Delaying sex to make her more horny

As I mentioned in a previous post, I’d hoped to get Richard drunk on daquiris and seduce him Tuesday night. To no avail. A few minutes after posting my wicked plans, I passed out face down on the couch. Honestly, he must have slipped something into my drink because no way do I get drunk that easily. Or maybe the long day had weakened my tolerance…

I woke up to the dog barking. Richard came over because I was so confused and gently helped me up. I couldn’t figure out what time or day it was. He finally managed to get me upstairs, where I proceeded to fall face first on the bed.

He took off my clothes and tucked me into bed.

I woke up in the morning feeling fine. We sleep in spoons, with my ass in his lap and his arms around me, holding my wrists in his hands. I wiggled around and snuggled up under his arm. He pulled me closer.

I started kissing his neck and nibbling on his chest and shoulders. He squeezed me tighter but didn’t open his eyes.

bdsmcouple-bdsmclub

I rubbed my chest against his. This usually works to wake him up. Today he just caressed me lightly for a moment then fell back asleep.

I flipped over and wiggled my ass against his belly. That woke him up.

“What are you doing, little girl?” he said groggily.

I giggled. He grabbed me by the hip and pulled me closer. I ground into him.

He groaned and buried his face in my hair. I could feel him nuzzling the back of my neck. His hand reached around to my breasts. He caressed them gently then began playing with my nipples.

But after a couple of minutes he fell back asleep!

This was challenging. I really needed him to fuck me. After a couple of minutes of fruitlessly rubbing and wiggling and snuggling, I knew that I had to do something more.

“Would you please spank me?”

“What?”

“Please spank me Richard. I really need a spanking.”

“Really? You WANT a spanking?”

“Yes please.”

He was wide awake.

“Roll over.”

“Yes sir.”

I rolled over. Then I got nervous.

“I don’t need a HARD spanking. Just a LITTLE spanking is fine.”

“Oh really.”

He began smacking my bottom, moving from side to side.

“Oh! Yes, just a little. Oh!”

“You want to decide how much spanking you get?”

He smacked a bit harder, and then he stayed in one place for a few smacks. That hurts worse.

I didn’t want to answer that question. Yes, of course I want to decide. But if I say that, will I get in more trouble? Probably. I kept quiet. Well, except for the inadvertent squeaks when he smacked me particularly hard.

But then he stopped and rolled me over and looked into my eyes.

“I like spanking you.”

“Yes.” (I know that, that’s why I asked him to spank me. I was hoping it would get me laid.)

He reached out, took my hand and placed it on his cock. His hard cock.

“I really like spanking you.”

“Ooooohhhh.”

And then, before I had time to think, he flipped me back onto my belly, hauled my ass into the air and slammed his cock into me. And it just got better from there.

So I did seduce him, eventually. No thanks to the daquiris.

Ownership, sharing and monogamy

Richard has discussed in an earlier post his interest in MMF threesomes, and his decision NOT to pursue them in our relationship. His decision was based on my very clear, very loud concerns about them (basically having to do with the potential physical and emotional dangers of bringing another man into the relationship), which led him to feel that it would be psychologically harmful to me to pursue them.

Mia, who posts here sometimes and has a great blog “What We Did Last Night”, posted about a MMF threesome she had recently. I loved her post and it helped me to understand what Richard meant when he talked about what turned him on about them: the woman’s over-stimulation and loss of self-control.

And for him, it is the ultimate sign of ownership, to share what is yours with another.
Amy – owned by Richard
I have always been monogamous. I think maybe I fall in love with anyone I fuck. I actually read something recently that supported that idea; oxytocin levels rise after fucking, oxytocin is a “bonding” hormone (grossly oversimplified), I figure I probably have the world’s highest naturally occurring levels of oxytocin. I am so completely focused on Richard that it is hard to imagine being attracted to another man, much less fucking him! And fucking him while Richard watches! Or joins in! Ack!

However, I’ve been thinking about threesomes a lot lately, because I know how erotic Richard finds them. I think maybe they are his biggest turn-on. I wonder if maybe I feel secure enough in our relationship to try this. It scares me, but maybe being scared can be part of the eroticism, like it is with being blindfolded or handcuffed. I really don’t know.

Richard says that every fantasy he has acted out/lived has turned out much better than he expected. I’ve always felt that fantasies are just that, and don’t need to be lived to be enjoyed. But now I’m living a life that I didn’t even know enough to fantasize about, and it’s WONDERFUL. So maybe this would be the same.

After we had been talking online for about a month, Richard sent me the following short-short story. (I had to dig and dig through my email to find it. I LOVE reading our old emails. The yearning!) I found the story very hot, but didn’t seriously consider it as something that could or would ever happen. I still find it hot…

Answering Richard’s call, Amy entered the room.

A man she didn’t recognize stood talking to Richard.

“Stand here,” Richard said. Then to the man, “show me what you meant.”

Amy, barefoot in a delicate t-shirt and sarong, waited as the stranger deftly untied the sarong, letting it drop to the floor.

Naked from the waist down, Amy stood shyly as the man used her lower body to illustrate some complex tattoo he had once seen, turning Amy around once to show exactly how it had risen over someone’s buttocks.

The demonstration over, Amy waited quietly.

“Beautiful woman,” said the man, almost as an afterthought.

“Yes she is,” answered Richard. “Listen, why don’t you stay for dinner?” With a nod indicating Amy, “We can sit up later with whiskey, and take turns fucking her by the fire.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

Richard turned to Amy.

“One more for dinner.”

Trying to get him drunk

Shhhh. I’m trying to get Richard drunk.

We’ve been way too busy. And then we went out into the desert which was wonderful BUT I didn’t get the hot tent sex I was hoping for.

Why? Because it was Memorial Day weekend. Doh. We could hear when the neighboring campers zipped open their tent, for goodness sake.

You may be thinking here “But wait. Wasn’t she posing for nekkid pics out there?” Well yes. The campsites were completely full, but nobody seemed to go more than about 10 meters from their site. So that was not a problem.

And by the way. Richard had shown me a lovely picture, a panorama of the desert with, far in the distance, a woman perched on a rock. Me. Naked, yes, if you looked hard enough. But blending in to the natural surroundings, much like the lizard he posted below. That’s what I thought he was going to share with you.

But nooooooo. I open up the blog to see what everyone has said about the desert trip (I’m becoming very attached to y’all) and I get a FACEFUL of Amy. I’m glad people liked it, but I’ll admit it was a bit of a shock.

Anyway. I’ve made a blenderful of strawberry daquiris. I’m plying him with them. Richard didn’t drink until his thirties, whereas I come from Germanic stock and so have been drinking since I was knee high to a grasshopper (as they say in Holland) (not really).

So I’m thinking that I will be able to get him drunk and take advantage of him. Maybe even tie him up? Who knows what can happen when you get a domly type tipsy (say THAT three times fast)?

I’m a teensy bit worried that he may have alternative plans however. I just noticed that his glass is quite a bit fuller than mine. Hmmmm. I’m going to log off now and refresh his drink. Wish me luck!

Going to camping … and fucking in the wild

We are leaving first thing in the morning to go camping! Wheee!

I’ve been focusing on loading our gear, planning menus and getting the house ready for us to be gone. Watering plants, setting the thermostat, etc. Plus it has to be clean because if we’re in a car accident and someone has to come into the house to get stuff for us, it has to be clean, right? Otherwise it’s like if you wear dirty underwear and you’re in an accident and they bring you to emergency and the doctors and nurses see your dirty underwear. Ew. The stress alone could kill you.

I’m excited to show Richard this part of the desert that he’s never seen. I’m excited to be in a tent with him for the first time. I’m excited to be alone with him away from cell phones and laptop computers, where nobody from the office can find me.

We’re doing something in the desert that I’m not excited about though. Or I guess I’m excited, but much more nervous than excited. We’re going to do a photoshoot in the desert. So I’m going to be out in the open, naked as a jaybird, posing for Richard.

I love posing for Richard. He makes me feel very beautiful when he’s photographing me; he’s always very complimentary and appreciative. And I can tell when he’s really gotten something good from the look on his face and his tone of voice.

bdsmcouple-amy-barn

He’s quite a perfectionist about his photography, so a session can go on for a long time. One time I just wanted one teeny little picture in my bride panties and ohmygosh you’d think I asked for a portrait of the Pope. Every angle, every room of the house, every light level you can think of. (Before I get into trouble, I will admit that this is a bit of an exaggeration. He probably photographed me for around thirty minutes. Still.)

Photographing me puts me into a bit of a submissive trance. He tells me what to do and how to move, or he simply moves me (or parts of me) himself. He’s very calm and quiet, and I get very quiet (a rare event) and passive. I’m sometimes surprised that an hour or more has gone by, and I’ll notice that I’m a bit achy from holding an awkward pose for an extended period.

Afterwards, when he’s downloading the pictures onto the laptop and sorting through them, I’ll curl up at his feet and lean against his leg. He’ll put the laptop down at my level when he wants to show me a picture he’s happy with or ask my opinion about one (he never posts anything that I feel is unattractive or that worries me in any way).

It’s too bad we can’t show our faces. I just looked across the couch at him working on his laptop and he is the most gorgeous creature! Sorry, off topic there.

I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend. Maybe I’ll come back from the desert a confirmed exhibitionist.

And maybe pigs will fly.

At least I know I’ll be having hot sex in a tent for the first time in my life!

OK, back to packing.

Star Trek and BDSM

Did I getcha with the title? No, I’m not talking about James Kirk as submissive male.

Several years ago I saw an episode of Star Trek, Next Generation that stuck in my mind. At the time, I didn’t realize why it had such an impact on me, but after I discovered BDSM and in particular D/s I understood. We had a scorching hot discussion after I first told Richard about it, on IM. I think it helped him understand me better, in those pre-meeting days. I remember not being able to sleep that night because I was so turned on. Recently I Netflixed it so that I could show him. It’s not sexy per se, but the implications of it are very sexy to me.

The episode is titled “The Perfect Mate”. Briefly, the Enterprise is hosting a meeting of rapprochement between two worlds. The ambassador from one world, who is picked up first, brings a precious gift for Alrik, the leader of the other world: a woman. Kamala is an empathic metamorph; a very rare mutant who has the ability to sense what men desire and mold herself to their wishes and interests. Empathic metamorphs imprint on and become the ideal mate of one man.

On the way to pick up Alrik, Kamala is accidentally brought out of stasis (blasted Ferengi!). This moves forward her development so that she is in a stage in which she is sending off strong sexual signals to all men. After a few incidents, she decides to remain in her quarters. Jean-Luc, tough guy that he is, tries to stay away from her although he is fascinated by her as well. However, they are thrown together to work on the ceremony of reconciliation and the attraction is intense. She’s smart, strong and intuitive – everything he finds most attractive in a woman (naturally).

Jean-Luc manages to keep her at arm’s length, but only just, and they pick up Alrik. When Jean-Luc goes to Kamala’s room to bring her to the wedding ceremony, she tells him that she has completed her development prematurely and has imprinted on him, rather than on Alrik. However, her strong sense of duty (in part due to her upbringing, but also due to becoming Jean-Luc’s ideal woman) means that she will marry Alrik, to maintain peace between the worlds. She will not reveal to anyone that she has already imprinted, and points out that she is still empathic, so she will still be able to make him happy.

The worst part: Jean-Luc has met Alrik, who is a homely, superficial twit unworthy of Kamala. Nevertheless, he acts as best man at the wedding and hands over his perfect mate to a lesser man.

*sob*

When Richard and I first began to spend time together online, we were flirtatious but also pretty cool. We were trying to be cautious. So we talked about kink more intellectually than emotionally and we talked about a lot of other things too (as we continue to do). However, Richard gradually moved to claim me and to exert control over me, and our relationship became closer to what it is now.

During one IM, I said “I am for you, Richard” and he asked what I meant. I hadn’t thought of it when I said it, but I remembered that this was what Kamala said when she came out of stasis, thinking that Jean-Luc was Alrik: “I am for you Alrik”. That was eye-opening. As we discussed it, I began to understand what it was I wanted in a relationship and what I wanted to be.

I want to be owned. By one man.

I want to be completely his.

I want to be what he wants me to be, in all ways.

I want that man to be worthy of me, and to bring out the best in me.

I want to be cherished for this, to be seen as a rare and precious gift.

And I am.

How to make her cum really hard

I want to quote part of a comment we received on the “How I became a dominant  man” post.

“I hope that you share some details of how the conversation goes, I find what you both share to be intelligent, caring and informative… This is such a real-life relationship and we appreciate your opening yourselves up the way you both do.”
Jdslove

Amy didn’t like the idea of being disposable.

She thinks it is hot.

She doesn’t like it.

Fair enough.

We talked.

I tried to explain the feeling, the idea that I could afford to not take an opportunity to fuck her, for example, because I own her, and I have all the opportunities I could possibly want to fuck her.

She began to compare it to a woman in a singles bar, who doesn’t need to take every offer for sex, because she can have sex whenever she wants. Amy said when she goes to a bar, the last thing she thinks about is getting sex. Which of course the one thing many guys are totally focused on when they go to a bar (or anywhere).

So she began to understand the idea of passing up sex, because you can have it anytime you want.

But she doesn’t want to be taken for granted.

And she talked about being insecure.

We laughed a bit about this.

What does she need to be secure? We just got married, we are working on having a baby…we talked about a host of things that she could think about to make herself feel secure.

Now, Amy is a logical woman. She knows all this. But emotionally?

I think we lost some little bit of connection this past two weeks with some heavy workloads and family cares. Plus the vasectomy reversal surgery sent our sex life and physical connection into an unusual sort of limbo. And when you lose that connection, the first place it shows up is in insecurity. I doubt it would have shown up as insecurity at all, if not for events in our respective pasts.

We have discussed the ways in which we could have held more easily to our connection. I will be firmer with my direction of Amy when telling her what I want. I tend to be too polite, which can fog my true desires. I haven’t been physically aggressive with her as well – hey I’ve got stitches on my balls! I think we both need the rough play, we are used to it with each other, and when it was suddenly cut out we weren’t prepared for the loss of emotional intensity it engendered.

Insecurity comes and goes. We have been together a short time, physically. Three months. Longer online, but physically together, it’s been a short time and we are still learning about each other, and understanding our needs.

I understand Amy’s better now.

She understands mine better.

The only thing I didn’t like about her post was the “Meet the new Boss – same as the old Boss,” theme.

I’m not like her old Boss. I’m not like anyone she’s ever known. It pissed me off to read it, but I know she knows better.

Insecure or secure, happy or unhappy; I own her ass. And every other fucking inch of her.

Whatever problems we have, we settle between us. We talk. We face it. No retreat.

Nobody’s going anywhere.

No apologies either. I don’t want her feeling bad about being emotional.

I’m fucking emotional.

Amy has to be as utterly Amy as possible. I want to know what she loves, what she hates, what she she hungers for, what makes her shudder. It doesn’t matter a fuck if I don’t like what I hear. I want the real Amy.

I want to love the parts that even Amy doesn’t love about herself.

We’ll continue to deal with insecurity, and whatever else we uncover. I’ll continue to use her, throw her on the bed, fuck her, make her cum, or not let her cum, hurt her, pleasure her, all the things I like doing to her. Including treating her like a disposable fuck.

It’s who I am.

One year in BDSM

Richard pointed out to me that our play or interactions in which he ignores me or uses and discards me may be “edge play” for me, given my past bad experiences of being neglected and taken for granted in relationships. Edge play, for the non-kinky people out there, is play that skirts dangerous ground, either physically or emotionally. So, for example, knife or needle play is considered edge play by most, although one person’s edge play is another’s yawnsville of course.

I think a part of me was hoping, once he pointed this out, that he would say “So I think it best that we no longer do that sort of thing.” But he didn’t.

And that got me thinking.

I started exploring BDSM online less than a year ago. Up until the time that Richard and I first met in real life, part of me thought that D/s would always only be a part of my fantasies, NOT my real life. If it became part of my life, as I’ve said before, I thought it would be in the bedroom as sexual play, not permeating my entire life. Not 24/7. Not Master/slave.

This year (24/7 D/s M/s) has been incredible. So erotic, so exciting, so thrilling. At the same time, life with Richard is so…easy. We get along so well, we’re so compatible. It’s a luscious combination of new relationship excitement and old relationship comfort.

I’m so spoilt! For the first time in my life, I’ve had as much attention and snuggling and affection and nurturing and fussing over as I could wish for. I’ve also been spanked more and slapped more and bitten and pinched more than ever in my life.

And ordered around! Constantly! But, hey, that’s still attention. And it appears that all attention is good attention for Amy.

I’m taking a long time to get to my point. Sorry.

Richard’s post “Disposable Girl” and the following discussion made me realize that (wait for it): it’s not all about me.

Not that I mostly think that, but at some level I have been loving all the attention and feeling very special and precious and adored and not facing the fact that: I am a slave and it’s not about me.

This is real. This is not role play. This is not acting out fantasies. I entered into a relationship in which one of the critical agreements is that I give up all control to Richard. All control.

Sure, I can always change my mind. But that would be monumental. Telling Richard I no longer wished to submit to him would be comparable to saying that I realized I am a lesbian. It would be more than becoming sexually incompatible, because this is about more than sex. This is about intimacy and this is also about how we “run” our lives.

You might say “Yes, but you don’t have to say you don’t want to submit *at all*. You could just say you didn’t want to submit to a particular thing.”

That would be the same thing. I agreed to submit to him completely. I can’t say “I submit to you completely…except for X”. That’s not submitting.

So. I don’t get to say “I don’t want to play *disposable girl*” anymore than I get to say “I don’t want to play *nasty-pinchy-clothespin-thingies*”. (Richard would be quick to point out that of course I can say that, it just won’t have any effect on what he chooses to do.)

Bottom line: I am still learning the reality of being a slave. I am still coming to terms with having handed over all power to Richard. It feels wonderful to have done, I trust him completely, I don’t regret it, but I’m still adjusting to it. Stay tuned.

Owning your girl with more cum

What I did was…get up and get dressed and go downstairs and have coffee and get on with my day.

I have some ambivalent feelings about what Richard posted last, and I thought the best way to become more clear would be to write about it. We’ll see if Richard agrees; if this post disappears it’s because he doesn’t lol.

So. On the surface, his post is very hot to me. And being used is hot to me. I love it when Richard takes what he wants, ignoring my protests and pleading.

In fact, I think part of the reason our sexual relationship is so satisfying to me is that I KNOW Richard won’t do anything he doesn’t want to do. Which allows me to relax and enjoy myself; with past partners I was always so concerned that they weren’t doing what they wanted or that they weren’t happy that I couldn’t relax and have fun.

Also, Richard likes to do things that make me feel good. This morning he was playing with me, licking and sucking and teasing for probably an hour. When I came, I thought my head would explode (thankfully, not a migraine this time, just pure bliss).

And he doesn’t just do things for me sexually. Right now he is downstairs making dinner. He sent me up to take a nap because he could tell I was feeling a little tired. He’ll come get me when it’s ready, probably with a glass of wine for me in his hand.

So why am I feeling ambivalent about the last post? Well, I’ve spent most of my adult life in relationships in which I was taken for granted and more or less ignored. This comes a bit close to that for comfort. I don’t ever want to feel taken for granted again. Nevernevernevernevernever.

Richard doesn’t make me feel ignored or taken for granted, so I know this is just me being over-sensitive. But how do I deal with that?

As we’ve discussed in previous posts, it’s also been a crazy busy couple of weeks and we’ve had a lot less sex than we’re used to, because of Richard’s surgery. So I think I’m already feeling a tiny bit distant from Richard, a bit less connected, a bit less owned. Maybe I wouldn’t even have blinked at his post a few weeks ago. I don’t know.

In a way, it reminds me of how I felt when he posted about possibly exploring orgasm denial further. Ugh. I felt like “Wow. Orgasm denial. Gee, I’ve experienced that with partners for many a year.”

You know that saying “Welcome to the new boss. Just like the old boss.” ? That’s what I was thinking.

We talked about it and I think he understood how I was feeling. Hopefully he’ll understand how I feel about this. Maybe I just need a little petting and assuring. Sigh.

Her body is mine

Amy’s body is no longer hers.

I woke her one night, and played with her nipples as she struggled to understand what was happening to her. She wanted to sleep. I wanted to make her cum.

She came.

For now, I have chosen to control when she pees, when she masturbates, when she cums. I enjoy the luxury of owning her body, and using her for what I want. Sometimes I want to fuck her, to explore the sensuality of her body, and sometimes I like hurting her, feeling her whimper and moan under a much harsher touch.

And sometimes I just throw her away.

I started playing with her in the morning, stroking her and slowly arousing her. Time, however, was not in her favor. I had Amy whimpering and struggling as I held her wrists with one hand and played with her breasts with the other. I made her masturbate, and watched, but there were other things I wanted to do.

I got up and told her to keep masturbating.

She did so.

I moved about the room, getting ready, getting dressed, as Amy masturbated quietly and intensely without my attention. An occasional glance over showed her obediently playing with herself, although I no longer cared to watch. I was done with her.

Fully dressed and ready to leave, I laid a hand on her cheek. Men fantasize about walking in on a woman like Amy masturbating. The way she is right now. Aroused. Excited. Ready to fuck.

“I’m leaving. You can masturbate until you cum, or I will make you cum later tonight. Your choice.”

Then I closed the door on her, and left.