Writing porn

A couple of posts ago I said that maybe I should post porn if I had nothing to write about in my real life. He liked that idea and said that I should submit themes to him and he would tell me what to write on.

I didn't like the idea much because really it will embarass the hell out of me to have you read what turns me on.

However, as he points out so often, it's not really about what I like.

He has asked me to post my list of themes here first so that you can comment or vote on what I should write about. Although of course HE will decide.

You will note that they aren't detailed at all. Feel free to add some detail, or even propose a completely different theme. Maybe it will find its way into a story.

The general themes offered for consideration are:

sex with strangers
pain
humiliation
piss

Any preferences?

Restrictions

On Saturday he took control of my orgasms away from me.

And today I want one.

If he was around I would ask him for one. And he might say yes or he might say no. But he isn't reachable so I can't ask.

So it's a moot question, for today at least, whether he would say yes or no. I can't get to him to ask. So that's a no.

But it's not even a no that he thought about and wants to impose on me. It's a no of circumstance.

It's a dark rainy, grey day and I want to eat chocolate cake or fuck, but I would settle for masturbating.

I need a new hobby.

Orgasm Denial

This past couple of weeks He and I haven't had much time or much privacy, thus the series of fairly dull blog entries. Sorry to all of my readers. Maybe during the next dry period I should make things up, perhaps write some porn for you?

Given these constraints we have nevertheless had several conversations that I would describe as sexual and exploratory.

One of them was about orgasm denial. He had read a blog piece about it and wanted to talk to me about it. Mostly because he knows that I struggle with it enormously. Sometimes I like it. Umm, in theory. Because I like that he is in charge and that I can't manipulate him and get whatever I want. I like that he is strong enough to go against what I want.

But I hate orgasm denial. I want to touch and masturbate and cum when I want to. Obviously if we are playing, scening, I can't cum when I want but that's OK, because its part of whatever game is being played then. What I don't like is when he takes control of my orgasms and then does nothing with them. He forgets or seems to forget that he has something of mine that's important to me. That makes me crazy.

Or when he uses denial to punish me.

In fact it always seems a bit like a punishment to me. And it turns me into a sulky teenager. I find myself furious that he takes this away from me. It's like being grounded or suspended or something. I get all huffy and think about how it isn't fair.

There's power there for him of course. More power because he knows how much it bugs me, and that I obey because he orders it. Probably less power because I am high maintenance about it. I need to know that he knows it's important to me. I need to know that he values what he holds from me.

So Friday we talked about this. And then again yesterday. Orgasm denial. Probably not a good omen when he brings it up twice in a row.

Yesterday we were chatting online. We were typing because I had family all around me, not in the room where I was but all over my house. We had webcams but no voice. He had me pan my body with the cam to show him what I was wearing, a bright pink lacy camisole and my skinniest jeans. No bra, no panties.

And then he had me pinch and pull on my nipples to turn myself on. And then after each step he had me stop and tell him how I felt. Instantly turned on and humiliated by how fast it is when he has me touch myself in front of him, and more turned on by the humiliation of it. He loves watching my face when he has me touch. He loves the sex and the power of it.

Then he had me do it again, pull on my tits some more. Pulling them back and forth, almost sawing at them. He watched me and told me what a whore I was, what a cunt.

And then he stopped me again, so that I could confess to how turned on I was as he said dirty things about me. He said that he knew I wanted to be fucked by the vibrator that was tucked in the couch cushions next to me. He knew that I wanted it in my slutty cunt, knew that I wanted to lay it on my swollen clit and hump against it. And that he knew what a desperate cunt I was right then.

And then he had me beg for cock. He made me beg him for what I wanted. Sex, pain, pleasure. He listened, considering, stroking his cock. I told him that I needed to be fucked, needed to be used, that I needed to cum. I told him I was a slut, a whore. I begged him to use me.

He didn't ignore me, he stroked his cock as I begged him. But he didn't agree. He just told me to continue to use my tits to seduce him.

I pulled down my camisole and cupped my breasts for him, showing him the milky white tits, the hard red nipples, squeezing them, rolling and pulling them , eventually sucking and biting them, all so that he would watch me and want me. And hopefully would want me enough to want to see me cum for his pleasure. He let me touch my cunt through my jeans. I was swollen, soaked. desperate.

He had me beg again. This time I was less coherent. Needier. More desperate. Less concerned with my son in the next room. I needed to cum. I needed it. I was cockily sure I wouldn't get caught, but the priority in my mind wasn't the risk it was my need.

He taunted me with risk, obstacles. My family around me, my tight jeans, the logistics of it.

Finally he agreed that I could undo my jeans. He taunted me with what a slut I was to not be wearing panties. Finally he let me touch, but not my clit, just the lips of my pussy, swollen, so wet and slippery, as he let me rub myself and then finger fuck myself, still not letting me touch my clit.

He watched me, stroking his cock. calling me cunt, whore, slut. Til finally he let me touch my clit. He let me stroke it, told me to bring myself to the edge of orgasm and then to stop and ask him for permission and hold myself there, waiting.

So I did. I got myself to the edge. I was hot, wet, needy. I rubbed and stroked and humped myself for his viewing pleasure. And I got myself right to the very edge of orgasm. And then I stopped, made myself stop, instead of falling over the edge and I typed to him, begging his permission to cum.

He taunted me, making me ask again and again, making me say specific phrases. And then finally he gave me permission, and it was gone, had slipped away. I touched again, determined to cum, stroking, rubbing, gentle, harder, desperate to cum, needing to cum. When he realized I couldn't cum right away he set a time limit on it. I had to cum in the next minute or he would stop me. I tried so hard, him calling me humiliating names the whole time, and I think delighted that I wasn't getting it back.

Eventually he stopped me. No orgasm.

And there's no recourse. No saying "you bastard you better not do this to me." That's clearly impossible. We talked. He told me how hot it had been for him. How much power.

And then he had to go. Almost right away. As he left he told me I could masturbate and cum.

I didn't do it right away. I had things I needed to get out of the way first. And by the time I came back to it, it was an hour later. Was he offended that I hadn't masturbated yet? Or was it just part of the game. He told me that he was considering taking my orgasms from me. Well first he told me he was considering it. And then asked me what i thought. I said I thought it was a terrible idea. And asked if I could have my one orgasm he had already given me first. He said he had made up his mind to do it, and that no I couldn't have my orgasm. And then he made me thank him for wanting to control my orgasms.

Later that day he let me cum. Voice and webcam this time. He hurt my tits til I was dripping for him again, stripped off my jeans and let me masturbate for him as he watched me. I was dying to cum, desperate to cum. And very aware that he might jerk it away from me at the last minute again. He came watching me.

And then as I got closer and closer he had me beg again, beg for release. Usually I am pretty sure he will let me cum, but this time I was actually pretty sure he wouldn't. Finally he said yes and let me cum, and I came so hard, denied all day, and uncertain til the last second.

And yes, then he made me thank him again.

He still controls my orgasms, no time limit on it. But he did allow me to masturbate and cum this morning when I requested it.

Face slapping

Face slapping seems to be a topic of conversation this week in blog world. I could link to a couple but am feeling lazy tonight. And I am on the opposite side of the fence from the posters I think. Because I hate the idea of it. It's not a hard limit for me. But I think it pretty unpleasant.

Slapping seems uncontrolled. Perhaps that's a funny thing for a submissive to say. But I would have no control over what part of my face he hit, or how hard or the result of it. Would it go red? Would it bruise? Would he break something in my face? Could it damage me permanently? I know that the chances of something really bad happening are very slim, but its scary to me nonetheless.

Slapping seems mean. And yes, sometimes I like mean. Slapping doesn't seem to me to be something a man does to a woman. And yet if a man was to do it to me he could potentially have a lot of power behind that hand. It's scary.

I would be more afraid of someone punching me, and I know that some couples do that too. I'm a wimp.

I don't know if he likes face slapping. I don't think it interests him. I know he likes slapping my face with his cock. But that's more about "cock power" and humiliation than anything else I think.

So what is face slapping about? What's the thrill? To me it seems that it's about power. Doing it because it's taboo and humiliates the recipient and because you can. I think there's a lot of power in doing it.

At its worst it's pain, sharp, painful, immediate. And yes I love pain sometimes, but my kind of pain, a slow with no sudden uncontrolled peaks.

I admit that it wouldn't always be full force. That it could be light slaps, meant merely to humiliate or to get my attention. But I still don't like the idea. Not good humiliation.

And there's something which likely would seem ridiculous but is real to me. The slap in the face could knock my glasses off, or break them. And my reluctance to do anything that would cause that to happen is based on my fear of not seeing. That blindness, to me, is real powerlessness.

I know it's prissy of me, and I don't usually think of myself as prissy and proper, but in this case I think I am.

Do you like it? And if so, why?

And am I crazy to post this where my Dom can read it?

Julia Child

It's Saturday night and I am reading Julia Child's autobiography, My Life in France. And liking it.

She was 6'2". That was really tall for a woman of her generation; for a woman of any generation. In the photos in the book she towers over her kind of nerdy little husband.

Have you read or seen Julie and Julia? Kind of a lame book but I read it about a year ago, and hated Julie but liked the info about Julia in it.

Why did I read it? Because I love reading books about food. Cookbooks with chatty bits work, or books about philosophy of food or about cooks. I don't know why it interests me so much because really I don't enjoy cooking, just reading about it.

Some of my reluctance to cook can be attributed to cooking for children of course. When I do spend the time it's likely to result in children refusing to eat or even to try what I have cooked. One of my kids will rush to the garbage to spit things out if I actually make him try things he doesn't want. One asks me dubiously if I have "used a recipe" when I present him with things he doesn't like. All in all, not very satisfying.

But honestly, I never liked it before kids.

I do love baking, but the last thing I need is more food temptation. And I think I am a spectacularly good baker. But then I want to eat it, and eat a bit more. Mmmm.

Anyway, Julia Child. I'm going to read more. Stay tuned.

Saturday mornings

On Saturday mornings one of my favourite things to do is to curl up on the love seat in the living room, under my fleece blanket, especially if the house is still cold. It sounds cozy and domestic doesn't it?

And I have my computer, and my favourite black vibrator, and some filthy porn. Rough porn he calls it. Something really dirty.

I lick my vibrator and rub my clit and rock into it. And I read smut til I get off.

And then I put my vibe away, where it lives much of its life, under the cushion of my couch, and pick up my book and look like a soccer mommy on a lazy Saturday morning.

Last Saturday night my husband's colleagues came to dinner and one of the wives sat on that cushion and I thought "omg, if she feels something uncomfortable there, she will reach down and find my vibrator". She didn't of course, but it did give me a bad moment.

What do you do on Saturday mornings?

Some history

A comment on a recent post made it evident to me that my expectations of other women in my relationship are all formed around a relationship I had in college.

I was part of a threesome with two really good friends of mine. The woman was the best friend I had at the time. And the man was too. I slept with him, and I slept with them, but never slept just with her.

The sex was fantastic, and the closeness and sense of intimacy was amazing.

It wasn't perfect. We fought a lot. There was jealousy and hurt. Almost all of it between me and her.

Umm, okay, some of it with him too. He did have flaws after all.

But I always knew that she loved me. I trusted her. She was friend and lover and sister and sister-wife. As I was to her.

We were close, all three of us. We lived in each other's pockets. We did everything together, and we loved the taboos of it and giggled at the speculation around us. She and I had something special, a bond that grew closer and stronger when we started sharing him.

I do understand of course that other girls who drift into my existing relationship with my Dom aren't likely to be all those things to me, or to want to be.

But I think that's probably what I am searching for and a reason I am open to the possibility I see sometimes in other women.

Current events - so many girls...

Like most men my Dom loves the idea of variety.

I think men want to fuck everyone, don't you? Maybe that's overstating things. Maybe they just think about fucking everyone. And I get that this will sound like man bashing, but it's really not. I don't take it personally (mostly!).

I do know he loves me, will come back to me. But in the meantime he wants to play with, touch, have, fuck, hurt other women. Preferably submissive women. But honestly, on some level I'm not sure he cares, he just wants them.

He sees them and they are pretty, they harden his cock and he wants them.

Some he doesn't even see, but he wants them. Girls online. Cyber girls. Blog girls who write about things that turn him on.

Recently we have had a plethora of girls in our relationship. Submissives who intrigue him; girls he wants. There's one from his past. There's one who approached him recently, offering service. There's one who has a Dom who wants to do me, and she wants to facilitate that, so she approaches him from time to time (at least I assume her Dom is part of her reason - maybe not). There is a blogger who intrigues us and who I approached for him, cause I knew he would like her.

And those are the ones I know about.

I like it. I find it exciting to know that other women want my man. I know its kind of high school but its an affirmation that he's sexy and attractive.

I find it more exciting to know that other submissives want my Dominant. I think it's a commentary on his experience, his dominance, his mind. I think they like his confidence and his power.

It's a bit humiliating for me, knowing that he can and does have other women on his radar and I am not permitted that variety. And that excites me a bit.

And yes I get jealous sometimes. When I feel threatened for some reason. And its not always attached to logic, but to my gut instincts that tell me something is bad.

Sometimes, rarely, he uses that, makes me jealous on purpose. It's one of the humiliation games he plays with me, and not my favourite one.

More often he wants to reassure me that I am not threatened, and that our relationship is important to him. He strokes me, keeps me informed, lets me in. Sometimes he tells me everything to see if I will be jealous.

Sometimes he tells me about the others to put me in my place, to let me know that although I am important to him, he is making time for someone else.

It's complicated and it's uncertain and it's exciting for me.

I actually like the idea of him having another submissive on an ongoing basis, longer term. I don't want to be displaced. I sure don't want to lose him to someone else, but I kind of like the idea of him having another. I know there would be complications there. But I want someone else to share him with. I imagine that I would be girlfriends with them. though I recognize that its unlikely we would be BFFs. But we would have something, Him, in common. That intrigues me.

sin