'I can't imagine anything more worthwhile than doing what I most love. And they pay me for it.'

Well, tomorrow is really the first day of work. 

Hitting the ground running. 

Talk about major stress?!  

I'm excited and nervous and worried and happy and just a swirl of a million things! 

And within all this is a dash of fear. Not because of the unknown to the day... but the fear of change. 

I've been lucky to have so much free time with Master, but that will change. 

I dont have the type of job where I can just go in, work, leave and relax at home. 

I have to bring my work home with me. 

And from experience, I know that takes up a lot of my time. 

I worry that there will be less time to be with Master. Less time to relax and play. 

I worry that there wont be time. 

wooo

I now have proper internet installed!
Now I have no excuse to not blog!

"No woman gets an orgasm from shining the kitchen floor"

Maybe not... but I just had a near miss.

It was so hard to restrain myself from cumming like a naughty little harlot.

As ordered today... when I wanted a drink, I was to pour it into a bowl, place it on the floor, get down onto my hands and knees and drink from the bowl.

My face was burning from the deep body blush I felt as I dropped down onto my knees. Feeling the hard, cooled floor under me. Dropping my back, feeling my palms on the floor. Looking down at my reflection in the water as my head moves closer to it. Moaning as I start noisily lapping at the water. My hair falling into the bowl, my face wet with water. Gripping the floor with my nails, trying to ignore the desperate twitches and shivers of my cunt. Breathing deeply, keeping my body obedient to his will.


Thank you, Master, for allowing your snowflake, your babygirl, your slave and your slut, to drink from your bowl.

Please?

"It's Topy Turvy Day!"

*grins* I enjoyed finding the title of today's post.

I flirted with the idea of something from Midsummer Night's Dream, but nothing I could find felt totally right.
The title I've picked (lyrics from Disney's "Hunchback of Notre dame, for those that are interested) doesn't fit exactly either, but its cute and fun and happy, and thats how I feel today.

I did get to speak to Master last night.
Ravaged him like some sex starved little nymph as soon as he sat down.
Eager, much?

After the steam cleared from the windows (and no, I didnt smear my hand over the steamed glass!) we got talking about Master's day...

Now, I have to stop and tell you, that Master is big on plans and order. He spends time thinking and making a plan, then he follows the plan to the letter.

.... and it didnt seem like it was following the plan. People messing up his plan for the day, things not working out, things not being very orderly.

Half in jest (great word, "jest".. must use it more!) I said something like
"It must have made you glad to know that there was one person in your day that would do what you say, when you say it"
And he agreed.

This is where the title of the post comes in.
Kinda topsy turvied me!
I need Master to make me safe by making my life run smoothly and easily.
And in that half-a-minute snapshot of conversation, it hit me.
Master needs me for the same thing. Or something similar at least.

In the most horrible or days, I cling to the knowledge that he will be there to bring me order. Thus bringing me comfort.
In Master's horrible day, he can cling to the knowledge that I will be there to follow his order. That regardless of how his plans spiral out of his control, he always has control over something.

Me.

Oh fuck I've been missing him today. He loves the place he's fixing up... but I'm feeling fucking jealous of it. Stupidfuckingbuildingkeepinghimawayfromme.... and breatheeeee.

I feel like a naughty submissive at Christmas time... before, it was "if I go to be early enough, Santa will be here soon!" now, its more like "If I'm submissive enough, then Master will be here soon!"

I've been teasing myself with submissive sex stories, wanting to be super submissive and open for him when he returns. And its either write here, or cum. As I dont have permission to cum (nor the means to ask for permission  *grumblesabouthouseanddistance*) I'm writing here.

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"Sure, I that can be arranged..... Well, it will take some time, booking flights and packing.... Oh, excuse me, someone is at the door, I'll just be a moment"

"Come in!"

I push the door open with my nose and, like instructed, crawl into his office wearing nothing but my nipple rings. Between my teeth is the metal chain attached to my nipple clamps. I crawl over to his chair and kneel before him, resting my ass on my heels. My cheeks hot and red as I move my hands up to my chest, wrists hanging down, like a dog begging.

"No, I'm still here... no, nothing important"

He roughly kicks my knees apart, then turns back to his computer, the phone tucked against his ear.

My smooth lips are covered in my juice. I'm kneeling on the floor, begging like a dog, with nipple clamps held delicately between my teeth, being ignored by Master as "nothing important". And I'm soaked. I'm aroused. I can smell how aroused I am... and that makes me blush harder and my pussy spasm as I get wetter.

I keep my position beside his chair, but after what feels like hours, my knees start to throb. I shift a little to try and get comfortable.

slap 


I jolt and my big, worried eyes fly up to his face. My cheek stings. Not painfully so, I'm more shocked than hurt. Murmuring is agreement to something down the phone he holds out his hand and I carefully drop the nipple claps into his palm.

"I dont know, I think whatever we do should be quiet for now" He looks down at me and I nod in understanding. Quiet. Ok. I can do quiet. I think...hope.

"We dont want things happening too quickly..." I tune out the conversation as I sit, fascinated, as his fingers rub over the chain on the clamps. He motions a finger up, and I lift my torso, presenting my already hard nipples to my Master's gaze.

He grasps the nipple ring on one, and flicks and tugs it ideally while he continues to talk on the phone. My betraying hips soon start bucking into the air, my body leaning closer to him. He stops, and I want to cry out in protest. But I cant. Must be quiet. Quiet.

He lightly slaps my tits, then flicks my nipples before holding an open clamp ominously over a nipple. A hard, exposed nipple. Oh god. Watching his eyes dance in amusement and lust while he's on the phone discussing work is driving me closer. My thighs are slick from arousal, fear and anticipation.

And he waits. And waits.

I moan, ever so softly, and arch my chest towards him. Begging. Needing. What started out as a task to perform for Master is now a need.

I bite my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood when he releases his hold on the clamp and it snaps on my nipple. My back curls towards my knees as I stop from both screaming and cumming all over Masters floor.

Oh fuck it hurts. Oh god I need to cum. Shhh, quiet. Throbbing. Heat. Pleasure. Please. Shhh.

I pant and take a deep shuddering breath and correct my posture. Master covers his hand over the phone and whispers "lie on the bed and wait for the next one. Cum and your ass will be bruised for a week" then he uncovers the phone and continues his conversation, like nothing has happened.

I crawl to the door and moan. The other nipple clamp is still attached to the chain and is dragging on the floor, tugging on the one attached to my throbbing nipple.

I hope his phone call doesn't last long...

-------------------------------------------------
I jump as something touches my skin.
With the thick heavy hood over my head, I cant see, cant hear, cant speak, only feel.
I relax as his hand rubs along my cooled, naked leg. I scoot my butt closer to his warmth, but my arm is yanked back from the short length of heavy chain keeping me against the wall.

I growl at the chain and jerk my arm, knowing its futile, but needing to be close to him.
He laughs and pulls the key out of his pocket and drags it over my heaving chest.
Like his slut, I press closer against it. Because its attached to him.

He opens the mouth section of my hood. I open it to tell him how grateful I am, and he forces his already hard dick into my mouth. After a moment of hesitation, I moan deeply and suck hungrily. My mouth the only thing that matters to him. I tighten my lips and suck harder, spit filling my mouth and sliding down my chin. He pulls my head closer to his crotch and I gag loudly, making him fuck my hole harder. I swallow him down as much as I can. His dick forcing its way down my unworthy throat.

My whole world is sucking his dick. And I love it

"Feelings, nothing more than feelings"

I've looked at the blank screen for over 30 minutes.
I dont know what to say. Or rather, I dont know how to word it. I dont know how to really explain how I'm feeling.

My cunt tingles and throbs at things my head revolts and fights against.
Things like: objectification, pregnancy, loss of identity, slavery.

My body shouldn't react like that. I shouldn't want these things. Secretly or not.

I love sex. Pleasure. Sensuality. Sensations. I've never had hangups about my sexual tastes. Never felt... alternative and deviant about the lifestyle I live and enjoy.
Maybe because I see what I do as the more "softcore" version of the whole BDSM thing. So then anything above that is the "real" deviant and hardcore sexuality.

Creepily enough, Master told me that his darkest fantasy would be to have me naked and chained in his basement. No windows. No light. No clocks. Just him using me when he has need of me.
I honestly thought he'd read yesterdays blog and was teasing me with the "forbidden" but he hadnt seen my blog.

It was hard enough battling against my head and my cunt... but he was using me and my body was simmering and burning for him. So it washed over me. It wormed its away into my head and sat their, like a little dark shadow.

Later on in the evening, Master had need of me again and I was riding the edge of cumming for so long. I needed something. Something more. Something darker. Then like floating black silk that idea came back. And wouldnt leave. And I needed it so badly.

I have never felt so humiliated.

Asking and begging him to tell me things that I know... that he knows.... frightens me.

When ever I've been called "slut" I've never questioned it. The things I will do for his pleasure and my pleasure class me as being slutty - and therefore a slut - in the dictionary in my head.

But I think wanting and physically craving what scares me really does make me a slut.