The Blossoming Of Our BDSM Relationship.

Tag: Pinkie and Blackie history

Sunday, August 23rd, 2015

Pinkie and Blackie: Tales of a Phone Sex Submissive

I’ve taken the best of my Bound Posts and put them into an ebook, Pinkie and Blackie: Tales of a Phone Sex Submissive, which is now only available at Amazon!

pinkie-and-blackie_1600x2400

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Thursday, November 24th, 2011

Dear Pinkie… What I’m Thankful For

Dear Pinkie,

I’m thankful for all that Marc writes — knowing that as you writhe in pain and hatred, it is me who holds you there. My ownership of you, what you suffer in your commitment to me, is as good as if my arms hold you down.

Have a happy, yet miserable, Thanksgiving while I’m away!

Blackie

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Thursday, June 16th, 2011

Protected: A Homecoming For Three (Which Doesn’t End Well For Me!)

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Wednesday, March 9th, 2011

Confessing Things I’m Afraid Of, Number One

There have been a lot of changes here at Chez Blackie…

Some I’ve resisted discussing because I haven’t felt brave enough to talk about them when I’m not even sure how I feel about them myself. As usual, Blackie orders me to confess my fears — in part to enjoy the delicious exploitation of it, but also to help me find my way out of the murky bewilderment of fear and confusion.

He cloaked his order in a “confess 5 things you are afraid of” task — which I’m sure is partly a test to see if I confess this one big thing. He’s also commanded that I confess each fear, one at a time, giving each it’s exploratory due; so there will be (at least) four more confessions this week.

But here’s the big relationship one…

Blackie wants me to hand my business over to him. Officially it ill be a sale of the business, with money going into my bank account for that Female Rainy Day Protection Fund. But the woman in me knows selling my company, even with cash in hand, means more dependence upon Blackie. And, should the worst occur, getting back into the business won’t be as simple as setting up shop once again… Time away is blank on a resume or portfolio.

There are pragmatic reasons for such a sale. Much of my work is done for Blackie’s company, so it makes sense for his bottom line to do more in house — keeping my employees employed and money still in our pockets. Blackie’s work forces him to travel a lot and he’d like me by his side (or under his thumb lol) more — which the sale of the business would allow.

But I can’t help but worry-wonder what else he has up his sleeve…

I’ve been around Blackie long enough to know he’s shrewd enough to have more on his agenda than his corporate bottom line — what plans does he have for my ass?

Further convincing me that this is more about our lifestyle than money or even our relationship, are his continued talks with that farmer fellow

I don’t think this decision is a make-or-break one in terms of our wedded bliss — Blackie’s style isn’t to force or make ultimatums; he prefers I acquiesce and submit to his desires as softly as a kitten. But if I do not agree, will there be lingering resentment? If so, his — or mine because I will never know the road not taken? Of course, if I do take the plunge, will I like the waters I find myself in?

I tell myself if I knew what his ultimate intentions were, it would be more fair or at least easier to decide… But then I know that’s not what he wants. He wants me to trust in his choices, to submit to them always, no matter how they test me, body and soul. So knowing what his full intentions are would come at the cost of failure to at least trust that far… Which, I suppose means, that if I am to succeed, I must say, “Yes, Sir.”

But I cannot find peace with that yet.

…Though can anyone find peace until after then have made the choice?

The future, my future, is filled with uncertainty.

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Friday, August 27th, 2010

The Foreshadowing Of Big Breast Abuse

Back when Blackie & I were dating — in that early stage of infatuation & insecurity — I teased him with an observation about the other women I’d seen him out with. Most of them were members of the itty-bitty-tittie-committee, and I, well, I have 36Es. So my teasing was as much about being reassured that he found me attractive, even if I feared I wasn’t his usual “type.”

I distinctly remember saying to him, “Well, you clearly subscribe to the ‘More than a mouthful is wasted’ philosophy… So I guess my ample charms are, if not an actual waste, wasted on you.”

I also distinctly remember his reply. “I assure you they are desired in equally ample proportion — and they certainly will not go to waste.”

At the time, my ego delightfully wrapped it around me as warm reassurance that he found me sexy. But now, I’ve come to understand that he meant that literally: No part of my breasts shall be wasted, no small space shall go without it’s attentions, use & abuse.

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Saturday, August 14th, 2010

Protected: The Making Of A Pain Slut

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Thursday, May 27th, 2010

This Was My First Leash & Collar

Like in this photo from GirlFolio, my first experience with a leash and collar was nothing fancy, nothing planned, and it certainly wasn’t all dark & scary looking…

Getting dressed one morning for work, I’d simply began messing around with Blackie, trying to get a little attention from him — some sexual attention. I was brat-ish, prancing myself in various forms of undress in front of him, teasing him that he should be late for work.

When he paid me no mind, I reached for the white shirt he’d so carefully pressed, slid it on, but left it unbuttoned and open, and teased him while he shaved at the sink.

When I still didn’t get any reaction from him, I behaved even more like a spoiled brat. I got his tie, placed it around my neck, made a loose knot and started swinging the tail of tie around like a burlesque stripper would a feather boa, and, other hand on my nip, I taunted him that a real man would pounce all over this.

I caught his eye in the mirror before he turned to face me slowly — I saw a spark there and thought I was going to get my way, so I giggled and backed up towards the bedroom.

He charged after me, grabbed me by the tie, then grabbed another handful of my hair and drew me close. Still pulling my hair, he tipped my head back and said, “You wanted my attention, spoiled brat, now you’ve got it.”

I thought he was going to kiss me — but he let go of my hair and led me by the tie to the bed, where he then sat down. He looked at me intensely. I was excited, expecting a divine session of being ravaged on the bed. But instead — in an instant — he’d dropped the tie and flipped me over his knee.

Over my girdle he spanked my bottom. Hard.

I yelp and squirmed in shock — then anger. But he held onto me with one arm, locking me in place for the bare handed spankings that continued to come.

He said nothing until he was done. When he let me up, all he said was “I told you now was not the time; maybe next time you’ll listen to me.”

Then he returned to the bathroom to restart his shave, but he ducked his head back into the bedroom for a minute to say, “Wear the shirt & tie today; I’ll meet you for lunch at your office at 12:30.”

And I stood there too stunned to say anything.

(To be continued.)

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Thursday, March 25th, 2010

Protected: Fucking Bitch

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Monday, March 22nd, 2010

Can There Be Limitless Limits?

Saynine’s This Isn

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Tuesday, November 10th, 2009

The Gift, Explained

Some of you likely don’t care so much about this conversation which occurred after Marc left — you’d prefer I’d get on to the parts of the story in which my body is used and abused. But I think it’s important to share some of the realities of such BDSM fantasies. Not so you “believe me,” but so you understand what risks there are here… And why Blackie was willing to risk them.

Any relationship fights against boredom, but with BDSM relationships, there are often times when couples need to consider just how far they can go — and whether or not they should. Some fantasies are probably best left as fantasies; either reality will never ever live up to them, or the dangers outweigh the gifts. But how can you tell which are which? And when you are in a relationship — even one in which a partner, like myself, has given their control over their intimate sexual lives over to their Master — the two of you must either A) agree or B) the Master must bear the weight of decisions which may ruin or end the relationship. So yes, Blackie had put much thought into this seemingly ‘fast’ decision.

Blackie and I had, several times, discussed his fantasies of having me serve others at his command. His concerns were health & safety. My concerns were that by allowing others to use me, the door was opened for him to play with others. And we both worried about the possible risks to our relationship that would obviously exist outside our sex lives.

So, after Marc left, Blackie turned his attentions to me. He didn’t release me from my position — nor did he remove the ball gag — while he told me his plans. (I bet every husband has wanted to keep his wife his silent captive audience while he broke discomforting news to her, but in this case, I suppose it was really the only way he could be sure he was heard.)

“I’ve been thinking about this a very long time, Pinkie,” he began. “I know you have questions, concerns, but let me assure you that I’ve given this a lot of thought. Not just masturbatory thought — though that’s been delicious — but I’ve thought about our relationship as well… I suppose it began last year, during the golf circuit, when I saw Carmen bitching to hotel staff and I saw how those men looked at her… I toyed with offering them you in her place — and knowing how they’d looked at you, how they assumed you were the same sort of rich bitch as she, I knew they’d delight in taking their frustrations out on you — but there are health and safety concerns. I racked my brain, trying to work out how to create such scenes, how to make you serve me & my whims by serving others — and others you had no feelings for but would still see again, and so be humiliated.”

“And then it hit me; I didn’t need to look so far away — I had someone in my backyard that was drooling for such an opportunity. Marc. And along with testing your love and our agreement, along with the fun of training this novice, I would have the pleasure of using & exhausting you as never before. Now when I leave town, you’ll have your own temporary Master, you’ll play by his rules. All I needed to do was get a clean bill of health — and as his employer, that would be a snap. So I hired him. I hired him for me, for you, for us. By hiring him, he can easily travel with us on my business trips too. Because you love me, your training has been somewhat easy… It’s easy to submit to someone you love — but someone you dislike, don’t respect? Someone who by this point, has no illusions about his feelings for you — he just wants to use you, put you in your place, humiliate you. And I get to watch it, control it, hell, even orchestrate situations and conditions neither of you have thought of yet.”

“I know you are probably flattered at this point,” he mocked me, fully aware that I was nowhere near sold on the idea, let alone excited by it, “But you may be worried about Marc’s loyalty… Will he keep his mouth shut when and where needed? Of course he will. Not only does his salary & resume depend upon it, but he hungers to punish you. And his need to punish you, this bitch who rejected him, has only intensified his deep desire to explore BDSM — and who better to learn from?”

He leaned in, trailing his fingers over my bare breast, and continued, a fire bright in his eyes. “And such a pretty bit of meat to play with, abuse, and learn — and make mistakes — on!”

“All for free — no, all that and to be paid for it? No, Marc has nothing to gain from overstepping the rules.”

“And we, you & I, we have plenty to gain from this.”

At this point Blackie gently lifted me forward and freed my arms. I briskly rubbed them while I avoided his gaze. “Look at me.” I refused for a second, but before he could repeat himself I looked him squarely, defiantly in the eyes. “I’ll remove the gag now, but you will say nothing. Just get yourself ready for bed. We have company to entertain early tomorrow. And you should really save that silly prideful anger of yours for tomorrow’s play — I have a feeling it will be a long day, Pinkie dear.”

With that he said goodnight, ordered me to sleep on the sofa (so that my tossing & turning wouldn’t bother him), and went up to bed.

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  • Pinkie and Blackie…
    The colors of our love... Not just our shopping, but the colors that I as a pain slut prefer to wear...


    I am not called Pinkie because my coloring is naturally pink -- but I am naturally a pain slut, and love to be made pink from spankings & other physical abuse. Blackie likes to push those limits, give punishments which leave marks, welts, and, sometimes, cuts... Blackie also thrills to make me flush pink with shame, humiliation and arousal.


    He was called Blackie long before I met him.

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