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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Master C’s belt


There is, I admit, something about leather; the smell, the texture, the feeling of it against my skin. When it comes to leather clothing, the only items I actually possess are my motorbike gear. I don’t actually have any leather fetish items, although Master C does like to fuck His “Biker Slut” sometimes, so my biking leathers have featured in my sex life from time to time. The only other item that I own, that kind of counts is a pair of almost knee length “fuck me” boots which I wear very rarely because I would almost certainly fall over if I wore them for any prolonged period.

No, when it comes to leather, sex and kink, there is only one thing that really “does it” for me and that is, of course, Master C’s belt.

I both fear, and love, Master C’s belt.

I fear it for the pain it will cause me; the delicious agony of my flaming red arse cheeks as Master C punishes me for my various transgressions. I always know when I’ve done something that deserves the belt; I know when to present myself, arse bare, bent over, waiting for its chastising kiss. There is no escaping it. There is no point trying to resist it. When the belt is due, the belt will come, and I will bear it and endure it like the chastened little slut that I am. Forced to count the lashes, desperate to hold back the sobbing tears; Master C will thrash me until my defiance is beaten, my transgression punished, my submission complete.

When Master C thrashes me, there are always those moments of dreadful anticipation before the first blow lands; the calm before the storm, the silence as Master C prepares Himself for what needs to be done. There are the shivers of anticipation that run along my spine, the involuntary clenching of the muscles in my buttocks as I await the first contact, and the inevitable moistening of my cunt as I wait, exposed and vulnerable, awaiting my fate.

The tension mounts as the eternal seconds tick by; my stoic silence is a pretence at defiance, a challenge that requires to be met and for which Master C should show me no mercy.

And then, that brief, short swooshing sound as the belt moves through the air, gathering momentum as it makes that short arc that ends with a stinging crack as it bites into the flesh of my bare arse.

From that moment on it is simply about endurance; accepting each stroke that rains down, feeling the burn intensify with each lash as synapses linking my pain and pleasure centres go into overdrive.

Yet, for all that I fear it for the pain that it will inflict, I also love it.

I love it when Master C uses His belt to bind my wrists together as He fucks me from behind. I love the way it digs into my skin, tightening as I struggle against its binds, its surface chafing my wrists; holding me in place as I endure the pounding of His cock in whichever hole Master C has chosen to take His pleasure from. Once again, I am helpless as His cock pounds my cunt or my arse. My arms and shoulders strain as He pulls back, pulling me on to Him as He fucks me.

I love it when Master C fastens He belt around my neck, pulling it tighter as He fucks my mouth, forcing His cock deep into my throat. I love how His belt constricts around me, choking me, denying me air, making my lungs burn as Master C force feeds me His lovely cock.

Sometimes, when Master C fucks me, He will hold His belt across my neck as He drives His cock into my cunt; holding me down, depriving me of air. As He fucks me, He alternates His grip on either side of the belt, easing then increasing the constriction. When Master C fucks me from behind, He will pull more firmly on the belt, tightening it around my neck as He take me hard. In either way, with Master C above me or behind me, fucking my cunt or my arse, the anoxia intensifying the sensations as He takes me along the path to the brink of my climax; the need for release competing with the increasing need to breathe until, so often, it is that first shuddering inhalation that provides the spark to ignite my orgasm.

For all of the things I love about Master C’s belt and the way He wields and uses it to hurt me and pleasure me, what I love most of all, however, is the way it marks my pale white skin, branding me with the mark of Master C’s ownership, his domination and his mastery of me.

For all these reasons, and more, I love my Master’s belt; but behind that love, the fear remains.

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Friends reunited


As I mentioned in my last post, on Saturday, I managed to meet up with “The Girl” for the first time since September. Our reunion was everything I expected. There were smiles, there were tears, there were hugs, there was laughter and, yes, there were orgasms.

It was lovely to simply see her and talk to her in person again. Yes, we have kept in touch, but Zoom calls don’t quite do it. It was, however, pretty obvious from the outset that we were not going to be restricting ourselves to chat. From the very first peck on the cheek, the first hand on the other’s arm or shoulder, we both knew exactly where this encounter was heading.

So, not to beat about the bush, as it were, things moved in the direction we both knew they were moving and ended up exactly where we both wanted them to be.

Feeling “The Girl’s” body next to mine again, feeling her skin beneath my fingers as her hands caressed mine was simply wonderful. From the first kiss, we just melted into each other and let nearly 9 months of pent up hunger for each other fall away.

Fingers tickled and teased. Lips kissed and explored. Teeth nipped and nibbled. Tongues flicked and licked. Orgasms ignited, subsided and flared again.

It felt so good to taste her and to taste me on her. The scent and taste of her cunt was intoxicating as I feasted hungrily upon it. The intensity of the sensations as her fingers twisted inside my cunt, and her tongue tormented my clit was simply divine.

The last 9 months were simply stripped away as we took each to the heights of orgasm again and again; sometimes using our fingers to tease each other’s cunts, sometimes using our lips and tongues to drive each other wild.

Time, such as it had any meaning at all, was measured in heartbeats, in kisses, in sighs and moans, in climaxes and cuddles and it all felt so right, so wonderful.

Afterwards, at home, Master C, as I knew he would, required me to recount every detail; making me relive the events of the afternoon and evening as I told Him everything. Occasionally He would require more specific detail. Sometimes He would stop me and do to me the very thing I had just described that “The Girl” had done earlier.

“Did she do this?” He’s ask, pinching my nipples as His tongue beat on my clit. “Was it like this?” He’d enquire as He slid one, then two fingers up inside me and twisted them around. “Did you taste like this?” He’d ask, lifting His fingers to my lips and slipping them into my mouth.

When I’d told Master C all the was to tell, He spun me around, told me to brace myself, and reminded me of the one thing “The Girl” couldn’t do.

He fucked me hard, driving His cock into my cunt with powerful thrusts. Having been taken so tenderly by “The Girl”, it felt so good to be used by Master C; the differences so apparent as He fucked me; the rougher touch of His hands, the firmness of His body, the coarseness of the stubble on His face and, of course, His cock; His wonderful thick, hard cock that was pounding me mercilessly.

As the end approached, He spun me around again and demanded that I took Him in His mouth. For an intense moment I tasted myself on His cock before He filled my mouth with a deliciously think load of cum.

We would fuck again later; Master C eating me to the edge of another shuddering climax, having held me on the brink for what seemed like eternity before finally using His cock to ignite my release as He fucked me beyond my ability to hold on.

All in all, it was a fantastic day and a wonderful way to see in the new month.

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Times are a changin’


If I’m being completely honest, my sex life is pretty much as perfect as anyone could hope for. In Master C, not only do I have a caring and attentive partner, who knows my body and my needs and attends to them regularly and fully, I also have a strict, but fair Master who allows me to be who I am and to do what I want with whom I want so long as I am willing to accept my actions have consequences. I get quality, quantity and variety. It’s a win-win that makes me a very happy slutty but satisfied submissive.

Of course, the one fly in the ointment has been that, for much of the past 12 months, I haven’t been able to enjoy the freedoms that Master C allows me to have.

Now, this isn’t exactly a hardship. I do miss spending time with “The Other Guy” and I also miss the thrill of my occasional random dalliances, but at the end of the day, other than novelty, they don’t give me anything that Master C doesn’t already lavish on me. If I want a cock in any of my holes, Master C’s cock will always be my first cock of choice and is absolutely my preferred cock. “The Other Guy” is also very acquainted with my body, and also elicits the most fabulous responses from me, but such encounters are occasional; at most 2-3 times a year. As for the randoms, well, that’s just fucking. They don’t know me, they don’t know what buttons to push to really turn me on, they are simply a form of “cock on demand” for when an urge that can’t wait until I get home (and the need to be soundly punished when I do) takes me.

No, all things aside, I don’t actually miss any of that.

There is, however, one person I do really miss, and that is “The Girl”. I’ve mentioned before that “The Girl” and I have had an intimate friendship stretching back over 30 years (we been friends for over 40 but the “intimate” is the key bit in that sentence), and she was the first person (other than myself) to bring me to orgasm. I always love the time we spend together, whether it be having sex or simply chatting over a glass or several of wine (although, more often than not, that often leads to sex too). I love exploring the soft curves of her body with my hands, lips and tongue. I love the taste of her cunt, I love the silly little noises and facial expressions she makes when she is aroused and when she comes and I love the things that does to me and how those make me feel.

I long to hold her and be held by her, to kiss her and be kissed by her, to feel her body pressed against mine. I yearn for the sensations of her fingers sliding and twisting inside my cunt, teasing me, tormenting me. I hunger for the taste of her cunt and the feeling of her tongue on mine; so different from Master C’s, but still able to take me to the edge of the precipice and hold me there before finally igniting my climax.

Mentioning Master C, I also miss the “punishment fucks” that sex with “The Girl” will earn me. The fucks where he shows me “what I was missing” and what “she can’t give me”. Those fucks are always wonderfully intense, especially since the retelling of what “The Girl” and I got up to allows me to relive those things before Master C fucks me.

So, where does this all tie in with the prompt? Well, it’s quite simple. Thanks to the changes in Covid related restrictions, in a few hours time, “The Girl” and I will be meeting up, in person, for the first time since September. This is “the change” I have been wishing for the most; not just for the sex, but for the chance to be with and catch-up with my oldest and dearest friend for the first time in what seems like forever. I’m imagining so many things; far more than can fit into a single afternoon encounter, and I’m hoping this means we will be able to spend many more afternoons together again. After all, we have a lot of catching up to do…

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Open access


This week’s prompt on No True Way is:

A good girl is always available.”

Now, it is true that, within the context of my relationship I am pretty much “always available”, and that if I perform “my services” well, Master C will call me His “Good girl”, but I’m not sure whether always being available, makes me a good girl or whether being a good girl means I am always available.

I suspect, if it’s either, it’s largely the former; largely because I am “availability” means that quite often (although sadly not recently), I am actually a very BAD girl.

I suspect the context to this is it’s not the availability that defines goodness/badness, but the who I am making myself available to.

I freely admit (and have done so frequently on this blog), that I enjoy casual sexual encounters with random men. I’ve possibly mellowed a little as I’ve got older, largely due to having my regular additional partners in “The Other Guy” and “The Girl”, and through our poly “Sharing Circle”, but there is still an element of, if I fancy someone, there’s a good chance I may end up fucking them. This, of course, is why I am often (although currently not nearly as often as I’d wish, to the point that I can currently only think about such things), a bad girl. And, of course, bad girls absolutely have to be punished. Now, because I am an absolute glutton for punishment, my natural inclination to put my “availability” to use means that I am frequently a bad girl. I am, however, also willing to accept responsibility for my misbehaviour, and therefore freely accept whatever discipline Master C chooses to apply. The fact that I accept such discipline from Him, and regularly “thank” Him for His correction by sucking His cock afterwards as a means of showing my genuine contrition for my transgressions, is one of the things that sometimes earns me that coveted “Good girl” appellation.

On the other hand, as I have said countless times, part of my submission is that if Master C wants me, He is free to have me and use me in any way He sees fit, whenever He desires. He is also free to offer me within the context of our “Sharing Circle”, to other members. I am “required” to be available to Master C and to whomever He offers me to. I know that it pleases Master C when I perform my duties diligently and unquestioningly and, pleasing Master C is a very big part of my own pleasure. A large part of being Master C’s “Good girl” is my dedication to His pleasure; it is my duty and one I perform willingly and, as a result, my mouth, my cunt, and my arse are always available when He has a need and/or desire for them.

I’m still not entirely sure if always being available makes me a good girl, but then, perhaps, maybe sometimes I have to be a bad girl to be good.

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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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TMI Tuesday – Oh you sexy thangs!


1. Pick your next sexual encounter. Only pick one, then tell us why that is your choice.
a. Blindfolded during oral sex
b. Sex in a hot tub
c. Sex in an elevator
d. Phone sex
e. Bringing in a third party
This one was easy. I have done all of the above at some point, and while I do look forwards to the days when I/we can get third parties involved again, for me, being blindfolded while someone goes down on me wins (if I’m also restrained, it’s an added bonus). It’s the whole being at their mercy thing, the heightened anticipation and the not knowing what the other person is going to do next and, in some circumstances, who the other person actually is that just makes it such a deliciously arousing experience.

2. When could having sex with an ex be a good thing?
In my own experience, I’m not sure that it can be. I can get how having someone who knows your body and the way it responds and the things you like might seem like a good thing, but if they are an ex, they are almost certainly one for a reason, and you would almost certainly be at risk of reopening old wounds. In my particular case, the ex I was having sex with was cheating on his then partner who just so happened to be the person he cheated on me with and then left me for. And yes, the sex was great, but it didn’t make the situation any less fucked up.

3. Have you ever had sex in a public toilet? No judgment. (Oooh you nasty!)
This is one of those rare things that I can say, I’ve never actually done. The idea of fucking in a pub/club loo just really doesn’t do it for me; I’d rather drag them outside into an alley behind the venue in question. That said, there are some circumstances where it could tap into my degradation/humiliation fetish, so I won’t say it’s a “never”.

4. Car sex is hot or not?
Not especially. I mean, when you need to fuck, you need to fuck, and it does lend itself to the possibility of being observed (either deliberately or accidentally) which adds to the experience, but it’s generally cramped and not especially comfortable. If the weather conditions permit, then being fucked over the bonnet of said car is probably a better option.

5. What is the most appealing thing about you?
I suspect I’m probably not the best person to ask. I’m a kinky, submissive redhead, which I know works for a lot of people, and I am very much a blowjob enthusiast (as anyone who has read this blog or follows me on twitter will already know), which has earned me a lot of plaudits down the years. I think it’s one of those “in the eye of the beholder” things. Oh, and did I mention, I also happily take it in the arse.

Bonus: Some time ago in Geneva, Switzerland, a coffee shop opened where you can get a hot, delicious cup of coffee, with a side of hot, delicious blowjob. That’s right, after you order your coffee you use an iPad to select the sex worker that you want to have give you the blowjob.  A – Would you visit this coffee shop? B – Would you get the blowjob?
If they serve good coffee, then why not? Not sure what is in it for the female customers though, unless “blowjob” in this context means having a sex worker go down on them irrespective of the gender of provider and recipient. Flip side though, the idea that (assuming it was also permitted) I could openly walk up to Master C while He is enjoying a coffee, kneel down in front of Him and then proceed to openly suck Him off in public, and no one would think it out of place, definitely ticks a lot of my “fuck yeah!” boxes.

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Juxtaposition


If you’ve indulged in any form of group-sex activity, the chances are that you have watched your partner have sex with another person. In these situations, you are either an active participant, or are watching after having been involved in your own activity, or are waiting to take you part in this, or some other activity. In any event, you are either an active participant or actively on the periphery and it’s all extremely hot and everyone (hopefully) has a great time.

An altogether different experience is when you are required to watch your partner have sex with someone else and you are not able to participate in any way, not even able to play with yourself; the only thing you can do and watch. It is a situation that, as part of our poly-circle, I have experienced on a number of occasions; bound and restrained to a chair, unable to move, unable to complain past the gag in my mouth watching as Master C pleasures and takes pleasure from one of the other women in the circle.

It’s a strange mix and mash-up of emotions to watch in such a situation. On the one hand, I am happy for Master C that he is experiencing whatever pleasure being with the other woman gives Him, but obviously it hurts that it is not me that is the source of that pleasure. I can feel joy for the woman’s pleasure, knowing how expertly Master C will use His mouth, His hands, His tongue, His cock to give her pleasure while He takes His from her, but I will still feel a sadness and envy that it is not me that is feeling those things.

As she sucks His cock, I can see from the expression on Master C’s face and the sounds that He is making, that He is enjoying her mouth and I am happy for Him that He can enjoy it; while at the same time I am frustrated that I am not the cause of those reactions.

As Master C fucks her right there, long and hard in front of me, I know exactly what she is feeling. I know how good it must be for her to be fucked by Him, but I want it to be me, I year to have Master C’s cock inside me, doing to me what He is doing to her.

When Master C feasts on her cunt, driving her to the brink of climax and holding her there, I know exactly what she is experiencing. I know what it feels like, that exquisite balance of pleasure and frustration, the intense waves of pleasure and the urgent need for release. I am happy for her, I empathise with her, I sympathise with her, and I also hate her, because it should be me being held mercilessly on the edge waiting for release, not her. Master C should be feasting on me, driving me wild. I know He is enjoying the taste of her cunt, I know He is savouring her response to the expert application of His tongue. I know she is enjoying it. And I so want it to be me.

When at last, Master C comes, showering her skin with a thick load of His lovely, thick cum, I can rejoice in His climax, and yet feel an emptiness that His load was not my reward but hers.

The whole experience, for me, is one of frustration and humiliation, and yet, I am extremely turned on. My cunt is wet, I squirm uncomfortable in my bindings against the hard wooden seat below my naked buttocks.

The other woman’s partner unties me, and beckons me to join him. Master C instructs the other woman to take my place on the chair before proceeding to gag and bind her, just as I had been gagged and bound just moments before.

I kneel before the other man, take His cock in my mouth. Now it is her turn to watch and suffer.

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A taste for things that come


I gave my first blow-job at the tender age of 14. It was kind of a special “present” to my then boyfriend on his 15th birthday. Despite have discussed the subject with one of my girlfriends who had had quite a bit of experience in the art of sucking cocks (note the plural), I really didn’t have much of a clue what I was doing; I sucked and licked and worked my lips up and down his shaft until, with very little in the way of warning, he blew his load in my mouth. Luckily for me, it was also my boyfriend’s first experience of a blow-job, so he had nothing to compare it with, but it was clear that he had enjoyed my attentions and, on the evidence of how wet my cunt was, I’d definitely enjoyed my part in the proceedings too. I’ve mentioned before that in the more than 30 years that have elapsed since that day, I’ve lost count of the number of cocks that I’ve had in my mouth, but that first one was the one that made me realise that sucking a guy off was just as much something for me as it was for the recipient.

One of the most important lessons that I’ve learned is that communication is key. If you want to give a cock a really good blow-job, or give a cunt a good tongue lashing, it’s listen to what the recipient wants and likes. No two cocks or cunts are identical in terms of what elicits the maximum amount of pleasure, so, if in doubt, ask. Also, listen; not just to what someone tells you in words, but also what their body tells you in terms of responses. Learn to identify what the gasps, sighs and moans mean, store away the things that made them flinch and shake. This applies equally to whether its a cock or a cunt that you are pleasuring. The more familiar you are with your partner’s body and how they respond to pleasure, the more you learn their sexual “tells”, the more you can concentrate on giving them the best head they’ve ever had.

Another thing I’ve learned, is that when it comes to licking a cunt, women aren’t intrinsically better at it than men. The idea behind this is that those of us with cunts know how we like to have them pleasured, so we should find it easier to pleasure others. This is, of course, nonsense. As I’ve written before, the only cunt whose responses I know with absolute certainty, is my own; and as I’ve already pointed out, what works for my cunt is not guaranteed to work for anyone else’s.  So, again, communication is key. Another tip I learned, was when having sex with another woman for the first time, try to arrange things so they go down on you first as they way they eat you will probably give you an indication of how they like to be eaten. Of course, if you go first, you’re the one giving tips and pointers to what you want when the time comes for the tables to be turned, so there is no right or wrong. The point is, the person who is feasting on your nether regions isn’t psychic, so unless there is a long familiarity with what you like, don’t be afraid to let them know. Help them to give you the tongue-lashing you want and need.

For me, as a submissive woman, one of the things I love about sucking cock is the sense of “empowerment” it gives me. When I’m sucking a cock, it is me that is doing, not being done to; I am giving them pleasure, my talents and abilities are going to be the reason they come, and their load of cum in my mouth is my reward for doing it to the best of my ability. Sucking cock is the way I give pleasure, rather than have it taken from me; I am providing pleasure, not being used for it. I suspect that this is the biggest reason for why I will try to find any excuse to end up with Master C’s in my mouth; I love being responsible for His orgasm and knowing that I am the reason for His climax.

Of course, sometimes, Master C will take His pleasure from my mouth; a mouth and throat is just as capable of being fucked as a cunt or arse. When Master C tips my head back and fucks me roughly in the throat, there is something about this that is deliciously filthy, that ticks my slut boxes, that reminds me that I am there for Him to be used

Over 30 years of using my mouth has taught me many things; how to use it to give pleasure, how to let it be used for pleasure, and how to fully enjoy both. Those are lessons that, in order to be Master C’s  slut and dutiful submissive, I definitely need to learn.

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All in my mind (for now…)


I spend a lot of time “in my own head”. In a way, this post follows on from the posts I did for both the Creative and Fantasy prompts of the previous weeks.

Obviously, I spend a lot of time engaging in sexual activity, either with Master C or on my own. The opportunities for me to be having sex outside of these parameters currently do not exist, although there is just the faintest glimmer of hope that things might not be quite as restrictive soon.

So, while I can’t actually have sex with “The Girl” or “The Other Guy” or some drunken random, that doesn’t mean I can’t imagine it.

I have, lately, spent a lot of time trying to imagine that it will be like when I finally get to meet my other lovers in person again.

With “The Other Guy”, I suspect it’ll be much like sex with Master C, albeit without the discipline and, given how long it has been since we last fucked, much more urgency. I like to imagine him deciding which of my holes he wants to get reacquainted with first. Does he want to feel my lips wrap around his shaft as I slide them along his length, taking the head of his cock deep into the back of my throat? Is his need to fuck me so great that he simply bends me over, hitches up my skirt or yanks down my jeans, pulls the gusset of my knickers aside and plunges straight into my cunt; gripping my hips as he fucks me long and hard? Does he want the tightness of my arse; to stretch and hurt me as he fucks me? What position does he want me in? On my back so that he can pin me beneath him? Bent over the table or the arm of a chair? On my knees, my boobs swinging free beneath me as he takes me hard? Will he fuck me in the living room? Will me make it upstairs to his bedroom? Will he just take me there on the stairs in the hall; items of clothing scattered at our feet as our bodies become reacquainted.

With “The Girl” it will be different. It will still be urgent, but it will be slower, softer. We will take our time as we slowly rediscover each other’s bodies with our lips, our fingers, our tongues. Our lips will kiss, our fingers will explore, our hands will caress, our cunts will ache with the desire to feel each other’s tongues. Nipples will stiffen as they are licked, kissed and bitten. Moans will fill the room as fingers slip between labia and into cunts. Backs will arch as tongues reconnect with clits. We will tease each other, take each other to the edge, let the tension build into an exquisite pain before allowing our climaxes to ignite. And then, after the glow of our reunion slowly wears off, we will do it again.

As for randoms, well that kind of depends very much on when pubs are allowed to reopen and at what time of the evening they turf us out, but I can imagine myself in some alleyway, on my knees, sucking hungrily on the cock of my chosen object of lust. Devouring him until he comes down my throat. I can picture myself standing in some hidden doorway, bracing myself as some unknown man fucks me urgently from behind. I can feel the intensity as I struggle to remain silent lest my moans draw unwanted attention to our furtive fucking. I can sense the thrill of hearing voices nearby and wondering if we will be discovered.

All of these things play out in my mind when Master C leaves me to my own devices, allowing me to spend time with my toys and/or fingers. For now, these events, these encounters, these “indiscretions” that will allow me to encounter Master C’s rightful chastisement can  only happen in my imagination. I hope, however, that one day soon, the can start to become a reality once again.

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