Monday, September 21, 2009

If You Seek Amy

My musical tastes are pretty wide ranging. I listen to everything from opera to rap. I love the classical rock that I grew up with (I refuse to call it "the oldies"). I appreciate the relevance of rap lyrics (even the nasty ones). Classical music of all types touch my soul deeply. Folk music makes me want to march in a protest. What I most often listen to is current and contemporary...rock, hip-hop, alternative, pop. I also have a tendency to sing along. So...the other day, I was working in the kitchen and singing along to a CD when my son walked through. He stopped and listened a minute, then he said, "Do you even know what you are singing?" "Sure", I answered and kept singing. "No, really Mom, listen to the words." I listened for a minute and heard nothing other than what I had sung. "When she says, if you seek Amy, she's really saying...F.U.C.K. me." After he told me that, there was so much I left unsaid. I still sing along, I just smile now. I'm not nearly as old as he thinks I am.

Speaking of F.U.C.K. me, J was here last week. The frequency of His visits has increased lately. I am very happy about that. The more I am with Him, the more that I want Him. Though we had been together just two weeks before, I needed Him badly. I needed to serve Him, I needed His cock, I needed Him to spank me. I know the time we share is a far cry from 24/7, but I wonder if I could ever get enough. The past two years have only made me want Him more, want to give Him more. I feel that we are just beginning our journey, there is still so much I want to experience with Him. I belong to Him, with my entire being. He gives me strength, He makes life bearable, He gives me a sense of purpose and He defines my identity in a way I have never known before. There is a certain rightness about lying over His lap, naked and surrendered. Receiving His spankings calms me, relaxes me (okay, maybe not right at that moment), affirms my place with Him.

J, I will be yours forever. I hope you choose to accept me as long.

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Trust, truth and reality

Swan and Chloe both have written recent posts about honesty and trust in their relationships and how that plays out in their dynamics. I started to comment on each of their posts, but decided I had more to say and thought I would muse about it here. Bear with me as I ramble on to some sort of conclusion.

Before my relationship with J, I had huge trust issues. In the past, I had been lied to and betrayed in so many ways. Those lies and betrayals had distorted my reality and caused me to question even my own judgement. I was guarded and jaded and had withdrawn from all intimacy in any relationships. When I met J, that all changed. I can give you all sorts of reasons, but I don't really know why it was different. Perhaps it was His manner, or maybe I was just ready, possibly it was just in the stars for us to be together, whatever the reason (or all of them together), I trusted Him.

It has been two years, I have never had a reason not to trust Him. As far as I know, He has never lied to me. He has shown love and concern for me. He has never harmed me, He looks out for me, He keeps me safe. That is my reality. That is what I know to be true. After reading their posts, I began to think about the importance of honesty. Previously, I would have said that honesty was of utmost importance, that I could never tolerate being lied to. However, if I found out that J had lied to me, I cannot see that it would change my reality. I would still believe that He loved me, I would still believe that He would protect me, I would still believe He wants me in His life. That would still be my reality. My trust has been built on what He has shown me. The truth has been based on what He has told me. Those do not necessarily have to be the same thing.

My ex-husband told me many things...all lies. He also showed me that he did not care about me, that he did not respect me, and he harmed me repeatedly. There was no safety or security with him. With J, I am safe and secure. I can count on Him. He has demonstrated a consistency and a stability. My reality is based on what I know to be true (what I have seen and experienced), not what I have been told to be true. In that respect, my truth is relative.

Now, let me clarify, I have do not believe that J has ever lied to me. I believe everything He tells me. But, I understand what Swan and Chloe are saying. Withholding information or even an outright lie, would not shatter my trust. I trust Him to tell me what I need to know, I trust Him to keep me safe and respect our relationship. Swan says it best with theses words: In my world, inside of our dynamic, His word defines the fact and the reality. I live my life completely within the boundaries defined by His word and His vision. That is my truth. Anything else, is just not all that important.

Conversely, He requires me to tell Him what is on my mind. He expects me to share my thoughts, my needs and my desires with Him. I try very hard to comply with His expectations and His trust. It is important, it enables Him to know where to take us. It enables Him to define our dynamic and our reality. Just as He decides what I need to know, He also decides what He needs to know. I am very happy, content and secure to abide by those decisions He makes. I am very pleased by the reality He has defined for me. The truth (and the reality) is that I am His.

Thursday, September 3, 2009


I have been fairly quiet in the blogospere for a while. Sometimes, life gets the best of me and I don't feel I have anything worthwhile to say. Other times, I have plenty to say, but no energy left to say it. The past month has been a little of both.

I think that both J and I have been battling with life's stresses and demands. For each of us individually, the demands of work and home have been considerable. It is us, together, that keeps me going. Not only His support and caring of me, but my devotion to Him. This year has not been bad, but it has been wearing, for both of us. When life becomes that busy and that tiresome, there is simply not much time or energy left over for play. We still have made time for each other, it has just been a bit more subdued.

My fantasies have still leaned toward pushing the limits and severity. My desires and actions have been more towards service to Him and my need to submit. While our last few visits have not been vanilla, they certainly have been more restful and restorative for both of us. This week, we managed to carve out some time together. His visit was short, but it was just what the doctor ordered. As always, it was exactly what I needed and He knew exactly how far to take me. The play wasn't as intense as we have explored in the past, but for my state of mind and the time that we had, it was the perfect reboot for us.

I wanted Him. I yearned and hungered for Him intensely. It had not been that long since we had been together, but it seemed like an eternity. I was craving His taste, his smell, His touch, it was a sense of urgency I felt. It was more than a want, it was a requirement, not as in a demand, but as a basic air or water. I needed to be marked, I needed to be controlled, I needed to be completely His.

Our time together started slowly and back to basics. He sat, fully clothed, as I stood before Him and undressed. He watched me and He turned me around, I was naked and vulnerable and I was His. He kissed me and He touched me. He made me cum, quickly and consumingly. I undressed Him and I worshipped Him...with my mouth, with my hands, with my body. I licked Him, I sucked Him, I touched Him and I revelled in His presence. I immersed myself in His taste, touch and smell. I memorized His body with my tongue, my lips and my fingers. I buried my nose into Him, sniffing and inhaling all of His scents and fragrances. I licked Him all over, the length of Him, from His neck down. Savoring Him and marvelling at the topical geography of His body. My tongue exploring the smooth, flat places, the crevices, the curves, some places soft, some rough, some hairy. I love the way He smells, from soapy and clean, to earthy and sensuous. His smell (all of them) make me want to devour Him and feed off of Him. He lay back and let me bathe Him like a cat, licking and lapping with my tongue.

I lingered at His cock. Licking from base to tip and sliding my mouth down over it. His cock is perfect to me, the perfect size, perfect shape, perfect taste, perfect in the way it satisfies me. I love the way it feels in my hand, hard and firm when I wrap my fingers around it. I love the way it feels sliding into my cunt, pushing into me, impaling me. I particularly love the way it feels in my mouth, feeding me, filling me, gagging me. Sucking His cock makes my cunt ache and drip and throb for Him. It also makes me crave and beg and hunger for His cum. I begged and pleaded and stroked and sucked and licked. I felt His balls tighten, His body tense, His cock grow even harder, I became more focused, more urgent. Then I felt His fist grip my hair, teasing me, holding me still as He came, on my face, on my hair, before letting my mouth find Him again. Letting me taste it, drink it, suck and clean every last drop from Him.

While all of that (and our subsequent touching, exploring, love making) turned me into one hot, quivering mess. That was not really the reboot. The reboot was the marking of me, my spanking and my caning. I am still sitting lightly and gingerly because of it. He had me lie face down on the bed. He ran His hands over me, he ran the cane over me. He spoke to me, He asked me what I wanted. I asked for His marks, I asked for His strokes, I needed it, I wanted it. His voice and His hands caressed me and lulled me. I relaxed into Him. His voice was the siren's song to me. As He spoke, the cane tapped a rhythm on my ass. He watched me slip into that floating state and then He brought hard, fast strokes down, leaving red, raised welts. There was more rubbing, soothing, relaxing, then more heavy strokes and stripes. His voice was constant and calm, it led me, controlled me, focused me. His hand rubbed over the welts, tracing them, feeling them and then I was spanked, over the cane marks on my ass and my thighs. Each time, whether from His hand or the cane, I cried out or squirmed away, He would pet me, stroke me and shush me. When I calmed and began to float away again, He would add a mark. It was perfect, just remembering and reporting it, has me wet and wanting again.

Please Sir, may I have some more?