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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.

Edge play January 12, 2012

Posted by Leah in D/s, Fellatio, Repeated hookups.
2 comments

He texted me at four in the afternoon: When you see me tonight, wear clothes you don’t mind getting ruined. A few minutes later, one more text arrived: Bring a change of clothes for tomorrow. Evidently, he had a plan.

I wore sweatpants and a ratty sweatshirt from college that I sleep in sometimes. The tube brought me to Amadeo’s around 8:30. He buzzed me into the building. As I climbed the stairs to the apartment, I removed my woolen winter coat, which I did mind getting ruined.

Once he had let me in and I had set my coat and backpack down, he had me pressed up against the wall. He gripped my jaws and squeezed. The kisses were bites. He brought his hand under my sweatshirt and flattened the tits, which a sports bra held in place. His hand slapped the side of my face.

He dragged me into the kitchen and pushed my head down against the countertop. I saw the espresso machine from a sideways slant. He had my wrists pinned in back of me at a painful angle. His feet kicked apart my legs. A hand reached between my thighs and rubbed over my pussy, not at all gently. He spanked it.

Amadeo breathed heavily. He bit at my neck and shoulder.

“Do not move,” he stated in a harsh whisper.

He fumbled in the drawer and produced a knife whose serrated edge he flashed me. I froze in place as he bunched up the cloth where my legs joined and poked into it with the point of the blade. He made a rent in the sweatpants and then sawed through the panties so they flapped away from my pussy. The fabric at the pubis was held in place by the sweats.

His fingers sunk into my cunt, and he spun his wrist and fucked them in and out. They made wet noises.

“Turn around,” he said, and he released me so that I could. The blade went under my sweatshirt, and he sliced through. He knew what he was doing. He pointed the cutting edge of the knife away from me. The cloth tore audibly. When the tip of the knife peered past the collar, the sweatshirt split into halves. After that, he sliced open the sports bra.

“Down on the floor,” he said, fumbling with his trousers.

I had my hands on my knees, legs open, palms facing up, and I waited.

“Kiss it,” he said.

He meant the knife. My face reflected in the shiny stainless steel. I kissed the cold metal. His fingers threaded through my hair. He yanked the roots hard, and he pulled my head up. His fingers forced my mouth open. He aimed the blade past my lips so that the knife rested against my tongue. The blade dragged along the bottom row of teeth. Amadeo held the knife extremely still. I shut my eyes, and I closed my lips over it. I trusted this man implicitly. Very carefully, Amadeo eased the knife free of my mouth and set it on the counter.

My head leaned against the wooden cabinet. Amadeo pushed off the countertop with his hand and throat fucked me with his cock. I made glugging noises. The saliva overflowed my lips and dribbled down my chin. My fingers were in front of me. I rubbed my clit through the hole in my sweats. This was an automatic gesture. My brain concentrated on breathing.

My eyes were directed at the ceiling when he came. The curve of his hand shucked along the underside of the penis. Semen slashed my cheek like a liquid whip.

Piss service January 6, 2012

Posted by Leah in Buggery, D/s, Fellatio, Repeated hookups, Urine.
5 comments

Because it doesn’t fit in the last post, I separately relate one further episode regarding my Thursday morning. I haven’t performed a piss service since I left London. Urine isn’t one of David’s kinks. My other erstwhile regulars are now so irregular that there hasn’t been an opportunity for me to play this way.

This is how it went.

We were awakened at six by the alarm. After two snooze cycles, Amadeo and I got out of bed. We had made certain to schedule time for morning sex, but as Amadeo needed to go to the office, it was past time to ready ourselves for the day.

I used the toilet first. I had my legs separated as I sat on the throne. Amadeo knelt in front of me. His palm cupped my pussy. I released in short bursts that covered his hand. He wiped the fingers over my tits and replaced them to collect more of my pee. He slapped my cheek with urine wet fingers when I had finished and made me lick the skin clean.

Then, while I knelt in the bathtub, he stood on the sides and waved his penis at me. I looked up at Amadeo with mouth open wide, expectant, a baby chick waiting to be fed.

He hosed me down. The urine landed on my forehead. I closed my eyes and let the piss cascade down my cheeks. The heat fell along the sides of my nose as Amadeo pointed the flow at my mouth. I gargled his pee. I took a swallow, but let most of the urine overflow my lips. It ran down my throat and landed on my breasts.

Amadeo kicked my shoulder with his left foot. I leaned my body backward against the side of the tub and spread my legs for him. The stream of piss landed on my pubis. I peeled the pussy lips open so that my cunt gaped up at him. He urinated into it. After that, he shook the last drops free. They landed on my thigh.

When he had finished, I held the piss inside as long as I could. My body tilted forward as I sat. While the urine sloshed out of my cunt, I ran my fingers over the labia. I licked my hand to taste him again. Then I fellated the cock. Amadeo left the bathroom briefly to retrieve condoms and lube, which he poured onto my ass and smeared on the sphincter. The tip of a finger penetrated me and coated the ring of muscle with lubricant. Suppressing a heaving reaction to the horrid taste of latex, I sucked him again.

He sodomized me. At some point, he turned on the shower. Like the sex, the water was scalding hot.

For auld lang syne January 6, 2012

Posted by Leah in Breath play, Buggery, Cunnilingus, D/s, Fellatio, Fucking, Repeated hookups, Spanking.
9 comments

Amadeo cooked. It was a five course meal: antipasto, primo, secondo, contorno, dolce, with a bottle of Chianti Riserva. We caught up over the meal. I had missed talking to him. I asked whether he has a new girl. He laughed and said no, but he is back on Craigslist looking to see if he can get lucky a second time. I offered to write him a reference. He hasn’t been entirely celibate since I left London, but then neither have I. With me, David focuses on bondage and, to a lesser extent, pain. I have missed the other faces of dominance.

After the meal, we went to the bedroom. Amadeo sat on the edge of the mattress and rolled up his sleeves. I stripped out of my top and my jeans in as sexy a manner as I could. I sat on his lap and used my ass to coax his penis to hardness. Amadeo shifted the hair to the side to expose my neck. His tongue licked the nape and descended to the shoulders. His hands cupped my breasts through the white bra. He undid the clasp and slipped his palms under the cups. His teeth nipped the side of my throat. The back of the thong covered hardly anything at all. The string bisected my ass. He pulled me backward by the elastic ringing my hips and kissed me possessively. The tongue in my mouth was confident and knowledgeable.

When he stripped, he wanted to whip me with his belt, but I asked him for a barehand spanking instead. I wanted the touch of skin against skin. I had missed sixteen Wednesdays with him. Moreover, I had missed his birthday, which was at the end of September. He made up for the lost time. I was over his lap for an hour. I squirmed. I shrieked out in hurt. I cried. His hand made the skin burn. The blows were sudden. He put the strength of his upper body into them. The solidity of cock under me aroused my pussy even as the powerful slaps to the buttocks caused pain. To moderate the stimulation a little, he rubbed his fingers over the lips of my dripping cunt. A wet hand seems to hurt me more than a dry one: there may have been an ulterior motive. I called him a motherfucker after one particularly hard strike. The next ones were harder. He kept hitting the same places repeatedly, to augment the intensity of the experience. Every so often, he raised my ass and stooped to lick and kiss over the spaces where his hand had landed. On occasion, these kisses morphed into bites. The skin was already tender. I felt the points of the canines and incisors. The endorphin rush was immense whenever Amadeo would recommence after a pause. He stopped only because his hand hurt too much to continue. I kissed his palm and the tips of his fingers. I sucked the digits one by one, slowly, as though each were his cock. I thanked him. I liked that his vigor had marked my skin.

In the morning, in the shower, with bruises still evident, Amadeo would fuck my ass. His foot would press my face against the tub while hot water beat upon my back from above and spiraled down the drain under my head. For the moment, he sent me to my knees.

My buttocks, which continued to blaze — in some places with a diffuse ache, in others with a throbbing hurt — hovered above my heels. Before I started sucking him, he filled the cup of my hands with his expectorate to lubricate their touch on his cock. I supplemented this by smearing the wetness leaking from my cunt onto his balls. Foreplay was brief. I hadn’t tasted his cock in so long. I was greedy for it. The flat tongue trailed along the sides of the shaft. I licked the underside from the pedestal to the crown. The pinch of fingers eased the foreskin down, and I softly kissed the glans. The salt of his precome instilled in me a condition of absolute longing. I wrapped my lips about the bulbous knob and lowered. My face rotated as it sunk. It wasn’t long until I had the penis installed deep in my throat. Pushing off from his thighs, I swallowed him repeatedly from the tip to the root. My spit waterfalled down his balls. Amadeo’s hands tweaked my nipples. He reached down between my legs for my cunt, which was sopping.

Amadeo found a use for the belt. He folded it in half and extended the leather against the back of my head and pulled with his arms to keep his erection ensconced in my throat. I fellated the cock until he came, and I showed the semen in my mouth before I swallowed.

If it had been nearly four months since I had tasted him, it was also almost four months since he had tasted me. Amadeo feasted between my legs, but he told me I wasn’t allowed to orgasm until his cock occupied my cunt. I gripped the sheets and held on. His tongue squeezed between the labial folds. He tugged them with his lips. He scratched the evening shadow on his cheeks over my sensitive, waxed pubis. I loved how his fingers pressed against the G-spot to bring the clit into prominence. He lapped at the distended nerves. The hood peeled off. His lips sucked hard over the nub. It was the points of his teeth that did it. When he bit, I shrieked. My ass bucked up from the mattress. The pleasure of cunnilingus had made me forget about how sore my buttocks were, but the friction reminded me as my ass slid laterally over the bed. My body tensed. I groaned and came despite my will.

Amadeo found a second use for his belt. He brought it over my pussy ten times in succession to punish me for coming too quickly and without his consent. Each time, once I had finished flailing, I caught my breath, thanked him, and in my best Oliver Twist voice asked for more. This made him chuckle.

Afterwards, Amadeo was beyond hard. He rolled a condom onto his shaft and entered me from above. A much missed cock attached to a much missed man plugged my pussy. I wrapped my arms about his back, and I hugged him to me. The sense of completion, the sense of fullness, the sense of belonging overwhelmed me. I wept. More so than the spanking or the blowjob or the cunt licking or the pussy whipping, this brought me to a submissive place. Through the veil of my tears, I beseeched him to fuck me. I spread a little more and enfolded my legs about his thighs.

Amadeo admonished me in his strict voice to ask him for permission to come this time.

He knew what he was doing with his cock. He had come once already, so on the second pass he could hold out on his orgasm. When I asked him for permission, he denied me. The first time he slowed a little to help ease me away from the edge. The second time, he showed no such mercy. “Not till I say yes,” he said, and he fucked me harder and faster. His hand covered my throat and squeezed.

Under his weight, I groaned and wailed. I balled my hands into fists and beat them against his back. I gritted my teeth and absorbed the force of his thrusts. The tears did not stop. After one minute or two, I asked him again and was rebuffed a third time. His tongue entered my mouth. My back arched up. My nails dug into his shoulders. I restrained myself from climaxing.

“You can come,” he said soon after, though I didn’t make a fourth request. Another couple strokes of the piston inside me was all it took. I squirted with his cock inside. The ferocity of the orgasm, a convulsing of the vaginal muscles and the release from deep inside expelled his penis from my pussy. The jet of ejaculate launched out of me like an arc of fireworks. After the initial spume, the waters escaped me like a river spilling its banks. The flood left his bedsheets drenched.

Amadeo laughed, and then so did I. He replaced his erection in my cunt and proceeded to fuck me again. My orgasms came continually after that. The little ones were frequent. These were small tremors in the vaginal walls and near the lip of the pussy. The middle ones were the G-spot orgasms produced by the friction of his cock in its slippery, sliding movement inside. The large ones came as sprays. The liquid coursed around the obstruction of his penis and squeezed through the circumference at the opening. Though less explosive than the first gush, these overloaded my nerves. It was an excess of pure physical sensation, but it was also an emotional release. I let go.

Time lost meaning. Amadeo may have fucked me for another half hour or it may have only been a few more minutes. His body tensed. His arms extended and locked and kept the weight of his upper body above my chest. I saw the rugged sinews in relief. He closed his eyes tightly, and his forehead scrunched in concentration. His thighs drove the pelvis down. His pelvis kissed mine as the cock imposed itself to the root. The shuddering of the penis set the walls of my vagina to quaking. I tensed and had one more orgasm of my own. He kissed me gently in its aftermath. The hair on his groin tickled my pussy.

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.

Simon says December 30, 2011

Posted by Leah in D/s, Fellatio, Repeated hookups.
16 comments

I saw David before I left for the Xmas holiday, and I saw him again before heading out to the UK. He and I played Simon Says last night. The penalty for each transgression of the rules was one drop of candle wax on a sensitive place. From experimentation, we knew that it would hurt like hell but would not leave marks on the skin. I would be bound while he administered the penalty.

It started easily enough: “Simon says strip.” I did.

David stood and undressed and sat naked on the easy chair in his living room. “On your knees,” he instructed, and I properly ignored the command. He smiled and repeated it with the appropriate preface. I complied. His cock was hard. He stroked it. I began crawling to him.

“Simon didn’t say come here, bitch,” remarked David.

“I am sorry.”

“Simon didn’t say you could talk either.”

I froze and waited. David was a bastard sometimes. His students must hate that he was a stickler for rules.

“Come here.”

I didn’t so much as blink.

“Simon says wash my feet.”

I walked to the kitchen, soaped up the sponge in the sink, and went to him. On my knees, I scrubbed his feet clean and dried them with the dishtowel. Clearly, this wasn’t what he expected, but the rules had been followed. My aspect was smug in consequence.

David thrust the sole of his foot at my closed lips. “Lick,” he said. I turned my face to the side. The foot swatted at my cheek.

He pointed his penis upright. “Cunt,” he said. (It was wet.) “Simon says lick my balls.”

This I happily did. My lips applied suction to the hemispheres of the scrotum. I tongued the sac as I held each testicle between my lips. I spread my jaws and took both of the balls inside together. The tongue lapped at the coarsely textured skin. He kept me at it for long minutes. Thick saliva coated the balls. Because it pleased him, he fingered my nipples. He pinched them tight and dug his nails in. I winced at the abrupt jolt of pain, but I continued my oral ministrations on the scrotum without interruption.

“Suck my cock.”

I looked up at him. My lips steadfastly munched on his balls.

“Good girl. Simon says deepthroat.”

This was patently unfair. I yawned immensely and lowered my mouth on the shaft as far as I could manage in the absence of preparation. Suppressing the gag reflex, I filled my mouth with spit and made a concerted effort to reach his balls. I had three-quarters of his length inside.

“That isn’t deepthroat,” he said. His hand pressed on the back of my head and compelled me down. By instinct, I resisted, pulled away, and coughed.

“That counts as three and four.”

I took the crown into my lips again. I made my throat loose and forced myself to take the cock in to its root. By sheer effort, I accomplished the feat. My eyes were watering when I had the knob seated in my throat. My lips kissed the lip of his sac. The hand on top of my head held me down longer than was comfortable. Tears escaped the corners of my eyes when David let me surface for air.

“Now suck,” he said. I did. I realized that this was my fifth infraction a microsecond after I had commenced the act of fellatio. David noted it, too. He slapped the side of a tit.

He glanced at his watch. “Simon says make me come. Simon says you have exactly five minutes.”

David has stamina. I pulled out all the stops in the time allotted. I tried but failed. Even the index finger pushed up against the prostate didn’t do the trick.

“Six,” he intoned.

I nodded.

“Well, keep sucking.”

I didn’t.

“Simon says suck me slow.”

I kissed the crown, tongued around the glans, took the head inside, and glacially slid my lips down the shaft. I took the penis in by degrees. To begin, I had the top half of it contained in my mouth on the downstroke, then two-thirds, then three-quarters. He sighed expressively and let me suck him slowly, softly, and with intent. I rotated my face and collapsed my cheeks and lifted my tongue against the underside of the rigid cock. The spit leaked from my lips and trailed to his balls. I scratched the insides of his thighs. His eyes were shut in contentment. Though I kept mine downcast for the most part, once a minute or twice, I tilted my head up, which lifted his penis, and glanced upon his countenance with enormous eyes that blinked slowly closed. My face lowered and twisted on his shaft. The constitution of the cock flesh altered minutely between my lips. It went on. I don’t know how long I sucked him this way. I felt the solidity of the hardwood floor in my knees and the balls of my toes. The discomfort enhanced in me the sense and the quality of my submission.

Suddenly, David’s hands grabbed the sides of my head. He fucked my mouth as though it was my cunt. The pelvis flared out, and he lifted from his seat to penetrate deeper and harder. He was suspended in air when his musculature tensed. An iron grip obliged me to keep the glans inside my throat.

“Swallow,” he said when he had finished his spasms. The shape of the orgasm and the geography of our bodies left me no choice. It was done already. His semen barreled directly into my esophagus.

He cast me back and chuckled softly.

“Salmon says clean me off.”

I licked the sides of the shaft and curled my tongue at the pearl of come lodged within the aperture.

“I said Salmon says, not Simon says,” David observed, pointedly.

I hadn’t noted the first word. He may have slurred it. This was surely cheating. I laughed at his audacity. To avenge myself, I took the skin of the right half of the scrotum between my teeth, bit down, and tugged. I persisted in washing the cock.

“Game over. Simon says game over,” David announced, after I had finished. “Let’s call it nine.” His fingers swept over my slit and brushed against the clit.

Cocksucking had aroused me. I wondered how long it would be before David fucked my pussy. I wanted him to dominate me. I wanted to rut on hands and knees. I wanted to compress the walls of my cunt about his shaft. I wanted to come for him repeatedly, at his word, and be the agency of his pleasure. I nosed at the balls and kissed wetly where I had a moment ago nipped. The penis folded over the scrotum. It reminded me of an elephant’s trunk. The head hung below the testicles. I sunk low and mouthed the glans. Kisses led to his feet. I licked above the toes.

“Leah says ten.”

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.

The first hour September 2, 2011

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

Unfortunately, I don’t have time to compose a full report. These are highlights of the first hour or so on Wednesday night. I will write up Thursday later.

• Amadeo’s apartment has a large bathroom. He made me go to the floor there and strip. I took off my top and my bra and wriggled out of the curve hugging, little black skirt I had worn. The polka dotted cotton panties followed. Amadeo had been holding his bladder in check for quite a while. He told me he needed to go when we entered the tube and already shifted his weight on each foot. He did the same now, except this time his fly was open. He held his cock in his hand. When I was naked aside from thigh high black stockings, he kicked my legs apart and pissed onto my cunt.

• He straddled my body with knees bent. The arm I had behind me supported my weight. My right hand stroked his thigh. I sucked cock. To start, my tongue circled the foreskin, which had the sharp and pungent taste of urine. Within a few minutes, I had the crown embedded. I squeezed with the muscles of my throat just how he liked. The floor was now slippery, so I slid as I fellated. The still warm liquid wet my thighs and buttocks.

• Amadeo sat on the edge of the bathtub. I stood, turned away from him, and, bending at the waist, grasped my shins and asked him to fuck me with his foot. He manipulated the labial folds. The pads of his toes skated along the slit. He squeezed his big toe past the entrance of my pussy. I gripped my ankles, which lowered my center of gravity. He fucked me harder. Eventually, I laid recumbent on the floor, with my hair in his cold piss. His toes masturbated me to orgasm.

• He fucked my cunt in four positions: (1) up against the door, my foot on the floor, his arm hooking under the other knee and holding me against the wood by the throat with his cock buried to the hilt; (2) on top facing away while he laid in the puddle of his own urine and fingered my clit; (3) on hands and knees as he plugged me from behind until my elbows buckled, after which he took me on shoulders and knees; (4) on my back, on the cold and clammy floor, my thigh up against his chest as he slammed me while lying on his side below my body.

• He stood straddling my chest and jerked himself off. From my perspective, the columns of his legs lifted like skyscrapers. I smoothed my hands over the shins and calves. Some part of the semen landed on my face as he had intended. Some of it also fell to the floor. The last drops, which he shook free of the cock, rained on my tits. He held my neck to ground while I dragged my tongue over the floor and sucked the ejaculate from the tiles. He tilted my head to the ceiling with a violent tug on the hair and kissed me after I had swallowed.

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.