Chasing Me Chasing You

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

Nipple Play Returns

I messed up at work. It’s not the end of the world, but as I work in the legal field, there are a lot of negative ramifications if things are done wrong. So I had a not so pleasant email when I got into work yesterday morning. Talk about a quick way to ruin your day. Luckily, it’s fixable. I was able to sort it out before I left the office. And coming home to a cider and a plate of pork nachos can make any day seem easy.

So after I have vented about the day, and had maybe two sips of my cider Sir had an announcement. “Your putting clamps on your nipples tonight and you’re going to swing them around for my amusement”. You know, just in case there was any question about plans for the evening.

He hasn’t really pushed the nipple play too much. He bought me new rings last month, but that’s about it. We both have wanted them to heal fully before messing around clamps or weights. I was fine with his order that I was getting my nipples pierced, but my breasts are one of the few things I genuinely like about my body. I have taken every precaution to ensure that they aren’t damaged.

When I was out in California Jack ‘tested’ them a little bit. Mind you, he was very polite and asked nicely beforehand. By tested I mean that he sucked on each of my nipples until I was close to cumming just from that stimulation. It felt fantastic. But when I got home Sir realized that he could be a bit more forward with them.

The other night we played a bit of a ‘switch’ game (I’m working on telling you all about it, cause it was awesome). While he was giving me oral I let him (told him) to play with my nipples a bit. There was some pulling, some rubbing, and a lot of moaning. So now I think he’s decided that the training wheels are off. This has led me to believe that his ‘let’s switch’ idea was really just a ruse to get information out of me while making me think it was my idea. Though, at this point, I’m not sure why I should be surprised.

The Desire to Shatter for You

Rye's breasts in a navy bra.

I want you to take me. Just wreck me until I beg you to stop (safeword stop, I’m sure I will be crying ‘stop’, but that doesn’t count). The new countertops in the kitchen need to be tested and christened. I want to be pressed against each one; all in different ways.

I just want fucked so hard. For hours. Having my breasts bound up in some lovely rope. Taking pictures of my naked body laying all around the new house. Sleep is optional; I just want to make you moan, grunt, and scream my name. I want to shatter through orgasm after orgasm. I want to be spoiled with lingerie and the chance to look sexy for you. And once I get dolled up for you I want to you come at me like I am your air.  To be everything you need.

I just want to feel like I’m needed for something more than when my kids need more juice or the contractor needs more money. I want to be all that you think about for awhile. No job, no family drama, no responsibilities aside from coming as often as possible. And maybe let me come as often as well.

I just want you to fuck me until I can’t even think anymore. I want to shatter until you are done using me and then curl up and go to sleep. Sinking into the mattress with my aftercare blanket and your arm around my waist. The comfort and calm of pleasing you with everything I have. And knowing, that should the urge awake you, I am there for your use again.

A weekend without clothes or cares beyond what our bodies demand. Breaks for food or sleep are the only things to separate our flesh. The only thing to keep you from giving you everything that you desire. From the air that you need to live.

So this happened…

So because I couldn’t get my nipples pierced this week, Sir decided he wanted to have fun in other ways. Mindfucks are one of those other ways.

Now I’m not going to call myself a genius or anything, but mindfucks with me are generally difficult. I have excellent hearing. And with everything going on, it’s tough to get much past me when I have to have my hands in everything around the house. So he really takes advantage of sensory deprivation in our scenes to mess with me. And the best is when he just lets me dig my own grave.

Which brings me to this:

Rye's pussy covered in clothespins and laced together with twine.
Yeah, my pussy is in there somewhere.

I wasn’t bound or blindfolded. He just put me in my knees and told me he was going to play with me. I heard the box of clothespins rattling. The first few clamps on my outer lips barely registered. I was trying to count them as he put them on. Then I heard the scissors. You really start to pay attention when your pussy is that exposed and you hear scissors. The slight pulling and shifting as he threaded the twine through the clothespins was jarring. All I could think about was that he was creating a zipper. A zipper on my pussy. I couldn’t think about anything else. I was trying to mentally prepare myself for the upcoming pain.

Then this happened:

Rye's pussy covered in clothespins with a Doxy tied to it.
You have trouble focusing too.

I wasn’t ready for the jolt of vibration on the pins. The pull of the twine as the doxy rested against them. My clit was just as confused as my brain was. It wanted to enjoy the feeling of the vibrator, but the pinch of the clothespins made the pleasure take a backseat. And, of course, all my brain could focus on was the upcoming zipper.

Then the vibrations stopped. The doxy pulled the strings as he removed it and it was set aside. This was it, this was went he would pull the string and the zipper would shoot pain through my pussy. But it didn’t. He removed each pin slowly. I could hear laughing at his successful mindfuck. I could barely focus on his subsequent movements. He put the doxy back on my clit as he took my ass. I moaned at the feeling of the pressure with each thrust, but my head was still reeling from zipper that wasn’t.

He’s still pretty proud of himself today. Every once and awhile I see his evil, delightful grin.

…Bastard.

Baby Steps

Everyone has limits. But I am a firm believer that limits to be tested and pushed.

One of my limits in past has been knives and blood. I like the idea in general. Part of it is the mess, honestly. But mostly I am just scared of being hurt. Knife play sounds fun, but I’m not up for scarification. Tattoos are enough body modification for me right now.

So I had twenty minutes before I had to pick up the boy to go to the dentist. I offered Sir a blow job, which he considered. But he had a better idea. He wanted something more ‘involved’. So instead he had me take off my shirt and bra and started hitting my breasts with his belt. Soon he had me rolling around on the bed trying to get away from him. The pants came down and the belt found new flesh to redden. The thuds created a dull ache with the occasional snap of pain as the belt end would wrap around my hip. I moaned and writhed around, because we both like it when I don’t come quietly.

Then, out of nowhere I felt this scratching. Sometimes he will drag his nails (which are usually kept quite trim) across my back. But this was one sharp scratch. It hurt and it kept moving across my lower back. He kept it up on and off as he fucked me. Finally I realized it was his belt buckle. He was scraping the pin of the buckle across my skin.

After fucking me good and sore he came all over my tits. I rubbed it in a bit before I had to clean up and continue my day of errands. He took a few pictures of my ass to show me what he was able to scratch on my skin. It was a great way to introduce me to the idea of knife play. The buckle didn’t break the skin, but it’s the same scratching sensation that I imagine a knife would feel like. And it’s a great way to let Sir ease into it without worrying about hurting me. And my ass got to be sore and pretty under my clothes while I ran my errands this afternoon. Maybe we’ll file one of his old belt buckles down to a point to make the marks last a little longer next time.

Rye's lower back and ass with the words, 'slave', 'cunt', and 'slut' scratched into it.

Cock

I’ve been really good lately. And trust me, that is saying a lot, because it has been hella hard. Horny and frustrated does not equate to being a lovely, supportive wife and mother. But I came home from my business and tattoo appointment (more on that later) in a really good mood, so we ran with it.

Crawling into bed last night he started stroking my leg. He soon was stroking lots of other things and I was dripping and moaning. Then he shocked me.

“I just want to be a cock. Use me, abuse me. I don’t care.”

It only took me a moment to get over the surprise of what he said. And, being the slut that I am, I didn’t waste any time climbing on top of my new cock present. There is just something about straddling him and having a good hard orgasm. After nearly a week it was beautiful thing. It is those types of orgasms that make it hard for me to masturbate as I know I can’t replicate it on my own (I will, however, be trying later today).

As much as I was taken aback by the ‘I just want to be a cock’ line, I was equally excited when he decided that he wanted to come too. After some fun teasing he fucked my face. You wouldn’t think that someone holding onto your head as they ram their dick into your mouth would be relaxing, but it was delightful. And even better, he sighed. Sighed in the best, most relaxed way you can imagine. He sank into the bed as I covered him up and turned out the light. So many of his comments over the past week were about how constantly feeling the pressure of being my Dom made sex more stressful than enjoyable. Obviously I never wanted that, but I understand that it was inevitable if he wasn’t comfortable in what he was doing. So reminding him how relaxing sex can be has been a goal.

I treat my cock right. And I hope he gives me the opportunity to continue to do so.

Faded into memory

Going to the big family holiday party tonight. Should be interesting. Sadly these marks will have faded before then, but at least I can pretend they are still there. My pussy is sore enough to remember.

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Defining Sexy

Yesterday on twitter I couldn’t stop talking about how much I wanted to give Sir oral. Just horny and a bit drunk, craving sex in all it’s forms. So last night after the kids went to bed Sir allowed me to indulge in cock worship for a good twenty minutes before flipping me over and fucking me senseless.

It was a good time.

But he also took a few pictures. And you know things that feel sexy that don’t necessarily look sexy. Try making your own porn with childbirth stretch marks and spare tires and you will know what I mean. But I was deep-throating and I consider that a very sexy activity.

And I have been assured by several people that it does actually look pretty damn sexy too.

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Survived!

We survived the first week of the boys in daycare/preschool all day. I haven’t worked out all the kinks (no pun intended) of being alone all day, but I’m getting there. I was able to do research on fencing companies for the new house and get back into a regular routine with my paid work. My boss was happy. My hours have been all over the place and I think she was worried that would make the quality of my work suffer. I’m sure that it didn’t, but I’m glad to be back to a schedule either way.

Yesterday Sir let me work on some of my craft projects in the afternoon. He told me that to make sure I remembered that all time is his time, I had to wear my plug while I worked. It actually made my sewing more pleasurable. If I have to do that every time I sew I will certainly remember every step. And it felt good to be back to some of my projects. Cooking dinner is one thing, but finishing a quilt is a completely different sense of accomplishment.

And Sir was so proud of me I got to have a lovely Doxy inspired orgasm before he started beating me last night. Of course, then he made me keep it on high on my clit until I couldn’t stand up anymore. Isn’t he sweet.

Today is a ‘hang out’ day (my 4yo’s new favorite phrase). Sir has a work thing at his head office on Monday, so he will traveling tomorrow. So today will be our family time. Maybe a trip to the park. Both our cars need oil changes and we will need a grocery run before the day is out, but not much else. Sir has mentioned going to the basement tonight, we’ll see what happens. My poor body is already shivering. I just don’t know if it’s from the excitement or how cold it will be down there.

Organizational Plan

Yesterday was all about a clean start, literally. I cleaned the house from top to bottom. Every room was scrubbed, vacuumed, and dusted. I even cleaned off the ceiling fans, which, if I’m honest, I’m not sure I’ve ever done before. They were gross. But it felt good to wipe away the dirt and grime. Not just because it makes my body twitch when I see how dirty the boys can make our house in one afternoon. But because I know it’s something that Sir appreciates. With his work hours he comes home tired and looking at a mess when he walks in the door isn’t really helpful. He knows that I have a lot on my plate, and anyone with kids knows that most cleaning is an exercise in futility.

So I was happy to see his smile last night when he got home. I think I was able to show him how much I enjoy my service. I don’t take it for granted. And it really gave me a chance to clear my head and remember what is important. Last night he used me and I wasn’t sure if I would get to cum. And the best part, I didn’t care. I came back to bed as satisfied as if I had an orgasm myself. To be used by him and to hear ‘good girl’, was the most relaxing feeling in the world. It reminded me why I crave this. I want to make him happy that I am his.

So today starts the next step in my organizational plan. I’m going to try and complete one small task each day. Probably not sexy, but something that will show him that I appreciate the chance to serve him and make coming home a little easier. The next few months will be hectic with the renovation and the move, so my daily tasks will help to chip away at that. Packing, sorting, cleaning, hoping every little bit will make a small difference. He’s allowing me to have the kids in daycare and preschool all day so I can be more productive; I don’t want to waste his generous gesture.

In any case, we are both feeling better today. Sir and I talked about some new rules regarding talking to him if I feel that we are getting too distant. Life happens, and I need to be more direct when that starts to get to me. As going forward, bratting (per his definition) will not be tolerated. He has enough to contend with and doesn’t need my poor behavior on top of it.

I’m sorry that my actions upset him, but at the same time, I’m glad we had this hiccup. We were able to work through it and realized a lot about how we deal with situations. We have a way to go, but I think, all in all, we processed it well. Not perfect, but well. These problems will happen from time to time and we’ll need to keep working through them. It was nice to know that we can without falling apart. We both want this enough.  That realization for the both of us was worth the bump in the road.

Secretions

Doesn’t that word sound gross. Secretions. It’s like moist; I hate that word too. But is it really the word, or it’s definition? And why? I mean, men secrete semen. More than 50% of the population thinks that’s the greatest thing in the world. And being part of that happy percentage, I have to wonder why the term always has a negative connotation. But it does.

Last night Sir was good to me. Not that he isn’t always good to me, but yesterday was rough in many ways. Just my overactive anxiety about the house inspection report and the build up of housework. By the time he got home from work I was stressed and worked my way up to tired crazy. So after the kids went to bed (they actually both passed out by 8:30) he had me get into my new present position. Back straight, forehead on the floor, palms up. After a few minutes the doxy was making my legs shake so bad I had to ask to move. Sir let me lay on my back on the edge of the bed. Between the doxy and him playing with my nipples and rubbing my body, it was honestly one of the strongest orgasms I can remember. And I squirted. A lot. I’m sure part of it was urine too (sorry if that was TMI).

As I lay there in my glow of orgasmic bliss I will admit it was dampened by the movement of Sir to pile towels under me and clean up ‘my mess’. I mean, we lay in a gooey pile of his cum all the time, so why the rush to clear away my goo? Maybe he was just encouraging me to not get too comfortable. I mean, he’s nice, but not all about the nonreciprocal charity. After a good beating and some rough fucking, I would like to think he had a nice orgasm as well.

So anyway, back to my fluids. I guess I just don’t know why generally a male fluid is seen as ok, while female fluids are not. I know that a lot of people (kinky people, mostly) think that squirting is a great achievement, but they never show the clean up. Eating cum is always shown in porn as amazing (I certainly don’t mind it). But I’ve never heard of anyone drinking squirt fluid (if it has a special name, I don’t know it). I think people just have too many connections with fluids coming out of vaginas and none of them good. I mean, Sir watched me give birth to both of our children, I’m surprised he wants to spend time down there at all. And then, of course, there is the monthly visitor that makes me feel gross. Women are, at least in my family/area/culture, made to look at period blood and other vaginal secretions as dirty. I get the yeast infection side of it, but normally isn’t wet and gooey a good thing?

Either way, I’m not going to feel bad about my messy but amazing orgasms. Sir allows me (orders me sometimes) to have some wonderful orgasms and the resulting goo is just my body saying thank you for them. And I will continue to happily show my gratitude.

*Just for clarification, Sir doesn’t shame me for squirting or making any messes during sex. His actions were reactionary and not a form of judgement. They just got me thinking.