Monthly Archives: August 2016

Interlude 2


My ample chest is flattened to the mattress, as my ass is perched high in the air. Legs form an “A” frame below me, with my sex facing the mirror. Your fingers press upon the keys of my skin, composing music of nothing more than a bundle of nerves. Your grey gaze watches as you play, while I make liquid trails over your rigid terrain. 


Empowerment Through Punishment

Mistress M 234 (2)

I find myself here as a blanket of darkness surrounds me.  My arms are bent to form perfect right angles against my back.  The soft Japanese rope silken to my skin as small plumes of flesh escape at either side of the bind.  My wrists are one atop the other, partners in the challenge of maintaining the required position.  From the ladder laced between my parallel arms spawns a woven road to an anchor point in the ceiling.  A slight ache emerges from the inflexibility of my muscles; an ache transforms into pleasure as I breathe into the binds, allowing them to become one with my own flesh.  My sight removed from me.  I now stare into a darkness that is as endless as my determination to withstand what may.  In the end, You will be proud of my will, King.  I will make You proud.

“Challenge me”, I whisper to You as You place five heavy, beautiful beads of stainless steel inside of my sex.  You seal my fate with a kiss before commanding me to spread my legs wider, marking two areas on the floor with a material I can feel on the pads of my toes.  I imagine a thick glue holds my place, unable to slip, unable to budge.  As the space between my thighs expands, I become a vice around the spheres internal.  The metal seeming to surpass my body heat, feeling like small orbs of pure sexual energy within me.  Steely, my determination to impress You.  Tight for You.  Watch what Your treasured cunt can do for You…

My walls dripping of sweet glaze.  My focus intermittently interrupted with the thud of my favorite flogger.  The scent of deer hide leather fills the room – intoxicating.  I find myself in a crux of ecstasy.  Each thud upon my athletic thighs and my thick ass transports me higher.  A drunken relaxation veils over my body as the autumn breeze.  I’m both equally vexed and utterly seduced.

My stubbornness exhaled with every breath as the air smells of my obedient defiance.  You have transitioned to a device for punishment.  Oh, and You know me so well, so fluent in the language of me and my capable vessel.  You lay the gauntlet before me, my King.  With each calculated strike, my mind becomes a fogged street.  An intoxicated haze fills the space surrounding a deliberate focus, as a single beam of light through a heavy mist.  Thoughts break themselves from the ray, slightly fractionated, but the focus remains.  My head begins to bow as my body gives way onto the binds for support, my fortitude gives way to frustration as I teeter a pencil thin line – one side of temerity and the other surrender.  My head falls in acquiescence, my hair a waterfall of my succumbing pride flowing before me.  Your strong hand grips my chin as if Your hands cupped together to catch the spill, offering the liquid back to my lips.  I feel Your breath as You slowly and purposefully move your lips over my neck and to my ear.  Your words, a deep and calm whisper, grab my attention like a thunder clap that rattles through the quietest of nights:

“Beloved, you will keep your chin up.  You are my warrior, my valkyrie.  You will hold your head with pride because I am proud to have you as Mine.  Proud to have you by My side, fighting any battle life may put before us.  I’m proud to have you on My arm, to show you off to the world.  Proud to leave My mark on you, My claim inside of you.  Mine.  The punishment I give you is not to belittle or break you; My punishment is to build you up and make you stronger.  I will correct your behavior when I need to, and I will help you be better.  You are My wife, My beloved whore, My warrior and greatest ally.  Show Me how strong and capable you are, My valkyrie.  Do not let Me see you drop your chin again.”

I immediately correct, the fog lifts, and I’m standing in a meadow of absolute mental clarity.  I am Your valkyrie!  We have many conquered battles behind us and we have some wars before us.  This ax of insolence I wield at the world – this ax is not for You.  The shield I adorn keeping a true “me” from view – this shield is not for You.  Ego, the steed that carries me and rides me on high – he is not for You.  The many wounded in my wake, in the name of You and my love for You – You will never find yourself among them.  Casualties, they were far too weak for me.  I have always been strong enough for You.

Lifting my head, I note a heightened awareness of my value, my preciousness.  The heart that smolders within my chest – this heart is for You.  My flesh before You; full breasts, wide hips, physical feminine wiles, tethered and tied – My flesh for You.  The strength inside resides – Empowered by You.  I rise because I’m me.  I hold my head higher due to You.

As You continue to correct me, to build me, I will show You.  My King, look at my strength, see my devotion.  Look at what I can do for You.


Elemental

Mistress M 158 (2)

We Rest.  Our love, strewn about the bed as a decadent mess.  Legs, arms and panting bodies lie deliriously twisted among fabric rubble.  Life altering madness.  Rounded muscles and crystal blue eyes. Your beauty erases hurt and makes laughter of sighs. You are my heart’s demise. Your five o’clock shadow pressed to my supple breast.  Hands trail, fall and rise, until they tangle in tendrils spread like tentacles atop a sea of bamboo sheets.  High on emotion, my body reels.  The dew upon our bodies glisten in the faint moon light permeating the window. A liquid bead upon breast, a bead upon thigh.  Your nature runs from within me, between my folds, making small hurdles of taught skin below.  A tiny pool forms beneath the crevasse of my ass.  You and I, as much here as anywhere.  Euphoria rises from our bodies, twists and turns high above our post orgasmic coma.  Like smoke and air, we entangle, we drift into a weightless bliss.  Our smell, small particles waltzing partnered in the air.  The sweet aroma of You and me, dispersed into the room as pollen from the bloom.   In this moment You and I are three physical states of matter; we are solid, we are liquid, we are air.


Breath of Surrender

“With the fingers of my dearest ally, passionate lover and forever King both wrapped snugly around my throat and thrust deep inside of me, I breathe in His Dominance.”

This morning, I was pinned against a wall in my bathroom with a hand to my throat.  The strong fingers of his right hand were wrapped tightly around my neck, while the digits of his left hand were penetrating deeply into the plush flesh of my vagina.  My nipples were aching, erect, and the beautifully metal bars that adorned through my flesh glistened in the bathroom light as I thrust them higher into the air.  Weak at the knees, a slight bend caused the length of his fingers to breach me deeper.  I relaxed into his hand’s embrace around my throat.  I allowed my breath to grow shallow as I reveled in the sound of my lusty heartbeat in my temples.  A steady, beautiful beat of surrender.  A seductive paradox: a hard, cold wall pressed to my back; a temperate and utterly satisfied soul lies encapsulated within a sweltering and lascivious body.  His asphyxiation is a warm blanket to my sexuality in which I find complete comfort.  His restraint is my rapture.

I was once pressed against a wall with a forearm to my throat.  I felt little fear in this instance, however, I was not safe.  I looked into the shallow eyes of a man in which dominance was something feigned.  The increasing pressure at my throat was an act of desperation intended to quell my protest.  Yet, my protest persisted.  Raising my chin higher, I looked down my nose to the spineless man and uttered in a hoarse voice, “You are an embarrassment to real men.  You are nothing but a little pussy.”  In this moment, I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next.  Keep in mind, we were not operating within any type of BDSM dynamic.  We were simply a toxic couple whereby his abusive behavior was his way of attempting to control me, and my antagonistic attitude was my method for establishing my inability to be controlled.

I have always had a thirst for dominance from the time I was young.  Dominance was something enigmatic to me.  A specter in the night whilst I traipsed in the shadows of insecure men’s souls.  My quest for dominance was akin to a hunger pang where you can’t quite pin exactly what would satisfy your craving, but you know you must have that certain, “something”.  I would later learn that a little “something” was actually a whole dynamic that I needed to center my sexuality around.  I identify as closely with being a submissive to Him as one would identify as being gay, straight, bisexual etc.  My sexuality is interwoven with my submissiveness; but, I had no idea I needed this dynamic until I met my King.

Prior to Him I was destroying men in their vain attempts to control me.  A free spirit “firefly” whereby they would temporarily trap me within their glass jars until my spark would no longer ignite.  A lioness in a mesh net.  A pit viper in a shoebox.  A siren to a slew of hopeless seamen.  No man could possess me.  No man could turn me to a kept pet.  No man solidified my commitment.  Until Him.

With the fingers of my ally, passionate lover and forever King both wrapped snugly around my throat and thrust deep inside of me, I breathe in His Dominance.  I relax into the embrace that never harms me.  I relinquish control to the Man who never forced my surrender.  I give full ownership to the only man able to possess me.  The only Alpha to trump my own.  My King.

His warm breath exhaled against the lobe of my ear as he moans, “mine”.  His kiss upon my lips.  His body pressed against my skin.  Hunger satiated.

His.


Interlude 1

My diamonds are at home. He cleverly hid them from me as punishment for leaving the house sans wedding rings yesterday. Yet, my collar graces my neck in a way more personal than a wedding band surrounds the finger…

People put so much stock in marriage – the crux of commitment, intimacy and trust; yet, so many marriages are without all three. I have never cared for marriage much, finding little connection to the union.  Being married never made me feel committed. In fact, I have only been able to commit to one man, no matter what my marital status had suggested.

I feel my marriage is an afterthought by comparison to the commitment I have to serve and obey my King, who is also my husband. My marriage has been reinforced by our lifestyle. Our marriage enhanced by my servitude and his personal conviction to cherish what is His. His because we choose, regardless of the piece of paper between us.

Society recognizes the rings on my finger as a symbol for marriage. The same metal and stone combination that grace the finger of the vast majority of women. Only a few people would recognize my collar as my commitment to serve. Both bring me great pride to wear. Both are a symbol of my devotion, eternally.

However, I prefer the “weight” of my collar.