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MyMasterslilone
Pan Female, 25, Brisbane, Australia 
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MyMasterslilone
Master and His lilone seek female subs to play with.
10/3/2010 6:32:40 AM: Just when i think i have turned it off... Just when i think there is no point, no chance, no hope, no need...Just when i think another brick has been added; complete, reinforced, insurmountable...There is You.Compatible insanities?  Complicated, frustrating, peculiar, crazy, against the odds, could it work?  Will it work?  What the hell are we doing?Think less.  Don't analyse.  Don't plan.Enjoy.Interesting, exciting, revealing, passionate, fullfilling, uh-may-zing, fun.And then, there is You.Three words.

9/28/2010 12:30:16 AM: This is my latest journal entry. Please be forewarned, it is very long (equivalent to 5 pages in Microsoft Word), but thankyou in advance for your time if you do choose to read it.  Any feedback is welcome.-lil one.P.S.  I have had to post it in two parts; below is Part One. Part One.Bad Girl.I’ve been a bad girl.  :(  Earlier this week Daddy set a task— I was to write a new journal entry describing the night He took my arse for the first time, which coincidently was also the night He made me cum harder than I have ever cum before.  Ever.But I’ve been bad.  He set the task on Tuesday night.  It is now Sunday and I am only now starting it.  This is the second time this week I’ve disappointed Him.  Why am I being so disobedient this week?  The punishment for my first transgression was so unpleasant; I’m still trying to fend off the ramifications from it.  So why would I invoke more?  I don’t like being punished.  And I *hate* disappointing Him.  I want to please Him!  Being a good girl pleases Him.  Disobeying Him does not.  I love being His good lil girl! It’s not as though I’m deliberately *trying* to disobey Him.  I’ve been so tired.  So, so tired.  My boss even pulled me into his office last week to ask if I was feeling okay, because I’ve been looking so pale and ill lately.  Heh, no, I’m not feeling okay.  And I don’t know if Daddy truly appreciates that.  My body is pretty fucked up at the moment.  It will get better, but it’s going to take some time and some medication that makes me feel worse before I feel any better. But then again, if I’m truly honest with myself, are these just excuses?  I could have done my journal entry on Friday when I finished work at midday.  But I chose to lay down for a couple of hours, then do some final shopping for stuff for the music festival on Saturday, then enjoy a few glasses of red while I played around with my makeup and accessories for the next day (I know, that’s so ridiculously girly and *stupid*!  But I did finally determine that no matter how hard I try, my skin tone simply cannot pull off obnoxiously-pink eyeshadow... :S ).And now He is (understandably) very, very displeased with me.  So why have I been so disobedient?  I don’t want to be a bad girl, really, but perhaps on a subconscious level I am trying to push my luck and test His tolerance?  Try His patience?  Like a friggin two-year-old, dancing along that fine line-- exploring, evaluating, establishing what I can and cannot get away with.  Oh, I don’t know.  All I do know is that deep down I really, truly *do* want to be His good lil girl, lavished with praise and feelings of fulfilment when I make Him proud.  When I please Him.  When I submit to and serve Him. When I successfully execute some new and delightfully naughty act of debauchery for Him....Sigh.  But for the moment, I am not allowed to contact Him until I have finished my task.  So I really ought to get started... 

9/28/2010 12:05:56 AM: Part Two.The Shower.One night, several weeks ago, Daddy’s housemate was away for the evening and we found ourselves home alone.  Unfortunately, I’d been working long hours and had been getting very little sleep that week, so I was mentally and physically exhausted.  Daddy knew that I was utterly wrecked, so rather than make the most of this rare opportunity to play with the whole house at His disposal, He sent me into the bathroom straight after dinner to have a shower and get ready for bed.  I was a little disappointed that we apparently weren’t going to play, especially as this was one of the very few nights that we were entirely alone and I would be allowed to make some noise.  But I’d be lying if I didn’t also confess to a little relief at being given an early night.  As I showered, the hot water soothing on my skin and the steam fogging up the glass, I thought of Him and smiled.  I'm so thankful to have such a strong yet caring Daddy; He challenges me, pushes my limits, opens my mind and body to new experiences.  Yet He is very aware that whatever He asks (instructs?), I will do, and He is careful not to “break” His favourite toy; He knows when my limits have been truly reached (well, for one night, anyway!).The bathroom door opened and I looked up as Daddy stepped in.  My smile broadened. I love it when He’s in the same room as me.  I love watching, listening, observing, learning, and understanding Him.  I love the challenge of trying to pre-empt His next need, His next want, His next desire.  Granted, I’m still learning (and holey moley have I still got a lot to learn!!), but I get such joyful satisfaction when He asks me for something, even if it’s just the chilli sauce for His dinner, and I already have it ready for Him.  Geez, I love pleasing Him with those little things.  Those little things that no one else (previous partners of mine and other third parties included) would have noticed, or recognised, or appreciated.  But He does.I watched through the translucent glass of the shower as Daddy walked to the sink and cleaned His teeth.  As the last of my shampoo disappeared down the drain, He turned towards me and opened the shower door.  His fly was undone.“You know what to do, lil one.”I grinned, dropping quickly to my knees and freeing Him from the constraints of His pants.  I hungrily took Him in my mouth and began to work my magic (modest, huh?).  He has trained me so well, and I know exactly how to please Him best.The slippery wetness between my legs was no longer from the soap bubbles alone.  The taste, the feel, even just the thought of Him in my mouth and down my throat—well, let’s just go ahead and add it to the already ridiculously long list of things I love :PI wanted to touch myself so bad, but I knew better than to stop, so mouth (throat?) filled with His cock, I mumbled my request. “eehhh gghhhaageee mmfffaaa mmeesshhh guuuhh mmuuhhhgah”I’m sure it’s during moments like these that God just looks down at us and laughs.I was instructed to repeat myself without His cock blocking my words (haha, puts a whole new meaning to the phrase “cock-blocking”, doesn’t it...), so I pulled myself away, looked up at Him with pleading eyes, and tentatively asked once more:“Please Daddy, may I touch myself?”He smiled.  “Of course you may, lil one.”Oh, He is so, so good to me.I quickly filled my throat with Him once more, hungry to take Him as deep and as hard as I could to express my gratitude, as my hand found my dripping cunt.  Oh, I was so, so wet.  Damnit if I don’t always get stupidly wet when he’s in my mouth.  I don’t understand why, but then again, nor do I particularly care to.  All that matters is that I do.  :)I can’t actually remember whether I made Him cum or not, however I do remember Him instructing me to cum. But as close as I could get, and as much as I wanted to, I just *could not* take myself over the edge there on my knees in the shower.  I broke down, eyes welling with tears of frustration.It’s annoying as all hell, but it’s a quirk of mine.  Another one of God’s crazy little jokes.  I cannot for the life of me cum with my legs bent; I simply have to have them out straight.  Perhaps it’s something to do with the tensing of certain muscles, yadda yadda yadda?  Meh, regardless, it’s *freakin annoying*.  Daddy understood this, and told me to stand up.  He made me hold the top of the shower frame with my left hand as I touched my clit with my right.  He’s just so damn perceptive-- it wasn’t until Him that I learnt that I cum easier (harder?) with at least one arm/hand above my head, as if in a position of bondage.  Geez, aren’t quirks funny?He began torturing my tits, pinching and twisting my nipples, slapping my breasts.  Oh, it hurt so good.  Without thinking, I heard the words escape my lips:“Please Daddy, please can you fuck me with your fingers?”I’m not sure where this came from.  Actually, yes, I do know.  A past partner of mine had, uh, “premature performance” issues, but we overcame it with the clever use of finger-fucking.  Mmm, the g-spot is such a fabulous, fabulous place...  ;)Daddy obliged, and started fucking me with two of His fingers.  Oh.  My.  Gosh.  All I can clearly remember is finally being pushed over the edge, collapsing on the shower floor in the delicious midst of the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had.  I was completely lost in it.  Totally immersed in another world.  Gone. Daddy asked if I was crying, and I realised I was.  Wow, what a release!He helped me to my feet again in the shower, and as I recovered, He chuckled quietly to Himself.  I caught a glimpse of His bemused smile, and queried it.He said I looked divine.Divine!!Of all the partners I’ve had, of all the suitors I’ve ever known, He is the first to have ever called me beautiful, let alone divine.It’s the most overwhelmingly wonderful complement I have ever received.  I still smile and feel all tingly inside when I think about it.  :)He continued to shower as I leaned, recovering, against the cool tiles.  Soon enough He turned towards me and I was instructed to get back on my knees and make Him hard again.  I smiled, still a little foggy, and happily obeyed.  Feeling Him harden in my mouth, I heard His words from above me:“lil one, when I say ‘go’, you will get up on your feet as quick as you can and bend over at the hips, legs straight, hands on the ground, and arse towards Me.  Do you understand?”I mumbled and nodded, ‘yes’.  Moments later, He gave the command:“Okay, lil one.  Go.”I quickly jumped to my feet and turned my back to him, bending at the hips and placing my hands on the tiled floor of the shower in front of me.  The water ran down my back, down my neck, into my eyes and up my nose so that it was difficult to breathe.  As Daddy prepared Himself behind me, my thoughts drifted...I had felt this sensation, the water up my nose and drowning my sinuses, before.  Not for many, many years, but I had definitely felt it before.My thoughts took me back to when I was a kid, playing in our family swimming pool.  Pretending we were ballerinas and synchronised swimmers, we twisted ourselves into forward- and reverse-somersaults underwater.  We would compete to see how many we could do in a row, the water filling and flooding our sinuses, until finally we burst up through the surface once more, our mouths gasping for breath, trying to fill our lungs with the air our noses could not.  It was now that I felt that same, water-logged sensation, though admittedly it was within an entirely different context...Suddenly, I felt Daddy behind me.  Then I felt Him in me, filling my cunt with His wonderful cock.  Ooh, I do *love* having Him in me.He started to fuck me, pounding into me, pushing me into the shower wall opposite.  I struggled to remain standing in place, and He commanded that I push back.  Gasping for breath under the curtain of water, I gathered my fading strength and tried as hard as I could to push back.  He was so strong!  Time and time again I felt my head strike the tiles opposite, so time and time again I tried even harder to push back.  I’m not sure how much time passed before I felt a new and different sensation, and soon realised it was His finger at my arse applying lube.“I am going to fuck your arse tonight, lil girl.”I nodded, trying not to think, determined only to obey.  “Yes Daddy.”Suddenly I felt His finger enter me.  It was strange, but not entirely unpleasant.  I focused on remaining standing/bent over in place, pushing back whenever He pushed into me as we continued to fuck.Again, I’m not sure how much time passed, but soon enough I felt Him pull out of both my arse and my cunt.  I remained frozen in place, gasping for breath through the water, every muscle in my already weary body aching with fatigue.I felt the coldness of the lube being applied once more, and then He was behind me.  And then, He was in me.At first I wasn’t actually sure if He really was in my arse—it had that same “full” feeling as if He was in my cunt.  Yet it felt different.  Strange.  Not bad, but strange.I think I could detect a little pride in His voice as He spoke.  “My cock is in your arse, lil one.  You are no longer an anal virgin.  How does it feel?”  I replied honestly,“I don’t know, Daddy.  I’m not sure.”Slowly, He started to fuck my arse.  Gentle at first, He soon picked up the pace and began to thrust into me with more force.'Push back lil one.”I obeyed, gathering together the very last of my remaining strength.  My body screamed with exhaustion, my mind blank except to focus on one purpose-- to push back.I don’t remember what, if anything, instigated it.  I was even starting to enjoy having Him in my arse.  But finally my body surrendered to the overwhelming fatigue and I collapsed, completely spent, on the shower floor.  Apologising profusely, I tried to push myself up again, but I couldn’t even lift my torso up from the tiles, let alone stand.  I tried and tried, blinded by the water and my tears of dismay, until Daddy bent down and lifted me so that I sat with my back leaning against the wall.“It’s okay, sweety, it’s okay.  That’s it.  We’re finished for tonight, lil one.  Come on, give Me your hand and stand up so that we can get you to bed.”I nodded and gave Him my hand, and though He helped me up, my legs could not yet support my weight and I fell back to the tiles once more.“Please, Daddy, can I just sit here for a bit?”He smiled.  “Of course you can, sweety.”I sat, recovering, taking comfort from simply being at His feet as He rinsed Himself off.  I have never, ever experienced that sort of complete and utter physical exhaustion before.  There was something almost pure about it.  Simple.  Honest.  Raw.  I had literally just given Him *every* bit of strength I had.  What a strange yet beautifully carnal way to submit.  Though I was utterly depleted, I felt such a deep, happy, satisfying fulfilment from knowing that I had just given Him my everything.Finally He offered His hand to me once more.“Come on lil one, it’s time for bed.  Stand up please.”I nodded, smiled, and took His hand.  It was time to go to bed. 

6/5/2010 6:27:56 AM: Master has instructed me to explain my aversion to anal.  It’s complicated, and i have never detailed this part of my history to anyone until now.  This is my story:I was nineteen, and going through what I refer to as my 'Slutty McSlutAlot' phase.  Most girls go through a Slutty McSlutAlot phase at some point during their lives, and it usually occurs after some sort of trauma or event that invokes a kind of identity crisis.  She desperately tries to redefine her sense of self and create a false sense of freedom and strength by 'slutting it up', so to speak.  My 'event'?  I had my virginity taken from me.  Not violently, but it was taken against my will nonetheless.  My previous sense of self had greatly centred around my virginity-- sure I dressed promiscuously, sure I partied hard and hooked up with a lot of randoms; but it didn't matter what anyone thought of me, because I couldn't possibly be a 'real' slut because I was still a virgin!  But that was taken from me.Enter the Slutty McSlutAlot phase.  Trying to prove to myself and the rest of the world that I could single-handedly change society's misconception about promiscuous women, I slept around.  A lot.  Now, being (very) sexually active is not a bad thing at all and is definitely nothing to be ashamed of.  One of my very close girlfriends today I even fondly refer to as 'Our Little Nympho'.  Sex is, and should be, fan-friggin-tastic-- as long as you are doing it for the right reasons (i.e., fun!).  When I was nineteen, I wasn't.  I didn't fuck boys for the fun of it.  I never, ever came.  I only wanted that fleeting, false sense of power and strength a woman has when she knows a boy wants to root her.  Yet I hated the term 'slut', and vehemently denied that I was one.There was a group of boys I met and drank with every weekend at the local pub.  One of these boys was the guy who took my virginity.  Even though he had stolen something so precious to me, I still had something of a school-girl crush on him.  After all, if we ended up together, then it wouldn’t be so bad, surely?  All’s well that ends well?  I kept sleeping with him, trying desperately to win him over.  I slept with some of his friends, trying to make him jealous.  I slept with other random boys, trying to grasp that fleeting sense of strength and self-confidence.  And I tried not to hate myself for it.I reached my lowest point one long weekend (Australia Day, actually) when the boys held their official Housewarming/Pool Party.  The guy I had the crush on knew from our previous bedroom-conversations that I had yet to participate in a threesome, and that I was keen to try it one day.  I don’t remember a lot of the details very clearly (half a bottle of vodka before the incident and years of trying to forget it afterwards will hinder a memory), but I do remember finding myself in a room with the guy I had a crush on and one of his friends.  The door was closed.  The light was dim.  They said something about wanting to check out the pink swimsuit I was wearing under my clothes.  Then I was naked.  The guy I liked was behind me, and I was bent over his friend who was sitting on the edge of the bed.  I think I was being fucked.  I know I was sucking a cock.  Then it was over, and I was alone in the room.Later that night, I found myself making out with yet another guy in yet another bedroom. One of the boys who I considered a good friend of mine, and who I knew had deeper feelings for me, walked in on us.  That’s when I realised we were actually in my friend's bedroom—the same room that he had finger-fucked me in a few weeks earlier after my drink was spiked.  Heh, I guess he wasn’t such a good friend after all.  But I saw the look on his face when he opened the door to find me half-naked with another guy.  It was a strange and heartbreaking mix of hurt and disgust.  He closed the door again, and the guy I had been making out with suggested that we go back to his place.  I downed another shot of vodka, and agreed.The sex was terrible.  It just went on and on and on as I laid there wondering if he would ever bloody cum already.  Finally it was over, and as he rolled over to fall asleep, I snuck out and called a cab home.Gossip travels fast at the best of times, let alone in a small college community where everyone knows everyone and they all drink at the same pub.  Everyone knew me, and everyone heard what had happened.  Three guys in one night.  The third guy told everyone that he had fucked me in the arse.  I tried to tell everyone it was a lie.  I tried to tell myself it was a lie.  But I couldn’t be certain, and deep down I knew that.  To this day I still don’t really know if he did or not.  I heard the phrase “on the spit”.  I heard “slut” and “easy”.  I saw the look of disgust on people’s faces.  People who I thought were my friends.  I tried to tell myself that it was okay, that I could still hold my head up high, that I still had some dignity and self-respect.  Yet I couldn’t look anyone in the eye.I slept with that boy I had a crush on a few more times.  One night he fingered my arse, and mentioned that he “had heard that I like anal”.  It was unpleasant.  Not just the sensation itself, but being reminded that I was such a hot topic of cruel conversation.  I stopped him, and we proceeded to fuck like normal.Not long after that, I met my ex.  I settled down and stopped partying.  I cut off all ties with my old “friends” and way of life.  I never spoke to that boy I had a crush on again.  I identified myself as my ex’s partner, and over time my self-confidence grew.  I gained back my self-respect and learnt how to demand it from others.  Five years later I am now single again, but I am eternally grateful for the gift my ex gave me.  He taught me how to love myself again.I have always hated the idea of anal, because it instantly takes me back to that time – to that day, in particular – and all those horrible emotions come flooding back.  Hurt, alone, betrayed, self-loathing, shame, disgust.  But it’s been six years since, and the fact that I am able to write about it in such detail I think is a sign that I am finally ready to truly, truly move on.  I’m single, and I love it.  I’m free to sleep with whoever I want, but that doesn’t mean that I will.  I know how to cum, and I know how to make others cum.  I enjoy sex, and I am not ashamed of it.  I am free.And so i think i am ready to give anal a go.  i have a Master who i trust wholeheartedly; who i know genuinely cares for my wellbeing and would never hurt me.  Who will take it slow and push my limits but never break them.  Who will be pleased with me and call me His lil one and let me know that i am a good girl; He will look at me with approval, not disgust.  He may call me a slut, but i am His slut, and that pleases Him.  And pleasing Him makes me happy.There is such a vast, beautiful difference between being a BDSM slut and a vanilla slut.  In BDSM there is a silent, underlying respect between Master and slut.  He owns her, and she serves Him, but underneath it all He is grateful for the gift of her submission.  In the vanilla world, there is no respect.That is my story.

5/19/2010 6:52:34 AM: Master has instructed me to write about my recent punishment in my journal.  This is it:last weekend i went on a vanilla date with a vanilla boy dressed and acting as my vanilla self.  beforehand Master instructed me to have fun, but if i slept with anyone that night, then i was to get photos on my phone of myself being fucked, and then send them to him.  dripping with anticipation (i don't understand how Master makes me so damn wet...) i said i understood.so i went on this vanilla date, and had a lot of vanilla fun.  afterwards we went back to his vanilla place, and the vanilla sex just sort of.. happened.  then it was over.  seriously.  i didn't even have time to get my phone, let alone take any pictures, before vanilla-boy was finished.  :(the next morning i confessed to Master my disobedience.  He was displeased.  He instructed me to get my toy, lube it with toothpaste, and then put it in my cunt.  i had a family commitment to go to, so i couldn't comply straight away.  this disappointed Him even more.  so as further punishment, He told me that when i was free, i was to also get 6 clothes-pegs and to place one on each nipple, and two on each lip of my cunt.  i was to take pictures of myself for His records.later that afternoon i was finally free to do as Master instructed.  first i placed a peg on each nipple.  it hurt, but when i went to put the pegs on my cunt, i was surprised to find out how wet i was-- it was even difficult to get a good grip for the pegs!  finally the pegs were painfully in place, but i was more concerned about what was to come.  i picked up my favourite toy, and lubed it up with lots of toothpaste (later i chuckled at the fact that it was "sensitive" toothpaste...).  i held it near my cunt, and taking a deep breathe, i pushed it in.  it wasn't too bad at first.  but then.. it started to burn.  really burn.  Master asked me why i was being punished.  i said because i had disobeyed Him.  i had slept with a boy and not taken any photos for Him.  so now i had to take photos of my punishment.  it was so difficult!  i couldn't concentrate because of the burning, and there was toothpaste all over my hands so my hands kept slipping and the pics were out of focus.  but i had to get some good photos for Master.  it seemed to take forever, and i had to keep cleaning the lens of toothpaste, but i finally got some decent pics for His approval.i begged to be allowed to go for a shower and clean myself off.  Master very generously said i could go.  i removed my toy, stepped into the shower, and began to remove the pegs.  as the blood rushed back into my pinched lips, removing them seemed to hurt more than putting them on.  i started rinsing myself off, and as the burning subsided, the residual tingling felt surprisingly pleasant.  i thought of Master as i showered, about how lucky i was to be His, and it took all the willpower i could muster not to cum.  i really don't understand how He can make me so damn wet...later on we played, and i was rewarded, but i have not been instructed to write about that, and so i won't (yet).  ;)-my Master's lil one.

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cieraellison56
 
 Age: 55
  Illinois