Missing Him

The truth is, we spend very little time together. It’s the nature of any LDR, I know. And the fact that we get to spend any time on a regular basis, together? That’s a bonus, isn’t it?


But this weekend He is away, about 300 miles (482 kilometers) away, and there is zero chance of seeing Him other than if He remembers to send me the picture of Himself in a tux as I have begged Him for. Yes, I’m a greedy wench. ūüôā

I mean really? He makes me all drooly when He’s wearing a sweatshirt. The few occasions I’ve seen Him in a suit, I’ve gone all gooey (yes, even¬†that way!). In a tux? I’m sure I’ll be a melted puddle of slut. The Man turns me on, peeps.

But He’s away.

And though we are still in touch via texting…I am missing the holy fuck outta Him.


Until next weekend, I guess I will sit and stare at this picture of my Master, in His crisp shirt and tie…and drool a little bit.


Imperfectly Perfect

I don’t believe in perfection. I know, I’ve written that before. I saw a thing on Facebook this morning that got me thinking about this. About how we chase that fantasy, going all gung-ho and striving for the impossible dream of being “perfect”. Which got me to thinking (I know, always so dangerous, right?) even more about the myth of perfection (and how it pertains to my D/s world).

I don’t even believe that perfection is attainable–because what IS perfect? It is ¬†a variable that it defies definition. ¬†I used to say “I’m the best me there is and every day I get a little better at it” but I’ve come to understand even that isn’t true. Some days I wake up in fine fettle, ready to take on the world, write the best story ever, yada yada….and some days I wake up grumpier than shit, ready to bite the first person who crosses my path. And on still other days, I wake up feeling at peace, and wind up in a tussle with the kids, or a problem with the spouse, or a busted water heater and I feel just……. defeated. Who can be feeling that *this* is a “better” today than the previous day? These are things that are not in my control. And yes, I can and will work on my responses to them…but hello. Human. We ALL react to things in ways we don’t always like in retrospect.

So these days I’m just taking each day as it comes, reveling in the fact that this–these small details–ARE what life is about.

D/s is like that for me. I’m NOT always a perfect, moderate, good little girl. Some days I’m crabby, or snappy, or sassy. He doesn’t care about that, really. He’ll dig to find out why I’m in a mood if it persists, and help me work through it. But He doesn’t punish me when things aren’t going right, either. He understands that we’re both human, and it’s part of the ride that we’re on. I love that about Him, ¬†that He can see (or dig) to the root of the issue, and I’m not in trouble for not being His perfect little slut. I don’t need punishment when things are not going right, I need His guidance to help make it better. If He went at me with a heavy hand (metaphorically rather than physically) He would damage me, and my faith in Him would waver, and fall apart. This flies in the face of most D/s relationships, I know.

We’re not together 24/7, I’m not His live-in whore, He’s not my Daddy, nor my husband. Most times I *do* treat Him with respect, but I’ve been known to throw an occasional rare “fuck you Master” into the mix. This has happened less and less as we settle into our 5th year as a D/s couple. As a side note, He *loves* it when, during playtime, I growl “fuck YOU, Master” ¬†after He’s hit me exceptionally hard. In fact, He laughs. What can I say? We’re a perverse bunch, right? ūüôā

I read of ¬†couples younger¬†than Master and I, who want to “get it right”. I want to jump up and down and shout “you know…there isn’t One True Way”…but I think everyone has to discover that for themselves. ¬†What works for one won’t work for another. I suspect that, even if Master and I did live together, vanilla would be 90% of our day-to-day, with 10% of D/s as spice. Even now when we hang out together it hovers around that ratio. I’m good with it. He’s good with it. Because over and around everything else?

I know He is the Boss.

There is not one iota of doubt of that, when I’ve occasionally crossed too far over the line with Him–it only takes that one raised brow for me to drop my eyes and fall into submissive mode and utter a quick apology. It’s a thread that braids into our relationship.

So, I’m not perfect.

Neither is He.

I’m not preachin’ here–you can go off and strive to be that “perfect slave”, or the “perfect submissive”. You can live your Gorian fantasy and be perfectly happy doing so. He is okay with me being imperfectly perfect for Him…and that makes my imperfectly submissive heart go all pitty patter.

Here’s the illustration that got me going on this tangent today:




Yes, you don’t have to give 100% to everything. You can give it your best today. Which might be less than yesterday, and could be more than tomorrow–and guess what?

You’ll still be okay.

And if you don’t believe me, maybe you’ll believe Pink.¬†


HNT- Painterly

More fun with the phone. Who knew they could be so entertaining? You’ll be treated (tormented?) with lots of pix in the future as I work my way through the various settings…this one is a “Paint” type overlay, with high color contrast and the texture of “canvas”…Happy HNT!


Still Here– Really!

Not much sexy stuff happening, tho there was a wee bit of pinchy pinchy with Master on Sunday evening…

And my vanilla world has once more expanded to take over all parts of my life…

And it’s Spring in New England and there are sprouts and sunny blue skies and almost all snow piles melted…and it’s alllll good.

And I hope to not be a stranger on my own blog for much longer…

The Predicament

She arched, inner muscles clenching around the dildo vibrating in the deep places of her cunt. The sudden curving of her spine pressed her clit hard against the vibrator that had been barely touching a moment ago, adding a layer of intensity to the paroxysms of her pussy.

“Quite a quandary you have there, little whore.”

His voice was amused and pleased. She could hear him moving around her, though her eyes were closed.  He did admire his own handiwork, she thought with a frown. Her clit screamed, the motions of the big vibe now too intense as orgasm approached.

Her arms were tied tightly over her head, stretching her. Her legs were spread, cuffed to a spreader bar that didn’t allow for any shifting movement. A swatch of thick duct tape passed from thigh to thigh holding a thick dildo inside her dripping pussy. In front of her a breath away from her breasts was a thin ¬†metal bar, held by the stand that also supported the heavy-duty vibrator that barely touched her slit, and her swollen, protuberant clit. From the ends of the bar were cables, attached to a car battery. Her nipples were wet with the gel that would conduct the jolt of electrical current, should she arch sufficiently to make contact. ¬†And behind her, another dildo, speared on a long pole, was buried in her ass. A thick rubber footing was affixed to the end of the pole, pressing it against the floor.

“a non-skid ass plug” He’d said, laughing¬†at his double entendre¬†as he’d speared her butt, ¬†propping the stick behind her. It was a strong incentive to not fall over, not that she would go far, hung by her wrists as she was. ¬†In its own strange way, it stabilized her.

“Ohhhnooooo!” she yelped, her back straightening. This motion pressed the wide rumbly part of the dildo just below her g-spot as the bulbous head ground against her cervix. It hurt and felt o-so-pleasurable at the same damn time. The thickness in her ass sent quivers to all those nerve endings, adding to the pleasure mix.

The orgasm tore through her, controlling her body, raising her breasts as her entire body arced. Tight as a drawn bow, the convulsions of her climax tugged the last reins of control from her.

Sweat beaded her brow, her chest. Her nipples rose as her body shuddered through the sensation tsunami and pressed against the electrified metal plate which had been placed just so precisely. The quick hit of pain on her nipples intensified the orgasm, pressed her pussy hard upon the outer vibe. She screamed as sensation overwhelmed.

His hand pressed against her forehead, pushing hair from her cheeks.

“such a mess you are,” his voice crooned. “don’t block daddy’s view. He wants to see it all, all the suffering. Pain wrapped with passion, my whore.¬†And we both know how much you enjoy your passions, don’t we, you greedy little bitch?”

Panting, she fell back as the tension released. The big vibe inside buzzed on, her nipples crinkled in response. She could feel the intensity building again, faster this time. Moans, which were really whimpers, escaped her lips, though she’d vowed to not make a sound as she served his punishment. He’d merely smiled at her show of bravado. He’d known she couldn’t stop the sounds of sex as the pleasure and the torment wracked her body.

Damn him for being right again.

And damn her for thinking she could trick him. She would never steal an orgasm from Him again.

HNT–Full-faced nilla

Master has this picture of me that He enjoys looking at…and He has graciously allowed me to post it for HNT.

Of course, there has to be tits, you know, because Master is a tit guy and it is His rule that Thursday is Tit Day…

in fact, looking at that acronym up there, HNT, which used to stand for Half-Nekkid Thursday, I feel it has now morphed into my own personal acronym….. Happy Nilla Tit day!

I’ve been having a ton of fun at night playing with the camera options on my phone. I am *supposed* to be sleeping but sometimes I have trouble getting there, so I whip out my phone, text Master, take tit-selfies, and then play with effects. This is one of those pictures that I took when I was trying to find the perfect shot for Master (admit it — when you take selfies, you take a bunch of shots, and only post the best one to your blog or facebook, right?!) and it turned out to NOT be one that I wanted to send to Him. It did, however, present a challenge to make it better to see if I could make it a HNT picture that Master would enjoy here.


moodyHe has yet to weigh in as I type this — and of course I’m late posting this since I’ve been actually parking my carcass in bed earlier each night..which has cut into my writing and posting time….

Sometimes I think I have entirely too much fun playing with that phone. Learning to manage a new electronic device takes me some time…and now that I have the apps I enjoy and this newly discovered camera effects to play with, it’s amazing I close my eyes at all. (Just kidding, Master.)

Okay, so you’ve hung in here like the good reader you are…time for the big reveal…


are you ready?









…and it’s…..Full Faced Nilla