Sorry folks, this is a personal ramble, not a story. People often ask me, though, why I write “porn” and honestly, I’m a bit offended by that. I don’t write “porn” any more than a mystery writer writes “death.” I write about a lifestyle that people either don’t understand but want to, do understand and love, think they understand but what to know more about, find entertaining. Seriously. My main goals are writing is entertainment first, information second. I’ve lived various aspects of the BDSM lifestyle for over 30 years. I have not ever been a 24/7 slave, nor will I. I just don’t have that kind of discipline. We don’t have a “playroom” in our home – no spare room for it. I don’t and will never have my nipples pierced. There’s a whole laundry list of other things that I write about but have never personally experienced. I have, however, researched it all, usually by talking to people who HAVE experienced it, reading other blogs, and reading articles on various topics. Could I write more mainstreamed romance – and in doing so probably make more money? Of course. But I like what I write. I like the edginess of it all. I like that it makes some people intrigued and others slightly uncomfortable. What I don’t like and never want, though is to offend anyone. That’s why I make sure there is always a warning on my books and websites. No judgement! Just, if you don’t like this type of story, don’t read it. I probably wouldn’t enjoy reading about the history of farm equipment. That doesn’t, however, mean that I would look down on someone who DOES enjoy it or who writes about. There’s a place for all kinds of reading and writing. BDSM romance just happens to be mine. So, if you like my little stories here, please check out my books at Amazon or Barnes and Noble.
“Now give me your hands.”
I held them out to him. I felt rough rope being tied around them and then I was facing the wall. Uncle had installed pulleys into the ceiling. He kept ropes attached to these which came in useful for his woodworking hobby as well as for my bondage. With the metal chain still in my mouth and my nipples now numb from the clamps, I faced the wall and felt my arms raise. Once in position, he held me close, his now bare chest against my back and I leaned into him. His arms came around front and, simultaneously, he released my nipples. I screamed from the pain and my knees buckled. Only because of the ropes lifting me and his strong arm around me did I manage to stay upright. He lifted my hair, kissed my neck and murmured how proud he was of me, how beautiful I was, how much he wanted me.
But not yet. No. My breasts were red from his slaps, my nipples hard as bullets from the clamps, now, he said, now it was time for my bottom. He’d been thinking of this all day, he said. Planning it. He had many implements he could use to redden my ass – wooden paddles, a cane, floggers, a hair brush, but tonight, tonight he would use only one. His belt. I moaned. I both loved and hated his belt. First, I love the scent of leather – and the feel of it. His belt is old and soft, pliable. Yet, he is a master at flicking it just right. Laying it across my bottom never in the same spot twice, but always in the right spot.
“Cry all you want. You know I love your tears,” he murmured in my ear. “But don’t turn around. I don’t want to hurt you. Stay facing the wall, keep that chain in your mouth so you don’t talk, and if you can do all this for a count of twenty, I’ll reward you.”
I nodded my understanding, thankful that the chain had served it’s purpose.
Uncle removed my bra. He then walked me over to stand with my back to a wall. The rough wood scrapped, but was smooth enough that I didn’t worry about splinters. He sucked on my nipples and I moaned. I swear that every nerve in my body begins with my nipples! He tugged and bit until I was dancing from foot to foot with the pain of it and with the need to come.
He pulled back and said, “Like that, you naughty girl. You know what happens to naughty girls when they go out on dates don’t you?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Of course you do. They get punished don’t they.”
He began to slap my large breasts. Biting my lip, I strove to keep my hands down.
“But you like this, don’t you. Don’t answer. I can smell your wetness through your panties. I know you do. Beg me to fuck you.”
“Please!” I begged, tears flowing down my face. “Please, Uncle, fuck me.”
He laughed and I knew he wasn’t finished torturing me. Instead I felt his hard fingers twist my nipples then the bite of cold metal.
“No! Please,” I cried. Shit! I’d spoken without permission!
He paused and asked if I wanted to use my safe word. I shook my head and said no.
Then, he raised the chain liking the clamps to my mouth.
“Open. This will remind you not to speak and keep a nice tension on those clamps. Do not let that chain fall from your mouth,” he warned. “Do not come without permission. Do not beg.”
I concentrated on the cold steel in my mouth. I focused on breathing.
“That’s my good girl,” he praised.
Joy surged inside of me. I could do this. As long as it pleased it, I could do this.
Date night. That’s what the text said. I knew exactly what that meant. Uncle (no, he’s not really my uncle! He wanted a title, however, that showed power yet was different from most other D/s relationships.) needed me to be totally and completely under his control tonight. Oh I could still use my safe word, but aside from that, I would have no voice in what we did. I would be at his mercy, but mercy would be withheld. To prepare, I showered, shaved (everything), made sure EVERYTHING was clean, and applied lubrication. I then put on a new lingerie set of red lace. Then, I waited, standing by the bedroom door. He looked at me, nodded, then put a collar and leash on me and led me into the barn. Here, he also added a blindfold. He tugged the leash and I knelt, opening my mouth as I did so. I was careful to keep my hands down even though I wanted so very much to touch him. I knew better. I could only touch with permission. I heard him unzip his trousers and then his cock was in my mouth. I LOVE the taste of his cock! The sweetness of his precum, the softness of his skin, the hardness of the muscle all combine to intoxicate me. As I wrapped my lips around his girth and relaxed my throat so that I could swallow as much of him as possible I began to drift into that lovely sub mind space. I heard him moan, then he pushed his cock deeply into my mouth and I felt the warm cream of his pleasure slide easily down my throat. Before I could recover, he tugged on my leash and I stood. Blindly, I followed him. He held a glass to my lips and I swallowed the small sip of wine.
“Good girl. Now, we will begin our date.”
Joan: I Promise to love you and care for you, to always voice my opinions in an honest and respectful manner, to consider your needs above my own, to discuss rather than to argue, to trust in your words and actions. I promise to honor you, respect you, obey you, and love you for the rest of my life.
Paul: I Promise to love you and care for you, to provide for you, to lead you, to protect you. I promise to consider your needs above my own, to discuss rather than argue, to voice my opinions in an honest and respectful manner. I promise to honor you, respect you, and love you for the rest of my life.
I’m not sure how, but I was a good girl for Uncle. I cried and I wiggled, but I did not speak, nor did I turn around in a vain attempt to avoid his belt. He had been in no mood for mercy, so by bottom was on fire and, I had no doubt, was bright red, possibly even bruised. I didn’t mind a bit. All I cared about was that Uncle and again called me a “good girl.” Now, was time for my reward. He lowered my arms and walked me over to his work table, keeping my wrists bound. I was still blindfolded and leashed as well with the nipple clamp chain dangling from my mouth. He took this out and I was grateful. Then, he wrapped his belt around my mouth and told me I’d better bite on that. I opened my lips without hesitation. By now I was so far into subspace I would have obeyed any command.
He lifted me a bit so that I was on my toes and set me against his workbench so that the smooth wooden corner pressed against my clit. The, he pushed his cock into my anus. I cried out again, bit on the belt and leaned forward. His cock filled me, it always does, and he fucked me hard, giving no time for my body to get used to this invasion. I didn’t want the time. I wanted him. I wanted his strength. I wanted his power. I wanted, more than anything, to come! He slapped my ass and continued to fuck me mercilessly. I couldn’t help it. I exploded into a million pieces, his voice scolding me for being so naughty. I heard crying and knew it was me, but I couldn’t stop. Then, he pushed in deeper, held himself inside of me. I heard him panting, felt the hot spurts of his pleasure inside of me. He leaned on me, panting, satiated. He kissed my neck and brushed my hair out of my face. I smiled, pleased, warm, protected. Then he said something that made me shiver.
“You know I’m going to have to punish you for coming without permission.”
Yesterday was our final day at our retreat. Today, it’s back to reality, but with a whole different perspective. First, I still wear the chastity belt – with both plugs in it – beneath my clothing. Milord has promised that when he returns to work he will remove the plugs. Second, I now wear a beautiful silver and gold bracelet which is locked onto my wrist. It has the same key as the chastity belt which Milord wears around his neck. He has given me a spare key to wear as well, with the understanding that I will use it only in case of emergency. After all, what he puts in or on me remains until he decides to remove it. Over the last two weeks I have been fucked multiple times in every orifice every day. I have been leashed, belted, cuffed, or roped daily. I have swallowed Milord’s blessed cum every day. I have walked naked in both sunlight and darkness. I have been spanked by his hand, his belt, willow branches, and a wooden paddle. I have been flogged. I have been plugged in every opening. I have been denied clothing. I have begged to engage in bodily functions. My nipples have been bitten, clamped, waxed, and pricked. I have never felt so beautiful or strong.
Lessons Learned: I am stronger and more capable than I thought.
I trust Milord to care for me, protect me, respect me, love me.
I am happiest when I give my power over to Milord.
I am fulfilled by acts of service.
Milord will always act in my best interest.
Milord will push my boundaries but never break them.
Milord is deserving of my love, respect, and trust.
Being Milord’s submissive is rather like a rose. Some days are as soft and sweet as the petals, but others are as rough and punishing as thorns. Together, they make the perfect combination.