I have a New Master

I had lunch with the Gorean Master from the party last week on saturday, to sort out my own head and talk with him. Lunch went on for a while, and afterwards neither of us seemed particularly keen to go anywhere so we wandered around downtown for a bit. In fact, neither of us really wanted to leave each other's company, so, we didn't.

He drove me home - with my hands cuffed behind me - and I went to fetch what I needed for the rest of the day. Shortly after heading out he pulled over and had me lie down on the back seat, where he cuffed me again, blindfolded me and bound my ankles. I'd just been 'abducted'.

It was a long drive back to his place. I didn't even know where the heck we were going, though I could tell when we got on the motorway. It was a very sublime experience, lying tied in the backseat with no visual reference, with him murmuring things to me to keep me in the headspace (like I wasn't there already) and occasionally reaching back to fondle me. Most definitely thrilling.

Once at his place he unbound my ankles but left me blindfolded and handcuffed as he lead me inside and up to the living room, where I knelt on the rug while he straightened things up and got changed. It was certainly something to have him take off the blindfold and be confronted with him decked out all in viking gear, complete with drinking horn (a Torvaldslander, perhaps?) and also didn't give me much time to process the rest of the room before he drew the blade at his hip, pressed it to my throat and gave me the traditional Gorean option of servitude or death. I could tell the knife was blunt but damn what a head rush. You know which one I picked, and I drank from his horn.

He stood me up and switched my cuffs for a sirik. I still hadn't had time to even process the room we were in, the world might as well have been just us. Interesting mind trick. He stood me on his shield and sliced my clothes off me (prearranged, so at least I wasn't losing anything I didn't know would be lost!) and had himself a little 'auction' to ritualistically buy me. Gor is full of rituals, but this was the first time I'd ever really experienced any of them. All Gorean slaves are sold naked. I was frightened, my tension showed it, and it wasn't lost on him. We might have played before and I trusted him, but I still had no real idea what he wanted of me (as a matter of fact, I still don't).

I couldn't exactly say the rest of the day was 'languid', but it wasn't as fast-paced as a BDSM scene. Unfortunately I tend to remember the bad bits more clearly than the good bits. I spent a time in the kitchen doing his dishes, and he spanked me with the wooden spoon I had neglected, which left me blubbering like a baby for a good while. My ass was still tingling from it when I woke up the next day, and it actually left faint bruises. He tested out several of his floggers on me through the day, pushing past my pain threshold with each but thankfully not far, and he also got out a hitachi vibrator twice and left me a puddle of orgasmic mush. The second time was with some painfully tight nipple clamps in place, and he took them off with vibrator in place. The pain was enough that it actually denied me orgasm despite being on the brink.

One ritual that I had been hoping would be neglected was the initiatory whipping. Well, it wasn't neglected, not in the slightest. He took me down to his dungeon and had me straddle a horizontal, padded pole, chaining my wrists and fitting a spreader bar. He had quite an impressive array to use on me, but the first he brought out was my tiny little red suede flogger. I will never, ever underestimate that little thing ever again because he made it bloody HURT! They all bloody hurt, I was crying through most of it, though he gave me time to recover and he told me later that he was only using a fraction of his full strength. He spent a fair bit of time comforting me, and then took me home. It had gone past ten and we hadn't even stopped for dinner.

The first day for a slave is hardly typical. I don't think I could stay with him if he pushed me as hard as he did that day on a regular basis. I guess I won't really find out until our next day together.

He's picked out a slave name for me, but I don't get to hear it until the next time we're together. He's also sending me some fabric to make up some slave garments with. I probably haven't represented events completely clearly here, like I said I frequently remember the bad clearer than the good, but I do remember that it felt right, and I can't wait to see where it goes. For the first time in months I feel truly sexual and sensual again, the barriers are dropping, and I am finally free again to grow.

Gorean-space

Out of the blue on saturday I got an invite for a play party that night. I wasn't even sure if I was going to go, it was already getting late by the time I saw the email. I did though, and I'm glad I did. The guy who invited me gave me a lift, and on the way there I found out he is in fact a Gorean Master.

Shock, wonder. A Gorean Master, a single Gorean Master, a local single Gorean Master. Maybe there's still hope for me here after all. If it weren't for his age I would definitely try things with him, but he must be at least twice my age, so I don't know ...

The party itself was well underway by the time we arrived. There were the remains of a barbeque, and a huge chocolate cake for later (as it was the host's birthday party). There were several rooms set up for play, with signs everywhere that this was a very kinky household. I'm going to have to get tips when I'm creating my own hardware.

I didn't really have any intention of playing, just to go with the flow. I'd been missing my rope though, so during dessert I changed into my tight, short (very short) black dress and pulled out the rope with the idea to challenge the doms present to tie me so I couldn't wiggle free.

I didn't get very far with that plan though. The Gorean wound the rope about my waist and led me to one of the play rooms. He took me by the hair, set me on my knees and cuffed my hands behind me. Instant subspace. To an observer it probably wouldn't have looked like he was doing much as he continued, but he manipulated me so well. I was trembling almost the entire time.

He had this neat device, a serving tray that could be strapped on so it could be carried with my hands still cuffed behind me. It was almost too big to be secured about my waist, but he put it on over the ropework, and took me out to the living room where most of the guests were. I am glad for the mirror that was on the wall so I could see him through most of the room as he added first his drink, then mine to the tray. If I hadn't been so spaced I think I would have felt rather foolish, it wasn't exactly an elegant piece of equipment ... I feel rather foolish remembering now.


He took me back to the play room, took off the tray and undid the ropework. Then he had me kiss his boots. It's not something I have done before, nor something I had even thought of as appealing, but hey, he had nice clean boots, and I didn't hesitate. The smell of the leather, kneeling small at his feet, it is as intoxicating as I had imagined. I ended up stopping the kissing fairly quickly and just lay there, breathing the scent of the leather and basking. He unhooked the cuffs and brought my wrists up to cross before me, my head lifting but still bowed, kneeling with my thighs spread. He asked if I knew this position.

Oh like anyone even vaguely familiar with Gor could not know it. He put me in the position of submission. Did this mean he really wanted me for his own? Could I live up to his expectations? Did I want to? It was too much for me, and sent me into subdrop.

I'd avoided doing any serious play for this reason, because I knew it would end in a crash. I've been aching for it for so long, but I'm still scared. Scared of being hurt again, of failing, of falling in love when it could never be permanent. I want my next relationship to be one that can last, but am I just setting myself up to be lonely for a very, very long time?


I am still thinking things over and don't really know what I am going to do, but despite the fact that the little period of submission had been a complete surprise and not negotiated in the slightest, I don't regret it. He stayed with me through the drop and made sure I was okay, the scene reminded me just how wonderful Gor and submission could be, and it's brought my sex drive back to life. Oh has it ever, I've been daydreaming ever since.

Just the Little Pleasures

Last night I went to a local play party that consisted of more than six people for the first time in ... at least a year and a half, more like two. Getting an invite was a bit of a fluke, I met one of the attendees at SE and he insisted on tying me up.

It was a good party. Not the crowd I normally hang out with but I knew about a third of the people there. There was a barbeque and a kinky secret santa, then the play started.

I expected, after my inviter's excessive bragging and numerous and vehement assertions that his interest was just in the rope and trying me up, that he would actually be good and not sexually focused. He got quite possessive and subtly shooed off the three other people I had been talking/flirting with who were watching and kept sneaking strokes even though I was still fully dressed, and my hands went numb before he even finished the chest harness. It was meant to be my first suspension, but after standing there for thirty, maybe forty minutes and having him chase away the people I was actually having fun with I was rather glad of the excuse to be let free.

I spent a lot of time getting cuddly with the young and cute russian, a specialist flogger who is going home in a day or two. Oh he was very, very cute, smelled good too. Once the table had been cleared I got stripped down to my knickers and tied bent over it and he got to practice some extra gentle technique. First time with a single tail whip, and it stung like hell, even if he was going as softly as he could. I could hear (vaguely) the others who were watching laughing and commenting on my cute little squeals, and him assuring them he was going as gently as possible despite my frequent safewording! I was sitting sideways for a while afterwards.

A Mistress took a flogger to me later on, considerably more gently and teasing. I came very close to climaxing right on the table. She has been informed that she now owes me an orgasm, damnit! Her timing was impeccable.

The russian actually asked me to come back to his place afterwards. I can't even remember anyone asking me that before that I wasn't dating, but despite how flattering it was it really stirred me up in a bad way. I didn't really know what he might be expecting, how I might react to the situation, if I might end up regretting it later. I turned him down. Even though I know I'm going to be wondering what I missed out on for ages, at this point I'd rather do that than regret doing it. I'm really still an emotional ticking time bomb, and I don't even know how big the charge is. Of course after I said I wasn't going home with him he went to chase the tail of a Mistress. Rejected.

Gee, for a sex blog, I don't write much about sex, do I?

Morning Bliss

I set the book on my dresser, finished. It's the Claiming of Sleeping Beauty, and while the last few chapters aren't particularly erotic, for me at least, I tentatively reach down to have a fondle of my clitoris. There's no underwear, I gave up wearing underwear to bed a few months ago for health and comfort reasons (it is apparently a very good idea to let genitalia breathe), and I'm not quite used to it yet, but after fiddling with the button for a bit I reach down to see how wet I am.

Oh I'm very wet. I smear the juices up and down for a bit, spreading it over my clit, before sinking a finger deep inside myself. Very, very wet, that was too easy, so a second finger goes in, and I push hard in just the right spot and I instantly orgasm.

It's the holidays for me so I have the house to myself, I could play without fear of my noise attracting unwanted attention, and I thought it was about time I got out my vibrator again. It has been a long time since I last used it, since well before we moved actually, perhaps even a whole year since I used it alone on myself, though it got some exercise at the weekend away. So I get up and go wash my hands (very, VERY wet), shed my nightgown and pull out vibrator and batteries. I'd only recently learned the trick of keeping the batteries out when it was idle, though I can't think why I hadn't thought of it myself, and as I tested the strength I'm very glad I learned it as it's running as strong as though the batteries were fresh.

Its a very simple vibrator, my first and only, not so long and not so thick, not waterproof, with a simple twisting knob on the top to alter speed, smooth and straight. They're probably $20-30, but it serves me well enough.

So I lay down, spread my legs wide and gently rub the tip over my clit. For now it's off, just letting it slide over my flesh, getting it nice and slick in my own lube, imagining a man pinning me down, teasing me with his cock in such a way, then I lower it and slide it inside quick. Oooh it's been too long since I had something inside me.

I keep jostling the knob so it turns on, but for now I want it off, just feeling it slipping in and out of me, pressing deep. Soon enough I turn up the vibrations, low at first, sliding it out a couple of times to run it over my clit, before turning it up high and ramming it in. I'm crying out as I cum over and over, clutching wildly at my pillow, at my headboard, writhing and thrusting my hips against an imaginary lover. I cannot contain my cries, nor do I want to, and I've long ago given up counting orgasms, as I normally lose count in the high twenties, and I'm probably already nearing that number.

I grasp my left breast, tweaking the nipple briefly before pinching it as hard as I can as the vibrator moves vigorously in and out. I can just imagine lips and teeth there, tasting, biting. I pause for a quick breather before assaulting the other breast, the same images flashing behind half-closed eyes, then the vibrator is out and just brushing the tips of my nipples on its highest setting, and I shiver.

Its back at my cunt in moments, turning the setting down, teasing just at the entrance, probing just inside. I can feel the liquid running down the crack of my ass. Would a Master enjoy tormenting me this way? Would he like to hear me beg to have him inside me? To take me, rape me as he willed? I thrust it deep, there's an edge of pain, but I want it. I push hard and fast, writhing as I claw at the bed with my free hand, the twinge of pain telling me he wants me, he will take me as he pleases, and right now that is roughly and desperately.

I am going like this for some time, round after round with only brief breathers, altering the setting or almost withdrawing. Time has no meaning as I abandon myself to my own pleasure. I think of my Master coming upon me like this, pleasuring myself so shamelessly, striding over to me and wrenching the vibrator from my hand, throwing it to the floor so he may thrust himself into me and have his own way with me. Or perhaps he will pin my hands, taking me even more violently with the vibrator than I have myself before finally impaling me with his cock.

I'm starting to get a bit raw now, and I reach to turn it down and finish. Here's how well I know my own toy - I turned the knob the wrong way, right up to full, and after that I couldn't stop, but had to ride out yet another round of writhing orgasms.

Slowly I withdraw it and turn it down. There's sticky stuff all over it, right up to the adjustment knob, but I don't want to get up and wash it just yet, so I prop it up where it won't slick up anything else and I collapse back on the bed.

Here's a quirk to my masturbation. I might be able to orgasm as many times with a vibrator as with a play partner, but not as deeply nor as long, nor as satisfyingly. To do that I must use my hands, through cloth to let the texture abrade my flesh and bunch over my clit, but I only get one when I do, and that's how I finish when I use the vibrator.

A fresh pair of knickers from the laundry pile is spread over my cunt and my hand over it, rubbing gently at first. I'm still tired, but determined to finish with one last big one. I clutch my pillow to my front, the fabric rubbing my nipples, clutching with my thighs as though it were a set of hips that was grinding against me. My head falls back and my back arcs so I'm right off the bed, and I think of Him, where ever and who ever he may be. I think of him spreading my legs forcefully and leaning down to press his body against mine, of him grasping my hair and turning my head so he may bite my neck where I can almost feel the collar, sucking at my nipples and kissing me violently as he thrusts into me. It's not quite enough, so I dream further. He leans down and whispers in my ear what a hot and wet little slut I am, that I am his, and that I'm going to cum for him. It's a trick that works almost every time, and I can feel that steep peak building, moaning as I imagine him thrusting harder, faster, as my hand works furiously, and then I explode with a scream.

I stretch out languidly on the bed, still trembling, and am thankful that my window faces in the opposite direction to our neighbour's house.

And now after washing and putting away my toy and sitting here in my knickers and dressing gown to write this post, its about time I went and got ... lunch, since it's now well past breakfast time.

Round and Round the Merry-Go-Round

I've had a go at starting a few posts in the past couple of weeks, but they've not been finished. Perhaps later I will finish them, but not now, since they are filled with the depression and self-doubt I've been feeling lately. (Also the reason why no HNT last week, and iffy about this week right now.)

I am considered a needy slave. In that I need a measure of stability, affection, care and time. Apparently this is demanding. And don't even think of saying that they're pushing too hard or are doing something abusive, because then you're being bratty and whiny.

Bah, jerks.

On a slightly lighter note, I went to a shibari party hosted by a couple of new friends on Sunday. Despite being in the scene a few years this was something new for me. I'd been to play parties before, but not specfically a shibari party.

Despite arriving late, I, Dee and Kiana were the first ones there. Velvet Steel, the hosting dom, has a most impressive 'black room', with a dresser and wardrobe full of toys and kinky books and a bed with more eyehooks and hardpoints than I've ever seen in a single room.

Things were a bit slow to start up, probably because he was the only dom with four subs around. It was some time before any others showed up, and by then he had tied and/or fondled all the others save me, and he seemed disinclined to do so. It did a real number on my ego and hurt far more than it really should have. Yet when he did eventually turn the rope on me I was not pleased. My wrists still hurt. He might claim to like pain just to see us squirm, but he's fooling himself, and I doubt I'll let him touch me again.

Kiana did a very artsy chest harness on me, which I hope to get photos of soon. She's very neat with her ropework, which despite her being sub will serve her well when she gets into kinky photography (its blogged now Kiana, you have to do it!).

Another dom there (whom I have yet to think of a nickname for) tied me wrists to ankles, secured at either end of a spreader bar. He had a lot of fun with me trussed up like that, and so did I, despite having to safeword out once when he hit me waaaay too hard (everyone over-estimates my pain tolerance). I hope I get to play with him again!

And I'm already craving rope and chains and submission again. Woe.

The Importance of Keeping Your Mouth Shut

Up until just now I had no idea what I was going to name this post, but I think it fitting. If I hadn't kept my mouth shut, the reason for me writing would not have happened, which would have been a real shame and probably would have made the day rather sour. Because this post is about play time.

For a bit more background, the Satyr and I used to go out. There were unfortunately various problems, some linked to past trauma of mine, and quite a few to do with communication. When we finally sat down and talked things through we found we wanted quite different things. I'm very glad that we've remained close - there's very few I can be really at ease around.

Being at ease unfortunately doesn't mean being open. I don't know what keeps me from doing so with him, it might be the previously-mentioned trauma, but as he is the only one I've started a new relationship with since then I can't be sure. Its led to some awkward situations and some major miscommunication.

On Friday night he came around for the watching of dvds. Unexpectedly we ended up having the house to ourselves. There were many warm cuddles, and some serious flirting. Some serious serious flirting. Yet I could still feel that wall inside, that damned wall that despite being so at ease with him just would not crumble, jabbing at my insides whenever I gave it a nudge. I have to wonder if it gives me a glazed look or something from his comments. No sweet Satyr, you're not meant to know what that look means, that's the whole purpose of a mask. I was almost literally biting my tongue at his question - first instance of keeping my mouth shut. Its never a good topic, almost guaranteed to leave me in tears.

At one point I offered to show him a rather revealing piece of lingerie I had recently acquired. And then to model it. It was a rather cold night, so it took a bit of mental prodding on my own part, but I so wanted to see that look on his face, and I was certainly rewarded when he stepped back into my room. His hands were cold to start, but it felt so good to be touched again, and they warmed fast. In fact the whole room got quite warm fast, warm enough for him to shed his jersey, and for my shaking to not be from the chill any more.

He pulled me onto his lap, whispering in my ear just what he could do with me in such a garment, his hands demonstrating hot on the heels of his words. The panicky part of me was yelling to tell him to say, not show. That night though it had fallen in a pit and was sounding rather faint, so I was actually able to tell it to shut up. Second instance of keeping my mouth shut.

Then he swept me up in his arms and laid me down on my bed, and that's when I felt the wall finally vanish, laid out trembling and vulnerable beneath him.

Is it any wonder that I enjoy submission so much when its the only time I feel like myself?

I love to feel a man's hands on me. I love to writhe and squirm and moan for them, to show them what a slut I can be, to delight them with my responses. I can't stop to think with him touching me, and that's probably a good thing, because odds are I would over-analyse the situation. His hands on my skin, on my breasts, inside me, that's all there is.

Then he asked if I would like him to cum.

Oh crap, here? On my bed?

Many times I've felt like a selfish lover with him, getting off so much from his touch, never giving the same in return, and always feeling guilty. As much as I want him to enjoy as much as I am, I hit that mental block again. Yet more trauma scars. How can I ask him to leave, or to wait? I know what it is prompting such a response, but I can't even trust myself to speak, for fear of spoiling it all.

So I say nothing, and trust and hope that he will do what he feels comfortable with.

Soon enough he frees his cock, as big and hard as I have ever seen it, and strokes himself to orgasm. And I am very glad that I kept my mouth shut, because I liked seeing just how much he enjoyed it too, despite my initial reaction.

Curled up on the bed with him, the lingerie long ago discarded, we basked and dozed and chatted. I could feel the wall going up again brick by brick. Sigh. But at least I had something warm and fuzzy to keep with me behind it until it came down again.

Was a much nicer return to reality than it could have been, as we were still like that when we heard my mother in the hallway, having completely missed the door, and snapping the wall up that fast isn't so nice. I'm glad I had been in a dressing gown already before she left, so she wasn't surprised when I came out in it to divert her from poking in my room. Though she didn't know that now I was naked under it!

Starting with a bit of a Bang

(No, not that kind of banging, unfortunately.)

Today I finally got the photos from the most recent play party I went to, which was very nearly two weeks ago now. 353 shots through the entire day. I think the cameras were a bit worn out afterwards.

I can't even remember who had mentioned it, at a small get-together after a local bdsm munch of a few close friends the weekend prior, of the possibility of having our own little play party, at an empty house the Satyr was sitting. I don't even know if everyone even took it seriously, but apparently enough did for it to become reality, and I'm so very glad it did.

The morning I spent with the Satyr taking sexy photos. It actually accounts for less than half the total I have. Some are truly drool-worthy and perhaps, with some editing, I'll post them later. It was a good warm-up. It gave me some time to relax and get comfortable in my own skin again, to help ease the chronic shyness I have. There was talk of having me all trussed up and blindfolded in time for people walking through the door, but alas, everyone turned up early! Within five minutes we had a full house.

It felt a bit strange at first as people settled into the idea of what we were here for. As the dress I had been modelling in at the time just would not behave, it quickly ended up on the floor and I spent a while lounging in the buff on my fuzzy mink rug (I can so recommend one of these for play, and not play - wonderful).

The length of black silky rope I had bought months and months beforehand was finally broken in with a karada, and boy it felt good. Kiana and her partner played with their hemp, and it wasn't long until Dee was laid out with Phoenix tormenting her with those delicious boots and a pretty purple crop. (I incidentally have photos with this crop and the misbehaving dress. I could be so hot as a domme.)

Somewhere along the line after a bit of cooling down Phoenix suggested a game of 'I have never ... wanna?' which turned out to be a spectacular idea. Phoenix had herself a good spanking and got nice and red. Satyr finally got to tie two girls together. The pegs were got out for me, and I think they just about had to sit on me to stop me squirming long enough just to find enough spare skin to attach them to. I wasn't quite paying attention at that time. They were medium pressure soft-edged pegs, the only kind I would let near me. And yeah, they hurt, and despite my complaining I still enjoyed it, and probably would enjoy them more with a better sub-high.

There was a full round of 'I have nevers' that I can't fully remember, before Phoenix got a turn at being mummified in plastic wrap, complete with spandex hood. It was certainly a hot scene, though it got rather lonely sitting on the couch just watching everyone else torment her. After some serious torture with the hitachi she was cut out and allowed to recover, and I got my turn as well (minus spandex hood - I felt too hot in the face with it on, so a couple of layered blindfolds for me).

Being wrapped up is certainly an interesting experience. They did two layers since the first was a touch loose, and laid me down. I could not tell what they were using but damn some of it tickled infuriatingly! Despite constant assurances that you couldn't feel the sting of impacts through the wrap, I so could. It was a lot more spread out and kind of muffled, but it still stung. The sting is what really hurts for me, but at least with the wrap it was just within limits. No doubt without the wrapping I would have been a huddled little ball of blubbering tears. I surprised people by being able to roll over on my own, and I think I surprised more than a few when, through my excessive writhing, I managed to split the wrapping. Left my ass bare to the cool air, and to further tormenting! I couldn't stop laughing and squealing. The hitachi on my nipples was enough to get me off with ease, and I so want to try it without the wrap now. On the absolute lowest setting!

Once I had recovered we all got dressed to go get food. I was in all black with strappy heels, and a steel-boned white brocade waist cincher. Yes I was trying to draw looks, how did you guess? Not sure how well I succeeded, though I did catch a few drivers staring through their darkened windscreens.

A game of strip pokerdice was had once all were fed, and once people began getting nakie (with winners stripping the losers, what fun!), forfeits were had with the winner of the round deciding something for the loser to do, or have done to them. Another first for me - having a girl suck my nipples. And despite being very straight I have no complaints!

Dee got trussed up spread-eagled (or as near as could be managed on a lazy-boy) and blindfolded, and everyone who wanted to got to have a go at teasing or tormenting her. She certainly looked like she was enjoying it, and after me looking pouty for a while the Satyr obliged by hogtying me and leaving me on the couch. A game I used to play with a previous Master involved him trying to hogtie me as securely as he could manage, and leaving me to wriggle out of it. And I happen to be quite good at it, being fairly flexible and having delicate wrists. I was out in moments.

Kiana's partner, who happens to be quite good with rope, tied me up next, and while it took me a bit longer I was out again fairly quickly. I doubt he was really trying to stop me, but it would have been a lot more satisfying if he was ... though also probably impossible. A third tie, with my hands and feet together in front of me, and the Satyr decided to try and distract me from escaping. Which he did very well! But still I got free! I am the Teeny Houdini!

Once Dee had had her fill, I got to take her place. Kiana's partner was testing a theory that any implement of torture, if used correctly and with the right measure of force, can be used on anyone. Being particularly sensitive, I turned out to be the perfect test subject. There were some strikes that, if I had not been so over-whelmed with other rapid-succession sensations and already quite spaced, I probably would have safe-worded on. I've certainly not been pushed to such a level, by anyone. It actually felt good.

Around midnight, after ten hours, a night was called, toys were packed and the room put back together. It is something that I dearly hope we will be able to repeat at some point in the not-too-distant future, especially since I didn't get to use everything in my toybag!