Two words


“Bend over!”

I’ll admit, as foreplay goes, it’s not exactly extensive, but sometimes it’s all I need.

I don’t think there is any other combination of two words that can have more of an effect on me. Said in the right tone, and with the right degree of forcefulness, they can reduce me to a quivering mess of anticipation. No other two words will make my cunt instantly wet.

And as I comply with His demand I bite my lip as I wait for Master C to flip my skirt up over my arse, or pull my jeans down around my ankles, and yank my knickers out of His way.

With my arse exposed, I wonder what Master C has planned for me; is He just going to fuck me, does He plan to spank me, or will wield His belt?

In fairness, it doesn’t matter what His intentions are, I am ready; I want whatever Master C decides. As every second passes, the anticipation mounts, and my cunt grows hotter and wetter.

A hand slips between my legs, feeling how wet I am, how ready I am for Him. A shiver of excitement runs through me, my clit throbs slightly in response to His touch.

I want His cock inside me, filling me, pounding me, fucking me hard. I want Master C to take me, to use me, to cum deep inside of me. I don’t just want it, I need it. My whole body aches for Him.

Master C grabs a handful of my hair. He pulls my head back. Will it be His belt, or His cock? I still don’t know.

“Are you ready?” He asks.

“Yes!” I sob.

I brace myself for whatever is about to come next.

Sometimes “Bend over!” is all the foreplay I need.

#KinkOfTheWeek
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Verge


It’s those final moments. Bound, helpless, vulnerable. Completely at His mercy.

He looks at you like a predator contemplates its prey.

You are naked, more than naked; your soul is bared to Him as you endure the intense scrutiny of His gaze.

His hunger is palpable; you can feel it in eyes as they feast on you, devouring you where you lie.

Anticipation builds inside you.

Whatever He chooses, you are helpless to resist.

The clock ticks, seconds pass, each one an eternity as you wait.

You sigh as He traces the contours of your spine with a finger.

You wince as you hear the snap of His belt.

You melt as you hear the words you have been waiting for: “Are you ready, little one?”

“Yes Master,” you reply, and you brace yourself, waiting for the first kiss of His leather on your skin…

#MasturbationMonday

The joys of sext


Now, I accept that sexting has come in for a lot of bad press. Mostly due to people (generally young girls, but not always) taking nude or sexually explicit photographs of themselves for the benefit of a partner, only to have these photos wind up on the internet through a breach of trust on the part of the recipient. Fortunately, I have never been on the receiving end of so-called “revenge porn” but I know people who have and, to say that it is not nice, is a gross understatement.

But sexting isn’t all bad; far from it. Used in a responsible way, it can be a deeply erotic and highly extended form of foreplay.

Take the following scenario for example. Master C was recently in London. Because I had been in meetings with clients most of the day, my phone has been turned off for the majority of it. Every time I switched my phone back on, there has been a flood of highly salacious and very distracting texts from Him.

Some were simply one word, eg:

Slut!

Others were much, much more explicit, eg:

I’m going to thrash your slutty little arse and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit down or walk straight.

I must confess that that one was a particular favourite; it definitely got me more than just a wee bit moist.

To be fair, the texts started not long after Master C left the house at half past four that particular morning; and they continued at irregular intervals through the day. Some mildly suggestive, some highly explicit, some telling me that I should be doing certain particular things like fingering my cunt before my next my next client meeting, or removing my knickers and making sure that someone, be it a client, a colleague, or a random passer-by gets to have a flash of my cunt. Some have simply been general enquiries about how my day has been going.

The whole point of it though, was to turn me on; to get me so frustrated and worked up that when by the time Master C got home, my cunt was soaked and I was absolutely desperate for Him to fuck me, or indeed, do whatever the fuck He wanted to me. Whether or not Master C actually did some, any, or all of the things He told me He would do to me is irrelevant; it was simply all about heightening my arousal, building my anticipation, putting me in the mood.

Master C knows exactly the effect that a message like:

I’m going to bend you over the arm of the sofa, thrash you with my belt then pound the fuck out of your cunt and arse!

will have on me, or that:

I’m going to choke you with my cock!

will have me instantly wanting to find the quiet seclusion of a toilet cubicle somewhere so I can frig myself into orgasmic oblivion.

But that, you see, is the only real rule to our little game; namely that no matter how aroused, how frustrated, how desperate for the release of orgasm I may be, unless I am explicitly commanded to do so by Master C, I am not allowed to do anything about it; I must endure and suffer until I am in His presence again, and He can then use me, or not, as He so desires.

Normally what happens at this point is a short, sharp, frustration driven fuck that has us both cumming before we’ve even got each other’s clothes off. The intensity is overpowering. There is no need for any further foreplay. It is simply a fuck of animal like passion, each of us finally being allowed to give in to the frustrated arousal and use the other for almost instant relief and gratification.

After that, things will settle down. There will be kissing and hugging, teasing, licking and sucking, and almost definitely a whole lot more fucking before the evening is over.

Of course, sometimes, having been up so early, and getting home so late, Master C is too tired. If I have been an obedient slut during the course of the day, and done everything that He has demanded of me, Master C may allow me to cum for Him and, if I’m particularly lucky and have been an exceptionally good and obedient little slut, He may also let me suck His cock.

If I haven’t behaved to His satisfaction. I may end up going to bed even more frustrated with nothing more to show for my efforts than a very hot, red, stinging arse.

However, assuming Mater C decides to relent and give me what I hoped He’d give me; when the dust settles and we collapse in a sweaty, post orgasmic heap, all of that will have stemmed from me sending him a simple:

Hope you have a good trip xx

Yes, when done safely and responsibly, sexting can definitely be a lot of fun.

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday

The BIG reveal


It’s the final stop on the journey. The final revelation.

It’s those final moments before you reveal yourself fully.

It’s the anticipation you feel as you prepare to surrender to your partner’s scrutiny.

It’s the thrill you feel as you peel off your knickers and expose yourself fully to your lover.

It’s the excitement as you prepare to open up for him, to feel his tongue on you, or his cock in you.

It’s the big reveal…