I am kneeling on the rug in the bathroom.
My arms held awkwardly to put enough tension on the rope I’m holding.
I can not let it untwist.
I’m fussing a little.
My bones feel every bit of their 38 years tonight.
Sir is in the shower.
I am waiting not so patiently.
I don’t want to disappoint, but lately I feel disappointing.
To everyone.
My head isn’t in the right place.
I’m happy to kneel, despite the pain, and I will not let the rope go.
Still, I’m fussing.
Sir hears my fussing, asks me, so I suck it up.
I am determined to overcome my brain.
The shower shuts off.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath… again… again…
It is working and I focus on the sounds.
The squeegee on the tile, the slide of the towel, the ruffling sound on Sir’s head, finally the open and close of the shower door.
The rope did not untwist!
He tells me I’m a good girl and takes the rope.
He instructs me to crawl to the bed.
I straighten my legs and crawl up the bed.
Hands and knees.
Words and touching and tongue and…
I’m feeling a little tipsy.
Not from alcohol, Sir is making me feel this way, making my head fuzzy.
Words, then I am opening my mouth and He is slipping the rope in.
It’s a bit. And reins. All in one.
Sir pulls the rope taut and it bites into the corners of my mouth.
Across my cheeks.
I’m drooling. Already.
I wonder if the drool will be a turn off, it’s so much, but I have no control.
He slams into me, filling me, pulling on the rope.
Will the rope rub my mouth raw?
Don’t care.
Pounding and pulling.
I’m straining my head against the rope.
I want to feel it all.
Never takes long to get me off.
I’m too fast.
He senses my withholding.
Do it, He demands.
I do.
Over and over.
No more thinking, only feeling.
Feeling used.
Feeling His.
Feeling happy.
Feeling free.
Feeling wrung out.
Feeling perfect.

’twas the start of stellar night…

thinking [backdoor] thursday

You guys! It is Thursday! This week has been ass-centric…

Sharkweek around here has brought about a lot of shower sexytime. I love shower play. The steam, the water, the slippery soap, the washing of the bodies…mmmm. The candlelight seems to bring out the dirtiest truths.
The other night in our big, new, tiled shower Sir made me turn away from Him.

Turn around, I want to play with your asshole.”

Now, I’m no prude…and I have loved ass play since, well… from the get go. However, sometimes much of the time words make me blush and brings out the painfully shy in me. I’d never been embarrassed of my affinity for anal, until a nameless former friend made a comment about it, and I developed a bit of a hangup. I’m working on it.

So, Sir says this and of course I turn – He is the boss, after all – but I giggle, and I half-heartedly murmur words of protest. It’s one thing to play there, it is a completely different thing to talk about it! Geez! While I am slightly embarrassed, I’m also extremely turned on. His words are hot and sexy and we both know I love this, even if I struggle with it sometimes.
I want it, I don’t, I do…
As His finger begins to circle, to tease and play with my most vulnerable spot, He says…

This asshole is mine and you will give it to me whenever I want.”

I am fairly certain I replied with a husky whisper: “Fuck. Yes, Sir.”
This girl is happiest being owned and I’m lost in those words.
Many more Yes Sirs and repeating His declarations back to Him, and teasing, and playing, all whilst narrating His fingers’ exploration – so deliciously naughty and consuming.
I can come from that stimulation alone, and of course I did.

This night he didn’t fuck my ass but he fucked my pussy hard, and rough, and urgently, continuing to play with and finger my ass. Sending me into the abyss.
It was gritty, primal sex.
He demanded total control over all parts of me.
He fucked me out of my own head.
He used that which is His.
He owns me, every nook and cranny.
*happy sigh*

24/7 D/s is absolutely not all fucking and kink, but it is that, too.
Primal, stripped down versions of ourselves, in all aspects.
It’s not always easy, but it is a damn good life.
Happy Thursday!