Just Took His Hand

Moves fingers, gets mind working...been a long, long time and not sure about doing this but also sort of want to write something down.

Blogs are odd things. In a way it's just like keeping a journal. Except that it isn't private. Sometimes complete strangers read it. And what is so odd about it all is that I must feel that these written thoughts about just a tiny piece of life are so verrry worth sharing. I don't think they really are but putting some things "out there" quench a little of the exhibitionist in me same as reading blogs of others helps satisfy a voyeuristic urge I have.

Maybe this formation, this integration, this self understanding quest isn't such a tiny piece of life after all. I do tend to minimize things sometimes to deflect.... sort of like a shrug I suppose. Sort of like a passive-aggressive attention getter deflection shrug even (need another day to unravel that one). But because the blog started out as a place to put my thoughts as I tried to integrate two distinctly separate parts of my life into something that would work well overall, and because I think that goal has been accomplished somewhat, maybe it's time to go another round.

So, here I am with a wonderful dominant man I have known for 5 years, been so very drawn to, but never submitted to, until now, who has patiently listened to my crappy stuff about everything for all that time and also to all of the joy filled parts of life, and when he held out his hand I took hold saying yes, it's time now, isn't it, he nodded yes and I am so very glad. This is the journey of my growth under the guidance of man I respect and adore, who is a well respected member of his lifestyle community, a dominant man who has made me a part of him, and who has brought me into his family life, allowing me to serve him and my alpha sub sister as his beta. I love being in this place.

Daddy Said..

No more emptiness, you've had enough of that.

Perspective Heals

i'm doing well. Things are sorting out. my former Master has been walking this release with me as the adjustment is huge for Him as well. He's set some boundaries which i respect. i respect a man who follows through. And it's all good.

There is no anger. There are many, many wonderful memories that still make me smile and laugh aloud. He and i have laughed together over many. It is His way of showing me the positive side rather than dwelling on the loss.

There is sadness because He and i had become very close and very much a part of one another's lives. i miss that. So does He. And because of that very intensity and depth our relationship had to end.

To new beginnings!

Released

Last night i was released.

He said i was restless and i am. i haven't been asked or tasked for months. i think he is also restless... and has been for months now. He needs variety, new experiences. i think i actually bored him with sameness. i tried, i really tried to please him and to serve him but it just needs to be two together working toward a goal and i guess it wasn't.

So, time to sit back and see what happens next. Never know when a door will open.

Embrace and Surrender

Birthdays, holidays, milestones such as these are sometimes a little bit bumpy for some people and i guess i'm one of those people. As much as i love the celebrations there is tension and emotion and, in the past years for me, perhaps too much inward focus. Baaaaad habit, that! When there is too much inward focus there is the pitfall of living without optimism. Another bad habit. i think it's the ego talking tho, that "all about me", and that is what i'm trying to shed so i got over it pretty quickly, thankfully, by remembering that i am here to serve and not to be served... i'm not talking about a hard clit experience here... talking about giving up the ego in order to live in the midst of life rather than looking on from "above". It's about living in the moment and treasuring. And seeing that the others are here on this earth to do the same.

My dad has had one of those illnesses that last for years and gradually, oh so slowly, takes one's life. We are looking at his last weeks or days now and how honored i am to be walking with him on this journey. What a sweet man he is. So peaceful and so gentle.

i had a comment on the last post ... isn't it great to get feedback that causes one to think some more.... about the soul mate coming when we stop working it so hard. Agree. Again it is a matter of letting that piece find us as we embrace what we have going right now. Being observant, watchful, thoughtful, but not controlling. Just submitting.

Something Goin' On Here

Today is my birthday. I am almost officially in my mid fifties.

And one thing i can say about myself is that i don't always see the obvious as i walk the path. i construct my own reality and eventually it disappears as tho made of sand that filters through the fingers. i offer up this song for the season, and credit CSN&Y. Perhaps the light of this new day will show me a new way.

It's been a long time comin'
It's goin' to be a long time gone.

Appears to be a long time,
Yes, a long, long, long time
Before the dawn.

Turn, turn any corner.
Hear, you must hear what the people say,
You know there's something that's goin' on here,
That surely, surely, surely won't stand the light of day.

And it appears to be a long,Such a long, long, long time before the dawn.

It's been a long time comin',
It's been a long time gone.
But you know the darkest hour,
Is always just before the dawn.

And it appears to be a long time,
Such a long, long, long time before the dawn.

Obey the Cock

my nipple is so stiff. i'm on my back in my white bed and the palm of my hand rests along the side of my breast while i circle that long, stiff nub with my middle finger. It's so hard, so elongated. And as i focus on how hard and swollen it it, the other nipple hardens as if to keep up. i drag the finger down the side of my body to my pussy and feel the soft week-long growth of hair and shiver as i think of you.

i've been thinking about how badly i want to please you and torment you just as you torment me. About how i crave you. You've created an ache in me that, at times, overwhelms all other thought and feeling.

i think about how you tied my hands above my head and further tied them to the hook fastened in the wooden rafter overhead and how you made sure that i had to remain up on my toes.... easier for you to get me to move in response to your deliciously torturous touches, you've told me.

When we are together my senses are attuned to your every move, your every breath, your every word.... my mind races as it tries to anticipate you so that i can try to tease you back just as you tease me. You are near me now, your voice at my ear sending shivers down your slut's body, your slut i am, god how i love belonging to you ....and my mouth is open because my breathing comes so hard and ragged. You are so close to me and i need you more, i need to taste you and i turn my head just enough. You must feel my breath on your neck now, Master, and i bite your earlobe -- hard -- hard enough to make your breathing stutter and i don't let go until i hear your low chuckle. "girl", you say, "My girl". i release my grip on you but you linger just a few seconds and i taste the salt of your skin as my tongue laps down along your jawline and i feel your pulse under my lips at the base of your neck.

This dance of ours has gone on for an hour or more, this tease, this mutual seduction. You drive me to the very edge of want as i tease back.

Silence now as you pull away. Breathing in, breathing out, seconds passing, minutes gone by.

i feel you close again now. Your cock is hard. i can feel it pushing its way between my ass cheeks. You've bent me at the waist just a little and your cock is between my legs now pushing in and i feel you pulling it out along my slippery pussy lips and the pushing it back, pulling it out, pushing it back.

You've trained me to see your cock when my eyes close and in my dark place i see it in front of me. I must, must open my mouth to accept the cock but at the same time i feel you fucking my slippery slit. Your cock, how i crave it. Your fingers violently fuck my mouth while you pull my head back by the hair.

"What is it that you need, girl", you say.

Your cock.

"Yes, my cock. What do you crave, my girl?"

Your cock.

"Whose slut are you?"

Yours, Sir.

"What do you obey, girl?"

Your cock.

"What do you want girl?"

Cock, Master.

"Whose cock?"

Master's cock, please, please Master may i have Your cock.

Your hand twists my hair even tighter and i choke on the saliva that has accumulated in my mouth and is dripping down my tits and onto the floor. You move in front of me while releasing my hands from the hook overhead. Disoriented i fall to my knees in front of you and you take me.... using my mouth. And i obey the cock.

SUGASM #150

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slut to the Mailbox ..... This Morning's Task as Accomplished

i stood next to the mail box, envelope in hand. It had been with me for a long while now as a physical reminder of my service to Master and i didn't really want to let it go. In it was the cunt smeared lipstick blotted tissue that Master had me make for Him one night weeks ago. The Domme looked on as i worked to please Master by outlining my dark pink cunt lips in red lipstick to match the full red lips of my mouth. It was a method of seducing the Domme; the seduction of Her was His goal and by His use of me i became part of His plan.

And now this pussy scented tissue had become part of a plan to continue the seduction of another.... this time, a young, sensuous submissive girl. "My girl" He said to me, "Where is your special envelope? I want you to show this young girl what a slut you are. There it is, thank you, My girl."

In my hand that night was this same mossy green envelope made of beautiful slightly textured paper that had withstood the countless openings as i would look inside it again and again to see what i had made for Master and i kept it and i looked at it and held it because the act of making it had pleased Him so.

This passion, this craving to know that i continue to have meaning to Master, that i continue to have a purpose, that i continue to be a girl He chooses to use drives me to a state of craving that is barely understandable to me. i hate it and i lust after it and i love it and i crave it as a need. What is there to do but to keep coming back, keep coming back until the day comes when He tells me to go.

So i took the red smeared musky scented tissue out to show the little slut and i saw her responding in the way that sluts do when the lust wave radiates through a cunt's pussy. "Now you will mail that to her tomorrow, girl, and freshen it up for her, too, won't you?"

As Master and i talked this morning His voice and my craving need of Him made me wetter and wetter and i wiped the folded tissue again and again around the opening of my slippery cunt. Master told me what to write on my note paper, you know, the message and the gift was from Him, not from me, and all the while i wondered if the little slut would think the blue edge around the mossy green was pretty because it's the color of her eyes.

Addressed, stamped and sealed i stood on the sidewalk in front of the post office making a decision as to whether i should go inside and drop it in the slot there? Or just drop it in the sidewalk box. i turned it over in my hand. The sealed edge was a bit crumpled. Well sealed but crumpled and i raised the envelope to my face so i could smell myself on it one more time. i felt the roughness of the seal as my thumb traced along the V shaped flap. And my pussy throbs even now knowing that the envelope was not sealed by my wet tongue but by wet, wanton slutty cunt lips.

The sidewalk box received Master's note card because that was my choice to make. i didn't want to know that the postal workers i have come to know inside would be handling my pussy juices. But if Master had told me to hand it to the worker behind the counter, i would have.

xoxo

Your girl, mission accomplished

And now it's about 24 hours later. i have realized, yet again, that my purpose is in serving Him, not the other way around. But the reward comes around.

i hate the passion --not sexual passion i speak of here, it is the passion that makes me hurt so much when i feel (... insert self centered word here, pick one ....) because i have forgotten that i'm His in the way He chooses .... UGH what a baby i am, godDAMmit ... because that is my ego speaking. That is me wanting to drive. That is the "old me" or even the "cultural me, vanilla me" speaking. But then i really don't hate it or hate my submissiveness at all when i listen to the servant heart inside of me and accept her. i just hate how i react. Thus, formation.

For example, it is very unlikely that Master will even read this. He rarely does read what i write and if He does, He certainly doesn't read my stuff when i want Him to (will i EVER get this??). Yet, that is also what drives my need to serve Him because His ownership of me fits so well with my need to be owned. He is stronger than i am and i have never found a chink in that strength, as hard as i try, i cannot. There is no negotiation. i chose to be His and choose again and again. Sometimes it hurts when i forget my place and there are days of struggle ahead getting set right again. But it is my choice to be with Master as long as He will have me.

i also realized this today as i was going about the service in my household and that is this... i am not merely a quickie seduction object for Him. Those come a dime a dozen. What i hope i am, and what i can only surmize that i am to Him is that i am just simply there for Him. To meet any need He desires.

Enough for one day.

Ready

i'm ready to come back.

The new baseline is from a place that does not necessarily involve erotica, or sex, or titillation.

This new baseline is from a place of service for the sake of service. Deep and effortless servitude, working at being an example of self-discipline, recognizing my status as that of a girl who places others before me. Developing a will to obey is my hope and that out of this humility my level of obedience will grow and grow.

---- first becoming nothing, and then becoming all ----

It is my hope that, in my strength and in my work, this will be accomplished.

Place

Master says i don't know my place.

He's right.

I've lost it.

Why and when did that happen?

Was it because He didn't tend the garden or because i didn't?

Decending Again

i'm not exactly sure what is happening. Or maybe i do. At the simplest, i am just simply tired of this. Tired of the online silliness of the shallow praise given by horny net geeks. ooooo crys, nice chest, ooooo crys, wow wow, ooooo crys i watch you all the time, oooooo crys,.,.... whatever they think will work to get boobs flashed or cunt spread. What a load of shit.

Wanting to do a good job at something for real praise but not having anything to do ..... oh wait .... oh yes, the showing up and sitting with a plastic smile on my face if the real heart isn't in it, best use the plastic smile.... looking like a fucking senior picture from the yearbook while laughing at the appropriate times and being witty and FUN FUN. Can't forget FUN. i am so sick of this. So sick of the shallowness of it all. The temporary nature of it just sucks because it holds so little of any worth. It's all in the head. All in the mind. Pretend.

And what i want is it to matter.

Closing Up Shop -- Going on "Holiday"

I'll be closing up shop soon. I've been on a "permissions only" status for a couple of days now. It was very touching to hear that people actually read this blog and even more touching to know that some have wondered why my blog went to password only. Short answer? I'm going on holiday meaning I'm just ready to take a break. I'll be the only one to have permission because I'm not ready to delete all this stuff but don't want to share it anymore either.

I have decided to stop blogging for a while as it's become like a tail attempting to wag me ;). I tend to start thinking about numbers and when they climb my ego comes in and then I want to write things to get even more readers. That can't be why I write. I'm not really sure why I write but I am sure that writing for numbers is not the best path for me. I have no less than four posts in draft form, all "Dear Master" types of entries that are pretty much blubbering bullshit to anyone but me. So in draft they will stay because the healing came in the writing, not in the sharing.

It does not feel good to me knowing that strangers are "getting off" on my stuff.... it used to charge me but now it just makes me feel yucky. I find that I can express just as well or better by writing personal e-mails to Master and that works best because I need to know that someone I care about hears me.

I've even toyed with the idea of posting erotic or even pornographic photos here and, really, the only reason would be to get attention. For me, it is attention that does me no good. Sex blogs, lifestyle blogs, pictures taken to entice a reaction or to get people to look and comment and masturbate over is a culture that is just not comfortable for me to read or to create.

Things are alright, though.... I'm mainly just really trying to figure out how to live as a submissive in a vanilla life without crossing the line.

It is Strength or Weakness, Health or Sickness?

A dear friend and i were at dinner one night this week. We do this about once a month and at some point during our dinners the talk always turns to our relationships. Usually we talk about sex, too, and i have shared with her about what she calls my "special needs" sexually.... BDSM. She understands bedroom and/or BDSM play but doesn't understand D/s.

We both spent many, many years married to verbally and emotionally abusive men as we raised our children. Each of us left those men with thoughts of never looking back and we each got help individually and as couples. Who knew that we women would find that we have voices and opinions and that those voices and opinions are important to be heard. Who knew that our spouses would finally get it too.

We were both submissive women too eager to please, too eager to accept another's --- anybody's --- unhealthy dominion over us, too easily sent to scramble to figure out where we miscommunicated when the shit would hit the fan. We just kept scrambling to tidy up all the loose ends because we were unable to fix that whole fabric of what was really wrong. We needed to find a voice and become healthy. For some reason we were just not willing to pack up the kids and run probably because the hurts were not visible and the abuse was done in secret. We felt that we wouldn't be believed by our children, parents or friends.

She and i were friends during much of this dysfunctional time and didn't know we were each living like this. Amazing, isn't it. But at a party one night she said something to me..... sort of a little slip that told me she was hurting.... and i invited her to dinner. At that dinner i told her my history and told her that i'd soon be moving away from my home, husband and young adult children because if i didn't i would most certainly die. And she then told me her story and we shook our heads in wonder that we'd never had the voice to share with one another or anyone else.

So at dinner the other night i began to talk about how comforting it is for me to have a person with strong broad shoulders on which to lay my burdens, how fulfilling it is to be able to completely surrender myself so as to meet another person's needs in service and how that makes me feel so complete, about how i feel there are some people in this world who love being the ones to take the burdens and make the decisions just as i love to give them up. Very simplified, yes, but about as far as i felt she could comprehend what are the beginnings of a power exchange type of relationship.

Her brows knit together as she said "That is just not healthy! Isn't it true that within a relationship, the person who is so controlling must learn to give up some of that control in order to learn to defer to others and the people who are so deferring must learn to take charge?"

Hummmmm. i wonder. i wonder if she is right. The pressure i put on myself to be "a good sub" may not be healthy. i went in a direction which was to find affirmation of who i am, a submissive person, and subsequently developed that understanding into a need and craving for that life. i pretty much found the choir that sang the virtues of D/s and joined in. Conversely, she went in the direction of the cultural understanding of mental health which is to teach a much more middle of the road approach that we call "vanilla". But i wonder if i got it right. Did i get on the bus that may not ultimately bring healing?

This is all so heavy on my mind and heart today because i am struggling with this awful feeling that i did the wrong thing with Master last night BUT i don't really think it was the wrong thing... the delivery was wrong but the message was not wrong. It's not a huge thing going on... i know we will talk it through eventually but this is the thing.... here i am feeling defensive like i used to feel when i tried but couldn't "speak up", or when i tried but couldn't "disagree" or when i just flat out got angry because i felt so powerless. This is not about BDSM, it is not about limits.

i used go over and over a situation that ended badly trying to see how i might have better explained myself, how i might have been more understanding of a position other than my own, how i should have been more patient, how i should have asked for help or more time or more information. But the thing is sometimes a negative outcome is not my fault.

Last night i was reduced... yes, reduced, to a shivering little pleaser submissive puppy dog of a woman and it doesn't feel right. It feels like i'm thrown off balance, like i can't trust my own instincts, like i will loose ground if i push my opinion. The patterns run so deep and here i am not knowing how to please and to have a voice at the same time... the fear of saying the "wrong" thing runs so deep.

The Pier

Edging.

my dress is made of a sleek finely knit jersey and the high waistline frames my breasts and allows the skirt to blow freely about my ass and thighs as i walk the length of the pier. No panties and no bra obstruct the availability to any who'd wish to enjoy.

The breeze is light but still noticeable by my nipples that are puckered and hard and straining against the bodice of the dress. i'm well aware that in this state of arousal my aureoles are bumpy and swollen and noticeable to any who view.

The need i have to spread my legs is strong. i pretend to be interested in the small bit of shell in the center of the long pier and i squat with the sole purpose of spreading my legs. The pink shimmery fragment on the wood plank gives me a target but i don't really need one, do i? i sometimes still hold on so tightly to the good girl who won't allow her bad girl to surface. Squatting i feel the lips of Master's cunt slowly separate.... the sticky fluids have dried and hold the edges together and as the lips spread the pleasure ripples through my body and i close my eyes and tilt my head back opening my mouth just barely as though ready to take a cock. Just a hole, just to be used, just to serve.

Standing now i move purposefully towards the end of the pier.... not so much to get to the end but to feel the slick lips rubbing and the wetness running. The railing is about elbows high so i rest my arms on it and my body stretches so that my ass is hiked outward. The breeze is blowing my dress between my legs and i know that my tits... Master's tits... are exposed to the nipple.

Then i hear Him. "My slut" is all He says. His hand rests on my ass and slowly traces down and his longest finger teases me thru the fabric. my breathing is shallow and rough.

As i edged to this fantasy, i felt myself there. i hear the gulls, i felt the hairs on my skin move as the breeze blew and i felt Master's deep voice travel through my body.

Meditation. i am ready to begin the meditation in service to Him, for in the practice of meditation i can so so easily go to Him any time He chooses and serve Him as completely as He sees fit.

Surrendering to Him, knowing that i serve Him, wanting only to feel Him in me and around me i trance easily. Today, for the first time, not only did i feel the pleasure that He gives but i felt His hands on me, using me like he loves to do. i felt his fingers sliding into His pussy and reaching for that sweet pleasure spot that is deep inside. Moans and shudders... holding on so tightly, feeling His every touch, each brush of His breath, each word He speaks. And then, the time is up.

Thank You for this gift, Master.

Work and Be Worked

i figured that the answer would be a simple "yes". Like the answers to most questions, though, it wasn't that simple. "Do you think it's natural for sexual energy to ebb and flow?" The answer was a "yes, but" and then "Yes, but sexual energy needs to be expanded."

i asked the question because i am concerned that i am not sexual enough. i know that my body is changing lots... some say that menopause changes a woman as much as puberty. Thankfully i still have the drive and the desire but at the same time it is just different somehow.

So what about this expanding the sexual energy idea? The meditations that Master fashioned for me are a primary way i keep in touch with my sexual feelings on a daily basis. i work hard on getting the mind and pussy working together with varying results. When it's great i can feel such pleasure deep within Master's pussy, tingles and strokes along my clit and moisture forming between my lips. When it's not so great my mind won't settle in on a mantra and it flits or drifts. So i started doing two 15 minute sessions a day to help train my mind to focus, focus, focus. Master also has me edging to keep the want growing. Today i wondered if maybe a bit of self loving the bod prior to meditation might help. Tomorrow i'll experiment. i just have to have faith that it all works for good and not obsess about easily getting or not getting the quick big "O".

So what i have come to understand about working and being worked makes so much sense. i need the work. i need the purpose. i crave it. Master knows that by putting this slut mind and body to work for His purposes gives me purpose. It's food for my spirit. And really for me it doesn't need to be sexual work for the results to make His pussy flow.... i'd serve Him in any way and i think it would be heaven.

Short Leash

One week ago i disappointed Master by my behavior. i knew better than to act the way i did but i went ahead and did "it" anyways. It wasn't a full 180 degree turn towards misbehavior but was more of a slippery slope i'd been on for a while and i just didn't know how to stop it on my own.

i don't think it's important that i reveal what i did or how Master set me straight but rest assured He did. i was a tearful, repentant, heartbroken mess in front of Him once i had confessed and realized that i had disappointed Him. He broke me. i was embarassed and humiliated. Master's pussy was dripping wet while at the same time i cried rivers of tears.

Never in my adult life had i been called out on the carpet and punished. Never. Reasons for never being punished might be because i would always make sure i did things pretty close to just right because to disappoint people in authority over me or who i cared deeply about made me feel awful. But i know i have not always done my best or done things correctly. Master is the first person, Dominant or vanilla, who has cared enough to take the time to see what was going on in my head and life and to put a stop to it in a way that was the most effective for me to learn.

i say effective because since He punished me, which includes the taking of a privilege, i feel so very cared for, so close to Him, so settled down in my spirit, and purposeful.

i don't know why it works the way it does. i'm just glad that it does. Thank You, Master. xoxoxo

Still Happily Serving

First of all, i would like to say that i deeply mourn the loss of FatBoy, my little cock dildo that i managed to bite into two pieces (i know, not a good thing at all). Master wanted "him/it" replaced right away and i couldn't fine another one because he was a unique lil fat thing. Instead i replaced him with an egg shaped plug that can't be bitten through but it's not the same. Finding a FatBoy, Jr. is on my to do list.

This has been the most beautiful spring and early summer i can remember. It's also been one of the busiest! Creative energies are being expended elsewhere and i don't seem to have the drive to blog as much as i do in the winter. It's natural, i suppose.

Master continues to draw me to Him and challenge and use me for His pleasure and the benefit is that i am so fulfilled in the process. We may not be in a position to fuck just now but His mind fuck is like nothing i've ever experienced! Through the meaningful work He has me do daily through my solo meditations and with our hypnotic scening done maybe a few times a month and with our nearly daily connecting otherwise and somehow, He can pretty much take me wherever He wants me to go and i feel as though i am there. Sometimes i focus so intently on His words that he can paint a picture during a conversation and for a short time i feel as though i am right there in that place. And because i am pretty good at describing what i see and feel, i can share it all with Him when He desires it so that we are drawn even closer and deeper into relationship.

i'm a lucky girl!

FetLife

Joined FetLife last night and found four new homes (groups) and hope to meet some new friends.

Two groups i am most excited about are the group for Doms and subs with vanilla spouses and the Mind Control Fetish Group.

bringing up slut

When i was maybe 2 or 3 my mother had to pull a little toy out from my pussy because i'd been playing in it during my naptime and the toy had gotten slippery, buried and stuck.

When i was about 5 i loved to take off my lacy panties and stand over the drain in the basement to pee in it.

When i was 9 i rubbed my pussy along the crossbar of my bike and ground it in, loving the feelings.

When i was 12, 13, 14, 15..... i would lay in my bed whenever i could with my pants off, legs spread, and sticking anything i could find into my needy pussy. i'd imagine that i was being watched and i'd orgasm.

When i was a teen i would lay under the water faucet in the bathtub and let the water run onto my clit until i'd cum. i didn't know what it was called but i wanted to do it again and again.

i would look at my wet pussy in the mirror and watch as i'd finger or insert things and watch as it changed color as it became swollen.

When i was 16 i went with some girls and boys to a loft apartment in the city. It was the home of one of the moms who was divorced and she was with her friends drinking wine. We drank some wine with them and then went to the upper level. i remember hands groping, feeling my wet pussy. The boy put my hand on his cock and he came all over my hands. i felt so guilty. One of the moms hugged me and said i'd be okay. She was right.

When i was about 18, my mother found some erotica in my brother's room. She was livid and threw in into the trash can. i went into the garage and i found it. It was a magazine filled with black and white images of a woman tied to a chair, her legs spread, her pubic hair was a large and thick triangle and her lips protruded just a bit. A man was standing over her. As i stood in the garage i reached under my dress and violently orgasmed when my finger touched my clit.

Is it any wonder that Master's pussy craves as it does?