Tomorrow I will be meeting our D/s mentor for the first time. Jay had a fairly lengthy meeting with him several weeks ago. I have communicated with him extensively via phone and text, but not yet seen him in person.
I am both giddy with excitement and extremly anxious. I have pitched several temper tantrums,and at times exhibited behavior unbecoming of a submissive. I have been told I will receive the proper discipline for my behavior. Our new mentor means business, this I know. He is good at what he does. He won't be inclined to go easy on me as Jay often is. He will teach Jay not to go easy on me.
I need this. I crave this. I fear this.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
The Sting
After the concert last Saturday, Jay had a little fun of a different sort in store for me. When we returned to the car he assisted me in removing my corset which was succeeding in compressing my lungs until I could barely breathe (thank God I didn’t live during the Victorian Era), and handed me a sheer tank top to put on which left my pierced nipples and breasts quite visible. I was a bit disturbed and fussy about this happening right in the parking lot where plenty of people continued to walk by, but made the wardrobe change as quickly and discretely as possible in the car.
I was then ordered to give him my wrists so that he could bind them with the wrist cuffs which I did without complaint. Just before he placed my blindfold on I spied the penis gag in his hand. I begged not to be gagged. My mouth was dry, my throat was a bit sore from all the screaming and singing, and I just didn’t feel I could do it. He was kind to me offering to leave the gag off if I promised to keep silent. The blindfold was put into place, and we were off to his desired destination as I sat nervously in the passenger seat. I tried to ask a few questions to which I got, “I’m going to put the gag on.” After that I was silent because I knew he meant it.
My mind raced as I tried to imagine what it was he had in store for me. I feared we were going back to a club we had visited a few months ago that I had found undesirable. Perhaps, I thought, he has arranged my first meeting with our new mentor, but knew that was unlikely for several different reasons. I worried and fretted about what he had in store for me and whether or not I would be able to please him with my participation.
I felt oh so tired after the evening’s festivities at the concert. All I really wanted to do was go home. I was having a rather hard time maintaining the proper interest and enthusiasm for this little excursion.
When the car finally stopped, he came around to the passenger side and removed my cuffs. I reached for the blindfold, but he batted my hand away roughly. I began to feel panicked at the thought he might make me walk into what was obviously a public place blindfolded. He then informed me he would remove the blindfold for now, but put it back in place once we got where we were going.
When the blindfold was removed, I could see that we were at the adult bookstore we had visited some time ago which has the viewing booths in the back. There was a bar with an outdoor deck next door full of partiers eagerly watching people as they entered the adult store. I crossed my arms over my nearly bare chest and kept my eyes down in shame as we entered the store. Jay promptly told me to take my arms down from my chest as we wandered the small store.
He eventually led me to the back with the viewing booths, replaced my blindfold, and led me to a booth. I was told to sit on the stool, spread my legs and rub my cunt as he fed the machine dollars and scrolled through the porn. He unzipped his pants and told me to take out his cock and stroke him. I was tired, I had to pee, and I didn’t want to do this. I rubbed lazily for a bit, and then just stopped. As I sat there, trying to convince myself to continue with his demands…SLAP! He slapped me across the face hard. I didn’t even see it coming with the blindfold on. My face stung and my cunt was instantly wet.
I obediently got down my knees on the dirty floor and began to suck his cock with much more enthusiasm, my cheek still stinging with the blow from his palm. He had me climb back up on the stool and stroke his cock as I fingered my wet pussy. He kept going on about how he knew I wanted another cock. I desperately tried to peer underneath my blindfold, terrified that there might be someone else there. Someone that he was going to allow to fuck me or someone whose cock I would be ordered to suck. There wasn’t, of course, but he knew it would frighten me.
When he asked me where I wanted his cum, I immediately replied that I wanted it on my tits. I pulled down my top, got down on my knees and hungrily offered my tits to him. When he shot out onto them I gave a quiet cry of arousal. When he had covered my tits and chest with his orgasm, I pulled my top back up, feeling the wetness of his cum soak into the shirt. He then placed me back on the stool, and had me scroll through to find my own porn and masturbate until I came. When I did, he urged me to cry out loudly. I did my best, but I still think it was rather muted due to my concern about being heard by others in the store.
An important lesson was learned here by both of us regarding just how much my arousal and compliance can be influenced by his physical dominance. I had asked him several times in the past to slap me in the face, but he never could bring himself to more than just a tap. This is just the beginning, I hope, of a beautiful journey into dominance and submission together.
I was then ordered to give him my wrists so that he could bind them with the wrist cuffs which I did without complaint. Just before he placed my blindfold on I spied the penis gag in his hand. I begged not to be gagged. My mouth was dry, my throat was a bit sore from all the screaming and singing, and I just didn’t feel I could do it. He was kind to me offering to leave the gag off if I promised to keep silent. The blindfold was put into place, and we were off to his desired destination as I sat nervously in the passenger seat. I tried to ask a few questions to which I got, “I’m going to put the gag on.” After that I was silent because I knew he meant it.
My mind raced as I tried to imagine what it was he had in store for me. I feared we were going back to a club we had visited a few months ago that I had found undesirable. Perhaps, I thought, he has arranged my first meeting with our new mentor, but knew that was unlikely for several different reasons. I worried and fretted about what he had in store for me and whether or not I would be able to please him with my participation.
I felt oh so tired after the evening’s festivities at the concert. All I really wanted to do was go home. I was having a rather hard time maintaining the proper interest and enthusiasm for this little excursion.
When the car finally stopped, he came around to the passenger side and removed my cuffs. I reached for the blindfold, but he batted my hand away roughly. I began to feel panicked at the thought he might make me walk into what was obviously a public place blindfolded. He then informed me he would remove the blindfold for now, but put it back in place once we got where we were going.
When the blindfold was removed, I could see that we were at the adult bookstore we had visited some time ago which has the viewing booths in the back. There was a bar with an outdoor deck next door full of partiers eagerly watching people as they entered the adult store. I crossed my arms over my nearly bare chest and kept my eyes down in shame as we entered the store. Jay promptly told me to take my arms down from my chest as we wandered the small store.
He eventually led me to the back with the viewing booths, replaced my blindfold, and led me to a booth. I was told to sit on the stool, spread my legs and rub my cunt as he fed the machine dollars and scrolled through the porn. He unzipped his pants and told me to take out his cock and stroke him. I was tired, I had to pee, and I didn’t want to do this. I rubbed lazily for a bit, and then just stopped. As I sat there, trying to convince myself to continue with his demands…SLAP! He slapped me across the face hard. I didn’t even see it coming with the blindfold on. My face stung and my cunt was instantly wet.
I obediently got down my knees on the dirty floor and began to suck his cock with much more enthusiasm, my cheek still stinging with the blow from his palm. He had me climb back up on the stool and stroke his cock as I fingered my wet pussy. He kept going on about how he knew I wanted another cock. I desperately tried to peer underneath my blindfold, terrified that there might be someone else there. Someone that he was going to allow to fuck me or someone whose cock I would be ordered to suck. There wasn’t, of course, but he knew it would frighten me.
When he asked me where I wanted his cum, I immediately replied that I wanted it on my tits. I pulled down my top, got down on my knees and hungrily offered my tits to him. When he shot out onto them I gave a quiet cry of arousal. When he had covered my tits and chest with his orgasm, I pulled my top back up, feeling the wetness of his cum soak into the shirt. He then placed me back on the stool, and had me scroll through to find my own porn and masturbate until I came. When I did, he urged me to cry out loudly. I did my best, but I still think it was rather muted due to my concern about being heard by others in the store.
An important lesson was learned here by both of us regarding just how much my arousal and compliance can be influenced by his physical dominance. I had asked him several times in the past to slap me in the face, but he never could bring himself to more than just a tap. This is just the beginning, I hope, of a beautiful journey into dominance and submission together.
Monday, May 16, 2011
I Am A Very Lucky Woman
My husband loves me very much. I’ve always known this, but I don’t think I’ve always appreciated it as I should. I know this not because of all the things I am about to tell you he bought and did for me, but because the love behind them was palpable. It is my desire to express my appreciation for all these things to him here today.
My birthday was last week Jay always does very well for my birthday which is a challenge for him as it falls on or within days of Mother’s Day. I have never gotten a combo Mother’s Day/Birthday gift. This year though he seemed extra full of surprises.
The Friday before Mother’s Day I received a bouquet of flowers at work with two balloons wishing me Happy Birthday and Happy Mother’s Day. On Mother’s Day I received a basket of my favorite lotions from Bath and Body Works. However, my dear husband wasn’t done there.
He arranged to take our daughter to my parents for a few hours while our son was at work. He instructed me to light a few candles about the room, remove all my clothing, slip into my spa robe, and await his return. At this point I assumed he was having someone come over to give me a massage. As it turns out, he had arranged a little more than that.
There is a woman that attends and gives performances at the fetish parties we frequent; I’ll call her Ms. Dee which is fitting for a couple of reasons, not the least of which that she has very large breasts. I have had a huge crush on her for quite some time now. I’ve conversed with her briefly, but never anything of significance. At our last party, we learned that she is a licensed aesthetician, and runs her own business. She gave me her business card.
My sweet husband, knowing I would never have the nerve to call her on my own to arrange an appointment, arranged one for me. He also explained to her how I have had a little crush on her for some time now. He further made sure she was ok with performing my services while I was completely naked. She was plenty fine with it! So I received a body polishing (this involves rubbing an exfoliating substance all over my body, showering, and then rubbing body cream all over my body including my breasts as a special treat just for me), a facial and a foot treatment completely in the nude as Jay watched and enjoyed.
Jay also arranged for Ms. Dee to stay to dinner with us. I know your feverish, perverted minds want to hear about the hot lesbian sex that later ensued, but I must disappoint you in that. That’s not to say it might not happen at some point in the future…who knows. In addition to being hot, Ms. Dee is a sweetheart and now a new friend.
The next day on my actual birthday, I received a beautiful birthday cake and an MP3 player to take on my runs from my children.
What else could my wonderful husband have given me for my birthday to top that you ask…a time machine magically transporting me back to the 80’s in the form of Bon Jovi tickets for this past Saturday night!!! They are one of my very favorite bands since the teenage years. They played for nearly 3 hours. We had so much fun! There is nothing like an arena full of 20,000 people singing the entire first chorus of “Livin’ on a Prayer” while Jon simply stood on stage and listened. I swear that man just gets hotter and hotter as the years go by!
Being the more and more obedient sub I am striving to become, I wore the outfit Jay directed me to wear to the concert…black corset cinched so tightly I could barely breath and very short black skirt which I tugged at all night trying to prevent my ass from hanging out! After the concert is another story entirely, but another illustration of why I am a lucky, well loved woman. I shall attempt to post the details later this week
My birthday was last week Jay always does very well for my birthday which is a challenge for him as it falls on or within days of Mother’s Day. I have never gotten a combo Mother’s Day/Birthday gift. This year though he seemed extra full of surprises.
The Friday before Mother’s Day I received a bouquet of flowers at work with two balloons wishing me Happy Birthday and Happy Mother’s Day. On Mother’s Day I received a basket of my favorite lotions from Bath and Body Works. However, my dear husband wasn’t done there.
He arranged to take our daughter to my parents for a few hours while our son was at work. He instructed me to light a few candles about the room, remove all my clothing, slip into my spa robe, and await his return. At this point I assumed he was having someone come over to give me a massage. As it turns out, he had arranged a little more than that.
There is a woman that attends and gives performances at the fetish parties we frequent; I’ll call her Ms. Dee which is fitting for a couple of reasons, not the least of which that she has very large breasts. I have had a huge crush on her for quite some time now. I’ve conversed with her briefly, but never anything of significance. At our last party, we learned that she is a licensed aesthetician, and runs her own business. She gave me her business card.
My sweet husband, knowing I would never have the nerve to call her on my own to arrange an appointment, arranged one for me. He also explained to her how I have had a little crush on her for some time now. He further made sure she was ok with performing my services while I was completely naked. She was plenty fine with it! So I received a body polishing (this involves rubbing an exfoliating substance all over my body, showering, and then rubbing body cream all over my body including my breasts as a special treat just for me), a facial and a foot treatment completely in the nude as Jay watched and enjoyed.
Jay also arranged for Ms. Dee to stay to dinner with us. I know your feverish, perverted minds want to hear about the hot lesbian sex that later ensued, but I must disappoint you in that. That’s not to say it might not happen at some point in the future…who knows. In addition to being hot, Ms. Dee is a sweetheart and now a new friend.
The next day on my actual birthday, I received a beautiful birthday cake and an MP3 player to take on my runs from my children.
What else could my wonderful husband have given me for my birthday to top that you ask…a time machine magically transporting me back to the 80’s in the form of Bon Jovi tickets for this past Saturday night!!! They are one of my very favorite bands since the teenage years. They played for nearly 3 hours. We had so much fun! There is nothing like an arena full of 20,000 people singing the entire first chorus of “Livin’ on a Prayer” while Jon simply stood on stage and listened. I swear that man just gets hotter and hotter as the years go by!
Being the more and more obedient sub I am striving to become, I wore the outfit Jay directed me to wear to the concert…black corset cinched so tightly I could barely breath and very short black skirt which I tugged at all night trying to prevent my ass from hanging out! After the concert is another story entirely, but another illustration of why I am a lucky, well loved woman. I shall attempt to post the details later this week
Saturday, May 14, 2011
A Dom's Love Song
Everytime I hear this song by ShineDown I think about how it perfectly describes a Dom's relationship with his sub, and it makes me wet. What is more powerful than to be owned body and soul by a man stronger than you...physically and mentally?
Jay and I may have finally found our mentor for developing our D/s relationship in the way we would both like. I'll be keeping it to myself until it unfolds a bit more.
Jay and I may have finally found our mentor for developing our D/s relationship in the way we would both like. I'll be keeping it to myself until it unfolds a bit more.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Get Off the Cross, We Need the Wood
Disclaimer: The following post has NOTHING to do with sex. There, I warned you.
I recently had an interesting and wonderful experience. Jay and I finally made the decision to join a health club. It’s a very nice one too…open 24/7, a resort-like swimming pool (indoor and outdoor), every imaginable class and piece of exercise equipment, spa, summer daycamps for our daughter. We are very excited about having finally joined.
When you go in to take a tour with a representative and actually join, they set you up with a “free” session with a personal trainer. I attended my “free” session on Sunday. I went in with the expectation that I would tell him or her that I have my aerobic exercise taken care of with running, tell them the areas of my body I would like to focus on toning, and he or she would direct me to and demonstrate the equipment that would best help me achieve those goals. Ah, but this was not to be, dear reader, as I soon discovered.
My assigned trainer whom we shall refer to as "Rick" immediately sat me down at a desk and had me fill out paperwork about my top three fitness goals which were as follows VERBATIM on my sheet(this will become important later):
1.Tone
2.Strengthen
3.Perhaps some weight loss (not my main goal)
This sheet went on to ask me to list what I ate for breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks on a typical day. That seemed a bit much, but I went with it. For the most part I eat pretty well most days so I listed a typical day, and omitted a day when I might eat say a half a bag of Reese’s miniatures or 6 chocolate chip cookies or a bowl and a half of ice cream. Really that’s my business, not his. Rick read over the list carefully and finding little he could critique, went for the evil granola bars. “Boy you really like granola bars, don’t you? They are full of sugar. Get rid of them. Eat a protein bar instead.” When I protested that protein bars taste awful, Rick offers,” Ah well not all of them. We’ve got some great ones downstairs in the café. Check them out.” It was at this point that I began to realize this “free” personal training session was not going to be what I had hoped for.
Eventually Rick did get up and lead me into the workout area, my hopes increased that maybe now I could get what I wanted from him. Instead he led me right to his little evaluation station where he proceeded to ask me to get up on the scale to take my weight. I have quite recently made the decision that I will no longer weigh myself. I know what I weighed about 3 weeks ago, and I can tell from my clothing if I have lost, gained or maintained that weight. I no longer want to be deeply depressed or wildly ecstatic over a number on a piece of machinery. Again being the submissive sort of gal that I am, I complied with Rick’s wishes and figured he could take his number and I just wouldn’t look at it. I stood on the scale until he told me I could get down. As I did so, he gestured his head towards his computer with a very serious look obviously wanting me to take a look at the number as well. I am a human being, I couldn’t help but look. What I saw didn’t surprise me at all. I felt a bit of mild embarrassment that this total stranger (male no less) now also knew what I weighed, but I wasn’t as horrified by it as I think he wanted me to be.
We moved on from there taking various tests and measurements including the dreaded BMI. When he had determined this for me, he turned to me in his most serious of expresions and reported his findings of .35. “What does that mean?” I asked. In an even more somber delivery he replied, “This means your body is made up of 35% fat.” Again, it didn’t shock or concern me as much as it seemed to concern him.
When Rick had finished all his measurements and computations, I was handed a sheet of his findings which told me I was overweight. Really Einstein? I am shocked! I had no idea before I walked in here today that I was... dare I say the word... overweight. Remember those goals I listed at the beginning? The ones that said weight loss was not a main goal for me? Rick apparently skipped right over that part as he went on to the real purpose of our “free” personal training session which was to push his weight loss training classes and eating plan which cost quite a hefty sum over and above the monthly membership fee. I know I am not a (deep serious voice here) “personal trainer” but I am thinking that if I am running, and I desire to come in to the gym to work on my goals of toning and strengthening I just might lose a little weight as a side effect of all that.
I tell this story for a reason, dear reader. As recently as a few months ago I would have left that meeting deeply shamed and embarrassed. I would have beaten myself up as mercilessly as a Catholic nun on her period. I likely would have never returned there to work out with the “thin” people. I would have dieted and restricted myself in guilt and fear until I could stand it no longer and then binged for days or weeks until I had gained back every ounce I had managed to drop, and hated myself even more than when I began. But that didn’t happen. Other than some mild annoyance that this guy had wasted over an hour of my time I could have been spending with my daughter at the pool, I felt nothing. I left there with my self worth, confident that it wasn’t tied to a number on a scale or a BMI reading. I left there knowing that I am an attractive, sexy, lovable woman. I left with the same plan I came with... continue to run because I love it, add in some toning exercise, eat what I want when I am hungry because to do anything else makes me a crazy woman, and I just might lose some weight in the midst of all that. Would I like to lose weight? Yes. Am I about 25-30 pounds from what I consider to be a comfortable weight for myself? Yes. Will I die if I never see that weight again? No.
This shift in thought and mindset represents a huge milestone for me. It comes with decades of struggle and pain that I know many women can identify with. I no longer feel the need to nail myself to the cross because my body isn’t the right shape or size. It is such a relief and such a joyful feeling that I just can’t keep it to myself!
I recently had an interesting and wonderful experience. Jay and I finally made the decision to join a health club. It’s a very nice one too…open 24/7, a resort-like swimming pool (indoor and outdoor), every imaginable class and piece of exercise equipment, spa, summer daycamps for our daughter. We are very excited about having finally joined.
When you go in to take a tour with a representative and actually join, they set you up with a “free” session with a personal trainer. I attended my “free” session on Sunday. I went in with the expectation that I would tell him or her that I have my aerobic exercise taken care of with running, tell them the areas of my body I would like to focus on toning, and he or she would direct me to and demonstrate the equipment that would best help me achieve those goals. Ah, but this was not to be, dear reader, as I soon discovered.
My assigned trainer whom we shall refer to as "Rick" immediately sat me down at a desk and had me fill out paperwork about my top three fitness goals which were as follows VERBATIM on my sheet(this will become important later):
1.Tone
2.Strengthen
3.Perhaps some weight loss (not my main goal)
This sheet went on to ask me to list what I ate for breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks on a typical day. That seemed a bit much, but I went with it. For the most part I eat pretty well most days so I listed a typical day, and omitted a day when I might eat say a half a bag of Reese’s miniatures or 6 chocolate chip cookies or a bowl and a half of ice cream. Really that’s my business, not his. Rick read over the list carefully and finding little he could critique, went for the evil granola bars. “Boy you really like granola bars, don’t you? They are full of sugar. Get rid of them. Eat a protein bar instead.” When I protested that protein bars taste awful, Rick offers,” Ah well not all of them. We’ve got some great ones downstairs in the café. Check them out.” It was at this point that I began to realize this “free” personal training session was not going to be what I had hoped for.
Eventually Rick did get up and lead me into the workout area, my hopes increased that maybe now I could get what I wanted from him. Instead he led me right to his little evaluation station where he proceeded to ask me to get up on the scale to take my weight. I have quite recently made the decision that I will no longer weigh myself. I know what I weighed about 3 weeks ago, and I can tell from my clothing if I have lost, gained or maintained that weight. I no longer want to be deeply depressed or wildly ecstatic over a number on a piece of machinery. Again being the submissive sort of gal that I am, I complied with Rick’s wishes and figured he could take his number and I just wouldn’t look at it. I stood on the scale until he told me I could get down. As I did so, he gestured his head towards his computer with a very serious look obviously wanting me to take a look at the number as well. I am a human being, I couldn’t help but look. What I saw didn’t surprise me at all. I felt a bit of mild embarrassment that this total stranger (male no less) now also knew what I weighed, but I wasn’t as horrified by it as I think he wanted me to be.
We moved on from there taking various tests and measurements including the dreaded BMI. When he had determined this for me, he turned to me in his most serious of expresions and reported his findings of .35. “What does that mean?” I asked. In an even more somber delivery he replied, “This means your body is made up of 35% fat.” Again, it didn’t shock or concern me as much as it seemed to concern him.
When Rick had finished all his measurements and computations, I was handed a sheet of his findings which told me I was overweight. Really Einstein? I am shocked! I had no idea before I walked in here today that I was... dare I say the word... overweight. Remember those goals I listed at the beginning? The ones that said weight loss was not a main goal for me? Rick apparently skipped right over that part as he went on to the real purpose of our “free” personal training session which was to push his weight loss training classes and eating plan which cost quite a hefty sum over and above the monthly membership fee. I know I am not a (deep serious voice here) “personal trainer” but I am thinking that if I am running, and I desire to come in to the gym to work on my goals of toning and strengthening I just might lose a little weight as a side effect of all that.
I tell this story for a reason, dear reader. As recently as a few months ago I would have left that meeting deeply shamed and embarrassed. I would have beaten myself up as mercilessly as a Catholic nun on her period. I likely would have never returned there to work out with the “thin” people. I would have dieted and restricted myself in guilt and fear until I could stand it no longer and then binged for days or weeks until I had gained back every ounce I had managed to drop, and hated myself even more than when I began. But that didn’t happen. Other than some mild annoyance that this guy had wasted over an hour of my time I could have been spending with my daughter at the pool, I felt nothing. I left there with my self worth, confident that it wasn’t tied to a number on a scale or a BMI reading. I left there knowing that I am an attractive, sexy, lovable woman. I left with the same plan I came with... continue to run because I love it, add in some toning exercise, eat what I want when I am hungry because to do anything else makes me a crazy woman, and I just might lose some weight in the midst of all that. Would I like to lose weight? Yes. Am I about 25-30 pounds from what I consider to be a comfortable weight for myself? Yes. Will I die if I never see that weight again? No.
This shift in thought and mindset represents a huge milestone for me. It comes with decades of struggle and pain that I know many women can identify with. I no longer feel the need to nail myself to the cross because my body isn’t the right shape or size. It is such a relief and such a joyful feeling that I just can’t keep it to myself!
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