Chasing Me Chasing You

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

Sir’s Toy

Sometimes being his toy has it’s benefits.

This is another shot from our scene last week. Sir has taken to designing fun new contraptions with our toys. This is our Doxy and a dildo attached to a wooden pole. He found this to be quite entertaining. I moaned a lot.

Rye tied up in the basement with Sir's toy contraption.

Check out how other lovely blogs took the prompt of toys by clicking below.

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KOTW: Nipple Play

My nipples and I have a very strained relationship. I think they are still a little bitter with me over the whole breastfeeding thing. I was pumping so often they bled with my second child, so I think they hold a grudge. Nothing that can’t be overcome by threatening to pierce them, then they fall in line quickly. Though, to be honest, these days I’m not sure that would work anymore.

I’m weird about nipple play and sex. I love nipple play before sex. Or even during oral. I practically have to have it when I masturbate if I want to get anywhere. But during sex it’s just distracting. Almost to the point of painful. While having vaginal or anal sex my nipples are pretty much no fly zones. I think they just get too sensitive and stimulation can degrade quickly into laughter or outright thrashing; neither of which is good when Sir is trying to cum. But, while receiving clit attention, it’s almost a requirement.

Romance novels have taught me that most women’s nipples are hard-lined directly to their clit. I swear if I read comment one more time I’m to start researching it in medical journals. But, as laughable as it is to read sometimes, it’s accurate. At least for me. I mean, I can cum from oral alone, but if he is pinching and pulling at my nipples I can orgasm twice as hard. Which, most of the time, is the goal. Nipple play in the rubbing, sucking, lightly pinching variety is my kind of heaven.

But every sadist knows how to take a heaven and turn it into a hell. (I say that with all the love in the world…bastards). All that soft caressing and pulling made devilish by clothespins, vices, and chopsticks. And don’t get me wrong, the feeling of the clothespins isn’t so bad. All your nerves wake up and even breathing can shift them. It’s when everything comes off. After the orgasm, or even sometimes during, when you are already a ball of nerves. You’ve given all your energy to the moment, and when it passes you’ve forgotten about the ‘tear down’ process. Feeling returns when toy x, y, or z is removed and then it’s that lightening bolt of pain. Like when your leg wakes up after falling asleep and you get the pins and needles shooting up and down your muscles. Except in this case is all centered in one spot and it’s all at once. I think the first time we played with clothespins Sir had them on me for around fifteen minutes. When he took them off I felt like I had the wind knocked out of me. I may have cried. I know what you’re thinking, and, looking back, I’m calling myself a pussy too. But how do you describe that feeling to someone who has never experienced it. It’s nothing something you can really prepare for. I guess that is true for all pain, not just BDSM pain.

Nipple play was the first overwhelming sensation I remember having connected to D/s. I think when we were first talking about what we both could get from the lifestyle I remember Sir coming home with a large pack of clothespins from the hardware store. Now we have all sorts of  things for him to torture my nipples with. And over time they have gotten more accustomed to the rougher play. As much as I was put off by the idea of piercing my nipples a year ago, it’s something I’m looking forward to now. I’m actually only put off of the idea by the fact that you have to be nice to them for a year (or so I’ve read). That and my body doesn’t generally do well with piercings (why I’ve joined the tattoo club). But even then I’m still looking for someone good in our area. Maybe then my abused nipples will forget that whole breastfeeding trauma and focus on the metal being shoved through it instead.

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.

It’s not cheating

When Sir set my June task to wear my butt plug for 50 hours I was concerned. He didn’t give me the task until the second week of June, so I was worried I wouldn’t have enough time to complete it. And I hadn’t worn the plug for consecutive days for quite some time. I wasn’t sure how multiple hours, several days in a row would work. But that was my challenge. And I think I rose to it. I’m now comfortable wearing the glass plug for extended hours. I’ve left the house with it in to do grocery shopping (one of my 101 Things). It is all together a more pleasant experience to put in and wear. I was doing so well that I finished my 50 hours early and Sir allowed me to start my July hours a few days before the month actually started.

This was a huge relief for me. I was worried about 100 hours in one month. Even wearing it every day for three hours per day wouldn’t be enough. And if I forgot a day or was excused from wearing it because I felt sick would really put me behind. So I started the month with eight hours already done. But yesterday I wasn’t really feeling well. I tried to put it in and just felt sick (sorry if that’s TMI). I didn’t even last fifteen minutes. And then I started (in my usual anxious fashion) to start worrying about how I would make up that time.

Since my little accident with the glass plug Sir ordered me a new one and it arrived yesterday. I like my purple silicone one, but it just doesn’t feel as comfortable for longer amounts of time. So I had been doing my three hours and taking it out. But with the option of the glass plug back on the table, I considered something. What if I slept with it in? I hadn’t really thought about it before. But after I started weighing the options, I’m not sure why it hadn’t been there from the beginning.

So last night was my trial. Sir wanted me to take it out if it kept me up or if I woke up in the night in pain. It would be the longest I ever had it in, so I wasn’t sure. But it wasn’t a problem at all. 9.9 hours and I felt fine in the morning. In fact, it was kind of nice. Having my glass plug again was great. The flange is a lot smaller and smoother than my silicone plug, so moving around at night and sleeping on my back wasn’t a problem. I woke up, took it out and went on my way.

No longer worried about my 100 hours. A few more nights like that and I will be sorted. And, one of my 101 Things goals to wear the plug for 85+ hours in one week is a lot more realistic as well.

My List of Lists

Sir will be the first to tell you, I am a list queen. A running weekly grocery list is standard. But I also have daily task lists, lists of questions for my counselor and doctor. My Christmas shopping list is created around mid-September with budgets and ideas. My day planner has my tasks for the day and week as well as all my appointments and things that Sir needs me to handle. It can get pretty gross.

I have always been like this. It’s how I organize my life. Lists help me to stay

Lists of everything from groceries to goals for the week.
Lists of everything from groceries to goals for the week.

motivated and focused. While I have a strong work ethic, I do find it easy to be distracted when I am in the wrong environment. I have found, working from home is actually a terrible location for me. If I had my own office space with a door I could close, it would be different. But my desk and work space are currently in the dining room, which is rife with distractions. It has been a learning curve; I am used to a desk in an office where everyone around me is working too. Here I have the dog curled up on the couch behind me. And that couch looks really comfortable.

But the lists always bring me back to Sir’s expectations. He has helped me work through some of  my high and low days with weekly tasks. So if I have a bad day, I can do more the next day to make up for it. It has helped me to stay motivated, but still be held accountable. And seeing the things being marked off really help me to keep going. It’s an interesting cycle that completing something, however small, makes me want to complete more.

From back in late March. Don't believe the blank weekend.
From back in late March. Don’t believe the blank weekend.

Some people keep lists to remember things. I think the only list that that is relevant for me for is the working grocery list. When I empty a container or we run out of something I will put it on the list so that I remember to get more. But I have a very good memory. My lists are for motivation and personal self-worth. I look back on these pages. All these check marks of completion and I feel like I am doing my best for Sir. I really look at a physical representation of accomplishment. A completed project, a clean bathroom, a finished craft. That is why I struggle with an endless pile of dishes and laundry. It never feels complete.

Lists aren’t necessarily sexy for me. I will have sexy tasks from time to time. But they are more of the service aspect of our TPE relationship. They help me stay on task and provide everything that Sir requires. They help me to be a better slave.

Today’s List:

1. Work for 4 hours

2. Dishes

3. Laundry

4. Vacuum Dining room

5. Clean Bathroom, including scrubbing the shower

6. Dinner – Chicken Stir-Fry

7. Make baby food (use up the ripe mango)

8. Call to set up tattoo appointment (for touch-ups)

Wish me luck!

See how lists help and inspire others or share your own lists on this week’s Wicked Wednesday.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked


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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Glad to be home

Getting back to a normal state after some sleep. Sir and I have had some ‘trouble’ keeping our hands off each other. I am one insatiable sub, let me tell you. Being away for two weeks was fine while I was busy and getting exercise to tire me out. But now that I am home I realize how horny I was. All day he hardly had to brush my arm and I was begging to cum. And such I am such a good little sub (cough cough) he has been letting me. He is back to work today and I still have cleaning to catch up on. Right now the baby is only one that is running a slight fever, which I am surprised by considering all the flights and airports. I think the IV of coffee I have inserted is what is protecting me. The Boy lets the dog lick inside his mouth, so his immune system must be set. So, unpacked and holding strong to the weekend.

My shackles are pretty nice. I will get a photo of them for you soon. But I wish they were smaller, as they are quite loose on my wrists. It doesn’t bother me most of the time, but when they come down on my hand with force they cut the skin a bit. I don’t think he will have me wear them all the time, fingers crossed, but we may be able to adapt them so they are more comfortable for long-term wear.
The riding crop was a real hit though, pun intended. Aside from being really turned on by the idea of being hit by a riding crop, I was surprised by the varying degrees of pain. Sir has a lot of control over the intensity and placement of his strikes. In any case, he had me count smacks while I sank back into my sub mindset. It was blissful. I am sure over the last two weeks I earned more of a beating, but I will not turn up my nose at his generousity.
Especially when it contains a continuous stream of orgasms.