Is it safe to blog when cum drunk?

He undressed in front of me. I sat on the couch fully clothed. I wonder in moments like this if I should eagerly jump off and strip, too…or wait for His direction.

I waited for His direction. He stroked his cock in front of me.

“You’re making my pussy wet,” I state.

“It doesn’t take much to make your pussy wet,” He replies.

True.

He stands in front of me, and I start sucking. I love the feel of His cock on the back of my throat. I relax my jaw as He pumps and fucks my mouth.

He tells me to strip and points me toward the bedroom.

As soon as He enters me, my body tingles. It’s hard to describe the feeling of completeness I have when He’s inside me.

I ask to cum pretty quickly. He says no and, ” what about foreplay?” Yes, I want to linger and not cum so quickly but I also feel the orgasm welling up inside me; I don’t want to mistakenly cum without permission.

He teases and sucks and slaps my nipples and breasts. He bites soft and harder. I’m lingering on that edge, and with each breath to help hold myself back the intensity builds.

“Do you want to cum?”

“yes”

“You may cum.”

The first one starts, and the wonderful, luscious roller coaster begins.

He suck my nipples…”May I cum?” Yes…

He fucks my pussy fast and hard…”May I cum?” Yes…

He rests His cock in my pussy while biting me….”May I cum?” Yes…

At one point instead of asking, I declared, “I’m going to cum.” He didn’t acknowledge me with a yes, so I rephrased, “May I cum?” Yes…

He moves around the bed and puts His balls in my face. I lick and suck while He fingers my clit, then fingers my pussy. I asked to cum, and did so both times including squirting over His hand.

He rolled over, and I licked his nipples. He pulled my hair tightly as He was about to cum himself. “Swallow my cum,” He says and I move my mouth onto His cock just as He cums in mouth.

My body just buzzed afterwards…and I am still glowing hours later.

“You asked every time,” He said afterwards with a pleased tone of satisfaction.

As He walked out the door, I thanked Him for all the orgasms. He suggested that might have to last me as my freedom to masturbate freely (which I’ve had for several weeks now) may be coming to an end.

I caress my body and slowly tease my nipples as I smile both in deep satisfaction and in joyful anticipation of His next command.

I got my haircut last week. I’ve been not-quite-completely-happy with the style for a while now. The past three times I’ve gone to get it cut, I’ve consulted  Master on his thoughts about my hair. He’s given his opinion, but he’s more fine with the style than I have been. I think I’ve also been driving him a little bit crazy with the details of how to change it. Ultimately, I know what he wants: shoulder length for easy grabbing, no bangs and overall flattering.

It’s fun for me to send him a pic after my haircuts. I find it playful…everything from me doing many takes trying to get a good self-portrait of myself with the cell phone to getting his response.

When I sent a picture this time, it was – of course – only of my face. We had, however, discussed the length of the back of my hair. When he replied, he said, “Hmmm….I want to see the back now ” Master will be directive – even commanding – when he wants to be, but his style of dominance is more along the lines of stating his preferences or desires and me being aware enough to act to fulfill his desires. So, even though he didn’t say, “Take a picture of the back,” I knew this is what I must do.

I have to admit, though, my instinctive, first response was, “He’ll have to come to my house to see it” – not in defiance but more because taking a picture of my face with the cell phone is hard enough let alone one of the back of my head! But, I also knew that is not what he was saying. He knew he could come by. He even knew it would be difficult for me take a picture of the back of my head. Yet for all those complications, his desire was simple and clear.

So, into the bathroom I go where I used a hand mirror and the sink mirror to take a picture of the back of my head. It was indeed awkward to hold the mirror just right and then hold the cell phone to take a picture of the hand mirror…but it worked! I sent the picture off to Master. I admitted my first reaction to him, but said I knew he wouldn’t appreciate a smart mouth saying, “you’ll need to come over and see it” and so I just figured out a way to take the picture.

He called me shortly after receiving the pic and said my reaction was exactly like he’d expected…that I’d balk at first but then just do it. We laughed, and he said I’d done well.

I felt happy that I’d pleased him, but I also reflect on my reaction and realize there is a part of me that still “fights.” This interaction about my hair was lighthearted but that “fight” also appears in our more serious discussions.

It’s hard for me to imagine outright defying him but there are these moments of resistance – and depending on the subject or aspect of my life – the resistance is deeper than I admit to myself. It seems so ironic since my desire is to be owned and to be owned by Him runs so deep…but ultimately I guess resistance is just human nature shining through. The emphasis on our individuality is so rooted in our culture and even in our primal instincts. As if that’s not hard enough to overcome, though, we also have warped senses of individuality. Our identities get so wrapped up in the way we see ourselves and are complicated by the beliefs we adopt based on past experiences. As much as I may know those warped views of myself are not me and I say I want to let those mis-beliefs go, there is that part of me that holds on because it is the only identity I have really ever known.

Every time I serve my Master – no matter how big or small the task – I feel that old identity breaking down and my true essence shining through. I’ve chipped away – even blasted through – many walls of resistance and mis-beliefs about myself in my quest to be who I AM. Yet as I get closer and closer to the core, the fight and the panic seems to get bigger and more overhwhelming. I hold onto the old even though the only comfort it brings me is familiarity. I fear my deepest desire because I only have glimpses of how I will be. Sometimes when it seems so overwhelming, I question the path…and sometimes I even question Master (even if I do so politely).

In the stillness and the quiet, I take a step back from the panic and realize that I will never reach my heart’s desire if I try to fight every time I meet my own resistance. I will just be forever slaying demons that way. Instead, I know what I want…and I know what He wants…and I surrender.

What is black and white and red all over? Not a newspaper…my ass!

“What are you doing?” He asked me on a Monday afternoon. I’d just finished a project before he called. I did have a to-do list that I rattled off to him, but I knew he’d just left his office and was near my house. I wondered if he wanted to come over…I wanted him to come over.

“It sounds like you’re busy,” He says as my heart drops. I laughed a little bit on the inside, though….did he really expect me to say I was doing nothing on a workday afternoon?

He did come over. I was cleaning up a bit before he arrived. I’d had my body brush out scratching an itch on my back the day before. I was going to put it away when I thought he might like to use it.

He wanted me to lick his balls. I could do that all day long. I love the feel of my tongue on the delicate skin…taking each ball into my mouth as I suck ever so gently. His moans make my pussy wet as I take my tongue from the bottom of his balls and lick all the way up to the shaft. I run my lips around the head of his cock before I take it into my mouth. I position myself so he can see my hanging breasts and I rub them against him while I take his cock as deeply as I can into my throat. I’m bound and determined to deep throat him someday. He grabs my hair to help me take it deeper.

He asks me if I’m ready for him to fuck my ass. “Of course!” I said glibly. While it has been a long time since he’s done that to me, I’d been able to take his big cock into my ass before.

Before he fucks my ass, he takes that body brush and starts whacking my ass. Oh man it hurt! I writhe and yelp with every stroke. “Stay put,” He commands even though I’m wanting to crawl up the bed and away. He only needed to tell me once, and I focused on taking every stroke. It felt better when he turned and used the brush side – that gave a bit of pleasure mixed with the pain. The backside of the brush though just plain hurt!

“There’s lube in my nightstand,” I said with my ass in the air as I wondered for a brief moment if he would try without it. He took out a brand new bottle but I pointed him to the used bottle that was also in there. He got a glimpse into my goodie drawer…and some new toys I’ve acquired since he last saw it.

“A slut is always prepared,” I commented.

“Not always,” He said.

“Your slut is always prepared,” I corrected myself.

“Yes,” He said with a little chuckle.

He used one of my toys to help stretch me a bit. I was surprised how much it hurt! He then started to slide his thick cock into my tight ass. I tried to relax to take him in. I always want of feel all of his cock inside of me – whichever hole he chooses to use.

I’d take as much as I could and then tell him to stop. He’d let me pause a moment before pushing again. At one point he asked me if I was OK, and I said yes even though my body was saying differently. I had brief flashes to times when he was able to fuck my ass balls deep and realized we’d have to work back up to that. He pulled out as I sighed a bit of disappointment… which didn’t last for long.

After washing, he invited me into in his arms. I instinctively took one of his nipples into my mouth and then looked up at him and asked if he wanted me to lick his nipples. He pointed out to me that I didn’t ask first, and I apologized and asked permission. I licked his nipples while he masturbated. The very first night we slept together I instinctively licked his nipples while he masturbated. I remember him telling me how special I was for doing that. To this day, it is one of my favorite things to do…especially when he grabs my hair and directs where he wants my mouth to be.

Just as he was about to come, I took his cock into my mouth and swallowed every drop. I love how he tastes, and I love making sure not a drop is wasted.

I laid in his arms and he wondered how I’d take a cane if I writhed and yelped so much with “just a brush.” I laughed and asked if he thought I was being too dramatic. He did seem to think my reaction was out-of-proportion. He said I needed to be able to take 50 strokes.

Before he left, he took the brush and spanked me again – hard and fast. When he finished, he said that was 25. Honestly, I wasn’t counting and just enjoyed the air on my stinging skin as I tried to catch my breath.

As we lingered at the door, I don’t remember what I said but he replied, “I’ll get the brush again.” I gave him a smart look with my eyes, and he walked back to the bedroom. I leaned over the couch, and this time counted in my mind every single stroke. It hurt even more given that my skin was already stinging from the other 25. As I received #25, I turn around on the verge of tears and trying to catch my breath. “Next time you’ll count outloud,” He said as he hugged me.

We took the picture the next day. I’m still trying to reconcile how my reactions to the brush could be out-of-proportion given the bruises I was sporting!! While he has spanked me fairly recently, I have not had regular beatings. I imagine in some small way it is like getting waxed. The first time you’re waxed it just hurts like hell! After a while, it still hurts but your tolerance increases.

I realize that a lot of what excites me when he spanks me is the mix of pleasure and pain (as he soothes my skin in between strokes)…which didn’t happen with the brush. Nevertheless, enduring the pain and knowing that pleases Him still excites me. I experienced a lot of pleasure walking around in the days following knowing my ass had all these beautiful bruises…and watching them fade is bittersweet. I like being marked as His. He says he wants to take me the verge of crying…and then take me further to where I can’t help but cry. I have no doubt He will…and I look forward to it.

“Beware the fury of a patient man.” - John Dryden

I dreamed you had the patience of a prayer:
You let me memorize your open hand
Before you closed your fist around my hair.

I read a warning written down somewhere:
“Beware the fury of a patient man.”
I dreamed you had the patience of a prayer.

I’ll swear to the truth if you’ll take a dare
Plead guilty if you’ll force me to take the stand,
And close a knowing fist around my hair.

Yours is the rhythm of a rocking chair:
Steady as an hour glass spilling sand.
I dreamed your patience would make saints despair.

I’ve yearned to cringe beneath your level stare.
My wish has been to be at your command —
To kiss the iron fist around my hair.

I’ve waited for years searching everywhere
But only you have made me understand:
Patience in a slave is itself a prayer,
And answered by your fist around my hair.

From the book Meeting the Master by Elissa Wald