tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86473788165352937422024-03-13T17:25:10.077+00:00Velvet Nightmares & Bittersweet DreamsObsessions and confessions of a contented subVelvethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05067131519830785478noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647378816535293742.post-13528441709353036972011-09-24T11:51:00.000+01:002011-09-24T11:51:30.798+01:00Bound to please ...All around me is quiet.<br />
<br />
I have been told to stay still.<br />
<br />
I am kneeling. My eyes blinded by the soft purple silk. My body is naked except for the collar. I am not sure how long I have been waiting. In my darkness I cannot judge the passage of time. My other senses are heightened, I feel the slight change of temperature on my skin that signals that the door has opened before I hear the soft creak of the boards. He is moving slowly towards me. My heart beat quickens in anticipation. I do not know yet what He has planned for me, how He will stretch or test me. I can only wait... <br />
<br />
He is close by now. I can feel the heat radiating from His body: hear His breathing. That heavy breathing that I love to hear. It brings a smile to my face, knowing that in His mind He has this evening planned; He is following a script that I am not a party too, although my role, my reactions, will be central to the play. <br />
<br />
I become aware of a smell. He is standing in front of me. He has raised something to my nostrils. I inhale deeply...<br />
<br />
Jute rope.<br />
<br />
I do not have to see it. I know the smell, and my body will recognise that coarse texture soon enough. I have some clue as to where tonight is headed. The variations though are endless... my mind races, tearing snippets from my memories, the good and the bad, the pain and the pleasure. I know that I am growing wetter before He has even touched me. The ropes are Him. He is the ropes. The ropes are US. A shiver of anticipation runs down my spine.<br />
<br />
His hands are on my arms, pulling them behind my back; crossing them so that my hands are against opposite elbows: He starts to weave.<br />
<br />
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I imagine the lines of rope as He binds my body. Each strand loving caressed into place, twisted, tightened and laid perfectly against the one before. I visualise the harness that He is creating around my torso, perfectly presenting my breasts so that they jut out provocatively. He deftly threads the rope, pulling a section vertically across the horizontal bands: a sharp tug and all the slack is removed, making me aware of the constriction that the jute is causing. The bonds are tight tonight.<br />
<br />
His lips brush my ear, "You look beautiful" He breathes. I am grinning, ridiculously happy, all I want is to please Him.<br />
<br />
My eyes are closed under the blinfold, but I know He is smiling. I visualise Him. I know He will be naked too. I know His cock will be proud and erect. I run my tongue over my lips, the memory of His flesh exciting my taste buds.<br />
<br />
He continues to bind. The coarse rope is between my legs, the knots placed perfectly so that they are pressing on my sensitive bud. I sway my hips, feeling the delicious pressure.<br />
<br />
A stinging slap bursts over my right buttock. "Did I tell you to move?" His voice is gruff. I have forgotten myself for a moment, revelling in the pleasures of the ropes. Instantly I still my movements, bowing my head I tell Him that I am sorry.<br />
<br />
I concentrate on keeping still. I am finding it so very difficult. From His heavy breathing I can hear how excited He is becoming. I want to move, to squirm, to show Him how much I love the ropes. All I can do is clench my muscles tightly, breathe slowly, try to relax. It heightens my submissiveness. Heightens every sensation; I cannot contain the arousal: moisure leaks on to my inner thighs.<br />
<br />
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He is binding my legs now, ankles to thighs. The weaver continues His art. With each twist, flick and pull of the rope He binds me closer to Him, binds us closer together. I cannot move now. He runs His hands over the ridges of the ropes. Runs them over the provocatively displayed flesh. The lightest of touches that sends shivers through my body. He tweaks my nipples. Pulls them, twists them till I bite my lip. He changes my position, turns me slowly onto my stomach, the rope between my legs tightens and reawakens my desires.<br />
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He moves away from me. Leaves me. I am sure He is still in the room watching me, I strain to hear the telltale sound of His breathing. I am alert: aware. I am His. I am open and displayed for Him. Living art for Him to feast His eyes upon. The control is His. Only He will decide what will happen next. In heightened sexual anticipation His toy waits...<br />
<br />
Velvet <3Velvethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05067131519830785478noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647378816535293742.post-87298157601101011832011-07-13T11:03:00.000+01:002011-07-13T11:03:08.183+01:00In His handsThey are His hands.<br />
I have no control over them or what they do, nor would I want to.<br />
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<br />
They are His hands.<br />
He has held me with them, touching, caressing and hugging me with them, from the moment he came through the door.<br />
He has gently steered me with them, guiding me to my knees, positioning my own hands, my body, my mouth for His enjoyment. <br />
He has held the glass with them, pouring wine from the bottle I chilled, placing the rim to my lips, controlling the liquid seeping into my eager mouth.<br />
<br />
They are His hands.<br />
He has taken me over His knee and warmed my flesh with them. The gentle rhythm of his slaps setting the bouncing orbs of my bottom aglow.<br />
He has inflamed my desires with them, as well as my impertinent cheeks.<br />
He has asserted His dominance with them, over my body and over my mind.<br />
<br />
They are His hands<br />
He has tied the blindfold with them. The purple silk blocking my view of the world, heightening my senses.<br />
He has poured the luscious oil with them, soothing, stroking, massaging, till my body shines.<br />
He has relaxed me with them, till I am drifting, floating: all else melting away to nothing. <br />
<br />
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<br />
They are His hands.<br />
He has unzipped his black travelling bag with them, and carefully chosen an implement from amongst His <a href="http://www.edenfantasys.com/">sex toys</a> in its hidden realms.<br />
He has stroked me again with them, maintaining my dreamy state, so happy and relaxed I barely wonder what the item of His choice will be.<br />
He has worked His magic with them, and I am under His spell.<br />
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They are His hands.<br />
He has been moving towards this moment. His mind already had this journey planned, trustingly I follow the guidance of them still. <br />
He has carefully adjusted the speed with them, my senses heightened, I hear the buzzing before I feel the touch.<br />
He has placed the tip against my mound with them, and now it is <a href="http://www.edenfantasys.com/vibrators/g-spot-vibrators/candy-g-spot-vibe">his latest toy</a> that sends sensations through my body.<br />
<br />
They are His hands <br />
He has me writhing in ecstasy with them, so much so that He has to lie across my body, pinning me down, restricting my movement to a minimum.<br />
He is skillful with them, His iron grip holding me firm so that He finds the exact spot that He seeks.<br />
He is persistent with them, never satisfied with the first orgasm He takes me beyond, until my whole body is on fire for Him, my mind consumed by the convulsions of my body.<br />
<br />
They are His hands<br />
He plays my body with them, He is the conductor, His baton the <a href="http://www.edenfantasys.com/vibrators/g-spot-vibrators/">g-spot vibrator</a> that He wields in His hands.<br />
He plays my body again with them, my moans, my thrashing limbs, my tears reaching a crescendo at His command.<br />
He stills them, a brief pause: the rest beats as much a part of the composition, the silence holding as much tension as the melody.<br />
He moves them again, draining every last drop of moisture from my intimate places, every last shudder from my exhausted body.<br />
<br />
They are His hands<br />
He traces the dryness of my lips with them, strokes my trembling flesh with them, slowly, gently, he enfolds me in His arms with them, and we are one.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Our journey is always in His hands.<br />
It is His hands, and what He holds within them, that make me come alive. <br />
<br />
Velvet <3Velvethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05067131519830785478noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647378816535293742.post-67970128702107962532011-07-02T13:00:00.001+01:002011-07-02T13:00:09.387+01:00I want to scream!It's not that I haven't seen Him, it's not that He hasn't trained and disciplined me. It's not that He hasn't complimented me on how well I am progressing nor that He hasn't taken me over His knee and spanked me ... hard. It's not that He hasn't bound me with His ropes, pulled tight so that the marks fade slowly over the coming day. It's not that He hasn't clamped my nipples and my labia ... so hard that I almost orgasm on the spot.<br />
<br />
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It's not that He hasn't used me, played with me, toyed with me, exploring and owning every part of my body. It's not that He hasn't brought me to orgasm or that He hasn't held me in His iron clasp and made me cum again and again until exhausted and drained I collapse against Him. It's not that I haven't had the chance to sit at His feet and rest my head against His knee until He wishes me to serve Him again. <br />
<br />
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<br />
I have had all that... and more... and delighted in every second of it. I love Him deeply. I have sought in vain for a word to describe the way I feel more strongly: 'love' does not seem to touch the breadth and scale of how I feel. It is too small a word, just one sylable to describe emotions that are impossible to contain within my body; that spill over and shine out through my eyes and face: a radiance that even a passerby cannot fail to notice.... and yet I have a deep craving for more...<br />
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<br />
It has been promised in the past and I know it is to come, but I need it now! My body, my very being, is pent up and needs the cathartic release. I feel out of sorts with the world. I need to dance and writhe for Him, I need to scream and cry and sob for Him, I need to be in that place where pain and pleasure explode together and nothing else exists. I need His whips and canes and flogger...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ER3ueo1LILk/Tg7-eTyt_CI/AAAAAAAAAJI/yjNKFXkYJzs/s1600/the+silent+scream.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ER3ueo1LILk/Tg7-eTyt_CI/AAAAAAAAAJI/yjNKFXkYJzs/s320/the+silent+scream.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<br />
For now the screams are silent in my head. He will decide. It will be when the time, the place, the state of mind are right for Him. I trust Him. He knows me better than I know myself, when it is right for Him, then it will be right for me too... I know that: I tell myself a hundred times a day, but right now... I JUST WANT TO SCREAM!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Velvet <3Velvethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05067131519830785478noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647378816535293742.post-35910708403726723702011-06-19T10:15:00.000+01:002011-06-19T10:15:01.684+01:00I am hookedHe fixes the blindfold over my eyes. It is the one I bought for Him, for Us, of beautiful purple silk. It does not block my sight completely, if I look down I see a thin sliver of light and the glimpse of my naked body. I close my eyes tight. He does not want me to see and therefore I will shut out this little slice of my world that I am not supposed to see... <br />
<br />
Now all is darkness. My senses heightened, I listen for His breathing, knowing I can tell His arousal from what I hear. Gently He strokes the ropes against my naked body and I shiver with the anticipation of what is to come. Swiftly He gathers my forearms and secures them together behind my back. He binds and twists and tightens, positioning them so that my back arches a little, thrusting my breasts upwards towards Him and my bottom out at the rear.<br />
<br />
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<br />
He asks me to open my mouth. At first I am not sure what He has placed between my lips, but He tells me it is His leather cock ring. I am to hold it. I must not drop it. I must hold it there until such time as He needs it. It adds another dimension to my immobility. My teeth slightly apart it is difficult to talk, difficult to swallow the moisture that pools in my mouth. I hug the strap with my teeth, determined not to fail Him.<br />
<br />
My breasts are next for His attention. He takes each strand of rope and carefully lays it beside it's brother. He pulls and smooths and straightens and I am slowly cocooned inside a tightly woven jacket: tits provocatively jutting through the only gap. I feel His hands running over the ropes. They find my breasts, fondle and caress them. He breathes into my ear, telling me how beautiful I am, how superbly my breasts are presented. His hands never stop moving, roaming, exploring; my own hands remain bound and still, powerless to resist.<br />
<br />
He takes His longest, blackest rope, I feel the softness of it as He slides it around my waist and secures it with the first tug and twist. Slowly, deftly He begins to lace, from the left, around my back; a twist, a loop and back from right to left. Steadily He weaves; shaping and moulding my body until my waist is encased in an intricately laced corset. He runs His hands over the patterns He has made and traces the contours of the ropes against my flesh. I shiver again; chills cascading through my body at the soft touch of His fingers.<br />
<br />
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<br />
He presses my body forward and I feel the coldness of the lube on His fingers gently probing my anal star. My heart skips a beat as I realise what is to come. Leaning forwards, my mind not on my mouth, I am suddenly aware of the drool which is escaping. Before I have time to act, the cold steel penetrates me. It is a new sensation, the hook is a new toy, but he deftly inserts it deep inside me before pulling the bar of it up between my hands and my back and securing it to the ropes already in place.<br />
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<br />
Before I have time to consider my reactions to this new sensation His hands are on my breasts, sliding gently towards the nipples, I gasp as suddenly the pressure changes, squeezing and compressing the sensitive buds. Pleased with my response, He extracts something from His bag and moments later my left nipple is tightly held. He has other tasks in mind for His hands, both nipples will be left with an understudy: the unrelenting grip of tight, black clothes pegs.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>He is not finished yet. I feel another of His toys pressing deep inside. He squeezes the pump in His hand and it begins to inflate. I shuffle my feet further apart, trying to accommodate more easily this new sensation. Every part of my body feels pressed and squeezed and so much His. My mind is overwhelmed as the sensations grow; I relax and give myself over to the emotions as they build, the ache between my legs begging for release. I sway and He steadies me with His hand. I am no longer here. There are only feelings, beautiful sensual feelings.<br />
<br />
From far away I hear the buzzing sound. It is such a small toy, innocuous when you see it or hold it in your hand. He touches it to the ropes and the vibrations travel around my body. He teases and torments my body and my mind. Each touch just enough to bring me to the brink, but never quite over. I moan from the pleasure: from the pent up desires: from the delicious frustration. I know that I am His to toy with. I am here for His pleasure alone. He alone will decide whether or not I have my pleasure tonight.<br />
<br />
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<br />
He shifts the tiny head of the vibe to my sensitive button. I am so close, so ready that it is only seconds before my whole body is shuddering, my eyes rolling behind the blindfold, my breath escaping in gasps. He pauses: deflates the inner toy and removes it. He continues. My body responds to His touch, His fingers, again and again. He takes me further and further, each orgasm more powerful than the last. His arm around my hips steadies me, I am barely able to stand. He drains the pleasure from my body until my mind begins to scream.<br />
<br />
I am close to using my safe word, close to tears, when He gathers me into His arms. He takes the strap from my teeth and kisses my mouth with a violent passion. His hand reaches to release the pegs. Lips sealed over mine He sucks my silent scream into His mouth. Then He holds me, just holds me as I slowly descend.<br />
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<br />
My hands are released, my eyes uncovered, but the corset remains. Gently, wordlessly He guides me to the bed. This time the pleasure will be all His.Velvethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05067131519830785478noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647378816535293742.post-60654087958985802242011-06-04T12:00:00.002+01:002011-06-07T21:26:25.104+01:00Who holds your mirror?It was just in the background, a song chosen to reflect the mood of the piece that was being delivered in a TV programme; but I heard it: heard every word: and once more was smitten.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/otJY2HvW3Bw?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
'You know that she's half crazy, but that's why you want to be there...'<br />
Is it me or is it Him who is half crazy? Crazy as in non-conformist: crazy as in passionate: crazy as in intensely enthusiastic, but this is not just a craze, this is who we are and there is no half about it... and I know we both want to be here.<br />
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<br />
'She gets you on her wavelength and she lets the river answer that you've always been her lover...'<br />
It is so beautiful to be on that wavelength: to have that connection, that river of emotions both physical and psychological that let me know that this is it: that part of me that was always there: the underground spring that has finally burst through to the surface. We have always been lovers, always been together, I just didn't know that until now.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xP_fvjWqaK0/Tec0a-9xeCI/AAAAAAAAAIc/tHb2LTK9sZc/s1600/On+my+wavelength.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xP_fvjWqaK0/Tec0a-9xeCI/AAAAAAAAAIc/tHb2LTK9sZc/s1600/On+my+wavelength.jpg" /></a></div><br />
'And you want to travel with her, and you want to travel blind...'<br />
Is there a more delicious way to travel? He takes the reins, the helm; He navigates and steers our erotic path. I would not wish to know the route. Being blind is a balm, the antidote to busy life. I embrace His guidance, relinquish control and find release. Willingly I surrender to the mystery of the unknown as we journey on together.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sIBKOHFoyhU/Tec1pRiSrCI/AAAAAAAAAIg/hTHxHTRWMK0/s1600/Travel+blind.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sIBKOHFoyhU/Tec1pRiSrCI/AAAAAAAAAIg/hTHxHTRWMK0/s320/Travel+blind.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
'And you know that she will trust you, for you've touched her perfect body with your mind...' <br />
The most beautiful, sensual and erotic organ in the body: the mind. It is because He has touched me here, that I can trust: though trust that I am able to acquiesce so deeply: through submission that I find freedom; and what freedom! Touch me again, most delicious of lovers: hold me, mould me, chain me, bind me and my cup will over flow.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AsxzrTydxac/Tec5FGP1ZtI/AAAAAAAAAIk/zLB4IsMG1ss/s1600/hold+me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AsxzrTydxac/Tec5FGP1ZtI/AAAAAAAAAIk/zLB4IsMG1ss/s320/hold+me.jpg" width="198" /></a></div><br />
'... and they will lean that why forever, while Suzanne holds the mirror...'<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>When He holds the mirror, the light shines and there are no shadows. He tilts it again and a thousand sunbeams dance. There is no darkness: only blessed radiance. There is no pain: only delicious pleasures. There is no deviance: only the highest peaks of erotic love... while He holds the mirror.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h0YFS4fc6v8/TeczjKNJgWI/AAAAAAAAAIY/NIN_SovzCr8/s1600/holding+the+mirror.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h0YFS4fc6v8/TeczjKNJgWI/AAAAAAAAAIY/NIN_SovzCr8/s320/holding+the+mirror.jpg" width="231" /></a></div><br />
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Velvet <3Velvethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05067131519830785478noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647378816535293742.post-59431881986395094452011-06-01T19:14:00.000+01:002011-06-01T19:14:29.723+01:00Mid-week Mischief ... Cruise controlThe wine, the meal, the chat, the inuendo, the laughter, the eroticism of a certain remote control device ...<br />
<br />
It all meant that by the time we got back to the car I just couldn't help but show how much I wanted You ...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MCVEP1TpyfI/TeXsqE0yj5I/AAAAAAAAAII/hQMSL3gxUZk/s1600/in+your+car.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MCVEP1TpyfI/TeXsqE0yj5I/AAAAAAAAAII/hQMSL3gxUZk/s1600/in+your+car.jpg" /></a></div><br />
As we drove, holding hands just wasn't enough...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k07EluTXVFs/TeXs4805cXI/AAAAAAAAAIM/vXColPebeHg/s1600/Wanting+you.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k07EluTXVFs/TeXs4805cXI/AAAAAAAAAIM/vXColPebeHg/s320/Wanting+you.png" width="283" /></a></div><br />
I'm just thankful for straight roads and cruise control... <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XfFoR4eMSwU/TeXtFsSEAXI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/gdJZLkJYrXg/s1600/Cruise+control.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XfFoR4eMSwU/TeXtFsSEAXI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/gdJZLkJYrXg/s320/Cruise+control.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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Velvet <3Velvethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05067131519830785478noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647378816535293742.post-46294426507251356032011-05-29T08:43:00.001+01:002011-06-07T20:52:44.043+01:00Drinking WineThe shivers run down my spine as I read the text. Just the briefest of details: no clothing, just the flimsiest of silky robes: no underwear, just stockings: no heels. Collar and all cuffs to be in place. Mouth and cunt wet, inviting and ready for use.<br />
<br />
I love to get His texts, they never fail to arouse and excite me. There is something so erotic in being told exactly how He wants me to present myself. I am always left with some element of choice: some decision to make, but He owns the vision of how I will be.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-joL4qHTkX6M/TeHzrfV31RI/AAAAAAAAAHw/yR82BZX20SE/s1600/black+silk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-joL4qHTkX6M/TeHzrfV31RI/AAAAAAAAAHw/yR82BZX20SE/s320/black+silk.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Carefully I make my choice of stockings and robe. Although He hasn't mentioned them, I clip the silver nipple shields into place; they are a given: a long standing order: I wear them whenever I am with Him. I turn my attention to my hair. It has grown quite long now and if He is going to use my mouth I will need to tie it back. I briefly contemplate pig-tails, a look which He adores, but too cheeky and impish for tonight I think, and so I opt for a simple ponytail.<br />
<br />
I examine myself critically in the mirror: and swap the robe for another. It is longer, but pure silk and I like the way it follows the soft contours of my body; exaggerating the peaks of my nipples as they stand proudly presented for my Dom. For a final touch I cut a short length from the purple ribbon that is in my drawer and tie it around the ponytail-band. I am ready.<br />
<br />
I hear His car pull into the driveway and am at the door before He has time to press the bell. I love the way His face lights up when He sees me. I love the feel of the heat of His hands through the flimsy silk, stroking my silhouette as He drinks in the sight of me with all His senses.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-D3OWWC1ruos/TeH0hV6EXWI/AAAAAAAAAH0/l8K6L3Zap0M/s1600/gown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-D3OWWC1ruos/TeH0hV6EXWI/AAAAAAAAAH0/l8K6L3Zap0M/s320/gown.jpg" width="187" /></a></div><br />
<br />
He steers me through the open doorway, into the room that I have made ready with glasses and wine; and then I am on my knees before Him. <br />
<br />
He has trained my mouth well: now like a conductor, he orchestrates my mouth, lips and tongue with gestures, movements and only the minimum of words. Before we met my mouth had been used little and I tired easily. Although I do not yet know it, tonight he will make use of my mouth for a full 90 minutes and still I will have more to give.<br />
<br />
He is drinking the wine as He stands before me; occasionally I am allowed a sample: He dips His engorged cock into the glass and I lap and suck the liquid off His member, catching the dribbling liquid with my tongue. Too soon He is too erect to perform this manoeuvre again and instead He tips the cool wine into my mouth before following it with His manhood.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9gs6rLZ1djw/TeH2WdUNIdI/AAAAAAAAAH8/t74aCbKHNlQ/s1600/sip+of+wine+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9gs6rLZ1djw/TeH2WdUNIdI/AAAAAAAAAH8/t74aCbKHNlQ/s320/sip+of+wine+%25282%2529.jpg" width="188" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<br />
I must use all the tools I have at my disposal to please Him. On rare occasions I may use my hands but it is not such an occasion tonight. Tongue, lips, mouth and throat: He owns them: He owns me; and like any good owner, He knows that when He pushes me, when He stretches and challenges me, I will try harder. At the moment I feel I have to stop, have to breathe, His hand holds my position, and as always, He is right and I give a little more.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zu2OdWkNkCE/TeH2uRog43I/AAAAAAAAAIA/XGiLUlIKWas/s1600/In+my+hand.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zu2OdWkNkCE/TeH2uRog43I/AAAAAAAAAIA/XGiLUlIKWas/s320/In+my+hand.png" width="252" /></a></div><br />
<br />
He changes position and I find that sweet spot below His balls. I lick and suck and feeling the involuntary thrust of His hips, smile secretly, knowing that I have pleased my Master well. Despite His pleasure He remains, as always, in control: of me and of Himself. There is no ultimate gift in my mouth tonight.<br />
<br />
The wine is almost empty. My robe lies discarded where it fell. He crooks a finger through a ring on my collar and pulls me to my feet. Slowly, softly, He leads me up the stairs to bed.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EHrHUoNjlHE/TeH429ywdbI/AAAAAAAAAIE/AdDqzNS9tY0/s1600/crawling+for+you.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EHrHUoNjlHE/TeH429ywdbI/AAAAAAAAAIE/AdDqzNS9tY0/s1600/crawling+for+you.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Velvet <3Velvethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05067131519830785478noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647378816535293742.post-2799585857192818952011-05-25T20:00:00.002+01:002011-05-25T20:38:42.287+01:00Mid-week Mischief ... Month of MayA colleague informed me that it is Rabbit Awareness Week.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QZIW7Xy6SgA/Td1IGIh5CwI/AAAAAAAAAHc/YFhm95bhG0k/s1600/rabbit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QZIW7Xy6SgA/Td1IGIh5CwI/AAAAAAAAAHc/YFhm95bhG0k/s320/rabbit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I felt it my duty to remind her that is is also <a href="http://www.flashnews.com/news/wfn1050523J7930.html">Masturbation Month</a>. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RPLOMlW2e5M/Td1IgDEWAAI/AAAAAAAAAHg/cIHffl0mTio/s1600/sticky+fingers+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RPLOMlW2e5M/Td1IgDEWAAI/AAAAAAAAAHg/cIHffl0mTio/s320/sticky+fingers+%25282%2529.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I am not responsible if others make connections between these two...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y_V_I3vITgM/Td1ReH0icYI/AAAAAAAAAHo/iz-_erff3Oc/s1600/Glass+lollipop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y_V_I3vITgM/Td1ReH0icYI/AAAAAAAAAHo/iz-_erff3Oc/s320/Glass+lollipop.jpg" width="223" /></a></div><br />
<br />
And as for <u>M</u>: he just loves me being His rope-bunny.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UWwYt5vC3UQ/Td1RqM4_WtI/AAAAAAAAAHs/jKcrQYRM7PY/s1600/purple+rope.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UWwYt5vC3UQ/Td1RqM4_WtI/AAAAAAAAAHs/jKcrQYRM7PY/s320/purple+rope.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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Velvet <3Velvethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05067131519830785478noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647378816535293742.post-75341539007131230392011-05-21T14:52:00.002+01:002011-06-07T20:52:12.966+01:00His shirtHe didn't mean to, but he left His shirt behind. I found it in the morning when I rose, adorning one of the bed knobs. I held it to my face, inhaling the lingering scent, a smile radiating across my face. I always seek out the faint traces that he leaves in His departing wake: the warm dip in the pillow: the glass that His lips so recently touched: the towel that wrapped His body after the shower. A shirt is treasure indeed, and I hug it to me until at last I too must leave the house.<br />
<br />
It's there when I return. In the evening I slide into it, revelling in having Him wrapped around me. Held once more in His embrace I relax and smile. My mind wanders to the memories of the night before and I am happy.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qdwyEz3W8dc/Tde-AwMynqI/AAAAAAAAAHM/2u4gihBGrsI/s1600/shirt+wet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qdwyEz3W8dc/Tde-AwMynqI/AAAAAAAAAHM/2u4gihBGrsI/s320/shirt+wet.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I am never happier than when I am His: never happier than when I freely submit to Him and willingly serve Him. The moments of the evening fade in my mind, what remain are the deep emotions. I inhale deeply and close my eyes. I feel Him still in my mouth: taste Him on my tongue, I crave Him deeply. In my mind I am kneeling before Him once more. He is using my mouth, owning every part of me and every part of me wants to be His and to worship Him.<br />
<br />
My heart swells in my chest, my body is no longer able to contain the emotions. Even as I smile I feel the silent tears making rivulets down my cheeks. I hug His shirt around me closer, sinking deeper into His loving embrace; sinking deeper into my bittersweet dreams. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EyOJ6cBTZ_w/TdfAzVH61aI/AAAAAAAAAHU/p0wQS1gEDE8/s1600/thumb+sucking+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EyOJ6cBTZ_w/TdfAzVH61aI/AAAAAAAAAHU/p0wQS1gEDE8/s320/thumb+sucking+1.jpg" width="208" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I feel the bonds around my arms, the burning sear of the crop across my cheeks, the unrelenting bite of the clamps on my nipples, the tightening of the leather at my throat; and through it all the aching passion burning between my legs. My body will tell Him no lies: just lying here with my dreams it does not lie. Though I crave release, I do not touch. My body is His property and not my own.<br />
<br />
I pull His shirt up over my face, smothering myself in the last of His lingering scent. Less than a day and I already miss Him so deeply. In my dreams I call to Him: "Come back soon. Own me again and make me come alive." And together we sink down into bittersweet dreams.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wwkDEbxQsP4/TdfCzWjPsWI/AAAAAAAAAHY/_QS87FFkqZo/s1600/spooning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wwkDEbxQsP4/TdfCzWjPsWI/AAAAAAAAAHY/_QS87FFkqZo/s320/spooning.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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Velvet <3Velvethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05067131519830785478noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647378816535293742.post-84725514871861652592011-05-11T07:24:00.001+01:002011-06-07T20:51:41.907+01:00Common CourtesyHe is testing me.<br />
<br />
Usually I grasp the ornate metal bars that decorate the foot of the bedstead; the cold metal reassuringly solid and unyielding as I hug it to me. I know that the frame will help me. It will hold me steady as the strokes fall, checking the momentum of my body as the chosen implement finds its target. This inanimate object has been my companion for a while now; my fingers find the familiar chips in the paint, souvenirs from the clash of buckles, clips and chains. Positions and restraints may change but we remain a resolute pair; stoically facing the next chapter of our story in one another's embrace.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DqEafPMpZAQ/Tcoo1RWH9XI/AAAAAAAAAHE/KLTvwWkqP5Q/s1600/Bed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DqEafPMpZAQ/Tcoo1RWH9XI/AAAAAAAAAHE/KLTvwWkqP5Q/s320/Bed.jpg" width="232" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Tonight is different.<br />
<br />
He is quite clear in His directions. There will be NO bedstead to support me tonight. He is wise to my wiles. He wishes to test me alone without my companion. He wishes to see whether His girl is able to absorb the impact of His toys alone. Will she be able to remain not only still but balanced as the cane finds its mark? He explains carefully what is required. From my position on my knees I listen attentively, I have already failed Him, I dare not risk doing so again.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I am ordered to my room.<br />
<br />
He has sent me ahead. I am to be in position and ready when He enters the room. I am to remove all clothing except the nipple shields, collar and stockings. The stockings are one of my favourite pairs: fishnets with PVC tops and laces, chosen for the detail that is only visible from the rear. Quickly I make last minute adjustments then assume the required position. Feet hip width apart, I bend and place my hands on my knees.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-f_xFi_q2DYg/TcoqcDu3LFI/AAAAAAAAAHI/urS2jOLvxto/s1600/bend+for+me+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-f_xFi_q2DYg/TcoqcDu3LFI/AAAAAAAAAHI/urS2jOLvxto/s320/bend+for+me+%25282%2529.jpg" width="194" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<br />
I wait.<br />
<br />
I do not know for how long I wait. I know it is enough to have my heart beating in anticipation: enough to build pictures in my mind: enough to feel the moisture grow between my legs. Then He is there. Close. He takes my right hand and fastens a leather cuff firmly around it. The second follows soon afterwards. Further directions are issued: I am to clasp my hands behind my knees. The cuffs will not be locked in place to begin with. He will test my resoluteness and my balance. If I move my hands then the cuffs will be locked together until such time as I am able to control myself.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
Punishment commences.<br />
<br />
Today I am offered no choice of the implement of delivery; my corrector is long and firm and black. The number assigned is twelve. He considers it a well rounded number suited to a well rounded backside. He weighs the feel of the weight and length of the cane in His hand, flicking the tip lightly over my proffered posterior, sensitizing my rear and spreading a flush across my cheeks. The first stroke flies from His hand and bites hard into my flesh. The first is always the hardest to bear, not yet deeply grounded I fight to maintain my position, biting my lip and willing my hands to stay obediently clasped behind my knees.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0IBRUMhot7A/TconRMdB3eI/AAAAAAAAAHA/nEAPVDbi1ek/s1600/whipped+ass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0IBRUMhot7A/TconRMdB3eI/AAAAAAAAAHA/nEAPVDbi1ek/s320/whipped+ass.jpg" width="260" /></a></div><br />
<br />
The perfectionist.<br />
<br />
He is careful in the placing of each stoke, the backhand stokes to the left cheek each finding a perfect partner in forehand strokes to the right. They are carefully ranged over the target area from the upper thighs to the fleshy globes. Each stroke must be clearly defined, if not, it is superseded by a better example. It is the strokes to the thighs that test me the most. My muscles scream as I will myself not to move. I do not wish to explore the consequences of doing so. Instead I grasp my wrists more firmly, hugging myself, taking strength from my own embrace.<br />
<br />
I am counting.<br />
<br />
My mind keeps count, but in reverse, counting down the strokes, each number more friendly than the last, they diminish not escalate. I am confident that I will past the test. Each burning stroke is one less to be endured: one stroke closer to the end: one stroke closer to having pleased Master: one stroke closer to His embrace. I am so absorbed in the counting, so ridiculously pleased with myself at not having moved, so chuffed that I have met the challenge set by Him ... that I forget...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NMa3DrgvmCA/TconMpXg1XI/AAAAAAAAAG8/daESPg6G49s/s1600/key+hole.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NMa3DrgvmCA/TconMpXg1XI/AAAAAAAAAG8/daESPg6G49s/s320/key+hole.jpg" width="140" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Manners.<br />
<br />
"Did you forget something?" ... That heart leaping moment when I realise what I have done... or rather what I HAVEN'T done. It wasn't my hands that let me down, nor yet my tender derriere. My mouth has failed me, my manners, my common courtesy. Shame faced I mumble an apology, too late I offer Him my thanks. It is too late; I know it but I try. He turns the question round to me: What should He do? What way should His erring sub be corrected? With dry mouth and sinking heart I give the only answer that I know will be accepted...<br />
<br />
... and the strokes begin again...<br />
<br />
Velvet <3Velvethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05067131519830785478noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647378816535293742.post-70102766352795386962011-05-01T16:56:00.002+01:002011-06-07T20:51:10.747+01:00ContrastsThe brightest sun,<br />
I bask in the light, in the warmth, in the glory of its radiance.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-phHDN5DzcQA/Tb187IgX-ZI/AAAAAAAAAGM/0lysPiI-eMs/s1600/Radiance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-phHDN5DzcQA/Tb187IgX-ZI/AAAAAAAAAGM/0lysPiI-eMs/s320/Radiance.jpg" width="249" /></a></div><br />
The brightest sun,<br />
I bow before its heat, its brilliance, its searing power.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LcE0Ag27qj4/Tb18_TIDzRI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/6l4TLQWv4ZM/s1600/Light+and+shadow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LcE0Ag27qj4/Tb18_TIDzRI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/6l4TLQWv4ZM/s320/Light+and+shadow.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
The brightest sun,<br />
I hide my eyes from its glare, its blaze, its fearfulness.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3R-py4nIlPE/Tb19Bw2-7bI/AAAAAAAAAGU/I66fAGdHAYA/s1600/too+much.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3R-py4nIlPE/Tb19Bw2-7bI/AAAAAAAAAGU/I66fAGdHAYA/s1600/too+much.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
And where the brightest sun shines, the darkest shadows fall,<br />
I thought I knew the shadows.<br />
I have been here before, we share a history.<br />
<br />
I stumble, my footsteps falter, my eyes wide open I gaze blindly around,<br />
Darkness surrounds me, engulfs wraps me in its suffocating numbness...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aVKB5jUzTsQ/Tb19G6QG3wI/AAAAAAAAAGY/XU-wxpI1xdY/s1600/in+the+shadows.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="249" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aVKB5jUzTsQ/Tb19G6QG3wI/AAAAAAAAAGY/XU-wxpI1xdY/s320/in+the+shadows.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Light and darkness,<br />
Love and pain.<br />
It will always be that way.<br />
<br />
<br />
Velvet <3Velvethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05067131519830785478noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647378816535293742.post-50684044471731094512011-04-24T01:04:00.001+01:002011-06-07T20:50:34.585+01:00Come to the Edge...<div style="color: black;"></div><div style="color: black;">I am afraid. Excited, intoxicated, adrenalin pumping through my body, but nevertheless... I am afraid. We have not known each other long. Distance and circumstance keep our meetings limited, His playroom all too often lying fallow as we snatch an evening at a motel that cuts our journey time. But today we have engineered an open ended block of time. Today He has collected me from the station and brought me to His lair. Today He has already tormented me with pleasures that have made me gasp: tied and twisted the body I have given to Him: yet still He leads me closer to the edge.</div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">Blindfold He leads me forwards. I falter, stumbling a little, uncertainty combining with the rush of blood returning to feet that have been kneeling. The cuffs are already on my ankles and my wrists, the collar firmly round my neck from moments after we entered His house. He halts me, raises my arm and deftly locks the clip in place. His hand guides my fingers to the wooden bar, gratefully I grasp it as I feel Him pull my other arm upwards. Upwards and out. He spreads my body, arms stretched wide, I know the same fate awaits my legs.</div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rGWSXPDF1kM/TbNjYNqtqUI/AAAAAAAAAE0/lEVvUcufiOA/s1600/arms+spread+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rGWSXPDF1kM/TbNjYNqtqUI/AAAAAAAAAE0/lEVvUcufiOA/s320/arms+spread+%25282%2529.jpg" width="296" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">He positions my body for best advantage. Legs further back so that my back arches and my posterior thrusts towards Him. I final humiliating twist, He places the pony bit gag in my mouth and fastens it tightly. I am new to this device. I still fight against the saliva that fills my mouth, I have not yet learnt how much He loves to see His toy drool, I have not yet accepted totally that I am His, not yet learnt to love whatever gives Him pleasure. For now I fight the moisture in my mouth, tipping my head back to swallow it as best I can.</div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tFy-q3FXzhA/TbNj51x-yLI/AAAAAAAAAE4/RdmIJ0WvsXQ/s1600/drooling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tFy-q3FXzhA/TbNj51x-yLI/AAAAAAAAAE4/RdmIJ0WvsXQ/s320/drooling.jpg" width="280" /></a></div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">He strokes my body and I tingle at His touch. My nerves are tightly coiled: senses heightened by my loss of sight, I strain to add pictures to the scene that I can only feel and hear. The softest touch of leather brushes my skin, as velvet soft as my name it caresses my open body. Goosebumps flush across my body both with delight and with fearful anticipation; this is not my first introduction to the deerskin flogger, and a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing. Master's floggers are not lone implements, they live on His shelf in families...</div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">I hear the swish, I feel the deerskin, the first falls are on my provocative cheeks. They are light, repetitive, a rhythm that warms my flesh to a delicate blush. I smile softly as I feel the dampness grow between my legs, my body unable to lie about the affect this has on me. He switches attention to my shoulders. At first I tense. My back and shoulders are unused to discipline, they were virgin territory for Master's tools and in these early days are still sensitive. I swallow down the mild panic I feel, breathing deeply to calm my knotting stomach.</div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CgGdx-60eHI/TbNkQnhIjsI/AAAAAAAAAE8/6rLDL9Gwydw/s1600/flogger+ass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CgGdx-60eHI/TbNkQnhIjsI/AAAAAAAAAE8/6rLDL9Gwydw/s320/flogger+ass.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">Steadily it grows. It is not the force but the repetition that slowly builds. Each kiss of the falls adding its rosy glow to the blush of those beneath. The minutes grow. Pink turns to red. I press my face against the polished wood of the door, my mind fighting my body to remain in position. He pauses. I breathe and shift position, hoping against hope that we are finished. </div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">What foolish thoughts. I hear the swish almost at the same time as I feel the bite. A senior member of the flogger family has come out to make me dance. The heavy thud sends my shoulders flat against the door. Steadily the licks find the raw flesh of my body. The tails curl around my lithe body as, despite my bonds, I twist: no longer listening to my mind's warnings to stay still. My breasts pay the price for my movement. His voice by my ear commands me calmly to be still. He pauses, repositions my feet, my hips, makes sure I am suitably presented once more before He proceeds. </div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m1tISQy8o60/TbNlDL7jx7I/AAAAAAAAAFI/kO5_M2ZSL4U/s1600/flog+chains.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m1tISQy8o60/TbNlDL7jx7I/AAAAAAAAAFI/kO5_M2ZSL4U/s320/flog+chains.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">The warm up is over. The speed and severity increase. I grasp the bar tightly with my hands. My body presses hard against the door, fighting to get away from the leather that rains down on me. He pauses again. As I return automatically to a position of presentation I feel His hand on me, in me. His fingers test and probe me, then He brings them to my mouth, smearing my flowing juices on the the lips of my gagged mouth. </div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">He begins again. The intensity notches up once more. This time He does not stop. My moans turn into groans. My knees buckle and tears leak from beneath the blindfold. My breaking voice falters past the gag pleading for Him to stop. His voice, controlled and measured informs me that He will take me just a little further. His belief strengthens me: I trust Him totally, I will not fail Him.</div><div style="color: black;"> </div><div style="color: black;">The speed quickens and finally I let go of everything. The endorphins rush through me and release me from my bonds. Sensation is everything: there is no world, no pain, no limit, there are only soaring heights and ecstasy. He has invited me to the edge, gently pushed me over, and together we have flown.</div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wF4_tcHhu-o/TbNkzHTmjmI/AAAAAAAAAFE/VKz9I8ak2jA/s1600/blindfold+cuffs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wF4_tcHhu-o/TbNkzHTmjmI/AAAAAAAAAFE/VKz9I8ak2jA/s320/blindfold+cuffs.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">I sob, exhausted against the door. He holds me close as He releases the clips. Gently He guides me to His bed. He enfolds me in His arms, softly caressing me He whispers beautiful soothing words into my hair. Consumed by love, I melt into His body. There is no Him, the is no me, there is only US.</div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1rN9RIn_pTo/TbNl8xPAUzI/AAAAAAAAAFM/04iR1zARYaQ/s1600/cuddle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1rN9RIn_pTo/TbNl8xPAUzI/AAAAAAAAAFM/04iR1zARYaQ/s320/cuddle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;"><br />
<div style="color: black;"><b>'Come to the edge', He said.</b></div><div style="color: black;"><b> She said, 'I am afraid'.<br />
'Come to the edge', He said.</b></div><div style="color: black;"><b> She came.<br />
He pushed her...<br />
And she flew. </b></div><div style="color: black;"><b> - Guillaume Apollinaire</b></div> <b> </b></div><div style="color: black;">Velvet <3<b><br />
</b></div>Velvethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05067131519830785478noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647378816535293742.post-5936309319646179662011-04-18T23:55:00.002+01:002011-06-07T20:49:49.567+01:00An Old Fashioned Lesson in ObedienceI knew it was coming. I had been on such a high that I had become reckless and cheeky. The imp was certainly to the fore, and I let her get up to her usual mischief unchecked. My texts were peppered with provocations, my claims of being 'good' stretched the meaning of the word to breaking point. I was steering along a perilous path and revelling in the sensual thrill the danger evoked. I had no thoughts of others, I thought only of myself and the giddy heights of my emotions that were so intoxicating.<br />
<br />
I knew that there would be consequences. Somehow I had managed to convince myself that these would be way off in the future. Somehow I convinced myself that in some small way I would be able to control the delivery of the punishment, and certainly I had convinced myself that the chastisement would be purely physical and easily accommodated by my bottom.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fJFa7fl7YxQ/TaycvmwfqCI/AAAAAAAAAEE/PAeRazk3lTk/s1600/stockings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fJFa7fl7YxQ/TaycvmwfqCI/AAAAAAAAAEE/PAeRazk3lTk/s320/stockings.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
That was before the announcement of the safe arrival by post of His latest consignment. A set of canes. A SET of canes, A SET of CANES !! Why would anyone need a set? Were the three He already possessed not already sufficient? What qualities could possibly be lacking in the ones He already had to require the acquisition of a further set of four? The only glimmer of hope I could see was that He might want to keep these new arrivals for a special play session...a distant session way off in the future...<br />
<br />
Any thoughts of a delay in getting acquainted with these implements was dispersed by His text mid afternoon which stated clearly a desire to see my bottom 'framed by the bloomers'. I know full well there is a direct correlation between bloomers and cane. Somehow the old fashioned garments are only truly done justice to if the punishment is a good old fashioned rod applied to the proffered derriere. There was to be no delay then in breaking in these novice implements.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mckQRLbo77Y/Tay_wXheUkI/AAAAAAAAAEs/wjMvb1NJHEo/s1600/bloomers+cane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mckQRLbo77Y/Tay_wXheUkI/AAAAAAAAAEs/wjMvb1NJHEo/s320/bloomers+cane.jpg" width="234" /></a></div><br />
Two further texts:<br />
The collar to be in place when He arrived.<br />
I was to give serious contemplation to my behaviour. <br />
<br />
My knees a little weak, I prepared for His arrival. He generally states only an impression in His text of how His sub is required to dress. The rest is left up to my interpretation, and I am always a little anxious as to whether I have read His mood correctly, or whether my attire will be a disappointment. Bloomers and collar: but did He have in mind over garments that He could peel away, or just underwear? It's a dilemma. I will be expected to make up my own mind, I just hope that the result is pleasing to Him...<br />
<br />
He is just a few minutes late, the traffic our foe once more. I open the door for Him and know at once by the way He looks at me that I have made the right choice. Black lace up boots, thick black stockings, white calf length bloomers. white shift, black corset pulling my waist in tight: pressing my breasts up and swelling my sex down below, neck encircled by the black leather of His ownership. He drinks His sub in with His eyes. I know I have done well and I swell with pride that I have pleased Him. Slowly He makes me turn. I have tucked up the ludicrously indecent rear of the bloomers for now. For now they cover the round globes of my bottom. Separating the white cotton halves to reveal the flesh beneath will be part of His pleasure later.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Mm6iQniWr0Q/Tay-X-X-FTI/AAAAAAAAAEk/cV6sTZXB9no/s1600/bloomers+corset.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Mm6iQniWr0Q/Tay-X-X-FTI/AAAAAAAAAEk/cV6sTZXB9no/s320/bloomers+corset.JPG" width="152" /></a></div><br />
There is little preamble tonight. He asks what I have to tell Him. My insides squirm, the words which flow so easily in my mind falter at my lips. The more He speaks, the more I cringe at the stupidity of my actions, the more He questions, the more it dawns on me that I have let Him down. I love Him and yet I have been deceitful in my actions. He has shown nothing but patience with me and yet my childish mood and actions have abused His belief in me. Trust- so central to my submission to Him, and yet I have not delivered the same to Him. I am ashamed.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qBsFtDGk1yg/Tayv_HxWp1I/AAAAAAAAAEg/v3KtYV2nnKU/s1600/corner+time.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qBsFtDGk1yg/Tayv_HxWp1I/AAAAAAAAAEg/v3KtYV2nnKU/s320/corner+time.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>He is right to take me over His knee and deliver a severe warming to my rear. He separates the cotton of my drawers and exposes the flesh of my behind. We do not keep a tally, this is just the warm up, the serious punishment will come in due course. I am mindful to keep as still as possible: no stray hands: no lifted feet, I listen carefully for instructions and obey instantly. Legs further apart! I am quick to respond and bite my lip as His fingers test His property for wetness.<br />
<br />
I release the breathe that I did not know I was holding. He is satisfied. He allows me to kneel before Him and thank Him properly for His attention. I take Him into my mouth, eager to please, eager to make amends. He rests back in His chair, He will keep me on my knees for sometime as He relaxes into the pleasures that I stimulate for Him. It may be minutes, maybe an hour, He will decide when my punishment will continue. The punishment will come: He will not be hurried, He will make me wait: make me serve: make me think: make me feel: make me give everything. When I am fully His again, that is when the punishment will come.<br />
<br />
I am focused only on Him, my eyes cast downwards. He rummages in the bag to His side, still seated, one hand resting on my head to ensure I maintain focus on the depth of my task. I can guess what He has in His hands. He has brought three, not the full set tonight. He plays a little, flicking them across my rump, sending me nuzzling deeper into His groin. At last He releases me from my task, pressing me to sit back on my heels He proudly introduces me to His new toys letting me feel the weight and flexibility of each. Finally He offers the choice to me. Of the three, which do I choose for my punishment tonight?<br />
<br />
My mind is calm. I am dressed in white and black, it seems fitting to choose the one attired in the same colours. I tell Him of my choice. I cannot tell if He is pleased or not, but He accepts my choice. His next instruction is merely to proceed upstairs and present myself for punishment appropriately.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gp0ARlSqLQY/Tayvh76VFXI/AAAAAAAAAEY/1BNQrQfcjUQ/s1600/bloomers+kneeling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gp0ARlSqLQY/Tayvh76VFXI/AAAAAAAAAEY/1BNQrQfcjUQ/s320/bloomers+kneeling.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><br />
I stand before the brass bedstead. I bend at the waist, my arms resting on the metal bars, my legs apart. He keeps me waiting just long enough to set my legs trembling as the anticipation builds. I feel His presence in the room. He crosses to the bed, tugs the bloomers back further to reveal more of my thighs. He strokes the blushing flesh before deciding that further warming is required. The thinnest cane is called into action. He admires the 'whippiness' of it, only the slightest wrist action is needed to send it swishing round my curves. He flicks it against my inner thighs commanding my legs wider apart. Next on the tenderness of His property, involuntary I flinch and twist. He decides it is time. He switches canes.<br />
<br />
To move is forbidden. It will earn me extra strokes. He lines up His aim carefully. The first cut sears across the top of my thigh just under my buttock. I draw in my breath, I bite my lip, I silently pray that my involuntary movements of self preservation were slight enough not to earn an extra stroke this early on. It has begun. I need it, I crave it, desire it, and yet at this moment I wonder if I can take it. My mind is in turmoil, yet my body obediently returns to the required position. My proffered bottom meekly requests the next stoke. At His pace, by His hand, the lesson in obedience will be deeply inscribed. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oHyD8QoMlpg/Tayvwjpcm9I/AAAAAAAAAEc/16By13X8zjk/s1600/Master%2527s+marks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oHyD8QoMlpg/Tayvwjpcm9I/AAAAAAAAAEc/16By13X8zjk/s320/Master%2527s+marks.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
Velvet <3Velvethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05067131519830785478noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647378816535293742.post-20970108485700019582011-04-08T21:49:00.001+01:002011-06-07T20:49:25.784+01:00The Closeness of His CollarUsually He takes it with Him. As He kneels beside the bed, roles reversed for once, He will lean over, kiss me and gently remove it from around my neck. Usually it is the last thing that He does in the last lingering moments before He leaves. Already late as we know the traffic will be bad and He has too many miles to cover in too short a time. My neck strangely bare, I roll into the dip left by His body and breathe in His lingering scent from the pillows, trying to hold on to some part of Him. Not yet ready to return to who I am when He is not here.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cA4NAY9U3MI/TZ4-NLf5opI/AAAAAAAAADk/3ml-4x3arHo/s1600/collar+fastening.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cA4NAY9U3MI/TZ4-NLf5opI/AAAAAAAAADk/3ml-4x3arHo/s320/collar+fastening.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
But this time was different. He ran His fingers along the curve of my neck; He smiled at me and kissed me. I thought at first that He had forgotten, but no, He said He wanted to retain that beautiful image. To picture His sub as He drove, lying naked in her bed wearing nothing but His collar. He pressed His lips onto mine, inhaled the provocative aroma of the leather one last time, and then He was gone. His other life claiming Him once more.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I65YzhVW0VU/TZ4-h0CuucI/AAAAAAAAADs/B2kFgAwo_qM/s1600/collar+hand+close.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I65YzhVW0VU/TZ4-h0CuucI/AAAAAAAAADs/B2kFgAwo_qM/s1600/collar+hand+close.jpg" /></a></div><br />
It was hard, so hard, to be the one to take the collar off. I left it for as long as I possibly could. I lay sleepily dreaming in my bed, reliving the events of the previous evening and night, caressing this part of Him that He had left, with my fingertips. When at last I arose, His collar stayed in place as I carried out my ablutions and carefully dressed for the day ahead. At last I could delay the task no longer and slowly unbuckled the strap and unfurled the leather from around my neck. As He had done earlier, now it was my turn to lift the strap to my nose and inhale deeply. Carefully I coiled the leather into my hand, and more than a little wistfully, I placed it in the drawer of my bedside cabinet.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0V70K4HhspY/TZ4_BL0oGhI/AAAAAAAAAD0/b0a6MjOrA9s/s1600/collar+sideview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="230" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0V70K4HhspY/TZ4_BL0oGhI/AAAAAAAAAD0/b0a6MjOrA9s/s320/collar+sideview.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
The day passed. Evening came, and we spoke, as we always do, on the phone. As the call ended I replaced the receiver on the cabinet and immediately was drawn to open the drawer and lift out the precious collar. At first I meant only to hold it in my hands, but the natural fit was snuggly around my neck and it was only minutes before that was where it rested. At once I was with Him once more. At once I was at peace, and calm and happy. I sent a text to tell Him what I had done. He was so very pleased. Although apart, we were together; although separated, we were close; although alone, we were at once US.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Snj-bEohOvA/TZ4_S5CRPHI/AAAAAAAAAD4/9IwI7H2hi2g/s1600/collar+with+man.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Snj-bEohOvA/TZ4_S5CRPHI/AAAAAAAAAD4/9IwI7H2hi2g/s320/collar+with+man.jpg" width="233" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">There is such comfort in the closeness that His collar brings. We both feel it. </div><br />
It has now become a nightly ritual for me. Going upstairs and wrapping that closeness around my neck. Lying on my bed and closing my eyes. I am transported to a different realm, a land where we are always together, where I am always His. I am wrapped in His blissful care; I surrender to Him, and in return He melts the trials and tribulations of my day away. I think of nothing... only Him. There is nothing... only Him. His leather warms my bare neck. I close my eyes ... He whispers in my ear and caresses my skin. He is so close.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-17sIhtEy39E/TZ9uO_1ntCI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Ya3yKPwnkpo/s1600/collar+white+shift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-17sIhtEy39E/TZ9uO_1ntCI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Ya3yKPwnkpo/s320/collar+white+shift.jpg" width="271" /></a></div><br />
Wednesday was such a dreadful day at work. I came home and ranted and raved to the empty walls, venting my frustration and stamping around the house. I went on all evening, until at last I climbed the stairs. I went straight to the drawer and took out the collar. At once I was calm. At once I could let go. At once I was just His sub with nothing else to think about. It is such a powerful symbol of our closeness. It shuts the world out as effectively as a blindfold. Instead of looking out, I look deep inside. There I find peace. Peace and happiness. He is close and I am His.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5zU0s8L_b6o/TZ9wmBbRkrI/AAAAAAAAAEA/fovtJV80Ylg/s1600/collar+blindfold.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="218" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5zU0s8L_b6o/TZ9wmBbRkrI/AAAAAAAAAEA/fovtJV80Ylg/s320/collar+blindfold.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Usually I miss Him dreadfully when He is not here, especially weeks when I am all alone. This week has been so different. This week I have felt Him with me every day. This week I have had the closeness of His collar.<br />
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Velvet <3Velvethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05067131519830785478noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647378816535293742.post-67233958419323704892011-04-02T18:20:00.002+01:002011-06-07T20:48:03.561+01:00Hide and Seek,They see a woman: well groomed, smartly dressed, businesslike.<br />
I am hiding.<br />
They hear the confidence in her voice: knowledge and experience evident in her words.<br />
I am hiding.<br />
They see her leave early each morning briefcase in hand, returning late in the evening: a hard working professional woman.<br />
I am hiding.<br />
They know they can rely on her, she does not let them down.<br />
I am hiding.<br />
This is the face that the world sees.<br />
I am hiding.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gkpqNzFa7rU/TZdU6OasKvI/AAAAAAAAADU/h9ghlwrs91s/s1600/business+woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gkpqNzFa7rU/TZdU6OasKvI/AAAAAAAAADU/h9ghlwrs91s/s320/business+woman.jpg" width="165" /></a></div><br />
He covers her eyes with a blindfold.<br />
I am seeking.<br />
He binds her hands together.<br />
I am seeking.<br />
He places the gag into her mouth.<br />
I am seeking.<br />
He displays her body with his ropes.<br />
I am seeking.<br />
His whip finds her flesh and makes her dance.<br />
I am seeking.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--sUAoV2uAXI/TZdaBkuTBbI/AAAAAAAAADc/dEeoD3alv-4/s1600/tied+hands.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--sUAoV2uAXI/TZdaBkuTBbI/AAAAAAAAADc/dEeoD3alv-4/s320/tied+hands.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
She kneels subservient before Him.<br />
I am found.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sfGM0T3NBz4/TZdXIpCPS_I/AAAAAAAAADY/wguTakgIq2o/s1600/yours.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sfGM0T3NBz4/TZdXIpCPS_I/AAAAAAAAADY/wguTakgIq2o/s320/yours.jpg" width="203" /></a></div><br />
Velvet <3Velvethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05067131519830785478noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647378816535293742.post-50931621365670418242011-03-27T09:57:00.001+01:002011-06-07T20:47:12.671+01:00Needed, wanted, cherished.In a recent post <a href="http://greengirl-whatiwonder.blogspot.com/2011/03/what-i-really-need.html?zx=e98eeeb43b83aa7a">greengirl</a> spoke of her need to be needed, wanted and cherished. These are emotions so intense in me they almost burn up my heart at times, a searing pain from memories still so raw that even now they bring tears to my eyes. I spent such a long time not feeling needed, such a long time feeling unwanted and inadequate, such a long time trying to be a person that I am not in order just to get some word of praise: some sign that I was worthy of his attention even. Fool that I am, I believed him.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-xH6gKItZlE8/TY6CFJgv_1I/AAAAAAAAADA/gBmnh44Mr5g/s1600/tears+gold.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-xH6gKItZlE8/TY6CFJgv_1I/AAAAAAAAADA/gBmnh44Mr5g/s320/tears+gold.jpg" width="219" /></a></div><br />
I loved him and in my eyes he could do no wrong, so the one who was wrong must be me. He took my self confidence and tore it up before my eyes: he took my self esteem and buried it deep in the bowels of the earth: he took my heart and wrung it dry. I floundered in a sea of emptiness not knowing which way solid ground lay. I didn't want to live, but somehow I did. A ghost of the person I once was, living a life that had no substance... year after year after year... <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-0T-hSH19ejs/TY6DDvSx0LI/AAAAAAAAADE/wVrd5PX07v8/s1600/ghost.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-0T-hSH19ejs/TY6DDvSx0LI/AAAAAAAAADE/wVrd5PX07v8/s320/ghost.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
That is my past, although it haunts my present still. The lingering doubts remain. There is too much time on my own, too much time for those deep rooted insecurities to raise their heads once more. Too much time to sink back into the deep dark troughs that should now be consigned to my past. I feel that I am deep under water, small and insignificant as I gaze up through the surging waters that bury me. I do not know myself. I have lost my identity, am not certain quite that I ever truly had one.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Hz0df3hcS68/TY6IT7QaMII/AAAAAAAAADI/qVTzhUMyAuY/s1600/under+water.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Hz0df3hcS68/TY6IT7QaMII/AAAAAAAAADI/qVTzhUMyAuY/s320/under+water.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><br />
And then He is here. His hands on my upper arms hold me away from Him as He drinks me in with His eyes. His words bring music to my ears, His happiness only barely contained, provides the joyful lyrics, laughter bubbling a duet to the words He speaks. His eyes sparkle and glisten, crinkling at the edges in a way that melts my very soul. I know He will notice every detail about me. My hair, my lipstick, my stockings, my shoes, the detailing on my dress. Right now it is His eyes that feast. Next it will be His hands, tracing the contours of my body. He will seek out the forms that give Him the greatest pleasure... the curve of a rib, the swell of a hip bone...and the grin will deepen on His lips. With Him I have no doubt about my identity. I am His. I am His sub. My mind is crystal clear, there are no doubts.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-VD-pb5fsx1A/TY6StZhyNGI/AAAAAAAAADQ/5rvoRBJAoHw/s1600/His.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-VD-pb5fsx1A/TY6StZhyNGI/AAAAAAAAADQ/5rvoRBJAoHw/s320/His.jpg" width="209" /></a></div><br />
No doubts. I do not doubt that I am needed. I do not doubt that I am wanted. I do not doubt that I am cherished. I am His. He will use me. He will train me. He will tease and torment me. He will discipline and punish me. I will smile and moan and scream and cry. Yet I will not doubt. By knowing I am needed my self esteem is growing. By knowing I am wanted my self confidence is building. By knowing I am cherished my heart blossoms and grows. I am His, and I know who I am and how to be. Happy, relaxed, confident I am His sensuous sub.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-jfnIc4ewxJo/TY6NiU57jQI/AAAAAAAAADM/WnCnhqDerwY/s1600/arch+trunk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-jfnIc4ewxJo/TY6NiU57jQI/AAAAAAAAADM/WnCnhqDerwY/s320/arch+trunk.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
And later, much later I know He will fold me in His arms: He will softly kiss me: He will stroke my skin cherishing the new marks on the ivory softness. He will hold me closely to His chest and whisper in my ear, and we will be as one.<br />
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My past is history. M you are my present, you are my future. Thank you.<br />
<br />
Velvet <3Velvethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05067131519830785478noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647378816535293742.post-38434489405931062262011-03-19T09:10:00.001+00:002011-06-07T20:46:18.082+01:00Sensational minutes<span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;">We do not have long. Just a few minutes snatched from our busy lives. A last minute change of venue has given us a location that will allow the privacy we crave. The moment I open the door we fall upon one another. Devouring each other's lips and mouths like ravenous animals. I love the way He kisses me. He holds nothing back: takes ownership of my mouth and I melt into His arms, His body, His mind. From that moment my senses take over. All I see, hear, touch, smell and taste is Him. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-SNo9Fb_Y4zg/TYRahdsUlpI/AAAAAAAAACo/Jd-nhKxMg2Q/s1600/Kiss+me+I+am+Yours.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-SNo9Fb_Y4zg/TYRahdsUlpI/AAAAAAAAACo/Jd-nhKxMg2Q/s320/Kiss+me+I+am+Yours.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;">I'm dressed in work clothes, carefully chosen as I knew these minutes had been arranged. I am ready for Him in every way. His texts have ensured that these few minutes have been fully prepared for and not a single one will be wasted. My outward appearance belies the wantonness that lies within. Unseen, beneath this professional facade, His gifts adorn my body. He will see them, feel them, use them, soon. <i>Oh please soon!</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;">He sends me up the stairs ahead of Him. Midway His hand adjusts my skirt, hitching it higher so He can best take advantage of the spectacle of my ascent. The black lace of my stocking tops ring my thighs, the creamy flesh above flashes as I climb steadily. He hitches the skirt higher still until by bare behind is revealed for His personal titillation. No words are spoken: no permission asked. My presence here states my acquiescence. My silence shouts my submission to His will.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-CviQwkGLH1o/TYRgIJHXKgI/AAAAAAAAACs/KFrjHperBMk/s1600/Stairs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-CviQwkGLH1o/TYRgIJHXKgI/AAAAAAAAACs/KFrjHperBMk/s1600/Stairs.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;">I lead Him to a room with a low sofa. He kisses me again: owning my mouth once more. I respond with ardour, feeling the sensations sparking through my body, giving everything of myself to Him. He checks my swell of passion, draws away and sends me to my knees before settling Himself comfortably on the sofa. From my lowly position I look up at Him with adoring eyes. I sense these minutes are to be purely His. My heart swells, I am replete, my desire is only to make Him happy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;">With a minimum of words His wishes are conveyed and I assist in freeing His proud member from the restraints of His jeans. He lies back as I begin my task. I kneel before Him, my hands steadying my lowly position. My mouth, my lips, my tongue: the only tools I am allowed to use to pleasure Him. I use my tools as best I can. Stroking and caressing, engulfing and probing, long sweeping strokes and gentle lapping licks. There is nothing else in the room Only Master's cock and His cockwhore's mouth.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mZ4J7NdTn_g/TYRgr0795LI/AAAAAAAAACw/TrIix_gAfHU/s1600/kissing+cock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mZ4J7NdTn_g/TYRgr0795LI/AAAAAAAAACw/TrIix_gAfHU/s320/kissing+cock.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;">He likes it deep and I obey as best I can, but He is always greedy for more, expects more, insists I give more. As I kneel impaled upon His horn, my face buried deep in His groin, inhaling His manhood, His unyielding hands hold my position, ensuring there is no escape until He chooses. I begin to fight for breath, His hands are resolute. 'A little more.' I hear His voice. It is a statement. There is no negotiation. I still my struggling and give Him a little more, just as He knew I could. Then finally I am released. I hurriedly suck the air in, refreshing my lungs; and quickly I resume my task. Our minutes are ticking by, and my hunger for Him is in no way satiated.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;">I am aware that clothing has been removed. <i>Did I assist?</i> My senses are consumed by Him, my mind has no room for anything else. His hand runs down my back, tracing the contours of my body, pulling me closer in to Him than I thought possible. He raises my backside so that I am on all fours, I do not break from my task. I feel the brush of leather across my rear. A slow sensual stroking of the supple belt that was so recently around His waist. I sense the folding of the leather into His hand, I hear the swish of the strap as it arcs through the air, I feel the bite of its tongue as it laps my tender flesh. My cries are most perfectly stifled, not a sound escapes: Master's cock provides the most perfect of gags.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-u-bBci4Jj74/TYRlw6kBhDI/AAAAAAAAAC0/HSO41xK9uRU/s1600/deep+throat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-u-bBci4Jj74/TYRlw6kBhDI/AAAAAAAAAC0/HSO41xK9uRU/s1600/deep+throat.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;">The sting of each stroke renews my focus. I am His and here only to serve Him. The sensations consume my mind. The beating is not intense, it sets my nerves tingling and my juices flowing. He knows the effect it will have on me only too well. I gorge myself on His member waiting to see if He will punish or reward His girl for her outrageous horniness. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;">He re-positions the belt around my torso, strapping my breasts to my chest, he pulls hard, securing me tightly and providing a handle for Himself. He moves now, pushing me forwards so my face falls into the warm hollow where he so recently sat. He binds my hands: a Velcro tie immobilising me still further. His breath by my ear informs me that I did not quite reach the hour mark upon my task. My time has not been in vain though, the effects of my labours are clear to me. He drives deep into me, using me completely, holding nothing back. He is bestial in His actions and His deep guttural utterances. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;">His peak comes, exploding deep within me. Time stops. There are no minutes, hours or days. There is only US. Deeply and sensually connected: We transcend time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-1dnaKepmJMg/TYRxwnTCZUI/AAAAAAAAAC4/Rle6piJSkUA/s1600/holding+close.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-1dnaKepmJMg/TYRxwnTCZUI/AAAAAAAAAC4/Rle6piJSkUA/s320/holding+close.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;"><i>But what minutes! Count them by sensation, and not by calendars, and each moment is a day.</i> ~Benjamin Disraeli</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;">Velvet <3 </span>Velvethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05067131519830785478noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647378816535293742.post-37367253483301119172011-03-12T00:20:00.005+00:002011-06-07T20:44:20.854+01:00The Sharpest Pleasures<span class="sqq">I am waiting. He has sent me to His room. I kneel on the black rug, the wool cushioning my stockinged knees. The straps of my high heels press against my ankles reminding me of their presence. My mouth is dry. I moisten my lips in nervous anticipation. As I swallow I feel the pressure of the collar around my neck. </span><br />
<span class="sqq"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="sqq">That is all I wear today... nothing else. He has told me to remove everything else. To enter His room and wait. </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-P4JvhYn9_ug/TXq6nOQt8XI/AAAAAAAAACc/0rdVZ-zZQo0/s1600/BDSM_collar_back.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-P4JvhYn9_ug/TXq6nOQt8XI/AAAAAAAAACc/0rdVZ-zZQo0/s320/BDSM_collar_back.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span class="sqq"><br />
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<span class="sqq">My hands twist as I hold them behind my back. I clasp them together, halting their movement.I breathe slowly. Hands, feet, body motionless... but my mind will not be stilled.</span><br />
<span class="sqq"><br />
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<span class="sqq">Already I am wondering what he has in mind for me tonight. My eyes are pulled unwillingly to the dark shelf to the left of the door. I see His 'toys' laid out. Meticulously ordered, displayed to excite and alarm me in equal measure. </span><br />
<span class="sqq"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="sqq">As my eyes alight on the neat coil of purple rope I cannot help the smile that blushes across my face. I cannot dull the spark that lights my eyes. I cannot suppress the moisture that leaks between my thighs.</span><br />
<span class="sqq"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="sqq">My body aches to be used by Him. In my mind I am already displayed for Him. The ropes woven around my body, transforming me into living art, presenting me perfectly in a way that nature never could alone.</span><br />
<span class="sqq"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-RBAD-XE4fdY/TXrUWPvMomI/AAAAAAAAACk/BXn5V0LiiTo/s1600/shibari.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-RBAD-XE4fdY/TXrUWPvMomI/AAAAAAAAACk/BXn5V0LiiTo/s320/shibari.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span class="sqq"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="sqq">Will the marks of the tight bonds be enough for Him tonight; or will He crave the resonant slap of the paddle and the growing crimson blush on the cheeks of my proffered posterior? </span><br />
<br />
<span class="sqq">My heart skips a beat as I consider if I have forgotten a misdemeanor that could earn me a set of stinging scarlet stripes across my defenceless derriere....</span><br />
<span class="sqq"> </span><br />
<span class="sqq">I hear His movements outside the door. The creak of the floorboards as He shifts His weight. </span><br />
<span class="sqq"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="sqq">I lower my eyes submissively to the floor. </span><br />
<span class="sqq"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="sqq">I feel His hands placing the blindfold over my eyes, the straps pulled tight... and tighter still.</span><br />
<span class="sqq"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="sqq">I am left in darkness, with only my thoughts... but it will be His imagination, not mine, that will bring the sharpest pleasures... through His imagination that I will know joy...</span><br />
<span class="sqq"> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-K1eLzQZWk8Y/TXq5vwuONnI/AAAAAAAAACY/rFlO7TSzTSg/s1600/kneeling+collared.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-K1eLzQZWk8Y/TXq5vwuONnI/AAAAAAAAACY/rFlO7TSzTSg/s320/kneeling+collared.jpg" width="216" /></a></div><span class="sqq"> </span><br />
<span class="sqq">“The imagination is the spur of delights... all depends upon it, it is the mainspring of everything; now, is it not by means of the imagination one knows joy? Is it not of the imagination that the sharpest pleasures arise?” Marquis De Sade</span><br />
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<span class="sqq">Velvet <3 </span><br />
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</span>Velvethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05067131519830785478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647378816535293742.post-30040981939799118172011-03-04T22:18:00.002+00:002011-06-07T20:48:58.223+01:00Sometimes...There are some lines from songs that stick with me forever. The rest of the lyrics make no connection, just one line, one refrain, that permeates my mind... and a smile leaches across my face...<br />
<br />
'Sometimes, when I look deep in your eyes, I swear I can see your soul...'<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-b9dwQKGcJUk/TXFfMR7L0cI/AAAAAAAAAB4/byHuPYyokTA/s1600/looking+up+BW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-b9dwQKGcJUk/TXFfMR7L0cI/AAAAAAAAAB4/byHuPYyokTA/s320/looking+up+BW.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-OJhHQTJ8BQ0/TXFdaBVLdqI/AAAAAAAAAB0/yk_N7SER0rU/s1600/looking+up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><br />
What will He see when He looks into my eyes? What does my soul say about me? Laid bare for Him both literally and emotionally...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-mw82xGbdqWI/TXFkzGZtMQI/AAAAAAAAACI/cwkHFd11sLU/s1600/bending.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-mw82xGbdqWI/TXFkzGZtMQI/AAAAAAAAACI/cwkHFd11sLU/s320/bending.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
At first I was not allowed to look, not even snatch a glance: the soft lambswool that lined the blindfold hiding the scene from me: a further layer of black tape wound round and round my skull: extinguishing even the faintest glimmer of light.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-WxqWgUHhA9w/TXFf7NV8XlI/AAAAAAAAACA/ZIXHPcmbShk/s1600/blindfold.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-WxqWgUHhA9w/TXFf7NV8XlI/AAAAAAAAACA/ZIXHPcmbShk/s1600/blindfold.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I could only wait... listen... every sound intensified by my sight deprivation. Every touch intensified... from the softest brush of His lips against my skin... to the bite of the cane across my derriere...<br />
<br />
But there are times now when he likes to look down at me... calling my eyes up to meet His. I kneel before Him... waiting... attentive... the instruction may just be a gesture...<br />
<br />
I look up into His eyes, and feel His gaze penetrating me... boring deep into me... into my soul...<br />
<br />
What does He see?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-SUanBpnsnhA/TXFhDCIPs_I/AAAAAAAAACE/OQ_30Mh-9Vo/s1600/knees+looking+up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-SUanBpnsnhA/TXFhDCIPs_I/AAAAAAAAACE/OQ_30Mh-9Vo/s320/knees+looking+up.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><br />
Deep in my soul is what He already knows...<br />
<br />
That I am His. Not sometimes... Always...<br />
<br />
Velvet <3Velvethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05067131519830785478noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647378816535293742.post-64305669082960060432011-02-13T18:14:00.002+00:002011-06-07T20:42:24.881+01:00Red Roses or Rosy Red Cheeks?I am so looking forward to tomorrow night. It has been a while and the anticipation is building... <br />
<br />
A special night for all lovers and M and I are no exception. It will be special, I know it already from the tone of his texts and the frequent mention of the word 'red'. I plan to cook a special meal - rare for us as our time together is so precious. I plan to wear my new red dress- unless a last minute text instructs me differently.<br />
<br />
Will he bring roses do you think? Velvet textured and exuding a perfume of pure hedonism...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aC5h0urLtj0/TVgeSBV4roI/AAAAAAAAABo/yTJQBogQwn4/s1600/Red-Roses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aC5h0urLtj0/TVgeSBV4roI/AAAAAAAAABo/yTJQBogQwn4/s320/Red-Roses.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Do you think there will be gifts? An exchange of cards and offerings that never fail to cement the relationship that is so perfectly US? Or will old favourites instead re-emerge? His birthday present is a favoured travelling companion, and the hearts seem appropriate for the occaision...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mIcwAjavZKo/TVgeZTg9zSI/AAAAAAAAABs/85B8Od7_b6k/s1600/hearts+spanker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mIcwAjavZKo/TVgeZTg9zSI/AAAAAAAAABs/85B8Od7_b6k/s320/hearts+spanker.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Of one thing I am certain, the pale orbs of my bottom will most certainly receive his attention.<br />
Rosy Red Cheeks, delivered with all His love.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QciEdYlhJ-8/TVgenHb9hAI/AAAAAAAAABw/4OL7prCeNA0/s1600/spanked.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QciEdYlhJ-8/TVgenHb9hAI/AAAAAAAAABw/4OL7prCeNA0/s1600/spanked.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Waiting in excitement and anticipation...<br />
Velvet <3Velvethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05067131519830785478noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647378816535293742.post-63488686277107331972011-02-12T13:16:00.002+00:002011-06-07T20:41:22.662+01:00The pain and the pleasure of 'Hurting'"I have always tried to be nice," the text says, "I don't know if I could hurt someone..."<br />
How do I explain to him that although there are times when my bottom, my thighs, even my shoulders have been turned an angry shade of red... even when the next morning there are marks, lines, bruises even... that I have never been hurt?<br />
"If anyone ever hurt me I would never see them again," I text back.<br />
It's true, I have been hurt, but not the way he means, the people who hurt be are the ones who take my trusting heart out and trample over my emotions...the husband who swore he would be true but had an affair after only three years, the man I saw twice and then who cut off all contact not a text, a message an email... That is the pain that I can not tolerate. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Pu5UTrdP3nw/TVaEgN1dkpI/AAAAAAAAAA0/kB13Zbfw4OI/s1600/paddled.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div>But my texter is just a curious friend, he is not M.<br />
<br />
M is the one who is with me on my journey. It is He who charts the route we take, He who stretches me, mentally and physically. He who weaves the ropes and fastens the buckles, He who instructs and trains, He who corrects and rewards.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g01-SvnVJY8/TVaHpty-hCI/AAAAAAAAAA4/V-Kep12F-vo/s1600/FOTO_MARCUS_RANUM_08bondage-composition-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="315" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g01-SvnVJY8/TVaHpty-hCI/AAAAAAAAAA4/V-Kep12F-vo/s320/FOTO_MARCUS_RANUM_08bondage-composition-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
With M there is no hurt... there is pleasure, there is pain, there is ecstasy and exhaustion ...but never any hurt.<br />
<br />
Velvet <3Velvethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05067131519830785478noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647378816535293742.post-27029669027443903132011-01-29T19:08:00.001+00:002011-06-07T20:40:18.703+01:00The First GiftI knew already: I knew from the IM's, I knew from the texts but when the picture message arrived my heart skipped a beat. "For me?" I questioned, scarcely able to believe it. "Really? For me?" <br />
<br />
<br />
The confirmation that yes this was for me was the affirmation that I needed. So in tune, so perfectly in tune. My very first loving gift from M ...and we had not yet met...<br />
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</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SgOcCoHJRFo/TUR6H9__l3I/AAAAAAAAAAk/OTMbuuYMPiw/s1600/gift1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SgOcCoHJRFo/TUR6H9__l3I/AAAAAAAAAAk/OTMbuuYMPiw/s320/gift1.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first gift</td></tr>
</tbody></table><blockquote></blockquote><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody></tbody></table>Velvethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05067131519830785478noreply@blogger.com0