I'm an anxious person.
I am, there, I said it, I can't take it back.
I worry a lot. Compulsively. I've had panic attacks in the past, and tend towards catastrophic thoughts. When I start to get negative, things can spiral rapidly out of control. I'm pessimistic. I'm cynical. I tend to focus on what can go wrong, rather than what can go right. Threats, not opportunities. Costs, not benefits.
It's not completely useless.It makes me good at my job, which involves a lot of risk management and looking for possible points of failure in processes and procedures. It makes me a very safety conscious top.
But mostly, it's a negative. It holds me back, in my relationship, in my career, in my day-to-day interactions. It's exhausting. It makes me shut myself into my own head, and takes me out of the moment. It makes me afraid to go for things I want, and even the things I need.
Recently, I've been having therapy. This isn't my first foray into counselling, but it's been very different to other experiences. Previous therapists have been very emotive-based, looking at feelings and past traumas and your typical sort of cathartic stuff. Helpful in its way, but not necessarily a solution. The therapy I've been having recently is much more...direct. It's been a very practical, behavioural approach. At first, I thought it wasn't helping. It was stressful, and sessions left me feeling worse than I did when I went in.
But recently, I've been noticing how much it's been helping me. I've been much more aware, much more conscious of my thoughts and my behaviours. I've been noticing when I've been overwhelmed, or stressed, or locked into my head, and trying to push back against it.
It hasn't always worked. That's ok. Nothing's perfect. But, slowly, I'm improving, or at least getting better control over myself.
And it's showing in my relationship. I'm happier. More confident. She calls me Master and I don't doubt or second guess it. I use her, and there isn't a nagging question in my mind about whether I deserve this. I feel like I belong where I am, more than I ever have.
I'm not perfect.
But I'm getting better.
Thursday, June 4, 2015
Thursday, April 2, 2015
Smut 2: The Stable
The girl could still feel the soreness around her neck, where he had dragged her by the collar. Out through the door and across the creaky veranda, barefoot across the rough gravel of the courtyard. Through the soft dirt of the woodshed, the powdery earth like sand between her toes. The squeak of the heavy metal door as it opened, the feel of his hand shoving her roughly inside. Out into the stable, empty now, but still with the lingering smell of horses and leather, earth and grass, the air warm with a late summer heat.
The girl shivered, hands bound with thick leather cuffs and tied to the rafter above her head. Naked in the warm, humid, chest heaving as she gasped to get back the breath that had been choked from her. . She could feel herself pulled tight by the ropes tugging at her arms, a burning in her calves, her buttocks, her back, her shoulders, tiptoes struggling to gain purchase on the rough, cold concrete floor. The tingle of a single bead of sweat running down her spine, making her shiver and gasp for breath again. There was an aching quiet. The girl could hear birds, softly singing, the occasional creak and groan from the old stables as the corrugated iron stretched under the rising heat of day.
The man broke the silence, his voice soft with a wicked promise. "What are you?" The girl tried to form the words, but her mouth was dry and they wouldn't come out. A choked whisper that might have been a murmured "Yours", was all the reply she could muster. It seemed to satisfy the man, who smiled and ran a large hand through her long, dark hair and down her back. It slipped off of the smooth curve of her buttock and then lashed back, landing with a heavy slap and a sudden reddening of flesh.
The girl jumped, squealing, the pain unexpected despite the anticipation that had brought her nipples to a tender, aching hardness. The man's hand returned, squeezing, digging his hard fingers into the soft meat until the girl squealed again. The man's other hand wrapped around her, covering her mouth, stifling the cry, stifling her breath, leaving the pain in her arse to fight with the burning in her lungs. That long instant, pulled taut by the rope and tormented at both ends seemed to last forever, an agonising instant stretched into a single, unending present until the hands let go. The girl slumped, gasping for breath, the rope above her all that kept her limp body on it's feet.
The man picked up the flogger, leather, heavy, soft. The girl could hear it, swishing through the air as the man loosened the strong muscles of his shoulders, his thick, muscled arms. The first blow came down across the girl's back, a solid thump of three dozen falls landing at once. The girl's knees went weak again, the pain fading from a sharp ache to a warm glow that slowly spread across her skin. The man waited, letting her absorb the feeling of that first strike before the second one lashed out. Another hard smack, another sharp ache that faded to warmth as her body soaked it in. The girl let out a sound, halfway between a moan of pain and a purr of delight. It brought a crooked smile to the man's face.
The pace stayed slow. Each stroke allowed to fall, peak, echo around the girl's body and fade to a deep warmth. Slowly, slowly, the pace built. Now the waves started to come one on top of the next, never fading fully before the next smack arrived. The girl allowed herself to float, riding the waves of warm, delicious pain as the tide slowly rose around her and inside her. Her back slowly arched, thrusting her shoulders back, inviting each blow of the whip, welcoming it, the sensations blending until they were one, a delicious, all-embracing cocoon of pain and joy. The fire of the flogger filled her, making her moan in the still air, making her writhe against the cuffs, making her drip onto the rough concrete floor.
The fire filled the girl. A direct line seemed to transmit each blow through the girl's body straight to the throbbing between her legs. The whipping sped up, each strike a little quicker than the last, each shot against her back a little harder than the one before, each crack of the flogger echoing a little louder off of the stable walls, each wave making her cunt swell a little more. Her body soaked up the pain and turned it to pleasure, radiating outwards from her aching clit. She turned to the man, gasping "please?"
"Please what, pet?"
"....please?"
The man paused. The flogger fell. He drew the waiting out, making the girl shiver. Enjoying that moment of holding her entire world in his hand. One last blow, the hardest of them all. A slow smile.
"Now."
The girl shivered, hands bound with thick leather cuffs and tied to the rafter above her head. Naked in the warm, humid, chest heaving as she gasped to get back the breath that had been choked from her. . She could feel herself pulled tight by the ropes tugging at her arms, a burning in her calves, her buttocks, her back, her shoulders, tiptoes struggling to gain purchase on the rough, cold concrete floor. The tingle of a single bead of sweat running down her spine, making her shiver and gasp for breath again. There was an aching quiet. The girl could hear birds, softly singing, the occasional creak and groan from the old stables as the corrugated iron stretched under the rising heat of day.
The man broke the silence, his voice soft with a wicked promise. "What are you?" The girl tried to form the words, but her mouth was dry and they wouldn't come out. A choked whisper that might have been a murmured "Yours", was all the reply she could muster. It seemed to satisfy the man, who smiled and ran a large hand through her long, dark hair and down her back. It slipped off of the smooth curve of her buttock and then lashed back, landing with a heavy slap and a sudden reddening of flesh.
The girl jumped, squealing, the pain unexpected despite the anticipation that had brought her nipples to a tender, aching hardness. The man's hand returned, squeezing, digging his hard fingers into the soft meat until the girl squealed again. The man's other hand wrapped around her, covering her mouth, stifling the cry, stifling her breath, leaving the pain in her arse to fight with the burning in her lungs. That long instant, pulled taut by the rope and tormented at both ends seemed to last forever, an agonising instant stretched into a single, unending present until the hands let go. The girl slumped, gasping for breath, the rope above her all that kept her limp body on it's feet.
The man picked up the flogger, leather, heavy, soft. The girl could hear it, swishing through the air as the man loosened the strong muscles of his shoulders, his thick, muscled arms. The first blow came down across the girl's back, a solid thump of three dozen falls landing at once. The girl's knees went weak again, the pain fading from a sharp ache to a warm glow that slowly spread across her skin. The man waited, letting her absorb the feeling of that first strike before the second one lashed out. Another hard smack, another sharp ache that faded to warmth as her body soaked it in. The girl let out a sound, halfway between a moan of pain and a purr of delight. It brought a crooked smile to the man's face.
The pace stayed slow. Each stroke allowed to fall, peak, echo around the girl's body and fade to a deep warmth. Slowly, slowly, the pace built. Now the waves started to come one on top of the next, never fading fully before the next smack arrived. The girl allowed herself to float, riding the waves of warm, delicious pain as the tide slowly rose around her and inside her. Her back slowly arched, thrusting her shoulders back, inviting each blow of the whip, welcoming it, the sensations blending until they were one, a delicious, all-embracing cocoon of pain and joy. The fire of the flogger filled her, making her moan in the still air, making her writhe against the cuffs, making her drip onto the rough concrete floor.
The fire filled the girl. A direct line seemed to transmit each blow through the girl's body straight to the throbbing between her legs. The whipping sped up, each strike a little quicker than the last, each shot against her back a little harder than the one before, each crack of the flogger echoing a little louder off of the stable walls, each wave making her cunt swell a little more. Her body soaked up the pain and turned it to pleasure, radiating outwards from her aching clit. She turned to the man, gasping "please?"
"Please what, pet?"
"....please?"
The man paused. The flogger fell. He drew the waiting out, making the girl shiver. Enjoying that moment of holding her entire world in his hand. One last blow, the hardest of them all. A slow smile.
"Now."
Sunday, February 1, 2015
Smut 1: A Lesson For Bunny
As a prelude to these posts, I'd like to say that I've not written any porn for a long time. I used to do it a bit, and enjoyed it, and I thought this might be a method to get more in touch with my own inner process. So if it's good, I hope you all enjoy it, and if you don't, well, maybe the next one will be better. This particular piece comes out of a chat rose and I had on a long car ride the other day, and stuck in my head a little.
Bunny was uncomfortably aware of herself. She was uncomfortably aware of the too-high heels digging into the backs of her thighs as she knelt. She was uncomfortably aware of the silk stockings squeezing softly at her freshly shaved legs. She was uncomfortably aware of the tightness of the top around the too-large breast forms and the tightness of the lace bra holding them in place. Of the corset, squeezing her waist into its proper place. Of the slight tickle of the bunny-tail butt plug filling her still-tight hole. Of her cock, struggling to get hard against the cage inside her matching lace panties.
But most of all, Bunny was uncomfortably aware of how far she had come in her transformation. She had come to this small house in the country two days ago as her old self, shy, awkward Brendan. Brendan had been offered the chance to learn things he had always dreamed about, yet only recently been able to admit to, and she was learning more than even those dreams had shown her.
Bunny had learned so much from Miss Rose. How to walk like a girl, with a sexy sashay. How to dress to best showcase her body. How to put on make up and make herself pretty. How to cook and clean like a good maid. But there was still so much to learn.
"Pay attention now, Bunny."
Mister Wyl's voice cut through her reverie, snapping Bunny back to the moment with a low, assertive rumble.
"You're here to learn, Bunny. So watch an expert at work."
Miss Rose was on her knees, naked in front of him. Her skin was flushed, the excited breath causing her perfect breasts to rise and fall with excitement, the nipples straining taught and hard at their tips, as she looked up to her owner.
"Here's your first lesson. See how excited rose is? See how she's practically drooling because she knows what's coming? That's the first secret. Don't just suck cock. Worship it. Love it. Admit that it's what you need."
Mister Wyl unzipped slowly, and Bunny saw Miss Rose gasp a little as his already-hard cock sprang free, bouncing off her lips. Bunny blushed hard as she realised she had gasped as well.
"I think that lesson's already sinking in", said Mister Wyl, his hand stroking through rose's hair. "Start, pet, show her what to do".
Bunny couldn't quite stifle the whisper of envy as Miss Rose's lips brushed against her Master's cock, making it twitch with pleasure. Miss Rose ran her tongue down the shaft and her lips back up it.
"Note, Bunny, how she starts slow, how she savours every moment of being allowed to worship my cock. Look at how her eyes stay up here on mine."
Mister Wyl put a hand behind her head, gripping her hair just a little, Forcing her slowly down, inch by hard inch.
"Keep watching, Bunny. Watch how she accepts it, watch how she understands her role is to bring me pleasure and nothing else."
Bunny couldn't take her eyes from the scene, at watching Miss Rose turn so easily from his instructor to her owner's willing cockslut. Bunny realised that this was who Miss Rose truly was, and whimpered with envy, wishing that she could accept it so easily.
Mister Wyl forced himself further down her throat and held himself there, choking rose with his cock. "Watch that dedication, Bunny. Gagging is nothing." He pinched Miss Rose's nose shut, keeping her pinned in place with one hand in her hair "Being choked is nothing."
Mister Wyl held her in pace as his eyes bored into Bunny's. "Worshipping cock is everything." He let himself slide from rose's mouth, and looked down at her. "Right, pet?"
Miss Rose gasped for breath, looking up at him, the blush spreading from her face to her whole body, cunt dripping. "Yes, Master."
"Good girl", growled Mister Wyl, allowing her to take back over, melting her mouth over his cock with a practiced motion, head bobbing with her hair still in Mister Wyl's hand.
Miss Rose's hand wrapped around her Master's cock, stroking it quickly with the tip still in her mouth.
"Watch how she knows exactly how to make me cum, Bunny. And note that she can't take her mouth away, even when she's using her hand. A perfect little cock worshipper. Watch and learn." He moaned, head rolling back, breath starting to become ragged.
Bunny felt her cock fighting against it's cage, felt her breath coming faster, watching with a sort of envied awe.
"And now the last part of the lesson", groaned Mister Wyl.
His cock twitched, shooting cum in thick, white arcs. The first few spurts landed on Miss Rose's upturned, expectant face, making her moan before she swallowed her Master's cock again, taking it all the way down her throat and sucking hard.
Mister Wyl's knees trembled and he steadied himself on Miss Rose, enjoying the feel of her contented moans around his shaft. Bunny watched, eyes wide as Mister Wyl's cock slid from his pet's mouth and she cleaned it delicately with her tongue, smiling up at him. His hand stroked her hair.
"Good girl. I'm sure Bunny found that very educational, pet."
Bunny moaned and shivered, goosebumps covering her skin. She knew now exactly what she wanted to become.
And was uncomfortably aware how badly she needed that dream to become reality.
Bunny was uncomfortably aware of herself. She was uncomfortably aware of the too-high heels digging into the backs of her thighs as she knelt. She was uncomfortably aware of the silk stockings squeezing softly at her freshly shaved legs. She was uncomfortably aware of the tightness of the top around the too-large breast forms and the tightness of the lace bra holding them in place. Of the corset, squeezing her waist into its proper place. Of the slight tickle of the bunny-tail butt plug filling her still-tight hole. Of her cock, struggling to get hard against the cage inside her matching lace panties.
But most of all, Bunny was uncomfortably aware of how far she had come in her transformation. She had come to this small house in the country two days ago as her old self, shy, awkward Brendan. Brendan had been offered the chance to learn things he had always dreamed about, yet only recently been able to admit to, and she was learning more than even those dreams had shown her.
Bunny had learned so much from Miss Rose. How to walk like a girl, with a sexy sashay. How to dress to best showcase her body. How to put on make up and make herself pretty. How to cook and clean like a good maid. But there was still so much to learn.
"Pay attention now, Bunny."
Mister Wyl's voice cut through her reverie, snapping Bunny back to the moment with a low, assertive rumble.
"You're here to learn, Bunny. So watch an expert at work."
Miss Rose was on her knees, naked in front of him. Her skin was flushed, the excited breath causing her perfect breasts to rise and fall with excitement, the nipples straining taught and hard at their tips, as she looked up to her owner.
"Here's your first lesson. See how excited rose is? See how she's practically drooling because she knows what's coming? That's the first secret. Don't just suck cock. Worship it. Love it. Admit that it's what you need."
Mister Wyl unzipped slowly, and Bunny saw Miss Rose gasp a little as his already-hard cock sprang free, bouncing off her lips. Bunny blushed hard as she realised she had gasped as well.
"I think that lesson's already sinking in", said Mister Wyl, his hand stroking through rose's hair. "Start, pet, show her what to do".
Bunny couldn't quite stifle the whisper of envy as Miss Rose's lips brushed against her Master's cock, making it twitch with pleasure. Miss Rose ran her tongue down the shaft and her lips back up it.
"Note, Bunny, how she starts slow, how she savours every moment of being allowed to worship my cock. Look at how her eyes stay up here on mine."
Mister Wyl put a hand behind her head, gripping her hair just a little, Forcing her slowly down, inch by hard inch.
"Keep watching, Bunny. Watch how she accepts it, watch how she understands her role is to bring me pleasure and nothing else."
Bunny couldn't take her eyes from the scene, at watching Miss Rose turn so easily from his instructor to her owner's willing cockslut. Bunny realised that this was who Miss Rose truly was, and whimpered with envy, wishing that she could accept it so easily.
Mister Wyl forced himself further down her throat and held himself there, choking rose with his cock. "Watch that dedication, Bunny. Gagging is nothing." He pinched Miss Rose's nose shut, keeping her pinned in place with one hand in her hair "Being choked is nothing."
Mister Wyl held her in pace as his eyes bored into Bunny's. "Worshipping cock is everything." He let himself slide from rose's mouth, and looked down at her. "Right, pet?"
Miss Rose gasped for breath, looking up at him, the blush spreading from her face to her whole body, cunt dripping. "Yes, Master."
"Good girl", growled Mister Wyl, allowing her to take back over, melting her mouth over his cock with a practiced motion, head bobbing with her hair still in Mister Wyl's hand.
Miss Rose's hand wrapped around her Master's cock, stroking it quickly with the tip still in her mouth.
"Watch how she knows exactly how to make me cum, Bunny. And note that she can't take her mouth away, even when she's using her hand. A perfect little cock worshipper. Watch and learn." He moaned, head rolling back, breath starting to become ragged.
Bunny felt her cock fighting against it's cage, felt her breath coming faster, watching with a sort of envied awe.
"And now the last part of the lesson", groaned Mister Wyl.
His cock twitched, shooting cum in thick, white arcs. The first few spurts landed on Miss Rose's upturned, expectant face, making her moan before she swallowed her Master's cock again, taking it all the way down her throat and sucking hard.
Mister Wyl's knees trembled and he steadied himself on Miss Rose, enjoying the feel of her contented moans around his shaft. Bunny watched, eyes wide as Mister Wyl's cock slid from his pet's mouth and she cleaned it delicately with her tongue, smiling up at him. His hand stroked her hair.
"Good girl. I'm sure Bunny found that very educational, pet."
Bunny moaned and shivered, goosebumps covering her skin. She knew now exactly what she wanted to become.
And was uncomfortably aware how badly she needed that dream to become reality.
Monday, January 19, 2015
Wrong
I don't know what's wrong with me. Well, it's more that I can't pick what's wrong with me from this long, long laundry list of options that's going around in my head.
And other times, like the last week or so, not so much.
I don't know why I'm so fragile, and I don't want to be. It's a shameful thing.
I don't relate well to my own feelings. They're like...a fracture. I can't feel it unless I touch it, but touching it hurts, so I don't touch it. In fact, I'm vaguely upset at the fact that they exist at all, not to mention my own lack of control over them. It's easier to just escape, withdraw, avoid. Pretend nothing bad is happening.
That's not healthy. It's destructive. I wouldn't care that much if it hurt just me, but it hurts the people around me and that's something I don't want.
Only problem is, what do I do? I can't change my entire psychology, can I? But I equally can't listen to the part of me that's always saying that this is what I deserve, that I was meant to be alone and that it's not fair for me to inflict my damage on others.
I don't want to give up, but it's very easy to think of myself as a lost cause. As on a pre-ordained trajectory that ends in well-deserved, lonely ignominy. As lacking the strength to overcome even my inconsequential problems.
This might all just be venting. The blogging equivalent of vomiting out the hangover from a binge of negative emotions. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow with my eyes clear again and able to see myself accurately, or maybe I'll just be deluding myself into thinking that my problems aren't so bad and getting on with things until the next time I undermine my marriage with nothing more than my own neuroses and some obsessive escapism.
For someone who spends so much time looking into himself, I'm awfully lacking in self awareness. It's like every time I look inside me, there's just a storm, and looking any deeper than the waves on top of it is too painful and difficult to be borne. So it's just wasted time and wasted energy, a distraction. Sartre would say that I was living in bad faith, Kierkegaard that I was living in despair.
My desire for structure wants me to give this a conclusion of some kind. There really isn't one because this issue isn't resolved. It's become an issue by the very fact of its irresolution. Of my irresolution. Of my own formlessness. These thoughts aren't concentrated into anything useful. but at least they're out, I guess.
I just want to be happy in myself, and to make the people I love happy. I don't understand why such a simple thing needs to be so difficult.
- I have no real sense of self or independent identity
- I'm indecisive
- I'm a weird combination of self-loathing and self-absorbed
- I'm highly anxious and averse to risk or conflict.
- I don't trust easily or communicate well
- I seem to sabotage every good thing in my life
- I have the emotional maturity and awareness of a severely autistic five year old
- Etc
- Etc
- Etc
And other times, like the last week or so, not so much.
I don't know why I'm so fragile, and I don't want to be. It's a shameful thing.
I don't relate well to my own feelings. They're like...a fracture. I can't feel it unless I touch it, but touching it hurts, so I don't touch it. In fact, I'm vaguely upset at the fact that they exist at all, not to mention my own lack of control over them. It's easier to just escape, withdraw, avoid. Pretend nothing bad is happening.
That's not healthy. It's destructive. I wouldn't care that much if it hurt just me, but it hurts the people around me and that's something I don't want.
Only problem is, what do I do? I can't change my entire psychology, can I? But I equally can't listen to the part of me that's always saying that this is what I deserve, that I was meant to be alone and that it's not fair for me to inflict my damage on others.
I don't want to give up, but it's very easy to think of myself as a lost cause. As on a pre-ordained trajectory that ends in well-deserved, lonely ignominy. As lacking the strength to overcome even my inconsequential problems.
This might all just be venting. The blogging equivalent of vomiting out the hangover from a binge of negative emotions. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow with my eyes clear again and able to see myself accurately, or maybe I'll just be deluding myself into thinking that my problems aren't so bad and getting on with things until the next time I undermine my marriage with nothing more than my own neuroses and some obsessive escapism.
For someone who spends so much time looking into himself, I'm awfully lacking in self awareness. It's like every time I look inside me, there's just a storm, and looking any deeper than the waves on top of it is too painful and difficult to be borne. So it's just wasted time and wasted energy, a distraction. Sartre would say that I was living in bad faith, Kierkegaard that I was living in despair.
My desire for structure wants me to give this a conclusion of some kind. There really isn't one because this issue isn't resolved. It's become an issue by the very fact of its irresolution. Of my irresolution. Of my own formlessness. These thoughts aren't concentrated into anything useful. but at least they're out, I guess.
I just want to be happy in myself, and to make the people I love happy. I don't understand why such a simple thing needs to be so difficult.
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
2014 Review
2014 was a weird year.
It started with migraines and ended with gastroenteritis, but in the middle there were some pretty good times. There were some bad ones, as well, but on balance it was an alright year in the personal world.
I've got to think that if you include all the stuff that happened in the world, and there seemed an unnecessarily large amount of it, maybe that would change. But this is a personal and kink blog, and I'm reviewing this in the light of my personal, kinky life.
In a way, the year kind of came full circle - we started out with a renewed dynamic, and we ended with a renewed dynamic. In the middle, there were times where it fell apart, and they weren't good. But as we close in on our second wedding anniversary, I feel like our relationship has never been stronger.
I think that's the real lesson I've taken from this year, across all the areas of my life. Persistence and an ability change the way you do things if the results displease you are the keys to doing things well. Being pleased with little steps and taking pride in them, rather than going for the big win or the quick fix. Not rushing things.
I don't really go in for new years resolutions, but if I did, these would be mine. Just to continue the way things are going- a slow, steady, upwards trend. Also, I'd like to lose about 10 more kilos, but that's neither really here nor there.
Seems like I should be paying more attention to the little things. This year was busy as fuck, we tried and did so many big and little things. Our holidays, our trip to OzKinkFest, trying watersports, all the scenes and fucking, and all the other moments and developments. It's honestly a blur, a lot of it, but it's a happy blur.
I look forwards to next year, and hope it's just as happy and less of a blur.
It started with migraines and ended with gastroenteritis, but in the middle there were some pretty good times. There were some bad ones, as well, but on balance it was an alright year in the personal world.
I've got to think that if you include all the stuff that happened in the world, and there seemed an unnecessarily large amount of it, maybe that would change. But this is a personal and kink blog, and I'm reviewing this in the light of my personal, kinky life.
In a way, the year kind of came full circle - we started out with a renewed dynamic, and we ended with a renewed dynamic. In the middle, there were times where it fell apart, and they weren't good. But as we close in on our second wedding anniversary, I feel like our relationship has never been stronger.
I think that's the real lesson I've taken from this year, across all the areas of my life. Persistence and an ability change the way you do things if the results displease you are the keys to doing things well. Being pleased with little steps and taking pride in them, rather than going for the big win or the quick fix. Not rushing things.
I don't really go in for new years resolutions, but if I did, these would be mine. Just to continue the way things are going- a slow, steady, upwards trend. Also, I'd like to lose about 10 more kilos, but that's neither really here nor there.
Seems like I should be paying more attention to the little things. This year was busy as fuck, we tried and did so many big and little things. Our holidays, our trip to OzKinkFest, trying watersports, all the scenes and fucking, and all the other moments and developments. It's honestly a blur, a lot of it, but it's a happy blur.
I look forwards to next year, and hope it's just as happy and less of a blur.
Friday, December 26, 2014
In Summer Rain
We took the dog for a walk, trying to get the blood pumping after a slightly over-gluttonous Christmas day.
The weather was a bit unsettled, as it often is in our neck of the woods through spring and early summer. As a consequence, we got soaked in a sudden fall of icy rain, running for the car, slipping and sliding on the muddy walking trail.
We got home, and stripped off our wet clothes. I don't know if you've ever seen rose in her underwear, hair wet, blood pumping from the cold rain and the dash for the car. But I can tell you, it's a pretty appealing sight.
I had to take her, and I did.
I took her to the bedroom, took off what was left on and threw her onto the bed.
I ate her tight little cunt until she gushed and came, moaning and shaking.
I pushed her down and slid into her, pinning her hands above her head, both her wrists in one of my hands, feeling her squeeze me each time I pressed down.
I fucked her. Harder. Faster. Called her my slut. My whore. My fuckdoll. My good little slavecunt.
My hand on her throat, eyes of a predator boring into her.
I tell her to cum.
She cums for me. I cum for her.
We flop into the bed, panting, shaking, her head tucked into my chest.
"I love you, Master."
"I love you, pet."
The weather was a bit unsettled, as it often is in our neck of the woods through spring and early summer. As a consequence, we got soaked in a sudden fall of icy rain, running for the car, slipping and sliding on the muddy walking trail.
We got home, and stripped off our wet clothes. I don't know if you've ever seen rose in her underwear, hair wet, blood pumping from the cold rain and the dash for the car. But I can tell you, it's a pretty appealing sight.
I had to take her, and I did.
I took her to the bedroom, took off what was left on and threw her onto the bed.
I ate her tight little cunt until she gushed and came, moaning and shaking.
I pushed her down and slid into her, pinning her hands above her head, both her wrists in one of my hands, feeling her squeeze me each time I pressed down.
I fucked her. Harder. Faster. Called her my slut. My whore. My fuckdoll. My good little slavecunt.
My hand on her throat, eyes of a predator boring into her.
I tell her to cum.
She cums for me. I cum for her.
We flop into the bed, panting, shaking, her head tucked into my chest.
"I love you, Master."
"I love you, pet."
Sunday, December 21, 2014
Training Wheels
I never really learned to ride a bike as a child. I mean, I tried to learn, but when I was about six or so I had a fairly bad accident and never quite got back on. Suited me, I was a lazy, uncoordinated kid anyway, and I seem to remember never really being comfortable on the bike anyway.
This is a very strange beginning to a blog about kink, but do bear with me, I'm pretty sure I've got a point.
Recently, Rose has been taking the dog for a ride with her on her bike. She rides, he trots along, I...stayed home. I decided that, bugger it, I'm going to come along, even if I can't ride a bike. So I bought an adult tricycle. After the massive headache of assembling the thing, and a period of adjustment to it, I've got to say it's pretty fun. My terrible balance isn't a handicap anymore, and I can get out with rose and our poodle and enjoy some good exercise and bond with both of them. It's nice, I enjoy it, we feel like a right little family.
Ok, now we're getting to the point. I promise.
The point I'm trying to make is that if there's something you want to do, find a way to do it, even if that method is unconventional. Even if it might make you feel slightly ridiculous at first. Because trust me, I look ridiculous on that trike. A large, overweight man with too much hair being pulled along on a giant tricycle by a tiny little miniature poodle? If I saw that on TV, I'd sure laugh.
But here's the thing. That's not important. Appearances aren't anything to worry about, and living up to other people's standards is a surefire path to misery.
Rose and I have been doing really well, lately. Our dynamic has been very good, as has our relationship. I think it's because I've found and embraced that third wheel. Found my balance. Started to come into myself as a Dom, and realise that the only standard, the only image I need to live up to is my own.
Attempting to be MasterLordDomlySir the Magnificent and Infallible, attempting to live up to an image that was unattainable, that's not who I am. It might work for some people, but it's not me- apologies to the old schoolers rolling their eyes at the young turk- and it doesn't have to be.
Because for the longest time, I wanted to be. I projected that on to rose. I would beat myself up for not living up to what she wanted, when really what she wanted was for me to be happy in myself. Which of course gave me great excuses not to try, or to try and then beat myself up when I failed.
Now I'm just being me, and it turns out that when I'm just allowing myself to do what comes naturally instead of trying to live up to an ideal, it just...works.
I'm not MasterLordDomlySir the Magnificent and Infallible.
I'm just Master me. Not magnificent. Not infallible. Just happy and fulfilled.
That, as it turns out, is a lot better.
This is a very strange beginning to a blog about kink, but do bear with me, I'm pretty sure I've got a point.
Recently, Rose has been taking the dog for a ride with her on her bike. She rides, he trots along, I...stayed home. I decided that, bugger it, I'm going to come along, even if I can't ride a bike. So I bought an adult tricycle. After the massive headache of assembling the thing, and a period of adjustment to it, I've got to say it's pretty fun. My terrible balance isn't a handicap anymore, and I can get out with rose and our poodle and enjoy some good exercise and bond with both of them. It's nice, I enjoy it, we feel like a right little family.
Ok, now we're getting to the point. I promise.
The point I'm trying to make is that if there's something you want to do, find a way to do it, even if that method is unconventional. Even if it might make you feel slightly ridiculous at first. Because trust me, I look ridiculous on that trike. A large, overweight man with too much hair being pulled along on a giant tricycle by a tiny little miniature poodle? If I saw that on TV, I'd sure laugh.
But here's the thing. That's not important. Appearances aren't anything to worry about, and living up to other people's standards is a surefire path to misery.
Rose and I have been doing really well, lately. Our dynamic has been very good, as has our relationship. I think it's because I've found and embraced that third wheel. Found my balance. Started to come into myself as a Dom, and realise that the only standard, the only image I need to live up to is my own.
Attempting to be MasterLordDomlySir the Magnificent and Infallible, attempting to live up to an image that was unattainable, that's not who I am. It might work for some people, but it's not me- apologies to the old schoolers rolling their eyes at the young turk- and it doesn't have to be.
Because for the longest time, I wanted to be. I projected that on to rose. I would beat myself up for not living up to what she wanted, when really what she wanted was for me to be happy in myself. Which of course gave me great excuses not to try, or to try and then beat myself up when I failed.
Now I'm just being me, and it turns out that when I'm just allowing myself to do what comes naturally instead of trying to live up to an ideal, it just...works.
I'm not MasterLordDomlySir the Magnificent and Infallible.
I'm just Master me. Not magnificent. Not infallible. Just happy and fulfilled.
That, as it turns out, is a lot better.
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