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Sasha Grey is the patron saint of eyefucks.
sasha grey
I’ve gotten several messages asking about the difficulties of nipple piercings after my last post. I’ll say this: the level of maintenance and pain vary from person to person. (Listen to your piercer, don’t be afraid to ask him/her questions.)
I will say the most difficult aspect of mine was the fact that I had to learn how to sleep on my back. I’ve been a stomach-sleeper forever, which is basically not an option when they’re healing. Now, I can doze off there just fine, but that was after a lot of efforts of being crammed between a person and the wall so I had no room to roll over, having limbs thrown over me, and yeah, being tied to the bed once or twice.
Submitted by nankingdecade.
Sir and I have a running joke for whenever he gets sick about a little somebody named Nurse Kitty. She’s not very good at her job, but she’s got a knack for making people feel good.
Oh fucking hell.
I was leaving Pup’s place one night when he grabbed hold of my coat and – intentionally, as to irritate me – buttoned it askew. Huffing, I undid the buttons.
“Do it again,” I said.
He shook his head, “do it yourself.” I pouted, twisting one of my legs and shooting him some puppy eyes. He sat down on the end of his bed and chuckled. “You’re cute, do it yourself.”
“My Daddy buttons my coat for me,” I said, brushing my knees against his.
His hand shot up: palm overwhelming my face, fingers burrowing into the hinges of my jaw. I stumbled back and he pushed me against the wall. “I’m not your Daddy, you little bitch,” he snarled in my ear before releasing me. “Now button up your coat.”
A year ago, Sir and I tried to have anal. Key word: tried.
Sir had engaged in anal in the past, but I never had. I also had the kind of interest in it that stopped at fantasy. I considered it a soft limit. It wasn’t something I sought out, though every so often I would stop on it in a porn and think “damn.”
I consented to trying it with Sir because I knew how much he liked it and I enjoyed the idea of doing that with him. But, I was really anxious about it. I was worried I would make a mess (I’d heard a few horror stories), I was worried it would hurt, I was worried I would hate it. I also found the invasiveness of it – though super sexy – a little triggering.
We tried an enema one afternoon and I was completely triggered by it. I kicked him out of the bathroom and expelled it on my own, then wound up crying. He took care of me afterwards, but I wound up reacting out of trauma and turning the situation to blame him for “making” me do it. He hadn’t, but I’ve come to recognize these are the kinds of trauma responses I have.
Another time, we tried anal sex and I got so anxious I clenched my sphincter right as he was trying to enter me. Even though he’d made sure to warm me up a lot, it still hurt like crazy because I’d clenched. And, once again, I got super upset and somehow blamed him for making it do that.
Sir was incredibly patient with me, and we had a long talk about why I was being triggered. He held me and promised that he wouldn’t bring the subject up anymore.
But over the past year we’ve both eased into the idea of it, and I’ve also grown to trust him more deeply than I ever thought possible. So, when he came to visit back in August, we tried again.
This time, I relaxed through the enema. He was patient with me. I let him stay in the bathroom with me the whole time and we shared in the pride of how calm I’d stayed.
Even though I was still incredibly anxious about it, I let myself relax and trust that Sir would take care of me. He was experienced in this. He went slow, tried a few positions, and when we finally had a comfortable momentum, I caught myself smiling. “We did it, babe,” I kept saying, getting used to the feeling of him inside me. I was swelling with joy over the fact that this had turned out to be this really amazing bonding experience which I guess isn’t the first thing you think of when you consider anal, but that’s what this was for us.
So what’s the secret to anal sex? I don’t know, I think it’s trust. And probably a lot of lube, too.
Overwhelmed, Part Six
The Southern Gentleman hauled me up to my feet and over to the middle of the room. I stumbled along, having a little trouble finding my footing after having been stuck on my knees.
“Can I have the clamps off? Please?” I asked. The pain had started to mount, and I knew that it would hurt like crazy once they came off, but I wasn’t sure how long I could handle having them on.
SG held me still while Sir traced the pads of his fingers over my trapped nipples. “Does it hurt, sweetheart?” He teased. I nodded eagerly. Slowly, he removed the clamps one by one and set the chain aside. I cried out, squirming in SG’s arms, my eyes welling up.
As soon as the clamps were off, Sir tugged down the front of the lingerie I was wearing until it was stopped by the cuffs on my wrists. “Let’s get her out of this,” he said, While Sir undid the cuffs, SG held onto my hair and kissed me roughly. Once the cuffs were off, Sir began yanking it down as SG tipped me from one side to the other to allow the bundle of mesh to come off of my legs.
I was left only in my fishnets, wedged between the two of them as they manhandled my now naked body. Fingers probed into my mouth, forced me onto my toes as they hooked into my cunt. I wasn’t surprised to feel how easily they had slipped inside of me, I had assumed that I was already wet.
One of them shoved me over to the futon and I knelt down on it. Sir walked over and grabbed me by the hair, sliding his cock in my mouth. I sucked, watching out of the corner of my eye as SG approached the futon as well.
Some more James Deen and Sasha Grey action. Yes, James, please put something into her mouth!!!
Razordoll scene at www.worldofjamesdeen.com
I went out last night to a bar with some people in my graduate cohort. On the way home, I texted Sir to let him know I was headed to bed.
“Did any guys try to hit on you?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I answered, “three.”
I was a bit surprised when he texted me back with, “mmmm so hot.”
“That’s hot to you?” I asked, “how is that hot to you?”
“Yeah, guys drooling over my girl,” he replied.
We both kind of get turned on by possessiveness and infidelity. Naturally, it’s not really one of those fantasies you can really do to the hilt, but we talk about it a lot.
I smirked and texted, “one called me sweetie. Like, ‘hey there, sweetie.’”
“Mmm, what an asshole.”
“You love that.”
He called me a pervert. I insisted he was more of one. And so he called me a filthy little girl and a floozy.
“I am not,” I answered as I walked in the door and set my bag down, “I didn’t flirt back.”
“I know. You’re a good girl.”
“Oh yeah?” I teased, “So assured I wouldn’t cheat?”
I’m sincerely glad I’ve found someone just about as fucked up as I am, who isn’t judgmental about some really absurdly messed up fantasies I have.
