Saturday, July 28, 2012

Body modification

That's his word for it.
Body modification.
He likes to be threatening.

Me, I call it a diet.
He's putting me on a diet.
A very strict, healthy, effective diet.
He knows it's effective.
From personal experience.

He thinks my fans won't like it.
He says blog readers are fine with canings
and fine with nipple torture,
and giving a slave to friends to fuck.
But diets?

I think he's wrong.
At least in this case.

Because he is NOT saying there's anything wrong with my body. He's not trying to make me feel bad about myself. It's purely because he enjoys the control. I can't remember what triggered it but all of a sudden it struck him that he'd enjoy doing it.

Enjoy the control.
Enjoy my humiliation.
The supervised weigh-ins.
The rewards if I've done well.
The punishments when I haven't.

But here's the thing.
On the one hand, I love feeling controlled.
The thought of it makes my pussy wriggle and run.
Even the thought of the punishments gets me all excited.
And I know there will be punishments.
Because I'm on this weird 2 week hormonal cycle
so no matter how good I've been
there will be a couple of days when my weight shoots up
and with my luck
it will always hit on a day that he weighs me.

Ah well. He'll enjoy beating me. And it is my job to give him pleasure, right? I'm sure he'll use the cane. I don't enjoy the cane. He makes statements with the cane. And he knows I like being spanked. Though there are ways to spank me, and to whip me with his belt, that make it feel like a punishment. Especially if he does it when he first arrives. Before the endorphins kick in. Before things stop hurting so much.

My butt hurts right now.
It just started.
I think it's from a little caning.
Which wasn't a punishment.
It was a statement.
And I was in the closet.
In the walk-in cedar closet
where I'd been waiting in the dark
against the wall
and now was gripping the heavy iron bar
as the strip of wood he uses as a cane came down
and again
but really not that hard -
or I thought it wasn't that hard -
and it made a statement.

Which I can't tell you.

Not because I'm not allowed. He didn't say I couldn't tell you. But I'm not sure I can explain it. Or that I want to. It's another stage in the process. So maybe at some point. Right now it just feels too intimate. And words are inadequate. So not now.

Anyway, I was talking about the diet.
The body modification.
For his pleasure.
Pleasure in the process
more than in the results.

And here's what's on the other hand that I referred to way up the page. I do need to go on a diet. For health reasons. At least 20 pounds and as much as 40. Really! If you saw me, you'd say no. Can't be. But just as my age doesn't show, the extent to which I'm overweight doesn't really show. At some point I'm sure he'll decide my face is too thin, and that my belly isn't round enough. Because he has this thing about my belly...

And the third hand is that I'm highly deficient in discipline and self-control. Which is why I've been sorry all along that he didn't want to put me on a diet. I am grateful that he is taking control. I'll be grateful even for the punishments, because we both know how effective they are.

I've never forgotten the time he beat me for my typos.
Really beat me.
So I know how well punishments can work.

Plus there's one more thing.
I don't know what other ideas he might have about body modification.
But I know he really likes my hair.
The color.
The curls.
The length.
So I don't have to worry about his cutting it off
or making me dye it black.

Because that I couldn't do.

What do you all think?
Because you know he'll want to hear.
Are you upset about his putting me on a diet?

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Masturbation mania (17) - Harmonia hits a high G


Harmonia excited the cats no more than did my other sex toys. Marko preferred the view out the window, while Ketzel found more pleasure in washing her toes. She's always been a fastidious little thing.

I, however, found plenty of pleasure while playing with Harmonia, which I received free from EdenFantasys in exchanged for writing an honest (and uncensored) review. Yesterday's post was a relatively factual introduction. Today you get to read my reactions in the emails I sent to the sadist while I was conducting my lab test. When you're reviewing vibrators, you can't submit the kind of dispassionate report you might expect from Consumers Union about refrigerators.

So this is what my Master read, in installments, as Harmonia and I set out to entertain my G-spot.

It was a Sunday morning in November.

Nightgown off, Daddy.

I'm sitting up in bed, naked, my nice normal tits moving slightly as I type and as my breath flows in and out. My nipples and areolae have contracted with the chill of the room. I see the moon-like glow from the light of the window.

I'm going to start with one of my clitoral vibes, as I think this new one is too strong for warm-up. My clitoral vibe is pink, too. They coordinate nicely. Visual pleasure... all the sense are important.

I love you, Daddy.

 I apply a drop of lube to the tip of the clitoral vibe (LAYAspot), and gently rub it against my clit. Immediately, my arousal rises. Oh Daddy, it's so good to feel the familiar sensations, the practiced simulation that comes from knowing my own body! But there's also this extra sensation, this extra excitement of being touched by a foreign object.

I am being used.

For your pleasure.
I am a sacrifice to your pleasure, 
laid out on the altar of my bed, 
giving myself to you.

Time to turn on the small device before proceeding to the new one.
Before impaling myself with the new one.

My body undulates with pleasure.
Your little girl's body, writhing beneath the covers.
Writhing for her Daddy.

Your eyes see across the miles and beneath the layers of comforter, fleece, and sheet. You know her pleasure is all for you.

Time to insert the new device.

It popped right in, Daddy! I'm glad I warmed my pussy up first. Plus I think they know how to design devices that go in easily, no matter how big. They made the black one I like so much.

Once it is stuffed inside me, the noise doesn't seem so bad.

I pulled it out and held the bulbous end to my clit. The vibrations run up and down the whole shaft. I shoved it back in and bent it so the base buzzed against my clit while the rest was still inside me.

It's inside me as I write, Daddy.

I'm experimenting with angles and depths, trying to learn about my G-spot. Sometimes I think I hit it. I think of you watching the expressions on my face.



do you here me cry out, Daddy?

left leg flat on bed
right foot on bed
right knee bent up
typing with 1 finger
device buzzing against G-spot

i feel it in deep in my womb
and all the way up in my diaphragm
an almost painful pleasure

i grunt

I came, Daddy.
For you.
I came for you
and now I feel it again, Daddy.
From our trip.
I feel us lying in bed,
peaceful and happy,
your nakedness next to mine,
warm and happy and peaceful and close.

That's the name of this toy company, Daddy.

I feel close to you.

I wish I had time to linger in bed longer.
Savoring it.
Savoring how close I feel to you.

To back up... the Harmonia was inside me, and I put both legs back down flat on the bed, bending the flexible silicone so the base was vibrating against my clit while the shaft buzzed through me and the tip was still buried up against my G-spot. G for groans. I wasn't even pushing it in and out, Daddy, just letting it vibrate, giving myself to the vibrations, giving myself to you and it was glorious, Daddy, but almost too intense, so I pulled it out and held the bulb against my clit and moved it over it gently - or maybe it wasn't so gently, Daddy, we know how arousal changes my perception of pain - and the pleasure built and built and you were watching me and it was all for you, Daddy, though I can't remember exactly what I was thinking and then the noises, Daddy... they weren't high and whimpering, they came from deep within me, they were deep and guttural and I came hard, Daddy, even with all the meds I'm on because of the time of year, and not as much heavy contractions because of that and age but it was a full orgasm nevertheless Daddy and it was for you Daddy and I only wish I had much more time to lie here savoring it.

I felt you afterwards, Daddy.
Lying there with me.
So close to me.
I was so close to you.
I AM so close to you, Daddy.
Right now.
Your own angel girl.

Can you feel me...?

Reading that over now, as I transfer it from the e-mails, makes me want to give it another try. Right now. But, of course, I can't. The sadist has decreed that I may not cum this weekend. Since he's out of town. Since I didn't get to serve him. 

Except that I did serve him. 
Not with my mouth. 
Not with my hand. 
Not with my pussy.

With my words.
With my brain, as he likes to say.
With the e-mails I sent him throughout the day,
entertaining him,
distracting him,
informing him,
I am sure
making his cock wiggle in the prison of his pants.

I always find a way to serve.

Now if only pussy would stop twitching and pulsing and begging me to shove that lovely, flexible, hot pink Harmonia deep inside her!

Another time, pussy.
I promise.
Another time.

Saturday, July 14, 2012

Masturbation mania (16) - Pussy sings with Harmonia from Close2You

Very long overdue.
As you can tell from the dry autumn leaves in the photo.

One of the victims of my diminished urge to write has been the good folks at EdenFantasys, online purveyor of sex toys. I had a simple deal with them. They sent me a toy a month and in exchange I posted an honest review. With links and a picture. In fact, they would get two posts, including my in-action report as sent to the sadist and designed to be titillating. Plus at least one of the photos would include a cat or two - despite their clear lack of interest in my toys. Silicone doesn't do much for my furry beasts. Now if there were some feathers on the end...

Back to work.
The sadist is away this weekend.
No visit today.
No serving.
And no orgasm!

Maybe he figures if I'm not giving him one, I shouldn't be allowed to give myself one. Which is hard since I'm expected to be especially diligent with my Kegel exercises this weekend, and plan on making her squeeze hard and repeatedly around the elegantly tapered Sinfonia from Close2You. I haven't been writing about my exercise regimen - not writing much about anything for months and months. The short version is that my Master wants my aging pelvic muscles to be able to firmly grasp and pulse around his demanding cock. So I've been working out, with an exercise program designed as if I were doing weight-lifting at a gym. A GYN Gym. It's already showing results.

And yes, pussy is pulsing in time with the radio as I write.

But back to the issue at hand.
The item that enjoyed the warmth of my cunt.

Harmonia, a lovely G-spot vibrator made by Close2You, the same folks who made the Sinfonia I like so much.

Since I can't give it another run today, due to the masturbation ban [insert pout here], I'm relying on the messages I sent my Master when I first tested Harmonia last November. I used her a number of times since then, especially when I was in the mood to have something filling me. Though I must admit that my favorite vibrators continue to be my little lavender Meany from Fun Factory, preceded and followed by the same company's clitoral vibe LAYAspot. Until recently, that is, when I finally talked someone from LELO into giving me my long-standing lust object, Siri. Which I love love love.

But more on Siri another time.

For now, here's an introduction to Harmonia, with most of my buzz-by-buzz report to follow tomorrow.

Harmonia is, like her sisters from Close2You, beautifully packaged, and last October the company won an award for Best Product Design at the international EROFAME Trade Convention in Hanover. Good visual design and packaging shouldn't make that much of a difference, but I find that it does. It sets a mood.

This is for me.
To do something nice for myself.
This is for my pleasure.

And I love that it comes with a storage bag. Velvet on the outside and smooth on the inside. The box sets  the mood, but the bag is truly practical. So I start off with the attitude that this is a company what knows what I need. That knows what will make me feel good.

The box is foreplay.
The bag is aftercare.

Here is how I began my report to the sadist as I ran my first test on Harmonia.
The new toy.
It's big, Daddy.
Very flexible.
A bright rose pink.

It's silicone, my material of choice. I like the texture, Sir, and it's very safe. I can use it without a condom. Happy vibrator, Daddy! Nothing keeps its velvety surface from feeling my own soft, moist velvet.

It's very flexible. Bends to about halfway down. It's got this bulbous tip meant for the G-spot, so I suppose it's so flexible to assist in getting it to hit just the right spot.

It's VERY noisy, Daddy! Even at the first level of vibrations. I've become more used to those buzzes over time, but I'll see if it's too distracting.

It's called Harmonia.

Another one from the company with the music theme.

I will feel your eyes on me.
Listen for my moans.
To this I should add the reminder that silicone toys should be used with water-based lubricants only, and that they do tend to attract lint, so should be washed both before and after use. For controls, there are two buttons, which give access to a number of speeds as well as to various patterns.

Somewhere I have the little booklet which illustrates the various options - another very thoughtful touch!

One reason I chose Harmonia was because it's a G-spot vibrator. The philosopher was the one who taught me to find my G-spot. Over the phone, yet! He always did get good reviews for his teaching... Anyway, I knew I had one, I knew I responded to it, but no vibrator had ever gotten it to explode for me. I hoped Harmonia could succeed where the others had failed.

Come back later and find out how she did.

Friday, July 13, 2012

He says it with songs

I won't see him this weekend.
He's going out of town.
And then tomorrow I'm going out of town.
And then we're both in town
but the weekend after he's away
and the next two weekends I'm away...

It sucks sometimes.

Not a very poetic statement but why be poetic?

There was one real advantage to being unemployed.
It was easier to be together.
We had a lot more options.

Which reminds me.

Since I've been so stingy with my posts, head on over to the home of the Erotiterrorist and take a look at this suggestion for a story. Or a novel. Or a series. Trailer Park of Bondage. It reminds me of what Remittance Girl said in a review of a book that was billed as a well-written version of Fifty Shades of Grey: "Had this been a novel about two realistic, imperfect, damaged souls who struggled to negotiate a sexual and emotional relationship in the wake of those experiences, it would have been a very good, and very hot, novel." A statement that inspired me to start a piece that I think has potential but I was at work so couldn't keep at it for 3-4 hours and get the first draft churned out. So it is languishing.

I refuse to talk here about Fifty Shades of Grey.
Except to say that it, too, sucks.
Big time.

I'm avoiding what I actually came here to write about.

He's going out of town.

If I weren't going to be away next weekend it wouldn't be so bad. I get an extra day to try and get things done. Like clean the house. Pay my bills. Refinance my mortgage to include the massive debt I amassed during 17 months of unemployment and 8 months without a rent-paying housemate.

Happily, I have a new housemate arriving late August.
A woman.
Someone I know from a long time ago.
Someone I like.
Someone the cats like.

Why am I avoiding the reason for the post?

Because it's so personal.
Because he laid himself bare.
Without using his own words.

I asked him to give me some songs for the weekend. He likes to do that, compile songs for me to listen to. I always read too much into the lyrics. Or maybe I don't.

This time
with some of the songs,
I don't think I did.

And no.
I won't name the songs he gave me.

He gave me the list and then said: I spoil you.
And when I was done listening, I had to agree.
It was an amazing gift.

I won't list the songs.
We deserve some privacy.
But the last one was by Johnny Mathis.
And I'll listen again
in my bed
in the dark
and it will play all night in my dreams.

Sunday, July 8, 2012


Passion, he said.
That may be the rarest, most valuable thing I have introduced into your life.

I thought there was passion before, I wrote back.
But not like this.
Never like this.

Passion, he said later, in an unexpected late-night phone call.
Most people don't have it.
They have love.
But rarely passion.

It's different from hunger.
Different from love.
Different from feverish sexual desire.
And he's right.
I know he's right.
I never knew it before.

And now,
when we kiss,
streams of passion stream from our lips
leaving steaming puddles around us on the bed.