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 2^nd and 3^rd 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 2^nd 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.

– – –

tbc

Muse 3

You

– – –

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.

xxx

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.

Or:

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.

Perca fluviatilis

Steady-turning, tip low,

feel extended through finest lineaments.

My arm’s sweeping twitch-response,

tugging darting replies, unequal to freedom.

Flash of black-barred gold and fiery fin,

within the cloudy flow,

as mounting pressure compels,

into the waiting net.

But not the pan.

New Lovers 5 – 7

The ‘story’ continues:

5

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.

 

6

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.

 

7

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

 

1

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.

 

2

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.

 

3

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.

 

4

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.

Pain Deferred. Pt 4

She checked her watch and placed it on the bed, undid the belt of her satin robe and discarded it, and knelt on the carpet facing the window, head bowed, waiting for him. He had said she must wait for 5 minutes but have no means of tracking those seconds except within her own head. She thought of what she had asked of him, what he had promised to give, and his request that she submit first, allow herself this abdication of control. He had promised her pain though, pain she had been unable to receive, but for which she was desperate. The litany of flogger, paddle, crop and cane ran through her mind, and her damp pussy became awash with her juices in moments, as she waited, alone, patient, desperate. Still, she was waiting for his first touch.

Surely this was more than 5 minutes. Maybe he was delayed. But she remembered he had said her phone could be left on for now to reassure her, although he claimed notoriously punctuality. Her legs were beginning to tremble, not from any physical stress of her position but from her emotional turmoil; rampant lust mixed with doubt… and fear she now acknowledged. Fear of whether she could in fact take what she wanted to experience.

A sound. Footfalls muffled by the carpet outside, the keycard in the lock! She heard him move into the room, and was desperate to see him, but she kept her discipline as he had said she should, her head remained bowed, eyes fixed on the carpet before her. She heard what must be a bag plop onto the bed and then she heard that lovely dark voice.

‘Grace. You are stunning. Even the beautiful pictures you sent me came nowhere near doing justice to the vision I see before me. I am singularly blessed that you chose me as your partner.’

She heard him getting closer as he spoke, his shoes and chinos appeared in her vision.

‘Raise your head and kiss me.’

She obeyed joyously, seeing him drop to one knee before her, quickly noticing his broad chest, wide shoulders, and lovely beard. An impression of brown sensitive eyes were all she had time for before his lips were softly brushing against hers, slowly inviting, pressing gently. He smelt of spice and dark sex, his taste was rich and full. Slowly, their mouths opened to each other, tongues met, embraced, chased, slowly, then with more purpose. She felt herself melting at this kiss, becoming a flowing, pulsing entity as he stirred her with his presence and touch. Only half-aware it was happening, her lips were becoming firmer and he matched her, not trying to dominate, just seeing what she liked it seemed. After what felt like a delicious age, she felt the pressure lessen along with the pace, and he moved to kiss her eyelids. Never before had she felt so full of energy but almost weak enough to faint.

‘Such beautiful eyes. I look forward to seeing them in many different moods, but for now I must forego that pleasure and ask you to look downwards again.’

This time her compliance met an inward reluctance but this did not slow her actions. He moved up and back towards the bed. That was the bag opening she thought, a little rummaging, and he is returning, going round behind her.

‘You desire restraint but your experience has been limited, let’s introduce you to cuffs. Stand for me Grace, and put your hands behind your back.’

She felt his strong hands guide her wrists into leather, and support her arms as the straps were tightened. Then she felt movement and heard metal click. He backed away a little and stayed still. Her hands were fastened together, cuffs on her wrists, and the sensation was so much greater than could be explained by the leather. She was bound, bound by him, bound to him.

‘Beautiful. Just so sexy and tempting, that arse really does cry out for the full treatment. Kneel again for me Grace.’

The silence grew as she achieved the required posture, it endured.

‘Remember you told me how this proposal of mine turned you on? That you would wait and wait as I watched? And that as you waited you would be more and more turned on? Let us test this remark of yours.’

Silence reigned again, as he moved to a position over to her left, out of vision as he sat in the chair she knew was there. She waited.

And it was as she had said.

She could still feel him there, the strength of his regard, and she believed his words that he found her beautiful, that he wanted her. He had always said this, but there was no faking that kiss. It had left her breathless. Her yearning for him was an aching fire, threatening to swamp her pussy and turn her legs to jelly… and he had hardly touched her yet.

She so wanted him, it had been building ever since she first read more than one story at a sitting. She did not care what he did, for she knew instinctively that she would love each and every nuance, every twist and turn, every demand, every offer. So she knelt still, offering herself completely. And waited as her passion took her over, but still she held.

His wonderful strong voice softly penetrated her erotic haze.

‘Grace, I am so proud of you. I can see just how turned on you are. Just waiting for me, you can make into the most wonderful pleasure for yourself. This is a great talent. One to be celebrated and nurtured.

Let us take you fully into the world of restraint, as you desire, and let me give you a little surprise before I begin to spank you. Would you like that?’

‘Oh yes,’ oh God yes she thought.

So saying he came to her, held her wrists and her arm as she stood, helping her to overcome her unsteadiness.

‘First let me disconnect these,’ he separated the cuffs from each other, allowing her hands to come to her sides. ‘Come and kneel on the bed, here. With your feet still near the bottom of the bed here, and your hands spread on the covers before you.’

She saw the other cuffs near the foot of the bed, and divined their destination. She noticed the restraints near them, and the longer straps coming from the edges of the headboard. With her pussy already so wet it seemed incomprehensible that this was exciting her further, but there was no denying it. Just like she knew there would be no denying him. Absolutely anything he asked she would give, she knew this. And still he had hardly touched her.

As she mounted the bed she almost came when she brushed one of the cuffs. Fuck. What was going on. Her labia were so distended and her pussy so wet, it felt heavy.

‘That’s good.’

And the simple praise sent such thrills coursing through her. She felt him attach a cuff to each ankle, stroking her skin softly as he applied them. His touch was delicious agony.

‘A little wider.’ She spread her knees apart and her feet, and then she could feel him attaching the cuffs to the straps. ‘Now for your wrists again.’

He took a pillow and placed it on the bed before her face, about level with her chin, as she pushed her hands forward so she sloped down from her hips. In this position he connected these cuffs and tightened the straps. At the moment she could now rock her hips forward if she needed, but could do little else.

Suddenly he grabbed her hair and roughly pulled her head up and tilted it sideways, the shock and lust filled her eyes.

‘So beautiful,’ he stroked a finger oh so gently along her jaw and over her cheekbone, so different from the lovely pain in her scalp. ‘That pussy looks oh so hungry, and so swollen and wet. Let us see if we can make it more so.’

He disappeared for a moment and the she felt something over her pussy, from mound down to below her cunt, cupping it and smeared in lube. She heard a noise and pressure pulled her pussy into the device. This must be a pussy pump.

‘Tell me when it begins to get uncomfortable, I believe this is the first time you have tried a pussy pump.’

Another noise and the suction began to be difficult to endure.

‘A bit too much,’ she gasped, causing him to reduce the pressure a little.

‘Better?’

‘Yes. Much.’

‘Now we shall leave it to do its work for a while, as I get out the instruments I have chosen for your instruction and show them to you.’

He pulled his bag onto the side of the bed and reached within.

‘Now. Have you decided on your safe word?’

‘Yes. Dante.’

‘Ah you decided to stick with that. Sounds good. Easy to remember easy to say, easy to hear. And a vision of heaven. How apt in your case’

She had to smile, he was always doing this, showering her with compliments.  It took a little while for her to realise he really did mean them.

The first spanking paddle appeared, pink satin on one side, leather on the other. He turned it slowly in his capable hands, displaying it for her before placing it on the bed. Next was a handle and a shaft, with a top – a two-part crop, the head was leather and thin, adequately long – it would be wicked. A small rubber flogger was flicked gently before her, and then placed down.  Another paddle, this one thick leather with studs, was set next to its fellow. She gasped when the heavy whip/flogger was taken from the bag. A big thick handle, substantial tails of leather, many of them, maybe 2 feet long, now draped over the covers. Others followed, a tiny box, maybe lipstick sized, that made her curious, another crop, heavy, leather tipped again, a real equestrian piece by the look of it, a simple 12” wooden ruler. Lastly, he moved away, and returned with a cane that he swished vigorously before dropping onto the bed.

The accumulation of possibilities was wonderful, her imagination played with the different sensations each could provide in the hands of this man who seemed to know them all, as he knew her, despite their circumstances. She knew this was why the display had been made, in silence. He believed that at crucial times, her body would know what she craved and cry out for it, once she knew what was possible and how she had reached her current level of fused pleasure and pain. Until then, he would be her guide, as he had been by message and email, and phone. She knew he would bring her pleasure even more exquisite than the delights of these last days. She desperately wanted this, needed it, as did her pussy, now even more swollen and madly sensitive.

‘How is your pussy feeling Grace my angel? Are you throbbing and hot? And wet as sin?’ He teasingly drew her attention back to her current focus of sensation.

As he released the suction and removed the cup, the surge of blood finding a new equilibrium was amazing, like suction or removing clamps on a nipple, but magnified, and in that even more sensitive area. She moaned before she could stop herself, but then realised that they were not currently playing the game of dominance to the extent that permission must be asked, and him addressed as Master or Sir. He moved to select the small rubber flogger and the satin and leather paddle. She waited.

‘Such a beautiful arse, so tender, such delicious curves.’

The lightest tickles began on her pert cheek, moving to the other, and back, and again, and down over the curves. In her current state she struggled not to ram her pelvis onto an imaginary cock. Soft satin surely now began a light rub, around the curves of her bum, the shapely sides, the tensioned buttocks. The first light blows landed and she shook. Not from the force of any blow, but from the joy. Not just the joy of this sensation, but also the knowledge of how much more was to come, how much she needed. She knew his awareness of her need for much more pain, more extreme heavy blows, but still he started this gently, and she could not credit the depth of her response.

The firmer stroking that followed was squirmingly divine, the tickling flicks of the flogger were light by comparison. Then he started in earnest, even firm blows of satin covered punishment, repeating themselves on her arse. He began on her buttocks, spreading upwards and round the sides as the warmth built in her arse, not yet a competitor to the fire in her pussy, but building. A pause, and now his naked hand smoothed over her arse, kneading her.

‘Ungh!’ Despite herself and her readiness, this blow caught her by surprise – so much harder. She caught her lower lip beneath her teeth as she stifled her voice as a second and third blow landed. And she was almost coming already. Two more blows and the tension throughout her body was unbelievable, the heat of her pussy and arse fired her convulsions. ‘Oooh.’ Thwack! And her pussy and her body shook in the throes of her first blinding orgasm in his presence.’Yeah, fuuuuck’ and moans of gibberish were shaken from her throat. She scarcely noticed he was spanking her still, harder as he knew she wanted. Little cries were coming from her unbidden. And it stopped.

‘Good girl Grace. Such a good slut, coming for me so soon. But you have so much more to give.’

Her blurry vision just saw him pulling the big flogger off the bed. Some part of her knew this might hurt worse, all of her knew she would love it.

Pain Deferred. Pt 3

When he told her he loved the sounds of his partner in ecstasy, she did not really know what to think.  She had no such positive impression of the noises she herself made during those snatched moments of self-pleasure, or all too rarely with a partner; but he seemed sincere, in this as in so many other things. In fact, as she thought back to her Sapphic days, she remembered how hot she had found the sighs and moan from her lover.

He had shown her the way by recording some of his erotica for her. She could do the same.

Thus she found herself, having checked the recording system on her phone, relaxing into one of her favourites amongst his stories. She had selected the tale of FF seduction and pleasure, impulsive, sensual, alluring and detailed in his descriptions of what gave pleasure.  She read this story so often she sometimes felt she did not need to look at the screen, her hands gliding softly over her skin as she savoured the words, the exquisite actions. Her caresses brought forth a sensual contentment, a relaxation that enabled the purest responses, her pussy moistening, as it infallibly did.

They had been messaging about the responsiveness of her nipples and how they had been neglected in their virtual exchanges of late, and he had suggested that she pay particular attention to her breasts as she began her masturbation tonight. The tingles that came so easily fired into greater intensity under her very first strokes of her nipples; as she began to use the harder fiercer stimuli she so often adored, the connection to her clit went electric, and turned on the juices gathering in her pussy. She was moaning gently but consistently, her legs easing softly apart, and her hips lifting a little as she gasped.

She turned to one of their recent exchanges, regarding her suggestions for  possible attire for a meeting, one in which he had been uncharacteristically blunt:

I approve re scandalous clothing. The type that makes me want to throw you over a tree-stump, rip off any knickers you might foolishly wear, and plunge my rigid cock in your dripping cunt right up to my balls. Xxx

Either that or be tied to a chair whilst you perform to turn me on.

               Mmmm I think I will enjoy dressing scandalously if that is the treatment I will get

Then, as now, her mind latched firmly onto the first option. In the sensual present, as she read more words promising an even stinging redness built into her arse, she picked up a new toy, and experimented, imagining his hands creating the patterns on her skin. She was amazed the way the tiny wheel delivered stinging little kisses to her flesh, each spiked-touch causing shivers of pleasurable pain to shoot right through her to her pussy.

She felt the increase in readiness as she gazed at the results of her efforts, and turned her mind to his strong capable hands trapping her limbs in cuffs and the strapping them so she could only just move. In her mind he moved into her line of sight and pulled the belt from the waist-loops, as he had suggested just that afternoon. She was melting as he folded it and grasped it in his hands, her pussy became drenched as he held the leather for her to kiss. Its smell and texture were exquisite, she almost cried as he removed it. And then, in her imagination, she waited, and the tension built, as on her own sofa, her fingers squelched into her cunt and her other hand turned on the recorder. Fingers embraced her clit as fingertips beckoned at her G-spot, calling forth that almost-desire-to-pee she knew with increasing familiarity. Her moans and gasps were only partly registering to her mind, as she swore and jerked at the first imagined blow. The tension throughout her frame was becoming unendurable, her toes were curling.

As she called desperately for her Master to make her come, her hips writhing, three non-existent blows were sufficient to thrust her hurtling into another mind-bending orgasm, her self eroded in the sensations of flooding, jerking, and pulsing, clenching muscles, in the electric fire sparking through her fibres and scintillating in her vision, as she shook from head to toe. As she relaxed contentedly, limbs draped nervelessly in joyous quiescence, she sent the recording of her ecstasy to her Master; and as she recovered further, she added pictures of her contented exhaustion.

Her Master responded, wishing she were relaxed in his arms:

Fingertips tracing your curves. The places that made you sigh as I kissed them.

The sweet musk of your come in the air.

As the days dragged by until their meet, he discerned a change in her, one she recognised herself once the impetus had been provided. She smiled more easily, she looked more powerful, more confident. Her eyes shone, in the pictures she sent her postures were more emphatic, whether relaxing or whilst poised alertly. She wanted to wear her sexier knickers more often; with the help of the changing weather, skirts and dresses replaced her ubiquitous jeans more and more. He kept telling her how very sexy she was, beautiful even; and she dressed more and more as if she was coming to believe this was true. She had phone numbers handed to her by assistants in shops. She was, he said, beginning to come back into herself as a sexual being, a beacon of enticement and desire. All this with just remote communication.

She had known from early on that she wanted this man to do the things that stirred in the darkest areas of her passionate being. To be spanked harder than any hand would stand, to offer her arse to the paddle, the crop, the flogger, the whip and maybe a cane. Oh God. She thought of the sound of the cane through the air, the glint in his eyes as he flexed it, and that sting she imagined as it landed. She thought of the marks it would leave. She had found pictures of women (and men) carrying these red wounds of desire; she wanted to be marked by him, to carry his brand, not just in her heart, but on her skin. Something she could touch and trace with wondering, wandering fingertips as she remembers just how the blows felt, what pleasures they generated deep within her, and the ties they drove within her flesh securing her to him totally. How incredibly wet and swollen her pussy would become under his spanking, how close to orgasm without other stimulus – or so she was sure it would be, when he did what she so wanted, delivering artistic, intense pain as she shuddered in the restraints.

Yet now, she found herself apparently contemplating a dilemma. The more he talked about caressing her, loving her intelligence, wanting to bring her pleasure, to lick her to orgasm after orgasm, the more she wanted this too. She found herself considering the delights of awakening each other with gentle caresses of hands and mouths and bodies. She imagined the prolonged kissing and licking and stroking he had described as he showed the pleasurable possibilities of so very much of her skin. In her mind she felt his lips and beard against her neck and throat, the gentle sucking on her nipples that she loved from others and would make her moan from him. In fact, just contemplating the long slow, sensual erotic possibilities, she was moaning and gasping. Could she have this too? It seemed she must.

Lo. He was offering exactly that. Lover and master, with no restrictions, no insistence on just one approach to their dynamic. All possibilities open and all intensely delightful, in such very different ways. When they met, they would need time, lots of it, and many meetings, as frequently as they could manage.  The prospect was making her very wet indeed; and still, he had not touched her.

Thus it was during the long, sweet, agonising wait, and thus it was right now, but, in just over 5 minutes, he would touch her.

 

tbc.

Long Weekend

We needed a break and our long-planned trip to Bath happened this weekend. Despite chronic fatigue we managed to rest up and recuperate a bit. Some lovely cheeses, salamis and ham were purchased, along with excellent artisanal bread.

 

Every day, this was the view from our front door:

 

On Fri we ate in the restaurant that is cheek-by-jowl with the residence. Swimming crabs were lovely.

On Sun we visited the Eastern Eye, stunning setting for truly interesting and unusual fine Indian cuisine.

The standard of cooking is quite remarkable for the price. A real treat on each visit.