For:

A few weeks ago Mister and I celebrated ten beautiful years since the first nervous date between the pair of us. I look back at myself then and see how much I have blossomed into who I stand as today.

Then, 18 years old and never been kissed, painfully skittish around people in general, let alone the male of the species and I had agreed to meet with this 21-year-old I had met scarce two weeks before at the local watering hole of my very small town. Of course, everyone there knows everyone else and in asking my friend who was very worldly-wise when it came to boys (or so it seemed to me at the time – she now is a serial dater and I love her to pieces for it), she told me that she knew of this gallant Mister-to-be via a friend of her current boyfriend. Her opinion was all I had to go on, ‘Decent guy. Hangs around with pot-heads’. Hey, I thought to myself, Live dangerously for once in your bloody life.

And so I found myself sending a safety text message to that very friend from the toilets of the pub that Mister-to-be had taken me to for a lovely steak dinner. ‘Everything’s ok. Going well.’

Fast forward a decade, and here I am now, living with the very self-same Mister. Everything’s still ok. We’re going very fucking well indeed.

He brought me out of my shell. He made me unfurl my arms that had been holding onto myself for so very long. He made me love. He taught me to trust.

Trust has been a large factor in our relationship. At first it was the initial trust between us that grew from our long distance relationship as I was at University for four years. Add another year for the Postgrad course that was slightly closer to home – to him. Not once did he question me as I went out on the occasional night with the girls to the bars. Never did he raise an eyebrow as I told him of the various men (there weren’t too many) that tried unsuccessfully to hit on me. He was rather amused at it all, knowing that I was his girl.

As we travelled our shared path together, Trust became something that entered the sexual element of our relationship as we began to explore kink. It was I that initially wanted suggested kink as part of my desire to TRY ALL THE THINGS! with him as I not only was exploring a sexual relationship with him, but it was my personal exploration to discover was got me off as up until meeting him, all I had was myself to play with, being the nervous virgin I was at 18.

Ann Summers was my gateway drug into the velvet darknesses of kink. Handcuffs were followed by silk scarves, to be followed by nipple clamps and a remote control vibrator. Bondage entered our lives first, and then the pleasure/pain play. This dynamic continues to develop along with our relationship. Just this year my birthday present was our very first riding crop. Which I adore far too much.

We walk the road between these two, pleasure and pain, on a daily basis now. Just this afternoon, upon returning from a venture with family, I was taken in hand by Mister. He made me squirm as he slipped his hand over my thigh as I sat next to him on the sofa. I wriggled as he drew his fingertips along the fabric of my jeans firmly and the placed his palm between my legs to hold me in place. Not long after, his other hand took a fistful of my hair as I sat pinned in position. He drew my head backwards and I met his mouth in a slightly awkwardly angled kiss – but I wouldn’t have wanted it any differently.

The other weekday I had returned from work and I again was sitting complacently in the living room as he turned to me and growled into my ear a suggestion of taking me upstairs, putting me in the over the door cuffs and making me beg to stop his attentions on me. One of his favourite ways to play with me is to finger me into a delirious mess of a Lady as I’m bound – I have a habit of fighting him off after gasping out, ‘Too many orgasms’, to which his tart reply is simply, ‘Never enough’. Yet our trust has grown into that understanding of when enough becomes Enough with a capital ‘E’.

Ten years have got us to this moment in time. Ten years together and I spend yesterday evening playing video games with him on the sofa as I am completely naked and he sits beside me, topless. Because we asked one another. And we both said, ‘Yes’. Unquestioning and with a wide smile and a chance giggle.

LadyP and Mister, in a nutshell.

For:

Note of interest: this post, including the taking of the picture, was created entirely on an iPod. The future’s bright indeed!

I’m wary, rabbit in headlights. My eyes dart to look behind him.

No washing on the line, he says, spotting where my eyes have settled on the next-door neighbour’s plot of garden next to ours. His words call me back to him and I sink into his lips that brush against my skin.

He’s hooked his hands under my work skirt and is raising the hemline ever higher until he reaches the edge of my tights. Wasting no time at all he shuffles my underwear down to just below my knees to allow his fingers freedom over my skin.

My balance begins to sway as his fingers set to work, lightly at first on my sex, testing me, teasing me, tantalising me into arousal.

It works.

As my head starts to cloud with lust, my hands cling on to his body, holding him tightly to me. My thoughts run momentarily to the frozen pizza abandoned in the living room in the shopping bag but before I can start to think about it defrosting he’s pressing with more urgency into me. His fingers speed up on my clit and I start rocking my hips, shifting up and down small lengths of the fridge, hair catching against the surface.

A hand of his takes a swipe at my side, catching on my hip and the top of my behind. He likes the sound his hand makes and grins that devil grin of his. He turns me around and exposes my arse; again I look behind me past him into the garden. No one there. He still can get away with it.

I let him.

Several spanks land on my tender bottom, echoes of pain from last night when we tested his birthday gift to me – Our first ever riding crop. The copious welts from that had given me a delicate day sat at my desk. Each adjustment sent a slight shiver through me at the ghosting memory it triggered.

Madness took over me and I now tried to wriggle away from him. He hauled me back in place and intensified his spanking. The white noise filtered in and out of my mind but I couldn’t get rid of the nervousness of being so visible in the kitchen. I failed him and contorted myself away.

A growl and grab at my waist.

Get back here. Where do you think you’re going?

A wooden chair from the dining table was dragged over the floor, the sharp noise was harsh to my ears. My clustered tights and knickers were removed and discarded near the cooker.

Bring your legs either side of this. Sit.

I did. I was straddling the chair facing its back, Mister looking down at me.

Bad girls get punished.

He set to work. With my legs all but held apart I lay open for him to strum his fingers over my pussy. I grabbed hold of the chair back and bore his relentlessly speedy fingering. I cried out and yelped through the intensity of the pleasure running through me.

But still I rebelled. I had to leap out from here and I eyed him with the anxiety of a trapped animal. Still wild, still untamed.

Upstairs. Now.

Nodding, I did as I was told this time, hoping that in moving to the bedroom he would now relieve me of my nervousness being where all eyes could potentially see should they stumble into looking through the window.

Halfway up the stairs walking behind me he caught hold once more and guided me to bend forward until my hands rested on a stair a few above where me feet were.

Crawl.

As he said the word, my skirt was lifted again so he could get a good look at me.

I moved slowly for him, letting him get his fill.

Before I had even reached the top step he had stopped me. Looking behind me I watched as he unbuckled his belt a few steps below me and reached into a pocket to withdraw a condom. I briefly wondered when he had picked that up from the bedroom. Had he been planning this all afternoon?

Little time was given for me to ponder as he took my hand to his cock to be guided to just the right spot and he thrust into me with little ceremony.

Intense fucking at the top of the stairs. We didn’t even make it to the bedroom. His grunts, my low growling moans. The thrill of screwing me in my work clothes gets him off so well.

Without doubt one of the finer ways to be welcomed home.

You will need to click to embiggen and if you look ever so carefully you might spot some forbidden fruit.

For:

Photo courtesy of CreativNooky

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] #46? Start with the newly updated rules, come back May 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

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Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Easy Come Easy Go: A Look at Orgasm Control
I came before I was ready
Relationships and age difference
PolyAnna’s Musings: Different is Good, Right?
Seriously Proud Queer
Spanking Kink of the Week
How to Be Good in Bed
A Thousand Small Unhappinesses
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The Absence ofHow to Tell if a Man is Gay
Stop Shitting on the Bottoms

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Caning: To count or not to count
Slavery and Social Death, by O. Patterson
His Eyes Hungry. His Body Pleads: Use Me!
Toilet Whore
And then, I apologized.

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Wicked Wednesday: A little bit of confusion
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Waxing Lyrical
The “L” word
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Lolita Twenty-Thirteen, Part Three
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Erotic Non Fiction

Girl on Girl
The Moment I Felt Owned
Tasting Her
Acting on Instructions
Final Cruise
Quickie
A Lazy Sadistic Orgasm
I had 8 days of sex.
An hour together
Cheerful Disappointment
What is Erotic?
The Coin Flip
Playing with Adam
A Trip to the Hardware Store
Fall From Grace

Eroticon

A Somewhat Different Eroticon2013 4~part Post

Poetry

The Dark Place

Well, to a shaky, out of focused extent.

Not a perfect shot, and it looks as though I’m sprouting flowers – But here it is!

For:

The red glow of the electric fire waves with the growl of its fan. Turning, churning out its heat. The crimson light falls on the poised body, picking out its contours, the curves. Shadows arch down into the spine’s groove along the back. Face, half hidden in the darkness, lowered serenity.

He is on his knees where I placed him. Eyes lift up, pause a moment on my breasts and then meet my own gaze down to him. His expression seems to me to be torn between a playful plea, a daring look for me to ‘do my worst’ to him and that other of anxious anticipation. Hunger is in his eyes and that look fuels my confidence. It bubbles beneath my calm exterior, my pose is still in this moment, this snapshot, before the tumbled release down into the dark.

Flip to Heads

Change electric red glow to crisp winter’s daylight. I have returned from a busy day that had drawn me away from him.

He eyes up the sofa and his unusual shiftings in the seat beside me gain my attention. I notice and question him, wondering what he is plotting as it is ever clear that mischief is taking precedence in his mind right now. His voice rumbles a suggestion we try moving the cushions of the sofa to the floor beside the arm of the chair. Padding for my knees. A small plinth, a soft raised pedestal for which to have me kneel with my stomach over the arm of the sofa. We immediately try it out.

I am as ever impressed with his ingenuity as I put myself in place and raise my skirt over and above my legs to rest, gathered, on my hips.

Tails again

On his knees, he stretches to his full height that he can manage. Balance is an issue with him in the wooden wrist bar that tethers his hands behind his back at his waist, unable to reach out and cup my breasts. He finds his way by taste, his tongue tracing the underside of my soft flesh here. I lean forward slightly and he takes my nipple into his mouth. I smile and place a hand on the back of his head, stroking, smoothing his hair. Then I clasp and give a light tug and twist. With his head controlled by my hand, I bend down and turn his head so his ear is tickled by my mouth as I tell him to move onto all fours.

Revolve back to Heads

The creaking leather of the two piled-up seat cushions on the floor take a few moments to get used to, to find that comfortable angle with my knees slightly apart. Mister hooks his fingers into the waistband of my tights, slips the nylon down over my bottom, pulling my knickers down at the same time. He leaves them bunched around my knees. That clichéd image instantly. I settle myself in, placing my hands before me, resting my head on the back of them, feline-like. I need to make sure I have composed myself in body and mind before he can begin. Compliments flow from him about how I look, kneeling over the arm of the chair in this OTK By-Proxy. We are ready.

Return to Tails

I trail the soft-tailed flogger along his back and the tickles it brings forth make him wriggle and wag. Good boy. I have had to take him out of the wrist bar for now so he could easily get on the floor on his hands and knees but he is still blissfully submissive without the restraints with his head lowered and eyes heavy. He starts to purr at the strokes of this flogger and I see him noticeably drift and sway when I take the first swipe the ripple of movement as the slight shockwave presses his body forward.

Heads

With one hand resting on the arm of the sofa, the added leverage enhances the strike his palm has on my behind. He had started fully clothed but a moment’s breather as I let out a louder whimper had given him the opportunity to remove his shirt. I glance over my shoulder sweeping errant strands of hair away from my face with a heavy hand to look back at him. My face, flushed, beams at him in bliss and my eyes dart over to the cane lying in repose at the side of the room – we really should keep this place more tidy, but this moment I don’t care. I tell him to take the cane, returning my head forward and closing my eyes knowing the sting will bite me.

I yelp after the third round of swift strikes and a hand flies backwards to placate my reddened bottom. My flesh is heated, I can already feel the raised skin where the last swipe licked its signature into me. I rub my hand in circles and sink my fingers between my legs to feel the wetness he has brought forth in me. As I take my hand away, my wrist is lightly encircled by Mister’s fingers, held in place at my lower back, curled round in captivity. His body moves closer to mine and he kneels to the side of the cushions I am on, taking my moist finger into his mouth. He sucks loudly, exaggerating the noise almost comically.

Tails

I stand back and gaze at the marks I have made on him. Out of the rounded redness appear three distinctive lines. Two that cross one side to the other and a third to the left just at the top of his thigh where his leg meet his ass. I grin and watch his breathing return to normal after the last gasp and recoil. I don’t go further with anymore knowing his limits are lower than my own. Knowing that the wooden paddle just before had made him hiss with its slap. I sit myself down and place my hands on his hips, bringing my face down, feeling the warmth emanating from his skin and I kiss. I lick. I let my hair stroke over his bottom and trail up his back as I plant kisses up the way of his spine. My teeth delicately take hold of his earlobe, drawing it softly into my mouth and I suck warmly, my breath infusing itself into his hair.

Heads? Tails? Who won in the end?

The coin settles on its edge with us.

The roles reverse, the coin oscillates but the desire remains the same.

He can be a jammy bastard at times.

A wind-up merchant.

A tease of the highest and most sadistic echelon.

When I am out of action for approximately a week every month he steps things up a gear. After the first day of muscular discomfort is over and I feel vaguely human again, I begin to notice that my sex drive increases. Absence makes the cunt grow hornier, as it were. But I’m not the kind of person who finds sex during this time appealing. I have a terribly traumatic experience of coming on during sex with Mister a few years ago - I’ll spare the details, but suffice to say Mister’s panicked reaction has stuck with me.

It didn’t help that this month involved a stay over at Mother’s during the Easter festivities.

The copious amounts of chocolate did help, however.

Sitting at other ends of the sofa together yesterday evening, with my feet in his lap, after Mother had gone to bed Mister decides to dial up the Tease Offensive.

You realise that I’ve had to bite my tongue several times this evening to stop me speaking profanities to you in front of your Mother.

My eyes flit away from the television and I raise a half-smile; I exhale swiftly anticipating where he’s going with this.

I did spot that you seemed to blow a kiss at me randomly earlier – not your usual restrained self in this house.

A few moments of loaded silence pass.

So…uhh…what were these…um… ‘profanities’ you had at the tip of your tongue?

I’d taken the bait. Fallen straight into his trap. Or so he thought. He begins to speak those honeyed words of his, strung together into sentences of promise, of threat, of intention. I find myself thirsty, my throat dry. I can no longer sit still, no longer patient. My fingers itch to slip under his top, to smooth over his chest and snake their way below his belt.

But I remain where I am, the other end of the sofa, for I know if I start I cannot get my own satisfaction. Yes, at times I can be a selfish lover. I admit it. Before any guilt sets in I recall that earlier in the week before we had left our own home that I had indulged in something we both love. I had handled him, stroked his cock through his trousers after he had tried the same tantalising tactics of teasing me to distraction. Pressed my palm firmly along his erection and unbuckled his belt to touch his velvety skin. He has a fondness for the chill of my hands from this relentless winter and the coolness of my fingers aroused him further as I continued on my way.

This night, a different house, a different day, this night had seen too many hours of teasing for my liking and now I wasn’t wanting to be his willing victim quite so easily and so I stayed where I was. Except my toes that remained on his lap began to wiggle ever so slightly. I traced along the top of his thighs with my big toe and gave him a little nudge. Not a kick, but enough of a sign to let him know he had hit the mark with all his winding-up of his poor, frustrated Lady.

You’re not playing fair, Mister.

Oh, but it’s so fun to see you get so worked up.

You’re going to pay, you realise, don’t you? As soon as I’m back in action and we’re back in our own home, your arse is mine. You’ve earned some time with the Minx.

Whilst his expression is suitably muted at my words of chastisement, I have a feeling that this is what he was angling for all along.