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.

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Earning punishment


I’m on my knees. The clamps around my nipples dig in with a delicious level of pain. The dildo in my cunt stretches and fills me. “The Other Guy’s” cock pounds and pummels my arsehole.

I’m tired, but in a good way. I’ve lost count of the orgasms “The Other Guy” has inflicted upon me today. His cock has given my cunt several thorough poundings today. I’ve wrapped my lips around his cock and taken him into my throat more times than I care to count. I’ve tasted myself on those wonderful inches of firm flesh and had taken loads of cum from him in my mouth. His fingers and his tongue have taken it in turns to drive me to and beyond the brink many times during the course of the day we have enjoyed together. I’ve been teased and pleasured, licked, fingered and fucked. I’ve had orgasms denied, and orgasms permitted. My jaw aches, my throat is raw, my cunt is tender and now my arse is being used.

My whole body feels used and I love that feeling. Sex with “The Other Guy” is almost always primal; I provide a release for his carnal needs. He uses my body, uses my holes; my mouth, my cunt, my arse, for his pleasure and, in doing so, gives me so much in return.

When I return home to Master C, I will recount the events of this day. I will tell Master C how I sucked “The Other Guy’s” cock, how I swallowed his cum, how he licked me and fucked me and how much I loved having his cock between my lips and in my throat, in my cunt and in my arse. I will confess every detail knowing the punishment I will need to endure, aware of the acts of contrition I will be required to perform to earn Master C’s forgiveness; to earn the right to be called his “good girl” once more.

That is in the future. I will endure it and accept it and enjoy it when the time for me to make atonement to my Master for my transgressions is upon me. For now, however, I will enjoy one last fuck before I return home.

Having fed me so many loads already, “The Other Guy” informed me that he needed the extra tightness of my arse if he was to squeeze one last load out of his tired but happy cock. The dutiful slut that I am, I was happy to oblige.

“The Other Guy’s” cock pounds my back passage. He yanks my head back with a handful of hair as he fucks me. Soon it will be over. Soon I will return home and earn the discipline I deserve for such wanton sluttishness, but for now I’m just enjoying the feeling of having The Other Guy fuck me one more time.

His breathing is laboured, but his strokes are firm and powerful. His body slams into mine again and again. I finger my clit as The Other Guy fucks me, feeling one final climax grow inside me.

A moan, and suddenly I feel empty. “Turn around!” he commands.

I do as I’m bid. The Other Guy removes the condom and strokes his cock with a rapid, jerking motion. His hand blurs. “Come for me,” I encourage, “Come all over my boobs. I love feeling your cum on my skin.”

A long, low moan escapes from “The Other Guy’s” throat. It grows to a growl and ends with a gasp as he reaches the point of climax. Hi cum lands on my skin.

I lie back. “The Other Guy’s” face is between my thighs. His hands rub his cum into my skin as he feasts on my cunt. It doesn’t take much; a few firm strokes of his tongue is all that is needed to push me over the edge one last time.

Having ridden out my climax, we shower then dress. I have a quick coffee before I head to my car. I send Master C a text, “I’ve been a bad girl, again,” is all that it says. I turn the key in the ignition, pull out of “The Other Guy’s” drive and, with a smile on my face and a sense of anticipation building inside me, I drive home to accept my thoroughly deserved correction.

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Thrashed


So, as expected, Master C punished me thoroughly for my escapades with “The Other Guy”. I won’t bore you with the details of how the appropriate level of discipline was negotiated, but the result ended up being as follows:

I am bent over Master C’s “workbench” and He ties me firmly, securely in place. The ropes cut tightly into my wrists, my ankles and across my back.

My boobs are  pressed against the cold, hard, unyielding wooden surface, forcing the clamps around my nipples into their skin. It hurts with a delicious intensity.

Cold lube is dribbled over my arsehole. With one, then two fingers, Master C roughly opens me up, stretching my tight, tender rear entrance. Fingers withdrawn, I feel the cold plastic of a dildo being pushed firmly into place; holding me open for what will come later.

“Are you ready?” Master C asks, his voice oddly tender and concerned.

“Yes Master,” I reply, “I am ready.”

I wait. Seconds pass. Anticipation grows inside me. My cunt grows wet as I await the first kiss of His belt.

A finger runs between my lower lips. I feel my juices flow.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Master,” I admit.

“You’re a nasty little slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Master.” Again I can’t deny the accusation.

“What are you?”

“I’m a nasty little slut, Master.”

“And what happens to nasty little sluts?”

“They get thrashed, Master.”

“Yes they do. Yes they do.”

More time passes. The anticipation continues to build. Master C forces his finger into my warm, wet cunt.

“Are you going to thrash me, Master?”

“Yes I am, my little slut.”

“Will you thrash me hard, Master?”

“Yes I will, my little slut.”

“I deserve to be thrashed hard, Master.”

“Yes you do, my lovely, filthy little slut.”

His finger slides from my cunt and is forced into my mouth. I love the way I taste on His finger.

I hear the crack as Master C flexes His belt. I close my eyes, waiting to feel its first biting kiss.

Swoosh, SLAP! It cuts into my skin. I hold back a cry, pretending to be brave.

Swoosh, SLAP! Again it bites. Tears begin to well in my eyes. My face begins to redden, to match the hot, stinging glow that my arse is beginning to display.

Swoosh, SLAP! Another caress of leather. A small sob escapes from between my lips. My tears begin to flow.

Swoosh, SLAP! I want to cry, but I need to be brave for my Master. I need to show Him I can take my punishment.

Swoosh, SLAP! I can’t hold back. I cry out as the pain intensifies. My tears feel like burning rain against my cheeks.

Swoosh, SLAP! “Oh Master!” I cry, “P… Punish me, M… Master! Punish your filthy s… slut!”

Master C shows no mercy. His belt rains down on me again and again. The pain is so strong I can no longer feel the clamps around my nipples, digging into my boobs.

And then it stops.

The dildo is pulled from my arse, only to be replace by Master C‘s lovely thick cock.

His hand grabs my hair. He pulls my head sharply back as He fucks my arse.

As his cock pounds me, Master C slaps my arse cheeks with his free hand, never letting the pain subside. He tightens His grip on my hair, pulling it harder.

“Filthy slut!” He moans; His words punctuating the long, hard, punishing thrusts of His beautiful cock, “Filthy, little, dirty slut!”

His free hand moves around me to tease my clit as Master C pummels my arse relentlessly with His cock. Despite the pain, despite the agonising intensity of this treatment, I come almost immediately.

“Oh… Oh M.. Master! Oh thank you, Master!” I sob as my orgasm rips through me.

Master C releases my hair. His cock slips from my arsehole. Seconds pass until I feel the warm wetness of His cum splash over the burning cheeks of my bum.

It feels so good. It feels so dirty. It reignites my climax, pushing me beyond the brink of my endurance.

Master C unties me, picks me up and carries me over to the bed. I hear the crack of a bottle lid. The familiar scent of aloe, and the coolness of gel as He begins to spread it into my burning skin.

Suffice to say, I was squirming in my seat as I wrote the above; partially because my arse still hurts, but mostly because writing that has made me hot in places well under the collar.

If you’ll excuse me, I think I need to go and do something about my current worked up state…

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Getting up to mischief


mischief / (ˈmɪstʃɪf) /
noun

  1. wayward but not malicious behaviour, usually of children, that causes trouble, irritation, etc
  2. a playful inclination to behave in this way or to tease or disturb
  3. injury or harm caused by a person or thing
  4. a person, esp. a child, who is mischievous
  5. a source of trouble, difficulty, etc. e.g. floods are a great mischief to the farmer

As a child, I was definitely what was known as “a mischief“. In fact, I was “a right, proper wee mischief“. It wasn’t that I was bad or especially naughty, I just had a penchant for doing things that my elders didn’t always approve of. The “Oh Morag! We’re not angry, just disappointed…” thing, said in a weary, resigned tone whenever my misdeeds were found out, was a near constant refrain growing up. I was never one of those genteel, girly girls; I was very much the tomboy and tearaway; preferring to muck about with the boys than be one of the girls.

Of course, mucking about with the boys took on a slightly different meaning when I moved into my teens, but that just simply added to the opportunities for mischief and, very often, that mischief felt very good. I might allow a boy who done something particularly nice for me to feel my boobs or I might stroke their cock through their jeans, marvelling at how that made it stiffen. Later of course, I would move on to stroking their cocks under their boxers and letting myself get fingered. The mischief stakes were frequently being upped. Eventually I would have my first orgasm at the hands of another person, give my first blow-job, discarded my virginity and get my arse fucked. All of these things were just a natural progression as I experimented with the naughty things I was discovering that I liked doing.

My student years introduced me to threesomes and group sex and I was already dabbling with kink, although, at that stage, I didn’t consider myself to be submissive, I just knew I liked toys, occasional restraining, and getting my backside tanned every now and then.

Over the years, my tendency towards mischief has, if anything, only grown stronger as I’ve got older. This, I suspect, is largely because my relationship with Master C has given me a framework within which I can be my mischievous self so long as I am aware of the consequences of my actions and know there is a price to pay. As such, if I’m on a night out and see someone I fancy, so long as I am willing to accept that any dalliance with that person will result in a thrashing from Master C’s belt, the number of lashes to be determined depending on what form the dalliance takes, then I am free to lick/stroke/suck/fuck whomever I feel inclined to do so.

Of course, there is also the fact that I enjoy receiving Master C’s discipline/physical chastisement and my inner brat is always pushing limits and looking for ways to be on the receiving end of some much needed correction.

As the saying goes, I’m not really a very naughty person, I’m just a person who really enjoys doing some very naughty things, and I really enjoy the consequences that arise from them.

Am I a brat? Yes, without question.

Am I a right, proper wee mischief? Definitely (well, maybe not quite so “wee” any more), and I hope I always am…

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The multi-purpose arse


I quite like my arse. It’s not in bad shape, I don’t have too much cellulite, and it gives me something comfy to sit on.

Master C loves my arse. It has, according to Him, the perfect consistency for squeezing, and He does that at every opportunity.

I also love all the other things Master C does to my arse. From the way He grabs it, particularly in public; a gratuitous display of affection, to the way He spanks it with me bent over his knee. From the way He abuses it with His belt or cane or lash; leaving stinging red welts that make it painful to sit afterwards, to the way He fucks it; hard, rough and without mercy.

My arse is frequently used and abused. It faces regular spankings, paddlings and thrashings when I transgress against Master C’s discipline. It gets fucked regularly as Master C uses me as His filthy little slut. “The Other Guy” also has a penchant for giving my arse a thorough pounding with his cock, and Master C often invites other members of our “sharing circle” to spank, thrash and/or fuck it.

There is something about the coarseness of good, hard, harsh buggering that ticks so many of my “fuck yeah!” boxes. It makes me feel used, it can be deliciously degrading when accompanied with appropriately degrading language, slaps and hair pulling, it confirms my position as Master C’s filthy slut.

But, for all that I love having my arse used and abused, I also love that gets squeezed and caressed by Master C in frequent spontaneous displays of affection.

Arses are extremely versatile, and are certainly not just for sitting on.

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Theory & practice


Growing up on a farm, I learned at quite an early age that when “daddy cow” climbed on “mummy cow’s” back it would, ultimately, result in the arrival of “baby cow”. I also learned that the same thing went for other species as well; the reason there were baby animals was because at some point the male animal did something to the female animal. Having put two and two together, I remember coming to the conclusion that something similar must have occurred between my parents that resulted in me and I remember asking my mum something along the lines of “Did Daddy have to climb on you to make me?” and being delighted that I was right when my mum confirmed this with a very simple, but affirmative “Yes dear, something like that.”

So I had the theory of mammalian reproduction understood at a very basic level but, of course, I didn’t really know about sex, or the fact that the majority (or in my case and that of many others, the entirety) of sexual activity has nothing to do with reproduction.

Skip forward a few years to my first year in secondary school, age 12. If you are Scottish and of a certain age demographic, you will remember the big red Scottish Secondary Science Book and you will almost certainly remember chapter 6.6 with its outline drawings of the male and female reproductive parts. Again, we were taught about the mechanics of sex and the reproduction; about erections for boys and periods for girls; and that was really about as far as it went. I’m not, I hasten to add, being dismissive of trans-gendered people here, I am simply recounting the classroom language that was used; i.e. that sexual intercourse involved the man putting his penis in the woman’s vagina and moving it in and out until the man ejaculated inside the woman. Again it was the theory.

Of course, around about this time, I’d also started getting interested in boys and, of course, boys meant snogging. Being a fairly early developer, snogging also meant that boys attempted some awkward groping and, even in those days where such things were “top half only”, that hands on top of clothes progressed to hands under clothes. That’s where things started to get interesting.

I discovered that I liked getting my boobs touched I also discovered that when I was enjoying getting my boobs touched, I also got quite moist between my legs. I soon discovered that I didn’t need someone else touching my boobs for this to happen, I could do it to myself and, when I ultimately reached down to examine more closely what the effects of my boob play were having down there, I discovered that I definitely liked touching myself down there. Not too long after that, “The Girl” would help me discover that I really liked it when someone else touched me down there and that was where the theory began to turn into practice.

Why the sex education I got in school covered the basics of reproduction and the mechanics of penis in vagina intercourse and the fact that, if I weren’t careful, it might result in pregnancy, it didn’t go near masturbation, or oral or even hint that anal might even be a thing for anyone other than gay men. The sex education didn’t teach me about the pleasure or enjoyment associate with sex. It absolutely did not teach me anything about kink.

I was, however, fortunate that I could talk to my mother about certain aspects of sex and sexuality, but even then there were limits. I wasn’t going to tell her that I’d just sucked my boyfriend’s cock for the first time. She didn’t need to know exactly when a guy fucked me for the first time and she absolutely did not need to know about the first time I took it in the arse. What she absolutely didn’t need to know was that I’d reached this point on my sexual journey before I’d even turned 16. I could discuss masturbation, but she didn’t need to know how often I did it. I could admit that I was sexually active (although I was somewhat reticent about how long I had been), but she really didn’t need to know how may people I’d had sex with. I could admit to the fact that I felt an attraction to other women, but she absolutely did not need to know that “The Girl” (whom she had known forever) and I were more than just best mates and were “at it” whenever circumstances allowed.

The one thing that I am grateful for is the fact that the most important thing my mum taught me about sex is that it is absolutely 100% natural and that it is in no way shameful. I’m sure she probably wouldn’t have approved if she knew the full details of my sex life, but it would be from a position of concern about my safety and well-being rather than from a place of judgement.

Pretty much everything else, I’ve learned “on the job” as it were. My teenage years were kind of my “discovery years“; the years where I discovered what I liked and what worked for me, where I discovered that what worked for one partner might not elicit the same response in another. I learned how much I really loved sucking cock and I learned how numerous guys loved to have their cocks sucked. I learned how much I enjoyed having my cunt eaten out and how to eat cunt in ways that the recipient really enjoyed. I learned the positions that I liked most; I learned that sometimes my enjoyment of a position or a particular activity depended on my mood. At 18, during my university Freshers’ Week, I discovered that I enjoyed having sex with more than one person at once. During my 20s, I discovered that even though I didn’t have a “full time” partner, that I could still enjoy sex through casual arrangements.

I’d always enjoyed a rougher element to sex. From fairly early on I’d enjoyed a certain amount of restraint play, blindfolds, spanking etc. Meeting Master C and submitting to Him was what would take my exploration of kink to the levels it is at today. While I’ve never been especially good on the monogamy front, it would be Master C that would help me channel many of my promiscuous urges and redirect them into our poly circle, but also create the system of action and consequence, of responsibility and punishment that become such a central part of our particular dynamic.

And yet, for all that, I am still learning. The restrictions imposed by the Covid pandemic have meant I’ve had to come up with new ways to receive the discipline from Master C that I both crave and need so much.

If we assume that 12 year old me getting my boobs felt was the start of the practical part of my sexual education, then I’ve been learning for almost 35 years. I wonder how much CPD time I’ve managed to put in during those years?

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A penis for a day


It’s something I think about from time to time; what I would do if I had a penis for a day. It’s not that I wish I were a man; I most certainly do not. I love being a woman and, when it comes to sex, I love the fact that I have the receiving bits. I love the feeling of having my holes stuffed full of thick, hard cock, but I am fascinated by what sex feels like from a male perspective. After all, no matter how close a couple are, and how good at describing the sensations we feel, we can never actually what the other party experiences.

So, if I had a penis for a day, the first thing I’d do is spend time getting to know my new appendage; discovering what it likes, how it likes to be touched, how to prolong my pleasure.

Being no stranger to masturbation, I can, intellectually at least, understand for a guy to pleasure himself, but no matter how swollen my clit gets, rubbing it is never going to feel the same as having several inches of hard flesh that I can wrap my fingers around.

I’m pretty confident in my hand-job technique, and certainly, Master C assures me that I do a fantastic job, but I have no idea how it feels to him. Not that having a cock of my own would improve my hand-job skills per se; in the same way that knowing how my clit likes to be treated gives me no insight into what another woman likes, having a cock of my own wouldn’t tell me anything more about what Master C enjoys. It would, however, give me some insight as to how the different bits that guys have respond to stimuli.

Then there’s the male orgasm. I know what mine feels like, but what does it feel like for a guy to come? What does it feel like to have a thick load surge through them and shoot out the end? What does it feel like for him afterwards as his cock relaxes and returns to its relaxed state? I can only imagine what the differences between Master C’s climax and my own must feel like.

Then there’s sex. I know what it feels like to have a cock inside me, but what does it feel like to be inside the body of another person?

I guess, having got to know my penis, I would need to call upon one of my girl friends to discover how to use it. What does Master C feel when I wrap my lips around his cock and suck it? How would a girl’s mouth feel around my cock if I had one? What would it feel like to put my cock inside a woman, feeling the warm moisture of her cunt envelop me as I fuck her? How different does her arse feel from her cunt?

All these things are things that I know and enjoy from a woman’s perspective; sucking Master C’s cock, having him fuck me in my cunt or up my arse, but it would be fascinating, I think, to spend one day experiencing masturbation and sex the way guys experiences it, by having a cock for one day.

I could probably live quite happily without the peeing standing up, or running the risk of getting it caught in the zip of my jeans though.

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A dirty little fantasy


A little daydream; inspired, in part, by the evenings getting longer and the easing of Covid restrictions meaning nights out and meeting people become possible again, and I might just get be able to “get my slut on” again…

While out with friends, I meet a stranger in a club or bar.

We sneak out, find some dark, out of the way alleyway, and then, without any preliminaries required, we fuck. After so many months of not meeting anyone, the thrill of being with someone else is electrifying. His cock feels so good fucks me hard, in my mouth, in my cunt and in my arse.

He pulls my hair as he fucks me; calling me a filthy slut. His cock pounds me with increased urgency.

Sounds of voices and footsteps pass nearby. Have they seen us? I don’t care. All that matters is what his cock is doing to me and how it is making me feel.

I hold back a moan as I come hard, not wanting to betray our presence to anyone who may be passing. My restraint intensifies my climax. His laboured breathing tells me that his climax is approaching.

Suddenly, he pulls out, spins me a round, calls me a “dirty whore” before blowing his load over my boobs.

We straighten ourselves out, and return to the club/bar; going back to our respective groups of friends as if nothing has happened (although my top is sticking uncomfortably to my cum covered boobs).

We never tell each other our names.

When I get home, Master C thrashes me soundly for being an insatiable, filthy little slut before giving all three of my holes another rough and very thorough fucking and adding his load to that of the stranger’s on my skin.

I fall asleep; tired, sticky, a little tender and sore, but very VERY happy…

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Taken


The ball-gag fills my mouth. I am bent over Master C’s “workbench”, my ankles fastened to the legs, my hands tied behind my back, the hard surface of the bench forcing the clamps on my nipples to press into my breasts, intensifying their pain. My arse is flaming red from the stokes of His belt, six deliciously stinging lashes to each buttock. Hot tears coarse down my cheeks as Master C’s cock pounds my arsehole.

He said I needed teaching a lesson, and this is it. His body slams into mine, driving His cock deep into my back passage with every powerful, surging thrust. With my hair wrapped around one hand, Master C pulls my head sharply back as He fucks me.

“Bad girl!”

“Naughty slut!”

A stream of insults, each punctuated by a thrust oh His cock or a slap of His free hand across my burning buttocks.

It hurts. It’s meant to hurt. I want it and need it to hurt and Master C does not deprive me.

“Your arse is mine, slut! I’m taking what is mine and fucking it hard.” Somehow He manages to pull my head back even further.

Thrust after deep, powerful thrust pounds into my arse. His cock and pain from my nipple clamps are combining, bringing me to the edge.

A sharp yank of my hair brings more tears to my eyes. The thumb of His free hand presses into my cunt; my clit rubbed by the space between His thumb and forefinger.

“Do not come!” He commands. I screw my eyes shut, trying to detach myself from the combination of pain and pleasure that Master C is subjecting me to.

My arse is raw from the pounding of His cock, my buttocks feel like they are on fire, the pain in my nipples is excruciating, my scalp burns and my clit throbs. I want to cry, but no sound escapes from around the ball in my mouth. Lights flash against the insides of my eyelids.

The wonderful torture is unrelenting, I can feel myself almost slipping away. Every nerve is screaming for the release that only orgasm will provide.

“Not yet, slut! You haven’t earned it yet!”

I want to nod, but His grip on my hair prevents my head from moving. I want to say “Yes, Sir” but no words can pass around the ball in my mouth. I want to acknowledge His command in some way, to show Him I accept, but all I can do is just accept more of the blissful agony and torment.

Time loses meaning; I am on the edge of the precipice and Master C holds me there for what seems like an eternity.

My reverie is broken by a sudden sense of emptiness. His cock is gone from my back passage and is now in front of my face. I know what comes next. Hot streaks cross my face, His cum dribbles down my cheeks adding its trail to those of my tears.

“Now it’s your turn,” He says as His cum begins to dry on my skin. I hear the buzz as Master C switches on the wand. A moment’s stillness and then He presses it firmly to my clit. I endure for brief moments as its powerful vibrations return me to the precipice then cast me over the lip. My orgasm claims me and carries me away, lifting me out of myself. The tension drains from my body in one huge cataclysmic eruption.

I sense, rather than feel my restraints being undone, the gag and clamps removed, Master C lifting me and carrying me to the couch. I smile as He tenderly cleans His cum from my face; His large, strong hands so gentle as He applies and removes the cleanser from my skin. Master C props my head up with a cushion, kisses my forehead before disappearing in the direction of the kitchen. I know that when He returns He will have a mug of tea for me.

As I listen absently to the sounds in the kitchen, I lie there content at having been taken and used so thoroughly.

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Challenging misconceptions


For me, the biggest misconception around D/s and/or kink is probably a result of the 50 Shades thing. It’s the perception that it’s all about the Dominant and their needs and wants, and their ability to inflict pain on the submissive while forcing them to perform whatever sexual act the Dominant desires.

This is, of course, utter bullshit.

If it’s one thing I’ve said to the point of being blue in the face (and crimson in the arse cheeks) it’s that a D/s relationship is, first and foremost, a relationship. For it to work, there has to be trust and respect on both sides. I get how, if the only experience of D/s you have is through porn or from “literature” such as 50 Shades, you might come to the above conclusion that it’s all pain and punishment and forced sex (and, indeed, if that’s a particular couple’s dynamic, then great), but beneath it there has to be trust and respect, there has to be an understanding on the part of both the Dominant and the submissive, of the other’s needs, wants, desires, tastes and, possibly most important, their limits.

I’ve written before about how pain and discipline ground and centre me. I have written about the fact that the discipline that Master C issues allows me to grow and be a better person. I’ve written about how a thorough thrashing and (almost brutal) fucking can help restore me. All of these things are true.  Pain is kind of my thing. I use it both emotionally and sexually. Master C knows this and He uses this knowledge appropriately within our dynamic, not because He particularly wants to hurt me, but because He knows that I am open to it, enjoy it and, in many respects, need it.

There is also the misconception that it is only the Dominant’s sexual needs that are getting met. Again, this is nonsense.

Within our dynamic, Master C regularly “requires” me to suck His cock. Within our dynamic, He often decides that it is my arse that should be fucked. Within the “role-play” element of our dynamic there (if that is all someone observed), Master C orders me to suck Him, or to commands me to take it in the arse from Him but the simple truth is, I do it, and I allow Him to do it to me because I love sucking cock (any cock, but especially Master C’s) and I love getting fucked in the arse as much as I love getting fucked in the cunt, and I love getting fucked in the throat. It may be rough, it may to an outside observer look forced on occasion, but it is always consensual and always mutually satisfying. Even when Master C is denying me the release of orgasm, I know that, at some point, He will relent. Also, if I’m being completely honest, sometimes the masochist in me actually really enjoys the frustration of being left high and dry just on the brink; it’s simply another kind of satisfaction.

The final thing for me is the perception that the Dominant must always humiliate the submissive. Now, for me, humiliation is a big thing, it is something I get off on in a big way. Humiliation can take many forms. It can be the derogatory names Master C calls me when He fucks me or thrashes me. It can be when He decides to shower His cum over my face. It can be being made to stand quietly in the corner while I have to watch Master C pleasure or be pleasured by another woman. It can be the humiliation of being out in public with His cum dried on my skin.

From the outside, this may look like it’s entirely a one way thing; that Master C is getting all the benefits but the simple truth is that it is ticking so many of my boxes and Master C is only really inflicting these humiliations on me because He knows how much I enjoy them and get turned on by them and, particularly in the aftermath of public humiliations, the sex that follows will be next level fucking.

The misconception in all this is that, as the submissive, I am the one that is having things done to me and that I am an unwilling participant and simply have to endure what is being done. The reality is that I am fully onboard and absolutely ready, willing and able and I love the things Master C does to and with me.

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