Cybersex

When I came online 5 1/2 years ago it was about finding an outlet for my sexuality. I discovered cybersex. In a big way. I also discovered that I leaned more and more toward Dominance and submission. The men I liked were Dominant. And I loved and got off on submission. Eventually I wasn't interested unless it was going to be D/s.

I don't think I was all that discriminating at first. I was so excited by it. It was novel and I loved, loved, loved being desired and someone, anyone telling me what to do. I remember the thrill of meeting someone new and chatting with them, as we flirted and sized each other up, both of us wondering whether I would do what he told me.

I played with men and women, and boys of course. So many boys, 18-24. I truly don't think that I played with anyone under 18. I tried to be careful about that, but of course in chat it's almost impossible to tell. I preferred men, but there were dominant women who turned me on lots.

I met my Dom not too long after I discovered cybersex, but for a while he was just my favourite of many. And I became that for him too over time.

Not long ago I found a blog by a girl who gets off on stripping online. Her blog focuses on that. Finding it gave me a little thrill. What a bad girl. Someone who liked what I liked. Used to like.

Because I don't do that anymore. My Dom hated what he called me "whoring around the internet". So I stopped. Not because I thought it was tacky or wrong or immoral. Because actually I loved it, found it incredibly liberating, and always got off, as she says she does. I stopped because he wanted it and I wanted to please him. So I stopped, but only for a while I imagined. I thought I would stop for a while and he would realize that he trusted me and didn't mind. But that didn't happen and now I don't do it. I think its been so long I have forgotten how. And I would be embarrassed now by what a slut I felt. But wow, I loved it then.

And there's more. Ohhh, so much more to my history of online sex with strangers. But what I wanted to write first was this, and see how shocked you all are. I feel like I am outing myself in front of friends and family. I was an internet ho. I had cybersex with strangers. It's something that people don't talk about much, maybe none of you have done it.

But it has been a bit liberating deciding to tell it here. This blog that I started so that I could explore myself became a place where I was concerned with what you would all think. Somehow I became like a proper suburban matron, worried you would think I was a slut. Imagine if I hadn't always been strictly monogamous? What would people think?

"I Cheated..."

I just read a story about a man standing on a streetcorner during rush hour, wearing a huge sign that says "I cheated. This is my punishment". He says his wife found evidence that he had cheated and made him do this. He says his girlfriend had made him send her an incriminating photo.

It seems this man is submissive. And I think his wife, his Domme, has a mean streak.

Would my Dom do this to me?

What do you think of the public aspect of this?

I do think this is wrong. But maybe I can't put my finger on why. They are both consenting adults. And there is nothing specifically sexual about it. But it seems wrong to me.

What do you think?

Politics

Last night, after a day of pain and love, just as I wanted to curl up with him and tell him how much I adore him, he wanted to talk politics.

I am starting to hate politics.

He is an American republican, on a tear about the proposed health care legislation. I am a Canadian liberal, and believe that everyone has the right to health care in countries as wealthy as ours.

We don't fight about much. He won't allow it. But he will allow, and even seems to want to argue politics with me all the time. He goes off on republican rants with increasing frequency. He picks fights with me about health care, about Obama, about anything that he sees as a liberal position. And I feel like the poster child for liberal philosophy. He seems to come to me with anything that he sees as the liberal enemy and expects me to wear it, own it, defend it.

It's confusing in a relationship where I am typically not permitted to voice strong disagreement. He doesn't expect me to agree with everything he says, but he has always been clear that he doesn't want to fight about it, doesn't even want to hear about it after a while.

And yet I know that he feels I have every right to my own ideas on this and to express them as often as I want, as forcefully as I want. So the problem here isn't him it's me. Well except for the fact that he is a republican. :)

Often I whine about him restricting me. But in this case I am restricting myself. It makes me so uncomfortable to argue with him. And last night we were arguing. I got mad as he pointed out. I did. I think he was mad too. And I think somehow that's a bad, scary, potentially dangerous place for me to be with him.

I dunno. Comments?

And it makes me sad that Teddy Kennedy died.

Psychology

Thursday night he said to me that he hadn't given me a lot of pain lately. Oh there has been pain, it's a constant on the menu, but not a real pain session. And then, with only a little time to ponder that, he took us there.

His favourite kind of pain focuses on my nipples. It's a huge turn on for him to know that I submit knowingly to pain and it seems to be a bigger turn on that it's my nipples he is torturing. He thinks that they are pretty without enhancement, but lovelier when enhanced with pain.

So Thursday night he gave me pain.

And then again on Friday.

And then again on Saturday.

By Saturday morning I was looking for an escape, for anything that might distract him from hurting me more.

Because at first when he let me know he was going to hurt me a lot I was anxious and excited. And then I was so into it, floating on the pain, loving it. And then I was stupid with it as it progressed further, dazed. And wanting even more, wanting more than I can take. In that stage I want him to break me with it.

And then of course I always get to the point where it's too much, where I want it to stop, where it overwhelms me. Where I just want it to stop. Need it to stop. Where everything on my body hurts, even little things and I just want it all to stop.

And even then he can make me want it, if he wants it. And that's the important thing. I want what he wants. I want to give him whatever he wants. If he tells me I am a good girl, or whatever variation of that he chooses to use, he can make me take more, even want more. His encouragement can be huge to me, but I think it's his determination that pushes me though it. I don't think it ever occurs to him that I might balk, might refuse, might demand he stop.

This weekend there were few encouraging words. He was stern, demanding, cruel. For part of it he was punishing me. I took it, the pain cocktail he mixes for me. I was relieved when he ran out of time and had to stop.

I'm not sure if he was done; I suppose I'm not sure if he won't come back to it even now.

And I don't want it anymore. My body is sore and tired from days of pain. But he could make me take it of course. By demanding it. Or he could make me ask for it, even want to give it, by stroking me. What a mind fuck that is.

sin

Abandonment

In the comments to my last post Jill wrote "I have been reading your blog and even though I have not quite finished all of it there seems to be some recurring point here where he keeps some distance and you feel utterly abandoned and unloved. Is he possibly trying to get some point across?"

Umm, yes he is. When he punishes me he wants me feeling punished, miserable. He thinks it's a better lesson that way.

I think I shouldn't need to be punished, but that's old news. I'm certain I have written about that before.

And why do I fall for it each time? I do know he loves me, cares about me, wouldn't abandon me. But each time he does it I am crushed and yearn for him to love me and pet me.

I haven't been like this since high school, needing the immediate attention of my lover, needing the immediate reassurance that he still loves and wants me. I really don't have abandonment issues in my real life.

Is it the D/s relationship that does this to me or is it specifically my relationship with him? I have no idea for all my D/s has really been with him.

I think it's because I make myself so vulnerable to him. I am so open to him, he knows me so well, because I let him in. Somehow all that makes it a bigger rejection when he rejects me. It's the real me he is rejecting then, not the shell of me that most people see.

Comments?

Some good, some bad

Sorry I haven't written but I have been away on vacation at the beach, in the best weather of the summer, hot, sunny, fabulous.

That was the bright sunshiney part, so if that's all you want to read today, I suggest you quit now.

I have been struggling with my submission with my Dominant. I have been in trouble and punished. Minor offenses, but punished and humiliated, lessoned and made to apologize.

I feel crushed and weepy. I think he's fine with that. There's probably power in that for him too. I know there was power in making me crawl back with an apology, knowing how reluctant I was to do that.

And I could write a long email, full of 'He said, She said' to tell it all in excruciating detail. But I will spare you all but this summary.

I want to feel sexual again, but its really hard. Part of the punishment was that he took away my orgasms. Well, that was the official punishment. But the fact is that he also kept me at arms length, not playing with me, not making me feel sexual or attractive or loved.

So recovering my sexuality is hard. In this case, he knows it will be hard, expects it even, because he knows me well. He has told me to masturbate and cum today, once. I haven't done it yet. I'm not interested.

I just feel bruised emotionally. Sorry for the blue post.

The Aftereffects

You would think that pain like he gave me yesterday would last into today and maybe tomorrow and maybe even longer. But it doesn't. Not with those clover clamps. Not with most of my clamps actually.

The pair that lasts the longest, where the pain lasts the longest, are my first pair of clamps, a regular old adjustable set. I love them. Maybe they are my favourite? I love when he puts them on me, though often I think he doesn't leave them long enough, but when he does, the pain lasts ages. Which I like, feeling it the next day, even maybe the day after.

I reach my senses to feel for it. Is it still there?

Today I didn't really feel the pain from yesterday until he put a pair of wide clamps on me, with weights on them. The 2 ounce fishing weights dangling from each side. He had me go and put the clamps on, weights and all and didn't look til they were on. And they hurt hurt hurt.

Will I feel the accumulated pain tomorrow? Not sure.

Cloverclamps

Brooke asks here what clamps are my favourite and I immediately thought of my cloverclamps. Now she specifically says not cloverclamps because they are so evil, and when I read that I thought, well they are evil, maybe they aren't really my favourites. And then I got busy doing something else and forgot to respond.

And then today intervened. When Master told me to run and get my collar and my cloverclamps and my vibe I thought of Brooke's question again and asked him for his thoughts on it, wondering what he would say.

He pondered it a minute and said that maybe they really were my favourite pair sometimes because they got me where I wanted to be really fast. And that's true. They do get me there fast.

Sometimes where I want to be is knocked to my knees in pain. And those clamps do that. They take my breath away when he puts them on me.

Today, as I attached them, my hand slipped on the first one and I snapped it on my nipple. That hurt. Yep. That hurt a lot.

But it was nothing to the rest of it, as he pulled the chain of the clovers through my collar and attached them and then lay me back on the pillows so that the pain spread out though my chest.

And then played with me. Advancing and retreating. Not letting me near enough to have an orgasm til the pain started to swamp me. And then he told me that I could cum, but by then I couldn't. And then he told me that if I couldn't cum with them on he wouldn't let me cum after they were off. And then he told me that if I didn't cum he wouldn't take them off me til it was time to go.

So I worked and worked and worked at it, trying so hard to cum playing with myself as he watched me and called me slut and whore. I couldn't get there through the pain, and knowing also the pain that waited if I did cum. But I wanted those fuckers off, and I knew he wanted it, so I kept trying. And finally I did cum, crying as I did, bracing for the crushing pain on the other side of the orgasm.

He watched me as it hit, drinking up the pain he had given me. And as I started to cry and begged him to take them off me he said he knew they hurt and he would take them off when he was ready. Which he did, eventually.

So ummm, yeah, those are my favourites. Well, not right now actually. But they will be again tomorrow.

sin

Recent changes

Lately his favourite game seems to be playing with me and then stopping. He heats me up, touching my nipples, my cunt, my clit, fucking with my mind. I get hot and crazy. And once he knows I am crazy for it, he stops. He stops completely, short of letting me cum. And then doesn't come back to it.

This isn't new for him. He has always done this. Since we first met, over five years ago.

What is new is what happens next. And recently that's nothing at all. He just goes on; moves to something different. And then maybe he forgets that he left me hanging.

Sigh.

I hate that he forgets. I get that there are reasons, things in his life. I even know what they are. But I want it to be about me!

Last weekend he played with me, hurting me, using me, making me beg for pain. He made me ask for it, beg for it, and then he made me humiliate myself to beg for it. All of which was pretty damn hot for me, and for him as well I believe.

Then, he cut it off, cut me off and left me hanging. Wanting sex, wanting more pain, wanting even more humiliation. I was dying to please, dying to show him how much he owned me, dying to prove to him that I was his slut.

Saturday morning I woke up early, came downstairs to masturbate. And did the deed, only to find that it wasn't satisfying, wasn't scratching the itch that needed scratching. I was restless. Anxious.

Was I eager? God, i don't know, but I wanted him to come and be there and tell me where we were and talk about the night before and ... fuck I don't know if I wanted him to continue hurting me right where he left off or pull me into his lap or fuck me blind.

And when he arrived, hours later, he called me his little one, affectionate with me then, whatever desire that had been there the night before was gone. He was lazy, pleased with the world, on his way to the gym.

I was surprised at how bereft I felt by it. I wanted him to want me and he didn't. He was satisfied, satiated. I felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me. I wanted the game to be in the forefront of his mind and it wasn't

And when I told him I had masturbated and cum that morning he responded that he would have expected it.

I don't think I like this game.