I should be packing, but I'm not.

A friend was supposed to show up this morning at 8am to help us clean out the basement since I can't lug stuff up and down the stairs by myself. So I got up early to tend the dogs and shower and get ready before he came, and he never showed up. T is sleeping in his chair in the living room and has been all day. i packed half of one bathroom, so I made a tiny bit of progress. I went to my moms to pick up a bunch of those huge tupperware tubs to pack clothes in, so I should get started on that but what I really want to do is go lay down and read.

I was up late last night being tortured beyound belief by my very mean Domme, so I'm sleeepppy. Well, she sent me to bed at a decent time, but I had trouble falling asleep because I was SO DAMN HORNY.

I STILL haven't been allowed to orgasm and between vibrating eggs, icy hot, shaving, touching, tasting and ring tugging...*squirms*...I'm about ready to explode.

I won't lie though, as desperate as I am right now, I'm totally enjoying entertaining her and being teased this hard. I almost hope she keeps it up until I really, absolutely cannot take another minute, another day....

and she makes me anyhow.

Please Ma'am...make me suffer?

*whimpers*

Orgasm denial has been a part of my relationship from the very start. I can't even remember what it was like to be allowed to touch on my own whim, although I DO remember that before restrictions were put in place, I used to have many orgasms a DAY sometimes. In the shower, before a nap, before bed and any time in between. Now orgasms are no where NEAR that frequent...twice a month is a treat and you can be sure they are earned first. *winces*

Usually though, admittedly..if Ma'am starts touching me or ordering my cunt filled, by the end of the evening I'll be allowed an orgasm. I must have become a little spoiled on that assumption, because it's now been nearly a week that she's been teasing me most evenings and an orgasm doesn't seem to be in the plans right now. I'm not used to this, but it's woken up this mess of new emotions and reactions for me. Denying an orgasm within the course of a play session is one thing, or denying stimulation for weeks on end. I've done that often, and while it gets frustrating after awhile it is pretty easy for me to just block out my sexual needs and go on with life. This is another notch up on that ladder here. Now we are talking denying orgasm while using my body as a toy, like a puppet. A little touching here, a little fucking there, a lot of pain, a bit of teasing, an evening of slutful entertainment, a good taste just how slutty I am with orders to clean the toys or my fingers off, just knowing how much that makes me blush and how hungry I get with that little tidbit.

Then....

Toys away, hands away...time for sleep or work or whatnot. No arguments, no complaints. Thank You Ma'am for letting me suffer for you.

As I said in a previous post, I'm enjoying this. Last night I spent a little time before falling asleep thinking about WHY I'm enjoying in and thought I would share some of those thoughts here.

Pain and suffering is something that in my relationship, is a driving force. My deepest connections with Ma'am come when she is hurting me, demanding a lot from me, ordering me to take it for her. Some people show their love with romantic gestures and cuddles and hugs and sexual interactions. We have all of those things present, yes, but the most intense moments come in pain. She gives it, and I take it. I have no options, there are no confusions....she gives it, I take it. Period.

I've always enjoyed pain...I mean, I'm involved in a BDSM lifestyle, pain is a huge part of that oftentimes. Early on in my explorations, control was never of much interest to me...it was all about sensation, pain. I was a bottom, not a submissive, despite my claims to otherwise. Pain could take me into the deepest subspaces and I loved it, wanted it harder, wanted more. For ME.

When Ma'am collared me, the pain became about her. I no longer could sink into subspace and focus on enjoying the pain for myself, on dictating how and where and what. With the loss of control, I lost my ability to truly ENJOY the pain for quite a long time. It became something I endured more than something I enjoyed. This was not a bad thing mind you, not at all...it was just different and at times a struggle to not feel upset when my tolerance levels were so low. My submission became a focus, and I got all my pleasure from serving, pleasing, submitting.

It's like both have come full circle again now and merged. Taking pain means I am serving her, I am pleasing her, I am submitting to suffering for her pleasure and amusement. As bad as something may hurt and as much as I may want it to end physically, emotionally I am insatiable. After a hard beating I may be crying and sobbing and begging her to stop, but I am also feeling security, contentment, and a bursting pride at being allowed to serve her in such a manner. I would gladly take more if she demands it, even if my words and my actions are not quite saying that. My heart is.

Right now, my cunt is throbbing. Touching is constantly on my mind. I'd gladly, wantonly rub myself up against a desk or a door frame or my body pillow for a few blissed moments of slight pleasure if I were allowed to act in such a way. Shaving is TORTURE. I go through multiple pairs of panties per day because I get so wet at even mere thoughts.

This IS painful. I'll easily file this under the suffering category. Self control is painful! Especially with some of the creative teasing orders she comes up with. Last night I begged to be allowed to touch, and she let me touch....with icy on my clit. I groaned, I dreaded it (that hurts!), but....but...I moaned and squirmed and got wetter and wetter too. I enjoyed suffering.

I've come to a point where I can enjoy that pain again and not feel like I need to display otherwise. Even if my body is hurting and it's hard to take it, I can enjoy it because I'm suffering for her. There is nothing to not enjoy about pleasing my Ma'am and entertaining her with my desperation.

I want to orgasm, badly. I'd drop to my knees and kiss her feet and beg with every ounce of slut I have in me right now to be tied to the bed and fucked until I'm sobbing. And we don't even DO feet kissing!

At the end, I'd hope I was denied orgasm all the same. I'm feeling a bit nuts right now, with these conflicting desires!

*groans and shifts in chair* This is confusing, for sure. I'm suffering, and loving it. I want to see how far she goes, how hard I'm used, how deeply I can please her with my suffering.

But DAMN I want release. If I sound desperate and a bit whiny, it's because I am.

It's a reminder too. I am Owned, you know? This isn't my cunt to touch on whim or desire things for. I won't get an orgasm because it is what I want or crave. If she allows me to come, it will be for her, and it will be a reward she expects me to be extremely grateful for. This isn't about my enjoyment. It's what she wants right now and it will continue that way until what she wants is my release, on her command, at her whim, on her say how.

Control. Pain. Suffering. Entertainment.

*bites lip* I'm craving a bite right now...biting and cane marks. The two purest forms of pain I know, both of which Ma'am gives so very well. Both are a struggle for me to take sometimes, but both give me the purest form of satisfaction and pride at having taken them for her as well.

Alright, my words are running together, I shall stop now. Horniness makes the brain turn to mush.

I got to talk to Ma'am online for quite some time today, which is rare between our conflicting schedules, need for sleep and just plain real life. The timing actually worked out for once where it was when I was nearly finished working. Drawback was T being home as it was his day off, and he tends to hover around me and annoy the crap out of me when he's home. I felt bad about that as if not for him I would have been able to give Ma'am my FULL attention with no distractions *sigh* Ah well, at least we got the time together, beggers can't be choosers I guess.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm very happy and was floating all day from our talk, but...yes, yes, this is going to be a
My Ma'am is gorgeous. You may not know this about her, but she is. Seeing her on cam makes my heart skip a beat or two...she has the most expressive face and eyes. Seeing the evil glint in them when she is toying with me makes me instantly wet. The smile on her face when I squirm is delicious. The raised eyebrow when I get a little too cheeky makes me freeze and duck my head in embarrassment. She can do an awful lot to me with just a look.

Yesterday she spent much of the afternoon teasing me mercilessly while I was laying in bed. I had intended to nap to get rid of a migraine, but was soon distracted by a very wet, very throbbing, very needy cunt. SOME OF YOU are horrible, terrible people (just kidding, you know I love it) had suggested that 8 minutes every two hours of clamped nipples was not nearly enough. Ma'am agreed, despite probably not even having read that entry yet so this is some dominant wavelength thing going on or something....and ordered my nipples clamped for 5 minutes every hour. *groans at the memory and ignores still aching nipples* I admittedly cried from this, but damn if it didn't make me clench my fists into the sheets and pant like a pony in heat.

She allowed me to touch....demanded it, actually....I don't know how long it went on, it blurs together now, but it took some serious self control to not orgasm. I was allowed to taste myself when she was finished amusing herself with my need. I love the taste of women and I love my own taste as well. I sucked my fingers off gratefully, knowing it would only turn me on all that much more.

Sleep didn't come during this nap but thankfully the headache finally went away. I keep telling Ma'am it's because she won't let me come. She knows better. Here I was thinking I had a medical excuse to be allowed to orgasm!

Today I was filled for her...first my cunt with her cock. Her cock is actually an ice dildo mold that I have, but it works awesome for longer everyday wear. It's short, hollow, very fat and flexible, but still plenty firm enough to fill (and fuck) a needy cunt. Every shift in my chair, every move I made, every step I took....her cock was driven deeper into my soaking, throbbing pussy. I can't even articulate to you how torturous this is. She ordered me to remove it after a bit of amusement. I was sorry to see it go, but it was replaced by a plug in my ass.

I love anal play....I don't always do so well with it because I have a very sensitive body and my ability to take anal play is a come and go thing. Today it felt good...I welcomed that plug in my ass, clenching around it tight as it stretched me open, remembering the last time Ma'am took my ass. She had me naked, on my hands and knees on the bed in front of her. She took her time....playing with my asshole, slipping a finger or two in and out, finger fucking me. I just stayed there in position, not knowing what she planned to do, not daring to beg for anything. For some reason I just knew I had to stay there and take it like a good toy, and I did. It was tough to not beg to be fucked hard or be allowed to touch myself. After awhile she patted my ass, told me to get cleaned up, and that was that. No touch, no stimulation, no release, no explanation. Just used for her pleasure, served as her toy, and cleaned up and put away. It was a very humbling experience. I felt so exposed, so used. I WAS used.

My cunt was throbbing again remembering this, and I squirmed a bit, savoring the feeling of the plug inside me when she decided the cock needed to go back in as well. For two hours, I was to be filled completely. By the end of the two hours, I felt like sobbing as I removed the toys, cleaned them up, cleaned myself up and put them away. The urge to straddle the side of the tub and fuck that cock until I was screaming was overwhelming.

This whole thing is overwhelming. The desire consumes me in ways my arousal has never felt before. I feel it constantly, sometimes fading into the background but it's always there now, it doesn't shut off, I can't block it out.

I'm such a slut.

I have to go spend 10 minutes on my knees before bed, 5 minutes of that clamped. My nipples protest at the thought, but my cunt has a mind of its own, throbbing at the promise of more pain. Then I will crawl into bed and curl up, wrapping my legs around my body pillow as I always do, groaning as it brushes against my oversensitive privates. I'll squirm a little, knowing it will make matters worse for me. And I'll go to sleep. eventually....

Unsatisfied, untouched and throbbing madly.

I mentioned today that I feared She would keep me in this state until Sept when I (hopefully) visit. She said she'd thought about it.

*gulp*

After work yesterday, I was so agitated and horny I didn't even trust myself to go run the errands I had planned to do, so I decided to ask Ma'am how her toy could serve her. After a bit of consideration, she ordered me to lube and put a tampon in my ass.

Now, this may sound strange, but it's actually quite clever. Unlike a plug with smooth surfaces, a tampon stays put exactly where you put in, even with lube. This creates a friction that I can't really explain other than to say it's rather different than a plug and in some ways, more arousing. There is the humiliation factor too. The best thing about the tampon though, is removing it. It doesn't just slide out, it takes a bit of tugging and a lot of resistance to get it to come out. I won't attempt to describe how orgasmic this is, just trust me, it is. It leaves me feeling well fucked, that lovely burning feeling that makes anal sex so wonderful to submit to. *sighs and squirms*

Anyhoo....the tampon just added to my growing frustration and craving for hurt for Ma'am. It's like this arousal consumes me and rather than craving release from it, I'm craving to take more and more. More pain, more teasing, more torture. It's starting to scare me a little bit, how consuming this desire it. Not a bad scare, mind you, just a very new and different and unknown feeling, at least unknown in the sense of being this strong.

I begged her to allow me to clamp my nipples and clit, begging to be allowed a moment to just lay there, squirming in pain, for her. She agreed that sounded lovely, and I undressed, curling up on the bed with my clamps, rolling my nipples around my fingers to harden them before attaching the clovers, shivering as the cold chain pooled between my breasts. I writhed there for a moment, biting back a moan or two before I remembered I had yet to clamp my clit, and did so with a clothespin. I have a clothespin especially for this purpose...loosened just a bit so it doesn't snap off and without potential to damage by wearing for longer periods, but still PLENTY of bite to hurt every second it is on. I knew better than to touch (although I will admit to using my rings to tug my lips open...how useful they are!) but I had no trouble finding my clit...it was hard and throbbing, begging for attention of any sort. I slid the clamp into place after a bit of struggle trying to keep it from sliding off from all the wetness seeping from my cunt. What a slut.

I have only had my clit clamped a handful of times in my life, and it's always very very difficult to take. I do NOT like direct clitoral stimulation, so it really is very painful for me, which was what I was looking for right then. I needed to feel her pain, to know I was pleasing her by hurting for her, taking it for her. Minutes passed; I hadn't specified a time limit and she hadn't mentioned one, so I was at her mercy until she decided I had enough, which was thrilling. As the clamps bit harder and the pain become more focused and less enjoyable, I thrust my hips into the air wantonly, as if begging her to give me mercy I knew deep down I really didn't want. My phone buzzed and I grabbed it desperately, anxious to connect with her in this moment, and her message didn't disappoint. A single, lovely word.

Suffering.

Yes...I was suffering. It had been at least 10 minutes now and my body was screaming. I waited for her next message with a mixture of dread and desperate anticipation. Part of me wanted this to stop. A bigger part of me was hoping to be made to suffer even more, despite that nagging thought of "I can't take any more of this" that was fighting a battle inside my mind. The phone buzzed again...

5 more minutes.

Ooh thank You Ma'am!

When time was up I asked permission to remove them, needing to hear it for some reason before I proceeded, knowing the next part would take the last 15 minutes of pain and roll it up into one 15-minutes-worth-of-pain bundle. I knew I would scream, and thusly I did. I pulled the clamps off quickly. It's like pulling off a band-aid; you try to convince yourself it will be painless if you do it quickly, but you know you are only fooling yourself. I writhed and rolled onto my stomach after pulling the clamp off between my legs, biting into the pillow with a dry sob.

I expected to feel sated, my need to hurt for her appeased. Alas, no. I wanted more, I was DESPERATE for more. In the same way my cunt is so desperate for release it throbs and spasms nearly constantly throughout the day, my body and mind was desperate for some yet to be seen level of pain.

I crawled up onto my hands and knees, fetching the lexan paddle out of my bag and laying it before me, grabbing the phone and pleading...please may I hurt some more for You Ma'am, i'm begging You....

I nearly sobbed again with relief, reading her orders. A set to my cheeks and thighs, then came the order to set up my camera, NOW, and I best not keep her waiting. I scrambled to obey, quivering with anticipation.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a wonderful blur of pain, wetness, and a blushing, smiling slut pet. She had me show her my rings, tugging them and spreading myself open, my wetness obvious, making me blush. She makes me so wet, even after 2 years I still blush with how WET she makes me. Those rings are SO lovely, they look beautiful, they feel beautiful. What a wonderful gift.

I was allowed to touch and play for a bit, resigned to the fact that I likely would not be allowed relief of any sort, making myself even more horny in the process. We were interrupted by T stopping home to let the A/C guy in so I had to be quiet for a bit, but that didn't deter her...loopy johnny's can be useful in times like such. It felt lovely on my smoothly shaved cunt, stinging lines of silent pain. She admired my nails, allowing me to drag them over my still stinging cunt, leaving blissed red lines I could just imagine her putting there herself. My hand wandered a bit too far down, which earned a sharp scolding to get my hands out of there, slut. At one point she ordered me to roll over and remove the tampon from my ass as she watched. I know I blushed, but I obeyed, enjoying the humiliation, whimpering at that oh-so-fucked feeling as the tampon grudgingly let go, leaving a sharp burn in its wake.

It was about time to wind down, she needed to nap before work. I fidgeted and tried not to show any protest; I still felt this overwhelming desire to hurt for her but I knew she needed her rest. I'll admit I likely did too, I had been pushed mentally and physically for days, as she pointed out. Still...I wondered if she could see that need in my eyes...I know she could see it in my breathing, which was coming in short, desperate gasps and pants. There's a new concept...denying me not only the pleasure I crave, but the pain as well. *shudders and moves on*

Then the last order came...put the clovers on..and leave the camera on your face.

I gulped and clipped them into place on my still sore nipples, yelping and closing my eyes, letting my breath out with a hiss knowing the pain was etched across my face and knowing she was enjoying it immensely. I watched the screen in a haze of pain, seeing her tell me how she wished she was here to tug that chain herself, detailing how she would wrap it around her hands and tug up, stretching my nipples taunt, her face right up close to mine, savoring my yells before letting the chain go with a snap, watching my breasts bounce down. I whimpered and imagined, seeing the scene in my head then looking back at the screen.

Do it. Just as described. Do it.

I whispered a raspy "Yes Ma'am" and wrapped the chain in my hand pulling my breasts up, holding them there for a moment and then letting go, yowling as the harsh clamps bounced, still biting cruelly into my nipples. Again, she ordered. And again I obeyed.

I swear I could have gone on like that for hours, the pain driving me to depths I didn't even know existed.

She ordered me to rest then, after the clamps were removed and the last of my yells faded. We lay there together for a moment, just being.

I'm her lypiphera.

It means pain-bearer.

Our schedules have conflicted the past two days, so stimulation of any kind has come to something of a halt. Normally, this would not be an "issue" but with the intensity of the previous days, it's a kind of sudden and unnerving change for this slave to adjust to.

I'm trying to take advantage of the respite and rest, so my body and my mind are ready to serve Her when she desires it of me. This is part of being a toy...it isn't about what I want or wish for. I am here to be used at her whim. Any good toy requires a certain amount of care to remain in tip top shape, so I'm sure rest and respite is a logical thing.

I just wish my cunt majored in logic.

I was having a bit of difficulty with this in my head this morning, entertaining feelings of sullenness, antsy for attention. Lately I have learned to ward this feeling away by asking permission to spend time on my knees, an act that often quickly puts my head back into the space it should be in.

She wasn't available to ask such permission when this mood hit, so I took the initiative to put myself in that position on my own. I knelt on the bedroom floor with my hands loose in my lap, wrapping my mind around the sensations and feelings of the past week and fanning them out before me like mismatched puzzle pieces, arranging them into groups that made more sense and allowed the image to form a hazy pattern behind my closed eyelids. The puzzle analogy helped me keep other thoughts from creeping in and I immediately felt calmer. My knees were aching, but the pain helped me retain my focus. I clicked the pieces in place and refound my center, allowing myself to get up off my knees only when I truly felt the sullenness slip away and gratitude at my role come to the front.

Pain and servitude come in many forms. The past week's service has been stimulating and enjoyable, even in the height of frustration, fear and pain. The sudden stop of that brings about another form of servitude and in a way, a more significant type; patience and priorities. I mentioned in a previous entry the thought of being DENIED the pain was almost unthinkable, a different form of torture and while I don't think it is Ma'am's intentions to deny attention right now (it's more of a schedule/time conflict thing)...fact is, I haven't been touched for two days now other than 10 minutes of nipple clamps before bed last night. I have to make the effort to not allow myself to feel as if I NEED more attention when deep down I know this feeling is all but a desire for my own needs to be met. Patience. Serving as Her toy means her pleasure and entertainment should be my focus, not my own. Priorities.

I want to hurt for Her again. It is difficult to go about my day without that desire creeping into my thoughts. I want to scream "TAKE ME, PLEASE!". I want to beg for attention. Yet I wait patiently for the opportunity to entertain again, for her to desire my screams and my beggings and my dripping arousal.

I serve a purpose. That purpose is to serve.

So I wait. A different sort of self control, and a duller one to write about I have to admit, but I am doing so because while it may not be the most entertaining read, it is hopefully a profound one.

The throbbing between my legs has faded a bit, but I know it won't take more than a word, a look, a simple order, to bring my body to full attention again, picking up just where it left off. Anticipation! Add that to the list of newfound tortures. *smile*

Some things have to be earned. I've always had to earn my orgasms. It's a new concept to think perhaps I just may have to earn my pain as well.

Choices (07/30/06)

Since I last wrote, I've spent a bit of time with both my ass and my cunt filled. Ma'am and I spent a little time online before she had to go tend to some company. She ordered me to be filled with her cock until dinner. I have my period, so this held the promise of being a bit messy, but I have long since learned that my body bleeding without her permission is not an excuse of any imaginable sort. So I didn't even think to protest, just made sure to put a pad on my panties. It's getting harder to accept that thickness inside me and not just break down and fuck the hell out of it. She likes to give me orders to squeeze it or wiggle around it, and damn...that's mean, I'm telling you, it just is.

Yesterday while I was cleaning and packing, she had my ass filled and ordered my nipples and clit clamped a bit. It made a mundane, boring task take on an entirely new focus for me. Having my ass filled and nipples aching, I felt like whatever I was doing, I was serving her. I couldn't bend over without consciously trying to keep the plug from slipping out. Lifting or moving boxes with sore nipples made for some interesting moments of gasps and winces. My mind was on being bitten....Ma'am loves to bite, and I love the pure pure pain of being bitten. It's incredibly hard for me to handle but I just LOVE the feeling of being taken, of suffering so badly for her that I can't even find it in me to enjoy the pain. It just IS, and I have no choice, and it's fucking awesome. Ma'am shared a thought of biting my shoulder, feeling a trail of hot slip down my skin. My blood....I shudder to think of how badly that would hurt, being bitten until I bleed. I shudder at how dangerous it is. I cry and sob and plead when she bites me, but every time...every time she stops, I whimper and burst out with another "please....". I want it so badly to stop yet when it does, I can't stand it, I want it back. I need it back even though it feels so damn good when she stops, it feels even better when she doesn't.

This orgasm denial saga is like that.

A comment made in a conversation about orgasm denial had me thinking. One girl commented on how she enjoyed orgasm control, but there was a limit. She really didn't believe that I have gone as long (or longer, as I have gone much longer than a weekish before) as I have without cheating or lying about it. I get this attitude a lot, and it baffles me.

Sex is not about orgasms to me. Sexual play is not about orgasms to me. I won't claim to not want them or not enjoy them; I most certainly do. However, the road leading up to the climax is MUCH more important to me. I love suffering like this, I really, honestly just do. It's hard and difficult and frustrating and any other number of things, but it is also much more than that. It is stimulating, rewarding, and challenging. It makes me feel beautiful, to have my body so alive and be so aware of its needs and wants. It makes me feel deliciously slutty, and proud to be able to submit to this control with everything I am and give so much to someone I adore. It hones in on my submission and makes it feel larger than life. To me, all of this is a great experience and definitely worth a lack of a few couple-second orgasms and personal pleasure. The personal pleasure of pleasing my Ma'am is orgasmic in its own way. So to the doubters out there...it certainly may not be for everyone, but I'm glad I'm not everyone :)

During our conversation the other day while I was filled, Ma'am teasingly asked me if I would like to come. I didn't REALLY believe her, but some tiny part of me that is used to the evil workings of this woman wasn't quite sure, as I know she likes to allow me pleasures when I least expect them. Pain too, for that matter...

I sat there with my heart thumping in my chest and my cunt squeezing desperately around her cock. Did I want to come?? HELL yes...I think....sort of....no....not really...

My answer was no Ma'am.

I can't help myself. My body really feels like it cannot take another minute of this, but mentally I'm so completely enjoying being pushed like this. I've been craving this for a long time, been craving to be an outlet for Ma'ams most evil desires. I crave for her to really use her toy, her pet, in whatever sadistic ways she can come up with. I know she is enjoying herself and I know there is a lot more sadism in her that she has yet to explore, and damnit, I want to be someone she can unleash that on. I do, with everything I am.

So thus, my answer was no. Not that it mattered whatsoever what my answer was, but had I had the choice, that would have been it.

Besides, I begged to suffer, did I not?

All this has me wondering though...about the other end of the scale; being forced to endure multiple orgasms a day or be punished if I fail. I am not multi-orgasmic and have a hard time sometimes achieving even two. Different scale of suffering there, I imagine. Maybe I'll find out someday.

Joy (09/12/06)

I was going to write a story...but right now I'm feeling like just talking, getting my feelings out there. I suppose that is a story in its own rights. *smiles* Ma'am suggested I simply share in installments, thus, that's what I will do. I'm no good at remembering the order of things and get frustrated trying to share in that way. The order isn't of importance anyhow, but the feelings and the memories.

I have a ritual in place now, a rule of sorts. I am to kneel and wait for Ma'am when I get off the plane. My heart always skips a beat or two and my head rushes into my place, kneeling there in front of all those people. I don't look for her intentionally; there is no need to, she will approach when ready.

As I made my way over to the corner I knelt in last visit, there was Ma'am, waiting. I smiled, approached, and knelt. The happiness that floods me when I see her is a lovely feeling. The feeling I get when I kneel at her feet is ten times that. I speak of pureness a lot; pure pain, pure pleasure. Kneeling at my Owners feet is pure joy.

She placed my collar around my neck in the car, another ritual I so look forward to. I had to struggle to contain my tears; I was overjoyed to feel it there again, to hear that lock click into place. Despite my struggles with doubts and depression and insecurity lately, despite feeling like perhaps maybe I didn't deserve to wear that collar, it was placed there, same as always. The security and love of that action for me was much needed, and strongly felt. I DO belong, and it would take an awful lot to shatter that. A lesson that was beat into me throughout the visit, oft times physically.

Being the slut that I am, my cunt gushed with desire the moment I laid eyes on my Owner. It had been months since this slut had been allowed to orgasm, and much teasing and stimulation was added that that torture for her amusement. I loved enduring it, my body has never felt so owned, so controlled. I feared she would send me home unsatisfied, and I tell you, I knew she was considering it. The first few days were spent further teasing, touching, filling me, fucking me, probing me until I thought I would be so pent up with frustration by the time she allowed me release that it wouldn't even be possible to find it. My beautiful labia rings were locked, the weight of the lock settling just so on my smooth shaven cunt, nestling against my lips lightly, teasingly, tortuously. The lock pulled my lips down just so as I moved, caressing my throbbing clit. I bit back beggings and pleadings more times than I dare say those few days, struggling to keep my desires where they were expected to be; on her pleasure, not my own.

The lock we were using didn't work so well with my body chemistry so it had to be removed after a few days. I miss that feeling so much. To have my cunt locked, a constant reminder that no one touches me or enters me without her permission, not even myself, was incredible. There is something so deeply satisfying about having the entirety of my sexuality in the hands of another. It brings my arousal and physical pleasure to a whole new level, I can't even begin to describe this discovery. It's like my sexuality exists only to serve and please her, it is no longer something of my own on any level. Now she has a key to it, the only key. Oh I miss that lock there...

The pain I took was purer than anything I remember taking in the past. Her canes, across my thighs and buttocks and breasts...Blessed but did they feel wonderful. The fears and hesitances of the past were gone, replaced by a near desperate need to take what she gave me and take it well. Each cane stroke brought with it a harsh line of pain to my tender flesh, brought screams to my lips and waves of desire to my cunt. My back arched to meet the strokes, screaming in anguish as I struggled to balance the pain and control my body, prevent it from betraying me and disobeying its owner, god forbid. The fear of such thing was enough to qualm that need, but I daresay I came quite close, too close, many a time.

The first time she caned me this visit will forever be etched in my memory as the most incredible caning I've ever received. My body was so ready, my endurance seemingly unlimited and the ache was so deep it seemed bottomless. She chose to use the thicker canes, the senior canes moreso than the others. The impact of them left a deep burn and even deeper welts, shuddering through my body and mingling with my arousal. I still feel them now, days later, sitting here writing, my flesh painted with deep purple bruises and gorgeous little twin lines. Even the times when the pain is great and my mind isn't quite so keen on taking them as well, I can't help but crave this from the very core of my submission, my service. The joy on her face as she gives them to me is worth near anything.

The canes used to be something I took for me, and I prided myself on being able to take them well, remaining so still, no sound from my lips. Almost like it was a competition, to show how well I could take it, to impress others with my stoic nature. The thrill of such things, the need for such things, is long gone, and seems silly and insignificant now. I let myself feel them, allowed my body and voice to react freely. Screams and grunts of intermingled pain and desperate pleasure flowed from my lips and for once, I didn't try to restrain them. I squirmed and arched and writhed as the impact of the rattan rods sent tremors through me, meeting the ache of my loins and leaving me gasping, begging, pleading for more. Please Ma'am, may I have another?! Those words have never left my lips with such conviction, such honesty. Yes...I love her canes.

I embraced my pony side for the first time with her. It was a bit of a struggle at first; I felt shy about taking something that had remained so private inside me for so long and letting it come out, letting her be free. Before we went out to a party for the night, she had me lube my ass and kneel on the bed, gently pressing a plug inside me. I could feel the soft hair trailing from the plug securely in my bottom and tickling the back of my legs. I felt tears prick my eyes, wanting so badly to express this side of me but so nervous I would somehow fail. I'm not sure if she had planned to take me to the party as her pony and decided I wasn't quite ready for that, but regardless, it was my first real feeling of being pony with her, and I fought between hanging on to the privacy of it and displaying it with pride. I never did quite make it to displaying it as well as I wished to, but there is time for that, and I know in time she will have a well trained pony just bursting with that pride.

The next morning we lay together on the bed, her and I and Cali, cuddling and just being. My hair was a mess and I looked at the brush on the bedside, suddenly overcome with the need to be pony. I wanted to take the brush in my mouth and crawl over to her and gaze at her with big pony eyes but again my nerves got the best of me, and instead I whispered a nearly inaudible request that the pony be brushed. She ordered me to put on my pony panties, silky red with a long soft tail of hair that matched my mane near perfectly, a gift from her the previous night. I obliged happily, crawling over to her on the bed with my tail swishing behind me, brush and reins dropped in her lap. The reins were my gift to her. Or Cherish's gift to her, I should say. She slipped the bit in my mouth, the reins pooling in front of me, dragging the brush lightly over my body. I closed my eyes and smiled, leaning into her attentions, watching her lovingly and just being there, quiet and calm and happy and loved. The bit fit firm in my mouth, the rein clips jingling against the side of my lips. Subtle as the transformation was, I felt it strongly inside and the makings of a fine pony were born inside me that morning. Brand new and clumsy yet, but with an unlimited and beautiful potential.

We attended a kink party one evening. It was overwhelming for me to be around so many new people, unsure of how to communicate, my confidence at an all time low. The swinging bed became available and Ma'am ordered me to lay out the toys and fetch a blanket. I returned with the blanket to an order to strip of my clothes. I felt the blood drain from my face, gulping but obeying. If I felt vulnerable with the protection of my clothes and knowing I was likely not under anyone's scrutiny, it was nothing to being completely naked and on display. She had me kneel and asked me sternly why I was made to kneel and what my focus was to be. I murmured that it was my place and my focus was to be on her, and abruptly the nervousness trickled away, replaced by a calm. I was fine. I was hers.

I knelt for what seemed forever, my knees aching and screaming for me to readust my position, but I held it, taking the pain as I knew she expected. I must have been wringing my hands, as I felt her touch on my fingers, a silent order to stop. It's the smallest things that make me feel the most Owned.

After a bit she tapped me to get my attention and ordered me into parade rest...standing, legs spread slightly, hands clasped behind my back and my posture straight. I spend 10 minutes like this every morning, focusing on my submission, my place, my purpose, so I fell into the position with eyes, closing my eyes as directed. This felt even more vulnerable than kneeling, as there was nowhere to hide. I was pleased to realize that I no longer felt the desire to hide, and my focus was exactly where she wanted it. It felt exquisite. In a way, this was yet another limit I was stripped of. In my time as her property, I have been stripped of many and while I've been naked in public before, I have never been on display like that. I felt more confident, I felt beautiful. She obviously felt I was beautiful enough to put me on display like that to her friends and peers, and the lesson in that was not lost on me.

She helped me up on the bed, which was an experience in and of itself. The rocking was discomforting at first, but soon it lulled me into relaxation. I felt her hands on me, rubbing over my body gently. Her floggers and quirt bit into my flesh, the toys blurring together. I started crying at some point for no reason at all other than it was ok to do so. Cali practiced with a new single tail on me for a bit while Ma'am leaned across my back, her weight and warmth felt wonderful, as did the sharp sting of the tail.

Afterwards, allowed to sit at her feet again, I rested my head in her lap, content and happy. I wished badly I had done better, found that calm earlier in the evening and been able to socialize more and serve her better, but there is nothing to regret in an opportunity to improve and an experience to learn from, and I am well taught to know that is what is expected of me.

I'll come back to this in awhile...this feels like a good note to end this post on.

Ma'am calls me her lypiphera...many have wondered what it means.

I am her pain-bearer. No matter how much pain she is giving me, no matter how much it hurts and how badly I think I want it to stop, I crave more. I can be screaming, crying, sobbing, begging (all of which I did), but when she stops and the pain ceases, all I can think of is that I want more.

One thing that tests this endurance to the limit is cutting. Her blade dragging across my flesh, teasing me with the tip, scratching lightly into my skin....can have me writhing in pleasure and my cunt throbbing with need. When she goes deeper however, and actually cuts me, drawing blood...the pain comes in waves so pure I can hardly stand it, yet I crave it beyound belief.

Last time I visited, she carved a marque into my back, marking me as her slave. I am blessed (or cursed, as I sometimes feel) with very fast healing skin. Even the most severe marks and bruises fade within days, sometimes hours, leaving my skin vigin and new. The marque didn't scar as visibily as she would have liked, so it was to be redone. The last time she cut me, I didn't remain very still, didn't feel I took it very well. This time I vowed I would do better, and put every effort into remaining still and quiet and taking it well.

Alas, it wasn't meant to be that way.

The moment the blade touched my skin, carving its way into my flesh, drawing its blood, I screamed and writhed. The pain was intense and despite every effort, I just could not remain still, could not take it well. I cried and pleaded, digging my fingers into the bed, panting and focusing on keeping still but my body had a mind of its own. I finally just gave in and let myself feel, let myself react and prayed my Owner would see my efforts and that they would be enough, despite failing rather dismally with my goal to stay still.

When it was over, when she was done....the pain faded, and I cried some more. This time because it stopped.

There is something about enduring a pain that you do not enjoy, which you cannot eroticize, that is fucking amazing. Cutting and biting are two such pains. There is nothing erotic about them for me, I find no physical enjoyment to the pain that comes with teeth sinking wickedly into my skin or sharp blades carving my flesh, yet mentally it offers so much. Taking them and not enjoying them reminds me how owned I am, how little control I have over what happens to my body, how much she can choose to make me endure for her pleasure. I used to try to find a way to enjoy these things, but now....no, now I just take them and savour the pain for exactly what it is. Pure pain. Afterwards, I am left exhausted inside and out, tears staining my cheeks, my eyes sore and swollen and my limbs aching from the strain of attempts to remain still, not to mention the pain of the cutting and biting itself. I feel so alive in those moments and for someone that has to really work hard to not keep things bottled up, to express those feelings without reserve is a wonderful release. I feel strongly connected and close to Ma'am in those moments. No walls.

I remember wryly thinking that which doesn't kill you only makes you stronger. Cliche as it may sound, there is truth to that statement. Taking a pain I do not enjoy, doing chores I wish not to do...puts me in touch with what it means to serve fully. The things that are hardest for me to do and endure are the very things that make me feel my submission the strongest.

She recut it the next morning, opening the wound afresh the day that we parted. I don't even have words to describe the pain of a second time over, but that's alright, I don't need them. It was beautiful to endure, that's all I can say, and the fresh pain kept the memory of the morning alive through the day, making the pain of parting a little less hard to bare.

The marque healed with lightening fast speed, as I knew it would. The pattern is vivid and visible, but I have a feeling there is much to endure yet before this marque is permanent. My blood is hers to take.

I experienced a new form of torture that visit as well; fireplay. I love waxplay, it is a rare treat but absolutely one of my favourite forms of play. I dare say I have a new favourite now. The feeling of the flames crawling across my naked flesh was...*shivers remembering* just incredible. She'd take the alcohol-dipped wand and trace a path across my leg, between my breasts, down my stomach, lighting each path after she applied it with the torch, watching with an evil smile as the flames whipped along. I could feel the fire licking at my skin, teasingly caressing me but never burning, lingering just long enough to make my heart jump in fear before disaappearing as if they were never there. My skin wasn't the only thing on fire, so to speak...my cunt was burning with desire. Such a mindfuck, that was...

She sent me home with my new everyday collar around my neck. My previous one was gorgeous, but parts of it were not sterling silver and my neck reacted to it. Ma'am allowed me to look for another that wouldn't cause those problems, and I found a beautiful alternative. A simple silver choker elegantly etched with what reminds me of waves and cherry blossoms. Very fitting, as my Owner's symbol is the dolphin, and mine is the cherry blossom. It screws on with tiny alien screws, so is as close to a non-padlocked locking collar as one could get. Seeing how hard it was to get on, I'm not inclined to see any reason to ask permission to remove it, that's for certain. I love the feeling of being locked, and while this is not quite the same as my slave collar which is padlocked on with a key I've never touched, it *feels* locked, and feels wonderful. She tells me it looks beautiful on me, and I smile and glow from the compliment. She makes me feel beautiful, always.

The inside is engraved. garnet - Her slave. I rub my fingers lightly along the smooth interior when I'm missing her or feeling lonely, and the feeling of those letters makes me feel closer and remember my place. I am her slave and depsite hardships, fears, irrational reactions, mistakes...that place never changes, never wavers. My place is much like a padlock, with Ma'am holding the only key that could release me from it. That's another key I've never laid a touch on, and have no desire to do so.

I've been meaning to write about this for quite some time now, but for some reason have been savoring keeping it to myself for awhile. However, the horny slut diaries must go on, and I know some people are curious on whether I ever got to come or not!

By the time my visit to Ma'am finally came at the beginning of September, I hadn't been allowed an orgasm for months. I don't recall the exact number of days, but it was the longest I've ever gone without an orgasm. I was craving her touch so badly my cunt was gushing wet from the moment the plane landed and a text greeting from her popped up on my phone. The anticipation made me feel like an impatient little kid in a toy store and I had to struggle to keep my focus where it was expected. I knew it was very likely she would choose to not touch me or not allow me to orgasm at all. The thought made me groan out loud and bite my lip fearfully. It had taken some serious self-restraint to handle the denial thus far...I wasn't sure that restraint would last a weekend in her presence.

I'm not allowed clothing when in her room, so much of my time was spent naked. Ma'am would pinch a nipple or brush her hands lightly across my smooth shaved mound, stroking the rings on either of my labia lips fondly. She loved playing with them, locking them, tugging them, stroking them....and every touch was like a jolt of electricity through my entire body. Each touch, no matter how slight, made me bite my lip till I near tasted blood, refraining from begging her to just FUCK me already! I didn't trust my tone to be contrite, I didn't trust my attitude to be respectful. I wanted to be fucked so badly I could barely stand it anymore.

So fuck me she did. I purchased an assortment of toys awhile back, one of which is a very large, veiny black cock. At nearly 2 inches thick, it is exactly the kind of toy that drives me insane with desire. I love being stretched and filled, to feel the burn of penetration as the toy spreads my lips wide. This cock does that and each stroke feels like it should; deep, hard, thick...fucked. There are times I want to beg her to stop because it hurts, as it should. I love to endure for her, my ultimate pleasure comes in pain and suffering. Months of denial, a quivering, need-driven cunt and a hard fuck qualified as suffering in my book. Especially when she removed it and ordered me to clean up with a smile on her face that told me plainly that an orgasm was not in the cards that night.

She caned me during this endurance, the rod leaving lines of pain in my flesh that melded with my arousal, making me arch my ass in the air and beg for more. As much as I've always loved the cane, I have never honestly begged for it the way I did this visit. Every stroke was a tease, an echo quivering through my body and making me hornier and hornier. It was like she was tuning me, her torture instrument. I did make music, of sorts; screams and gasps and moans and beggings. I still shiver with delight when I think of those cane strokes and long to feel that pain. What a bliss, to have something so painful feel so damn wonderful.

Another evening came, I was naked as usual. One of the most difficult parts of being a slave is not being allowed to offer Ma'am the same pleasures she sometimes allows me. I love to serve and see a look of pleasure on her face. I feel doing so is one of the greatest rewards to being enslaved, to be allowed to serve in such an intimate, loving and complete nature. However, it is something I am rarely allowed, and it takes restraint of a different sort to not touch or kiss or pleasure her more often. Even when I am cherish, her beloved pony, my greatest reward would be to feel her weight on my back, mounting me, using my body to pleasure her own. I often endure what I do in the hopes of being allowed to serve in this manner, to be rewarded with the gift of being allowed to bring her the same intense pleasure she allows me at times.

This particular evening I got to partake in a scene where that service was being given to her...by someone else. I lay there watching her, struggling to contain tears of sexual frustration and pure pain as her teeth bit cruelly into my flesh, aiding her own pleasure with my squeals and cries and whimpers and squirms. I am at my most vulnerable when I am being bitten as the pain is nearly too much for me to bear, and I never bear it quietly or still. The tears were hard and despite it all, my cunt ached with desire to be touched and given the mercy of rele...no, orgasm. I almost chose to say released, but I know it will never be released from her control, not as long as those rings pierce me and her lock dangles between them.

I felt incredibly guilty for crying, fearing my tears would ruin the moment for her of having both her girls with her, both of us offering her pleasure of different sorts, but I couldn't help myself. I felt like I couldn't take anymore and wanted to voice that, but couldn't stand the thought of failing her with my lack of focus. The struggle was painfully real. I've never felt so consumed by sexual needs and so torn between what I want for myself and what I am expected to offer to her. I only hoped she could see that success despite the struggle and appreciate that no matter how hard it got, I obeyed, I endured.

I endured much more that weekend as well. Wonderful scenes of pain under her hand, seeing the look of pure pleasure and enjoyment on her face as she tortured me, sometimes beyond what I thought I could take, and sometimes leaving me wanting more and more. There were times when I near hoped she would not allow me to come, to prolong my torture. Those moments were fleeting, but they were there.

There was one evening where no thoughts of hoping for continued denial came, that's for certain. She snapped a glove over her hand and got out a bottle of lube. I shivered in anticipation, spreading my legs wide. As I've said before, I love being filled, and nothing feels as filling and as wonderful as her fist inside my cunt, thrusting slowly into me and spreading me wide. My moans were as desperate as ever that evening...loud whimpers and groans as her fist slowly but surely worked its way inside me. My body was so ready for it, my breath coming in pants and gasps, wetness trickling down my thighs. She took her time, teasing me, pushing her fist into me harder, enjoying my desperation clenching around her hand. I begged her to allow me to touch and she consented. I lost no time plunging my fingers between my lips, finding my clit with desperate skill, eyes locked on her in silent pleading. And then finally...finally, after three months of wishing, hoping, needing...finally, relief.

I don't even remember her words or much of what happened after she voiced permission...I just remember the profound relief that flooded through me. Three months of consistent teasing and even more consistent denial, the fear it would not be her whim to allow me the pleasure all built up to this finale. It seemed to last forever, waves of pleasure shuddering through me, the throbbing in my nether regions keeping time with my thundering heartbeat. It took a long while after the height of the orgasm subsided for either throbbing to dull and I just lay there, panting, enjoying the aftermath, exhausted, breathing a whispered but very sincere thank You Ma'am. Thank You.

I would say it was the most profound orgasm I've ever had, only....the following two were even more incredible. The evening before I was to leave, she rewarded me with a very rare pleasure indeed, a sort of touch that some dominants might feel to be an act of submission, but there was no trace of submission in her choice. If anything, the control she has over me and my body had never felt as strong as in that moment. I knew she could stop at any time no matter how much I begged her not to. It wasn't something I was even allowed to beg for, a whim that is completely hers to give as she pleases. She parted my lips with her tongue, slowly finding my clit and wrapping around it confidently, probing my most private parts with familiar ease. She had seen and touched and tasted those parts more than anyone; fittingly so, seeing as they belonged wholy to her. Usually I try to hold back the orgasm as long as I can, enjoying the torture of the tease but this time as much as I wanted the sensation to last for ages, I was desperate not to miss any window of opportunity to come with the feel of my Owners lips taking me, lest she change her mind on letting me feel her to completion. That orgasm was one I will never, ever forget.

I sobbed my thanks repeatedly when her lips left me, my desire sated, knowing how rare of a gift I'd just received and all the hornier for it. The thought of that pleasure would drive me to near insanity during the months we were parted and every time we were together here on out, just as the desire to be allowed to please her in such a manner does. I have no doubt she well knew that, just as I well knew I would never dare to beg for the pleasure without an order to do so. This was a rare gift, and I dared never forget that either.

The only thing harder to endure than denial at the height of desire is a reminder of what you are missing.

This morning, as I was about to shower, I asked Ma'am if there was a way I could entertain her while I showered. She ordered me to take my lexan paddle into the shower with me and give myself 25 strokes on each inner thigh and cheek before enjoying my shower completely. One of my favorite ways to masturbate is by the pulsing head of the shower. I turn the water hotter and hotter, spreading my lips and letting the spray beat cruelly on my clit mercilessly with near scalding water. I hold that torture as long as I can, bringing myself to the brink of orgasm and backing off only to do it all over again until I cannot tolerate it anymore, my clit near numb from attention. The orgasm of this ritual leaves me so weak in the knees and trembling I have to sit there awhile and gain my composure before I trust my legs to carry me out of the shower.

This morning was no different, the throbbing pain in my thighs and ass from the sting of the lexan only adding to my arousal. Lexan is cruel in the best of time; applying it to wet flesh is nothing short of torture. When I finished the spanking, I set the paddle aside and sank down onto the rim of the tub, grinding my ass into the hard edge, water licking harshly between my spread thighs, on the brink of an orgasm that just would not come. I wanted it, I assure you, but what I wanted even more was to please my owner, to feel her control tight and unforgiving across this awful distance that separates us. I wanted to suffer for her again, to give up rare rewards of orgasm in hopes of the immense reward of simply pleasing her and making her smile for my suffering.

I shut the shower off and stumbled into the bedroom without bothering to dry off, dropping to my knees beside the bed and grabbing my phone, sending her a desperate text message as tears ran down my cheeks, mingling with the droplets of water from my dripping hair and eyelashes. My question was one I knew the answer to, but I needed to ask for some absurd reason. Perhaps to get up the nerve to ask my next question as I wasn't altogether sure I could find the words. Did it please her more to allow her slut a whim of pleasure, or to know she suffers in denial? Both pleased her. However, she was a sadist, and this I knew. And she confirmed.

I gave up finding the words for my next query and just stumbled over the words and hitting send, dropping the phone onto the bed and clenching my hands together, resting my head on my fist in effort to keep my hands from straying between my legs, from disobeying a request before it was even granted. "Would it please my Ma'am to make her cunt suffer again in denial until she is again at Her hand?" I told her how I masturbated, how much my cunt wanted it. "Please....deny me. Allow me to suffer for you...I beg you..."

She reminded me there was no telling when she should feel generous again....and granted my request.

I cried at her answer, sobbing partially out of gratitude and partially out of knowing what I was in for, having endured it once before. I wouldn't see her again until January. More than three months yet. My thoughts wandered to that rare reward, the blissful feeling of her lips on my cunt, taking me completely and allowing me the most incredible pleasure I've ever known. Yes...sometimes the reminder of what you are missing is the cruelest endurance of them all. Yet I am her lypiphera, her enslaved pain-bearer. Tis that cruelty that I am meant to bear.

Her next words, said with a chuckle, made me shudder. Not from cold despite my naked and still wet form curled up on the bed, but in fear of the limits she would take me to this time around.li

"You've only stoked the beast, lypiphera. This you know."

This I knew.

I think it's time for another chapter of The Horny Slut Diaries.

As you likely know if you've been following this journal, I begged Ma'am to not allow me to orgasm until I saw her again...in January. I stoked the beast, as she so eloquently put it, with this request...and I've had bits and tastes of that since my request was granted.

One evening she ordered me to take a photo of my cunt held open with my clover clamps and her cock inside me. Since I no longer have a digital camera, I wasn't really sure how to do this since my phone for some reason doesn't allow me to send pictures to anyone anymore. The solution was to use my web cam to take a snapshot. I went one step further and took a video of me spreading my lips open and inserting the cock. After I removed it, I cleaned it off as she always expects me to clean toys inserted into my cunt; by licking and sucking my juices off of it. Ma'am enjoyed this so much she ordered a new video to be sent every day for the remainder of the week. I was allowed to do anything I like, but of course, orgasm was not an option.

The first video I chose to do was of a punishment she assigned me for allowing my phone to go dead, cutting our time together one evening short. I'm responsible for making sure my phone is kept charged at all times, and I carelessly left my charger at work, as well as forgot to charge the phone the previous evening. So by the next evening, the phone was dead by 11 PM. Not a happy Owner.

I was ordered to do 200 strokes at a high level with a leather dog collar on the fronts and sides of my thighs and 15 on my cunt....with Toast applied to my cunt first. She knew this would be tough for me, but she expected it and it was to be done promptly. Finding a place to do this with enough light was hard...the light was either too dim or too bright and washed the picture out, but I found a semi-suitable lighting environment and made various videos to capture the entire punishment. Despite being long distance and proxy, she doesn't often have me send any kind of "proof" of my assignments and orders as the trust in our relationship is very solid. I knew she would enjoy watching and hearing her orders carried out. The last 15 were the hardest. I allowed the Toast to sit for awhile before I began so it would hurt as she expected, and it certainly did. It took a lot of struggle to keep going as expected, and the time limit on the videos actually helped me carry out my orders properly as I didn't want to have to start over if I slacked too long between sets. My final video was an apology and gratitude video, which was perhaps the hardest of all to do, as I was feeling very humiliated and chastised.

Another video I took was a recreation of sorts of a Wednesday night ritual I have. Every Wed I "stretch" my cunt with a large butt plug that is used solely for that purpose. It is quite a stretch to get in and feels very very filling. I keep it in for 30 minutes and I am not allowed to do anything in that time but lay there and think of serving her, focusing on my place and her expectations. She's never seen me do this, and while I realized 30 minutes would be too long to video, I decided it would make a good subject for the video nonetheless. I lay naked on the cold tiles of the bathroom, spread my legs, lubed up and slowly inserted the plug. My moans were quite loud on this one in my opinion....stretching myself so much turns me on to no end. I lay there for a moment and began to touch, my fingers sliding expertly across my clit, my cunt stretched wide open and my skin tingling from the chill of the tile. I teased myself until I was so close on the brink of orgasm I could feel the tiniest taste of what I would get if I just kept touching, but wisely I pulled my fingers away and lay there gasping, afraid to move as to trigger the orgasm that was so dangerously near. I knew I wouldn't fail my orders to not orgasm as it simply was not an option, but I was dangerously on the edge there.

My final video of the assignment was an assortment of things. I had asked and received permission to purchase a gag with a 40% off coupon I had from Autumn's Sub Shop. We have tried various homemade options that work alright, but it was hard to find something that would muffle as well as stay put, but that I could still bite down on to give my jaw enough relief to be safe to wear for a period of time. I found a stuffed leather gag that was perfect. It arrived the day my final video was due and I was anxious to try it. Gags are something that have always been a limit to me prior to Ma'am, but now I get an entirely new feeling out of them. I love the feeling of helplessness it gives me, of having my mouth taken and used, of having yet another control so firmly in her grasp. The gag was quite a bit more of a stretch than I expected and took some getting used to, but after a moment, I adjusted.

I plugged my ass with a small plug and found 5 plastic clothespins, carefully placing 2 on each side of my labia. I ran my fingers through the clips, feeling them tug and jostle against each other, knowing that in awhile I would not be able to do that without it hurting much more. I leaned back and picked up the loopy, 3 looped thin strands of rubber on a handle, bringing it down as hard as I could across my clipped and aching cunt. Already I winced a bit at the touch and I had plans for much more. I slipped the new gag into my mouth, securing it firmly and readjusted the camera down to my thighs. After a bit more looping, posing and touching, I slowly inserted a thick dildo between the mass of clothespins, inserting it deep inside me, working up such a rhythm to the fucking my hand was a blur on the camera. I stopped at one point and removed the cock, adding a clip to my clit and adjusting it a few times until it would stay firm in place despite my wetness, and resumed the thrusting until I was so near orgasm I had to stop. To distract myself from the desperate desire to lose myself in release I wasn't allowed, I slowly removed the clips, biting hard into the gag as I pulled each one off to a burst of renewed pain.

The second video started out with me lubing my ass, the thick cock that had been in my cunt until now sitting innocently to the side. I've felt it in my ass before, but it is a struggle to insert and very filling. I slowly and clumsily eased it into my ass, taking the time to be careful but not so careful that it wouldn't hurt for her. My intentions was to display myself as a well used slut, and the more discomfort I could dish out, the better that effect would be. I finally got the cock in my ass and sat up, pressing against the hard floor to plant it firmly inside me. I leaned against the wall, shivering at the chill from the tile and spread my legs, taking one of the clothespins from earlier and clipping my clit with it again. I wondered if she could hear my little muffled screams of protest as my own finger flicked evilly against the clamp, sending a jolt of pain through my cunt before removing it. I readjusted the cock in my ass, thrusting my hips in the air and bearing down hard on my ass, fucking the cock as hard as I could. My body rocked back and forth with an embarrassing desperation, my finger working hard against my sore clit. It felt good to touch to an extent, but it was more torture than pleasure as the nub was sore and throbbing from the abuse of the clips.

The bounce of my breasts as I fucked that cock into my ass gave me a further idea and I quickly readjusted the camera to clamp two clothespins quickly to my nipples, pulling my breasts out and letting them bounce back. Ma'am does this often when we are together, and I knew she would enjoy that little touch. I resumed my fucking, alternating the camera between views of my gagged mouth and desperate pleading eyes, my bouncing, clamped breasts and my filled ass and thrusting hips. I fucked again until near orgasm, moaning as I stopped, my body shaking from exertion and desire. In efforts again to distract myself from the orgasm that was so near yet so out of my reach, I unclamped my screaming nipples, quickly clamping them again and pulling the clips off before adjusting the camera back up to my still gagged mouth and still pleading eyes, signing "thank you" with as much grace as I could manage despite my humiliation. And it was over.

Ma'am was pleased with these videos to say the least and has ordered two more for this week. I could chose to spank myself some more or do other things that don't involve touching myself in ways that make the torture of denial tenfold worse, but...I begged my way into this, and the slut in me, the slave in me, wants to display the sincerity of that request as often as I have opportunity to do so. Each touch, every feel of being filled, every challenge of stopping myself so near to what would normally be my goal...is torture. My desperation is extremely sincere. As is my desire to suffer for her.

I blush to my toes every time I think of her watching these videos. I can't usually even stand having my photo taken, so 10 minute long videos of myself so exposed and desperate and on display is beyound humiliation. My body however, belongs to her, and I will not deny there is a certain pride in displaying it for her so openly.

It all started with me trying to make Ma'am smile.

Don't get me wrong....I'm glad I DID make her smile, but I wasn't quite expecting to make her flat out grin...

I like making Ma'am smile. I love to do things and leave her messages detailing my little adventures for her to see when she wakes up. They are often pretty minimal 'adventures", granted, but like they say, it's the thought that counts, right?

So one morning a few days ago, I was rummaging through my toy bag for a pair of scissors I knew were in there. I happened upon my lexan paddle at the bottom of the bag, which hasn't been used in quite some time. I took it with me to the bathroom, took my shower, and after spending 10 minutes in parade rest thinking positive things about my submission and ways to serve better (a required morning ritual), I gave myself 30 on my fresh shaved cunt with the lexan.

I messaged Ma'am to tell her about it, and she inquired as to what made me do that. I was a bit nervous at first, realizing I hadn't had permission to touch myself like that, even if it was the paddle applying pain and the rule specifically applies to not touching in pleasurable ways. But still, I didn't have permission, so I hesitated a bit before finally answering having realized that it was a done deal anyhow so there was nothing I could say other than the truth. I hoped to make her smile. Pain usually makes Ma'am smile...she's wicked in that way.

She acknowledged my reply with a nondescript "ah", which had me squirming a bit wondering if I was in trouble or had pleased her. Her next reply informed me that adding a little toast would make her smile even more and that alas, just the mere thought of it had already done so! Of course, that didn't mean I was off the hook, and the toast was applied. I thanked her for her attentions and before she went off to sleep before work, she ordered me to apply more toast at 3, 7, and 11.

I spent the day squirming in dread, looking at the clock more often than was really necessary, finding ways to excuse myself at work at the appointed times to apply the dreaded stuff to my sore lips. It takes a good 5 minutes to really start burning, and it only gets worse from there. It can take a solid 30 minutes or more to completely fade, and about halfway into that time it reaches a peak burn level for me. Walking is a chore. Moving in general is ill advised as every breath of a movement feeds the fire. Trying to get through my work and hide all these reactions from my coworker when I can barely breath normal through the pain is exhilarating and just plain awful all at once.

She signed off with a reminder to me to wear it well, and I'm happy to say I did.

We started our evening conversations with Ma'am asking me how my cunt was and if I was happy to serve, addressing me as "little slave", which always makes me feel good. I informed her I was sore, but always happy to serve. Her first though on waking was the condition of my cunt, which made me smile even more, looking forward to the chance to show her just how happy I really was to serve.

We fooled around for awhile, exchanging teases about me being a wench, with me twisting her words and her twisting mine right back, a playful slightly bratty moment that turned serious when she told her saucy wench it was time to get that cunt filled to the limit. I could feel the wetness spreading between my legs as she said the words, no need for lube as I guided the thickest dildo I had deep into my cunt, squeezing my legs together with a groan as every nerve in my body responded to the invasion. I knew the chances of my being allowed an orgasm were slim to none, so every move seemed that much more torturous. This was for Ma'ams amusement and pleasure, and the only pleasure I would get out of it was gratitude at being allowed to serve her. It thrills me how my arousal continues to be felt as grateful service rather than a self-fulfilling desire. The desire to orgasm becomes less and less something I long for unless it is precisely what will amuse Ma'am. I rarely even think of release first and foremost anymore, rather my biggest desire is to obeying her wishes well and get my body into a state of suffering, longing to be used as amusement, to be toyed with. Service is my new climax.

With my cunt filled and body trembling in anticipation, I squirmed as I settled back into bed with my toybag nearby. Ma'am informed me my filled cunt would soon have company, and my ass was filled with a plug. I lay there naked, both holes filled and throbbing and wet, grinding my hips into the bed now and then to keep them inside me.

Ma'am giggled (a rather scary thing, really) as she remembered it was 30 minutes until my next appointed toast time, so perhaps I needed to be warmed up a bit in preparation. Menthol toast doesn't have quite the burn and pain factor that Screaming toast does, so the layer of mint I applied tingled pleasantly, feeding my arousal with the stimulation and slight pain. This was a level of pain I could enjoy, not dread. I closed my eyes and lay there as the sensation grew stronger, imagining Ma'am there inspecting me, blushing at the thought of her inserting the plugs in me herself and enjoying her toy, her property, enjoying my embarrassment at being so exposed and my readiness and wetness to be played with and used.

After a bit, she asked me what I felt. I told her I felt joy for amusing her, for taking her pain and pleasure. It is such a rewarding feeling, to know I am amusing her from all this distance away, knowing she trusts me to do as she orders and do it well.

She murmured pet names to me as I lay there squirming, feeling both toys fuck deeper inside me with every move. She ordered me to touch, and I did...stroking my fingers over my lips and clit slowly, savoring the feeling, toying with my labia rings as my fingers dove in and out of my sore, burning lips. She allowed me to touch much longer than I expected and soon I had to struggle to contain the orgasm while still touching, as I hadn't been told to stop yet. Slowing the pace of the touching usually makes it much harder for me to climax as slow, light touches bring me to that state more so than hard and quick. I pressed my finger hard onto my clit, increasing the pace of my touches until I was grinding into it painfully, pushing the need to orgasm back a bit. I longed just then to be bitten....to be teased and teased and then have her teeth sink into me with her body fucking against my hand, allowing me the release as she pulled blood from my shoulder with her bite. I freed my trembling hands to type out a text to Ma'am, sharing my desire to be fucked to orgasm. She informed me that was not on her agenda, but I already knew that.

She smiled and told me I would be sleeping naked, turning over in her head how filled I would be in the night. At first I misunderstood her words as saying she was pondering which toy she would leave in, if any....after a few moments I realized with a moan that she intended me to stay quite filled, just as I was, all night long. She ordered me to touch again and I bit my lip near hard enough to taste blood, my fingers playing a slow show across my hardened, throbbing nub, my hips grinding into the bed to push the toys deep inside, wondering if they would stay put in the night. I shared a whimper with Ma'am and she told me enough. I pulled my hand away, feeling a mixture of gratitude that the torture of containing my body's desire to orgasm was lessened, and longing desperately for that rare pleasurable touch.

I thanked her properly and she dismissed me for bed. It didn't take me long to fall asleep surprisingly, although the sleep was interrupted a few times in the night by the plug working its way out, needing to be readjusted. I woke in the morning still filled, my cunt throbbing still, but this time from the discomfort of being filled so full for so long. My ass was burning...I don't always take plugs very well and wearing one for so long was truly a struggle. I was tired from the restless sleep....but happy at the opportunity to serve and suffer.

I near waddled to the bathroom to get ready for work, falling to my knees on the cold tile and texting Ma'am for permission to empty myself. She asked if I was asking from my knees, and I smiled big, pleased I had anticipated her expectations and informed her I was. She rewarded me with a very please "good girl"...and permission to remove the toys.

I felt the throbbing and burning of a well used wench all day. Happy slave. Happy Owner.

This isn't REALLY a Horny Slut Diary post, but heck, I'm horny, I'm a slut, this is my diary....it fits, no?

I did a search on Wooden Pony for my previous post and although I only found one good photo, I felt a rush of wet and heat between my legs, my nipples tightening and my lower lip inching its way beneath the upper to rest between my teeth, near tasting blood at the sudden surge of desire.

A fantastic post by a friend on face slapping made it ten times worse.

Thank god tonight is not stretching night. I'm not sure I could contain myself with these fantasies in my head.

So, being the tease-loving-slut that I am, I'm going to talk about these things a bit and make the situation even worse for myself. Masochistic? Me? Nah....

As I mentioned earlier, I've been fascinated with the wooden pony concept since I was very very young. I have vivid memories (which is surprising considering how bad my memory is) of being on my swing set in the winter, with a snowsuit on, straddling the A frame on my swing set wooden pony style. It kind of squicks me out to think about that, as imagining a child that young having such BDSM type fantasies and acting on them just seems odd to me, but heck, it happened and it's the past so whatever. I don't recall the physical sensations it gave me at all....I just remember doing it and imagining the "devil" was ordering me to do this or else. When I was young, the devil was my childlike imagining of a dominant figure I guess.

I've had many fantasies since of the wooden pony. To be honest, the concept terrifies me. I can't even imagine how painful that would be and I know my body would not hold up to the kind of bondage and effort that goes with it, but damn if I don't want to find out. My cunt just tingles and spasms at the thought of such torture, such humiliation. I can just imagine Ma'am walking around me, admiring me, making me squirm and scream. I don't have any idea what her thoughts on this are, but I know she has desires to see me in extreme pain. Those desires scare me knowing she has them. My own scare me knowing I have them. The worst of it all is how badly I sometimes want to be in that situation, to be made to take pain I really cannot handle, to completely break down and sob and beg for it to stop and think of nothing but surviving it and hoping it will end soon....and looking up and seeing pure, unleashed pleasure in my Owners eyes.

Which brings me to another fantasy. I love to hate face slapping. I've written before that I feel it is the ultimate act of control. It makes me angry. I love the struggle to control my emotions, to submit to it and take it despite the humiliation I feel, despite the pain. Usually I am slapped in discipline of sorts; when I don't answer properly or fast enough. When I am too relaxed in my demeanor with Ma'am or am smart mouthed. Sometimes just because she wants to (my favourite). It's usually only a hard slap or two. I don't recall ever being slapped more than three times in a row, and even that was with long pauses between.

I have always struggled with admitting that I love the things that I do, kink-wise. I have a hard time saying "yes, I enjoy this pain, I want this just because it feels good". It's not that I am ashamed...it just doesn't work for me to be getting something because I want it, to be enjoying something for my pleasure. It works better in my head when it is forced on me, when I have no say or control, when I hate it and have no way to stop it. I don't know if that is just how submission works in my head or what the deal is, but even years ago when I first started exploring, everything needed to have a disciplinary reason behind it. Being spanked because I WANTED it was a boring notion to me. My experience with canes was the first time I admitted to enjoying something just for what it was; pain.

Suddenly I'm consumed with the desire to beg her to slap me and push me, all at once. To slap for no reason than to just because she wants to hurt me and PUSH me. No matter if she marks my face....we would find some way to explain it off (and admittedly, I would wear the mark with pride). No matter if I hate every minute of it, if I find that my limit for loving to be slapped IS in fact only 3 well spaced slaps. No matter if it is taboo. Just slap me, over and over, hard...fast...harder yet when I flinch or look away. I imagine her grabbing my hair and pulling me back into position with a sharp order that I am to take the pain she is giving me and don't I dare try to move away. I quiver when she speaks to me like this, I can feel the fear burning in my eyes as I struggle to obey. Slap me until I'm crying and begging her to stop. Pushing every limit of taboo, of safety even. Yes, it's edgy and it messes with both of our pasts in some way or another. But fuck it anyhow, I want to beg for it.

See a theme here? This dark desire to take the things that I love to hate the most (pussy torture and slapping) and pushing them into the boundaries that take away that enjoyment and truly make me suffer? It scares me how bad I want this, how badly I hope Ma'am's desires include these fantasies as well. I hope she reads this and that slow smile spreads across her face, the one that silently yet so loudly proclaims "I want to see my slave suffer for me".

Sometimes Ma'am will greet me with short, direct orders. The above statement was a recent example, meaning 8 minutes of the clover clamps. Various times throughout the day I would read a text with variations of "8", so by the end of the day, said nipples were very sore. Not to mention it was my time of the month, which added a whole other level of soreness to the situation.

Last night my first greeting of the day was a simple, curt "location". I've been rather busy lately and not getting home until late, and have had a lot of company. Thus, timing hasn't been very good as I am often unavailable for Ma'am. Not that I am ever allowed to be completely unavailable to her, but where I am and what I am doing at the time affects what she orders me to do. I am required to inform her when I have company or when I have the house completely to myself, or anything else that may affect my service to her (working late, driving, etc). I tend to not remember this so well, since my days are so crazy and unplanned most of the time.

If you have been reading my journal, you all know I have not had an orgasm since January. Saturday night, Ma'am surprised me by texting an order for me to come for her on camera and send her the video. I thought I had misread at first, as usually I am not allowed release unless it is by her hand. However, she had the whim to see me come for her, and ordered me to do so.

Flustered by the unexpected order and the fact that I had company, I pondered what to do for a moment, trying to figure out how I could firstly get my bag out of the room my friend was sleeping in, and secondly, film myself coming after 3 months of denial without waking said friend as my house is very small and there is no basement. The obvious solution to this problem was to ask permission to be gagged for the duration of the video (and I could have run the shower to further muffle sound as well), but I didn't think it through, and instead immediately asked permission to make the video the next morning, when I had more privacy.

Ma'am declined, informing me her whim was now, but perhaps she would have it again at another time.

I felt unsettled the rest of the evening, firstly for failing to entertain Ma'am, and secondly because damnit, the realization of how close I had come to release was hanging over my head and making my cunt throb.

"Location". That's all the message said and despite being a question, it wasn't phrased as such which immediately made my heart skip a beat or two. I informed Ma'am I was at home in bed (while thanking the gods that I was; I would have hated to inform her I was yet again unavailable to her whims). The next message was just as curt: "double now".

I quickly undressed and found my bag, easing a plug into my ass and her thick cock into my cunt with a groan, knowing the rest of the evening would not be easy, especially with the reminder of my previous post yesterday nagging at my conscious. I informed Ma'am I was filled and soon wore my leather collar around my neck as well, a thin leash dangling from the collar and hooked around my wrist. This was new...I can only recall being leashed a few times, and never without Ma'am present. This new little addition really put my head in a nice place, as I absolutely love the look and feel of being leashed and led around.

My thoughts still on the thrill of the leash, the lecture caught me a little off guard. She asked if I recalled being told to inform her when I was either alone or had company, and I felt my face flush hot as I indeed did recall that rule, a tad too late. Since I HAD told her H was staying, I got a bit defensive and told Ma'am as much, to which she responded that it wasn't what I told her, but rather when I told her (in other words, too late). Chastised, I agreed that telling her sooner would have been much wiser and when asked why, I shared my realization that not making her aware of situations which could affect my service to her was no different than disobeying an order. It isn't her duty to make sure she has the information she needs to make decisions on when and how to use her property.

She nodded her approval of my answer, and told me to clamp again. 10 minutes.

My poor nipples have seen a lot of abuse these past few days :(

Between orders to tug and squeeze the clamps (ow!!), the lecture continued, with reminders that I indeed could have asked permission to clamp and woe be me had her desire been a thorough spanking.

After unclamping and curling up in bed to catch my breath (my nipples really did hurt more than usual), my mind wandered a bit, thinking that Ma'ams efforts to teach me to not put emotions and feelings into words that are not there must be setting root into my brain a bit firmer as in the past, I would have immediately gotten worried she was angry at me and gotten overly defensive and even hurt at her tone and the resulting lecture. Reading my mind, as she often seems to, she ordered me to answer her true, did she appear angry? Blinking through my surprise at her verbalizing my silent thoughts I shared the answer with her. Not angry Ma'am...firm perhaps.

Her praise for my correct realization was slight, but I felt a moment of pride at a lesson taking root as such. I love when she is firm with me as I do need a firm hand and always have, it is one of the reasons she has taken me where no one else has even glimpsed, as far as my submission goes. Despite needing that firmness, I didn't often react well to it emotionally. It felt good to recognize the moment as one of training and discipline rather than assume anger and disappointment that wasn't there and focusing my reactions and thoughts in the wrong direction. This was significant to me. To both of us, I'm certain.

She ordered me to my knees, clamped, with a warning not to lose my plugs. I instinctively squeezed my thighs and ass tighter as I sank to my knees, clamping the clovers in place carefully and sucking my breath in at the pain. After a few moments of reflection, she allowed me to unclamp again and get back into bed. More pain followed with orders to take the hairbrush to my thighs, punctuated with my pleadings of appreciation for her attentions.

"Now tell me why your body suffers?"

I didn't have to think much on this answer, it's one I know well. For my Owners amusement. She firmly reminded me it was for my training as well, and asked what I learned this night. I answered meekly that I had learned to pay closer attention to the care I take obeying her orders and to put more thought into how to obey said orders when complications arise. I felt my face flush again as I said the words, knowing I had been taught them before and knowing how much my Owner dislikes repeating herself.

I shared with her my fantasies of being bound on a wooden pony, sweating and groaning as I fucked the board every time my toes tired of keeping my cunt lips from being wedged into the uncomfortable board or rod. This is a fantasy of mine that scares me sometimes with how badly I want it, as I know there is no pleasure to be had at all in such a situation. Many of my fantasies are extreme, but most have at least some aspect of comfort and enjoyable sensation in them. The Wooden Pony has none. The binding position would be intolerable for me, the extent of the pain would have little if no room for pleasure, and the humiliation of such a performance would be very high. Yet I want it, I crave it, I imagine how pleasurable it would be for Ma'am to have me bound up, suffering so greatly, opportunity for her to increase that suffering aplenty with her crops and canes, her clamps, the Toast cream. I know I would cry and beg. I know she'd laugh. It's one of those cravings that makes me her lypiphera as despite my calling it a fantasy, it isn't one. I truly want to suffer for her like that. Hope would be a better word. Hoping for the opportunity.

Bringing me back to my present suffering, she ordered me into panties to keep the plugs in place. I wedged them into the crack of my ass and cunt to help keep the plugs from sliding out, fidgeting at the annoying feeling of the cloth harnessing the toys. She told me how she couldn't wait to cause me the agony herself, to watch me cry and beg her to stop knowing it's not what I want nor what she would do. Begging is funny in that way, how the words are there and sometimes just have to be voiced, but they are often empty vessels, a way to cope with the fact that no matter how much I'm suffering, I really don't want it to stop, and she really really will not until she is damn good and ready.

40 hard strokes with the strap across my plugged cunt followed, and another 40 "with emphasis", until I was torn between my ritual need to be begging for the release of orgasm, and begging for release from the pain.

I begged for neither, collapsing on the bed and shifting my thighs to adjust her cock deeper inside me with a long, low moan. She ordered me to rest and kissed me on the head. I closed my eyes obediently, wrapping my legs around my body pillow and soon felt sleep creeping up on me. I'm used to going to sleep horny now. You don't belong to my Owner without getting used to such things. Permission to sleep was granted and I soon drifted off, my thighs aching, my cunt wet and throbbing and filled and my ass burning from prolonged plugging. The leash that was so comforting was still looped around my wrist, firmly attached to my collar. Such a sentimental thing, my collar and leash. I don't need them to know I belong or to remind I am owned, but they are comforting all the same.

I slept like a baby.

The next morning, I habitually turned on my phone to see if Ma'am had left me orders for the day and intending to ask permission to remove the plugs. I whimpered as I moved and stretched, feeling as if I'd been fucked hard for hours. In some ways, I had been, being so filled all night. Even an hour in a plug or cock for me becomes painful...hours on end get to a point where I just suffer through it without complaint and know it is pleasing my Ma'am to do so. Her orders informed me I was to do my ritual morning time on my knees still filled, with 5 minutes of that added clamped. I was allowed to touch my clit firmly for those 5 minutes, and I recognized it as not a reward, but an order. She meant what she said...firmly, for the entire 5 minutes. She firmly reminded me no fucking of her cock was allowed, and for goodness sakes, don't even dream of coming or asking permission to do so. That part went unspoken. Some lessons take root deeper than others *wry smile*

I did as ordered, asking permission when finished to empty myself. I was referring to the plugs, but the need to go to the bathroom was extremely intense as well, what with plugs pressing against me all night long. The need to urinate actually helped me contain my orgasm from the firm touching, as my cunt was gripped so tightly to hold myself that I doubt I could have orgasmed if I were allowed to. Ma'am told me to go on to the bathroom and unplug, and I gratefully grabbed the towel I had put underneath myself before kneeling in case she expected more stimulation of me than my bladder could contain. I was glad it hadn't come to that. She told me there was a certain intensity when urinating and orgasming at the same time and I told her I'd never tried that.

She just smiled.

*bites lip*...

Anyhow....

There is significance in sharing this, not only because I was ordered to do so, but because it is am important lesson for me and I wish to preserve it for later reminder should I slack again. Part of the difference from when I was her submissive to being her slave is responsibility. I am allowed no limits, and I am not allowed to be unavailable to her. I know Ma'am is a reasonable woman and will take any information and requests I have into consideration, but I am learning to not take that route so quickly. We lead busy lives and her whims and orders will not always be convenient for me. However, that is not an excuse to not follow them. Adjustments can be asked for, suggestions for alternatives made that still allow the whims to be filled in a timely manner and in fact even enhance her pleasure. I could have asked to be gagged and suggested an additional discomfort to my orders to make up for the changes.

The added humiliation of being such a slut with company in the house would have perhaps been appealing to her. It is my responsibility to see to her amusement and to serve her to the best of my ability using the rules and skills as her slave she has taught me. It is also my duty to pay close attention to the rules she sets and make certain opportunities to serve her are not lost or delayed due to my inattentiveness to her expectations.

Ma'am has trained me to be obedient, but she has also trained me to look for opportunities for growth and continued heightened service rather than simply waiting for orders. I failed to do so with recent orders and allowed myself to fall into a rut of worry and avoidance rather than being creative in my obedience. I sometimes complain that I don't feel or see the training she gives me because it isn't as direct or firm as I am wanting but in hindsight, perhaps I just wasn't looking hard enough at the situations that ARE there, and the training moments that result. Can't see the forest for the trees kind of thing.

At any rate, I have a lot to think about. I know that mistakes are learning opportunities, and I feel I have learned and re-learned some significant things from this particular mistake. Most notably that training, although sometimes subtle, is an ongoing thing. It is my responsibility as her property to learn to recognize and appreciate that training, regardless of if it is what I feel I want.

The Beginning (07/22/06)