Posts tagged ‘bdsm’

July 17th, 2014

Latex Doll

The other day, you gave me strict instructions.  I was get my pubic mound waxed bare, have my eyebrows threaded and then make sure I was showered and shaved just before coming round to yours tonight.  I wasn’t to wear makeup, had to have my hair straight and dry and was to wear a plain black dress and plain underwear.  Understated.  I didn’t question it; I know how you like me to be presented.  I arrived perfectly on time and you were waiting for me by the door.  You walked straight to the car, me following close behind, and once seated, placed a blindfold over my eyes, blocking out the harsh street lamps.  Still I didn’t question you, trusting you implicitly.  We drove for what seemed like hours, although it can’t have really been that long.  You helped me out of the car, led me a short distance before we entered a building and then guided me up some stairs.  I couldn’t hear much, only our footsteps on the carpeted stairs.  When we stopped, there was a heavy thud of a bag hitting the floor and then more silence.  I was still calm, waiting for you, waiting for direction, waiting for something.  You stripped me naked, turning me this way and that, with haste but not roughly.  I shivered involuntarily as my skin acclimatised.  The unzipping of something and then the unmistakable sound and scent of latex clothing; the squeak of the material, the smell filling my lungs, the weight of it moving.  Time seemed to stand still.  I still had no idea what you were up to, I was still trusting and calm, although the latex was causing stirrings in my cunt.

 

You started to dress me, giving me instructions, having me sit down for you as necessary.  You started off by smoothing dressing aid all over my skin, taking time to leisurely rub it over my body, paying extra attention to my breasts and arse.  Then I felt cold at my arsehole and cunt, you fingering lube into both holes.  You had me step into something and then pulled up the knickers to my waist.  I felt a bulk of material bunched in my slit but you had me spread my legs, sorting it out by pushing the sheaths into my slippery holes.   Thoughts were starting to run through my head now, were the threats that you had whispered to me many times before finally going to come true?  My invaded cunt throbbed, breathing quickening, a flush across my skin.  You must have realised the effect on me but still you said nothing, just continuing on with the dressing.  You rubbed lube into the knickers before helping me step into another item.  My feet encased in latex, material pulled up my legs, then my arms, my body being enclosed in the catsuit.  You took time to make sure it sat right, that my curves were shown to their best.  The sound of the zip closing me off to the world nearly had me on the floor, quivering in anticipation.  Next were gloves to remove my feeling of touch.  Just my head uncovered.

 

Finally, I felt you behind me, unfastening the blindfold and slipping it off my head.  As I blinked and let my eyes adjust to the light in the room, I could sense you moving around.  Once able to focus, I could see we were in a dressing room, with a rail of latex items, a stool and a table covered with bottles of lube, shiner and dressing aid.  You were arranging my hair then pulling a simple hood over it, one with holes for my mouth and eyes.  I caught a look of myself in the mirror, pure black apart from the tiny peep of my pale skin through the hood.  I wanted to run my hands all over myself but knew I shouldn’t as you were still dressing me.  You had a pretty red underbust corset in your hands, adjusting the lacing.  Once you had it around my waist, you pulled it in tight, the boning working well to accentuate my curves even further.  There were suspenders dangling from the bottom and, as predicted, you sat me down and pulled on black stockings with red detailing on over my already contained legs, layering me up.  Next came the ballet boots, ankle high and black, the heels so very tall.  You affixed heavy locking straps to them and matching cuffs to my wrists, snapping the padlocks slowly in place.

 

You pulled me to my feet and took a couple of steps back to admire your work.  Then you grabbed the shinner from the table and worked your way all over me, starting at my legs and working the polish into a fabulous shine, all the way up my body.  I shivered with your touch, not cold but turned on by the feeling, the smell, the anticipation of what was going to happen next, what I thought may be in store for me.  When you reached my head, you took even more time, staring into my eyes but I could not read you.  You looked happy and pleased with me, with the way you were making me look but I could not tell exactly what you had planned.

 

“Just one final detail” you finally said to me, putting down the polish and reaching into the bag.  “Close your eyes”

 

I did as you said and waited, curious about this final piece.  I felt you pulling another hood over my head, gently smoothing it into position.  There were no eye holes and no mouth, just a couple of holes to let me breath.

 

“Open wide” and as I complied, you pushed latex into my mouth.  A condom hood, just like you have mentioned so many time as you’ve held me down and fucked me hard.  All of my body covered in latex, even my holes. I shivered, finally realising what you must have planned for me.

 

You fastened a collar around my neck, snapped a lock in place and clipped a lead to the front.  You led me by the chain and I hobbled on my precarious heels and nearly fell.  You pushed me onto all fours, tutting with disapproval and continued to lead me through the building.  When you stopped, you grabbed me by the waist and pulled me up onto some kind of surface, keeping me on all fours, my back arched.  I felt chains attached to my cuffs, holding me in place.

 

“Are you ready for this, slut?” your voice in my ear.  Then, to the rest of the room “Before you is a rubber doll, three holes for anyone’s use.  Feel free to do as you wish with what you see and enjoy.”

 

I shivered.  I couldn’t help it.  Part of it was fear, knowing that I would be in for a rough few hours, part of it was desire and anticipation, knowing that my cunt was dripping, filled with the sheath, knowing that I wasn’t going to feel the touch of skin on skin.  No way to know what was coming, no way to know who was doing what.  I waited there as still and patiently as I could, knowing that there were people walking around me, eyeing me up, deciding if I was worth it.  I could hear the muffle of conversation, of laughter, of lust.  A hand ran along my body, caressing, grabbing, groping.  The waiting was so hard and I was trying not to make a sound, trying not to give away my desperation.  I corrected my positioning, arching my back more, thrusting my arse further in the air, making my mouth more available too.  It can’t have been all that long but it felt like hours before I felt a body at my head, a zip unfastening, lube being pumped.  My mouth was open, ready for it’s invasion, desperate to feel cock and suck on it.  I was so focussed that I was shocked when I felt my cunt being stretched, penetrated so deeply in a quick thrust.  As my mouth opened wider to gasp, it was filled and I found myself barely being able to concentrate on the spitroasting I was getting.  My cunt was getting pounded by a jackhammer, whereas my mouth was getting a steady but deep fucking, cock being held down my throat longer than was really necessary so I was choking and gasping for air.  Soon there was an addition of a probing at my arsehole, solid and slowly stretching me wide and I could barely remember to breath with all my holes filled and my body desperate to come.  As my arse swallowed the plug, both cocks seemed to speed up and I was quickly pushed over the edge, my body shaking, prevented from screaming out loud by the cock gagging me.  It wasn’t long before both bodies pumping into me bucked and stopped, cocks twitching as they both came.  I was still spasming from my orgasm as the plug was pulled from my arse and pushed back in, out and in, someone fucking me with it, until it was fully removed and replaced with something longer and attached to a body.  Another orgasm flooded my body quickly and I stopped having a real sense of timing and actions.  Cocks and toys kept pounding at my body and there were times when I could feel a group of people grunting and moaning around me.  I lost count as various combinations of my holes were filled at the same time and I could barely last a few minutes before I could come again.  People were rough with my, spanking my latex clad arse, pulling me around, grabbing the sides of my head, my hips, my waist.  The noise in the room, although muffled through the latex, still seemed to be getting louder.  More people were there, laughing, moaning, groaning.

 

The sensation was overwhelming.  My body was weak, exhausted, literally fucked.  I was used like a doll, everyone’s toy for the night and I was going to remember.  I was still high from the orgasms, high from the sensation of being the night’s attraction when I heard you at my ear again.

 

“Time to clean you up, my little whore, and count up the money that you’ve made me” and with that, you led me away, tears forming within my latex hood.  I really am your whore now.

June 28th, 2014

Good Girl

As you may know, I didn’t always see myself as a submissive.  Or submissive really.  I’ve been thinking about that a lot, having read various different things recently, including some awesome posts on Sugarbutch Chronicles and I also took the Submissive Playground s-type quiz.  Plus I’ve just been doing my usual pondering/overthinking thing like I always do.  It’s been interesting to look at myself in retrospect, realising that there always was a submissive part of me, just I didn’t always have someone to submit to.  Or, I should say, someone I could submit to.  My journey with that is still continuing, although I’m sure I have met my match.  I still don’t always want to now, which is probably one of the main reasons that I can’t do a permanently collared, 24/7 D/s relationship!  It’s not just be being bratty, there are just aspects of my personality that don’t sit well with having that power exchange all of the time, plus, being a poly switch makes a permanent collar more difficult, for me anyway.

There is a difference between being submissive and a submissive.  I’ve always been aware of it but I don’t think I really got the distinction until quite recently.  Well, the distinction I have in my head, of my kind of submission.  There is a submissive side of me, one that wants to give myself up to someone.  It’s the act of submission, of serving, of taking a punishment, of being an object, whatever that act may be.  Being a submissive, though, is that craving I have.  That deep seated longing I have to behave, to give up my control, to be collared and cared for.  It’s subtle, with blurring edges and I’m not even sure if I’ve really put my point across well enough for you to see how I feel it’s different.  Plus I know that other people will probably see it in a different way.  Maybe it’s because I see myself as submissive but I am his submissive.  Not just a random one.  Not a submissive for just anyone.  I can act the part when needs be (sometimes my camming work dictates this) but, in general, I am his.  Let me explain.

Sometimes, all I want is to be a good girl, a princess, a good kitty.  Curled up, being stroked, my head in a lap, a collar round my neck.  Or on my knees, waiting, presenting, polishing boots.  Or wearing a plug, dressing up pretty, taking photos of myself.  I want to be his good girl.  I want my head in his lap.  I want to kneel before him.  Follow instructions for him.

This is where I realise I am a submissive, but not any random one, his.  Always.

May 29th, 2014

SMD Conference 2014

Well, it is over for another year but I am still coming down from an amazing weekend at the SM Dykes Manchester Annual Women’s Conference.  As always, it has been a wonderful weekend, starting with the auction on Friday night and ending with the final play party on Monday afternoon.

This year was my fourth conference, although I didn’t go to much last year.  It was very different for me, not going along with a partner and also realising that I am such a different person now.  I was so shy and reserved at my first one and now, I can barely recognise myself as I am so chatty, involved and bouncy.  The muscles in my face are still sore as I can’t stop smiling and laughing.  Not only did I have a fun weekend but also a successful one as I was running Lash for Lasses on Sunday and it went really well.  I’ve had loads of positive feedback from it and I covered all my costs too so I was a very happy bunny.

The workshops over the weekend were really interesting and fun and it was hard to choose just one each session.  I talked about cunt, leather community, pegs and Girl Guides and it was really good to spend the weekend with some of my favourite people, many whom I only get to see once or twice a year.  I even got to say my goodbyes when I gatecrashed the brunch on Monday morning!

The main thing I want to write about, though, is the Monday play party.  It was the only time I had to play all weekend, not that that was a problem, although I now also have a few people I need to organise dates with as I just didn’t have time over the weekend (another entirely new thing for me!).  I got chance to experience some different needle play with a top who I have admired for a long time.  She did a needle corset on my chest, laced with ribbon and it looked so pretty (I’m gutted I didn’t get a photo) but felt even more amazing, especially when the needles were being tweaked and played with.  The sensations were awesome and I got very floaty from just over a dozen needles.  I’m hoping I’ll get a chance to play with her more at some point as she really is a gorgeous person too.

I had enough time to come down enough for my main date planned over the weekend.  Time to properly break in my new floggers and to play with someone who I have not done enough mean things to, quite frankly!  Baited by his implication that flogging is just a nice sensation thing, I pushed myself to be that more mean, that little bit more forceful.  Pushing him against the wall, aggressive kissing, pushing my body against his.  Then the teasing hands and nails, running the falls over his skin, gentle caresses, a light, slow start to my flogging on his back.  Build up and pace, teasing, testing.  Adding speed and force, adding my second flogger, encouraged by the moans and hisses as it got harder.  I wish I could have gone on for so much longer but my fatigue of the weekend and timing meant it was time to end things, however much I craved to do more, however much I wanted to continue with my games.

What I do think I deserve is my flogging merit badge.  I love my new floggers and feel I can use them pretty well.  Of course, practise will only make me better but I’m definitely a lot more confident now.

April 21st, 2014

Inadequacy

For some, BDSM is solely an addition to their sex life, something that they can do without, something that is easy to not do when life is a bit stressful and confidence may not be at it’s highest.  For me, it’s a lot more than that as it is something that I find seeping into my life more and more, being a core part of me.  Being kinky is part of my sexual identity and is very important.  It’s not something that I can turn off when I’m not feeling great, even though I don’t have a 24/7 D/s type relationship with anyone.  There are times when, as a switch, my everyday life, feelings and emotions may mean that I lean heavily to being more dominant than submissive or however I happen to be feeling but BDSM and sex are still very important to me.

I have struggled with my mental health for a long time and there are definitely still times when my self-confidence is low.  If I’m feeling submissive, this may lead me to feeling like I’m not good enough, that I’m not doing my best or not taking as much pain as I should be able to or I’m crying too much but, mostly, I compare these things to how much better I can be and have been on other occasions.  I know it’s not the best way of looking at things but it says a lot about me.  I don’t end up comparing myself to others too much in this way; it’s rare that it will matter to me how other masochistic other people seem or whether they are less bratty or whatever other trait.  I hold my standards for myself very high.

When I am topping, however, I definitely have a different confidence issue.  Some of it is definitely experience levels as I just don’t top as much as I bottom but I do end up comparing myself with other tops and don’t feel like I am good enough for my bottoms.  I worry that I’m not sadistic enough, don’t cause enough pain, don’t push hard enough, don’t leave enough marks.  It’s an easy thing for me to do when I am poly as my partners play with other people and I switch with my main top, or when I co-top someone.  I see them as more experienced, more skilled, more knowledgeable.  I start to wonder why people want me to play with them when there are much better tops for them.  In a co-topping scene, I can find myself shrinking away and pulling back, letting the other person take over as I don’t think I’ll be good enough.  My standards for myself are so high and I don’t want anyone else to confirm my fears by saying I’m not as good as so-and-so.

I know this is my issue to deal with and that it is as silly as wondering, as a poly person, why my partners would want me because so-and-so is better.  Or why do they want another partner?  Am I not good enough?  I know the answer is no, that it’s not about someone being better but being different.  I know that people must want to play with me because they get something out of it that makes it worthwhile for them.  I might not be as sadistic as another play partner but maybe they like someone who’s not all about that.  I might not be the world’s best puncher but I have a pretty good caning arm.  I need to play to my strengths and remember that I am me when I am playing and that’s what people want.

April 15th, 2014

Tied and Teased

I have you strip for me, your eyes not meeting mine.  You stand, waiting for me, goosebumps forming on your skin, even though the room is warm.  My hand gently strokes your face, my lips skimming over yours, not quite touching and I pull back as you try to kiss me.  A pout from you, a grin from me and my hand runs down your body, ever so gently.  As your eyes close in the moment of pleasure, I push you back onto the bed and straddle you so you can’t even think of moving.  I grab my rope and bind each of your limbs to a corner of the bed, simple, quick, secure.
Now I have you where I want, I can take my time with you.  I kiss you deeply before pushing the black ball gag into your mouth. A snort of derision, a slap across your face. You pull at the ropes that hold you down, unable to fight back, unable to move much.  My hands trace across your chest, down your arms, barely touching.  Another shiver.  I continue to tease, lightly caressing you, focusing on your upper body for now.  A gentle flick at your nipples and you shiver again.  I can feel your cock twitching against me, knowing what it longs for, knowing that you can feel the heat from my cunt as I am playing with you.
I move downwards and grasp your thighs.  Fingertips drifting up the insides, stopping before I touch your balls.  Another shiver, a moan of disappointment muffled through the gag.  So I shall carry on like this for as long as I can manage.  I want you on edge, I want you to be desperate, I want you to have no other thoughts than your deepest desires.  My hands continue to trace across your body; along arms, up legs, down sides and still I avoid the obvious parts.  My touch is getting firmer, yet, I drift my hand so gently across your balls, your cock, it twitching and hardening. You whimper through the gag and so I pause.  My hands start to roam my own body, hunting out my sweet spots, moaning as I catch them, my desire heightened by the look on your face, the twitch of your cock.
I grab the paracord from the side of the bed and pull it around your genitals, a make shift cock ring.  I wrap the cord around the top of your ball sack, stretching you, pulling your balls down.  I can feel how aroused they are as I tie the wraps off, leaving a length of cord.  My nails scrape along the underside of your rock hard cock and dig into the skin of your scrotum.  Your muffled gasp and moan, your twitching cock, all turn me on that little more.
I lean over the side of the bed to grab the nipple clamps, making sure you get a clear view of my arse, a glimpse of my cunt.  I straddle you, pushing my wetness against you, letting you know how much I enjoy this.  I grasp your nipple and pinch it between the clamp, releasing slowly.  You wince.  I repeat it with the second one then sit back.  I flick each clamp to see you flinch in pain, then run the extra length of paracord slowly up your stomach and attach it to the chain between the clamps, making sure it is just tight enough to pull at both ends a little.  I pull slightly and grin, seeing you gasp.  I press my knee up between your legs and you pull back, tightening the cord, pulling on the clamps, moaning in pain and pleasure.  I giggle sadistically and you snort.
“You love it, Boy.  Your cock betrays you to me.  Now I want you to suck on cock for me.”
I switch the gag to a dildo one, fastening the straps securely so that I can mount your face and push the dildo into my aching cunt.  I hover, teasing you with the smell and the sight, until I slowly lower myself right onto it.  I can’t help but let out a groan of pleasure as I feel it filling me up.  I ride it, slowly at first, taking cues from your moans of desire until I lose myself and fuck it as hard as I can, coming hard and fast, over and over again, my come dripping all over your face.  I take off the gag and brutally force it to the back of your throat, wanting to see you lick it clean, wanting to see how easily you can take cock in your mouth.
“That’s right, my little slut.  Show me what you’ll do when I get you a real cock to suck!”
You whimper but continue as you have been told until I am satisfied.
I pull on a black latex glove and run it over your lips.  You take it into your mouth and get my fingers nice and wet.
“Good boy”
I gently push into your asshole and start to milk you slowly.  Another finger easily slips in and I continue, backing off every time I feel you clench tightly around me.  Soon, I have four fingers in there and you’re begging me to come.
“Not until my whole fist is in there, Boy” and I reach for the lube.
March 8th, 2014

Secretary

I decided to watch the film Secretary again last night.  It’s been a while since I last watched it all of the way through and meant that I was watching through a different pair of eyes again.  This film has a lot of importance to me; not only is it a very accessible film to do with BDSM, D/s dynamics and features the ever gorgeous Maggie Gyllenhaal but it was also in watching this that I first became aware of my identity as a submissive.

When I first watched Secretary, probably about 10 years ago, I loved it.  It had a girl I could lust over and identify with, at least a little, and it was affirming: kink existed outside of my little bubble.  I did already know this; I’d attended Erotica exhibition and went to Kinkfest 2 but to have something so mainstream, so watchable, so talked about, out there was a big deal to the younger me.  It still is one of my reasons for loving this film.  As I’ve talked about before, I didn’t really see myself as submissive when I was younger so I could only really observe the story from an abstract point of view, although I could at least empathise with Lee’s mental health condition and self-harm.  I know how much of a struggle that is and finding someone to help ease that pain is a wonderful thing. 

The last time I can properly remember watching Secretary properly was with S.  It was when we were away for a post-Conference rest at a hotel with the biggest bed I have ever slept in!  I remember it clearly as I found myself struggling with how it stirred my emotions and thoughts, how it made me realise certain things about myself.  In watching the film at that moment, I managed to understand the feelings I’d had for S, in wanting to be the best I could for her, in wanting to give myself to her completely, in wanting to do anything she desired.  In that moment, I finally saw myself as a submissive.  Not submissive all the time and for anyone but for S.  I was her submissive.  I got upset.  I didn’t fully understand how I could feel like this, the girl who insisted she wasn’t a sub.  S hadn’t signed up for this.  She didn’t see herself as a dominant.  It was probably one of the scariest but amazing moments, realising so much about myself as a person from one film.

Now, getting on for three years later, I watch the film from a very different place, both emotionally and physically.  I was on my own, treating myself to a well deserved night in being kind to myself.  My relationships have vastly changed in this time, although I still identify as a submissive, but to E now.  Another unexpected relationship, another unexpected dynamic.  Watching the film, I see all of the subtle hints to high protocol; the hand gestures, the unquestioning nature of Lee, the emphasis on certain words and phrases.  I see all of this and smile, knowing what it is like to be like that.  I even understand more fully the use of kink and D/s in dealing with mental health issues, myself knowing that it helps ground me, helps me get through rough patches, by being cared for, looked after and, above all, having control “taken” away from me.  In fact, as many people realise, submission is never about having control taken from you but the submissive giving that control up, offering that to their dominants.  At the same time, I can see how I have grown, how things have changed.  I hope it’s for the better and I can have more healthy D/s relationships now.  I look at the film and, obviously, in the beginning, the relationship isn’t healthy.  No negotiation, no consent, no communication.  I’ve always tried to do better than that.  It’s not just that though.  I don’t know whether it’s just because I switch with E or whether it’s my take on D/s or just a slightly different dynamic but I don’t have exactly the same need to be my absolute best all of the time.  I don’t feel I need to prove myself as much.  Of course, when I am in sub mode, I want to do my best for E, show him just how good I can be but it doesn’t eek out into my everyday life as much.  In the moment, I am still his, still giving myself completely, still willing to do almost anything but I definitely don’t end up feeling that all of the time and I know that is better for me now.  Much as there is a romantic notion of 24/7 D/s that I love, I know that it’s not for me.  I am too much of a switch, way too stubborn and far too independent.  I could never give up control all of the time and I would never want to.

November 24th, 2013

The Hunt

All that you’ve told me is to wear my running shoes; now I’m sat in the back of the car, blindfolded, no idea where we’re heading to.  The car is oddly quiet; no music, no talking, no laughter.  You were weirdly expressionless when you knocked on my door to pick me up.  We’ve stopped since then but you didn’t let me see, didn’t let me out.  Someone else got into the car but they’ve not said a word.  I know what you have planning but the anticipation is getting to me.  There;s an excited knot in my stomach and I’m getting impatient waiting to find out what’s going on.

The road surface changes and I wonder how much longer this journey will last.  Through the fabric of my blindfold, I can tell it’s getting darker, even though it’s still early in the day.  We slow and stop.  Door open and slam closed and still I wait.  Bang, slam, rustle, slam.  The cool air hits me as the closest door is opened.  Pulled out of the car and pushed slightly along a crackling path.  Then my trousers are pulled down, my hoodie pulled over my head, the suddenness of air on my bare skin covers me in goosebumps.  Stood there in nothing but my trainers and blindfold, my arms crossed across my body as much to hide my shame as keep myself warm.

I wait, time seeming impossibly slow, movement around me; footsteps, car pulling up, doors slamming, metallic clicks, faint murmurings of the other people obviously here too.  I take the time to gather my thoughts , my feelings.  I can smell earth, musty, damp, the freshness of foliage.  The cracking of wood beneath people’s feet place me in a wood of some kind, explaining the coolness and lack of bright sunlight.  I start to wonder what you have in store for me.  There seems to be too many people around to just be tying me to the trees and beating me.  My nakedness so early on into this suggests you mean to let everyone get a good look at me so I doubt it’s a photoshoot.

I’m about to call out and ask what’s going on when I am grabbed by my hair and something cold is pressed under my chin, keeping my head up long after my hair is released.  My breath quickens and I feel my heart pounding with the initial shock.  I know the feel of your pistol against my skin; you’ve used it to scare me before.  I feel and hear your breath at my ear.

“You’d better run fast if you don’t want us to hunt you down.  You have three minutes.” and with that, my blindfold is ripped off.

It takes my eyes precious moments to adjust.  Two others are there, naked, confused, disorientated.  We’re at the edge of a wood with eight or so air gun wielding individuals just behind us.  I can feel the fight building up in me but I know that my only chance is to run.  Ignoring the others, I sprint off down what looks like a path grateful of my trainers.  I weave through trees, duck under branches and try to get as far away as I can.  I pause for a moment, catching my breath whilst deciding where to go next.  A loud pop and a stinging sensation on my arse.  I jump and look around.  I can’t see anyone but the tiny area on my bottom is roaring with pain now.  Another pop but this one misses, skimming past me.  I don’t waste another moment and break into a run again.  So much for a head start!

I hear distant bands and shrieks but I can’t worry about the others.  I twist and turn through the trees until I have no idea of my whereabouts.  Then suddenly, a burst of sound, a burst of pain, the semi-automatic firing rounds into me.  The pain flows through me, adrenaline and endorphins.  I hear rustling leaves, snapping twigs and off I go again, running fast, branches hitting my face, nettles stinging my legs, thorns cutting into me.  I hear pops, bangs, shouts, screams but all in the distance, all a little isolated.  I turn around a tree, nearly running into someone.  I stop dead, realise that it’s you and run, fast.  I hear you pounding after me, shots hitting me, your feet heavy on the ground behind me.  You’re catching up, I can tell.  I try to run faster, try to put more ground between us.

My thigh explodes with pain.  A stream of shots catch me in almost the same place and I stumble.  The pain gets worse, stinging, burning, the afterglow worse than the initial shot.  I’ve stopped dead, the pain catching me unawares.  You’re upon me, grabbing my arms, dragging me to the nearest tree.  Your full weight pushing me into it, rough bark against my breasts, my arms grabbed by someone else, pulled around the trunk and handcuffed.  The coolness of the air skims over my sweaty body and makes me shiver, goosebumps appearing all over my arms.  Time seems to have stopped for there is silence, calm, nothing.  Then the shots come, calculated, precise, my arse the target, close enough together that I don’t have time to process each one.  Burning, stinging, hot.  My body can’t take this.  I can’t help but shout out after a little while, expletives littering my gasps and moans.  For this, you move your aim to my thighs, which causes almost unbearable pain.  Tears are running down my face now, I can’t hold them back.

I don’t even notice that your onslaught has ended until your pistol is under my chin again, the stark coldness of the metal both calming and scaring me.  You don’t say a word but I hear the zip of your fly then the prodding of your strapon at my arse.  You grab my hips and pull me back onto you.  Your hand between my legs, slipping easily over my cunt, to my arsehole.  Your hand on your cock, using my wetness to lube it up.

I gasp as you thrust into me, the suddenness causing pain, mingled with the burning from my bruised arse as your weight presses against it. You chuckle at my gasp and continue to fuck me, getting harder and faster as I moan and push myself towards you.  I’m getting louder, closer to the edge, desperate to come when you grab me by my hair, jerking my head back, covering my gasping mouth with your leather gloved hand.  The pain, the ecstasy and smell combined with you still being deep inside my ass cause me to come immediately, convulsing, unable to hold back, my come running down my legs.

You pull out, tidy yourself up and uncuff me.  I collapse at your feet and kiss your boots in gratitude.  After a moment, you grab my hair at the nape of my neck and yank me to my feet.  You drag me; I’m barely able to keep up.

“Time to show off my prize from the hunt…”

November 13th, 2013

Submission and Collars

Collar

I’m a strange one, I suppose.  It took me a long time to accept my submission but, even when I did, I didn’t really understand the collaring thing, beyond it being a sign of ownership, something that I really didn’t want.  I’d owned a few collars as fashion accessories but nothing more. My opinion of it slowly changed, realising the connection I would get when S placed a collar around my neck, the nakedness I would feel without it.  Still, the collar I wore
actually belonged to me.  I did not wear her collar but my own.  When we had the uncollaring ceremony, I took the collar back but I decided that I didn’t want it giving to me directly; I wasn’t in a place emotionally to take it.  So E was with me and took it, as I trusted him to have my D/s interests and happiness at heart.  At the time, he was just a close friend and I wanted him and needed him to look out for me.

When we started playing more seriously and a D/s element crept in, it seemed like a logical and natural thing for him to place my old collar around my neck.  Collars and cuffs made me feel safe, loved, protected.  The Girl wears his permanent, locked collar but I know that’s just not something I could ever do; I’m too much of a switch for something like that.  My old collar was working out fine, most of the time, but it would get uncomfortable after a little while but I just couldn’t see myself getting another one though.  E talked of buying one for me but a few things happened and that saved me the conversation that would seem a little off for a submissive girl to be having.  The thing is, I can power exchange and give myself up in the moment.  I can submit, trust someone with everything and yet I cannot give up that teeny, tiny last bit of control.  I need to be in control, even if that does just mean that the collar that goes around my neck is one that I choose to let someone use on me.

We chose together and I even had it posted to him.  He brought it over and slipped it around my neck, padlocking it for extra effect.  It fits so well; wide enough to feel a little restrictive but comfy enough to wear for hours.  It matches the cuffs he owns already.  It feels beautiful, it smells lovely and it really is mine.  But it’s also a symbol when I wear it that he is looking after me, he is caring for me, he is in control.  I have chosen to give him that and that is what makes this collar so special now.  It may still belong to me but it was bought very much to show who I have given myself to, in that moment and it makes me feel safe and protected.  Plus, it is very pretty.  I’ve always loved wearing a collar but this is the first that has made me feel quite like this.

September 26th, 2013

Fear Him

Tied down
Gagged
Naked
Sat up but baring all
Restrained
Rope across my neck, no pressure until I strain
My fear
Brutal canes
Haphazard hits
My obvious arousal
Random marks
His cold eyes
My fear
And still my arousal
The threat of the gun
The warning shots
My fear
His cruel laughter
My heart racing
His mind games
His blows with words, with taunts
Searching his face, searching his eyes, searching for something
Finding only my fear
Eventually my tears
His smile at that
Unbound, still gagged
Begging to be used
Begging for him
My broken body
My adrenaline filled shakes
My smiles
His arms, his safety, his comfort

September 22nd, 2013

Shiny Kitty

Yesterday, I got to experience something I’d been imagining for quite a while, something I almost thought I wouldn’t get to do with the person who had helped me realise how much fun and how sexual latex can be. I’d actually been pretty nervous about it all (and so had E) because we had talked about it so much and didn’t want it to be less than we had imagined.

Months ago, we had started to talk about me dressing up as a cat, all in latex.  We sent each other links to parts of the outfit; a cute little pet collar, pretty gloves, a set of paw mitts.  We talked about scenes, I wrote stories, we shared ideas.  Even thinking about it all would turn me on; not because I like animal play particularly but because I love the sensation of latex, the idea of a pet-owner dynamic enthralled me and there was just something about the way we talked.  I even set up a board on Pinterest, putting all the things I liked on it that I had or was going to buy for the outfit.  Then, on my last trip to Cathouse, I found myself putting a deposit on a made to measure catsuit, one of the largest latex purchases that I’ve ever made.  A few weeks later, I, rather nervously, ordered the hood.  It didn’t really seem very real until I got a text saying the catsuit was ready and a card through the letterbox from the postman, letting me know I needed to pick up a parcel that I knew must be my hood.  Even then, until the trip to pick things up, I was still thinking in terms of the fantasies in my head and my writing, not having a clue what it would really be like.

Then I got to do it, to dress up, with his help.  To slip on my perfectly fitting catsuit and new gloves.  To carefully zip on the hood, cute little cat ears and all.  To have the little collar fastened around my neck.  The first polishing, both of us grinning like children on Christmas day.  It felt so wonderful, to be almost fully encased in rubber, my catsuit hugging every curve, a (borrowed) corset nipping my waist in, the buttery soft hood across the skin of my face.  Considering that less that a year ago, I said to a friend that they’d never get me in a catsuit, this felt so natural.  The smell was delightful and the feeling of polish being worked into the material made me melt inside.

Kitty collage

We spent a lot of that evening just cuddling up, sharing the amazing feeling.  And then getting so horrendously turned on we had to do something about it!  I felt so cared for, so loved, so sexy.  To share this with someone who means so much to me, who I’ve explored so many new things with recently and for it to feel so good was just…indescribable.  We spent some time just hanging out, T and E both gaming, me happy to sit back and watch.  Even T, who’s nowhere near as obsessed with latex as we both are, was quite taken by the whole thing and was petting away at me.  E would get a little distracted by his game and then catch sight of me and get a little giddy all over again.  I was just so happy; I really am the Cheshire Cat!

I didn’t want to have to take it all off, to feel so naked again but we got to sleep in each other’s arms, falling asleep to words of love and happiness.  It certainly lived up to all my expectations and so much more.  I never expected to feel this amazing head rush, to have such a high from it all.  And to be so desperate to do it all again.  All the fears and nerves were for nothing, all the anticipation so very much worth it.  I really am to the point of accepting that part of who I am is a massive latex fetishist and to have someone to share that with makes me so very, very lucky.  The fact I have so much more with him makes me pinch myself just to check it’s not just a dream.


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