Waiting


I am on my knees; head downcast, naked, blindfolded, my hands tied securely behind my back. Helpless. Bound. At His mercy.

He has me exactly where, and how, He wants me. I can do nothing but wait for Him to use me as He desires.

The anticipation burns as I wait for Him. I endure His scrutiny; feeling His eyes on me as He slowly walks around me; occasionally filling my ears with the loud snapping crack of His belt.

He examines me. Although I cannot see Him, I can sense how He views me. I yearn for His touch. I hunger for His command; eager to obey His slightest whim.

His silence is agonising. My cunt is hot and wet. I long for Him to acknowledge me, to give me some indication of His desire, His need.

I wait in silence; enduring each second as it ticks by. My legs begin to cramp in the uncomfortable position of my submission to Him.

I wait in silence, as the sound of leather cracking against leather fills my senses.

Discomfort wars with anticipation, pain with arousal. What is His will? What does He require of me?

A shiver runs through me as the belt coils around my neck. It presses my skin as He pulls it tight.

A sharp tug forces me to raise my head.

I become aware of His breathing; rapid, laboured. I can almost feel His pre-climactic tension. Apart from His breathing and the rhythmic beat of His hand stroking His cock, there is silence.

He groans.

His cum strikes my face like a blow from His hand. Hot, rich, sticky; I feel it trickle down my face, warming my skin as moves.

At last, He speaks. “Open your mouth, little one. Taste your reward.”

I comply. His cock fills my mouth. I tighten my lips around Him and savour the taste of His essence.

#WickedWednesday
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Keeping it casual


I have it on the very best authority that we redheaded girls are insatiable, immoral, wanton sluts. Certainly, I will admit that I’ve never had difficulty keeping emotional attachments out of sex. Yes I love the additional element of having sex with someone I love, but I also love the purely physical sensations of a good fuck.

Whilst I can’t say that I’ve never had a “Fuck Buddy”, I definitely have “Friends With Benefits”, friends with whom I have sex with on a fairly regular basis; the most notable being “The Girl” and “The Other Guy“.

These friendships have, so far, lasted several years, so in that respect, they count as long term; and while I have strong bonds with them (some more than others), the only place I seek the emotional, companionable support of a partnership is with Master C.

I enjoy fucking. I enjoying fucking and being fucked by other people. I make no bones about it, I am an insatiable slut. But while I love being with my FwBs for what they do to me and how they make me feel sexually as both a lover/partner and as a woman, the only one I love is Master C; he is the one I simply could not be with out.

Quite simply, as well as being my Master, He is my rock, my soul mate, my world. I maybe an insatiable slut, but I am also an incurably romantic slut. Yes, I “love” my FwBs as friends, but if you took away the sex, they would still, in most cases, be friends. With Master C, there is the full package of intimacy; physical, spiritual, emotional, intellectual and sexual. It is, perhaps, because of this, knowing that I have all this, that I am able to enjoy sex with others without fee of any other entanglement, and just concentrate on enjoying the sex.

As for one-night stands, well, I’ve recounted my experiences of these often enough for it to probably go without saying that these are something else that I enjoy and that, luckily for me, Master C allows me the freedom to enjoy so long as I am prepared to accept the consequences of letting my cunt do my thinking for me.

I am particularly fortunate that I am able to enjoy these side relationships, both with my long-term FwBs and my random one-nighters. I am, however fully aware that I can only have these as added benefits within the context of a strong, fully bound together primary relationship with Master C.

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday

Wet


It’s that moment. He has turned me on. His lips, his tongue, His fingers have all worked their magic. My body is a quivering mass of anticipation. My cunt aches with the need to filled. And then, just then, He touches me; tracing a finger between my labia, feeling my wetness for the first time.

It is a moment that I particularly love; that moment when Master C feels just how wet He has made me; just how ready I am for His cock to fill me.

That first touch can be all that is needed sometimes to set me off, to ignite my orgasm while at the same time wanting so much more.

Spreading me open with His fingers; coating them with my juices. Will He anoint my nipples with my essence? Will He make me taste myself on Him? His fingers in my mouth so close to my nose that I can inhale the scent of my arousal as I lick His fingers clean. Will He drive a finger deep inside me? In that moment, I am helpless, undone, His to do with however He so desires. Will He lick me? Will He fuck me? Will He tease me some more?

It is such a delicious moment; that moment where He discovers just how much He has turned me on, just how much I want and need Him, just how much I hunger to feel his wonderfully hard cock inside me.

And then, that almost agonising moment when His fingers are gone, and the anticipation builds for what He is about to do next.

#WickedWednesday

The photogenic penis and adult contact sites


OK, so I realise this really doesn’t have very much, or possibly even anything to do with the prompt that No Pants Endurance has set, but it’s one of those perennial questions that comes around, so to speak, every now and then. The question that frequently gets asked us girly sex bloggers is if we get sent unsolicited photos of men’s genitalia, and if so, how many. Thankfully, these days, I receive very few; but in my Adult Friend Finder days, I used to receive anything between 5 – 10 a day. Now I’m fine with a bit of penile bombardment, especially when the penis doing the bombarding belongs to Master C or the “Other Guy”, but there are limits.

The pictures I received were all of fine specimens, but having spent a few months on that, and other sites of that ilk, I can see why so many women get turned off by them. I mean, we ladies do like to shop around, and the adult contact site is kind of a guy’s shop window, I get that, but, the truth is, they all look like cocks. It’s a bit like going into Currys or John Lewis and being presented with a wall of washing machines; we know we want one, but can’t tell very much about them based just on what they look like.

Penises come (no pun intended), in a variety of shapes and sizes. Well, that’s not strictly true. They do present themselves in an infinite variety of sizes; from long and thin, to short and thick, from straight to bendy, and everything in between, but by an large, in terms of shape, they are all pretty much, well, you know,cock shaped. They are, it must be said, designed for function rather than aesthetics in my opinion. I’m not knocking cocks, they are often very good at what they do (some better than others, but that’s down to the owner, not the actual cock), but there are, I believe, much nicer bits of a man’s body to look at.

Now, OK, it doesn’t bother me that much. After all, I:

a) Like cocks, well, the way they feel inside me, not so much for their aesthetic value; and

b) Like one cock very much in particular. It’s the one I come home to every night and regularly makes me cum.

But, put yourselves in the women’s shoes for a second (might be a tight squeeze, but the results might be worth it). As I mentioned in a previous post about cock size, there’s only so much you can glean from a photo. You can’t really tell much about its size, you certainly can’t tell anything about the way its owner works it; so what do those pictures tell us?

Well, other than the fact that you have a cock and so, therefore, are definitely a bloke, absolutely nothing. And, given that you are blokes, I can already fairly safely assume that you have a cock, so you’re telling me nothing I don’t already know.

Now, that being the case, how am I, or indeed any woman going to be able to determine anything useful when all we’re being presented with is a picture of a bit that:

a) We already know you have; and

b) If a woman meets you and decides that nothing’s going to happen, she’s never going to see, let alone feel.

I’ll be honest, as I said, I like cocks, but I’ve never yet seen a photo of one (especially a photo that shows nothing but a cock) that’s made me go “WOW!!! I must have that inside me!”. Again, actually, that’s not strictly true, but when Master C or the “Other Guy” sext me with a photo of their cocks, I already know everything about it, and I know I want it in me, but I digress…

In the world of adult contact sites, it’s a buyer’s market as far as we women are concerned given by how much you guys outnumber us, so why not give us something more to look at? It doesn’t have to be a face, but showing us a nice toned body (yes, I am that shallow) might help us. And even if, as I said in my previous post, physical attraction doesn’t guarantee sexual satisfaction, if the attraction isn’t there to start with, then your cock, no matter how nice, probably will never get near us.

Any way, just my thoughts on the subject.

#MasturbationMonday

We don’t have to take our clothes off


Quickies are great; not just because the can be done just about anywhere, whenever the urge takes you, but because they represent an urgency, a desire, a hunger for the other person that can no longer be denied.

I’ll be honest, it doesn’t really take much to get me in the mood for sex. Sure, long, protracted foreplay with lots of kissing, stroking, slowly undressing, licking and sucking before Master C decides which hole He is going to fuck me in (and if I’m specially lucky it’ll be both) is great. Who doesn’t love a seriously intense session like that. But having said that, when the urge takes Him and He orders me to turn around and lift my skirt because He is going to fuck me there and then, will get me wetter than an Autumn day in Scotland faster than I can comply with His demand.

It might be behind the pub after a night out, in the bathroom at a party, even just when Master C gets home from work and I’m in the kitchen; when Master C wants me, He wants me and He is going to have me.

There is no subtlety, not a hint of romance, it is simply a quick, rough, hard, filthy fuck that leaves me feeling used, but oh so happy. This particularly applies to the random guys that I pick up on nights out. It’s not about romance or protracted foreplay; it’s simply about the urge, the need to fuck that both me and they guy I’m fucking are experience. When I’m bracing myself in a doorway as some guy pounds my cunt urgently from behind, there isn’t any time for niceties (sometimes we haven’t even exchanged names), it’s all about the fuck; his cock, my cunt and the urgent rush to climax.

I love the fact that Master C just can’t keep His hands off me and His cock out of me. I love that He and other men just want to take me and use me. I love being a slut. I love that other men treat me as some sort of easy, common slut  and that Master C makes me feel like His special, filthy little slut, to fuck whenever, wherever He desires. It makes me cheap sometimes, it makes me fell dirty, but it always, always makes me feel desired and wanted. Quickies definitely play to this side of my personality.

You really don’t always have to take your clothes off to have a fucking good time.

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday

A darker shade of subspace


It’s a wee bit bizarre, but I go through spells where my tastes and desires become increasingly dark. I have always had a penchant for roughness. I have always desired to feel used. Such things are not new to me. Sometimes, however, I want it rougher, darker. So much so that the intensity and level to which I want, no, need to be treated in this way becomes almost frightening.

I love when Master C pulls my hair. I love when Master C starves me of air, either forcing His cock down my throat or squeezing my neck with His strong hands; or, better still, both together. Usually this is something that I do because I enjoy it. Sometimes, however, it is something that I actively crave.

I have pretty much always identified as submissive. Subjecting myself to Master C’s will is central to who I am. I accept His support, His tutelage, as much as I recognise His right discipline me when I transgress. I place myself fully in His hands. He is my rock and my teacher as much as He is My Master.

It goes without saying that I trust Him; not just with my life,  but my needs and desires, especially in those times when they turn so much darker. I need Master C to take me to that edge of reality. I yearn to feel His hands tighten around my neck as He fucks my throat. I desire to have Him gather a handful of my hair and tug my head sharply back, bending my neck to its limits as he takes me from behind. I need Him to slap me harder, to thrash me with more and harder lashes of his belt. I want tears. I want Him to command me and use me. I want Him to own me, to take me, to have me anywhere, anyhow He wants me.

Basically, I want to be His filthy, devoted slut and for Master C to call me His “good girl”.

It’s possibly hormone related, but subspace definitely reaches totally different planes of intensity sometimes.

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday

Hunger


Sometimes I have a certain hunger, a hunger for Master C’s cock in my mouth.

I want to use my lips to make Him hard.

I want to feel my lips slide along His length.

I want to feel the head of His cock lodge in the back of my throat.

I want to hears His moans and sighs as I drive Him closer.

I want to feel his cock twitch as His climax approaches.

I want to feel His cock erupt, filling my mouth with His cum.

I want to savour the rich flavour of His cum on my tongue before swallowing it down.

I want to sit back, lick my lips and await His approval.

I want to hear him say “Good little slut” as his breathing slowly returns to normal.

#MasturbationMonday The Oral Sex Project

The joys of Skype


Skype is the business traveller’s best friend. Even when Master C is as far from home as I can be and still be in Britain, it allows much more in the way of interaction than a simple phone call.

Take last night for example; I’m at home, Master C is in His hotel room, in Bristol. My laptop set up so that it’s camera can take in most of my bed. Maste C calls me and after a few minutes spent describing our respective days to each other, He begins describing what He’d do to me if He weren’t 400+ miles away.

Inevitably, I find myself naked and I’m rubbing moisturiser into my boobs, imagining the gloopy substance is Master C’s cum, as He describes how He’s going to thrash me for being such a dirty little tease.

As my cunt gets hotter and wetter, I long to feel His tongue on my clit. I desperately want to finger myself, make myself cum but Master C orders me not to.

A look at the laptop screen and I see him stroking His lovely, thick cock and I so wish it was me doing it to Him.

“Do you want to suck this?” Master C asks. I nod, wishing He was here or I was there so I could take the angry, swollen purple head between my lips.

“Do you want this in your cunt?” Again I nod, moaning confirmation of how much I want Him inside me, stretching me, filling me, fucking me.

“Do you want this in your arse, you filthy little slut?”

“Yes please,” I moan, “please stick your lovely big fat cock up my slutty little arse.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m your filthy little slut and I love taking your cock up my arse.”

“Slut!”

“Yes,”

“Filthy whore!”

“Yes,”

“Finger yourself! Fuck your cunt with your fingers.”

I comply, and as my thumb presses against my clit, I feel my climax ignite.

One orgasm isn’t enough though, and Master C orders me to continue fucking myself. My cunt grips my fingers as I plunge them deep inside me. My clit throbs beneath my thumb. My head tosses from side to side and my back arches. Distantly I hear Him ordering me on, demanding I abuse myself further.

Eventually, after what seems like an eternity of pleasure filled torture, Master C relented. He ordered me to lick my juices from my fingers. I savour the taste as, in the screen, He furiously pumps His cock.

“Cum on me!” I gasp, “Cover me with your lovely cum, make me your very own cum-soaked slut.”

He moans my name. “Mmmoooo-ahhhh-rrrraaaggg….” It’s almost a sob as His cock edupts, sending long, thick jets streaking through the air. The rationale part of my brain thinks it’s such a shame all that lovely cum is going to waste, but mostly, I don’t care; my body is too drained to worry about such things.

We sign-off. I switch off the light and curl up to go to sleep and dream filthy dreams. The only thing missing is Master C’s warm, strong body to cuddle up next to.

#MasturbationMonday

Freshly fucked


It’s a feeling I love. I’ve just been fucked, Master C has shot a lovely thick load of cum inside my cunt and then, after He has pulled out, it begins to trickle out of me.

I love the warm, sticky feeling as His cum begins to ooze; a lovely warm reminder of the fuck we’ve had.

It’s especially nice when Master C fucks me in the morning and then, afterwards, I sit at my desk at work, squirming slightly in my seat as His cum dribbles into my knickers, reminding me of the lovely start to my day.

What can I say? I’m a slut that loves cum. You knew that already though…

Playing your best hand


If I’m being honest, nothing beats a good, hard, satisfying shag, except a good, hard, satisfying shag that results in a toe-curling orgasm or two. Of course, sometimes a fuck doesn’t result in an orgasm, toe-curling or otherwise, and sometimes we get urges when our partner isn’t there to give us the seeing-to we crave. Sometimes we just have to take ourselves in hand.

When we first discover the joys of wanking, in my case I was 12, there was a furtive, guilty feeling about it that, for me anyway, heightened the pleasure. There was something intensely arousing about furiously fingering my cunt and rubbing my clit, trying desperately to keep quiet so that my parents or siblings didn’t hear me through the seemingly paper thin walls that served only to intensify the power of my orgasm when it took me. I can’t remember how many times I had to feign a bout of coughing to disguise an orgasmic moan that escaped from between my teenage lips.

Whereas, back then, wanking was a guilty secret, shared only with my very best friends, today I’m much more relaxed and open about these things. Let’s make no mistake, I am out and proud: I AM A HIGHLY-SEXED WOMAN AND I AM UNASHAMEDLY PROUD TO BE A WANKER.

Whether you use your fingers or toys or both, whether wanking is a solo activity or something you share with your partner, wanking yourself to an orgasm is one of life’s great pleasures.

I’ve wanked when I’ve been single, I’ve wanked when I’ve been in a relationship. Now that I’m Master C’s slut and can feel His cock in my cunt, mouth or arse pretty much any time I want, and certainly whenever He wants, wanking is still a hugely important part of my life. Usually I’ll wank when Master C isn’t around, often we will wank together, watching each other as we each pleasure ourselves, which is something I find highly arousing. Sometimes I’ll wank Him as He wanks me; me stroking His cock as He fingers my cunt; wanking each other off, playing with each other until first one, then both of us cum.

Orgasms are the most wonderful sensation we experience, whether they are caused by a partner, or they are brought about by ourselves. Sometimes, for us girls at least, wanking is a more reliable source of orgasm than fucking, so when the need arises, relax, settle back comfortably, stick your hand down you knickers and rub one out. You know it makes sense.

Food For Thought Friday - #F4TFriday