I received a postcard..

Think associations..

I received a postcard..


This cheerful young animal is
enjoying life in the long grass and
glad to smile at the cameraman.
The true essence of what it means
to be a young  ... just radiates
from its little face..


The words made me think of a beautiful, though slightly childish description of a submissive woman..

Actually it is an extraordinarily silly description, in a postcard from New Zealand, of a sheep!!

So, the comparison to a submissive woman, well, I don't think it stands comparison. I hope not..

Another evening in the sofa..

The story so far: I hated my sofa when I was married. I ended up in it every night, next to my now ex husband, and it took me only 20 minutes to fall asleep, so so sad.. I then thought, that I had to do something, to make me more available to him. (In this connection, only a metaphor, never any wishes for anything kinky from him apart from the missionary position in bed, and if it was a real party, from behind, with us both laying on our sides..)

Available, yes, so I started to crochet.. At least it kept me awake, if he wanted to talk with me, about anything, everything? He didn't, ever, but at least I got to crochet a lot of very nice scarves, and a big blanket.. (Do you have any idea, how long it takes to make a blanket!!!)

Well, the sofa setting now is a bit different from then. Last evening, I was lying with my head in his lap, tired, long day, a lot of worries and considerations. I love to lie with my head in his lap, it is safe, comforting, and I love the feeling his hand softly on my hair.

Almost half asleep I suddenly felt, how his hand tightened his grip around my hair, and as a small warning, I felt a slap of his hand, on my cheek. After that, holding my breath, more slaps in my face, on each cheek, harder.. I lost my breath, felt how he pulled me over his knees, lifting up my skirt, finding my cunt with his fingers. Very clearly he wasn't quite satisfied with the degree of moisture there, so I felt the first stinging stroke with his hand on one buttock, hitting my still sore bruises from last weekend.. A loud sound came out of my mouth, and I felt how my cunt rewarded the stroke..

"Quiet, Slut, I don't want to hear another sound from you tonight."

After this, he hit me with his hand, over and over again, my heartbeat racing off, and my body wanting more. And more..

I love my sofa now..

Statistically significant..

We have been practising this weekend, with marks and bruises. Practice is always a good thing, and one has to test different methods and possibilities to be able to draw scientific conclusions. And as I am scientifically schooled and trained, I am more than willing to participate in such scientific tests..

We tested different implements and remedies, compared to the power behind the strokes..

Our scientific conclusion, of course statistically significant and thoroughly tested is, that it is with marks and bruises as it is with different clothes labels. There is just some brands of better quality and longer durability.

I think I will name his cane and from now on call it only "Gucci"..

Just an intersting angle..

To what is seen when hiding in the shadows.. I wonder what he will do, next..

A Slut to be labelled..

I knew the evening would be an evening without me wearing my knickers. I had put on the new, long, black dress, very fashionable, yes, but I chose it just as much because I know, that it falls very flattering around my buttocks, and shows the curves off very nicely, through the thin fabric.. I had chosen it because I know, he enjoys looking, and because I of course like to be admired.. Chosen it because it very easily shows off, with a hand put on the right place, that I wear no knickers at all..

 

 

I took off the knickers standing in front of the elevator. I showed them to him, and took the elevator up to the party, we were going to. I felt, standing in the elevator, how my cunt got moist and wet, and I felt the cool air around the lips of my cunt, walking out of the elevator. All night I felt the moisture between my legs, felt the horniness, and felt the nervousness wondering, if I would get so wet, the fabric would show a stain..

 

 

We came home late, tired, filled with food and drink, happy, not having been together for 5 days. I also knew, that we were too tired for there to happen anything sexy, going to bed. I hadn't calculated with my restless sleep all night, feeling his hand on my erect and sensitive breast nipples, or between my legs, in his sleep feeling the moisture of my cunt, and the soft groove between my buttocks.. A very restless night, many times awaken, feeling the lust rushing through my entire body..

 

 

Morning.

 

 

3 orgasms flushing through my body, the first one, that should have been a quite one, decided the number of strokes with the whip. 35 strokes, that ended up with many, many more.. But before I was allowed to feel the first stroke of the whip I was made to lay in the bed, like the horny slut I am, with my heart beating fast, waiting..

 

 

Waiting for the whip, with one end like a tawse. Waiting and finally redeemed with hard beats, making red marks on my buttocks, on top of the old bruises. The old bruises that are now just a bit faded.. Red marks that I know, quickly disappears again, even though I wish, they would stay..

 

 

Red marks, that I allowed myself to suggest, could be supplemented with strokes, using my leather belt with little metal plates on.. A kind suggestion, that he might feel inclined to use, if I am lucky. Because what if I don't get any marks? So that there soon is nothing to look at, strolling past a mirror? Such worries, a pain slut can have..

 

 

Well, if I am lucky, I will get spanked for having those worries. After all, there is fortunately nothing to worry about..

 

 

A real dream..

He had a dream. One of the real kind pf dreams, a nightly dream, a dream of the kind, that your sub conscience boils up for pleasure and diversion, when you are supposed not to experience anything, but just collect energy and regenerate brain cells.

 

 

I have been allowed to tell about his dream. It is not necessarily an example of how my Mr. sees the ideal world, nor me, but I think it is a nice little picture of a kinky dream, and I have been permitted to.. (And if I give the story too much of an artistic twist he will certainly find a way to put me straight.. But, I don't twist it..?)

 

In his dream he meets a woman, a doctor, who knows the cure against female horniness. He meets her on a hospital, where female horniness is treated. In my head I see a hospital like the ones you see on films, a tall yellow brick building with wooden squared windows, in the middle of a beautiful an picturesque park. A nice place, well accomplished to treat ailments of any kind..

 

He is allowed to enter inside the building, and he is introduced to the doctors idea, how she treats her patients. He sees her standing in a room with a clip board, very professional, wearing a nice little suit with a short skirt, a knot tying back her hair, shoes with high heels, in control..

 

The method she has discovered, can cure female horniness, is to tie them up. spank them, and then letting them suck a cock afterwards.. He allows himself to make the remark, that he is in doubt if this method is the right way to do it, if the cure is really efficient, but she is certain of it. She says: "I will show you, how it is done.."

 

In the room there is 25-30 women. They are all tied up on hands and feet, their hands on their backs, and the wrists, tied up with chains fastened to the wall behind them. This prevents them from moving forward in the room. They are standing in a semicircle, and in front of them are 4, maybe 5 men. The men each have a cane in their hands.

 

Before the punishment and the cure can begin, the men each receives a hard stroke by the cane, on their bottoms, by the doctor. They are all not very pleased about this, them wanting no cure. But the female doctor claims it is a necessity, to put them in the right mood..

 

Not the treatment starts. The women are naked, very clearly horny, standing on line with their tied up hands and their chains, pushing each other with their bodies to get to the men, to be one of the ones, who are allowed.. Women pushing each other, fighting, who can't get in front to the men with their canes and erect cocks, because the chains doesn't allow them to.. So filled with lust, all of them.. And they have to wait their turn, to feel the wanted hits of the cane, and the reward afterwards..

 

 

I have to agree with my Mr. in his dream, I am not sure, that the treatment with will be efficient..

 

For everyones taste..

Actually I promised myself, that this would be a blog of a certain standard, so to say, that I wouldn't show any pictures of cocks.. Of course, I will without another thought use the word "cock", and I can easily describe different kinds of perversities, that would give a lot of people blushing cheeks and red ears, but I am proud to say, that I try to do it with a certain kind of style. The kind of style that will make a girl stride around with nose up the air (that doesn't sound very submissive, oops).

Actually I like a good picture of a cock (I would be a hypocrite claiming otherwise), but that is a subject of another blog entry.. And perhaps I better not touch the subject of what I like about a well shaped cock and what I like to do with it, that might not sound very submissive either..

Well, I am beating around the bush (anyone who needs a good spanking in bushes?), here is my point. I am breaking my own, unwritten rule of not showing a picture of a cock. I am doing it because I hope a Domme might be stopping by, (or perhaps a switch m/f), and that person might just like to see a picture like this.. Lots of pictures like this with Dom men, but this picture is a bit special.. Notice the legs of the woman, ordinary womans legs like mine, which of course is what immediately springs to mind..

Limits of pain..

A pretty ordinary headline when the subject is BDSM, limits which has to be pushed, limits one wants pushed, are scared to push, limits to be found..


Luckily, no ones limits are quite the same, and what perhaps sometimes might be a cliché in the BDSM world in general isn't, when it comes to the individual experience. At least not, if it is one of the good experiences..


I thought a lot about where I am situated in the world of limits of pain. I always saw myself as a bit of a weakling (I don't like to talk about myself as a wimp, but translated this is probably what I mean). I have thought even longer about if I, when it comes to receiving pain and wanting pain, am of the "hard-core" kind of persons, or if I am still a weakling, like when I hit my pinky toe against the corner of a table leg, and tears roll out of my eye sockets..


I have been looking around the internet, and seen amazing pictures of stripes on asses, where blood is drawn and almost running (I am not there, yet?), or pictures of asses mostly rosy colored, and where the color quickly disappears.. (I have always been more than that).. I have a Danish blog, too, and in Danish there is no such proper word for it, but in English it is easier to describe, what I am. I am a pain slut, and the further down the road, Mr. and I thread, the more obvious to me it is.


Yes, I am submissive, too, and I will follow his wishes no matter what he asks of me. I have great confidence, that he knows my absolute no-go's, and that he will not try to push me to doing what I can't. But mostly, I am a masochist, I want the pain, the whip, the cane!!, so it aches all the way into my soul.. 


When it comes to the strokes themselves in a spanking being hard or hard enough it is of course obvious, that it is not the force applied in each stroke, that makes the difference, what makes the difference is, that it is the right force and the right number of strokes, in a given situation. On the bottom line, even for a pain slut with a red-and-blue-striped bottom like mine, the slut will always wan't just that little bit more. Alt least afterwards..


Last night..


We watched a few more or less silly TV programs, who ever thought it was nice to sit and watch quiz game shows with an actor from a B-movie and a white hair-dyed radio studio host saying silly things on TV!! ( I will of course immediately send my apologies to those of my readers who actually think that this is good entertainment for a Friday night). On the other hand I can always polish my self righteous angel halo thinking, that I am better off and smarter than all the people who actually enjoys that kind of TV..


In the sofa, sitting close, 5 days since we were last together, 5 days of missing him.. Soft kisses, my heart pounding, just nice, a bit exciting. Especially because I in the back of my head remembered what I wrote in the good night texted message the night before.. On writing knees I begged him for the pain, promising: "I will do anything, be so quiet, if you just please would.."


"Slut, in a few minutes I will ask you to go downstairs to get the cane. And then I want you to do exactly what you promised me, you would. I do not want to hear a sound from you.."


I was placed in the sofa, first laying down flat on my stomach, but, not good enough..


"Slut, get op on your knees, point your ass towards me, and spread your legs just a bit more.."


No warm-up. I felt the cane, again and again, making exactly those parallel stripes on both buttocks, I wanted.. And in the middle of the pain the knowledge, that the pain doesn't lessen by more and more hits, nor by the fact that I am in subspace.. The pain for me is just as present and sharp with each hit that I receive, and so is the knowledge that I still want more, want to feel more, take in more.. The knowledge that I want to and can show him, that I can take what ever he gives me, that I am proud of it, that I want it, that I want him.. But also the knowledge that I desperately want the marks which the cane leaves on my buttocks. The marks which are his way of marking me on the outside as well as on the inside, the marks that makes me so proud, that I have to watch them again and again, the swelling, the tenderness, the colors.. 


The marks from last night an hour later were beautiful, striped, closely placed, centrally on the buttocks, so that it still hurts, badly, or nicely, every time I sit down. Today they are colored like blueberries, big, and confluent. They are of the kind I can enjoy watching for more than a week..


Last night I first got the cane, then soft, tantalizing, exciting touches, his tongue, my reward. And then, I got the cane, again.. And I was quiet..


Last night I took more than I ever did before.. And I am happy..

A picture..

I am sitting on a chair in the bedroom. Because he has seated me there..

I am still wearing the dress I bought for the occasion, for a Friday night without our children. The dress is short, it only goes down to the middle of my thighs, when I am standing up, and it is even shorter, when I am sitting down. With black and white stripes, a soft material that clings to my body, and a cleavage that is very flattering to my tits.. (You can tell, this is written by a woman, who else would go to such details with the dress..)

I am sitting on the chair, an ordinary, white painted kitchen chair, not very comfortable, it is not meant to be pleasant. I am not wearing any knickers, I have been told not to, and I love the sensual feeling of my always shaved cunt, brushing against the fabric of the dress. My legs are dressed in stockings, but my black stilettos have been removed. I haven't been allowed the dignity in knowing that I have very beautiful high heels on my feet.. I am sitting on the chair with my legs spread out, as he arranged them, the dress so short now, that my cunt is very visible, with the lips red and just a bit swollen. What is not seen in the picture, a well placed butt plug, I was told to put there, myself..

I am blind folded, with a black leather blind fold that fits perfectly around my eyes and nose, making everything black as coal, and all other senses, smell, touch, sound, even stronger.. He has put on my collar, the wide, black leather collar with the metal rings around it, the rings he puts to use when he ties me up.. He has pushed the dress way down, so that I am showing both my tits. He has put metal clamps on both nipples, the clamps are like crocodile teeth, they have small sharp teeth, hurting my sensitive skin. To the clamps are attached metal chains, that are fastened to the collar, the chains lifting up my tits and pulling my nipples..

I am alone in the room, and visible in my face, pain. I am waiting..

And I have the picture to prove it..

Sharing a picture I found

Browsing through a lot of tumblr's. A lot of pictures all the same, tits and cocks jumping up my face, when I lurk around.. Not perhaps quite my likings, but I have chosen to go look around, so only myself to blame.. or, well, hmm, can't say, that a cock isn't my liking, wouldn't quite be truthful.. And I also like the curves of a beautiful tit.. Anyway, while seeing through all the rather explicit pictures, once in a while something different and beautiful pops up..

The Sunday Run..

I really had the most lovely weekend, a weekend where love and closeness was in the center of everything..

 

I also had the pleasure of my Sunday morning run, as usual. Sunday is the day I run my 5 km. I would love to run (jog) more often, but my children still are of an age that means, that I can't run and leave them alone, while they sleep. And 9.pm is the only time in general, except for weekends, where I have time for running. But well, never mind, I don't think it is much fun to run looking like mine worker, wearing a helmet with lights on..

 

This is what happens on my Sunday run (yesterday, too):

 

- Music in my ears. If I get started with one the right song from the 80'es, I fly, almost (not much flying doing 5 kilometres in 31 and a half minutes..)

 

- Reflections on different problems, challenges, shopping, notes "to do" (better to do it running, than during sex?)

 

- What to write in my next blog entry.. (Too bad that the endorphins does something to my memory after about 25 minutes, so that I forget all the golden sentences I thought of.. and the "to do's"..)

 

- Kinky fantasies, reliving the mornings wonderful experiences with Mr.. (And here the run usually gets a bit faster again..)

 

- While running, serious ache in my stomach muscles yesterday, not from sex or running, but after the laughing fits I had Saturday, going out with Mr..

 

Interjected sentence:

Had laughing fit, seeing him estimate what time it was, looking at the sun. Until I saw the clock on the wall, hidden behind a tree for me, but not for him.. Another laughing fit during dinner in the middle of a crowded restaurant. He told me the story about his mum, who always after a nice dinner wanted a good taste in her mouth (something to do with chocolate). I very loudly asked, if she meant good taste by sucking cock..

 

The run, to be continued..:

 

- From every step I take, I feel the tenderness and ache from the marks he put on my buttocks, this Sunday morning, too (So much for my resolution about no kinky sex this weekend. No such thing, luckily..)

 

But, I am still considering, if I shouldn't choose a different kind of breakfast before the run than 3 mugs of coffee with milk, a bit of fruit and an orgasm..

The scare of a lifetime..

This is a post, which isn't about sex, but just about an ordinary life with ordinary worries, and a bad scare..

It is not that I want to be theatrical, sorry, but this morning I lived through one of my life’s biggest worries. For 24 hours I couldn't get in touch with Mr., he didn't answer is phone, he didn't respond to my mails or texted messages, and he didn't contact me, either. He always do that during the day or night, at least to say "Good Night.." I took the consequences this morning the only way I could, and drove the very long drive in morning traffic to his apartment, instead of sticking to my planned "working-at-home-day". And on that drive, I lived through all the worst fantasies a very imaginative female brain can accommodate, about death, accidents, misery, that he didn't want me anymore, and many many other thoughts..

Luckily it turned out, that it was just a change of phone companies that had happened 10 days earlier than expected. And that he just hadn't been on-line last night, but doing other things. I complete collapsed, when I saw him safe and sound in the apartment. And I scared him just as much, when he all of a sudden was standing with a weeping and shivering woman in his arms, her being completely out of control..

My point isn't, that you should pity me (even though I of course was pitiful :-D). My point is to forward the thought, that life in all senses pass, and that it is so important to enjoy life and each other, while we have it..

Very trivial, I know, I am sorry, but when you for less than half a day ago has been so scared of losing your love as I was, focus has a tendency to move a bit.

I will this weekend forget clearing up, cleaning, and laundry, and instead enjoy a weekend without kids together with my love, with lots of emotional intimacy, and I will even lay away some of the kinky fantasies.. I know that sounds a bit naive (I mean forgetting the kinky fantasies), and quite impossible, too? If interesting things happen they will of course be very welcome, me being a Slut..

But my primary focus this weekend will be on just being together with Mr., turn off the television and the computer!!!!!, and simply enjoy the company of my love.

No news from me this weekend is good news..

My red fuck shoes..

After I bought them, he gave me a gift of 32 parallel stripes (there was to be 30, something to do with my counting wrong, he said..), made by the cane, on my ass..

Late night visit..

I had a visitor at 2 o'clock last night..

I am a bit annoyed, that I sleep the way I do, deeply, but always aware of any sound, after years and years listening for a dreaming child, for cries, or any other sound indicating, that the children need their Mom..

I heard him coming through the front door, I knew, he had plans to come, but I fell asleep so late in the night I thought, he didn't want to bother after all. It is difficult to get to my place in the middle of the night, no subway trains nearby, and last night not possible for him to take the car..

But he came, and I felt the smile spreading on my lips, hearing him, hearing him quietly walk around in the house, taking off his trousers in the hall, perhaps to prevent me from waking up. And, I expected, to come to bed and go to sleep quickly, as he usually does, without much hanky - panky, at least at that time of night.

"Be quiet, slut,  not a sound.."

His hands, caressing my ass, the room completely dark, but I still knew his voice, the feeling of him, his body behind mine..

"If you mumble as much as a word or a sound, you know, what is waiting you.."

His hands knowingly examined the depths of my cunt, the lips and the soft skin, he felt my moisture, and suddenly he pinched my nipple so hard, that a stifled murmur came over my lips.

"Quiet now, slut!"

I felt his hands gripping hard around my mouth, the other hand touching my clit so hard, it almost hurt, but also aroused me even more, and made me even more wet. Another sound came out of my mouth, without me even noticing, it was on its way..

His hand immediately stopped its titillating touch, and now followed searing, burning beats on my buttocks, by his hands. I tried hard not not wiggle and moan, and he just kept on marking my skin, making my buttocks red with his blows, again, more..