I always had what I would describe as a “thing” for being dominant. But I could never fully put myself into it. I would occasionally smack my hubs with the crop but it was normally a laughing matter. Not really to be taken seriously. I eventually decided my horse crop and flogger needed to touch flesh, for real. I’ve written about this before, how my hubs eventually got into doing these things. But I just now realized, it was for me. Yes, I asked him to act a certain way, to hit me with objects, but I didn’t command him to do it.
I ran across a blog post, http://delvingintodeviance.wordpress.com/2011/06/03/the-devaluation-of-male-submission/. Something that was said struck me:
I love pain. It makes me come. I instruct him in exactly what kind of pain I like and how to administer it, just as I tell him exactly how I want him to lick my cunt or finger me. I tell my submissive to do something that makes me come, and he does it. Exterior trappings or individual acts are not what make dominance and submission. It is the connection, the control; one person leading another on a journey of trust and intimacy. I am the one who leads.
Since “I am the one who leads” in those situations in my life, does that make me the dominant? Even though he is “acting” as one?
I haven’t written about one of the last times we pulled a prop out. It was my flogger, and I am pretty sure he was the one who said to get it. But once it was out, I instructed him what to do.
He was to hit and tease me with it, while I played with myself. I also wanted him to tell me to do things and if I said ‘no’, to hit me with the flogger. This worked incredible, my skin pink, from excitement and the lingering of leather to flesh. I came incredibly hard as the flogger continuously fondled and stung me.
After, he shoved his cock into my face and said “Suck my dick.”
Wanting to follow through on our plan, I looked him straight in the face, “No.”
Then he broke! He sheepishly nodded and said, “Okay.”
I got irritated- “What the fuck? You are supposed to tell me I have to. And hit me if I balk.”
He slipped back into dominant mode and did as I had instructed him. This was incredible, albeit slightly unreal because I knew he was really having to think about what was happening, not just doing.
So here’s my source of pondering, am I the dominant one? The line is too blurry for me to see clearly.
As a recent, yet avid, listener of Dan Savage’s podcast “Savage Love”, I heard him mention a book several times. I picked it up from Amazon after reading a Kindle sample.
After reading it, I felt I had to mention it, as some of my like-minded bloggers might want to check it out. I learned so many things that I knew nothing about, and really made me expand my mind on the things I thought I knew. I have already discussed the book with some of my close friends/husband. It definitely gets things perked up in a conversation.
I’ve discovered recently that since I write about my fantasies, I get a little out of control while masturbating. It’s like the scene is being written out in my head as I fondle myself. Sometimes I lose a little pleasure because my mind is working over drive on how I want the fantasy to be.
Is he on top of me and I’m grabbing his hair? Or is it the opposite?
Is he fucking her, oblivious to me watching? Or is he watching me, me not noticing him?
Where are we at? In the car? At a house?
See how this gets confusing for me? Scenes shifting rapidly, so it ends up being totally disjointed. It’s okay to let yourself run wild, that’s what fantasies are for. I just need to learn how to not analyze so much. I may just be a freak. Anyone else have this issue?
Image via : Fuck the Sex
*This might end up being the most explicit post I’ve written on here, you are forewarned.*
I was double penetrated last night. No, no, not the DP most would think of. I was DP’ed in the pussy. I’m not exactly sure how I heard of this, but somehow I did. From that my obsession grew. I’ve watched porn where a woman takes two men into her pussy, and how I longed to experience it. I had casually mentioned it to the hubs, (however casual that can be brought up ) and he had almost brushed it off. Pretty much in the vein that it would never happen, so I might as well forget it.
So.. Yesterday morning, I had said to him, “I want DP. Dr. Pepper and double penetration.” Dissolving into laughter at his expression. Somehow this was brought up again last night, and I decided to educate him by showing him some porn. The only I could find was MFM, but figured, what the hey, let’s just get him used to that idea. This was only a five and a half minute video, and around four minutes in, he was gung ho.
“Go get your dildo.” He practically commanded me.
Once dildo was obtained, sufficiently lubed, and me on my knees, we figured out the logistics of the situation. I won’t lie, being filled beyond belief by a cock of exceptional girth, plus a normal (but on the small side girth wise) dildo, was slightly painful at first. It was an odd mixture, pain + pleasure. Confused I almost asked him to stop, but I decided to be patient.
Thank goodness I did. It was fucking incredible. Orifices of me barely explored were tingling with sensation. While I’m sure it was definitely different than two actual cocks, at least I got a little taste of the possibility. I am now wondering, when can I get it again? And where might this lead? Hopefully somewhere orgasmic..
The other people in the room were slipping out the door, after thirty minutes of torment and months of control, I finally lost myself. Looking him straight in the eye, the words dropped out before I could stop myself, “I want..”
Pausing from fear, unsure. He looked at me, curious of what I was trying to say. I licked my lips and tried again, “I want, to tell you something. Though maybe I shouldn’t.”
His head made a slight nod, “You can tell me.”
In the space of that sentence he had moved towards me. My fingers fidgeted, heart thumping, stomach clenching. “I dreamt of you last night.”
“What was I doing?”
“I barely remember, just that you and I were in your truck.”
Certain there was more than that, his fingertips brushed my cheek, sliding to tuck the hair behind my ear. He bent slightly, his mouth close to my ear. “I have a secret. Can I trust you?”
“Yes.” The words coming out on a whisper, ruffling his hair with my breath. A strong hand settled above my hip, our bodies almost touching. I stood boneless and still, anticipating his words, imagining that his eyes were flecked with fire.
“I want you. Badly. Underneath me, face to face. Heated skin, losing your breath.”
Pangs of desire flowed throughout my body, my hands gripping his shoulders. Wanting to respond and not able to find the words. His thumb stroked my side, the rest of his fingers digging in. His lips pressed just below my ear, onto my jaw, until we were looking right at each other.
“But we don’t have time for that today do we? We will.” With that promise he pulled me against him, lips searing mine, tongues searching, bodies aching.
Friday night we had family over, then Saturday all went to the lake together. I decided to wear a bikini, and ended up feeling overly sexy. The cut of my top showing my cleavage perfectly, my bottoms cupping my ass low, my little back dimples on display. The hubs obviously picked up on the flirtatious look on my face, breasts taunting him as we left the beach and family behind. Laughing at the burning hot sand under my feet, we were both breathless as we hopped into the car. Windows rolled down, music turned up, he reached out and pulled my breasts out of my top. Pinching my nipples, caressing my breasts as he drove. Ever the gentleman, he asked if I wanted to stop somewhere. Even around the hubs I have a tendency to be coy, murmuring ‘Sure’. Amped up, my bikini bottoms feeling slightly damp, I held my composure till he motioned to where we’d stop. Right under a railroad viaduct, the highway visible. He turned the car off right at the edge of the opening, so we’d be blocked from the sun, but not completely closed in. We both got out and he came around to the passenger’s side, pushing me against the side of the car, kissing me full on the mouth. I pushed my bottoms down, he turned me around, leaning into the car. His hands latched onto my hips as he drove into me. I met the rhythm, pushing back and forth with him. My cheek rubbing the hot metal of my hood, the sounds of my mouth echoing in the concrete enclosure. He unhooked the back of my top, my nipples slightly burning on the heat. Then told me to get on my back. I hopped up, him grabbing my thighs and pulling me to the very edge of the car. My head tossed in both directions, watching the cars speed past on the highway, the other direction nothing but dirt road. My ankles on his shoulders, legs straight up. I moaned until he lost control, taking every ounce of me he could. Fingers digging into my legs, a ragged sigh escaped. We both took a while to recover, back in the car, a/c cooling our bodies, our whole beings euphoric.
I stood in the opposite row of shelves to him. Leaving me only the sight of his jaw through the cracks. I pondered if I could slip my hand through and lightly run my index finger across the bristled skin. I was left bereft in wondering if his eyes were turning my way also. Stock still I stayed even as I watched him move away for the opening, his body stalled blocking my way out, my stomach fluttered and clenched. The slight sound of his boots getting closer, my lips parting, panties damp. A piece of hair fell onto my face, making a crescent moon around my eye, as I looked up at him. Body so close I could smell his cologne, with one small move his belt buckle pressed into my stomach, cold and hard against my thin dress and feverish body. His mouth met mine in the urgency of the moment, hands reaching up my dress. His fingers pushed my panties to the side, the evidence of my desire slick on his swirling fingertips. I clutched the side of his shirt in my fist, caressing him over his pants with my other hand. Our arms rubbing against another in the frantic need. Both knowing it wasn’t the moment to completely satiate our wants, taking what we could right then. I shuddered against his body, meeting his tongue with mine one last time. His lips pressed mine in a chaste kiss as his hand fell away from under my dress. Face flushed, I took my things and left with one last smile over my shoulder at the door..
The hubs told me last week about a conversation he had with an old friend. It centered around his life, and how things were. The thing that stood out the most to me, and caused me to gaze at him open-mouthed was when he said, “I told her that I did the exact opposite of what I normally would have. I found someone who wasn’t a ‘bad girl’.” He then looks to my odd expression and says, in all seriousness, “I would have never dated someone like you.”
I’ve been perplexed by this statement ever since. Yes, I am not one to want to party all the time. But other than that, I would say I am not necessarily living a conventional existence, well not in my head at least. He knows a little of my fantasies, and certain sexual proclivities. When he and I met, I was in my sexual heyday, allowing myself to go after what I wanted, even if it was just a one night stand. And as a friend before becoming my lover, he knew of my exploits.
Sadly I didn’t pursue this topic, just sitting in shock. He did add, “But then you introduced me to toys, so maybe I was a little off..” I guess I am a lady in public, freak in private.
The hubs has become more comfortable with his sexual dominance over me. A few nights ago, he instructed me to move to the end of the Zeppelin, legs slightly spread, face to the floor. He moved onto my legs, so that he was sitting on me, and pounded ruthlessly. My cheek rubbed into the rug, my elbows tried to hold myself in place, but it was a lost cause. He put one hand onto my shoulder blade, forcing me to keep position. The mix of the angle he was penetrating me, with the sheer intensity of his lust, caused me to scream out over and over. Only stopping to try and catch my breath a few times, I’m lucky my neighbors are apparently oblivious to my loudness. This was exactly what I have been craving, him losing himself, becoming a creature of need.
*This is the longest story I have, and it’s cut down quite a bit.*
Night was barely falling in the hot dry heat of my hometown. I was relieved that I had put on a sundress at the last moment before leaving my parent’s spare bedroom. The slight breeze tickled my cleavage and wafted into the open skirt of the navy blue dress, dotted with tiny flowers in shades of gray and blue. I was only visiting a week, and had run into an old friend, Tom, who immediately invited me to a barbeque at his house. I was a little unsure, considering it had been 8 years since I had last seen any of the people that would be there.
Familiar faces swirled about me, asking questions on my life, job, etc. Tom helping me remember everyone and trying to include me in the conversations. There was one man there, I did not recognize, and he appeared to be a friend of everyone. I stared, trying to place him, only barely concealed by the glass I held to my mouth. I took him in completely, jeans, sky blue button down shirt, cap, boots. I could see his sideburns were a light reddish color, a weeks worth of beard across his jaw and square chin. His smile was wide and infectious. I stepped out of the throng of people surrounded me, his eyes finally finding mine. The smile wavered a little, before he put it firmly back in place. He dislodged from his group some, coming closer to me. I set my glass on the railing of the deck, I felt him approach, prickles of apprehension racking my body. When I turned to face him, I still couldn’t figure out who he was. All I knew was the attraction pulsing within me, urging me to smile and tuck a strand of chestnut hair behind my ear.
“Could I get one of those?” He motioned to the cigarette in my hand.
“Sure.” Still smiling, composure waning, as I passed it to him, fingers brushing. The cigarette between his lips, one hand cupping the end. The flame lit and made his face more visible. I knew him somehow… I stood in a stupor as he took the first drag, then flicked the ash.
“How have you been Quinn?”
My forehead pinched as my eyes looked at him curiously.
“I’m sorry, I just can’t seem to place you. I feel as if I should, but my mind is a little weak at the moment.” I tipped my head to indicate the cold glass beside me.
“Wow, what a bitch you are still. It’s Matthew. Matt.” His smile was gone, instead two hard lines of lips pressed together.
“Seriously? Call me a bitch, when I never did a thing to you. You’ve only treated me with disgust since I met you.” My jaw had dropped at his admission. I couldn’t believe this man I had been lusting over all night, was Matt. Or Matthew now apparently. I felt fifteen again, cowering under his cruelty. I walked away, into the house and closed the bathroom door.