serijules
just seri
- Joined
- Sep 19, 2002
- Posts
- 1,941
as promised, here is another journal entry from my visit with Ma'am...
* * *
Today's topic is serving. And shaving. I'll get to the shaving part in a bit.
I told Ma'am what I all wanted to write about yet, and one of them was this certain form of service she asked of me during my visit. She asked today if it would be a horny slut diaries post and I said no...no it wouldn't be. And it isn't. Which in and of itself is confusing to me. So let's explore that a bit...
Ma'am has used me for her sexual pleasure now and then. It isn't something that happens very often, although I am still required to research and keep myself informed on various ways of pleasing women, despite them not being called to use often at all. I used to daydream about her fucking me with a strapon, or shoving me between her legs to pleasure her. These daydreams would turn me on so much and I would spend hours fantasizing about it. However, the fantasies were full of reasons and desires for this because they turned ME on and it was a source of desire for myself. I love the smell and taste and texture of womanly parts.
However, more and more I am loosing sight of my sexuality. It started with the orgasm denials. That too at first was something that turned me on and was fueled largely by my own desires. It has over the years and over the longer periods of denial become something that I desire for much deeper and more emotional reasons rather than the physical ones my body reacted to. My body still reacts, mind you. I'm no prude. Yet emotionally I am in such a drastically different place regarding my sexuality. More accurately...HER sexuality. It just no longer feels like my own. I don't even daydream of being with women anymore. The longing is still intact, the love and appreciation of womanly bodies. I still flow as wet as a faucet when used and fucked and displayed. It's just the switch that has been rewired in a very big way.
Every single touch, orgasm, pleasure even fantasy...belongs to her. Every hole. I may never have sex again if she chooses that for me. I may never taste the sweet musk on my tongue or feel a hard cock up my ass or shoved down my throat. And I am perfectly content with that, as long as it pleases her to deny it to me. The past two years of being trained and molded to put her needs and her desires and her pleasure before my own has taken on a life of its own to the point where emotionally I don't even focus on my own desires unless she flips that switch that permits them to surface and entertain her, please her, be of use to her.
This fact crashed home for me one of our nights alone together. She informed me it was time to shave her, undressed, spread out on the bed on top of a towel and picked up the remote. I was terrified at first, which strikes me as rather amusing now. I've been shaving myself for over 10 years, daily. I certainly know my way around a cunt and a razor. I have no idea why I thought it would be any different. She hadn't shaved for awhile, so it was more than just a stubble. I can't really word it any better than Ma'am did herself when she pointed down there and said with contempt "THIS is DISGUSTING." *snickers at the memory*
So I set to work first with the dry shaver, which is quite different than my own, so I was a bit unsure how to use it at first and having images of sucking that long, course black hair into those blades and plucking it right out. I have no desire to make my owner scream in anything other than ecstacy, thankyouverymuch. Thus, I started out very cautiously, this cartoon version of my failure and the resulting punishment playing through my head as I dusted her with powder and got to work getting rid of the mess of hair the best I could. It took me awhile. Rather longer than it should have no doubt, but Ma'am humoured me and just let me work.
The cartoon faded into the back of my mind as I fell into a rabbit hole of focus. I carefully finished the prep work, fetched the bowl of warm water, washcloth and razors and set to work. Lathering her up, pulling the skin tight in one hand and carefully ridding the area of hair with a fresh razor. I paid attention to every area, shaving her the same way I knew she expected me to be. That little valley where the labia lips begin that often hides a long hair or two no matter how often you run the razor there. The creases where thighs meet. The runway down to that other oh-so-sensitive hole. The fleshy, soft inner curves that could knick and bleed with the slightest mistouch. Every area got the careful attention until no hair remained. I felt a little shy as I parted her lips, so blatantly examining and touching my Owners cunt with respectful focus on my job, not allowing my eyes to wander beyound my job to admire her, just simply looking for missed hairs and unacceptable stubble. I had a job to do and she expected me to do it well. To serve well. The switch that allowed my own desires to surface had no place in this task and thus, they automatically stayed where they belonged.
I finished and fetched clean, warm water, wringing the cloth out over her mound and watching the trail of water trickle down between her lips uninterrupted, cleaning away the last of hair and cream until I knew Ma'am would be satisfied. I felt warm and flushed, but not with desire or my expected horniness, rather with pleasure. Deep, profound, grateful pleasure. My Owner allowed me to serve her in the most intimate of ways and besides doing well for my first time, it was immensely rewarding to simply be allowed to look at her, to touch her, to serve her. I don't expect these things, and being used as such is a wonderful reward. My confidence felt boosted as well, knowing I could do this chore in the future without disappointing her, and making notes in my mind of how I could improve and add a bit more grace to my movements in the process.
I felt oddly foggy, lost in a trance I've come to call "service space". The scene was not erotic, at least not in a traditional sense. Ma'am paid little attention to me, engrossed in the TV, and I paid little attention to sexual desires or fantasies despite being inches away from a woman's cunt for the first time in a damn long time. It was erotic in a different way, in a way I can't really find words for other than to note how distant I felt from my own sexuality. almost as if it just doesn't belong to me anymore. I've become so used to putting myself on the back burner when it comes to wants and desires that it no longer feels right or natural to focus on them when there is an opportunity to please and serve Ma'am instead. It really did surprise me to feel like this so easily because it really isn't an easy thing to do. You can't just shut off desires, it's like they require careful rewiring. I feel as if my focus and my sexuality have been rewired to serve Ma'am above all else.
In a way, this is very freeing, albeit a bit confusing yet. Perhaps just in its newness. Another way she controls me, owns me. My desire to be used to pleasure her and be used sexually by her is high, but for entirely different reasons than it used to be. Through our days together, as she allowed me orgasms I didn't feel the excitement and release I expected to at finally being allowed to come. My thoughts were centered on displaying myself well for her entertainment, showing proper gratitude, and gratefully obeying the release she desired of me, not taking the pleasure she granted me. There is a difference. When she was finished with me and we lay there together, my thoughts wandered to her, feeling oddly guilty at having been given this pleasure while she took none for herself. It feels almost disrespectful, despite the orgasms being what she wanted and permitted.
The first orgasm she allowed was while M was there, as I wrote about in and earlier post. When she went upstairs to fetch gloves and lube, M giggled and mouthed to me that I was going to get to cum because she wanted to watch me. I knew the possibility of Ma'am not allowing me any release even after 8 long months was very real and I expected to feel relief at this tidbit. Instead I just felt determined to give M and Ma'am a good show since Ma'am was being so generous to her guest to permit me something I'm not entirely sure she would have chosen otherwise.
I can't really seem to explain this well. I just know it all feels very different and it very much fits with my need of tight control and ownership. Some days I wonder if Ma'am told me I could have a free week to masturbate and come all I wanted, would I take advantage of it?
You haven't been listening if you think the answer is yes. I doubt I would even think twice about it.
In fact, I think I would feel rather horrified at the prospect.
Freedom doesn't suit me.
* * *
Today's topic is serving. And shaving. I'll get to the shaving part in a bit.
I told Ma'am what I all wanted to write about yet, and one of them was this certain form of service she asked of me during my visit. She asked today if it would be a horny slut diaries post and I said no...no it wouldn't be. And it isn't. Which in and of itself is confusing to me. So let's explore that a bit...
Ma'am has used me for her sexual pleasure now and then. It isn't something that happens very often, although I am still required to research and keep myself informed on various ways of pleasing women, despite them not being called to use often at all. I used to daydream about her fucking me with a strapon, or shoving me between her legs to pleasure her. These daydreams would turn me on so much and I would spend hours fantasizing about it. However, the fantasies were full of reasons and desires for this because they turned ME on and it was a source of desire for myself. I love the smell and taste and texture of womanly parts.
However, more and more I am loosing sight of my sexuality. It started with the orgasm denials. That too at first was something that turned me on and was fueled largely by my own desires. It has over the years and over the longer periods of denial become something that I desire for much deeper and more emotional reasons rather than the physical ones my body reacted to. My body still reacts, mind you. I'm no prude. Yet emotionally I am in such a drastically different place regarding my sexuality. More accurately...HER sexuality. It just no longer feels like my own. I don't even daydream of being with women anymore. The longing is still intact, the love and appreciation of womanly bodies. I still flow as wet as a faucet when used and fucked and displayed. It's just the switch that has been rewired in a very big way.
Every single touch, orgasm, pleasure even fantasy...belongs to her. Every hole. I may never have sex again if she chooses that for me. I may never taste the sweet musk on my tongue or feel a hard cock up my ass or shoved down my throat. And I am perfectly content with that, as long as it pleases her to deny it to me. The past two years of being trained and molded to put her needs and her desires and her pleasure before my own has taken on a life of its own to the point where emotionally I don't even focus on my own desires unless she flips that switch that permits them to surface and entertain her, please her, be of use to her.
This fact crashed home for me one of our nights alone together. She informed me it was time to shave her, undressed, spread out on the bed on top of a towel and picked up the remote. I was terrified at first, which strikes me as rather amusing now. I've been shaving myself for over 10 years, daily. I certainly know my way around a cunt and a razor. I have no idea why I thought it would be any different. She hadn't shaved for awhile, so it was more than just a stubble. I can't really word it any better than Ma'am did herself when she pointed down there and said with contempt "THIS is DISGUSTING." *snickers at the memory*
So I set to work first with the dry shaver, which is quite different than my own, so I was a bit unsure how to use it at first and having images of sucking that long, course black hair into those blades and plucking it right out. I have no desire to make my owner scream in anything other than ecstacy, thankyouverymuch. Thus, I started out very cautiously, this cartoon version of my failure and the resulting punishment playing through my head as I dusted her with powder and got to work getting rid of the mess of hair the best I could. It took me awhile. Rather longer than it should have no doubt, but Ma'am humoured me and just let me work.
The cartoon faded into the back of my mind as I fell into a rabbit hole of focus. I carefully finished the prep work, fetched the bowl of warm water, washcloth and razors and set to work. Lathering her up, pulling the skin tight in one hand and carefully ridding the area of hair with a fresh razor. I paid attention to every area, shaving her the same way I knew she expected me to be. That little valley where the labia lips begin that often hides a long hair or two no matter how often you run the razor there. The creases where thighs meet. The runway down to that other oh-so-sensitive hole. The fleshy, soft inner curves that could knick and bleed with the slightest mistouch. Every area got the careful attention until no hair remained. I felt a little shy as I parted her lips, so blatantly examining and touching my Owners cunt with respectful focus on my job, not allowing my eyes to wander beyound my job to admire her, just simply looking for missed hairs and unacceptable stubble. I had a job to do and she expected me to do it well. To serve well. The switch that allowed my own desires to surface had no place in this task and thus, they automatically stayed where they belonged.
I finished and fetched clean, warm water, wringing the cloth out over her mound and watching the trail of water trickle down between her lips uninterrupted, cleaning away the last of hair and cream until I knew Ma'am would be satisfied. I felt warm and flushed, but not with desire or my expected horniness, rather with pleasure. Deep, profound, grateful pleasure. My Owner allowed me to serve her in the most intimate of ways and besides doing well for my first time, it was immensely rewarding to simply be allowed to look at her, to touch her, to serve her. I don't expect these things, and being used as such is a wonderful reward. My confidence felt boosted as well, knowing I could do this chore in the future without disappointing her, and making notes in my mind of how I could improve and add a bit more grace to my movements in the process.
I felt oddly foggy, lost in a trance I've come to call "service space". The scene was not erotic, at least not in a traditional sense. Ma'am paid little attention to me, engrossed in the TV, and I paid little attention to sexual desires or fantasies despite being inches away from a woman's cunt for the first time in a damn long time. It was erotic in a different way, in a way I can't really find words for other than to note how distant I felt from my own sexuality. almost as if it just doesn't belong to me anymore. I've become so used to putting myself on the back burner when it comes to wants and desires that it no longer feels right or natural to focus on them when there is an opportunity to please and serve Ma'am instead. It really did surprise me to feel like this so easily because it really isn't an easy thing to do. You can't just shut off desires, it's like they require careful rewiring. I feel as if my focus and my sexuality have been rewired to serve Ma'am above all else.
In a way, this is very freeing, albeit a bit confusing yet. Perhaps just in its newness. Another way she controls me, owns me. My desire to be used to pleasure her and be used sexually by her is high, but for entirely different reasons than it used to be. Through our days together, as she allowed me orgasms I didn't feel the excitement and release I expected to at finally being allowed to come. My thoughts were centered on displaying myself well for her entertainment, showing proper gratitude, and gratefully obeying the release she desired of me, not taking the pleasure she granted me. There is a difference. When she was finished with me and we lay there together, my thoughts wandered to her, feeling oddly guilty at having been given this pleasure while she took none for herself. It feels almost disrespectful, despite the orgasms being what she wanted and permitted.
The first orgasm she allowed was while M was there, as I wrote about in and earlier post. When she went upstairs to fetch gloves and lube, M giggled and mouthed to me that I was going to get to cum because she wanted to watch me. I knew the possibility of Ma'am not allowing me any release even after 8 long months was very real and I expected to feel relief at this tidbit. Instead I just felt determined to give M and Ma'am a good show since Ma'am was being so generous to her guest to permit me something I'm not entirely sure she would have chosen otherwise.
I can't really seem to explain this well. I just know it all feels very different and it very much fits with my need of tight control and ownership. Some days I wonder if Ma'am told me I could have a free week to masturbate and come all I wanted, would I take advantage of it?
You haven't been listening if you think the answer is yes. I doubt I would even think twice about it.
In fact, I think I would feel rather horrified at the prospect.
Freedom doesn't suit me.
Thank you
