It’s what I needed

I’m on my knees, bent forward, face pressed against the floor, my wrists bound behind my back. “The Other Guy’s” cock pounds my arsehole, and it feels so good to be being used so roughly by him.

It’s been a couple of months since we last saw and fucked each other. Life gets in the way sometimes. We are making up for lost time.

I’ve already sucked him off; taking a deliciously large load of cum in my mouth; savouring it before swallowing it down. He repaid the compliment by eating me to a series of shuddering orgasms; each one more intense and more draining than the last.

We’ve already fucked twice, the first with him on top, pounding my cunt, hitting me hard, pinning me to the bed with each thrust. Taking me. Using me. Fucking me. The second time was more leisurely; with me on top this time; riding his cock with carefree abandon, impaling myself on those wonderfully thick, hard inches. Him, content to let me do all the work. Me, happy to just let him lie back while I use his cock for my enjoyment.

I cam both times; both as the rider and the ridden; both times savouring the feeling of my cunt tightening and contracting around his cock – those oh so familiar inches of him inside me that feel so different from those of Master C.

The first time, he pulled out and came all over my boobs, then proceeded to rub his cum into their skin as he licked my cunt until he elicited yet another shuddering climax. The second time, I slid off and took him in my mouth, savouring the taste of my cunt in his shaft as I sucked him to a climax.

We rested, cuddled together, using the time to refamiliarise ourselves with each others bodies. Hands exploring, stroking, caressing. Lips kissing; bodies responding.

And now, here I was, being taken again. There was none of the tenderness we’d shared earlier; this time it was raw, it was rough. It had a different kind of urgency to our earlier sexual collisions. Those had been driven from the need to be with each other, the need to feel each other, the need to use and be used by each other. This time it was driven by the need to make the most out of our remaining time. Soon, I would return home to Master C, to tell Him what I had done, to receive whatever punishment it was determined was appropriate for my actions, to pay the price and then to perform whatever acts of contrition I felt would atone for what I was doing now and had already done.

That was still in the future, however; in the now, “The Other Guy” was fucking my firmly and relentlessly in the arse; having declared he needed the extra tightness if he was going to be able to come once more.

As his cock pounded my back passage, I urged him on. “Fuck my arse!” I cried, “Use it! Fuck it! Fuck it hard!”

He grabbed the restraints around my wrists and pulled sharply, lifting my head and upper body from the floor.

“Filthy slut!” he groaned. “Dirty slut who loves getting her arse fucked hard!”

“Yes!” I moaned. “I’m a filthy slut! I love the way you fuck my arse!”

He released my wrists and let me fall forward to the floor again. Grabbing my hips, he pounded harder, his balls slapping against my cunt with every stroke.

“I’m going to come on your arse! I’m going to paint your arse cheeks with my cum!”

“Oh yes, please! I love that!”

The relentless pounding continued and then, suddenly, he was gone. I experienced a wrenching momentary sensation of emptiness and then the sticky warmth of his load as it landed on my skin.

My afternoon with “The Other Guy” was over. My evening atoning for it with Master C was still to come. I was ready to face whatever penalty was required of me. An afternoon spent with “The Other Guy” had, as it so often did, started the process of restoring a certain equilibrium within me, and now it was time for me to return to Master C to complete the process.

Walking on air

First, the rope goes taut, as the slack is taken up, then it begins to tighten. The rough weave presses into the skin of my neck, squeezing tighter until the limiter is reached. Master C smiles at me, giving me a few moments to contemplate my circumstances, before he continues..

Another turn of the handle. My heels rise and I balance on the balls of my feet. The rope digs in. It’s uncomfortable, but I can breath.

Master C walks over to me. He puts a hand between my thighs, slides His middle finger between my labia. I squirm; my toes struggling for purchase on the raised blocks beneath them. His finger slides up inside me; I’m amazed at how easily it enters me, how wet I am. Master C skips His finger from my cunt and presses it to my mouth. “Taste yourself!” He demands, “Taste how much you are enjoying this.”

I comply, savouring the rich flavour of my essence on His finger. Master C is right; despite the discomfort, despite the difficulty to breath, I am enjoying this most exquisite form or torture.

He returns to the handle. Another couple of ratchet clicks; I am pulled imperceptibly higher. Stood, as I am, feet apart on blocks, my toes barely maintain contact. If one leg goes, if one foot loses that most tenuous of holds with the block beneath it, the other will inevitably follow. The rope cannot go any tighter, but still it digs in as it takes more of my weight.

Another click, and yet another. Somehow, I don’t know how, I maintain contact. Again Master C smiles; again He approaches me. The anticipation builds; becomes unbearable.

He touches me. The gentlest of contacts, almost as if a butterfly caressed my clit. That touch is my undoing. I flinch. As I flinch, my left foot breaks contact with the block beneath it. Unbalanced, my right foot is pulled from the dubious support of its block. My feet come together, scant inches above the ground, but above it they are; there is air between me and the safety of the floor.

The rope digs in as I hang there, pressing against the front of my neck, putting pressure on my windpipe. I can breath, but only just as my feet sway above the ground, like a pendulum.

Mere seconds passed, before Master C lowered me to safety. Seconds that seemed like an eternity as I hung there, suspended, helpless, entirely at the mercy of gravity, dependent on the limiter to prevent the rope from tightening fully.

The relief as the rope was loosened was almost orgasmic; the euphoric intensity of that first, deep, unrestricted breath was as intense as any climactic release. Master C held me tight as, with racing heart and almost hyperventilating, my body shook.

Later, Master C skilfully brought me to climax with His tongue; then lay back and let me ride Him with a carefree abandon until I came again and He unloaded inside me.

All in all, it was a hugely intense experience. I suspect I’m going to need to wear a scarf or polo-neck for the next few days though.

Cliff top views

After the long drudge through the storms and miserable weather of January and February, yesterday was one of those bright, early spring days that help lift the soul. The sun was shining, birds were singing and there was some genuine warmth in the sunshine. Since it was such a nice day, Master C and I took a drive from our village to the nearby coastal trail.

The trail goes through some wooded stretches, passes a pretty impressive waterfall, but mostly follows a gently undulating path along the cliff-tops. It’s one of our favourite short(ish) walking routes, looking out over the Forth of Clyde across towards Arran. After parking up, we followed the path for about 3½ miles until we reached the viewpoint we were aiming for. From here, on a clear day like yesterday, you can look to the southwest and see the coast of Northern Ireland. You can, conveniently, see for about half a mile along the path in both directions. During the summer, and the school holidays, the path would be teeming with walkers; individually, couples, families, the occasional runner, but yesterday we met two dog walkers on our way to the view point and, apart from the hum of the traffic from a fairly busy main road about 500m behind us, and a couple of fishing boats that we could make out in the Forth, we could have been the only people in the world. What came next, was probably inevitable.

“If I brace myself against the wall, you could fuck me from behind,” I observed.

While we may, just about have been visible from the road I mentioned, it wasn’t actually a clear view and given the speed the cars were doing as the zipped along, it was doubtful that anyone would actually notice anything more than what looked like two people looking out over the cliffs.

Master C flashed me a smile. “Good girl,” He said, “Now, drop them!”

I wriggled my jeans and knickers down to my ankles and supported myself against the wall. Master C ran His fingers up the inside of my thighs and between the folds of my cunt, sliding them back and forth. I was amazed how wet I was and, when He occasionally forced His fingers into my cunt, I felt myself on the verge of orgasm already.

Master C paused, and lifted His fingers to my mouth. I took them between my lips and licked my juices from them, savouring the taste of myself. His fingers returned to my cunt. Distracted, I kept a watch as best I could for anyone coming towards us along the path; thankfully there was still no one.

Fingers of one hand in my cunt, the other hand up my top, squeezing my boobs, Master C tormented me relentlessly, mercilessly. I was loving the attention of His fingers, but I’d suggested a fuck, because I really wanted a fuck; to have His cock inside me. Every moment He denied me increased the risk of some walker, runner, or cyclist appearing and depriving me of what I wanted so much.

“Come first, then I’ll fuck you,” Master C breathed into my ear.

I didn’t really need to be told twice. I pushed my hips back, increasing the pressure of Master C’s finger against my clit, and let go; a long moan released from deep inside me.

Fingers gone; the head of Master C’s cock pressed against my opening and pushed its way in.

Braced against the wall, the sunlight from a blue sky reflecting off the sea below, Master C’s cock deep inside me; everything felt so good.

Master C thrust hard. I pushed my hips back to meet Him. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back sharply as he drove His cock into me, pounding my cunt with deep, hard strokes.

There was an urgency to the way Master C fucked me. An urgency borne of a deep need to release and the possibility of interruption.

“Naughty girl! Brazen hussy! Mischievous slut!” These were just some of the names He called me as He fucked me, and I felt like I was everyone of those things. I was naughty and mischievous and, being fucked in a spot where I could so easily be observed, was definitely brazen.

Master C’s breathing became more laboured. The pace and intensity of His thrusts increased. He released my hair, grabbed my hips, pulled me firmly back to Him as He thrust hard inside me and, moaning my name, came hard inside me.

He pulled out. I turned and squatted down, taking His cock in my mouth, relishing the mixed flavours of us as His cum dripped from my cunt.

Once I had Him cleaned, we both straightened ourselves up, walked over to one of the tables, poured ourselves drinks from the flask and enjoyed the snacks we’d brought for when we got here.

A couple jogged by as we picnicked. The waved and gave us a cheery “Hello” to which we responded in kind. As we retraced our steps back to the car park, we encountered another couple of walkers. With Master C’s cum still dribbling out of me, the walk back was decidedly less comfortable than the walk out had been, but all things considered, I didn’t mine at all.

Breakfast time fun

I’m pottering about in the kitchen doing my best (but not very good) impression of an early morning domestic goddess. Master C comes up behind me, wraps His arms around my waist and kisses me on that spot where the back of my neck meets my shoulders. It is a kiss with intent. He could have kissed me anywhere else if it was “just” a kiss, but when He kisses me there, He knows exactly how I will react.

I moan and press back against Him. He kisses me again, His hands sliding up under my nightshirt, as he cups and squeezes my boobs, teasing my nipples with His thumbs.

I can feel the firmness of His cock as I squirm against Him.

His right hand detaches itself from my boob and strokes the inside of my thigh, up under my hem of my nightshirt, moving the gusset of my knickers aside. Master C can feel how wet He has already made me.

“You want my cock inside you, don’t you?” He asks.

“Yes Sir, I do.”

“You want me to fuck you?”

“I do Sir, very much.”

“You’re a cock-hungry little slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes Sir, I am!”

He slaps my arse. “Say it!” Master C commands.

“I’m your cock-hungry little slut, Sir?”

“And what do you want?”

“I want your cock inside me, Sir. I want you to fuck me with your lovely thick cock.”

His fingers find their way to my mouth. I taste myself on them and it turns me on even more.

The head of Master C’s cock presses against my entrance. I long for Him to thrust it deep up inside me, but instead He teases me, flicking the head between my folds and over my clit.

I begin to whimper. His hand slaps down hard on my arse. “Silence!” He commands as He continues to tease me. I struggle to comply.

My cunt is on fire. My legs tremble with pent up frustration and anticipation as He torments me, first with the head of His cock, then with His fingers. Again and again I am made to taste myself, and each time the flavour is subtly different, evidence of my increased arousal.

Finally Master C grabs a handful of my hair and pulls my head sharply back. “I’m going to fuck you now,” He says. The head of His cock presses against my opening. It slides in so easily. Slowly, He fills me, letting me savour every delicious inch of His cock before He begins to thrust.

There is no slow, gentle build up; from the very first stroke Master C fucks me with an animal intensity. One hand squeezes my boobs as the other squeezes my neck.

“You… like… it… like… this… Don’t you… slut? He asks, each word punctuated with a hard, forceful thrust.

“Oh yes!” I gasp, “I love how you’re fucking me.” And it’s true, I love the roughness, I love the feeling of being taken, being used by Master C for His pleasure.

“What are you?” He asks.

“I’m a cock-hungry slut!” I reply, “I’m your cock-hungry slut.”

“You want my cum, don’t you?”

“Yes! Oh yes! I want your cum!”

Master C yanks my head back by my hair again. His body collides against me. The corner of the kitchen worktop cuts into the front of my thighs as he forces me against it. I feel the first flickers of my climax ignite.

“May I come, Sir?” I ask.

“Soon,” He replies, “When I say.”

He continues to fuck me. It’s a relentless, merciless pounding and I’m loving every second, every thrust, every collision of His body into mine. The pressure inside me builds and I sense the pressure in Him to. His hands now grasping my Hips, pulling me on to Him as He pushes hard inside me.

I whimper with frustration as I struggle to hold back; the need for release now burning through every nerve.

Finally Master C relents. “You may come now,” He growls.

I let go. the dam breaks, my climax rips through me and, in that instant, I feel Him release inside me.

When He pulls out, Master C sits on one of the kitchen chairs and commands me to clean Him. I turn, approach and drop to my knees. Taking His cock in my mouth, I savour the mixed flavours of us as I comply with His command.

His cum dribbles into my knickers as I make Him His coffee and prepare some toast. We both know that, intense as the orgasm He had given me was, I will need more. He leaves for work, and I am left with the instruction that I must wait until after lunch until I can relieve myself further. It was a very long morning.

Keeping it simple

I write a lot about the D/s side of my relationship with Master C. For that reason you’d be forgiven if you thought my sex-life was all kink, pain, swinging, thrashings, clamps, plugs, facials, humiliation and degradation, and just generally all things pertaining to being a masochistic submissive slut.

Now, while it’s true that all of things listed above are major parts of what goes into making me the sexual being that I am, and while they are all hugely important to the way I express myself and have my needs met sexually, and, while I’m certain those are the details that most of my readers find most “interesting”, the truth is that the majority of the sex I have is, actually, pretty “ordinary”; it’s the kind of sex that even the most “vanilla” of readers would be able to relate to.

At the end of the day, sex is one of the many forms of intimacy that exist within a relationship. While, for Master C and I, it often contains a BDSM element, albeit to a greater or lesser degree, often it is just that expression of physical intimacy; the ultimate closeness of two bodies enjoying each other.

Take this morning, for example. I woke to feel, as I almost always do, Master C’s body spooned firmly behind mine. I could feel His early morning hardness. His arms around me, His hands cupped my boobs, His thumbs slowly stroking their surface.

I wriggled my bum against Him to let Him know I was awake. He kissed my neck, His thumb brushed my nipple; I moaned softly as my body started to respond.

At some point in the proceedings, I turned to face Him, stroking His cock as we kissed and caressed. I slid down under the sheets and took His cock in my mouth; teasing Him, tasting Him, turning Him on.

I move back up, and Master C fingers my cunt as He teases my nipples with His lips and tongue. I grind my hips, driving His fingers deeper inside me as the sensations increase the pressure inside me.

From there the scene shifts and Master C is above me, His cock poised, ready to slide into me. Delicious long seconds pass before He rocks His hips, entering me slowly, but firmly; letting me savour every inch as His cock fills me.

We fuck. At first slowly; both of us savouring each stroke and thrust. Hands stroke skin; He brushes a lock of hair from my face as He moves to kiss me; my hands caress His arse as He moves inside me.

A change of position; Master C thrusts harder. His body becomes tense as mine becomes more fluid. Each stroke, firm, measured, controlled. Each downward thrust of His hips met with an upward tilt of mine. His head dips; teeth fasten around one nipple, the other pinched between His fingers.

We roll over and I ride His cock with carefree abandon; impaling myself on His hardness. His hands cup and press my boobs together, His lips and tongue tease my nipples. I grind myself down firmly against Him. I ride Him until my orgasm is triggered, its energy pulsing through me.

We roll over again. Master C takes me hard and fast. His body collides with mine. A rhythmic “slap”, “slap”, “slap” echoes as His skin connects with mine.

I close my eyes as I come again; gentler this time, but sill wonderfully intense. Master C’s breathing becomes increasingly laboured. The staccato movements of His hips become increasingly urgent. The tender, caring, loving partner has been replaced by a male in full rut; the primal savage Has once again been release.

These are the moments I love most; those moments where Master C loses Himself in the act of fucking, those moments where He is a slave to His most basic urges; He is no longer fucking me, He is simply fucking, driven by the need to release.

A groan, a final surging thrust, that briefest, almost imperceptible moment, and then His cum begins to fill me. Shorter, shallower thrusts, each followed by a smaller release of His essence inside me.

Spent, Master C slumps on to me, squashing me beneath Him. We lie there, me holding Him as He returns from His primal possession.

His hand once again strokes the hair from my face. A kiss and a smile. Master C slowly pulls out and rolls on to His back. I roll on to my side, kiss His cheek and snuggle against Him as His cum starts to ooze from my cunt. We lie there together until it is time to get up, or we decide to do it again.

This morning, we did it again; and it was even better…

The perfect Friday evening

I’m on my knees. Master C’s lovely thick cock fills my cunt with deep hard strokes. Each thrust drives me forward, forcing more of Geoff’s cock into my mouth. Master C’s hands are on my hips; Geoff’s hands are on my shoulders. Their pushing and pulling is perfectly in sync, their thrusting cocks filling my cunt and mouth as they share me.

It’s the culmination; the final phase of something that started this morning when Master C sent me a text telling me we would have a “guest” this evening. It was the fulfilment of a day spent in delicious anticipation of what would happen, what was now happening. It had been a day spent with ben-wa balls in my cunt, and clamps around my nipples, heightening my arousal, but under the strictest instructions not to come.

When Master C got home from work, I thanked Him in advance for what was to come with a blow-job. It was relaxed, unhurried and I savoured the experience of sucking Him as much as He enjoyed being sucked. My cunt was soaked with arousal and anticipation by the time I swallowed down His thick warm load.

With the balls and clamps removed, I put on the lingerie that Master C had chosen for me to wear, covering it with my favourite silk kimono.

When Geoff arrived, I was required to play the perfect hostess, serving drinks and nibbles while he and Master C made small talk that occasionally touched on the important subject of what they would do to me. My anticipation and frustration were at unbearable levels when, finally, Master C beckoned me to join them.

I was in ecstasy as I allowed them to remove my kimono. I trembled as two pairs of strong hands explored my body. My bra was removed and I found myself with a mouth around each nipple. After so much anticipation and frustration, I almost came just from that simple attention.

I allowed myself to be positioned on the edge of the sofa. Geoff positioned himself between my legs, pulled the gusset of my knickers aside and began to lick. Master C reached over from behind the sofa, kissed my neck and began to play with my nipples. As He did so He whispered instructions not to come in my ear.

Time passed…

Master C and Geoff swapped places.

More time passed; they swapped again.

Every nerve in my body screamed with the need for release, but Master C did not give me permission.

My whimpers of frustration became moans. My moans coalesced into words. “Please!” I begged, “Please let me come.”

Finally Master C relented. “You may come for us now,” he said softly. My release was immediate. The air was filled with a deep moan that was torn from my mouth as Geoff’s tongue continued to flick of my clit, as Master C’s fingers tweaked and twisted my nipples. My climax tore through me. Wave after wave of orgasmic energy shook me as my cunt and womb contracted violently.

They stopped. I felt myself being lifted from the sofa, positioned on all fours. Geoff’s cock was in front of my mouth and I felt Master C slide effortlessly into me from behind. I opened my mouth and Geoff slid his cock between my lips and, in that moment, the tables turned; instead of providing for my pleasure, they were now taking theirs from me, fucking me in their chosen hole, using me like the filthy, depraved slut that I am.

In and out, over and over, their cocks filled and refilled my cunt and throat; the intensity building with each stroke.

“Filthy slut!”

“Dirty whore!”

The words sounded like insults but were really compliments, testament to my willingness to fuck and be fucked, to be used.

Master C pulled out. “Time to give my slut what she really wants,” He said.

Geoff also stopped.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Master C enquired, “Put a condom on him and get on his dick!”

Geoff lay back and I did as I was instructed to do. I slowly lowered myself on to him, aware of those slight differences that distinguished his cock from Master C’s. As I began to slide up and down, I knew what was coming. It was no surprise when I felt the cold lube being applied to my arsehole. Master C had, of course been correct; He knew exactly what I wanted; something that I’ve been craving for so long. His fingers worked the lube into my back passage and then, slowly, He pushed His cock into me.

At this point, let me, for the record, state that I have no idea how men work out how this next bit works; all I know is that from where I’m sitting, with a cock filling each hole, it feels fucking amazing.

Master C grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled my head back roughly as He fucked me in the arse. Geoff tormented my nipples with his fingers and teeth as he fucked me in the cunt from below. Between them, I was being fucked in the most depraved and slutty way possible and I was loving every second of it.

I came hard with their cocks inside me. My release was loud, as befitting the depravity of my actions, as their cocks filled me.

The fucked me until their own climaxes became inevitable. Master C pulled out first. He commanded me to dismount and adopt a kneeling position. Geoff stood up and removed the condom. Both he and Master C stood before me, stroking their cocks. “My slut deserves a cum bath,” Master C said, “A suitably filthy ending for a filthy slut.” I closed my eyes and smiled. Two men standing over me, about to paint me with their loads was exactly what I wanted and exactly what I deserved.

Geoff came first; his cum taking me square across my forehead and down my left cheek Master C followed a few seconds later, painting the other side of my face. Their cum trickled down my face and dripped on to my boobs. As a reward, I was permitted to clean Geoff’s cock with my mouth.

Afterwards, still naked, and with their cum now dried on to my skin, I resumed my duties as hostess before Master C ate me to another shuddering climax followed by Geoff fucking me again before going home.

It goes without saying that my depraved and wanton sluttiness earned my arse a sound thrashing from Master C’s belt before the evening was finally over and we retired to bed, but the evening had been worth every kiss of the leather on my buttocks.

As Friday evenings go, I can’t think of a better way to enjoy one.

Deconstruction

This week’s “No True Way” is on the subject of being broken down:

“A submissive needs to be broken down by their dominant“

It’s a subject that I have written about before, as it is definitely something that, within my dynamic with Master C, I need and rely upon Him to do. It’s not so much the need to be broken, it’s the need to be taken apart, to release whatever negative energy is keeping me down, and then to be put back together, refreshed and renewed.

For me, pain is an essential when it comes to being “reset”. Master C, being particularly attuned to me moods and their accompanying needs, is usually very good at picking up on when such a reset is needed. Sometimes however, as I’ve previously mentioned, when I need Him to know how badly it is required, I will retreat to the cage, for Him to find me. That is my way of telling Him that there are no restraints on what I am prepared to accept: the clamps around my nipples can be tightened to the absolute maximum, He can wield whatever implement of chastisement He choses to employ as often and with as much force as He deems fit, He can yank my head back by my hair as hard and as far as it will go as He fucks me, He can choke me to the point of almost passing out. In essence, when Master C finds me in the cage, He knows that I am prepared to accept anything up to the point of me resorting to our “stop signals”.

In these circumstances, it isn’t about discipline, or punishment; I haven’t failed in some task or committed some transgression. In these instances it is all about the need for release.

In part, the preparation is as much a part of it. The blindfold so I don’t know what He is going to do. The ball-gag being put in my mouth so I can’t cry out. The clamps being tightened around my nipples. Being frog0marched over to Master C’s “workbench”, being forced roughly on to its hard wooded surface that pushes the clamps on my nipples into my boobs. It’s the harsh, rope bindings around my ankles that will chafe and burn my skin as I struggle. It’s the hook in my arse with its intricate harness that allows my hair to be bound into it, and then twisted to the required tightness. and then there is the waiting before Master C decides what He is going to do.

Often, in these circumstances, His belt will serve simply as an appetiser, a warm-up; turning the cheeks of my arse a rosy red as each lash lands. He will return to my arse later, but next He will remove the ball from my mouth and fuck my face, squeezing my neck with His strong hands as His cock roughly pounds my throat.

He comes, coating my face with a thick load of cum, then picks up the cane.

It swooshes menacingly through the air as it traces an arc towards my backside. It hurts, so much more than the belt does, and so much more because the belt has already done its work.

A twist of the hook harness pulls my hair tighter, pulling my head back further. The rope burns against my ankles.

By the time Master C is finally inside me, fucking me hard from behind while pulling my arms toughly back behind me, I will have been thoroughly beaten and used. If I’m lucky, as His cock takes me, I will have slipped into that almost transcendental state of sub-space, that dissociated almost out of body state of calm, where I can almost observe what is being don to me.

I know that, whatever happens, Master C will ensure that I will begiven the release of climax before He comes again, either in my cunt or over my back.

First my orgasm, and then His, is were the restoration commences. It continues as He unbinds me. It continues as He takes me in His arms, wipes away my tears, strokes my hair. It continues as He gentle massages the soothing balm into my skin, relieving some of the burning from where the cane bit. It continues as He makes me comfortable, and pours me a glass of wine. It continues because Master C is there, He is with me, and I am His.

There are times when the need to be broken like this is fundamental; it goes right to the core of my being. Each time, however, from the ashes I am reborn. I am refreshed and rebuilt. It is one of the greatest gifts that being Master C’s submissive gives me, and one that He gives with such care.

The long and the short of it

I’ve mentioned before that blow-jobs are hugely adaptable; there is literally a blow-job for every occasion. Fast and rough, long and slow; as an appetiser, the main course or as an aperitif, there is a blow-job for that.

As always, the type of blow-job will depend on circumstances: your level of randiness, where you are and who you are with will go a long way to determining how that cock is going to get sucked. Make no mistake about it though, when I’m sucking a cock, as much as I am doing for the benefit of the recipient, I am taking great pleasure from it for myself.

At on end of the spectrum is the rough, hard, dirty quickie. Maybe it’s with some random gut who has caught my eye in a pub, maybe I’m with Master C and one or both of us is caught up in an overwhelming rush of randiness. There will often be an outdoor element to this: a dark alley, in a park, on a beach, in the car in the supermarket car park. Alternatively we may be at a party or some other kind of reception and I and the person I’m with have snuck away for a few minutes. The common theme is that there is an element of risk that we could be disturbed/caught in the act. As much as I love to luxuriate in the act of sucking cock, taking time to utilise my full range of talents and skills so that we both extract as much pleasure as we can from the experience, in these situations speed is very much of the essence. Almost as soon as the urge materialises, a (relatively) safe location is found, I am on my knees, and that cock is in my mouth.

In these instances, it is very much a sprint; there is no time for dilly-dallying, all eyes are on the prize and the prize is a thick, warm load of cum in my mouth in the least amount of time possible. There is no time for finesse, no protracted teasing or trying to make the moment last; I am sucking hard on that cock while they often have their fingers in my hair as they thrust between my lips. There is an urgency that arises in part from the initial need and desire and from the proximity to other people, people who could intrude on us at any moment. That urgency serves to increase the intensity of the experience, driving both us us towards that inevitable moment of release; that moment when the dam bursts, the cock that I am sucking erupts, rewarding me with a mouthful of that rich, manly essence.

I savour briefly, then swallow as he tucks himself away. I straighten myself up and then, depending on circumstance, we either rejoin the occasion, or we part and go our separate ways into the night.

At the other extreme, there are the slow and leisurely blow-jobs; the ones I want to wallow and luxuriate in as I give the recipient as much pleasure as they can take over a prolonged period.

An example will be in the evening, when Master C is tired after a long and stressful day at work. As He sits back on the sofa, I’ll bring Him a beer or a glass of wine. I’ll make sure He is comfortable, then kneel between His legs, release His cock from its confinement, bring Him to a state of full harness with my fingers, lips and tongue before getting down to business.

Now there are no time constraints, no fears of interruption; it’s about me using my mouth to give Him the greatest pleasure. It’s a time where I let myself be guided by His responses, the sighs and moans, the involuntary muscle spasms and twitches of His cock. I can speed up and slow down. I get to suck, lick, kiss, caress. I want Master C to enjoy this and, knowing that He is, I enjoy doing it even more.

Long experience means I can read Master C’s responses very bit as well as He can read mine. I can measure His state of arousal through the deepness of His breathing, the timbre of His moans, the twitching and swelling of His cock, the long, drawn out sighs accompanied by shudders as take advantage of His increasing sensitivity.

Whereas in the first scenario, it’s all about getting o the finish as quickly as possible, this time it’s about drawing it out for as long as I can. In the earlier scenario it is over in a matter of minutes, here it ma take half an hour or longer.

The end result in both instances is, however, exactly the same; I am rewarded for my attentions with a lovely thick load of rich, warm cum, which every cock-sucker happily accepts as recognition of a job well done.

So which do I prefer? Well, because I derive so much pleasure from serving Master C, the protracted, drawn out version definitely comes out on top. That said, the cock hungry, cum loving slut that I am, does enjoy the quick and dirty version too.

I guess, really, so long as I have a cock in my mouth and I get rewarded with a thick load of cum to swallow down, I’m ultimately going to be happy in every case.

A moment in time

I was absolutely delighted to see that Quote Quest was returning today. The prompts that LSB sets always make me think and the one chosen to relaunch the meme was no exception:

“Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment, until it becomes a memory.”

― Dr. Seuss

Now, I’m not going to lie, my take on this prompt is tenuous if not downright tangential, but it’s all about interpretation, right?

It starts, as it so often does, with me restrained, blindfolded, with clamps fixed tightly to my nipples. I am utterly at Master C’s mercy; He is free to do whatever He pleases and I have no way of knowing what He will do next.

What happens is, that Master C spends ages using a variety of toys, His fingers, His tongue to take me to the very brink of orgasm and then hold me there for what seems like an eternity.

That is the “moment” that this post is about.

Master C knows my body. He knows its responses. He knows my levels of endurance. He knows exactly how much suffering juxtaposed with pleasure I can take..

The build up is slow, unhurried. The vibrating head of my wand is placed against my clit for a few seconds. Fingers twist inside my cunt as Master C nibbles, licks and sucks on my clit. The clamps around my nipples are tightened. A cold, smooth glass plug forces my arse open.

Each action is deliberate, measured, calculated. Each stroke, flick, kiss, lick is performed to amplify the feelings I’m experiencing, driving me further along the path towards the precipice.

A pause. Agonising seconds of stillness before He resumes His attentions.

Master C’s tongue flicks over my clit. Fast, then slow, then slower, then rapid. The pressure of His tongue changes, increasing and decreasing. There is no correlation between pace and pressure; He uses His tongue with a long-practised ease to keep me off balance.

He studies my breathing, takes note of the subtle changes of flavour on His tongue as He licks me. Fingers coated with my juices are forced into my mouth as the vibrator’s tip replaces His tongue.

Closer, ever close He pushes me. My eyes are screwed tightly shut beneath the blindfold; lights flash and burn behind my eyelids. My clit throbs. Tremors run up through my cunt to grip my womb.

I reach the precipice. I hover on the edge of the abyss. Master C holds me there.

This is the moment; the moment that feels like eternity, the moment where time loses all meaning. I no longer have any control over my responses; that control belongs entirely to Master C. My body has become a finely tuned instrument for Him to play with an effortless virtuosity.

Fingers, lips, tongue; kisses, caresses, licks and flicks; advances and retreats. My body responds; a reaction to His every action. A reaction but never the final one of release.

Pressure builds, sinews scream, nerves aflame, my consciousness detaches and I almost seem to see myself lying there, helpless to do anything but endure and enjoy what is being done to my body.

Time slows in a kind of dilation of sexual relativity. The time between each breath, each heartbeat, each flick of His tongue becomes immeasurable, meaningless in that eternal now.

The dissociation becomes complete. I can no longer feel my body, I simply feel the flows of sexual energy and tension. And still the release of orgasm is denied me.

This is the moment. I am truly on the brink. I can endure no more. With the slightest touch I will be undone. The next flick of Master C’s tongue on my clit, the next thrust and twist of His fingers inside my cunt will be the spark that ignites me. I exist in that timeless void between breaths, between heartbeats between one stroke of His tongue and the next.

In that heightened state I can feel each minute movement as His tongue moves, micron by micron towards the spot where it will release me. So close, so close, and then…

An explosion of light accompanied by a cry of relief. My back attempts to arch up off the bed but restraints hold me in place. Feeling returns with an intensity that tears flood from my eyes. Spasms convulse, the pent up pressure erupts out in one uncontrolled wave. My consciousness reconnects with my physical self, as my brain struggles to reconnect the fragments of the experience and connect them into something resembling a coherent sequence of causes and effects.

Control slowly returns. Master C releases me and comforts me. I am relaxed, I am satisfied, I am made whole again. The time spent on the edge, those moments before release become memories. The intensity of my climax and the blissful joy that now envelopes me is their value, and that value is priceless.

Let’s fuck

It will come as no surprise to anyone when I say that I absolutely love fucking and being fucked. It doesn’t matter where or when, I love it. In bed, on the sofa, on the floor, over the kitchen counter, in the car, upstairs, downstairs, indoors, outdoors, my mouth, my cunt, my arse, it doesn’t matter; if it’s fucking then I’m all for it. It is the ultimate expression of me as a sexual being; using my body and having my body used for the most basic, primal gratification of one of humanity’s deepest and strongest urges.

But what do I mean by “fucking”?

Obviously, when Master C, or “The Other Guy”, or possibly some random acquaintance has their cock in my mouth, or my cunt, or my arse, and is thrusting away with carefree, wanton abandon, they are fucking me and I am being fucked. Specifically, my mouth/throat is being fucked, my cunt is being fucked, my arse is being fucked. But fucking isn’t just me having a penis in one (or more) of my orifices; it is something much deeper.

To me, fucking doesn’t even need to involve a penis and it doesn’t even need to involve penetration. “The Girl” and I fuck using just our fingers, hands, lips and tongues. Yes, we may finger-fuck each other, but that is secondary; we were fucking even before fingers ended up inside each other’s cunts.

Fucking, to me, involves the whole range of sexual activity, both penetrative and non-penetrative. It is sex where nothing is held back. It is sex where the participants are fully engaged in whatever they are doing to each other and whatever is being done to them. It is the unrestrained release required to fulfil a deep need. It’s not just about my mouth or my cunt or my arse; those are simply the bits of me that are most actively and directly involved. In away, it is probably being more accurate to say I am being fucked in my arse or in my cunt rather than to say I am having my throat/cunt/arse fucked because it is me that is being fucked, those are simply the means by which I am being fucked.

And that, for me, is the crux of it; I am being fucked. It’s not just a particular hole, it is all of me; it is my body, my mind and my soul. When Master C or “The Other Guy” has their cock in my arse or my cunt, they are using that hole to fuck me; they have simply chosen to fuck me in a particular way.

I realise that this is not one of my more coherent posts; you’d be excused for thinking it was simply an exercise in seeing how many times I can use the words “fuck”, “fucked” and “fucking” in the same post. I’m trying to put an intense set of feelings and emotions into words, and language is such an imperfect medium; some things simply have to be experienced, and for me, nothing beats the experience of a long, hard, uninhibited fuck that satisfies the body and the soul.