Pain Deferred pt 5

With apologies for the long delay, here is Grace’s encounter with her flogger.

– –

She saw those long heavy falls in her mind, as she felt them tickling her back. Tracing over her shoulders with just enough weight to imply their texture. Then the spread of hard impact, of fast propelled leather on ivory skin. Something about that multi-layered pain began to speak to her from within sensation’s stimuli. A 2nd and 3rd blow confirmed that this device, in his hands, might be a new level of pleasure. As the teasing trace moved to the lower she listened for the blow to begin, but a 2nd trail of leather over expectant skin came first.

Then the blow that called pleasure forth from deep within, urging her to savour this moment. Only one this time, before the leather trail began again; over and over from curve of back to the beginning of her sore redness. Just the tingle of how those weighty traces might feel over her abused flesh was causing more juices to flow within her aching twitching pussy. The blows created a delicious pain but not as much as she might have expected. Was he holding back? Why?

The shudders started as he rested the full weight of those leather falls on her sensitised arse, pulling them so slowly up her curves, swirling them across her cheeks, circling upwards to lean them against her delicate buttocks. She struggled to quell her impulse to squirm, to raise herself upwards seeking force, impact, violence. Oh yes. Now! As he moved the flogger away, no contact, that air surely betokening the divine vicious impact she craved.

And contact she got, of the handle’s bulbous end opening her lips, juices coating the lovely leather and spread by it over the full extent of her vulva. That delicious lubed massage sending delirious signals running from pussy to nipples, to toes, to brain. When he started up a long luscious stroke up to and over her clit, her moans grew louder, desperate attempts to fuck into the pressure with her still swollen pussy. She was so close already.

‘Oh God, Fuck. I’m going to come.’

All contact ceased.

‘Not yet.’

Frustration groaned from her.

Then she had no space for thought, no capacity for speech. The repeated blows started to be the only things in her existence apart from the sexual power surging through her body, she had no consciousness of her surroundings. Even the much desired presence of her lover, her Master, existed only as a lodestone within her heart, a dedicatee of her total tribute.  Then a change in sensation, as blows whipped the arcing tips across her skin, instead of directly onto it. This continued as she heard his voice. She remembered what he had said later, but did not seem to have processed them at the time.

‘You wanted this

And more

I will meet your need

With this and more

I give myself to you with every blow

As you give yourself to me.’

The direct blows after the voice showed her that before he had been gentle. She entered some weird timeless space. A space of dark warmth and delicious pain. In which she came, in which she was the earthquake within a body the volcanic aching surge, of building tension and orgasmic release.

Her partial return was to continued pain-stimulus, no longer in orgasm’s throes but still in what she would learn to call sub-space. When the lashes stopped and his hands rested on her brutalised flesh, she heard him call her name.

‘Grace. Grace!

I am going to make you come again.’

The stinging pain on her pussy was tremendous. It was also unbelievably erotic, a direct trigger onto the electric switch of her clit. The narrow crop landed again and again on her pussy lips. Before his fingers thrust just inside her. Firm and hard against her sweet spot, repeatedly. Other fingers pinched her clit and moved. Her pussy walls moved with them, clenching in waves over his.

And he kept going, as she shrieked and moaned and shuddered as best she could within her restraints, driving her again up and over the peak, never letting her fall far before the next ascent. And then the crop began to land sharp and hard upon her arse. Her world became enclosed again, with this burning stinging pain as its centre.

She found herself being softly kissed, hands gentle on her body, her name being softly spoken in that voice she found she loved. Cuffs were still on her wrists and ankles but free to move. She began to kiss back eagerly but not too hard, her unconscious self perhaps recognising her emotional exhaustion – as it seemed did he.

Him. Her lover, her Muse – her need, her desire. Now, at last, her Master.


So they rested for a while, as he caressed her aroused skin, murmured the types of things she had longed to hear as pillow-talk for so long. They kissed softly, with passion and affection, as he held her. He praised her behaviour and her endurance, but insisted he must now treat her wounds of pleasure. From his bag he drew a small tub. ‘Arnica cream.’ He smoothed it softly over her arse which had received such cruel, divine treatment, before returning to cradle her in his arms.

‘When we have rested a little more, and you have refreshed yourself, I would like to see how many successive orgasms you can experience.’

The smile accompanying this statement was both loving and wicked, and Grace was melting again.

– – –


Muse 3

– – –
A smile to melt my heart
Eyes to drown within
or sending sparkling light to brighten my world
Hair that in touching your neck and shoulders
reminds me again how my lips long to be just there
Hair that I know is mine as reins to your need
Soft cheekbones to be kissed
as do avid lips that feel like velvet
whose questing eager honeyed tongue dances
so playful and submissive
Silky skin conveying the passion of my touch
to your hungry soul –
a wonderful canvas for your chosen ink
Tall elegance, flaring hips, exuding more grace
than ever you know
I love your open laugh & ready smile –
   Your indulgence of my sillier whims
   Gentle wit & teasing ways
   That lilting light lovely voice
   Your different take on the world
   The intelligence so much of what you do tells me you have
That immeasurable value of your writing and understanding of mine
Your pussy haunts my thoughts –
   taste, textures
   the specificity of conformation
   each varied response that is
   always & inescapably you
Pulsing, clenching, lubricating
you and your cunt drive me wild
Those other things you do with your mouth
that also spell-bind me
Your crazy demanding nipples
that became so much crazier
mind-blowing in the consequences
and consequent pleasures
Indelible now, those primal jerks of pleasure as I teased
yet another thing that makes me so hot for you
Your needs and your desires
sweetest & darkest
surrendering to me offering yourself for my pleasure
which you accept, is often me pleasuring you.
– –
You have more worth, more beauty, than would take a lifetime to tell
and this little attempt is no suitable tribute
but shows, I hope, some inkling
of why I care so much
for You.

Lovers’ dilemma

A dilemma of delights:

To wake to your lover cradling or cradled,
Body beautiful beside you,
To caress and kiss to drowsy waking,
And slow morning lust.


To find your dreams directed,
At your muse’s ardent attentions,
Until sleep merges into conscious passion,
Irresistible desire melding you together.


– – –

Except of course, the dilemma is only an apparent one, and before the event, for lo the solution is presented automatically when chance dictates which partner wakes first.

New Lovers 5 – 7

The ‘story’ continues:


The slick of you,

the slide, the grip,

the clasp of you.

The trap of your eyes,

the lure of your lips,

the curve of your hips.

The way you sway me.


The spell of you, cast so long ago,

ritually burned into my being,

with each shuddering orgasm you undergo.



These fingers still feel your skin,

your slick walls.

My mouth seems fresh-kissed,

but ever eager for the next.

Your taste lingers, in unerase-able memory.


My eyes see yours at every moment,

my ears hear your gentle voice,

your tuneful laugh.

Your parting words still burn my consciousness;

a promise now made 2 days hence,

to be fulfilled in 4 days more.



Freshly fucked

a warm contented smile

graces her glowing face.

Shining eyes affirm this new lover.

A gentle graceful touch, irresistable,

draws both close again.

Clothes fall.

The world will wait.




Poems: New Lovers 1-4

The beginning of a sequence based on the early moments of an affair



Sensuality overloads my senses,

Your slim fingers brushing through hairs,

To tweak my nipples.

Your lips softly seek to open mine,

To offer me your breath,

Your tongue a play-thing for your lover.

Sinuous sexuality,

As your hips dance against mine,

Coaxing my cock erect,

Dewing to match your longed-for lips,

Softly, you command me,

Divinely obscene at my ear.



Sweat-drenched limbs entwined,

Damp hair clinging to shoulders,

Tired, ecstatic, dripping,

Wobbly, aching legs,

Demanding more, beyond reason,

Beyond sense, bar the sense,

Of unquenchable need.

They cannot get enough,

Of lust and pleasure,

Of each other.



Slow, panther-like, graceful,

Heel-lengthened legs in satin contrast,

To sheerest lace,

Hem tracing your crotch.

Your heat burns me from across the room,

My fire mounting as you approach,

Eyes lustfully locked onto mine.

I fall to my knees before you reach me,

You cradle my head in your hands,

And name me your lover,

Your cared-for slave.



Surprises selected,

Now prepared, she exits the bathroom.

He rests, bare-chested, on their bed,

As requested.

She loves his body now,

Her locks’ new master-key;

It seems he speaks true,

When he says he loves hers.

His eyes widen,

As an affirming smile greets her adornment.

A creation of lace, chosen for this moment,

Will be christened well by pagan passion.

As his arms reach out she gathers his hands,

Kissing his palms;

Then, smiling, she turns,

And lifts her hem,

A red jewel winking in her virgin arse,

Telling him,

This cherry too must be eaten this night.

But first…

She hands him the paddle.

Strange Beginnings

She came to console, to heal, to cheer.
He saw her hurt, her fear,
Her inner treasure and outward beauty.
Recognised now, their need grew, their own and each other’s.
Need’s demands, thus  oriented, made known mutually,
Could not be denied.
Emotional whirlwinds insisted on physical expression,
Each to the other, in focus as well as desire.
Vulnerabilities laid bare, strengths shattered,
In lustful but loving abandon.
Until their selves sprang reborn,
Divinely strengthened by their lover’s regard, their worship.
Two aflame in one fire of passion, recycling its fuel.
Virtues reborn, as their very selves.
Inner contentment, newly created,
Resists all transient ills,
Their mutual open-ness embracing acceptance,
Of all the universe is, and might be,
Magicked by their empowering togetherness.