The real-life adventures of a girl who is willing to try just about anything.

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Epic Weekend: 6 Months Later

[This is a follow-up post to the tale of my Epic Weekend. Click here for part onepart twothe finale, and Aftermath.]


It has now been about 6 months since my wonderful, Epic Weekend. Six months since he broke me, before my closest friends and perfect strangers alike. I thought that perhaps you would want an update on the situation.

The two-hour drive home on Monday was fairly intense, and not only because every time I shifted in my seat, I was reminded of the bruises that covered my ass. My mind was churning with the myriad possibilities that could go along with this new change in our relationship dynamic.

I was beside myself with excitement. I felt like a whole new world had opened up for us. While I am truly naturally dominant, a part of me has always yearned to be submissive. I like to care for and spoil my loves, do whatever I can to make them happy. Until such point as it is expected. Then it becomes a problem for me. It is said that true submission is a gift and that’s how I feel about it. I will give it freely (when deserved and inspired), but once it is demanded I have none to give.

Very few people in my life have ever inspired me to want to submit to them. I’m not very good at relinquishing that sort of control. I need someone who wants to take control and can handle it once he/she has it. I need to feel loved and appreciated in my service. And I don’t ever want to be thought of as inferior or beneath someone. It has to be someone who loves and respects me as an equal even though I choose to submit myself. That may seem like a tall order, but I know that it exists. I’ve seen it in action and I’ve been party to it.

Before the events of the prior week and including the time just after he met our Diva, Roland had not expressed any interest in BDSM. He knew of my history, my avid interest in getting involved in the lifestyle again, and supported me in it, but he professed to not have any desire for it himself. In fact, he was quite adamant about his disinterest.

But one day he had an epiphany that his attitude toward it were due to feelings tied to a previous relationship where they had briefly dabbled in the lifestyle (at his ex’s request). Having that realization wrought a change in his feelings about it and he opened himself up to the possibilities.

All of that combined to form the perfect storm on the night of our first visit to the Woodshed. Everything fell into place.

So on the drive home, we did a lot of talking. He expressed a lot of uncertainty about how far he wanted to go. I explained that I was fully willing to go as far as he wanted to, up to and including 24/7 total power exchange (TPE). In my mind I was rapidly going through all the different ways in which I could give up control to him. I kept throwing out ideas for the rules and restrictions he could place on me, things to give me structure and discipline. The littlest details made me giddy, like the thought of sitting at his feet with the other subs at the munches. I think I actually squealed with delight thinking about it.

Looking back, I think I might have completely blown his mind and overwhelmed him. Here I was, someone who’d already had experience in this area despite having been dormant for so long, feeling like I had awoken from a deep sleep, ready to jump back into life again. And there he was, having essentially just opened a door to a practically new, unknown plane of existence. He just wasn’t ready for everything I was so eager to do.

What we, or rather what I, decided to do was to just try to behave as if our relationship was TPE. I would give myself rules and restrictions, things that I felt would please him. I felt that this would give him an idea of what it would be like, without him actually having to take control and figure out what he wanted me to do. I thought it might be the easiest way to show him what it would be like.

One of the things I started doing in the first week after our trip was going to bed when he did at night, instead of staying up online for an hour or three after he’d gone to bed. I would undress him from head to toe, starting with his shoes and finishing with his underwear. Once he was naked I would kneel before him to suck his cock. Then he would fuck me on the bed in whatever position he chose, and go to sleep afterwards.

I tried to wait on him hand and foot, pouting whenever he got something for himself. I let him make all the decisions about any plans. I didn’t talk back to him or verbally spar with him as I am wont to do. I called him Sir. Whenever I got home before he did, I greeted him at the door in prostrate position.

All of that lasted for less than two weeks. He just was not comfortable with it. He said that he was used to doing things for himself. He also said he didn’t want to get used to any of it, because he felt like at any moment I would decide that I didn’t want to do it anymore. He didn’t want to try to assume control in anything, because he expected that at some point I would rebel. He couldn’t get invested because he knew I am not truly submissive.

And as much as I would like for it to be otherwise, he’s right. To me, it’s a nice idea, but I just can’t do it all the time. I am a very willful creature. And moody. I can never be any one thing all the time. I can play at submission for a time, but it just doesn’t stick. It doesn’t come natural to me at all. Despite how much I love him and want to make him happy. How much I think I would enjoy his will being my own.

See, the first thing that got me interested in BDSM was the Sleeping Beauty trilogy by Anne Rice, closely followed by Exit to Eden (the book, not the atrocious movie adaptation). The idea of forced submission that I would eventually abandon myself to was my supreme fantasy. I longed for a Castle or Village or Eden island resort where I would have no choice but to submit to the will of someone else. Essentially a world that does not and cannot exist at this time.

Where are we now, you might ask? Well, I submit myself to him on the infrequent occasions when he tells me he wants it, in whatever fashion he chooses. It may be that he explicitly tells me. Or he grabs me by the hair at the nape of my neck to direct me. Sometimes he just gives me a look or changes the tone of his voice. And then I do my best to give him the gift of my submission. I don’t fight it, I allow him to take it in his own way. For now, that’s how it works for us.

Epic weekend: Aftermath

[This is a follow-up post to the tale of my Epic Weekend. Click here for part one, part two and part three.]

Although it’s been a while, the tale of my Epic Weekend didn’t end at the Woodshed. What happened afterward was just as important. So now let’s slip comfortably back into that weekend, starting with the limo ride back to the hotel…

What a night it had been. I was buzzing with endorphins, my head was firmly rooted in the clouds, and the cheeks of my face would likely ache as much as the cheeks of my ass, only from smiling. In the back of the limo on the way back to the hotel, I was completely melted against Roland. Although we had a full load of 5 other people, for the ride back to the hotel nobody existed but he and I.
We had the limo driver stop at IHOP on the way back to the hotel so we could get some breakfast to go. I was in no shape to to be seen in public, or even walk really, as I was barely more than a puddle of goo. Roland went in with the others to order food and I stayed curled up in the back of the limo, smiling and sighing contentedly to myself. It took about 15 minutes for the orders to be ready and then we were on our way again.
Upon our arrival back at the hotel and before eating, I went into the master bedroom that Roland and I were sharing to turn on the water to fill the huge, pillared jacuzzi tub. There really wasn’t a whole lot of conversation while we each ate our breakfasts, at least not that I remembered. All I remember is being warm and fuzzy and floaty. And giggly. So very giggly.

By the time we finished eating, the tub was full of steaming-hot water. Roland and I excused ourselves to the bedroom and closed the door. The weekend was originally intended to be one filled with group debauchery. However, partially as a result of the unsexy news I got on the Friday before the trip and mostly because of how close I was feeling to Roland right at that moment, we spent the rest of our time that night alone.

I truly felt like a queen in this room.

He and I didn’t have much need for words at the time. We each undressed and slowly slipped into the inviting water of the tub. Of course, I could only sit very gingerly on the bottom. The hot water reignited the fire in my cheeks and made it difficult to sit in the tub at all. However, the encompassing warmth was worth any suffering.

While I washed the makeup from my face, Roland massaged my shoulders. After my face was clean, I let myself fall back against him and his arms wrapped around me. We sat like that but for a few moments before drowsiness threatened to overtake us. The hot water was just so very relaxing.

Roland broke the spell first, reaching over me to get my shower poof, loading it with peppermint soap, and then scrubbing my back and shoulders with it. He washed each of my arms in turn. Next he methodically worked the poof over my chest and breasts while still sitting behind me. When he finished, he gently nudged me forward so that he could stand, taking my hand to signal that I should stand as well. He washed the rest of my body in a thorough manner, paying careful attention to my sore behind. He put his hand on my shoulder, applied light pressure to let me know I should sit, and then he washed himself.

Once we were both clean and rinsed, Roland again took my hand and stood, pulling me up with him. Still holding my hand, he stepped out of the tub and helped me out as well. He grabbed a nearby towel and used to it to dry me off before drying himself. He stepped forward and kissed me while leading me a few steps to the bed.

I broke our kiss and spoke for the first time. I asked if he would make love to me. That sounds cheesy, I know. But generally, our sex tends to be very rigorous and sometimes rough. What I wanted that night was for him to be slow and sweet and I told him so. He agreed and lowered me to the bed.

He took his time kissing me all over my body and trailing his fingertips over every square inch of my skin. I sighed, gasped, moaned, and whimpered. My whole body was awake and tingling. Finally after an unknown length of time, he moved between my legs and slid his cock into my pussy. We moved against each other, matching rhythm, with my legs wrapped around his waist and our lips locked together.

I had been playing with clit and was getting close to orgasm. He had pulled away from our kiss, standing up on his knees and I could see by his expression that he was close as well. Looking into his eyes, I made another request, “When we cum, will you tell me that I belong to you? That you love me? And say my name?” He looked a little confused and asked me if I did not already know. I replied that I just wanted to hear him say it.

Less than a minute later, the moment had arrived. As he thrust harder and faster, he looked into my eyes and said to me, “Did you not know… that even before tonight… even before the ‘Shed… you have always belonged to me. You are mine. I love you, Tonya.” As soon as the words were said, I burst into tears and we both exploded. There is no question that it was the biggest, best, and longest orgasm I have ever had in my life. My whole body quaked and shaked and the trembling afterward seemed to last forever. He collapse into my arms and for one of the few times in our history, we fell asleep almost immediately, entangled in each other’s arms.

The next morning (which was only a few hours later, actually, as the sun was just rising when we went to sleep) we were still wrapped around each other and I’ve never felt so close to him. We could hear the others moving about and packing up to go. Roland and I were going to be staying for another day, but everyone else had to return home that afternoon.

We went for a late breakfast/early lunch with everyone. All during the meal, I was in a state to which I am completely unaccustomed: I was giggly and blushy and bashful. I was practically Velcroed to Roland’s side. I felt like a young girl in love for the first time. Jane and Lucy had both known me for about a decade and neither had ever seen me behave anything remotely close to that. Everyone teased me incessantly, even our waittress, but all I could do was giggle and bury my face in Roland’s shoulder.

After we parted ways with the rest of the group, we went grocery shopping to get stuff for dinner because we planned to spend the rest of the afternoon and evening curled up watching movies in the room. It was just a quiet, relaxing time spent luxuriating in the newfound closeness in our relationship. As we didn’t get a lot of sleep the night before, we went to bed around 10pm, but not before making love once more.

It was the best ending for the best, most epic weekend of my life.

[Please, follow along as I tell you about what life is like for us 6 months after that weekend.]

Epic weekend: How he broke me, finale

[While each stands alone, including this one, you may want to catch up on parts one and two first.]
“It’s your turn now,” he said.
My heart skipped a beat at his tone. Of course I hadn’t forgotten that I’d asked him if I could be next. I just got a bit wrapped up in my scene with Tammy. I wasn’t expecting him to be right there, waiting to work my flesh. I giggled and shivered with anticipation. 
He stepped over to the array of implements laid out on the table from where I had just used them. Up until this point, he had only ever spanked me with his hand, except for the night of Valentine’s Day when he used my two floggers on me. Tonight I had added selections from a friend’s toy bag, so I briefly described the finer points of each and suggested an order in which they could be used. It was the same order I used them on Tammy, going from light and soft to heavy and hard.
Once his questions were answered, I asked him how much he wanted me to strip. He said I could go as far as I was comfortable. I took off everything but my stockings and my panties, stood on my tiptoes to kiss him, and turned toward the Cross. He didn’t bind me to it, I just leaned against it with my arms crossed in the V. I rested my chin on my arms, sighed contentedly, and waited for his lashes to begin.

He began as I had suggested, with the small black and blue suede flogger with twisted tails. I like this flogger for warming up, as I mentioned previously. Since it is very light, it offers more of a sting than a thud, which is my preferred flogger sensation. However, the stings made fast work of waking up the skin on my back, shoulders, and ass cheeks, although he did not use it for long as the weight was not to his liking. 

He skipped over the unwieldy bungee flogger and went for the purple and black buckskin instead. I loved the way each swing caressed my skin and left behind the slightest sting, but it was also not heavy enough for me. Even if he put his full force into it, he would never be able to hit me hard enough. That being said, each lash I received released tension in my neck and shoulders, relaxing me more and more. If it was a skill that I possessed, I would’ve begun to purr then.
After using the buckskin flogger up and down my back and across my cheeks for a while, he still was not satisfied. He put it to the side and reached for the tool that is the best extension of his arm: my heavy black suede flogger. While Big Green is my favorite for the sheer weight and force behind the tails, this flogger is the personal favorite of my collection. I love to use it on others and I discovered on VD that I love it to be used on me as well. Each swing is the perfect combination of thuddy blunt force and stinging bite. Although he never would, I believe that if he hit me hard enough, this flogger could break my skin and draw blood. 

A few strikes in, the first of many moans escaped my lips. I lifted my head from my arms so that I could uncross and wrap them around the upper arms of the cross, gripping them lightly. The best part of our session had finally begun. I was completely warmed up and my flesh yearned for for more. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Everything beyond me, him, the flogger, and the Cross pressed against my body ceased to exist. I alternated between melting into the wood and pushing myself away from it, to meet his strikes halfway.

It was not long before my skin was tender and extremely sensitive to even the most delicate touch. During a short break in his rhythm, he came in close behind me, grabbed one of my pigtails and pulled my head back so that he could kiss me. The touch of his soft, sensual lips on mine after the bite of the leather was such a contrast that it took my breath away. As he kissed me, he trailed his fingertips and nails across my back. My whole body shuddered as I moaned. I felt wetness drip out of my cunt to soak my panties. He let go of my hair and my head lolled forward. My chin nestled once again in the upper V of the Cross as he continued my beating.
Not long after that I guess he decided then that I’d had enough flogging (which is practically never possible), because the next thing I felt was a sharp sting on my ass. I didn’t know what it was, but it hurt like hell! For the first time I really flinched. Our scene took a definite turn from there. Before that moment, while there were some painful strikes, for the most part it was very warm and relaxing to me. This was altogether different. Instead of pushing my ass out to meet his strikes, I was pulling away from them. I went from lightly gripping the Cross, to grasping it, and digging my fingers in with each lick. My breathy moans became loud groans and cries. The first tears started to gather in my eyes and a few spilled over.

I don’t know how long he continued with what I only later discovered were just the tails of my favorite flogger (it FELT like a single tail!!!), but he stopped only long enough to quickly change implements. Next came a hard smack with my leather paddle. I didn’t have to look back to see what it was; I could tell by the sound it made. Again, this was an implement I loved using on others, but hadn’t had much experience receiving. My ass was on fire by this point and each firm slap only accentuated it. I tried to turn my cheeks away, but he planted his hand against the center of my back to hold me in place while he paddled me extensively.

I love seeing stars

A short time later, he lifted his hand and stepped away for a moment. I was trying to catch my breath when I was distracted by cries of real agony elsewhere in the dungeon to my right. I stole a glance in that direction to see if I could determine the source. My eyes were met by the asses of two young girls bent over a table. Blood was flowing freely down their cheeks. Instantly I became woozy at the sight and turned my head away. In addition I felt like a complete wuss for thinking the trials of my own ass were bad. Little did I know how much worse they were going to get.

My torture began in earnest then, as Roland was right there again, this time with the riding crop in his hand. As if he had radar to guide him, he set to smacking me with the crop all of the spots that hurt the worst, also targeting my super-sensitive, soft inner thighs. My tears leaked in abundance then, wetting my cheeks even as my pussy felt as if would flood. I writhed and jerked as he used the cane portion across the backs of my thighs and calves. When I danced from one foot to another, he immediately brought the crop down on the soles of my feet. Without actually leaving the cross, I tried to move my body as far away from him as possible, to free myself from the endless litany of his strikes.

What happened next is a moment that will be forever frozen in time in my heart and mind. I cannot imagine that the perfection of that one instant can ever be equaled. Thinking of it right now, more than two months later, sends shivers down my spine, blankets my skin in gooseflesh, and makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Roland stepped close enough that his body was against mine but barely touching. He put one hand on the back of my neck, leaned in to my ear, and uttered a barely-audible, single word, “Behave.”

With no hesitation whatsoever, I halted all movement. My tears stopped. Where my nerves had previously felt jangled by the pain I was undergoing, they were stilled. My pulse slowed and my breath eased. I calmly leaned against the Cross as I had in the beginning. Not an ounce of tension remained in my entire body. It was like I was a terribly wrinkled shirt that had been smoothed all at once. I have never in my life experienced anything like it.

I could not tell you a single thing about what he did to me after that. There’s no way for me to even begin to guess how much longer I remained on the Cross. All I remember is that eventually he was done. I only knew it was over when he came up behind me, turned me around, and enveloped me in his arms. I rested my head on his shoulder and I felt like I was home.

He held me and comforted me for some time and then tilted my chin up to face him. He tenderly kissed my forehead, my eyes, my cheeks, and finally my lips. He squeezed me tightly.

I started to shiver then, not with desire, but with cold. The world around me came back into focus and I realized I was standing mostly naked in the middle of a warehouse. I was also getting dizzy. “I need to sit down.”

Roland gently escorted me to a nearby couch after first grabbing a towel for me to sit on and a blanket to wrap around me. (The Woodshed is excellently supplied for aftercare and comfort.) He asked if I would like a cup of coffee and I only nodded, as I was not quite yet capable of speech. He returned in no time and I gladly accepted and sipped the hot liquid. I was a happy puddle of girl.

When I’d mostly recovered a few minutes later, I saw that he was protectively standing a few feet away, watching a fire-cupping scene at a nearby table. (Something I tried a bit later, but didn’t care for. A tale for another time.) I looked up at him and I felt that everything about my countenance exuded love. He finally looked down and noticed. With an embarrassed grin, he inquired, “What’s that face for?”

“This face?” I said, circling a finger around my visage. “You don’t recognize this face?” Again I circled.

“No, what is that?”

“This is my ‘worshiping you’ face, Sir,” I replied.

“Oh yeah?”

When I nodded to the affirmative, he told me to prove it. I asked how and he pointed to the floor in front of him. I was on my knees before him faster than he could blink an eye. I beamed up at him from my new lower vantage point.

He pointed to his feet. “Kiss them,” he commanded.

Without sparing a second’s thought about it, I leaned down and lovingly kissed each of his shoes. Never before had I publicly, or even privately, given myself over so willingly and completely to another. I had been broken. For the first time in my life, I felt owned. I felt like I belonged to someone. I felt like I belonged with someone. I felt whole.

[In case you missed it, he gave his perspective as well.]

Content goes here

Tonight I just wanted to make a quick post, a quick recap of recent events. But SO MUCH has happened that I find it hard to narrow it all down, to just give the abridged version. I’m not very good at glossing over details. Really there’s just one thing I want to talk about, above all others.

With that being said, I’m finding it most difficult to find the words to even begin to talk about this weekend. It was beyond a doubt THE! BEST! weekend of my life up to this point. I have not been able to wipe off this giddy, shit-eating, blushing grin off my face for the past two days. It is just not possible to describe the happiness that I feel right now. I am alternately swooning and giggling and feeling faint and gasping for air and leaking tears of joy. The only phrase that comes close to capturing this level of emotion is, “my cup runneth over” and how incredibly cliche is that??

Right now I am more in love than I have ever been. And I feel truly and completely owned—mind, body, and soul. For the first time, I feel like I truly belong to someone. With someone. And nothing can make me feel more content than that.

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