Reflections

Daddy asked me to reflect today on my slavery, what it brings to my life and what I can do to deepen my servitude. 

Today, I had a pretty bad freak out. I felt like this bottomless void had opened up and I just wanted to sink into despair and give up. 

My Master is my life. He is the center of my universe. For a while today, I got really caught up in some emotions that weren't based in truth. But I have been reminded, by friends, of things that I know are true. He loves me, dearly. He comes home to me everyday because he wants to be with me. 

Looking straight into the face of the despair, feeling as though I had lost him, I am reminded again of how much I need him. My slavery gives me structure. It keeps me safe. It gives me a sense of belonging and meaning. I love him so desperately. I get frightened sometimes of what would happen to me without him, but I'm not going to be without him. We made a commitment to each other and that is what is real. 

As far as deepening my servitude, I feel the answer is always taking better care of myself. This is an area where I really struggle. I need to get to the gym, get enough sleep, take care of my health. These are the things that give me the emotional and physical strength that I need to serve him as well as I can. 

Please forgive me, Daddy. 

PTSD, sore knuckles, and girl kisses Part 1

Prologue

Once upon a time, an American boy moved to China to teach english. He was happy there, and he was not often happy. He met a beautiful Chinese girl, named Shuo, and fell in love. He decided that he wanted to marry her. So, he talked to her about it. He was going to go back to America to make some money, so that he could support her, and they could start a family. 

But he didn't understand love well, and he thought Shuo was too naive, to inexperienced with the world. So, he convinced her too break off their relationship in hopes that when he was able to return for her that she would have lived a little and learned a little. 

He wasn't gone for a year when he heard that she had gotten married, gotten her green card and moved to San Francisco. He was heart broken. I took pictures of him with a ring box and he made a proposal video. She never responded, and I just knew it was my turn.

We started "dating." We were already living together at the time. I started hearing stories about Shuo. She managed to get back in touch with him. I couldn't take the stories. Every time that he mentioned her, I dissolved into a puddle of tears. But I loved him like my life depended on it. 

Two years passed

___________________________________________________

It was dark outside. I was drunk. He was drunk. I stood behind the kitchen island like it would protect me from him. 

"I hate that I can't ever talk to you about what's going on in my life."

"I really wish you would..."

"You can't handle it."

"I do my best. Let me try. Please."

"No."

"Please, let me try." Tears stung in my eyes.

"You can't handle what I'm going to say."

"Yes, I CAN!"


"Shuo came to visit me that weekend. Now, she is pregnant with my baby."

I felt the impact in my stomach, like I had been kicked. I slid to the ground, heaving and gasping for breath. I wish I could say that I blacked out and that was the end of the story... but I didn't and it wasn't. The baby turned out to be a lie, to prove to me that I couldn't handle what he had to say... but you can't take back words like that.

We talked all night, if you can call it talking; intermittently fighting, sobbing, yelling. We were getting on a plane in the morning to California. We had an interview for a postgraduate fellowship. Rather than staying in a hotel for the night before our interviews, he asked me to drive all night to San Francisco so that he could see her. I said yes. There wasn't anything else to say. He loved her... I had always been second choice. We were over. He had been my everything. In fact, he still was. I was nothing. 

The following morning, we got on the plane. Something felt terribly wrong. The clothes I was wearing felt like sandpaper on my skin. The roar of the plane was deafening and painful. I couldn't move, loaded into my seat like a sardine. There was a baby crying. I tried to sleep. I couldn't. I felt panic rising in the back of my throat like vomit. Or maybe that was vomit. The people behind me were talking too loudly. My mouth was dry. I couldn't relax in my seat. I tried to sleep. I couldn't. Every second felt like a day. I started wishing I would die. I didn't die. That two and a half hours felt like weeks. We landed in Houston. 

I would have clawed my way off that plane had it been possible. The feelings didn't stop. I found myself hyperventilating. I was frantic. Getting off the plane didn't help. But, he was with me. He got us to the next gate and on the plane. The feelings didn't stop. My skin felt raw, my nerves, my mind was awash in a sea of horrible, overwhelming (perfectly normal) sensations.

It was hot. 

The instant we pulled away from the gate, I knew it had been a horrible mistake. It was hot. We taxied out onto the tarmac and paused... the baby kept crying. The people kept talking. My clothes kept tearing my skin. It was hot. The panic had never stopped, but now it was worse. We sat on the tarmac, while I wanted to die, while I wanted to tear my skin off, while I just wanted everything to *cease*.

Forty-five minutes passed. The only thing that kept me in my seat was the idea that, IF fate/providence/god/gods saw fit, the plane would go back to the terminal. If the plane would just go back to the terminal, everything would be ok. If the plane would just go back to the terminal, everything would be ok. If the plane would just go back to the terminal, everything would be ok. If the plane would just go back to the terminal, everything would be ok.

The plane did go back to the terminal. It was missing some part. All of my thoughts, the grating, rasping, tearing, burning sensations told me to FLEE.

So, I did. I shared a rental car with this delightful alcoholic, lesbian flight attendant who dropped me at my parents' house. And the rest of that story... was my first manic break.

To give up everything

I missed my therapy appointment today. I felt sleepy and anxious, so I laid down for a nap. I set an alarm for an hour. I woke up 15 minutes after my session would have started. 

I told Daddy. I knew he would be unhappy with me. 

"This is unacceptable. As far as I am concerned, your therapy is your most important responsibility, even more than work. You will call and make catch-up appointments to make up for the time you have lost. If this behavior persists, I will have you become a stay-at-home slave/pet with no responsibilities to anyone other than me. Go cum in the bedroom floor thinking of that."

My career is so important to me. I worked so hard and lost so much getting that degree. With tears in my eyes, I laid in the floor of the bedroom and held my vibrator to my clit. The sadness and disappointment gave way to a feeling of sweet relief. I could literally spend every moment serving my beloved. He would be my sole responsibility. I could dedicate my time to serving him and raising beautiful, healthy children after he breeds me. 

In that moment of peace and sunlight, my eyes rolled back in my head and I came... hard. 

On my submission and slavery

For me, slavery is a promise. I promise to obey and shape myself to his will. He promises to command me and to take responsibility for the consequences of his commands. 

Slavery means that he will always own me, that I will never be free or alone again. His commands come before everything else in my life (I struggle with this). My days start and end with him. He is my god and I will worship. I will obey without question and in my obedience I will find freedom. 

Submission is a choice. It is a sign of respect. I voluntarily demean myself, subjugate myself to your will. In this way, I show you my love, my trust. I give you myself. This is not because I am not capable of standing alone. It is because I long to kneel at your feet, to feel the serene peace of giving myself to you. 

I love you. I worship you. I adore you. 

It's like a kinky fairytale

April 29th marked the one year anniversary of meeting the love of my life, the man who keeps the moon and stars in the sky, who owns my soul and demands my worship. 

This year has completely changed my life. I am not the person he met one year ago. I'm better and stronger, emotionally and physically. Words cannot express how grateful I am. To show him how much I love him, I continually strive to deepen my service to him. 

We get closer and closer everyday. Last night, we stood together in the shower and laughed like idiots. He's my best friend. He takes better care of me than I do. He taught me that I was a slave and has gently and firmly helped me to deepen my position below him. 

He's been forgiving of my weakness, understanding of my pain, all the while encouraging me to be a better version of myself. 

When he kisses me, the same electricity still shoots down my spine, weakening my knees and wetting my pussy. I still get the same thrill from the way he looks at me, the way he can be tender one moment and stern the next. 

I never expected to find love like this. I had given up. I had decided never to marry again. I wasn't willing to make that kind of commitment to anyone. 

I remember the day we talked about it. 

"When I ask you to marry me, you will say yes."

"Yes Sir," I said. 

That was it, end of discussion. I felt the fear quiver in my belly, the uncertainty in the back of my mind... But trust trumped it all. I let go.

We aren't engaged yet, but it has become a fact on the calendar of our lives. It's going to happen. Only he knows when. And I'm alright with that. I'm in no rush. The idea still frightens me, but it doesn't come close to the way that I love and trust him. 

Sometime in the next few months, I am going to get my first tattoo. Yesterday, I made a decision about it. I want Daddy to choose it. I want him to place it. And I don't want to see it until it is a permanent decoration on my body. I think it's a beautiful picture of the trust that I have in him and my desire to be marked as his. It will be a permanent I love you. 

Daddy, 

I cannot imagine my life without you and I don't ever want to try. I love you desperately and without reservation and I know you feel the same. For the first time in my life, I can be 100% me. I don't have to hide anything. I've never experienced transparency like this before. Thank you for loving me more than I have ever been loved and for accepting me for who I am. I cannot imagine a better person to have as my life partner, my PIC, my monster, my sounding board, my strength, the father of my children, and my beloved. Thank you for this beautiful year and thank you for all the years to come. 

I love you.

Mortal Combat: Catlytt vs. Anxiety... FIGHT!

Hello all, 

It's been too long since I have written. We have much to discuss. 

The past few months have been emotionally hard for me. I don't have a particularly good reason, but I have been struggling with my anxiety in a very overwhelming way. To ease the struggle, I have been filling my spare time with bad habits. I've been drinking too much... getting high enough that I cannot function... finding other ways to free my mind and my body from the constant feeling of butterflies in my stomach, racing thoughts, acid reflux, and intense, chronic fatigue. 

So I apologize to you, my dear reader, and myself for not respecting my body and mind as Daddy's priceless treasure and caring for myself as he cares for me. I have sorely neglected my duties. 

They say that bad news always comes in threes. It's been a little over a month now, but I had a week that totally wrecked me. It was a work week, so it was already fairly stressful. Master texted me on a Wednesday morning.

"My mom got diagnosed with lymphoma."

WHAT!? Who texts that sort of thing? So I called him and I was met with an almost disturbing calmness and a matter of fact acceptance(I was crying). 

Reeling from that discovery, Thursday, I got a call from the county jail. One of my best friends had just gotten arrested. He used me as his one call. The man has been going through a horrible divorce and his ex is a witch. She found a way to ruin his life, yet again. Angry and in protective mamma bear mode, I called his girlfriend. I called Master. I was livid that his ex was yet again able to grab him by the balls and do something like this. 

Monday: I called my mom to chat on my way to work. 

"Did you hear that your cousin had a stroke?"

WHAT?! 

"Last night, her husband called us this morning." 

My heart was racing... How could that happen? She's 36! She has five kids and a husband that need her. This is horrible. I got to work at 0700. I talked to my boss. By 0830, I was on the road north. I spent the morning at the hospital with her, her husband, and my uncle who few in from Montana overnight. 

She's alright. Thank goodness. She has a few lasting deficits which are resolving. The upside of this is that she is now getting the therapy that she needs to cope with her life and the massive responsibilities that she is always carrying.

Needless to say, I have been run ragged. Something had to be done...

I completely tapered myself off of my ADHD medication. I have been suspicious for some time that it was contributing to my anxiety (It is a stimulant, after all). This has significantly helped. I've also been very deliberate about taking time, every 2 weeks, to take time for myself: go get a manicure, a massage, something relaxing. It's starting to make a difference and I can feel the tension that has been a constant in my life beginning to unwind like a spring. 

An exciting side-effect of taking care of myself... is that each time I make a decision to prioritize my mental health, it opens up additional possibilities. 

For example, I have been going to the gym. I haven't been consistent enough to really call it a success yet, but I have noticed something that I hadn't noticed before. Last time that I tried to use exercise as a stress management technique, it made no noticeable difference. I think I was just too far gone. When you're in the middle of suicidal depression, lifestyle changes don't seem to help that much. This time, it's different. I actually feel amazing after I go to the gym. I didn't go first thing in the morning yesterday and I had a pretty crappy mood day, until I went to the gym in the evening. It completely fixed it.  

I'm feeling encouraged, for the first time in a long time. Thank you, my lovely readers, for waiting so patiently. 

Much love,

cat

You took me

I met you at the door. My hand slid behind your head as our lips met. My tongue pushed past your lips. I felt your body rise against mine. Then, your arms were around me. Surrounded by your strength, I released what little control I had. You explored my mouth aggressively with your tongue. 

Both your hands were on my shoulders. You began to push down. I fell gratefully to my knees. I smelled the leather of your belt as you worked the buckle. Jeans unzipped. Cock in my mouth. I greedily and eagerly sucked your cock. My tongue swirled around the head. 

"Get your gag."

I had received a dental gag in the mail the day before. You met me in the bedroom. You knelt beside me and fastened the buckle behind my head. Near my left ear I heard the steely click, click, click and the gag was opened further and further. With the gag in place, you took my throat. I love the feeling of your cock in my throat. I tightened and released my throat around your cock. I heard you moan. My saliva was coating your cock. Thick slippery gobs fell from your head. 

"On the bed."

As I rose, you roughly threw me forward onto the bed. I was bent at the hips, my torso on the bed. Saliva fell from my mouth in a puddle under my face as you entered my dripping pussy. 

I felt your hips slam into me at the same time I felt your cock strike my cervix. I moaned in pleasure. Again and again, you slammed into me. My moans turned to growls. With each thrust, I clenched my pussy tighter and tighter around you. Your hand fell repeatedly across my ass as you pounded me. Faster. Faster. I could not think. Drool streamed from my gaping mouth. I remember searing pain as you continued to spank me. Each thrust of your cock brought me closer and closer to the brink. 

I waited. I always wait. I don't want to cum without your command, ever. 

"Cum, bitch!" you growled. 

I let myself fall right off the cliff. I lost myself in my orgasm, my body twitching and writhing. You fucked me so hard that I could barely stay on the bed. I felt your body tense and your cock throb as you pumped your cum into my hungry pussy. You stayed there, with your cock as far in me as it would go, for a few seconds. Then you were gone. 

I slid from the bed. My knees buckled and I landed on my side on the floor. That's where you found me when you returned, exhausted, high from the depth of our passion, crumpled on the floor in a heap. 

"Good girl." 

"Thank you Sir." I whispered. 

Poetry from darker times

As a preface to this: I wrote these poems late one night after getting into a horrible fight with a loved one. It was a very dark time in my life. I am not there anymore. I hope that in allowing people to see the darkness that I have escaped that they might have hope.

1

my life is fucked beyond all reason

like a man in his twenties who is losing his hair

the sex appeal dies early

all that is left is a sea of pale smooth skin

glistening by the light of the moon

2

orgasm

such a sinful word

or-gasm

as though you had a choice

get on with it girl

they are waiting for you

3

i met a man once 

whose eyes were full of promises,

kisses, dreams,

all the things for which a girl creams

but he was no different

the dreams were lies and 

the kisses screams

tear my heart out baby

without you it is dead

but it was dead anyway

4

tears kiss me sweetly

my eyes my face

streaming with joy or pain

screaming the same

the world is a dull dull grey

full of digust no play

kiss me darling

kiss me sweetly

for tomorrow brings nothing but the same

5

harness

rock

penis

break

scream

die softly

bleed

slowly dissolve into the soil

flesh to dirt

blood to water

just the same

no different than any other

6

cliché

that same hackneyed phrase

don't test me darling

i know your name

you cry you preen

your skeleton shines in the 

moonlight gleam

you are empty i say

but your face only smiles

cliché

eyes empty like pits

get away from me with your dreary kiss

take your grin 

take it away I say

there is no room in my life 

for such a cliché as

once upon a time

7

fortune favors the prepared

what about the rest of us poor fucks

what about the meuling creeping public

what about the worthless self-saboteurs 

we get to die in our own shit

with no dignity and no choice

your laughter is cheap and hollow now

your voice it merely stings

my heart is in a ruin love

beside all of our things

what use to plan a life

when fate you can't predict

to hell with human nature

that is what truly reeks

you cannot know yourself until 

you have truly seen your darkness

your filth

your smut

disgusting sour putrefying shit at the bottom of your soul

that filthy tar baby that sucks you in

smothering you and all the light that is left

as the filth closes over your head

you gasp your last breath

the tar flows around you now

in you

the ghastly taste is in your mouth

creeping down your throat

you can feel your life receding from its onslaught

8

there are different types of darkness

the mother's womb quiet and safe

the blackness of lace at a funeral

dusty and cloying

and the blackness of death

destroying decaying

taking all that was precious and turning it to dust

no matter how you hide in the light

darkness will find you

what is light without its antithesis 

but for the sunlight streaming in your window

you couldn't see the dust

the fragments of your life

no fallen apart and dying at your feet

you may try to hide your face

but the sickening smell creeps into your nostrils

it tears your heart and rends your mind

separating you from all your kind

your pain a stain upon a fresh cotton cloth

no washing will remove

just as your blood burns your heart

leaving an eternal scar

an altar to those you lost

Hold me so tightly that it hurts

It feels like someone staring at the back of your head, that feeling you get when you just know that you are being watched. Just a little bit of tension in the shoulders. The hairs stand up on the back of your neck. You feel the need to whip around suddenly, but the idea scares you. 

That is how I feel. 

It's just a little too familiar. It's too similar to the past. It's setting me on edge. Depression is wrapping its shroud around me, lulling me into pitiful despair. 

He said it today... or maybe it was yesterday, "You need to talk to your doctor. It seems like you are getting worse." My heart sank. I have been trying to not see it for weeks now. He is so patient, so understanding, so much kinder than I feel like I deserve. He doesn't get upset when my moods keep me from helping around the house, or when I have surprise anxiety attacks, or sudden anger... when my words turn to shards dripping poison. I get a gentle reminder, a firm hand on my arm, a whisper in my ear. "I should spank you for this." 

I feel like my discipline is fading. I feel like I am losing my purpose: to serve my Master with everything that I am. 

It's a difficult line for him to walk, trying to protect my mental health and still provide the discipline and structure that I crave. I don't know if there is a right way. I don't know how to deal with my fragile emotional state. All that I know is that I want his hands on me. I want him to take me. I want to be his plaything. I want to be helpless in his arms. I want to be used for his pleasure, to satisfy those carnal cravings for fear and pain. 

I want to serve! I was born and raised to serve! I'm so frightened that I will lose this... lose focus on something that brings me so much joy. I am beginning to feel like I'm not contributing anything... I don't know if this is just depressive chatter in my head or if it is the truth. I have never really felt that I had much to contribute... but I felt safe and secure in my slavery. I feel as though that is slipping away. 

Oh, Daddy. I am frightened. Your little slave girl is frightened, and disappointed in her weakness, and so desperate for you. 

Bipolar... Just like Earth!

I imagine my consciousness as a ship in the middle of a huge ocean. For most people, the seas are generally calm. Not for me. All around, the sea batters the ship. Winds buffet the sails. I feel as though I am tossed thither and yon by the waves of emotion. 

Thankfully, I have Master. He is my anchor. He is the person who weathers my moods. He holds me when I am laughing and crying hysterically. It's been over 6 months now. My mind is just now beginning to grasp the fact that he isn't going anywhere. Not only that, but he isn't letting ME go anywhere. To me, that's a really big deal.

Bipolar disorder frequently causes impulsive behavior. In my personal experience, this can mean that I suddenly stop valuing very important things in my life: my health, relationships, physical safety... A promise to keep me means that if I fail, he will be there to keep me from doing something stupid, reckless, or ill-advised. 

It is hard for me to express my gratitude to him without becoming very emotional (Ha!). 

Thank you, Daddy. You have saved my life. You have saved me from myself. 

Worship

The pain went through me like a hot coal: searing, burning. 

I bent over playfully and presented my ass for Master, just the way he likes. I moaned with pleasure as he ground his cock against me. 

Hands on my knees, I moaned as he toyed with me. 

His hand struck my pussy. Hard. I yelped. 

Again. 

Again.

Again.

"Cum bitch." 

I began to shake as I let the orgasm roll over me. 

Again.

Again.

My knees started to give. 

Again. 

Again. 

"Stay up bitch!"

I shrieked. I screamed. He had no mercy. 

He commanded me to keep cumming as I struggled to stay standing. I clutched a box before me on the floor for balance. 

Again.

And again.

And again. 

He stopped. 

I fell to my knees before him. He held me tightly. My face pressed against his crotch. I could feel his erect cock through his jeans. 

"Good girl."

Those are my favorite words. 

"Good girl." 

Weak with endorphins, I sat down hard and I worshiped. 

She laughed until she cried

She laughed until she cried... It was a miracle.

I hadn't been home for six months. (For those of you who have forgotten about my disastrous visit, you can check it out here.) Master told me, at the time, that I wasn't going home again without him. But still, even knowing that he would be there, I was terrified. I told my mother that I was bringing him to Thanksgiving at the beginning of October. 

We had been on the phone for about 30 minutes, gabbing, shooting the shit... Things had been relatively back to normal for a while. In my head, I was trying to get up the courage to tell her. I didn't ask.

"I'm going to bring _____ (insert Master's name here) to Thanksgiving. 

There was a pause on the line... 

"Ok."

"You know we've been dating for six months..."

"Oh... Well, I will be happy to buy your ticket. You will have to get _____'s."

I let it go. It went over better than I expected, really. We moved along with the conversation. I was able to relax and let out a sigh of relief. 

The next morning, I got a text message. "Dad would like to buy both of your plane tickets for y'all to come for Thanksgiving." All right Dad! Way to be progressive and understanding! Wooooo! (Small victories, ok?) It took me a couple of weeks to find a good deal, and I bought the tickets. 

I started having nightmares. (Yes, folks... I have PTSD) Several nights a week, I would dream about fighting with my parents. These weren't little arguments. These were rage-fueled, violent arguments. I usually woke myself crying. The dreams lasted for two or three weeks. 

One day, I called my mother to catch up. Historically, we have been really close, like best friends. She was prattling on about preparing for Thanksgiving. It is a really big deal in my family: china, crystal, the whole nine yards. 

"I've thought about it and ____ can stay in your room. You can stay on the fold-out bed in my office." (Remember: no vile, evil, extra sinful premarital sex going on here!)

"I've actually found us an AirBnB."

...

"Oh, ok." She sounded awkward, as though the thought of us sharing a bed made her uncomfortable. I'm sure it did. 

I had a short respite, and my sleep eventually returned to normal (medically induced coma). However, the anxiety came back, during the day. 

I struggle with anxiety and depression as a part of my bipolar disorder. Normally, I can control the anxiety: get plenty of sleep, exercise, take a walk, something. This was crippling. Add in that I was about to start a new job, and what have you got? Dysfunction...can't get off the couch, must hide under a blanket anxiety. I tried everything: prescriptions, marijuana, alcohol, herbs... Nothing really took care of it. I tried mixing combinations of things to little avail. It kept getting worse until the night before we flew. 

That night, I didn't bother sleeping. We needed to be at the airport at 0400 anyway. I got caught up in preparations, packing, etc. I was emotional, yes. I was on-edge, yes. But I was functional. I think I was just kind of in shock.

We arrived at my parents house around 1930. I felt as though everything happened in slow motion. My mom came out of the backdoor. I scrambled to get out of the car. All the while, information was streaming in. She looks happy. She isn't hiding anything. She is glad to see me... us! I could barely wrap my mind around it. I ran to her and picked her up in a bear hug. When I put her down again, Master was out of the car. She ran over to him and happily introduced herself. I felt like I was in a dream. In fact, writing this is bringing tears to my eyes. We went inside. My dad was in the livingroom. He is glad to see us! He stands and warmly introduces himself to Master and shakes his hand. 

IT WAS A THANKSGIVING MIRACLE. 

We talked until well after my parents' bedtime. We had fun chattering and laughing like Master had always been a part of the family. My mother laughed until tears streamed down her face. 

When Master and I got to where we were staying, the dam holding back my emotions buckled. I broke down in tears of relief and anxiety and put myself right to bed. 

The next day, we rose early and went to my parents' house to steal some breakfast. My mother roped me into helping her prepare the house. We laid out the tablecloths and the napkins and the napkin rings and the good silver and the crystal glasses. While we were working, my father, in a completely atypical fashion, offered to take Master on errands with him to hang out and get out of our way.

It made me nervous, but my mother told me not to worry. So, I did my best not to. We finished setting the table, and we sat down for a minute. I felt exhausted, which led into feeling anxious. Within just a few minutes, I called Master and asked when he was going to be home. 

So, the days went on: happiness and merrymaking punctuated by anxiety that led me to hide in my room with Master at my side. My mother laughed until tears streamed down her face. Not only did my parents love him... my ENTIRE family loved him! My friends loved him! As I began to adjust, my anxiety lessened a little. 

We said goodbye to my parents the night before we flew. I cried. It was the first time in years that I didn't want to leave home. 

It was the best Thanksgiving that I have ever had. I'm still in shock. I can hardly believe it. I'm so grateful. It really was a miracle. 

I can still see her face. Her eyes were bright with smiles and laughter and wet with tears as she looked at us. 

Cum from last night

... is still in my hair where he wiped it as they left me on the bed exhausted and used. 

A week or more ago Master mentioned to me that he had gotten an interesting message. (Most people, after looking over my profile, contact me... I am the sex object, but I am not the one in charge. The best way to play with me (and really the only way) is to go through Master.) The message was from a guy named Hadrix. Rather than contacting me, he wrote directly to my Master and inquired about the acquisition, care and keeping of a slave like myself. After some correspondence between the two of them, they decided to meet. I came along as an accessory.

Master asked me to wear a see-through top, but was kind enough to allow me to wear pants and boots. It was a chilly evening. I rifled through my closet. It probably took me 90 minutes to get dressed. (It's a challenge to find something that is both see-through and warm. That, and I'm terribly vain.)

Right around the time that I started getting dressed, I started getting nervous. 

We met in a dimly lit restaurant, unfortunately, not dark enough for any shenanigans. Hadrix was interesting. We enjoyed conversation over our meal, some about kink, some about life in general. I had a few drinks with dinner. When we had all finished our food, Master decided (but he respected my input) that Hadrix was alright. We invited him back to our place. 

We talked about getting more alcohol on the way back, but I felt so comfortable with Hadrix that I told Master that it wasn't necessary (which is truly a credit to him, my social anxiety is formidable).

When we got home, I stretched out luxuriously on the sofa. Hadrix and I were discussing materials for sex toys. He brought up stainless steel. I excitedly scampered across the room and presented for him my favorite toys: my Njoy pure plug and my Njoy pure wand. His eyes lit up in appreciation as I made myself comfortable on the sofa again, but Master had other plans. He stood over me.

"Take off your pants."

It wasn't a suggestion. It was a command. I know better than to dawdle when Master uses that tone. My pants hurriedly thrown aside, my legs obediently spread wide, Master thrust his fingers inside me. 

"Cum, bitch." 

My eyes rolled back in my head, and I gave my body over to the waves of pleasure. Master likes to put me through my paces for guests, show off the capabilities of his slave. Master motioned for Hadrix to take over. With hardly a lapse, there was a new set of fingers inside me. Master walked into the other room to bring out our toys. (This is the point where the whole evening became fuzzy for me, i.e. I began my descent into subspace.)

Though my ongoing orgasm, I could make out fragments of conversation. Then, I heard chains. The sharp rattling of heavy chain shot through my reverie like a bullet. I know that sound. Master and I both have a set of clamps. Mine are decidedly gentler. These were not my clamps. I could tell by the sound. 

Master handed the clamps to Hadrix, who weighed them in his hands with appreciation. With one hand he reached down and tweaked my right nipple, hard, rolling it between his fingers. He pulled it slightly. Pinch, followed by searing pain, pain that makes your vision strange and your mind foggy. As the pain from my right nipple began to lessen into a dull roar... Pinch.

I cried out in pain as my vision whited out. 

Smack. A hand fell hard on my clit. I don't know who it was. I just remember the sting and the smart, the second blow before the pain of the first subsided, the third, the fourth... I lost count. 

(If this were a movie... we would fade to a white screen here.)


via GIPHY

I heard the sound of voices. 

Someone lifted the heavy chain from between my breasts. There was a subtle tug as a third chain was attached in the middle. Unceremoniously, my pussy was spread wide and the last clamp was applied to my clit, behind my piercing. 

"Get on your knees." 

In my haze, I sat up. Instinctively, I lifted the weight of the chain off my chest to alleviate the instant increase in pain. 

"Drop it."

I let the chain fall. I felt a tug as the chain fell, followed by a slow, but steady increase in pain from my nipples and my clit. 

"Crawl around the table."

Down on all fours, the chain swung with my body as I crawled. The clamp slipped from my clitoris. Without a word, I sat back on my heels and waited. Hadrix tried a couple of times to replace the clamp to no avail. He clipped it firmly to my pussy lip. The pain was surprisingly dull and subtle. I resumed my crawl. 

I rounded the table once. Twice. Three times. My consciousness continued to fade. The subtle pain from my vulva had increased to an ache that I couldn't ignore. There was nothing but the pain with every motion. Move right hand. Move right leg. Move left hand. Move left leg. 

"Back on the couch."

The pain subsided slightly as I laid back. But, I knew what came next. I gritted my teeth and turned my face into the back of the sofa as the clamps came off. I yelped. (Clamps hurt way worse coming off. At least the pain doesn't last.) 

Master brought out my dildo. (I will pause for a moment to mention that I like pretty sex toys... and I generally have expensive taste. My dildo, however, was a bargain and I have been very happy with it. If you are interested you can check it out here.) He pushed the suction cup firmly onto the top of one corner of the coffee table. 

"Fuck yourself. Now."

Obedient, albeit wobbly, I walked to the table, spread my legs and sat down on the dildo. The pleasure was a welcome change in the pain-induced haze, but the relief didn't last. The quicker I fucked, the more my legs began to burn. I tried supporting myself on the table to no avail. 

"Who told you to stop?"

I struggled to lift myself up. Seeing my exhaustion, Master allowed me to rest. Granting my earlier request, he ordered me to shower. 

I stood under the shower water, dazed. In fact, washing myself was a surprising amount of effort. Forget that, standing was hard. 

I turned off the water and toweled off. When I opened the bathroom door, Master gave me until the count of three to be in the bed. I dropped my towel and sprinted into the bedroom. I fell into bed just as he said, "One." 

Master handed me my wand and instructed me to squirt for our guest. I tried, but was unable. That has literally never happened before. "I'm dehydrated, Sir." I breathed. 

Master lifted my new pussy pump out of my toybox. He placed it over my vulva and began evacuating the air. It starts with a gentle tug, quickly escalating to an ache, increasing in intensity until I cried out. Master turned to Hadrix and said, "She loves vacuum play. She is such a good whore." 

They toyed with me, slapping my tits, pulling on my pussy using the suction. The pain was exquisite...dull, with an amazing sensation of blood rushing into my clit. My pussy lips and clit began to swell, increasing my sensitivity. Master released the vacuum. He reached down and fondled my swollen lips. Smack. His hand fell on my aching pussy. I screeched in pain. Surprised by the vigor of my reaction, a small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. He struck me again. I let out a second yelp, louder this time. 

"On your stomach, slave."

Master dragged me sideways across the bed. He took my pussy and Hadrix took my mouth. Everything was a haze. Master's thrusting from behind drove me farther down on Hadrix's cock. I struggled for breath. My eyes watered. 

"Cum. Now." 

Master never raises his voice, but I am trained to pick it out. Even in my nearly complete stupor, I heard his voice. My body went rigid as the waves of pleasure washed over me. I convulsed as Master continued to pound me. 

"Are you still sucking his cock, bitch?" 

"Get back down on it." Hadrix pulled my face down hard on his cock, choking me. 

"Don't you stop cumming or you will be in a great deal of pain."

I could hear the danger in Master's voice. I struggled to maintain my orgasm, clenching tight around Master's cock while greedily sucking Hadrix. (Pause for a moment here, if you have never considered before how difficult it is to remember to do so many things while deep in subspace. The only thoughts left are simplified. Pain. Pleasure. Breath. Fear. Now, try maintaining an orgasm, clenching, sucking and breathing, trying not to choke on your saliva and snot. Sounds tough, right?) 

I started to choke, coughing hard. I heard Master suggest that we all take a break. 


"Are you thirsty, little one?" 

I nodded my head. 

"Get in the bathroom. Head in the toilet. Have a drink."

I struggled to my feet and walked into the bathroom. I knelt, unceremoniously, before the toilet, looked over my shoulder at Master and began lapping at the water. Master walked around behind me and began fucking me again. I braced myself against the bowl to avoid hitting my head and kept drinking. When Master decided I was finished, he ordered me back to the bed. 

"Face up this time."

They took turns: Hadrix in my pussy, Master in my mouth, Hadrix in my mouth, Master in my pussy. I was only vaguely aware of the short breaks while they switched. 

Breathe. Orgasm. Choke. Vicious spanking. Breathe. Choke. Focus hard on cumming, trying to force whomever was in my pussy out by clenching. Breathe. Spanking. Just don't stop cumming. Focus. Don't stop. 

I have no idea how long they went on, only that it was in the wee hours of the morning when Master decided to call it. I stroked Hadrix as Master came hard inside me. I could feel his cock throbbing inside of me. Hadrix flipped me onto my stomach and fucked my face until he came, spewing his load into my mouth. I choked again and my eyes watered. Sucking every last drop off, I opened my mouth and showed him his accomplishment. 

I swallowed and collapsed on the bed. 

Sleep. 

Cum from last night is still in my hair where he wiped it as they left me on the bed exhausted and used.