We spent a week together in May at the beach - my favorite place.

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Arriving at the airport felt strange. Every other rendezvous had started at the airport and I found that I missed knowing you were going to meet me there. I had to pick up a rental car, drive an hour to the beach, stop at the realty office and get the condo keys and then go to the store to buy some groceries so we'd have something to eat and drink. All I wanted to do was drive straight to the condo where you were waiting for me, but I knew if I did we'd end up having to leave again for food and drink and I certainly didn't want to do that - and I thought neither did you. After all, we'd always gone straight to the hotel room, ordered room service for dinner the first day and not left the room until breakfast the next morning.

So I completed my errands, trying to be mindful of what I was doing...but the biggest part of me was already with you. Finally I pulled into the parking lot of the condo and there you were! Finally, finally, finally. The sense of relief and homecoming and happiness I felt was palpable. To finally be folded into your arms, to finally be where I so much needed to be, to finally be able to take a deep breath...

I had no idea anymore how the week would go. Life at home had been more than chaotic the last few days, and I was reeling emotionally. We'd talked so much about this trip. I'd had such high hopes for the deepening of the D/s element of our relationship...and I didn't even know at that point if I'd be able to submit, if I'd be able to be all I needed to be, all you wanted me to be. I knew only that I wanted, needed, to try. That I wanted, needed to feel cared for. That I craved the acceptance you give me. That I craved knowing I could do something right, something to please you, something to center myself...which time with you, submitting to you, does for me.

Once in the condo, with the groceries put away, we talked. You are so open and honest and caring, milord. When you told me that it was my choice to submit, and that even if we spent the whole week together platonically you would still enjoy your time with me, I knew what to do. That wasn't what I wanted, milord, and it sure as heck wasn't what I needed. So you set a couple of ground rules: first, that the beach was mine and anytime I wanted to be there I only had to say the word and we'd go. Second, that anytime I needed a break, or time to myself, or a listening ear, or just a hug, you were there. You gave me everything I needed milord. Freedom to talk, freedom to be, and most of all, freedom to submit. If I didn't love you before, I would have just because of that understanding and acceptance.

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Gosh, milord...when I think about this week together, the glow I feel inside could rival a raging fire. You gift me with your Dominance, with the knowledge that you'll accept all of me, and bring out in me my true self, my real self. A submissive. Your submissive.

We started out slowly. I was struggling and you could see that. My heart was so anxious to please you, but my mind was getting in the way. That first day or so I couldn't take much. The clamps were incredibly scary to me and I couldn't submit well to them. I apologized to you because I felt that I'd disappointed you with my inability to easily, gracefully submit. It wasn't for lack of trying...I simply was unable to give completely. I remember your response - that I wasn't to worry, that you were always pleased with me, and that I'd be fine. Well, I was. By the end of the week we'd gone farther, shared more than I thought possible.

The birthday spanking - well thank goodness you decided to break it up into two parts! The first 100, mostly with the big flogger, had me gasping and fighting to hang on, milord. That flogger is so heavy! And yet, even so, I was ready for you when I finally counted the 100th stroke. So very wet, so very needy, so very "please, fuck me, milord...please". And the fact that you were concerned about the evidence left behind, milord - the marks, the bruises, the welts, that you were worried that you'd gone too far...that only makes me want to take more for you. To assure you that there is no too far, that the path we're on makes me happy, that you make me happy, milord. (I have to admit that I was sad when the last of them disappeared shortly after I returned home.)

The rest of the spanking, later in the week, mostly with the paddle, was a challenge of a different sort. You delight in using the paddle on my thighs, knowing that it's a deeper, sharper sting than what I feel on my bottom, and that I'll struggle harder with accepting the pain. You like to see that, to see my desire to please you override the pain and turn it, somehow, into need and want. Having to ask for each blow is so very hard towards the end, when my brain is telling me how much it hurts. It's humiliating in a way, how my need to please you becomes so overwhelming and how incredibly dripping wet I get. Feeling each stroke while the fire on my skin and in my head grows and my normal reaction to get away grows and I realize I can't, because it would disappoint you and my cunt gets wetter and wetter and wetter and I'm almost in tears from the pain and the need to be used by you...oh my. Writing this now, I feel that same need to submit, milord.

After a day or two, we'd established a routine. Pretty much the same as always - I'd wake up and make coffee, take a few minutes for myself, then bring you a cup and snuggle up. As you wake up, you'd really wake up, milord. All of you. And my day as yours would begin. You like feeling your cock engulfed in my mouth in the morning...and you would. You like laying back and being ridden while holding my arms behind my back...so you would. An hour (or two) later, we'd shower (you like being bathed...and I would) and I'd make breakfast. I enjoyed cooking naked for you. I now define naked as "no clothes, wearing wrist and ankle cuffs and collar"! It was comfortable and felt right. I was rarely without them while we were indoors. Each time you'd put them on...I don't think I'll ever be able to feel your hands wrapping leather around my wrists and ankles and not react deep inside. Every time something inside me seems to settle into place. And when you'd remove them, for a shower or to leave the condo, I'd mourn the loss of that feeling.

Later in the morning, it was downstairs to the beach! I love the beach. We'd stretch out on the big towel, watch the people, chat, read, nap...it was lovely. I was so pleased to share something I love so much with you. And sometimes, if you chose, you'd play. Whispering in my ear, reminding me I'm yours, getting me wet and then letting me come. I would feel so helpless and yet so powerful - it's a feeling I can't really describe.

Back upstairs, later in the day, back in the collar and cuffs, we'd hang out. Maybe online, maybe sitting on the balcony, sometimes talking, sometimes not...it was all so peaceful and comfortable. Sometimes though, you'd want me first. Right then, on the bed, over the table, on the couch or the floor or against the wall. And each time, you'd take a little more. Push my pain tolerance a little harder in big ways and small. You'd enjoy watching, milord. Seeing what I'd do, what I'd take, how much I'd give - and I hope you got the answer you wanted. Everything.

I've never actually 'worn' (is that the correct term?) the butt-plug for more than a few moments at a time...and never while going about my everyday life. So when you told me to go get it right before we were going to the beach, I was a little (okay, a lot) apprehensive. The whole process of bending over, feeling the lubricant and then feeling you slide it in was quite an experience in itself. Because I knew it wouldn't come out until you decided. Walking out the door of the condo, riding downstairs in the elevator, walking out to the beach - how it felt physically, and how you watched me with that satisfied look on your face was exciting. Already I was ready to go back upstairs. But I was determined to stick it out and show you that I could be strong and able. By the time we laid down on the towel, it was beginning to feel comfortable. But, the more comfortable it felt, the more needy I felt! I was soaking wet and could feel the nerve endings in my ass reacting...which makes my whole body feel alive and hot. As I lay there, I couldn't help but squirm. I tried to be still, but my body had a mind of it's own. I could feel your pleasure, milord. In the way you looked, in the way you spoke and the tone of your voice - it was everything I had in me not to beg you to take me back upstairs and use me hard. Then you began to drive me even higher. You use a tone of voice when you ask me things that tells me that not answering isn't an option. Describing the physical sensations and mental effect only made it all stronger! Drawing orgasms from me as I lay there, trying to be still, trying to not draw attention to myself...I think I lasted maybe an hour before I was begging. Begging you to take me, to use me, promising anything for the exquisite torture to end. "Will you beg properly?" you asked me. I hadn't yet, I hadn't been able to do it. "Yes, milord, I will. Just...please!"

Finally we went back in. Up to the condo. By now I was nothing but need. I couldn't think, I could barely speak, I was hardly breathing. We went in and I removed my bathing suit while you reminded me that I knew what to do. I did. You'd previously told me what you wanted to see. Me, on the floor, begging in the proper position, with the proper attitude, with the flogger and the paddle.

Gosh, it was hard to do, milord. As much as I wanted to please you, as much as I needed to please you, it was still hard. But when I was finally on the floor, offering myself to you, begging you to use me in any way you see fit...I was happy.

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We met again for a weekend in June - but it was cut short by external events. Between then and now we were apart for a time, and it was painful to be without Him. I felt lost and adrift.

Now I am His again...and our next meeting is in January.