Thursday, 30 December 2010

Postcard

If you follow me on Twitter, you will know that I am now in England for the holidays. As nearly every year since I left the parental home, I took a week off this time again to come over to my parent’s over Xmas and the New Year. Until last year, last Season included, I was just the “lost girl” (in my folks mind) coming back in our southern England family house, reviving with the kin our Christmas gatherings of the old days.  This was happy times, not always easy, as you may know if you had a read of my early blog entries, but all in all I liked it.

This time it is quite different and oddly same. Last year at that time I was further than dating with Master, we were already having a hot relationship and from my standpoint He was my boyfriend or a tad more. I was not aware that He had sharply spotted my tendency to submission and had the right feeling of my future aptitude and talents as His slave. My training started progressively but later, in February/March. And so, this very year, for the first time, I am not the routine naughty girl my family used to have with them. My look is about the same, if my dressing is a bit sluttier, and I am still the despair of my parents… But my brother and sister and in-law have noticed a change. I was known to be the easy girl, toying with men for a while, and then going onto the next one. Now, I am not anymore chatting about friends with benefits, and I am not at ease to describe the man I am living with or what I do with Him – for the good reasons you know – and I even find difficult to pronounce His given name while I keep fighting not to say ‘Master’… In a nutshell, trying not to “come out”.

A bit of background to help your understanding. I’m now 35, I was born in England in a southern city. I graduated an A level but did not go to the university. I was young (15) when I became sexually active, and it changed my life. I became soon sort of an addict. Not my parent’s style! I know I’m pretty and sexy, not a model but attractive and very early all sort of guys were around me. In turn I was attracted so much by males (not women at that time) that I left home early to move away from my puritan prissy background and my provincial city atmosphere. Not my sister and brother are puritan and prissy and provincial, but mom and dad of course. I found easily a job as secretary in London and took there a studio apartment. As I wrote in this blog, my first position at 19 was in fact “secretary with benefits,” which was the very ordinary way I found to bypass the other candidates while they were far more skilled. You may find that immoral and unethical, but at that time though shy I was already an “easy” girl, and nothing would have stopped me to gain my freedom. My boss was an old married man and there was no “night duty,” so it was bearable. You see, I was far from being a sub at that time, but already easy and a little whorish…

I was taking my extra ‘duty’ with the boss as a good deal in exchange of a job where I could gain experience for the next one and a good pay. I also remember the shy girl I was took some secret pleasure in being humiliated in private. How to explain? I was mentally in pain when sexually abused by that old swine, and at the same time, not always but frequently, I was surprisingly enjoying that role. I was certainly predisposed to become the owned slut of a Master.

I stayed a year and a half in this first job then changed, finding new ones less contingent on sex. In the following years I had a wonderful time out of work, a vast stable of studs, lots of guys often surprised to discover who that quiet girl was really in the bedroom or elsewhere… and they were passing the word around. Many men came in and out of my life, so to speak, and I hardly had a steady relationship. Sadly, few of the guys I messed with really loved me. They only liked me to be easy… On the other hand I was not interested in the ones prepared to love me and to keep me for long. I must add that at that time I had no idea of what dominance and submission really was if I have always been very docile and obedient with men, the more in a bed or in any situation where sex take place. I loved to give pleasure, and I still do!

Men have this need to seek out new women. I came however across men that I believe would have been faithful to me, but for some reason those men weren’t attractive to me. They were too vanilla, too boring, not dark enough. That’s how I enjoyed a very free sexual life and was well looked after before I met Master and fell really in love for the first time in my life since the ordinary youthful romances of the average girl.

In December last year, a branch of the company I was working for was wanting a temporary (good looking) hostess/secretary for its French office in the Paris area (not in Paris, my friends, don’t ask me “How is Paris?” I am seldom if ever in the French capital!). I was to be based in France, no need to speak French as our contacts are chiefly UK or other English-speaking foreigners, and my job was supposed to resume in the UK afterwards, so I jumped on this opportunity. This is how I met Master, His business was linked to our developments in France, and the handsome middle-aged man I met in the office invited me to lunch, then to weekend with Him and friends, and my new life got started. I wrote about that.

Master looks much younger but is in fact 56. Could call Him Daddy, lol (Apologize, Master, I know I know, we will discuss that at my booty’s expense…). When I met Him, He certainly judged at once that this girl, always showing quiet obedience, would highly repay His efforts if He cared to train her properly. In His special way, He fell in love with me at the same time He seduced me.

He had progressively His way with me in a delightful mix of pleasure, pain, discipline and hard fucking. From scratch He was my Master and I was his property but we have entered gradually into a deeper relationship, of our own free will. He is capable of filling me with so much happiness and so much pain at the same time it cannot be explained, but I know you can understand so well. Master does know me very well and is an expert on how to handle me. We have an intense mental connection. He knows exactly how I need to be treated and when. He sometimes says smirking that He took a small but talented caterpillar and turned it into a beautifully behaved butterfly! I’m so flattered when He says that!

Master authorized me without difficulties to spend the week with my family provided of course I would stick to rules and also phone Him frequently. The first difficulty I met was my attire. As you know skirts, not really mini because of stockings but the shortest possible, are mandatory as well as high heels and vintage style stockings. Master is always happy to see the top welts of my stockings bordering the bottom edge of my skirt. He really enjoys when my dress rides up my thighs and to watch my embarrassment, and when I sit I am not allowed to cross my legs. On the contrary, I must keep slightly open so whoever is in front of me can peek up to my panties if I wear undies or testify I’m a girl if not. Trying to remain decent is a hopeless battle, the more if you know He buys Himself my undies, and all my panties are the next size down and transparent.

My mother has always a lot to say about my looks, but that time she was endless about my skimpy clothing and tawdry makeup. “Not only you look like a prostitute, but you know girls should consider the weather conditions and dress accordingly,” she said drily. “Where did you find that shirt which hardly hide your breasts? Why is your skirt so short? Do you really need to wear stockings with that skirt?” and later in the sitting room “Please do close your legs for Heaven’s sake, your panties are on display. Well-educated girls cross their legs, but I see you can’t because your suspenders will point out…” “If you go outside dressed so scantily it makes the risk of hypothermia greater.” Bla bla. “It is completely mad” I heard my father say.

England is all about rules and breaking them, I told mum. One large breach was to dress as a slut in our narrow provincial community, and I thought I was looking gorgeous. Men looks were proving it. A good dress can make you feel as festive as two stiff drinks. A good dress does part of the hard work for you. In my heart of hearts, I hope a great dress can declare that whatever may have gone wrong in my life, none of it has ever been my fault. My favourite dresses are ones that make me feel appealing, deadly attractive. “You look so sexy hot,” my sister cooed. ”Me?” I said. “Are you sure?”

My mother recently suggested, fluttering her hands in the vicinity of her ears, that I get just a very little trim. I feel great about my hair. I have long hair. I’m talking about long enough to brush gently on my shoulder when I tilt my head. I’m not talking about being a couple of weeks late to the hairdresser. I’m talking long. Long enough for a ponytail with swing to it. Long enough to sit against when I’m in a chair. Long enough to have to lift it up out of the sweater I’m pulling over my head. Long enough to braid. But long hair is high maintenance. Yes, I’ll admit that it is a look that requires tender loving care. It is impossible to body surf without getting seaweed tangled up in it. It is impossible to get it completely dry when one is in a rush to get to an appointment. It is impossible to forget one’s hairbrush when one travels. It is impossible to garden or weave or cook without one’s hair getting in the way. But I like it.

My mother’s favourite expression to me is “Make an Effort.” What she doesn’t understand, of course, is that just because things don’t turn out the way she thinks they should doesn’t mean an effort wasn’t made. It is incredible how parents and children never let go of old habits of relating. My mother still makes me feel like a 15-year-old. However, that no longer feels like a bad thing, if you see what I mean.

Apart from all that, I am having wonderful times with my sister and my sister in law. We have endless talks about what might have been but didn't happen in 2010, or wonderful silly giggles sessions, real schoolgirls, when the parents and the boys are not there, about girlie subject matters, dresses, or sex, for instance wondering whether penis girth was mattering more than length (I explained how Master stretches my walls past their limits and sister in law stated our brother was hung like a horse, what we were aware of…), or Sara (my sister) asking me “Alex, do you think it's weird, but I really really enjoy going down on a guy…”

In terms of cocks, I have had many, and I must say dick size doesn't matter as much as how I am getting it. Some guys with thick long ones have left me counting cracks on the ceiling, some have made my ovaries pop out of my eyes... Some smaller guys have done other stimulating sexually gratifying things that I actually came a million times over, and others not so much. For me I don't care what size a guy is as long as he pulls my hair, licks my pussy like it is his last, and fucks me like a whore, spanks my ass like a naughty little girl, lets me squirt my juice in his mouth, and leaves his dickprint in my pussy for at least 3 days after.

Let’s stop dreaming. My stomach is slowly adjusting to the excesses of the season, a diet is in the cards and Master will punish me for what I have put on… While writing, music of my cell phone interrupted my thoughts. Master is back.

He is the devil. He’s giving me a task that will not be easy to perform. He knows it of course, and that is the reason why He’s giving it. I must here, in this city before I leave, give a head to a man I know, not a stranger, somebody who knows who I am, and without allowing him to fuck any of my other holes. Only a few days left to brush up the strategy and do what I am ordered to. I note it will be the first time I will be whoring away without Master watching. I’ll write about it when it’s over but first I must find the way without creating a big scandal. My sister would understand, I’m sure, but I’m not that confident with my brother not to speak of my parents.

I’ll be soon back to tell you how it went. Be good. With my love.


Alexia

Friday, 24 December 2010

Training and submission

“Hey Alexia, great to see you blogging again”  “Welcome back!” … So sweet of you! Thanks to mollysdailykiss and to K & J for their kind and interesting comments on my last entry. Do read what they wrote.

Now back to my confession pad. Nice to look, pleasant to fuck: that’s how Master wants my body to be. My face is my face, and up there it’s less a question of exercise than proper make up, creams, skincare, treatments, hair doing etc. It takes up a hell of my time and of my money (or Master’s), but I’ll write about that later on as I don’t think guys will find it very interesting (if you girls are interested and wish to know my tips, let me know…). How to dress is also another story. I have rules and a dress protocol, but I’ll tell you about another day. No, it’s about my body. I must keep everything in good order.

Tasks given by Master: exercise for 20/30 minutes every morning, and sometimes in the evening, in front of Him and following His orders, with nothing else except stockings and garter belt (always! That’s the little add-on He wants for His pleasure). To start with, my body is His property, and He warns me quite seriously that He doesn’t care so much about what I do with what I own (if I own something… That remains to be discussed) but He does care, significantly, about what He owns. And my body is His, so I must take a great care of it. Not of me, my friends, of it.

Weight is carefully watched, 110 is the limit over which diet is mandatory. Then, exercise, forms of exercise that increases flexibility, muscle definition, endurance, and mental clarity. It is gym, but also slave training. For that Master mixes the physical movements, for example Marines-style push-ups (the body must me straight when up, punishment being my ass whipped with His much talked-about horse crop), or on my back with my legs lifted and butt in the air, or – I hate it! – I stand with my back against a wall, legs together, I move my feet about 14 to 18 inches away from the wall then slide my back down the wall as if I was sitting down in an invisible chair. My thighs must be parallel to the floor, my knees bent at a 90-degree angle. If not perfect, the crop is on my boobs. Then Master places a towel between my knees, I must squeeze and hold it for as long as He feels like it. At the beginning, my legs started to shake after 30 seconds, now I can hold it much longer. If I am not doing my exercises properly in His opinion, weighted nipple clamps are added to the crop to help me to behave.

All these exercises together with whipping are made to develop my body and my flexibility, and at the same time increase my endurance and my submission. Through discipline and punishment, I learn to behave and do what I am told without debate, and this daily task is an important bit of my training. Indeed it is important for me to be of a healthy and sound mind and body, free as possible of any personal limitations, when pleasing my Master. I also train during these sessions to take to the best of my abilities all the positions my Master taught me so to be prepared to take such positions when required and to display myself in a manner through them that He, and others who may be present, will find most pleasing.

After the limbering up exercises, slave style, the holes training comes. “Now, the cockports,” Master says. In fact my asshole is the main target. My mouth is now perfectly trained to suck any cock any way, and bj training is preferably done during specific sessions, my hands tied in my back, the exercise being more on sucking perfectly without hands, moving wholly chest and shoulders. As for my cunt, the size of my vagina is up to par (so Master says), that is deep and not too tight but enough to squeeze nicely a big cock breaking in. Master cock is girthy, he stretches my walls to the limit but He loves it and on my side I crave for it. So the exercise there is more on how to open my legs wider, move nicely and ‘whorishly’ belly and hips, etc. I believe (or hope) every woman knows very early in her life how to do it, at least it is my experience, so my training is more about improving my sluttish behaviour and what whorish manners can increase the sexual excitement of Master (or another guy) doing me.

No, my hole craving to be trained and which always needs it is my ass.

Master has provided me all sorts of plugs to give me pleasure and prepare my hole for His and other’s use. They must be inserted deeply into my ass any time Master directs it, and that composes the main hole training at the end of my exercise session. It’s ass training, but it is also a sluttish game to please Master.

Master gazing at me, crop in hand, I suck the buttplug to get it very wet, then snatch it out of my mouth and run the end over my clit and slowly drag it over my pussy to separate my lips, next I slide it into my pussy and get it nice and lubed, then slowly drag it out of my pussy and rest it against my bum hole. Slowly I feel the pressure rise as I slide it in. I feel the head go past the first ring then the second and then finally plop snugly into place.

I gently turn it round a few time and half pull it out and slide it back in several times. Next I reach back into the bag and get the next buttplug out. This one is about 4.5” long and 2” at its widest and jet-black. I start by rubbing it over my nipples, rest it between my breast so I can feel the size and next I tease and lick it with the end of my tongue. Master watches me squirming with the existing butt plug sticking out of my ass. When I've had enough I take it in my mouth where I suck and lick it like a starving child. It is dripping with my spit and I rub it over my clit and pussy again to get it even more dripping. Next I grab the first plug and pull it out in one pull. It plops out and Master sees my butthole stay open for a few seconds before clamping shut.

The next plug is really going to stretch me. I place the end against my asshole and feel it open to the size of the last plug easily but then it stops and I have to push it in. I feel it stretch. After about 30 seconds I slide in another inch, and so on. Master watches carefully my anus hugging the plug. His cock is hard, I can see it through His pants. I also see in the mirror how much has still got to get through my tight ass before it will shrink round the thinner bit. The pain is exquisite. I push slowly but constantly and finally when the resistance makes me think it won't go in, it plops in and my ass sucks up the thin bit until it is clamped in. Master is pleased to see my hole stretched round the plug with the outer ring slightly puckered up around. Sometimes, when He feels like it, Master does the job Himself.

I've been playing anally for a while now with my toys, and I have also smaller good plugs that I can wear all day and know its there without being too uncomfortable. I am enjoying wearing it very much, just hate the mess!

The main reward of my ass training is I am now ready at all time for any unsolicited anal fuck.


Alexia

Monday, 20 December 2010

I'm back...



First and foremost (…yes, Sir, I know I’m a bad girl, I must confess my laziness, I’m doing it now) I must apologize publicly and humbly request my readers to forgive me. I have not written for awhile. Admittedly I have been very busy in November and early December, they were circuitous issues about my job (this is not fixed yet…), and serving Master was more than ever a full time occupation on top of it. I’m not complaining, far from it, Master is the blessing of my life, He made me discover D/s and realize I was born to serve, but I found no time lately to be up to my task of exposing my slutty life to everyone.

Part of the dynamic between Master and me is how He exploits my shyness. He made me discover the intense pleasures of humiliation, and one of my many tasks is to expose myself and to document my life as his depraved, submissive whore. I am his property, I don't decide, but luckily he conceded this time that aside of some laziness from my side He could accept a fair share of the responsibility for my silence. Thank you for that, Sir.

Master knows so well He is not always helping and giving me time to write. Is it a game? Today for instance, when I started to write this, He came and stand in front of the sofa I was sitting on and asked abruptly “Do you want to cum for me Slut?” “Yes Sir, I always do.” “So why are you sitting there with your legs so tightly closed then? Come now, slut, open them for me.” I put my laptop on the sofa, pulled my skirt up and parted my legs apart as far as possible to make Him see my nude body submitting for Him. I had my usual tiny see-through panties on but didn’t move to take the filmy material off, as I know He likes me in the circumstances to wet my undies and keep them on soaked. Actually I was wet (Master always makes me moist instantly), my panties were showing it up…

“Such a good slut. Now rub your pussy for me.” His words excited me even more if it was possible and my fingers trailed down under my panties and across my waxed girly bits, and delved between my delicate folds into my opening. It was already dripping wetness and I drew the sticky moisture back up over my pussy and coated my throbbing clit with it.

“Good slut,” He growled at me “Now make yourself cum for me.” I pushed down harder on my clit and rolled it around and around with my finger, the sensations within my pelvis already building, but I was empty and my pussy was throbbing to be filled… “Please Sir may I take my panties off, please touch me!” Master frowned and slapped my face “I told you to cum and nothing else. Since when do sluts have a say? Don’t make me say it again!” As He shifted and moved between my thighs I closed my eyes briefly, His gaze felt hot on me and the level of His scrutiny was almost unbearable. I worked my cunt faster and my finger pushed down firmly onto my now fully engorged clit but that final fulfilment still seemed to elude me, my mind was filled with thoughts of His touch and my body was holding back.

Suddenly I felt His breath on my thigh and heard Him breathe in deeply through his nose. “Aahhhh the scent of you pleases me, now cum for me.” My eyes snapped open when I heard these words and I while looking down, seeing his face so close to me, I had instantly a real orgasm.

While I was sort of trying to gather my wits, He went out of the room saying, “Well done slut, now get on with your blog.” I knew I had to keep my ruined panties on, and I simply took my laptop without even trying to get my skirt right in place in case He would come back. What did I want to write? Yes, about submission. Not having a choice to do what you want, as well as what you do not want to do: we’re there, He really owns me.

You must know that Master doesn’t check my posts in advance, He simply reads them when they are published, as He knows that’s how I feel free to write my true reflections. In addition he can get a better perception of my true self that way. We often talk about my blogposts. That’s good to progress.

Now, how far would I go to please Him? Pretty far, I gave enough evidence of it. For sure I want some pleasure, but I am more than willing to do things that I would not consider pleasurable if it brought pleasure to my Dom. I think that I have generously proved my ability to buck up and do what I am told to, as you can see in my previous posts. In addition, I certainly let it go well beyond good for my immediate well being in a scene. I can get to the point where I really don't care, where I just want to feel the intense experience and the idea of stopping simply no longer exists.

It always surprises me to see how Master understands me so perfectly well. He sees inside me, my darkest fears, my darkest desires and somehow blends the two. To highlight an important step forward in my life, He knew before I did that I would find such an intense pleasure to be forced, degraded and publicly humiliated. In my previous life, I used to fantasize about being raped, or forced in a gangbang, or coerced into prostitution. The disturbing idea is my recent finding that I am definitely enjoying sex in those sorts of situations, when I am forced and ill-treated. Vanilla fuck is not for me anymore. Mentally, I find a little disturbing to note I am in fact a whore, but I must admit I am.

If you wonder why I accept to be shared and to pleasure men (or women sometimes) when Master orders me to, it means you are not a sub or, if you are, that you have not yet experienced the awesome payoff, the very intense rush, of being treated as a filthy slut, a total cum dumpster as my users happen to call me. Together with my own pleasure of being the slut every man wants to fuck, and of being taken thoughtlessly, I also realized that the guys – at least the ones who used me – were stimulated because they were not required to hold back and their climax was higher as they were not making love but merely ‘servicing’ me.

As you know from my previous posts, I was full of fear and it was not easy at the early times. It gets easier as you accept it and it becomes the norm, easier every day. All I can say to me is: take it day by day, and try and enjoy each little thing. Take pleasures when and where you can, keep your submissive feelings in your mind – and, as hard as it may be sometimes, try to accept your role mentally, constantly... remind yourself.

Master will reinforce it constantly, I know, through a variety of actions that will help my progress as a sex slave.

Now that I'm back to my task of telling you all, I will write more about these actions. Very soon.

Hugs


Alexia