Icy

I was chatting on the phone to him in the kitchen. I was making a drink, dropping ice cubes into a glass one by one. He heard the sound of the ice through the phone and asked what I was doing. When he heard that I had a tray of ice out, he made a thoughtful "hmmm..." sound. I could hear the wheels turning in his head.

"What are you wearing?," he asked suddenly. I told him that I was wearing shortie pajamas, and he made me strip down to nothing while I stood there in the kitchen. "Take a piece of ice and put it in your mouth. Let me hear you suck on it, " he instructed. I lapped at the ice. "Smooth down one end of the cube in your mouth."

I looked around me, wondering what the neighbors could see through the window, if anything. Would a naked girl sucking on ice strike them as strange?

He continued: "Spread your pussy open with one hand and touch the ice to your clit with the other...don't take it off until I say so."

I took a deep breath and paused.

"I'm waiting," he growled.

I touched the ice to my clit and immediately cried out. The cold, hard pain was much more intense than I thought it would be. It burned my sensitive, exposed skin and I wanted to pull the ice away immediately.

"Keep the ice there until I say, Kitten," he urged over my cries. I held the ice, held it, longer than I thought I could, before he let me take my hand away.

"Did that hurt, Kitten," he cooed, as if he didn't make it hurt in the first place. He was sympathizing with me over pain that he had caused. But I was so relieved that he had let me take the ice off of my clit and that the feeling was returning to my pussy that I didn't notice.

As soon as my whimpers of pain subsided, he spoke again with that hard tone in his voice. "Put it back on your clit, now Kitten." I whined, but complied, crying as the pain burned icy-hot on my pussy.

He made me do it over and over again, until my legs were shaking as I tried to remain standing in the kitchen. He even made me touch the ice to my asshole, making me shudder and sob from the sensation. But I did it. I didn't even think about disobeying, although I could have. I could have said no, I won't hurt myself for your sick amusement, I won't get you hard with my cries of pain.

An hour later, after he let me come hard, kneeling in the puddle of water on the kitchen floor, I thought about why I did exactly what he wanted me to do. I thought about the feeling of his hand over mine as I moved the ice toward me, and his hand on my neck as he stood behind me while I writhed in pain. I was struck by how he seemed to be there with me throughout the entire experience, whispering in my ear and requiring my compliance with his very presence.

But he wasn't there, and he couldn't have hurt me if I didn't comply. And he wouldn't even have known if I didn't comply but pretended that I did. But none of those options crossed my mind. In the moment, I did something that hurt me very badly and made me extremely uncomfortable just because I thought I had to.

He reprogrammed me. He rewired me. He's inside my mind now. What else could he make me do, now that I'm like this?

Unspeakable

I don't want to write about this, I really don't. I want to keep this as honest a place for my experiences as possible and I want to chart all of my discoveries, but not this. Please, not this.

I don't think that I can type about crouching in the shower without squinting and balling my fists. I can't make out the words to describe the warmth and the wetness all over my body without some sharp intake of breath. I still cannot grasp the shear amount of Him all over me, how it kept coming and I kept turning my head to avoid it and now I cannot talk about it.

I can't find the words for this particular type of humiliation, one that wasn't humiliating, exactly. It felt reverent to let him do that to me. I knelt before him and opened myself up to him completely. I felt small and like such a good girl for him. I didn't hate it, even though the thought of it makes my skin crawl in a way.

It made me wet and I don't know what to do about that. So please, don't make me talk about that unspeakable thing that He did because he loves me.

Funny Girl

I kissed down His neck as I touched his cock, lightly grazing his shoulder with my teeth. "No, no, no little Kitten," he cautioned. I kissed down his chest and, after looking up at him with a coy look in my eye, softly bit his nipple. "No Kitten, no biting. I'll tell you when it's okay to bite."

I pouted for a moment, then joked, "You're no fun." Before I could think, he grabbed a fist full of my hair and yanked my head back.

"You think you're such a funny girl. I'll show you how much fun I can be," he sneered. I held myself rigid, hoping not to anger him any more. My joking had already gotten me in trouble.

"I'll show you exactly how much fun I am when I come on your face. Do you want to see that?," he asked. I shook my head no. "What?," he demanded. "Speak up when you're addressing me."

"No, thank you," I said clearly. I had just taken a shower and washed my hair. I didn't want him to come on my face right then. He knew that.

"Good, now get down and take care of my cock," he demanded as he pushed my head down. "And we'll see how much fun I am when I come in your mouth."

Wild

All I wanted was to be left alone. I didn't want to tell him my darkest fantasies. I didn't want him to reach into my mind and scramble everything inside. I just wanted to curl into myself and keep everything private. I wanted to be closed, hostile, myself.

He fought me as I struggled, he held me close to him. He whispered in my ear that I wasn't getting away from him, that I couldn't hide from my Owner. He shook me until I looked him in the eye and he laughed at the defiant look that he saw once I did. "Are you being a difficult Kitten tonight?," he asked, a gentle mocking lilt to his voice.

I pouted. I didn't want to banter with him. But he wouldn't let me go, not until I told him why I wanted to withdraw. There wasn't a reason, really. I was just feeling feisty and like I wanted to control what I did and what I said and where I looked. He slapped me hard - just once - and I finally dropped my resistance. I was still feeling surly, but he had knocked the fight out of me. Sometimes I think I need that.

He held my body tighter to his strong chest. I thought that I could stay immune to the seductive lull of his voice in my ear or the feel of his touch on my skin, but I couldn't. In minutes he had me squirming next to him. I was dying to have him touch my pussy and to feel him inside of me. He continued to hold me, challenging me to resist, but all of that had ebbed away. I just wanted to be the best girl for him, the dirtiest girl. I wanted to be the wild, slutty girl he always wants me to be. I decided to take matters into my own hands instead.

I slid down his body, making sure that he could feel my breasts soft against every inch of his skin. I look up at him when I reached his cock and shot him a small smile. He looked shocked as I took his cock deep into my mouth in one movement and started sucking on it hungrily. I kept my eyes on him as I worked my mouth up and down on his cock.

He tried to touch my shoulder, lightly, to caress it, but I moved too quickly for him. Before he could say a word, I was on top of him, sinking my pussy onto his cock. He gasped as I fucked him deep that first time. As I started riding him hard, he whispered up at me, "Where did X go?" He used my real name.

I laughed and leaned down to whisper in his ear: "She isn't here anymore."

Limits

I lay next to Him. His hands and eyes roam over my body. I'm shaking with something that resembles fear - trepidation, maybe? It's not fear, exactly. It is more the sense of being overwhelmed, consumed by his eyes and vulnerable to his teeth.

I never know where we are going from one moment to the next. I often have the feeling of running with my eyes closed. I might fall or run headlong into something, but I must keep running, faster and faster as I can hear his footfalls behind me.

The moments get scarier, each moment carrying its own special sense of terror and challenge. I keep moving forward. Every once in a while I have a moment when I am not hurtling forward in the darkness. I can shade my eyes with my hand and look behind me. I can see where I have come from, that unfamiliar wilderness that was once my home.

The path I have traveled is littered with my limits. I don't recall passing them, surmounting them, exactly. I can't remember a time when those limits were in place. I can't imagine when there were things that I wouldn't do for him. I don't know what those things once were, or why I let go of them, or when. When I turn back to the path, I can't see any limits up ahead.

I lay there next to Him. I have a tremendous sense of foreboding, like I have used up my last excuse and tonight will be the night when that final limit is breached. I shake as he holds me tight to his body. I have forgotten what that final limit was even supposed to be. It has melted away. I have nothing left to hold between us.

Fidelity, Part II

We were talking about fidelity again recently. He started grilling me on my admittedly bad track record with fidelity within monogamous relationships to make a point about how I used that power to control my previous partners. He was drawing a distinction between my previous relationships, in which I did all sorts of things to manipulate and maintain an aura of control, and our relationship, in which I have relinquished all control to Him.

What I thought was a slightly-uncomfortable, if lighthearted conversation, turned serious very suddenly when He slid closer to me and told me that he would release me if I cheated on him. I think I laughed it off for a moment, so he repeated himself. "Kitten, I am not joking. I will release you."

I tried to process what he meant. Obviously, he wouldn't release me if it was one little mistake? I wasn't thinking of a protracted affair with lots of lying, but the typical drunken indiscretion that was my hallmark at one time. If we talked about it, if I was honest with him, he would forgive me, right? If we had been together for years and years, had built a life around each other, certainly one mistake wouldn't mean the end of everything? I thought that I would forgive him a similar small mistake. Something that insignificant wouldn't be worth throwing everything away over.

But he saw it differently. By being unfaithful to him, especially after we had been together for a long time, wouldn't just be dishonest. Seen through the prism of my submission, it would be the equivalent to spitting on his ownership of me. It would mean that after all that we have been through, after all that we have built together, that I disrespect him so much that I would throw him away for a fleeting moment. It would mean an extra layer of betrayal for him and for what it means to be owned by him.

He wanted me to know the consequences - really know them - so that I understood. There would be no forgiveness and no talking my way out of it, as I have done so often before. I could not do my usual fast-talking routine and get off scott-free. I could not retain that control.

He made me decide. I could accept his terms, knowing what the consequences would be. Or I could walk away. I cried and protested for a while, fearful that I wouldn't be able to meet his expectations. I was...I am afraid that I will not be able to control myself in the heat of the moment. After years of just doing what I wanted because it felt good, with no concern for the consequences, how could I change my whole pattern of behavior?

He told me that the essence of the issue comes down to the question: "Do you want to be owned?" Making this commitment, knowing that he will take care of all of my sexual needs but that they are out of my control, is the essence of accepting his ownership. Denying myself that illusory power to do what feels good in the moment is what it means to be a good girl for him. Admitting that I have no agency in this situation, that I cannot do whatever my impulses tell me and must think of something bigger than myself, is what it means to be owned.

I accepted. I have to change. I cannot go on like I was before. I want to be owned.