My children have a very different life to the one I had. My parents were occupied most of the time and their work ran over a seven day cycle for most of my childhood. I remember some lovely childhood holidays when we managed to relax as a family, but outside of holiday time, every day was a work day.
My natural inclination is to be quiet but as well, I learned early that I must entertain myself. My mother encouraged me to be an active person and I was an active person. I danced my spare time away and there was also the piano. I adored to read. I had good friends. I was happy.
When the children came along, I loved them with all my heart and soul and I wanted them to have my full attention. We did a great deal together. We still do. I think they feel they have a good mother. They made and wrote me a card for my birthday and their messages were full of praise and love. I think I've done a good job with them. They are four stunning human beings.
My husband, for his own reasons, grew up with a strong desire to succeed in life, and he has succeeded. There have been great highs in his career and some disappointments, too. It is his nature to care for us and give to us all that he can. In his efforts to do that, to ensure that the future is secure for us all, he works very hard. He's a very bright person and he chooses complicated ventures. He seems to be drawn to that which is intense and convoluted, perhaps because his mind needs to be challenged. He is, in fact, in a seven day cycle now, much as my parents were. Nearly every day is a work day for him.
I learned very early to occupy myself and I'm good at that. I have plenty of interests and things to do and I never allow myself to be bored. I am what is known as a 'doer'. But, it is more than that. Surrounded by busy people, the thought of being a burden to anyone is perhaps my greatest fear. I avoid it at all costs.
I've been thinking about this; this feeling of being a burden as it relates to the D/s dynamic. For a girl who worries about being a burden, the dominant must understand why she does what she does. He needs to understand why she withdraws if she senses that she is a burden to him. It is not necessarily a rational response and must confuse him, at times.
It's not at all easy for a girl to discuss this feeling. Even the discussion itself implies that she is burdensome, you see. But, if there are dominants out there who think that this might be the case with their girl, a discussion must be had to sort this out. I'm not a professional person and I cannot offer advice. All I can say is that she should be given regular dollops of your love and reminded that she is the light of your life at regular intervals. This should help. Good luck.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Saturday, November 7, 2009
What to do
With one thing and another, it has been a very busy week. And, as well, there was that rather late night chat with one of you last night. You know who you are! So, after lunch today, I found myself tip toeing back under the covers.
Four or more hours later (yes, I was very, very tired) I woke to the sounds of two men discussing a business matter outside my door, as my husband showed the friend to the door. I rallied myself and had a shower and got dressed.
Truth to tell, my man is in a grumpy mood and apparently, I'm being cheeky. I really don't think so. Perhaps, I have not woken sufficiently well enough to pay him due deference. That is possible. Or, perhaps the discussion with the other man has him fired up. That's entirely possible, too.
Now, let's see what I have learned. What does a girl do in this situation? Does she
1) Ask him if he would please relax.
2) Try to be as good as she can be and hope for the best.
3) Offer her owner something that would relax him and put him in a very good mood for a pleasant Saturday evening together.
4) Feed him a lovely steak and salad with a glass of red wine.
Mmmmmm. I just don't know. What do you guys think?
Four or more hours later (yes, I was very, very tired) I woke to the sounds of two men discussing a business matter outside my door, as my husband showed the friend to the door. I rallied myself and had a shower and got dressed.
Truth to tell, my man is in a grumpy mood and apparently, I'm being cheeky. I really don't think so. Perhaps, I have not woken sufficiently well enough to pay him due deference. That is possible. Or, perhaps the discussion with the other man has him fired up. That's entirely possible, too.
Now, let's see what I have learned. What does a girl do in this situation? Does she
1) Ask him if he would please relax.
2) Try to be as good as she can be and hope for the best.
3) Offer her owner something that would relax him and put him in a very good mood for a pleasant Saturday evening together.
4) Feed him a lovely steak and salad with a glass of red wine.
Mmmmmm. I just don't know. What do you guys think?
Friday, November 6, 2009
My overdue spanking
I have, very kindly, been added to the list of spanking blogs over at ‘The Spanking Universe’ and you will note on my blog list that there is a link to that site. I have been getting considerable traffic via that site and I have been a little worried that spanking enthusiasts may be disappointed to note that there hasn’t been a lot of discussion or write up about spanking here lately. It’s time, I think, to rectify that matter.
The truth is that there has been a considerable drop in the rate of spankings at Vesta’s house in recent times. The good news is that this is related to the fact that I’m such a ‘good girl’ these days. The bad news is that I rather miss my spankings and canings, and once my husband has this darn project bedded down, I’m hoping that he’ll find good reason to up the tempo.
I did receive a birthday spanking, of sorts. It was not all that exciting since we were worried about making noise that the children might hear. Yeah. That situation was a bit disappointing. I’m not a spring chicken any more, and the number of spanks would have been fun.
Still, a week before that, I got a marvellous spanking that came right out of the blue...
It was mid afternoon and my husband was working from home. I came into his study to discuss some matter when out of nowhere he stood up, took my hand and led me to the bedroom. I didn’t resist at all, but followed him into the bedroom whereupon he had me kneel in front of him while he sat on the bedroom chair. We were alone in the house, with no chance of being interrupted by any children so we could let the scenario play out any way we wanted. Fun! Fun!
“I’m going to give you a good, hard spanking. You are well overdue. I want you to be a good little girl because I mean to make it hard, to make up for the spankings that you should have had. I think it will help you to behave. But first, I want you to show your respect to Sir.”
He brought his cock out of his pants and had me open my mouth wide to receive it.
“Good little girl. Ohhhhh, yes! That’s right. All the way down there. What a goooood little girl! You have learned to do that very well, haven’t you? Ohhhh and that does make Sir so verrrrry turned on. Mmmmmmmm. I sooooo want to spank your little bottom now.”
Soon thereafter, he stood up and had me lean over the seat of the chair, with my knees on the carpet. He took down my panties and lifted my skirt. He handled me for a while. He likes to do that. Then, he began to spank me until I was warm and finding it tempting to try to move away from his hand.
“No, girl. Not today. You are getting a good, long spanking today, whether you like it or not.”
I was vaguely aware that he moved away from me and seconds later I felt him lift my head, and put into my mouth the black penis gag. He tied it securely at the back of my head.
“Suck on that, little girl. Suck away and get your comfort from the cock in your mouth cunt while I thrash your ass.”
I did as instructed because he was quite right. I do get a lot of comfort out of that penis gag and it certainly takes me in my mind to a very submissive place. I’m not exactly sure how he had placed his body. I didn’t look but I suspect he was standing beside me so that he could swing back easily and sort of ‘cup’ my bottom cheeks.
At some stage I became aware of the blistering heat on my tail and I stopped sucking in order to do my best to scream out through the gag. Of course, this resulted in nothing more than muffled groans and moans. I felt his hand come down firmly on my back and make resistance impossible.
“You’re not going anywhere, little girl. You’re getting a good, hard, long spanking. Just suck away. Suck away and settle in there.”
His message of resolve was convincing and I forced my mind back to where it needed to go. I sucked on the penis gag with vigour whilst he continued to beat my bum; left to right, left to right. The heat was increasing and as it increased in crescendo I became aware of a sensation that is rare for me.
I was welcoming the sensations; the pain, the heat, the fact that he had resolved to take me to a more accepting (and fulfilling) place. I don’t know if I would exactly describe it as pain turning into pleasure, but I felt no resistance; no desire for him to actually stop. I was revelling in it and so, it seems, was he.
Finally, of course, he did stop. I could hear myself gasping for breath; sucking, then gasping; gasping then sucking. He rubbed his warm hand over my tender cheeks; felt about between my legs to confirm for himself, I suppose, the effects such handling has on me.
“Good little girl. You took your spanking very well. That should keep you centred for a while.”
He returned my panties to their rightful place; pulled down my skirt.
“Up you come. Now, where do you need to be?”
“I have to go over to school now?”
“Ah yes! Well, off you go now or you’ll be late. But, first of all, what do you say?”
“Thank you for my spanking, Sir.”
“What a polite girl! You are welcome. Off you go!”
The next few days were bliss. Every time I sat down or lifted off my seat, every time I rolled over in bed, I was aware of my state and loved it. I loved that I’d been handled. I loved that he would do this for me and to me. I loved that I was an owned girl. I loved that this could happen even when I’d been so good.
Gosh, but it was fun!
The truth is that there has been a considerable drop in the rate of spankings at Vesta’s house in recent times. The good news is that this is related to the fact that I’m such a ‘good girl’ these days. The bad news is that I rather miss my spankings and canings, and once my husband has this darn project bedded down, I’m hoping that he’ll find good reason to up the tempo.
I did receive a birthday spanking, of sorts. It was not all that exciting since we were worried about making noise that the children might hear. Yeah. That situation was a bit disappointing. I’m not a spring chicken any more, and the number of spanks would have been fun.
Still, a week before that, I got a marvellous spanking that came right out of the blue...
It was mid afternoon and my husband was working from home. I came into his study to discuss some matter when out of nowhere he stood up, took my hand and led me to the bedroom. I didn’t resist at all, but followed him into the bedroom whereupon he had me kneel in front of him while he sat on the bedroom chair. We were alone in the house, with no chance of being interrupted by any children so we could let the scenario play out any way we wanted. Fun! Fun!
“I’m going to give you a good, hard spanking. You are well overdue. I want you to be a good little girl because I mean to make it hard, to make up for the spankings that you should have had. I think it will help you to behave. But first, I want you to show your respect to Sir.”
He brought his cock out of his pants and had me open my mouth wide to receive it.
“Good little girl. Ohhhhh, yes! That’s right. All the way down there. What a goooood little girl! You have learned to do that very well, haven’t you? Ohhhh and that does make Sir so verrrrry turned on. Mmmmmmmm. I sooooo want to spank your little bottom now.”
Soon thereafter, he stood up and had me lean over the seat of the chair, with my knees on the carpet. He took down my panties and lifted my skirt. He handled me for a while. He likes to do that. Then, he began to spank me until I was warm and finding it tempting to try to move away from his hand.
“No, girl. Not today. You are getting a good, long spanking today, whether you like it or not.”
I was vaguely aware that he moved away from me and seconds later I felt him lift my head, and put into my mouth the black penis gag. He tied it securely at the back of my head.
“Suck on that, little girl. Suck away and get your comfort from the cock in your mouth cunt while I thrash your ass.”
I did as instructed because he was quite right. I do get a lot of comfort out of that penis gag and it certainly takes me in my mind to a very submissive place. I’m not exactly sure how he had placed his body. I didn’t look but I suspect he was standing beside me so that he could swing back easily and sort of ‘cup’ my bottom cheeks.
At some stage I became aware of the blistering heat on my tail and I stopped sucking in order to do my best to scream out through the gag. Of course, this resulted in nothing more than muffled groans and moans. I felt his hand come down firmly on my back and make resistance impossible.
“You’re not going anywhere, little girl. You’re getting a good, hard, long spanking. Just suck away. Suck away and settle in there.”
His message of resolve was convincing and I forced my mind back to where it needed to go. I sucked on the penis gag with vigour whilst he continued to beat my bum; left to right, left to right. The heat was increasing and as it increased in crescendo I became aware of a sensation that is rare for me.
I was welcoming the sensations; the pain, the heat, the fact that he had resolved to take me to a more accepting (and fulfilling) place. I don’t know if I would exactly describe it as pain turning into pleasure, but I felt no resistance; no desire for him to actually stop. I was revelling in it and so, it seems, was he.
Finally, of course, he did stop. I could hear myself gasping for breath; sucking, then gasping; gasping then sucking. He rubbed his warm hand over my tender cheeks; felt about between my legs to confirm for himself, I suppose, the effects such handling has on me.
“Good little girl. You took your spanking very well. That should keep you centred for a while.”
He returned my panties to their rightful place; pulled down my skirt.
“Up you come. Now, where do you need to be?”
“I have to go over to school now?”
“Ah yes! Well, off you go now or you’ll be late. But, first of all, what do you say?”
“Thank you for my spanking, Sir.”
“What a polite girl! You are welcome. Off you go!”
The next few days were bliss. Every time I sat down or lifted off my seat, every time I rolled over in bed, I was aware of my state and loved it. I loved that I’d been handled. I loved that he would do this for me and to me. I loved that I was an owned girl. I loved that this could happen even when I’d been so good.
Gosh, but it was fun!
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Turned on
I have great respect for those people who are willing to express their thoughts and beliefs, regardless of whether they are popular or well received. I have always had in my life a man, be he father, brother, husband, boss or good friend, who feels entirely comfortable in expressing his thoughts openly. Sometimes, those thoughts, frustrations or opinions are expressed in a way that is unfortunate. I can think of many times when I have wished all the way down to my toes that the opinion or complaint be delivered in a more tactful way. It is just not my style to be aggressive, until really and truly pushed into a corner where I refuse to go.
I might say to him “Darling, people are looking” but that means nothing to him when all fired up. If he wants a certain outcome and someone is blocking his way; if he feels an injustice has been done and he wants rectification, then even news cameras aren’t going to stop him from insisting on his way. In many ways, this D/s space is nothing new to me.
I do feel that such men are attracted to women who are able to balance out their assertive personalities. It is no co-incidence, I don’t think that my husband chose a sweet girl; fairly quiet and not particularly assertive. Life with a girl as keen for her own way as he was for his would have been a rather sordid affair. I’m not saying that I don’t pursue my own goals and go about convincing him of them but that’s usually done in a covert way. The times when I’ve shouted and been contrary didn’t really resolve differences or get me where I wanted to go, and I got smarter than that. In any case, I’ve learned to ‘let go’ and when I did, I found him more willing to take my desires and needs into consideration such that what we want is much more closely aligned.
Living as I do in an area of the city where many people are ambitious for increased wealth and put a great deal of focus on achieving that goal and then spending the money they make, I have often wondered where the ‘real’ people are. I have often said to my husband since we moved here,
“But, where are the radicals? Where are the people who think differently? Where are the people who can turn on my frontal lobes?”
I’m looking for people who think outside the box; who can teach me something; make me think. I want to be ‘turned on’ not just in my body but in my brain.
So, this morning’s conversation with the girls after exercise class was a treat. Mary, who I don’t see often told us of her belief that life doesn’t end at death; rather, we have many lives and the people whom she loves who have died often come to visit her. In my experience, when one person opens up so do others, and another woman explained that she was going through a very hard time but that she didn’t feel alone because her deceased parents came to visit often at the moment.
The two woman needed to be heard and I simply listened but I could have added my own story that when I went through a very hard time myself I often wrapped my arms around my body and had the strongest feeling that they were the arms of my father. It gave me a great deal of strength.
As well as having a strong desire to submit, I have a strong desire to be with people who can fire my synapses. I want to be challenged in various ways and that is most likely to happen with people who can give of themselves; their brains, their experiences, their perspectives on life.
As a group we talked of the richness of our lives – none of us had missed a meal, gone without shoes or education. And, we also talked of the strong desire to give back – to give of ourselves in some way. Naturally, I can’t speak to them of this blog, but it reminded me of all that I get back from the blog – a sense of sharing my ‘self’ with you.
Sometimes, it can feel to me that there is an anomaly. I want very much to express my submissive nature and I want very much to feel the stimulus of great intellectual conversation and thoughts. Of course, there is no conflict between these two desires. Being with my husband, for example, allows me to fulfil both goals and sometimes allows me to empty my thinking brain as well – something that brings me a rush of joy and euphoria.
A submissive woman is complex. (Duh!) She needs to think and to be an active member of society. Yet, she needs to express her submissive nature and have her man dominate not just her but his landscape, as he is want to do. She needs to have available to her complex and intellectual thought but also to have her world sometimes narrowed down to the most confined and simple space. Is it any wonder we sometimes confuse ourselves with what we want and how we want our men to behave?
I certainly don’t have all the answers but I can say that in the D/s arena, I have never felt more turned on emotionally or physically. It may be complicated but it works for me.
I might say to him “Darling, people are looking” but that means nothing to him when all fired up. If he wants a certain outcome and someone is blocking his way; if he feels an injustice has been done and he wants rectification, then even news cameras aren’t going to stop him from insisting on his way. In many ways, this D/s space is nothing new to me.
I do feel that such men are attracted to women who are able to balance out their assertive personalities. It is no co-incidence, I don’t think that my husband chose a sweet girl; fairly quiet and not particularly assertive. Life with a girl as keen for her own way as he was for his would have been a rather sordid affair. I’m not saying that I don’t pursue my own goals and go about convincing him of them but that’s usually done in a covert way. The times when I’ve shouted and been contrary didn’t really resolve differences or get me where I wanted to go, and I got smarter than that. In any case, I’ve learned to ‘let go’ and when I did, I found him more willing to take my desires and needs into consideration such that what we want is much more closely aligned.
Living as I do in an area of the city where many people are ambitious for increased wealth and put a great deal of focus on achieving that goal and then spending the money they make, I have often wondered where the ‘real’ people are. I have often said to my husband since we moved here,
“But, where are the radicals? Where are the people who think differently? Where are the people who can turn on my frontal lobes?”
I’m looking for people who think outside the box; who can teach me something; make me think. I want to be ‘turned on’ not just in my body but in my brain.
So, this morning’s conversation with the girls after exercise class was a treat. Mary, who I don’t see often told us of her belief that life doesn’t end at death; rather, we have many lives and the people whom she loves who have died often come to visit her. In my experience, when one person opens up so do others, and another woman explained that she was going through a very hard time but that she didn’t feel alone because her deceased parents came to visit often at the moment.
The two woman needed to be heard and I simply listened but I could have added my own story that when I went through a very hard time myself I often wrapped my arms around my body and had the strongest feeling that they were the arms of my father. It gave me a great deal of strength.
As well as having a strong desire to submit, I have a strong desire to be with people who can fire my synapses. I want to be challenged in various ways and that is most likely to happen with people who can give of themselves; their brains, their experiences, their perspectives on life.
As a group we talked of the richness of our lives – none of us had missed a meal, gone without shoes or education. And, we also talked of the strong desire to give back – to give of ourselves in some way. Naturally, I can’t speak to them of this blog, but it reminded me of all that I get back from the blog – a sense of sharing my ‘self’ with you.
Sometimes, it can feel to me that there is an anomaly. I want very much to express my submissive nature and I want very much to feel the stimulus of great intellectual conversation and thoughts. Of course, there is no conflict between these two desires. Being with my husband, for example, allows me to fulfil both goals and sometimes allows me to empty my thinking brain as well – something that brings me a rush of joy and euphoria.
A submissive woman is complex. (Duh!) She needs to think and to be an active member of society. Yet, she needs to express her submissive nature and have her man dominate not just her but his landscape, as he is want to do. She needs to have available to her complex and intellectual thought but also to have her world sometimes narrowed down to the most confined and simple space. Is it any wonder we sometimes confuse ourselves with what we want and how we want our men to behave?
I certainly don’t have all the answers but I can say that in the D/s arena, I have never felt more turned on emotionally or physically. It may be complicated but it works for me.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Blessed
There is a photograph of my husband and me when we were engaged and another one on the day that we were married where my husband is looking at me adoringly. He looks so happy to be with me and love is definitely written all over his face. I’m looking at the camera but he’s looking at me.
Today, my daughter took photos of my husband and I in the garden, just before we left for a big day out, all gussied up. Several of them turned out very well, but my daughter and I agree that the best one is of me smiling at the camera and my husband smiling at me. I look cute and he looks even cuter.
And it occurred to me this evening, after a really lovely and sometimes kinky day out together that we are the lucky ones; married for a very long time and still in love, still infatuated, still luxuriating in one another.
It hasn’t been like this for every day of every week of every month of every year; not at all. We’ve had fights and disagreements and at times it has seemed that our union had almost fizzed out. He, the rock, refused to ever lie down and die and on we went, together. I never ever seriously wanted to walk away from the most important relationship of my life but at the same time I wasn’t sure how to make it work at times.
Coming out as a spanko rehabilitated us and made us strong; gave us solidarity against the world and made us, at times, indescribably and euphorically happy. But, a power exchange relationship is not for the faint hearted and at times I lost my way, unsure that I was up to the task. Some days were good and some days were not. I still didn’t have it all bedded down.
In the past few weeks that has all changed. It is as if the lessons I have learned have fallen into place; as if the messages have seeped into my brain and my heart and I don’t need to feel confused or unsure any more. It all makes sense. It all works. It is all so heavenly.
If I say to you that it has a great deal to do with my slutty red (but oh so chic) nails you will only laugh at me. But, it is the truth. A man does want to think of his girl as his candy.
And, a few other small changes occurred, too. I bought two pieces of head wear to go with special outfits. Wanting a change from hats, I tried on a head piece and was amazed to discover that the style suited me well. When I dressed and put one on, my husband adored it. He loved that I was experimenting with new styles and ideas and I can’t tell you how many times he praised my appearance today. There were some gorgeous gals there, but his eyes kept returning to me. You can’t know how beautiful I felt!
After the event, we said goodbye to our friends and made our way to our favourite Italian restaurant in town and shared together, alone at last, an antipasto and a glass of red wine. He looked at me and said,
“If I just met you...if I saw you sitting here, I would want to fuck you. You look sensational.”
Of course, it doesn’t get any better than this. To be not just loved, but to be found ‘fuckable’ is music to a girl’s ears.
As we made our way down the escalator to the train station for the journey home, he told me to stand in front of him. I did exactly as he told me to do, as I had all day, and I felt his hand wander underneath my open summer coat. He made his way to my breast and he pinched the nipple of my left breast. He would do what he wanted, where he wanted and that was just fine with me.
I am an owned girl, a loved girl, a fuckable girl; obedient, respectful and full of love. I am blessed.
P.S. My apologies for the lack of a list of other blogs, which I deleted by mistake. I'll rectify this situation as soon as possible.
Today, my daughter took photos of my husband and I in the garden, just before we left for a big day out, all gussied up. Several of them turned out very well, but my daughter and I agree that the best one is of me smiling at the camera and my husband smiling at me. I look cute and he looks even cuter.
And it occurred to me this evening, after a really lovely and sometimes kinky day out together that we are the lucky ones; married for a very long time and still in love, still infatuated, still luxuriating in one another.
It hasn’t been like this for every day of every week of every month of every year; not at all. We’ve had fights and disagreements and at times it has seemed that our union had almost fizzed out. He, the rock, refused to ever lie down and die and on we went, together. I never ever seriously wanted to walk away from the most important relationship of my life but at the same time I wasn’t sure how to make it work at times.
Coming out as a spanko rehabilitated us and made us strong; gave us solidarity against the world and made us, at times, indescribably and euphorically happy. But, a power exchange relationship is not for the faint hearted and at times I lost my way, unsure that I was up to the task. Some days were good and some days were not. I still didn’t have it all bedded down.
In the past few weeks that has all changed. It is as if the lessons I have learned have fallen into place; as if the messages have seeped into my brain and my heart and I don’t need to feel confused or unsure any more. It all makes sense. It all works. It is all so heavenly.
If I say to you that it has a great deal to do with my slutty red (but oh so chic) nails you will only laugh at me. But, it is the truth. A man does want to think of his girl as his candy.
And, a few other small changes occurred, too. I bought two pieces of head wear to go with special outfits. Wanting a change from hats, I tried on a head piece and was amazed to discover that the style suited me well. When I dressed and put one on, my husband adored it. He loved that I was experimenting with new styles and ideas and I can’t tell you how many times he praised my appearance today. There were some gorgeous gals there, but his eyes kept returning to me. You can’t know how beautiful I felt!
After the event, we said goodbye to our friends and made our way to our favourite Italian restaurant in town and shared together, alone at last, an antipasto and a glass of red wine. He looked at me and said,
“If I just met you...if I saw you sitting here, I would want to fuck you. You look sensational.”
Of course, it doesn’t get any better than this. To be not just loved, but to be found ‘fuckable’ is music to a girl’s ears.
As we made our way down the escalator to the train station for the journey home, he told me to stand in front of him. I did exactly as he told me to do, as I had all day, and I felt his hand wander underneath my open summer coat. He made his way to my breast and he pinched the nipple of my left breast. He would do what he wanted, where he wanted and that was just fine with me.
I am an owned girl, a loved girl, a fuckable girl; obedient, respectful and full of love. I am blessed.
P.S. My apologies for the lack of a list of other blogs, which I deleted by mistake. I'll rectify this situation as soon as possible.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Introducing Cassie
It has been a great joy for me to meet people by way of my blog and it is with pleasure that I introduce Cassie, a very dear friend, as a guest writer. Cassie is a woman who is submissive. Her mother tongue is not English, although I’m sure you will agree, she is totally fluent in the English language. I know Cassie would love to read your comments and I invite you to do so or to ask her any questions you may have. This is a really lovely, heartfelt piece of writing and I hope you enjoy it and much as I have.
MR. CHAIRMAN
It is late in the evening. We arrive at the congress hall right on time. As our coats are taken away, i take a minute to get used to the bright lights and the music humming in the background. There are many people in the lobby, elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen, holding their invitations, waiting to be shown to their seats.
"Ah, Mr. Chairman!" i hear somebody behind me say. A tall man introduces himself to You and, placing his hand on Your back, leads You away while gesturing and discussing tonight's proceedings. Then i can't see You anymore, You have been swallowed by the crowd.
i just stand there, feeling lost and lonely. i look around. What should i do?
"Mrs. Chairman, Mrs. Chairman, this way please! Let me show you to your seat!" Startled, i turn around. A man and a woman are looking at me and smiling.
"Please, this way" says the woman and gently touches my elbow. "Follow me. Your table is table number 2." The man, dark blue suit, white shirt, blue tie, leads the way through the crowd. He pulls a chair back and invites me to sit. My heart sinks when i see that both chairs on either side of mine are occupied. Instinctively i look around to find You. Please help me, join me, i don't want to spend the whole evening with strangers, but i can't find You. Reluctantly, i thank the young couple that had taken me to my seat and introduce myself to my neighbours to be for the next hours.
"Good evening, how do you do?" i say and smile, "i am .... " and do my best to look bright and happy and soon we engage in what would be considered by most to be a pleasant conversation.
A waiter fills my glass with wine but i can't touch it. i sit with my back straight, palms spread on the table and then the lights dim and the music fades. A woman wearing a suit the colour of peppermint, her blond hair flowing freely down her back, takes hold of the microphone, welcomes us and introduces You:
"Tonight I have the honour to... " and the audience start applauding.
You enter the stage. Navy blue jacket, light blue shirt, tie, beige chino's. You shine with self-confidence and i look up thinking how age has done You good: Your hair which now has streaks of gray, Your happy blue eyes, Your new glasses. How well they suit You. Placing the papers in front of You, You begin Your speech.
"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening and thank you. Tonight I would like to..."
Minute by minute Your voice is growing stronger. There is rhythm in Your narration, Your words fill the room and people nod and sigh in agreement to what You are saying. Sometimes You pause, look up and scan the hall, as if to emphasise one of Your points.
i find myself staring at You in quiet admiration. This is Your moment, the stage belongs only to You. Had we been outside, all the stars would shine on You, nature would have stood still to hear You speak. i hold my breath as i focus on your face. How can i show You how much i love You? i am mesmerized.
As Your speech is nearing its end i see a group of men and women getting restless, wanting to grab Your attention, shake Your hand and take You to their table as soon as You are finished. They won't let You join me, sit next to me and chase away the loneliness...i won't be able to steal a tiny moment of Your time to tell You how i feel...
Tears well in my eyes. i want to get up and shout "He's mine! He's mine! i washed and pressed His trousers and shirt, i took His jacket and tie to the cleaner's, i, kneeling, polished His shoes with all of my love, i felt the sting of His belt only hours ago... i take care of Him and He takes care of me..."
i am almost crying. Seeing You up there, i feel so much a part of You, i am overwhelmed. my hand trembles. i reach for my neck, looking for the collar, looking for the ring to stick my fingers in. It's not there. i find a black velvet ribbon instead. The black velvet ribbon You had ordered me to wear round my neck as we were getting dressed a few hours earlier.
"This is going to be your collar for tonight. Remember that".
"Yes Master. Thank you".
As i touch the soft material i feel warm and secure, i bow my head and comforting thoughts fill my heart: i am His, i am His...
i no longer pay attention to the speech, i hear it but i am not listening. All i can think of is
"i am His, i am His, ...i am Yours".
Suddenly, a loud applause interrupts my reverie. You have finished, people are congratulating You, having their picture taken while shaking Your hand. The music sets in, the lights brighten. The woman who introduced You gives You a gift, You thank everyone politely and then she takes You to another table. You sit down, pour everybody some wine and lift your glass for a toast. Soon You are in the middle of a conversation.
From where i'm sitting i can see You. Silently, i crave for Your attention, oh please turn Your head, please look this way, i'm here, Your woman is here, waiting for You to lay your eyes upon her, even if it is just for a brief moment, a brief moment full of love.
The woman and man next to me have finished eating, their plates are almost empty.
"Aren't you hungry?" the lady wants to know. "Why aren't you eating? Is it not to your liking?"
"No,no, it's fine" i say. My voice is thick. "i'll eat in a moment" and try to change the subject enquiring about the origins of her dress and handbag. The band is playing love songs. Most of the guests have eaten and some are moving around the hall, glass in one hand, talking to friends and colleagues. Two couples are slow dancing, embracing each other tightly. If only You asked me to dance...
i turn my head to look Your way once more. As i look up, i find myself staring into Your eyes. i freeze. You raise your glass to me and Your eyes smile with love and kindness, saying "eat and drink now, you're Mine. I am proud of you". Spoken words are not necessary. i nod and whisper "Thank You Master, i am proud of You".
i take a deep breath and take a sip of the wine. i feel it relax my muscles instantly. The tears subside. Only then do i realize how tense i had been. i finally put my heels on the floor and take a moment to adjust my uncomfortable underwear. i start to eat my cold dinner but i don't really care...everything seems to have finally fallen into place...i am His. i have been His all along...
"Mrs. Chairman?" Someone is tapping me on my shoulder, "please join your husband for some pictures. He is waiting for you right over there", says one of the waiters and points in the direction of the stage.
"Oh, yes, thank you, i will" and i get up excusing myself and head for the stage where i see a group of photographers and journalists waiting. i am still on my way to Him when the cameras start shooting...
....
The handsome middle aged man in the picture is Master. The woman behind Him is a slave. His.
....
To Master, the light and love of my life.
Your cassie
MR. CHAIRMAN
It is late in the evening. We arrive at the congress hall right on time. As our coats are taken away, i take a minute to get used to the bright lights and the music humming in the background. There are many people in the lobby, elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen, holding their invitations, waiting to be shown to their seats.
"Ah, Mr. Chairman!" i hear somebody behind me say. A tall man introduces himself to You and, placing his hand on Your back, leads You away while gesturing and discussing tonight's proceedings. Then i can't see You anymore, You have been swallowed by the crowd.
i just stand there, feeling lost and lonely. i look around. What should i do?
"Mrs. Chairman, Mrs. Chairman, this way please! Let me show you to your seat!" Startled, i turn around. A man and a woman are looking at me and smiling.
"Please, this way" says the woman and gently touches my elbow. "Follow me. Your table is table number 2." The man, dark blue suit, white shirt, blue tie, leads the way through the crowd. He pulls a chair back and invites me to sit. My heart sinks when i see that both chairs on either side of mine are occupied. Instinctively i look around to find You. Please help me, join me, i don't want to spend the whole evening with strangers, but i can't find You. Reluctantly, i thank the young couple that had taken me to my seat and introduce myself to my neighbours to be for the next hours.
"Good evening, how do you do?" i say and smile, "i am .... " and do my best to look bright and happy and soon we engage in what would be considered by most to be a pleasant conversation.
A waiter fills my glass with wine but i can't touch it. i sit with my back straight, palms spread on the table and then the lights dim and the music fades. A woman wearing a suit the colour of peppermint, her blond hair flowing freely down her back, takes hold of the microphone, welcomes us and introduces You:
"Tonight I have the honour to... " and the audience start applauding.
You enter the stage. Navy blue jacket, light blue shirt, tie, beige chino's. You shine with self-confidence and i look up thinking how age has done You good: Your hair which now has streaks of gray, Your happy blue eyes, Your new glasses. How well they suit You. Placing the papers in front of You, You begin Your speech.
"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening and thank you. Tonight I would like to..."
Minute by minute Your voice is growing stronger. There is rhythm in Your narration, Your words fill the room and people nod and sigh in agreement to what You are saying. Sometimes You pause, look up and scan the hall, as if to emphasise one of Your points.
i find myself staring at You in quiet admiration. This is Your moment, the stage belongs only to You. Had we been outside, all the stars would shine on You, nature would have stood still to hear You speak. i hold my breath as i focus on your face. How can i show You how much i love You? i am mesmerized.
As Your speech is nearing its end i see a group of men and women getting restless, wanting to grab Your attention, shake Your hand and take You to their table as soon as You are finished. They won't let You join me, sit next to me and chase away the loneliness...i won't be able to steal a tiny moment of Your time to tell You how i feel...
Tears well in my eyes. i want to get up and shout "He's mine! He's mine! i washed and pressed His trousers and shirt, i took His jacket and tie to the cleaner's, i, kneeling, polished His shoes with all of my love, i felt the sting of His belt only hours ago... i take care of Him and He takes care of me..."
i am almost crying. Seeing You up there, i feel so much a part of You, i am overwhelmed. my hand trembles. i reach for my neck, looking for the collar, looking for the ring to stick my fingers in. It's not there. i find a black velvet ribbon instead. The black velvet ribbon You had ordered me to wear round my neck as we were getting dressed a few hours earlier.
"This is going to be your collar for tonight. Remember that".
"Yes Master. Thank you".
As i touch the soft material i feel warm and secure, i bow my head and comforting thoughts fill my heart: i am His, i am His...
i no longer pay attention to the speech, i hear it but i am not listening. All i can think of is
"i am His, i am His, ...i am Yours".
Suddenly, a loud applause interrupts my reverie. You have finished, people are congratulating You, having their picture taken while shaking Your hand. The music sets in, the lights brighten. The woman who introduced You gives You a gift, You thank everyone politely and then she takes You to another table. You sit down, pour everybody some wine and lift your glass for a toast. Soon You are in the middle of a conversation.
From where i'm sitting i can see You. Silently, i crave for Your attention, oh please turn Your head, please look this way, i'm here, Your woman is here, waiting for You to lay your eyes upon her, even if it is just for a brief moment, a brief moment full of love.
The woman and man next to me have finished eating, their plates are almost empty.
"Aren't you hungry?" the lady wants to know. "Why aren't you eating? Is it not to your liking?"
"No,no, it's fine" i say. My voice is thick. "i'll eat in a moment" and try to change the subject enquiring about the origins of her dress and handbag. The band is playing love songs. Most of the guests have eaten and some are moving around the hall, glass in one hand, talking to friends and colleagues. Two couples are slow dancing, embracing each other tightly. If only You asked me to dance...
i turn my head to look Your way once more. As i look up, i find myself staring into Your eyes. i freeze. You raise your glass to me and Your eyes smile with love and kindness, saying "eat and drink now, you're Mine. I am proud of you". Spoken words are not necessary. i nod and whisper "Thank You Master, i am proud of You".
i take a deep breath and take a sip of the wine. i feel it relax my muscles instantly. The tears subside. Only then do i realize how tense i had been. i finally put my heels on the floor and take a moment to adjust my uncomfortable underwear. i start to eat my cold dinner but i don't really care...everything seems to have finally fallen into place...i am His. i have been His all along...
"Mrs. Chairman?" Someone is tapping me on my shoulder, "please join your husband for some pictures. He is waiting for you right over there", says one of the waiters and points in the direction of the stage.
"Oh, yes, thank you, i will" and i get up excusing myself and head for the stage where i see a group of photographers and journalists waiting. i am still on my way to Him when the cameras start shooting...
....
The handsome middle aged man in the picture is Master. The woman behind Him is a slave. His.
....
To Master, the light and love of my life.
Your cassie
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Slutty red nails
Whilst I have always been interested in fashion trends and have wanted to look my best, especially for special occasions, I confess that I haven't paid a great deal of attention to my nails. It always seemed so indulgent to be worrying about my nails when I had so many other things to do. This situation changed considerably a few months ago when I was convinced that I would love the effect of acrylic nails. I was nervous and needed considerable coaxing to walk into that nail salon for the first time and ask to have acrylic nails, but I can assure you I haven't looked back since that day. I love them so!
In my neck of the woods we are into party mode this week and girls go to considerable lengths to look their best. A visit to the nail salon a few days ago, therefore, was a must for this girl and whilst she was there, a thought occurred to her. What if she were to have her nails painted cherry red? That would look rather nice against the black dress she planned to wear to the first event, and would co-ordinate nicely with her lovely new necklace she'd acquired for her birthday - turquoise, a red stone and silver.
To say that I love my lovely shiny red finger nails (and toe nails!) is an understatement. I adore them! But, there is someone who adores them more than me - my owner. He is smitten by them! He must have told me a dozen times how much he loves them, and within the hour this girl found herself head down in the bedroom chair being shown just how much he loved them.
At the event yesterday, he showed off his dollie like the proudest of owners. "Doesn't she look fantastic!" he said to my friends. He was quite twitterpated by those nails.
This morning, so enamored by those nails was he that he felt the need to express his admiration with a bout of love making that lasted a long time and had his dollie breathless with pleasure. How she does love to be all tied up so!
If you're looking for a little action, girls, I can't recommend to you more highly, the sluttiest red of red nails.
In my neck of the woods we are into party mode this week and girls go to considerable lengths to look their best. A visit to the nail salon a few days ago, therefore, was a must for this girl and whilst she was there, a thought occurred to her. What if she were to have her nails painted cherry red? That would look rather nice against the black dress she planned to wear to the first event, and would co-ordinate nicely with her lovely new necklace she'd acquired for her birthday - turquoise, a red stone and silver.
To say that I love my lovely shiny red finger nails (and toe nails!) is an understatement. I adore them! But, there is someone who adores them more than me - my owner. He is smitten by them! He must have told me a dozen times how much he loves them, and within the hour this girl found herself head down in the bedroom chair being shown just how much he loved them.
At the event yesterday, he showed off his dollie like the proudest of owners. "Doesn't she look fantastic!" he said to my friends. He was quite twitterpated by those nails.
This morning, so enamored by those nails was he that he felt the need to express his admiration with a bout of love making that lasted a long time and had his dollie breathless with pleasure. How she does love to be all tied up so!
If you're looking for a little action, girls, I can't recommend to you more highly, the sluttiest red of red nails.
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