Watching


The prompt for Kink of the Week has the following quote:

“Voyeurism is a beautiful and delightful thing. There is nothing more intimate than really looking at someone.”

~ Laurel Nakadate

Now, I agree with the above statement, but I also have reservations about it. To me, voyeurism has elements of both pleasure and pain and it largely depends on who I am watching and the circumstances behind it.

For the record, I am very much an exhibitionist; I love the thought that I could be observed and I knowing that people are actually watching me and getting aroused watching me is a massive turn on. That, however, is another post for another time. Let us get back to watching.

For me, there are essentially three different forms of voyeurism and the have different feelings and emotions associated with them.

The first is an what I would describe as participative voyeurism. This happens in a group sex/sex party situation. I’m either watching others fuck while I myself am being fucked, or while I am “between fucks”. In this scenario, I am part of the scene; mine is one of the writhing, pleasure filled bodies. The air is filled with the sounds and scents of people fucking and I am one of those participants making my own contribution to sensual whole. The participants combine and recombine in different pairings, triples, quadruples, or whatever combination of bodies works for the given mood.

From a point of pure hedonism, there is nothing that really comes close to this. Watching the other participants is part of the act itself. As the observer, I am both influencing and being influenced by what I see, what I hear, what I smell, what I taste. I am watching and, simultaneously, being watched; the exhibitionist and voyeur turn-on buttons are both being pressed.

The second is a slightly more passive form of the above. I’m possibly in a swingers’ club or similar. I am watching others fuck, but I am not part of that scene, merely watching others enjoying each other. The sights, sounds and scents are still there, but I am not involved. It’s like a live action porn scene, but without the exaggerated, asthmatic banshee wailing. Unlike the previous situation, I can focus my attention fully on what I am watching. Depending on how close I can be, I can observe the minute little details; the expressions on faces, the changes in breathing, the sounds of two bodies moving together. All of these things are stimulating the pleasure neurons in my brain, triggering a response in me.

I know that, at some point, I will reach a place where I can no longer watch, the need for release will become to great. At that point I will retire to another room and deal with the situation. At that point, I go from being the observer to potentially being the subject of someone else’s voyeurism as the watch me either bring myself off, get fucked by Master C, or, with His permission I fuck someone else.

The final scenario is the one that brings a juxtaposition of emotions. I am tied up, bound, helpless, and I am required to watch as another woman attends to Master C. This is such a hard one because I know what they are enjoying and I know what I’m being deprived of. The dutiful submissive in me is happy for Master C and the pleasure He is receiving, but I am torn because it should be me that is providing it. It should be me that is sucking on that wonderful cock. It should be my cunt that He is feasting on and fucking. It is me that should be receiving that lovely rich, thick load of cum. I should be the one responsible for His pleasure. In an indirect way, I also know that I am. If I’m in this scenario, I’m almost certainly being punished for something and He wouldn’t be being attended to like this if I hadn’t been guilty of some transgression. That, however, is something of a moot point.

Similarly, I am happy for the other woman because I know exactly what she is enjoying; I know the expertise with which Master C’s tongue will drive her repeatedly to orgasm, I know the mastery with which He will fuck her, I can almost feel the pleasure she is feeling, but I should actually be feeling it because all those things should be being done to and with me.

I know that afterwards, Master C will be deeply attentive and will give me what I crave, and I have that to look forward to, but in that moment, there is a delicious mixture of watching Master C fuck majestically and desolation that it isn’t me that is receiving Him.

I think, it’s fair to say, that voyeurism, for me at least, can be something of a complicated issue that ticks so many of my boxes on different levels. It is something that, on the whole, I find deeply arousing. If I had to choose, however, much as I enjoy watching others fuck, on balance, I’d much rather that I was the centre of attention and that it was me that was being watched.

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Living life fully


The teaser on Quote Quest this week is:

“You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough”

– Mae West

It is, as I’m sure anyone who reads this blog on even the most casual basis, a view that I am fully on board with. I try to apply it as much as possible in all aspects of my life.

Pre-pandemic me loved to travel (and hopefully one day that will be possible again). I love discovering new places, immersing myself in different cultures, seeing new places, trying new foods and, when inspiration files, adding new locations to the “I’ve been fucked/gave Master C a blow-job there” list. Actually, that last was pretty much a given, but there is something about being somewhere new, whether it be on the other side of the world, or just somewhere a few miles down the road that you’ve never visited before, that adds to the richness of life.

I also enjoy trying out new things, from rock climbing to scuba diving, downhill skiing to white water rafting, pedalling sedately round the village, to long tours on my trusty Kawasaki. I do, however have one rule: never jump out of a perfectly serviceable aircraft; parachute jumping is not for me.

Not surprisingly, when it comes to sex, my approach is pretty much the same.

When I split up with my cheating ex, I embarked on what could have been a very destructive path, but, in terms of my sexual personality, turned out to be very much a voyage of discovery. Even before him, I’d already discovered I enjoyed my casual encounters. I’d already participated in and enjoyed group sex activities, but in the aftermath of that break-up, I learned to fully embrace my inner slut and let her out.

Id never felt shame as to my casual fucks before, but I learned that “numbers” didn’t matter. If I wanted to fuck someone, and they wanted to fuck me, then the best thing we could do was just get on with it and fuck. If, on any given night, I found myself in a situation where I couldn’t decide between which of two guys I wanted to fuck more, I’d fuck them both; and if that happened simultaneously, so much the better.

I discovered my penchant for sex that is definitely not vanilla. The masochist in me began to bud (although it would take Master C for it to fully bloom) and I began enjoying sex that was rougher and darker than the sex I had had up until then. I would let partners restrain me more often, I would let them spank me, I would let them pull my hair and occasionally choke me. My latent submissive was being awoken and, when Master C, finally unleashed it, that was the game-changer.

Some of my partners had called me a slut in the past, but under Master C’s tutelage, I began to identify as a slut; I was His slut. Being Master C’s slut allowed me a degree of freedom that I’d never had in a relationship before; I was free to fuck whomever I so pleased so long as I was prepared to pay the price and accept the consequences of my actions.

I wasn’t just Master C’s slut, I was His submissive slut. Through my submission, I found a way to fully explore my relationship with pain and its juxtaposition with desire and pleasure and the exploration of my masochism deepened.

I would find reasons for Master C to thrash me, yearning the kiss of his belt on my buttocks. We would go out in the evening, and I would have clamps on my nipples and a plug up my arse. I would let Him choke me, almost to the point where I would lose consciousness. When His belt wasn’t enough, I would conspire to be flogged or caned instead; the lattice of deliciously painful, angry welts on my arse making me squirm in my seat days later.

And then there was our “Sharing Circle”; that close network of other likeminded D/s participants that added an extra element; whether it be in participating in group activities, or allowing me to explore my humiliation/degradation fetish. There is something about to kneel, naked and bound in the corner of a room watching your Master and several others giving pleasure to another woman while being told you aren’t worthy of their attention, then, to add further insult, have that woman thrash you on their bequest, as they call you a worthless slut, before she “services” them again, before finally, at the invitation of Master C, some of the men shoot their cum all over you, that just does something to me. The pain of being rejected, the jealousy of seeing another woman get to enjoy my Master, seeing her enjoy the attentions of several men while I get nothing but insults, the humiliation of being treated with contempt; they all combine into something that, for me, is so deeply arousing that makes the fucking I will eventually receive from Master B later, when we are on our own, when He rewards me and calls me His “good girl” so much more intensely satisfying than it would other wise have been.

So, yes, for me, a big part of living a full life is that I get to be the masochistic submissive slut who loves to be humiliated and fucked every which way she can. I’ve enjoyed it so far and I hope that I continue to live it fully for a long time to come.

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Fantasies


Content Warning: Sexual Violence (Consensual)

Inspired by the 6 Nations, a few years back, I wrote about a Changing Room fantasy where I’m bound and helpless and the local rugby team get to have their way with me. Essentially, I get well and truly fucked in every hole, get cum splattered all over me, and then, with the absolute minimum of cleaning up afterwards, I have to join them in the club bar where they all talk very loudly about what they did and how I took it.

The key elements of this story are:

  • restraint/helplessness
  • being used by multiple men
  • having numerous loads of cum shot on my face/boobs/arse/skim
  • public humiliation

The truth is, while the setting and the premise may vary, the above is pretty much a recurring theme of my fantasies. They almost invariably involve me being tied up, naked in some semi-public location where there is an invitation for any who find me to use me as they please.

It could be the changing room as described above, it could be me bound and helpless in a hotel room, where the door has been deliberately wedged open, it could be me bound over a style or a gate on a country footpath or, in some sort of public stocks, being punished for my wanton behaviour by the good citizens, and my punishment is to endure their wanton behaviour.

Wherever the fantasy is located, I am always naked, always restrained, always helpless to resist and there is always the “invitation” for whoever encounters me to use me in whatever way they see fit.

What follows is an indeterminant number of people, both men and women, doing what they want. Fucking my mouth, fucking my cunt, fucking my arse, whipping me, thrashing me, my cunt is fingered, licked, fucked with numerous implements/toys and I simply have to “endure” it.

Usually, but not always, the men choose to punish me by denying me the satisfaction of having their cum released inside me; they shoot their loads on my skin, their cum sticks to my face, drips down my boobs, coats my buttocks. By the time I am finally released, every hole has been fucked countless times and I am a mess of dried on cum.

As if the humiliation of the public sexual torture and cum-soakings weren’t enough, there is always some sort of “walk of shame” element, where my slutiness is displayed for all to see. Those who have fucked me, feign outrage at my deplorable wantonness while congratulating themselves on how they used me, both individually and collectively.

The final act in my fantasy is the redemptive element. The overseer of my punishment/public humiliation (almost always some fictionalised version of Master C or “The Other Guy”) fucks me, rewards me with their cum in my cunt or mouth and tells me that despite being a filthy slut, they are proud of how I stoically took my punishment, how I held my head high, proudly, despite the humiliation, how I have proved myself to be worthy.

It’s probably fair to say that my fantasies are born somewhere within the darker side of my subconscious that I wrote about recently. I can’t deny there is a roughness bordering on violence about them that I suspect some may find disturbing. The thing is though, when my mind goes down these particular paths, the intensity of the orgasms that such mental images help to produce is something else altogether and I’m left feeling as drained as if the scenes playing out in my mind had actually happened.

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Protocols


I touched on “protocols” in my last post, but then I came across this quote on the No True Way site:

“Protocol means different things to different people but everyone can agree that a lot, if not all of it, has to do with respect.”

Within the relationship Master C and I share, there are certain things that we do. I wouldn’t call them rules as such, it’s just the accepted way that our relationship works. In my last post, I mentioned how we both communicate our wants, needs and desires, which is an important part of how we “work”. There are, however, other aspects to it as well.

I have made countless references to the fact that our relationship is non-monogamous. We have our sharing circle, with whom we have absolute freedom to do what we please with whomever we please, so long as they are also happy to participate. We can share as a couple, or as individuals with other couples, or individuals within the circle, in whatever combination of participants there happen to be. Outside of this, I have “The Other Guy” and “The Girl” (the latter with whom Master C  also enjoys sharing with on occasion). Sexual sharings within the circle are, by and large, “consequence free” in so much as I do not have to submit to any form of discipline should such a sharing happen and I freely admit to it. I am, however, free to perform an act of “contrition” should I have any pangs of guilt about these encounters; and you might be amazed at just how contrite I can contrive to be if it means getting to wrap my lips around Master C’s lovely cock, but I digress.

However, it is accepted that I am, quite irredeemably, an insatiable, cock hungry slut. Rather than suppress my urges, I am allowed to indulge them so long as I both freely confess my transgressions, and freely accept whatever Master C decides is the appropriate punishment for them.  And this is where the trust comes in. Master C trusts me to confess to these encounters and to be able to describe them in the most minute detail to allow Him to determine the appropriate degree of chastisement. I, on the other hand, put my trust in Him to deliver the punishment I deserve for whatever transgression I have committed.

As a general rule, giving some random guy a blow-job will earn me a spanking; fucking him will earn me the belt. Wherever possible, I try to earn the belt but sometimes I just can’t help myself and have to accept that I’m only going to get a spanking.

In those seemingly long-ago, pre-Covid days, the most severe punishment was a form or ritual humiliation in front of other members of the sharing circle. Sometimes I wold have to endure having to watch Master C getting His lovely cock sucked by one (or more) of the other women in the circle as I sat, naked and bound, unable to participate. On other occasions, I would have to serve the men of the circle; sucking their cocks, being spanked, being fucked only for them to empty their loads of cum over me rather than in my mouth.

Of course, sometimes I was part of the punishment; some other disobedient submissive had to sit and watch me attend to their Dominant, unable to do anything more than watch as I earned the reward for my attentions in front of their eyes.

Ultimately, however, in all of these situations, it all boils down to trust; trust between each of the D/s couplings and the strength of their relationship, and trust between the participants in any given scenario that the rules and protocols of what goes on between members of the circle will be respected.

And that is the other key word, “respect”, and I truly believe that trust and respect in these situations are inextricably linked and that one cannot exist without the other.

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Getting to the bottom of things


Yes, this is a post about anal sex. Now, I think it’s fair to say that women generally fall into one of three camps when it comes to anal sex:

  • Those that have never tried it.
  • Those who have tried it and don’t like it.
  • Those who have tried it and enjoy it.

I am thoroughly in the third group. The reason for this being that I’m fortunate to have a partner who knows how to do it right. Having said that, It may come as a bit of a surprise to you, especially given how much I enjoy it and how much of a mainstay of my submissiveness it has become, that I actually did not expect to enjoy anal sex. I was curious about it, and while my girlfriends and I were all agreed on how much we enjoyed fucking, sucking guys cocks and getting out cunts thoroughly licked, when it came to anal, the feedback from those that had tried it ranged from the damning it with faint praise with comments like “well, it wasn’t too bad, and at least he liked it” to the outright “there’s no fucking way I’m doing that again”. None of my friends, it seemed had a particularly positive experience with it.

Porn, didn’t really help. In the porn I watched, it seemed that girls’ arses were always ready to be fucked; generally, I realise now although it didn’t occur to me then, because they have been pre-lubed. And that, you see, is where I think the crux of the problems that my girl friends who didn’t like it lay. Unlike our cunts, our arses are not self-lubricating; the whole “Oops, sorry, wrong hole” thing doesn’t actually work. A man can no more stick their cock into an unlubricated arse, than they can an unlubricated cunt. Now, whereas, with some foreplay and attention, a cunt will get wet, no amount of foreplay will make an arsehole naturally wet enough to take a cock. Sadly, a lot of young people get their “sex education” from porn and it gives them completely inaccurate expectations of how bodies actually work.

Now, I think I’ve alluded to the fact that I’m willing to give most things a try, and, the issues with porn that I’ve described above notwithstanding, from the depictions I had seen of it, there was something delightfully degrading and downright filthy about it that appealed at some very basic level to me. I wasn’t even aware that I had a submissive nature at this stage, let alone h began to explore it; I’m not even sure I knew what “being submissive” even was, but with hindsight it was quite clear that it was there all along. Even back then in my earliest days, I liked the feeling of being “used” by the guy who was fucking me, I loved the experience of being “taken”, and the more roughly I was “taken”, the more I enjoyed it.

And so it happened that, after quite a lot to drink at a party, whilst being fucked senseless and having already been eaten to numerous orgasms, I decided to let my curiosity get the better of me. I wasn’t a stranger to having the guy in question’s finger (or occasionally, fingers) up me when he was fucking me or eating me out and so, with generous quantities of lube being applied, he slowly got me relaxed and opened up with open, then two, and finally three fingers before replacing them with his cock.

Yes, it was a slightly strange sensation at first; it also hurt, despite the lube, but it actually felt pretty good. When he started working his cock in and out, it felt just as deliciously dirty as I thought it would, the discomfort only heightened my enjoyment.  All the time he kept saying things like “I’m fucking your arse,” and “Your arse feels so tight,” and calling me things like “Filthy Slut!” and “Dirty Bitch!” And in that moment, I was exactly those things. I was a filthy slut, I was a dirty Bitch, I was a bad girl who was getting her arse fucked, and I loved it. When he increased the pace and his balls started slapping against my cunt lips, I loved it even more.

Looking back, I think that was my first encounter with “subspace”. As he pounded my arse with long, hard, deep strokes, and as he told me over and over what a bad girl, what a dirty girl I was, I lost myself in a way that I had never really experienced before. When, at the end, he pulled out, stripped off the condom and shot his load over my back and across my arse cheeks, I really did feel like I was the “filthy slut” that he had been calling me as his cock filled my arse and he fucked me with an intensity that I had rarely experienced before.

So, yes, it’s fairly safe to say that he did enjoy it, unlike my friends, so did I, and it was definitely something that I intended to try again.

And here’s the thing, I believe that, if done properly, anal sex should only hurt as the much as the recipient wants it to. The level of pain and discomfort is directly proportional to the amount of lubrication applied.

As I’ve subsequently discovered, I actually like it to hurt quite a bit, and through practice and experience, I know just how much lubrication Master C or “The Other Guy” have to use to get the desired level of pleasure and pain that a good arse-fucking should deliver. That’s not to say that sometimes whichever one of them is fucking my arse won’t deliberately use less than that “optimum” amount, but that’s fine too on occasions and, sometimes I want it to hurt more than others.

So, if your partner tis one of those women who tends to shy away from anal, you may want to try and find out what her reasons are; it maybe that her only previous experience was with someone who watched too much porn and thought he could force his way in with just a little bit of spit. Anal sex can be a highly enjoyable experience for both partners, but men really have the responsibility to make it so for the person whose arse they want to stick their cock up.

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Marked


I was watching a porn clip earlier that really got my juices flowing. In it, the girl was going down on a guy in what was clearly some kind of public toilet.

The girl in question was probably in her mid twenties. pretty, blonde curlyish hair, blue eyes, and a very perky pair of boobs. They guy, well to be honest, the only bit of him I could see was the portion of his cock that wasn’t in her mouth, but it certainly looked like a very tasty specimen. I don’t speak much German, but it was pretty obvious he was enjoying the girl’s attentions.

Of course, after a few minutes of having his cock hungrily and enthusiastically sucked, he reaches his climax. Does he reward her for a (blow) job well done, and come in her mouth? No, of course not; he pulls out and blows an unbelievably large load all over her face and boobs. If the average guy produces between 5ml and 10ml of ejaculate, this guy must have been storing it up for months; by the time he was finished, she looked like she’d had a pint of the stuff splashed on her. It did, however, look as sexy as fuck.

So, so far we’ve had:
– Sex in a semi-public place. Check!
– A pretty girl drenched in a thick load of cum. Check!

As you can see, it has already ticked a couple of my “Fuck Yeah” boxes.

She goes to clean herself up and is told, in one of the few words of German I know, very firmly, “Nein!”

The guy pulls up his shorts and proceeds to back out of the toilet, beckoning the girl, who is still naked, to follow.

So, quite clearly, we are about to have public humiliation. CHECK!

The toilet transpires to be one of those huts, next to a beach, where sunbathers can go to “freshen up”. The girl then has to walk past the people lying on their sunbeds, his cum still very noticeable on her skin, until she reaches the sea. Only once she is in the water, is she able to wash his cum off.

Needless to say, I found this short, seven or so minute clip, extremely hot. The wank and the orgasm that followed it lasted longer than the clip itself.

Part of me wanted to be that girl. The nakedness, the naughtiness, the shamelessness, the sluttiness. Not to mention she’d had the pleasure of having a mighty nice cock to suck on.

Part of me wanted to be that shameless exhibitionist; walking proudly, drenched in cum for all to see. Another part of me cringed in terror of the prospect that Master C may, one day, do something similar to me, while at the same time, I’m secretly hoping that He does.

So basically, if I absolutely had to create a porn site, it would definitely feature pretty girls getting drenched in cum before having to display their badge of sluttiness to anyone who just happened to be close enough to see it. And, if it just so happens that the woman who gets to be drenched with a lovely thick load of cum (or several) before being humiliated in public happens to be me on occasion, well, so much the better.

Now, on that delicious thought, if you’ll excuse me, I think I need to indulge in another wank.

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Cumslut


So, it was Friday evening, and I’d been having a few drinks to wash away the working week blues. Anyone who knows me will know I have a particularly unScottish inability to drink, so it didn’t take too much to get me fairly drunk. Not rolling drunk, just seriously randily drunk.

Master C, of course, was happy to oblige. Despite it being a Friday, there weren’t too many people about; possibly because it was still fairly early, or possibly, on account of the weather (this is Scotland in March after all). Either way, we used the apparent lack of humanity to our advantage and, almost inevitably, we found ourselves in one of those lanes that have seem many a drunken sexual escape.

Bracing myself in a suitable back-doorway, it wasn’t long before I was being taken hard and fast from behind; Master C’s long, thick cock giving my cunt a delicious pounding.

Rubbing my clit furiously as He fucked me from behind, I surprised myself by how quickly I came, my climax taking me almost completely unawares. I wasn’t complaining though, it felt good; just the release I hadn’t appreciated I’d needed so badly.

Master C wasn’t far behind me, but instead of flooding my cunt with His warm, sticky cum, He spun me around and made me get on my knees. I wasn’t complaining; I’ll happily take His cum in any hole and as I knelt before Him, I opened my mouth wide in expectation.

He didn’t come in my mouth though; instead Master C let fly, covering my face, neck and the front of my top. Almost instinctively, I raised my hand to my face to gather His cum, but He batted it away. I was puzzled but then I saw a wicked glint in His eye. “Leave it” Master C said, “I want to see you wear it like a badge of shame, I want people to see what a filthy slut you are.”

As his cum dried on my skin, my cunt grew even wetter. The idea that I was about to be humiliated in public was a surprisingly huge thrill.

We walked out of the alley and on to the main street. It wasn’t long before we began encountering people. Most didn’t notice, but some gave me an odd look, and more than a couple actually stared. My cheeks were burning, which probably only served to make the mess on my face even more noticeable, but I didn’t care; with every step, every glance, my cunt was getting wetter and wetter.

If walking down the street wasn’t bad enough, standing at the bus stop was unbearable. There was no way to avoid the gaze of people waiting there. I could see their expressions, I could hear their comments of, “that looks like…” and, ” is that…?” Part of me wanted to disappear, part of me wanted to shout out, proudly, that yes, it was cum on my face, and a lot of me wanted Master C‘s cock inside me again, right there in that bus stop.

The bus driver gave me a long, hard stare, and I was painfully aware of the glances in my direction.

On getting home, I wasn’t allowed to get cleaned up; not that I wanted to wait. Displaying me as His filthy slut had obviously turned Master C on as much as it had turned me on to be displayed. We fucked hard, furiously; my mouth, my cunt, my arse all being claimed by His wonderful cock before He unleashed a second load over me.

I don’t think I have ever felt so filthy, and I loved it. After the strains and stresses of the previous few days, it was just the pick-me-up I needed.