Spin the slave girl: a fantasy

I have a very very good imagination.

Once in a while my husband will use that to his extreme advantage by crafting a fantasy directly into my ear while he manipulates my body. Bondage, discipline, even fucking, can come from his lips into my ear without him actually putting forth more effort than coming up with the idea.

He spoons me, and his lips are right against my ear, his arms around me as he begins to speak.

"You'd like a cage, wouldn't you. And I could just hang you from it. Tie your wrists to your ankles, spread your legs wide, and hang you up, just to beat you, or to fuck you wherever I want. Just to keep you right here and fuck you. I could spin you around to decide where to fuck, oooh I should fuck your pretty face right now," he whispers, his hands roaming my body as they like. In point of fact I have a cold sore right now, but my imagination doesn't worry about that as he describes his cock filling my face, my throat. I moan deeply and his fingers find my clit as he keeps talking about using my face to fuck. He strokes it lightly, expertly, driving my desire for him to a fever pitch as he keeps talking, his sexy fucking voice playing right inside my brain, turning me into a puddle of need.

"I could get your ass all nice and slippery, slide my fingers in there, then shove a huge plug into you. Then when I fuck your pussy, there won't be much room. But I'd make room. You're mine and I'd shove my cock into you because it feels so fucking good inside you. 'Too big,' you'll say, 'oh, master, it's too big for me,' but I won't fucking care and I will make you take it all and there is nothing you can do about it."

I just keep moaning. My brain has completely accepted that my face is currently full of cock, despite the fact that it is not.

"Mmm. It's so good inside your throat," he murmurs, "and I know that once your face realizes what it's really for, it hates to stop. All your holes are like that, aren't they? Once they realize they're fuck holes again they hate to give it up. Your sweet mouth doesn't want me to stop fucking it, does it? But I should just spin you again and see what else to fuck. Face hole, pussy hole, ass hole. . . face hole, pussy hole, ass hole." And inside my head, it's exactly as if he has done just that. I am a collection of holes, spinning slowly, suspended from a cage while he decides where he wants to put his cock next. I barely stifle my screams of gratification at being so objectified.

"Mmm, I guess I'll fuck your pussy," he murmurs, sliding his actual cock into me from behind as I make loud grunting noises, his words causing minor spasms over my entire body. I am a slippery wet mess by this point, his words and his fingers have made me come several times already. I am floating, every nerve tingling, hanging on his every word, suspended by his voice as surely as the imaginary restraints into which he has bound me.

"Take it, girl. Take it all. Too big, is it? That's your favorite thing to complain about, isn't it? I should spin you around again and shove it down your throat. You won't complain about that, will you? Of course you won't, your throat will be full of cock. Don't worry, girl, soon your lip will heal and then, ohh, and then. . . "

"Then you'll fuck my throat again?" I gasp, each syllable interrupted by my gasps as his cock moves inside me.

"Oh yes, what a clever fuck toy you are. That's right, then I'll fuck your throat again," he croons, the low rasp of his voice sending tingles down my spine. "You love being full of my cock, having all your holes filled and stretched open around me, for me. That's what you're fucking for. For me to fuck all your holes. Your ass loves my cock too. It loves me to shove inside it, to force you open, to make you mine. You're afraid too, afraid of how big it is. But you love to be afraid of my big cock fucking your ass. You're a collection of fuck holes, what's that like, to be a walking collection of fuck holes?"

I can only respond in grunts and barely-restrained screams. His words and his actions have driven any rational part of my brain away and I can only feel things, react to things, arch, scream, pant, gasp.

"And I can just keep you here, hanging here, for me to fuck those holes whenever I want, however I want. Ohh yes I like that. My own hanging fuck toy." He pulls me closer into him as he speaks, his cock pushing more into me than there is me, stretching my insides further, making me cry out as he finally comes. His orgasm is long, his moans of pleasure intense.

But then he is on top of me, his fingers sliding into me, stroking my clit, pressing hard into my g-spot, and I am screaming again. I thought I was spent, done, no more gasps of pleasure left but he is wringing every bit out of me that he can.

And I adore him. I adore what he does to me and I just keep thinking, when I am allowed to think as his fingers draw more orgasms from my exhausted body, how very lucky I am to be this man's sex slave.


Thank you, husband.

Internal experiences, external actions

His hand pushes on the back of my head, forcing it forward and away from him, exposing the back of my neck to him. He rubs the soft bristles of his beard against me there, a thousand tiny points of sensation, and I gasp loudly.

"You like that, girl?" he asks, pushing harder on my head, rubbing his beard against me while I feel myself melting. He moves his chin over to the tender curve between my neck and shoulder, and I inhale sharply as sensation overtakes me. I can't say which thing I love more - the hand pressing possessively yet almost dismissively against my head, or the sensations his beard is awakening across my body. Goosebumps rise up all over me and I moan.

Right in the what?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It stings.

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

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

I'll take it.

Fucking after a 5K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

This will have to do for now.

Hundreds of orgasms

He pulls me in close. "You like to think about sex, don't you?" he whispers right into my ear.

"Yes sir," I answer, my voice low with my mouth buried against his neck.

"You don't just like to think about it, though, you like to hear about it. You like me to tell you, remind you what a dirty slut you are, that you are mine."

"Yes sir."

He yanks my legs apart and he hits my inner thighs, and then my pussy with a measured force that hurts, but doesn't sting so badly I try to close my legs. I whimper with each one, and eventually I am arching into them, my whimpers changing to half-moans. 

"Does this hurt, girl?" he asks, keeping his rhythm steady. My clit is hiding but the steady thump thump thump on my mound really feels good to it, despite the low-level pain on the external bits.

"Yes sir," I whimper.

"Do you like it when I hurt you, girl?"

"Yes sir," I moan. Oh, I really do.

"You like to be owned," he says, not really a question, as he moves his blows back to my thighs.

And then he stops hitting me and his fingers are sliding around, stroking my folds, dragging the wetness up to my clit, making me gasp. He holds me tightly against him, his beard is pressed into my cheek, his lips right against my ear. Later, my face will feel burned. Now, I don't notice.

"Look at you, moaning with your legs spread." The way he is holding me, his cock is pressing against the back of my hand. I turn my hand around so my fingers can encircle his erection, and he pushes it harder against me, fucking my hand.

"Feel that cock? You like the way that feels?" He waits for my head to nod against him as I release a shuddery breath, then continues. "I'm going to fuck you with it." 

I gasp, trembling. His fingers are sliding over my clit, over and over, around, over. It feels amazing but the real treat, the true centerpieces of the experience, are the words coming out of him. 

"Yeah, that's right. You're my fuck slave. My sweet little fucking slut-slave. Gonna take this cock and spread you open, invade you, fuck you. Or maybe I won't. Maybe I'll just rub it all over your face. Or let you take just the head in your mouth. Oh, you gonna come for me, bitch? Gonna come just from thinking about sucking on the head of my cock? Yeah, do it, bitch, come on, come for me, yeah, good girl."

Without the words I wouldn't be anywhere near orgasm, but with them I can't stop. I scream and arch into his touch and he just keeps talking while his fingers do the supplemental stimulation that pushes me over the edge, over and over. "Oh yeah, come for me again, bitch. Yeah, you just can't stop can you? 'cause that's how you work, once you get going you just....can't... stop. You like thinking about my cock down your throat? About me fucking your face like it's a pussy?"

"Oh, God... I can't breathe with your cock down my throat."

"Mmmm, I know, and you're so fucking helpless. You love that, don't you?"

I can't answer him, I'm too busy coming. God, the words just keep pouring out of him.

"You couldn't stop me if you wanted to, could you?"

"No sir," I pant, trying to catch my breath.

"Go on, girl, try and stop me." He tosses his leg over mine, pinning me down and open. He wants me to fight him? What? I struggle, trying to first arch up to get his leg off me, to pull away. I'm weakened by orgasms; he's stronger, pins me down, keeps me open to him, continues forcing orgasms out of me. His strength thrills me and I come again even as I struggle.

"See, girl? You're mine. Can't stop me," he drives his point home straight into my ear as I scream my pleasure.

He positions himself over me, his mouth over my left nipple. "I'm gonna bite your nipple now," he says. 

"Oh, God, that'll hurt," I whimper.

"Yes it will," he says, and closes his mouth over me. I don't feel anything at all at first, just his fingers continuing to deliver the constant stream of pleasure between my legs, and then his teeth are biting down into the tender nub of flesh atop my breast, really, really biting it. It's sharp, it hurts, I scream. I arch up - into his bite. I scream again, and his fingers close over my right nipple, hurting it even more than his teeth are hurting the left one. I scream - loudly. A monster fucking orgasm comes barreling down onto me and I spasm into him. 

"OH THAT FUCKING HURTS," I scream/growl. "FUCK YES, HURT ME, HURT ME, FUCKING HURT ME, YES, FUCK, I LOVE IT WHEN YOU HURT ME." My hands, completely free agents at this point, grab his head and press it hard against me. I don't want to lose this incredible feeling. The more I scream about loving it, the more he hurts me and the more I come. It's a feedback loop of incredibly intense proportions and oh GOD how can I come so intensely from having my nipples tortured so? But I do. He makes self-satisfied "mmhmm" noises. How someone can manage to sound so in control with his mouth full of nipple I'll never know.

I lose all track of time as the orgasms wash over me. Eventually he stops biting/pinching my nipples, but still I am completely owned, his voice has wrapped around my brain and I will do anything he tells me - including come.

"You want to suck my cock now?" he asks, years later, as I am gasping for air, spent, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it everywhere. The guttural noise of anticipation that comes from me is partially caused by the roughness in my voice from all the screaming, but it's mostly a genuine expression of desire. His cock has been fucking into my hand for ages now, and I really, really want it inside me. Anywhere. 

"Yes sir," I gasp out, taking my face from his neck to look up at him. He's still touching me, still slowly delivering orgasms as he speaks. 

"Or I could fuck your pussy," he says, pausing, clearly waiting for my response. 

"Mmmhmm," I respond.

"Or your ass," he says, just as casually. 

"Mmmhmmm," I say. "Want your cock inside me," I beg, squeezing it with my hand, my hips still moving to his touch as another orgasm slowly builds.

"And you don't care where, huh?"

"Just want your cock inside me," I repeat. 

"Fuck-slave," he says.

"Yes sir," I agree, though his words shake me and my words come out even more tremulous than they had been.

"Suck it, then, slave," he orders.

"Yes Master," I say as I move. I lick all along his shaft first, getting it good and slippery before I slide my mouth on it in one smooth gliding stroke, making sure to compress the head the way he likes as it passes my lips. We both groan as his cock slides to the back of my throat.

He grabs onto my hair, tightening his hands into fists, and I scream around the hard flesh in my mouth. Oh, I do love it. The anticipation is driving me mad, and then his hips start moving.  "Ohh, good fuck hole," he says. "My good fuck hole. Is it hard for you to breathe when I fuck your face like this, fuck hole?"

"Mmmhmm!" I manage to respond even as he keeps driving his cock all the way into my face. I'm sure my excitement about the entire situation is blatantly obvious.

"I don't care," he says, and I squeal with a new flush of arousal. His cock in my throat cuts off my squeal. "Just take it," he growls. His hips are moving smoothly, his cock never completely leaves my mouth, and we are both really, really enjoying ourselves. My tongue rolls over his cock as it plunders my mouth and I suck until he enters my throat, which makes pretty much any active participation difficult.

He gathers up all of my hair and hauls up on my head, popping his cock out of my mouth. It strains toward me, slick with my saliva, shiny, wanting. I open my mouth to take it in and start to move back down, but he has all of my hair in his fist. I moan helplessly.

"What's the matter, girl? Wanna suck the cock?"

"Uh-huh," I squeal, my head held captive by the hair.

"Go on, then, girl, suck the cock. What's stopping you?" He keeps holding my hair as I pull against it, feeling more and more tension as I try with all my might to take his cock in my mouth. I cry out with arousal and frustration - it so turns me on when he tells me to do something he's preventing me from doing, and added to that that he is forcing me to pull my own hair - oh, he is a diabolical sexy genius. I am panting, pulling, a stream of frustrated cries coming from my mouth. I can just barely reach the head of his cock with my tongue, and so I do. It darts out to lick and I moan as my tongue strokes over the smooth surface. I want it in my mouth! Why won't he just let me?

"How badly you want that cock, girl?" he asks over my frustrated squeals.

"Oh, God, fuck my face!" I beg.

He lets go of my hair, then, and taunts me between his own pleased noises as I consume him. "Horny slut," he murmurs, "I never did see a girl want a cock in her mouth so badly she almost pulls out her own hair."

He fucks my face, holding my head. "Maybe I should fuck your pussy now," he says. "I could get on top of you, hold you down, fuck you. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" 

My ability to respond is limited to "mmhmm," but I make it a good one. 

"Or I could fuck you sideways... fuck you from behind.. put you on the ramp. I could fuck your ass." He keeps talking and I keep sucking, responding to each suggestion with equal enthusiasm. I just love fucking him any way he wants.

"Oh but you really like the cock in your pretty face, don't you?" he asks. 

"Mmhmm," I agree, and I do, especially now after I had to work so hard for it. I wrap my arms around him, grip his ass, pull him into me hard, take him as deeply into my throat as I can and leave him there until I must breathe. I pull away to inhale great lungfuls of air and then repeat the entire thing, over and over. Oh, it's amazing. It's really, really amazing. He's loving it too, and eventually he's coming into my face.

"Oh, fuck, yes, take it down your throat, girl," he whispers, holding my head tightly against him as I swallow.

I keep sucking him for a long, long time, long after his cock has deflated and resumed its previous unassuming size. Eventually he pulls me up into his arms again, and we talk for a while about submission, about evolution and hard-wiring. I wind up feeling a little hurt and I go silent, but he's not having that, and we talk even more, until the entire thing is a nonissue because honestly he's incredible.

And then his fingers are exploring me again, but now I'm on my stomach and he's sliding his thumb inside me while his fingers stroke my clit, and he's saying something.

"Gonna come for me, girl?" he says. I shake my head, I'm not quite there. 

"Yes you are," he says, "don't even bother trying to fight it. You're my fuck-slave and you'll fucking come for me when I tell you to. Now come for me!"

The entire speech sends me rocketing off into orgasm-land, much-aided by his manual ministrations, of course. After I settle, I feel his cock, hard again. "Turn on your side and give me your pussy," he says.

I do, facing away from him, bent over. I might have liked him atop me better, but it's gotten very late and we're probably both too spent for that. His cock slides into me easily because I'm soaked with arousal, and we both enjoy that sensation. He drags my top leg backward over his hip so he can stimulate my clit while we move together. 

I move my hand down to feel his cock as it moves in and out of me. It's a busy area - his hand on my clit, my hand on the base of his cock, our bodies fucking. It's sex. It's the definition of sex and it is very, very, sexy. I groan. "Let me suck it again," I whisper.

He does. I suck him down my throat, a very enjoyable repeat of what we'd already done, flavored now with the countless orgasms I'd already had. When he comes again, he comes for a long time. It feels pretty intense from where I am. Some of it comes out of my nose, but not enough to burn.

His fingers are on me again, stroking my clit as he kisses me hotly. My body is his plaything; it responds to his touch quickly since I am already so very very primed.

"Gonna come for me?" he asks as my body arches up. I shake my head, not there yet, and he speaks again. "Yes Master. I'll come whenever you tell me to, Master."

Oh my God what is he doing? Oh, fuck, I have to say that. Oh, oh, oh my God. "Yes, Master," I manage, and the orgasm starts to overtake me as the words leave. "I-i-i'll come..." oh, fuck, I'm screaming, it's too much, "whenever you tell me to, Master," I finally manage to eke out the rest of the sentence between my spasms of pleasure and my screams of joy.

He gently soothes my flesh as I come down, kissing me, stroking my body. I am full of things to thank him for.

"Thank you for coming down my throat twice. Thank you for all the orgasms. Thank you for fucking me. Thank you for hurting me. Thank you for talking to me, and making me talk back to you."

He squeezes me close. "Thank you for being mine."

I purr. We are a pile of arms and legs, my head on his shoulder as we drift off to sleep.

Too hot to handle

Overwhelmed may begin to describe it; I don't know if I can do a fair job of it beyond that. I do know that I spent a good deal of time just reliving the wonder of it in my head. Sometimes, the man I married is so truly magnificent that I can't understand what he is doing with me - with any human. Surely he should be consort to a goddess somewhere.

There was a thing between us. It was just a tiny thing, said by him in the heat of the moment, but it'd been under my skin for days. It's so rare that we argue, that he says anything at all hurtful, that this was major. I withdrew. I still participated in our marriage, still enjoyed his company, but during quiet moments those words came back to me, made me sad all over again.

He held me in his arms last night, and after several failed kisses, he extracted the problem from me. "But that was days ago!" he said, sounding surprised.

He apologized. It was sincere, and as his words melted the protective ice around my heart, I melted against his side. When his lips came down on mine again, his hand on my throat, a moan rose up to greet him as I kissed him back. I gloried in it as he claimed my mouth, little whimpers of release finally escaping. The ecstasy of belonging to him was unleashed on my brain again, a flush of excitement, of submission, creeping all over my body as our lips danced. "I want to keep you safe from the monsters," he whispered. "I want to make love to you. And I want to use you as my fuck toy."

I whimpered, all of those words hitting me in all the right spots, turning me to a quivering mess. "Do those things conflict?" he asked.

Taking

Jetlag is a killer.

We're having a hard time adjusting to our new time zone, but otherwise everything is lovely. Friends, shows, family, fun. Just as arranged.

Something I ate didn't agree with me, and when we went to bed so, so early, my husband merely wrapped me in his arms, told me a story, and we fell asleep.

Later - much, much later, his fingers drifted across my face, he cupped my breast. His gentle touches were pulling me from the depths of sleep. I moaned softly.

"Mine," he whispered. I felt his cock pressing against my leg. His fingers kept stroking my skin - waking me up more and more. I resisted internally, though I did nothing to stop him. He'd already reminded me to whom I belonged.

"What you doing with the sleepy girl?" I asked groggily.

"I thought I might fuck the sleepy girl," he answered. He knocked my legs apart and stroked me between them, adding a slap or two for good measure.

He drew me out of sleep, he fucked me, and I thanked him for it.

"Thought it would be a shame for the fuck toy to go a night without being fucked," he said as his fingers drove me to the heights of pleasure.

After the screaming, he gathered me into his arms and squeezed me tightly. We lay awake for a long time like that, our limbs entangled. In an odd twist of events, I fell asleep before he did.

One of my favorite parts of our dynamic is when he takes what he wants - even if it means waking me from a sound sleep.

There's an indignant feeling at first, and then comes the realization that this is good and right and exactly what I've always wanted. There's a brief internal conflict and then I am swept away, all my walls down, his for the taking.

He's very, very good at this.

Just right

Aisha has a lovely, lovely post and poll up on her blog about whether people are getting enough D/s - control, kink, sex, in their lives.

I've seen the time when I would have answered - not enough - never, ever enough.

And while I count myself among the truly insatiable people of the world, I answered honestly that I have just the right amount of kink and sex in my life. I am truly, truly fortunate that my husband has decided to travel this path with me and give me everything I ever fantasized about, and beyond.

We could add more kink to our lives - and will - why hello there, mister rope - and it would not feel like "too much," for me. But right now, I have stunningly kinky sex almost every day, sometimes twice!

I sit at his feet and he strokes my hair.

He wraps himself around me every night, and I am safe and warm and absolutely, completely his.

He may have never seen himself owning a person, but he does it incredibly well and I am very very grateful to him for taking on the responsibility.

In other news, Lily's book is out! I had the amazing good fortune to be a beta reader, and it is good stuff. Go, read it and be enlightened!

Resistance

"Turn over so I can flog you," he says. Matter of fact, of course I will obey him, I always do. I am a good girl, a good plaything.

I snuggle closer into his side. "I'm not sure that I'm interested," I say, also matter of fact.

"Oh?" he says, gentle amusement tinging his voice. "So now I'm supposed to require an interested girl? When did that happen?"

"No, no, I mean, I'm not so sure I'm interested in any of it."

"Huh. You mean you just want to be snuggled and loved on?"

"Yeah. We're doing okay like this." Barring the ravaging of my exhausted form several days earlier, we'd been getting by on snuggles, kisses, a brief flogging. My brain was becoming used to it, and I much preferred to just happily exist there rather than to fly off into the stratosphere only to have to come crashing back down.

"You don't get to choose though, do you?" His words drive the nail of desire deep into me, and I whimper, burying my face against his chest. "Do you?" he prompts.

"No, but." I squirm as he lifts my shirt, strokes my back and ass, slaps my ass a few times, lets his hands wander over my skin.

"I can take my shirt off for you," I offer. It's a good shirt; I am afraid he will stretch it out.

"This feels more invasive," he says, clutching me close to him. He's right, it does.

"I can put on another shirt if you wish to be invasive," I say. "This one is actually a good shirt." It matters not if he stretches my night clothes that only he will see me in, my good clothes are another matter.

"I'll let you take it off," he relents.

I sit up and do so, then slide back into his arms. "Thank you," I whisper against his shoulder. He is in the drawer, and he has cuffs. He wraps my wrists in the softness of them, firmly, even as I whimper my complaints.

"You're a complicated girl, aren't you?" he asks softly.

"Am I?" I ask. I know what he means, but it doesn't seem that complicated. Needs not met go away.

His hands are everywhere, stroking, slapping. His fingers wander between my legs, and I close them. "What's this? You think you can hide parts of you from me?" he asks. He is persistent, pushing on my knee as I shake my head. He strikes my inner thigh hard then, raining blows down on my inner thighs alternately, pushing them apart when I try to close them. He rolls atop me, holding my legs open, rubbing the hardness of his cock against my thigh that he had so recently been slapping. The soft cotton of his boxers abrades my abused flesh and I whimper, struggling.

"Is there a problem?" he asks, his voice taking on the tone that tells me he knows full well what my noises are about, but wants to hear me say it.

"It hurts," I squeak out, having become unused to even such a simple phrase.

"Oh, does it hurt? Has your leg gone all sensitive?" he asks mockingly, continuing to slowly press against me there. His hands shove my knees even farther apart and his head disappears under the sheet. His mouth is pressing against my sex, opening me, and then his tongue is inside. I groan, trying to close my legs, arching up to his mouth at that same moment, simultaneously begging him to stop and begging for more. His mouth is rough with me too, his tongue taking me; this is no gentle lovers' interlude, he is proving a point. My thighs fall apart and I move with him. We both already know he has won.

He stops. "Who do you belong to?" he asks, his face coming from under the sheet, hovering over mine.

I clench my eyes shut, refuse to look at him, shake my head. "Nuh-uh," I say. Defiant, even as he kisses me, as I taste my own arousal on his lips.

"Nuh-uh?" He is surprised, astonished even. He slaps my breast once, again. "I said, who do you belong to?"  Two more slaps, harder. "Who do you belong to?"

My resistance, defense from the need, is melting beneath him. "You," I whisper, my eyes still clenched shut. As if not seeing him will make this whole situation cease. It doesn't work.

"That's right," he says, his fingers pinching my nipple, making me arch up into him and moan. "Now why did I have to ask you that three times? I thought this was already established. You are mine." He kisses me again, sliding off to my side, his fingers occupying the space where his mouth has recently been. My hips move with his touch, and he is talking to me.

"What is this?" he asks, a fingertip dragging up through the wetness he has generated, stroking my clit that has been untouched for days. I groan, a deep, guttural sound from some hidden place inside as his slippery fingertip drags across that magic button. My hips move of their own accord. "A wet, horny slut, I have here. You want me, don't you?"

I shake my head, groaning still.

"That's okay, baby, you can say no all you want. Your pussy says something else. What does it say, baby?"

I shake my head, even more vigorously than before. "Nuh-uh," I whisper.

His lips are close to my ear, his fingers sliding inside me. "It says 'fuck me,'" he whispers, his voice causing goosebumps and an uncontrollable moan to come from me, not to speak of the manipulations of my sensitive bits. "Doesn't it? It says 'fuck me, fuck me.' Let me hear you say it, baby."

I shake my head again, but he is relentless. He presses his fingers deep inside, pressing against my g-spot repeatedly, making me groan deeply and curl into his touch. My wrists twist inside the cuffs, over my head. He presses into me until I come, panting, writhing. His voice is in my ear as his finger continues stroking my clit, making my body squirm, making me moan helplessly. "I like to make you come. I like to touch you here, feel you move, under my control with just my fingertip. This must be what it means to have someone wrapped around your finger. I understand it now.."

"Oh, God, fuck me," I beg.

"I'll fuck you, baby. That's what you're for, isn't it? Good fuck toy," he says, his fingers sliding back inside me and pumping away. I groan. "Good fuck hole," he growls, enjoying my responsiveness to his touch, his words. I am melting into him, a puddle of need, the very need that I have only recently banished. I don't care anymore, I just want this. Want him. Want us, entwined, enmeshed. What does it matter at that point which person is owned and which is the owner when both are one?

I am turning over onto my side, rubbing back against his cock as he presses it against me. "I don't know if it will go in there," he says as it presses just slightly into my opening. I am tight still, even after his fingers plundered me. I groan and wriggle my hips. "Maybe I should fuck you some other time," he whispers.

I grunt and shake my head, pressing back against him harder, wanting this now.

"Does your pussy need to be fucked now?" he asks. I moan in response.

"Let me hear you say it," he orders.

It is a struggle to vocalize, but he is requiring it of me and so I manage it, desperately. "My pussy needs to be fucked now," I moan, coupling the words with a little wriggle back onto him.

His hand is on my hip as he plunges inside me; we both groan with satisfaction. "Mmm.. I bet you'd say that more often if you could," he whispers.

"Yes sir," I agree softly, as we move together. Passion flows between us, wrapped up in sex. He feels divine; he is divinity visited upon me. Who am I to complain that I only get such treatment twice a week? Who am I to resist it when it does occur? Selfish, horny slut, that's me. Complicated? Yeah, I guess I am.

"Were you made to be fucked?" he asks.

"Mmhmm," I whisper.

"Were you made to be fucked by this cock?" he asks.

"I am for you to fuck," I pant, my hips moving, hard to speak through the pleasure he is causing.

"Mmhmm, that's right," he approves. He is grabbing my hip, my hair, and slamming into me over and over. I am crying out. Oh, fuck, that feels amazing.

He comes; or I think he does. I am lost in arousal, desire, need. I am not terribly attentive. I am Greedy Submissive right now. He removes himself from me, though, and his hand replaces his cock as I roll more onto my stomach, my head resting against my bound hands. He is still talking; as his thumb presses inside me, his fingers play with my clitoris. I am nothing but sensation; a hole to fill, an ear to torment. My brain reacts, setting my mouth to constant near-scream. He is pulling my head up by the hair. Yes, yes I am a fuck toy, God, yes, a fuck hole. This is what I am for. Nothing else. I was put here for this. Everything else is distraction. This is the distillation of my being.

I am screaming louder as his fingers continue working their magic - his hand is constantly tugging hard on my hair, my head lifted into the air, his words. A scream turns into a deep, panicked groan as my leg starts thumping behind me. "Come for me, slut," he orders, his voice nearly lost in the noises I am already making. That is all - I was approaching orgasm already but at his command it overtakes me. My neck muscles relax, the result being an increased intensity in the pulling on my hair, which makes the orgasm even more intense. I cannot control anything; I am controlled, I am free, I am screaming with pleasure too intense to bear, but bear it I must.

I collapse onto my face, his hands are gentle on my back, stroking my hair. I am softer now, accepting his touch gratefully, melting into him. We are part of each other, as it should be.

Sleep claims me, and when I wake hours later, wrapped in his arms, I am still cuffed.

Beyond Erotica

Is the title of a horrible movie that we wound up skipping through last night. Bad movie, great post title.

It's been brought to my attention by a dear friend that I need to write. It's true, I do. It keeps me happy, it chronicles my life, and it leads to a deeper connection in my marriage. It's hard sometimes, when you're so busy living, to carve out a few moments to write about it.

For some reason I can't remember, last night we were browsing the movies on offer in Amazon Prime's free streaming, via my Kindle Fire. After I finally put it away, it was approaching midnight. Already tired, I sank down onto my pillow. "Goodnight, husband," I sighed softly.

He turned the light off, and on again. "I think I'll leave that on," he said.

"Why?"

"So I can see you, silly girl."

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.

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.

Some other beginning's end

Every new beginning comes from one, you know. This night was one of the ending ones: my mom's last night here in our apartment with us before she goes back to the other side of the country.

My husband's been playing with me without a lot of pain lately - spankings turned to love taps, although thankfully the nipple pinching never went anywhere. I was beginning to feel that he thought pain was the only way to turn me on. It's not. I like lots of things, pain just happens to be one. When he started flogging my ass last night by gently smacking the flogger against my skin, and it made a pathetic little "flup," sound, I giggled.

"What? That's funny?" He did it again.

I giggled again. "I can barely even feel that!"

"Oh, huh. I thought you didn't want any pain."

"Husband, let me tell you something. It's going to be pretty hard to hurt me there."

"I see. As opposed to your thighs?" he confirmed.

"Mmhmm," I giggled again as he let the flogger flup against my backside once more. The giggle dissolved into a deep moan when he brought the flogger down with more force, feeling incredible as it thudded heavily against my body. He kept that up, actually bringing it down harder and harder, and I began to squirm as the delicious thumps built heat and sensitivity into my skin. He paused for breaks now and then, trailing the soft rope ends of the flogger over my ass, hearing my soft moans of pleasure from the delicate sensation.

His hand crashed into my ass, hard, making me jump. He did it again, swapping sides, and again.

"Oh, God, you can actually leave my ass there," I whispered. It felt like he was trying to eradicate it.

"I thought it would be hard to hurt you here?" he asked, landing another smack down just as hard.

"That is hard, love," I explained, jumping at the contact as he rubbed gently over the inflamed skin.

"I see," he said, and let his blows become a little less like anvils, a little more like hands. I resumed my happy moaning and wriggling.

He had me turn over after a while, pulling my legs open, gently slapping my spread thighs and my pussy until I arched up into his touch. Oh, the fire he was building was going to be spectacular when it was lit. "Mine!" he whispered at intervals as his open hand slapped into my delicate parts, making me groan each time.

He moved suddenly, his face between my spread thighs, and his tongue was working against my clit as his fingers slipped inside my pussy, pressing into my g-spot, making me buck and moan. His lips pressed against mine afterward and I responded gleefully, licking and sucking his lips that tasted and smelled of me.

"I am going to shove something in your ass." He paused for effect, then continued: "Then I'm going to make you suck my cock. Because I can. Because I want to."

He took out a plug and the lube, pushing me over gently onto my stomach again, lubing me for the invasion.

"It's a little cold. But it's okay, you'll warm it up," he assured me as he slipped the plug inside me. This was the Mood Naughty, a lot smaller and easier to accept than the Big End.

That's when he started the pleasure, the endless rolling waves of pleasure that crashed over me. My hair eventually worked itself all around my face, forming a net that caught my panted breath as surely as any more solid barrier. Steam built against my face as I writhed under the movements of his hand on my clit, inside me, pressing against my g-spot, teasing the base of the plug. I screamed, over and over, and could not get enough air. My hands moved to wipe the hair out of my face but they kept stopping to claw at the sheets, to slap against the bed. My screams bled into deep, satisfied moans as my body lifted, curling against the onslaught and then back down into his unrelenting touch.

"This," I panted, several orgasms in, "Oh, God, this is not... oh, god, this is not what getting your cock sucked looks like."

"Oh, I know," he responded smoothly, deftly bringing another orgasm, enjoying the way I curled, whether into it or against it, the way that I vibrated helplessly under the spell he wove with his magical fingertips. "This is all still part of shoving something in your ass. Thanks for the reminder, though." His voice rose slightly so I could hear him over my own pants and squeals, over the sound my open palms kept making when they slapped against the mattress.

"Is my girl ready to suck my cock?" he asked softly as my screams quieted and my breathing returned to a less ragged state. I nodded, my face still lost in the steamy cage created by my fallen hair. "Does she need a minute?" he asked, as I lay there, unmoving except for the rise and fall of the deep breaths I was taking. "I don't think I want to give her a minute. I want my cock sucked now. Come on, girl."

I inhaled roughly as I brushed the hair away from my face, the damp strands clinging to my hot skin. The cooler air of the bedroom rushed against my flushed face and it felt heavenly as I moved, turning on my side and scooting down so my face was even with his gorgeous cock. I filled my lungs with fresh air, with the newly clean scent of him, and I moaned as I sucked his cock into my mouth, swirling my tongue, using my lips to gently tug at his foreskin as he slid all the way to the back of my throat.

"Oh, yes, that's a good, good cocksucker," he praised me, causing another moan to rise from the depths of my being. Oh, yes, I do love being his good cocksucker. My deep moan around his cock was accompanied by a renewed surge of sucking, harder, deeper, gagging ever so slightly as he passed the entrance of my throat. My hands pulled his ass to me, stroked his balls, and we moved together, a timeless dance punctuated by our mutual sounds of pleasure and the occasional gag from me. I poured every ounce of the devotion that I feel toward him, of my appreciation for the pleasure he had already granted me, into my actions.

He was loud. He moaned repeatedly when he came, his hands tugging on my hair, pulling my head close to him. I rejoiced in his loudness as I struggled to swallow the copious amounts of seed he spilled into my mouth, down my throat. I suckled gently at his cock as it softened, whispering to him how perfectly it is formed, how much I love touching him there.

I finally left him alone and scooted up, his arms going around me automatically, his hand cupping my face as our lips met in a final kiss before sleeping.

In a different world

Monday was interesting. I couldn't stop being horny, all day. I longed to just get my husband home and take him to bed, to feel him touching me, filling up all the empty spaces within me. I told him as much too.

When we got him home from work we spent some time snuggling and making out like teenagers, kissing, kissing, endlessly kissing. It was glorious.

I went to take a bath after dinner, and afterward the intensity of my need was dampened quite a bit. That's not to say I wasn't still up for sex, but I wasn't raring to go.

He was writing some code after we put the little one to bed, and I went into our room and started making practice monkey fists for a new flogger. He followed me soon after, sat on the bed and talked to me, eventually convincing me to to stop making monkey fists and "have monkey sex."

I cleared away the ropes from the bed and lay down, facing away from him.

"Take off your clothes," he said.

Mind blowing spanking

So, back to our kinky sex and amazing spankings. Any objections? No. Good.

Disclaimer before I begin: The spanking that blew my mind was interestingly not one on my backside. A thigh and pussy spanking seemed to be what my husband was in the mood for, and he gets what he wants.

It had been a couple of days since we've had sex, and my husband disappeared into our bedroom right around 9:00 on Friday. I was sending a few emails in the living room, thinking he would come back and we'd watch something, when he poked his head out. "Are you coming to bed, girl-person?" he asked me.

"I... didn't know we were going to bed," I said, surprised, looking at the time.

"We are going to bed." His tone indicated he had plans.

Opening doors

You don't find a lot of introspection here at Exploring Surrender, which is odd since the title seems to imply that you will. To be honest, self-examination of that kind makes me feel intensely vulnerable, especially since my husband reads here and honest-to-goodness introspection often makes me feel like I've just opened up my head and let all the less attractive parts of me hang out right in front of him. 

Kitty recently wrote a post that set me thinking. When she begins the interlude, she is steely, resistant to her husband's advances, even though they had planned to be there together at that time.

As much as I want to submit to my husband and crave pleasing him, I do this too. I'll sometimes have a steely attitude that will often wind up discouraging him, and nothing happens even though I'd really, really prefer that it did, and then I get sad. At that point, he's in an impossible situation.

I've turned this over in my head for years, but it wasn't until I started responding to Kitty's post that I began to see what goes on in my head.

It's probably fair to say that many submissives who bring the concept to their husbands wind up second-guessing themselves, wondering if he's really into it, or if he's just doing it to humor them.

Our relationship is amazing, honestly, it is, and I know it. But the second-guessing just does not go away. I don't have a nice little window into his head like he does into mine. He becomes more confident by the day, as I write about my feelings and how I experience our experiences. But I don't.

While I always want to be there with him, I sometimes may act as if I don't - because I feel he may not want to be there, and I am trying to open a door to make it easier for him to get out.

He may say a million positive things about our dynamic, but as soon as he says something that can be construed as less-than-complimentary, my heart sinks. I can go from laughing, happy, delighted, to deeply saddened, the spark of joy within me stilled along with my breath, my inner laughter quieted. It actually feels as though a silencer has been applied to the happiness within me, a huge wet blanket of misery blacking out the memory of hundreds of joyous experiences.

There's a large part of this that's tied up with trust - trusting him to do what is best for both of us, trusting that the things he says to me are true, and trusting that he is getting more joy out of the things we do together than he is putting effort into them.

Why is it that I can trust him to hurt me, talk dirty to me, invade every part of my being, but I cannot trust that he is where he wants to be?

It's because I know how much he loves me and wants my happiness.

I need to stop trying to open doors. If I was visiting someone's home and they kept holding the door open saying "Are you sure you want to be here?" I'd eventually feel unwelcome and leave, no matter how much I'd initially wanted to be there.

I'm just not sure how to stop. Maybe if I have to open doors, I should open doors to inner chambers rather than the exit ones, and strive to banish steely-me from our bedroom.


I haven't done a lot of this since I had my lightbulb moment on symbiotic relationships and angst having no place within them. Our "us" is so very close to perfection that it feels like blasphemy to even give this so much airspace. But when it does happen I can feel his frustration as surely as I feel my own inner self go quiet and still. Surrendering to the truth of things he says is every bit as important as surrendering to his will. I adore him, and want him to feel his words are taken for truth, that I don't think he is a liar.

I wouldn't even grant this so much time, but I thought someone else out there may be struggling with the same thing.

Being a toy

His fuck toy.

As appealing as the words are, the reality is sometimes a little daunting.

When he uses my mouth and then comes inside my pussy, falling asleep behind me due to exhaustion, his softening cock still inside me, his finger still buried in my mouth, my needs mostly unsatisfied, my dignity is affronted.

And then I realize, what dignity? This is what I asked for - to be used when he needs or wants, no recriminations, no hassles. 

I feel his seed trickle out of me as his soft cock slides from my body, shaken free by a shudder that wracks my frame as the realization hits me: a toy does not complain when it is used and its owner falls asleep. 

Suddenly it is right. It's okay. I've fixed my own internal anger and I wriggle my body to get closer to his.

But as I shift, he stirs. 

"Why are you so good to me?" he asks, as if he never fell asleep.

"You're asleep," I tell him, laughing a little, lighthearted.

"I am?" he asks. "Kiss me."

I turn my head and our lips meet in the darkness; tender heat builds between us as our gentle kiss lengthens into a place where time has no meaning. Our tongues dance, and my soul flies as his love and appreciation pour into me. His hand wanders to the apex of my thighs, which I closed when I shifted. I purr as his fingertips brush my skin.

"Open your legs for me, sweet girl." His words are gentle and soft but it is nonetheless a demand. I whimper as I am forced to release my resignation to nothing, but I comply, spreading my thighs to allow his hand access.

His words of devotion, adoration, and appreciation invade my ears. As he delivers the pleasure I had convinced myself I did not need, as the lights explode behind my eyes and I cry out with all the intensity of multiple releases, another realization comes to me.

This is what I asked for. The love invades me even more thoroughly than his words and fingers do, permeating all the spaces that are not open to physical intrusion, seeping through my skin and saturating my soul.

I was okay with him being asleep, but when he woke up he wanted to take care of me.

Spouse, lover, treasure, slave, toy.

All these things, we are for each other, regardless of the labels that make our lives more convenient.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Chopstick spanking and sex

I started playing with a beautifully finished bamboo chopstick earlier in the afternoon, and on a whim, added it to our toy drawer.

One of these. From Daiso.

He took it out when we went to bed, and, holding my wrist tightly so I couldn't pull my arm away, whacked it against my inner forearm until it was covered in red stripes. After a few strikes I started trying to pull away, because that's how long it took it to start really, really burning. "Oh look," he said as I whimpered, burying my face against his chest, "it's getting all red up here."

Long minutes of tiny whacks of that chopstick against my inner arm elapsed, each tiny sound followed by a much louder one of mine, but he finally stopped, pushing up my nightshirt, and starting to flap flap flap the tiny stick on my breast, all over. It felt good at first, but as his little flaps started landing on my nipple with more regularity, I began to writhe, make more noises, and try to get away. Oh, it hurt. But I loved it.

As my complaints got louder and my struggles more pronounced, he brought out the wide plastic ruler, and hit me with it all over my breast. "Isn't that worse?" he asked. I nodded, screaming loudly as it landed straight on my already-abused nipple. "So you shouldn't complain," he concluded, "about this." He started tapping the chopstick against my nipple again.

"It's time to experiment. Which is worse? Ruler to the breast?" he asked, as he landed the ruler on the lower slope of my breast right under my nipple, making me jump and whimper a little, "or chopstick to the nipple?" I screamed as the chopstick hit me right on my nipple, arching to get away from it. "Oooh, I think the nipple."

"Yes, yes," I said, panting, trying hard to catch my breath.

"But it's harder to land this right on your nipple," he said, doing it again, making me cry out yet again.

"Oh, look, you have another nipple."

"No, no," I frantically denied.

"You do too!" he said, stroking it with his fingers, drawing it into his mouth, the pleasure circuits overriding my good sense and causing me to turn my body, to offer him more of my breast. He whacked the ruler into the other one while he sucked and nibbled, so I was sighing with pleasure and grunting with pain all at the same time.

---

So, how to even describe what came after all the breast torment?

His cock was so hard. But he wouldn't give it to me.

"I dunno what's gotten into me," he said as he kept torturing me, making me scream, writhe. At one point I stopped moving entirely, the intensity of the feelings coursing through me leading to a complete stillness that I learned afterward made him worry he was giving me a heart attack.

"A sadist," I responded.

"Maybe," he said, then, as his hand collided with my breast, "you know what's going to get into you?"

"Mmmf," I cried out at the impact, "your cock?" I asked hopefully.

He chuckled softly. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he said, twisting my nipple.

I just nodded as he slipped his fingers between my legs, dragging the tips through my wetness, sliding against my clit, eliciting gasps and groans. I arched up against his touch, wanting more. "If I gave you my cock, I'd have to fuck you." His fingers kept circling around my wet parts, making me groan.

"Not technically," I gasped out, writhing.

"Mmm, you're right. But it's awfully hard to not fuck you when my cock is inside you."

His fingers pressed deeply inside me; he was half on top of me, making me feel pinned and helpless as he pleasured me. I looked up at him and he was looking at my face already, then into my eyes, the intensity of his stare penetrating me every bit as much as his fingers were. "Oh, I like to watch you while I make you squirm. Yeah, baby, submit to me," he said as he held my gaze, his fingers pressing into my g-spot over and over, making my mouth open in a cry even as we looked into each other's eyes.

My eyes closed again and my hips danced, my breath coming quicker, my limbs vibrating as the pleasure he was generating in my core spread outward, lapping at all my nerve endings, setting me aflame. "Oh, yeah, there you go. Come for me, baby," he said, his hand moving faster, faster, the sensations causing me to spiral out of control. My body lifted off the bed, just my shoulders and heels pressing into it, pressing me into him.

He climbed atop me, finally, his cock pressing against my wetness. "Just orgasm isn't enough for you, if you don't get the cock too, is that right? Cockslut," he whispered, sinking his hardness into me, making us both groan with pleasure as he filled me up.

My legs were all over the place, spending a fair bit of time in each position: flat, knees raised up on either side of him, legs straight up, legs up with knees bent, holding my feet, and then my ankles on his shoulders. He never stopped thrusting into me despite all the changing positions, though the speed with which we rocked into each other changed. With my ankles on his shoulders, I felt his cock throb inside me even more. I opened my eyes to see his handsome face framed by my feet, looking at me, his blue-eyed stare of pure sex making me cry out at the intensity of it. Looking at him during sex is scorchingly, nearly unbearably, hot. I can't handle it for very long.

He leaned down, folding me in half, and kissed me hotly, continuing to fuck me, slow, fast, slow. I made all the noises you might expect - screams, gasps, groans and "Oh my God"s. Oh, he felt incredible.

We changed positions again. I wrapped my legs around him and squeezed him as we rocked.

---

Eventually he decided I should suck his cock.

"Does your pussy want a break? Would you like to suck my cock?"

My pussy did not want a break. But. "I would like to suck your cock," I managed to vocalize, breathless as I was.

"Mmm, that's right, you would. Because you're a cocksucker, aren't you?"

His words excited me and I arched up into him. He drove into me hard, circling his hips, grinding, forcing more little screams out of me. "Does just thinking about sucking my cock make you more excited and want to be fucked?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," I whispered, grinding my own pelvis up into him, relishing the sensations as our bodies slid against each other.

"You're a complicated girl, aren't you?" he asked as he withdrew with a suddenness that left me squealing with disappointment. He lay on his back and I dove after his cock with my mouth, sucking my juices off of him, licking all around the head.

"No, no. Greedy little thing. Get me that ramp to lie on first," he said.

I whined, giving him a slurping suck as I pulled my head away to get the Liberator ramp for him to rest against. "I know, you just want to suck the cock."

I put the ramp on the bed next to him and he moved to rest against it, giving him the perfect incline to watch while I sucked his cock. At first I straddled his knees, raising and lowering myself onto his cock using my arms, but eventually I found myself between his legs, his legs over my shoulders, his feet resting on my ass, his hands tangled in and tugging on my hair. His legs squeezed around my head once in a while, taking my breath away. I had the head of his cock resting in the entrance of my throat, and he pushed on my head, hard, gagging me. A thrill raced through me and I screamed, kicking my legs, my arms shaking. "Mmhmm!" I said.

"Oh, you like that?" he asked, doing it again to the same effect. He took my head then, pulling it up by his tight grip on my hair until his cock was only halfway in my mouth, and he held my head there, not letting me move, while he fucked up into me. I kicked and screamed loudly, my entire body shaking as he fucked my face. "Are you having an orgasm from having your face fucked?" he asked me, sounding surprised and amused even as he kept doing it. I shook my head as best I could considering the hard flesh keeping my mouth mostly centered. Not quite orgasm, but so fucking hot that I was having a hard time bearing it, containing the thrill within my body.

When he stopped, I pulled my mouth off his cock, looking up at him, rubbing my cheek against his hardness, kissing it to give my mouth a break. I'd forgotten he was reclining on the ramp and when I looked up at him, there his blue sex laser beams were, driving right into my soul. I moaned.

"Have you sucked all the juices off my cock now?"

I nodded, licking along the side of his cock, down to his balls, because they don't get enough attention.

"Probably time to give you a rest then," he said. "What's a nice, restful way I can fuck you?" he mused, mostly to himself. I just kept licking his balls, stroking his thighs with my hand, sliding up and slowly taking his cock back in my mouth, then going back to the ball sucking. "I could lay you down here and fuck you from behind. Yeah, I'll do that." He paused, making pleased noises as I sucked him hard and deep. "After I put you up on this ramp and fuck you from behind," he concluded. I whimpered.

"Ooh, and then I could fuck your ass." I groaned at the sound of that. The ideas were clearly coming at the man hard and fast. Having his cock sucked must cause creative bursts. I'm pretty sure he was gauging the intensity of my reactions with his pauses. "Or I could shove the plug in you and then fuck you from behind!" I whimpered again, a muffled little scream. I was running my tongue over his balls. "You like that, huh?" he said.

"Full," I said.

"Yeah, you like being full." He gathered the plug and lube from the drawer next to him while I sucked his cock. "But I don't think I can reach your ass from here," he said.

"Nuh-uh," I said, continuing to suck.

"You'd better turn around then," he prodded me verbally. I rotated, raising up on my hands and knees, keeping his cock in my mouth. He moaned; I guess it felt good the way I was moving. Then there was lube, and then his finger, and I was groaning all around his cock.

"Keep sucking," he ordered as he started to push the plug in me.

But I couldn't. I tried, as he slowly invaded me with that monster, but I couldn't. I screamed around his cock for a while at first, and then I pulled away to lay flat, clinging to his calf, kissing it between my moans as he continued slowly sliding that plug into my ass. I rocked my hips and screamed, doing my best not to kick as well, as it passed the largest part of the plug and locked inside me.

"Good girl," he said, pressing against the flat base of it, rubbing my ass for a moment before he got up and stood on the floor next to the bed. He moved the ramp to angle up to him, to raise our bed so I could get up on it on all fours and be fucked. I was sitting up next to it, moaning, kind of dazed from everything that had happened so far. "Get up there!" he told me, shaking me out of my daze with his words. I crawled up onto the ramp.

His slid along my hips and back as his cock forged a path into my pussy, made smaller and tighter by the plug stuffed into my ass and the position I was in. A soft keening wail emerged from me, and it seemed to just keep coming as we moved, providing a backdrop of sound to our activities, interrupted by our moans and sighs and grunts.

I've lost most of what happened next.

I remember:

Him pulling my hair, pulling my head back toward him.

My arms trembling, dropping to my elbows, and his hands in my hair pulling my back up to my hands, making me scream with the unbelievable way this action punched me in the gut, making me even wetter than I already was.

His cock pounding me slowly as his hands crept under my short, loose shirt to cup my breasts and then squeeze and tug on my nipples.

A stream of "Oh my God" that I just could not stop saying, even when I heard myself and realized I had said it at least a dozen times.

Him deciding it had been enough for that position, and abruptly removing himself from me, causing me to back onto nothing and grunt with the lack of him.

Him finally pulling my shirt off me as he slid his cock back into my pussy, lying behind me in the spoons position.

I don't remember him coming, but I know he did.

I remember half a dozen orgasms or so brought to me courtesy of his fingers.

I remember that he talked, but not what he said, only that it was so hot he melted my ability to recall it.

I rolled into his arms afterward, resting my head on his chest, gasping for breath, talking about how amazing that had been, how incredibly lucky I am to have him. We talked for a long time, just letting our hands wander over each other. The plug started to hurt and he told me to remove it, so I did. We talked so long that I felt him getting hard again.

---

"I want to fuck you again."

"Mmm, yes, that's an excellent idea. You want me to turn over?"

"That would be good."

"So wet," he said as he slid his cock back inside me. "How'd you get so wet? You just stay wet, don't you?"

I remember more about this. I remember how huge he felt, seeming to feel every bump and ridge as he slid inside me. I was deliciously sore from the previous use - just enough to heighten the sensation. I remember doing a lot of talking myself, about how amazing he felt inside me, about how much I love for him to take me, to use me. "Yes, yes, oh, fuck, yes," I said as I felt him start to empty himself inside me.

I am one lucky, lucky girl.

A night to remember: The sex

The first part of this is here.

Going to bed early is definitely awesome. If my husband was trying to discourage me, giving me a long, long spanking followed by what followed certainly wasn't the way to go. Now I just want to go to bed early even more often.

"I know what you need," he said, pulling his lips away from mine and looking into my eyes for a moment. I'm sure they were clouded by desire, and I know they were very unfocused because I couldn't manage to bring him into focus in my vision, which is normally blurry at best, but this was even worse. My nipples burned and tingled from the beating they'd just received.

"Put this in you. Just like you did earlier," he ordered, handing me the plug and the lube. I whimpered as I took it from him, turning away, shaking all over. I wasn't entirely sure I could pull this off. My hands shook as I squeezed out some lube onto my finger, and reached back to gently lube my ass, sliding my finger inside, spreading the lube evenly out. I moaned because I was unbelievably sensitive and it was incredibly intimate, doing this with him there. "Yeah, good girl" I heard him say. It was only then I realized he was actually watching me, and I inhaled deeply and let go a long shuddery breath.

I had left the plug and the lube by my head, and I retrieved both now, lubing up the plug generously, making sure it was good and slippery. It's huge for me, and the last part of it is very close to painful to get in, so I wanted to make it as easy as possible. I reached back and pressed the tip of it against my tiny hole, feeling it open me up. I groaned.

"Good girl," he said behind me, making me shudder at the knowledge he was watching this too. I held the base of the plug and slowly rocked my hips, moaning once it got about halfway in. So big. "That's it, girl, shove it in there," he urged me. I cried out at being stretched so much, but I didn't complain, just kept crying out and rocking my hips. "There it goes, all the way, take it, my girl," he kept talking, making my hips move faster, arousing me and humiliating me all in one fell swoop. I screamed a little as the largest part slipped into my body, and then I lay there, panting and shuddering, squeezing my muscles around the invasion. He hadn't touched me since he'd handed me the plug and I was aroused beyond belief. I groaned, my hips still rocking, feeling stuffed. His hand gently stroked my back and at his touch something inside me melted, softening me. Then his hand was pushing against the base of the plug, making me scream again.

"How's your ass feel now?" he asked.

"Oh my God," I answered as that was all I could summon, the entire experience having wiped my vocabulary very nearly clean. I rocked against the pressure he was applying to the plug, shuddering.

"Full?" he asked, prompting me.

"Yessss," I moaned, the desire coiling in the pit of my belly making me employ all my restraint not to turn, wrap myself around him, and fuck his brains out.

"And your pussy?" he asked, his fingers entering me there easily as I was a slippery mess of arousal. "Oh, yes, this pussy wants to be fucked, doesn't it?"

"Oh, yes," I whispered. Oh, fuck, yes.

"Turn around so I can fuck your face first, before I fuck your pussy," he said, using the words deliberately for their impact on me.

Well there was something I could do. I moved slowly due to the plug stuffing me full, and took his cock in my mouth, laying on my side next to him. Oh, he was hard, smooth and velvety under my lips and I moaned as I sucked him in, his heat overwhelming my senses. He put his leg over my shoulder and grabbed a handful of my hair, tugging on it as I sucked that cock as deeply in as I could. He grabbed my head and just moved it on his cock, faster and faster as I screamed with the excitement that particular activity generates in me, and when he stopped I kept moving at the pace he'd established, faster, faster, pressing his cock into the back of my throat on each stroke. He kept tugging on my hair. "What a good cocksucker, that's what you are, isn't it, a cocksucking slut? My cocksucking slut." I moaned my response. "I thought so," he rasped as I sucked him. "Good, good, fuck toy."

---

"What about your pussy?" he asked after many, many minutes elapsed in a similar fashion. "Does it still want to be fucked?"

"Uh-huh," I managed, without letting his cock slip from my mouth.

"You should probably stop and turn over so it can be, then," he said, "but I know how your mouth is. It just gets ahold of that cock and will not let it go, isn't that right?"

I kept sucking as my response. Deeper, deeper, holding him in the entrance to my throat until I had to pull away to take great gasping lungfuls of air. He stroked my hair gently as I took him back in my mouth. "I know," he said, "how about I fuck your pussy for a while, and then give you a nice juicy cock to suck? You'd like that wouldn't you?"

I moaned loudly. "Yeah, I thought you would. You like sucking those juices off my cock, don't you? Turn over, then, and give me my pussy."

I turned over, each breath hitching in my throat and coming out all shuddery, the plug still stuffing my ass. Despite the presence of the plug, his cock still managed to slide inside me with almost no resistance, my extreme arousal creating a nearly frictionless surface. I squeezed my muscles around him, making a lot of noise at being so stuffed. "So full," I whispered as he began thrusting into me.

My brain was on fire. He grabbed my head, holding it in both his hands, pressing gently on my throat as he slowly fucked me, his cock forcing its way into me, the plug and his cock battling for space in my body. I gasped and grunted and moved with him as best I could when he wasn't moving me himself. He left one hand tangled in my hair and let the other one move to my nipples, squeezing, pinching, pulling at them as he moved inside me, and then his finger was in my mouth. "Yeah, you like having all your fuckholes stuffed, don't you?" he asked, making me whimper my response around his finger as I sucked.

---

A long time passed like that, his voice, my noises of delight, his hands wandering over my body as we rocked together. Eventually he suggested he stop and give me his cock again, as promised previously. I just moaned and kept rocking with him.

"Oh, you do not like stopping what you're doing, do you, slut?" he asked.

"No, no," I panted.

"I know the feeling," he said, grabbing my shoulders and pumping into me even harder, pulling me back onto him. Long, delicious minutes passed like that. I put my hand on the wall over our head to give me more leverage to push back against him, enveloping his cock as much as possible on each thrust.

"Come on, slave, it's time for you to give me that face to fuck." He pulled his cock away from me and I whimpered, but started turning over as he'd requested. 

I moaned as I turned over, and he was rising up on his knees. "Oh my God," I shrilled, realizing what he was going to do, not knowing if I could take it, process it, or not.

I lay flat on my back and he swung his leg over my face, straddling me, facing my feet. I moaned as I smelled my sex on his cock and I took it in my mouth with a loud noise of pleasure, and then his hands were sliding in the slippery mess that was my pussy, his fingers entering me, playing with my clit, as he humped my face, his cock sliding down almost into my throat and back out again. His cock entered me as his fingers did, and he let his fingers skate all around and over my clit. I was a mass of nerve endings and moans that were cut off by his cock entering my throat, near-screams of pleasure as he overloaded my sensory inputs... and he was talking. "Good fuckholes," he was saying, and more, and more, but my overloaded brain cannot remember everything that he said. I just remember screaming, writhing, my screams constantly turning into cut-off noises as his cock entered my throat, and "I like to use you," he said.

I sucked him for all I was worth, and even though his exploration of my nether regions led to a lot of pauses to merely moan around his cock in ecstasy, eventually he came down my throat, his turn for loud moans of pleasure to stop what he was doing.

I kept sucking for a while afterwards, and he kept his fingers stroking me, kept talking to me. "I will fuck you in all three of your fuckholes at the same time if I want to, because that's what you're for. Isn't that right?"

He forced me to acknowledge this as he slipped his fingers inside me, pressing against the plug, other fingers pressing against my clit, pushing it around. I groaned at the words, at being compelled to respond to them. "Yes sir," I whispered, shuddering.

He climbed off of me and lay next to me on his side, his hand delving back into my wetness, filling me up with his fingers, making me squirm and make noises of delicious pleasure.

I was taking a long while as he stroked me, and my arm wrapped around him seemed to be concerning him. "Is your arm going to sleep?" he asked me.

"No. Is yours?" I managed to sound merely like a breathless person instead of a verge-of-orgasm fucktoy.

"No."

"I should probably turn over," I panted, still humping his hand. It's easier for him to make me come if I'm on my hands and knees, and I was beginning to feel like I never would and we would both be frustrated. Also easier for me to get away from him once I am in that state, which is why the next thing shouldn't have surprised me.

"You probably should," he said, tossing his leg over mine, pressing his knee up against his hand as it moved on my sex, and speeding up his strokes of my clit. He squeezed me close as I squirmed. "I'd like to see you try," he growled, and that was all it took. His determination to keep me close and under his control coupled with the slight change in his movements sent me spinning, screaming, over the edge. "Oh, there you go, baby, come for me," he said, satisfaction dripping from his words.

I did. I clutched him even closer to me and I writhed, my hips doing everything they could do get the fuck away from the stimulation that he just. kept. giving. And then I was screaming again, and again, and again, and he was really enjoying himself as he forced me to come over and over and over. I was sweaty, exhausted, but I kept clinging to him and coming, coming, endlessly coming on his fingers. I did not count, I lost the ability to count, but there were dozens of orgasms crashing over me.

"You just keep coming and coming and coming," he whispered into my ear as his fingers did their dance.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, I can't help it," I screamed, tossing my head.

"You should probably work on getting better control over yourself," he said as he kept his fingers moving.

"You control me," I panted between my screams.

"Oh, that's right, I do, don't I? Look at you, slut, you just came twice in the same sentence."

His fingers slowed, gentler, soothing, and I thought he was going to stop. Apparently he was just taking a break, because he increased his speed after a few moments. I shook my head as I approached another orgasm. "No, no," I begged.

"You don't get to say no, baby," he whispered, kissing me roughly, sucking my tongue, his fingers coaxing the orgasm out of my exhausted body as I screamed and whimpered into his mouth.

Something about all of this - my screams in the throes of orgasm, the sweat slicking my skin, or perhaps my helpless tossing - got him turned on again, and I felt his cock, hard again against my hip as I struggled to deal with the endless onslaught of pleasure.

I felt it, and I came again, just knowing that this was turning him providing the extra stimulation to send me into two more paroxysms of joy.

"You should probably stop coming so I can fuck you again," he said.

"Oh, fuck, yes," I panted, my hips still squirming as he kept touching me.

I managed to turn over and his cock pressed into me from behind, feeling even bigger than before, probably due to all the orgasms he'd given me. He grabbed a handful of my hair and held my head up, his other hand gripping my shoulder and moving me with him. "What a good fuck toy you are," he said as he moved my body on his cock.

This second time was faster than the first, though still respectably long. When his breath started to quicken I pressed my hand against the wall to push harder against him and screamed. "Oh, fuck, yes, fuck, yes, come in me, yes, YES, YES," because it was incredibly exciting to have brought him there twice in such a short time. I love his orgasms as much as he seems to love mine.

Afterward, as we lay there panting, he reached up and grabbed my hand off the wall where I had planted it, holding my forearm tightly as we spooned and he squeezed me against him.

"Oh, fuck," I kept saying, and then, much later, "That was the best yet. But I say that a lot."

He laughed. "I suppose I learn from experience."

Hell yeah, he does.

Yay for going to bed early.