poeticdesires

the life and musings of a kinky slut

Whispering to a Stranger

buy Latuda no prescription http://shushescorts4u.co.uk/?p=504 Rope Camp Memories continued…

Still high off the glow of fucking, I thanked the Sadist by getting on all fours and kissing his feet. This seemed to please him and keep me in the good graces of the cabin. As I gave the Sadist’s feet attention, Gray caressed my ass, the view perfect from his bed. Even after my treatment of Dov’s feet was complete, Gray continued to lightly brush my cheeks, so I stayed as I was on the floor.

Soon DarianIlRe walked into our cabin and came over to chat. I informed him he had just missed the show, Gray and I fucking for the whole cabin to see, if they so chose. Sitting back, happy and bubbly, I asked Darian what he was doing right now. He had no immediate plans, so I pounced.

“You’re going to beat on me.”
“Hmm, I don’t like your tone.”

Realizing I had offended him, I quickly reached over and began kissing his feet, my apologies spewing out.

“I don’t like this bratty side of yours,” remarked Gray. “Is this how you are after you’ve been fucked?”

Having conveyed my apology, I explained to the two men that my last encounter with Darian had resulted in a missed opportunity. I felt the need, since he was here and available, to strike while the iron was hot, grabbing him for play now, rather than waiting and possibly missing out again. Understanding my previous brusk attitude, Darian consented.

I bid Gray goodnight and left with Darian, heading over to the Dungeon. We settled on the large wrestling mats. I stripped naked; he warmed up.

“Just to warn you, I’m in the mood to fuck someone’s shit up.”
“Okay.”

Gripping a chunk of my hair, Darian forced me to my knees. Crotching down, his knees held my head as he bent over and began with the front of my thighs. He slapped and punched at my flesh savagely.

Standing, he began kicking and punching the sides of my thighs, as well as my ass. Each time I twisted or moved for a moment’s respite, he targeted the back of my thighs. Pulling me all the way to the ground, he placed his foot on the top of my thighs, shifted some of his body weigth for pressure, and twisted my skin. I screamed out in agony with his slightest movement.

Finished with this manipulation, he decided to simply stand on me, his full weight on a small patch of my leg. The pain was excruciating.

Sitting down, he lifted my straight legs, punching and harshly slapping the backs of my thighs. Flipping me over, now face down, Darian kicked me again, once more targeting the back of my thighs. The entire ordeal was similar to our play to Fusion: long, intense, and unrelenting.

It wasn’t long into our scene that I began to cry, sobs and snot pouring out of me. And, like before, the thoughts I held in my subconscience came roaring to the surface, though these were different than before.

“Daddy, where are you?”
“Daddy, come find me.”
“Daddy, love me.”

I whispered, cried, sobbed my pleas to him, over and over, in hopes that somehow, someway he would hear me.

During aftercare, Darian asked what I had been mumbling. I told him my thoughts, and then explained how it was only recently that I accepted my want and need for a Daddy. I had had the desire for a while but didn’t want to admit it to myself. My crying, when Darian beat on me, was my loneliness and pain from the absense of this person, who I have not yet met, in my life. I also talked about my constant struggle for patience, trying to just wait for my Daddy to come to me.

Randomly, also during aftercare, I told Darian about my prophetic dreams, and how one had come true at Rope Camp. Once Gray and I had arrived back at the cabin from dinner, earlier that evening, I asked him to show me ways to hang my Shibari ring. Sitting on the edge of the bed next to his, I realized, as it was happening, that I had seen this all before, down to me having to call out Gray’s name three times before he responded.

Darian, ever full of Woo, asked if I had tried to cultivate this gift. I explained how haphazard it was, seemingly inconsistent, utterly random. He believed, since it was a gift none-the-less, that I should find a way to develop it. If there was a way, I told him, I would try to find it.

Tears and snot cleaned off the mat, we grab our things and left, the last persons in the Dungeon that night before it closed.


Categorised as: BDSM | Emotional | RCM

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