missameliaandsir

Thoughts on an ever-evolving life

Archive for the month “June, 2015”

Miss Amelia’s Eyes

Miss Amelia’s eyes
Are bold
Beautiful
And deep, liquid blue
A blue that can pierce you, make you stop
Make you stare
Because you don’t often see this color in nature

To look into her eyes is to be captured, ensnared
Charmed
To see them shine compels me to find a way, any way
To see them shine again
To always, see them shine

To see sadness in them hurts in a way
Unexpected
Driving me to absorb all the sadness into myself
So that I may bring the shine to them again

When she feels sassy
Bold, and naughty
You can see fire in her eyes
Mischief dancing in the corners
Delight
As she smiles at your frustration

And when I own her
They turn liquid
Wide
Submissive
But never fearful

Her submission flows from them like a river
A blue, piercing, languid river
Rolling gently
Purposefully
Powerful enough
To carry us both

But you won’t see the river
The river flows only for me
The window to her soul
The blue portal
She reserves for me

So look into Miss Amelia’s eyes
If by chance you catch her gaze
She may show you a glimpse
Of a place
I have somehow earned
The right to dwell
Ever
Always
In Miss Amelia’s eyes

** This was sent to me in an email today. Professor was at work and I was at home. When I read it, I dropped to my knees as the tears fell. This kind of love, this kind of devotion and the way he sees and claims me as his, is incomprehensible to me. What could I have possibly done to deserve this man? I promise that I will spend every second, of every day, for the rest of my life, trying to be worthy of THIS MAN. MY MAN. MY HUSBAND. MY SIR. MY LOVE. MY EVERTHING. ❤

Why I Choose This Life

I was recently asked what it was about humiliation that turned me on and why should my Dom always come first. It was asked by someone who is trying to find their way through this crazy life. I felt that the answer needed more attention than a comment reply would allow.

The comment was about my post “She Had Forgotten“. First, I want to begin by explaining my writing. That particular story was categorized as Fact and/or Fiction. That category can be one or the other and can be a mixture of both. I have decided that I won’t share what actually happened and what just comes from my warped, depraved and very active imagination. It will be up to the reader to decide what they want to be true.

The Second thing I would like to address is the question about humiliation. I am absolutely NOT a fan of humiliation. It doesn’t turn me on in any way and I think it is mean, insensitive, unnecessary and just plain cruel. However, if you are referring to the part of that story where Sir coats her in a golden shower or has her kneel at his feet while he washes himself above her, then you need to know that I don’t identify that as humiliation. To me, humiliation would be if Sir decided to publicly make fun of the stretch marks on my belly, left from birthing his children. If he pushed me in the shower, forced me to kneel, coated me with a golden shower and forced me to remain there while he cleaned himself, I would find that to be an AMAZING expression of his love, devotion and ownership of me. Calling me a bitch, whore or slut during our sexual interactions is arousing. Calling me a stupid bitch in the grocery store would get him a swift kick in the nuts. Slapping me across the face as he reaches his body wracking orgasm is EXQUISIT! Slapping me across the face because he is pissed off is a sure fire way to get his ass shot. (And I have a VERY GOOD aim.) So, I think humiliation means different things to different people.

Finally, let me answer the question why should my Dom come first always and ever. He doesn’t. That is the simple answer. There is SO much life outside of our sexual exploits where his needs often come last. We have lived a majority of our married life as what most would consider a “vanilla” couple. We always had good sex, sometimes even GREAT sex, on a semi-regular basis with occasional mild kink thrown in to add a little spice. But NEVER too much spice. Oral sex, occasionally. Sex toys, sometimes. Anal sex, bondage, golden showers, cum on my face, multiple partners, pain…NEVER GOING HAPPEN! I came from a reserved, religious and repressed family. I know my parents had sex 3 times, producing me and my two siblings, but I am pretty sure that was it. There was no public affection, no kissing, no hugging, and no hand-holding of any kind. So many things in life were identified as “icky” like alcohol, PDA and of course, sex. So, my husband lived the life I wanted us to live for a VERY long time.

I had always been a people pleaser. I was a good mom, not the best ever, but I worked pretty damn hard to make sure my kids had everything they needed and wanted. I worked on committees, charities, and said yes to every bake sale and fundraiser for every school activity, club and sport they belonged to. I baked cookies for my husband’s work, embroidered logos and attended all politically correct events as the dutifully presented little wife. I jumped every time a family member needed anything. I was the friend that everyone called when they needed help. I was the “Good Girl” but I was unhappy and confused because I didn’t EVER get to decide what made ME happy.

Sir would probably laugh at the thought of me being unhappy about not getting to decide, because he would remember it as me making ALL the decisions. And he would be correct too. I ran the house, the kids, the money, the schedule, and absolutely EVERYTHING else. I compared life to driving a bus, I was ALWAYS DRIVING THE FUCKING BUS! And it was absolutely going to kill me.

Over the past several years, I had begun to change. I began to look at myself and what I wanted out of life. Our sex life had begun to pick up. We were making more time for us. The kids were older and we decided to start dating again. It was really nice. During this time, we had a friend that visited and confided in me about this lifestyle he was living. It was called BDSM and he described how his role as a Dominant worked and how her role as a submissive worked. My first reaction was “Good for you, but that shit will NEVER happen in this house.” After he left, I began thinking about what he had said. It rolled over and over in my head. I was so confused by the thought, yet somehow, the idea of it began to make sense and gave me a calming that I had never experienced before. Sir and I began discussing it in almost excruciating detail. I told him what I thought. He told me what he thought. We rehashed every nuance, discovering new things about each other and ourselves with every conversation. I told him my feeling about “driving the bus”. It was like a mountain had been removed from my shoulders when he so lovingly took the keys and told me that HE would be driving from now on.

So now, He has taken the lead and I choose to kneel at his feet and answer his demands. Not because I HAVE TO, but because I NEED TO. I truly enjoy the pleasure/pain/ punishment/ of our sex life. He truly enjoys the fight/adrenaline/submission/control of our intimate times. My husband and I are equals on every level and in every way. The love we share is the kind of love that fairytales and classic romances are written about. He doesn’t come first because he demands it. He comes first because he doesn’t.

A 100 Degree Afternoon

It was hot. Hotter than usual, just over 100 degrees. I was home, alone and dripping, sweat down my back and my own cunt juices down my leg when I heard a car pull into the driveway. I saw it was Sir and sent YOU my final email. He walked in, sat his bag in the entry room and stopped still when he saw me standing just a few feet away, still completely naked. Without saying a word, he crossed the floor to stop, and stand directly in front of me. I couldn’t help that my breathing was still a bit ragged and labored. He calmly asked, “Were you talking with HIM?”

As I opened my mouth to answer, he reached out and grasped my shoulder and began pushing down with his strong arms as he commanded, “Kneel at my feet before you answer me.”

I crumpled upon my knees, dropped my head and quietly answered, “Yes, Sir.”

He stepped forward until he was touching and towering over me then he asked, “Anything else I should know?”

Remaining in my submissive position, I began to tell the story of my afternoon.

I had sent HIM an email, thanking HIM for our lovely conversation the day before. HE responded with an equally thoughtful reply. A few additional emails were exchanged, hinting of a growing arousal. The next email from HIM arrived and all it said was, “Get 6 clothes pins.” I found myself to be excited and intrigued. I retrieved them and answered with a, “Yes Sir.” HE proceeded from there to command me to place one on each nipple and the remaining 4 on my labia. The sensation was intense. HE then commanded that a bobby pin be placed on my clit. The pain was concentrated, but my juices began to drip. I was commanded to my knees. I was commanded to deep throat a large dildo. I was commanded to insert an ice cube into my cunt and describe the feeling. Finally, I was instructed to retrieve two vibrators. By this time I was begging for release. Had been told that I could NOT cum. I couldn’t breathe, my body quaked and I was having trouble reading and responding to HIS continued commands. I begged for relief and finally, HE generously granted it, sending my body into a twisting, quaking, convulsing, and gushing spasm. I writhed in my own sweat and juices. I composed myself enough to offer HIM a thank you. HE responded with two more commands. I was to tell Sir, when he returned home, that HE had requested Sir whip my ass and cunt red with a belt and then He commanded that I have Sir send HIM an email, confirming that it had been done.

Sir listened quietly until I had finished the entire story. He took in a deep breath and asked, “So, did you cum for HIM?”

I raised my head so I could look directly into his piercing eyes and softly whispered, “Yes, Sir.”

His jaw clenched when he replied, “Well that is going to be one VERY expensive orgasm,” as his hand came down hard across my face. He followed it directly by grabbing a fist full of my hair, pulling me to my feet and down the hall to the bedroom.

He threw me face first onto the bed. I quickly began to turn myself around to face him when he again grasped my hair and jerked me to the edge of the bed. “Undo my pants, you little slut. You little cock slut.” I anxiously began undoing his pants and released his hardening cock from its cloth cage. He used my hair to jerk my head up so I was looking into his eyes. They were black when he said, “Too bad HE didn’t get to enjoy this part of you. HE would have really liked what a great cock sucker you are.” And he drove my head down, propelling his cock into my mouth, slamming it into the back of my throat. He showed no mercy as he fucked my mouth and I drooled, gagged and gasped for air. He reached a moment when he held his cock, buried deep in my throat, stopping all oxygen flow until I was afraid I would pass out. Just in time, he jerked my head back and growled, “I wish HE could see the spit dripping from your lips and chin. I am sure HE would LOVE it.”

He tossed me backwards onto the bed. He walked around to the other side, grabbed one of my arms and jerked it up to the edge of the mattress. He retrieved the metal handcuffs and secured my hands, stretched above my head, to the mounted headboard. He then scurried down to lash both ankles to opposite corners at the foot of the bed, pausing momentarily to admire his handiwork.

He then went into the chest and returned with his specially designed pussy paddle. It is made of wood, thin and streamlined, wickedly fast and hurts like a mother-fucker. He roguishly commented, “I know how much your pussy loves attention and I see that you have not gotten enough today. I think I would like to help you with that. I know HE asked for the belt, but I am sure if HE knew about this, HE would have chosen it instead. Besides, it’s what I want to use.” He then proceeded to whip my pussy until it was fire-engine red, swollen and tears were streaming down my face. He stopped, looked directly into my crying eyes, and walked out of the room.

When he returned, he sarcastically said, “Oh Baby, does it hurt? Here, let me cool the sting.” He produced an ice cube and gently rubbed it across my aching lips. He then suddenly thrust it deep into my pussy. Quickly followed by another and another. Growling again he said, “Now hold those good and tight until they melt you little slut. You took one for HIM, so you will do three for ME!” I gritted through the icy pain as water began to dribble, then trickle, then stream out of my wicked hot hole until my ass laid upon a giant wet puddle.

Sir quickly untied my bound ankles and pushed my feet up tight to my ass, knees pointing straight up to the heavens. He leaned over me, placing his face close enough to touch mine and commanded, “Don’t move your feet from where I just put them you greedy, hungry little bitch. I’m going to fuck you now, very hard.” And he positioned his rock hard cock at my wet, nearly numb opening, and thrust it in so hard and so deep that I gasped for air to relieve the sudden pain and shock. He began to pound me rapidly and mercilessly, so fast and furiously that I suddenly felt a tidal wave wash through me as a gush of juices poured from me that would later show to have soaked through several layers of bedding to the mattress below. Mere seconds later, with one hand around my throat and the other coming down in a stinging slap across my face, my cunt was filled with the full force and load of his body wracking release.

He continued to bring me to orgasm over and over and over again, using his fingers, fist, tongue and talented lips. Finally, I begged him to stop and he mercifully complied. I almost instantly drifted off into a completely spent, sated and satisfied slumber.

My Toy Box

I want to add to my toy/tool collection. No, I NEED to add to my toy/tool collection.
So, I am coming to you, the incredibly helpful, insightful and kinky people who read my blog. What do you suggest? What is your FAVORITE toy? What REALLY does it for you? What REALLY doesn’t work? (Always good to know the epic fails too.) I would appreciate any and all ideas, comments and suggestions.

PS: This is NOT my actual toy box. Mine is MUCH BIGGER! 🙂

With Pain and Pleasure


Picture taken from DarkBDSMtext/Tumblr.com

With pain and pleasure, I can squeeze water from rock.
With pain and pleasure, I can be heard in the heavens.
With pain and pleasure, I can flood the valley.
With pain and pleasure, I can shatter steel.
With pain and pleasure, I can draw blood from air.
With pain and pleasure, I can inhale passion.
With pain and pleasure, I can transcend, and so can you.

Feast Of Flesh . . .

This amazing Lady speaks the words I wish I could. Beautiful! 🌹

Give Her a Kiss from Me

Please, Sir, give her a kiss from me….
or a lick, a pinch, a smack or a thrust.
In one brief moment,
when you are claiming,
controlling
and enjoying her flesh,
give her a kiss
and in your head
think,
“this is from her,
just for you,
and you will never know.”
Allow me to enjoy a brush of her skin,
a small sting of her flesh
or a brief taste of her flavor.
Please!
Oh Please, Sir!
Give her a kiss from Me.

She Had Forgotten

She had forgotten her place and needed an immediate reminder.

They were going about their morning. Breakfast was finished, the last of the coffee had been drunk and Amelia had settled in at the computer to undertake paying the monthly bills. She was working through them diligently, one by one, when Sir approached her from behind. He placed a firm hand at the back of her neck and leaned in to claim a kiss. Amelia, still distracted by the numbers on the screen, absentmindedly turned her head, only offering a glancing cheek. Sir’s grip tightened and he firmly snatched her chin and whipped her head to face him.

“You WILL acknowledge me when I come to take what is MINE,” he growled as he leaned in for another attempt at her mouth.

Amelia gave a quick peck and tried to return to the task at hand, not thinking about her tone when she snappily replied, “I am busy. I have things to finish, so can’t you wait for 10 more minutes?” The next thing she knew, Sir had grasped her by the hair and yanked her from her seat at the computer. Breathless and in pain, Amelia pleaded, “Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Sir, that REALLY HURTS! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Sir didn’t hesitate for even a second as he continued to drag her whimpering body down the hallway, towards the Master bedroom. “You have forgotten who you belong to, Bitch. It’s time I remind you,” he pronounced through clenched teeth, as he launched her into the Master shower.

She stood there, stunned, watching as he undressed himself. She knew he was right. She had been sassy, bratty and inattentive to Sir for a few days. When he was finished shedding his clothes, he reached in and turned on the water. The iciness of the water made her gasp and retreat to the furthest corner seeking refuge from the cold. Sir grabbed her by the arm and jerked her back into the torrent of frigid water. With one forceful grasp, he ripped the nightgown from her neck, dropping the soaked pieces onto the tile floor. He quickly adjusted the water, which had turned to an almost scalding temperature, as he stepped into the shower, closing the glass door.

Grasping the back of her neck with an unmovable hold, he shoved downward and forced her to her knees, pushing her head into the hard corner of the marble shower. “Now you will KNOW I OWN YOU!” ushered from his clenched mouth as he began to coat her in his golden shower. She could feel the hot liquid being released upon her naked back and running over her shoulders, escaping via her hardening nipples.

The instant he had finished, he whipped her off balance as he turned her to face him. Still on her aching knees, he used his free hand to pry her mouth fully open and thrust his hardening cock into her awaiting throat. He pounded, thrust after thrust, into her willing mouth as her tongue caressed, licked and stroked his cock in the exact way she knew pleased him most. In this heightened state of force and Dominance, it didn’t take long before Sir released his entire load upon her face and down her throat. When his body ceased its jerking and quaking, he tilted her head back and ordered her to open her mouth as he allowed the water flowing down his softening cock to pour into her mouth. He ordered, “Drink!”

He pushed her down so her face and arms were now level with her knees on the shower floor. In a softer but still Dominant voice, he instructed, “You are not to move until I have finished my shower. When I am done, and have left the shower, then and only then, you may stand and clean yourself. Will you remember who you belong to now, my pet?”

“Yes, Sir,” came her answer from the floor through the pounding water.

Sir then began to lather himself. First his torso, arms and face, and then his head. As he rinsed, he let the hot, soap-laden water run off of him and onto the arched back of his kneeling Amelia. Through the steam and hissing of the water, he could see her breathing become level and steady, and thought he could almost see her quiver slightly at the intense sensation of the soapy water rinsing her clean.

She remained calmly in her given position, until Sir had exited the shower. She then slowly raised up on her knees, which ached and burned from the bruising of the marble floor. Using the small ledge as a handhold, and mustering all her strength, she arose to her feet and began to cleanse herself. As she finished her shower, a grand smile spread across her face. Yes, she had been a very bad submissive, but Sir cared for her enough to teach, punish and remind her of her place, at his feet, serving his needs and desires. She left the shower feeling the tingle of happiness in her core, and the pleasure of being very, very focused again.

Crazy Busy but I’m Back!

OK! Time to get back to normal!

Sorry I have been absent, but I have been CRAZY busy. Husband turned 50 and had a party for about 75 people in my backyard. 10 of them spent the entire weekend in my house. Followed immediately by an indescribable work week that included a staff party and ended with my oldest graduating from college. We then had his graduation celebration in my backyard the next day for 25 more people. One final day of work and we just got back from a 4 day trip to Las Vegas to celebrate our 20th anniversary. Today, we get to drive for 6 hours to get to a family reunion. I am FUCKING EXHAUSTED! Yet, deliriously happy. Each and every event deserves a story of its own, so look for those to be coming soon. (Especially the Vegas part, HOT!) 🙂

Work Day

She sits in her office chair, and she can’t stop the pulsing, that emanates from between her legs, from coursing through her entire body.

She thinks of her boyfriend…his touch, his eyes……..his marks. She feels the wetness begin.

She thinks of her girlfriend. Her hair. Her delicate tongue. Her smoothly shaven mound, razor-thin dark landing strip trailing to her own moist opening. Her wetness increases, her breathing quickens and deepens.

She thinks of her husband….her Sir. She sees his latest mark….faint, but she knows it’s there. She feels the slight sting at the top of her ass, where his hand print is still visible. Her breathing quickens further, and she must part her lips slightly to breathe. The wetness between her thighs turns to a steady trickle, as her pulsing is now so strong it pushes the juices out of her slit and soaks her panties. She hears his voice in her head. She sees his eyes flash. She feels his strong arms wrap her in a powerful embrace that conveys more protection, love, and ownership than she can hardly imagine. A slight moan escapes her lips as her mind sees his hands sliding down and peeling her sex open, and placing the head of his cock at her entrance. A vision of one swift thrust makes her feel the soreness inside, a legacy of several recent poundings. She closes her eyes, and her hips start to shake, her breathing becomes ragged, and then the waves come……again……again…..and she cannot stop them. Her orgasm subsides…..and her mind begins to blur….and float…..and she wonders………she wonders how on earth she is supposed to concentrate…..and then, she starts think about him all over again…..

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