Forgetful Little Girl

Forgetful Little Girl

He grips me hard and my stomach is knotted in a ball of erotic tension as my body awaited his.

I become lost in a heightened state as he roughly moved me over his knees, trapping my legs between His and lifting my hips up to ensure my ass was at the optimum height for his hands to find that sweet spot.

My mind prepared itself for what was to come…I breathed deeply yet raggedly and look down at my hands which were perfectly spaced out in front of me.  As his hands began to stroke and warm up my bare skin my breathing calmed for a moment as I enjoyed the pleasure of his skin on mine, before his hand lifted away and the first smack ricocheted off my warm, firm behind.  The first is always sweet…the skin not yet sensitive ensuring that the full slap is felt as a warm erotic shock, the sensation of which ripples out beautifully across the nearest nerve endings.

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The second and third feel the same…the forth and fifth starting to feel a little more deeply as the spanks get harder each time…beyond that I find myself already getting lost in the growing pain.  My mind concentrates solely on that one area of my body as though under a microscope of sensation; the feeling of heat and discomfort starting to build quicker and quicker as I will my mind to lead me to the edge of the abyss.  Slowly but surely my mind carries me forward as the rain of spanking ploughs on on my now painful red cheeks.  One to the other, over and over…and just as I am about to blissfully fall head first into the shock of heaven he withdraws his hand, strokes once the reddened soreness before moving his hand down to my thighs…


Oh the stinging bliss of punishment as the slaps begin once again on the tender sensitive smooth skin below my now throbbing cheeks.  Unable to so easily lose the element of pain over this thin skin, I stay right in the moment as his hand continues its squeal inducing onslaught and as i wriggle and writhe, I find I am no longer able to control my body as it fights against it’s longed for attack.  His leg holds mine together tighter still, and his free arm grips around my waist rendering me unable to move.  The sting of every swipe burns and burns and burns….and then I am flying.  I’m lost in my adrenalin…the shock of the pain has finally carried my mind beyond reality and the present moment.  I free fall in my paradise of muted pleasure…each smack reverbarating around my very soul.  And then all too soon it desists….I lay there unable to move, unable to think, unable to do anything but breathe shallowly, my eyes flickering open and then closed.  I moan slightly in disappointment as his hands begin their cool down of my heated, deliciously burning skin.  There’s a final slap on my ass cheek for my demanding groan and then the very hands which had been breathing pain through my body just moments before began to force deeply into me, into my hot swollen pussy which, in the joy of the spanking, had gone unnoticed.  All at once I was fully aware of the deep internal need in me…a thick, heavy desire to be fucked hard and used so my mind can shut down once more, allowing my body to simply feel feel feel as my boundaries are pushed to their very limits.

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His fingers find me and move as I need them to, well rehearsed movements which get me every time.  Now my moans are no longer from disappointment from the loss of the spanks, but from the building unstoppable need in me….I’m coming before I know it and before I can ask for permission.  Gutteral waves of gentle treacel-like moans flow from deep within me as I speak a languge that even I cannot comprehend.  His quietly spoken sentiments, “Good girl coming hard for me…good little girl” push me on and on until I am all out of energy.  I quietly moan a little and enjoy the final wash of pleasure as I find myself dipping in and out of consciousness before he lifts my hips and stands up from under me.  I lay there vaguely aware of his undressing by my side…slowly and purposefully revealing each gorgeous limb and inch of skin making my breathing harden once again as I prepare for the next game we will be playing.

His beautiful cock is released last…my heavy eyes grow heavier still with lust and I lift my head slowly and open my mouth wide – his favourite invitation.  He sweeps the hair from around my face and grips it back hard in his hand and lifts my head up a little until I am perfectly positioned to take him all in which I willingly and obligingly do.  He slides me down the legnth of him until he hits the back of my throat, forcing me to attempt to open up a little more to stop the gag reflex from kicking in but too late, as I gag hard and my eyes start to water hard – he pulls himself from my mouth and looks down at my swimming eyes as I open up once more to welcome him back in.  As he continues to fuck my warm wet mouth, I fight the urge to gag again knowing that as much as he loves it, he needs pleasure so I distract myself by sucking hard as he pushes in and out, over and over.


As my now running eyes look up to him, he catches my gaze intensely just for a moment and pulls my head back hard, releasing my aching jaw from its task, and begins to re position me using only my ponytail as a reign.  I find myself on my knees, facing away from him, forehead pushed into the mattress, ass thrust up high – the still reddened skin sore from the stretch created from this position.  I feel his thumb push into my cunt just once to release my hot wetness and ensure I am ready to enable the finale of this show….and then at last his cock fills me up completely.  He pushes into the hilt, remains there as we both sink into the bliss of it, before pulling out fast and thrusting back in hard.


My body jolts as I release animalistic moans of base pleasure. His hands wrap around my throat and he pulls me back up so I am now rested up on my hands as he continues on harder and faster whilst i am subconsciously begging for more.  The tightening on my neck spins me out further and further and I am quickly building my pace; I can feel my insides beginning to throb and clench as orgasm draws near.  I realise I must get my request for permission out before it is once again too late and so I cry out as best as I can with his hands around me, and barely in time: “Please Sir, Please…” and despite his orgasm being only seconds behind my own, he replies in his usual controlled, disciplinarian manner, “Yes little one” and so I begin my rise.  My cries growing as the pleasure heightens, my breathing out of control and my requests for more and to be fucked harder all totally lost to me.  As he comes in to me, his swollen thickening cock fills me further still until I am all but blacking out from the swimming darkness behind my eyes…pleasure pleasure pleasure….swirling all encompassing swathes of it fill me as he does, and then it begins its retreat and i am left collapsed on the bed; my body hot, wet and satisfied by his.

He leaves me to recover with the simple but deadly line: “Well done little one, you’ve been a good girl – but next time you forget to ask for permision before every orgasm you will be sorry.”

My Heartfelt Apologies…

My Heartfelt Apologies…

….for my absence.  What a bad girl I am!

Life had been shooting by and writing has fallen by the wayside, but not for long.

The Stranger needs an ending, my filthy thoughts need to be brought to life and my unrequited submissive tendencies need an outlet, so new material is not far behind.

I am currently building and fine tuning my blog into a book, The Life & Fantasies Of A Submissive which I am so excited about.  In the mean time, if you wish to know more about me, want to discover my new blogs before anyone else or else you just love beautiful submissive images as much as I do then I have created a new Facebook page Life & Fantasies Of A Submissive to house all of these things and so much more. Join me.

Or else, come chat with me on Twitter @truesub.

For the submissives: I give great advice, can be a shoulder to lean on and an ear to listen.

For the Dom’s? I may even write some lines for you!  ;)

Thank you so much for following the True Diary of A Submissive. It’s a pleasure to have you on board.

Say Hi in the comment below….I would love to have a chat

TrueSub x


The Stranger & I Continued

The Stranger & I Continued

The evening he requested to meet with me was a dark, dirty night with merciless rain thrashing down upon my flimsy umbrella – it could barely withstand the beating it was taking from the heavens.  Looking back perhaps it was a sign, an omen, not to go forward into this new reality, but I couldn’t have known and if I had had that time again, I’d have done it just the same.

We met in a quiet little bar down a side street.  The smell of old wood warmed over the years by the open fire, and the scent of the delicious red wine he handed me on my arrival was enough to help me relax into our night together.  By 11pm we had discussed history, family, friends, careers, childhood, life’s highs and lows…in fact, more than I had ever got through with one person on a first date.  I felt so comfortable with him, so at ease…so safe!  Like I could tell him anything and it would all be ok.  He seemed too good to be true. 

Because of this I found myself in a taxi going back to his – something I would never usually do for fear of getting hurt once the morning comes and with it an empty bed or a swift exit from theirs with broken promises to call.  But somehow this felt right. More than right, it was the only option – I never wanted this night to end and this was a good enough way to ensure it didn’t finish just yet!

His home was, as expected: chic, white, open plan, minimal, but mixed with beautiful older elements such as the bookcase and fireplaces all of which were made out of heavy dark wood.  The doors were made of solid oak, each of which were about three inches thick and made a very satisfying thud when closing.  I couldn’t have pictured him living anywhere else but this contradiction of old and new, bright and dark, closed and open.  There was something about him….something different. Something which he hadn’t told me yet and something which scared me just a little – but crazily, that fear only heightened my sense of longing for him. 

Before too long I found myself underneath him, sinking deep into his plush sofa, surrounded by cushions and feeling utterly lost to all sense – his kisses on my lips and neck and collar bone tingled. My body felt as though it were awakening from a long sleep.  His hand under my head and the one on my waist held me in place and I felt myself relax further into his desire.  I moaned as his grip on me tightened and his hands moved to my breasts which were desperate for release. He did not disappoint – I sat up to allow my top over my head and his adept fingers to flick the catch of my bra open. I flung it to the ground.  At this point he stopped momentarily to take in the sight of me half naked, out of breath, a tangle of hair and rosy cheeks…I knew I must look wanton, and I was. 

His hand reached to hold my cheek tenderly, just for a split second, before he reached around and took a handful of my hair.  I felt the pressure from his hand as he tugged me back down onto the sofa…I felt my body react to this physical power he had over me.  I knew I had already been wet, but this new element of sheer dominance took me to another level and that is when it his me.  He was Dominant.  I had heard of these men, read of them, fantastised about them even, but had never met one. And now here I was, naked with one of them; one of the sexiest men I had ever seen, who had held my gaze so firmly the first time we had caught eyes, who had rushed to my aid when I had fallen and made me assure him that I would be careful in future.  I had wondered why this stranger had cared – and now I realised why.  Something in me was answering his need to dominate, to nurture, to take care of, to punish?

His kisses were growing in intensity.  My body bucked against his with a mind of its own.  His hand in my hair pulled my head back uncomfortably so, so that he could kiss my neck and throat.  His teeth grazed my skin and suddenly his mouth was on my breasts – sucking and kissing and biting…the pleasure and pain mix was too much.  As his tongue swept again and again over my taut, puckered nipples I could, unbelievably, feel an orgasm building.  With my hair still in his tight grip, my head was still pulled back, so my hands did the job of willing his tongue to go on with their sweet torture by holding his head, gripping his hair – anything I could do to make him stay. I was entirely vulnerable, completely unable to move from this position even if I had wanted to, but my one freedom, my hands, were going to do all they could to ensure that whatever he was doing did not stop. 

As his free hand took the job of one nipple whilst his tongue continue its merciless reign on the other, I was flying.  The inability to move whilst simultaneously being given a brand new and devastatingly intense form of pleasure was almost more than I could bear and in my mind, I was soaring.  As my orgasm mounted from his ceaseless mouth and fingers, my mind rushed this way and that, and suddenly…without warning, it silenced.  I was aware of nothing except my orgasm which tore through me like a bullet.  It zigzagged itself through me from the center of the pleasure in my nipples down to my clit, my pussy, my legs went weak, my back bent further from its already unnaturally arched position – the only thing still working were my hands which gripped and released his hair uncontrollably.  I moaned, and I writhed and the bliss rode on with me for what felt, in hindsight, like hours. 

As the pleasure subsided, my body was spent.  Even my hands gave up their bid for independence and I collapsed as he sat back.  I lay there, a gentle smile playing on my exhausted face.  I opened my eyes to find his boring into me…they were so dark.  Suddenly that little touch of fear I had been playing with in my mind came flooding back as fight or flight senses bristled within me.  At once, I saw his hand move toward my face…I panicked…and then he lay it gently on my cheek.  His thumb, stroked me over and over again.  I relaxed back down and naturally closed my eyes, the effects of the intense orgasm drifting me into sleep. 

And then he spoke.

“I want to make you mine.”








The Stranger and I

The Stranger and I

He caught my eye across the train station coffee shop – he didn’t smile, in fact he gave nothing away. For the life of me I thought I must have done something to upset him in some way despite the fact I had never seen him before.  But I held his gaze because it felt as though there was no where my eyes would rather be looking, at that moment.  There was something in that electric look which had hidden meaning – but what?  And then he looked down again, back to his paper, as though nothing has happened.  I stared at him for moments longer trying to will those long lashes to flick back up and for his eyes to catch me in their stare once again, but no.  I looked away.  I felt shaken for some reason. As though angry words had been said, as though there were some unexpressed emotions between this stranger and I.  But yet, there was nothing. Nothing between us. No history, nor present or future. Just some inexplicable angst.

At that moment he got up from seat, newspaper now folded neatly under his arm, suit fitted and smoothed to perfection.  He did not look at me again.  He left and I remained staring after him, mouth open slightly in unspoken shock.

The next morning I headed back toward the coffee shop.  I must admit, this was not my usual, but yesterday my regular spot had been so busy i had headed to this one despite it being a little further to walk for my train platform.  Today I found my feet subconsciously taking the extra walk in the hope of seeing this mysterious stranger once again.  What it was which drew me in was still unresolved in my head, but something pulled me there.  My heart began pounding hard when I caught sight of the back of his head through the window as he sat in the same spot as the previous day.  His hair was perfectly slick and sleek, not a strand out of place, just as it had been the first time i had seen him.  A different suit fit to his body today; a navy blue with a subtle grey pinstripe.  He was like an out of place fantasy.  As i walked in I saw him smile at the pretty young barista as she walked by with a tray piled high with used mugs.  My heart flipped in my chest…what on earth was happening to me? Was that jealousy I felt? Jealously that he smiled at her but yet I got nothing more than a dark, blank stare?  He was nothing to me nor I to him so why should he smile at me?  I was nothing really compared to him.  I had my charms but compared to him…well…I was more than punching above my weight.  ‘So why then’, my subconscious queried, ‘had he stared at me so intently?’  I still didn’t know but as I took further steps in to the coffee shop I happily noted him notice me… at which point I slipped on a wet spot on the floor.  The young barista came hurrying over with a paper towel, clearly that wet patch had been her next job, but it was a little too late for me and my ego.

My stranger was out of his seat and at my side with a hand reaching down to assist me in my clamber back up before I had barely hit the ground.  I took his warm smooth hand gratefully as my cheeks burned, and he lift me to my feet.  I could barely look at him.  He was taller than i had expected, even in my three inch stilettos, and having to turn my face up to meet his eyes, those dark, brooding, angry eyes, seemed more than my ego could bare.

“Hey”, he said, “Look at me…”, so I did.  He didn’t disappoint.  The eyes were darker than I had noticed the day before, but this time they were filled with concern and worry – for me!  His voice curled around me like cream, I could have bathed in it – so thick and warm. I felt instantly at ease looking up at him, my face turned up, my neck bent back.  The barista was babbling on with her apologies and requests to get me a free drink but as we looked at one another, I felt as though she must be a million miles away, or else he and I were.

He didn’t take his eyes from mine for what felt an eternity, and before long, that worry I had seen in them was replaced with something else.  Something darker.  He spoke once again: “You need to be more careful, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.  Do you understand?”.

I nodded mutely not fully understanding why I was being spoken to in this way by a stranger, albeit a handsome, all consuming stranger whose voice and eyes sent me spinning in to oblivion.  ‘Why did he care if I hurt myself?’ I heard my mind quietly ask.

“Can I get you a coffee?” he asked.  And so, the tale of the stranger and I began.


To be continued…





A Night of Unexpected Pleasure

A Night of Unexpected Pleasure

(A musical post – click on the each title to read that section with the relevant piece of music.

The original inspiration for this blog came from this incredible electro/dubstep/classical creation – The Allegretto From Symphony 7)


I felt him prowl around me as though I were a captured animal which had lost its way through a panther’s territory.  My skin prickled – my mind screamed at me to beg for forgiveness and my freedom – but my nipples pushing against the thin material of my dress as my breath escaped me in short sharp lustful pants kept me stood in place.  My eyes remained angled towards the floor as had been instructed as he had placed the blindfold over me.

Allegretto from Beethoven’s Symphony no.7

Suddenly music surrounded and captured me.  Beautiful music which held me in its grip as much as the binds holding my elbows up and together behind my back were.  I was scared but so enraptured by him and this…whatever this was.  A sensory overload.  A warm, sensuous otherworldly experience and one which i had never expected as I started my night.

The music started out so peacefully.  The volume seemed shocking still but nothing compared to how it progressed.  Before long the soaring strings filled me further still and I felt as though my mind could take no more…I was beyond over stimulated.  And he had not even touched me yet.

I had no idea what to expect having only just met this man mere hours before.  He had told me during our three hour conversation which took our attention from anything going on in the bar surrounding us, that he enjoyed creating the unknown.  Building situations, scenes, which would overwhelm and be the most tantalising, sensual experience.  I was beyond enthralled by his words.

The music built once again…my mind was lost, my body was overawed with all it was experiencing despite him not having laid one finger on me.  I was creating all this in my own head, but sometimes that is the most powerful weapon we can use to shock and awe another.  I felt myself slumping forward and fell in to him, my head rested on his shoulder.  His hands ran up my back from the base of my spine, the shock of electricity as they moved from cotton dress to bare skin made me gasp, and up to my neck where they rested, one hand cupping the other, both hands now holding my neck in place.  His thumbs moved around lifting and holding my jaw straight toward him and I could feel his breath wash over me warmly his face mere millimetres away from mine.


Moonlight Sonata

Was he going to kiss me? No, instead he held me there.  As the music changed to a quieter yet somehow darker piece I felt myself yield to him. I had no where to go, no reason to leave, no requirement to feel ill at ease for even if I did, would he let me free? Unlikely…this was his game.  I let go of my ideas of my imperfections – he was so close to me, and with only a thin layer of summer cotton to protect me, what would it matter that I hate my thighs? That my breasts aren’t the perfect peaks they once were?  I could sense him eying me hungrily, this man with whom I could have talked all night, was wantonly longing for me in all my glory.  At that moment I felt my mind release.  My head rested entirely into his hands, I felt him re-adjust his thumbs a little to incorporate the extra pressure…I felt my body wash over with relaxation as the message from my brain told it that this was good.

Fantasia On A Theme – Ralph V. Williams

He had me now. I was his – i felt it in myself.  I would take and do anything required of me. I knew this would be intense, but with no basis of what to expect, the newness of these emotional and mental sensations mixed with the music made my eyes fill behind the blindfold.  I felt so vulnerable, so exposed and so naive…I felt childlike again, but mixed with the heady sense of lust and need and desire which swirled around us, I had never felt more powerful or alive either.  It was a contradiction beyond my understanding but I knew that it was not for me to understand – certainly not right now anyway.

I felt his right hand move away from my neck whilst the left stayed in place holding me where he wished for me to be.  The music escalated into a beautiful mind blowing crecsendo as I felt the zip which went from top to bottom of the front of my dress began to move.  The sensations of the cool metal, the material and his skin brushing my body as the zip gave way to him made me gasp, the sound of which was lost in the violin now playing around us.  My breath which had been slowing thankfully down began to quicken once again as the prospect of what was next began to swirl in my mind.  As the zip yielded entirely I felt the dress fall open and enjoyed the gentlest of caresses it gave my thighs just where the hem fell upon them.  He left the thin straps over my shoulders which were still pushed forcefully back by the rope tied around my forearms – the pressure of which was just starting to creep over me and make me aware of some level of physical discomfort beyond that of my initial mental anguish.

The hand which had unzipped me then gently traced my side from hairline, down my cheek to my jawline, down my neck (which made my body tingle deliciously and painfully), over my collarbone, brushing past my right breast with the softest of touches before sweeping over my stomach to my hip and ending upon on backside.  Any embarrassment I may have felt with previous lovers under the hard gaze of such minute attention was utterly lost on me and I revelled in his touch and the gaze which no doubt followed it. This moment was my decent in to submission and my rise to perfection.  I felt goddess like, and with no way to check otherwise, what with my sight being hindered, who was I to contradict myself?  My mind felt I was a goddess…so be it.


Claire De Lune

He pulled me into him by the hand grasping the right cheek of my backside.  I felt his lips brush mine as we neared and electricity shot through my body straight to my sex which I now realised was throbbing, desperate for attention after this long, sensual build up, all of which had used very little in the form of touch.   The brush of his mouth was over in just the briefest moment and I felt a pressure from his hand on the back of my neck which felt like a command to move – a change of direction was happening and I could do nothing but follow his silent demands. I had not seen the room as he had tied and blindfolded me in the room outside of this one.  I had no sense of direction or sense of scale; I had no understanding of where I was or what was happening, but I was just utterly aware of the all consuming music which now played a stunning, lilting piano piece which calmed and carried me and willed me to go on and experience what was to come.

Canon – Johann Pachelbel 

He was now stood beside me and the pressure on my neck was gently pushing me towards… something.  He stopped me with a short tightening of his thumb and fingers before the pressure resumed and led me to bend forwards over…well…something.  It felt hard, not cold as such, perhaps a polished wooden table? Or side board? Then I noted that the object was long enough for me to lean over from hip to head… so it was long, but I felt there was no edge beyond my breasts so as the pressure of my leaning on them built they pushed out a little and on to nothing – so the item was long and thin.  I had read of these items…I thought they were used only in dungeons in fetish clubs.  Clearly not.  I felt him fold my dress up to neck so my back was entirely bare. The next sensation I had was of something metal clasping around my waist. The cold was a bitter pill to take after the gentleness and warmth I had experienced so far and again I gasped, only this time in shock and I felt my eye brows and forehead crease in mild annoyance.  The short, sharp spank he inflicted upon me for this brief expression made the breath fly out of my lungs.  What on earth was going on?  My mind felt once again all at sea…totally confused about what was going on.  I tried to sit back up in shock, suddenly aware of how vulnerable I was to another of those smacks the longer I remained in this position.  But by this point the harness had encircled my waist and I had no where to go.

The music soared around me.  I felt giddy but still so very turned on.  The spread of warmth which had swiftly followed the shortness of the pain made me somehow wish for more.  It felt…good?  Could it feel good to have a near stranger spanking ones’ behind for feeling annoyed?  I had little time to think about it, or about whether I actually wanted more because the next thing I felt was a warm palm tracing down from lower back to the crook of my knee.  The thighs I hated so much suddenly the object of such desire.  I felt his left hand place itself on my lower back as the right hand continued its journey over my right thigh and ass cheek.  He began to focus a circular motion over my cheek before suddenly a shot of pain sliced through the very spot that warm hand had just been caressing.  5 short spanks followed before three soothing circles with the palm before 5 more spanks.  He followed this pattern for longer than I cared for, and before long my untrained skin felt so sore under his hand that I felt bile rising in my throat.  It was too much. I tried desperately to tell him, but the violins and beauty of the music washing over us mixed with this new, incredible, sensual situation and the pain I was experiencing made my mind blank – it could not work out quite how to form the words required to make him stop…and that was when I felt it.  A new level in my mind slowly dawning on me.  I felt as though I had somehow drowned and awoken into a new world…my physical body felt as heavy and as light as lead and feather at once – I was floating and sinking as one and was not even a little bit afraid. I felt freer than I had ever done.  My mind ceased to think.  Worries disappeared – I was all consumed by whatever this incredible sensation was.  The pain which mere seconds before had been too much to bear, hardly registered.  In fact, each strike was a bliss which I wished more of.  I felt everything and nothing, and whilst each hit reminded me of where I was it simultaneously pushed me further out in to what I can only describe as space.  I felt utterly and completely high.

The final crescendo of the music signalled his attention on my right cheek coming to a close.  As the silence briefly ensued I heard his breath coming hard and fast from his lungs, pushed out, by the exertion of his efforts? Or by the sheer sexual pleasure doing this to me was causing him? I had no idea, nor did I particularly care. I just wanted more.

String Symphony No. 4, Andante – Felix Mendelssohn

As he stood himself upright, I lay there trapped in my blissful state.  I could have stayed there forever.  His attentions on to the left cheek alerted me to a shift in situation though and suddenly I recalled what I had had to endure before this peace had taken over.  But since I was already so within my submissive space, the pain of the left cheek was somehow gentler.  Even the final pre sub-space spanks which before had been such agony, were less unpleasant.  This time though the fall was gentler.  It was less of a shock and I floated there in that beautiful place with the strings consuming my mind and the pain raining down whilst I felt nothing but pleasure and bliss.

Before too soon the music was drawing to a close and his spanking ceased.  I was left there for moments to revel in my blissed out state I can only assume, or else for him to take a moment to gather himself.  I could again only guess at what was to come next. I wasn’t sure how long he had been spanking me, nor did I know how long it had been since we had arrived.  I did know that my arms were now starting to ache like mad as the mental high dispersed gently and the pain from the seemingly endless spanking began to creep in.  I suddenly felt something warm pour over my ass cheeks…an oil perhaps and never have I felt something more soothing.  My skin was so grateful as his hands smoothed it over their burning heat.

out the dark_4b891a62b92f9

Antonia Vivaldi – Winter

The next sensation was of the bindings being untied from my arms. The aching in my shoulders was too much to bear as they dropped suddenly, my hands falling to my side and now hanging limply.  The blood rushed back to them and I was quickly aware of all these aches and pains throughout my body and I started to wonder, as my high had now all but left me with only a residual calm ness left to speak of, why I was allowing myself to go through this.


Then I was reminded.  He was back – his nails raked down my back from shoulders to the base of my spine. My body fizzled in reaction to the hard sensation after the gentleness of sub space.  His hands grabbed at my ass cheeks, hard almost twisting the skin, letting them go before spanking a little, then grabbing again and scratching over the welts which must have developed due to the scorching pain I felt as his nails pulled over them.  He has turned animalistic – no more gentle touches or controlled spanking…he was pawing at me, wanting me; before his fingers delved inside me making me cry out with surprise and pleasure.  His experienced fingers hit my previously elusive g spot that i had only stumbled upon on a handful of accidental occasions before.  He worked over those nerve endings until i was trembling and my body was convulsing uncontrollably, releasing all that energy and pressure and tension he had built up since the moment he had placed my arms in those bindings.  Yes my mental tension had been released, in fact my 28 years of mental tension felt like it had been released in that one visit to my submissive headspace, but my physical tension? That was still very much there, vibrating and bubbling away desperate for release – and I got it more than I had ever hoped for or ever experienced before.  It was like nothing I had felt in my life – these waves of pleasure pounding over me, time after time. My body convulsed and pushed against its metal jailer which still ran around my waist.  His fingers pushed on until I had no energy left in me and as the orgasm of my life faded away I was left relieved beyond belief.  He had cleared away mental and physical cobwebs I didn’t even realise existed within me!  I felt like a new woman.


And now it was his turn. The sexual tension must have been as rife within him as it had been in me, and as his long hard cock pushed deep inside me, his hands griping my waist hard, my body found it’s voice at last and I cried out – long, and guttural and animal-like.  I was wild and alive and his desperate thrusts pushed me on and on.  Energy built up within me once again, pleasure grew and swirled within my body.  Over the crescendo of the music all I could now hear was my own cries and heavy breath, but his orgasm was undeniable as his voice carried over the strings and filled me with a new sensual pride and my orgasm followed swift suit.  He pushed hard into me one…two…three times, forcefully and without apology.  As his climax came to a close, I rode my own wave for as long as he would allow me.  He pulled out of me and I felt his warm, fresh cum dribble a little down my leg…somehow nothing had felt as sexy in my entire life.  I felt darkly, sensually filthy.  Erotic, sexy, alive…

He undid the metal keeper at my waist and as the music came to an end I heard him walk out the room.  I dressed quietly and slipped out feeling more incredible than I ever thought possible.

My night of unexpected pleasure had changed my lie forever.

Master/Slave Fantasy: Six Months of Sweet Torture

Master/Slave Fantasy: Six Months of Sweet Torture

It has been six months service.

Six months of doing his every bidding.  My new role has shown up strengths and weaknesses in me that previous roles have not.  I have learnt so much, from Him, from being His, from the silence and peace which layer over me as I do what is required to make His life smooth, easy and exactly as He expects it.

It has been six incredible months of looking after and pre-empting his every wish and whim.  I have my protocols – the things I am required to do and our rituals – the things we love to do.  Whilst he can be cold and hard at times, especially when He flogs me when it is deserved, He can be gentle and kind to me.  He allows me time at His feet on evenings when it is deserved – he will stroke my hair.  He never tells me I have done well as this I understand is not my place, but I know in these moments that I am needed and that is all the thanks I will ever need.  These rare moments when I am allowed to touch Him, outside of our sexual exploits, such as these quiet moments of meditation on my knees, hands clasping His ankles is the real gift He bestows upon me.

Part of my initiation into His service has been a real bittersweet pill to take.  Whilst He allows me to suck His cock as and when He requires it, which is always a guilty treat for me, and He spanks, flogs, canes, binds and whips me, sometimes when it is deserved, sometimes because He has had a bad day, I am never allowed to orgasm.  He never fucks me, He never touches me in an intimate way.

If I had orgasmed, even once, then my services would have been rendered unneeded for one week.  One week to lie where I sleep outside His bedroom door in the alcove which I call bed.  Collar on, leashed to the floor.  I would remain in the child pose like that for 24 hours a day, for 7 days with only three requested bathroom breaks a day, one opportunity to hygiene each morning and three small meals a day to cover the food groups and ensure I keep my health up.

This concept of such restriction – restriction which even I feel would be unbearable – was nothing compared to the possibility of being unneeded by this man I have come to see as my everything.  As slave I should not feel pleasure as such but the satisfaction and fulfilment I get from being in His service means I steal myself each day against wanting to count my blessings, from smiling and sighing contentedly.  I am not here to be content, I am here to serve Him.

So with the fear of disservice hovering over my head each time we enter his bedroom, I have managed to hold back from the point of orgasm for six long months.  The pain and frustration period of this was the hardest.  The fact that I was used previously for sex meant that I was never without and although on occasion the sex would be hard, it was an everyday occurance which I got used to having.  It became second nature and so, to suddenly find myself in the service of a man who got his requirements fulfilled by other submissive women, sometimes in His home whilst I lay outside in my alcove listening to her moans of pleasure and pain and my Master telling her the things I so longed to hear, I was in utter despair.  The times He would request me to enter his room and touch myself whilst  watching as He fucks his submissives are the hardest.  I know He is not mine and the jealousy is fading with time.  I know I have my place in His life, one that these other women do not fulfil, but I simply find great sexual pleasure in merely watching Him and being around Him.  He is strong and powerful and His presence alone can make me wet.  So watching that powerful Dominance overcoming a bound female is sometimes too much to bear.  He does it to test me – I know it.  I am on the brink from mere seconds into his sessions with these woman.  Sometimes they are bound on their backs with their legs spread wide and open, wrists to  thigh.  Other times he hoists their arms up high so their breasts are pushed out for His hungry beautiful mouth to suckle on before he spanks and flogs them to tears.  Watching these women coming uncontrollably in His hands is incredible – something I feel blessed to be allowed to witness – their usually quiet eyes enflamed with desire and agony.  They beg Him to stop and continue in one breathe – He silences them with a gag, or revels in their begging as He uses it to pull Him further into his Dominant Masterful mind.

As I kneel there up on my heels, knees apart, fingers working over my desire soaked sex, I have to concentrate very hard not to tumble over the edge.  By this point, my need to climax is agony and it takes the near superhuman strength of a submissive woman who wishes not to disappoint her Master to channel that energy elsewhere.  He sees if I slow down my pace – His tests on me are cruel but so be it.  He forces my fingers on, and I have to delve inside myself when I feel the sparkling, tightening, blissful agony of release pushing nearer.  I have to occasionally avert my eyes from His hard cock pushing deep into His submissive’s ass as she animalistically cries out in a bliss only afforded to the luckiest of subs.

The tension rises and rises, I pray for it to be over.  His heavy breath as He falls steadily into His perfectly controlled and utterly divine orgasm sends my pulse rocketing every time.  My heart races until I think it will burst from my chest.  My breathing as I watch His eyes clench as His thrusts become long and hard and painful to His now depleted sub shakes my entire being and my throat dries up.

The mere second He is completed He looks to me.  He see’s my distress and knowing I have done my duty of not coming orders me to leave and return to my alcove to think on what I have witnessed.  I know He is training me.  It feels good and it feels so despicable all at once.

Occasionally the concept that He may never allow me release explodes through my mind and I whimper.  Only once this has occurred whilst He was near by and the look He shot me let me know I was in disgrace.  I was flogged bitterly that night.  I did not whimper again.

And now it has been 6 months.  I am beyond the physical requirement of an orgasm. I have moved into a near spiritual state to get over the fact that my body has this incredible pent up energy flowing through it.  Sometimes it screams and begs me to let it out. Other times it transports me to a higher plain of understanding and my submission to my Master is deepened by this internal gift He has lovingly given me.


He has called me to sexual service tonight.  He requests, as ever, that I am naked.  Hair scraped back into a low slung ponytail as requested.  I bend at 90 degrees over the side of his huge dark wood sleigh bed, elbow to hands on the mattress, shoulder width apart, as usual.  Head lowered, eyes open and looking directly at my hands as normal.  My legs are set at just over hip width to allow me some stability whilst he does whatever He requires of me.  I see the belt laid out.  Hard and wide, long and thick.  But that is all – usually He uses at least three or four different types of implement to allow me the full extent of pain and develop my ability to take more each time.  This is useful to Him for when His day is hard and He needs the full de-stress.  For this He often calls upon two or more submissives to take the full brunt, but His training of me to take it all eventually is one of the small accolades I allow myself pride in.

But why then is there only the simple belt? He knows I can take this well.  As I quietly recall our last session with the belt I feel myself become slick. I feel the swell of blood in my veins as I think back on the sounds and sensations as the leather beat against my skin – the burning, piercing whip of hard against soft and the resounding sense of falling into bliss in the moments between change over to another implement.  I sense my pupils dilating hard, the pulse in my throat quickens, the tightness of sexual tension which is always there and has become a part of my daily exsistance becomes painful.

It has been too long.

I hear Him enter the room.  My pulse doubles again.  He walks around me and inspects my position.  The arch of my long back just right.  The curve of my backside pushed out as He requires. My pussy and ass displayed proudly for whatever He wishes to do with them – which is nothing.  I am not here for sex.  I am here for punishment.  My legs dead straight.  My fingers long and together.  I see Him out of my peripheries walk behind me and assume, as normal, He is walking to position Himself for an initial spanking.


Instead, He sinks two long slim fingers deep into my aching, soaking, desperate cunt and hits my g-spot with ease.

I scream as I convulse instantly around Him.  He pushes His thumb into my ass up to the hilt and grips my hair back hard.

I fall and keep falling.  Six months of bitter, hot, delicious, agony.

I breathe deep for the first time in a long long time.


His Creation and Destruction…

His Creation and Destruction…

As he watched I found myself becoming wetter with His desire.  My desire. The intoxicating mixture of him and me…that chemistry…that spark….that perfection.  I was his plaything tonight.  I was his performance piece…his theatre…his art.  He was the author, the playwright, the artist. I was his creation.

As I knelt up on my knees, my ass thrust back to him sharply, my fingers working progressively faster and firmer over my hard swollen clit I could hear him laugh with joy.  His work of art come to life, if you will.  As a joy filled theatre goer smiles and gloats with delight at the beauty being played out in front of his eyes on stage, so too, did my Sir’s spirits lift as he watched me perform for him to his exact specification – the act written entirely to his need – his hearts desire being created. 

I could feel my orgasm rising up to meet my needy fingers.  The glass dildo by my side calling me to help tip me over balance.  I knew where I wanted it, I knew how I wanted it….but would he let me or was this instrument of pleasure left there to taunt me? I had been awaiting his instruction for its use for near enough half an hour now…trying to hold off my climax until his say-so.  His eyes boring into me made my ability come oh so easy and so so sweet.  With his mind only on me as I play for his delight, the grip of orgasm appears and takes me over almost instantly.  

“Now” he commanded from behind me.  My hand was on it before his word was spoken…I thrust the cool glass shaft of the plaything into me to allow it take on the smooth slipperiness I knew I held within me, on me, dripping down me….before moving it backwards toward where it was needed most.  I think even he was surprised…he had never seen me in this state before.  So desperate to fulfil myself…usually this was done by him.  But without him, my own animal instincts over took and I quite forgot he was even there…but for his heavy, wanton breathing which served as nothing but a beautiful, melodic score to my over powering one act monologue – it merely further fuelled my passion and carried me ever forward toward my final climactic scene.  

As the head of the dildo push against me, to a place where only He may enter, I felt the surge of pleasure wash over in a heady wave…the exaggeration wideness of the head pushed me open and I gasped as I sunk down its length.  The coolness soothing my heat, the hardness pinning me to it…the fingers on my clit felt as though they were on fire as I pushed myself down its length and back up to it’s head..once again opening myself up and feeling the pressure…pleasure and pain…before once again forcing myself back down.  I could feel the glass cock deep within my body and the idea of this, coupled with my frenzied fingers and his fervent gaze built a pleasure which was utterly unstoppable.  I pushed my body up and down hard and fast, holding the end of the dildo to the bed allowing me full penetration…not a milimetre lost to a misplaced movement.  

He could sense I was more than on the edge…how could he not.  My moaning was that of a desperate woman…I was fighting the orgasm all the while my body ploughed on doing its very own act quite without my permission.   Were I real actor I would be fired for ignoring the directors instructions…but He knew…He knew I would not disobey knowingly and that the only thing to be done at this moment was to reward my efforts to holdback as opposed to allow it to continue and have to punish my disobedience.  Sweat dripping from the effort of fucking, of withholding and from my pre-orgasm; my breath hard and alive in my lungs…my heart pounding, no need for the orchestra…between us we were the entire soundtrack to this piece. And then his final words were spoken:

“Good girl…you have had enough…you may come”.