Tuesday, June 23, 2015

I Might Not Squirt...

But apparently I do fart!

If you aren't picking yourself off the floor from hysterical laughter already, keep reading.

So, it seems I have this problem.  A weird new kink, maybe?  Let's call it self humiliation.

It's happened twice now.  The farting that is, not the squirting. 

Let me back up just a bit.  This phenomenon of squirting is something kind of new to me.  I'm not even sure that I truly understand it and whether it's a real thing is a debate for another post.  All I know is that it has happened on occasion, usually after multiple orgasms with the Hitachi.

Daddy is not a fan so it's not something I ever cared to explore.  But once it started happening, I became pretty self-conscious about it, although I had never even come close to it happening during sex...that is until the other night.  I was laying on my back with the lower portion of my body hanging over the side, massaging my clit and He was standing up thrusting into me.

I felt it starting to happen, just the right angle and the pressure was building. Right as my orgasm started, I just knew there was about to be a flood.  Well, that was right up until...I farted!!  Must have put a little too much pressure into it!  LOL 

We looked at each other in shock and then busted out laughing, squealing about how unattractive "THAT" was.   

So the first time you can shake off and chalk up as just an embarrassing moment.  But today...today takes the cake.

I meet Daddy at His office or lunch.  After we eat, He tells me to lock the door and I can't leave until I make myself cum.  So, I shimmy my skirt up, sit down in one of the chairs and prop my feet up one another chair. 

As I lay my head back and close my eyes, massaging myself, He sits at His desk acting only mildly interested in what I am doing because He is "working".  To make the show a little more exciting, I ask Him for something to use...a pen...something like that.  A good little insertion and something to leave Him with, a nice little reminder of my time there. He throws me a marker from across the desk.

I hear sounds outside His door, the fear of being caught both scary and exciting.  I'm getting closer and closer, finally going over the edge, arching my body in the chair in the throws of my self pleasure. I try to keep from screaming...

And then...<insert loud fart noise>  

Seriously, I almost fell out of the chair laughing so damn hard but WTF?!  Really, what is going on?

Am I trying so hard to squirt (or not to squirt) that the pressure is backing up?

Is it another one of those "you are just getting older" problems?

I mean sure, we get a good laugh at my complete and utter embarrassment but I am going to develop a serious complex...not to mention it ruins a perfectly good orgasm!!

Monday, June 22, 2015

Not sure I want "THIS"

Yes...unfortunately, I said those exact words.  I think He was stunned and not all too happy, although he was quick to assure me I was right to say something.   

A far cry from my last few posts, I know.  Everything just seemed to be "clicking".  But emotions can be like shifting sands, changing direction quickly at times. And since I haven't been posting much lately, it's hard to accurately and completely portray the ups and downs.  I just assumed things would right themselves, as they usually do.

It was just an off day.  Ok...maybe an off week. 

Life has been extremely chaotic the last six weeks and Heron (who I will now go back to referring to as Daddy) had been giving me a good bit of leeway, which I consciously tried not to take advantage of.  But maybe I underestimated just how far I had drifted.

Things bothered me that normally don't.  The urge to resist was strong.  There was a sharp edge of truth in my playful banter.  I had even "jokingly" mentioned I needed a day to just be an asshole.  What the hell would possess me to say that?  As you can imagine, He didn't find it very amusing.  

Droopy (or droppy) feelings and hormones were definitely playing a part.  And I thought it best to let it pass, ride out the storm.  I've done it before, mostly in the beginning but not so much lately.  Maybe just a handful of times in the past couple years, have I doubted my desire for submission.

My thoughts tend to go kind of like this...

Yes, it is what He needs and wants.  And it is undoubtedly what works best for us.  But is all of "THIS"...what I need or want? 

I was struggling, the mental tug of war playing havoc in my head.  And then He is hovering over me as I laid on the bed. He kisses me and whispers "I need more from you".

Why does this statement scare me so much.  Perhaps it makes me feel inadequate, like I am not strong enough in my service or submission to Him and that I am somehow failing.  Or maybe, it is the unknown depth of "MORE".  Maybe it's both.

But what exactly does "MORE" encompass?

I know the answer to that question now.  "More" simply means that He needs more of me.  Thankfully, not a reflection of my submission at all and not an expectation of needing more from me. I feel like such a girl over-complicating such a simple statement.

But at the time, the fear of "MORE" is what made me crack.  My resolve to "let it pass" fell by the wayside as I started babbling about struggling and wondering if I wanted all of this anymore. 

He was calm and understanding, reminding me that He made an agreement to end dynamic if and I when the time came. But the look in His eyes broke my heart the moment the words came out.

On one hand, I wished I hadn't said anything.  On the other hand, getting the words out meant they weren't gumming up the works anymore.  The truth is, I didn't want to go back.  Is there really ever any going back anyways? 

I just needed my feelings to be heard and acknowledged, to know that in theory, we have a choice. Because not having a choice means my submission is not freely given.

We tabled the discussion at the time, agreeing that if I was hormonal/emotional, it wasn't the time to talk about it.  And as I suspected, the feelings passed and we talked about it and cleared everything up over the weekend.

He did indicate a shift in some expectations and for the time being, I am only to refer to him as Daddy.  Not sure exactly why, but I trust that He has a reason. 


Monday, June 8, 2015

Who Owns You?

I had just arrived home from shopping, picking up a few things for the little one to take one vacation. Heron, the man who owns my mind, body, and soul, had been waiting patiently for me to return.

Once the kids were settled, He locked the upstairs bedroom door and turned to me, telling me not to bother removing my clothes.  I looked sheepishly but left the tank top and skirt that tightly clung to my body.

Ushering me to the side of the bed, he stood behind me, kissing my neck and sliding the straps of the tank top down my arms, pushing it down enough to expose my tits.  He continued kissing along my neck while playing with my nipples, which quickly turned to pinching.

It caught me by surprise when his tenderness changed in a moment.  I found myself face down on the bed with my arms held behind me.  He tied my arms behind my back and then pulled me up pressing my back against his chest.  Kissing my neck again, he slipped the ball gag over my head.  My mind raced wondering what he would do to that would warrant the need for a gag.

He pushed my face back down into the bed, yanked up my skirt and slid my panties down.  With my feet still on the floor, he forced my legs to spread wider and slapped at my exposed pussy several times with a blue plastic ruler. It wasn't long before I felt the warmth of His hardness filling me from behind.  Every couple of strokes of his cock were accompanied by a few smacks on my ass with the very same ruler.

I was in pure bliss until he grabbed a fistful of my hair and brought me up to an upright position.  He continued moving in and out, but now his hand gripped my throat, while his other hand brought the ruler down across my tits  Now I knew why the gag was necessary.  I whimpered and cried out but he was relentless again and again, he pushed me face first in the bed, only to drag me up again to torture my nipples, sometimes using the ruler and sometimes using the thin whippy rubber flogger.    

Eventually, he pushed me all the way up on the bed.  On my back with my lower body hanging just off the side of the bed, arms still fixed behind my body rendering me completely helpless, he continued to thrust into me.  Standing over me, he alternated the flogger over my nipples.  Every time I wanted to cry out but the gag only muffled my sound.

He used the clothes that had now become bundled around my waist to gain better leverage, pulling me onto his cock harder and faster.

Yanking the gag down so that it hung around my neck, he asked, "Who owns you?".

"You do.", I whispered.

My answer is met with a sharp smack across the cheek.  It was just enough to get my attention and I quickly corrected myself.

"You do, Sir."

He acknowledged my answer with a "good girl" but also that my body had given something away.  He knew just how much I enjoyed being "man-handled" in this way.

The look in his eyes was so intense, primal even, as he pulled me up and close to him. With one hand supporting the back of my neck and the other around my throat, our eyes were fixed, connecting on a level that I can't quite put into words.

All I knows is that he owns me completely and nothing in this world could make me more happy.

Saturday, June 6, 2015

A Night to Remember

Once again, I sit here (on a sore bottom mind you) trying to write a post, wondering where in the heck to start.  This is becoming quite a habit.  So many words, yet so little ability to make my brain function to get them written out.

Let's see....things are a bit slow on the Chrysalis front. I guess we haven't really had much time with the kids being out of school and all.  But we have now brought our families completely together which has been fun. 

Things might be a little slow on that front, but things have certainly been not been as far as Heron is concerned.

Starting a couple weeks back, he implemented a ritual.  I don't know that it will be a permanent one but it is until He tells me otherwise.  Each day, I am to select and present Him with an implement to paddle me with.  No reason for this other than that's what He wants me to do.  A little part of me wonders if this wasn't to help keep my emotions in check a bit.  As I started spiraling back a couple weeks ago, this has seemed to be a good way to keep me grounded and bring my focus back on what's most important...Him.

He has used everything from the ping pong paddle, to the crop, to the bamboo slotted spoon (which should really be called a Mother F****r for as bad as that hurts), to the large plastic ruler.  Last night was by far the most intense though.  First was 50 strikes with the bamboo walking stick and then 30 more with the bamboo slotted spoon.  It's been quite a while since I have woken up with bruises.  And over the last year or so, it has been near impossible to mark me but last night He was pretty  successful.  I know it's not the best way to cope with the pain, but all I could do was hold my breath and take each lick as it came.  It wasn't until He was done that my tears finally spilled.   

We have also somehow managed eight straight days of sex which is absolutely unheard of in our house.  Some of it has been sweet and tender but some of it has been downright rough and naughty...and so much fun!

The first of the eight nights was one of those nights.  You know the kind...one that just stands out in your mind as particularly memorable.  The last time He had attempted to use the Tens unit, the batteries were dead so He bought new batteries and apparently decided it was time to try again.  Yep...fresh batteries did the trick!

With my ankles and wrists cuffed and attached to each of the four corners of the bed, I laid there spread eagle, exposed, and completely helpless which is His favorite position for me.  Who am I kidding...it's one of my favorites too!

He gently placed the four pads around my rapidly swelling and wet pussy, making sure to avoid my extremely sensitive clit area.  I flinched when He first turned it on but then settled into the gentle hum and the feeling of it pulsing around my pelvis.  Leaning over me, He stroked my body and kissed me deeply.  When He was sure that I was focused more on the pleasure of His touch, He turned it up just to remind me of the pain.  He continued alternating like this, sometimes also adding in a few strikes of the flogger across my tits, until He had reached the highest setting on the unit 

I thought He might have been done but He was actually far from finished.  Now, He moved the pads around so that one was directly on my clit and told me He intended to again get it to the highest power.  To add to my discomfort, He put the clover clamps on each of my nipples  Believe it or not, even with the pain in my nipples, had something also been moving inside of me, I feel certain I could have had an orgasm from the electricity pulsing through my clit.

Now instead of distracting my pain with kissing and flogging, He used the violet wand.  Each time He increased the intensity, He teased my body with the wand, tracing it across my flesh.  He was quite proud of Himself for leaving the red markings of the word "whore" across my stomach, which I proudly wore the rest of the night.  But thankfully they were gone by the next day.  

Finally getting to the highest setting, He turned the Tens off, removed the pads, and with a huge sadistic grin on His face, used the violet wand to continue zapping me directly on the clit until I was writhing and whimpering, trying to arch off the bed and fight against the restraint that held me fixed. 

Next, He brought out the knife.  It's a switch blade type, and just to hear the sound it gives me shivers of anticipation. I never really thought I would ever enjoy knife play as much as I do but it really gets me going when it's threatening me in just the right spots.  With my body sill spread eagle, He climbed over me and settled between my legs, warning me not to move.  Just to be sure, He puts straps just above my knees and fastened them to the sides of the bed forcing my legs into a semi-butterflied position.

Slowly and ever so gently He began dragging the blade of the knife over my clit.  Then I felt the coldness of the blade touching and parting my lips just before sliding in.   

Don't you dare move. 

He moved it ever so slightly in and out.  My body didn't even so much as flinch.  My breathing slowed and deepened and I drifted off lost in the moment. 

At some point afterwards, I realized He had replaced the switch blade with a butter knife but part of the game is not knowing when He actually did that.  Beautiful mind fuck! 

After so much stimulation, it was sweet relief, when He finally removed His clothes and took me as I still lay helpless and bound in the bed.

What a night!  I have another one to write about but that's going to have to wait until the next post:)