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The online diary of an ethical pervert.

Thursday, 1 April 2010


Captain and I managed to meet up last night for some much-needed mutual stress relief. I am always amazed how good the world looks on the other side of a decent fuck: I'm grinning and swaggering down the road in yesterday's clothes with some new red marks on my wrists. The world exploded in springtime pathetic fallacy, skies going from the rainclouds of twenty-four hours earlier to sunshine, blue overhead and pink cherry blossom lined roads. Not trying to suggest that the power of my sexuality has weather changing properties, but that with one thing and another, the world is looking like a better place. Captain is onboard with attempting a D/s scenario that suits us both and takes into account schedules and the mutual desire for both of us to play with other people.

And I have content. Am content. Good thoughts of last night.

I take my clothes off and lie face down on the bed as instructed. I rest my head on my crossed arms, smelling clean sheets. I close my eyes. I often prefer not to see what's going on, enjoying not-knowing, the tang of anticipation. Absorbing it all. He fits a metal spider gag in my mouth, there's the sharp taste of steel, the pleasing sensation of being strapped in. I play with it a little with my tongue and teeth, experimenting with how much space I can occupy, what is open and what is closed. To me and to him. Obviously, I can't close my mouth, but the gag is not especially wide and fairly comfortable, I still have a lot of movement with my lips and jaw. I rest my head back on my arms and wait for the first drops of saliva. Relishing it when it comes, those cold gobbets of myself, falling out of my control. I love that moment, like a small release of self.

His body presses on mine. He's clothed, smelling as much of cotton as the sheets. Hands run over me whilst he does this, smooth over my skin, my bottom, legs, shoulders. A pause to grab my breasts and press against the piercings. I wriggle a little, contentedly, it feels good to be touched. To be taken.
Rope goes around my ankles, and my legs are bent towards my head, the rope pulled taut and bound at the top of the bed at a bit of an angle. Rope too, around my wrists, wound around several times to form secure bonds then my arms are stretched back behind me, tied off at the foot of the bed. I'm splayed out, cunt open, back arched, bottom raised a little to compensate for the pull on my limbs. I hear the rustle of plastic, and rubber-coated fingers press into my cunt, I push back against them, eager for the sensation. He plays with my clit for a moment or so and I moan gratefully, before pausing to spit on my arsehole, then rub the moisture in with cunt-lubed fingers. It's a hotter, tighter feeling, but no less needed. The spit sends a shudder through me, as practical as it is dehumanising, a bit rough and ready, without fuss.

Which is how he fucks me. Cunt first, pressing deep so I gasp, quiet first, then louder yelps as he takes what he wants, as much as he wants. And I want him so much for it. A pause whilst he pulls out. His cock pushes against my arsehole and he whispers a warning in my ear before fucking hard. I shriek, loving the intensity, the force of him, relishing the deep, broad notes of pain, of pleasure of pain that becomes pleasure and vice-versa. After a while, he stops. Moves away.

A smell fills the air, menthol. I open one eye, curious. A tube of deep heat. Then I start to worry. He presses something hard and rubber inside my arse. I don't feel the cream instantly, it takes a moment or two, and I'm distracted by the inflation of the plug penetrating me. The pleasant sensation of fullness starts to become uncomfortable, swollen, unnatural. Then the spreading warmth. That curious cold heat of menthol. It's just on the good side of stinging, like into a too-hot bath, or a spicy curry - an intensity that raises the stakes without really causing pain. I settle into it. He turns off the lights. I wait in the dark.

I imagine myself being found like this, constrained yet exposed. In the middle of use, but left for whatever reason. An unattended object, waiting to be fucked. I smile, crooked against the gag. The lights go on and he comes around to my face, pushing his cock into my open mouth. I suck and lick him contentedly, happy to please, an oral thank-you. Another hole filled. Another wedge of satisfaction. A bit more fucked. He moves back to my cunt, using me until he comes, then wrapping his arms around me, done. I mumble a "thank you" through my open mouth, another grin.

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