Right in the what?

He holds me close to him, his fingers working, his magic voice telling me that I am his, that he can do what he likes with me, that I will come for him before I will be allowed to suck his cock.

I am begging him, pleading to be allowed to pleasure him as his fingers gently stroke me closer and closer to the edge of bliss. "Please, please let me suck your cock," is the last thing I can say before my words are stolen by the things he is saying, by the way his fingers are making me feel.

"You saying you want to pleasure me BEFORE you come? That doesn't seem fair, fuck toy," he growls in my ear, his breath raising tingles all down the side of my face, my neck, my side... all the way to my toes. "You're gonna come for me, all right. Who owns you, girl?" he demands as I am right at the edge.

The effort of answering him makes me fly off. "YOU own me," I squeal, the last syllable trailing into a long scream of pure sexual release.

"Good girl," he whispers, and he keeps going and going and going, making my body dance on the tips of his fingers.

Finally, finally, his touch slows, he lets me breathe. "Suck cock now?" I manage.

"Yes, girl, you can suck my cock now." But his mouth is on mine, he is kissing me long and hard, a kiss that embodies passion itself. My hand moves to stroke the cock he's promised me and I find it big and hard, poking out of the top of the waistband of his boxers.

"There's a monster in your pants," I whisper into his mouth.

"It's got your name ALL over it, girl," he growls, moving more onto his back.

I gasp as his words reach their target, and I slide my body down his. I take him in my mouth with no preliminary teasing - my desire to have him invade me is too strong for that. His groans of pleasure reach my ears and I am emboldened. His boxers are a nuisance, we make them go away together as I settle between his legs, sliding my arms under his ass as his legs go over my shoulders and his feet rest on my back.

"Yeah, that's where you go, girl, with your face impaled on my cock," he growls as I take him as far down my throat as I can. My moan cannot leave my body because its exit route is full of hard male flesh, but I tremble with arousal anyway. He must feel my shaking in his cock, under his feet, because he makes a pleased noise too. I pull my face away to breathe, gasping in great lungfuls of air while rubbing my face against his cock, letting my tongue lick before I dive down onto him again.

His cock in my throat, I grab the outside of his thighs and press his legs together around my head, trapping myself. I would scream from the intensity of it but I can't. He makes a half-strangled noise that I don't hear from him often,  and after I have run out of air, I pull off him to breathe again. I breathe heavily as I rub my face along his cock, and I am so absorbed in the intensity of what I am feeling that I realize he's coming only as it goes up my nose.

It stings.

It's hot. It's sexy-hot and I can't believe this just happened, but I slurp his cock back into my mouth to consume the rest of what he gives.

For the first time, he's come up my nose.

I'll take it.

Fucking after a 5K

"You love being my fuck hole, don't you?" he growls into my ear. I'm half on my side, half on my back and he's behind me, my leg wrapped around his waist, my foot pushing against his ass, his huge cock plundering my insides to the point of pain. I am incredibly wet due to the face-fucking I just received and the amazing things he has been saying.

I whimper my response. "Mmhmm, mmhmm." I do, I do, I do.

"Say it," his voice rumbles as his fingers tighten around my wrist.

Oh God, if he makes me say it. Oh, God, I can't hold it together. The words stumble out of me, falling over themselves and making me repeat some sounds. "I luh-love b-being your f-fuck hole," I stammer. Too many sensations pouring through me from the center, the effort to make words is too much and I can feel the distraction of being forced to speak such words driving me closer to orgasm.

He hears my voice catching. "Say it again," he orders.

Holy shit, my head is going to explode. I do what he's asked, repeating the words, and then I do it again, and again as he keeps fucking me, and I'm exploding, tightening, arching, pressing, screaming. He feels too good and I can't contain the sensations.

The hand that's not holding my wrist tight is stroking my spread sex, rubbing lightly across my clit, making me gasp and jerk and squirm around his cock, the post-orgasm sensitivity just driving me close to another and another.

"I love to make my fuck slave squirm," he says, though whether that's because it feels better to his cock or just because he enjoys making me squirm isn't altogether clear.

My hand is trying to get lose from his grip. I want, badly, to reach behind me, wrap my arm around his neck, stroke his hair with my hand. He won't let me go though.

"Please, please, please, please," I beg, tugging on my wrist.

"Hm? What's my fuck slave want?" he asks, keeping his grip on me.

"Oh please, please, I want to touch you," I manage to gasp out between the cries of pleasure he's coaxing from me.

"Oh, that's okay, go ahead and touch me," he says, but doesn't let go of me. I fight to free myself from his grip, to get my hand to his skin, but he won't let go. "Go on, girl, I said you could touch me," he says.

I whimper with frustration and arousal as I tug futilely at my wrist. He keeps pounding inside me, his other hand keeps tormenting my sensitive parts, and I have very little strength for the physical struggle to get my hand to his head.

"Ohh," he says after a few moments of useless struggle on my part. "I guess my girl didn't really want to touch me at all. How disappointing."

I groan, a deep, tormented groan, and I am also on the verge of another orgasm as I pull against his grip. He releases my wrist as I shudder around him. "Good girl," he whispers in my ear as my arm snakes its way around his neck, as I pull him as close to me as I can.

It's the middle of the afternoon and he woke me from a much-needed nap to fuck me. I couldn't be happier. He drives into me, grinding, his fingers stroking my clit, his breath and his voice in my ear, and I am exactly where I want to be, exactly where I am meant to be. I am fulfilling my own very specific purpose.

I don't know how many times I come on his cock before he finally can't stand it. I do know my screams seem to spur his orgasm out of him, and that feels somehow powerful to me even though he is the one causing my screams.

After his cock softens, his hand replaces it. He fills me, presses against my g-spot until I scream in disbelief at the sensations inside me. "Oh my God, what are you doing to me?" I squeal, the sensations so unbelievable that I have difficulty processing them.

"Oooh," he says at my reaction, prodding the same spot again and again and watching me react the same way. "Fucking you," he answers as I scream, a different sort of orgasm taking me over and washing all my strength away.

---

This man, this man, this unbelievable man.
My life, my heart, my body, my love are his.

No description can do justice to the joy that swells inside me when he touches me. I told him once that it feels like a holy moment and that's why I close my eyes, to savor it.

I could type for years and never properly indicate the exact level of wonder with which he fills my life.

This will have to do for now.

The one thing every new dominant should know

Disclaimer

I don't like "should"s, or "every"s, or anything that seems to be a blanket prescription toward certain behaviors that might only apply to a small percentage of the population, possibly even just a sample size of one. So when I pull out the "should"s and the "every"s, chances are it's something I feel is incredibly important. This advice is geared toward those new dominants in long-term relationships and not necessarily those who are playing with a different person each time. It can also apply quite well to all dominants, but I wanted to limit the scope of my disclaimer because quite a few already do know what I'm about to share.

What you don't know

Contrary to popular opinion, what you don't know can hurt you and will probably hurt those people in intimate relationships with you. A BDSM situation, especially for those submissives exploring and finding their way for the first time, can be incredibly freeing. A submissive may find himself or herself with incredibly strong drives, with increased needs for intimacy - sex and kink, yes, but also just holding or touching or talking about feelings.

If you're not prepared for an increase in libido and other intimate needs, it could lead to some very bad places. 

This isn't a "you are in fact controlled by your submissive" sort of thing. It's merely a fact. Dom doesn't equal asshole unless that's your kink, and if so that's between you and your sub.

The backlash

An offhanded comment can reduce a submissive to tears so quickly that you mightn't even realize what's happened. In a dedicated long-term relationship that also happens to include lots of kink, if you want the bonuses that go with being dom, master/mistress, or owner, you need to be aware of what you have to be beyond just the kinky badass who takes what she wants.

For example: if a submissive mentions having fun and or sexytimes with you and your response is a lighthearted "That's your solution to everything!" it may not strike a nerve three times out of four, but especially if you say it often enough, when it does strike a nerve it will be a very exposed, very raw nerve.

The resulting emotional collapse from having this nerve struck may be something you witness, or it may not. Your submissive will try very hard to appear unfazed in front of you, but chances are she will feel like an annoyance: the guest who has overstayed her welcome, the sub who got just ever so slightly too needy. A sense of panic will start to set in. She will try to think what she can do to repair the damage, to be less annoying, and she won't see a way out of it because this is who she is now. 

Eventually the dam will burst. It's a horrible straitjacket for a submissive - her own internal needs and desires and fulfillment on the one hand, the need to please her dominant on the other, and the two things seemingly in direct conflict. If what she is can only annoy her dom, what is she to do?

What you need to be

I'm going to make a not-so-giant leap here and say that actually you should be this regardless if you're inclined toward kink or not-so-much. 

You have to be your submissive's safe place. If he can't express who he really is with you, then every kinky action you may take is for absolute naught. If he feels you are belittling his feelings and the things he needs from you to feel emotionally fulfilled, then he will start to withdraw - what else can a sub do when what he needs seemingly draws such disdain from the person he has devoted himself to pleasing? 

This might require some self-correction on your part, some examination of what it is you say, and as always in every kind of relationship that's meant to go anywhere, clear and near-constant communication.

Maybe you've told your sub frequently how amazing he is, how much he pleases you, but you have to keep doing that. As submissive people we thrive on pleasing our dominant halves, much like a dog loves to please its owner. But unlike dogs, we can make inferences and draw conclusions, even if they aren't anywhere near being correct. 

The hounds of self-doubt always dog our heels, and we need confirmation that we aren't overwhelming, that we are pleasing, and that what we are is what you want.

An awful lot of work for a dominant who's meant to get/do whatever she wants. 

You've got the world's all time best self-caring pet/plaything, but you still have to do some work. A submissive who feels himself/herself pleasing is a submissive who will do anything you ask, so I'm almost certain that the work is worth it. Ultimately, that's your decision to make. 

Please dominate responsibly.

Waiting

Sometimes, I wait a long time. I have time to look down the line of my body and to find what I see appealing. But when the daylight is streaming through our open blinds, filtered slightly by the curtains... that is when the visuals reach their maximum appeal.

For me, anyway. Your mileage may vary.

When do you find yourself most provocative?