Are we real? Yes, we are.

I’ve gotten a few emails from people asking if we’re real, if the things we write about are real and, if so, how THEY could go about having such a relationship. I’ve always replied, but I thought it might be worth a post too.

1. Are you and Richard real people? Yes we are real. We met on an online community last September. I saw his avatar (the little picture that shows up with your posts) and felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach. He felt the same when he saw mine. We flirted outrageously on the boards for a month or so before taking the flirtation to email, then to instant messaging (IM) and webcam (I hate webcam. I am not an exhibitionist. Hate it.) I remember thinking, after our first few email exchanges, “Gee he’s not just a pretty face with a great sense of humor. There’s some real substance to this guy!”

At the time, I thought I was a bedroom submissive (see my early posts) and Richard was determined not to get involved with anything more than that. We realized pretty quickly that this was different and we were not going to be satisfied with less than a 24/7 D/s relationship.

In February, we met in person for the first time and it was magic. I knocked on the hotel room door and the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen answered. The magnetism…unbelievable. (We talked about it later; both of us thought the other was attractive from IM, but were startled by HOW attractive the other was in real life.) He wasn’t expecting me for another half hour, so when I leaned across to kiss him he pulled away. Then when he realized it was me, he pulled me into the room and wrapped his arms around me and began to kiss me. We’d gotten a room with an incredible view but I didn’t see it for almost 15 minutes because he wouldn’t stop kissing me and holding me. When I finally pointed this out, he laughed and turned me to the window, then wrapped his arms around me again. It was another 15 minutes before I saw the room. We had four days, trapped in the hotel room because of bad weather, me experiencing D/s for the first time and both of us falling head over heels in love.

We had planned on waiting six to 12 months to be together, to get to know each other better and deal with the complexities of Richard moving across county. (Richard is a photographer and so much more flexible than I am. I am tied here both by my career and my children (shared custody).) But after the four days together, we decided that there was no point in waiting. We knew that we were going to be together, and each day apart was agony. It was hard for me to focus on my work; we would have marathon IM sessions, sometimes eight hours or more.

So Richard moved out two long weeks later, and we have been together since then. We’ve only been apart two nights, when I had to make a quick business trip to the east coast. I missed him. This blog chronicles our time together since near the beginning, so I don’t need to say any more. But, yes, we’re real.

2. Are the things you write about real? Yes, they are real. In fact, we only write about maybe a tenth of what we do. We are both too busy to write more than that, and we’re also both well aware that writing about sex can get repetitive and boring if you aren’t careful. So we have things that we do pretty regularly, but we only write about them once. For example, I’ve cum twice today in very similar ways, much like I cum almost every day – Richard began playing with my breasts, I begged him to fuck me, he did while telling me what a little slut I’ve become, needing sex so much, and how much he likes it, then he pulled out of me and made me masturbate until I was close to cumming, while pinching and sucking and biting my breasts, then when I begged to cum he teased me about not letting me then finally said yes, I had an earth-shattering orgasm and then he entered me again and fucked me until he came (omigod that fucking right after orgasm??!!! heaven on earth! can I get an “amen”?)

See, boring. I can’t write that over and over. Well, to be honest, it was a little different the first time today because in the middle of fucking me he put a pillow over my face and fucked me and made me cum that way. Still, you see my point: how many times can you write about that?

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Vacation and D/s

Before we headed east to visit family, I said I was unsure of “how to deal with the inevitable distance that will develop with less time alone, more responsibilities and less ability to focus exclusively on each other.”

The short answer is that we survived.

We had a lot of Quiet Sex. Well, not a LOT of Quiet Sex. But all the sex we had was Quiet Sex.

Quiet Sex can be fun for a change. Hushing each other, biting hard on the pillow, giggling when the bed slams against the wall or the boxsprings squeak just a bit too rhythmically.

Quiet Sex as a regular diet is frustrating. No time or privacy for simply snuggling and pillow talk is also frustrating.

We had one great photo shoot, from whence came the AirStream photo and some other pics yet to be posted. I really enjoy doing a shoot with Richard; I’ve mentioned before that it makes me feel very submissive and close to him. That was nice.

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We might have been able to do more D/s, but I think that Richard was focused on keeping me propped up until we got out of there. I felt like I was curled up into a mental fetal position, just trying to survive my mother’s nastiness until we could go home . (She’s not always this bad; things are tough right now and it brings out the worst in her. I’ve spoken to a lot of women my age who have mothers of HER age who seem to have become bitter and twisted with age, I guess from not living their lives the way they wanted to. I am determined not to end up that way.)

But as we headed west…things changed. Richard began to be more demanding. Fewer requests, more commands. That instantly caused a mental shift in me, bringing my focus back to him, and to us. The kids were with us, but they were happily playing with each other and the dogs in the back of the minivan, which gave us the freedom to talk for hours as we drove.

I didn’t make the mistake of renting a “suite” again. We got adjoining hotel rooms, and when the door closed on the kids and dogs, I was alone with a very aroused, very aggressive man. We still had to be quiet, but we had a long, wonderful night together, with little sleep. We reconnected as a D/s couple, as owner and owned, Master and slave, Daddy and little girl.

Now we’re at home, and the kids are with us for another five days. It will be three long weeks without a single spanking for me. During the day, when I’m not at work, I’m focusing on serving and caring for Richard – cooking nice meals, making sure he takes his vitamins, last night I made from-scratch margaritas! At night, when we climb into bed, I am his.

As I write this, I am tired, but very happy and peaceful. We survived the challenge of two weeks with relatives. Our young marriage and D/s relationship is stronger than ever. Life is good.

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.

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.

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!

How to be daddy’s little girl

This is a hard post to write. It’s taken me several months to become comfortable with being sexually submissive. I’ve written about how I’ve wrestled with the term “slave”, as well as the reality of being one.

This is harder. I’m afraid I’m going to squick some of you out. I could squick myself out if I’m not careful.

Richard has forced me, over the last few months, to face who I am, to look into the dark parts of myself and, rather than run and hide, to look harder. This doesn’t come naturally to me, and it has been scary. But, as I said to the silent male, it is incredible how easy everything is once you open up to who you really are, instead of trying to hide it or ignore it. So here goes the next step in that evolution.

Richard and I have talked about how the Master/slave dynamic doesn’t feel 100% right to us, nor does “owner/owned”. One of my problems is that I feel much more nurtured by Richard than those terms seem to imply. I feel like I have a more exclusive and intimate relationship with him than a slave would have with her Master. After all, a Master could have several slaves, yes?

Richard has called me “girl” since he’s known me. Recently he’s been calling me “little girl” and even “baby girl”. I LOVE it when he calls me that. It feels so completely right. It says to me: he’s in control and he will take care of me. All I need to do is be a good girl and do what I’m told. Heaven.

I told him that I wished there was a good word for who he is for me.

He said “What about Daddy?”

I said I felt funny using that word. Wouldn’t that mean I had serious unresolved issues with my own father? Wouldn’t that mean I was a screwed up freak? He didn’t think so.

I tiptoed around the word. I tested it out a couple of times during sex, mumbling it into Richard’s shoulder as he fucked me. It felt weird. Not good.

I realized that calling Richard “Daddy” made me feel more vulnerable and more submissive than I was yet comfortable with. I couldn’t believe that he could still love me and be attracted to me if I were that submissive. I still can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that, the more submissive I am, the happier Richard is. I guess I’ve been around men who’ve wanted to be dommed for most of my life.

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To put this in perspective: just a year ago, I learned that many men like women to shave their pussies (yes, I’ve been living in a closet). I thought that men who like this must be closet pedophiles, since young girls have bare pussies. Uh, no. Richard, at least, loves anything that lets him see more of me (remind me to tell you about my new micro bikini. Gulp.)

So what to do about this issue of what to call Richard? I’ve been calling him “Sir” when he gives me an order, Richard in front of others, and basically avoiding the issue.

Richard doesn’t like to avoid issues. Richard doesn’t like for me to avoid issues.

A few days ago, I woke up to him playing with my breasts. When he saw that I was awake he began talking to me.

“Daddy’s girl has beautiful breasts.”

I moaned and tried to pull away. He clamped down on my nipples and pulled me back against him.

“Be a good girl. Daddy wants to play with your breasts.”

He wrapped one arm tight around my waist so I couldn’t move and roughly tugged and pulled and pinched my nipples. I struggled weakly, but I was still groggy and he had a strong grip on me.

“Does that feel good? Tell Daddy how it feels.”

Oh god. It felt incredible. It felt so good, and I was still so groggy, that I wasn’t capable of answering. He kept playing with me and talking to me and when he flipped me onto my back and entered me a few minutes later, I was so wet it startled him.

“Oooooh, Daddy’s girl wants to fuck, doesn’t she? Are you a slut, little girl?”

Gah.

Afterwards, we talked about it. He had decided to push me on this, because he could sense that I had a lot of feelings around it. It turned us both on. A lot.

Today when he was fucking me, he told me that I wasn’t allowed to call him “Sir” anymore, only “Daddy”.

I’ve been calling him “Daddy” all day. It feels really hot. And really right.

Delaying sex to make her more horny

As I mentioned in a previous post, I’d hoped to get Richard drunk on daquiris and seduce him Tuesday night. To no avail. A few minutes after posting my wicked plans, I passed out face down on the couch. Honestly, he must have slipped something into my drink because no way do I get drunk that easily. Or maybe the long day had weakened my tolerance…

I woke up to the dog barking. Richard came over because I was so confused and gently helped me up. I couldn’t figure out what time or day it was. He finally managed to get me upstairs, where I proceeded to fall face first on the bed.

He took off my clothes and tucked me into bed.

I woke up in the morning feeling fine. We sleep in spoons, with my ass in his lap and his arms around me, holding my wrists in his hands. I wiggled around and snuggled up under his arm. He pulled me closer.

I started kissing his neck and nibbling on his chest and shoulders. He squeezed me tighter but didn’t open his eyes.

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I rubbed my chest against his. This usually works to wake him up. Today he just caressed me lightly for a moment then fell back asleep.

I flipped over and wiggled my ass against his belly. That woke him up.

“What are you doing, little girl?” he said groggily.

I giggled. He grabbed me by the hip and pulled me closer. I ground into him.

He groaned and buried his face in my hair. I could feel him nuzzling the back of my neck. His hand reached around to my breasts. He caressed them gently then began playing with my nipples.

But after a couple of minutes he fell back asleep!

This was challenging. I really needed him to fuck me. After a couple of minutes of fruitlessly rubbing and wiggling and snuggling, I knew that I had to do something more.

“Would you please spank me?”

“What?”

“Please spank me Richard. I really need a spanking.”

“Really? You WANT a spanking?”

“Yes please.”

He was wide awake.

“Roll over.”

“Yes sir.”

I rolled over. Then I got nervous.

“I don’t need a HARD spanking. Just a LITTLE spanking is fine.”

“Oh really.”

He began smacking my bottom, moving from side to side.

“Oh! Yes, just a little. Oh!”

“You want to decide how much spanking you get?”

He smacked a bit harder, and then he stayed in one place for a few smacks. That hurts worse.

I didn’t want to answer that question. Yes, of course I want to decide. But if I say that, will I get in more trouble? Probably. I kept quiet. Well, except for the inadvertent squeaks when he smacked me particularly hard.

But then he stopped and rolled me over and looked into my eyes.

“I like spanking you.”

“Yes.” (I know that, that’s why I asked him to spank me. I was hoping it would get me laid.)

He reached out, took my hand and placed it on his cock. His hard cock.

“I really like spanking you.”

“Ooooohhhh.”

And then, before I had time to think, he flipped me back onto my belly, hauled my ass into the air and slammed his cock into me. And it just got better from there.

So I did seduce him, eventually. No thanks to the daquiris.

Ownership, sharing and monogamy

Richard has discussed in an earlier post his interest in MMF threesomes, and his decision NOT to pursue them in our relationship. His decision was based on my very clear, very loud concerns about them (basically having to do with the potential physical and emotional dangers of bringing another man into the relationship), which led him to feel that it would be psychologically harmful to me to pursue them.

Mia, who posts here sometimes and has a great blog “What We Did Last Night”, posted about a MMF threesome she had recently. I loved her post and it helped me to understand what Richard meant when he talked about what turned him on about them: the woman’s over-stimulation and loss of self-control.

And for him, it is the ultimate sign of ownership, to share what is yours with another.
Amy – owned by Richard
I have always been monogamous. I think maybe I fall in love with anyone I fuck. I actually read something recently that supported that idea; oxytocin levels rise after fucking, oxytocin is a “bonding” hormone (grossly oversimplified), I figure I probably have the world’s highest naturally occurring levels of oxytocin. I am so completely focused on Richard that it is hard to imagine being attracted to another man, much less fucking him! And fucking him while Richard watches! Or joins in! Ack!

However, I’ve been thinking about threesomes a lot lately, because I know how erotic Richard finds them. I think maybe they are his biggest turn-on. I wonder if maybe I feel secure enough in our relationship to try this. It scares me, but maybe being scared can be part of the eroticism, like it is with being blindfolded or handcuffed. I really don’t know.

Richard says that every fantasy he has acted out/lived has turned out much better than he expected. I’ve always felt that fantasies are just that, and don’t need to be lived to be enjoyed. But now I’m living a life that I didn’t even know enough to fantasize about, and it’s WONDERFUL. So maybe this would be the same.

After we had been talking online for about a month, Richard sent me the following short-short story. (I had to dig and dig through my email to find it. I LOVE reading our old emails. The yearning!) I found the story very hot, but didn’t seriously consider it as something that could or would ever happen. I still find it hot…

Answering Richard’s call, Amy entered the room.

A man she didn’t recognize stood talking to Richard.

“Stand here,” Richard said. Then to the man, “show me what you meant.”

Amy, barefoot in a delicate t-shirt and sarong, waited as the stranger deftly untied the sarong, letting it drop to the floor.

Naked from the waist down, Amy stood shyly as the man used her lower body to illustrate some complex tattoo he had once seen, turning Amy around once to show exactly how it had risen over someone’s buttocks.

The demonstration over, Amy waited quietly.

“Beautiful woman,” said the man, almost as an afterthought.

“Yes she is,” answered Richard. “Listen, why don’t you stay for dinner?” With a nod indicating Amy, “We can sit up later with whiskey, and take turns fucking her by the fire.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

Richard turned to Amy.

“One more for dinner.”

How to make her cum really hard

I want to quote part of a comment we received on the “How I became a dominant  man” post.

“I hope that you share some details of how the conversation goes, I find what you both share to be intelligent, caring and informative… This is such a real-life relationship and we appreciate your opening yourselves up the way you both do.”
Jdslove

Amy didn’t like the idea of being disposable.

She thinks it is hot.

She doesn’t like it.

Fair enough.

We talked.

I tried to explain the feeling, the idea that I could afford to not take an opportunity to fuck her, for example, because I own her, and I have all the opportunities I could possibly want to fuck her.

She began to compare it to a woman in a singles bar, who doesn’t need to take every offer for sex, because she can have sex whenever she wants. Amy said when she goes to a bar, the last thing she thinks about is getting sex. Which of course the one thing many guys are totally focused on when they go to a bar (or anywhere).

So she began to understand the idea of passing up sex, because you can have it anytime you want.

But she doesn’t want to be taken for granted.

And she talked about being insecure.

We laughed a bit about this.

What does she need to be secure? We just got married, we are working on having a baby…we talked about a host of things that she could think about to make herself feel secure.

Now, Amy is a logical woman. She knows all this. But emotionally?

I think we lost some little bit of connection this past two weeks with some heavy workloads and family cares. Plus the vasectomy reversal surgery sent our sex life and physical connection into an unusual sort of limbo. And when you lose that connection, the first place it shows up is in insecurity. I doubt it would have shown up as insecurity at all, if not for events in our respective pasts.

We have discussed the ways in which we could have held more easily to our connection. I will be firmer with my direction of Amy when telling her what I want. I tend to be too polite, which can fog my true desires. I haven’t been physically aggressive with her as well – hey I’ve got stitches on my balls! I think we both need the rough play, we are used to it with each other, and when it was suddenly cut out we weren’t prepared for the loss of emotional intensity it engendered.

Insecurity comes and goes. We have been together a short time, physically. Three months. Longer online, but physically together, it’s been a short time and we are still learning about each other, and understanding our needs.

I understand Amy’s better now.

She understands mine better.

The only thing I didn’t like about her post was the “Meet the new Boss – same as the old Boss,” theme.

I’m not like her old Boss. I’m not like anyone she’s ever known. It pissed me off to read it, but I know she knows better.

Insecure or secure, happy or unhappy; I own her ass. And every other fucking inch of her.

Whatever problems we have, we settle between us. We talk. We face it. No retreat.

Nobody’s going anywhere.

No apologies either. I don’t want her feeling bad about being emotional.

I’m fucking emotional.

Amy has to be as utterly Amy as possible. I want to know what she loves, what she hates, what she she hungers for, what makes her shudder. It doesn’t matter a fuck if I don’t like what I hear. I want the real Amy.

I want to love the parts that even Amy doesn’t love about herself.

We’ll continue to deal with insecurity, and whatever else we uncover. I’ll continue to use her, throw her on the bed, fuck her, make her cum, or not let her cum, hurt her, pleasure her, all the things I like doing to her. Including treating her like a disposable fuck.

It’s who I am.

Owning your girl with more cum

What I did was…get up and get dressed and go downstairs and have coffee and get on with my day.

I have some ambivalent feelings about what Richard posted last, and I thought the best way to become more clear would be to write about it. We’ll see if Richard agrees; if this post disappears it’s because he doesn’t lol.

So. On the surface, his post is very hot to me. And being used is hot to me. I love it when Richard takes what he wants, ignoring my protests and pleading.

In fact, I think part of the reason our sexual relationship is so satisfying to me is that I KNOW Richard won’t do anything he doesn’t want to do. Which allows me to relax and enjoy myself; with past partners I was always so concerned that they weren’t doing what they wanted or that they weren’t happy that I couldn’t relax and have fun.

Also, Richard likes to do things that make me feel good. This morning he was playing with me, licking and sucking and teasing for probably an hour. When I came, I thought my head would explode (thankfully, not a migraine this time, just pure bliss).

And he doesn’t just do things for me sexually. Right now he is downstairs making dinner. He sent me up to take a nap because he could tell I was feeling a little tired. He’ll come get me when it’s ready, probably with a glass of wine for me in his hand.

So why am I feeling ambivalent about the last post? Well, I’ve spent most of my adult life in relationships in which I was taken for granted and more or less ignored. This comes a bit close to that for comfort. I don’t ever want to feel taken for granted again. Nevernevernevernevernever.

Richard doesn’t make me feel ignored or taken for granted, so I know this is just me being over-sensitive. But how do I deal with that?

As we’ve discussed in previous posts, it’s also been a crazy busy couple of weeks and we’ve had a lot less sex than we’re used to, because of Richard’s surgery. So I think I’m already feeling a tiny bit distant from Richard, a bit less connected, a bit less owned. Maybe I wouldn’t even have blinked at his post a few weeks ago. I don’t know.

In a way, it reminds me of how I felt when he posted about possibly exploring orgasm denial further. Ugh. I felt like “Wow. Orgasm denial. Gee, I’ve experienced that with partners for many a year.”

You know that saying “Welcome to the new boss. Just like the old boss.” ? That’s what I was thinking.

We talked about it and I think he understood how I was feeling. Hopefully he’ll understand how I feel about this. Maybe I just need a little petting and assuring. Sigh.