Friday, June 1, 2012


~Chapter 50~
I suppose this will be my new pattern—setting the alarm bright and early so I can write my journal entry. I realize HEA will require carving out a different slice of time during my day. I'm hot and bothered enough recalling the details of our scene last night; I don't need OMK imposing further filthiness into the mix right now.
I log into my journal with a swirl of thoughts in my head, but I'm sidetracked by the message from TwinkleToes, my cyber-domme-advisor person:
yp, be new to the life. It's clear from your description of the leash as "harsh," "cold," and "cruel." You are physically linked to your Master: it is affection itself. And you said you like it, but let's consider the alternatives. Would you rather be directed with a point and a snap? Or ignored altogether? Your Master could follow you with a crop at your backside, or fit you with a shock collar.
Shock collar? I gulp down a huge air bubble.
We're not here to scare you, but to help you remember what you have. Your Master is clearly a loving Dom, who can't even stand to be parted from you long enough for you to piss. I'm sure that was degrading (lol), but it's clearly something you need, and no doubt he's happy to meet that need. He sounds like a "giver." You're a lucky girl...Congratulations on writing again. I'll have to check out your work. TwinkleToes
How ironic that TwinkleToes has pegged my Master for a giver, considering his chosen theme last night. I'll show Master the comment later, but for now, there's nothing in here that gives me pause about responding, and I message her back right away:
Shoot, wait. I better not get familiar here. This lady means business.
Gotta say, the idea of the shock collar was not at all exciting to me! As for the point and snap, crop to the backside, and even the ignoring…yes, I think any or all of those would work! Yes, my Master is absolutely a giver, and please believe me when I say I know exactly how lucky I am. You may be interested to know my next entry is actually all about taking. Thanks so much for your encouragement. ~yp
TAKING/Journal Entry Three
January 4, 2012

Master's assignment: Which is harder for me—giving or taking?
Master, you've scrambled my brains along with the rest of me. Pleasure and pain, freedom and restraint, giving and taking…everything I used to believe were polar opposites are now just points on a circle. A very, very happy circle. But hopefully I can puzzle it all out here, and maybe my new friends will help with the sorting. So here goes.
Allowing Master to mold me into place, to be the clay under his hands? That was pretty easy.
"Don't move. Don't think. Don't anticipate. Think of yourself as an inanimate object here only for my entertainment. Understand?"
"Yes, Master." What could be difficult?
He stands at his place at the table and opens the fly of his pants, pulling his hardened length through the slot. I open my mouth wider to take him in.
"No," he says, grabbing my jaw. "Don't do that."
"Sorry, Master," I answer quickly.
"No more speaking either," he commands.
I am made of clay. His to mold.
Deep breath, Bella.
It's on me to watch even more carefully than usual once I've taken away her voice. I slip myself into her mouth and hinge her jaw closed around me. She's tempted to please me at first, and I give her one last warning not to take any initiative. No tongue, no moaning, no suction.
I gather her hair in one hand and take control of her head and neck. Gently at first, I pull her into my body, then back, giving her a chance to get used to the sensation and stop fighting it. I imagine her as a giant human blow-up doll, though I can feel her breath on my skin and her lips against the base of my cock with every motion. It's not long before I feel the familiar buildup. I pull out, spraying my cum between her breasts and watching her with great fascination as she accepts my fluids without moving.
"That's it, girl." She’s a quick learner, this one. I clean myself off and tuck back inside my pants.
I can't very well have a clay slab doing the dishes without moving, so I leave her thus as I take care of my mess at the table. Sigh, the price I pay for authenticity.
When I'm finished, I step behind her and loop my arms under her armpits, dragging her up to her feet. Looping her left arm around my neck and grasping her behind the knees, I lift her and carry her over toward the couch. I slide her into standing position, facing the sofa.
Time for a little fun. Let's see exactly how malleable she is.
Taking one wrist in each hand, I lift both arms straight out to the sides and let go. She holds herself in place admirably. Dang, where are those big buckets filled with twenty gallons of water when I need them?
God, you're an evil prick, you know that?
With the side of my foot, I slide her feet apart along the floor, opening her to about twice the width of her hips. Her eyes are doleful, and that reminds me, I don't want her looking at me. Not that I'm concerned her expression might soften my approach, but because she'll take better without knowing what's coming in advance.
From my nearest pocket, I pull out the heavy duty blindfold. There's no wiggle room. Even in broad daylight, it would be pitch black inside. "This exercise requires enormous trust," I tell her, stretching the heavy velour around the crown of her head and settling it over her eyes. "I'm your eyes. I'm your brain."
I move behind her quietly and lift her arms slowly from the elbow until they're straight up in the air. When I let go, I speak directly into her ear. "You're doing great. I love that I can do anything I want…including just watching you."
I leave her there and go into the kitchen to make myself some microwave popcorn. I know she hears the telltale hum of the microwave, and the popping is pretty much a dead giveaway. The buttery smell of theater kettle corn fills the space. I tear a paper towel from the roll and soak it under a cold faucet.
She's not expecting the kernel of popcorn I roll along her open slit, and she flinches a bit. "Easy there, princess," I say.
Ooh, I bet that's a little salty and perhaps just a wee bit painful. I step behind her and press my hand against her ass, pushing it forward into the waiting popcorn kernel on the other side. No escape, Isabella. Her pulse picks up with my attentions and I roll the kernel along her clit, careful not to touch her with my fingers. She seems confused as to whether she's experiencing pleasure or pain, but I'm not asking her to label it, just to take it.
Her nipples pucker into sharp nubs and her flesh breaks out in goose bumps. Pleasure then.
I step away from her body, drawing back my hands. There's a slight twitch of disappointment from her pussy, but I can't really blame her for that.
Time to get my clay-mation good and horny.
So what's so hard about taking then?
YOU try being forbidden from anticipating Master's needs! It flies in the face of every instinct I have to please him. YOU try expressing your most fervent dedication by doing and thinking exactly nothing! And YOU try repressing the desire he rouses just by standing nearby!
I'm not supposed to need or want anything for myself. But wait, Master wants me to TAKE in the pleasure and the pain exactly as he wants to dole it out. So he does want me to want? Now I'm truly confused!
I sense him in front of me, and feel the pads of his fingertips ghost down my neck, around the sides of my breasts, down my stomach and abs, then fall away. I try to expunge my urges from my head. I know my needs and desires are irrelevant. I know it rationally, but my body has other ideas.
My chest wants so badly to turn into his hand when he places it on me, ever so lightly, just along the edge of my sensitive breast. His thumb traces the crease where the heavy flesh rests along my ribcage. If he held chalk, he'd be outlining my every erogenous zone. Meanwhile, he spreads his spunk all over my belly with the glee of a kindergartener with a fresh jar of finger paint.
Suddenly, Master is behind me, and I only know this because his chest brushes against my back so lightly it's nothing short of torture. He drops tiny puffs of breath across my shoulders and draws goose bumps along my flesh again. His fingers scratch light lines down my raised arms. He pulls my arms wide at the elbows and locks my fingers together behind my neck. It's more comfortable, and I'm grateful for that, but I'm still entirely exposed and vulnerable.
Suddenly his hands are everywhere, but so light they offer no relief. I feel like a human Three-Card-Monte table, lightning-quick fingers shuffling invisible cards all over my front. And just as suddenly, he's gone.
Don't want anything, I beg my body. Just be his blank canvas.
Despite my best efforts, I do want. So badly.
The television comes on and I hear him sink into the couch in front of me. He surfs channels for several minutes before settling on a Coldplay concert. I hear him munching on popcorn while I stand in front of him doing nothing. I have no way of knowing whether he's watching me or ignoring me.
His finger enters without warning. It feels so incredibly good I long to cry out, despite the sting of salt. He gets faster and rougher and I don't try to hold back. I stand open, passive, most gratefully taking whatever he'll give.
He's gone again.
My pussy mourns the loss and sheds a tear of my own arousal. I follow its path with my mind's eye, down the inside of my thigh, knee, and onward toward my ankle. Just before I drip onto the carpet, a cold wet towel slaps against my leg.
"Oh you are a messy one today." He slides the cool wad up my leg, carefully avoiding my pussy. "Hmm, while I'm here, I should probably take care of this as well," he says darkly, flattening the towel against my stomach and rubbing the clammy rag all over my front. He pulls it away again, leaving my skin chilled and pebbled with goose bumps.
Rough fingers pinch my nipples, and despite the pain and surprise, I can't help but take pleasure in the warmth and contact. His touch is infinitely better than being left alone.
Suddenly, there's a moist warmth at one nipple. His soothing tongue provides a delicious contradiction to the activity still taking place on the other side. The more brutal his pinches, the more gentle his mouth. My head might explode as I try to turn it all off, and then—
The very tip of my nipple is captured in a tiny vise. Master's tongue moves to the other breast while his fingers jiggle at the clip, tapping my wet skin with the cold harsh metal and tightening the clamp just to the point of a dull throb.
I clamp the second nipple, tightening the tiny screw to the point where the tiny black tips will be tight enough to hold her attention. I lap at her breasts, alternating my soft tonguing until both sides are accepting of their new hardware.
I flatten my palm against her belly and begin a slow journey toward her sodden folds. Cupping her pussy in my hand, I feel the heat coming off her. I hold perfectly still until her control, predictably, lapses momentarily. There's a subtle shift as she tilts herself naughtily into my hand and I pull away quickly.
"Nuh uh uh, princess."
Stepping back, I observe my gorgeous sub. Beautifully posed with elbows held admirably back, breasts thrust forward, daintily adorned with metal clamps forcing her nipples into tiny pink buds. Dripping with desire below. I'm going to have to have a taste of that soon.
I snag one of the kitchen stools and set it down near the couch. Then, spinning her body to face away from me, I fold her top half forward, twisting her head gently so that her cheek rests on the seat of the stool. I free her arms and close her hands around the rungs. When I sit back down on the couch, I have a perfect view: her firm, ripe ass at the top of the frame, swollen bright pink pussy lips open and begging just below; through the widespread inverted 'V' of her legs, the swell of her perfect breasts angled toward the floor.
And the beauty is, with her weight more evenly distributed, she can hold this pose for a long time. I take the remote again and click around, landing finally on a Dexter episode from the beginning of the season. The popcorn's still good, and I eat most of the bag, letting the butter and salt build up on my fingers. Coming upon her silently, I tighten up the nipple clamps a bit more. She lets out a quick hiss but quickly gets it in check.
I tease roughly at her bottom, pinching, squeezing, and separating the two globes of flesh. Pulling her open, I kneel between her legs and breathe in her heady aroma. I extend my tongue and lap up her juices, moaning at the salt and artificial butter flavor I implanted earlier. She jumps at my touch and I grasp her firmly. I tease at her clit with the tip of my tongue and she fights the urge to squirm. She finally relaxes and I lap strategically to bring her close to that edge once more, and then I pull away. A tiny whimper escapes her, which plays right into my plans.
I stand and bend myself to her face. "I think you forgot you don't have a voice, my little clay-mation. You're going to need to be punished." Anchoring my hip to her side, I swat her bottom with my hand. The skin jiggles in a satisfying aftershock and immediately pinks up for me. I plant my other hand outside her pussy to catch her before swatting the other cheek. When her need meets my waiting hand, I give her a quick scrub.
"Oh, what a lucky Master I am! My lump of clay enjoys being spanked!"
She's two spanks away from a crashing orgasm.
"You are so, so wet! Is your Master gonna give you an orgasm? Don't think, princess!" I spank her yet harder and force her into my waiting hand.
Just one more…
I pull away the hand giving her pleasure. We're still connected at the hip.
I wait.
She wonders. What will Master decide? What is his pleasure?
And she craves that next spank, knowing pleasure is just around the corner.
I see where allowing Master to do all the thinking for me, along with doing whatever he desires to my body, is truly the ultimate surrender. It's not my job to assign value or even distinguish between pleasure or humiliation or pain. Whatever experience Master chooses for me, I accept gratefully without judgment. I TAKE from my Master so he can experience the pleasure of giving.
My knuckles must be white I'm gripping the rungs of the stool so tightly. I don't care what his next touch is, but please God, let him touch me again. Without the connection to his leg against mine right now, I'm not sure I could bear this moment.
My head buzzes with the throbbing between my legs and at the peaks of my nipples. And there's a dull ache rising on my ass cheeks as well, but I'd gladly offer them up for sacrifice if it means Master will press his hand against me just once more.
Just once…more.
He stalls.
I wait.
Then all at once, his palm crashes down and there's a sting and I'm catapulted forward but then his fingers are on me and that hand is still behind me, sandwiching my lust between all ten of his fingers. And there's no stopping this time, just thumbs circling and fingertips pressing forward, both sides closing in and I know I'm not supposed to move but my legs are shaking and my breasts are dancing. Between his two hands and the two clamps, I feel touched everywhere at once and it's so much, just too much, and I surrender and I'm flying and I'm wailing and I am gonna be in so much trouble!
Master is quiet. His hands are upon mine, and he wrests them from the wooden legs of the stool and pulls me to standing. I struggle with my blindness and my fear that I've disappointed him.
This exercise requires enormous trust. I'm your eyes. I'm your brain.
"Well," Master finally says, "that was a bit ironic, don't you think? Making all that noise while you were being disciplined for making noise? Tell you what, let's just consider that concurrent sentences, shall we? Time served."
I can't really follow his logic with my scrambled brain, but it doesn't sound as if I'm in for more punishment.
"Besides, I really should've done this at the start," he continues. I feel my chin drawn down by two of his fingers and a large object stuffed into my mouth.
Fuck Me! A gag!
Master settles the rubber ball behind my teeth and tightens the strap over my cheeks, buckling it snugly closed at the back of my head. My tongue fights at the intrusion and it's hard to suck in a breath. Panic wells up inside me, and it's then I realize my hands are free.
I'm starting to fantasize about doing the unthinkable, and just before I lift a hand to free myself, Master massages his thumbs into the back of my neck and squeezes me comfortingly.
"Sh shhhhh," he coaxes, aligning his lips with my ear and the side of his face against my head. "Easy," he whispers, intensifying his massage. "Don't fight it, Isabella. Just breathe easy. I want you to take it."
I can do this.
"Take it," he repeats. "For your Master."
My breath slows and I find that I can channel the breath through my nose just fine once I get my panic under control.
"Here," I say, pressing a buzzer into her palm and closing her fingers around it. "You can't see and you can't safe word, so if you have a problem, you push this button. Push the button if you understand."
The buzzer lets out a low-pitched buzz. "Good," I assure her. I lift her once again and lay her out on her back along the couch, lifting her arms over the rolled arm at the end. Dropping one knee on the cushion beside her, I lean down and jiggle her nipple clamps, tightening the tension yet again. That'll be enough for her first experience.
And speaking of enough, my dick reminds me he's had enough of waiting. I quickly shed my cargoes and straddle Isabella on the couch. Resting my weight on her abdomen, I swipe my thumb along her chin, wiping away the drool that's escaped her gag. I tip forward and flick at her nipple with my tongue, then quickly release the first clamp. I close my lips over her nipple and lap gently as the blood rushes back and a wave of pain causes her to cry out into her gag.
I caress with my fingertips, circling the swollen area and talking to her softly. "I know, baby. Go ahead and scream. That's why I gagged you." I continue to soothe the offended nipple and watch her beautiful muscles writhe and twist beneath me, struggling not to move. When she finally stills and the low moaning becomes a soft hum, I move my attention to the second clamp. Brushing along her pinched nipple with my knuckles, I tell her, "The second one usually hurts about twice as much because now you know what to expect."
Her muscles clench visibly as I take hold of the clip.
"Take it, princess. For your Master." With that, I unclamp the pressure and pull away the hardware. There's a loud wail beneath her gag, followed by a series of sharp, shallow breaths. My mouth is quickly on the site, lapping, warming, comforting. I get to be the villain and the hero in this story. It's so delicious.
All her moaning and panting and writhing have me good and worked up, and my cock has settled into a steady rhythm against her stomach. I scoot back and give myself room to grab behind her knees. "Loosen up, baby. Give over all your muscle control to me. You're a rubber band. My rubber band."
My hands skim down her calves and grasp her ankles. I fold her legs up toward her ears, lifting her ass off the couch and leaving me the perfect angle to bury myself inside. "Ahhhh, fuck, that's good," I manage as my balls make contact with her body.
"This…is Master's last gift…of the night…sweet princess. Take…take…TAKE!"
I release inside her and continue to pound against her G-spot until her inner walls spasm around my very satisfied cock. I draw her ankles back down to a comfortable position against the couch and I make sure to cover Isabella with my body. I rest my head against her breast bone and place soft kisses along her skin as I release her gag and gently disengage the ball. I move a hand to her jaw and tell her, "Go ahead and work out the kinks." When she seems loosened up, I place a soft kiss against her lips.
Holding myself up on my elbows, I slip the blindfold up and over her eyes. She blinks several times before focusing on me, and I finger through her static-messed hair while she gets her bearings.
"Welcome back, sweetheart," I say. She smiles beautifully and drops the buzzer to the floor, drawing her arms around my neck and pulling my full body weight against her body.
"You were perfect, Isabella."
"Thank you, Master," she murmurs into my hair.
"It's time for your boyfriend to reclaim you. Say hello to Edward."
I feel her chuckle right through the wall of my own belly.
I unbuckle her collar while she giggles, "Hello, Edward."
I push up and look into her eyes. "I know it's corny. I'm still working on it."
"It's fine," she says. "You're perfect."
Not gonna lie, that gag was rough at first. But as soon as Master reminded me that it would help me let go, for him, I was ready. And boy was I ever glad to have something to scream into when he released those nipple clamps!
Taking is harder for me, but I think practice will make perfect. Hint, hint, Master?
With deepest gratitude for you, Master,
~your princess
"How do your nipples feel?" He's propped up onto his elbow next to me, tracing the softest circles around my tender skin.
"If you keep that up, I think I could come again."
"Damn, you are a greedy girl," he says gleefully.
"You've created a monster." I sigh heavily, wondering at the truth in my own statement.
"Music to my ears, baby," he chuckles. "Or should I say, Frankentart?"
"Very nice," I admonish him, just before breaking into giggles. My thumb nail drags along his back in random patterns.
"No…wait. Slutty Gumby!" He looks very proud of himself.
"Oh yeah? I believe that makes you Pokey!"
He drags a retaliatory fingernail along the edge of my breast, outside of the range of the clamp.
He tips his gaze to mine, changing course. I can see him watching me, measuring. "How was the transition tonight?" he asks.
Edward is sprawled on top of me still, covering at least 80% of my body with his. His weight feels so comforting. "Well, aside from the fact that Edward needs a better pick-up line, it was much easier. Thank you."
He drops a line of kisses along my jaw line. "How was it being blindfolded for so long?"
"I think it would've been too hard for me if I didn't know you were close by all night. I could feel you, or hear you crunching popcorn…"
"Yeah, that's why I didn't eat a bag of marshmallows." I feel his smile spread into my chest. "As we progress, I will be leaving you for longer periods of time, when you're ready to sink a bit deeper. I might be watching you from afar or I might even go into another room for a while."
The idea is actually painful to me.
"Don't worry," he soothes, "not before you're ready."
"I trust you," I tell him easily, truthfully.
"Can you tell me how you experienced the gag?"
"It felt awful, it tasted horrible, and it was really scary at first. Like the sensation of snorkeling, where you have to fight logic and breathe through your mouth underwater, but kind of the opposite."
"And once you got yourself under control?"
"I felt…stifled. Like you didn't want to hear from me."
"No, Isabella," he says immediately, cupping my cheek and holding my face toward his. "It was actually the opposite tonight. When I gagged you, it was so that you could just feel what I wanted you to feel without having to worry about holding back. It was meant to free you." His thumb brushes a soft line back and forth across my chin. "Do you see that?"
"Free me? By plugging me up? Sorry…I'm not getting it."
"Did you know that the real pain of the clamps comes when you remove them?"
"I vaguely remember reading about the blood rushing back in, yes."
He chuckles. "Well, I've actually seen it once or twice, and I knew you were going to scream when I took them off. I wanted you to have that release."
I have to ask the obvious. "So why not just allow me to scream?"
He kisses softly into the flesh of one breast and brushes his thumb over the crest of the nipple. "A—the gag forced you to focus your breathing back to normal more quickly, B—the rubber ball gave you something to bite into for counter pressure, and C—my ears were dangerously close to your mouth at the time."
I give him a playful whack on the back at the last one.
"So you gagged me so I could have my voice back?"
"Yes, within boundaries that I'd established. This isn't to say that I will always use the gag this way. More likely, it will play a part in a humiliation scene where I am trying to make you feel stifled. But instead of blindfolding you, I'll probably toss you in front of a mirror so you can get a good look at yourself all tied up and muzzled."
"Are you trying to make me come again?"
"No, sweetheart. Just leave you wanting more."
"Yeah, I don't think that's ever gonna be a problem."
"Well it's nice to be appreciated, baby. Do you have any other concerns or questions?"
"Was there any nutritional value at all in that dinner you fed me?"

The last thing I remember before falling into a blissful sleep is Edward's low, rumbling laughter.


  1. This would've been Tuesday, right? Weren't they supposed to go to dinner with Bella's parents on Tuesday? Or is that the following week?

  2. ok... sorry, but the whole damn time I'm thinking... that butter and salt is sooo gonna giver her an infection down there! BWAHAHHA Sorry, the nurse in me is so not liking that part. But everything else... yes, yes, and hell yess!

    1. I took a beating on that chili dinner in the dinner slave scene. Probably there's a manual somewhere on what not to eat.
      I've been married a long time. The occasional stray noise is usually giggled at and forgiven.

  3. Good evening once again Born. Interesting chapter. It took me freaking long enough to get through it. LOL. Everyone wanted something. 0~0

    { be new to the life. It's clear from your description of the leash as "harsh," "cold," and "cruel." You are physically linked to your Master: it is affection itself. And you said you like it, but let's consider the alternatives. Would you rather be directed with a point and a snap? Or ignored altogether? Your Master could follow you with a crop at your backside, or fit you with a shock collar.
    SHOCK COLLAR? I gulp down a huge air bubble.} No shit. A Shock Collar would make my va-jay-jay lock up tighter than Fort Knox. Ha ha.

    The scene was hotter than hell with the exception of the ball gag and the salt and butter. I kept thinking yeast infection and I would have been squeezing that squeaky toy for it was worth. LOL. All in all very interesting. I was glad to see her accept the removing of her collar a lot better this time. Edward just needs a new game.

    Thanks for sharing. Take care and peace. T.

  4. Don't you worry, T. Master will figure it all out.

  5. He's amazing in the way he takes her further and further every time, just to where he thinks she can stretch herself, metaphorically. She's amazing in that she accepts and embraces every reaction he pulls out of her, every feeling that she never knew she had. I'm truly in awe of all this. Part of me thinks that its degrading and demeaning but part of me wants to really know this kind of experience. You write it very well!!

    1. It's great if you can get to the place where you can read it without judgment of the "degrading and demeaning" because those values just don't really apply to the kink. It's all just one big swirl of consensual arousal, and how can that be bad? We know Edward respects her on every level, even when she's getting down and dirty (or maybe ESPECIALLY THEN!)