Beneath the carapace

He thinks a lot of himself.
Or so he says.
He wants me to know that he thinks a lot of himself.

Such a mammoth ego.
A mammoth ego needing so much support.
Wanting constant massaging,
like his lovely cock,
hungry for attention
from hand and mouth and more
to keep it smartly hard.

Such vulnerability.
Such beautiful vulnerability.
Does he know that's something I love about him?

He tries to hide it.

And now.
As we sort things out.
It took me ever so long to see.
He had to say it nearly straight out.

He needs to save face.

He does know he triggered it.
He knows the beast escaped.
He knows he didn't protect me.

But what he focuses on is what I did to him, how I left without a word, how I tossed away 7 years (actually 6 and a half) because of half an hour (seemed more like an hour), how I waffled about whether it was over or not...

Because.
Because he knows what he did.
He knows the effect it had on me.

But he needs to feel - to pretend - that he was the one who was wronged. Like when he has trouble cumming because of too much to drink, and he says it will be all my fault if he can't cum even though he knows - and I know - that it's not my fault at all. Sometimes, after, he has even said that, reassured me, that he knows it wasn't my fault but he needs to act like it was.

So I'm being good and doing as he says and accepting that he has doubts. And he has always had doubts, it has always been hard to fully believe that I do love him, do want to fully give myself over to him, even though I do sometimes fight it and run scared because really, given issues I've always had with authority even as I've so badly needed someone to take control, is it any surprise that some sense of rebellion remains?

In fact, he's got a plan that seems to be working. He's wise for us to ease back in. And what he so badly needs is to feel that he's back in control.

Which is also why he won't let me masturbate.

I love it that he won't let me masturbate.
Just as I love how sweetly he stroked me
as I even more sweetly sucked on his cock.

Red hot bottom

He took up the cane
not for my pain
but for color, for
heat, the rain of blows
restrained, traveling the
lane from the mounds
of my butt
down wincing thighs,
back to the blush of
white turned to pink
burnt to red.
"It hurts,"
I cried. "Daddy,
you're hurting me!"
I whined, as the
flow down my thighs
betrayed to his fingers
the truth of my need.

Nipple clamps...

... in my future.
My very near, if undefined future.

My pussy is so aroused that she's screaming.
I do hope he lets me cum on Saturday.

Please, Daddy?
Please let me cum on Saturday?

Sometimes, he lets me cum

He let me cum today.

I asked yesterday.
After his visit.
After giving him what he needed so badly.

He said yes.
But not till today.
He enjoys knowing I'm masturbating for him.
But he also enjoys knowing I'm not masturbating.

He enjoys the power.

So it wasn't till today.
He rewarded his pussy.
He allowed me to touch his property.

And I did.
Gratefully.

He was watching the football game while miles away I was under the covers, half naked, my beloved little LELO Siri buzzing away against my clitoris. Oops. I mean, his clitoris. The whole day, I was aware that I would be touching myself for him. Cumming for him. And all day, he was aware of the same thing.


We have so many ways of being together when we're apart.
So many ways of feeling each other.
Touching each other.
And he has so many delicious ways of controlling me.

I thrive beneath his control.

Fuck me, damn it!

We spent the day in mutual masturbation.
Not with our fingers, though,
except for the action of fingers on keyboards.

It started with a scenario that, last night, inserted itself into his brain, playing over and over as he expanded and refined. It gripped him and, as he knew it would, gripped me as hard as his hand can close around my throat till I can hardly breathe.

This was a very large seed my Master planted in my brain. It germinated, rooted fast, and threw up shoots that envenomed like poison ivy. They touched him, infected him, and he tossed his visions back to me.

I was in pain for hours.
The pain of unrelieved arousal.
It was glorious.

He quite enjoyed my agony.
As did I.

We've been elsewhere mostly, this last month. Daddy's health issues, my SAD, assorted other problems in our lives, these have made for very different sorts of interactions. We are many things to each other, with each other, and we grew closer together in those other areas. What we were dealing with was hard, but how we interacted was beautiful and intimate, if not the kind of intimacy that involves the communing of body parts.

Underneath it all,
firmly underneath it all,
lay the foundation of his ownership.
We both know that without that
there would be
no "we."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

At this point, I was interrupted. There was supposed to be more to this post. About how he told me to leave a message on his voice mail while he went out to scrape the ice of his car. A message from Daddy's baby girl. A message apologizing for asking for something - because it's true, she's never supposed to just phone, and she certainly is never supposed to ask for anything for herself but this time he ordered me to phone and ask, to beg, please, please Daddy, please stick your cock in my little butt hole and fuck me! Which I do in fact badly want, he knows I want it, need it, that it has been an obsession for years, to be taken in the ass, raped in the ass, sodomized, debased, with nothing erotic about it. A butt-fucking that can only be humiliating, that accentuates the extent to which I am owned property, that sends me further down into that place, not a pretty floaty place despite the endorphins that will flow through me instead of blood. A dark, dark, perfect place - a perfect place, don't you see it's a perfect place? It's a safe place even though it's a dangerous place because of the chance the beast will break past the spell cast around him to keep me safe.

It's a safe place.
Because I don't have to pretend.
I can yield to everything.
Leave everything else behind.
Because with
every
stab
of pain
in my ass
his cock
declares
over
and over:
This
is what
you are.

And what
you are
is Mine.

So now we are talking about his taking me off to a rustic cabin in the woods. For a week of training and torture and transformation. He used to go to the perfect place as a child. I've been pulling up pictures of cabin interiors to set the scene.

A shared fantasy and nothing more?
Perhaps.
If so, the psychological effects will be real.
Then again,
with Daddy my Master,
you never do know...

[That subject line? Never in the world, never never never, would I ever say such a thing to my Master. But oh... It's been weeks since he fucked me. And I've so badly needed to cum all damn day. I wouldn't even have to cum. I could merely pass my finger tip over my very swollen clit. Though no. Do you hear my sigh? All it would take would be that one little touch and you would hear my orgasmic cries from here to London and California. So no. No touching. No cumming. Poor Baby...]

Masturbation mania #18 - LELO, I love you

I've been trying to think of a concise little tag line for this post.
A summary, in a few clever words, of how I feel about LELO.
I lusted after them for so long, you know.
And then... I knew.
My lust was justified.

LELO: because they really are that good.
LELO: better than your fingers.
LELO: beauty does matter.

There is so much to say.
Though words are all second best.
Photos only hint at the combined pleasure.
The perfect combination of form and function.

They call them pleasure objects.
Which covers a lot more than "vibrator."
Or "sex toy."

Pleasure...
The way they feel in my hand.
The subtle velvety smoothness of the silicone.
The perfect balance of texture and glide
which surpasses all my former favorites.
All my other orgasmic assistants,
now banished to the back of the drawer.

Pleasure...
Shape.
Touch.
Pleasing to my eye and hand
even before they get to the business at hand.
Or what was formerly the business of my hand.

It shouldn't make that much of a difference - the perfection of the curves, pleasing to my eyes, comfortable in my hand. But it does. Even the packaging sets me up to expect more because of the extra thought that went into the design.

The outer box. The very classy storage box. The silky black storage bag - because really, how many of us have the room to keep each item in its own black storage box with the compartment for the charger and the toy cleaner. But I haven't gotten rid of the boxes. They're just too... pleasing.

I have two of them.
Two LELO pleasure objects.
SIRI.
And ELISE 2.

To get the first, I shamelessly hinted and hinted and then nearly begged from the LELO reps at a conference I attended late last Spring as part of my job. Their booth was surrounded by swarms of women. All the time. But no one there knew about my other identity. No one knew I was submissive and had a sex blog, a BDSM blog yet, and that I knew more than they would ever expect about sex toys.

I hovered in front of the LELO booth.
Because I lusted after SIRI.
And I was - and continue to be - deeply in debt.
No money to spend on lovely, orgasm-inducing silicone objets d'art.

So I begged.
And got.
And finally tested.

The one I chose is purple and white. It sleeps in my hand like a flattened egg, but with something of the sweet softness of a baby rabbit. Not furry, you understand. But I could swear it feels safe in my hand, comfortable, and then when I press it gently on just the right, round spot - which isn't at all hard to find - it starts to purr... you didn't know that baby rabbits purred, did you? Well, this one does... (Why a baby rabbit when I'm a cat person I have no idea. Never question a poet about her images. We have no control. At least I don't.)

SIRI snuggles up to my clitoris like an old, affectionate friend. I don't push down hard, just cup her in my hand and move her slightly back and forth as if she were my hand except better. Sweeter... Some women have complained that LELO toys aren't strong enough. Maybe I'm hyper sensitive, but I don't even need to go to the highest level of vibrations. Sometimes I explore the different patterns (6 vibration modes, but I've never cared to count or define). Sometimes I don't bother switching, and don't necessarily go to the highest intensity. Always, there is exquisite pleasure. I have to force myself to pull back, to take my time, to savor the sensations... especially as, you may remember, I'm not allowed to masturbate very often - usually only after I have served the sadist, after he has gone, if I've been very good, if he thinks he'll get pleasure from my report about my fantasies and then the texture of my orgasms. Because, as you may also remember, he does own my orgasms. Which he doles out with great deliberateness. You'd think he was afraid I'd use them up too fast. Ha!

But back to my review.

Because here's the thing.
My pleasure.
My hand -
the palm of my hand -
and my eyes -
that screen behind my eyes -
they all contribute to the combined pleasure that makes me cum.

The shape and texture of Siri in my hand,
the image of this beautiful form on the screen behind my eyes,
on top of the perfect stimulation of my clitoris...

I love it.
I just plain love it.

So there I was,
in orgasmic heaven.
And I'm a clitoral girl.
I like to fuck,
but I don't usually cum from fucking.
Hardly ever.
Though twice from Evan in the space of an hour.
So I was perfectly happy with SIRI,
almost never used my fingers any more,
and have other items to shove up my pussy
should I really get the urge
or remember that it's good to give my aging cunt muscles a workout.

But then came the offer.
The invitation.
There were new versions of old favorites.
Buzzing pleasure objects to stick up inside me.

And that's how ELISE joined my little family.
ELISE 2 actually.
New and improved.
Longer.
More powerful.
Fully waterproof.
and, like my darling SIRI, rechargeable.
Packed in a classy box,
along with a silky black storage bag.

Did I like it?

Check back in the next day or two to find out.

Meanwhile, if someone is stuck on what to get you for a last minute present, or you're stuck on what to get someone else, or you're going to be stuck alone over the holidays and are allowed to (or ordered to) masturbate, or you want to watch someone else masturbate - and then be really mean and not let her cum... There are sales going on. Amazing sales. Pre-holiday sales. Personally, I prefer to buy locally, from a local woman-owned business, or if on-line from a not hugely corporate woman-owned business. But if it's get the cheapest price or not get it at all... check out Amazon.

Disclaimer: I got both of my buzzing darlings for free, but of course can say whatever I want. And I can't guarantee that you'll respond the same way I do. All I can say is that I have a relationship with both SIRI and ELISE 2 that is quite different from how I felt about all the other toys I've received and tried. Also, I did try to get a picture including at least one of the cats, but they showed a distinct lack of interest. Not enough plastic, obviously.

The Soldiers' Whore - a story

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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.

~~~~~

yes

there

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.

Loudly.
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.
Close2you.

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.

Still.
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...?

Whew!

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,

and

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.

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

Overdue.

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.

Tended, tenderly, with caresses and pain

I am writing from somewhere very high up.
Open.
Expanded.
Floating.

I must be coming down a little, because as I sit here naked in bed, awake from a very long post-orgasmic nap, I can feel the pain building in my spanked and belt-beaten butt.

He knew what I needed.
What I needed for myself.
And what I needed for him,
to put me in that place he wanted me.
That place in which he can enjoy me.

And beyond.
He coaxed out his little girl.
Which he needed and I needed.
And then he sent me further.
Deeper and higher.
Deeper and higher into that awe-inspiring slave place.

I'm supposed to report to him after.
After he is gone.
Report to him on the experience from my perspective.
What I experienced and how I felt.

But I was horribly frustrated. I couldn't find the words. That place, the journey, what I felt, what I knew, what I touched on, the understanding that was so profound yet wouldn't solidify into description as if it were some perfect psychedelic trip while held safe in the arms of the man who was both guide and the drug itself. Except I wasn't in his arms.

Well, sometimes I was in his arms.
As he kissed me.
He has a graduate degree in kissing after years of independent study and lab experiments.

But the rest of the time I was sucking his cock.
Or sitting in his lap.
Or lying on my belly as my bottom reddened beneath his belt.
Or pinned to the futon by his body as his cock sought my tight little butt hole.

Later, he whipped me with his belt as I was sucking his cock. By then I was already pretty high. I could tell he was beating me harder than before, but as always happens when I'm that high, it didn't hurt as much. I could feel the impact, and it hurt a little, but I wasn't suffering from it.

I wished he had beaten me longer then.
But it's not for me to ask.
Everything is for him.
Even when it's what he thinks I need, it's to make me into what will please him.

Except you know what?
I'm sorry to contradict my Master, but that's not wholly true.
He cares for me.
A lot.
What was that term he allowed himself to use during our last night together?
He's "extremely fond" of me.
And from the way he said it, you could tell how much those words meant.

Plus when I was away.
He gave me a gift.
Special dispensation.
The prime directive was set aside.
The one about giving him what he wants, and not what he doesn't want.

You can write anything, he said.
Anything I wanted.
Anything I needed to say.
He took down the wall.
He was my lover.
He was my friend.
He was my strength.

Which, in fact, he always is.
But it's not safe to be that way without the structure.
The carapace.
For so many reasons.

But those parts of us are as much of what we are to and with each other as the rest of them. It's just that they need to be kept constrained. Like the beast in a way. Ironic, no? But I completely agree. For so many reasons, it would never work.

But sometimes he takes down the wall.
He takes care of me.
So he allowed me to say whatever I needed.
And granted me an unheard of 4 orgasms to be spread over the 5 days.
Because he knew what I needed.
Because he wanted to take care of me.
Because he wanted to ease my pain.

While today, he knew I needed the pain.

And then.
After he came.
After I gave him the release he needed,
as I sat on the floor before him,
my head in his lap,
he stroked my head,
he stroked my hair,
gently and tenderly
for the longest time.

And I felt very dear.
And very treasured.
And very safe.

Girls talk - about sex! (What else?)

Lunch with the girls today.
Meaning my friends from work.
Friends!
I've almost never had friends at work.
Real friends.
Friends I can go out to lunch with.
Open up to.
Be myself with.

Well, almost myself...
I've told them in normal terms about my relationship.
But not about the BDSM part of it.

But I did mention today that I review vibrators.

(And I really do have to get back to reviewing. If for no other reason than I owe a review for the last toy I got. A toy I liked. But between work and family stuff and my writer's block... well, it just hasn't happened. Which is stupid. Because all I have to do is transcribe my comments to my Master as I tested it. Soon...)

Anyway.
I have these friends.
Young women.
One is 22, one is 30, and the third... maybe mid-twenties?

Three of us started at the same time, and then we welcomed in the fourth when she arrived a few months later. We had wondered if she'd fit in, because the three of us tended to let it hang out. Who knows why?

The newest one has a boyfriend. I've got my Master. The 30-year old is married but getting almost no sex since her pregnancy maybe 4 years ago. The 22-year old really wants to get laid. She's striking and sharp, very smart and very wry. Most people bore her, she says. A problem.

But not as bad as the married one's problem.
She's never had an orgasm.
Or doesn't think she has.
In chorus, the 22-year old and I sang out "You'd know it if you had one."

So we talked to her a little about vibrators.
I think we should have a little party and show her ours.
Tell her about the options.
Too bad there isn't a good store in the area where we could take her.
A real store, not on line.
One of those stores started by women.
Someplace like Good Vibrations or Babeland.

I did now find via Google something in DC, though I'm not sure of the atmosphere. If only we could get her to go exploring with us one day! Of course, she has a family to get home to. And I'm booked on Saturdays.

Anyway, it feels good having friends to talk with so openly. Relatively openly. At least to be open about being so sexual. It's a relief.

But tell them I'm a slave?
That my Daddy whips me with his belt?

Not a chance.

Speaking of the beast, I had to go back up north last weekend to see my mom again, who was back in the hospital with pneumonia. Which is not uncommon with a stroke. The same hospital in which Maurice Sendak died. (I was very sad about that - Maurice Sendak dying. I loved Where the Wild Things Are, which I didn't read until I was in college. To be able to be angry, to run away, to be among creatures who accept you and respect you. And then to be able to return home. To be welcomed home and loved. Not judged. It's hard, these days. With my mother so ill. Knowing that I disappointed her, and that she could not accept me for who and what I was. I struggle with a lot of feelings these days.)

Anyway, I hated being away from my Daddy, and hated not being there for him. But it meant he could visit his masochist slave, where the beast is let loose and, hopefully, some of the stress of wanting to torture me is relieved. It turns out that he took Saturday regular visits from his slave in order to give me that day, once I went back to work. I had just started wondering if that was the case when he told me. I felt bad. I knew how awful I'd feel if my visits were cut back so he could be with someone else instead. So I was glad that his slave would benefit from my absence, and hoped that my Daddy's hunger would be eased. Which it was. At least to some extent. We'll see. This Saturday we'll see.

Unless my mother dies.
I don't really think she's into going on.
I don't know.
Some of her being uncooperative is from the increasing dementia.
Dementia mainly from the stroke now.
But some... I'm not sure.
Sometimes I think she doesn't think it's worth it like this.

When your parents are in their 90s, you're always expecting The Call. But now, it's even more. Which will be hard. But a blessing, too, perhaps. Very hard on my dad, but also a relief. He's exhausted. And then... it will be a pity. Our relationship has been getting a lot better lately, from my having visits with him alone. Ah well.

I guess that, after all, there were other things to talk about.
Other than sex.
At least here.

Where I can ramble on.

Thanks for just sitting and listening.
Because that's another thing friends do.
Sit.
And listen.
Without judgment.

And now I think I'll go cuddle the cats.
Because they don't judge me either.

Leather and heels; feminism and sucking cock

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I suck the sadist's mental cock as motorcade delays blowjob

He was stuck in front of the White House.
He was on his way to get his cock sucked
and he was stuck in front of the White House.

We get that here in DC.
Motorcades and helicopters,
police escorts and unexpected traffic.

I hear about a speech in the Rose Garden and I can feel it happening, 9 miles down the road. The reporter comments on the weather but I already know what it is, I only have to look out the window and I know we're under the same sun, the same clouds, the same threat of economic disaster.

He had projected an arrival between noon and 1 pm. Last week he was held up by rain-delayed traffic. Today was clear and cold, bright sun smiling down on a city preparing for Christmas as the unemployed try for a second year to sneak a couple of gifts into their struggling budgets. The sun was shining. Anything seemed possible.

Surely, today, he'll have plenty of time to enjoy the services of his devoted pet?

Not so fast.
In fact, not fast at all.

At 12:55, he projects a 1:20 arrival.
Ha.
Five minutes later, everything stops.

1:15.
He's been stuck at the same light near the White House for 15 minutes.
People start getting out of their cars.

At least we can text.
Illegal for him but what the hell.
He certainly isn't going anywhere.

Poor Daddy. Too bad your pet isn't with you. Though maybe not a good place to have your cock sucked in the car.

I check out the Washington Post on line. The sadist reports a motorcade. I eventually figure out that Obama must be coming back from a speech to campaign workers at a nearby hotel. At 1:25, cars start moving again.

Poor Daddy indeed. If he wasn't stressed out before, he surely must be now. The visit will have to be cut short. Again. Sometimes it seems as if we are being punished for the luxury of that perfect hotel night. We're being charged for it, forced to pay it back, minute for minute.

Still, there are ways I can serve him in absentia.
Not with my hand.
Not with my mouth.
But with my mind.
My pussy mind.
I'll lick and suck him with my mind.

Feel my tits pressing into your belly. Feel my belly pressing against your cock. I am with you, Sir. Breathe deeply and you will smell me.

My tongue whispers in your ear. I am waiting. I am always waiting. I live in standby mode, a little red light on the tip of my clit signalling readiness.

My pale butt cheeks rise before your eyes, blocking the view of cars and politicians. You feel yourself being sucked into my tight moaning butt hole.

You feel me on the seat beside you. Touch yourself, you say. Reach under your dress to your soft bare pussy and touch yourself for me.

Taste yourself, you say. Taste how you melt from knowing you are mine.

Touch me, you say. Run your fingers over my cock as it groans within my jeans.

Suck me, you say. Imagine away these bucket seats. Spread your obedient body across the bench seat and fasten your sweet soft mouth on my demanding dick.

Show your bare ass to the waiting cars and the now distracted Secret Service. Brighten their day. Give them food for torrid dreams. Let them dream. You are mine.

Are you moving yet, Daddy?

Eta 2:00.

Thank you, Sir. I await. Twitching.

If you must be stuck in traffic, it's good to have a reliable stress reliever waiting at the end of the trip.

I am very reliable.
And when he left me, he felt very good indeed.
It was the least I could do.
As for me -
I get to masturbate tonight.
Daddy had the pleasure of giving me the spanking I needed.
And he gnawed into my neck a beautiful mark.

Good thing it's cold enough for turtleneck sweaters!

He whipped my butt with his belt

He did.
Today.
For the first time.
He whipped my pale soft bottom with his belt.

I was lying on my belly on the futon.
Soft and pale - and naked, of course.
I'm naked when I greet him at the door.

I lay on my belly while he took off his clothes. I felt him lay the belt across my naked back. I knew it was his belt. Even before he asked "What did I lay on you, my pet?" And I knew then that he was going to whip me with it.

Belts.
I have a thing for belts.
For being beaten by a belt.
The philosopher would use his belt on me.
And it figured heavily in my fantasies.
But the sadist had never used it.
Until now.
An hour or so ago.

He didn't use it that hard.
He whipped me.
My buttocks.
The tops of my thighs.
It hurt.
But not that bad.
And it thrilled me.
It aroused me.
Just the words...

He whipped me with his belt.

I felt the stripes.
Even after he stopped.
It felt as if the whipping went on and on
even after he stopped.

My pussy is pulsing like mad now.
I 'm glad he said I could masturbate.
I'm going back down to the dungeon
to lie on the futon
to think about the belt
to relive the whipping
to hold a buzzing silicone-coated creature against my clit
before thrusting it up inside me
moaning
writhing
cumming
remembering
how he put the tip of the belt in my mouth
and then the side of the belt in my mouth
as if a leather bit for a horse
and he he didn't wrap it around my neck
except I felt it being wrapped around my neck
and the end threaded through the metal buckle
and the loop pulled snugly around my throat
as if it were a collar
and I wished it were a collar
and then he did order me down
with my head on the floor between his feet
and I could hear him gather up the belt
and fold it over
and silently I begged him
as I prepared for the pain
and knew how soft it would make me
soft for his pleasure
soft for his use
and there was no need for begging
as he whipped my soft, marked butt,
his angel's soft pale butt,
with his supple leather belt.

On my own but never alone.

I've enjoyed the last few days.
I've enjoyed being on my own.
Because being on my own means being with the fiend.

Not that I've been hanging out at home alone. It's been a busy time. I stayed home Friday night and now I can't even remember what I did. I was very tired. I think I went to bed early. And earned Daddy's praise by waking up early on Saturday.

I do love earning Daddy's praise.

He was so pleased that he phoned me from his car.
He almost never phones me.
It was a special treat for both of us.

I love my Daddy's voice.

He ordered me out for a nice long walk on Saturday. I got air and exercise and sunshine and lots of pictures of fall foliage. Happy pet. And happy Daddy. Because as usual I sent him messages from along the trail.

I'm walking briskly, Daddy.
On the trail by the creek.
People are out with their kids and their pets.
The pets are leashed.
As am I, Daddy.

I took a lot of pictures.
I was very happy.
Daddy was happy.
He didn't reply but I knew he was happy.
He loves being with me on my walks.

A housewarming party later.
Followed by a project I'll report on in a few days.
This morning he allowed me to masturbate.
Checking out a new sex toy.
Yum.
He let me cum.
I'll report soon on that, too.
Daddy, of course, got his report in real time.
Lucky Daddy.
Lucky, aroused Daddy.

The rest of the day.
Brunch.
Home.
Nap.
Supper with friends.
And always.
Always.
I felt him with me.
I felt soft and warm and sweet and happy
and he was with me.
Always with me.

Happy Daddy.
Happy pet.

Masturbation mania (15) - Kiki purrs and o.g. cums

I love being efficient.
I'm not efficient very often, but when I am I'm very pleased with myself.

As you know, the sadist owns my orgasms.
Among other things.
I may only masturbate, not to mention cum, with his permission.
And then he expects a report.
Written.
With details.
Just saying:
I rubbed,
I came,
I cried,
I slept
isn't enough.

So when I test new sex toys, I end up with an account of the experience written either in the heat of the experience or else right after. I arouse the insatiable fiend and make notes for my review at the same time. Clever, no?

Here, then, are excerpts from my reports to the sadist on the two tests I ran on Kiki from PicoBong, LELO's new "youth-oriented", attractively priced line of sex toys. (As an example of the pricing, EdenFantasys sells Kiki for $39.95, whereas they sell LELO's rechargeable Siri for $98.99. Both have multiple vibration patterns on top of a few levels of straight buzz. Both are silicone. Part of Siri's extra cost is likely from being rechargeable, and I suspect it is stronger, given that Kiki runs on a single AAA battery. Plus, as you can see from the above picture, Kiki is really small. Get a little satin pouch for it (Siri already comes with one), and you could easily keep it tucked in your bag for emergencies.

A couple of functional notes before the sexy stuff. I previously learned that even clitoral vibrators benefit from a touch of lube. But given my desperate arousal and fuzzy post-service mental state when I embarked on my first trial run, I forgot that I wouldn't be inserting Kiki and doused her with too much AstroGlide. I think that reduced her effectiveness. The second time I was more careful, and Kiki brought me to an orgasm on her own.

The controls are seemingly simple and obvious, but I found that they don't lie quite where my finger wants them to be. There are just 2 buttons, which you can see in the picture above and can feel with your finger. However, they are in line with the word PicoBong, and I sometimes had to run my finger down the indented design to the right spot and then push a bit hard. you also have to read the instructions carefully and then count your way through the vibration levels so you know when to press and hold the (+) button in order to shift to the different patterns. The first time, I never did make it into the patterns. I suspect that with use I'll get better at it, but for a start it was a bit of nuisance, especially the time I removed the vibrator from my clit to check the placement of my finger.

Still, overall, I'm very fond of the little thing. Gentle, cute, and quiet are good for me. And she certainly works beautifully as an appetizer.

Here, then, are my lab reports, as written for the sadist.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

October 18

I feel unbelievably soft right now, Daddy. So now I'm going to masturbate... with the softness... feeling you still here on the bed... next to me... stroking me... watching me... feeling me tremble next to you... watching my calves stiffen with the arousal... my hair spread out on the pillow...

[...]

And I did masturbate, Daddy. Not long after you left. So that you would still be with me.

You are with me even now, Daddy.
I feel so close to you.

[ . . . ]

I just had to haul myself back from soft memories.

So yes, I masturbated.
Gently.

I pulled back the covers and lay down all soft and naked on the blue sheet and lubed up my cute little new pink toy. It's the sweetest little thing (named Kiki), but I'll have to give it another trial at least before writing the review as I forgot the trick to getting it to switch to the different patterns. You have to bring it all the way up to the top vibration level and then hold the + button down for 2 seconds. The problem was I didn't get it all the way up to the top level, and didn't realize I hadn't.

It's very quiet, Daddy, and very gentle, which is just what I wanted. It doesn't make my poor little clitoris go numb, which some vibrators do. And when that happens, using your fingers after just doesn't work. But this one was gentle, and the thought of how it looks made me feel happy, and thoughts of you made me happy. And then I switched back to my fingers, rubbing my clit which was now all wet from pussy juices and from lube... and I thought of you spanking me and then I came. Not a huge orgasm, Daddy, but a nice orgasm. Just right for today. And then I took a gentle nap.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

October 28

Awake after a short post-orgasmic nap.
I set the timer, Daddy, to be sure I didn't sleep too long.

Thank you so much for letting me masturbate, Daddy! Your poor pussy was so aroused [from an event we had been discussing] that I came very fast, even though my new little toy isn't very strong. But I like it, Daddy. I love the velvety texture, and how the tip is flat so it presses perfectly on your little girl's clit. Plus it's so quiet! Which is at least partly connected to not being very strong. But it did the job, Daddy, because I was already so aroused, so I had a first little orgasm very fast, even before I made it to the fancy vibration patterns.

I did think about being your toy, Daddy. Which made me even more aroused. And this time I didn't put too much lube on my little pink toy, so the friction was just right. It's so small and quiet I could easily carry it in a little purse, Daddy, in case of emergency...

So I had one little orgasm, Daddy, but didn't cry and wasn't ready to stop. So I switched to the big black vibrator that feels so good inside [the Sinfonia]. I lubed that up and slipped it in and used it to do Kegel exercises around. And then I fucked myself with it while it was buzzing away, knowing that I'm your pussy and I was created to be used, to be fucked, and this vibrator is perfect for fucking myself, Daddy, being shaped sort of like a curved ice cream cone, except velvety smooth and elegantly black. So I slid it in and out of me, and then took it out and pressed the buzzing tip against my clit and came again. Though again, Daddy, not a giant body shaking orgasm. And no crying.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

And so it was.

So when I'm feeling particularly sweet and soft and pink, I just might reach for Kiki. because there's something about her, some indefinable personality, that makes me want to say "Come, Kiki. Come kiss my clit."

Masturbation mania (14) - LELO's young, cute bargain line

 "Look, Daddy! Isn't it cute?"

Naked, used, I held out the hand that cradled the small, hot pink vibrator.
He eyed it dubiously.

"Very cute, my pet."

He paused.

"But aren't you afraid it might get lost?"

"Oh no, Daddy!
It doesn't go inside.
It's for my clitoris!
It's got this nice flat top that nestles up against it.
And feel it, Daddy!"

For one of the very few times in our relationship, the sadist did what I said, extending his hand to stroke the soft pink velvety silicone of my sweet new toy.

"You're right!"
Why did he sound surprised?
"Very soft."

"So may I masturbate, Daddy?
May I try it out?
For your pleasure, of course.
I'll think of you
and cum for you

and send you a full report."

"Yes, mt pet.
You may masturbate."

And with that, he left.

As I've said a few times before, I have this thing for LELO sex toys. The design, the packaging, the fact that they're made in Sweden... I have this thing for them, but I don't have a single one.  They're expensive. Too expensive of course for me to buy, and too expensive for EdenFantasys, generous as they've been, to send me for review.

So I continue my unrequited lust.

Recently, however, LELO came out with a new line of toys, called PicoBong. Don't ask me why "PicoBong." Who am I to try to penetrate the minds of marketers? The point is, they are trying to appeal to "a younger clientele at a more affordable price point." Personally, I think they're trying a bit too hard on the dedicated website, whose atmosphere is quite different from the elegance of the LELO site. But the idea is a good one. Not everyone can shell out a hundred bucks for a silicone orgasm inducer, as much as some of us may want to.

Hence, PicoBong.
Small devices.
No fancy packaging.
No recharging.

On the other hand, you do get my main requirements of safe, velvety silicone, stunningly quiet operation, thoughtful design, and - let's not forget - an orgasm. At least for me.

My chosen introduction to this cheaper, snappier incarnation of LELO was the Kiki C-Vibe. Since clitoral vibration is my best route to an orgasm, I'm always up for exploring new clit vibes. And it did look awfully cute. Plus I knew right off that the flat tip was a good design choice.

Ketzel thought it was cute, too.

 Kiki is the first toy she wanted to play with.
She batted it around like a toy mouse.
So we both enjoyed it!

There was one thing about Kiki I knew right off that I'd enjoy. When she arrived (and how could such a cutie not be a "she", no matter what the marketers named her), I immediately stuck in a battery to be sure she worked. *A* battery. One little battery. One very little battery. One little triple A battery. How much noise can a single AAA battery make?

Not much.
Not much at all.
I finally had a truly quiet vibrator.

Of course, as those of you with quick minds have already figured out, how much power can one AAA battery produce?

Not all that much here, either.
Kiki is a very gentle vibrator.
Which is fine for my delicate clit.
But not necessarily for everyone's.

Still, I did cum.

How much was due to still feeling the sadist's nakedness next to mine? And to his scent and his power lingering in the air of my bedroom and the blue cotton of my sheets? And to the time I had spent serving his needs while my own arousal served only to fire his?

Who can say... but it was the second time I tested it, which wasn't right after a visit, that Kiki quickly made me cum on her own.

Summary: this 62-year old sadist's pet will be happy to adopt youth-oriented PicoBong Kiki as a pet of her own. And come back Hallowe'en night for the lab reports I made to the fiend to find out if she'd be a good addition to your own menagerie.

Masturbation mania (13) - Yielding to the elegant Sinfonia

Here, in part 2 of my review of Close2You's Sinfonia g-spot vibrator, is a purely subjective evocation of a delicious masturbation session as reported to the sadist. You can read Part 1 of my review here, which, while not totally objective, at least includes some solid details. And don't forget that if you check out the Sinfonia (or any other sex toy) on EdenFantasys' website, they have a very handy comparison tool to help you choose between different items. I use it myself when choosing which of several options I want to review next.

Before proceeding, I should note that I had to work very hard to get the above shot. The cats have been showing very little interest in my goodies, but at least Ketzel, despite her boredom, was willing to return to the box again and again when I called her. She did, however, show a distinct preference for having the top of the box closed.

And now, here is what happened the second time I gave myself to the elegant and alluring Sinfonia, as related to my Master in a series of in-flight messages....
~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I'm horribly aroused, Daddy, so I'm going to masturbate now.

I've laid out my chosen toys. I seem to have a standard array now, Daddy. The pink clitoris vibrator (what's it called? Oh yes, the LAYAspot). My beloved little lavender Meany - short and stubby and sweet and wonderful. And then whatever new thing I have.

In this case, that classy black and grey Sinfonia.

Last time I was so desperate I couldn't pay attention to the different vibration patterns. I wonder what will happen this time...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Oh, Daddy...

I started with the pink one, holding it against my clit where it's buzzing gently at the very lowest setting... and my pelvis is tipping up while my pussy searches for your cock.

I love when I feel your cock just grazing my clit and labia, Daddy.
I hunger for your cock, Daddy.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I turned the setting up, Daddy, and now there's the feeling of being whipped, with a single thin lash landing straight across my butt hole.

Not a fantasy, Daddy.
Purely a sensation.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I lubed it up and slid it in and ohhh.... it felt so incredibly good, my Master. And for a while I didn't turn it on, just did Kegel exercises around it. And then I turned it on, and it started buzzing inside me, and I kept saying out loud Oh God Oh God Oh God... because of how wonderfully good it feels... and then I found myself wondering how I would respond to the cane if I had the Sinfonia buzzing away inside me and then I thought uh-oh I shouldn't tell you that but I had the thought so I couldn't not tell you.

And now I think I won't write again until after I cum.

Except that I feel you watching me, my Master, and had that feeling of objectification again... and of someone standing over me... watching me masturbate...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ohhh, Daddy...

Thank you, my Master.

I just wish there had been more time... it felt so wonderful... and my reactions were so powerful... if you had been watching you would have received the gift of a symphony of moans and whimpers and grunts and then variations on the theme of breaths... and I had that same response as last time, Daddy, of feeling very objectified. Of things being done to me that I had no hand in... An image came of me bound to the bed with the beautiful black curve of a vibrator shoved up inside me and kept in place by surgical tape... a torture of pleasure while you watched and listened and took pictures and video clips and took notes on which patterns elicited what response...

I didn't have time to stop and write down which patterns had what effect, Daddy, but what I can say is that the effects were powerful. And then it was getting late so first I just fucked myself with it for a while on a plain vibration, and then I held the tip to my little butt hole... I think... I had trouble finding it and getting the tip in so I just held it kind of over where I thought it was. Maybe I should give up on the idea of a vibrating butt plug. I'm awfully small and tight.

Finally, I switched to the plush lavender Meany - inside me a little and also rubbed over my clitoris because I was aiming to cum. And I discovered by accident that I had forgotten that the Meany has different patterns, too! But because it's so plushy I don't think they are as powerful. That was a nice reminder, though. Mainly, I let it buzz away and rubbed it gently against my clit and had a lovely orgasm inside me... with the real feel of going up and over the waterfall. And then I cried a little and kept the Meany going and had a couple more small orgasms (I hope that was ok, Daddy?). And then I had to stop. I rested for just a few minutes and then got up to write you. Leaving just a little time to pull on my clothes, feed the cats, and run off to baby sit.

Thank you so much, Daddy.
This was most delicious.
I love love love this toy!

But nowhere near as much as I love you.

Masturbation mania (12) - Testing the elegant Sinfonia

Another winner.
A really big winner.

I feel almost worshipful about my new vibrator, the very elegant Sinfonia from Close2You, an upscale (but not high-end) German manufacturer of sex toys. The look, the feel, the simplicity of form... and that doesn't even get into my physical and emotional response! I'm drawn to it with an adoring lust...

They have a theme, this company.
A musical conceit.
Their toys have names derived from classical music.
Sinfonia.
Harmonia.
Allegro.
Legamento.
They're decorated with symbols from music.
The Sinfonia even looks somewhat like a bass clef.

I've been doing very well lately with the items my contact at Edenfantasys has been sending me to review. I've put a lot of thought into my choices, researching the options, and making my selections based on the steadily increasing knowledge of my body all this toy testing has given me. So it did sound as if I would enjoy the Sinfonia. However, I admit that the final choice was based on physical attraction.

I just loved the way the thing looked.

Elegant.
Truly elegant.

Oh, it had all the right specs: silicone (which I always specify now for its texture, safety, and ease of clean-up), waterproof, not uncomfortably fat, and theoretically relatively quiet.

But it's the look of the thing...

Now normally I don't choose black vibrators. I dunno... for some reason they don't appeal to me. Something scary about them. But this one... Elegant. I kept coming back to the word elegant. So I asked for the black rather than the rose. It reminded me of a tuxedo, such as a male classical musician might wear. (Not that a woman couldn't perform in tails. But it's not that common.) I was a little nervous about it. But when it arrived - in record turnaround time - I was glad I had been brave. because it was not scary at all.

Merely elegant.

The packaging didn't hurt. It's a very solid cardboard box with 2 drawers and a top that opens to reveal the Sinfonia nestled in its form-fitting bed. The second drawer has goodies. Useful goodies. Toy cleaner, a cock ring, lube... and best of all batteries (!!!) and a dark wine-colored velvet pouch! The batteries can't cost Close2You that much, but they are such a thoughtful addition that their presence made me immediately inclined to like the company. I love the box, but as my collection grows I find I'd rather have pouches in which to store my toys.

A note here on silicone toys. First, do remember that you should use ONLY water-based lube. Not silicone. And second, silicone can attract lint. Some more than others. So even though you have, of course, washed your mechanical friends before putting them away, it can often be a good idea to give them a quick rinse before playtime.

The Sinfonia is billed as a g-spot vibrator. As you can see, it curves up towards the tip. What I especially like is how it is very slender at that tip, growing steadily wider as you move to the base, which makes it easy to slip in but provides for very satisfying pressure near the pussy mouth. Yum. This is particularly good for someone tight like me.

I didn't even notice until I saw it pointed out in another review that there is a thin seam running up opposite sides of the shaft. I felt nothing, though, even without using a condom (an advantage of silicone toys). What I did feel was wonderful. So wonderful that my first trial was not a very observant one.

Here, then, are excerpts from the report I made to the sadist on that first occasion. As my regular readers know, I must always report to my Master any time I masturbate, as my pussy and my orgasms belong to him. Come back tomorrow for further experiences, which again demonstrate how well the Sinfonia is working as a member of my little chamber orchestra of instruments of pleasure.

In summary:

The Sinfonia?
Bravissimo!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

My housemate came home mid-afternoon, Daddy, so I thought maybe I'd wait till bedtime to cum for you. But the weather... it really made me want to crawl into bed, Daddy, and I wanted to feel close to you again by touching myself for you... and cumming for you.

So I gathered my toys together and selected my favorites: the short stumpy lavender one with the squooshy tip and the two-tone hot pink one that cups in my hand for doing nice things to my clit. And then I took out that new one - the elegant black and grey one.

I started with fingers, to feel my pussy all sweet and soft the way you felt it when you touched me.

I had turned on the elegant black toy, the Sinfonia, when I installed the batteries, so knew it was loud and strong. It didn't feel like something I wanted to start with. So I decided to warm up slowly and, as I said, used my fingers first. And while I was relaxing and softening, Daddy, my mind suddenly somehow connected with being spanked. And my pussy woke up.

Next came my pink clit vibrator. I've learned to pour lube on it, even though it doesn't go inside me, which has me liking it more than I did when I first tested it. I kept it on the first level and, again, just relaxed into it. So nice... such pleasure... sweet pleasure, Daddy... not urgent...

The little lavender Meany took over, still only on the first level. I can't remember if I put it inside me at all, or just ran it gently over my clit and labia. And this too, Daddy, was such sweet pleasure...

Then suddenly my pussy was wide awake, Daddy, and wanting... so I lubed up the elegant black Sinfonia...

Knowing it was loud, and that my housemate was downstairs, I waited until it was inside me to turn it on. So nothing distracted me from the pure sensation of its insertion.

It's a neat shape, Daddy. Curved, pretty narrow and nearly pointed at the tip, widening substantially as it continues to the base. It slipped in easily, just 2 tries to get it all the way in, and the bulk at the base provided such delicious pressure against the perineum. And then oh my, when I turned it on...

It's very buzzy, Daddy, a little harsh, as well as noisy, though not as bad inside me. And like the first toy I was sent, it has lots of settings. 3 levels, I think, of a straight vibration, and then all these different patterns.

For some reason or another, my Master, it had this very powerful mental effect on me. It made me feel as if things were being done to me, as opposed to my being in bed enjoying the pleasure you had granted me. It wasn't even a question of my fantasizing that. The vibrations just put me there. Which of course works very well with my psychology.

I was watching the time, Daddy, wanting a chance to nap after my orgasm before I had to go babysit, so I didn't linger too long on any of the settings. I chugged along from one to the other - and never made it to the end before I could feel myself getting very close.

Then I switched back to the little lavender Meany, because I was afraid the Sinfonia would be too harsh. Perhaps I wouldn't have if I had been alone in the house. But I wanted something right against my clit, and knew I'd be muffling the sounds of my cumming.

It was delicious, Daddy.
In two stages.
I came
and then I kept the soft lavender tip on my clit
and I came some more.

I cried softy,
and rolled over on my side,
and wished I was snuggled against you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

[come back tomorrow for more...]