Thursday, February 25, 2010

Method: Episode Two

 Continued from here.

I disappeared from his life and into the arms of another man; if you didn't already know, men generally don't like that.

After almost a year from the last time I had seen him and let himself have his way with me I agreed to meet him for dinner. In the middle of the dining room, he took my face in his hands, held me tight and close to his own face as he spoke me, the tears almost welling up in my eyes from fear,

"What you did made me very angry, very pissed off. I wanted you and you just went off to someone else, someone we know now would hurt you and cause you pain. Yes, I was very upset at you little girl."

When I looked him in the eyes after dinner when he realized I wasn't going back to his bed with him, his face fell and a dazed expression crossed it. As I walked away in my platform heels across the asphalt, I could feel his angry eyes boring into my flesh trying to will me to trot back toward him and confess my mirrored desire for his body and my need to surrender to him.

It wasn't a power game, I had just decided before ever stepping out my front door that I would keep my clothes on and my legs closed...for the time being. There had been so much electricity when we had coupled before and I wasn't prepared mentally or physically for the crash of it all again.

Episode Two/Day One:

I felt ripples go through my body months later as I walked down that same hallway that haunted my fantasies from so long ago. The long drive over had prepared me, but when I took off my dress to change in front of him before leaving to go out for a drink and a bite, standing only in a black lace thong I could only try to prepare myself for what was to come. He stood behind me, his strong hands on my shoulders, massaging deep. I could feel his presence behind me, his heat and I was thrilled with the fear of it.

After dinner, I laid my head on his chest on the couch while we talked but soon enough his hands were on me and then his lips to. They traced pathways along my face, my lips, my neck, me breasts, my nipples and I was slipping away. He knelt to the floor and pushing up my chiffon dress, began to lick at my amazingly slick kitten, his tongue on my clit making my back arch and soft sounds to emanate from my throat.

He knelt up, abandoning my kitten for the time being. He kissed me with an aching passion, his lips harsh, trying to pull the desire from my very core. His hand came to rest lightly on my throat until he added pressure, making darkness cover my consciousness. When I came to, the world was hazy, my breath coming like no pleasure I've had before, my hands tingling, my chest heaving and my head rolling from side to side, my mouth open taking air like a deprived being.

My whole body was alight with sensation as if none had come before. The fear of it making my heart pulse as if it had never before lived deep within my chest, beating its constant rhythm. I moaned form the wonder of it all.

He took me down again into the dark, his fingertips on my clit. When I came back to the light, the blood rushing back to my brain like a gift from above, I shuddered whole-body from way down deep. My whole body ached and that pain brought forth such a force of desire that I felt helpless before it.

In that moment, I was all sex and sensation.

He pulled me up, I stripped and after applying wrist cuffs and mounting them in the door frame, I stood naked in my seven inch heels my ass out and my frame shaking with sexual tension as I stood before him restrained and at his will. The strap of the bit in my mouth circled my head as I bit down to try to relieve this tortured need within me. Moments later his cat-o-nine flushed my ass and my back as he rained it down bringing moans and inner quakes of passion. His voice was thick with need,

"Look at that gorgeous body and those sexy heels.You are so hot baby."

I moaned behind the bit and laid my forehead against the door with frustration.

In the bed I laid out, legs apart as per his wishes,

"When you're with me you keep your legs spread as far apart as you can at all times."

I shook with apprehension, imagining my sensitive little cleft being exposed to whatever his devious mind could think up.

His mouth lit upon my kitten once more, this time in long, heated strokes that tried to cull the passion from my center. He spoke between licks,

"Now remember my one rule baby girl, you ask to come and then you thank your Sir when he gives you a nice little orgasm."

My brain flip-flopped.

Damn it!

The one thing that crashes my orgasm train is having to ask permission, the expectations so high and not being able to just let things happen. Even with that floating over me I let myself relax and just let it go, I would enjoy myself and let him enjoy me as much as possible regardless.

I kept lurching so near the edge as his tongue, his fingers worked against me, throwing pleasure through my entire frame and yet that small bit of knowledge, even once he recanted on it, held me back like an invisible veil separating me from that final ecstasy. Somehow the tension within me even enhanced everything and refocused it on his body, his pleasure.

Many more times he took me down to the darkness, once more so deeply that I had to pull myself back to the living by listening to his voice coaching me,

"Breathe little girl, breathe."

I had to force my mind to remember do to and once I did everything around me popped into being as if it wasn't there before it was all taken away from me. My body shook against my will and I uttered sounds I hadn't allowed to come out. My body was possessed with its own business of living and my blissed out mind was nowhere to be found.

Again he took me and shattered me to the core, his body pressed tight to mine. I swooned, I sighed and moaned. It was like before but not and in so many ways those two colliding facts only enhanced things.

Later as I slept with my hands cuffed and tied with the same dark, silken rope I slept again but awoke periodically as if my body was shocked to feel his body curled around my own. I slept and dreamed and it was all darkness.

Episode Two/Day Two:

The morning was bright and the room was white all around me. I felt the morning when it came creeping but didn't stir from half-sleep until his hands overtook my body and willed it to wake, to obey his desires for it and will it to be his.

He was all over me, inside of me and wrapped around me. When he wasn't using my body, he stroked it, and spoke to me, asking me as many questions as he answered. He traced all of my curves hundreds of times, finding all over my valleys and furrows,

"I can't keep my hands off of you."

As he took me from behind during our third or fourth session of the morning, he spanked the side of my ass with such force that it willed me into my submissive head-space, my mouth overtook my restraint and I cried out,

"Thank you Daddy!"

He murmured his delight at my response and followed that spank with more than a dozen others, each time warranting my thanks. I nearly sobbed as he took me deep and hard, my hands grasping the sheets to keep my hold on my own inner balance.

After he had had me again until he was satiated, and I could sense the pillow time was over. He stood and the moment was over, it was if he had realized he had let me get to him but now it was time to take back over and live as he always did and comport himself with his usual dignity.

Later after lunch and walking by his side, the wind whipping my skirt about me, I felt that things could either dissappear again or they could hold to me, become a part of me and I felt unresolved.

Before I left him, I knelt at his feet like he always liked though I hadn't felt the desire to do so since the year before. He smiled and said,

"It's not that hard is it?"

Deep inside the answer was "yes" but I just smiled and nuzzled my face against him trying to push away the painful thoughts of what it would mean to truly give myself over to someone again.

The theme of our passion remained within my own mind that of keeping my soft, delicate inner core to myself while letting him have his way with all the other parts of me. When I was alone at home once again and without his arms and his hands and his lips and his voice I was glad that I had kept at least that tiny part to myself.

I was glad I still had me at the end of giving myself away...but I still had the delightful ache to remind me of that solely physical submission and that was delicious.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

e[lust] #8

HNT Courtesy of Blue-Eyed Vixen

Welcome to e[lust] - your source for sexual intelligence and inspirations of lust from the smartest & sexiest bloggers! Whether you’re looking for hot steamy smut, thought-provoking opinions or expert information, you’re going to find it here. Want to be included in e[lust] #9? Start with the rules, check out the schedule in the site’s sidebar and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

This Isn’t Play. . . BDSM and RapeThe very basic principle that we hold so dear in BDSM play, “Nothing without consent” seems to stand in stark contrast to a very common form of play, “Rape Play”.

Half-FullWhen I get my ass beaten, is it as much for the sensation as it is for the “Good girl…I knew you could take that for me.” that I want so badly at the close of the scene?

House Party Part 2 -His wife walked by at one point and he cryptically asked her to “do what she did to so-and-so earlier”. His wife disappeared behind me, but I felt her hands touching me and his cock as it entered me.

~ e[lust] Editress ~

Backseat Orgasms - We kissed lightly and without focus, both a sensual act and maddening at the same time. More, I needed more. In a blur I was on my knees on the seat, straddling his leg, his mouth latched onto one nipple and his fingers hunting for the key to undoing my dress pants.

~ Featured Post (Lilly’s Pick) ~

Are You Watching Me?A plan of devious proportions begins to form. Before this is over with, I will have forced you into a corner…forced you to act…forced you to give ME what I want.

See also: Pleasurists #64 and 65 for all your sex toy review needs.


Erotic Writing

A story of FL
Floor Exercises
Good day for a milking
G-Spot Orgasms Galore – Part 2
Mark. Confession #423
Nothing says I love you quite like…
Playful and Dangerous
Play your part
Splish Splash
The Library Hotel
The Secret I Couldn’t Keep
Triple X
Three A.M. Surprise

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Anatomy of Desire (PT. Two)
Better Cautious Than Raped
Lingerie Tales Vol 1 An Obsession Begins
My life as a gamer’s slave
Saturday Texting
So Simple
The Elusive Female Orgasm
The G Spot Mouse or How To Make A Woman Squirt
Transtastic: On Language

Kink & Fetish

A No Limits Slave?
Are Discipline and Punishment The Same?
BDSM Advice Series: Pet Play
Bondage 101—Part 1: Bondage Basics
Breaking the Demons
Dark/DirtyBlog Crush (an Allegory first!)
Factory Doll
Hand vs. toys
I’m on a book cover: ‘The Punishment List’ by Abel
Men as sex objects
Rough Porn
Raleigh and La Fortress
Savouring the texture of my skin with his teeth
The Way They Look At Me
The Slut Chronicles #13 ~ The Auction
Whither the spankosphere?

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Happy Valentines Day!
Hookers, Catholic School Students and Facebook
Lane Bryant Makes Puppies and Kittens Cry
Pussy Cosmetics and Vagina Myths

Monday, February 22, 2010

Allegory of a 22 year old Femme Fatale

Another year has come full circle for me in my Piscean orbit. Today I turned 22, leading me further into this insane thing called "adulthood"; I've decided not to comply mentally, physically, or even legally.

I think its a good decision.

I never wanted to be older than 17 but this thing called "time" surely forces us all along its coils, so unfortunately my decision will be a purely empty one, ptth.

I'm far from morose though because of all the free drinks, cake, well wishes, food, and gifts I receive so I guess submitting to mortality isn't that bad...

Happy Birthday to me!

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Method: Episode One

Episode One/Day One:

After barely half an hour in this man's presence, something echoing and willful within me lead me to his sanctuary and within mere moments, I was standing before him in only my pink panties.

My body tenses and my breathing is hurried and stressed, his voice is calming but still the fear compounds when I pull at my securely anchored ankle restraints and increases further when I pull at my wrists that are cuffed in leather and buckles and tied to the back of the chair. When the blindfold goes on I whimper and his hands on my face gently soothe me.

My mind is racing, screaming,

"Why would you go with this man and let him get you mostly naked and tie you to a chair and blindfold you!?!?"

My mind is mostly conventional but I didn't let the majority rule.

I whimper softly as he tells me the rules of the game,

"Im going to expose you to ten different things and you have to tell me what they are. I'll touch them to you and let you smell and taste them and then you have only moments to tell me what they are."

He also gave me an amount I wasn't supposed to guess wrong, if I failed I would get something bad and if I won I would get something good.

Simple enough, right?

There was some sort of outdated yet calming music on somewhere as he approached me, his movements intentionally too quiet and concealing as to not give his position away. As we went through the items, some which turned out to be a mousetrap with its rough wooden corners stroked against my arm (which was one of two that I missed), some sort of lotion that had a very striking odor (which I got correctly after it was applied to my nose) and a chocolate chip cookie I began to gain confidence but when I would miss one, my heart sank; I worried what failure would lead to.

After a long while of playing the sensory game, it was decided that I had won and my reward was given to me in a very sultry fashion.

His hand was quick and lithe as it snaked its way down into my panties, the only bit of clothing that remained on my restrained body. Soon enough, my back was arching, my breathing was ragged and in mere moments I was having an orgasm that rocked me so hard that my body pulled against the ropes that firmly held me to the chair to which I was tied.

With hardly a moment to think, collect myself or to allow the vibrations of my ecstasy to cease to reverberate through my whole body, he unties me and pulls me into the bedroom where with barely an indication I fall upon his cock and luxuriate in administering pleasure with my mouth.

After a short bout of my ministrations, his hard cock succumbs and once he lets loose his final pleasure, I lay still with my naked, exhausted body across his legs, the head of his cock in my mouth. Even more than a year later he will tell me that this moment is still one of his most memorable about me.

I returned home later that night inside of a high that nothing could break until the morning light fell upon me...and I hadn't drunk a single drop of alcohol nor taken even the smallest ounce of any drug.

Episode One/Day Two:

The day was hot and windy and as I walked nearer to him, the sunlight pouring down over me I couldn't help but quiver in anticipation of what I hoped was yet to come.

Upstairs, it was exquisite when he finally claimed my body with his own, my legs wrapped tightly around him as he took me standing by the side of the bed. I sighed and was sore with the joyful pain of it.

I left soon after but it took hours to get my mind on anything other than the way his perfectly proportioned cock looked right before it invaded me as the filtered light of the hot, afternoon poured in from the windows in the purely white room.

Episode One/Day Three:

As I lay cuffed and tied to the bed, my body totally exposed but for my slinky black panties, he read out a letter I had written him and made me elaborate on each of the things he found most interesting. I sighed as I was interrogated and watched him as he moved around the bed, around me; circling like a shark. Something deep within made me give him what he wanted, my voice moving straight from my mind without restraint.

I moaned out loudly as he fucked me there, my arms and legs bound. my mind reeled as I felt totally captive to his every whim.

Episode One/Day Four:

Twelve is a word that will go down in infamy (until it too becomes usurped by his ministrations) for my clit.

I came twelve times in succession by his hands, his fingers, his lips, his tongue, and the tip of his cock. Held down, sweating, crying, thrashing, screaming, bucking, struggling, and utterances of "Oh no". After about four or five hours of this, he realized it was past midnight and after deciding we needed to go out in search of food and pulling be up out of bed, my dizzy, orgasm-drenched mind swirling he kissed me once and patted me on the butt with a smile.

I slept like a rock that night, my wrists tied with dark, silken rope. He remarked later that he had watched me as I dropped peacefully into a deep sleep and continued to watch me as I slept, my face still and satisfied.

I woke that morning with a sense of peace I hadn't felt in a very long time.

As the light came in over my body, he untied my wrists and sensually raped my body, his hands and his lips all over me. I cried out softly as he took me again, as my swollen kitten bent to his will and passion.

Later as I knelt at his feet, my sleepy yet contented eyelids half open looking up at him, my mind was blank except for one word: fulfilled.

I cried later that evening when I was once again alone for no reason as I showered. My body letting it all go, an internal rain to release all that I had held back before. He had captured a part of me that I had hardly ever given away and while it scared me it all so filled me with an exhilaration that I was tempted to lie to myself about.

I had momentarily lost my power and a part of me didn't want to give it back.


Continued here.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Dark/Dirty Blog Crush

So in the four years I've been keeping up with this blog while living an insanely busy life that is dictated by Uni classes, two jobs, a tiny dog, and human stuff but I have never done this. I'm doing it now and with no apologies; I have a blogger crush on "Daemon" of Sadistic Excess.

Now commences the gushing:

Since finding his blog, I've been pulled into his dark world full of hardcore sex (sometimes with knives), a palpable sense of sexual tension of the kind that I am so familiar with, girls who give too much, and a seemingly tortured yet cultured spirit. I've had him on my blogroll since about five minutes after I found his blog. I was hooked.

Something I can only take in small doses is writing full of sensitivity and love that brims over like that in the movies (and some soft-core pornos). A good erotic romp on the page can be intense and romantic, there's a time for everything.

Come on, we all love love, but mostly I like my sex as sex and then, preferably dark.

After reading pretty much everything he's ever posted he reminds me of the first Master I ever had, Mika, and it brings heat to a very sensual and scraped-out hollow in my chest. Mika was harsh and dark and deep and fueled by something I couldn't understand.

With us, there was no such thing as a "safe word", he didn't care what you thought you could handle because he had this soul-deep connection with the fibers of pain going through my body. I said "No", he didn't hear it. I said, "Stop", he didn't care. I said "I can't take it.", he taped my mouth up...and I was always glad he had.

I know that bad, bad men are no good for me, but sometimes I can't help it.

Daemon is one of those men who I imagine would ravage you completely, leaving you an utter shell; left wet, sweaty, and quite severely bruised. The only fitting soundtrack a beating heart, breathing and moans (of pleasure? Pain?).

I can almost feel those stripes of pink marking my flesh after a good throttling, the heat seeming to radiate out of their confines. I can nearly feel the tingle of bruises rising up around my tender wrists, the pink that will fade to purple, then away as if nothing happened. How I could savor those marks, the marks of the honor of having given yourself over to another even if just for a little while

...sometimes being bound and confined can be a joy, not a punishment.

My first response to something dark and twisted I find sensual is that I bite the inside of my bottom lip until I can't feel it anymore, the first time I read one of his pieces involving him holding a knife to the skin of a nymphette, this happened. I bit myself so hard, I brought a bit of blood. Something knotted and then unfurled in me and I was enraptured.

I think that the mind of a Sadist or Dominant is something so far from my own Submissive consciousness that when I find a mind of one of these (and what is a blog but a cross-section of our minds spilled out onto the virtual shore of our creativity?) that relays themselves through written word, I find myself so fascinated and taken in by it. The mind lingers on what it will and creates a world of that mood, those thoughts that can't be turned back.

I am but a slave to my own willful mind, my own willful body (we're still working on controlling this one in the real world) when it comes to things that turn me on, twist my mind, and slink up and down my skin of their of volition.

I confess to having a secret, faceless lover that comes to me in fantasies when I choose to be alone with my own body late at night and its men like Daemon that he's modeled after.

Next Blog Crush: My lovely friend Jefferson.

*Image used with permission of the author.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

2010 Blog Re-design!

In the long life of a blog, there comes a moment when its writer looks at it and thinks "Wow, this design has been up forever." and decides, with a burning desire, to change it completely. Here it is, How do you like it?

This time is no different.

After going through some of my archives I realized that the old, modern, pastel design has been up for nearly a year and a half, now in the life of most blogs (that last a few months) that seems sooo long. I have been writing, publishing, photographing, diddling, and networking for this blog for four years! Now is a time for risky celebration.

I loved the old design:

...but change is always good. So here's to the new design, dark, flirty, pink, and with a lovely picture of my be-fishnetted bottom!


Thursday, February 04, 2010

It's a Dog's Life

I've been so busy lately, I've been reduced to letting my dog take over the writing helm, oh how life gets away with us:

So I'm Lala, I'm a two year old miniature Pomeranian and I belong to La Petite Devergondee. You may know her, she's a very naughty girl (as if you didn't already catch on to that).

Life in our apartment is unpredictable and aside from the daily staples of walking, eating, hanging out, walking again, going into my crate, walking one more time, eating again and going to sleep in my mom's big bed, all the in-between time can be a gamble of consequence.

For instance, we went to our neighbor Ninja's house a few days ago and instead of sitting around while they play chess, face each other off in Call of Duty or watch an old movie, while I hang out with his dog, I had to endure laying on the floor at our place while they made noises up on the big bed in the dark. Telling from the noises, I'd day that they were pretty happy.

You never know with my mom, she seems fond of having men in her bed in the dark so they can make noises and then go to sleep...thankfully I still get to sleep up there after wards too. It was my bed first, after all.

Today she was talking to me and told me that after four months, she thought it may be a mistake to start something physical with the hot, esoteric, martial arts guy a few doors down (Ninja), she said she didn't care. I guess he made some noises she liked or something.

As for me, she can make all the noises she long as I get to sleep in the big bed.