Before My Bf Comes Home From Work I

"Sadists know that they enjoy hurting people. For most, it takes time to come to terms with that. And even when you’ve accepted your desire to inflict pain, building trust with a new person is always hard. To show the person you care about that you love their agony… It takes time. No one in kink exercises more self-restraint than the sadist."

The Slow Unfurling of Sadism

I don’t consider myself a masochist, but pain is an important part of my submission. Sometimes that feels weird to say—that I like pain and need pain, but I’m not a masochist. For me, the difference is that pain is an expression of my submission, not an end in itself. I enjoy the opportunity to give myself to my Dominant in ways that are hard for me. I enjoy knowing that I am a girl who doesn’t get choices, even if my Dominant chooses for me to suffer. And I need these “proof of ownership” moments, even when I don’t always enjoy them. 

But as someone who needs pain, I have dated sadists. Actually, I kind of adore them. Sadists are deeply emotionally aware. When you are a person who feels aroused and emotionally connected through inflicting pain, you learn to read every quiver, every trembling lip, the inflection of every scream. You become hyperfocused on your partner’s emotional and physical state because that’s what feeds you— and because you know what can go wrong.

Sadists know that they enjoy hurting people. For most, it takes time to come to terms with that. And even when you’ve accepted your desire to inflict pain, building trust with a new person is always hard. To show the person you care about that you love their agony… It takes time. No one in kink exercises more self-restraint than the sadist.

So this means people with deep emotional awareness are required to take serious emotional risks with their partners. This leads to an endearing pattern that I call the slow unfurling of sadism (alternate title: How Sadists are Like Shy Baby Groundhogs). Sadists tend to start slower than other D-types. They don’t cause a lot of pain right away. They test something out, then they back off a little. A flicker of pain, then back to soft and sweet. Then they push a little further, and then back off a little. Gradually, they create a safe space for their submissive to suffer—to let pain flow freely. They earn a submissive’s trust by showing they are in control and respect boundaries.

At the same time, they are also creating opportunities for their submissive to earn their trust—trust that they won’t be rejected and trust that what they are doing is consensual. Sadists need reassurance. Did you endure the pain out of submissive obligation, or did you want it? Did it mean something to you? They need to know if you felt a connection through the pain. They need to know if it turned you on. They need to know if you want more. As a submissive, I love these moments. I get to tell my partner that I love the glimmer in their eyes before they hurt me, or that I smile every time I run my fingers over the welts on my ass. I am honest about my limits, but I also show my sadist the joy I feel in serving through pain. 

The most rewarding moment is when a sadist looks deep into your eyes and tells you they want to lick the tears off your face while they make you scream. And then they do it. Because that’s when you know they’ve let you in. They’ve trusted you with a part of themselves that few people get to see, let alone love. That is a beautiful feeling, and well worth the time it takes to get there. 

my daily mantras:

i am not a person. i am an object for use. i exist to be used, fucked, and degraded. i am a toy, a fleshlight, a brainless piece of fuckmeat. i need all of my holes filled with cock and cum. i exist to serve. i am nothing if i am not being fucked and/or preparing myself to be fucked. i edge to dumb myself down and i brainwash myself to serve my true purpose. i must take cock in every hole as often as possible, especially my ass

There is something childishly magical.. so deeply satisfying about a submissive begging..  please spank me.  Perhaps one hand is bound and the other hand commanded to keep touching yourself. Fortunately cars don’t fall from clouds.   The deep level needed to  trust me implicitly.. the warm intense thrill coursing through your veins knowing how wet you are from just the anticipation of it  all You think about  incredible pent up glorious tension from how much you  touch yourself  leading up to this..  knowing how satisfying it is when you will see the marks that linger bringing flashbacks and that deep twinge of excitement in places you know  but don’t talk about with others to you every time you glance at them like  you are triggered to imagine it all again  and again.   It’s almost as if you can  imagine a time in the near future when you think back to  reminisce now  about how exciting it is.   You can’t help but  smile and cycle through it in your mind. Over and over.

Why denial is important:

A good girl knows that she needs to edge. She knows that she needs to edge as much as she possibly can, and stay as frustrated and horny as humanly possible. She knows this because she knows one very important thing:

sex isn’t for her. It’s for the people who use her.  And all of that edging, all of that work to bring herself to incredible levels of frustration and arousal are rendered moot the moment that she lets herself cum. Yes, an orgasm brings with it satisfaction and contentment, and it’s for those exact reasons that a good girl knows better. Because, after all, if she isn’t worked up… if she isn’t frustrated, and her cunt isn’t constantly yanking her attention back down to it, she runs the risk of forgetting one very important thing:

good girls exist to be used. And if she lets herself cum, she loses her edge. She loses all that pent up frustration and need. She loses her need to be used. But, she knows better.

“Do you want to cum?” He asked the girl writhing on the floor as another edge washed over her.

All she managed in response was a sound that can only be described as half moan, half whimper.

“How long have you been edging?”

“I don’t know.” She huffed. Her eyes floated and rolled as her fingers continued to rub her swollen red clit.

Amused, he asked, “Well, when did you start?”

“2:00”

He flicked his wrist to check the time. “You’ve been edging for three hours? Straight?” Another gasp as yet another edge rocked her body. “Yeah you do want to cum. Don’t you?”

“Yes Master, please!” The hope of an orgasm brought her from the fog of edging and desperation flooded her eyes. “Please Master! Please can I cum?”

“Yeah, you want to cum.” He crooned. Of course you want cummies. Look at what a mess you are. Three hours of edging! You’ve soaked the bed beneath you. But cunts don’t cum. Do they?”

“No Master.” She pouted. Cunts don’t cum.” Her fingers fell from her dripping cunt.

“Don’t stop” he warned and gave her that look, the one that always earned immediate obedience. When her sticky fingers again returned to pleasure, he continued. “Cunts don’t cum.”

“Yes Master. Cunts don’t cum.” She repeated the mantra.

“Cunts don’t cum.” He said, his voice deep and soothing, hypnotic even.

“Cunts don’t cum.” She repeated, not yet falling into the trance, still too desperate for an orgasm.

“And what are you?”

“I’m a cunt. I’m your cunt, Master.” She whined as she let another orgasm literally slip through her fingers, dancing on the edge.

“Yes. That’s right. You’re a cunt. My cunt. Cunts don’t cum.”

“Cunts don’t cum.” She confirmed. “Cunts don’t cum. Cunts never cum. Edge only.”

“Say it again.” His voice soothing and deep.

She started to fall into his words. Soothing and deep. Deep like the fog. Falling deep into the fog. “Cunts don’t cum. Edge only.”

“Not yet. I want you desperate a little longer. Cunts don’t cum.” He pulled her back from the fog of trance, just a little. Lucid but foggy. Desperate but dropping. “My cunt, why don’t cunts cum?” He asked.

Puzzled, and wanting to fall into the bliss of trance, she didn’t know how to answer. Her fingers continued rubbing her aching clit, sliding gently into her slippery hole, spreading her arousal across her smooth lips and thighs. “Because Master said so.”

“Good cunt. Obedient cunt. But why? Why don’t cunts cum?”

He pinched and twisted her pierced nipple, and bent to flick his tongue across the other. Another edge. His lips vibrated against her nipple as he growled his pleasure while she shook in frustration as the edge consumed her. As she edged, his pleasured moans competing against hers caught her attention.

He stood straight but continued to pinch and twist her nipples. She saw his cock growing hard in his pants, pressed against his zipper, and she knew. “Cunt edges for Master. Cunt edges in devotion to Master.”

“Yesss!” He sighed and freed his cock, taking it in hand and stroking it before her. “Every edge is an offering to me, your Master. Edge for me, my cunt.”

“Cunts don’t cum.” She said again in desperation. Her fingers barely even grazing her sensitive, desperate clit to another edge.

“Cunts don’t cum.” He repeated, his voice soothing and hypnotic again. Taking her down into the fog. “Cunts don’t cum. Edge for Master.” He continued to stroke his cock, pumping his hand rhythmically to his words.

“Cunts don’t cum. Edge for Master. Edge forever.” She embraced the fog. Embraced each edge. Welcomed the waves of escaping pleasure as a sacrifice to her Owner, her Master, the love of her life. The fog of trance swirling with his words, as she fell deeper into her own arousal. Each edge taking her deeper.

He stroked himself to the orgasm she wouldn’t have. His own sticky cum spilled from his cock, landing on her sticky fingers at her cunt as they brought on yet another edge. She continued to repeat his words. “Cunts don’t cum. Edge for Master. Edge forever.”

Sated, he slowly brought her out of the fog. Lifting her gently from trance. Counting up to clear the smoke, breathing deeply to think clearly. As the mists of trance disappeared, the ache in her denied cunt intensified. With her mind clouded only by the intense need to orgasm, the trance fully behind her, his fingers joined hers, dancing across her clit, plunging deep inside her, mixing his cum with her sticky arousal. He asked again, “Do you want to cum, my cunt?”

“No Master. Cunts don’t cum. Edge only.”

Does an older gentleman making you put on nipple clamps with little bells on them while you rub and edge yourself silly for his amusement sound hot to you?

Fascinating things happen when you notice someone that you recognize as truly special. It’s like there’s a part of you that becomes hyper aware, and it locks in on whatever you’re focusing on.

When that comes alive, it’s almost like you close off your awareness of your surroundings, and it’s just this one thing that commands all your attention, and you can’t ignore it.

It is as if it doesn’t even matter how much you try to turn away, you’re drawn closer. When you have a clear picture about something important, and you focus on it, there is another part of you that begins to take all the stuff that doesn’t matter and pushes it away.

Have you ever noticed how, as soon as your attention becomes aware of a trivial distraction, it shrinks it in your mind and screams at you to focus and snap you’re right back on what really does matter? All you have to do is realize that what you’re doing is important, and this part gets ready. This part that ignores the unimportant will take what really matters and make it grow bigger and brighter in your mind, so that nothing will distract you and the more you try to turn away, the more important this becomes.

Pathetic fuck toy is edging awake. Naked in bed. Vibe on clit. Drippy cunt. Pathetic fuck toy hasn’t cum for 546 days

There’s that little twinge again...

You’ve tried to fight it, but it just returns even stronger. You know that tiny itch in the back of your mind…. That pulls your attention between your legs. It needs your attention, Again. Just don’t think about it. Don’t touch yourself. Again. Don’t think about rubbing and feeling that tingle in just the way that you know makes you sink deeper now.

Be a good girl

please don't just edge me until i beg. edge me until i beg and then tell me no. edge me until i'm spending more time on the edge then not in my waking hours. edge me until my begging turns to sobbing. edge me until i'm so certain you will never say yes and give into my begging that my sobbing turns into pathetic pleas for mercy that my heart truly will never be given. edge me until i'm devoid of hope that i'll ever cum again because my love and devotion for you is much stronger then any desire to cum. That's when i want you to finally say yes