As my D/s relationship with MasterDoc develops, the focus can change over time. When I first met him of course the focus was teaching me precisely how he likes to be pleasured, getting me to remember to say “Sir,” and training my ability to come at his command. On the service side of things he taught me what chores he wants me to do, and how to prepare things how he likes them, etc.
Recently I’ve felt like there’s a shift – the shift hasn’t happened just yet but it feels like a new phase of our relationship is ready to begin. I’ve been contemplating for at least a week now telling him that if he wants me to lick his ass, then I would respect him even more if he made me do it despite my dislike of the activity. I think I’m at the point now where him making me do a few things I dislike (but know full well won’t harm me) is the way to go. Not so much to exercise power, but I think he, as the Dom, should feel free to engage in whatever experiences he would like to – and not give as much concern over what I like to do.* Of course, I’ve hesitated to say anything because I’m worried this is a case of “be careful of what you wish for!” But I feel like I need to take another step into being his submissive on perhaps a deeper level than before. We’re at a point where if he makes me lick his ass I’m not going to consider leaving him. If he pisses in my mouth I’m not going to leave him. I don’t like these activities and hope they don’t become frequent, but I feel like if he’s the Dom then he should use me as he likes.
We’ve watched a lot of porn on theupperfloor.com lately and it’s been giving him all sorts of ideas. The forced exercise I found too painful to watch. I hate exercise but can handle it better if I’m doing it by myself and of my own volition. But the scene where the slave was hooded (and therefore couldn’t see) and forced to scrub the floor while the dominant whipped or fingered her – that was damn hot. Just scrubbing a floor isn’t hot to me. But being in some sort of bondage/blindfolding/gagging and being watched over by the man who delivers such delicious torment to me, that would be hot.
The Upper Floor has also made me crave kinky parties where I could serve and be toyed with by the guests freely. Not only toyed with but perhaps also gang-banged.
MasterDoc and I talked briefly about the idea of things like positions the sub needs to learn and use in certain situations. He was never into that, but I’ve been curious about it and now feels like a time to maybe delve into some of that, to maybe have a little more protocol than we currently have? (We’ve never been big on protocol other than calling him Sir and being respectful and obedient.) I’m also wishing for more bondage in my life.
All this is dependent on what MasterDoc wants and thinks is right. I’m merely expressing my willingness and desire to go a little further into submission and service to him. I feel like I need to be pushed a little.
* This meaning that of course I hope my needs will still be met, but I think he should feel more latitude in making me satisfy his needs even if I find an act distasteful.
The weekend was pretty mellow since I wasn’t feeling well. Before I came down with something, I was feeling needy Friday night. DeeDee had just come back from a few days away, so of course intellectually I realized she should get more of MasterDoc’s attention. But probably because I was starting to feel ill, I became easily cranky when I thought I was being left out. Internet porn was put up on the big, flat screen tv and MasterDoc stroked his cock and DeeDee’s pussy. I took up rubbing my own, but my discontent at what I perceived as being ignored prevented me from getting into it. Ironic thing is that as soon as I stopped, MasterDoc asked why because he had been watching me play with myself. So the feeling of being left out or disconnected to what was going on was merely my perception. But the perception is enough to make me feel like it’s real.
I had a bit of a meltdown and MasterDoc hurried me off into the playroom. He gave me a quick beating, followed by a really hard finger fucking. He made me come over and over, and I was left exhausted. He’s figured out that my anxieties over being left out or ignored can easily be fixed by making me come. I don’t need a ton of attention, once I’ve come I’m much more mellow and able to enjoy watching. He invited me to join him and DeeDee, but I was feeling like I wanted to be alone rather than part of a threesome. I went to bed early that night and woke up sick early the next morning. You know I’m sick when I don’t have the energy to even consider fucking.
The following day I had hit that point where I’m still sick, but I have just enough energy to be horny. I didn’t have energy to be much of an active participant, but MasterDoc handled that by putting clover clamps on my nipples. It hurt like crazy, but I am getting used to them. I can wear them a while without freaking out over the pain. He told me to speak up when the pain got too much. He then proceeded to fuck me silly from on top. I’d notice the pain in my clamped nipples now and then but then I’d get lost in the pleasure of being fucked and the pain would register as pleasure for a while. This reminds me of a bdsmer I dated briefly years ago. He played with my nipples on a deserted Manhattan street – twisting them for the longest time. I remember the sensation would hurt, then go slightly numb and then turn me on totally. This wasn’t just one cycle, but over and over the cycle would go while he continued twisting.
After fucking and making me come over and over, MasterDoc took the clamps off quickly to try to reduce the length of the worst pain. When you remove clover clamps they hurt even more than when you were wearing them. The blood rushes back into the compressed nipple and is agonizing. My nipples were tender for the rest of the day.
I was pretty worn out, but we still had bdsm porn playing on the laptop. I started masturbating and MasterDoc gave me the order to come, stroking his cock while watching me. I could feel liquid squirt out of my cunt and splash my hand. I left a wet spot on the throe.
He had mentioned recently that watching a woman lick/suck the pussy juice off her fingers is hot, so I made a display of licking my soaking wet fingers clean. He suggested I do that next time we do a show.
He asked if I was ready to be fucked again and despite some fatigue I was happy to get more. He fucked me from behind, hard and for what seemed like a long time. He had me tilt the laptop so he could watch the porn. Think about it guys – kinky porn right next to the shuddering form of the woman you’re fucking, who is moaning in delight and eager to come. He made me come for a long time again. I think I squirted some more. I moaned incessantly as my face pressed into the mat. I was a little sweaty and a lot tired after, but oh so happy.
I’m not in a place where I feel comfortable putting my face and name here. I long to, but I understand the reality of needing a steady job. Instead, today I want to talk about accepting myself as bisexual (or pansexual) – fully, not in name only.
Last night I spent the evening with Blondie. She came over my place to watch movies (although I think we all know that such a plan is mostly an excuse to get together with someone). We only vaguely started La Dolce Vita and then later Coco Before Chanel. Both times we ended up talking or she initiated some cuddling and kissing. I still have such trouble initiating, which takes things to an absurd extreme considering a few weeks ago she fingered me to orgasm at a play party. If she wasn’t one to take the initiative, we would have just sat side by side on my sofa for hours.
I’ve written here before about the idea that I probably have some internal homophobia that goes on. I find that I was socialized for so many years to be just friends with women, that I have trouble acting like (and thinking that) I’m dating a woman. I’ve known for a very long time that I like women in pretty much the same way I like men – sexually and romantically. I first embraced the bisexual identity about 10 years ago when I stopped thinking, “Oh I like fantasizing about women, but I don’t think I want to actually do anything.” and had an epiphany that I really do like women. And yes, I want to date them, kiss them, make love to them, fuck them silly – just like I like doing with men. (In more recent years I’ve started opening myself up more to different gender representations, such as the crush I had on a wonderfully androgynous woman I sorta kinda dated briefly. And I’ve discovered that I like transmen. I have yet to become intimate with a transman, but the desire is there.)
It was lovely last night – she positioned herself so her legs were over my lap, and we would both caress whatever body parts were in reach now and then while we watched one of the movies. She asked if it was okay if she sat like that, and thankfully I can at least say, “Yes, I like this,” and articulate that her advances were not unwanted in the least. There have been women I’ve been “involved” with over the past 10 years who were just sexual playmates, but I find with Blondie that the experience is much fuller. I’m hot for her, for sure, and think it’s sexy and bold that she’s done a lot of porn in the past. But I also find her to be smart, fun to talk to, pretty and wonderful to cuddle with. She’s not just a porn actress to me, I like knowing her in her role as mother of two young children, or as someone who has studied Chinese medicine.
Thanks to her, things progressed and lots of touching, kissing, cuddling moved on to clothes coming off and nipples being sucked. (I love her nipples by the way.) While my intellectual brain sees nothing wrong with same-sex relationships, I think there’s a small part of me that has to check in with myself constantly to reassure myself that there’s nothing wrong with feeling desire for a woman and acting on it. I want to blame the Catholic church for this, as that’s how I was raised and I’m sure it has had an impact on me despite my renouncing religious faith of all kinds in my life.
Touching her, and being touched, was wonderful. She shyly checked in to see if I minded all the caressing, and I pointed out that I am a glutton for touch. I massaged her clit through her adorable new leopard print undies. She pulled mine down a bit and kissed and licked near my “landing strip” of pubic hair. Things didn’t progress into full-on sex as I was remiss in making sure I had gloves around. She prefers going the safer sex route even though she admits that the chances of transmitting infection via manual stimulation are pretty low. While I find that manual stimulation with bare hands to be an acceptable level of risk (for me), I can completely respect her wishes to use gloves. Hey, no glove, no love! So while there was teasing, tantalizing and lots of glorious foreplay, we didn’t fuck. I didn’t mind. I would have loved to fuck her, but spending time with her and being affectionate was really enough to make me happy.
But of course I will be sure to get some gloves for my place. *grin*
So I declare, on this National Coming Out Day, that I am dating a woman and am truly happy that I’m doing so. I identify as pansexual these days as bisexual just reinforces the whole gender binary thing (which isn’t really accurate). I like Blondie a great deal, and hope that things will continue to develop between us.
My coming out here isn’t really a revelation for my readers. I’ve been openly pansexual, kinky, poly and slutty for a long time here. But I needed to stand up and declare for myself that I am who I am, and who I am is just fine.
It seems that my love of submission to MasterDoc just continues to deepen. We spent time recently at my place with the intention of “christening” it. (I’ve lived there for nearly a month and hadn’t yet had sex there.) I found that as he teased me with a scary, humiliating act I didn’t want to do, I only wanted him more. The flutter in my stomach that comes from the idea of him humiliating me leads right to my groin and turns me on. I have a fetish for being in someone else’s control. The idea of MasterDoc making me do something that I don’t want to do is hot.
The act itself, however, is not at all hot for me. That is, while I’m wildly turned on by the power he has over me, I’m not so much turned on by the idea of him pissing in my mouth. He has threatened it for a long time now and I could feel that it was coming soon. Very soon.
He teased me mercilessly about pissing in my mouth for this momentous occasion. The thing is it wasn’t teasing and I knew it. Part of me was so turned on by him exerting that kind of control over me. Part of me was terrified as the idea of having piss in my mouth just totally grosses me out. Part of me wanted to go quietly, stoically and be the good sub. But a huge part of me wanted to see if there was some way I could avoid it.
We spent time laying close on my bed. He talked to me about what he planned to do to me and he made me come in what has become the usual way – verbally. I was overwhelmed with humiliation whenever he made me think about what he planned to do (not to mention disgusted). I would do my best to let my mind wander and forget what was coming.
He took me into my bathroom and had me kneel in the tub. He positioned himself so he could pee on me without getting the floor messy. I was so anxious! Thankfully, he got too hard to pee and just had me suck his cock. Then we fucked like he had promised we would do after the piss scene. Earlier in the day he had fucked me silly and this time was the same. His every touch and every thrust feels divine. He spanked me a bit as well.
I rested in his arms after. He continued with the mind fuck of telling me he was going to piss in my mouth. I tried putting it off. I tried anything I could think of to maybe make him not do it – to no avail. And while I was scared and humiliated I was also wildly turned on and in his thrall. Of course, this arousal makes me feel more ashamed because I’m aroused by something disgusting, which only serves to arouse me more. Yes, I’m a sick freak.
He teased me about my trying to put off the inevitable. He decided that until I decided I was ready, he would drink water – lots of water. He guzzled a couple of liters, easily. Eventually it was the moment of truth and he took me back into the bathroom. He had me kneel in the shower again, told me to bend down a little and turn my head so my mouth was right by his unfortunately flaccid cock. He ordered me to turn my head. He ordered me to open my mouth. And as a good sub ever striving to be pleasing, I did. He peed into my mouth.
Now I should have mentioned that all through the teasing, he was also filling my head with the notion that I would enjoy the act, that it would please him, and that I could orgasm when his piss hit my mouth – and wouldn’t that feel good? So I stroked my cunt as he had me line up my face by his cock and while I didn’t want to come from such a disgusting, humiliating act, I had the thought, “If I’m going to have to do this, I might as well enjoy it.” I came. He only pissed in my mouth for a moment and then pissed all over me, all over my back. I could hear him chuckle gleefully as he did this. I was his dirty piss slut who came when he pissed in her mouth.
There wasn’t as strong a taste as I thought, but it was salty and then the terrible after taste – the taste took on the equivalent of the odor that old pee leaves someplace. Yuck. As soon as he was done and told me I could clean up, I turned on the faucet and wiped my tongue with dampened hands to get rid of the taste.
I showered, not quite waiting for the water to get warm enough. After the shower I was freezing and in serious need of aftercare. He cuddled me and I was feeling dazed. He actually did it. I actually let him, well, submitted to him. I actually came. Fuck.
He reminded me that he had promised a fuck after, and told me to set up my Hitachi. He fucked me from behind on my bed and thankfully we had brought my Fascinator throe along. The strong buzzing of the Hitachi against my clit paired with his big cock filling me up led to quite a series of orgasms when he gave me permission. Of course first he had me hold back. I whimpered and moaned as I was on the edge of coming and so very desperate to do so. When I came I squirted all over my hand and the throe. Not just once but a few times. I swear I must have ejected a gallon of liquid. I was totally spent after and could only collapse on the bed.
A friend asked me today if I was traumatized by the act, and I have to admit I’m not. MasterDoc and I packed up after the final fuck as it was getting late, and we walked to his place. I found myself feeling a bit physically ill – but could tell it was psychologically triggered. I asked him for more aftercare as such an intense scene left me needing much more than usual. I think an intense scene can put your body into a state of shock – that’s what it felt like to me. He held me tight on the couch and I let myself relax into his arms and feel soothed.
Strangely, I feel like this was an incredibly intimate and connecting event.
I went out to a party with MasterDoc and DeeDee Saturday night. I wasn’t entirely in the mood to go out, but I figured I could get myself in the mood. I put on some music as I got ready (Culture Club! I’m a total child of the 80′s.) and I perked up. The host of the party was the same guy who lent MasterDoc his paddle recently and his parties have always been good. We got there, to a space we’ve never been to, and my first impression was that the crowd was some how “dodgy” compared even to the usual swing club crowd. There seemed to be a whiff of desperation in the air much greater than usual. This could have been merely my perception, it’s hard to tell, but it set me up for feeling uncomfortable and unsafe. I told MasterDoc my impression, and DeeDee mostly agreed with the impression. But we wandered around and I stuck with them.
Taking a break on a bed, DeeDee was raring to go and while MasterDoc kissed me on one side, he reached back with a hand and played with DeeDee’s pussy. She came pretty fast and it’s impressive how quickly she gets worked up these days. I wasn’t comfortable enough yet so I was glad to snuggle a bit. I took my top off, to reveal the top half of the lacy, meshy slip I had borrowed from DeeDee to wear but I left my sarong on the bottom half. DeeDee is a few inches shorter than me, so a slip that’s short on her is practically non-existent on me. I could scarcely pull it down enough to go over my ass. Most women weren’t dressed too scantily, and this made me feel even more self-conscious. MasterDoc had me suck his cock while DeeDee cuddled with him, and I enjoyed making him twitch with my mouth. He had us change places a few moments later, and he and I kissed and cuddled while DeeDee made him twitch. The bed was uncomfortable – it was pretty much a leather (or pleather more likely) flat couch and it sunk in the section I sat on.
We got up and looked around some more, we ran into the party host and he showed us around. There were many “voyeur” or “peeping Tom” windows to the rooms, where viewers could pull back a curtain from the outside and watch what was going on in the room. This suited our sensibilities. But the lighting was exceptionally low for the most part. We got drinks and a nibble to eat, and MasterDoc sat us down in a well-lit and well-traveled area. A couple who had asked about our big For Your Nymphomation bag of toys, came over and MasterDoc gave them a tour of the inside of our toychest. I could tell MasterDoc was flirting with the woman, and she was rather cute. The guy didn’t thrill me and I didn’t really want to end up doing anything with him, but I knew that to help MasterDoc along I was going to be expected to.
As MasterDoc finished the toychest tour and went back to eating, I found myself sitting between him and DeeDee. They had me take off my sarong, so I was barely clad in the slip. (It’s black, lace underwire cups, mesh body and wide lace trim at the bottom.) I felt really self conscious for some reason last night. I still didn’t feel comfortable with the people there. And to be exposed in such a heavily traveled and well-lit area made me feel anxious. (MasterDoc later told me that he chose that place because it would be easy to keep control over what was happening. Too bad it didn’t feel like that to me.) He put my leg over his, so that my legs were partly spread. DeeDee did the same with my other leg. I felt anxious and so I requested the blindfold out of the bag. Some onlookers commented on how we had everything in that bag, but by blocking my sight I was able to block the onlookers out to an extent. MasterDoc toyed with me, and I had a hard time getting into it, but I tried my best. I was able to relax enough to enjoy his toying with my body, and he made me come hard in front of all those people. I squirted a couple of times on the vinyl bench and I worried that it would seep under my raised thigh and soak MasterDoc’s pants. He made me come for a long period of time and I came close several times to begging him to let me rest.
We cleaned up the bench with baby wipes after I was done. My ass was kept damp by the slip having gotten wet at the back. Luckily it was mesh so it wasn’t too uncomfortable to walk around in, in that respect. A guy who had been nearby watching with two women followed us over to the food table and he complimented me on the show. He was clearly interested, and he didn’t seem too bad – i.e., he didn’t trigger my sense of feeling unsafe. Maybe I was relaxing a bit. I needed to sit down, and MasterDoc found me a chair in the hallway. The couple from earlier came over and they were clearly interested in playing. The guy started getting close to me, and I could tell MasterDoc saw him stroking my shoulders and then gradually moving to my breasts. I wasn’t thrilled with the guy, but I was still just aroused enough that I could close my eyes and enjoy the feeling (forgetting who was doing it). MasterDoc joined in caressing me. The five of us went off to a room, the guy in the couple seemed quite uncomfortable with having an audience. MasterDoc explained how much we enjoy an audience. We closed the door to the room, so that only the guys peering through the perv window could see us.
DeeDee and MasterDoc talked about how not only is it his skills that gets him women, but also he has found very responsive women. He had DeeDee lay down and he brought her to orgasm quickly as a demonstration. The guy was turned on and asked if he could eat her out and he did so for a bit. DeeDee came again. The guy kept playing with her pussy and stroking her thighs and she had to beg for a break. (MasterDoc had to remind him a few times to stop touching her so she could rest.) He then reached to play with my pussy. I wasn’t interested or particularly comfortable, but I knew that MasterDoc wanted me to go along with things (although I felt unclear on the extent). My pussy wasn’t really wet enough but the toy bag with the lube was out of reach. The guy sat on the arm of the sofa next to me, and opened his jeans His lady sucked his cock and I felt a sense of relief to just watch, but he groped me as well and I sort of silently put up with it.
This is sad isn’t it? I was totally not into it and it was a little like when I was raped – I felt the activity was inevitable and so I quietly acquiesced and reminded myself it would soon be over. I tolerated it rather than enjoying it. Positions shifted and soon MasterDoc was playing with the lady’s pussy while she bent over and sucked her guy’s cock. The guy tried to go down on me but couldn’t get in a good position, so he played with my somewhat dry clit instead. I thought his skills were pretty dreadful. He beckoned DeeDee over and wanted her to suck his cock, she told him she doesn’t do that. He kept caressing her and I alternately and I worried that MasterDoc wasn’t watching. He was more than likely was keeping on top of his Domly duties and making sure I wasn’t being harmed, but I was feeling so unsafe that night that if he wasn’t looking in the direction of what was happening to my body, I felt like he wasn’t watching. (When we spoke later he assured me that he was in control of the situation.) While all this was going on, assholes kept opening the door to the room and not going away when we motioned for them to leave. It added to my sense of being unsettled and unsafe and I felt like the crowd was rude and pushy. I also got the sense that they were extremely straight and extremely vanilla. The guy in the couple, being uncomfortable with the crowd, ended up leaving with the lady after exchanging phone numbers with MasterDoc.
After they left, we closed the door again and MasterDoc attended to me. He went down on me, and I just kept feeling so unsafe in that environment that I couldn’t let go and enjoy myself. He tried placing pressure on my inner pelvis, but it just came across as uncomfortable. When it was clear I couldn’t relax, he came up and talked to me. I explained that I was fearful of being assaulted (and I know this wasn’t particularly rational, but I had images of aggressive guys forcing themselves on me while MasterDoc got pushed to the other end of the room by the sea of bodies). I was so clearly freaked out that MasterDoc decided we should go home.
I needed to use the bathroom before we left, and DeeDee went with me since she knew the door didn’t lock. She stood outside, looking formidable and Dommely with my riding crop. This helped a great deal. Ultimately, I felt uncomfortable enough (and somehow triggered enough) that anyone I didn’t know touching me was likely to freak me out. I had tried conveying my level of freaked outness to MasterDoc but I’m not sure I managed to do it adequately. He was keeping control of the situation from his perspective, but I felt very much like things were out of control – particularly out of my control. Some days I just can’t feel ok about “You will fuck whoever I tell you to.” When I’m in the right mindset it can be hot to be his whore and used by others at his discretion, however in the wrong mindset it feels like assault. I felt withdrawn and unhappy well into Sunday.
I’ve found that even when you initiate a break up with someone, it can still be terribly painful and sad. I was with Davey for 5.5 years – the longest relationship I’ve ever had. A few weeks ago I drew things to a close.
Part of me is bewildered at what I’ve done. I love him, I do, but romantically things had fizzled out for me. I never discussed it on here because I didn’t think it would be fair to Davey. As it is, he stopped reading my blog when it became too painful to read about the sex I was having with other people, but not him. I think it’s especially sad when you love someone and want them to be important in your life, but you decide you’d rather be friends than lovers.
Of course, all this is doubly painful for Davey because his feelings for me didn’t change.
He told me last night that he plans to move out. I now need to move or find a roommate. We were planning to go on a cruise together in September but I doubt that’s happening now. I want to remain close friends with him but only time will tell if we manage that.
I’ve come to realize, or at least believe for now, that for me emotionally I’m fairly monogamous (but non-monogamous physically and affectionately). I can care about, have affection for, lust after multiple people. But when I fell in love with MasterDoc it became harder for me to stay romantically involved with Davey. I see this as my own shortcoming, and if there’s any blame to be placed for this breakup it’s with me, definitely. I pulled away from him. I lost interest in sex. And the whole time I felt horrible guilt over this. Davey is a wonderful guy. Truly. He is one of the best. He has always treated me really well and we’ve had so much fun together. I’m hoping we can maintain a friendship because I love spending time with him. We both love travel and dining out and these are things I don’t get to do with MasterDoc often. Davey and I like a lot of the same music.
It took me a long time to work out if this was the right decision, because in so many ways being with Davey is wonderful. But I ultimately felt that if I wasn’t going to have sex with him or I didn’t feel romantic towards him then it was unfair to hang on just for my benefit. Luckily, he has other girlfriends he sees regularly, so I hope that being poly will help soften the blow for him. I can understand this being hard for him, however, as for many years I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with him. But things change sometimes.
This is going to be a long entry. Not only did I have hot, kinky sex I want to share with you, I also had some realizations that I’m excited about too. (Ultimately, I’ve decided to make my brains’ masturbation one entry, and the actual sex another.)
I had a wonderful time yesterday – and had some revelations on what polyamory is to me. MasterDoc is poly in the sense that he likes having multiple romantic relationships concurrently. I’m poly in the sense that I prefer having one main emotional, romantic relationship and lots of friends I hang out with and fuck. Neither way is wrong, they’re just two of the many ways a person can be polyamorous. I would certainly feel affection for and care about my fuck buddies, but it would be without the intensity of a full-time relationship. I need a way to get my insane sexual needs/desires met, but I’m not really looking for another relationship. I’ve been going about things all wrong. I’ve been looking on okcupid for a woman to date. I should be looking on craigslist for a woman to FUCK.
I think I hesitate to admit that sort of thing, because then I come across as a stereotypical bisexual woman. But fuck that, I may be a bit of a stereotype at times, but I should go for what I want. (And like most stereotypes, I’m not 100% of the stereotype anyway. I can fall in love with and have a relationship with a woman, but I’d much prefer a female friend who loves to fuck and hang out with me.) I worry that I make other bi women look bad by fitting the stereotype – but there are plenty of bisexual women who can have romantic, emotional relationships with women (monogamous ones even!) but I’m not one who wants that.
Kinda hard to admit what you want is what has been vilified. It’s really hard to know that the lesbians who won’t date bisexual women will look at me and say, “See! She’s why I won’t date bi women!” I am not, however, all bisexual women. I am just me.
Yesterday we had over a woman MasterDoc found on craigslist. Just reading her ad made me think she’s a kindred spirit – and meeting her cemented that. I found myself feeling so excited to meet her, but I didn’t want to show it because while here she told us about a woman who got too clingy and she had to stop seeing because that’s not what she wants. The thing is, I’m so excited about meeting her BECAUSE she doesn’t want a relationship with a woman. To have a partner in crime who is bisexual, horny, kinky and adventurous would be fabulous. She’s smart, has an offbeat sense of humor – definitely the kind of person I want to be friends with. I’m hoping she’d be up for the same, but I realize that I have to be laid back about it lest I come across as wanting more than I actually do. But I would just like to be able to call on her and say, “Hey I have a night alone, want to come over, hang out and fuck?” And if she’s free that night (she does have boyfriend, and I think that should come first just like my relationship with MasterDoc comes first for me) then she can come over, chill out and get freaky.
It was so exciting to have that epiphany. I hold back from dating others for many reasons despite feeling frustrated and like I need more sex and more companionship, and I’ve realized that one of them is that I don’t want another emotionally intense, romantic relationship. I want a fuck buddy, a friend with benefits. Time to re-evaluate my dating strategy.
My other grand epiphany has been developing over the past week or so. We’re all so mired in the “stories” that society tells us, that even progressive feminists can fall prey to the narratives we’re told – despite them not being true. I’m often intimidated by thin women. (And I started feeling that way with our guest – she’s quite slender.) I think that thinness is so beloved in our culture that why would someone who has that want me? But that’s bullshit. I like a lot of different people – and someone being smart, funny and sexually adventurous is FAR MORE important to me than them fitting a societal body ideal. And why the fuck can’t I accept that there are thin women who feel the same way? I have such terrible self-esteem most of the time, that it had never occurred to me before – I am one of those smart, kinky, adventurous, fun people I think are so fucking sexy. Why the hell wouldn’t other people find me sexy? Sure, no one is ever going to be attractive to everyone, but I don’t give myself enough credit for my good points.
At one point I was chatting with our new pal (I’m hoping she’ll come back, she was loads of fun) while MasterDoc played with DeeDee in the next room. And I told her about the realization I had recently through a thread on fetlife and talking to someone on twitter – misogyny and the hatred of women’s bodies is so widespread that thin women deal with tons of shit about their bodies too. In the feminist movement these days we focus a lot on fat positivity, but we often do it in a way that reacts negatively to our sisters who more closely fit the “perfect” body. I forget, however, that the “perfect” body is so fucking specific that even someone who seems to fit it more closely than me can suffer from worries that they’re not the “perfect” one. Sure thinness is desired, but so are big boobs – and plenty of thin women have smaller breasts. We want this “perfect” combination of ultra thin yet curvy – and that’s not a look most people’s bodies fall into naturally. Also, I lose sight of the fact that even if someone does fit this norm, it doesn’t mean they buy into it, it doesn’t mean they can’t like me. Sure, some people are body conscious and only want to fuck other “hot” people, but I can’t assume because a woman is hot that she won’t find me to be very sexy or she can’t struggle with her own sense of body-positivity. (I need to realize this about men too.)
I’ve been so fucked up by the pervasive culture we live in that I have lost sight of these things. And when I told our new pal this yesterday she enthusiastically agreed with me that thin women get all sorts of shit about their bodies too. Misogyny is an attack on women, and part of the attack strategy is to make chubby women think that thin women are the enemy. I’ve often rejected a thin, pretty woman before she had a chance to reject me – and stupidly have ruined chances with women I might have had a great time with. I have no concept of a hot woman wanting to fuck me, but Jesus, aren’t I selling myself short? I’m buying into the societal narrative too much myself.
We had such a wonderful adventure with our new friend yesterday (I keep hoping friend is the right word – it could turn out to be a one-off but I’m hoping it’s not) that it merits its own entry. Coming up next: the hot sex foursome.
Even the best relationships have rough patches and misunderstandings. Unfortunately Monday night led to me misunderstanding and getting really upset. Consequently, I spent most of Tuesday upset.
I spent the Monday holiday with MasterDoc, and after we went out to lunch he gave me a sybian ride. I squirted like a sprinkler all over the machine and the floor. Leading up to this, I had laid out nipple clamps, the Hitachi magic wand and my Gigi in the bedroom and gotten started without him. (Hey, I was horny!) He put the clamps on my nipples and led me into the living room where he had set up the sybian. He also grabbed the riding crop to swat my ass while he gave me the ride.
It is delicious how he teases me by varying the speed of the vibration. He tugged on the nipple clamps (one of which didn’t want to stay put) and spanked me with the crop. As I said before, when I came I squirted. I had to clean up the machine and the carpet afterward.
DeeDee was due home that evening, and he made it clear that I would not be the focus of our play that night, and I understood that. DeeDee hadn’t seen him since Friday morning. The three of us hung out watching t.v. for a bit after dinner, and I stumbled upon a Lady Gaga fest on Fuse. When MasterDoc decided it was time to head to the bedroom, I semi-seriously said, “But Gaga is on!” He said that’s fine, I can watch it. Seeing my chance at sex as slipping away, I said, “But this could go on for hours! I don’t have to watch it.” He pointed out that I should enjoy myself and watch for the next half hour or so, until whatever segment was over.
I was a bit inebriated that evening, and I started to wonder if he wanted time alone with DeeDee. In theory there’s nothing wrong with this, but since a threesome had been implied, I felt left out being left in the living room watching Gaga videos (amid many commercials). I somehow in my muddled mind started to think that I was being left out for the whole evening. I debated back and forth – would he really do that? Well as a good sub I should respect that and do my best to enjoy my evening in the living room. But I felt really left out and sad. I felt rejected. I felt like I was being punished for something.
I went to the bathroom at one point and he came to check on me. During our brief conversation I got the impression that he did want me to stay in the living room. But he also said something about coming in. I peeked in the bedroom after I left the loo and they were intensely close and I worried that I’d be barging in. I thought I had misinterpreted him. I went back to the living room.
I lay sadly on the sofa, watching t.v. and clutching the stuffed dog one of his other girlfriends had given him (who I’ve taken a liking to and named Brian after the dog on Family Guy). MasterDoc and DeeDee came out at one point and said they were going to set up the air conditioner in DeeDee’s room. Ok. It’s a good thing because the evening was hot, but I thought to myself (incorrectly), “Well that’s the end of that. No sex for me.”
After the a/c was in, MasterDoc sat on the sofa next to me and reached over to part my legs. He started playing with my cunt and I was confused – was he doing this because I seemed upset at the lack of attention? Was I taking attention away from DeeDee and being a selfish little bitch in a way? Should I enjoy what he was doing and orgasm? The night wasn’t supposed to be about me. I felt guilty for feeling so upset over being left out. He managed to wrench a hard orgasm out of me despite my terrible mindset. I was feeling bewildered.
Now, reading this you know that I had misunderstood. But at the time I didn’t know this, and I was really ruminating over it all. MasterDoc decided to have me join them, and I thought, “Oh hey, maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’ll be included now.” But then I went back to my original theory when it turned out I was invited in to teach DeeDee the touching technique I’ve learned that turns MasterDoc on. And so my inebriated brain thought, “Great, I’m just coming in to improve their sex life.”
I struggled all night to be a “good” submissive and accept things as they came. For a while I did get into touching MasterDoc and I was able to stop feeling depressed and truly enjoy myself. (It is amazing being able to make your Dom twitch from your touch.) I taught DeeDee some of the technique and MasterDoc was a very happy man having us both massage his inner thighs.
DeeDee headed off again (the reason why escapes me) and MasterDoc asked if I wanted to get fucked. I went for it since it had been nearly a week since I had his cock in me, but with all my neuroses hard at work I wasn’t sure I’d enjoy it. He could see I was distressed in some way, checked in with me, and I was worried that he’d go off to DeeDee’s room right after fucking me, leaving me alone without aftercare. He made it clear that I was supposed to enjoy myself and that I would get cuddles after. So I did let go and come hard when he fucked me, but my brain still was chugging along the wrong track.
He slept with DeeDee that night, which I knew about ahead of time. As I lay in bed trying to sleep (I had work in the morning) I could hear DeeDee coming even through the earplugs I wear to bed. This just fueled my distressed mind. I had a hard time falling asleep and was completely miserable.
I spent the next morning filled with angst. I laid into MasterDoc when I ran into him online during the day. Poor guy didn’t know what I was going on about. By this time my insecurity had been thoroughly tapped into and pain and sadness flowed from me. It was a hellish day at work.
But when I got back to MasterDoc’s that evening, he and I talked. I broke down and got a little hysterical after explaining to him that part of expressing myself to me is letting the emotions show (he always tries to get me to talk calmly, without raising my voice). He’s far more rational and thick-skinned than me, so my reactions put him off. I’m very emotional. I’ve worked for years on becoming more rational, and I’ve improved, but sometimes my emotions take over. I expressed how truly painful the incident on Sunday with my toys on the floor had been for me – I know it’s something he wouldn’t have a second thought about. He’s not bothered by things like that. But for me it triggers something deep.
I cried. I was angry. I was sad. I was unfortunately bitchy. I jabbed with words, which I’m unfortunately good at. The feeling that I really need more sex and need to see more people overwhelmed me. I’m not sure that was really the deep-seated issue at hand, but it’s something that came out. He is open to me playing with others, etc. Now I need to get off my ass and meet other potential partners. After the discussion was over, I was left feeling terrible because I had truly made him hurt. He’s not hyper-expressive like I am, but I could see in his eyes that I really hurt him.
I’ve been feeling bad about it since, although I know that you can’t take back words, but you can try to be different going forward. I’m going to focus more on complimenting him and less on criticizing. Really, in so many ways I’m over the moon with him. He really can make me happy. I should de-emphasize the negative and as Louis Armstrong sang, “Acc-cent-choo-ate the positive.” I plan to be with him for a very long time.
When I get an occasional email on Facebook saying what a lucky man MasterDoc is to have me, I think about these times when I’m overemotional, or depressed, and I think that I’m very much the lucky one.
I wrote the first draft of this on Saturday morning, when I was heavily in the midst of a post-traumatic stress disorder crisis. Sorry to say you don’t get any hot stories from the weekend as there pretty much weren’t any. This post is a bit meandering as it’s more about expressing my feelings than writing a well-written blog post.
Mental illness is something that you can’t just wish away. I’m as able to wish away bouts of post traumatic stress as much as I’m able to wish away a bout of diarrhea from ingesting dairy without lactaid. It’s frustrating. My rational brain can grasp the fact that I’m not in danger like I was during the trauma that gave me PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder). It can grasp the fact that MasterDoc takes care of me now, and the same scenario wouldn’t happen again as he would never let it. But the primal brain, the part that was traumatized, can’t be reasoned with and so I go into a bout of panic, anxiety and helplessness as if I’m re-living the the trauma all over again. And again. And again.
Various things can trigger a bout of PTSD and it’s not always (or even often) possible to determine ahead of time what might set me off. I read stories about sexual violence regularly in feminist blogs; I think it’s vital to discuss it and that silence will only perpetuate the problem. But sometimes something hits me just the wrong way, or just on the wrong day, and I find myself struggling with the same feelings I had right after the assault.
What set me off this time was a combination of things: reading comments on a post about outing sexual predators was the big thing. People were telling the survivors that they should always go to the police and that if they didn’t report the incident then they were somehow responsible for the sexual predator attacking the next person (and yet they shouldn’t publicly name and shame the person). This of course is utter bullshit as the only person responsible for the inappropriate behavior of the attacker is the attacker. But it struck me deeply as I agonized for a long time over pursuing legal repercussions after I was sexually assaulted 5 years ago. I worried about the women who could be affected in future by this asshole who was incapable of empathy or taking responsibility for his actions. I ultimately decided not to file a report because in talking to the NYPD I found out that unless they were sure they could convict they wouldn’t even prosecute. At the time people who were there that night were making all sorts of excuses for the guy who traumatized me. (He hosted fun sex parties, no one wanted to be uninvited. From what I hear he still hosts parties. Yes, New York sluts, you may in fact attend the parties of someone who committed sexual assault without remorse.) I felt like I would be completely alone in my accusations, and considering I was barely keeping my head together at that point I knew that pursuing legal action would only serve to damage me more. I also worried about harassment from his friends if I spoke up. (I did receive a little harassment just from speaking up within the circle.) Now, it’s past the statute of limitations (I can’t tell you the agony I went through that year the statute was going to be up. Do I report? Do I not?) but in the past two years a few people have come forward from that night to tell me that, indeed, what that guy did was wrong and they have felt terrible about what I went through. It’s comforting, but I wish they could have spoken up when I could have gone to the police.
As for the guy who did it, well he’s still a part of the sex blogger community. He’s on twitter. He’s on Fetlife. Part of my trigger was thinking about how many of my blogger friends believe his facade of “nice guy” and don’t realize what he did to me. I feel like the world should know, but in this society we protect the perpetrators of sex crimes. Had he hit me, or mugged me, I wouldn’t hesitate to name him. But since it was sexual and I know that being at a sex party when it happened would be enough for the slut shaming to begin, I don’t feel safe hollering his name from the rooftops. Oh privately I have told many, but publicly I’ve been mostly circumspect. I’m sure if anyone questioned him about the incident, he would deftly turn things around and make me look like the bad one. (Just as he did after the assault. Nice guy, huh?)
I’ve heard from someone else that they heard the story of that incident from him and his telling is completely different. In his mind, I was a woman who decided to try to “destroy him online.” I find this rich considering I didn’t name who did it or hint at who did it in the aftermath (for at least 2 years). I merely blogged about the hell I was going through and from this dickhead I got things like emails telling me to stop using him as “blog fodder.” Most readers of the blog I had at that time didn’t know who had done it, so I don’t see how he was persecuted by my trying to process my feelings. (He sure didn’t like the comments people left about what an asshole he was. But these people didn’t know he, specifically, was the asshole.) He refused to take any sort of responsibility for his behavior, and one or two people close to him made excuses (“He was drunk.”) or one even went so far as to call me crazy. I’m not crazy. And this man who did this to me is clearly incapable of empathy. I’m not the only person to observe him and come to the conclusion that he likely has some sort of personality disorder. So while a part of me wants to hear an apology (5 years later and one still hasn’t appeared) I don’t really expect to ever get one, because he is so focused on how this incident affected him. (Isn’t that simply amazing? He traumatized and assaulted me and he feels that he’s the wronged party.) I’ve seen him concoct huge, involved, false stories about people I know because he imagines that they are persecuting him in some way. I’ve heard about others who have spoken out about him who have been incessantly harassed by his minions. Intellectually I know this man will never feel remorse for what he did to me. And this is supremely frustrating because his actions can still affect me deeply 5 years later. When will it stop? I don’t know that the flashbacks will ever stop. I don’t know that the self-blaming will ever stop. I don’t know that my fears of him hurting other women will ever stop. A few years back a woman I was dating turned out to go to his parties. I felt panicked for her because I was afraid if he knew I knew her then he’d do something to her too. That incident was a total trigger for me. I went home and cried.
I’ve spent the past three and a half days trying to distract myself from the feeling of being re-traumatized. But it’s not something that can be simply ignored. I keep going through endless cycles of panic coming on, followed by extreme frustration that I could be happy and having hot sex right about now, but instead I’m feeling violated and fearful. When I’m triggered, I live the trauma all over again. Over the weekend I was psychically in the space where I was during/after the assault: scared, helpless, panicked, angry. I find myself questioning if going to a sex party makes it somehow okay for someone to put a speculum inside you without having negotiated it (or ANY play) with you beforehand. I find myself angry that I didn’t stop him before he put it in my cunt and jabbed me with it. (I had a tender spot inside my vagina for about a year after the event.) But at the time I firmly believed that if I said stop he would stop. He didn’t. And you can’t just jump up and run out of a room with an open speculum inside you. I had to rely on this asshole taking it out of me. With enough panic coursing through me I decided to end things there and then by drawing all attention to what was going on. And while I’m proud of the strength it took for me to do that, I was already traumatized at that point.
It’s been a long trip back from there to where I am now (on most days). It’s taken a long time for me to trust my dark fantasies to MasterDoc. I often fear that someone will use these fantasies against me, like how after the assault someone commented on my blog and cited my talking about using a speculum to see my cervix as an indication that I consented to this guy, who I had never played with before, to use one with me sexually. (Keep in mind any discussion of speculums on my blog were related to viewing my cervix and not at all sexual fantasy-related.) I find myself often afraid to admit to things especially without putting in the caveat that I want to do them “with MasterDoc.” He’s the only person I feel safe enough with to indulge the dark, kinky fantasies I’ve always had.
Simply talking about something does not equal consenting to doing it.
I’d name this asshole right here, right now and link to his blog, only I fear the harassment that would ensue. I’ve dealt with enough hell from this person. Right now about the only thing I can do is hope he dies a slow, painful death. And I hope that I can move past this anger that plunges me into depression whenever I’m triggered.
I write this for me. I write this because I feel better having gotten it out. Douchebag, this ultimately has nothing to do with you. If I wanted to persecute you I’d be going about it in an entirely different way.
This Lady Gaga song inspired me to write a bit of erotica for a change. The video has nothing to do with my fantasy, but I love it all the same for being totally campy and sexy at the same time.
This is some pretty kinky shit, but if you read here regularly you should realize the kinds of things that are talked about on this blog. And without further ado: “Show Me Your Teeth.”
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She had dared him to go further than before. The butterflies tickled her stomach as she wondered if she could handle what he was going to dish out.
She had shared some of her darkest fantasies with him – the ones where she’s tied up helpless, the ravishment fantasies, the ones where he does things to her she likes to think she doesn’t want. But at the same time becoming his slut entirely turns her on immensely and she hopes that her gentle teasing has gotten him worked up enough to really push her limits this time.
She had spent some time reassuring him that she was ready for this. She wanted him to reach down and find those dark places of his soul and utilize them so they could both fulfill the twisted fantasies that brought them together.
He put her collar around her neck, and while he usually wasn’t big on protocol, he ordered her to kneel before him, forehead touching the floor. She did as she was told and steeled herself for what she hoped would be a bumpy ride.
He placed his foot on her head, holding it down.
“Are you sure you’re ready slut?” he asked her.
“Yes, Sir,” she replied immediately. She could feel her cunt begin to get wet. He removed his foot from her head and had her sit up. He sat on the sofa across from her spot on the floor and looked into her eyes.
“You are going to do everything I tell you tonight without question. I am going to take you to a place of humiliation and submission that you’ve never been to before.” She took a deep breath at this. “Go get the behind the back restraints.”
She was thrilled he asked for those – she had always hoped they’d use them again. Just having them on made her hot. When she returned to the room with the restraints, he stood up and put them on her. He buckled the collar, then buckled each wrist into their respective cuffs. She straightened up, and in this position her full breasts stood out. He took a hunk of her hair in his hand and shook her head around a little. She closed her eyes in a bit of a swoon. While her eyes were closed, he raised his hand and slapped her across the face a few times, each time a little harder than the first. When she opened her eyes he looked at her intently.
“I’ll be back in a moment. I expect you to stand at attention for me right here, understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
She could feel every inch of her skin thrum as she heard him go off into the bedroom where the toys were kept. She tried to figure out what he was getting by the noises, but she couldn’t be certain. There was a chain noise and otherwise the noises were indistinguishable.
He came up behind her and placed a blindfold over her eyes. Now she was helpless and unable to see. He started to pull something else over her face, and she soon realized it was the muzzle. Her helplessness increased with not being able to communicate easily. He tweaked a nipple and she practically gushed wetness knowing that she was at his mercy. A chain rattled. She tried to discern if it was a leash or not. As he started pulling at her nipples, making them stand out, she realized that the chain must be one that connects two nipple clamps. The question was, which ones?
He slowly released the clamp onto one nipple. As it continued to bite and bite she knew it must be the clover clamps. She took deep breaths through her nose to cope with the pain. Clover clamps weren’t something she’d grown accustomed to just yet.
“Take the pain for me slut,” he said as he tugged lightly on the clamp to make sure it was on securely. She whimpered and he stroked the side of her face. “Breathe deeply. That’s it.”
He went for the other nipple and soon the other clamp was biting into her flesh. On the one hand, she wondered if she could stand the pain, on the other, her cunt felt like it was on fire. He pulled a little on the chain and she whimpered loudly. She moved her hands instinctively but of course found them to be secured behind her back, where they couldn’t do her any good.
He helped her balance as she was lowered onto her knees on the floor. Her senses were flooded with the pain, and the feel of his hand on her shoulders, and the anticipation of what might come next. He removed the muzzle. “You’re not to speak unless spoken too, understand cunt?”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied.
She heard him unzip his pants and he took his semi-hard cock out and slapped her on the face a few times. “You’re my cock-sucking whore,” he said, “You’re my piss-drinking whore. You’re my ass-licking whore. Open your mouth.” He put his cock in and she hoped that he was too hard to piss in her mouth. Anyway, he wasn’t likely to do it in the living room where there would be a mess if she failed to catch every drop.
She sucked, having a hard time keeping his ever-hardening cock in her mouth without the use of her hands. He grabbed the back of her head, and pulled her face right into his crotch. She tried to breathe through her nose while he gagged her on his cock, but soon she was sputtering and dripping drool down her chest. “Again, whore,” he said as he pushed his cock into her mouth and straight to the back of her throat again. He fucked her mouth hard and drool ran down her chin. Snot started to flow out of her nose and she was sure her makeup would be moist and messed up under the blindfold. He choked her repeatedly on his large cock, and then pulled her head back by the hair and slapped her face a few times. She could feel her sense of will melting as she became nothing more than his whore. She wanted him to hurt her. She wanted him to use her.
He reached down and slowly removed the clover clamps. She cried out as they came off and the blood painfully rushed back into each nipple. He slapped her for making noise and put the muzzle back over her mouth. “Get up,” he said and he helped her to her feet as she couldn’t hold her balance with her arms behind her. He undid the restraints and she rolled her shoulders to ease the soreness in them. She could hear and feel a leash hook onto her collar and he led her, still blindfolded, into the bedroom. He had her kneel on the bed, head down, ass in the air. Without warm up, he caned her a few swift times. She cried out under her muzzle.
Next this cold and slick fingers were pushing into her ass, lubing her up. She could feel the cold steel butt plug as he stroked it teasingly around her asshole. He pushed, and it slid in, filling her up. With his other hand, he checked between her pussy lips. “You’re a wet little slut, aren’t you?” She could hear the wet noises as he slapped her pussy. He slid a finger inside and wiggled it around just a little bit. She moaned and pushed back onto his hand.
He laughed.
“Not yet slut.”
He removed the muzzle and the blindfold, and slid his finger, slick with her juices, into her mouth. She obediently sucked his finger clean. As he pulled away momentarily, her eyes blinked, adjusting to the light in the room. She could still feel the heavy steel plug in her ass. He told her to lay down on her stomach and rest for a moment. He gathered up more toys.
He lay down next to her on the bed and she pulled herself close to his chest. She wanted him so badly that she started to lick his chest and massage it with her fingers. He let her do this for a moment, and lay back to enjoy her attentions.
His cock was hard again when he had her stop and lay on her stomach. She felt the cold swipe of an alcohol wipe on each ass cheek. This could only mean one thing – needles. Her ass chilled as the alcohol evaporated from her skin. She listened to him unwrap a couple of needles. He grabbed one ass cheek and slid a needle into her flesh, the needle exiting out a short distance later. She took a deep breath and her body soon flooded with endorphins. He stuck her again, on the other side this time, and again she was flying high on her body’s own natural drug. She was blissfully in subspace. Her will had dropped completely, and she only wanted to do whatever he wanted her to do. He let her lie there and enjoy the rush for a few minutes. He knew, however, that this was the ideal time to really push her limits.
After removing each needle, he asked her if she was able to stand. “I think so, Sir,” she replied and unsteadily sat up on the bed. He looked into her eyes, leaned forward, and kissed her deeply.
“You’re a good girl. Now let’s see if you’re as obedient as I expect you to be tonight.”
He led her into the bathroom, and she knew this meant piss play. She always had such mixed feelings about piss play. On the one hand it was degrading and gross. On the other hand, she relished him putting her into that mental space. It wasn’t that she thought she was worthless, it was just that him making her feel dirty and under his control gave her such a high.
He had her kneel in the cold tub. Would he just pee on her, or would this be the time he finally followed through with his threat and peed in her mouth? He removed her collar, “just for practicality’s sake.” She knew that even without that symbol around her neck she was expected to obey.
“Are you my obedient slut?”
“Yes, Sir. I’m your obedient slut.”
He made sure to look into her eyes as he spoke. “I expect you to prove that now to me. This next part can be as easy or difficult as you make it. I expect you to try your hardest to please me.”
She could feel herself shake a little. This was it. This was when he followed through on the months of threats. God, would she be able to stand the taste of piss in her mouth? Would it totally freak her out? Thankfully the endorphins from earlier were still flowing and she felt a rush when faced with the challenge of doing that which she found totally repulsive. He stepped as close to the tub as he could, and took his mostly soft cock into his hand. He took hold of her hair with the other hand. “Open your mouth.”
She did as she was told, with only a slight hesitation. She closed her eyes tight, but he wasn’t having that. “Look at me, bitch!” She opened up her eyes and looked up at him, standing over her like some sort of powerful god. He wanted to see her eyes as he did this. He wanted to watch the struggle as it unfolded in her head and showed in her eyes.
With her mouth wide open, and eyes wide open as well, she felt the first hot drops of piss land on her tongue. A panic came over her, but she steadied herself and let it flow into her mouth. He relished the look in her eyes. It was a look of panic and disgust, but she held herself still as he pissed into her mouth. He felt powerful knowing that he could make her do this.
“Swallow as much as you can, cunt.”
She gagged as she swallowed but she kept coming back for more because more than anything else she wanted to please him. She wanted to show her devotion by letting him use her however he wanted. When she’d gag and cough a little he ended up pissing on her face and into her hair. A few tears escaped the corners of her eyes. He took hold of her hair more tightly and continued to let go a long stream of piss into her mouth.
“Hold it in your mouth a moment. Show me.”
She knew he meant the piss and, struggling against all sorts of forces within her, she held a pool of it in her mouth, revolted by the taste. He looked into her eyes.
“Now swallow cunt.” She did and collapsed in the tub, crying. To an outsider, she seemed broken and devastated. But she felt a certain freedom in having let go of her inhibitions so. He let her collapse, but he continued pissing onto her body. “You’re my filthy, piss-drinking slut. One of these days I’ll do this with a whole crowd of men to watch. Then I’ll have them piss all over you as well. You’ll reek of piss and they will be amazed at how much you’re my whore.” He finished pissing on her.
“Clean up,” he said as he left the room. She slowly gathered her wits. She felt emptied out inside, like all her worries no longer had a space within her. Somehow she felt baptized, new. She adjusted the water in the tub and began rinsing herself off. She took handfuls of water into her mouth and rinsed it out as best she could. She had to wash her hair as he had pissed there as well.
She dried off. She put her collar back on and went to find Sir. Her damp hair hung limply and clung to her face. She had forgotten temporarily about the plug in her ass.
She found him in the living room and she asked his permission to use the toilet. He didn’t grant it right away but made her sit on the floor at his feet. The fullness of her bladder added to her arousal in some strange way. Still, she was becoming desperate to use the bathroom.
He lifted her chin and she had a hard time looking at him. “You’re a good girl,” he said. She let out a deep breath and focused her eyes on him. “You can go use the bathroom now.”
She paused for a moment, wanting to ask if she could remove the plug from her ass, but then she remembered that she wasn’t to speak unless spoken to. Thankfully, he noticed the conflicted look on her face and he asked her what she was thinking.
“May I please remove the plug from my ass, Sir?”
He laughed a little. “I had forgotten it was in there. Yes, you may remove it. Now go use the bathroom and meet me in the bedroom after.”
He handed her the ball gag when she arrived. She put it on and he had her get on hands and knees on the bed again. He stroked his hard cock and put a condom on it.
He pulled her ass apart and could see the slick, shaved lips of her cunt. She was remarkably wet. He slid his cock into her and fucked her slowly. Her muffled moans turned him on more, and he felt a sense of ownership over her. She moaned and pushed her hips back to sink his cock as deeply as she could. His cock stayed completely rigid as he fucked her. Her moans became louder through the gag. She could come at any second, he only had to give the word. But he was enjoying teasing her and he pounded her cunt a little with his cock, listening to the desperation grow in her moans.
Finally, he thrust his cock as deep inside her as he could and told her to come. His entire body trembled and he could feel her cunt convulse around his cock. She made a remarkable amount of noise for someone who was gagged. As she came, he felt his own arousal peak and shot forth a wad of hot come. He groaned and twitched as her pussy continued milking his cock as she came. He felt his balls suddenly drenched as she squirted. He smiled.
As they both lay limp on the bed after, he put his mouth to hear ear and said, “I’m very proud of you cunt.” She glowed from within from his compliment.
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