Chasing Me Chasing You

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

Orgasm Training

No, no, I don’t have to be trained to have an orgasm. Trust me, I’m good there. I’m talking about the other way. Training myself not to.

Things with the husband and I are good. But ‘fixing’ his libedo just isn’t a priority for him right now. There is just too much going on. He clarifies that his drop in sex drive is a symptom of a larger problem. And fixing one symptom doesn’t really help. I get that, it’s hard, but I get it.

So I need to try and keep myself together as he works through his hurdles. I had been masturbating in the afternoon to help keep me from putting too much pressure on him in the evening. It has helped. It is a nice reward after my workout. But I don’t really think it’s sustainable.

I don’t want to lower my sex drive; I’m really happy with where my slut level is right now. But, if he is going on a sex hiatus, then I need to adapt. And being able to go more than 24 hours without an orgasm is going to be necessary. I have found that orgasms have a large affect on my mood for a long period afterward, and I need to find a way to live without that. At least for a while.

So I didn’t have an orgasm yesterday. And so far I feel ok. I’m going to keep myself busy today. Grocery run and workouts will help. We are visiting his mother over the weekend (our first break from work at the new house), so that will be nice. And the Doxy will have to stay here, so I will be less tempted to play. It will be a challenge for the first few days, but I think in the long run it will help me get through this rough patch.

However, I am sure my clit will take your well wishes.

Hitting the Rim

I have tried things since entering the world of BDSM that I didn’t even know existed two years ago. Looking back, my vanilla life was so innocent as it pertains to my sexual knowledge. Who knew the massive education that D/s would provide?

One of the largest areas of new territory (no pun intended) has been toys and activities pertaining to asses. I use the plural in this sense, because this also includes Sir’s ass. One of the first BDSM things we tried was during our switch phase where I would top him. I had a harness and would peg him. He loved it. It was quite the experience for me too. You know, having a penis and all. But that was how I really entered the world of using one’s ass in a sexual way.

As our roles changed and firmly cemented me into the submissive role, our pegging play fell by the wayside. Then it was my turn. This is the first plug that Sir bought for me. To prepare for it and subsequently anal sex, I had to start putting fingers in my ass while in the shower. Something I never in my life thought I would do. But this process has been all about pushing myself. So I eventually upgraded to my pretty glass plug; which recently passed away, and has already been replaced. And after the first awkward experience, we now have anal sex often. My comfort level has grown immensely in the last year.

Recently, Sir has decided to try something new. Over the last month we have been incorporating me giving him rim jobs into our play. Talk about things I never thought I would do.  But it was a lot easier than I thought. And his reaction is always a good motivator. Hearing him moan and appreciate my service is wonderful. It’s not my favorite thing in the world to do. I’d be lying if I tried to go that far. But as far as things that make him happy, it’s a lot easier than taking a beating from the angry red bastard. But it has been an interesting addition. We have been incorporating it slowly, as both of us are getting comfortable with our limits. Just like playing with new sexual positions, we are working through what our bodies with allow us to do. Nothing makes me feel older than trying to get into a position for some sexual play (sex, oral, anal, etc.) and finding that I cannot manage it. But it’s all about experimenting.

There are so many nerves in the ass (just in case you didn’t know). Even just the simple pressure of my tongue can turn him on. I like to think that my tongue has special powers, but nothing proved this like a rim job. I honestly think he enjoys it almost as much as a blow job. Admittedly, I like giving blow jobs more, but I have thing for cock.

As difficult as this process has been as a whole, adding new things has been easy. It’s these little steps forward that keep me realizing that I can do this. I mean, if I can make him moan by licking his ass then I must be doing something right.

Kink of the Week

Social Masochist

I hate pain. But in that moment, when I see that gleam in his eye, it’s ok. When I know he wants just a little bit more. I can take it. I can take one more hit, for him. It’s hard, and I usually cry. But he is there, urging me on, and even though I don’t get turned on by it, I do get turned on watching his arousal. The pleasure is all over his face and nothing makes me want to take another hit more.

Last weekend he strung me up in the basement and beat my breasts. It was the first time he had really gone after them, but he didn’t hold back. I don’t think I was prepared for how emotionally taxing it was. When he gets into full Dom mode he gets so serious and quiet. And after several minutes and some pretty red marks I was close to safewording. He knew and asked me if I could take one more hit, for him. As much as I hurt and I was tired, I wanted to take another. It felt so good to make him happy.

And I thought I was making real progress with the pain. His pleasure was really helping to get me through those difficult impact scenes. So this week Sir assigned me with several tasks to complete while the kids were out. Lots of fun naked chores and mindfulness challenges. One of them was some time in our closet with the door closed. I had to string myself up by the nipple clamps and repeat a mantra for twenty minutes.

It was hard. Too hard. I was crying after only a few minutes. When he’s there I can handle the clamps without a problem, but by myself I was blubbering. I was shocked at how little pain I could take when I was alone. I didn’t want the pain, it hurt. There was no distraction from his pleasure or his voice telling me I was doing a good job. I couldn’t have lasted another minute if he had asked.

I just felt so lonely. It was dark and cramped. I was hot and even trying to focus on the words I had to say didn’t help. He wasn’t there to see my submission, and it’s not like he could feel it at his office across town. I just felt like some crazy person who had put herself in a closet and was talking to herself while torturing her breasts. It didn’t feel good. I didn’t feel submissive. And that bothered me. The point of the exercise was to focus on him, to feel him there pushing me to take the pain. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t get past all the physical obstacles around me.

I obviously have a lot way to go before I can take pain when he isn’t there to push me. More proof that I am not the masochist that I think he wishes for. That bothers me too; the thought that I’m not what he wants. But he’s been patient at adding things slowly. And I’m trying to make small steps toward making the pain work for me, so I’m not just suffering through it.

Maybe more sessions together will help, as much as I fear them. Next he’ll be bringing an audience to keep me from feeling alone.


I heard the leash snap onto my collar over all the music in the entryway as we entered the party. I stared at the new physical connection between Master and I. It was so comforting in the crowded space to know that he wanted to keep me close. It was easy to follow him through the dancing and playing groups with my eyes down. He stopped a few times to say hi to friends. A few subs squeezed my hand to say hello. I recognized them and squeezed back. Hopefully Master will let me catch up with them later this evening. But if he wants me close all night I will happily stare at my leash.

Master stopped and gave a slight tug. I dropped to the floor. I felt him sit on the ottoman behind me and strike up a conversation with a Domme that had just moved to our area. He ran his hands through my hair as he talked to her about good butchers and playgrounds where we like to take the kids. His fingers and voice were so calming that I felt myself relax into the floor; another few minutes and I would fall asleep. He leaned down and bit my shoulder. He always knows.

He stood as the Domme sent her sub to fetch another drink. I waited for the instructional tug to tell me to stand up, but it never came. So when he started back toward another Dom calling his name, I crawled as fast as I could to keep up. The leash pulled as I slowed to avoid legs and bodies in front of me, but Master didn’t change pace or course. I was so focused on keeping up with him I almost ran into his legs when he did eventually stop. My cues are all physical, so I was trying not to listen to his conversation with a Dom whose voice I didn’t recognize. He was asking Master questions about training. He wanted Master to watch him and his sub and give critique. I was soon crawling frantically again as they walked through the party to a back room. When we stopped he bent down in front of me.

“I am going into this room. You will wait out here until I return. I am going to attach your leash to the door and you are not to move. You will not speak to anyone. If you have a medical emergency you may knock on the door for assistance. Do you understand pet?”

“Yes Master”

“Good girl.” He handed me a bottle of water and stood up. I felt a pat on my head and watched as he attached the leash to the door knob. As he disappeared into the room I settled back on my heels to find a comfortable position. Not knowing how long I would be there, I wanted to make sure my legs didn’t tighten up so I could crawl or walk at a moments notice. But I wanted to use this quiet time that Master had given me to remember his ownership.

I chose to watch the leash swing from my neck to the door. Tied to him always, even when he’s not there. Ready and waiting for his eventual return.

Kink of the Week

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.


I chose to write this blog as a way for me to work through the process of becoming the submissive (now slave) that Sir wants me to be. I have found throughout my life that I can write my feelings much easier than I can express them verbally most of the time. Whenever I am struggling with an emotion that I cannot quite pin down I always find writing helps, even if it starts as babbling.

Sir has been supportive of this outlet for me, but I also need to talk to him. I know it really bugs him when he learns that I am struggling with something when he reads it here rather than me talking to him first. I’m sure that’s where the ‘you can’t know anything I don’t know’ rule came from. And I appreciate that he wants to know how I am doing.

But as a submissive I wrestle with this. How do you evaluate your Dom’s performance and share your feelings while still being a respectful slave? In our case, he is learning too. It won’t always be perfect, we both know that. But I get punished when I mess up to help me grow and learn. Needless to say, I cannot punish him. But I do need him to understand how certain things that he does have an emotional effect. He doesn’t want to break me just yet (at least I hope not).

We are both just trying to find the best way to keep everything honest and open while still being respectful. I don’t want to seem like I’m whining because I’m not getting everything that I want. But how much of not getting what I want is just part of being a sub and when does it become a problem? Unsatisfied does not necessarily mean unhappy, but where is the line? When do I need to stand up and say ‘okay, that’s too much’? I don’t mean safewording in a scene. I mean after the aftercare (or lack thereof), when I finally reflect on what I am feeling and attempt to put it into words. When I feel ignored or dehumanized or unloved. And I know what you’re thinking, that all those things are just part of D/s sometimes. And that is my problem. When does it cross the line from ‘suck it up, buttercup’ to being a consent/abuse issue? I know that Sir would never want to push that line on purpose, he loves me and wants this to be fulfilling and satisfying for both of us. So I hate the idea of getting worked up about something if I should just be accepting the experience as it is.

I know that we will eventually lose the need for this. Once we get everything settled in our dynamic and work through all these bumps, these types of conversations will fade. But right now they are hard for me to work though. I get very emotional when I try to tell him what I want. I just feel immediately guilty and whiny when I critique a scene or emotion from the night before. But I know that if some things continue I would begin to get emotionally beaten down. The results of which neither of us want.

Killing Expectations

Sir is a big Frank Herbert fan, so I managed to struggle through the first Dune book a few years ago. I could see really getting into it, if science fiction is your thing. Very much along the line of the grand scale of Game of Thrones. The intrigue, the entrenched family lines, the acceptance of murder as part of daily life. Definitely a world you can get lost in. And the concept of “fear is the mind-killer” stayed with me. The idea that your fears can control your life and your progress has been something that I have personally battled. I am a worrier; always have been. So I can get wrapped up in fears, some of them completely illogical, and miss out on some great things. Facing fears and working through them help us to grow as people. But you can say that as much as you like, it doesn’t necessarily make it easier.

However, through my growing experience as a submissive I have found a larger mountain to climb than my fear of spiders. For me, expectations are the mind-killer.

I like to think that I am not the only sub/slave/little that struggles with this. Everyone has expectations of relationships and what will make them happy and fulfilled. When those expectations start to be a hinderance on that happiness, that’s when problems arise. Although I do hope that it is a temporary issue. After years I’m sure Sir will succeed in stamping it all out.

I guess I just still have a problem with my own desires. I think I am selfishly putting my own needs/wants before Sir’s (See my previous post on Selfish Sex). It’s not how I want to be. I want to put him first in everything. But that’s not something that comes naturally to me. Parts of it are easy. I can serve him dinner and make his lunch. But I expect his dominance throughout the day and especially at night. The chance to let go has become so centered around him. If I don’t get that chance to please him, then I don’t feel like I deserve to be pleased. I think it leaves me feeling off. Not quite depressed, but just down in a sense of not feeling like I’m living up to his expectations or my own as his property.

I am still working through my issues with my sex drive too. Though lately I have felt an odd drop in my libedo that I am not happy about. I have found that sexual frustration and denial can have serious health and mood ramifications for me. Obviously something that I need to deal with as Sir is constantly threatening a chastity belt. But I have attached an expectation to sex. Like if I complete all my tasks during the day and don’t fuck up, then I should get sex. If he is tired or the kids won’t go to sleep I find myself getting inexcusably cranky. My own expectations catch me up.

Then there are times when we are both tired and sex is just off the table. The next day it’s hard to feel his dominance while he’s at work. I lose a connection with him; and I hate that. It’s not that our connection is only established through sex, but it is a great reset button for us.

I’m sure time will tell how Sir will help me to correct this. It’s not a matter of if, but of how much my mind will fight him in his training. Although, I guess that in itself is an expectation.

Well, crap.


My Virtue

Am I allowed to be offended by Sir showing me a chastity belt shop website with the conversation non-starter, ‘we’ll talk’?

I mean, I know that I am allowed to feel offended. Dom or not, I am still allowed to feel things. But, in this case, are my feelings justified?

Why do I need a chastity belt? If it were for some kink, some real discussion about orgasm denial, that would be one thing. But it’s not. It is his way of dealing with the fact that my sex drive is higher/stronger/more than his. I know he hates when I say this, but how is that fair? I am being punished for wanting/enjoying sex often.

He made a comment on Twitter about how he feels that I am not master-focused enough. Putting a piece of metal between my legs that I have to pee through will not really help that. And I am trying. Not to bore you with general life issues, but I’m working really hard to keep all our balls in the air (not his though, he doesn’t like that). I use this blog to help me deal with any sexual frustration, I don’t take it out on him.

But the other night we finally got the kids to bed and we got a chance to play. It was late and after giving him a blow-job (a pretty good one, if I do say so myself) he started to argue with himself over whether or not I was going to get to cum. And, with an audible sigh (very audible), he made some comment about how if he didn’t let me for the second day in a row then I would be grumpy and pissy at him all day. The oral was good, amazing, in fact. But, I will admit that the orgasm isn’t quite as good when you feel like you forced your partner into it. If you aren’t feeling sexy, that’s fine. Pity orgasms aren’t satisfying.

I just really feel like I am being punished for my sexual needs. Right now sex is one of the few ways that I have to deal with stress. I don’t have time for a lot of the stress-relievers that I used to do. Cleaning, the kids, and my job have overtaken all attempts at productive freetime. Even if I get a chance to sit and read or sew something, all I can think about is the mountain of laundry waiting for me. Or whether or not he needs something. How much more master-focused does he want. I already have enough asses in the house to wipe.

Obviously, I am being obtuse. And I would never say anything that rude to his face. I am sure he has a better reason to broach this conversation. But, now that the damn has been opened, how much say do I have? On nights when he doesn’t want to use me, he shuts me out. Like if he ignores me, that’s my cue. If we are going to play, he waits until I crawl into bed and starts trying to rip my nipple off. If not, then he plays on some device (phone, Ipad, etc.) until I sigh (also audible) and turn the light off to go to sleep. Then, in the morning, he assumes that I am mad because I didn’t cum the night before. And that may be part of it, but the bigger problem is that intimate time is how I connect with him. And he holds all the cards (as I guess is the reality of D/s). But now I am going to be ‘trained’ out of my sexual desires and then what? He still won’t talk to me unless he wants his dick sucked? That is not worth any form of metal underwear.

Popping the Cherry

So I lost my anal virginity last night. Is that a thing? I’m sure it’s not. And those of you that have been doing this for a good decade or so will just laugh at this milestone. But for me, this is a big deal. I’ve been training for a few weeks now. Sir has been pushing me quite hard. We were going to start earlier in December, so I could be ready by 2015, but life happened.

I was just excited that it didn’t hurt as much as I thought. It actually felt pretty good. I don’t know what that says about me. That I was silly enough to think that it would hurt, or smart enough to be happy that it didn’t.
So that was my Friday night. Several orgasms and my first anal intercourse. Hope you all had a nice night too. I’m looking forward to the rest of my weekend. We’re staying in as it is still negative temperatures outside and in the forecast. After a few job applications I am hoping to curl up with a book and some coffee. Baby cuddles and quickies sound like my perfect Saturday afternoon.

I have created a monster…

Rather than wait until Thursday, Sir has decided that my training will begin today. So I have to wear my pretty purple butt plug as long as I can this morning and then again this afternoon.

Doing dishes and dancing to Taylor Swift’s Shake it Off will never be the same. 🙂