Standing in the Corner

When I agreed formally to submit to Perrin he warned me that I “would spend a lot of time standing in the corner”.  Last weekend turned out to be an instance of this.

There are in my mind two sorts of commands. Orders, such as ‘kneel down’ which involve physical presence and get obeyed at once; and assignments which are remote or may be delayed.

Standing in the corner turned out to be a bit of a crossover. I’d been ordered to fetch my collar, and Perrin fastened it on me as I sat at his feet, and rested my head on his knees. It was lovely and comforting and safe.

“Go and stand in the corner” he ordered suddenly. I was up and across the room before I’d even started thinking.

I stood, my face to the wall. Listening as he moved round behind me, and then went into another room. At this point I started thinking hard. First of all, he’d left me fully dressed, which I suspected meant he intended me to stand there a while. My corner is draughty when naked! I wasn’t being punished, (if I had been, I’d also have expected to end up naked), so I clearly was supposed to get something else out of the experience.

So, I thought hard about it. What could I learn from this. I could walk away at any moment, nothing held me in the corner. So why was I still standing, gazing at a very boring bit of wall? As I repeated the question to myself, the answer came to me; obedience and patience, both things I find difficult at times.  So I stood, and waited and waited (for about half an hour all told).

He came back, and stood behind me.

“Don’t speak a word” he insisted.

I’d considered silence in the corner to be a given, so clearly I wasn’t getting out yet. I concentrated on standing still and not speaking. His hands reached under my skirt and pulled my panties to the ground. Then his fingers reached in and probed my pussy, it was wet. I hadn’t realised how turned on I’d become just from standing there, obeying him.

Then he walked away again.

When he finally returned, he came and stood behind me once more. I breathed in his presence, desperately praying he’d release me. He spoke.

“Count slowly to one hundred and come upstairs”.

I did so.

This episode has certainly started me thinking seriously about my obedience to Perrin. Why do I obey? There is no outside force making me. I know deliberate disobedience would be punished, but I don’t obey him because I fear punishment. There is something inside me which strives to obey even (and perhaps especially) when it is difficult.

Today I completed a difficult (for me) assignment. Again I found myself considering, how easy it would be simply not to obey.  I wondered if I was crazy not simply to say “No, I don’t want to”.

I know though that I have given up the right to simply say “no”.  For my submission to be meaningful, it must be honest. What I have given up I must give fully. I would be hugely disappointed in myself if I did anything less.

Pushing my Limits

In trying to write anything about this weekend, I feel like the blind men trying to describe the elephant (if you have no idea what I mean then google for it). So much has happened and there are so many aspects which I could write about here.

For me though looking back, I think the recurring theme has been one of testing my submission. I do not mean that Perrin has been testing me (although perhaps he has) but rather that I have sought to test myself. I was not aware of that consciously over the weekend, but in retrospect I see my own behaviour and requests, which Perrin has been kind enough to grant, have been trying to assess my own submission.

The first test, which was at my suggestion, was a test of pain. Not quantity (I have a very low pain threshold, I’m ok with that), but rather testing my ability to accept it. Having realised that my whipping the previous week had been entirely on my bottom, I had wondered if I would be able to accept without seeking to protect myself, if the blows were falling elsewhere. I requested (and received) a flogging with our horsehair flogger, which is the gentlest of weapons. Perrin had me stand, naked, legs apart and on tiptoe reaching up to grasp the beam in the ceiling, while he whipped my entire body. He kept the rhythm nice and slow and I felt really focused and happy, listening to my breathing, and feeling the pain move around my body. I had my eyes shut, so the location and timing of each blow was a surprise, I wasn’t brave enough to open them and face anticipation as well.

The next test,was unexpected, but has given me a chance to banish a few demons. On Saturday evening Perrin had me on the leash, and sitting at his feet. He let me up on the sofa to eat dinner, and when I expressed a desire to go back on the floor afterwards, he suggested “in a good way” that I should “think about why I was happy at his feet”. So I sat and I thought.

I think I realised, that I wanted very much to submit to Perrin, and I wanted very much to express that feeling. I also realised I wanted to give him all of me, and all my submission, and that’s where I found my demon.

I have said previously that Sam gave me a collar. I also asked him the same question I asked Perrin. “How should I show you when I am feeling submissive and need your attention?” Sam’s answer was “crawl to me, naked, with your collar in your teeth”.

Perhaps foolishly, I trusted in that answer. My relationship with Sam was falling apart, although I hadn’t really realised it. Our sex life was practically non-existent, and I found myself desperately hoping that I could get some kind of reaction. I remember sitting in the hall, naked, holding my collar, and wondering if I dared go through with it. Needless to say, I dared, and I was rejected. I remember the hurt, but no details, a memory too humiliating (in a bad way!) to face. A reaction that left me unable to even think about any of the bdsm activities we’d shared without feeling physically sick.

Sitting at Perrin’s feet, thinking about that; I realised that over time I have reclaimed my pleasure in those activities, but the memory of that crawl still haunted me, and I wanted then to drive that demon away, and give Perrin that act of submission. At my request Perrin uncollared me, and let me walk away collar in hand without explanation. I went and stood in our hall, again facing my fear. I put my collar between my teeth, and naked, crawled back to my Master, afraid to look up, knowing that rejection would break me, but acceptance would heal me.

As always, he surprised me. He took my collar, and held it in his hands regarding me. “Are you worthy to be my slave” he asked. What a hard question. How could I say yes, when I have so much to learn, how could I say no, when I need so much to be accepted.

I gave him the truest answer I could, “I will try my very best, Master”.

He was gentle, “I can’t ask for anything more”. He buckled my collar back around my neck, and I was his completely.

The last test for me, was also the simplest. I have always known that my submission includes accepting anal sex, but it has been years since I have done it, and it still always scares me. I have known however that it was inevitable, and that anticipation and fear has dogged me for the last few weeks.  Suddenly though, as Perrin curled up behind me on Monday morning, his penis pushing gently against me, I found myself ready to accept it. He let me go on top, allowing me to control the initial penetration. Once he was inside me, I found myself relax into it, and the feel of his cock sliding easily in and out of my ass as I rode him was such a delight, I wondered why I had been so resistant.

And so, unexpectedly, the weekend became a journey through my submission. Perrin’s love and caring has enabled me to enjoy an intense array of experiences. It has revealed too, directions yet untraveled, and further adventures to take. Who knows what will happen next? *grin*

Collared

In our recently new found enthusiasm, Perrin and I decided to buy some new toys. We’d not looked very far before we came across a leather goods site which we simply couldn’t pass by without buying something. After much admiration we decided on impulse to buy a collar and some cuffs, and placed an order.

Perrin has never put a collar on me. Our bdsm play has always been implicitly negotiated, starting and ending in a fairly ad hoc manner.  It tends to the informal; playing punctuated by random side comments and discussion. Not that it can’t get quite focused, the whipping this weekend being an example of an impulsive moment which worked perfectly.

I have however worn a collar before. My ex, who we’ll call Sam, gave it to me.

My submissive fantasies have been with me all my life, but I had never given them expression. Sam and I were involved in a long distance vanilla relationship. Occasional weekends of intense sexual activity followed by long periods apart. On one of these weekends he loaned me the first Gor novel by John Norman. I read it, and wrote him a long letter (essay) discussing the story and it’s plausibility for real human relationships. The short version probably goes ‘It’s completely unrealistic but there are some great ideas in there’.

Sam clearly understood what I was saying, because he turned up to see me next with a collar and proceeded to collar me as his slave girl by candlelight getting me to sign (in retrospect) a slightly ridiculous contract. When he left he instructed me to wear my collar in bed every night; which of course I did.

Looking back I remember how seriously I took that collar. When it was on, I was totally focused on being submissive and obedient. I felt owned, and safe. For me to wear a collar is to be submissive. But a submissive without a Master is a sad thing. It was Sam’s attention that made it valuable, his exercising of control that made it meaningful. Later of course we lost all that, but that is another story.

I came home today to be greeted at the door by Perrin. Without warning, he fastened my newly arrived collar on me and proceeded to play with me, including walking me around the house on my leash (it matches the collar – it’s pretty) and fucking me on the dining table (for the first time in ages).

Then he chained me up by my collar and left me. I considered for a while and decided that I could move myself to a more comfortable spot within the confines allowed by the chain.

When he returned he was instantly angry and punished me for having moved, even though he hadn’t told me I wasn’t allowed to. It felt so unfair, and I’m pleased with myself for not talking back to him then; without the collar on, I would have objected loudly, I’m sure. Still it left me unsettled, and we ended up discussing it while he was rewarding me with my orgasm, which felt all wrong to me, still in my collar. I don’t think collared girls ought to criticise their Masters, even if they’re wrong! *grin*

So here I am, feeling we have some way to go to define what a collar means to us; but we have made a start.

Making your mark

Making your mark
Making your mark

Long ago, before Caitlin’s disappearance (metaphorically) due to the mini-pill, we had had spanking sessions, and such like, though I’d never really got the whole D/s thing until recently. I’d played the part, but its only with Caitlin’s reappearance that I’ve appreciated the full nature of my wife, and how being submissive is important to her.

We recently re-watched Secretary, and (surprisingly for a Hollywood film) it really brought home to me how strong submissives are.  D/s is not strength / weakness.

So, I’d never whipped Caitlin enough to leave a mark, and I though I’d better correct this. These were made with a wound up tea towel, it was surprising effective, especially with the buusiness end dipped in water.

I can’t begin to describe how proud I am for her to remain standing while I made them.

Fighting and Making Up

Yesterday was an ordinary day. It might have been considered a vanilla day, except that I had something on my mind. You see, Perrin has been giving me challenges. Commands that stretch beyond the bedroom door (figuratively that is; he’s not limited to location when it comes to demanding sexual favours) and require courage on my part to complete.

They’re not necessarily hard as such, but they have been chosen carefully to test me and my limits, so they’re things which are hard for me. The previous one was rolling in the snow. I know being expected to roll naked in the snow could be viewed in the bedroom category by some; but I can’t feel erotic and cold at the same time, I HATE being cold.

The next one might be considered easier, but it was something I had to do by myself and I had a time limit of Sunday night. I spent yesterday agonising over it, and started writing a post which tried to explain my difficulty in obeying. By the time I’d reflected on the apprehension I’d felt looking out at the snow, and how I had made a desperate rush through the door and forced myself to lie straight down in the snow without thinking, I knew the same approach was needed here, and I found myself  completing my task.

For me then, I was feeling highly submissive that day. Our originally stated plans for the evening had involved some play, and I was so ready for that, but that evening Perrin was distracted by other matters. They were important too, and I happily sat by while he worked, assuming I would get his attention later. I didn’t get it though, and when he finally suggested that it was bed time in a way that made it quite clear that bed meant ‘sleep’ I was desolate. I went up to bed and curled up miserably.

He came up, and curled up behind me but without his body really touching mine, and then he asked if I was ok.

Light the blue touch-paper and retire…

Was I ok? Well, if he’d made any kind of real contact with me then yes, I might have been. But right then, with him so distant that he COULDN’T TELL if I was ok, I felt the answer was no. So we descended into a very emotionally charged discussion with me trying to explain, without actually saying that I had wanted to be submissive to him, because quite frankly the idea of saying ‘Ok, dominate me now’ is too ridiculous and unrewarding to contemplate.

I hate arguing with Perrin. It’s painful for both of us, and utterly pointless because I love him so much, and even when I’m getting angry with him I’m vividly aware that eventually we will make up, and I will forgive him no matter how unforgivable the hurt feels in that instant.

So fast forward to us lying close together, my head on his chest, making up and discussing the problem constructively.  I swallow my pride and ask how I can express my submissiveness to him when I need him to know how I feel.

He tells me I can come and kneel beside him, eyes down, hands behind my back and wait for his touch on my shoulder to acknowledge me.

His answer is comforting, and arousing. I move my hand across his body and realise that he has an erection. I’m reminded that my submission excites him, and I feel suddenly nervous at my vulnerability to him. He kisses me savagely, a dominant’s kiss, his tongue and teeth claiming my mouth. I am aware of his strength, and my own helplessness to resist him.

He commands me to suck his cock, and I sink gratefully down to take it into my mouth. I endeavour to take all of him in, gagging myself with his length, my tongue seeking to please him. I love the feel of him, the taste of him. I focus on the moment, with no other thought than to give him pleasure.

Suddenly he is pulling me away, and ordering me on to my back. I lie there, legs open and knees up and he plunges into me without hesitation. He is pounding into my cunt, each stroke to its full depth, his body slapping against mine with the force of his thrusts. I am utterly overwhelmed by the rhythm of his body, aware that he is claiming me as his own. His passion is unrelenting, and I am distantly aware of the bed protesting the motion. Suddenly his breathing changes, and I hear and feel his orgasm as he explodes within me.

All is resolved.