Call me


I’ve been a way for a while, for a number of reasons; some of them nice, some of them not so much. I’ll leave it there and won’t burden you with the details.

My experience with phone sex is somewhat one sided. It invariably involves Master C phoning me when He is away from home on business and giving me some very explicit instructions.

He will tell me which bits of me to play with; my nipples, my cunt, and what to use; my fingers, a particular toy.

He will tell me how much pressure to apply to my clit, how tight and how hard to squeeze and pull my nipples, how hard and how deep to finger-fuck my cunt and how many fingers to use.

As Master C instructs me, He calls me His “filthy slut”, His “Dirty whore”. I confess that I am. I tell Him how bad I have been, letting Him know how much I need His correction.

He tells me how He will punish me when He returns home; how He will bind and restrain me, how many deliciously painful strokes of His belt I will feel on my arse.

The words that Master C speaks are every bit as arousing as the things He makes me do to myself.

At His command, the silky cold glass plug is pushed up my arse.

Another instruction and I fasten the clamps around my nipples.

My fingers fill my cunt as Master C tells me to fuck myself more firmly; stopping occasionally to be allowed to lick my juices from their surface.

The tension builds inside me as I dutifully follow His every instruction.

Will He give me permission to come, or will He hang-up and leave me waiting for further direction?

My passion flares.

My need for release grows stronger with every second.

Have I pleased Him? Will He let my have my orgasm?

The tension mounts unbearably as I wait for Master C to announce my fate.

Advertisements

Getting the bum(ps)


Today is my birthday. Although it’s rude to ask a lady her age, since I am quite clearly not a lady, I turned 38, in case you were wondering.

When I was at school, there was a tradition of giving someone who was celebrating their birthday “the bumps”. For those not familiar with the term, it generally involved the person whose birthday it was having their friends “bump” them, generally by kneeling them in the rear end a certain number of times, that number being the same as the age attained.

That was the childhood version, of course; now that I am supposedly an adult, Master C has come up with a more “grown up” variation.

This x-rated version of the bumps involves two phases, and as you would probably expect,it also involves me, bare arsed, bent over and bracing myself for support.

So, phase one:

Taking the grooved paddle that I referred to in Punishment fucks, Master C proceeds to give my poor little backside a thorough tanning. Thirty Eight strokes of the paddle, in groups of nine to each cheek, alternating left and right, before a final slap on each cheek rounds off the total. As I count out each thwack of the paddle, I can feel my face turn as red as my arse, I can feel eyes brim with tears, and I can feel my cunt grow uncomfortably wet.

Each stinging slap hurts that little bit more than the last one, each slap makes me cry out a little louder, each slap makes my juices flow that bit more.

“36…”, SLAP!

“37…”, SLAP!

“38…”, SLAP!

With tears streaming down my cheeks, which are as hot and flushed as my buttocks, I allow myself an inward smile; I have endured and I know what is about to come…

And then, phase two:

Master C grips my hips, his cock slides into me with one powerful thrust. The cheeks of my arse throb as He digs His fingers into the tender flesh. A moment’s pause, and then the “bumps” begin.

Master C thrusts into me, hard and deep, pulling me back on to Him. His body slams against mine with every deliciously powerful stroke of His cock. The only sounds to be heard are the slapping of skin on skin as His body repeatedly and forcefully collides with mine, and my moans; a mixture of pain and pleasure as Master C pounds my cunt.

This time I’m not counting the strokes, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Not that there’s any need, Master C won’t stop “bumping” until he’s done.

“Hap… py… birth… day…” He groans, each syllable punctuated with another surging thrust of His wonderful cock deep into my aching cunt.

Suddenly He’s gone. Distantly I hear Him moan. His warm, thick load splatters off my arse cheeks.

As Master C rubs his cum into still tender skin, applying it as if it were a balm to ease the stinging hurt, He kisses me on the small of my back in a way that makes my knees week and my cunt contract, and whispers, “Happy birthday, little one.”

Uh oh! I’m in trouble


“MORAG!” Master C shouts my name from the other room. My full name; not a nickname or an affectionate diminutive or term of endearment, my… full… name…! Clearly, I’m in trouble of some sort, but for once I’m at a total loss as to why.

“MORAG!” He roars again, “GET THAT SLUTTY ARSE OF YOURS THROUGH HERE NOW!”

I walk through to the front room attempting a casual air that I don’t feel. “How do you explain this?” Master C demands, pointing at the laptop screen. Glancing at it, I see my blog on display.

Have I gone too far? have I finally said something He is unhappy with?

I give Him a sheepishly contrite look.

“Don’t come all innocent with me Missy! These comments, how do you explain them?”

I allow myself a little sight of relief. I can’t, after all, be responsible for what my readers write.

“You, you filthy little slut, you’ve been causing inappropriate responses. You’ve been making guys hard. You’ve been making girls wet. You’re a naughty, naughty little slut aren’t you?”

I attempt to sound suitably contrite, “Yes, Sir.”

“What was that?” His hand moves suggestively to His belt buckle.

“Yes, Sir!” I reply a little louder, feeling myself getting wetter.

“Yes, what?”

“I’m a naughty, filthy little slut, Sir.”

Master C unbuckled His belt and began to pull it loose. My cunt contracts.

“Well?”

“I need to be punished, Sir.”

“What was that?”

“I deserve to be punished, Sir, will you please punish me, Sir?”

“Good slut! You know what to do.”

I wriggle out of my jeans, let my knickers slip to the floor. Master C swings His belt I walk to the desk, bend over and brace myself.

“Naughty slut!” He shouts as His belt swings down, cutting into my arse cheeks, making me cry out.

“Filthy slut!” and His belt lashes out again, bringing tears to my eyes.

“Prick-teasing slut!” I feel the leather for a third time. My face feels as hot and red as my arse as I choke back sobs.

“Immoral slut!” Tears roll down my cheeks making them almost as wet as my cunt.

“Mischievous slut!” Despite the pain, my cunt throbs, longing to feel him inside me.

“My slut,” Master C says softly as the belt takes me again. My heart melts at the warmth in His voice.

His hands grip my arse cheeks. I can barely feel them through the stinging pain. His lovely cock enters me and my cries turn to cries of pleasure.

Master C fucks me hard and deep. His cock pounds my cunt. His fingers dig into my raw arse cheeks as He takes me.

He pulls out, I hear him grunt, then I feel his cum splash over my buttocks. “Rub it in, it’ll help soothe some of the pain,” He says.

I do as I’m told, rubbing His rich, thick load into my skin until it dries into me.

“Turn around and clean my cock,” Master C demands. Again I do as I am bid, licking His cock and sucking the last drops of cum from its tip, savouring His manly flavour mixed with my own juices.

Kneeling before Him, I look up to meet His gaze. “Good girl,” Master C says and my heart melts again. ” You can make yourself come now. You’ve been a good little slut and you deserve it.”

Kneeling on the floor, I put my hand between my legs and begin to rub my clit. Master C encourages me with words like: “Good slut!” and “Come for me slut!”

In next to no time, I do just that. I scream as my climax rips through me.

Master C watches me, smiling, and I know that I have pleased Him. After all, he is my Master, and I have promised to obey Him and submit to His will.

Aural sex


For me, sex is as much an auditory experience as it is a visual and physical one. The sounds of sex are myriad; from the barely audible, half murmured sweet nothings, to the triumphant orgasmic exclamations that irritate the fuck out of your neighbours. The best sex, in my opinion, engages all the senses, and that includes sound; a well timed moan from Master C or another partner can be as much of a turn-on as a passionate kiss. Sound has an important part to play at every stage of the process; from seduction to foreplay, through fucking and all the way up to climax and its aftermath.

Seduction:
Sometimes the way something is said is more important than the actual words themselves. The words, “I love you” when whispered huskily in my ear, the desire and hunger for me evident in His voice, can make my clothes vanish every bit as rapidly as a barked command to “Get naked! Bend over! And brace yourself!” Sometimes even a simple enquiry like, “I’m going upstairs to lie down, care to join me?” is enough to have me following Master C upstairs like a puppy, shedding garments expectantly as I go. Ultimately, the mood and desire of the seductee is as important as the words of the seductor. If I’m in a receptive mood, Master C can seduce me with nothing more than a glance.

Foreplay:
This is where sound, be it the spoken word or incoherent exclamations, can make so much difference. Being told how wet I am, how hard I’m making Him,  long with a vivid description of just what Master C intends to do to me, and how hard He’s going to do it, is guaranteed to turn my arousal levels up to 11 and have me begging to be used as His personal fuck toy.

It’s not just about the dirty talk, the commands, and the lurid descriptions, however. As often as not it’s those little involuntary noises Master C makes. The sharp intakes of breath as I drag my fingernails lightly over His skin, the moans as I wrap my lips around His lovely cock, the sounds of my sucking Him, all keep my juices flowing, and let me know how much Master C is enjoying my attentions.

Fucking:
Fucking produces its own delicious cacophony. From the squelching of my cunt, as Master C pounds it with His deliciously thick cock, and the slapping sounds of flesh on flesh, to the creaking of the bed beneath us, and the headboard banging against the wall; they all contribute to the overall experience. Then there’s the moans of pleasure, the increasingly laboured breathing, my increasingly strident demands to be fucked harder and Master C’s equally vocal reminders of what a dirty slut I am. All of these produce a positive feedback loop that intensifies the sensations with every cunt squelching thrust of His cock and slap of His balls.

Orgasm:
I can be fairly loud when I come. I’m not talking porn star banshee wailing, but I do like to give voice to my climax. Almost perversely, sometimes, when I’m being drunkenly fucked in a dark alleyway, and there’s a risk of being discovered, the need to keep quiet so as not to betray my pressence can actually intensify the sensations and make me come even harder; but I digress…

The sounds of Master C’s strained breathing as His climax approaches is extremely gratifying, but the one sound that always makes me melt is when Master C moans my name just at the point He explodes inside me, then calls me His “good girl”. Nothing, and I mean nothing, makes me feel more appreciated as a woman than that simple acknowledgement of me as a sexually being.

The aftermath:
When we’re snuggled together in post-coital exhaustion, sounds still abound. There’s the sound of our hearts pounding in our chests, our breathing slowly returning to normal and the occasional whispered endearments.

From start to finish, sound has contributed to and intensified the sensations, heightening the pleasure for both participants, and yet it is an often overlooked aspect of the sexual sensory experience. For me however, it is an amazingly important element that is essential to my overall arousal and ultimate enjoyment.

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday

Verge


It’s those final moments. Bound, helpless, vulnerable. Completely at His mercy.

He looks at you like a predator contemplates its prey.

You are naked, more than naked; your soul is bared to Him as you endure the intense scrutiny of His gaze.

His hunger is palpable; you can feel it in eyes as they feast on you, devouring you where you lie.

Anticipation builds inside you.

Whatever He chooses, you are helpless to resist.

The clock ticks, seconds pass, each one an eternity as you wait.

You sigh as He traces the contours of your spine with a finger.

You wince as you hear the snap of His belt.

You melt as you hear the words you have been waiting for: “Are you ready, little one?”

“Yes Master,” you reply, and you brace yourself, waiting for the first kiss of His leather on your skin…

#MasturbationMonday

Showing a little restraint


There is something delicious about being completely at another person’s mercy. Throw in a blindfold so that I have no idea what the other person is going to do, and you have an instantly quivering Morag who is just about ready to cum before she’s even been touched.

But much as I enjoy being tied up, I also occasionally love playing the part of the restrainor. It’s a power thing, I freely admit. I find absolute trust to be immensely sexy.  For me, the whole thing isn’t about pushing the other person to the limits of their endurance (and to be honest, I don’t think I could do that to Master C even though I’m sure He is at least physically capable of doing that to me); it’s about trusting them absolutely to know how far they can go.

I enjoy the helplessness of being tied up, gagged and blindfolded; having to take whatever is inflicted upon me, but on those rare occasions when the tables are turned, the feeling of power and control is as much of a turn on as is the helplessness of being tied spread-eagle to the bed and having Master C do whatever He desires.

I know that using just my lips, teeth, tongue and fingers, I can have Master C whimpering, desperate for release in a matter of minutes. What’s more, it is fully in my power to grant or deny Him the pleasure of that release. The restrainor holds all the aces and the restrainee just has to accept whatever is being done to them.  As someone who is usually on the receiving end of such situations, I find these occasional reversals to be extremely arousing. Sometimes the hardest thing in these situations (other than Master C‘s cock) if for me not to release Him and have Him do whatever He wants to me.

I know, from experience, that I can deny Master C for over an hour, teasing and torturing Him with my mouth and fingers until I impale myself on His straining cock and feel his rich, Hot cum erupt inside me with a force that makes my eyes water.  I know that. although Master C is bound and “helpless” in these situations, He is still able to reward me for pleasuring Him.

Similarly, when I am the one being done to, my orgasm is completely in Master C‘s hands, to grant or deny as he sees fit. When Master C has me at His mercy, it is my turn to endure/enjoy the exquisite agony of being entirely under another person’s control.

Silk scarves, ropes, handcuffs, and blindfolds all figure in our restraining of each other. Master C frequently requires me to wear my ball-gag which adds yet another element to it; denying me the ability to verbally articulate my discomfort/pleasure.

So yes, we both like to restrain and be restrained; but great sex is all about exploring the boundaries of what turns us on, and as far as I’m concerned, the sex Master C and I have goes way beyond great.

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday

The first submission


It was a ceremony of sorts; a symbol of trust and acceptance. A sign of my submission to Him.

As He sat, I stood before him, eyes downcast. Slowly I undressed, the removal of each item an acceptance of His claim over me.

Finally I stood, naked, offering myself to Him. Presenting myself to His scrutiny. He told me to turn around. I complied, letting Him study me, showing him the prize that was his.

“Kneel!” Master C demanded, ” You know what to do.”

I did as I was bid. I unbuckled His belt, unbuttoned and unzipped His jeans, reached inside His boxers and released His cock from its confinement.

I took His cock in my mouth, paying homage to it with my lips and tongue. I was determined to show Master C how diligent I could be in the performance of my duties. My mouth’s purpose was to please Him and I yearned to do my best.

As my service to Him brought Him to the point of no return, He pushed me from him. “Have I displeased you?” I asked.

“No, not at all,” Master C replied, “I intend to mark you.”

He stroked his cock, His hand almost a blur. “I am claiming you, Morag,” he groaned, “I am marking you as mine. From this moment on, you are MY slut.”

His cock errupted. His cum sprayed over my face, it trickled down my neck, dribbling on to my boobs.

“Give me Your belt,” I asked in a small voice, His cum drying on my skin. He gave me an enquiring look. “Pass me Your belt Sir, it’s important,” I urged.

Master C slipped His belt from its stays and passed it to me. I accepted it and adopted a position of supplication, on my knees, my head bowed, my hands raised with His belt draped over them.

“I submit to You,” I said, “I submit to You and accept Your domination. I offer You this belt to use for my instruction and correction. I will accept Your discipline as You see fit to dispense it.”

Master C took the belt from my hands. I turned around as He folded it and cracked it sharply together.

I waited. The anticipation built. I heard the belt swish through the air. With a resounding smack, His leather kissed my arse. He became my  Master and He made me His…

One up the bum, no harm done


Sometimes porn annoys me. Actually, a lot of things about porn annoy me; especially the near asthmatic moanings of the female participants. I like to be pretty vocal when I’m on the end of a good seeing-to as much as the next person, but I’m pretty sure I never sound like I’m having a seizure.

One thing that really gets my goat, however, is porn’s depiction of anal sex. Porn, it seems, has decided that:

anal = brutal/violent.

Now, it can be and, if that’s how you want it, great, go for it, but it doesn’t have to be.

My own introduction to anal sex was at the tender age of 18.  Believe me, if I wasn’t tender before, I was most certainly decidedly tender afterwards. I was a student, I was at a party and I was drunk. I was also amazingly randy and the guy to whom I was to give my anal virginity to had spent what seemed like an eternity going down on me and had already reduced me to a quivering orgasmic wreck.

I remember quite vividly the way he had slid a finger up my arse as he ate me out.  The sensations were like nothing I had ever experienced before (simply because no one had ever done it to me before). It felt so deliciously wrong, so incredibly dirty. I came before he’d got much more than one knuckle deep inside me. When he suggested fucking my arsehole I was like, “fuck yeah, let’s do this!”

It was an odd sensation at first, having something as large as his cock pushed up my back passage but once I’d grown used to the unfamiliar sensations, I really got into it.  It’s fair to say that he triggered an addiction in me that is still as strong today as it was back then.

I enjoy getting my arse fucked. It feels wonderfully filthy. It makes me feel like a dirty little slut. It makes me feel like the man fucking my arse is using me. It… Oh look, it doesn’t really matter, I love getting my arse fucked, let’s just leave it at that.

Yes, sometimes I do like my arse to be subjected to a good pounding, in much the same way that I love having my cunt pounded.  By the same token though, sometimes I like a long, slow (but firm) arse fuck. I want the man that is fucking me to take his time. I want him to enjoy the tightness of my arse. I know as his climax grows closer, he will probably fuck it harder and faster, but the same thing applies to when he’s fucking my cunt or my throat.

I’m not saying that anal has to be a romantic experience, I’m not even sure having a man stick his cock where the sun doesn’t shine can be romantic, but it can be sensual, it can actually be quite gentle, and it can, when done properly, be an amazingly intense and pleasurable thing to be on the receiving end of.

Porn, however, has decreed that buggery, to all intents and purposes, must hurt, must be done with the minimum of lubrication and must be done in such a way that the recipient will be unable to sit without the aid of an ice pack for at least the next several days.

I think this is a great shame. It gives men, and women, an altogether wrong impression about anal sex. Men get the idea that, unless they are almost raping the arse in question, they are doing it wrong, and women get the message that it has to hurt, lots!

But here’s the thing, just like any other sexual activity, anal doesn’t have to hurt at all. Yes, fine, so the sensations take a little bit of getting used to, but it only needs to hurt as much as you want it to.

One of the most delicious things for me is when Master C grabs a handful of my hair, whispers something like “I’m going to fuck you in the arse you dirty, little slut”, then slowly, but forcefully pushes His cock inch by inch into my back passage. All the time He’ll be telling me what a nasty, filthy little slut I am as His cock sinks in deeper and deeper.

Sometimes Master C will go hard, sometimes He will go slow, but it will always, always feel deliciously filthy. When Master C fucks my arse he is using me, taking His pleasure from me, dominating me; while at the same time I am surrendering utterly to Him, accepting His mastery over me.

So why do I like it so much? It’s a good question and one that I have been asked on numerous occasions.

Well, for a start, it feels amazing. Despite their proximity, being fucked in the cunt and being fucked in the arse have completely different sensations. That I guess is down to the fact that the cunt is self lubricating and is designed to have a cock in it, whereas the arse isn’t.

Then there’s the fact that it just seems so amazingly filthy and nasty. Nothing makes me feel more like a dirty little slut than having a cock pounding my back passage. It’s a wonderful feeling of being used, being treated as nothing more than a receptacle for the guy in question’s cock. It’s rough, it can be painful if you haven’t been fully lubed up but it is such a wonderful, dirty feeling.

Finally there’s the fact that it satisfies my deeply submissive side. Allowing myself to be taken in this “degrading” way just feels so good. When Master C fucks my arse I am being used for His pleasure. He is taking me and treating me as His slut. My holes are His to use as He sees fit and when He fucks my arse, Master C is taking his deepest, darkest, basest pleasure from me. He is using me and I am His to be used.

If Master C hurts me when He fucks me, that is His right. If, as described above, He pulls my hair and tells me I am a disgusting, filthy little slut, Master C is confirming my status as something to be used but, and here’s the part my vanilla friends find difficult to get their heads around, for me He is doing so in a way that is both positive and affirming. I truly believe that there is nothing more affirming for me as a submissive than having  Master C use me and tell me how much He enjoys using me for his pleasure. When he tells me that my arse is lovely and tight, and how much he enjoys fucking it, it makes me feel good knowing how much pleasure Master C derives from it.

Each of us who enjoy taking it up the arse will have our own reasons for doing so. Some may find a resonance with my reasons, others will enjoy it for completely different reasons of their own.

I also accept that anal is a no go area for many women simply on the grounds that they don’t fancy it, and I get that; sex, after all is a very personal thing and we are all different. I do, however think it is a shame that there are some people are put off enjoying what, for me at least, is a wonderful experience, simply because porn displays it so unrealistically.

The making of me


It will come to no surprise to anyone that I am submissive and that I have been in a D/s relationship with Master C for 15 years. But what exactly does that mean? In particular, since the dynamics of every D/s relationship is different what does being a submissive and submitting to Master C’s will specifically mean to me?

For many who live outside the D/s world, there is a perception that it’s all about, bondage, pain and perhaps the various role-playing subcultures that exist within our particular sexual sphere. There is a fixation on the pain/punishment element without any understanding of how it fits within the dynamic of a particular relationship.

Yes, Master C does punish me and yes, it does hurt; but it is never pain simply for the sake of pain itself.

When Master C punishes me, it is because I have done wrong, transgressed, displeased Him, failed in some way. The punishment is, first of all, appropriate to the level of the transgression; Master C will never use his belt when his hand is more appropriate, and vice versa, and it is always intended as a lesson.

Before I met Him, I pretty much fucked whomever I wished, with no regard to the consequences of my actions. Now, because we are happily poly, I still have the freedom to fuck other men, but now I know that there will be consequences. As a result, I am much choosier about whom I decided to have liaisons with. This doesn’t mean I won’t have a drunken shag with some nameless stranger, but I know that such indiscriminateness will earn me a much sterner disciplining than I would receive if I exercise a modicum of restraint over my need to have a cock inside me.

The discipline serves as part of His guidance. It is part of the way Master C makes me a better person, instilling in me a greater awareness of my own worth. I may not be any less of a slut under His guidance, but I am certainly a much more discriminating slut as a result.

For me, submission to Master C is not an abrogation of self, far from it; it as a confirmation, a validation of my worth as a person. It is a worth that grows under His strict, but fair tutelage. Yes, Master C punishes me when it is appropriate that He do so, but he also guides me, supports me, encourages me, protects me and, most of all loves me. Everything in our relationship is about making me the best person I can be. I have put that trust in Master C because he deserves it.

Master C is, quite literally, the making of me.

Desire


How do we demonstrate our desire for something or, indeed, something? We can drop subtle hints, we can drop not-so-subtle hints, sometimes we can blatantly demand what is required to satisfy our needs and wants.

The “I can’t wait to get you home” when having a meal in a restaurant, the whispered “I want you so badly” when you’re in public, or the barked command to “Bend over!” can all, depending on the circumstances, be equally indicative of desire.

When we write, we use words like hunger, longing, yearning, craving, to indicate that state that is more than just simply wanting. The words we use say a lot about how we express our desires.

When Master C orders me to bend over, I know exactly what He wants. He wants to hurt me, He wants to punish me, He wants to fuck me roughly, treating me as His own personal slut. How do I indicate my reciprocal desire to be treated in such a way? I comply with his demands; acknowledging his claim.

In a D/s relationship, it is easy for the submissive to acquiess to their Dominant’s desires. It is, after all, our duty to do so. But what of the submissive? How do they articulate their desires? How do they illicit the treatment from their Dominant that they hunger for?

That, I suspect, depends entirely on the dynamic of your relationship.

I tend to express my desires by asking if Master C would like me to do something, or if He would like to do something to me.

“Would Sir like to watch me cum for Him?” or ” Would Sir like me to suck His cock?” or “Would Sir care to taste my cunt?” are, for me at least, good ways of indicating what I really want. Of course, sometimes Sir does not care for such things, but that is His right.

Sometimes a more pleading, “Please may I suck Sir’s cock?” is appropriate, especially if I think I may be able to reverse an earlier rebuff.

Of course, because I’m a naughty, insatiable little slut, sometimes I take more direct action. When I really want to be spanked. I’m not averse to informing him that I’ve been a bad girl, baring my arse and bending myself over His knee.

Sometimes though, just sometimes, I pluck up the courage to actually make a demand; usually when His denials have pushed my frustration levels to breaking point. It’s a technique that I employ rarely, when I’m at the end of my tether, when “no” is simply not an option, no matter how disobedience it shows.

I know it’s part of His plan. I know Master C does it to provoke me. I know it shows me for the selfish, disobedient slut that I am, but those occasional, exasperated, “Look Mister, will you just get your arse over here and fuck my brains out with that lovely cock of yours?” are never ignored. Oh. I accept that I will get a thorough thrashing first for my impudence, but in the end, I get what I desire.