A lull in proceedings had prompted our minds to wander. Food had been eaten and speeches read aloud, the conversation focus was away from us.

I think we should go back to our hotel room and fuck.

His warm breath spread over and in through my hair to my ear as his words pressed themselves into my thoughts that were immediately destined for a filthier path. My eyes flew to the others on my table, darting to see if my expression of bursting glee from Mister’s suggestion had been picked up by anyone. I have the worst poker face in the world when it comes to dirty thoughts. All were locked in their own small talk and chit-chat: how beautiful she looked in the dress; wasn’t the bridesmaid doing such a great job; oh the food was simply divine. We were safe.

I nodded my assent to Mister and, standing, I drew him up to join me with my hand leading the way across the room to the lobby. I was convinced that my calm sashay was doing the job of casual meandering and not making my beeline to the hotel bedroom too obvious.

We were across the hall directly opposite the Bridal Suite but what we were about to indulge in was far from sanctified. Closing the heavy door behind us, my arms instantly locked themselves around his shoulders to move in for a kiss. His hands swept down my sides over the sleek material of my dress. He would later say how amazing my arse felt through the silken fabric. Lips brushed together lightly for a moment before the urgency kicked in, the hunger for each other overwhelming us both to be echoed in the manner of our embrace.

Releasing my hands from his neck, they slipped up under his suit jacket. The warmth of his skin through the shirt was comforting and as ever thrilling. To feel the solid presence of Mister under my hand made me giddy. He was busy with his hands as usual, lifting the skirt of my dress up and caressing my arse, the knickers soon to be eased down my legs to step out of. A hand pressed firmly onto my cunt and a sudden flash of worry of any stains being left on the dress was quickly abandoned when the rush of sensation and an escaped gasp made me leave the cares behind. To steady myself I clutched onto his shoulder and raked fingers through his hair – shorter from a recent haircut. A lack of hair to pull at so the focus turned to the light clawing over his head.

Still standing, I began to sway and my knees wanted to buckle as his fingers worked on my clit. He was being so direct, dipping one then two fingers into me, my juices slick over him, feeling every jolt and shudder around his hand. I needed more. I tugged at his belt and frustration flooded through me. The suit’s unfamiliar trousers hindered the tricky belt clasp I was used to and that, coupled with the fact he was fiddling me to distraction didn’t help the whole hand-eye coordination. Temporarily thwarted, I turned around and sat him on the edge of the king-size bed to stand over him, my legs playing with his knee and thighs. Lifting a leg, I trailed my knee along his inner thigh so carefully, so delicately. I liked the subtle threat underlying this movement. One deliberate jolt and he could end up in a world of pain, were I so inclined. Another kiss, instead to reassure him, I leaned forward, giving him a good view of my cleavage, his eyes locked on my chest. I liked this objectification from him. I laid a hand on his erection through his trousers; the heat, the hardness spurred me on to deepen the warm kiss, my tongue tingling over the inside of his top lip in that way that makes him breathe out in a tickled smile.

At once I spun around to undress in front of him, slipping the sleek dress over my head to stand in just my bra. Stepping back to him, he reached into it to seek out my nipple fondling and kissing the top of my breasts. I helped him by unclasping the new and unfamiliar bra for him to allow him to immediately suck and bite and kiss the stiff nipple, left first as always then the right breast. A favourite sight for me, to look down from my upright vantage point to see Mister lost in his pleasure. My head was completely swimming now, intoxicated from both the alcohol previously consumed and now with the lust roaring through my body.

It was time to swing it to kinkier things. He took hold of a handful of my hair and pulled me down to the bed over his knee, delivering three quick spanks, eliciting two gasps and a small yelp with the third. His aim was slightly off with his own imbibing of the day but I didn’t care. I lost myself to him. Clutching at the pristine sheets, the hotel bed throw, anything I could dig my nails into to counter his sudden change of direction. Another favourite image flicked into my mind, the thrill of being spanked by a clothed man. Ending as soon as he started, he all but picked me up and tossed me to the side of the bed to spring up and join me in the nudity. I watched as he undresses, the tireless image of his body. I will never find it a bore. It was my turn to grab at his skin now as he came back to me, pressing my breasts to him.

We knelt together, facing one another, my knees spread either side of his. Trapped as he held me tightly to his chest. I knew his game was to make me squirm even further as his hand worked on my cunt. He wanted the satisfaction of making me cry out, the sign when he knows he has me utterly, that I have lost all care for those surrounding me on the other side of the wall. He was soon the victor in this battle of stamina as my plaintive yelps turned to longer, lower moans making my head droop and lull only to be drawn sharply back with his directing hand lost in my hair to maintain that steely glare he pinned me with. I kissed him fiercely now on his mouth, down his neck, and onto his shoulder; my teeth playing their own part in this game of his. He knew the rules, that I have my own tactics and this victor he wished to be had to earn his spoils.

We shifted towards the headboard, although it was more of a wide wooden panel attached to the wall the mattress was push against. Kneeling facing it with him behind me we espied one another in the wide, wall-length mirror to the side. What a sight, the pair of us. My hair mussed and my eyes half closed, a loose smile on my face; him pressed tightly into my back, his mouth nibbling at my ear with his arms wrapped around my body, one hand on a breast and the other playing a tremolo on my clit. Bliss.

Time for that fuck, I thought. After all, it had been playing in my head since he whispered that carnal proposal of his own design.

How do you want me?

I want You. Place your arms on that ledge of the headboard. I want you from behind. I want to see myself fuck you in the mirror. Kneel up, hold on. That’s my girl.

I pushed back onto him, sighing in that luxurious moment as he pressed on past my lips entering me and the I couldn’t help the idle chit chat from earlier translate in my head.

Don’t we look hot in the mirror? Isn’t Mister doing a great job of fucking me? Oh the sex was divine.

I let him lead the pace for a short while before I couldn’t resist in fucking him right back. He jolted in return, as ever finding it difficult to maintain his rhythm when I let my hips loose. His hand on my clit, my hands on the ledge; I leaned forward to rest my forearms vertically, flush against the panel. It gave me the leverage to press into him as both his hands were on my tits, mouth on my neck, biting on my shoulder before we tumbled into those breathless trips of our mutual climax.

In the climb down, the descent, floating back together that euphoria filled us. For me, the overwrought emotion of the family occasion had found its channel and in lying at opposite ends to one another in an unconnected sixty-nine position with Mister playing with my feet, I felt more like myself once again and not the Family member I was expected to be. His fingers eased my beginning-to-ache feet. Our escape had allowed me to sooth the pain new shoes were just starting to bite into me.

After some time, I dressed once more to leave Mister come to his own senses again. I recommenced that sashay, this time with more of that spring in my step most of you all know to follow you after the joy of hotel sex. I hoped that the quiet smirk on my lips and glint in my eyes had simmered down a little by the time I had rejoined the party. It may be a cliché, but you will find it hard pushed to beat it. I know I can’t wait until the next Family function.

A little while ago I introduced you to Mister’s heavy breathing  musical talents that have been stirring my soul for the past nine years (anniverary of our first date was last Thursday!) and here is a personal request from me for a favourite of his tunes – a Pink Floyd special. Thanks to all who commented last time, Mister was really chuffed to bits, his smile was heaven.

http://ilb.host.sk/Mister%20-%20Is%20There%20Anybody%20Out%20There.mp3

If the hyperlink doesn’t work, please copy it and paste it into a new tab.

My thanks to Innocent Loverboy again for tinkering with the sound quality and for being ever-so-kind in hosting it on his online music thing.

Photo courtesy of A Couple of Wankers

Welcome to e[lust] - The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at e[lust]. Want to be included in e[lust] #37? Start with the newly updated rules, come back June 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

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The Cheshire Cat – Alice felt whiskers tickle her skin and was wracked with sobs of fear. �Oh, little girl, don�t cry. You can stand much more than you think you can.�

Vaginal Overexposure? – I see a lot of vaginas. A lot. One of my favorite things to tell Vincent and his friends is, “I see more vagina that you ever will!”

Marionette – “I’m writing out a fantasy of mine, but I’m not sure what to do with some of it. I’m hoping you can help me figure it out.” “Yes Ma’am.”

~ Featured Post (Picked by Lilly) ~

Journeys – These insecurities are at the root of my fears. I don�t know how to combat them, how to turn those tapes off in my head.

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I�ve found a new secret to my G-spot – This g-spot thing might be hard to find since it can�t be mapped, but believe me it is real and with time, exploration, a good clitoral orgasm and a willing set of fingers and/or dildos you CAN find it.

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the �read more�� tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Kink & Fetish

A Pixie Calls Me Daddy
Afterwards, kissing
Another Try at Topping
Bent Over and Exposed
Female Orgasm: Where Do You Get Off?
Hurts
Letting the Sadist Out to Play
more con-slut…
pain & sadism: how they intertwine
Tied Up and Tossed in a Corner
Waiting My Turn
Warm Up

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Fifty Shades Of Me

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Buying a Toy: What You Need to Know
Bring on the wanks
I want your sex
My Mother, The Whore
Poly Fallacies #4
Q&A # 3: Childhood BDSM Fantasies
Sticks and Stones…
Small World of Swinging
The Gauge
Us Lately
White and Nerdy

Erotic Writing

Around and ’round
Down
Golden girl
Hard Love
Hot sunny sex on a rainy day
It Ain’t Sex
I Want to be Watched
I made him watch me masturbate
Jealous
Lazy Day
Lost in Submission
Making out
On Display
Pussy Doctor
Perfect Cover
Pussy Eating- The Fun Way
Rack and Ruin part II
Shower Scene
The Third Date
Tickle Monster
Waiting for It
Watching Skylarks

Part I

Part II

Give me a show. Touch yourself.

My thoughts went wild at hearing that order. He was certainly enjoying giving the instructions out this evening. I noticed that his voice was no longer behind me as I had visualised, but was coming from…below, between my legs as I stood up against the makeshift rack of the upturned coffee table. He had placed himself on his back on the floor. With the best view of my sodden pussy. I couldn’t help but grin as my left hand grazed down my body before placing a forefinger in my swollen folds. No teasing preamble around my pussy or over my thigh, I needed to play with myself as much as he needed to watch me at that instant. My breath caught in my throat as I imagined the sight he must have had gazing up at my fingers working over my clit.

God that looks so hot. You’ve got me touching myself too. This only made me work myself harder.

I want to hear you scream out. I want you to earn your spanks. I want to hear you come.

I couldn’t resist those honeyed words of his. The combination of his encouragement, my fingers entering my cunt, tickling at my clit and the whole situation I had in my head sent me far over that edge that I was crying out from the overwhelmingly powerful orgasm he had drawn from me like this.

My legs buckled once more, I whimpered and at once he was stood at my side to swivel my shattered body around to face him. I clung on dearly.

But it was far from over.

He led me again to yet another part of the living room – I was long since disoriented by this point in my blindfold – and was made to kneel. I have darkening memories from here on, having already come a number of times by my own hand. It is harder to recall the exactness of it all but one thing cuts through the fog – Mister’s voice. My arms were around his neck with his final instruction.

Link your fingers behind my head and Don’t Let Go. Again the emphasis was clear and with a slight undercurrent of threat.

I didn’t dare want to disappoint him. I locked my hands together as he proceeded to finger me to what to me was my own sense of delirium. I remember at many points trying to wriggle away, it was all too much for me to take, this had always been his favourite way to test my boundaries. But he saw to the end of my escape attempts. He locked me into place by crossing his own legs around me, as we were sat down face to face. His ankles were over my calves. I buckled many times, lost my posture’s composure but I remember always returning to the kneeling position He had placed me in.

You are my subservient girl. I quite enjoy having her here.

I like being your subservient girl. You devil. You utter divine devil.

I was amazed I could even manage so controlled a set of sentences by then, my otherwise broken self had become. Everything about me was broken apart from the linked hands he had told me to keep.

It was up to Him to break that link and when he eventually did, I curled up still kneeling, albeit askew – he had not told me to change position after all. My limp hands drifted to his cock. I still was thinking of him. He hadn’t come yet.

I love the feel of your hands on me.

My reply is instinctive – I love the feel of your cock in my mouth. Can I?

No, I like the feel of you playing.

Dangerous word choice. He said he likes the feel of my playing, he said? So I played. When I play, I tease. He may have regretted phrasing his words quite in that way. I alternated between rolling my hands over his shaft with long licks up and around his head and frenulum. Soon he was holding onto my shoulder and tensing his muscles until he had to push my busy tongue away to leave only my hands to perform my flourishing final flick of the wrist over his head to simply grip, simulating the enveloping sensation of my pussy around his cock as he came on his chest.

The pair of us were now broken on the floor. He cleaned himself up and placed himself on the armchair. I crawled over to his feet and stroked his leg absent-mindedly, in utter contentment. At some point I recall crawling up the stairs with heavy limbs when the white noise faded in and sleep engulfed me completely.

It was my birthday this week. So as a little insight to what we got up to with my request to have birthday candle waxplay here’s the resulting image for Sinful Sunday.

Barred and Burnt

A little poor on the quality of photography as I was using my cameraphone again; hope the content makes up for it.

As per Mister’s request, no nipples, I’m afraid! But I think I managed to get around that little issue…

 For

Read Part I here.

I clutched the silken blindfold as I teetered at the head of the stairs, my toes gripping the lip of the top step. I remembered the last time I was in this position – at least then I was wearing a few shreds of clothing. This time, however, there was not a scrap on my body. By his request. The air upstairs was cooler than the room waiting for me down below and I spent little time hovering in my goosepimpled uncertainty before plunging to discover what Mister had prepared for me.

He was still setting up, I found. The centre of the room had been cleared of the coffee table which he had up-ended onto its side by the curtained window. He was holding the red throw in his hand as I entered and after looking my nude body up and down in approval he asked,

Is this machine washable?

Erm….yes – I think so.

Good, he affirmed simply before placing it on top of the carpet.

What on earth was he planning to do with me this evening? Beyond making me so wet I would dampen the fabric beneath me I was again placed off-kilter. He was making this a theme of the evening, I had now realised.

Both my hands were still holding on to the blindfold and now I wanted my deprivation to begin. I meekly held out the length of satin to him and he diligently blotted out my sight for me to be left with the sound of his footsteps disappearing back to the bedroom. He was rifling through the toy box. Thoughts wandered over what he would bring back down here. I was unsure immediately. I was standing, blindfolded, in the middle of the living room. Every movement gained a degree of tentative apprehension. I was suddenly very aware of my hands, crossing them over my body defensively, nervously holding on to my elbows. That was how he found me when he returned. This bundle of nerves, centre of his stage, this crucible.

A ripple of light thudding sounds met my left ear as Mister dropped his clutch of paraphernalia onto the sofa. Judging from the depth of the sounds there were a mixture of heavy and lighter implements. I hoped that my ears weren’t betraying me and that I had picked up on the light flutter of tassels gracing the leather sofa.

He drew close to me then and took my hands away from their comforting gesture with a slight reluctance in my muscles. He knew where to place them – on his arse. Hands gripped, I was steadied and anchored once more. I was secure in familiar ground, as it were.

Momentarily grounded, at least. Until this player’s next roll of the dice.

The next sensation to surprise me wrenched a small shriek from my mouth as a cold liquid was quickly drizzled on my chest to drip copiously down over and between my breasts. The flickering grimace on my face from the chill was happily eased away as I realised the massage oil that he was applying so liberally over me was oozing itself towards my hips and thighs. I was waiting for the accompanying hands of Mister to press into my skin at any second, but instead I received instruction.

Rub yourself on me. All over my body.

That flush of slight embarrassment waved over me again. I never hesitated from hearing his words, but as I began by pressing my chest onto his the image flashed into my head of just how obscene I must have looked, writhing my glossy body up his chest before swooping to my knees, using my hands on his hips to keep my blindfolded balance as my breasts slipped over his thighs. I tentatively placed some kisses and nibbles over his skin here. Moving from one thigh over to the other I sought for his cock and found myself nuzzling in to lick his balls and the base of his shaft. I pulled away and I found myself smiling blindly upwards in his direction as I drew up to standing once more.

Let’s not forget to oil your back now, he said, drenching my shoulders with yet more oil. As you were, carry on.

Those words were spoken with a grin, I could hear it in his voice. I switched position to face away from him and instantly felt a little more sultry in my snaking movements. As I kneeled down again, I left my hands on his collar bones and felt my hair muss against his chest before easing myself around to press into his back. A few more minutes of this and I had covered almost his entire body with this slutty massage and had ended on my knees in front of him.

With a satisfied growl, Mister delivered his next wish, You have me dripping already. Lick it up.

A mixture of pride at my achievements and the challenge at finding this drip of pre-cum with my blindfold on, I leaned in and let my nose and tongue guide me. He was reducing me to navigating by my senses rather than my brain and I wasn’t giving it a second thought. Finding the side of his shaft first, I lashed my tongue up it and wrapped my lips over his head to lap this seemingly offensive drip of his.

Good girl. A hand of his sank into my hair. Gripped tightly. I cooed at this with his cock in my mouth.

Using his hand in my hair as an indication to stand, he gently dragged me to my feet, brought me in close to sink a soft-lipped, head swimming kiss before directing me to move step by unsteady step to a different part of the room. Putting my hands out to guide me, I clocked that he had led me to the upended table.

I was placed in position, my forearms on the upper table legs, hands gripping the lip of the tabletop. This simple act had transformed the coffee table into a rack! Have I said how much I love this man? May have mentioned it in passing.

Spread your legs and brace yourself. Stay.  The emphasis on that word was challenging, mildly threatening and wonderful to hear from his lips. And so I stayed exactly where I was. Rooted to the spot. Like the good girl he had told me I was. Braced with my head lowered slightly in anticipation, he retrieved his first implement of choice. I soon discovered it was the new soft flogger. I revelled in feeling the air floating over my skin with those energetic swoops that this black flogger needs to create that impact we both wish. I wiggled in delight. I was enjoying myself. Perhaps a little too much for his liking as I didn’t receive the soft flogger for long before he moved onto the more vicious, yet our more familiar suede flogger.

The first sting made me buckle instantly, making me yelp out sharply. Deliberately aimed between my legs.

I resumed my position, my breathing shuddering from the shock contrast between the two different lashings. A second swipe and I hissed through my teeth, my head sank lower and I my head started swimming. I knew by now that I would be the one dripping for his eyes to witness.

Give me a show. Touch yourself.

To be concluded soon…

Part III

After some deliberation as to whether I could manage to take any pictures at all this week – nerves almost got the better of me – I plucked up my courage to enter this week’s Sinful Sunday competition. The theme is ‘Easter Perversion’ for which I submit to you all my little trinity.

A bunny, (rabbits also related to Easter!) restrained in a familiar position, followed by my central guilt and wish for absolution for my actions before my return to what I can’t say no to. A desire for punishment. Temptation is my biggest sin.

I hope you enjoy this Easter triptych. Do click to embiggen.

For

Would you bring me up a glass of red? I called down to him, hoping that not only would he would follow my request, but that he bring himself up with his own glass in hand as he sometimes does.

I was drawing myself a bath and the steam was rising with my hopes as I heard him shuffle about on the floor below me. Hands swished through the water, frothing up the bubbles as far as I could dare. I am a girl of trivial pleasures and a bath almost overspilling with foam is one of them. The day hadn’t warranted a therapeutic cleansing in the bath, the weekend had been kind to me, but I had been promised a good mistreatment and I wanted to be as pristine as possible for him to defile and sully as his own.

All through the day he had been taunting me, giving me small hints at what I could expect from him. The Chair – a possibility; the flogger – a certainty; being made his entirely – it went without saying. At each moment during the day when Mister left the room or returned, I was subjected to attack kisses from him as he swooped down and pulled me into a deep searching kiss. He was keeping me on my toes. As I sat next to him on the sofa, he would casually take hold of my hand and draw a finger into his mouth, licking, sucking in that obscene way which sends shivers through me and instantly make me shrink into myself.

I tightened the cold tap on the bath and slunk into the suds with the hot tap still running. The scalding water was perfection. Dipping my head below the surface and drenching my hair and swooshing it under the water, the muffled footsteps of Mister climbing the stairs brought me back to myself. He hadn’t disappointed me – he stood in the doorway with a glass in each hand.

You’re joining me, I see.

Of course. You know I like to watch.

I know that only too well. I smiled back at him as my dripping arm was held out for him to place my glass in.

It wasn’t long before our glasses were set aside and he had joined me in the bath. Naturally. How could he resist? With my feet placed either side of Mister sitting at the opposite end, he helped to enhance the uncertain mood he had been setting me up in during the afternoon. I found my arms that had begun resting on each of his thighs would soon be put to holding on for leverage and stability for own his hands were wandering below the water’s surface. Roaming across my hip and stroking down one leg, clasping onto my foot and lifting it out of the water closer to his lips. Ticklish at the best of times, I was skittish as he placed his soft lips against my sodden skin, tongue lashed out to catch a few drips before placing a kiss on my sole. He held me tightly as my foot instinctively wanted to retreat, to escape. He revelled in the actions of that timid creature sat opposite him in the water. He wanted more of those reactions.

The comfortable heat soon prickled and clung to my skin and made me shift uneasily in the bath. The cause? Mister’s second hand had moved between my legs, his fingers trailed that line at the top of my thigh that curves into my hip, centimetres away from my pussy. But his fingers were not to drift there – they were curling down to that area still fairly unexplored for us. My cheeks immediately flushed as I realised that he was caressing my ass so lightly, so gently. I was unsure of his fingers, but I refused to jolt away. The sensation was unusual, but instead of batting his hand away, I matched the pressure with which he increasingly tested me with his own hand. Previous times when we’ve played here, I’ve been strung up on the door restraints, blindfolded or with my back to him and completely rejected and kicked out at him when he tried any ass play. It’s a huge mental block for me. But today was different. The bath had me in a relaxed and more confident position. It helped that we were in eye contact. I felt more positive and receptive to his advances and able to respond to his finger’s movement with my own minute shifting.

All the time, he was either kissing my foot or sucking my toes which took my entire focus away from his other hand. The extreme pleasure/tickle on my foot was cancelling out the weirded-out reaction to his other hand’s exploration. Clever Mister. As I became more aroused by the experience, so Mister changed tactics and moved his hand to tickle my clit. The flush of embarrassment was long gone and replaced by the scarlet hue of my desire for him. I longed to kiss him, but I didn’t want to move and break the spell he was weaving over my body, lulling it into this rare state of acceptance at his finger that I was sure had entered me for at least a few short seconds over the course of this little game he was toying with.

And with that, he decided I was ready for his darker desires – I would accept without question his choice of mistreatments.

We finished up in the bathroom, I moisturised as he began to set up the living room on the floor below for our play. I called down to him before he was to take my voice away with that overwhelming control he can have over me -

Any requests?

Be nude. Any requests of your own?

My only request is that you blindfold me and surprise me. I don’t want to see what you have planned for me.

Planned? Never. With you I act on instinct.

I was in for a good deal more surprises than what the bath had started with, I anticipated. I wished for.

I willed.

Read Part II here.

Lift up your skirt.

I don’t even pause to correct him that I’m actually in my work dress, instead eschewing the grammar of apparel for my kinks. Sacrifices must be made, I think to myself. After all – we had received delivery of a new flogger.

Knickers down too? I manage to ask without trying to let the glee in my tone seep out too obviously.

Of course. Now turn around. Kneel on the sofa.

After seeing to my tights and knickers, pulled half-way down my thighs in a most unfavourable, indecent manner, I follow my given instruction. My knees make the leather of the couch creak with every movement I make and it distracts me for a moment as I ease myself into a comfortable position, one hand braced on the top whilst the other is at my hip, holding my dress up to reveal my arse. Head bowed slightly.

He makes ready for the first strike, breaking both myself and the virgin flogger in. It’s soft, the tails merely tickle and lick at my skin. I’m disappointed and make it known to him with a low mewl. He reassesses and recalculates. Logical Mister.

The next strike is given more force behind it, I watch him as he swings his whole body into it. A flashing image of a slave driver with a whip flickers through my head before I banish it. He is nothing of the sort, he is my Mister. The second swipe is decidedly more favourable – I feel the impact shiver through my flesh.

Got a good jiggle from your behind with that one.

I give him a good wiggle of my own in return for the praise.

We continue to test out a variety of angles on the flogger. He tries my thighs – very pleasant, my calves – not so great. A couple of stings are aimed at my pussy. I love this one. Our usual flogger is vicious when it comes to both accidental and deliberate swipes at my pussy and I can’t handle more than two in a session together. Yet. But with this new beauty…I could quite happily secure a number of strokes here and cope with the contradictory soft sting.

I notice that Mister’s strokes of the flogger have changed and that after each one the tails linger on my body a little longer before he draws himself away to take aim once more. I lift my head and gaze back over my shoulder at him, smile.

A warm-up, a prelude. A return.