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Ending at the beginning January 27, 2012

Posted by Leah in Bondage, Breath play, Cunnilingus, D/s, Exhibitionism, Fellatio, Fisting, Fucking, Repeated hookups, Spanking, Urine.
12 comments

The e-mail I sent him

Dear Amadeo,

I don’t know when, after tonight, we will see each other again. Unless you visit me in the States, it could be quite some time. You know that monogamy isn’t for me. It never was. I told you this before we met. But life so often surprises. I can’t make any promises for what will happen if we do meet up, whether we will fuck. Today, however, I can state with absolute conviction that *I* *am* *yours*. I belong to you. This may never happen again. It behooves us to make circumstance our bitch.

I want your company — in bed and out of it. More than this, I crave your dominance. I desire to be a girl possessed. I require your strength. You can punish me for topping from below — please do! — but I insist upon it. I need you to be rough with me. I want to be totally fucked by you. Use my mouth. Use my cunt. Use my ass. Use them just as you please. I am three holes for your pleasure. I am a slut for one cock only. It’s yours, Amadeo. You own the penis, so you own the woman. I am a plaything, a fuck-toy, the clay that you mold. I am your willing and submissive zero pound whore. I am to be taken hard and challenged. Be harsh with me. Do this. I want you to.

Leave your mark on my body. Beat my buttocks and my breasts. Pull my hair. Place bruises on my skin, bite marks, welts, hickeys. Sign your name on me with indelible ink after each of my orgasms. I want the evidence of the night to linger for days. I want to remember you as I sit uncomfortably in the airplane. I want other lovers to see what you have done.

Slap my pussy. Be brutal to my clitoris. Hold me down by the windpipe and tighten your grip on my throat while you claim my mouth with your tongue and my vagina with your penis. Fuck me with your feet. I will lick the soles and suck your toes afterwards. I will lap the hollows of your arms. Place your fist inside my cunt, twist it within me slowly, unball your fingers under my womb, stretch them out. Make your hand big inside. I am, after all, your fuck puppet. Have me rim your asshole. I will kiss your anus, layering the opening with spit to begin, lowering my tongue beyond the sphincter, slurping at your bung in the exact manner that you devour my pussy. If it is your wish, I will do this for hours. I want to please you so very much.

My vagina throbs when I think about compressing its muscles about your shaft. I am wet inside my panties. I touch myself and ramp the arousal to stratospheric heights.

Tie me down. Chain me up. Masturbate my cunt. I want to be on my knees for you. I want your penis in my mouth.

Piss on me. Come over me. I will wear your bodily fluids proudly. I will drink them down and thank you for the privilege.

I want your presence. I want to have your weight over my body. I want to be blanketed by your warmth. I feel small beside you and protected. I want to bestow on you what pleasure I can. This is my main purpose tonight, my sole concern. More so than the orgasms that render me speechless, more so than a ticket to subspace, more so than the memories that will linger for years, this shall be my joy.

I am an obedient girl. I will do what you say.

I know you will make me laugh. I expect you will make me cry. I will come so many times, with permission and without. We will say farewell, but we won’t say goodbye. And who knows what may follow?

See you in one hour, lover.

Your dutiful slut,

Leah

~

The last date

What I wrote happened, more or less. It was a third consecutive night of sex. But such weekends are the reason I spend an hour at the gym every day.

We met up in the early afternoon for lunch, and then Amadeo gave me a tour of his office, which I had been asking to see. Unfortunately, even though it was a Sunday, there were people around. We kissed and touched a little, but our clothes stayed on. I enjoyed learning about his current projects. As I had errands to run, I left Amadeo, did the things I needed to do, dropped stuff off at the apartment in which I was staying, sent the e-mail I quoted above, and proceeded out again after I had eaten a quick dinner.

I traveled to Amadeo’s apartment wearing sensible shoes, thigh high black nylon stockings, a winter coat, and nothing else. It was a curious feeling to be on the tube almost naked. On the escalator out of the bowels of the underground, the man behind me may have noticed what I wasn’t wearing. He followed me up the stairs at the end, being sure to remain several steps behind me. The chill outside made my nipples peak. The cold air swirled between my legs. The shivers were worth it. Amadeo approved when the coat came off.

In the bedroom, he had me read my letter aloud. Fully nude and prostrate on the floor, I kissed his feet. As in the past, he tied me to the bed and whipped my pussy with a leather belt. He fisted me also. He fucked me to release, but stopped before he came. I have related incidents of a similar character before; I won’t repeat myself.

The new ingredient was the caning. He has a rattan cane among the toys he keeps in the bedroom closet, but we haven’t played with this much in the past. Amadeo had me bend over and clutch my ankles. He stood behind me. Through my legs, I saw his erection wave at me. He tested the cane. It wooshed through the air. His hands stroked the insides of my thighs and spread the moisture from my pussy over an expanse of skin. When he felt that anticipation had assumed a sufficient pitch, he hit me. He struck the backs of my thighs. The cane landed heavily on the fleshy part of the buttocks. It thudded on my back. The pain at the point of impact was sharp and stinging. It made me yelp. Often, he repeated several times over the same spot. The skin burned after the fact. The nerve endings seared. Following a particularly fierce impact, I involuntarily straightened. The cane cut sharply across the side of my thigh. The pressure on the small of my back compelled me down. His steely voice negated dissent.

I cried. The sobs racked my body. My breathing became heavy. I thought it hurt too much to continue. But I bit my lower lip and summoned the will to keep going. He asked me to ask him to hit me harder, and I did this in sentences that broke through a cloud of tears. In the end, he went to his knees. His tongue followed the lines of welts that marred my skin.

He turned me around and looked up at me from his knees. His tongue licked along the slit. Amadeo positioned me over the bed. I was on my back. The nerves beneath me throbbed. He forced my legs open and raised my arms above my head. He didn’t tie me down, but instructed me nevertheless not to move. I knew what would follow. My hands gripped the sheets. I spread the legs wider for him. The cane slashed over my tits. He struck a dozen times, then worked the tops of my thighs. I screamed. He stuffed his boxer shorts in my mouth to muffle the sounds. Muscles in his upper arms and torso rippled. Though he tempered his strength on my breasts, no such quarter was given to my legs. It hurt immeasurably. But I wanted it. I could absorb this punishment. I wanted to be his good girl. Amadeo spoke in a soft voice that encouraged me even as the cane wounded. I concentrated on the regular, deep rhythms of his breathing. I closed my eyes and drew within my mind and entered a warm and submissive place. In the end, he dropped the wood and buried his face in my cunt and licked me gently. He sucked on the clit until I came. In the aftermath of the orgasm, which I kissed from his cheeks and chin, he fingered my bruised nipples. We chatted as he massaged my back and rubbed salve over my buttocks and thighs.

Amadeo and I started our friendship with an e-mail. He answered an ad on Craigslist. The fantasy he had proposed was too extreme for me, especially on a first date. The intelligence and humor in his message intrigued me, however. I replied, and we got to talking. His appeal grew. Amadeo’s demeanor and attitude engendered confidence when we met. Early on, I had the sense that he could become a regular dom. I am so happy that he did.

Amadeo asked me again about his initial fantasy. I am still not ready for it. So we negotiated a compromise. As he made the preparations, I spent forty-five minutes curled over the rug on the floor. He had me chained to the radiator, which heated me nicely. (He prefers a cooler temperature than I like.) At the lowest setting, a vibrator buzzed agreeably in my cunt. I wasn’t allowed to touch my pussy. I wasn’t allowed to come. I flipped through the pictures in an art book while I waited. It distracted my attention from the still singing nerve endings. Amadeo walked over, called me bitch, and ruffled my hair affectionately. The tip of a finger stroked between my cleavage and trailed on a downward trajectory to my clitoris, which he pointedly did not touch. He sucked my nipples and dangled ropes of saliva into my open mouth. He took a dram of Laphroaig and let it spill from his lips into mine and then did the same with fizzy sparkling water. I stretched. My pussy and pubis were pleasantly sore. I was more aware of the stiffness in my thighs and back.

When he had finished cleaning, he showed me water in the depression of his hand, and then he tipped the hand to his lips and swallowed it. After that, he led me by the chain, which looped my throat and was secured by a luggage lock. I padded after him into the bathroom. He unfastened the lock. The chain tinkled to ground.

The side of my face squashed up against the bottom of the toilet cover. He directed the stream of piss against my face. I closed my eyes and felt the warmth of it pass over my eyelid and along the nose and cheek. The color was a pale yellow. When he had finished, I blotted the urine on the glans with my tongue and sucked the penis to hardness. He slipped a condom over the erection. I turned. My hands gripped the porcelain rim of the toilet, and I braced myself. The cock entered my pussy from behind.

I trusted Amadeo.

With my head in the bowl, which was full of urine and toilet water, he fucked me. My face touched the surface of the liquid. My hair became wet. His hand pushed hard against the back of my head to keep me in place. He flushed the toilet. The sudden suction of the water below took me by surprise. The jets of water splashed my face as the toilet filled up. His cock pounded my cunt at a furious pace. My face was in and out of the water repeatedly. I took rapid breaths through my mouth. He didn’t hold my head underwater for long periods of time; I could, in fact, take in air easily.

Under the circumstances, Amadeo didn’t last long within my cunt. He gave a massive groan and came in my pussy. It took fewer than five minutes from start to finish.

I removed the condom and inverted it and slurped the semen inside. I licked and sucked his shaft. Then, I dunked my head back into the toilet, closed my eyes, and washed my face with another flush.

My mouth filled with water, and I sputtered it back out. I dipped my hand in and collected more water, which I wiped over his chest and groin and thighs. Amadeo laughed. He kissed me. His tongue licked my cheeks. He bit the tip of my nose. The water sprayed from me as I shook my head like a dog. I lapped the drops that had splashed the rim. He moaned when he saw this. The erection resurrected itself. He reached for me.

~

Philosophical remarks

Sex is dirty. Sex is vulgar. Sex is rough.

As I had requested, the last meeting with Amadeo was exceptionally intense. It deviated in an unexpected direction. I was a willing participant throughout. I enjoyed myself. Though the bruises remained for a week, I have no regrets.

Water bondage is a fantasy that Amadeo has nursed for years. The symbolism mattered to him greatly. With my head bent over the toilet waiting for him to place his cock inside me, I thought how terrible could this possibly be when he had spent most of an hour cleaning until the white porcelain was fit to eat from and demonstrated this to me by drinking the water first? It absolutely would not hurt the way the caning had. After it was done, I was happy that I had been able to offer him something new.

I tend not to rationalize sex and submission along the axes of humiliation and degradation. Amadeo and I can play as hard as we do because I know that he respects me. The discussions we have, despite a sixteen year gap in age and experience, are the social interactions of equals. We happen to have complementary sexual tastes. We enjoy kink and the D/s dynamic in the bedroom. Crucially, all of this is only play. I am not a second class human being for surrendering control over the patterns of sex. He does not make me feel inferior to him. How could he when he licks the water from the toilet off my face?

When Amadeo and I started seeing each other, I had a boyfriend in Boston. My great worry during our time together was the possibility that he was getting too attached. To preempt this and to maintain a modicum of distance, I chose to restrict our encounters to one day a week. I also made sure he knew there were others in my sexual life. Still, our relationship flourished, and the friendship deepened. To me, he is one of the touchstones of the city, like the National Gallery or the Southbank Centre. I can’t think of London without remembering the nights we shared. I miss him. For sexual fulfillment, for safe journeys to subspace and back, for sex as provocation and challenge and adventure, for kink as a lifeline, I am in his debt.

~

The next meeting

I have asked Amadeo to visit me in Boston. He said he would try to come in May. He also promised to be a better correspondent. I hope we pick up again where we left off.

In the meanwhile, I have David. We have met up twice since I have been back. He introduced me to electrostimulation. The sensations are novel. Over the weekend, he and I fucked until we could no longer remain awake, slept for a few hours, woke up renewed, and proceeded to fuck some more. My friend Ab, an irregular regular who teaches biology at a middle school, plans to take me to a swingers’ club on St. Valentine’s night. There’s always something. I keep discovering new dimensions to sex.

I’m a lucky girl.

About David January 3, 2012

Posted by Leah in Bondage, Cunnilingus, D/s, Fellatio, Fucking, Repeated hookups, Spanking.
6 comments

A reader asked about David. This is how we met.

David contacted me on OkCupid, where both of us list casual sex among our interests. We traded a couple of messages on the site, then moved to e-mail. In the course of the conversation, I explained that I was a bedroom submissive in search of kink. I was seeking a relationship in the best case scenario, but would be happy to have a regular play partner. He preferred the latter arrangement. Like me, he had learned the ropes of bdsm on the scene, but indulged exclusive in private play these days.

On our first date — drinks and dinner — David and I hardly spoke of sex at all. As such meetings often are, it was a tad awkward to start, but we warmed to each other in time and lingered over dessert. I appreciated his intelligence and lightning wit. We took a walk along the river, and he saw me to the T and gave me a kiss on the cheek at our parting.

He called me on a Sunday night that weekend, and we had a two hour conversation about D/s. His views are compatible with mine. It’s a fun way to play but isn’t a lifestyle. It arouses me beyond measure to submit to a strong man. I’m a pain slut, who enjoys the powerlessness of bondage. The psychology of submission appeals far more than the paraphernalia. Safeword and condoms are mandatory impedimenta. He and I ended up having phone sex.

When we met up a second time, David and I negotiated boundaries over coffee and cake and proceeded to his bedroom. He undressed me and tied me up. My forearms were bound to my lower legs just above the ankles. My head dangled off the edge of the mattress. He had me arch my back off the bed and separate my knees as far as I could manage. David slapped my breasts and spanked my pubis. He beat me with a wooden spoon and with a riding crop. He stood on the mattress straddling me and dripped candle wax down from a height. With his weight on top of my body, he tit fucked me. With a vibrator inserted in my cunt, he ate my pussy to orgasm. I screamed pleasure through the panties that were stuffed in my mouth and the bondage tape over my lips.

David ripped the tape from my mouth, extracted the panties, and replaced them with his cock. As he throat fucked me, his hands mauled my tits. I was upside down, and the blood rushed to my head. I took his come shot over my face. He spanked my pussy again with the riding crop and made amends for the pain by fucking me to a state of euphoric senselessness. I came repeatedly and begged David to deliver his orgasm to me.

We have been quasi-dating ever since. When I am tied to his bed, he kisses me softly and whispers a promise to hurt me, and I whimper at the thought, but by the end of the session, inevitably, I am the one asking him for more pain because the accompanying pleasure is so much greater that way. Our friendship is not exclusively based upon bdsm. We go to old movies together. He is a professor — different subject, different university — and was helpful and encouraging during the job application process.

I met his other lover once. She’s a social worker, in her thirties. They were at a cocktail lounge. David saw me at the bar and waved me to their table to join them for a drink. She and I didn’t compare notes about our common dom, but I saw the rope burns on her wrists.

Back to Blighty December 19, 2011

Posted by Leah in Bondage, Buggery, Craigslust, Cunnilingus, D/s, Electra complex, Fellatio, Fucking, Gallimaufry, Masturbation, Public, Random hookups, Repeated hookups.
14 comments

I am in the UK again from December 31st to January 17th. I will be crashing with my former roommate and her husband. They are renting a one bedroom flat near Hampstead Heath. I get the plush new sofa in the living room. I expect I won’t be at their place every night. After all, I have friends to see and be done by.

Amadeo has proven to be a generally poor correspondent. We Skype now and again. Frank writes a long e-mail every couple of weeks. These arrive unexpectedly. The letters are warm and funny and inevitably make me wish I had considered doing an undergraduate degree at Oxford or Cambridge. His missives and my replies are interspersed with frequent text messages. The salacious SMS exchanges happen when one of us endures an incomprehensible seminar. I like to think of Frank growing hard in his seat in public and hiding the erection in his pants with A4 paper. In the back of the auditorium, I squirm in my chair from arousal. My panties become moist. I miss these men.

For the past six weeks in Boston, I have been seeing someone. In his early thirties, David is a newly minted assistant professor. I like him very much so far. We are still in the process of discovering each other, sexually and otherwise. I have no expectations for how long the relationship will last. We aren’t exclusive. My colorful sexual life isn’t a secret to him either. He has seen the marks that other men have left on my body. He disapproves only on aesthetic grounds. He is especially proficient at applying pain without leaving bruises. David and I met through OkCupid. Like my own profile, his indicates an interest in casual sex. Naturally, in the bedroom, he gets off on his dominance and my submission. He is adept with rope. I am his bondage whore. He has made my body contort in positions I didn’t know were possible for me and taken me hard while I was tied. Sometimes he wants a brutally fast orgasm from a skull fucking. At other times he has me between his legs worshiping his phallus for most of a lazy Saturday afternoon. The Venn diagram of our kinks overlaps considerably, but there are also significant exclusions.

Because we have common friends, the ex-boyfriend and I run into each other socially. We haven’t fallen into bed. I have only been back to the old apartment once, to pick up my stuff. It’s over. I think of him less and less. But sometimes, when I am meandering through an art gallery, for example, I play the conversations we could have had in my mind. The abundance of memories I have makes me smile. He is happy. I am also, in my own way, content with the rhythms of my days and nights.

I hooked up with both of my regulars from before shortly after returning to the US. Though we do not play often, the most exciting sex I have had was a gang bang with five men organized by one of these fuck buddies. One by one, I sat on the men’s laps, naked. Wearing business suits, they kissed and touched me. The men toyed with my breasts and fingered my pussy. They affixed clothespins to my body. I brushed my ass over the erections that tented their trousers. We shared bottles of wine. Because I wanted to walk comfortably the next day, we decided that only three of them would fuck my ass. The men conducted a lottery for the privilege. I was doubled up, back and front. Once, briefly, I was tripled. My openings were made watertight. I held a penis in each hand and stroked the shafts. The men tied me to the sort of bench that is typically found in the locker room at a gym. The rope knotted my wrists beneath the plane of the thick wooden plank. It wrapped over my back to hold me in place. My tits were squashed flat. Knees on the floor, my legs were held apart by a spreader bar. My ass extended over the edge. They took my anus and pussy. My chest rode hard against the oak. Frequently, I fellated a man who straddled the bench and fed me his cock while another fucked me. The sex was continuous. It went on for two and a half hours. My friend had me first and last.

A few other encounters may be worth mentioning. I had bareback sex on a single occasion. At a bar, I picked up an eighteen year old, who looked like he was in his early twenties. I didn’t know he was a virgin until he confessed his virtue in my bedroom after we were already naked. Probably, I should have guessed his inexperience from the way he kissed. He departed my apartment having come in a woman. To start, I gave him a blowjob to take the edge off. He erupted almost at once, filling my mouth with the consummation of all of his adolescent daydreams and night tremors. Despite obvious inexpertness, I liked that I was his first taste of cunt. When we fucked, I squealed aloud in ecstasy before he expelled his seed. While I thought of introducing him to my toy box, I ultimately decided against it. I have long fantasized about training up the ideal dom starting from a tabula rasa. He isn’t the one. I haven’t seen him again.

At the other end of the age spectrum, I indulged my Electra complex over Thanksgiving. On Black Friday, I posted an ad on Craigslist and hooked up with a man in his mid-fifties. He is over twice my age and, in fact, said he had a son a year older than me. We met for coffee and then proceeded to a no tell motel at the outskirts of town. The clerk gave us a knowing look when he handed over the key. The man palmed my ass possessively. I never learned his name. I insisted that Daddy place his great, big cock in his little girl’s tight, wet cunt. Fucking and sustained cunnilingus drowned the bedsheets in my flood. I asked Daddy to sperm on me to close because I wanted to wear his semen. He straddled my chest and, punctuated by small licks over the glans, masturbated himself. He blasted over my tits to make them grow.

Lastly, I went to a conference in Pennsylvania at the beginning of October. I took a rental car and drove from Massachusetts. Around two thirty in the morning, I needed a pit stop, coffee, and a bite to eat. I stopped at a diner along the highway. A man seated alone invited me to join him at a small table. Rather than eating by myself, I accepted. He was a trucker and got to talking about life on the road. Intrigued, I asked for a tour of the truck. The living quarters of the eighteen wheeler were claustrophobic. A bunk bed occupied much of the space. Neatly stacked plastic storage containers lined the top bunk. The bed below was immaculately made. He didn’t wear a wedding band, I noticed. I took a chance and kissed him. His tongue dipped into my open mouth. He leaned his weight toward me; my back bowed backward. My fingers worked his belt buckle apart. I shed my jacket and divested myself of clothes. The cab was chilly. He turned the heat up for me. I sat on the edge of the mattress and sucked his penis to hardness. When I was satisfied with how it shined, I tossed the condom I unearthed from my purse at him. He nursed at my teats and lowered his weight atop my body. My arms wrapped his broad shoulders. I spread my legs in the air. The bedsprings gave a metallic creak. The floor seemed to shift slightly, but I may have imagined this. I sprawled in his arms after sex. We had breakfast in the same diner in the morning. I bought a fresh box of condoms from the convenience store at the gas station nearby, and we had a quickie for the road.

These episodes are exceptional. The majority of the sex during the past three months has been pedestrian. Craigslist is less effective than I remember. It has gotten me laid, yes, but the men I have met in Boston through the agency of the casual encounters board have exhibited little promise. Random hookups still happen, but the frequency has diminished since London. Ideally, I want more than another one night stand. The unrepeated fucks are temporary expedients and stopgap measures. Save for David, sex constitutes only a physical release. It lacks an intellectual or emotional connection. The dildo is sometimes more satisfying than a man. I haven’t been on the hunt as regularly as before. This is just as well. Research and grading papers have kept me busy this semester. Marking exams is a bitch. I expect to defend my thesis in May. The dissertation needs much work this spring.

I still play flute when I can with a chamber group. We don’t perform. We rehearse challenging music for fun. Nearly every morning, I spend an hour at the gym. On Friday nights, I go dancing — usually at gay clubs. Liz and Sophie, two close friends, like making out with girls. We have done a fair amount of kissing and fondling bodies through club wear. It hasn’t ended with tongue circling clit and my mouth imbibing cunt or thighs clamping a head in a viselike grip with fingers pulling the roots of hair and making indentations in the scalp as my pussy fountains against the touch of lips. We haven’t tribbed. Perhaps one day we shall.

I will most likely be in a new city next fall. Where? I don’t know. The job applications are out. I enjoy what I can of Boston while I am living here. I keep busy.

Farewell, lover September 12, 2011

Posted by Leah in Bondage, Buggery, Cunnilingus, D/s, Fellatio, Fisting, Fucking, Repeated hookups, Spanking.
5 comments

I am back in the United States. I have two more stories to tell about London. I had my final Wednesday date with Amadeo. Frank came to visit on Friday and saw me off to Heathrow on Saturday. Both these goodbyes were tinged with sadness. I am friendly with Marshall, the man I have seen several times during the last weeks. Though we have out of this world sex, we aren’t especially tight. I am not broken up about leaving him. With Amadeo and Frank, the situation is different. I miss them terribly.

On the seventh day of the month of September in the year two thousand and eleven, Amadeo brought me to subspace one last time.

He took me in every orifice. Using my ears as handles, he throat fucked me. The saliva spilled from my mouth, falling in thick ropes that left a puddle on the floor. The tug of wrists wrenching both of my arms from their sockets, he impaled my anus onto his cock and battered my ass from behind. He pinned my wrists high above my head with one of his enormous paws, and while his cock pounded my cunt, I sucked and bit on the fingers in my mouth. After I came, he licked my puffy and swollen pussy with an abundance of gentleness. I brought his hands to my breasts while he ate me out. He deposited kisses over the water smooth pubis and swirled his tongue round and round the orgasm engorged clit. The pussy licking was the prelude to a fisting. It took him twenty minutes to squeeze inside. I couldn’t see it happen — not fully — flat as I was on my back, breathing hard, and clenching the sheets. I concentrated on his speech, and he talked me through the process of fitting his hand into my cunt until the muscles at the entrance stretched like a rubber band about his wrist. I was a mitten. I was a glove. My hair was swimming in sweat. I resided in a hazy and contented place with his fist inside.

Amadeo’s aftercare was exquisite. He held me protectively.

He took me over his lap and spanked me. The barehand blows landed over my buttocks in fortissimo thunderclaps that set my ass to rippling. The heat seared into the flesh. The skin turned an angry red. The muscles ached. Wriggling his hand between my thighs, Amadeo discovered a sopping cunt. In the intervals, he fingered my pussy lips and clitoris. He left no bruises but nevertheless walloped me until I was beyond screaming. Tears bespoke pain. But I was also aware that this could be the end. I will miss our nights together. Orgasm came to me in an adrenaline and endorphin fueled rush.

I brought a blubbering face to his penis and sucked him softly, savoring his scents and flavors, the heft of his cock between my lips, and the taste of precome on my tongue. When he was perfectly rigid and yearning, I placed a condom over the erection. Amadeo took me slowly from above. The cock imposed itself to the balls, then retreated completely. My hands tightened on his arms and shoulders, and I kissed him. He kept removing the penis from my cunt and slapping the shaft over my pubis. He painted the moisture from inside over the skin.

I went to sleep with the meter long chain that attached to my collar looped around the headboard of the bed. Amadeo’s recumbent body radiated its heat next to me. He had begun on his side, spooning me, with an arm folded over my breasts. We were both horizontal now, stretched out and supine. He took in deep breaths of air in his sleep. I fingered the cold metal links of the chain and shut my eyes. My pussy was sore from fucking.

In the shower in the morning, I took pleasure in washing his body. I rinsed soap from his underarms and followed with kisses. I used foam to pattern white arcs over his backside. I tasted the skin that I had cleaned. I sponged his cock and sucked him under the water stream. After the orgasm, which produced only the smallest spoonful of ejaculate, I extended Amadeo’s left leg and kissed my way down to his ankle. Taking his foot in hand, I licked along the arch. Fingernails scratched the sole and tickled. I sucked his big toe just as I had minutes before sucked his glans. My tongue flickered into the crevice between the big toe and the longer one next to it. I lapped at the top of the foot and along its sides. My lips left kisses over the pads of his toes. I pressed the sole against my cheek, and I nosed at the heel.

Once we had reversed positions, Amadeo held the showerhead and pointed it over my body. I closed my eyes and stood on my toes, wrapped my arms around his neck, and enjoyed the unhurried kisses while he soaped my tits and back. Bringing my arms in the air, he washed my armpits and flank. He rubbed in circles over my belly, skirted the pussy, and continued on to my legs. I propped a foot on his knee as soapy hands slid along the leg. He scrubbed between the toes. After he had rinsed my cunt lips, he pressed his face down hard and licked me. Turning me against the wall, he gnawed the flesh of my buttocks and the hollow of the neck where it meets the shoulder. He shampooed my hair with exceptional care. I went to my knees again and let the back of my head brush against his penis.

On the drive to the university, whenever he could spare it from the stick shift, he placed his hand on the inner part of my thigh. Rising to tiptoes, I wrapped his shoulder and back and hugged him next to the car when we arrived. We kissed, once, twice, and held each other. I waited for him to dissolve the hug. I clasped his right hand in my left and his left in my right. We drifted apart.

“Farewell, lover,” I whispered. Then louder: “See you around.” The smile reached his eyes.

I don’t know what I can say about Frank. The fucking was likely the purest sex I have had in London. It wasn’t the all night orgy some of our previous encounters were. We did it once in the evening and again in the morning. We did it in my flat, on my bed, over sheets I abandoned, with my packed luggage by the side of the door. It was funny. It was comfortable. We had intensely personal conversations and companionable silences. It wasn’t the least bit romantic. The sex affirmed a friendship, one that, I hope, will endure through the distance and the decades.

It will be ages — well, months — before my next rendezvous with either of these men. It will happen though. And possibly we will renew our acquaintance in bed. I would like that very much.

I will write another post soon.

Names I have been called August 25, 2011

Posted by Leah in Bondage, Cunnilingus, D/s, Fisting, Fucking, Masturbation, Repeated hookups, Spanking.
6 comments

Bitch, bitch dog, bitch whore, ass bitch, bondage bitch, dirty bitch, filthy bitch, fucking bitch, little bitch, mongrel bitch, submissive bitch, well-trained bitch, blowjob bitch, cocksucking bitch, cocksucker, cock slave, mouth, cunt, fucking cunt, greedy cunt, little cunt, owned cunt, silly cunt, stupid cunt, pussy, used pussy, twat, scrotum licking twat, fuck puppet, fuck-toy, sex toy, favorite toy, plaything, glove for his fist, slit, slut, anal slut, ass slut, beautiful slut, god-damned filthy slut, good little slut, horny slut, kinky slut, Miss Slut, piss slut, pain slut, come slut, submissive slut, superslut, willing slut, urinal, whipping post, sub, whore, whore mouth, dirty whore, purchased whore, piss drinking whore, shameless whore, slutty whore, willing zero pound whore, ass, arse, asshole, dirty asslicker, little girl, naughty girl, bad girl, good girl, idiot girl, sub girl, three holes, come catcher, come receptacle, place where he comes, territory, marked property, possession, his body to use, his, all his.

These are some of the terms he uses for me — the descriptions in English anyway. The names are endearments. Amadeo may have unloaded half his arsenal of expletives on me last night.

He wrapped scarves about my wrists and ankles, looped a noose of yellow rope about the red silk on each limb, and tied me to the four corners of his bed. Once I was spread-eagled this way, he whipped my breasts and toyed with my pussy, using fingers, a vibrator, kitchen implements, and his tongue. The ball gag muffled my screams. The fisting was exquisite agony. The tension in my arms and legs when he smothered me with his body and fucked my long tormented and cock deprived cunt was unendurable ecstasy. I soaked his sheets.

Hard and pleasant use August 5, 2011

Posted by Leah in Bondage, Breath play, Buggery, Cunnilingus, D/s, Fellatio, Fucking, Masturbation, Repeated hookups, Spanking, Urine.
7 comments

Because of work commitments, I only had sex once this week, with Amadeo. It was another hard session. This is how it went.

• Amadeo tied my panties about my ankles and had me kneel on the sofa. I bent over the couch with my arms stretched horizontally along the back while he flayed my buttocks with his belt. I screamed through the ball gag.

• While I squirmed over his lap, he held my wrists firmly in one of his hands, forced my legs apart with his thighs, and spanked my pussy. As I haven’t waxed since before my vacation, I have a soft cushion of hair on my pubis. Amadeo used this as an excuse to spank me ten extra times.

• We employed restraints that passed over the door to bind my arms above my head. Amadeo attached nipple clamps to my breasts and whipped my tits as they had so far been left out.

• Finally, he slipped his fly open to expose his cock. I sat on the edge of the coffee table and sucked him off. I was conscious of the ache in my chest and how my ass smarted while I fellated him. Holding the sides of my face, he used my throat for a cunt. The saliva ran in rivers over his cock. The fluvial excess left puddles on the carpet.

• Amadeo didn’t come in my mouth. He peeled off his clothes and fucked me in the ass. I was on the floor, on knees and the balls of my toes with breasts flattened against the cushions of the sofa. He had me hold my cheeks apart for him as he battered his way into me. My buttocks were an angry red. He slapped them again with his bare hand as he fucked me. He told me that he liked to see the flesh ripple.

• A few fingers of whisky, and we were ready to go again. I slouched on my back with my head propped up against the back of the sofa. My feet hooked around his waist. Amadeo squeezed my tits as he probed my cunt with his cock. He jabbed his fingers into my mouth. I brought his hand to my throat. He clutched my windpipe and slipped his tongue past my lips. I enjoyed the kisses as much as I enjoyed his cock.

• He flipped the condom inside out and tipped the semen into the cup of his hand. I lapped the come from his palm. I played with it, stretching long strands between my fingers and breaking them as the triumphant runner tears the tape at the end of a race.

• After all this, Amadeo rested. He reclined on the sofa with his head cushioned by throw pillows against the side. My naked architect leafed through the correspondence of Vincent and Theo Van Gogh. He read aloud to me while I sucked softly on his scrotum and penis. We set the alarm on his iPhone. He wanted me to continue in this way for an hour. As he had come twice, a shifting touch of fingers and lips allowed him to last so long. My jaws were sore. I looked up at him as he finished himself off by masturbating.

• He shot his sperm into my panties. He took the semen wet cloth and rubbed it over my face. He anointed my forehead with his come. It moisturized the pores on my cheeks. To consume the leavings, I sucked hard on the fabric and twisted it until I could taste no more of Amadeo. I decided I would wear the same panties in the morning.

• He ordered me to masturbate in bed. I did so using the steel dildo that I keep in his apartment. He rubbed ice cubes over my breasts. He licked the melted water from my nipples. After the orgasm, he had me do it again because I had climaxed without seeking and acquiring his permission. He kept me going without coming for minutes after I asked, until I begged. Taking the dildo from my pussy, he slipped the ice cubes into my cunt and lapped the slit. When he told me to come, I did so on command. He bit my clitoris. The sharpness of his teeth fused pleasure with pain and augmented the intensity of the orgasm and the volume of my screams.

• In the bathtub in the morning, he blasted the shower at maximum heat and full pressure at my clitoris. I diddled myself until I climaxed, remembering to receive his consent first. Afterwards, we fucked in the hot stream. I went to my knees and drank the contents of his bladder. He hosed me down with it, my face and breasts. I spread my thighs so he could aim the flow at my cunt. I washed it in my hair as though it was shampoo.

• He drove me to the university and sent me to work wearing a buttplug in my anus. It remained in my ass until after lunch.

Flogged and fucked July 30, 2011

Posted by Leah in Bondage, Cunnilingus, D/s, Fucking, Repeated hookups, Spanking.
8 comments

A reader e-mailed me to ask what it feels like to mix pain with sex. I thought I might use my latest meeting with Amadeo to elaborate on the experience.

The two of us were naked in his bedroom. After eating me out until my juices dripped from his chin, Amadeo used cords of hemp rope to affix my left wrist to my left ankle and my right wrist to my right ankle. With my knees propped up, I laid diagonally on the mattress with my back flat. A pillow supported my head. The blindfold negated my vision. My nipples were swollen from the clamps he had employed half an hour before. He trailed the end of his belt softly along the inner surfaces of my thighs. The touch of leather over the pubis was feather light, gentle, very nearly inconsequential. It floated over the pussy lips, barely making any contact with them. It almost tickled. Then he brought the end slashing down.

A searing pain began in the labia. Circles of hurt radiated outward as the nerves responded. I winced at the blow. My knee pulled up and my body twisted over to one side. The abrupt and angry activation of the nerve endings set me to shaking. Chest heaving, I swallowed gulps of air.

He gave me a few seconds to gather my composure. I let my weight sink into the mattress and spread my thighs open for him in acquiescence. I remembered that he had turned my ass purple the last time we had played.

This time the belt landed directly over my clitoris. After the cunnilingus, the area was excruciatingly sensitive. The hood may have been down. It would have offered feeble defense even if it were not. I screamed. There weren’t words to the bellow. It was a loud confession of pain and rage. My pubis burned with a fiery ache. I squirmed on the mattress. Deep, tearless sobs wracked my body. By exertion of will, I forced myself to take large, steady breaths. I stretched open again and waited for the next sharp blow.

Anticipation stretched out in the silence of the room. My muscles were tense. There was a tightness in my respiration. When the blow came, he struck my clit again.

I called him a motherfucker and a bastard. I wriggled against my bonds and curled one of my thighs protectively over my cunt.

Amadeo very gently eased me to lie flat on the mattress again. A slight, but insistent pressure against my knees extended the chasm between them.

He hit my thighs at the crease where they met the pubis and continued over the legs, leaving my cunt alone. This hurt, but far less than before. When he mixed in the occasional blow to my pussy, I could tolerate this pain. The sensation was not as intense as what had transpired previously.

Amadeo spit on my cunt twice and rubbed the saliva over the lips with the knuckles of his hand. I knew that the next blows would hurt. I gripped the bonds between my hands and my feet, steadied myself, and waited. Indeed, he struck the labia as I had known he would. He missed slightly, so it was a glancing blow rather than a direct hit. He corrected for the mistake, compelling my knees open, flashing the leather down from immediately above. This one really scorched. I sobbed under the blindfold without actually crying and shrieked my fury at him. He folded the belt over and strapped me again. Quite deliberately, the sting landed in exactly the same place as the one before. I spit at him — it was the only thing I could do — but as I was blind, missed badly in my attempt. The globule of expectorate arced onto my breasts. He hawked in my face to show me how it should be done and slapped each of my cheeks.

He traded the belt for the cat-o’-nine-tails. He swung this instrument more freely and fiercely, with less precision than before. The multiple falls meant that several places would hurt at once. But the ache induced was also more diffuse. Additionally, I had gotten used to the whipping; the nerve endings became partially sensitized to the pain. He applied the tails to the thighs more than to the cunt. He lashed my arms, my belly, and then my breasts. I squealed impotently as the cat thudded against my tits. I heard the wooshing sound, the brief movement of air, the momentary breeze on my perspiring skin. Then came the hard landing and the needles shooting pain into the dermis.

At the last, he used the riding crop. “Bastinado,” he said, and he beat the balls of my feet. “Boobs,” he said, and slapped the breasts from the sides. “Ten over the cunt,” he said and made me count. In order to alter the direction of impact, I heard him change sides every few numbers. His hand soothed along the inside of my thigh and coaxed my legs apart. He whispered reassuring words. The gentleness stopped at speech, however. He didn’t moderate his strength.

Whipping is an exercise and an assertion of his power over me. That is the heart of its appeal. I am tied up. He can do what he wants. I surrender my body to his violence. I do this of my own accord. By refusing the security of the safeword, I volunteer to accept the next hard blow. I embrace the pain because a man to whose dominant character I have acceded gives it to me in his generosity. I wear his marks willingly over my skin. I feel so alive as the hurt is administered to me. This is my submission.

The tears started at three. My nose went runny at five. There aren’t words to describe the agony and torment I experienced at seven, eight, and nine. Ten impacted me as a blissful release. The suffering was finally over. Amid the bawling and the howling and the sniveling beneath the blindfold, I also laughed aloud at the completion of the whipping. An overriding sense of accomplishment accompanied the conclusion of the act. I had endured. The pain had excited the nerves. It made me feel awake to the moment. It echoed still. The flesh thrummed in tempo with my pulse. I hurt in places I could not name. This aroused me.

Amadeo kissed me and filled my open mouth with wine. This aroused me, too. He unknotted the rope that bound me. When both hands were free, I plucked the blindfold from my face and threw myself at him. I bit his lower lip and gave him my tongue, taking his. Large paws cupped my tits as we made out. The outside of my cunt throbbed. The muscles in my legs were suffused by ache. My shoulders smarted from being tied for so long. My ankles and wrists were raw from straining against the rope. Small, parallel welts crisscrossed the insides of my thighs. (Evidently, he had applied the cat with greater vigor than I had supposed.) My pussy lips were battered and bruised, deformed and sore. These were minor discomforts now.

“I want you to fuck me,” I told him. I stroked his cock, which was mostly hard.

He fumbled for a moment with the packaging of the condom, then gave up and bit the wrapper open. Once he was sheathed, he leaned his weight against my chest. Opening my lips for his, I fell backward. My legs spread, and his body occupied the room that I had made. I grabbed hold of the shaft and placed it at the entrance of my pussy. Gravity took care of the rest. Amadeo penetrated me, sinking all the way in all at once. I sighed in relief and happiness at the sudden fullness of my cunt. The presence of cock gratified me. It was the axis of my globe. Raising the pelvic floor, I collapsed the muscles of the vagina around the shaft. My ankles hooked about his buttocks, and my arms wrapped his back to compel him closer to me. He fucked me with energetic movements of the hips and pelvis. His lips told me with kisses and words how beautiful I was. His fingers combed through my hair, which was soaking wet. He had not come yet. I had barely touched his penis during foreplay. He did not last long inside my much abused pussy. He lasted long enough to have me convulsing about his erection in the half minute before his own climax.

Things that were in my cunt yesterday June 2, 2011

Posted by Leah in Bondage, Buggery, Cunnilingus, D/s, Fellatio, Fucking, Repeated hookups, Spanking, Urine.
3 comments

Ben Wa balls: I slipped them into my pussy after lunch. They shifted and teased me throughout the day. During spare moments, I compressed my muscles to give the pelvic floor a workout. I stood on the Jubilee line to Amadeo’s place. The spheres jostled as the train accelerated and decelerated. Amadeo discovered the Ben Wa balls and extracted them from my cunt when he stripped me down after dinner.

A pestle: Since he had cooked, I did the dishes after the meal. Once naked, I wore his belt around my neck. Amadeo had me sit on the counter, drew my legs apart, and spun into my cunt the ceramic pestle I had washed. He had earlier used it to crush spices. The texture was grainy and rough. I liked its coarseness against my labial folds.

Ice: Amadeo placed two ice cubes into my pussy. My body squirmed and my legs wriggled. He forcibly held my thighs open as he diddled my clit. The heat inside melted the water, which he drank from me as he licked.

His tongue and his spit: Obviously.

Two clothespins: In the bedroom, Amadeo arranged clothespins in spirals about my areolae. The way they stuck out reminded me of the quills of a porcupine. Stronger metal clips with teeth attached to each of the nipples. He secured the clothespins that were left over from his set of two dozen to my underarms and my navel. One peg of the clothespin on each side of the pussy entered my cunt. He used the pincers to tug my lips apart and licked the fissure in between.

Three fingers: When he fingered me, he shoved the three central fingers of his right hand into my cunt. He stabbed them in and out with ferocity until I came. After the orgasm, I lapped my juices from his hand. It was only when I had done this to his satisfaction that he removed the clamps from my nipples. They were sensitive and raw to the touch of fingers and lips. The rush of blood inside made the nerve endings throb.

A steel dildo: It is our favorite toy. I enjoyed having its heft inside, the way it compelled my pussy to stretch, how Amadeo curled it. He nudged it against the G-spot and the anterior fornix deeper inside.

The metal buckle of his belt: Just because.

The middle of the belt: Amadeo folded the leather over in half. He wet it in my pussy and used it to lash my buttocks. I gripped the headboard while he whipped me.

A vibrating egg: While I sucked his cock, the egg buzzed inside my vagina. It had a remote control. Amadeo made me moan around his penis each time he ramped the setting higher. At full power, the constant whirr made my muscles thrum. The egg remained in my pussy while Amadeo’s lubed up cock occupied my anus. At the end of this round, I laid on my belly, pubis rutting against a pillow. The vibrator purred over the G-spot while Amadeo prised my cheeks apart and pounded my asshole. The belt looped about my wrists. Arms bound behind my back, he hauled my body onto his prick.

Urine: Actually, this took place in the morning. Before we showered, Amadeo had me lie down in the bottom of the tub. He stood on the sides, his spread open legs directly over my head so that I could look up at the split of his muscular ass and the balls swinging above. He pissed, directing the flow at the cunt lips, which I peeled open for him. A quarter hour later, he came over my face. My index finger applied pressure to his prostate to enhance the sensations he experienced.

Amadeo’s cock: Of course.

The fountain May 28, 2011

Posted by Leah in Anilingus, Bondage, Cunnilingus, D/s, Fellatio, Fisting, Fucking, Masturbation, Repeated hookups, Spanking, Urine.
8 comments

He has tie points installed into the headboard and the footboard of his bedframe. He looped rope through them and had me spread-eagled over the mattress. Using first a wooden spatula from the kitchen and then a riding crop, he spanked my cunt. He struck the pussy lips past the point of pain and into a state of numbness. The blows landed exactly and accurately over the distended and exposed clitoris. I had asked him to do this to me.

Afterwards, Amadeo spread himself in the space between my stretched apart legs and worked his mouth over pubis and pussy. His tongue threaded into the folds of the flesh and teased the wetness out of me. He licked the engorged lips. His fingers reached inside and pushed against the G-spot. The pressure there made the clit stand out. I felt my spine elongate and extend while he lapped at the clitoris. My arms lengthened as I tugged at the bonds around my wrists.

Attendant to my arousal, the blood throbbed in the flesh. The clit trilled under his ministrations.

Amadeo would not let me come. He brought me to the escarpment and deliberately backed me off. He simply wouldn’t touch me, neither with his fingers, nor with his tongue while I hovered at the edge.

He turned his attention to my breasts instead. He licked around the areolae. He sucked on the nipples, bit down on the nubs, and chomped. The nerve endings screamed their pain. Lips gave voice to their agony.

Amadeo kissed me intimately. He looked down on me and stuck his tongue out as far as he could.

“Suck it like it’s my cock,” he said.

Lifting my head from the pillow, I brought my mouth over the point of tongue. I compacted my lips and kissed wetly there. Applying a loud and persistent suction that pulled the tonguetip inside past the rows of teeth, I closed my eyes and spun my face by degrees.

His fingers touched over my much abused pussy lips. He smeared the wetness that had escaped my cunt over them. Two fingers pressed in. He fucked them in and out.

“You’re not allowed to come without permission,” he stated.

Amadeo returned to sucking my nipples, far more gently this time. A pair of his fingers stretched all the way inside my vagina and pivoted within. The knuckles of the other fingers brushed over my pubis. Five minutes of this and I felt loose and wet inside. My muscles tightened about his hand. My ankles strained at the rope. My knees bent, and my thighs lifted up. Amadeo pushed my center flat against the mattress and continued fingering me while he nursed.

After a time, Amadeo compressed my breasts together and slid his cock between them. After a time, he straddled my head and gave me the front half of his penis to suck. After a time, he lowered his balls into my mouth and turned himself around so that I could rim his ass.

I craned my neck up and buried my face in the crevice of his buttocks. Nose riding into the crease, my tongue lapped at the exiguous ridges that surrounded the anus. He spread his cheeks so that I could lap more easily at the pucker. Gingerly, the tip of my tongue poked past his sphincter. He let me lick for a while, then returned his penis to my lips. From this position, he spread his body over mine so his weight was on top and initiated sixty-nine. His tongue circled my clitoris. He kissed into my cunt. The two fingers dug in again. He scissored them apart and slipped his tongue between the digits, which he fucked in and out while he tongued over slit and clit.

I moaned around the cock in my mouth and sucked harder. This caused him to redouble the exertions of his tongue. My saliva streamed down the sides of his shaft and made my face sticky.

“Tell me when you get close,” he said. While he applied suction to the clit, he also jabbed his penis against the roof of my mouth.

I didn’t have to tell him. He knew how to read my body and backed off on his own. He turned himself, crawled between my legs, and dedicated his endeavors to bringing me repeatedly to the precipice of a soaring orgasm. He brought me there, and he held me back.

I begged him to let me come.

He steadfastly ignored my entreaties. The look on my face, the desperate want, my needy pleas — these amused him. He brought a vibrator out and pressed it against the clit while he licked my opening. He extended the index and middle fingers inside as far as he could manage and rotated his hand at the wrist. He finger fucked the digits in and out swiftly and then returned to a slow turn while he lapped at the folds.

I stared down at him while he brought me to the ragged edge. I held tightly to the rope. My legs struggled with their bonds while I squirmed in my torment.

I wanted to come. I told him this again and again. I verbalized my desire, explaining to him how much I wanted my parole. I tried persuasion. I asked nicely. I requested him to shove me over the edge of this cliff to which he had led me. I implored. I pleaded. I beseeched. It was in vain, for he wouldn’t allow it. After some minutes, I stopped importuning him for consent. Rather, I screeched epithets.

“Not till I say so,” he insisted. He laughed at the names that I invented for him.

In addition to a change of clothes, toiletries, and a couple of articles of lingerie that he likes, I keep a steel dildo in Amadeo’s apartment. He placed it inside and fucked me with it. Initially, the metal was cold to the touch, but my body heat warmed it up. It felt extremely heavy — far more so than any cock. It filled me up. My muscles stretched to accommodate the unbending steel, especially when Amadeo angled it against the sides of my cunt. It was long enough that the massive rounded knob prodded at sensitive places deep within. To the reconnaissance of pussy, he supplied torque to twirl the metal inside me, which he knew I enjoyed. Mostly he fucked me with the dildo, using the strength in his powerful upper arm to control the depth and the velocity of the movements.

I panted hard. He diddled my clit. Looking down at my stretched out body, I focused my attention on my toes, how I wiggled them, on the grain of the footboard of the bed and the color of the oak, on how my legs stretched apart, bound as they were by rope. My eyes scrunched shut with the effort of concentration. Sweat beaded on my forehead and streamed down the sides of my face.

Under ordinary circumstances, I would have creamed hard repeatedly by the time we had arrived at this point in the evening. I could not come without permission, however. I inhabited a submissive place. I determined to play this game to its conclusion. My imperative was to obey his instruction. I would come only when he assented to my orgasm. I rationalized that it would be his gift to me.

Amadeo didn’t offer me his permission. But neither did he torture me for long. He extracted the dildo and laid it over the mattress of the bed. Cupping my tits with his large hands, he kissed me gently and for the longest time. His saliva lowered into my throat. His tongue explored the inner surfaces of my mouth and made my cheeks bulge. He sucked and nipped and nibbled and chewed upon my bottom lip. He touched the pussy lips with a profound softness and with infinite care. Not for the first time, Amadeo made love to me.

This interlude of gentleness was followed by partial fisting. Amadeo squeezed four fingers inside me and folded them on top of each other and located the thumb parallel and facing down in the valley of the digits. He turned the hand at the wrist and screwed the fingers in to their bottom bend. The knuckles pressed at me from below the cunt. My juices coated his hand in a thick grease.

I could have come at any instant. He needed only to give the word. But he didn’t. So I contained my orgasm. I was a bitch held at bay not by the ropes that restrained me, but by dint of willpower.

The bastard wouldn’t produce the order to let go. Instead, he rolled a condom over himself and provisioned me with his penis. He laid on top of me with the cock ensconced to the balls. He fucked my cunt with short rabbit thrusts. But mostly, he remained motionless over my body with his shaft embedded fully within. His massive frame crushed my breasts flat. He reached above my head and tugged the rope about my wrists. He gnawed at the cartilage at the top of my ear and spun his tongue around my earring. His cock lunged in and out in concise and punctuated bursts.

I gritted my teeth. I shook my head from side to side. I thought of mundane aspects of life to distract myself.

He didn’t complete. “I don’t come, you don’t come,” he said, and pinned me to the mattress with his cock.

He left the fuck unfinished, departed the bedroom, and returned from the kitchen with fruit that he fed me and water to rehydrate my parched throat. He sat on the mattress and read to me from Sade.

I needed to pee. He loosened the bonds and followed me into the bathroom. While I urinated from a sitting position, Amadeo had me spread my legs wide apart. He directed the flow of his piss at my pussy. The two streams joined. His urine and mine fell with a splash and tinkled together in the toilet. He pointed his penis higher and stepped closer to me. The urine fell over my belly and sheeted down my pubis. At the end of it, when our bladders had emptied, he gave me his glans to suck. I closed my eyes and took the crown into my mouth. My tongue blotted the tip of the residues of piss.

I went to my knees before the toilet and sucked Amadeo with a wet mouth and the consistent application of pressure. Droplets of pee dripped onto the floor from the lips of my pussy. After his thick and milky semen had barreled into my stomach, he ran his big toe along my slit, then helped me to my feet.

It was late. Amadeo said that he was spent. Rather than letting me masturbate myself, he promised to fuck me to orgasm in the morning. My disappointment was evident, but I acquiesced with as good grace as I could muster. We curled up naked beneath the covers and spoke in whispers. I fell asleep with his chest spooned against my back and one of his hands covering my breasts.

I woke at four in the morning. The latex sheathed penis fumbled at the gates of my cunt. My arms encircled Amadeo’s back. I raised my legs into the air and pulled him down by the shoulders. The instant he was in me, I was wide awake. The sex was uncomplicated. Amadeo pounded me from above. The shaft pistoned in and out with speed and metronomic precision.

“You can come,” he had stated when we started. He gathered my wrists in one his hands and lifted my arms high above my head. He kissed me.

The denial of orgasm in the hours previous left my nerves confused. I wasn’t on the edge any longer, and it took me long minutes to work up to a state of frenzy. When I was there, my pussy fountained.

The orgasm began deep in the walls of my vagina. It rippled from the interior out to the periphery. Every one of my nerve endings thrilled. First it was in my cunt exclusively. Then it was everywhere. I blinkered my eyes shut and saw the stars of the galaxy in supernova. Watery ejaculate gushed explosively from my pussy. It made an arc and sprayed onto his belly and rained back over my thighs and onto the clean, white bed linen. The penis slipped out of my cunt. Amadeo maneuvered it back in at once. He fucked me through the flood now. The liquid issued forth in waves and left the bedsheets sodden.

The inundation stilled momentarily. Then the paroxysms commenced again. My pussy spilled. Under such stimulation, Amadeo could not suppress his instinct to spew. The shaft convulsed, which set the walls of my vagina to quaking. The orgasm poured out of me one more time to match his eruption.

Hard play April 8, 2011

Posted by Leah in Bondage, Cunnilingus, D/s, Fellatio, Fucking, Repeated hookups, Spanking, Urine.
4 comments

I sent him a text before I left the apartment: I want you to be harsh with me.

Five minutes after he buzzed me up, Amadeo had me naked over his lap. His hand worked methodically over the back of my thighs and my buttocks. Though the skin turned red and raw, he kept going. His hand stung with the effort, so he bit, then switched to a paddle. I lost myself for twenty minutes in the blurry endorphin haze of sexual pain. Afterwards, he placed a sack of frozen vegetables atop my ass. Lying on the sofa, I sucked his cock to thank him for spanking me. He directed his come over my rear and smeared the semen into the inflamed, sensitive to touch, and throbbing skin. Two days later, red and purple splotches still decorate my ass. When I concentrate my attention, the nerve endings smart so delightfully.

Amadeo isn’t the deftest hand in the world with rope. It took him several attempts before he tied my wrists and ankles to the four corners of the small bed in the guest room. Once he had me spread-eagled thus, he sat on the edge of the mattress and read to me from the memoirs of Casanova. He recounted in his bright baritone the story of a Venetian woman abducted from her husband by eight masked men. Amadeo’s was a newer translation, but I looked up the passage on the internet on returning home.

Comforted by that promise, and as gentle as a lamb, she follows us to the “Two Swords.” We ordered a good fire in a private room, and, everything we wanted to eat and to drink having been brought in, we send the waiter away, and remain alone. We take off our masks, and the sight of eight young, healthy faces seems to please the beauty we had so unceremoniously carried off. We soon manage to reconcile her to her fate by the gallantry of our proceedings; encouraged by a good supper and by the stimulus of wine, prepared by our compliments and by a few kisses, she realizes what is in store for her, and does not seem to have any unconquerable objection. Our chief, as a matter of right, claims the privilege of opening the ball; and by dint of sweet words he overcomes the very natural repugnance she feels at consummating the sacrifice in so numerous company. She, doubtless, thinks the offering agreeable, for, when I present myself as the priest appointed to sacrifice a second time to the god of love, she receives me almost with gratitude, and she cannot conceal her joy when she finds out that she is destined to make us all happy. My brother Francois alone exempted himself from paying the tribute, saying that he was ill, the only excuse which could render his refusal valid, for we had established as a law that every member of our society was bound to do whatever was done by the others.

I embellished on what happened to her, and this entertained Amadeo greatly.

He kissed me, his tongue intimate in my mouth. He toyed with my tits, licking the curves of my breasts, nursing at the nipples.

He asked me if I liked Jackson Pollock. The question was incongruous. I am not overly excited by abstract expressionism and indicated as much.

“Too bad. I like him.”

Amadeo produced candles: blue, white, red, and yellow. He lit them and used my chest as a canvas painting the wax in streaks over the hummocks of my breasts and the depression of my belly. He collected the wax in mounds atop the areolae. The candle wax dripped onto my body from a height. The contact on the skin made me gasp, but it did not hurt. He continued the lines lower to my pubis. I asked him to inscribe his initials there, and we agreed that I looked colorful and pretty.

After this artistic interlude, Amadeo attached large black binder clips to each of my nipples, another to my cunt lips, and a pair of smaller ones under each of my arms. He squeezed the pincers, tugged and twisted. Amadeo slapped my breasts.

When I winced and squinched my eyes shut and turned my head away, he yanked hard on my hair. A gob of expectorate landed on my forehead.

“Eyes open, slut. Look at me,” he insisted. The back of his hand cuffed the side of my face. He mangled the nipples by tightening his grip on the binder clips and rotating.

I screamed. My shoulders heaved. The tears spilled over my eyes.

He removed the clip from my cunt. “Count,” he said.

His face hovered over mine. I tasted the whisky on his breath.

He spanked my pubis.

“One,” I announced, eyes meeting his.

The fingertips tightened on the lips and screwed them left and right. He slapped again, and my whole body flinched.

“Two.”

Though my eyes swam out of focus, I kept them open and directed at my lover’s face.

I counted the slaps to twenty. At the end, I shrieked the numbers out. He took huge swings and followed through on the movement of his arms. Between the blows, he fingered the pussy and tweaked the six clips, contorting especially the big ones on my tits. When he removed the binder clips after the spanking, my underarms felt like they had been stung by bees. Blood filled the pinched nipples. His teeth snapped one up, and he flicked the roof with his tongue. The nerves sang.

I laughed uncontrollably. Sweat and tears had made my makeup run. My nose was watery. My throat was parched. I asked for a drink to rehydrate myself. Amadeo straddled my head and lowered his penis to my lips. The urine whispered out in the dim light. He controlled the release of his bladder so that I could swallow it down. The scent of the ammonia made my nostrils flare. The piss was hot in my mouth, acutely salty, but otherwise without taste.

“I will spank you again if you spill,” he warned.

Listening to the hiss, I raised my head and gulped to keep pace with the flow.

“Good girl,” he said. “You’re a good girl.” He chased his pee with his tongue.

He let me suck his cock to hardness and then pressed the underside of the shaft against the entrance of my pussy. The glans lifted nearly to my belly.

“Condom,” I warned.

He sheathed himself, and then he fucked me. The movements of his pelvis made my blistered ass sink into the sheets of the bed and ride up. It was all pain, and then it was all pleasure. My hands and my feet contended with the bonds, which tightened the knots and reduced the give of the rope. The impact of his chest against my body flattened my breasts. I bit his shoulder.

Toyed with as I had been for over an hour, I was close to orgasm, and he knew it. “Ask for permission to come,” Amadeo demanded.

I asked, and he refused. I begged, and he said no. I spit in his face, and he bit my lip, laughed, and said no again. The penis jabbed into me harder. I crushed the vaginal muscles about the shaft when it filled me and held myself at bay.

“I am going to slap your face three times. You can come after that,” he said. His hand squeezed a bruised breast.

Left.

Right.

Left.

The flat fingers struck in rapid sequence turning my head. The penis stabbed inside to the balls.

I lost control, gushing around his shaft. The ejaculate flooded from me and drenched the sheets. The walls of the vagina went into spasms. The orgasm seemed to begin deep inside my belly and radiated to my extremities. I wrenched at the ropes that tied me to the four corners of the bed. The solid oak posters vibrated. The bed rocked slightly to the side. The wetness that emanated from my cunt left our thighs sticky. The scents of sex, sweat and pussy, enveloped our bodies like a thick fog. Through this veil, all I could see was him. My cheeks burned.

Amadeo held himself within, rigid and unmoving through the orgasm. When I finished, he recommenced the pumping movement of his hips, pushing off with his arms on the bed and thrusting down. My cunt went into new convulsions, the tremors now fluid, one orgasm trembling into the next. Amadeo could not hold out for long. His back arched. His cock twitched inside. His body crumpled on top of me.

When his breathing had equilibrated to merely ragged, he extracted his soft-hard penis, and he sat next to me, and he fingered my cunt, and he kissed me. Eventually, he undid the bonds. While I cleaned myself up in the bathroom, flaking the wax from my skin, he returned from the kitchen with tall glasses of juice. I stripped the sheets, and then we proceeded to the big bedroom, where Amadeo read to me some more. He ate my pussy to orgasm, and after that we slept.