50 Shades of Humiliation

Let me begin this post by saying I'm in no way a book snob. I read all kinds of things, nonfiction, autobiography, chick lit, teen crappy paranormal romance (yes, I mean you, you trashy Twilight series).

And when I travel, I like really mind-free reading. Fluff, so to speak. So there I was, flying over the ocean after a truly amazing visit with my Master. I'm reading the first of the 50 Shades of Grey books. The Virgin Atlantic flight attendant says to me “how can you read that on the plane, it's so steamy!?” I look up and start stuttering. She continues, “That's the first one, right?” and then she calls across the aisle to another flight attendant and they both start chattering away about how much they loved the series. I began to DIE of embarrassment. I wasn't embarrassed because I was on a plane full of people, and now anyone who'd heard of the series realizes I'm reading a (now getting lots of media attention) BDSM book. I'm dying of humiliation because I've been busted reading a really shitty book. It's like Harlequin BDSM. I feel like what used to be my dark secret (serving my Master) has now been white-washed Danielle Steele style. I wanted to ask the flight attendants if any of them read the Anne Rice “Beauty” series. Now that's what I call erotica. Needless to say, I stopped reading it then and there and haven't gone back yet.

It makes me want so badly to write a good filthy novel that shocks and frightens all the women who drool over the Grey series. And yet, I have found myself almost completely unable to write since my return from my last trip. I had such an amazing four undiluted days with Mr. G. I got to spend so much time with him that I was buzzing from it just about the entire time. I was in such a deep state of subbie bliss that it's difficult to find the words to describe it. I've been home almost two weeks now and thankfully the deep, drugged feeling has worn off slowly. As opposed to an insane subbie high, to that gut-wrenching sub drop that takes a day or so to shake.

When I'm home and I'm vanilla me and busy and working two jobs, taking care of my family and all that reality stuff, it's surreal, thinking about my time with him. Just being in his presence, close to him and able to touch him for so many hours, so many days in a row like that. It's like remembering an acid trip (not that I'm admitting or denying drug use in my youth). I feel like when I'm with him, I radiate happy, content, subbie bliss.

And I know it's not a sustainable high. I'm thankful it always lasts as long as my trips are. I know real life involves families and jobs and stupid shit like the flu (my husband AND Mr. G are both sick right now). My life can't just be spent sucking my Master's cock and getting tucked in to sleep by Him. (what a life, though...)

But to bring this blog back on point, I was talking about humiliation. I never knew it could be sohot. Mr. G two different times this trip pulled my pants down to my knees and then just left me there for a bit. One time, he even went and sat back down on the couch, leaving me standing against the wall with my pants at my knees, shirt on, shoes and socks on, feeling like I was going to DIE! I know it's just an exercise of his power over me, that I would stand there like that with my ass and pussy hanging out for as long as he wanted. I think it was even more pronounced because I had so many clothes on and just my pants and panties pulled down. Minus on camera when he's asked me to pose or stand for him naked, he's not done a lot of flexing his humiliation muscles. It's such an intenseness, feeling exposed, embarrassed, so turned on for Him. My panties are soaking right now as I type this.

And that is why the 50 Shades book annoys me so. Her writing about it for the masses trivializes it. The reason I could read it on the plane surrounded by a couple hundred people in close proximity is because it's an M&M in comparison to a Death by Chocolate cake that is the reality of being someone's submissive.

Mr. G's touch can be like lightning. He can touch just about anywhere on my body, direct his attention to it and make me have a heart-pounding, pussy clenching orgasm. My lucky anatomy parts this trip were my lower back for one non-stimulated O and once he played with my tits and made me cum. I was so close to cumming, moaning, clenching my whole body, about to explode. And he put my hand on his hard cock, through his jeans and that pushed me over the edge. And I was begging to cum for him. Those orgasms that are achieved without pussy stimulation are so incredibly powerful. I shake and moan and am googly-eyed for hours after.

And I haven't hardly even mentioned the amazing cock worshipping. The orgasms that were had thanks to his talented finger (really, just one finger? I'm always surprised by this...it feels like three!!). The sated feeling of physically serving him, getting his drinks or clearing away trash and plates from food. The amazingly loved and owned feeling I get from spending time with him. The hurt of being spanked, pinched, squeezed, and bit.

And now I must end this blog before the couch beneath me bursts into flames. I'm starting to see why writing about my time with my Master is so difficult. I'm such a horny slut. Now, I'm thinking a cold shower is necessary.