Sunday, 31 October 2010

A Good Girl

When Master takes me out to be the entertainment of His friends, and gets intense pleasure in watching His whore being used at random, and also - to tell the truth - to my own pleasure of being humiliated and degraded, the celebration starts on the way to the party as He also enjoys humiliating me publicly outdoors. Dressed up as a true prostitute and wearing excessive makeup I draw the attention and often remarks of many passer-by. From that starting point, Master loves to push the envelope and stretch my limits.

Last weekend I was promised to three men, or more precisely traded as I learnt incidentally later on. We had to drive to their place as our home is situated in a far-off suburb. To please Master, my outfit was - as usual - making my body hard to ignore. I was excited too because I enjoy decorating myself. That evening I had squeezed my shapely (but sizeable!) bottom into a white transparent tight mini dress, leaving my body flaunted: “Plenty of cleavage in the front and round on the bottom”. That dress was short enough to display appropriately my legs in stockings and high heels, well in fact purposely a tad too short as Master wanted it because when seated one could see the top of my tan stockings and the suspender clips which I hate because it is too much. Master loves that and I admit I am in turn pleased to expose my sexy legs and thighs wearing revealing attire if I would prefer to hide the ‘technical’ part of the stockings. It would be more classy but certainly less slutty and I know I have no choice as I must be a walking cock teaser. I am all the same proud of my legs, as some of you already know… The distinctive feature of the day was the towering high heels Master offered me last week: Louboutin Slingback Peep Toe Pump, a gem. The pleasure of having them on helped me to take that I was wearing nothing under my dress but my gorgeous vintage peach satin deep suspender belt (Harlow, for the connoisseur) as Master had decided I would go without panties. Higher, my black hair was slicked back so that nothing was hiding my nipples pointing out as I was wearing a sheer half bra letting my globes clearly visible through the revealing light fabric of the dress. I knew I was looking smoking hot.

I sat in the car, my dress lifted to the waist, arranged so that my bare ass was touching the seat. That rule is clear, I must always sit that way when I am in “service mode”, will it be on a chair, a sofa or a car seat. As a result, my thighs, stocking tops and suspenders were on full sight up to the crotch and my pussy was not far from sight. I was also advised to keep my legs apart so to leave little doubt on the kind of floozy I was. Each stop at traffic lights or else was bringing men looking with lust at me through the window or the windscreen. I was keeping my eyes cast down to escape the looks while I was only getting what could be expected.

I also knew that at one point “it” would come and “it” did, as most often: opening the electric passenger window, Master ordered me to masturbate unashamedly. Needless to say the few last stops were hot. Even if public humiliation turns me on, fingering openly my cunt in the car is really the limit and I was longing for that trip to finish. I had a peek at Master, He was looking happy. As my purpose is to satisfy Him it convinced me that I was happy as well.

What is “service mode”, you may wonder? Simple. As I wrote in earlier entries, I am in love with a Man who became my Master by uncovering my deepest longings to the height of submission. I serve, obey and please Him as He desires, I am His property. As for all the males I happened to have belonged to, but much more in His case, He has a ceaseless appetite for sex. In our ordinary lifestyle, I follow the basic rules and try my best to be His slutty inventive bitch, perhaps no more all in all than the ordinary perverted whore many girls happen to be under their chic cover-up. At times, when Master feels like it or when He shares me to be the fuck toy of His friends for His own greatest pleasure, He orders me to shift to the “service mode” which He may also call the “slave mode”. To understand how I must behave in “service mode” was the purpose of many “training sessions”, but I had, He said, an innate grasp and got it right in a few months without too many punishments. In that mode, I must be totally submissive, 100 percent under His direction and control, silent (a “slave” never speaks unless spoken to), and I must observe a number of strict rules, called “protocols”, not usually used in our ordinary lifestyle, which have been taught to me during my assiduous and diligent training.

Coming back to our trip, He dropped me in the street where the building we were making for was situated and told me to wait for Him standing at a corner while He was parking. As expected, thanks to being dressed up (or undressed?) as a prostitute, men at large were sure to speak to a streetwalker and some asked for the price of my service. Others honked and whistled when driving by as it was not usual to meet escorts in that area. In reality they were not that wrong in taking me for a prostie, I was thinking, as Master was again brokering the sexual favours of His slut and taking pleasure in arranging for me to service whoever will be there. He was my pimp and I was in turn His wanton obedient sextoy.

I know one day will come He will leave me in the street and make me act as a real prostitute, ordering me to accept and be fucked by any passerby who wants and pays for it, provided He finds the way to watch me servicing the client (happily He doesn’t appear to have the solution yet). That evening was not the time, we had better to do as three cocks were waiting upstairs for my holes.

The lift took us to the upper floor, we entered the penthouse and found them waiting for us in the sitting room, glass in hands. In fact there were three persons I had not met before, but only two penis, as the third person was a woman. A real woman, not a girl, I mean not a cunt like me who is used solely for recreational sex. I was scared at first sight when I saw how she looked down at me. Master ordered me to “stay”, took a drink and sat with them making small talk. I waited obediently in front of them, standing as I have been taught, legs apart, breasts pushed out, hands locked in my back, head up and eyes down. And silent.

After a time Master turned to me and asked: “Are you ready, slut?” I responded “Your slut is always ready and would be happy to satisfy You any way You wish, Sir.” One of the guys told Master “We’ll see if your slave is correctly trained and if we agree her in our community.” Turning to me, he added: “Insubordinate behaviour will not be tolerated.” I had no intention to rebelling…

“Turn around and bend over, slut”, He ordered. I did, knowing the dress would expose my ass and pussy to all. I thought briefly that at this stage, before touching me, they will not notice some wetness from the control taken over me. The woman remained seated as well as Master, and the two men walked at me. I was in the middle of the sitting room turning my back and did not see them coming. They ordered me to strip off, keeping only my shoes and stockings on, then to bent over again, when they started a throughout and quite painful inspection, grabbing and slapping my asscheeks, fingering my pussy and my asshole (oh! Why nobody asked them to cut their nails short?), parting my labia and pulling the lips, stretching my vagina, ill-treating my so sensitive clit, grabbing hold of my boobs and pinching my nipples hard. They were taking possession of my body, but from the way they were voicing their pleasure I knew they were happy to make it painful.

After endless minutes, I was ordered to go by the sofa where the woman was sitting. There was some equipment on the coffee table that I did not notice earlier. One of the guys took leather wristcuffs and attached my hands behind my back. The other one clamped my tits with metal pinchers. “Not very painful”, he said, “unless pulled…” and he attached a connecting chain with weights pulling down. “Ouch, Sir! That really hurts!” I said. I should have remained silent… “Wait, slut!” Again, I was told to bend and a large buttplug was inserted into my anus. I thought “Ouch” again, but remained silent… and bent over to have my ass spanked, as I heard: “For your remark, a brief punishment! Laura, to you!”

Laura, the woman, got up, stood there for some minutes watching before retrieving a flogger on the table, a whip with tightly braid falls. She walked around me and I felt suddenly the sting of the flogger against my ass. Several more strikes hit my ass harder each time. I was biting my lips and trying not to wriggle. She then walked around to be in front of me and started to flog my tits. As the first one came down on a nipple, I inhaled quickly as the lash hit and tried to move my hands but the handcuffs were closely adjusted. I thought “Please finish it over soon” but I knew I had to accept the punishment. The woman continued to lash out on my breasts, causing the clamps and weights to sway from side to side. They pulled and tugged lightly at first but the lashes were coming faster and harder the clamps and weights sway, twisting the nipples. My groans were getting louder, and my tits were starting to turn red from the beating. The woman stopped the lashing for a few moments and my breathing returned to normal, then it started right back up again on my ass and stopped for good after I counted twenty. I had tears in my eyes from the pain but I was moist and horny.

Laura returned to the sofa but before sitting she removed her panties and lifted her skirt to the waist. She was wearing elegant sheer mesh hold-up stockings, with flower motif lace-top and back seams. She spread her legs open and said “Come on, pet, kneel before me.” Her pussy was hairy, completely unshaven. One of the Doms released me from my handcuffs and my nipple clamps. While I kneeled, the two men started stripping and I saw briefly Master in His armchair, dressed up but fly open and masturbating very slowly. I was missing His impressive rod but had to do with these strangers. While I was licking and kissing my way up along Laura’s thighs to her pussy, tasting the wetness that was escaping as I was running closer, she placed her hands on my ass to hold me while I reached the pussy before me. My tongue found easily its way through the fur and parted the lips to taste the juices being held in. I slid the tongue along the slit in the middle, the one side then the other. Searching, I found a hard nub, the clit begging for attention, I circled it slowly, and I moved my head further so to bite the clit and hold while my tongue continued to tease it. I buried my face into the woman’s pussy, and I felt the juices running over my face, down my chin.

Times ago I had some sex experiences with girls, but it was the first time since Master owns me that I had to please a female. Not difficult, as I knew of course what to do and I could hear from her screams I was doing well. While I was quite busy with her vagina, one of the men came in my back, removed the butt plug from my ass and put his hard cock at my butthole. Laura, who still had her hands on my buttocks, spread the cheeks. The man teased my cunt and my butthole with the tip of his cock, and then slid the large and hard shaft slowly all the way into my ass. I gasped as it finished its entrance into my hole, I thought “He is going to fuck me hard, I did well in taking an enema this morning and make sure I am clean for Master’s friends, who like a dirty girl but not a shitty one.” As expected, the man grabbed my hips and started ramming into my asscunt as hard as he could and I suddenly heard “Hell yeah, take my cum up your slut whore ass” when Laura was screaming too. He was cumming in my ass just when the woman had an orgasm. They got me so wet, it was just dripping out of my pussy.

The other man could not wait anymore. He grabbed my hair, pulled me firmly and got me on my knees in front of him. I took his rod into my mouth like a piece of candy. While savouring the texture and flavour of his cock, I could feel the wetness spreading between my legs. Yes after all I love when Master throw me at men to pleasure them. He reached down and took my nipples in between his fingers and started to roll them. I felt his cock was growing even more over the next several minutes as I sucked and licked it. Then I felt as if it was going to explode in my mouth and it did. I twirled my tongue around the tip, then started to swallow the cum in my mouth but not releasing the cock until it was completely finished. I swallowed the whole load, obediently, milking the awesome penis to the last drop, while I could feel the cum of the first man oozing out from my ass, leaving a small puddle underneath me.

Master rose and come to me saying “Since you did such a good job today I am going to let you have my cum inside of you.” My body shuddered and I nearly orgasmed before He touched me. I did not want gentle, I wanted rough, animalistic, primal fucking. Master pushed me into the seat of the sofa, at Laura’s side, slamming his body against mine, and slipped his cock deep into my cunt and before I had a chance to exhale, He was pumping hard and deep. I was immediately consumed with lust and the sensation of his shaft rubbing in and out of my already sensitive hole caused me to whimper, to moan, to beg for more. Each thrust was harder than the last and deeper. I told Him I wanted to come “May I, please, Sir”. He said “Yes you may cum” and while I whispered “Thank You Sir!” my gasping became sharper, my moaning higher pitched. Suddenly I screamed, and His erection swelled harder than ever. My orgasm peaked His own, and as promised He ejaculated in me. My cunt was all creamy, I was in Heaven, if he had said anything I would have spasmed once again.

Master’s cum must never go to waste, so while cleaning His cock with my mouth I squeezed every last drop. Then I got up, spread my legs open, put a hand on my pussy to collect His juice leaking out of my vagina, and swallowed respectfully.


Friday, 29 October 2010

Submissive women, testosterone and elections

When You are awake, Sir, I am Your obedient slut, Your submissive fuck toy, Your silent property. When You rest or sleep, or when I am alone and I have finished my tasks, I am an ordinary girl who loves reading girlish mags.

That one says, and I like the idea: “Explore your nightie side; go for tempting boudoir rather than tacky bra if you’re looking to pull off one of the season’s toughest look…” Forget about Madonna’s conical bras, Sienna’s Bridget-style pants and Lady Gaga’s lace bodysuits, summer scariest-sounding trend is not as frightening as it would appear. Think boudoir inspired instead: camisole tops, slip-style dresses, stockings with a hint of suspender – either in the shade of blush and nude, or toughened up in black and charcoal. The look is meant to be sexy.

“Look for the woman in the dress,” Coco Chanel once decreed, meaning that her customer, not her clothes, should draw the eye first. With the current vogue of blush and “flesh”-colored fashion, following this directive is at once easy. Easy when the palette is deployed in transparent fabrics, like that nude lace top that made it impossible not to look at the model… or at least at her instantly discernible nipples. I’ll certainly buy that when I find it, Master bound to like. Must buy a small bag too. Small bags are alluring. I’ve done the big bag thing filled with 15 pounds worth of “essentials” and suffered angry red welts on my shoulder from hauling around all that cargo, and I’m over it.

What’s the next article? How do I make my makeup look fresh all day... Perfect makeup begins with perfect skincare etc. Why do I read always the same stuff and keep finding it so interesting?

But Master wants I read His serious papers and mags alongside my usual feminine stuff. I obey. Browsing “The Economist” I read an interesting paper on women’s rights in South Africa, which made me reflect on the thin dissimilarity between slaves involved in the old school of M/s. (Slaves with no limits, total respect and who surrender to their Masters complete and absolute control, that’s me!) and the picture of some women in South Africa.

In the World Economic Forum’s “gender gap index” South Africa comes an impressive sixth out of 134 countries in the world but in the UN’s “gender-related development index” it is ranked a poor 129th out of 182. Such a wide discrepancy is not simply because the various bodies measure different things, but also because the picture of women in South Africa is so mixed.

In the “founding provisions” of South Africa’s 1996 constitution, “non-sexism” is given equal billing with “non-racialism”. To promote women’s rights in what had been a predominantly patriarchal society among whites as well as blacks, the ruling African National Congress has brought in a slew of laws over the past 16 years, legalising abortion, giving women equal power in marriage, cracking down on domestic violence, criminalising sexual harassment at work, banning all gender discrimination and providing women of any skin colour with the same degree of affirmative action in education, employment and politics as blacks, coloureds and Indians.

On paper South Africa has one of the world’s most impressive legal arsenals for protecting women’s rights. But the gap between principle and practice is often wide. In other areas, however, women’s progress has been slower. It is in the home, particularly in black ones, that attitudes have changed least. There men continue to rule the roost, sometimes imposing their authority with drug- or alcohol-fuelled brutality. In its latest world report, Human Rights Watch, a New York-based lobby, describes the level of physical and sexual violence against South African women as “shockingly high”. South Africa has one of the highest incidences of reported rape in the world. In a study by the World Health Organisation, fully 40% of South African women claimed that their first experience of sex was non-consensual.

The (black) founder of a new women’s-rights lobby, the Sonke Gender Justice Network, says his biggest challenge is to convince men that abusing women is culturally unacceptable. But, and there is where I wanted to come, women are sometimes complicit, too, the paper adds. Violence is often seen as a normal part of male-female relations. According to recent research by the Centre for the Study of Violence and Reconciliation, a Johannesburg-based group, most black women believe a man has a right to have sex with his wife or partner whenever he wants. Another study showed that most black teenagers felt it is fine to force sex on a girl if you know her or if she accepts a drink from you.

Traditional customs die hard. President Jacob Zuma has at least 21 children by at least ten different women, four of whom he married; he is now engaged to another, who is pregnant. In certain rural areas women are still expected to walk a few paces behind their husbands. In KwaZulu-Natal thousands of bare-breasted maidens display their virginal beauty in a dance before the polygamous Zulu king, Goodwill Zwelithini. In villages in the eastern Cape teenage girls continue to be forced into marriages with older men who treat them as virtual slaves. Women who do not fit into the community are still sometimes burned as witches. Lesbians are gang-raped to “cure” them of their follies.

That is what I read.

Let’s continue with other news of the world, again from the same “Economist” copy.

When Barack Obama won the American presidency in 2008 his supporters cheered, cried, hugged—and in many cases logged on to their computers to look at pornography. And, lest Republicans crow about the decadence of their opponents, precisely the obverse happened when their man won in 2004.

Ha-ha. That, at least, is the conclusion of a study by Patrick Markey of Villanova University, in Pennsylvania, and his wife Charlotte, who works at Rutgers, in New Jersey. The Markeys were looking for confirmation of a phenomenon called the challenge hypothesis. This suggests that males involved in a competition will experience a rise in testosterone levels if they win, and a fall if they lose.

The challenge hypothesis was first advanced to explain the mating behaviour of monogamous birds. In these species, males’ testosterone levels increase in the spring, to promote aggression against potential rivals. When the time comes for the males to settle down and help tend their young, their testosterone falls, along with their aggressive tendencies. Something similar has since been found to apply to fish, lizards, ring-tailed lemurs, rhesus monkeys, chimpanzees—and humans. Previous research has found these hormonal ups and downs in male wrestlers, martial artists, tennis players, chess players and even people playing a coin-flip game. In evolutionary terms, it makes sense. If a losing male continues to be aggressive, the chances are he will be seriously injured (it is unlikely natural selection could have foreseen competitive coin-tossing). Turning down his testosterone level helps ward off that risk. Conversely, the winner can afford to get really dominant, as the threat of retaliation has receded.

For most species, determining that this actually happens requires a lot of boring fieldwork. But the Markeys realised that in the case of people they could cut the tedium by asking what was going on in those parts of the web that provide a lot more traffic than their users will ever admit to, on the assumption that men fired up by testosterone have a greater appetite for pornography than those who are not. To do this they first used a web service called WordTracker to identify the top ten search terms employed by people seeking pornography (“xvideos” was the politest among them). Then they asked a second service, Google Trends, to analyse how often those words were used in the week before and the week after an American election, broken down by state.

Their results, just published in “Evolution and Human Behavior”, were the same for all three of the elections they looked at—the 2004 and 2008 presidential contests, and the 2006 mid-terms (in which the Democrats made big gains in both houses of Congress). No matter which side won, searches for porn increased in states that had voted for the winners and decreased in those that had voted for the losers. The difference was not huge; it was a matter of one or two per cent. But it was consistent and statistically significant. If the polls are right, then, next Tuesday’s mid-term elections will see red faces in the red states for those furtive surfers who are caught in the act. In the blue states, meanwhile, a fit of the blues will mean the screens stay switched off.

Interesting. Could please my American followers tell me if they observe that? My Master is British, and frankly I don’t remember if He fucked me a special way after the recent pool in the UK.


Friday, 8 October 2010

Items for bdsm

My view of Master’s Shopping List. Bondage and pain coupled nicely hand in hand.

I’m sure He has everything in store, but I’ve not (yet?) experienced all.

First, I’ll list what I know for they have been used for my training or are so familiar to me as part of my everyday routine:

  • Collar, of course (I’ve been collared last March. To be accurate, it’s not 24/7 as I don’t wear it at work for instance neither outside in ‘normal’ weekday’s situations).
  • Butt plugs (different sizes and shapes), was difficult at the beginning particularly the largest ones but since I’ve grown to learn and I love them so much! Master did so well on my ass with His cock and His whole set of plugs that I enjoy the sensation of anal sex just as much or sometimes more than vaginal penetration. He is proud of this fact and often tells His friends, male or female, in front of me of course: “This is a slut who loves it up her ass! She's a total anal whore." I stand eyes down, happy to be His pride in public no matter how much it embarrasses me.
  • Buckle up leather wrist and ankle cuffs with chrome plated snap links to couple them together. Various types of spreader bars. Yummy stuff, leaving me helpless, open, vulnerable, humiliated, treated like an object and exposed for sex or punishment and more often both. Also, naked but heels stockings and garter belt, on my knees, I am in heaven when Master cuffs my wrist in my back and orders me to worship His cock. In clear that means He expects the serious and professional whorish bj His slave owes Him. When you cannot use your hands, your whole body must act and help sucking and not only your head. Master loves that!
  • Table for tying: when that one is used, I know pain will come before pleasure. But now after nine months of harsh training, I crave for both even if I still fear crops and canes.
  • Nipple clamps (various types, some spring loaded to shut tightly) and connecting chain, and various weights to clip to the chain or ring. Ouch! Why must Doms torture my poor tits and nipples? Master indulges in it, the more because I fear it, and all His kinky friends have obviously the same devious taste for breast torture.
  • Pussy clamps, chains and various weights. Not pleasant though humiliating and thereby exciting, sometimes part of the Masters’ fun including my Owner’s.
  • Gags. In a way I am happy to be gagged.
  • Leather whips, different sort of spanking paddles (one embossed with "slut" in reverse so it leaves an impression on my butt), riding crops, floggers, and, the worse, canes with a bamboo cane which delivers quite a sting. Routine. Please see “table for tying” above. I more particularly worship the crop He bought last summer in Oman, a beautiful souvenir for me!
Not used (yet!):
  • Blindfold, Black leather Y strap, 3 Way Hogtie Clip and all sorts of Leather Bondage Straps. I’ve never been blindfolded, and Master’s bondage kit is limited to what I wrote above (cuffs and occasionally spreadbars).
And, importantly, I have learnt to use the voice protocol to please Master: “Sir, if it pleases You, Your slave would be so happy to be spanked until her ass is bright red and marked. Sir, if it pleases You, will You bind Your slave so that she cannot move at all while You use the buggy whip on her ass and thighs and feet until she screams and cries so hard she can barely breathe.”

If you have any ideas to add, please post a comment, Master would be happy to see where it goes…