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!

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.”

Trying to get him drunk

Shhhh. I’m trying to get Richard drunk.

We’ve been way too busy. And then we went out into the desert which was wonderful BUT I didn’t get the hot tent sex I was hoping for.

Why? Because it was Memorial Day weekend. Doh. We could hear when the neighboring campers zipped open their tent, for goodness sake.

You may be thinking here “But wait. Wasn’t she posing for nekkid pics out there?” Well yes. The campsites were completely full, but nobody seemed to go more than about 10 meters from their site. So that was not a problem.

And by the way. Richard had shown me a lovely picture, a panorama of the desert with, far in the distance, a woman perched on a rock. Me. Naked, yes, if you looked hard enough. But blending in to the natural surroundings, much like the lizard he posted below. That’s what I thought he was going to share with you.

But nooooooo. I open up the blog to see what everyone has said about the desert trip (I’m becoming very attached to y’all) and I get a FACEFUL of Amy. I’m glad people liked it, but I’ll admit it was a bit of a shock.

Anyway. I’ve made a blenderful of strawberry daquiris. I’m plying him with them. Richard didn’t drink until his thirties, whereas I come from Germanic stock and so have been drinking since I was knee high to a grasshopper (as they say in Holland) (not really).

So I’m thinking that I will be able to get him drunk and take advantage of him. Maybe even tie him up? Who knows what can happen when you get a domly type tipsy (say THAT three times fast)?

I’m a teensy bit worried that he may have alternative plans however. I just noticed that his glass is quite a bit fuller than mine. Hmmmm. I’m going to log off now and refresh his drink. Wish me luck!

Star Trek and BDSM

Did I getcha with the title? No, I’m not talking about James Kirk as submissive male.

Several years ago I saw an episode of Star Trek, Next Generation that stuck in my mind. At the time, I didn’t realize why it had such an impact on me, but after I discovered BDSM and in particular D/s I understood. We had a scorching hot discussion after I first told Richard about it, on IM. I think it helped him understand me better, in those pre-meeting days. I remember not being able to sleep that night because I was so turned on. Recently I Netflixed it so that I could show him. It’s not sexy per se, but the implications of it are very sexy to me.

The episode is titled “The Perfect Mate”. Briefly, the Enterprise is hosting a meeting of rapprochement between two worlds. The ambassador from one world, who is picked up first, brings a precious gift for Alrik, the leader of the other world: a woman. Kamala is an empathic metamorph; a very rare mutant who has the ability to sense what men desire and mold herself to their wishes and interests. Empathic metamorphs imprint on and become the ideal mate of one man.

On the way to pick up Alrik, Kamala is accidentally brought out of stasis (blasted Ferengi!). This moves forward her development so that she is in a stage in which she is sending off strong sexual signals to all men. After a few incidents, she decides to remain in her quarters. Jean-Luc, tough guy that he is, tries to stay away from her although he is fascinated by her as well. However, they are thrown together to work on the ceremony of reconciliation and the attraction is intense. She’s smart, strong and intuitive – everything he finds most attractive in a woman (naturally).

Jean-Luc manages to keep her at arm’s length, but only just, and they pick up Alrik. When Jean-Luc goes to Kamala’s room to bring her to the wedding ceremony, she tells him that she has completed her development prematurely and has imprinted on him, rather than on Alrik. However, her strong sense of duty (in part due to her upbringing, but also due to becoming Jean-Luc’s ideal woman) means that she will marry Alrik, to maintain peace between the worlds. She will not reveal to anyone that she has already imprinted, and points out that she is still empathic, so she will still be able to make him happy.

The worst part: Jean-Luc has met Alrik, who is a homely, superficial twit unworthy of Kamala. Nevertheless, he acts as best man at the wedding and hands over his perfect mate to a lesser man.

*sob*

When Richard and I first began to spend time together online, we were flirtatious but also pretty cool. We were trying to be cautious. So we talked about kink more intellectually than emotionally and we talked about a lot of other things too (as we continue to do). However, Richard gradually moved to claim me and to exert control over me, and our relationship became closer to what it is now.

During one IM, I said “I am for you, Richard” and he asked what I meant. I hadn’t thought of it when I said it, but I remembered that this was what Kamala said when she came out of stasis, thinking that Jean-Luc was Alrik: “I am for you Alrik”. That was eye-opening. As we discussed it, I began to understand what it was I wanted in a relationship and what I wanted to be.

I want to be owned. By one man.

I want to be completely his.

I want to be what he wants me to be, in all ways.

I want that man to be worthy of me, and to bring out the best in me.

I want to be cherished for this, to be seen as a rare and precious gift.

And I am.

How to fuck a face

Isn’t that a nasty sounding term – “face fucking”? Or maybe it’s just me.

Richard told me, before we met, that he didn’t really enjoy oral sex (done unto him) very much, although he liked giving oral. He found it too passive, and got bored easily. I imagined him staring at the ceiling, thinking about what color to paint the ceiling, as I knelt between his legs licking and sucking his cock. His attitude was a bit disappointing to me, because I really love to give oral and consider myself rather good at it, too.

But neither of us had experienced face fucking. Me, because I’ve never been in a D/s relationship before this and Richard, because he’d never been interested.

One day I decided, after we’d been kissing and making out for a while (I think he’d already fucked me at least once), that I would see if I could convince him that oral wasn’t such a bad thing.

I began kissing his neck, then down his chest and belly, then nibbled on his hips and along the inside of his thighs. I nudged at his balls and slowly, gently licked and sucked one into my mouth, and then the other.

I looked up at Richard. He didn’t seem to be thinking about painting the ceiling.

His cock was already hard and straining as I licked up its underside. I ran my tongue along the head and into the crease, then I slid my lips over the head. I began slowly sliding my mouth down the shaft, with my tongue working the underside.

I looked up again, with his cock in my mouth. I seemed to have his attention.

I would slide down an inch, licking to keep him wet, then increase pressure as I pulled my mouth up to the tip, then slide down a couple of inches, increase pressure and pull up again, then do it again a little further. My hand was on his belly; I could feel him breathing shallowly.

I was feeling a bit smug. Mr. “I’m In Control Around Here” was putty in my hands.

Suddenly, he reached around to the base of my neck, twisted my hair around his hand a couple of times and used it to shove my face onto his cock.

I gagged; Richard is not a small man.

He held me down like that, with his cock deep in my throat. I was choking and struggling, but that didn’t seem to faze him.

He tightened his grip, and pulled me off his cock, but only to the tip. He held me there for a moment, then plunged me back onto it. I gagged, and drool began to pool at the base of his cock.

He pulled me up again, then began to face fuck me in earnest, rhythmically pushing me down and yanking me back up, with a firm grip on my hair and the base of my neck. My eyes were watering, but after a minute or so I was accustomed to being deep-throated and no longer gagged at each plunge onto his cock.

After a few minutes, he pulled me up, half an inch from the tip of his cock, and held me there. I could see his cock, but I could no longer touch it or taste it. It had become unbelievably hard and large. My jaw was aching, my eyes were tearing, but oh, I wanted him to face fuck me more. I moaned and tried to reach for his cock with my mouth. He pulled me away, still tantalizingly close, and laughed.

“Not bad. Now I’m going to train you to do it how I want it done.”

To be continued…

How to get her pregnant

Sex with Amy is a continuum; I’m not always sure when one episode starts and another ends.

Maybe the aggression wipes out short term memory.

As much as I like the Daddy/little girl dynamic, I don’t necessarily think of Amy as a little girl.

I think you can see why.

bdsmcouple-amy-sideboob

Amy and I were lying in bed yesterday around 6:30, just talking and waking
up, when I noticed how beautiful the light on the wall was.

I had her stand against the wall, and shot a few dozen pictures.

This is one.

I think of Amy as “Mine.” I expect her to submit, to obey, to be a good girl. I expect to use her and force her to do what I want.

A few days ago I wanted to fuck her, but I wanted her all tits and cunt. I turned her head to one side, and pressed a pillow over her face. I had her masturbate and cum like that, then I fucked her with the pillow over her face; all wriggling cunt and bouncing breasts. Lovely.

At some point, a day later, maybe more, it’s kinda blurry, I played with her, fucked her, made her masturbate and cum, but didn’t cum myself. I warned her that I’d use her later in the night, after I’d rested.

Didn’t happen.

I slept too soundly, and awoke early in the morning.

Amy lay beside me in a thin t-shirt, because she had felt chilled when she went to bed the night before.

We talked briefly, I don’t remember about what, but I do remember something about torturing her. I remember wanting to, anyway. Then I told her to open her legs, because I wanted to fuck her. As I moved onto her, I remember very clearly her nipples jiggling with her breasts under her shirt, and feeling offended that she had the t-shirt on st all, but also thinking “Fuck it, I don’t want your tits today anyway. This is for me, not you.”

Amy likes breast play, but no way I was giving her anything to work with. I wanted to use her, not make love to her. This was a fuck for me.

I entered her, and I remember being proud that she was wet enough to force my way into her pussy easily, and feeling proud that she was enough of a slut to always be ready to fuck, without foreplay, without warning.

Good girl.

I fucked her in silence, or so I thought. Amy told me the next day, when she dared bring up the previous day’s fuck, that I had been growling deep in my throat from time to time. The kinda growl she pays close attention too.

Could be. I was focused on other things.

I pulled her legs up, and held her thighs open with my biceps, while I had her put her arms down along her sides, where I grasped her wrists, essentially pinning her to the bed, unable to move her legs nor her arms.

Then I fucked her.

Often fucking is a below the waist thing, all hips and pelvic thrusts.

Not now. I full body fucked her, my weight unsupported by my arms, which were busy holding her legs apart and immobilizing her wrists. I drove into her with the force and weight of my full body, forgoing any pretense of making this pleasurable, or even comfortable for her.

This was my fuck.

I fucked her in a few different ways, always pinning her, immobilizing her, not letting her free.

Until I wanted her wetter.

Two ways work for making Amy even wetter. Have her suck my cock, and making her masturbate. I like making her suck my cock, especially when she chocks and almost vomits. I love hearing her gag when I thrust deep down her throat.

But I wanted to rest a moment, let her get wet, and then cum in her. So I told her to masturbate.

I’m not a cruel man. She’d been a good enough girl, compliant, obedient, if a little scared, so I told her “I’ll give you two minutes. If you can cum in two minutes, fine. Otherwise, you aren’t getting to cum.”

Amy begged to have longer, to be allowed to cum, but as I said before, this wasn’t her fuck. I’m giving her two minutes, then I’m finishing her off.

She started to masturbate.

I may have played with her tits through the t-shirt, I don’t remember. I remember reaching down to check her wetness, and deciding her little cunt was close to what I wanted, and that I was going to fuck her shortly.

I think she whimpered.

I didn’t feel very patient. I wanted to fuck the little slut NOW.

But.

I had promised two minutes.

I gave her two minutes.

I went to open her legs and climb between them, and she resisted. Or maybe she didn’t resist. Her legs were just stiff. Usually her legs open easily for me, especially when she’s scared of me, but this time she felt unusually rigid.

No problem. I forced her legs open firmly, and a part of my brain suddenly thought that she might be cumming at that instant, which would explain the rigidity of her body. I figured I might be wrecking her orgasm, interrupting it, but what the fuck. I gave the little cunt two minutes, and now I want her.

She told me the next day that she was indeed cumming, and that she was making little cumming noises. Whatever. I didn’t notice them. I wanted her cunt.

I thrust back into her again.

I fucked her, pinning her in some fashion, I’m not sure what now. But I remember her biting me, biting my shoulder repeatedly, maybe my arms and chest too, it’s hard to be clear. Amy fucks like a wild animal. A scared wild animal, but a wild animal nonetheless. She bites, she writhes, she moans, she claws- none of which she can remember after. I’ve been carrying bite marks and bruises since we met. I counted eleven distinct bruises one day, all in varying degrees of visibility.

She can bite all she wants. I’m all cock and violence, fucking her pinned pussy. It occurs to me, dimly, that she might already at this moment be pregnant.

I like the thought.

In another moment, in all the struggling and chaos of fucking her, forcing her, I empty into her.

I flood her with cum; with my sperm.

I feel primal. I want to see the cunt pregnant.

I want to make her belly swell.