It’s all sex

The current prompt on No True Way is:

Sex means PIV*

Everything else is foreplay, petting, making out, etc

*PIV means Penis In Vagina

I suspect that it will probably come as no surprise to anyone reading this, that the above statement is one that I disagree with pretty strongly.

As recently as my previous post, I wrote about what fucking meant to me. I get fucked in my mouth and throat, I get fucked in my cunt, I get fucked in my arse, Master C fucks me, “The Other Guy” fucks me, “The Girl” fucks me, random strangers fuck me, and I fuck them. It is me that is fucking and getting fucked, the particular hole or erogenous zone in use at any given time is simply the means by which my partner is fucking me at that point in time.

Now, I’ve also written about foreplay. In my view, depending on how you define it, any activity can be foreplay. Kissing, cuddling and caressing can be foreplay. Having my boobs played with can be foreplay. Me sucking a partner’s cock can be foreplay. A partner licking my clit and/or fingering my cunt can be foreplay. At the same time, having Master C walk into the room and sternly telling me to “Bend over!” can, for me, be foreplay.

For me foreplay isn’t any particular act; foreplay is about working on my mind, it’s about getting me aroused and ready to fuck. Foreplay can often be a series of text messages from Master C, spread throughout the day, telling me what he intends to do to me when we’re together that evening. It can be Him coming up behind me and kissing my neck when I’m busy in the kitchen. It can be me feeling the hardness of His morning erection pressed firmly against me as we snuggle together, barely awake in the time before rising from bed to start the day. It can be Him bending me over and thrashing my arse with His belt as I atone for some misdeed.

For the most part, foreplay acts on my mind. That’s not to say there is no physical activity involved, because often there is, but it is the process of turning the abstract into the actual; it’s about flicking all the right switches that move me from a state of being potentially available for sex into actively desiring and needing sex there in that moment.

The form that the sex takes depends largely on who I’m with and the mood we are in. With “The Girl”, it will involve a lot of kissing, caressing, exploring each other’s bodies with fingers, lips and tongues. It may involve toys, and it will absolutely involve fingering and feasting on each other’s cunts. There are no penises involved, but it is very definitely sex.

With Master C, or “The Other Guy”, it may be that all that happens is that I suck their cocks. Often when Master C is tired, I will give Him a long, slow blow-job to help Him unwind and relieve the stresses of a hard day. He might fuck me later, or He might not, but it’s still sex. It may be that Master C, or “The Other Guy” decide that they are only interested in fucking me in the arse. I’m certainly not going to complain; I’m still getting fucked, and it’s still sex. I may have one of my random encounters where all that happens is that I get down on to my knees and suck them off in a dark alley way. That is very definitely still sex. If I am in a threesome and I’m going down on one partner while the other fucks me in the cunt or arse, I am not engaging in foreplay with one while having sex with the other, I am fucking and being fucked by both of them; it is all still sex.

If I were to try and define both in simplistic terms, I would describe foreplay as being about arousal whereas sex is about gratification; they both take many forms and involve different acts depending on the circumstances they are performed in and the person (or persons) they are being performed with.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the feeling of having my cunt stretched, filled and pounded by a cock, but that is just one particular sexual activity. I equally love the same being done to my arse. similarly, I love having my cunt feasted on and I love feasting on another woman’s cunt, and I definitely love sucking cock. All of these, to me, are sex.

I guess, what I’m saying is, sex is simply whatever you decide it is.

Going down

Leaving aside those encounters where I’m sucking someone off in a dark alley and where, by necessity, there is a certain urgency to proceedings; generally, my main considerations are comfort and maximising the enjoyment for both me and the recipient.

If you have even a passing familiarity with this blog, you will be aware that going down on a partner is one of my absolute favourite things to do. I’ve written before about the sense of control it gives me, and that is a big thing. Mostly though, it’s about the joy I take from giving pleasure to a partner. There is an inherent selflessness in giving head; you are doing unto your partner while nothing is being done unto you. Yes, I take a lot of pleasure from it, but that pleasure is secondary; it derives from the knowledge of the pleasure I am giving, it comes from knowing that I am entirely responsible for what my partner is feeling and experiencing, it’s the knowledge that their orgasm is entirely down to me.

Yes, sometimes, after a short period to recover, they may reciprocate, but that isn’t necessary. It may be that what I’ve just done is my form of reciprocation for something they have done to me. It might be that sucked his cock or licked her cunt as part of a “larger” sexual experience but, quite often, when I go down on a partner, particularly when I suck Master C’s cock, I do it, because I want to; I want His cock in my mouth and I want Him to just sit/lie back and enjoy the pleasure my mouth will deliver.

So, how do I like to do it? Well, I like to revel in it, to wallow in it; I like to give the task in hand (or should that be mouth?) my undivided attention.

Comfort is paramount; mine as well as theirs. If I’m going to be between their legs with their cock in my mouth or my face buried in their cunt for a prolonged period of time, I want to be comfortable. If I’m going to feel cramp anywhere, the only place I want to feel it, eventually, is in my jaw. Often this will involve me lying on the bed or sofa, but if I’m kneeling on the floor, I have a particularly comfy cushion that I tend to use to protect my knees (I’m not looking to add Cocksucker’s Knee to the list of medical conditions any time soon).

After that, it really comes down to knowing what my partner likes and enjoys. Master C has a preference for me starting slow, with lots of licking and kissing, whereas “The Other Guy” is much more about the sucking and being simultaneously stroked with my fingers. With “The Other Guy”, I tend to concentrate a lot on the very tip, as this is where he is most sensitive. With Master C, the whole head is pretty much equally responsive to my ministrations.

Both men like me to vary the pace. Both men like, occasionally to feel my teeth drag softly along the length of their shaft. Both me absolutely love it when I gaze up at them and make eye contact while their cock is deep in my mouth.

With “The Girl”, she likes slow, but firm strokes of my tongue between her labia, interspersed with rapid flicks over her clit. She likes my to have my fingers inside her as I lick her; sliding in and out and twisting around.

The key for me is to listen to and feel their responses; to be guided by what their bodies are telling me, to be receptive to any particular requests they may make. Master C, “The Girl” and “The Other Guy are all comfortable and ensured enough to be able to express their desires, which makes satisfying them so muc easier.

Of course, my own wants are also important; there are things I need too. There will be times when I want to concentrate on pleasing the head with my lips and tongue. There will also be times when I want to feel it lodged tight in the back of my throat. There will be times when I want to lash “The Girl’s” clit to feed her climax, and there will be times when I just want to lick her cunt at a leisurely pace and savour the taste of her on my tongue.

For me, giving the best head I can is all about being in the moment; I am concentrating entirely on the act and thinking of nothing else. It’s about attuning myself to the other person, reading the signs to gauge their level of arousal and, ultimately, the nearness of their climax. I don’t really have any “signature” moves other than the fact I always give it my best effort. It may be a bit big headed of me to say I’ve never had any complaints, but the greatest compliment is a satisfyingly large load of thick, rich cum in my mouth (or over my face and/or boobs) and the knowledge that they will want me to do it to them again. Nothing makes me a happier slutty little cocksucker/cuntlicker.

My flavour

I am, as I suspect many women are, very familiar with the taste of my own sexual fluids. By which I mean, many women are familiar with the taste of their own, not with mine; although there are a fair few who are familiar with mine too. I digress…

Almost from the very beginning, from pretty much the first furtive fingering I ever gave myself, I have been fascinated by the scent and flavour of my cunt. As I experimented, I began to notice the subtle changes in both consistency and flavour depending on my level of arousal and where I was in my cycle. Despite those variations there was an underlying intrinsic “meness” that, as I became acquainted with the taste of other vaginas, I released that I, like every other woman I tasted had my own unique flavour; my own essence.

I can’t really describe my flavour. It has a rich, slightly bitter, musky tanginess. At the point of orgasm, my flavour becomes sharper, richer and more intense. Many partners have commented on the fact that, when they are going down on me, they can tell the moment that I come simply because the way I taste changes; becoming stronger and (apparently) more intoxicating.

Now, I’m not sure about the intoxicating bit, but I will admit that tasting myself while masturbating has always heightened my arousal and intensified the sensations. When I wank, my fingers will travel between my cunt and my mouth many times as I drive myself towards orgasm; it is an intrinsic part of my self-play.

It isn’t just when I’m flying solo that I get to taste myself. I am fortunate that in Master C, “The Other Guy” and “The Girl”, I am blessed by having partners for whom going down on me is something the do with relish and gusto. I love tasting myself on their lips as they kiss me, my essence on their tongue as it snakes inside my mouth. I love it when a partners fingers, glistening with my juices, are pushed into my mouth to be licked clean. I can never get enough of the taste of myself on Master C’s or “The Other Guy’s” cock after it has been inside me.

I particularly love the combination of flavours when my cum is mixed with that of my partner’s, whether that be when Master C commands me to lick His cock clean after He has fucked me, or when I gather up our mixed essences as they trickle from my cunt and lick my fingers clean.

I have made no secret in this blog about how hungry I am when it comes to having my partners’ cum in my mouth but, it seems, when you get right down to it, I’m every bit as hungry for the taste of my own.

Don’t try this at home!

Sometimes I really don’t fully think through the consequences of my actions. Take the following situation for example; a cautionary tale from the early days of Master C and I living together, which was almost custom made for this particular prompt.

It was mid-afternoon one Saturday, and I had just returned home from a morning spent with “The Girl”. I was looking forward to having Master C remind me of “what I’d been missing” while “The Girl” and I had been enjoying each other’s company, in that particular way that He always does, after I’ve finished providing Him with the required and fully detailed account of what we’d got up to.

Having been playing rugby that morning, Master C still hadn’t got home by the time I had, so I had some time on my hands that I needed to use. Being home, alone, and still on a high after an orgasm filled time with “The Girl”, I stripped off and headed to the shower, where I spend a considerable time experimenting with the shower head to determine which angles and pressure had the most pleasing effects. This was followed by an extended session using my fingers and wand, and despite several very intense climaxes, I was still still incredibly randy and feeling decidedly naughty.

So, in my pleasure hormone saturated brain, I hatched a plan to prepare a nice surprise for Master C on his return home.

So, after rummaging in the bottom drawer for the necessary accoutrements, and pausing only to ensure a trail of clothing was strewn artfully up the stairs, I set to work.

First off was to secure my ankles to the foot end of the bed and attach the handcuffs to one of my wrists. Next was to fit and secure the ball-gag and tie the blindfold firmly in place. Finally, and this was the tricky bit, was to wind the handcuff chain around one of the headboard bars before locking the empty cuff around my free wrist. This is not the easiest task while blindfolded and after several failed attempts, and several muffled swear words, I was relieved when I finally managed to click it into place.

Now all that was left was to wait for Master C’s return.

After the initial cunt soaking excitement had passed, a dawning realisation that I hadn’t thought this fully through, began asserting itself on me.

It started with little things like:

Did I remember to lock the door? Or:

Has He got his keys?

Then the slightly darker thoughts like:

What if there’s a fire?

Then full-on panic:

What if mum comes round? She has her own key.

As time went by, there was the, what if He’s hurt himself. That caused a brief thrill of excitement at the thought of Master C being assisted home by a team-mate (or two) who might then join us, but it was quickly replaced with: “what if He’s really hurt himself and is in casualty”?

As the enormity of my predicament finally penetrated, I had one last, horrific thought:

Where the fuck is the cat?

By this stage, any randiness or anticipatory excitement had completely drained away and, resigned to my situation, I gave up and, somewhat surprisingly, fell asleep.

I didn’t hear the lock turn, I didn’t hear Master C make His way up the stairs; I was eventually awakened to the sound and sight of Him almost pissing himself laughing at my predicament. Which elicited a somewhat grumpy, “Well don’t just stand there laughing. After all the bother I’ve gone to, the least you could do is take advantage of me…” Which, from around my ball gag, probably sounded more like “Mmmph, unof! Umph, fmbl, gurrumph hmmm, ach!” Still, to be fair, after regaining His composure, take advantage of me He did; very thoroughly, and I enjoyed it imensely.

Of course, due to the ball-gag situation, I had to wait until Master C had finished His initial “taking advantage” before being able to recount my earlier activities with “The Girl”. This resulted in me being briefly released while I turned onto my front, having my arse soundly thrashed before being very soundly reminded of “what my holes are for” and ended with a load of Master C’s cum being deposited over my face.

So yeah, clouds and silver linings. I accept that, shining the cold light of hindsight on the situation, it wasn’t one of my cleverest moments. Having said that it wasn’t the last time that I acted before properly thinking things through and I’m almost sure to have further misadventures in future.

In harmony

One of the best things, I think, of being in a long-term relationship with someone who knows exactly what buttons to press to maximise your pleasure is, simply just that; they know your buttons and you also know theirs. Sometimes it almost seems as if no actual expression of need or want is required to be vocalised; things just happen and it just so happens that those things are exactly the right things. To have that kind of relationship with one partner is amazing, for me, the fact that I have it with two, in both Master C and “The Girl” is special beyond words.

I’ve always maintained that Master C can play my body like a musical instrument. He has that virtuoso skill to take me to the edge of orgasm and hold me there for so long that it seems that time has no meaning, and then, when I am past the point of endurance, He will unleash the triumphant crescendo of my climax in a grand finalé.

It works both ways however. When I am sucking Master C’s cock, my long familiarity with His responses; the moans and sighs, the involuntary flinches and twitches, the tension in His muscles, in His thighs and in His face, all tell me what He is experiencing and what He is enjoying. They let me know what I should concentrate on to prolong and maximise His pleasure. They warn me of the proximity of His climax, allowing me to slow things down, or speed things up depending on whether or not prolonging the sensations or providing Him the release He needs is the appropriate course of action.

We can read each other’s signals; my gasps of pain as His belt strokes my arse, my whimpers and sobs of frustration as He edges me, the deepening of His breathing as His climax approaches, the swelling and twitching of His cock as His arousal grows, the tightening of His hold on my hair or around my neck as the primal, animal side of His sexual nature takes hold.

The same is true with “The Girl”. We have been “lovers” for over 30 years so we just instinctively know what to do to and with each other. We know when to use our fingers or our lips or our tongues, we know how hard to bite/nibble and with how much speed and force to apply our tongues. When I’m going down on her, I can tell by taste as her orgasm approaches. When she goes down on me, she knows just what to do to turn me into a soaking mess of orgasmic energy.

And yet, it still comes down to communication. Our bodies; mine, Master C’s and “The Girl’s” are all “talking” to each other even when none of us are using words. Those non-verbal cues express what we need and how what the other person is doing is fulfilling those needs just as much as if we were articulating them out loud. Years of communicating and sharing our desires through all the means at our disposal mean that it is possible to have the most fantastic encounter without ever expressing any words other than those occasional profanities that accompany such intense emotional and sensual experiences.

In both of my relationships, the participants perform well practiced duets, where the performance of each member of that pairing compliment each other; enhancing and enriching the experience for both.

Friends reunited

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Times are a changin’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One way or another

This week, on No True Way, we’re being asked to consider the following:

“A switch is not a real Dom/sub.”

Now, this is not a topic I really have any experience with but, as with all things, I would say that context is key.

I am pretty sure that there is absolutely no way that anyone would ever consider me to be Dominant, especially in my relationship with Master C, but as I have mentioned many times on here, being submissive does not, in the context of our dynamic, mean me being passive and having no input into what goes on, or the kind of things I want to do and have done to me.

I’ve written before that Master C expects me to communicate my wants, needs and desires, and we have evolved a means by which I can do this in a way that is consistent with my submission to him. As my Master, He is, of course, free to interpret and act upon my requests as He sees fit; but that is how it should be.

There are also times where it suits Master C to let me take the lead. He is happy for me to do “the heavy lifting” as it were, and provide most of the effort while He enjoys the fruits of my efforts. This doesn’t make me any less submissive; it is simply another way in which I care for Him and provide for His needs.

Of course, as anyone who reads this blog will be fully aware, Master C, is not the only person that I have sex with. In addition to our poly sharing circle, there are both “The Girl” and “The Other Guy” and there are also my randoms.

Within the sharing circle, I am absolutely submissive. I may occasionally be required to “Dominate” one of the other submissives in the group, but that does not come naturally to me, and I am still doing it as a submissive act in that I am doing it for the gratification of either Master C, or the Master of the other submissive that I am being required to “Dominate”. Essentially though, it is play acting. I do it because that is the task that has been set me, not because I am naturally inclined to do so.

With “The Other Guy”, while I do not submit to him, where our kinks are concerned, I am still the submissive partner. I will still ask him if he would like me to suck his cock, or if he would like to eat me out or fuck my arse. I will still take instruction from him when he tells me to bend over, or get down on my knees/all fours. I am still very much submissive even though I am not his submissive.

When I am with “The Girl”, there really isn’t any D/s element to our sex at all. We’ve know each other since childhood, been sexual partners since our teens and we just do what feels right and comes naturally to us. Where such things require it, we will take it in turns to be the one doing things to the other, but there is no primacy between us; we simply share the moments we have together and do whatever happens.

The only time that sex is entirely on my own terms is with a random. I single them out, I pick them off, and then we do whatever it is I’m in the mood for, whether that simply be sucking them off or getting fucked in the arse in a dark alley. With randoms it’s really all about what I want from a partner in that moment; it’s the rush, the thrill and excitement of the illicit in the sure and certain knowledge that I will be punished for it later.

Now, while my extra-curricular couplings undoubtedly confirm my slut credentials, none of these things, however, qualifies me as a “switch”. at the end of the day, I submit to Master C, and only to Master C. He is the only one to whom my submission has been offered. Again, as I have written before, I am His submissive at all times, not just when we are engaging in sex or kink related activities. I am His submissive when I’m at work, I am His submissive when I’m pushing the trolley round the supermarket (irrespective of whether or not I’ve been instructed to wear a butt-plug, nipple-clamps, ben-wa balls while I am out and about), I am His submissive when I’m asleep. To me, “switching” doesn’t enter into it, it doesn’t matter what I am doing or, indeed, who I am doing it with, I have submitted to Master C and I am His submissive in every way and at all times.

All in my mind (for now…)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Guidance through discipline

I’ve touched on this many times in this blog, but discipline/punishment is a very important part of the D/s dynamic that exists between Master C and myself. Punishment helps define boundaries; not to confine, but to determine the “price” required to cross those boundaries. As I mentioned in this post, any corrections that Master C administers, are never delivered unilaterally; I am always required to consider my actions and what the “tariff” for any given transgression may be.

Punishments can, of course, take many forms. There are, of course, the obvious forms of corporal punishment: spanking, belting, caning, flogging; all always delivered to my naked arse, each one with it’s own unique form and intensity of pain, each one leaving a different mark on my skin.

Master C’s hand is usually for the most minor infringements; when I’m being particularly bratty or impudent, or when He knows I’m not trying my hardest. His belt, the flogger and the cane are used for more “serious” infringements. In those pre-covid days where such things were possible, a drunken blow-job with a random might earn me several lashes from the belt, fucking more than one random on the same night out might mean the flogger, and getting publicly fucked in the arse at a local dogging site absolutely  called for the cane.

Knowing the level of punishment I can expect, helps me determine the level I am willing to accept for any one act or transgression. In my mind, I know the level of recompense I am likely to have to pay, and this helps shape whether or not the “act” is worth the “cost”.

But punishments aren’t just corporal.

One of Master C’s favourite alternative punishments takes the form of denial. That can be denial of orgasm for me; where he takes His pleasure from me but forbids me to come. Another form of denial is when He fucks me, or requires me to suck His cock, He will deprive me of His cum. Master C knows how much I love to feel Him erupt inside me, He knows how I consider taking His cum in my mouth to be a reward and He knows how much I don’t like it when He chooses to withhold that from me.

Again, in the pre-covid days when we would get together with other members of our “Circle”, punishment could take the form of me having to watch him being attended to by one of the other women or for me to have to “wear” the cum of one or more of the other men (although having a big degradation fetish, this one never really seems like a punishment, but having it done to me then not being allowed to come myself does make this unpleasant).

Finally, there are those times when I overstep the line, I have gone too far in my misbehaviour, I have provoked Him beyond what He is prepared to accept. In these instances, I am subject to the ultimate punishment and banished to the cage. It happens rarely, but the threat is there.

The point, however, of all of these, is not to prevent me from doing things, but for me to respect the fact that my actions have consequences. They are a form of guidance as much as they are of correction; they allow me a degree of freedom to fulfil my needs and desires, while making me consider their worth and urgency. Punishment, for me, is a form of currency; I can have whatever I want, so long as I am willing to pay the appropriate “price” for it and it allows me to decide if the gratification I would receive is worth the price I would pay (while factoring in that the price is very much a part of the overall gratification).

There is one final form of “punishment” that I have still to touch upon.  This one is much more fun (although, again, current circumstances mean that I haven’t been on the receiving end for a while) and is “the punishment fuck“. It’s not really a punishment per se, and is reserved for when I’ve been with “The Girl” or another female partner. It involves nothing more than, after having provided Master C of a full account of what I’ve got up to with the other woman, He gives me a very thorough fucking, usually precluded by a spanking and almost always resulting in my mouth, cunt and arse all being roughly all being fucked by His lovely cock just to “remind me of what I missed”. With the exception of the watching and humiliation, the other punishments are still very much part of life (although I have to be quite creative to earn some of the harsher corporal punishments at the moment), but I do miss the punishment fucks, and I definitely miss the reasons for receiving them.