Orgasmic Meditation

Got all excited this morning – so to speak – because i saw a post about orgasmic meditation and how you could learn it on-line “in the privacy of your own home.”  When i went to the website, i discovered that registration was free and the initial consult was reduced in price – to $150.  i’m pretty sure if the initial consult is on sale for $150, the whole program is way out of my range.

Sigh.

It might have been fun.

i imagine a meditation induced orgasm as looking/feeling something like this:

images

Or, if you’re practicing with a partner, like this:

sexuality and meditation

And when i went to find those images (googling “orgasm meditation” and then hitting “image,” which is one of my favorite kind of searches) i also found these great quotes.

1a(If she’s turned on , you can do  no wrong, if she’s turned off, you can do no right.)

And this one:

sexquote_IsabeleAllende

(“For women the best aphrodisiacs are words. The G-spot is in the ears.  He who looks for it below there is wasting his time.”)

Do any of youall do orgasmic meditation?

 

Advertisements

i imagine (12)

{If you’re just starting to read now, here’s the beginning of this story.  After that beginning, it’s all “i imagine” by the numbers.}

Sir Martin’s cock.  i lick delicately around the head, tracing the rim with the tip of my tongue.  i lick across the head with the flat of my tongue, looking up at his face.  i encircle it with my mouth, holding it right there, then sliding down over the length of it, letting the head hit the back of my throat.  i hold it deep for a moment, gagging, tears running down my face, before i ease my mouth back up.  And down again.

He is not stopping me, and i am building my rhythm, i can feel the vein in his cock – the big vein that starts at the base – i can feel it throbbing and i know he’ll cum soon.  i am so ready to feel his hot cum in my throat…

…and he stops me.  Pulls my head back.   i’m waiting for more instructions, and he turns to Sir Bryan, who’s seated nearby with Penny, the submissive woman assigned to him this weekend.   “Excuse me, Bryan,” he says.  “May I borrow your girl?”

“Of course,” says Sir Bryan, and before i can even figure out what’s happening, before i can wrap my mind around it, Sir Martin says to me, “Here, baby, I want you to scoot over here, to the side, yes, right here.”  And he moves me – he moves me away from my place in front of him.   He puts me on the other side of his leg.

And he lets Penny kneel in my place in front of him.

Tears well up – what?  he doesn’t want me?  My heart aches and i can barely breathe.  i watch, dismayed, he Penny gets comfortable at his feet.

Sir Martin grins at her, and i feel like he’s crushing me, like he’s stomped on my chest.  “Hi, Penny,” he says, stroking her face.  “I’m pretty close to cumming already, and I want you to get me off, but take your time, ok?”

She nods, “Yes, Sir,” and she puts her mouth to his cock.  Her mouth.  His cock.  i don’t think of myself as a jealous-hearted woman, but i want to cry.  i want to sob, i want to push her away and put myself in front of him. i want to be the one to please him.

i bow my head, tears running down my face.  He’s watching her, one hand in her hair, as her head bobs up and down, taking him in deep.  He moans.

i think he has forgotten me.  i want to lie down on my side, on the floor, and cry.

i glance up at him and see he’s watching me, his face intent.  With one hand, he touches my cheek, my tears on his finger, he brings his finger to his mouth.  Licks the tears off.

He is the cruelest man i’ve ever known and i hate him and i hope he dies.

Ok, maybe i don’t hope he dies.  But he is cruel, and i kind of maybe hate him a lot.

“Watch,” he says, and i realize he’s talking to me.  “Pay attention, watch what she does that pleases me.”  He strokes my face, my hair, with his free hand.  His other hand is touching her.

i hate them both.  i thought he liked me, thought he wanted me.  i thought i was pleasing him.  i don’t want to watch her – it should be me, that should be me!  So hurt, so angry, how can he do this to me?   i sniffle, tears flowing…

His hand in my hair turns my head so i can see her.  His command, “Watch,” forces me to look.  i bite my lip hard.  Fine.  If he wants her instead of me, fine, i don’t care.  i’ll never let him see i care.  Fuck him.  And her.  Fuck them both.

i look.  i watch her head moving, hear the sounds she makes as she takes him deep in her throat.  Tears are running down her face too, we are both crying, he’s making us both cry, but she’s the lucky one, she’s pleasing him, and i’m useless.  Useless, just sitting here.  Cast off.  Like an old shoe.

i almost smile – “like an old shoe” is a bit over the top, even for me right now.   But seriously, why does he want to torture me like this?   i don’t deserve this, i know i don’t.  How could he talk about this being – what did he say?  Edifying?  That’s some kind of bullshit.

Oh, look, i think he’s going to cum, i can tell, watch the rhythm, he’s thrusting into her mouth now holding her head still with both his hands while he fucks her mouth.  She’s struggling to stay still, struggling to accept him, i can see that.  Oh.  Oh.

i can feel it, the tension, the pressure, almost- almost the relief as he cums, moaning, discharging his seed in her mouth.  i can almost taste it.

My body relaxes just a bit, almost as if i have cum too.

He sighs, relaxes, his hand in my hair is loose, barely touching me.  His other hand strokes her face.  Her face has that just fucked look, i’ve seen it on me before, hair disheveled, tears still wet, i know how it feels.  The taste of him in her mouth.

It should have been me.

No, i will not cry again.  i will not.

The Joys of Fet

As y’all may remember, i created a profile for myself on Fetlife.  While not much has been happening there, i did have this (amusing) exchange with someone calling himself “LBL4415.”  i’ve removed my website link from my profile, so i don’t feel bad  laughing about the conversation here, even if it does highlight my mean side.

LBL’s profile consists of a picture of a nice looking man, and his record of having become friends with about 6 women.  His picture actually looks familiar to me, which makes me think he might be someone i talked to on Fet a long time ago, or it’s a stock photo.  But he’s supposedly a 46 year old, living not too far from me, and he messages me this:

LBL:  Would you like to chat sometime?

Figuring he’s a man of  few words, i reply,

Sure.

LBL:  Do you happen to use yahoo or skype?

Me: (thinking that’s moving pretty quick for someone with nothing on his profile)
Oh, funny, i use Skype for work, but olivia doesn’t have an account. Your profile is about as sparse as it can be, isn’t it?

LBL:  Do you have a pic?

Me:  Lol, yeah, but not to share with you at this point. I don’t think we’re going to be friends. I don’t have any reason to believe your pic is even you. It looks like some generic stock photo. You’ve got nothing on your profile to tell me about you. And you seem mostly interested in getting a look at me. No thanks. Good luck.

LBL:  Whatever. Your pretty much par for the course on here. Basically a waste of time. Probably fat and disgusting anyway. Your definitely old.

And for some reason, that response cracked me up.  “Whatever.”  He sounds like he’s about 12.  Ok, maybe 17.  But seriously, it made me laugh.  “Basically a waste of time,” sounds just like my 20 year old nephew.

Me:  Ha, I am old anyhow. 🙂

That was the end of that, which is fine.  But as i was writing this, i googled his alias and found a picture of someone with the same name, living the same place he says he lives, only this LBL4415 is 50 years old, and (wait for it) not nearly as attractive.

Whatever.

Lol, lol, lol.

i imagine (11)

{If you’re just starting to read now, here’s the beginning of this story.  After that beginning, it’s all “i imagine” by the numbers.}

We don’t stop at the first dungeon, where i can hear laughter, and a moan, as we pass by.  At the third door on the left, he turns, and i follow.

This room isn’t huge, but it’s big enough for a couple of spanking benches, a St. Andrews cross, a swing, and plenty of large, comfortable looking chairs.  Sir Martin makes his way to one of the chairs and gestures me to the floor in front of him.

“You can get a kneeling stool,” he says.  “I want your mouth to last longer than your knees.”  There’s a stool within arms reach, and i pull it over, settle on it.  i kneel facing him.

He reaches forward and tugs on the punishment tokens on my collar.  “I’ll punish you for these when I take you to your room tonight.  Corner time with nipple clamps and your hands behind your head.  I’ll take them off after the first five minutes and put them back on for five more.”  He smiles sweetly, and i’m diverted from thinking about how much that’s going to hurt.

“After that,” he goes on, “I’ll spank you, but that will be a comfort for you, not punishment.   Tonight is going to be difficult for you, in ways that you don’t expect.  I want you to remember that I’ve planned it for your edification.”  He grins, “Well, my pleasure first, and your edification.”  Then, “You know what that means – right?  When something is designed to be “edifying?”

“i think i do, Sir,” i say, but my voice sounds uncertain, even to me.

He nods.  “Here’s the definition I want you to hold to tonight.  ‘To edify’ means ‘to build up, or instruct, in a way that uplifts.  To enlighten.’   Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir,” i say, although i’m a bit baffled.

“Good girl.” He strokes my cheek with one hand.  “We’ll start with pleasure.  I’ll teach you how to please me with your mouth.  Are you familiar with the art of cock worship?”

“Yes, Sir,’ i say, with enthusiasm this time.

“Not blow jobs,” he says, “Not just cock-sucking, but cock worship?”

“Yes, Sir,” i say, a bit more uncertainly, but still confident.

“Excellent.” He unzips his pants and pulls his cock out.  i’m glad to see he’s not wearing underwear, which would just get in the way.  It’s a lovely cock, already beginning to get hard. “Open your mouth,” he says.

i open my mouth.  He puts one hand on the back of my collar, grasping a handful of hair and sliding a finger or two through the ring on the collar.  This gives him complete control of my movements.   He guides my head forward until my open mouth is within an inch of his cock – and stops.

i can see his cock, and smell the lovely male, musky odor, and if i put my tongue out, i could actually touch it.  But i know better than to do that.  i wait.

He is stroking his cock with one hand, and i can see he’s getting harder.  i want to touch him, to lick him.  i wait.

“That’s it,” he says.  “Just watch and wait.  Open your mouth a bit more.”  Obediently, i open wider.  “You can breathe on it,” he says.  “Warm breath.  I like that.  Don’t close your mouth.”

So i blow warm air on his cock, wishing he would let me touch him.  Then i remember that obeying him is a way of pleasing him, so i try to let go of my own desire to taste him – even though my mouth seems to have taken on desires of its own.

Maybe he can feel the difference, because he says, “Good girl, now you may put your mouth around the head of my cock, but don’t move.”  And he moves me closer, so my mouth is literally around him, his cock is inside my mouth, but  he holds my head perfectly still.

And then he pulls my head back, pulls his cock back, i whimper, feeling a bit bereft.  “Close your mouth,” he says,  “So tell me, were you able to focus on obedience and pleasing me, or were you thinking about what you wanted to do?”

“Oh!  Oh, Sir.” and i can’t meet his eyes, ‘i, um, i was thinking a lot about how much i wanted to touch you.  i tried to remember that obedience is pleasing you, but yes, Sir, i thought about what i wanted.”

He nodded.  “Not surprising,” he says, “and I appreciate your honesty.  Now, turn sideways here, there you go,” and he scoots and pulls me around, “And now head to the ground, ass up.”  i’m now arranged so that my ass is within easy reach of his right hand.  i hear him pull open a drawer in the little stand next to his chair.

i don’t see what he’s taken from the supply of toys in there.

But i feel it – a sharp whap across my right cheek.  i think it’s the ruler, but it could be a small paddle, i don’t know, and by the third or fourth time it lands, i don’t care.

“Mmmf,” i try to muffle the sound, but i’m crying out each time, and when it lands three times in a row in the same spot, covering my sit spot across both cheeks, i whimper.  He strikes again, four more times, each time across a spot he’s already struck, and i am struggling to hold position when he stops.

“Up,” he says.  “As you were, mouth open. Let’s try again.”

i’m grateful to be up and more than ready to try again.  This time, i manage to keep myself in check.  i still want him, as he holds me poised over his cock, but i’m able to appreciate that he’s letting me be there in the way that he wants.

“Good girl,” he says and i’m thrilled.  “Now for the next step.  This time, you’ll do the same thing – hold your mouth around my cock – until I say ‘begin.’  When I say begin, you may lick the head of my cock until I say stop.  Go ahead, open your mouth and bring it here.”  And he guides my head so that i can carefully place my mouth around his cock.

It seems like a long time again, but i’m patient, finally he says, “Begin.” It is the most wonderful feeling.  His velvety skin under my tongue, the way i can feel his cock begin to get harder.  The taste of him.  Oh.  Oh, yes. Oh –

“Stop,” he says, and he pulls my head back.

i stop.  i don’t want to, but i do.   “Good girl,” he says, and even though i’m feeling bereft, even though my mouth is longing for more, i’m also proud of myself.

We do it again.  And again.  Over and over.  Each time, he lets me go a little longer, lets me do a little more.  But never enough.  Never enough.

His cock is so hard though. So hard, and i can feel the vein at the base throbbing.  i begin to think that this can’t go on forever.  Eventually, he’ll want to cum.  And then – ahhhhh, then i will be there.  Then he’ll let me show him what i can do with my mouth.  How i can please him…

But that’s not what happens.

Sunday Check-in 6-26

i don’t know if it’s the licorice root stick, or just a slightly different way of thinking about food, but i haven’t been eating compulsively this last week.  My scouting forays into the kitchen to see what we’ve got good to eat have practically stopped.  i eat my meals, and that’s enough.  Weird, isn’t it?

On the other hand, i’ve been reading – and writing – erotica like crazy.  And masturbating.  Often.  Well, often for me – maybe once a day, or once every other day.   Compared to going a month or even several months without.  So maybe my food compulsion has been replaced by a porn compulsion.  At least i’m not gaining weight from it, and i’m certainly more relaxed because of it!

i’ve been walking just about every day –  um, walking as in leaving the house and walking through the neighborhood at a fairly brisk pace.  Not just walking from the computer to the kitchen or bathroom.

AND i’ve even done some meditation.

Next in the what’s-new-this-week list, i had a brief flirtation with some guy on fetlife.  Yep.  Someone who lives in the same city.  He was about my age, single, and really nice – maybe even sweet. i was super honest about my situation, and he was understanding.   It was all pretty low key, and kinda fun.

i ended it when he started talking about having dinner or an ice cream together and getting to know each other better.  i panicked just a little bit – i don’t want to sneak around, and i don’t want to tell MP that i’m having dinner with someone else.  Plus, our kinks were not completely compatible.

That made me realize that my own fetish really is spanking.  He would have incorporated spanking into the list of things for us to do because he is the kind of Dom who believes the pleasure needs to be mutual, but spanking is not his thing.   i need someone who shares my love of spanking, only from the other side of the belt.

This story – and the little intro i’m sharing here – really describe what i’m looking for.

Perfection and Punishment

Many high achieving, “Type-A” people find it difficult to accept that they are human. That perfection will always be out of reach. Giving up power, even for a little while, puts life back in balance for some. This is a story about Jessica, who is just such a person. In this story Jessica goes to Sir’s house on Saturday afternoon. After tea he gives her a long, hard spanking.

Monday, i’ll be back with more of “i imagine.”

Spanking Stories (not mine)

Here’s a treat for you – some lovely spanking stories.  Hot Bottom Stories.  Maybe youall already know all about these stories by Case Wintermute.  i just stumbled on them. And they are – just lovely.

i’m working my  through the male-spanks-female ones, because they are the ones that really do it for me.  They’re super simple, minimal plot, and minimal characterization, and still, somehow, they convey so much.

And they are so-frigging-hot.  i discover i’m having to – um, you know – “relieve some tension” every day.  Which i haven’t done in ages.  Which makes it super clear that i really have a spanking fetish.  No, i mean seriously.  In case you didn’t already know that about me.

The stories have such a nice ritualistic flow.  The same instruments are used in the same order.  The spanked one is expected to hold position without squirming or clenching.  Violations, predictably, lead to extra strokes on the thighs.  The spanked one’s responses are similar across stories, the spanker’s comments are similar.  It has the rhythm of a beloved bedtime story.  Very low key.  Very kind.  Very just- what-i’d-love.

Don’t miss the link to his website, where he describes what he means by “a hard spanking.”  It was as arousing for me as his stories.  i also love that he believes in consensual spanking only.  It’s sad that the latest story is dated 2008 and i can’t find anything past then.

Anyhow.   That’s my Saturday treat for you. Try not to spend all day reading the stories. (Oh, wait, that’s advice i need to hear, not advice i need to give.) But let me know if you like them!

i imagine (10)

{If you’re just starting to read now, here’s the beginning of this story.  After that beginning, it’s all “i imagine” by the numbers.}

As we make our way through the halls to the dining room, i get a little better at managing the walk, and at responding to the direction of his crop.  We begin to meet other couples headed to dinner and while the submissives’ eyes signal their sympathy, the dominants are effusive in their praise of Sir Martin’s display of me.

Mistress Diane is particularly taken with it, and she and her girl actually stop.  She asks Sir Martin to have me turn around so she can appreciate the full effect, and comments that the only thing she might possibly add is a butt plug.  Sir Marin nods and agrees that he had the same thought but wanted to start out more slowly with me.

By the time we get to the dining room, i am about half humiliated and half proud, which is confusing.

At the table, there is a place with his name, but none for me.  Next to him is a low stool, and i know i’ll be sitting there.  i remember to be grateful for the stool.  But first, Sir Martin keeps me standing as he carefully, one at a time, removes the clamps.  This sends waves of pain through me – if my hands were free, i might try to rub the nipples, but with my hands still behind my back, i can’t do anything, but i bend at the waist, as if that will somehow help.

Sir Martin grabs my collar and pulls me straight up again.  “No,” he says sharply, and then his face relaxes into a sweeter smile, “No, give me the pain, please,” and he flicks each nipple, making me cry out.  He waits, and watches, until the pain recedes.

“Good girl,” he says, pressing my body against him while he reaches behind me to release my arms.  He lets me wrap my arms around him, and holds me for a long minute before he releases me.  “Sit, girl” he says, gesturing to the stool.

We’re at a long table,designed to seat 8 people, but there are only 4 at the table, and four of us on stools or kneeling on the floor.  The tablecloth is arranged so we can’t make eye contact with each other, but i can see their legs and feet.  Sir Martin is talking with the others at the table as the meal is served.  i can hear Mistress Diane’s voice, and Master Bryan, but don’t recognize the third voice.

And really, it doesn’t matter.  There is something about sitting so close to the floor where all you can see is legs and feet, where your Master hands down a bite when he thinks about it, or lets you sip from his glass – it reduces me.  i don’t care what they’re talking about.  i’m wondering what the next bite will be, and if he’ll want me to use my mouth to please him while he eats, or not til later.

The food is lovely, and i don’t mind being fed a bite at a time.  It just tends to keep me focused on the food, and the sips of water and occasionally wine.  He makes sure i get enough to eat too, which is nice.  They would never let anyone actually go hungry here, but sometimes we’re shuffled off to the pantry for a bowl of soup or a grilled chicken breast while the Dominants enjoy dessert.  But not tonight.

By the time i have the one bite of dessert he allows  me, (a melt-in-your-mouth bite of chocolate pie with a light flaky crust) i am really longing to be used. But apparently that’s not on his agenda right now.  He stands up, and picks up my leash.  i’m ready to stand myself, but he says, “No, I’d like to see you crawl.  Slowly.”

i don’t much want to crawl, but i’m so glad i’m not still wearing the nipple clamps that i get on my hands and knees pretty quickly.   He picks up the leash.  Of course, attached to the back ring of my collar, it’s positioned just right.

i’m looking at the floor as i start to move toward the door, but he tugs on the leash so i stop.  He taps me lightly under the chin with the crop, “Head up, please,” he says.  Obediently, i raise my head.

Then he squats down beside me, holding my leash tightly enough that i’m very aware of the collar.  He leans in close to me, and with one hand, strokes me from my temple to my neck, down my side from shoulder to hips and traces the line of my ass, thigh, and calf, down to my foot.  “This is lovely,” he says.  “I’m not trying to humiliate you, but I’m going to enjoy all aspects of you.  I want you to crawl as if you’re happy to do it for me.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” i whisper, wishing i had thought of it that way without having to be reminded.  While i’m thinking that, i realize he has attached another punishment token to my collar.  i can’t even see what color it is, and i resist the urge to turn my head trying to see.

Sir Martin stands again, and says in a low voice, “Tonight, you only have to focus on giving me what I want.  Clear?”

“Yes, Sir,” i say.  “Thank you, Sir.”

“Good girl,” he says, and i can hear warmth in his voice.  “Now, let’s go.  Crawl, please.”

And i do.  The floor is hard, but we get to the area rug pretty soon, so that’s not so bad.  i focus on moving with grace, even though i’m pretty sure i look ridiculous.  He stops me with a tug on my leash when he get to the door.

“Not bad,” he says, “With practice you might be pretty good at that.  You can stand up now, slowly, please.”  Well, that’s good, because “slowly” is the only way i can get to my feet again.  i’m not so young anymore, and my knees protest a bit at this whole crawling-around-on-the-ground thing.  In fact, he helps me catch my balance, since going from the floor to up on these heels is also a bit tricky.

“Thank you, Sir,” i say.

He smiles and moves the leash to the front of my collar.   “Heel,” he says, as he heads off down the hall.  i stumble a bit, following after him.