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!
One of the most difficult things for me to to is to suddenly masturbate — especially under supervision.
Maybe it’s a girlie thing, feeling so uncomfortable performing something so intimate and private under such scrutiny… Fearing what I’ll look like, what faces I’ll make, while he’s not preoccupied with his own pleasure, his own experience, is humbling to say the least.
But it’s also the suddenness of it all.
Washing dishes, coming home from work, putting the groceries away — and then, BAM! the order.
“Strip to your bra and panties, get on your knees and masturbate.”
This is unlike other orders. Orders to suck his cock, to assume a position for him to enter me, etc., I simply submit to his needs; my pleasure is irrelevant. But to summon up “the mood” and perform for him, with all the disquiet in my head — knowing he knows me and my body better than I do, and so I cannot fake a thing — well, this is not easy.
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!
Member Master Derek sent me this photo with the following note:
Spotted this photo and instantly thought of our last party – however, what I see here is a greatly missed opportunity. Your task is to tell me what you think it is – what would your just desserts be?
Master Derek has also told me to share this — with Master Members only.
Blackie’s introduced me to a man — a man Blackie says is part of my training because this man can and will force me to experience things that I will struggle with. It’s only been one (monitored, via speaker phone) conversation, and I am struggling. Greatly.
It’s not as simple as the flippant blog post title says. It’s not just a matter of vanity, or difficulty with something new; it’s the intense and specific philosophy this individual man has. …You might say that this has to do with this man’s particular “brand” of livestock.
Because all of this is new and raw, because much of this, I imagine, will be greatly controversial to many people, I’m restricting the reading of the rest of this to Member Masters only.
(Number one, this limits access to verified adults only; and number two, it should minimize any fall-out, including challenges of philosophical differences and “factual debates” regarding definitions, etc.. I’m not prepared to do anything of that nature. At least not yet. Not simply because this is “new” to me, but because my personal philosophy is that dominance and submission, be it relationships, role play, or unshared fantasies, are individual and personal; the only one to judge them is the one having them, or ones asked to become involved in them. And I’m still working on that.)
Frankly, I wouldn’t even be sharing any of it other than I am ordered to do so — both by Blackie and by this man. They want to read it. To assist them in their exploitation of my head, psyche, and soul, no doubt. And, as most of my lessons have indicated, to make certain that I understand just what I am agreeing to, if and when it should come to that.
Masters and dominating males my have the “ayes” to determine just what happens, but often it wouldn’t mean is much if the eyes weren’t there to display the vulnerability, the pain, the consent, the fear…
The eyes may have it; but the “nays” have it far worse.
Refusing, resisting, is worse than futile; it hurts!
This past weekend, Blackie & Marc enjoyed fucking my face — and because I’m on a No Orgasm Order (until tonight?), they made the most of the situation. Not only did they take turns exploiting the hole in my face, but they humiliated me for my wet, aching and needy cunt.
The colors of our love... Not just our shopping (which is what primarily what will be covered still at the old blog), 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 which leaves marks, welts, and, sometimes, cuts... Blackie also thrills to make me flush pink with shame, humiliation and arousal.