Feb 112009
 
{note: This is not for HNT and there will not be any HNT this week}

He had me mark myself for him. Branded, I suppose. “This hole is for Master to cum in” was written on my thigh for him to see. “R’s Whore” written in another spot.

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When I see him, I know he’ll write on me. He has said he’ll do it in black permanent marker. A “tramp stamp” across the small of my back. Filthy words for him to see as he’s fucking me. What will he write?

For His use only

Cum Slut

If found, return to R ok maybe not…heh

When I return home that night to my partner, I will whisper to him the slutty filthy things I did, that were done to me; he’ll see the words and take his own turn claiming my cunt.

I will wear the words in secret for days until they disappear on their own. I don’t know how long it will take for permanent marker to wash off, but I suspect it’s at least a few days.

I don’t know what else he might write. Any ideas? What would you write, be it on me or on your own slut?

Jan 112009
 

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There is a way to catapult me over the line of neutrality straight into submission. If done right, the shift is immediate.

Two years ago there was a young man I was briefly involved with who was a switch. I knew he was capable of being very submissive and downright dirty, but his attitude was full-on toppy brat. I loved it. I was working my way to getting into my dominant side, but he pulled a move that had never been done before to me and the effect was astounding. He kissed me – great kisser, that boy – a hard, deep kiss and his hand went to the back of my head. His fingers pushed against my scalp, through my hair, at the nape of my neck. His fingers full of as much hair as he could get, he closed his hand into a fist and firmly pulled. It was the hottest thing ever and boom – I felt submissive. I never was able to get back into the dominant frame of mind with him, and that’s what he wanted from me – my dominance. We had fun hanging out, making out, but it never went very far because of the D/s stalemate.

I’ve been with a handful of guys since then and I find it funny that very few could do the hair pulling trick as well as the original. There is a specific way so that it is arousing and firm but not sharp and “ow you’re pulling my hair out by the root”. In the middle, at the bottom, with fingers spread so that a large area is being pulled when your close your hand to a fist, you should grab it as close to the root as possible. All of that is needed for it to be a successful move.

When it is done correctly as I am being kissed, and therefore not aware of it until it happens, the effect is obvious and immediate. A moan and a whimper, my knees might buckle a bit, and the jolt of arousal is so swift and sharp that the breath is nearly knocked out of me. I am like a puppet, and that spot directly controls my cunt. I feel it there as much as at the juncture of fingers and hair.

But this is not the only moment to use this move on me………

As I am being fucked from behind it serves as the reins to pull me back closer to your mouth, so that you may growl filthy words in my ear.

As I am sucking your cock, so that you may guide my speed and rhythm.

As I am kneeling before you, so that you may force me to look up at you.

As your lips are travelling over my body, so that you may have better access to another spot that sets me on fire……..which I’ll tell you about another time.

Nov 172008
 

SwelteringCelt has drummed up a lil thing called Microfantasy Monday, and this week I think I can contribute something half-assed ;) The point to the microfantasy is to pick a snapshot….a moment in time and not the whole fantasy. Paint the picture as you wish.

The theme for this week: “There is an ass and it is on display.”

Well now….



I can hear the murmurs of people around me but I am not paying attention to them. My wrists are bound in front of my body. My upper half is draped over a hard surface that is just above waist-high; my bound arms stretched out in front of me, my feet only barely touching the floor. My skirt thrown up to expose my ass. I feel his pocketknife at my hip. He slices off my panties…..my good black lace ass-framing panties! Damnit! He has the option of his hand, or my new leather paddle. I pray for the hand, as I believe it will not be as hard of a whack as the paddle. He runs a finger down the crack of my ass and dips into my slit for a brief second; this attempt to distract me works. I am off guard when I hear and feel the crack of the leather paddle. A split second later my highpitched yelp is also heard. Short, succinct, loud. Both the crack and my yelp.

Oct 092008
 

Before his lips ever touched mine, our first sexual contact was his hand firmly wrapped around my throat. Followed by his pelvis pressing to mine, trapping me against the wall. He stared me down until I broke eye contact; slowly but quickly his free hand snaked around behind my head, grabbed a fistful of hair, and forcefully pulled. My head went back just by a bit, as much as the wall allowed; it forced me to look at him again.

My heart was racing, my breathing was labored and my cunt undoubtedly wet. All this and the man hadn’t even kissed me!

But oh, that changed in short order. It was a kiss that claimed me. Consumed me. Owned me. His hand, still around my neck, gripped a little more. His fingers, still tangled in my hair, gripped a little more.

He pulled his lips away and I quietly protested; a whimper, a sigh, a flutter of eyelids closing. If I were not pinned to the wall I would not have been able to remain standing. He yanked my hair yet again and my eyes snapped open. I could now see the change in him; his jaw was tense, his eyes narrowed in lust and power.

He released me from his grip and took a step back. His palm cupped the side of my face and his thumb roughly traced my lips. One word, as a question:

“Whose?”

“Yours, Sir.”

A small half-smile turned up the corner of his lips.

His hand continued down to my breast and he sharply pulled my nipple. He held it there, wordlessly waiting for my answer, before he would let go. A wince and a sharp intake of breathe before I could say, with a tremor in my voice:

“Yours, Sir.”

His hand cupped my cunt, and I repeated. He grabbed my hips, hard, and spun me around to face the wall. To catch my balance I put both hands up, palms pressed against the cool plaster. One cheek against the wall, meaning one ear turned towards him. His hand smacked my ass hard and then slid down the center and under the curve of my cheeks. He pressed into me and growled the question again in my ear; I faltered with my answer but still told him:

“Yours….Sir.”

I felt and then heard a low rumble of a slightly sadistic chuckle from him. He smoothed my hair to the opposite side of my neck, deceptively gentle for all of 5 seconds before he grabbed a handful again at the nape of my neck. His lips assaulted the side of my neck where it meets my collarbone, the spot that makes my knees weak. He turned my head towards him a little more and his lips claimed mine yet again.

Consumed.

Breathless.

All this and we were still fully clothed…