Am I a slave?

A year ago, I didn’t know about BDSM.

I had fantasies about being controlled, of being owned. But lots of women have those fantasies. I knew that people have fantasies that they would not really want to happen in real life – like rape fantasies, for example – so I assumed that this was the case with my fantasies. In fact, saying I “assumed” this suggests that I gave it more thought than I actually did. I just masturbated to my fantasies and let it go at that.

It boggles my mind that I am now in a 24/7 D/s relationship. And it’s getting more D/s-ish every day. And sexier.

When Richard and I started talking together online 6 months ago, I had been exploring BDSM online for a couple of months, reading erotica, visiting online communities, checking out blogs, etc. I thought I’d figured things out. I was a bedroom submissive, which meant that I found it erotic to be dominated sexually. Outside the bedroom, I was and expected to continue to be very dominant and outspoken in my work and personal life.

This pattern of submissive in the bedroom and dominant outside seems to be quite common. I’ve seen many online posts and discussions about successful career women who submit only to their romantic partner and only sexually.

I was just thrilled to know that there were men who wanted to dominate me! I had thought, and apparently this is quite a common misconception among submissive women, that everybody *really* wants to be submissive. I assumed I would have to “take turns”, if I were lucky enough to find a partner who was open-minded and willing to experiment in the bedroom. You cannot imagine the thrill I felt when I realized that I could be in a relationship where I got to be the lucky one (ie the submissive) every time!

Anyway. Neither Richard nor I were interested in a Master/slave relationship, each of us for different reasons. In his experience, M/s relationships tended to devolve into the M being a “service top” to the s. In other words, the alleged Master was actually serving the sexual fantasies of the alleged slave. An example of this would be a slave being sassy or disobedient, to manipulate Master into “punishing” her/him in some delicious way. A little of that, as light-hearted roleplay, might be fun. But it’s kind of the antithesis of slavery for the slave to control the relationship dynamic so blatantly, yes?

To me, as I said before, it seemed unrealistic for me to be anything more than a bedroom submissive. Furthermore, I had a lot of trouble with the word “slave”. Slavery really happened, and continues to happen in some parts of the world. It’s not sexy for the real slave. I would NOT want to be a real slave.

In contrast, how I feel about Richard is very real. I love him, I adore him, I worship him, and I feel extremely submissive to him. I want him and only him to control me. I want him and only him to dominate me. I’ve never felt this way about someone before. I don’t want to put a fake label on these very real feelings.

But what kind of name can I put to our relationship? What am I? I am now comfortable saying Richard owns me. But am I a slave?

The word is becoming more and more comfortable to me, as my submission becomes deeper and deeper and as his control over me grows. I wonder… where we’ll end up, who I will be, as the journey continues.

Finding borders in a D/s relationship

The weekend went very well indeed. I’m starting to take more control away from Amy now, letting our 24.7 D/s find its own borders (if there are any) as we begin to grow as a couple and into our public life.

I find myself handling her body quite casually all the time now. It’s a rare moment when we are together and she is out of reach, and I’ve lately taken to leading her around by grabbing the front of her jeans, hooking a finger in, and pulling her to get her moving.

We’ve had a few minor moment of irritation with each other, but we seem to sort them out quickly, and they always seem to stem from our different ways of communicating. We are learning to understand what each other means when we talk about stuff, and it’s usually when we make inferences about what the other meant that we run into conflict. We are remarkably similar in that we both are direct and straightforward in our speech, and neither of us are used to that in a partner, so occasionally try to guess real meanings behind things, when the real meanings are right up front.

But we are learning.

Great weekend sexually. Dancing Saturday night; and that seemed to set the tone for a long, lingering Sunday morning in bed.

Sometime in the erotic haze of that morning we took this picture. Some time in between fucking, but I really don’t know between which occasions. Again, a long, lingering erotic morning.

God, those nipples.

A quick outdoor fuck

Without going into too much detail, Amy and I spent the weekend involved with some of her people at work, in a situation that gave us virtually no privacy.

A road trip, as such.

A trip to a remote area, with a pool, so it’s not like we were savagely roughing it, but a few inconveniences nonetheless.

Like not sleeping in privacy.


The first night, we achieved a brief, quiet, surreptitious penetration, but not the actual satisfaction of genuine fucking, although I played with Amy’s nipples until she had a little orgasm from that.

The following night, we took a little detour between locations.

We drove down past a “Closed – No Through Traffic” sign into a little cul-de-sac, in an abandoned construction area for a real estate development that didn’t pan out. We stopped and turned out the lights as twilight gathered, and broke out a bottle of red wine. No glasses, so we just drank it straight out of the bottle, like a couple of teenagers on Saturday Night in their parent’s car. From our vantage point, we could see in all directions. No one could sneak up on us, but then we weren’t exactly hidden from anybody with curiosity, and an inkling to investigate.

Amy figured she’d give me a quick bit of oral, to catch me up on the mini orgasm she’d enjoyed the night before, and we started like that, but before too long I had her jeans off, and her sitting on my lap in the front seat with her lace boy cut panties pulled to one side, fucking as she alternately whimpered and looked out the windows, afraid that someone would see her.

Soon it grew dark enough to shield us from onlookers, and I opened the door and stripped Amy down to nothing but her panties, and fucked her standing as she bent over, her face in the seat of the vehicle, making her wonderful sounds, and her hand s clutching at anything in reach.

You should have seen her ass in the moonlight, with those lace panties pushed to one side as I fucked her – phenomenal!


This position allowed for much more satisfactory usage of her body, and partway through I became distracted by a bright light over my head. I looked up in the sky, and this intense light, as bright as the moon but only one tenth the size or so, was very slowly shifting to the right in the sky above me, like a massive disk that was slowly expanding, and slipping to one side. It didn’t belong there, and it took me a moment to realize that this was a meteor coming almost directly towards us. I grabbed Amy, by the shoulder or hair, I forget which, and tried to pull her up so she could see it, but she mistook my sudden exclamations of excitement as evidence that we had been discovered, and instead buried herself as much as she could out of sight.

The fireball swelled, then burst into a shower of tiny sparks, and then went out. I calmed Amy, and made further use of her, until we decided we had stolen all the time alone together we dared, and drove back to rejoin the others.

I made Amy drive part of the way wearing just the lace panties, just for the erotic novelty of it.

Not sure she enjoyed it as much as I did, however.

How I asked for a punishment

This has been a very challenging week. We had our first real disagreement on Thursday, then went away on a business trip from Friday through Monday. We had another minor disagreement over the weekend, brought on I think by not having any alone time at all. I guess we are well past vanilla, given that even 3 days of pure vanilla interactions made us very edgy and irritable.

I say pure vanilla, but we still managed to have crazy sex a couple of times a day; once at sunset, both of us standing outside the van with my face pushed into the passenger seat. Richard saw a huge shooting star but couldn’t get me up from the seat fast enough to see it. 😦 Another time on a couch and WE ALMOST GOT WALKED IN ON OMFG. Richard was amused, I was horrified.

But I digress. I have been very bad. Seriously. I did not tell Richard about something important that happened to me, because it had to do with a past relationship and it was embarrassing. It has been torturing me that I hadn’t told him about it, and I finally did today (and do NOT email and ask what it was, cuz I will NOT tell you. honest. too embarrassing.)

He was wonderful. I was scared that he was going to break up with me and I was crying like crazy and he was so wonderful. He told me that he loved me and he knew who I was and that no matter what, he still owned me and that wasn’t going to change.

We talked about it for a while, and then I ASKED FOR A PUNISHMENT.

I can’t believe I did that. First of all, I am so NOT a masochist. Also, I try hard to behave well AND I have a proud streak a mile wide. So asking for a punishment – I really never thought that would happen. But I so want to be over feeling guilty about this, that I asked for a punishment.

What a dumb idea. Asking a sadist for a punishment. What on earth was I thinking?

Here’s the punishment. Remember I’m still a bit anxious about anal intercourse? And we’ve only done it four times?

My punishment is: I don’t get to cum again until he has cum in my ass.

Which he has never done.

Which he has seldom ever done in his life.

Which means that I will be begging him to fuck me in the ass.

Which I could never in my wildest imaginings have imagined myself doing.


In fact, I got a spanking today because he was fucking me (NOT in my ass, just to torment me) and I said “you’re not going to cum in my pussy, are you?”, hoping that he would flip me over and cum in my ass. This was seen as disrespectful, and I can see how it was seen that way.

Harumph, nonetheless. Looks like another challenging week is ahead of me.