orgasm control

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I’ve got this new kink for that thing when Pup fucks me while I’m still wet from someone else fucking me. Ever since that night we fucked right after I had sex with Rex for the first time, it’s something I’ve really, really enjoyed.

After Leo left the other day, Pup and I lazed around in bed for a while. He was a little hungover from the night before and I was about ready for a nap, but our fingers defied our bodies’ otherwise insistent exhaustion. I backed up against him and we egged each other on with furtive brushes of fingertips. Before I knew it, he was asking to enter me and I obliged, my pussy wet and ready from his touch and, more likely by how easily he slipped in, from Leo as well.

It made me feel like a sex toy, almost, the fact that my body had yielded so easily to him, the fact that I’d taken someone else not long before. I told him so and he chuckled. “You are, then,” he said as he fucked me in sharp, urgent thrusts. “That’s exactly what you are.”

I felt myself climbing towards orgasm and his hand clamped onto my shoulder, as though to steer me away. “Don’t you cum now,” he murmured against my neck. “Hold back, baby.”

For a bit, I succeeded. Until he reached down between my legs and I felt the muscles in my thighs quake as he stroked my clit. “No,” I protested, my words choked by a gasp. “Why would you…”

Even though he was behind me, I could hear the smirk in his voice. “I want to,” he replied. “So keep holding it.”

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cufflinks-and-handcuffs:

Mr. Deen is an inspiration.

Oh my God the way he just covers her face like that. 

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I have an appointment with the gynecologist today. 

I’m not saying this is how I’d want it to go.

But I certainly wouldn’t complain.

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Sir had me edge myself three times today.

I whined to Flint about it, who then proceeded to make me edge three more times for complaining to him.

If anybody needs me, follow the puddles to where I’ll be pouting for eternity.

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Piss Shy, Part Twelve

Disclaimer: The content of this story is a little bit harsher and a little more intense than most of the experiences I have written about on here. Please keep in mind that I had safe words – “yellow” for slow down or do less, “red” for stop. The things I did were done willingly and enthusiastically, even when I demonstrated reluctant or fearful behavior. I like to be scared and I like to feel psychologically exhausted, and this experience allowed me to tread some harsher waters. So, I hope you’ll stick along for the ride.

Flint had devised the clever and totally mean plan of pitting WRM and I against each other with a little bit of impact play. He started by holding her still, kissing her as he let me hit her ass with a tool that looked like a lot of skewers bundled together.

While I was beating her with it, I got a little cheeky and scolded her for not cutting her nails. “We’ve been out, what, three times?” I reprimanded, “and still – still – you keep your nails that long. You need to clip your fucking nails.”

Of course, I was significantly less cheeky about it once Flint was holding me still while I cried into his chest as WRM beat me. I felt absolutely awful for hitting WRM with it once I knew how much it hurt, but she had been such a sport about it while I was a big baby about taking half of what I’d given her. 

Then, Flint had WRM pin me back down while he aggressively rubbed my g-spot and clit. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push back the oncoming orgasm with just about any neutral, unsexy thought I could summon. “I can’t,” I pleaded, “I don’t want to drink piss, please.”

“You’d better drink a lot of water beforehand,” Macy said from the corner. 

As hard as I tried to hold off, I came. Hard. Flint didn’t relent, continuing to assault my clit and g-spot with his fingers while WRM held me still. “Hey, think you’ll get another tally for each time?” He asked jovially. He wrenched another orgasm out of me before I pleaded with him to stop, my pussy was far too sensitive and tender to continue. 

WRM let me go and I rolled over onto my belly, covering my face with my hands. I started to cry, overwhelmed by the idea that I was probably halfway to drinking a cup of my own urine, hating that I’d secretly enjoyed every second that led up to this, that I even liked the fact that I was facing these consequences. 

corwinprescott:

“Rain on The Morning Bird’s Throat”
Philadelphia, Pa 2014 

Corwin Prescott – Nicole Vaunt – Anastasia Arteyeva

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Sweetheart gets incentives for good work.

It’s great work that lets her follow through, though.

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Overwhelmed, Part Ten

I was a little delirious as the two worked me over with their fingers and mouths. The whole time, Sir held me, which helped a little bit in helping me to ground myself in what was happening.

I came once and they kept going, despite my little whines that I had finished and I was getting tender. I came again, exclaiming that it kind of hurt, even if it did feel good.

The two smirked at each other over me and Sir held me still while he and SG forced me to cum a few more times until I was squirming and whining and begging them to just let me rest.

I know, my life is really, really hard sometimes.

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I was talking dirty on the phone with Sir this afternoon and I couldn’t find my vibrator. He thought it was hilarious that I weighed the possibility that he had taken it with him or hidden it. You know, to curb certain behaviors.

(He hadn’t. Yet.)

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Being a Brave Girl, Part Three

Sir returned and pulled me up to my feet, bringing me over to the bed. He kissed me and had me lie down while he took out a neatly coiled length of rope. "I thought all the rope was at my place,“ I pouted when he pushed my legs back, essentially folding me up. He pulled my arms around my legs and tied my hands together, forcing me to hold the position.

"Well, I saved some,” he chuckled and kissed me softly. 

Taking me by the hair, he turned my head and buried my face in his cock. I accepted it eagerly, sucking him until he was hard enough to fuck me. 

It’s kind of crazy how much you can miss someone’s cock. In your mouth, inside of you. But I’d been masturbating for the past month and literally missing the way it felt. 

We fucked hungrily. I kept kissing him. I wanted so badly to touch his face and I needed so desperately to get him closer. And, yeah, all the denial had made me pretty needy.

When I had to cum, I started begging.

“Oh yeah?” He teased, “you need to cum?”

“Uh huh,” I exclaimed, “please?”

Without any warning, he pulled out and stepped back from me, smirking. I practically shrieked, squirming in my bonds and kicking my feet. Of course he wasn’t going to make this easy.