A Sir desires

The touch of your skin is a translation of affection expressed through the medium of nerve endings
Endeavoring to awaken in you a fire which cannot be quenched
To know with a glance
Sure hands over soft skin
Eager lips made slow
Pressing lips like vise over artery
Tasting jumping pulse
Struggling to gasp breathe to synapse
Breathe deeply in ragged flame
Gifts given
Ignite fires
Kindled deep in bones
Leather and pulse pain
Bruises marking mine
Say ready
Say more
Say yes
I would have you in all the ways of imagining
Of experience and of desire
Not once, not twice
Until yield and sleep
But waking
Join in grip of heart
Allow me to wake your fire
Consume me as I consume you
Taking nothing for granted
Allow passion to rewrite your stars

Nightmares are also dreams part 9

I slap the belt down. The clap of leather to flesh and the soft reverberation through the room of Sara biting back a scream, wipes away the solace of sex in the morning.

I lay the belt on the side table where Sara can see it. The tiny pinprick barbs glisten with blood. Fresh juice for beginning.

I walk over to the play linen closet and pick out the white leather bed cover.

“Sara,” I say, “Get up and replace the sheets with the leather cover. For every drop of blood on our sheets, you will get a punishment.”

Sara looks like she wants to argue. Probably because there is already blood from earlier. But that just illustrates the point of this demonstration. She wants to be subjugated but wants it all her way too. She knows that’s not going to work.

Still, she says, “Yes, Sir.” And starts changing the sheets.

I pull out the blindfold, leg and wrist shackles from the play drawer. And stand back to watch the drama as she tries not to get blood on the sheets and fails.
This is hard for me. To sit back and watch her nude and carrying out orders. She flashes me each time she bends, entirety unintentional. And each time I fight to stop myself from pushing her down and taking her.

The feel of her splayed beneath me. Fighting for breathe, taking her, seeing her fight, then gasping for air.

But, not yet. For now, she is spread out, putting the last corner in place.

When I’m sure it’s solid, I grab her ankle and pull her scrambling to the foot of the bed.

“Shackle each leg. Then hook the shackle to its post.”

The first goes on easy but the second is harder and she strains to get her leg to the post hook.

After straining and stretching, throwing her leg to the post, and spread painfully wide, she looks up at me.
Triumphant.

Face blank, I bring my hand up and give her a little golf clap.

“Congratulations, little Slut. You can spread your legs.”

Her face indignant, I lean over and slap her cheek.
“I’m going to make you wish you never said yes to me, you little whore.”

I grab her wrist and drag her so that she’s pulled taught to the edge of the bed. Then shackle her wrist and chain each to their posts.

She’s spread eagle and spots of blood dot the leather. Her green eyes look up at me, filled with need.
I pull out the peeled ginger root I’d been concealing.

Her eyes go wide and she whimpers, “Please, no…”
I feel myself tighten at her fear and lean over her, “What will you do for me if I don’t”

“Anything, anything, ” she pleads.

“Anything…,”I ask.

“Yes, yes, please… please… anything.”

“Well…,” I say, “If it’s anything, then what I want is your pain.”

She bites her lip and nods, clearly thinking she’s getting some other kind of pain.
But no.

I lean down and feel the sloppy wet of her pussy. I push the ginger root in. It’s shape pressing against her lips. The bulb root end is pierced with a brace so that I can’t slip inside all the way.

“There. All good. Happy that you could please me?,” I ask.

The sharp gasps of “Yes, sir.” As the burning begins.

“Good, my little Slut. Now, you don’t need to see what’s happening anymore, tied up like you are.”

I strap the blindfold on. Consigning her to sound and pain. For now.

I need to check on Tara.

Nightmares are also dreams, part 7

I emerge from the steam of the bathroom and see Tara moving under the covers. It seems that my girls are happy and who doesn’t like that. But Tara has a appointment to keep, so much as I would like to let this continue, I’ll likely need to cut it short. However, I can give them a few minutes.

I walk around the bed, past the side table, and into the walk in closet. The gunmetal tie, the black jacket and black pants are quickly selected and placed on the dressing rack. Now for what Tara will wear…a harder choice. I want her to look fierce yet sexy, to really show her how far I think she has come. I stand looking over the choices. I’m unsure of how best to demonstrate her progress. Then it hits me, something that is in counterpoint to what Jen and the other guards will wear. I find the pale peach jacket with matching peach pinstriped pants. Both cut to fit and with plenty of pocket space. She needs the room to be able to store her blade AND have her hands free should she need to use it. For the shirt, a plain white silk, and a peach pocket square….and suspenders with little pictures of mice and bowls of milk. For shoes…I think the dyed to match suede low heeled boots. Peach is such a hard color to match but it’s Tara’s favorite. But if one piece is peach, generally all have to be.

I can hear the moans drifting in from the bedroom. It sounds like Sara is minutes away from orgasm. And that just won’t do.

I pop out of the closet and say, “Tara, dear, it’s time for your shower…Jen will be by in an hour to take you shopping and you must be ready.”

I hear a muffled response and walk to see what is happening. “Sara, release Tara… Please.”

Sara let’s go of the double handful of Tara’s locks and cranes her own head back to look at me. I can read the frustration on her face telling me that I stopped this just in time. Hell, astronauts on the ISS can probably read that expression. I just beam a smile at my very frustrated wife and waggle my fingers at her.

Tara slides off the bed and walks into the bathroom. She knows better than to step into the middle of this.

“Pel, what the fuck,” Sara asks, exasperation and frustration dripping off her tongue.

I let my face go cold and look her in eyes that have deepened to the color of a sea in storm. Her eyes telling me just how pissed she is.

I watch as the color bleeds out from storm to pale sky. She sees my normally active face go cold and still.

I walk to the bed and grab her arm, pulling her out of the illusion of safety and let her drop onto the hardwood. Stalking around her shocked body, I lean down and say, “Listen, little whore. You are mine to do with as I please. You don’t get a orgasm until I say you do.”

Sara shivers then goes still, sensing the direction Pel is taking her. Her soft reply of, “Yes, Sir,” is all but lost under the sound of the belt snapping sharp against her exposed buttocks.

It begins.

Nightmares are also dreams, A Pel and Sara story: part 4

The reality is, this ring is hidden. They’ve existed in a city where I have been hunting. Existed and thrived. They’ve raped, broken, and sold people. We have no evidence that their depravity extends to women alone. There could be men or others.

The hell of it is, nothing they’ve done is outside of what some consider play. Edge play to be sure, but still play. And, if I’m being honest, the monster in me saw the videos and was excited. Aroused even. Ideas I’d normally take home and propose to my Sara as a good time.

Of course, if it was just play, I wouldn’t be doing this. But they take without consent, they push past the red line and past safe words and break their toys. They Enslave them for real. And something dark in me smiles at the thought. And perhaps this is part of why I loathe them. My life is made up of trying to control the darker desires. Channel them into acceptable ways, if just barely. And these people are breaking these women. Girls, just discovering who they are, and taking away their choices. Without consent.

And that alone condemns them to death. But as I said, they have operated under my nose for years. Maybe I just didn’t want to see. Maybe I was too consumed by my small group of curated friends. Maybe I don’t seem like enough of a misogynistic bastard to fit in with their crowd.

I contemplate all of this as Jen drives me home. Outside the cool black leather the harsh desert air shimmers the asphalt. I go home to my girls. No progress made. Not really. We are still trying to find a way in.

And I’m feeling frustrated in more than one way. After these days, I won’t say we haven’t played but it’s all been so relatively tender. Paddles and clips as far as we go. I know Sara is feeling it too. Tomorrow, I will have Jen escort Tara shopping. Tomorrow, Sara and I will unleash. It’s been too long. I ache for her screaming. For her tears. I need to see her fear and lust.

Make no mistake, I love Tara. I love the tenderness and the gentleness of having a pet. Taking care of her is a pleasure and a joy. But, I also love my wife. And we are compatible beyond the bedroom and beyond the rules. But…she needs play time, too. And her play is pain. And as much humiliation and depravity as I can muster.

I have so many ideas. We’ll see how many we make it through before our Tara returns.

Journeys begin and continue only with consent

You say you’re innocent
While you fumble manipulation
While you look for my attention
Saying your naive
Knowing that makes me want to protect you
Protect you and take you
Waiting on that yes
Waiting for you to speak
I’m just the freak
Waiting on consent
Before our carnival of sins begins
Yes
I want this
Build
Creative structure
Of pain and pleasure
Until all is undone
Until I’m satisfied
Never
Always wanting more
That next step
That next depravity
At the edge of your desires and back again
Watching your ecstasy
Your whimpers
Your tears
Kiss them away
Each new innocence
Each new horizon
Together
Say yes
I want this
Turn the key
Open the doors
One step away
We’ll start slow
Consent
Or
Good morning, how are you?
Only the gentleman
Only the kind Sir
You’ll never see the barbed wire
Unless you desire
And say
Yes

Declarations(NSFW thoughts)

Just because I love you and want all the good things for you doesn’t mean that when you give consent that I won’t brutalize you. That I won’t whip you, hurt you. That I won’t fuck you with my hands, mouth, cock and toys. That I won’t make you scream in pain and pleasure. That after I’m spent and can’t use you anymore, that I won’t tie you up and set toys in you, on you, to keep you cumming because I like to see you this way. That you won’t crawl and obey.

I love you. I see all of you. I know that you crave the darkness. And though it may seem otherwise. That my praise and heart felt love may make you feel like I am not up to your needs, you are wrong. I just choose to be more than one thing.

I can be the kind and loving partner. The stern and commanding caretaker/Daddy. And the hardcore sadist. I have many sides. But I will always be yours. Your Sir. Yours as you are mine.

Let who you are free into the light

I hate keeping secrets. Even lies by omission hurt.

I spent a portion of my youth on secrets. On lies. It almost killed me. It came close. At the end, all I had was money, scars, and grey hair. The money is gone. The scars are mostly faded. The grey hair stayed. And a deep abiding pain that accompanies lies.

I spent years clawing out of various closets. Sexuality, society, BDSM. And at the end of it, I found peace.

But still people want me to hide. To be discreet. To say it’s no one’s business but ours.

But let me tell you. It may be no one’s business but ours, but it’s on them to turn their heads. Hiding is lying. Discretion is fine, but it should not stop a kiss or a hug or holding hands. If it does then that’s fear.

Just because I can hide or lie; Because I practiced for years, doesn’t mean I enjoy it. I loathe it.

I understand why hiding may be necessary. If life or liberty is on the line. But if not? It’s not worth the cost.

And sometimes, even life and liberty are not enough. We should be who we are. Shout it from the rooftops. And to those that would silence us, let them reap the consequences. Let them fear.

I said I didn’t like lying. I didn’t say I’d forgotten my past.

Internal speculation/Bdsm thoughts

I find it interesting that there is a dichotomy of perception about me. Those who know me at a surface level get someone forceful, sardonic, and cynical. Go a bit deeper and they see wisdom and darkness. Deeper still and they see care. But that’s all they will ever see. All I’ll let them see.

Now, at the opposite spectrum, those who know me deeply get someone kind, loving, and romantic. Go a bit deeper and they see damage and darkness. Go deeper still and they might see hope and wisdom.

But there are a third category of people who get all of me. My true friends and those I consider mine. You get all of me. For good or for ill. I can be any part of my personality at need or all of it depending. But what really intrigues me is the person who can get me to switch from the normal day to day into her Sir.

Her need is like flicking a switch and whatever crap is in my head goes away so that I can take care of her needs. Orders. Ideas. Even just seeing herself through my eyes. All of it in service to her elevation. She obeys. And when she does, when she trusts me to make her better, I become better. Everyone wants to make D/s about sex. There is some of that. But it’s like saying that music is only major chords. It’s ridiculous and eventually, boring.

I know that the physical aspects are exciting in concept. Sometimes in execution. But I’ve never enacted a physical interaction with the intention that it just be physical. There is Always a point, a goal, a lesson. And physical punishment is not really the point. Negative reinforcement is less useful than positive. Pain is more about the expiation of guilt and negative emotions, paying a physical consequence for a mental action or lapse.

Punishment is not about the pain itself. It’s a tool. And like all tools it must be applied only in the circumstances that it is most useful in. And I will often use tasks as punishment rather than the physical. Or in tandem with a physical but only as reinforcement, not as the primary point. Which isn’t to say that there are no floggings, spankings, or other such activities, just that those are mostly for pleasure not as a part of 24/7 D/s.

Only truth, always truth

I provide certainty
Because I am certain

I provide commands
Because through order
You are safe

I provide discipline
Because through punishment
Are sins expiated

These are the things that people see
But, while important, these things are merely surface
They are the barest glimpse of what we are

You are mine
I am yours
Always by your side
A whisper in your ear
A kiss on your lips
A conversation
A song
Every word a truth

I wake to thoughts of you
I sleep to thoughts of you
Every step is a step forward
To you

My rightful prey

Mark my passage by firelight
Soft footsteps in the shallow dark
Near you, always near you
Barriers fall in blood wave rivulets
Marred surface married to perfect heart
Presence felt as pressure
Soft leather binds
Flickering light casts shadows
Twist, attempts to flight, impossible
Heat pounds past glowing coals
Sharp lash and line of fire
Fear runs down to the mind
Buried
Safe in the knowledge of my love