It started out with a kiss…

He held her throat as He kissed her. Not really kissing even, He was blatantly making out with her face. He controlled everything. He held her lips between His teeth and His hand was wrapped around her throat. She sank into His grip, unable to maintain the strength needed to remain upright.

“Whose filthy little whore are you?” He relaxed His grip on her throat only enough for her to speak.

She gasped in a breath, her voice coming out in a whisper. “I’m Your filthy little whore.”

“Yes, you are.” He said, a smile in His voice.

She jerked her head to look down. His cock was the longest and hardest she’d ever seen it. She licked her lips.

“You wanna suck it before you go to sleep? Yes, you do,” He crooned.

She nodded sleepily, eyes heavy but hot with desire, and moved to take Him in her mouth.

He held her head up by her throat and looked into her eyes. Then He spit on her face and growled, “You filthy little whore.”

He didn’t wait before pushing her head down to His cock. She opened her mouth and moaned at the taste of Him on her tongue. But the rest of her mouth was dry and she couldn’t make enough spit. Desperate, she shoved herself down on His cock.

“Yes,” He hissed, “That’s a good girl.”

He held still, allowing His cock to fill her mouth and throat. She finally gagged. She lifted her head and spit on His cock. She felt His surprise and His arousal intensify.

“Yes,” He groaned. He tightened His fist in her hair, and used her face to jack His cock. She relaxed her neck and allowed Him to control the speed and depth. Seconds passed by as she fully surrendered to Him, while simultaneously feeling the most powerful energy she’d ever experienced.

He moved her head faster, and as she tightened her lips around His cock, she felt the first pulses of His orgasm. She mewled her appreciation as He released her hair and relaxed His body, sinking back into the chair.

“Holy fuck,” He finally said, panting still. “I haven’t cum that fast from jacking myself off. That was the hottest, sexiest, nastiest blow job I’ve ever had.”

She couldn’t stop smiling. What greater compliment could a filthy little whore ask for?


Sub Drop #2

No matter how excellent your communication skills are, sometimes you have miscommunications. And sometimes mistakes happen. One thing that is paramount to me as a submissive and as a bottom, is remembering that the Top/D-type is human.

Here’s an example…

Me: please, Sir, may I cum?!

Him: yes

Me:*super long orgasm*

Me: thank you, Sir


Him: I think you forgot a thank you in there.

Me: no, Sir. One long orgasm.

Him: oh baby! I’m sorry.


Him: just cuz you like it.

Me: *cums again*

So He slapped me for something I didn’t do. And He immediately apologized. But in that *pause* we shared a moment. We had a whole conversation without words.

It was okay. I knew it was an honest mistake. They happen! They happen even with the best communication and the best connections. Z and I read each other extremely well. 98% of the time.

We live this 24/7. So mistakes/miscommunications happen. But we deal with them immediately and keep on fucking. Literally.

Keep an open mind. Remember you and your partner make mistakes sometimes and this lifestyle is never without risk.


She knew this wasn’t a serious punishment. But it still felt like one.

“In the chair,” He said, indicating the usual spot for such things. He stepped outside and closed the door.

After pulling her leggings down to her knees, she knelt on the cushion, facing the back of the chair. She breathed and waited. When the door opened, she arched her back just a little more.

“Good girl,” He cooed. She wiggled her hips and beamed with pride.

He caressed her ass, softly but with purpose. “I’m going to make this fun for me. I think you’ve been bratty enough to warrant it.”

Fun for Him meant sadistic play. She inhaled sharply. “Yes, Sir.”

He turned the music up, and began to slap her ass. His fingers pressed in with each thwack. It didn’t take long for her to begin to scream and cry out. He paused, and changed the position of His hand. Now it was a full hand smack. She screamed.

He growled as He shoved His hand through her wet lips, just brushing her clit. Her hips pressed back into the not-so-gentle touch, and He pulled back. The smacks on her ass continued. Her screams escalated. He could sense the need for a change, and again shoved His hand toward her clit again, this time giving her a more direct stroke. Her cries turned to mewls of desire.

He returned to smacking her ass, and then threw a punch. Compared to the sensation of a stinging slap, the blunt force was heaven. It was almost like a reset button. Another punch landed on the other cheek before the slaps returned. The pain was excruciating for half a second before dropping to a pleasurable point. He knew how to take her to the edge and keep her there.

As she was reaching her limit, she felt His cock rubbing her pussy. She must have drifted off again because she hadn’t been aware of Him pulling down His pants. Immediately her hips met His rhythm. Pleasure consumed her and tingles spread from her spine down her arms and to the calloused tips of her nipples.

He pulled out, and the smacks on her ass continued. She gasped at the loss of fullness. When she felt Him move behind her again, her pussy gushed in anticipation. When He positioned his cock at her ass, she stiffened and moaned but did her best to relax. Each thrust of His hips felt like a sharp stab followed by a soothing stroke. Within seconds, her pussy was throbbing and an orgasm barrelling toward her like a speeding car.

“Daddy, please!” she screamed.

“No!” He pulled out of her ass and stepped back.

Sensation flooded her as the pending orgasm dissipated. “God dammit!” she huffed.

His hand grabbed a fistful of her hair. “What was that?” There was an edge to His voice that put her in fight-or-flight mode. She took a deep breath, grounding herself in the tugging sensation at the nape of her neck.

“Sorry, Sir,” she breathed.

“Good girl.” He slapped her face softly.

Without warning, His cock was pushing into her ass and the orgasm began to build again. She knew He wasn’t going to let her cum so she focused her mind on the rhythm of His strokes and let the sensations flow through her entire body. Really, she realized, He was doing her a favor when He denied her orgasm. But soon enough she was screaming for release. Again and again He denied her. It was only a matter of time before her body would take over.

He thrust in deep and held himself there and she felt His cock spasm with the first wave of His orgasm. That did it. She shuddered and moaned, cumming with Him. His hands smoothed over her ass and hips, skimming up her back as they both caught their breath.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” she said weakly. “I couldn’t help it.”

He chuckled and kissed her shoulder. “My good girl.”

*true story.



Rituals and Sanity

I’m here! I’m still writing, but I have been so busy I haven’t had time to make it a pretty post. In short: holiday prep, ex wife moving out, work, car accident, and more work…

With all that craziness in mind, I want to share something that’s kept me sane. Rituals in our D/s dynamic.

I am to walk in heel at all times if we are walking together. That is, a step to the side and behind. I forget this more than I care to admit, and have earned bruises once or twice for it.

This is something that’s difficult for me because I’m used to leading short people through crowds, or just walking ahead in general. But it reminds me of my place with Him, when I defer to Him physically too.

Shower Time. When Sir takes His shower, I sit on the bench in the bathroom. I feel close to Him just being in the same room. When He’s done with His washing, He calls “here kitty kitty.” Then I wash and rub His back.

This is something I thought would annoy me after a while. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how I would fare in the realm of servitude. The concept has always intrigued me. But I knew it would depend on the person. But here I am, 4 months in… a few minor details away from our future Master/slave contract, me moving in this month, and I still love washing his back.

I also dry Him off and put moisturizer on His tattoos (in a specific order). Those two things are more special than the back washing. Drying Him off lets me touch every part of Him, every day. When’s the last time you touched every inch of your partner? The tattoos are the same. We both appreciate some good ink, so skin care is important. But I can’t quite describe the intimacy of it. It’s breathtaking.

And during these rituals, He’s paying complete attention to me too. He watches me, He touches me, and He talks to me. Sometimes it’s every day talk. Sometimes it’s deep. Sometimes it’s romantic. But it’s always appreciative of the moment we’re sharing. And if we get off topic in a bad way, someone notices & brings it back to the moment.

And the super cool thing? On the occasion I shower after Him, (rare because I usually shower in the morning) He washes my back, dries me off, and puts moisturizer on my tattoos. It’s so intimate, it’s so tender, and it’s incredibly sweet. Breathtaking.

Routine and rituals are comforting and they bring people closer together. I cherish those moments because I know no matter what happened that day (and there’s been plenty going on!) my Sir will be there, and except in extreme situations, our rituals will always be there. They’re a part of our every day and we make them a high priority. It’s a daily connection, and it’s priceless.

Be well.



Laughter, Blow jobs, and Humiliation – just a Friday night for ZehNah

Sir took His wife out for a date. I was so excited to see them going out together, and was just as excited to hang out with the boy for the evening. But when I heard the GTI pull in the driveway, I got that giddy excitement. My phone chimed.

“We’re home baby. Where are you?”

“Upstairs, Daddy.”

And at that moment, I decided I wanted to be waiting for Him on my knees. I scrambled to my pet bed, settled down on my knees, & bowed my head. My phone chimed again.

“L is coming toooo. I has …”

I cracked up laughing. These are moments that they don’t tell you about when you first consider a 24/7 lifestyle. Especially if you’re also in a polyamorous relationship. But because our little family is pretty tight, it wasn’t a disappointing moment. It was happiness. He was coming upstairs, and so was L, to hang out with ME. They could have easily gone to the shed to continue their evening. I was elated.

He came into the room just as I was pulling on my shorts and closed the door behind Him. I smiled.

“I’m glad you texted. I was not decently clothed.”

“I figured – and that’s why I did.”

He pulled me in for a kiss. (Aside: no one has ever *pulled* me in for a kiss…ever… god I love the way He handles my body.)

“Should I take off my ears and collar?”

He looked at me. He immediately understood I was asking to make sure that L wouldn’t be uncomfortable. In His Dom voice, calm and cool, He said “NO.”

I smiled as He reminded me that I can be myself around her. We spent the next hour or so together vaping, sharing stories, laughing, and just having a fun time. (This is happy poly. This is almost identical to my dream situation – you guys, I can’t tell you how AWESOME it is to have found my Sir and His family.)

After L went to bed, I told Sir how I’d been kneeling for Him.

“Show me.” He said.

I scooted back from where I’d been kneeling between His legs. I spread my knees slightly, and sat back on my heels. My hands rested on my thighs and I lowered my head. He inhaled sharply, and reached out to caress my face. His hands roamed from my face to my neck. Now it was my turn to gasp. He doesn’t even have to squeeze – the surface area of His hand against my throat alone is enough to make me wet and slip right into active submission. (I don’t know if that’s a real term or not – but for me, I always am submissive in subtle ways. So this is me actively expressing submission, I guess.)

He continued to caress me, squeezing my breasts. Since I haven’t been able to touch them myself this week, I was squirming in seconds. He pulled me up on my knees again and bit and sucked my nipples until I was writhing and then commanded, “Cum.”

And I did. Several times. Without Him even touching my pussy. I dropped down on my heels again, breathless. My hair fell over my face and I shook it down off the back of my neck. I wanted to engage His primal side. I lowered my head to expose the back of my neck. It was approximately 3 seconds before I felt His mouth nearing my neck. He carefully opened His mouth onto my neck, enclosing my spine in His teeth, and then He bit down.

My primal screamed. I began to struggle, and He bit harder. He grabbed my arms and held me in place. He growled and I was on the edge. “Do it.” He said with His teeth still pressing into my skin. I came hard. My body shuddered under His touch. He pulled back, and sat up. I breathed. I don’t know how much time passed before He grabbed my chin and gave me a smack to the cheek.

“What do you say?!”

I gasped. “Thank you, Sir. Sorry, Sir!”

“That’s better.”

I snuggled up against Him. My hands wandered to His cock, knowing that the smack He just gave me would have Him getting hard. I caressed Him through His sweatpants.

He leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “Only good girls get to touch my cock.”

I froze. I’d just been reprimanded for not saying “thank you” for an orgasm… That definitely took my good girl status for the moment… So I sat back and sighed, bowing my head.

He reached up to my head, grabbing a fist full of my hair. “I make dirty sluts like you suck it.”

And just like that, I was back on the edge, and my mouth watered. I helped Him with His sweats and eagerly began licking and sucking. He fucked my face. I worshipped His cock. He made me fuck my own face. He stroked Himself against my mouth. It was so fucking hot.

Afterwards, I cleaned Him up. He helped me off my knees and to the bed. We lay together talking and laughing. I told Him that I loved the primal moment we shared. And He admitted He didn’t do it consciously. I have to say, being in touch with our primal sides is such a rush. It’s pure instinct.

And I never thought I would get off on any kind of humiliation play, but when He rubs His cock and my spit all over my face, I’m in heaven. I love my place as His to do whatever he wants.

Happy #HumiliationDay, Kinky lovies!



In an instant…

It was my birthday. July 22nd. I answered a message on OkCupid from a guy who identified as everything I ever wanted in a partner. (Too good to be true!) (Shut up!)

After a day or two of heated, deep yet light chatting via text, I was convinced that I was going to be super disappointed. Like this guy was seriously too good to be true. Kinky, Dominant, Sadistic (He gave examples…) but also sensual, romantic (wtf!), and funny. So there has to be *something*, my brain insisted. But try as I may, I couldn’t find it. Then He suggested talking on the phone before our scheduled meet up on Thursday of that week. I was terrified.

I can’t really explain, but the thing is, I have never been 100% comfortable on the phone. Awkward silence, having to verbalize my thoughts literally made me shake with anxiety. Somehow I managed the strength to talk to Him on the phone. It was uncanny how quickly He put me at ease. We laughed, shared stories, talked about our jobs, and ended up staying on the phone for 4 hours while we worked. And since we were working, yeah, some of it was just air, but it wasn’t uncomfortable! We have talked on the phone every day since then, except the days we’ve been together. And it’s still comforting to have Him on the other end of the phone.

Finally, it was Thursday. It was the day we would finally meet in person. The chemistry over the phone was intoxicating. I was being noticed. I was being heard. So I wasn’t as nervous as I normally I would be. I remember driving through town and being more anxious about finding a parking spot near the bar where the munch was being held. I hit the jackpot of parking spots AND got there after the meters turn off for the night. (Winning, considering I had no change on me.) I was wearing a knee length black and white striped skirt, strappy sandals, cheeky lace panties (I had teased Him, asking what He’d do if I showed up in a skirt with no panties… His answer and the state of my then marriage prompted me to be a good girl.), and a purple sleeveless deep v-neck top. I wish I’d taken a picture of myself that night. I felt so sexy… My hair and makeup were on point, and I had butterflies.

I texted Him that I arrived and parked. He replied that He’d meet me outside, but I didn’t get that message because I put my phone back in my purse. So I walked into this tiny bar. Everyone turned and looked at me, the bartender said “hello!”, and I froze. I didn’t see Him. Then I remembered they were outside, so I asked where to go to get outside, and began following a server. In the small doorway between the main bar and the hallway leading to the outdoor patio, it happened. In an instant, my world began to shift and I didn’t even realize it.

The fuse on our physical chemistry ignited. I rushed into His arms and gave Him a hug. He smelled like soap and just… man. He wasn’t doused in cologne, or wearing a button down shirt like all the headless doms on Twitter. He is very rarely a stereotypical anything. He held me for a moment, pulled back, smiled a gorgeous smile with His entire face, and said, “Yay!”

I have never felt someone buzzing with excitement to meet me on a first date/meet. It was ridiculously intoxicating. I stood there and stared so long, He had to urge me on. What happened next was an indicator of the instinctual dynamic between us. He turned and walked towards the outdoor patio. I followed a step or two behind Him and to the right. He opened the door and I stepped through, stopping just on the other side of the threshold. He walked past me, and I followed again.

When I sat down next to Him, I was so drawn to Him I couldn’t help touching Him every chance I got. His knee, His arm, His hands. I touched as much as I could without being lewd in public. He returned the gestures just as fervently. There were moments during that meet when I looked into His eyes, and the world around us just disappeared. It was intense and intoxicating. His stare burned right through me.  I was aroused and immediately felt the Dominance in Him calling to the submissive in me.

I could tell you all the intimate details of the rest of the night, but I would be here typing for a week, so that will be another time. Suffice it to say, the entire evening was plucked out of the last BDSM romance novel I read. And that is not an exaggeration. 🙂

All of that, to say this… I love you Zehguul. I knew that day my life had changed irrevocably. I love the life we are building together. The last 3 months have been a combination of hurricane force stress and the calmest seas I’ve ever experienced, but I am glad it’s you, and I’m glad you’re the source of my calm. Here’s to many more months as your kitty, your submissive, your masochist, and your girlfriend. ❤



‪Let me tell you a story about a Sadistic Dom and his masochist kitty….‬

I stood in the shed, topless and ready for Him to tie me.

“Are you ready?” He asked.

“Yes, Daddy.”

The new Manila rope smelled faintly like paint. As he wrapped it around my chest, it was cool and somewhat smooth, but stiff and unyielding against my skin. (The fact that He used this instead of the nylon probably should have been a clue that this was going to be more S & M than we’ve ever done.) But despite the fact that it’s not my favorite thing to be tied in, He likes tying me in it. And into a place of sweet reverie I go.

The chest harness takes a little while. I watch His hands for a bit, and then just drift in and out. The music playing is soothing with pulsing drum & bass lines. (Another reason I wasn’t anticipating the pain.)

When the chest harness is done, I remind Him to set a timer. (This is important in rope play! Bottoms, never be afraid to speak up and remind your Top to do it. It’s easy to forget in the heat of the moment! You’ll both be safer for it!)

He had me sit on the stool, and He began a single column on my wrist. I don’t know why I expected that to be it… but when He bent my arm and began tying a futomomo, I couldn’t help gasping. My mind was brought sharply to the present. And He made sure every tug of the rope kept me there.

When He finished with my right arm, He instructed me to spin on the stool to give Him access to my other arm. I did as He asked, and again He tied a futomomo on my left arm. It was at this point, I came down with the nervous rambling. I tried to tell Him the rope was going the wrong way (spoiler alert: it wasn’t). I think I was nervous because I knew at this point that this would be more than a peaceful rope scene.

“Are you sure about that?” He smirked.

As the rope slid over my shoulder and neck, I saw the ties were indeed identical.

Sheepishly I looked up at Him and whispered, “Sorry, Daddy.”

In hindsight, the look on His face should have been the first clue that I needed to shut my mouth.

At this point, He pulled me to my feet, and began to tie the ends from my chest harness, and both arm ties to the hook in the ceiling above my head. I had my hair in my face, and since He wasn’t finished tying yet, I thought I should voice my opinion on that because, um, bottoms should communicate.

“Daddy, the rope is in my face. Can you tie it behind my head?”

Ya’ll… You could have heard a pin drop – even with the music playing.

“That’s not what I was going for, so…”

I bowed my head, knowing I should stop talking, but did not have the ability to do so apparently.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I just didn’t want the rope in my face.” I felt Him move around me.

“And what if I want the rope in your face?” He said in a cool tone as He wrapped the manilla rope around my face and head.

I sagged in the ropes, feeling both embarrassed for the word vomit and my poor topping from the bottom, and aroused that I was sufficiently put in my place. I really have no other way to describe it. He removed the ropes from my face, and secured the lines all above my head.

It wasn’t long before the impact began. This time, there was less focus on my ass, and more on my back and tits. The breast torture was particularly painful this time, seeing as they had been bound for quite a bit already, and were extremely sensitive. At this point though, I couldn’t really tell you what happened. He hit me with the rice spoon on my back, warming me up. Then He did the same to my breasts. It was not pleasurable. This was not a sensual pleasure scene. It was at this point, that my mind actually registered this. And things were escalating quickly. I was beyond the point of soft moans and gasps. I was whimpering and squealing, and before long, actual screams were coming out of my throat. I think He even turned up the music a few notches.

The scene continued to escalate. He was brutal and unapologetic. This is the sadistic side to my Daddy. This is a side of Him that lurks just below the surface. It calls to the masochist in me. I take His lashes and the pain He gives me, and I transform it into pleasure for Him. Sometimes, when I open my eyes, I look into His, and I can see the Sadist. There is almost no trace of my Daddy, and only a glimpse of my Sir… This side of my man is not to be fucked with and cannot be reasoned with. His desires are dark, but they mirror my own.

Eventually, He released my ties. He cuddled me in the arm chair, giving me His body weight and warmth. He fucked me and used me thoroughly. I am grateful that I can trust Him to push me to my limits, and then care for me afterwards. I can’t really express how it feels to have someone KNOW exactly what you need and want, because it’s what they want too.

To date, this is the most pain He has given me in one scene. And the evening wasn’t even over at that point. But here are some enjoyable photos of our rope evening.