Grounded

Syr and I went away this weekend. One of the things I had been so desperately looking forward to was a good, solid beating. Not the quiet, more subtle kinds of pain play that can take me where I need to go, but the raw, earthy good old-fashioned beating.

There’s been so much going on in my life, more than I ever thought possible. So much of this stuff has had me feeling lost and unbalanced, scared and worried. It’s all resolving over time, but the more lost and floundering I got to feeling, the more I wanted to feel the steadying thud of a flogger on my shoulder blades.

I didn’t want to push for it, because the energy has to be right between us for it to happen the right way, but I opened the suitcase and invited Syr to fill it with whatever She wanted for the weekend.

I can’t tell you all how my heart skipped when I saw her pack the leather collar, the cuffs, the nipple clamps, the leash, and the flogger (along with Her two favorite cocks). I knew, then, that I would most likely be getting what I’d so desperately been needing.

Our first night at the hotel, we were both tired and still tense from life these last couple of months, so we spent it bathing and snuggling and doing other relaxing things.

But, Saturday evening..... Syr didn’t hold back at all. She built a fire in the fireplace in our room. She ordered me out of the robe I was dressed in and had me bring back to Her the cuffs and collar. I knelt, naked, at Her feet while She locked the collar around me and strapped my cuffs onto my wrists and ankles. When She pulled the cool chainlink leash out of her pocket and clipped it to my collar, I quivered with the subtle security and subspace that began to wash over me.

I sat at Syr’s feet while She held the leash in front of the fire for some time. When She decided it was time to get started, She turned me to face Her and clipped the nipple clamps on in such a way that the movements of the leash would catch the chain attached to the clamps which sent shivers through me.

I remember that She clipped my wrists together behind my back, and I remember Her tossing me forward onto the bed which put me straight into a gigglefit. It was quite comical – you’d have had to see it.

I remember Her hands on my ass, warming me up there some, and then the kiss of the flogger on my ass, but mostly on my shoulder blades. It begins to blur then. I remember I felt the stings more keenly and there were certain angles that really just didn’t work at all, but over time, the rythmic thud of the flogger swept me away.

I remember that She stopped more than once and laid across my back, biting my shoulder at my neck on each side, and I remember the way that made me yelp and sink even deeper, all at the same time.

And after the pain had brought me to the malleable, floaty place that we both so adore, She pulled me to Her and drove Her cock inside me and took me to a place wholly higher and sharper but still floaty and warm.

And when She had taken Her fill of me, to the point where I could not form words, but could merely point and mumble, She pulled me into Her arms, into that place on her shoulder that is my pillow, and I fell asleep.

It was a wonderful experience, and the following night, I got the nerve to beg a spanking before Syr made love to me, and was so glad I had. She pulled me over my lap and spanked my ass until it was hot and the warmth flooded through me before taking me once more...

Ahh yes...

I am a lucky, lucky slave.

A Perfect Day

This writing assignment's topic was to describe my 'perfect' D/s day.

When I first saw the topic in the notebook where Syr keeps my instructions for tasks, writing assignments, etc, I remember feeling excited.... thinking it was a really fun assignment.

Now that it's time to write it, I'm not quite so sure. ;) It actually seems kind of hard to imagine what it would be like to have a "perfect" D/s day, though I am sure I can give it a whirl. So here goes nothing....

My perfect D/s day would start with a perfect wake-up: Syr waking me by curling into and against my body, covering part of my body with Hers, pinning my wrists above my head and whispering in my ear: "Who owns you, little girl?" and awaiting my sleepy but conscious reply: "You do, Syr."

We would have the place to ourselves, of course, or be in a place where we had no fear of being disturbed by anyone. She retrieves my collar and locks it around my neck, due to our privacy, I will wear it for the day.

Pulling me against Her and wrapping those strong and loving arms around me in an embrace before whispering my morning instructions to make Her coffee and bring it back to Her. I would make Her coffee and my own and bring them back, and kneel at Her feet sipping mine while She sits on the bed sipping Hers and occasionally reaching down to play with my hair or touch my cheek.

After our coffee, She would lead me into the bathroom, help me out of whatver clothing (if anything) that I slept in and help me into the shower.

She would have me wash Her and would wash me in return. I find it interesting that when I wash Her, it feels like an act of service and submission, yet when She does it for me, it feels like an act of grooming, of caring for Her property and feels like an act of Dominance and tenderness.

After our shower, She would instruct me to lay out Her clothes for Her and then instruct me to wear my full length robe, an item of clothing that is comfortable, covers me, yet allows Her easy access to my body whenever She might wish.

Both dressed, we would head to the kitchen for breakfast. Syr likes to cook so She might fix something simple and tasty for our first meal. I would sit at Her feet and She would feed me bits of food from a single shared plate, for very little makes me feel so cared for and so slave-like as being fed by my Syr.

We would spend our mid-day talking or reading, going for walks or whatever suits our fancy. Perhaps our day includes a trip to the local aquarium, an activity Syr enjoys very much, and perhaps as part of that trip, She instructs me to stay in little-space and to be mindful of Her needs while we're out. A simple instruction but perhaps during our outing, Her words stick in my mind and I find myself making sure that She is offered a rest, or a drink, or that I point out things She might find interesting.... and as a result, I find myself staying in a soft level of sub-space all day long.

We return home or back to our private space and I cook dinner... and again sit at Her feet while She feeds me bites as She chooses off of a shared plate.

After dinner, we do something quiet and simple together, like watch a movie or play a game...

And when Syr is ready, She pulls from a pocket or side-table the chain leash and clips it to my collar, leading me back to the bedroom. Once there, She wraps Her fingers in my hair and pulls me to my knees in front of Her.

What She does next could be a myriad of things, but in my 'perfect' day, I would hope it would include her hand on my throat, her hands slapping my cheeks, pain for Her pleasure in the form of spanking, flogging, Her knife, Her nails, clothespins or a myriad of other forms, and Her cock buried deep inside me.

And after She has taken what is Hers alone to take and given what only She can give, She would pull me into Her arms, and whisper words of love and tenderness. And as I curled into Her with my head on Her shoulder, She would tell me a story or read to me from a book so that I could fall asleep listening to the sound of Her voice and the soft beating of Her heart, and I would know that I am safe and I am loved.

"Slave."

It sometimes seems like every day with Syr I discover some new, often incredibly simple yet powerful, route to reaching that deep subspace.

In my previous experiences, it always seemed to get harder and harder to find and maintain subspace of any depth worth mentioning. It became quite frustrating because the harder it got to get there, the more i craved or rather, needed to get there. This used to cause all manner of conflict and difficulties with my partner at that time.

I'm sure that it created issues for them, a sort of frustration when what used to work for them, seemed to stop working as well, and when my needs seemed to increase and their part of it, their job got harder and harder.

My relationship with Syr is quite the opposite. I am often caught quite off guard by sudden and unexpected drops into subspace that plummet me at a pace that is almost dizzying.

The other night, Syr took me there during what would have otherwise been an incredibly fun, yet quite simple, "quickie", by Her words alone.

It started familiarly, as She reminded me who I belong to, words that always take me into a level of subspace...

As She continued, Her words became moreraw, more intense, whispering to me, reminding me that I am Her slut, Her whore, and Her slave...

And then, She made me repeat each statement back to Her. My voice shook desperately as She wrapped Her hands in my hair and demanded I speack each aloud.

Afterwards, SHe honed in on the word slave which, though it describes my role quite honestly, is a word used more rarely by comparison to others in the past. It was the only word She used for teh rest of our time together that night and each time She said it, it took me deeper and deeper.

The words resonated and jolted through me. I still remember the way I reacted with pure raw physical and instinctual shivers each time She growled "cum, slave" in my ear.

Unlike other times, when I am called by that word, I instinctually reply... calling Her Syr without even thinking about it. When I am reminded that I am Her slave, it is only natural to me to call Her Syr.

This may seem simple, but it really isn't. The thing is, that other times, I often have to think about it.. and thinking can be bad. I second guess, doubt, or get shy about using a word that I so desperately want to use.

Yet when she calls me slave, so seriously like that, it's all I can do not to melt into a puddle of slavey goo right there in Her arms, or at Her feet.

I wonder what it is about that one little word, that seems to change the way I function and operate. Because that is surely what it does. I stop functioning as the everyday me. I let all of that go and really allow myself to become the soft, pleasing slave that I dream of being.

I'm sure that it bears further scrutiny, but then again, perhaps in cases like these it is better just to enjoy the lovely simple and pure result of the use of a word that surely speaks straight to my heart.