Talking about your BDSM lifestyle with others

I’m pretty comfortable with the various toys and implements around bdsm. I’ve been involved in play and as a photographer for a while, and the sight of bondage cuffs, a whip or a riding crop are fairly standard for me. Plus, I’ve been out about my involvement in it for a long time, so I’m fairly casual about these things.

Not so for Amy.

A newcomer to bdsm related activities, it’s only been in the last year that she has discovered a personal interest, and has no experience in dungeon settings, for example, and still feels quite shy about her own involvement. And yet she’s got to be one of the boldest, bravest women I know in almost anything else. It’s like she’s got this one, and only one, shy spot.

On the way to our first meeting, I picked up a few things to play with. Nothing too shocking, wrist cuffs, riding crop, nipple clamps – all quite simple and standard play items,

On the first morning, Amy discovered them on the desk, and very sweetly tidied up the room and moved them to a drawer, so that the cleaning staff wouldn’t discover them when they came and made up the room.

I noticed that the thought of the cleaning staff finding these items disturbed her, although it would never have occurred to me to put them out of sight. I mean, it’s the cleaning staff, they’ve seen everything already, I’m sure, and who really cares if the cleaning staff sees your stuff? It’s not like they are going to call your parents and rat on you.

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Amy on the bed

I got the stuff out late one night, the night of the photo shoot, and the evening stretched, as they all did, far into the night.

The next morning, we headed out for breakfast, without giving much thought to the disarray in the room. After breakfast, we went back to the room to pick up the camera, ad the cleaning lady, who we had talked to previously a few times, was in there vacuuming. As Amy waited in the hall, cheerily greeting the cleaning lady, I gathered up the camera and talked to the cleaning lady briefly as well.

We returned a half hour later, and Amy slipped into the bathroom, while I wandered into the room. I noticed the box the Astroglide came in empty on the table, and thought that was an interesting thing for the cleaning lady to have encountered. Then a thought struck me, and I looked about the room.

Ah.

The Astroglide itself sat on one bedside table, on the other the nipple clamps, and on the floor the bed a 30-foot rope lay half untied. The riding crop laid along side the wardrobe. It occurred to me that this situation might be distressing to Amy.

The bathroom door opened, and I remarked to her that the condition of the room was rather unusual. Amy stood for a moment just inside the door, trying to understand me, then suddenly, without looking into the room, her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped.

With a shriek she ran back into the bathroom, and hide betweenthe door and the wall, “No no no no no no no,” she wailed, her hands over her face.

Well.

I had judged correctly, the situation was indeed distressing to Amy. I found her behind the door, and comforted her the best I could while trying so hard not to laugh. For the next few minutes I heard nothing but horrified sounds from her, mixed with shocked laughter and disbelief that such a horrible, horrible thing had happened.

 

Finally, she collected herself enough to finally leave the bathroom, and go back out into the room. Upon seeing the offending articles, she threw herself onto the bed and buried her face in her hands, keening quietly about the unfairness of life.

Being the helpful kind of guy that I am, I began painting out loud the actual scenario under which the cleaning lady had seen the items, and what she had thought as she had discovered them. Oddly enough, this just brought on more horrified exclamations, mixed with anguished laughter.

Amy remembered that we had walked in on the poor cleaning lady, blocking her terrified flight from the room, as I helpfully pointed out. “And who knows, even now, what she is telling the people at the head desk, and other workers?” Apparently not a calming thought.

Eventually, she calmed down, seeming to think that maybe the cleaning lady hadn’t known what the nipple clamps were, and a rope could be anything, and the riding crop was lying by the wardrobe, not in a place where she would vacuum. At least, she hadn’t seen the wrist cuffs, because those left no doubt as to their purpose.

I noticed a towel lying on the floor, and wondered why our usually fastidious cleaning lady had not picked up this one, stray towel. What possible reason could there be for leaving this towel in the room alongside the bed? I picked it up myself, and shared the good news with Amy. No doubt, the cleaning lady had indeed picked up the towel, and then replaced it.

Hidden underneath were the wrist restraints.

Sex life after a reverse vasectomy

My surgery had pretty much healed, it’s a vasectomy reversal so things have been pretty sensitive down there for a bit.

And hence, no penetrative sex.

Plus we have to be careful not to do anything that would damage the newly conjoined vas deferens, as well. Vasa deferentia, to be precise.

The surgeon said that scarring could eventually close off a successful reversal, so not to hold back on attempting to make Amy pregnant once the healing has completed.

So.

Amy has some stuff for timing her ovulation, and the like. I’m figuring that’s nice, but unnecessary. I’m planning to keep her ovaries bathed in sperm, 24.7.

Which leads us to the fuck Amy describes in her last post.

I’m playing with her nipples, and Amy is wriggling and moaning as I touch her. She’s probably figuring on no release, or maybe I’ll make her masturbate and cum, but that’s all.

I tell her to straddle me.

She protests briefly, to of course no avail.

She settles down on my cock, sighing, her eyes half closed.

I hold her hips, pulling her down solidly on my cock.

I start her moving, making her fuck me, making her do the work as I guide her movements with my hands. We slowly pick up the pace, making sure I’m feeling ok and intact. Amy is, well, transcendently ecstatic. I am myself, to a degree, but I’m a man with a mission here.

A whole week berefit of my cock has left Amy with very little resistance, and she begins to become very seriously involved in our fuck. She talks to me, or at least I think she does, but the words make no sense, except for an occasional “no!” I think I hear her say something, but when I ask, she looks at me with unfocused eyes, confused.

I let the moment go by, preoccupied myself now with fucking her, thrusting up into her from below, while shaping and controlling her body by hand pressure. The slightest change in her position changes how my cock feels inside her, and I reshape her every time I start to get too used to one sensation.

By now Amy is lost. She coos, and moans and sighs, her pelvis moving in excited rhythm. I continue to tweak her nipples, and suck her breasts, until she wriggles down in close to me, and starts to bite my shoulder, and beg for me to fuck her.

I’m using her now, I don’t give a fuck what she is feeling as she writhes and scratches and bites me. I block her out of my mind, as my hands hold her ass, her ribcage, her hips, constantly changing the angle of the thrust into her pussy. She’s clearly excited, and while I might like to connect with her when she is this aroused normally, I ignore whatever she is doing with her hands and mouth, and keep my cock working into her. I mold her body into a final position, I don’t even know if she can notice anymore, but for me right now she is no longer Amy, she is simply cunt, cunt that is warm and excited and vulnerable – open to whatever I choose to do to her. I haven’t cum in a week and didn’t expect to today.

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I cum.

Pushing up into cunt from below, I cum, as cunt makes some very happy noises above me, that I block out as best I can, while I let her know I am cumming in her, and sink my cock home deep.

I force cunt off my cock, and have her lie beside me, and make her masturbate, knowing that if she orgasms within a half hour or so of my cumming in her it’s supposed to increase chances of conception, or some such thing. I need to research it more, but for now I want her to cum.

She can’t cum.

Too many mini orgasms while fucking me she whimpers, and reaches out to touch a glob of cum left at the base of my cock from our fucking. Cunt rubs it between her fingers, wondering, holding the first potentially fertile cum I’ve released in 19 years.

She lies back, the rest of the cum in her belly.

Mine.

Life with rope body harness

I’m sitting on the couch, watching an old John Wayne movie. I’m a little uncomfortable, because I’m in a (just a sec, I have to ask Richard) rope body harness. I think there is a Japanese name for it too. But Richard is engrossed in “Angel and the Bad Man” so he’s not being very helpful. I’ll add a link to a picture later.

This is the first time I’ve been tied up. Richard has tied my hands a couple of times, but nothing like this. I’m surprised by my reaction.

My initial reaction, as he tied the first knot, was mild claustrophobia. I had to breathe deeply to calm myself. I didn’t say anything; the pressure of the ropes on my neck and bare chest made me feel very quiet. He had to ask every few minutes if I was okay, because I’m not usually this quiet.

He fed the rope between my legs, and one of the knots pressed against my clitoris. Then he threaded it through a loop in the back and pulled it taut. It tugged up and separated the cheeks of my ass.

Next he wove it across my sides, cinching my ribs and my waist, then tied it off in back. It makes me feel very constrained and controlled. I imagine a corset must feel like this.

I feel very quiet and passive. Like a rabbit in a trap, maybe. I’ve been laying in Richard’s lap as we watch the movie, and he has been playing with my breasts, gently running his fingers along them and occasionally pinching or twisting my nipples. The knot on my clitoris is making it throb.

I’m not sure I can make it to the end of the movie without begging him to fuck me. I’ll let you know how it goes.

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Edited to add: I was just going to link to a website that showed how to tie a rope harness, but Richard said that it would be more instructive (instructive how?) to show a picture of me in the harness he tied.

The spanish inquisition in spanking

No one expects the Spanish Inquisition.

The Spanish Inquisition has three main weapons; threesomes, branding, tattoos, and exhibitionism.

Four.

Four main weapons; threesomes, branding, tattoos, exhibitionism, and nipple piercings.

Five.

Five main weapons…

And so it goes here. There are three things in this relationship that I have taken “off the table.” Well, four if you listen to me tell it – to Amy it’s only three; and that’s something we joke about.

Before we met, when we were talking on the phone or by IM, we were both very open about what we liked and didn’t like in our lifestyles. I’ve lived a more sexually adventurous life in some ways than Amy until now. I say that with some hesitation, as it isn’t entirely true, but it will work as a shorthand for now as people still learn about us. It would be the common perception of us, by an outsider.

The three (four) things are all things that I liked, that concerned Amy, and after discussion I pulled them from our inevitable, yet still upcoming at the time, relationship.

The first is threesomes. Amy is monogamous, and has concerns about bringing a third person into our relationship in any sexual or emotional way. Next is body modification, and the final one is exhibitionism, which we consider to be any D/s play in public that exposes Amy physically or emotionally beyond traditional limits of accepted cultural behavior.

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I like MM/F threesomes, because of the objectification they force, at least the way I do them, on the woman in the threesome. To me, the feeling is one of complete ownership and domination of an owned slave, used for pleasure, and shared by her owner with no regard to her wishes, nor is she able to have any control over her own body, even to the point of who she has sex with. Amy sees this as hot, but had fears it could damage her emotionally.

Amy did not want her body marked by branding and tattooing; her main concern seems to be about the message those marks would send about her, to the people who would be in a position to see them, such as her children.

And exhibitionism. Amy is not the least bit sexually exhibitionistic in a public setting, and prefers to keep her sex life out of the public eye, although she is experimenting with me here in this blog about revealing herself, but only anonymously of course.

After discussion, I told Amy I would remove these options from our relationship. My feeling is that Amy, who has a deep, deep desire to please, would be willing to do things she felt were harmful to herself, if she thought I wanted her to do them. So it’s not a matter of letting her decide if she wants to do them; she will want to do them if they please me. I have to make that decision for her, as I do so many other decisions that are important between us.

Amy will no doubt have her own take on these topics, and will probably speak to these issues at some point as well.

To me, these are ways that we can use to further our D/s relationship, but they are not the only tools, and there are others far more effective and exciting than the ones I have decided not to use for now. The last three nights, for example, I have made Amy sleep at the bottom of the bed with my cock in her mouth, a wonderful way to take away her former expectations of even where she will sleep at night. For the moment, I have not yet made her sleep on a large pillow with the dogs, nor have I forbidden her the use of furniture, but all in good time.

Got it in the rear end again

That’s right. I got ass fucked again. I mentioned in an earlier post that I’d only been ass-fucked twice. Now it’s three times.

But I’m not sure whether I should write about my ass-fucking, or about when he blindfolded me and tied my hands and then went down on me for an hour, bringing me to the edge then stepping back over and over and over, until he finally let me cum in a screaming, slamming, writhing orgasm.

Or I could write about him taking me to bed last night and face-fucking me, then pushing me to the bottom of the bed, where he made me sleep with his cock in my mouth or in my hand all night. He would pull me up next to him during the night when he felt like fucking me, then shove me back down to the base of the bed.

I know what I’m NOT going to write about. I’m NOT going to write about his awful last post, and in particular those awful pictures he took of me. Nonononono, I’m not. : (

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