My life is brilliant. Every night I fall asleep in the arms of my delicious, fantastic, sexy husband who, even half asleep, keeps mumbling about how happy he is with me and how much he loves me.
Every night.
My life is a fairy tale dream from which I have no desire to be awakened.
It must be real, though, because the pain of his fingers clamping down on my nipple still makes me scream. My screams still seem to cause him to erupt. Those pinches do not change my reality except to sharpen it.
He revels in the power I have gifted him over my entire being.
"Your body is mine," he murmurs against my temple.
"Yes sir," I whisper in response.
"Your soul is mine," he says roughly, directly into my ear, and I shudder. His hand is causing pain somewhere. Slapping my breasts, making me arch into him, or perhaps smacking into my spread open vulva.
Showing posts with label breast spanking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label breast spanking. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Monday, July 1, 2013
Step 3: Fuck the slave girl's brains out
Step 2 is here.
He climbs atop me and he slips his cock against my entrance. He's slow, easing it into me even though I would surge up into him and devour him into me. When he is completely buried inside me and I am pulsing around him, he grinds. He rocks into my clit just so and he's saying something about me, about owning me and me existing for his pleasure and being there for his cock. My body arches into him and I tremble, a series of short sharp pants emerging from my mouth.
"Did I say you could come again?" he asks sharply.
"Oh, God, no," I whimper, shaking. He wants this, wants me to come on command, and I'm not so good at it. But I can stop, though I tremble with the effort.
He puts his head down so that his lips are near my ear as he growls. "Then don't. I'll tell you when you can come."
My head swims. It swims and pounds and I'm not sure exactly what he's doing but it's making me crazy. I groan, shuddering, at the edge of orgasm - right where he put me.
"Now," he finally says, driving his cock down into me, his lips still at my ear. "Come for me now!"
I do. I let go of the tenuous thread holding me to sanity and I fly, screaming, into the blissful abyss where he has sent me.
Time stretches, suspends, as he continues fucking me. He is brilliant, a sex god, a lover of epic proportions and all I want is to please him and feel the pleasure he gains from me in all the ways he does.
"I'm going to fuck your ass next," he growls down at me. I whimper.
"You like the sound of that?" he asks.
It occurs to me now, that a lot of what he says during sex is making sure I'm happy. At the time it sounds like growling, sounds like orders and like him requiring me to vocalize. But he wants to be wanted too - of course he does. I wonder how much of his pleasure comes from knowing how much he pleases me. I think it might be a lot. I know he likes this blog, likes having the window into my experience of him.
I do like the sound of it - anal sex - his cock invading my ass, pushing me open, claiming me. I like the sound of it very very much. He circles his hips against me and I arch up into him. "Yes, Master, I like your cock invading me," I gasp.
He pulls away from me. Oh, no. Now I'm empty. I groan with disappointment as he rolls to my side.
"Is the poor girl empty?" he asks gently, not too mockingly.
I dive after his wet cock with my mouth, making sure to cover my lip with my hand again. I lick my arousal off of him, suck him as best I can, while he gets the lube from the nightstand drawer.
"Turn over, girl," he finally says once he has retrieved the tube of slippery substance.
I do. I turn my back to him, bend myself nearly in half to provide him access to the part he wants. I'm shaking. I'm excited and a little afraid. We have anal sex rarely enough that each time is a little scary. Will he push too hard? Will he make it hurt? Will he go slowly enough so it's not overwhelming pain?
And this time, after the lube is applied and my tiny opening prepared for him, he is perfect. I reach behind me and hold his cock steady, and he pushes just a tiny bit, then retreats and repeats. Over and over, each time entering me just a little more, making me open for him, penetrating my resistance as I moan deeply. It's overwhelming but not with pain, just sensation and awe at how absolutely perfect the entire experience is.
"Going to fuck your ass," he growls as he is finally all the way inside me. He grabs my hip and thrusts. I cry out - it's amazing, he feels amazing. My muscles squeeze around his foreskin and his cock slides within it as it's meant to.
His hand cups my breast, lifts the warm weight of it. His fingers press gently around my nipple. "Going to pinch your nipple," he says roughly, right in my ear.
Shivers run down my spine. "Okay," I whimper.
"Going to pinch it hard," he continues.
Oh, God. "Okay," I whimper again.
"Going to pinch your nipple hard while I fuck you in the ass," he clarifies.
"Oh my God," I moan, and then he is doing what he said, slowly compressing my nipple between his thumb and forefinger until I squeal with the pain of it. It's intense, and sharp, and he never stops moving his cock.
"Does it hurt, slave?" he asks. When I merely continue squealing he says "Good. Good girl."
He stops pinching, and he slaps. He slaps my nipple and I groan. It burns, it stings, then it tingles. My nipple turns into a little pebble and he slaps it again. He's talking now too, something about ownership and pain and love.
I am out of my mind with pleasure, but he is pulling my leg backward over his waist. It's slightly different than vaginal sex in this position, but he still has free access to my pussy - now pulled open for his enjoyment. He's talking, still, as his fingers find my wetness and play there. Fingers enter my body, my flesh separating his fingers from his cock, and I moan. "Is my girl full?" he asks.
I am beyond words. I respond but it's a mumbled grunt. God, I love being his, I love him filling me up, love having him occupy my body and my space. I think about sex with him so often that when it does happen - every time it happens, even if it's every day - it's like a long-desired dream coming true.
I cannot say all that, but the feeling of it rushes through me and I scream as his fingers work their magic, as his cock fucks me in a place no one else has ever even touched me.
He comes - he must have come - but I can't process it. I'm too far gone. His fingers gently stroke me as I come down from the mountain. We're still in the same position, my leg backward around his waist, his softening cock in my ass. My hand closest to him fumbles around, trying to find a place to touch him - his shoulder, his neck, his cheek, his head, and back again. My arm can't find a place where I can rest it on him without it sliding off. It's a weak sort of floppy arm movement and he laughs at me.
"What are you doing with that arm, girl?" he laughs.
"Want to love you," I mutter. He moves his arm, crooks it so that his forearm is holding mine in place so I can rest my hand on him comfortably.
I am spent.
But much later, when I am almost asleep and I am wrapped around him from behind, squeezing him and kissing his neck softly as I drowse, he suddenly says "Turn over so I can fuck you some more."
Oh my God. My stomach does flip-flips. Just to hear those words come out of his mouth sends me all aflutter. I do as he's asked, and he has his way with me from behind. It's like a birthday and a road trip and an excellent homecooked meal all rolled into one. This happens even more rarely than anal, that he interrupts my sleep to take me.
"Where did that come from?" I ask him.
"Mmm, I was thinking about how sexy you are and I got turned on and I thought I should take it since it's mine."
Holy hell. Hotter words were never spoken.
He climbs atop me and he slips his cock against my entrance. He's slow, easing it into me even though I would surge up into him and devour him into me. When he is completely buried inside me and I am pulsing around him, he grinds. He rocks into my clit just so and he's saying something about me, about owning me and me existing for his pleasure and being there for his cock. My body arches into him and I tremble, a series of short sharp pants emerging from my mouth.
"Did I say you could come again?" he asks sharply.
"Oh, God, no," I whimper, shaking. He wants this, wants me to come on command, and I'm not so good at it. But I can stop, though I tremble with the effort.
He puts his head down so that his lips are near my ear as he growls. "Then don't. I'll tell you when you can come."
My head swims. It swims and pounds and I'm not sure exactly what he's doing but it's making me crazy. I groan, shuddering, at the edge of orgasm - right where he put me.
"Now," he finally says, driving his cock down into me, his lips still at my ear. "Come for me now!"
I do. I let go of the tenuous thread holding me to sanity and I fly, screaming, into the blissful abyss where he has sent me.
Time stretches, suspends, as he continues fucking me. He is brilliant, a sex god, a lover of epic proportions and all I want is to please him and feel the pleasure he gains from me in all the ways he does.
"I'm going to fuck your ass next," he growls down at me. I whimper.
"You like the sound of that?" he asks.
It occurs to me now, that a lot of what he says during sex is making sure I'm happy. At the time it sounds like growling, sounds like orders and like him requiring me to vocalize. But he wants to be wanted too - of course he does. I wonder how much of his pleasure comes from knowing how much he pleases me. I think it might be a lot. I know he likes this blog, likes having the window into my experience of him.
I do like the sound of it - anal sex - his cock invading my ass, pushing me open, claiming me. I like the sound of it very very much. He circles his hips against me and I arch up into him. "Yes, Master, I like your cock invading me," I gasp.
He pulls away from me. Oh, no. Now I'm empty. I groan with disappointment as he rolls to my side.
"Is the poor girl empty?" he asks gently, not too mockingly.
I dive after his wet cock with my mouth, making sure to cover my lip with my hand again. I lick my arousal off of him, suck him as best I can, while he gets the lube from the nightstand drawer.
"Turn over, girl," he finally says once he has retrieved the tube of slippery substance.
I do. I turn my back to him, bend myself nearly in half to provide him access to the part he wants. I'm shaking. I'm excited and a little afraid. We have anal sex rarely enough that each time is a little scary. Will he push too hard? Will he make it hurt? Will he go slowly enough so it's not overwhelming pain?
And this time, after the lube is applied and my tiny opening prepared for him, he is perfect. I reach behind me and hold his cock steady, and he pushes just a tiny bit, then retreats and repeats. Over and over, each time entering me just a little more, making me open for him, penetrating my resistance as I moan deeply. It's overwhelming but not with pain, just sensation and awe at how absolutely perfect the entire experience is.
"Going to fuck your ass," he growls as he is finally all the way inside me. He grabs my hip and thrusts. I cry out - it's amazing, he feels amazing. My muscles squeeze around his foreskin and his cock slides within it as it's meant to.
His hand cups my breast, lifts the warm weight of it. His fingers press gently around my nipple. "Going to pinch your nipple," he says roughly, right in my ear.
Shivers run down my spine. "Okay," I whimper.
"Going to pinch it hard," he continues.
Oh, God. "Okay," I whimper again.
"Going to pinch your nipple hard while I fuck you in the ass," he clarifies.
"Oh my God," I moan, and then he is doing what he said, slowly compressing my nipple between his thumb and forefinger until I squeal with the pain of it. It's intense, and sharp, and he never stops moving his cock.
"Does it hurt, slave?" he asks. When I merely continue squealing he says "Good. Good girl."
He stops pinching, and he slaps. He slaps my nipple and I groan. It burns, it stings, then it tingles. My nipple turns into a little pebble and he slaps it again. He's talking now too, something about ownership and pain and love.
I am out of my mind with pleasure, but he is pulling my leg backward over his waist. It's slightly different than vaginal sex in this position, but he still has free access to my pussy - now pulled open for his enjoyment. He's talking, still, as his fingers find my wetness and play there. Fingers enter my body, my flesh separating his fingers from his cock, and I moan. "Is my girl full?" he asks.
I am beyond words. I respond but it's a mumbled grunt. God, I love being his, I love him filling me up, love having him occupy my body and my space. I think about sex with him so often that when it does happen - every time it happens, even if it's every day - it's like a long-desired dream coming true.
I cannot say all that, but the feeling of it rushes through me and I scream as his fingers work their magic, as his cock fucks me in a place no one else has ever even touched me.
He comes - he must have come - but I can't process it. I'm too far gone. His fingers gently stroke me as I come down from the mountain. We're still in the same position, my leg backward around his waist, his softening cock in my ass. My hand closest to him fumbles around, trying to find a place to touch him - his shoulder, his neck, his cheek, his head, and back again. My arm can't find a place where I can rest it on him without it sliding off. It's a weak sort of floppy arm movement and he laughs at me.
"What are you doing with that arm, girl?" he laughs.
"Want to love you," I mutter. He moves his arm, crooks it so that his forearm is holding mine in place so I can rest my hand on him comfortably.
I am spent.
But much later, when I am almost asleep and I am wrapped around him from behind, squeezing him and kissing his neck softly as I drowse, he suddenly says "Turn over so I can fuck you some more."
Oh my God. My stomach does flip-flips. Just to hear those words come out of his mouth sends me all aflutter. I do as he's asked, and he has his way with me from behind. It's like a birthday and a road trip and an excellent homecooked meal all rolled into one. This happens even more rarely than anal, that he interrupts my sleep to take me.
"Where did that come from?" I ask him.
"Mmm, I was thinking about how sexy you are and I got turned on and I thought I should take it since it's mine."
Holy hell. Hotter words were never spoken.
Monday, June 17, 2013
Sex with an alien
The nonstop screaming orgasms that leave me a sweaty, panting mess, unable to speak or move, will come soon. He will shove a huge plug in my ass and then his fingers will make me lose my mind as well as my breath.
But now, he is holding me. I am on my back, his arm is around my neck, and his other hand strokes my breasts. He raises his hand and slaps my breast pretty hard, then returns to gentle stroking while I inhale sharply from the unexpected pain.
"It's okay," he croons, his voice soft in my ear, sending shudders over my body. "It's all right." His fingers stroke, then he slaps my breast again. I squeal. "It's just a beating," he continues, "I'm perfectly entitled to it."
I melt. I melt right there, even as he keeps delivering firm blows to my breast, as the pleasure/pain of the blows waves through my body, and his voice continues: "And you're perfectly deserving of it."
Ohhh he is really good at this. He claimed to be human but I'm still on the fence. Otherwordly man with godlike powers of orgasm - can he be human? I say he's a sex god but he denies that outright.
Maybe all the humans from Europe are like this. . . but I have my doubts.
Damn.
But now, he is holding me. I am on my back, his arm is around my neck, and his other hand strokes my breasts. He raises his hand and slaps my breast pretty hard, then returns to gentle stroking while I inhale sharply from the unexpected pain.
"It's okay," he croons, his voice soft in my ear, sending shudders over my body. "It's all right." His fingers stroke, then he slaps my breast again. I squeal. "It's just a beating," he continues, "I'm perfectly entitled to it."
I melt. I melt right there, even as he keeps delivering firm blows to my breast, as the pleasure/pain of the blows waves through my body, and his voice continues: "And you're perfectly deserving of it."
Ohhh he is really good at this. He claimed to be human but I'm still on the fence. Otherwordly man with godlike powers of orgasm - can he be human? I say he's a sex god but he denies that outright.
Maybe all the humans from Europe are like this. . . but I have my doubts.
Damn.
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Helpless
Right now, I'm barely managing to get around my apartment.
We went hiking, and I sprained the hell out of my ankle after nearly 4.5 miles on the trail. Thankfully it was a loop, and we were almost finished, so the ranger station was close. My love fetched a ranger to help us.
But now I am injured, and one of my deepest, darkest, most frightening and, yes, most exciting fantasies is to be used while being genuinely injured. The fear of possibly being hurt more, the true helplessness, it all blends together beautifully in my brain. I have a swollen, aching foot and the opposite knee is a mass of bruised tissue that hurts really badly as well.
It's been exhausting, relying on my arms, my good knee, and my good foot to get around. My brilliant, loving, sexy husband has been amazing - helpful and solicitous. He's let me give him blow jobs, and he's touched me, brought me to orgasm with his fingers, but he's been terrified of hurting me further - overwhelming me with gentleness. Which feels lovely and like love and I adore him for it, but I was ready for something a little rougher after a few days.
In the mean time, I had been sinking into the feeling of uselessness that comes with not being able to do much. I began to feel more and more like a useless lump of humanity.
I told him. I steeled myself for his shock or disgust, but I should know by now it's hard to faze this man. Even so, revealing these little hidden bits of myself feels terrifying. I told him that my injuries turned me on, made me feel actually, truly helpless. Not like I could get up and run away or anything.
And my man. My wonderful, open-minded, beautiful man who apparently would in actual fact do anything to make me happy, he responded by turning into an evil sadist bastard and beating me, just like I'd asked. He started once we were in bed and he was holding me, long enough after the conversation that I was a little surprised when he went for my ass.
My ass already hurt from sitting on it way too much with my foot up to keep the swelling down, but he didn't care as his hand smacked into my backside. I squealed, I stretched, I squirmed, but I couldn't even kick my injured foot out, couldn't stretch and push away from him with it. Couldn't bash my bruised knee into his leg. I couldn't do much of anything except accept it, cry out, process the pain.
Oh, how I processed the pain. It was brutal but it was teetering on the edge of orgasmic. My brain really, really processed it. It took that pain and wrung every morsel of feeling out of it, through the entire gamut from true discomfort to bliss. He wasn't holding back either, or if he was I couldn't tell. It hurt, and it felt incredible, all at once.
I carefully turned onto my other side, my back toward him, and he had an even better swing now, even more force into my backside. He brought a flogger into play then, smacking the heavy rope strands into my back, my ass, the backs of my legs. It felt incredibly heavy, nearly unbearable, and my body writhed. My foot wanted to push against the mattress, to stretch and to fight, but I had to keep it still or suffer even more.
"You can't get away from me," he growled into my ear, his free hand tangling into and tugging on my hair, "and I think I will fuck you tonight."
I whimpered in response, feeling my body respond, swell, lubricate for the fucking he was promising. But not yet.
My arms were over my head to protect my face and neck from any stray strands of the flogger, and he was taking a break, dragging the soft trailing nylon ends against my skin, making me purr. And then he targeted my breasts - a heavy smack of the heavy rope into my nipple. A knot caught me right on center and the breath whooshed out of me.
"Oh fuck," I breathed out, stretching as much as I could, thrusting my chest forward for more. Holy shit, that was incredible. I can't remember the last time he'd flogged my breasts and my breast was singing a hallelujah chorus of delight while my nipple simultaneously screamed in pain.
"Oh, I think you like that," he growled as he did it again, and again, and again. I screamed for the joy of it, for the pain of it when a knot would catch my nipple again, about every third strike.
"Don't even think of trying to get away," he said, trading the flogger for a braided version that terrifies me when he uses it on my ass. The nylon braids stroked my screaming nipple, made me gasp and whimper. "Writhe for me, girl, writhe. Good fuck toy," he whispered into my ear, swinging the braids down hard against my breast. "If you try to get away, I'll just have to drag you back and beat you more. Can you imagine how much that would hurt?"
I nodded, whimpering with a kind of aroused fear that is completely unique. The thought of him dragging me back to him and beating me after I'd tried to run away on my damaged foot made me even wetter as I writhed under the heavy blows from the braided flogger.
"Oh you are turning me on, girl," he said, moving the bedclothes from between us and letting me feel his erection against my sore ass. "I do think I will have to fuck you," he continued when I moaned my pleasure at feeling him. I moaned and wriggled, leaning forward to provide him easier access to do just that.
"Good hole," he murmured, pressing his hard cock against my slippery opening and resting with just the head inside, until I wriggled.
His fingers stroked my aching nipple and I begged. "Nipple hurts," I whimpered.
"Yeah? That's interesting," he said, squeezing it tighter, making me scream. I wriggled back against him again, wanting more cock, so turned on by his control.
"You want more cock?" he asked. "You want this cock to fuck you?"
"Yes, oh, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," I begged.
And he did. He slid inside, pulling me to him by squeezing my breasts. My ass burned where he'd beaten it, a pleasantly aching reminder when his skin brushed mine. My breasts were still singing joyfully at having been flogged, my nipple screaming in burning agony while he held it tightly, and I loved all of it.
I was so wet. Surely I was wet enough he could fuck my ass. I wanted him to fuck my ass. I wanted to feel completely invaded by him, and I shifted a little to try it.
It wouldn't even go in a little bit. Not even the tiniest, little bit. I groaned my frustration as he resumed fucking my more willing opening.
But later, he went for it himself. He pushed me forward as he fucked me. "You want me to fuck your ass, slave?" he asked. "You want your master to invade you? Would that make you feel more used?"
"Oh my God, yes," I responded, panting, insane with the want of that.
He lubed my ass while he fucked my pussy, making me groan and whimper at the fullness of his finger in my backside.
And then his cock was aimed at the opening that had already rejected him once, but this was his decision and it was going in. As the head made it through I screamed, groaned, and bucked. So intense. Too intense. Couldn't handle it. My body tried to get away even as my brain relished the overload.
"Not going anywhere, fuck hole," he informed me, gripping my hair in one hand, my hip in the other, and pushing steadily onward - but slowly enough I felt properly invaded, not ripped open. It was delicious. "Going to fuck your ass now," he said, and he did.
His hand went back to my nipple, tortured me there a bit while he moved, and then moved between my legs. "Give me that pussy," he growled into my ear, and I opened my legs for him to touch me there, whimpering as his fingers contacted my sensitive clitoris. His cock never stopped moving in my ass, never stopped feeling amazing, as his fingers began to work their magic on my other bits. His thumb was on my clit and he sank some unknown (to me) number of fingers inside my pussy.
"Oh my God, too much, I can't," I groaned as he overloaded my brain with sensation and my body with fullness.
"Too much?" he asked. "No such thing. This is what you're for. You're for your master to fuck and to fill as much as he wants. Isn't that right?"
Oh God, I thought, you're right, I'm for you to fuck.
All that could make it out through my groans was "Yes sir,"
"Your ass makes such a good fuck hole," he growled as his fingers moved in my pussy. My ass clenched on him.
Oh. And I wanted to say You like fucking my good fuck hole? but the thought of saying it was too much and I started to tremble there, impaled on his various parts.
"Oooh," he said, knowing an impending orgasm when he feels one. "My girl is going to come for me while I fuck her ass, isn't she?"
"uhhhh-huh," I groaned, tremors racing over my body.
"Go on then, fuck hole, come while I fuck your ass," he growled, and the thought of it was too much, with his fingers moving inside me, against my clit, his cock in my ass. I came screaming and wishing I could say the things in my head that were contributing to making me come.
The orgasm lasted a long time - he drew it out on purpose with his fingers, his cock, and his voice. When my body was finally limp and relaxed, he pushed against me again. "Not done with you, fuck slave," he said. "You're going to come with my cock fucking your ass again."
It's not hard for him, once he's gotten me there once, to drive me there over and over to the point of exhaustion. So that's what he did this time, finally culminating with his own orgasm.
"You want me to come in your ass, slave? You want your master to fill you up? You want to feel well-used?"
"Oh, fuck, yes," I whispered, hoarse from screaming my own pleasure, still seriously enjoying the sensations of his cock and his hand moving on my sensitive parts.
He groaned his own release into my ear, pulling me tightly to him.
As I stretched in his embrace, practically purring as my faculties of speech came back to me, I said "It's strange that you have to treat me like an object to make me feel like a person again."
He stroked my hair. "Maybe I treat you how you want to be treated, and that acknowledges your wants and desires and makes you feel like a person."
He's a smart man.
And hella sexy.
We went hiking, and I sprained the hell out of my ankle after nearly 4.5 miles on the trail. Thankfully it was a loop, and we were almost finished, so the ranger station was close. My love fetched a ranger to help us.
But now I am injured, and one of my deepest, darkest, most frightening and, yes, most exciting fantasies is to be used while being genuinely injured. The fear of possibly being hurt more, the true helplessness, it all blends together beautifully in my brain. I have a swollen, aching foot and the opposite knee is a mass of bruised tissue that hurts really badly as well.
It's been exhausting, relying on my arms, my good knee, and my good foot to get around. My brilliant, loving, sexy husband has been amazing - helpful and solicitous. He's let me give him blow jobs, and he's touched me, brought me to orgasm with his fingers, but he's been terrified of hurting me further - overwhelming me with gentleness. Which feels lovely and like love and I adore him for it, but I was ready for something a little rougher after a few days.
In the mean time, I had been sinking into the feeling of uselessness that comes with not being able to do much. I began to feel more and more like a useless lump of humanity.
I told him. I steeled myself for his shock or disgust, but I should know by now it's hard to faze this man. Even so, revealing these little hidden bits of myself feels terrifying. I told him that my injuries turned me on, made me feel actually, truly helpless. Not like I could get up and run away or anything.
And my man. My wonderful, open-minded, beautiful man who apparently would in actual fact do anything to make me happy, he responded by turning into an evil sadist bastard and beating me, just like I'd asked. He started once we were in bed and he was holding me, long enough after the conversation that I was a little surprised when he went for my ass.
My ass already hurt from sitting on it way too much with my foot up to keep the swelling down, but he didn't care as his hand smacked into my backside. I squealed, I stretched, I squirmed, but I couldn't even kick my injured foot out, couldn't stretch and push away from him with it. Couldn't bash my bruised knee into his leg. I couldn't do much of anything except accept it, cry out, process the pain.
Oh, how I processed the pain. It was brutal but it was teetering on the edge of orgasmic. My brain really, really processed it. It took that pain and wrung every morsel of feeling out of it, through the entire gamut from true discomfort to bliss. He wasn't holding back either, or if he was I couldn't tell. It hurt, and it felt incredible, all at once.
I carefully turned onto my other side, my back toward him, and he had an even better swing now, even more force into my backside. He brought a flogger into play then, smacking the heavy rope strands into my back, my ass, the backs of my legs. It felt incredibly heavy, nearly unbearable, and my body writhed. My foot wanted to push against the mattress, to stretch and to fight, but I had to keep it still or suffer even more.
"You can't get away from me," he growled into my ear, his free hand tangling into and tugging on my hair, "and I think I will fuck you tonight."
I whimpered in response, feeling my body respond, swell, lubricate for the fucking he was promising. But not yet.
My arms were over my head to protect my face and neck from any stray strands of the flogger, and he was taking a break, dragging the soft trailing nylon ends against my skin, making me purr. And then he targeted my breasts - a heavy smack of the heavy rope into my nipple. A knot caught me right on center and the breath whooshed out of me.
"Oh fuck," I breathed out, stretching as much as I could, thrusting my chest forward for more. Holy shit, that was incredible. I can't remember the last time he'd flogged my breasts and my breast was singing a hallelujah chorus of delight while my nipple simultaneously screamed in pain.
"Oh, I think you like that," he growled as he did it again, and again, and again. I screamed for the joy of it, for the pain of it when a knot would catch my nipple again, about every third strike.
"Don't even think of trying to get away," he said, trading the flogger for a braided version that terrifies me when he uses it on my ass. The nylon braids stroked my screaming nipple, made me gasp and whimper. "Writhe for me, girl, writhe. Good fuck toy," he whispered into my ear, swinging the braids down hard against my breast. "If you try to get away, I'll just have to drag you back and beat you more. Can you imagine how much that would hurt?"
I nodded, whimpering with a kind of aroused fear that is completely unique. The thought of him dragging me back to him and beating me after I'd tried to run away on my damaged foot made me even wetter as I writhed under the heavy blows from the braided flogger.
"Oh you are turning me on, girl," he said, moving the bedclothes from between us and letting me feel his erection against my sore ass. "I do think I will have to fuck you," he continued when I moaned my pleasure at feeling him. I moaned and wriggled, leaning forward to provide him easier access to do just that.
"Good hole," he murmured, pressing his hard cock against my slippery opening and resting with just the head inside, until I wriggled.
His fingers stroked my aching nipple and I begged. "Nipple hurts," I whimpered.
"Yeah? That's interesting," he said, squeezing it tighter, making me scream. I wriggled back against him again, wanting more cock, so turned on by his control.
"You want more cock?" he asked. "You want this cock to fuck you?"
"Yes, oh, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," I begged.
And he did. He slid inside, pulling me to him by squeezing my breasts. My ass burned where he'd beaten it, a pleasantly aching reminder when his skin brushed mine. My breasts were still singing joyfully at having been flogged, my nipple screaming in burning agony while he held it tightly, and I loved all of it.
I was so wet. Surely I was wet enough he could fuck my ass. I wanted him to fuck my ass. I wanted to feel completely invaded by him, and I shifted a little to try it.
It wouldn't even go in a little bit. Not even the tiniest, little bit. I groaned my frustration as he resumed fucking my more willing opening.
But later, he went for it himself. He pushed me forward as he fucked me. "You want me to fuck your ass, slave?" he asked. "You want your master to invade you? Would that make you feel more used?"
"Oh my God, yes," I responded, panting, insane with the want of that.
He lubed my ass while he fucked my pussy, making me groan and whimper at the fullness of his finger in my backside.
And then his cock was aimed at the opening that had already rejected him once, but this was his decision and it was going in. As the head made it through I screamed, groaned, and bucked. So intense. Too intense. Couldn't handle it. My body tried to get away even as my brain relished the overload.
"Not going anywhere, fuck hole," he informed me, gripping my hair in one hand, my hip in the other, and pushing steadily onward - but slowly enough I felt properly invaded, not ripped open. It was delicious. "Going to fuck your ass now," he said, and he did.
His hand went back to my nipple, tortured me there a bit while he moved, and then moved between my legs. "Give me that pussy," he growled into my ear, and I opened my legs for him to touch me there, whimpering as his fingers contacted my sensitive clitoris. His cock never stopped moving in my ass, never stopped feeling amazing, as his fingers began to work their magic on my other bits. His thumb was on my clit and he sank some unknown (to me) number of fingers inside my pussy.
"Oh my God, too much, I can't," I groaned as he overloaded my brain with sensation and my body with fullness.
"Too much?" he asked. "No such thing. This is what you're for. You're for your master to fuck and to fill as much as he wants. Isn't that right?"
Oh God, I thought, you're right, I'm for you to fuck.
All that could make it out through my groans was "Yes sir,"
"Your ass makes such a good fuck hole," he growled as his fingers moved in my pussy. My ass clenched on him.
Oh. And I wanted to say You like fucking my good fuck hole? but the thought of saying it was too much and I started to tremble there, impaled on his various parts.
"Oooh," he said, knowing an impending orgasm when he feels one. "My girl is going to come for me while I fuck her ass, isn't she?"
"uhhhh-huh," I groaned, tremors racing over my body.
"Go on then, fuck hole, come while I fuck your ass," he growled, and the thought of it was too much, with his fingers moving inside me, against my clit, his cock in my ass. I came screaming and wishing I could say the things in my head that were contributing to making me come.
The orgasm lasted a long time - he drew it out on purpose with his fingers, his cock, and his voice. When my body was finally limp and relaxed, he pushed against me again. "Not done with you, fuck slave," he said. "You're going to come with my cock fucking your ass again."
It's not hard for him, once he's gotten me there once, to drive me there over and over to the point of exhaustion. So that's what he did this time, finally culminating with his own orgasm.
"You want me to come in your ass, slave? You want your master to fill you up? You want to feel well-used?"
"Oh, fuck, yes," I whispered, hoarse from screaming my own pleasure, still seriously enjoying the sensations of his cock and his hand moving on my sensitive parts.
He groaned his own release into my ear, pulling me tightly to him.
As I stretched in his embrace, practically purring as my faculties of speech came back to me, I said "It's strange that you have to treat me like an object to make me feel like a person again."
He stroked my hair. "Maybe I treat you how you want to be treated, and that acknowledges your wants and desires and makes you feel like a person."
He's a smart man.
And hella sexy.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Forced helplessness
There's a certain aspect of D/s sexual interaction that really gets me going: Being punished, chastised, or otherwise taken to task for something the bottom has no control over, or something the top has actively caused.
Usually the only place I get to see these scenarios is in bad snuff fiction with psychopathic kidnapping murderers, but something over on aisha's the other day triggered my "yummy!" sensor. I thought my husband was aware of this kink of mine, but turns out it must have been buried under all the other kinks of mine littering his poor brain. So when I started talking about it, he got pretty excited. Apparently he likes to learn things about me he either doesn't know or has forgotten.
What followed that conversation was experimental on his part, and very, very intense for me.
"Why did you like that spoon on your face so much?" he asked, stroking my cheek, covering my face with his hand and pressing hard.
"I dunno," I moaned against his palm, then, giving it a little more thought, "I like it when you do things to my face." I'm pretty sure that was already obvious since I was sort of melting into him, moving my face into his hand as it roamed.
"Hmm," he pondered, kissing me, stroking my face all over, "I think there's a part of you... that wants me to slap it."
I moaned.
"But I said I wouldn't do that, didn't I? That I wouldn't slap the pretty girl's face.." he lifted his hand from my cheek, pausing as if to slap me, but he didn't. I felt my whole body flush, and suddenly I was hot.
He moved his hand, slapped my breasts one at a time, kept talking about slapping my face. His exact words are lost in the roar of blood in my ears, in the sounds of his hand smacking into my breasts over and over. His lips claimed mine eventually, kissing me senseless while his hand gripped my hair, tugging my face into him, pulling my hair, making me cry out.
"I'm surprised you don't fight back more," he said as he slapped my breasts.
"You don't like that," I answered softly.
"I suppose a submissive girl might just like to submit," he continued.
"I like to fight," I whispered, even lower.
"That's right, you do," he murmured. "I suppose I might like to feel wanted... like you're just saying 'Here I am. I'm yours, do as you wish with me.'" I was on my back next to him, he was on his side facing me. My right leg was trapped between both of his, his leg tossed over my hip and bent so it crossed my leg a second time. His hand was in my hair, his other hand gripping my throat as he kissed me, as he spoke those words. His fingers moved from my throat down my front, toying with my nipples, slipping lower, lower, until he parted my sex.
I nearly screamed when he drew my wetness over my clit. I spasmed, my trapped leg trying to pull away.
"Where is that leg trying to go?"
"Nowhere," I hurried to answer. I wasn't quite sure what he had planned, wasn't sure of anything except how very turned on I was. So I answered honestly.
"You like having your legs forced apart," he noted as I moaned when his leg tightened on mine, dragged it further away from my other one.
"Uh-huh," I answered, his fingers on my sex pretty much robbing me of intelligent language.
"Are you my slut?"
"Uh-huh." I would have agreed to almost anything at that point, but then I started thinking.
"Are you a cock slut?" His fingers, God, his fingers, making me crazy, how can I think, how can I have this conversation?
"Nooo," I protested.
"No? What kind of slut are you, then?"
"Nooo," I argued, brilliantly.
"You don't get to say no now, girl, it's too late. Cock slut. You want this cock to fuck you, don't you?" he asked, his fingers sliding inside me, making me buck up into his hand.
"Uh-huh," I said, twisting.
"So why don't you turn on your side and let me fuck you from behind then?" he said, a little edge to his voice that should have warned me something was up.
I tried. I really, really tried. But the way he was holding me, I couldn't turn. Each time I tried to turn, I felt the muscles of his legs tense around me, holding me in place, holding me open. "Come on, cock slut, just turn over. I guess you don't want it bad enough. I guess you don't want to be fucked from behind at all." His finger moved, faster and faster, lighter and lighter, on my clit, and my body arched up off the bed, still trying to turn, but unable. That is when the orgasm hit me, as his words crashed into me without letup, as his finger worked its magic, as he held me in place even as I tried to do what he told me.
Fuck, yes, I came. How could I not?
"Silly slut can't even do what she's told," he murmured into my ear as I panted. "I guess you don't really want it - but guess what? I want it. I guess I'll just have to show you how it's done." With that, he took his leg off me and roughly - roughly - shoved me over onto my side. I can't even tell you what that I want it did to me. Just whoa.
"Give me that pussy," he growled as he prodded the head of his cock into me. But his hand was on my ass, pressing me forward. Oh, fuck. I tried to back onto him, to feel him filling me, but he pushed on me just enough so I could get about half his cock inside. "Come on, girl, give it to me," he growled again, as I tried to find some leverage on our featureless bed to press against. My hands slid helplessly over the smooth sheets, we don't have a headboard, pressing into the wall would be the wrong direction. I moaned deeply, frustrated, even as I felt myself grow impossibly wetter.
"I guess you really don't want it that badly," he whispered, grabbing ahold of me and yanking me all the way onto him, filling me up by ramming us into each other. I squealed as he hit bottom, stretching me out suddenly and quickly. Fuck.
"You're my property, aren't you?" he murmured, long minutes later, my legs splayed open, one wrapped behind his back, his fingers stroking my clit while he fucked me.
"Yes, yes, yes," I panted.
"Putty in my fingers, aren't you?" he asked. "Do whatever I tell you?"
"Uh-huh," I groaned, as those very fingers drove me insane with pleasure.
"Turn over and suck my cock, then," he said.
He let me, though I moved slowly, like one in a dream. I love the taste of me on him, of us together like that. I licked slowly up his length, tasting, before I let myself suck him in.
"Oh, that's a good girl, good girl likes to suck the cock, doesn't she?"
He was fucking into my throat, pulling my hair, telling me what a good fuckhole I am when our poor sick munchkin came zombying into the room. At least the kid has good timing and it was a good moment for interruption.
It was more a laugh and a "Poor baby" than a scream of frustration, at least for me.
And we finished, later, after settling the poor kid down. That story is less defined in my memory, though.
But holy hell, what a first outing for the bits of 'new' knowledge.
Somewhere up there, in our conversation, we were talking about him beating me, and he said "But it's so much fun!"
I don't know where it fits in the greater narrative, but it definitely struck a happy chord inside this girl and I wanted to make sure I mentioned it.
Usually the only place I get to see these scenarios is in bad snuff fiction with psychopathic kidnapping murderers, but something over on aisha's the other day triggered my "yummy!" sensor. I thought my husband was aware of this kink of mine, but turns out it must have been buried under all the other kinks of mine littering his poor brain. So when I started talking about it, he got pretty excited. Apparently he likes to learn things about me he either doesn't know or has forgotten.
What followed that conversation was experimental on his part, and very, very intense for me.
"Why did you like that spoon on your face so much?" he asked, stroking my cheek, covering my face with his hand and pressing hard.
"I dunno," I moaned against his palm, then, giving it a little more thought, "I like it when you do things to my face." I'm pretty sure that was already obvious since I was sort of melting into him, moving my face into his hand as it roamed.
"Hmm," he pondered, kissing me, stroking my face all over, "I think there's a part of you... that wants me to slap it."
I moaned.
"But I said I wouldn't do that, didn't I? That I wouldn't slap the pretty girl's face.." he lifted his hand from my cheek, pausing as if to slap me, but he didn't. I felt my whole body flush, and suddenly I was hot.
He moved his hand, slapped my breasts one at a time, kept talking about slapping my face. His exact words are lost in the roar of blood in my ears, in the sounds of his hand smacking into my breasts over and over. His lips claimed mine eventually, kissing me senseless while his hand gripped my hair, tugging my face into him, pulling my hair, making me cry out.
"I'm surprised you don't fight back more," he said as he slapped my breasts.
"You don't like that," I answered softly.
"I suppose a submissive girl might just like to submit," he continued.
"I like to fight," I whispered, even lower.
"That's right, you do," he murmured. "I suppose I might like to feel wanted... like you're just saying 'Here I am. I'm yours, do as you wish with me.'" I was on my back next to him, he was on his side facing me. My right leg was trapped between both of his, his leg tossed over my hip and bent so it crossed my leg a second time. His hand was in my hair, his other hand gripping my throat as he kissed me, as he spoke those words. His fingers moved from my throat down my front, toying with my nipples, slipping lower, lower, until he parted my sex.
I nearly screamed when he drew my wetness over my clit. I spasmed, my trapped leg trying to pull away.
"Where is that leg trying to go?"
"Nowhere," I hurried to answer. I wasn't quite sure what he had planned, wasn't sure of anything except how very turned on I was. So I answered honestly.
"You like having your legs forced apart," he noted as I moaned when his leg tightened on mine, dragged it further away from my other one.
"Uh-huh," I answered, his fingers on my sex pretty much robbing me of intelligent language.
"Are you my slut?"
"Uh-huh." I would have agreed to almost anything at that point, but then I started thinking.
"Are you a cock slut?" His fingers, God, his fingers, making me crazy, how can I think, how can I have this conversation?
"Nooo," I protested.
"No? What kind of slut are you, then?"
"Nooo," I argued, brilliantly.
"You don't get to say no now, girl, it's too late. Cock slut. You want this cock to fuck you, don't you?" he asked, his fingers sliding inside me, making me buck up into his hand.
"Uh-huh," I said, twisting.
"So why don't you turn on your side and let me fuck you from behind then?" he said, a little edge to his voice that should have warned me something was up.
I tried. I really, really tried. But the way he was holding me, I couldn't turn. Each time I tried to turn, I felt the muscles of his legs tense around me, holding me in place, holding me open. "Come on, cock slut, just turn over. I guess you don't want it bad enough. I guess you don't want to be fucked from behind at all." His finger moved, faster and faster, lighter and lighter, on my clit, and my body arched up off the bed, still trying to turn, but unable. That is when the orgasm hit me, as his words crashed into me without letup, as his finger worked its magic, as he held me in place even as I tried to do what he told me.
Fuck, yes, I came. How could I not?
"Silly slut can't even do what she's told," he murmured into my ear as I panted. "I guess you don't really want it - but guess what? I want it. I guess I'll just have to show you how it's done." With that, he took his leg off me and roughly - roughly - shoved me over onto my side. I can't even tell you what that I want it did to me. Just whoa.
"Give me that pussy," he growled as he prodded the head of his cock into me. But his hand was on my ass, pressing me forward. Oh, fuck. I tried to back onto him, to feel him filling me, but he pushed on me just enough so I could get about half his cock inside. "Come on, girl, give it to me," he growled again, as I tried to find some leverage on our featureless bed to press against. My hands slid helplessly over the smooth sheets, we don't have a headboard, pressing into the wall would be the wrong direction. I moaned deeply, frustrated, even as I felt myself grow impossibly wetter.
"I guess you really don't want it that badly," he whispered, grabbing ahold of me and yanking me all the way onto him, filling me up by ramming us into each other. I squealed as he hit bottom, stretching me out suddenly and quickly. Fuck.
"You're my property, aren't you?" he murmured, long minutes later, my legs splayed open, one wrapped behind his back, his fingers stroking my clit while he fucked me.
"Yes, yes, yes," I panted.
"Putty in my fingers, aren't you?" he asked. "Do whatever I tell you?"
"Uh-huh," I groaned, as those very fingers drove me insane with pleasure.
"Turn over and suck my cock, then," he said.
He let me, though I moved slowly, like one in a dream. I love the taste of me on him, of us together like that. I licked slowly up his length, tasting, before I let myself suck him in.
"Oh, that's a good girl, good girl likes to suck the cock, doesn't she?"
He was fucking into my throat, pulling my hair, telling me what a good fuckhole I am when our poor sick munchkin came zombying into the room. At least the kid has good timing and it was a good moment for interruption.
It was more a laugh and a "Poor baby" than a scream of frustration, at least for me.
And we finished, later, after settling the poor kid down. That story is less defined in my memory, though.
But holy hell, what a first outing for the bits of 'new' knowledge.
Somewhere up there, in our conversation, we were talking about him beating me, and he said "But it's so much fun!"
I don't know where it fits in the greater narrative, but it definitely struck a happy chord inside this girl and I wanted to make sure I mentioned it.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Upping the ante, part 1
"Why are we going to bed so early?" I asked my husband, realizing it was only 9 PM, and secretly thrilling a little inside.
"Seemed like a good time to go to bed," he replied as he slid into bed next to me, pulling me close to him. "Is this new, what you're wearing?" He ran his hand down my body to indicate the nightie I'd put on.
"No," I was turned away from him so he couldn't see my smile. It's rare he seems to pay attention to what I'm wearing.
"Just don't wear it often?"
"I brought it from home when we came back," I answered. "I left a lot of stuff like this back there."
"Why is that?"
"I thought maybe we wouldn't be having sex so much after." I laughed at my own thought processes from the time. "And... maybe that you didn't care so much anyway."
He laughed too. "No sex for a year? What do you think now?" His voice was right in my ear, his lips grazing my neck after he spoke, sending shivers down my spine.
"Mmmm, which do you mean?"
"Do you still think I'm not going to have sex with you?"
I laughed pretty loudly then, the very concept foreign enough that it was ridiculous. "No," I said quickly amidst my laughter.
"Good," he said, his hands pulling me closer. "And I do care."
Huh. That's news to me. Never noticed him caring. Score one for communication.
He lit a candle, turned off the lamp, and turned back to me. I was purring as he stroked me, stretching into him. "What's on the menu tonight then?"
"Mmm... love. Maybe some pain." His hands kept stroking me and I made soft noises of appreciation with each item as he listed them. "Some claiming of you... some entering of you."
I had turned toward him as he spoke, and let my hands dance over his skin for a bit, being sure he was finished talking. "Sounds like a nice menu," I said appreciatively.
"I'd like it if you'd kiss me," he whispered.
I like to give him what he likes. So I tilted my face up to his and kissed him, softly at first and with more hunger as his responses fueled mine. My breast rested on his chest, he shoved my nightie out of the way and his fingers stroked my nipple there as we kissed, making me purr. "Love," he breathed out, his fingers gently rolling my nipple.
"Love you," I responded, sucking on his full lower lip.
He slapped my nipple then, pretty sharply. I yelped, jumping a little with the pain.
"Pain," he whispered.
Oh, I get it. It's the menu. He's delivering the menu. My thoughts didn't have much time to settle there because he was slapping my nipple over and over and I was groaning.
He pushed me onto my back so he could slap my breast full on, and I arched into each blow. Oh wow. How long must it have been since he'd done this? Days, at least. I moaned with every thud into my chest.
And then he stopped. What? I was unfocused, breathing hard, bereft of attention but not sure how to process. He'd turned away and was looking for something in his nightstand. "Ahh," he finally said, and turned back to me, rubbing the back of the wooden spoon against my nipple. I shivered and whimpered, a little fearful, but also excited.
He started tapping that spoon into my nipples, lightly at first, and harder as I rose up into the taps, groaning with deep satisfaction. "Oh wow, look at you," he said as he continued, on and on until I lost all thoughts except rising up into the strokes of the spoon, feeling the impacts into my nipples. I was so, so aroused. I could feel myself growing wetter with each blow.
I shivered as he leaned over to kiss me, the spoon resting against the inside of my forearm where it lay on the bed. He took advantage of that position to hit me there, all up and down my inner forearm while he kissed me. I cried out into his mouth as the wood left its mark on my sensitive skin. It felt incredible, and I was overwhelmed. As he hit me on the inner arm, as he kissed me and did whatever else he was doing, I felt myself begin to shake. I arched up as he kept slapping my sensitive skin with the spoon, and I felt an orgasm washing over me. I screamed, shaking as it went through me. "Oh my," he whispered as I vibrated beneath him.
It hurt more when he finally stopped; my flesh throbbed and complained.
"Open your legs for me," he said. He would normally knock them apart but he was propped on one elbow and his other hand was holding the spoon. I whimpered, a little fearful, but I obeyed. He ran the spoon over my inner thighs, over my pussy that was still covered by panties. He slipped them off, then ran the spoon over me again. I whimpered.
"Are you afraid of me?" he asked.
"A little," I answered.
He started slapping the spoon against my inner thighs, just enough to leave a sting behind but not enough to make me feel like I was dying. I was happy with that, lifting my hips and squirming, and then he brushed it over my pussy again, slowly, deliberately.
He is very, very good with the spoon. As he told me later - spoons don't hit people, people hit people. So my initial hate for the thing was on the way he was using it, of course. Residual traces of that fear still linger. I tensed up.
He bent over so that his upper body was across my midsection, facing my spread thighs, pinning me there. I cried out - this was unexpected. He slapped my pussy and my thighs with the spoon, making me writhe beneath him, making me moan and cry out unintelligible sounds.
He resumed his previous position beside me when he was finished, kissing me as he ran the spoon up my body. "Mine," he said against my lips, his free hand gripping my throat and keeping me there while he plundered my mouth. "So mine." His hand ran over my face, and I pressed my face into his hand as it passed, covering my eyes, my nose, my mouth. He pressed. I love it when he presses my face like that. I moaned into his hand.
The spoon rubbed against my cheek, and my mouth opened. He was looking at me, his gaze trapped mine as he slowly, deliberately, slapped my cheek with the spoon. I trembled, a cry spilling from my mouth as he did it again. "Mine," he said firmly, slapping my face with the spoon while I moaned helplessly.
Oh my God he's slapping my face with a wooden spoon. Oh my God. I writhed. Shivers overtook me and I couldn't stop shaking. He finally stopped, put the spoon down, and kissed me while his fingers found their way between my legs. I knew what he would find there.
"Oh my, what have we here?" he asked as his fingers delved into my wetness, as he made little noises come out of me with the slightest touch. "I think we have a nice wet pussy. I think it likes what I do to you."
He played with me a bit, his fingers sliding inside me, his thumb stroking my clit, making me twist and groan. He kissed me the whole time.
"I want you..." he said softly against my lips.
"I want you." I answered, kissing him more fervently.
"... to suck my cock," he finished.
Continued here...
"Seemed like a good time to go to bed," he replied as he slid into bed next to me, pulling me close to him. "Is this new, what you're wearing?" He ran his hand down my body to indicate the nightie I'd put on.
"No," I was turned away from him so he couldn't see my smile. It's rare he seems to pay attention to what I'm wearing.
"Just don't wear it often?"
"I brought it from home when we came back," I answered. "I left a lot of stuff like this back there."
"Why is that?"
"I thought maybe we wouldn't be having sex so much after." I laughed at my own thought processes from the time. "And... maybe that you didn't care so much anyway."
He laughed too. "No sex for a year? What do you think now?" His voice was right in my ear, his lips grazing my neck after he spoke, sending shivers down my spine.
"Mmmm, which do you mean?"
"Do you still think I'm not going to have sex with you?"
I laughed pretty loudly then, the very concept foreign enough that it was ridiculous. "No," I said quickly amidst my laughter.
"Good," he said, his hands pulling me closer. "And I do care."
Huh. That's news to me. Never noticed him caring. Score one for communication.
He lit a candle, turned off the lamp, and turned back to me. I was purring as he stroked me, stretching into him. "What's on the menu tonight then?"
"Mmm... love. Maybe some pain." His hands kept stroking me and I made soft noises of appreciation with each item as he listed them. "Some claiming of you... some entering of you."
I had turned toward him as he spoke, and let my hands dance over his skin for a bit, being sure he was finished talking. "Sounds like a nice menu," I said appreciatively.
"I'd like it if you'd kiss me," he whispered.
I like to give him what he likes. So I tilted my face up to his and kissed him, softly at first and with more hunger as his responses fueled mine. My breast rested on his chest, he shoved my nightie out of the way and his fingers stroked my nipple there as we kissed, making me purr. "Love," he breathed out, his fingers gently rolling my nipple.
"Love you," I responded, sucking on his full lower lip.
He slapped my nipple then, pretty sharply. I yelped, jumping a little with the pain.
"Pain," he whispered.
Oh, I get it. It's the menu. He's delivering the menu. My thoughts didn't have much time to settle there because he was slapping my nipple over and over and I was groaning.
He pushed me onto my back so he could slap my breast full on, and I arched into each blow. Oh wow. How long must it have been since he'd done this? Days, at least. I moaned with every thud into my chest.
And then he stopped. What? I was unfocused, breathing hard, bereft of attention but not sure how to process. He'd turned away and was looking for something in his nightstand. "Ahh," he finally said, and turned back to me, rubbing the back of the wooden spoon against my nipple. I shivered and whimpered, a little fearful, but also excited.
He started tapping that spoon into my nipples, lightly at first, and harder as I rose up into the taps, groaning with deep satisfaction. "Oh wow, look at you," he said as he continued, on and on until I lost all thoughts except rising up into the strokes of the spoon, feeling the impacts into my nipples. I was so, so aroused. I could feel myself growing wetter with each blow.
I shivered as he leaned over to kiss me, the spoon resting against the inside of my forearm where it lay on the bed. He took advantage of that position to hit me there, all up and down my inner forearm while he kissed me. I cried out into his mouth as the wood left its mark on my sensitive skin. It felt incredible, and I was overwhelmed. As he hit me on the inner arm, as he kissed me and did whatever else he was doing, I felt myself begin to shake. I arched up as he kept slapping my sensitive skin with the spoon, and I felt an orgasm washing over me. I screamed, shaking as it went through me. "Oh my," he whispered as I vibrated beneath him.
It hurt more when he finally stopped; my flesh throbbed and complained.
"Open your legs for me," he said. He would normally knock them apart but he was propped on one elbow and his other hand was holding the spoon. I whimpered, a little fearful, but I obeyed. He ran the spoon over my inner thighs, over my pussy that was still covered by panties. He slipped them off, then ran the spoon over me again. I whimpered.
"Are you afraid of me?" he asked.
"A little," I answered.
He started slapping the spoon against my inner thighs, just enough to leave a sting behind but not enough to make me feel like I was dying. I was happy with that, lifting my hips and squirming, and then he brushed it over my pussy again, slowly, deliberately.
He is very, very good with the spoon. As he told me later - spoons don't hit people, people hit people. So my initial hate for the thing was on the way he was using it, of course. Residual traces of that fear still linger. I tensed up.
He bent over so that his upper body was across my midsection, facing my spread thighs, pinning me there. I cried out - this was unexpected. He slapped my pussy and my thighs with the spoon, making me writhe beneath him, making me moan and cry out unintelligible sounds.
He resumed his previous position beside me when he was finished, kissing me as he ran the spoon up my body. "Mine," he said against my lips, his free hand gripping my throat and keeping me there while he plundered my mouth. "So mine." His hand ran over my face, and I pressed my face into his hand as it passed, covering my eyes, my nose, my mouth. He pressed. I love it when he presses my face like that. I moaned into his hand.
The spoon rubbed against my cheek, and my mouth opened. He was looking at me, his gaze trapped mine as he slowly, deliberately, slapped my cheek with the spoon. I trembled, a cry spilling from my mouth as he did it again. "Mine," he said firmly, slapping my face with the spoon while I moaned helplessly.
Oh my God he's slapping my face with a wooden spoon. Oh my God. I writhed. Shivers overtook me and I couldn't stop shaking. He finally stopped, put the spoon down, and kissed me while his fingers found their way between my legs. I knew what he would find there.
"Oh my, what have we here?" he asked as his fingers delved into my wetness, as he made little noises come out of me with the slightest touch. "I think we have a nice wet pussy. I think it likes what I do to you."
He played with me a bit, his fingers sliding inside me, his thumb stroking my clit, making me twist and groan. He kissed me the whole time.
"I want you..." he said softly against my lips.
"I want you." I answered, kissing him more fervently.
"... to suck my cock," he finished.
Continued here...
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Belted, flogged, fucked
My Christmas spanking went on forever. His hand smacked into my backside until I was tender, crying out, protesting with each blow.
"It hurts," I begged.
"Hmmm.. you're right. My hand does hurt," he murmured, and rummaged in the drawer for something. I felt the cool faux leather of his old belt brush against my heated skin and I inhaled sharply, anticipating the blow that was to come to my already tenderized flesh. It did not disappoint. I yelped loudly as it smashed against me.
"Oh my God, it hurts so much," I whimpered as he kept striking my ass and the backs of my thighs with the belt. I squirmed. I wanted it over and I didn't want it over at all. I wanted it to go on forever but I thought that might just destroy me.
"Poor thing," he whispered, giving me a break, smoothing his hand gently over my heated bottom. I gasped as even his gentle touch hurt. A flogger, then, glorious and soft and cool, draping over my burning rear, trailing its tiny knots up my back. Oh, it felt amazing, soothing my pain as it settled from a fiery burning sting to a deep ache.
"Ahhhhhhh," I breathed out with relief, and then he was flogging me. Smack, swish, smack. Oh, that felt divine too, the softness of the cold rope falls thudding into and gliding over my hot skin, my legs, my back. I was squirming in an altogether different way, presenting my ass to him and writhing in sheer pleasure as long soft moans of delight came from me.
"Turn over," he ordered after a long time of this.
I moaned at the thought of putting weight on my back and ass, but I did it. My bottom complained, but it settled to a dull roar as my husband began to flog my breasts. Oh. Yes, I like that. My body surged up into the blows, offering my breasts to the lash of the flogger each time it retreated. My mouth was open, a stream of delighted gasps and pleased moans issuing from it. I was on, all right.
Suddenly, he was on top of me, and his cock was sliding into my extremely wet pussy. I groaned as his hardness filled up all the space inside me, and he thrust down into me a few times, making me clench around him and purr with the delicious feeling of being impaled.
He withdrew far too soon, though, and slid up my body to slide his cock into my mouth, letting me taste my own arousal on his skin. I was out of my mind with want, and I sucked on him fervently. But then he was gone. He was sitting on my midsection, and I heard sounds. My head was still tossed back, my eyes squeezed shut - wet sounds were coming from him, but he wasn't moving.
Oh, God, what is he doing? I thought to myself, and slowly, slowly, I moved my head to look at him.
He was straddling my midsection, slowly masturbating his hard cock. The wet sounds were the moisture from my body on his cock as his foreskin slid over the shaft. "What if I just sit here and masturbate? What will you do?"
I groaned, twisting beneath him, mouth open, tilting my hips up more. I thrashed. There was no way I could get to his cock with any part of me, the way he was sitting.
"I see. You'll go crazy. Which part of you should I fuck?" he asked deliberately, still sliding his foreskin over the head of his cock. "Does your mouth want it more? Or your pussy?"
"I don't care, I just want it in me," I panted, and even as I spoke he was sliding down between my legs.
"Was that an order? I don't take orders so well, you know." He nudged the head of his cock against my sex, letting it slip inside just a very little bit.
"God, no, please... please fuck me," I begged, tilting my hips up to him.
"That's better," he whispered, letting his cock press all the way into me. "Good fuck toy," he said, a groan from him indicating how good it felt, even as I was gasping with the sensations flooding me.
A blur. Moving, sighing, whispered words of pleasure, love, dominance. Oh, it felt amazing.
After he was finished, his fingers found their way inside me and I was screaming. Screaming, as he said "Come for me, yes, good girl, come for me - merry Christmas, fuck hole."
Over and over. Until I was begging for him to stop, for the pleasure to end. Begging, because I was exhausted, soaked with sweat, and sore. My muscles vibrated with the intensity of the repeated release.
But "lots of orgasms" is what I asked for.
He does love to give me what I want.
"It hurts," I begged.
"Hmmm.. you're right. My hand does hurt," he murmured, and rummaged in the drawer for something. I felt the cool faux leather of his old belt brush against my heated skin and I inhaled sharply, anticipating the blow that was to come to my already tenderized flesh. It did not disappoint. I yelped loudly as it smashed against me.
"Oh my God, it hurts so much," I whimpered as he kept striking my ass and the backs of my thighs with the belt. I squirmed. I wanted it over and I didn't want it over at all. I wanted it to go on forever but I thought that might just destroy me.
"Poor thing," he whispered, giving me a break, smoothing his hand gently over my heated bottom. I gasped as even his gentle touch hurt. A flogger, then, glorious and soft and cool, draping over my burning rear, trailing its tiny knots up my back. Oh, it felt amazing, soothing my pain as it settled from a fiery burning sting to a deep ache.
"Ahhhhhhh," I breathed out with relief, and then he was flogging me. Smack, swish, smack. Oh, that felt divine too, the softness of the cold rope falls thudding into and gliding over my hot skin, my legs, my back. I was squirming in an altogether different way, presenting my ass to him and writhing in sheer pleasure as long soft moans of delight came from me.
"Turn over," he ordered after a long time of this.
I moaned at the thought of putting weight on my back and ass, but I did it. My bottom complained, but it settled to a dull roar as my husband began to flog my breasts. Oh. Yes, I like that. My body surged up into the blows, offering my breasts to the lash of the flogger each time it retreated. My mouth was open, a stream of delighted gasps and pleased moans issuing from it. I was on, all right.
Suddenly, he was on top of me, and his cock was sliding into my extremely wet pussy. I groaned as his hardness filled up all the space inside me, and he thrust down into me a few times, making me clench around him and purr with the delicious feeling of being impaled.
He withdrew far too soon, though, and slid up my body to slide his cock into my mouth, letting me taste my own arousal on his skin. I was out of my mind with want, and I sucked on him fervently. But then he was gone. He was sitting on my midsection, and I heard sounds. My head was still tossed back, my eyes squeezed shut - wet sounds were coming from him, but he wasn't moving.
Oh, God, what is he doing? I thought to myself, and slowly, slowly, I moved my head to look at him.
He was straddling my midsection, slowly masturbating his hard cock. The wet sounds were the moisture from my body on his cock as his foreskin slid over the shaft. "What if I just sit here and masturbate? What will you do?"
I groaned, twisting beneath him, mouth open, tilting my hips up more. I thrashed. There was no way I could get to his cock with any part of me, the way he was sitting.
"I see. You'll go crazy. Which part of you should I fuck?" he asked deliberately, still sliding his foreskin over the head of his cock. "Does your mouth want it more? Or your pussy?"
"I don't care, I just want it in me," I panted, and even as I spoke he was sliding down between my legs.
"Was that an order? I don't take orders so well, you know." He nudged the head of his cock against my sex, letting it slip inside just a very little bit.
"God, no, please... please fuck me," I begged, tilting my hips up to him.
"That's better," he whispered, letting his cock press all the way into me. "Good fuck toy," he said, a groan from him indicating how good it felt, even as I was gasping with the sensations flooding me.
A blur. Moving, sighing, whispered words of pleasure, love, dominance. Oh, it felt amazing.
After he was finished, his fingers found their way inside me and I was screaming. Screaming, as he said "Come for me, yes, good girl, come for me - merry Christmas, fuck hole."
Over and over. Until I was begging for him to stop, for the pleasure to end. Begging, because I was exhausted, soaked with sweat, and sore. My muscles vibrated with the intensity of the repeated release.
But "lots of orgasms" is what I asked for.
He does love to give me what I want.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Alone together
What are two kinky grown people to do when they're left alone for an hour or so in her mom's living room?
What else?
"What you wanna do now?" I asked my husband as the car left the driveway. We were sitting on the sofa. He waggled his eyebrows at me suggestively and I giggled.
His arm was around me and I was kissing his throat, still giggling a little. He tightened his grip and just like that, I was there, his. He shoved my shirt up, shoved my bra out of the way, and his lips were fastened to my nipple - sucking, biting, hurting. I moaned, sliding into the corner of the sofa against the arm, half reclining.
He had my jeans off, and then the layer of long underwear, followed by my panties. "Gonna fuck you, girl," he growled, his hand on my back forcing me to arch my breasts more into his face. His other hand started slapping the breast that he wasn't torturing with his mouth. He was sucking and biting on one side and spanking on the other. I was twisting, but he held me fast.
"Are you for me to fuck?" he asked.
"Yes sir," I moaned.
He shoved my legs apart - one along the sofa's cushions, the other stretched out on the floor, and started spanking my inner thighs, forcing little cries from me with each slap. The Christmas tree twinkled at me.
"Look at you, all naked," he murmured, spanking my spread pussy, making me scream. "Well, mostly." My shirt and bra, pushed up over my breasts, accentuated my nudity rather than helping me feel more covered. I moaned. I felt his hips lift, heard the sofa's springs creak, as he divested himself of his own jeans. His hard cock poked through the slit in his boxers and pressed against my bare leg, the intense heat of it contrasting with the chill of the room that was already trying to settle on my skin.
He was enjoying slapping my sensitive parts far too much. Thigh, pussy, other thigh. I arched into him, and his fingers were gentle, touching my folds but not delving very deep. I groaned.
"Want me, girl?" he asked roughly.
Holy fuck. Is it not obvious?
"Yes sir," I whispered, hoarse from the crying out.
"Hmm... what to do with you," he pondered, pulling away a little. In the corner of the couch with my legs splayed open in either direction is certainly not a position that I recall us trying before. I groaned with disappointment when he was not touching me, but then there he was, the head of his cock nudging at my opening. I have no idea what he had to do to get into that position, to get his cock lined up with me just right. It can't have been easy. I used my hand to spread myself open just a little more around him, and he slid all the way in.
"Ohhhhhh," I moaned as he bottomed out, pressing just that little bit more inside me, stretching me out to accommodate him. I love that feeling.
He was thrusting, talking, saying dirty things. My head was tossed back and I was moaning, arching into him, so I have no idea how he was even moving, but it was good. I moved my legs so that one was up higher along the back of the sofa and the other was wrapped around his back, allowing him a better angle and allowing me to rock with him a little more.
"So fucking sexy," he kept saying, each time prompting a loud agreement from me. Fuck yes, this was sexy.
"You know what would be nice?" he asked eventually.
"Uhhh?" I moaned. This was nice. Nice? Hell, what's he talking about?
"If I threw you over the arm of the sofa and fucked you like that."
"Mmmmmmm," I agreed.
He slid into me a few more times, feeling so incredible I didn't want him to ever stop, but then he did, pulling away, standing up.
"Come on, fuck toy," he said. I groaned and did as I was told, bending over the arm of the sofa, standing on my tiptoes on the floor.
"Good girl," he praised me. He is so much taller than me. He grabbed my hips and slid in. Oh, fuck, so good. So hot, bent over the arm of the sofa and fucked. I was screaming, and then he started slapping my ass.
It was too too much. My tiptoes couldn't maintain contact with the floor. I lifted my feet into the air and then his hands were gripping my ankles as he pounded into me - faster, faster, faster.
"Oh my God," I screamed.
"Gonna come in you, bitch," he growled, as he did just that. He kept fucking into me then, as his cock softened. His hand was pulling up on my hair and I was screaming.
I crawled forward onto the sofa, collapsing with my legs still in the air over the arm, and he (rather abruptly) came around and sat down. I put my head in his lap and he rubbed my back while I cleaned his cock with my mouth.
All of that and the man never took off his boxers.
We pulled a blanket over us and lay like that, our fingers entwined, me mostly blissed out, until we felt we should probably wash up and put clothes on before the absent people returned.
What else?
"What you wanna do now?" I asked my husband as the car left the driveway. We were sitting on the sofa. He waggled his eyebrows at me suggestively and I giggled.
His arm was around me and I was kissing his throat, still giggling a little. He tightened his grip and just like that, I was there, his. He shoved my shirt up, shoved my bra out of the way, and his lips were fastened to my nipple - sucking, biting, hurting. I moaned, sliding into the corner of the sofa against the arm, half reclining.
He had my jeans off, and then the layer of long underwear, followed by my panties. "Gonna fuck you, girl," he growled, his hand on my back forcing me to arch my breasts more into his face. His other hand started slapping the breast that he wasn't torturing with his mouth. He was sucking and biting on one side and spanking on the other. I was twisting, but he held me fast.
"Are you for me to fuck?" he asked.
"Yes sir," I moaned.
He shoved my legs apart - one along the sofa's cushions, the other stretched out on the floor, and started spanking my inner thighs, forcing little cries from me with each slap. The Christmas tree twinkled at me.
"Look at you, all naked," he murmured, spanking my spread pussy, making me scream. "Well, mostly." My shirt and bra, pushed up over my breasts, accentuated my nudity rather than helping me feel more covered. I moaned. I felt his hips lift, heard the sofa's springs creak, as he divested himself of his own jeans. His hard cock poked through the slit in his boxers and pressed against my bare leg, the intense heat of it contrasting with the chill of the room that was already trying to settle on my skin.
He was enjoying slapping my sensitive parts far too much. Thigh, pussy, other thigh. I arched into him, and his fingers were gentle, touching my folds but not delving very deep. I groaned.
"Want me, girl?" he asked roughly.
Holy fuck. Is it not obvious?
"Yes sir," I whispered, hoarse from the crying out.
"Hmm... what to do with you," he pondered, pulling away a little. In the corner of the couch with my legs splayed open in either direction is certainly not a position that I recall us trying before. I groaned with disappointment when he was not touching me, but then there he was, the head of his cock nudging at my opening. I have no idea what he had to do to get into that position, to get his cock lined up with me just right. It can't have been easy. I used my hand to spread myself open just a little more around him, and he slid all the way in.
"Ohhhhhh," I moaned as he bottomed out, pressing just that little bit more inside me, stretching me out to accommodate him. I love that feeling.
He was thrusting, talking, saying dirty things. My head was tossed back and I was moaning, arching into him, so I have no idea how he was even moving, but it was good. I moved my legs so that one was up higher along the back of the sofa and the other was wrapped around his back, allowing him a better angle and allowing me to rock with him a little more.
"So fucking sexy," he kept saying, each time prompting a loud agreement from me. Fuck yes, this was sexy.
"You know what would be nice?" he asked eventually.
"Uhhh?" I moaned. This was nice. Nice? Hell, what's he talking about?
"If I threw you over the arm of the sofa and fucked you like that."
"Mmmmmmm," I agreed.
He slid into me a few more times, feeling so incredible I didn't want him to ever stop, but then he did, pulling away, standing up.
"Come on, fuck toy," he said. I groaned and did as I was told, bending over the arm of the sofa, standing on my tiptoes on the floor.
"Good girl," he praised me. He is so much taller than me. He grabbed my hips and slid in. Oh, fuck, so good. So hot, bent over the arm of the sofa and fucked. I was screaming, and then he started slapping my ass.
It was too too much. My tiptoes couldn't maintain contact with the floor. I lifted my feet into the air and then his hands were gripping my ankles as he pounded into me - faster, faster, faster.
"Oh my God," I screamed.
"Gonna come in you, bitch," he growled, as he did just that. He kept fucking into me then, as his cock softened. His hand was pulling up on my hair and I was screaming.
I crawled forward onto the sofa, collapsing with my legs still in the air over the arm, and he (rather abruptly) came around and sat down. I put my head in his lap and he rubbed my back while I cleaned his cock with my mouth.
All of that and the man never took off his boxers.
We pulled a blanket over us and lay like that, our fingers entwined, me mostly blissed out, until we felt we should probably wash up and put clothes on before the absent people returned.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Owned
He joins me in bed, and I immediately put my Kindle away and turn toward him, into his embrace. "No one said you had to put that away," he says, sounding amused as his arms wrap around me, his fingertips tracing goosebumps along my bare skin.
"Mmm, I know what's good for me," I answer softly, kissing his chest, peppering his warm skin with my love.
"I know what's good for me, and it's here in my arms," he says. Smoothness, rolling off his tongue like honey. I purr, and before the sound even finishes coming out of my throat, he's got my nipple between his fingers, pinching it hard. Harder, harder, and I'm squealing because it's an intense pain. The nipple is still sore from what he did to it the night before. He lets it go, briefly, rubs his palm across it and then grabs it between his fingers again, pulling up on it. I scream as quietly as I can manage.
"Mmm, I know what's good for me," I answer softly, kissing his chest, peppering his warm skin with my love.
"I know what's good for me, and it's here in my arms," he says. Smoothness, rolling off his tongue like honey. I purr, and before the sound even finishes coming out of my throat, he's got my nipple between his fingers, pinching it hard. Harder, harder, and I'm squealing because it's an intense pain. The nipple is still sore from what he did to it the night before. He lets it go, briefly, rubs his palm across it and then grabs it between his fingers again, pulling up on it. I scream as quietly as I can manage.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Two for one
"Your nipples are sensitive and need toughening." It started as a joke, we were reading The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty, and that's a line in the novel. His fingers began toying with my nipples as we continued reading our chapters, making me squirm long before we put the book down.
When we did, his fingers began tracing delicate trails all over my back before I could turn over. His beard brushed against my lower back, his hands exploring my ass. "It's been a long time since your body's been properly touched."
He touched my back until I was purring with pleasure, and then he pulled out a wooden ruler and began to spank me with it. "You're getting nice and red back here," he said, and switched implements.
Something unfamiliar, painful, hard but bouncy. "What IS that?" I asked, already a little foggy with desire.
"What is this? Hm. I think it's commonly called a belt. How does it feel?"
"I like it," I gasped out between cries. It hurt, deep, thudding pain with a sting in the head, but it was good, like deep tissue massage. I could not hold still as he applied it to my rear, though. I squirmed and wiggled and lifted my ass and lowered it again - but he kept right on.
He switched implements again - the braided flogger, snapping across my back and across the places on my ass where he'd been belting me. It felt much like the belt, with more texture. I gasped as it landed over my back, raising my ass to provide a better target.
He knocked my knees apart roughly, and started spanking my sensitive inner thighs. I was still on all fours, a new position for this sort of spanking, and I cried out over and over. He wasn't playing around, his hand smacked roughly into my flesh and I gasped and cried out and he mocked me. My pussy was already spread and helpless from the position so when he started spanking it, I was even more sensitive. I squirmed and panted and little screams came out of me. Oh, hell, my clit, the position made my clit more sensitive and more involved in the spanking, oh, hell.
His fingers spread me open, finding my wetness. "Oh, wow. I think someone likes being used, being beaten... being touched. Does this feel good, slut?" he asked, his finger slowly circling my clit.
"Uh-huh," I moaned, squirming.
"I didn't realize we'd moved on to the feeling good portion. I thought we were still in the pain portion," he said, pulling his hand away, looking for something. "Oh, wait, there's no difference, is there?"
"No," I whispered.
"Well, no difference for you.. I suppose if I asked you to pleasure me, you'd know not to hurt me, wouldn't you?"
"Yes sir."
"Good girl. You like everything, don't you my girl? I can think of something else you might like." He reached across me, his arm across my lower back holding me down, and lubricated my ass. He slid the mood naughty plug into me as I writhed. "Take it, girl," he whispered as he pressed it all the way in.
"Turn and face me," he said then.
I did, exclaiming as I rolled toward the lamp. My hair was all over my face at this point, but the light was still bright.
"Is the light too bright for you, fuck toy?"
"Mmhmm," I murmured, trying to duck my head close to his chest.
"But I want to look at you. You don't mind if I look at you, do you, fuck toy?"
"No sir." I shuddered as the words left me.
"But... it might be nice to switch to candlelight," he conceded, and leaned over to light a candle.
When he turned back over, he seized on my breasts and nipples. Breast torture. Oh, the most divine torture ever. His mouth, sucking hard, biting at my nipples in the most exquisite ways, tugging, pulling, squeezing. I swear I could have come from that given enough time. I started humping at him, instinct controlling my movements.
"Do you want me to fuck you while I torture your breasts?"
"Uh-huh.."
"Do you want me to fuck you while you have a plug in your ass while I torture your breasts?"
"Uh huh..."
On top of me. "Oh, my, slut, you're so wet."
"No room," I panted as he nudged his way inside me, the plug in my ass making it harder, making me cry out.
"Oh, there's plenty of room, it just slides right in there..."
He pulled away a little, started moving with short quick strokes just barely into me. I groaned.
"Oh, God, what are you doing?" I begged, arching up, wanting to feel him driving deeply inside.
"You want more cock, girl?"
"Yes," I panted, struggling to lift my hips higher, to take more of him.
"Better beg for it then." He continued fucking just the head of his cock into me.
"Oh, fuck, please, please," I was babbling, no proper method of begging existing in my brain at that moment, "please, want more cock, please, please."
"You want more cock?"
"Yes, please, please."
"Where?"
"In my pussy, please, please!" I was writhing desperately, my hands clutching at his hips, trying to pull him into me.
"Mmm, okay, girl. Have more cock. In your pussy." He drove into me fully then, grinding, my clit throbbing between us as we moved. I gasped.
He grabbed my hair, two big handfuls on each side of my head, and pulled it up diagonally away from my head, effectively holding my head in place in the center. I felt stretched, pinned, helpless.
When he kissed me, his cock still driving, his hands still keeping up the pressure on my hair, I felt like I was flying away - or falling. Or both all at once. I screamed against his mouth, uncontrollably, kissing him back and screaming as I flew and fell and flew.
He was finished, and he rolled off me. His fingers began to pleasure me - inside, against my clit. Orgasm.
Again.
Again.
"Oh, wow, you are completely out of control, aren't you? You just keep coming.. I don't think you could stop if you tried."
Again.
Again.
Screaming, writhing under his touch, wanting it to end and wanting it to never, ever end, the waves of pleasure that kept crashing over me taking my breath away and leaving me wanting more, more, more.
He rolled atop me, and I gasped with surprise as his cock plunged inside me again. "Oh my God..."
His kisses sent me spiraling again, as he took his pleasure with me a second time. "You don't mind if I fuck you some more now, do you?" he asked roughly, as if I had a choice in the matter. I quivered internally at the entire situation.
He took his time this time too, extracting the maximum amount of pleasure for both of us.
We lay exhausted afterward, his body wrapped around me in my husband-cage, holding me tightly to him. "You belong to me," he said softly, a touch of wonder mingled with the matter-of-factness of his tone.
"I know," I murmured happily, settling as closely in to him as I could before we fell asleep.
When we did, his fingers began tracing delicate trails all over my back before I could turn over. His beard brushed against my lower back, his hands exploring my ass. "It's been a long time since your body's been properly touched."
He touched my back until I was purring with pleasure, and then he pulled out a wooden ruler and began to spank me with it. "You're getting nice and red back here," he said, and switched implements.
Something unfamiliar, painful, hard but bouncy. "What IS that?" I asked, already a little foggy with desire.
"What is this? Hm. I think it's commonly called a belt. How does it feel?"
"I like it," I gasped out between cries. It hurt, deep, thudding pain with a sting in the head, but it was good, like deep tissue massage. I could not hold still as he applied it to my rear, though. I squirmed and wiggled and lifted my ass and lowered it again - but he kept right on.
He switched implements again - the braided flogger, snapping across my back and across the places on my ass where he'd been belting me. It felt much like the belt, with more texture. I gasped as it landed over my back, raising my ass to provide a better target.
He knocked my knees apart roughly, and started spanking my sensitive inner thighs. I was still on all fours, a new position for this sort of spanking, and I cried out over and over. He wasn't playing around, his hand smacked roughly into my flesh and I gasped and cried out and he mocked me. My pussy was already spread and helpless from the position so when he started spanking it, I was even more sensitive. I squirmed and panted and little screams came out of me. Oh, hell, my clit, the position made my clit more sensitive and more involved in the spanking, oh, hell.
His fingers spread me open, finding my wetness. "Oh, wow. I think someone likes being used, being beaten... being touched. Does this feel good, slut?" he asked, his finger slowly circling my clit.
"Uh-huh," I moaned, squirming.
"I didn't realize we'd moved on to the feeling good portion. I thought we were still in the pain portion," he said, pulling his hand away, looking for something. "Oh, wait, there's no difference, is there?"
"No," I whispered.
"Well, no difference for you.. I suppose if I asked you to pleasure me, you'd know not to hurt me, wouldn't you?"
"Yes sir."
"Good girl. You like everything, don't you my girl? I can think of something else you might like." He reached across me, his arm across my lower back holding me down, and lubricated my ass. He slid the mood naughty plug into me as I writhed. "Take it, girl," he whispered as he pressed it all the way in.
"Turn and face me," he said then.
I did, exclaiming as I rolled toward the lamp. My hair was all over my face at this point, but the light was still bright.
"Is the light too bright for you, fuck toy?"
"Mmhmm," I murmured, trying to duck my head close to his chest.
"But I want to look at you. You don't mind if I look at you, do you, fuck toy?"
"No sir." I shuddered as the words left me.
"But... it might be nice to switch to candlelight," he conceded, and leaned over to light a candle.
When he turned back over, he seized on my breasts and nipples. Breast torture. Oh, the most divine torture ever. His mouth, sucking hard, biting at my nipples in the most exquisite ways, tugging, pulling, squeezing. I swear I could have come from that given enough time. I started humping at him, instinct controlling my movements.
"Do you want me to fuck you while I torture your breasts?"
"Uh-huh.."
"Do you want me to fuck you while you have a plug in your ass while I torture your breasts?"
"Uh huh..."
On top of me. "Oh, my, slut, you're so wet."
"No room," I panted as he nudged his way inside me, the plug in my ass making it harder, making me cry out.
"Oh, there's plenty of room, it just slides right in there..."
He pulled away a little, started moving with short quick strokes just barely into me. I groaned.
"Oh, God, what are you doing?" I begged, arching up, wanting to feel him driving deeply inside.
"You want more cock, girl?"
"Yes," I panted, struggling to lift my hips higher, to take more of him.
"Better beg for it then." He continued fucking just the head of his cock into me.
"Oh, fuck, please, please," I was babbling, no proper method of begging existing in my brain at that moment, "please, want more cock, please, please."
"You want more cock?"
"Yes, please, please."
"Where?"
"In my pussy, please, please!" I was writhing desperately, my hands clutching at his hips, trying to pull him into me.
"Mmm, okay, girl. Have more cock. In your pussy." He drove into me fully then, grinding, my clit throbbing between us as we moved. I gasped.
He grabbed my hair, two big handfuls on each side of my head, and pulled it up diagonally away from my head, effectively holding my head in place in the center. I felt stretched, pinned, helpless.
When he kissed me, his cock still driving, his hands still keeping up the pressure on my hair, I felt like I was flying away - or falling. Or both all at once. I screamed against his mouth, uncontrollably, kissing him back and screaming as I flew and fell and flew.
He was finished, and he rolled off me. His fingers began to pleasure me - inside, against my clit. Orgasm.
Again.
Again.
"Oh, wow, you are completely out of control, aren't you? You just keep coming.. I don't think you could stop if you tried."
Again.
Again.
Screaming, writhing under his touch, wanting it to end and wanting it to never, ever end, the waves of pleasure that kept crashing over me taking my breath away and leaving me wanting more, more, more.
He rolled atop me, and I gasped with surprise as his cock plunged inside me again. "Oh my God..."
His kisses sent me spiraling again, as he took his pleasure with me a second time. "You don't mind if I fuck you some more now, do you?" he asked roughly, as if I had a choice in the matter. I quivered internally at the entire situation.
He took his time this time too, extracting the maximum amount of pleasure for both of us.
We lay exhausted afterward, his body wrapped around me in my husband-cage, holding me tightly to him. "You belong to me," he said softly, a touch of wonder mingled with the matter-of-factness of his tone.
"I know," I murmured happily, settling as closely in to him as I could before we fell asleep.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Say thank you
12:45 AM. What the hell? How? A chat with a good friend, a project to complete, lots of wonderful emails to respond to, and a bath. That's how. Time just flies away when you're mixing work and pleasure so very thoroughly.
Climbing into bed with my husband, I was a little put-out. Just a little. He'd coaxed me out of bed in the late morning with an implication we would go back to bed in the afternoon, and it hadn't happened. "In the interest of open communication," I told him as I cleaned up the bathroom vanity and then climbed in next to him, "when you coax a girl out of bed with promises of going to bed later, not going to bed later is going to lead to a discontented girl."
I wouldn't have even been put out if it was earlier, and of course the lateness of the hour was not entirely his fault, although he did nothing to stop my mad typing in the late evening. He is meant to be the one making the command decisions.
He drew me close to him, spooning me with his arm draped around me, and I started playing a game on my Kindle Fire. No tech in the bedroom has been suffering due to my cold - so I just started playing. Fruit Ninja. I assumed he would go to sleep. He didn't. His hand started to slowly, slowly squeeze a nipple until I was gasping in pain, and then he moved to the other one.
"What are you doing?" I squeaked, as he squeezed it hard and moved back to the first one.
"Playing with you," he said blithely, alternating slow painful squeezes with hard, sharp, twisting ones as he moved between my nipples. I was still trying to play. "I bet it makes it hard to slice fruit," he observed as I gasped. Eventually I let the Kindle drop to the bed and I gave myself to the sensations he was causing. God, I love when he hurts my nipples. I raised my arm over my head to provide better targets, breathing through it as he slowly, slowly, slowly squeezed. Through pleasure and into pain that was just a more intense pleasure and I was panting. I could feel myself getting wet just from this.
His hand moved and he slapped my ass, hard. Oh, that's been a while. Pain, spanking, oh, fuck, yes. Who cares how late it is? I rolled over enough to offer my ass up for more, and he gave it. He was landing hard smacks that resonated deep into my being, making me groan because they were so delicious and shook my very bones. "Good girl," he said, and tugged on my shoulder to pull me back onto my side, so he could access my nipples again. He alternated between smacking my ass and slowly pinching my nipple then, until I was groaning near-constantly, my breath coming in short sharp pants.
He pulled me onto my back and then he was smacking me right on my nipples, back and forth between them. "Oh my God," I cried out, far too loudly, arching up into his smacks. Oh, so good. So fucking good.
He yanked my legs apart and then he was smacking me on my inner thighs.
It's been weeks since I've been hit anywhere but on the nipples, and I was super-sensitive to it all, the thighs most of all. I cried out. "Oh my God, that hurts, that hurts, it's sensitive," I panted as I struggled to keep my legs open.
"Is my girl sensitive?" he asked mockingly, knowing that I was, not caring, knowing that it turned me on like a faucet. "Does it hurt when I hit you here?" he asked, slapping my right inner thigh several times.
"God, yes," I squealed.
"And here?" he switched to the other leg, slapping even harder.
"Oh, fuck, yes, hurts," I begged.
"And here?" he asked, centering the blows, right on my pussy. He wasn't slapping nearly as hard, but was doing it faster.
"No no no no no," I panted with each fast strike, and with each "no," he increased the force behind the next blow.
"No no no no no," I said, and then he hit the pain point and it did hurt. "Yes yes yes," I was squealing, squirming, as he continued his rapid-fire assault on my genitals.
When he stopped, his fingers gently explored and found me soaking wet. "Ooooooooooh, what have we here?" he asked, his finger slipping inside and making me groan. "Does the fuck toy like to be played with? Does the fuck toy like to be used?"
"Yes sir," I whispered, arching into his touch.
"Good girl," he said. "Let's see what else you might like."
He climbed up over me, pulled off his shirt in front of me, and put his cock in front of my face, just out of reach of my mouth. I was panting. I am still stuffy and can't breathe well, so most of my breathing is through my mouth, but this was beyond just mouth-breathing. He was straddling my body, so I couldn't bend at the waist to lift up and take his cock in my mouth.
He rubbed it against my cheek, over my open lips. I licked it as it passed, groaning.
"You like that cock?" he asked roughly, already knowing the answer.
I moaned in response, lifting my head as best I could to lick it. He rubbed it against my other cheek, and humped against my face as if he was fucking it, just not quite letting his cock in my mouth. I groaned, and then he was pushing into my mouth, pressing his cock in as I moaned, pushing it in as far as he dared considering my sore throat. He pulled away for me to cough and breathe, and then he pushed in again, fucking my face slowly until I had to breathe, then giving me a moment for air again.
I can't quite put into words how hot it was for me that he was fucking my access to air, and he knew it.
He pressed in so deeply he was almost in my throat, pinning my head to the pillow, and I couldn't breathe. I could feel myself becoming wetter and wetter, and then he pulled away for me to cough, to haul in lungfuls of air.
"Poor fuck toy. You like sucking cock?"
I nodded desperately, as he rubbed his saliva-slick cock against my cheek while I panted for air.
"It's one of your favorite things, isn't it?" he said, shoving his cock back into my mouth.
I sucked, nodding slightly.
"I know. One day, you'll be able to have your face fucked without needing to cough, without needing to breathe. Won't that be nice?"
"Uh-huh," I grunted, as he pulled his cock away again for me to breathe.
He slid down my body then, and unceremoniously started to sink his hardness into my soaking wet pussy. I grunted as the head penetrated me - it felt enormous and I made a lot of noise.
"Good girl, take it, take me," he said, slowly, slowly pressing more into me. Slowly. So fucking slowly. I was writhing beneath him as he made his way into my body, making a lot of noise. He felt so incredible, stretching my internal walls apart, all the way down, and then he kept driving all the way through me, as if I wasn't there, pinning me thoroughly with his cock. I moved under him, squeezing my muscles around his hardness, relishing the feeling of being full of him. It was good. He pulled away slightly only to drive just as hard back down again, and then he was fucking me in earnest, pausing periodically to pin me down with both his cock and his gaze.
"Good fuck hole." My shuddery moan must have prodded him to keep talking, because he continued in the same vein. "This is what you're for, isn't it? For me to shove my cock into over, and over, and over." He accentuated each "over" with a hard thrust into my body that I gladly met, moaning with pleasure.
"Uh-huh," I agreed, out of my mind as we moved together.
"I give it to you and you just say 'thank you,' isn't that right, fuck toy?"
"Uh-huh," I agreed again, not processing what he was doing, the pleasure nerves that kept firing interfering with my normal brain function.
He drove into me, leaned his face down. One of my ears is dead right now, his lips were near my good ear. "Say thank you," he ordered roughly, his voice rasping along my ear canal all the way into my brain.
"Thank you," I whispered, breathless, and then, as if his command and the following words had unleashed some floodgate holding back my voice, I continued as we fucked. "Thank you, thank you, oh my God, thank you," I babbled, unable to hold it back.
"Good girl," he praised me through my babbling. "Are you thankful for my cock, fuck toy?" He drove it inside me and flexed for emphasis.
"Yes sir, ohmyGod, thank you." I was overwhelmed. I kept periodically babbling "Thank you, thank you," when he felt particularly amazing, his body moving against me. His hands grabbed my legs, pulled them up higher as he fucked down into me, and my eyes were rolling, open, closed, open. They caught his gaze once.
"That's right, fuck hole, look at me," he said. I did, as long as I could.
"Oh my God," I murmured, as his eyes burned heat into my soul and I couldn't stand it anymore - the pleasure was too great and my head rolled back, tossing as he kept fucking me. My hands roamed his back, pulling his hips into me hard when he allowed it. Sometimes he pulled away, lifting himself higher to slam into me with more force, but mostly he let me pull him close, our bodies merged and moving together.
His climax approached slowly, intensely. He was groaning for long moments as he came, as the pleasure washed over him. I glanced up at his face - if there ever was an image of bliss, it was his face at that moment.
Before he slid his fingers inside me and made me scream with pleasure over and over, as we lay tangled together, he whispered, breathlessly, "You forgive me for this afternoon?"
I laughed, loudly.
"No, that's not what this was about," he assured me, as he let his fingers take over the pleasure they had initiated so long ago.
Climbing into bed with my husband, I was a little put-out. Just a little. He'd coaxed me out of bed in the late morning with an implication we would go back to bed in the afternoon, and it hadn't happened. "In the interest of open communication," I told him as I cleaned up the bathroom vanity and then climbed in next to him, "when you coax a girl out of bed with promises of going to bed later, not going to bed later is going to lead to a discontented girl."
I wouldn't have even been put out if it was earlier, and of course the lateness of the hour was not entirely his fault, although he did nothing to stop my mad typing in the late evening. He is meant to be the one making the command decisions.
He drew me close to him, spooning me with his arm draped around me, and I started playing a game on my Kindle Fire. No tech in the bedroom has been suffering due to my cold - so I just started playing. Fruit Ninja. I assumed he would go to sleep. He didn't. His hand started to slowly, slowly squeeze a nipple until I was gasping in pain, and then he moved to the other one.
"What are you doing?" I squeaked, as he squeezed it hard and moved back to the first one.
"Playing with you," he said blithely, alternating slow painful squeezes with hard, sharp, twisting ones as he moved between my nipples. I was still trying to play. "I bet it makes it hard to slice fruit," he observed as I gasped. Eventually I let the Kindle drop to the bed and I gave myself to the sensations he was causing. God, I love when he hurts my nipples. I raised my arm over my head to provide better targets, breathing through it as he slowly, slowly, slowly squeezed. Through pleasure and into pain that was just a more intense pleasure and I was panting. I could feel myself getting wet just from this.
His hand moved and he slapped my ass, hard. Oh, that's been a while. Pain, spanking, oh, fuck, yes. Who cares how late it is? I rolled over enough to offer my ass up for more, and he gave it. He was landing hard smacks that resonated deep into my being, making me groan because they were so delicious and shook my very bones. "Good girl," he said, and tugged on my shoulder to pull me back onto my side, so he could access my nipples again. He alternated between smacking my ass and slowly pinching my nipple then, until I was groaning near-constantly, my breath coming in short sharp pants.
He pulled me onto my back and then he was smacking me right on my nipples, back and forth between them. "Oh my God," I cried out, far too loudly, arching up into his smacks. Oh, so good. So fucking good.
He yanked my legs apart and then he was smacking me on my inner thighs.
It's been weeks since I've been hit anywhere but on the nipples, and I was super-sensitive to it all, the thighs most of all. I cried out. "Oh my God, that hurts, that hurts, it's sensitive," I panted as I struggled to keep my legs open.
"Is my girl sensitive?" he asked mockingly, knowing that I was, not caring, knowing that it turned me on like a faucet. "Does it hurt when I hit you here?" he asked, slapping my right inner thigh several times.
"God, yes," I squealed.
"And here?" he switched to the other leg, slapping even harder.
"Oh, fuck, yes, hurts," I begged.
"And here?" he asked, centering the blows, right on my pussy. He wasn't slapping nearly as hard, but was doing it faster.
"No no no no no," I panted with each fast strike, and with each "no," he increased the force behind the next blow.
"No no no no no," I said, and then he hit the pain point and it did hurt. "Yes yes yes," I was squealing, squirming, as he continued his rapid-fire assault on my genitals.
When he stopped, his fingers gently explored and found me soaking wet. "Ooooooooooh, what have we here?" he asked, his finger slipping inside and making me groan. "Does the fuck toy like to be played with? Does the fuck toy like to be used?"
"Yes sir," I whispered, arching into his touch.
"Good girl," he said. "Let's see what else you might like."
He climbed up over me, pulled off his shirt in front of me, and put his cock in front of my face, just out of reach of my mouth. I was panting. I am still stuffy and can't breathe well, so most of my breathing is through my mouth, but this was beyond just mouth-breathing. He was straddling my body, so I couldn't bend at the waist to lift up and take his cock in my mouth.
He rubbed it against my cheek, over my open lips. I licked it as it passed, groaning.
"You like that cock?" he asked roughly, already knowing the answer.
I moaned in response, lifting my head as best I could to lick it. He rubbed it against my other cheek, and humped against my face as if he was fucking it, just not quite letting his cock in my mouth. I groaned, and then he was pushing into my mouth, pressing his cock in as I moaned, pushing it in as far as he dared considering my sore throat. He pulled away for me to cough and breathe, and then he pushed in again, fucking my face slowly until I had to breathe, then giving me a moment for air again.
I can't quite put into words how hot it was for me that he was fucking my access to air, and he knew it.
He pressed in so deeply he was almost in my throat, pinning my head to the pillow, and I couldn't breathe. I could feel myself becoming wetter and wetter, and then he pulled away for me to cough, to haul in lungfuls of air.
"Poor fuck toy. You like sucking cock?"
I nodded desperately, as he rubbed his saliva-slick cock against my cheek while I panted for air.
"It's one of your favorite things, isn't it?" he said, shoving his cock back into my mouth.
I sucked, nodding slightly.
"I know. One day, you'll be able to have your face fucked without needing to cough, without needing to breathe. Won't that be nice?"
"Uh-huh," I grunted, as he pulled his cock away again for me to breathe.
He slid down my body then, and unceremoniously started to sink his hardness into my soaking wet pussy. I grunted as the head penetrated me - it felt enormous and I made a lot of noise.
"Good girl, take it, take me," he said, slowly, slowly pressing more into me. Slowly. So fucking slowly. I was writhing beneath him as he made his way into my body, making a lot of noise. He felt so incredible, stretching my internal walls apart, all the way down, and then he kept driving all the way through me, as if I wasn't there, pinning me thoroughly with his cock. I moved under him, squeezing my muscles around his hardness, relishing the feeling of being full of him. It was good. He pulled away slightly only to drive just as hard back down again, and then he was fucking me in earnest, pausing periodically to pin me down with both his cock and his gaze.
"Good fuck hole." My shuddery moan must have prodded him to keep talking, because he continued in the same vein. "This is what you're for, isn't it? For me to shove my cock into over, and over, and over." He accentuated each "over" with a hard thrust into my body that I gladly met, moaning with pleasure.
"Uh-huh," I agreed, out of my mind as we moved together.
"I give it to you and you just say 'thank you,' isn't that right, fuck toy?"
"Uh-huh," I agreed again, not processing what he was doing, the pleasure nerves that kept firing interfering with my normal brain function.
He drove into me, leaned his face down. One of my ears is dead right now, his lips were near my good ear. "Say thank you," he ordered roughly, his voice rasping along my ear canal all the way into my brain.
"Thank you," I whispered, breathless, and then, as if his command and the following words had unleashed some floodgate holding back my voice, I continued as we fucked. "Thank you, thank you, oh my God, thank you," I babbled, unable to hold it back.
"Good girl," he praised me through my babbling. "Are you thankful for my cock, fuck toy?" He drove it inside me and flexed for emphasis.
"Yes sir, ohmyGod, thank you." I was overwhelmed. I kept periodically babbling "Thank you, thank you," when he felt particularly amazing, his body moving against me. His hands grabbed my legs, pulled them up higher as he fucked down into me, and my eyes were rolling, open, closed, open. They caught his gaze once.
"That's right, fuck hole, look at me," he said. I did, as long as I could.
"Oh my God," I murmured, as his eyes burned heat into my soul and I couldn't stand it anymore - the pleasure was too great and my head rolled back, tossing as he kept fucking me. My hands roamed his back, pulling his hips into me hard when he allowed it. Sometimes he pulled away, lifting himself higher to slam into me with more force, but mostly he let me pull him close, our bodies merged and moving together.
His climax approached slowly, intensely. He was groaning for long moments as he came, as the pleasure washed over him. I glanced up at his face - if there ever was an image of bliss, it was his face at that moment.
Before he slid his fingers inside me and made me scream with pleasure over and over, as we lay tangled together, he whispered, breathlessly, "You forgive me for this afternoon?"
I laughed, loudly.
"No, that's not what this was about," he assured me, as he let his fingers take over the pleasure they had initiated so long ago.
"Sometimes I just ignore these things and pretend they don't exist.
Unless we have special Thanksgiving-themed sex or something. Which would be hilarious
and I'm about to burst into laughter thinking about it."
Turns out, it's not so funny. It's actually insanely hot.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
When I quit
I went to bed alone, fairly early, feeling sad, forlorn, and exhausted. My hands hurt; I think I have arthritis in them. There's hardly any time any more for us to just be the two of us, and I'm feeling it. Add to that the cold sore that's kept us from kissing for nearly a week, and I have not been a happy camper. So while my husband worked at the kitchen table I took my netbook to bed - against our long-standing mutual rule, no non-book tech in the bedroom.
From there, I sent him a message via Google talk: "I think you should know that I quit."
Soon thereafter, he joined me because he'd noticed I posted something on facebook. "What you doing with your computer on the bed, girl?" he asked me. He hadn't gotten the message.
"I sent you a message," I said, as I continued what I'd been doing.
He took out his phone and checked his Google messages. "Um, you quit what? Quit me?"
I shook my head, put my netbook away, and started playing a game on my Kindle Fire, sitting on the edge of the bed. We made fun of the game, laughed a bit. My husband went to brush his teeth.
When he returned, his entire demeanor had changed. "Why don't you put the game away?" he whispered in my ear.
"Whyyyy?" I groaned. So not in the mood for this. Not in the mood for him to do things he doesn't want to do to cure the mood I am in. Not in the mood to be that person who requires attention. Not in the mood to be soft, compliant, willing.
"So I can play with you," he answered simply. "You can be the game instead of the player." As much as I wanted to push him away, those words still sank into me, started eating away at my reserve. If it is a game, he plays it too well.
"No," I said firmly, turning the game off, putting the Kindle away, and settling back into his arms. No reason to push the issue. I figured if I did as he said perhaps we'd get away without the theatrics.
"'No?' There's just one problem with that, isn't there? I think you know what the problem is," he whispered in my ear, his voice sending shivers all over me despite my best intentions.
"I don't know," I whispered. My entire body was thrilling to his words, even as my head balked. Traitorous body. One day it will do what I tell it. That won't necessarily be a good day.
"You don't get to say no, my girl."
I sighed softly, resigning myself to whatever was about to happen. Perhaps if I feigned indifference long enough he'd give up and go away. (aside: WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, GIRL? Do you hear this man?)
"You seem to think that I'm not interested in you. You're wrong." He had pulled me onto my back, shoved my nightie up over my breasts. He slapped my nipple, hard.
I gasped, bit my lip. "Am I?"
"You are." He slapped my nipples back and forth, alternating, causing me to twist and buck. I sighed loudly, obviously. He ignored me. He shoved my legs open and began slapping my inner thighs, hard. Okay, so there would be no feigning indifference. I was gasping. It hurt. My knees kept coming up, together, and he kept shoving them apart again with a casual flick of his arm, continuing to slap. So much ownership is expressed in that casual flick, like my legs closing was no more troublesome to him than a fly buzzing near his head.
"Does it hurt?" he asked, since I was making a lot of noise indicating such. "What are you going to do? Close your legs? Is that going to stop me? Open them. Keep them open until I say otherwise." Oh, my God. Oh, God. I do so love it when he tells me what to do. It hurt so badly, but I was so turned on by the entire situation, by his words, and my legs lay as if bound. My muscles tried to resist but I forced them to stay down, open, as he continued to rain blows on my already sore thighs.
"Good girl," he said as he finally finished, his fingers trailing lightly over my reddened skin making me squeal with the pain. "Sensitive girl," he observed, and grabbed a flogger from the small pile on the corner of the bed. He trailed the ends over my thighs, letting the knots drag harshly against my skin. I squealed again, twisting slightly but still keeping my legs open. He lightly slapped the ends against my thighs, but that didn't hurt as much as the knots dragging there.
"Huh," he said, surprised. "It almost seems like this" and he dragged the knots against my thigh again, making me squeal, "is more painful than this." He lightly slapped the soft ends against me.
"It is," I whispered, my throat already dry from crying out and open-mouthed panting.
"That's interesting," he said, trailing the flogger ends up my body, letting the knots drag the soft ends behind them, creating shivers of anticipation the whole way. He brushed the ends across my face, and then he tapped them lightly against my face, but it was clearly not just a brushing, not just an application of the sensual possibilities the soft ends bring. He was slapping my face with the ends of the flogger - silky though they are, it made an impression. I felt myself get wetter as I moaned with each soft swoosh against my face.
"How does it feel to be my plaything?" he asked, dragging the flogger down again, between my still-open legs, and lightly flogging my pussy with the ends, much the same way he'd just done to my face.
"Helpless," I responded between soft moans, arching up.
"You like that, huh?" he asked. Talking about the flogging. Yes, I like the flogging. I like the helpless feeling too.
He rested the flogger handle on my shoulder, the falls draping next to my head.
His fingers found my core, my clit. I gasped and arched into his touch. "Oh, God," I whispered. The man works magic with his fingers.
He was on top of me. What? When did that happen?
He lifted the flogger from my shoulder, dragged it over a little. Oh my God, he was pressing the flogger against my throat. First the handle, then the rope, pressing against my throat, draping over it and then the pressure, his hands on either side pushing. I gasped. A little tiny scream emerged from me, all that my limited voice channel would allow.
"Mine," he whispered, looking down at me. "You want me to fuck you, don't you? You need fucking." He rocked his cock against my thigh.
"Yes, yes, yes," I panted, rising up to meet him.
He pressed his cock against me, pressing my folds open. He nudged just the head inside me and I groaned as he rocked barely into me. "But what if I don't?" He pulled away completely, leaving me empty, rubbing his cock against me again, pressing it into my thigh.
I whined.
"Ah, you'll whine. Like a puppy. Or like a bitch in heat." He continued teasing me with his body, rubbing into me. "Whine for me, bitch."
I did. I couldn't have stopped if I'd wanted to. I whined and I got wetter and wetter as I did what he told me.
"Good girl. You'll get the cock back, I'll fuck you," he whispered, slowly nudging his way back inside me.
I rose up, but he didn't let me engulf him. "Sweet little bitch," he murmured, sinking all the way into me at his own pace, as I kept whimpering, trying desperately to take more of him. "There you go, there's your cock. How's that cock feel?"
"Oh, God," I moaned, rolling my hips into him, squeezing tightly around him. It felt good. No, better than that. Fucking amazing. Words. What are words again? I moaned louder.
He moved inside me, his hand wandering over my body, pinching my nipple, then pressing against my face, pushing my head into the mattress by my face. A deep, guttural noise came from me, lower than a scream but just as long. "Oh God, oh my God," I chanted, my words distorted by his hand pressing the side of my mouth out of shape.
"Mine," he said, calmly, clearly, as he kept pressing into my face, his hips pressing mine down as well. Resting on his elbow, he locked his other hand behind my head, taking a fistful of my hair and pulling it hard, my head trapped between the force of his hand in my hair and his other hand on my face. I screamed as he moved, his body surging into me relentlessly, his fingers regularly tightening in my hair.
He let go, balanced on his hands, looking down at me, driving into me slowly. "My girl likes a nice slow fuck, doesn't she?"
"Fuck, yes," I whispered. I lifted my legs up, bending my knees, opening myself to him even more. I grabbed my feet and pulled up, pressing my knees into his sides. I was rewarded with a deep groan from him.
"Ohhh this is my fuck hole, isn't it?" he asked, his eyes boring down into me.
"I am yours," I answered, moaning constantly. My legs began to ache after a while and I lowered them, driving my heels into the mattress to lift my body up to his - higher, higher, and he was surging into me deliberately, emptying himself into my body and moaning loudly, his pleasure quite obvious. I squeezed him against me. He rolled off me.
"Can I close my legs now?" I asked softly, meekly.
"You may close your legs," he agreed. I did and rolled onto my side, facing away from him. He snaked his hand around my waist and pulled me tight to him, then slipped his hand between my legs from behind, sliding his thumb easily into my pussy.
"Ohhh," I groaned, surprised. His fingers began slowly stroking my clit, and I rolled more onto my stomach, letting him have his way with me as I lifted my hips in the air.
"My puppet. My sweet little fuck puppet," he whispered into my ear, driving his thumb deeper into me, making my body move to his command. I whimpered.
"Oh, you like being my fuck puppet, don't you?" He twisted his hand for emphasis.
"Yes sir," I moaned, my hips dancing with his motions.
"Mmmmm," he said, the simple vibrations in my ear making me shiver. I was quickly approaching orgasm and his words were only driving me faster.
"Come for me, girl," he whispered in my ear. I did. I screamed, kicking, pulling away from him, my leg vibrating as I came for him.
"Good girl," he said, not stopping his movements, his voice continuing to say sexy things in my ear, my body dancing on the end of his hand like the puppet he'd decided I was. "Good girl comes when she's told, and all I have to do is say, 'come for me,' isn't that right? Come for me," he whispered roughly in my ear, triggering another orgasm, more screams, more kicking.
He didn't stop. He kept going. I was a mass of nerve endings, a screaming, writhing mass of open emotions and sensitivities and he just kept touching me there, in that spot that made it all so fucking good, his thumb buried inside me giving me a sense of fullness that made it all that much better.
"Girl likes orgasms," he noted, his detachment somehow making my state of completely helpless arousal all the more arousing.
"I can't.. I can't," I begged, too sensitive, too many orgasms having taken their toll. Wait, did I say too many orgasms? No such thing.
"Yes you can. You know you can. Don't lie to me, fuckhole."
My head took over from there.
Don't lie to him, fuckhole.
Don't lie to him, fuckhole.
Don't lie to him, fuckhole.
I came, screaming, the most powerful one yet shaking my body, my legs going completely out of my control. My head was pounding with the force of the blood rushing through it. "Oh my God," I whispered shakily as I came down from it. As a credit to his empathic abilities, he did stop then, pulling me close to him and rubbing my body, kissing my neck, whispering words of love and praise. He's pretty awesome at aftercare. Hell, he's pretty awesome at most things.
"I love you," he said softly into my ear, as we were falling asleep. "Don't quit me."
For the record, I would never, ever quit him. We go together.
So I am not allowed to quit - at least not without discussion and a valid reason beyond "I think you're not into me."
And me? I am okay with that. Better than okay. Thrilled. I may have started all this, but it is not okay for me to end it.
From there, I sent him a message via Google talk: "I think you should know that I quit."
Soon thereafter, he joined me because he'd noticed I posted something on facebook. "What you doing with your computer on the bed, girl?" he asked me. He hadn't gotten the message.
"I sent you a message," I said, as I continued what I'd been doing.
He took out his phone and checked his Google messages. "Um, you quit what? Quit me?"
I shook my head, put my netbook away, and started playing a game on my Kindle Fire, sitting on the edge of the bed. We made fun of the game, laughed a bit. My husband went to brush his teeth.
When he returned, his entire demeanor had changed. "Why don't you put the game away?" he whispered in my ear.
"Whyyyy?" I groaned. So not in the mood for this. Not in the mood for him to do things he doesn't want to do to cure the mood I am in. Not in the mood to be that person who requires attention. Not in the mood to be soft, compliant, willing.
"So I can play with you," he answered simply. "You can be the game instead of the player." As much as I wanted to push him away, those words still sank into me, started eating away at my reserve. If it is a game, he plays it too well.
"No," I said firmly, turning the game off, putting the Kindle away, and settling back into his arms. No reason to push the issue. I figured if I did as he said perhaps we'd get away without the theatrics.
"'No?' There's just one problem with that, isn't there? I think you know what the problem is," he whispered in my ear, his voice sending shivers all over me despite my best intentions.
"I don't know," I whispered. My entire body was thrilling to his words, even as my head balked. Traitorous body. One day it will do what I tell it. That won't necessarily be a good day.
"You don't get to say no, my girl."
I sighed softly, resigning myself to whatever was about to happen. Perhaps if I feigned indifference long enough he'd give up and go away. (aside: WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, GIRL? Do you hear this man?)
"You seem to think that I'm not interested in you. You're wrong." He had pulled me onto my back, shoved my nightie up over my breasts. He slapped my nipple, hard.
I gasped, bit my lip. "Am I?"
"You are." He slapped my nipples back and forth, alternating, causing me to twist and buck. I sighed loudly, obviously. He ignored me. He shoved my legs open and began slapping my inner thighs, hard. Okay, so there would be no feigning indifference. I was gasping. It hurt. My knees kept coming up, together, and he kept shoving them apart again with a casual flick of his arm, continuing to slap. So much ownership is expressed in that casual flick, like my legs closing was no more troublesome to him than a fly buzzing near his head.
"Does it hurt?" he asked, since I was making a lot of noise indicating such. "What are you going to do? Close your legs? Is that going to stop me? Open them. Keep them open until I say otherwise." Oh, my God. Oh, God. I do so love it when he tells me what to do. It hurt so badly, but I was so turned on by the entire situation, by his words, and my legs lay as if bound. My muscles tried to resist but I forced them to stay down, open, as he continued to rain blows on my already sore thighs.
"Good girl," he said as he finally finished, his fingers trailing lightly over my reddened skin making me squeal with the pain. "Sensitive girl," he observed, and grabbed a flogger from the small pile on the corner of the bed. He trailed the ends over my thighs, letting the knots drag harshly against my skin. I squealed again, twisting slightly but still keeping my legs open. He lightly slapped the ends against my thighs, but that didn't hurt as much as the knots dragging there.
"Huh," he said, surprised. "It almost seems like this" and he dragged the knots against my thigh again, making me squeal, "is more painful than this." He lightly slapped the soft ends against me.
"It is," I whispered, my throat already dry from crying out and open-mouthed panting.
"That's interesting," he said, trailing the flogger ends up my body, letting the knots drag the soft ends behind them, creating shivers of anticipation the whole way. He brushed the ends across my face, and then he tapped them lightly against my face, but it was clearly not just a brushing, not just an application of the sensual possibilities the soft ends bring. He was slapping my face with the ends of the flogger - silky though they are, it made an impression. I felt myself get wetter as I moaned with each soft swoosh against my face.
"How does it feel to be my plaything?" he asked, dragging the flogger down again, between my still-open legs, and lightly flogging my pussy with the ends, much the same way he'd just done to my face.
"Helpless," I responded between soft moans, arching up.
"You like that, huh?" he asked. Talking about the flogging. Yes, I like the flogging. I like the helpless feeling too.
He rested the flogger handle on my shoulder, the falls draping next to my head.
His fingers found my core, my clit. I gasped and arched into his touch. "Oh, God," I whispered. The man works magic with his fingers.
He was on top of me. What? When did that happen?
He lifted the flogger from my shoulder, dragged it over a little. Oh my God, he was pressing the flogger against my throat. First the handle, then the rope, pressing against my throat, draping over it and then the pressure, his hands on either side pushing. I gasped. A little tiny scream emerged from me, all that my limited voice channel would allow.
"Mine," he whispered, looking down at me. "You want me to fuck you, don't you? You need fucking." He rocked his cock against my thigh.
"Yes, yes, yes," I panted, rising up to meet him.
He pressed his cock against me, pressing my folds open. He nudged just the head inside me and I groaned as he rocked barely into me. "But what if I don't?" He pulled away completely, leaving me empty, rubbing his cock against me again, pressing it into my thigh.
I whined.
"Ah, you'll whine. Like a puppy. Or like a bitch in heat." He continued teasing me with his body, rubbing into me. "Whine for me, bitch."
I did. I couldn't have stopped if I'd wanted to. I whined and I got wetter and wetter as I did what he told me.
"Good girl. You'll get the cock back, I'll fuck you," he whispered, slowly nudging his way back inside me.
I rose up, but he didn't let me engulf him. "Sweet little bitch," he murmured, sinking all the way into me at his own pace, as I kept whimpering, trying desperately to take more of him. "There you go, there's your cock. How's that cock feel?"
"Oh, God," I moaned, rolling my hips into him, squeezing tightly around him. It felt good. No, better than that. Fucking amazing. Words. What are words again? I moaned louder.
He moved inside me, his hand wandering over my body, pinching my nipple, then pressing against my face, pushing my head into the mattress by my face. A deep, guttural noise came from me, lower than a scream but just as long. "Oh God, oh my God," I chanted, my words distorted by his hand pressing the side of my mouth out of shape.
"Mine," he said, calmly, clearly, as he kept pressing into my face, his hips pressing mine down as well. Resting on his elbow, he locked his other hand behind my head, taking a fistful of my hair and pulling it hard, my head trapped between the force of his hand in my hair and his other hand on my face. I screamed as he moved, his body surging into me relentlessly, his fingers regularly tightening in my hair.
He let go, balanced on his hands, looking down at me, driving into me slowly. "My girl likes a nice slow fuck, doesn't she?"
"Fuck, yes," I whispered. I lifted my legs up, bending my knees, opening myself to him even more. I grabbed my feet and pulled up, pressing my knees into his sides. I was rewarded with a deep groan from him.
"Ohhh this is my fuck hole, isn't it?" he asked, his eyes boring down into me.
"I am yours," I answered, moaning constantly. My legs began to ache after a while and I lowered them, driving my heels into the mattress to lift my body up to his - higher, higher, and he was surging into me deliberately, emptying himself into my body and moaning loudly, his pleasure quite obvious. I squeezed him against me. He rolled off me.
"Can I close my legs now?" I asked softly, meekly.
"You may close your legs," he agreed. I did and rolled onto my side, facing away from him. He snaked his hand around my waist and pulled me tight to him, then slipped his hand between my legs from behind, sliding his thumb easily into my pussy.
"Ohhh," I groaned, surprised. His fingers began slowly stroking my clit, and I rolled more onto my stomach, letting him have his way with me as I lifted my hips in the air.
"My puppet. My sweet little fuck puppet," he whispered into my ear, driving his thumb deeper into me, making my body move to his command. I whimpered.
"Oh, you like being my fuck puppet, don't you?" He twisted his hand for emphasis.
"Yes sir," I moaned, my hips dancing with his motions.
"Mmmmm," he said, the simple vibrations in my ear making me shiver. I was quickly approaching orgasm and his words were only driving me faster.
"Come for me, girl," he whispered in my ear. I did. I screamed, kicking, pulling away from him, my leg vibrating as I came for him.
"Good girl," he said, not stopping his movements, his voice continuing to say sexy things in my ear, my body dancing on the end of his hand like the puppet he'd decided I was. "Good girl comes when she's told, and all I have to do is say, 'come for me,' isn't that right? Come for me," he whispered roughly in my ear, triggering another orgasm, more screams, more kicking.
He didn't stop. He kept going. I was a mass of nerve endings, a screaming, writhing mass of open emotions and sensitivities and he just kept touching me there, in that spot that made it all so fucking good, his thumb buried inside me giving me a sense of fullness that made it all that much better.
"Girl likes orgasms," he noted, his detachment somehow making my state of completely helpless arousal all the more arousing.
"I can't.. I can't," I begged, too sensitive, too many orgasms having taken their toll. Wait, did I say too many orgasms? No such thing.
"Yes you can. You know you can. Don't lie to me, fuckhole."
My head took over from there.
Don't lie to him, fuckhole.
Don't lie to him, fuckhole.
Don't lie to him, fuckhole.
I came, screaming, the most powerful one yet shaking my body, my legs going completely out of my control. My head was pounding with the force of the blood rushing through it. "Oh my God," I whispered shakily as I came down from it. As a credit to his empathic abilities, he did stop then, pulling me close to him and rubbing my body, kissing my neck, whispering words of love and praise. He's pretty awesome at aftercare. Hell, he's pretty awesome at most things.
"I love you," he said softly into my ear, as we were falling asleep. "Don't quit me."
For the record, I would never, ever quit him. We go together.
So I am not allowed to quit - at least not without discussion and a valid reason beyond "I think you're not into me."
And me? I am okay with that. Better than okay. Thrilled. I may have started all this, but it is not okay for me to end it.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Control is a many-splendored thing
"Maybe you should do something violent to me," I suggested to my husband. I was tired, had been wanting to go back to bed ever since our little one woke us up far, far too early on a holiday morning. But we were in bed early and I didn't want my exhaustion to overtake me.
"Really?"
"Really." Nothing to keep a girl awake like having some consensual violence visited upon her person.
"I haven't done that in a while..."
"I know."
His hands that had previously been stroking me gently and running the silky tails of our blue flogger against my skin became weapons, targeting my breasts, my nipples. "MINE!" he barked as I whimpered, twisting beneath the blows and then arching up for more, "I will do whatever the hell I want to you!"
He rolled more toward me as I twisted away from him, my brain becoming more aroused with every crash of his hand into my sensitive breasts, my body trying to escape the onslaught of pain. His leg was on top of mine, his cock pressing into my hip. His hand wandered down, slapping into my thighs, pulling them apart forcibly when they tried to close against the pain, holding them open to hit me. I cried out especially loudly when he slapped my calf. "Oh, does that hurt, girl?"
"Yes sir," I whimpered between cries. I was crying out with every blow, and he was slowly humping my hip, making me feel his arousal.
"Good. You know what I think?" he asked, his hands never stopping their attack on my body, my calves, my thighs, my breasts, my forearms. "I think that you like attention of any kind. Pain's just another kind of attention for you, isn't it?"
"Yes sir," I panted.
"'Yes sir,'" he repeated, still slowly humping my hip. "Oooh, you feel my cock? That cock wants to fuck you. I want to fuck you. You know what that means? It means I will fuck you. I will do whatever the fuck I want." His hand came up between my spread legs and he slapped my pussy lightly, over and over until I was gasping. "You like that kind of attention too, don't you? Does this turn you on?" He stopped slapping me, his fingers gently probing the extra-sensitized flesh, sliding the tip of his finger easily into my wetness.
"Yeah, I see it does," he said, sliding his fingers against me, stroking my clit gently until I gasped with pleasure. He started slapping me again, unexpectedly. Oh, it hurt. I twisted to get away but his leg had mine trapped. Spread, helpless, owned. "Mine," he confirmed my thoughts as he continued slapping my sex. "Turn on your side so I can fuck you."
I was breathing heavily as I turned over, facing away from him. I lifted my leg over his hip, opening myself to him. He rocked his cock against my wetness, back and forth, teasing the head across my opening, bumping into my clit repeatedly. It felt lovely but I wanted him inside me. "Oh my God," I moaned.
"What is it, girl? You want something?"
"Yes sir."
"What is it you want?"
"Fuck me..." I breathed out, the words barely escaping my tightening throat.
He teased me a while longer, clearly enjoying my whimpered noises of frustration. The head of his cock lodged inside my opening, and I groaned, rotating my hips, pressing back onto him. He wasn't moving at all; I wasn't sure if he meant to tease me or meant for me to do something, so I did something. I wriggled, I squirmed, I backed onto his cock that felt fucking enormous, and groaned and sighed and whispered "oh, fuck," as I did it.
"Good girl, go on, take that cock," he said as I backed onto him, finally, finally managing to squeeze all of him into me.
"Can I help you?" he asked as I squeezed around him, relishing the fullness. He just stayed there, buried fully in me, letting me squeeze around him over and over. My answers were my continual moans of enjoyment.
"I see, you didn't want to be fucked, you just wanted a hard cock shoved up your pussy. There is a difference, you know," he murmured, his hand grabbing a handful of my hair and tugging, shoving himself extra hard into me.
I squirmed, but without his equal and opposite motions from the other side, the position we were in was no good for me to fuck him, just to wriggle insanely on his cock, like a specimen pinned for examination, legs spread, breasts exposed. His fingers stroked my clit. I was getting more and more aroused by my own inability to do anything.
"Are you trying to fuck me?" I just squirmed, my arousal growing more with his words, hearing the slight condescending tone he delicately applied to them. Oh, God, he's good at this. "Let me see if I can help you," he said, and moved his hips back, withdrawing slightly and then thrusting fully into me. I screamed with pleasure, with the release of the built-up tension. Oh, that was one fine-feeling thrust. He rocked his hips slowly, drawing the pleasure out for both of us. His hand gripped my throat, and then it was pressing on my face. I screamed. I love having my face covered, especially if it's by his hand. My breathing was slightly restricted, my pants becoming gasps, and I loved it, loved feeling his hand smashing out the very thing that people identify as "me," so that I was nothing but his. Oh, fuck, yes.
"Good fuck hole," he whispered, at the perfect moment to make me scream again, around the side of his hand. My racing thoughts of self-eradication collided with his words and a glorious brain-explosion occurred inside my head.
"You are my good fuck hole," he confirmed as my scream faded. His fingers slid inside me alongside his cock, stretching me.
"Oh, God, full," I whispered, as he thrust his cock into me, holding his fingers still, for an eternity of pleasure, riding the edge of pain.
"I like to fill up my slut," he agreed, moving faster. I could feel his fingers and his cock stretching me, rubbing ever so delicately against my anus the way my legs were spread for him. Oh, I needed to be fucked there.
"I want you in my ass," I ventured, softly.
"You want to feel this hard cock fucking your ass?" he asked, driving the point home as he thrust into my soaking pussy.
"Yessss," I hissed, pressing against him, taking him as deeply as I could.
"What a fucking slut," he spat out.
"Oh, oh, oh," I panted. "I'm your slut."
"You are my good slut," he said as he pulled his hand away, reaching behind us for the lube. He kept thrusting into me while he retrieved it, and when he pulled away I whimpered with the emptiness.
"It's okay, slut, I'm going to fuck you more." His words were interrupted by the squeeze of a nearly-empty tube of lube, a singularly unsexy sound. I forgot about it as he applied the lube to me, and then pressed the slippery, rounded head of his cock to my hole. He pressed; bounced off. I groaned, reaching back to hold his cock, to angle my hips and press against him just so.
"Take it, that's it, good girl," he whispered. I groaned loudly, rocking my hips against him in an echo of our earlier penetration. Oh it was even more intense, though. I rocked my hips, and slowly, slowly, my ass opened to him, taking him inside. I relaxed briefly once he was all the way in, and he started moving, gently at first. His hand moved to my open pussy. "So fucking wet," he said, sinking fingers into my pussy, his thumb working at my clit as he thrust into me.
I was stretched between his cock and his fingers, my legs wide open, my body at his mercy.
"So full of you," I whispered between groans and sighs of pleasure.
"You are my collection of fuck holes, aren't you?" he asked sharply, his fingers twisting.
I screamed.
His hand started slapping my pussy while he moved in my ass. I'm sure it made it a more exciting fuck, as I squirmed, wriggled, and screamed. Already so sensitive, so full of blood, and he was slapping me there. "Oh oh, I'm a good slut," I begged softly as he continued hitting me.
His fingers were back inside me when he came, pressing his cock deeply into me and spilling his seed into my bowels, moaning deeply with satisfaction. I do so love hearing him sound so pleased, but I didn't have very long to relish it.
He kept working on my clit, kept thrusting into my ass, his other hand grabbing a handful of my hair. I began to convulse upward, my head raising up, my knees lifting. He tightened his grip on my hair, forcing my head to stay down, forcing the intensity to stay in my body rather than to release through the convulsion. "You're not going anywhere, slut. You'll stay right here and take it."
I did. Every time my head tried to rise, he yanked it back down by my hair. I trembled with unreleased tension. I screamed. I came, a great, shuddery wave of orgasm crashing over me, brought on almost exclusively by the violent control he was exerting. Well, and the fingers. Of course the magic fingers.
My breast hurt all day today. Somehow, I'm okay with that.
I know there's a challenge on, and that I'm somewhat of a CWS slacker... and a blog slacker! I had to get this post written, which means very few other things got to happen online. I SIMPLY HAD TO WRITE THIS. Sorry, y'all.
And further. My husband says he is in the process of writing out a post about the filthy sex talking. Just for you guys.
"Really?"
"Really." Nothing to keep a girl awake like having some consensual violence visited upon her person.
"I haven't done that in a while..."
"I know."
His hands that had previously been stroking me gently and running the silky tails of our blue flogger against my skin became weapons, targeting my breasts, my nipples. "MINE!" he barked as I whimpered, twisting beneath the blows and then arching up for more, "I will do whatever the hell I want to you!"
He rolled more toward me as I twisted away from him, my brain becoming more aroused with every crash of his hand into my sensitive breasts, my body trying to escape the onslaught of pain. His leg was on top of mine, his cock pressing into my hip. His hand wandered down, slapping into my thighs, pulling them apart forcibly when they tried to close against the pain, holding them open to hit me. I cried out especially loudly when he slapped my calf. "Oh, does that hurt, girl?"
"Yes sir," I whimpered between cries. I was crying out with every blow, and he was slowly humping my hip, making me feel his arousal.
"Good. You know what I think?" he asked, his hands never stopping their attack on my body, my calves, my thighs, my breasts, my forearms. "I think that you like attention of any kind. Pain's just another kind of attention for you, isn't it?"
"Yes sir," I panted.
"'Yes sir,'" he repeated, still slowly humping my hip. "Oooh, you feel my cock? That cock wants to fuck you. I want to fuck you. You know what that means? It means I will fuck you. I will do whatever the fuck I want." His hand came up between my spread legs and he slapped my pussy lightly, over and over until I was gasping. "You like that kind of attention too, don't you? Does this turn you on?" He stopped slapping me, his fingers gently probing the extra-sensitized flesh, sliding the tip of his finger easily into my wetness.
"Yeah, I see it does," he said, sliding his fingers against me, stroking my clit gently until I gasped with pleasure. He started slapping me again, unexpectedly. Oh, it hurt. I twisted to get away but his leg had mine trapped. Spread, helpless, owned. "Mine," he confirmed my thoughts as he continued slapping my sex. "Turn on your side so I can fuck you."
I was breathing heavily as I turned over, facing away from him. I lifted my leg over his hip, opening myself to him. He rocked his cock against my wetness, back and forth, teasing the head across my opening, bumping into my clit repeatedly. It felt lovely but I wanted him inside me. "Oh my God," I moaned.
"What is it, girl? You want something?"
"Yes sir."
"What is it you want?"
"Fuck me..." I breathed out, the words barely escaping my tightening throat.
He teased me a while longer, clearly enjoying my whimpered noises of frustration. The head of his cock lodged inside my opening, and I groaned, rotating my hips, pressing back onto him. He wasn't moving at all; I wasn't sure if he meant to tease me or meant for me to do something, so I did something. I wriggled, I squirmed, I backed onto his cock that felt fucking enormous, and groaned and sighed and whispered "oh, fuck," as I did it.
"Good girl, go on, take that cock," he said as I backed onto him, finally, finally managing to squeeze all of him into me.
"Can I help you?" he asked as I squeezed around him, relishing the fullness. He just stayed there, buried fully in me, letting me squeeze around him over and over. My answers were my continual moans of enjoyment.
"I see, you didn't want to be fucked, you just wanted a hard cock shoved up your pussy. There is a difference, you know," he murmured, his hand grabbing a handful of my hair and tugging, shoving himself extra hard into me.
I squirmed, but without his equal and opposite motions from the other side, the position we were in was no good for me to fuck him, just to wriggle insanely on his cock, like a specimen pinned for examination, legs spread, breasts exposed. His fingers stroked my clit. I was getting more and more aroused by my own inability to do anything.
"Are you trying to fuck me?" I just squirmed, my arousal growing more with his words, hearing the slight condescending tone he delicately applied to them. Oh, God, he's good at this. "Let me see if I can help you," he said, and moved his hips back, withdrawing slightly and then thrusting fully into me. I screamed with pleasure, with the release of the built-up tension. Oh, that was one fine-feeling thrust. He rocked his hips slowly, drawing the pleasure out for both of us. His hand gripped my throat, and then it was pressing on my face. I screamed. I love having my face covered, especially if it's by his hand. My breathing was slightly restricted, my pants becoming gasps, and I loved it, loved feeling his hand smashing out the very thing that people identify as "me," so that I was nothing but his. Oh, fuck, yes.
"Good fuck hole," he whispered, at the perfect moment to make me scream again, around the side of his hand. My racing thoughts of self-eradication collided with his words and a glorious brain-explosion occurred inside my head.
"You are my good fuck hole," he confirmed as my scream faded. His fingers slid inside me alongside his cock, stretching me.
"Oh, God, full," I whispered, as he thrust his cock into me, holding his fingers still, for an eternity of pleasure, riding the edge of pain.
"I like to fill up my slut," he agreed, moving faster. I could feel his fingers and his cock stretching me, rubbing ever so delicately against my anus the way my legs were spread for him. Oh, I needed to be fucked there.
"I want you in my ass," I ventured, softly.
"You want to feel this hard cock fucking your ass?" he asked, driving the point home as he thrust into my soaking pussy.
"Yessss," I hissed, pressing against him, taking him as deeply as I could.
"What a fucking slut," he spat out.
"Oh, oh, oh," I panted. "I'm your slut."
"You are my good slut," he said as he pulled his hand away, reaching behind us for the lube. He kept thrusting into me while he retrieved it, and when he pulled away I whimpered with the emptiness.
"It's okay, slut, I'm going to fuck you more." His words were interrupted by the squeeze of a nearly-empty tube of lube, a singularly unsexy sound. I forgot about it as he applied the lube to me, and then pressed the slippery, rounded head of his cock to my hole. He pressed; bounced off. I groaned, reaching back to hold his cock, to angle my hips and press against him just so.
"Take it, that's it, good girl," he whispered. I groaned loudly, rocking my hips against him in an echo of our earlier penetration. Oh it was even more intense, though. I rocked my hips, and slowly, slowly, my ass opened to him, taking him inside. I relaxed briefly once he was all the way in, and he started moving, gently at first. His hand moved to my open pussy. "So fucking wet," he said, sinking fingers into my pussy, his thumb working at my clit as he thrust into me.
I was stretched between his cock and his fingers, my legs wide open, my body at his mercy.
"So full of you," I whispered between groans and sighs of pleasure.
"You are my collection of fuck holes, aren't you?" he asked sharply, his fingers twisting.
I screamed.
His hand started slapping my pussy while he moved in my ass. I'm sure it made it a more exciting fuck, as I squirmed, wriggled, and screamed. Already so sensitive, so full of blood, and he was slapping me there. "Oh oh, I'm a good slut," I begged softly as he continued hitting me.
His fingers were back inside me when he came, pressing his cock deeply into me and spilling his seed into my bowels, moaning deeply with satisfaction. I do so love hearing him sound so pleased, but I didn't have very long to relish it.
He kept working on my clit, kept thrusting into my ass, his other hand grabbing a handful of my hair. I began to convulse upward, my head raising up, my knees lifting. He tightened his grip on my hair, forcing my head to stay down, forcing the intensity to stay in my body rather than to release through the convulsion. "You're not going anywhere, slut. You'll stay right here and take it."
I did. Every time my head tried to rise, he yanked it back down by my hair. I trembled with unreleased tension. I screamed. I came, a great, shuddery wave of orgasm crashing over me, brought on almost exclusively by the violent control he was exerting. Well, and the fingers. Of course the magic fingers.
My breast hurt all day today. Somehow, I'm okay with that.
I know there's a challenge on, and that I'm somewhat of a CWS slacker... and a blog slacker! I had to get this post written, which means very few other things got to happen online. I SIMPLY HAD TO WRITE THIS. Sorry, y'all.
And further. My husband says he is in the process of writing out a post about the filthy sex talking. Just for you guys.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Finally flogged
I posted my blue and white flogger a while ago, the one that I gifted to my husband. It was only this week that we finally got around to more than a perfunctory test flogging with it. In fact, someone else bought, received, and used one just like it before we ever got around to using ours. But it was worth the wait.
I loved it. The knots were perfect, thudding into my flesh, bouncing away. The ends were silky soft; he even used it as a tickler to make me moan with pleasure. He worked my ass and the backs of my thighs to a rosy glow that I could feel, and then he applied the spoon deliciously, making me squirm, writhe, generally having an awesome time while little gasps and moans emerged from my mouth.
He followed the spoon with the crop, tap-tap-tapping little bites all over, and it was just a fabulous spanking. I was panting when he finished, trailing the ends of the flogger over my sensitive skin. While what he said next was a little bit of a surprise, it shouldn't have been. "Turn over and suck my cock. You're not the only one who likes to feel good, you know."
I drew a ragged breath, pulling oxygen into my lungs, gathering the physical strength to turn over. After the flogging, the spoon, and the crop, I needed a moment to collect myself. I turned over slowly, moving down as I did, and his cock was in my face. I opened my mouth and pressed a hot, wet kiss to it, relishing the velvety feel of his foreskin against my face. Oh, right, I love sucking his cock. I moaned softly as I slid my mouth onto him, and my brain disengaged. Just sucking, listening to his words, rolling my tongue, working my throat.
In my excitement I kept tugging on his hips, drawing him as far into me as I could, and one of the tugs had him over my face, kneeling above me and fucking down into my mouth. "What a good fuckhole your face is for me," he said, tugging on my hair, his hands pressing down on my forehead, leaving me unable to do anything but take his hardness. I moaned at the helplessness of the position, at his words, my hands flopping uselessly off to the side, unsure what to do with themselves until they landed on his thighs. I squeezed his legs as he fucked my face.
"Is your pussy ready to be fucked?" he asked me roughly, the head of his cock moving slowly in the entrance of my throat, soft gagging noises coming from me due to the motion. I managed to turn one of the noises into a fervent positive.
"You think you can get on the ramp and be fucked?"
"Nnnnn," I said around the cock filling my mouth. Late, tired, ugh.
"Of course you can," he answered for me, ignoring my actual response. He pulled away and I chased his cock with my mouth. "Cockslut, it's really hard for you to let go of that cock, isn't it?" I groaned, pinned by his words, letting my head fall back again. He stood next to the bed, put the Liberator ramp on it, and I went after his shiny hard cock with my mouth again, moaning happily as this position put more of his cock in me with less stress. He pulled my hair, fucking my face, eliciting squeals of delight that vibrated all along the length of his hardness. "You think you're clever, don't you? This isn't your pussy."
He pulled me into him, forcing more and more of his cock into my willing throat. It burned as it opened my throat even more than it had previously. "Turn around and let me fuck your pussy now," he ordered, thrusting into my face a few final times.
I turned around slowly, my muscles resisting as I lifted my ass, presenting my pussy for his penetration. He sank inside me with a long, slow stroke and we groaned in unison. "Oh, fuck, yes," I gasped as he filled me, stretching me open.
Pleasure. Pure pleasure, enhanced by the slight amount of pain being stretched so far, pounded so hard, overtook me, and I was a constant moan, "Oh fuck," escaping from me with every other breath.
His hands found their way underneath my torso and he slapped my breasts, first one then the other. "Mine!" he said when I moaned with delighted pain, perhaps a touch of indignity coloring my tone.
"Yours," I agreed, whether loudly or softly I had no way of gauging. My arms gave out after an extended period, and I dropped to my elbows, my ass still lifted high for his cock to slide into my pussy.
"Oooh, I should fuck this ass," he mused, running his thumb across my hole that must have been exposed due to the position I was in. I groaned, both excited and a little concerned by the prospect. "Shouldn't I? You want that don't you? Of course you do," he answered his own question as I continued groaning, overwhelmed. "Get me the lube."
I moved to do so, but as I moved the ramp tried to fall over. "Nuh-uh," I murmured, trying to adjust myself so the ramp stayed on the bed. "What you mean, nuh-uh? Get the lube!" he repeated himself. I did, returning, still dealing with the problem and making muttery noises. "Too much complaining!"
"This is falling," I whispered.
"Fix it, then," he said, squeezing lube onto his fingers. I planted my feet on the floor, pressing my ass into his cock as I wriggled to move the ramp back into place. He humped against me, making me moan. His fingers were lubing my ass even as I climbed back up into the hands-and-knees position.
As his cock penetrated my ass, I fell forward, crying out. It wasn't even an overwhelming sensation, just my own fear that it would be. "Get up," he barked, and something else I couldn't hear for my breathing was heavy, catching in my chest and coming out in gasps, I was so terribly excited that I could only hear half the things he was saying.
Then he was buried in my ass, pulling my hair back toward him with one hand, his other hand pressing and squeezing my throat, making me gasp with arousal. Oh, wow. "Oh, fuck," I kept keening softly as we rocked together, my ass stretched taut around his cock that was so engorged I hadn't been able to believe it when I was sucking it.
He came loudly, nearly collapsing against my back, pulling me up into him. I breathed heavily, great gasps of air filling my lungs. Eventually we managed to shove the ramp away and curl up into each other, whispering words of appreciation for one another.
He is magnificent, even though I lack the time to write about it all the time, and I am so grateful.
I loved it. The knots were perfect, thudding into my flesh, bouncing away. The ends were silky soft; he even used it as a tickler to make me moan with pleasure. He worked my ass and the backs of my thighs to a rosy glow that I could feel, and then he applied the spoon deliciously, making me squirm, writhe, generally having an awesome time while little gasps and moans emerged from my mouth.
He followed the spoon with the crop, tap-tap-tapping little bites all over, and it was just a fabulous spanking. I was panting when he finished, trailing the ends of the flogger over my sensitive skin. While what he said next was a little bit of a surprise, it shouldn't have been. "Turn over and suck my cock. You're not the only one who likes to feel good, you know."
I drew a ragged breath, pulling oxygen into my lungs, gathering the physical strength to turn over. After the flogging, the spoon, and the crop, I needed a moment to collect myself. I turned over slowly, moving down as I did, and his cock was in my face. I opened my mouth and pressed a hot, wet kiss to it, relishing the velvety feel of his foreskin against my face. Oh, right, I love sucking his cock. I moaned softly as I slid my mouth onto him, and my brain disengaged. Just sucking, listening to his words, rolling my tongue, working my throat.
In my excitement I kept tugging on his hips, drawing him as far into me as I could, and one of the tugs had him over my face, kneeling above me and fucking down into my mouth. "What a good fuckhole your face is for me," he said, tugging on my hair, his hands pressing down on my forehead, leaving me unable to do anything but take his hardness. I moaned at the helplessness of the position, at his words, my hands flopping uselessly off to the side, unsure what to do with themselves until they landed on his thighs. I squeezed his legs as he fucked my face.
"Is your pussy ready to be fucked?" he asked me roughly, the head of his cock moving slowly in the entrance of my throat, soft gagging noises coming from me due to the motion. I managed to turn one of the noises into a fervent positive.
"You think you can get on the ramp and be fucked?"
"Nnnnn," I said around the cock filling my mouth. Late, tired, ugh.
"Of course you can," he answered for me, ignoring my actual response. He pulled away and I chased his cock with my mouth. "Cockslut, it's really hard for you to let go of that cock, isn't it?" I groaned, pinned by his words, letting my head fall back again. He stood next to the bed, put the Liberator ramp on it, and I went after his shiny hard cock with my mouth again, moaning happily as this position put more of his cock in me with less stress. He pulled my hair, fucking my face, eliciting squeals of delight that vibrated all along the length of his hardness. "You think you're clever, don't you? This isn't your pussy."
He pulled me into him, forcing more and more of his cock into my willing throat. It burned as it opened my throat even more than it had previously. "Turn around and let me fuck your pussy now," he ordered, thrusting into my face a few final times.
I turned around slowly, my muscles resisting as I lifted my ass, presenting my pussy for his penetration. He sank inside me with a long, slow stroke and we groaned in unison. "Oh, fuck, yes," I gasped as he filled me, stretching me open.
Pleasure. Pure pleasure, enhanced by the slight amount of pain being stretched so far, pounded so hard, overtook me, and I was a constant moan, "Oh fuck," escaping from me with every other breath.
His hands found their way underneath my torso and he slapped my breasts, first one then the other. "Mine!" he said when I moaned with delighted pain, perhaps a touch of indignity coloring my tone.
"Yours," I agreed, whether loudly or softly I had no way of gauging. My arms gave out after an extended period, and I dropped to my elbows, my ass still lifted high for his cock to slide into my pussy.
"Oooh, I should fuck this ass," he mused, running his thumb across my hole that must have been exposed due to the position I was in. I groaned, both excited and a little concerned by the prospect. "Shouldn't I? You want that don't you? Of course you do," he answered his own question as I continued groaning, overwhelmed. "Get me the lube."
I moved to do so, but as I moved the ramp tried to fall over. "Nuh-uh," I murmured, trying to adjust myself so the ramp stayed on the bed. "What you mean, nuh-uh? Get the lube!" he repeated himself. I did, returning, still dealing with the problem and making muttery noises. "Too much complaining!"
"This is falling," I whispered.
"Fix it, then," he said, squeezing lube onto his fingers. I planted my feet on the floor, pressing my ass into his cock as I wriggled to move the ramp back into place. He humped against me, making me moan. His fingers were lubing my ass even as I climbed back up into the hands-and-knees position.
As his cock penetrated my ass, I fell forward, crying out. It wasn't even an overwhelming sensation, just my own fear that it would be. "Get up," he barked, and something else I couldn't hear for my breathing was heavy, catching in my chest and coming out in gasps, I was so terribly excited that I could only hear half the things he was saying.
Then he was buried in my ass, pulling my hair back toward him with one hand, his other hand pressing and squeezing my throat, making me gasp with arousal. Oh, wow. "Oh, fuck," I kept keening softly as we rocked together, my ass stretched taut around his cock that was so engorged I hadn't been able to believe it when I was sucking it.
He came loudly, nearly collapsing against my back, pulling me up into him. I breathed heavily, great gasps of air filling my lungs. Eventually we managed to shove the ramp away and curl up into each other, whispering words of appreciation for one another.
He is magnificent, even though I lack the time to write about it all the time, and I am so grateful.
Friday, August 24, 2012
How I fell in love with the wooden spoon
Yeah, you read that right.
I was grouchy. We're tired a lot, having a hard time adapting to shifting schedules, and I was in my submissive shutdown mode. My husband was waiting in bed and I was reading some random blog by someone I don't even know.
"Come to bed, my girl," he told me, standing naked, or nearly so, in the bedroom's door frame.
I waited a few minutes and then I did. I like obeying even when I don't think anything will come of it, even when my internal voice is telling me this is all stupid, that this game we play is clearly ridiculous and why are we even doing this? It's quite conflicted, living inside my head.
He grabbed me as I came into bed, pulling me against him. "Mine!" he said, not even letting me adjust my position. He held me against his chest and we talked, our voices low in the night.
Eventually he told me to turn over onto my belly, and he rubbed my back, adding a good scratch at my request. God, I love for him to scratch my back. I swear it's like magic. After all these years he knows exactly how much pressure to apply to make me groan with the release of perfectly scratched back skin.
"Give me your wrists," he said, tugging my hands behind my head. I bent my elbows and put my wrists together behind my neck. He slid the soft cuffs onto me, clicking them together and holding my hands in place. I moaned softly as I felt it, my submissive nature fully freed as soon as my movement was genuinely restricted.
"Whose are you?" he asked, close to my head.
"Yours," I whispered into the pillow.
"Whose?" he asked again, perhaps not having heard me, perhaps just to drive the point home.
"Yours," I said again, a little louder.
"And do you like to be mine?"
"Mmhmm!" I responded.
"Are you sure about that?"
"Yes!" I am definitely sure about that.
"You wouldn't prefer to just be my equal?"
"Noooo," I said.
"You like being my plaything? You like pleasing me? You like me using you?" His hands wandered over my back, my ass, my legs as he spoke.
"Yes," I answered softly to each question.
"Anything else? Or have I about covered it?"
"I think you got it."
I felt the soft tickler brush over my back, down my ass. "I like making you feel good," he said as I sighed softly with the gentle caress. The next thing he stroked me with was the smooth edge of our wooden spoon. I inhaled sharply, fear overtaking me. Oh, he can make that hurt so badly. He didn't, though, just tapped lightly with it, my fear releasing with each gentle tap against my skin.
He built it up slowly, covering my ass with little taps, then again with slightly heavier ones, and again, each time increasing the strength of his swing. It felt incredible and it went on for what seemed like forever.
I was moaning deeply, screaming with pleasure, lifting my ass up to meet the spoon.
"Oh, my girl likes that," he noted aloud, with a detached-sounding sort of interest. "Maybe I should stop." He did, briefly, not spanking me anymore.
"Oh, no," I pleaded.
"What's that, my girl? What do you want me to do?"
I was silent while I processed his question. "Spank me?"
"You want me to spank you with this wooden spoon?"
"Oh, yes."
"Okay then." He started again and it was brilliant. I raised up so high that he had easy access to the backs of my thighs, and he hit those too. I was soaring, each strike seeming to hit some sort of sweet spot inside me that released groan after groan of deep pleasure and fulfillment. I have never imagined I could feel so good from having that spoon applied to any part of me.
His hand followed the spoon and I was squirming, doing my best to get away, my backside unbelievably tenderized from the application of the spoon. "Mine, mine, mine!" he said with each impact of his hand on my rosy flesh. I lifted my ass even higher in the air, his chant of ownership flooding me with pleasure and the desire to please, and his hand was wrapping around and slapping my pussy at the same time. Oh, fuck, yes.
Several times during the entire spanking process I thought I might orgasm just from the feelings crashing over me. I was very, very vocal in my appreciation.
He stopped, pulling me over onto my side against him. "I'm going to fuck you," he announced into my ear, pulling my legs apart and sliding his fingers between them. I shivered as his voice traveled into my brain, the vibrations along my ear canal making me sigh with pleasure, the sound of his words striking glee into my heart.
But then his hand was moving, slapping my nipple. "Oh!" I cried out, surprised, arching my breast into his hands. He rained blows onto my nipples then, making me scream for what seemed an eternity. Oh, God. I writhed against him, feeling his hard cock pressing against my sensitized ass, thankfully unable to escape the blows as I backed into his body. He was spanking me deeper and deeper against him.
"I'm going to fuck you," he repeated softly. He pulled my legs open again, and then he was spanking my thighs. His fingers slid inside me easily. "Oh, my girl gets so wet from having her nipples slapped," he said into my ear. I shivered. I do. I can't help it. He pressed his cock against my pussy, rocking his hips.
"Oh, please fuck me," I broke down, begging.
"You want this cock?" he asked. He fisted his cock, sliding just the head inside me, his hand stopping more from going inside. I squirmed against him, trying to take more.
"Easy, girl," he whispered, his voice rough with passion. I tried to lunge back onto him, but his hand was in the way. "You'll get as much cock as I want you to have," he said roughly, his other hand squeezing my shoulder. I stilled, trembling, wanting to feel him buried all the way inside me, to feel his body pressed completely against mine. God. He is such a fucking tease.
I made a whiny noise. "Good girl," he said, pressing a little deeper into me. My pussy squeezed his cock in welcome and I tilted my hips, rocking just so slightly back onto him. He took the invitation and sank all the way in. I think we both groaned.
He started rocking with me, his hand returning to slapping my nipples as we moved. Oh, I was done for, and then his other hand was grabbing handfuls of my hair and squeezing, holding, then releasing and moving to a new handful, his voice ever present in my ear, telling me I was a good fuck hole, that I belonged to him, calling me a good girl, making me scream, groan, twist. Oh. Oh, yes. I couldn't have asked for a better fuck, and I had been a grouchy annoyance. Oh, hell, does he ever know how to set me straight. Or kinky.
And now I can't wait until he uses that fucking spoon again.
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