Finally, Master is 100% home.

Today, for the first time since moving over 2 months ago, I felt Master’s full presence in our home. The home we built. The home we have been breaking our backs to create and fill and enjoy. Before moving here we both had fears that we would lose this side of our relationship. That life would slow to a crawl or that the solitude of rural living would take its toll on our creativity and lust. Or even perhaps that the act of taking this step in our relationship would cause one or both of us to not be interested in the D/s lifestyle anymore. Maybe these were just my fears though.

My fears were starting to increase over the last week or so as I entered into what seems to be known as pet-frenzy, where my every thought, action, and dream consisted of carnal needs and a fierce desire to be called into service. It seemed the more I became consumed by my urges, the more life and distractions pulled Him away. I thought today would be the same, but I was definitely mistaken.

I had gotten in trouble not too long ago for begging for discipline with my favorite punishment tool… the rope whip. However I had been thinking for a while that I would like to have more tools in His arsenal… perhaps if He had a wider variety it would increase our  ability to use one in a pinch. I read around at what other bloggers like myself were using and one tool was common amongst most: A simple ping pong paddle. Hard. Round. Textured. Discreet. And all described it as one of their more painful toys. I figured if it really is that painful, then it may be handy for quick punishment when time matters most. Fewer strikes for equal results right?

So today we are out shopping and I ask Master “I know I am not allowed to ask for discipline from a particular toy, but if I’m interested in a new toy, may I buy it?”  He answered yes, and so at my first opportunity I slipped a nice little paddle from the sports department into the cart. I think I caught a smile when He saw it.

I would soon find out once we got home that Master was not interested in quick discipline at all as that paddle struck my bound and helpless ass over and over and over again until I was screaming, crying, and in some state of rapture that cumming does not begin to describe. The texture on the paddle felt like a thousand needles. The heat from the paddle was unbearable and fantastic and torture and ecstasy all at once!  Swing after swing I wanted to ask for more but I had tied my gag too tightly and I admit I was afraid of the pain. When it was over and I was released, I was overwhelmed with tears of relief and pain. I felt the welts and couldn’t bear to look into Master’s eyes because I was so very surprised by the pleasure I felt at those marks. I rushed into His arms and planted kisses on His neck, thanking Him over and over again. In that moment I felt silly for ever doubting that He wanted this life with me. For my fears that my Master was no longer interested. I felt rewarded for my months of hunger.  My GOD I missed this!

There’s no escaping it. If you’ve taken a dip in the dating pool at any point in your life then without question I’m sure you have now added an additional rule to the swimmer’s safety sign; “CAUTION: Swimming may attract toxic swim partners!”

We’ve all had one. The bad date that you’d rather just forget. The co-worker you thought *might* just be a normal person outside of the office. Even the ex-lover who turned out to be something completely different than what your poor misguided self needed. But it takes more than just bad dates and broken hearts to classify someone as toxic. After all, toxins are dangerous little bastards that leave illness and damage and despair right? Toxins spread from their original victim and continue to damage anything else it touches.

I’m referring to the ones who even years down the road require special handling to avoid the damages of. Protective gear, alternate escape routes, and even emergency procedure instructions. These are the lovers who left a scar, or the stalkers who make you jump at shadows or the ex’s that jaded your heart. I have some of those. It’s interesting and quite humbling to see how Master and I handle these. Today my most toxic one came up in conversation and I had a hard time explaining my protective gear to my Master. Avoidance.

It’s really that simple. There is no event, gathering, purpose or reason that is good enough or important enough to expose myself to the opportunity of running into the toxic ex and then having to resort to the emergency procedures manual and disaster recovery. Not Worth It. Not worth the chaos, stress, pain, or loss associated with the toxic burn.

Master’s concern is that I shouldn’t have to shelter myself from other friends or fun times but how fun can something be if I’m watching over my shoulder with one eye while the other eye is focused on the fire escape? I think He also wants to be sure that I am not hiding out or backing down from something that I would normally want to do as a sign of submission rather than by my own choice. But my choice IS my submission… and the entire relationship that surrounds it. We are equal partners in this relationship when it comes to keeping the toxins out. There is no submission to that… only protectiveness, commitment, and common sense.

At the end of the day I doubt the toxins ever completely disappear, and I’m sure that the scars only fade with time, but the lessons learned last forever.

I follow Master upstairs as commanded. I still have loose ropes hanging from my neck from the idle playing He did while we watched American Psycho (I had never seen it before). He played again with the ropes, binding my hands, wrists, and forearms so tightly there wasn’t a chance I could move. But the binds weren’t symetric enough for pictures so again I was released.

After a quick break, I return to have him lace a simple loop around each of my wrists, my arms now being controlled as if I was a purchased marionette doll. Quickly he positioned me on the bed and secured each wrist to the slats on the very sturdy headboard. He spread my legs and suddenly shoved my favorite toy deep into my cunt, hurting but making me shiver at the same time. I’m commanded to stay silent which forces my screams to be expressed through tightening muscles and biting my own flesh. . I raise my legs until my toes are gripping the very same headboard my hands are fastened to. He orders me to stay right there and grabs more rope. Suddenly my ankles are strapped to my newfound wall of restraint.

At this point I should explain that my favorite toy just happens to be a custom mold of my Master’s cock. Not as long but definitely as thick and with that same large head that after 5 years I STILL have a hard time receiving without pain.

He quickly and very roughly shoves the toy back into my swollen pussy, then takes a few strokes with his own cock. I’m pulling against my ropes, losing feeling in my hands and feet, and still trying very unsuccessfully to keep silent. Suddenly, he plunges his cock hard into my ass and shoves the toy back into my pussy! Somehow I was experiencing my first double-penetration with my Master’s cock in both holes at once! The sensation was overwhelming. I screamed. I came. I started having twitches in muscles I didn’t know existed while he balanced the toy against his pelvis and just kept pounding as I screamed YES! YES! YES! I could feel as the two heads inside of me overlapped, rubbing against each other. I could see the flesh of my stomach puffing out every time he pushed further inside of me. I felt like I was being split in two and at the same time I felt head to toe covered in lust! When he finally came I couldn’t move or breathe. He untied the ropes from the headboard and went to take a shower. Unable to move, think or speak, I just lay there, legs spread and a look of confusion on my face. He had fucked me stupid.

It took about 20 minutes (or at least it felt that long) for me to have the sense to get up and shower myself. Dizzy and still confused I made my way back to bed and we watched a little television. I still had the sensation of being double-stuffed and it just wouldn’t go away. My skin was crawling with the need for his cock again, and I asked permission to kiss it goodnight. The moment I touched my lips to his head the hunger was undeniable. I began rolling his head on my tongue… swallowing it back until I could feel the shaft swelling and choking me. I was starving and I wanted nothing more than to have his cock forcing down the back of my throat and as much as I hadn’t gotten permission to give him head, I could not stop myself. My hand reached around his hip, grabbing him and thrusting him into my face, hurting my throat and bringing me close to another orgasm. And then, just as quickly as this hunger came over me, it was torn away as he snapped at me to stop and go to bed.

I fell asleep still wondering how such a brutal fucking had made me even MORE cock hungry rather than wear me out. I wondered if perhaps I really am a whore deep down inside for enjoying it the way I did. I wondered if Master enjoyed it as much as I did, and if He thought less of me for giving into the pure primal hunger without consent. Mostly though… I thought that I can’t believe I just got the same perfect cock in all three of my holes so quickly, roughly, forcefully, and satisfyingly.