Chasing Me Chasing You

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

941.081 Reign of Victoria

I looked over the text conversation from that morning:

Me: I am shy on the outside

Him: Like a naughty librarian, calm and demure on the outside. Kinky to the core on the inside.

Me: Believe it or not, I have an MLIS degree.

Him: I knew there was a reason I like you. So you really are the naughty librarian.
 
Me: Yep 🙂 
Him: If I may, I bet checking out books from you would be fun

Me: It would. I have glasses and a collection of cardigans. Wearing that and nothing else but heels makes work fun 🙂

Him: I do need help finding a book in the back area of the reference library.

Me: Well, I know how finding things back there can be confusing. I can help.

Him: Oh good, I’ll be by in a bit.

Text flirting with him was always fun, and we had talked about meeting several times, but the idea of our first face to face interaction taking place at my work had me a little on edge. I recognized him as soon as he walked up the steps to the reference section, and I was sure by the grin he gave me that he knew me as well. But games must be played. Besides, I had told him I was shy.

“Can I help you find something?”

“Yes, thank you. I’m looking for some reference material on the Victorian era.”
“Anything specific, bloodletting, or corsets, perhaps?”
“Corsets and formal gatherings seem a good place to start.”
“I have lots on that. In the back room.”

“Excellent, I’m doing some research into high protocol Victorian functions. Lead the way.”

I walked from behind the desk and led him down to the last stack and turned. “Sounds interesting. Researching for business or pleasure?”

“Pleasure, strictly pleasure. Have always been fascinated by that era.”

“Excellent.”
“Let’s see what you have on the subject, I have also been curious if the Marquis de Sade had any effect on the Victorian age. The rules of a Victorian household and punishment.”
“Sounds downright inspirational.”

“Rather stimulating on many levels. Spankings and switched were used as common form of punishment.”

 “Maybe you could assist with some of my research, a bit more hands on so to speak.”
 “We librarians always love to help with research.” I turned down the far stack until I reached the 940s.
” I’ve always been curious as to the effects of spanking as a form of punishment. I think this would be the perfect spot to begin testing that theory. We would need to set a baseline. Turn around and face that bookcase. Grab a hold of the highest shelf you can and keep still.

“Then do so, good girl.” He watched almost admiringly as I stretched out to grasp the shelf. I wanted to be good and stare at the shelf, but I couldn’t help following him as he surveyed me. His eyes caught mine and locked on them. “I think there is more to you than just a librarian, you didn’t hesitate when I told you to grab the shelf. Let’s see if we can version to turn the key. Hold on to the shelf and do not let go. You are not to make a sound or I will make it hurt even more”.

He placed a hand at the small of my back as he lifted up my cardigan, I could see him smiling at what I saw beneath it. I tried not to shift in anticipation. Holding the cardigan with one hand he reached out and gave each cheek of my ass a hard squeeze. With a downward swiping motion he connected his hand with my ass in a good swat.

I gripped the shelf tighter, but made no noise. Giving me a few more squeezes I felt my skin begin to warm beneath his hand. Then, using the flat of his hand in quick succession he landed several hard smacks. A tear ran free from my right eye, but I bit my lip to keep quiet.
He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “your doing good girl”. He continued spanking me, this time though each time his hand landed on a cheek he pressed in to let the power of each spank to move through me. My whimpers began to turn to moans as another tear streamed down my face. When he switched it up once more, he started spanking with his finger tips to give more sting. Quickly the whimpers returned.
Stopping for a moment he rubbed my back. “Are you sure you’ve not done this before?” He asked, his warm breath played across my ear. I tried to give my most innocent face as I shook my head, but then I wiggled my ass to encourage him not to stop.
“I think this book might be exactly what you’re looking for”. He reached out as I handed him a book on Victorian marriages and corporal punishment being used to keep wives in line.
“A wonderful place to start. Thank you for your assistance. It was most helpful. Of course, if this doesn’t answer my questions I may be back tomorrow to get a something else.”
“I’m in at 8”. I wiped the tears from my eyes, straightened my cardigan, and smiled as I walked backed to the reference desk.
 Wicked Wednesday for post Stockpiled Cravings

Hide and Go Seek

Hide and go seek is not a game that Sir likes to play. About the only thing worse is tickling him. But sometimes I get the playful urge to run and hide before I consider the consequences of my actions. It’s when I’m hiding and I hear his footsteps coming across the room that I remember the predicament that I’ve just placed myself. And then all I can do is wait for him to find me.

Because even if he hates the game, he still always wins.

Sirs feet and legs walking by with a crop as we play hide and go seek.

 

Don’t forget to see who else is (mis)behaving in this week’s Sinful Sunday.

Sinful Sunday Kiss Logo

Reward Mind Games

Sir: So that reward system I’ve been working on…It’s a common pool of gold stars and red X’s. You can spend the stars on extra calories or pampering from me.

Interesting. :Rye

Sir: Oh there’s more. Red X’s cancel out stars until they are erased, so 2x’s plus 5 stars is 3 stars to spend. You will be able to earn stars from me for ‘spontaneous acts of slutiness’.

Challenge Accepted 🙂 :Rye

Sir: I hope you are as accepting of how you get rid of the red X’s.

🙁 :Rye

Sir: 🙂

Politely Pink

Excuse Me. Did you just say ‘No’ to me?

I gulped. Crap. What were we talking about? What did I say? I instinctively pulled against my rope harness. Pointless, but still something I found myself doing when I got nervous. I ran through our conversation quickly until I reached his last statement that I was going to be burning tonight. I had instantly said no.

Yes, Sir.

Does it say anything about wax or fire play in your hard limits?

No, Sir.

Did I ask your opinion regarding tonight’s activities?

No, Sir.

Then unless you have a very good explanation for your rudeness…?

He waited. I had walked into that trap before. I stayed silent.

I didn’t think so. Come kneel by the spanking bench.

He walked to the hutch and collected several items on a tray. Then he came back and straddled the bench next to me, setting the tray on the floor. I wanted to look. Another mistake I had walked into in the past. I kept my gaze lowered.

He began wiping my body down with a damp cloth. He spent a lot of time focusing on my breasts and the tops of my thighs. When he was finished he pulled my chin up to meet his stare.

You will not move.

Yes, Sir.

He let go of my chin, but didn’t direct it back down. I stared at the chaise lounge across the room, trying not to be tempted by his actions a few feet away.

He turned back toward me a moment later and at that same instant I felt a sharp burning on my left breast. I inhaled sharply and clenched my fists to keep from moving. The rope harness held my back straight, but it was all I could do to keep from falling over. Before I had a chance to steady my breathing another sting hit my right breast. He had a thing about balance.

See, this is fun.

He leaned in and pulled on my collar.

And you love it.

He pulled me in for a quick kiss, pushed me back upright and angled the candle so a line of wax ran across my chest. Rather than pulling it up, he let it continue to drip on my nipple. Love it or not, it still hurt. I was just glad I was kneeling, as that meant my pussy was probably safe. Several more drips and I was breathing heavily. My forehead was sweaty as all my muscles were tightened to keep me kneeling and prepared for the next drip.

The body safe candles were red, but when they melted and hardened against my skin it looked pink. He knew I hated pink, another part of my punishment, I was sure. And my pale white skin was quickly matching it. I was trying to focus on the chair, but I swear he used about ten candles on me. My breasts and thighs were completely covered. My breathing had almost returned to normal as he finished the last candle. I had gotten accustomed to the burn as the wax hit fresh skin.

I have no idea how much time had passed, but he eventually set down the lighter and put the tray back on the shelf. I think I let out an audible sigh. He pulled something else from a drawer and walked back to me.

Now wasn’t that fun?

I kept silent. Rolling my eyes  or a sarcastic comment would just get me in a lot more trouble.

Let’s address your rudeness from earlier. Get into position, but don’t mess up all the pretty artwork I just did.

I hesitated for several moments just to figure out how to move without cracking the wax. But I slowly shimmed to spread and raise my knees and bend over. The wax held my chest in a tightened shape as my forehead hit the floor. I could see all of his handy work for the first time at this new angle. I really hate pink.

Now, you were quite rude and you know that that is unacceptable. You will take your punishment and thank me for my correction.

Yes, Sir.

The ‘Sir’ had hardly left my lips when the belt came down on my ass. I gave a short moan, but didn’t cry out. Balance again continued as he struck one side and then the other. I quickly zoned out into the rhythm of his strikes. I used to count them out loud and then in my head. Now I just felt each one and reflected on my mistake. Letting each mark show his forgiveness of my error and how much he loves me.

There, now your ass matches your tits and thighs. You know how much I enjoy the symmetry of it all.

Yes, Sir. Thank you for my punishment, Sir.

See, there’s my politely pink slave. Now let’s see if we can make that pretty little clit of yours as pink as the rest of you.

NO!

Oh, shit.

~~

See other entries into the Lippie competition or read how to enter yourself.

Making you smile

I want your hand around my neck. Feeling my pulse. Changing it at your whim.

I want you to hit me, harder than you ever have. I want you to beat me until your cock erupts from my moans. Until my red flesh is calling for your cum. A belt around my body; a tightening handle when you tire of holding my hair.

My body craves to be used by you, for you. Nothing would make me happier than to fulfill all of your desires. I am always my happiest to be your fuck toy, pain toy, and slave.

I want to show you how strong I am. Being strong for you is the happiest I have ever been. The smile you give me when you are proud of me. All I crave are those smiles.

A Better Way

Punishment Writing Assignment:
Instructions:
On Thursday, August 27 you will post these instructions, the prompt below, and your response to that prompt. You will not add any additional explanation, though, from Friday, August 28 onward, you may discuss – or not – the assignment and the facts underlying it as you see fit.
Prompt:
You have been given an instruction by your dominant over an electronic media. It is clear to you that the described task is expected to be completed immediately or as soon as possible. It is also clear to you that it is based on a misinterpretation (reasonable or not) about your availability to complete the task. In fact, this misinterpretation makes you feel some resentment because you feel it represents, on some level, a failure for your dominant to be aware of you and the realities of your life. Your first instinct is to respond with something snarky, sarcastic, and disrespectful. Instead, you take a deep breath and think of a respectful way to respond.
Provide 12 different ways to respectfully respond to your dominant in this instance. Your responses may be either written, verbatim, as you would write them to reply in the electronic media, or they may be an explanation of actions that you would take in response to your dominant’s instructions.
1. “Sir, may I please have an extended deadline to complete this task? I am currently dealing with an impatient child. If you require [said task] to be completed immediately, I may need some help in addressing the children’s needs. Thank you.”
2.  Try to make the children as comfortable as possible and complete the ordered task. I needed to recognize that you would understand that I was doing my best and following your orders as soon as I could.
3. “Sir, to complete this task I will need some help with the kids. Can you please relieve me of ‘mom duty’ when you get time? Thank you, Sir.”
4. “Sir, I apologize, but I have a work deadline and a lot to complete. Could you please clarify when you need [said task] completed and I will do my best to meet those expectations? Thank you Sir.”
5. “Yes, Sir.”
6. “Yes, Sir. I am wrestling with [child x or y] and I will take care of that as soon as possible.”
7. “Sir, the children are worked up and require my undivided attention at this moment. Would it possible to have a hand with them so I can complete this task for you, or an extension to finish it as soon as I get them settled down? Thank you, Sir.”
8. “Yes, Sir. Can you please specify a time frame that you need this completed?
9. “Sir, Would it be possible to review my daily tasks with you? I am unsure, with the children’s current behavior (needy/clingy) that I will able to meet your expectations as far as chores are concerned. I would appreciate if we could look at and possibly edit the list for today. Thank you, Sir.”
10. “Yes, Sir. Can you please clarify the priority of this task? Thank you, Sir.”
11. Yes, Sir. I must respectfully request that you come down and help me with the children. I am struggling to complete my standard work and cannot take care of the [said task] as this time.”
12. Suck it up, make it work, and get it done. “This task has been completed, Sir.”
Additional Response demanded as Numbers 7 and 11 were too similar:
13. “Yes, Sir. Can this [said task] be combined with my evening chores as I do not have the ability to take care of it presently? Once the children go to bed I will have a chance to give this my full attention. Thank you, Sir.”
Love you Sir.

Spitefully Pale

So last night was a bit hectic. The baby smashed a glass bottle all over the kitchen floor. He was fine, but dinner had to be stopped to I could lock everyone out of the kitchen and clean up shards of glass. Then Sir was late getting home as work stuff is getting crazy. So by the time the kids were in bed we were both ready to pass out too. But some urges are stronger than sleep.

After giving me a mind blowing orgasm I was told to roll over and present my ass for coloring. I think he takes it as some sort of personal challenge that for whatever reason, my skin doesn’t mark well. Like it is somehow being defiant by not turning a deep enough red for him. So my skin needed to be punished for its disobedience.

To test how much I could really take, he went through several implements. Warm-up was a dirty word; I am sure he started with the angry red bastard on purpose. I think I remember feeling the flicker whip, the belt, the crop, and at least two more that I could not recognize just by their sting. He was also very concerned with surface coverage. So my skin was tested all down my legs and around the sides of my hips. He even went after the bottoms of my feet (that shit stings!). When Sir finished, I think I had some pretty good marks. He took a few pictures, but even a few minutes later they had already started to fade. I think for a minute he considered starting all over. Sadist.

While my skin may feel comfortable spiting Sir by not giving a permanent reminder of the pain he caused, I was not. Luckily, he took pity on me and just decided to fuck me instead. However, even if he couldn’t see the marks anymore, I could certainly still feel them. Moans of pain and pleasure sound remarkably similar. Sir likes both though, so it works out well.

Being both delightfully used and marked (though completely faded by this point) I curled up on my bed on the floor and drifted off in minutes. After several days of stress, the comfort of my slave space next to his side of the bed was amazing. And, according to my fitness tracker, the most sleep I’ve gotten all week.

The Look in Her Eyes

I towered over her. She sat on the white tile floor, I stood on the ledge that kept the water in the shower. I forced her keep her bra on. That bra that was not part of her uniform. It would wash.
My piss danced across her chest, her face, and into her open mouth. She had been instructed to watch my cock as I pissed on her.
She tried. She really tried.
I could tell it was too much for her when I was only half-way through my bladder. I decided to keep going – no point in showing mercy when you’re trying to train someone to be a piss drinker.
My stream continued to falter slightly as my arousal made me hard and made it difficult to aim. Eventually, I finished. She didn’t move. Her eyes struggled to follow my cock as she breathed a sigh of relief. I love it when she thinks we are finished.
I knelt before her, and looked into her eyes. They shone with unrealized tears. She wouldn’t look at me. Couldn’t.
There was still piss in her mouth.
“Look at me.”
She didn’t try.
“LOOK AT ME!” I shouted.
She did. The struggle to stay calm made her shoulders shake. She was close to breaking, but I had to keep pushing. I had to know.
“Close your mouth. Don’t swallow until I tell you to.”
Trembling, she inched her jaw closed, but never made it. At the last crucial second she coughed and spat piss back at me. It splattered across my white dress shirt and the floor of the shower. She immediately started sobbing, wordlessly.
I stood up, took off my shirt, balled it into one hand, and knelt back down.
“You couldn’t do it?” It wasn’t a question.
She shook her head. Her sobbing slowed and her body trembled, waiting for the strike that would come. She tried to keep looking at me, but her fear kept putting her eyes to the floor.
And the strike did come. Hard. She spit piss onto her master’s shirt. Intentional or not, that sort of thing is deserving of stern punishment.
But it would come later.
I grabbed her chin and slowly tilted her head up, her eyes to meet my own. I took my crumpled shirt and wiped the tears and piss and sweat from her face. Gently, because that is what she needed in that moment. I took off the offending bra and threw it and my shirt in a crumpled ball on the floor. She would get it later. And hand wash it too.
Her eyes changed, softened, relaxed. No longer the deer in the headlights, she was now a docile and domesticated thing, her normal self.
I pulled her forward, onto my shoulder, and petted her head, told her that I was proud of the effort, that I would punish the infraction soon, and that we were done with piss training for the night. She said nothing and I said nothing more.

Wicked Wednesday