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.

Degrees of punishment

In the Kink of the Week introduction, Molly talks about the separation of “punishment and faux-punishment aka funishment into two separate topics”. Now, I kind of see the distinction, but I’m not so sure it’s quite as clear cut as that.

So, when we talk about “funishment”, I suspect we are looking at the “Oh, look what I did tee hee, I’ve been ever such a bad girl and need to be spanked, tee hee” somewhat reminiscent of a 1970’s Carry On film, or saucy seaside postcard type scenario, whereupon the submissive finds themselves across their Dominant’s knee and get their arse (bare or otherwise) playfully swatted before being admonished with a “don’t let me catch you doing that again, young lady” kind of scenario (please note I am writing this from the perspective of me being the one getting their arse tanned, please use your own identity descriptors where relevant).

I will admit, I regularly engineer situations that result in me ending up in just that position, i.e. bare arsed, over Master C’s knee and getting my arse cheeks turned a rosy red by whichever means He deems fit. Now, yes, this is intended as fun; I enjoy being spanked, but Master C will only ever dispense discipline, even in “fun” situations, if I give Him a genuine reason to do so. It’s one of His things, but He will never hurt me without there being a reason for it being necessary, so if I want to feel His hand or belt, or some other implement on my arse, I have to do something to merit it, however playfully intended it may be.

Effectively, what this means is that even when done primarily in a fun way, in the context of our relationship and our dynamic, they are still punishments, albeit minor ones for minor infringements. Further, knowing my tolerance for and enjoyment of pain, Master C doesn’t hold back when delivering admonishment in these cases. He may not reduce me to tears, but my arse will definitely sting after any form of corporal punishment He applies.

But this brings us to the crux of the matter. I’ve mentioned this before, but within the context of our dynamic, we tend to speak less of punishments and more of consequences. Transgressions on my part require me at accept the consequences of my actions, and those consequences and the level and method of discipline are determined to be appropriate to the scale of my misdemeanour.

By way of example, simple disobedience on my part may, depending on what I’ve done, result in a spanking, or the punishment may be that I am not permitted to come for a particular period. Sometimes the orgasm deprivation is made worse by the fact that, rather than edging me Himself, Master C will instruct me to essentially edge myself and deprive myself of orgasm.

Another example may be that misbehaving with a member of our sharing circle might result in some form of humiliation, e.g. being required to wear Master C’s, or some other member of the group’s cum on my face while performing services for our guests, or it could result in me being bound to a chair in the corner and having to watch, but not participate in a group activity.

Meeting up with “The Other Guy” without first informing Master C may earn me a moderate thrashing with His belt, sucking off and/or fucking one or more random guys on a night out is more likely to earn me a caning.

We don’t have a fixed tariff of punishments, and it is always the case that, as a rule, unless I have displeased Him beyond measure, I will always be required to suggest what I believe an appropriate degree of sanction will be. Master C may agree with my assessment, or He may not. If He does not, His own assessment may mean a harsher or more lenient level of correction than the one I initially proposed. For my very worst transgressions, the ultimate sanction is, of course, the cage.

The point of all this is that, for us, punishment is never simply arbitrary; I am not going to get thrashed mercilessly for not bringing Master C a cup of coffee in a timely manner. Similarly, being involved in a drunken threesome with two complete strangers is never just going to earn me a gentle paddling of my backside. For us, discipline/punishment has to be, to a degree, transactional; there has to be a degree of appropriateness where the punishment is befitting of the behaviour being punished.

The problem lies in the fact that, ultimately, I never actually learn my lesson. At a very deep level, I not only enjoy the kiss of Master C’s belt, the caress of the flogger or the bite of the cane, I yearn for it. For me, even the harshest form of discipline is itself a form of funishment; which ultimately makes it impossible for me to truly separate the two.

Cocksucking confessions

I absolutely couldn’t, even if my life depended on it, tell you exactly how many cocks I’ve sucked. I can absolutely guarantee that there are two that I have sucked, more than any other than any others, and that I still suck both of them at every opportunity that I can and those are, of course, the cocks belonging to Master C and “The Other Guy”. Those two are pretty obvious. Then, of course, there was the cock belonging to my first proper (read sexual) boyfriend, then, of course, there was my bastard, cheating ex, and there were a couple of guys that weren’t boyfriends but were regular “fuck buddies” during my student years.

After that, it all tends to get a bit murky. There are the male participants in our “Sharing Circle” for starters. Then there were the numerous casual encounters of my late teens and early 20s, where I licked, sucked and fucked my way through a swathe of the student population. There were the cocks I sucked when on holiday abroad, where almost no night out was complete without a post-nightclub blow-job and fuck. Then there were the guys I sucked off when I was between relationships, the additional guys I sucked off while I’ve been in relationships, and the guys I’ve sucked while they have been in relationships. Even today, there are still the occasional random, drunken blow-jobs in back alleys. I’ve said it before, but it’s worth repeating, the times that I am at my happiest, generally involve me having my lips wrapped around a penis at some point during the proceedings.

Why is this? Well, as I’ve mentioned before, I love the sense of empowerment I, as a submissive woman, get through giving head. I love the fact that when a man comes in my mouth, that it is almost certainly entirely down to me (possibly with whatever he is visualising in his mind while I am sucking him, helping him along). For me, knowing that the pleasure he is experiencing is entirely down to what I am doing is deeply gratifying. On top of all this, I love the fact that it’s something that I can do pretty much anywhere and at any time; I don’t need to get undressed, I simply need to unzip/unbutton him, take him in my mouth then tuck him away safely when I’m done.

Of course, not every blow-job will result in me receiving a mouthful of cum. Sometime the blow-job will stop before that point so that the recipient of it can fuck me in the cunt or arse. Sometimes Master C might decide I am not worthy of such a reward and will, instead, unload over my face or boobs. That, of course, is His right and I accept it gladly and, given my whole degradation and humiliation thing, I actually treat such an ending as almost as much of a reward as I do when He fills my mouth with a thick load of cum to savour before swallowing it down hungrily.

With Master C, sucking His cock forms part of my service and devotion to Him. I suck His cock to help Him unwind and relax. I suck His cock to give Him pleasure and, in doing so, bring myself pleasure. I suck His cock when He commands me to do it. I suck His cock when He lets me suck it (and pine for it when He doesn’t). I suck His cock as a means of atoning for misdeeds and transgressions. I suck His cock when He deems it is an appropriate reward. Sometimes, I suck His cock simply because He has one and I want to suck it. Sometimes it can be foreplay, sometimes it can be an event in its own right. The simple fact is, whatever the reason I find myself with Master C’s cock in my mouth, you can absolutely, 100% guarantee that it’s what I want to be doing and that I am enjoying every second of it.

I sucked my first cock when I was 14, and instantly became addicted. I probably wasn’t very good, but the recipient had never had one before so he had nothing to compare it with. I did put in a lot of practice on that cock, particularly during the several months that we were “oral only” before I finally arranged to have him help me discard my virginity. In the intervening years, I have had a lot more practice and I’ve sucked cocks of all shapes, sizes and colours. I’ve sucked them individually and as part of a group. Practice, or so they say, makes perfect. I would never claim perfection, but both “The Other Guy” and Master C are fully appreciative of the cocksucking skillset I’ve developed over the course of the better part of three and half decades, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never had any complaints from the men in our sharing circle or the random guys whose cocks I’ve sucked either.

So, as I said way back at the start of this tribute to tumescence, I have absolutely no idea how many cocks I have had in my mouth. I can say, without without any fear of contradiction, that it is far more than I have had in either my cunt or my arse. I can only hope that all of those recipients have enjoyed having me suck their cocks at least as much I enjoyed sucking them.

Cliff top views

After the long drudge through the storms and miserable weather of January and February, yesterday was one of those bright, early spring days that help lift the soul. The sun was shining, birds were singing and there was some genuine warmth in the sunshine. Since it was such a nice day, Master C and I took a drive from our village to the nearby coastal trail.

The trail goes through some wooded stretches, passes a pretty impressive waterfall, but mostly follows a gently undulating path along the cliff-tops. It’s one of our favourite short(ish) walking routes, looking out over the Forth of Clyde across towards Arran. After parking up, we followed the path for about 3½ miles until we reached the viewpoint we were aiming for. From here, on a clear day like yesterday, you can look to the southwest and see the coast of Northern Ireland. You can, conveniently, see for about half a mile along the path in both directions. During the summer, and the school holidays, the path would be teeming with walkers; individually, couples, families, the occasional runner, but yesterday we met two dog walkers on our way to the view point and, apart from the hum of the traffic from a fairly busy main road about 500m behind us, and a couple of fishing boats that we could make out in the Forth, we could have been the only people in the world. What came next, was probably inevitable.

“If I brace myself against the wall, you could fuck me from behind,” I observed.

While we may, just about have been visible from the road I mentioned, it wasn’t actually a clear view and given the speed the cars were doing as the zipped along, it was doubtful that anyone would actually notice anything more than what looked like two people looking out over the cliffs.

Master C flashed me a smile. “Good girl,” He said, “Now, drop them!”

I wriggled my jeans and knickers down to my ankles and supported myself against the wall. Master C ran His fingers up the inside of my thighs and between the folds of my cunt, sliding them back and forth. I was amazed how wet I was and, when He occasionally forced His fingers into my cunt, I felt myself on the verge of orgasm already.

Master C paused, and lifted His fingers to my mouth. I took them between my lips and licked my juices from them, savouring the taste of myself. His fingers returned to my cunt. Distracted, I kept a watch as best I could for anyone coming towards us along the path; thankfully there was still no one.

Fingers of one hand in my cunt, the other hand up my top, squeezing my boobs, Master C tormented me relentlessly, mercilessly. I was loving the attention of His fingers, but I’d suggested a fuck, because I really wanted a fuck; to have His cock inside me. Every moment He denied me increased the risk of some walker, runner, or cyclist appearing and depriving me of what I wanted so much.

“Come first, then I’ll fuck you,” Master C breathed into my ear.

I didn’t really need to be told twice. I pushed my hips back, increasing the pressure of Master C’s finger against my clit, and let go; a long moan released from deep inside me.

Fingers gone; the head of Master C’s cock pressed against my opening and pushed its way in.

Braced against the wall, the sunlight from a blue sky reflecting off the sea below, Master C’s cock deep inside me; everything felt so good.

Master C thrust hard. I pushed my hips back to meet Him. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back sharply as he drove His cock into me, pounding my cunt with deep, hard strokes.

There was an urgency to the way Master C fucked me. An urgency borne of a deep need to release and the possibility of interruption.

“Naughty girl! Brazen hussy! Mischievous slut!” These were just some of the names He called me as He fucked me, and I felt like I was everyone of those things. I was naughty and mischievous and, being fucked in a spot where I could so easily be observed, was definitely brazen.

Master C’s breathing became more laboured. The pace and intensity of His thrusts increased. He released my hair, grabbed my hips, pulled me firmly back to Him as He thrust hard inside me and, moaning my name, came hard inside me.

He pulled out. I turned and squatted down, taking His cock in my mouth, relishing the mixed flavours of us as His cum dripped from my cunt.

Once I had Him cleaned, we both straightened ourselves up, walked over to one of the tables, poured ourselves drinks from the flask and enjoyed the snacks we’d brought for when we got here.

A couple jogged by as we picnicked. The waved and gave us a cheery “Hello” to which we responded in kind. As we retraced our steps back to the car park, we encountered another couple of walkers. With Master C’s cum still dribbling out of me, the walk back was decidedly less comfortable than the walk out had been, but all things considered, I didn’t mine at all.

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.

TMI Tuesday – Consider Sex

1. Do you consider your sex to be “conventional”? Why or why not?
   What is conventional? Also, what do you mean by “my sex”? Is it the sex I am, or the sex I engage in? If it’s the former, I am cis and female; which, I guess, is pretty conventional. I am, however, also the submissive partner in a D/s relationship and I fuck men and women, so I’m possibly not that “conventional” after all. If it’s the latter, well, Master C and I do what we do. We are the D/s dynamic I referred to above, we are also a poly couple. I am allowed to have casual sexual encounters so long as I accept the consequences of my actions. That is our “convention”. Everybody has their own thing, their own conventions. If our relationship is viewed from a vanilla, cis-hetero-normative, monogamous lens, then it is anything but “conventional”, but it is what works for us.
    
2. Gender Identity – How do you describe yourself? (Mark one answer)
   • Male
   • Female
   • Trans Male/Trans Man
   • Trans Female/Trans Woman
   • Genderqueer/Gender Nonconforming
   • Different Identity

   I’m sure that it surprises no one at all that I describe myself as being a female (and a woman).
    

3. Sexual Orientation – Are you exclusively?
   • Heterosexual
   • Gay
   • Lesbian
   • Bisexual
   • None of the above, specify if you wish

   Is it possible to be exclusively bisexual? Again, anyone who reads this blog knows that I enjoy sex with men and women and that in addition to Master C, I have a regular partner who is a man, “The Other Guy” and a regular partner who is a woman, “The Girl”. Master C and I both belong to a poly “sharing circle” within which I have sex with other men and women (for what it’s worth, Master C, only has sex with women). By “dictionary definition” I am bisexual; but, as I have said many times, I prefer simply to refer to myself as sexual (along with submissive and slut).
    

4. Is understanding the causes and effects, and the formation of gender stereotypes important?
   I think it is. Only by understanding them can you really challenge them and their underlying causes. 

Bonus: Your thoughts on this – “I’m in a committed relationship, and it feels like asking for consent every time we have sex is overkill – is that wrong?”
This feels like one of those “minefield” questions, and I guess everyone will have their own particular take on it. Within the context of my relationship with Master C, we operate under what might be described as a “negotiated implied consent” arrangement. What that means in practice is that we have pretty much agreed that anything goes and is permitted but, that at any point, either of us can withdraw consent to any particular activity. In practice, by way of example, Master C does not need to ask if He can fuck me in the arse, but if I really don’t want to be fucked in the arse, I can make it “off limits”.  On a particular occasion, I might not want my throat to be fucked, but I’m quite happy to suck His cock, so consent for the former is withdrawn, but consent for the latter remains in place and is very happily applied. We have our own particular ways for me to indicate that something is a “no” and, due to the fact I may not always be able to communicate this vocally, this includes non-verbal signals as well.

It’s also worth noting that within the D/s dynamic, I may often ask Master C if I can do something, e.g. “Would Sir like me to suck His cock?” or I might ask Him to do something to me, e.g. “Would my Master like to fuck me in the arse?” or “Would Sir care to eat my cunt?” These are active confirmations of my consent for Master C to do those things to me, but they are also an opportunity for Him to refuse.

All couples will have their own approaches to this, so there is no one size fits all answer that will work for everyone. What is important is that it is understood that consent can be withdrawn by either party, for any act, at any time and for any reason and that if it is, it must always be respected .

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.

Definition

The poser set by Quote Quest this week is all about definitions.

“I am the sole author of the dictionary that defines me.”

– Zadie Smith

It is interesting, to me at least, as there are so many words I would use to define myself:

• Advocate
• Bisexual
• Brat
• Carer
• Cock-sucker
• Counsellor
• Filthy
• Insatiable
• Masochist
• Nympho
• Partner
• Promiscuous
• Sexual
• Slut
• Submissive
• Voracious

The above is not exhaustive, by any means, but it takes account my professional, personal and private lives, and I identify as and with all of the above.

It is fair to say that to “defining me”, I am, to a greater or lesser degree, fully responsible for the above being attributable; I chose my career, and I chose to fully explore my sexuality as well as my sexual tastes and desires.

If you’ve read any of this blog, you will know that I am open about the fact that I am attracted to and have sex with men and women; you will know that I enjoy sex with multiple partners; you will know that I have, almost from the beginning of my sexual journey, enjoyed casual sex with random partners; and you will, of course, know that I am submissive and that I submit to Master C.

None of these things have been forced upon me; they are all down to me making conscious choices. That’s not to say others haven’t had input. My parents, my lecturers at university, my colleagues and superiors at work have helped me in the development of my career. The men and women I’ve fucked over the past 30+ years have assisted me in exploring my sexual self. My submission to Master C has, of course, given me a framework and freedom that has allowed me to continue to explore and grow.

While I may not have been the first person to assign the more derogatory terms above to myself, I chose to accept and embrace them, weaving them into my own narrative and making them part of my sexual identity.

I am extremely fortunate to be in a place in my life where, at work, I have a career that, while often hugely stressful and demanding, I take great satisfaction from and, at home (and not at home), I have the freedom to enjoy exploring me, and to indulge my passions and desires.

So where does D/s fit into all this?

Well, largely it is because Master C allows me the freedom, within parameters that we’ve worked out, to explore. Master C provides support, He nurtures and helps me grow, He guides and sometimes He corrects. What Master C does not do, however, is limit me. Again, this is because my submission is my choice; Master C did not force it upon me. I chose to offer it and He chose to accept it. While, in one sense, the application of the dynamic is His “responsibility” as the Dominant, the detail of the dynamic is something that we have developed between us. Ultimately we are the authors of the dictionaries of our lives, but we are the co-authors of the dictionary of our D/s dynamic and our life together.

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.