Madness

This week has been incredibly stressful for me. Maestro has also had a challenging week. Lucky for us both, he is visiting this weekend. I do hope he sees fit to push my limits and further my enlightenment. I hope he rummages through our bag of delights and finds the perfect implement to use on me, as he uses me.  He says, “You know I don’t take requests.” And trust me, I do know this.

My reply was, “Yes, but I do know you will TAKE what is Yours.”

transformed

I hope the weekend is full of dark and dastardly deeds, because this week has been nothing short of pure Madness….

 

Advertisements

The Transformation…

transform

His knife of control

Slices deep in her soul

The sweet, deep incision

Demands her submission

He takes her breath with a

Sleight of his hand

As she kneels at attention

And awaits His command.

With His hand on her throat

Her eyes fixed in His stare

He strips away her walls

Leaving her bare

He surveys her form

As He knows it by heart

He puts her together

As He pulls her apart

He rebuilds her soul

As He makes her feel new

Transforming into one

What was formerly two

Tests, Initials, and Labels

So the post I wrote on the alphabet had me thinking…there are really so many letters and labels out there in the BDSM community.  Think about it, the community itself is identified by it’s four letters

Bondage and Discipline/Domination and submission/Sadism and Masochism

Keeping this theme going, the main tenet to the lifestyle are these 3 letters:  S S and C

Safe, sane and consensual.

And preferably, DDD

Drug, disease and drama-free.

And for those who practice DD (domestic discipline), the lifestyle is often described as TTWD (this thing we do).

So many letters…

And with the recent BDSM test that circulated around here on WP, I found it interesting…

The categories that I fit into…

Of the M/s, I am the s (no surprise here)

Of the S & M, I am the M (truly no surprise either)

I enjoy the B.  I enjoy the D.  (not a shocker)

Along with that analysis…

And I am venturing into a 24/7 dynamic with my M, as we are embarking on a TPE relationship.

But we are currently in a LDR.

In addition to these initials, I am a SWF and have been told on some occasion that I also fit into the MILF category, which makes me chuckle.  I think that horny bag boy wanted to put more than groceries in my trunk.

So many initials.  So many labels.  But it doesn’t define who we are.  And if I may digress for a quick minute…on the Myers-Briggs personality test, I am an ENFP, for those who keep up with that stuff.

For those who follow astrology…I am a Sagittarius.

For those who follow the Chinese Zodiac, I am a rat, water rat to be precise.

Back to the BDSM labeling… let’s summarize by the letters only:

I am a SWF, who is a s to her M, that is the M in S & M, enjoying a little B & D as she ventures into a 24/7 TPE relationship, that is currently a LDR, until her M in FL is able to relocate to GA.

What the letters don’t say:

She is fierce, strong woman who openly and freely chooses to submit to her partner, who has evolved into her Master.  She has been plagued with significant trust issues for most of her life and enjoys being able to let go completely as his devoted slave, giving all control to her M.  In doing so, she enjoys that he pushes her limits through various scenarios…and she finds those involving a certain degree of pain and/or bondage, to be the most pleasurable.  She is eager for the day when she and her M are able to live freely in a total power exchange relationship, because for now there is 7 hours separating them.

But their day is coming.

masters feet

 

And they won’t define themselves by the letters, or the labels.  But rather they will define their devotion to each other by:

The unspoken.  The subliminal.

The mundane.  The profound.

The awe-inspiring.  The day-to-day.

The good.  The bad.

The everything.

Because that is what they are to each other…

ABC’s of BDSM/Kink

In celebration of Dr. Seuss’ birthday this month…let’s go on a little sojourn into the ABC’s of BDSM and kink, shall we?

A is for Anal.  Come on ladies, ass up.  It’s no longer just for birthdays, anniversaries and make-up sex.  I’ll Analyze it for you.  It is Amazing. So get off of yours and get some…

B is for Bondage.  Bound by ropes, cuffs or even words…there is no freedom like it. Hog-tied.  Tied to the bed.  Hands in front.  Hands behind.  Legs.  Ankles.  Hands tied to legs…to ankles…to the bed…I could go on…

C is for Control. The word itself stirs me…In my humble submissive opinion, it is best given away and Consensually coerced with the use of a strong Crop and well-positioned Clamps.

D is for Dominant.  Delicious.  Decisive.  Direct and Demonstrative.  All I can say, in Southern-speak is DAAYYUUMM. (Which is DAMN…for those of y’all who don’t speak the language)

E is for Exhibitionism.  Could you would you in a boat? Could you would you in my throat?  Could you would you in plain sight?  Could you would you when it’s bright?  It’s anytime.  Anywhere. Exposed.  Erotic.  Exciting.

F is for Fetish.  Fly your freak flag. All are welcome.  Flags of a feather Freak together, with Floggers and all.

G is for Good Girl.  These 2 words, when used together, dripping from the lips of my M, ignite a fire in my loins that burns like the flames of Hades. That’s HOT…Damn HOT.

H is for Hitachi Wand.  You know you’re in for a fun night when the lights flicker and dim as it is switched on. Now, that’s some powerful shit…Hello and HOWDY, Mr. Hitachi.

I is for Insatiable. To quote the late-great-Barry White…”My darling..I can’t get enough of your love baby”  (Sing it to yourself in his baritone and you’ll totally get it)

J is for Jesus.  Not trying to be funny here…but I guarantee I say His name about 100 times in the midst of a kinky weekend.  Just sayin’.  As God is my witness…

K is for Know thyself.  To set boundaries and establish limits, one must know who they are.  K is also for Kink.  And lots of it.  Go big or go home.

L is for Little.  It’s a wonderful place to be…sometimes stocked with glitter and rainbows…It can also stand for Love.  Lust.  Lustful.  Lusting after…

M is for Masochism.  The sheer pleasure from pain. Mouth-watering smacks on the ass that Melt. My Master is a master at this…More, please.

N is for Nipple clamps.  These implements demand upright attention.  And there is something so Naughty about having someone tug on your chain.  State of Nirvana guaranteed…

O is for OH MY GOD…Orgasms.  Preferably lots of them.  Sometimes they are denied, but when allowed…they are Overwhelming.  Oh..my.

P is for Paddle.  Ah, the precise Pain from the use of a Proper Paddle. It’s Penetrating.

Q is for Quiche.  In order to do all of this kinkery…one must eventually eat to keep one’s strength up.  On a side note..real men do eat quiche and they also eat pussy for that matter. So eat the fucking quiche already.  You already know what’s for dessert.

R is for Rope.  Japanese silk.  Jute.  Nylon.  Regardless of the material, it’s the technique that counts, Scout’s honor.

S is for Safe and Sane.  It’s the Sadists out there you have to watch out for, you know.  Sluts beware.

T is for Talk.  “I am your dirty whore from way back, Daddy.” I fucking love to Talk dirty during hot, carnal sex.  Although I don’t always get to say much when his cock is halfway down my Throat.

U is for Use Me.  Analogy:  What “good girl” is…when spoken to me…”Use me” is…when I say it.  It’s global warming, climate-changing dialogue that turns me into a dripping mess…as I anticipate the Unspeakable things awaiting me.

V is for Vibrators.  Be mindful of the friendly Vibrator packaged as a personal massager…it’s certain to Violate you in ways unfathomable…such Vigor.

W is for Wet. Here it is used in a sentence.  Whips and Wartenburg Wheels make me Wet. Weally…Weally…WET.

X is for, you guessed it…X-RATED.  Once again…my humble and submissive opinion.  Handle your business in the bedroom (or wherever it may be for the Exhibitionists) and act like you are making an XXX rated movie.  Crank it up a notch whether or not the camera’s rolling.  Or whether or not you know it’s there….

Y is for Yours.  It is about belonging to your One.  It should be said frequently.  It’s a powerful statement.  Practice with me, “I am YOURS.”  Say it loud.  Say it proud.  You know who You are.

Z is for Zen.  We, subbies out there refer to this as “subspace” which is a state achieved when you lose all conscious awareness and rely on the sublime feeling of pure ecstasy as you float in the moment.  It is heaven on earth.  ZEN….Namaste…hey…hey…hey

So I will close with this…

Down and dirty and downright flirty, this little post is meant to amuse those who use those

For their pleasure, with a feather or even paddled and likely straddled.

Some like it hot and some like it cold.  Some want them young.  And some want them old.

Some crave the pain while others like to restrain.  Some prefer the view from the top as they wield their crop to their unsuspecting bottoms’ bottoms…

Waiting to hear that first “POP”

But it’s all in good fun, for now I must run.  The wheel calls my name in decibels of pain.

Waiting for “good girl” to drip from his lips as I arch my back and hips and spread my thighs, I watch his eyes and I hear my sighs ring out into night’s sky…

I recite in my head as I approach the first O…

Oh The Places You’ll Go.  And Go.  And Go. And Go.

Oh the places

Happy Birthday, Dr. Seuss…

 

 

Learning to Fly…

Maestro and I have committed to seeing each other as often as possible.  When I found an excellent deal on train tickets, I decided to pay him a visit.  I had never traveled by train and I was eager to try something new.

The train station was literally stuck in time…I imagine it looked exactly as it did in 1967. At 2:35 am, I boarded the train and began my adventure to see my M.  I can’t say the ride itself was horrible.  It was okay.  I didn’t like the length of the trip (10 hours with all of the stops) but it made me more mindful of just how exhausting it is for Maestro to drive 7 hours, one way, to see me.  I’d always appreciated that he would devote such time for us to be together, but this made me have an even deeper appreciation for his dedication.  An even deeper appreciation for him.

He was literally pulling into the station as I walked outside.  We have this cosmic thing going…When he visits me, I will unlock my front door as he pulling up.  There’s no phone call.  There’s no peeking out of the window.  I just know.  And this was no different.  He pulled up as I stepped off of the elevator.  He didn’t even need to park.

He took one look at me and realized that I was exhausted.  Not just from the train ride…but from all I’ve dealt with over the last couple of months.  He shifted the agenda he’d planned (an agenda that included a visit to a local dungeon) and decided it was best for me to take it easy.  So we had lunch and checked into our room.  At that time, he gave me very specific instructions….

“You need to take a nap.”

I didn’t want to take a nap!  I wanted to spend time with him…in the throes of passion.  But I saw the look in his eye and I knew he wanted what was best for me.  So I did as I was told…and he joined me and whispered, “that’s my good girl.”

Those words….they switch me to the “On” position faster than a speeding bullet (no pun intended there)  So I can’t say that we went to sleep immediately…but we did nap eventually.  And as a reward for my obedience…Maestro took me shopping to one of my favorite stores the next day.  I love how he understands me.  How he knows how to engage me.  How he effortlessly controls me.

We had a very relaxing weekend…we had lunch with his dad.  Went to the movies.  Shopped.  Just spent time together.  And we eventually made our way back to the room.  This time, he did not request that I nap.  Instead, his request was that I pleasure him.  Which I eagerly did.  It one of my favorite directives to follow.  His next request…

“Get on the bed.  Lie across me.”

I quickly complied with his directive.  I was wondering what was coming next?  He had taunted me with spankings all throughout the weekend, so I had no idea of what to expect.  Our bag of tricks was across the room and I’d not seen him open it.  As I pondered with anticipation, I noticed a shift in his tone.  He meant business…

“I want you to lie here and remain still, do you understand? I will tell you when you can move.”

My heart began to beat faster…what was he about to do????

He began tracing my spine with the very tip of his finger.  Up and down.  Circling each part of my back.  It was an amazing sensation…almost a tickle…not enough to laugh.  It was almost an itch…but not enough to scratch.  It was very sensual.  And it was torture.

I wanted to squirm.  I wanted to arch my back for more.  But my instructions were clear.  I was not to move.  So I lied across his body as he tormented me.  And I realized as we continued, that this was another lesson.  Maestro was teaching me that pain/torture need not come from a bull whip or nipple clamps…that something as simple and sublime as his light touch could appeal to my masochistic tendencies.  He was demonstrating to me that torment comes in all forms.  And I loved every second of it.

He held me hostage like that for a long time.  I found myself so aroused by his focused touch and attention, that I could have exploded at any given moment.  But again, my instructions were to be still.  So I obeyed, even though it was almost unbearable.  When he could see that I’d had enough…he saw fit to take what was his.  Without hesitation.  And he showed me no mercy.  I found myself in subspace faster than I’d ever ventured before.

I was perplexed….I typically have an indication that I am approaching subspace.  I typically find myself there after some type of impact play or when there is some form of pain.  This was different.  I found myself there, faster than ever.  His session of “pleasured” torture had aroused me to a point that even I was not aware.  I was almost alarmed by my arrival…it happened so quickly.

He could sense that I was unsettled by my rapid ascent to subspace and he held me.  He whispered in my ear, stroked my hair, made me feel like the luckiest woman in the universe.  I melted into his form and relaxed into the moment, realizing that I was safe and protected.  Realizing that every time I venture to this perfect place of oblivion, I find myself bound but free.  Tethered and bound to him as the center of my world, but free to feel and experience all that I am,  because of him. Because of his love and devotion.

And ladies and gentlemen…this is the good stuff.

 

Above the planet on a wing and a prayer,
My grubby halo, a vapour trail in the empty air,
Across the clouds I see my shadow fly
Out of the corner of my watering eye
A dream unthreatened by the morning light
Could blow this soul right through the roof of the night

Joy, Pain, and Minnie Pearl

Where were we?  Oh that’s right…we just finished up Saturday.

Maestro conducted a full orchestra throughout the weekend.  By the time Sunday rolled around (we affectionately call Sunday, Subday around here) I was soft putty in his hands.  Honestly, he could look at me and evoke a reaction.  Every nerve in my body longed for his touch and I found myself, once again, sequestered to the bed.

Under his spell.

He held me captive for hours delivering immense pleasure as only he can.  I love that he keeps a close check on my needs.  He got up and brought me some water, but paused before returning to the bed.

He rummaged through our bag of tricks and I was once again redirected…this time to keep my eyes closed.  He came back to the bed and put my collar on.  The collar that has his affectionate pet name for me (SLUT) in silver on the front.  Once I have that on, I find that any inhibitions I may have are erased from my being.

“I didn’t tell you to open your eyes.  Now close them, my dirty little slut”

Damn…he has a way with words…

I could hear him open something…like a cap.  I realized it was the tube of lubricant in the bag.  I wondered what would come next…

I readied myself.  I could feel him looking at me.

“Open your eyes.”

I opened them and saw that he’d selected a new item from our collection.  He was holding the new anal plug I’d ordered.  He wanted me to see it.  He wanted me to know what was in store for me.

It is a bit imposing, I must admit.  Have you ever ordered too much in a restaurant, only to realize that your eyes were bigger than your stomach?

In this case, my eyes were bigger than my ass…

I had a slight bit of fear pulsating through my veins as I watched him position me, ready me for this session of play.  I knew it would be intense, but I welcomed the opportunity to push more limits…and as I pondered this limit-pushing…

Maestro slowly pushed the tip of the plug inside me.

(Here’s a bit of trivia for you folks at home…I have named it Minnie Pearl, because when it goes in it makes me want to say….”HOWDY!”)

He continued to push further in….slowly…checking to see if I was okay.  And I was.  I was really okay.  It was wonderful.  I wanted it deeper…and Maestro obliged.  Once fully engaged, he took out another trick from the bag…

The riding crop.

He taunted me with it…rubbing my back with the tip.  Gliding over my legs and circling my backside.  He walked around me, surveying his best angle and then he delivered the first blow on my upper right cheek.

Such a sweet combination…the sting of the crop caused me to flinch, enhancing the depth of the plug.  He continued to find targets all over my bottom and was quick in his work.  I found myself close the edge when introduced the crop’s cousin…

The flogger.

Maestro is a professional when it comes to flogging.  He knows the exact force to use, the best places to strike, and the perfect rhythm and I found myself over the edge with Minnie in tow, before I could say Chuck Norris.

Then he began to alternate the crop and flogger and things became very intense.  I could feel my back warming from the sensations and I wanted more.  Being the adept Master he is, Maestro obliged and brought me to oblivion with swift precision.  I ended up in subspace once again and found myself joyously laughing from the experience.

Once I was back from the clouds and onto the bed…Maestro had another implement pulled from the bag (the never ending bag…reminds of Mary Poppins’ carpetbag…what else could possibly be in there). This time I was not allowed to open my eyes and felt the sharp sting of something metal…

The Wartenberg Pinwheel…or as I now call it, the Wheel of Fortune.  He started on the bottom of my right foot and came all the way up the back of my leg, across my reddened bottom, up my back and back down the other side…when he arrived at my left cheek, I began to laugh uncontrollably.  The sensation was unlike anything I’d felt before and I LOVED IT!  I felt the sensation of pain from the sharp points on my ass, but the feeling was more like a relentless tickle.  Maestro loved hearing me laugh and he tortured me with the wheel and his nimble fingers until I could take no more and I ventured into subspace again.

For those of you at home, keeping score…yes, that was twice in one day.

At this point, I wanted nothing more than to pleasure him.  He had given me an afternoon of hedonistic delight and it was my turn.  I love when he watches me take him deep in my mouth.  I love hearing him moan.  I love it when he talks explicitly dirty to me.

And I love the prize I receive when I bring him over the edge.

After all of the fun, I collapsed in his embrace and we woke up just in the nick of time.  The babysitter was due back any minute with the kids and everything was a mess…the room…the bed…and especially me.  We gathered everything up in the room…straightened the bed and hopped in the shower in record time and were ready to greet the kids as they came in the door.

Sigh….

What a perfect “Subday” Sunday…

 

 

Don’t Believe the 50 Shades of Hype…

Since the title of my blog is derived from the infamous book, Fifty Shades of Grey, I feel compelled to wax poetic about the upcoming movie, scheduled for release this weekend.

So here goes….

Quite frankly, I am growing tired of the hype surrounding the movie.  The question of rating.  The reference to “unusual behavior”. The constant barrage of trailers and previews.  And it all comes down to this, in my humble…submissive opinion.

It’s all a marketing ploy…

After all, while shopping for diapers, shampoo and beauty products at my favorite place, Target, I discovered that I can buy a “Fifty Shades of Grey” Starter Kit.  WHAT?  Yes..they exist.  There are different kits.  One comes with two blindfolds (I snickered to myself in the store, thinking that would be one hell of a game of blind-man’s-bluff) along with the obligatory massage oil.  The other kit has some form of sensual lubricant.  And they retail for about $20.00.  And just in time for Valentine’s Day, right?

So what’s all the hype about?  If you take away the kink, it’s just a story.  A contrived, unbelievable tale about a young, innocent woman who is seduced by a billionaire …who falls head over flogger in love with her.  Quite simply, in it’s skeletal form, it’s just a love story…complete with pages of playful email banter, tactile family dinners and grown-up sleepovers, with  explicit playrooms.  But because there is bondage.  Because there is a well-defined, consensual power-exchange, there exists this cloud of dark mystique.

Here’s another tidbit from my humble, submissive opinion:

Yes, it was the hot sex scenes that initially drew in the masses, causing a buzz louder than an archaic Hitachi Wand…but it’s the story of love that hooked the reader.  We all want to believe in it.  We all want someone who understands us.  We all want someone whose demons play well with our demons, right?  Well there you go…he’s a young executive with a troubled past, who happens to be a Dominant.  She is a wide-eyed, new college grad, who happens to be a submissive.  His need for discipline and control plays well with her need for direction and guidance.

And have you heard that one of the CEO’s from a major hardware chain sent a memo to several stores warning of a possible “run” on rope, in response to the movie.  Really?  And if that’s true, let’s hope they are giving away complementary safety cutters.  There are going to be a lot of novices out there…fired up from the movie…excited to duplicate the BDSM scenes from the dungeon.  And again, all of this just in time for Valentines Day.

Can you imagine what the conversation will be around the water cooler on Monday?  Wonder if the ladies will compare rope burns and dish about their marked bottoms…

And please know that my intention is not to be snarky…or cynical in this post.  I am shooting straight from my leather-clad hip.  It’s a book…that’s now a movie…that’s now a franchise…that will ride the wave of notoriety for as long as possible.  Ten years from now those “kits” will be yard sale fodder and we will look back at this phenomenon fondly, grinning to ourselves…sadistically.

As for me…and my Valentine.  We won’t be lining up at the movie theater.  Nor will we be lined up at the hardware store.  We are well-stocked over here with an assortment of accouterments that would make the man, Christian Grey, himself… blush.  We are not even going out in all of the Hallmark madness. We are simply celebrating each other…

Letting our demons come out to play together.