Meditations on submission

The “No True Way” prompt this week is:

Spend some time every day meditating on your submission, even if you can only spend 15 minutes or so.

Now, this got me thinking.

I’m a great believer in meditation and it is something I will make the time to do every day. When I meditate, however, I’m not really thinking about anything at all. If anything, it’s quite the reverse and I am consciously emptying my mind of thought, just focussing on the moment, counting my breaths, or my heartbeats, or, if I’m outdoors, just listening to the sounds of nature around me. The whole point of meditation is to clear my mind, not to make it examine something.

So, the simple answer to the prompt is that I do not meditate on my submission. The simple fact is that my submission is so deeply ingrained into who I am that it is something I don’t really need to consider. I’ve written before about how, for me, my submission is both conscious and unconscious; how it is who I am, even when I am simply going about my everyday life. My submission is active when I am doing something at Master C’s behest, e.g. when I am undertaking a task, when I am being disciplined, when we are ducking; but it is also passive in that I am still submissive when I am at work, or when I’m shopping, or even when I’m asleep.

But sex, and my submission, can themselves be meditative. Nothing restores my equilibrium than a toe-curling, back-arching, strength-sapping orgasm or too. When I’m fucking, the only thing in my mind is how it feels and how it makes me feel. When I’m sucking cock, the only thing I’m concentrating on is the cock that I’m sucking and the pleasure I am giving. When Master C’s belt is lashing my skin, it is also cleansing my mind. For me, pain is a great restorative; it provides me with a reset.

And that brings me to the most meditative aspect of my submission, and that is when Master C takes me to that place known as subspace. It’s that sweet spot where pain and pleasure combine to take me out of myself. It is a timeless, transcendental state where my submission becomes a total surrender; I am no longer in my body, I become a personification of sensation.

Sometimes my need is overwhelming. I need to be broken down and rebuilt. The most powerful and deepest state of subspace is when Master C takes me to this particular level, when nothing is “off limits”, when He uses the freedom to do whatever He pleases to me to its fullest; banishing my demons and satisfying my darkest desires and needs.

So, while I don’t meditate on my submission, my submission often does transport me into what can only be described as a meditative state that restores and enriches my body, mind and soul.

It’s what I needed

I’m on my knees, bent forward, face pressed against the floor, my wrists bound behind my back. “The Other Guy’s” cock pounds my arsehole, and it feels so good to be being used so roughly by him.

It’s been a couple of months since we last saw and fucked each other. Life gets in the way sometimes. We are making up for lost time.

I’ve already sucked him off; taking a deliciously large load of cum in my mouth; savouring it before swallowing it down. He repaid the compliment by eating me to a series of shuddering orgasms; each one more intense and more draining than the last.

We’ve already fucked twice, the first with him on top, pounding my cunt, hitting me hard, pinning me to the bed with each thrust. Taking me. Using me. Fucking me. The second time was more leisurely; with me on top this time; riding his cock with carefree abandon, impaling myself on those wonderfully thick, hard inches. Him, content to let me do all the work. Me, happy to just let him lie back while I use his cock for my enjoyment.

I cam both times; both as the rider and the ridden; both times savouring the feeling of my cunt tightening and contracting around his cock – those oh so familiar inches of him inside me that feel so different from those of Master C.

The first time, he pulled out and came all over my boobs, then proceeded to rub his cum into their skin as he licked my cunt until he elicited yet another shuddering climax. The second time, I slid off and took him in my mouth, savouring the taste of my cunt in his shaft as I sucked him to a climax.

We rested, cuddled together, using the time to refamiliarise ourselves with each others bodies. Hands exploring, stroking, caressing. Lips kissing; bodies responding.

And now, here I was, being taken again. There was none of the tenderness we’d shared earlier; this time it was raw, it was rough. It had a different kind of urgency to our earlier sexual collisions. Those had been driven from the need to be with each other, the need to feel each other, the need to use and be used by each other. This time it was driven by the need to make the most out of our remaining time. Soon, I would return home to Master C, to tell Him what I had done, to receive whatever punishment it was determined was appropriate for my actions, to pay the price and then to perform whatever acts of contrition I felt would atone for what I was doing now and had already done.

That was still in the future, however; in the now, “The Other Guy” was fucking my firmly and relentlessly in the arse; having declared he needed the extra tightness if he was going to be able to come once more.

As his cock pounded my back passage, I urged him on. “Fuck my arse!” I cried, “Use it! Fuck it! Fuck it hard!”

He grabbed the restraints around my wrists and pulled sharply, lifting my head and upper body from the floor.

“Filthy slut!” he groaned. “Dirty slut who loves getting her arse fucked hard!”

“Yes!” I moaned. “I’m a filthy slut! I love the way you fuck my arse!”

He released my wrists and let me fall forward to the floor again. Grabbing my hips, he pounded harder, his balls slapping against my cunt with every stroke.

“I’m going to come on your arse! I’m going to paint your arse cheeks with my cum!”

“Oh yes, please! I love that!”

The relentless pounding continued and then, suddenly, he was gone. I experienced a wrenching momentary sensation of emptiness and then the sticky warmth of his load as it landed on my skin.

My afternoon with “The Other Guy” was over. My evening atoning for it with Master C was still to come. I was ready to face whatever penalty was required of me. An afternoon spent with “The Other Guy” had, as it so often did, started the process of restoring a certain equilibrium within me, and now it was time for me to return to Master C to complete the process.

Walking on air

First, the rope goes taut, as the slack is taken up, then it begins to tighten. The rough weave presses into the skin of my neck, squeezing tighter until the limiter is reached. Master C smiles at me, giving me a few moments to contemplate my circumstances, before he continues..

Another turn of the handle. My heels rise and I balance on the balls of my feet. The rope digs in. It’s uncomfortable, but I can breath.

Master C walks over to me. He puts a hand between my thighs, slides His middle finger between my labia. I squirm; my toes struggling for purchase on the raised blocks beneath them. His finger slides up inside me; I’m amazed at how easily it enters me, how wet I am. Master C skips His finger from my cunt and presses it to my mouth. “Taste yourself!” He demands, “Taste how much you are enjoying this.”

I comply, savouring the rich flavour of my essence on His finger. Master C is right; despite the discomfort, despite the difficulty to breath, I am enjoying this most exquisite form or torture.

He returns to the handle. Another couple of ratchet clicks; I am pulled imperceptibly higher. Stood, as I am, feet apart on blocks, my toes barely maintain contact. If one leg goes, if one foot loses that most tenuous of holds with the block beneath it, the other will inevitably follow. The rope cannot go any tighter, but still it digs in as it takes more of my weight.

Another click, and yet another. Somehow, I don’t know how, I maintain contact. Again Master C smiles; again He approaches me. The anticipation builds; becomes unbearable.

He touches me. The gentlest of contacts, almost as if a butterfly caressed my clit. That touch is my undoing. I flinch. As I flinch, my left foot breaks contact with the block beneath it. Unbalanced, my right foot is pulled from the dubious support of its block. My feet come together, scant inches above the ground, but above it they are; there is air between me and the safety of the floor.

The rope digs in as I hang there, pressing against the front of my neck, putting pressure on my windpipe. I can breath, but only just as my feet sway above the ground, like a pendulum.

Mere seconds passed, before Master C lowered me to safety. Seconds that seemed like an eternity as I hung there, suspended, helpless, entirely at the mercy of gravity, dependent on the limiter to prevent the rope from tightening fully.

The relief as the rope was loosened was almost orgasmic; the euphoric intensity of that first, deep, unrestricted breath was as intense as any climactic release. Master C held me tight as, with racing heart and almost hyperventilating, my body shook.

Later, Master C skilfully brought me to climax with His tongue; then lay back and let me ride Him with a carefree abandon until I came again and He unloaded inside me.

All in all, it was a hugely intense experience. I suspect I’m going to need to wear a scarf or polo-neck for the next few days though.

Suspended

Sometimes, I like to take things to extremes. Sometimes I like to go that little bit further, have things turn that bit darker. This was one of those occasions.

The suspension frame is something that Master C and I use fairly frequently. Most often, I will be gagged, my nipples will be clamped, my wrists will be cuffed and the hook will be fastened around the cuffs. Master C will then slowly turn the handle until my hands are pulled above my head. He will keep turning as it begins to pull my arms tighter. My heels lift from the ground, then the balls of my feet, and then, finally, my toes will break what little contact the had with the floor, and I am hanging freely above the ground.

At this point, it isn’t uncommon for Master C to apply the flogger liberally to my back and buttocks. The combination of pain in my arms, taking my weight, and the pain from being soundly flogged is a heady mix and Master C expertly draws the scenario out, maximising my pain, my discomfort and, ultimately, my enjoyment, before bringing me safely down, only to be tied to His “workbench” and fucked soundly.

On other occasions the cuffs will be around my ankles, my wrists bound tightly to my thighs. Master C raises me, suspending me upside down until my face is level with His groin. At this point, He takes my head in His hands and fucks me firmly in the mouth, making me cough and splutter, my saliva trickling down my cheeks, up my nose and into my eyes.

He fucks me roughly, then, just at the end, He pulls out and sends His load over my neck and face, where it mixes with the saliva from my mouth, making a delightfully degrading mess.

This time, however, we did something different. We did something that I’ve been fantasising about for some time and finally was brave enough to try.

On my knees before him, Master C commands me to suck Him off. I do so diligently, paying close attention to His instructions, changing my pace, moving my attention to the head, sucking harder then more slowly. I comply with His every command and am rewarded with a thick load of cum to savour then swallow.

Then it begins.

The clamps are applied to my nipples and tightened as far as they can go. Pain shoots through me, but it’s a pain we both know I can endure. My wrists are hog-tied to my thighs. The thick cords of the rope dig into my skin. Master C lifts my hair and tightens my collar a couple of stays. Not so tight that I can’t breath, but tight enough that it digs uncomfortably into the skin of my neck. He kisses me, gives my arse a playful swat and leads me to the frame.

There are no cuffs this time; I am not being raised by my wrists nor by my ankles.

“Ready?” He asks.

I nod.

“You know the signals?”

Again, I nod.

“OK then,” He says.

Master C slowly feeds the hook of the suspension cord under my collar before clipping it back on itself. He walks towards the winding handle. I manage a nervous smile as He begins to turn it.

It seems like an age passes as the slack is taken up but then I feel the slight tug of resistance. I feel a pull against my neck as the cord goes taut and starts to pull.

I close my eyes and breathe deeply. My feet begin to raise, slowly. Master C watches me intently as He turns the handle, watching for any sign that He needs to stop.

I’m on the tips of my toes; still in contact with the ground, but only just. My collar digs into my neck. A rush of anticipation shoots through me.

Suddenly I’m free; there is air between my feet and the ground. The leather of my collar bites into my neck as I am suspended by it. Master C, having locked the handle, walks towards me, flogger in hand.

Dangling, I squirm as He fingers my cunt. I’m surprised by how wet I am. My neck aches, but soon a now, stronger pain engulfs me as the fingers of the flogger caress my arse.

Six lashes; that was what we’d agreed before embarking on this. After every lash, Master C would check to see how I was before delivering the next. The tightness of the collar around my neck prevented me from giving full voice to the pain as the flogger bit my arse cheeks.

Tears ran down my cheeks as Master C flogged me. Despite my predicament, my cunt was incredibly wet. When, after the final caress of the flogger, Master C touched my clit with the buzzing head of my wand, I came instantly; legs kicking and flailing wildly, increasing the pressure on my neck.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Master C lowered me to the ground. I was still coming as He bent me over and fucked me hard, His hand gripping my collar and pulling my head back sharply as He drove His cock into me with long, hard strokes of His wonderful cock until He released inside me.

It was, an intense experience. Watching back the video He made of it turned me on intensely. There was something about watching myself, essentially strung up by the neck, helpless as Master C tortured me, my legs kicking wildly in the air in the aftermath of my climax, that ticks an awful lot of my “Fuck yeah!” boxes. Having done it once, it is definitely something I want to do again. A part of me wants to have the cord itself around my neck, but that is possibly something that will stay firmly in the realm of fantasy, for now at least.

Breakfast time fun

I’m pottering about in the kitchen doing my best (but not very good) impression of an early morning domestic goddess. Master C comes up behind me, wraps His arms around my waist and kisses me on that spot where the back of my neck meets my shoulders. It is a kiss with intent. He could have kissed me anywhere else if it was “just” a kiss, but when He kisses me there, He knows exactly how I will react.

I moan and press back against Him. He kisses me again, His hands sliding up under my nightshirt, as he cups and squeezes my boobs, teasing my nipples with His thumbs.

I can feel the firmness of His cock as I squirm against Him.

His right hand detaches itself from my boob and strokes the inside of my thigh, up under my hem of my nightshirt, moving the gusset of my knickers aside. Master C can feel how wet He has already made me.

“You want my cock inside you, don’t you?” He asks.

“Yes Sir, I do.”

“You want me to fuck you?”

“I do Sir, very much.”

“You’re a cock-hungry little slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes Sir, I am!”

He slaps my arse. “Say it!” Master C commands.

“I’m your cock-hungry little slut, Sir?”

“And what do you want?”

“I want your cock inside me, Sir. I want you to fuck me with your lovely thick cock.”

His fingers find their way to my mouth. I taste myself on them and it turns me on even more.

The head of Master C’s cock presses against my entrance. I long for Him to thrust it deep up inside me, but instead He teases me, flicking the head between my folds and over my clit.

I begin to whimper. His hand slaps down hard on my arse. “Silence!” He commands as He continues to tease me. I struggle to comply.

My cunt is on fire. My legs tremble with pent up frustration and anticipation as He torments me, first with the head of His cock, then with His fingers. Again and again I am made to taste myself, and each time the flavour is subtly different, evidence of my increased arousal.

Finally Master C grabs a handful of my hair and pulls my head sharply back. “I’m going to fuck you now,” He says. The head of His cock presses against my opening. It slides in so easily. Slowly, He fills me, letting me savour every delicious inch of His cock before He begins to thrust.

There is no slow, gentle build up; from the very first stroke Master C fucks me with an animal intensity. One hand squeezes my boobs as the other squeezes my neck.

“You… like… it… like… this… Don’t you… slut? He asks, each word punctuated with a hard, forceful thrust.

“Oh yes!” I gasp, “I love how you’re fucking me.” And it’s true, I love the roughness, I love the feeling of being taken, being used by Master C for His pleasure.

“What are you?” He asks.

“I’m a cock-hungry slut!” I reply, “I’m your cock-hungry slut.”

“You want my cum, don’t you?”

“Yes! Oh yes! I want your cum!”

Master C yanks my head back by my hair again. His body collides against me. The corner of the kitchen worktop cuts into the front of my thighs as he forces me against it. I feel the first flickers of my climax ignite.

“May I come, Sir?” I ask.

“Soon,” He replies, “When I say.”

He continues to fuck me. It’s a relentless, merciless pounding and I’m loving every second, every thrust, every collision of His body into mine. The pressure inside me builds and I sense the pressure in Him to. His hands now grasping my Hips, pulling me on to Him as He pushes hard inside me.

I whimper with frustration as I struggle to hold back; the need for release now burning through every nerve.

Finally Master C relents. “You may come now,” He growls.

I let go. the dam breaks, my climax rips through me and, in that instant, I feel Him release inside me.

When He pulls out, Master C sits on one of the kitchen chairs and commands me to clean Him. I turn, approach and drop to my knees. Taking His cock in my mouth, I savour the mixed flavours of us as I comply with His command.

His cum dribbles into my knickers as I make Him His coffee and prepare some toast. We both know that, intense as the orgasm He had given me was, I will need more. He leaves for work, and I am left with the instruction that I must wait until after lunch until I can relieve myself further. It was a very long morning.

Keeping it simple

I write a lot about the D/s side of my relationship with Master C. For that reason you’d be forgiven if you thought my sex-life was all kink, pain, swinging, thrashings, clamps, plugs, facials, humiliation and degradation, and just generally all things pertaining to being a masochistic submissive slut.

Now, while it’s true that all of things listed above are major parts of what goes into making me the sexual being that I am, and while they are all hugely important to the way I express myself and have my needs met sexually, and, while I’m certain those are the details that most of my readers find most “interesting”, the truth is that the majority of the sex I have is, actually, pretty “ordinary”; it’s the kind of sex that even the most “vanilla” of readers would be able to relate to.

At the end of the day, sex is one of the many forms of intimacy that exist within a relationship. While, for Master C and I, it often contains a BDSM element, albeit to a greater or lesser degree, often it is just that expression of physical intimacy; the ultimate closeness of two bodies enjoying each other.

Take this morning, for example. I woke to feel, as I almost always do, Master C’s body spooned firmly behind mine. I could feel His early morning hardness. His arms around me, His hands cupped my boobs, His thumbs slowly stroking their surface.

I wriggled my bum against Him to let Him know I was awake. He kissed my neck, His thumb brushed my nipple; I moaned softly as my body started to respond.

At some point in the proceedings, I turned to face Him, stroking His cock as we kissed and caressed. I slid down under the sheets and took His cock in my mouth; teasing Him, tasting Him, turning Him on.

I move back up, and Master C fingers my cunt as He teases my nipples with His lips and tongue. I grind my hips, driving His fingers deeper inside me as the sensations increase the pressure inside me.

From there the scene shifts and Master C is above me, His cock poised, ready to slide into me. Delicious long seconds pass before He rocks His hips, entering me slowly, but firmly; letting me savour every inch as His cock fills me.

We fuck. At first slowly; both of us savouring each stroke and thrust. Hands stroke skin; He brushes a lock of hair from my face as He moves to kiss me; my hands caress His arse as He moves inside me.

A change of position; Master C thrusts harder. His body becomes tense as mine becomes more fluid. Each stroke, firm, measured, controlled. Each downward thrust of His hips met with an upward tilt of mine. His head dips; teeth fasten around one nipple, the other pinched between His fingers.

We roll over and I ride His cock with carefree abandon; impaling myself on His hardness. His hands cup and press my boobs together, His lips and tongue tease my nipples. I grind myself down firmly against Him. I ride Him until my orgasm is triggered, its energy pulsing through me.

We roll over again. Master C takes me hard and fast. His body collides with mine. A rhythmic “slap”, “slap”, “slap” echoes as His skin connects with mine.

I close my eyes as I come again; gentler this time, but sill wonderfully intense. Master C’s breathing becomes increasingly laboured. The staccato movements of His hips become increasingly urgent. The tender, caring, loving partner has been replaced by a male in full rut; the primal savage Has once again been release.

These are the moments I love most; those moments where Master C loses Himself in the act of fucking, those moments where He is a slave to His most basic urges; He is no longer fucking me, He is simply fucking, driven by the need to release.

A groan, a final surging thrust, that briefest, almost imperceptible moment, and then His cum begins to fill me. Shorter, shallower thrusts, each followed by a smaller release of His essence inside me.

Spent, Master C slumps on to me, squashing me beneath Him. We lie there, me holding Him as He returns from His primal possession.

His hand once again strokes the hair from my face. A kiss and a smile. Master C slowly pulls out and rolls on to His back. I roll on to my side, kiss His cheek and snuggle against Him as His cum starts to ooze from my cunt. We lie there together until it is time to get up, or we decide to do it again.

This morning, we did it again; and it was even better…

His orgasm

The topic under discussion on No True Way this week is:

“It is a submissive’s responsibility to make sure the dominant (always) reaches orgasm.“

Now, I’ve touched on responsibilities before, and my view is that both the Dominant and the submissive have responsibilities to each other; how these responsibilities are discharged in practice will, naturally, depend very much on the nature of the D/s dynamic that is in place.

When it comes to Master C’s orgasm, I tend to disagree with the above. That isn’t to say that the statement is wrong, per se, it’s just that it doesn’t fit with how we do things.

Now, granted, there will be times when the task (and therefore the responsibility) of bringing Master C will be mine. For example, when I am giving Him a blow-job. In such a case, I am using my mouth (and, possibly hands) to excite and arouse Him, to pleasure Him and, when the time is right, to provide for His release. Ultimately, in this situation, when Master C comes, it is entirely down to me and what I have done. The only thing Master C has needed to do is to be there, sit/lie back, and have His cock sucked; everything else is down to me. It’s probably one of my most frequent “tasks” and it is one that I always apply myself to diligently, and with relish. Having my mouth filled with Master C’s hot, thick cum is a reward I will never tire of working to achieve.

In pretty much any other circumstance, however, Master C’s orgasm pretty much takes care of itself. When He fucks me, He will come. My responsibility, as much as it can be described as one, is merely to provide the means by which Master C achieves orgasm. My responsibility is to be at His disposal should He desire to use my body fir His gratification and satisfaction. My mouth/throat, my cunt and my arse are, to all intents and purposes, the tools that Master C employs to bring Himself to climax; I am there to be used. Does being is to use as He deems appropriate make me in any way responsible for the outcome of that use? Not actively, I believe. After all, if He weren’t fucking me, Master C could be fucking one of the other women in our sharing circle and the end result, i.e. His orgasm, would still be achieved.

And that, I suppose, is another factor to consider; the fact that, in being non-monogamous, I am not always involved in Master C’s orgasms. Granted, within our circle, the other women are, to a greater or lesser degree, submissive, but none of them are His submissive; I am Master C’s submissive.

Perversely, rather than me always being responsible for Master ‘s orgasm, within our particular dynamic, He is largely responsible for mine. Not entirely so, of course; I am generally free to masturbate (unless under specific instruction not to), and I have my other partners who also make me come, but when it comes to sex with Master C, I largely put my orgasm in His hands (or His mouth) and allow Him to determine not only when, but if I am permitted to come.

Dynamics are, of course, individual. This is how it works for us, but it is entirely possible that in other dynamics, the responsibility for the ensuring the Dominant partner comes, rests with the submissive and forms part of their duties towards the Dominant partner. Intellectually, I can see how this might work, but it isn’t the way our dynamic operates, and, you know what, that suits us just fine.

The perfect Friday evening

I’m on my knees. Master C’s lovely thick cock fills my cunt with deep hard strokes. Each thrust drives me forward, forcing more of Geoff’s cock into my mouth. Master C’s hands are on my hips; Geoff’s hands are on my shoulders. Their pushing and pulling is perfectly in sync, their thrusting cocks filling my cunt and mouth as they share me.

It’s the culmination; the final phase of something that started this morning when Master C sent me a text telling me we would have a “guest” this evening. It was the fulfilment of a day spent in delicious anticipation of what would happen, what was now happening. It had been a day spent with ben-wa balls in my cunt, and clamps around my nipples, heightening my arousal, but under the strictest instructions not to come.

When Master C got home from work, I thanked Him in advance for what was to come with a blow-job. It was relaxed, unhurried and I savoured the experience of sucking Him as much as He enjoyed being sucked. My cunt was soaked with arousal and anticipation by the time I swallowed down His thick warm load.

With the balls and clamps removed, I put on the lingerie that Master C had chosen for me to wear, covering it with my favourite silk kimono.

When Geoff arrived, I was required to play the perfect hostess, serving drinks and nibbles while he and Master C made small talk that occasionally touched on the important subject of what they would do to me. My anticipation and frustration were at unbearable levels when, finally, Master C beckoned me to join them.

I was in ecstasy as I allowed them to remove my kimono. I trembled as two pairs of strong hands explored my body. My bra was removed and I found myself with a mouth around each nipple. After so much anticipation and frustration, I almost came just from that simple attention.

I allowed myself to be positioned on the edge of the sofa. Geoff positioned himself between my legs, pulled the gusset of my knickers aside and began to lick. Master C reached over from behind the sofa, kissed my neck and began to play with my nipples. As He did so He whispered instructions not to come in my ear.

Time passed…

Master C and Geoff swapped places.

More time passed; they swapped again.

Every nerve in my body screamed with the need for release, but Master C did not give me permission.

My whimpers of frustration became moans. My moans coalesced into words. “Please!” I begged, “Please let me come.”

Finally Master C relented. “You may come for us now,” he said softly. My release was immediate. The air was filled with a deep moan that was torn from my mouth as Geoff’s tongue continued to flick of my clit, as Master C’s fingers tweaked and twisted my nipples. My climax tore through me. Wave after wave of orgasmic energy shook me as my cunt and womb contracted violently.

They stopped. I felt myself being lifted from the sofa, positioned on all fours. Geoff’s cock was in front of my mouth and I felt Master C slide effortlessly into me from behind. I opened my mouth and Geoff slid his cock between my lips and, in that moment, the tables turned; instead of providing for my pleasure, they were now taking theirs from me, fucking me in their chosen hole, using me like the filthy, depraved slut that I am.

In and out, over and over, their cocks filled and refilled my cunt and throat; the intensity building with each stroke.

“Filthy slut!”

“Dirty whore!”

The words sounded like insults but were really compliments, testament to my willingness to fuck and be fucked, to be used.

Master C pulled out. “Time to give my slut what she really wants,” He said.

Geoff also stopped.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Master C enquired, “Put a condom on him and get on his dick!”

Geoff lay back and I did as I was instructed to do. I slowly lowered myself on to him, aware of those slight differences that distinguished his cock from Master C’s. As I began to slide up and down, I knew what was coming. It was no surprise when I felt the cold lube being applied to my arsehole. Master C had, of course been correct; He knew exactly what I wanted; something that I’ve been craving for so long. His fingers worked the lube into my back passage and then, slowly, He pushed His cock into me.

At this point, let me, for the record, state that I have no idea how men work out how this next bit works; all I know is that from where I’m sitting, with a cock filling each hole, it feels fucking amazing.

Master C grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled my head back roughly as He fucked me in the arse. Geoff tormented my nipples with his fingers and teeth as he fucked me in the cunt from below. Between them, I was being fucked in the most depraved and slutty way possible and I was loving every second of it.

I came hard with their cocks inside me. My release was loud, as befitting the depravity of my actions, as their cocks filled me.

The fucked me until their own climaxes became inevitable. Master C pulled out first. He commanded me to dismount and adopt a kneeling position. Geoff stood up and removed the condom. Both he and Master C stood before me, stroking their cocks. “My slut deserves a cum bath,” Master C said, “A suitably filthy ending for a filthy slut.” I closed my eyes and smiled. Two men standing over me, about to paint me with their loads was exactly what I wanted and exactly what I deserved.

Geoff came first; his cum taking me square across my forehead and down my left cheek Master C followed a few seconds later, painting the other side of my face. Their cum trickled down my face and dripped on to my boobs. As a reward, I was permitted to clean Geoff’s cock with my mouth.

Afterwards, still naked, and with their cum now dried on to my skin, I resumed my duties as hostess before Master C ate me to another shuddering climax followed by Geoff fucking me again before going home.

It goes without saying that my depraved and wanton sluttiness earned my arse a sound thrashing from Master C’s belt before the evening was finally over and we retired to bed, but the evening had been worth every kiss of the leather on my buttocks.

As Friday evenings go, I can’t think of a better way to enjoy one.

Deconstruction

This week’s “No True Way” is on the subject of being broken down:

“A submissive needs to be broken down by their dominant“

It’s a subject that I have written about before, as it is definitely something that, within my dynamic with Master C, I need and rely upon Him to do. It’s not so much the need to be broken, it’s the need to be taken apart, to release whatever negative energy is keeping me down, and then to be put back together, refreshed and renewed.

For me, pain is an essential when it comes to being “reset”. Master C, being particularly attuned to me moods and their accompanying needs, is usually very good at picking up on when such a reset is needed. Sometimes however, as I’ve previously mentioned, when I need Him to know how badly it is required, I will retreat to the cage, for Him to find me. That is my way of telling Him that there are no restraints on what I am prepared to accept: the clamps around my nipples can be tightened to the absolute maximum, He can wield whatever implement of chastisement He choses to employ as often and with as much force as He deems fit, He can yank my head back by my hair as hard and as far as it will go as He fucks me, He can choke me to the point of almost passing out. In essence, when Master C finds me in the cage, He knows that I am prepared to accept anything up to the point of me resorting to our “stop signals”.

In these circumstances, it isn’t about discipline, or punishment; I haven’t failed in some task or committed some transgression. In these instances it is all about the need for release.

In part, the preparation is as much a part of it. The blindfold so I don’t know what He is going to do. The ball-gag being put in my mouth so I can’t cry out. The clamps being tightened around my nipples. Being frog0marched over to Master C’s “workbench”, being forced roughly on to its hard wooded surface that pushes the clamps on my nipples into my boobs. It’s the harsh, rope bindings around my ankles that will chafe and burn my skin as I struggle. It’s the hook in my arse with its intricate harness that allows my hair to be bound into it, and then twisted to the required tightness. and then there is the waiting before Master C decides what He is going to do.

Often, in these circumstances, His belt will serve simply as an appetiser, a warm-up; turning the cheeks of my arse a rosy red as each lash lands. He will return to my arse later, but next He will remove the ball from my mouth and fuck my face, squeezing my neck with His strong hands as His cock roughly pounds my throat.

He comes, coating my face with a thick load of cum, then picks up the cane.

It swooshes menacingly through the air as it traces an arc towards my backside. It hurts, so much more than the belt does, and so much more because the belt has already done its work.

A twist of the hook harness pulls my hair tighter, pulling my head back further. The rope burns against my ankles.

By the time Master C is finally inside me, fucking me hard from behind while pulling my arms toughly back behind me, I will have been thoroughly beaten and used. If I’m lucky, as His cock takes me, I will have slipped into that almost transcendental state of sub-space, that dissociated almost out of body state of calm, where I can almost observe what is being don to me.

I know that, whatever happens, Master C will ensure that I will begiven the release of climax before He comes again, either in my cunt or over my back.

First my orgasm, and then His, is were the restoration commences. It continues as He unbinds me. It continues as He takes me in His arms, wipes away my tears, strokes my hair. It continues as He gentle massages the soothing balm into my skin, relieving some of the burning from where the cane bit. It continues as He makes me comfortable, and pours me a glass of wine. It continues because Master C is there, He is with me, and I am His.

There are times when the need to be broken like this is fundamental; it goes right to the core of my being. Each time, however, from the ashes I am reborn. I am refreshed and rebuilt. It is one of the greatest gifts that being Master C’s submissive gives me, and one that He gives with such care.

The long and the short of it

I’ve mentioned before that blow-jobs are hugely adaptable; there is literally a blow-job for every occasion. Fast and rough, long and slow; as an appetiser, the main course or as an aperitif, there is a blow-job for that.

As always, the type of blow-job will depend on circumstances: your level of randiness, where you are and who you are with will go a long way to determining how that cock is going to get sucked. Make no mistake about it though, when I’m sucking a cock, as much as I am doing for the benefit of the recipient, I am taking great pleasure from it for myself.

At on end of the spectrum is the rough, hard, dirty quickie. Maybe it’s with some random gut who has caught my eye in a pub, maybe I’m with Master C and one or both of us is caught up in an overwhelming rush of randiness. There will often be an outdoor element to this: a dark alley, in a park, on a beach, in the car in the supermarket car park. Alternatively we may be at a party or some other kind of reception and I and the person I’m with have snuck away for a few minutes. The common theme is that there is an element of risk that we could be disturbed/caught in the act. As much as I love to luxuriate in the act of sucking cock, taking time to utilise my full range of talents and skills so that we both extract as much pleasure as we can from the experience, in these situations speed is very much of the essence. Almost as soon as the urge materialises, a (relatively) safe location is found, I am on my knees, and that cock is in my mouth.

In these instances, it is very much a sprint; there is no time for dilly-dallying, all eyes are on the prize and the prize is a thick, warm load of cum in my mouth in the least amount of time possible. There is no time for finesse, no protracted teasing or trying to make the moment last; I am sucking hard on that cock while they often have their fingers in my hair as they thrust between my lips. There is an urgency that arises in part from the initial need and desire and from the proximity to other people, people who could intrude on us at any moment. That urgency serves to increase the intensity of the experience, driving both us us towards that inevitable moment of release; that moment when the dam bursts, the cock that I am sucking erupts, rewarding me with a mouthful of that rich, manly essence.

I savour briefly, then swallow as he tucks himself away. I straighten myself up and then, depending on circumstance, we either rejoin the occasion, or we part and go our separate ways into the night.

At the other extreme, there are the slow and leisurely blow-jobs; the ones I want to wallow and luxuriate in as I give the recipient as much pleasure as they can take over a prolonged period.

An example will be in the evening, when Master C is tired after a long and stressful day at work. As He sits back on the sofa, I’ll bring Him a beer or a glass of wine. I’ll make sure He is comfortable, then kneel between His legs, release His cock from its confinement, bring Him to a state of full harness with my fingers, lips and tongue before getting down to business.

Now there are no time constraints, no fears of interruption; it’s about me using my mouth to give Him the greatest pleasure. It’s a time where I let myself be guided by His responses, the sighs and moans, the involuntary muscle spasms and twitches of His cock. I can speed up and slow down. I get to suck, lick, kiss, caress. I want Master C to enjoy this and, knowing that He is, I enjoy doing it even more.

Long experience means I can read Master C’s responses very bit as well as He can read mine. I can measure His state of arousal through the deepness of His breathing, the timbre of His moans, the twitching and swelling of His cock, the long, drawn out sighs accompanied by shudders as take advantage of His increasing sensitivity.

Whereas in the first scenario, it’s all about getting o the finish as quickly as possible, this time it’s about drawing it out for as long as I can. In the earlier scenario it is over in a matter of minutes, here it ma take half an hour or longer.

The end result in both instances is, however, exactly the same; I am rewarded for my attentions with a lovely thick load of rich, warm cum, which every cock-sucker happily accepts as recognition of a job well done.

So which do I prefer? Well, because I derive so much pleasure from serving Master C, the protracted, drawn out version definitely comes out on top. That said, the cock hungry, cum loving slut that I am, does enjoy the quick and dirty version too.

I guess, really, so long as I have a cock in my mouth and I get rewarded with a thick load of cum to swallow down, I’m ultimately going to be happy in every case.