poeticdesires

Category: Fisting

  • With Breakfast

    “I’ve only seen this shit in porn.” – AV

    I woke up Sunday morning knowing I had to pack, so of course I didn’t want to get up. But I did anyway. I folded my clothes, stripped my bed, and tucked everything away.

    With my bags piled up by the cabin door, I slipped on a pair of tight black khakis and my black Vans and stepped outside. Like the last two days, most of the Rope Village community was huddled around under our pop up canopies. I took a seat and chatted.

    During the conversation, AV asked me how my FetFest had been. I said pretty good, but since I was leaving I would not get to experience her rather large black strap-on dildo. She granted me a rain check.

    I also bemoaned not getting fisted. I was to be a fisting demo bottom on Saturday night, but the top for the event fell ill. (Another rain check earned.) Seeing as I was about to go, AV decided to give me a send off.

    “Poetic, would you like a fisting with your eggs?”

    After finishing my breakfast (thank you again, Roxy) the needed supplies were gathered: a chuck, my personal lube, gloves, and a battery operated Hitachi.

    I laid my chuck on the carpet in the middle of the chairs, the better for everyone to get a good view. I stripped down my sparse clothing and took my place in the center. AV and a beautiful girl sat by my crotch.

    Rope Village was blessed with two supplies in ready order: rope and Hitachis. With a portable battery pack to supply power for the wired sex toys, both AV and the beautiful girl got themselves off before getting me off.

    As they settled in, AV began to warm me up. The idea of the two of them double fisting me came up. I wondered how they would manage this. The technical details were far from my mind, however, after we began.

    I intentionally did not ask if I needed permission to cum. With only a few of AV’s finger in me, my ecstasy began. With AV’s full hand inside me, the beautiful girl then applied the battery operated Hitachi. I tried to move my hips to get the positioning right before finally taking up the toy in my own hands.

    As AV continued to pound her hand inside me, the beautiful girl played with my nipples.  Both ladies still rode their own Hitachis, as well. 

    Wave after wave of orgasms washed over me. I felt so full of AV’s hand. In a moment of clarity, I realized it was because more than one hand was in me.  I rose my hips up, trying to hump her hands as she pounded into me. Pleasure mixed with pain. I couldn’t stop screaming and crying out her name.

    When finally she slipped out her hands, I was exhausted. I sat up and kissed both AV and the beautiful girl, thanking them for their care and attention. It was them I remembered a fun moment during our scene.

    Obviously, with us playing in the middle of the circle, many people watched. I believe I heard the snapping of a camera. However, someone pointed out an important fact: this was Rope Village; where was the rope?

    Tossing in one small coil, it splayed out on my chest. I think my gyrations must have moved it because later a second length of rope took its place. With my scene complete, I picked up the small length, asking to whom it belonged. Hammer had been its owner. He then gifted the rope to me.

    So now in my Hello Kitty bag lives a small length of rope, a token of my time at FetFest staying with and being loved by my rope family.

  • Cage Match

    D3 stripped naked, save for his boots. I wore only a black strapless dress, a cute pair of underwear, and my boots. I told D3 how I like it when people take off my clothes.

    “Mean or nice?”
    “Whichever.”

    He stepped in close. We kissed, our arms wrapped around each other.

    He began punching me. I slowly, blow by blow, backed up into the wall of the cage. I looked into his eyes as his punches landed on my chest, my arms, my thighs.

    He kissed me, turned me, and then stripped off my dress, unzippering the back and quickly peeling it off my body. He left my boots and underwear on.

    He punched my back, my ass. Using the toe of his boot, he kicked my thighs. He swung his leg and landed his boot across my ass.

    Grabbing my hair, he pulled me to the ground. Lying on my stomach, he put his boot by my face.

    “Lick it,” he demanded.

    My tongue traced up, down, and around his leather as he continued to punch my back.

    Using his boot, he flipped me over. He loomed above, stepping onto my body, using the cage for balance until he could apply his full weight. Adjusting his body, he intensified his weight into his heel, down onto my flesh. Turning my head with his boot, he stepped on my chin line.

    Coming down to my level, he chose to sit on my ribs and once again punched my chest. Using his elbow, he applied pressure points to my chest and arms. Pulling out a knife, he glided his steel along my chest and over my face. He made me endure more pressure points.

    His knife away, he leaned down and once again kissed me. He licked my eyelids. As we continued to makeout, he pulled me on top of him.  His body now laid below mine.

    In an instant, the dynamic of our scene switched. I kissed him, teased him.  I danced my breasts in front of his face.  He pinched and sucked on my nipples.  I leaned down and bit his neck. He encouraged me to bit harder; I did so. He moaned with my increased pressure.

    I kissed him more. Without realizing it, I’d begun grinding my hips on his leg. I was happy my underwear was still on.

    Without warning, he hooked his leg and flipped me back onto the mat. Again we kissed. My legs grasped his thigh as I continued to hump his limb.

    He sat me up, crossed legged. He punched my thighs more. Using his lead shot mallet, he attacked my back and thighs.

    And then he asked a magical question.

    “What do you want to do now?”

    I answered bluntly.

    “Fist me or fuck me.”

    We laid down a chuck; he gloved up. I removed my very wet underwear and got comfortable on my back.

    We started slow. I asked him if I needed permission to cum. He said I didn’t. I could have as many orgasms as I wanted. “I love to watch people cum.”

    I orgasmed a few times before his full fist was in.

    Once inside, he used a turning motion to make room, sending my muscles racing. What he thought was to be our final flourish was merely about a third of the way into the fisting. I continued to fuck his hand and cum like crazy, pushing back as he rocked me forward.

    Once, during a rather intense orgasm, I lifted my hips up off the ground, bridging my body high. “That was intense,” he remarked.

    My ass back down on the ground, I hooked my calves around his elbow and squeezed my thighs. I rode his hand as hard as I could. I came so hard, I cried. I asked him to vibrate his hand, and then came again. He tried to open and close his hand quickly. I stopped him, coaching him instead to do it slowly.

    Soon, his wrist tired. He asked me how long I could go. I informed him this was a loaded question, as my record for a fisting was an hour and forty-five minutes with forty-two orgasms (yes, we counted).

    He decided, with his wrist about done, it was time to pull his hand out. There was a final flourish, the delicious feel of his knuckles against my pelvic bone when his hand exited.

    Ungloving and joining me on the mat, we cuddled and kissed, and almost fell asleep.

    He then asked me if I wanted to help him orgasm. I gave a very enthusiastic yes.

    I then gloved up as he laid back. As he masturbated, I massaged his asshole. When he came, I caught his cum in my glove and smeared it onto his lips. He licked off his cum, sucking on my fingers, all the while our eyes locked on each other. It was so very hot.

    Gloves again discarded, we cuddled more before cleaning up.

    When we checked the time, we could hardly believe it was real. We’d started at about midnight. The time had flown by.

    We finished at 2:22am.

  • Abduction part 5

    My abduction had a special guest. They walked into my line-of-sight after all my limbs were restrained, somewhere in the middle of my pain. I hadn’t heard their voice before then either.

    They wore beautiful boots, black with red trim and buckles at the top. They used those boots to step on my stomach. They stepped on my chest. They stepped on my face and smeared the mud from their walk through the woods to my abduction onto my cheeks.

    Murphy ordered me to compliment the special guest on their boots.

    “I already did earlier.” I had, in fact, seen the special guest wearing those boots before my class and remarked on how beautiful they were.

    “We don’t give a shit,” yelled Gray. “Do it again!” He punished me for my sass. I screamed out in pain, and then in adoration of the boots.

    “I love your boots, X. All I want to do is kiss and lick them.”

    “Now you are a filthy fucking slut,” remarked Slut.

    With her hand now free from my cunt, Slut transitioned to biting me all over: my chest, arms, legs, stomach.

    With PrudeNate’s hand inside me, I soon asked permission to cum again. I was refused.

    I pushed through the pain, now not just the scratching and punches and biting, but also willing my body to not react, willing my muscles to not contract, willing my orgasm back.

    Murphy said I would gain permission for my cum if I screamed out my name, Cabin Bitch For Life. I did. I came.

    [Added thanks to PrudeNate:

    As my torment continued, someone remarked that there was nowhere on my body that had not been punched.  PrudeNate, however, disagreed. 

    “There’s somehwere she hasn’t been punched yet.”  The group looked to him in astonsihment, asking where. 

    “Here,” he replied as he punched my cervix with his fist inside me.  There were many nodding heads of approval, as well as a few at-a-boys.]

    During the duration of the scene, whenever I began to catch my breath, or Gray and Murphy thought I was getting too quiet (as in I wasn’t full throated screaming or sobbing), the duo beat me more.

    “We want your voice gone. You’re not going to stop screaming.” I don’t remember which of the two said that.

    N3rddom, who I’d barely seen throughout my ordeal, came into my line-of-sight, punched my chest, kissed me, and whispered into my ear, “Aren’t you glad you asked me to do this?”

    When he stood back up, he also remarked, “What happened to you mindfucking us?”

    With PrudeNate fisting me, CandleLover’s nails gripping my breast, and Slut’s teeth sunk down into my stomach, it became too much. At one point, Slut bit hard, pulled, and swiveled her head back and forth.

    I tried to break free. I was so sweaty it was hard for everyone to hold my limbs as I wrenched my body around. I got an arm out, but was soon restrained again.

    I needed to get away. I was able to curl my body away from Slut, but she never let go of my stomach. She just wouldn’t stop biting me.

    Finally I had to scream, the most guttural scream of my life. “YELLOW!” Immediately people relaxed their grip. I curled into a ball away from Slut, away from her teeth. It happened to be into Big Bro’s lap.

    I just needed a moment. I just needed water. I just needed Slut to not be biting me.

    After I chugged a bottle of water, I said I was okay. I thought we would go on.

    Instead Big Bro called it. I was done.

  • Round 4

    “I lost my earring.”
    “That wasn’t a euphomism for sex?”
    “No, I lost my earring, but we had sex after I found it.”

    I woke up on my own at 6:05am, quietly slipped out of bed, donned my clothes, and said a whispered bye to Pyro and Ron, neither of which heard me as they slept.

    Returning to my cabin, I took notes on my evening and snoozed a little before it was time to head back to work. However, when I made my way to the Barn, no one had arrived yet.

    Wandering down to the Dining Hall and HeadQuarters, I found friends. I greeted N3rddom, who would run the cafe for the weekend, and sat with the head of the Non-Dungeon setup crew. She informed me we would start after breakfast, which would be served in about an hour.

    And then I absent-mindedly realized something: I was missing an earring. I texted Pyro, asking if he saw it. He replied, saying I should come look for it.

    Bruises from my previous evening showed the others all the fun I had had. My crew lead encouraged me to go “find my earring” and meet them for breakfast later.

    Walking up the hill, I again made my way to Sadists’ Lair. Ron was getting ready while Pyro laid in bed. After a few minutes, we magically found both my earring and it’s backing.

    With thirty minutes before breakfast would begin, I decided to snooze with Pyro. But just snooze. I kept my underwear on as insurance. Ron left out as I slipped back into Pyro’s bed.

    But then five minutes into being next to Pyro, his soft sleep breath in my ear, I realized I wanted to fuck more. I gently laid one of his hands over one of my breasts. He instinctively massaged and pinched my nipple. But then he drifted back to resting.

    Seeing that I needed to be bolder, I took his other hand, glided a finger into my mouth, and slipped his hand into my panties. He was now fully awake, rubbing my clit.

    I asked him to bite my neck. He obliged, gripping hard, pulling with his teeth and sucking. Again I fucked his hand hard. Again I screamed to my heart’s content. His teeth were all over my flesh. Pain mixed with pleasure.

    But we were seriously time limited. When my alarm went off, I knew we had to stop, even though I didn’t want to. I told him it was time to go.

    But as I began to get off his bed, with his fingers still inside me, he redirected my body. I was now sitting on his hand.

    “Cheater! You are such a cheater!”

    I rode his hand harder, came harder. I didn’t want to leave, didn’t want his digits anywhere else but inside me.

    But then my second alarm went off. I really had to go.

    “Man, and now my panties are all wet.”

  • Pre-Game

    “I swung by the Barn last night. It sounded like you were having fun.”

    I picked my blue H&M sundress because it was comfy, cute, and hugged all my curves the way I liked. I slipped on white knee high socks and my new-ish purple flats, rounding out the cuteness of my outfit.

    Stepping out onto the porch, I cranked my flashlight and chatted nervously. We’d only played once before on a whim. This time I had been the instigator. And now all I could think was, Holy shit. This is going to happen.

    The few of my cabinmates also on setup crew were amused by my jitters. To them I looked cute, and was about to play before the event officially started. They shooed me away, and told me to have fun.

    Walking around camp when it was that dark and desserted was an odd feeling, but having a destination gave me some comfort.

    I lightly took each step up to the cabin porch, and slowly opened the door. He laid on his bed, naked, typing on his phone. Apparently I had perfect timing. He was just about to hit send on a message for me.

    I crept closer to his bed, sat down my bag, and leaned against his air mattress. We chatted for a moment, easing my jitters, before he pulled me onto the bed. I slipped off my shoes, and curled into him. We kissed and chatted some more, relaxing me still further, before his teeth sunk into me.

    He bit and nipped at my flesh. I sighed and moaned. He slowly pulled up my dress. As we kissed, he attempted to unhook my bra, but found my multitude of hooks difficult. Finally freeing my breasts for his enjoyment, he pulled my dress and bra to just above my chest, partially trapping my arms. First he suck, and then bit my nipples.

    He bit all over my body, exploring my flesh with his teeth. When his mouth found its way to my neck, I loved the feel so much I wrapped my arm around his head to keep him there. He began fingering my clit, finding I was already very wet. I asked permission to cum and he gave it.

    Soon more fingers played inside me as he continued to grip at my flesh. The pleasure of his digits in me mixed with the excruciating pain of his bites to my Mons. “Fuck, I forgot you have the word ‘Sadist’ in your name.”

    I cried from the pain. I moaned from the pleasure. I asked his permission to cum again and again. “You’re so greedy.” I prefer to think of it is talented.

    He made me wait, at first counting backwards from five. Then counting backwards from ten. And then counting backwards from 100. “97, 84, 72, 69, 54, 49, 34, 38, 23, 18, 9, pi, 2, cum!”

    So vigorous was our fun that I found myself slipping off the side of his massive bed. We readjusted, thus ending round 1.

    He pulled my dress and bra off of me. We were both breathing heavy, but neither of us wanted to stop. In a moment of respite, his lips met mine, parted, and fed me refreshment from his mouth. His tongue mixed with the cool drink. It was the only time I have ever enjoyed iced tea.

    Joining me in the center of his bed, we went back to where we left off. His fingers in me. His teeth gnawing at me. He pushed me harder still, slapping my pussy, fingering my asshole as he fisted me, pinching and gripping at chunks of my flesh, pressure points, grabbing mounds of flesh and then biting his selections. He bit and fist fucked me deep. The pain increased. The orgasms rolled.

    Round 2 ended because of a simple truth: it was getting late and we had setup in the morning. As much as I wanted to keep getting abused by Pyro, we both needed sleep. Snuggling up to him, we drifted off as SirRonC stepped into the cabin around 12:15am.

    And then I felt soft hands on my hips, soft kisses on my shoulder. It was 1:15am, and Pyro was up for round 3.

    I worried we would disturb Ron as we played, so I put a pillow over my mouth. Again Pyro’s teeth sunk into me, his hand in my pussy, my orgasms rolling. I didn’t want to wake Ron, so I stopped asking permission to cum, silencing my screams with the pillow. My body was happy to enjoy Pyro’s manipultions yet again.

    When I reclined my head back once, and saw Ron was not in fact in the cabin, I pushed the pillow aside and screamed to my heart’s content. I locked my legs around Pyro’s arm and began fucking his hand yet harder. He swiveled his body and I began sucking his cock as well.

    Around 2am we stopped again. I needed to be up at 6:30am. Pyro set an alarm and was fast asleep.

    I laid on the bed, naked, face down with my ass feeling the slight coolness in the air. When I felt like I was about to slip off into my dreams, I heard the cabin door open again. It was Ron. Once I heard him settle into his own bed, I slipped a blanket over my body and fell asleep.

  • Popping A Cherry

    He had never fisted anyone before. For some reason, this surprised me.

    He showed me his hands. He wondered if I was sure I could take him. I smiled and held back a chuckle.

    We moved to near our original spot, though this time we would share a sheet with other friends. I laid my chuck on the floor. He found a glove and lube. In retrospect, I suppose I was already well slicked from fucking Slut, but in fisting using more lube is never a problem.

    He started slow, fingering me with just a few digits. Because he’d never done this before, I thought I had to talk him through it. I asked the number of fingers inside of me. I requested he insert another.

    And then I had to ask permission.

    “Sir, may I cum?”
    “Yes, you may.”

    My lesson ended there. He, in fact, needed no instruction.

    I orgasmed two or three times just from his fingering. With his digits playing in my pussy, he explained he’d seen fistings before. (And, to be fair, I am well trained.)

    With all of his fingers in place, I ushered him inside me.

    “Push. Push. Push…”

    And he was in.

    And I was screaming his name, writhing in ecstasy.

    Every time I felt the wave approaching, the warmth growing, I asked permission. And he always gave it…except once.

    One time he said no. And I begged. I begged and begged just wanting to feel the muscles contract, feel the high from his manipulations in my pussy. And when finally said yes, I came so hard I almost cried. Tears built up in my eyes.

    “I lurv da frl of you feestin mepussah.”
    “What was that?”
    Less lost in the mumbling of a woman cumming, I said, “I love the feel of your fist in my pussy.”

    But then it was time for us to end.

    He built up the rhythm of his fist fucking, pounding me harder and harder until once again I came, this time finally crying. My tears sweetly slid down my cheeks, kissing my skin as I screamed his name, thanking him for my orgasm.

    I popped NHF’s fisting cherry.

  • Missed You More

    ~erotica~

    “Missed you.”
    “Missed you more.”

    Her lips were as soft as I remembered, painted the deep red that I loved. Her grin was still sly, still full of something secretive yet alluring. And her eyes.  I still could not help staring into her eyes.

    She nibbled at my neck, grazed my hips with her nails, and breathed heavy into my ear.

    “Been a long time.”
    “Too long. Don’t you ever fucking stay away that long again.”

    She grabbed my hair, tilted my head back, and planted a wet kiss on my lips. I grabbed her hips and pulled her towards me. We both knew what we wanted, what we missed most.

    In a flurry of discarded clothing, we were soon in her bed, naked, writhing on the sheets.

    She bit my neck hard. I knew it would leave a mark. I loved knowing it would leave a mark.

    My nails dung into her ass, round and sumptuous, just how I loved it. I smacked her ass hard, the crack echoing off her apartment walls.

    “Bitch!”

    Her teeth went straight for my nipple.

    “Fuck!”

    I shrieked. And moaned. And shrieked again.

    Kicking my legs up, I flipped her onto her back. She didn’t relent from her dessert until my fingertip found her clit. Now it was her turn to moan.

    She kissed me hard again, rocking her hips onto my hand. Her fingers found my nipple, this time lightly squeezing and tugging. My moans were lost in our kiss.

    Seeing her opportunity, she pivoted me back onto my back. She always loves to be on top.

    Her hand found my clit now. Less patient, or less fond of teasing, her fingers quickly slipped down my slick lips and inside me. I gasped, lifting my hips towards her hand. Two, three, four digits were soon inside me.

    “Please, please,” I began to beg. “Oh God, please fuck my face.”

    With her hand never leaving my cunt, her pussy was soon grinding against my mouth. I gripped the backs of her thighs for purchase, tasting what I had so longed to enjoy.

    Finally slipping in her thumb, she fucked me with her fist, piston-like thrusts in time with her hips.

    Her headboard banged against the wall. She moaned. I shrieked. Neither of us cared what her neighbors thought.

    As I came, this time I screamed, “I missed you!”

    As she came, this time she screamed, “Missed you more.”

  • Narnia

    Narnia.

    They made me scream Narnia instead of their names or any preferred curse word while I came.

    Narnia.

    PrudeNate had his fist inside me as N3rddom held a Hitachi Magic Wand to my clit, and all the while I am screaming.

    Narnia. Seriously.

    Would this be an example of humiliation play?

    Friday night was an April birthdays celebration, filled with beatings and bitches and sex sex sex. So basically a good time.

    My evening really kicked into high gear when I spied a gentleman wearing a glove with a chain wrapped around his hand. With slight prodding from my friends, I got up and introduced myself. About fifteen seconds later I was bent over the arm of the couch enduring a taste of his blows. Talk about thuddy.

    Then somehow BlackBeard (the host for evening) and the chain-gloved gentleman were both hitting me at the same time, their punches landing on opposite sides. Aiming for the meat of my ass and the sides of my thighs, I fell with each blow.

    BlackBeard kept yelling for me to stand back up, which I did happily, until what became the final blows, when my body buckled and I collapsed into the couch, landing on my ass. The sides of my thighs still ache from that experience, which maybe lasted two minutes.

    My body warmed up, I slouched on the couch, smiling and happy.

    With the complaint of those in attendance concerning the high quantity of clothing and the low quantity of nudity, clothes soon came off. I, however, was not one to just disrobe. I had to give a show.

    When the moment presented itself, I cued up my usual song, and placed myself in an opportune viewing area. Of course, most everyone turned to watch.

    This ended up being a blessing and a curse. It fed my need to be watched, admired, my secret narcissism, but these were not quiet folk. For the first time, as I stripped, I was heckled.

    “I’d better read about this is your blog.”

    Request granted.

    Because my act involved audience participation, and I wore a different outfit than usual, my dance was more playful, more creative. I took risks, and was rewarded for my efforts. Dollar bills found their way into my bra. And BlackBeard, ever the gentleman, made it rain for me.

    Of course everyone loved my signature move (my booty pop, with my fingers pointing to my ass for added emphasis).

    Soon after my dance I found myself on the floor with PrudeNate, N3rddom, and CandleLover all tormenting me. Sometimes I get spoiled.

    We didn’t count my cums, even though there was mention of my all time record, accomplished with PrudeNate about a year ago (42 orgasms in one hour and forty-five minutes).

    Instead there were mental torments, giggles, and vibrator & fist induced glee.

    At one point, it was so good I wanted to call out to my (as yet non-existent) Daddy, thanking him for my pleasure. Thankfully I was cognisant enough to know screaming “Daddy” rather loudly would’ve been odd and inappropriate to say the least.

    After my fisting, most of us transitioned downstairs to BlackBeard’s dungeon. There was an energetic threesome involving two lovely women, BlackBeard, a spanking bench, and a strap-on. PrudeNate, N3rddom, CandleLover spent some quality time of their own on the soft carpeted floor. I leaned against the wall and enjoyed the dual views.

    Later that night, I was given the privilege of blacking BlackBeard’s boots again, buffing them to a high shine.

    My night ended with the sounds of singing and guitar playing as BlackBeard and an impromptu chorus of kinky folk sang songs as varied as those in attendance.

    A good night, I hope, was had by all.

  • Flagging Starfucker

    I was given one star for every orgasm. To be fair, I had not kept count, guessing the number at above twelve but below thirty. Truth be told, it could’ve been over thirty considering how long we’d camped out in the swing, but eh… Our scene was about the fun of predicament bondage, fisting, vibrators, and good conversation.  The shiny stuff was just extra.

    I greatly enjoy rising to challenges, so getting up into a sex swing with both my legs frogged, one arm chicken winged, my wrists connected, and a tight chest harness around my torso was just the recipe for great fun.

    This was to be my reward for finding “the spot”. Crawling around on the carpeted floor, my knees and one elbow ached, searching for some unknown place. Still, it was amusing, figuring out how my body would work caught up in my bindings.

    When first tasked with my ascent, I asked for assistance from a friend. Once they heard what my reward would be, they said I had to earn my fisting. I attempted to do it myself.

    Thankfully, a small metal piece of play equipment sat in front of the swing. First I hooked my shoulders in the basket. Leaning against it, I got my feet up on the equipment and began wiggling myself up and into the swing. I managed to get myself half way in, to just above my hips. But with my legs still bound, it was becoming obvious that though I had performed particularly amazing considering the predicament, I was not going to make it all the way in. Anatomy and all.

    With my legs released, I slithered the rest of the way up. With some assistance from our audience, we got a chuck (a safer sex disposable blanket, for those not up on scene lingo).

    Time for the screaming.

    “May I cum?”
    “Yes, you don’t have to ask permission.”

    “You look really pretty. Well, you always look pretty, but especially now with the rope and your tears.”
    “Thank you.”

    My first few orgasms were just from fisting. And then I was asked if I liked vibrators. Hmm, do I like vibrators?

    My wrists still connected, once up in the sling they were secured to a small length of chain hanging from the top bracing. With some effort, I discovered I was able to hold the vibrator with my fingertips if I had one arm up and one arm down.

    And then the orgasms started rolling, one after the other. A hand inside me pounding. A Wahl vibrator going. I screamed. I cried. I cursed. I whimpered. It was marvelous.

    I’m not quite sure how we started our conversation. I know I mentioned how I had, during previous fistings, been asked to count back from one hundred by sevens, recite a poem, etc. So we started talking, with a fist still in my cunt.

    I love ligature marks. LOVE THEM. But during our chatting about “experimental” video games, I asked for my wrists to be released. I had already rotated them twice and could feel it was time for me to stop tormenting them. I didn’t want to completely take off the rope, though. My right wrist still held onto its cuff.

    “I could feel that, when you coughed, and now that you’re laughing.”

    As we chatted, I was sparring with the vibrator, though I did orgasm thrice while we spoke. Even so, I kept engaged in the conversation. It would’ve been rude to do otherwise.

    “How long do you want to go?”
    “That is a loaded question. I’ve gone as long at an hour and forty five minutes before, so however long is fine with me.”
    “Okay good, cause I’m not done yet.”

    Smoothly we transitioned from talking to fist fucking again. I came some more, screamed some more, and yelled their name over and over. I really like doing that, broadcasting to the world who is making me cum. I find it pleasurable as an expression of my ecstasy and whomever I happen to be playing with seems to enjoy it as well.  At least, I’ve had no complaint.

    I only had to ask for a slowdown once, a testament to the abilities of the person I played with.

    “Tell me if this hurts. I want this to be enjoyable for you.”

    And it was.

    Once we did finish, and cleaned up our area, the stars came out. Super glued to my upper right arm. And one on my right temple.

    “You’re flagging starfucker right now.”
    “That’s okay. You’re a star in my world.”

    Yes, there is room for cheesy-ness in the dungeon.

    I wanted to take a photo. But I no longer had underwear. I had worn a pair of black boxer shorts. However, once I voiced a reminder that said boxers were destroyable, a knife soon ripped them apart, after grazing all over my skin. And slapping my clit. And lightly fucking me.

    “You should save them, use them for your bootblacking kit.”

    I love mixing my fetishes.

    Taking my Zim jacket, I zipped it up over my legs and tied the arms around my hips.

    “Hey, great. That looks like a cool skirt.”

    Heading to the bathroom, I asked if someone would take my picture. Instead I was informed of the photo shoot happening in the ballroom next door. Rushing inside, I begged profusely and, in doing so, I earned the last spot.

    So there is a chance that next IMsL I will be in the program (or, dare I say it, on the front cover) flagging starfucker.

  • Warm Up 2.0

    With my beating complete it was time to treat Gray’s leathers. But, of course, first we warmed up.

    While still in the middle of my soothing blowjob, Gray again helped me practice my deep throating. He commented on how he liked the flutter in the back of my throat, which was the physical manifestation of my gagging.

    “Turn around; face down, ass up.” I obeyed.

    Gray began fingering me. I was incredibly wet. Quite quickly, I asked permission to cum. He refused; he only had three fingers inside me. He slipped in his fourth and fifth easily; I was well warmed up from my weekend.

    “I will punch you five times on your ass. On the fifth punch, you are allowed to cum.”

    One. Two. Three. Four.

    He hesitated, and then landed his fifth strike. I came hard, pushing back on his hand, enveloping his fist inside me; no glove, no lube.

    Gray started fucking me with his fist. He got down on the floor and hovered just above my body as he rammed his hand into my cunt. I asked permission to cum again. He denied me. I asked, begged, again. He gave it. My abdomen convulsed.

    My pleasure and pain rose with his strokes. When it almost became too much, I begged for a break, just a moment to breathe. He gave it, but it was merely a few breaths before he again starting pounding my pussy.

    I made myself take it, pushed myself to go further for him, endured more for him. And, because I did, I felt another orgasm rising. I asked permission. He told me it would be my last; make it a big one.

    He ordered me to cum. I screamed as my insides enjoyed the ride.

    Gray slowly pulled his hand out, but then stopped, enlarged his fist at just the right spot, and gave me a last wave of pleasure and pain from the pressure of his knuckles spreading inside of me. Without closing his hand, he pulled out completely.

    “You’re suppose to be working on my leathers. Setup your kit.”