Sunday, January 27, 2008

Command.... (nikki)

My desire functions in a different way when I am submissive. The very
act of being submissive is arousing. Thinking of myself this way, as
an object, a slave, a toy, gives me a strong sexual feeling. My
vagina seems to expand, to open, I feel the moisture flow into it. My
nipples tingle. I feel a pressure at the base of my spine. I am
aroused.

Seeing my Master; choosing to go to him, and then actually going to
him -- finding whatever small scrap of privacy I can find, logging
into the computer, and finally seeing him – the whole process reminds
me of my submission. It reminds me that I am making the decision to
go to him, to give myself to him. That I am his, that he controls me.

So by the time I see him, I am already vibrating with sexual energy.
Even if I am in a bad mood, or my stomach hurts, or I'm tired, one of
the steps in the process will trigger the feelings and by the time I
see his face, my arousal is already tingling through my body.

And then! Then I see the arousal in his face. I see him look at me
with greed, his need to own me flowing through his expression. He
looks at me and the arousal expands further still in me. I don't need
to touch, to rub, to stimulate. Seeing him look at me like this, and
I know I am his. Totally and completely his. His beyond anything I
have ever known, but his like I have always wanted to be. The wetness
surges in my cunt, his cunt as he reminds me, and I am right on the
verge, totally ready to go over.

Finally he shows me that he wants me to cum. He can do this with his
hand, lifting it and showing it to me, reminding me that he can claim
me at will, and then lowering it, as if to put it right in my crotch.
As I see him move his arm down and forward, making the motion he would
make if he really could lift his fingers up and into me, I know what
he wants. And I know he can have it. Or he can do it with just a
look. Staring at me intensely, I know what he wants. And I know he
can have it.

It is a positively reinforcing cycle. He sees me react to his look,
and it effects him. I see the arousal build in him, and it brings me
even closer to orgasm. He sees that and his intensity grows further.
And that pushes me over the edge, my body spasming, the pleasure
washing over me.

The orgasm comes without any physical stimulation. It's not as strong
or as intense as when I do touch myself. But it is clearly an orgasm.
My vagina contracts. I can feel the moisture ooze. And when I do
touch myself after, I am wet. So wet. It is lovely. Magical.
Wonderful. We do it every day, and I hope we will keep doing it
forever.

Friday, January 4, 2008

Michelle's...collaring story

A Collaring Story

She sat perched on the window sill, gazing out into the starry night. Her long thick hair draped over one shoulder as she leisurely ran her fingers through it. The air in the small room in which she sat was cool, making her nipples harden against the thin fabric of her navy blue robe.
She knew why she was there. This was the night she had waited for, worked for, sacrificed for for a very long time. There was no place she would have preferred to be than here, waiting. The anticipation was almost too much for her, she was crawling out of her skin, though she would never show it.
Turning her head back to the room, she wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her head against them. Her eyes roamed the small dimly lit room taking it all in, making sure that everything was in its place as she was told to do.
A bed with its plush coverings turned down was against one wall with a small end table on its left side. On the table she had placed a single red candle, which let off a soft yellow glow and a small wooden oblong box with her name engraved on the top. Not far from the bed on the other wall, she had pulled out one of the chairs from under the small seating table so it faced the middle of the room. In front of the chair, there was a small pink cushion. On the table she had several more of the little red candles and short flat box.
She wondered about that box and what it might contain. It had been sealed shut so that it would be obvious if it had been opened. Her fingers itched to open it, but she knew better than to do that. She would just have to be patient and wait.
The sound of the door opening and then closing softly drew her away from her thoughts. Looking up, she saw a man coming into the room and walking towards her.
He was a tall man with broad shoulders and gentle green eyes. His shoulder-length hair was smoothed back behind his ears and secured. She shuddered involuntarily as she thought about those arms of his around her and his hands upon her body.
“Do you not greet me, little one?” he asked softly, as his large hand came out to touch her cheek gently, just barely touching her soft skin.
Her breath caught in her throat for a moment, before she could whisper, “Forgive me, Sir. I was lost in my own thoughts.”
He looked thoughtful for a moment, still lightly stroking her cheek. “Tell me of your thoughts.”
She smiled softly. “I was wondering what you have planned for us tonight.” She paused for a moment, looking up into his eyes. “And what would possibly in that box on the table.”
He chuckled to himself, a soft rumbling sound coming from deep in his chest. Tipping her head back, he lightly brushed her lips with his own. Her lips parted slightly under his as he breathed in her breathe.
From the simple touch, her whole body tingled; craving, wanting more. He pulled away from her and strode over to the chair by the small dining table. Her eyes followed him the entire way and as he lounged back in the chair.
There was something about his presence that just set her on fire. She yearned to please him, to make him happier because her own happiness was derived from his. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for him.
He silently indicated for her to come closer. Sliding off the windowsill, she softly tread over the soft carpet until she stood before him. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks when she saw his gaze drift down to her nipples, which were straining against her robe.
He licked his lips. “Undress for me,” he commanded softly. “And be sexy.”
Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly as she took hold of the belt on her. Her nerves were awake with sensation and she didn’t know why. It wasn’t like this was the first time he was going to see her naked or had ordered her to undress. There was something in his eyes that night, which she could not quite figure it out.
The second she closed her eyes, she heard him say roughly, “Keep your eyes open.”
Snapping her eyes open, she looked deeply into his as she lightly trailed her hands down her body. Taking the belt into her hand again, she untied the knot and forcibly pulled it out from it loops. Her robe fell open slightly, giving him a perfect view of her flat stomach and the top of her bare sex. Leaning forward she hooked the belt around his neck, her breasts dangerously close to his face. But she backed off, sliding her hand under the robe she slide it off her shoulders, until she was completely naked before his eyes.
A distinctly aroused groan came from him, causing her to smile softly to herself.
“Come closer and turn around, baby.”
With her head lowered she moved closer to him and obeyed. He lightly trailed her fingertips over the bare skin of her side before taking her hand in his and bringing them behind her back. Pulling the robe belt from around his neck, he wrapped it around her wrists, binding them together.
She tried to pull on her bounds, seeing how well he had tied her. There was no way she was going to get lose, and that idea alone aroused her more.
She didn’t have much time to think as he turned her around with his hands on her hips and with a slight pressure urged her down to her knees. The cushion was soft under her knees as she spread them slightly, just the way he liked them. The hairs on her arms stood on end, as she felt the cool air of the room caress her heated flesh.
He leaned forward in his chair, and gently cupped her cheeks in his big hands. The desire she saw in his eyes fluttered in her chest as he brushed his lips over the tip of her nose, teasing her. Pulling back from her, he rested his forearms against his thighs.
“My dear, there is something I want to talk to you about tonight,” he began softly. “I want you to be completely open and honest with me. Is that understood?”
“Yes Sir,” she whispered, never taking her eyes from his.
In a very straight-forward tone he asked, “Are you happy with me?”
Was he really asking her this? She almost couldn’t believe it.
“Of course Sir. I have never been this happy.”
His lips twitched slightly as he reached out and briefly caressed her cheek with a single finger tip.
“Have I been good to you?”
“Better than I deserve.”
“You deserve so much more, little one. You mean the world to me and I love being able to sit here with you naked and willing at my feet.”
“And I love being here Sir. There is no other place I would rather be.” She spoke honestly and from her heart. There was not a word there that wasn’t true.
“I know, my dear. That is why I want to make you mine permanently.”
She gasped in surprise and struggled with her bonds, wanting to throw herself into his arms.
As tears welled into her eyes, he rose from his seat and moved behind her. She was most surprised when he untied her wrists, slid his arms around her body and retied her wrists in front of her body.
With her heart pounding in her chest, she watched him settle back into his chair. He took her bound hands into his own, holding them warm and comfortable.
Looking deeply into her eyes as if he could see into her very soul, he spoke in a calm but strong tone. “I love you so much. Your sweet submission means so much to me and I yearn for the time we can spend together. I want to have you at my feet and by my side always. You are my dear friend, my lover, and now I want you to be my slave. Will you wear my collar?”
Her mouth went dry. She couldn’t believe he had just asked her that. It was the one thing she had been waiting for for a long time. Now it was here and she didn’t know what to say.
Her eyes wide, she slowly nodded her head.
“Say the words, love,” he gently urged her.
“I would be honored to wear your collar, Sir,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Then with a confidence she didn’t know she had, she continued to speak words that seemed to come out of thin air. “I love you with my whole heart. I give myself to you freely and without inhibition to guide me and dominate me. You are my friend, my lover and now you are going to be more.”
Their eyes were still focused on each other, both with tears. Taking one of his hands from hers, he reached to the box on the table. He deftly broke the seal and opened the box. She craned her neck to see if she could catch a glimpse of what was inside, but to no avail. He set her hands back down on her lap for a moment.
Reaching into the box, he presented her with the most beautiful collar she had ever seen. It was made of smooth black leather lined with royal blue suede. He opened the small buckle of the back of the collar, and leaning forward slipped it around her neck.
A jolt went through her body as she felt this symbol of his ownership and his love close around her neck. With shaking hands, she raised her bound wrists and lightly ran her fingertips of the butter-smoothness of the leather and trace around the d-ring on the front.
He patted his thigh, inviting her to him. Without a second thought, she rose to her feet and seated herself on his lap, snuggling into his chest. He wound one of his arms around her waist, pulling her closer and his other hand cupped the back of her head. His heat radiated through the thin fabric of his shirt warming her body.
She tilted her head back, exposing the collar around her neck as he pressed his lips against hers, kissing her soft and deeply. She was lost in the feeling of his lips, the passion and yearning behind his kisses.
“My slave,” he whispered against her lips.
Then the one name she had craved to call him for a very long time, slipped from her lips, “Master.”

Michelle's beating fantasy

He had tied me completely naked to that chair and left me there for several long moments. My wrists bound to the back of the chair, my bare breasts pressed against the seat, my thighs against the legs, my knees bound to the foot of the chair. There was no getting out of it; moving, even the thought of moving was impossible. No light was allowed in the door, the lamps being off and the curtains drawn, just the warm glow of the fire before me. It warmed my face as I gazed at it through the back of the chair.
I could feel his presence as he returned to the room a couple minutes later. I knew where he had gone and why, as I heard a soft thud on a side table which stood next to me. My gaze never waivered from the fire until he came to kneel in front of me. He reached his hand through the bars of the chair and gently cupped my cheek, looking me deeply in the eyes.
My Master. I trusted him with my whole heart, and my body was his for the taking. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for him, all I had was his and in return he gave me everything that was within his power to give me.
His eyes searched mine, looking for any sign of hesitation or fear.
“Are you sure you want this, my slave?” he asked softly.
“Yes Master,” I replied evenly, my lips curving up into a gently smile.
He ran the backs of his fingers over my cheek again before pulling away and standing up.
Anticipation shot through me as I felt him come to stand behind me. A surprised squeak sprung from my lips when a resounding slap was delivered to the right cheek of my up-turned ass. I could feel the tingling outline of his hand. Before I could recover from the first slap, I received another one in the same exact place making it hurt a little bit more.
He slapped the other side of my ass twice, hard, like he had to the other one, before he grabbed two handful of my round bottom. He gripped it hard, squeezing, his nails biting into my soft flesh. I tried to keep my breathing even as I could feel my bottom begin to heat up.
I rested my forehead against the cool wood of the chair, my gasps growing louder with each resounding smack to my tingling ass. This wasn’t any different from any spanking I had received before, until he took a handful of my hair and painfully pulled my head back.
I could feel his hot breath on my neck and his silky smooth voice in my ear.
“Are you ready, my love?” He asked gently.
I swallowed hard before slowly shaking my head. In an instant he pushed my head back against the seat and smacked my ass again.
I sucked in my breath when I felt the leather-tongue of my Master’s riding crop trail down my spine, over my ass to my thighs. He nudged the handle against my aching crotch for a moment, before tapping it against my thighs.
Without warning, he brought the crop down hard against my shoulder blades. A scream ripped from my throat as I felt the burn and the sting, a welt around forming. He gave me almost no time to recover from the first blow before he delivered another to my lower back and then to my already burning ass.
I bit down on my lower lip as he continued to assault my back and ass with forceful painful blows without pause. He groaned and grunted under his efforts and I could smell his sweat. He ignored my screams until they turned into broken sobs. The crop dropped to the floor with a soft thud. The tears streamed down my cheeks and clouded my vision, but I felt him untie me and pull him into his arms.
I hissed as the pain shot through me again as his arms came around me, holding me tight. He buried his nose in my hair and I buried my face into his neck. I didn’t have the strength to move just to surrender to the fell of his arms. My tears wetted the front of his shirt and I could feel his body shaking with emotion. The sobbing slowly subsided into soft whimpers.
He gently tilted my head up to look into his face. He too had tears in his eyes as he slowly brought his lips down to mine, kissing me gently but full of love and possession.
“Thank you Master,” I whispered.
“Don’t ever make me do that again,” he replied before kissing me again.

Thursday, January 3, 2008

Michelle's poem

Master…
Lying on his back
Looking down at me
Flames of desire leaping in his eyes

His hands…
Buried in my hair
Guiding me
Showing me
How he wants to be pleased

His cock…
Hard and pulsing
Thrusting deep
Pushing into the back of my throat

My mouth…
Sucking
Gagging
Swallowing
Wanting more and more

My mouth becoming his toy
Another warm wet place
Tongue playing with the hard flesh
Savoring the feeling

Wednesday, January 2, 2008

nikki's essay

My desire to submit surprises me. It goes against everything I've
been taught, is in stark contrast to what I've become as a woman, and
is not what I teach my daughter. Yet, it calls to me with a strength
that cannot be resisted. It reaches deep into me and touches
something essential. It is powerful and oh, so pleasurable. So, I
succumb and I give myself to the "safe" on-line Mster, my desire for
something more outweighed by my fear. Each day I am surprised, but
also fulfilled, so each tomorrow I come back for more.

My feminist credentials are unassailable. I have a degree in women's
studies. I've read Andrea Dworken, Mary Daly, Camille Paglia, and
Simone de Beauvoir. I know about false consciousness and patriarchal
culture. So I know the risks of submission, I understand the dangers.
I know that a desire to submit has led women to put themselves in
situations where they had no power, no rights, no choices. Where they
were forced to stay in relationships, stay when the submission turned
into abuse, but there was no way out.

My mother raised me to make sure I didn't fall victim to this impulse.
She insisted that I take responsibility for my own life – learn to
drive, to balance my check book, and made sure I had financial
independence. She taught me not to wait for a Prince, but to stand on
my own two feet. And it worked – I have a graduate degree in business
and run a division of a large multinational company. I make more
money than 99% of men in America. I could support my family on my own
if I needed to.

Nevertheless, the drive is there. I don't need to, but I want to
submit. I want to give myself over. I want to kneel at his feet. I
want to obey his orders. I want to have sex at his command, open my
mouth, my cunt, my asshole. I want to cum when he tells me to. I
want to do whatever he asks, no matter how gross; open my legs, spread
my ass-cheeks, pee in my own mouth, drink it, show him my dirty
tampon, anything. I want him to give me to strangers.

What does it do for me? What is the attraction?

1) It takes away responsibility. I have so much in my life –
responsible for employees, for clients, for children, for parents, for
my husband. I am the provider. The worrier. The caregiver. But not
in my "sub-space". Here I give myself over and I have nothing to
worry about.
2) It proves my desirability, and not for the things I am most
confident in. I know I'm smart, quick, verbal. But in sub-space none
of that matters, here I am just sex.
3) It puts me in the position of being cared for. Here, I am
childlike, animal, an object to be cherished and watched over.
4) It gives me the opportunity to please. In sub-space I can
demonstrate in extremely tangible ways my love and be appreciated for
it.

Being submissive gives me sexual pleasure, yes. Intense sexual
pleasure. But I get lots of pleasure from regular sex too. With
submission, I am in a constant state of arousal, the pleasure just
right below the surface, ready to bubble up and over. Beyond that it
makes me feel feminine and beautiful in a way I have never felt
beautiful before. I glow. The best part? I feel calm and at peace.
Relaxed. Comfortable. Wonderful. It feels like a warm blanket.
Like the moment when the anesthesia hits the pain. Like a shot of
tequila.

So I do it. Again and again. But in this safe way. I have a Master
with no REAL power. No economic power – he can't withhold material
comfort from me. No physical power – he can't hold me down or put a
gun to my head. No legal power – he can't get custody of my children
or rob me of my possessions. He only has the power I give him.
Symbolic power. He can move my avatar, leash me, command me. But I
can log off anytime. Shut down the computer, and it's over and I
don't ever have to come back. So it is "safe" – I can experience the
wonder without the threat.

But I want more. I let him into my life little by little. I show him
my physical manifestation, perform for him, I dress for him, report to
him. And I want even more. If I could, I would give him all of it.
I don't know how else to explain it. It just is.

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