Consent and kink

I have read and seen a lot in the last year. I’ve talked before about how I didn’t even realize I was sexually submissive until a year ago, and didn’t know that my fantasies could be more than fantasies, that some people lived their lives this way. This has taken a lot of adjusting, in thinking and behavior, and I still regularly feel the challenge of integrating this aspect of myself into my life. It has also been incredibly freeing. I’m stunned by the energy and creativity that has been released by opening my whole mind to who I really am. I am so, so happy.

I am, as I would guess many previously vanilla people are, more accepting of other people’s kinks than I was of my own. I have always felt that what happens between consenting adults in privacy is their concern and no one else’s. Is anyone getting hurt? If all involved are happy, then all is good. (OK, maybe somebody got hurt, but some people LIKE to get hurt. ; ))

I used to snicker a bit when I read about, for example, spanking or role play. Now I think it’s hot.

I used to feel quizzical about e.g. submissive men. Now I feel… a kinship I guess. And I think it must be harder in our society to be them than to be me (and it’s harder on all of us kinksters than it is to be gay, in general), so I have some sympathy too.

There are some things that personally squick me – the example that always comes to mind is scat play, and diaper play/infantilism/incest play is only a little easier for me to read about.

Last weekend I saw my first plushies/furries. I was happy that Richard was there to explain about them. He is so open and non-judgmental. It’s easy to laugh about their kink, but why is theirs any odder than wanting to spank or be spanked?

To repeat: I have always felt that what happens between consenting adults in privacy is their concern and no one else’s. YKINMKBYKIOK: Your kink is not my kink, but your kink is okay, as some people put it.

So. I was reading a blog today (I’m not going to link to it, because I think she’s suffering from the negative attention already and I hate to see that). In it, a sub described her Master requiring her to put syrup on her pussy, to get the family dog to lick her. She explained that he had made her do this once before, and it had upset her so much that she cried for hours and couldn’t eat for days. That seems all kinds of wrong to me – why would a Master want to hurt his property that badly? why would you want a Master that hurt you that badly? – BUT that part of it (His and her choices) falls under the YKINMKBYKIOK rule to me.

The part that was really disturbing for me was the lack of consent from the dog. Here’s why: one of the cornerstones of responsible BDSM is consent. Otherwise you’re moving into abuse and criminal behavior, yes?

This is why the idea of “consensual non-consent” has been so carefully spelled out by the BDSM community. Basically, you can consent to give away your right to consent, either short-term for a play session or long-term as in the case of a slave. Slaves of course always have the right to take away their consent and be released from their slavery.

In my case, I have agreed that Richard has complete control over me; a “no” from me would be a “no” to the relationship. But if Richard told me to jump off a building, or to hurt my children, or to have sex with an animal, I would say “no”, recognizing the enormity of the “no” that I said.

Our morality and our laws recognize that some individuals and some creatures are not capable of consent. Animals fall into this category, children too, and brain damaged and severely mentally disabled people do too.

You may have heard of people who sexually molest infants. (Richard made me take out the details here.) Even if the child never remembers the event, most of us are horrified that someone would do this. Why? I would argue that it is because infants do not have the ability to choose to consent or not, and we therefore believe that they are off-limits for sexual play.

In a similar vein, there are occasional newspaper reports of caretakers of brain damaged or mentally disabled patients who have been caught having sexual relations with their charges. Even if the patients will never remember the event, most of us would say this is reprehensible behavior. I think it’s because we see a responsibility to those who are not able to choose to consent.

Animals are a greyer area for most people, although not for all. After all, we kill some of them for food. With dogs specifically, many people cut off their tails or parts of their ears. Other people kick or hit their dogs. Others leave them chained outside for days, even though dogs are extremely social creatures and crave interaction. Is having a dog lick your pussy really such a terrrible thing?

Oral sex is sex, in spite of what Bill Clinton might say. Having a dog lick your pussy is having sex with a dog. I actually called a (kinky) friend who is an animal control officer and asked her if this is illegal.

“Yeah it’s illegal. It’s called b*stiality.”

“So you would go get the dog?”

“Oh no. The police deal with this one. They go get the owners.”

The legality or illegality of the act is not my main concern, although I’m concerned that the blogger could run into trouble if anyone recognizes her online. My friend told me that they’ve prosecuted several cases like this over the last few years.

My main concern, the thing that upset me, is that the dog, just like an infant or a brain-damaged person, is not capable of saying yes or no. We are the caretakers of our pets, as we are of our children. It seems like a dereliction of our responsibility to involve our charges in any kind of sexual play, because they rely on us to make choices for them and to protect them.

I feel a lot better after writing about this. I actually cried when I talked to Richard about it. It seems like, when I respond very emotionally to something (versus just an “ewwww I would NEVER do that!”) it is worth exploring and discussing. In this case, it has really helped bring home to me how strongly I feel about NOT involving individuals (people or animals) in your kink that have not consented or can not consent. I’m really interested to hear what other people think about this.

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Open your legs

This morning I had to wake up early to get some reading done before a meeting. Reading I should have done the night before, but I was having too much fun snuggling and flirting with Richard.

We have been having so much fun together with the kids gone. A couple of days ago when we were fucking, Richard called me a cunt and I snarled at him – when am I gonna learn just to ignore him? Afterwards when we were cuddling, he started teasing me about being his cunt and I denied it (of course). Somehow this devolved into him holding me down and saying “Cuntcuntcuntcuntcuntcuntcunt”. And I, being the mature person in the relationship, after a few minutes of saying “No I’m not! Shut up!” switched to “I know you are, but what am I? I know you are, but what am I?”

I am embarassed to admit that this went on for several minutes. We’d slow down and start giggling and a few seconds later he’d start up again “Cuntcuntcuntcunt” and I Could.Not.Let.It.Go. “I know you are, but what am I?” Over and over and over.

The next day, during post-orgasmic snuggling, he began walking his fingers along my ass, then up to my breasts, singing “The inchy pinchy lobster/climbed up Amy’s butt/up to her nipples/to see if she’s a slut”. I HATE being pinched, so at this point I began struggling madly to get away and it turned into a major wrestling match.

I managed a sweet little maneuver to get off the bed and went scampering downstairs, naked as a jaybird. I ran through the kitchen and realized that I either had to run into the back yard (hi neighbors!) or into the garage. I dashed into the garage and then hung onto the doorknob for dear life, hoping I could at least slow him down, my heart pounding.

I heard Richard, who had taken the time to put on a pair of shorts, walk quietly into the kitchen. Then I heard the door to the back yard open. I waited a few seconds, then quietly opened the door to the garage, planning to lock Richard outside. I was chortling, I tell you. As I opened the garage door, though, I saw that the door to the back yard was ALREADY locked. Confused, I looked toward the kitchen and saw Richard heading toward me, grinning, with a riding crop in his hand. (Not the one from the feed store).

“I knew you wouldn’t go outside naked, silly girl.”

So I got hauled back to the bedroom and suffered the indignity of a whipping (cropping?), made better by more cuddling and kissing and teasing afterwards.

 

Last night, Richard went online to see if his kids were on. I went into the other room and logged on the desktop computer. I quietly took off my shirt and turned on the webcam. Then I buzzed Richard. Hehehe. He was so surprised. It brought back a lot of nice memories of our early relationship (we met online, and started IMing and webcamming after a month or so, but I was VERY shy back then – the “no shirt” aspect was a new one lol).

After a few minutes IMing back and forth, he typed “now I’m going to surprise YOU” and suddenly he was behind me, cupping my breasts with his hands, nuzzling and kissing my neck. Mmmmmm. We agreed that real time is sooooo much nicer. But I am so thankful for the internet, because we never would have met without it.

So. This morning. The alarm rang and I reached to turn it off.

Richard said “Roll over next to me”.

I did, and he said “Open your legs.”

Which I did. He slipped his hand over my pussy and closed my legs again, then draped his other arm over me.

“Um Richard, I have to get up now. I have that reading to do.”

“Shhhh.”

So I laid silently for a minute, feeling the warmth from his hand, trying not to get too aroused, trying not to wiggle.

“OK. You can get up now.”

I did my reading, while he slowly woke up next to me. I finished more quickly than expected (maybe not my most *careful* reading ever) and rolled against him.

We began teasing each other with our hands and then our mouths. I was the first to crack.

“Richard, please fuck me.”

“We can’t. You’ve got to get to the office.”

“Pleeeease. Just put it in. Just for a sec. C’mon.”

“I’m not just putting it in. Nope.”

“OK. Two strokes then. OK? C’mon. Please Daddy.” (batting my eyelashes imploringly)

“Just two strokes huh? OK, climb on top, little girl.”

Sweet jesus. He played with my breasts as he fucked me from below.

“I think that’s two. We better stop.” (smartass me)

“Shut up and fuck. You know how to fuck don’t you? Just fuck.”

So I did what I was told.

After a few minutes, he popped me off of him and flipped me onto my belly. I thought he was going to fuck me from behind, but first he smacked me HARD several times on each ass cheek. THEN he hauled my ass in the air and fucked me. Every few thrusts he would smack me again. My ass was stinging and it felt soooo good.

Then he flipped me onto my back and really started fucking me in earnest. We were both wildly turned on at this point, and I know I couldn’t have put together a complete sentence if I’d wanted to. I was moaning and bucking and biting and hitting and finally Richard had enough of it and grabbed a pillow and put it over my face (note for the safety police: leaving my mouth free : )).

Wow. That really quieted me down. He was fucking me even harder and I could feel every millimeter of him, every move he made and I just stayed as still as I could and felt it all.

After a while he pulled the pillow off my face and stared down at me as he kept fucking me.

“You need to get used to being used like this, little girl.”

“I am going to use you more and more. Like this, and in lots of other ways too.”

I could feel myself orgasming as he spoke and he thrust into me hard twice more and stopped. He held me close and told me he loved me and then we hopped out of bed and I barely made it to my meeting in time. And I couldn’t stop thinking about him the entire time. It was the longest meeting of my life.

Review of our first night in a BDSM club

Amy has given a good description of our first night at a club. One thing that she didn’t seem to realize was just exactly why some many Doms were talking to us. She assumed that we were all talking “Domly” stuff that she found uninteresting. I pointed out to her that they were talking to me because they wanted to fuck her.

The thought horrified her, and she claims not to believe it, but I’ve been around enough to know better. If you want to play with someone’s slave, you have to go through her owner, not through her. So, Amy makes me more popular than I usually am. I also pointed out to her that I have been offered the use of someone’s slave before at a dungeon, and she is dealing with the thought/fear that I could do the same.

Anyway, the next night found us at a different club, a very elegant club with theme rooms, a dance floor, a bar, etc., and with house submissives that tend to your needs, to a certain degree, anyway (Some needs, you just gotta bring your own slave).
Amy adjusting

We saw a school room, a dungeon, a sissy maids room – all sorts of great facilities. But the best part was watching the play.

Early on, we watched a lesbian couple doing some flogging, and just generally enjoyed the ambiance.

Then, a couple of plushies and a few cross dressers showed up, as well as some intriguing Dominatrices and others. Some nice corsets, a tall brunette schoolgirl, and a stunning pigtailed anime styled blond asian woman. A nice mix of people; my kind of people, so I felt really at home.

Amy and I wandered off through the many secluded rooms and hallways, with me stopping from time to time to ease a breast out of her corset, and play with her nipples as she took a sharp intake of breath. Once I lifted her skirt and played with her ass, which made her visibly nervous, and in another room she laid back on an examining table while I held a hand over her eyes and played with a few vulnerable parts of her body, as passers-by peeked in for a casual glance at what was going on.

I think the sexiest part of the night, other than Amy and I playing with each other, was watching some extended play a man did with a woman tied almost nude to a chair largely woven from metal braid. He did far more than just flog her, whipping her pierced breasts repeatedly, invading her mouth with his fingers at will, and putting a satisfying beating on her in general, from her thighs to her belly. Quite sexy, and with the assistance of his submissive dressed as a plushie – some kind of bear I think – a very visually appealing overall, with a nice level of flair.

In the same room, at the same time, a complete novice was being shown how to use a flogger by a friendly and experienced Dominatrix. She showed a lot of patience and gave some really good tips to a man who seemed to have never held a flogger before.

We left the club some time after midnight, and in the parking lot, I helped Amy ease out of her corset for the ride back home. She’s beginning to get used to dressing and undressing in intriguing places, which bodes well for the future!

The first time I went to a BDSM club

On Friday night, Richard & I went to a private BDSM club. I was nervous, but SO excited. I really had no idea what to expect. It was a male Dom/ fem sub night, and Richard said that in his experience the women would be nude or wearing very little. Since this was my first time to a club, he didn’t want me to feel anxious or shy, so he let me wear a (tight) black t-shirt and mini-skirt, with Converse sneakers. For a while.

It was in a kinda creepy, warehouse-y part of town (not our town). Richard says that’s because you need a lot of space for a dungeon, so you need to rent where it’s cheap. I think we were probably the only patrons with a mini-van.

When we entered, we had to fill out a form and show our IDs, which kinda freaked me out. But everyone was really nice, and a regular there showed us around.

Actually, the first thing he showed us was his “bitch” as he called her. She was about six foot tall – he was maybe 5’8″ and twice her age. Big, blond girl. Corn fed. Buck naked. Well, not quite naked; she had on a leather harness and nipple rings and heels.

He showed us around the place – they have over 6000 square feet in about 15 or 20 rooms. And all this equipment that someone(s) had lovingly made – spanking benches and flogging stations and THREE St. Andrew’s crosses.

There was a group of people hanging out around an outdoor fire. They seemed to be normal, and they had a normal amount of clothing on, albeit all black.

Then a young-ish guy walked in, holding the end of a leash. On the other end of the leash was a girl wearing a leather skirt and nothing else. He walked her into the main room and tied her to an overhead bar.

Meanwhile, we were the object of much interest and good wishes. Several doms descended on us and wanted to know how we’d discovered BDSM and each other, and offer advice on meeting more like-minded people, and tell us what equipment was the most fun, etc. I kept shrinking further and further behind Richard, who was very friendly and pleasant to everybody.

Richard finally had pity on me and took me for a walk around the dungeon, away from our well-wishers. We walked into the main room, and there were TWO women tied up at stations, with their Doms smacking them with various implements.

Richard sat us down next to one of the stations – too close it turned out, because the woman made a LOT of noise and it started freaking me out. I THINK they were happy sounds, but I couldn’t be sure. She wasn’t too loud when her Dom was flogging her but then he began finger-fucking her and she got really loud. I whispered to Richard and asked if he was hurting her but he said she was probably an exhibitionist and making a lot of noise was part of her kink. We moved to the other side of the room.

This gave us a better view of the youngish couple I mentioned above. He was flogging her and then he would stop and rub her back and kiss her neck and see how she was doing. I could see him caressing her and she would start to relax and then he would twist her nipple hard and she would shriek and he would go back to flogging her. Later in the night he untied her and had her sit down. He gave her water and dried her off and cuddled her. Then he put a mask on her and took her over to a corner and made her give him a blowjob. Wow.

After a while, when we’d wandered around a bit and seen a few things, I felt comfortable enough to change. Richard put on my collar and corset and I slipped into a pair of heels. Richard had me sit at his feet while we watched some scenes. He asked me what I liked best and I said I liked the spanking bench.

He took me to one of the rooms with a spanking bench. It was the most private room there, but we had to walk through a room with several people in it, standing around talking.

He had me climb onto the bench. I was nervous, but he was very calm and gentle and just kept talking to me. He showed me how my legs and arms are buckled in. He rubbed my back and talked to me gently and I started to feel comfortable.

I thought he would have me get up then. But instead, he slapped me on the ass. I squeaked. Quietly, because there was a bunch of people just one room over. He slapped me again and I squeaked again. Then he reached between my legs and rubbed me, over my panties, gently. Then he spanked me again, harder.

I realized that there was no way that the people in the other room couldn’t hear the spanking. I felt embarrassed, but I didn’t say anything. I’m not sure why; I think it was because I was feeling so submissive and so turned on.

He spanked me for a few minutes, alternating with rubbing me and teasing me. I could tell my panties were getting wet from my excitement. I was embarrassed, but even more turned on.

After a few minutes, he unbuckled me and pulled me up. As I stood up, I realized people were coming around the corner to see what we were doing. Ack! Richard took me into his arms and kissed me deeply, positioning my face away from the door. I heard the group come in, look around and leave – probalby disappointed to have missed the spanking. Richard says a lot of the people at BDSM clubs are voyeurs and come to watch, not play.

He took me by the wrist and led me back to the main room, where a man was giving a woman a major flogging on the central stage. She looked gorgeous, kneeling on a bench and leaning against a higher one. There is something about that position – legs spread, ass in the air – that is incredibly sexy.

Her Dom was giving her a flogging that I am still stunned by. She must have entered sub-space, because she barely made a sound and her body was moving in rhythm to the background music. He was talking to her, telling her how to breathe, re-positioning her. He would stop and dry her off and stroke her and then pick up the flogger again.

I could tell from how he talked to her that he knew her well, knew what she could take and what she wanted. It seemed to me that he loved her.

Humans are amazing. To want to cause that kind of pain, to want to receive that kind of pain…amazing. How wonderful that they found each other.

As we watched them, with me at Richard’s feet, he began to brush my breasts with his hands, then slip his fingers inside my bra and play with my nipples. People walked by, but he didn’t stop. Later, the man who initially showed us around came up with his sub. Richard continued to play with my breasts as they spoke. It’s funny, I felt a little shy but not as much as I expected. I felt very owned, and safe in that, and very submissive and passive. It was very erotic.

I am still processing everything we saw. Last night we went to another, quite different BDSM club. I’ll write about that tomorrow.

I think this is going to have a big impact on Richard’s and my relationship. I am feeling extremely submissive and focused on him. I can tell that it has made him want to do more, to take more control, to try some new things (eg we haven’t really “scened” per se). It will be interesting to see where it takes us.

Photographers and their women

I’m lying in bed next to Richard right now. We both have laptops and when I look across at his, there are photos on it, of beautiful women. Gorgeous photos. Photos Richard took.

 

He took them several years ago, and they were lost during a past break-up, and he has re-discovered them.

I am so, so thrilled that he has found them. He is a great photographer, and this was clearly a huge loss to him.

I am also a little intimidated by them, or threatened, I don’t know. The first one he found, wow that was hard to see, because his hand was in it, touching her belly. Not in a sexual way (heck, she was fully clothed even), more in the way you touch something you own.

 

I am the first woman that Richard has owned. He is my first (and last of course) owner. He’s the first man I’ve called Daddy (well, except I guess my father lol) and I’m the first woman he’s called “little girl”. Every day with Richard is a first for me. So that means a) I don’t have anything to feel threatened about in re these old photos, and b) it’s kinda understandable that I do find them a little threatening.

Anyway.

Yesterday morning, after an amaaaaazing early morning session (are you noticing a trend? early morning? this morning too!), I got a bit insecure. I’m still coming to terms with my submissiveness. Or not, depending on the day.

Ever since I started calling Richard Daddy, I’ve been feeling more and more submissive. Mostly I love it, but sometimes I start to fret about it. Yesterday, I wanted to know if it was “real” or…or what? I wasn’t sure. After we talked for a while, I realized that there were two different things that were worrying me.

The first was, I needed to know whether Richard likes being called Daddy as much as I like calling him Daddy. I really really really didn’t want this to be something he was doing to humor me or make me happy. I’ve said before that one of the most wonderful things about a D/s relationship to me is that I don’t have to worry, as I usually would, whether or not Richard is doing what he wants and enjoying himself. This kind of worrying really interfered with me enjoying myself in past vanilla relationships.

He assured me that he loves it as much as I do. We’ve both posted about this before, so I won’t spend more time on it here. But I’m probably going to need reassurance on this semi-regularly.

The second thing that was worrying me was, are we just playing a silly mind-game? Just pretending that he owns me and I submit to him, to make ourselves hot? I’m not sure how to say this in a way that makes sense, but I guess part of me was wondering if we were going to wake up one day and say “What the heck were we doing? Let’s get real now.” Or worse, that just one of us would say that and the other would be up a creek…

Richard says that he’s known who he is for a really long time. I haven’t; I’ve had a lifetime of thinking that I was a plain, boring, vanilla woman. Richard sees me as an exciting, intensely sexual, submissive wanton. I’m glad he sees me that way, but I’m still a ways from seeing myself that way. He says I’m still adjusting to my new understanding of myself. I guess I am. Bottom line, though, is that he’s not going to change who he is and NO WAY am I going back to vanility (rhymes with banality) (vanilla-land? vanilla-hood?)

So that was my crisis of confidence. I don’t feel like I’ve explained it very well. Maybe I’ll do a better job during my next crisis, since I KNOW there will be one.

Oh! And just so you don’t think I’m done being a tease…tonight! we’re going! to a BDSM club! Woooooohooooo!

Second thoughts about submission

As I said in my last post, my fears about Richard’s increasing aggressiveness were justified. Before we went to bed, he put me into leg chains for the night, “so I wouldn’t get away”. He woke me in the middle of the night as he unclipped one of my leg cuffs, then pushed my legs apart and entered me. I could tell from how wet I was that he had been playing with me while I slept.

I moaned, and he slapped a hand over my mouth.

“Shut up. Just fuck.”

I did what I was told. I could tell he was feeling very aggressive. Not good to argue with him at such times.

He fucked me for a while, moving his hands from my mouth, to my throat, to my breasts, and back again. Then he pulled out and shoved his cock in my mouth. His very hard, very large cock. I choked and he just pushed in deeper. Bastard.

He face-fucked me while I drooled and gasped and choked, and then he flipped me onto my belly, grabbed my hips and hauled my ass into the air. He kicked my legs apart and began to slam-fuck me. I could hear the leg chains, still attached to my right leg, rattle as he fucked me.

He grabbed my hair and wrapped it around his wrist and suddenly stopped, deep inside me.

“Where’s your collar?” he growled.

“Um. I don’t know. In the drawer?”

“Get it.” He pushed off me.

I jumped out of bed and starting digging through the dresser drawer in which my collar usually resides.

“It’s not here.”

“Well, where the fuck is it?”

“I don’t know. I’ll look in the bedside table.”

It wasn’t there. I could almost hear his annoyance.

“I just remembered! It’s in the bathroom.” I ran and got it.

He put it on, roughly yanking it closed. “What kind of slave doesn’t know where her collar is?”

“I’m sorry, sir.” (meekly)

Then he fucked me some more, and he was NOT gentle. When he was done, he put the second leg cuff on himself and said “Now you won’t be going anywhere.”

But he didn’t cum, so I knew I was in for it. I behaved like a saint all day yesterday, “Yes sir” and “No sir” about everything. When he said “Jump” I said “How high?” (Not really, my father used to say that lol.) We did a photoshoot, OUTSIDE with me NAKED, and I DID NOT COMPLAIN ONCE. I definitely earned the title “Good Girl” yesterday.

Jeez, I’ve done it again. I haven’t gotten to the part in the title, but I really have to do some work now. More later. Promise.

Buying whips to punish the wife

We finally got the kids sent off Monday night. That evening we had a quiet dinner and stared shell-shocked at the upside-down house.

Yesterday morning we woke up early and snuggled for a bit, then I got up and made coffee and a nice breakfast. We both got lots of work done and put the house in order.

In the afternoon, we went to a feed store. I wanted to bring home baby chicks, but had to settle for a stock tank that we are going to modify into a hot tub (there are websites that show you how to do this!) Richard headed off into the horse section and suddenly I hear him from across the store: “Pony girl!”

bdsmcouple-on-ground

Oh.My.God.

I looked across and he was grinning from ear to ear, waving a pair of hobbles in the air.

“Look at these!”

I scampered over to him, so he’d stop talking so loudly, even though I was waiting for a store clerk to bring me some eye drops for our dog.

“Richard. Shhh. People can hear you.”

“Have you seen the WHIPS? They’re so CHEAP!”

He headed over to a bucket full of whips and riding crops, touching every kind of horse paraphernalia you can imagine along the way, exclaiming as he went. I followed, whispering quietly that people could HEAR him, we were going to get KICKED OUT before we got our stock tank if he didn’t BE QUIET.

He pulled out what looked like a buggy whip – about four foot of rod and two foot of whip – and cracked it over his head: “This is only TEN BUCKS! I could really use this on you!”

At this point the store clerk (a really cute, hunky young guy, incidentally) found me and handed me the eye drops, while eyeing Richard cautiously. I thanked him, but he didn’t go away for the rest of our visit, following me from the horse supplies, where Richard continued to rifle through the crops and whips, to the pet supplies, to the baby chicks. I bet he was looking for bruises. I told Richard that he probably slipped a note into my bag offering assistance. Richard said no, he probably slipped a note into HIS pocket offering to help whip me. Hmph.

I figured I was in for trouble when we got home, but the ride seemed to settle him down. We had a nice, quiet, vanilla evening. I was finishing up a project on-line and Richard was reading on the couch next to me. I was uploading a series of graphics and started complaining about how long it was taking. This perked Richard up.

“Here. I’ll spank you while it uploads. Then you won’t be bored.”

“Um, gosh, thanks. I think I’ll be fine.”

“Nope. C’mere.”

So I laid across his lap and he pulled down my panties and spanked me, keeping an eye on the computer. When the upload completed, he pulled up my panties and let me sit up. It was a weird transition, with my bottom still stinging, trying to get back to my logical thinky-brain. I started to upload another graphic, making sure not to complain this time. To no avail.

“C’mon. Back up.”

“Richardddd…”

“Now.”

Damn, this one was a really large file. He spanked me for a long time, and he was spanking harder. I couldn’t help squeaking a few times when he really connected.

“Your ass is getting really red. I like this. You’re not so bored now, are you?”

One final graphic, and this one was shorter. By the end of this one, my ass was really stinging and hot. Plus I was feeling very submissive and very turned on.

We went up to the bedroom and I went into the closet and got the riding crop and brought it to Richard. I still can’t believe I did this! Am I getting braver or stupider?? But the look on his face was worth it – it made him so happy.

He caressed it and said “This is much nicer than the ones at the store.”

“I know. It was more expensive too, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. C’mere.”

So I got swatted with the crop a few times, which was stingy but not much stingier than a spanking (shh, don’t tell Richard) and then I got very nicely fucked. But he didn’t cum, which concerned me a little, because when Richard doesn’t cum he starts feeling aggressive.

I’ve noticed this – if we fuck and he doesn’t cum, he’s very focused on me and a bit rough when he handles me, and if we fuck and he doesn’t cum AGAIN, then he’s even more focused and more aggressive. And so on. And with the kids now gone, there was no need for him to be quiet or worry about keeping me quiet.

And my fears were justified. I have to do some work now, so I’ll write about what happened in the middle of the night on my next post. Sorry to be a tease…

I get to be his little girl

Wow. I am so excited. For the next two weeks, starting manana, all I have to do is be Richard’s good girl.

Well, technically, I have several big projects to complete, but I can do these almost completely at home. As Richard said, “No problem. You can type in chains.”

Wheeeeeeeeeeee.

The kids are going away with their father for two weeks.

We’ve had them for the last week. We adore them. But. It’s been a solid week of Quiet Sex. You know. No spanking. No squealing. No begging or moaning, or at least no LOUD begging or moaning.

And no wearing my collar. Or chains. Or whatever slutty little outfit Richard feels like seeing me walk around the house in.

And the week before, we were on the road, in waaaaaaaay too nice of a hotel and waaaaaaaaay too busy to get much fun in. (Although Richard managed to snap a pic of me working naked, unbeknownst to me (see last post).)

So I am really excited and really trepidatious, because Richard says he thinks he’s been too lenient with me lately, and that’s going to change this week. I’ll keep you posted!

Licking her

Remember the scene in Batman Returns, when Catwoman has Batman pinned down and…licks him? We were shopping yesterday evening and Richard mentioned how sexy that scene was. I don’t usually remember anything about movies, but I remember THAT. Scorching. (In fact, I went to Wikipedia to make sure I had the right movie, and I didn’t remember anything else about it. Penguin wants to rehabilitate his image?? He attacks the city with robo-penguins??)

I asked him why that would be sexy to us, given that I’m a submissive woman and he’s a dominant man. He said “She fought back. She didn’t win, but she was a worthy opponent.”

Mostly I do what I’m told.

“Spread your legs.”

“Wider.”

“Masturbate. Now.”

“Show me.”

But yesterday morning was different.

My nipples were a bit tender, from a combination of the time in my cycle, and wearing a teensy little bikini the day before that rubbed them a bit, and rough handling from Richard. I was still groggy, just waking up, when Richard began teasing them. It felt nice at first, because he was barely brushing against them, but then his touch got firmer and they started to hurt.

If I had been wide awake, I would probably have said “That kind of hurts.” Usually he would stop if I said that, or change pressure. Instead, I whimpered and tried to pull away.

Bad idea. Richard growled low in his throat and pulled me closer. I looked up at him, startled, and saw The Look.

The Look. That’s when Richard enters Predator mode, or at least that’s how I think of it. I seem to set it off when I act like prey – try to escape, or whimper, or squeal. If I run, he immediately makes chase. It’s primal. It’s scary.

He grabbed my wrists and pinned them over my head with one hand. With the other, he began to play with my breasts harder.

Surprisingly, they no longer hurt so badly, maybe because he was handling my whole breast rather than just the nipples. Plus he was dead sexy, so I was getting really turned on, really fast. My breasts can take much rougher handling when I’m aroused.

He kicked my legs apart and shoved into me. It took three or four tries, because I couldn’t guide him in with my arms above my head. It’s such a contrast, the hard ramming against me and then, suddenly, sliding so easily into my wetness.

He let go of my arms so that he could grab me by the ass and re-position me. He slammed into me a few more times. Then. He paused for a second, reached down and grabbed my nipple. Hard.

I lost it. I started fighting back. Richard says I was saying things that didn’t make sense. I bit him on the face. I hit him on the back and shoulders. I tried to buck him off. I growled. Through it all, Richard held on to my nipple and slam-fucked me down into the mattress.

When he released the pressure on my nipple I would stop fighting and fuck him back. Then he would grab a nipple again and I would shriek and buck and bite – his neck, his shoulders, his face. But I couldn’t have told you at the time that that was what was happening. I was a complete animal.

Once when I bit him particularly hard, Richard slapped me in the face, then grabbed me by the hair to hold my face away from him. Then he fucked me some more.

After what felt like hours of this – fucking, fighting, fucking – Richard pulled off me. We were both exhausted. He kissed me, he told me he loved his wild girl, then he told me to get up and go to the bathroom.

I gave him my own Look. The Look said something like “Make me” or “Whatever.” Not a look that this good girl is likely to give, but I HATE when he tells me to go to the bathroom.

I started to get up, but he grabbed me and pulled me back down.

“Oh no. I don’t think so. You’re not getting up now.”

“You’re going to masturbate for me.”

“Please. I’m tired. I don’t want to.” (sounding progressively whinier)

“Masturbate. Now.”

I began to masturbate, but my heart wasn’t in it. Or my cunt. Or my clit.

I even tried to talk him out of making me as I did.

“I’m so tired. Why do I have to? Can I stop now?”

He ignored me, and began to play with my breasts again, but more gently.

“Pleeeeeease.”

“That is the most pathetic attempt at masturbating I have ever seen. Do I need to hurt you to get you to masturbate for me?”

I got a little more focused.

He played with my breasts and I got closer to cumming. He can tell when I’m close; I start holding my breath, my belly gets tight and quivers, I get really quiet.

But I was tired, so I wasn’t cumming.

“I’ve been waiting long enough. Im going to play rougher with you now.”

He grabbed both nipples and began twisting and pulling. It pushed me over and I was cumming, cumming so hard I couldn’t breathe or see or think.

He slammed back into me and it felt so sweet, so good, every thrust I pushed up against him and again and again and he came and filled me and collapsed on me and I held him against me.

And maybe I licked him, and maybe I didn’t. But I reckon I’m a worthy opponent.

Who’s your daddy?

Hey little girl is your daddy home
Did he go away and leave you all alone?
…I got a bad desire
…I’m on fire
 – Bruce Springsteen

I’ve always loved the menace of those lines. And I love the way it showcases the Daddy/little girl dynamic that Amy has posted about.

She and I have been finding our own way through an unusual relationship, one that isn’t part of the mainstream, and yet in so many ways sits squarely astride classic Middle America values. There are days when I’m Ricky Fucking Ricardo bending Lucy over his knee for a good old fashioned spanking.

bdsmcouple-amy-spanked-spanking

Seriously, how far back does the image of the husband commanding his wife go back? And yet, it’s not exactly who we are.

Amy doesn’t need discipline.

So we aren’t exactly Ricky and Lucy.

And do we need to define ourselves at all?

Will the thought police show up and drag me off as a perv if I call her “baby”, and if she calls me her “stallion,” will they round her up as a potential horse fucker?

Daddy/Little Girl.

It’s a dynamic, not literal.

Amy posted about how Master/slave didn’t capture the dynamic; nor did owner/owned. Neither does husband/wife.

Amy has two other nicknames for me – “The Boss,” and “The Bad Man.” On a good day, maybe “The Bad, Bad, Baaaaaad Man.”

But our relationship involves a more nurturing role for me. And Amy is not a pain slut who craves constant discipline. Amy is eager to be a very good girl. Disobedience is simply out of the question for her.

So.

What kind of relationship has a woman very eager to obey her partner, without question, and have him make the decisions and care for her needs?

For us, it’s a Daddy/girl dynamic.

It’s the most accurate descriptor for how the two of us interact.

In some ways it feels VERY vanilla. I mean, it’s a common theme in mainstream culture, from music to books to sugar daddies and typical flirtation between couples. For me, I grew up in an arch-conservative evangelical Protestant religion. We had an elderly couple in our church, pillars as it were – easily the most influential couple in our little community. He was on the church board, an elder, etc., and his wife, a white haired beehive fashion plate, led out almost weekly in some part of the service, and often referred to her husband.

She called him “Daddy.”

On formal occasions, she would add his last name after the word “Daddy.”

Maybe they were kinksters.

I think of the deep south. Cat on a Hot Tin Roof – Big Daddy. I see the Daddy/little girl dynamic almost everywhere – it appears to be timeless.

That will reassure Amy. She’s still convinced she’s vanilla.

But for now, who’s your Daddy?

Amy, I’m your Daddy.