Bacon Tattoo?

Did everyone have a fabulous New Years Eve? I did. Started with getting all dressed up, and going out to dinner at a fancy restaurant with Master and his family. Delicious food (gnocchi verde...fucking yum), and excellent company. After dinner, we had to change before going to a New Years party at a local bar to see a local band, so we stopped at Master's parent's place. Of course, being the sexual beings we are, things got a little, um, shall we say heated, in the car. Master and I both have a fascination with the 1950s and pin-ups and cars and everything, and I happened to be wearing a 50s style, black, low cut dress, with pearl necklace and earrings, black pantyhose, with my hair done up like Marilyn Monroe, with just a trace of the red lace bra I was wearing peeking out from the top of the dress, and a leather jacket. Needless to say, Master didn't need much persuasion form me, but I like to tease, so I played it up the entire drive to the house, biting my finger, and batting my lashes, the whole nine yards. When we pulled into the driveway, Master was in full Dominant mode, and told me to carry the left over food into the house. I graciously did as I was told, while still playing it up and sashaying the entire way in my black pumps. Master told me to take off my jacket and sweater, and to follow him.

When we got to the stairs, Master made me walk ahead of him. I took the opportunity to use my assets to their full advantage, swaying my hips and sticking my ass out. Needless to say, this got Master's undivided attention, and he rewarded me with a swift slap on both ass cheeks to hurry me along. Once in his room, Master told me to undress him. He helped along the way, but had me fold and hang his suit on the hanger. Once Master was completely undressed, I asked permission to undress as well. He conceded, and helped me out of my dress, and smirked as he watched me struggle out of my pantyhose, bra, and panties. Once I was completely naked except for the pearls at my throat, Master commanded me to drop to me knees and suck him off. I gladly did what I was told. You see, some women don't like giving blowjobs, but I find that with my Master I honestly enjoy it. It makes me feel powerful that I can do that to the man that is in control of me. I enjoy his taste and smell, and the look in his eyes when I look up at him from my knees with his magnificent cock in my mouth. I sucked and sucked, and then before he came, Master ordered me to stop and stand, bent over the bed. I did as I was told, knowing what was coming. He picked up a plastic hanger from the floor, and asked if I was ready. I replied "Yes, Sir", and he made the first swing, followed swiftly by a second and third. He was not holding back, and although it hurt to the point that it took my breath away, I loved it. Master then caressed my stinging ass cheek with the hanger and told me that if I took one more good hard stroke, he would fuck me like I wanted. I replied, "If it would please you, Sir" and braced myself for the final blow. Although I could tell that the last strike was harder than the others combined, I didn't feel as much pain because of the beautiful anticipation of what came next. Master threw down the now broken hanger, and impaled me with his amazingly large hard cock. Over and over again he drove it into me, as he caressed my now bleeding ass cheek. When Master was close to cumming, he yanked me down to my knees so that he could blow his load in my mouth like he likes it. So delicious, and all mine. When he finished, he continued to fuck me until he rewarded me with two orgasms for my endurance with the hanger. When we both finished, my kind hearted Master took me to the bathroom and stroked my bleeding welts with a cool wet cloth and kissed my shoulders and neck, and told me how much he loved me and what a good girl I was. He felt really badly about making me bleed, and was very attentive and apologetic for the rest of the evening. I was really fine, and honestly enjoyed having a mark from my Master. Almost like a brand that I am his and he is mine.

You see, my Master is not a 24/7 dominant, and I am not his 24/7 slave. We both have two sides to ourselves that we both love and enjoy. We are the kinky fucked up Master and slave, and also two very kind caring individuals that love each other very much. We pick on each other, and act like goofballs together. We are each others best friends. I feel like I need to make this clear so that none of you are thinking that this is, in any way, an abusive relationship. It's not. We are both consenting adults in every aspect of our relationship, and we have safe words in place that are to be used if one of us goes too far. We love each other completely, and respect each other, and trust each other enough to have a healthy conventional relationship, and a healthy BDSM relationship.

The rest of our evening was spent driving around, walking through Walmart, eating at Denny's, and just talking and enjoying each others company. When Master dropped me off at home, I had him check my bruised ass. He was astounded that the bruise was as big as it was, and again felt bad for it. I told him that I actually do like having his mark on my body, and he seemed to be ok with it. Now, to explain the "bacon tattoo" title to this post. This morning, I again checked the progress of the bruise, and to my surprise and chagrin, each welt looked literally like a tattoo of a piece of bacon. The stripes of blue and red and black look exactly like a cooked piece of bacon. I sent Master a picture of it, and we both had a good laugh from it. Since I know you're reading this Master, my bacon ass is a little sore, but that's all :) I'll talk to you later, Master, and I'll talk to the rest of you in my next post.

Peace, Love, and Pain,
Slave 

Do you hate your family?

Just some humor to get you through the holidays with your family without killing someone. :) Enjoy!!

Tattoo?

This is my next tattoo, drawn by me. Not very good, but it gets the point across to the artist.

The Supression of Freak

Did everyone have a nice end of the world? I did. New leather jacket, saw a local band play at a local dive bar, danced the night away with Master, two hand print bruises on my ass, I'd say a successful dooms-day.

So back to the beginning....
My first boyfriend. Picture a tall, skinny, translucently pale, ginger guy. My friends used to call him "fire crotch" because of the ginger fuzz everywhere on his body. Basically, a dweeb through and through. He was my first for everything. First kiss, first love (yes I did love him), first fuck, the works. He was the most kind hearted person you'll ever meet....and that's about it. He was as simple, and uncomplicated as they come. He despised any kind of conflict, so everything was, "Oh I'm sorry, I'll change" or "You're right, I shouldn't have done that". Now, some people might be thinking, "Well isn't that the perfect guy, always telling you you're right?" Well let me tell you...it fucking sucks. Imagine trying to have a conversation about your interests and mentioning a band you like and getting "I've never heard of them, but I'm sure I'll like them if you do" in response. For everything. All the time. It was cute for about a week. Then I started picking fights over stupid shit just to get him to show some kind of emotion whatsoever. Anything. He was passionate about nothing. He didn't strive for greatness, he settled for mediocre. Basically, I wore the pants in the relationship.

For FIVE FUCKING YEARS I put up with this. I swear I should be canonized as a saint. The sex was horrible. He couldn't make me orgasm. Not once in five years. I faked every single one. For five years. Did I mention that it was for five years? FUCK! I tried to get him to go along with my kinky tastes, but he just about had a heart attack when I asked him to choke me and finger my asshole. So for five years, the freak in me was rattling her cage. Screaming and clawing trying to get out, but Captain Vanilla Sex wouldn't have anything to do with it.

To this day, I don't know what happened, but something snapped in me and I couldn't take it anymore. I ended it with him. Broke his heart and mine. Like I said, I did love him. First love, took my virginity and all that jazz, but I ended it. It was honestly the most healthy decision I've ever made for myself. Not gonna lie, it hurt like hell to see him hurt like that, but I knew it was the best for both of us. We would never work. I started the recovery process by joining a dating website. I know, probably not the most logical choice, but I was curious to see what else was out there. I was completely honest about myself on my profile. I said that I had a "dark side" that wasn't going to change, so if you didn't like it, move on. The first guy to notice my profile was to be my Master. I didn't know it at the time, but I would end up falling madly in love with him. He was cute, but quite honestly, nothing about him stood out to me. He was nice, and we talked online a few times, when I got fed up with it, and asked him to play 20 questions. The first bunch were generic, boring questions like favorite bands, movies, foods, etc. The last one was "What is your deepest darkest secret". I honestly didn't think he would respond to that one, and as expected, he didn't at first. He said he didn't really have one, and then asked me the same question. So, I said to myself, you know what the hell. I've got nothing to lose. I told him that I was into some kinky shit, and his response was something along the lines of "Please, please tell me what you mean by kinky". I listed a whole slew of things that would have any vanilla guy running for the hills. He responded with a list of his own likes that happened to be just as kinky, if not kinkier than mine. That's when I got interested. I asked him jokingly if he'd been reading 50 Shades, and I laughed at him. Yes, Master, if you are reading this, I admit it. I laughed at you. But only because I didn't think there was anyone else out there that was like me. I had lost hope. Master changed that.

We started texting each other, and the more we talked, the more I realized that we had more in common than is normal for two people. We were literally like the opposite sex version of each other. We started talking about what we wanted out of each other, and he mentioned that he was not ready for a real relationship, but he mentioned that he wanted to try and be friends with benefits. I decided to give it a try. It can't hurt, right? Well we made plans to meet one Saturday, and by Thursday, I had cold feet. I realized that already I had feelings for this man that I hadn't even met yet. I knew that if we had sex, I would want more, and he couldn't give that to me. I told him this, and he agreed. I believe it was close to three weeks that we didn't speak to each other, but I thought about him every day. I couldn't get him out of my mind. In those three weeks I had two one night stands. Both were horrible, as I'm sure most one night stands are, but I'm a very sexual person, and I wanted it. Then, I noticed that Master had viewed my profile on the dating site three times. When I saw his name there, I had this odd sensation of contentment. Like I knew everything was going to be ok. I texted him and joking said "I see you're stalking my profile again". We hit it off just like the first time, and decided to just be friends and see where things went. During this time I had two more flings. The last one, with an asshole that ended up trying to force me to give him a blowjob. Luckily I was able to get him off of me and out of my apartment, but it really shook me up. When I told Master about this incident, I think something snapped in his head. I think he realized then that he wanted to be more than friends. I've never seen someone so mad. I know that if he was near me when that happened, he would have killed that guy.

He still didn't want a relationship, but we were exclusive. I didn't want to see anyone else, and I didn't want him to see anyone else. Yet another cliff hanger. Sorry guys, but when master requests slave's presence for punishment, slave does not say no. ;)

Peace, Love, and Pain,
Slave

A little humor for your Saturday morning :)

Are you a freak like me?

Hey all,
I'm Ann. First of all, this blog is about my life as a submissive. Yes, as in dom/sub, BDSM, bondage, kinky sex type of submissive. If this will offend you, don't read it. Plain and simple. I know that my lifestyle isn't for everyone, and it isn't for the faint of heart, so I wont get my feelings hurt if you decide to skip this blog. Oh and I swear a lot too, so youngins, conservatives, and tight laced types of the world beware. There's my own personal warning label. If you decide to keep reading and find something repulsively offensive, well, I don't fucking care. I told you so.

For those of you who are brave enough to dive headfirst into the painful, lustful, nasty, pleasurable,  deliciously fucked up world of bdsm, you're in for a treat. Whether you are a hard core fan, have experimented with a little bondage, or are a vanilla newcomer that read 50 Shades of Grey and are curious about this lifestyle, I hope you enjoy.

My interest in bdsm started as a realization that with immense pain comes unbelievable pleasure. Nay sayers don't understand that the pain and pleasure are not intertwined directly. The pain does not cause the pleasure, but the pain cleanses your senses so that when the pleasurable experience is given to you, it exceeds any expectation you ever have. It's like when you get in a fight with someone and you just cry and scream and get so mad you can't even speak, but after you calm down, there's a serenity that you don't normally feel when you don't cry. It's the same concept. You can have an orgasm without pain, but imagine that the pain of the whip or the cane or what have you is like the crying. It's a release of everything into one pure feeling. After that pain is over and you experience an orgasm, it is mind blowing. There are no words to describe it. It's just the most pure, unspoiled pleasure possible, and it's like a drug. You always want more. That's how it started for me. I broke my leg, and had my first orgasm in the same day. The single most agonizing moment of my life, right before the most pleasurable. I'll admit, it took me years to put the two together, but I found myself pulling my own hair, or brutally pinching my own nipples when I would pleasure myself. Soon, I was researching if this was normal behavior (I didn't dare ask my parents for obvious reasons), and I found that there is an entire world out there for people that enjoy this kind of thing. So, I kept doing it, until I got my first boyfriend. More on that fiasco tomorrow. Right now, I've got to go meet my current boyfriend (also known as my master or my dom) at the mall. He's buying me a leather jacket :)

Peace, Love, and Pain,
Ann