Step 1: Flog and spank the slave girl

"Hit me with this," I ask him, handing him a new style of flogger I've just made. I always ask him to hit me with the new types so I know what they feel like before I try to describe them to other people.

He hits me with it. It's small,  but heavy, and packs a whallop. Kind of like a fist, the heavy loops of rope pound but don't sting like some other loopy ones I've made, though there is a little tiny bit of sting to it on some strokes. He keeps hitting my back with it - it feels like a deep tissue massage and I groan repeatedly.

"Enough?" he asks, as I grunt into the pillow.

"Mmf," I answer.

He puts it away, hanging it with the others in the flogger closet, and retrieves our blue silky one from behind the bed.

This one. 

"What you doing?" I ask. I'm exhausted; I haven't moved from my position diagonally across the bed.

"While I have you here," he says, still standing up next to the bed. He shoves my nightshirt up, exposing the skin of my back and my ass. The silky blue-and-white falls land on my back, the softness of the ends trails over my skin.

"How does this one compare?" he asks.

"It's heavy too," I say, "but no sting." I am purring into the pillow as he lands stroke after stroke on my body. I jump a little now and then but mostly I'm just happy. My tensions melt away. I feel amazing and very close to sleep. He climbs atop me, facing my feet, and gives love to my feet and calves. He shoves my legs wider apart on the bed, but just to get better access to stroke me. His foot is near my head and I stroke his calf, but I'm tired and my hand just winds up resting on his leg while I purr at how he is making me feel.

He moves after some long time spend lavishing affection on my lower legs. I realize that he's still standing and I'm in his spot. "You want me to move?" I ask him drowsily.

"Hmm. Yes, I do," he answers. I pull myself into a straighter line, moving away from his side of the bed and turning my back to him. He gets into bed behind me and his hand smacks my ass loudly. I squeal because I wasn't expecting that. He spanks me repeatedly, over and over.  "You should take better care of yourself," he mutters, referencing a cold sore that's beginning to emerge on my lip.

"I only just saw it!" I murmur.

"Well then what am I supposed to spank you for?" He waits a beat, his hand rubbing the warming flesh of my ass, and then he lifts his hand and smacks me again. I purr. "Oh, that's right," he continues, "I don't have to have a reason."

"If you want one there are plenty," I say, raising my ass slightly into his hand. I am referring to my previous post and the misunderstanding there.

"That's not really your fault," he says. He keeps spanking me though, because he doesn't need a reason. His hand smacks me over and over and I am really, really loving it because it's been a while since we had such an extended session.

"There's not much fight in me," I murmur. I'm so tired and he feels so good. I feel like I might just fall asleep.

"That's okay," he whispers into my ear. His voice sends jolts through my body and I shiver. I do so love when he speaks in my ear like that...

"You feel my cock?" he asks. He is so hard, and humping slightly against my arm. I can definitely feel it. I move my hand to stroke against it, turn toward him, curl into his arms.

"Yes sir," I answer, nuzzling my face into his shoulder. His hand tightens into my hair, pulling my face into him so closely I can barely breathe. I moan happily.

He has started Step 2: Drive the slave girl into crazed arousal.

Helpless

Right now, I'm barely managing to get around my apartment.

We went hiking, and I sprained the hell out of my ankle after nearly 4.5 miles on the trail. Thankfully it was a loop, and we were almost finished, so the ranger station was close. My love fetched a ranger to help us.

But now I am injured, and one of my deepest, darkest, most frightening and, yes, most exciting fantasies is to be used while being genuinely injured. The fear of possibly being hurt more, the true helplessness, it all blends together beautifully in my brain. I have a swollen, aching foot and the opposite knee is a mass of bruised tissue that hurts really badly as well.

It's been exhausting, relying on my arms, my good knee, and my good foot to get around. My brilliant, loving, sexy husband has been amazing - helpful and solicitous. He's let me give him blow jobs, and he's touched me, brought me to orgasm with his fingers, but he's been terrified of hurting me further - overwhelming me with gentleness. Which feels lovely and like love and I adore him for it, but I was ready for something a little rougher after a few days.

In the mean time, I had been sinking into the feeling of uselessness that comes with not being able to do much. I began to feel more and more like a useless lump of humanity.

I told him. I steeled myself for his shock or disgust, but I should know by now it's hard to faze this man. Even so, revealing these little hidden bits of myself feels terrifying. I told him that my injuries turned me on, made me feel actually, truly helpless. Not like I could get up and run away or anything.

And my man. My wonderful, open-minded, beautiful man who apparently would in actual fact do anything to make me happy, he responded by turning into an evil sadist bastard and beating me, just like I'd asked. He started once we were in bed and he was holding me, long enough after the conversation that I was a little surprised when he went for my ass.

My ass already hurt from sitting on it way too much with my foot up to keep the swelling down, but he didn't care as his hand smacked into my backside. I squealed, I stretched, I squirmed, but I couldn't even kick my injured foot out, couldn't stretch and push away from him with it. Couldn't bash my bruised knee into his leg. I couldn't do much of anything except accept it, cry out, process the pain.

Oh, how I processed the pain. It was brutal but it was teetering on the edge of orgasmic. My brain really, really processed it. It took that pain and wrung every morsel of feeling out of it, through the entire gamut from true discomfort to bliss. He wasn't holding back either, or if he was I couldn't tell. It hurt, and it felt incredible, all at once.

I carefully turned onto my other side, my back toward him, and he had an even better swing now, even more force into my backside. He brought a flogger into play then, smacking the heavy rope strands into my back, my ass, the backs of my legs. It felt incredibly heavy, nearly unbearable, and my body writhed. My foot wanted to push against the mattress, to stretch and to fight, but I had to keep it still or suffer even more.

"You can't get away from me," he growled into my ear, his free hand tangling into and tugging on my hair, "and I think I will fuck you tonight."

I whimpered in response, feeling my body respond, swell, lubricate for the fucking he was promising. But not yet.

My arms were over my head to protect my face and neck from any stray strands of the flogger, and he was taking a break, dragging the soft trailing nylon ends against my skin, making me purr. And then he targeted my breasts - a heavy smack of the heavy rope into my nipple. A knot caught me right on center and the breath whooshed out of me.

"Oh fuck," I breathed out, stretching as much as I could, thrusting my chest forward for more. Holy shit, that was incredible. I can't remember the last time he'd flogged my breasts and my breast was singing a hallelujah chorus of delight while my nipple simultaneously screamed in pain.

"Oh, I think you like that," he growled as he did it again, and again, and again. I screamed for the joy of it, for the pain of it when a knot would catch my nipple again, about every third strike.

"Don't even think of trying to get away," he said, trading the flogger for a braided version that terrifies me when he uses it on my ass. The nylon braids stroked my screaming nipple, made me gasp and whimper. "Writhe for me, girl, writhe. Good fuck toy," he whispered into my ear, swinging the braids down hard against my breast. "If you try to get away, I'll just have to drag you back and beat you more. Can you imagine how much that would hurt?"

I nodded, whimpering with a kind of aroused fear that is completely unique. The thought of him dragging me back to him and beating me after I'd tried to run away on my damaged foot made me even wetter as I writhed under the heavy blows from the braided flogger.

"Oh you are turning me on, girl," he said, moving the bedclothes from between us and letting me feel his erection against my sore ass. "I do think I will have to fuck you," he continued when I moaned my pleasure at feeling him. I moaned and wriggled, leaning forward to provide him easier access to do just that.

"Good hole," he murmured, pressing his hard cock against my slippery opening and resting with just the head inside, until I wriggled.

His fingers stroked my aching nipple and I begged. "Nipple hurts," I whimpered.

"Yeah? That's interesting," he said, squeezing it tighter, making me scream. I wriggled back against him again, wanting more cock, so turned on by his control.

"You want more cock?" he asked. "You want this cock to fuck you?"

"Yes, oh, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," I begged.

And he did. He slid inside, pulling me to him by squeezing my breasts. My ass burned where he'd beaten it, a pleasantly aching reminder when his skin brushed mine. My breasts were still singing joyfully at having been flogged, my nipple screaming in burning agony while he held it tightly, and I loved all of it.

I was so wet. Surely I was wet enough he could fuck my ass. I wanted him to fuck my ass. I wanted to feel completely invaded by him, and I shifted a little to try it.

It wouldn't even go in a little bit. Not even the tiniest, little bit. I groaned my frustration as he resumed fucking my more willing opening.

But later, he went for it himself. He pushed me forward as he fucked me. "You want me to fuck your ass, slave?" he asked. "You want your master to invade you? Would that make you feel more used?"

"Oh my God, yes," I responded, panting, insane with the want of that.

He lubed my ass while he fucked my pussy, making me groan and whimper at the fullness of his finger in my backside.

And then his cock was aimed at the opening that had already rejected him once, but this was his decision and it was going in. As the head made it through I screamed, groaned, and bucked. So intense. Too intense. Couldn't handle it. My body tried to get away even as my brain relished the overload.

"Not going anywhere, fuck hole," he informed me, gripping my hair in one hand, my hip in the other, and pushing steadily onward - but slowly enough I felt properly invaded, not ripped open. It was delicious. "Going to fuck your ass now," he said, and he did.

His hand went back to my nipple, tortured me there a bit while he moved, and then moved between my legs. "Give me that pussy," he growled into my ear, and I opened my legs for him to touch me there, whimpering as his fingers contacted my sensitive clitoris. His cock never stopped moving in my ass, never stopped feeling amazing, as his fingers began to work their magic on my other bits. His thumb was on my clit and he sank some unknown (to me) number of fingers inside my pussy.

"Oh my God, too much, I can't," I groaned as he overloaded my brain with sensation and my body with fullness.

"Too much?" he asked. "No such thing. This is what you're for. You're for your master to fuck and to fill as much as he wants. Isn't that right?"

Oh God, I thought, you're right, I'm for you to fuck. 

All that could make it out through my groans was "Yes sir,"

"Your ass makes such a good fuck hole," he growled as his fingers moved in my pussy. My ass clenched on him.

Oh. And I wanted to say You like fucking my good fuck hole? but the thought of saying it was too much and I started to tremble there, impaled on his various parts.

"Oooh," he said, knowing an impending orgasm when he feels one. "My girl is going to come for me while I fuck her ass, isn't she?"

"uhhhh-huh," I groaned, tremors racing over my body.

"Go on then, fuck hole, come while I fuck your ass," he growled, and the thought of it was too much, with his fingers moving inside me, against my clit, his cock in my ass. I came screaming and wishing I could say the things in my head that were contributing to making me come.

The orgasm lasted a long time - he drew it out on purpose with his fingers, his cock, and his voice. When my body was finally limp and relaxed, he pushed against me again. "Not done with you, fuck slave," he said. "You're going to come with my cock fucking your ass again."

It's not hard for him, once he's gotten me there once, to drive me there over and over to the point of exhaustion. So that's what he did this time, finally culminating with his own orgasm.

"You want me to come in your ass, slave? You want your master to fill you up? You want to feel well-used?"

"Oh, fuck, yes," I whispered, hoarse from screaming my own pleasure, still seriously enjoying the sensations of his cock and his hand moving on my sensitive parts.

He groaned his own release into my ear, pulling me tightly to him.

As I stretched in his embrace, practically purring as my faculties of speech came back to me, I said "It's strange that you have to treat me like an object to make me feel like a person again."

He stroked my hair. "Maybe I treat you how you want to be treated, and that acknowledges your wants and desires and makes you feel like a person."

He's a smart man.

And hella sexy.

Carnal magic

"Turn over so I can beat you," he says. We've just been chatting on the bed and it's pretty late.

"Don't you mean turn over so we can go to sleep?" I ask.

"No... turn over so I can beat you," he repeats.

I turn over. I know better than to argue further. "I like my idea better," I sass into the pillow.

"Sure you do," he says, knowing I lie through my teeth. He shoves my shirt up halfway my back, smacks my ass with his hand until I yelp. Then he starts flogging me with a soft lovely caressing flogger that makes me sigh with pleasure. "You like that, girl?" he asks.

I do.

He switches - a hard thudding flogger that makes me yelp as it thumps into me. "You like THAT, girl?" he asks.

I do.

He switches again. I lose track. I can feel my ass warming up as he keeps switching floggers. When he switches back to the lovely soft one, it actually hurts a little.

"Oh, this ass is starting to be a nice shade of red," he says.

He uses the crop on me after I am already red. The tops of my thighs get special attention. I lift my ass into it, as the pain transmutes into pleasure, as the burn makes me wet.

He finishes soon after the crop - first his hand smacks into me a few times for good measure.

"Be naked," he says, and so I am.

He kisses me, pulls me to him, lets his hands wander over my body. His teeth find my nipple, bite it until I squeal with pleasure/pain, and then his hands are spanking my breasts, making me moan.

His fingers wander between my thighs, find the incredible wetness there, tease me. He spanks my inner thighs with his hand, over and over, covering all of the flesh there until it burns and I try to close my legs. He knocks them apart and continues spanking them. I close them again, he knocks them apart - three, four times.

I am moaning, my thighs are burning, and he starts slapping my pussy. My soaking wet pussy that wants him to fuck it. He slaps at an angle, into my mound, and I am halfway to an orgasm already. It feels amazing until it starts to hurt. I whimper.  "Am I hurting your poor pussy?" he asks, his voice dripping with false concern.

"Yes," I squeal as he slaps me there again.

"Does your pussy want me?" he asks. He stops slapping me, lets his fingers stroke my clit - my throbbing, needy clit. I moan.

"Yes," I murmur. It's bloody obvious anyway.

"Does your mouth want me?" he continues.

"Yes," I answer.

"Does your ass want me?" he finishes.

I moan.

"What a slut that makes you. My slut," he growls into my ear, his hand tugging on my hair.

"Get on top of me," he says, and so I do. Carnal magic. He conjures sex.

My clit grinds against him as I rock. It's too much, too good.

"You're coming, aren't you? Yeah, fuck yeah, come for me," he says, and I must.

"You want to get off me?" he asks, later, knowing my arms must be tired.

I don't.

"I'll still fuck you," he promises. "Or maybe you'd like to suck my cock?"

I moan.

"Yeah. You want this hard, wet cock fucking your face, don't you?" He slaps my ass, forces me to rock atop him, and I am coming again as he talks.

My wrists are complaining and so I lift off him, slide down between his legs, take the slick hardness of him in my mouth. He is salty, sweet, intoxicating, all the arousal he has generated in me making him taste like that.

My wrists don't like this either, after a while. I roll to my side, and he is in my mouth again, fucking into my throat, holding my head. I start to pull away - it is too much, my throat hurts, my stomach isn't sure how it feels - but he grabs me, holds me, is fucking my face regardless. I know if I could get a word in he would stop, but at the moment I don't want to get a word in.

"Turn over so I can fuck your ass," he orders, pulling his cock from my mouth. He slaps my face with his cock - with his hard, heavy cock. It surprises me and I squeal. He does it again. He likes to make me squeal. Finally he stops, and I whimper as I obey. It's been a long time since we've had anal sex. I try to relax, but that's like trying not to think about something; it doesn't work that well.

His fingers are cool and slippery and feel nice when they touch my tiny hole, but I am so sensitive that I shriek, squirming away a little. He holds me still, slides his fingers deep inside me there. It feels amazing.

He stops, too soon. To take so long with sex in general and yet to rush this part feels so wasteful. His cock presses against me now, and I groan. It's not going to work.

"Give me that ass," he growls, and that sends a rush of heat through me. I try. I push back on him, but it's not going to work. He adds lube, but it's like his cock hit a wall, and as I wriggle, almost-but-not-quite-impaled on the end of his cock, I feel him softening, losing the rigidity that is a must to enter this particular territory.

Not easily discouraged from sex in general, he pulls away to replace his cock with his fingers. They slide inside my ass, inside my pussy, fuck me in both places at once. I scream with the pure joy of it. He adds even more lube. "I think your ass likes that," he says as I moan deeply, helplessly. "I think I should find something to plug it with."

It takes him a moment to locate, but he finds it: The Big End. SO BIG. I am on my belly as he presses it in, and I moan. "You can take it," he says, knowing he's put it there before. I scream as it finally passes the largest part, locking itself inside me. I am panting, but then his fingers are stroking my clit, sliding inside my pussy. I am screaming again because I am so sensitive and I am coming, again, again, again."Oh my God," I beg as I try to catch a breath between orgasms, but that is all he lets me say before he wriggles his finger and makes me come again, again, again.

I am twisting, sweating, panting. I can't. "I can't," I pant, but he is not about to let me finish a thought. More, more, more. I scream and I come and come and come. I feel his cock hardening against my thigh as my screams lengthen and grow hoarser.

"You can't what, girl? Can't stop? Who said you could stop?" he asks. His finger drives me insane and makes me scream until I think I might explode.

"I am going to fuck you," he whispers into my ear. "Right after I'm done making you come."

I writhe. I am a fuck puppet, nothing but a neverending orgasm, a helpless mass of twitching nerve endings.

"Turn over and give me your pussy," he finally says. I can barely breathe, much less move. I claw at the mattress to help me turn over on my side.

His cock slides into me - forces its way into me. "SO FULL!" I exclaim as he slowly drives into me.

"So mine," he growls. "So nice of you to stop coming for a second so I could get my cock in you." He grabs me, and begins to thrust into me in earnest, moving my body against him like a rag doll. "But if you still want to come, don't let me stop you," he says, fucking into me harder. The plug is forcing his cock into my g-spot and it doesn't take long before I am screaming again, a final orgasm ripping through me. I squeal helplessly as it shakes me, and he makes a noise - a contented hunter's noise, as he fucks me right into his own climax.

"You're so fucking incredible," I whisper hoarsely as his arm around my waist pulls me closer to him, as I gather enough energy for actual words. My mind is blown.

"You're pretty incredible yourself," he says.

As long as he wants to, I'll let him keep thinking that.

Belted, flogged, fucked

My Christmas spanking went on forever. His hand smacked into my backside until I was tender, crying out, protesting with each blow.

"It hurts," I begged.

 "Hmmm.. you're right. My hand does hurt," he murmured, and rummaged in the drawer for something. I felt the cool faux leather of his old belt brush against my heated skin and I inhaled sharply, anticipating the blow that was to come to my already tenderized flesh. It did not disappoint. I yelped loudly as it smashed against me.

"Oh my God, it hurts so much," I whimpered as he kept striking my ass and the backs of my thighs with the belt. I squirmed. I wanted it over and I didn't want it over at all. I wanted it to go on forever but I thought that might just destroy me.

"Poor thing," he whispered, giving me a break, smoothing his hand gently over my heated bottom. I gasped as even his gentle touch hurt. A flogger, then, glorious and soft and cool, draping over my burning rear, trailing its tiny knots up my back. Oh, it felt amazing, soothing my pain as it settled from a fiery burning sting to a deep ache.

"Ahhhhhhh," I breathed out with relief, and then he was flogging me. Smack, swish, smack. Oh, that felt divine too, the softness of the cold rope falls thudding into and gliding over my hot skin, my legs, my back. I was squirming in an altogether different way, presenting my ass to him and writhing in sheer pleasure as long soft moans of delight came from me.

"Turn over," he ordered after a long time of this.

I moaned at the thought of putting weight on my back and ass, but I did it. My bottom complained, but it settled to a dull roar as my husband began to flog my breasts. Oh. Yes, I like that. My body surged up into the blows, offering my breasts to the lash of the flogger each time it retreated. My mouth was open, a stream of delighted gasps and pleased moans issuing from it. I was on, all right.

Suddenly, he was on top of me, and his cock was sliding into my extremely wet pussy. I groaned as his hardness filled up all the space inside me, and he thrust down into me a few times, making me clench around him and purr with the delicious feeling of being impaled.

He withdrew far too soon, though, and slid up my body to slide his cock into my mouth, letting me taste my own arousal on his skin. I was out of my mind with want, and I sucked on him fervently. But then he was gone. He was sitting on my midsection, and I heard sounds. My head was still tossed back, my eyes squeezed shut - wet sounds were coming from him, but he wasn't moving.

Oh, God, what is he doing? I thought to myself, and slowly, slowly, I moved my head to look at him.

He was straddling my midsection, slowly masturbating his hard cock. The wet sounds were the moisture from my body on his cock as his foreskin slid over the shaft. "What if I just sit here and masturbate? What will you do?"

I groaned, twisting beneath him, mouth open, tilting my hips up more. I thrashed. There was no way I could get to his cock with any part of me, the way he was sitting.

"I see. You'll go crazy. Which part of you should I fuck?" he asked deliberately, still sliding his foreskin over the head of his cock. "Does your mouth want it more? Or your pussy?"

"I don't care, I just want it in me," I panted, and even as I spoke he was sliding down between my legs.

"Was that an order? I don't take orders so well, you know." He nudged the head of his cock against my sex, letting it slip inside just a very little bit.

"God, no, please... please fuck me," I begged, tilting my hips up to him.

"That's better," he whispered, letting his cock press all the way into me. "Good fuck toy," he said, a groan from him indicating how good it felt, even as I was gasping with the sensations flooding me.

A blur. Moving, sighing, whispered words of pleasure, love, dominance. Oh, it felt amazing.

After he was finished, his fingers found their way inside me and I was screaming. Screaming, as he said "Come for me, yes, good girl, come for me - merry Christmas, fuck hole."

Over and over. Until I was begging for him to stop, for the pleasure to end. Begging, because I was exhausted, soaked with sweat, and sore. My muscles vibrated with the intensity of the repeated release.

But "lots of orgasms" is what I asked for.

He does love to give me what I want.

When I quit

I went to bed alone, fairly early, feeling sad, forlorn, and exhausted. My hands hurt; I think I have arthritis in them. There's hardly any time any more for us to just be the two of us, and I'm feeling it. Add to that the cold sore that's kept us from kissing for nearly a week, and I have not been a happy camper. So while my husband worked at the kitchen table I took my netbook to bed - against our long-standing mutual rule, no non-book tech in the bedroom.

From there, I sent him a message via Google talk: "I think you should know that I quit."

Soon thereafter, he joined me because he'd noticed I posted something on facebook. "What you doing with your computer on the bed, girl?" he asked me. He hadn't gotten the message.

"I sent you a message," I said, as I continued what I'd been doing.

He took out his phone and checked his Google messages. "Um, you quit what? Quit me?"

I shook my head, put my netbook away, and started playing a game on my Kindle Fire, sitting on the edge of the bed. We made fun of the game, laughed a bit. My husband went to brush his teeth.

When he returned, his entire demeanor had changed. "Why don't you put the game away?" he whispered in my ear.

"Whyyyy?" I groaned. So not in the mood for this. Not in the mood for him to do things he doesn't want to do to cure the mood I am in. Not in the mood to be that person who requires attention. Not in the mood to be soft, compliant, willing.

"So I can play with you," he answered simply. "You can be the game instead of the player." As much as I wanted to push him away, those words still sank into me, started eating away at my reserve. If it is a game, he plays it too well.

"No," I said firmly, turning the game off, putting the Kindle away, and settling back into his arms. No reason to push the issue. I figured if I did as he said perhaps we'd get away without the theatrics.

"'No?' There's just one problem with that, isn't there? I think you know what the problem is," he whispered in my ear, his voice sending shivers all over me despite my best intentions.

"I don't know," I whispered. My entire body was thrilling to his words, even as my head balked. Traitorous body. One day it will do what I tell it. That won't necessarily be a good day.

"You don't get to say no, my girl."

I sighed softly, resigning myself to whatever was about to happen. Perhaps if I feigned indifference long enough he'd give up and go away. (aside: WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, GIRL? Do you hear this man?)

"You seem to think that I'm not interested in you. You're wrong." He had pulled me onto my back, shoved my nightie up over my breasts. He slapped my nipple, hard.

I gasped, bit my lip. "Am I?"

"You are." He slapped my nipples back and forth, alternating, causing me to twist and buck. I sighed loudly, obviously. He ignored me. He shoved my legs open and began slapping my inner thighs, hard. Okay, so there would be no feigning indifference. I was gasping. It hurt. My knees kept coming up, together, and he kept shoving them apart again with a casual flick of his arm, continuing to slap. So much ownership is expressed in that casual flick, like my legs closing was no more troublesome to him than a fly buzzing near his head.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, since I was making a lot of noise indicating such. "What are you going to do? Close your legs? Is that going to stop me? Open them. Keep them open until I say otherwise." Oh, my God. Oh, God. I do so love it when he tells me what to do. It hurt so badly, but I was so turned on by the entire situation, by his words, and my legs lay as if bound. My muscles tried to resist but I forced them to stay down, open, as he continued to rain blows on my already sore thighs.

"Good girl," he said as he finally finished, his fingers trailing lightly over my reddened skin making me squeal with the pain. "Sensitive girl," he observed, and grabbed a flogger from the small pile on the corner of the bed. He trailed the ends over my thighs, letting the knots drag harshly against my skin. I squealed again, twisting slightly but still keeping my legs open. He lightly slapped the ends against my thighs, but that didn't hurt as much as the knots dragging there.

"Huh," he said, surprised. "It almost seems like this" and he dragged the knots against my thigh again, making me squeal, "is more painful than this." He lightly slapped the soft ends against me.

"It is," I whispered, my throat already dry from crying out and open-mouthed panting.

"That's interesting," he said, trailing the flogger ends up my body, letting the knots drag the soft ends behind them, creating shivers of anticipation the whole way. He brushed the ends across my face, and then he tapped them lightly against my face, but it was clearly not just a brushing, not just an application of the sensual possibilities the soft ends bring. He was slapping my face with the ends of the flogger - silky though they are, it made an impression. I felt myself get wetter as I moaned with each soft swoosh against my face.

"How does it feel to be my plaything?" he asked, dragging the flogger down again, between my still-open legs, and lightly flogging my pussy with the ends, much the same way he'd just done to my face.

"Helpless," I responded between soft moans, arching up.

"You like that, huh?" he asked. Talking about the flogging. Yes, I like the flogging. I like the helpless feeling too.

He rested the flogger handle on my shoulder, the falls draping next to my head.

His fingers found my core, my clit. I gasped and arched into his touch. "Oh, God," I whispered. The man works magic with his fingers.

He was on top of me. What? When did that happen?

He lifted the flogger from my shoulder, dragged it over a little. Oh my God, he was pressing the flogger against my throat. First the handle, then the rope, pressing against my throat, draping over it and then the pressure, his hands on either side pushing. I gasped. A little tiny scream emerged from me, all that my limited voice channel would allow.

"Mine," he whispered, looking down at me. "You want me to fuck you, don't you? You need fucking." He rocked his cock against my thigh.

"Yes, yes, yes," I panted, rising up to meet him.

He pressed his cock against me, pressing my folds open. He nudged just the head inside me and I groaned as he rocked barely into me. "But what if I don't?" He pulled away completely, leaving me empty, rubbing his cock against me again, pressing it into my thigh.

I whined.

"Ah, you'll whine. Like a puppy. Or like a bitch in heat." He continued teasing me with his body, rubbing into me. "Whine for me, bitch."

I did. I couldn't have stopped if I'd wanted to. I whined and I got wetter and wetter as I did what he told me.

"Good girl. You'll get the cock back, I'll fuck you," he whispered, slowly nudging his way back inside me.

I rose up, but he didn't let me engulf him. "Sweet little bitch," he murmured, sinking all the way into me at his own pace, as I kept whimpering, trying desperately to take more of him. "There you go, there's your cock. How's that cock feel?"

"Oh, God," I moaned, rolling my hips into him, squeezing tightly around him. It felt good. No, better than that. Fucking amazing. Words. What are words again? I moaned louder.

He moved inside me, his hand wandering over my body, pinching my nipple, then pressing against my face, pushing my head into the mattress by my face. A deep, guttural noise came from me, lower than a scream but just as long. "Oh God, oh my God," I chanted, my words distorted by his hand pressing the side of my mouth out of shape.

"Mine," he said, calmly, clearly, as he kept pressing into my face, his hips pressing mine down as well. Resting on his elbow, he locked his other hand behind my head, taking a fistful of my hair and pulling it hard, my head trapped between the force of his hand in my hair and his other hand on my face. I screamed as he moved, his body surging into me relentlessly, his fingers regularly tightening in my hair.

He let go, balanced on his hands, looking down at me, driving into me slowly. "My girl likes a nice slow fuck, doesn't she?"

"Fuck, yes," I whispered. I lifted my legs up, bending my knees, opening myself to him even more. I grabbed my feet and pulled up, pressing my knees into his sides. I was rewarded with a deep groan from him.

"Ohhh this is my fuck hole, isn't it?" he asked, his eyes boring down into me.

"I am yours," I answered, moaning constantly. My legs began to ache after a while and I lowered them, driving my heels into the mattress to lift my body up to his - higher, higher, and he was surging into me deliberately, emptying himself into my body and moaning loudly, his pleasure quite obvious. I squeezed him against me. He rolled off me.

"Can I close my legs now?" I asked softly, meekly.

"You may close your legs," he agreed. I did and rolled onto my side, facing away from him. He snaked his hand around my waist and pulled me tight to him, then slipped his hand between my legs from behind, sliding his thumb easily into my pussy.

"Ohhh," I groaned, surprised. His fingers began slowly stroking my clit, and I rolled more onto my stomach, letting him have his way with me as I lifted my hips in the air.

"My puppet. My sweet little fuck puppet," he whispered into my ear, driving his thumb deeper into me, making my body move to his command. I whimpered.

"Oh, you like being my fuck puppet, don't you?" He twisted his hand for emphasis.

"Yes sir," I moaned, my hips dancing with his motions.

"Mmmmm," he said, the simple vibrations in my ear making me shiver. I was quickly approaching orgasm and his words were only driving me faster.

"Come for me, girl," he whispered in my ear. I did. I screamed, kicking, pulling away from him, my leg vibrating as I came for him.

"Good girl," he said, not stopping his movements, his voice continuing to say sexy things in my ear, my body dancing on the end of his hand like the puppet he'd decided I was. "Good girl comes when she's told, and all I have to do is say, 'come for me,' isn't that right? Come for me," he whispered roughly in my ear, triggering another orgasm, more screams, more kicking.

He didn't stop. He kept going. I was a mass of nerve endings, a screaming, writhing mass of open emotions and sensitivities and he just kept touching me there, in that spot that made it all so fucking good, his thumb buried inside me giving me a sense of fullness that made it all that much better.

"Girl likes orgasms," he noted, his detachment somehow making my state of completely helpless arousal all the more arousing.

"I can't.. I can't," I begged, too sensitive, too many orgasms having taken their toll. Wait, did I say too many orgasms? No such thing.

"Yes you can. You know you can. Don't lie to me, fuckhole."

My head took over from there.

Don't lie to him, fuckhole.

Don't lie to him, fuckhole.

Don't lie to him, fuckhole.

I came, screaming, the most powerful one yet shaking my body, my legs going completely out of my control. My head was pounding with the force of the blood rushing through it. "Oh my God," I whispered shakily as I came down from it. As a credit to his empathic abilities, he did stop then, pulling me close to him and rubbing my body, kissing my neck, whispering words of love and praise. He's pretty awesome at aftercare. Hell, he's pretty awesome at most things.

"I love you," he said softly into my ear, as we were falling asleep. "Don't quit me."

For the record, I would never, ever quit him. We go together.

So I am not allowed to quit - at least not without discussion and a valid reason beyond "I think you're not into me."

And me? I am okay with that. Better than okay. Thrilled. I may have started all this, but it is not okay for me to end it.

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."

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.

A night to remember: The spanking

Yesterday, I spent a good deal of time with a butt plug inside me. I sent my husband a message telling him I had it in, and his response was. "Ah. Is good?"

"Sometimes, I think you don't know what to do with me," I replied.

"Maybe just not when I'm not with you."

Which is funny, considering how our relationship began, but skills fade without practice.

---

We've had a lot of exhausted nights since we got back from vacation, and I'd asked him if we couldn't just go to bed early. As good as all of our sex is, exhausted sex does not hold a candle to its prettier and more all-around fabulous cousin, fully awake, aware, and frisky sex. I love going to bed early - I'd do it every day if I could. It doesn't always work out that way. Thankfully, this time it did.

The lights stayed on, which promotes staying awake as well as emphasizes my submission. I can't hide from him when the lights are on. He held me in the curve of his arm and we kissed, hesitantly at first. We'd spent quite some time talking already and the transition period was a little odd. He pulled his mouth away from mine after a while, his hands gliding over the fabric of my shirt not providing the same thrill for either of us that the delicious slide of skin on skin could.

"Take your clothes off so I can touch you better," he said firmly. I sat up and slowly pulled off my shirt, and his hands roamed over my skin as I lay back down next to him, raising goosebumps all over me. "Good fuck toy," he praised me, tracing his fingertips lightly along my back, my arms, then trailing them down to gently rub against my ass. "How does this ass feel about being flogged?"

"Okay.." I ventured.

"Just okay? Doesn't your ass want to be flogged? Not hurt - not yet. Just gently flogged."

"Yes," I whispered. I don't even remember the last time I was flogged, but I probably wrote about it.

He got the flogger out and started using it, really really gently, so gently in fact that it just felt like soft silken hairs sweeping across my backside. I sighed. It felt nice. "Yeah, see, your ass likes that. Does it hurt?" he asked. His other hand rested on my arm, providing me with his love and warmth.

"Not at all," I said, wriggling a little with anticipation of what he'd do with that information.

He slowly increased the strength he put into it, and I was lifting my ass into the strikes of the flogger, moaning a little with the good pain, soft silky impacts that felt amazing, when he stopped. His hand replaced the flogger, and he gave me firm taps just hard enough to raise a little gasp from me at each one, all over my backside.

"Does this hurt?" he asked, seeing my response.

"Just a little," I said, as he continued, a little faster now, and I felt the heat building, building, a rosy blush beginning to form that he could see too.

"Ah, look, this ass is getting a little red now," he informed me, switching back to the flogger, bringing it across my ass and thighs. I squirmed in earnest now, he was hitting hard enough and my skin was sensitive enough to really feel it all. Little breaths whooshed out of me just behind each whoosh of the flogger. Whoosh, smack, breathe, squirm, an irresistible rhythm to which I couldn't help but dance. A squeal crept in now and then.

He started a new rhythm, with his hand again, and I purred as he rained blows down on me, alternating cheeks. "Does your ass hurt now?" he asked.

"Yes, a little," I confirmed, wriggling as he spanked me.

"Just a little?" he asked, and then he hit me with the wooden spoon. I screamed; I hadn't been expecting that. He hit me with it again and again and my feet came halfway up, but I stopped them from coming all the way up. He hit me right on the sit spots, and all over my ass. I buried my face in the mattress to muffle my screams. "Oh, I don't think your ass likes this spoon at all," he said.

"It doesn't!" I cried.

"Your ass hasn't missed the spoon too?" he said, tapping several sharp blows onto the canvas of my backside.

"No, no!" I assured him, shaking my ass back and forth to try to relieve the sharp burning.

"Hm." He put the spoon down and stroked my ass with his hand gingerly, seeming to pay special attention to the marks left by the spoon, making me whimper. "So, you filled yourself up today, huh?"

I was disoriented, then realizing what he meant. "Yes sir."

"You don't think you should have asked for permission first?" His hand resumed slapping my ass now, medium-strength strikes that allowed him to hit pretty fast and built up even more warmth.

"Noo," I moaned softly. I hadn't thought he'd care.

"No? You think it's okay to just take something that's mine and shove something into it? Really?"

"No sir," I whispered as I squirmed under the spanking he was delivering.

"I suppose I don't require you to ask permission to eat. Is that what you thought you were doing? Feeding your ass?" A particularly hard smack of his hand punctuated the question.

"No sir," I squealed.

"Just trying to make yourself feel good, all filled up, huh?"

"Yes sir."

His hand stroked my burning backside gently as he responded. "Well, I think you should ask for permission next time, okay?"

His words set off a shudder deep within me and I groaned, long and low. "Yes sir," I managed to agree as I trembled.

"Good fuck toy," he said as he stroked my hair, his words escalating my trembling to an uncontrollable level.

The spoon slapped into my ass again, a sharp smack echoing in my ears. "Oh, God," I squealed. It hurt so freaking much. "Isn't it interesting," he started, smacking the spoon into my ass several more times as I squealed with the pain, "how something so simple as a wooden spoon can hurt so much," he placed the rounded edge of the lovely piece of craftsmanship against the back of my neck, and slowly dragged it down my spine, making me inhale raggedly multiple times in anticipation. He hit me with it when he reached my ass, my ragged breathing turning into a ragged cry. He continued his thought as he put the spoon down "when something designed to deliver pain, like this flogger," he brushed it across my back, "doesn't hurt that much at all?" He landed a few delicious blows of it across my ass, making me sigh deeply.

"I just think that's interesting," he finished. He laid the flogger down and started with the spoon again. "Oh My God," I cried out.

"My ass!" he said, as he hit my ass with that spoon on every available surface, "Mine!" echoing each sharp crack of wood against flesh. "Mine! Mine! Mine!"

"Oh fuck," I whispered between my squeals. It always melts me beyond reason when he starts claiming me like that.

When he'd covered my ass in strikes to his satisfaction, he started smacking me with his hand again. I whined, shaking my ass back and forth trying to get away from him.

"Turn over," he finally decided.

It hurt. My ass burned. I paused for breath before I moved and he slapped me again. "Turn over!" he repeated.

"It hurts," I whined, rolling onto my side, my back toward him.

"Mmhmm, I know," he said smoothly, his hand snaking around to my front to toy gently with my nipples. I jumped and moved back against him, my burning backside rubbing against his hard cock. I jumped again at the contact. "Writhe in pain while I play with you," he whispered into my ear, gently rolling and tugging on my nipple. "Go on, baby, writhe."

I whimpered and did indeed writhe, between the joyous torment of his fingers on my nipples and the pressing of his cock against my sore ass. "I think I have a ruler here for your nipples," he said after a while, tugging gently on one as he spoke. I shuddered and a little yelp of fright escaped me. "Aww, are you afraid of the ruler?" he asked, bringing it out - a wide, solid plastic one.

"I am," I whispered. Afraid, yes, but so very very turned on.

He pulled me back a little more onto my back, the firm pressure of his hand allowing no resistance on my part, and he started tapping the ruler lightly all over my breast, much as he has done with the crop. I sighed with the pleasure of it, even as I tensed my body for more to come. "There, that's nothing to be afraid of, is it?"

And then he really started on my nipples - slapping slapping slapping, harder and harder, resting at a point of intensity just below screaming, keeping that level up, not changing, until even that became unbearable and I screamed. "Oh, I could do this all night," he assured me, keeping it up as I tossed my head and screamed little panting screams, my right hand clutching at his back as my left one made balls of the sheet.

His lips claimed mine and we kissed, hotly, as he kept landing blows expertly on my nipples. I squealed into his mouth over and over.

Minutes, hours, days later, he put the ruler down and then his hand smacked into my breast, the palm centered on my nipple. I groaned deeply. "Mine!" he whispered, claiming my lips again as he squeezed my breast, then spanked it several more times. Oh, so much arousal he was generating in me. Kissing, spanking, torture, and talk of ownership and sex, interspersed with gentle goosebump-raising caresses. Oh, how I wanted him.

"I know what you need," he finally said, pulling his mouth away...

The rest of the story is lots and lots of sex, and is here.

Hard flogging's the charm

"Aren't you going to turn off the light?" I ask my husband as we climb into bed.

"I am not," he says, his face appearing over mine. "I have plans." He grins disarmingly.

I whine a little. He mimics me, turning his voice to a bit higher pitch. "'Oh, but huuusband, it's late and I'm tired and I just want to sleeeeeep,' is that right?"

I laugh, but nod. It is late, and I am tired.

"I suppose you could try to sleep through what I have planned," he says, pulling my legs open. "I don't think you need sleep though. I think you need a beating." His hand crashes into my tender inner thigh and I yelp.

"Oh, that hurts!" I cry out.

"Mmm, does it?" He does it again.

"Shit! It really hurts!" I beg, squealing, trying to close my legs. Both my thighs have received several blows now and they burn and tingle.

"Poor thing, it's been too long and your body's not used to it, is it?" he asks. "I'll go easy on you for a bit." He pushes my shirt up to expose my breasts, and slaps at my nipple gently. "That feel familiar to you?" I groan softly. He slaps my nipple again and again. My body bucks as the burn sets in, and then he is reaching over me. He pulls the crop from behind my head. "This is a good way to take it easy on you," he says, running the crop over my breasts. He covers my entire breast in little taps that make me sigh, but my legs still burn and I whimper. "That doesn't hurt, does it?" he asks.

"Not yet," I respond.

"Then why are you whimpering?" he asks as he amps up the slaps, each little slap biting into me a little bit and making me cry out now.

"My thighs still burn."

"Poor thing," he says. He hits a nipple particularly hard and I twist toward him, a little scream on my lips. He grabs my leg. "Oh, what's this?" he says, rubbing his hand all over my ass. "I think it's an ass. And I think I know what your ass hasn't had in a long time." He turns away toward the nightstand drawer, and I bury my face in my pillow.

"C'mon, show me that ass," he says. I lay flat on my stomach and lift my ass in the air a little. He hits me with our softest flogger and I moan. Again. Again. He hits me until my skin burns and I am lifting my ass for more strikes when he stops, letting his fingers stroke delicately over my backside. I moan; it feels incredibly sensitive there, but I am not ready for this. I'm not ready for him to stop flogging me. "I smell sex," he whispers to me, making me flush hotly. "Someone's enjoying herself. Do you need more?"

"Yes sir," I whisper, so glad my hot face is hidden in the pillow, so glad I don't have to meet his gaze when I answer that question.

The flogger hits me again, and though it is the same soft flogger that I love, he is swinging it hard, and my backside is so sensitive already it feels incredibly harsh as it lands on me again and again. I lift my ass higher, he hits the backs of my thighs and my sit spot and I groan with pleasure. Oh, how wonderful it feels. He stops again, his fingers making me gasp when they touch my hot skin.

Then he does something I am not expecting. I feel the crop bite into my tenderized backside and I yelp. "Oh, that hurts, huh?" he says, as he paints my entire ass with the harsh bite of the crop. I am wriggling and squirming and practically screaming. It hurts. I can deal, but it's an altogether different sort of hurt. It amazes me how he can keep finding different applications of the same tools. I have inhaled sharply so many times I have drawn lots of my own hair into my mouth. I am panting and writhing with the pain, unable to hold still, when he finally puts the crop down.

"Turn over." I slowly lift my head and pull my hair out of my face and mouth before I obey, turning to face him. He kisses me, his lips soft and warm and insistent.

"Take off your shirt," he orders, his dominance sending a thrill through me. I sigh softly as I sit up and do as he requested. "Oh, you don't want to lose that protection, do you?" he asks as I lie back down, his hands touching my shoulder and back. He kisses me again, hugging me close. "Not that it's really protection. Just nasty barriers keeping me from touching you."

"Show me those breasts again," he says. I have been lying with my arms crossed over them. I tremble as I open my arms, and he starts slapping the crop gently all over my breasts in a rhythm only he knows, slap slap slap slap SLAP.

He keeps going, and the sting builds each time he whacks the crop into a nipple, a loud squeal on my part announcing the difference in the pain. Eventually it hurts too much, and after a particularly hard blow, for the first time in recent memory, my hands fly up to protectively clasp my breasts.

I tremble, whimpering with anticipation, as he runs the crop gently over my cheek. He must be looking into my face, but my eyes are glued shut. I couldn't open them with heavy duty tools. "You afraid?" he asks me as he hears my breath quicken.

"Yes sir," I barely whisper.

"You should be," he says, running the tip of the crop across my other cheek. He slides it down to my hands, still clutched over my breasts. "Move your hands," he commands, brushing the crop along the back of my arm.

I can't do it. I don't move. "Move your hands," he repeats, slapping the crop against the back of my hand. I whine with the sting of it and let my hands fall to my sides. "Good girl."

The crop dances over my breasts again, touching hard on a nipple now and then and drawing a yelp from me amongst the other various cries I am making. I twist repeatedly, but manage to get back into position somehow.

I can't bear any more, my nipples are both on fire. He puts down the crop and slaps my breasts full-on. I groan. "Are you my cockslut?" he asks softly, dangerously.

"I am," I whisper.

"Then you won't mind sucking my cock for me."

Mm. No. I don't mind.

---

He finishes in my mouth and praises me as I lie there with his leg over my shoulder, his hands stroke my hair as we both catch our breath. "Good fuck toy," he breathes, and I shudder at the words. He must feel my shudder because he continues. "Good cock slut, good fuck hole. Good wife," he whispers, each phrase sinking into my psyche and making my body shake with barely contained arousal. I whimper at his words, nestling my face closer into his thigh, trying to merge my body with his, to melt into him.

"Mmm, come here, fuck toy," he says, tugging on my shoulder. I whine, happy being held by his leg. "Aww, are you happy being held there like that?"  I nod as I crawl up his body and he takes me in his arms. "But my arms aren't that long, girl, and my hands weren't done with you." I moan as he slides his fingers into my pussy, his thumb dancing over my clit. It feels divine. He rests his other hand on my throat, pressing it gently to the bed, and his mouth goes after my nipple, tormenting it with his teeth. I groan loudly, bucking under him. I love that I can't lift my head although I want to so desperately. I love the pain of his teeth gently biting into my nipple. I love the pleasure his other hand is dealing to my nether regions. I writhe as best I can under his ministrations, and I am making a lot of noise.

"You're hurting me," I manage to vocalize as he bites particularly hard on my nipple, sucking it deeply into his mouth.

He pulls his mouth away from me. "Exactly where am I hurting you, my girl?"

"My nipple," I exhale on a moan as his fingers impale me.

"This nipple right here?" he says, biting into it even harder.

"Uhhh, yes," I cry out.

"Mmmmmmm, good," he says, fastening his lips back around it and continuing on like I never said anything.

I am thinking about how divine it all feels and how much I'd like it to go on forever when suddenly, I explode. I am writhing all over the place, crying out from the increased sensitivity, trying to get away. He rolls to his side, holds me tight against his body and keeps his hand moving on my sex. "Look at you go, girl," he whispers into my ear as I lose my mind again.


"Did my poor girl think she'd have to go another night unfucked?" he asks me as he slowly strokes my sensitive flesh, soothing it as it pulses. I nod against his shoulder. "Poor thing," he says, kissing me, "now you'll just have another night unslept."


I by far prefer the latter. 

Flogged 'til it hurts

We watched The Princess Bride, and afterward, my husband pulled out the glow in the dark rope. "It's been a long time since I've tied you up," he said to me, "I should practice."

He admitted that now when he sees someone tied up in a movie, he thinks about me, and gets a little turned on himself, thinking about what I might be thinking.

So he started binding my wrists behind me, but the position was hurting my shoulders something terrible, and he conceded the point and tied my hands together in front of me instead, tugging the final knot tight. He turned me on stomach and started flogging me. "I'm not going to hurt you at all," he said, a grin in his voice, "since you say floggers don't hurt."

"I'm sure you can hurt me if you keep going hard enough," I responded, little gasps escaping me as he brought the softest of our floggers down on my ass again and again. When I started to whimper, he switched, going back into our drawer, pulling more floggers out. I saw he had the long paracord one in his hand and I gasped. "That one hurts. That one has always hurt."

"Oh really? Huh." Kneeling on the bed next to me, he applied the ouchy flogger to my already tender backside. I groaned, twisted, my feet occasionally rising up into the air. It's so pretty but it has such a hard bite to it, and he was in a position where he could keep going for a while, so he did. I broke out into a sweat, my clenching hands sliding against each other in their forced proximity.

When he'd tenderized me and I was squirming and gasping, trying my hardest not to drag myself away with my bound hands, he put the flogger down and switched to a softer one, but heavier than the first one he'd been using. I lifted my ass into the air, waiting, begging for more of it. Oh, that one's my favorite. Thud, thud, thud, stroooke. Oh, yes. I purred.

He went back to the drawer, and he pulled out the tickler and the wooden spoon. I saw him and I whimpered, hiding my face in my bound fists.

"Mmmm," he said, stroking my ass gently with his fingers, "should I be good," he ran the tickler lightly over my red ass, making me sigh softly, "or bad?" he ran the wooden spoon over the same flesh, pressing just hard enough for me to feel the smoothness of it.

"Good... or bad?" he repeated the action. Tickler, spoon, good, bad, oh God, I was breathing so quickly, nervous, waiting for the first strike of that spoon to smack into me. He built that anticipation to a fever pitch, and then he peppered me all over with light taps of the spoon, covering the canvas of my ass in little light smacks that felt pretty nice, actually. "That doesn't hurt, does it?" he asked as I sighed with a bit of relief.

"No sir," I said.

"Hm, so, I think I've decided. I'll be good," he said, brushing the tickler across my lower back, making me sigh softly again, "and bad!" SLAP went the wooden spoon against my burning ass. Oh, God. I bit back a scream, the bulk of it still escaping through my clenched lips.

"Mm, that hurt, huh?" he said, brushing the tickler across me, then smacking the spoon into my skin again in another spot, another scream forced from behind my closed lips into my clasped hands. I kicked. He kept it up, the tickler followed by the spoon, all over my ass. I was whimpering with the pain when he finally stopped.

He followed that with hard hand spankings, making me wonder if the spanking would ever, ever end. By this time I was really feeling the helplessness of my bound hands.

"You think you can turn over?" he asked me, pressing his lips to mine for a long, soft, heated kiss. "You think your ass can handle that?" I nodded slowly and twisted onto my back as he pulled his face away from mine.

"Oh look, all these buttons! When the lights are off I can't see them, but I can see them now." My arms over my head, out of his way, I was helpless as he undid my buttons and pulled the top of my shirt open, gently moving the fabric to both sides to expose both my breasts. He took a nipple in his mouth, sucked on it hard, biting at it to make me squeal, then slapped that breast a few times.

He knocked my legs open quickly, stroked my inner thigh gently, gazing into my eyes. "Your leg is sensitive here," he mused, listening to my quickened breath as his fingertips on my skin gave me chills. "It hurts you when I hit you here."

I nodded.

"Are you afraid I'm going to hit you here?" he asked, not varying his gentle strokes.

"Yes sir."

"You should be," he  whispered, slapping me there sharply. He hit my inner thighs until I twisted, trying to close my legs, little reedy screams escaping from me, and then he shoved my legs open again and kept doing it, climbing between my legs to keep them open, continuing on with the harsh slaps to my sensitive places. I struggled, my legs raising up around him.

He leaned over me, grabbed my breasts, squeezed them together and kneaded them firmly, biting at and sucking my nipples before he would sit back up and slap my breasts more. I bucked beneath him, gasping with pleasure and pain, my legs trying to wrap around him when he was leaning over. So good, and so intense. I could feel his hard cock nudging at my pussy, and I wanted it. I tried humping up at him.

"If I was a nice man, I'd give you my cock. I'm not a nice man. But I am a horny man, and that may just be close enough for you." He slid the head of his cock inside me, pumping just that bit slowly while my body rose up, begging for more. "Is there a problem, slut?"

"Want more cock," I panted, trying really hard to lift my hips enough. I couldn't grab him, my hands were tied. He just kept slipping the head of his cock in and out of me, rubbing it against my opening while it was inside, making me groan with want and arch up to him.

"Mmm, but I like it like this," he said, resting his head next to mine briefly, his hot breath in my ear making me shiver, "and isn't that what you're for? For me to use for my pleasure?"

"Yes sir," I said, biting back a whimper of need.

"Mmm, but, I suppose it might feel good to be more inside you too. You're a lucky girl that I'm so horny," he informed me as he oh-so-slowly sank his length all the way into me, a deep groan of contentment issuing from him as he did.

I answered with a similar pleased noise and ground my hips up against him, wanting to grab his hips and pull him to me, pulling against my ropes. "Lucky girl," I panted, "thank you."

He fucked me slowly, grinding down into me. My eyes closed from the intensity of the experience, and I heard him as he chanced to glance down at me, writhing underneath him, my arms bound and stretched over my head, my shirt open to my navel exposing both my breasts. "Oh, look at you, slut, all tied up and on display for me," he said, making me moan softly at being so bare before him.

He ground into me, and slowly grabbed a nipple and squeezed, increasing the pressure until I screamed and then softly whined as he continued to move inside of me, not letting it go.  He'd release it, do the same with the other one, then start the cycle over, making me undulate underneath him with pain and desire.

He pulled his cock away from me sometime later and I gasped, wanting. He ignored my whimpers of desire and sat atop me, trapping me between his thighs, while he slapped my breasts. Oh God, I could see him, sitting straight and tall straddling my hips, his hand coming down to strike my breasts. He was looking back at me too, and I shivered as our eyes met, rocking at the impacts to my body.

He moved up a bit more, slid his hard cock, slick with my juices, into my mouth. I sucked it down greedily, as far as I could. I couldn't lift myself to him. Oh, God, the helplessness of not being able to use my hands. He lifted my head, supported it as he fucked me in the face. "Is that good, fuck toy?" he asked me as he pressed into the back of my throat, making me gag and choke.

He pulled away, leaving my mouth a round 'O' of desire, and sat on my stomach, started slapping my breasts again. "Oh, you didn't get enough cock, did you?" he asked as I whimpered. I shook my head.

He slid back into my mouth, pushing my pillow under my head to allow him a better angle. "Is that better, cocksucker? Does that let you get more cock in your face?"

"Mmf, mmf, mmf, mmhmm," I managed.

He pulled away again, sitting up and slapping my breasts yet again. Wow. Half-crazed lusty whimpers emerged from me, animalistic cries of need.

"You still want the cock, don't you?" he observed, brilliantly. "Yeah, we should give you more cock."

He rolled off to the side, telling me to turn and take him in my mouth.

Oh, yes. Oh, fuck, yes.

I sucked him all the way in, my hands still tied and above my head. Oh, God, how I wanted to pull him close to me. I felt his arm near my hands and I clutched at it as I sucked him.

His hands pushed on my head, shoving his cock into my throat. Lovely. He talked to me as I sucked. "You were such a good fuck toy to me this morning," he said, making me scream as he recalled what had happened. "You didn't get to enjoy me much, but I needed to get off, and you got me off, didn't you? What a good little fuck hole you are." I squealed around his cock at that, so very very aroused. "Yeah, you like being my good little fuck hole, don't you, slut?"

Oh, God, yes. Yes.

"How would your pussy like to be fucked?" he asked me after a while. I made a pleased noise around his cock, but made no effort to move. "Turn over then," he told me, pinching hard on my nipple in order to get me to move.

I turned over, and then he was pressing his cock effortlessly into my soaking pussy from behind, and I was moaning, lost.

Ages later, his fingers found their way inside me, sliding into my pussy and ass, stroking my clit. Oh, how lovely the double penetration of his fingers feels. So amazing as my body clings to him while he pulls away.

Orgasms came and washed me away, and then we slept, after he'd untied me.

We woke not long after that, and we kissed and kissed, and he told me to turn over and take him, and oh yes, I was ready for him.

So glad my sexual self has come back to play.

Early edition

"I still haven't read your blog post," my husband said, snuggling up to my back in bed. "Though I can't read today's one, as that's scheduled for tomorrow...." He trailed his fingertips down my side, making me shiver. "Though, I think I can experience tomorrow's blog post, today." I burst into giggles at that, the reference to the TV show not lost on me. "That's a neat trick, isn't it?" he asked, his voice raised a little so I could hear him over the giggles shaking me.

"You're funny. I like that about you," I said, as I gained control of my voice.

"You should turn over." I did, rolling into his arms. "I dunno why you like to face the wall like that anyway," he mused as he squeezed me close to him.

A behavior to correct? I'm on it.

He started stroking me, asking me what I was thinking about. I wouldn't share. His hands wandered over my body, and I kept my noises down to quick inhales and exhales as the sensations chased each other. "Are you sad, love? You seem sad," he commented as he gazed at me in the candlelight.

"Am I?" I asked, expertly avoiding the question. Or not.

He pulled my legs open and slapped his hand down on my inner thigh, hard, and my noises were much more than loud breathing then. He slapped me there more times and I whimpered, my body arching, rocking back and forth. "Oh, don't you like it when I hurt you, slut?" he asked. I was just tossing my head back and forth. He apparently didn't need an answer, as he slapped my other thigh hard. "Of course you do!" he answered himself. "You like my attention, don't you?"

"Yesss," I managed, my legs closing themselves for protection. I forced them back open and he hit me again.

"Any kind of attention I want to give you, isn't that right?" I'd just put moisturizer on my legs, it's so dry here. Something about the moisturizer made those slaps on my thighs sting so incredibly. I nodded, a little high-pitched wail coming from me as my legs flapped open and closed, trying to relieve the sting.

"Turn over and let me give your ass some, then," he said. I turned over, just the rush of air against my freshly-spanked thighs making me moan softly.

And then he was spanking me with his hand.

Then the tickler, making me purr. "You like that?" he asked, then put it away. "I should save that for later, after your ass is sore. I'm gonna make your ass sore, right, love?" he said. I nodded, because I was sure if that was his intent he would do it.

Then a flogger. He stopped after several strokes. I could see his flickering shadow on the wall next to me, pulling another flogger from the drawer, straightening it out. He hit me with it. I love that one. It hurts and feels amazing all at the same time. He hit me with it for quite some time, I didn't count though.

He stopped, stroking my ass gently, dropping little kisses on it, listening to me purr. "I'm going to hurt your ass now, love," he said, waiting for my whimper of anticipation before his hand smacked me several times. Oh, the hand is amazing.

His hand tired, and he switched to a flogger again, smacking it into my ass and the backs of my thighs....

"You're hurting me," I whined at one point.

"Oh, I know," he responed, crooning, "isn't that what your ass is for? Well, that and being fucked..." I shivered as his words impacted me along with the flogger, so very very turned on.

On and on and on and on and on like that. I wasn't thinking about anything else anymore. My universe had narrowed to just the two of us, just the sensations, just his words.

I was in a position with my ass all the way up, and he said, "Oooh, maybe you want a different kind of attention, huh?" as he put down the flogger he'd been hitting me across the backs of my thighs with. His fingers found their way to my pussy and played there briefly, stroking my clit, sliding a finger inside me, making me purr.

"You want to be full, don't you?" he asked me.

"Mmmhmm," I responded.

"I'm going to fill your ass up, then," he said confidently.

I whimpered. He moved, got the plug and the lube, and came back, draping one arm around the small of my back, holding me down as he slowly slipped a lubed finger inside me, readying me for invasion. "My ass," he said as I moaned.

He pressed the slippery plug into me, and I moaned. "Nononono," I whimpered, shaking my head, trying to buck as the plug invaded me slowly. I couldn't buck because his arm held me down.

"You saying no to your master?" he asked, holding me down as he pushed the plug about halfway in, then moving up so his face was next to my ear.

"No sir," I said.

"Good girl. Don't," he said as he pressed it inexorably into me. "Take the whole thing in your ass, girl, go on.."

"Uhhhh uh uh," I groaned, as he kept pressing. "Too big," I complained as it reached the widest part, stretching me to my own limit.

"Oh, no it isn't," he said, pressing it all the way in. I groaned in relief as the muscle was allowed to contract around the neck of the plug. "See? There it is, plenty of room in you."

I moaned, my face buried in the pillow, tossing my head, tossing my hips back and forth. "Full, full, full," I chanted.

"You know what I think?" he asked, rubbing my back firmly. "I think you should stop complaining so much and stick a cock in it."

I moaned into the pillow and started obediently scooting down, the movement made more awkward by the size of the plug. I was slow, and the entire situation had me so aroused that I stopped every inch or so, humping the bed and moaning. "You nice and full, girl?" he asked me as he noted my lack of progress. I just moaned again and made my slow way to his cock, opening my mouth when I got there and sucking it in, swirling my tongue around it, shuddering. "Mmm, goood girl," he said, his hands in my hair.

I was still mostly on my stomach, leaning over to suck his cock. I felt how incredibly wet I was as he grabbed my head and held it still, thrusting into my face. I humped the bed, which seemed like the thing to do since my head couldn't move. Oh, that felt nice. I groaned as each movement of my hips emphasized the presence of that plug. Finally, he released my head and let me move up and down his cock, pausing once in a while to let a shudder of desire and invasion wrack my body, accompanied by a long loud groan. Sucking his cock with the plug in is so amazing and makes me so incredibly wet, it's like my pussy is going "Me too, me too, fuck me too! I'm fuckable!"

"You ready to have your pussy fucked yet?" he asked me as I sucked. I moaned, sucked harder. "Oh, I know, it's so hard for my slut's horny face to stop sucking the cock..."

He pulled away from me, and I planted wet kisses all along the bottom of his shaft. He got up, walked around the bed, put the Liberator ramp on it. "Go on, you know where you go," he said, standing there, waiting for me. I felt incredibly exposed with that plug sticking out of me, but I climbed up on it, face down, ass up toward him. "You think there's room in there for me?" he asked me, pressing the head of his cock against the entrance of my pussy, rubbing it around in my extreme wetness.

"No," I murmured, muffled by the ramp, with my face pressed into it.

"Oh, I'm sure there is," and he was pressing his cock into my wet, wet pussy. I moaned as I felt my body give way to his hardness despite the fullness already present.

"There you are, baby, nice and full," he whispered, moving slowly. "Yeah, that's one full pussy all right..." he reached down and grabbed a handful of my hair, pulling my head up, wrapping his other hand around my throat, leaning over and pulling my back against his front for a brief moment of shared warmth.

-----

"You ready for my cock in your ass, baby?" he asked after a while.

"Uhhh, uh-huh," I stammered, not entirely certain that I was. But I don't get to say no, you know. Thrill. He slowly withdrew, and his hand pulled on the plug, making me scream as I was stretched wide to allow it out again. "Oh, oh, oh, oh... ohhhhhh," I groaned as it finally slid out.

He lubed me a little more, and then he slid into my ass, and it felt lovely, but the position is hard for anal, making it hurt long before it should.

It had only been a few minutes before I felt I couldn't handle it like that anymore. "It's too much, too much for me," I pleaded with him, pleasure and pain mixing, but pain winning as he moved too quickly for me and it burned and ached.

"You don't get to decide when it's too much," he said, gripping my hips and thrusting, "you just get to take it. So take it, slut, take it." He spanked me a few times for good measure, adding a "Mine!" to the mix.

I could handle it, I thought. I didn't need to safe word. It was actually kind of turning me on more to be ignored like that, which was his goal of course. I bore up under the thrusts for a while longer, whining, before I collapsed forward onto the ramp, my body winning the mind/body battle and trying to relieve the pain.

"You trying to get away from me?" he asked incredulously, following me with a long thrust, not letting his cock slip from my ass. Oh, sweet, lovely relief from pain, though, the position we were in now felt just fantastic, and I moaned, spreading my legs wider.

"No, no, I'm sorry," I grunted as he continued moving.

"That's right, you can't get away from me, you're mine," he whispered roughly into my ear, making me cry out as he ground into me.

"Mmhmm, you can fuck me anywhere you like, anytime you like, any way you like," I groaned in response, making sure he knew I knew, that I hadn't been trying to get away.

"That's right, baby," he agreed, moving faster and faster, the sounds of his hips smacking into my ass filling my ears.

When he came, it was loudly, my legs curling, lifting into the air to either side of us, aided in that position by the tilt of the ramp.

"I'm going to lie down with you now," he said, then laid on top of me, pressing me into the ramp. I'd have been okay with that, except his face was keeping me from getting any air, and I needed lots of it, breathing hard as I was.

"I can't breathe, love," I said.

He laughed. "Mmm, I'm moving." He rolled to my side, next to the ramp, and I just stayed there, gasping for air, my legs returning to the air because it was incredibly easy for them to be there with the ramp tilting me like that.

"You're not lying dowwwwn," he said. "You're just lying on this ramp with your legs in the air, like you still need fucking or something...." his hand moved to my pussy and I gasped loudly as he brushed the sensitive folds. "Ohh, I see, you do still need fucking," he said, and proceeded to slide his thumb inside me, making me groan. I love that thumb very very much, love the stretch of the base of his hand pressing into me. His fingers stroked my clit and when I came, not screaming but groaning deeply, my legs arched even more, my head moving back to meet them as I trembled. I didn't quite make a ring of myself, but surely it was a close thing.

I like the early edition blog posts the best.

Bad, bad man

It was late when we went to bed Friday, and I was just a little sad, because we had to get up early and would more than likely be too exhausted on Saturday for anything to happen (we were, too). I curled into a little ball facing away from him, not wanting to seem too needy, knowing if I touched him that I would explode with want.

"Turn over," he told me, not liking my curled-away posture. I rolled to my back, his arm under my head.

"All the way, so I can hold you properly. Even if you don't like it."

I obeyed, resting my head on his chest, a little sad still. "I do like for you to hold me."

"Even if part of you doesn't want to right now?"

"I do want to..."

He started gently stroking my hair, kissing the top of my head. "Take off your clothes," he said after a few minutes of that. I slid off my night shirt, not really expecting anything to come of it.

"Good girl."

"My naked girl."

Holding me in one arm, he started hitting my breasts with the other, over and over, pushing moans of varying intensity out of me. "Good naked girl." He hit me on the inside of my forearm, where it rested on the bed, and I gasped. "Mine!" He slapped my breasts back and forth, not stopping, not letting me absorb the experience, just inundating me with the blows. I moaned constantly.

"I like these breasts, I like these nipples." He got a gear tie out and tightened it around my nipple, making me whimper with the pain, squeezing it tight.

"Turn over, naked girl, so I can give your ass some attention. And you'll let me know if that thing comes off your nipple, right?"

I turned over as he requested, my nipple with the tie squeezed around it smashing into the mattress.

"I'm going to fuck this ass." He spanked me with his hand. "But not yet."

"Is your mouth ready to be my pussy?"
"You're my little fuck toy, I like to use your mouth as a fuck hole."

More. It seemed he kept ramping up the intensity of what he was saying to see what kind of physical reaction he would get from me. He got a lot of them... then he rolled me onto my back, his fingers found their way between my thighs and he played with my pussy, sliding his fingers into me slowly and gliding his thumb delicately across my clit.

"What could be better than this? Could having that thing off your nipple, maybe?"

"No..."

"Oh, no? Hm. I know! Having your face fucked would be better, right? After all," he whispered roughly into my ear, his fingers making me gasp and moan and arch helplessly at the pleasure, "this only gives you pleasure. And having your face fucked gives me pleasure. Isn't that better?"

"Yes sir," I whimpered, out of my mind, tossing my head.

"Do you want your face fucked, or do you want that thing off your nipple?"

"Fuck my face, please.."

"Mmm, you really want your face fucked, huh? OR... do you just not feel it anymore?" He reached over and squeezed the tie together around my nipple, making me scream. "Oh, huh. That hurts, doesn't it?"

Finally, he let me slide down and suck his cock. He held the back of my head and I made all those happy noises I always make, gripping him with my hands.

He came down my throat, ages later. He started to pull away from me first, but I kept sucking. "Go on then, let me fuck your horny face," he told me, grabbing my head and thrusting into me hard and fast until his pleasure erupted.

Then there was flogging. On and on, my face against his thigh, holding his hip with one hand and his thigh in the other.

"How does your ass feel?" he checked with me after some time.

"Okay." I love being flogged. It felt lovely.

"'Okay'? Hm." I heard him go after another implement. "I'm going to make your ass not feel okay anymore." He brushed the very fine, very solid wooden spoon against my backside, and I inhaled sharply with fear. He hit me with it, sharp and hard, twice on one cheek, once on the other. I squealed and gripped his hip and thigh tightly, clinging to him for strength, not wanting to stop him but not seeing how I could take it. He hit me with it more, making my brain boil. Then, suddenly, he was still hitting me with it but it was bearable. My noises continued, but with less intensity. I could handle it.

He muttered to himself, "Hmmmmm, wrong side. Let's see." He paused, flipped the spoon over in his hand, and hit me with it again.

"Arrrggghhhhk," I screamed, burying my face in my pillow to muffle it. Holy crap, that much difference from hitting me with the opposite side of the thing?

"Mmm, that's better," he crowed.

"Hurts so much," I whimpered, still clinging to him.

"Mmm, I know it does," he told me, landing a few more blows on my poor ass before he stopped. He ran his hands gently over the red, sore flesh, making me jump and whine.

"I know that spoon hurts you. But I hit you with it anyway. I'm a bad, bad man. How does your ass feel now?"

"Hurts," I responded.

"Good. Now let's see if we can make you forget about that, huh?" he asked as he went into the drawer again. I heard the lube cap pop, as he kept talking to me. "Hm, looks like there are some marks on this ass." He kept rubbing his hands across the painful parts where he'd hit me with the spoon, making me jump and jerk, and then I felt his finger, slick with lubricant, sliding into my ass. I moaned softly, and he slid it in and out slowly.

"How's that feel, baby?"

"Mmm, good," I said, practically purring.

"Oh, it's much better than that nasty spoon hitting you, isn't it?"

"Mmhmm..."

Too soon, he stopped with the finger, which was feeling fabulous, and I felt him press the plug against my hole. "It's going in your ass. Ooh, it doesn't want to. But I'm going to make it."

And here is where I gloss over because my brain short-circuited as soon as his fingers made contact with my extreme arousal. I was a pool of need, and he slid his fingers into me and made me come over and over. "Too full," I begged at one point, as I think he had all his fingers in there and the plug was in me and it was overwhelming and his thumb began to play with my ass where it was stretched around the plug...

"Mmm, I don't think there's any such thing as too full for you, slut," he told me, continuing what he was doing.

"I think we'll just leave that plug right there for a while," he told me afterward, and he fell asleep. I tried to, and I've been able to once before, but it just felt so impossibly huge inside me that every time I moved I moaned and humped the air.

"Oh, can I do anything for you, love? Anything at all?" he asked, waking up some time later to taunt me, it seemed. "You're making more noise now than you were when I was doing things to you," he said. Surely a lie. Surely not more. Then his hand was inside me again, and there were more orgasms. He removed the plug when he was finished with me this time, thankfully.

"You're a good master," I purred, curled into his arms, exhausted.

"Mmmm, you're a good slave."

It was beautiful

I started writing this post back in December, just notes and quotes to fill in later, but as I wrote, I felt the urge to describe, and then we went on our long vacation over the holidays. By the time I had time to look at it, I'd forgotten the details I meant to fill in, and there's no ending because I didn't take notes for it. Yeah, sloppy habit. Even some of the descriptive writing is just barebones notes, in this case.

I thought my readers could enjoy it as-is, anyway.

Idea shamelessly stolen from Liza.

---

December 11, 2011

He held me tightly in his arms, we were spooned and his lips were near my ear.

"You like it when I do lots of different things to you, don't you?"

"Yes.."

"How do I go about starting? Maybe I just... do them?"

"All at once?"

"That'd be a neat trick, eh?"

"You could start a circus act."

We bantered. His hand slowly, deliberately, crept into my hair and he pulled a handful of it by squeezing. I gasped in mid-sentence, falling silent.

"You like when I pull your hair, don't you?"

"Mmhmm."

"Even if we're in the middle of a conversation."

"Anytime you want."

He squeezed his handful a few more times, my place in this interaction solidifying to me with each tug. My banter was replaced with small whimpers. He hit my ass, hard. My breath whooshed out of me. "Looks like you're getting a beating first." He slammed his open palm against my flesh several more times. "Do you like this?"

"Yes," I whispered in between gasps.

"But there's more. I can do more than just beat you." He opened the nightstand drawer, retrieved something. "I can also flog you." He slapped the flogger against my ass and hip and I squealed. "You like this too, don't you? I thought so."

He started pulling my shirt off. "Take this off!" he barked.

"But it's coooolld," I whined protestingly.

"I have love to keep you warm," he assured me as he shoved it off of me.

His hand slowly crept up to my breast, and he cupped it gingerly. "You know what's next, don't you?"

I whimpered.

"Oh, you don't know, but you can imagine. I could pinch your nipple," he said menacingly as he rolled it, "do you like having your nipples pinched?"

"Nuh-uh," I lied.

"Oh, that's too bad," he responded as he pinched my nipple firmly, tugging on it a little, generating a nice distressed noise from me. He pulled me onto my back, slapped my breast hard, making it bounce around on my chest. "You like that?" he asked as he hit me again.

"Oh yessss.." I hissed.

He rained several more blows onto my breasts with his hand, then tugged my nipples again. He brought up the flogger and flogged me there too. "Can you feel how much you turn me on?" he asked, pressing his cock against me and putting down the flogger. I could. "Why do you think I get so turned on by doing these things to you? Do you think I like the power I have over you?" He grabbed my wrist and squeezed. "Or maybe I like to hear your reactions." He tugged a handful of my hair and I moaned. "Or maybe I like knowing how much it turns you on." He tugged on my nipples some more. "It could be all of those things.."

His hand slid down under the blankets to my thigh and he hit me there, over and over, covering the entire length of my inner thigh in burning tingles. "It hurts," I whimpered.

"Oh I know. You're sensitive here, aren't you? I'm not a very nice man, am I?" He let his fingers glide across the sensitive skin. He treated the other thigh to the same abuse, then brushed his fingertips gently along my pussy. "I bet you're really sensitive here. I'd be a really bad man if I hit you here, wouldn't I?" His hand hovered over me, just brushing against the curly hairs there, tension building. He pulled back slightly and I tensed more, but he returned just to pet me gently. I exhaled and then he drew his hand back and hit my pussy once, hard. "Looks like I'm a really bad man," he whispered into my ear as I squirmed, a cry of pain escaping me.

I bit my lip and nodded. "Mmhmm," I managed through the heat washing over me.

---

Sorry to be a tease, but that's all there is! We did continue, but the details are lost to the ravages of time.