Jan 122018
 

It began with laying in the middle of the bed, putting on a blindfold. The vast majority of our scenes begin with such a start.

I was caned on the thighs and butt for much longer than normal, rhythmic to the songs to help  lull a quiet mind as it is hypnotic. His fists were next; there is something about knuckles sinking deep into muscles that feels amazing even as it hurts. Punched primarily on thighs, my body jerked with the impact, pressed more fully into the bed. Next, he instructed me to roll over so he could cane nipples – not something that we’ve done much of. The front side of my body was warm from being against the mattress, my backside heated from sting and impact; perhaps it was the warmth that allowed my nipples to handle it much better than I would have imagined. The stinging rod came down and set the already sensitive nubs further alive, more responsive, created a triangle of sensation from nipple to tense low and make me wet.

Rope was sensually strung and rubbed over skin: the inside of my wrists, thighs parted to welcome the twisted fibers, between lips where those same fibers felt rougher amid such sensitivity, breasts and of course the overly receptive nipples. He was unhurried, deliberate in the trail that the rope would follow, created paths that awakened my entire body to touch – not just the more focused upon areas. As wrists were tied, he directed whichever attached hand to grip his cock, and wrapped the rope while receiving treatment from my palm and fingers. I felt his desire growing, a brief interruption as one hand was tied up before the other hand was guided to continue such explorations.

Legs were folded ankle to back of thigh, pressed painfully together tightly in rope, before pulled wide apart at the knees and tied where I felt exposed. The room fan more fully showcased how parted my lips were as the breeze in the room touched wet pink places. A Doxy wand was tied in and barred the breeze’s access between my thighs, pressed at my entrance, began on a low rumble. Eventually, he slowly increased speed as he played with my body with caressing fingertips and his gifted mouth.

“How many orgasms?”

I was unsure, took a guess of three.

“Not enough.” He pressed the wand even harder against my wetness, increased the vibrations until I felt far too overstimulated, thighs tensed and made the rope more painful around. He replaced the scream in my mouth with his cock, sound vibrations reverberated along his shaft through another orgasm before allowing me to breathe.

His mouth was attentive to my nipples, those torturous pinpoints of pleasure throughout my orgasmic torment of the wand.

I begged him to fuck me; he teased me that something else would be inside of me; used my mouth instead, again through another orgasm.

Mercilessly, the wand throbbed between my legs. I begged for it to stop, for him to be inside of me. Again, I received a substitute as he inserted an anal plug – the edge touching the wand and reverberating the vibrations throughout the plug.

Begged again. This time the wand was stopped and rope was casually removed between my thighs holding the toy as his hot mouth slanted down and tongue tasted my orgasms, his fingers occasionally joining in to brush against the sides of my wet lips or delving into my depths.

Already overworked with sensations, his mouth was divine torture. I tensed against his lips, would have grinded myself more fully into his face except he was still unhurriedly untying my thighs. A brief respite as the rope was removed far too quickly to give a true break in passion.

Still, I begged him to fuck me.  He denied me yet again, this time a vibrator was inserted deeply into my drenched depths, slammed in and out. I arched, having full access to my body again, almost came off the bed as I came in sharp waves of pleasure.

I didn’t know how much more I could take, begged he take me instead. He commented on all my begging, encouraged me to let him know how badly I wanted him. When he heard enough, my hands finally felt the purchase of his shoulders, his hips cushioned between my thighs, the head of his cock pressed through the initial resistance of my entrance before pushing down into my body.

Unlike his more slow teasing and taunting up to this point, he kept up a maddening quick pace with sex, rammed almost painfully against my walls, made me come all the more harder from the impact, changed the positions after every couple of orgasms he took from me. Once, when I was rolled over on all fours with knees on the edge of the bed, he grabbed the Doxy wand as he was thrusting in and out and pressed it against the anal plug; my body tensed with the additional sensation and pushed against him and the wand. As he rocked in and out, I felt the plug moving with his hips and cock. I clenched around him in my own orgasms, felt him finally find his own release.

Sweaty, panting, exhausted, I crumpled onto the mattress and he chuckled as he snuggled around my prone form.

Though that led to more caressing, more playing, as my responsiveness tempted him to continue. I asked for his fingers to be shoved in and stretch, wanted to feel more sore in my cunt, screamed through an orgasm that he granted. He lifted my legs, curled them up to gain access to the back of my thighs and bottom to punch, eventually getting tired and moved to his forearms making contact instead of fists, occasionally the impact touched my soaked lips and the plug, created further tension that eventually led to another orgasm.

Tempted by my reactions, again we had so much sex that this time I begged in and out of pleasurable waves of consciousness. Begged to stop, begged not to stop, screamed yes, screamed no. He pounded in and out of my confused pleas until he found his own orgasm.

Snuggled for the second time, his fingers lazily grazed against my skin, made their way between my legs. “You’re so swollen,” he murmured against my ear, which apparently meant I needed to be treated to my vibrator. An orgasm tore through my body and I was unaware of my reaction as I launched away from him, grabbed the vibrator out and threw it on the floor far away from me. He laughed at my unexpected defense instinct against overwhelming pleasure and called a truce.

Exhausted, prompted to clean myself up, he then tucked me in between the sheets and left me alone to pass out into a deep and well deserved sleep the rest of the night.

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Sep 042017
 

Mr. Texas hit me so hard I cried. I don’t know if I’ve cried before from pain, though to be fair I more teared up than sobbed.

What was even more striking is that I wore a soft supple leather blindfold at the time and the duration of time I wore it I smelled wet leather.

Previously, he was exhausted and told he wasn’t in the mood to beat me – not that I requested it but we talked about it throughout the day, the way someone may talk about what was for dessert after dinner.

When he walked me to bed, I thought it was simply to tuck me in, but he instructed I hand him my blindfold – an easy enough task considering I had just taken it off him mere hours earlier and the reason he cited for being exhausted. My view was obstructed with leather fabric; there is something about being visually cut off from the world, from him, that allows me to focus more intensively on myself, on my other senses, hear my heartbeat and breath drawn in and out, hear his footsteps approaching or his fingers picking up or placing down an implement.

Hands gripped my upper arms and steered me to the end of the bed, positioned me halfway leaning over the footboard, so that he could flog me. A new one for him and he had two to choose from, preferring the longer one as he felt more in control. He went gently but the leather tips would occasionally sting and I squirmed in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

What I liked most was that he warmed up my skin and kept a rhythmic pace that made my body relaxed and hypnotized my mind on what he was doing. Eventually he guided me into the bathroom, where he bent me over and the flogger striked with a bit more force, though nowhere near painful.

From flogger to crop, where the warm up was extensive and settled my mind and body even more deeply to where he could strike surprisingly hard, so much so that he commented on how much I was taking. But eventually the crop stung too much and too many places on me were unappreciative of that sensation.

Mr. Texas’ hands did the real damage as they almost always do, first caressed my reddened cheeks which felt amazing, softly patted a few times, then pulled back and spanked to where the imprint of every finger and thumb connect to his palm was not only visible – it was felt.

I jumped up and elbowed him in the chest, though not hard as I couldn’t see and he stepped back. If we had made eye contact, I’m sure my gaze would have conveyed my dislike over such extreme stingy pain, though he didn’t need to see – he knew how much I disliked it.

“Mother fucker,” I gritted, tip toeing to relieve some sting on my cheek – it didn’t alleviate any. His hand went to my mid back and he pushed me down to bend over the counter again.

The other cheek received the same treatment of arm pulled back and force release with every area of his stingy hand.

“Yellow,” I cried out and the first cheek was thwacked entirely too hard again; he took my coloring to change cheeks, but the force was far more than I could handle so soon. Tears sprang to my eyes, “yellow,” my voice weaker, almost timid from being a bit watered down, and the second cheek was hit again. He kept a hand on my mid back and the other hand reached down between my thighs so he could finger me to an orgasm, an excellent proposal to distract me from the torment.

Though my cheeks felt on fire despite the fact that I drenched his fingers.

After my orgasm, he stroked my reddened bottom and then punched. After all the sting, I had little tolerance for it and it wasn’t long before I called yellow and he switched it up to fingering me again.

While the tears abated, as I was pressed face down into my arms on the unforgiving bathroom counter, I began to smell the wet leather. It was so strong a smell that it quite possessed all my other senses for a moment and it was all I could focus on. It smelled like sex and ache, or perhaps my desires permeated the leather; it was clean, crisp, masculine, woodsy.

I didn’t need to see him to know that he was there, suffering at his hands because he loved me enough to take me into this small, safe space where my brain could reorient itself onto what was important: my body and senses, our love, being present in the moment.

The story continues here.

*Sometimes the lack of eye contact can help my head space. Click the rainbow to read other stories about eye contact.Wicked Wednesday

Masturbation Monday badge - small *And what other stories overwhelm senses on Masturbation Monday

 

May 272017
 
Sinful Sunday

It’s been months since I’ve really felt the pain and pleasure of rope, perhaps longer. Mr. Texas is frustrated, to say the least. He’s clever, capable, a quick learner. He’s done some amazing bedroom bondage and predicaments – and he’s only really learned the basics. But rope to me is strange…it’s a shadow of a memory that I love but that triggers me towards others. (Plus I’m not finding a rope community here still for Mr. Texas and I to be comfortable in.)

Apr 022017
 
Sinful Sunday

[jwplayer mediaid=”7163″] When my friend Yuè Lǎo took this photo, I thought of Type O Negative’s song, Christian Woman.

A cross upon her bedroom wall – from grace she will fall
an image burning in her mind – and between her thighs

A dying god-man full of pain – when will you cum again?
before him beg to serve or please – on your back or knees

No forgiveness for her sins – prefers punishment
would you suffer eternally – or internally – ah

 

Feb 032017
 

Mr. Texas tied my wrists – taking a few times as it had been a month since he even touched rope and the rope kept tightening. He strung the rope up to the sides of the head board, stretched one side too far where the shoulder wasn’t down. Experience taught me my shoulders would fatigue if they weren’t down, so I requested he loosen the rope a bit so my shoulders rested comfortably down, adding that my wrists up were fine.

Futomomo ties for the legs, where the ankles and calves were bound to the thighs – he remembered this surprisingly well and didn’t struggle in the slightest. He used the small loose ends to extra rope  to tie into the extra rope on bed posts that restrained my wrists. I thought that was very clever, as it spread my thighs as much as possible and moved them slightly up as well.

I was now spread open naked, a position that makes me feel vulnerable in an appreciated way as it assists the mind set that I want to achieve.

Ugh, I had actually suggested this was hot to me. Yet, in the moment, orgasm denial is such a tensioned tease that is hard for me to deal with. I whined my disappointment. Fingers again became aggressive inside of me, this time he allowed a full orgasm to slam into my body, quickly slapped at my inner thighs with his other hand, waited for me to come down from my orgasm and gripped and spanked at the lower part of my bottom that he could reach.

He slid his hips between my thighs, my tied heels nestling him behind his hips and keeping him pressed against me. I felt his erection at my entrance, the head slipped past my entrance and slid deep into my body. He felt so amazing inside of me and I tightened instinctively. He moved slightly, rubbed up and down a few times, just enough to get me worked up, and then stopped before I could find pleasure.

Withdrawing, he reached up and released my wrists. I think he moved towards the end of the bed, it felt that way. “Play with yourself,” he ordered. I hesitated, I know I did. I don’t do this often, and even though Mr. Texas and I had been together for months, it was at the edge of uncomfortable for me. Yet, if I denied him, would he think that his attempt to take control failed?

Did he he even want to see me masturbate? Just a few days prior I expressed how I found it hot when a lover would masturbate for me, and he replied that he thought that it was odd.

I didn’t want to discourage him – that alone made me tentatively slip a finger between my lips and rub. Was he watching? Did he sit there and get turned on by the sight in front of him? I hoped so, as that would encourage me to listen to this command in the future.

“Harder,” he told me, and I plunged two fingers in, though I couldn’t use my still tied legs to thrust my hips up to get a good angle.  “Make yourself cum really hard.” And I moved faster, but the angle was wrong and my mindset was wrong.

Fortunately or unfortunately, he must have believed that I had an orgasm from my fingers, as he moved my hand aside and entered me again.

We had sex until we both found our own release in each other.

Febraury Photofest
Aug 142016
 

So with my husband and I reconciling, one of the first things on his list was anal play for him. He hadn’t experienced it in months and I think that he was even made to feel that it was viewed negatively in some regard.

He missed it.

He had thrown out all the toys that he was in possession of that we had split, so we no longer had the very cool dildo that went beautifully with our harness (and also fit inside of me with vibrations); I was still in possession of the harness. So, off we went to a sex store where we found just a standard dildo that the harness would hold in. It was more malleable than the other dildo, which actually helped cut down on me accidentally hurting him; the downside is when I really got going it would slip out a little easier. It was also lighter, so while nothing was inserted into me, at least it stayed put in the harness a bit better.

Armed and ready, we were going to try pegging again.

Actually, it was a scene that I was giving him with pegging so he laid down tied in the center of the bed with a pillow under his bottom. I started with softer sensations (he dislikes pain of any kind). My hands would roam and my mouth was active the whole time:

tongues danced together with gentle caresses reaquainting fingertips with his body, soft sighs and a building of passion and love and trust;

blindfolding him with a soft leather strip so he could focus more on the physical sensations and less visually, my mouth hovering above his own as my tongue darting out to trace his lips as he tried to catch a kiss;

brushing his skin with feathers as my mouth would roam and suck at delectable areas that incited moans;

using stinging flicks of a toy as my teeth would nibble and occasionally bite, causing goosebumps and pinkened marks to appear across his body;

taking the tines of the wheel and traversing across his body as teeth would sink into muscles, causing him to jump or take sharp intakes of breath as he worked through the brief flashes of pain;
an ice cube melted in my mouth as my tongue swept across his reddened areas, cooling down the heated flesh right before I would drip hot wax from a candle, reheating the area and giving a contrast.

When I increased the sensations in roughness, I also took less care of tenderness – kissing him less, manhandling him more. When he would try to move away from a sensation, my hand was around his neck or my elbows were digging into a pressure point to keep him still, with a warning that he soon heeded to stay still and work through accepting the sensations. A black hood (a new toy of mine) with just an opening for the mouth was pulled over his face, effectively turning him more of an object that I was toying with and a mouth to fuck, as I immediately told him to stick out his tongue so I could straddle and fuck his face. I made sure to press my hips down every so often to make his breathing a little more labored as he brought me pleasure.
It wasn’t long before I placed on a glove, a lot of lube on one finger, positioned myself between his legs, and then my mouth teased the tip of his erection as I slowly circled his anus before inserting the finger. As my finger moved deeper into his body, my mouth moved lower down his shaft. Two fingers increased my sucking, which moved at the same time of my fingers – down and in, up and out. Three fingers – a bit trickier as my pinky always seems to be in the way, my tongue swirled around the ridges of his head as I inserted before attempting to deep throat him as my fingers tried to fill his body.

He sighed and moaned and groaned, his hips occasionally tried to thrust up and welcome the sensations even further. He was so hard in my mouth, occasionally pulsing at a delicious part, hitting the back of my throat at times, his muscle clenching around my fingers as they curled slightly, explored, slid in and out.
I decreased the sensations before stopping, taking off my glove and moving up his body, briefing sliding my own body to where he was inside of me and grinding on top of him while I took off his hood and kissed back his humanness. I kissed the sides of his neck as I took off his blindfold, slowing rotating my hips rather than fucking him roughly, leaned down to passionately kiss him before I slowly unraveled him to freedom, wanting him to have full use of his hands and legs. His hands immediately went to my hips to fuck us to pleasure, but I removed myself off him and told him to put me in the harness.
Less than a minute later I was again between his legs, liberally applying lubrication on my dildo, positioning it at his entrance. He seemed surprised that rather than enter him, I leaned forward and kissed him, pressing my body down on his own and telling him how much I loved him. Then I leaned up and carefully entered him, watching his face closely in between the toy disappearing into his depths. He gave me verbal feedback the whole way in, positive that it felt good, that it wasn’t hurting, that he could take more. When I was all the way in, I praised him as I leaned forward for a kiss again before straightening up and slowly easing out and then in. One hand stroked his cock and the other caressed his balls. Masturbation Monday Week 102

Soon I was fucking him, both hands gripping his hips like he so often did to me to have more leverage and go as deep as I could, and his own hand was stroking himself. I slipped out a couple of times, but eventually his body tensed and his hips lifted as his hand slowed while white spurts shot across his chest with his orgasm. It was a magnificent sight; it was verbally decadent to hear his sounds; it was incredible to create and be a part of.

I finished the scene for him with a warm wash cloth, cleaned the beautiful white streaks and hardened candle wax off his skin, had him sit up for a drink of water before rolling over so I could wipe off the excess of lube between his cheeks. I had a candle going of massage wax the whole time and poured enough over his broad expanse of back, rubbing his muscles and feeling any residue tension leave his body, before using another warm wash cloth to remove any oil that didn’t soak into his skin. I covered him with a blanket as he laid so peacefully and heard him snore before I even left the room to clean up our toys. Masturbation Monday badge - small

 

 

Jul 292016
 

Masturbation Monday badge - smallGarrett tied Tanya’s wrists to the sides of the head board, stretched one side too far where the shoulder wasn’t down. This would be his second time trying to tie her for sex, their first couple of months exploring kink. Experience from last time taught her that shoulders would fatigue if they weren’t down, so she requested he loosen the rope a bit so her shoulders rested comfortably down, adding that her wrists up were fine. Feedback, people kept telling them, was important.

He used the same type of tie around her ankles, stringing it down to the opposite sides of the footboard to spread her legs, using the extra rope to retie into the extra rope on bed posts that restrained her wrists. She thought that was very clever, how he was already modifying from last time and now if she attempted to move either the lower limbs or upper limbs they would pull. Tanya recalled people called this predicament.

She was now spread open naked, a position that made her shiver in anticipation and felt vulnerable in an appreciated way as it assisted the mind set Garrett wanted to achieve.

Before they played with rope, they already learned that a blindfold always helped that mindset as well, so Garrett slipped one on. Then he saw the bits of the rope along the bed and had an idea to alternate whipping her thighs with them. He smiled at her surprised jerk and yelp, finding so much entertainment in the action that he did both thighs a few more times. He caressed her thighs where he had just marked her, tracing the slightly pink imprints and thinking that they should work up to red welts to one day mark her gorgeous skin. Of course, his hands couldn’t resist her magnificent breasts, his hands fully cupping her soft, small globes. He liked her sounds of impact, he decided, and whipped where his hands just left, cautiously at first. She sighed into the sensations of softness and gasped at the sting of the tips.

He teased with kisses and caresses, fingertips trailing paths across her skin, occasionally pinching a nipple or slapping at the inside of a tied thigh.

Then, he gently slapped her vulva. She took a quick intake of breath. “Oh, you like that,” he sounded delighted. He gently slapped a few more times and she jerked in response.

“Who said you can move?” For someone that was new to this, he wanted to make damn sure she knew who was in control. He gripped the outsides of the leg rope and pulled taut to spread her further, the strands of rope dug into her skin in a painful way that for some reason she really liked. He adjusted the rope slightly so that she was stuck in that position; making a mental note for next time they did this.

She felt something like a cold water bottle press against her wet lips that were still stinging, at least that’s what she guessed based on seeing him carry one into the bedroom prior to playing. She wanted to escape the cold sensation and yet it felt so good against how hot he made her there.

Masturbation Monday Week 100 Garrett’s fingers warmed up where the bottle was, his thumb circling her clit to madness before fingertips traced ever so slightly, barely felt but for the brushing of Tanya’s short pubic hair. Suddenly he thrusted two fingers in and quickly created so much pleasure, but withdrew them right before an orgasm.

Ugh, had she actually suggested this idea was hot? In the moment, orgasm denial was hard for her to deal with, though afterwards she would smile in remembrance. She whined her disappointment.

Fingers again became aggressive inside, this time he allowed a full orgasm to slam into her body, watched her body tense, listened to her breathing and moans in satisfaction, felt her clench upon his fingers and fluid coat them. She was so beautiful in this moment it almost took his own breath away.

But he had a job to do, so quickly slapped at her inner thighs with his other hand when he believed that she was at the crest, hard. He had never heard that noise come from her before, would have to ask afterwards how she felt.

He slid his hips between her thighs and slowly entered her. She wanted to wrap her legs around him to increase his pace but couldn’t – an odd feeling. He leaned down and close to her face, rained down soft kisses and loving praises against her lips as he slowly increased the tempo of moving in and out of her.

Within minutes, to the surprise of them both, they found their pleasure together.

Jul 192016
 

I had my first orgasm at noon; I had my last orgasm at midnight. There was only perhaps a couple of hours broken up in between all of that. For those that know how easily and how hard I orgasm, that’s quite a day of a lot of orgasms.

Far, far too many orgasms. It was ridiculously easy to get me to orgasm as the night went on.

In the day, I met a man (Tech Talk) that I went out on a few dates with. It was our first time kissing, so why not move it to our first time fucking as well? He is a very sweet man who is interested and incredibly open minded about kink. We had discussed boundaries and limits dates prior to this and the path was laid out on which directions I could go.

So, I gave him some small tastes of kink. I began by giving him different sensations. My fingers swept softly, my nails raked angry red trails down his body. My mouth kissed gently, sucked, nibbled a lot, and then once I realized he had a high pain threshold – bit roughly everywhere; he had already shared that he liked to be bit. Silk fabric caressed up and down parts of his body before blindfolding him. I took a Wartenberg Wheel to him, tiny little pinpricks of marks across his skin which he handled so well that I pressed deeply into his skin and blazed intermittent dotted pieces like those in the center of a road showing the trail I traveled for days across his skin.

He kept complimenting me, saying how rare and unusual I was, how exciting, how he scored himself a hot woman, how lucky he was. He complimented my body, my touch, my mouth. He claimed that I was absolutely amazing at giving head.

And then it was his turn to do things to me. He went down on me for so long that I orgasmed, then he fingered me to a few more orgasms. He stretched on a condom and entered me, missionary for just a moment and then around to hands and knees behind me, then laying down completely on my back. He complimented how I felt while pushing for orgasm after orgasm (which was ridiculously easy after going down on me for so long).

We became a sweaty mess  who both claimed that we needed a nap after we were finally done. But I had places to go, so I cleaned up and left him…

…Onto the dungeon.

Where after a negotiation, I had two people co top me, with no genital touching (breasts were fine), no penetration, no marks, no blood or needle play, but name calling and lighter impact were fine…unless I orgasm. That last part was from an off hand comment that I can take more from an orgasm. (Honestly, I didn’t think I would orgasm while there because of the no penetration rule – I didn’t take into account how my body was already sensitive from the orgasms before I arrived at the dungeon.)

As the man came in with his toy bag, she threw in that piece of information, and he asked if I wanted a hitachi. I said maybe, and that I would think on it. So when the man slapped at my vulva and got the rhythm that I could orgasm even without penetration, it was because I was already primed for pleasure from earlier in the day. He was downright gleeful when he denied me an orgasm that way and I so badly wanted it that I was ready to cry for one. The day had made my body so ridiculously ready to climax.

I ended up agreeing to a hitachi. He placed the wand against my wet fabric and the loud buzzing was no match for my moans as the toy so quickly overwhelmed my body and granted me the orgasm that I wanted. He discovered that I could multiple, with one orgasm crashing in on another. The vibrations of a wand are the closest I ever get to coloring, and yet I either arch to press myself further against or squirm to get away from it – he was having none of shifting away and the toy throbbed all the more harder against my lips. I became very loud in volume when orgasm after orgasm was forced on me, with some impact occasionally thrown in, which provided a short but painful break to breathe but not lessening my volume as I groaned when contact was made. There could have been a room full of people, and so caught up in receiving either pleasure or pain, I could’ve cared less.

It was during this point that he ordered me to look at her and thank her for my next orgasm, and even she offered a protest that she didn’t think I could do it. I did try but ended up looking at her right when it finished, thanking her at the same time.

Afterwards, we all stayed where we were for a bit while I drifted back to reality and got dressed. Then we went into the kitchen area and visited with other people. He looked across the table from me after some time passed and said that he wanted to play again.

So off we went, with the Hitachi and his hands and his words, where I orgasmed until the dungeon closed. Fortunately, he is the one who closes up so I didn’t feel pressured to run out the door – he even walked me to my vehicle.

Twelve hours of orgasms, where one moment set the pace and the path for so many more to be enjoyed over and over again in different ways. I never would have believed my body was so capable of sustaining that many in one day.

*This is the third of seven posts from this one day:Wicked Wednesday

To read the negotiation and beginning play, click here.

To read about more details during orgasming with these awesome two, click here.