Homecoming... a story

He reached for his pocket knife. A sharp Buck folding Hunter. With one swift motion he cut away her top, actually feeling great satisfaction in destroying it, as smooth sensitive naked skin was uncovered and revealed. Tomorrow he would tell her to go to the store and purchase the same item. But today, it needed to be sacrificed off her body. He threw the shreds of the garmet to the side, marveling the beautiful naked breasts now in his sight. Quickly, he did a similar job with her shorts, cutting through her panties as well and throwing all the unneeded clothing away. He was rewarded with her utterly splayed lower region, her exposed pussy spread out inches away from his face. She was completely naked now without a single item of clothing on her.

She squirmed a little almost involuntarily. He still didn't talk to her, but used this time to grab a few pillows and adjust them beneath her back in a way that arched it and displayed her beautifully.

He stared at her that way for a short while, deriving incredible pleasure from such visual use of her. He felt very much relieved once he released his screaming cock from its constraining bulge behind his pants. He stroked it lightly, shivering from the sensation as he looked upon his beautifully sprawled out love-toy. She lifted her head at that moment, trying to figure out what was going on, and he angrily yanked her back by her long hair. He had not yet taught her that it was not her place to be curious or question or irritate him in any way at such times. It was time for her use, and nothing more. Her only duty was to willingly anticipate his every whim during that time and strive her darndest to fit to him, like his fine custom-tuned instrument. But he forgave her ignorance for now, not doubting that with time she would become nothing short of the perfect slave.

He finally placed the head of his cock at her entrance, shaking it slightly to part her soft labia. Her wetness greeted him, as she parted for his cock, completely ready for him. He hesitated a second, watching her shudder as he stroked her with it, up onto her clit, and then back downwards again to her openning. It pleased him that she was responsive and eagerly awaiting his love-making.

The human side of him wanted to warn her that this would be brutal, but the animal in him did not feel like talking. Only taking.

With one powerful thrust, he crammed his cock deep into her, enjoying her responsive gasp and he began to plummet away with force, pounding his stretched-out slave with animalistic need as he groaned and grunted out his pleasure. Each thrust into his receptacle was like a soothing balm onto his angry system and he satisfied himself immensely with his use of his slave. Within minutes he already began to feel the hot cum sirening its way out of his body and he withdrew just in time to spray her - her tits, stomach and pussy as he released his pent-up frustrations in powerfully satisfying orgasm.

This is a snippit of the story from Slave Tales.

my Fairy Tale

I don’t want to be the strong one anymore. I hate always having to be the ‘strong one’. I can’t do it right now, I’m faking my way through it and . . . . no one has even noticed. Perhaps someone is aware of my inner struggle but is too polite to say something about it. But that is unlikely.

I feel so alone most of the time that I’m beginning to withdraw from everyone around me. I’m not depressed, and its not anxiety, its just. . . easy for me to get lost in thought lately. Most of the time, I’m upbeat and laughing but when that lonely feeling hits, it hits so hard I can’t breathe.

I know it is my own fault. I bust my ass at work, bending over backwards to take care of my clients and protect my staff. 24/7, all month long, really takes its toll on my body and my fibromyalgia flares up so badly that by the time my ‘off days’ come around, sometimes I can barely walk. So I hole up for a few days, either with my parents or at my sisters, resting and recuperating. By the time that I’m feeling better and want to go do something, its time for me to return to work. My clients need me, I have allowed myself so close that I see them as my children, and they see me as a mother.

Swimming, fishing, crocheting, board games, reading, movies, music, etc ~ the things I enjoy doing, you don’t do in groups. Even when I meet others who enjoy it, the fibro places such strict limitations as to when I can go and what I can do that. . . others don’t stick around long enough to participate with me. Its not like I can find a community based group who “likes to listen to jazz and big band swing while playing canasta”. And when I do meet others who have the same interest, the joining fee is crazy expensive or I can’t make long term plans because of my job.

I’m not saying that I am desperate, far from it. If it was just human contact, casual sex, another’s touch I wanted, I could easily have it. I think what my heart hungers for the most, is having that person who truly doesn’t WANT anything from me – other than who I am. Able to offer total honesty and my sincere service, obeying Him and that will be enough. Yes, he may have expectations for my service or preferences in my behavior, but . . . as far as wanting something in return from me, He doesn’t.

Not all the time of course, but sometimes . . . I would be enough. He would be the strong one. He would be the decisive one. He would just allow me to . . . be. Giving me permission to place my head on his chest while He watches a movie, or allows me to rest at His feet while He reads, just to be close to Him – so that I know that everything will be ok. . . because He is there.

So much is going crazy right now, and has been for a few weeks. Work, family, friends, my fibromyalgia. . . . I just need a break from all of it. Not a break as in ‘disconnection’ but someone to sit me down, say ‘elana, that is enough’ and allow me just to. . . be His. Safe in Daddy's arms. Secure in His service. Focus on pleasing Him, obeying Him. And He would take care of anything else until I am strong enough again.

This is my fairy tale.

I know in my head that only I can be strong enough to endure what I go through on a daily basis. I know that I am the only person I can truly count on to ensure that my responsibilities are taken care of and everything is followed through. I am not saying that I need a man for any of this, trust me I know that I don't. But sometimes, in the wee hours of the morning, my heart hopes to meet the One who is not only strong enough but . . . wants to be there for me, in those ways.

Food for Thought

One day posted to the door was a huge notice.

'Yesterday the person who hinders your growth and the growth passed away. You are invited to join the funeral in the banquet room that has been prepared for this purpose'.

All who read the notice became sadden by the demise of one of their own, but after a time were curious to know who had hindered their growth. Security at the location was heightened for there was an overwhelming crowd.

The more people who reached the coffin the more the tension heated up, everyone thinking 'Who is this who hinders my growth? At least the person is no longer with us!'. One by one the crowd got closer to the coffin, and when each looked inside the coffin each was suddenly rendered speechless. They stood nearby quiet, shocked into silence, as if someone had touched the deepest part of their soul. Within there was a mirror, everyone who looked inside saw themselves.

Next to the mirror was a message that read:

There is only one capable to limit your growth, you and you alone. You revolutionize your life, influence your happiness, realize your success and control your feelings. You are the only one who helps yourself. Your life does not change if others change, nor if they like or dislike you, your life changes when 'you' change, when you go beyond your limiting beliefs, when you realize you are the only one responsible for your life, when you understand the most important relationship you can have is the one you have with yourself, when you accept responsibility for your own actions and do not blame others. Examine yourself, watch and do not be afraid of difficulties, impossibilities and losses, be a winner.

The Way He Was Raised

The Way He Was Raised

Sung by Josh Turner

He always wore those worn out flip-flops
Spent hours in his Daddy's workshop
he loved being on the water
Fishing with His friends
He always listened to the old folks
When they'd tell stories and crack jokes
Didn't talk back to his Mama
When she got onto Him

Oh, that's just the way He was raised
Had to finish all His chores 'fore He could go outside and play
they always went to church that's were he learned how to pray
And that's just the way He was raised

He grew His hair out when He got older
Grew it clear down to His shoulders
Started hanging with the outcasts
When He went off to town
Some called Him a troublemaker
Even some said a lawbreaker
No matter how they talked about Him
He never put nobody down

'Cause that's just the way He was raised
When people start to gossip, He'd just walk away
He always loved his neighbor no matter what they'd say
Oh, that's just the way He was raised

On a cross, on a hill
That longhaired boy was killed
All our sins washed away
When He walked out of that grave

Oh, that's just the way He was raised
there's no way we can measure
The sacrifice He made
He knew He had to die
For our debt to be paid
Oh, that's just the way He was raised

It took the hand of God to roll the stone away
And that's just the way He was raised
Yeah, that's just the way He was raised

Something to Believe In

Sometimes the things that may or may not be true are the things a man needs to believe in the most. That people are basically good; that honor, courage, and virtue mean everything; that power and money, money and power mean nothing; that good always triumphs over evil; and I want you to remember this, that love... true love never dies. You remember that, boy. You remember that. Doesn't matter if it's true or not. You see, a man should believe in those things, because those are the things worth believing in. ~Secondhand Lions

I love this quote. Even though in the movie it is part of the character's "how to be a man" speech, firmly believe that we should all abide by it. If nothing else, these things are what we need to remain kind, hopeful, and honest in our ambitions.

Because I think that this quote says it all, there isn’t much else for me to say.

The parents that cried 'wolf'.

Once upon a time, there was a girl born to two teenagers in a small town in Tennessee. They did the best they could to raise her, and quickly learned that the best way to keep her under control was with idle threats. Of course the girl didn’t know that they would not follow through with the intimidation until much much later, so each time that they threatened to leave her somewhere or give her away to someone else worked to keep the girl under tight control.

One of their favorite methods was giving the girl the silent treatment, going days without taking to her for almost any act of disobedience. Not getting the laundry folded in time or put up incorrectly would result in wordless days between parent and pleading child. If the behavior was significant, the phrase “if it wasn’t illegal I would leave you at such-and-such so another parent could try and make you act right!” or “I don’t even know why I come home to you anymore, one day I’m just going to go start my life over -- without you!” It didn’t matter how the girl cried, begged, pleaded with her parents, the silence continued.

This blog isn’t big enough to tell about the adult relationships that reaffirmed these negativities. The people she trusted, cared for, and became involved with – their verbal rage of how the girl could never make anyone happy or constant questioning of how anyone could truly be interested in her left emotional gashes in her heart where previous scars had been carved. A time that haunts her still, happened about six years ago. Someone the girl loved deeply, devoted herself to serving, and obeyed with all her might suddenly decided they no longer wanted to be involved with the girl and just ditched her one night, literally.

And now, as an adult, the girl tends to feel this overwhelming panic sensation when her requests of attention go unanswered for extended periods at a time. This overpowering fear of the quiet person being either angry, upset, or disappointed in her almost smothers the very breath from her being. This is made much worse if the person in question has already vanished once before, because the words still echo in her head... how the girl only makes people miserable and he/she should just forget all about her, starting fresh elsewhere.

As stated before, the girls parents meant well, they were only doing what they were taught from a young age to do. Luckily, they have matured since then and no longer use emotional abandonment to get their way, guilt is now the weapon of choice. The girl is struggling not to let this fear/pain control her emotions and reactions now. But sometimes, when the nights are extra dark, her surroundings extra quiet... those old ghosts come to disturbs her once again...

Knowing her own background and how she seems to be a bit “thin skinned” when it comes to attention and being in contact with someone, the girl does her best to explain that when she reaches out – she isnt trying to control the other person or get a ‘certain reaction’, sometimes she just needs to know that the other person is still there.

Thinking of Him

I don't know how He does it...
Something about Him,
is keeping Him on my mind...

Especially today,
but in the best of ways...

So as the evening draws to an end,
here I am...

Thinking of Him.

slavery is . . .

slavery is not about suffering . . .
. . . slavery is about service.

slavery is not about humiliation . . .
. . . slavery is about humility.

slavery is not about pain . . .
. . . slavery is about being present.

slavery is not about being used . . .
. . . slavery is about being of use.

slavery is not about control . . .
. . . slavery is about letting go.

slavery is not about your desires . . .
. . . slavery is about giving to others.

slavery is not about abuse . . .
. . . slavery is about acceptance.

slavery is not about proving anything . . .
. . . slavery is about being real.

slavery is not about contempt . . .
. . . slavery is about respect.

slavery is not about how you look . . .
. . . slavery is about how you care.

slavery is not about denying yourself . . .
. . . slavery is about being open.

slavery is not about punishment . . .
. . . slavery is about discipline.

slavery is not about being unable to escape . . .
. . . slavery is about being committed.

slavery is not about submission . . .
. . . slavery is about obedience.

slavery is not about fear . . .
. . . slavery is about trust.

slavery is not about sex . . .
. . . slavery is about love.

slavery is not about pleasure . . .
. . . slavery is about happiness.

Special Thanks to MasterReese who has allowed me
to use His journal entry in this post.

Down Time

Today has been a very long day, my work schedule is beginning to catch up with me. Most of the day has been spent resting, watching movies, and redoing my nails. I am pretty sure the fibro has something to do with this soreness, but I have not been very nice to my body over the last ten days or so.

The choice of movies today have had a common theme of romantic comedies in which the lead male character did a hundred little things for the female lead, for no other reason than because they made her happy. Yes, those are movies and not reality, but there is a small part of my girlish heart that wishes it was true in reality. Not only did I get a good cry with each film, but also was left with a feeling of hope after watching The Notebook, The Lake House, and A Walk to Remember.

This post tends to remind me of that part in Sleepless in Seattle, where Rosie O’Donnell tells Meg Ryan "You don’t want to be in love, you want to be in love in a movie." haha Not saying that is true here, but... on some level, it has some merit.

Dear Daddy

Dear Daddy.

It’s been such a long week that I need some serious Daddy time. I’ve been working 18-21 hours a day for the last four or five days and I’m beyond tired. But then again, I’m not really sleepy, more of a drained feeling – but some kind of ‘speeding’ seems to have taken its place. I just need some Daddy time.

The night seems darker right now, shadows everywhere, and I don’t like it. Not even my stuffed elephant isn’t working to make me feel comfortable and safe tonight. I even dug out my crayons in the wee hours of this morning, but I couldn’t even focus enough to color properly! So I put in my favorite cartoon instead, and was back out of bed before the opening segment finished! So dang fidgety that bubbles aren’t holding my attention either. When I was able to actually catch a nap, my dreams were fitful and send me tossing turning... Daddy maybe you would please pet my back or run your fingers through my hair... just until I fall asleep, please? You wouldn’t have to stay all night, just until I fall asleep?

Needing to be tucked in,
little girl

Aching

I don’t understand, I’ve worked almost constant the last nine days and I think it’s putting me into heat!

I cannot stand this. my whole body is on fire... blood pounding through my veins... each inch of my skin tingles... fingers seem to stray to most sensitive parts while thoughts seem to constantly be focused on physical acts of service to the One who drives me crazy sexually. His control igniting the fires within until the blaze consumes me completely.

Then again, maybe it is the heat outside... Maybe it is because I've ignored these feelings for so long that I'm loosing that control... All I know is that it is driving me crazy... Keeping my attention on the things I have no answers for, my dreams and desire so intense that they are becoming much harder to resist.

Swimming

I love the water. There is something safe about the support of the water, the gentle massage of the waves, the way I feel graceful beneath its surface as I swim across the pool. I feel such a strong connection to water, whether in a pool, river, lake, ocean, or even the tub. I just feel more like ‘myself’ perched on the bank/shore, lost in the hypnotic roll of the current/tide.

If I could have a super hero power, it would be to be able to breathe under water. I want to explore the depths of the sea, discovering the secrets of the ocean’s floor. Would the wild dolphins be friendly? Are octopuses misunderstood? I cannot wait to visit the reef, admiring the colorful fish as they go about their business. Yes I know that I could scuba dive and experience the same things, well almost the same things...

Perhaps I was a mermaid in a past life, or a wench on a pirate/sailor’s ship. All I know is that I cannot wait to go swimming again!

Urges

To say that I have been ‘horny’ lately is an understatement. Feeling His hand in my hair... fingers curling against my scalp... guiding my lips to His groin... Hot breath against His skin as the tip of His body signals my mouth to open around Him... His girth takes my breath away, causes a gag as He toys with me... The power of His hold on me, the devotion in my mouth’s worship, muffled moans and pants of need... Until His pleasure anoints my face and/or breasts...

I can’t get these images out of my mind...

out of my imagination...

It's in my blood...

I think I am going into heat....

*Authors Note: Even though I have a burning desire to serve in this manner, it doesn't mean that I am looking to do it casually or as a hook-up. Which is why I haven't called my Friend.*

Control... an anecdote

A young Dom and an Old Master were walking near a rushing river one day when the young Dom says, “I have had my little one (youngest sub) for almost 3 years and I still I can’t control her. Can you tell me what am I doing wrong Sir?”

The old Master paused for a second and said, “A sub is a lot like a rushing river; if you want the river to bend to your will you don’t stand in the middle of it trying to confront it head on… even the strongest of beings haven fallen to its influence. But, if you give the river a different path to follow and guidance along that path it will surely follow your direction.”

“But” the young Dom said bewildered “its the high walls that keep the river under control… how do I create the walls that will control my sub Sir?”

The Old Master shook his head solemnly and sighed, “ Is it the walls that got higher or did the river carve its way deeper into the path?”

The young Dom’s eyes opened wide as the old Master continued… “Let the river run along the path that you have laid and it will carve out its own prison…. the key is to control the path not the river.”

Service through the Fog

How does illness affect your service?
How do you handle it’s effects?

As I have stated before, I have fibromyalgia. Not only are parts of my body more sensitive to touch/pain with fibro, but I sweat like a whore in Church sometimes. It limits the positions I can assume and how long I can remain still in them. I tend to push myself too much when I am feeling good, and the exertion causes more pain, which limits what I can do. It is a vicious cycle. During rough days, the pain is so great that I can barely make my way from the bed to the bathroom and back, so on those days I would feel completely useless to a Master. I haven’t experienced S/m service with the fibro, so I am unsure how my body will respond to it.

The little girl within is very protective over my heart; she tends to speak out when the fibro flares up. Maybe I just slip into that mind-set because to me, the little girl does need to be cared for by Daddy so it is how I give myself permission to "need" more of His attention and guardianship. But the slave, who tends to be raw anyway, is sent running when the fibro flares up. She is so afraid of failing and being a major disappointment to Master, withdrawing in case He decides she is no longer worthy or able to serve Him... and abandons her to seek out another.

To be completely honest, part of me is very scared that it will be too much for Anyone to work around... in a power exchange relationship, it would seem that the fibro would be in charge moreso than the Master. However, one could argue that with the structure and guidance that a Master who is educated on fibromyalgia could provide, He would be able to manage the condition so that I could serve him to the best of my abilities.

I hope that the One who desires me as His, who wants me as His, who will take me as His... will want me completely. Learning to guide me through the fibro land-mines as well as master my heart, mind, and body.

Topic provided by SensualService.

Pleasantly Plump

You can ask almost anyone to name a sexy sensual goddess from all the popular beauties and many people will say Marilyn Monroe. However, what many people do not realize that Marilyn was a size 12! A TWELVE!!! If she were alive today, she would be considered a "plus sized model"! (And that was back before the sizes were made even smaller to convince perfectly healthy women they are fat.) Yes this amazingly vivacious erotic woman who seduced one of the most idolized men in America’s history. But if you ask people now, your answer will be one of the numerous Hollywood waifs who are rail-road thin.

In today’s society, the media portrays airbrushed stick figures and has the audacity to call them “real women”. They aren’t even authentic, let along a healthy woman! These walking skeletons intimidate women all over the world, scaring them into drastic acts of weight loss, from crazy prune diets to surgery to popping pills like they were eating tic-taks. For how that effects girl's self esteem and encourages disorders, here is a good article.

Not to sound vain, but I like my body the way it is. Of course, I would love to be able to remove the fibromyalgia but I can't so I'm working on accepting that aspect of my abilities. However, it doesn't change the fact that I like how feminine soft and warm my body is, curves are inviting and guide His hand from place to place. I don't think that small women are unattractive, I just like myself juicy thick. :)

Restless

I’ve been restless the last few days. Not that I don’t appreciate my life and enjoy what I’m doing, I do. Something just... feels off. Maybe I have cabin fever. I just feel like there is another version of myself locked inside and scratching to get out. Then again, I have had more thoughts about surrender and getting back in touch with my inner slave and little girl. Hmm perhaps that is what has me so antsy?

Grace sent me this song today, after talking with her about it. I want to post some of the lyrics here, because it really speaks to my heart. The song is 'Wild Horses' by Natasha Bedingfield (I love her music!)

I feel these four walls closing in
Face up against the glass
I'm looking out, hmmm
Is this my life I'm wondering
It happened so fast
How do I turn this thing around
Is this the bed I chose to make
There's greener pastures I'm thinking about
Hmm, wide open spaces far away

All I want is the wind in my hair
To face the fear but not feel scared

Wild horses I wanna be like you
Throwing caution to the wind, I'll run free too
Wish I could recklessly love like I'm longing to
I wanna run with the wild horses
Run with the wild horses

A Sign?

Here is your horoscope
for Monday, June 2:

Why can't things be simple when you need them to be? Today brings so many shades of gray that you may have forgotten what black and white look like. Things return to normal soon, though!

Oh boy they really hit the nail on the head with this horoscope! Perhaps it is a sign of things to come? It definitely gave me a heads up about conversations held today...

Best Act of Service

Journal Topic provided by a Friend.
thank you Sir for the topic:

my best way to serve and/or
my best act of service.

A girl has given thought to her best act of service, and feels that it is her honesty. The girl has spent time in the past in reflection, trying to become more self-aware so that she may be more understanding of her surrender. When meeting those a girl is interested in, she tries to be as honest as possible... as service must come from the heart where the truth lies. Devotion, dedication, and unconditional support are also parts of her service that are promised to the One who captures her heart.

Although the down side of this need to share is that the girl is often called clingy, needy, unrealistic, and attention starved. But... her heart hopes that one day, the right One will not only want to know her to this level but expect this honesty from her. Hope that the right One will not be offended by her thoughts/feelings but guide her to a more pleasing way of seeing things as He would like for her too.

Perhaps it is the constant hunger to improve and become more pleasing that is the sincerest part of her service? Honestly desiring to make Him proud, to show growth in her service to Him, wanting to show her adoration and longing of Him, His attention, His time, His pleasure.