This weekend Blackie and I are celebrating a personal anniversary: the first time we made love.
If you think I’ve titled this post out of the age-old female complaint that men are not romantics, that they forget such things as anniversaries, au contraire!
Blackie remembers everything.
Tags: BDSM relationships, no touching, phone sex availability, power play
Sucking his cock while he reads the paper or watches television is so demeaning…
It’s like you’re just a tool carrying out some perfunctory task, an everyday appliance doing an everyday boring routine thing that simply must be done.
What I do may be pleasurable, but I won’t be looked at, let alone given a smile for a job well done. Hell, even his hand gets looked at every now and then when he masturbates, but while I service him like this, I might as well be the coffee pot or the radio.
Like those appliances, I’ll only be noticed when I’m not working right — and then I’d probably get the old horizontal-slap or a kick too.
PS This photo isn’t of me. I don’t even know where it came from; if you do, let me know so I can properly credit it!
Tags: cock sucking, humiliation, no touching, power play, serving
I’m often asked if I really get off on pain. The truth is now I do — at least to the kinds of punishments Blackie prefers to give — but it wasn’t always that way.
I’ve always loved a lot of breast play (my nipples are red-hot express lines direct to my cunt), but spanking, paddling, clamps, clothespins, hot wax, rope burn, slaps, etc. — on my breasts or anywhere — and maintaining difficult positions was all definitely more pain than pleasure in the beginning.
While Blackie and I quickly discovered that I naturally became aroused by his inherent male powers over me, actual pain wasn’t so readily overcome by demonstrations of masculinity. Not even when combined with my desire to please him.
But Blackie knew just what to do.
As I’ve mentioned before, many D/s relationships are based on a submissive’s dependence. Not only simple acts of comfort or kindness, but a cleverly calculated combination of pleasure and denial.
For example, rubbing my pussy while spanking, paddling or cropping my ass, sends my brain a flood of conflicting input… Am I feeling pleasure or pain? Which am I feeling more of? It was horribly confusing…
But Blackie also used denial to make sure my brain and body were led from confusion and rescued — he made sure that the only time I experienced sexual pleasure was when I was experiencing pain at his hand.
Sure, I could suck his cock and get him off; but I never felt his hands or mouth or cock on me unless he was also hurting me in his desired fashion.
While he may have focused on one sort of pain or use at a time, the method was the same: pain always came with pleasure and pleasure never came without pain.
Until I began to have sort of Pavlov’s dog response. Eventually I learned to connect the pain (as in our earlier example) of being cropped with the euphoria of arousal and eventual orgasm.
No cropping, no coming; no pain, no gain. By George, my brain and body finally got it!
So much so, that when I was simply told to assume the position for a cropping, my cunt would drool! I might also be trembling with fear and crying in anticipation of the pain; but I was wet too. Even the next day’s bruises, welts, and sore spots became aphrodisiacs… Memories of what had been done, to me and by me; how I’d been undone.
Tags: BDSM relationships, crop, no touching, orgasm denial, pain as pleasure, pain not pleasure, Pinkie and Blackie history, serving, slave training, spanking
Member Master D.D. Tom has ordered this confession, in case others would like to learn a thing or two to exploit.
D.D. Tom likes to play with my tolerance levels. He likes to provide detailed descriptions of how I shall spend my days — and nights. He’ll control and limit my sleep; decide what, when, and if I’ll eat; make to-do lists of chores and corporal punishments — and masturbation sessions.
But D.D. Tom refuses to allow me to orgasm.
He likes me frustrated, tired, and more than a bit angry. He doesn’t mind my anger any more than he minds my exhaustion — in fact, he loves both. Does his best to bring it out in me.
He wants me to hate serving him, hate my helpless position doing what he says because I am bound to Blackie’s terms of service.
He combines the control of basic necessities with forms of mind control — trying to make me adopt ideas and ideals intolerable to me. It’s difficult to explain… Here are some examples:
He manages me mainly through NF messages, emails, and Twitter posts — the timestamps of my confessions (my descriptive messages, photos of hand-washing my panties and the bruises on the insides of my thighs, scans of my handwriting copying over & over & over again what he wishes me to believe) are proof of my compliance — so that even while he sleeps, he does so satisfied that I am doing as he wishes.
(He also likes to message Blackie and Marc detailed descriptions of his opinions, and this, along with my commanded confessions, is how he finds out how to push my buttons.)
All of what he orchestrates via messages builds to a rather short phone call, during which he quickly orders performances to exploit the aches, pains, and frustrations he’s created during the day.
He knows to use physical pain to tamper with my temper, using violence to force past my anger and resentment, shoving me into a sexual ache. Oh how I ache for that orgasmic release from him — even as I hate myself for doing what he says.
Satisfied he’s got me hungry past reason, he then supervises my masturbation.
He listens to the noises I make, manipulates me by his will, if not his actual hand, and makes me beg and cry for what I desire. I beg quickly and far too easily for an orgasm. I hate it. Am humiliated by it. And he knows it. When I’m too close, he’ll order me still and silent while he speaks…
He’ll speak softly, but with an icy steel command that forces me to listen while he calls me names; tells me how it pleases him to make me, a slutty bitch who doesn’t know her real place in life, do what he says; tells me that he enjoys knowing he can make me hate him, yet reduce me to tears and begging for a release I know I won’t get…
I listen in humiliated anger and shame while he masturbates to his own blessed event.
He makes sure I know he comes. His sighs of pleasure echoed by my whimpers of desire, tiny sobs I try to hold back out of pride, and despair.
Then, in a voice that sounds like a condescending pat on the head, he tells me to go to bed “like a good girl, now — no touching, no sin, just sleep.” That’s if I’m lucky. Usually he gives me some other service to perform, to make sure my hands aren’t idle and so have no time to stray…
In any case, just before he hangs up, he laughs — at me, enjoying the knowledge that he leaves me to my aching misery.
Tags: humiliation, lessons for bitches, no touching, orgasm denial, pain as pleasure, power play, serving, supervised masturbation
One of the perks of using NiteFlirt is the ability to pay for services in Pay Per View messages — like this.
Master Jim sent a message for me take very small rubber bands and wrap them twice around each nipple — not very easily done with such large nipples & small rubber bands, especially when you have long nails. But the greater difficulties were still to come…
Once the rubber bands were on, my nipples began to sting — sending waves of desire in my hungry pussy. But Master Jim had ordered me not to touch myself (feeding my cunt’s desire & distracting me from the pain). I was to occupy my time by taking photos of my nipples & sending them to him for 15 minutes, until he called.
When Master Jim called, I greeted him as have been trained to and then I continued to do as I was told.
First, I was to sit with my knees up & legs spread wide in front of a mirror so that I could tell him every visible change in my pussy as well as describe what I felt. (I’ve never done that before; it added a level of emotional discomfort which Master Jim exploited further, using my own body’s reactions to pain to humiliate me.)
Thanks to Master Jim’s willingness to share, Member Masters can see a few of the photos & read more details when they enter their password below.
(If you are not a Member Master & do not have the password to see all protected or Bound Posts, here’s how you get it.)
Tags: bound, humiliation, nipples, no touching, orgasm denial, pain as pleasure, pinching, rough tit play, serving, tit fuck, tools and toys
May may be Masturbation Month — a celebration of sexuality & self-love — but the way it’s being done here, I loath it.
Along with being humiliatingly forced to watch Blackie masturbate, I’ve been forbidden to masturbate. At first my sore breasts kept me from even thinking about it, but now…
And, as usual, Blackie has found new & cruel ways to exploit what I’m calling my Blue Ovaries.
After having been forced to watch Blackie masturbate as he humiliated me (one of several times that day), I was told to strip and then he cuffed me to a desk chair, tied each ankle to a part of the chair’s base (so that my legs were spread), wheeled out into the living room and made to watch porn — porn that I love — with him.
That would have been bad enough, but Blackie had to add his own painful, humiliating twists…
First he mocked me, talking about what scenes he knew I loved — where I’d be masturbating and how. He even came up and looked between my spread legs, commenting on the glistening evidence of my slutty shame.
When he grew sleepy, about 30 minutes later, he got up off the couch, switched off the porn, and placed a rope with a cowbell on it around my neck.
“Now, I’m going to bed — but I can’t trust that you’ll behave yourself…” he said as he bent and — for the first time in a week! — he fingered my wet slit. “Not this wet, I can’t, cunt,” he continued. “So, I”m leaving you here where you can’t break any rules — but don’t worry, I’m leaving you this bell. When you have to pee, you wake me.”
He stopped for a minute, had me suck his finger clean of my pussy juices, then continued.
“But I wouldn’t be too eager to wake me, if I were you… It might put me in a foul mood to be disturbed just for your stupid needs. You wouldn’t want that, would you?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Then again, I might not hear the bell right away, so don’t wait too long to use it either,” he said with a wicked laugh. Then he headed for bed, leaving me sitting in the dark, horny as hell — with a cowbell around my neck.
Tags: humiliation, no touching, power play
