My Secret Need

I often bemoan the fact I have to keep our lifestyle secret. Surely life would be easier if I could be honest about what and who I am. 

I don't ever see it happening. It's obvious whenever I'm in a bookstore or library and someone sees a book on a shelf concerning the lifestyle or, even more obvious, when I'm holding one. And their eyes travel from the book to my face and their expression changes to shock, or worse, disgust.

In the past I got angry. How dare they judge me? Who are they to determine what's acceptable between me and my Master?

But now? Now I pity them. 

Because they will never know the beautiful mystery of submission. They will never experience the  feeling of absolute bliss that is found under a Dominant's care. 

So I'll keep my secret to myself, held only between me and my Master. And they can think what they want. The truth is too precious.

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My Secret Hideaway

Master surprised me last week by taking off work so we could go to our private hideaway in Switzerland.  We went there for our honeymoon and it's our favorite place to go when we want to get away from it all.

And if that wasn't surprise enough, he'd recently had the playroom we were installing finished.  I'd told him I'd like floor to ceiling windows and he didn't disappoint. The entire outside wall is made of windows (thank goodness we don't have any neighbors). He had blackout shades drawn over them when he first showed me and then he pushed a button and they rose automatically.

I'll never forget the crisp white light flooding the playroom as the shades lifted. Everything looked so serene and new.

"I'm going to enjoy fucking you in front of those windows." He unbuttoned his shirt. "Press you up against it and pound into you. All the while you'll be surrounded by white snow and blue sky. I hope you like the view, because that's what you'll be looking at all weekend."

And he wasn't lying about that last part.....

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My Secret Task

Master likes to keep me on my toes.  How he has time to think up the things he does, especially with all his day-to-day responsibilities, is beyond me.

Even though we're married and my name is on the deed of the house, I still think of the playroom as his. I don't like to go in there without him by my side, unless, of course, I'm cleaning up or something. Likewise, he's always the one to buy things to stock the playroom with.

Yesterday, we were having dinner (since it was a Monday night, I didn't have my collar on) and talking about our jobs and how the week was going, when he oh-so-smoothly told me he'd like for me to buy a toy for the playroom.

I asked him if he was serious and he said he was. According to him, this will be a way for me to think about things I'd like to do and experience. 

Interesting.

I have NO IDEA what to buy.  Guess I need to go shopping!

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My Secret Fear, Part 5

“Yes, please, Master.”

“Thank you,” he said.

He tapped the tip of the cane a few times on my upper thigh.  Then it landed higher and harder, right where my thigh met the

flesh of my lower ass.  Gentler taps interspersed with heavier strokes, landing oh-so-close, but never exactly in the same spot. Deeper and deeper I sank as the sensations intensified.  

Whenever the cane hit, I first felt a piercing sting and had to breathe through the pain, knowing it would disperse into a pleasure that would leave me right on the edge of wanting more. Some of the strikes reverberated through the entire portion of my lower body. Almost as if stroking the needy and wanting part of me. 

Then it stopped and I was still breathing deeply, still right on the edge. Waiting. Wanting.
And completely encased in a deep, throbbing desire that pulsed throughout my body. 

His hands were at my waist and I sighed.

“Still okay?” he asked.

“Yes, Master,” I said, thrilled by the affection and pleasure in his touch.

“I’ve marked you,” he said, and at that moment, I felt every stripe. “They’ll probably fade later today, but you’ll be sore.” His fingers skirted my waist, dancing over the ache of my backside, dipping between my legs. “Mmm,” he hummed. “What is this?”

I held still, knowing he felt the evidence of just how much I’d liked what he’d done to me.

“You enjoyed yourself,” he said.

“Yes, Master.”

He gently pushed my legs apart and moved a few of the rolled towels under my stomach for support. “I can smell you,” he said, his breath tickling my exposed flesh. “I want to taste you.” 

His mouth was warm, and his tongue playful and teasing as it darted around me.  His teeth nipped my skin and I moaned in pleasure. As always, the combination of pleasure-laced pain excited me further.  

He’d told me to come when I wished and though I never thought I’d come from the feel of the cane, I was surprised at how turned on I was in its aftermath. It didn’t take long before I felt my body approach its climax.

He licked me again from end to end, swirling his tongue, dipping it inside me.  I clenched the blanket underneath me.  My orgasm was soft, but intense, and I shook as it overtook me. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered and I knew I was beautiful because of him.  Any beauty of my orgasm was a result of what he did to me. 

He kept touching me while the tremors of my climax subsided and afterward, he placed a soft kiss on my still weak flesh.  I felt soft and weightless, and sighed.

He rubbed my neck. “Rest here or in bed?”

“Bed please, Master,” I said, struggling to keep my eyes open.

With a tenderness that seemed at odds with his strength, he pulled me close and carefully lifted me into his arms. 

I was asleep before he laid me in our bed.

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My Secret Fear, Part 4

Warmth surrounded me as he placed soft blankets around me. His hands, strong and sure, splayed across my upper back with his fingertips touching my shoulder blades. And I melted into  his touch as his lips pressed softly against the nape of my neck.

“Your trust humbles me.” His hands were warm and slick with lotion. As he talked, he slowly massaged my back. “The way you give yourself to me.”

He continued his sensuous strokes as he spoke in soft tones. “Vocalize and come as you wish. BE sure to remember your breathing.”

At his reminder, I fell into the slow, deep breaths of my yoga instruction. 

“Yes,” he said. “Very good.”

I closed my eyes as he transitioned from massage to a fingertip percussion of sorts. Up and down and along my spine he went.  Tap. Tap. Tap. Dipping lower at times to play his staccato beat along the curve of my backside.  Kneading there as well.  Tap. Tap. Tap. Knead. 

Gradually, the tap, tap, taps got harder.  Gradually, they became more focused on my backside.  And every so often he’d give a slap to one cheek or the other in between his taps.

I focused on my breathing and how the sensation of his touch warmed me from the outside in.  How the sharpness of a slap diffused into a pleasure than sank deep within and slowly spread.  I felt myself seeking the familiar feeling of inherent trust and submission that allowed me so much freedom.

I wasn’t expecting the rapid stroke that must have come from a cane and I grunted at the sharp sting.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes, Master,” I said. Already the sting was subsiding, leaving behind a warm, spreading ache.

The next stroke was still singular, but a bit harder than the first.  I sucked in my breath.

“They won’t be any harder than that,” he said. “Should I continue?”

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My Secret Fear, Part 3

Finally, he decided I was ready. That Saturday night I stepped into the playroom and stopped immediately. 

Since suggesting to Master that my limits on canes had changed, and especially since he told me to expect a scene this weekend, I’d imagined several ways he might use one on me for the first time. But never had the playroom looked like this in my mind.

Candles of varying height were scattered everywhere: on top of tables, lining the window sill, and along the countertop. Soft piano music paired with the candlelight made the playroom into something I didn’t think fit with what he had in mind.

I gave a stifled half laugh once I situated myself on my stomach atop the padded table. He’d tried to set a beautiful scene up, but all I kept thinking was: He was going to use a cane. Holy shit. Surely he knew candlelight wasn’t was going to make that thought go away. As it was I felt so tense, I’d probably jump ten feet when he touched me.

Soft footsteps sounded on the floor and I took a deep breath. He rustled around the room, opened a cabinet, then a drawer. The entire time my heart pounded so hard, it probably shook the table.

The footsteps approached me. I closed my eyes.


Was I ready?

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My Secret Fear, Part 2

I think usually when we’re scared of something it’s because we fear that thing hurting us in some way. Sometimes this is emotional pain,  but other times, like with canes, it’s physical pain. And the only way to overcome fear is to do the thing you’re afraid of.

Stop there for a minute and think about that. There’s no magic potion, no 12 step program, no easy out. You have to do it.

Even realizing this, I didn’t mention my growing interest in canes to Master at first. I wanted to research and gain more information before I did that. So I talked with some friends in the lifestyle. Read several websites I trusted and when I finally approached him, I thought he’d plan a scene for the next weekend. 

Never let it be said he doesn't surprise me. When I told him I was curious and wanted to change my limit, he didn’t jump at the chance to use one.  In fact, he didn’t do anything, he simply spoke.

“It’s not enough to be curious, you have to know beyond a doubt that you want to change that limit.”

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