Base Urges

I enjoyed my Master’s texture challenge the other night even if it was less show and tell and more hide and seek inside my cunt at the time. It was interesting to focus on a different kind of feeling for once when masturbating and concentrate on tactile sensations rather than just the sensation of fullness.

This different focus kept me on my toes nicely to stop myself falling into my old bad habit of rushing orgasms when I masturbate so they don’t really satisfy me properly. Like snacking mouthfuls as you pass the fridge fills your stomach up but doesn’t engage or satiate your brain’s hunger, my tendency to come almost for the sake of it is wasteful.

That kind of functional orgasm does nothing for me. It doesn’t turn me on, it doesn’t help me sleep and it gives my sex drive the same sickly feel as eating too many sweets or snacks between meals. In a long term relationship that makes me as bratty as I’m ever likely to get but in my single days it lead to impulsive sexual decisions like being hopped up on sugar or food colourings from eating junk food.

One of the first things my Master did when he started training me was to regulate this tendency teaching to slow down and savour masturbating so I really got to know my body and feel the orgasms instead of the equivalent of bolting down the main course to get to dessert.

It really worked to focus me on his dominance and not my own flights of sexual fancy and  without being taught to pace myself and be less sexually superficial I would not have been able to submit to my Master properly or stretch myself as much as I have been. Psychologically I’d have lost my nerve if I’d rushed and physically it’s not a good idea to mix haste and large objects.

I haven’t been able to fuck properly for what feels like forever recently. First I was ill. Then that bout of bacterial vaginosis and the the antibiotics I took for it really knocked my cunt off course with it taking ages to get back to normal levels of lubrication. Then life has got in the way of seeing my Master or Princess to actually fuck and if that wasn’t annoying enough, my cunt now has thrush from the antibiotics. My body feels like one of those over stimulated toddlers that needs to sleep but forces itself to stay awake even though it’s miserable.

Some people just get really obviously horny when they go without sex. You know the kind that starts humping the furniture without totally noticing they are doing it? Other people use all that untapped energy to motivate them into other non sexual things like going running to burn off the frustration.

I get irritable and oddly un-sexual despite being incredibly frustrated and horny. It’s like if I don’t have sex I know I’m missing out on something but lose the ability to read the cue and just get grumpy and wound up emotionally while my cunt forgets to connect to my mind. I can’t tell if I’m tired, hungry, thirsty or horny until I’m reminded obviously like someone offers me a cup of tea or tells me to get on my knees for them.

I’m not sure why I’m so bad at translating my own bodily urges but it’s like I need constant reminders to work those almost primal muscles so they stay fit and active. I don’t really understand why my body’s response to a lack of things like food and sex in my day to life is to go into hibernation mode to wait out some kind of famine rather than actively seek out things that are essential bodily needs.

But I end up irritated and out of sorts but without the focus that I’m hungry or horny and need to go and do something about it. Instead I annoy myself with my bad mood and hope someone will offer me a sandwich or a threesome and then my brain finally makes the connection and starts communicating with my cunt or my stomach.

I’m in this stage at the moment but with the added frustration that my cunt is attention seeking in all the wrong ways and not welcoming the feeling of getting fucked. It’s like realising you are starving hungry and then discovering you can’t taste anything because you’ve got the cold.

If my body is forcing me to slow down so much my mind is starting to run away with itself  with ideas of submission to balance it out. I think I might have to ask my Master if he has any ways I can actively submit to him to keep me engaged but not likely to do something ill advised like fuck myself too soon out of frustration.

Only problem is that suddenly everything on that menu looks appetising to me. Now I know why women let men order for them…

Base Urges

Texture

Is there anything more disappointing than a dodgy dildo? I haven’t had the chance to play with the monster my Master bought me for my birthday because there’s a problem with the texture of it. I’m not sure if it’s a fault with the toy itself or the way it’s been stored in the packaging before being sent out.

But it’s not safe to be near my cunt right now sadly so to make it up to me (especially after the awkwardness of taking a two foot long dildo to the Post Office) my Master set me a little challenge. I was to take three toys and compare the textures of them in my cunt before coming round each of them.

It wasn’t about length or girth this time per se but about touch and texture instead so I used it as an excuse to delve deep into my toy box and compare and contrast to make my choices. Although it says a lot that my first stop was actually the fridge for my beloved glass dildo chilled to perfection under the emergency bar of chocolate to start me off.

I love the feel of that glass toy. One side is dimpled and the other is swirled and curled and the toy works best with extremes of temperature. I slid the cool dimpled end inside me and enjoyed the fact that glass is by it’s very nature incredibly firm and inflexible. It’s like the hardest cock possible and that over the top-ness makes it feel so much a like a toy all for the pleasure of playing with.

The unyielding texture of the toy actually works with your cunt more than you’d expect. The cool feel allows the heat of my cunt to transfer to it and the rigidity allows the soft wetness to contrast with it so the toy slides in and out gracefully and gloriously as I fuck myself deeply and steadily with it. The little clink as it slips in as far as possible and skims across the metallic piercing in my swollen clit always pushes me over the edge into an orgasm.

In contrast my next toy was a new experience for me. A little purple jelly vibrator designed to work like a rabbit with clit stimulation, it came free with a Lovehoney order and I’ve never used it on me. Princess responded well to it but it was unchartered territory for my current cunt.

My first ever sex toy was a gift from a friend in that stereotypical pink glittery jelly and I never warmed to it abandoning it quite quickly to go back to using my hand. This was the first time I’d revisited the texture and I suspect it’ll be the last. There’s something about the sticky squishiness of jelly toys that causes my cunt to shrink away from them and considering how tiny this toy is by my standards that’s a very bad thing.

It did not slip inside me anywhere as easily as the glass toy. No glide, more stopping and starting like trying to learn to use the clutch pedal on your first driving lesson than getting fucked. The texture seemed to suck the moisture from my cunt with the wrong kind of friction for fun.

Adding the vibrations didn’t help much. I’m used to the jumbo jet style roar and reverberation of the Doxy and this was more like someone sneezing on my clit instead. Like many starter style sex toys, it has a lot of functions and less impact cycling through all kinds of whispers of vibration that never quite go anywhere. Especially when half the settings seem to involve that on-off buzz pattern that builds to pleasure before dying away in frustration.

I haven’t worked that hard for an orgasm in years with the soft little toy feeling limp and damp inside and against me definitely not filling me up or fulfilling the promise of vibrations. I haven’t felt anything that half hearted near my cunt since I stopped fucking straight men and my orgasm was more like a defiant fuck you to the clammy fumbling toy than actual pleasure.

I was very pleased I’d kept my eternal favourite pink G spot toy from Lovehoney for the finale. Bought as a  substitute for the much more expensive Jopen Comet G spot toy I couldn’t justify spending so much money on, this toy has given me more pleasure than I ever imagined. Made of smooth sleek silicone, I’ve used it in my ass and my cunt and loved it in both.

It has the slight tackiness of silicone that goes with lubrication like salt goes with pepper to compliment and enhance each other and this toy just feels like it comes home in my cunt. Not as rigid as the glass and not as languid as the jelly toy, it feels more like the hardness of an actual cock and my cunt is definitely on home turf with that feel.

Silicone doesn’t seem to absorb heat the same way but it loves lube making it slick and sleek inside you to make sure the toy really builds up good friction against the slightly raised swollen spongy feel of my G spot when I’m really turned on. It butts against it but slips just enough to give a twisting motion that always makes me come so hard I feel like I might squirt as well. And last night was no difference.

I lay back after my third consecutive orgasm and tried to decide which toy was my favourite. I love that clean cool feel of glass and never tire of playing with it but the pink toy just works for me getting me turned on and fucked to orgasm every single time with the least effort. And it’s not just good with myself, both my Master and Princess can use it on me to incredible results too.

I think I might be a silicone slut but Sir has set me another three toys to play with tonight too so who knows…?

 

Texture

Links

Technology is a wonderful thing sometimes. The internet provides me with unlimited opportunities for filth from online shopping for sex toys, erotica, porn and clips and of course, blogging here. I’m an enthusiastic adopter of that side of modern life trust me.

But sometimes technology drives me batshit. Today my phone decided that my Master wasn’t properly in my phone after three years dividing his name and his instant messages  into separate entities like we don’t actually know each other.

Yet at the same time Instagram has a unerring knack of linking me to men I fucked or flirted years ago. Sometimes I double take before I recognise the face or the name. I often raise an eyebrow at the fact they are showing off the domestic life and clearly long term relationship they lied about having before hoping I’d suck their cock.

So many men must think a version of ‘my wife/girlfriend doesn’t understand me’ is a turn on for women to keep trotting that old chestnut out without any self awareness. But as someone whose done some outrageous things to get laid in their lifetime, I try not to judge anyone too harshly for lines and excuses in the hunt for orgasms.

That’s not to say I don’t have some limits though. There are the men who when I see them crop up on my social media having studiously avoided any contact with them for years that make me want to drop my phone in the bin. There’s an ex boyfriend who took bullshit into a new league, the man who literally compared my cunt in detail to his ex wife’s and the common or garden lazy bastards.

These are the men who you meet online who obviously leap at the chance to get their cock sucked by a slutty woman who has approached them and offered to fulfil their fantasies. Just as long as they don’t have to make any effort at all to the point of passive dismissiveness.

They refuse to travel to meet you, not even attempting to come halfway because as one put it, that costs me money you know. No matter what time you arrange, they need to change it to suit them better even when you’ve made it clear it wasn’t up for negotiation. Or they manage their manners til you meet up and then the rudeness starts in small undermining ways like it’s a transaction they don’t even need to pay for.

Seeing those men cross paths with my life again leaves a very bad taste in my mouth. Why Instagram couldn’t have given me the clues about them before I had to learn for myself instead of afterwards huh? Most of my sluttiness took place before there were these online trails and evidence and it unsettles me slightly.

It removes much of the anonymity and detachment I liked about casual sex and I don’t like an intimate object deciding what level of connection I have with someone after sexual contact with them. Bumping into them in street or crossing paths at a party feels very different to be urged to friend them and engage with them in the non sexual aspects of my life.

That’s something I’ve chosen in my relationship with my Master (and Princess) eschewing casual sex along the way. But I want to know that no social media or instant messaging service makes decisions in my life over his orders…

Links

High And Dry

Just before you think my whole life is non stop sex and kinky excitement day to day, I’m here to remind you it’s actually much more every day than you think. In fact the only thing I’m particularly sharing with my Master and Princess right now is that my cunt has gone a bit weird.

And the downside of sex with another woman is that if one cunt goes weird, the other is likely to go weird too and you end up texting each other some very strange Google links about bodily functions you didn’t know you could do.

A quick trip to the the proper doctor rather than just Dr Google tells me I’ve probably got bacterial vaginosis which isn’t really an STI but is very easily passed from one cunt to another if you’re fucking another woman. It’s when the natural bacterial balance of your cunt goes a bit awry and you end up with a low level infection.

I’m not sure if I got it first or Princess did but we’ve ended up with matching symptoms and two different styles of antibiotics to sort it. She went for the oral version and I opted for the vaginal version in a gel. Both of us needed seven days treatment and hopefully problem solved.

Most of my symptoms are now gone except that the antibiotics have left their own annoyance. Basically they’ve killed off the good bacteria as well so suddenly I’ve got no sign of life going on and I’m completely dry no matter how much I get turned on. And it’s bizarre.

I’m so used to my body and mind working together to present a united front when I’m horny that it’s confusing and disappointing when my brain is turned on and I can feel the sexual sensations in my cunt such as my clit swelling and everything tingling and wanting to be touched, but I’m still completely dry.

I know different people’s levels of lubrication varies and illnesses, medications, hormones and stressors can affect it from one time to another but for me the only things that tend to impact me are too much booze or not really wanting to fuck. No matter how much my brain is telling me to be sexual, my cunt knows the truth and I’ve always relied on it as a sensible big sister to stop me fucking for the sake of it by listening to the evidence it’s giving me.

So not being able to get wet at all for my Master last night with the John Holmes toy even with lube or spending the day with Princess after my birthday and feeling like my cunt is hibernating while the rest of me is so ready for sex is actually quite distressing. Logically I know it’s the effects of the antibiotics but I associate lack of wetness with not fancying someone and I hate even briefly having that link with my Master and Princess in my mind.

Like anything else you take for granted, you don’t fully appreciate it until you don’t have it anymore and I hadn’t realised how much I associated the mental thoughts of sexual arousal with the feeling of getting wet until now. I can still come from lots of stimulation on my clit but the orgasms aren’t as good. It’s like eating when you have the cold and you still enjoy your dinner but without your sense of smell and taste together it’s not the same. I’m like Samson with a short back and sides.

I’m trying to see it as a chance to try other things, almost like a prolonged feeling of those ruined orgasms my Master used to train me with to hone my submissiveness and stop me gorging myself on coming and then being too lazy for orders. It’s also teaching me to appreciate different types of touch without my cunt clamouring for all the attention.

If it takes a while to resolve it might be a good time for Sir to start spanking me again or playing with those beeswax candles or some hardcore wax play before I suck his cock. The thought of my own cunt ruining orgasms into submissiveness for me is almost hot but I’m still greedy essentially and would rather have the option to let my cunt be fully used too…

High And Dry

Many Happy Returns

It’s my birthday this week and my Master bought me a present. I’m very impressed that he picked out something that works for all three of us. Something so slutty it requires very specific and precise orders for me to be able to manage it but also something Princess and I can use together.

I mean you could say I’m predictable but I prefer to think that he knows my tastes so well

Many Happy Returns

Self Love

When Princess had things to celebrate this week and Sir wanted to mark the occasion with a little gift there was only one thing it could be. A beautiful glossy die cast Doxy all to herself. No more begging and borrowing mine as reward for good behaviour but her very own toy any time she wants.

She almost succumbed to the temptation to use it then and there before dinner but she delayed the gratification which impressed my Master (and me) no end. It does mean we get to try my Master’s idea of blindfolding her and seeing if she can tell the difference between my Doxy and the die cast version to prove her wand slut credentials once and for all.

But it also made think how different Princess and I are when it comes to masturbation. She loves it as much as fucking, treating it variously as pure enjoyment, self care and foreplay on a regular basis to the point I can almost always guess when she might be masturbating when she’s alone (although she usually surprises me with the number of times she manages to make herself come.)

I, on the other hand, very rarely masturbate especially for myself. I do enjoy masturbation when it is part of my training and submission to my Master or to prepare me for Princess. But I honestly can’t remember the last time I masturbated on my own terms. This is isn’t just because I’m so obedient to Sir’s orders but because it’s never really been my thing.

Before I started actually fucking I did masturbate to distract me from incredibly ridiculously horny all the time I felt as a teenager. I’d probably have done a lot better in my maths GCSE if I hadn’t spent as much time playing with myself when I should have been revising but as soon as I discovered cock in real life masturbation very much fell out of fashion in my world.

Given the choice between making myself come or finding a cock that could, I always picked the cock even if it meant getting dressed, going out and listening to a lot of small talk along the way. Maybe it was laziness or the lack of sex toys in my life at the time but I never looked forward to masturbation as an event in itself.

Even now it seems like second or third best to me and I can’t imagine just masturbating because I’ve got twenty minutes spare or need to get to sleep or had a stressful day. Instead of switching my brain off to concentrate on myself like that, it seems to send me more into myself in an unhelpful way and I find it surprisingly difficult to let go into an orgasm.

Focusing on someone else however relaxes my mind and my cunt completely and makes masturbation into something else entirely. Kind of a combination of enjoyment, performance and pleasure that really turns me on because it gives the other person the opportunity to masturbate too.

There’s something utterly glorious about that thought that makes my stomach pinch in pleasure and my cunt stretch open in anticipation. It’s my kind of audience and knowing I’ve got the feedback of turning someone else switches my brain off and turns me on like nothing else.

Maybe I just need to start asking my Master for permission to play more often and see if I can time it to when Princess is using her new Doxy since that won’t be as infrequent as I am….

Self Love

Meet Me

I met my Master at the tail end of a gruelling year in many ways from a bad break up with an ill advised boyfriend, family issues and two close friends almost dying. Plus for added cliche I had had a wobble about why I wasn’t married and having babies in my mid thirties as that seems to be last acceptable point at which to be single and childless without being seen as desperate or having missed your chance somehow.

In lieu of finding anyone who agreed with my seemingly outlandish idea that relationships didn’t require marriage, babies or mortgages to validate how serious they were I was having a clandestine affair with a married man I knew through work. Being someone’s mistress seemed like the best compromise between not settling down in the suburbs and my temptation to never date again out of sheer bloody mindedness.

In the middle of this I went to a friend’s wedding and met my Master. I don’t remember how we were actually introduced out of all the people there when I knew no one except the bride and he wasn’t actually meant to be there having only stepped in a plus one to help out a friend.

This slight lapse means that my first impression of my Master was thinking he’d be absolutely filthy and that I’d very very much like to fuck him. My second impression took months to actually work out but right from the start he calmed me down. My usual cunt first think second self would have pursued a quick fuck with him and probably still sat down in time for dinner never to see him again.

Instead he got me to behave immediately and actually consider for once that fucking and running wasn’t a good idea (especially since I’d already fucked the married man earlier that day.) Instead we flirted all evening and by text for several months, meeting once more for a drink but nothing more.

I couldn’t read the situation as it was unlike anything else I was used to. It was like he was setting a pace and instead of being bored by a lack of fucking I was enjoying the chase. It was a full three months before things progressed from potential pleasantries into perverted fun.

In the space of about twenty minutes texting one evening just before Christmas we discussed kink and I had my hand down my knickers for him greedy for the pay off of all those months of waiting.

But it wasn’t quite as simple as it sounds. My cunt loved the idea of being told what to do but my heart and mind wasn’t so sure about being controlled. I was in the process of stepping away from people who felt entitled to control my life and I was cynical about walking towards someone saying they wanted me to obey them from the outset.

I don’t know if my Master sensed just how skittish I was about trusting anyone at this stage in my life or if he just assumed that I was being cautious about committing to kink. But he went very carefully introducing just enough moderation to each filthy text based task to make sure I had to obey each stage to get my rewards from him without barking orders at me that would make me bolt.

He offered me the full D/s relationship up front or a fling if I preferred and unable to trust my own judgement after a lifetime of bad judgements with men I opted for the latter not realising he was training me from the very outset.

The first time we fucked he left work early after I gave him my address and left my front door open so a man I’d met twice could let himself into my house and find me waiting for him with my fingers in my cunt. In that moment he proved to me that he would not misuse the trust I was putting in him.

For the first time I understood that introducing a power dynamic to a relationship didn’t mean only one person had power but that it was shared. That you can’t have dominance without willing and active submission and anything else is an abuse. I had always been led to believe that to want to submit was somehow weakness on my part and an excuse to misbehave on other people’s but here was a man who valued that submission.

It was incredibly hot. I don’t think I’d ever had as many orgasms as in that first six months that my Master was training me. But I also found it incredibly challenging. Considering how naturally it came to me to submit, it was an active effort to keep trusting and believe that the developing relationship was genuine.

The hardest part for me was that my Master never gave me any reason to doubt or distrust him and so I knew all that fear and hesitation was coming entirely from me and my baggage and that the only way for me to get past it was to outrun it. If I’d discussed it with my Master I knew I’d just be bringing a different edition of the same shit with me in my head.

Instead I kept going to see my therapist and concentrating on being so present in my submission I didn’t have room to carry anything else with me in my head that distracted from it. I didn’t imagine where the relationship was going or what it meant for the future (possibly a bit too much so I didn’t quite realise what the offer of the collar really meant from him at the time.)

I was just sure there would be a moment when the submission and my ability to trust would feel equally easy and create an equilibrium and I’d know that that shit was in the past rather than trying to muscle in on the present all the time.

And I was right. That moment was actually the first time my Master introduced Princess and I in our first threesome when I went from thinking ‘what if?’ as if looking back about everything he instructed me to do and started thinking ‘why not?’ as if looking forward. That  moment I began to trust myself as much as I trusted him.

Being my usual slightly slow self it took me a while to see the emotional significance of the particular moment but now makes perfect sense. I can’t imagine a relationship with my Master without Princess and vice versa but at the time I simply couldn’t believe how different my life was in the space of a year with my Master being so patient with me.

Turns out you can do a lot when you trust the right person to make decisions for you….

Meet Me