This was Sir’s reply:
None of my relationships up to this point had given me what I most desire.
And I’m not talking kink. Sex is easy. It’s everything else that’s hard.
Since our first talk, I wake up every day to his words, images. He lets me know that he thinks of me. In turn he wakes up to my words.
The first time I saw his messages I cried. The tender thoughts, always keeping my feelings in mind, always asking me to tell him everything. Never having to censor myself. It’s what I’ve always dreamed of. Lol, I’m still trying to get used to it!
He encourages me. He brings me the courage to do the things I’ve always wanted to, but never could. He knows my mind, soul and body so much better than I do.
Since sir went home Sunday what I miss most are those tender moments. Sharing coffee at the dining room table, just talking. Naked collar,cuffs soft blanket or sweater. Warm comfortable. I feel totally at ease, they way he looks at me makes me melt.
Laying my head on his lap while he watches tv. Falling fast to sleep. Not because I’m tired, but because I’m safe , I’m where I belong.
Cuddling with him and never wanting to leave his arms. Fitting perfectly into him. The ying to his yang. These are the things I miss most.
Brain me still has a hard time with this, not accepting his warmth, but more believing I’m worth it. Acknowledging that he appreciates me as much more than a group of holes to be used. That’s my doubt, placed there by the others that came before him. Everyday it is growing less. Everyday I trust him more. This is truly a scary process.
I feel complete when he touched me.
He sees me, really sees me.
The first night, when he took off the blindfold and I looked in his eyes it was magic. I was on his lap, never having seen him before, just a waist sincher, collar, cuffs and heels. Feeling perfectly comfortable. There are no words to explain how happy my soul was to be in his arms, to look in his eyes. His eyes have such amazing warmth to them. We kissed hugged, even laughed.
We talked at the table shared food and wine with Celtic Christmas carols and candle light. It was the most romantic experience I’ve had to date. It felt like he belonged there. Like the hole I’ve walked around my whole life with was filled, brimming with happiness. Just a simple hand being held. Such a small but meaningful gesture. To let me know when we are speaking he is there, 100% there with me. That’s what I want, what I need.
Don’t get me wrong, the sex is great, the kink wonderful, but the way our souls connected is the best thing by far.
HE completes me.
I am HIS pain slut.
I am HIS cum slut.
I am HIS slave.
I am owned.
I am HIS.
Every Wednesday is my advance vinyasa class. Prior to sir, it was the pain I gave myself. They only night of the week I slept. I never orgasmed in this class, occasionally I would get wet.
I know edging on this pain would be easy, I can close my eyes and reach an edge in seconds. My body, mind and soul are that well trained a mere 3weeks and 2days later.
So yesterday evening sir said lets do a scientific experiment. I’ve been a good girl so as a reward I could cum at yoga. After I had to compare that orgasm to the ones on the phone and the ones in person.
It was horrible. Since our first night speaking I’ve had no orgasms with out him. Even though I had his permission, it wasn’t right. I felt guilty, empty, I can cum on command, I’m always ready. I can go from discussing a shopping list to a slave on the floor ready and dripping at a moments notice. But I didn’t know that readiness was only for sir. I need him to be with me. Even if it’s on the phone, I need him to hear me, direct me, my body only responding to his needs, not my own.
Below is my message to him on the bus home:
I’ve always lived 90% of my life in my head. My imagination taking me places my body won’t.
After the night that I discovered my hard limit of fisting was more enjoyable than I could ever describe, I now want more.
I want to watch sir teach a girl how to do that to me. I want to watch him guide her with such care, knowing how much I need this experience, to lock eyes with him as she enters me and I fall fast into my slave mind space, knowing he is there and I will be safe.
I want to be tied standing up arms and legs spread wide, watching sir push his cock into her as she turns her her hand and makes me scream. I want to see sir so happy that he is enjoying this girl with me and that no matter the request I will always obey him. I can picture sir just about to cum telling me that I can join him. Then exploding, both of us squirting all over the faceless girl. Having sir take me on to his lap telling me that I was such a good girl as I cry and shake.
I have an undeniable need to fill all of my holes. Ball gag, hands bound behind me, clover clamps on my nipples. The faceless girl now knowing how to please me with her fist not needing to be guided. Sir behind me having me bent over the slave station, girl on her knees below me. Cuffs attached both ankles and wrists to the slave station, no way to move. Holes open wide. Fist already in my cunt hole, every 10 seconds one lick of my clit, I’m dripping wet. All pain and pleasure. Sir entering my slave hole, me screaming from that good pain. Him completing my fantasy of being completely used. Fucking me hard, telling me to edge not cum. Keeping me there for what seems like forever, him enjoying my tears. Faceless girl staying on her knees. Sir knowing I’m coming undone, whispering in my ear to cum. And I do hard screaming crying collapsing, unconscious. Waking up to sir petting my head wrapped around my body, sweet kisses to my cheek, him being so proud of the cum slut I’ve become, faceless girl fast sleep pushed up to the front of me.
It is becoming increasingly important to me to have sir complete my list of firsts, and it’s not out of kink reasons. I want to share everything with him, let him experience every emotion with me. I am his.
The crop is hard and fast. Hitting my cunt and clit. When sir says to cum, I come in the same matter, hard quick, an orgasm for every slap.
Every first experience is the best.
Then the holding, the praise of good girl. Being able to cuddle and the knowledge of his pride at my need for pain. He completes me. He knows my needs and what my body and souls react to much better than me.
I thought I would be afraid of it. Sir knows that he can train me to cum with just the sound.
I was bent over the slave station. Whipped on my ass. Fuck I love that feeling, I came over and over. He whips me knowing it’s what I want. He gives it to me because I am his good girl.
After I collapse on the floor, unable to speak or move. Sir is so kind and gentle with me. He gets my soft blanket covers me, makes sure I’m ok, mental and physical.
I’m writing this from a semi/Slave state
I have so much more to explain to you sir.
The sound as it breaks through the air is wondrous. Before sir used it he cracked it in the other room. The first time I heard it my body quivered. I wanted to scream to him “please sir” begging him to use it on me. Beg him not to stop to bring me over and over to an uncontrollable frenzy of an o. My problem is never knowing my limit in that state, always begging to get more. I love the pain that much. I need it that badly.
The whip is by far my favorite, it is the one thing that most scared me,. I know now it was because I needed it so badly. It makes me feel owned. The pain is sharp and lingers. I turn that pain into the most intense pleasure. I could cum right now with just the sound of it.
Sir said he could train me to do that, I didn’t believe him. I really need to learn not to doubt what he says. But the experience is something no words can explain.
The welts are beautiful. Sir took a picture so I could see. Their not like bruises, nasty and discolored. They are dainty, fine pink lines. They look perfect on a woman’s ass. I would find myself light touching them. Getting a quick jolt of good pain each time. It was so sad(from my soul) when they faded.
I want to be able to let the last bit of me go. To cry and cum, to loose that last hold on my brain side, to give into only the feelings. This is what I have the most trouble with. I’ve cried before, but not the way my soul needs to. The whip is what I believe can make this happen. I long to be tied up spread eagle and to feel that pain from the single tail as it hits me. To collapse still standing. I want the feel and emotion to roll over me like a Mack truck, unstoppable.
The problem with crying is most definitely a carry over from my prior d. He made me cry, he hurt me badly all in the name of what he saw as bdsm. It was not. When I cried for him he got harder. His eyes changed, he scared me so badly that I hold back, afraid of my tears.
Sir is not like that. He makes me feel secure and cared for. My tears are a gift I want to give to him and I know I will be able to soon.
We waited, we meshed, we built trust. All amazingly important things when starting a “sane bdsm” relationship.
There were times it was torture. I just wanted to feel him. To be held on his lap, to hear that all important good girl. To hear him moan when I pleased him.
I agreed to something so far removed from my normal character. He said it was an experience he never had. He would come to my house. I dressed as directed collar, royal blue waist sincher , black dress, heels, bare legs, ankle and wrist cuffs, blindfold. The house would be lit by 25 candles. Soft music playing. Door unlocked me kneeling and waiting for him.
I prepped for days, cleaning, shopping, more out of nerves and need to set a perfect scene for him. Even giving myself an enema prior to his arrival. Edging over and over as I prepped for him, knowing it was all to make him happy.
One glass of wine before he arrived.
I knelt, getting wetter and wetter. So wet there was a literal puddle on the floor.
He came in and asked me a question about my friend. My voice changed, I didn’t realize it, but he did. He lightly slapped my face. We have a think/feel something say it agreement. He apologized for coming in and asking about someone else. That slap was needed, as I don’t realize when things affect me sometimes.
Sir inspected me. He grabbed me and kissed me, telling me to cum. After 500+ edges I came, I came hard. Since I was in a blissful slave state for most of this time I can’t recall everything and the time frames may be mixed up.
I think he put my chain on, he clipped my hands together behind my back and crawl to him. I begged for his cock(not sure if it was verbal). On my knees, dripping, all feeling no thinking. His cock in my mouth, heaven. I licked and sucked and pleased him as best as I could. Then he came, I swallowed.
Afterward I told him most truthfully that was the first time a man came in my mouth.
When he took the blindfold off I was greeted by the happiest warmest face. I said “sir, it’s finally you, you’re really here”. I was over the moon happy.
I served him a snack of all of his favorite food. We talked and laughed with me on his lap, discussing how my service of his cock was unplanned (not totally, but the length and result of it) and both agreed we thought he would cum with me bent over the slave station.
We had a nice talk. Both so happy the waiting was over. He complimented both me, the household and food selections.
I believe my most favorite nipple clamps were applied at some point. I can cum just thinking about his tug on them. We at some point ended up in the bedroom. He claimed my slave hole and it was magical. He at no point did he make me nervous.
I know my slave state matched the intensity of my orgasms.
We fell asleep in each other’s arms, perfectly fitting together, sir and his slave.