It is my extremely humbled pleasure and admittedly aroused (fuck, if you could see me right now….damn) honor to introduce all of you to my love, my lady, my pet, my slut…Leigh.
This morning, while exchanging glances, smiles and a breakfast of a large micro roasted coffee and an apple almond scone hand delivered by yours truly (does your Dom do this?) to her desk, she said “I have an idea…” and immediately followed that with “NO! Not that kind of idea!” to the Grinchlike smile eating my face. She then asked if a idea of a contributing post and blog co-host would be OK?
OK? Um…OK? The searing kiss she got immediately after I stopped dancing around like an 8 year old on the last day of school gave her the answer.
The fact I’m delaying her post with my introduction is completely on purpose. As you’ll read, this is a recurring theme in our relationship behind closed doors. So, without further adieu I submit (heh) for your approval The girl Next Door….Leigh.
What I Am and Am Not
I am not a slave, a doormat or weak.
Outside the bedroom I don’t wear a collar or cuffs or clamps on my nipples.
In fact, outside the bedroom, I am not submissive at all. I’ve been called a control freak and I freely admit that I am. I fucking hate being told what to do. Scot says I have a tendency to Top from the bottom, which is why I think He uses the ball gag to keep me quiet. 😉 If I can’t protest, He can do whatever the hell He wants to me. And He does. Very, very well.
Outside the bedroom, I am the soccer mom you see taking her kids to a game; the woman at the grocery store with her cart full of produce; that half-awake, messy-haired person in line at the market buying half and half on Saturday morning; even the crazy person zipping around the yard on the riding lawnmower listening to disco music. In other words, I am the women you see around you every day.
I don’t live in the BDSM lifestyle, and honestly I wouldn’t want to. I think it takes a very specific type of personality to give up that kind of control 24/7. That is not me.
Except when the bedroom door closes…
Then, everything melts away except the very thrilling sensation of being at Scot’s mercy. So fucking hot. There is a black T-shirt and thick soled black boots He wears that turn my bones to rubber. I just want to fall at His feet and sink my hand between my legs, drive my fingers into my wet, warm pussy and come. But I don’t. Because He didn’t say I could.
In the bedroom, I have to have permission before I can do anything. To beg. To come. To suck His cock. If I’m good, He lets me do them all. If I’m really good, He will fuck me. Hard. I love being pounded into like that. Scot knows this. Which means He will usually go slow, just to torment me even more. It makes me insane. It makes me beg to come. He’s a sadist fuck that way.
In the bedroom, I like pain. It fills me with the most delicious warmth. I like the flogger He uses on me, but I really like it when He uses His hand. When He bends me over His knee and warms my ass. That first slap, stinging and quick, sends a jolt all the way to my toes. It fucking hurts, but the echoes of it spread through my blood like wildfire. When He lands the next, in the same spot, the pain bites even harder. My toes curl. I moan. And I love it. I arch into it. He tells me what a good girl I am, then rains down a barrage of slaps, each harder than the last, sometimes lasting for a full minute, until I scream from the fiery pleasure radiating from my backside.
He can take me right to edge without ever touching between my legs that way. I’m usually a sopping mess by the time He’s done torturing me. One swipe of His finger and I can explode on command.
Sometimes all He does is torment my nipples until I beg Him to stop and not to stop. He makes me so crazy. He bites them, hard, taking me one notch beyond what I think I can take. It is excruciating and intoxicating. I love it. I love that He loves doing it to me. I love when He pushes me to my knees and drives His cock into my mouth, then reaches down and twists those same abused and throbbing nipples until I shriek around the hard flesh wedged in my throat.
I love to be restrained, tormented and teased, taken to the edge where sanity blurs and all that matters is not coming until Scot says I can.
But when the door opens, I am again, simply The girl Next Door.