Blue moon, blue me

I have no idea what’s up my butt tonight. I’m tired, and hot which is never a good combo.

I wrote a really raw orgasm report this morning, and I want to share it…but to be honest? I don’t even know if He’s read it. I don’t want to share it here if He hasn’t approved it yet. Maybe by the weekend…maybe not.

He’s super busy. A whole buncha early morning meetings, which means a lot of late evening work at home to prepare.

And He gives me tons of time.

So…not complaining. More like …whining a bit.

it’s hoooooot. And i hate that…. and i’m tired of my house being a cluttered, half-demolition site. And and and.

So I read Ms. Constance’s recent post here on being different. I’ve responded to that post, and it engendered a lot of thinking in my head. Thinking that dovetails what I wrote to Him this morning.

About my side of the coin. You know, the sub-side.

Coz let’s face it. Dom’s/Dommes…they don’t have it easy. They have to shoulder a lot of responsibility. And I can nod, and say “sure they do have a difficult path” but ….they also really like that path. They LIKE taking charge. Maybe not 100 per cent of the time…but really, who does?

But those of us who are submissive in nature? That’s not an easy road either.

Take my half-o’s (please! I know, an old joke.) for example.

Wednesday night I was verrrry horny. And I got an O! and a half (pout)…

and as I lay there, fastening on my nipple clamps AFTER the orgasm….and shoving the butt plug up my ass AFTER the orgasm…and digging out my vibe AFTER the orgasm…

I began to dread it.

Oh, I was horny. And wet. And craving the touch on my sensitive flesh. I love having multiple orgasms most of the time.

But this time I was instructed to “make it good”…which really means “make it bad”.

And as I lay there, thinking “can I do this? Sure I can, it’s for Master…” I got thinking about how frikking hard it is to be the submissive sometimes. I’m a masochist. I like pain. Even when I whimper and cry and moan and gasp when He hits me, or pinches the fuck out of my tummy or arms …. I like the pain.

I crave the pain.

And I knew then that I would obey. Even as I knew I would struggle with obedience. I would wrestle with the idea of cumming. I would fight the urge to ignore His wishes, and set my pussy free….

I was a good girl.

I was obedient.

He wasn’t here. He’d never know (though we both know that’s not true, don’t we? I tattle on myself whenever I fuck up) that I fell over the edge. I’m a creative writer after all…I could write something convincing….


not to Him.

He’d see through it. He’d see through me. And that’s just not what we…what this lifestyle  is about. Total honesty must be the guiding force between us, or all else will dissolve. It won’t matter.

And to me, it matters.

He holds my life in those strong and capable hands.

And my heart.

Instead of sailing over the edge of the cliff, and saying “fuck it…”

I swore at Him. (in absentia, there’s safety there, don’t chaknow?!)

I tossed my head, curled my toes, kicked my feet, railed and cried and whined.

But I did NOT cum.

Does that make me daft?


It also makes me an obedient, owned, submissive slut, who understands where my sex is held. Who understands who gets the say about orgasms, butt plugs, nipple clamps and vibes.

I’m not self-maintained anymore.

I’ve got Him there, doing that dominant thing, holding me in His hands.

No orgasm on earth is worth fucking that up.