don't love me (nikki)

Don't love me

Sure, I like it
You are always happy to see me
Make time for me
Notice the little things:
new haircut, new dress, sparkle in my eye
Happy for my success
Proud of me, even in my failure.

But no
Don't love me

Don't obligate me
Let me be selfish
Come to You when I wish
Not because You are waiting

Please
Don't love me

Let me run from man to man,
None of them important
None of them irreplaceable
If one isn't interested-
there's a thousand more

Oh, please
Don't love me

Don't make me want more than I can have
Or ask me for more than I can give
I need safety and security,
my children and my parents
security for the long run
That which You can't give

No
Don't love me

Take me
Fuck me
Use me
Shove Your cock down my throat for my pleasure
But don't hold me in Your arms and whisper sweet nothings in my ear
Don't warm my soul and then send me home
Please
Don't love me

Let me yearn for You
Wish, hope, want
Let me fantasize and imagine
Stay steady, just beyond my grasp

But no
Don't love me
Look at me with cold, dispassionate eyes
Evaluate me
Assess me
Give me the truth

Want me, but no
Don't love me.
What happens if You do?
Then what?
We keep wanting more
More
More
At some point, there is no more
Then what?
We have to stop?

Oh please. Please.
Don't love me

waxing for Master (nikki)

decided to go take care of a little personal grooming since today was
a slightly less intense day... went to my favorite little vietnamese
salon. always a little erotic, but knowing that i'm going to share it
with you adding a whole new dimension...

started with eyebrow waxing. In a little room, lying on a contoured
table, my lower back supported. beautiful (but not very friendly,
kind of sturn actually) vietnamese woman hovering over me, gently
touching my face, smoothing my eyebrows. I try to relax as she brings
scissors close to my eyes, touching and trimming the longer hairs.
it's actually quite relaxing.

then it is time for the wax. she applies it with a little wooden
stick, like a tongue depressor... goes on HOT, on the edge of feeling
like it is burning me. then tightening. actually feels kind of nice
as it cools, like a hug. And then she takes a little piece of cloth
and pushes it into the wax rubbing. this feels good too. gentle
pressure.

but then... she has to rip the wax off! ooo, it hurts! a ripping,
burning feeling. can feel the spot where each root has been ripped
from the skin. and the pain lingers. she presses her hand down,
helps a little, but it is still intense. breathe into it. and she's
moving on to the next spot, coating with the hot wax, rubbing...

and then she is done and it is time to do the bikini area. i've been
shaving the lips, but the mound gets razor burn really easily, so I
prefer waxing. and I want to look pretty for you for Monday... i've
been letting it grow for about a week, it's long enough now.

I mention that it was lopsided last time and she says "it's better if
you take underwear off..." in her pidgen English. it's true, last
time she just pushed my panties to the side, my legs open in a diamond
shape... but now she wants me to spread myself, exposed.

I think of you, and how much you will enjoy me describing the whole
experience and I remove my panties.

but the description will have to wait... i'm typing with my thumbs and
I have run out of time...

Imagining you waiting to hear the rest… hard at work… thinking of me,
as I described… mmmm.

Sooo, where was I. Oh, yes, I had just removed my panties. So I take
them off, lie back down on the table, legs spread, feet together, open
(but not totally open, just a little open)…

She takes a handful of baby powder and rubs me with it, professional,
but still shocking to feel somebody touch me there… her hand warm and
firm, the flesh feeling springy under her touch. She touches the
mound, but also moves further down, applying powder to my lips, not
really spread, but slightly parted. I breathe into the experience,
recording each sensation and feeling in my mind.

I can see her examining me, looking at the length of the hairs,
deciding how to best apply the wax. She is business like, unsmiling.
Stern, yes. She turns away to get the first application of wax, and I
lie there, acutely aware of how exposed I am, what this must look
like. How close this is to my fantasy.

And then the hot wax is going on. She has one hand on my inner thigh,
holding the flesh away from the crease, the other applying the wax
right at the edge, where my leg goes into my crotch. Hot. Doesn't
feel quite as hot as on my face, but the warmth is seeping into me.
Again the warmth feels good – although the anticipation of the pain
makes it hard to enjoy. Then she is rubbing, pushing the cloth into
the wax with her fingers, creating a solid bond, getting ready to rip
it. Strange feeling, the rubbing. So intimate, so personal. My
whole body moving as she pushes into my crotch… hmmm, what does THAT
evoke????

And then the first rip. Ooooo. Even more painful than on my face.
Feels like the hairs are being ripped out of my uterus. Blinding red
pain. Breathe into it. Relax into it. Let it wash over me. Think
of it as a gift. She is holding her fingers to the spot she ripped,
applying pressure, soothing it. Again, a strange feeling to have her
fingers there, me open, exposed. Objectified. That's what it is, she
is professional, and I am just an object to be worked on, repaired,
perfected.

She is moving on. My thoughts and reactions unimportant to her, she
has a job to do. She applies wax to the whole right side, ripping it
off in small sections, going back to get stray hairs. Her hip presses
into my left leg, naked and bent, the knee close to her as she moves.
She puts her hand on my knee as she leans over to apply more wax,
concentrating on what she needs to do.

And then… then she is moving down the table, her hand is on me. And I
realize she is spreading me! Spreading my cheeks and looking.
Noticing those hairs I mentioned seeing in the mirror. And she is
applying wax next to my anus. She's ripping those hairs out. And
putting pressure where the hairs were for a moment until the pain
subsides. Incredible feeling of exposure. Intimacy. This thing that
I didn't even know about… and now she's examining the spot, finding
the hairs, and removing them. Painfully to boot.

I can imagine what she is seeing. My anus, pink, puckered. My labia.
She can see the opening of my vagina. I am holding myself open. And
she can touch me. Is touching me. I am thankful that I DIDN'T cum
before I left the office… I'm thinking about the idea of someone
being able to know how aroused this makes me, without me knowing they
know… visible arousal is not something women usually need to deal
with. That's part of my fantasy… but I can share more about that
later.

Back to what was going on there… She rapidly moves to complete the
task. Has examined and addressed my entire pubic area. She takes one
more look, then squirts oil on her hand and rubs it into the irritated
skin, holding one thigh open. Ooooo. I knew it was coming, that's
part of the process (she did it on my eyebrows too), but really!!

She says, "all done" and I look down to see my poor, red, tortured
skin. Close my legs, sit up. And get dressed.

Confession (nikki)

Confession

I like to be a good girl. To please my Master by following His
commands. Doing everything He has instructed me.

This is one of the core elements of our relationship. I love His
control and His guidance. I love how specific it is. No guess work
about what will make Him happy. Just very concrete tasks. Very
explicit. Very controlling. In fact, I love it so much, I beg Him
for more. Suggest new ways He can influence me.

So now there are a lot of ways I can please Him but also a lot of
ways I can fall short. There are so many little things I can do wrong
or fail to do. So many ways to fuck up!

The temptation to lie about my compliance is always there. So
many of the things He requires are things that are done outside
His physical control. How would He know if I broke the rules and
had a small piece of chocolate at my desk at work? If I used the
toilet without permission? If I had a quick e-mail exchange, behind
his back, with my friend Robert? If I put my panties on halfway
through the day, without telling him? How would He even know if
I had a little online fling with somebody else? I could "please"
Him, without actually having to change my behavior at all.

At the beginning, I would follow His instructions when it pleased me.
When I felt like it. I would sometimes go behind His back. Or tell
Him that of course I had performed a ritual for Him, when I hadn't.
Or be in IM with someone else when I was frustrated that our
conversationwas slow or He was talking about something that
didn't interest me much.

In short, I behaved the way I have always behaved. Using small
untruths to smooth over conflict. Lying in the hopes my false answers
would be more pleasing than the truth. Giving what I thought the
other wanted, rather than what I was able to give.

When I was a child, this was the most successful strategy with my
controlling but detached parents. And it was also a successful
strategy at work. I never lied out of malice, or with the intent of
hurting somebody else. But I would regularly lie to make others
happy. Or at least to do what I thought would make others happy.
Exaggerate a story for effect. Tell someone what I thought they
wanted to hear. Flatter.

Master caught me a couple of times. He'd punish me. Gag me so I
couldn't tell any more lies. Or, once, in Second Life, stage a "virtual"
public beating; humiliating me and forcing me to look at the impact of
my behavior.

But it was driving a wedge between us. He needed to know the truth.
He needed to know that I was not holding anything back. And He needed
me to know that He loved the truth of me, not just the image I wanted
to project. That He loved my failures, not just my successes. He
loved my efforts and my contrition. He owned all of it.

So He needed to know about every failure. Every lapse. Every
misstep. Every omission. Every impulsive act. Every struggle.

Sometimes I am able to share those in the moment. To say, "Oh Master.
This is hard for me." or "Oh, Master, I made a mistake. I forgot.
I neglected to give You Your due. I failed."

But more often, I fail quietly. And then it is awkward to bring it
back up. The moment never seems right to tell Him that I have
disappointed Him. I don't want to have to tell Him at all.

So Master instituted daily confession. This is a structured time. A
moment of our day where we step back and I share all of the ways I
have fallen short. I tell Him the complete and unvarnished truth.
Even my temptations. I share my feelings. What I was thinking in the
moment. What led to the failure, and how I coped with it. My fears
about His reaction. And my hopes. I share it all with Him. Hand it
over to Him. And beg Him for absolution.

Sometimes He makes me do penance. Has me redo the task, or do a
harder one. Sometimes He gives me some pain to help me focus away
from my failure and towards something I can give Him. Sometimes He
just gives me absolution right there. Sometimes He asks me to help
Him to identify the right penance and to participate in meting it out.
Sometimes He just gives it to me.

I always feel better afterwards. Clean. Refreshed.

He knows I want to do better. He knows I strive to obey Him in all
things. So He accepts my weakness as human. Takes it into Him. Owns
it. Owns me.

My confession makes us closer. More intimate. It tightens our bond.
And it gives Him lots of information about how to better guide me, how
to be a more thoughtful and considerate Master.

It also just turns both of us on.