FFF: Challenge

FFF - Who's watching? _follow to see who else is writing

Word Length = 200
Required Phrase = Obligation
Forbidden Words = Payment, Prediliction, Prostitution
Extra Credit = Make it personal
Bonus Words = 25 extra for explaining the tuxedos, 25 more if this isn't about the money

She had an obligation. She was to belong to the men in the room, to be whatever they wished for her to be. That was what her lover demanded, and his will was her pleasure, proof of devotion and love.

"Caress the tips of your breasts," was the first request, and she did until they stiffed and rose, gazing down instead of the men. One man was silent the entire time, almost detached from her actions, the other issuing the commands.

When he commanded she strip of her panties and ride him, she felt a pleasure in following through. She was good at being on top, knew when to tease and when to grind.

He grabbed her hips, and she was swiftly reassured in his moans, his body beginning to perspire, his hands clenching her more, and his hips thrusting. She arched back and her own scream of pleasure erupted.

She looked at the other man in the room, his body calm and composed. Did he even watch them, she wondered. She felt drawn to him, compelled to make him want her, to wrest the same pleasure from him, to make her lover proud. She felt herself growing excited with the challenge.

Being on the ropes

Awhile ago, for Sinful Sunday I posted this picture of my clit. It garnered a lot of curiosity about the experience. So, without further ado: Once upon a time...

God I'm wet. He walks in the door, gives me his intense stare, and I can't help but run into his arms. I truly think that for the first time in my life someone owns me. I would never think to hesitate with him. The desire between us burns brighter than a forest fire. The things this man does to my mind are just as wickedly delightful as the things he does to my body.

I'm naked while he is still in his riding gear, the leather of his jacket rubbing against my nipples as I rub myself against him like a cat, leaving my scent, gaining his. He pushes me to my room and opens the drawer that contains one of my favorite things... The rope.

"You need this don't you?"

He knows I do, I've been climbing the walls lately. I need more than just release. I need intensity, I need to find that space in my head where quiet and calm and serenity are found. I hope he leaves bruises.

It's almost a surreal process, getting tied up. I stand next to the bed, proud in my nudity as he wraps yard after yard around my body. The intricate design that he weaves starts at the top. He completely wraps my hair in rope. As he is done he lets the rope fall straight down and it nestles in the center of my ass. This is pure sensuality. As he starts blinding the rest of my body he makes sure to caress a sensitive area, pause for a moment and look into my eyes, his so full of promise. Suddenly he quickly pulls the length of rope through a loop. The rope running, pressed against my skin is painful and startling. He pauses to lick the rosy area created and my nerves go haywire. As the full bindings are coming together on my body diamond patterns begin to emerge. Every part is connected. He spreads my thighs and runs the rope from my torso up through my lovely center back through to my ass. The two ends of the rope that he works with part my labia. He pauses in his kneeling position and I feel the flick of his tongue against clit and my knees are no longer steady. 

The rope firmly bound, he helps me onto the bed as my upper body is immobilized now. I cannot even bend at the waist, it chokes me. My head is held back on my neck as the rope that he bound my hair with is weaved right through the center of the design. My body is held taunt as my hair is then tied to my ankles with my legs bent. To relax a muscle is to pull my own hair.

All I can see is the ceiling from my twisted position, the slow fan blades making lazy shadows that cross the room. I'm already finding it, the center, the place of being. My mind is slowly focusing. I can't see what is going on, I'm effectively blinded by the blank white view above me. I feel his fingers skim my inner thigh. I know that he is doing something with the rope between my thighs but I've no idea what.

A soft whisper against my very inner thigh "You're such a good girl" he practically breaths. Shivers run down my spin and my body's natural reaction suddenly provokes a startling effect. The minute movement of my body caused the rope to tighten. I instantly discover through feeling what he has done. My clit is squeezed between the ropes.

The rope is arranged in such a position that it pulls back my hood, and my exposed clit is rubbed by its twisted texture. The effects of my response cause me to move more and the sensations escalates so quickly it steals my breath. My mind has literally stopped in its processing. I've never felt anything even remotely similar to this. I never knew skin, nerves, my sex, could become so sensitive. 

I can feel his gaze, his fascination. "Would you like to see it?"

I can talk... I have a voice. Words... I know words, I need one. Oh, God I just took a deep breath, the ropes are taunt again. Oh God. What? Oh, yes, yes.

"Yes"

He grabs my camera and takes a picture. He comes around to my head and I see him for the first time in what feels like ages but feels like nothing. Time has no meaning. All I can do is stare at the picture in front of my eyes. I can't, I don't, I just, I don't know what I'm seeing. The world is a haze and all I can feel is my muscles, slightly uncomfortable, the pull of the rope against my skin everywhere... My clit.

There is no way I am going to be able to comprehend the picture in front of me, but something else has caught my eye. My lover is naked, his throbbing excitement at seeing me at his mercy and his pleasure is deliciously evident right in front of my face. He knows me, knows what I will do. I try to shift to get him in my mouth and my hair is yanked firmly by my ankles and the strongest sensations yet are jolted through my trapped and swollen clit.

Mercy granted, he moves to my head which is slightly off the bed so I can have him. I'm lying on my back and he admires the way he can see the shape of him in my throat as he pushes farther in my mouth. The thrust of his hips is driving me crazy and I don't want to be teased, I want all of him, I want to swallow him, consume him. He runs his hands over my body. He can always tell when I'm finding zen, when I start to no longer notice the pain, the ache. He always distracts me from that, so suddenly those sensations come back, more intense now. 

It is this process that allows him to get me so deep into subspace. I didn't give him ownership of me, he took it through his mastery. I have to be the luckiest girl in the world. Not that I can think of that at this point, my attention is captured by my neck is a mild, annoying cramp. I move.

Oh yes, that's right, there's rope currently caging the most sensitive part of my body in a strong grip. He notices my attention being sharply focused suddenly. He moves away from my view and I strain to hear him moving around the bed. He comes to my parted thighs and the desire is so very very strong to have him inside me. Finally, filled.

"Oh, I'm not going to fuck you. Did you think I would?"

...wh-? There's a flick, a gentle thud against my bound clit then a soft rub up and down. I can feel his precum. He's rubbing that most desired part of him against me. Teasing, tantalizing. I've never felt anything like this. This is not the same body I have been in whenever we have sex. I have NEVER had this body, this can't be real. I haven't taken drugs to invoke these feelings but yet I am intoxicated. He is my drug.

He continues to tap on my oversensitive clit and I come quickly. Oh God. Intense. Every nerve in my body is taunt and singing hosanna to his name. The tensing of my muscles in orgasm causes that lovely magical rope to tighten and continue my pleasure. I don't think I can take this much longer, I am going to die of the intensity of release and sensitivity.

A final spasm of my body and the rope is ripped away from my sensitive bud in a final crescendo of feeling from the force of my movement.

Wilted. I lay in a heap. He helps me from the bed and I am unsteady on my feet. Hours, minutes, days, eternity? I've no idea of the passage of time. He begins to undo my bindings, starting from the bottom. I mechanically lift a leg here, move a foot there to ease the removal of my bindings. Once the lengths of rope are mostly on the ground the only thing left is my hair.

He lays me down as a tired kitten, sated, beyond this world and in my own. He takes the end of my hair binding and winds its from my headboard to tie to my footboard so my hair is pulled with firm tension. I dose off in this position. I can't imagine anything feeling this languid, this comfortable this safe and protected. He leaves me there as he organizes and stores my loving binds. He brushes a stray tendril from my brow and kisses me . He undoes my hair at last and tucks me in. My last sight before the oblivion of the deepest sleep is of him blowing out the candle, leaving the room in quiet darkness.

The Darkness

She touched the little box in her pocket and smiled, feeling a contrasting shudder and affection for her lover.  Her mind briefly went to a moment where she found herself panicked, standing alone momentarily in a dark room, but she shook the memory away, the only remnants the faint scent of sweat and cologne from that night.

She never thought that she would be obliging this resolution. It didn’t feel like an option, but the choice was this or to leave. That was it then: she could forsake her lover or give up all her free will. Today, at last, she decided upon her lover, content to give up her independence and never felt so free until this pivotal moment.

She walked into her lover’s home. The front door was unlocked, as it was the majority of the time. Silence greeted her, and for a moment she felt herself losing her nerves, the joy in the feeling of being free slipping tenaciously. She gulped for air, determined, and searched the rooms, coming into his bedroom.

The sound of a bathroom door opened, and there was her lover, steam rising in the background, skin glistening, covered in only a towel, and for a moment she thought he was a god come to deliver her. His cold grey eyes widened slightly, the only indication he was surprised by her unexpected visit, before narrowing. But no god, this man coming out of a shower. This was the man who knew every dark secret in her heart, who made fantasies come true without her ever realizing that she had them. I love this man, she thought, and smiled.

Remembering her place, she kneeled down on the floor. Fumbling, her trembling hand reached in her pocket and pulled out the small box – her gift of freedom in slavery. Lifting her head up and looking up at him, she extended her hand, palm up, with the box in it. He smiled, briefly, at her, and it was as if the sun beamed down upon her, so radiant and warm did she feel.

He gazed intently at her eyes, not moving, as if judging if she were even worthy, and she felt nervous. He always seemed to have an air of aloofness, distance. A woman used to making men crazy to be with her, she was incredibly turned on by his detachment.

He loved her; she knew that, but she had denied him sharing her in that black room, changing her agreement of acceptance. And then instantly regretted it, especially when she enviously watched another woman being shared with the men, the screams of orgasms making a hot pool between her own legs. And then he penetrated the woman, and she was equally turned on and insanely jealous that it was not she that was being used so.

He circled around her leisurely, and she moved her eyes to the floor, too nervous to follow his movements. She wished he wasn’t always so self-possessed, and craved to touch her as frequently as she desired his touch. Suddenly he grasped her throat, his other hand tilting her chin up, as he bent down to kiss her from behind. Tongue met tongue and she melted, clinged to him like life, gasping for breath by the end of the kiss.

She realized he hadn’t said a word yet. She also realized that he accepted her gift, though he hadn’t even touched it yet.

He moved to the front of her and removed his towel, already so hard. Grabbing the back of her head, he dove into her mouth and she frantically tried to open wide for him, to make her mouth as inviting as possible for his possession. He didn’t seek the softness of her lips or tongue, he delved to the back of her throat, and she tried to focus on breathing, knowing that this was part of her penance. She dropped the box from his movement, and let her hands drop to her sides. Her eyes watered and she felt the urge to gag with his inflexible sex touching the back of her throat.

She felt herself become wet, and hoped, so badly, that he would also thrust himself between different lips. He understood that about her, whereas no one had. She became free of burdens with him, and wondered why it had taken her this long to finally, fully submit to her own desires in him.

He pulled out of her mouth in the same manner that he had moved in, and either she lost sense of balance or his hand on the back of her neck guided to her fall forward so she was now hands and knees.

“As tempting a sight as that is, get naked and lay on the bed,” he commanded, and she felt herself tightening in anticipation. She scurried to get up, in such a rush to discard her clothing that she cast them upon the little box.

The box that would be opened hours later, when they had spent their passion out on each other, bound more firmly in love and trust and understanding. 

Want to discover what other people uncovered in that box? Click on this wicked one...

Shades of submission

The rope, it binds me firmly in it's tight embrace. Mastery, dominance, control, binds me firmly to you. I see your love in the delicate violet marks upon my skin, the rosy glow of the ropes impressed upon my body.

"You're such a good girl"

The sharp sting upon my thigh, the soft featherlight caress of your tongue and your lips soothing the offended area.

My reward for immediately obeying given to me by hanging my head over the end of the bed, filling my mouth with your delicious taste as your hands seek out the secrets held between my thighs. Fingers then stroking the delicate throat you can see yourself sliding in and out of.

The bed is drenched under your skillful ministrations and I am helpless to withstand the maelstrom of sensations you evoke within me. My drug, my release.

Finally, you move to give me the ultimate pleasure and I am not proof against the grinding of your hips and the power of your hands. We reach that sweet haven of ultimate bliss and the world pauses for a moment.

Long after life has forced us to leave our warm cocoon locked in each others arms, I carry with me the sweet reminder of who owns my heart and my body, in the lovely, delicate shades hidden upon my skin.

 

Tied and blindfolded

"Tie me." Okay, so I'm not for subtle, or pretty words.

He smiled, indulgently. "Okay."

"And we're bringing the knife, and the candles."

"Okay."

I bounced on the bed as I waited for him to get the ties out of our ammo can (must be a military things). He fastened them to the four bedposts, already knowing that they need to be as loose as possible to compensate for a small female stretched out on a Cal King bed. He lit the candles, grabbed a large towel and draped it in the middle of the bed. I proceeded to flip myself onto the center of it, crinkling the towel so he grabbed the corners and smoothed it out again.

He reached over my to strap a wrist in, and his penis hovered above my face. So tempting, so delicious, and I wasn't tied up yet, so I lifted my head and wrapped my mouth around the shaft, probing the head with my tongue as my lips pushed further up onto his shaft. I started sucking gently, but he moved up further; I increased the suction, but he pulled out of my mouth, smiled and shook his head, then proceeded to tie my other wrist.

He brushed the hair back from my face, gently stroked the side of my head, and then reached back and grabbed my hair at the base of the neck. He forced my head up slightly and pushed his still damp member into my mouth, allowing me to suck a few times, then pulled me back, then pressed me back to suck. He had never controlled this element before, and being denied something I wanted made me want it even more. I would let out a sound of disappointment every time he forced me away. After five or six times, he completely moved away and down to my ankles, tightly binding them, forcing my legs apart.

He grabbed the blindfold and tenderly adjusted it to my face. When we take out ties, we always use a blindfold; I don't recall us ever using one without the other. I love not knowing where he is going next, trying to anticipate, relying on the sounds, smells, subtle movement from the bed. He has more of an advantage than I do - he can reach me without touching the bed, I am too short and he can almost always feel where I am on the bed when he is blinded.

He was still near my face when he proceeded to torment me again with sucking him, his hand back firmly in my hair, guiding my mouth and his cock where he needed, withdrawing and then allowing my mouth back around him. Just ever so briefly, then I felt him remove himself completely off the bed.

"Oh, we have all the temperatures tonight," he stated matter of factly and I felt something very cold and smooth rubbing against the side of my rib. I drew in a breath at the touch of chill, exhaling the breath gradually. Chilliness brushed lower, down the side of the hip and around above the knee, before unhurriedly making its way up to my inner thigh. I recognized it now as our glass dildo. The glass seems to stay arctic for so long. It nudged itself delicately between my lips, rubbed its way up my clit, and then grazed a trail around a breast, rubbing the nipple and making it pucker from the cold. His mouth warmed the cold flesh, a pleasant contrast, soft but wide open kisses to fully cover as much as possible, the tongue flicking the nipple a few times, before pulling up, grasping with suction and tightening on just the nipple, applying a bit of tugging with his mouth. I moaned and attempted to arch up, my pussy clenching.

He inched away just briefly, and there was a small buzzing noise. My other nipple was pinched and forced up, stretched for a nipple clamp to come down on it, the vibrating strong in such a small sensitive zone. He kissed the other nipple again, his hand slowly going down to gently stroke my clit, and I thought he was going to apply the other clamp, when I heard him whisper, "I wonder if you'll like this".

I felt him sit up, and another small buzzing sound, before his fingers played with my clit, rubbing back and forth until it swelled and became more prominent. Suddenly a vibrating sensation was there, and I protested (was it a protest?), "Oh fuck." He inquired if I was okay with that, but before I could offer any other opinions, cold steel touched the side of my breast that did not have the clamp. The tip of the knife point gently scratched its way around the soft globe, the flat of the blade massaged its way across my nipple, and I was breathless.

While I was aware of the shaking clamps on my nipple, and my clit, it became almost background sensation to the cold knife making its way across my body, browsing my stomach, scratching delicately on the inside of my thigh, flat blade almost pressing against my lips. It moved in a slow, icy, deliberate manner. He alternated between the cold smoothness of the blade, pressing it more firmly, chilling my hot skin; and the tip, softer, almost gossamer at points, daintily skimming and scratching the surface.

He set the knife aside, and his tongue flicked the tip of the nipple trapped in the clamp. The tiny little top became so central to every nerve ending, every thought. It felt ridiculously hypersensitive, and amazingly good. He gradually slid the clamp off, kissed the nipple more firmly, softly blew on it, cooling it with his breath. He reached down and carefully took off the clamp on my clit. "Did you like that?" he asked, his fingers massaging the incredibly receptive pearl, before dipping between my lips and discovering how wet I was. "Oh yes, you liked that," he confirmed, and I could hear the smile of satisfaction in his voice. He moved his finger slowly in and out a few times, not to please or press any buttons, but to tease, before he withdrew and I felt the side of the bed give slightly as he shifted away from me.

Suddenly a hot splatter stunned me, and my indrawn breath gave voice to my surprise. It wasn't pleasurable - it was fiery and shocking. Another scalding drop kissed my chest, but being more prepared, it didn't bring me out of any reverie - but it still required my upmost attention. Trickles bit by bit fell, first falling in the center of my chest, then my soft breasts, a few scattered splatters touched very sensitive rosy nipples. My body, already aching, adapted quickly to random drips; the hot drops brought the skin to a heightened sensation, quickly cooled, hardened and left traces with the weight and texture against my skin. I began moaning into it, unable to prevent a twitching every so often at the heat, but always an awareness of my own self and my increasing desire.

He brought the glass dildo up against my skin, skimming the surface where the wax was so swiftly I had no idea what he did with the candle. It was excruciating winter, such a stark dissimilarity, and I writhed as much as the bindings allowed me to, trying to escape the icy glass against some sensitive places and endeavoring to welcome the touch in other places. Slowly, the glass skated across bare skin or raised slightly over the wax, the wax a buffer against the chill in small places. Both nipples were massaged until they were hardened points, then the glass was rubbing against my clit, just briefly. I cried out, wanting...I had no idea what anymore, but just yearning.

The glass parted my lips, and dipped agonizingly slow into my folds, my heated wet passion seemingly an unbearable furnace that felt the onslaught of frosty glass, slithered slowly, sinking, still so cold, my entrance cooling with every new movement inside, my depths aware of the temperature difference but adjusting, warming. Once he moved the dildo fully inside me, he pulled out just as slowly, my folds cocooning, my excitement allowing easy movement. Then down, fast, quickly, and back up to almost the round tip fully out, and suddenly he was fucking me hard with the toy, and my body was so ready for the release, my hips moving as much as the ties would allow, my thighs taunt and resentful of the stinted freedom, and I was screaming into the orgasm.

When I was done, he wrenched the toy suddenly out of my spent body and positioned the head of his penis against my aroused entrance, pausing with just the tip. I let out a moan of frustration, my body greedy already, longing again so quickly for him. Effortlessly slipping inside, but just as slowly as first with the toy, he was so hard, I held my breath and focused on feeling his length slide down further and further into me. He rotated up, patiently measured, and back down, letting out a sigh of pleasure. After a few more times, in his attempt of fully tease me by almost completely retreating before gliding fully in, he shifted too far out. (The ankle ties make sex challenging, as my legs are not a fully spread as he needed for his broad body.)

"I have an idea," he said, and I questioned what. He didn't respond as he released my ankles. I felt movement around my wrists, but I was busy attempting to move my legs around his body to pull him into me. He seemed impervious to my endeavor, and grabbed a hold of one ankle and raised it up to my hand. I believed he was going to hold one leg up and enter me, but felt a fasten around my ankle, attached to the wrist binding. He had used extra ties that were otherwise too short, and I had forgotten even the existence. My other ankle joined up to my other wrist, and suddenly I was spread as open as I've ever been tied up. "Are you comfortable?" he questioned, the concern in his voice.

"Yes, but I feel very open, and vulnerable," and swiftly as I was speaking his mouth was upon my pussy, a gentle suction on the lips and his tongue thrusted inside me. His mouth was unbelievably hot, the suction was amazing, and I tried to squirm against the feelings - a motion that had always been available to me, but suddenly was not. I was splayed, full access to him. And oh my goodness, his mouth was doing the most incredible things with that advantage. He seemed to lick and suck for so unbelievably long, and I felt spent and ravaged. He hoisted up and then entered me, absolutely no gentleness - but my body offered no resistance. I clenched around him, I shouted so loudly that my throat immediately felt raw, but he now fucked me roughly. In the position I was in, he could thrust against me with no boundaries, he went so deeply into me at moments that I felt him hitting a wall, but beyond any sensation beyond orgasm, I continued to scream as he continued to pound into me.

A slight lull, a shifting of his body, after that extreme pleasure that took me to heights and would have kept me until he decided otherwise, and he alternated at a slower pace. It was more controlled, and I could feel the ridge of his head rubbing the inside of my quivering body.

Oh my...and unexpectedly sweltering tormenting rain on my breasts, on my stomach. The wax was commanding my attention, sizzling, startling, focused skin. He persisted to move slowly in and out of me, my body started to grip him tighter, preparing for another orgasm. Suddenly wax poured down the interior of one thigh, still wholly exposed because of the ties, and it burned a fierce path down, cooling and resting about halfway. It took me out the feeling of orgasm with its intensity, but his continual plunging pushed me right back towards that mood to focus on my muscles beginning to tense and shudder, and wax splashed downward again, bringing my concentration back, but my body wasn't to be diverted for long by a lowly thigh, not when the entire core of me was taut, tight, clenching, spasms rippling through that the third time wax was splayed the thigh was rigid and barely registered, consumed by a violent orgasm. I screamed again, forgot to breathe, floated and became dizzy, became aware of his decelerated movements, of his calm withdraw, almost a mockery of the ferocious orgasm just felt.

His mouth was back between my legs, and his fingers and tongue took turns pillaging my already spent but oh so sensitive sex. I sensed a vibrator, and he used my own juices to stroke up against my clit, amid my folds but not quite entering, and then transitioned down to my asshole. "Can I?" he asked.

He could have asked to bring in twenty people just to gawk at me, for all I cared at the moment. I was blissfully happy, exhaustively spent, easily amenable. I gave a shaky agreement - the few times we've tried anal anything with me I didn't like it, and we had only tried a finger, or a small anal toy, nothing that vibrated, and nothing as large as that.

With the same infinite patience that he used throughout this session, he carefully inserted the vibrator into my small hole after using a lot of lube. I tried to relax into it, for once a little easier just because my body was so complaisant after such pleasure. Before I could feel and fixate on any sort of uncomfortableness, he entered me again, not removing the vibrator.

I felt so full, like there was not enough room for me. My muscles immediately reawakened and began a squeezing pattern that was fast leading to another orgasm, but he kept ruining the pace. "It keeps slipping out," he vented, and slid out of me. "Do you mind if we do it doggy-style?"

I didn't mind if he did me on the moon, I just wanted him deep inside of me again. He reached up and pushed the blindfold up, and even the low lighting hurt my eyes, so I shut them. He freed my ankles, and I felt stiff, it hurt my hips to move my legs down and together. Next, my wrists, and then I rolled over, mostly so I didn't lose my nerve again with the vibrator. I pressed my chest flush to the bed, and raised my ass up. He cautiously slid the vibrator in again, and then sank his length into me. A repeat, that feeling of fullness that I was unused to. He increased the pace of his thrusting, the vibrator easier for him to keep in place, and it wasn't long before we reached a peak of pleasure together from this position. Once more, the release was so quick, and made my entire body respond with such force. He withdrew the vibrator first, and then himself. I managed to do nothing more than collapse on the bed, just laying there.

He laughed at my limp form, laid down next to me, and kissed me on the forehead. "You're a mess," he said. I could do nothing other than smile, (and tweet about it the next day).

Invitation

It arrived in the mail in an ornate envelope made of parchment so thick it felt heavy in her hands. This weight, too, may have been a product of the things that weighed so mightily on her mind.
Heart drumming as her feet padded against the floor into the livingroom, she came to a halt in front of him, breathless. "It's here" she said in almost a whisper.

His attention instantly shifted from the book in his hands, his laser gaze boring into hers made her shift her feet. She wondered madly if he could glean her thoughts from the pulse pounding in her neck. Suddenly his features soften, the book set aside, an invitation to sit in his lap issued in the patting of the proffered space. Tension easing out of her, as a sudden weight sliding off, and she curls into his arms.  He knows her. His ultimate pleasure comes from the pleasure he brings to her. He is in tune, connected, a part of her.

A soft sigh stirs the delicate hairs by her ear. "We don't have to go, you know? If for a moment, I had thought that it would cause you this much apprehension and not excitement, I never would have sought out the invitation in the first place."

She wilts, slightly ashamed, mostly confused. That envelope, that simple, construction of ink, paper, glue... It was so much more. Especially because all the time and trouble was undertaken at her instigation...

About two months prior to it's arrival, the path to this choice she was facing was embarked upon on a steamy summer night. Bodies damp from the sweat of vigorous sex and moisture in the air, they laid talking, enveloped in each others arms and whispering secrets, fantasies, forbidden longings in each others ears.

"Tell me, you can, don't be ashamed lover, I want it, every thought, every piece that makes up you. Tell me." A simple request, one she was not against.

Heart pounding, she licked lips that had suddenly gone dry, then began to tell him about her fantasy. Voice trembling at the start, she quickly warmed to her subject upon seeing the desire being rekindled in his eyes at her words. She wanted to be used, on display, caressed by many hands. She wanted him to see the outside perspective of her being brought to her pleasure. She wanted to see women lavish their attention on him and spoil him as she felt he deserved.

She wanted sensuality, sex, pain, bliss. She didn't want a dirty hotel, a shameful or awkward swap. Elite. "If we were ever to do this, it would have to be right, perfect."

She continued to speak of tantalizing things. She wanted to stare into a strangers eyes as she swallowed his orgasm. She wanted to grip the hair of an unknown man as she ground her hips against his eager mouth. She wanted to kiss her lover sweetly as another man pounded her into another world. She wanted to taste another woman on his tongue and be flogged by power of several arms.
Each moment and scenario she dreamt and disclosed made his mind race more and his body grow stiff. He'd heard, vague whispers, allusions, to a very elite house where those with an open mind could go and play and be free. This woman, this tempest of passion in his arms, meant the world to him, and to think of the pleasure she could have in one night, more ever, than he could even begin to bring to her at one time. He began to think of ways he could inquire, to make this fantasy a reality. There was a favor owed, one he'd been holding for something important. It seemed it was time to call it in. He'd heard invitations to these particular parties were exceedingly hard to come by.

Thought fled though as it was impossible to ignore the naked temptress in his arms and her shyly whispered, dirty desires. His body releasing tension the moment he slid into her warm sheath, he didn't realize just how much of an effect her words had been having on him.

As they writhed in the pleasure of each others heat, the momentum building to an almost blinding crescendo, they had no idea of the path they had started on that night, or what wicked delights were to come of it...

Speaking of wicked delights...

My lead

"Come here."

I move to place myself in front of him. Proud and naked, ready to obey his will. He places the rope around my neck and tells me it looks lovely, I wear it well.

This isn't the first time he has tied me up. But it is it is the first time he's laid me out and composed my body in such a way that I cannot move myself. Helpless.

He teases me, caresses me. Brings his beautiful cock within inches of my eager mouth just to tsk me for moving towards it, then he moves it away. Admonishing me for being greedy.

"The thing about you is, you like to touch. I think it is a far greater deprivation to take that away from you then to withhold caressing you."

He's right. He knows me. I'm strong and proud and independent. However, one of my biggest weaknesses is my love of tactile sensory input. To feel his smooth skin under my finger tips, to kiss and caress him. These are the things I crave.

Today I find it hard to find zen. To obtain that place of bliss and quiet in my head. My subspace. I feel each strike, I jump nervously at small caresses. I'm not being very good.

"You don't want my gifts? Why aren't you receiving my gifts?"

I try but no words are forthcoming. I don't know what has thrown me off. Everything is so intense, so deep. I love every part of everything this man does to me, but today I'm making him think that I doubt.

With a sigh he gives me fulfillment, he slides into my depth and it's like fireworks going off in my body. The position of my head and my shoulders is such that my position feels precarious. There's a massive dresser just beyond my bed and with my wrists tied to my ankles, severe injury would occur if I went over.

I ask if we can scoot up, I can feel myself sliding closer with each powerful thrust of his hips. He drives on, harder now, knowing of my fear.

"Trust me," he says.

I swallow, I try.

"Trust me."

My eyes sting with the burn of tears and one delicate stream runs out of each eye.

He looms close to my face with a stare so intense it bores into my soul.

"I will always keep you safe, I will NEVER let you get hurt. Trust me."

The tears are coursing down my cheeks now, but I do. I trust him with everything that I am and I know that he will do as he says. He knows about my horrible anxieties and that this is the ultimate surrender to him.

He is merciful. After I acquiesce, he moves me from the edge. He kisses my tears, salty on his lips. He cuddles me and caresses me and lets me know I am safe.

I've learned a lesson I already knew in the back of my head. He will always keep me safe. To him I am precious and something of great value to be cared for and loved. All that is required of me is to let go, to trust, to allow him to lead. I found my space that day, my subspace. The warm pleasant glow after play stayed with me, warming my soul. All because I was willing to follow, over the edge even if need be, safe in my lovers embrace.

Find out who is being wicked with me this Wednesday.
Follow me to...

Pride cometh before a fall

There it was, laying in tatters at my feet. I didn't know how I was reduced to this... I didn't know how I had gotten myself in this position. Or maybe I did.

I was ready to beg him; no, plead. I was ready and more than willing to make a deal with the devil to have all of him, and yet be consumed. There were so many things that he, this man, held that I wanted. I wanted his love and desire. I wanted his heart and his mind. I wanted him in my mouth.

There I lay, trussed up, on my back, on my bed. Wearing rope as lovely as silk garments, seeing his dick, throbbing hard in front of my face and I was consumed with want of it. I wanted to feel it slide past my lips, I wanted to taste the very essence of him. I wanted to have him fuck me senseless and with a fierceness to match my own.

His compliment, "You look lovely right now" as tears course down my face, I'm bound and helpless, my ass glowing red from the punishment it has just received.

My plea, "please".

"Please".

So much meaning and passion raging behind one simple word. I was screaming with this one word: "here is my pride, my heart, my being! Take it! It is yours. My will, my control, take it!"

"You've been a good girl, I suppose I should reward you..." He lovingly runs his hand along my tear stained cheek then finally let's me capture my prize with my mouth. Watering, waiting to taste. It is finally mine. It is worth it. The wait, the teasing. He knows how to drive me to peaks and push me right to the edge. Just when I am about to fall, to crack, to break, he catches me and soothes me and brings me fulfillment.

I get what I want that day. All of it. I was filled with him in my mouth, I was turned over and thrust into release. I more fully captured his heart and while I may have been bound and he in control, he was now bound to me more firmly than before.

I have no need of pride in the face of such things, and I more than willingly give it up.

Wicked Wednesday

Until Thursday

"I wish you could call me so you can hear me find my pleasure."

My phone rings almost instantly. He's at work, on base, in his office. My panties are tucked in his pocket and I've sent him a picture of pert nipples, creamy skin, silk panties. I'm being a bit of the devil. I've instructed him not to find release until he sees me later this week.

He likes to please me. Against his better judgment he's agreed to my request. Now I'm just teasing, taunting, making him feel every moment of that wait. To twist the screw a bit more I not only inform him that I'm masturbating at that very moment, but now I'm making him listen to my ragged breath.
The torture continues as I make him tell me what he wants to do to me, and I to him. I find my release but am still enjoying the sensations so I leave my vibrator down there as we talk of other things. I continue to throw sexual innuendo into our conversation; I like this game I'm playing. He asks what I would do if he just showed up at my house. The vixen in me tells him I'd let him watch me masturbate, then send him on his way to continue the vigil until Thursday.

I think he's had enough because suddenly the tables are turned. His voice deepens, evens out. He's speaking in an authoritative tone telling me that no, what I really want is his mouth between my thighs and to feel his tongue flick the sensitive skin of my bud. He asks if I want to be a good girl and of course I do. "Then cum. Cum to the sound of my voice and the thoughts of me tasting you."

I'm undone. My breath catches and my legs shake as I reach that crescendo. He did it. Let me know who was in control even while playing my game. He taunts back one last time about showing up and I tell him I don't believe him. He's at work and devoted, I knew better. He wishes me a pleasant afternoon and I reiterate about being impatient for Thursday.

I am languorous and stay half naked as I continue my afternoon, quivering with excitement over what is happening in just two more days. I'm talking to a friend on the phone when there's a knock at my door. I grab a towel (still naked) and peak out of the window.

It's him. My jaw drops along with my phone and I'm flustered. Oh my God he has work, how is this possible!? It's the middle of the afternoon! My house is a mess and so am I but all I can think is, "he's here! HE'S HERE!"

I open the door and he holds me firmly and ravishes my mouth. He holds my face and says "Never issue a challenge like you did earlier, I'll rise to it. You've no idea what I'm capable of doing." I'm bewildered at how he accomplished it, but rank has it's privilege I'm to find out.

His mouth, his words, his gaze... His every touch and everything get me soaked with excitement. I don't know how he is able to do this to me. I'm still amazed every time, I'm usually dry but apparently this man, out of all of the others, was made to push my buttons. The man could send me a text and I'm damp with desire.

I decide since I need a shower, he does too; two birds and all that. I make him join me and I revel in the feel of his skin, the water caressing us both. I want him so badly and to see him kneel in front of me, to bring me pleasure with his hands, his mouth at my breast, I buck and shiver and dissolve into a pool of taunt nerve endings and arousal.

I maneuver us into the bedroom. I know I'm supposed to wait until Thursday but I no longer want him; I NEED him. He's teasing at the entrance to my very core and I'm going quietly insane. Suddenly he drives into me with a fierceness that draws a scream from my throat. It's mine, fulfillment, the fullness inside and the greatest sense of release. He suddenly withdraws and I've the strongest urge to hit him, curse him, kiss him and beg. He teasingly thrusts into me again and just as quickly out. There are tremors rocking my body and I'm fighting for control.

"What is that look for, hmmm? Why are you shaking your head?" He knows full well I'm hanging by a thread and I think he delights in it. I've been cruel, teasing him, making him ache. I haven't thought of his reasons today, just my overwhelming desire.

"Why?" I ask, I beg, I plead. Why is he denying us? His penetrating blue eyes stare deep into mine and he says, "I am honoring you. I'm saving my orgasms for Thursday with you just as you requested. I gave you my word. I will honor you, you are worth it."

Oh God, I'm done. I'm in so much trouble now as his words move me. I roll him over and climb on top. I ride him. I reason he can't stop me. I need it I need it I NEED IT. Suddenly he says, "No!" and pushes me off but it's too late. As much as he pushes me over the edge I take him with me. I'm a bad girl and I've broken my own rules.

Then he chuckles. Somehow we were playing my game, but I'm the one shaking with need right now and he's the one who got off. He makes sure to point this all out to me, including the fact that now I'm the one who won't be finding their end until Thursday. He tried so hard to hold to our bargain and in the end it was me with no self control.

It's hard to say goodbye, we keep kissing and touching and I wish I could keep him forever today, but I know that I can't. We both have commitments. I am full of longing for him already and he hasn't left the door. He chides me again for issuing challenges like that. I pout like a petulant child but am already plotting my next challenge. I'm determined to out fox him.

I kiss my lover goodbye for the millionth time, trying to ignore the fact that I'm bereft at his absence even before the fact. My desire, my longing for him are so strong. He returns my kiss, and with a gentle caress whispers against my lips, "until Thursday".