Control


The first moments of 2011 were spent naked, panting and kissing. Traditionally, in other words.

The new year thing was by-the-by — it was a tryst much longed for by all parties concerned, and the new year was another excuse to get together and get naked. And you all know only too well how I loves to get naked.

There is a myth that with age, the sex drive wanes. This is simply not true. Separating us chronologically are 17 years, although you wouldn’t know it to look at him. Or to fuck him, come to that.

He calls me “jailbait”. I’m 42.

In terms of experience, we pretty much match each other, thanks to my often wistfully remembered slutfest. And then every so often I surprise him. Or he surprises me.

Yesterday was my turn to be surprised. A confirmed kinkster, although he refers to himself as “conservative”, he took vanilla and spiced it up to a level beyond anything that had gone before. He gave me an all-over body massage that rendered me speechless. I murmured as much, from within my stupor-like haze, and he giggled.

“Good to know. So if I ever want to shut you up, I now know what to do.”

I would have fired back one of my trademark smartass comments, but I truthfully didn’t care. If it meant that I got to experience this fantastic and sensuous hand rub again, I’d gladly remain silent.

At one point he lay down on top of me. I was face down, and so was he — but he held off from the obvious poke-and-prod-with-cock scenario — he’s classy like that.

“Is this what you mean by a full body massage?” I whispered into the comforter.

“Kinda.”

At which point he flipped me over, and grabbed me by the cunt.

*************************

We spent today apart — family commitments, prior engagements and so on. Yet all day long I could feel his touch on me. His fingers between my thighs. His cock in my cunt. His breath on the back of my neck. His legs entwined with mine. It was like an indelible print — it kept me in a permanent daze all day. Thank god for multi-tasking, or I’d not have achieved anything since this morning that didn’t involve sitting and staring blankly into space.

All in all, a most auspicious start to the new year.

I raise a glass to you all — to the new year, to new challenges, to new experiences and new forms of fun. May 2011 be a great year for all of you.

Love,
Juno x

I can see the future.

The image is not as clear-cut as one might hope, but is less blurry than one might fear.

I see the past clearer, but that’s a given — the past is a reflection of what has been, and is, as so we well know, 20:20.

In the past, I see the comforting strong arms holding her passionately, kissing her as her knees buckle, preventing her from slumping to the floor in a delirious heap.

In the past, I see her, half-naked and half-delirious, legs akimbo, head thrown back, writhing in ecstasy. I hear the guttural sounds of unadulterated and pure joy escape her lips as his tongue and teeth work  their magic on her. I see her shudder to a thundering climax that seems to last for hours – and then another, almost concurrent, shakes her into further frenzy.

In the past I see his lips meet hers, and hear them murmur to each other through passionate kisses. Not words per se, but sounds of acquiescence and wonder, or warmth and affection, of sensuality and desire.

Looking forward, the images are not so sharp, but they are very real.

I see two figures, sans clothing. She is restrained, arms secured firmly to the side. He is poised above her, teasing her body with feathery licks and nips wherever he pleases. He has her at his mercy, or so it would seem, much to the delight of them both.

I see him straighten, and the reposition himself to thrust into her — but he stops with only an inch of cock inside her yearning cunt. Their eyes meet and each holds the others’ gaze, each willing the other to break first — he for her to beg, her for him to fuck her, hard… just as they both know they want him to. Eventually, she cracks.

“Fuck me.”

“What? Say again.”

“Fuck me.”

“Do what? Why? Tell me.”

“Fuck me. Now. FUCK ME NOW.”

“Tell me why.”

“You want it.”

“And?”

“I want it.”

“And?”

“You need to be inside me.”

“And?”

“I need you inside me.”

“Magic word?”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please … you know what!”

“No. Say it. Tell me. Articulate.”

“Please fuck me.”

“That’s a start. Give me more.”

“Please slide your cock inside me.”

“More.”

“Please fuck me before I explode with frustrated desire. Please… just, for the love of god, just please fuck me now.”

“Because?”

“Because I need you inside me. Because you arouse me beyond belief. Because I want us to meld. Because… I can’t focus anymore… goddamit — please!”

It is there that the future dissipates. The vision swims and swirls before my eyes, and I cannot see what happens next.

Will he fuck her, slam himself into her, make her scream with ecstasy?

I prophesize that he will.

It was never an ambition of mine to be fisted.

In fact, when reading this piece, I was reminded of how I once felt about the whole fisting experience. Except I was far less enthusiastic than she sounds.

“Euw,” I thought to myself on more than one occasion.

“A whole fist? Inside my poor little pussy? What if it goes too far in, and I feel his watch in me– and it snags on one of the leftover pubic hairs goddamn-them that evaded the all-pervading destruction of my depilatory efforts? What then? Aiieee!!!”

When i imagine the bad of a situation, I tend to go straight to worst-possible-case scenario, and wallow there for a while. It’s one of the joys of being neurotic. Of which there are many.

And then it happened for the first time.

I lay in his arms, and I could feel his fingers inside me, probing into the deepest part of me, furiously. It was his desire to make me gush my come all over his hand, and by golly he was giving it his all.

“How many are inside me?” I asked him. “Fingers, I mean.”

He giggled. (How sexy is it when a guy giggles with pure pleasure? It could sway even the most frigid of hearts, I’ll bet.)

“Umm… all of them.”

“All of them? All???”

“Yeah. All.”

“All. Four. Fingers.”

“Yes, all four. And don’t forget my thumb.”

“You mean you’re….”

“Yeah. I’m fisting you. How does it feel?”

It felt fabulous, if the truth be told. I felt filled up, but it was different than the thick-cock-filling-me-feeling. And it was lovely, because the movements made by his fist inside me were so different to a cock. So sensual, yet so raw and so powerful. I could liken the smooth, fullness of the moments to how it felt immediately after my anal passage relaxes and allows a cock that is fucking it full access.

It was wonderful.

But I was still doubtful. I mean, if it was this easy, what had stopped all my other lovers from trying it? Was it because this guy was more perverted? Unlikely. Perverted in a different way, maybe?

Yeah — maybe.

I strained to look. “I wanna see!”

“Here, I have an idea. Hold on a second…”

His voice trailed away as he reached behind him and grabbed a large professional digital camera from the stand next to the bed. He fiddled with it a little, and then handed it to me and started positioning my arms with his free hand.

“Wait… let me move your hands for you… lift your arms up a bit… yes.. that’s it. Now push the button.”

I duly pushed the button, and heard the satisfying click-whirr-clunk of a photo taken. He took the camera from me, and single-handedly adjusted it so that it reflected the last picture taken, and then showed me.

Sure enough, there was my cunt, and his fist… all the way inside it. (And he wasn’t wearing a watch.)

It’s the oddest thing to see your pussy iconized like that. The whole picture was my pussy and his wrist protruding from it. And as i was looking at it, I could feel his fist inside me. Accommodating myself to fit him had been far easier than I’d thought, although I am not terrifically big in the cunt area.

Practicalities dispensed with, we returned our attentions to fucking. Specifically, to him fucking me with his hand.

His whole hand all the way inside me. Fisting me.

The sweetest and most intense pressure as his pace increased and my grip on reality started to unhinge. The build-up inside me of pre-orgasmic excitement and an almost-but-not-quite unbearable tension in my bladder or thereabouts spiralled me higher and higher to orgasmic bliss until i came and gushed out rivers of fluid all over his hand, and I heard his contented sigh of satisfaction.

“That’s it, come for me baby. Yesss….”

I exhaled, and lay back, exhausted. I felt his hand slide out of me, caressing me as it slid. I heard his satisfied breathing complementing my own jagged coming-down gasps and i felt blissed-out and dazed.

My first fisting.

Beguilingly and bewilderingly polite. This was my first impression.

A soft-spoken and courteous person by nature, Adam’s initial inquiries about me were very cordial, and carefully structured. In addition to the fact that English was not his mother tongue, which i could tell was restricting him slightly in how he expressed himself, he was obviously also uncomfortable in expressing his desires verbally. And, apparently, unused to dirty talk or profanity.

Or so I thought.

Maybe it’s a xenophobic trait within me that should be stamped out like a burning scrap of paper. But the northern European accent that colored his English so prettily invoked a very polite and well-mannered attitude and impression… which was hard to gel with the disgracefully depraved way in which I like to cavort.

Suffice it to say that I presume way too much.

For this particular blind date, pictures had been exchanged. By the handful. We’d recognized each other immediately from aforementioned photos, through the steam of a Saquella espresso machine in the corner of a seductively warm cafe on a blustery cold and wintry evening. The lights outside along the sea front danced brightly, giving a false impression of cheeriness, but there was nothing cheery about the biting wind outside. We had, however, done our best to banish any last vestige of cold by both ordering wine — red for him, mulled with a stick of fresh cinnamon for me. We looked at each other, and smiled… and I was wondering how to broach a subject somewhat less conventional than the severity of the weather, when he took my hand and placed it on his thigh.

No words really necessary after all. Especially not when i ran my finger deliberately slowly over the growing bulge on his inner thigh.

I’m wet just at the thought of it, as I write.

He leaned into me and whispered politely “I need to fuck you, the sooner, the better. Can we go?”

The next few minutes were a blur of giggles, and bill-paying, and urgency, and hands clasped tightly, and half-walking, half-running to his place, only a short block away from the cafe. Formalities that had seemed to worryingly important had all but been dispensed with as we collapsed through the door, and into each other.

At first, we hugged and held each other very close, our hands roaming, and divesting each other of our accumulated layer of clothing. Once we were suitably scantily attired, he paused, and took my chin in his hand, lifting my face to kiss him.

Dear god, but he could kiss. My knees nearly buckled.

The passion intensified, and not breaking from the kiss, he managed to remove my remaining articles of clothing. Lacy panties in a puddle on the floor, where they had fallen after he’d given them a sharp, commanding tug. Matching lacy bra strewn halfway across the room, where I’d find it much, much later, decorating a very good reproduction of Guernica. All i wore were knee high socks, and tall, black, leather cowboy boots, which despite their heel, brought me not very close to his height at all (he had to bend to kiss me, but he didn’t seem to mind).

So i was naked but for the boots, which put me in mind of another occasion, and he was barefoot, in jeans, with a button fly with which I’d been struggling until he began kissing me. Once he’d started the kiss, it distracted me enough that I’d kind of concentrated just on that.

His giant-like gentleness was short-lived. He finally broke from my lips, and somehow twirled me in a circle until i was held tight with his arm, but bent over it, with my side against his muscular but softly fuzzy stomach. He almost lifted me in order to get me into position, nudging my arms up and onto the desk, where i rested, facing down, leaning on my forearms and elbows. He slowly stroked my back with his hands; long, relaxing strokes that discombobulated me so much that when he landed me a massive blow to the buttocks, i jumped.

“Stay still,” he commanded, still very polite, but unarguably firm.

I do what I’m told, me.

I felt the warmth of his body as he leaned over me, his cock nudging against my ass, as his hands explored me. He left one hand stroking my body, holding it inches from the surface of the desk, and used the other to draw an imaginary line from my cunt to the end of my ass. All the way, in one slick and slippery stroke.

I gasped. His fingers were strong and probing, and still cold from the inclement weather outside. I wasn’t complaining.

Slowly, deliberately slowly, he started to stimulate me, his whole hand probing, touching, encircling and teasing. This was a touch unlike any I’d previously encountered, and the heady feeling with which it left me had me reeling. In a good way. In moments he brought me to a surprisingly thundersome climax, leaving me wet, spent and thoroughly slippery. As i leaned on my forearms and panted to get my breath back, I heard the crackle of a foil wrapper, then the unzipping of his jeans, followed by the soft sound of denim hitting carpet.

Then politeness left the building once and for all. He grabbed me, hard, but not ungently, spread my legs apart, and held me still with my face on the table; then swiftly, smoothly entered me with a single thrust and no fumbling. His cock felt like solid steel as it entered me and he made sure i could feel how hard he wanted, or needed to fuck me.

“Spread those legs more, baby… yes!” As he pumped.. and pumped.

He grunted, I moaned.

He sweated, drops of moisture falling onto my back. One hand twisted in my hair, pulling it but not yanking my head. Thrust. Fuck. Pump. Push.

“God yes. Yes. Fuck me. Fill me. Yes.”

Harder. Faster. Harder still… faster still…

He grunted his intentions like a mantra.

“Fuck that cunt, that soft sweet cunt, going to fuck it harder than it’s ever been fucked. Fill your cunt. Yes? You want that, baby? Yes?”

In my head, I drifted away on a cloud of spaced-out bliss; the physical not matching the mental. I was in full physical submission, restrained by his strong hand, and his deliberately thrusting body; yet my body gladly accepted, even welcomed the hard furious fucking it was receiving.

Somewhere far away, I heard myself wail… softly at first but growing gradually stronger and more shrill. I could sense the pink light of orgasm approaching as he kept pounding my g-spot until i gushed, my mind afloat in ecstasy, my cunt awash with girlie-cum. It didn’t stop him. Rather, it increased the intensity of his fucking and the depth of each push into me. I felt my body slide forward across the desk, skater-like on a film of sweat. Astonishing really, since such a short while ago I’d felt so cold i couldn’t stand still, and now i was perspiring.

Since i was now sated, regrouping after the orgasm, i could concentrate on his pleasure more fully. I pushed back onto him, using my sweat-aided leverage. I tried to do my kegels as he fucked me, only succeeding some of the time since he was by now pumping hard and very fast.

“Yessss!” With a shout, he came, holding me tightly by the shoulder and hair.

Not quite so polite, after all. But a pleasure to know.

Fleshbotted again.

She felt him slide in and out of her, as he lay on top of her, holding him close to her.

“You like that?” he whispered lasciviously into her ear. “My cock is all the way inside your ass. Do you like it like that?”

She shivered with joy, and murmured a tiny “Yes…” into the pillow.

He hugged her tighter, and continued to slowly pump himself into her.

“That’s so good to hear, baby. You’re such a good girl.”

*******************

This entire anal sex episode had started some months earlier, on a theoretical level. The subject had come up in conversation, and nervously she had mentioned how she was scared of trying it again.

“I tried it once,” she typed him on an Instant Message application. “It hurt so badly, and only after a long time did it start feeling good. I tried once or twice since, but I couldn’t make it past the pain.”

There was dead air for an ominous and elongated minute and then she saw that he was typing a reply.

“Firstly,” he wrote, “you needn’t worry. The key is to relax. And you are under no obligation to do anything — if you’re not happy, it just won’t happen. You have to trust me – which I know you do. But i will not — would not — ever force you to endure anything that you have no desire to do. Know that, and relax.”

Reading those words did relax her. Immediately.

“Thank you,” she typed in, gratefully.

He continued.

“It is all about technique. And arousal. And trust. Don’t worry, baby, it will be fine.”

And then he had to go. Much relieved, and feeling unburdened, she breathed easily, and ceased worrying.

*******************

As they’d entered the room it had been how it always was with them. Drawn together as if magnetic, she’d reveled in his touch, so strong and sensual and familiar. The expression “melting into his arms” wafted through her head, and she dismissed it as too trite, but it still resonated. It was, after all, exactly how she felt.

The urge to control manifested itself almost immediately. As they kissed, he tugged at her hair and she weakened.

“Get naked, baby. Now. And hop onto the bed.”

She did as she was told.

“Good girl. Lie next to me.”

Again, she did as she was bid. She truly trusted him, which was why she’d allowed him to take control ever since their first meeting. He embraced her, and then shifted himself so that he was lying on top of her, as she lay on her stomach. His arms encircled her and she could feel their strength. He whispered to her, and she could feel his lips move against her ear, which excited her all the more.

“I’m going to fuck you so good. So. Damn. Good. Such a good girl you are, baby. And so wet and ready for me. ”

He slid himself inside her cunt from behind, and held himself there, impassive. She pushed herself back onto him, and he started to pump into her, slowly. Deliberately.

“That’s it, baby. Give me that pussy.”

The fingers of his left hand found their way into her mouth where she sucked, teased and licked them lovingly. Her hips were angled upwards, giving his right hand access to the entrance to her cunt, where his fingers stroked her slowly, bringing her to a thundering clitoral climax.

As she shuddered beneath him, she felt his right hand move from her cunt to the side of her body. Moments later, she felt a dribble of deliciously cold lube trickle between her cheeks, and his hand begin to play around her tight little anus. A finger slid in, and she gasped. Was she ready? She wasn’t sure.

“Relax, baby. I want you to relax your muscles. All of them. Will you do that for me?”

“I’ll try,” she mumbled into the pillow.

“What was that?”

He pulled her head up by the hair, to improve the acoustics. She repeated herself, only more coherently.

“Good girl. My good girl.”

She felt one finger slide inside her, and then two. His thumb massaged the anus, and she succumbed to the sensation.

Suddenly, sharp pain, and she yelped.

“Ow, fuck!”

“You’re not relaxed enough, baby,” the sensuous voice murmured. “Trust me. Yes?”

She nodded, and made a conscious effort to do just that. The massaging resumed, which felt great. Then she felt him slide into her, and absolutely no pain at all… only the mild discomfort that goes hand-in-hand with that great feeling of having one’s ass ploughed.

It was fabulous. His voice in her ear once more, delighting her.

“You like that? My cock is all the way inside your ass. Do you like it like that?”

Oh god, did she ever.

UPDATE: We here at Juno Central find to our delight and amazement that we have once again been Fleshbotted by the very lovely Chelsea G Summers… Thank you so much, from the deepest recesses of all my fun places, Chelsea… *smooch*

“I’m going to fuck you to bits.”

She shifts so that she can kiss the top of his head.

“I should damn well hope so. And i believe you’ve started as you mean to go on.”

He holds her to him tightly, kissing her hard, one hand pinching her nipple firmly, the other deep between her labia. Their bodies entwined around each other, after that explosive and feverish reconnection fuck, as they both subside.

This is how it begins.

*********************************

Entering the apartment has been the usual story. As they journeyed there, it has been the usual proper and decorous behaviour; very above board, aside from the occasional hand-squeeze or hidden fondle.

As soon as the door closes behind them, however, the atmosphere takes a turn for the seriously perverted.

Initially, his signature move: slamming her into the kitchen table and kissing, kissing, kissing; feeling her body react to his through her clothes; the heat of her cunt seeping through to the palm of his hand; the arousal in her nipples obvious by their diamond-like hardness.

Breathless and reeling, their lips eventually parting as their eyes meet, and telepathy takes over. Wordlessly, she removes her shirt, and stands before him; brazenly toying with the clasp on her bra; teasing him with her eyes; baiting him.

He grabs her face and kisses her again, as his hands roughly extricates one breast from her still fastened bra, and slaps it hard, before squeezing her nipple. She moans, and he slaps her again.

Her eyes still meet his, not wavering for a second. Challenging him.

He tenderly caresses her hair, before grasping the back of her head and forcing her down onto his cock. She opens her mouth eagerly to swallow as much of his long thick shaft as she can, gagging a little, but not allowing it to deter her.

“That’s my good little slut. Take it in, take it all in. Yes…..”

Unable to raise her head, she lies across his knees, causing the chair to wheel backwards slightly. He relaxes his hold on her, and moves his hands from their hold on her head, only to pull her toward the bed.

She doesn’t resist.

Once supine and adjacent, the kissing begins again, yet somehow even more passionate than before. The urgency has increased, the tempo has quickened, and the fever burns even brighter between them.

She tugs his shirt off him, aching to trace the beautifully sculpted muscles in his torso. Her fingertips find his pierced nipple and toy with it gently before suddenly pinching and twisting it tightly, to his obvious delight.

She’s never been a particularly consistent sub. Too damn feisty. He likes that, in an odd sort of way.

He abruptly ends this foray into switching by ripping her jeans and panties down to her knees and parting her cunt with his hand.

“God-DAMN but you’re wet. And you know I’m going to make you wetter.”

She sighs her acquiescence as he kicks her remaining clothing off, and slides three fingers straight into her.

“You want my fist in you, dirty girl?”

“Mmmm. Oh god yes, yes, yes.”

Another finger. Then the thumb. Her insides contract and shift to make room for him, and he starts to fist fuck her hard. She shudders and jolts with the intense rhythm, feeling her g-spot become her epicentre. As she nears her first orgasm, she cries out; the second apex overtakes her almost instantaneously, and the third almost as quick, pushes her yet further into bliss.

She knows that it can hit higher and deeper within her, and she abandons herself to his insistent fist inside her. She holds the building orgasmic gush within her until she finally releases it, soaking him, the sheets, and herself as she wails uncontrollably with ecstasy.

Yes, this is how it begins. Imagine how it continues.

He raised an eyebrow at me over the carafe of water placed between us on the table. As I lifted a forkful of deliciously rare steak to my lips, he asked me:

“Did you enjoy yourself this afternoon? You were wet; god, so wet. Gushing. Like… wow. Unbelievable.”

The casually tossed out sentence spiraled me back in time approximately four hours. In my mind’s eye, I was detached from myself; floating above where I’d lain on the bed. Well, when I say lain, I mean positioned on all fours. Cuffed. Bound. Blindfolded.

My wrists were shackled by two sweet, minx-fur handcuffs, crossed and positioned over my head, so that i veered between balancing on my elbows and forearms, and occasionally adding my blindfolded forehead to the mix. The covering for my eyes was a rather elegant scarf made of silk jersey that I’d worn last for my sister’s wedding. I loved the irony of how elegant an item could also function so well in such depraved circumstances. My ankles were tied with rope, crossed firmly in place to ensure that my ass and cunt were on full display to him, and that he could do anything he wanted to or with me.

Ah, sweet submission.

In my cunt buzzed a rabbit vibe. The ears were hit-and-missing my clit, but to be honest, i was so overwhelmed by sensations that this was the least of my concerns. Occasionally he’d push it further inside me, from where it had involuntarily escaped due to slickness and enthusiastic vibrations.

In my ass — well, there was no stability of routine to what was going on with my ass. Between his fingers, another vibrating dildo and his cock, my ass was fair game for pretty much anything that afternoon.

*******************

He’d begun this adventure by blindfolding me as I lay supine and expectant. I was sad to no longer see the evil look in his eye as he thought of tasks and punishments to delight and arouse me, but i acquiesced, like a good sub.

I’m learning. And this learning curve is way more fun than any such curve I was on in school.

He’d tapped my face with a finger, and commanded me to suck his taut upstanding cock. I’d reached out a hand to find it, and bring my mouth closer, when i suddenly felt a massive blow to my left buttock.

Thwack!

“Did I tell you that you could use your hands?”

I shook my sightless head mutely.

“Understand, Juno. Only your tongue. I want you to learn the layout of my body with your tongue. If you use your hands again, your next punishment will be more extreme.”

It was a shame that he couldn’t see my eyes glitter with excitement behind the silk jersey. I think he noticed my excited shivers though, as he seemed pleased with my quietly nodded response.

I felt his cock come close to my face, grazing my cheeks and nose. I reached out my tongue, to catch it, taste it, wrap it in my soft warmth — and then felt it move away abruptly.

Thwack! Another spank, this time on my other buttock.

“Your blow jobs are terrible today, Juno. I don’t know what’s wrong with you.”

In my heart of hearts I could sense him biting back ferocious giggles. I wasn’t sure I could hear any withheld laughter in his voice, but I knew he was laughing. He knew what he was doing, he knew that under no circumstances could anyone achieve anything even vaguely resembling the most rudimentary form of blow job with the time allowed for contact between cock and tongue. He also knew that I knew how much he loved the way in which I performed fellatio on him. This was his game, his way of teasing and delighting me.

“Get on all fours, ” he directed, pushing me onto my side in order to give me a fighting chance at getting into position relatively unaided.

And then began the games with my ass.

He began by starting to slide an unlubed finger into me — and immediately I forgot the game, forgot the rules, and cried out for mercy.

“Please, baby, please. Use the lube… i know I’m not supposed to speak, I know you’ll spank me for this… I don’t care. Use the lube. Please. Have mercy!”

He made no comment to my outburst, but paused, and I could hear lube-squirting-onto-finger noises. I knew he’d heard my plea as it had been intended — one from the heart. I thanked heaven silently that he was a compassionate person, and that since I’d been the first person to ever finger-fuck his ass (an event that had taken place only that morning) and had made a point of using lube when I did, he’d know that I wasn’t being cheeky in an attempt to have my ass paddled.

His finger slid into my ass, and I gasped as it was withdrawn and then replaced with an almost-identical companion digit.

“That’s good, baby… yes?”

I nodded.

“Does it feel good when I combine it with this?” he asked.

Suddenly my cunt was filled with 8.5″ of rabbit vibrator. The fingers continued to move in and out of me. I was floating in bliss, experiencing mini-orgasms in rapid succession. The fingers were once again withdrawn, and this time replaced with a (well-lubricated) plain vibrator.

Dual penetration. And buzzing vibrations with it. I was nearing complete ecstasy. I cried out in blissed-out joy, which was what he’d been waiting for.

Thwack! Whack! Smack! His hand landed a series of blows on my buttocks.

“Who said you could speak, slut?”

I bowed my head penitently.

He leaned over until I could feel his lips against my ear, and his breath on my cheek. “Now I’m going to punish you,” he murmured meaningfully. My mind raced as to what my punishment might entail. I knew what I hoped it would be.

Slowly and deliberately, he removed the plain vibrator from my ass, and pushed the rabbit further into my cunt from where it had strayed. He paused to sweep his hand beneath the rabbit to collect some of my previously gushed juice, and added a judicious dollop of lube, smearing the mixture up and down his shaft. I couldn’t see this, but I knew it was what he was doing by the action that followed. And it was exactly what I’d hoped.

I felt his cock nudging at my anus. Idly I wondered whether the dildo that had been in it previously would have had any kind of stretching effect. And then, as the initial pain hit and I wondered afresh why i ever allowed men anywhere near my poor little ass if this was the effect (immediately prior to the mumbling blissful feelings that followed during which I mercifully forgot and blocked out all thought of the agony), i realized that no great stretching had been effected.

But then, as it always does, the pain receded and the pleasure began. For a Dom who was fucking my ass but good, he was surprisingly gentle and smooth, and i allowed myself a whimper or two of ecstatic bliss. The vibrator buzzing within me combined with the ass-fucking sensations brought me closer and closer to orgasm until it suddenly hit, and i gasped as the vibe flew onto the bed, when my cunt shuddered from within and forced it out.

As I subsided into a quivering heap of happiness and post-orgasmic satisfaction, he removed my blindfold, and my shackles, thereby ending the Dom/sub session. It was just me and him again.

“Did you come?” I whispered, all but spent from the hours of fucking.

“I came in your ass,” he grinned. “I’ve wanted to do that since I met you.”

And playfully spanked me once more on my ass… for luck.

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