Trapped in the Closet

According to Wikipedia:

"'Trapped in the Closet' is a hip-hop opera released by R&B singer R. Kelly in the late summer and fall of 2005. The songs relate an ongoing narrative, which Kelly exploited by sending chapters to radio stations one at a time to generate interest. It has no chorus and is told in a conversational manner, using dramatics and cliffhangers between the episodes."

That series of songs is what popped into my mind earlier today when thinking back on last night. I slept in the closet. He said it was a "trial run" to see how I handled it. There was no lock on the doorknob, and my wrists cuffs weren't locked on. One was locked to a chain hanging down from the bar across the closet, but it wasn't locked onto my wrist. So I knew that if I got truly desperate, I could get out. He made me wear lingerie [this little number, in blueberry, if you must know ;)], and gave me permission to masturbate if I couldn't sleep and needed to pass the time ("tonight and only tonight," he said). He also blindfolded me and let me wear my iPod, so I couldn't see or hear if he was checking on me. That made masturbating kind of interesting... I never knew if he might be standing by, quietly watching me. Once I was settled in, he kissed me and left, closing the door after him. After that, I spent what seemed like ages trying to sleep, switching between trying to sleep, masturbating, and just tossing and turning. It could have been an hour, it could have been four. I lost all sense of time. I wasn't too bothered by being in there... I'm not claustrophobic, and our closet is pretty large anyway. He let me out when he went to work, and I had been dozing off and on for a while at least. I locked the door after him and crawled into a real bed, and slept soundly.

I think the whole thing would have had a bigger effect on me if I really were locked in. As it was, it was more a matter of I wouldn't get out, than I couldn't get out. I knew I could go out and take whatever punish would be given, if I felt desperate and couldn't get him to wake up. So I think it would effect me more if I was really locked in, unable to leave. And I think it would even more of an effect beyond that if it was used for a punishment. Being locked in and ignored.

But, as it was, I came out of there quiet. I didn't speak as I sat and waited for him to finish dressing and eating breakfast. I wasn't even really thinking. I felt kind of dazed. Maybe it was that floaty subspace that others talk about? It was definitely kind of a floaty feeling, lol. Hard to explain though...

Anyway, we had a couple of hours to ourselves on Saturday, and had fun... But I think I'm going to keep that memory to myself. A bamboo spatula got broken, I'll tell you that. ;-) And then last night I slept in the closet, and that was pretty much the extent to our weekend. Hope everyone else had a good weekend!

The Erotic Bakery

A while back a friend shared an incredible bakery with me. It's out of Seattle, Washington, though they do ship some items. The cost of their appetizing baked goods is hefty though, and once you add shipping, it's even worse. I can only hope that I'll end up living in or near Seattle one day. So, if you're ever in Seattle, check out The Erotic Bakery. But in the meantime, imagine, if you will, the excuses you could use to buy some of their yummies.

A plate of cookies for a bachelorette party.

A groom's cake for a less traditional wedding.

A birthday cake for a naughty girl.

Or a naughty boy!

Only speak when spoken to...

I was talkative when we went to bed last night. Saying a whole lot of nothing, if that makes sense to you. I had been talking for about 10 or 15 minutes when he rolled over and said, "I'll tell you what. You lay right there, and speak when spoken too." I nodded, too stunned to argue, or even to agree out loud. We are, after all, amatuers at this, and he was in essence telling me to shut up - something he'd never done before. Then he leaned over me and began to kiss me - my lips, my neck, my chest. And he bit and pulled at and pinched my nipples as he fingered me. When he bit my neck, I was about to come when he spoke. "Don't." Another first - the first time he'd ever told me not to orgasm. He slowed down, ran his free hand all over my body, and then stopped altogether and just stayed there, perfectly still, giving me a chance to control myself. I knew he was watching me, even though I had my eyes squinted shut, biting my lip, my hands fisted in the sheet, concentrating on not coming. Then, his voice in my ear, "Pleasure yourself." I rubbed my fingers against my clit, slowly. "Faster." I obeyed. A few minutes later, I was again ready to come. "Stop. Pleasure me." Again, I obeyed. My hand on his cock, rubbing, faster and faster. "Now, yourself again." Fingers on my clit, tiny circles, fast, hard as he fingered me. "Do. Not. Come." My fingers, now barely moving. He hadn't said I could quit, but I was sure I wouldn't be able to stop myself from coming if I rubbed any harder. His fingers though, unrelenting, moving in and out of me, fast and hard. My eyes squinted shut again, fighting against the wave of pleasure coursing through my body, holding it back. "Please..." My voice sounded hoarse. "Please let me come. Please. Please." I could hear the desperation in my own voice. "Please?" "No." "Please?" "No." "Pleeeease..." "NO. Roll over." I rolled onto my stomach, and he spanked my ass, hard with his bare hand, 8, 9, 10 times, as I fought not to come. "I told you only to speak when spoken to." When he was done, I rolled back over and bit my lip hard, using the pain as a reminder not to speak. He entered me slowly and I groaned, squeezing any muscles I could in a desperate attempt not to come. He rode me harder, and I pleaded to him with my eyes, still biting my lip, squeezing my stomach muscles tight, holding back as well as I could. He stopped, and just stayed perfectly still inside of me when he saw how desperate I was. I was grateful for the moments that he gave me to get control of myself. And then he pulled out and plunged inside of me again, over and over, harder, faster. Finally, when I thought there was no way I could stop it any more, he stroked my cheek with the backs of his fingers and said "Now." I must have come five or six times in a row as he rode me - I lost count. I committed his smug look to memory when I finally opened my eyes. We came together the last time, and then he rolled off of me onto his back on the bed. I rolled to him and snuggled against his side, my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. And I fell into a deep, quiet sleep.

Saw this...

Saw this in a few places and wanted to try it out. :)

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Peppermint

I’m the kinkier one. My husband, in an effort to see me happy, will do just about anything I ask. I told him I want to be his slave, so he’s trying his hardest to be a master. He does really well in most aspects. Until I cry. When I cry, he softens. I love it. I love knowing that he doesn’t want to truly hurt me. But it’s really going to have an effect on this whole Master/Slave relationship thing.

We’ve never used a safe word. Last night, he asked me to give him a word. He wanted a safe word, because I cried while I took my punishment spanking. He can’t stand to hurt me more than I can take, but he can’t tell where that fine line of what I can take and what’s too much is anymore. I relish in the tears, and he knows that, but he doesn’t know what to do.

Is it strange that I don’t feel safer with the safe word? I know I won’t use it, especially during a punishment spanking. I push myself too hard in a lot of aspects in life, and taking the pain he gives me is one of them. I know that in the moment, I’ll question myself. I’ll be thinking “If this were really more than I could take, I’d pass out from the pain. But I’m not, so I can take it.” I know the way I work. If a safe word will make him feel better, good. But now, deep in the back of my mind, I’m worried that he’s going to be ruthless. It’s going to be more than it’s ever been before, because he can feel comfortable that I'll say "Peppermint..." if it's too much. But I'm pretty sure I never will...

I had worked up to 32 licks. I thought I was at 31, so he increased it to 33 when I gave him the wrong. 33 licks. The belt, the bamboo spoons. It was more than 33 though, because the way he had me bound, I was having to sit on my knees with my feet under my butt. He kept catching my heels with the belt, so only half of the belt would hit. But it still hurt. BAD. Haha. But, he wouldn’t let them count, so I wound up with extras. About the fifth time he did that, I got frustrated. The tears came to my eyes, and I told him that I wished he would stop that. “Oh you do, do you?” Uh-oh. I explained that it still hurt and I felt like I was being punished with more than the licks I had racked up because I kept having to take 1 ½. So he let my comment slide, and put the belt away in favor of the spoons. Boy do they hurt, but at least he wasn’t missing with them. I was already teared up from belt problem when he let out five or ten hits with one of the spoons in rapid succession. I was supposed to be counting, backward at that, and I couldn’t keep up. I let out a sob and the tears started streaming as I looked over my shoulder at him and exclaimed that I couldn’t keep up. Anyone who didn’t know him wouldn’t have caught the look in eyes, the way the softened. The way his shoulders slumped. But I did. I knew he was having a hard time with this, feeling like he was hurting me. I straightened my back, stopped the tears, and nodded slightly. I took the rest of my licks as bravely as I could. I feel bad that he has those moments of “Is this more than she wanted?” I feel like it’s my fault. But am I not supposed to be giving that up? The guilt, the thinking anything is my fault? He wouldn’t do it if he didn’t want too, even if I did start this. But it still bothers me to know he has those moments of uncertainty.

The rest of the night went off without a hitch, after I assured him I was okay. I felt beautiful as I smiled at him with tears streaming down my face…

Feeling Submissive

Though we’ve been working on an M/S relationship for several weeks, yesterday afternoon and last night are the first times I’ve felt submissive right down to the core. I think the collar is having a definite effect on my submission. Feeling it heavy around my neck at all times is certainly a reminder of what I am now.

Yesterday afternoon, my husband was getting ready to go into work and as he stood up I reached out and playfully smacked his ass. He looked at me for a moment, and I immediately recoiled into my spot on the bed, pulling the blanket to my chin and studying the pattern on it carefully. “I know you did not just do that.” I looked up at him, trying to make my eyes pleading. He stood and headed toward the closet. “I’ll take care of that later.” Then he turned on his heel and headed back across the room. “No. I’ll take care of that now.” And he opened the toy trunk and started digging for implements. I had to use the bathroom desperately, but had been waiting so I could lie on the bed next to him for a while. “Can I go to the bathroom first?” I asked him. “You have about 30 seconds.” he said, as he closed the trunk empty-handed and glanced around the room. I stood quickly and rushed to the bathroom, anxious the whole time. When I returned to the bedroom, he was standing at the end of the bed, holding the thick, stiff leather belt. As I walked up to him, still wearing nothing but a pair of panties since we had been curled up in bed, he watched me. I searched his face, looking for some sign that he would go easy on me. But, not finding it, I didn’t speak, just kissed him lightly on the lips before bending over the end of the bed. I felt his hand gently brushing the small of my back, ready to push me down in case I stood to argue. I didn’t. It was the first time I didn’t argue a spanking at all, even playfully. He ran his fingers across my back, and then informed me that I would count. He had never made me count before. I nodded, clenching the blanket in my fists, waiting. Thwap! “One.” “LOUDER.” Thwap! “Two!” And so it continued. Seven barely connected, he had lost his grip on the belt. “That didn’t count.” he said, after I’d counted it, as he readjusted the belt in his hands. For some reason, his comment didn’t quite reach my brain. Thwap! “Eight!” between gasps. “I said that one didn’t count.” came his low grumble. “Seven! Seven. Seven.” Thwap! “Eight!” Ten licks, not counting the one that barely connected. Then he was done. He dropped his belt on the bed and I stood and wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest. For a moment, he was just my husband again, not trying to be my master, as he asked if I was okay. I nodded my head and smiled up at him, almost shyly, still trying to catch my breath. And then he was my master again, kissing me roughly, pushing me down hard onto the bed on my back, pulling my panties off and plunging his fingers deep inside of me, harder, harder. My back was arched slightly, the muscles in my stomach clenched, my long hair all over the place, as he leaned across me, fingers still working inside of me, and kissed me hard. And then he was across me on the bed, entering me. Too soon, he stood and began to dress for work, leaving me curled on the bed, blanket pulled to my chest, as I watched him. Then he was gone, off to work, with only promises of something to come after he got home.

Later, when he got home, we crawled into bed. We cuddled for a while, and then he propped himself up on the pillows. I laid between his legs to give him oral pleasure. I loved the feeling of his hands tangled in my hair, putting slight pressure on my head whenever I tried to pull away to gulp air. After a few minutes he pulled my head up by my hair. When I was far enough off the bed, he released my hair and grabbed my breasts tight, pulling me by them until I was up on my knees in front of him. He squeezed them and then released and pushed his fingers inside of me. I struggled to keep my balance, but soon he was positioning himself under me, pushing himself inside of me. I began to pump my hips. I leaned closer to him, but he grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled it back, forcing me to sit up. Then he reached up with his other hand and grabbed my collar, pulling it forward and my hair back, forcing me to move only my hips. Soon he let go of my hair and the front of my collar and wrapped the chain around his hand in the back, successfully pulling my head back and keeping it up at the same time. As the chain cut into my airway I could do nothing but focus on moving my hips and taking short, shallow breaths. Soon he let go of the collar completely, settling that hand on the back of my neck to keep my head in position, and closed his other hand over my throat, cutting my air supply off again after just a few gulps of air. A few minutes later he changed position again, pulling the collar down my back, holding it tight with his fingers and pushing against my back with the heel of his hand. This time he held it longer, cutting off my air until I could barely concentrate on breathing in what little air I could get. I started to get dizzy and when he let go of the collar I gulped in air, ending the dizziness. He reached around and grabbed my nipples, pinching them tight between his fingers and pulling them toward him. I gasped and moaned, leaning into his grasp, trying to alleviate the pain, but he pinched tighter, warning me not to slide off of him. He pinched, pulled and twisted my nipples until I screamed out and pulled my breasts away, dropping against his chest, my face buried in his neck, with a few sobs before I got control of myself. Then I carefully positioned myself back on him, sat up, pushed my hair out of my face, and began to pump my hips again. He studied my face, and I could tell he was judging whether I was alright. “I’m fine, I’m okay.” I assured him. He nodded slightly, and then reached up and cupped my breasts in his hands, squeezing them tightly, pulling me toward him by them. “Accept the pain.” he whispered. I nodded and continued to pump against him, biting my lip. He released my breasts and I gasped as the blood flowed freely through them again. He pinched my nipples again, not quite as hard as before. He pulled them to him and bit one, hard, and then the other, as he came inside of me. When he released my nipples and closed his eyes, I collapsed beside him, curled into his side, my head on his chest, smiling contentedly.

I had accepted the pain. Worse pain than he had ever given me before. That afternoon, I had accepted a spanking without so much as a word to try and convince him not to give it. And I had accepted whatever pleasure he wished to give me, and given him the pleasure he wanted from me. For the first time, I felt like I am truly on my way to submission.

But there are still miles to go.

The Beginning

I’ve been wanting to start a blog about my life with my husband, as we enter into a more dominant/submissive relationship. I hesitate to call us master and slave yet, as I know there is much to be achieved in our lifestyle before we reach that point in my mind, but I want to document the journey. Now is as good a time as any to begin. As much as I’ve wanted to start this blog, I’ve been procrastinating about it, since introductions have always been my weakness in writing. I never know how to begin. So I suppose I’ll begin by just telling you about us.

He is, for now, to be called my husband. I asked him for a title, such as Sir or Master, to call him by. He told me that would come with time, but he’s yet to decide what he wants to be called, so it will be a little while yet. So he is my husband. We have been married for five years, dating for a year prior to our marriage.

I’ve been into bondage for as long as I can remember. When I was a little girl, I would imagine being kidnapped, and I would tie my Barbie dolls up. When I was a teen, there were rape fantasies, mixed with the occasional kidnapping and repeated raping. After my husband and I started having sex, I started to try and let him on my kinks without shocking him too much. The first step was handing him a bandana and asking him to blindfold me. Another time, I asked him to pin my hands above my head. Eventually, I asked him to use a length of ribbon I had in my room to tie my wrists together. After a while, he was using rope to tie me down, blindfolding and gagging me. I was completely in my element. There was no spanking, in the beginning. Then, occasionally, a smack on the ass during sex. At some point, he purchased a thin wooden birthday paddle from Spencer’s Gifts, and began to use that on occasion.

We’ve come a long way now. We have a trunk filled on one side with lingerie. The other half has a rabbit vibrator, a pair of leather locking wrist cuffs with matching ankle cuffs and collar, two metal spreader bars, two homemade wooden spreader bars, a set of bamboo “tools” as the package called them (cooking utensils, a spoon, a spoon with holes in it - the term escapes me, and a spatula with holes in it, all made of heavy bamboo), several lengths of rope and chain, lots of small Master padlocks, a set of anal plugs in three sizes, a pair of tweezer-style nipple clamps with bells on the end, and a variety of lubes and massage oils, plus other odds and ends that I’m sure I’m forgetting. There are also three belts of varying intensity, which don’t reside in the trunk - the heaviest of which, its leather still stiff since it’s only a month old and has rarely been used, I took 10 licks from as I leaned over the end of the bed before he left for work today.

It’s only been three or four weeks since I told my husband I’d like to pursue a master/slave relationship. Some noticeable changes have taken place. The counting, for one. He counts infractions - whatever he chooses to count as one, which can change from day to day, though I generally know what will be counted - as licks. The infraction determines the number of licks, and he keeps a mental note of how many licks I’m at from one punishment session to the next. I never know which implement will be used for punishments. Though he’s talked of buying a punishment paddle, he hasn’t yet. My to-do list is another change. I’m a horrible procrastinator when it comes to cleaning, and I’m also not very good at taking care of myself in certain aspects. I rarely eat breakfast, never drink milk or water, and always forget my vitamins. So along with cleaning that needs to be done, those things are on my to-do list every day. I get licks added to my punishment for anything that isn’t finished at the end of the day. I have to print out the lists for the following week on Saturday nights, so he can look them over and make sure I’m not slacking off or working too hard. Another visible change is the collar around my neck. It’s eventually going to be used only when we’re visiting family and friends, to avoid questions, and I’ll have a Turian style collar for home. But for now I wear a thick shiny silver chain, connected in the front by a beautiful silver heart-shaped padlock.

There is more to say, but this is getting quite long enough, so I believe I’ll end here for now. There will be more later, I’m sure. While I do hope that this blog becomes somewhat well-known in the BDSM circles, I don’t really expect it to. We are just beginning after all, and I’m definitely an amateur when it comes to this lifestyle. I don’t really expect to have much remarkable to say, though I do hope to surprise myself as time goes on. Despite all that, if you wish to read as my journey goes on, please do. I’d be thrilled to have readers and comments as I mull over my thoughts and feelings.

-HeartShapedPadlock

P.S. For anyone who might be interested, the picture is my collar, and here is where we purchased it.