, because I can barely imagine what it would have been like to have been introduced to all this when I was that young. What’s even more amazing (at least, to me) is that her mom found out about her activities, and in response, her mom invited her to a BDSM play party! Yep … her mom was into the lifestyle as well, and was a long-term die-hard Gorean. Beats having ultra-conservative Southern Baptist parents, like I had.
Speaking of my childhood, somebody wrote me today asking, as background for a story, whether I had always longed to be a slave, and whether it all made sense (like a lightbulb coming on) after I was finally exposed to it. Here was my response:
~~~~~~~~~
I'd love to help! Your questions have me going back in thought on my life. Sometimes, thinking like that brings back unpleasant memories, but in this case, the feelings are quite warm.
A quick overview of my life might be useful. I was raised by two very conservative religious parents in Texas, and, for all intents and purposes, they way they treated me set me up to be a nice, submissive, obedient housewife. I was often as a child publicly humiliated for even simple disobedience, and my mother would pull down my pants and undies in front of other people then discipline me with a switch freshly broken from a tree. Despite all that, they spoiled me as well in many ways regarding household chores, but that was, I believe, because my mother was also extremely subservient, and she would quickly obey everything my father told her to do, and would get all freaky if anything in the house was out of order. And so I was taught to be a perfectly obedient but lazy slave, if that makes sense. *sighs* I've debated with myself for decades the old nature versus nurture debate -- whether I'm slave-hearted and they realized that in their treatment of me, or whether their treatment of me made me that way, but either way what they did certainly helped foster it. I've heard people say that, "All slaves seek their parents at heart," and that may truly be the case.
Because I was so intelligent (at least, in school), my parents decided I would go to college and be an engineer (it was their choice, not mine). I didn't do well, despite my intelligence, and after graduating I felt a longing for something I couldn't quite put my finger on. After struggling to survive on my own, I soon found somebody quite dominant (so much that, while we were still dating, they raided my closet and threw away any "undesired" possessions, and I didn't complain), and we were consequently married for about 17 years.
I can safely say that SecondLife destroyed our marriage, but not because I was addicted to it. Instead, it exposed me to something truly amazing -- the BDSM community. Even more so, it was there I discovered Gor. My spouse considered BDSM to be obscene and would not allow me to explore it, and my Internet usage and social life was largely restricted, so I was very sheltered in many ways and I didn't know there were people who lived in formal "Dominant/submissive" lifestyles, or especially in "Master/slave" ones. A few weeks into SecondLife, however, my submissiveness became clear to the people working in (and visiting) the stripper/escort bar where I worked online (and, yes, I kept my SecondLife activities secret, and would usually only get online after my ex was in bed or not in the house). One of the people there took control of me, and I loved it. She taught me a bit about the idea of being owned, and to me, this was perfectly natural and wonderful, as if finally I had found my calling in life. I think it was only a few days later that I accidentally followed him/her into a Gorean sim and ... the lightbulb that had been turned on by that dominant suddenly flared into an almost blinding intensity. I knew then I had found my home, and before I knew it I was serving naked as a kajira (a Gorean female slave) on the docks of an online city known as Port Cos.
I had to know even more, and I discreetly sought out a real-life Gorean group, and I told my spouse I was going to a meeting with a group of fantasy roleplayers. I was collared by the Master of a local Gorean household and remained a weekend slave for months before I got a little scared of where things were going (I've since learned that Master has a reputation in the community for being a bit too extreme, and I'm not the only person he scares a bit.) I gave up SecondLife and tried to keep the marriage going but ... it didn't work in the long run. I had been given a taste of forbidden fruit of knowledge, and the siren song of the collar continued to play it's irresistible tune in my heart day and night.
In late 2006, when my ex and I were already talking divorce, I returned to SecondLife on a lark, and that proved to me my undoing ... as far as being a free woman goes. I returned to Gor, where I was collared by people who realized my true nature. The dream of being a kajira, existing only to please and serve, grabbed hold of my mind so tightly that I became addicted to SecondLife, living there as much as possible to the great detriment of my real life. I became totally immersed in the online slave culture, and I was soon being courted by men who wanted me to be their slave in real life. That began a journey that resulted in me at one point being a weekend slave in a different Gorean household for about six months, then spending about four months very directly and determinedly seeking somebody who could own me full time. After getting to know dozens of potential Masters (and serving in the households of several of them), I met my Mistress as she sat at the side of her Master and ... the rest is history.
Gaaah! Did I say "quick" overview??? *chuckles* That's what you get for asking a writer a simple question!
And to boil things down ... I believe I've always had a slave heart, but I didn't know it. I longed for being the property of somebody, being owned totally, but I couldn't find words or thoughts to express my desires. If I had known it when I was young, I believe my life would have been a much better, happier one, because I could have pursued the right path for me from the start.
And when I was finally exposed to it after decades of ignorance, it was definitely like a lightbulb going off. I knew that this was the heart of my inner feelings and self identity in so many ways, and once the door was opened, there was no closing it ever again.
~~~~~~~~~
After last night’s class, I went home with Master G (who was one of the presenters), and we talked and touched tenderly for a long time. I care for him deeply, and he said he feels the same for me. Mistress knows, and she said she’s going to work out a schedule with him to allow me to go over on a regular basis and stay the night, basically resulting in me being shared between them in most ways. I can hardly wait!!!
And … to my shock … he’s into Steampunk!!! I LOVE STEAMPUNK!!! He’s even teaching a class on it next week at The Sanctuary, and there will be a Steampunk party the following weekend. I’ll be going with him to both in costume, and that will be SOOO KEWL!!!
*giggles*
And on that note, time to run off to see my kids for awhile. Enjoy!!!
La kajira!!!
Showing posts with label sex. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sex. Show all posts
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
Day 57 - On Being Fucked by Mistress's Master and Enjoying It, But Being Told By Mistress I Still Can't Trust Him, and On Setting Rules and a Chore List That Makes Mistress and Me Quite Happy
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Sunday, October 4, 2009
Day 56 - On Having the Best Orgasm Ever, Being Treated Like a Dog, Being Tortured, Being Treated to Nepali Food, and Having One of the Best Days I've Had in a Very Long Time
Today was one of those days that reminds me of why I’m on the path I’m on. It was truly one of the most pleasurable days I’ve had in a long time.
I was treated like a canine pet in the morning and was given dog biscuits to eat as treats.
I was treated like a beloved slave in the evening and taken to a delicious dinner at an Nepali restaurant.
And in the middle of the day I had the best orgasm of my entire life. I’m not exaggerating. It was a mind-blowing experience that took a very long time to get my body and mind ready for it, in one little step after another.
But let’s begin at the beginning.
Mistress bade me drive her a half hour this morning to the house of the male friend who identifies himself as a "puppyboy." He greatly enjoys being put in sensory-deprivation situations while being naked and tied up, and during such times his mind falls into a subhuman state, with him uttering only growls and yips.
Unlike me, he does not consider his spiritual nature to be that of a canine. He has said he isn't quite sure why he enters into a "puppy" state, but he identifies with it so strongly that it has become his trademark image (literally, one he has copyrighted).
In contrast, Mistress treated me today much like she treats her dog.
Mistress sent me out twice to get ingredients she needed for lentil stew that she had me make from scratch at the puppyboy’s home, and during one trip she had me also get dog treats for her beloved mini-pin canine companion (who was with us all day).
When her dog wanted a treat, Mistress gave her one after having her roll over and sit obediently. Having missed breakfast, I looked hungrily at the treats, and Mistress told me she would also give me one ONLY after I earned it, and I very quickly returned to chopping up the vegetables and getting them in the sautéing pan. Afterward, Mistress smiled, had me kneel and put a dog treat in my mouth.
Instinctually, I ran under a table and very happily munched on the tough, beefy, jerky-like yumminess, to Mistress's amusement.
(FYI, later in the day, after hitting another milestone in the cooking chores, Mistress put a dry dog bisquit in my mouth, and I ran to the corner to enjoy it .. and it was rather tasty. I would have definitely wagged my tail if I had one. By then, she and I were getting rather into the groove of both of us being quite comfortable treating me like a dog.)
After I finished the first treat and returned to the kitchen, Mistress came up behind me and began massaging my vagina from the rear, and I felt suddenly like a canine bitch getting it doggie style. It felt SO nice, and I quickly started becoming overwhelmed with the sensations. Mistress noticed and used her other hand to massage my clit from the front, and before very long at all I exploded in a series of orgasms that left me screaming and quivering against the counter.
Later, after I returned from the second trip to the store, Mistress had me take off my shirt and bra, and she began to caress my nipples with a glove covered with rabbit fur.
It was at that point that I realized the disturbing story I mentioned at the end of my last blog entry (the story about the women being turned into horny imbeciles) clearly must have entered my dreams, but not as a nightmare. As Mistress rubbed my breasts, images from that story immediately flooded into my head, but in a very non-disturbing way. I became a woman who existed for sexual pleasure. My skin was electrified, begging to be touched erotically.
And I orgasmed, just from the feel of fur against my nipples. Not just a little orgasm, either. I came HARD, collapsing against Mistress and hugging her tightly while moaning and screaming. Somewhere in that bliss I begged to be allowed to suckle her clit, and she refused. Instead, she ordered me to kneel and put another dog biscuit in my mouth, which I greatly enjoyed under the table.
I love it. It feels so very, very right on a variety of levels.
Thinking back, the real reason I found that story to be upsetting was because the women's minds were wiped away without their consent. The fact that it was forced, and the protagonist in the story was slowly degraded while her mind and soul screamed in protest, is indeed what turns on some people. It doesn’t turn me on at all, however, and, instead, I find such things repulsive. At least the protagonist and the other victims were happy in their idiocy at the end, which is more than I can say for some stories in the genre. In far too many of the stories, the victim is trapped forever in a motionless body (a mannequin, a latex sex doll, etc.), doomed to an unending hell on Earth. This story wasn’t like that, although the victim’s personality is completely eradicated, and at one point the victim feels as if throwing herself in front of a car would be an equal fate, because in both cases her true essence will be dying.
Oh, the heck with it. Here’s the link to the first of the three parts that make up the story: Milk Maid (part one) . You can judge for yourself. I suspect most people who read this will roll their eyes over the fact that I’m making a big deal out of it. Probably most people will think the story’s stupid, and most of the rest will get turned on by it. *shrugs*
As you can tell, I hate horror movies. I never watch them, ever, unless they’re fun horror movies, like “The Lost Boys.” But stuff like “Saw” and “Friday the 13th” turn my stomach. Not from the blood and gore. That I can stand. It’s from the senseless killing and cruelty.
But I digress greatly from the day’s events.
The main thing I’m trying to get at is that if the Milk Maid story had been one where women were allowed to become ultra-gorgeous ultra-horny immortal idiots by choice, it would have been a nicer story, I think. And less disturbing.
And the fact that I was turned on by it today, feeling as if I had become one of the women in the story, means there’s a part of me that would love that fate. And, as a result, reading that story was part of what made today so erotically powerful.
A little while after returning with the food from the second trip (and being brought to orgasm by Mistress), she ordered me to caress my own clit until I brought myself to orgasm while she watched.
By then, I felt like my skin was practically on fire, and I was building up toward an explosion.
In the Gor novels, women slaves are kept naked in cages on market day, and they’re teased to the point of being sexually aroused when a potential buyer comes around to look them over. If a buyer is interested, he can take them out for a “test ride”, and as the men walk near the cages, the women reach out frantically, begging to be used sexually, hoping their intense craving to be fucked is relieved, and breaking down into tears if they’re ignored.
I thought that was all total bologna created by the oversexed author’s imagination, and I believed I would never feel like that.
Today I was proved wrong.
Toward the early afternoon Mistress had me help her out with the puppyboy. After tying him securely to the bed, Mistress had me take off my pants and panties and then sit on his face, and he began performing oral sex on me … and it wasn’t long before I orgasmed yet again, my cries of passion filling the room.
Mistress then ordered me to perform oral sex on the puppy boy, and with my mouth wrapped around his cock, my tongue working frantically, I soon got him to rock hardness. I begged Mistress to be allowed to have him in me and … somehow, she misunderstood me. She said she would let me do that. I was so happy and continued to suck on the puppy boy, but then he took over with his hands and Mistress ordered me to get something outside of the room. When I came back, the puppyboy had cum, with his semen all over his chest, and Mistress had wrapped him with a blanket and was telling me to cuddle him.
It was then I fell into a bit of shock. I looked at Mistress in horror and asked her what about having the puppyboy’s cock in my vagina … and she told me the puppyboy was spent and he wouldn’t be able to do that. When I told her what she had told me, she said she thought I had been telling her that I wanted it in my mouth, not in my vagina. And I fell into her arms and broke down crying, weeping while telling her that my mind was screaming at me for sexual release, and that I desperately needed a hard cock in my pussy … and the puppyboy’s cock had fit the bill so perfectly that the moment I put my hands on it to start sucking, my brain locked into it with a desperate desire. Mistress said she was sorry she didn’t understand me and told me to be more clear the next time. Nodding, tears flowing down my face, I obediently bent down to cuddle the puppyboy, but instead he more cuddled me, holding me softly while I bawled, my body wracked in sorrow.
Eventually my sobbing subsided, but I was filled with a loss, a realization that I had missed the perfect erotic storm. I realized that every fiber of my being was firing with the goal of being fucked hard, fast and deep, and that I had let the opportunity literally slip through my fingers. I knew in the depths of my subconscious that everything that had happened today and last night was leading up to one of the truly great orgasms of my life, and I was heartbroken beyond words. I’m serious. I’m not exaggerating. I somehow knew what I had missed, and I felt what can only be described as mournful grief.
(I just reread that last paragraph, and it sounds like an erotic novel or something from a bad porn film. But it’s really how I felt at the time. My emotions have been really powerful today from start to finish, and that’s just an example of them.)
Mistress encouraged me to move beyond it, and I soon was back in the kitchen, finishing up the lentil stew we were having for a late lunch. By then, my mind was in total slave mode, and I was in upper-middle protocol, if not fully high protocol. My existence revolved around serving Mistress and the puppyboy, and in making them as happy as possible.
And, apparently, I did, judging from Mistress’s reaction to my serves to her and the puppyboy during the next half hour. After Mistress finished her meal, she called me to her, had me kneel, kissed me gently and said, “You’ve been an exceptional girl today. Go get yourself two dog biscuits.”
It was truly high praise, and I excitedly thanked her, went and got two of the treats and munched on them happily under the table.
After I had finished cleaning up the dishes and counters, Mistress surprised me by ordering me to return to the play room (where the puppyboy has all of his bondage equipment set up). After having me strip naked, she told me to lie on the bed, where I was blindfolded and tied up with my feet in the air and my arms at my sides.
The next part of the day was less than enjoyable. To be honest, it was grueling and torturous at times. The puppyboy clearly didn’t understand the nature of my slavery, and he thought pain turned me on. As a result, he kept doing things like pinching my nipples with clothes pins while I was tied up and unable to do anything but scream in protest. He also kept rubbing a silicon dildo overly hard against my clit vagina, and, showing an apparent lack of understanding of female anatomy, he kept trying to thrust the dildo into my urethra, causing me to cry loudly in pain several times. Mistress eventually took the dildo from his hand and tried to give me sex with her own hand, but her fingernails were so sharp that they kept scratching my clit and inner vagina, causing me more discomfort. Eventually Mistress just told the puppyboy to leave me alone while she played with my nipples, but by then the cuffs on one of my ankles had slipped, and as a result my foot and leg were hurting so horribly I was starting to fall into a medititative trance as my body tried to escape the misery. Mistress realized what was happening and untied me, and I just stared at the ceiling for a very long time while she gently kissed me. I looked at her and asked for the dildo and without fanfare slipped it into my vagina, then I sighed and laid back on the bed. Mistress decided to let me rest, and she left the room with the puppyboy while I continued to stare at the ceiling for a very long time.
Eventually I came out of it and, reaching down, I took the silicon dildo out of my pussy, added a lot of lubricant, and started masturbating with it. It felt nice, but it was missing something. I called to Mistress, and when she returned to the play room, I begged her to take the dildo and pump me with it like a man. She nodded, silently took it from my grasp and started to do as I had asked while I laid back and closed my eyes.
She pumped just like a guy would. She began a bit slow and sporadically, starting and stopping, like a guy warming up. Then she started going faster, like a guy really getting into it. Then she really kicked into gear, like a guy coming close to climax and pumping into me like crazy before finally thrusting it its full length and finally slowing, as if the cock was spent.
It worked. She gave my brain exactly what it craved so deeply.
I screamed.
And kept screaming. Louder and louder.
The force of the orgasm swept over me like a tsunami. My mind was totally swept away. I crossed over into the nirvana people in the BDSM community call “subspace.”
I didn’t have multiple orgasms. It was one long, huge orgasm that lasted what seemed like both a few seconds and an eternity.
Afterward, Mistress told me she would have to gag me next time because my screams were so long and loud that she was concerned the neighbors would call the police on us. She was serious! *grins*
I finally came out of it and opened my eyes, and Mistress reached down and hugged me tenderly. I grabbed hold of her arm and clutched to it tightly, sobbing uncontrollably with an outpouring of emotion, like a floodgate had opened inside of me.
Afterward, I felt relaxed beyond words. At peace with the world, and madly, totally and deeply in love with my Mistress.
I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that my life is where it should be.
I’ve been floating on Cloud Nine all day since then. After we came back home, I very sweetly asked Mistress if we could get some takeout tonight because I wanted to do something different with her. She seemed puzzled at first, and I told her I felt very romantic tonight, and I just wanted to be with her.
That led us to driving around and, with “Sita Sings the Blues” in her mind, Mistress deciding for take me out to dinner at a wonderful little Nepali Restaurant in Longmont called “Everest.” We shared a sampler plate, and it was a delightful meal, a perfect end for a wonderful day.
Tonight at home was very laid back. I couldn’t get enough of Mistress, and I kept kissing her practically non-stop, all the way to her heading to bed. *giggles*
And on that note, I should be heading to bed, too, with love in my heart and joy in my soul.
La kajira!
p.s. Oh, and yet another bit of good news. The chief administrator of “The Legacy of Timeless Beauty” (the most respected online resource for stories involving people being turned into objects) said he liked “An Untangling of Strings”, and he’s going to publish my story on his site later this month! Woo hoo! *bounces* He also said he greatly looks forward to reading anything else I might write, so I’m now even more encouraged to get back into writing in one form or another!
I was treated like a canine pet in the morning and was given dog biscuits to eat as treats.
I was treated like a beloved slave in the evening and taken to a delicious dinner at an Nepali restaurant.
And in the middle of the day I had the best orgasm of my entire life. I’m not exaggerating. It was a mind-blowing experience that took a very long time to get my body and mind ready for it, in one little step after another.
But let’s begin at the beginning.
Mistress bade me drive her a half hour this morning to the house of the male friend who identifies himself as a "puppyboy." He greatly enjoys being put in sensory-deprivation situations while being naked and tied up, and during such times his mind falls into a subhuman state, with him uttering only growls and yips.
Unlike me, he does not consider his spiritual nature to be that of a canine. He has said he isn't quite sure why he enters into a "puppy" state, but he identifies with it so strongly that it has become his trademark image (literally, one he has copyrighted).
In contrast, Mistress treated me today much like she treats her dog.
Mistress sent me out twice to get ingredients she needed for lentil stew that she had me make from scratch at the puppyboy’s home, and during one trip she had me also get dog treats for her beloved mini-pin canine companion (who was with us all day).
When her dog wanted a treat, Mistress gave her one after having her roll over and sit obediently. Having missed breakfast, I looked hungrily at the treats, and Mistress told me she would also give me one ONLY after I earned it, and I very quickly returned to chopping up the vegetables and getting them in the sautéing pan. Afterward, Mistress smiled, had me kneel and put a dog treat in my mouth.
Instinctually, I ran under a table and very happily munched on the tough, beefy, jerky-like yumminess, to Mistress's amusement.
(FYI, later in the day, after hitting another milestone in the cooking chores, Mistress put a dry dog bisquit in my mouth, and I ran to the corner to enjoy it .. and it was rather tasty. I would have definitely wagged my tail if I had one. By then, she and I were getting rather into the groove of both of us being quite comfortable treating me like a dog.)
After I finished the first treat and returned to the kitchen, Mistress came up behind me and began massaging my vagina from the rear, and I felt suddenly like a canine bitch getting it doggie style. It felt SO nice, and I quickly started becoming overwhelmed with the sensations. Mistress noticed and used her other hand to massage my clit from the front, and before very long at all I exploded in a series of orgasms that left me screaming and quivering against the counter.
Later, after I returned from the second trip to the store, Mistress had me take off my shirt and bra, and she began to caress my nipples with a glove covered with rabbit fur.
It was at that point that I realized the disturbing story I mentioned at the end of my last blog entry (the story about the women being turned into horny imbeciles) clearly must have entered my dreams, but not as a nightmare. As Mistress rubbed my breasts, images from that story immediately flooded into my head, but in a very non-disturbing way. I became a woman who existed for sexual pleasure. My skin was electrified, begging to be touched erotically.
And I orgasmed, just from the feel of fur against my nipples. Not just a little orgasm, either. I came HARD, collapsing against Mistress and hugging her tightly while moaning and screaming. Somewhere in that bliss I begged to be allowed to suckle her clit, and she refused. Instead, she ordered me to kneel and put another dog biscuit in my mouth, which I greatly enjoyed under the table.
I love it. It feels so very, very right on a variety of levels.
Thinking back, the real reason I found that story to be upsetting was because the women's minds were wiped away without their consent. The fact that it was forced, and the protagonist in the story was slowly degraded while her mind and soul screamed in protest, is indeed what turns on some people. It doesn’t turn me on at all, however, and, instead, I find such things repulsive. At least the protagonist and the other victims were happy in their idiocy at the end, which is more than I can say for some stories in the genre. In far too many of the stories, the victim is trapped forever in a motionless body (a mannequin, a latex sex doll, etc.), doomed to an unending hell on Earth. This story wasn’t like that, although the victim’s personality is completely eradicated, and at one point the victim feels as if throwing herself in front of a car would be an equal fate, because in both cases her true essence will be dying.
Oh, the heck with it. Here’s the link to the first of the three parts that make up the story: Milk Maid (part one) . You can judge for yourself. I suspect most people who read this will roll their eyes over the fact that I’m making a big deal out of it. Probably most people will think the story’s stupid, and most of the rest will get turned on by it. *shrugs*
As you can tell, I hate horror movies. I never watch them, ever, unless they’re fun horror movies, like “The Lost Boys.” But stuff like “Saw” and “Friday the 13th” turn my stomach. Not from the blood and gore. That I can stand. It’s from the senseless killing and cruelty.
But I digress greatly from the day’s events.
The main thing I’m trying to get at is that if the Milk Maid story had been one where women were allowed to become ultra-gorgeous ultra-horny immortal idiots by choice, it would have been a nicer story, I think. And less disturbing.
And the fact that I was turned on by it today, feeling as if I had become one of the women in the story, means there’s a part of me that would love that fate. And, as a result, reading that story was part of what made today so erotically powerful.
A little while after returning with the food from the second trip (and being brought to orgasm by Mistress), she ordered me to caress my own clit until I brought myself to orgasm while she watched.
By then, I felt like my skin was practically on fire, and I was building up toward an explosion.
In the Gor novels, women slaves are kept naked in cages on market day, and they’re teased to the point of being sexually aroused when a potential buyer comes around to look them over. If a buyer is interested, he can take them out for a “test ride”, and as the men walk near the cages, the women reach out frantically, begging to be used sexually, hoping their intense craving to be fucked is relieved, and breaking down into tears if they’re ignored.
I thought that was all total bologna created by the oversexed author’s imagination, and I believed I would never feel like that.
Today I was proved wrong.
Toward the early afternoon Mistress had me help her out with the puppyboy. After tying him securely to the bed, Mistress had me take off my pants and panties and then sit on his face, and he began performing oral sex on me … and it wasn’t long before I orgasmed yet again, my cries of passion filling the room.
Mistress then ordered me to perform oral sex on the puppy boy, and with my mouth wrapped around his cock, my tongue working frantically, I soon got him to rock hardness. I begged Mistress to be allowed to have him in me and … somehow, she misunderstood me. She said she would let me do that. I was so happy and continued to suck on the puppy boy, but then he took over with his hands and Mistress ordered me to get something outside of the room. When I came back, the puppyboy had cum, with his semen all over his chest, and Mistress had wrapped him with a blanket and was telling me to cuddle him.
It was then I fell into a bit of shock. I looked at Mistress in horror and asked her what about having the puppyboy’s cock in my vagina … and she told me the puppyboy was spent and he wouldn’t be able to do that. When I told her what she had told me, she said she thought I had been telling her that I wanted it in my mouth, not in my vagina. And I fell into her arms and broke down crying, weeping while telling her that my mind was screaming at me for sexual release, and that I desperately needed a hard cock in my pussy … and the puppyboy’s cock had fit the bill so perfectly that the moment I put my hands on it to start sucking, my brain locked into it with a desperate desire. Mistress said she was sorry she didn’t understand me and told me to be more clear the next time. Nodding, tears flowing down my face, I obediently bent down to cuddle the puppyboy, but instead he more cuddled me, holding me softly while I bawled, my body wracked in sorrow.
Eventually my sobbing subsided, but I was filled with a loss, a realization that I had missed the perfect erotic storm. I realized that every fiber of my being was firing with the goal of being fucked hard, fast and deep, and that I had let the opportunity literally slip through my fingers. I knew in the depths of my subconscious that everything that had happened today and last night was leading up to one of the truly great orgasms of my life, and I was heartbroken beyond words. I’m serious. I’m not exaggerating. I somehow knew what I had missed, and I felt what can only be described as mournful grief.
(I just reread that last paragraph, and it sounds like an erotic novel or something from a bad porn film. But it’s really how I felt at the time. My emotions have been really powerful today from start to finish, and that’s just an example of them.)
Mistress encouraged me to move beyond it, and I soon was back in the kitchen, finishing up the lentil stew we were having for a late lunch. By then, my mind was in total slave mode, and I was in upper-middle protocol, if not fully high protocol. My existence revolved around serving Mistress and the puppyboy, and in making them as happy as possible.
And, apparently, I did, judging from Mistress’s reaction to my serves to her and the puppyboy during the next half hour. After Mistress finished her meal, she called me to her, had me kneel, kissed me gently and said, “You’ve been an exceptional girl today. Go get yourself two dog biscuits.”
It was truly high praise, and I excitedly thanked her, went and got two of the treats and munched on them happily under the table.
After I had finished cleaning up the dishes and counters, Mistress surprised me by ordering me to return to the play room (where the puppyboy has all of his bondage equipment set up). After having me strip naked, she told me to lie on the bed, where I was blindfolded and tied up with my feet in the air and my arms at my sides.
The next part of the day was less than enjoyable. To be honest, it was grueling and torturous at times. The puppyboy clearly didn’t understand the nature of my slavery, and he thought pain turned me on. As a result, he kept doing things like pinching my nipples with clothes pins while I was tied up and unable to do anything but scream in protest. He also kept rubbing a silicon dildo overly hard against my clit vagina, and, showing an apparent lack of understanding of female anatomy, he kept trying to thrust the dildo into my urethra, causing me to cry loudly in pain several times. Mistress eventually took the dildo from his hand and tried to give me sex with her own hand, but her fingernails were so sharp that they kept scratching my clit and inner vagina, causing me more discomfort. Eventually Mistress just told the puppyboy to leave me alone while she played with my nipples, but by then the cuffs on one of my ankles had slipped, and as a result my foot and leg were hurting so horribly I was starting to fall into a medititative trance as my body tried to escape the misery. Mistress realized what was happening and untied me, and I just stared at the ceiling for a very long time while she gently kissed me. I looked at her and asked for the dildo and without fanfare slipped it into my vagina, then I sighed and laid back on the bed. Mistress decided to let me rest, and she left the room with the puppyboy while I continued to stare at the ceiling for a very long time.
Eventually I came out of it and, reaching down, I took the silicon dildo out of my pussy, added a lot of lubricant, and started masturbating with it. It felt nice, but it was missing something. I called to Mistress, and when she returned to the play room, I begged her to take the dildo and pump me with it like a man. She nodded, silently took it from my grasp and started to do as I had asked while I laid back and closed my eyes.
She pumped just like a guy would. She began a bit slow and sporadically, starting and stopping, like a guy warming up. Then she started going faster, like a guy really getting into it. Then she really kicked into gear, like a guy coming close to climax and pumping into me like crazy before finally thrusting it its full length and finally slowing, as if the cock was spent.
It worked. She gave my brain exactly what it craved so deeply.
I screamed.
And kept screaming. Louder and louder.
The force of the orgasm swept over me like a tsunami. My mind was totally swept away. I crossed over into the nirvana people in the BDSM community call “subspace.”
I didn’t have multiple orgasms. It was one long, huge orgasm that lasted what seemed like both a few seconds and an eternity.
Afterward, Mistress told me she would have to gag me next time because my screams were so long and loud that she was concerned the neighbors would call the police on us. She was serious! *grins*
I finally came out of it and opened my eyes, and Mistress reached down and hugged me tenderly. I grabbed hold of her arm and clutched to it tightly, sobbing uncontrollably with an outpouring of emotion, like a floodgate had opened inside of me.
Afterward, I felt relaxed beyond words. At peace with the world, and madly, totally and deeply in love with my Mistress.
I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that my life is where it should be.
I’ve been floating on Cloud Nine all day since then. After we came back home, I very sweetly asked Mistress if we could get some takeout tonight because I wanted to do something different with her. She seemed puzzled at first, and I told her I felt very romantic tonight, and I just wanted to be with her.
That led us to driving around and, with “Sita Sings the Blues” in her mind, Mistress deciding for take me out to dinner at a wonderful little Nepali Restaurant in Longmont called “Everest.” We shared a sampler plate, and it was a delightful meal, a perfect end for a wonderful day.
Tonight at home was very laid back. I couldn’t get enough of Mistress, and I kept kissing her practically non-stop, all the way to her heading to bed. *giggles*
And on that note, I should be heading to bed, too, with love in my heart and joy in my soul.
La kajira!
p.s. Oh, and yet another bit of good news. The chief administrator of “The Legacy of Timeless Beauty” (the most respected online resource for stories involving people being turned into objects) said he liked “An Untangling of Strings”, and he’s going to publish my story on his site later this month! Woo hoo! *bounces* He also said he greatly looks forward to reading anything else I might write, so I’m now even more encouraged to get back into writing in one form or another!
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