caning virgin

You tell me you've never done this before. Yet when I turn my head to look at you, I see you wielding the cold metal tip of the cane, using it to position me where you want me, to turn around and keep my ass up toward your hands. I feel taken and yet still in control.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. It gets faster and then the force of the cane bears down on my cheeks. It stings and thuds all at once and I flinch lowering my ass down and squeezing my buttocks inward, and then I feel a more forceful stroke and I almost frank but you let me recover and I lift my ass back up toward you.

You prepare me for more and stroke my back with the tip of the cane. You switch instruments and I feel the brush of your mini whip/crop. The fronds of leather on my back being slowly drawn down the length of me are enough to make my sex completely wet. The sting of the whip awakens me. My head is here, now. Nothing else enters. I breathe in the whipping. You stop momentarily and then I feel it again, the tap, tap, tap and the sound is pushing my edges. I hold my position and brace for the next strokes of the stiff cane and I am rewarded in my knowledge.

whore

She calls me at work. I love having sex at work. We chit chat. She tells me she has work to do. "You are going to hang up and look at my naughty blog and masturbate," I say. I am wet. I suggest I close the door.

She knows what I want to hear. Her kneeling between my legs. Under my desk. Licking my pussy. My clit under her tongue. Up on my desk, legs up, being fucked by her. My tits bouncing out of my white shirt, my pink nipples taut. I am so loud. The boss unlocks the door and steps in. He closes the door. Aroused. I hear him unzip and then feel the tip of his cock on my lips. I lean my head back and feel his balls on my tongue. My pussy is swollen and I can hear that sound, sssslpp, sssslpp, ssslpp. She hits my spots and I am bucking. She pushes my hips down and plays with my nipples. His cock enters my mouth and I suck. He pushes and I gag slightly and he now he fucks my mouth slow while she pushes faster, harder. I see her nipples tighten and know she will cum soon. The cock in my mouth swells. I want her pussy. I gasp and that sound brings her closer. The egg in her vulva vibrates. She tells me that I am a whore and I suck hard now on that cock to show her that she is right. His cum shoots in my throat and fills my mouth and she can see it on my lips. She grabs my clit and I am throbbing, she fingers my asshole and feels me tighten and pulse. She cums hard now, rocking me and I want her in my mouth to lick her cum.

I want to please her. Whore, girl, domina, slut, lover. She brings me bliss.

play parties....to sex or not to sex

ok, I get enjoying bdsm without sex because it's fun, it's edgy, it serves a variety of needs for each of us, and one of mine is carthartic emotional release but for whatever reason, playing at a party gets me charged up and increases my sexual desire.

Recently, I played at several parties with two very different partners. One, does not want to mix the sex with our scenes. One, can't even imagine being bound without being fucked at some point.

I am not a sadist. I like to top, especially when practicing bondage but it's not the most natural state of my being. I wouldn't exactly call myself a bottom either but I do find myself in bottom head space if I find the right partner, and yes, I confess, it more than satisfies. Yet what I've found as a top is that I like to inflict a good measure of both painful sensations and sensual touching. I like seeing a young woman's skin raised with welts and hear her moans and whimpers. I like to see her hand raised to signal that I need to ease up. I more than like it. It makes me wet and hard. In the latest play session I had, I wanted to fuck as soon as I saw the markings of the cane start to raise on her ass. I had to stop the beating before it got really going and my bottom was disappointed. I don't like to disappoint. That is truly my basic desire...I want to be the cream in her coffee, the top of the rock. Does that make me a service top? Does it make more of a bottom?

My favorite play partner can't play any more. She is in a relationship now and she thinks it would be "cheating" to play now. When I suggested that I was sad and missed our bondage sessions, seeing the supple white rope against her skin, and that it didn't have to end in fucking, she said, "I just don't think that would work for me. I wouldn't be able to resist the urge to fuck." I understand. I don't think I disappointed her much but now I am the one who finds herself wanting more.

imagination/desire

Fantasy/story:

The Boi

The canes and belts were laid out on the bar along side the bottles of wine. The hallway was lit with rows and rows of candles.

The boi was called for and he took his mistress’s jacket, and hung it with care. He poured her a glass of wine. He wore the whitest of briefs, tight across his ass. Miss R liked the boi’s breasts available and so he wore the flimsiest of undershirts which could be ripped from his body easily.

Miss R sat down and lifted her feet. Her boi, G, knelt quickly and unzipped her boots and took them off his mistress’s feet gently, caressing them as he did so.
“Thank you, please leave me for a moment.” Miss R relaxed, closing her eyes and resting her feet on the ottoman. She picked up a magazine and then shouted to the boi, “Come here.” She showed her boi an article about young successful women who had slave boys and girls. Everyone was of legal age but the head of the house had servants who performed various tasks including if she wanted, sexual favors. Miss R said that she might enjoy that type of arrangement. “Do you have objections boi?” “I will take them into consideration but can and will do as I wish.”

“Your pleasure Miss R is my objective,” he responded.

“Draw me a bath and hang up my clothes.” Miss R drank back the last of the wine in her glass and put it down. “You can bring me another glass when the bath is ready.”

Boi G started the bath and followed his mistress into the bedroom and took Miss R’s clothes from her as she undressed. Her skin, honey gold, smooth, lit up the room. The boi’s eyes appreciate her beauty, the high arch of her hips and ass, the curve of her breast, the dark nipple, her pretty chin, graceful neck, the sheer length of her back and legs.

Miss R walked to the bath and closed the door. She had every confidence that the temperature was perfect and that her wine would be brought after she settled in. Her boi adored her and wanted to please her.

G poured another glass of the pinot and brought it to Miss R, knocking before entering. Miss R smiled, her body relaxed, “Thank you sweet girl.” The boi enjoyed this feminization of his psyche. Miss R grabbed a nipple and pulled the boi toward her to kiss the boi’s lips. “Ok, you can go now.”

The boi went back to the kitchen and finished preparing the repast for the evening.
Dublin cheddar, fresh goat cheese, crusty oaty bread and slices of pear, apple, and strawberries as well as olives, seared scallops, and thin slices of rare red beef with horseradish cream. He laid it out on a large platter to please her eye and palate, contrasting color while keeping strong flavors apart to mix salty and sweet, tart and creamy.

Miss R loved this time in her bath, relaxing, masturbating. She would deal with the boi later during the week. The tension of the week would be played out with the canes and belts on the boi’s body increasing their sexual pleasure of each other. Now, however, he would have to be content with serving her and pleasuring her.

Miss R came out of the bath with her head wrapped and her robe on. She laid back on the chaise. G, came out of the kitchen with the platter and brought the bottle of wine. “Would you care for anything else Miss R?”

“No. Please sit with me.” She talked about her day and ownership of her new creative designs. It was important to her and the boi listened carefully to glean how she felt and hone in on her desires for achievement. Miss R was very accomplished and loved to be stroked for those things. It was important to be her champion.

“Would like to watch a movie or something Miss R,” the boi asked. “We have a couple of selections to choose from, “Before Night Falls” with Javier Badem or “Water,” the Chinese film.

“Water.”

The boi took the disc and set up the system to play. Miss R patted the couch next to her for the boi to come sit close. She took the towel off her head and reached for her comb, handing it to the boi. “Please comb it out carefully.”

He knew to start slowly at the bottom and move up, holding the top his mistress’s head. Her hair was silky, shiny, fragrant. The comb moved through her hair easily now.
“Thank you,” was all that was said when she wanted him to stop.

The movie was about an orphaned aristocrat is sent to a temple to live and encounters a temple prostitute whom she starts to emulate. Miss R loved these types of movies and enjoyed sharing them but only after the movie was over. She would pause once in a while to comment but mostly sat engrossed, entranced, taken away to another place.
She leaned into the boi, to feel his body and once relaxed, would open her legs to reveal her sex, thick and beckoning with a strip of dark hair leading to the center of her sex.
The boi touched her slowly on her thighs, barely moving his hand, fingers pressed easily not too heavy, not too light. She would hold his hand when the touch was too much sensation or push his fingers inside if she wanted more.

The best times for the boi were those moments when their eyes would meet and for a minute the world would stop and their lips would meet and a long slow kiss would seem like forever. They would go back to the movie but that moment was what he longed for every time.

At bedtime, the boi turned down the bed and Miss R would allow him the pleasure of sleeping there most nights. At times, he would just bend down, take the caning and be sent off. Miss R’s fingers would take her own pleasure, her shiny nails disappearing into her sex and her body shuddering while the boi listened intently for her orgasm but knew he couldn’t hear it but saw it in his mind as his own hands brought his climax.
Miss R planned an outing for the boi. She wanted to go shopping. The boi dressed, grabbed his wallet and went to get the car. He would wait outside for his mistress by the door.

They drove out to New Jersey with the windows down. They enjoyed these times together. Miss R would file her nails and chat about work or the movies. They talked about books and talked about their workouts. They talked about friends and going to the beach.

Miss R wanted shoes, a jacket and some new skirts. She also browsed through the lingerie. Slink adorned her well. She looked exquisite in the black corset the boi had purchased. The way she looked with the cane in her hand when she had it on was imposing. Her dominant nature shone through.

direction

I don't know how a simple hot tubby ends up becoming three hours of smoothing, touching, grooming, washing, talking, massaging, but it does. The care of each other bonds and creates intimacy. The private boundaries fall away. My feet are in her hands and my head follows. I feel guided. Warm, soft, strong hands washing, massaging, caressing. I am sinking into this warmth and held in her strength. Her natural talents. Leading. Directing.

Her honey skin beckons. The light in her eye calls for playtime. "So what did you buy?" A simple leading question. The hosiery. The thigh high silky stockings with lace trim are chosen. She helps me fasten the corset and I put on the hosiery. She makes some adjustments and asks me to turn in the universal sign language for turn around. I stand and obey and feel naughty and slutty. Where is the boy inside me? Fleeing fast. I revel now in my girlyness. I confess I didn't pack my heels and she is up and comes back with boots, stiletto heels. She zips them up and I love how they feel. I strut and she chides slightly, "you are not getting any tips dancing like that." I work a bit harder.

I am just getting into the dance and she asks me to bring one item from the umbrella stand. I bring three. I want ALL OF THEM. The cane with its silver tips, a strong birch for the punishment and those cold tips against my warmed skin. I want the crop with its mini flogger that stings and tingles. I want the new boar bristled hairbrush while I am over her knee, intimate and close.

"Choose one." I opt for the crop. "Bend over." I move forward slightly from where she is sitting on the couch and bend down, reaching for my ankles, my legs slightly spread. She pushes me forward slightly and I stretch further down my legs...holding the soft suede leather of these boots and feeling how difficult it will become to hold this position once the crop starts to burn. The crop strikes once and I cry out mostly from the edge of anticipation. She strikes me again in succession a few times and I feel the sting. She touches my ass. I look back and she directs my face forward with the tip of the crop. I think she strikes me hard twice and then again in succession just slightly softer three or four times. I teeter slightly as my knees quiver. I feel her power and my sex starts to moisten. She positions the small square ottoman in front of me and leans me over it. "Show me your ass," she says and I happily lift it, climbing onto 16 inch square like a circus act. I am praised. "That's it. Nice." Her voice is starting to drop and I know she is aroused.

Downward strokes in succession feel as if my skin is burning. Hard stinging strokes to my hips, upper buttocks bring heated cries. She lets me breathe. Reminds me to lift my ass to her. My hips rise as she meets it with more stinging blows. My head sinks down and I raise my cheeks higher to meet her. Each pause raises my threshold as the endorphins start to rise. I want her touch too. I want to feel the heat of my wounds on her hands. She hesitates to strike and strokes my skin slowly with the tendrils of the crop. I tingle and twitch. My sex is moist. "Say yes." I do. I want more. Stroke me. Hard stinging blows. One.....pause...two, three, four...five, six....seven and I beg for relief, pounding the sides of that ridicuously small piece of furniture that I am balanced upon. I will not frank. "johnny" escapes my lips almost breathless and she does not let up. There is the slightest pause as if she heard me and then two quick hard strike against my cheeks. I feel her cock now between my legs and one slight push and she is in. I move back toward her and she holds me still, fucking my sex hard, pounding at once. The slap slap slap and I am writhing. My sex swells even further and I want it all. I want the crop again and her cock and I want to touch her honey skin. My head is swimming. I feel the rush and I put my hands against the floor to hold my body up while she pushes into me harder and harder. My legs start to feel the pressure and my knee gives out and I beg to turn over. She guides my head to her cock and I swoon. Greedy pig wraps her mouth around the dildo and slides down the shaft. The push from my mistress into my mouth again and again and I gasp. I take her in my hands and slurp down sucking. I lay back on the ottoman and she stands over my mouth, guiding her cock into my mouth, deep, deeper, gasping now. Again. Again. Now my legs are spread and she plunges again. I buck and then she flips me and I ride her bouncing with the tips of toes tapping the floor and then she is pushing me up and down....I clench my cunt and feel her movements. I think I'm ready to cum and she flips me again. "Show me your ass," is all she has to say and I get into position, on my knees, shoulders low, and my hands down, ready to be fucked. My sex is dripping and I think I'm going to squirt when I do cum. She hands me the vibrator and in two minutes I'm pulsing, throbbing, and then more splooshing and I want more and as she yanks at my hair, grabs my hips, pulls at my tits, I feel the wave rise again and a surge of pulsating energy and I am throbbing, throbbing, throbbing, I keep going, pulsing, throbbing and I think this must end but I'm still open and then I feel my sex tighten, and the deep throbbing goes on and on. I am giggling and smiling and panting. I want her more now. I want her between my legs, in my mouth, under my skin.

The camera has captured us. I feel taken. Lead into my role.

porn, the bookish kind

Last night, as one door closed, another door opened. My J came by to watch the light show from my couch (aka, the sunset) and get cozy, have a cocktail, soak in the tubby. Her skin makes me tingle. Her smile is my pleasure. She wasn't smiling enough. I want to make her heart light. Nothing came through, not even the orgasm in the tubby. I gave up and turned to the porn.

I have about 12 books. Victorian porn collected from old Victorian magazines and serials. Cheap, anonymously written porn (two of my favorites are in this category and both involve non-consexual sex), gay male porn, lesbian fluffer, and modern memoir porn along the lines of O but on different topics including pony play.

Things were so bad, that when I started reading the fluffer to her, she fell asleep. I gave up. I took my porn to bed and asked her if she would like to join me and proceeded. I found it was difficult, for the first time in years to actually get off while reading my favorite passages. I had to get out my dildo and fuck myself concentrating on the scene of Jenny getting whipped by her master's head mistress, Sadia, and then fucked by their master, the Lord of Kordofan, and then forced to pleasure Sadia as well. These passages used to be enough to make a wet spot on the sheets between my legs. I always preferred the book of porn to the video but I wonder if everything I've seen and done has jaded me just a little. Perhaps I was just expecting a similar response that MSR had given when I read these passages aloud to her.

I wanted J to touch me, kiss me, fondle me, squeeze my nipples, tug at them, fuck my wet hole.

Eventually, I did cum and the orgasm was very intense. So much so, that I almost wanted to go again like you would want to go the second time on a roller coaster. I suppose the power of the imagination still holds court if you launch it.

piggy slut/monkey slut

I think about sex constantly. I believe I was born a gay man and ended up a lesbian.
I love women. I like men. I could have ended up a bisexual and still consider it.
I loved having sex with men (at least the fucking part). Sex with gay men was a thrill and easy. I never had to worry about complicated good-byes or them falling in love or me falling for them.

Sex now is more complicated but I still desire it just as much. I have oral herpes which sucks if you are a lesbian but it's not the end of the world. I still like to fuck like a monkey and get fucked like a little piggy.

I am weaving it all in. I chat online anonymously and have phone sex with men. I fuck myself and vibrate myself til I can't do it anymore. I have casual sex with women I date and I fall for one or two along the way. I want my heart to be full too.

About three years ago I started playing with rope. It all started when I saw a woman tied up on top of piano about five years ago. The image stayed with me. At the time, I didn't know if I wanted to do the tying for be tied, but I know now that I prefer to do the tying. It makes me feel powerful and sexy. I could just stop after the girl is bound and just look at her and masturbate and be happy. Yet, somehow, they all want to be fucked. I oblige (such hardship for me).

I want more too. I want rough hard sex, submissive humiliation and domination, I want to meet someone else who enjoys it as much as I do and share that feeling. It's hard to switch but surely there has to be another monkey pig like me.