Drown Me, You Make My Heart Beat Like the Rain

He calls me Pooh in the sweetest, most endearing tone of voice. I can’t explain the complex web of emotions it brings about in me. When coupled with his beckoning me to his mouth for sweet kisses, I can barely breathe. He cups and sucks and lathes my breasts, showering them with attention. His eyes meet mine while he does and I can do little more than pant and squirm against him. He groans against my nipple and nuzzles the pale flash.

“I could spend a whole day here, just sucking and kissing and nibbling your beautiful tits,” he mumbles into my skin.  Continue reading

Caught Your Eye, Across the Room

“There’s a certain decadence,” he opined. “In reading something and listening to your woman pleasure herself, just… enjoying the noises she makes.”

I suppose this is especially true when you’re doing it for the sake of his pleasure, and he knows it. You could be doing it anywhere else: in the shower, in the next room, not in ear shot, not right beside him, not so close he could smell your pussy. But you chose for him to hear you, to listen to you come while you touch yourself.

Then you come.

“Did that feel good, baby?”

“Yesss… yes,” you pant.

“But I think you need another, because you got my dick hard,” he murmurs. Continue reading

Give as Good as you Get

“You see, I’ve had something on my mind, and I simply can’t… finish this conversation till I alleviate my poor brain.”

“Oh? Go for it,” he says, and I can see the hint of a smirk at the corners of his lips.

But I know he doesn’t know what I’m about to do, what’s been on my mind for days now. I fall to my knees in a kneeling position and push my way between his legs, my open palms stroke the tops of his thighs and I look up at him with a cheshire cat grin.

His eyes grow dark.

“Oh,” he murmurs.

Continue reading

If You’re Asking

I’m 95 percent sure that if you asked Sir how he self-identifies/labels himself in the context of BDSM he would not say Dominant/Top/Master. He would (nearly) undoubtedly say: Sadist. I’m not his first foray into the lifestyle, so I am not vain enough to say his Dominance is a reactionary consequence of my Submission, more like it is something natural about him… an aura he wears, so to speak. I laugh a lot at people who claim to be naturally Dominant or Submissive, but mainly internet Doms who are “looking for a natural Submissive.” I don’t know why, it just makes me giggle.

But I think Sir has a “natural Dominant aura” about him. Though most people associate being a Sadist with being a “Top” and being a Masochist with being a “Bottom” that is not always true. There are plenty of tops–D-types, who enjoy having pain inflicted upon them, and likewise, there are bottoms–S-types, who enjoy inflicting pain. So he isn’t Dominant because he is a Sadist. Continue reading

He Fucked Me So Good He Broke Me

He canes my ass. He canes my thighs–the backs and the front. He canes me over my tattoos and they are ultra sensitive. It’s a good girl spanking, because he was craving putting cane to flesh and I asked him for it. He increases the weight of his swing with every ‘thwack’ against my skin and it makes me wiggle from foot to foot and whine. The most painful spot, undoubtedly, is just below my ass cheeks, right on the high tops of my thighs. The arousal in his voice increases with every single one of my strangled “owwwwweeeees.”

Every time I answer “I don’t know” instead of yes or no, he raps me hard, just above the knee–on second thought… that may be the most painful spot. He keeps it up until I start getting sassy, and my panties are soaked, through and through. I am bouncing back and forth on the balls of my feet, but not because of the pain, because I am wet and desperate for him to hurt me, to be rough with me, to fuck me. I want his hands on me, in place of the cane.

“Get up on the bed, on your knees.”
Continue reading

When I Undo My Belt, You Melt and Walk Away, With a Red, Red, Red Welt

The feel of his stubble against my cheeks makes me melt. I kiss his forehead and the tip of his nose. I nip the apple of his cheek and he growls and lets his finger tips press against my spine.

I crawl between his knees, feeling well and truly submissive, and when I am like this, I find that I am my most shy.

I cannot form dirty and devious words, but I do ask first:

“I want something.” Continue reading