Feminist Sub

I am a feminist and a submissive. Yes, I believe that a woman has the right, no, the duty to make her own decisions based upon her desires, needs, and abilities. Yes, I bCoYr-f7XEAEqhaMelieve a woman’s voice is just as judicial as a man’s. Yes, I believe a woman must and should stand up for herself, be self supporting, and confident. Yes, I believe a woman’s decisions regarding her own life should be honored.

With this in mind, I ask the world to honor my decision to be a submissive woman. I am not placing myself lower in status that a man – anyone really. Nor am I placing myself above anyone. I am choosing to accept my man’s expectations of me because it makes me happy to do so. I am choosing to accept my man’s mark on me because it makes me proud to do so. I am choosing to kneel before the man I love, not because he demands it, but because he asks it. I am choosing to serve him because service is one of the many ways I show him the depths of my love and commitment to him.

Yes, I am a feminist, and as such, I use my power to become a submissive woman.

Nip-let bound

pierced nipple chainedYes, I wear Milord’s chains. Sometimes just a small anklet, sometimes a necklace, sometimes more. Today, it’s more. Today, he wished me to wear all of his chains – the anklet, the necklace, and, what he deems, the niplet. Last year I agreed to have my nipples pierce, something Milord had desired for quite some time, but that I had resisted. Yes, it hurt like fucking hell. Yes, my nipples are constantly hard now. Yes, this sometimes embarrasses me, but Yes, I’m glad I agreed. Just the look of pride and pleasure in Milord’s eyes was reward enough, but the added sensitivity of my nipples combined with the endless play and punishment possibilities has made this decision one of my best.

Milord had me put the simple rings into my nipples this morning. Then, he laced a delicate chain which matches my necklace through the rings. This is a very long chain which has a variety of uses. He could wrap it around my body multiple times. He could loop it over itself then between my legs. Today, he had work to do in the garage. He decided that he wanted me with him, but my fidgeting annoyed him. That was when he took both ends of the chain and attached them to a carabiner on his pegboard wall, allowing only about 12 inches of slack – enough for me to sit if he gives me a stool or to kneel on the floor, but not enough for me to wander about.

Naturally, I quickly became bored. I started asking him questions. The babbling, knowing full well that this was not acceptable behavior.  Then, he opened a drawer and pulled out the ball gag. I shut up. Too late, though.  Once Milord has made a decision, there’s no changing his mind. Image result for ball gagged woman

“I brought you out here so I could look at your beauty while I work and maybe, if you were good, I’d fuck you.” My eyes widened and I started to smile. He held up one finger. “But you’ve intentionally behaved like a spoiled brat. So. Open your mouth.” I did so. “Good. Now stay there and be quiet. If you can do that without disturbing me for an hour, I’ll reward you.” I nodded, determined to obey. “But if you don’t, the next step will be to turn you around, re-hook our Nip-let very close to the wall, and give whip your pretty ass with this switch. Understand?” I nod.

Now, I’m standing with my nipples pressed against the pegboard, the gag still between my lips, my ass hot and tender fro the switch, and my pussy dripping with need.

My Lord’s Chains

72476c50ee9b74158ed2c8bdde9cb6a5Really, it’s my own fault. I told Him that I would not, simply would not wear a collar in public. Not tonight, not any night. No. That collar was for us privately. I was not His 24/7 submissive. I had agreed to be his 24/2 1/2 submissive. From Friday after work until Monday morning, I was his collared girl, but from Monday to Friday I was my own person. True, tonight is Friday, so I suppose that means that He does have the right to require what He will of me. Still, we’re going out in public. The collar, while of fine leather, is soft, but also tight and uncomfortable. I should have known I got off easy when he relented so quickly. All he said was “Okay. The choice is yours, but you know there will be consequences.”

Consequences. Shit. Too late now to take back my hasty words. Afterall, it was just a little collar and we were going to a private club where no one from work would be. Hell, we weren’t even in the same city as where we lived! What did I have to complain about? Still, it was too late to take back my hasty words. This often happens on a Friday evening – it takes me a whildiaper-position1e to get into “sub-mode.”

First consequence – a spanking. Not just any spanking. He waited until I was half dressed in my stockings and heels (I’m never allowed to wear undies or a bra on weekends). Then, he told me to sit on the bed. He tied my ankles together and pushed me back, raising my legs and putting me in the “diaper” position. I HATE this position. It’s freaking humiliating!! Then, he wailed away on my poor behind – first with his hand, then with a ping pong paddle. Trust me, if you’ve never been spanked with a ping pong paddle, you don’t want to be! It stung like hell and I knew I’d be tender and sore for the whole weekend from this spanking alone.

Second consequence – If I wouldn’t wear his collar, I’d wear his chain. I looked at him in confusion. He grinned and handed me a present. I opened it slowly. A body chain. Beautiful, silver. With my bottom still burning, I didn’t dare argue. I put it on. It’s intricate design draped my body. I was truly beautiful and lightweight, much more comfortable than the collar. He handed me a dress. I gaped at him. The dress was skimpy – down to there and up to here. The body chain would be clearly visible. EVERYONE at the club would know I wore it and it alone beneath the white dress.

“But Milord. . . ” I began.

“One more word and I’ll add nipple jewelry as well.”

My mouth snapped shut. Now, my face is flaming while all the other diners stare at me. Milord just smiles and sips his wine. I get wet watching him and groan. A white dress. Crap. He grins at me, knowing I’ve just figured out my third consequence.

Long Distance Discipline

Sir is gone, out of the country, but that doesn’t mean I serve him less. No, it simply means I serve him differently. I keep an online journal which I must update daily by 8:00 p.m. My rules are still in place, and so I must tell him if I have broken any. I also tell him about my day or any fantasies or fears I have. He responds daily as well. Giving me specific tasks sometimes, sometimes just telling me about his day. Sometimes, we are able to connect through Skype. He works odd hours and we can’d do this every day, but today is a good day. He has send me instructions as to what to wear and what time to be on Skype and in which room. He’s also told me which “toys” to have on hand. He may instruct me in their use, or he may just simply want them there.

“Hello, my little Devil. And how are you this evening?”

“I’m well, thank you Sir. And you?”

“Horny. I’m glad you followed my instructions. You look stunning.”

I’m wearing a corset which he sent me, a g-string, and not much else. It took me an hour to get the corset on and the laces tightened, but his words make the work well worth it.

“Thank you, Sir. Is there anything I might do to help you with your horniness?”

He laughs. I get wetter. I LOVE the sound of his voice, especially his laughter.

“You really are a devil. Now, pull your g-string aside so I can see how wet you are. That’s it. Now dip one finger inside and show me. Perfect.”

He’s fully dressed, but now unzips his trousers and pulls out his cock. I stare in open mouthed awe. Whabw corsett I wouldn’t give right now to have that thing of beauty in my mouth.

“Now, do you have the glass dildo? Good. Is it chilled? That’s my good girl. Now, put it inside of you, but just barely. Not to deep.”

I groan. Getting ready for him, seeing him, hearing his voice. I’m ready to come NOW!!!

“Good. Don’t you think you need to be punished for making me so horny?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good answer. And how shall I punish you?”

“It is for you to decide, Sir.”

A light chuckle. “Excellent answer. Do you have the wasabi?”

Holy hell! I thought that was just going to be for the fear factor!!

“Yes, Sir.”

“Put a small dab of it on your finger. That’s good. Now, rub it on your clit.”

“But sir. . . ”

“Now, little Devil.”

I gulp and do as he commands. HOLY FUCKING HELL!! The heat burns a path of pure desire through my entire body. I suck in my breathe.

“Please, sir. Please let me use the dildo.”

The coolness of the glass dildo melded with the heat of the wasabi are overpowering.

“Go ahead. Use it. But don’t hesitate to come. I want you to come hard.”

“Oh god”

I do. I spiral. Heat. Cold. The sight of him masturbating while I follow his orders. It’s all too much and I fall over the edge. I come back to earth slowly, and see that he too has fallen with me. I grin, proud that I could give him an orgasm.

“That’s my Devil. I’ll be home next Tuesday. Expect to be pounded.”

I grin wider. “Yes, Sir.”

“No quarter given.”

“None asked, Sir.”

 

 

TGIF BDSM style

It’s Friday afternoon – which means TGIF. Now, I don’t go out with co-workers to celebrate the weekend, I go home. Straight home. I CANNOT be late! Mister is cane on bottomalways home about an hour before I am and if I’m even one minute late on Fridays, I get punished. I LOVE this because I can’t wait for the weekend to start either. And just how do we start the weekend? With a not so gentle reminder that on weekends, I belong to Mister!! It starts with me immediately taking off my bottoms the moment I walk in the door – I mean if my lower half isn’t naked within 3 seconds of getting home, I’m in trouble. Then, I put away my things (lunch, slacks, panties, etc) and lie over Mister’s lap. If everything is good (no punishments), Mister gives me a perfect, lovely, hot and sexy OTK spanking. Today, however, I was four minutes late. For this, I have to bend over the dining table and stay still. No wiggling, no dancing, no standing up. STAY. STILL. Then, he gets the cane. Four minutes equals four stripes. Four red, welts across both cheeks that will cause my ass to be sore and tender, maybe even bruised a bit, for hours! I hear the singing of the wood, hold very still, and moan. Three more times he does this. By now, I’m crying, but so very pleased that I didn’t move. “Good. Now it’s time for your reward,” Mister says. I hear him drop his jeans on the floor, then he pulls apart my hot, sore cheeks. He lubs me up then, he pushed into my anus. I tense a bit, bite my lip, and drip wetness. He keeps pushing, then fucks me. Hard. Fast. This is not about making love. This is about fucking, ownership, marking his territory. I can’t take it. I come, squeezing my eyes shut, living in the pleasure of him. He follows close behind me, shooting his cum inside of me. But, our weekend ritual isn’t quite complete. Not yet. He pulls out and grabs my hair at the same time. I slide to the ground and open my mouth. Yes, I know ATM grosses some people out, but I love it. I take him in, sucking him, craddling his balls. I lick him clean, then kiss and lick his balls. He bends down, takes my face in his hands and kisses me. The only thing I can think is TGIF. What a perfect beginning to a weekend.