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.

How to fuck more often

In the three months I’ve been (real time) with Richard, I think I’ve had more sex than the rest of my life put together. Three times a day adds up pretty quickly to the same amount of sex in a 5 year, once a month whether we need it or not, kinda marriage.

(OMG! I just busted out my calculator, cuz I’m a geek like that… 12×5=60 times having sex in marriage, 3×90=270 times having sex with Richard! I’ve already had 300% more sex with Richard than I did with my ex! Approximately.)

And that’s just talking about quantity. Quality, well, there’s no comparison. Richard is an incredibly thoughtful and creative lover and of course, finally recognizing my kink and having a kink-compatible lover makes a world of difference to my own interest in sex.

But. As Richard said in an earlier post, we are in a short-term period when he’s not supposed to have penetrative sex. Although two weeks reeeeeally doesn’t feel short-term right now.

He’s been using the time, as he said, to force me to masturbate to orgasm repeatedly. Evil creative genius that he is.

bdsmcouple-amy-morning-bed
Amy, unaware she is about to be fucked.

We’ve also cheated already, with the girl-on-top position. Not a favorite of either of ours, and Richard had never cum in that position. Before yesterday. Who would have thought that a guy could be so dominant in the “female superior” position? Here’s how it went.

We’re lying on the bed, taking a “nap”. We’re snuggling and kissing and Richard starts playing with my breasts. After about 30 seconds (really) he says “Get on top of me.”

I start to argue “This probably isn’t a good idea. We’re supposed to wait two weeks, you know.”

“Get on top of me. Now.”

He’s using the no-nonsense voice, so I get on top of him. I thought I’d have trouble, since we’ve only been playing for a minute or so, but the combination of pent-up desire and Richard’s no-nonsense voice has me wet and ready to be entered.

We both groan as he enters me. How could we have gone a week without this? It feels so sweet, so good I can almost taste it.

I move on top of him gingerly, concerned not to hurt him. He reaches up and cups my breasts in his hands. Then he begins to play with my nipples, and it becomes harder for me to control my movements. He is lying still, letting me do the work.

“Keep moving. Don’t slow down.”

His hands don’t leave my nipples for a second, the tugging reaches all the way to my cunt.

I can feel him moving gently with me. I let out another moan and, without noticing, slip a finger into my mouth. I’m sucking hard on it as I’m being fucked from below.

His hands leave my breasts and slide down to my hips. He begins to guide me up and down on his cock.

I’m trying hard to control myself. I really don’t think we should be doing this and I’m worried Richard will get hurt. But it’s getting harder not to buck and claw and bite. I fall forward onto his shoulder and steady myself by biting down.

He’s able to change where his cock hits inside me simply by changing where his hands hold me. He moves from my hips to my waist and then my lower back. Each movement is so intense I can’t stifle a moan or exclamation.

He’s getting harder and he’s fucking me deeper. I grip his shoulders with my fingers. Later, I notice scratch marks there.

After a few minutes his fucking gets more erratic and I can tell he’s close to cumming. His eyes are closed and his breathing is ragged. For a second I worry that he’s going to get hurt, and then I’m lost again in the sensations.

“Oh God. Fuck. I’m cumming. I’m cumming.”

He thrusts deep and empties his cum into me. It feels…indescribable.

Less than a week to go.

My torture fantasies

We’re in San Antonio for a couple of days. For business, but I booked us at the closest hotel to the city’s annual Fiesta. Fiesta, as far as I can tell, is a giant street party (hence the name), with food booths and lots of beer and margaritas, carnival rides, and great bands. The atmosphere is remarkably like Bourbon Street in New Orleans, where we were just a few weeks ago on business, except for a larger Latino presence and more kids running around.

Richard has talked about enjoying exhibitionist women, and I’ve talked about being about as far from an exhibitionist as a woman can be. I decided that while we were here, away from home, I would try to be a little more relaxed about how I look in public.

This morning, as we dressed to go out for breakfast, I pulled my collar from the suitcase. Richard didn’t know I had brought it. I asked him to put it on me and his face lit up.

I wore it to breakfast. I wore it to the Alamo. I wore it along the Riverwalk. I only took it off when he wanted to take a picture to send to his family.

(Who wants to have THAT discussion? “Richard, your new girlfriend – she’s wearing a dog collar.” “Yes, Mom, that’s right.” “It’s a nice dog collar, but why would she wear a dog collar, Richard?” “She likes wearing a dog collar, Mom.” “Richard, does she eat Alpo, too?” etc)

Richard was teasing me when we were walking along the Riverwalk. We were in front of a big group of people, and he suddenly grabbed me by the waist and pushed me up against the wall of the underpass and kissed me passionately. I could see all of the people staring at us as they passed, so of course I flushed bright red.

He had been saying that he was going to make me take off my panties and give them to him, and a little later he pulled me into an overgrown area and raised his eyebrows. I was so scared he was going to make me take them off! But then he just laughed and pulled me back onto the path.

After we’d been walking for a while, I went into a public bathroom (with permission, of course). When I came out, I slipped my panties into the back pocket of his jeans. He was thrilled.

Later, I wore a VERY lowcut, red wrap dress to dinner, with matching strappy sandals. Richard was appreciative, as were some of the locals when we walked around the Fiesta site after dinner.

 

So, I’m doing my best. And he knows I’m doing my best, although I know he’ll keep having me do more. This is challenging for me, but it’s worth it when I see how much he enjoys it. Plus I’m expecting payback tonight (as soon as I get this posted hehe).

And I was forewarned. When I was looking through old emails a few days ago, I found Richard’s reply to me, when I asked him what it was he wanted to do when we got together (two weeks before we met for the first time). He said:

I want to fuck you, to torture you, to strip you naked and display you to the world and say you are mine.

Fair warning.

I need a good spanking

The last week or so has been really hectic. Busy at work; even having to work the last couple of weekends. Lots of stuff going on socially. And we’ve had the kids for five days straight. Not much alone time, not much time for romance or D/s play.

Plus Richard has had severely congested ears for several weeks now. Not too painful, but he’s having a hard time hearing anything. (And don’t get me started on how much fun I’m getting out of, anytime he says he’s having trouble hearing, saying “What?” I trick him into repeating himself about half the time. Chortle.)

He finally decided to bite the bullet and take an antihistamine and decongestant, probably just to shut me up with the “what?” joke. So for the last few nights he’s been out like a light and he’s had trouble waking up in the morning.

bdsmcouple-amy-spanked-spanking

Which means…no bedtime fucking, no middle-of-the-night fucking, and severely reduced morning fucking. In fact, two mornings ago we were having GREAT sex, really getting into the groove, Richard had me pinned to the bed with one hand, my ass in the other and was fucking the lights out of me, when the ALARM RANG. Richard grabbed at it, fumbled and poked at several switches, and finally gave up with a sigh, pulled away from me and slammed it quiet.

I was kinda wishing I was the alarm clock. I kinda woulda liked to have been slammed quiet. If you know what I mean.

But I digress. I’m still getting fucked at least daily (notice I didn’t say anything about naps *smirk*). But, because we’re time constrained and tired and drugged (well, Richard is) and need to be quiet cuz of the midgets, we’re not doing a lot of D/s play.

I feel…unfocused. I don’t feel as submissive as I usually do, I don’t feel as controlled, I don’t feel as overwhelmingly focused on Richard. The rest of our life has grown up around us over the last week, and I don’t like it.

Remember I said I’m not a masochist?

Well, all day long I’ve been thinking about how NICE it would be if Richard were to get really stern with me and scold me for something I’ve done and then give me a long, hard spanking. Long enough and hard enough to make me cry. And then fuck me, while my red, hot ass was still throbbing from the spanking.

Should you call your girlfriend cunt?

Amy told me, the other night while we were cuddling in bed, that she doesn’t like it when I call her cunt when I am fucking her.

WTF?

She was hoping I’d call her something more romantic, like “Sweetie,” or “Angel,” or some such name.

Now, keep in mind I don’t call her “a cunt.” No, she is “Cunt,” an entirely different creature altogether.

bdsmcouple-amy-pussy
She has since claimed to be teasing me, but what am I to guess from this? I know the humiliation I make her feel sometimes through word and action is very hot, for both of us. So, does she really not like being Cunt, or is this a ploy to make me think she really doesn’t like it, and therefore I’ll use it more, heightening the humiliation factor.

Amy doesn’t play mental games.

She does tease, though.

I just think she doesn’t like being Cunt.

Amy is easily the smartest person I know. I have shifted to a new technique when debating topics with her. Namely, don’t pick any position, because Amy will outflank and outmaneuver any logical position with my old nemesis, accurate facts. I hate accurate facts. And she seems to know them all.

Amy reminds me of a Vulcan. All brains and thinky thinky until pon farr hits, and then she’s an excited mass of sexual passion. Seriously, Amy is very intelligent and articulate, but during sex, when she has been properly aroused, she speaks, but the sounds don’t form proper words. All she can say that you understand is “no,” and “please.”

To me, she has become thoroughly female. Completely, 100% cunt.

And what other word could I use? Vagina? Pussy?

No.

I remember running across the word “queynte,” in my old Chaucer reading days. A form of “cunt,” and also meaning knowledge, or cunning if you like. The word “cunt” seems to have been formed from the feminine syllable “co,” pronounced “coo.” Long recognized as a feminine syllabel, you see it today even in phrases like “hootchie-coo,” for example.

While nothing is certain, it is put forward by some that the word evolved through numerous usages, possibly through the Latin “cunae,” which you will recognize as related to “cuneform,” and is seen in the word ” cunnus,” Latin for “vagina.”

The final syllable is often linked to Scandanavian usages of the word meaning “wife,” or “woman” or related meaning such as “kone,” “kut,” “kuton,” “kunta,” and “kutte.”

The Dutch are given credit, ultimately, for the addition of the “t” to the word, and their influence seemed to have been what resulted in the final shape of the word. To run the risk of over-simplification, the “cu” seems to have evolved from the Proto-Indo-European language, the “n” from the Latin, and the “t” from the Dutch, to find a final amalgamation in the word “cunt,”

It’s first recorded in England as a street name in various redlight districts of cities such as London and Oxford, which had streets named “Gropecuntlane.”

Cunt.

A fine word, with a distinguished pedigree, but currently in disfavor, and out of polite usage.

I, however, am not so polite.

When I am fucking her…

Amy is Cunt.

Making her starved for orgasms

Amy hadn’t cum for a day or two, and really wanted to cum. The previous night, at some small hour of the morning, I awoke when Amy bit my neck in her sleep. She wanted to cum, she told me. I told her the next night I wanted to put her in chains and explore her body with my mouth, and that I would have her cum then.

We went to bed early that following night, skipping dinner, and neglecting the rest of “The Last Tango in Paris.” Amy was anxious; a woman used to coming daily, and now orgasm starved for – well I don’t remember exactly how long. Long enough, apparently. I reminded her about the chains, which she had thought was just a sleep induced thought of mine from the night before, and offered to go get her chains.

I said “No.”

I didn’t want her doing anything.

I got the chains myself.

I made her lie patiently on the bed, awaiting my return. Then, as I fitted the chains to her body, I explained to her that this was for my pleasure, and she wasn’t to do anything, just to respond in whatever way her body led her. I carefully made certain that she knew I wanted to explore her body for my own interests, and that I wasn’t interested in giving her an orgasm, but that I would play with her as long as I felt like it, and when I had had my fill of exploring her, she would then masturbate for me.

After chaining her, I flipped her over on her belly, and began exploring her back and arms with my mouth and hands. After a while, I moved down to her lower back, and then to her ass. With the chains on her ankles, I couldn’t open her ass cheeks as easily as I would have liked, as her legs could only spread so wide, but I was still able to use my tongue and fingers to test her little asshole in various ways. Her hips began to move rather rhythmically at times.

Gentle whimpers.

A pleasant background music to my own focused interest.

Some time later, I rolled her onto her back, and explored her belly and thighs with my mouth and hands. I left aside her breasts, as I knew she would likely writhe and thrash if I explored them, and I wanted a quieter, more contemplative ambience.

I eventually found my way to her pussy, and played with it until I grew tired of exploring, my lips fully satiated with the taste of Amy’s delicious body, and moved alongside her to twist her nipples as she masturbated herself to a mandated orgasm.

She came fast.

I held her for a while after she came, then later I fucked her, long after her own orgasm had subsided, for the delicious pleasure of just using her body. The chains make entering her a bit awkward, but the different angle of penetration is always welcome, and I came in her with a sharp intensity.

Going in BDSM full-time

I’ve been meaning for a while to talk about how Richard and I got together. I mentioned in an earlier post that we met online, and that we IMed for several months before we finally met in person. Originally we interacted in a very vanilla way, and I thought he was fantastic. He was so smart and funny and articulate.

But stepping back, the first time I saw his avatar (the small picture that is attached to a post), I felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach. His face – he was magnetic. I had a gut level, primal response to him. I wanted him.

We flirted for a month, showing up in the same threads on a BDSM board, teasing each other, dancing around a more personal connection. Tease, retreat, watch, tease, retreat.

After a month, after being teased to a frenzy, I emailed him. Still very light-hearted, flirtatious. I didn’t expect a response; I felt like a freshman girl making eyes at the quarterback. He was so gorgeous, so self-assured, so charming. Why would he be interested in me?

He replied almost instantly. I answered; he replied quickly again. I told myself that he was a very friendly person, that he was probably emailing many women at the same time, in the same way. I had butterflies in my stomach every time I checked my email.

It heated up quickly. I read through our old emails yesterday, in preparation for writing this, and was surprised at how often we wrote over the first two weeks and how soon we were talking about serious things.

We began talking on the phone after a week or so, then began IMing a couple of weeks later. At least a couple of hours a day, talking to each other and, as I said before, most of that talk pretty vanilla. Any “kink” talk was more…theoretical. A bit about what each of us liked, but more of Richard answering my questions, since I’d never had a D/s relationship.

Then, one day, I was IMing with a friend and Richard wanted my attention. He sent me an email commanding me to perform a specific task. At first I thought he was joking, and I sent him a cyber-kiss back and said I was IMing with my friend. He sent a stern reply, basically asking if I knew what happened to girls who didn’t do what they were told.

Wow. I can’t explain it. It was like the ground shifted under me. We had teased a little before, about chasing and spanking, etc. (He’d sign his emails “catch you soon” – it always gave me a little thrill.) This was different. He’d changed the rules. He was commanding me. He was treating me like a submissive, something noone had ever done before.

I said goodbye to my friend and got right on my task. He was pleased but still stern, because of my delay. I didn’t sleep much that night. I was on fire.

After that, we would still have long discussions and joke and tease, but always there was the underlying current of his dominance and my submission. He began demanding more of me, first pictures and then more of me on cam. It would be hard to overstate how shy about my body I was then and how unlike me it was to agree to this.

He was patient, but persistent. A little more every day, and I never hesitated when he commanded me. It never occurred to me. Occasionally I would get insecure or sad after a session – what is called “sub drop” – but we would talk through it and within a day I was back on track. Richard wrote about this happening recently in an earlier post. Both of us were surprised by how unhesitating I was in my obedience. I had always thought that, if I were ever lucky enough to be in a D/s relationship, I would be one of those bratty, sassy subs, always challenging my dom. No way. I’m too invested in being a good girl, and Richard is way too scary to disobey. Occasionally I fantasize about it, but even when I make noises about disagreeing I back down really fast.

During one email exchange at this time, I had asked Richard some questions about the logistics of us getting together. He replied that he needed to complete some things over the next few weeks and then he was coming to get me, to claim me. It gave me goosebumps. I replied jokingly that I had thought we were going to have a nice vanilla discussion about logistics. His reply: “We are done with vanilla”.

And we were. More than I knew. As I’ve said before, I had really thought of myself as a bedroom submissive, and expected to be my usual dominant, assertive self outside the bedroom. And I am in all other relationships, but not with Richard. I submit to Richard, always and in all ways. He is unquestionably my Master.

And yet. I have never had a partner who was this concerned about my feelings and needs, so willing to share in the work as well as the pleasure of a relationship, so much a partner. I can talk to him for hours, about everything from politics to child rearing to science to literature. We laugh about everything and tease each other unmercifully. Last night he put me in chains and then explored my body with his mouth and hands for two hours. I came again and again. A few nights before he gave me a full body massage. Slavery – I can live with this.

I was going to talk about our first meeting here, but this post is already getting long, so I’ll save that for a later post.

Orgasm denial for my girlfriend

I had fucked Amy like a stranger in her chains the previous evening, and didn’t let her cum, despite her obvious need.

In the night, I removed her chains, and when morning came, began to play with her again. I fucked her from behind for what seemed like a gloriously long time, then flipped her onto her back so I could make her masturbate. I like her to cum while masturbating, then I enter her still pulsing body to finally empty myself into her as well. Amy is a delicious fuck while she is in the afterglow of orgasm.

This time, I forced her to masturbate, and knew that her frustration from the night before would make her need intense.

I whispered in her ear as she masturbated, and played with her nipple roughly, and ordered her to play with herself.

I could feel a difference today – she was very aroused, but some sort of frustration was holding her back, keeping her from cumming. She kept coming sooooo close, and then losing it, and then finding it again and sending herself close once again.

I love watching Amy masturbate, I love feeling her movements, but I wanted to fuck her now. I was tired of her masturbating, and I wanted in her. I took her hand, and pushed it harshly to one side, and moved between her legs. Amy cried out in frustration, but I entered her, and began fucking her. She whimpered, and I could feel how much she wanted to cum, but instead I fucked her, came in her, and then I was finished with her.

She can cum later.

Maybe tomorrow.

I am his slave

One last look, for the moment, at the word slave, with definitions found through Google.

“Noun

1. slave – a person who is owned by someone

2. slave – someone entirely dominated by some influence or person;

“A person who is held in bondage to another; one who is wholly subject to the will of another; one who is held as a chattel; one who has no freedom of action, but whose person and services are wholly under the control of another.

“One who has lost the power of resistance; one who surrenders himself to any power whatever; as, a slave to passion, to lust, to strong drink, to ambition.”

As you have seen before in a post by Amy, she has some real problems with the word “slave”, and isn’t comfortable with the very harsh reality of slavery, as contrasted with the kind of relationship that we have.

I’ll leave it to you to decide your own feelings about the word “slave.” There is enough flexibility in the various definitions for me.

I see a state of mind.

Namely, that Amy has lost the power of resistance, has surrendered herself, and is entirely dominated and owned.

Works for me.

“A slave has no choice” African Proverb