Who am I, and who decides if it matters?

Friday night I was in the middle of finishing up a post when I got… distracted.

Forget finishing blog posts, I wanted, no, needed to come.

So I kicked my clothes off, and then I hopped my naked ass into bed. 

Master was at the pub for TGIF drinks with his colleagues. And this? This was my treat. 

Predictably, not too soon into my brewing orgasm, both Master and Mister Valkyries started messaging me. I was unsure of how much I could tell Valkyries at this point, but for Master, I was unreserved. 

Master Levi — the practical man that he is — turns what I’m doing into a question about a product he’d seen. He’d seen it featured on Instagram and he’s curious.

So I wind up explaining them to him, clit suckers and lickers. I’m disinterested in it; right here and now, there’s only one clit that I could really care about! 

So I have done a thing, that initially I was excited about, but my excitement has since turned to dread. For all of his curiosity about the forum, I have encouraged Master Levi to join my friends and me on the Lovehoney Forum himself. “A great bunch”, says I. “You can get involved in conversations”, I continue. “Vote for and test out some products”. 

It was a great idea, until it wasn’t.

Normally it’s me who orders products from Lovehoney, so Master would need to buy and review a dozen or so products before he could become a sex toy tester in his own right. There’s a realisation in that too: Master Levi would much rather buy things that he can use on me, than use on himself. 

And this plays right into my “test subject” fantasy. It wasn’t meant to go like this, though. Not. Like. This. 

Still, the man who wasn’t for that fantasy at first is now very much for the idea. 

And Valkyries, who I wound up apologizing to after my conversation with Master distracts me from him? His ears go up too. Testing sex toys on me? Brilliant idea!

I slip into a soft and submissive state: this is my fantasy, now my reality. From this point on, I’m basically just a sex toy test subject to them. As if I wasn’t already.

My mind wanders back to the pillbox of the other day — what I thought was safety, I realised too late, may have in fact just been just a trap. Well, it’s too late for me now. Two words can save me, but that seems like an overreaction when my captors have been nice to me. So far. 

I wonder for a time, though, if my name even matters anymore, or if I really am just a subject now to them. 

Valkyries, too, has said he wants to keep me in a laboratory. It sends a soft submissive shiver down my spine when I realise quite how serious he may be.

My flogging post on Saturday went down well, even much better than I had expected, so thank you all who commented. Many of you want more, including a write-up on the florentine technique, which I purposely missed out in that post because if it’s technicality. Good things come to those who wait, I promise 😉  

Writing that post and the response to it, though, left me pining for Master’s floggers again. The sadist enjoys my plight. 

“I’m not saying I want you to flog me, I’m just saying, I was thinking about them.”

“And I’m not saying I’m going to flog you, I’m just saying, you want me to” he replies. The ass is smiling. He knows the truth!

I sigh. Glare at him. Sigh deeper.

“Please” I finally say softly. 

“Please what?” he presses.

“Please flog me” I whisper. 

“Sir” I add. 

“I’ll let it go this time” he says calmly, “which one?”

“The purple one, please, Sir.” 

The “purple one” is a suede flogger, about two feet long with black and purple strands and a braided handle. I forget where I got it from, but it’s rapidly become a favourite of ours. I prefer a thud over a sting, especially when it’s still tender a few days later. I’ll admit it; I like it when it hurts to sit down, and I like remembering how I got there. I’m a SAM — a Smart-Ass Masochist. 

“Strip. On the bed, on your front” Master says, turning to his collection of floggers. “What do you say if you want me to stop?”

“Red, Sir.”

“Good girl. Slow down?”

“Yellow, Sir.”

“Good. Go.”

I hurry to the bed and strip, taking my time to fold my clothes but not be too meticulous about them. I take my position on the bed: ass up. Head down. Arms up. Palms down. The “humble” position. 

“Missed this?” Master asks, tracing the tails of my chosen flogger over my back, my buttocks. 

“Yes, Sir.”

“Well, let’s change that” he says, and lands his first stroke diagonally across my buttocks. 

The first few strokes are painful, but I soon lose myself in the thwip-thwap of the flogger and the warm glow that has spread across my ass cheeks. An old SWAMP-friend of mine used to tell me that she could fall asleep under a flogger, and for a time, I thought she was completely crazy. Yet here I find myself, doing exactly the same thing. Master knows it, too. 

“See now I have a problem. If I stop, you’re going to miss it again, a bit like how you miss my cock when I stop fucking you” he says. He continues his leisurely flogging of me, even as he taunts me. 

I growl. I want it to not be true. 

“That’s why you got a tongue, though if you keep talking, that might tire too” I quip.

Whack! The warm glow in my ass now has a palm-sized inferno. I groan. 

“Sorry?”

“Not really” I chuckle. 

Whack! The other side gets to match. 

“This hurts my hand more than it hurts your ass, I think” he says, and swaps his flogger. The sadist returns with his leather rose flogger. 

Oh, now he means business. 

Master brings the rose flogger down across my ass, allowing the leather roses to slap and thud. Whatever amusement I had at his expense has now been stripped from me. This one hurts. 

“So like I was just saying, if I stop, you might miss me flogging your ass” he says casually, as if this is the most normal interaction in the world. 

“I won’t, not this one. Please Sir!”

“Hmm. And if I stop, are you going to be smart with me again?”

I bite my lip. Grin. The sadist pauses and awaits my answer. 

“Out with it” he commands.

“You know that’s a given, Sir” I say. I tense, I know what’s coming next. 

Thwap! 

Saturday evening I had an idea, regarding this whole “tester” idea. You see, what started as a thought, I realised, was like opening Pandora’s box: how long before some of my readers wanted in on this, too?

Well, for what I hope would be obvious, safety-first reasons, I wasn’t going to give out my personal address. So that left me with the only viable alternative: a PO box. It seemed like the obvious solution, but at more than £400 a year, could I justify the price tag? 

So I spoke with Valkyries about it, and he suggested I set up another Amazon wish list for items I’d be up for testing. Amazon would allow my readers to order my next tester product for me, without sharing my personal information, and without costing me a pretty penny. 

I told Valkyries he was a “genius” and I could kiss him, and Valkyries, for his part, could not help but remind me of my compliment the following morning. I let it go — my frustration is his amusement, and sometimes the only way to win is to refuse to play. I think. 

Sometimes I think that’s a Dominant’s M.O., being frustrating. 

So I have created the list, which is here, and will be updated monthly. I haven’t put it on my review posts yet though. That’s next. In the meantime, my next product arrived this morning. Three guesses what it is? 

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Until next time!

Stay safe & have fun,

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