Saturday, August 20, 2016

The ultimate compliment

"I trust you and your judgement. And you know what I'm ready for and not ready for."

"I do but I LOVE hearing you say that."

"I will do whatever you want."

I marvel at how safe Hando feels with me and how much he trusts me when he knows exactly what I'm capable of. 

He's read my blog. He's read the story the girl wrote about an incredibly brutal scene I did with her - one too intense to post here.

He's seen me deny my pet object. He's even commented on my meanness. 

And although I am usually capable of holding back my RAWR, he's seen me slip into the primal Domme headspace for a few moments. 

It's a place I try not to go with him. He's still so new and I feel more certain than he is that he's not ready for me to let my primal instincts free. He's not ready for the biting, spitting, face slapping let alone the stream of verbal humiliation that seems to flow from my mouth when I really cut loose. 

He knows what I'm capable of. He knows I could focus my brutality on him. In the best case scenario, he knows I could put him into a scene that pushes his limits in an uncomfortable way. 

And yet he completely trusts me. 

Am I worthy of that trust? With each deep breath I take as I fight not to sink deeper into the primal side of my Dommeness when I play with him, with each time I elect not to give voice to the naughty things in my head, as I continue to trust the instincts that have never let me wrong, I know that I am worthy of the trust. 

And yet I'm still amazed that he so completely trusts me. It's the ultimate compliment. 

Sunday, July 31, 2016

Lack of dickstraction and my perfect fuchsia dildo

I had my pet object in my bed in a matter of minutes after his arrival. No D/s play, just two people hungry for each other.

I didn't think about the brand new Holy Trainer 2 chastity device still in the packaging just a few feet away as I enjoyed being wrapped around him. If I had, I'd have probably been a little sad about the idea of locking him up. 

The truth is, I like fucking my subs. I just do. I enjoy connecting that way and physically, I just fucking like it. 

For me, D/s has always been about the sex. And I've always been a little conflicted about chastity. The mindfuck is a delicious but in the end, I still want a deep dicking that can't happen when his cock is locked up. 

Still, I gleefully locked my pet object's cock up not long after we had sex. After all, I had the keys. I could unlock him whenever I wanted, use his cock and then lock him back up again. 

The next day, he served me and two friends poolside. I enjoyed knowing he was collared, locked up in the black panties with SLUT spelled across the ass in rhinestones. I had fun tapping on the plastic encasing his cock and hearing him wince or sigh. Or both. 

Later that night, I helped him into my strap-on harness for the first time. After awkwardly pulling at the various straps, my perfect fuchsia dildo was perfectly position beyond his locked up cock. 

With that fuchsia dildo, he proceeded to give me the deep dicking I deserved. I never missed his cock. Not even a little. 

He was completely focused on me and my pleasure. Once he hit the perfect rhythm, depth and angle, I told him not to stop and then proceeded to have multiple orgasms all over my fuchsia cock. There was no dickstraction on his part because he couldn't feel a thing. 

Actually, the latter part of that last statement is not completely true. Miraculously, he seemed to know exactly when my pussy was pulsing around the fuchsia cock strapped onto his groin. His moans and gasps told me he was actually feeling it. 

Only he totally wasn't. He was just very, very focused on me. Not even a little bit dickstracted. 

I teased him about how good it felt. How my perfectly sized and shaped fuchsia dildo was the perfect cock. I told him I may never need to use his cock again. 

It was the heat of the moment - the kind of moment where something ridiculously hot flows out of my mouth on instinct, completely unplanned.

Sometimes I'm surprised by what comes out of my mouth in times like this. But always, upon examination later, I find my truest thoughts and feelings have been articulated.

In the days after his visit, I considered those words I'd uttered in the heat of the moment and asked myself, did I mean them?

Just like everything else I've said in the heat of the moment, it felt true even when the hotness has mostly subsided.

Does that mean that my days of having pseudo vanilla sex with my pet object are over? Not necessarily.

But as long as my perfect fuchsia dildo is nearby, there's a high probability I'll choose it.

My boy, my pet object

One night while under the influence, Dr Dom / Mr Subby reblogged a rather ridiculous tumblr picture with a rather ridiculous caption left by some random guy. When he reblogged it, he tacked onto the end, "I want to be @mistresslilyana's pet object."

When I saw the post the next day, I struggled to put together his statement, his use of the term 'pet object' and weave it together with the picture posted and the caption posted. There was simply no way to draw any real conclusions from his post at all. 

The kink world is full of interesting labels and terms. However, one that isn't used is 'pet object.'

I teased him about the 'pet object' reference and it became just one the many inside jokes we have. It was also a more serious discussion about what it means to feel like a pet object.

We really don't engage in any remote play and since we don't see each other often, the D/s aspect of our relationship hasn't escalated as rapidly as it might have if we lived closer. Still, after four years, I felt like it was time to take the next step.

I've always had a collar I've used with whomever I'm playing with. It's a very plain, black nylon dog collar I purchased at a pet store. Simple and intentionally devoid of anything that might encourage attachment. Whenever I put it on someone the first time, I always let them know it's a PLAY collar. I want to be very clear it doesn't belong to them nor does any significance go beyond play.

To me, collaring is BDSM marriage. I've never collared anyone before and I'm still not sure I'm ready. However, I felt like Dr Dom / Mr Subby had earned the gift of this own collar so before his last visit, I set about to buy one.

I checked my go to shopping source, Amazon, for collars and settled on a gorgeous black leather collar, thick and padded with pale pink leather and stitched in the same pale pink. Very classy.

The day of his arrival, I found the perfect tag and the machine you use to engrave your own tags at the second pet store I visited. On one side, I had MISTRESS LILYANA'S PET OBJECT engraved upon it. On the other, I used my real name.

I could barely wait to give it to him, but I managed to hold out until I could find a private moment with him the next day while he was serving my friends and me poolside.

He loved it. He wore it pretty much the rest of the day, even in the car. And he looked so fucking hot in it.

I took pictures of him wearing it. I took a close up that showed the engraved tag. And then my phone ate it.

When I told him I was going to blog about it, we agreed it was time to decommission his old nickname, Dr Dom / Mr Subby, and making it official.

So he's now officially dubbed 'pet object.' And he's got the collar to prove it.

Read blogs about Dr. Dom / Mr. Subby (before I changed his alias to 'my pet object')
Read blogs about my pet object

Thursday, May 12, 2016

Banana Pussy Motivation

"Sure you don't wanna make that "who gets some first" bet? Looks like your odds are better than mine." 

Hando had a gig that took him 2500 miles away for three months shortly after we began dating in March. 

"Sure," I said, enjoying the idea of a little healthy competition. "What's that bet? Think of something. It's little challenge to me as you'll do pretty much anything I ask without having to make a bet anyway."

"Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"Yep."

"Who says it has to be a "do something"... It could be a banana split. Or a prize."

"Ok suggest something." My mind had immediately gone for the gutter, it's true, but I was open to seeing what he would come up with. 

"Now you've got me thinking of all these big sexy things, but it doesn't have to be that huge a deal."

"Ok banana split then."

"Ok. That's good I guess."

"But whoever loses has to be the dish."

"You TOTALLY read my mind!"

"No way."

"Way."

"Ice cream is COLD. I don't wanna lose," I said. 

"Me neither! Now I have some extra motivation... And I kinda wanna eat a banana out of your pussy."

"Because getting laid isn't enough motivation."

"Ha! True.I'm totally guessing you're gonna win. But now I might have to go out tonight after work for the first time in a while." 

"Banana pussy motivation."

"BPM."

"Which will make you smile even more when you fuck her. Thoughts of BPM."

"True. I'll totally be thinking of that. She'll never know."

We talked and texted daily, often for hours, and usually covered how each of us were progressing. 

"She's not super cute, but she's age appropriate and probably DTF. Maybe the bet is winnable after all..."

"I'd be happy to lose the bet if if means you're getting laid," I responded. And it was true. 

"Awwww, #compersion #polyforthewin #icecream"

And there was the one rather lengthy discussion to define what winning actually meant. You'd think it would be pretty straight forward but considering my bisexual and kinky proclivities, it did require some definition.

"Does it have to be penis in vagina sex? What if I peg a guy?"

"You can't cum from pegging a guy so it shouldn't count."

"Oh yes I can!" 

"Oh. Well if I get a blow job and cum does THAT count?"

"Of course it doesn't. Ok, can we say it counts if someone's penis goes in a vagina or ass? Or if I have sex with a girl?"

He agreed but tried to convince me fucking Dr Dom / Mr Subby shouldn't count because he was a sure thing. I won that argument, mostly because he lives far enough away that a visit before Hando returned was not a sure thing. 

At first I was hellbent on winning. I really didn't want a banana in my pussy or cold ice cream anywhere on my body. I mentally ticked off the possibilities and focused on a few I felt like were easy prey. I even reached out to a couple of them. But my heart wasn't in it and I never broached the subject. 

The thing is, as good as I am at casual sex and keeping my emotions separate when I want to, I rarely fuck someone casually. And when I say rarely, I mean like once in past three years, maybe more. 

I just enjoy sex more when it's with someone with whom I have a connection. It's that simple. Not very slutty of me, I know. 

I decided to win or lose the bet organically. I was talking to women and men I was potentially interested in dating but in no hurry to seal the deal. And yet it still looked a bit like I was going to win as Hando was experiencing some challenges and it was looking like a visit from Dr Dom / Mr Subby, AKA "a sure thing," was going to happen before Hando's return. 

And then suddenly I received a text.

"The girl I told you invited me for drinks just texted me she just got fired! Gonna go to her place now and find out what happened. Tell you more later or tomorrow 😘"

Then less than an hour later: "Just won the bet... Well, I'm still winning it. She's on her way over."

"LOL good job honey! Have fun!"

I love that we have the kind of relationship where we can make bets on who gets laid first. That I can talk to Hando about Dr Dom / Mr Subby and potential partners. That I was genuinely happy he won the bet and had sex with someone else. 

The purity and unselfishness of compersion astounds me. It is a beautiful thing and I love experiencing it from both sides. I just didn't truly consider that it would mean ending up with a banana in my pussy. 

Sunday, March 13, 2016

You should

"Ooh looks like you have a little tiny bruise here," I said, touching an area of slightly discolored skin on Hando's shoulder about the size of a dime.

"I told you I get marked easily," he said. He glanced at his shoulder, "That's not very bad though."

"Well, I wasn't trying to leave a mark."

"You should have tried harder."

"Oh really," I said, pleasantly surprised. Or maybe I wasn't all that surprised. Despite his lack of D/s experience, he'd been giving me intermittent subby vibes since we'd met. 

"Yeah," he responded with a sigh. 

"I could do it again." It was a question, really. It was as close to asking permission as I could get in Domme-mode. And he'd definitely activated my Domme-mode with this line of discussion. 

"You should."

And I did. 

That night, I met him in a dark parking lot behind a breakfast restaurant. As we stood making out between our parked cars, I yanked the neck of his shirt aside looking for the mark I'd made.

"It's already fading," he said.

"I can fix that."

"I bet that you can."

"Oh I know that I can."

"You should."

"It will hurt," I said, again asking permission without asking.

He moaned in the way that already drove me crazy even though we'd only been seeing each other an impossibly short time. "I know."

I pulled back the neck of his shirt again and kissed the bruised spot gently. "You have to ask for it," I whispered against his skin.

"Please hurt me," he whispered.

And then I did.

"It's still stinging," he said a few minutes later.

"Good," I said. My inner sadist was happy.

"I usually hate it when someone leaves a mark on me. I don't know, why but with you I kind of like it."

"I know why," I said. And then I kissed him hard.

My boy, Hando Likekissinhim

D/s relationship status: Undecided

Relationship status: dating

I met Hando Likekissinhim expecting to make a new poly friend in March of 2016 but instead found a powerful and instantaneous connection. He's a musician in his mid forties with gorgeous hands who I truly adore kissing. Add to that a few of his references to the Force being strong with me and his alias was born.

Hando was curious about BDSM but inexperienced before we met. He'd read some of my blog so he had a little bit of an idea of what he was getting into. Still, I hadn't planned to push his submissive side until I found that he'd triggered my Domme-mode.

Read blogs about Hando Likekissinhim

Friday, January 8, 2016

My swinging New Year's Eve

Las Vegas locals understand New Year's Eve is amateur night. Tourists flood the strip, traffic is a nightmare and the weather is always bitter cold. But the Gentleman wanted to ring in the new year with me in a fun way and I agreed.

He'd booked us into a high end swingers party at a club with an after party for play. I'd been on their mailing list for years but had never attended an event. I donned fishnets, my sexiest heels and a cocktail dress and stepped back into swinging, an interest I'd previously abandoned. 

I've always enjoyed sharing. Threesomes are among my favorite sexcapades. But the one full swap I'd attempted years ago with my FMT was a failure and I've since grown to appreciate the quality sex that comes from a quality relationship. I'd also grown frustrated with trying to find youngish, attractive couples in the swinger community. 

There's something about being involved with a new person you really enjoy that gives you a new perspective on things and, never being one to avoid a new sexual adventure, I agreed to give swinging another shot.

During the first couple of hours of the party, we drank, flirted with the bartender and scoped out the other couples. I was pleasantly surprised at how young and attractive the other couples were and that it seemed the new guy and I had similar taste in women. 

As the night progressed and we consumed more alcohol, we began to get to know other couples. After toasting the new year and watching the fireworks at midnight, we returned to the warmth of the club to find one particularly hot couple at the bar. She was wearing a sexy dress that displayed most of her amazing breasts and one of those New Years crowns.

"Go ask her where she got her hat," Gent suggested. I'd warned him I'm terrible at hitting on women and he was "helping." I protested a little and then went up to her. 

"Happy new year!"

"Happy new yeeeear to you too!" She said with a thick, Southern accent. 

"Where did you get that?" I asked pointing at her crown. 

"That barteender gave it to me," she said. I just wanted to keep her talking so I could try to guess where she was from. It's a hobby of mine, placing a Southern accent. I'm pretty good at it. 

"Wow her accent is worse than yours," Gent declared. "You're from Texas aren't you?"

She and I both said, "No," at the same time. 

"Ah'm fruum Georgia," she said. 

"Ooh mah gawd," I said, my own accent emerging, "I'm from Canton! Where are yoooou fruum?"

She reached out to touch her date in excitement. "Did yooou heear where she's fruum? She's from Canton!"

Her date looked at me with something between terror and delight in his eyes. "Ooh mah gawd! When did you graduate high school?"

"'91. You?"

"Ah'm 9 years older'n you," he said. 

I gave him my name and asked his. He told me his name and it was the name of someone I knew but didn't know well.

"Ooh yeeaah! I kneew you! You were on the yearbook staff riiight?"

His date laughed and punched him playfully. "Tell her who you reeeally are!"

He somewhat reluctantly gave me his real name. "Ah'm sorry but ah just met you at a swingers party in Vegas! I didn't want to tell you who I reeeally ahm!"

I had never known him but I'd known his sister. And of course we knew all of the same people having grown up in the same tiny town. 

We probably spent a half hour comparing notes on people we knew and places we'd frequented, my accent becoming thicker by the moment. She was from the next town over and knew my cousins so she had something to contribute. My date, however, was lost in our heavy accents and talk about people and places he didn't know. Gent laughed that they probably knew more about me than he did. 

"Ah bet you've been out on Turtle Creek," the guy said.

"Of course ah have! I had sex on the creek bank with mah first boyfrieend. Had a huuuuge bruise on my back from the rocks for a week!"

And so it went for the rest of the evening. Like every boy that grew up in my hometown, he'd fished in the lake my grandparents had lived on. He'd had beers at the bar my eighth grade crush now owned. At the after party we continued to learn how much more we had in common, such as neither his lady nor I wore panties. 

Gent and I circulated around the after party, my fishnets in his suit pocket like a naughty handkerchief, making out with each other in pretty much every room in the house. I may or may not have ruined his shoes when he made me squirt in the laundry room but I definitely sucked his cock in the bathroom. 

We didn't swing but had a lovely, sexy evening nonetheless. At about 3:45 AM, we decided to call it a night and went to find our new friends to say our goodbyes. 

"Y'all are leavin'?" the guy from my hometown protested. His partner was happily being chatted up by two single guys while he played pool. 

"Yeah, it's late. But it was so great to meet y'all," I said as I moved to hug him. 

Somewhere in the process of untangling myself from his hug, he kissed me. And I kissed him back. 

"Mmmm NOW I believe you're from Canton," he said. 

"What? You didn't believe me before?!?"

"Nah."

"It's not like we don't know all of the same people or anything."

"No, you coulda been lyin' to me but now that I've kissed you, I KNOW you're from Canton. You kiss just like a Canton girl. Dayum. Yummm."