Cadged, benched and the sweet release of subspace


I’ve mentioned the cage before; about how it can be a place of punishment, and how it can be a place of retreat where I communicate my need of support. Last night, for reasons I won’t bore you with, it was most definitely the latter.

The process is simple: I finished work, logged off from my PC, undressed, closed myself into the cage, curled up and waited for Master C to discover me there.

I don’t know how long I was confined; time within the cage has its own special duration, it’s a kind of limbo where time has no meaning until I’m released.

“Is my little one feeling delicate?” Master C enquired softly on finding me confined.

I nodded. “Yes Sir,” I replied meekly, eyes downcast.

He left momentarily before returning; my collar and lead in one hand and a pair of cuffs on the other. “I think I know exactly what might help,” He said as He opened the cage and helped me out.

“Turn around!” a gentle command. I did as Master C bid me. The cuffs fastened around my wrists behind my back. The collar went around my neck and he fastened it tight. Attaching the lead. He turned me around, kissed me tenderly on the lips. “You know where to go,” He said.

I did. I know how this goes, but I still get a thrill of anticipation. “Yes Sir!” I replied.

“Well, lead the way then,” He said, giving my arse a playful swat.

I walked slowly thought to our playroom. In the middle of the room stood the bench. I glanced a coy look back of my shoulder. He nodded.

I walked up to the bench then bent over, my legs spread. Master C fastened the leather restraints around my ankles and then the side restraints went over my arms and fastened between my shoulder blades, holding me tightly in place. and then, I waited.

I waited while he pondered what implement to use. I flinched each time I heard a swoosh of air, only for flogger, or His belt, or the cane to land on the desk. I didn’t care which He used on me; any of them would hurt, any of them would begin my journey. I waited.

I waited, and the anticipation grew. I waited as he walked around me, scrutinising me, flexing the cane, or snapping the folds of his belt together in front of my face. I waited.

Again, that state of limbo, the passage of time meaningless. I waited.

SMACK! his belt struck across my arse. I cried out, as the stinging heat spread across my buttocks. SMACK! harder this time, or so it seemed. SMACK! harder still. His belt crisscrossed my buttocks; the intensity of each kiss adding to the fire of those that preceded it.

Hot tears fell from my eyes. Cries of pain were torn from my throat. His belt was merciless, His belt was harsh, His belt was unrelenting, His belt was just what I needed.

I didn’t count the lashes. This wasn’t a punishment where I needed to keep track, this was a centring, a rebalancing. My tears, my cries and my reddening skin were all that Master C needed to determine when I had reached the next stage.

Mt restraints were briefly undone. Master C repositioned me on my back, my head tilted back over the edge of the bench. The restraints were refastened, tighter; the one around my chest squashing my boobs and constricting my breathing. Slowly, Master C buckled his belt around my neck between my chin and my collar.

Tears still stung in my eyes, but I could see his lovely thick cock was hard. He slapped my face. “Open your mouth, slut! I’m going to fuck your throat.”

The words were what I needed to hear, and His cock was what I wanted to have. This wasn’t a blow-job, this wasn’t me worshiping His cock, lavishing attention on it; this was Master C fucking my throat, treating my mouth like just another hole.

He fucked me hard, rough, without mercy. I chocked and spluttered as He drove His cock down my neck; gasping for breath as He tightened His belt around neck. In… Out… In… Out… Again and again, over and over. The pressure around my neck making it almost impossible to breath around his cock.

Occasionally he would pull out fully, allowing me a few gasping breaths down my tortured throat before beginning again.

I was losing myself. I was become nothing more than something for Him to use.

Time stopped. The pain in my buttocks seemed to melt away, my jaw no longer ached. Tears still streamed from my eyes, but I barely noticed. This was it. This was that transcendent moment where nothing mattered, I just let myself go and get carried along on the current.

He came. Not down my throat, but across my boobs. I barely felt it, the fire burning in my veins was all consuming.

And then… And then… and then His tongue on my clit, His hands rubbing His cim into my boobs as He feasted on me.

My back tried to arch as I came for the first time. The restraints holding me firmly in place seemed to intensify the power of my climax. I cried a long, silent scream of release, my raw throat unable to produce sound. His fingers inside my cunt, His tongue on my clit, the pain, the power of my release. I was lost, powerless to respond. My consciousness seemed to float outside my body; I was a disembodied observer, watching on with fascination as Master C’s tongue and fingers relentlessly pushed my body beyond any last remaining iota of endurance.

Again, that timeless limbo, accompanied this time by a detachment from reality. How long had He kept me there? I’ve no idea.

The restraints were gone, soothing balm applied to my buttocks numbed the sensation of the soft sheets beneath me, the soft pillow beneath my head as Master C stroked my hair from my face, kissed me tenderly on the lips and slid into me.

He took me, slowly, languidly, but thoroughly. Never losing control, never allowing Himself to surrender to His inner primal animal self. This fuck was for me, to restore me, to bring me back to myself. I found my body responding to His, increasingly moving in harmony. I found the strength to raise my arms, to lift my hands to his buttocks, to slowly squeeze my fingers into his taut, firm flesh to let Him know that He didn’t need to be quite so considerate. I managed a very hoarse whisper. “Fuck me Sir! Your little slut needs to be fucked.”

He smiled down at me and thrust harder. I smiled back then closed my eyes, savouring His firmness inside me, His body on mine. Firm, yet gentle, strong, yet sensual, considerate, but always Dominant, He took me, He fucked me, He rebuilt me and made me whole again.

I came, feeling sore but secure beneath Him. And then, at last Master C came inside me and my worries and cares were banished again.

We had another slow, leisurely fuck this morning and, sore arse and slightly raw throat not withstanding, I’m feeling much more positive today.

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Plans, goals & looking forward


If, at the start of 2020, you had told us we would be spending much of the next year in varying degrees of lockdown, I suspect we’d have thought you were having some sort of sick joke at our expense. Yet, before three months were passed, that was where we were.

Now, as we start another year, we find ourselves pretty much where we were back in March last year. Granted, there is slightly more freedom, there are hopes that vaccines might soon return some of our regular freedoms to us in the not too distant future, and yet, here we are, shut off from each other and unable to do so many of the things that a mere 12 months ago, we took so much for granted.

So what plans/goals do I have for the year ahead? Well, to put it quite bluntly, none really.

I long for the time when Master C and I will be able to meet freely with other members of our “Sharing Circle”, I look forward to the days when I can spend time with “The Girl” or “The Other Guy”, I look forward to being able to go out to the pub, meet then drunkenly fuck random strangers and suffer the consequences for my actions.  I want to travel again; to see new places and revisit ones that I’ve been to before and loved. I want to spend more time outdoors, and for more of that time to be in a climate where I can be naked. I want, I want, I want…

When will these things happen? Who knows? I live simply in the hope and belief that they will, one day, be possible again. Until that day, I have Master C, and for that I am grateful. My plans for 2021, such as they are, are simply to remain His obedient(ish) and dutiful(ish) submissive; to be the partner He deserves and the support and love He needs. I plan to submit to His will, to be nurtured, guided and, where necessary, corrected and disciplined by Him. I plan to suck His cock whenever He permits me. I plan to let Him fuck me, whenever He wants to, in whichever hole He chooses. Most of all, however, I plan to love Him, to give myself to Him and to be there for Him in the same way that He loves, cares for, gives Himself to, and is always there for me.

Master C is my steadfast rock in my see of uncertain waters, and I have no plans for that to change.

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Maintaining me


The prompt on No True Way this week states:

“Maintenance spankings are necessary.”

My submission is a form of self-care, in that I am placing my wellbeing in His hands because Master C knows what support I need and what form it needs to be provided in. When Master C lays his belt on my skin, it is every bit as much for me as it is for Him.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a spanking as much as any nasty little slutty submissive, but when I really need a restoration of my equilibrium, the only thing that will really provide this is His belt.

People looking in from the outside might just see it as a way for Master C to inflict pain, but it is amazing how, in that moment, just how centring and rebalancing a thrashing can be. I literally rediscover myself in the kiss of His belt on my skin.

With each deliciously painful, stinging lash, it breaks me down, allows the worries, stresses tensions and fears to be released and then, when, with the hot tears still stinging in my eyes,  Master C takes me, uses me, fucks me; it rebuilds me and makes me whole again. It restores my being. I need the pain, I need the biting kiss of the leather on my skin, I need the heat as the glow spreads over the surface of my arse; a heat that spreads to my cunt, making me wet and hungry to have His cock inside me.

I realise that people may find it strange, but it is a very basic need within me; the need to be taken apart and rebuilt; a need that Master C knows so well and is most wonderfully attentive to.

When I thank Him (frequently with a blow-job), I am thanking Master C for the pain of the thrashing, the pleasure of the climaxes He elicits from me, and the restoration of self that the combination of pain and pleasure gives me. That “thank you” blow-job is as much a part of the process as the thrashing itself; it is a vital as the fuck that follows His belt and is part of the aftercare. It is where Master C gives me that opportunity to enjoy my newly recentred balance by indulging in something that, in doing it, in sucking His wonderful cock, I derive as much pleasure from as Master C receives in having me suck it.

This year has been so shit in so many ways, and I simply couldn’t have endured it without Master C. He has given me support and strength, nurture and guidance, direction and correction, but most of all He has given me love; He has given me Him. For that I am truly blessed and grateful.

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Punishment: pain or pleasure?


When Master C  spanks/thrashes me it hurts; it’s supposed to; I’ve been a bad girl and He is punishing me for my misdeeds/misbehaviour and punishment is meant to hurt. So yes, there is pain, but that pain gives me intense pleasure.

Being the wayward slut that I am, Master C is never short of a reason to bend me over, bare my arse and apply whatever measure of punishment, delivered by whatever implement He feels is appropriate for the transgression in question. I never challenge Him on it; it His is right to punish me as He deems fit and I have accepted that my actions must have consequences.

Confession time:

  • I have a particular fondness for His belt. I love the sharp stinging pain as it connects with my flesh, and I love the deep, angry red marks that it leaves and that take so many days to heal.
  • I have been know to deliberately misbehave in order to provoke a spanking/thrashing.

Yes, the feel of his hand, or the leather against my skin turns me on, but it is so much more than that. The punishment is, for me, a redemptive act; it is a way of not just earning Master C’s forgiveness, but knowing I’ve earned it. Every time I’ve “failed him”, whether it be not sucking His cock to His satisfaction, to fucking some random guy I fancied in the pub, I know that with every stinging, burning slap or lash, that  Master C is forgiving me as much as He is punishing me.

The mark of Master C’s forgiveness, the badge of His care for me, the sign of His instruction, is the burning red  glow of my well skelpt arse.

So yes, it hurts, yes, it is a pain, but it is a beautiful, restorative pain with an intense deeper meaning that brings me so much pleasure and reassurance.

#MasturbationMonday

Knowing my place


I’ve said it before, and no doubt I will say it again; I am quite unashamedly a cock-loving slut. I love cock, lot’s of cock. I love it in my mouth, I love it in my cunt, I love it in my arse; it doesn’t matter, I will enjoy every lovely inch of cock wherever it is put.

I am, of course, very fortunate. I have a very considerate Master who allows me to satisfy my particular cravings, so long as I am willing to accept the consequences of my actions. I know I will be required to atone for my transgressions. I accept that there is a price to be paid for the pleasure of feeling another man’s cock in me. I know  that the price of my waywardness is to feel the stinging kiss of Master C’s belt on my arse; and it is a price I am willing to pay.

And yet, I know my place. I know the one place where I truly belong. That place is on Master C’s cock.

For all that I enjoy the novelty of being with a new partner. For all that I crave that heady (and indeed, hedonistic) rush that comes with being so turned on, you just want the guy you are with to take you and use you right there, in that instant. For all that I love the excitement of having a stranger’s cock inside me; the one cock I will always crave, the one cock that does the most wonderful things to me, the one cock that I know every inch of, every bump, every ridge, every vein is the cock that belongs to Master C.

Master C’s cock is the one that claims me, completes me and truly satisfies me. Master C’s cock is the one that will make me moan and sigh in ways that no other man will ever hear. Master C’s cock is the one on which I ultimately belong; feeling its oh so achingly familiar length, thickness and hardness inside me.

Yes, I am a slut. Yes I love cock. And yet I still know my place; and that place is on Master C’s cock.

#MasturbationMonday

Sometimes, I just need a cuddle


I love the affirmation of feeling Master C’s lovely, thick, hard cock thrusting inside me, filling me until He releases deep inside me. I love the closeness, I love the intimacy, I love the feeling of Master C claiming me and taking me. I love to fuck and I love being fucked, but sometimes all I really need is a cuddle.

This is especially true at the moment. On account of having a filthy cold, I’ve not been feeling particularly carnal, but I have been in need of a lot of cuddles. Fortunately, Master C is an exceptionally good cuddler.

Whether a cuddle leads to a fuck, is the result of a fuck, or is simply just a cuddle, it has the most amazingly restorative effect.

It’s the feeling of security, it’s the feeling of closeness, it’s a connection with the person doing the cuddling. There is an intimacy and a trust inherent in a cuddle; a sense of belonging and a feeling of being wanted.

The intimacy and, for me, the sense of feeling protected is intensified when the cuddling is done without clothes. The feel of Master C’s warm, firm, strong body next to mine gives me a sense of wellbeing. In a way I draw strength from the additional closeness. Feeling the strength but tenderness of His arms holding me, surrounding me, reassures me and makes me feel cherished and wanted.

In its own way, a good cuddle is even more intimate, even closer than sex; and even on those rare occasions when I’m not in the mood for fucking, I’ll never turn down a cuddle.

#Masturbation Monday