The Horny Slut Diaries

[serijules]

I'm having a voyeuristic streak right now and have been writing about my experiences with my Ma'am in my journal lately. I thought maybe some of you all would enjoy reading them...

For those that don't know us, my Ma'am and I are in a long distance relationship right now so we often talk and play online between visits when our conflicting schedules allow for it. I am her collared slave of over two years now.

I'm a little hesitant to post them....here goes nothing, heh.



July 22nd

I should be packing, but I'm not.

I was up late last night being tortured beyound belief by my very mean Domme, so I'm sleeepppy. Well, she sent me to bed at a decent time, but I had trouble falling asleep because I was SO DAMN HORNY.

I STILL haven't been allowed to orgasm and between vibrating eggs, icy hot, shaving, touching, tasting and ring tugging...*squirms*...I'm about ready to explode.

I won't lie though, as desperate as I am right now, I'm totally enjoying entertaining her and being teased this hard. I almost hope she keeps it up until I really, absolutely cannot take another minute, another day....

and she makes me anyhow.

Please Ma'am...make me suffer?

*whimpers*

 

[serijules]

July 24th

July 24th

Orgasm denial has been a part of my relationship from the very start. I can't even remember what it was like to be allowed to touch on my own whim, although I DO remember that before restrictions were put in place, I used to have many orgasms a DAY sometimes. In the shower, before a nap, before bed and any time in between. Now orgasms are no where NEAR that frequent...twice a month is a treat and you can be sure they are earned first. *winces*

Usually though, admittedly..if Ma'am starts touching me or ordering my cunt filled, by the end of the evening I'll be allowed an orgasm. I must have become a little spoiled on that assumption, because it's now been nearly a week that she's been teasing me most evenings and an orgasm doesn't seem to be in the plans right now. I'm not used to this, but it's woken up this mess of new emotions and reactions for me. Denying an orgasm within the course of a play session is one thing, or denying stimulation for weeks on end. I've done that often, and while it gets frustrating after awhile it is pretty easy for me to just block out my sexual needs and go on with life. This is another notch up on that ladder here. Now we are talking denying orgasm while using my body as a toy, like a puppet. A little touching here, a little fucking there, a lot of pain, a bit of teasing, an evening of slutful entertainment, a good taste just how slutty I am with orders to clean the toys or my fingers off, just knowing how much that makes me blush and how hungry I get with that little tidbit.

Then....

Toys away, hands away...time for sleep or work or whatnot. No arguments, no complaints. Thank You Ma'am for letting me suffer for you.

As I said in a previous post, I'm enjoying this. Last night I spent a little time before falling asleep thinking about WHY I'm enjoying in and thought I would share some of those thoughts here.

Pain and suffering is something that in my relationship, is a driving force. My deepest connections with Ma'am come when she is hurting me, demanding a lot from me, ordering me to take it for her. Some people show their love with romantic gestures and cuddles and hugs and sexual interactions. We have all of those things present, yes, but the most intense moments come in pain. She gives it, and I take it. I have no options, there are no confusions....she gives it, I take it. Period.

I've always enjoyed pain...I mean, I'm involved in a BDSM lifestyle, pain is a huge part of that oftentimes. Early on in my explorations, control was never of much interest to me...it was all about sensation, pain. I was a bottom, not a submissive, despite my claims to otherwise. Pain could take me into the deepest subspaces and I loved it, wanted it harder, wanted more. For ME.

When Ma'am collared me, the pain became about her. I no longer could sink into subspace and focus on enjoying the pain for myself, on dictating how and where and what. With the loss of control, I lost my ability to truly ENJOY the pain for quite a long time. It became something I endured more than something I enjoyed. This was not a bad thing mind you, not at all...it was just different and at times a struggle to not feel upset when my tolerance levels were so low. My submission became a focus, and I got all my pleasure from serving, pleasing, submitting.

It's like both have come full circle again now and merged. Taking pain means I am serving her, I am pleasing her, I am submitting to suffering for her pleasure and amusement. As bad as something may hurt and as much as I may want it to end physically, emotionally I am insatiable. After a hard beating I may be crying and sobbing and begging her to stop, but I am also feeling security, contentment, and a bursting pride at being allowed to serve her in such a manner. I would gladly take more if she demands it, even if my words and my actions are not quite saying that. My heart is.

Right now, my cunt is throbbing. Touching is constantly on my mind. I'd gladly, wantonly rub myself up against a desk or a door frame or my body pillow for a few blissed moments of slight pleasure if I were allowed to act in such a way. Shaving is TORTURE. I go through multiple pairs of panties per day because I get so wet at even mere thoughts.

This IS painful. I'll easily file this under the suffering category. Self control is painful! Especially with some of the creative teasing orders she comes up with. Last night I begged to be allowed to touch, and she let me touch....with icy on my clit. I groaned, I dreaded it (that hurts!), but....but...I moaned and squirmed and got wetter and wetter too. I enjoyed suffering.

I've come to a point where I can enjoy that pain again and not feel like I need to display otherwise. Even if my body is hurting and it's hard to take it, I can enjoy it because I'm suffering for her. There is nothing to not enjoy about pleasing my Ma'am and entertaining her with my desperation.

I want to orgasm, badly. I'd drop to my knees and kiss her feet and beg with every ounce of slut I have in me right now to be tied to the bed and fucked until I'm sobbing. And we don't even DO feet kissing!

At the end, I'd hope I was denied orgasm all the same. I'm feeling a bit nuts right now, with these conflicting desires!

*groans and shifts in chair* This is confusing, for sure. I'm suffering, and loving it. I want to see how far she goes, how hard I'm used, how deeply I can please her with my suffering.

But DAMN I want release. If I sound desperate and a bit whiny, it's because I am.

It's a reminder too. I am Owned, you know? This isn't my cunt to touch on whim or desire things for. I won't get an orgasm because it is what I want or crave. If she allows me to come, it will be for her, and it will be a reward she expects me to be extremely grateful for. This isn't about my enjoyment. It's what she wants right now and it will continue that way until what she wants is my release, on her command, at her whim, on her say how.

Control. Pain. Suffering. Entertainment.

*bites lip* I'm craving a bite right now...biting and cane marks. The two purest forms of pain I know, both of which Ma'am gives so very well. Both are a struggle for me to take sometimes, but both give me the purest form of satisfaction and pride at having taken them for her as well.

Alright, my words are running together, I shall stop now. Horniness makes the brain turn to mush.

 

[serijules]

July 25th

I got to talk to Ma'am online for quite some time today, which is rare between our conflicting schedules, need for sleep and just plain real life. The timing actually worked out for once where it was when I was nearly finished working. Drawback was T being home as it was his day off, and he tends to hover around me and annoy the crap out of me when he's home. I felt bad about that as if not for him I would have been able to give Ma'am my FULL attention with no distractions *sigh* Ah well, at least we got the time together, beggers can't be choosers I guess.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm very happy and was floating all day from our talk, but...yes, yes, this is going to be a horny slut diaries post!

My Ma'am is gorgeous. You may not know this about her, but she is. Seeing her on cam makes my heart skip a beat or two...she has the most expressive face and eyes. Seeing the evil glint in them when she is toying with me makes me instantly wet. The smile on her face when I squirm is delicious. The raised eyebrow when I get a little too cheeky makes me freeze and duck my head in embarrassment. She can do an awful lot to me with just a look.

Yesterday she spent much of the afternoon teasing me mercilessly while I was laying in bed. I had intended to nap to get rid of a migraine, but was soon distracted by a very wet, very throbbing, very needy cunt. SOME OF YOU are horrible, terrible people (just kidding, you know I love it) had suggested that 8 minutes every two hours of clamped nipples was not nearly enough. Ma'am agreed, despite probably not even having read that entry yet so this is some dominant wavelength thing going on or something....and ordered my nipples clamped for 5 minutes every hour. *groans at the memory and ignores still aching nipples* I admittedly cried from this, but damn if it didn't make me clench my fists into the sheets and pant like a pony in heat.

She allowed me to touch....demanded it, actually....I don't know how long it went on, it blurs together now, but it took some serious self control to not orgasm. I was allowed to taste myself when she was finished amusing herself with my need. I love the taste of women and I love my own taste as well. I sucked my fingers off gratefully, knowing it would only turn me on all that much more.

Sleep didn't come during this nap but thankfully the headache finally went away. I keep telling Ma'am it's because she won't let me come. She knows better. Here I was thinking I had a medical excuse to be allowed to orgasm!

Today I was filled for her...first my cunt with her cock. Her cock is actually an ice dildo mold that I have, but it works awesome for longer everyday wear. It's short, hollow, very fat and flexible, but still plenty firm enough to fill (and fuck) a needy cunt. Every shift in my chair, every move I made, every step I took....her cock was driven deeper into my soaking, throbbing pussy. I can't even articulate to you how torturous this is. She ordered me to remove it after a bit of amusement. I was sorry to see it go, but it was replaced by a plug in my ass.

I love anal play....I don't always do so well with it because I have a very sensitive body and my ability to take anal play is a come and go thing. Today it felt good...I welcomed that plug in my ass, clenching around it tight as it stretched me open, remembering the last time Ma'am took my ass. She had me naked, on my hands and knees on the bed in front of her. She took her time....playing with my asshole, slipping a finger or two in and out, finger fucking me. I just stayed there in position, not knowing what she planned to do, not daring to beg for anything. For some reason I just knew I had to stay there and take it like a good toy, and I did. It was tough to not beg to be fucked hard or be allowed to touch myself. After awhile she patted my ass, told me to get cleaned up, and that was that. No touch, no stimulation, no release, no explanation. Just used for her pleasure, served as her toy, and cleaned up and put away. It was a very humbling experience. I felt so exposed, so used. I WAS used.

My cunt was throbbing again remembering this, and I squirmed a bit, savoring the feeling of the plug inside me when she decided the cock needed to go back in as well. For two hours, I was to be filled completely. By the end of the two hours, I felt like sobbing as I removed the toys, cleaned them up, cleaned myself up and put them away. The urge to straddle the side of the tub and fuck that cock until I was screaming was overwhelming.

This whole thing is overwhelming. The desire consumes me in ways my arousal has never felt before. I feel it constantly, sometimes fading into the background but it's always there now, it doesn't shut off, I can't block it out.

I'm such a slut.

I have to go spend 10 minutes on my knees before bed, 5 minutes of that clamped. My nipples protest at the thought, but my cunt has a mind of its own, throbbing at the promise of more pain. Then I will crawl into bed and curl up, wrapping my legs around my body pillow as I always do, groaning as it brushes against my oversensitive privates. I'll squirm a little, knowing it will make matters worse for me. And I'll go to sleep. eventually....

Unsatisfied, untouched and throbbing madly.

I mentioned today that I feared She would keep me in this state until Sept when I visit. She said she'd thought about it.

*gulp*

 

[serijules]

July 27th

After work yesterday, I was so agitated and horny I didn't even trust myself to go run the errands I had planned to do, so I decided to ask Ma'am how her toy could serve her. After a bit of consideration, she ordered me to lube and put a tampon in my ass.

Now, this may sound strange, but it's actually quite clever. Unlike a plug with smooth surfaces, a tampon stays put exactly where you put in, even with lube. This creates a friction that I can't really explain other than to say it's rather different than a plug and in some ways, more arousing. There is the humiliation factor too. The best thing about the tampon though, is removing it. It doesn't just slide out, it takes a bit of tugging and a lot of resistance to get it to come out. I won't attempt to describe how orgasmic this is, just trust me, it is. It leaves me feeling well fucked, that lovely burning feeling that makes anal sex so wonderful to submit to. *sighs and squirms*

Anyhoo....the tampon just added to my growing frustration and craving for hurt for Ma'am. It's like this arousal consumes me and rather than craving release from it, I'm craving to take more and more. More pain, more teasing, more torture. It's starting to scare me a little bit, how consuming this desire it. Not a bad scare, mind you, just a very new and different and unknown feeling, at least unknown in the sense of being this strong.

I begged her to allow me to clamp my nipples and clit, begging to be allowed a moment to just lay there, squirming in pain, for her. She agreed that sounded lovely, and I undressed, curling up on the bed with my clamps, rolling my nipples around my fingers to harden them before attaching the clovers, shivering as the cold chain pooled between my breasts. I writhed there for a moment, biting back a moan or two before I remembered I had yet to clamp my clit, and did so with a clothespin. I have a clothespin especially for this purpose...loosened just a bit so it doesn't snap off and without potential to damage by wearing for longer periods, but still PLENTY of bite to hurt every second it is on. I knew better than to touch (although I will admit to using my rings to tug my lips open...how useful they are!) but I had no trouble finding my clit...it was hard and throbbing, begging for attention of any sort. I slid the clamp into place after a bit of struggle trying to keep it from sliding off from all the wetness seeping from my cunt. What a slut.

I have only had my clit clamped a handful of times in my life, and it's always very very difficult to take. I do NOT like direct clitoral stimulation, so it really is very painful for me, which was what I was looking for right then. I needed to feel her pain, to know I was pleasing her by hurting for her, taking it for her. Minutes passed; I hadn't specified a time limit and she hadn't mentioned one, so I was at her mercy until she decided I had enough, which was thrilling. As the clamps bit harder and the pain become more focused and less enjoyable, I thrust my hips into the air wantonly, as if begging her to give me mercy I knew deep down I really didn't want. My phone buzzed and I grabbed it desperately, anxious to connect with her in this moment, and her message didn't disappoint. A single, lovely word.

Suffering.

Yes...I was suffering. It had been at least 10 minutes now and my body was screaming. I waited for her next message with a mixture of dread and desperate anticipation. Part of me wanted this to stop. A bigger part of me was hoping to be made to suffer even more, despite that nagging thought of "I can't take any more of this" that was fighting a battle inside my mind. The phone buzzed again...

5 more minutes.

Ooh thank You Ma'am!

When time was up I asked permission to remove them, needing to hear it for some reason before I proceeded, knowing the next part would take the last 15 minutes of pain and roll it up into one 15-minutes-worth-of-pain bundle. I knew I would scream, and thusly I did. I pulled the clamps off quickly. It's like pulling off a band-aid; you try to convince yourself it will be painless if you do it quickly, but you know you are only fooling yourself. I writhed and rolled onto my stomach after pulling the clamp off between my legs, biting into the pillow with a dry sob.

I expected to feel sated, my need to hurt for her appeased. Alas, no. I wanted more, I was DESPERATE for more. In the same way my cunt is so desperate for release it throbs and spasms nearly constantly throughout the day, my body and mind was desperate for some yet to be seen level of pain.

I crawled up onto my hands and knees, fetching the lexan paddle out of my bag and laying it before me, grabbing the phone and pleading...please may I hurt some more for You Ma'am, i'm begging You....

I nearly sobbed again with relief, reading her orders. A set to my cheeks and thighs, then came the order to set up my camera, NOW, and I best not keep her waiting. I scrambled to obey, quivering with anticipation.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a wonderful blur of pain, wetness, and a blushing, smiling slut pet. She had me show her my rings, tugging them and spreading myself open, my wetness obvious, making me blush. She makes me so wet, even after 2 years I still blush with how WET she makes me. Those rings are SO lovely, they look beautiful, they feel beautiful. What a wonderful gift.

I was allowed to touch and play for a bit, resigned to the fact that I likely would not be allowed relief of any sort, making myself even more horny in the process. We were interrupted by T stopping home to let the A/C guy in so I had to be quiet for a bit, but that didn't deter her...loopy johnny's can be useful in times like such. It felt lovely on my smoothly shaved cunt, stinging lines of silent pain. She admired my nails, allowing me to drag them over my still stinging cunt, leaving blissed red lines I could just imagine her putting there herself. My hand wandered a bit too far down, which earned a sharp scolding to get my hands out of there, slut. At one point she ordered me to roll over and remove the tampon from my ass as she watched. I know I blushed, but I obeyed, enjoying the humiliation, whimpering at that oh-so-fucked feeling as the tampon grudgingly let go, leaving a sharp burn in its wake.

It was about time to wind down, she needed to nap before work. I fidgeted and tried not to show any protest; I still felt this overwhelming desire to hurt for her but I knew she needed her rest. I'll admit I likely did too, I had been pushed mentally and physically for days, as she pointed out. Still...I wondered if she could see that need in my eyes...I know she could see it in my breathing, which was coming in short, desperate gasps and pants. There's a new concept...denying me not only the pleasure I crave, but the pain as well. *shudders and moves on*

Then the last order came...put the clovers on..and leave the camera on your face.

I gulped and clipped them into place on my still sore nipples, yelping and closing my eyes, letting my breath out with a hiss knowing the pain was etched across my face and knowing she was enjoying it immensely. I watched the screen in a haze of pain, seeing her tell me how she wished she was here to tug that chain herself, detailing how she would wrap it around her hands and tug up, stretching my nipples taunt, her face right up close to mine, savoring my yells before letting the chain go with a snap, watching my breasts bounce down. I whimpered and imagined, seeing the scene in my head then looking back at the screen.

Do it. Just as described. Do it.

I whispered a raspy "Yes Ma'am" and wrapped the chain in my hand pulling my breasts up, holding them there for a moment and then letting go, yowling as the harsh clamps bounced, still biting cruelly into my nipples. Again, she ordered. And again I obeyed.

I swear I could have gone on like that for hours, the pain driving me to depths I didn't even know existed.

She ordered me to rest then, after the clamps were removed and the last of my yells faded. We lay there together for a moment, just being.

I'm her lypiphera.

It means pain-bearer.

 

[serijules]

I feel kinda dumb having posted these now.

That's the problem with late night whims...they don't seem like such great ideas come morning.

 

[SweetCherry]

I feel kinda dumb having posted these now.

That's the problem with late night whims...they don't seem like such great ideas come morning.

I was just actually enjoying this thread. I thought it was a brilliant idea.

 

[fallenupright]

I feel kinda dumb having posted these now.

That's the problem with late night whims...they don't seem like such great ideas come morning.

Don't feel dumb. That is some very interesting reading.

 

[myinnerslut]

That is some very interesting reading.

agreed

and i learned what lypiphera means

 

[serijules]

Thanks for saying so, I feel a little better now.

 

[A Desert Rose]

Thanks for saying so, I feel a little better now.

Like everyone else... they've been great reading. Don't stop now.

 

[serijules]

July 28th

Our schedules have conflicted the past two days, so stimulation of any kind has come to something of a halt. Normally, this would not be an "issue" but with the intensity of the previous days, it's a kind of sudden and unnerving change for this slave to adjust to.

I'm trying to take advantage of the respite and rest, so my body and my mind are ready to serve Her when she desires it of me. This is part of being a toy...it isn't about what I want or wish for. I am here to be used at her whim. Any good toy requires a certain amount of care to remain in tip top shape, so I'm sure rest and respite is a logical thing.

I just wish my cunt majored in logic.

I was having a bit of difficulty with this in my head this morning, entertaining feelings of sullenness, antsy for attention. Lately I have learned to ward this feeling away by asking permission to spend time on my knees, an act that often quickly puts my head back into the space it should be in.

She wasn't available to ask such permission when this mood hit, so I took the initiative to put myself in that position on my own. I knelt on the bedroom floor with my hands loose in my lap, wrapping my mind around the sensations and feelings of the past week and fanning them out before me like mismatched puzzle pieces, arranging them into groups that made more sense and allowed the image to form a hazy pattern behind my closed eyelids. The puzzle analogy helped me keep other thoughts from creeping in and I immediately felt calmer. My knees were aching, but the pain helped me retain my focus. I clicked the pieces in place and refound my center, allowing myself to get up off my knees only when I truly felt the sullenness slip away and gratitude at my role come to the front.

Pain and servitude come in many forms. The past week's service has been stimulating and enjoyable, even in the height of frustration, fear and pain. The sudden stop of that brings about another form of servitude and in a way, a more significant type; patience and priorities. I mentioned in a previous entry the thought of being DENIED the pain was almost unthinkable, a different form of torture and while I don't think it is Ma'am's intentions to deny attention right now (it's more of a schedule/time conflict thing)...fact is, I haven't been touched for two days now other than 10 minutes of nipple clamps before bed last night. I have to make the effort to not allow myself to feel as if I NEED more attention when deep down I know this feeling is all but a desire for my own needs to be met. Patience. Serving as Her toy means her pleasure and entertainment should be my focus, not my own. Priorities.

I want to hurt for Her again. It is difficult to go about my day without that desire creeping into my thoughts. I want to scream "TAKE ME, PLEASE!". I want to beg for attention. Yet I wait patiently for the opportunity to entertain again, for her to desire my screams and my beggings and my dripping arousal.

I serve a purpose. That purpose is to serve.

So I wait. A different sort of self control, and a duller one to write about I have to admit but I am doing so because while it may not be the most entertaining read, it is hopefully, a profound one.

The throbbing between my legs has faded a bit, but I know it won't take more than a word, a look, a simple order, to bring my body to full attention again, picking up just where it left off. Anticipation! Add that to the list of newfound tortures. *smile*

Some things have to be earned. I've always had to earn my orgasms. It's a new concept to think perhaps I just may have to earn my pain as well.

 

[SouthernDom]

Thanks for posting!

It is truly a great read........keep em coming!

 

[Quint]

...........

 

[serijules]

July 31st

Since I last wrote, I've spent a bit of time with both my ass and my cunt filled. Ma'am and I spent a little time online before she had to go tend to some company during which she ordered me to be filled with her cock until dinner. I have my period, so this held the promise of being a bit messy, but I have long since learned that my body bleeding without her permission is not an excuse of any imaginable sort. So I didn't even think to protest, just made sure to put a pad on my panties. It's getting harder to accept that thickness inside me and not just break down and fuck the hell out of it. She likes to give me orders to squeeze it or wiggle around it, and damn...that's mean, I'm telling you, it just is.

Yesterday while I was cleaning and packing, she had my ass filled and ordered my nipples and clit clamped a bit. It made a mundane, boring task take on an entirely new focus for me. Having my ass filled and nipples aching, I felt like whatever I was doing, I was serving her. I couldn't bend over without consciously trying to keep the plug from slipping out. Lifting or moving boxes with sore nipples made for some interesting moments of gasps and winces. My mind was on being bitten....Ma'am loves to bite, and I love the pure pure pain of being bitten. It's incredibly hard for me to handle but I just LOVE the feeling of being taken, of suffering so badly for her that I can't even find it in me to enjoy the pain. It just IS, and I have no choice, and it's fucking awesome. Ma'am shared a thought of biting my shoulder, feeling a trail of hot slip down my skin. My blood....I shudder to think of how badly that would hurt, being bitten until I bleed. I shudder at how dangerous it is. I cry and sob and plead when she bites me, but every time...every time she stops, I whimper and burst out with another "please....". I want it so badly to stop yet when it does, I can't stand it, I want it back. I need it back even though it feels so damn good when she stops, it feels even better when she doesn't.

This orgasm denial saga is like that.

A comment made in a conversation about orgasm denial had me thinking. One girl commented on how she enjoyed orgasm control, but there was a limit. She really didn't believe that I have gone as long (or longer, as I have gone much longer than a weekish before) as I have without cheating or lying about it. I get this attitude a lot, and it baffles me.

Sex is not about orgasms to me. Sexual play is not about orgasms to me. I won't claim to not want them or not enjoy them; I most certainly do. However, the road leading up to the climax is MUCH more important to me. I love suffering like this, I really, honestly just do. It's hard and difficult and frustrating and any other number of things, but it is also much more than that. It is stimulating, rewarding, and challenging. It makes me feel beautiful, to have my body so alive and be so aware of its needs and wants. It makes me feel deliciously slutty, and proud to be able to submit to this control with everything I am and give so much to someone I adore. It hones in on my submission and makes it feel larger than life. To me, all of this is a great experience and definitely worth a lack of a few couple-second orgasms and personal pleasure. The personal pleasure of pleasing my Ma'am is orgasmic in its own way. So to the doubters out there...it certainly may not be for everyone, but I'm glad I'm not everyone

During our conversation the other day while I was filled, Ma'am teasingly asked me if I would like to come. I didn't REALLY believe her, but some tiny part of me that is used to the evil workings of this woman wasn't quite sure, as I know she likes to allow me pleasures when I least expect them. Pain too, for that matter...

I sat there with my heart thumping in my chest and my cunt squeezing desperately around her cock. Did I want to come?? HELL yes...I think....sort of....no....not really...

My answer was no Ma'am.

I can't help myself. My body really feels like it cannot take another minute of this, but mentally I'm so completely enjoying being pushed like this. I've been craving this for a long time, been craving to be an outlet for Ma'ams most evil desires. I crave for her to really use her toy, her pet, in whatever sadistic ways she can come up with. I know she is enjoying herself and I know there is a lot more sadism in her that she has yet to explore, and damnit, I want to be someone she can unleash that on. I do, with everything I am.

So thus, my answer was no. Not that it mattered whatsoever what my answer was, but had I had the choice, that would have been it.

Besides, I begged to suffer, did I not?

All this has me wondering though...about the other end of the scale; being forced to endure multiple orgasms a day or be punished if I fail. I am not multi-orgasmic and have a hard time sometimes achieving even two. Different scale of suffering there, I imagine. Maybe I'll find out someday.

 

[SweetCherry]

Thank you for sharing such an intimate part of your life. I really love reading this. *smile*

 

[KinkyKath]

Great sentence!!!

Dear, a few days ago you wrote, "I just wish my cunt majored in logic."

I howled! In terms of rational thought, I fear that our cunnies get an "F" each time they are graded, because pussies (a) tend to do what they wish to (b) be satisifed and (c) bring joy to whatever partner happens to be at hand.

Your subject matter intrigued me because I have never gotten into this particular sort of play. Conversely, I have always been in a quick-gratification mode, either with a male lover or one of my bi gal pals. I suppose the nearest I come to orgasm denial is when my husband teases me by rubbing his cock up and down the length of my cunt without penetrating -- no matter how much I plead and beg, no matter how much I wiggle beneath him in my futile attempt to get him inside me.

And, of course, once he does penetrate me, I reward myself with a bed-shaking orgasm.

Do keep writing. Fascinating, my dear, and you get a 9.7 wetness rating on my Erotica Evaluation Meter, aka my pussy!

K

 

[KinkyKath]

reply thing

just coming back to hit the get-replies thing....

 

[BiBunny]

Wow, serijules, I've really enjoyed reading these. (Not to mention the fact that I'm awed by your endurance!)

 

[Avery_Chisholm]

MMMMMMMMMm

 

[serijules]

Wow, serijules, I've really enjoyed reading these. (Not to mention the fact that I'm awed by your endurance!)

Don't be....be awed by the fear of disobedience that my Owner installs in me *grin*

 

[serijules]

Spent the weekend with my Owner...just thought I'd share my thoughts here.

I was going to write a story...but right now I'm feeling like just talking, getting my feelings out there. I suppose that is a story in its own rights. *smiles* Ma'am suggested I simply share in installments, thus, that's what I will do. I'm no good at remembering the order of things and get frustrated trying to share in that way. The order isn't of importance anyhow, but the feelings and the memories.

I have a ritual in place now, a rule of sorts. I am to kneel and wait for Ma'am when I get off the plane. My heart always skips a beat or two and my head rushes into my place, kneeling there in front of all those people. I don't look for her intentionally; there is no need to, she will approach when ready.

As I made my way over to the corner I knelt in last visit, there was Ma'am, waiting. I smiled, approached, and knelt. The happiness that floods me when I see her is a lovely feeling. The feeling I get when I kneel at her feet is ten times that. I speak of pureness a lot; pure pain, pure pleasure. Kneeling at my Owners feet is pure joy.

She placed my collar around my neck in the car, another ritual I so look forward to. I had to struggle to contain my tears; I was overjoyed to feel it there again, to hear that lock click into place. Despite my struggles with doubts and depression and insecurity lately, despite feeling like perhaps maybe I didn't deserve to wear that collar, it was placed there, same as always. The security and love of that action for me was much needed, and strongly felt. I DO belong, and it would take an awful lot to shatter that. A lesson that was beat into me throughout the visit, oft times physically.

Being the slut that I am, my cunt gushed with desire the moment I laid eyes on my Owner. It had been months since this slut had been allowed to orgasm, and much teasing and stimulation was added that that torture for her amusement. I loved enduring it, my body has never felt so owned, so controlled. I feared she would send me home unsatisfied, and I tell you, I knew she was considering it. The first few days were spent further teasing, touching, filling me, fucking me, probing me until I thought I would be so pent up with frustration by the time she allowed me release that it wouldn't even be possible to find it. My beautiful labia rings were locked, the weight of the lock settling just so on my smooth shaven cunt, nestling against my lips lightly, teasingly, tortuously. The lock pulled my lips down just so as I moved, caressing my throbbing clit. I bit back beggings and pleadings more times than I dare say those few days, struggling to keep my desires where they were expected to be; on her pleasure, not my own.

The lock we were using didn't work so well with my body chemistry so it had to be removed after a few days. I miss that feeling so much. To have my cunt locked, a constant reminder that no one touches me or enters me without her permission, not even myself, was incredible. There is something so deeply satisfying about having the entirety of my sexuality in the hands of another. It brings my arousal and physical pleasure to a whole new level, I can't even begin to describe this discovery. It's like my sexuality exists only to serve and please her, it is no longer something of my own on any level. Now she has a key to it, the only key. Oh I miss that lock there...

The pain I took was purer than anything I remember taking in the past. Her canes, across my thighs and buttocks and breasts...Blessed but did they feel wonderful. The fears and hesitances of the past were gone, replaced by a near desperate need to take what she gave me and take it well. Each cane stroke brought with it a harsh line of pain to my tender flesh, brought screams to my lips and waves of desire to my cunt. My back arched to meet the strokes, screaming in anguish as I struggled to balance the pain and control my body, prevent it from betraying me and disobeying its owner, god forbid. The fear of such thing was enough to qualm that need, but I daresay I came quite close, too close, many a time.

The first time she caned me this visit will forever be etched in my memory as the most incredible caning I've ever received. My body was so ready, my endurance seemingly unlimited and the ache was so deep it seemed bottomless. She chose to use the thicker canes, the senior canes moreso than the others. The impact of them left a deep burn and even deeper welts, shuddering through my body and mingling with my arousal. I still feel them now, days later, sitting here writing, my flesh painted with deep purple bruises and gorgeous little twin lines. Even the times when the pain is great and my mind isn't quite so keen on taking them as well, I can't help but crave this from the very core of my submission, my service. The joy on her face as she gives them to me is worth near anything.

The canes used to be something I took for me, and I prided myself on being able to take them well, remaining so still, no sound from my lips. Almost like it was a competition, to show how well I could take it, to impress others with my stoic nature. The thrill of such things, the need for such things, is long gone, and seems silly and insignificant now. I let myself feel them, allowed my body and voice to react freely. Screams and grunts of intermingled pain and desperate pleasure flowed from my lips and for once, I didn't try to restrain them. I squirmed and arched and writhed as the impact of the rattan rods sent tremors through me, meeting the ache of my loins and leaving me gasping, begging, pleading for more. Please Ma'am, may I have another?! Those words have never left my lips with such conviction, such honesty. Yes...I love her canes.

I embraced my pony side for the first time with her. It was a bit of a struggle at first; I felt shy about taking something that had remained so private inside me for so long and letting it come out, letting her be free. Before we went out to a party for the night, she had me lube my ass and kneel on the bed, gently pressing a plug inside me. I could feel the soft hair trailing from the plug securely in my bottom and tickling the back of my legs. I felt tears prick my eyes, wanting so badly to express this side of me but so nervous I would somehow fail. I'm not sure if she had planned to take me to the party as her pony and decided I wasn't quite ready for that, but regardless, it was my first real feeling of being pony with her, and I fought between hanging on to the privacy of it and displaying it with pride. I never did quite make it to displaying it as well as I wished to, but there is time for that, and I know in time she will have a well trained pony just bursting with that pride.

The next morning we lay together on the bed, her and I and C, cuddling and just being. My hair was a mess and I looked at the brush on the bedside, suddenly overcome with the need to be pony. I wanted to take the brush in my mouth and crawl over to her and gaze at her with big pony eyes but again my nerves got the best of me, and instead I whispered a nearly inaudible request that the pony be brushed. She ordered me to put on my pony panties, silky red with a long soft tail of hair that matched my mane near perfectly, a gift from her the previous night. I obliged happily, crawling over to her on the bed with my tail swishing behind me, brush and reins dropped in her lap. The reins were my gift to her. Or Cherish's gift to her, I should say. She slipped the bit in my mouth, the reins pooling in front of me, dragging the brush lightly over my body. I closed my eyes and smiled, leaning into her attentions, watching her lovingly and just being there, quiet and calm and happy and loved. The bit fit firm in my mouth, the rein clips jingling against the side of my lips. Subtle as the transformation was, I felt it strongly inside and the makings of a fine pony were born inside me that morning. Brand new and clumsy yet, but with an unlimited and beautiful potential.

We attended a kink party one evening. It was overwhelming for me to be around so many new people, unsure of how to communicate, my confidence at an all time low. The swinging bed became available and Ma'am ordered me to lay out the toys and fetch a blanket. I returned with the blanket to an order to strip of my clothes. I felt the blood drain from my face, gulping but obeying. If I felt vulnerable with the protection of my clothes and knowing I was likely not under anyone's scrutiny, it was nothing to being completely naked and on display. She had me kneel and asked me sternly why I was made to kneel and what my focus was to be. I murmured that it was my place and my focus was to be on her, and abruptly the nervousness trickled away, replaced by a calm. I was fine. I was hers.

I knelt for what seemed forever, my knees aching and screaming for me to readust my position, but I held it, taking the pain as I knew she expected. I must have been wringing my hands, as I felt her touch on my fingers, a silent order to stop. It's the smallest things that make me feel the most Owned.

After a bit she tapped me to get my attention and ordered me into parade rest...standing, legs spread slightly, hands clasped behind my back and my posture straight. I spend 10 minutes like this every morning, focusing on my submission, my place, my purpose, so I fell into the position with eyes, closing my eyes as directed. This felt even more vulnerable than kneeling, as there was nowhere to hide. I was pleased to realize that I no longer felt the desire to hide, and my focus was exactly where she wanted it. It felt exquisite. In a way, this was yet another limit I was stripped of. In my time as her property, I have been stripped of many and while I've been naked in public before, I have never been on display like that. I felt more confident, I felt beautiful. She obviously felt I was beautiful enough to put me on display like that to her friends and peers, and the lesson in that was not lost on me.

She helped me up on the bed, which was an experience in and of itself. The rocking was discomforting at first, but soon it lulled me into relaxation. I felt her hands on me, rubbing over my body gently. Her floggers and quirt bit into my flesh, the toys blurring together. I started crying at some point for no reason at all other than it was ok to do so. C practiced with a new single tail on me for a bit while Ma'am leaned across my back, her weight and warmth felt wonderful, as did the sharp sting of the tail.

Afterwards, allowed to sit at her feet again, I rested my head in her lap, content and happy. I wished badly I had done better, found that calm earlier in the evening and been able to socialize more and serve her better, but there is nothing to regret in an opportunity to improve and an experience to learn from, and I am well taught to know that is what is expected of me.

I'll come back to this in awhile...this feels like a good note to end this post on.

 

[Aeroil]

Hey! its "Serijules", how are you? }

heeeeh, interesting reading, even though the whole females being tortured/teased thing does nothing for me. and this line "to hear that lock click into place." made me laugh ^_^ Getting too caught up in descriptiveness eh seri?

 

[serijules]

Hey! its "Serijules", how are you? }

heeeeh, interesting reading, even though the whole females being tortured/teased thing does nothing for me. and this line "to hear that lock click into place." made me laugh ^_^ Getting too caught up in descriptiveness eh seri?

Um, I'm deaf, not a vegetable dear, "feeling" a lock click and hearing it are the same thing to me, just the same I can "hear" voices and music through the vibrations.

I'm fine, thanks for asking

And don't think I didn't see that capitol S you little brat

 

[Aeroil]

Um, I'm deaf, not a vegetable dear, "feeling" a lock click and hearing it are the same thing to me, just the same I can "hear" voices and music through the vibrations.

I'm fine, thanks for asking

And don't think I didn't see that capitol S you little brat

Don't think I didn't put it there to tease you ^_^

difference being seri that I don't image a lock clicking produces vibrations like a voice does, as opposed to you just feeling the collar closing, but I know what you mean, and I'm just kidding - REGARDLESS - my point remains, it made me laugh.

 

[serijules]

Don't think I didn't put it there to tease you ^_^

difference being seri that I don't image a lock clicking produces vibrations like a voice does, as opposed to you just feeling the collar closing, but I know what you mean, and I'm just kidding - REGARDLESS - my point remains, it made me laugh.

Of course you did!


It likely really doesn't, but you would be surprised how many other ways there are to use your senses to determine things when you are without one. I am very good at reading emotions and gaining visual clues because I am forced to since I can't gain that same knowledge by my ears. I CAN feel the lock click into place, I must since my eyes were closed. It makes sense to me to speak of it as "hearing" although I do see the humour in it as well.