Berlin story. Part One

I've been looking forward to Berlin for a while, after the kink and companionship that Ten and I had over Christmas, when he came to spend time with my family. I like the city and it's always had a kinky connection for me, so being able to spend it with him was going to be a BDSM filled romantic weekend.

We met in a coffee shop under the Fernsehturm, finding no spare seat he knelt without question on the hard floor, smiling up at me with his big puppy eyes and kissing my hand, telling me that I am beautiful, that I was missed and how much he is looking forward to spending a weekend serving me. I smile wide and my heart rises up, warm. Kink can often make you feel as if you are living in your own secret world, that other people don't know about. The knowing glances, the inflection in the things you say, the way you hold hands and deliberately clutch fingers too tight. He winces, his eyes sparkle and he grins.


We walked out into the eastern side of the city, neon lights cutting through the cold night. I felt happier than I had in a while, and a little light headed, full of all the things I planned to do to him. We talk, catch up and


I take him back to the hotel and he goes to shower and shave. He knows I like him better smooth. I strip down and lie back on the bed, reading a book and waiting for him. There is a small bag of kit on a nearby chair. I'm deliberately keeping each item a secret until I need it. I run a finger experimentally over my clit and inside my cunt, knowing that I'm wet already but enjoying the thought of satisfaction of what is to come.


He comes through from the shower, absent mindedly applying lotion to his cock and balls where its been stripped of hair. He catches me watching and laughs, a short, slight burst of not exactly embarrassment. I beckon him over and apply some menthol paste to the tip of his exposed cock, watching his face bloom into surprise. I pull him down onto the bed and lie back as he covers my skin with kisses. His mouth and tongue are soft and wet, each kiss a small act of submission. Every now and then his eyes flicker up from under long black lashes to check whether I still approve. He moves his mouth down over my stomach before settling between my thighs to lap at my clit. I can feel the delicate strokes, exactly as I have taught him and I murmur "good boy" whilst lightly stroking is cheek. I lie back and let him bring me to a shuddering orgasm.


When I'm done, I reach over to kiss him, tasting myself on his lips, before pushing him down onto his front and blindfolding him. With his eyes gone, his sensitivity is heightened, but confused. He relies heavily on his sight to process sensation, he's a voyeur and I suspect that viewing acts is important to his ability to feel them, in a strange way. I enjoy putting him into challenging spaces, taking away his usual certainties.


I take my time - we have a whole weekend ahead of us, after all - and begin by slowly pushing lubed plastic thai beads one by one inside him. A hand in the centre of his back, alternating firm pressure and flickering scratches. I watch his mouth for reactions, the parted lips which groan lightly every time I press another bead inside him. Eventually, he is full enough, for now. I focus on his back, twisting and pulling at his flesh as he hisses and whimpers. But each time a smile returns back to his face. I smooth down the skin over each bruise or cut as it flushes pink, then red. I like to layer sensation over sensation, balancing the pressure inside him, with the sharp pain of my nails, with the spreading warmth of the menthol on his cock. Encouraging him to breathe I pull out the beads one by one then begin the press a wide glass plug against him, his back twinges as he arches away from me.


"I can't do it, it's too much."


He's gasping for air, disorientated and slightly panicked. I take of the blindfold and roll him over so I can hold him until he calms down. His breathing subsides a little and between kisses I check that his is feeling better. His lack of sight along with his own inexperience meant that any new sensation leaves him feeling unprepared and more likely to scare. Eventually he comes back to himself and as I stroke him, his cock hardens against my stomach.


It's time to fuck him. I slide a condom onto his stiff cock and roll him onto his back. I put him inside me and ride him, slowly at first, checking his responses, he grips my hips and thrusts against me. I know he wants to come badly. I want to take a little time. Fucking is always better post orgasm, the tissue around and inside my cunt is more sensitive. His cock feels smooth inside me, the lube on the condom and my own wetness. I hold his arms down and watch as he stares up at me, his mouth moves and he starts to moan "fuck" over and over again, seemingly without realising. He comes hard, I can feel the orgasm push up and out from his body.


When he's done I lie on his chest and stroke him as we both cool into our sweat and onto the white, once-pristine sheets of the hotel room. He is unable to speak for some time, and his legs shake so I cover us both with a duvet and wait until he has returned to himself. He looks at me with an almost sheepish expression.


"This is going to sound silly," he gives a small laugh, "but when you hurt me, you make me feel special."


Because he is, to me.