Raw And Bloody

Well, I accept that sometimes Master has to release pressure and therefore uses me. That’s my duty and I want to be helpful. It doesn’t matter if I’m aroused and ready or if I even want it as long as he wants it, it’s alright for me. I embrace the fact that I’m a fucktoy and a slut. Therefore I am trained and this is my purpose.

So yesterday when he came home from training, he came to me while I was ironing some clothes. He just bend me over the counter by grabbing me by the hair and forcing me down while removing my trousers with a forceful jerk. When it didn’t go as he wanted, he began hitting and yelling at me, until I had managed to get all clothes down. I was wood-hard until then. When he entered me, I was dry and it hurt, so he just used what was handy (liquid starch) to get me wet. I don’t mind using other lubes than actual lube, so doesn’t he. While he fucked me relentlessly, he grabbed my cocklette and deformed and twisted it while it was still hard. The pain was raw, but I could not escape. With his other hand he held me in place, grabbed and tore my hair and hit me.

You know, I really adore the fact that even if he’s ravenous and aroused, he can still control hisself and delay his orgasm. He just seemed to fuck me forever, biting and hitting me, brutalizing and holding me down like an animal, a stupid, brainless fucktoy. It’s not about lve and respect, it’s just about being a hole for him to release anger. In these moments, when I feel all his physical strength, I feel so aroused by being overpowered that I usually don’t manage to cum. It’s as if my irrelevant small dicklette doesn’t even see a sense in trying to cum, because my own pleasure is not required. It’s awesome and I love feeling impotent and useless.

When he was almost there, he dragged me to my knees and shot his load all over my face, then made my lick him clean. Then he just left. No thanks, no sorry, not even a single word. I knelt there with my heart pounding and with my ears numb by the sudden silence. I needed to pause for a moment, and when I got up, I realized the blood on me, on my clothes and the floor. I admit that at first I got frightened for a second, then I smiled and thought how nice it was to see that I can still bleed for him like I was a virgin. It didn’t even hurt. I pulled up my panty and the trousers again, removed the blood from the floor and finished my work there.

Later, when I was done, he sat in the livingroom. He had eaten something and looked relaxed. When he looked up, he saw the stains on my clothes, and he just said “don’t even think of sitting on my sofa”. So I just sat down at his feet, waiting to be used again. Today I feel beaten up and have some bruises. I love that. All his.



Sometimes Master likes to make me do disgusting things. Why? Just because he can and for his amusement, and to remind me of my status as a dumb fucktoy. At these occasions he steps over my boundaries. For example he tells me to get dirty and besmear myself with what’s left in our bin after it got emptied, because he knows I have difficulties with dirt and rather shower four times a day than skip it one day. He makes me eat without using my hands or makes me eat things I despise, just to make me throw up and feel disgusting.

Getting dirty and having to do disgusting things is a special turn on for me when I’m dressed up like a nice, pretty gurl with clean clothes, make up and so on. Looking lovely and being treated like sh*t is just amazing, though of course I love looking slutty and being treated that way, too πŸ™‚ At these special times I’m denied to use a safeword. I merely do anyway, because I think a safeword just means you don’t trust your Dom and a sub should be up to please his Master. But just knowing no safeword will help me, is a big turn on as well. It takes surrendering oneself to a whole new level.

Today we met right after he had finished work and went shopping. He needed some shirts and trousers, and I wanted to see if I could find something for my male and something for my female needs, and I did. Afterwards, John invited me to dinner. As a starter, we ordered salad, but in his there were some bites he obviously didn’t like to eat. Instead of leaving them, he discreetely threw them on the floor. I was shocked! That’s nothing he had ever done before, but when he saw my bewildered face, he just chuckled and told me to shut up and eat. I did. And while I finished my salad, he threw even more on the floor.

When the entree was served, he did just the same. You know, I don’t eat meat, but he added potatoes, veggies and even a sprinkle of his sauce to the salad that was already on the floor. Because John gets upset by misbehaving very quickly, I was just wondering why he did that, but I did as he told me and just ate my dinner. I guess he wouldn’t have been able to do this at any location, but that restaurant is quite dim and as they had really a lot to do, nobody paid attention. And they had tablecloths as well.

When we were finished, he ordered dessert and coffee and bits of that and some teaspoons of coffee landed on the floor as well, and the more he had dropped, the more courage he had to drop even more. At some point, he leaned back, smiled at me and told me to get under the table and finish my dinner. I guess I must have looked stupid, because he chuckled and told me I looked stupid as fuck. “Now do what you’re told. And don’t use hands. Lick it off the floor”. Well, it might sound easy to get down on the knees, but in fact it wasn’t. I was afraid somebody would notice and I felt disgust and anger. Just like he had wanted me to. It took me some time to get over what he demanded as well, and finally I managed to get down there. It was a mess, and I felt at the verge of tears. I honestly didn’t want to do it, but obviously he knew and kicked me softly in the side. Alright then.

To be honest, the salad wasn’t that bad. When I tried not to think about what people who sat there before might have stepped into, it was O.K. The cold potatoes were okayish, but I guess Master thought I was doing too well and stepped on some veggies and smeared them all over the floor. I really had to lick them off the floor, mixed up with cold coffee and all the strange crumbs and pieces down there, like small particles of dust or whatever. It was gross. When I thought I was finished, he kicked me again to tell me I should lick his sole clean as well. I did. When I had made it up to the seat again, I wanted nothing more but a good sip of my cola, but he denied it. “I think you should savour the taste”, he grinned.

Ater we had returned home, he told me to stand straight in our kitchen, with a soap bar in my dirty mouth. I endured perhaps 10 minutes, then I was so sick I felt like vomiting. He laughed and then fucked me hard and painful, cumming all over my face. “Like it up, cunt”, was all he said, and I did. Dessert, right?

I’m just a dumb fucktoy and do as my Master tells me. I’m pathetic and deserve to be fed trash. Thank you, Sir.

Shock Collar

From his short stay in the UK this week Master has brought something for me: a shock collar. I’ve wanted one for ages, but it seems the people in Germany love their doggies too much to actually shock them. No big deal to buy a collar with signals or vibrations here, but of course I wanted one John could really hurt me with. You know, I believe in dictatorial parenting style πŸ™‚

Every now and then I love to wear collars anyway. The provide me with a feeling of being safe and held, you know, so I own some. Some are made of leather, others are just dog collars and I also have a choke collar I adore, beause that really hurts if handled the right way. Sometimes John likes to keep me on a lead, so why not give that shock collar a try?

First of all, it’s surprinsingly light weight and I love the way it feels on my skin. To work properly, it has to be worn near to the skin. On the remote, you can adjust the tension from 000 to 100. 10 feels like a soft pinch, like if you’re bruising your elbow a bit, and 100 is like someone’s ripping your neck apart LOL I quite like that. Best of all, even when I get shocked, Master doesn’t feel it, which is superpractical when he shocks me while he sucks me. It’s just a bit stressful to try not to bite him if he shocks me while I have his cock inside my mouth.

Of course we had to try to shock my cocklette and that REALLY hurts a lot. But I love that anyway. And apart fom this afternoon when we met with my brother and his wife I’ve been wearing my collar all the time. It’s so cute to be shocked while preparing lunch and know John is thinking of me while he’s in the office next door πŸ™‚

I’m Not Equal

I don’t believe in equality, I never have and never will. Equality as a concept is at times interesting to think about, but I believe that those who claim all men were made equal refuse to see reality. Moreover, I don’t want equality, first because I can’t even think of being equal to a person like John, and then because it just feels wrong. I guess I would have got along quite well in older times when they still had that feudal system with peonage and all.

I have no doubt about the fact that I’d see the world with different eyes if I had not been brought up by my father and if I had more self-respect, but to be honest, I believe that a lot of people who had loving parents and are successful in life don’t believe in equality as well.

You know, I try to behave like a nice person, but it pisses me off so much if people who have totally different preconditions in their life judge about my relationship and tell me John is “abusive” and I should leave him. I personally define abuse as deeds that take place against the will of the sufferer, and I really don’t think anyone with brains could ever mix up education and abuse!

But I am a grown up person and I choose to have the relationship I have. I don’t need to be saved or awakened or illuminated or whatever. I choose to be John’s inferiour partner with less rights and less freedom because I WANT it. A normal relationship with equal partners like I tried to have with W is doomed to fail with me. It just doesn’t work. I don’t even want to be equal to my partner. And it’s so useless to fuss about whether or not I would like to have a normal, equal partnership if I had not been severly abused for 21 years. I have been, it changed my mind from normal to what you call insane, and I fucking found a way how to deal with it and get along with my life by CHOOSING not to be equal to my Master.

I voluntarily let John do what he likes to do, I endure the pain VOLUNTARILY. I’m O.K. with him having fun with others and ruling over my sexuality, I love to be treated like a worthless cumrag and that he tells me what to do. He TAKES care of me that way even if you prissy guys out there don’t get the point of our relationship. I’m so fed up with that.

Honestly, I wish I had the courage to tell this straight to the people’s faces who tell me I should leave the love of my life, because they can’t cope with seeing my swollen face or how obedient I behave towards John or that I don’t want equality. Dang!

Decision For Boobs

At the moment I’m always horny. It was just two weeks without John and sex, but I still feel ravenous and hungry πŸ™‚ This weekend we have taken time just for us. No friends, no dinners, no work, not even a visit at the sauna. We prepared dinner together, which is rare, and I enjoyed John’s presence all the way.

When I was in the U.S. I sometimes felt lost without him. In my weak moments I could hold on to W and because he knows me so well he also knows about my more feminine, perhaps even childish sides who need to be taken care of and are fearful. But seeing John waiting for me at the airport was like every single part of me was screaming out in relief “Master! Husband! Lover! Daddy!” at once LOL I can only feel home when I’m with him.

For me, being away from all the things here was a good opportunity to think some things over, especially what I really feel and think concerning Ginny. She has become a huge and important part of myself. I had decided to forgo being her in the U.S. because I really feared being molested in an awful way. Whereas I feel in Germany more and more people accept crossdressers, transpeople and so on, I was shocked about the new president’s resolutions in trans-matters and how a lot of people agreed with that. Of course I know that there are a lot of people who find these resolutions disgusting, but you never know how people actually react when they are confronted with a crossdresser, right?

Anyway, after two weeks without being Ginny (I had not even taken bras with me and after wearing them for so long now has become really normal for me), I felt sore and like a liar. I know I’m not the personified beauty, but when I dress up, I feel soft, warm, gentle and just good at any rate and I love being John’s slutgurl or his shy little, prissy girl. I can connect to certain feelings when I’m Ginny which I can’t do as Blaubeermann. And sometimes I even feel precious and cute, which I certainly never do as Blaubeermann. So one of the first things I did after being back home was putting on a bra and a girly panty and paint my nails. Only then I felt better, more like myself, and I could see by the sparkle in his eye that John thought just the same.

I have observed my feelings well in the past weeks and days and I have come to the conclusion that I don’t want to wait much longer. I really want boobs, because I feel they make me complete. You know, you can take so much away from me, all my clothes, my make-up, the nailpolish and stuff, but those boobs would always be there and as my husband wants them on me, too, I don’t fear I could regret that decision. How much securer should I get to have surgery?

Tomorrow I will start to look for surgeons who would do that surgery on me. I’m quite sure that they don’t have too many guys who want boobs, but as John and most of my friends think: as long as you pay the bill, you get your boobs. I hope so. I’m nervous and can’t wait to have them done, though I’m afraid of the days I will spend away from home and of the pain I will certainly have. But I try to focus on my aim, some cute boobies. Wish me luck, please πŸ™‚ And I will keep you updated.