Monthly Archives: November 2010

The Ball Gag

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I thought I would rather enjoy it, being gagged and bound and practically helpless as Master had his way with me. I fantasized about it for weeks. Master and I went to our favorite site for sex toys and looked a few of the ball gags they offered. When the one we picked out finally arrived, I was ecstatic. I could not wait to try it out!

Master didn’t keep me waiting long, within an hour he had me in position: on all fours with ropes that bound my wrists. The rope ran under the bed and connected to my ankles which were also bound. If Master tugged on the rope I would be forced onto my elbows and my wrists would shoot forward. I’m not exactly sure how it all worked because he blindfolded me shortly after wrapping my wrists.
He put the gag in my mouth and tighten it. For a split second fear coursed through my veins and then rippled over my skin as I sank down into subspace…
In the silence, behind the darkness of the blindfold, I waited. I listened for Master, trying to pinpoint where he was in the room based on the sounds made and what direction they came from. Just as I was focusing on his movements I felt the sharp sting of the belt slap across my ass. I bit down on the ball gag (well I tried to bite down, it’s a bit harder to do that than the porn star girls made it seem) I moaned a bit, listening to the way it was muffled by the gag. WHACK! Another slap of the belt, this time across the back of my thighs. Mentally I ran through every feeling going through me: the cold metal of the detachable gag pressed against the sides of my mouth, the saliva I felt building up inside my mouth, the warm heat rising from the spots I’d been hit already, the rest of my body felt fresh and cool, awaiting more pain.
My pussy started to get wet as I anticipated the next move. I tried to raise my ass up a bit for him, tried to arch my back in case that was where he hit next. Sure enough, the belt came down over my shoulder blade. Oh how it felt! So amazing to me that I both enjoy this and move into the thwacks!
Two fingers slid into my pussy and pumped me gently. No words were spoken. I mentally begged Master to speak, to say something, anything. He roughly removed his fingers and it was suddenly silent again. I waited, listened, and waited some more. I moved the ball gag around a tiny bit in my mouth, as much as I could. The sleek silicone ball was neither warm or cold, slightly too big for my mouth and utterly preventing me from speaking. I think at this point I started to hate it slightly. It took away a freedom I’m so used to having: the freedom of speech, moans and whispers.
I turned my head to the left, listening harder for Master. I had last felt him move behind me, but I wasn’t sure where exactly he was. Before I could think further, or prepare more though he shoved his hard cock deep into me. It was so unexpected, I cried out and tried to move away from hit. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled me back preventing any further movement. “That’s right, bitch, fucking take it!” he snarled. God I was so wet. Hearing his voice after what felt like an eternity of silence. I moaned and groaned and wiggled my ass trying to get more of his cock.
He was practically splitting me in two, but I wanted more! I wanted to be hung on the end of him, filled to the brink and then some, ready to explode from being impaled by him. It felt SO GOOD….
The ball gag experiment went off as a raging success. It’s smaller in looks than I thought it would be, but it feels almost too big for my mouth. The funny thing is, Master is too big for my mouth as well, though that doesn’t stop him from fucking it, or me from enjoying it. The same can be said for the ball gag. However, because it did it’s job so well, I have started to hate it slightly. Master has decided it will be used primarily for soft punishments; for when I have been entirely too sassy and he wants me to shut up for a while. He has also decided to use it when he wants to fuck me, but doesn’t want to hear anything more than moans out of me. On a side note, if you have allergies or a cold and can’t breathe out of your nose too well, the ball gag will suffocate you.
We’ve used it for almost two weeks now and I’m not sure if I love it or not. I would definitely recommend it to friends simply because it does it’s job and it does it well! I’m just not entirely sure I like the ability to talk being taken away from me!

If you’d like to purchase the same Ball Gag Master and I used, or find one you might like better, you can do so here: http://www.TheAdultToyShoppe.com

I hope you enjoy it as much as Master and I do!
-ariia

Stop Stressing.. you look fine!

**The following is a peptalk I’m giving myself. I’m sure I’m not the only one who needs to hear it though, so I am publishing it here.**

Due to a recent bout of body hate (on my part) Master blocked me from computer usage for a few days. I have done nothing but pour over Victoria Secret magazines, google weight loss strategies and cry over the fact that I gained a few pounds (hello size 10!) Ugh. I even went so far as to spend my allowance on diet pills (that got flushed down the toilet by Master. I have been ordered never to take that trash unless directed by a doctor and given approval from Master. If I want to lose weight I must do it the natural way – working out!)

What is it about those skinny ass heroin models that appeals to us anyway? The VS models aren’t too bad looking, but then maybe that’s because we can’t tear our eyes away from the breasts and asses featured in the pictures to see much else. But at least they look healthy. The girls who walk the catwalk and look like they might die from starvation however….. ick.

Honestly, I am working out more, I am trying to get back down to a size 8 and I am appalled that I have gained enough weight to actually have to go out and get a size bigger pants. I hate it. But I’m trying desperately to learn to love my body even though I don’t look runway ready.

I am just so sick of hating the way I look, of nit-picking every little flaw on my body. It has become an obsession and not a good one! It’s one thing to work out to be healthier, it’s quite another to be found crying over pictures of models while stuffing your face with oreos and proclaiming you’ll never be beautiful (guilty as charged).

How Master manages to put up with me sometimes, I will never know. But I will always be grateful for it!

The Holidays are right around the corner. Do yourself (and your loved ones) a favor and DONT beat yourself up about the calories here and there. Walk more, run often, do a few extra sit-ups (or START doing them) but don’t give up. So what, you aren’t a size 2. Is that really what’s important in life? Is that really all you care about? No. So pick up your head, eat that extra cookie and then take care of the extras responsibly – by working out!

Frustrated at self and industry,

-ariia

A Quick Post Before Bed…

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It is late and I need sleep. My body is soundly bruised in all the right places. Master has belted me, whipped me, flogged me and paddled me into submission. I feel gloriously, painfully, aware that I am, in every sense of the word, OWNED. I have been beaten, pleasured, forced past limits and above and beyond any subspace I have ever gone to before. I have been cum in, on and in again. Master has thoroughly used me to please him and in the process has pleased me. I love it and I am so tired I would pass out from pure passion and exhaustion… but I must make Monday’s posting or I am sure to get more punishments later, and I doubt my body can handle much more…
I hate shaving. I absolutely HATE it. I hate the feeling of stubble as it grows back in (impossibly fast I might add). I hate the itch that comes along with that. I can not stand having to sit in a hot tub of soapy water for twenty minutes or longer just to soften the skin so that I can rake it up and down with a razor (no matter how fresh the blade, it doesn’t feel good!) I hate hair on my pussy (okay I like a landing strip, but Master likes me bare) but I hate the process of becoming bald down there. Master has said that I can get waxed at any time I please, but it scares the living shit out of me. Funny thing is, I can handle a belt on my back so hard that it leaves golf ball shaped, black bruises the next day, in fact I beg Master for more than I can probably handle (he in his wisdom never goes far enough to damage – more on that later) but the idea of a little wax on my pussy scares me. I should honestly just set an appointment and get it done… how long must I wait before I go to get waxed? I just shaved yesterday?
I can’t stand exercising. I love being thin, I hate sweating my ass off to stay that way. I love oreos and pie too though and I can’t stay a size 8 and eat all I want, my metabolism just can’t handle it. Sweating isn’t so bad, the soreness my arms and legs and belly feel after a particularly amazing working isn’t so bad either…. it’s the act of working out that I can’t stand. You know what they say though, no pain, no gain.
I don’t like my safe word. I hate it so much so, that Master has to train me to use it. I go through cycles of pure obedience followed swiftly by rebellion and frustrations. I’m not sure why I rebel in the first place, I just know I do. Master is swift to punish me for any and all infractions but there are times he likes to punish me to remind me of my place as well. Every now and then though I stop using my safeword. Maybe I get too involved in the scene and I beg for more (this happens often actually, I go down into sub space and then nothing hurts – well nothing we are really interested in trying….). Master stops and reminds me to use my safe word. He pushes me just a little past my limit and waits for my obedience in using the word. When I don’t utter it (like the other night) he says “Okay, slave, have it your way.” and then he uses the belt or paddle on my bare flesh until I have no choice but to cry out “RED!”
I have a problem with pride, I’ve mentioned this before. I don’t want to have to use the word because I have it set in my mind that slaves shouldn’t use safe words. But Master doesn’t use the word for my benefit. He asks me to use it for his. He needs to know that if I am no longer enjoying the scene, I will say so. He trusts me to say so. These lessons are reminders of that. And I need the reminders.
I love being a slave. I love that Master knows full well what I do and don’t like and that he finds pleasure in asking me to do things I don’t enjoy. I love the way he watches me as I crawl across the floor, nipple clamps in place, the soft silver chain swaying as I go. I love that he enjoys reminding me that I am his to do as he pleases. And honestly, I even enjoy being asked to do things I don’t like because it reminds me of my place. It’s almost impossible to put that into words.
I have never felt more loved and more secure than when he reminds me that I am owned. 
–ariia
**on a side note: In searching for images under the description “beaten” I found some pretty awful things. Let me be very clear here when I say that Master has NEVER ONCE broken skin, caused me to bleed or hurt me in the way some of those pictures show. Master is a Sadist, but he is not a sexual sadist. He knows my limits and if he ever crosses them, he does so gently and carefully. A sexual sadist (in the criminal sense) does not know control and never uses it.  BDSM is all about control and enjoying the sensations that flow through us as we play. It’s part of why many of us choose not to drink (or get drunk or high) before we participate in scenes. The point is to ignite the senses, not to dull them.
These images were so sickening to me that I wound up looking elsewhere for a photo. Blood is just not my thing, I pass out at the sight of it. Ick!**
Scarlet Dahlia

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