Master C’s belt


I both fear, and love, Master C’s belt.

I fear it for the pain it will cause me; the delicious agony of my flaming red arse cheeks as Master C punishes me for my various transgressions. I always know when I’ve done something that deserves the belt; I know when to present myself, arse bare, bent over, waiting for its chastising kiss. There is no escaping it. There is no point trying to resist it. When the belt is due, the belt will come, and I will bear it and endure it like the chastened little slut that I am. Forced to count the lashes, desperate to hold back the sobbing tears; Master C will thrash me until my defiance is beaten, my transgression punished, my submission complete.

Yet, for all that I fear it for the pain that it will inflict, I also love it.

I love it when Master C uses it to bind my wrists together as He fucks me from behind. I love the way it digs into my skin, tightening as I struggle against its binds; holding me in place as I endure the pounding of His cock in whichever hole Master C has chosen to take His pleasure from.

I love it when Master C fastens it around my neck, pulling it tighter as He fucks my mouth, forcing His cock deep into my throat. I love how it constricts around me, choking me, denying me air as Master C force feeds me His lovely cock.

Most of all, however, I love the way it marks my pale white skin, branding me; a mark of Master C’s ownership, his domination, his mastery of me.

For all these reasons, and more, I love my Master’s belt; but behind that love, the fear remains.

#MasturbationMonday
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Thoughts of summer sun


As the winter has dragged on interminably and the daily temperatures have struggled recently to make it above 0℃, my thoughts have been turning to warmer, sunnier climes.

I love feeling the heat of the summer’s sun on my body. As a child, and until she passed away a little over ten years ago, a large part of my summer’s were spent with my cousins at my Nonna Serena’s villa in the outskirts of San Cataldo in the heel of Italy. When the cold Scottish winters bite, I often dream that I’m back there, lying about in the sun, walking in the shade of the market stalls or swimming naked in the clear blue Adriatic sea.

I love feeling the warmth of the sun all over my body as its heat sinks into my skin. I love the comfort of being naked in the heat of the sun, with the gentle breeze from the sea keeping me cool.  I love to have the water lap against me, the ripples stimulating my nipples and labia as I swim.

Even when circumstances dictate that need to be more modestly attired, there is, however, one item of clothing whose services I am willing to dispense with when the temperature soars, and that is my knickers.

Now, some would say I’m willing to dispense with them pretty much any time, and that is, of course, very true. When the sun beats down, however, going “commando” beneath a light summer skirt or dress is a simple pleasure that I will avail myself of at every opportunity. There’s something about the feeling that I find delightfully refreshing, and it’s so much more comfortable too.

And while I’m sitting there in a café or bar, demurely sipping an espresso, it gives me so many opportunities to surreptitiously flash my cunt at any good looking guy who takes my fancy, and of coarse, earn myself a thrashing from Master C‘s belt for being such a shameless, cock-teasing slut.

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday

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.

The multi-purpose arse


I quite like my arse. It’s not in bad shape, I don’t have too much cellulite, and it gives me something comfy to sit on.

Master C loves my arse. It has, according to Him, the perfect consistency for squeezing, and He does that at every opportunity.

I also love the things Master C does to my arse. From the way He grabs it, particularly in public; a gratuitous display of affection, to the way He spanks it with me bent over his knee. From the way He abuses it with His belt; leaving stinging red welts that make it painful to sit afterwards, to the way He fucks it.

My arse is frequently used and abused. It faces regular spankings, paddlings and thrashings when I transgress against Master C’s discipline. It gets fucked regularly as Master C uses me as His filthy little slut. It also gets squeezed and caressed in frequent spontaneous displays of affection.

Arses are extremely versatile, and are certainly not just for sitting on.

The one where Morag gets herself Royally Fucked!


So, as I mentioned last night, I was under explicit instructions from Master C to “enjoy myself”. Suffice to say, I most very certainly did.

I won’t bore you with the earlier part of the evening, it was just your fairly typical girl’s night out; drinking, dancing, outrageous flirting and discussions about our live/sex lives and gossip about who is fucking who. It’s what we girls do.

OK, so the outrageous flirting is kind of peripheral to the main event of this post, but I’ll cut to the chase.

The evening proceeded in the way such evenings do and, at some point towards the end of the night, I found myself behind the club, sucking on a nice thick cock.  I will freely admit that this is not an uncommon occurrence when I go out drinking.

What I hadn’t counted on was the fact that at some point during the proceedings, he would text his friend to come see what he was doing.

With hindsight, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised at this turn of events, if anything, I guess, I should be more surprised that it hasn’t happened before.

Needless to say, after servicing the first guy, I barely had time to lick my lips and catch my breath before I found myself sucking his friend’s cock too.

If I was randy at the start of the evening, by the time the second guy had pumped his load down my throat, I was ready for anything. While I’m not averse to fucking in dark lanes, I’d already spent enough time on my knees on a cold pavement and, well, if a girl is going to get herself double-teamed, she might as well do it somewhere where the participants can take the time to do it properly. Suffice to say, this slut ended up going back to a flat with them (texting the address of where I was to Master C for safety reasons), and that’s where the fun really began.

I’m not a stranger to threesomes, but it’s been a while since I last participated in one. There is something particularly cunt-drenchingly hot about having your body explored by two pairs of hands, being kissed by two sets of lips. If either of them noticed the dried in cum coating my boobs, they never mentioned it as they kissed, licked, sucked and fingered me.

What happened for the next couple of hours is a bit of a blur. I was groped, fondled, licked and fucked extensively. There is something so deliciously satisfying about sucking on one lovely thick cock while another equally delicious cock is pounding you hard from behind. What made it hotter still was that they changed places frequently, letting me taste myself on the cock in my mouth.

The names they called me as they fucked me made it better still. “Dirty slut!” or “Filthy whore!” or “Cock hungry little bitch!” In truth, I was all of those as they fucked me, used me, took their pleasure from me. And I loved every thrust, every lick, every slap, every tug of my hair, every load of cum that they dispensed.

By the time we had finished, Master C’s load was only one of several that I was wearing. Before I left them, I had had cum on my face, cum on my boobs, cum on my belly, cum on my back, cum on my arse, cum pretty much everywhere. I was pretty much a walking mess of cum with a decidedly sore jaw and an extremely well fucked cunt.

Retiring to the bathroom, I sent Master C a photo of my cum coated face and another of my very tender cunt. And I felt a warm glow when His reply, “Good little slut!” came through.

I was still buzzing when I got home. Reluctantly washing the dried in cum from my body in the shower only served to get my clit tingling again and, having finally crawled into bed, I used my fingers to treat myself to one last climax before sleep. I was so exhausted that I didn’t even notice when Master C got home and climbed into bed beside me.

Writing this has got me a wee bit worked up. My cunt is drenched again, partially from reliving the events of last night, but mostly in anticipation of the thrashing Master C is going to give me for being such a dirty slut. He decided to take pity on his worn out slut and let me sleep, but did warn me when He left for work this morning that “sleeping on the job” would require some additional punishment when He gets home at lunchtime.

I think it’s fair to say that I’ve earned every single lash of the belt that Master C decides to inflict on me. I hope He gets home soon…

Trust


One of the most important things about being in a D/s relationship is trust. In their 2000 song, Affirmation, Savage Garden wrote the line:

I believe that trust is more important than monogamy

If anything sums up my relationship with Master C, this does.

I am most certainly not monogamous. As I have mentioned before, I am free to fuck other guys, so long as I accept the consequences of my actions.

By way of example, on the night of my work Christmas party, I was under strict instructions from Master C to “enjoy myself” and, it’s fair to say that I most definitely did. I hadn’t gone out that night looking for a threesome with two guys, but when the opportunity presents itself, what slut is going to refuse? I certainly wasn’t going to. Refusing a threesome would probably have earned me a stricter punishment than accepting one.

Of course, being the slut I am, I accepted the threesome and the consequences that would come with it; namely a thorough thrashing from Master C’s belt.

A slut’s punishment should always be proportionate to the severity of her transgression. I had earned a thorough thrashing and for Master C to have given me anything less would have “devalued” my actions and undermined His authority.

And that is another area where trust in a D/s relationship is important. A sub trusts her Master to treat her firmly, yet fairly; punishments must be proportionate to the transgression and rewards appropriate to the service given.