Master, I need to kneel
Your hands I long to feel

Around my throat
And in that “place”

Taking up all the space

Every inch
As I flinch

I beg for even more

Master, I need your grasp
So firm I gasp

My breath you take
My body quakes

And I beg for even more

Here for you,

Here to use

I beg for even more


(Picture courtesy of Pinterest)


Love Me Tender…(Bond part 3)

Monday’s here.  It was an amazing weekend.

Friday was a journey that began with sticking my toe in the pool and ended with cliff-diving into the unknown waters of submission.

Saturday was about ritual.  It was preparing an altar, myself as the offering.  Giving all.  Pure submission.

Sunday was a reflection of freedom and acceptance.  My own acceptance of the person I am.  The freedom of knowing who I am.

Let’s connect the dots on a bigger scale…

As I take this journey into submission and enlightenment, I find a recurring theme.

We all want to connect.

We all want to trust.

It is fundamental in the lifestyle.  We connect with those who are likeminded.  We seek those who share or complement our interests, our “kinks”.  We want to share with others like ourselves.

And each aspect of the lifestyle revolves around trust.  Ironically similar in the vanilla world.  The difference is we take a much more literal approach in the BDSM existence.  We literally demonstrate trust in the roles we play.

Safe.  Sane. Consensual.

I learned so much in the 6 hours I spent with Mr. Bond.  He is patient and understanding.  He understands how to get his sub to freely submit without intimidation.  He gets the vulnerability.

I found a smidge of vulnerability in him.  During one of our breaks he reflected on the name I chose for him.

“Why do you call me James Bond?”

“Because you are so dashing, Sir.  So in control.  You have the persona”

“Have you read the books, or just watched the movies?”

I had to think about this one.  I recalled reading an early book.

“So you think of me in that way?”

That way?  “What do you mean?”

Sir went on to explain that James Bond’s character was based on a real person who was ruthless in his quest to complete his mission, often killing those who stood in his way.  Far more intense than the character in the movies (especially during the Roger Moore years, I might add).

“He was a ruthless killer.  Is that how you perceive me?”

Interesting.  He wonders how I see him.  Me, the submissive, how I view him….as the consummate Dominant.

“No, Sir.  I see you as the one who truly has it together, is self-assured, self-sufficient and not afraid to push limits.”

There is so much to the D/s dynamic.  So much more than the “rules” of play, or the roles themselves, I am finding that it is also about mutual respect.  It’s about mutual trust.

When our session became acutely intense and I begged Mr. Bond to stop (intentionally not using my safe word) he would say, “Take it for me, little girl.  Say it.  Say, ‘I take it for you, Sir.'”

Sometimes I couldn’t even verbalize the words.  I didn’t feel that I had enough breath in my body left to say anything.

But I would pull myself together and do it.  I would look him in the eye and say, “I take it for you, Sir.”

And after that exchange, I always felt empowered, knowing that Bond had helped me through a limit.  And that I was okay.  I was better because of it.

Applying that to the vanilla world, wouldn’t it be nice to have someone there to help you overcome your fears?  Help you venture out of your comfort zone?

I think those of us in the lifestyle are on to something.

Unfortunately those not in the lifestyle will never understand it.

I must admit…I am a “hot mess” today.  Recovering both physically and mentally from the pure intensity of the weekend.

I am bruised on my arms, neck and chest.  I have actual bite marks all over the back of my neck, my shoulders, my feet and toes.  And I am not sure, but I think Bond may have left his initial on my backside…ever so slightly with his knife.  So hot…

But I do love the reminders.  They represent the limits we surpassed.  Maybe next time Bond will see fit to find some more discreet places to brand me :).  (It is summer.  We live in the South.  No sleeveless or ponytails for me for at least a week)

So Bond, I leave you with this…

If we play together again (and I sincerely hope we do)

Love me Tender, Sir.

I know you already know the words.

I cannot believe I am hog-tied to a table

How about that for a catchy title? 

There is truth in every word.  I was hogtied to a table.  It was a typical Friday afternoon in central Georgia.  I had taken some time off for an “appointment” and found myself in a hotel room




It started out innocently enough. While looking for a table on craigslist, I found myself pulled towards the personals.  I thought, “this will be entertaining”  I plowed through the countless posts that promised nights of adventure, luxurious vacations and romantic walks in the park.  Seriously? Does anyone actually fall for that. 

Then I found one that caught my attention:

Dominant Male, 42, seeks submissive female for new experiences.

Well Helloooooo.  I had to read it…after all my Christian Grey could be waiting for me.  The post was well-written and straightforward.  No romance, no drama, just playtime.  I immediately left the page and continued looking for furniture.  Later that evening I found myself back on that page.  It was calling me…It summoned me.

I’ve always been a little different.  My first sexual experiences were with a man much older than I .  He was a Dominant and I was trained to be his submissive.  It wasn’t weird back then.  It didn’t require a segment on Nancy Grace.  I wasn’t abused.  It was consensual.  And it was hot. And I liked it.

So back to the present moment…hogtied to a table…on my lunch hour.

What is he going to do next?  I can hear him rummaging through his bag.  He’s walking over this way.

He stops.  Turns and goes back to his bag of tricks.  Rummaging again. The suspense is almost too much. 

WHAT IS HE GOING TO DO TO ME????  I wanted to ask him, but I knew my question would be viewed as disrespectful.  I could feel him standing over me.  The heat from his breath was in my ear.

“What time did you get here today, miss?”

I replied, “12:52”

His voice was slightly louder as he stood over me, “What time were you supposed to be here?”

I stammered, “12:15”

He was closer to me.  He leaned down by my ear again  and whispered, “what were Sir’s instructions to you?”

“I was to arrive at 12:15, and I had a window of 7 minutes before and 7 minutes after to get here.”

He voice was loud again, “And you expressed understanding of your instructions, did you not?”

I quickly answered, “Yes, Sir.”

He was pacing around me. I could see the outline of his feet out of the corner of my blindfold. 

“Tell me, sub.  Do the math. How many minutes were you late?”

Math?  Really?  I don’t like math.  I had no idea there would be a math quiz in the middle of a BDSM scene.  As I struggled for an answer (the 7 minute windows were throwing me off) he stood behind me and bellowed, “I need an answer, now!”

I blurted out, “21 minutes, Sir”

“WRONG” he snapped.  I felt the heat from his hand as he curtly spanked my left cheek.  “Would you like to try again?”

“22 minutes, Sir?” I stammered

“Yes, you are correct. Do you know why I need to know the number?”

Oh I had a feeling why, but I didn’t want to say it….”No, Sir”

“Yes you do.  You will be paddled for each minute you were late, young lady.”

I could feel the smooth paddle as he taunted me, rubbing it across my bare bottom.  Circling. Rubbing.

And then, POP.  Another.  Another and another.  I felt myself breathing heavily.  It was arousing.

It was intoxicating.  Pure pleasure from the pain each time he paddled me. 

He stopped short of 22.  He moved to my ear and knelt down.  “Did you like that?”

I honestly didn’t know what to say! If I say yes, will he stop?  If I say no, will he stop?  So I chose not to answer.

“I asked you a question, miss” his voice became louder.  “Did you enjoy that?” 

“Yes!” I yelled.  Kneeling at my ear, he said, “Good girl.  Time for more”