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.

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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.

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

 

 

Aug 042016
 

Masturbation Monday badge - smallMy husband and I are still separated by distance as we attempt to repair our relationship, but we see each other on weekends, with phone and video calls getting us through the rest of the week. I requested he make me a video of himself masturbating so I could watch it during horny or missing moments.

He gave me a live show from the shower, his body soapy and slick as he ran his hands up and down over his skin, and stroked himself. My fingers drifted to the passion his vision created; I made sure he could see exactly what he inspired. We masturbated together.

When we were done, I again reminded about wanting the video. He told me he would (and did later that night), but that I needed to also make him a video by the next day.

We are already getting right back into the power dynamics, apparently, as he knew that making a video would be a challenge for me, so warned that there was a consequence if I didn’t. Unfortunately, not because I hesitated but just because I was busy that following day – I forgot.

I thought it was just a live show I put on for him as punishment, I was wrong…

He told me to lay a few out of my sexier (what he considered sexy, not me, learning from last time) clothes, take a picture, and he would decide what I was wearing. This was my first clue that he would be completely in charge and I was to have no say. Next, I did the same of my lingerie including stockings, then of the Doxy wand’s attachments. When he received all the pictures, he gave me a detailed list of items to have readily available and what to wear: lingerie under clothes, stockings, vibrator, wand with attachment.

I already strongly disliked this punishment, already it was more effort than just sending a video would have been.

When he called me that night, he told me to pick out music and strip dance, but to keep on the lingerie. Ugh, I didn’t want to move to music while he watched live, I couldn’t hit delete if I looked like an idiot. I’m sure I looked like a deer in the headlights as I slowly peeled out of the outer clothes.

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.

“Edge yourself with the wand,” I hesitated and he gave me a look that brook no argument. He wanted me to lay it on the bed and straddle it, in essence riding it. The attachment was already on and I slid my body on top of it. He wanted me to start on low and the vibrations felt so amazing to my already worked body. He told me to pinch at my nipples as I felt the pleasure between my thighs, and slowly he added another speed, eventually bringing the wand to high, commanding me to with hold from an orgasm – I pleaded with him to change his mind and give me some release. When I became far too overwhelmed and couldn’t resist, I jumped off of it, my chest heaving from the effort, beginning to sweat from the tension. He praised me, had me slowly and gently caress my body through the silky lingerie, and then edge myself again with the wand. I must’ve given him a look, because he followed through with a threat, and I begrudgingly straddled the toy again, immediately asking for an orgasm. Much quicker this time, I jumped off it, an orgasm threatening my overworked body.

My fingers would eventually be called on to bring me to an orgasm, again he set the tempo and the motion of how I was finger myself, promising that I would finally find my pleasure. I was to lay on the bed, my stocking legs spread to give him the best view, leaning up on one elbow so he could view my face. “Harder,” he would urge, “really fuck yourself,” and, “you can go deeper… you won’t be allowed to cum unless you really give it your best effort,” finally followed by the order, “cum”. Oh how my body and mind remember that word uttered from his mouth. The sound traveled across miles, from one receiver to another, and hit my body like thunder. I squirted, my fingers and wrist coated from the force, the bottom of my lingerie and the bed catching the drops of the tensioned storm.

Masturbation Monday Week 101I was gasping for breaths, great heaving intakes as if I had run the vast distance to him.

But this wasn’t the finale I thought it was, oh no! He had already pushed so many comfort zones in this punishment, already assured us both that I wouldn’t forget so easily next time, but he wasn’t done yet with me.

 

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 242016
 

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photo credit: Whisper via photopin (license)

photo credit: Whisper via photopin (license)

*This is the fourth post in a series of seven that ties in with a co-topping scene. I have included all previous posts with links in italics where relevant in the story.

**I am trying to get more comfortable with at least hearing dirty talk, as most people truly have no idea how uncomfortable it makes me and it is my issue to work through. (I’ve included links to the past where applicable.) My ex husband would buffer and help me in this, but I’ve had to truly push further and faster now that I’ve been single – and it isn’t with loving patience that he showed me.

Earlier in the day, I had sex with Tech Talk, where I introduced some kink – and without asking how I felt about it – he talked dirty to me while fucking me. Maybe he thought I would enjoy it, but it definitely took me out of my orgasmic head space. He said things like: “You like my cock deep inside of you,” and, “God you have a tight pussy.” It wasn’t shocking, my ex husband used to whisper things to me, mostly to get me to blush or because it made me uncomfortable, but it was odd to me for our very first time. Perhaps I am old fashioned, after all, a lot of the random hookups talked dirty to me so maybe it’s just the thing to do nowadays (I was out of the dating scene for 16 years, after all).

It probably is the thing to do nowadays, as I was a bit taken aback later in the day: I had mentioned in a previous post that I was called slut during a scene in which I was co-topped, so for the second time that day that I heard words that normally makes me slightly uncomfortable or blushing. He spun me around and told me to spread my legs, gripped my hair tightly in his fingers, “good girl,” he whispered against my ear.

Normally, that would break my head space (not that I was in one yet) and/or I would say that I don’t like the “girl”, but I had just read a post titled: I’m a Good Girl and that echoed in my head instead. Being called that in the moment oddly didn’t change my head space – didn’t affect me positively or negatively, so I said nothing. I still don’t want to be called that upon later reflection, but with the post just read that day, it was okay.

“Look at how eager the little slut is,” from the female top as I jumped up on the table when ordered to. I blushed (which gratefully I don’t think they saw as I was faced away at the time) and felt the need to defend the jumping action as I had to because I was too short to just climb up on the table – I didn’t say anything however, as to be honest: I was eager playing with these two.

“What a good girl,” he praised me several times throughout the scene, as I orgasmed again and again, or after he forced me to, or when I took a particularly hard impact without fighting against it; again the post I read echoed in my head and made the words okay – I was a good girl deserving of praise in those moments (though again that was in the moment, even writing about it weeks afterwards I felt nauseous writing this sentence so I’m clearly over the moment).

“Such a slut to spread your legs,” he admonished when I did spread my legs to give him or her better access when they would slap between my thighs. It made me very aware that I was instinctively doing the action, made me want to slam my legs shut modestly; I fought to keep them open anyhow. I felt the same when he said: “look at how she raises her cunt so I can get the perfect angle,” when he was caning between and on the inside of my thighs.

Sometimes compliments can even make me blush. Afterwards, when we were sitting in the kitchen, talking to others, he casually tossed in: “I loved hearing you cum. You have amazing sounds.” I felt flushed from embarrassment that he said something so publicly, and yet happy that he complimented my sounds, as I truly don’t want to hear myself (I’m sure I sound awful).”Your orgasms really sound fantastic,” he assured me (perhaps after seeing me blush?) that I should be on their podcast with my orgasms. Then he mentioned being spanked by the female again on their podcast, as the noises I made with impact would work well in that format. “You’re very reactionary – that really works for me,” he again reassured me, when I mentioned how I felt I wasn’t up to the level of impact that I’ve observed him engage in.

After a short break, the man wanted to hear my sounds again. As we headed towards a different room (very dungeon themed), he joked that he was going to “do rape-y things,” followed with, “rape you in a very consensual manner.***” Mm, just those words made me anticipate so much. I was naked and on the table very quickly, as he commanded, and this scene was crafted so beautifully as I felt that he was penetrating me in such a variety of ways with just his words. He began by telling a story of what he was doing to me, “if only you would allow penetration…” he would say from time to time…

as the hitachi buzzed against me he fucked me to multiple orgasms

…”I would tease against your tight little asshole before I rammed into you,” as I was on hands and knees and his fingers swept between my cheeks before his fist made rhythmic contact between my holes. It felt like he was penetrating me without penetrating me.****

Dirty talk is sometimes a lot of fun, I’m learning.

***I have a whole other post on this coming up.

****To hear how he does this, he describes this here in their podcast (45:15 to 46 minutes).

 

 

 

Jul 182016
 

*Continued from here

“I don’t care if she’s ready, I only care if you are,” he told the woman who was co topping me. He had discussed his plan to hit my thighs with a flexible bamboo stick and she would slap at my lips to a rhythm. I felt the ready question he asked previously was directed at me and I offered no protest, so when she agreed she was, they began.

It was a bit of humor in the scene, but I found myself intensely aware of the rhythms across one thigh, the slap in between my legs, and then the accompanying stings across the other thigh. He beat once, she slapped once, he echoed in with once again. He beat twice, she slapped twice, twice on the other thigh. This pattern was maddeningly to me, it was also very centering at I was not aware of my noises, any potential audience, my breathing, the impact – no, only the rhythm. It was becoming very aware of my present in such an odd way.

Eventually, he questioned the use of a Hitachi and I consented; I so badly wanted an orgasm after being denied one already.

When he placed the wand against my thin lace fabric, I squirmed- rather it was into or away from the sensation I can’t say.

The woman held my wrists and her soft lips grazed my nipple, her mouth gently sucked. Again, I felt grateful to be playing with both of these individuals and thought it was so fucking sexy.

I became very loud in volume when orgasm after orgasm was forced on me, with some impact occasionally thrown in – giving me a break to breathe but not cutting down any of my moans.

At one point 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. She stood behind my head and gripped my now sweaty hands in both of hers, I arched back a bit to look up into her face as she looked down, her hair cascading down either side. A further awareness that I was playing with a female – a rarity, and also that I would try to look at her while I was orgasming.

He placed the wand against my wet fabric and the buzzing so quickly overwhelmed my body. I shut my eyes, snapped them open, looked into her lovely eyes, shut, open, tried to keep them open, shut them, shuddered against the wand as I groaned through the build up and looked at her right when it finished, thanking her at the same time.

She praised me for trying so hard, stroked my sweaty hair as he stopped the wand and put it to the side. She offered to go get me water and he moved alongside where I laid, caressed my reddened thighs softly. He expressed that I wasn’t the wimp that I think I am.

They talked about everyday things as I sat comfortably listening and drinking my water, unhurried to get dressed or move. They welcomed anything that I had to say and listened respectful – I didn’t feel like an outsider even though I didn’t know them and they were already good friends.

Overall, it was an incredible experience and one that I would eagerly do again.

**There are five more concepts to this scene overall, as this was just a focus on the orgasm portion of it, although the next one is 12 hours of orgasms, maybe I should have had that be Masturbation Monday material.
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Jul 112016
 

 

photo credit: Light trails via photopin (license)

photo credit: Light trails via photopin (license)

I love the reverberations of the rope fibers as they pull.

The Wanderer’s light eyes were equally compelling as they looked down at me while he pulled rope through a loop he created in the center of my chest. As he created rope tension, it vibrated and drew me towards him – not physically, but I exhaled out as the rope moved out and away, and I wanted to step closer to his warmth and eyes.

Occasionally, his arms reached around the back of me, and I stood on tiptoe to breathe in his scent, my hands lightly caressed his shoulders and arms as my mouth tentatively kissed the side of his neck. I am a bit cautious in making any moves towards The Wanderer. Perhaps it was because Mimir and I had the power play dynamic that I wouldn’t, or perhaps it’s because I’m unsure what this particular man wants me to do. I’m fairly certain he finds me attractive, but that doesn’t translate to he wants me to touch him or kiss him. Still, when he didn’t stop me, my kisses became more open mouth, my hands clenched against him at times.

By the time he moved around my back, his own mouth was on my neck, sent tiny shivers of pleasures to radiate down.

The rope still circled and bound, and my hands now caressed and explored the play of muscles in his arms through his shirt as they manipulated the rope. “May I?” he asked as he kneeled in front of me, the rope pulled through my legs.

“Oh yes,” I don’t know whether I said those words out loud or some other murmur of consent, but at that moment it seemed an amazing place for rope to be since he was not. His fingers lingered as he adjusted the tension, the knot he would carefully place at the most tempting place. I looked down at his hair swept onto his forehead, at his lips that looked so kissable even though he tightened them from time to time in concentration.

Once he strung rope between my legs and tied the tension into my chest, every wrap around of the rope, ever reverberation of the fibers, added to the further throbbing need between my legs.

He would smile a certain smile when he would subtly increase the tension between my legs, that smile grew even further as I gasped my understanding of what he was intentionally doing. Those gorgeous eyes would dance in merriment as he looked directly at me.

He adjusted the strands to pinch between each nipple, wrapped the rope around my wrists and told me to hold on and not let go with the loose ends in the fleshy part of the hand between where the thumb and forefinger connect. It didn’t seem like an easy task to me, for as soon as he touched me I wanted to clench my hands and I would let go of the rope if I did so. I also discovered that if I moved my hands up, the rope became tighter between my legs.

Unfortunately he discovered that too, as when he kissed and caressed me, he would raise my hands and give a little sound of satisfaction with my gasp of pleasure/pain. The rope bit on my nipples and he would run his hands over the rope and tighten the pressure from time to time or just create a rippling sensation to flow through the ropes.

He bent me over the bed to spank me, the angle creating a sharp pinch between my lips that still made me melt around it. When my cheeks were sufficiently pink and warm, he pulled me up by the back of the chest harness and while the rope lessened between my legs, it pinched all the more firmly around my nipples.

As lovely as the tying is with The Wanderer, I far prefer his untying. It’s less focused on the rope (though he does an amazing job tying me and not just paying attention to the rope), slower, more sensual. My body is more warmed up, both to his touch and the binding rope. I have anticipated so many of his caresses, kisses, and even the surprising bit of pain from a pinched nipple or slapped ass. I want more and as the rope cascades and glides to expose my skin for him to touch, I begin to take shallower breaths in anticipating of it. Eliciting little moans of welcome when he finally decides to touch me in his task of uncovering.Masturbation Monday badge - small

May 292016
 

“Come up with something that you want to do, that you haven’t heard me mention before,” I suggested to him one balmy night in the hot tub as I sipped my wine and his hand gently roamed alongside me. He couldn’t keep his hands off of me, and in the hot tub I was more often than not in his lap being fondled. I made the suggestion because he was inexperienced and I had no clue what turned him on or what he desired – I was the stronger and more experienced force, but I wanted an indication of where he was at and what he wanted.

“Hot tub sex,” he suggested. “Have you ever done that?”

“Yes, and I’m not that fond of it,” I shrugged and set down my wine glass.

“Why not?”

“Because the water dries me up a bit,” but I leaned over to kiss him amid the steam and heat. Though perhaps me being not as wet would be a benefit with him, I thought. The bubbles concealed our lower halves as in between kisses I peeled us out of our attire, his mouth sucking a bit too greedily at a breast and leaving a mark that would last for a week.

I straddled him and slid him into my body, the water working against me but for the friction that can be absent when I am soaked from my own desires. I angled myself and wrapped my hands around his neck for balance and leverage as I raised and lowered myself on him.

The jets swirled and pushed between our bodies every time I raised up on him, added to my own sensations and helped keep me turned on. This session was about him and his fantasy – I really didn’t appreciate hot tub sex though I did appreciate the water creating a pleasurable tension to my body. I tightened upon him and heard his groan, felt my own slight crest of a climax, and tightened even further, increasing the tempo.

Water lapped at the sides as we created waves. I cried out as he did, enjoying it much more than I thought I would.

He couldn’t keep a sweet, goofy grin off of his face. “Is it just me or is it really hot in here now?” he asked when I pushed myself off of him and towards the step.

I’m sure my face was red – it always is in a hot tub and I had just worked hard for our pleasure amidst the heat. “Yes,” I said, taking that as a cue that he was also ready to get out. My foot swiped my bikini bottoms and I pulled them on before stepping out of the water.

He managed to squeeze back into his wet shorts and soon we were padding back into the house and headed towards the shower.

“Want me to wash  your back?” he offered, and I handed him the loofah and he scrubbed slowly at my back.

There were far sexier ways to clean each other, and I figured I should show him, so I shoved him against the shower wall once I was handed back the loofah and slowly began to circle his back with one hand and scratch with the other. He made a surprised noise as his chest and face slapped against the wall, but made no resistance.

Slowly, sensually, I used both the loofah and my hand across his back, his shoulders, his arms, down his butt – intermittently pressed my own body and glided it down his soapy surface, before I told him to turn around. I slapped his legs apart a bit and just as slowly rubbed down his outside of his thigh, calf, foot, up both of the insides of his thighs, my mouth inches from his growing cock, my breath felt on the tip. I paid no heed to it, and stroked and caressed and scratched up his inner thighs before taking a handful of soapy bubbles from off the loofah and giving him a hand job, looking up at his face as I kneeled between his legs.

He thoroughly enjoyed the shower, so much that he showed his appreciation by scooping me up and carrying me a dripping mess to the bed after we rinsed off.
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 Posted by at 8:46 am