Oct 302017
 

“Do you like her sucking your cock?” his wife asked in the backseat as he drove us to my house. Somehow I always knew that she would be that cool with another woman. Another bonus: I was using my truck the way I intended it – center console moved up so it’s a bench seat and I could have my mouth comfortably on a man as he drives. She was asking him how it felt and he described it as I gave him road head, before we reached our destination and all headed to my big bed together.

****************

“I taste you on your fingers. Were you touching yourself?” he whispered as he separated my thighs with his hips and drew my fingers deeply into his mouth. I blushed crimson into the dark room, though I’m pretty sure he didn’t need to see me to know that. “You taste so good.”

******************

I had no choice but to be spread open and grinding myself on the bed, as the positioning of the rope around my ankles and thighs kept me low to the bed and spread open, and the chest harness wouldn’t allow for me to move any further up, but the grinding might have actually happened once he placed the vibrator in me. Still, the bound position kept me low and bent over.

“This position is perfect for anal,” and my heart thudded with the thought that anal sex was what he had in mind as he applied lube against me. Instead, the plug hurt in a pleasurable way as he slammed it into me.

*****************

“It’s amazing how much you’ll hurt yourself for an orgasm,” he sounded amazed, but by this point Mr. Texas knows how I can get under the right circumstances. He continued to draw the curry comb against my nipples – or rather keep it pressed up against them as I scratched them back and forth painfully riding him. I would feel my nipples sore for a week, but the price was worth the pleasure.

 

****All different scenarios and times. Wicked Wednesday

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 152016
 

I had two people co-top me last night (*not actually last night). At first it began with a negotiation with a male, but after learning that I’m a wimp (by my own confession) and that I like sensations more than impact, he asked if I played with females. I don’t normally, but I have, so he asked another female if she wanted to join in since she was more sensation play. She agreed. I was nervous when I got the offer, but after the stressful morning, I thought why not and agreed.

She and I discussed some negotiation things – no genital touching (breasts were fine), no penetration, no marks other than what a bathing suit would cover, no blood or needle play; she asked about name calling (I admitted I had not experienced this and would let her know if I had an issue in the moment), and I warned that I can only handle lighter impact…unless I orgasm. That last part came into play because she asked when the last time I played was, and I was bemoaning the fact that I lost my crop.

“A crop? And you do light impact?”

“Well, I can take more from an orgasm.”

As the man came into the room 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.

I got undressed down to underwear.

She sat on a piece of furniture near me and watched as he pushed my back against a leather padded structure and asked about face slapping and hair pulling. “No to face, yes to hair,” I stated. He announced he would start out touching me, so he did, lightly and unhurriedly tracing his way up and down my body, looking for reactions. He commented to the female that my breasts felt amazing and that she needed to feel them. She stated she would in a minute, that she was watching.

He spun me around and told me to spread my legs, gripped my hair tightly in his fingers. He began to talk dirty to me, his mouth close to my ear, his words touched me before his hands.

He started with fingertips washing against my back side, and then light slapping of my ass. “She has a beautiful ass, you should smack it,” he suggested to the female and she did. I felt her nails softly scratch my skin across the skin she smacked.

It was a long scene, so I’ll skip around a bit…

A female’s soft mouth on my nipple, her tongue teasing the hardened tip, and seeing the way her hair swayed to the side, was unusual to me but it was nice. Her gracious lips would occasionally graze at my sensitive breasts throughout the scene, but that first time I viewed her bending over while I stood against the furniture stands out so vividly.

His vicious hands in my hair on either side were meant to hurt, and they did, keeping me centered and aware that he was in charge.  The Wartenberg Wheel’s tines kept my brain focused on my skin by offering the prickly sensations along it, even across my nipples.

She held my arms back and I melted against her softness in such a sharp contrast to the stinging impact of him slapping my inner thighs in front of me. I thought it was incredibly hot to be in between the two of them, thought of how lucky to experience such.

She would check in on me every so often – a calm reassurance.

I was ordered up on a table and blushed as it was discussed how eager I appeared. Fortunately for me, while I could feel the color in my cheeks, I don’t believe that they could see it.

His electrical wand came out and a large light bulb caressed and zapped its way down my body. The woman stepped away for a few moments – disliking electrical play.

Next my body was slapped, more lightly towards the breasts and rougher on the thighs. I am such a wimp at stinging impact but I hoped that I wasn’t disappointing them – I didn’t color or try to stop it, my body was sufficiently warmed up and I became conscious of just breathing and moaned through the hands reddening my skin.

And then my vulva was slapped – tentatively at first, a test of impact, and I groaned in a way that must’ve been encouraging. He began a rhythm and my noises clued in my obvious enjoyment…and perhaps just as obvious building of an orgasm as he stopped right before I could. I whined and he seemed very pleased with the denial, laughed and made a comment that wasn’t at all sympathetic.

He grabbed a flexible bamboo rod and told her of his plan to hit my thighs to a rhythm and that in between each hit, she would slap at my lips.

After he discussed the plan for all of a few seconds, he asked: “are you ready?”

“I’m ready,” she said after a moment, but I know the words were meant for me, to see if I would protest, if I was okay. I didn’t respond during that pause nor did I protest. I was anxious but far more curious.

“Good, I don’t care if she’s ready, I only care if you are. Little sluts are always ready.” For some reason we all laughed and continued laughing at the beat they played upon my body; the humor in the scene was refreshing. It wasn’t the first time I was called a slut in this scene, but it was the first scene that I had ever had name calling done and I still felt a bit odd about it – neither positive nor negative, rather indifferent.

*This scene has six more installments, as there’s a lot of firsts to discuss and dissect. The next one is here. And then to discover why I could achieve an orgasm without penetration, click here to read about earlier in the day.

**To hear the two people who co topped discuss (briefly) the negotiation (where I heard it was also their first time co-topping), click here and go from 37:20-38 minutes, and 40:20-40:30 (the whole part of safe words is a great thing to just listen to).

***To hear a later discussion of how the female views me as hetero-flexible (I would say she’s fairly accurate), click here and to go 34 minutes.

Feb 232016
 

[jwplayer mediaid=”5358″]

February Photofest Badge 2016Wicked Wednesday
f8

*This was written five months ago, during that time we’ve done far more and we’ve destroyed our relationship. I’m allowing this to post unedited. What prompted this was the #WickedWednesday prompt of a song on shuffle, for this prompt is the song “Hearts Without Chains” by Ellie Goulding, though honestly any song I hear reminds me of him right now in my heartbroken state.

Before I met my husband, I was fighting my sexual desires: my high sex drive, my kink fantasies, my openness. I had a lot of negative opinions of myself, and I was trying to tamper down most of my natural inclinations. Here’s some things that I’ve accepted:

1. Squirting In thinking about it, I don’t believe that he was first person that I’ve done this with; however, he is the first person that can make me do this with ease. (Unfortunately, I also have an issue with this, due to his reaction the first time we realized I did this.)

2. Multiple partners I’ve definitely been promiscuous, and I’ve been in poly amorous relationships before, but I’ve never had sex with my partner in the same room – whether it’s threesome or swapping partners, until him.

3. Anal stimulation I was the woman who criticized anal play with women, stating I had no idea why they would like that (men made sense as I knew about the prostrate at least with them). Now, I occasionally like a bit of stimulation, and I like the full sensation of a plug while having sex. Pegging is also new to me, something I didn’t see myself ever doing, but his enjoyment is pretty awesome to watch.

4. BDSM I don’t necessary see us as engaging in this, but others do, and I’m a bit surprised at it. Still, since meeting him, I have explored a lot of aspect of this.

  • Impact play
  • Power dynamic
  • Choking
  • Intentional pain (I was used to bruises or rough sex, but never an intentional pain)
  • Orgasm control
 Posted by at 7:25 am
Jan 142016
 

My first kiss was with an asshole. He still was one hell of a kisser though. It was the first time I felt a stirring of horniness. We were laying on the carpet in a room, and he was pressed fully on top of me. My knees kept wanting to bend – whether to further embrace him or relieve some pressure on my lower back I can’t remember – he kept pushing my knees down. It was a short relationship – that may have been the only time I kissed him.

*

My husband’s and mine first kiss took place in the parking lot in front of a casino. It was a chaste kiss – no tongue, we were just friends, and he picked me up until I was eye level to him. I wrapped my legs around his waist for added support, smiled at him, and leaned down and gave him a small kiss on his luscious lips. It took all of a second.

*

The minute I knew we were no longer just friends was when his breath washed over my sensitive skin, washed away my reservations, as we cuddled in a bed one night. We were drinking with the sleeping sun, joking and talking as close friends do. Then he leaned in close, swept my hair aside, and just breathed. My neck betrayed the erotic pulse beat beneath the exposed skin. Bold suddenly which was unlike him, he leaned in and those plump lips grazed the pulse, tongue tentatively dipped and tasted my heartbeat which was forever his afterwards. All my nerve endings came from where he kissed.

The the first move, the first real reaching out sexually, and the fact that he was so shy and still started it surprised us both.

I moaned, pressed against his mouth, let it melt and meld my inhibitions. I rolled over and pressed my lips to his, this time my tongue dived in his mouth and became the aggressor, plundered. My hands and legs wrapped around him, closing any division between us. It was his turn to be surprised. (Breaking Walls)

*

A threesome years ago created a hot moment. My husband grabbed my throat, looked me in the eyes and told me to hold me still, his eyes a steady calm gaze in a passion filled fogged to my own, his mouth kissing mine as another man’s mouth kissed between my legs.

It was during a moment that I had already had so many orgasms that I was beginning to want to stop due to being overwhelmed.

I was on my hands and knees, my boyfriend laying underneath me, his hands wrapped around my thighs, his gifted tongue between my legs. He had his tongue and lips pierced and the metal would add harder sensations amidst soft lips and wet tongue. I squirmed away as much as possible, so overloaded on pleasure and overly sensitive. Every grazing of his mouth or tongue would shoot sparks of pleasure deep into my pussy and create a tighten that would add up quickly to another orgasm. His arms wrapped tighter on my thighs, his hands gripped and pushed me further upon his mouth.

And I continued, despite being so overwhelmed, because there was my husband urging me to do so with his kisses and commands. (Something I masturbated to for awhile)

*

I love first kisses. The shy or bold eye contact, the leaning in, maybe grazing skin at certain parts of the body or hands softly exploring, the almost fearful or anxious breath that both exhibits, the way the lips extend a bit in not quite a pucker, the first meeting of the lips, how one person may open just a bit in invitation, how another person may pillage their way in. I am always curious if they kiss with

wet

dry

aggressive

timid

just tip of tongue

a lot of tongue

a thick tongue

a hardened bolden tongue

suction

all over the mouth

only tilt their head to one side and are crap at the other

take my breath away

allow air to come between our lips

kiss with their whole body

make noises

dominate my tongue or lips

….and so many other ways. That first moment is magical, even if we’re not compatible. It’s a merging of two bodies wanting to connect on such an intimate level.

*

Sometimes I feel like the movie prostitute who states no mouth kissing – I do not need mouth kissing to have sex. I can kiss someone everywhere and have them kiss me everywhere and yet our mouths do not need to touch. So when I do kiss someone on the mouth, it somehow feels more intimate, and somehow more dangerous. I could get their colds; they could steal my heart.

*

On the opposite end of the spectrum, my husband calls himself a mouth whore. That man loves to kiss on the mouth, and when he’s drinking he becomes a bit more inviting of others to kiss him. Kissing is one of his favorite activities and he can do just that for hours.

Kink of the Week is on kissing. I would consider this a real kink of my husband, and a love of mine.

 Posted by at 6:19 am
Jan 082016
 

A few years ago, I had a boyfriend that would visit from time to time when my husband and I first attempted polyamory (it was a spectacular flop). He lived far away, but either he or I would catch a plane and spend the some days together. The rare times he visited when my husband was home, we would have a threesome (I believe it totaled three times).

My husband is always a bit assertive in ensuring I have many orgasms, it’s a fantastic gift he has. Fingers and mouths were on my skin, and it happened so long ago that the details are a bit blurry. I had sex with my husband while my mouth kissed and sucked my boyfriend.

What does stick to my thoughts, because this is what turned me on so strongly afterwards, is that after many orgasms already, I was on my hands and knees, my boyfriend laying underneath me, his hands wrapped around my thighs, his gifted tongue between my legs. He had his tongue and lips pierced and the metal would add harder sensations amidst soft lips and wet tongue. I squirmed away as much as possible, so overloaded on pleasure and overly sensitive. Every grazing of his mouth or tongue would shoot sparks of pleasure deep into my pussy and create a tighten that would add up quickly to another orgasm. His arms wrapped tighter on my thighs, his hands gripped and pushed me further upon his mouth.

My husband grabbed my throat, looked me in the eyes and told me to hold me still, his eyes a steady calm gaze in a passion filled fogged to my own, his mouth kissing mine as another man’s mouth kissed between my legs. When it became too intense, when I felt I was too sensitive and began squirming once again, his one arm wrapped like a vice around my body, the other around my neck and head, and his mouth by my ear whispered to cum. It was one of the first times I obeyed a command, though my boyfriend’s mouth was creating such pleasure that listening to that order was simple.

It was a perfect moment, as I was swept up in a storm of sensations that began to engulf me to the point where I was ready to call for a stop, when his voice, his calm, anchored me and made me feel safe to become so carried away.

The utter control of both men, the complete fixation on my pleasure, them working so beautifully together for that experience, that is something that I masturbated to for quite awhile.

Masturbation Monday Week 71

 Posted by at 7:40 am
Oct 082015
 

Written for an inspired competition from Sex Blog of Sorts.

*Contains violent acts and what could be considered consensual non consent

She came to me all dressed up, flawless hair and makeup, as if she knew that the destruction of such well kept looks would tempt me even further. Her lipstick matched her nail polish. Almost cocky, she said it was the color “O”, as if it was a demand that she would be getting.

My friend walked into the room at that moment and grabbed her arms, forcing them behind her. Coming from behind, her eyes widened in shock and her mouth made a little O as she cried out. I could smell her fear and hear her panicked breathing as I strode across the room. I thought perhaps she would cry out, but she seemed to revive herself and stared at me instead.

It was all the permission I needed. While my friend tied her wrists behind her, making her proud chest stand out, I took out my knife and made she that her wide eyes focused on it before pressing the blade to her throat, drawing it along her collarbone, and slashing down the center of her dress. She wore no bra, and steel traced the pale globes and trailed down her stomach.

I wondered if she breathed, as her body was as still and silent as the room.

My friend kneed her behind the knees and she kneeled down in front of me, her beautiful lipstick still perfectly in place. I handed my friend the knife so he could strip away her dress from off her arms and took the pad of my thumb and smeared the color across her face, into a grotesque clownish smile.

I went to take off my belt and she must’ve thought that my pants would follow, as she licked those stained lips, whether in anticipation or nervousness I could have cared less. I would have been happy with either reaction. I moved behind her, my friend moved in front, and it was his fly that came down. She turned her head, but he grabbed her chin and pressed into her jaw, telling her to open.

My belt came down upon her back. She jerked, her body instinctively moved away from the impact and her mouth came around my friend’s erection. I warned her to be good to him, as I eased the force of the belt upon her skin and kept a rhythm that would keep her warm but not struggling. When he pulled out of her mouth, I crisscrossed her creamy hue with harsh red shades. Her body tried to move away from me, her back arched and her knees crawled a few paces.

She still said nothing.

I yanked her hair, forced her back into her kneeling position, as he slapped her breasts and twisted her nipples painfully. She cried out, the cry sounding more like the “O” she wanted than a plea. His hands explored and pushed her against me, offering no solace for the direction that she had chosen.

I pulled her up and pulled the material out of my pocket, using it as a gag. I smiled at the picture of the colored lips on either side of the material. Once tied off, my hand went to her tied hands and she squeezed. It was all the encouragement I needed.

My friend kicked at her calves until she spread her legs and our hands took turns striking her pale supple flesh, his still on her breasts and mine on her thighs and ass. With her legs spread, I could smell her arousal; see the faint wet line through her fabric. I bit into her ass with need and she tensed under my teeth, her groan mingled with the slaps still being inflicted in front of her.

I moved around in front of her and he began untying her wrists, as if we both knew that she needed to lie down. I yanked down her undergarment, fully revealing her. As I straightened, I relished seeing the mascara trailed tears mingling with smeared lipstick and gag.

She was beautiful.

I reached down and propelled the palm of my hand to connect with her lower lips. She moaned and her eyes shut, and I smacked her again and again until my own hand stung in her juices.

She was so wet.

We moved her to the bed and her gaze was frantic with need, with fear of the unknown. Her body glistened with sweat and painted in reddened marks. My knees parted her thighs and I dragged my fingernails against her red welted lower lips, the color almost perfectly matching her lipstick and nails, pressed my fingers deep against her plump folds, pressed the pain deeper. She screamed and my friend untied her gag as if to hear the musical sound of it, bent down and kissed her salty stained tears.

I wondered if her mouth tasted delightful and alarmed; she smelled it.

My fingers slipped inside her depths as he fucked her face, our movements eventually synching into the same pattern, his relentless hips and guttural groan spurring my fingers on, my other hand raining down on her thigh. She drenched my fingers when she choked, whimpered and mewled.

As he left her, I flipped her over and entered her. She begged, pleaded, cried for her lipstick’s namesake. I pounded into her, bit into her side. He flogged her back as I tugged my mouth away. I ordered her to tighten, to come around me, and she obediently did as she was told.

As I pulled away and she crawled into my friend’s lap, I saw the beginnings of her bruises. I knew she would be pleased with the results, would marvel over them for days.

She had asked for this brutality and beast that I was, I was more than happy to give it to her.

Jul 092015
 

Want to read the first part where she is hunted and captured? Though fiction, based on real events. Please do not ask me where or when this event takes places, this is a private event.*

She had been hunted in the woods, discovered hiding, and captured. Once the hunter recorded his prize, she began to strip out of her clothes. She took her time and saw around the corner of the recording tent some of the prey already tied to the posts. There weren’t many posts left and that gave a brief moment of satisfaction that she was one of the more challenging prey to find.

And then her apprehension about now being naked and wrists tied to a post came back. She gulped nervously. A postmaster came up to her and tied her wrists together and then pulled her into the spectator’s view. She walked past many of the posts with people being played with by the spectators. She heard the calling out of people watching, the groans or moans of the prey upon their posts. She tried not to look at anyone, tried to be aware of putting one foot safely in front of the other in a semblance of steady forward motion. Funny how difficult it was to just walk.

The postmaster found the post with her name on it, her hard limits underneath. While the spectators waited for the prey to be caught, they would often wander among the posts and look for names of prey they knew or curiously read the limitations of playing with each prey. Often, the spectators knew who they wanted to play with just based on the limits.

Her wrist bindings were attached to the rope at the post and raised above her head. The postmaster slowly positioned them, and checked with her level of comfort. It was a friendly female, and her voice was soothing. As she walked away, the postmaster smacked her ass hard. She yelped and jumped a little, startled. Taking a calming breath, not quite brave enough to face the spectators, she put her forehead to the post in front of her and willed herself to relax.

“Oh lovely, we’ve been waiting for you,” she heard a male voice that she recognized say behind her shoulder. His hand softly stroked her back, awakening her skin to his touch; it reminded her of a person approaching an apprehensive dog and letting it sniff their hand, getting the pet accustomed to the smell before petting it – she smiled at the idiotic analogy.

The “we” in that statement was a male and female friend of hers. She felt calmer, grateful that it was people that she knew that would first touch her.

The male spun her to the side, with her face to the spectators and the female friend; she chose to focus on the female within touching distance. Her friend gave her a large smile and winked in encouragement right before she felt a flogger hit her back. Surprised, her wrists tried to move down, but remained above her head, bound. He started with a slow and smooth rhythm, the leather tips almost hypnotically caressing her back and ass. The female moved closer and reached up to stroked the inside of her wrists beneath the rope, trailing a sensual path down her arms. The inner parts of her upper arms were so sensitive to the fingertips that grazed her. Her body began to focus on the sensations in front and back of her rather than the people watching. The woman smiled as if understanding, and then traced down to her breasts, softly circling around before fingertips pinched each nipple and tugged up. The pain was sharp and immediate; she stood on tiptoes to try to alleviate it but could only rise so far.

The flogger bit into her back with force and she jumped a bit on tiptoes to the delight of the male and female around her.

“Down on your feet,” the woman instructed and she obeyed, coming off of tiptoes as the woman released her nipples. The flogger continued to thump and bite into the back of her body and she tried to brace her body still. “Spread your legs,” and the woman reached down into a bag and pulled out a battery-powered wand.  She felt her cunt clench, and with the heat and pain that he was creating, she was looking forward to the pleasure that the woman promised.

She spread her legs and the man paused in his administrations. His hand went around her neck, his body pressed into the back of her body, as if to hold her still, but with wrists tied her movements weren’t that free – and she had no desire to get away. She felt his erection through his jeans, his body a source of strength that her hot body grateful leaned against. She felt more than saw the wand positioned between her legs, briefly touching her thigh before it found her clit.

She moaned softly at the vibration. He moved away from her and her backside reverberated with the force of a paddle, increasing the vibrations somehow of the wand pressing to the front of her.

As the woman held the wand steady against her thrumming clit, the man paddled her ass and then moved to the front and caught her breasts a few times, a bit softer but no less painful. They felt heavy and hot from just a few hits. She felt her body tensing in pleasure, and felt a touch self conscious of coming close to orgasm outside in front of an audience.

He moved behind her and the sharp bite of a cane bit into her upper thighs. She whined a bit and the woman removed the wand. “No,” she gasped in disappointment, so close to an orgasm.

Someone came up and with the thin rod of a stick marked her inner thighs, drenched by now with her desire. She didn’t know this stranger, didn’t try to look at him, as her male friend softly stroked her throbbing ass and heated back with the barest of fingertips. Now it was her front inner thighs on fire while the back of her body was being soothed, and she felt overwhelmed with the sensations. The stranger moved on and her female friend was back with the wand, without hesitation firmly pressing it to her sex, and while the male again continued his rough assault on her back, she came.

Her thighs shook and felt her whole body tense with the effort to stand but oddly also relax into the earth. The bindings at her wrist helped her remain upright, reassuring, and the woman, as if knowing what she needed, pushed the side of her body against the pole for further support. Another stranger came up with a spatula and rhythmically struck the exposed side of her body, rotating between the hip and thigh, increasing the impact force until she squirmed, before chuckling and moving onto the next prey.

She felt exhausted, she was barely aware of her friends sensually stroking up and down her body, only awakening to a sharp slap on some expanse of skin or an implement – though they used those sparingly now.

Someone over the loudspeaker announced that the round was over and all the prey had been caught. Gratefully, a postmaster came over and lowered her wrists, untying her. The male friend was still there, pushing her into the pole forcefully and wedging her there with his body as she was untied, and then scooping her in his arms to carry her to their shady tent on the outskirts of the spectator’s arena.

She wasn’t sure she could walk, and was immensely grateful for his assistance. The female friend grabbed the toys and a bottle of water and followed along, sinking into the blanket where she was lowered. They wrapped her and praised her, the male holding her still on the ground, the female taking a few moments and then taking the bounty to the hunter who had caught her in the first place.

It was such a unique, exhausting, awesome experience.

 Posted by at 6:10 pm
Aug 272014
 

He looked in the mirror, astounded.

“Do you not remember?” A female’s voice inquired, somewhere behind him.

He remembered blood soaking the previously dried and cracked ground, seeing his own hands shaking and covered in red.

He turned around and looked at her. She was beautiful, topless. Loose pant fabric covered her lower body.  She proceeded cautiously towards him and the gigantic bed he had woken in, in the middle of the room. Why did she proceed cautiously?

“He doesn’t seem to,” another voice said, an almost identical version of the other woman. She too walked slowly, not removing her eyes off of him.

“Remember what?” he asked.

He remembered cold water washing away the blood, the cracks in the dirt suddenly swollen with the clear liquid to the point of a stream running suddenly. The water felt freezing against his sore knees and sweaty skin.

“Come,” a voice had commanded, and a warm hand gripped his still bloody one. The voice sounded similiar to the females now.

“Becoming king,” the answer brought him out of his reverie.

“Wh-how?” He turned back towards the mirror. His body felt like it had been shredded but he didn’t even any marks on him at all. He was naked and not even a scratch marred his skin.

“The lion.”

He flashed to a roar like the sound of thunder, felt his shoulder tear and rip. He stumbled, a branch in his hand, and spun around. The lion leapt at him, impaling itself on the ragged branch, hurt and swiping at him. He scrambled away, stood and gripped the branch, clubbed the beast on the head, desperately tried to stay out of the path of the claws and felt them rake his leg anyhow. His leg almost gave out and he swung again, and again, the pain ripped through his shoulder, screamed of what he was sure was his death song, his agony and rage.

And when the blood spilled on the parched earth, when the beast went still, he collapsed.

One of the women left his sight from the mirror and he spun around. She was stirring the fire in the large fireplace, knelt on the pelt of a lion…the lion? She saw his look, smiled, and patted the fur. “You saved us, our land is alive again,” she said simply. “Come,” she crooked a finger and beckoned him to come to her, loosened the belt of her pants.

“Come,” she had said then, and the water continued to rise. He gripped her hand, stunned, shocked, unaware that he moved to stand. She led him to the grass that grew right in front of him, that thickened and became soft under his feet. She forced him to lay down on his back beside a trunk of a tree, the leaves sprouted slowly and before his very eyes unfurled and reached out. The hot and burning sun didn’t seem as fierce suddenly. She left him and returned with a pail of the water. She poured small amounts of the water on his shoulder – it cooled and healed. Suddenly there was the second woman who kneeled behind his head, rubbed his muscles, her hands brushed off the dirt and blood, the gore and death. She leaned over and gave him an odd kiss on the lips, then moved alongside him and stroked his skin.

Her breath was hot on his skin beneath his ear before she began sucking and licking. He clung to her, held onto her heat and invitation of body, the other woman still softly poured water, cooling him, made his pain subside. Or was it the excitement, desire, suddenly taking his mind off of his torment?

His body had other pressing needs; he felt himself grow and stiffen, and hands stroked and encouraged until he was hard with need. He felt a tongue swirl along the top, explore the underside of the head, stroke up and down the shaft, before the mouth popped the head inside and wet warmth slid up and down the length of him.

The other mouth moved from his neck and trailed down to his chest, her soft hair floated across his shoulder – no longer burning in anguish, brushed across his chest, feathery lightness following her kisses. Hands caressed his thighs.

Hands caressed his thighs and he looked down, so lost in the memory that he was oblivious he had walked to the pelt and the woman who summoned.

“Didn’t we…?” he trailed off. How to question such a delicate subject? Who knew if he dreamed, was still dreaming?

She smiled up at him, placed a chaste kiss above his knee, not taking her dark seductive eyes from his gaze. “Yes,” she placed another kiss, reached up for his hand and pulled him down. She cupped his cheeks and pulled him towards her for a kiss. Hands roamed his back – the other woman? “Yesterday the earth needed a sacrifice of blood and pleasure to thrive.”

“Today it is about our pleasure, and celebration of our new King,” the other voice spoke quietly behind him before kissing the back of his neck.

He felt himself stirring and hardening. He reached for soft breasts, squeezed their weight in his hands. Later, he would try to remember, to figure out how he ended up here in his traveling.

Right now, it was good to be the King.

 Posted by at 12:43 pm