Steel-Boned Binding

With a smile, you hand me the package that was in the mailbox. I look at the return address and squeal while ripping the package open. Quickly, I hand you the new item and hope for your approval. You smile gently and say, ‘Let’s put you in this”.

Naked from the waist up, I stand before you with the new corset containing me. This one is different though. It has an underbust cut so my breasts and, more importantly, my nipples are accessible to you at all times.

After cinching me to your satisfaction, you stand back to admire your work. I feel confined and exposed at the same time. I lower my eyes while feeling you take stock. My breathing is rapid and shallow. You put the small collar on me; the one that can pass as a fashion statement but has meaning for you and me. My breasts rise and fall with the exhilaration of knowing you are pleased along with the prospective of fulfilling your desires.

You hand me my shirt and tell me to put it on.  Without a bra. I disappointedly comply and go downstairs to make dinner while you assist with homework. Throughout the evening, I am intensely aware of my bare, and constantly erect, nipples rubbing against my shirt. Occasionally, I feel your stare and I have to catch my breathe while my pussy contracts. Bending over requires a little different maneuvering. I am imprisoned by you and feel my thong getting wetter by the moment.

Eventually, our daughter is in bed and you lazily sip scotch while I look at a magazine. I can’t focus on the words on the page. I am impatient and you are enjoying my flushed skin.

Finally, you stand and extend your hand to mine. I am electrified by your touch and follow you quietly to the bedroom. I patiently stand waiting. You are close. Your breath is on my cheek as you stroke a nipple through the fabric. You whisper softly, ‘All off. All except your cage’.  As I follow your order, I feel my skin flush despite the cool air.

Clasping my wrists behind my back, I see you are satisfied. More heat crosses my face. You gently pinch the underside of a breast. Then the other. Again, harder this time. More and more. Harder and harder. I struggle to stand. To breathe. Your hand caresses the corset as it travels down to my hips. A pinch to my thighs. Gasping and trying not to squirm, you continue pinching thighs and breasts at will.

You stop for a moment and I waver. Your steady hand holds my corset-covered waist while the other reaches down to feel my thighs wet with my craving. 

“Good girl. I like that you are wet for your Master.”

The world spins as you place me on the bed. Then, you have stripped and are pushing your cock inside my weeping pussy. I cry out with the suddenness. You grip my waist, tightening the compression, to leverage your position. The restraint of the corset combined with your grip pushes me to the edge.

“Please, please, please”, tumbles out.

“No”, you deny me.

Your strong fingers encircle my throat. I am delirious. Breathless. Panting, I beg again. “Please, Sir”.

You stop and lean in close.  “Who do you belong to?”

Your grip on my throat feels as tight as the corset. I cannot move. Gulping for air, I cry out, “You, Sir”.

You brutally lunge into me. I am sobbing. “You, you, you, you.”

You roar inside me. Clamping your hand over my mouth, you issue your command, “Give me your orgasm”.

I burst within the confines of your control, screaming as I surrender to your demand. My pleasure is yours, Sir.

As surely as the corset binds me, I am bound to you, Sir.

I am yours, Sir.

Safe In Your Arms

Sometimes I'm too bold for my own good,
I go out swinging hard and fast.
This world is beating me broken.
I need a home to rest.

Too quick in the first round,
Too slow in the second,
Now I'm here in the third,
And I need your attention.

I wanna be safe in your arms,
I wanna be safe in your arms,
I wanna be safe in your arms,
Safe in our home,
Safe in our land,
Safe in our world,
Safe in your arms.

It don't matter how strong I think I am,
I always need another heart,
To bind me to the moment.
To help me see myself.

Alive in the fourth round,
Collapsed in the fifth,
Now I'm here in the sixth,
And I need your belief.

I wanna be safe in your arms,
I wanna be safe in your arms,
I wanna be safe in your arms,
Safe in our home,
Safe in our land,
Safe in our world,
Safe in your arms.

Paula Cole/Greg Phillinganes

A good day

As I lie here, about to drift to sleep, I realize what a good day it was with you Sir.

I think back to the morning.

I awake to see the first light of the morning shining on the leaves of the trees outside. It is still dark enough that the leaves are black but the promise of the day is there. I turn my head to see you sleeping still. Heavy with the warmth of you in the bed, I tentatively reach out to caress your skin. Soft, warm and comforting.  You stir and open your eyes to see me smiling at you. Your arms reach out and pull me tight against your chest and a thrill goes through my body. I know it will be a good day.

A Sunday morning meeting take me away for a couple hours but, upon my return, I find a much needed breakfast. I snuggle into you and inhale your scent deeply. I am, as always, intoxicated and all thoughts leave my head. You insist on food and we then go to our next appointment together.

The day is sunny and starting to warm up. After the recent freezing temps, it feels like spring and we both remove our jackets. The sun warms our skin and our spirits. When we are finished, we enjoy a patio brunch to soak in more of the day and promise of spring. It is a good day to be alive.

Home again and I feel something shift in your mood. Your desire catches my breathe and I am drenched immediately. Your mouth assaults mine and I am captured. As always. I am captured by you over and over. Each time as exciting as the first. You turn me forcefully to face the bed and push me down. As you remove my belt, I’m whimpering. The need your touch. Any touch. Consume me. My pants are around my knees and my belt strikes my ass. Lightly at first. You know how to warm me up while you control my need. You are in charge. I am impatient but you govern the pace. The leather bites tantalizingly deep upon my thighs and I squirm.  I do not move to get away. I would never move away as I am yours to torment. Yours to dominate. Yours to take your pleasure. And you do. I hear your belt hit the floor and your cock claim my weeping pussy. Your pussy. Your pussy to fill.

You have other plans though. I groan at the departure of your cock. I want you but your desire, your pleasure must always come first. Your cock, very wet from my cravings, pushes gently against my ass. I feel my tempature rise and my breathe quicken. Please Sir, please use me as you desire. I loudly accept your cock, hear your groans of gratification and my pussy gush in response. Your are unrelenting in your ownership of my ass. Your ass. I feel you swell and roar your satisfaction. You bellow, “Come. Come for your Master.” I scream and claw my graditude.

We tumble into the bed together as our breathing returns to normal. As I start to drift off, my mind has one brief thought.

It is a good day to be yours, Sir.

Good Girl

Two little words that quicken my pulse.

Two little words that cause me to gasp.

Two little words that send shivers across my body.

Two little words that send a blush to my skin.

Two little words that make my stomach flip-flop.

Two little words that cause my pussy to spasm.

Two little words that stiffen my nipples.

Two little words that cause the world to disappear.

Two little words that caress and stroke my skin as surely as your breathe.

My only desire is to please you.

To be your Good Girl.

My inner self creeps out

It's been a tough 18 months. Marrying my Master, moving two time zones, becoming a full-time step-mother, supporting my husbands new business and increasing the demands of my own corporate position. Makes it tough to fall into a role of submission at the end of the day when you've been seriously conquering the world all day. Not to mention being tired.

That said, I can't help but be who I am. I feel the need to be submissive.

I look around me at the men on the flight and wonder how dominate they are.
- the man that gave me the drink ticket.. Not so much. Married. Early flurries. No, late thirties. Geekie.
- the man next to me. Divorced. Late forties. Handsome. Well dressed. Large strong hands. Checking out my bare legs in heels. Well, maybe, if he lives in town. His hands are powerful looking. Strong.

I imagine my husbands hands on me. My pulse quickens. I'm heading home after rocking the meeting today.

I exit the flight and survey the male population. Doesn't seem to show much promise of dominant men. Why is that? Has the liberation of women removed men's ability to openly put us in our place when it counts? Or is it more about men having the appearance of not being sexist? It must be tough as a man to figure out when to be powerful and when to be respectful.

Maybe I'm in the wrong place for this. Most of us here working or thinking about work or tied of working. Some just want to run home. Why? Is there a submissive at home? Or a shrew?

The man on the parking shuttle is in in his late 50's and he looks done. Looking like he wants to go home but only because he is suppose to. I want to ask him, are you the dominate in your household? Do you spanking your wife? Does it arouse you? Her? Even the driver. I want to ask him. Of all the men I've seen in the few hours, he seems the most likely to be aroused by the exchange of power.

But then again again, maybe it is all a front. The illusion of power. And what fun it is.

Shifting

Life has been shifting. I've not felt very submissive for many months. Nor has my Master felt very dominate. Life has weighed us down.

I have missed my Master. Not because I have been traveling or gone but because we have been gone from ourselves.

We let life get in the way of our true nature and that which makes us truly happy.

Last night, I let myself be his again. Truly. To my soul. It felt the way it it should.
Liberating.
Joyful.
Natural.

Thank you, Sir.
Thank you for being my love, my partner, my Master.

Thank you for caring enough to feel me and yourself and push us through to the next shift.

I walk by faith in you and the Universe, and am fearless and free. Through faith I am steady and strong.

I am yours.

Flight Home

I am breathless with the thought of you. Despite the cool air vent on the flight, I am feverish. You are not physically near but I can feel the power of your grip on my delicate throat nonetheless. I swallow hard and encourage my body to relax and imagine you consuming me.

Behind closed lids, I see and feel your dark eyes penetrate me. Your heavy voice whispers in my head over the roar of the engines.

Anticipation fills me. I am overdue for your discipline. I await your touch.
My nipples stiffen at an imagine pinch.
A spank.
A bite.
Anything Sir.

I long to be the object of your attention. My pussy aches to feel your full cock recapture me.

I rush home to you.

And whatever you desire of me, Sir.