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
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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

Punishment fucks


One of the reasons I enjoy being such a bad girl is that I love being punished. There’s something about the prospect of getting my arse well and truly paddled until the tears flow from my eyes, followed by a brutal, merciless fuck.

Fortunately for me, Master C is always ready to chastise me for my misdeeds. If I’m being brutally honest, I regularly give Him reasons for disciplining me.

Of course, the most severe, and of course deserving, punishment comes from those times that I am “unfaithful” to Him with “The Girl ” or one of my other girlfriends.

Being unable to lie to Master C, I automatically have to admit to these indiscretions, knowing full well that I will be deservedly punished for them.

Usually, I am ordered to strip, to stand there naked and vulnerable as Master C interrogates me thoroughly; gleaning ever last sordid detail of my illicit encounter. As I recount my guilt, He gives no indication of what my punishment will be. Will He let me off with nothing more than sound spanking? Will He use the the paddle with its grooves that bite into my flesh? Or will He decide that my guilt deserves nothing less than the biting kiss of His belt? There is no way of knowing until I have fully admitted my guilt. Because I’m such a depraved little slut, the very uncertainty around my punishment makes my cunt tingle.

When I have fully unburdoned, I take my position, bent over the arm of the sofa and I bite my trembling lower lip in anticipation of what is to come next.

A spanking, a paddling or a thrashing, it ultimately makes no difference. Sometimes Master C will make me count out the strokes as my arse cheeks redden and sting and tears begin to well in my eyes.

Each slap, each stroke hurts more than the last, my sobs become increasingly pain filled, my cunt grows increasingly wet.

Eventually He stops, but the punishment has not finished. Master C begins to fuck me. There is no foreplay. There is no need, my cunt is already soaked. The is no tenderness; Master C simply grabs my hips and fucks me at full force.

As He fucks me, rough and hard, Master C pulls my hair and reminds me that “The Girl” couldn’t give me what He’s giving me now; how she can’t give me a cock, she can’t fuck me, she can’t abuse my cunt or arse the way He is doing.

Of course, Master C is right; my girlfriends can’t fuck me the way He does, they can’t use my body like He does, they have no cock to fill me, stretch me, abuse me with. And, as Master C punishes me, I become grateful for His reminders, I am grateful for His cock, I am grateful that His punishment has made me realise I need a man, I need Him, to fuck me.

Suddenly His cock is withdrawn. Feeling painfully abused and empty, I kneel on the floor before him to await my final humiliation.

“Have you learned your lesson, slut?” Master C demands, slapping my face firmly, yet tenderly with His hand.

“Yes,” I sob, my eyes filled with tears once more.

Master C doesn’t ask me if this is the last time I will stray with a woman, we both know I will; to suggest otherwise would be a lie and we both know it. Instead He strokes His cock, His breathing becomes laboured until finally He erupts, covering my face in a thick load of cum.

Sitting down, Master C watches me as I gather as much of His cum as I can with my fingers before licking them clean.

As I kneel there before Him, punished, abused and humiliated, Master C smiles and gently pats the cushion beside Him, inviting me next to Him.

As I snuggle, still naked, against Him, Master C puts His arm around me and holds me tight and I know I am forgiven, until the next time.

All relationships have their “traditions”; the unburdening of my various transgressions and accepting the appropriate punishment for them is very much one of the central traditions of ours.

#WickedWednesday

Two words


“Bend over!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you ready?” He asks.

“Yes!” I sob.

I brace myself for whatever is about to come next.

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

#KinkOfTheWeek

x-Box Challenge


So, with the game installed and running on the x-Box, Master C settled back on the sofa, and I took my position kneeling between His legs. The challenge was set. My task, should I choose to accept it, was to suck Master C off as He played. The stakes, a spanking of 6 slaps for each goal He scored before He came.

To be fair, I wasn’t quite sure how to play this one; as much as I love sucking Master C’s cock, I do enjoy a good spanking.

I needed have worried; 30 seconds later, I was already a goal down. The game briefly paused, the slaps duly delivered, 3 to each cheek, and we were off again.

I returned to my task, my determination renewed. As Master C squirmed on the sofa, as much in response to the action on the screen , as to the action going on between His legs, I purposefully set about my task.

Despite a prolonged period of possession on my part, Master C scored again. Once again, my stride was broken as my punishment was duly delivered and sportingly accepted.

From then, I was content to try a holding action, but on the stroke of half-time, Master C netted His third. This time, on account of my sloppy defending,  the slaps were delivered with the paddle rather than His hand and my eyes were beginning to sting as much as my arse cheeks.

The second half got underway with a sustained period of possession and pressure from me. I could tell Master C was finding it harder to concentrate, and that wasn’t the only thing getting harder.

I pressed home my advantage. I could almost taste a breakthrough, but then, from nowhere, Master C slipped past my defence and found the net for a fourth time.

SLAP!
SLAP!
SLAP!
SLAP!
SLAP!
SLAP!

Beaten but not defeated, I started again. Master C was clearly showing the strain as I threw everything at Him, but still He held on. His movement was becoming less controlled. He was clearly struggling to maintain possession and then, finally, I broke through his defences.

His cum flooded my mouth. Thick, hot strings pooled on my tongue as His cock twitched and jerked in my mouth.

Somehow, miraculously, even as Master C scored in my mouth, He managed another goal. The final act of the match would result in me getting my arse tanned for a fifth time; but as I swallowed his load down and braced myself for His lap of honour on my arse, I decided that, on balance, it had been a fair result.

The Oral Sex Project

Coffee and cream


I bring a coffee through from the kitchen and set it down on the small table beside the sofa. “Does Sir’s cock require sucking?” I ask.

It’s a silly question really, I already know the answer. Just because I’m a cock-hungry little slut however, doesn’t mean I don’t observe the little niceties.

Master C nods and smiles. His hands move to undo his jeans.

I push them away. “No, let me,” I say as I kneel between his legs, “just sit back and enjoy.”

I unzip his jeans and reach inside. His cock is delightfully hard and it twitches in response to my touch.

I ease it from its confinement and pause to appreciate it. Long, thick, hard, with an oh so familiar pattern of veins. I stroke it gently. “I love your cock,” I say, and it’s true; those lovely inches of hardness have given me so much pleasure in our time together.

I kiss the tip. I work my lips around the head. I kiss my way down His shaft before licking it all over. I look up, catch His eye and smile before slowly taking Him into my mouth.

Master C moans; a long, deep moan that tells me more than words how much He enjoys the attention of my mouth.

Slowly, I slide my lips down, taking Him deep into my mouth, inch by marvellous inch until I bury my nose in His short clipped pubic hair. I swallow with the head lodged in the back of my throat and I am rewarded with another groan.

I start to move my head up and down, keeping a steady suction as my lips travel up and down the length of Master C‘s cock. I reach the top, I swirl my tongue around the head before working my way down to the base again.

I love the way the head of His cock moves against the roof of my mouth and presses into my throat. I love the way the thick vein on the underside feels against my tongue. I love the way His cock twitches and throbs inside my mouth. Above all, I love the noises and the involuntary movements Master C makes as my mouth works its magic and the sensations take over.

I build up the speed of my movement. I feel a hand rest on the back of my head; passive for know, but I know that will change.

His fingers begin to twine in my hair, His hips begin to rock; imperceptibly at first but becoming increasingly pronounced.

I suck harder. Master C begins to push my head down as the thrusting of His hips drives His cock into my mouth. I choke a little as I adjust to His increasingly urgent participation.

Both hands now hold my head. He begins to fuck my mouth; stabbing his cock between my lips.

His moans become louder, but more irregular. The first beads of pre-cum leak on to my tongue.

“Suck… It…Morag… Suck… It… You… Slut!” Master C gasps; each word punctuated by a jubbing thrust, “Suck… My… Fucking… Cock!”

His fingers tighten their grip on my hair. He pulls my head down, forcing me to take every inch of Him. I gasp and splutter, choking around the swollen head as Master C drives it forcefully  into the depths my throat.

He is beyond control. He fucks my mouth as roughly as He would fuck my cunt or arse. My jaw aches as Master C pounds me.

“Get… Ready… Morag… Get… Ready… To… Drink… My… Cum… You… Slut!”

I can feel the tension in His thighs. Master C pulls His cock back until only the head, swollen and angry remains in my mouth.

“Suck it Morag! Oh suck it, my sweet little, cum-hungry slut!”

I suck hard, tonguing the slit at the tip.

“Yes! Oh fuck, Yes! Yes! Oh Morag, YES!” Master C roars as He erupts.

I swallow hard. His hot cum stings the back of my throat. Again and again, jet after lovely, rich, thick jet, His cum fills my mouth. After the initial deluge I let it pool on my toungue, savouring its flavour and texture before sending it on its way.

Finally, I let His cock slip from between my lips. I sit back, look up at Him and smile. In a voice made hoarse from the punishment my throat has received, and at the risk of a spanking I cheekily say, “Don’t forget your coffee, dear.”

  The Oral Sex Project

A dirty little fantasy


A little daydream; inspired, in part, by my previous post.

While out with friends, I meet a stranger in a club or bar.

We sneak out, find some dark, out of the way alleyway, then he fucks me hard, in my mouth, pussy and arse before blowing his load over my boobs.

We return to the club/bar, go back to our respective groups of friends as if nothing has happened (although my top is sticking uncomfortably to my cum covered boobs).

We never tell each other our names.

When I get home, Master C thrashes me soundly for being an insatiable, filthy little slut before giving all three of my holes another rough and very thorough fucking and adding his load to that of the stranger’s on my skin.

I fall asleep; tired, sticky, a little tender and sore, but very VERY happy…

Blow-jobs and throat-fucks


To the uninitiated, giving a guy a blow-job and having a guy fuck your throat may seem to be pretty much the same thing. I can assure you that, to me at least, they are very different indeed. While both involve my mouth and his cock, and both usually involve me swallowing, or wearing, a load of cum, that is where the similarities end.

First there is the perspective of who is doing what and to whom.

When I’m going down on  Master C, sucking His cock, giving Him a blow-job, it is something that I am doing to and for Him. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy it, because I do, but a lot of my pleasure derives from how much pleasure I am giving Master C. Granted, as His climax approaches, Master C may grab my head, force His lovely thick cock into my mouth, fuck my face, as it were, but it is still essentially as a result of my actions; I have actively caused Him to lose control and I will be rewarded for my efforts with a nice thick load of cum in my mouth.

When Master C fucks my throat, however, it is very much something that He is doing to me. In this sense, my mouth is simply a hole to receive His cock as Master C fucks my throat the same way He would fuck my cunt or my arse. When He tilts my head back over the edge of the bed, or over the arm of the sofa and forces His cock as far down my throat as it will go, I am very much the one on the receiving end and Master C is using me entirely for his own purposes.

A blow-job as me actively giving Master C something, using my mouth to show Him how much I want/love Him. A throat-fuck is much more submissive on my part; Master C is the one using my mouth, He is the one in control.

In the same way, that when I suck His cock, Master C is trusting me to keep my teeth out of the way, when He fucks my throat, I am trusting Him not to go too far, not to hurt me too much.

Now, which I want depends on my mood; which I receive, depends on His. When I’m giving Master C a blow-job, I get to savour His cum in my mouth before swallowing it down; when Master C is fucking my throat, His cum is shot directly down my throat, often bypassing my tastebuds.

A good blow-job gives me a warm feeling of control. It is a sensual pleasure, where I use my skills to bring Master C to climax.

A good throat-fucking will leave my throat raw, my jaw aching, tears streaming from my eyes and a delicious feeling of having been used.

I wonder which I’ll be doing/getting tonight?

#Masturbation Monday The Oral Sex Project

Force feeding


Master C tilts my head back, grips my neck and forces His cock down my throat. This isn’t a blow-job, I am not in control; Master C is fucking my throat and using me for His pleasure.

It is rough, it is hard, it hurts my throat, it makes my jaw ache, I choke, tears well up in my eyes, I am being used and I fucking love every second, every thrust; from the first moment when Master C pushes his cock between my lips until the moment when I am choking down His cum.

I love being helpless. I love being utterly at His mercy. I love how uncomfortably wet my count becomes as Master C takes me as He pleases, using my mouth and throat as simply another hole to fuck and take His pleasure from. I am powerless, restrained, unable to resist Him, even if I wanted to; and I don’t. I am His to be owned; used as Master C chooses.

The head of His cock plugs my throat. His hand tightens around my neck. Breathing is almost impossible. Master C tells me that I am “a filthy slut” and He slaps my face hard as He fucks it.

I can taste Him… I can read the tell-tale signs…

“Filthy slut!”

“Dirty whore!”

Each word accompanied by a slap to my face; a thrust of His lovely cock in my throat. Each word reminding me of my place; a confirmation of my belonging to Him.

My cunt aches almost as much as my mouth.

Master C pulls out abruptly, and then I feel it; His warmth exploding over my skin. His cum trickles over my face, down my neck, over my boobs. I long to be able to rub it into my skin, to gather it in my fingers and taste it.

Master C unties my hands, strokes my hair. “Good girl” He whispers as He kisses me softly on the lips that, mere seconds before, were being abused by His cock.

I am His slut, and I am content in the knowledge that I have served Him well.
The Oral Sex Project