Monday, December 28, 2015

Following directions

Short, clear, and to the point.

Stand in front of me.

Clothes off.

Fold them... You aren't a slob.

Get your red outfit on. (A matching red lace bra and panty set He bought for me)

Go get the paddle.

On the bed, belly down.

He starts with mild taps.  I still jump at the first swat.  I am not in trouble, I have earned no punishments.

He just likes His new paddle.

Ass up.

Count.  LOUDER.

Some of the cracks from the paddle make me break into a sweat and take all the breath from me, others cause me to yell out, and some sink me into a puddle.

He is not wanting to hear my yelps of pain.

No more yelling.

If I hear "ouch" again, we're done.

THAT is your safe word today.  

Do you understand?

Yes, Sir.

He continues on with a variety of heavy paddling and easier to take lighter strikes.

Then he settles in on the same spot over again...


I yell out uncontrollably.

We're done.

Paddle away.

He then directes me...To get out my new gift.

I unlock our play drawer and pull out my new toy.

Get your towel and your lube.

Face down.

I comply.
As he begins to insert my new gift.

My anal hook.

Friday, December 25, 2015


My Man and I wish you a very Happy Holiday season! 
Thank you to all the amazing bloggers, readers, and friends who have been such a support throughout this entire year. Blog-land is such amazing place to be and I am so thankful to be part of it!!

Sunday, December 13, 2015

Anniversary gifts that just couldn't wait....

My ring.  The ring fit for a submissive.

HIS submissive
"HANS underdanig"written inside the corset ring


His gift.  A metal stamped keychain.
The latitude & longitudinal coordinates of the place we were married.
And, a message, more of a title really....


As he is and always will be........

Thursday, December 10, 2015


I am feeling reflective.  Maybe it's the holidays or the year drawing to an end.

I see my MD tomorrow.  Checking on the old and figuring out the new.  This will be the first time I have seen him since he put me on Wellbutrin.  I know he will ask about my mom and about how I am doing.  I can't help but reflect back to the absolute pain and helplessness I was going through just a few short months ago.

I have had this image in my head.  One I must have seen in a movie before.  There is a person who is about to be executed right in front of his loved ones.  I see his face.  So much dialogue in the silent glance he offers his family.  He is pained.  There is a look of terror on his face that is an absolute heart-stopping pale faced terror.  He has no control over all that is taking him over and he knows that this darkness is taking him quickly.

His words attempt to reassure his loved ones, "it's ok".
But, his face.
He is pleading for mercy, pleading for help, pleading for his life.

I have seen this image.  And, it was me.

Absolute terror that the darkness was taking me quickly.  I reflect back to how I felt a few months ago and I see a woman pleading for help.  Pleading for mercy.  Pleading for her life.  I could not allow my loved ones to know just how far that terror took me, I would never have allowed them to feel that same helplessness and darkness but that didn't mean I didn't desperately want to be saved.  I never once thought of harming myself but I always feared that I would be taken so far away that I would never return.

That image is ingrained in my head.  I remember the fear peaking out a few times.  Crying out, begging for help, no longer able to bottle up the panic.  Very few times, I could no longer say, "it's ok" because I no longer knew what "ok" felt like.  Panic attacks should only last for moments.  This lasted MONTHS.

My face.
Would plead for

I see that image.  Often.  And, I am so sad for that girl.  The isolation she felt even in a room full of love.  The pleading in her face.  Hoping someone might be able to save her.

I am so thankful that I journaled throughout.  Some posted, some kept private, but all poured out of my breaking soul.  I never buffered my thoughts when I wrote.  Looking back, I see how lucky I am to have had that little moment.  That one opportunity to run.  To get away from the attack and yell for help.  I had someone looking for me.  A few someone's in fact.  

Yes, I am feeling very
And loved.

Sunday, December 6, 2015

A good girl spanking and a reminder of who owns you...

Punishment is still visibly fresh on my bottom.  Still a bit tender.
My intent to serve is focused, as is His intent to lead.
Yes Amy, I do believe we have a dance, my Man and I.

He says as he strokes my bare bottom, spreading my bottom hole.

I might not want this right now but I need to know that you will take all of me when I do.

I relax as he explores.  He pokes and prods, testing my obedience to be a good fuck hole.

*As a side note, do you other subs get an actual high as you surrender to being objectified, explored, and pained for pleasure?!? I cannot imagine that I am the only one addicted to this!  I KNOW I'm not =) actually. Just kidding =)

You are still on punishment with clit orgasms but do you want me to make you cum tonight?

Yes, Sir.

Get my stick.

I am slightly confused. More punishments? I have been a good girl but I can always do better.  His punishments are warranted and never questioned.  Our stick has not been for play or maintenance lately.  He now decides on punishments and the past few times He has asked for His stick it is to reign in His distracted sub-wife.  I have a new inner peace that I go to when I start to question, worry, analyze.  And, as I grab His stick, I go to that surrendered place.  Punishment or pleasure.  His decision makes these two words slightly irrelevant.  My inner dialogue is unnecessary.  He will say the words I am to hear and my body will feel exactly what He wants it to feel.

He begins a tap-swat rhythm and covers my entire backside.  There are no words of correction, only directions of what position He is wanting me in and the order to tell Him if any strikes become too hard.  At some point He orders me face down on the bed and ass high in the air then pulls my arms up above my head and places my hands around one of the headboard logs. I notice the strain immediately of having my arms extended and placed over my pillow so I move my right arm under the pillow and back to the holding post.  My Man quickly removes my hand and positions my arm back above the pillow and back to holding in place.  This interaction between us is so calming.  I honestly cannot remember if a correction swat was given because in that moment there was nothing for me to overthink- the exchange occurred and I was simply given to Him.

After quite a few position changes and even more swats of all strengths He begins to pepper in some much stronger hits.
**sorry, another side note. He mentioned after my punishment spanking a few days ago that this (blind tilt cane-type) stick had become curved so badly during that spanking that he had to keep turning it to straighten it out and He did consider how fitting it would have been had He actually broken the stick on my ass.  These swats are strong but still nowhere near my punishment evening.

I am vaguely aware that my bruises are now getting bruises.  The reintroduced pain on those spots is equally relieving and deeply painful. He is pushing my endurance and I would stay there with Him until I collapsed if I had to.

He places the stick next to us on the bed....

You have been so good this week.  If you want more hard ones you are going to have to ask me.  
You can have them, you deserve them, but you have to ask me.

All the while He is scratching past my welts and marks with His fingernails, making me writhe.

Can I have another please? 
I squeak out.


I can feel this deep in my core as I recover by breathing.  He continues to torment my freshly beaten ass with His scratches until I ask for the next one.

Can I have another please?

He even offers me a choice as He taps each of my bottom cheeks,
This one?
Or this one?

I choose the less hurty one.

My asking slows down, positions and activities change, events become blurred.  At some point I am directed to get the lube.  On all fours, I reach into my bedside cabinet, grab the lube and hand it to Him.  He places my towel under me as He coats my soft parts.  He hasn't fisted me in a while but I understand that this needs to happen.  This is the purest act of submission for me- before we became D/s this was my first act of submission to Him and the first time He took full control and decided my limit was much further.  He was right.

He coats me inside and out.  I am so tight.  He places fingers inside me, coaxing, stretching....


I breath slowly and release any remaining control.  He proceeds further as I squeak little cries out.  No effort is behind my cries, my body is limp as I provide no resistance to where my Man is taking me.  My body reminds Him how long it has been and as He patiently opens me a little at a time.  He changes my position, looking to find less resistance.

How many times has my hand been inside you? 

I don't know baby, a lot.
I whimper out in surrendered pain.

Right. So you can take me. 

Yes, Sir.
Little sobs escape my mouth.

This is unexpectedly difficult for me, I am not physically allowing Him in easily and my tolerance is straining.  Long ago, I would beg for Him to talk to me at his point unsure of how to let go. We have found our balance now and our abilities to lead and follow have just melded together.

He continues to talk to me. Continues to push through my body's natural resistance. And, after what
seems like an eternity I am begging to cum.  He has brought me to a place of perfect servitude.  What I would have stopped long ago and said I could take no more, He not only wanted more but knew I had more to give to Him.  I am crying out numbers as I count each orgasm out for Him soaking the towel below me. He likes me to feel this.  He needs me to let go.  He likes to hear my cries as each layer of my body and soul is stretched to wrap around Him.  There is NOTHING quite like this surrender.

Wednesday, December 2, 2015


Via the blog, perception can be skewed.  We write of our moments. Our moments that shine (or leave bruises and floaty feelings).  Our moments of darkness (sadness, mistakes, anger).  If I wrote of the mundane, I would just go on Twitter. (To be total full disclosure here, I know nothing about Twitter, I just hear that people post ridiculous stuff i.e. "Walking the dog" or "hiccups.....again" and similar who cares updates.

O/our life is FULL of the who cares updates.  We clean up dog puke, chauffeur our kids, tell horrible jokes, hide the Christmas gifts......all of that fills the time between the shining and the darkness.  You all get my shining prettiness and my stupid little fucker darkness.

 These are my moments.  O/our moments.

Moments that I never want to forget.  Moments that W/we are not U/us without.  Moments that move me to tears, "for better or for worse".  I want them all.  W/we want them all.

I am no robot and he is no comic book hero.

But, I am the perfect answer to his question, every time.
And, he is in every loving moment I will ever experience.

I don't love my Man in silence.  I never have. Never will.  I just have a place to not be silent.
Thank you, my blog friends, for keeping me company in my little place here.