Chasing Me Chasing You

An uncollared submissive struggling through depression, motherhood, and the constant craving of her next orgasm.


Have you ever felt that connection? When you have been fucking for awhile, you’re both sweaty and probably smell gross. You know as soon as you both orgasm you are going to take a solid nap. And there is a moment. You both feel it. Maybe your eyes connect. Maybe you touch foreheads (if you can in whatever position you are in). But you have this sense of calm connection that reaches you. This is what it looks like when the camera catches it.

A connection moment between Rye and Jack


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The One Yank That Isn’t Sexy

When Sir and I started dating I had long hair. I started growing my hair out and donating it to Locks for Love every few years. I had donated before I started college, so when I wandered onto campus in the fall of 2003 it was only about 2 inches long. When we started dating four years later my hair had grown significantly. I hadn’t cut it (aside from an occasional trim) during my college career, so it was well down my back by the fall of my senior year.

Sir always liked the androgyny of short hair. He says that that is what attracted me to him all those years ago. But with BDSM we both enjoyed the benefits of keeping it long. When he decided to stop our 24/7 dynamic last fall and walk back our D/s I took the opportunity for change. Off came 13″ for charity. Looking back, I think I was trying to remind him that he used to think I was sexy. And possibly also as a defiant act against the traditional submissive with long hair in a braid. But I forgot how much work short hair is. I got it trimmed a few times, but was soon itching for hair to play with. Right now my hair is at that awkward length where it’s too short to pull back, but too long for comfort. Meaning it hangs in my face all the time.

So I have started regrowing it. My work wants tattoos covered, so I need to get/keep it long enough to cover the calla lilies on my neck. Plus, as we continue to try and add more D/s elements back to our daily routine, having the long hair back would nice.

I love to play with my hair. I run my fingers through it and twirl it (yeah, like a four year old) when I try to think. And I find myself doing it at stop lights when I drive. I also love when others play with it. Brush it, stroke it, style it, I don’t care. Just touching it gives me all sorts of gooey loved feelings.

Oddly enough though, I wouldn’t call it a kink. When it’s stroked, I feel like a pet, so it may work with that definition. But I hate to have my hair pulled. I’m not sure why. I don’t like idea of it as a sexual activity. It does seem sexy to me though. Long flowing locks wrapped around his fist sounds so arousing. However, actually having the hair yanked, even during sex, does not provide the positive results the fantasy promises. Even in a punishment context, I just get defensive and bitchy. That particular pain reminds me too much of my little brother being a pest rather than a hot sexual experience.

In any case, I’m growing my hair out. Right now I would say it’s about 50/50 between doing it for me and doing it for D/s. Both are viable reasons, in my opinion. And next time I donate it I’m not sure I’ll cut it quite so short. Then I could skip this ‘not quite long enough’ phase. And whether he pulls on it or not, being able to braid it always helps me keep from playing with it when we scene.

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Getting myself into trouble

Sir doesn’t really care when it comes to pubic hair. There have been rules in the past with regard to regular shaving, but it’s never really been enforced. As long as I don’t let it get too crazy or dirty, he could care less. I guess really, as long as his access isn’t obstructed. So I tend to drift from one extreme to the other. The last few weeks when the boys were home my showers during the day were a rushed five minutes while the toddler was asleep or after Sir got home from work. Wasting time with a careful shave wasn’t in the cards. And, with the ever-present chance that one of my kids could walk in (to check on me, as toddlers tend to do), having one of my legs in the air trying to get a a better angle on my nether bits just seemed like therapy I didn’t want to pay for. Which led to this:

Rye's cunt with pubic hair.

Not that I have a problem with pubic hair. Mine is just generally uneven. The top of my mound goes a little wild and everything else is just a patchy mess. Sir has also done some research into it, but I also apparently have a lot more hair on the inside of my labia than most women. We have talked about getting it lazered off at some point, but we’ll see about funds. In my case, I just don’t find it very attractive. Straggly and rough just aren’t adjectives I like when describing anything on my body.

I also have an issue with pubic hair and vibrators. I don’t know if it’s just me, but it tends to become almost painful. I don’t know if it’s just the Doxy specifically or how I use it, but I find it pulls and pinches. It just tends to make relaxing a little tougher, but who doesn’t love a challenge?

However for my  first day at my new job yesterday I want to feel as sexy and confident as possible, so the razor made a lengthy appearance.

Rye's clean shaven cunt.

And, after I received approval for my handy work I also received permission for a hairless Doxy ride. I must have done a pretty good job, as this morning my pubic bone was sore. I think I’m pushing down a tad too hard (I say that like I care, but it feels amazing, and I’ll keep doing it). However, as per my ‘share any physical ailments/pains with Sir’ rule, I let him know that I was sore. Usually I get a sly grin and twinkle in his eye that says that he’ll be taking advantage of that information later by pushing on it with his body, hand, implement, etc. But today, he just looked at me completely straight faced and said, “Well, then I guess you need a break from the Doxy. No Doxy for thirty days. You should put a countdown on your blog. This is not a request.”

Sometimes I really hate telling him things. I did all that work to shave and look pretty and now my poor clit will be Doxy-less for thirty days. I have a feeling that my begging for oral skills will certainly improve though.

Maybe I will grow out my pubic hair in protest. There is no way that will come back to bite me in the ass.

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The Beard Problem

Sir sporting a goatee at our wedding.
Sir at our Wedding in 2008.

I’ve always been a big fan of facial hair. I love how soft it is, and I guess it just looks really manly to me. I’m not into the full mountain man look, but a trim beard is hot. I think it makes men look dignified and in many cases, older. Sir has always had one in one form or another. The goatee was popular for a few years (see above), but the full beard has been around since we moved back to Ohio. There was a short period where he had to shave it off for work. And honestly, he looks a little odd with out it (he agrees with me, so I won’t get into trouble). Maybe it just makes his baby face stand out.

Sir with his full beard and all black.
Sir’s more contemporary look with a full beard.

What does get me into trouble is where oral sex and his beard meet. He’s all about kissing. He really likes to make out; full tongues and everything. Which normally, I’m ok with. Ok, a hell of a lot more than ok with. But after he gives me oral his beard is gross. I wish there was a better way to say it. But it’s usually dripping with a mixture of saliva and me juices. And I know they are both fluids that I enjoy, but when they are cold and dripping from his face they loose their sexiness. Sir gets so angry. He really loves giving me oral and having so much control over my orgasms, but having to stop and wipe off his beard before continuing our play drives him up the wall.

It’s something I really need to work on. He’s respectful of it as sort of a soft limit right now, but I know that won’t last long. I’m slowly getting used my own taste, so he’ll soon stop caring if it bothers me. If it’s his beard and getting used to cold lady juices or no beard and dry faced make-outs, I’m going with the beard.


New Me

A new year, a new start. And a new me.

20160106_182114They cut almost 13″ off. It feels really weird to touch hair that isn’t attached to you anymore. But my neck feels so light. And my shampoo bottle will last three times as long. I’ve donated three times now and I’m sure I will attempt to grow it out again eventually. And hey, it means a free hair cut.20160106_171938

The husband got a few good hair pulls before I cut it. Part of our fun the other night included some glorious fucking from behind and him using my pony tail for leverage. He likes it short too though. Which is good, as it will take quite awhile before a pony tail will be possible again.

The kids were pretty surprised when I picked them up from daycare as well. The toddler actually said it looked nice. The baby has never seen me with short hair. I’ve been growing it out since my first son was young. He is also a fan of hair pulling, so now he’ll just have my collar to hold on to.

It’s been short like this before though, my family tells me 20160106_171951that I have a well-shaped head for shorter hair. I’ll just have to trust them, as it will be short like this for awhile. But I love the maintenance of it. I just shower and shake it off with the towel and it’s done. I don’t have to spend an hour drying it before I go out in the cold. And I don’t have to haul around fifteen hair ties and a clip wherever I go to keep it out of my face. A quick brush and I am good to go. And considering how long I’m left alone to get ready in the morning, the quicker, the better.

The only real bummer is that with it short like this it is really hard to hide the greys. They are really obvious now, especially at the front. Depending on where I part it I have a pretty big streak down the side. The hairdresser told me that they pick out the grey hairs before they make the wigs for the kids (feel bad for whoever has that job). And I cannot hide my neck tattoo anymore. I don’t really care, but I’m sure it will be the first thing my mother says when she see’s it. But I can still pull off a professional look, even with my tattoo. And if a company won’t hire me because I have a visible tattoo, then maybe I don’t want to work for them anyway.

So yeah, new me and a new look. Can’t pull off the braid anymore, so I probably won’t be getting calls for BDSM porn. But I can still kneel and suck cock, so the husband won’t complain.


So my hair comfortably covers my breasts and my back tattoo. It’s great when it’s straight and dry. I tend to play with it more than I should. It is calming to me and it helps me keep my hands busy. I didn’t realize it until I really got into crafting, but I tend to have to have my hands busy. And, of course, it’s fun for pulling during sex. I can braid it up and he can wrap it around his hand.

But it’s also a pain in the ass. The baby loves to pull it. After a shower it stays wet forever and gets quite cold. And it’s always in the way. I have to put up in or it sits in my face. It keeps my neck hot when it’s warm out and refused to dry when it’s cold. The other small hiccup is that I have a neck tattoo. I don’t really care if people see it, but I am looking to apply to professional jobs in the next year. My longer hair could cover it in an interview situation. I’m not sure that’s enough of a reason though. And anyway it’s calla lilies, not ‘fuck off’.

So, do I chop it off? I’ve been considering going short again. In high school and in college I cut it to donate and kept it about two inches long until I got the urge to grow it out again. Apparently I can pull off a short look. The pixie cut was too much work. I don’t tend to use product or anything in my hair. Mostly because I’m lazy. I want to shake it and go out the door. I guess that’s why I tend to stick to longer hair. A hair tye or a clip and I’m good to go. But there is a draw to having it cut. Mostly the shake it go plan.

And short hair can be sexy. So….long or short?

Communication through hair

I think I am afraid of writing or saying everything I want out loud because I am worried that I can’t have it. I’m worried that when I tell him how I want to be used and abused and pampered at the same time he’ll just shake his head at me. He won’t laugh, but I will see the crestfallen look on his face as he realizes how unrealistic I am. That will hurt more than an outright ‘no’. That look of him wanting to give me what I want, but knowing that it’s not going to happen.

We have started a new method of communication. When I am interested in playing I braid my hair. It’s a little hokey, but it’s a very visual cue for him when he gets home from work. If I’m tired or the boys are driving me crazy I just don’t put it up. He can still tell me to braid it, he still has the final say. It’s just nice to be able let him know that I really do want to play without him having to try and read sexual signals while I’m dealing with the kids. When he gets home I’m usually struggling to get dinner together and dealing with at least one screaming child, so it’s hard to tell if I’m feeling slavish or not.

But this isn’t going to be enough. I’m going to have to work out exactly what it is. That thing that makes me smile. That perfect contentment that I feel when grabs me. It’s a feeling of being enough. I would love to have that all the time, just not sure how to get it.

I think I want the whole package. Back to my Disney childhood, I guess. I want to be swept off my feet and called a slut. I want to be pampered and spanked. I want gifts and treats that I can enjoy while I lay on my pallet on the floor. I want to be his beloved Rye, that he adores and occasionally beats for his pleasure.

I know, I know. I’m even shaking my head at myself.

New Toy

So tomorrow I turn 30. I’ve been working on a post for a while now, but it just sounds like I’m whining. Fingers crossed that it comes together, for your sake as much as mine.

But last night I was just so happy that Sir was feeling better, I decided that a nice clean shave was in order. He agreed and monitored my work. I had a few strays (TMI?), but he helped me get them taken care off in his lovely sadist way. I think we made his cunt look pretty good.



He thought it was acceptable too. So much so, in fact, that it inspired him to give me one of my birthday presents early. I’m a sucker for a gift, so I was happy to let him spoil me. And I was certainly spoiled:



Isn’t it pretty? Sir bought it at Stockroom. This is my first hitachi-like vibrator.

I’ve never really had much luck with vibrators. Generally, a bullet vibe or even the vibrating dildos that I’ve tried just don’t get me there. I think for years I physically fought enjoying it. My brain demanded a physical connection with another person. Probably why masturbation was always a challenge too.

However, as I venture into my thirties tomorrow I am ‘seeing the light’ in many ways. Have a relaxing full orgasm through masturbation is still very difficult, but maybe my new toy can help. It certainly has a lot of power. Sir decided to test it out on his new clean shaven pussy. It is probably the most powerful sensation I’ve had on my clit at one time. I can completely understand how these things can be used for pain or pleasure. I’m not sure exactly which Sir was going for. I came, really hard, but I was also squirming all over the bed. Even after I came he kept it pressed to my clit and I could feel my entire pussy throbbing.

I love my new toy. I’m a little bummed that I’ve spent the first thirteenish years of my sexual activity without one. Looks like I have some time to make up for.


This weekend was about being an adult. We went out to dinner on Friday with some friends from college. Sir is really in his element around people. He has a big personality and it is a treat to watch him engage is a social setting. You should see him work a room at parties. It’s not like I am a hermit, but these last few months I have been interacting mostly with the kids. Just getting to talk about something other than poop and Cheerios is a thrill for me. So dinner and drinks was a good time. I even got pretty tipsy.

It was also the first time we have been out together since really embarking on this as a 24/7 relationship. I received permission for two drinks before we left the house. And Sir gave me a few options to choose from off the menu for dinner. It was just a really relaxing evening of conversation and good food. The master/slave elements didn’t take over our good time, but, at least for me, they really added to the comfort and enjoyment of the evening. And, as parents of young children, we slept amazingly without being awoken once. A good night sleep is underrated, one we indulged in, with pleasure.

Saturday involved a lot of adult responsibility stuff. Dealing with meetings and other appointments without the kids makes a huge difference. We didn’t want it to take up too much of our alone time, but somethings just need to get done. Some obligations just don’t care about how much we want to fuck. But we finished that up in the early afternoon with one statement.


In less than five minutes we had left the stress of the day. I had my hair in pigtails, the ball gag in, and I was folding laundry. Very carefully, of course, so as not to drool on Sir’s clean clothes. He really likes the drool. I think most of his enjoyment is how humiliating it is for me to drool on myself. But, who am I to question? And I think he was a bit surprised at how much the pigtails turned him on. He’s not really into age play, and I think he always associated the two. But having two handles may have converted him.

So after laundry and dishes he was pretty hard at the state of me. After being decorated with the nipple vices and the leash, he led me around the downstairs for awhile. He claimed it was to inspect my cleaning duties, but I am pretty sure it was to watch the leash pull on my nipples and my ass wiggle. Which worked, in my opinion, because I was soon ‘head down, ass up’ and being fucked in the living room. The crop made an appearance to make my ass even more appealing for his cock (his dick apparently doesn’t think that pale is the new deep red).

Keeping my head down, however, proved a little more perilous than I realized. My forcing my head into the carpet, as he got closer and closer to orgasm, his thrusts forced my head against the floor. Bouncing and rubbing the carpet started to make me quite dizzy. The ramming didn’t hurt, but when he rolled me over all the blood rushed out of my head. Several slaps and moans later I was curled up with a blanket and Sir cuddling me. Then he pushed my forehead and I was waiting for, “are you in there McFly?”. I was worried I did something wrong until he started laughing. The rubbing and smacking into the floor had left a large rug burn spot in the center of my forehead.

Luckily, my ‘unicorn horn’ as he lovingly called it (he said it was lovingly, I think he was just trying not to laugh whenever he looked at my face) didn’t stay too red and is mostly gone this morning. Right now it looks like I put a small blot of blush on my forehead and didn’t even it out. But, hey, the things we do for love and kinky sex.

Honestly, the only bummer is that this silly spot is the only mark that survived the weekend. I guess I will have to beg him for more. Which, now that I think about it, may have been his plan. He’s sneaky like that.


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Sir’s Handle

My hair has stopped growing. That can’t mean anything good, can it?

I am near positive that since last summer the length of my hair has not changed. My son was born in August, and all fall I was constantly losing hair. It was falling out in clumps until sometime before Christmas. But, even though it has thickened up again, it’s still not growing in length.

I understand that that may not seem kinky, and on the surface it’s not. My husband, back before he was exclusively Sir, was all about androgyny. I was quite the tomboy in college; so we fit together quite well. I had very short hair (not shaved, but rarely more than an inch or two) and never wore skirts or frilly clothes. He appreciated my style, though I just called it comfortable.

However, over the past few years I have begun to enjoy wearing dressier outfits. I actually own several dresses and skirts, even a few pair of high heels (several if you count my kink-only ones). And I think he accepted my softer side with enthusiasm. As we began to delve into D/s roles, I think he began to see the benefits of skirts and long hair. So, my skirt collection grew as well as his eagerness for me to wear them for easier access.

It’s odd for me to say it; but him grabbing my hair in a scene is about the sexiest thing. He can direct my head, get my attention, even praise me simply by tugging or pulling or petting at the right moment. I wouldn’t have thought that it could play such a role in our intimacy. And when he is behind me, his use of it to hold me in place is as erotic as the dirty talk he uses while he does it.

The very idea of cutting it seems wrong now. I swear BDSM has touched every part of my life. I think I trimmed it after the baby to try and get it growing again, but no such luck. There is more than enough to wrap his hands around, but I would really love it to cascade a little further down my back. It’s so thick that a braid is near impossible unless it’s wet. And Sir has strict rules about me drying it after a shower.

Hopefully it will start to grow again soon. In the summer, if I get outside enough it gets a pretty red tint to it. It’s one of my favorite features, especially now that it has a kinky purpose. Besides if it’s not long enough in that crucial moment, who knows that Sir will grabbing for next.

Rye's hair