First Night

I waited all day to see Him. I was restless the whole day, unable to relax or sit still. When he finally arrived, I was already opening the door before he could put his key in the lock. I shuffled my feet and looked at the ground as he stared at me with a smile on his face. I was so nervous. I was worried about feeling different after our time apart. I was worried that his pent-up aggression would overwhelm me and that he would hurt me too much. He pushed his way into the apartment.

We stood in the kitchen and he touched the back of my neck. He gripped it in one large hand and put his other hand against my cheek. He looked down at me and my breath grew ragged. I was scared. I almost couldn't hold all of it inside of me. The way he was looking at me, almost like he was about to devour me. We kissed, slowly, pulling away to take deep shuddering breaths. Each time our lips touched, I could feel him tremble.

He led me to the couch, where he took off my clothes and spread my legs open. He brought me quickly to orgasm with the very tips of his fingers. He kept his mouth against mine the whole time. He was gentle but insistent as he put me on my knees in front of him, and then as he lifted me onto his lap so I could straddle him, and then as he carried me into the bedroom. He hadn't taken his hand off the back of my neck the entire time. He was holding me to him, secure.

"Are you ready for more, Kitten?," he asked as I lifted my head off of his shoulder and he laid me down on the bed. I nodded yes. What was coming next?

There was an amazingly passionate embrace, one that gripped me on the inside until I was shaking my head in disbelief. He came inside me and I whispered in his ear, "I've never felt this way before. How is this possible?" Nothing had changed between us. Nothing could shake our foundation, not the distance, not the stress of the separation or what had happened while I was gone.

Then the ground shifted. I told him, quietly, that I needed him to hurt me. Before I knew it, he was slapping my face, hard. He forced two fingers into my asshole and forced another three into my pussy. He hit me again and again. I offered my face to him until I couldn't, until the blows themselves started to scare me. How could he hit me so hard without bruising something? One of these days, wouldn't my cheekbone just shatter? I was afraid of being hurt and of people seeing the evidence. How would I explain why I had a black eye? But didn't I also want to see the evidence and carry it with me, wearing it like a badge that everyone could see?

I started crying and pulling away and he kept hitting me. My sobs were all pent up inside of me and they wouldn't come out. I was hyperventilating. The tears were streaming but I couldn't let my breath out. I kept sucking air in, in, as the pressure in my chest grew.

"Let it out, Kitten. You're safe with me. You're home with me," He ordered as he shook my shoulders. The sobs finally came out in a torrent. I released two weeks worth of missing him and feeling lost and of fighting on my own. I floated away on those tears, right back to my place at his feet. I felt the soft numbness of my submission descend over me. When he came on my face, I didn't flinch. I could only smile.

While I Was Gone

I have returned, but I'm not up to blogging just yet. I won't see Him until tonight and I'll continue to feel unsettled until we have a chance to truly reconnect.

I want to address some nastiness that cropped up while I was away. I know that by sharing this portion of my life in the public sphere, I open myself up to a certain amount of criticism. I welcome disagreements with my perspective, but I will not tolerate harassment or name-calling in this place that has, until now, been such a refuge for me.

I will not go into the accuracy of any of the comments themselves because those comments were factually misinformed. He and I know the truth about our relationship, its progress and what we share. I will not stop writing in this space, even though retreating in the face of an attack seems like a small comfort right now.

Instead, I am forced to return to moderated comments for the time being. To those of you who have constructively commented over these past few months, I hope that this will not discourage you from continuing to do so. If you would like to contact me privately, my e-mail is in my profile.


We were on the phone the other night. He had me put the beads in my own ass while he listened on speaker phone. Then he had me kneel by the side of the bed, come for him and pull them out. It is sort of humiliating that he can make me do this to myself, that he has such control over me - even over the phone - to make me do this. But I do it because I wouldn't dare disobey.

After I was done, he was reveling in his power over me. He said, "I can do anything to you, can't I?" He sounded so satisfied with himself, so powerful.

See, he didn't say "You'll do anything for me, won't you?" He said that he could do anything to me. It was a small difference in word choice but it spoke volumes to me.

I was sort of unsettled by what he said, even though I didn't say anything to him about it. I immediately flashed back to high school and that group of boys who had all been with the "slutty girl" at a party. They were boastful, confident after their conquest. They gathered around one of the boys' lockers and gossiped loudly so everyone could hear - about her, about how they could do anything to her. She gave herself to them and they shamed her in that hallway in front of everyone.

I know that he doesn't use me in the way those boys used her. I know that he loves me and doesn't want to shame me like that. But I see that he has such power over me, just as the boys had all those years ago. The shame that had been so deeply ingrained in me just doesn't go away. The sing of being that slutty girl, the girl they could do anything to, just doesn't go away. The feeling of being vulnerable, pliant, putting everything you have out there for the pleasure of others, hoping that for just one moment you will receive a taste of the love that you deserve. A moment of pure love.

Maybe I was offended by what he said because, in the end, it is true. He can do anything he wants to me. I am that powerless. I am exactly that vulnerable. He is right.

Naming, Part II

When he started calling me "Kitten" all of those months ago, I thought it was a cute nickname. It was one of many in that early phase, but it is the one that has not only stuck, but has also grown in significance. He still calls me "baby" and sometimes "bunny" (and even sometimes "kitten bunny," which is ridiculous), but Kitten is now my name as far as He is concerned. He even calls me Kitten in public, which usually provokes funny stares when we are among strangers.

Anyway, when we're close and he calls me Kitten, it sets off this reaction in me. It immediately makes me feel small, physically and emotionally. It brings me to that little girl place where I am used as his plaything and his toy. It makes me feel squirmy and cuddly, so that all I want to do is curl up against him and maybe nip at his neck. He has said to me many times, "You are a little kitten, aren't you?," like he is surprised at how he made me.

When I am Kitten, I want to roll over on my back and turn my head to look up at him so that he will rub my neck. That look is innocent and maybe it is a little not-so-innocent. The playful little look I give him often turns him into a snarling beast. He becomes his own animal, one who bites me mercilessly and tears at my flesh. He rakes his fingernails down my back and licks his lips as he contemplates all of the many ways that he is going to hurt me. He takes that little kitten and makes her his prey, he makes her tremble and shake in fear.

He makes me less of a person, in a sense. We haven't explored the extremes of objectification as of yet, but when I am that little animal, I am something less than a person. I am not a career-minded, independent woman at that point. I am a soft, dependent creature. As his aggression grows and he starts to hurt me, he makes me feel smaller, tells me to stop whining, that I am his to fuck. I become his movable doll, his mold-able fantasy. I start to become a thing, outside of myself.

He has taken me from woman, to girl, to animal, to thing. What a transformation.

Rear Window

He led me into the back bedroom. I noticed immediately that all of the windows and shades were wide open. And that I was naked.

Anyone in the apartment building behind my building or in the adjacent parking lot would be able to see me from the bed. In the moonlight, my pale skin would glow in the darkness and every inch of me would be visible. Anyone would see what he would do to me.

"Can I close the shades?," I asked in my smallest voice. Even before he started smiling his devilish smile, I knew that the answer would be no.

"Go stand in front of the windows," he ordered. "Face the window," he clarified when I stood to the side with my back turned. "Now, touch your breasts."

I felt like such a fool as I stood there fondling my own breasts. I closed my eyes so I wouldn't have to see if there was anyone watching me from below.

I heard him come up behind me. "Open your eyes, slut," he growled slowly. He put my palms down on the windowsill. "I want you to see everything. I want you to see whoever is watching me fuck you." He bent me at the waist and entered me from behind. He pulled back on my hair, snapping my head up so I had no choice but to look out.

He pulled out of me and turned me to him. He pinched my nipples as he stared down at me. I writhed before him and he pinched harder, twisting them until my knees buckled and I cried out.

"Get down on your knees and suck my cock so everyone can see," he ordered. I sunk to my knees, self-conscious but so absorbed by him that I didn't quite care.


We were sitting on the couch on Sunday morning enjoying a leisurely cup of coffee. Actually, I think it was afternoon because we had spent most of the morning in bed. In any case, we were drinking coffee in our pj's. I was still a little sleepy.

"Mmm...Kitten, you look so delicious this morning," He cooed. I blushed and looked down. My hair was rumpled and I wasn't wearing any make-up. No way I looked "delicious"!

He took my coffee cup from me and set it down on the coffee table. I thought he was going to pull me to him, but instead he pushed me to the floor at his feet.

"Kitten, show me," he said. I looked up at him with a question in my eyes. "How much you worship me. Show me," he whispered as he stood up in front of me.

I leaned forward and pressed my forehead against the tops of his feet. I ran my hands up his legs, caressing his calves, then his thighs. I kissed his feet lightly and swept my hair across them. I felt him shiver.

"Get lower, down," he hissed as he pressed his palm against my back. He pulled my nightgown up so he could see my ass as I knelt before him with my cheek on the floor between his feet. "Good Kitten. You're right where you belong - on the floor at my feet."

I closed my eyes as a feeling of great calm washed over me. I don't know how long I I knelt there, touching him softly with my fingertips and lightly kissing his feet. At one point, he lifted me up to sit on his lap on the couch. I curled into his body as he slid his hand up under my nightgown. He fingered me gently and I sighed into his shoulder. In my heart, I was still at his feet.

Light Sleeper

Dear Readers:

I will be away on a trip for the next two weeks, but fear not! I have some adventures that you haven't heard about yet. Please check back periodically for updates during this time.

Wish me safe travels and play nice while I'm gone!


A million stars were circling in the world above my head.
As I drifted back in memory to all the things we said.
Turning my attention to the pain that I denied,
It was never my intention, to ever say goodbye.
Maybe I could have changed, if only wisdom courted me,
and not this fear and shame.
The ties that bind and bless the soul, that bind me up in chains,
Your love cuts through my weakened heart and memories twist the blade
I thought of you and nothing more; I needed nothing else.
I cried the day you left me.
I never should have allowed myself to feel this way.
I wonder where you sleep at night; I wonder where you've been
I envy all your family, I envy all your friends.
I believe the ancient promises, I believe that I am free.
But love comes as a great offense, like innocence betrayed.
I don't think you'll recognize me on the other side of day.
But I've never felt this way.

I feel this deep down trembling, and the earth beneath my feet
Shakes the great foundation, and I awaken from my sleep.
I trust my life to providence, I trust my life to grace.
But nothing takes away the pain, I can't forget your face.
Somewhere in this world of shadow, blood and bone,
I struggle through the day to day, I brace against the storm.
Thoughts of you pursue me, like an overwhelming tide.
Something in the air tonight, it will do no good to hide.
Cause it feels, oh God, the world's on fire.
Night after night, like a fever it burns.
I deprive myself of feeling, both a blessing and a curse,
A love that can't be likened to a single thing on earth.
Maybe I'll see better when the storm inside has burst.
Maybe I'll see better when I see your face.

- Paul Schrader

Breaking, Part II

He said that he would break me a long time ago. He said it in the beginning, before I knew what that even meant. As he wore me down and crossed my limits, I felt things breaking inside of me and I started to grow afraid. I thought that he'd be wearing me down, exposing cracks in my psyche, reducing me to nothing. To me, breaking was a negative.

It made me worry about where we were going. If he broke me and broke me, there'd be a point where there'd be nothing left. I'd become a shell of myself. If there was no bottom to this, I'd just keep being reduced until I ceased to exist. The further down we went, the more apprehensive I became.

But then I realized - it was like an epiphany - that what he was doing wasn't breaking me down at all. He was breaking parts of me away, stripping all of the impurities, distilling me down to my very essence. All of the anxiety, all of the worry, all of the grasping for control - he stripped all of that away.

He left me clean and empty and pure. I am all shiny and new for him. He can fill me up with his thoughts, his desires. I am open and free, waiting patiently for him.

It is a whole new outlook - a positive outlook - and it is undoubtedly the right one. This is one based in my trust of him. It is the outlook he wanted me to have from the start. I am so proud that I have finally arrived here, even though the journey has been difficult. After all the struggle, I go forward with peace in my heart and a wonderful sense of clarity. I am strong and quiet. My eyes are wide open.

After, Part II

The impotent rage I felt that night didn't go away. If anything, it got worse. He knows that he hasn't totally broken me and that I am hanging on to the last little bit by a thread. He knows that I am clinging to that last little bit of what I used to be and that I am fighting with everything I have to hold on to that.

I have been focusing a lot on my impending trip, which is coming up faster and faster. I can feel the time slipping away. It is one more thing that I cannot control.

Funny how when I had all of the power, I couldn't give it away fast enough. Now that I am on the brink, I can't stop seeing where I am powerless. I cannot stop discovering instances where I am helpless and vulnerable, more reasons for me to hate him.

I know that there is a way out of this. I know that I built this prison for myself. I hold the key. I can leave, if I want. I can run. I can give in to that terrified voice in the back of my mind, the one that tells me that this will never end, that he will destroy me. I can run now and be far away before he wakes up. I can be in control again.

Or I can stop fighting and accept what I asked for. I can surrender to what I know is coming. I can stop worrying and stop desperately grasping for control. I can give up and float away. I can trust him - trust that he has control of everything, trust that he owns me and will take care of me. I can submit to Him. I will submit to Him.


I'm not sure that I can describe what happened the other night. Even if I could describe everything, I don't know if I would be willing to share some of the details. I do know that a part of me fell away that night. I am not the same person I was a week ago.

He was pushing up against a limit of mine, one we hadn't discussed per se, but he know about. He had worked the areas around this limit before but he had never gone this far. In the end, he didn't push me over the edge. Instead, he took me right there and let me go. I fell over the edge on my own.

I knew that something inside me had snapped when I heard my own voice: the desperate begging in that little girl voice and the gasping, hyperventilating sobs. I wasn't there consciously. He brought me to that place and I fell backwards in time until I was at my most vulnerable place, somewhere completely exposed and defenseless.

It made me feel the most powerless that I have ever felt in my life. I almost could not bear the feeling of helplessness. It made me want to fight him at the same time I knew that to fight would be pointless. That made me resent him all the more, resent his control and where it had brought me.

He asked me what I was feeling, so I told him my only thought from the bottom of that pit of despair: "I hate you." It was the most honest thing I have ever said. I stared right at him with clear eyes. "I hate you." He made me say it over and over. God, it turned him on. I could see that fire in his eyes as he touched himself. He could see where he had brought me - to a place of completely helpless rage - and that turned him on. It was the most fascinating thing I have ever seen.

He started into my eyes with an unbelievable intensity. He held my gaze for a long time. He didn't blink. I could hear him inside my head. I don't feel comfortable sharing what he said, but he brought me to tears with his unspoken words. As he continued to stare into me, I could feel him physically inside my mind. I could see those dark rooms and could feel him opening doors.

I was dizzy. I blinked my eyes into focus and he was there looking at me with a curious expression on his face. He described the same things that I had seen before I could tell him. I felt, more than ever, that he had brought me to such a point that he could invade my mind.

"I own you, Kitten, every inch of you, inside and out. I own your will and your soul and your mind. You're mine forever. You're mine."

Cut, Part III

"Kitten, I have a task for you this week," he told me over the phone.

"Yes?," I asked. I could hear the nervousness in my voice. I cleared my throat and took a deep breath.

"I want you to find something for me to cut you with. Do you think you can do that?"

"Yes, I can do that." Why the hell was I so eager? Why did my pulse quicken at the thought of finding the blade that he would cut me with, presenting it to him on my knees, seeing him take it from me, hold it above me...

"Good girl," he cooed. "Let me know if you have any trouble finding it. But if you don't tell me, I'll expect you to have it by the weekend. Don't disappoint me."

"I won't, Sir."

"I think I might have to tie your hands when I cut you. What do you think about that?"

"Um...," I stammered nervously. I knew that if he wanted to tie my hands, I wouldn't have much say in the matter. And maybe that would help because I wouldn't be able to interfere with what he was doing in a moment of panic.

"I'm not going to blindfold you, though, because I want you to see the blood."

I sputtered, not sure what to say. Blood. How much blood would there be?

"Trust me, Kitten," he whispered. "Trust."

Game, Set, Match

We were fighting on IM. I was upset about something with my family and I was taking it out on Him. I latched onto something that he did to upset me and I was going to town. I was sending messages rapidly using a sarcastic tone and barely giving him an opportunity to get a word in edgewise. And I was winning.

I love to win.

But there is no winning in submission, not with my clever words or the loudness of my voice. I cannot win because I am not even in the game. I forfeited my right to play when I have him the right to own me. I can be upset with him and I can disagree with him all I want on any number of valid points. But I cannot defeat him.

What I can do, if I choose to let myself go, is insult him and disrespect his ownership of me with my tone. Unfortunately, that is what I chose to do during our IM conversation. I use the word "chose" because I am responsible for my words and how I behave. The immature little girl in me would like to abdicate responsibility and claim that he made me upset so he made me talk to him that way as a result. But I am not a little girl. I am a person in this relationship, D/s or otherwise, and I have to be accountable for my actions. I am ashamed but I acknowledge that.

He told me that my behavior was "unbelievable" and that I would be punished accordingly. I don't know what my punishment will be. He has not told me and I'm trying to figure out if that makes it better or worse. But I know in my heart that I deserve whatever I get.

Sir, I am very sorry. I will try to be a better girl for you.

Three Scenes

How did He and I spend our Saturday? Which of these scenes describes what we did that day?


He holds me tenderly, looking down on me with emotion in his eyes. He enters me slowly and starts fucking me deeply. "Can you feel that?," he whispers and I nod, sure that I am going to cry at the intensity of the moment. He is talking about the palpable connection between us, the chemistry and beauty of our embrace.

He fucks me faster, thrusting deeper. I grip his shoulders as he leans down to kiss me. He nibbles on my lip and a moan escapes from my mouth. I hold onto him for dear life as he comes inside me. "I love you," he says as he throws back his head in climax. I come with him.


He pushes me up against the wall, pulling my shirt and bra up over my breasts before he pulls my pants down around my ankles. I am not wearing panties. He pushes me down to my knees with my back against the wall and starts fucking my face. He bangs my head against the wall with the thrust of his cock in my mouth.

He picks me up and tosses me over the padded arm of the couch, winding his hand in my hair and snapping my head back in one quick movement. He enters me roughly and starts fucking me hard, pressing me down into the couch. "You filthy little slut, look at yourself," he taunts me. When I whimper, he snaps, "Shut up, slut. What's your job?" I mumble and he shouts for me to speak up. I tell him: "To stay still and shut the fuck up."

He puts me down on my hands and knees on the floor. My pants are still around my ankles. He makes me crawl to the bedroom. When I struggle, he laughs cruelly and pulls me along by the hair even faster.


I slide his hand along my thigh, enjoying the warmth of his hand under my dress. I look up at him with wide eyes and hear him groan with lust. "Kitten...," he moans as I bite my lip and look away. He cups my chin in his hand and turns my face back so he can look me in the eyes again. I lean in to kiss him deeply, touching my tongue to his.

I climb on top of him and gently lower myself down onto his already-hard cock. I start to ride him, looking down at him through the hair that has fallen in my face. I take my dress off over my head, giving him a full view of my naked body. His hands immediately go to my breasts. I feel like his whore, focusing on his pleasure, my body for his enjoyment.

I ride him harder and look down at the blissful look on his face. "You are such a good girl, Kitten, you are such a good girl," he repeats over and over as his breathing quickens. Suddenly, I am coming hard, grinding on his lap and gasping for air. Before I can even catch my breath, he grabs my hips and starts coming too, shouting my name.

So dear readers: which one is us?


He put me on my knees next to the bed. It was dark in his bedroom, with only a small sliver of light coming in through the window. I looked up at him, waiting to serve him, waiting for direction. The light fell across his chest but his face remained in shadow. I couldn't see his features. I couldn't see his eyes to tell me what he had planned for me. I trembled slightly in fear.

He took out his cock and I opened my mouth in anticipation. He slid his cock into my waiting mouth. I sucked on him and kept my eyes on his face. He leaned down to smooth my hair back from my face and suddenly the light hit his face. His eyes were dark and he had that intense look on his face.

He started thrusting into my mouth faster, fucking my face. I relaxed my jaw and kept still as he moved in my mouth. I looked up at him with wide eyes. He was using me as his toy.

He pulled out of my mouth and lifted me back onto the bed. As he lifted my legs onto his shoulders and took me, his face fell back into shadow. He fucked me and whispered his depraved fantasies into the silent room. His voice was all around me, I could feel him inside me, but he stayed in the dark.