He licked me as though he were a sun-blind desert nomad and I an ice sculpture of his most longed-for mirage. No tip-of-the-tongue delicacy, no butterfly-soft tease; he gave me the full weight of his tongue from the cleft of my buttocks to the nape of my neck as I moaned and my legs opened in involuntary expression of my arousal.
Edging myself is not something I do deliberately very often. I’m terrible at self-denial (and not just when it comes to orgasms; I’ll eat chocolate until I feel sick and smoke until my lungs hurt because – well, why on earth would I stop?!)
Today, I desperately want to be dominated. I thought I was just horny but even after a wank featuring a beaded glass dildo and much fantasising about rough gangs and rope, I still feel a deep yearning inside me which I know from experience can only be fulfilled by willing obedience to the will of another. To have the burden of decision-making – even for something as banal as ‘shall I have a cup of tea now?’ not just lifted from my shoulders but held high over my bowed head, is something my whole body and mind cry out for right now.
It’s been three days since I ordered the gadget and this morning the maildrone dropped it on my doorstep. I’m supposed to be working but I reckon I can legitimately take a quick break to have a peek at the device the Internet has gone crazy for.
“The BeTogether brings revolutionary thought-connection technology to life!” cooed the adverts “Be closer than you’ve ever dreamed!”
Tell me you want me. Tell me how you want me, and when, and where. Make it graphic, filthy, commanding – (and if you’re telling me in writing, please use apostrophes and correct verb conjugation).
More than pictures, more than sound, I love to read filth. I especially love to read well-written filth. Most of all, I adore well-written filth that’s directed specifically at me.
TW: some of these fantasies involve totally make-believe scenarios of non-consensual sex. Consent is definitely and always necessary IRL, but inside my head I am safe to explore darker themes without damage. If the idea makes you uncomfortable or distressed then this blog post is not for you, please don’t read on. Always take care of yourselves and each other.
What do you think about when you’re having a wank? Someone asked me this a long time ago and my response was erm; fucking, duh….isn’t that what everyone thinks about?
In the house of my psyche, she resides below ground level. Down in the deepest cellar, in her soft-furnished boudoir she sprawls across a four-poster bed, naked and tousle-haired and ready for mischief. Across her skin are scrawled the scars of a hundred lessons imperfectly-learned; crossed-out names and instructions ignored. She’ll flaunt them with insouciance, they are a challenge and a come-on. “Can’t catch me” they mock silently; and “is that all you’ve got?”.
After reading Jadis Liddell’s inspiring post about cock-sucking skills, my mind started working in a kinky direction (no change there then) and I envisioned cock-sucking lessons with a stern Mistress. Obviously, at that point I had to kick off my knickers and grab a big flexible silicone dildo to properly explore the scenario in my mind. After two – one leisurely and one frenzied – orgasms, I’d honed the scene to my liking. This is the result.
I’m a terrible show-off and teacher’s pet. I just have to be top of the class, otherwise I feel….cheated. Sitting here with my fellow-students at these desks, I can feel that familiar driving need to excel, setting my jaw and squaring my shoulders. We are not here to learn History or Maths or Physics. We are here to hone our oral skills. And I’m not talking about a debating club.