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5.8.2016: The News: A Mother’s Day Treat

The News

I blinked at the line of plastic indicators. All 12 of them said the same thing in one way or another. Pluses, double lines, and words popped up on the little screen. One even flashed it to my attention. There was no turning back. I didn’t believe the first two tests that came in the same box. No, they had to be faulty. But 12 more later, different brands, shapes, color scales, and even random wait times later, it was confirmed. I sighed in defeat. This wasn’t a part of the agreement. Agreeing to be His didn’t include pregnancy. We are in sync and enjoying the relationship as it is. There was no room for a baby. After trial and a lot of error, I’d finally gotten it right this time. Found someone that made me cherish my submission enough for me to offer it without worry. This couldn’t be happening.

The happiness that I should be feeling was there, somewhere buried under what “ifs” and “why now’s”. I sighed sitting on the toilet with the seat cool against my bum cheeks. My hands were locked together covering my mouth. I shook as I thought over my reality. The scary part was that I wanted it. Not because I don’t believe in abortion but because it was His. My gift of submission was being rewarded with a present of life. He’d never spoken of children, marriage, and forever. We lived in the current and had always been safe. Except…

I remembered it clear as the air I breathed. Several weeks ago, the condom I’d declared faulty had not only broken but put me in my current predicament. He’d mentioned nothing about the possibilities that had unfolded. He’d simply cleaned us, retrieved the broken pieces, cleaned me again, and cuddled. Who really knew what that meant? I sighed again and hoped that I could get through tonight before I had to tell him. I’d planned a really nice seduction scene but the initial agenda didn’t include an aftercare with confessions of the unplanned pregnancy.

Everything was already in place; I just needed to get my ass in gear. I cleared the counter in one swipe into the garbage can and put it underneath the sink. Out of sight, out of mind; hopefully. I showered letting the water soothe me. Rivulets of water cascaded over my body as the shower head jet strands of liquid resolve over me. Squeaky, I got out of and toweled off. I took extra care of using honeydew and melon oil to scent and moisturize me skin. It was His favorite, marking me as edible. I shivered as it dawned on me that I would be powerless in just a couple of hours. It stirred something deep yet felt peaceful too.

I sat out both wine glasses on the table while cooling the bottle in the chiller. Dinner had been in the crock-pot since this morning. Beef stew perfumed the air and the bread was waiting to be warmed with the basil butter I’d made earlier in the week. The night I’d planned was perfect but now I didn’t know how I was going to manage it with the heavy news on my shoulder. I took my glass from the table and poured cranberry juice to the rim. I took several sips before heading to the window to sit where I got lost in the view, biding my time until He came home.

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***

“Isn’t that a sight for sore eyes.”

I turned to see Him watching me carefully. I looked over at the clock realizing just how much time had passed. My thoughts had taken over channeling out everything else. I turned, sitting my glass down on the sill, and kneeled before him.

“I’m sorry. Time got away from me.”

“It’s okay. What are you cooking? It smells amazing.”

“Your favorite. Beef stew.”

A hearty groan of approval sounded. I smiled needing his affirmation. He stepped closer and stroked my hair as I leaned onto his thigh. Perfection.

“It looks like someone wants to play hard.”

I smiled again knowing that he’d finally noticed the toys I’d laid out for him. I needed to be pushed and he’d given me permission to pick his weapons of destruction.

“Want to tell me what’s going on before we start?”

I shook my head hoping to skip the semantics. The silence was a giveaway that I’d better provide answers. I sighed.

“I’m stressed.”

“About?”

I opened my mouth to tell him and nothing came out. Tears rolled down my face but I didn’t move or speak. I knew in this moment that I couldn’t go any further. It was time to confess. The honesty that we’d built in our communication deserved more than a partial truth. His hand pulled my hair tipping my head back. There was no hiding my emotions from him and I didn’t try to once he’d exposed them. Lips devoured mine making me shiver and cry harder. I poured all of my emotion in to the one single kiss hoping that it wouldn’t be the last time. Tongues clashed and he took control as easily as taking candy from a baby. Baby…

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He pulled away kissing over my neck and shoulders. It was gentile, loving, and possessive all at the same time. I couldn’t help but to sober a bit as he laid claim. By the time that he’d gotten to my nipple and sucked, I’d forgotten the issue. My brain was short circuited completely when he pulled each one with his teeth adding pressure. Being sensitive there, the pain shook my core quickly giving me nowhere to hide. I wanted him.

“Please.” I begged for more.

He pulled away and squatted in front of me. “You will please me, but first my girl is going to tell me what bothers her so much.”

I opened my eyes staring into the most intense gaze I’d ever seen. It wasn’t scary or intimidating. It radiated strength and love, warmth and firmness, dedication and honesty. It was a reflection of what I gave him and I knew it was time. No more holding back. I took his free hand and moved it down the center of my body until it reached my stomach and I held it there firmly. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“Every Master needs an understudy.”

He looked at me studying my expression. Openly, I returned the emotion I saw in his eyes, hoping I wasn’t imagining it. The corner of his lips turned upwards and his boyish grin was a good indication of how our son would look.

“Every submissive needs to find new ways to give more of herself.”

“Yes, Sir. I have.”

“And it’s so fucking beautiful.”

Warmth exploded over me and I squealed. He let go of my hair just as I jumped onto him, knocking him over, onto the floor. I kissed him repeatedly and he chuckled. I stared down at him and he looked up into my eyes.

“Did you think I wouldn’t be happy?”

I blushed and looked away from his gaze.

“Punishing you tonight will be the highlight of my day.” He remarked before spanking my bare ass.

I squeaked, caught off guard.

“Yes, Sir.”

He rolled us over pinning me to the floor. I moaned, submitting fully to the sexiest man in the planet. He stared down at me as he ground his pant cladded hips into my bare ones. His bulge signaled just how much he wanted me. He released one hand to unfasten his pants and to slide inside of me in one sweep. I’d wanted him all day despite my nervousness. Holding me down had focused all of my desire to the pulsing muscles in my cunt. I was beyond ready. I arched my back at the intrusion welcoming every inch of him.

“No need for a condom is there?”

“No Sir.” I whispered.

My body already had spasms wrecking it. He tilted his hips, realigning mine. I felt him deeper than I could ever recall. He put his hands back into mine pinning me completely. As he worked his hips grinding into me I felt marked. It was the first time that we’d never used protection. The sentiment wasn’t lost on me, giving meaning to the new tears sliding into the hair at my temples. Deep thrusts were welcomed by my body. I quivered, barely able to hang on to the lust building inside.

“You’re mine. Your body is mine. The child growing inside of you is mine. Your desires belong to me. Your happiness, it’s mine too.”

“Yes!” I moaned loudly. “Please, may I?”

He leaned down to my ear and his panting drove me insane with need. I was so wet, coating us with enough of my nectar to feed an army. Finally, he spoke between gritted teeth.

“You’ll come with me. Only then will I allow you to release your need for me. Mine!”

Harder he took me. Faster. Wilder. It was so intense that I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began. His hips bucked and he snarled as his released took over his body. Right there with him, I gave in to the call of his seed.

“Yours!” I screamed while releasing.

“Fuck!” I shouted. Another orgasm ripped from him and I whimpered encouragingly.

Time moved, we didn’t. Gasping, panting, and trying to ride the high of the best sex. Eventually, he rolled to my side and pulled me close. I nestled in and closed my eyes content.

“You’re still getting punished tonight. Right after I finish up the beef stew.”

I smiled. “Yes, Sir.”

“That wasn’t wine in that glass was it? Another infraction?”

I shook my head smiling wider. “Cranberry juice.”

He hummed in approval. “My good girl.”

“Yes. Yours.”

(Image #1 source: Tumblr, Image #2 source: Tumblr)

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4.19.2016: Not Love 101

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Not Love 101

Today has been spent discussing various degrees of love and relationships. Discussing affairs of the heart isn’t my strong suit if you are looking for a “How to 101” guide. But when it comes to experience, I’ve got that in aces. My issue has never been finding love. It’s learning to keep love or maintaining it. That lesson was one that my heart missed out on. I am truly a romantic, but everyone has their limits. Unfortunately, mine has caused me to be resistant to it recently. I’ll explain.

I know that when I fall for someone, it’s usually hard and fast. I stopped asking why a long time ago. I enjoy being in love. I enjoy relationships of all variety, by this I mean with family and making friends. Love is no exception. I’m naturally a social butterfly despite my quirkiness, or maybe “in spite” is a more apt description. So finding people to love is never the issue. It’s the quality of love that is.

I need the kind of love that understands my needs and works to meet them. Not because they have to, but because they want to. It’s necessary for me to feel the other person’s presence even when they aren’t around because they care. Respect for my ideas, wants, needs, and desires even if they aren’t shared in view. Communication should be a given, but it too has to be discussed. Feeling valued by the other person seems excessive in the list because it’s a summary of the previously mentioned list. To me it has its own set of purpose here. Value can’t be learned, coaxed, or taught. It’s something that either depreciates with the experience of the relationship or grows into something beyond measure.

Every heartbreak comes with a lesson and you can choose to ignore it or embrace it fully. My theory is that for every time you ignore a particular lesson, you have to learn it at a greater expense. Maybe that’s the reason why I’m guarded. The tutorial was missed or ignored subconsciously. Either way, the exposure to the smaller lessons weren’t completely dismissed. (I keep separate bank accounts, thank you very much for that lesson. lol) I try to grow and walk away a better woman. I also make sure to spread the word. (Seriously, having your own bank account is always wise. J)

Lately though, I have to wonder how I’m supposed to approach love. I’ve been hurt too many times not to deflect away from cupid’s arrow. Running seems easier and comes at a lower price. Or does it? How do I know that I haven’t already passed by MY love on the street? How do I know if I had it in my grasp but let it go because I didn’t fight hard enough? Did they fight hard enough? Were my needs dismissed? Were theirs? Is the person reading the words on your screen them (No, I’m not flirting! Maybe.) Are they minutes away? States? Countries? Planets? (Okay, not really but you get my drift. J)

More importantly, though I’m guarded and hopeless, I’m still open enough to explore my issues. Everybody comes with their own set of baggage. You either find somebody to help you unpack it and wear it proudly or you zip it up and move on to the next destination. What most people want, at least in my fantasy world, is the first option. You have to know when to unzip and when to buckle back down. I’m still looking for that person that wants to share their baggage with me. Maybe we can buy a matching set to make it more fun and organized. This isn’t an ad but a very long letter to the broken hearts to say, “Love is out there and together we can conquer it one post at a time.”

A very dear friend asked me to share this today and I have. Who knows what may come of it. Maybe it’ll inspire stories. Maybe it’ll inspire questions about coping. Maybe this is wasted space. Maybe I’m asked for advice on the color palette that you should choose for your kitchen. Either way… my Comment Section below and Email are always open! Until next time… Welcome To My World!