Knowing My Place

Hello there. Where were we? I hate to admit, I don’t even remember. I’ve been away from this blog for a long time. I felt like our story was told. M and I found something we both wanted. We found each other. We found our rhythm as a D/s couple. We found our groove as a family. And despite rocky roads and winding paths, life is good.

I’ve started a side job…more like a side-hustle. By day, I work in my own consulting firm. By night, I am a phone sex operator. Yes. It’s true. I get on the phones late at night and speak with a variety of callers. It is interesting and fun.  M is fine with me chatting up these anonymous gents. The money is good. And for the most part, it’s easy work. The only issue is that I work late hours. Those late hours cut into “our time” and we fall asleep before we can have any fun.

Most couples struggle to find connection because we are inundated with responsibility. Being pulled in so many directions, often clouds our vision. Even the mirror is foggy and we cannot see who we are. That’s when it’s high time for a reminder.

Last night, I had a very long call. It was originally a 30 minute request, that turned into a two and a half hour conversation. By the time I finished, M was already in the bed. He was lying there completely naked, with a sheet over him. I looked at him and contemplated waking him up. I wanted him so badly. But I realized he was tired. He’s been working long hours and he appeared to be sleeping deeply. I quietly got into bed and rolled over to go to sleep.

“Get down between my legs, slut.” he commanded.

I was shocked. I thought he was asleep. I slowly rolled towards him when he said in a more direct tone. “Down between my legs. Suck my cock, slut.”

I scurried down to take him into my mouth. It’s been a while since he talked to me like that. I was aroused and eager to please him. I felt his hand on my head, pulling me by the hair as he guided the pace. He was forceful and aggressive. I loved it.

“Don’t take it deep, unless I tell you, slut. Or unless I shove it down your throat like this.”  And he pushed himself into my throat, gagging me. I nodded in approval. “You need to have your face-fucked. You need to be reminded who you are, slave.”

The word “slave”, as if by instinct, caused me to take him deep. Remember, he told me not to, unless he instructed me. He yanked me up by the hair and pulled me off his rock hard dick. Growling at me he said, “No slut. I decide when you take it deep. You are here for my use. Now rub my cock all over your face. Slap your face with my cock, you dirty slave.”

Holy shit it was hot! I was so into our scene. He took anything he wanted from me. He ordered and commanded me to pleasure him as he wanted. He posed my body in the positions he wanted. He reminded me of who I am as he relentlessly used me like a dirty slut.

Because, that is who I am. I am his dirty slut. My purpose is to serve and submit to him. And although our dynamic is ever-present in all we do, it’s nice to have it demonstrated in such a direct way. Such a deliciously dirty way.

The intensity of our scene brought me to subspace. It was a perfect conclusion to our night. As the tears fell, I relaxed into his strong arms and let go of everything. Expectations. Responsibilities. Stress. I let go of it all and found my place.

My place is right there. In his capable grasp. Under his spell.

In love.

In service to Him.

know my place

(photo credit, Pinterest)


Our Story of “O”

Sometimes, life gets in the way.  The desire is there.  The passion is there.  But so are the kids.  The bills.  The housework.  The jobs.

And waiting in the corner…staring at me smugly is that ever-growing bastard…the laundry.

So what’s a couple to do with limited time on their hands?  This is an age-old question and I bet if you Google it, I am sure you will find several versions of the same Ladies Home Journal article, along with multiple Cosmopolitan articles about how to keep the fires hot.  There may be some valuable advice in there about making time…about connecting…about reverse-cowgirling your lover like Seabiscuit till you both win the race.

But let me ask this….what’s a kinky couple to do with limited time on their hands?  A couple who pushes limits.  A couple who teeters towards edge play.  A couple whose marathon scenes have been known to go on for days.  How do they find the time to-do-that-thing-they-do?

For M and I, we have always somehow found a way, and the only rule (which is more like an anti-rule) is “anytime, anywhere and any way we can get away with it.”

But a little while back, we were struggling to find a way.  It had been a couple of weeks since we’d engaged in anything sexual.  I’d been dealing with putting my father on hospice and we’d both been busy getting the kids settled in school.  There was little to no time for anything other than kids/parents, bills, meals and everything else that demanded our attention.

But one night lying in bed as I was about to fall into a deep coma from exhaustion, I felt his breath in my ear.

“Assume the position, my little slut.”  I could feel his hand clasp my throat and I quickly rose to my knees and faced him.  He stroked my hair and face.  I was immediately awake and at attention.  He pulled me to his lips and kissed me as if it were our first kiss.  Long and passionate and purposeful.  I could feel his hand between my thighs searching for his perfect spot.  Within minutes I was a puddle of a mess.  He kissed me again.

And then he said, “Go get a towel.” I am glad thought of that.  My M definitely knows best.

For hours we worshipped each other’s bodies.  It was a session of pure, uninhibited play.  I don’t know when, if ever, I’ve had orgasms like that.  They were so fast…one after another…after another…after another.  The towel was soaked from his handiwork. We barely came up for air…each of us pleasuring the other.  I loved that his hips came off the bed as he plunged himself deeply in my mouth, clutching my long hair in his hands as he unloaded himself down my throat. Neither of us could get enough.  It was as if we made up for lost time, many times over.

My journey to subspace was swift and beautiful.  I was able to find the peace I so badly needed.  I let go of all that was vying for a place in my thoughts, and realized that my only real need is to serve M.  If I do this.  If I give Him my everything, he will lighten my burden.  He will ease my mind.

And he will fuck the ever-living shit out of me at a moment’s notice.  DAMN…..


When we finally passed out, sated and exhausted, it was almost 4:00 in the morning.   I was up early for work the next day.  Rejuvenated.  Refreshed.

And reminded…that I am His.


2015: A Space Odyssey

Where do I even begin?

The New Year started with my mother’s passing.  She had been in and out of the hospital and in various nursing centers for the last two years.  While she declined suddenly, she was at peace and I feel she was ready to go.  I was there with her, as I wanted to be.  She birthed me into this world, and I was there to help her transition to the next.  It was a beautifully painful journey.

Maestro insisted on being here for me, despite the fact that because of previous work obligations, he could only stay for the weekend.  So he drove the seven hours (one way) to get here that Friday night and then turned around on Sunday and drove back.  What a wonderful man to come all that way to console me.  To help me make arrangements.  To be there for my kids.  He took me to the cemetery to select a final burial place for mom.  He took me to find her a suit.  He took me out for a fantastic lunch.  He took me to the grocery store and bought my food for the week.

Maestro also took me somewhere else.  He took me on a journey to sub-space.

If you will remember, as I have alluded in several posts, that I am a cynic.  I am a skeptic.  I don’t see the glass half-full, or empty.  I don’t even believe that’s really water in the glass.  So the concept of “sub-space” seemed like the proverbial unicorn of D/s.  I’ve read a hundred posts recounting the details of this state of nirvana.  But I have always been skeptical.  I have experienced immense pleasure.  I have had moments that were so intense, that I felt I could almost lose consciousness.  But I had never experienced that level of euphoria.  This entirely different category of bliss, called “sub-space”

I had never experienced it until that night…that Saturday night.

We’d had an exhausting day making last minute arrangements.  We were all tired.  Maestro was tired from driving half the night, and then shuttling me around for the day.  I was tired from spending four sleepless nights in the hospital with my mother prior to her passing.  The kids were tired from their schedules being topsy-turvy with different sitters.  So I figured we would have a little “alone time” and drift off to sleep.  Boy, was I wrong.  And I should realize by now…never make an assumption when Maestro is conducting the orchestra.

There’s always time for another concert.

The kids were asleep and we were on the sofa watching TV.  He pulled me close to kiss me.  His kiss was long and passionate.  I could see the look in his eyes.  I knew he wanted more of me.  He wanted me then.  There.  On the sofa.  He began bringing me to the edge, when he clutched a handful of hair and said, “No, not yet.  Not until I tell you.”

He instructed me that I needed to gain his permission before climaxing and that I must speak the words he wants to hear, once I am given permission.  He taunted me some more. Finally, I begged him to allow me to release.  He stroked my face.  Looked into my eyes. Smiled at me.

And then he said, “Now.  Cum for me now.  Look at me.  Tell me.”

I looked into his large hazel eyes and said, “I love you, Master” as I came unglued in the ecstasy of the moment.

I could tell he was pleased.  He stroked my hair and said, “Very good.  Now let’s move to the bedroom.”

Once in there, I showed him some of the items I’d recently purchased to add to our collection of fun.

There was a new paddle.  Leather and imposing.

New nipple clamps.  Adjustable for comfort…or discomfort.

A new collar.  Black leather, with a silver, four-letter word…describes me perfectly when I am with my M.

And a new flogger.  Nice handle.  Black suede.  Short tails.

I didn’t think we would do much with the items, since it was so late and we were both spent.  But once again, never make an assumption when it comes to the Maestro.

“Hand me the collar, please.”

I handed him the collar and brushed the hair away from my neck.  He fastened it quickly and checked for comfort.  Tugging on it, he was pleased with the fit.

“Now hand me the flogger and paddle.  Get on the bed.”

I readied myself for the first blow, but he never does what I expect he will do.  Instead he got into the bed and called me over to him.  He held my face and kissed me, stroking my face, my breasts, my neck.  Feeling the collar with his fingers.  I was so turned on at this point that I reached down to stroke him.

He grabbed my wrist and said, “You don’t touch me until you have permission, understand?”

WHOA…..That was so hot.  I forgot my manners and said, “Yes.”

A sharp tug on my collar quickly reoriented me.  “Yes, Sir.  Yes, Master.  I understand.”

He stroked my cheek and said, “Now show yourself to me.  Give me access to all of you. On your knees…facing away from me.”

I did exactly as I was told.  I could feel his hands on me.  I could feel his fingers exploring me.  On the outside.  On the inside.  All over my body.  All under his control.

“Who do you belong to?” he would ask.

“You.  I belong to you”

“Good girl.  Now I want you to pleasure me.”

I quickly did as he asked.  I absolutely love giving him what he wants.  I love to worship his body as it should be worshipped.  Focusing on him.  Hearing his approval.  Feeling him encompass the inside of my warm mouth.

He told me to lie on my stomach.  As I faced towards him on my stomach, I could see that he had something in his hand.  I couldn’t tell what it was, as the room was dark. In a moment’s notice, I felt the sharp sting of the flogger across my backside.

I moaned in delight.  He was swift in his delivery (I could tell he had done this many times before) and I found myself writhing in pleasure from each thud.

As this went on I became more and more responsive.  I was almost in a frenzied state.  Each blow was atonement.  Each stroke was release.  Each hit was me letting go of all of the pain I’d just experienced with my mother.  Each sharp recoil was pure release.  I found myself close to the edge again…knowing I needed to seek permission.

“Please….please.  I am so close.”  I begged.

“Not yet.  You’re not ready. On your knees facing me.”

I faced him on all fours.  He once again, held my face and kissed me.  Plunging his fingers deep inside me, he brought me to a place I’d never ventured to before.  I felt explosion and release instantly.  I couldn’t contain myself, the release was everywhere.  I collapsed onto the pillow and began recounting this life-changing experience.

I wanted to call someone.  I needed to tell someone.  This humored him and we shared a few laughs.  I mean who do you call at 3:00 in the morning…to tell them about the incredible night you’ve had?

So this was my sub-space.  This was euphoria like never before.  This was me floating….

And I forgot an important detail about sub-space…I forgot about it’s ugly cousin, sub-drop.

In an instant, I was shaking.  Shaking out of my skin.  And the tears.  The ones I desperately hold on to. The ones I don’t share with anyone…they began pouring out of me.

I wept.  I have never cried like that in front of anyone before in my life.

And my Maestro was right there.  He wrapped me up in his arms and wiped the tears away.  He talked me through it.  And for the first time in my life, I let go.  I really, honestly, wholeheartedly…let go.

He was there helping me to do it.  Helping me cope with all of the emotion.  All of the pain.  All that needed to come out.

I fell asleep in his embrace, a changed person.  A free person.  Not held by chains or weighed down with baggage from my past.

I was safe.  I was secure.  I was free.  I was his.

I understand that it is he who makes me whole, boldly going where no man has gone before…

Space, the final frontier.

Ahhhh…until our next voyage, Number One.  Till our next voyage…

“And I’m going to be high as a kite by then…”