Today I went to hang out at Ma’am’s house with a few other submissives. Ma’am likes hosting us girls at little house in the woods.  She’s one of few dominants I know who likes to surround themselves with submissives and slaves as friends and near equals. At her house, protocol is suspended and we’re allowed to be ourselves as long as we’re respectful.  It’s really just sort of a “Submissive Retreat”.  She calls herself the Hostess with the Mostess and she honestly sees  that we need a little outlet to just be girlie.  We hang out,  and do non-lifestyle related fun things like trips to art stores and pizza parties.

I have to say that every day I think I take a moment to really thank God/dess for her because I think that without her, many of us local gals would have gone stir crazy by now.  A lot of us are full timers and don’t work outside of the homes we keep for our owners.  This means that we may literally not see the outside world for weeks at a time.  (I know that’s true for myself and a friend of mine as I’m not allowed to drive at all and she isn’t allowed to drive without express permission.) Ma’am’s little retreats for us are amazing and mean so much to us.  She opens her home to us and it’s just above and beyond what anyone ever has to do. I think our owners appreciate it, too, because we come back full of joy and giggles, less stressed, and rejuvenated.  And most of all, I think we come home ready to serve with renewed appreciation of who we are outside of our slavery as well as within it.
So that was today.  Ma’am came by to pick me up around 2 PM and we took off to her house were all the girls were showing up  a few at a time.  Pretty soon it was a full house.  We did some girl stuff, had some pizza and then it was 6 PM in no time and my owner showed up to help put together a spanking bench with a couple of other folks while, Ma’am and the other girls took off to craft stores for a little fun time and when we got back, the bench was done and folks were taking turns getting spanked downstairs at my owner’s hand and I was upstairs with Ma’am, talking and enjoying some girl chat.  Pretty soon it was time for us to run home so Master could get ready for work.

When we get home, I was lying on the sofa, regrouping and just enjoying the quiet and Master says “Well, I’ve spanked everyone today except you…”.

He came over to the sofa and gives me a few hard swats on my thigh and we both smiled. He kissed my forehead and went to finish getting dressed.  I followed  and found him sitting on the side of the bed putting on his socks.  I crawled across the floor on my knees, sidled up to him and nuzzled against him, my ass wiggling expectantly.  Master laid his broad arm across me and grasped my waist and with his free hand rained several swats that sent me squirming. He tightened his grip around my waist and leaned his torso against me, locking me into position.  The spanking got harder and harder. I could feel the heat rising on my bottom and the cool breeze of his up swing before the hard swack seconds later gave me just a second’s reprieve between swats.  I stopped counting at 60.  He hits so hard. It was getting unbearable.  I was saying “no… no… Please… ouch!  Damn it that smarts!!” At some point I squealed “Stoooop…” and Master did and said “well, all you had to do was ask”  He grinned at me. And I said “When has ASKING YOU TO STOP ever worked??” and he laughed and said “… But I think you liked it because I can smell how wet you are, you fucking slut…”

He pushed my head into the pillow and shoved three dry fingers into my sopping wet cunt. He tore into my pussy punishingly with his fingers. I instinctively began grinding my hips against him.  He ripped his hand out of me and shoved his fingers in my face, making me lick his fingers.  He smiled at me and grabbed me by the hair so quickly, I didn’t even realize what had happened.  a short drag across the floor by my hair had me on my knees kneeling just beneath his cock.  He was in my mouth in an instant and down my throat hard and rough. I didn’t even have time to acknowledge my gag reflex. Master fucked my mouth  hard and I  thought he would cum, but he didn’t.  His voice was gruff when he told me he wanted my ass.

Master threw me on the bed on my back and stretched my legs painfully until my knees were behind my shoulder and my asshole was displayed.  He spat on my puckering star and shoved his cock into me all at once. He was inside me completely. The pain was intense and I cried out but very soon Master pushed his weight into my body and catching a breath at all became so much of a focus that protesting of any type was out of the question.  When I finally could breathe, the only sounds I made were those indicating intense orgasm.  Master fucked so hard and with such force that I couldn’t think of anything except him. When he came, it was primal. He slapped my face good and hard, and then again and through his clentched teeth spewed the words “Fucking… BITCH…. Good fucking bitch…”  and I was cumming right along with him with the spittle of those words fresh on my face.

When he was done with me, Master went off to clean up and let me there on the bed without a word or a kiss or a gesture of any kind. I smiled to myself and reveled in his use of me.  When my legs returned to a solid state rather than the jellied one he’d left them in, I went to the bathroom and started to clean up. The tear in my asshole was bleeding but not unmanageable.  Master kissed me as he rushed out the door for work. I was still getting cleaned up and he was in too much of a hurry to ask if I was OK, especially when he knew I was.

So now I’m all cleaned up, basking in the afterglow. My asshole’s still a little bloody, but I’m pretty sure it’s going to get the same treatment in the morning including the spanking.

I’ve missed the rough treatment.

I’m glad it’s back.

I’m talented. That’s not a boast; it’s the truth. I’ve studied music both instrumental and voice for about 20 years. I’m a jewelry designer, artist, tutor, graphic artist, and teacher of lost arts, needle working, farm life, etcetera. I’m academically gifted. I’m pretty talented in a lot of areas and boy does Master know it.

All of these talents are the primary reason that Master chose to collar me rather than just keep me as a wife or a girlfriend or lover. These are the reasons he did not choose to keep me free and collar another. At first it was because he was happy to own such a renaissance woman. He liked that I knew a lot about a lot of things. He enjoyed bragging and boasting and showing off my brain. It was fun for me, too, and still is. I don’t say a lot unless I’m asked or in a forum where I can be helpful, but Master will say it for me. “Oh, Kitten knows a lot about that. Maybe she can help.” and he was always proud when I could.

Later on though, Master saw how my talent in multiple disciplines could be a resource for him. He began to recognize networking opportunities, bartering opportunities, and financial opportunities that would revolve around things I could do or things I knew. I’m at home most of the day. Why should I not in my spare time be a resource for him? It became evident that my talents would and should be put to use to the benefit of his networking and his billfold. Now it’s understood that he will earn money and to some degree, reputation, from the fruit of my labors. My talents are his for as long as he owns me.

A few days ago, Master rang me from his work. He had made a deal. I would do some graphic design work for a person he had recently met and with whom he had brokered a deal. I would do a draft immediately with the materials Master sent me via email. At 1 AM I was creating a rough sketch. Now three days later, I have completed the job and Master has collected the money. I’m not sure how much. He may or may not tell me. It’s his money though so it doesn’t matter to me. He gave me praise and tells me how much the work was enjoyed by the person who commissioned it.

While he used to just appreciate these talents, now he absolutely cashes in on them and why should he not? I am his slave. I am thrilled to be of service for him. I’ve tutored people, given instruction of cheese making and probiotic culturing, given art lessons, needle work lessons, all sorts of things. It’s been fun but it’s also made him money and that’s how he likes it. He should profit from allowing others to use these resources he owns.

It took me quite a while to get to this place. It is hard, at first, to understand and then come to terms with the fact that that talents I have acquired through skill, hard work, and dedication to certain disciplines is no longer mine to use exclusively for my own benefit. I have heard of girls being whored out for the sexual needs of others but I think this is different for me. Possibly it’s deeper. I’m not sure how to say it. For me, being told I will sing here, or tutor this person or create art on demand is a more intimate piece of myself that is being shared. Everything I’m good at except sex is what he’s willing to share for the right price. These things, to me, are wholly more intimate than the sharing of flesh alone. Master says it should make me feel valued and most of the time it does. It really just depends on the way things go.

I’m happy that he has found this separate use for me. It’s an interesting thing to become a commodity for trade but to have your body actually NOT be a part of it. Master says he’s never had fantasies about giving away my body, but openly admits that he’s had erotic fantasies about selling my most treasured pieces of art.

Further proof that he knows what makes His Kitten Girl tick.

Isn’t that what it’s all about?

What’s it to ya? (This is a rant)

The whole “Playing without a safeword is stupid” campaign is getting annoying. I was having a conversation the other day with someone who reads my blog and he said “hey, you guys don’t use safewords?” and I said we didn’t. THEN I got about a lecture about safewords. This guy didn’t stop to take a breath while he told me all about dungeon safety and why public play requires safewords and how I really should get a safeword, because what if your hands are tied? and what if you can’t signal him that you’re not okay?? or what if you’re in subspace and you can’t focus or think??? SAFEWORD NINE ELEVEN!!

When he did take a breath I said “We only play with one another. We don’t play in public and He never ignores me when I say ‘my toes are tingling’ or ‘hold on’ or ‘hey that feels not quite right’ We prefer to use regular language and not safewords because it’s what works for us.”

Then he said “Oh… I see…” and then proceeded to REPEAT ALL THE SAFEWORD INFORMATION THAT WE’D ALREADY DEEMED NOT APPROPRIATE TO MY SITUATION!! He was still on and on about safewords when I drifted off into eyes glazing over nod and smile land. This guy was not at all interested in my safeword or lack of one. He was totally wrapped up in his own PSA. I thought the NBC shooting star was going to float by any second. Best part? This guy has been to a dungeon once. He’s never had a long term BDSM centered relationship. He’s essentially a newbie regurgitating information he’s learned online with no regard to application or situational relevance.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I really appreciate when people are generally concerned. I acknowledge their concern and tell them that we know the risks we take and accept them fully. This guy wasn’t open to that concept. After I explained that we weren’t into the whole “ignore the words that come out of her mouth until she says ‘pickled monkey cunts’ ” type of play he gave me the whole lecture again. It totally reminded me of Office Space and the “TPS Reports” gag. YES.. I got the memo.

This is what I find largely unnecessary. This is when I think the PSAs are just a little too much. When people refuse to accept that some folks may play a little differently than they do it’s just really annoying. Sure Saefwords have their place. I’m all for them if that’s your thing but they don’t work for us. I believe if the over the top armchair safety experts in the Safe Sane Consensual camp would pay attention and listen to the RACK, Edgeplay, and Non Safeworded folks, they would see that a lot of us have it pretty well figured out as it applies to our personal dynamics. Not all SSC folks are this way. Some are respectful of the way that the rest of us play, but for the rest, respecting our decisions and realizing that WE are the only ones truly responsible for OUR safety would be a step in the right direction.

And seriously, if you say the “when I read your obituary” thing, I’m walking away…

/rant

We have too much shit.

That’s it. Pure and simple.

And I’m gonna do something about it.

(I mean after I ask if I can do something about it, I’ll do something about if HE says I can do something about it, but you know, that doesn’t sound NEARLY as impressive as the first way I said it.)