Imprisoned [story]

I've played enough times with you now to trust you. You know my limits, you've proved to me that you respect them. I feel safe with you. The scene we had today was incredible…I'm lying in your arms, floating, kissing your face, telling you how wonderful you are, and all the while regretting that I will have to get up soon and leave this cocoon of fun and contentment and joy.

I shake my head, trying to re-focus, and I sit up against your chest. You put your arms around me and hold me close to you. I rest my head, relaxed, on your shoulder, then begin to pull away. You tighten your grip. I look up at you and motion towards my arms still cuffed behind my back. We haven't yet got around to taking them off, too sweat-soaked and exhausted to move.

You smile at me, and do nothing. I sit up straighter. “Can you?”, I ask, gesturing again. Once more you smile at me, not quite your normal expression, and a hint of something cold buries itself in my stomach. I feel my pupils dilating. “I have to go now, stop fucking about and get these cuffs off me”. Fear fuels my temper, as always.

“No”, you say gently, but with a hint of rough. “No”. Your voice is still very calm. “I'd like a few days with you, just a few days to play with you without any limits at all, so I can teach you how to behave. I think that would be good for you”.

I'm really frightened now, and dozens of thoughts scamper through my head. My husband knows I'm here, he knows where you live, he will come for me. But will he? What if you tell him I left, text him from my phone to tell him I left here safely, and you pretend to be worried about me? I don't fully believe that he would come here to check, just in case.

I pull away…start to rise…I'm kneeling, but you knock me off my feet. I fall forward, and I feel you putting my ankles into cuffs. I'm screaming now, kicking…someone will hear me…there are other people in the house, we're in the basement, but we're right next to the street. Someone will notice, surely?

“Oh, this is something I've been wanting to do for a while, so I had the basement soundproofed”, you say, still in that calm voice. It's like you're a stranger, I can't believe you're fucking doing this to me. I'm kicking and writhing but you're just so much stronger than me and you easily cuff my ankles to a spreader bar, and then there's nothing I can do but shout for help, pointlessly.

“You fucking bastard. I trusted you, how can you do this to me?” You answer by pushing a ring gag into my mouth. My face is transfigured with rage, but you smile and tell me I'm pretty. Only my eyes can express my furious anger, my pure and burning rage clearing a path through all the other conflicting emotions, like a forest fire, destroying everything in its way.

You're standing now, and your hands are in my hair, holding my face at the level of your crotch. I'm squirming, trying to get away, but can barely move I'm so heavily restrained. “You cock-teasing little bitch. How did you think this would end? My self control is not limitless. It's time you forgot your own limits and concentrated on pleasing me, you slut. For the next three days you'll be MY Minx, and you'll have no control. I'll do whatever the fuck I want with you”.

You can barely push your swollen cock through the ring gag. I try and keep you out of my mouth by turning my head away but it's impossible…you grab the back of my head with both hands and thrust. Once you've pushed yourself inside the confines of the gag in my mouth, you force me to suck you. Tears and saliva pour down my face in equal measure.

You thrust deeper now, and I'm gagging on your cock, too tense and rigid to relax my throat and make it easier for myself. “You bitch, you fucking bitch, you slutty little whore. You're mine now, my Minx, my slut”. You punctuate each word with a thrust. As you speak, I am humiliated and utterly shamed…your words make me come…at the same time as you pour your hot spunk into me I orgasm…I have no choice but to swallow your come down, sucking you dry.

You pull out, then backhand me in the face, knocking me to the floor amid the black satin quilts. “I'll be back soon, my Minx, for your next lesson”. My mind shudders, my body convulses.

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The lights go out. I wait in darkness for what must be a day, although I've no way of knowing. My internal clock suggests at least twelve hours have passed.

The door opens. Lights come on. I hear your footsteps. Desperate, I resolve to co-operate if it means I can just move my cramped arms, my rigid mouth, still gagged and cuffed. A chance to escape might come sooner if I appear calm.

You take the cuffs off, and remove the gag. I've never felt such physical relief. I read tension in your body – you're alert for my every movement. You rub my wrists, shoulders, ankles…I'm so wracked with pain and cramp and numbness I couldn't move even if I was in front of an open door.

You help me use the crude toilet facilities you've set up, and feed me from your own hand. I'm tempted to bite, but can't bear to be gagged again, and I'm still weak from shock and pain. You lift me, using bondage tape to tie my ankles to the spreader chair, and clip my wrist cuffs to the frame. The look in your eye is serious…not teasing now. We've done this once before in play, and you knew I wanted you desperately, but couldn't have you. This time is very different. This time, all the power is yours, there is no holding back.

I'm surprised when you begin to gently wash me clean, rather than fucking me immediately. You do it lovingly, kindly, and I wonder at how someone who appears so monstrous can have such gentleness in him. Once you've washed me clean, you stand in front of me, leaning forward; your hands on my arms, your legs spread slightly, savouring the moment.

I'm too tired and beaten now for anger, tears of pain and misery instead are coating my face. You wipe them away with the palm of your hand. “Please Master D, please let me go”. I've never called you that before. Your cock swells even more in response to my voice. “I won't tell anyone. Please don't hurt me any more. I'm sorry. I'm sorry”.

You laugh, a sound of real happiness, as you lift your crop to my breasts for the first blow. You thrash me thoroughly, precisely, my inner thighs turn red, then bruise, then eventually the skin rips and starts to bleed. The blood excites you, it's sticky and warm. Your already huge cock becomes even more swollen. Your face changes, hardens, as you guide yourself between the lips of my pussy, which despite myself, welcomes you. You feel the head of your cock gripped, as you push inside. Then you thrust in deeply, all the way, up to the balls in me. You pull out slowly, almost to the tip. You angle upwards, hitting my g-spot. I struggle, resist, try not to come but you force it out of me, going over the same spot over and over again. You're working me, playing that sensitive part, and you lean in and whisper, “Come for me, I want you to come for me while I'm fucking you, my little Minx”. I can't, I won't, I don't want to…but I do…an orgasm that sweeps my whole body, a grinding, thunderous pulse; I hear white noise, it covers the sound of me crying out.

You're smiling cruelly. You continue pounding into me…I drink your cock down with my pussy. I cry for you. You're hitting my cervix and with every thrust it hurts, my muscles are screaming, the tape is cutting into my ankles. Each time you push inside me it hurts me, numerous sharp pains on my body, the deeper you thrust the more it hurts me. And the pain increases when you pull out, lift my buttocks, and thrust your cock into my ass.

I give little whimpers and moans of pain each time you grind your hips against mine. You sink your teeth into my throat, ripping the flesh. Blood runs trickling over my nipples. I start to shake…I am suddenly terribly afraid. My eyes widen, my body stiffens. You come, come inside me, forcing and pushing and shoving, forcing yourself even deeper…the last few thrusts cause such intense pain in me I think I'm going to black out.

You gasp for breath, your sweat-soaked body resting on mine. You uncuff me, cutting away the tape with your knife…you pull me down into your arms. “Good girl”, you whisper. “I'm so proud of you”. It's too much for me…I sob into your shoulder, first curled childlike into my mouth. I should hate you, despise you. Why instead do I want to do anything, anything to please you now?

“Because I fucked you like you needed to be fucked, my little naughty Minx”. You answer my unspoken question. I sleep at last…curled up on your chest like a kitten, your arms around me, shaping my word into something altogether more fluid, with space for savage miracles as well as tragedy.

Undone [erotic fiction]

I'm in total darkness.
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My hands are reaching outwards, and I'm feeling cold metal surrounding me, below me, above me.
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Have I been buried alive?
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The vibrato thunk of a metal drawer being opened. Light. The surface I lie on is moving forward.
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The bubble of silence bursts, the noise of a busy room floods over me. I am blinking, my eyes dilated, unused to the light. I look up at a woman dressed in a lab coat, who is staring at me with detachment. I feel abnormally calm, and I'm aware that I shouldn't be, but even that doesn't break the spell. A logical part of my mind concludes I've been drugged, but I don't react to that knowledge.

I become more aware of my surroundings, and realise that I'm lying on a mortuary slab. Am I dead then? I consider the prospect, but my heartbeat is still strong, if a little slow, my skin is still warm, and my limbs under my control, even if affected by a deep lethargy.

The lab technician is checking my body, taking my temperature and blood pressure. “You probably feel a little confused”, she says. “That's perfectly normal. We've given you something to keep you calm. What's the last thing you can remember?”

My voice is a little bit rusty as I murmur, “I was walking…the seafront, by the roadside on my way back…evening. Then, a car….pulled up and there was someone who…I don't remember”. “That's okay”, she soothes, “shhhh, shhh”.

I try to sit up but feel faint and dizzy. My heart speeds and I feel a little sick. The technician's cold but reassuringly strong hands press me back. Another woman walks through the door pushing a wheelchair, and I'm gently helped into it. I'm naked but covered with a blanket and I have a strange notion that I'm living my life backwards from death to hospital to coming back to health and life again. I'm wheeled down a corridor painted burgundy, and helped into a bed with soft red blankets and black silk sheets. I climb inside the coverings. I drift…

I wake feeling more alive. This time I come to consciousness gradually. The silk feels beautiful against my skin. I open my eyes. The room is carefully lit, soft and warm. I smell vanilla perfume in the air. The wooden panelled door opens with a soft click, and a dark haired woman, dressed in very high heels and a pencil skirt, seamed stockings immaculately arranged, walks over to the bed. She smiles and asks me to go with her, holding out a silk kimono in black, with green and red patterns. I pad, barefoot, behind her, along the corridor, the ancient and dark floorboards cold under my feet.

We enter an echoey chamber, windowless and darkly lit. A sunken pool is carved out of the natural cavern the room has been made from. I'm given into the care of two women, both handsome rather than beautiful, with unusually strong arms, long and strong fingers, and a matching air of practicality. They take off my kimono and I feel none of my normal shyness. There is no blush, no dropping of my head to my shoulder; instead I wait, calmly, as they explore my physique. They lead me to the water and I climb into the warm pool, sitting on a ledge with my legs splayed out in front of me. I close my eyes and tilt my head back, strong fingers soap me, lifting each heavy breast and firmly scrubbing away invisible layers of dirt, rubbing salt into even my nipples to take off the top layer of skin and reveal the clean, new and fresh body beneath. My arms are lifted above my head and I enjoy the sensation of being made new. My hair is unbound and washed, my scalp massaged, I am shaved o! f hair everywhere else.

A subtle shift in the atmosphere alerts me and my eyes open a little to see fingers lingering between my legs, the touch suddenly less firm, more tentative. One of the women continues to wash me but gives a warning glance to the other, whose fingers are touching so provocatively between my lips. Her expression is a combination of acceptance and pleading, but she draws her hand away. I am a little surprised as I see her own face glow red as she leans in to gently touch her lips to mine, barely connecting, just for a moment.

The other woman moves to lead me out of the water, and lays me down on a bed of fluffy towels. I am patted dry, my body gripped and liberated by hands which squeeze and release, then spread scented balm over my reddened skin. Again, hands linger between my legs as I lay face down, a teasing sensation which all too quickly disappears. My skin feels overly sensitised and little shivers go up and down me as I feel fingertips on my back. I open my eyes as I'm brought to my feet, and returned into the care of the dark haired lady who brought me to this sea green water room.

I am led naked down another dark and polished corridor, into a room with a brass plaque that marks it as 'Test Area'. Mahogany furniture and oriental rugs, cherry blossom paintings and silver candlesticks. A tall man with long dark hair, pinned back with a ribbon, stands with his back to me at a desk, then puts down the book in his hand and turns to face me. He lifts my hands to his lips and kisses them, and then pushes down on my shoulders to drop me to my knees. I am uncertain and feel the evenness of mind and drugged calm flicker, as my anticipation rises.

“I'm going to fuck your mouth, my dear”, he says. He sinks his fingers into my hair and pulls - hard. The pain is sharp and immediate. It distracts my mind from the sensations in my mouth and throat, as he fills me. I react automatically by relaxing my throat muscles and adjusting my head to the right angle to take him in more deeply. He begins to thrust, gently at first, still with his hands in my hair. My own hands instinctively begin to push at his hips, making a thorough effort to slap, pull, hit, force his body away from mine. He is far stronger than me and in a position where his weight gives him the advantage, I cannot win but I try anyway, my struggles only increasing his girth as they heighten the excitement for him. My own body is excited by the adrenaline and I feel wetness on my thighs and heat in my chest and on my cheeks. He cries out, and I suck…suck deeply and drink him in. I suffer the inevitable response of my body to the joy of being used in this way, my! own cries are lost in his flesh, only the shudders and my drenched thighs reveal my release.

He turns, and writes in his record book. The two handsome women from the water room enter, and restore my cleanliness to their satisfaction, while he writes, and writes, and writes.

Again I am given to the dark haired beauty in her tailored clothes. We walk..I am shaken…my hands tremble a little.

Another polished corridor, shining in the lamplight. Another room, much larger this time. I'm starting to feel huge surges of fear now, the drugs in my system breaking down. My mouth is dry although my pussy is wet again. A man sits in a red leather chesterfield armchair, his legs spread wide, and a cane balanced on his lap, held in both hands. I meet his eyes for only a moment before breaking eye contact and looking down. A flush covers my face immediately. I'm unsettled and don't know whether I want to run away from him or towards him. He holds out his hand and I am torn, before my body makes the choice for me, and my balance shifts, one leg swinging forward to be followed by the other, in small, jerky and reluctant steps. I still can't look at him, but he takes my small hand in his. I'm terrified. I burn for him.

He soothes me with soft strokes, pulling me so that I'm standing between his legs. He turns me and says in a soft voice, “lie across my lap”. He holds my shoulder down firmly as the first stroke of the cane hits. I cry out, a gasping cry that continues, panting anew at each stroke. I can't see but I feel the skin reddening, bruising, then bleeding as he works me. His cock is huge and hard beneath me and the touch of it feels so good, it's worth the momentary pain. I embrace the pain, it replaces the fear, remaking the shape of my mind into something better than it was before.

Once he's drawn first blood to his satisfaction, he stands up and tells me to kneel down. He holds my hands behind my back with one of his, and again, I feel his unflagging firmness against my cheek as I turn my head up towards his face in response to his command. I struggle a little and moan plaintively as he uses a riding crop on my breasts. Instant bruises unfold on my skin, the nipples burn, my mouth opens a little as I rub my lips and moan into his hardness. Welts are rising over both breasts, and he lifts me so that I'm standing facing him, as he reaches a hand to spank me. The pain is stunning, coming over the cane marks, but with each hand's caress I sigh and moan in sharp little breaths. I'm dizzy with the staggering pain, he's holding me on my feet, but he lets me drop to my knees as he sits back down on the chair.

He takes his cock out and lifts my chin. “Open up Lucy, open your mouth for me”. The beating has made me compliant, I only want to give him something wonderful, rather than struggle. He draws me in, and I take it all down without him needing to move his hips forward. I rock back and forth, his buttocks clench as he thrusts compulsively into my mouth, over and over and over again, my thighs are sticky with my excitement, and with blood.

Shockingly sudden, he stands and drags me by the hair to a table, bends me over, and fucks me without thought for style or technique, just fucking me, with his hugely swollen cock sliding inside me, the muscles of my pussy gripping him desperately tight, but so dripping wet as he pounds into me from behind. I panic and begin to fight back, which just causes him to pin my wrists down and fuck me even harder. I can feel his hips grinding and thrusting and shoving, causing an aching pain deep inside me, and a sharp pain on my buttocks as the beaten skin is freshly torn by his haste and need. He tears into my back with his fingernails, the skin violated, huge red lines drawn in blood and sweat. Tears fall from me, but I feel the muscles inside me grip him in a pulsing contraction which starts between my legs and spreads to wash throughout me. He lets out a wordless shout and his rhythm grows faster for a few moments, then gently slows.

He steps back and turns me to face him, spreads my legs and bends me back over the table as he covers me with his body. He kisses me as softly as his fucking was hard. I'm all undone.

The Forest [erotic fiction]

ittle echoes of vibration bring me back to life. The splash of water, dripping, is too quiet to be heard, but it makes a loud absence of sound in the background noise of leaves rustling, wind gusting and rattling, the little sounds of night and darkness and forest green. I smell iron, old iron and rust, and explore with my fingers in the black and white night vision before me. The musky, dank and fertile smell of woodland in summer rain, tells me where I am, but I don't know why I'm there. I run my hand up the bars of a cage which reaches just over my head as I crouch, touching and reaching and checking for gaps, checking for a way out, as I feel the rise of some burning kind of emotion inside me…burning bright and angry and lighting up the night-time; shading everything in red.

The feeling detonates into action and I rise up, pounding, hitting, smacking and a storm of sobbing pours onto the iron cage which falls to pieces, swept away by the passion, the ocean of tears inside me. I feel blood curling round my arms like serpents, my fingers are sore and splintered, my feet cut and torn from metal and wood. I run, gasping, without thought for being seen, for keeping hidden, terrified and furious and confused and hurt, my feet no longer painful, adrenaline surging, my heart pounding…running, running away…then I stop.

He is standing in the clearing, smiling. He knew which way I would run. His face is amused, his legs are comfortably spread apart, his hands loosely holding the cane. Dressed in black, yet still he stands out from the darkness surrounding him. I am spellbound, clumsy. He is balanced, poised.

Her hand on my shoulder; I don't move, only let out a sharp gasp of breath. I don't turn to face her, but feel her lift my hair and kiss my neck. She kicks my legs from underneath me and I fall to the ground, but land softly, turned so that I am lying under her. Suddenly my head is in his lap, cushioned on his legs. She holds my wrists pinned to the ground either side of his thighs. I feel my pulse, hard and thunderous, matching hers. Her desire rises, I feel it with my body. Her lips on mine, my mouth to hers, kiss to kiss, womb to womb. She turns me over, she is clothed and I am not. Her fingers are inside me, dancing, I whimper for her, making little sounds of pain and pleasure. She pulls my arm behind me to breaking point, I am close to screaming.

My face is between his thighs, he opens my mouth with his fingers and pushes his cock inside, down, above me. He forces my head closer to his skin, I take him in until I am breathing his scent, I gag but he draws me closer with his hands in my hair, nearly ripping it out at the roots. As he fills my mouth, she fills my pussy, replacing fingers with the hard feel of glass; inhuman but I feel the still pulse of it, inside me, unable to tell where my body ends and it begins, I want to beg but I cannot speak, there is no room for words, only sensation. I tremble, I scream wordlessly around the thick cock pounding into my throat, then it is withdrawn and I mourn the loss. The object inside me is withdrawn also, and once again I am turned, pulled over her lap as she slides gentle, teasing fingers over my buttocks and pats me, strokes me, smacking into me, hurting me. She slaps and beats at me until I am red and glowing, then stands and pulls on her cock made of glass, strapped to her.

She pulls me down with her back to the earth so I am lying above her, her cock in my pussy, and he takes my ass. I am between them, and they meet in a union of rhythm as I am transformed into something molten and pliable and yielding. They come together, soundlessly, as I give in to need and throw my head back, crying.

The Broken Toy [erotic fiction]

“Imp, come here”, his voice says. The two of them lie entwined in the grass, which holds on to the last of the summer day's heat. Scattered conversation swells and puddles around us, as all the others settle in for an evening's drinking following the day's drunken picnic and various half-hearted sporting efforts. I raise my head and look at them both, warily. They are both very dominant and have a habit of breaking their toys. I'm lying on my stomach in the longer grass, a few feet away from them, collapsed after having kicked off my shoes and danced barefoot, aided by considerable amounts of gin and cider. I'm feeling deliciously vulnerable and very delicate, and wonder how it would feel to be their broken toy.

I've hesitated too long and her hand reaches out towards me, beckoning. Her nails are cut short and square, although her fingers are strong and slender, and I wonder what it would feel like to have them inside me. A little shudder goes through me and I inch slowly towards them. His arm lazily uncurls from her waist and he cups my chin in his hand, tilting it towards him. My face turns up like a flower in the sunshine, then a shadow, a moment of foreshadow, touches me, and I shudder again. She has moved to block the view of the other people and unseen, he leans in to kiss me. As his lips touch mine, her hand grips my throat from behind, and I feel my stomach clench. His tongue slides oh so gently inside my mouth and he strokes the inside of my lips, licking and exploring, while his other hand viciously digs into my leg, leaving instant bruises. I feel her nipples hard against my back. My own nipples harden, so sensitive, feeling the rough fabric of his clothing pressing against them through my top, through my underwear.

Surely the other people can see what they are doing to me…but no-one seems to have noticed, all involved as they are with their own conversations, their awareness dulled by alcohol. I stop caring, stop thinking, relaxing into the pain, the calm washing through me as my pulse and heat rises, my own desire meeting theirs. She slides her hands into my clothing, underneath my clothing, and she's unhooking my bra. It falls forward, held in place by the weight of my breasts against the silk dress, the dark of my nipples visible through the thin fabric. She cups each breast in her hand, rolling and pinching the flesh. Little quivers are running through me now and I can hear my breathing change. He is pulling me forward into his arms, away from her, but I don't want to go and struggle a little. He calms me by tightening his grip on my wrists, and pulls me so that I am sprawled over his legs, perfectly positioned for his fingers to explore my buttocks. His hand is slipping under my clothing, running lightly over my skin. I'm shivering all over now, and each time he runs his hand up my leg and over my bottom he pulls my clothing higher, revealing more of my hold up fishnet stockings and ruffled knickers.

His breathing is shallow and rapid…gradually the conversations around us are tailing off, heads lifting, as they all becomes aware of the scene happening right there in front of them. I can't care anymore, my desire has become need, a prickling all over my body, the skin on my buttocks tingling and the impatience rising from me in waves. Please, please, please I think, barely daring to hope, let alone ask for what I need. Gently he pats my behind, a caress with a hint of slap. She slides her hands inside my knickers and pulls them down, inch by slow inch. Little groans are coming from my mouth, I'm no longer in command of myself, I've let go all conscious thought. I am entirely in their hands, suspended in their control.

I writhe without even realising I'm doing so, until I feel his hardness under my naked pussy. He's so hard, so hot for me, and I'm giving myself little pulses of pleasure by grinding my hips against his clothed cock, even as his pats become slaps, become smacks, become spanks. His hand comes down, an irregular rhythm which comes and goes, building, decreasing, building, I'm going out of my fucking mind with pleasure and pain, my hands are clenching the grass, the earth, in spasms, until he wrenches them behind my back and holds them in one of his strong hands.

She's moved in front of me and slid her knickers down, she pushes her legs underneath my torso, supporting my upper body, and while he works on me still, she positions my head so that it's between her white and beautiful thighs. I suckle, kiss and lick my way to her centre, then stroke slowly with my tongue each swollen lip in turn. I push strong strokes of my tongue onto her clit, running upwards, then jab my tongue inside her, flicking and nibbling. The pain of the spanking is reaching its peak, I can't bear much more, the bruising spreads, red and purple across each cheek. I convulsively tighten and release, tighten and release the muscles in my pelvis as I suck her clit, my arms still held behind me. She tangles her hands in my hair, pulling me in deeper.

She is close, close to her own peak. She takes my breasts into her hands and slaps them, holds them, feeling their weight, then slaps them again. She hits me in the face, hard, with the open palm of her hand, and it brings her even closer to the edge. In the same moment, his hand delivers one final, almost unbearably painful smack to my buttocks, and then delves deep into the warm and soaking space between my legs. I am going to come, I can't help myself, even though I haven't been fucked yet, and I need to be, so very much need to be fucked, properly fucked with a hot and swollen cock thrusting inside me jamming into my pussy, deep and hard and fucking me, fucking me painfully and roughly, deep into me. I need it NOW but I can't hold on any longer for it, I open my mouth, and into the suffocating flesh I cry out as wave after wave of spasms wash through me, my pussy clenching and releasing, squeezing his fingers as they frantically move back and forth within me. The sound finishes her, wetness gushes into my mouth, she tips her head back and moans as I suck still on her swollen clit, feeling the pulse jump frantically.

Just as I think I'm finished I'm thrown down, pinned down on the ground as she sprawls backwards, replete, and he takes me very hard and very roughly from behind. He takes less than a second to unbuckle himself, shove down his trousers far enough to get his aching cock out and bear down into me, hips pounding, fucking me like I wished for, more than I wished for, he's so big and so swollen that it hurts me, especially when I'm so sensitive having just come so hard. The pain is blissful, and I feel myself tightening around him, as he rams in and out of me, crushing me beneath him, painting me in dirt and grass stains. His hands go around my hips and between my legs, holding me tighter so he can fuck me even deeper, and grinding his fingers into my clit. I'm coming again, and scream out his name, but find my mouth full of her as she kisses me, deep and full, her tongue flicking out of my mouth in rhythm with his cock between my thighs. Three final thrusts and he's exploded into me, I can feel the hot and sticky spurt of his come deep, deep inside. He goes limp and his full weight falls on top of me, as she withdraws too, leaning around me to rest her head against him as they both lie, collapsed, their combined weight heavy above me, pressing me down into the dusty, sticky earth.

They smile at each other and look at me, filthy, bruised, my pussy battered, my lips sore and bitten, my cheeks flushed, my eyes glazed. She smiles. “I think we broke our toy”, she says to him.

“I think we did”, he answers. And I'm too broken to reply.

“All of a sudden I know that I treasure my life…”

Calm in my household is somewhat restored as R and I had the chance to chat, cuddle, kiss and ultimately have fantastic sex this morning. My poor darling has been so down, and he is mostly restored to good humour after an outpouring of love, reassurance, snuggles, and fun. God, there’s just something incredibly healing about sex, isn’t there? Or at least there is, the way I do it. How amazing it feels, to know that you are soothing someone’s sore heart with your body. It makes me so happy to know I can do that for him. Unsurprisingly, we’re both feeling absolutely wonderful today.

In other news, I am quite close to burn-out and quite looking forward to a bit of a rest, frankly. I’ve been working and playing hard, and seriously need to catch up on sleep and non-exciting forms of relaxation. On wednesday night I met up with a kinky couple in Brighton. I’d been hoping that our drink might turn into something a little more, but the poor lass was so ill and recovering from a nasty dose of a vomiting bug, that I had to restrain myself from pouncing on her in case she threw up on me!

Last night I went to a burlesque, which was a damn fine show and opportunity to leer at lots of pretty young girls taking their clothes off. It ended, (and oh dear, how this is turning into a cliche) with me getting drunk and having a quickie in the toilets with a very hot young lady who shall remain nameless. PLUS a total gropefest outside. Talk about eye candy. I didn’t know where to put meself! So my week is definitely looking up...!

Can I go on doing this?

I’m really worried. My husband, R, is so down at the moment. It’s very unlike him, although he does get like this occasionally from time to time. And I’m worried that what I’m doing is contributing to that.

We’ve talked, and talked, about whether he’s comfortable with me doing what I’m doing. He knows everything, but he doesn’t like getting detailed descriptions, so we’ve agreed and discussed limits and balance of time and so on, many times, but I don’t give him a blow by blow breakdown of what or who I’ve been doing.

The simple fact of it is that, having had a pretty quiet life for the last couple of years, up until six months ago, my life is really taking off, I’m discovering myself, becoming fulfilled, and having a bloody good fun time recently. I was so pleased and happy because he seemed to be using this to rejuvenate his own life, too…he’s been doing loads more socialising and activities recently including a couple of really exciting things like a sword tournament in scotland and a parachute jump.

But currently, he’s got nothing immediately on the horizon, and he’s feeling very low and anticlimactic. He’s worried about money, worried about the new job which he’s been promised but is on hold until an unspecified time in the spring, which considering it’s been an 18 month process of applying for it, going through tests and so on, and then finally getting the job offer but waiting on a start date since early summer, is not really surprising. He’s having a difficult time from his bosses in his current job, and the new job will solve that, plus it’s more money, which means more resources for fun activities etc etc etc.

So I know he’d still be feeling like this if I was sitting at home feeling miserable with him. But the fact that I’m swanning off here there and everywhere having a super time, must rub it in a bit, and that makes me feel sooooooo guilty. Am I emasculating him even further by going off and having fun in bed with other people, without him?

We’ve talked about it and he’s said I shouldn’t feel guilty, that once the new job starts he’ll be fine, and I know he’s very resilient and will bounce back quickly…but….I just feel so guilty still/ It’s a fact that I am essentially contributing to his feeling bad by my actions. Now, I know in my sensible self that it’s up to him to sort himself out, that my self-fulfillment shouldn’t be put on hold so I can sit around and iron his shirts in sympathetic misery, but but but but I’m hurting him by having fun while he isn’t. That makes me feel sick and anxious and bleugh. Am I damaging his self-image? I know it makes him feel a bit like the bloke who stays at home looking after the cats, who is boring and unglamorous, while I’m going off having wild sex and play with exciting people who are giving me an amazing time. I’m lavishing him with reassurances and we’re going on holiday in a week’s time, which will be a wonderful opportunity to spend time together, and I’m hoping that will sort him out. How can I make him understand how much I ADORE him and want him to be happy? And that my having fun doesn’t mean I value him any less?

ARGHHH! This whole emotional pendulum swing this is doing my head in. A friend reckons R’s suffering from his own version of drop, due to adrenaline withdrawal. And I have known R be like this before when his job is making him feel crappy. But I love him so much, and his pain is my pain. He feels bad, I feel bad. And an element unique to me, is that while if I feel sad, it might make him feel sad too, he doesn’t feel responsible for it. Whereas when R is unhappy, I feel deeply that it’s my duty to make him happy again, and if I don’t, then I’m failing him.

Up and down, up and down, like a tart’s knickers…

I stayed lovely and relaxed after a thoroughly debauched weekend, which lasted right up until yesterday. Now my mood’s dropped a bit. I’m really struggling with the aftermath of the break-up with N. I’ve been very close a few times in the last couple of weeks, to walking away from the scene completely. I need to find some way to express my feelings of frustration and hurt, through writing, whilst at the same time, not retaliate in a ‘tit-for-tat’ style debacle in public, which would serve no purpose.

It’s clear my ex is hurting a great deal, and I suspect it’s easier for her at the moment to hate me, and re-write history so that she’s the victim of this failed relationship, rather than accept we were just not meant to be together. She’s having difficulty letting go, and I understand that, and I feel for her. What’s happening though, is that she’s being very public about her pain, and I am not. She is putting a very particular and one-sided slant on my behaviour, and being very vocal about it. And I am not. Which means that even my close friends are wondering what the fuck is up with me that I’ve been behaving like such an insensitive bitch.

I have no intention of justifying myself, my actions, or my behaviour, to anyone else. If I start picking each accusation apart and responding to it, I’ll become as embroiled in spending time thinking about her, as I was when we were together, and I am not going to do that. As long as I can look at myself and be realistic - I’ve cocked a good few things up but I took the best decision that I could at the time, and although I’ve made mistakes out of naivety and believing the best of people, I know I’m neither cruel nor heartless, and it doesn’t matter how many people tell me I am. I struggle so hard and so continually to do the right thing, and occasionally fall down, and now I feel as if I’m being strung up over it, even though I know I am STILL doing the right thing by making a deliberate choice not to stand up for myself, which under the circumstances, would only make the whole thing spiral out of control even further.

But…it hurts. My honeymoon period with the social network surrounding the scene is well and truly over, I feel a bit like a social pariah at the moment, and I’m unsettled and ill at ease. I am not finding this easy at all. I feel judged and found wanting. There’s always three sides to every story, they say - yours, mine, and the truth. Well, it’s not that I am not being heard by people, more that I’m choosing not to be heard. Things are always more complicated than they seem.

"Bring Me Back to Life"

MMm, where do I start? Well, after a pretty difficult couple of weeks, I was looking for some uncomplicated fun this friday. And oh yeah..definitely got it!

Went round to B's in after work, got changed, and awaited the arrival of the others before heading off to DV8. I was very nervous because it was the first club going experience post break-up, and I was also anxious about meeting his friend, O. Had an ‘oh my FUCK, she’s GORGEOUS!’ moment as she walked in the door, and felt all stammery and stupid for a bit. Managed not to walk into any walls or have a Clumsy Incident, so that was a result.

Took us about elebinty gazillion years to find the damn place, but we got there in the end. Lovely venue, out in the middle of nowhere, with a lot of different equipment and soft spaces upstairs curtained off with veiled fabric. I was doing my social butterfly thing, just catching up with people, chatting and hanging out, when B came up to me and gave me this LOOK, and said ‘O can’t stop looking at your bottom. You’re a very popular girl!’ I was trying to give them a bit of space and not be the ‘just had a difficult breakup clingy friend who everyone is sympathetic too but also finding a bit irritating’. Especially since I had to firmly lock up the sadness which threatened to overwhelm me, being there without her.

He very quickly dispelled any ideas like that though, by putting his hand on my shoulder, underneath my hair, and doing this really simple thing that bypassed my conscious mind completely and turned me into submissive jelly…just digging his fingers into my neck, don’t know how it worked, something about it just dropped me utterly.

Had a comedy moment upstairs, just starting to get seriously into a play with him, when this ridiculous noise like Darth Vader snorting coke started right next to my ear. I couldn’t work out what it was, then realised it was a guy in a gimp suit breathing through his regulator, getting a bit….excited. I had to fight off a fit of the giggles…and unbeknownst to me, so was B… I was THIS close to turning round and saying, look, you know what? Go away and do some heavy breathing elsewhere, cos you’re really putting me off!

Was sitting downstairs having a cuddle and a come down, and O was talking about how she was a bit frustrated there wasn’t anyone here she particularly wanted to give a good spanking to, that she hadn’t brought with her. So I batted my eyelashes and before I knew it I was whisked upstairs and bent over her lap. Cue another comedy moment as we were just beginning, when she said - I don’t want to alarm you, but can you smell come?! Break for a quick check round to make sure we weren’t lying in a big pool of it…then back into the zone…for just long enough for B to come upstairs, and be so distracted by the sight of my arse bent over O’s lap that he tripped over my foot…it clearly was not my night for getting through a play without snorting and giggling to myself…

Plenty more play ensued, although not quite enough…next time we’ll need to get there earlier, we all agreed. Safe and snug in the back of the car under B's coat, I zoned in and out all the way back, where we sat up in the lounge deconstructing the evening.