The Doorbell

This afternoon I was lying on the couch masturbating. I was reading porn on my computer and playing with myself with this little finger vibe I have.

Master came on line, and we chatted briefly and he told me that I could keep masturbating. But that I wasn't to cum until he came back and could watch me.

He watched for a little while, went away, came back, watched again. He asked me if I was enjoying the story, I said I was. A naughty prison story. God I have trashy taste.

I was getting turned on reading the story and eventually I asked if I could cum. He said no, keep doing what you're doing. So I did.

He went away again, came back, and I asked to cum again. He asked me where I was, on a scale of 1-10, and I said I was at about an 8, and he said, great, keep going, that he wanted me to stay between an 8 and a 9.

So I kept masturbating, he kept watching me, and then he said, "damn, the doorbell" and he vanished.

So I lay there, touching, reading, and arousing myself. And I got to the point where if I kept going even a second longer I knew I was going to cum. So I stopped, and let things cool down just a little. And then went back to it, because I wanted it, but even more because he told me to stay between 8 and 9. I read some more, touched some more.

I switched vibes, because my little finger vibe ran out of batteries.

I masturbated, read, stopped a while, then continued. And after what seemed like FOREVER, but was probably half an hour or so he returned. Someone had come to the door, bad timing. He didn't say why. I didn't ask. I can't imagine they found him very welcoming today.

When he came back I asked to cum again. God I needed it bad by that point. And he asked where I was on the scale and I told him I was at 9, and I think he was so pleased to find me right where he had left me that he allowed it.

As soon as he said I could cum I started to. As I started he was saying "if you were really that close you shouldn't take long at all..." and I was all but done. God it was fast. Because of course I had been lying there reading my dirty prison story and stroking my clit and humping air for an hour.

I can't imagine they found him welcoming at all. I wonder what they wanted?

Humbled

We've had little time together lately, and even less time alone together. And he commented today that it was nice to spend time with me even when we couldn't be private or intimate.

Which got me thinking about intimacy. And eventually resulted in me saying that I was basing my behaviours on the assumption that we wouldn't be intimate.

What I really meant was two things. That I was submissively (or maybe just passively) following his lead, and that I was pretty much resigned to little or no intimacy until his circumstances change. So really it wasn't a very positive comment on my part.

His response surprised me. He said to me "I don't think you should ever assume that I am going to be intimate with you."

Which rocked me back a little. Cause I have been so sweet (or so passive, one or the other), or at least so accepting of less time, less intimacy. I half expected praise and instead got not a rebuke, but at least a warning.

Don't presume. It's still his way. He'll only use me if he wants me and he doesn't necessarily want me. Don't get cocky.

I don't think he said it to rebuke me or because he is dissatisfied with me. I think he said it because he can. To humiliate me a bit. To show me what he thinks of as my place. To set expectations where he thinks they should be.

But honestly for years I have kind of assumed that he would want to use me, play with me, be sexual with me. I'm not always right, but I'm almost always ready and willing if he wants me. So it's a shock to have him say that to me.

I doubt it's a change in the status quo, not really. But a little shock to me to hear it nonetheless.

It was humiliating. Humbling. Not really in a good, sexy, hot way. At least not from my perspective.

And I'm not sure what he thought or intended when he said it. Maybe he wanted to rock me back and humble me. Or maybe it was far more casual than that. I didn't pursue it much, beyond clarifying that that's really what he meant to say.

I didn't pursue it because I was a little hurt and humiliated. And of course I tried to hide that. A girl has her pride. Even a subgirl.

And if he hadn't meant it that way, though I think he did, or if he had just expected me to roll with it, which was likely true, he doesn't want me pouting over it.

So ummm.... I'm humbled.

Edit: He says that he made a huge mistake in communication today and what he meant to say was "I don't think you should ever assume I am NOT going to be intimate with you."

So ummm... that sort of changes everything. And it sort of doesn't. He says that sometimes he would mean to say exactly what he said. And intend me to take it that way, and to be humiliated and humbled. He says that he decides what we do and when. Not me.

But he also said that today he meant to say that I should pretty much assume that he wants to use me. Which I find reassuring. Because it's what I do assume, have always assumed. It might not make everyone happy but it's one of the solid foundations of our relationship. And yes, perhaps that's humiliating too, but in a way that's better for me.

And I really have been good, and understanding about how little attention and sex there's been. It was a slap to think that I needed to scale my expectations back even further.

He apologized for the miscommunication. And he said that he wondered why my whole mood changed at that point as I tried to process what he had said. And he says that he loves me vulnerable to him (duh!) but that he tries not to abuse the vulnerability, while exploiting it at times.

So ummm... confusing, eh?

Old Friends

My Dom is out tonight. H is at a Conservative shindig - that's what Conservatives call their gatherings isn't it?

And I was bored and went to Flickr, and was trying to figure out how to get my friend's photos of my New Years Eve party onto my Facebook account, without just pointing at the Flickr account. Everybody with me so far? And I couldn't figure out how to do it.

So I wound up in my gmail account, which I never ever go to. And found some neat stuff there. For one thing, when my Dom responds to the messages that blogger sends him to tell him there's a post here, he apparently responds to my gmail. So there were about 5 messages from him over the past month. So that was kind of neat. I liked that.

And a Dom from long ago who is my gmail friend was online. So I messaged him and we chatted. It was fun. Gosh I haven't talked to him in ages. He is young, and fun. And I met him online about 6 years ago when I first chatted online. And I was crazy about him.

Things between us faded, for various reasons, and we reconnected a couple of years ago, when I introduced him to a friend of mine who switches. They hit it off brilliantly but briefly because both of them are brilliant. And I think they spent their relationship wrestling to see who would be on top. I enjoyed them together. They were fun and funny.

So tonight was fun, chatty, flirty. He is in India and was just waking up. We caught up on lots of news. He is dating a Mormon. Yes in India. He says she likes bondage but isn't into pain or humiliating. Or at least not yet he says.

And he gave me technical help, which he always did, back in the day. And now I know how to copy a pic from Flickr to somewhere else.

It whiled away the hours. Well, one of them anyway. And now I am less bored. Happy to have reconnected with my friend. And ready to go do something constructive.

Greed

Our time together lately has been so limited. And we are both greedy for each other. Today, instead of our regular Tuesday together we knew we would get little time, but hoped to snatch some.

Mid afternoon we were both free, and rushed together. He stripped me naked, put my collar on me and had me kneel. I was in a hurry, wanted to go faster, to go as fast as we possibly could. He made me stop, close my eyes, breathe, and feel owned, feel the weight of the collar around my neck, feel my submission.

So I did stop, as ordered, and just feel.

I felt chilled, the cool air on my skin. He'll smile at that. I'm always cold now.

I felt the comfort of the position, kneeling with a pillow (what luxury), knowing though, that the comfort was likely to run out before his interest in having me there did.

I felt the weight of the collar on my neck, the restraint of it, the limitation of it. The cool texture of the leather, holding me. I feel special wearing it. I feel treasured. His.

I felt my breath slowing, responding to his order to just slow down and feel it. Controlled. Obedient. Ordered.

I felt owned. God I love him owning me.

And then he put the clover clamps on my nipples, and chuckled a little as I gasped. He commented that my nipples weren't as used to the pain now as they were sometimes. And I could tell that he loved my tenderness and sensitivity.

He put the vibrator between my legs, and started playing pleasure and pain. A minute of pain, just pain, and then a minute of pleasure mixed in with the pain. That cycle repeated again and again. His eyes on me, drinking in my pain. His voice, ordering this and that.

The pain filling me, and the pleasure too. Wanting them both but especially the pain. Wanting to take the pain, share it with him. Knowing how much we both needed it. For him to give and me to take.

It's such an important place of connection for us, and something we have missed lately.

And today it was there.

I asked for more pain, not wanting to lose it too soon. His voice deepened as he told me to repeat the request, to beg him. I asked again. glorying in the knowledge that he loved me wearing those clamps and his collar, that he was wild having me kneel in front of him that way, wanting more pain.

After the task he had assigned was over he had me take off the clamps. Omg that hurt, taking them off, my poor swollen nipples. And then he had me run them through the ring of my collar. They hung between my tits, a reminder of the pain, dangling, scraping against my breasts, causing more pain.

And then he had me reattach them to my nipples, pulling my tits up this time. Crueler. Especially on already sore and swollen nipples. My sadist. He couldn't just settle for pain, he needed bigger pain.

And then he had me spread my legs wide and masturbate. The pain of the clamps in my nipples grew and grew, and I kept wanting to say to him, please don't stop yet, don't stop hurting me yet, don't stop for hours, hurt me hurt me HURT ME.

But some remnant of sanity kept me from saying that, knowing that I would certainly regret it very soon after saying it. Knowing that egging on the already aroused sadist can be disastrous.

I was so greedy for it though, wanting more and more. Needing more. Needing to please. Wanting to crawl, wanting him to use me, break me, make me cry.

He came, watching me, talking to me, telling me I was a pain slut, and how much I needed this. A huge orgasm. I said to him as the cum poured out of him that He needed this too, just as much as I did.

After his orgasm, it was back to me, my pain, deepening. I wondered if I would be able to cum, as the pain grew bigger, sometimes the pain blocks the ability to cum. But then I knew I would, realized I was close. Asked permission and was granted it, and he watched me cum, his eyes intent on me, watching for the pleasure, and for the pain that crashes in on me on the heels of that. He is so greedy for the pain. Sadist.

Then he left the clamps there. And left me on my knees. Both of which hurt immensely by that point. Yes of course the clamps hurt more but the knees are right up there after kneeling for ages. He told me to be patient. That he knew what I needed. Everything in good time. Which means everything in his time. Eventually he took them off, and I do love that he does it when he wants to, and not when I want him to. Well sometimes I love that.

Today I loved everything. It was rushed, and we were greedy for it, both so damned greedy. And it was good. We are so good together, so perfectly matched, so hot. We take big gulps and try not to choke on how fast it goes down.

Despite limited time, limited access, life is good. My glass is pretty damned full.

Projects

I'm knitting a sweater as per someones suggestion. I think it was Nilla who made the suggestion, but am too lazy to go and check. And that same kind of lazy inattention to detail means that I have about 5 inches of the back that I started and happily knit before actually measuring and confirming that it will be miles too big.

I need smaller needles. My knitting is too loose. That's probably not all either, she said, going for a lame pun.

When you knit you are supposed to do a test square to make sure your tension is correct, and if it isn't you either adjust the pattern or your knitting needle size. I find that boring. So I don't really do it. And then my knitting isn't right, so I never finish anything.

So I need to start over again. Sigh. First I need to go find the smaller needles. Bigger sigh. Maybe I will just read some more of my book.

It is pretty though. At least I know that. And I will go find the other needles as soon as I finish this post.

After this project (if I ever do finish this, I really have a bad record of completion with knitting) I want to do an embroidery project. Marci has inspired me. Hi Marci. I'm glad you unlurked the other day.

My Dom says I am not patient. He announces it like it's news to either of us. Not. He says that if he could order patience this time he would. I wish he could too.

OK, going to look for needles. Stay tuned for the next gripping installment of Sin Turns to Crafts.

Breath

In yoga there's a lot of focus on breath. And while you are sitting there, breathing, focusing on breathing, there's not a lot else to think about. And of course, being yoga, you aren't supposed to be thinking about anything. But sometimes I do anyway.

Today we did various breathing exercises: the calming breath, then the bumblebee breath, where you hum as you exhale, then finally some pranayama breathing where you rapidly exhale, short rapid bursts.

And by the time we got to the end of the rapid exhales I realized that breath games must be exciting because of the dizziness and maybe increased blood circulation. There's an exhilaration, a euphoria, and then relaxation.

And that's all without the sense of danger that some people play with. Or the sense of pain, of pushing too far. Or the thrill that comes from power exchange.

This is just stuff that you can get on your way to meditation or health.

I know lots of people play with breath, and I really have not. So, the play part I know little or nothing about, as you can probably tell! And I admit I have always seen it as something scary, not something that would bring euphoria.

Who can tell me more? Or point me at a resource that would tell me more?

Emotions

I am an emotional eater. I think I always have been. I eat when I'm happy. I eat when I'm sad. I eat when I'm bored, or frustrated, or nervous. I eat when I'm scared. I used to smoke at all those times, so I suppose that eating is better than that, but it's a problem.

I'm trying to diet (still and forever) and getting pretty close the weight I want to weigh. But I can't seem to get down the last few pounds. I am on a strict diet. And lately I've been cheating. And I have various reasons, and some excuses. The reason is that I'M HUNGRY. But I was hungry before too, and I survived and didn't cheat. I think it's harder to motivate myself because I actually love the way that I look now (except for the fact that my tits have dwindled to a shadow of their former splendor).

And I'm worried about my relationship with my Master at the moment. His personal life has changed recently. And though I hope the change is only temporary, at the moment he doesn't have the time to spend maintenancing me. And I'm blue, because I'm selfish, and I worry that the change won't be temporary. And that's worrying because this is my Master we are talking about here and I adore him. And I know I can't be demanding and get it. Especially since the change is very recent. Did I say that already? I know I have to be grown up about this. And patient. And shit. So I am. And yet not.

So, having just come from the fridge (and no I didn't eat everything, but I did cheat again), it's clear that I need to find some other outlet for my frustration with the situation. I need to knit or do embroidery or run. And I need to resolve to stay out of the kitchen.

Anyone want to offer a pep talk or suggestions?

"I could make you hate it"

Why would he make me do something I hated? What would be the point of that?

Power of course. And control. He came back with the answer so fast. It was simple for him. Obvious. Power. Control. Some of the same things he gets from giving me too much pain.

It turns him on because he makes me do it. Because he knows I don't want to, and that he can make me. At some point that's what it's all about.

In the long term he wants me to like what he does with me. He wants me satisfied, happy, with him and with our relationship.

But in the short term sometimes there's a value to making me hate something, making me dread it, want to avoid it. Too much pain, too much humiliation, too much control.

While I love his control over me, sometimes it becomes too much. Too micromanage-y, too personal, too humiliating. (He would say it can't be too personal.) Sometimes it grates. Sometimes I want privacy, want to get away and hide myself from him, pull into my shell, like a turtle. I want to protect myself from him. But it's rare that he would permit that.

My best example is piss. He knows I'm private about piss. So sometimes he likes to watch me piss. I want to be in the bathroom with the door closed and locked. He wants to watch the piss actually leave my body. Partly because he wants to know everything about me, and how my body and mind work. And partly just because he knows I hate it. We have spent some long afternoons in the bathroom with me trying to force my body to piss on command. And for him the thrill is power.

Pain is a regular component of our play. He uses some degree of it with me all the time, daily, and I eat it up. It's one of the regular turn-ons for me. Nipple pain in particular. It's a way that he signals to my mind through my body that he's going to play with me, and it's time to turn on. It's a very conditioned response at this point, he demands and I turn on. It doesn't work every single time but it's pretty consistent. And when he plays with me with just pleasure, and then adds a little pain it increases my arousal. And then sometimes we play more specifically with pain, and of course I love that. For all kinds of subbie reasons like pleasing him, and wanting to show him that I will do whatever he wants, along with just being aroused.

On occasion he pushes past all that, and just hurts me. Hurts me way beyond what he knows I like. Or has me do it to myself. Because he loves that he can make me do it, make me take it, make me lick it up. He loves the tears and the protests and the obedience.

The Power. The Control. The Dominance. That would be the point of making me hate it.

A Community of Readers

I've read a couple of posts here and here that talked about comments. And they are so very eloquent that I really think you should go and read them both. But I know you won't all do that so let me try to summarize.

Both of them write about the low value placed on erotica by the purchasing public. There is so much free erotica (and/or porn) that people are reluctant to buy it, which lowers the price paid for it by publishers.

I love porn and erotica btw, and have bought it, and love getting off to it. And often the dirtier the better. I agree that it can be embarrassing to purchase, and that in that way getting it free on the Internet is better.

And their point is that if we don't have to pay for the literature they write for us, the least we can do is take a minute and acknowledge it by commenting. Which made me stop and pay attention. Because I don't often comment on porn and/or erotica. Umm, I might on erotica, but probably never on porn.

And I don't know why I don't because I blog and I know how much I appreciate getting comments. And I know that effort goes into writing and editing what writers write. A lot more time and effort goes into the writing than into the reading. So they are right, the least I can do is say what I think. Especially if I like it. Right?

I do understand that often readers think they have nothing to add. Some are reluctant to say something that might sound mundane. Some feel that the writing is so perfect that their words will seem trite or silly (okay not here, but in general, right?) Some don't want to disagree. Some don't want to just ditto what the guy above them said. Some feel shy, too shy to comment on anything. And many are deterred by sites that require that they leave an email address.

I admit that often I have started to write something and then thought, oh that sounds silly, and deleted it rather than posting a comment. I do that with blogs too.

And I admit that there are writers who don't want to hear the "yes, me too" or "right on" comments. But I think there are more writers who want to hear what their readers think.

It also made me think that while I write partly for myself, I also write to connect with other people here. I write to try out my ideas for myself. Kind of thinking out loud. But I also am trying them out in the community of people who read here. My community is you. And in case you have any doubts, I want very much to hear what you think, why you think it, and anything else you want to say.

So if this provokes anyone at all to comment here or somewhere else, that's good I think.

And in case you are wondering why I never comment on porn, I think it's because I am embarassed to be reading it. And what would I say? "I really liked this and got off to it"? Umm, I guess I could. After all, that's probably why they wrote it, right?

And thanks for reading. Even you quiet ones.

A Trashy Diva?

I found a lingerie store called The Trashy Diva which has beautiful lingerie, some standard stuff and some handmade beautiful things and some real corsets. I love lingerie and spend lots of time yearning over it, but it's rare to see real corsets. I had seen them in the same store a year before and wanted one but they are very expensive. Real corsets range in price from about $250 up. And these ones were priced from $280-$395.

And when I saw them a year ago I wasn't very happy with my body and made a deal with myself that I would lose some weight and improve my body and buy one next time in a size that I would be happier with. I have lost a bunch of weight now and wanted one of the corsets.

I went into the store and looked through the other lingerie, edging towards the corsets. The salesclerk asked if she could help me and I said I wanted to look at the corsets and she explained them to me. The sizing and the lacing and how to clean them.

They had different styles, some just waist cinchers, some covering the breasts as well, and some with cups that really define the breasts. The corsets are real corsets with steel stays, like they used to wear, and they are heavy duty, made to be pulled and tightened, reducing waist size by 4-6 inches depending on your endurance. She said they should feel tight but not painful. And its probably best if you have someone to do it up for you. Servants presumably? She explained that the corset should be open 2-3 inches in back.

And then she helped me try one on. She was alone in the store, and I was the only customer. I am not sure how I wound up trying one on over a t-shirt. I know it would have been her suggestion, but I don't know if she made it because she thought it would save my modesty, or if it was because she knew it would take ages and didn't want to be away from the store front that long. In any case I did try two on over my thin black t-shirt and jeans.

So this pretty young woman in the store laced my corset up for me. The first one was black satin with a sweetheart neckline which emphasized my breasts and made my waist fabulously small. I am still surprised by things looking great on me anyways after my weight loss; this corset looked fantastic. The second was red brocade, and I loved the colour but it was a different style which didn't show my boobs as much, in fact it flattened them a bit, though showed lots of cleavage as it pushed them up. So I liked the black one better.

And then I debated, standing in the store, with my breathing restricted. It wasn't painful but was uncomfortable. They restrict movement and you feel it with every breath. I could feel the pressure of the corset on my rib cage, restricting deep breaths entirely. And of course I would struggle to lace it by myself.

And it was expensive. So how much would i wear it? I thought about wearing it in public, under a low cut jacket or over a blouse or a dress or a shirt. Or maybe with jeans.

But in the end I didn't get it. Because the thing is that it's lingerie. And it's beautiful. And I want it to be sexy and sultry and seductive. Although I would never wear it except as lingerie really. Because I am afraid of being thought too sexy, sultry or seductive. Or just plain too slutty. And I loved the idea of how limiting it was, and how restrictive. And how utterly impractical. Because it really was utterly impractical. And the practical me won again.

Maybe someday. I did get further than I ever have before, in trying them on, in knowing how they feel, how they look. Maybe someday.

Absence

The big mean clamp was on my right nipple. He told me to raise the chain with one hand, pulling my breast up by the nipple. Higher he said, watching it deform my breast. And then told me I could masturbate with my other hand.

And then the phone rang. His phone. He had been expecting a call and answered it. As he did he told me to continue.

So I did. Touching myself, pulling the chain of the clamp up, pulling my nipple and breast up. Hurting myself for him. And turning on too as I touched.

He was watching me. And then he wasn't. He left the room. Wandered off, talking, listening. I don't even know if it was the call he was expecting.

He was gone a while. How long? God I don't know. It seemed like a while. I don't know if it was a consultation about dinner or directions to get there. Maybe it was nuclear physics or state secrets or a dirty conversation with a girl. I have no idea, because, as I said, he wandered off.

So for a little while after the phone rang, I was diligent. I rubbed and pulled and obeyed. Trying to tease him actually, trying to turn him on with the visual of naughty obedience while he was talking to someone else.

When he left I was a bit surprised. Any time he leaves me when there's pain it's usually a bad thing. It's much, much easier for me to take the pain he dishes when he is there. Otherwise there doesn't seem to me to be much point to it. Is this making any sense? Maybe only to other masochists?

He came back at some point. Glanced in at me. I didn't hear him talking or see the phone. Obviously the call was over. I made sure he saw I was obeying. I sat straight, pretty, sexy. Desirable right? When I looked again he was gone. Different call? The same one? Something completely different? I have no idea.

But this time, somehow the humiliation thing kicked in. And it was exciting to obey and hurt myself at his order while he was off doing whatever "important business" had taken him away. The thrill of blind obedience, of slavish, humiliating obedience was all over me. Heating me with a blush, with sex, with humble adoration.

I held the chain as high as when he had left. I touched with enthusiasm. I was into it. And when he came back, with no explanation for where he had been or why or with whom, he asked me how I had felt.

I was inarticulate I think. I managed to convey that I hadn't minded. He commented that I usually do mind. Reminded me that I prefer the pain when he is there. I agreed but said that this time had been different.

So he made me cum.