Re-inviting the sensual into my life

Before Richard, my life was very cerebral and above-the-neck. Not just in my work; also in the things I did in my off-hours and in my relationships with men. The only thing that felt full and complete in my life – body and mind and soul – was my relationship with my children.

I knew what my life was missing. I was raised in a tropical paradise by lazy, live in the moment, sensual parents. I grew up mostly naked and brown and happy. I spent my non-school time with a big group of family and extended family and friends, beaching and drinking and not doing much of anything at all.

Somehow when I went off to college I lost touch with that side of myself. It was as if, to grow my mind, I had to shut off my body. In graduate school, I even stopped reading poetry. Poetry had always been important to me, both reading it and writing it, but I was suddenly unable to appreciate it anymore – it felt silly and affected to me. Only recently have I begun to enjoy it again, and I’ve discoverd Rumi and Pablo Neruda, among others.

No complaints about my brain. It’s made a lot of money for me, created a nice life for me and my kids. I’m proud of it. But I’m more than a big brain, and the rest of me had been neglected for a long time.

Last year, I went looking for what was missing. It was a little more complicated than just re-inviting the sensual into my life. For one thing, I’d never known the grown-up side of sensual. For another, I was coming to terms with the reality that I was a sexually submissive woman. How did those things fit together? How could I find what I wanted and needed, when I wasn’t even sure what it was?

What I found was Richard. Richard is smart and analytical and intellectual and emotionally intelligent. He keeps pace with what he calls my “monkey brain”, he can match me in debate, he can parry when I tease or challenge, he can talk me through emotional minefields and sensitive social scenarios.

But he’s so much more than that.

He’s my man. He’s my mate. He’s my master.

Sometimes I wake at night to feel an arm snaking over my hip. It wraps around my belly and pulls me hard against him. I feel his chest on my back, thigh against thigh. I feel him nuzzle my neck, I hear him growl “mine” quietly. I know he means it. This isn’t a sexy game. I am his.

When I come back from the office in the early afternoon, we slip on our swimsuits and head for the pool. We slide into the water, leaving our arms propped on the deck, and bake in the sun like lizards. We talk desultorily – what he did, what I did, what the real estate market is doing, politics, philosophy, what photoshoot we’d like to do next, how great our last fuck was. I’ll turn my head, eyes half open, and see that Richard has disappeared underwater. He’ll surface with a big grin on his face – either to tell me about some silly pool game he played as a kid, or that he was looking at my breasts underwater and liked how they bounced around.

Sometimes he’ll swim underwater the length of the pool and then turn toward me. Suddenly his face will light up, and I know he’s going to “hunt” me. Nothing is as gleeful as Richard on the hunt. He’ll begin moving toward me, not taking his eyes off my face, watching for the sign that I’m about to bolt. I’ll try to stay put, try to tell myself that he’s just being goofy. But I always spook eventually.

I’m a strong swimmer, but there’s nowhere to go. It’s a small pool and before I can get far enough away to pull myself out, he’s on me. He’ll grab my leg and pull me toward him, chuckling under his breath, then pull me close and slip a hand under my suit, cupping a breast or an ass cheek or my pussy. I have to remind him that people can see us, and he always releases me reluctantly.

I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t know if I’m doing a good job. I may have to try again another time.

Here’s how it is: Richard is my mate in a way that I didn’t know about before. I love him like an animal. I need him in a primal way. I physically ache for him when we are separate.

He is mine. Mine.

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Fuck like a champ

“Good idea.” says Richard “Post tipsy. You’re bound to say something profound.”

He’s sitting next to me on our patio, watching the Weber, which has a head of garlic, baked potatoes, thick slices of aubergine and two eensy weensy steaks a-grilling on it.

I’ve taken control of a truly artisanal margarita, the second of the evening. We’ve been making margaritas from scratch almost nightly for the last week, since the kids have been with their father. It’s not often that I can take control of something in the Richard/Amy D/s relationship, me being the /s and all. But Richard is a cheap drunk, and he’s having trouble wielding the barbecue tongs, and so I have co-opted the margarita.

I was planning on my next post being a very deep, thoughtful, evocative thing aka Z or droplet or sulpicia or jdslove, if she would ever begin blogging ffs. But no. You get drunken ramblings instead.

We always share a glass. Water, lemonade, soda, wine, JD…we share. Boundaries issues? Mebbe. But it feels very romantic and wonderful from here.

Oops! He just snagged a gulp of it while I was writing.

Then he asked what I was writing about and I said “You. You and your enormous cock.”

“I don’t have an enormous cock!

“I have a perfect cock. The perfect size.”

OK boss. Perfect cock. Yup.

Well he does actually.

I used to scoff at the saying “It’s not the meat, it’s the motion.”

I figured that was something that small guys said. Call me a size queen. I was wrong. (He’s got lots o meat, but it’s the motion, omigod the motion)

This morning, no in the middle of the night actually, I woke up to Richard wrestling my breasts. Not fondling. Manhandling. Before I could surface to consciousness he had flipped me onto my tummy, grabbed my hips and hauled my ass into the air.

I was suprised (in a vague, half-awake kind of way) that he was able to slip into me so easily, without really any foreplay at all. Today when we were driving to a Greek restaurant for lunch and talking about this he said “Look, I’m feeling really aggressive right now. You want foreplay AND an orgasm? I don’t *think* so!”

He fucked me so hard, so long, so sweetly…he was an artist. He is a fucking PhD in fucking. He deserves a Nobel for fucking, with a specialty in doggie style or hands-n-knees or from-behind or whatever-you-call-it.

After hours (well, not really, it just felt that way), he flipped me onto my back and really started fucking me hard.

The whole time he is growling like an animal. I can tell he doesn’t know he’s making any noise at all. He’s just hammering my pussy and *owning* me by fucking me, I can’t think of another way to say it.

As he gets close to cumming, he moves differently. It’s more…random, less linear, less predictable. And it feels so, so sweet. I just arch my back and hold my breath and try to feel every inch of him. When he cums in me, I understand why the French call it “la petite mort” – “the little death”. He dies in me, I die with him, we die…I struggle completely awake and he pushes himself off me.

He grabs my hand and pulls it down to my pussy.

“Masturbate for me. Do it.”

I start to touch myself, but he’s not convinced. “Do it now. Be a good girl. I want you to cum.”

I keep going. He can feel it, and he starts to play with my breasts, with my nipples. “You’re full of my cum. You’re mine. I want you to cum.”

Usually cumming makes him less aggressive, but not today. Today he knows and he feels it that I am his and his alone, all day long, all night long. His aggression, his dominance – I’m going to feel it throughout the day, no matter how often he cums. This is what life is like when we are alone for several days. I am completely his – his girl, his slut, his toy. So much less and so much more than I ever was for anyone before in my life.

“”Cum for me now.”

And I do. I do. Because I am his, because he wants me to, because he takes me there.

That one time I took her from behind

The kids come back today, and we head off shortly on another trek into the future. I’ve been obsessed with some home renovations and photography, leaving little time for blogging.

Which Amy has pointed out.

I’ve been particularly focused on laying tile down on the concrete patio. Amy has viewed this as a “less than immediate” priority task. She pointed out that I could have been building the shed, which would give us some additional storage space, and relieve congestion in the house. As she pointed out “We already had a perfectly good floor out there.”

Well. Too bad. Now we have a tiled floor out there.

And still no shed.

Ok so that’s the next project.

But it means we had some stories that didn’t get told over the last two weeks. One morning Amy and I were fooling around on the bed, and I knocked over her coffee cup. I grabbed it before it hit the floor, but in the process dumped most of the coffee over her head and the bed. I was starting to clean it up, but Amy said “Can’t we leave it for a bit?

We did so.

One thing continued to lead to another…and…well…

One of the most charming memories for me of the past week was fucking Amy from behind, her hair full of coffee and she herself with her faced pressed into the bedding next to this massive coffee stain on the sheets.

And then yesterday, we started to get up, and somehow I started massaging Amy’s wonderfully naked ass, which led to some serious spanking and anal play. Much fun, and well worthy of a story, but I’ve not had the time to get to it. Maybe Amy will.

We’ve been looking for vintage clothing, we’ve done photo shoots we haven’t mentioned here, and Amy got this KILLER black wiggle dress to wear to the club. It’s partially transparent, and looks awesome without a bra – I’ll get a shot up shortly, I’m planning to do a pic of her in it later today.

Returned to the club Saturday Night – had the most fun yet. I’m getting Amy used to the idea of public play. And you should see her in some of the vintage slips we have now. Perfect for a kink club.

I’ve got a picture in my head that kinda came to me in a dream. Amy and I have put together the clothes for it, now we just need a location to shoot it and a major prop, both of which we will get on the upcoming road trip. Not sure I can pull it off, but it will be fun trying. We’ll get something out of it, anyway.

It’s been a full week, enjoying ourselves and getting prepared for the future.

Now to get Amy into that wiggle dress.

And out of it…

Open your legs

This morning I had to wake up early to get some reading done before a meeting. Reading I should have done the night before, but I was having too much fun snuggling and flirting with Richard.

We have been having so much fun together with the kids gone. A couple of days ago when we were fucking, Richard called me a cunt and I snarled at him – when am I gonna learn just to ignore him? Afterwards when we were cuddling, he started teasing me about being his cunt and I denied it (of course). Somehow this devolved into him holding me down and saying “Cuntcuntcuntcuntcuntcuntcunt”. And I, being the mature person in the relationship, after a few minutes of saying “No I’m not! Shut up!” switched to “I know you are, but what am I? I know you are, but what am I?”

I am embarassed to admit that this went on for several minutes. We’d slow down and start giggling and a few seconds later he’d start up again “Cuntcuntcuntcunt” and I Could.Not.Let.It.Go. “I know you are, but what am I?” Over and over and over.

The next day, during post-orgasmic snuggling, he began walking his fingers along my ass, then up to my breasts, singing “The inchy pinchy lobster/climbed up Amy’s butt/up to her nipples/to see if she’s a slut”. I HATE being pinched, so at this point I began struggling madly to get away and it turned into a major wrestling match.

I managed a sweet little maneuver to get off the bed and went scampering downstairs, naked as a jaybird. I ran through the kitchen and realized that I either had to run into the back yard (hi neighbors!) or into the garage. I dashed into the garage and then hung onto the doorknob for dear life, hoping I could at least slow him down, my heart pounding.

I heard Richard, who had taken the time to put on a pair of shorts, walk quietly into the kitchen. Then I heard the door to the back yard open. I waited a few seconds, then quietly opened the door to the garage, planning to lock Richard outside. I was chortling, I tell you. As I opened the garage door, though, I saw that the door to the back yard was ALREADY locked. Confused, I looked toward the kitchen and saw Richard heading toward me, grinning, with a riding crop in his hand. (Not the one from the feed store).

“I knew you wouldn’t go outside naked, silly girl.”

So I got hauled back to the bedroom and suffered the indignity of a whipping (cropping?), made better by more cuddling and kissing and teasing afterwards.

 

Last night, Richard went online to see if his kids were on. I went into the other room and logged on the desktop computer. I quietly took off my shirt and turned on the webcam. Then I buzzed Richard. Hehehe. He was so surprised. It brought back a lot of nice memories of our early relationship (we met online, and started IMing and webcamming after a month or so, but I was VERY shy back then – the “no shirt” aspect was a new one lol).

After a few minutes IMing back and forth, he typed “now I’m going to surprise YOU” and suddenly he was behind me, cupping my breasts with his hands, nuzzling and kissing my neck. Mmmmmm. We agreed that real time is sooooo much nicer. But I am so thankful for the internet, because we never would have met without it.

So. This morning. The alarm rang and I reached to turn it off.

Richard said “Roll over next to me”.

I did, and he said “Open your legs.”

Which I did. He slipped his hand over my pussy and closed my legs again, then draped his other arm over me.

“Um Richard, I have to get up now. I have that reading to do.”

“Shhhh.”

So I laid silently for a minute, feeling the warmth from his hand, trying not to get too aroused, trying not to wiggle.

“OK. You can get up now.”

I did my reading, while he slowly woke up next to me. I finished more quickly than expected (maybe not my most *careful* reading ever) and rolled against him.

We began teasing each other with our hands and then our mouths. I was the first to crack.

“Richard, please fuck me.”

“We can’t. You’ve got to get to the office.”

“Pleeeease. Just put it in. Just for a sec. C’mon.”

“I’m not just putting it in. Nope.”

“OK. Two strokes then. OK? C’mon. Please Daddy.” (batting my eyelashes imploringly)

“Just two strokes huh? OK, climb on top, little girl.”

Sweet jesus. He played with my breasts as he fucked me from below.

“I think that’s two. We better stop.” (smartass me)

“Shut up and fuck. You know how to fuck don’t you? Just fuck.”

So I did what I was told.

After a few minutes, he popped me off of him and flipped me onto my belly. I thought he was going to fuck me from behind, but first he smacked me HARD several times on each ass cheek. THEN he hauled my ass in the air and fucked me. Every few thrusts he would smack me again. My ass was stinging and it felt soooo good.

Then he flipped me onto my back and really started fucking me in earnest. We were both wildly turned on at this point, and I know I couldn’t have put together a complete sentence if I’d wanted to. I was moaning and bucking and biting and hitting and finally Richard had enough of it and grabbed a pillow and put it over my face (note for the safety police: leaving my mouth free : )).

Wow. That really quieted me down. He was fucking me even harder and I could feel every millimeter of him, every move he made and I just stayed as still as I could and felt it all.

After a while he pulled the pillow off my face and stared down at me as he kept fucking me.

“You need to get used to being used like this, little girl.”

“I am going to use you more and more. Like this, and in lots of other ways too.”

I could feel myself orgasming as he spoke and he thrust into me hard twice more and stopped. He held me close and told me he loved me and then we hopped out of bed and I barely made it to my meeting in time. And I couldn’t stop thinking about him the entire time. It was the longest meeting of my life.

I get to be his little girl

Wow. I am so excited. For the next two weeks, starting manana, all I have to do is be Richard’s good girl.

Well, technically, I have several big projects to complete, but I can do these almost completely at home. As Richard said, “No problem. You can type in chains.”

Wheeeeeeeeeeee.

The kids are going away with their father for two weeks.

We’ve had them for the last week. We adore them. But. It’s been a solid week of Quiet Sex. You know. No spanking. No squealing. No begging or moaning, or at least no LOUD begging or moaning.

And no wearing my collar. Or chains. Or whatever slutty little outfit Richard feels like seeing me walk around the house in.

And the week before, we were on the road, in waaaaaaaay too nice of a hotel and waaaaaaaaay too busy to get much fun in. (Although Richard managed to snap a pic of me working naked, unbeknownst to me (see last post).)

So I am really excited and really trepidatious, because Richard says he thinks he’s been too lenient with me lately, and that’s going to change this week. I’ll keep you posted!

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!

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 fuck a face

Isn’t that a nasty sounding term – “face fucking”? Or maybe it’s just me.

Richard told me, before we met, that he didn’t really enjoy oral sex (done unto him) very much, although he liked giving oral. He found it too passive, and got bored easily. I imagined him staring at the ceiling, thinking about what color to paint the ceiling, as I knelt between his legs licking and sucking his cock. His attitude was a bit disappointing to me, because I really love to give oral and consider myself rather good at it, too.

But neither of us had experienced face fucking. Me, because I’ve never been in a D/s relationship before this and Richard, because he’d never been interested.

One day I decided, after we’d been kissing and making out for a while (I think he’d already fucked me at least once), that I would see if I could convince him that oral wasn’t such a bad thing.

I began kissing his neck, then down his chest and belly, then nibbled on his hips and along the inside of his thighs. I nudged at his balls and slowly, gently licked and sucked one into my mouth, and then the other.

I looked up at Richard. He didn’t seem to be thinking about painting the ceiling.

His cock was already hard and straining as I licked up its underside. I ran my tongue along the head and into the crease, then I slid my lips over the head. I began slowly sliding my mouth down the shaft, with my tongue working the underside.

I looked up again, with his cock in my mouth. I seemed to have his attention.

I would slide down an inch, licking to keep him wet, then increase pressure as I pulled my mouth up to the tip, then slide down a couple of inches, increase pressure and pull up again, then do it again a little further. My hand was on his belly; I could feel him breathing shallowly.

I was feeling a bit smug. Mr. “I’m In Control Around Here” was putty in my hands.

Suddenly, he reached around to the base of my neck, twisted my hair around his hand a couple of times and used it to shove my face onto his cock.

I gagged; Richard is not a small man.

He held me down like that, with his cock deep in my throat. I was choking and struggling, but that didn’t seem to faze him.

He tightened his grip, and pulled me off his cock, but only to the tip. He held me there for a moment, then plunged me back onto it. I gagged, and drool began to pool at the base of his cock.

He pulled me up again, then began to face fuck me in earnest, rhythmically pushing me down and yanking me back up, with a firm grip on my hair and the base of my neck. My eyes were watering, but after a minute or so I was accustomed to being deep-throated and no longer gagged at each plunge onto his cock.

After a few minutes, he pulled me up, half an inch from the tip of his cock, and held me there. I could see his cock, but I could no longer touch it or taste it. It had become unbelievably hard and large. My jaw was aching, my eyes were tearing, but oh, I wanted him to face fuck me more. I moaned and tried to reach for his cock with my mouth. He pulled me away, still tantalizingly close, and laughed.

“Not bad. Now I’m going to train you to do it how I want it done.”

To be continued…