Gratitude

“Cultivate the habit of being grateful for every good thing that comes to you, and to give thanks continuously. And because all things have contributed to your advancement, you should include all things in your gratitude.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we experience the world.” – John Milton

The modern world is crammed with competition and rivalry. Siblings, coworkers, strangers at the mall searching for a parking space or that perfect gift. We are comparing ourselves and our abilities with others from the moment that we first perceive them. While we are focused on keeping up with the Joneses, we are concentrating on all the things that are not within our grasps. Particularly in this hectic shopping season during the Thanksgiving holidays. We've turned a time of giving thanks for what we do have into a desperate harried quest for what we don’t have.

“Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for.” - Epicurus 

Gratitude shifts one’s focus from what life lacks to the abundance that is already present. With the abundance of accessibility and in the age of instant gratification, we struggle to connect it all with our hearts. The answer isn’t more stuff or faster access, it’s more gratitude. At the root of happiness, fulfillment, joy and love is gratitude. Gratitude is the door to the beauty that life offers. An attitude of gratitude is the best first step to living a “charmed” life. One must remember that developing charm and poise is not about filling in the places where one is lacking, it’s about beautifully displaying the extraordinary remarkable you that you already are.

So, today, I challenge you to strive to cultivate an attitude of gratitude, not just one day a year, but year-round. Take your perfunctory “thanks” to the stranger that holds the door open for you to get in out of the cold into a heartfelt “thank you.” Gratitude is developed through daily practice. Slow down in your thoughts and heighten your awareness, which is imperative to increase our gratitude.

Breathe, just breathe. Pause for a moment and take a deep calm breath and let it out. Feel the air go into your lungs, feel the movement of your diaphragm, let it out slowly and feel it move through you. Allow your mind to move with it. Force yourself to slow down and feel your life. Be grateful for that life.

“Piglet noticed that even though he had a Very Small Heart, it could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude.” –A.A. Milne

We are people who have been given much, who have worked for a great deal of it. Despite our trials and stresses, let’s share our gratitude. Remember that all the good things in our lives have specific sources. People have the free will to be rude or be kind, to love or to hate, to be genuine or to manipulate, to treat us as fellow human beings or to ignore us, to be honest or to lie, to be grateful to us if we have done them good or to hold our gifts in contempt. Others have the same free will that we do. Many people do things large and small to help us. Make sure that those that inspire gratitude in you know it. Bring gratitude from your heart to your lips and hands. Remember, thank you notes aren't only for graduations, weddings and baby showers.

Give thanks. Let us share our gratitude with each other here, now, and always.

“We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.” – Thornton Wilder

Determination for the Better

I've just begun looking at how to get my currently 4 year old son into boy scouts and had a long discussion with my ex-husband about his homophobia and the scout troops. This brought up quite a train of thought for me. Despite the fact that this man married me and lived with me for three years and fathered my two children, he seems to constantly overlook the fact that I'm bisexual and polyamorous. I'm not even mentioning the fact that I'm kinky on top of all that. It's not like I ever hid any of that from him and at one time he led me to believe that he found this aspect of my being something desirable. It’s this extreme contrast between persons inexplicably terrified of opening their minds and hearts and those that have, even if slowly and privately, embraced all the possibilities that being truly yourself can offer that is causing such conflict. 

Being bisexual and living in the southern United States is a scary thing, especially when you have children. Being polyamorous and living in the southern United States on top of that can be downright terrifying. 

In my experience, being forced to accept that you will never be accepted by your family, by many of your friends, and also by your surrounding community really screws with one’s perception of themselves. If I was totally open about my relationship preferences, some of the consequences I would face might include losing my children, or at the very least a custody battle. My ex-husband, being the homophobic paranoid man that he his, has threatened repeatedly to attempt to take custody of our children because my preferences are not “right” and that my influence on the kids might cause them to be gay or bi or “deviant” should I act on the desires that my preferences engender. Losing my job. I work for a Baptist church that I’ve attended since I was 7 or 8 years old… I think this one is fairly self explanatory, but it also falls into being rejected by my community. My parents and the rest of my family would also likely reject me, despite the fact that I have two cousins who are openly gay. Being bisexual and polyamorous is a whole different matter. That’s just being “shameful and greedy.” (a direct quote from one of those cousins). 

The strides being made to open groups like the boy scouts to gay members and, hopefully... eventually, gay leaders give me hope that maybe, one day,  at least my children won’t have to feel so oppressed. Maybe my struggles with accepting myself, despite the lack of acceptance from others in my life, will help them to see that a person is a person is a person, no matter the color of their skin, their age, their sex, their gender, their sexual preference or how many people they can honestly tell “I love you.” 

Fuckdoll

“Strip and lie on your back on the bed. I’ll be back in a minute,” he instructed as soon as I entered his room. He headed upstairs, likely to pollute the air with cigarette smoke and top off his coffee. I took a deep breath and slid out of my clothes, leaving them in a heap beside the door, then stretched a bit, enjoying the tension in the flex and bend.

I reached up to the ceiling with my hands and then brushed the carpet with my fingertips. A sigh escaped me as I slid my hand down my right side and arched in that direction, stretching the left side, enjoying the give up my ribs and on my hip. I repeated the movement on my left side, the sigh turning into a soft moan. Finally, with a small smile, I turned to the bed and arranged myself on it, my legs hanging off the foot of the mattress and feet brushing the floor.

It wasn’t long before he returned, set his coffee cup beside the bed and leaned over to kiss me. His “Good girl,” brought another happy sigh. He moved to my feet and rolled stockings up my legs, left first, smoothing the silky fabric up to my thighs before slipping his favorite black patent heels on my feet. He stood and ordered “Up.” So, I sat up, my eyes closed and a smile curving my lips. He slid the leather play collar over the skin of my throat and I leaned into it with a little moan. My breath stumbled as he clicked the lock closed and moved to remove my silver day collar from beneath the leather one. The feel of my pulse thudding against the leather collar blurred my mind as it always does.

I could feel him smile, though he stood above me. His thumbs found the pressure points on my shoulders and he pushed, eliciting louder moans. My eyes remained closed and he shoved me back on the bed. I landed with an ungraceful flop, my mind fogged. I heard him move away for a moment, a door closed, likely to the bathroom, but I was unconcerned and just lay there enjoying the state he brings me to with such little effort.

I heard him return, felt the bed dip with his weight and I made the herculean effort to open my eyes and look at him for a moment before he rolled me over onto my stomach. My eyes slid closed once more and I heard the murmur of the rope before I felt it. The soft scratch or the rope over the skin of my inner wrist brought a little squirm, my thighs rubbing together. He bound my wrists and pulled them toward the head of the bed. “How is my toy?” his voice rumbled in my ear.

I managed a response after a moment, “Good, Sir.” Again, I could feel his smile as he moved away from me. I do so love that smile. He ran a hand down my back and over my bottom, and then dipped fingers between my legs. Two fingers, three, I couldn’t tell anymore from the pleasure he wrought. The bed moved again as he wrapped his hand around my hair, twisted the bun and pressed my face into the mattress.

“Cum, toy,” he commanded. I began the orgasm, tensing my muscles and my body obeyed. My pussy clenched around his fingers and my abdominals pulsed along with them, curling my body. He finally relented and stopped moving his fingers and the orgasm abated slowly.

“Thank you, Sir,” I murmured, but he yanked my head back and clamped his pussy dampened hand over my mouth and nose. I dimly heard “Good cunt.” as I fought to breathe. I struggled to pull my hands down to claw at the hand halting my breath. My entire body tightened as the need for air intensified. How long has his hand kept me from breathing? I don’t know anymore. My world narrowed to my body’s need for oxygen and his hand that controls me so.

“You can cum when you can breathe,” I heard. The words seemed to resound in my ears. My eyes have opened now, on the verge of panic, despite my knowledge that my Sir would never damage what is His. His hand now holds back a scream as well as the air, a barrier both ways. And then it is gone.

An orgasm rushes through me as breath sobs in and out of me until the intensity of it stops the panted moans again and again. All thought is gone and all that exists is this. All that has ever been and all that will be is caught in that moment of ecstasy. Slowly the orgasm subsided and I could feel his hand in my hair still, his fingers stroking my face.

“Thank you, Sir,” I managed hoarsely.

“Mmmmm good girl,” I received. Then he entered me. “Lie still, I want to fuck my toy,” he ordered. If I could have spoken I would have replied with a “yessir” but my voice was engaged in a long low moan with the feel of his cock moving inside my pussy. His hand moved to pull my head back by my collar while he braced himself with the other. I wanted to cum. I wanted to beg to cum, but knew that if he wanted an orgasm from me, he would say so. I fought it desperately, my body tightened with the battle against my need to orgasm. Guttural cries echoed from my open mouth unhindered by the pressure on my throat from his hold on the collar.

“Are you needy, toy?” he asked me.

My response was another moan and a roughly spoken “Yessirrr”.

“Aren't you a lucky girl that I like to feel you cum? If I didn’t, you wouldn't get to," he reminded me, which made my struggle against orgasm even more difficult. “You may cum when I do, toy.”

I accomplished another croaked “Yessir” and dug my fingernails into the palms of my bound hands as he thrust into me harder and faster. My breath automatically stopped in the fight against the need to cum. I could hear my pulse thump in my ears, the blood rushing unsteadily through my veins until I felt like I might fail him. A moment longer and I might not be able to obey his command against orgasm.

“Release, cunt. Cum for me, toy,” he growled and the world was gone. My pussy contracted around his cock and I felt his cum fill me, felt him twitch and throb inside me then I was gone, lost in this incredibly severe ecstasy that he draws from me. I came until my abs ached from it and still it did not stop. I came until my stomach churned with it and still it continued. Slowly the intensity faded, but I felt him pull out of me and it came again in painfully pleasurable waves until finally it faded from me.

I whispered a “Thank you, Sir” weakly and he pulled my head to his cock. I licked and sucked him clean and drifted for a while with it in my mouth before he patted the bed next to him. With a soft sigh, I curled up half beside him, half draped over him and listened to his heartbeat, my head on his chest.

This. This is bliss. Utterly used and happily satisfied.

Quietly.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Good girl.”

© surrina booke 2013
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This short Fuckdoll story at the request of BookAddict on GoodReads. It is very close to being qualified as reality as it is very much about my life and my journey. This story is mostly a compilation of parts from scenes between myself and my Sir. The piece in its entirety is imagined, but quite possibly real and I just blended one scene into another as my mind so often does… it does sound quite like my Sir and me.

~E's Surri