Monday, March 27, 2006

I'm with the Dom: Sunday family dinner

Yep, last night, Z and I had dinner with his extended family. The delicious irony of sitting in a suburban restaurant with the family of a man who had me tied up a few hours before afforded much amusement--and pleasure.
Z looks so placid, you see--but he is anything but.

Sunday, March 26, 2006

Touching Z

When Z walked through the door, he grabbed me, sliding his hands into my shirt, pinching my breasts and kissing me hard. "Bend down and suck my cock," he said, pushing me to my knees.
As Z thrust into my mouth, I moaned with pleasure--this was a fantasy come true for me.
"Take off your clothes and go into the bedroom," he said, and when I did, he joined me, pushing me down to suck his cock some more, to take him into my mouth, deep and hard, until he made me sputter and choke.
Soon, we were on the bed and Z's hand was inside me.
"Look how wet you are," he said, as his fingers moved, opening me up, widening the space, stroking inside until I was ready to scream. "Look at that, you're already squirting," he said, as I came hard against his hand, the liquid gushing out.
Then, "Move over," Z said, as he pushed me back onto the bed, pulled my legs apart, and thrust deep inside me.

Over and over and over again

When I am with D, it feels like our bodies just can't stay apart--we want to make love and be inside one another, touching, feeling, as much as possible.
Last night, at D's, we went to bed and soon made love; again, in the middle of the night, he reached for me, his body turning to mine, his hands cupping me, my body opening to him.
I feel so hungry for him, so good with him inside's a feeling I have trouble putting into words, but I crave it--and I crave being with him.
My magic image of D is sleeping beside him; I love how safe he makes me feel as we nestle together in the night and how my body opens to him, craves him, even as we breathe and sleep.

Saturday, March 25, 2006

Freya: Yes, I practice BDSM

Wonderful erotic writer Freya has a super post today about how her interest in BDSM goes beyond theory into practice--and how BDSM can be--and is--practiced by totally "normal" people (normal in the usual societal ways, that is...).
She says: "I do like to think that it's nice to talk in terms of BDSM being more than just what you see on television or on some blogs and that there are as many ways to live a life tinged with BDSM as there are people who do it."

Amen, Sister!

Kai Akemi: So twisted--but so hot

Did you see this? Ethnorotica on Ningyo, and the work of Kai Akemi: Creepy, but hot.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

Master and submissive

Brat has an interesting post about Master and submissive and husband and wife--she is both and feels that her Master will probably never say "I love you" to her and that's okay. This interests me, because while I love Z, my Dom, I feel that I am in love with D--and yet, what I have with Z is one of the most special and important relationships I have ever had--and part of that is the D/s dimension between us.

Dominated by D

We're in a hotel in another city, on a big bed, in a white room.
I'm on my knees when D starts to spank me, his hand swatting fast and firm on my ass.
Soon he has some fingers inside me, rubbing my g spot as he swats my ass.
He's hard and forceful and he's dominating me, pushing me to the orgasm he wants me to have, and I can't believe how turned on I am
how good it feels for D to drive me in this way
Later, D and I are making love, breathing together, as I ride astride him.
"Come on my cock, you slut," he says and reaches up and begins to slap my breasts."Let me feel you come."
Dominance is something I hunger for from Z, but it's a small (very small) part of my relationship with D and I can't believe how turned-on I feel, how aroused, how wet.

"It felt so powerful when you dominated me," I tell him. "I couldn't believe how hot it made me."
D smiles. "That's something you do with Z, not me, "he says.
"Yes," I tell him, "But when you do it, it's hot, too."
D nods. "I only do it cause it turns you on," he says, "It's not really part of the way I am wired.
"I know," I say, but what I am thinking is spank me again.

Monday, March 20, 2006

Skin on skin

Skin on skin
our bodies touch
legs, arms, thighs, hips
breasts, necks, heads, lips
Asleep, we spoon together
Awake, we climb one another
crawling into that moment of passion
when two people merge into one
and rest together
content and smoothed out as clean clothes on a line

for D

A date with rope

"Do you think I am the only person at the performance tonight with a buttplug up her ass and a robe harness under her clothes?" I whisper to Z at the intermission of the play we are seeing.
"Absolutely," he whispers back, stroking my cheek in that subtle language I love so much.
At home, there is more rope, more rope than ever--Z ties my thighs and my ankles together, ties my wrists to my ankles, lays me on my back on some pillows and blindfolds me.
I love rope and I love Z and I love being his submissive and feeling taken and overcome and yet knowing it's happening because I give myself, my gift.
Z blindfolds me before we start, so I will have more feeling,more sensation, more giving myself over to him.
We play with a dildo and the buttplug, and he chews my breasts, and soon he's inside my ass, the glass dildo in my pussy and I feel so stretched I scream.
"You love it, don't you?" he whispers at me. "You love being my slut."
"Yes, I do, yes," I say, just like Molly Bloom, until an explosion of feeling overtakes me and I am lost in orgasm land, gone, flattened out in that particular flavor of subspace that has to do with coming till what little mind I have left is crumpled into a ball of wadded up rope and a wet spot I am too high to feel.

Thursday, March 09, 2006


I stand still as Z wraps the coiled white rope around my body, across my arms and between my breasts. I stand obediently as he wraps white cord around each breast, pulling the coils tight as he makes a yoke of rope for my throat, a halter that holds my breasts up, apart, bound. I watch in the mirror as he threads the rope, as he ties the intricate knots, as I transform into a naked, bound slut he could let anyone use if he wished.
Soon, I am covered in rope and lying on the bed, posed obligingly , complacent and trusting --and totally at home.
The rope turns me on, it excites me, and I surrender myself to Z and his passions, a bound vessel to be treasured--and used.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

D:" I've used all your holes."

Another night this week, D came over. We just can't keep our hands off each other.
In the parking lot of the restaurant, he told me I had to take my bra off inside before dinner; afterwards, he made me flash him in the parking lot before I got into the car (Yes, I like little games.)
Back at my place, we made love, then cuddled, then later made love again. Almost seamlessly, D moved from being deep in my pussy from behind to being inside my ass. As he fucked me slow and deep, he pushed me down on the bed and held my arms and the thrill made me feel so excited. "I'm fucking you, slut," D whispered as he held me down. "I've used all your holes."
I couldn't believe how turned on this got me--and how much more I came when he washed off and came back inside me, fucking furiously till he exploded and moaned.

Tied and used and dominated

I never knew before tonight that the activity of stripping naked and standing quietly as Z tied my breasts with a rope yoke and collar--making them stand up straight and pink--could get me so hot. Or that the simple act of Z bending me over and shoving his cock into my pussy from behind could make me so wet, so pleasured. Or that Z dragging me to the edge of the bed, flipping me over and shoving his cock in my throat, hard, as he thrummed my g-spot with my fingers, could make me--once again--go completely nuts.
Of course, what I loved best was his hand on my throat, covering my mouth, cutting off my air as he fucked me every which way he pleased.
Why do I love this so much?
The feeling of being dominated by Z is one of the most thrilling--and erotic--experiences I know.

Sunday, March 05, 2006

What Z believes to be true

  1. I am his submissive slut, he owns and controls me.
  2. UntilI met him,I did not know the power of my own sexuality.
  3. He set me free.
  4. There are dozens of men I have worked with, all over the country, who would love to fuck me senseless, given the chance.
  5. I love him--and let no one else dominate me.
  6. Meeting me and having me become his submissive is one of the best things that has ever happened to him--we have the most compatible relationship ever.


I wake up, feeling's Zs hands on me, his lips on my breast, nuzzling the nipple, his mouth licks my pussy, chewing the folds as his hands part my flesh for his fingers.
Soon, he is so deep inside me, I twist like a swivel, I moan in the back of my throat.
The way he touches my g-spot makes me crazy, the way his touch is practiced, relentless, driving me to an orgasm I didn't plan and don't really want to feel, to lying impaled on the bed, split on his hand as he reaches so far inside me I feel pulled apart, squirting hard as he gasps in delight, knowing how much I have surrended to his touch, how far gone I am into his world, how much he has taken me over.
I want to rest, but Z flips me over, spreads my legs wide, and drives him self in. My legs are on his shoulders as he plunges deep in and out of my pussy, my body grasping to hold him tight, his legs bouncing against my thighs until the moment he comes, shoots, explodes.
"I'm filling you with my cum, you slut," he whispers. "I'm coming inside you."
A moment later, he whispers in my ear. "I want you to lick your juices off my cock," he says. "Then you can cuddle up beside me."
"Okay," I say, and do as he asks, amazed at what he asks me, amazed at how I obey him.

D/s at the theatre

Z and I are going on to dinner and to a show. I'm wearing my embroidered corset, the black one that shows the tops of my breasts, and a little velvet jacket that keeps it decent enough to go outside. Tight black jeans and high heeled black suede shoes, long silver earrings spilling down my neck.
Before we go out, Z pulls me aside. "How pretty you look. How hot. Will you do something for me?"
Of course, I say. Yes.
Soon I am half naked, on the bed, head on the pillow, ass in the air. "I'm going to put this butt plug in," Z says, "And I want you to wear it all night. If you go to the bathroom and it comes out, you have to put it back in. "
"Okay," I say and put my hand in my mouth as Z delicately oils up my ass, rubbing his finger across the opening, teasing the puckered flesh with his hand. I know the butt plug is big and thick and that there's a moment, everytime, that it hurts like hell when Z puts it in and that moment is going to come and there is nothing I can do.
"Ow," I scream, and he's put the butt plug in my ass, and soon my jeans are zipped and we're heading for a cab and I feel it every step I take and I feel the bones of the corset cutting into my flesh.
Then we're at the theatre and I'm on the edge of my seat. The butt plug digs into my ass, and the corset holds tight against my ribs. Soon, I feel Z's fingers brush against the side of my neck, the gentle curve of my throat, the base of my neck. "I own you," that touch says, only in a language no one else can see--or understand.
I bow my head and rub my cheek against his fingers. "I belong to you,"that touch says, whispered in a language only we speak.
Later, much later, when we are home, Z takes the plug out and fucks me in the ass. It's after the moment where he's spanked me with the paddle, flogged my pussy, and made me squirt three times. It's after he's shoved his cock in my throat and fucked it till I choked. He shoves his cock in my ass and soon he's deep inside me, thrusting as hard as he can.
"You belong to me," he growls, "I own you, I control you, I own all your holes."
He pulls out and comes across my ass, the small of my back, his cock shooting so hard and so long there's a hot puddle of come across most of my hips, the small of my back, the crack of my ass, the warm cheeks joining my legs.
"Did you like that?" he asks.
"Oh yes," I say. "I liked that." And I think Master, his come running down my thighs.

Friday, March 03, 2006

Still thinking

about the moment I lowered myself atop D and the wetness from my pussy was literally dripping down my thighs, I was so excited. I'd never felt quite that wet before and his thrusting inside me felt amazing, so good.
Z is my first Dom, and my first BDSM relationship, and it interests me that while I love that--and Z--the much more straightforward sex I have with D feels so good. Yes, there's more slapping and pinching and biting in it than I might have wanted when I was all vanilla, back in the days of the many-year marriage, but the ropes and clamps and etcs are missing.
Feel lucky to have both.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

Squirting and more with D

D was here earlier this week. This man makes me crazy, makes me melt for joy.
He told me in the morning he liked having his cock sucked, but what really turned him on was fucking, and he is mightly talented at it, mmmnnn.
When we made love that evening, D reached inside me and rubbed my g-spot, a well-known method leading to insanity. I was so excited, I squirted twice, and when he came inside me and we starting doing the deed, I squirted when I came again, another first.
The bed was wet, but I was blissful, and D also felt no pain.
We spent the night together, curled up as usual, and it was beautiful to feel the length of his thigh against my hip as I slept. In the morning, we made love again and I went to work with a big smile on my face.