Posts
Things fall apart, but the centre holds. But what happens when the centre falls apart?
My husband used to suffer from fits, related to his diabetes, and would usually be hospitalised while extremely agitated, vomiting, reduced level of consciousness, for at least 24 hours, then kept in or discharged depending on whether his blood sugar was stable. Extremely distressing for all concerned, so naturally we’ve been delighted that this hasn’t happened for four or five years now.
On sunday morning I called him and realised quite quickly he’d had a fit, as he was only able to speak a little, and after I called the neighbour who broke into the house, they found him vomiting and near unconscious. He was kept in overnight, and is nearly well again, although blood sugars are a little unstable, he is home and I’m looking after him. We don’t know why it happened again after so long. We don’t know if it will happen again, or when.
While this was happening to him, I was with B & O and had been since wednesday, partying and being a whore. The fact that he knew where I was and had his full understanding consent, doesn’t change that I wasn’t by his side where I should have been. I could have done something and I wasn’t there. I feel sick every time I see the bruises on my body; a visible reminder that I wasn’t where I should have been, when it mattered.
I know I’m not thinking straight. I know I’m exhausted because I haven’t slept. I know my judgement is skewed. But taking care of R is WHO I AM. I’ve failed him, I’ve failed myself, and I’ve failed everyone else who believed I was who I said I was.
Wednesday, 21 October 2009
Tuesday, 20 October 2009
The Black Wolf and the Red [story]
[With quite starting presentiment, I was about three quarters of the way through writing this when my relationship triad took a turn for the utterly shite, and ended...]
We are safe here, in our den. Group scent combines with turned earth, musty and thick. She sleeps, her back to me, fur glimmering with russet lights. I imagine that I smell oranges, persimmon, cinnamon and rust. A noise from outside enters our space and her muzzle lifts, scents the air, then returns to light sleep. He is curled around me, my alpha male, my black wolf. He stirs in his sleep and re-settles, nuzzling my neck and sighing heavily, loudly. His breath ruffles the fur on my neck, my jaw opens and my tongue peeks out, a wolfly grin. His paw lies heavy over my belly, I wriggle slowly and silently away from his side, trying not to wake him. I make several attempts before I succeed, but finally I slip from his grasp and he turns over, sleepily searching for me. I lick the fur behind his ear and he settles back into deep sleep.
I pad over to our lair's entrance, and sit on my haunches, alert, watchful, but calm, centred. I sense something is coming - a change - but I'm not sure yet what kind. I slip outside and decide to Change; in this interim state, this transition, perhaps I can catch the scent of the future. My mind traces patterns and possibilities. I slip between one state and the other, floating, lightly touching the weave, using my gift to follow the strands to the different places they might lead; this place or that, I don't know what's to come, only that something has begun.
I touch the space in my mind where my pack lives - my Dark Wolf lies sleeping still, my Red Wolf is troubled by strange dreams, but she is safe. I sense this coming change means no harm to them. I can leave them for a little while, explore this interesting but odd anomaly. I walk naked and unafraid through the forest. My muscles flow with each movement, utterly and completely under my control. In this Form my hair is long, blonde, dreadlocked, reflected the ruffled and tousled fur in my other Form, which never seems to shine or lie flat no matter how thoroughly it is licked into place by my Alpha Female.
Now.
There it is.
Events spiral into alignment - I recognise their shape from the feel, the same sensation from my earlier foreshadow. The world breathes in, pauses….explodes into action. A chase…running figures…shadows in grey passing behind the flickering green woods. The change I sense centers around the figure in front - an older man; he's going to become connected to our pack, somehow. This is the important event, as he intersects with Us, and I realise something very significant is happening. But there's something in the way of that Event, and this angers me. The stranger is being chased by two hunters - they have guns. Furious, I leap forward, as I call my Pack - but it will take them a while to get here. In the meantime, I need to keep this person safe until I find out why he's meant to be here.
I'm so much faster than the hunters, I reach and overtake them in moments. I don't know why they're chasing him - all I know is that he is weaponless and they are not. The stranger stumbles, grey with exhaustion, just as I reach him. He falls to his knees and puts his hand to his chest. His lips are blue. The hunters slow, bring their guns up to shoot. I know my Alphas won't make it here in time. And I've run out.
The decision is easy, weightless, and I smile as I move in front of the stranger. The first shot hits me in the shoulder, the second clips me in the neck, and blood spatters the man I'm protecting as he falls to the ground, gasping for breath.
The pain hits a few seconds behind the shock, but my mind is moving fast, skipping ahead of both. I can't heal the damage to my body on my own, I'm too young and untried. I need my Alphas to lend me a little of their strength for that. All I need to do is keep this man safe until they come for me. I am torn between two choices - the threat from the hunters, and the threat from the man's own body. I can heal him, given time and space to work undisturbed, but the hunters are coming for us. I make a decision impulsively, and reach out to the man. I put my hands on his forehead, and his chest, and lean down to kiss him. My lips brush against his, my breath warm against his mouth. My blood drops from the wound to my neck, and I rub my fingers in it and smear red on my lips, pushing my fingers in between our flesh as I keep my lips against his blue and breathless mouth.
He gasps, breathes in noisily, then exhales. Another breath. Pause. Another. Pause. Then he breathes normally. His eyes open. They look directly into mine.
We keep eye contact even as I'm pulled back, thrown off his body and to one side. The hunters have reached us, I smell their sweat, angry and afraid. My face is pressed to the grass, I've lost too much blood, I'm cold. A blur of red and black passes me - my Alphas; the sound of tearing, cries - human and high pitched - the wet sound of something hitting the ground. I need them to help me heal some of the damage I've taken for our Pack. I call out - there is no response, no voices from the hunters, only the sound of feeding. I call again - I know they can hear me. I call out - whimpering, questioning now. I'm so very cold. Two figures walk towards me - my Pack at last. My red wolf in human form crouches down. “Thanks for the meal. We don't need weakness in our pack. You look broken now. Don't come back to the den”.
They walk away. Even my dark wolf walks away, they don't look back.
Somewhere inside me there are ashes, with only a tiny flicker of heat, a burnt ember, a fragment, glowing. One last shape where there might be a flame, a chance, the beginning of a new fire. I am deep inside myself now, retreating to that last place, the most hidden. There, in the place where I first found out who I could be, I breathe on the embers, willing them to burn. They glow, then turn to ashes too. Again, I breathe, finding the will to make fire where there wasn't any before. Not fuelled by anger, but the need to endure, to survive.
My eyes flicker open. The hand curled into my neck wound is sticky, but there is no new blood, the bleeding has stopped now. I sit up, and the forest moves too much. A hand on mine. “Steady”. His voice is exactly like I expected it to be. I look at him. “Who are you?”
“I'm your friend”. And for now, that is enough.
We are safe here, in our den. Group scent combines with turned earth, musty and thick. She sleeps, her back to me, fur glimmering with russet lights. I imagine that I smell oranges, persimmon, cinnamon and rust. A noise from outside enters our space and her muzzle lifts, scents the air, then returns to light sleep. He is curled around me, my alpha male, my black wolf. He stirs in his sleep and re-settles, nuzzling my neck and sighing heavily, loudly. His breath ruffles the fur on my neck, my jaw opens and my tongue peeks out, a wolfly grin. His paw lies heavy over my belly, I wriggle slowly and silently away from his side, trying not to wake him. I make several attempts before I succeed, but finally I slip from his grasp and he turns over, sleepily searching for me. I lick the fur behind his ear and he settles back into deep sleep.
I pad over to our lair's entrance, and sit on my haunches, alert, watchful, but calm, centred. I sense something is coming - a change - but I'm not sure yet what kind. I slip outside and decide to Change; in this interim state, this transition, perhaps I can catch the scent of the future. My mind traces patterns and possibilities. I slip between one state and the other, floating, lightly touching the weave, using my gift to follow the strands to the different places they might lead; this place or that, I don't know what's to come, only that something has begun.
I touch the space in my mind where my pack lives - my Dark Wolf lies sleeping still, my Red Wolf is troubled by strange dreams, but she is safe. I sense this coming change means no harm to them. I can leave them for a little while, explore this interesting but odd anomaly. I walk naked and unafraid through the forest. My muscles flow with each movement, utterly and completely under my control. In this Form my hair is long, blonde, dreadlocked, reflected the ruffled and tousled fur in my other Form, which never seems to shine or lie flat no matter how thoroughly it is licked into place by my Alpha Female.
Now.
There it is.
Events spiral into alignment - I recognise their shape from the feel, the same sensation from my earlier foreshadow. The world breathes in, pauses….explodes into action. A chase…running figures…shadows in grey passing behind the flickering green woods. The change I sense centers around the figure in front - an older man; he's going to become connected to our pack, somehow. This is the important event, as he intersects with Us, and I realise something very significant is happening. But there's something in the way of that Event, and this angers me. The stranger is being chased by two hunters - they have guns. Furious, I leap forward, as I call my Pack - but it will take them a while to get here. In the meantime, I need to keep this person safe until I find out why he's meant to be here.
I'm so much faster than the hunters, I reach and overtake them in moments. I don't know why they're chasing him - all I know is that he is weaponless and they are not. The stranger stumbles, grey with exhaustion, just as I reach him. He falls to his knees and puts his hand to his chest. His lips are blue. The hunters slow, bring their guns up to shoot. I know my Alphas won't make it here in time. And I've run out.
The decision is easy, weightless, and I smile as I move in front of the stranger. The first shot hits me in the shoulder, the second clips me in the neck, and blood spatters the man I'm protecting as he falls to the ground, gasping for breath.
The pain hits a few seconds behind the shock, but my mind is moving fast, skipping ahead of both. I can't heal the damage to my body on my own, I'm too young and untried. I need my Alphas to lend me a little of their strength for that. All I need to do is keep this man safe until they come for me. I am torn between two choices - the threat from the hunters, and the threat from the man's own body. I can heal him, given time and space to work undisturbed, but the hunters are coming for us. I make a decision impulsively, and reach out to the man. I put my hands on his forehead, and his chest, and lean down to kiss him. My lips brush against his, my breath warm against his mouth. My blood drops from the wound to my neck, and I rub my fingers in it and smear red on my lips, pushing my fingers in between our flesh as I keep my lips against his blue and breathless mouth.
He gasps, breathes in noisily, then exhales. Another breath. Pause. Another. Pause. Then he breathes normally. His eyes open. They look directly into mine.
We keep eye contact even as I'm pulled back, thrown off his body and to one side. The hunters have reached us, I smell their sweat, angry and afraid. My face is pressed to the grass, I've lost too much blood, I'm cold. A blur of red and black passes me - my Alphas; the sound of tearing, cries - human and high pitched - the wet sound of something hitting the ground. I need them to help me heal some of the damage I've taken for our Pack. I call out - there is no response, no voices from the hunters, only the sound of feeding. I call again - I know they can hear me. I call out - whimpering, questioning now. I'm so very cold. Two figures walk towards me - my Pack at last. My red wolf in human form crouches down. “Thanks for the meal. We don't need weakness in our pack. You look broken now. Don't come back to the den”.
They walk away. Even my dark wolf walks away, they don't look back.
Somewhere inside me there are ashes, with only a tiny flicker of heat, a burnt ember, a fragment, glowing. One last shape where there might be a flame, a chance, the beginning of a new fire. I am deep inside myself now, retreating to that last place, the most hidden. There, in the place where I first found out who I could be, I breathe on the embers, willing them to burn. They glow, then turn to ashes too. Again, I breathe, finding the will to make fire where there wasn't any before. Not fuelled by anger, but the need to endure, to survive.
My eyes flicker open. The hand curled into my neck wound is sticky, but there is no new blood, the bleeding has stopped now. I sit up, and the forest moves too much. A hand on mine. “Steady”. His voice is exactly like I expected it to be. I look at him. “Who are you?”
“I'm your friend”. And for now, that is enough.
Wednesday, 7 October 2009
A Slut, A Wife, or Both?
So – my husband had a serious health crisis while I was miles away being a slut. I also had a horrendous ding dong with one of my sweeties just before I got the news about him. Both things look to be settling now, but while the immediate shock has passed, I'm feeling very strange indeed – up one minute, down the next, and permanently afraid of loss, afraid of losing the things which make my life worth living, afraid of losing myself. I'm always so afraid of everything – I hate that about myself. It makes me want to pull back and declare a moratorium on any fun and happiness in my life. I'll go back to being the perfect Wife, sit on the sofa knitting, bake, clean, sew, iron, leave the house to go to work and that's about it. Go back to living in shades of black and white, just in case any colour, any vibrancy in my life, any delight; that shining shimmer of joy - well, in case it attracts the attention of something which wants to destroy it, eat it all up, take it away. Because if I don't have it in the first place, I can't lose it.
I need to remind myself why I'm doing this. I'm feeling my way through a morass of sensations and emotions at the moment, I'm finding it overwhelming, and I need to claw myself back up to the surface before I lose myself and fall back to sleep at the bottom of the ocean again. Seems these days as if I leave a trail of destruction and chaos behind me wherever I go. I've got to shake off this dark shadow before it takes hold, before I drown in it. I need to remember that I know how to swim.
To this end, I'm forcing myself to write down ten memories from the last two weeks which contained moments of pure joy. Here goes (in no particular order):
1) I'm on the dancefloor at Brighton Rock. I'm wearing platform heels and a red dress, and I hear the opening chords of Aerials by S.O.A.D. My heart starts pounding, and I know my friend is DJing – he'd asked me what song I would most like to hear, earlier, and this is the one I chose. It feels as if he's playing this song just for me, and I feel the power wash over my own body as I dance like a slut, dance like I'm alone in a field in the sunshine, dance for R as he watches me and I know that he likes watching me, and most of all I dance for myself, as I dance my life.
2) ...and about ten minutes later, and now I'm dancing to NiN's Closer with R, kissing him, looking into his eyes and knowing he's remembering all the other times over the years we've danced together, to that song: so many places, so many nights in dark clubs together, what we were then and what we are to each other now, still so very much in love after all this time.
3) I'm walking to work with my ipod on, my dreadlocks bouncing, anticipating the fun and excitement of the next few days, listening to Wolfsheim and relishing that sparkling effervescent feeling of happiness and sheer pleasure in being ME, because my life is GOOD, in this time and this place, right now.
4) I'm at the Club With No Name in Eastbourne on Saturday and enjoying watching the glow, the radiance of personality and simple goodness emanating from my much loved friend. She's discovered how to stand on her own two stilletos and I watch, watch and smile as the whole room becomes absolutely entranced with her, and I experience the joy that comes from sharing how wonderful someone is, with other friends, with strangers.
5) I'm meeting someone very special at long last – my beloved's cat – who is every bit as delightful as I've been told. I realise she likes me too, this treasured and precious bundle of slightly wobbly four paws and a purr like a pigeon cooing.
6) I'm lying in bed next to my two sweeties, as they make love – not just fucking – for the first time in my presence. I realise that something very special is happening. I feel honoured - honoured and privileged to share in that – to be included; as they look into my eyes and then into each others, their arms around me, my arms around them. Dust motes shining in the air, little falling stars, so many possibilities, potential, the world opens, breathes, turns over.
7) There is no guilt, I'm here with the full permission of my husband. After months of lusting and restraint, at long last, I get my lips around the beautiful cock of the other man I'm in love with. He feels the warm breath from my open mouth, he thinks I'm teasing him as usual, then my head is suddenly pushed down fully over him by our mutual beloved, hearing his intake of breath, the gasp of someone who can't quite believe that a long anticipated event is happening, the surprise, then his pleasure, tasting his come, my eyes watering, gagging, I need to be here, need him inside my mouth desperately, now I can have him, so so happy to be getting what I want, and at the same time knowing he is taking pleasure in it, and knowing she is taking pleasure in it too. I can please both my sweeties at the same time, by doing something I love to do. The simple, uncomplicated joy in this single act is immeasurable.
8) Realising I was coping, realising I was actually having fun, in a huge crowd next to a terrifying bonfire, because I was there with two of my loved ones, knowing they would keep me safe, knowing that I would keep them safe, because we were together, a pack of three, bonded. And it was my choice to be there, with them. And I could leave, but I didn't want to.
9) Sitting, drinking tea and cuddling, hugging, chatting, under a blanket on the sofa with the prettiest of my loved ones. Then the contrast of lying tied into a medical chair, legs apart and on stirrups, skirt flung up, her fingers inside me, in a public space, vicious bruises on my thighs given from her. The look on her face so different from earlier, enhanced by the more intimate moments between us, the knowledge of each other outside of these, our play personas.
10) After spending most of my life believing I couldn't have orgasms at all, and then at a very late age, discovering I could have clitoral orgasms, but only this kind, and only under very specific circumstances... Well, let's just say there is a certain satisfaction to lying in the arms of two people, both of whom have made you come in a variety of different ways, spectacularly, so many times you've lost count. He held me down and looked into my eyes, I watched the pleasure in his face as he brought me to orgasm. She did things to my body no-one else has ever done, showed me I could come in so many different ways, so many new experiences. Did I just wake the whole house up screaming while I came?
These people make my world worth staying shiny for.
I need to remind myself why I'm doing this. I'm feeling my way through a morass of sensations and emotions at the moment, I'm finding it overwhelming, and I need to claw myself back up to the surface before I lose myself and fall back to sleep at the bottom of the ocean again. Seems these days as if I leave a trail of destruction and chaos behind me wherever I go. I've got to shake off this dark shadow before it takes hold, before I drown in it. I need to remember that I know how to swim.
To this end, I'm forcing myself to write down ten memories from the last two weeks which contained moments of pure joy. Here goes (in no particular order):
1) I'm on the dancefloor at Brighton Rock. I'm wearing platform heels and a red dress, and I hear the opening chords of Aerials by S.O.A.D. My heart starts pounding, and I know my friend is DJing – he'd asked me what song I would most like to hear, earlier, and this is the one I chose. It feels as if he's playing this song just for me, and I feel the power wash over my own body as I dance like a slut, dance like I'm alone in a field in the sunshine, dance for R as he watches me and I know that he likes watching me, and most of all I dance for myself, as I dance my life.
2) ...and about ten minutes later, and now I'm dancing to NiN's Closer with R, kissing him, looking into his eyes and knowing he's remembering all the other times over the years we've danced together, to that song: so many places, so many nights in dark clubs together, what we were then and what we are to each other now, still so very much in love after all this time.
3) I'm walking to work with my ipod on, my dreadlocks bouncing, anticipating the fun and excitement of the next few days, listening to Wolfsheim and relishing that sparkling effervescent feeling of happiness and sheer pleasure in being ME, because my life is GOOD, in this time and this place, right now.
4) I'm at the Club With No Name in Eastbourne on Saturday and enjoying watching the glow, the radiance of personality and simple goodness emanating from my much loved friend. She's discovered how to stand on her own two stilletos and I watch, watch and smile as the whole room becomes absolutely entranced with her, and I experience the joy that comes from sharing how wonderful someone is, with other friends, with strangers.
5) I'm meeting someone very special at long last – my beloved's cat – who is every bit as delightful as I've been told. I realise she likes me too, this treasured and precious bundle of slightly wobbly four paws and a purr like a pigeon cooing.
6) I'm lying in bed next to my two sweeties, as they make love – not just fucking – for the first time in my presence. I realise that something very special is happening. I feel honoured - honoured and privileged to share in that – to be included; as they look into my eyes and then into each others, their arms around me, my arms around them. Dust motes shining in the air, little falling stars, so many possibilities, potential, the world opens, breathes, turns over.
7) There is no guilt, I'm here with the full permission of my husband. After months of lusting and restraint, at long last, I get my lips around the beautiful cock of the other man I'm in love with. He feels the warm breath from my open mouth, he thinks I'm teasing him as usual, then my head is suddenly pushed down fully over him by our mutual beloved, hearing his intake of breath, the gasp of someone who can't quite believe that a long anticipated event is happening, the surprise, then his pleasure, tasting his come, my eyes watering, gagging, I need to be here, need him inside my mouth desperately, now I can have him, so so happy to be getting what I want, and at the same time knowing he is taking pleasure in it, and knowing she is taking pleasure in it too. I can please both my sweeties at the same time, by doing something I love to do. The simple, uncomplicated joy in this single act is immeasurable.
8) Realising I was coping, realising I was actually having fun, in a huge crowd next to a terrifying bonfire, because I was there with two of my loved ones, knowing they would keep me safe, knowing that I would keep them safe, because we were together, a pack of three, bonded. And it was my choice to be there, with them. And I could leave, but I didn't want to.
9) Sitting, drinking tea and cuddling, hugging, chatting, under a blanket on the sofa with the prettiest of my loved ones. Then the contrast of lying tied into a medical chair, legs apart and on stirrups, skirt flung up, her fingers inside me, in a public space, vicious bruises on my thighs given from her. The look on her face so different from earlier, enhanced by the more intimate moments between us, the knowledge of each other outside of these, our play personas.
10) After spending most of my life believing I couldn't have orgasms at all, and then at a very late age, discovering I could have clitoral orgasms, but only this kind, and only under very specific circumstances... Well, let's just say there is a certain satisfaction to lying in the arms of two people, both of whom have made you come in a variety of different ways, spectacularly, so many times you've lost count. He held me down and looked into my eyes, I watched the pleasure in his face as he brought me to orgasm. She did things to my body no-one else has ever done, showed me I could come in so many different ways, so many new experiences. Did I just wake the whole house up screaming while I came?
These people make my world worth staying shiny for.
Tuesday, 6 October 2009
Snapshots
A few moments of time standing still, from the last few weeks:
A very intense, slow and sexually charged scene between B and I, watched by O - lying in bed next to him, I was pushing against his control, physically, with a battle of wills on a sexual level, as I pushed and pulled at his skin very slowly, digging my nails in, staring intensely into his eyes, as he gave me a little bit of power over him, let me get away with it for just long enough for it to mean something when he took it back again. Then the kiss which followed: passionate and frantic, after controlled and restrained energy.
It's only fun when you know you won't be allowed to get away with it for much longer. Which is why I enjoyed slapping and kicking at him, knowing he was holding himself back and finding it amusing, only retaliating with spanking, until he'd had enough and they both pinned me down for a thorough smacking and whipping, and his arms held mine behind my back as I lay face down with red welts across my bottom, struggling and crying and pleading, as she forcibly brought me to orgasm.
_______________
B and O kissing, the light streaming in the window, dawn breaking, draining the colour to a sepia photograph, so beautiful, so perfect, making my heart turn over.
_______________
His hood falls over his face as he pushes me back on the bed, towering over me, his eyes meeting mine, a sense of menace, a dark stain, holding me down, I struggle slightly, meeting with such utter resistance I am still with prescience. He pulls at my clothes, fingers digging in to flesh. He picks me up, deposits me in such a way that my pussy is presented to her. She's fucking my pussy while he pushes his cock between my breasts, they are both straddling me.
_______________
I'm drunk...I hit him in the face. He sees stars. My eyes are terrified when I realise what I've done. He's going to fucking beat the shit out of me. He holds me down, I beg, 'sorry, sorry, please, don't' over and over. He's got me so wet, now he kisses me, and I'm not sorry at all.
_______________
Struggling so hard as B and O pinned me down, trying to get the cuffs on me, that B's thumb got cut on something and bled all over the place, meaning we had to stop so he could get a plaster. He only had one of those jaunty blue catering plasters which amused me no end. At least it didn't have Mr Bump on it or big purple dinosaurs or anything.
A very intense, slow and sexually charged scene between B and I, watched by O - lying in bed next to him, I was pushing against his control, physically, with a battle of wills on a sexual level, as I pushed and pulled at his skin very slowly, digging my nails in, staring intensely into his eyes, as he gave me a little bit of power over him, let me get away with it for just long enough for it to mean something when he took it back again. Then the kiss which followed: passionate and frantic, after controlled and restrained energy.
It's only fun when you know you won't be allowed to get away with it for much longer. Which is why I enjoyed slapping and kicking at him, knowing he was holding himself back and finding it amusing, only retaliating with spanking, until he'd had enough and they both pinned me down for a thorough smacking and whipping, and his arms held mine behind my back as I lay face down with red welts across my bottom, struggling and crying and pleading, as she forcibly brought me to orgasm.
_______________
B and O kissing, the light streaming in the window, dawn breaking, draining the colour to a sepia photograph, so beautiful, so perfect, making my heart turn over.
_______________
His hood falls over his face as he pushes me back on the bed, towering over me, his eyes meeting mine, a sense of menace, a dark stain, holding me down, I struggle slightly, meeting with such utter resistance I am still with prescience. He pulls at my clothes, fingers digging in to flesh. He picks me up, deposits me in such a way that my pussy is presented to her. She's fucking my pussy while he pushes his cock between my breasts, they are both straddling me.
_______________
I'm drunk...I hit him in the face. He sees stars. My eyes are terrified when I realise what I've done. He's going to fucking beat the shit out of me. He holds me down, I beg, 'sorry, sorry, please, don't' over and over. He's got me so wet, now he kisses me, and I'm not sorry at all.
_______________
Struggling so hard as B and O pinned me down, trying to get the cuffs on me, that B's thumb got cut on something and bled all over the place, meaning we had to stop so he could get a plaster. He only had one of those jaunty blue catering plasters which amused me no end. At least it didn't have Mr Bump on it or big purple dinosaurs or anything.
“You have no power over me”
I’m back, and better than before. I’ve re-activated my profile on IC and fetlife, re-activated most of the old weblogs, and I’m getting to use it again like I wanted to, like I enjoyed so much before.
Within half an hour of doing so, I got a nasty memo on ic from my ex, followed by a very emotional harassment email. I’ve set my ic profile to block her, and instructed my email programme to dump future emails from her straight in the archive, but it’s still a bit worrying. She’s still calling - phonecalls, texts, emails, memos - and I’m genuinely concerned for her that she’s having so much trouble moving on. She seems to be under the impression that everyone on ‘the scene’ is out to get me now, following my ‘crusade’ against her. Since I haven’t actually contacted her AT ALL since we split up, apart from texting her to say ’stop contacting me’, and deliberately took down my profile for two months to help her stop obsessing over me, it’s all a bit odd. Oh well, I guess everybody has had a ‘difficult ex’ situation at some point in their life. I’m more interested in getting on and living my life, the way I want to.
Within half an hour of doing so, I got a nasty memo on ic from my ex, followed by a very emotional harassment email. I’ve set my ic profile to block her, and instructed my email programme to dump future emails from her straight in the archive, but it’s still a bit worrying. She’s still calling - phonecalls, texts, emails, memos - and I’m genuinely concerned for her that she’s having so much trouble moving on. She seems to be under the impression that everyone on ‘the scene’ is out to get me now, following my ‘crusade’ against her. Since I haven’t actually contacted her AT ALL since we split up, apart from texting her to say ’stop contacting me’, and deliberately took down my profile for two months to help her stop obsessing over me, it’s all a bit odd. Oh well, I guess everybody has had a ‘difficult ex’ situation at some point in their life. I’m more interested in getting on and living my life, the way I want to.
Monday, 5 October 2009
Trial by Fire
When I started playing with people, and having a relationship outside my marriage, back in February, there were some very hard limits which R and I agreed between us of what I could and couldn't do with men. Those limits have become much more fluid, they are changing, and I can eventually see that there might be a point where I have full sex with both men and women outside of my relationship with R. This is the product of a HUGE and constant amount of communication, negotiation, loving give and take etc etc etc. I'm not ready for it NOW, but I have come to accept it is a possibility in the future.
I've come to realise that I am truly not able to be fulfilled, to live happily, loving and having sex with just one person. I love deep and wide, and I've got an awful lot of love to give. My sexuality is similarly HUGE, I've got a libido the size of a small universe, and I want to be able to give love and pleasure, where and how I choose to do so, to be in control of my own sexuality, my own heart, my own body. But I also don't want to fuck up the incredible relationship I already have.
I've not been a very actively sexual person in a long (very very long) time, until recently. I've not had that much fun, either. My world had retreated down to my R, my house, my cats and my job. I was mostly content, interspersed with feelings of utter sadness, for a good few years. Being a sexually fulfilled person has brought me back to life. I've regained interest in all the things I used to enjoy doing, years ago.
But I'm not used to this. I had a bit of a wobble recently because my identity is based on sacrificing my own needs for the needs of others, looking after people, being a Good Person. Having Integrity. Choosing to become fulfilled at what I worry is at the expense of R's happiness, made me question everything - who am I? What sort of person do I want to become?
What I have to remember is that I, and my relationship with R, is growing and evolving and changing, that these things can't happen without some upheaval and struggle. I'm in the process of finding within myself the courage to make this leap of faith, where something wonderful and new waits for me on the other side. And if I fall into the cavernous hole I'm afraid of, then I'll bloody well climb back out again, dragging R with me by the hair.
Something else that's come out of our discussions is the suggestion that R could try and explore his own needs for love and affection through polyamory. He's registered on a website and we'll wait and see, and if it all works out it will bring big changes too, but I'm shocked at myself; I just don't feel any concern, or jealousy, when I think about him loving or having sex with another woman. I feel pleased and proud. Is that weird? My only worries are practical things like - don't give anyone our landline, and I don't want anyone turning up on our doorstep at 3am having a personal crisis. It IS strange, especially when I consider how IMMENSELY jealous and possessive a person I was when we first met. But R has loved me so generously, so deeply, and for so long, that I do feel secure in his love. And I love him back in the same way, I adore him, I want him so much to be happy and to find the same pleasure and joy that I've found, for himself.
I have a couple of very special people in my life at the moment who I've just had an outstanding weekend with. I feel very safe, very protected, very loved, and very content and happy. R is happy because he would prefer me to have a few deeper relationships in my life, than many superficial ones, perhaps because he realises this is much more in character and right for me.
I feel cocooned in a secure place where nothing can touch me. It's strange how someone can terrify you in a very sexual way, looking like pure evil, as if they're just going to fucking RAPE you, do all sorts of incredibly hot, painful things to you, and then cuddle you close to their chest, stroke your face, tell you you're a good girl and they're proud of you. And how someone so drop dead gorgeous and glamourous that you can't BELIEVE they're holding you in their arms, can belt you in the face so hard your jaw hurts the next day, reduce your pain threshold because they've made you come so hard and so many times, then beat you so hard you cry; but also give you a place to be so safe in, so protected, so secure that you're able to cry in their arms, cry as they hold you, and you know - you just KNOW, that when they tell you it's okay, that it really IS okay, as you let some things go, and get some things back. Because they just took the time to listen, and to HEAR you. It's very strange indeed. But I like it.
I've come to realise that I am truly not able to be fulfilled, to live happily, loving and having sex with just one person. I love deep and wide, and I've got an awful lot of love to give. My sexuality is similarly HUGE, I've got a libido the size of a small universe, and I want to be able to give love and pleasure, where and how I choose to do so, to be in control of my own sexuality, my own heart, my own body. But I also don't want to fuck up the incredible relationship I already have.
I've not been a very actively sexual person in a long (very very long) time, until recently. I've not had that much fun, either. My world had retreated down to my R, my house, my cats and my job. I was mostly content, interspersed with feelings of utter sadness, for a good few years. Being a sexually fulfilled person has brought me back to life. I've regained interest in all the things I used to enjoy doing, years ago.
But I'm not used to this. I had a bit of a wobble recently because my identity is based on sacrificing my own needs for the needs of others, looking after people, being a Good Person. Having Integrity. Choosing to become fulfilled at what I worry is at the expense of R's happiness, made me question everything - who am I? What sort of person do I want to become?
What I have to remember is that I, and my relationship with R, is growing and evolving and changing, that these things can't happen without some upheaval and struggle. I'm in the process of finding within myself the courage to make this leap of faith, where something wonderful and new waits for me on the other side. And if I fall into the cavernous hole I'm afraid of, then I'll bloody well climb back out again, dragging R with me by the hair.
Something else that's come out of our discussions is the suggestion that R could try and explore his own needs for love and affection through polyamory. He's registered on a website and we'll wait and see, and if it all works out it will bring big changes too, but I'm shocked at myself; I just don't feel any concern, or jealousy, when I think about him loving or having sex with another woman. I feel pleased and proud. Is that weird? My only worries are practical things like - don't give anyone our landline, and I don't want anyone turning up on our doorstep at 3am having a personal crisis. It IS strange, especially when I consider how IMMENSELY jealous and possessive a person I was when we first met. But R has loved me so generously, so deeply, and for so long, that I do feel secure in his love. And I love him back in the same way, I adore him, I want him so much to be happy and to find the same pleasure and joy that I've found, for himself.
I have a couple of very special people in my life at the moment who I've just had an outstanding weekend with. I feel very safe, very protected, very loved, and very content and happy. R is happy because he would prefer me to have a few deeper relationships in my life, than many superficial ones, perhaps because he realises this is much more in character and right for me.
I feel cocooned in a secure place where nothing can touch me. It's strange how someone can terrify you in a very sexual way, looking like pure evil, as if they're just going to fucking RAPE you, do all sorts of incredibly hot, painful things to you, and then cuddle you close to their chest, stroke your face, tell you you're a good girl and they're proud of you. And how someone so drop dead gorgeous and glamourous that you can't BELIEVE they're holding you in their arms, can belt you in the face so hard your jaw hurts the next day, reduce your pain threshold because they've made you come so hard and so many times, then beat you so hard you cry; but also give you a place to be so safe in, so protected, so secure that you're able to cry in their arms, cry as they hold you, and you know - you just KNOW, that when they tell you it's okay, that it really IS okay, as you let some things go, and get some things back. Because they just took the time to listen, and to HEAR you. It's very strange indeed. But I like it.
Saturday, 3 October 2009
Evolving
Ah, this has been a hard post to write. I’ve been putting it off for a while until I felt ready to talk about some very complicated, very private feelings. But this blog is not just for *you*, it’s for *me*, and part of my self-reflection process is to write privately, and then write some more, and then share for comment and insight from people who may have experience in handling some of the same issues I struggle with.
So. My husband R and I went on holiday. We had fun, but it was also quite strange being completely cut off from my support network (couldn’t get my phone to work the whole week we were overseas). During this time I felt rejected sexually by R on a number of occasions, which fractured my already damaged sexual confidence.
I then had something of a moral/ identity crisis. When I started playing with people, and having a relationship outside my marriage, back in February, there were some very hard limits which R and I agreed between us of what I could and couldn’t do with men. Those limits have become much more fluid, they are changing, and I can eventually see that there might be a point where I have full sex with both men and women outside of my relationship with R. This is the product of a HUGE and constant amount of communication, negotiation, loving give and take etc etc etc. I’m not ready for it NOW, but I have come to accept it is a possibility in the future.
I’ve come to realise that I am truly not able to live happily loving and having sex with just one person. I love deep and wide, and I’ve got an awful lot of love to give. My sexuality is similarly HUGE, I’ve got a libido the size of a small universe, and I want to be able to give love and pleasure, where and how I choose to do so, to be in control of my own sexuality, my own heart, my own body. But I also don’t want to fuck up the incredible relationship I already have.
I’ve not been a very actively sexual person in a long (very very long) time, until recently. I’ve not had that much fun, either. My world had retreated down to my R, my house, my cats and my job. I was mostly content, interspersed with feelings of utter sadness, for a good few years. Being a sexually fulfilled person has brought me back to life. I’ve regained interest in all the things I used to enjoy doing, years ago.
But I’m not used to this. My identity is based on sacrificing my own needs for the needs of others, looking after people, being a Good Person. Having Integrity. Choosing to become fulfilled at what I worry is at the expense of R’s happiness, makes me question everything - who am I? Is this the person I want to become?
Some of the things R has said, really bother me. That he’ll never be 100% comfortable with me playing with others, having sex with others. But then on the other hand, why should I sacrifice my own personal happiness and fulfillment, and be only 20-30% happy with my own life, so he can go from (he tells me) 90% comfortable to 100% comfortable. If he’s 90% comfortable with me doing this stuff, that’s ok. Isn’t it?
He worries I will suddenly start becoming a complete tart and shagging half a dozen blokes who cover me in spunk, and he’ll end up miserable, won’t be able to handle it, and will eventually end up living in a bedsit in Portslade. Realistically I know I just ain’t that sort of girl, but the very fact he worries that my sexuality will make him miserable and destroy our relationship…that freaks me out.
This was/ has been my state of mind and so when I went over to visit B & O at the weekend, things inevitably went downhill. I felt rejected by both of them, and ended up feeling very tearful, and kinda going into meltdown in the few days following. What I have to remember is that I, and my relationship with R, is growing and evolving and changing, that these things can’t happen without some upheaval and struggle, and that if I can somehow find within myself the courage to make this leap of faith, something wonderful and new is waiting for me on the other side. And if I fall into the cavernous hole I’m afraid of, then I’ll bloody well climb back out again, dragging R with me by the hair.
Something else that’s come out of our discussions is the suggestion that R could try and explore his own needs for love and affection through polyamory. He’s registered on a website and we’ll wait and see, and if it all works out it will bring big changes too, but I’m shocked at myself; I just don’t feel any concern, or jealousy, when I think about him loving or having sex with another woman. I feel pleased and proud. Is that wierd? My only worries are practical things like - don’t give anyone our landline, and I don’t want anyone turning up on our doorstep at 3am having a personal crisis. It IS strange, especially when I consider how IMMENSELY jealous and possessive a person I was when we first met. But R has loved me so generously, so deeply, and for so long, that I do feel secure in his love. And I love him back in the same way, I adore him, I want him so much to be happy and to find the same pleasure and joy that I’ve found, for himself.
My sweeties, B & O, were supposed to be very casual play partners. But I’m just not a casual person and the fact is, that I have deep feelings for them. Bizarrely, R is actually happy about this, and happy for me to be loved in return. In fact, the more serious and the less casual I am about people, and they about me, the better he feels. I think maybe it’s because that’s more in character for me, and the out-of-character stuff freaks him out (like imagining me engaged in bukkake or something!) I know he would prefer me to have one or two serious sweeties than a dozen very casual playmates.
Who knows where it will all lead?
So. My husband R and I went on holiday. We had fun, but it was also quite strange being completely cut off from my support network (couldn’t get my phone to work the whole week we were overseas). During this time I felt rejected sexually by R on a number of occasions, which fractured my already damaged sexual confidence.
I then had something of a moral/ identity crisis. When I started playing with people, and having a relationship outside my marriage, back in February, there were some very hard limits which R and I agreed between us of what I could and couldn’t do with men. Those limits have become much more fluid, they are changing, and I can eventually see that there might be a point where I have full sex with both men and women outside of my relationship with R. This is the product of a HUGE and constant amount of communication, negotiation, loving give and take etc etc etc. I’m not ready for it NOW, but I have come to accept it is a possibility in the future.
I’ve come to realise that I am truly not able to live happily loving and having sex with just one person. I love deep and wide, and I’ve got an awful lot of love to give. My sexuality is similarly HUGE, I’ve got a libido the size of a small universe, and I want to be able to give love and pleasure, where and how I choose to do so, to be in control of my own sexuality, my own heart, my own body. But I also don’t want to fuck up the incredible relationship I already have.
I’ve not been a very actively sexual person in a long (very very long) time, until recently. I’ve not had that much fun, either. My world had retreated down to my R, my house, my cats and my job. I was mostly content, interspersed with feelings of utter sadness, for a good few years. Being a sexually fulfilled person has brought me back to life. I’ve regained interest in all the things I used to enjoy doing, years ago.
But I’m not used to this. My identity is based on sacrificing my own needs for the needs of others, looking after people, being a Good Person. Having Integrity. Choosing to become fulfilled at what I worry is at the expense of R’s happiness, makes me question everything - who am I? Is this the person I want to become?
Some of the things R has said, really bother me. That he’ll never be 100% comfortable with me playing with others, having sex with others. But then on the other hand, why should I sacrifice my own personal happiness and fulfillment, and be only 20-30% happy with my own life, so he can go from (he tells me) 90% comfortable to 100% comfortable. If he’s 90% comfortable with me doing this stuff, that’s ok. Isn’t it?
He worries I will suddenly start becoming a complete tart and shagging half a dozen blokes who cover me in spunk, and he’ll end up miserable, won’t be able to handle it, and will eventually end up living in a bedsit in Portslade. Realistically I know I just ain’t that sort of girl, but the very fact he worries that my sexuality will make him miserable and destroy our relationship…that freaks me out.
This was/ has been my state of mind and so when I went over to visit B & O at the weekend, things inevitably went downhill. I felt rejected by both of them, and ended up feeling very tearful, and kinda going into meltdown in the few days following. What I have to remember is that I, and my relationship with R, is growing and evolving and changing, that these things can’t happen without some upheaval and struggle, and that if I can somehow find within myself the courage to make this leap of faith, something wonderful and new is waiting for me on the other side. And if I fall into the cavernous hole I’m afraid of, then I’ll bloody well climb back out again, dragging R with me by the hair.
Something else that’s come out of our discussions is the suggestion that R could try and explore his own needs for love and affection through polyamory. He’s registered on a website and we’ll wait and see, and if it all works out it will bring big changes too, but I’m shocked at myself; I just don’t feel any concern, or jealousy, when I think about him loving or having sex with another woman. I feel pleased and proud. Is that wierd? My only worries are practical things like - don’t give anyone our landline, and I don’t want anyone turning up on our doorstep at 3am having a personal crisis. It IS strange, especially when I consider how IMMENSELY jealous and possessive a person I was when we first met. But R has loved me so generously, so deeply, and for so long, that I do feel secure in his love. And I love him back in the same way, I adore him, I want him so much to be happy and to find the same pleasure and joy that I’ve found, for himself.
My sweeties, B & O, were supposed to be very casual play partners. But I’m just not a casual person and the fact is, that I have deep feelings for them. Bizarrely, R is actually happy about this, and happy for me to be loved in return. In fact, the more serious and the less casual I am about people, and they about me, the better he feels. I think maybe it’s because that’s more in character for me, and the out-of-character stuff freaks him out (like imagining me engaged in bukkake or something!) I know he would prefer me to have one or two serious sweeties than a dozen very casual playmates.
Who knows where it will all lead?
Sunday, 20 September 2009
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.
___________________________________________________ ___________
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.
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.
___________________________________________________ ___________
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.
Saturday, 12 September 2009
Undone [erotic fiction]
I'm in total darkness.
___________________
My hands are reaching outwards, and I'm feeling cold metal surrounding me, below me, above me.
___________________
Have I been buried alive?
___________________
The vibrato thunk of a metal drawer being opened. Light. The surface I lie on is moving forward.
___________________
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.
___________________
My hands are reaching outwards, and I'm feeling cold metal surrounding me, below me, above me.
___________________
Have I been buried alive?
___________________
The vibrato thunk of a metal drawer being opened. Light. The surface I lie on is moving forward.
___________________
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.
Thursday, 10 September 2009
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 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.
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