As I mentioned in a previous post, I'd hoped to get Richard drunk on daquiris and seduce him Tuesday night. To no avail. A few minutes after posting my wicked plans, I passed out face down on the couch. Honestly, he must have slipped something into my drink because no way do I get drunk that easily. Or maybe the long day had weakened my tolerance...

I woke up to the dog barking. Richard came over because I was so confused and gently helped me up. I couldn't figure out what time or day it was. He finally managed to get me upstairs, where I proceeded to fall face first on the bed.

He took off my clothes and tucked me into bed.

I woke up in the morning feeling fine. We sleep in spoons, with my ass in his lap and his arms around me, holding my wrists in his hands. I wiggled around and snuggled up under his arm. He pulled me closer.

I started kissing his neck and nibbling on his chest and shoulders. He squeezed me tighter but didn't open his eyes.

I rubbed my chest against his. This usually works to wake him up. Today he just caressed me lightly for a moment then fell back asleep.

I flipped over and wiggled my ass against his belly. That woke him up.

"What are you doing, little girl?" he said groggily.

I giggled. He grabbed me by the hip and pulled me closer. I ground into him.

He groaned and buried his face in my hair. I could feel him nuzzling the back of my neck. His hand reached around to my breasts. He caressed them gently then began playing with my nipples.

But after a couple of minutes he fell back asleep!

This was challenging. I really needed him to fuck me. After a couple of minutes of fruitlessly rubbing and wiggling and snuggling, I knew that I had to do something more.

"Would you please spank me?"

"What?"

"Please spank me Richard. I really need a spanking."

"Really? You WANT a spanking?"

"Yes please."

He was wide awake.

"Roll over."

"Yes sir."

I rolled over. Then I got nervous.

"I don't need a HARD spanking. Just a LITTLE spanking is fine."

"Oh really."

He began smacking my bottom, moving from side to side.

"Oh! Yes, just a little. Oh!"

"You want to decide how much spanking you get?"

He smacked a bit harder, and then he stayed in one place for a few smacks. That hurts worse.

I didn't want to answer that question. Yes, of course I want to decide. But if I say that, will I get in more trouble? Probably. I kept quiet. Well, except for the inadvertent squeaks when he smacked me particularly hard.

But then he stopped and rolled me over and looked into my eyes.

"I like spanking you."

"Yes." (I know that, that's why I asked him to spank me. I was hoping it would get me laid.)

He reached out, took my hand and placed it on his cock. His hard cock.

"I really like spanking you."

"Ooooohhhh."

And then, before I had time to think, he flipped me back onto my belly, hauled my ass into the air and slammed his cock into me. And it just got better from there.

So I did seduce him, eventually. No thanks to the daquiris.

Richard has discussed in an earlier post his interest in MMF threesomes, and his decision NOT to pursue them in our relationship. His decision was based on my very clear, very loud concerns about them (basically having to do with the potential physical and emotional dangers of bringing another man into the relationship), which led him to feel that it would be psychologically harmful to me to pursue them.

Mia, who posts here sometimes and has a great blog "What We Did Last Night", posted about a MMF threesome she had recently (May 13: double trouble ). I loved her post and it helped me to understand what Richard meant when he talked about what turned him on about them: the woman's over-stimulation and loss of self-control.

And for him, it is the ultimate sign of ownership, to share what is yours with another.

Amy - owned by Richard
I have always been monogamous. I think maybe I fall in love with anyone I fuck. I actually read something recently that supported that idea; oxytocin levels rise after fucking, oxytocin is a "bonding" hormone (grossly oversimplified), I figure I probably have the world's highest naturally occurring levels of oxytocin. I am so completely focused on Richard that it is hard to imagine being attracted to another man, much less fucking him! And fucking him while Richard watches! Or joins in! Ack!

However, I've been thinking about threesomes a lot lately, because I know how erotic Richard finds them. I think maybe they are his biggest turn-on. I wonder if maybe I feel secure enough in our relationship to try this. It scares me, but maybe being scared can be part of the eroticism, like it is with being blindfolded or handcuffed. I really don't know.

Richard says that every fantasy he has acted out/lived has turned out much better than he expected. I've always felt that fantasies are just that, and don't need to be lived to be enjoyed. But now I'm living a life that I didn't even know enough to fantasize about, and it's WONDERFUL. So maybe this would be the same.

After we had been talking online for about a month, Richard sent me the following short-short story. (I had to dig and dig through my email to find it. I LOVE reading our old emails. The yearning!) I found the story very hot, but didn't seriously consider it as something that could or would ever happen. I still find it hot...

Answering Richard's call, Amy entered the room.

A man she didn’t recognize stood talking to Richard.

“Stand here,” Richard said. Then to the man, “show me what you meant.”

Amy, barefoot in a delicate t-shirt and sarong, waited as the stranger deftly untied the sarong, letting it drop to the floor.

Naked from the waist down, Amy stood shyly as the man used her lower body to illustrate some complex tattoo he had once seen, turning Amy around once to show exactly how it had risen over someone’s buttocks.

The demonstration over, Amy waited quietly.

“Beautiful woman,” said the man, almost as an afterthought.

“Yes she is,” answered Richard. “Listen, why don’t you stay for dinner?” With a nod indicating Amy, “We can sit up later with whiskey, and take turns fucking her by the fire.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

Richard turned to Amy.

“One more for dinner.”

Ah yes, Amy did mention another photo, one where she blends into the warm surroundings of the desert as naturally as a sleek skink, or other gentle creature of nature. This would be the picture she is referring to.

The small image doesn't do her justice, so I'd suggest you click the picture and see it more properly sized.

As Amy says, a woman perched on a rock. Her. And you can tell she is naked, if you look hard enough.

Indeed you can.

Wonderfully understated Amy, as always.

Ahhhh...dear sweet Amy. Within 15 minutes of her last post she was fast asleep on the couch. She did manage to refill my glass, although I ended up leaving most of it.

Anyway, she awoke a half hour later, disoriented, unsure of the time and her surroundings. I shepherded her up to bed, undressed her as she half dozed on the duvet, and settled in for the night.

Only morning would tell if she would complete her nefarious attempt at seduction, and if she would be successful.

She did.

And she was.

Shhhh. I'm trying to get Richard drunk.

We've been way too busy. And then we went out into the desert which was wonderful BUT I didn't get the hot tent sex I was hoping for.

Why? Because it was Memorial Day weekend. Doh. We could hear when the neighboring campers zipped open their tent, for goodness sake.

You may be thinking here "But wait. Wasn't she posing for nekkid pics out there?" Well yes. The campsites were completely full, but nobody seemed to go more than about 10 meters from their site. So that was not a problem.

And by the way. Richard had shown me a lovely picture, a panorama of the desert with, far in the distance, a woman perched on a rock. Me. Naked, yes, if you looked hard enough. But blending in to the natural surroundings, much like the lizard he posted below. That's what I thought he was going to share with you.

But nooooooo. I open up the blog to see what everyone has said about the desert trip (I'm becoming very attached to y'all) and I get a FACEFUL of Amy. I'm glad people liked it, but I'll admit it was a bit of a shock.

Anyway. I've made a blenderful of strawberry daquiris. I'm plying him with them. Richard didn't drink until his thirties, whereas I come from Germanic stock and so have been drinking since I was knee high to a grasshopper (as they say in Holland) (not really).

So I'm thinking that I will be able to get him drunk and take advantage of him. Maybe even tie him up? Who knows what can happen when you get a domly type tipsy (say THAT three times fast)?

I'm a teensy bit worried that he may have alternative plans however. I just noticed that his glass is quite a bit fuller than mine. Hmmmm. I'm going to log off now and refresh his drink. Wish me luck!

Amy and I packed up the gear and then took an improvised shower on the morning before we left the campsite. As we were toweling off, I spied something and said to Amy "Oh my god - there's a snake! Don't move!"

Now, I didn't want her to move because I was afraid she'd scare it away, and I wanted to get a picture of it.

Amy wasn't thinking of it the same way.

"You're safe," I added, "it's behind the rock." Then as an after thought. "It's huge!"

Amy found my words less than reassuring.

"Are you sure it's a snake?" she said.

I thought maybe I detected an edge of tension in her voice as she followed me over to the car with rather precipitous rapidity.

"Well, I'm not entirely sure, but it looked like a snake. I'll grab the camera and double check."

I did so.

"Yep, it's a snake. A big rattler."

"Are you sure? asked Amy again, knowing that I've never seen a rattlesnake in the wild before.

"Oh yeah"

Amy edges closer for a nervous look, hoping it's some innocous hognose or something "Omigod, ohmigod. Fuck. Ohmigod it's a rattlesnake! Ohmigod it's big!"

Amy is a veteran. She's run into rattlesnakes before. Amy does not like rattlesnakes.

She is not happy that I want to take pictures of it.

I take some shots as the snake sits, unmoving, in it's lair. It looks lethal, primal. Probably about three feet long, by the look of it.

We put up a sign warning the next campers to come about the snake, and tell everyone about it. There are small children everywhere, and last night I walked up this little path myself to take some shots.

We let the park Rangers know there is a rattlesnake at our site, and left with a deeper awareness of how these snakes can simply be anywhere, and you have to be on your guard at all times.



This is the west end of our campsite. After we packed up the tent, Amy and I had a quick shower using this low rock as a table to put our stuff on. You will notice a small tuft of grass along the pathway behind the rock.


This is a closer view, looking behind the low rock. Just up from the pink bit of trash (not ours) you'll see a small shape where the smooth rock meets the brush.


This gives you a better view. The dark hole is about nine inches across.



Here is the snake, up close.



And an overexposed picture of the snake, to let you see how it is coiled up in an S shape ready to strike. In the back, you can see the rattle. The snake has picked a warm location along a footpath ready to ambush something to eat, and a good sized lizard was headed in this direction a little after we took these pics. We didn't wait to see the outcome though.



This guy was about 8, 9 inches long. He was about 10 feet from the snake when we took this pic, and headed generally in the snake's direction. Would have made a good, if unwilling breakfast for the snake.

We had a great time in the desert - this is a quick look at some of the pics we shot. Lots more to tell you about, but that will have to wait till the next post!

Amy and I just checked out a workout club. We take the obligatory tour, and then we are talking after with the sales guy, and he asks me why I want to go to a club. I give the usual required answers in this sales dance, that I want to improve overall fitness, and he's lining up his ducks getting ready to sell the personal trainer package.

He's already noted that Amy and I are married, and then he asks her the same question.

"Oh," says Amy brightly. "I just want to meet guys!"

Heh heh heh.

Stopped him in his tracks.

But what a naughty girl! And after all I've tried to teach her about respecting her Master!

Anyhow, I made a comment about how I could see I needed to keep her on a short leash. He was amused, and said I should bring her in on a leash "like those S & M couples."

Indeed.

We began a brief discussion about where we could best get a leash for Amy, to her mortification.

And on the way out I gave her a swat on the ass.

Saucy minx!

We are leaving first thing in the morning to go camping! Wheee!

I've been focusing on loading our gear, planning menus and getting the house ready for us to be gone. Watering plants, setting the thermostat, etc. Plus it has to be clean because if we're in a car accident and someone has to come into the house to get stuff for us, it has to be clean, right? Otherwise it's like if you wear dirty underwear and you're in an accident and they bring you to emergency and the doctors and nurses see your dirty underwear. Ew. The stress alone could kill you.

I'm excited to show Richard this part of the desert that he's never seen. I'm excited to be in a tent with him for the first time. I'm excited to be alone with him away from cell phones and laptop computers, where nobody from the office can find me.

We're doing something in the desert that I'm not excited about though. Or I guess I'm excited, but much more nervous than excited. We're going to do a photoshoot in the desert. So I'm going to be out in the open, naked as a jaybird, posing for Richard.

I love posing for Richard. He makes me feel very beautiful when he's photographing me; he's always very complimentary and appreciative. And I can tell when he's really gotten something good from the look on his face and his tone of voice.

He's quite a perfectionist about his photography, so a session can go on for a long time. One time I just wanted one teeny little picture in my bride panties and ohmygosh you'd think I asked for a portrait of the Pope. Every angle, every room of the house, every light level you can think of. (Before I get into trouble, I will admit that this is a bit of an exaggeration. He probably photographed me for around thirty minutes. Still.)

Photographing me puts me into a bit of a submissive trance. He tells me what to do and how to move, or he simply moves me (or parts of me) himself. He's very calm and quiet, and I get very quiet (a rare event) and passive. I'm sometimes surprised that an hour or more has gone by, and I'll notice that I'm a bit achy from holding an awkward pose for an extended period.

Afterwards, when he's downloading the pictures onto the laptop and sorting through them, I'll curl up at his feet and lean against his leg. He'll put the laptop down at my level when he wants to show me a picture he's happy with or ask my opinion about one (he never posts anything that I feel is unattractive or that worries me in any way).

It's too bad we can't show our faces. I just looked across the couch at him working on his laptop and he is the most gorgeous creature! Sorry, off topic there.

I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend. Maybe I'll come back from the desert a confirmed exhibitionist.

And maybe pigs will fly.

At least I know I'll be having hot sex in a tent for the first time in my life!

OK, back to packing.

We did a photo shoot yesterday with the naughty schoolgirl skirt we got in New Orleans.
I thought this was a sexy picture of Amy getting her naughty ass spanked by me!

I don't like deleting posts.

I don't like editing much, either.

On a good day, I'll run a spell checker, because typos seriously irritate me.

But once I've thrown something out there, it's pretty much out of my mind. I'm a "fire and forget" kind of guy. Say it, get it done, move on.

And when I fuck up, which happens from time too time, with a poorly thought out or badly phrased bit of writing, I'm good with it. So I made a mistake. Big deal. If people read it and want to argue with me, fine. If the topic doesn't bore me by this point, I might pay attention. Otherwise, well I've said what I said and what I thought at the time. For those of you into horoscopes, think "Classic Sagittarius." Blunt. Off the cuff. Spontaneous.

Now, at this blog Amy and I are putting ourselves out there, as it happens. Live, sorta. We've had misunderstandings, such as the whole "Disposable Girl" situation (I should have called it "Disposable Fuck" - but then we'd have missed some interesting discussion). And a couple of times Amy has asked me if I wanted her to delete a post she had written.

Of course not.

What could is it if we only present an always polished face? It's the interplay in the relationship that makes ANY relationship interesting, including the rough and bumpy spots. And we've been trying to let you see that part of us as well. Now, I'm usually the cause of rough spots.

Anyway, if Amy says something that I don't like, or vice versa, I figure we let it stand, and discuss it. I'm not interested in deleting - much better to have it out in the open where we can discuss it. And, the discussion can be thought provoking for our readers at the very least, as well as us.

Now, with my original "The Perfect Mate," post I seriously upset Amy, which caught me off guard. I didn't see it as misrepresenting her, and thought it showed her in a good light.

She thought otherwise.

Now, I like hurting Amy. But not like this.

I don't mind Amy disagreeing with something I've said, and discussing it with her. Except, of course, she tends to have all these facts and stuff that makes it kinda tricky to win an argument with her. I'd be happy to break even on these things, and my position is "Hey! What I just expressed was an opinion, not a conclusion, so I don't NEED facts to support it."

Anyhow, while I don't mind debating something with "Amy in public, and inevitably losing, no doubt, this was different.

I'd just put out a post that she thought showed I didn't love her.

She didn't ask to have it deleted.

But I knew I must have expressed myself awkwardly, and if she thought it showed a lack of love, then someone else might as well. I wasn't comfortable with people reading a post that gave off that impression. Even if it did have some value in other parts of it. Some people liked it, there were comments, it had even been bookmarked for future reference.

But I don't like the idea of a post accidentally misrepresenting who she is, and what she means to me.

I don't like deleting posts.

But Amy comes first.

When Amy first told me "I am for you," as detailed in her "Star Trek and BDSM" post, I didn't get it.

I heard what she was saying, and she explained the concept to me, but what I missed was what she really meant by that.

I'd known too many "submissive" women before.

I'd seen them on bdsm dating sites, laying out what they were looking for in a mate, what they wanted him to do for them, what they wanted to do for him, what they wanted to do for play, etc.

Quite frankly, I didn't see them as submissive. I saw them, or at least their needs, as what would be dominant in a relationship.

I'd dabbled in Gor. But Gorean behavior had too many conceits and rules. You had to talk a certain way, behave a certain way, socialize a certain way. There were codes of behavior, codes of honor, rules for how your slave was supposed to greet people. Codes about how to capitalize a master's name, and how to lower case a slave's. Rules about how to discipline your girl, rules about how to train her, how to give her tasks to better herself, yadda yadda yadda.

Fuck that.

I'm not so much for following someone else's rules.

Before I met Amy, I did some hard looking at myself and what I wanted in my life. I'd always adapted to my partner, and made sure their needs were met, even if it meant suppressing my own. Classic enabling behavior. I came to the conclusion that I would rather have no partner, than be in a relationship where I had to change who I was for anyone else. I could see past relationships that had not worked, and I could see that changing myself and denying what I wanted would ultimately destroy that relationship.

I decided I didn't want a primary relationship.

I wasn't closed to the idea, I just figured I'd never find that perfect match, the woman who wanted what I wanted. I figured they would all come with preconceptions and needs that they would expect me to adjust myself, to compromise, to meet those needs. And I was done with that.

Now, this was an exciting realization for me. I could be totally open and free about what I liked, I didn't need to impress anyone with anything. I didn't have to be "Domly" or sensitive, or anything. I could just be myself, say what I thought when I thought it, and move forward in my life. It gave me a natural, unforced dominance that didn't depend on anyone else.

I wasn't even looking for a partner.

Then Amy came along. God. Like a tractor beam. OK, so maybe not an appropriate Star Trek analogy, but Star Wars anyway. Close enough. It's all spacey spacey themed, anyway.

Yeah, Amy attracted me, powerfully so. Smart, funny, very comfortable with herself. Not to mention gorgeous.

We IM'd, we phoned, we talked about bdsm and D/s and all sorts of topics. We both knew one thing, we didn't want 24.7 D/s. I didn't want a slave I had to micromanage, and Amy didn't want to be dominated outside the bedroom.

Or so we thought.

I'm a simple man. I wanted a woman I could throw to the ground, kick her thighs open, and fuck. I'm not much for anything elaborate. And I'm not much for routine, or rules, or protocols. Catch her, throw her down, fuck her.

Pretty simple.

I didn't want to be all focused on her needs, wondering if she is enjoying sex, if she is satisfied, if she feels good. I wanted a woman I could use. One I could force. One that could say "No", sure, but that "no," wasn't going to get a whole lot of attention. Well, none.

I didn't want a "brat," either. A woman who misbehaves to get attention.

Boring.

Nor did I want one who needed to be spanked, disciplined or hurt in anyway. I like hurting. I just want to do it when I feel like hurting her, and not when she feels like being hurt.

Amy repeated to me a few times, the "I am for you," idea.

Like an idiot, I kept blowing it off.

Then I got it.

I realized that what Amy liked was to be whatever her partner wanted. This wasn't just words, typical slavespeak, etc. This was a vanilla woman, only the slightest acquaintance with D/s, and yet she knew that sher wanted to be whatever her partner wanted. Her needs were met by meeting his needs.

Let me emphasize that.

Her needs are met by meeting his needs.

Good god.

I told Amy she was dangerous. That a man could destroy himself with a woman like that. She didn't understand that. She still doesn't. She sees herself as the most innocuous little creature. I think she's fucking dangerous.

But she spoke the truth about herself.

I use her, I make her masturbate, I force her to cum, I hurt her, I take away her air, I put hurty clampy things on her, I tie her up. I call her a slut, I ass fuck her. I do stuff that she likes, and that I like. I do stuff that she doesn't like, but that I like. I do stuff she hates and dreads, but that I like.

I use her.

And I adore her. Did I need to mention that? She gets insecure only when she thinks she isn't meeting my needs. I have no doubt she would do anything she could do for me if I asked her. She gives me absolute power. Fortunately, I am already absolutely corrupted, so no changes there.

She's a woman I didn't have to change myself for, one who loved me for what I am, Sadist, bad man, whatever it is that I am, she loves. And obeys.

Her needs are met by meeting mine.

My perfect mate.

Some of you may have seen Richard's last post before it was deleted: "The Perfect Mate". He's going to re-write it and post again later today.

I'm feeling really guilty because it's my fault that he deleted it. The last week has been very hectic and we've had the kids the whole time without our usual break and I have been feeling a bit disconnected from him. (All better after a romantic evening alone last night, a wild fuckfest this morning and then a photoshoot with the schoolgirl skirt!)

Plus we haven't been able to play hard since his surgery. I never ever would have thought that would be a problem for me because I'M NOT A MASOCHIST. (Just want to be clear on this, any evidence to the contrary lol.) But it is a problem, because it seems to create an emotional intensity that we both want. Because our relationship is still so new, when we lose that intensity for an extended period, it makes me feel a bit insecure and unsure of myself. And it seems to make Richard quieter, more withdrawn. Which then feeds back to make me more insecure. Etc.

When I read his post, which for the main part I found very, very hot, some of the things he said made me insecure. Here's the crux of it, from my only-just-moved-away-from-vanilla perspective. What's the difference between being in dysfunctional relationships in which my needs are neglected/ignored, and being in a D/s relationship in which my kink is to do/be whatever my partner wants?

I can see the difference intellectually. I can also see it in my daily life, where Richard is generally very attentive to my needs and wishes, EXCEPT when it's hot (for both of us) for him not to be. But sometimes something will spook me and I'll worry that maybe it's not different, maybe I've just managed to put a pretty face on my dysfunction (if being in a kinky relationship is a pretty face; that's probably a bit of a stretch).

Bah.

When I read Richard's post, I said "When I read this, I don't see that you love me." Then I went to bed. He came up a few minutes later and we talked about it. I felt much better. Later, I saw that he had erased the post and I felt terrible. He said that if that was the impression I got from the post, then he hadn't written it properly.

I say I have PMS, I'm worn out from a tough week professionally and personally, and I miss the deep connection to my husband and Master that I usually have. I don't want to influence his writing, especially under those circumstances.

Sorry to everybody, especially to Richard.

Amy is not an exhibitionist, but she does like a couple of pics that I have taken of her. Don't tell her, but the pic below was picked up at the May 18 edition of Sexy Mature Women Blog.

I expect she'll be flattered.

It's a commercial blog (nothing to do with us) using the publicly available pics hosted at flickr.com. We make some of the pics we use here viewable there as well, although not all of them.

We are going to do a shoot tomorrow or Tuesday night that will be fun, maybe a spanking theme, we'll see.

Did I getcha with the title? No, I'm not talking about James Kirk as submissive male.

Several years ago I saw an episode of Star Trek, Next Generation that stuck in my mind. At the time, I didn't realize why it had such an impact on me, but after I discovered BDSM and in particular D/s I understood. We had a scorching hot discussion after I first told Richard about it, on IM. I think it helped him understand me better, in those pre-meeting days. I remember not being able to sleep that night because I was so turned on. Recently I Netflixed it so that I could show him. It's not sexy per se, but the implications of it are very sexy to me.

The episode is titled "The Perfect Mate". Briefly, the Enterprise is hosting a meeting of rapprochement between two worlds. The ambassador from one world, who is picked up first, brings a precious gift for Alrik, the leader of the other world: a woman. Kamala is an empathic metamorph; a very rare mutant who has the ability to sense what men desire and mold herself to their wishes and interests. Empathic metamorphs imprint on and become the ideal mate of one man.

On the way to pick up Alrik, Kamala is accidentally brought out of stasis (blasted Ferengi!). This moves forward her development so that she is in a stage in which she is sending off strong sexual signals to all men. After a few incidents, she decides to remain in her quarters. Jean-Luc, tough guy that he is, tries to stay away from her although he is fascinated by her as well. However, they are thrown together to work on the ceremony of reconciliation and the attraction is intense. She's smart, strong and intuitive - everything he finds most attractive in a woman (naturally).

Jean-Luc manages to keep her at arm's length, but only just, and they pick up Alrik. When Jean-Luc goes to Kamala's room to bring her to the wedding ceremony, she tells him that she has completed her development prematurely and has imprinted on him, rather than on Alrik. However, her strong sense of duty (in part due to her upbringing, but also due to becoming Jean-Luc's ideal woman) means that she will marry Alrik, to maintain peace between the worlds. She will not reveal to anyone that she has already imprinted, and points out that she is still empathic, so she will still be able to make him happy.

The worst part: Jean-Luc has met Alrik, who is a homely, superficial twit unworthy of Kamala. Nevertheless, he acts as best man at the wedding and hands over his perfect mate to a lesser man.

*sob*

When Richard and I first began to spend time together online, we were flirtatious but also pretty cool. We were trying to be cautious. So we talked about kink more intellectually than emotionally and we talked about a lot of other things too (as we continue to do). However, Richard gradually moved to claim me and to exert control over me, and our relationship became closer to what it is now.

During one IM, I said "I am for you, Richard" and he asked what I meant. I hadn't thought of it when I said it, but I remembered that this was what Kamala said when she came out of stasis, thinking that Jean-Luc was Alrik: "I am for you Alrik". That was eye-opening. As we discussed it, I began to understand what it was I wanted in a relationship and what I wanted to be.

I want to be owned. By one man.

I want to be completely his.

I want to be what he wants me to be, in all ways.

I want that man to be worthy of me, and to bring out the best in me.

I want to be cherished for this, to be seen as a rare and precious gift.

And I am.

Just for fun, here's a peek at what Amy was wearing under her dress when we got married on the beach!

I want to quote part of a comment we received on the "Disposable?" post.

"I hope that you share some details of how the conversation goes, I find what you both share to be intelligent, caring and informative... This is such a real-life relationship and we appreciate your opening yourselves up the way you both do."
Jdslove

Amy didn't like the idea of being disposable.

She thinks it is hot.

She doesn't like it.

Fair enough.

We talked.

I tried to explain the feeling, the idea that I could afford to not take an opportunity to fuck her, for example, because I own her, and I have all the opportunities I could possibly want to fuck her.

She began to compare it to a woman in a singles bar, who doesn't need to take every offer for sex, because she can have sex whenever she wants. Amy said when she goes to a bar, the last thing she thinks about is getting sex. Which of course the one thing many guys are totally focused on when they go to a bar (or anywhere).

So she began to understand the idea of passing up sex, because you can have it anytime you want.

But she doesn't want to be taken for granted.

And she talked about being insecure.

We laughed a bit about this.

What does she need to be secure? We just got married, we are working on having a baby...we talked about a host of things that she could think about to make herself feel secure.

Now, Amy is a logical woman. She knows all this. But emotionally?

I think we lost some little bit of connection this past two weeks with some heavy workloads and family cares. Plus the vasectomy reversal surgery sent our sex life and physical connection into an unusual sort of limbo. And when you lose that connection, the first place it shows up is in insecurity. I doubt it would have shown up as insecurity at all, if not for events in our respective pasts.

We have discussed the ways in which we could have held more easily to our connection. I will be firmer with my direction of Amy when telling her what I want. I tend to be too polite, which can fog my true desires. I haven't been physically aggressive with her as well - hey I've got stitches on my balls! I think we both need the rough play, we are used to it with each other, and when it was suddenly cut out we weren't prepared for the loss of emotional intensity it engendered.

Insecurity comes and goes. We have been together a short time, physically. Three months. Longer online, but physically together, it's been a short time and we are still learning about each other, and understanding our needs.

I understand Amy's better now.

She understands mine better.

The only thing I didn't like about her post was the "Meet the new Boss - same as the old Boss," theme.

I'm not like her old Boss. I'm not like anyone she's ever known. It pissed me off to read it, but I know she knows better.

Insecure or secure, happy or unhappy; I own her ass. And every other fucking inch of her.

Whatever problems we have, we settle between us. We talk. We face it. No retreat.

Nobody's going anywhere.

No apologies either. I don't want her feeling bad about being emotional.

I'm fucking emotional.

Amy has to be as utterly Amy as possible. I want to know what she loves, what she hates, what she she hungers for, what makes her shudder. It doesn't matter a fuck if I don't like what I hear. I want the real Amy.

I want to love the parts that even Amy doesn't love about herself.

We'll continue to deal with insecurity, and whatever else we uncover. I'll continue to use her, throw her on the bed, fuck her, make her cum, or not let her cum, hurt her, pleasure her, all the things I like doing to her. Including treating her like a disposable fuck.

It's who I am.

Well, I feel a little silly writing a post ("Disposable?") that detailed my insecurities only days after being married to the love of my life. But the insecurities are/were real, and posting about them helped kick off a discussion between Richard and me about the situation, so I'm happy I did.

Richard pointed out to me that our play or interactions in which he ignores me or uses and discards me may be "edge play" for me, given my past bad experiences of being neglected and taken for granted in relationships. Edge play, for the non-kinky people out there, is play that skirts dangerous ground, either physically or emotionally. So, for example, knife or needle play is considered edge play by most, although one person's edge play is another's yawnsville of course.

I think a part of me was hoping, once he pointed this out, that he would say "So I think it best that we no longer do that sort of thing." But he didn't.

And that got me thinking.

I started exploring BDSM online less than a year ago. Up until the time that Richard and I first met in real life, part of me thought that D/s would always only be a part of my fantasies, NOT my real life. If it became part of my life, as I've said before, I thought it would be in the bedroom as sexual play, not permeating my entire life. Not 24/7. Not Master/slave.

This three months (24/7 D/s M/s) has been incredible. So erotic, so exciting, so thrilling. At the same time, life with Richard is so...easy. We get along so well, we're so compatible. It's a luscious combination of new relationship excitement and old relationship comfort.

I'm so spoilt! For the first time in my life, I've had as much attention and snuggling and affection and nurturing and fussing over as I could wish for. I've also been spanked more and slapped more and bitten and pinched more than ever in my life.

And ordered around! Constantly! But, hey, that's still attention. And it appears that all attention is good attention for Amy.

I'm taking a long time to get to my point. Sorry.

Richard's post "Disposable Girl" and the following discussion made me realize that (wait for it): it's not all about me.

Not that I mostly think that, but at some level I have been loving all the attention and feeling very special and precious and adored and not facing the fact that: I am a slave and it's not about me.

This is real. This is not role play. This is not acting out fantasies. I entered into a relationship in which one of the critical agreements is that I give up all control to Richard. All control.

Sure, I can always change my mind. But that would be monumental. Telling Richard I no longer wished to submit to him would be comparable to saying that I realized I am a lesbian. It would be more than becoming sexually incompatible, because this is about more than sex. This is about intimacy and this is also about how we "run" our lives.

You might say "Yes, but you don't have to say you don't want to submit *at all*. You could just say you didn't want to submit to a particular thing."

That would be the same thing. I agreed to submit to him completely. I can't say "I submit to you completely...except for X". That's not submitting.

So. I don't get to say "I don't want to play *disposable girl*" anymore than I get to say "I don't want to play *nasty-pinchy-clothespin-thingies*". (Richard would be quick to point out that of course I can say that, it just won't have any effect on what he chooses to do.)

Bottom line: I am still learning the reality of being a slave. I am still coming to terms with having handed over all power to Richard. It feels wonderful to have done, I trust him completely, I don't regret it, but I'm still adjusting to it. Stay tuned.

Amy and me at our wedding
Amy and I eloped last week, getting married on a beach at sunset.

We held each other barefoot in the sand, telling each other how we felt, and what we loved about the other, and how happy we were to be forming a new family together.

Very intimate, very relaxed.

Just wonderful.

Been playing around a bit more with the camera. Kinda like this shot.

We bought the corset at the Trashy Diva in the French Quarter of New Orleans on our recent trip there.

JD says he's eager to hear what I did when Richard left me as I was masturbating (see Richard's last post).

What I did was...get up and get dressed and go downstairs and have coffee and get on with my day.

I have some ambivalent feelings about what Richard posted last, and I thought the best way to become more clear would be to write about it. We'll see if Richard agrees; if this post disappears it's because he doesn't lol.

So. On the surface, his post is very hot to me. And being used is hot to me. I love it when Richard takes what he wants, ignoring my protests and pleading.

In fact, I think part of the reason our sexual relationship is so satisfying to me is that I KNOW Richard won't do anything he doesn't want to do. Which allows me to relax and enjoy myself; with past partners I was always so concerned that they weren't doing what they wanted or that they weren't happy that I couldn't relax and have fun.

Also, Richard likes to do things that make me feel good. This morning he was playing with me, licking and sucking and teasing for probably an hour. When I came, I thought my head would explode (thankfully, not a migraine this time, just pure bliss).

And he doesn't just do things for me sexually. Right now he is downstairs making dinner. He sent me up to take a nap because he could tell I was feeling a little tired. He'll come get me when it's ready, probably with a glass of wine for me in his hand.

So why am I feeling ambivalent about the last post? Well, I've spent most of my adult life in relationships in which I was taken for granted and more or less ignored. This comes a bit close to that for comfort. I don't ever want to feel taken for granted again. Nevernevernevernevernever.

Richard doesn't make me feel ignored or taken for granted, so I know this is just me being over-sensitive. But how do I deal with that?

As we've discussed in previous posts, it's also been a crazy busy couple of weeks and we've had a lot less sex than we're used to, because of Richard's surgery. So I think I'm already feeling a tiny bit distant from Richard, a bit less connected, a bit less owned. Maybe I wouldn't even have blinked at his post a few weeks ago. I don't know.

In a way, it reminds me of how I felt when he posted about possibly exploring orgasm denial further. Ugh. I felt like "Wow. Orgasm denial. Gee, I've experienced that with partners for many a year."

You know that saying "Welcome to the new boss. Just like the old boss." ? That's what I was thinking.

We talked about it and I think he understood how I was feeling. Hopefully he'll understand how I feel about this. Maybe I just need a little petting and assuring. Sigh.

Amy's body is no longer hers.

I woke her one night, and played with her nipples as she struggled to understand what was happening to her. She wanted to sleep. I wanted to make her cum.

She came.

For now, I have chosen to control when she pees, when she masturbates, when she cums. I enjoy the luxury of owning her body, and using her for what I want. Sometimes I want to fuck her, to explore the sensuality of her body, and sometimes I like hurting her, feeling her whimper and moan under a much harsher touch.

And sometimes I just throw her away.

I started playing with her in the morning, stroking her and slowly arousing her. Time, however, was not in her favor. I had Amy whimpering and struggling as I held her wrists with one hand and played with her breasts with the other. I made her masturbate, and watched, but there were other things I wanted to do.

I got up and told her to keep masturbating.

She did so.

I moved about the room, getting ready, getting dressed, as Amy masturbated quietly and intensely without my attention. An occasional glance over showed her obediently playing with herself, although I no longer cared to watch. I was done with her.

Fully dressed and ready to leave, I laid a hand on her cheek. Men fantasize about walking in on a woman like Amy masturbating. The way she is right now. Aroused. Excited. Ready to fuck.

"I'm leaving. You can masturbate until you cum, or I will make you cum later tonight. Your choice."

Then I closed the door on her, and left.

My surgery had pretty much healed, it's a vasectomy reversal so things have been pretty sensitive down there for a bit.

And hence, no penetrative sex.

Plus we have to be careful not to do anything that would damage the newly conjoined vas deferens, as well. Vasa deferentia, to be precise.

The surgeon said that scarring could eventually close off a successful reversal, so not to hold back on attempting to make Amy pregnant once the healing has completed.

So.

Amy has some stuff for timing her ovulation, and the like. I'm figuring that's nice, but unnecessary. I'm planning to keep her ovaries bathed in sperm, 24.7.

Which leads us to the fuck Amy describes in her last post.

I'm playing with her nipples, and Amy is wriggling and moaning as I touch her. She's probably figuring on no release, or maybe I'll make her masturbate and cum, but that's all.

I tell her to straddle me.

She protests briefly, to of course no avail.

She settles down on my cock, sighing, her eyes half closed.

I hold her hips, pulling her down solidly on my cock.

I start her moving, making her fuck me, making her do the work as I guide her movements with my hands. We slowly pick up the pace, making sure I'm feeling ok and intact. Amy is, well, transcendently ecstatic. I am myself, to a degree, but I'm a man with a mission here.

A whole week berefit of my cock has left Amy with very little resistance, and she begins to become very seriously involved in our fuck. She talks to me, or at least I think she does, but the words make no sense, except for an occasional "no!" I think I hear her say something, but when I ask, she looks at me with unfocused eyes, confused.

I let the moment go by, preoccupied myself now with fucking her, thrusting up into her from below, while shaping and controlling her body by hand pressure. The slightest change in her position changes how my cock feels inside her, and I reshape her every time I start to get too used to one sensation.

By now Amy is lost. She coos, and moans and sighs, her pelvis moving in excited rhythm. I continue to tweak her nipples, and suck her breasts, until she wriggles down in close to me, and starts to bite my shoulder, and beg for me to fuck her.

I'm using her now, I don't give a fuck what she is feeling as she writhes and scratches and bites me. I block her out of my mind, as my hands hold her ass, her ribcage, her hips, constantly changing the angle of the thrust into her pussy. She's clearly excited, and while I might like to connect with her when she is this aroused normally, I ignore whatever she is doing with her hands and mouth, and keep my cock working into her. I mold her body into a final position, I don't even know if she can notice anymore, but for me right now she is no longer Amy, she is simply cunt, cunt that is warm and excited and vulnerable - open to whatever I choose to do to her. I haven't cum in a week and didn't expect to today.

I cum.

Pushing up into cunt from below, I cum, as cunt makes some very happy noises above me, that I block out as best I can, while I let her know I am cumming in her, and sink my cock home deep.

I force cunt off my cock, and have her lie beside me, and make her masturbate, knowing that if she orgasms within a half hour or so of my cumming in her it's supposed to increase chances of conception, or some such thing. I need to research it more, but for now I want her to cum.

She can't cum.

Too many mini orgasms while fucking me she whimpers, and reaches out to touch a glob of cum left at the base of my cock from our fucking. Cunt rubs it between her fingers, wondering, holding the first potentially fertile cum I've released in 19 years.

She lies back, the rest of the cum in her belly.

Mine.

In the three months I've been (real time) with Richard, I think I've had more sex than the rest of my life put together. Three times a day adds up pretty quickly to the same amount of sex in a 15 year, once a month whether we need it or not, kinda marriage.

(OMG! I just busted out my calculator, cuz I'm a geek like that... 12x15=180 times having sex in marriage, 3x90=270 times having sex with Richard! I've already had 50% more sex with Richard than I did with my ex! Approximately.)

And that's just talking about quantity. Quality, well, there's no comparison. Richard is an incredibly thoughtful and creative lover and of course, finally recognizing my kink and having a kink-compatible lover makes a world of difference to my own interest in sex.

But. As Richard said in an earlier post, we are in a short-term period when he's not supposed to have penetrative sex. Although two weeks reeeeeally doesn't feel short-term right now.

He's been using the time, as he said, to force me to masturbate to orgasm repeatedly. Evil creative genius that he is.

Amy, unaware she is about to be fucked.

We've also cheated already, with the girl-on-top position. Not a favorite of either of ours, and Richard had never cum in that position. Before yesterday. Who would have thought that a guy could be so dominant in the "female superior" position? Here's how it went.

We're lying on the bed, taking a "nap". We're snuggling and kissing and Richard starts playing with my breasts. After about 30 seconds (really) he says "Get on top of me."

I start to argue "This probably isn't a good idea. We're supposed to wait two weeks, you know."

"Get on top of me. Now."

He's using the no-nonsense voice, so I get on top of him. I thought I'd have trouble, since we've only been playing for a minute or so, but the combination of pent-up desire and Richard's no-nonsense voice has me wet and ready to be entered.

We both groan as he enters me. How could we have gone a week without this? It feels so sweet, so good I can almost taste it.

I move on top of him gingerly, concerned not to hurt him. He reaches up and cups my breasts in his hands. Then he begins to play with my nipples, and it becomes harder for me to control my movements. He is lying still, letting me do the work.

"Keep moving. Don't slow down."

His hands don't leave my nipples for a second, the tugging reaches all the way to my cunt.

I can feel him moving gently with me. I let out another moan and, without noticing, slip a finger into my mouth. I'm sucking hard on it as I'm being fucked from below.

His hands leave my breasts and slide down to my hips. He begins to guide me up and down on his cock.

I'm trying hard to control myself. I really don't think we should be doing this and I'm worried Richard will get hurt. But it's getting harder not to buck and claw and bite. I fall forward onto his shoulder and steady myself by biting down.

He's able to change where his cock hits inside me simply by changing where his hands hold me. He moves from my hips to my waist and then my lower back. Each movement is so intense I can't stifle a moan or exclamation.

He's getting harder and he's fucking me deeper. I grip his shoulders with my fingers. Later, I notice scratch marks there.

After a few minutes his fucking gets more erratic and I can tell he's close to cumming. His eyes are closed and his breathing is ragged. For a second I worry that he's going to get hurt, and then I'm lost again in the sensations.

"Oh God. Fuck. I'm cumming. I'm cumming."

He thrusts deep and empties his cum into me. It feels...indescribable.

Less than a week to go.

Was looking through some pics of our recent New Orleans trip, and discovered this shot of Amy in her naughty schoolgirl skirt.

The skirt kinda shows a bit more than Amy is comfortable with, from behind you can see the lower quarter of her ass, and she's a little shy about that. Still, with some nice white lacy panties...

I'll do some shots of her in it, and we'll use it for role play scenes. I've got some pics of Amy in the corset(and nothing else) that we bought there as well, but some of them might be a little too explicit. I'll see. Definitely doesn't leave any part of Amy hidden, or force you to use your imagination. And that's half the fun, isn't it?

Continued from Face fucking

We are on the couch. Richard flips me onto my back and pulls me over the arm of the couch by my hair. He stands over and behind me, grabs me by the wrists and pulls my arms wide.

"Open your mouth."

He slides his cock halfway into my mouth. In and out, slowly, a couple of times. Then he slides all the way in and holds there, at the base of my throat. I try to stay calm, but I can't breathe and after a few seconds I try to pull away.

He pushes in further, pinning me in place with his cock.

I begin to panic and struggle to break free. He holds my wrists tightly and keeps me pinned with his cock.

I buck and finally manage to turn my head to the side. I gasp for breath.

"Don't fucking fight me." He grabs both wrists in one hand and slaps me, hard, on both cheeks.

"Pay attention. Are you paying attention?"

"Yes." I whisper. Boy, am I paying attention. He has my complete attention.

"I'm going to slide my cock down into your throat again. You mustn't fight me. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Again. He continues to hold my arms wide, slides partway in and out a couple of times, and then all the way in. I struggle to stay calm, but after a few seconds I panic and pull away again.

This time he pulls out quickly and grabs both wrists in one hand. My neck and back are arched over the arm of the chair, and he leans forward and slaps my breasts hard, over and over. I begin to cry, but he doesn't stop.

"You are going to learn to suck cock like a real slut. I don't care if I have to hurt you, you're going to learn how to suck my cock."

"Are you ready to try again?"

I nod, sniffling, with tears running into my ears.

And again. Slide partway in, slide partway out, then all the way to the base of my throat. His balls rest against the bridge of my nose. I feel claustrophobic, but I figure out I can breathe through my nose. I'm drooling out the sides of my mouth (ew), I'm covered in sweat and tears, but I can breathe.

He stays in my throat for what feels like an eternity, but I don't panic. Then he slowly pulls out.

"Good girl. You were a good girl. OK, again."

All the way in. I become very passive and simply focus on breathing. He pulls out again, probably after the same amount of time, but it doesn't seem so long this time.

"Excellent. Good girl. You're a good little cocksucking slut, aren't you?"

I whimper. He knows I hate to be called a slut.

"Are you my little cocksucker? My little cocksucking whore?"

I'm on my back, arched over the arm of the couch, and Richard has a death grip on my wrists. He's already slapped me (did I mention hard?) on my face and breasts. A smart girl would say "Yes sir" wouldn't she? But I hate being called a whore even more than I hate being called a slut. So I sniff and turn my head. Genius.

He grabs me by the hair and pulls my head back even further, then slaps me across the face several times. He slaps my breasts until I'm crying again.

Then, without any warning, he shoves his cock down my throat. I struggle, because I didn't have time to prepare, but this time he's got me well pinned and I can't escape. He face fucks me roughly for a minute or two or an hour...I don't know.

He pulls out of me, then sits down on the couch and pulls me onto his lap. At this point I've become very passive and quiet, pretty much the opposite of the smug woman who began the blowjob session a short time ago. I snuggle up against him and he pets me and tells me how proud he is of me and how well I did, that he was very hard on me and I handled it so well.

His praise makes me ridiculously happy.

Minor surgery last week left me in the unusual situation where I am not supposed to have sex for at least two weeks. No sex, and preferably, no orgasms.

Preferably according to the doctor, that is.

Amy suggested that she not cum over the next two weeks as well, to share what I am going through.

No.

At first, it sounded like a nice experiment in orgasm denial for both of us, but I like making Amy cum. So she doesn't want to this week, but I have the delicious pleasure of making her cum when she is objecting to it. Well, objecting to a point. Once I play with her nipples long and hard enough, she's not sentient enough to form a coherent objection any more, unless you count the word "No."

Which I don't.

I woke her up sometime Sunday night, and played with her until she came. No surprise there, but since I hadn't cum I just let her sleep a few hours, then woke her again. This time she woke up kind of cranky, wanting to sleep and thinking that since I couldn't fuck her anyway, why was I bothering?

Whatever.

I used her for a long time that second time, finally letting her cum and she fell asleep almost immediately, exhausted in my arms.

Naturally, I wanted very much to fuck her, but without that option, I simply enjoyed my control over her, and the satisfaction of her wild and sexually helpless under my touch. I knew she wanted to fuck, so I hand fucked her, which worked well enough as a substitute, but only just.

Later that morning, after we were up on the couch some time after breakfast, she cuddled under a blanket to ward off the chill in the house, and began talking about how she liked having a smooth pussy, just freshly epilated.

We talked about her pussy for a while, with Amy playing with it a little, until she began masturbating with me watching.

Wonderful.

I began to consider just how many orgasms Amy could have in a day, not counting the multiple smaller ones she often has. These were the big ones, stunning tremors that leave her speechless and shuddering, sweat slicked and exhausted as I touch and hold her afterwards.

We went upstairs later, and began to play again. Amy whimpered and begged for me not to make her play anymore, withh the usual effect.

This time her orgasm triggered a migraine, which took some care and time to alleviate, and combined with another unforseen circumstance, ended our play for the day. But there seemed to be no sign that she couldn't cum again, and every time I begin to tweak her nipples she begins to writhe and moan. I'm starting to think she has an infinite resevoir of orgasms, which could explain why she's always ready to fuck, a trait that I enjoy immensely. This is the first time I've made her cum four times in a day; it won't be the last. I'm not worried about number crunching, but if she can cum more often than I had realized, I want to explore just how extreme I can get with controlling her sexual pleasures.


We haven't fucked all week, and previously we haven't gone more thqan 24 hours without fucking, and rarely more than 6 to 8 hours, so this circumstance is very brand new for us. This morning Amy was stroking and holding my cock, whining a little because she wanted to be fucked so bad, and it's still a week away before I can sink it into her pussy once again.

Well, sort of.

I can't fuck her hard, not right now.

But I see no problem in slipping my hard cock into her, and tonight I plan to force her lovely mouth down over my cock for some delicate face fucking, as much as I can take anyway, because I am still sensitive from the surgery.

Would have been a perfect week for making her fuck someone else.

It's certainly been a good week for making her cum against her will, with my hands teasing her nipples, pussy and ass into a state where she suddenly can't resist her own sexual needs. And cums. And cums again.

And while I won't yet be cumming in her pretty body any time soon, I'll still be able to enjoy watching her helpless and in the throes of her own orgasm.

Very, very satisfying.