i have a confession.
At 6 a.m. Saturday, when i woke up, the very first thing i did was turn on my computer.
Even before my morning pee.
Before i was dressed.
Before i had my glasses on.
Booted my little lap top up and tapped my foot with impatience. Okay, and coz i needed to pee really, really badly.
Finally it’s done doing its start-up shit, and quickly i type in my blog addy.
There is my confession.
Me, who rarely cares about shit like this…could hardly wait to see if i’d “rolled over” during the night.
i read a few replies to several of my older stories, and dashed off to the bathroom.
First thing i did when i got back to my room? Put on my socks. *laughs*
It’s friggin’ cold in my room, yanno. No heat in there and it was snowing.
No. It wasn’t snowing in my room.
i forget what they call those dangling misnomer sentences…other than funny! Likely Donna knows, right?
Anyway, in the short time i was away….
i got dressed and headed downstairs. Saturday a.m. and i was the only person up at 6 frikking a.m. So i made muffins, and my tea, and came in to sit at my computer and read a bit.
Came back here and whaddaya know…
i wish i could do fancy graphics etcetera, but i cannot. i can drop this in here: …some currency from the country of Georgia. Not the state of Georgia. That pretty much sums up my technology. Go ahead and close your eyes at the end of this sentence and imagine fireworks going off behind those numbers.
*laughing* Don’tcha just LOVE fireworks? And with the pretend ones, you get to see your favorite colors and everything!
Okay, so enough bragging. And i am bragging. After all, a person doesn’t hit a quarter of a million blog hits everyday. But now, it’s time for bragging to be done, and get back to why you all come here in the first place, right?!!
No story today, but a few things to share.
Saturday at work, Master and i were talking as i was doing stuff. We were talking about
The. Big. Game.
Championship on the line, and these are the steps that lead to the Big Dance. The Superbowl. And i’m all kinds of pumped since i’ll get to see almost all of the game. As will He.
Last week, you may remember that i got Him to agree to grant me 10% of the Pat’s total scoring points as orgasms.
You should know He’s been ragging on me all week. Ya’ll know i suck at math. Or if you didn’t before, you do now. He kept saying i should have asked for more and let Him push me down to a lower level. But i…as i said last week….lowballed it because i *knew* it was going to be a high-point game, and i also knew there was NO. Fucking. WAY. that my Master would have given me 50% or even 25% of the points as orgasms.
At least…i think i know that.
He keeps pointing out that i didn’t ask Him, so i can’t really know for sure, and too fucking bad. So mean!!
This week, before i could even ask about converting points to orgasms, He says…
nilla, you best hope the Pat’s win. Your entire orgasms for the week will be decided by that outcome. They lose…you lose.
EEEP!! So unfair! It’s not like i can go out there and scream at Brady…
throw that FUCKING ball, man, my ORGASMS are at stake here!!
But it is the Dom’s way…and who knows…when we win…and make no mistake that i believe whole-heartedly that this will be a huge, hard-fought, and eventually won game by my beloved Patriots….perhaps the Big Mean Dom will give me a giant amount of orgasms in His jubilant state.
Hey, a slut can dream, people!
Speaking of dreams.
Friday night Master and nilla had phone sex. Yeah, yeah, ya’ll know that FNF is a staple in our staying connected to each other when we cannot be together.
This night was a bit different.
He was going to tell me “a little tale.”
I imagined a fantasy. He’s done it before. One i don’t think i have shared here about toll-takers. And a few others.
The Master is talking about His week; last week was busy and He was traveling. He drove south, and attended to business.
“And what else do you think I was doing?” He asks me.
i think to myself…geeze…..how the fuck do i know? By now, i am masturbating, lost in the sensations floating through me, as i listen to His honey-rich voice carrying me off into the throes of intense pleasure.
“hmmmmm…” i stall for time.
“nilla.” His voice firms and i really try to come up with something.
“You went to your favorite restaurant?”
“Wrong state, nilla.” Then He laughs. “Only you could lose an entire state, nilla.”
Hey, i’m usually great with geography. But i was masturbating, yanno?
“went to the casino?”
“no, no, no, nothing like that.”
He won’t give me a clue. i’m rolling over possibilities.
“Master,” i say at last, having abandoned my pussy for the nonce, “i’m afraid i have no clue.”
“I was interviewing a Dom.”
my lips are moving but no sound goes out them. i’m guessing i resembled a carp pulled onto land. Trying to suck in air and nothing is happening.
“oh nilla” He says.
i’m stuttering and making zero sense. i am pretty sure He was thrilled to have stunned me.
He sat with a Dom friend and a slut, and watched the Dom pull a scene with her. Watched him facefuck and slap her around. Watched them fucking. Watched him spank her, beat her tits.
He wasn’t terribly impressed.
He said (and this still makes me laugh) that he told the guy he (Master) hits his teddy bear harder.
and He certainly hits His slut (that would be me!) harder.
He and i are exploring the depths of pain that i can tolerate. That i crave. That feed my kink and His. And this Dom didn’t quite measure up.
We’ve spoken honestly and deeply about what happens with U/us if this happens. And i learned a few things.
That it will feed His kink. That it will be something that will serve both of us well, and not be something that would bother Him later. i worry about that because i know He is a jealous Master. Apparently, if and when it happens…it will be okay for Him.
If and when it ever happens…it will be okay…for us both.
This is, to me, the BEST part of being kinky. That we could talk about it, work through potential hazards, and deal with them before we ever cross a line that should not have been crossed.
By the time Master was done telling me all of this, i was having a screaming orgasm. Okay, i wasn’t screaming but i was whimpering, and cumming so hard….
The fantasy of being used by another is very strong in me, as i honestly believe it is in most, if not all subs.
The reality of it is that…i have no idea what the reality of this will be like.
i want to make Him happy. i want to feed my Master’s kink for control. i want to be the best submissive slut i can be for him. But as long as i know that Master and i are good, that i am serving HIM when and if i serve another Dom….then i’m okay with it.
i’m better than okay with it.
It is what i am all about…making Him happy.
He says i do make Him happy…
…and there are times when He pushes past my comfort zone…
and we move into His full-on Domination.
When that happens, i am intoxicated with the submission of serving Him.
Whether it is spanking me through that comfort zone, or taking my ass when i’m uncertain, or getting facefucked by a “Guest Dom”…
No matter what He chooses to push the envelope with…feeds me. There is nothing i love more than Him being my Dom, my Master, and making me submit to Him. Not just the submission that i offer to Him…but the submission that He takes from me.
He walks that line beautifully. Balanced, caring, careful and sadistic.