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marialauridsenswingme2013

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I'll start with the executive summary.
I wanted to have a submissive wife. (profile AbeLincoln) I now have a wife. I whip her once a week. I love her.
I wanted to add a slave to our household. (profile MasterWifeServan) I wanted someone to take care of the household, and I wanted someone who didn't just defer to me but was devoted to me. I haven't been able to find such a person.
So now I'm thinking I'll handle the household cleaning part by hiring someone. And rather than finding a 2nd person to submit more deeply, my relationship with my wife can morph.
Here comes the crux. My relnship with my wife is too important to experiment with. If I slap her across the face, will she respond with outragebut an undercurrent of comfort and arousal, or will I be divorced? There are people out there who love to be slapped across the face in the context of submitting to a powerful master. I'll experiment with one of them.
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What I am proposing is very much sessions. I will not bring a bottle of wine. I will not tell you I love you. I may tell you, you have very nice skin. Followed by, Wow, look at that red hand mark.
I will not fuck you. I will not (or, I don't plan to) cum in your presence. I will get naked with you, and I will probably be erect the whole time. But this is my little reminder to myself, Hey, you are married. (Seems very Bill Clintonesque, doesn't it?) I'll probably masturbate furiously when I get home.
Hey, the executive summary is longer than the body. Don't you wish I was longer than your body?
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And now, the action items. (Have I been to a lot of meetings, or what?)
If you are submissive, and up for having your buttons pushed in a good way, contact me. Especially, if you need some abuse to clear the way to get aroused, contact me. I'll slap your face, welt your skin, violate your holes, and leave you relaxed and content.

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1/16/2016 10:08:40 AM
I think this video is extremely hot. 

http://xhamster.com/movies/3444478/torture_hanging_crucifixion.html

Do you think so?


1/24/2015 7:37:48 AM
I had this dream.  Copy it to your journal, and add to it.  Add how the submissive feels, if you have ideas in that area. 

I put a ratcheting device in our dungeon.  Its end is pointed, but not sharp.  With a lot of pressure, it can penetrate flesh. 

I tell you to put it into your asshole, and walk backward.  It is anchored at the floor, but it can tilt upward as you walk back.  It can't go back down.  It's a one way motion. 

I kiss you, stroke you, and urge you back. 

Eventually, you are in a fair amount of pain, and the tip of the long dildo is in your midsection. 

We keep going.  Eventually, the shaft passes through your throat, and entered your soft palate, going into your brain.  You look at me and whimper, and I stroke you and pet you as your are impaled. 

Eventually, your impalement is complete.  The tip of the dildo is resting on the inside of your skull.  

I fuck you, kiss you, we enjoy each other. 

I take a hot knife.  It parts flesh using heat.  It's not sharp.  But there is very little bleeding. 

I open your belly from your ribcage to your belly button.  I kiss you and caress you as I reach inside and stroke your intestines and your lungs. 


1/1/2014 11:06:46 AM

I have realized something.  I was trying to keep the slave at arms length.  Not mess up the relationship between me and the wife.  Not get too close to the slave.

 

But that's wrong.  Everybody, slave and free, is in it to be known and valued.  Even if they do it by offering their backs to be whipped.  Even if they do it by accepting backs for whipping.  Accepting the gift while maintaining reserve will never work.

 

So I'm abandoning that.  Slave, I will take you all the way in.  You will matter to me, like my own flesh.  I will never abandon you.


8/7/2013 4:53:39 AM

From that same book.  Is this not a beautiful picture of the Real Situation?  Between a submissive and her dominant, or between a worshiper and his God.

 

"Jane had gone into the garden to think. She accepted what the Director had said, yet it seemed to her nonsensical. "Religion " ought to mean a realm in which her haunting female fear of being treated as a thing, an object of barter and desire and possession, would be set permanently at rest, and what she called her " true self" would soar upwards and expand in some freer and purer world. For still she thought that "Religion " was a kind of exhalation or a cloud of incense, something steaming up from specially gifted souls towards a receptive heaven. Then, quite sharply, it occurred to her that the Director never talked about Religion, nor did the Dimbles nor Camilla. They talked about God. They had no picture in their minds of some mist steaming upward: rather of strong, skilful hands thrust down to make and mend, perhaps even to destroy. Supposing one were a thing after all-a thing designed and invented by Someone Else and valued for qualities quite different from what one had decided to regard as one's true self? Supposing all those people who, from the bachelor uncles down to Mark and Mother Dimble, had infuriatingly found her sweet and fresh when she wanted them to find her also interesting and important, had all along been simply right and perceived the sort of thing she was ? Supposing Maleldil on this subject agreed with them and not with her? For one moment she had a ridiculous and scorching vision of a world in which God Himself would never understand, never take her with full seriousness. Then, at one particular corner of the gooseberry patch, the change came.
What awaited her there was serious to the degree of sorrow and beyond. There was no form nor sound. The mould under the bushes, the moss on the path, and the little brick border were not visibly changed. But they were changed. A boundary had been crossed. She had come into a world, or into a Person, or into the presence of a Person. Something expectant, patient, inexorable, met her with no veil or protection between. In the closeness of that contact she perceived at once that the Director's words had been entirely misleading. This demand which now pressed upon her was not, even by analogy, like any other demand. It was the origin of all right demands and contained them. In its light you could understand them; but from them you could know nothing of it. There was nothing, and never had been anything, like this. And now there was nothing except this. Yet also, everything had been like this: only by being like this had anything existed. In this height and depth and breadth the little idea of herself which she had hitherto called me dropped down and vanished, unfluttering, into bottomless distance, like a bird in space without air. The name me was the name of a being whose existence she had never suspected, a being that did not yet fully exist but which was demanded. . It was a person (not the person she had thought) yet also a thing-a made thing, made to please Another and in Him to please all others-a thing being made at this very moment, without its choice, in a shape it had never dreamed of. And the making went on amidst a kind of splendour or sorrow or both, whereof she could not tell whether it was in the moulding hands or in the kneaded lump."

 


8/7/2013 4:44:37 AM

One of my favorite books seems to me to be talking about Dominance and Submission.  I doubt that any of the book's academic reviewers, of which there are many, viewed it in that light.  Here is a description of what people in this website call Natural Dominance. 

 

"How did other people – people like Denniston or Dimble – find it so easy to saunter through the world with all their muscles relaxed and a careless eye roving the horizon, bubbling over with fancy and humour, sensitive to beauty, not continually on their guard and not needing to be?  What was the secret of that fine, easy laughter which he could not by any efforts imitate?  Everything about them was different.  They could not even fling themselves into chairs without suggesting by the very posture of their limbs a certain lordliness, a leonine indolence.  There was elbow-room in their lives, as there had never been in his.  They were Hearts: he was only a Spade."


1/20/2013 8:01:23 AM

Orient

 

You are turning me

like someone turning a globe in his hand,

and yes, I have another side

like a China no one,

not even me, has ever seen.

So describe to me what's there,

say what you are looking at

and I will close my eyes

so I can see it too,

the oxcarts and all the lively flags.

I love the sound of your volice

like a little saxophone

telling me what I could never know

unless I dug a hole all the way down

through the core of myself.

 

This is written by Billy Collins.  It's in the voice of my slave, not my own voice, but that's okay.


12/31/2012 9:04:05 AM

Here's a typical day in my household, living with me as my slave.

Throughout, the whole thing doesn't make sense if it's just a bunch of actions.  If it's an act of service performed out of love, it will be satisfying and joyful.

If you're a visual person, this seat belt commercial may communicate the idea.  http://www.youtube.com/embed/h-8PBx7isoM

  Putting on a seatbelt is just another boring thing to do, if that's all it is.  If it's an act of love toward your family, it becomes meaningful and joyful.

You get up at maybe 5:30.  You get breakfast ready for me and Joan, and put the coffee on.  At 6:00, you come in and wake me up.  (Joan works nights and will be home between 7 and 8.) 

You serve me breakfast.  We discuss how our nights were.  Maybe you sit down and join me for breakfast, maybe you don't; I'm not sure. 

I take you downstairs, tie you to the rack on your stomach, and whip you.  Not so hard, not so lightly.  Just so we both feel like Master and slave.

Then we go back upstairs.  Maybe you shave me in the old-fashioned way, with a straight razor.  You lay out my clothes for me, and hand me my lunch.  I caress your face and your neck, and go out the door.

Joan arrives home.  You serve her breakfast.  Beyond that I don't know what happens with Joan.  Maybe she whips you.  Maybe she enjoys your company and the two of your exchange quips.  Joan is quite personable.  Joan will go to bed around noon.

All day, you'll be home and on your own.  Now is the time for "service rituals."  Little tufts of dog hair collect on the floor boards.  The mail comes in faster than we can sort it and deal with it.  All these things you can do are acts of love given to your master.  As long as we talk and look into each other's eyes and discuss it as I'm whipping you, we will experience it that way.

I figure nakedness as a slave is good.  But there are certain constraints.  No answering the door "Hello, Sailor!"  We'll work it out.

When I get home, hopefully at six, you serve me dinner.  When Joan gets up between 7 and 8, you serve her dinner, also.  Probably I sit and keep Joan company as she eats.

There are no required activities in the evening.  Discuss the events of the day.  Watch television.  If anything concerns me, or concerns you, we will discuss it.  I want to aggressively eradicate any areas of doubt or uncertainty.  Part of the advantage of being a slave is that you don't have any stresses.

Sometimes, I will wash you before I put you to bed.  You are my possession, and as I wash my car, I wash my slave.  Sometimes, I will ask you to provide body service to me.  Washing me.  Washing each other all the time would occupy too much time, but we'll know that I am your body washer and you are mine.

I figure I would make you cum before bed.  Some women can go long periods without sex comfortably, but most can't.  You are my appliance.  Gotta keep the appliance in good operating order.

My agreement with my wife is that I won't fuck you, or cum with you.  She has a long history of being cheated on, and she is very sensitive in this area.  Perhaps some day in the future she'll relax and think "Oh.  She's just a slave."  But perhaps not.

Bed would normally be a regular bed, in a regular bedroom, near ours.  Once in a while, it will be good to bed you down in a cage beside the dog's cage in the basement.  Because that is your natural place.  But it's important that you get well rested, so you are useful to me, and happy.

Well, I'm not entirely happy with what I've written down, but I'm an engineer.  We get something to kind of work, and then improve it as we go along.


12/31/2012 9:03:32 AM

This not the best place to start, but this has been on my mind today.

Some people like to be suspended.  Some like to be stretched out.  I like to whip people.

I'd like to make a barrel of staves.  You probably have seen giant beer barrels.  The knock a tap into them with a big hammer and enjoy the beer.

If a person were stretched over the barrel, with their wrists fastened, they would be nicely suspended and stretched out.  Every vertabrae would be at a little angle compared to the next vertebrae.  Every muscle would be taut.

If a person enjoys the drama of a whip, or even a whippy stick, this is an ideal situation.  The slave needs to be whipped regularly.  It helps the slave, and the master, to get firmly in their mind:  "I'm a slave."  "I'm a master."  The whole rest of their relationship will be better because of it.

The thing is, sometimes you will want to have other shapes.  For instance, an inclined plane composed of slats might be nice.  If someone has a crucifixion fetish, they can be crucified not too severely at 45 degrees, and crucified quite harshly at 85.  Suspension is always a problem what with circulation problems, nerve damage, etc. 

I can make a bunch of slats shaped like the letter I with a very long upright and a very short crosspiece at each end.  I can put holes in the crosspieces, and join them with bolts and a wing nut.  They can take and hold any shape.

I can make a stable frame to attach the slat sculpture at a few points with a longer bolt and a wing nut.  We can stretch you out in any shape that your heart, or my heart, desires.

There is room for this assemblage in my basement.  I would concentrate on your back and ass other than on special occasions.  I would love to whip your tits (if you have tits) or your cock (if you have a cock) but over time a person's skin would at least thicken, and a beautiful slave is, well, a thing of beauty.

The point of all this is not technique or equipment.  It is relationship.  It is difficult for a person to submit entirely unless they are not just told, but experience, being treated like a thing for punishment.


12/31/2012 9:00:43 AM

I'm talking to a couple of submissives and potential slaves, and it seems to me that people are having trouble envisioning what living with me would be like.  And that's my job, as the master, to define how life will go.  It's not their job, as a slave, to try to figure it out. 

Also, people are more likely to commit to me if they can see where they're going.  It's more difficult to take a leap in the dark.

So I thought I would write down what I mean, who I am, where I am going, and where I am taking my slave.  Part of it will be story, part of it will be narrative, part of it will be philosophical discussion. 

I'll write a little bit whenever I have time, and send the portion to people I am talking to.  Eventually, if it works out well, maybe I'll make it part of my journal.

If you are receiving this, I find you interesting, both by personality and by circumstances.  Feel valued.  I guess that runs counter to some D/s culture, but tough.  Yeah, you're a lowly worm, and I'm a divine being.  But you're a very attractive and beautiful worm.


10/10/2012 10:49:27 PM

My second photo I find a little disturbing, but I'm including it because I also find it arousing.


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snugglesMS
 
 Age: 98
 United Kingdom