Mar 262017
 

The Wanderer and I spent a night together in which he immediately, with no warm up, beat my ass with a thick leather belt and created welts that marked for a week. We did so many things in the short amount of time we spent in the hotel. Here’s three:

Throat. Something I know he doesn’t do much of but something I enjoy is a hand around my throat. After a belt spanking, playing around a bit, dinner, orgasms, and a spanking, he laid me on the bed and fingered me to an orgasm. Nothing out of the usual, until his hand went around my throat. I’m pretty sure it was for my benefit far more than his, but instantly his large hand held my every thought. That physical reminder that I was vulnerable was all I needed to surrender any shred of control to him. He didn’t apply a lot of pressure along my pulse on either side of my neck, but I didn’t need it to feel powerless. I shut my eyes, focused on his other fingers deep inside of me and curling slightly, rubbing at place that had me crying out and shuddering in ecstasy.

Hot wax. The sad fact is that we were planning on playing with wax six months prior – he even bought the candles. But then I reconciled with my husband, so that didn’t work out at all. I had actually used one candle he bought on my friend – to show her how sensual and intimate wax and knife feels.

With The Wanderer, it was what I thought it would be – sensual and intimate. I was fuzzy brained from pain, tired from orgasms, yet for some reason I was a bit squirmy every time the drops hit my body. It hurt and stung in a way that I was surprised with, but perhaps my head space was all over the place by that point. He measured the drops, his eyes never leaving my body – I was the sole focus of his attention, something that I adore with any type of scene – the sole focus and connection found. After awhile, the pattering of the drops calmed me and I was able to breathe a bit into the rhythm he set, to watch his gaze, drops sizzling and then cooling to hardened little reminders of his travel. He teased around my nipple, not quite touching it but circled around. My skin was pinpoints along the trails, flushed from his attention as much as the heat.

Hand job. Prior to the wax, he had requested a hand job. If anyone were to ask me my deficiency in the bedroom, I would tell them that it was a hand job. I rarely even attempt to give them, and here he was asking for one. “You’ll have to teach me,” I warned. So he promised me he would, and he was an excellent teacher, able to verbalize exactly what it was he wanted from me. My hand wrapped around his shaft and he directed to where exactly to hold on the length. Unsure, I squeezed a bit and he directed me to clench harder. Up and down, my fingers felt the muscles and veins and ridges, my palm felt how deliciously hard he was. His encouragement with the timber of his voice, the erotic words directing me, and I found myself growing wet, imagining what I felt in my hand sliding up and down inside my cunt.

As he hardened even more, his thigh muscles tightened and his hips thrusted a bit into my hand, and I felt powerful. I was creating these sensations that he was enjoying, producing pleasure that had nothing to do with me and every bit directed just for him. There is something selfless about a hand job: it allowed me to be more of an observer of his pleasure, gifted me an intimate view of how he reacts and what he liked, such an intimate glimpse.

I felt him pulse and throb against my fingers and palm, watched as his milky orgasm reached its climax and shot out of his cock, heard his groan of satisfaction. It was so hot.

I can’t wait to see him and learn some new techniques to pleasure him with my hand(s).

Masturbation Monday Week 134To read his thoughts on hand jobs, click here. To see a picture of the wax, click here.

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Jan 222017
 

I am like Pavlov’s dog with music selections.

Pavlov came across classical conditioning unintentionally…Whilst measuring the salivation rates of dogs, he found that they would produce saliva when they heard or smelt food in anticipation of feeding. This is a normal reflex response which we would expect to happen…

However, the dogs also began to salivate when events occurred which would otherwise be unrelated to feeding. By playing sounds to the dogs prior to feeding them, Pavlov showed that they could be conditioned to unconsciously associate neutral, unrelated events with being fed. – Psychologistworld.com

Certain songs will often remind people of a memory or a person. I find myself reacting to certain songs with physical reactions as well. It’s not that I’ve necessarily played with all these people often (though all but one I have), it’s just that music seemed to be prominent with us or in association with them.

Give me R&B or sexy pop beats, and I think of sex with my ex husbandOccasionally, my nipples will perk up or I will begin to tighten in anticipation. It’s strange to still have this reaction considering that it’s been so long, but it has been far longer still that this music trained me to respond with thoughts and aching for sex. With masturbation, I will still often play our radio station, so strong is my reaction that it helps my own self orgasm.

“I panted, by this time hours of pleasure not allowing me any sense of realism, and unable to help himself from toying with my quivering self, his fingers grazed my clit. I sucked in my breath, already feeling dizzy from the slight contact, my legs parting without thought. Suddenly two of his fingers danced upon my pearl, and I was so taken with pleasure I had no idea how I ended up laying with my back on his chest, one solid arm across my shoulder and neck so fingers could tugged at a nipple, the other hand quickly alternating between slipping into my sex and rubbing up into my clit.” – Incapable of Thinking

Always and Forever – Luther Vandross[jwplayer mediaid=”6952″]

Ride It – Jay Sean[jwplayer mediaid=”6954″]

Signs of Love Makin’ – Tyrese[jwplayer mediaid=”6955″]

Making Love (Into the Night) – Usher[jwplayer mediaid=”6956″]

Alternative music and I think of Mimir’s beautifully crafted scenes. Mimir had so much going on in his scenes that truly it’s a bit hard to pin down what specifically gets me physically reacting. It’s more like a whispered memory across my skin of sensations, an intake of breath of wondering what would have occurred, and a slight feeling of homesickness for rope and scenes crafted in a space that always felt safe and uniquely tailored to me. It’s an utter feeling of longing but incredibly sexy to me as well.

“He moved between my legs, and so softly – the merest gossamer of touches, slid a finger against the delicate lace of my underwear. If I had not been so fixated on his every move, if I had breathed too deeply, I might have missed the touch. It was a sharp contrast to the earlier dominance, this soft caress at my lips.

My body cried out for his touch. My mouth remained silent, not wanting to break the spell with demands that would go unheeded simply because they were uttered. He is not a man to be rushed.” – Take Down

Beautiful – 10 Years[jwplayer mediaid=”6957″]

Evil Angel – Breaking Benjamin[jwplayer mediaid=”6959″]

Bloody Creature Poster Girl – In This Moment[jwplayer mediaid=”6960″]

Industrial German and I think of painful rope with Master MondayRope with him was not unheard of, but we didn’t do it very often. Though I did see his look of planning often to this music, and occasionally was treated to some of his expertise. The music makes me me miss rope in general, but very specifically how badly it can cut into muscles, or the tension creating little doubt of being bound together, or the excitement of something new or creative. It’s a slight adrenaline rush.

“Did I mention the music was awesome? It’s amazing how music can create a scene, and in this case I feel it did. Next thing I knew I was being strung up and fully suspended with legs adjusted from time to time to a more painful position than the last. I was blindfolded and it was then used to pull my head back, in which he arched my back to tie the blindfold into an ankle. That was a tight tie, it didn’t allow any forgiveness or releasing of tension. It was very uncomfortable but sustainable, and I wished that I had been in it longer. He spun me around in that position, his hand brushing over my blindfold, my upturned chin, my tensely pulled back neck, my chest.” – Hurty Rope

Blutengel – Sing[jwplayer mediaid=”6961″]

Centhron – Lichtsucher[jwplayer mediaid=”6962″]

French pop songs and I think of being beat by Mr. Texas. – it’s a reaction I unconsciously created as country music just wasn’t doing it for me and he doesn’t care for most modern songs – so I picked Stromae and have tailored the songs specifically for our scenes. It is hearing these songs that inspired me to write some of my physical reactions to hearing certain music. Especially Love Story, and I think of having a cane taken to me, of the ebbs and flows to create a great scene where he is able to keep my pain threshold with a stinging strike just right and then use another song to build me up to perhaps punching on the back of my bottom or thighs, perhaps flogging (our newest exploration), or some other type of pain that while I handle it better, it certainly brings up the level of pain. Or he just may grip my hair and pull my head back forcefully as he slams his body deep inside of me, a hand around my throat and his deep throaty “mine” that imprints me as thoroughly as the marks. My body gets tense in anticipation of either an orgasm or bracing for impact when hearing this music now.

Love Story – Indila[jwplayer mediaid=”6963″]

Mes Aures – Frero Delavega[jwplayer mediaid=”6964″]

House’llelujah – Stromae[jwplayer mediaid=”6965″]

*I’m not including a post selection for Mr. Texas – for one I haven’t written much about our moments yet, for another, he is my future and we are beginning to strengthen my reactions to him and the music even further – I can’t wait!

**I had twelve songs picked out already as this sat in drafts, and when I saw the prompt for Wicked Wednesday, I thought it was perfect.

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Wicked Wednesday

Dec 052016
 

Masturbation Monday badge - smallI used to do this from time to time with my ex husband. So many grand moments admist every day moments in which I am busy with just work and family that I don’t write about them. But Texas reads me now, and some are noteworthy despite not having the time to write about them.

Anal Sex

I don’t ever try something once, I’m not sure if I’ve shared that. So we had anal sex once, and it was meh. Yet, I know I enjoy fingers from time to time, so taking my own spirit of give something a second try Texas and I tried anal sex again. This time, we took a bit more time with entry and it didn’t hurt nearly as much. We went slow and steady. It started feeling good, and Texas even came. When we were done, there was no mess and I didn’t cry. Heck, sort of my like sister did after her first anal sex attempt, I wanted to give him a high five and tell him it was a job well done.

masturbation-monday-week-118Rubbing Myself

As ridiculous as it sounds, I have never continuously rubbed myself during sex. So when Texas ordered me to finger myself as he kissed my body, and then entered me around my own fingers, he insisted I keep my fingers on my clit. The other hand he wanted me to pinch my nipples. He was unhurried as he slowly withdrew and pushed inside of me, the ridges of his shaft and underside of his head so prominent against my folds and walls.

Mimicking his pace with my fingers, I circled my clit until it was a hard nub; my other hand slowly twisted and pinched a nipple. He kept his body close, his breath heavy in my ear and I turned my head and nibbled on the side of his neck, listening to how his breathing changed with the different sensations my teeth and tongue created.

In, a long slow stroke where the tip of his head rubbed against so many places. My core tensed and my muscles followed the thickest part of him and clenched along his shaft not wanting him to leave. I moaned and breathed in when he hit as far back as he was going to, smelling the clean scent of his body.

Out, he moved as unhurriedly, giving me the opportunity to feel every single contour of him and my body tensed even further as not wanting him to completely withdraw. Even my fingers tensed: the hardened nub seemed even more exposed from lips parted open for so long and I pressed harder, circled faster, my nipple creating a pain sensation that connected and seemed to add strength to my muscles trying to refuse his movement. I exhaled and bit down on his shoulder when his head poised at my entrance.

In.

Out.

Such a maddeningly slow pace. It created so much tension in my body that my shoulders lifted off the bed and I could smell the slight scent of our sweat and our sex. With my own fingers, I pressed harder.

“You’re so tense, so tight,” he groaned as my body shuddered into an orgasm before tensing again into an echo of another – a smaller, faster orgasm. A long breath and shaking body. More tension, my stomach hurt from the slight way I arched up and clenching down upon him inside of me. My breaths were even against me as when a slow tension-filled orgasm began building, I would alternate holding my breath and remembering I had to breathe, crying out in pleasure with every inhale and exhale.

His chest pressed into my breasts, crisp coarse hair against the sensitive nipple I was not currently pinching, and my shoulders felt the cool sheets again, though they did not relax into the mattress.

At such a slow pace, my body could only tense and orgasm.

By the time he found his own release, again commenting of how I gripped him the entire time, we were both sweaty and catching our breath.

When he withdrew and moved to the side of me to hold me, he whispered that we would have to do that a bit more.

I sleepily replied that tensioned orgasms exhaust me, and drifted off to his fingertips grazing my back as my front was kept warm along the side of his body.

 

Nov 272016
 

Masturbation Monday badge - smallWhen David steered me into a room without a door, in a swinger’s club, with porn playing on a big screen, I was grateful that we were the only ones in the room.

I told him, as he pulled me onto his lap on a couch, that I didn’t have public sex, and he told me to tell him when to stop. We kissed, my shirt came off, then my bra. His shirt came off, exposing his muscular chest and arms. I kicked off my shoes.

Up until this point, this wasn’t new to me – being nearly naked in public. Heck, I’d been fully naked twice in public but they were with my ex husband and it was involving toys in rope.

David yanked on my hair and rotated us to lay me down on the seat, stripped me out of my pants and underwear. There are a few, rare times in my life when I no longer give a fuck about limits (that doesn’t mean I’m unsafe in pushing those limits). Those that care about me worry because they view it as vulnerable, and perhaps I am. Twice this year now I have pushed past my own comforts and limits – once when I did slutfest and a weekend with my husband after my husband left me, and that night in the swinger’s club (so far, but I’m still mourning, so we’ll see what else I get up to). It makes me feel alive when I am otherwise numb trying to cope. When he hesitated at my pants and looked down at me to see if I was okay, I knew we were going to have sex right there in the room. I was surprisingly okay with that.

He fingered me, and I briefly hoped that there was no one in the doorway. At least my head was more towards the doorway and my spread legs were facing a wall. He sat down and pulled me onto his lap where I was facing the doorway, I shut my eyes so I wouldn’t know if we had an audience and he continued to finger me, nibbling on my shoulders, neck, rotating me slightly to bite on my nipples. I arched into his teeth, I moaned and shuddered around his fingers. Now I fully exposed to the view of others, something he intentionally did, but I was focused on the pleasure he created rather than a potential audience.

He ordered me to lay down doggy style on the seat of the couch, and I bent my elbows to brace them on the seat which buried my head against the back bottom of the seat – so no one could see my face and I couldn’t see theirs. He put on a condom and began fucking me at a vigorous pace.

dsc_7442Have I mentioned that David is a military man at his prime and is in amazing shape? There is no part of him that is soft and the hardest part of him was rubbed and built up an orgasm; I welcomed the release of tension that seemed to be consuming me. Of course, once I orgasm once, the others just begin to flood my senses – and I am by no means quiet. He would smack my ass and thighs occasionally as he fucked me, and he yanked my head up by my hair, forced it to the other side. Briefly I peaked and saw the outlines of people in the room with us; I shut my eyes tightly, but orgasms are glorious things and before I could be mortified I was being carried on the wave of another one. He stuck a thumb in my back hole and used the pressure to increase the intensity of my orgasms. We switched positions quite a few more times.

I was sweaty and had no idea how he kept up an almost maddening tempo. When he finally found his own fulfillment and withdrew out of me to hold me tenderly, I was grateful he shielded my face away from the doorway and towards his chest.

And then I heard the men complimenting us. I’m sure I blushed as David thanked them politely. He sounded almost proud, and he should have been – he gave them one hell of a show.

 

*When I came in from cleaning myself up, some female friends of ours were sitting and chatting with David as he cleaned and sanitized the room. They mentioned how they had tried the sybian in the next room, expressed they were sad they missed the show we obviously gave, and inquired if I had tried it. I was already overcome with shyness and not talking much, so didn’t do much more than shake my head. When I expressed that I had not but I was curious, David took my hand and steered me towards that room. 

Guess the night still wasn’t done….

Oct 092016
 

Masturbation Monday badge - smallAfter so many orgasms and a pain/pleasure predicament, he told me nonchalantly, “go get the brush.” Apparently our new thing is I fetch what he wants me to. I groaned, turned around, probably rolled my eyes but was smart enough to turn away from him first, and went to get the brush like the obedient person I am…at least try to be…whatever, it’s a fleeting thing.

I handed him the brush and he pulled me over his knee where he sat on a bench at the end of the bed, my hands clenched the end of the mattress. The first few strokes were soft and I moaned more in pleasure at the contact, but they quickly became harder and I balked at the sting. I squirmed enough that my tiptoes hit the floor and I pushed off for all I was worth, instinctively trying to escape the sting.

Mentally I cringed at how wimpy I was at sting. Couldn’t handle even a little bit, I inwardly criticized, and tried to will my body to be still and take it – because I could.

Still, in a power dynamic of this nature: brain versus body, my body overrides.

“Oh no you don’t,” he insisted as he grabbed at my hip and wrapped a leg around my now futile legs.

Helpless again, and it was needed as I could handle the assault on my rear end, even though I cried out such nonsense as “ow” and “it hurts” – which it did, but I was being terribly dramatic.

Right when it began to feel good, it began to really sting again. He swatted constantly and consistently at a fast pace and somehow even with my legs rendered useless I managed to twist and turn around his body, wedging myself between him and the bed for protection.

He simply laughed at me and wrapped a solid arm around my waist, continuing his sting assault as he shifted his own body off of the the bench.

I clung to the bench as if it would save my overly dramatic life, pressed my breasts and belly and thighs into it, willing myself to meld into hiding.

He shifted tactics and used thuds – it was probably from his palms but it felt like his fists. My body tensed at the onslaught and I began to clench. More tension and suddenly my body released and surrendered at the pain, creating a pleasurable orgasm in the wake.

His fingers soon plundered into my wet depths and granted multiple orgasms; not kind in the pressure or hardness of movement, and another tensioned orgasm after orgasm happened.

I was sweaty and stuck to the bench but he positioned me up on hands and knees and swatted at my reddened cheeks, thighs, and vulva. I came from his drenched hand consistently making contact with my lips.

Another finger fucking and then I sank into the bench, hugging it for comfort and gasping for breath. He settled onto the end of the bed beside me and piled rope on my body.

In my confused, overwrought state if felt like a blanket at first, but a strand slipped between my thighs and rested between my lips teasingly.

As he slid and caressed with more rope around my reddened ass, I felt the strands so much more prominently. He unhurriedly coiled it, stretching out the tensioned reverberations and sliding of the rope on skin. 1IMG_2330

*As a special treat, if you want to read his perspective and to see who The Wanderer is, click here


Sep 252016
 

Masturbation Monday Week 108I use my phone for masturbation, a lot. As a matter of fact, if I am masturbating, odds are my phone is on and either in my hand or upright from a pillow nearby.

If my masturbation is truly a solo act, it’s from something I see on tumblr. And I am on tumblr almost every single night before I go to sleep (here’s a hot one I just recently found), so I see a lot of images. Considering I rarely masturbate as a solo act, the images that get me the most nowadays are cunnilingus and consensual non consent. As much as I love fellatio, I dislike most images – I like the feel, taste, and performing the act – I dislike most visuals I see because they seem to be from a male self-centered viewpoint (and maybe rightfully so).

But more so for masturbation: my phone has been used with my ex husband. Any time we were separated by distance (not an uncommon occurrence) we used our phones to send sexy texts and videos, had phone sex, and even video sessions together.

Some texts that were masturbation worthy:

We have done a lot and I intend to keep pushing your boundaries. I want to grab you by the neck, throw you on the bed, and have my way with you. I want to fuck you so hard. No ropes will be needed, I will tie you up with my words. I am intrigued by this whole deep throat thing right now, I am to the point I have thought about asking to push harder. [2014]

Thinking of you as I go to bed (posted a photo). I am thinking that when I first see you again of doing something simple like the fuck me rope. It is quick and easy and very effective. You will be bound and fucked in just a blink of an eye. Tied and slammed down on the bed, wrapped up, and fucked hard. [2015] – Sexting Searching

It was a way to maintain power dynamics, one particular time we were on video with each other because I failed at a task:

He wasn’t messing around with the whole punishment concept either, as the next order was to play with myself – already not an easy task with an audience. He was specific with giving him a teasing view of my breasts as I caressed them still wearing the silky lingerie, of lifting the bottom of the fabric with one hand as my other hand’s fingers teased and felt my wetness despite my embarrassment. “Insert one finger,” he would occasionally stroke himself so I was aware of his reaction to his show, “add another one.” I was a puppet, his to command. “Go deeper.” “Watch my fingers,” and he would curl and stroke the air the way he wanted my fingers to move deep in my own body. The man sure did know how I liked to be fingered, and I begged to cum, though he stopped me before I reached climax. – My Punishment 

My phone, while not used for masturbation with another beyond my ex, also keeps me connected and close to my lovers (and even oddly many of my one night stands).

The Wanderer and I, for example, rarely see each other. We would have absolutely zero of a relationship by this point if it wasn’t for keeping in constant, though by no means daily, communication by texts. We’ve only actually reached out and called a few times, but our schedules make that a challenge. Our relationship by phone isn’t one of sexting (though of course a certain appreciation of skills is discussed) but more of friends. We are of a deeper level of connection than just physical, though distance and other priorities keeps that connection almost a stalemate currently.

Cell phones have always been a wonderful addition to my relationships.Masturbation Monday badge - small

Sep 182016
 

img_2927Mr Texas didn’t want me going out to another event. It would have been the third day in a row, and he didn’t have his kids for the week, so he wanted time with me. I suggested we go to a kink event together, he asked that we come up with a list non kink related.

“Fine, I come up with one, you come up with one, and we make a list that we try to accomplish the remainder of the days until the kids come home.” He suggested a movie, which I immediately shot down. “Watching a movie isn’t really spending time together, I would rather go off and do something else. Think of spending time together since that what you said you wanted.”

I suggested a board game that I introduced him to, that we’re pretty even on winning. He was good with that.

He suggested cooking something together in the kitchen. I envisioned dancing to music and kisses in between. I agreed to that.

I needed pictures taken for Sinful Sunday, that required his help. He agreed to it.

He suggested hot tub sex again, then sex against a low part of his fence where there’s a trail that people walk, so a chance someone might see us. That was one I had to mull over, but decided there might be a time or a situation that I might agree to. I don’t ever wish to be seen, and public sex is unappealing to me.

…Board game in with laughter and teasing, far too many drinks and not a real dinner since we opted for chips while inebriated. We played until the board became a bit too confusing to our soggy brains, opted for the hot tub. The hot tub and a drink had always been our fall back – since date two, and it was something we both thoroughly enjoyed.

As I walked down the steps into the steamy water, his hands gripped my shoulders and pulled my body against his body immediately, his chest hairs tickling my cleavage as the water slid between our skin. He pushed my back and shoulders against the side wall, the step to sit on buckling my knees, parted my legs with his hips where they naturally wanted to wrap around anyhow, and slid right in. My body was ready for him, the warm water no deterrent as wet as I was, and the heels of my feet hooked around his waist to keep the contact as he thrusted up. My shoulders hit the side of the wall and prevented that aggressive action from launching me out in the cold night air. I gripped his shoulders and impaled myself further down his hardened length, he hit the back of my wall and I welcomed the pain as the water swirled around our bodies. The head of his cock rubbed at a delicious place at the unusual angle the water afforded us, but after some minutes, he pulled out.

I couldn’t contain a sound of complaint and my surprise at the unexpected action, my body so tense from anticipating an orgasm.

“Let’s go,” he said, pointed towards the fence very visible with the outdoor lights that he has on in his backyard.

I gulped, hesitated. I had envisioned us fucking against the fence in the early morning hours, when few people are out and were less likely to see us. In the blackness of the night, there probably weren’t any people out walking the trail, but I wouldn’t know – and with the backyard lit up so well, and that portion of the fence at a higher platform, we would be a huge beacon on a stage that people would be able to see.

I didn’t move so with a hand on my ass he boosted me up a step out of the protection of the water, and my feet shuffled towards the stairs to reach the entertainment area of his gorgeous back yard…and that low fence. He stopped me on the first stair, a hand on my shoulder and another on my hip, and bent me slowly over so my hands reached a higher step. With my feet on the first step, I was tall enough for him to enter bent over and he did…right under a light.

Masturbation Monday badge - smallHow visible were we to the darkness? We were under a spotlight but was there an audience?

To continue this story, click here. 

 

Sep 112016
 

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*Time to get back to my adventures with The Wanderer, as this scene continues from several days’ spent with him.

The Wanderer ordered my arms behind my back in between two spankings and when I let instinct guide me the wrong way and held him, thus moving my arms; he took me from one couch to another in the hotel suite as a consequence.

After a punishment of the belt, in which I was unsure if I liked it, I assumed the position of arms behind my back. He tweaked my nipples a bit and then ordered me to bring him rope and the crop. It would be our first time using both this trip and I was excited about the rope, nervous about the crop.

It was not my first time being told to deliver him something, and I had the internal debate again of: do I present both? How? I’ve seen tumblr things where the person offers them with wrists exposed and palms open around the perfectly balanced items like some sacrificial lamb offering up the carving knife.

That didn’t sound like me – at all.

So again, I just kind of gestured the things at him and he took them. Perhaps like I am doing with Mr. Texas, so too is The Wanderer doing with me: training a new partner in likes and dislikes.

1IMG_2269

My wrists tied down towards the back of the chair legs isn’t visible in this picture, but this was his view before impact

Next, he ordered me to kneel on a chair in the bedroom with my arms over the back of it. It was quite comfortable to be in this position for a long period of time, my knees sinking into softness and having the additional support of the soft sides of the plush chair to support my legs staying open – something  he took full advantage of. It was also a position that kept me from squirming too much later on.

He tied my wrists to the back of the legs to hold me even more securely, and then the crop caressed my back and butt, at first seemed to gently kiss both cheeks, and then flicked, before reigning down tiny burning flames…again with the sting (something that I’m utterly wimpy at and don’t appreciate much). My poor bottom.

His hand spanked where the crop had been, a large hand that covered so much of my cheeks, alternated biting rhythms and force. A paddle followed, sounding just as impressive as the impact felt, added to the burn of my skin and the tension building in my body, and then back to his hand, which sometimes the other hand would explore my wet crevice and relieve that tension brought on by pain by briefly bringing me to an orgasm, or to multiple orgasms, in between or even during the smacks, before rebuilding the tension all over again from pain. I was unaware I was pulling furtively on my bindings until one wrist felt the burn of fibers, the rope not relenting.

When he finally released me to hold me, my legs were noticeably shaking, my bottom was inflamed red, my wrists were raw, my thighs were drenched, and I was so blissfully happy.

Luckily, the chair was next to the bed where he comfortably held me in his secure arms while I relaxed fully after the experience and realized how tired the events of the day with him had made me (fortunately, it was time for us both to rest for the night).

Aug 292016
 

Masturbation Monday Week 104I was going to say something about this picture.

I was going to put myself in the story; as the author and with my active and vivid imagination, use the first person I can experience this, grow excited, tighten clench. I want to be this female tied, in this scene, exposed, vulnerable waiting. Wet, wanton, wanting him to come closer. To cum.

I love when a man finds his release. Not on a face, and I don’t even like the visual on someone else. Not even on her body, which is straining, which mine would be as well, impatient. I would want him in my mouth – that gorgeous cock – the only  thing that he is willing to share of himself – and even then he’s not sharing. He’s too far away from me, from her, stroking it, enjoying his hardness sliding against his palm, his fingers able to feel that ridges that both of us are denied in this scenario. But we are both staring at his action, at his blatant desire at the scenario that he has created, even if we wanted to – we can’t tear our eyes away from the sight of his cock contrasted in the black around him – a spotlight for our focus, for our show, for the preview.

Oh yes, I want to be in this scene. My legs test the boundaries on the rope, fucking amazing rope – I mean this scene was designed for me. It digs into my wrists and ankles, my ankles sore because I see her move and I would as well, to try to relieve some of the tension between my legs, to see if I can escape, to open myself wider in an unspoken invitation.

Yes, I would want to taste him, but ultimately I would want him to take advantage of the predicament of the bondage, my legs are spread for him, for him to push the head past my drenched entrance and slide the hardened length until he hit the wall at the back, fully claiming and filling every part of me. I would clench down upon him as he pulled out a bit, protesting the action, moaning as he sunk back in.

I even like that he is faceless. He could be anyone – a dream or reality. In some ways, I’m objectifying him, it matters not who he is. It matters what he does to me, to her, to us. The stage matters. His cock matters: it is the instrument of teasing foreplay, it is the promise, the temptation, the fulfillment, the reason legs are spread and eyes are riveted.

So yes, when I first clicked on Masturbation Monday, and my body immediately reacted like I was punched in the gut and my fingers wanted to drift towards pleasure, I was going to tell a whole story. Instead I ran out of time and decided to just get to the main idea behind the reaction.Masturbation Monday badge - small

Aug 212016
 

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On Twitter, as part of my independent self love goal, I wrote about not completing a task and forgiving myself for that. I was given a last minute (an hour) order to accomplish something and didn’t; I later told him I needed understanding and to keep in mind that it’s fair to ask 24 hour notice. While he agreed that there would be no punishment, and gave me a more simple task I could complete last minute (see picture), he will be “keeping in mind” that I didn’t do it as he asked last time. Yikes!

Tasks are something that I view as being very specific to power dynamics, and something that can be considered almost a to-do list. I don’t view tasks as something that is said in the moment (unless the scene is laid out) – they have to be thought of prior, and in my own experience have a deadline or time set aside.

A recent task I was given

In this regard, with this definition, I have only engaged in tasks with my husband – though I’m sure truly it could be applied to perhaps two other people, but with them power dynamics have been more present but not fully established. It is unquestionable to me that I obey my husband’s commands when it comes to sex and kink (granted that means that a safe word is still applicable and that my hard limits are respected). He also tends to push my comfort levels with tasks – visual in some regard, masturbation being the top requested thing (even during our scenes).

His tasks are almost always while we are separated, as he is a visual person and misses the sight of me, not to mention this is a way for him to continue our power dynamics while we aren’t close to each other – a reminder I need quite a bit of as I’m naturally more dominant in personality. I’ve written about some tasks he will give me:

“I want a picture…you will get dressed in your stockings we got you I like, with your crotchless panties, and take pictures. I want a couple of pictures of you playing with yourself and then in child’s pose. If you are feeling real frisky take your new plug and put it in, pull your underwear to expose yourself while in child’s pose, and take that picture. This may be hard to do but you can use your phone timer, or something, I am sure you can figure it out. Only need to send one picture, you can send more, but I think they will turn out good and we can use them for later [for the blog].”

He’s never before been so specific, so detailed, nor has he ever demanded a photo. In the past, he only hinted or suggested I take one for him.

I think this reflects that he is aware of more of what he likes and wants.

I think this also reflects that gradual change that has occurred in our relationship – he’s more dominant overall nowadays. – Tasks

When he got home some months later, he used a video he ordered me to make and had me watch it while we had sex. This was a hard task for me: for one, I struggle to keep my eyes open, for another I dislike how I look – the reason he had me watch: he told me how sexy he found me and how it turned him on, seeking for me to view myself more positively. (Watch)

Videos are challenging for me, and one of his favorite things, so I get video tasks quite often. I dislike doing them, they are out of my comfort zone, and yet I am excited that he likes them. If I didn’t receive positive affirmation, I may not do them at all (last time was a lukewarm response that I’m sifting through some emotions with – believing that it’s my own emotions versus his).

Because videos are such a challenge, I find loopholes all the time, and he is learning those loopholes. An example would be when he told me to wear something sexy, and I wore a flannel because I found that sexy; though I did give him one hell of a strip dance – another request for that particular task and one that made me feel mutinous. He also knows exactly when I will balk, and has learned that the consequence has to up the ante. The last time I became too busy to complete a task, there was a severe consequence that I am not anxious to repeat (this time he also picked out my clothes so that I would wear something he found sexy), though the my punishment was incredibly hot.

Even though we switch in our marriage, the power dynamics are firmly established when the switch takes place. If I am in charge and he tries to pull rank, I don’t put up with it and his body often feels my displeasure. He hates pain and it really isn’t part of our scenes where I dominate him, “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” (Pegging Again). My elbows tend to be pretty accurate and get the point across on a physical level that I am in charge.

I use tasks most often to dominate him, a handy tool I learned a couple years ago after many failed attempts to give him a scene that he envisioned but couldn’t verbalize, “I…do what I do best: I made a list of what I needed and what I was planning – though the planned part was vague so that he didn’t understand… I threw him the list. ‘Complete each one, wait before completing another as I have a task you need to do in between each step.'” (Lists will save me). 

Some tasks I’ve given him are:

  • cleaning out a wax warmer to put in massage wax (because I was lazy)
  • fingering me to orgasm
  • tying my velcro ties around the bed for his height
  • edging himself
  • finding items for the scene (again, lazy)
  • making me orgasm through sex a certain number of times without cumming
  • putting me in my strap on harness (I just need help with adjustments, but I make him do all the work).

I will also give him some video/phone/writing tasks while we are long distance. These are mostly so I can seek to understand something; for instance, I just recently asked him to think about and explain why he made the comment that I am not a hard enough bottom and that he may find our level of play unsatisfactory long term, also what kind of hard play he was referring to missing and what he got out of it. The comment hurt me, but I tried to understand what he was saying, and not putting my own feelings and implying it to his intention. When I ask for a masturbation video with specifics, I am looking for what he finds hot/sexy/how he touches and when.

So tasks are about power dynamics and firmly establishing/reaffirming them, but also to show care, support, and seek understanding. And then sometimes, they’re just hot and fun and filthy and wonderful.

Except for the rare exceptions, all of the tasks so far between the two of us tend to be incredibly masturbation-worthy.