Little Things

Sometimes it is just simple things…things that aren’t overt, but just little acts of SM that make a big impact.

Master has an injury right now and we haven’t had much SM play because he can’t lift his dominant arm above his ribs. He can move his forearm just fine, but not his upper arm. I want him to heal so I have been trying to urge him to relax and not exert himself. We are kinky and enjoy SM so he has had to find other ways to play.

What I have noticed is sometimes it is simple little things that can make a big impact without a lot of exertion. They also can be done in a quiet corner of an active play party.

Master put me in a collar and leash on Saturday night. He held tight on the leash pulling me back to choke me slightly.

He whispered, “Kiss me.”

He commands me to kiss him. I choke myself more by trying to reach his lips as he holds the leash tightly in his fist. I pull and gasp. He finally gives a little so that I can reach his lips. They were such delicious kisses. He whispered wickedly tormenting things into my ear such as “I want to break you.”

He alternated between breath play and percussive face slapping. He stood behind me as I sat in a chair. It brought his hands up into a good place to slap me. My face was bright red and on fire.

Although we like to play a little harder, I love that we did what we could and it still feeds our energy. It feeds those sadistic and masochistic desires in us.

We wished we could have stayed at the party longer, but we had Sunday obligations that made us leave early. But thankful for our little scene in the corner, as I was a happy floaty girl by the time we left and barely remember if we said good bye.


heartspkunexpectedboxFor the longest time I didn’t like spankings. Over the years, I have had people tell me “oh you should get a spanking from so and so, then you would like spankings.” I would get spanking from so and so and still go “umm no.” Then the next friend would recommend someone else and I would repeat this process and walk away going “no” still. Once even walking away injured because the spanking was hard and high so whacked my back out of place.

When I became Master’s, he didn’t spank me right away. We had lots things we did, but spanking wasn’t one of them. I think I even expressed how spankings weren’t something I even really enjoyed. One day he gave me a spanking...oh my gawd. It was the most amazing spanking as he actually plays me as he spanks because he is a drummer.

He causes all sorts of different sensations with just his hands during a spanking. He uses the music’s rhythm and his hands to play my body. My body reacts as though it is a musical instrument. His hands cause vibrations on the flesh. Some are soft and sensual and some are harder to get almost popping sounds. Sometimes the vibrations have caused me to orgasm.

Because of the music and how he plays me – it is deeply intimate. Skin on skin. Energy coming from the music and him. I get into where I am writhing and moaning. Sometimes my hands are dancing along. He gets in a zone and it is really like he is playing a musical instrument where the only focus is on what he is doing.

I didn’t like others spankings before, but honestly I doubt I would ever like anyone’s spanking but Master’s now. We call them percussion spankings as they are due to him being a drummer.

He drove into a tree

I am trying to decide what I am going to wear to Thunder in the Mountains. Thunder is a big bdsm event in Denver not this weekend, but the next. I tried on an old satin skirt that is gun metal gray and a black top that criss-crosses across my breasts accentuating my cleavage.

Master is in the living room playing a video game that requires driving. I walk out and ask how I look and he starts driving crooked because he isn’t looking at the tv screen any more. Instead he is just starring at me like I hypnotized him.

“Is this a maybe or a yes for Thunder?”

“YES! It is definitely a yes!”

Nice to know after 12 years together I can still make him so speechless that he crashes into a tree.

What the cuck?

Wait, what?

Don’t you mean fuck?  (no … cuck … as in cuckelry … no not cutlery ….)

“Okay, what’s cucking then?”

These are just my thoughts on the subject and not anywhere close to being the end all be all on the subject. It’s merely an entry to get my thoughts out of my head where I can look at it.

Cucking has been around since the dawn of man. By definition, cucking is the act of “cheating, adultery and other forms of promiscuity.” Except cucking isn’t exactly cheating … but it is … but it’s not. Even with all the trademarks of being adultery, it’s consensual adultery. Except it’s not really consensual – but it is.

Confused yet?

Cucking is a complicated consensual dynamic. Cucking is having a separate relationship with another person without say, consideration or input from the cuck. That relationship can be as broad and deep or as narrow and shallow as defined by the other participants. Cucking can be humiliating. Cucking can involve emotional sadomasochism.

Examining the participants may make a bit more sense:

There’s the cuck. Traditionally, we hear about cuck being a male as a cuckhold. He gets to watch his wife have sex with another man, he is maybe not allowed to orgasm, and is otherwise chaste. He doesn’t get to participate and is shamed for watching. Wife gets to demean the poor cuck for not participating in the festivities and the other man (i.e. the bull) gets to have sex while demoralizing the cuck who doesn’t get anything.

So it is about fucking.

It can be. But it could also be as benign as the wife spending time on a date, having a great time (privately) with another man while the cuck knows about it back home. The degrees of cucking can range from the one-time fling to having an established relationship with the other man (or woman.)

So why blog about it? Why bring it up?

danae and I have been spending a lot of time talking over the last few weeks. During one of our drives back home after traveling, we started discussing our sex lives and fantasies and viola’ enter the world of cuck. danae expressed her desire to have a cuckquean relationship dynamic. In her emotional masochistic mind, it excites her knowing that I’m involved with another woman and she doesn’t get a say in it.

Aside from having that whiplash “what the hell did you say” moment, it also tapped into my emotional sadism dark thoughts. After having spent a great deal of time thinking through the various aspects of cucking, it’s a new unchartered course that has already created some interesting dynamic changes for danae and I. (and I haven’t even approached anyone for even considering a cuck relationship with yet.)

“So you’re cheating on her?!”

That’s how it looks, and that’s how cucking works. Cuckqueans and cuckholds offer their blessing, permission or desire for their significant other to pursue relations with someone else for purposes of cucking.  danae finds it very exciting, humiliating and otherwise emotionally masochistic to know I will be out with other women. In her mind and other cucks, the perceived “cheating” is actually the fetish.

The biggest difference is that everyone is KNOWING going into the dynamic. Things are communicated out in the open and known. Nothing hidden.

“But won’t you harm danae in the process?!”

No, it won’t as this is what danae desires.  It’s similar to having a V-style poly dynamic with the added spice of knowing danae is enjoying my relationship with someone else.

“Will it be just sexual?!”

Cucking situations can be just for sex or they can be sustained relationships that work independently from the primary dynamic. What would I personally want? I typically don’t do casual. I need connectivity and to do so – requires that I have some sort of relationship with someone. I’m not sure what that completely looks like right now because I’m still trying to digest the whole cucking world. But right now, I can’t see it just being a fling – it has to be longer than that, deeper than that.

“That won’t be fair to the other woman though”

That’s possibly true. The landscape has to be very much exposed and in the open for the other woman to make a rational choice of whether or not she’s even interested in such a dynamic. I’m very much aware of what this does for the other woman and would want her needs and wants met for the duration of the relationship just like how it would be if I was single and dating.

“Would she need to be a slave?”

She would need to be an s-type to some degree (at least to me). At this point I’m not sure a slave surrender would be ideal in cucking – but I’m still processing that out.

“What happened to your poly triad dynamic dream?”

That dynamic has been put away for now. It doesn’t mean that danae and I won’t revisit it at some point, but right now we’re not seeking a poly triad family. We haven’t thrown the poly triad concept out – but it’s something we’re not pursuing.

“Will the other woman need to be intimate with danae?”

No. The cuck dynamic can be set up to have no involvement with danae – or can be modified to include danae in only specific instances.

“Does danae get a say in who you select to have a relationship with?”

No, she doesn’t.

“Do you feel bad about that? All of this seems very wrong.”

I don’t feel bad about it because it’s a relationship dynamic change. The M/s and way we’re approaching poly has also changed. As a result, yes – I fully admit that the outside appearances may look very wrong, but it has been done on a consensual basis.

“So this isn’t a permanent situation?”

It can be. It’s up to the other woman if she chose to have a long-term relationship dynamic with me. danae still gets no say in it and has agreed to that.

“What if I’m married and have a complex relationship with my husband, but I want to pursue a cuck relationship with you as the other woman?”

It’s impossible for me to know if a complex married relationship would or wouldn’t work in the cuck relationship that we’re going into. At this point I’m not saying anyone’s existing or non-existing situation would work or not work. It requires chemistry and talking things through to know exactly where things come out.

So there you have it. The skinny on things to come as we venture forward on this upcoming Path. Questions and comments are always welcome as it helps me better rationalize all the various aspects I may not have considered.

Dark changes

Folks perusing our feed will notice that things have gotten considerably darker between danae and I lately.

This isn’t because our relationship is on the rocks or is breaking a part. We’re about to embark on a darker voyage for the both of us that has been discussed between us for a while now.

More posts will be forthcoming in the coming days that illustrate those changes.

(yes, this is a teaser … always like keeping people at the edge of their seats …)  🙂

“Do you really think I give a fuck that it hurts?”

We were traveling Wednesday. I suggested bringing the clover clamps, because well I am masochist. Not especially smart on my part though.

Our Wednesday had already started out with putting me into a mindset. I was still in that place when got on the road. A couple hours into our travel the clamps were attached. The roads are needing work so every time we hit a hole or rough patch, I would let out some moans.

About 6 minutes into wearing them, Master grabbed the chain and yanked on hard. I let out screams of protest. He laughed at me and then told me that he didn’t “give a fuck if it hurt.”

I begged, “Master…please…please…”

“Do you really think I give a fuck if it hurts? Do you really think you matter? Do you? God you are just so pathetic.” (He went on to say other things, but I don’t remember it word for word as I was feeling it)


“Just shut the fuck up. I don’t even want to hear you.”

His tone…his tone was harsh. He didn’t give a fuck. His voice had that primal edge to it where he just wants to hurt me and doesn’t “care.” I know Master loves me, but there are times when his Sadist comes out, in a way that is primal and brutal. He and I have called it his beast. Well the beast was present and every time he said he didn’t give a fuck. I knew…I was going to be a complete wreck. Really I started to crumble right away.

He got extremely cruel saying things to me that made me feel those things I keep tucked away far away…deep and hidden. He made me feel in ways that made me want to turn away and hide. But we were in the car and the only place I was hiding was behind my sunglasses.

He kept on verbally hurting me as he physically hurt me. Not just yanking, but punching, grabbing and slapping my tits with one hand and verbally flinging words to cut into me.

When I would use the word “please,” he would hurt me more. I would beg “Master, please stop.” He would again remind me he can do whatever he wanted and he wanted it to hurt me so asking him to stop wasn’t going to get me far.

At one point he told me he might let up a little if his dumb cunt asked properly. I was sobbing and wrecked by now so it came out easy as my mind accepted it.

“Master, dumb cunt would appreciate if you stopped hurting it.”

He eased up just a little.

This continued on and he would hurt me, I would cry and beg, he would hurt me more, I would degrade myself by begging in ways to please him, and then he would ease up just a little bit so I could catch my breath. He would start all over again.

At the 30 minute mark, he yanked on the chain hard as he did a count down. One hard yank for each number. He told me when he got to zero, I could take the right one off. He said, “200.” I started shaking my head and sobbing more. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t count down from 200. My brain and body were screaming no.

He the said, “99,98, 64, 31, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0.” Just random numbers between 200 and 10 and then a countdown from 10.

I took the right off when he said zero. As those that have had clover clamps on know the taking off hurts so I let out screams.

He said, “now the same for the left.” He started at 200 again and did his countdown before finally getting to zero where I could get release my sore left nipple.

During his emotional jabs as well as his physical jabs, I was wrecked and crying, but I almost orgasmed from each spike of pain because I was also turned on. My body reacted to the emotional and physical pain. I was too wrecked though to figure out how to ask permission to orgasm.

He didn’t let me put my breasts back at first so my sore nipples rubbed against the edges of my bra. He slapped and punched me a few more times and again I wanted to orgasm, but wasn’t fully aware how to ask.

Finally when we were almost to Denver he had me pull myself together before reaching our destination.

My nipples were sore and hard though for the next 24 hours and Master would see them poking through my shirt as a signal to hurt them. Every time we were alone he was clamping on to them, and punching and slapping them.