My Grey; A Tale of Sensual Submission

My Grey. 

He came into my life, just as my sex drive was beginning to re-awaken. Dry spells happen, and it had felt like my pussy was frozen over with the winter months, and I lost sensitivity and feeling. I hadn't been deeply touched by a man (as opposed to a boy) in what felt like months (a week can feel like a month for me), and just as a super sex crazed goddess was beginning to doubt man-kind, My Grey delivered me deep soul-satisfaction. I didn't know how much I needed the deep comfort of a man; even if it was temporary. 

He didn't ask permission, we didn't make pre-planned agreements about boundaries or limits, or tell past stories about love and lust. He simply walked in my door, and through desire, claimed me. An unsuspecting stranger, and came waltzing into my life, unannounced, uninvited, and certainly didn't play by other people's rules. There are some encounters where you skip over the shallow end, and dive head first for the deepest waters. 

"So you're a Domme," he asks over the phone, incomplete in his statement, for he has already seen into my true nature of wanting to be submissive. "But you're really just a sweet little girl wanting to give yourself over to a strong man," he says in a steady and firm voice with a steamy Aussie accent,  but with so much passion and fullness behind his stern exterior. He warms me immediately, which is I also find to be deeply threatening.  

"Yes I like to be more submissive in my personal life." I say with a light heart, not realizing he would be emotionally and sexually ruling over me the next day. 

A few missed emails here and there, but we finally meet on a cold afternoon in DC. I've only seen pictures of him from the face down on a kinky online dating site... so I wasn't sure what to expect from my New Grey. I'm comforted by his his classy demeanor which comes off more British then Aussie. 

He leads on that he's been thinking of me ... Profusely... And can't get me out of his mind... The muse has stricken him.

We arrange a loose time to meet, and he gets buzzed up to my door, and walks in as if he owns the place. He's dressed in a nice preppy blue suit and graphic red tie, a pinstriped shirt and a blue scarf, tied tightly around his neck, making him appear taller than he really is. 

This is what my Grey did to me; pierced me with his slate blue eyes, erect stance, undyingly seductive scent from his neck... and his heart was mine from the first embrace

My lights have gone out in half the apartment while I was using the blow dryer, and I needed a man to locate the fuse box... he scans the entire apartment and we can't find it, until we recline on the couch, and it pops off the wall and the fuse box catches my eye. He doesn't allow me to have to have the pleasure of fixing the problem; he needs to be the man and do it himself.

Now we can relax... then.. we touch ...

I am completely over-taken by the power in my Grey's embrace. The smell from his collar floats into soul... My heart is helpless against his valor and strength. I'm butter in is hands, and I recline on the bed. him on top of me, still in his suit, and he never gets completely naked.  

He is now the seducer, not I, and morality and boundaries go out the window ... For me. 

"I'm not going to have sex with you." I say, jokingly, trying to uphold my original intention of meeting him. 

"I'm not going to have sex with YOU," he replies sharply back with serious cold blue eyes. Shit my head is under water and he's the only source of oxygen. 

He presses his lips against mine, his saliva intentionally dripping into my mouth... And I become wild at the purity of it; it's like morning honey dew. 

He presses me onto the bed, his hands firm but never too hard... And he starts to go for my pussy. 

I'm doomed at this point, my juices running over, his force growing stronger ... I have trained myself to feel more pleasure with my eyes closed. He forces them open; I cannot enjoy the moment purely for my own pleasure. Grey's fingers are fucking me so he can see the look in my eyes as I come. 

"Look at me," Grey demands, and I am scared not too. 

I forget his request, the pressure building inside of me, deeply, him pressing into my pussy, I close my eyes again.

"LOOK at me," stating again his wishes for eye contact. 

He drives me wild, but I want to feel his cock against me, against my bare skin, in any which way I can, even though he's not fucking me. Dammit. 

My naked Ass in the air, and he still has his suit on. 

He pounds my wet kitty with his hands, I'm making sounds as if he's fucking me ... He gets me until I turn over, face up again even more vulnerable to his masculine power, he leans in,

"You are intoxicating," he leans up and whispers into my ear, driving the hot knife even deeper into me. 

His cock is now taking the stage; it's popping out of his pants, rock hard, bulging with desire for me. 

"Who did that to me?" he asks in his intimidating voice, piercing my eyes again.  

"I did," I say in a soft voice, him still penetrating me with his hands. 

"Who did that to me?" he demands a better answer.  

"I did," my voice can't help but quiver

"Say it with confidence"

"I did?"

"Who did that to me?" 

"You're little girl did." 

He likes that answer better and says I am his favorite little girl ... 

We're both working my juices this time, making sure no part of my internal system is untouched. 

"Come for Daddy. Daddy wants you to come," he says sternly again, demanding my orgasm for him. We work it up slowly, then more quickly.... until I completely release, staring into Grey's eyes, pushing my pleasure into him, I know he's feeling it too. 

He stands up after this, his cock inches away from my face, and touches himself. This drives me absolutely wild, for he doesn't let me suck it, he doesn't' allow me to taste his come, and he doesn't allow me to sit on it either. I am denied cock rights. I've never met a man with such self-control, but it also makes me think he's hiding something. 

He keeps stroking his cock, and he is so built up from our encounter, that he quickly squirts all over me, my face, and belly and all over the bed. 

He comes in for a cuddle before he says good-bye, and drives his domineering presence even deeper into me. 

His mouth is right by my ear, his words aren't processed through my brain, they are first felt in my heart, and then tell my head what to think. They drip out of him like warm golden honey, hitting every fiber of my being, playing me like a delicate violin, staking his territory.  

"Tomorrow you are to lay in bed, and forget the way my lips feel on yours." My heart sinks.. I don't want to forget. But this is precisely why he is saying it. 

"You are to not remember the way my two fingers feel in your pussy, or the wetness of my come," his eyes burning into me, 

He's burning straight into my retinas, not allowing any other thought in my body. Driving the memorable impression deeper, I quiver underneath him, he pierces me so deep into me I want to cry. 

Despite his request to forget, I can do nothing but remember. 

The Dark Prince’s Arrival into My Heart

       He came in like a dark prince in twilight, riding into the village of my soul, bearing an open chest of great triumph. His heart open, body full of power, warmth in his eyes, every word that rolls off his beautiful luscious lips is sweet nectar to my psyche. He had a conquest that day, and made his offering to me; A boundless golden heart, a mind with limitless opportunity, him an open book for me to contribute chapters of scripture, scribed with my body on top of his.

I did not choose to start to read him delicately page by page; instead I shredded the book open, tore out the pages and did not think how to arrange them. 

We had never met before he showed up on my doorstep; we were only a FB Business connection, only words over the phone, and now I'm curled up in his arms in my bed and we are wrestling around, feeling the contours of one another's bodies. 

He's half Italian, half Egyptian, somehow all Jew, speaks English like an innocent enthusiastic child who has never been tainted by the world, nor never lost his wonder for the world. And when Hebrew words are uttered, it's a gorgeous vibration coming from his soul. His smile and eyes say the same thing; he is a pure unblemished version of his childhood self, and if I can be blunt, perfectly cut and chiseled, skin softer than silk... But his bodily form is just an outer reflection of his inner light. His eyes are big almonds, a musky electric hue of brown, eyelashes for days, and a relaxed and open demeanor.

We are two young lovers, wrapped in each others embrace and passion, I melt underneath his kisses and words, each utterance from his mouth a holy seduction into the core of my being.

He presents his body to me like a gift, and I unwrap it. He’s a romantic at heart, and takes great care in speaking to me softly, as my Prince now addresses me as his Princess.

We negotiate around the fact that I am still on my moon, and him being Jewish, he does not mix sex and blood. We work around the hindrance and he works me deeply and steadily with my favorite sex toy; fucking my pussy open by my pink toy to boundless pleasure, my moon time making my pleasure more luminescent and radiant; I feel like my orgasm is a shooting magical glitter burst of love inside of my body, moving me beyond time and space. I am completely satisfied, which still leaves us to his magical Sword, which is a perfect work of art unto of itself. His skin is liquid honey and I love putting his beautiful hard and full cock in my mouth, teasing the rim. He gets my wet toungue and mouth artfully, I give as an act of Devotional Love; bowing to his cock to his pleasure, to His Heart.

 I relish in it for quite some time until I work him up to a full explosion, his come like a Geyser in Yellowstone, shooting a celebration of pleasure from his perfect body. That magical unexplainable shimmer is his come, and I lick it up like a Vixen kitten licking up milk from my bowl; a humble reward, a pleasure I rarely enjoy so much. I lay my head on his belly and we bask in the glow of our new love; a language both him and I are fluent in, but we do not speak with words, but with explosions of passion inside our bodies.

We sleep close to one another, his embrace so delicate and safe, something again so rare to find. We awake to more rough crazy passion, this time him finding himself inside of my ass; going in so slow into my most delicate place SOOOOO slowly, until it is all the way in and I relax around it. Then he can go to town, screaming Hebrew obscenities, pounding me like he’s an Olympian fucker, me taking it in so sweetly, completely out of breath from pleasure I can’t even speak.

He obliterates me in the best way, Creating so much contraction inside of me, I am a puddle of liquid love.

We reconvene in my bed after breakfast for round two; completely eating each other as if our bodies were the feast; the most passionate kisses, uniting in our embrace. My entire self opens to his passionate glory. He fucks me into God.

And we say good-bye like new lovers do; kissing over and over again, not letting each other go, each kiss draws us in slowly, and it takes him another hour to just get out the door.

*****

We still hadn’t made LOVE though, he still hadn’t been inside of my humble pussy, as he likes to call her. We wait a couple of days until he can come over next; he teaches me naughty Hebrew to practice so when he comes back he can be aroused by my words;

“Tizzayanoti ashrav”

“Tizzayanoti bavakasha”

Words that invite him into my body, “will you fuck me?” a loose translation and whenever I want to get him hard I just say those words. If he’s already inside of me and I say them and he explodes in come, again screaming at the top of his lungs with his orgasm. Everything about him was built for love, his soft words, his soft tongue, his immaculate cock.  

We have video of all of our love-making; he just sent me the video from our very first time of him being in my pussy; our legs intertwined, the tender love is translated through the film. You can hear our voices speaking to one another, and he calls me his Princess as I moan in delight from him penetrating me. 

No one has set me on utter fire like he has… a heart burning open so wide in our love, something so tender and sweet.

He leaves me with the words, “I fuck you better than when I fucked my wife.”

Yearning to Surrender...An Attempt to be a Submissive.

February 3^rd, 2013

 To catch you up….

Wolfie and I lost touch after our first session because after arranging our second session, I called to tell him that I would be 30 min late because I was at the gym.

He found this unacceptable, because Wealthy Submissives would not be able to tolerate a late Domme, and neither would he. He’s a stickler on time and cut me out of his life because I was late. I told him I completely understood the concept of being accountable with time.

We didn’t speak for a month. I travel to New York.

My yoga teacher Mark Whitwell, author of "yoga of heart", repeatedly instructs on the important Concept of “strength receiving”, of the masculine actually gaining true power by receiving the feminine essence. This to him is the path of true healing in humanity; for the masculine has been taught to dominate, to obliterate and even disrespect the fragile feminine essence. When this happens, an entire society suffers, and we loose the great gift that a woman is; pure sensual expression. I believe that bdsm re-instills the importance of surrendering your power, and receiving the wishes of your chosen deity, or dominant. The sub receives strength through surrender, by completely letting go to reality; and sometimes that reality is excruciatingly painful, uncomfortable and in a normal dynamic undesirable. But when dedicating oneself to the Dom/Domme, when done for another person, when the sub knows the dominant is also gaining power by witnessing another being’s perfect surrender to reality, they also gain an embodied experience of strength receiving.  all of reality is a relationship between two opposing forces; pleasure and pain, dominant and submissive, male and female, solar and lunar. It’s extremely yogic, tantric even. All we have is the breath, in  a way that when we encarnate into a body all we have is duality. We cannot even exist without the exhale so that we may make room for the inhale. The sun cannot rise if it does not set. And the submissive cannot find this euphoric space without the expression of their feminine essence; pure service and surrender. Inherently the dominant (masculine) has no power if it is not willingly given. and true masculine power is not stolen, forced, or taken. It is not the domme’s job to prove their power to the submissive, nor is it eithical for them to beat their submissive until all their power is lost. There becomes a mutual trust and faith in one another, like sky diving knowing that the parachute is there to save your life. This is the amount of trust that you need to have in this powerful dynamic.

I contemplate these philosophies after I complete my task for my Master.

You won’t believe it. I met my new master-to-be on  AIrBNB while renting a place in the big apple.

After the cops (yes Cops) came to my door in my first sublet situation in ny, I knew I couldn’t stay there. The location was hot, and not in a good way; there were neighbor complaints about too many subletters coming and going with suitcases. Either way, I didn’t want any more run-ins with the cops so I had to leave my super cheap $650/week rental and pay twice as much somewhere else.

This led me to Agostino. He was renting a very simple brick wall studio in Hell’s kitchen in Manhattan.  After deliberating if that would be a good neighborhood for me, or if I wanted to be somewhere quainter, I put the $1500 bid on a week in his studio. He replied quickly and gave me the place.

we set up an arranged meeting time for him to give me the keys to the apartment. He jokes around with me while I’m in the cab on the way to his place,

“Don’t try to hit on me!”

“Hahaha no problem, don’t try to hit on me!”

“Ok deal, most women try to get me to sleep with them.” He says jokingly. Somehow I’m turned on by the fact that we shouldn’t hit on each other.

My head is kind of spinning because there’s nothing sexier then flirting when you know you’re not supposed to. In this case he was kind of like my “landlord” and me his tenant, and we are having a simple business exchange here. I give him money, he hands me the keys. Simple right?

“I’m tall, with Dark hair, I’ll be standing out front of the apartment.”

“Okay I’m turning left on 9^th street, be there in 2 minutes.” I get nervous as I approach this tall dark and handsome man that I am not supposed to have any attraction towards.

I get out of the cab, he greets me warmly, with salt and pepper hair and helps me with my many bags on this cold February Day in New York.

He lets me inside, shows me the apartment and stays just a little longer than he needs to, but not enough to make it unusual. We have a professional good-bye.

Bed-time rolls around and I crawl under the covers, but 20 minutes later I’m still cold under the blankets, shivering actually. I can’t seem to get warm and the heat is cranked up all the way and it’s not getting warm in the apartment. I text agostino,

“where do you get a space heater?”

“Seriously? Or are you just finding a reason to text me?”

“No I’m really cold!”

“Well the heater works great, but if you want me to bring you a space heater in the morning I will. Text me in the morning if you’re still cold.”

“Agreed…” I thought it was rather interesting he found an excuse to come back over.

“Well actually let me take you out to breakfast.”

I’m a Gemini, I never say no to spontaneous offers! I agree to meet him at 9 in the morning.

Now Agostino isn’t what I would usually go after.. He’s in his mid-40’s, has a son, salt and pepper hair and not necessarily a sculpted body. But he just has an air about him, like I want him to touch me, and that his hands would be hot against my skin and make me melt against his 6 foot 6 frame.

I go to sleep somewhat tickled and anticipating breakfast with agostino.

Ok so it’s 9am and he comes by the apartment. We start to walk the neighborhood on this grey, cold, and wet February morning. It’s drizzling on us and we don’t have an umbrella. We start to graze the blvds like hungry cows looking for a green patch of grass but can’t find any. Every decent restaurant didn’t open until 11am. We seriously couldn’t find a breakfast place open for the life of us! We eventually walked into times square and settled for some super generic hotel restaurant that looked over the blaring lights.

We are looking at each other though, and Time’s Square is looking at us. I’m not sure exactly how the conversation landed on domination, but after so much small talk I think I just said it,

“you’re a dom aren’t you?” I ask him after picking up on his energy.

“Yes women tend to want to submit to me. And I’m good at leading them in that direction.”

“What about you, what is you work here in Ny?”

“I’m a dome too.”

So there ya go. Just spilling the beans wherever I go and telling my air bnb landlord that I’ll be domming clients out of his place. Hahahahahaha.

He doesn’t flinch.

“oh yeah I’ve had girls see clients out of my places. They usually pay me extra though.”

We discuss a few more business ideas, he’s genuinely getting to know me. We finish our meal and walk back to “my” place, he walks me inside, we hug and he says good-bye. I guess we are still trying to maintain some sense of professionalism with each other.

Hours go by and I can’t stop thinking about Agostino. I want to know what it’s like to bow before a big strong man, to let go into his arms, to bear my white ass to his face while he smacks it to his liking. I want to give him this.

I text him; “Agostino, I want to submit myself to you”

“thought so. Ok we will start now.”

Wow, not what I had in mind but I’m down.

“I’m going to give you a series of tasks. Complete them in the next 3 days.”

“ok Yes Agostino.”

“Practice saying my name. Look it up online ‘ahhhh-Gus-Teeee-no’ record yourself saying my name and send it to me.

Write me a letter between 3-5 pages long. You will tell me something you don’t like about yourself, something you like about yourself, something you’re going through right now, and what kind of lover you’d think I would be in bed.

Watch porn on youporn. Send me your top 3 choices.

Get your nails done. Text me when you’re at the nail salon and I will pick your color. Tell them your master is picking the color for you.”

HOLY SHIT.

I had better get busy. As soon as I had a spare moment, I took the time to warm up my vocal chords and say his name in the voice memos of my iPhone. I have to say it gets the body all worked up and nervous to do this because you want to please your master so bad. All I wanted was to please him, to make him happy, to be a good sub for him.

I sent that away. He was pleased at the annunciation and the sultry quality to my voice when I said it.

Next I was to write him this letter. I used to write hand written letters all the time; it’s one of my favorite things to do. But in this day in age we never take the time or thought to put a pen to paper and send them something we touched with our hands.

On my way home from an outcall, I had the cab take me to a card shop near my neighborhood. One of my favorite things about ny is the convenience of all the shops and how you can find anything just about anywhere. I go into the card shop and look through the papers to find the one that suited my personality the most. It ended up being these butterfly and rose cards, and I bought the pack of 20 in which they were sold, which is way more than what I needed. A few new pens were in order as well.

I went home, lit a candle and meditated on what I was to write to him. I poured my heart out, and put pen to paper about this recent relationship that was ripping me up, how we’re not talking anymore, but I’m still in love with him. I’m actually still quite tender from this whole experience and I cry tears onto my letter. I let agostino have all of my confessions, I didn’t hold back.

I was to send the letter the next day, first thing, but it ended up being the 4^th thing.

In the morning, my mind can only think about submitting my heart-felt letter to my master. The order of events;

1.     .    rush out of bed, dress
2.         lipstick on lips, kiss letter, spray with extra         perfume. 
3.     .    run across the street, drop off my laundry. hold     onto letter like it’s sacred
4.          scour the street for a mailbox but can’t find one.
5.          get my morning juice and tea from Starbucks
6.        hop in a cab to go to my hair appointment with ty       (the other air bnb guy I met).

So I speed across the city, worried that my master is going to know that dropping off the letter wasn’t the first thing that I did that day. I land on the salon block, get out of the cab, only to find that ty is late. He’s not even there.  I rushed like a crazy person to be on time for no reason. Okay. Breathe. So I walk down the street, finding the perfect mailbox to finally drop off my confession letter to agostino. A weight is lifted off my shoulders, for I completed my task for my master, and I can’t wait for him to open and read the letter written from my heart and slightly damp from tears.

I sit in Ty’s salon chair (see blog entry Brownstone Apartment, Parlor Floor) and we decide to darken my faded red hair to a dark purple-brown with highlights in the front.  When my hair extensions arrive we will put the extensions in. Ty is always running late, always rushing and always stoned. Not sure if the combination is a winning success.

After finishing my hair I walk down to a popular market center to grab some lunch. It’s fashion week in Ny and there are gorgeous tall, thin and fashionable models everywhere in the market place. I’m feeling shy and inward and hungry. I grab a small salad from the first place I see, consume it, and I’m still starving. So I walk a little further and sit down and order another dish. There are two women sitting next to me discussing designer labels, which dresses they need in which color, and that if they get the Versace dress in green they can scratch the Gucci off their list. It’s absolutely an absurd conversation. I later learn theyare just on a shopping trip from Nashville, Tennessee. Their husbands must be rolling in the dough and wanted to send their wives away to have some fun I thought. They asked me if I was in the fashion industry.

“No,” I replied. “I’m a dominatrix.”

I watch the initial reaction on their faces; the shock reaction sets in, but not severely.

“Well that must be fun. I’m happy you found something you like doing.”

Even though they were being polite I could feel their discomfort with such a profession, and what they imagine it could entail. They leave the table and the male waiter who overheard our conversation smiles at me, acknowledging my female power and gusto to speak openly about myself.

I make my way back to Agostino’s apartment and complete my next task for him; to watch porn on YouPorn and send him the top 3 films that turn me on. I grab a couple of slices of pizza next door then settle in with my computer and doing my homework. This is a hilarious assignment, as I don’t usually watch porn and eat pizza. Actually I hardly do either ACTIVITY.  it makes me EXTREMELY uncomfortable; Trying to eat pizza of all things is even more hilarious while watching lewd sexual acts as I found I couldn’t chew and swallow. I put the pizza aside as I couldn’t stand to eat and I did my research project for agostino. I chose a film of a busty young blond getting in the bathtub and self-pleasuring herself. I find watching women in their natural state enjoying pleasure is one of the most beautiful things to witness; there’s no male imposing his dick on her, making her suck it, she’s not acting like she ‘s enjoying the act, because she is in control of the scene, and doesn’t do anything out of her comfort zone.

The other film that I remember was a foreign film, with actual acting, scenes and sets involved. The female actress was a brunette, busty and curvy, not the typical Barbie-thin representation with fake tits. She was wondering through the city streets and got picked up by two hot males whom proceeded to take her to a barn where they performed all kinds of sexual acts including double penetration. But what was maintained the entire time was the real display of her pleasure; even though the men were taking control, she was in the experience (or so it seemed) the entire time. She was enjoying her feminine sensuality through the male penetrative force.

I sent off my selections to agostino, knowing that he was getting deeper into my psychology and sexual desires as a woman. I have done many things, but double penetration not being one of them; so obviously this film fulfilled that sexual fantasy.  As agostino’s submissive, I always desire his recognition and approval; my wish is to please him, as my master.

The following day I book and see clients. I start to play these lifestyle domination tactics with them; when they would book an appointment I would send them an email with a naughty photo of myself along with instructions on what they were to do before our session together. My new subs were to write down on a piece of paper in red ink that they belonged to me, That their heart was mine, their body was mine, that they would dedicate themselves to me. Then they had to take a picture OF THE DOCUMENT TO THE LOVE MISTRESS and send it to me. Next MY SUBS were to escape away form the daily grind as soon as possible (most were at work) and touch their cock until it became hard and send me a picture of it. They were not to work themselves up to orgasm, as I wanted all of their sexual energy to be as potent as possible when they arrived. One sub I had put a quarter in his shoe and WAS to walk around the entire day thinking of me, his mistress, and to step on the quarter when he wanted to intensify the feeling.

So here I was communicating and pleasing my master, agostino, then running some of the same domination tactics to multiple submissives at THE SAME time. My Gemini brain was on overdrive, I couldn’t type fast enough to each of them, nor could I keep it all straight. How did I prioritize my energy? Did I put my master first, or was I to be responsible to all of my submissives? The brain is not meant to simultaneously be in sub and dom space at the same time. I couldn’t handle it. It was like I was turning 8 wheels at a time and I only have two hands so I was constantly having to spin the wheels so they didn’t loose rotation or momentum, but I couldn’t keep up with it all. I had a complete psychological mishap of who I was, what I was supposed to be doing, which role I was playing, which to me experientially occupy different centers of my brain. It was as if I flipped a switch on all of the centers, and they all lit up with neon lights and it was so blinding I couldn’t see anymore. Have you ever been on too much ecstasy or acid to the point where your brain starts hurting? I needed to come down from all of these games, and fast or I was going to burn out. And I did.

Man after man came in to see me, and each time I would play a slightly different game with him, get into his psychology at a different angle, and of course always heavily seducing them. I could feel my desire to be around the masculine dwindle, my life force start to become depleted, and this is when energetically things can be taken from you.

I continued my yoga practice as this is the best way that I know how to replenish myself.

And then Valentine’s day rolled around. I was sensually taxed. My tactics weren’t working as powerfully, and my charm began to dwindle.

Meanwhile I started to communicate with Wolfie again (we had a falling out after our first session together). I texted him out of the blue and said  “I miss you.”

He texted me back and replied, “I miss you too. Hearing from you is such a relief and just your text make s my dick stand straight up.”

And so, after a month of not speaking, to wolfie, my SUB, he’s re-dedicates himself to me. I start these tactics on him, and this is when he gave his chastity up to me; while I was entirely on the other side of the country and I wasn’t going to be with him for two weeks. He gave his cock to me. I owned it; he couldn’t get off without my permission, nor could any other woman touch his member. This is power that of course pleased me and terrified me; can I handle this great responsibility of taking on a real sub who dedicates a real part of his life for me?

I wrote to Wolfie at night, and requested a letter from him, just as Agostino had requested a letter from me. I put a slightly different twist on it and requested that Wolfie tell me of his first love. And share what kind of dynamic he would like to have with me. He was to seal this intention and dedication to me by coming on the last page. I couldn’t wait to receive this letter. And I've acquired yet another sub while trying to be submissive to one man. heh.

Now back to Agostino; I had three more tasks to complete for him before our “date” on Saturday night where I was to feel his hands on my body; where he was going to spank me for his pleasure, where I was going to bow before my master and do what pleased him.

His request was to work myself to orgasm and record my voice saying his name while I was coming. I also suggested that I send him a video of me touching my pussy. He agreed that was a fine idea. So after domming my subs, I lay down at the end of a busy day, to re-inspire this energy between my dom and i. Even though I enjoy my role as a domme immensely, at the end of the day my deep yearning is to surrender; to completely let go, to not think, not direct, but to be in my natural feminine state. It takes more energy sometimes to be on the top, to have the left-brain working, directing the scene; it is a very masculine place to be in. I wanted to experience my full femininity with agostino; I craved the depth of sensation of simply falling and always being caught in strong hands.

I worked myself up to coming and have to admit the inherent awkwardness in trying to enjoy an orgasm and saying someone’s name at the same time. it is a powerful way of putting an intention into your sexual energy and dedicate it to your master.  In a way he, the master, becomes the deity that I worship. It is a living exchange of divinity if you so choose to revere this rare and unique dynamic between humans. Reverence, discipline, obedience; these are all things that the western mind rarely experiences. We are all rebels paving our own path, listening to no one, adhering to no doctrine, and worship is something that you may only do on Sundays. The correct bdsm exchange can be an avenue in which to experience the extraordinary invisible realms of our psyche, and when pushed far enough, to our divinity.

I take so much pleasure in other’s satisfaction, that it gives me satisfaction. It is a mutual symbiotic relationship into intensified bliss. The power of bdsm just polarizes reality even more-so than normal reality so that we can experience non-duality. So that we can come to this peaceful space within ourselves that we were never actually separate. That we are actually unified with all that is.