My head is flooded with the images and memories of lost nights past. No, not lost, they will forever be seared into my mind. After the fact, the evidence remains. Smeared eyeliner. Aching thighs. Reddened skin. Heated flesh. The smell of sex in the air of the bedroom. Crescents lightly lingering on my hand where I had been forced to bite down rather than let out a howl of uncontrollable delight. But where should I begin my tale? With the sight of me cuffed to the bedroom door? Let you in on the secret that only Mister could see of my glistening pussy overwhelmed from the sensation of being whipped with the tassels? How he broke me down once again and I failed to accept his careful and tender explorations of my most forbidden part of me? No. My cheeks flush at the embarrassment of letting you down. You would wish to hear of a successful night, surely. Where I was triumphant in falling to him. Utterly. Completely.
Last night springs to mind. The most recent flashbacks have continued to haunt me throughout this Sunday afternoon. Can you be glad of such a ghostly presence echoing through your body? It feels like I’ve been transported back to the moment where again with the whip that evening his first strike was off. His aim unsteadied through the alcohol coursing through him. The first swipe at my flesh snapped right up onto my sex and I yelped so sharply. It stung, stung so very much. I hated it, but I fell so swiftly to him right then. I was clasping on to the chest of drawers so tightly as he entered me from behind. When he withdrew my body moved in his direction. I had forgotten I was holding on to the furniture and it leaned back with me. The drawers half fell out. Later he asked incredulously if I had been broken in so short a time. My voice in reply was quiet, but so sure and direct in my answer. No. I’m good. Monosyllables, all I was capable of.
But that again seems unsatisfactory for what I wish to share.
How about describing myself, positioned at his feet during the dying hours of yesterday, he was stroking my hair absent mindedly. The occassional tangle catching in his fingers. This was even before anything of note had begun. But with us, when is anything over? It’s all one continuous ride of fire. I was fingering the thin collar around my neck. An inspired find from my fancy dress collection. What was once a black cat’s collar now had become my symbol of submission. A simple thing, but as his eyes alighted upon it as I entered the living room having changed into his required attire of me for the night I saw him shift, twitch in that uncomfortable yet adorable manner. He approved of my laddered hold-ups, clipped onto the garters of the black basque. The love of his for torn hosiery: something I’ve noticed only recently. He enjoys spoiling me, damaging my pristine image. It’s all connected to the professional reputation I possess in my view. He adores subverting my career status. I adore letting him.
Shift for the final time to last week, we’re in bed.
Nothing new there, but this time he’s propped me up against the metal bedframe. He’s telling me to part my legs as he kisses his way down between them. I’m wet of course, how could I not be? I hear the scrape of my silver ring on my left hand as I twist my fingers around the wrought frame. The wrenching of my nails on the bedsheets, flying out to steady myself against his fervoured licks, nips and sucking of my lips. Tongue teasingly pressing against my pussy’s entrance and I am lost again, legs wrapping around his back one moment, the next trying to lever him off away from me after too much intensity the next. He calls me out this time, stops mid orgasm and dips down the side of the bed to bring up the restraints that are never removed from the frame. He teases out each arm to encase my wrist in the soft cuffs, tells me to behave. My legs are stilled by his voice. Mister eases up my body, kisses each nipple before drawing me into a kiss. I instantly taste myself on his lips, tongue, my scent takes me over. A hand of his has traced its way down between my lips to hold my sex in that protective, possessive way before two fingers slip inside. I moan into his kiss and my eyes can’t seem to focus any more until I notice him moving up my frame once again, he’s kneeling now in front of me. His erection stands before my lips.
At once I see so very clearly. I am shackled, bound and cannot turn away. I open my contradictingly smiling mouth as he leans forward. The angle is uncomfortable, my neck is strained like this. He himself has become lost as he fucks my mouth. More than once I gag and I think I feel saliva escape from the side of my mouth. I cannot turn away, I don’t want to turn away. Even seemingly helpless like this I draw him out for as long as I can, licking, kissing his head before even considering sucking. All the while he is making me come with his fingers. Agile in his reach behind his back. With each orgasm I break my connection with his cock to gasp and moan preventing his own climax. We stay like this, me edging him along as he continually sends me over and over…
Snapshots, flashbacks and memories. Glimpses into my life with him. A small peep through the curtain for you all. Never the true image, never the whole recounting. What I leave out is for him and I alone, and my my – what devious things I have neglected to mention…
Fantastic imagery, and truly inspirational. Love it.
That means very much. Thank you!
LP x
This is so terrific. I am enthralled by you two.
I suppose I find him pretty enthralling – I’m simply reacting to him. Thanks, A
LP x
I love it! I think that it was sexy, dangerous, and utterly delicious to read and imagine. I have this image of you in my head i’m not sure how to put it into words all I know is that you seem to be a goddess in print.
I tip my hat to you Lady P
xox
-Goldi
“A goddess in print” is a fine, fine way of describing our dear Pandorah. I too have an image in my head of her and whilst I don’t know if it’s the same as yours, you’ve done a darned good job of describing at least one aspect of it!
Goldi – *blushes*
BS – Please do enlighten me as to your own image of me in your head…
LP xx (fishing for compliments, as ever.)
Ooh, I’ll have to think about that one. It’s a nebulous sort of image that I need to think a bit more about before it coalesces into something I can even try and put words to. Some already come to mind but I’d want to pick them carefully, not for fear of offending you (though maybe somewhat nervous of sort of ‘coming on too strong’ almost), but because I want to do justice.
Plus, it does have the added side effect of making you wait, which sounds like a good tease. ;P
Wonderful stuff. That last snippet is particularly hot and now I’m wondering if I can set myself up for something similar tonight… Hmm, it’s worth a go. Crush is a little gentle with me in the mouth fucking stakes but maybe I can get something a bit more wild.
You’ve left me with my imagination reeling and you’re the fuel for the fire. I get the feeling that’ll make you very happy.
Well? Don’t leave a girl hanging in suspense! How did your conspiring go? Success?
I’m never usually one to appreciate the act of the last snippet. It, therefore, is really telling of how well I fell into subspace with him to accept bloody well gladly.
And yes…I enjoy being your fuel
LP xx
It went very well! The angle was all wrong for face-fucking, clearly we’ll have to actually set that up, not just fall into it, but I got a whole lot of rubbing his cock into my face and sucking it and lowering it onto my mouth and having to sort of catch it with my lips and all sorts! Then sex. So that worked.
Snippets from a sex life can be very tantalising, but then again, I quite like that. I like the fact that there’s some stuff you haven’t put in – after all, it’s not technically possible to share every minute detail. That’s the way to blog effectively – choose some bits and craft them well.
Tantalising! Yay! Objective achieved. Glad you liked my snippets. I have a feeling it might have been too much for you if I did reveal the other things we got up to.
But that’s highly presumptious of me.
LP xx
Too much for ILB? Oh, well now I’m curious!
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