The Adventures of Lady Belinda Ch 2
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Our New Adventures 7 - What Lady J Needs free porn video
Our New adventures 7
Knowing What Lady J Needs
Lady J, relaxing, answering her mail and talking with some of the brilliant people we have as friends on our profile … XX
It had been a very hectic and busy week, both at home and at work for Lady J, I am a lucky man, I was able to escape what had become an increasingly unrewarding and underappreciated twenty-year career and largely do what I want work-wise at least. My wife’s career is on the up, it interests her greatly for the most part, but does put her in contact with, and often in conflict with, some substantial egos. Please do not misread my intent, dear reader, Lady J, is a fighter, where we grew-up you had to be, and she can hold her own and more than often win against the most arrogant fool, however, as you may well be aware, in this age it can be a tiring process as you cannot just smack an idiot, it takes its toll. One does not have to be a mind reader to see the signs, the pressure in her building-up. The walls go up, social contact is reserved, conversations shorter and to the point, and she wants to have sex, not make-love.
“pull my hair”, I do so, the palm of my other hand in the small of her back to maintain that gorgeous arch which gives optimum penetration, as she bucks from that orgasm a look over her shoulder tells me a change is needed. With one hand I can easily flip her over, pushing her knees to her chest or knock her legs from under her so my full weight pushes her flat to the bed, her face pushed hard in to the pillows, my free hand thrust under her belly so, my fingers already wetted in her mouth, can find her clit even as I punch my eight inches as deep as I can to find those sweet spots that will bring her to another soaking climax. As shattered as she is at this point, she will wiggle excitedly over and down my body, clawing for my wet cock as she does so. If I was using a condom, then this is removed with more dexterity and skill than I can ever achieve despite her urgency. I may allow her lips and tongue to make contact briefly, just to see that slick of sex painted on her mouth, but I will often take a hand-full of hair once more to pull her clear, take a brief moment to amuse myself with the bemused look she always throws at me.
“what is it you want?” I may ask,
What do you think you?” she questions as she struggles to put the head of my cock back in her hungry mouth, and it’s that which is her tell, my final clue that she needs something else next time, something a little different.
“what do you want?” I ask again, I’ll carefully apply more pressure, a little pain to reinforce who is now in control and check if she is willing to submit, that she will give a true account of her needs and wants. Even though I make no effort to restrain her arms she makes no attempt to break my hold. The question and answer may be repeated several times … until:
“I want your cock … I want you to fuck my mouth and throat … I want your cum … I want a cum-supper … I want…” an honest response at last, I am now fucking her mouth, sometimes, even though she may have soaked the sheets during our vigorous fucking, one of her hands may drift to her pussy to solicit another orgasm, synced with my own as I fill her mouth and feed her, her supper.
Only then, in that after glow is there real affection again, before it was just lust, now she curls into me, tells me how much she loves me. My mind is working, the stress is getting to her, and I have to exorcise that demon.
The next day, I am about to leave for work, my text to her as she sits in her office is to the point.
“I will be home, just before 11pm, I will expect our room to be prepared, you dressed appropriately and waiting for me there. I shall allow you to choose the instruments for your correction and I would like a glass of red wine waiting for me, is that understood and agreed by yourself”
“yes sir, I shall be waiting in our room”, her response always seems quicker in reply to such instruction, but, only if I have read the situation correctly.
Any other messages from her for the rest of the day are largely ignored, I note that they increase in number as the evening draws on. I am home, a little early, dressing gown and towels are laid out for my arrival, and I take a long leisurely shower, pointedly turning the TV on, turning the sound up until I am sure she has heard it upstairs. I make a fuss of the dogs and put them to bed before finally climbing the stairs at about 11:20. I know I am going to be greeted by a wonderful site, my fantastic wife, my lover for almost thirty years will have pulled out all the stops, she will look amazing, standing there bolt up-right heals together hand tucked into the small of her back …dear reader, I will have no idea how long she has waited in that perfect poise and I will not, I must not ask. The room will look and smell gorgeous, warmth and her perfume will sweep over me as I open the door, and I must ignore all of it, I must look for the faults … I will be polite, but, firm and unbending as I fight the urges building inside me, and search for the inconsistences in this otherwise perfect picture.
The first is easy:
“I had asked for a glass of wine to be waiting for me”, there is no aggression in my voice, I am not angry, it is a simple statement of fact as I motion to the two empty glasses and the bottle on the side table. I take in the rest of the room, and the items carefully laid out on the sheepskin which decorates the blanket-chest at the foot of our four poster-bed. It strikes me that it looks like an alter with some sacrament and articles of pagan ritual placed upon it.
The short cat-of-nine, my riding crop and the pinwheel, I place the glass of ice I carried up next to them and have a shiver of excitement as I hear the slight gasp that escape her lips. I set my phone on the dressing table and press record. She pours me a glass of wine, and offers it to me, I thank her, before taking the black, silk shirt from its hanger.
“may I pour myself a glass of wine please Sir?”, I am impressed that she has not preempted my answer but has instead resumed that perfect posture her face very eager with anticipation. She wears a deep dark, blue bra and panty set, trimmed in white lace, blue shoes with five-inch heels, she looks and smells fantastic.
“no, you may not”, I watch her face for any reaction “I notice that you have not put out any restraints or rope, was this deliberate on your part”, as I ask I pass her the shirt, she puts it on me.
“I did not feel I required restraints tonight Sir” she says confidently.
“are you sure, they are there to help you maintain control and position … you will have to work very hard without them” I warned her. She finishes dressing me. “stand like a statue”, I examine her and have her turn round to complete my inspection.
“I am disappointed Lady J”, no reaction from her … “simple instructions, and yet I had to wait for my wine … you haven’t even dressed yourself properly” I pluck at her bra strap, where it had not been fastened correctly, I see a brief flash of smugness on her face as I spot her “mistake”, no disappointment, just correctness “I will need to apply correction … do you understand?” I continue.
“Yes Sir, but, I did my best!” her voice is tiny and demure.
“did you do what I asked?, did you follow my simple and clear instructions?” I ask.
“I did my …” she begins.
“did I find you, this room as I instructed? … no, I didn’t” I answered my own questions. “I am going to have to apply correction … do you understand why?” I gently turn her face to mine, and for the first time she sees that I am filming her response.
“yes, Sir I understand “
I walk her to the foot of the bed sitting her down on the sheep skin, her back to the bed and lean her back as tenderly as I can, this is not a natural position, gently kissing her forehead to close her eyes taken up the horse crop silently as I did so.
“I make these corrections to set you free, to clear your mind … to drive distraction from you … you need only feel, … you don’t even have to think you only have to do as I say”, my hand was behind her neck supporting her head it even as I stand back to make the room I need, I see her chest rise and fall in deep breaths, she is biting her lower lip in anticipation, even so, the sharp sting of the crop on the exposed flesh of her left breast takes her completely by surprise. A loud gasp escapes between her teeth and lip but, her position remains completely unchanged despite the lack of ties or restraints. I wait, as she sucks in a little air, and smile as she says in a quiet but, strong voice:
“thank you, Sir”
“are you happy for me to continue?” I whisper with another kiss to her forehead.
“yes s.. arghh!”, my second strike catches her on the inside of her right thigh with a very satisfying crack, I timed the hit just right, between breaths as a boxer might try in order to rob his opponent of air, so, she had to sucked hard to draw enough into her lungs answer me again, her chest heaving now. Tiny sharp strikes followed on each nipple, still protected at this stage by the material of the bra, a dozen or more in quick succession, a dozen more on the shallow flesh that covered her ribs on her sides, these are the jabs to draw her defences up and away from my next target. A stealthy change in position and two hard blows to each inner thigh. Still, that fantastic woman held her composure, her chest moved her back arched but she made no attempt to draw her arms in or close her spread legs to protect herself. I now trailed the strop of the whip lightly over the slight reddening marks of her inner thigh, moments passed,
“thank … you … Sir” escaped in short breaths, I was happy that we could begin now and a sweet smile spread across her lips as I told her so.
I have the “cat” now, and allow her to place a rolled-up blanket to help support her back, she would need it. The first is across her belly has a harder impact than I had planned. The cat, was purchased in an adult store, a woven leather hand-and-a-half handle and a dozen 14inch long thongs. It was pleasant to use, a sweet noise in its employment but, quite crudely made and has a tendency for the thongs to bind and impact like a coiled rope instead of twelve stinging snakes, not for the first time, I promised myself that I would make a better one. Her, only complaint was a quick look in my direction, not a murmur, I ran my splayed fingers through the thongs to separate them properly and landed its second blow with my apology still hanging in the air.
It now fanned perfectly, despite its crudeness, it could be applied quickly, after the first few dozen swings I scarified speed for accuracy and strength each impact ringing nicely. I forgave her, when she was unable to thank me properly after each application. I stopped to allow her to regain her breath, my phone still recording, was mounted now and on the dressing table taking in the whole panorama.
“face the camera and strip” I commanded, and she did so, slowly pealing her bra straps from her shoulders in turn. Turning her back to the camera her panties were next, her heels remained on. A brief inspection, a kiss and we continued same position, the cat laid between those wonderful breast, I traced my hands down her sides, her shivers began to stir a reaction in me and I thought she had handled what I had dished out so, far very well, also her exposed pussy was looking tantalisingly inviting too:
“that whip stays where it is”, her hands curled round the up rights of the Victorian bed knowing that my admiration of her fortitude was going to gain her a first reward. My tongue found her clit rock hard, and very wet, my mouth filled with her juices even as my nose filled with the smell of the perfume she had placed on her belly, she came within hard within a couple of minutes with my hands firmly on her hips to contain her gyrations. As I came up to kiss her, my mouth and beard still wet with her cum, I saw that the cat was still where I placed it.
“Hold yourself open for me”, I picked up the cat “you know what to expect”.
There was no hesitation on her part as she immediately opened herself and parted her knees, I watched her tense, readying herself in anticipation, her breathing controlled now, setting herself up to take the impacts I was about to deliver, but, you see dear reader I choose that position deliberately, with only her lower back supported her legs apart, she was balanced on her toes, in what used to be called a “stress-position”, the whole point of which, whatever one calls it, is that such a pose cannot be held for very long. In a few short moments she began to shake with the effort, and beads of perspiration formed on her chest, belly and thighs. Then at the exact moment that her guard dropped, the fan of the cat struck home. The shock, shot up her body, her convulsion had not finished before I delivered the next, then the next. I must not allow her to become accustomed to the rhythm, a strike across her chest, her nipples now, the size and seeming hardness of bullets. Her ribs, her belly, her thighs her hips, her exposed sex. Each ripple and impact now rolled in to each other, until they became one and an orgasm boiled through her … and continued boiling as long as I landed the blows.
She lasted longer than I thought she would, and took so much more “correction” than I believed she could, she finally collapsed in on herself rolling over onto her side, exhausted. I folded the cat and placed her in the “toy” box, gently stroking Lady J’s hair as I returned to her, now lying on the bottom of the bed panting lightly, across the blanket box.
Smiling I reached for the glass that held the ice, much of it had melted smooth but I still popped the broken lump in my mouth briefly to warm its edges and help prevent it from “burning” the more sensitive parts of her body.
For the first time that night she was a little scared, I offered her the security of being restrained, told her that she had done so well in taking what I had dished out already without them, but perhaps she needed them now. I was so proud of her when she declined. If you haven’t tried it then dear reader, you may not understand, applying ice to the hot, used flesh, still stinging from the slap of a hand, the bite of a whip, kiss of the cat is one thing, but, best of all, is that particularly-exquisite sensation that is delivered by a pin-wheel. Take it from a man who knows, it’s a sensation very close to being cut, slowly… a clean pure pain, it builds and lingers, now dear reader, if you apply ice to that, the pain is just the right side of tolerable, the brain tries to process these confused signals and fails and one’s mind and body has a fantastic experience sorting it all out.
This is now what Lady J enjoyed, her fingers clasped at the sheets each side of her, at times she arched from her shoulders to ankles with clear space between her and the bed, no sensible words could be discerned, she twisted and bucked, she would have bitten through her lip had I not fetched the cat from the toy box for her to bite upon. When, all is said and done, there is very little difference between that kind of pain and its effects, and sexual climax. Both clear the mind of all pointless worries and concerns, but in combination they kind of reset it too. Even as the pin-wheel traces its path and the ice melts, drawing the hot flesh tight again in an instant; fingers tongues and teeth find those places already over stimulated and work them to orgasm after orgasm. Where one finished and the next began became meaningless as they become a single state of being, seconds stretched to minutes and minutes multiples there-of.
She came back to me them, rebooted if you like, coming around as if after a faint, all quiet murmurs, soft touches, slow, long kisses which worked from my mouth down my chest, over my stomach to my rock-hard cock. The difference between, this blow job and the previous night’s, dear reader? Well, this one was a gift for me, her showing her gratitude, the final act of submission if you like. Her last one was taken from me, given primarily for what she got from it, to feel defiled in some way, to fill her hunger and want at that moment in time. Not that I am complaining of receiving either type, but it pays to know the language and read the signs. Now, she was wrapped round me, feeling the muscles in my arms tracing finger tips over my chest, not wanting to let go … emotionally reset, curled together we finished the wine.
As she drifted to sleep, I tidy the room a bit, although in an amusing aside, I accidently left both the cat, the riding crop and my leather bullwhip on the corner of the “roof” of the bed, in full view of the window cleaners the next morning, I only realised this as I stood chatting with them and got a wry grin when they asked after Lady J’s health. Never mind my amazing wife walked to work that bit lighter and happier that morning, and without panties under that tight red skirt… and in my mind’s eye, that bit sexier too.
Oldrope XX
Knowing What Lady J Needs
Lady J, relaxing, answering her mail and talking with some of the brilliant people we have as friends on our profile … XX
It had been a very hectic and busy week, both at home and at work for Lady J, I am a lucky man, I was able to escape what had become an increasingly unrewarding and underappreciated twenty-year career and largely do what I want work-wise at least. My wife’s career is on the up, it interests her greatly for the most part, but does put her in contact with, and often in conflict with, some substantial egos. Please do not misread my intent, dear reader, Lady J, is a fighter, where we grew-up you had to be, and she can hold her own and more than often win against the most arrogant fool, however, as you may well be aware, in this age it can be a tiring process as you cannot just smack an idiot, it takes its toll. One does not have to be a mind reader to see the signs, the pressure in her building-up. The walls go up, social contact is reserved, conversations shorter and to the point, and she wants to have sex, not make-love.
“pull my hair”, I do so, the palm of my other hand in the small of her back to maintain that gorgeous arch which gives optimum penetration, as she bucks from that orgasm a look over her shoulder tells me a change is needed. With one hand I can easily flip her over, pushing her knees to her chest or knock her legs from under her so my full weight pushes her flat to the bed, her face pushed hard in to the pillows, my free hand thrust under her belly so, my fingers already wetted in her mouth, can find her clit even as I punch my eight inches as deep as I can to find those sweet spots that will bring her to another soaking climax. As shattered as she is at this point, she will wiggle excitedly over and down my body, clawing for my wet cock as she does so. If I was using a condom, then this is removed with more dexterity and skill than I can ever achieve despite her urgency. I may allow her lips and tongue to make contact briefly, just to see that slick of sex painted on her mouth, but I will often take a hand-full of hair once more to pull her clear, take a brief moment to amuse myself with the bemused look she always throws at me.
“what is it you want?” I may ask,
What do you think you?” she questions as she struggles to put the head of my cock back in her hungry mouth, and it’s that which is her tell, my final clue that she needs something else next time, something a little different.
“what do you want?” I ask again, I’ll carefully apply more pressure, a little pain to reinforce who is now in control and check if she is willing to submit, that she will give a true account of her needs and wants. Even though I make no effort to restrain her arms she makes no attempt to break my hold. The question and answer may be repeated several times … until:
“I want your cock … I want you to fuck my mouth and throat … I want your cum … I want a cum-supper … I want…” an honest response at last, I am now fucking her mouth, sometimes, even though she may have soaked the sheets during our vigorous fucking, one of her hands may drift to her pussy to solicit another orgasm, synced with my own as I fill her mouth and feed her, her supper.
Only then, in that after glow is there real affection again, before it was just lust, now she curls into me, tells me how much she loves me. My mind is working, the stress is getting to her, and I have to exorcise that demon.
The next day, I am about to leave for work, my text to her as she sits in her office is to the point.
“I will be home, just before 11pm, I will expect our room to be prepared, you dressed appropriately and waiting for me there. I shall allow you to choose the instruments for your correction and I would like a glass of red wine waiting for me, is that understood and agreed by yourself”
“yes sir, I shall be waiting in our room”, her response always seems quicker in reply to such instruction, but, only if I have read the situation correctly.
Any other messages from her for the rest of the day are largely ignored, I note that they increase in number as the evening draws on. I am home, a little early, dressing gown and towels are laid out for my arrival, and I take a long leisurely shower, pointedly turning the TV on, turning the sound up until I am sure she has heard it upstairs. I make a fuss of the dogs and put them to bed before finally climbing the stairs at about 11:20. I know I am going to be greeted by a wonderful site, my fantastic wife, my lover for almost thirty years will have pulled out all the stops, she will look amazing, standing there bolt up-right heals together hand tucked into the small of her back …dear reader, I will have no idea how long she has waited in that perfect poise and I will not, I must not ask. The room will look and smell gorgeous, warmth and her perfume will sweep over me as I open the door, and I must ignore all of it, I must look for the faults … I will be polite, but, firm and unbending as I fight the urges building inside me, and search for the inconsistences in this otherwise perfect picture.
The first is easy:
“I had asked for a glass of wine to be waiting for me”, there is no aggression in my voice, I am not angry, it is a simple statement of fact as I motion to the two empty glasses and the bottle on the side table. I take in the rest of the room, and the items carefully laid out on the sheepskin which decorates the blanket-chest at the foot of our four poster-bed. It strikes me that it looks like an alter with some sacrament and articles of pagan ritual placed upon it.
The short cat-of-nine, my riding crop and the pinwheel, I place the glass of ice I carried up next to them and have a shiver of excitement as I hear the slight gasp that escape her lips. I set my phone on the dressing table and press record. She pours me a glass of wine, and offers it to me, I thank her, before taking the black, silk shirt from its hanger.
“may I pour myself a glass of wine please Sir?”, I am impressed that she has not preempted my answer but has instead resumed that perfect posture her face very eager with anticipation. She wears a deep dark, blue bra and panty set, trimmed in white lace, blue shoes with five-inch heels, she looks and smells fantastic.
“no, you may not”, I watch her face for any reaction “I notice that you have not put out any restraints or rope, was this deliberate on your part”, as I ask I pass her the shirt, she puts it on me.
“I did not feel I required restraints tonight Sir” she says confidently.
“are you sure, they are there to help you maintain control and position … you will have to work very hard without them” I warned her. She finishes dressing me. “stand like a statue”, I examine her and have her turn round to complete my inspection.
“I am disappointed Lady J”, no reaction from her … “simple instructions, and yet I had to wait for my wine … you haven’t even dressed yourself properly” I pluck at her bra strap, where it had not been fastened correctly, I see a brief flash of smugness on her face as I spot her “mistake”, no disappointment, just correctness “I will need to apply correction … do you understand?” I continue.
“Yes Sir, but, I did my best!” her voice is tiny and demure.
“did you do what I asked?, did you follow my simple and clear instructions?” I ask.
“I did my …” she begins.
“did I find you, this room as I instructed? … no, I didn’t” I answered my own questions. “I am going to have to apply correction … do you understand why?” I gently turn her face to mine, and for the first time she sees that I am filming her response.
“yes, Sir I understand “
I walk her to the foot of the bed sitting her down on the sheep skin, her back to the bed and lean her back as tenderly as I can, this is not a natural position, gently kissing her forehead to close her eyes taken up the horse crop silently as I did so.
“I make these corrections to set you free, to clear your mind … to drive distraction from you … you need only feel, … you don’t even have to think you only have to do as I say”, my hand was behind her neck supporting her head it even as I stand back to make the room I need, I see her chest rise and fall in deep breaths, she is biting her lower lip in anticipation, even so, the sharp sting of the crop on the exposed flesh of her left breast takes her completely by surprise. A loud gasp escapes between her teeth and lip but, her position remains completely unchanged despite the lack of ties or restraints. I wait, as she sucks in a little air, and smile as she says in a quiet but, strong voice:
“thank you, Sir”
“are you happy for me to continue?” I whisper with another kiss to her forehead.
“yes s.. arghh!”, my second strike catches her on the inside of her right thigh with a very satisfying crack, I timed the hit just right, between breaths as a boxer might try in order to rob his opponent of air, so, she had to sucked hard to draw enough into her lungs answer me again, her chest heaving now. Tiny sharp strikes followed on each nipple, still protected at this stage by the material of the bra, a dozen or more in quick succession, a dozen more on the shallow flesh that covered her ribs on her sides, these are the jabs to draw her defences up and away from my next target. A stealthy change in position and two hard blows to each inner thigh. Still, that fantastic woman held her composure, her chest moved her back arched but she made no attempt to draw her arms in or close her spread legs to protect herself. I now trailed the strop of the whip lightly over the slight reddening marks of her inner thigh, moments passed,
“thank … you … Sir” escaped in short breaths, I was happy that we could begin now and a sweet smile spread across her lips as I told her so.
I have the “cat” now, and allow her to place a rolled-up blanket to help support her back, she would need it. The first is across her belly has a harder impact than I had planned. The cat, was purchased in an adult store, a woven leather hand-and-a-half handle and a dozen 14inch long thongs. It was pleasant to use, a sweet noise in its employment but, quite crudely made and has a tendency for the thongs to bind and impact like a coiled rope instead of twelve stinging snakes, not for the first time, I promised myself that I would make a better one. Her, only complaint was a quick look in my direction, not a murmur, I ran my splayed fingers through the thongs to separate them properly and landed its second blow with my apology still hanging in the air.
It now fanned perfectly, despite its crudeness, it could be applied quickly, after the first few dozen swings I scarified speed for accuracy and strength each impact ringing nicely. I forgave her, when she was unable to thank me properly after each application. I stopped to allow her to regain her breath, my phone still recording, was mounted now and on the dressing table taking in the whole panorama.
“face the camera and strip” I commanded, and she did so, slowly pealing her bra straps from her shoulders in turn. Turning her back to the camera her panties were next, her heels remained on. A brief inspection, a kiss and we continued same position, the cat laid between those wonderful breast, I traced my hands down her sides, her shivers began to stir a reaction in me and I thought she had handled what I had dished out so, far very well, also her exposed pussy was looking tantalisingly inviting too:
“that whip stays where it is”, her hands curled round the up rights of the Victorian bed knowing that my admiration of her fortitude was going to gain her a first reward. My tongue found her clit rock hard, and very wet, my mouth filled with her juices even as my nose filled with the smell of the perfume she had placed on her belly, she came within hard within a couple of minutes with my hands firmly on her hips to contain her gyrations. As I came up to kiss her, my mouth and beard still wet with her cum, I saw that the cat was still where I placed it.
“Hold yourself open for me”, I picked up the cat “you know what to expect”.
There was no hesitation on her part as she immediately opened herself and parted her knees, I watched her tense, readying herself in anticipation, her breathing controlled now, setting herself up to take the impacts I was about to deliver, but, you see dear reader I choose that position deliberately, with only her lower back supported her legs apart, she was balanced on her toes, in what used to be called a “stress-position”, the whole point of which, whatever one calls it, is that such a pose cannot be held for very long. In a few short moments she began to shake with the effort, and beads of perspiration formed on her chest, belly and thighs. Then at the exact moment that her guard dropped, the fan of the cat struck home. The shock, shot up her body, her convulsion had not finished before I delivered the next, then the next. I must not allow her to become accustomed to the rhythm, a strike across her chest, her nipples now, the size and seeming hardness of bullets. Her ribs, her belly, her thighs her hips, her exposed sex. Each ripple and impact now rolled in to each other, until they became one and an orgasm boiled through her … and continued boiling as long as I landed the blows.
She lasted longer than I thought she would, and took so much more “correction” than I believed she could, she finally collapsed in on herself rolling over onto her side, exhausted. I folded the cat and placed her in the “toy” box, gently stroking Lady J’s hair as I returned to her, now lying on the bottom of the bed panting lightly, across the blanket box.
Smiling I reached for the glass that held the ice, much of it had melted smooth but I still popped the broken lump in my mouth briefly to warm its edges and help prevent it from “burning” the more sensitive parts of her body.
For the first time that night she was a little scared, I offered her the security of being restrained, told her that she had done so well in taking what I had dished out already without them, but perhaps she needed them now. I was so proud of her when she declined. If you haven’t tried it then dear reader, you may not understand, applying ice to the hot, used flesh, still stinging from the slap of a hand, the bite of a whip, kiss of the cat is one thing, but, best of all, is that particularly-exquisite sensation that is delivered by a pin-wheel. Take it from a man who knows, it’s a sensation very close to being cut, slowly… a clean pure pain, it builds and lingers, now dear reader, if you apply ice to that, the pain is just the right side of tolerable, the brain tries to process these confused signals and fails and one’s mind and body has a fantastic experience sorting it all out.
This is now what Lady J enjoyed, her fingers clasped at the sheets each side of her, at times she arched from her shoulders to ankles with clear space between her and the bed, no sensible words could be discerned, she twisted and bucked, she would have bitten through her lip had I not fetched the cat from the toy box for her to bite upon. When, all is said and done, there is very little difference between that kind of pain and its effects, and sexual climax. Both clear the mind of all pointless worries and concerns, but in combination they kind of reset it too. Even as the pin-wheel traces its path and the ice melts, drawing the hot flesh tight again in an instant; fingers tongues and teeth find those places already over stimulated and work them to orgasm after orgasm. Where one finished and the next began became meaningless as they become a single state of being, seconds stretched to minutes and minutes multiples there-of.
She came back to me them, rebooted if you like, coming around as if after a faint, all quiet murmurs, soft touches, slow, long kisses which worked from my mouth down my chest, over my stomach to my rock-hard cock. The difference between, this blow job and the previous night’s, dear reader? Well, this one was a gift for me, her showing her gratitude, the final act of submission if you like. Her last one was taken from me, given primarily for what she got from it, to feel defiled in some way, to fill her hunger and want at that moment in time. Not that I am complaining of receiving either type, but it pays to know the language and read the signs. Now, she was wrapped round me, feeling the muscles in my arms tracing finger tips over my chest, not wanting to let go … emotionally reset, curled together we finished the wine.
As she drifted to sleep, I tidy the room a bit, although in an amusing aside, I accidently left both the cat, the riding crop and my leather bullwhip on the corner of the “roof” of the bed, in full view of the window cleaners the next morning, I only realised this as I stood chatting with them and got a wry grin when they asked after Lady J’s health. Never mind my amazing wife walked to work that bit lighter and happier that morning, and without panties under that tight red skirt… and in my mind’s eye, that bit sexier too.
Oldrope XX
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