Archive for trust


Posted in Nonfiction with tags , on July 17, 2009 by scarlettbottom

Lately Styrn has been doing some things to me that I wasn’t initially comfortable with but I’ve grown into.

Like many submissive women, I’m a control freak in my non-sexual life. I have strong feelings about what kind of interactions are acceptable and what feelings are acceptable for public consumption. I don’t like being touched by strangers. I don’t like to be picked up. I don’t like to be touched by men I’m dating casually; I certainly don’t kiss someone until I feel they’re completely trustworthy. I don’t like friends to put their arm around my shoulders. Etc. The only people who are allowed to touch me are friends and (ex)lovers that I’ve known for at very long time, or people I’m having sexual relationships with currently.

Styrn is working (maybe unconsciously) at breaking down some barriers. He’s been picking me up more often, just to move me to a different position, or across a room. I used to be very afraid and cling onto him very tightly when he did this, not trusting that he wouldn’t drop me. I’m finding that I’m much more relaxed about it now, with him, in an appropriate situation, like at home, or when I’m sleepy. I’m beginning to like it so much that I’m thinking of losing some weight so that it can happen more easily.

He also touches my face. I think most people have an aversion to having their face touched, except in sexual situations, but I’ve lately been allowing Styrn to touch my neck and face when he wants to. This is usually in a cuddly situation, or a social grooming thing (brushing a bit of stray makeup off for example), but I’m starting to enjoy it more and more. My favorite activity of this sort is the under-the-chin stroking. Like petting a cat. Makes me feel taken care of.

It helps that I trust him so completely. Had he been anyone else, I would never allow him to take the liberties he does.



Posted in Fiction with tags , , , , on July 14, 2009 by scarlettbottom

I’m laying on the bed on my stomach kicking my feet lazily. I’m reading a book, and so engrossed in the story that I don’t hear Daddy come in.

Suddenly he jumps on the bed and starts tickling me. I squeal in surprise/delight and thrash around, knocking my book off the bed, giggling hysterically. Finally after what feels like ages, Daddy stops. Breathing heavily, I lay flat on my back, one leg hanging off the edge of the (now very rumpled) bed. I can’t really relax- he could start tickling me again at any second- but Daddy knows better than to betray my trust. He folds me up in his arms and kisses my mouth. One hand firmly holding the back of my head, he slowly kisses down my neck, paying close attention to when I tense up, afraid he’s going to tickle me there now. Little by little I relax, exhausted from the effort of trying vainly to fight him off a few seconds before, and finally, I’m limp in his arms.

He lays me down across the bed. When he lays down next to me, on his side, I reflexively curl up into him, head snuggled under his arm, one leg between his. Stroking my hair, he lifts my face up and kisses me gently, meanwhile unbuttoning my shirt with one hand. I’m still a little tense, so when his hand brushes my tummy on accident I tense up and pull away defensively, but my brain trusts Daddy, even if my body doesn’t always, so he can coax me back to him easily. I try hard to overcome the residual ticklishness and take a deep breath. Daddy takes advantage of that moment of control to pull a nipple out of my bra and pinch it lightly. Rolling my nipple between thumb and forefinger, he watches me squirm and struggle with my submission. He takes my nipple in his mouth (oh that’s better) and reaches up the back of my skirt to stroke my bottom and pussy lips. The excitement of the tickling and the adrenaline from the physical struggle primed me for foreplay; my pussy is getting wetter and wetter while I focus on Daddy’s mouth and thumb pressing the space between my pussy and asshole.

I’m beginning to rock my hips, finally able to loosen my control on my body, not ticklish anymore. I put my finger in my mouth. Daddy knows what this means. Fingers are almost never as satisfying as Daddy’s cock, so he moves to make the necessary adjustment. I love sucking Daddy’s cock; I can’t wait. I scramble over to the edge of the bed, hanging my head over, body laid out on the bed for Daddy to play with while I satisfy my oral fixation.