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Writings from my Tumblr - 4/26/2013 11:00:33 PM   
mydomswhore


Posts: 10
Joined: 4/19/2013
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I have a blog on tumblr that hold much of my submissive writing before I found this message board. I wanted to use this thread as a chance to share it with you. I promise I won't solicit my blog. Just wanted some feedback on what I've written.

----------------------------

Wait

Wait.

Watch.

Be ever so still.

Do not give power to the desperation.

He knows it already.

He knows you want, lust, long for the moment he returns.

If emotions betray you and you lose control before the game has even begun. He will stay on the peripheral…

He will leave you wanting.

So let that anxiety sit unopened. It is there even if shove it away but if you keep it in a balloon…

Let it fill up safely confined…

He will return and take it from you. He will raise it up and let it float weightlessly away from your tender heart. He will always keep you safe.

…But for now, little girl, you must wait.

Your reward will come.

Oh yes, little darling. You will cum.


~justhislittlewhore

< Message edited by mydomswhore -- 4/26/2013 11:05:33 PM >
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RE: Writings from my Tumblr - 4/28/2013 12:59:14 AM   
DarkSteven


Posts: 28072
Joined: 5/2/2008
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I like it a lot. But please change "peripheral" for "periphery".

_____________________________

"You women....

The small-breasted ones want larger breasts. The large-breasted ones want smaller ones. The straight-haired ones curl their hair, and the curly-haired ones straighten theirs...

Quit fretting. We men love you."

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RE: Writings from my Tumblr - 4/29/2013 11:15:37 PM   
mydomswhore


Posts: 10
Joined: 4/19/2013
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Oh, my! Thank you!
I always lack in the editing department. :-/

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RE: Writings from my Tumblr - 4/29/2013 11:20:00 PM   
mydomswhore


Posts: 10
Joined: 4/19/2013
Status: offline
Here is another:


A belt…

A frightening tool in my Dom’s arsenal. Yet, I still smile every time I see him tug it out from the loops.

I have felt the bite of the leather on my bare ass. The welts gracing my pale skin with bright red, then tender purple bruises that remind me of him every time they are touched. There have been times I’ve sat alone, tracing the marks slowly with my fingers, and replaying the scene in my mind. Hearing the clink of the buckle as he moves it around. Counting my breaths until the sound of the swing sings through the air. The timing of the snap and my echoing cries as it meets my skin.

His belt is perfect for bonds. An unbreakable wrap with the length to lead and pull whatever body part around to his liking. I love to see the leather against my wrists. I love how it looks in his hands or how wraps over his knuckles. The power and control of such a simple object once it is in his hands.

The last time he use his belt it served as my collar and leash. With his eyes locked on mine he looped it around my neck and pulled it tight. With out a word he tugged me to my knees. I prepare for commands to undress or maybe he will unzip for me to service him, but instead he leads me on hands and knees to the bathroom. He doesn’t usually make me crawl so my movements lacked grace. I was dreading what he had in mind for me next.

“I need to pee and you are going to help,” he commanded as we came to a stop in front of the toilet. He held the leash firmly around his hip, pinning the side of my face to his ass. He instructed me to unzip him. Pressing my body close to his warm legs I blindly undid his fly and pulled out his cock.

I’ve never aimed for him before and really it was a simple task. However, what really sticks out in my mind was the belt around my neck, the feel of his strong legs against my chest, the warmth of his cock in my hand. I didn’t care that it would normally embarrass me to help him do what I’ve always seen as a private act. I didn’t care that I was led there like a dog. What I felt was his nearness. My face was pulled tight to his body and I wrapped my arms around his legs, one hand on his slowly stiffening cock and the other holding him close. I could feel the urine flowing through the hot skin. I could hear him breathing and nearly sighing as I clung to him. In that small space I was his most precious pet and I couldn’t care less what he was making me do so long as he is happy and I am near him.

Later, after more unsteady crawling, he allowed me to suck him. He held the belt firmly around my neck while softly caressing my head. Now, I don’t have a formal collar and leash yet, (though I confess I would adore the chance to earn one) but really, he doesn’t seem to need it to pull the pure desire to submit out of me. I nearly purred while sucking gratefully, his rhythmic petting soothing me into submission.

A leash, a rope, or simply words. I am his.

…but, oh my. How I love and fear that belt.


~justhislittlewhore

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RE: Writings from my Tumblr - 5/1/2013 6:21:06 PM   
mydomswhore


Posts: 10
Joined: 4/19/2013
Status: offline
Strength

There are times when you find it hard to breathe.
Times when the weight of life feels as if it will turn your bones to dust.

There will be times when crying out is all you seem to have strength for.
And still times when you feel you have no voice at all.

There will be days when the ache of loneliness will buzz in your mind like a fly trapped between the screen and the glass.

Days where pain outside is no match for the pain you feel inside.
Moments when you get ill thinking about all you struggle with.

You will find a wall blocking you.
You will lose your composure.
You may even lose your mind.

But when you can conquer…
When you hold out for just a bit longer…
When you can shove back the dark enemy and reach for that loving light…

You will find your strength.
Just when the pain or sorrow burns the most.
You will be lifted up from your lowest point.

All you have to do is try.
Your strength is inside…

…waiting for you to find it.

~justhislittlewhore

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RE: Writings from my Tumblr - 5/1/2013 6:26:20 PM   
mydomswhore


Posts: 10
Joined: 4/19/2013
Status: offline
One of my favorite things I've written... My point of view on the dominant mind

A Dom’s Prerogative
Why is the Dominant mind so secretive? Could it be some part of his power to maintain the element of surprise, control over his submissive’s expectations, and a mysterious persona?

I have been given small tastes of what my Dom can deviously cook up in that brain of his. I can already tell that what parts of himself he gives to me is only what he knows my tender heart can handle. Like giving a child the lightest bag of groceries so that they feel as though they are helping.

I can only fantasize what more he holds and it makes me wet knowing that my guess could not come close to the delicious darkness in him.

Maybe he holds back fearing that his darkest desires will cause me to pull away. Fearing that I will reject this part of him. To be perfectly honest, that is possible. It was possible from the first day he commanded me to my knees and told me to suck his perfect cock. If I had known then that he would some day throw me down in the shower and piss on me, like a dog marking his territory… If I had known then that he would whip me till I bruise or make me greet him on my knees like a servant… I may not have been brave enough to follow him into the world of kink.

His thoughts and desires are a controlled chaos locked away from my reach - “A Dom’s Prerogative” as he calls it. And as I grow and learn myself, my limits, and my own desires, he slowly introduces me to the mystery within himself. Always taking a chance but always under control. This is my training. My Dom slowly shaping me like an artist creating his masterpiece.

I eagerly pry and pull at him, practically begging him to tell me more, to give me more. But my brilliant Dom knows that the plans and desires he holds for me would crush me all at once. So he protects and gives me what little bit I can hold. Every time I stare in wonder of the precious gift I have been given.

Slowly, he earns my trust.
And in my submission…
Slowly, I earn him.

~justhislittlewhore

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RE: Writings from my Tumblr - 5/6/2013 7:32:41 PM   
mydomswhore


Posts: 10
Joined: 4/19/2013
Status: offline


His Hands

His hands are always there… whether he is miles away or mere inches from my exposed skin.

In person his hands lead, guide, control, and punish me. They are the source of great pleasure and immense, indescribable pain. I crave. I fear. I beg for his hands. Curling his fingers inside me, he takes my orgasm from me. With a pinch on my tender nipples he can drop me to my knees and humble me. His fingers can grace my curves and set me aflame or reduce me to shivers. They tangle in my hair, holding me precisely where he desires. He guides my body to his tempo or positions me as he pleases. Sometimes it is with a delicious sensually, and sometimes it is cold and violent, but it is always with the utmost control and dominance. In person his hands command, correct, comfort every move I am to make or feeling I have lost control of. When he moves away the anticipation of what his hands are capable of holds me captive – as if they remain physically clamped down on me, holding me immobile. Should I move without command I am sure to be met with the ferocious correction that he deems appropriate. Like a trained pet, I am to stay.

Stay.

Stay… wait with graceful patience until I am beckoned.

When he is away, the haunting space tears at my mind and heart but the memory of his grip on me remains. Over the distance through mere words, he can command just by reminding me what he could do with a flick of a wrist, or the pressure he creates between his fingers. Just words but my body can remember and it reacts, sending my heart in to a beating frenzy. This is his reminder and gift that I belong to him. I am to ALWAYS remember that I am his possession - his whore. I am his plaything that he will pick up, use, ignore and discard whenever he feels the need.

I serve no other purpose but to be what his hands mold me to be. I am conquered by him, slain and exposed. He can pierce through my pathetic attempt to protect myself. A single touch – or even just the promise of a touch – and I willingly bear all my darkness and secrets. He sees my broken pieces and without a second thought he brushes them aside and reminds me that I am a treasure – HIS treasure. I gift every part of myself to him. There is no choice. There is only his way, his desires.

…and his hands are there.

Ready.

Waiting.

Calculating.

Holding me completely – always… In ALL ways.

< Message edited by mydomswhore -- 5/6/2013 7:33:14 PM >

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RE: Writings from my Tumblr - 5/9/2013 1:56:26 PM   
zpenguin


Posts: 123
Joined: 1/14/2013
Status: offline
I like your writings :) keep it up

_____________________________

http://www.bdsmadultfulltilt.tumblr.com
http://www.adultfulltilt.com

<---^Zpenguin^--->

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RE: Writings from my Tumblr - 5/9/2013 4:55:22 PM   
mydomswhore


Posts: 10
Joined: 4/19/2013
Status: offline
Thank you, I appreciate you taking the time to read.

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RE: Writings from my Tumblr - 5/16/2013 5:15:39 PM   
mydomswhore


Posts: 10
Joined: 4/19/2013
Status: offline


Strength

There are times when you find it hard to breathe.
Times when the weight of life feels as if it will turn your bones to dust.

There will be times when crying out is all you seem to have strength for.
And still times when you feel you have no voice at all.

There will be days when the ache of loneliness will buzz in your mind like a fly trapped between the screen and the glass.

Days where pain outside is no match for the pain you feel inside.
Moments when you get ill thinking about all you struggle with.

You will find a wall blocking you.
You will lose your composure.
You may even lose your mind.

But when you can conquer…
When you hold out for just a bit longer…
When you can shove back the dark enemy and reach for that loving light…

You will find your strength.
Just when the pain or sorrow burns the most.
You will be lifted up from your lowest point.

All you have to do is try.
Your strength is inside…

…waiting for you to find it.

~justhislittlewhore

(in reply to mydomswhore)
Profile   Post #: 10
RE: Writings from my Tumblr - 5/16/2013 5:18:37 PM   
mydomswhore


Posts: 10
Joined: 4/19/2013
Status: offline
**Fantasy**

He has a home for me in a standing cupboard. I am displayed among his toys (his tools of torment), arms outstretched and tied to a clothing bar slightly above my head. I am hung up with the clothing items he keeps for me to wear as well as clothes he wears for when our play gets a bit messy or soaked in sweat. I stand perched on one high heel while my other leg is tied bent, raised to the side, and secured to the side wall of my little room— leaving my pussy exposed and vulnerable. Under me is a silver bucket beside my lonely foot. It took me a moment to realize its purpose. He intends to keep me here… but for how long?

The panic began to build in my chest.

Barely any light slips in between the doors and at my feet, but I have been in my little room long enough that my eyes have adjusted. Through the tiny space in the door I can see that it is locked or chained somehow. Realizing this, I began to struggle with my bonds. The anxiety is rising and I feel as if the air is getting thick and hard to breathe. The ropes bite into me as I tug my hands away from the wall, but the knot holds. I try my leg but again, no slip of the knot.

A whimper catches in my throat. Swallowing down the sound, I feel the collar move on my neck. I shift my head around to adjust the metal against my skin. I lean slightly forward to look down and felt the tug of the collar. My neck is secured to the wall behind me, keeping me from being able to place my head against the door.

A shadow crosses the path of the light and there is a tap on the door.

“Still alive in there?” he asks sarcastically.

I pause for a moment, holding back a sassy reply. He has taught me better than that so the question becomes not IF he will punish my backtalk, but which of the tools around me would he use? My response must have took too long because he slaps the door loudly.

“ANSWER ME, WHORE!” he snarled.

“Y-yes!” I stammered. “Please… please open the door. I feel like I’m suffocating.” Air to my lungs is coming in short panting breaths now. My panic has taken me almost completely but I’m hanging on as long as I can.

Breathe… be calm. Don’t talk back.

“Awww…” his voice softens slightly. With a hint of mocking, he continues. “Is it dark in there? Are you starting to get scared? I thought you were my brave little sub. I thought you said you could handle a silly little box. Ready to use your word already, and just because it’s a little stuffy in there?”

“NO!” I cry out. My ego is not ready to fall for that. I breathe deeply and straighten my form. The ropes lessen their bite at my tender skin. “It’s just that I would like to use the bathroom if I may. I don’t know if I can hold it.” In my mind I am hoping that he isn’t far enough into this play to force me to use the bucket, or maybe he has other plans for that… I hope.

The chain rattles on the door. As it opens I am greeted with the relief of the cool air rushing in.

“You’re a lucky little slut. I wasn't going to open the door for you, but since you asked so nicely to use the bathroom, I wanted to watch.” A smirk dances across his face. Looking at my hands expectantly, I am prepared to hold my balance on my leg. Moments pass and my eyes meet his. He stands, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“Here!?” I question. “You want me to go right here? But I can’t! I’ve tried for you and I just can’t!” My eyes are pleading with him now. Many attempts before, at times when I really WANTED to do this for him, and my body fought viciously against it.

My brain is whining now – I can’t! I just can’t! DAMMIT he just doesn’t get it…. and this angle my leg is in… what if I miss the bucket? I can’t even see the damn thing fully. And what then? Will he make me drink it? OH, HELL NO.

As my mind rages in protest, his hand raises up to my face. I flinch, and a small chuckle at my timidity rises in him. He holds my chin and looks at me seriously.

“Get out of your own way and do what you are told.” His eyes are warm but his voice is cold and commanding. “You do this, and I will reward you. You don’t and you get to stay in this box all damn day. I have work to do and I can’t wait around for your lazy ass.”

Reluctantly, I adjust my balance. I try to look down at the bucket and feel the tug at my neck again. I look at him accusingly, but his face holds indifference. I shift. I sink my body down a bit. I angle this way and that, whining as I go. He rolls his eyes and reaches for the doors.

“NO! Wait… please!” I plead. I take a deep breath. My body fights as I try to push out the fluid. Another breath and then another push… Careful! Go slow, I tell myself. Don’t miss the bucket. He crosses his arms again, legs slightly astride and intently watching my pussy for action.

Another deep breath as I calm and focus my mind. Then I feel it. My eyes dart up to his as a small dribble starts. I hear the liquid tap the metal. I let go of a little more urine with triumphant yet nervous laugh. THAT’S IT! YES! I feel the warm liquid splatter on my leg. My flow is growing more confident but a small shift moves the stream across the rim of the bucket. The pee splashes on the wooden floor and splatters on my shoe. Focusing again, I adjust my aim.

Who gives a shit? I tell myself. I’m doing it! Fucking FINALLY!

He moves in and embraces me. One hand cups my pussy, interrupting the flow of warm fluid from my body. He softly rubs the saturated flesh, slipping a finger inside for a moment.

“That’s my good girl,” he coos. “That wasn't so hard, was it?”

I chuckle, eyes closed. With a soft moan and a sultry voice, I reply, “You have no idea… But it was worth it for this.” My hips are moving in slow circles, feeling his finger buried in me and his palm against my clit. He works on my wet pussy, whispering in my ear to cum for him. I can smell his body on the clothes around me and I burry my face into his neck, taking his smell in. The toys rattle at my movement and in that small moment I can remember flashes of delicious pain each and every one has caused me. The heat of my urine drenched embarrassment and the desire to do whatever he asks drops me into an orgasmic flood. With his fingers hooked inside me, and one arm around my back, I lift my free leg and wrap it around him. The rope is biting into my wrists but I don’t even care. The overflow of endorphins carry me though the waves of my orgasm.

As I catch my breath and lower myself back to my one legged stance, he releases me. There is a satisfied look on his face.

“Now,” he begins, a cold, evil smile tugs at his soft lips. “Are you ready to clean up your mess?”

(in reply to mydomswhore)
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