Nature is conspiring to spoil all our fun!

Coital Cephalgia is specific type of affliction. It is typified by the expansion and potential rupture of the blood vessels surrounding the brain…

At the point of orgasm.

Arses.

My poor brat has suffered from two of these attacks the last couple of times we’ve had sex. Specifically, it’s happened when she’s masturbated, so while she may be flogged until she’s red and stripy from thighs to shoulders, as happened last week, or whether she spends half an hour over my knee making the acquaintance of our big square hairbrush, as happened last night, followed both times by more than excellent sex, the moment the poor thing touches her clitoris, her head threatens to explode.

The first time it happened was just three minutes before the kids needed to be picked up from school. I can tell you, every horrific scenario went through my head in the half hour it took me to get back. I fully expected to find her slumped on the sofa, haemorrhaging from every orifice, or lay full length on the floor where she’d tried in vain to reach the door before passing away in some horrible rupture.

Needless to say, she was fine. The next day she took herself to the Doc’s, from which she phoned me to inform me she was having to go to Hospital for a CT Scan. Later, she phoned me form the Hospital to inform me that she’d been admitted and had to spedn the night. This was, again, a few minutes before the school run, so in five minutes, I’d shoved overnight clothes and accessories into a bag, retrieved the allen key we’d need to take her collar off and arranged the cash to take me and our two kids to the Hospital.

Luckily, her CT scan came back absolutely normal, so she was spared the tests they were going to run overnight and she was discharged just three hours after being admitted.

A worrying coupe of days, I can tell you.

We’ve taken it easy since then, but everything seemed to be normal-ish. Until last night when we tried to have sex again (entirely unrelated to the fact that the spanking and hairbrushing she’d just got had made me somewhat horny). Again, the freight train ran through her head as her clitoral orgasm hit.

According to the Doctor, there’s a tablet one can take before sex to help ensure it doesn’t happen again. We’re going to need a lifetime supply.

I guess we’re just lucky it doesn’t happen while I’m spanking her. Try explaining that to an ambulance crew!

Can you guess the nature of the little game we played a few days ago?

I bet you can!

From the moment I explained the “rules” of Orgasm Denial to my brat, she took against it, claiming that it would be a cruel torture and the most unbearable punishment. Well, bearing that in mind, it was only ever going to be a matter of time before I tried it out on her!

Tuesday presented me with the perfect opportunity. I’d been feeling pretty low as most of you will have noticed, but the brat had apparently been slowly reaching simmering point, sexually. So eventually, her lust got the better of her and she asked permission to masturbate.

Masturbate, you see. She didn’t ask permission to cum.

Playtime for Master!

As she played with herself on the bed, tensing her legs together and rubbing oh so gently around her pierced clit, I took to nibbling on her neck and telling her all the dirty things I might be doing with her after her orgasm. As she reached her peak, she started to gasp, looked right into my eyes and begged to cum.

“No!”

I pushed her hand away from her clit and left her, writhing, right on the very edge of cumming. I teased her pussy lips with the tip of one finger and she cried out, nearly cumming from that very slight touch. For a good five minutes, she lay there, begging for me to play with her, touch her, let her go over that fine knife edge of self-pleasure, anything.

Eventually, her clit became too sensetive to touch, eliciting jerks and fits of giggles as I carried on gently grazing my fingertips over her pubis and inner thighs.

By this time, I was ready for a little pleasure of my own, so, taking her by the ankles, I pulled her bodily away from the headboard, spread her legs wide and entered her incredibly tight, oh-so-nearly orgasmic pussy.  For a while I simply pumped away inside her, her legs thrown over my shoulders in my absolute favourite missionary variation. Then she gaspingly asked permission to cum.

Now, you must understand, dear reader, that there is a world of differenece between a clitoral orgasm and a vaginal, penetrative orgasm. My girl finds clitoral orgasms to be far more intense than the best vaginal cum and therefore, no matter how many times I let/make her cum with my cock, if she doesn’t get that intense clitoral climax, she’s rarely satisfied. The practical upshoot of which is that I can fuck her rigid, make her cum over and over again with sex, but still effectively practise good orgasm denial by keeping stopping her from cumming right at the point of clitoral release. Which is exactly what I did.
In fact, we fucked so hard that she was still sore two days later.

But back to the clit…

After a few minutes hard screwing, I had to rest, so ordered her to masturbate again. I could tell from the moment she touched her clit that she was responding well to her previous denial. It took about ten seconds for her to go from “I don’t think I can” to “Please, please…let me cum!”. I let her wait again as she writhed in delicious agony, trapped between her desire to obey and her deep intense need to cum. Then, just at the point where she was expecting me to say no, just at the very edge, the absolute point a half-second before the point of no return…I took her hand away and spanked her clit.

Her orgasm hit her like a gunshot and she jerked off the bed in reaction, with a very satisfying grunt. Then I let her continue playing with her clit in order to get the most out of the inevitable aftershock orgasms…

She wailed her second orgasm out almost immediately, thrashing and grinding, flicking at her clit and winding herself around me. It just went on and on, even reaching that wonderful plateau of the silent scream! After a full sixty seconds of sheer climactic trauma, she came slowly back to earth, shuddering and grunting every few seconds as another aftershock rippled through her body.

She looked up at me with stunned eyes and proclaimed it one of the most intense sexual experiences she’d ever had. Then, helplessly, she passed out.

I left her to sleep, safe in the knowledge that however unbearable her orgasm denial torture might be, she’ll cope, knowing that the eventual release will be…explosive!

Some of you may know Bonnie’s hilarious Keyword Chaos feature, where she comments on the various sarch terms people have used to arrive at her blog.

Well, far be it from me to avoid stealing a good idea! This is from Novembers’ selection of goodies:

“fun time ankle restraints for her” NOW run away, little girl! BWAHAHA!
“ballgag wedding” I’m thinking the vows may be a little difficult to understand.
“pinching her nipples” Always fun!

“ballgag feels like” Ummm…like there’s a big ball…in your mouth?
“bound bondage frustration (climaxorgasm) -penis” If only the algebra at school had been this much fun
“equestrian spankings” Does your victim have a horse’s hiney?
“ldd audience punishment” Form an orderly queue as you leave the studio…Now bend over…
“brat toys” Canes, crops, paddles, cuffs…

I enslaved my girlfriend, what did you do?

The preparations started as soon as the kids had been dropped off at school. We

are lucky to live just a stones’ throw from a canal, which is banked with some immature but still half-decent meadowland. We took a gentle walk through these, snapping some snaps and taking in the dances of the squirrels in the trees, all making one last frantic rush for acorns before going into hibernation.

It was a really nice morning, almost idyllic. Crisp, but still warm enough to stand and take in the gorgeous autumnal colours. Among the photos we took was the wallpaper you’ll find in our sidebar. My brat is such a good photographer, aside from the site ID I put in the corner, I had to do absolutely nothing to it!

When we got back, I prepared the ritual space and set out the things we’d need - An incense stick in the east to signify Air, a bowl of water in the west corner to signify…Water, a candle in the south corner to signify Fire and a piece of crystal in the north to represent Earth, then a black candle which represents the past and a white candle to represent the future. Those were placed in the centre of the space.

There are a number of things you can focus on during a Samhain ritual. The usual is to use the ritual for scrying (fortune telling), or to commune with spirits as Samhain is the time when the divide between this world and the spirit world is weakest.

As it’s the pagan new year, it’s also possible to focus on the passing of the old year and looking forward to the new year ahead. This is the focus I decided to use.

Lighting the candle and incense stick, I “called the corners” (focus on each element in turn, welcome them to the ritual space and ask their blessing) and invited the God and Goddess to watch over us and bless us in our ritual.

Then I lit the black candle and intruduced it as being symbolic of the lfe we were leaving behind. We then burned a piece of paper each, on which we’d previously written our “old names”, our birth names that we were pledging to leave behind, as a sacrifice to the old life.

Then I lit the flame of the future and asked brat to get to her knees. I fastened her wrists and ankles together as a symbol of the physical, mental and spiritual bondage she was consenting to.

We then exchanged our vows.

As I placed the collar on her and fastened it, I gave my vow:

“I agreee to take responsibility and control of this girls’ life. I accept the gift of this girls’ submission and enslave her with love, strength and compassion”

Then, bound, naked and collared, I held up the vow I’d written for her to read:

“I submit my mind, body and soul to my Master’s will. I freely give my life to Him and I know that He will love me, protect me, teach me and discipline me as He wishes. I will try my best to please Him and serve Him as best I can, with the Goddesses help. I am His slave”

I left her bound while I thanked the God, Goddess and the four elements and released them from the ritual space. Then with a kiss, I released my girl and the ritual was complete.

After the ritual space was cleared away and the house “vanillified” once again, we got dressed - brat in a lovely silky skirt she’d bought over the weekend and a blue velvet top which set off her collar perfectly, me in a shirt and trousers for the first time in forever - and we popped to the nearest pub for a lunch of steak, gammon, sausages and egg for her and chicken and mushrooms in garlic sauce for me.

All in all, the perfect day from beginning to end.

I’ve been meaning to talk about this subject for a while now but the words just wouldn’t come.

An incident yesterday has given me the perfect beginning to work from, however.

You see, yesterday, for the first time in a long time, we attempted a bit of regular sex. We cuddled in bed, petted, kissed, played, the usual. And, as usual, brat felt the need to bring herself offas part of foreplay, which is a reasonable guarantee of vaginal tightness once the actual penetration starts…

Only, I found myself feeling strangely detatched from the whole thing. Oh, watching her play with herself and cum was horny, as always, but when we moved into the missionary position, I found “little Fitz” didn’t want to play ball. Frustrating? Just a little.

We tried a couple of different positions, a bit of light bondage, but still the little guy refused to show any interest - and ruth be told, I wasn’t getting any stimulation mentally, either.

Frustration turned rapidly to annoyance, so before it became resentment on both of our parts, I called a halt, let brat know how I was feeling and asked her if the same thign was going on in her head.

This is where things get interesting on an intellectual level.

It tuns out that we’ve spent so long now using sex as a tool of my dominance over her that she’s approaching the act of sex as a duty, the goal of which is to please her Master.

At this point I was flashing up really negative images of the sex our grandparents used to have…the woman performing a duty to the male, while gaining no pleasure out of the act herself. The only thing is, I know she’s enjoying the sex we have. This isn’t some intangible stereotypical “knowledge” that all those deluded teenage boyfriends seem to have: we’ve been together nearly ten years and I know pretty much all of her physical signs of arousal and enjoyment without a shadow of a doubt.

She told me that she loves being told when to cum and when not to, that even though she’s disappointed when I don’t allow her to cum when I do, she is fine with it, as she gets enough satisfaction from the knowledge that she’s served me well, but I’m finding myself in a dilemma.

It’s a little bit harder than I thought to wave goodbye to ye olde vanilla fuck days.

Don’t get me wrong, the way we have sex now…or more precisely, given what she told me yesterday, the way I fuck her now is astronomically good for both of us, but just yesterday for those few minutes, I missed the good old days.

Now, I know that some of you must be horrified by the attitudes and truths I’m talking about here - we’ve taken good, natural, one-on-one sex and replaced it with an act of ultimate Dominance and submission. You may think I’ve taken away her natural sex drive and replaced it with something unnatural, calculated and cold.

I’m wondering about that myself. I think we’re going to have to spend a little time relearning how to simply enjoy ourselves in bed together. Now, we have had these occasions before, where oen or the other of us just hasn’t been up for a good bit of nookie, but something happened a little while later which put a whole new spin on what’s going on in my girls’ head.

After our little discussion, we lay down side by side again, snoozing and comfortable and happily entwined. After a while, as she lay there on her back, I shifted around and began to gently run my hands over her body, teasing nipples, tracing the outline of her stomach, running a finger up and down the inside of her thigh.

As her mouth parted a little, I placed a gentle kiss on her lips and whispered to her that I didn’t want her to say a word or move around, I just wanted her to absorb what I did to her. I oh-so-carefully began pinching at her nipples, tracing my fingers closer to her pussy lips, still running gentle hands over her body and planting gentle kisses on her pouting mouth.

She parted her legs a little to allow me easier access to her pussy and I dipped a finger down towards her entrance…

To find an engorged, dripping wet, well and truly urned on pussy waiting for me!

Encouraged, I moved to her clit and began circling with a couple of fingers around the piercing she has through the hood. She arched her back a little and a small moan escaped from her, so I took a chance and carefully, but none too gently pinched the hood of her clit between two fingers.

More moaning, and on inspection, more moisture…

“How does that feel?”

“It’s uncomfortable”

“You seem to be enjoying it though…”

“Mmm…!”

I moved on from her clit, pinching the lips of her pussy hard, to little visible effect, but in terms of arousal, it was definitely having a more than positive effect. I left the erotic torture of her pssy for a whlile and went back to giving her nipples some attention, twisting, biting and pulling on them to great effect. When I returned below, I found a widened, even more engorged, even wetter and much hornier place waiting for me.

Eagerly now, she thrust her hips up against my fingers as I swirled them three-abreast around her clit, flicking and pinching around that most sensetive spot, pulling gently on her clit bar. Her breath started coming in the ragged gasps that I usually associate with a very close orgasm and I pinched hard on her clit. Her head went back involuntarily and she moaned the deep moan of impending climax.

“Please, keep playing…”

I let her go and gently carried on running a couple of fingers over her drenched clit. About ten seconds later, to my wonder, she stared convulsing and begging for her climax. There was no chance for me to give permission, though, because she was almost immediately overcome with a shattering, lengthy and loud orgasm!

Before it subsided - which took all of a minute or so - I pinched again on her clit, which made her almost lift herself from the bed, cry out and cum hard again…and then again…and then…little aftershock orgasms rippled through her as she lay in my arms, spent and a little surprised.

“So…I see what it is you were after today, then, girl. I should have just spanked you and taken you over the sofa!”

“Mmmmm…!”

I had a lovely conversation with a nice man on a BDSM forum I’ve started frequenting this evening.

It’s a bit of a long read, but I’d love for you to cast your eye over it to see all the nice things this man had to say about yours truly. Oh, and you can be privvy to one of my favourite pastimes…

Winding up unsuspecting egotistical idiots.

Enjoy!

I suffer from gout, which, when it hits, cripples me.

This week has seen a pretty violent attack, with my right knee in almost permanent excruciating agony.

Don’t let anyone tell you a Dom is a Dom because he can’t take the pain he dishes out, OK? I’d put gout up there with any punishment! Oh yeah, and there ain’t no safeword, either.

Well, ranting aside, by Sunday I’d ecovered enough to stand without wincing, so it was with - well, not exactly wild abandon, but cautious care that I sent the kids upstairs to watch Pokemon (Oh wonderful God of Children that can use DVD’s unassisted!), ordered brat over the arm of the sofa and took up my position by her side, one hand firmly in the small of her back, one hand delivering the stingy, sexy spanks that make her virtually squirt with desire.

Flushed with my success at risin from my deathbed, I succumbed to the swelling in my shorts, freed the beast and slid into my very hot little slave.

It was all of five seconds before she was asking permission to cum. Well, what could I do but indulge her? There was a real fear that she’d either flood the lounge or burn my poor cock off if I denied her any longer, so I allowed her her release - and what a release! Five minutes later she was still quivering from the self-same orgasm, resting full length on the sofa arm (we have one of those high-sided suites - the perfect height for spanking and - as it turns out - fucking), feet off the ground, teeth grinding from the effort of keeping quiet, pussy deeply pumped by her rapidly tiring and ecstatically not hurting Master.

Normally I can last for a while, but the situation was just far too much for my poor unwell brain and came deep inside her in just a few minutes. After cleaning up and unlocking the lounge door (Thank the God of locking doors, while you’re at it), she snuggled into the crook of my arm with
joy - and obviously up for more.

Well, I wasn’t done spanking her, even if I’m past the point - at 33 years of age - of being able to repeat a sexual performance without a written invitation and two days’ advance warning, so she found herself blissfully thrown over that armrest and thoroughly spanked quite a few times during the rest of the day.

As it happens, brat actually did manage to bring me to another orgasm, but I blame her red hot little pussy and ass for that. How can she expect me not to cum like mad when she makes such a terrific target and gets so incredibly horny at the drop of a hat…erm, hand?

All in all, a spectacular day - and another step on the journey to truly unleash my brats’ deep dark inner slut.

OK, not so deep, not so particularly dark, but she hates admitting that her pussy tells truths about her desires that she can’t accept in her head.

As a good Master, I’m obliged to help in any way I can, aren’t I?

(Insert evil chuckle here)

Thursay was the first day in about two months that we’ve had any time totally to ourselves, so as soon as the kids were safely packed off to school, we dropped, barely conscious onto the sofa and resolved to spend the day quietly relaxing.

Things didn’t happen like that, fortunately.

About five minutes into the day, we retired to bed and for a while did nothing but revel in eachothers’ closeness. It’s not often we get to snuggle up together as comfortably and as relaxed as that, so we took advantage of the time we had.

As they do in those situations, one thing led to another and soon we were kissing, fondling, writhing together, slowly getting hotter. She sighed with contented pleasure when I finally bushed her pussy lips, bucking her hips towards my fingers in a completely wanton sign of what she wanted.

Nudging her legs gently apart, I dipped a finger in her wetness and carefully began circling her clitoris, just as she loves it. Soon, she was laid flat on her back, my finger playing with the spo I know will eventually get her off. Her breathing became more urgent and the delicious writhing under my hand became more desperate as her excitement increased.

“Please sir, let me carry on…”

She replaced my fingers with her own and settled into a stroking rhythm which threatened to take her over the edge in seconds. With deep lust in her eyes, she looked up at me, devouring the sight of my enraptured gaze as she played with her own throbbing clit. Suddenly, with a gasp, she let go of her clit and clasped her hands to her chest.

“Keep playing”
“Can I cum, sir? Please?”
“Just play - and don’t stop.”

My order was rewarded with a deep groan as her finger resumed its work. brat may only cum with my permission, but this time I had no intention of giving it to her. However, I wasn’t about to let her stop playing with herself, either. I wanted to see what was more powerful - her need for orgasm, or her desire not to get caned.

In short order, I had my answer. Suddenly her body tensed and she began to beg for permission to cum. I leaned in close to her ear and started to whisper,

“Kep playing, brat. You’re going to cum without permission and when you do I’m going to cane my dirty little girl…”

Well, that fair pushed her over the edge and with wracking gasps and yells, she came on her finger. Again and again.

When her orgasms had subsided, I flipped her over and swiftly delivered a couple of good hard spanks to her writhing arse, then flipped her back onto her back and thrust my hand down between her legs again, to be rewarded with a shuddering aftershock orgasm for my attentions.

For a few minutes, I relished her panting shame at having cum so wantonly, knowing she was going to be punished for it, then I stacked the pillows in the middle of the bed and she obediently lay across them, bum high in the air in order to meet the cane.

With each stroke, I ordered her to repeat a different phrase, each designed to gt her to admit the horny feelings she was in the throes of submitting to:

“I love being a bad girl”
“I want to be caned”
“Being spanked makes me wet”

…each followed by a stroke of the cane, which made her arse dance beautifully.

True to form, though, silly brat had trouble coming to terms with her inner masochist, refusing to say the phrases properly most of the time - and earning herself quite a few extra strokes in the process. She had a problem with one phrase in particular - “I love the pain”

Despite all the evidence to the contrary - the playful attempts to escape my clutches, the giggling submission as each hard stroke fell, the thoroughly evil giveaway squelching that accompanied my massaging of her well whipped bottom - she wouldn’t say the words until I’d landed a number of swift, stingy lashes squarely on her by then well striped buttocks.

Then, just to prove the point, I demonstrated just how much she loved the pain by dipping a couple of fingers into her dripping wet pussy and bringing her to a shattering g-spot orgasm or two almost instantly.

Unable to contain my own lust any longer, I then ordered her onto her knees and sunk my cock into her thoroughly betrayed spanko depths, ploughing away at her and bringing her to shattering climax after climax, each one signalled by the phrase “I’m your slave, master”, which never fails to double the intensity of the following orgasm.

I’m so proud of my dirty, horny, bratty little spanko wench, I really am.

Our play session ended with us both crashing to the bed, dripping in sweat and thoroughly satiated, her still protesting her innocense and me suggesting that maybe now she can admit more freely to those deep dark desires she undoubtedly gets whenever my cane falls across her backside.

She’ll try, apparently…

“So, can you still feel my hand on your arse?”
“Mmmm, more than that…”
“Can you still feel my cock in you?”
“Yep…”
“Oh, you’re so going to get it later,”
“Thank you!”

Rewind eleven hours…

brat works part time as a Holistic Therapist, working either from the clients’ home, or her parents’ living room. Due partly to the end of the school holidays and therefore people having more time and money to spare, she’s been quite busy this past week, which has been good for her bank balance, but terrible for her state of mind.

Not only does she take on other peoples’ worries very easily as a side-effect of her job, but she’s hd to spend some extended time around her father, who is, quite frankly, arsehole enough to make a saint curse.

As a result, she’s been getting more and more stressed out about a number of things and breaking more and more rules on her slave contract.

Yesterday, for example, she managed to wrack up six demerits, each usually equating to a stroke of the cane (we’re just starting out, remember, and I’ve learnt my lesson when it comes to being too hard on her…). I decided to get up close and personal with that naughty bum, so when she bent over the arm of the sofa to recieve her punishment, I decided on a good hard hand spanking. The first couple she managed to stay quiet for, but the next few were accompanied by random ouches and gasps. Music to my ears!

I let up on her before she out and out revolted on me and to my surprise instead of sulking, she bounced to my side and snuggled up on my lap - partly, I suspect, to save sitting on her stinging bottom.

You see, we really haven’t been at this long and I’ve been concentrating on yummy spankings and harsh canings. Well, judging by last night, it really should be the other way around.

“I think I needed that,”
“Reeeally?”
“Mmmm, thank you sir. I’m not so stressed anymore.”

Bliss!

We had a little chat after that and it turns out that, as I’d been suspecting, she’s having trouble admitting to needing a spanking - it apparently comes down to her having problems admiting that she needs a little pain. After a good cuddle and chat, she agreed to be a bit more communicative and not be scared of her darker desires.

Now fast forward to earlier this morning…

Another early start for us all - a school day, obviously, but also brat’s busiest day at work and the most time she has to spend around her father. As a result, the school run was a little fraught.

Halfway through the morning, not long before we left the house, she leaned over to me and whispered quietly in my ear,

“I think I’m going to need a spank later”

Well, OK then.

Half an hour later we were back in the house, kids dropped off, work bag packed. All that needed doing was a little tidying up - or so she thought. When she moved to start clearing the morning detritus away, I stopped her with a word, sat down on the sofa and patted my lap,

“Over you go, brat” (or words to that effect, anyway - I was a bit taken up in the moment)

And over she went, like a good girl.

I’m afraid I laid in just a touch, each whack eliciting a variation on ouch, oof, ahh, that hurts, or most satisfyingly, a well spanked grunting towards the end.

I let up on her after about five minutes, at which point she draped herself around me and slumped in chilled out bliss, squirming - so I thought - because of her bright red arse. A couple of minutes later, though, she looked up at me and with more than a little desperation in her voice, asked permission to adjourn to the bedroom for some - ahem - personal pleasure…

OK, her little OTK session has apparently got her all hot and bothered and her pussy was in need of some attention.

Seems like my tender ministrations on her backside had finally had the desired effect!

After she’d masturbated, proclaiming herself my slave and my toy at the point of orgasm (what could be better, I ask you), I delivered a couple more firm whacks to her writhing bum, massaged a couple of aftershock climaxes out of her, then ordered her onto her knees for some hard and horny fucking.

At which point there was a beep from outside as her lift turned up.

Arse, fuck, bollocks and shite!

We both scrambled downstairs and dressed swiftly. She still had her “Brat 24/7″ badge on that I’d told her to pin on before the school run, and just before leaving the house, she raised her skirt and wiggled it at me, all horny and sassy - so I gave it a couple of whacks to remember me by.

And apparently it’s had the desired result, as the snippet of phone call at the start of this post testifies.

Hopefully we have the next couple of days completely to ourselves, as our youngest finally begins fulltime infants’ school. I may spend the seven free hours each day helping brat to thoroughly explore her inner spanko painslut.

Good idea?