♦ Because you see what I did there? Feel free to groan. And perhaps not in the way I’d normally expect. Anyway, my pinwheels need to come out to play more often. I’m hoping to get a bit of fun with them today in fact. I think it’s about time Crush tied me up and made me wriggle under their little spikes. Until then, here are some pictures from the last time I got them out. The pinwheels, I mean.
Now, the one below isn’t exactly the best quality, it was a little blurry before compression, but it’s my first attempt at a GIF on here! Aren’t you awfully impressed? Now that I know it’s that easy, I might just have to do it again sometime. Does anyone have any requests? ♦
Come and be sinful with us this Sunday…
♦ Time for another drawing for Sinful Sunday! This is another one that was drawn a little while ago. In fact, longer than the last one! I’m usually terrible at remembering when I drew things, so how do I know when this was done? Simple really, that’s me and Fractal.
Yup! Now, I have to say right now that that is not the most accurate drawing of me in the world (sorry to disappoint, potential stalkers!). It’s got my scar, but it’s just not right in terms of body shape or my face, really. Hooray for idealism! I could be wrong, but Crush agrees.
I did genuinely own that outfit (still have the garterbelt), though, and the scenario is, shall we say, not too different from many that occurred in real life. I am, as always, a sub who switches. Once again, please click to embiggen, if you’d like, and let me know what you think! I hope you like it, feel free to let me know if it inspires any nice thoughts… ♦
It’s always tease, tease, tease
You’re happy when I’m on my knees
♦ I’m British and quite like being so. Overzealous American toy companies occasionally don’t realise this and offer me review items only to shy away in horror at the thought of transatlantic shipping. But if it wasn’t obvious before, it will be now. British.
Please don’t ever call me English, though. After all, England may not believe Cornwall is a real country (though it has as much right, identity and history to be one as Wales, for example) and you may not either, but there’s no harm letting me identify as Cornish and British and Not English. After all, if I don’t get to be Cornish, I’m at least going to try for Adopted Welsh. I’m a fellow Celt after all.
Britain, though, is fantastic. OK, so there’s a bit of an assumption that it’s all basically England (not just from foreigners I might add, the recent Ann Summers I Scream fiasco claimed to be “across the UK” and actually purely visited English cities), but I’m fairly proud of being British and the things Britain has achieved and its history. There’s good and bad, obviously, but what country doesn’t have that?
So, although I actually couldn’t give a shit about the blimmin’ Queen and the monarchy (they’re a glorified tourist attraction, a big hole down which taxes are poured and largely a bunch of cocks, as well as making us look woefully out of touch), I’m glad to go all out on the red, white and blue front for this week’s Sinful Sunday. Plus, our flag is totally sexy.
And remember: the sun will never set on the British Empire. Because God doesn’t trust the British in the dark. ;) ♦
♦ I wrote this yesterday in a sleep-starved buzz of ideas on a sunlit train back from the North. I hope you like it, because it makes me seriously goddamn wet… ♦
By the stream that was once a river there is a dell where you will find me.
Where you will find me and make me…
And make me…
I will bite down on a fallen branch and press my face into the moss
and you will take me.
And the bark in my hair and the bites on my skin will be reminders.
And the scrapes on my knees and the welts on my thighs
will be my trophies.
The air will hum with screams that break through silence
and the minutes will last for years.
The sun will beat down as you beat down and I…
I will exult in having you make me.
♦ I straddled him as he lay back on the bed, serene except for the excitement in his eyes. He loves to see me on top of him, loves to gaze at my body stretching up to the smile fixed firmly on my face. He likes me to lean forward just so and lift up my top, exposing my breasts.
Naturally, that’s what I do.
His eyes open wider still and the expression on his face is one I want to never forget. He loves me, he wants me. He thinks I’m fucking hot.
I feel a need grow between my legs, a tingle start in my pussy, not helped by my closeness to his body.
He wants to fuck me and says so.
I feel the need for more than just a fast and frantic fuck, no matter how good it would be.
I want to be hit with things.
I unstraddle him and coil up loosely on the bed as he prepares his instruments. I don’t ask for anything in particular, except maybe something lighter to start with just to warm me up. Other than that, I let him choose. He returns with the soft suede flogger for starters and a choice of main course: the spanking ruler, the shiny red paddle and the studded one.
He encourages me into position on my stomach and pulls my clothes from my backside. He brushes the suede tails of the soft flogger over my skin, making me wriggle with the sensation. It’s a light flogger and he has to work hard for it to sting, but I still like it and I love the sensuous way it caresses me in-between strokes.
He began to flog me, softly at first and then, more confident in his aim, with more twist and sting. I practically purred as the flogger hit, but soon longed for firmer things.
Luckily, I wasn’t wanting for long. Crush lay the flogger down and began with his hand this time, spanking me hard until I squirmed, pressing my face into the pillows. I occasionally mumbled when his hit was off or just right and he adjusted accordingly, but any requests for mercy were ignored.
When my arse was red with the sting of his hand, he switched to the shiny red paddle, slapping it into me with each strike. It’s a red shiny PVC on one side and matte black leather on the other and I was surprised to learn that not only did they feel markedly different, but that I could tell which side was which.
After he thought I’d had enough, at least for now, he stopped and allowed me to face him. My bum was hot and tender and I felt wonderful. I felt so ready to fuck him except for one thing.
He’d made a promise to me just the other day and I thought it was time for him to keep it.
See, I’ve taken to occasionally tying my own legs to my headboard via cuffs with long straps when I masturbate. I’ve always felt my best with my legs in the air when I come and when I was single I tended to brace my legs against the wall a lot. Now I’ve taken to a bit of light self-bondage as it feels great to have my legs secure when I orgasm and it’s always fun to feel restrained.
Crush promised recently to use and abuse me in that position and so I made the suggestion. He smiled and agreed on the condition I took a little more punishment.
Soon I was on my back naked with my legs held firmly in the air by velcroed cuffs. Easy to get out of, you say? Not so much, because my arms were firmly placed under my own body weight in such a way that escape would take a good minute of wriggling before even getting to the cuffs. And with Crush right in front of me, that wouldn’t be allowed.
Being paddled with my bare arse in the air meant something else too. I was looking right at Crush as he did it. This is a bit of a new one for me. Normally he’s behind me and my face is turned away. I’m used to closing my eyes or hiding my face. It’s almost instinctive. And whilst I could close my eyes, there was nowhere else to look. He was right there and his eager face kept me fixed on him. The paddle rained down hard and fast and oh-so-pleasurably.
I yelped and gasped and wriggled and even pleaded when the harshest strokes hit, but to no avail. I was on fire with sensation and lust and despite (or perhaps because of) the pain, the tingle in my pussy was growing from a tingle to an ache and an ache to desperate need. He was going to paddle me to orgasm. I could feel it.
Suddenly, the blows stopped. My cries ceased and turned to confusion before realising that he had decided he was done.
“No!” I begged, “More, please, more! More!”
Hearing the need in my voice, he continued and I felt a shaking in my muscles and a throbbing in my cunt. I moaned as the orgasm elbowed its way through my body, setting me shivering and screaming and melting…
As it subsided, he put down the paddle and started to take off his clothes. The angle of entry was new to us, but it didn’t pose much problem and soon he was making his first thrust inside my wet cunt. He rested his hands on my still-aching arse and began to push in and out of me.
“Slower, please,” I said, his cock hurting me a little more than I’d like. He did so and it wasn’t long before I was begging for faster and harder now that I’d warmed up to his girth. I asked him to rest his weight around my neck instead of my arse and he did so, leaving me utterly pinned and at his mercy. Of course, there was no mercy, only relentless fucking from a man who took me inch by inch and threw me open.
To be his to fuck without hope of escape was to be oddly free and I floated on a bed made of thrusts and aches and restraint.
He groaned and I started the climb to orgasm again, coming hard as he spilled his semen into me. I ached and throbbed and gasped and crawled into his arms when he released me. ♦
♦ Crush owed me. It’s a twisted sort of reasoning really, but that’s what it seemed. He owed me a spanking and though it was something he was supposed to be ‘inflicting’ on me, I felt short-changed when I didn’t get it.
When I’d asked him if we could make spanking a regular activity, he readily agreed. I wanted to be spanked every day. I’m not even sure why. Of course, there are some very obvious good reasons for it, but those reasons were always there. Now it just seemed like the want for it clicked into place.
I hadn’t wanted it before. Now I did.
Either way, you can hear about it in this tale of our regular spanking trials, but for now all you need to know is this: strange though it was, since Crush had agreed to spank me and hadn’t, he owed me. Twenty-one spanks, in fact.
We’d left it until late again. That’s what had stopped him from doing it yesterday. He’d just been too tired to lift his head, let alone his spanking arm, repeatedly. But I wasn’t going to let it slide this time. Two days missed was unthinkable in this early stage of our experiment. Otherwise we’d find it harder and harder to fit it, easier to ignore. It’d run out of steam. I didn’t want that.
I insisted. I told him he could make it quick and we’d get right to bed.
So he did. He really did. I’m not sure I’ve ever been spanked that harshly before. Of course, pain is fleeting. It’s one of those things that’s hard to remember, a sensation you can’t quite grasp when you’re not right in the middle of it, at least, not in its entirety. But nonetheless, I couldn’t remember anything like it. He was harsh. He hit me with ferocity, with force. I held on for dear life over his knee, head dangling off the end of the bed. I tried to count, but I lost it somewhere around ten. All I could do was hold on until it was over. It was more than I could take, but I took it and, of course, I loved it.
When we were done, he was still speaking in his dominating tone to me. He didn’t just drop it and roll over, he kept that low note in his voice, his language changed to one that hinted of roughness and retribution. I told him that for someone who had to be cajoled into it, he seemed to be keeping it up a lot longer than he needed to. He claimed he was a method actor. Bollocks to that. But the result was the same either way: a rumble in his voice and a tingle in my core.
I took my clothes off, ready for bed. I should have known boobs were a bad idea.
As I lay down, Crush leapt on my breasts, kissing and sucking my nipples, pinching hard and making me gasp and moan. He assaulted them as he had my behind. His kisses were pillages and his touch was taking.
He squeezed my breasts hard and then turned his attention to my mouth. We kissed. As he pulled away, his hand snuck down between my legs, the other grasping my throat firmly. He started to stroke my clitoris, talking about making me come and watching me moan and writhe. He knelt over me, a slight downward pressure on my throat. He felt good on my clit and I thought to myself that the only thing that would make it perfect would be if I could have his fucking hot cock in my mouth.
He is a mind reader.
Crush knelt closer and put his cockhead to my lips. I opened my mouth greedily and took as much of him as I could. Sadly, the angle meant that was only really the tip of his erection, but I was thrilled to get any of that gorgeous length. I love his cock.
As he touched me and trapped me, I sucked what I could of his cock. I rolled it around my mouth, I kissed it. I licked it, I slurped it. His fingers worked a slow magic on my clit. He’d make me come if I gave him time, but it was late and I was greedy. And I wasn’t sure. I know my clitoris so well, so I asked if I could make myself come while I sucked him.
Crush made me beg and I did.
Soon I had my fingers on my pussy and my orgasm was much more certain. The problem was to time it just right. I still had a cold, you see, so I couldn’t just suck on Crush’s cock to my heart’s content. I have to breathe too, it seems. But I wanted to make sure I had my mouth wrapped around his cock while I came, so my breathing and climax had to work just right. It took longer than it otherwise would have because of that, but soon I was orgasming to the touch of my fingertips, his hand still keeping me held by the throat and his cock firmly in my mouth as I moaned around him.
In my post-orgasmic bliss he took himself from my mouth and pulled my legs around so that he could fuck me. He slid inside me and I groaned as we began to fuck. Our bodies wriggled together in the lamplight and our moans and pants and grunts filled the air. I found myself reaching a second peak sooner than I’d expected and heard Crush’s breathing change too. We were both going to come.
And we did. We pulsed and cried out and both of us were focused on our own pleasure while at the same time being drawn closer and tighter to each other, climaxing as one unit and two distinct bodies at once.
Tiredness hit. We caressed and drew up the duvet. Sleep soon took us.
But it just goes to show, a little spanking can go a long way. ♦
♦ The bad thing about not having any housemates around is that you start to think it’s a good idea to come to your bedroom door in nothing but pyjama bottoms and lean cross-arms and full-breasted against the door frame.
Crush spent the next hour or so showing me that actions have their consequences.
Standing on the landing just below his head was at the perfect height for him to press his face into my bosom. He kissed at my nipples enthusiastically, occasionally stopping for a quick rest on his makeshift pillows. He flicked his head up to look me in the eyes before taking me by the Standard Female Grab Area and pushing me smoothly backwards into the room.
As my calves found the foot of the bed, gravity became Crush’s accomplice and the two tipped me onto my back on the soft duvet. Crush knelt over me triumphantly before quickly grabbing me by the wrists and hoisting me bodily further up the bed. My right wrist was pushed hastily through one of the red rope ties that constantly adorn our sturdy headboard. Its companion followed soon after.
Snugly restrained, I let him pull the pyjamas from my legs, not expecting him to immediately throw them over my face. I stayed quiet under the fabric that all but obscured my vision. I could have struggled, could have probably tossed it from my face if I’d tried, but I wanted to submit. Crush is, in general, a less kinky sort than me so I delighted in the idea of him taking control, of him living up to what I’m sure is a natural dommishness hidden inside him. When he tries he has a flair of talent, but he doesn’t always feel the desire to try. I loved the idea of him wanting to now.
With my sight mostly blocked I didn’t see him remove his clothes, only realising he had when I saw a dart of skin pass my vision on its way to The Drawers. Pulling something out, he turned his attention to me again, taking the fabric from my face and throwing it casually to one side. He kissed me lovingly yet somewhat forcefully. He tasted good on my lips and tongue.
Suddenly I caught a glimpse of what he’d pulled from the top drawer. He was wielding the ruler again. Seeing I had rumbled his plans he grabbed at my legs, twisting them over themselves so that my bottom half was turned, baring my behind as best as possible.
The ruler came down fast on my cheeks, making me wince and moan and causing sparks of sensation to spring forth inside me. He spanked me hard, my hands tied to the bed and my arse roughly displayed to him. I loved it.
Returning me to splayed-out-on-my-back-helpless mode he put down the ruler and picked up a wicked glint in his eye.
He straddled me, his form naked and towering, his gorgeous hard-as-marble chest taut above me, his swollen cock jutting warmly from his body. It’s a big ol’ thing, so even fully erect it took no more than a slight lean forward from Crush to have it brush downwards against my cool skin. He did so as he placed a hand at each of my nipples and began to pinch. Not to squeeze, not to caress, not to pluck but to pinch. He was hard and rough and remorseless as he pressed my poor nipples into pleasure/pain and me into willing submission.
He kept it up, squeezing and pinching as I began to struggle underneath him. At first I accepted his treatment gladly but now I bucked at the pain being pressed into my aching buds. I turned my face sideways into the pillows and writhed into them. He was being cruel and he was enjoying it. He was enjoying having me wriggle and moan under him, having me helpless against him. I kicked out, wrestling-style, but no ref stepped in to save me and finally all I could do was say “Please…”. Please stop.
I couldn’t take any more. As he released my breasts from his grasp the pain/pleasure turned to a lovely warm ache that made me wish I’d never said anything, that made me sure I could have taken more. I’m glad I didn’t though, because moving on to the next part had its merits.
At least, once he let me, that is.
That’s right. He made me beg. I told you he was a natural, really. He asked me if I wanted him inside me, to which I of course said yes. He told me to beg. “Please,” I said, “please, I want you to fuck me. Fuck me”.
“Louder,” he said. I raised my voice and asked him please to fuck me. “Louder”, he repeated and I spoke loudly. “Louder,” he insisted and I practically shouted out “Please, just fuck me! Please!”
After spending what seemed like an age rubbing his cock over the folds of my pussy, he finally deigned to slip it inside me. By slip, perhaps I mean shove. Good lord, he’s so fucking big sometimes! The first thrust of his sex within mine is always like nothing else. Indescribably divine. I think one day I’m going to have to devote an entire blog post just to trying to describe what it feels like.
He fucked me then. He took me. He drove into me with hard, unforgiving thrusts as I squealed in pleasure and bucked joyfully at my ropes. I could feel the length of his cock slide into me and out with each stroke. He looked like a young god.
Crush placed his hands on my breasts to steady himself as he toiled but then began to pluck at my nipples with his fingertips. I felt the long, slow climb of the rollercoaster near its peak and pleaded with him to squeeze harder, harder. The plunge started and I rattled breath-takingly fast down into the dark, close tunnel of orgasm, my world shrinking to the size of this room, this moment.
He came, neck strained, head back and gasping. When our ride was over he pulled out and I thought that we were done for the time being.
But Crush had other plans. As I lay there still tied to the bed, he reached back into the top drawer, pulled out our Basic love egg and placed it tantalisingly between my legs. He flicked it up to the lowest setting and a small buzz started on my clitoris. As my tension climbed he raised the pace to match and soon the vibrator was on its highest speed. He released my right hand from its rope and gave me the vibrator, instructing me to make myself come with it.
And I did. And I did again. He still held the control box, I merely held the egg, and I knew that he had all the power. He was the one who could make this stop, not me. I was going to hold that little vibe tight to my clit until he deemed it over and turned off the machine.
Soon the buzzing was too much, in a good way. I was wriggling and writhing and moaning and coming again and again. Gorgeous and torturous though this was there was a limit to how much of it I could take. Crush finally relented and turned off the vibe but not before my last orgasm caused me to squirt a little, adding to the sopping mix of his come and mine.
All in all, it was a good hour or so. ;) ♦
♦ The bulge in my girl-boxers looked good, I thought to myself as I lay back on the bed. Strangely natural, well sized and beginning to spread a slight tingling where it was touching skin. Crush began to kiss my face and I not-so-subtly moved his hand down to my newly-acquired package. He hesitated and then, overcoming his reservations for my sake, cupped my false cock under his palm, stroking and rubbing as he’d often felt me do to him.
Despite the obvious lack of actual feedback coming from the limp thing stuffed down my knickers, I thrilled to the barely-felt touch. I kissed him back in earnest and rolled myself half on top of him, pressing myself against him. His fingers moved to deftly undo my bra from underneath my short blue summer dress. He plucked it from me and cupped my breasts in his masculine hands.
When he began to roll down my underwear I suggested he leave it on enough to contain my cock and instead cover my bared behind in blows and blushed skin. Quickly he moved to the second drawer and pulled out three implements, the ruler, the leather strap and my favourite, the shiny red paddle. I turned over onto my front and he rained down strikes on my exposed skin, causing me to yelp and wriggle. His other arm pinned me down, leaning his weight on me at the shoulder blades as I gasped. As usual he had to temper himself a little whilst using the ruler and strap, his strength too easily turning into just-too-hard hits. The paddle, though, was perfect. A flatter, broader strike than the stings of the other two. Soon I imagined my cheeks to look as red as the paddle itself and I begged for him to stop, which he did.
Now I needed him inside me.
My thin summer dress was in complete disarray as he rolled me over onto my front and pulled down my pants, setting my packing cock to one side. My breasts had fallen free from their cover, tickled lightly by the breeze. Crush stripped off his top and trousers, his flesh-and-blood cock standing proud between his legs. He parted my legs and began to rub the wonderful thing over the lips of my sex, rubbing deliciously against me. Though moments ago I was enjoying the make-believe male member of mine, now all I wanted was to dive back into reality and have him inside me.
I cried out as his frankly huge cock entered me, as always still shocked by the size of it, despite more than a year of practice. I fancied it cleaved me near in two as he placed his hands on my shoulders, pinning me to the bed. As he plunged deeper and deeper I managed to wriggle the tips of my fingers to my clitoris and began to stroke myself. I knew we’d both worked ourselves into a frenzy and that it wouldn’t be long before we both exploded into orgasm. As his cock opened me up to the core I began to moan louder and louder.
Soon he was moaning too and my orgasm flared into life. I bucked against his weight and he began to shudder into me, his cock flooding come into me as my climax faded. He collapsed on top of me and we lay there quietly for a while, his weight on me feeling calming and immensely comfortable. ♦
♦ So, er, for those who haven’t managed to keep up with the above, I’ve bought myself a real feel packing penis, more to come on that later. I’ve wanted one for a while and finally got around to getting one. Also, still with Crush and he’s still gorgeous. Hopefully I can keep this whole back-into-blogging thing up. Much thanks and squee to those who missed me. ♦