Seek And Go Hyde Act IV

(To read Seek And Go Hyde Act IAct II or Act III)

You will have to forgive me if, for the duration of this story, my musings appear helter skelter.

I can feel Him peeking out through my eyes, wanting His voice to be heard since He was the one who was primarily there.

Hyde.

He was the one who was reveling in how deep my extremely engorged cock was effortlessly sliding in and out of Leigh’s splayed open cunt like a hot knife through mid August butter. So. Fucking. Slow. Leigh hates this, despises how I tease the shit out of her this way. She is all for the jack hammer, give it to me hard, fast and now so I can come fuck.

No.

And when wielding an erection that was so painfully thick it actually ached I damn well savored the opportunity to turn her into an incoherent cum slut, one who would cry and sob when she was not coating both of us with enough vaginal fluids to make our scene sound like a water park during Kid’s Get In Free Day. That drives her crazy. She loathes my turning her cunt into our personal shower head for two, how she cannot, and I mean cannot, control her squirting.

It all started with the outstroke. How my cock licked the part of her G spot closest to her pubic bone arch, that sweet speed bump on the near underside of her mound. I’m not kidding its a speed bump in that, with each tortuously long withdraw using the entire length of my oiled erection I felt her folds start to sweat, pulse, engorged to the point of fucking the velvet vise of bawdy humor. I loved how she started to ooze, flow, grow thick with lust and blood.

For I knew that her ability to retain conscious control of her orgasms was rapidly deteriorating. So yes, a speed bump. At a snail’s pace. The irony, as well as the overall physical and emotional sensations, was eye rolling.

My growls continued, escalating with each frantic cry. Her fingers clawed the raw flesh of her own ass, its bruised reality drawn closer to the surface via skin made taut by legs being held firmly straight, wide and open.

“EnnhhhhhHH” echoed again and again from her contorted face, her teeth clenched in a masochistic masterpiece of forced abuse, yet also arousal. Glancing down I could see her fingers digging deep into her well spanked ass of a fortnight removed. The way she timed each clawing gesture with my candle wax slow cock strokes was lovely.

The sight of my glistening cock splaying open her labia, flush with primarily her own secretions, was surreal. I’m not sure if there are colors worthy to describe how the hues of purple and pink played with each other. Perhaps Crayola can come up with a BDSM themed set?

I opened my hands slowly, keeping contact with her Achilles’ heel tendons. Then, with the care a golfer would apply their grip to a 18th green driver I reapplied my grip with firm fervor and conviction. Leigh whimpered at the sensation of another set of fingers digging into her flesh aside from her own. She knew what was coming. And she couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Spreading her legs a few inches wider elicited a gasp of a scream, if such a thing exists. I adjusted my hips to better meet the new and wider access I had to her cunt, then started to fuck her with an increased pace.

“Uhhhhhhhhh…..” she throatily gasped as stroke after stroke found its mark with renewed vigor. The first splat of her juices against my hips told me everything I assumed was correct. She was going to release herself involuntarily all over me, and very soon at that. All that it would take was to continue my rapidly escalating strokes as well as talk to her own inner cock slut.

“Ohhhh, you stroke fucking love stroke this, don’t you stroke slut? You stroke love when stroke I make you stroke squirt all over stroke and there is stroke not a fucking stroke thing you stroke can do about stroke it, is there?” stroke

Leigh’s face contorted. Her mouth opened as if to say something to me, yet nothing but raw, frustrated lust came out. She started to grow red in the cheeks, eyes wide, her ridiculously swollen cunt folds squeezed my cock so tight my pulse could have been taken if she had been so inclined.  The muscles of her torso rose off the bed and contracted, arching the pointed nipples high atop her swaying breasts. And her hands! Fuck! They were practically shredding her ass from involuntary reaction to the pending wet eruption building inside her.

“Oooooh may I please come, Sir?!?!” she wailed, fighting off the release that was likely a simple reply away from soaking both of us.

“No….”

Her eyes grew wide, frantically looking for safe harbor, for mercy. She was literally a second from opening the flood gates, gates being fucked balls deep with vicious coldness.

Leigh was gagging through short, held breaths in a vain attempt to keep her sanity.

“Oh Please Sir, PLEASE may I come?!?!?” she pleaded.

“You may come,” I coldly replied in the midst of fucking her senseless, “but only if you say “I’m a pain slut” over and over when you do.”

Her face froze. Our eyes locked. I could tell this was a boiling over point. She hates to admit she loves to be made to articulate her own inner whore.

A few more cervix deep strokes and her body convulsed. I swear it felt like her cunt escaped and tried to eat my cock from the amount of blood that filled her velvet walls. Her face racked in frozen agony, just fucking gorgeous. A silent scream that must be what angels sound like when they orgasm filled the room, then a groan that would have woken the dead. Squirt after squirt anointed us both, our hips soaked in a glistening kiss.

Then she rasped out “I’m a pain slut, I’m a pain slut” over and over.

“LOUDER!!!” I roared as my cock surged beyond what I thought I was capable of owning.

“I’M A PAIN SLUT!! I’M A PAIN SLUT! FUCK I’M A PAIN SLUT!! OOOOHHH I’M A FUCKING PAIN SLUT!!” again and again, the multiple orgasms ripping through her body and soul, the sopping slap slap slap of our hips each spraying us both. All the while her hands practically drew blood from her sore ass as mine did to her ankles spread wide.

After almost two minutes of this she pitifully gasped and collapsed onto herself, her muscles limp from the ordeal. We both stayed locked cock to cunt, gasping for precious air.

A low growl escaped through my clenched teeth. Again and again that sound rolled across us. She thought she was done and looked at me as such.

Cold as ice I made a single slow, full stoke of her folds as I said “Now its your nipple’s turn.”

Hyde roared as Leigh, whimpering and whining, moved her fingers to their erect points while my molasses slow fuck strokes started anew.

Seek And Go Hyde Act V

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Interview With A Submission Vampire Vol.1 No.13

Another Selfish Sunday, another IWASV™ at highway speeds.

The way the blog is starting to resemble a snowball rolling down an Alpine mountainside toward the sleepy, unexpecting village in the valley below feels like blogging above the speed limit as well. I’ll touch on this more sometime tomorrow morning in my weekly Monday java musings slash feeble attempt to chemically jump start my nervous system via massive doses of caffeine and smart ass commentary. But thank you all in advance.

If you are a long time (all of not four months makes you an old timer) Peeker™ you should be familiar with Leigh and mine’s adoration of spanking. She craves the good pain and release that a proper ass blistering can provide. I crave the way a few thousand well placed spanks from my hand can send her so far inside herself, as well as the simplistic reality that it’s humbling and fun as fuck to spank her snowy (more snow references) white ass cherry read.

It’s certainly a symbiotic relationship. Each of us feed off what the other brings, provides and gives freely via the course of a spanking session. Anyone who does not believe in the power exchange aspect of WIITWD is full of shit in my opinion. I’ve blogged about this on numerous occasions. Feel free to review the Random Musings in The Archives for more on my feelings regarding this.

But (heh, I said but while discussing spanking) back to the topic at hand (I’m killing myself here). Peeker™ surrenderedone offered this lovely question in regards to spanking, subspace/Topspace, limits and the power exchange that ties it all together (ooooh, bondage). She wanted to know:

“When Sir and I recently spent a long weekend together, we explored erotic spanking further.  I think my reactions to His spanking caused Him to worry He was hurting me too much for me to handle, and I wasn’t sure how to reassure Him.  I have read enough of your experiences to know that it is a process, that in some ways it seems to be like “hitting” the wall before the endorphins fit in. Both He and I want to push the limits further….to reach that “place.”  Are there any tips you have for reassuring each other and not being afraid to just “let go”?  We both feel we stopped before we really got to the good stuff ;)”

First, thank you for thinking enough of us to ask a spanking question. We are relative newcomers (heh) to this as well.

Spanking can be a (bad joke warning) hit or miss proposition. There are so may ways to approach how to not just incorporate this into your play but also just how. It seems a number of proponents embrace the few but fierce approach of a limited number of actual blows but at a velocity that is close to, if not at, their physical capabilities to deliver. Plus there is the whole issue of striking implements such as paddles, straps, canes, etc.

For the sake of my reply I will deal with the classic bare hand on bare ass. Its hard (I give up) to go wrong with this approach, but with it may I offer these suggestions:

– Start slow and low, as in not that violent. Warm the skin up, get the blood flowing, ease into the scene. You wouldn’t start your car on a freezing January morning and floor the accelerator to red line the RPMs, would you? Then use the same approach when warming your submissive’s ass.

– Use tempo. A slow steady rhythm that can be built on, increased in pace as the scene progresses. To build intensity rapidly strike the same ass cheek in repetition. A ten or twenty count on the same cheek is vastly different from the same alternating every other butt cheek.

– SDS. Cannot convey how important striking they Same Damn Spot repeatedly is. This builds endorphins like nothing else. Don’t wander. Find the submissive’s sweet spot, focus and hit it in succession with our waver. You’ll see.

– Build in breaks to the scene. This is where the Dominant needs to earn their stripes. The ability to know when their submissive has reached a certain level, a plateau, then push them just a little further than they think they can go. Now stop. Allow blood to flow back to the abused area. You’ll be rewarded on a variety of levels for this. It gives the submissive a chance to acclimate to their situation, perhaps get some endorphins, and also the increased blood return should aid in the acquisition of welts and bruises, which are oddly important to most submissives post scene.

– Now start all over but a little harder. Increase the force of the blows, the intensity, etc. Repeat all of the above. With each new round of spanks just keep doing what I described above, but with just a little more force, a hair more intensity.

– Eventually you will both reach a state where it is obvious that you have arrived at, or more specifically pushed each other to, what you think are your limits. This is where communication is key, and why safe words are so important. Until the submissive cries yellow or red, the Dominant should continue. The Dominant should know their submissive well enough to read body language, breathing patterns, muscle tension, verbal cues, etc.

Both of you will need to trust the other implicitly. The submissive will be at ease knowing that the Dominant will not ignore their impending limits but also push them a little. The Dominant will trust that as long as the submissive does not safe w0rd that everything, regardless of what it may appear, is fine. The submissive must NOT be proud! This is crucial. To endure any sort of BDSM play well past the point of “good pain” is dishonest. It is OK to call red, to admit that is enough. But before one does, trust the Dominant to know if you are capable of more than you may think. Likewise, as the Dominant it is your job to know when to push and when to back off.

In the end, it’s all about communication and trust. Don’t abuse either from either role in the D/s dynamic and you both will be rewarded. Don’t be afraid to be afraid, either of you. It’s OK.

I hope this helps you both push past that edge and into a whole new level of “letting go.”

– Scot

A Peek Back 8-18

I promised, after last’s weeks tangent on safe words, this week would be story intensive. So far I feel that I have honored my word.

Counting poetry, which is special to me in that it’s about one person and one person only (my Leigh), there are five new pieces of erotica to read. And, before midnight Sunday, there will be at least two more.

That would be, since I was in school the day they covered sevens, seven stories and poems in seven days. Its been a challenge to keystroke that much and have the confidence in them to click Publish. But I have enjoyed it, and from the page views so have you. There is a very good chance we could set a single week views record.

Very soon, likely in the next week or so, you will be all privy to some flogging stories, or at least one. Our initial foray into flog play went very well. Leigh was quite floaty, and I was rather proud of my neophyte efforts with the leathers. She has given this avenue the green light, so it’s very likely that as the days grow shorter our flogging stories will grow longer (heh).

I fucking love using it on her. Not gonna lie. But there is so much to learn and consider when using one. Practice, practice, practice. Plus Leigh has had a most unique challenge this week. You’ll read more about that as well.

If you’re a first time Peeker™ Leigh and I welcome you to your virginal peek through the keyhole. I strongly encourage you to view all of the established Pages, which can be viewed by selecting any of the tabs at the top of this page.

The Archives are an inclusive, running version of every post of note on this blog. If you have not read any or all of the stories, random musings, poetry, etc linked from The Archives by all means please grab a seat, perhaps a cup of coffee (we’re big on coffee) sit back and enjoy.

Speaking of coffee, read this week’s Peek Back as I get some more:

Interview With A Submission Vampire Vol.1 No.12 – In leu of a Peeker™ question I accepted another blogging award. This means ten more pieces of Scot Trivia…sigh.

The Greatest Coffee Excuse Is 6 AM Monday – Considering I was barely awake this week’s assortment of random musings was pretty good.

Drip Drop – An erotic poem inspired by the candlelit vision that was Leigh’s chained, spread eagle pose.

Scenesounds – While we haven’t added music to scenes, this is why and also some we might when we do.

The Butterfly Chains Act II – My sadistic plans took an unexpected turn when Leigh’s erotic beauty cast a spell.

An Erotic World Champion Poet – My poem Drip Drop was featured in a cleverly named ePub. I’m totally claiming this.

Breaking Leigh Act XI – The final act in the longest story on the blog, and a very special one to me personally.

Breaking Leigh – Epilogue – The postscript to the above. What happened later that night plus some thoughts on the story.

My Alabaster Doll – Another piece of erotic poetry, this time regarding the flogging of Leigh’s beautifully displayed breasts.

One last thing, a confession if you will. I’m actually typing this Friday evening. Oh, I didn’t lie about getting more coffee. I am. Just not as I prepare to finalize this so I can sleep in with my doll.

Am I sorry to have possibly told a creative truth earlier?

Nope…

– Scot

A Peek Back 8-4

Is whupped an acceptable term?

I was that in spades last night. Even hearts. Work whupped me. How much so? It was a chore to sit down, which I hadn’t done all day. The floor beckoned like a siren to the rocks. Well they were actually pillows from the couch.

What, you’ve never jumped from one couch to another to avoid the lava flow river below?

Anyway, I had planned to write Act X of Breaking Leigh, the one where depending on my word count  (I try to keep posts to just over 1000 words) it was very likely the tears might finally flow. But, alas, my brain was so much overcooked oatmeal that I chose not to write.

I will never just vomit words to create content, be a slave to page views, etc., nor I am interested in accumulating scores of Peekers™ for the sake of scores of Peekers™.  If people wish to peek through the keyhole, they are welcome. If their own social networking efforts appeal to me, I will Follow back.

Coffee….more….coffee. Ahhhhhh…

If you’re a neophyte Peeker™ Leigh and I welcome you to your initial peeks through the keyhole. I strongly encourage you to view all of the established Pages, which can be viewed by selecting any of the tabs at the top of this page.

The Archives are an inclusive, running version of every post of note on this blog. If you have not read any or all of the stories, random musings, poetry, etc linked from The Archives by all means please grab a seat, perhaps some coffee (we’re big on coffee), sit back and enjoy.

So hoping I stay awake long enough to Publish this, here is this week’s Peek Back:

Interview With A Submission Vampire Vol.1 No.10 – Avid Peeker™ Kayla Lords wanted to know if we employed punishment in our D/s relationship. Now she knows the answer and why.

Monday Coffee Kickstart – Random musings on random topics with a barely functioning Dominant in need of a caffeine fix.

We’re Pink Leather Unicorn Awesome! Twice! – The most unique blog award image yet, more Scot  trivia (sigh) and a list of fucking awesome blogs you need to check out.

What Subspace Feels Like – The Fates decided we should hear this song. It shook us, as well as others from all the Comments.

I Inspired A Coffee Nooner – An off the cuff comment to romance author Miya Kressin on Twitter inspired her to write some java smut! You will never drink a latte the same every again, trust me.

Others Agree Subspace Feels Like That – Our .02 on the aforementioned song and subsequent post gets a feature mention in an ePaper!

Chain Of Rules Act IV – This latest act of the Chain Of Rules story focuses on two of Leigh’s most magnificent attributes not called eyes.

Seek And Go Hyde Act III – How hot is this? I needed to change my shirt after writing it. The Comments agree – probably the most scalding Act I’ve written thus far. Whew!

Just Cry – A very personal and special erotic poem for my doll, trying to capture a very personal and special moment.

I think I have the energy to click Publish. Maybe another cup of coffee will ensure you all read this today.

– Scot

Just Cry

Words like rain falling

down the rabbit hole I

chase the tears and make them

cry for no reason other than

the pain was so sweet the

night was still young the

heat of the moment that

was my hand blistering your

ass so soft lush full red hot

august wasn’t born yet

we felt its thick embrace of

sweat anointing my desire to

take you where you could

fly away please go be free of

it all will still be here yet

you stayed within

your walls of self so fucking 

high as a kite on my chains

breaking link by link when the

hands that spanked you raw as

fuck your eyes my doll why

are you crying now

its time to go be free of

this world of dancing candlelight

shadows glow eyes moisten as we

share a dirty secret with none yet all

know that I adore

you started to cry when the

hand so fierce held your head

so soft the tears so

beautiful my doll so

just cry

– Scot (trying to do justice to the beauty of a week’s night ago when Leigh cried the most beautiful tears of subspace release while I cradled her head)

Seek And Go Hyde Act III

(To read Seek And Go Hyde Act I or Act II)

It wasn’t so much the calm before the storm as much as before the monsoon.

The rain was going to come hard and heavy, as in my cock was beyond hard and she was going to be fucked heavily with it while she came. Repeatedly. The torrential squirting that are Leigh’s G spot orgasms were all but insured, even before I entered her.

She broke the icy grip that was our combined stare long enough to glance down at the oily monster hovering inches above her helpless spread cunt. There would be no assistance needed to position its bulbous head at the opening to her already glistening slit.

I swear my cock pulsed and twitched at her, like an angry Brahma bull might do before charging.

My hands squeezed her ankles as tight as I could, eliciting a helplessly frantic whimper from Leigh when their fingers pressed deep into her tender flesh. It was a reminder, a silent fair warning to fucking behave…or else.

Hyde wanted to play.

Placing the head of my cock well below the entrance to her cunt I rolled my hips forward. The slick shaft stroked the length of her folds, teasing them, warning them, anointing them for what they were about to receive.

Again and again I used my erection like a rigid tongue on her. It felt fucking amazing how her labia caressed the frenum, making my attempts to tease her not just enjoyable physically but also spiritually. My eyes drank in her distress and growing arousal, my ears in tune with her whimpers and moans

But the inner beast Hyde took in the most. Her fear. And he wanted more. A lot fucking more.

On a lark I started to roll my hips up and down, causing the head of my cock to spank her wide open clit with a staccato thwap thwap thwap.

“Uh..uuh..uuhhh..uuhhhh” she gasped with short, shrill breaths, her legs pulling against my death grip to no avail. Leigh’s torso twisted in spasmodic reflex to the abuse her swelling lil’ button was receiving.

thwap thwap thwap thwap thwap

This was fun. I smiled, which looking back is not in character for me. But then again I really wasn’t the one cock spanking her spread cunt. Hyde was, the evil bastard. And he delighted in her increasing distress.

One last slit length stroke of her and I positioned the thick head at her cunt’s opening. She glanced down at the sight. I know she was thinking “Oh my fucking God there is no way that beast is going to fit inside there!”

“Look at me” I coldly hissed. “I SAID LOOK AT ME SLUT!”

Our eyes locked. Now joined at the soul, it was time to watch her react as we joined at the hip, inch by inch.

I leaned forward and effortlessly slid the head inside her. I’m not sure what felt better – the way her cunt flared open tight or the way her pupils flared open wide. Perhaps it was both, for I cannot recall such an amazing first fuck stroke.

Inch by inch I rolled that slick monster inside her, all the while the sick monster inside me seethed to make her scream in pain and pleasure.

A groan that one would likely imagine hearing from a graveyard at midnight escaped from her. It had a throaty quality to it, deep, husky, thick with mucous and lust. Hyde adored that. So my did cock. It pulsed inside her, eliciting more of the same from her.

After what felt like an eternity my balls pressed firmly up against her, which in turn made her rasp with not so much arousal but legitimate concern about the distinct possibility she was about to be fucking torn apart inside out.

“Ohhhhh fuck baby, that feels amazing” I groaned, pressing as hard as I could without moving, filling her to the limits of her depths. And pinned her to the mattress like that, a sexy butterfly for my personal collection. No motion, no in and out, no friction. Just complete fullness. Hot, wet, silken and vulnerable. The fact her ass cheeks, still raw from the blistering they received just the night before, were pressed hot against me was a bonus.

Leigh exhaled long and slow in an attempt to gather focus, be better able to handle this situation on all accounts. She wiggled her hips ever so slightly, allowing just a fraction more of her depths to be used. I’m sure you all know what that iota of extra space feels like, regardless if you are a man or a woman. It’s the difference between eye rolling and temporary insanity.

I did both.

My eyes rolled back into the recesses of my skull like a B movie demon. My mind….

….snapped. And I growled.

Soft and low, an unmistakable snarl rolled from somewhere inside me. Primal, raw, it had the quality of a predatory cat on the hunt the way it rrrrrrrrolled out of my lungs. I seethed to fuck her blind.

I think this happened a few times, each time growing lower and more guttural in quality. Forgive me for my lack of clarity and recall, for I honestly did not have much blood above my hips for such trivial matters like memory or sanity. Plus the whole issue of someone else being “there” in my stead.

Hyde.

With a pace rivaling melting wax I began to fuck Leigh with long, slow strokes, each one deliberately bottoming out inside her.

“Guuuuhhhhhh” was about as good as she could offer verbally. It was if my cock was obstructing her vocal chords, which is how it felt as each stroke pressed against her cervix. By the way I was kneeling between her wishboned legs each snail pace’s stroke drug the length of my erection across her G spot. Back and forth like January’s molasses, and just as sticky sweet.

Leigh especially responds to the out strokes. Those are what she loves, what turns her cunt into a broken fire hydrant. The way her body rocked and spasmed with each lunge of my cock, how her hands flailed frantically at my hips in a last ditch attempt to save her cunt and her extremely sore ass.

That pissed me off. Really pissed me off. My cunt. My orgasms. Not hers. Fuck her.

My eyes burned with rage. FUCK HER.

Fine. If she wants her hands down there, so be it.

Cold as fuck I looked right through her and, without breaking rhythm, said one thing:

“Grab your ass cheeks….now.”

“UhhhHHHHHH!!!” she whimpered in protest. She gave me those baby deer eyes, pleading, begging for mercy.

She got none. My glare gave her the verdict.

With almost sobbing despair she placed both her hands firmly on each cheek and dug her fingernails in deep. Hyde roared inside me at the scream that escaped her quivering lips.

Now it was time to fuck.

Seek And Go Hyde Act IV

Interview With A Submission Vampire Vol.1 No.10

Another Selfish Sunday, another Interview at 60MPH.

Leigh’s insistence on driving is a double edged sword of sorts. On one side of the blade there is the obvious affront to my driving skills and rugged machismo. As mentioned previously, I am not the household’s all-time record holder in moving violations (heh).

But then I turn the blade over and there is being, in effect, chauffeured by a vivacious, large breasted, baby blue eyed redhead. Don’t think that I don’t cop gratuitous feels or looks. And I also get to just be, relax, zone out. Leigh has commented on the snoring beside her on more than one occasion.

And I get to read, which I adore. Unlike a lot of people I don’t get car sick when skimming pages over the speed limit. And eat. And drink.

And why the fuck am I complaining? Exactly what is wrong with this picture?

Why, nothing. Drive on Leigh, drive on. I have perverts to interact with. And if I chance across an unsecured WiFi hot spot even update the blog on the fly…literally.

Which brings us to, as not to upset any of the local law enforcement and add to Leigh’s house record, a just over the speed limit installment of IWASV™, our tenth one! Has it really been ten weeks of TDND™ already? Damn!

This week’s question is courtesy of avid Peeker™ Kayla Lords. Her comments are always insightful, raw in honesty, usually dripping with heat and overall good mojo. She also gives great blog. Check her out.

Kayla wanted to know:

“In your posts, you talk about the sensuous, sexual side of your TDND relationship.  I don’t remember a post about discipline/punishment for Leigh when she does something wrong.  Is that not a part of the dynamic of your relationship?  Do you simply choose to keep that part of your relationship private?  Or I have gone blind, and you’ve talked about it plenty, but I didn’t see it?  If you don’t mind sharing, how does punishment and discipline work in your D/s relationship?”

First, thank you for the question Kayla. We love Peekers™ who want more of an eyeful.

Leigh did touch on this very issue when she shared her thoughts and views via answering the spanking meme, specifically questions #4, 11, 17, 21, 38, 42 and 46. But to expound on this, no we do not use spanking as a form of actual punishment. Although, to be fair, I did interject it into the Breaking Leigh scene as an unplanned reason as to why she was to be spanked to tears.

That, in hindsight (really bad spanking joke) was likely more for me to establish a persona opposite her naughty school girl. So it may be fair to say that in the future when we do role play, we may very well use pseudo punishment as an underlying theme to give us a common delineator between characters.

But, as Leigh so distinctly put it in the meme, she enjoys “spanking for the sake of spanking.” And she also loathes, and I mean bristles, at the thought of introducing actual punishment in any way, shape or form. This is one area of D/s that she has absolutely zero interest in exploring. Outside the bedroom we are we. She is my wife, my best friend, my equal partner in the journey of life. She does not take well to being told what to do, which may explain why behind a closed bedroom door she embraces it.

I’ve referenced this a few times in previous musings about her, that there are dark aspects to Leigh she has a love-hate relationship with. As in she hates to admit that she loves being forced to be such a slut, to do and have done to/with/in/on her all types of perversions. Be it to herself due to situation, or out loud and verbally to me as a result of certain persuasive techniques, she can use D/s as a conduit to remove herself from the equation. She is not the one doing these filthy acts, but rather she has no choice but to do them.

Personally, I would rather feed off this internal dilemma of carnal mind fuck than have her a wantonly open and enthusiastically uninhibited slut offering the same. Its so much more delicious to force her to confront her own filthy kink than to have her just give it away to me. Its not the kill, but the thrill of the chase.

So, indirectly, there are trace elements of humiliation and punishment. But those are just for us to enjoy. I have no desire to subject her to any similar dilemmas outside our dynamic, not that she would allow me to anyway. Plus, she’s far too bright a diamond to dull that way.

For us the D/s dynamic works just fine without being caged within the framework of a formalized agreement, contract and any subsequent penalties for violating one. She has four simple rules for when the bedroom door closes, and I respect any and all her hard limits. That is not to say  I do not push her on some of them. I’d be a sad excuse of a Sir to not try to help her venture further inside herself than she may admit she is capable of going.

I’m not passing judgment on those who find this exhilarating or even a fetish. I can totally see the appeal of it, and if the looming threat of punishment works for them by all means more power exchange to them. My only thoughts on such arrangements is that often the submissive will be a brat on purpose to be disciplined, punished, etc. I’m not down with that at all. Its classic Topping from the bottom “Ooooh, I was a bad, bad girl. I’m going to get punished!” on purpose shit.

That’s not being honest. That’s an end to a means (another bad spanking joke) with an agenda. The purpose is willful intent to achieve a desired result – being disciplined for “bad behavior”. Its basically role play, which is fine. Just don’t call it structured or formal punishment. It is what it is – role playing, not D/s punishment.

Just yesterday Leigh texted me and said “I think I need a good spanking. So I can just let go for a while.” You will all be reading about the beauty of that evening soon, if I can adequately find the words to properly paint such a special moment with the portrait it deserves.

No punishment. No discipline. I was in control, she was subservient to my wishes. Yet we worked together, hand on ass, to get both of us to a beautiful moment in time. And not one iota of her being a bad girl deserving an hour on my lap while her collar was chained to the wall.

She was an angel over my knee. And angels should not be punished. They should be celebrated, even one spank at a time.

Just my two cents, which is about all its worth.

– Scot