I hiiiiighly recommend the full video this comes from.
It’s one of those things I only watched this past year but still consider “formative."
touch
Piss Shy, Part Seven
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 the girls try to hold me down, but I was inevitably and usually able to throw them off from a combined force of the absolute distress of being tickled and the fact that I was thankfully stronger. It turned into a repeated process of the girls trying to hold me down, Flint tickling me, and me throwing them off and curling up into a ball until they succeeded in pinning me back down or Flint ordered me to hold still.
Eventually, Flint had Lida crawl up on top of me and kiss me while he beat her with something. As I was blindfolded, I couldn’t tell what. Lida kissed cutely, shyly. Her mouth was small and her lips pursed like a guppy’s. I reached up, running my hands over her back and shoulders, pulling her to me each time I felt her jump from the beating.
“Now come on, Ivy, you’re here to entertain us. Touch yourself,” Flint said as Lida climbed off of me. “And be careful. Your owner said you couldn’t cum."
I laid back and rubbed my pussy, thankful for the blindfold that allowed me to at least pretend I wasn’t being watched by a roomful of people. Lida and Macy were still touching me, idly discussing things like lingerie and shopping. But, after a little while, I realized I had to use the bathroom.
"Hey, ah…WRM? Flint?” I called out.
“Not here,” Lida replied, “in the other room.”
“Well, can you get them?” I asked, “I…um…I have a pee.”
“Kind of scared to move,” Macy admitted, “we’re not supposed to…” She thought for a moment, “you can go over there, they’re just in the next room. Just, ah, crawl over.”
After banging my head on a corner, I managed to make my way to the door. I knocked on the door before hearing it swing open.
“Yes?” Flint asked.
I bit my lip. “I…ah…I have to pee.”
And this was where the trouble started.
So I did something really, really brave and kind of nuts last night with some cool people from the munch I went to last week.
I’ve got kind of a crazy story to tell, if I ever get up the nerve to tell it.
I stayed up late last night talking to Sir about a really dark, scary fantasy I’ve got. And it wasn’t even that he reciprocated interest in it that got me, it was the fact that he was patient and affectionate about it. He reassured me that, yeah, I’m a little sick, but it’s in a good way and these fantasies are perfectly okay within the context of a consensual, respectful, loving relationship, where eventually the “scene” stops and there’s plenty of aftercare.
Have I mentioned that I have the best owner ever?
So, I had a great time last night.
Somebody’s a really bad/kind of the best influence. I did something kinda naughty and kinda got caught.
Maybe I’ll tell you about it.
“I can never think of you as a friend. You can do without a friend,” – Graham Greene, The End of the Affair.
He gets a little cocky when he’s mixing drinks. He’s in a different element.
I won’t even pretend for a second that I don’t like that.
So, I realize even though I’ve told you some stuff about my adventures with Woody, I really haven’t told you all that much about him and what’s still going on there.
He’s back in my old city. We get along really, really well, even though sometimes his inner straight white boy shows. But, he’s really sweet and funny, and I would be lying if I said he didn’t eat pussy like a champ.
He and I text every so often and go on Skype, and recently we had a talk about sort of what we are and how to proceed with long distance secondaryship, what our needs are, etc. I don’t know. It’s good now and I guess it’ll be good until it isn’t?
Oddly, he’s kind of into a very basic sort of kink, and I’m most interested in him and attracted to him when our clothes on and we’re just talking. Which is not to say that we don’t do really well with our clothes off, as well. But, it’s this strange kind of dynamic where I can talk to him for three hours about mutual interests and it feels like we’ve only been talking for five minutes, and the actual sexual interaction isn’t nearly as stimulating as that sort of stuff is.
It’s the gentleness of it that really gets me.
Sometimes I miss the days when you’d come over and we’d keep our clothes on. When you’d rub me through my shorts until I leaked right through them because within a few minutes we were helplessly skirting the boundaries we’d set.
Those were the days when you brought over a six pack to keep at my place because I didn’t have beer to offer you, when you left your hat behind so I hid it and wouldn’t give it back. It was a time when we were doing little things like that in an attempt to articulate power with each other, in an attempt to understand how intimate we were allowed to be.
We weren’t even sure who was making the rules at that point. But, usually, we broke them.