Usually, when I see him, it’s more physical. Hard thrown punches. Fisting. Kicks. Once, even, in a fury of objectification and pure animal, I lashed a dildo to the back of his head and fucked myself on it, smashing his face into the hotel carpet again. And again. He was so turned upside down, he didn’t even realize what I was doing. Not that I cared.
But this time he wanted sounds. I was surprised at how tight that hole was, but I slowly slid the steel rod up and down, over and over. His head was pulled back by a nose hook, bound tightly to his balls. “You just looked like this dark, ghostly figure from my vantage point,” he said later. I slid several needles into the shaft, zapped them with electrics as he fidgeted madly then roughly withdrew the sharps. His blood trickled in rivulets from the needle points: a dribbling, red ejaculate. I added lube and ordered him to stroke himself with that mix of blood and grease. It congealed, like raw meat fat on his cock. “Look at that,” I said. He did and came instantly.
He cooled but I wasn’t quite yet satisfied. He’d asked earlier about wanting to have a feeling of violation and humiliation without strapon penetration. And then I remembered something Garrett said.
“Face down on the floor,” I told him after he’d gotten out of the shower. I climbed on top of him, stretching my full length on his body. I pinned his hands with mine and hooked my toes around his Achilles tendons for leverage and started thrusting and grinding hard against his ass. My dress a friction between us. Drool glistened on the back of his neck, in his hair. I shifted and slammed my knee into his balls, his ass. Again. And again. Then I climbed back on top of him.
I bit his ear then whispered, “Don’t move.” My piss flooded his crack, dribbled down the back of his balls. A golden shower. A blown load.
I got up and handed him his shorts.
“Now I’m done with you.”
It would seem you’ve left most of us speechless, yet again.
My first reaction is to ask, “can I get me some of that Mistress please?” Time will tell I guess.
More practically, my reaction to this scene and your description of it is simply, “Fuck”. “Holy Fuck”. “Sweet Jesus, Holy Fuck, Fuck”.
I buy lots of “Femdomme” videoclips…reading this post was much hotter. Thank you.
Fuckinghell. I’m glad I checked in, been away, sorry to be a little bit late responding. I’m happy and honored and amazed and happy and excited and happy and stunned that I helped out. You thinking of something I said and in a way that means you were thinking of me at time like that? Goodfuckinggrief. I didn’t expect that.
gee thanks, I now have a very cold water fetish! I had to take like 3 cold showers a day since that post.maybe I can send you my water bill?
Supplementary response if I may…
1. Did this really, really all happen in one session? Really?
2. Perhaps you’ve come up with yet another experience to brand? Meat, blood and sex is a good name- ring, ring, yes Miss Orleans, my name is Peter and I’d like to see you and experience “Meat. Blood. Sex.” Please.
3. Assuming you didn’t have a dresser drawer full of nosehooks before your career change, all I can say is you took a good decision to make the career change. I mean what a terrible waste of Pure Dominance it would have been!!!
In all seriousness, I’ve never read anything that resonated for me like what you wrote here. Nothing. Thank you for the help in self-discovery and thanks to Garrett for his thought in this.
So, so, HOT
PK,
I almost didn’t post this cause it was kinda nuclear hot. Didn’t realize it’d come out that way. Curious as to the parts that particularly did it for ya.
Admittedly, I was a little surprised it took a few days to get some comments. Funniest part was that I told the guy that I’d written about our scene on my blog a day or so after it went up. He emailed me at, like, 3am this morning to say he still hadn’t had a chance to read it. I’m really curious as to what his reaction will be, esp. reading y’all’s comments. Heheh.
Lee,
You really should’ve added a couple of F-bombs if you were gonna fit in on this page. 😉
Garrett,
I think about you more than that, actually. You tell memorable stories.
PK,
1. Well, except (obvs) for the first graf … Yes. And in only two hours!
2. That sequence was stolen from the lyrics to “Coldsweat” by the Sugarcubes. Re-reading the lyrics now, I kinda regret not having that playing on my iPod at the time. It fits.
3. I love those nosehooks. The anal hook’s pretty swell, too. But I’m still figuring out how to maximize that one’s impact. The nose hook … I got that. 😉
Oh, and my favorite part? “It congealed, like raw meat fat on his cock. “Look at that,” I said. He did and came instantly.”
I think SurgiLube (sounds, piercing, therefore handy) must have some sort of coagulant.
I admit that it gives me both a warm and also a hot feeling that I might be in your thoughts from time to time. Thank you for saying that you think of me.
As far as the stories go, yes, I do have them. Truth is stranger than fiction, indeed, but I have found out that I must be selective. I haven’t met anybody to whom I could tell stories from every category. Maybe they want two from Column A and one from Column B like at an old time Chinese restaurant but nobody wants to know about the whole menu. I can’t blame anybody for that and I am resigned to it.
I think that is a reason my life is compartmentalized. Fire walls work for me….either by design or necessity and perhaps both.
@garrett
Sometimes I think I should have more filters in place. But every time I see the need for one, I usually end up saying, “Ah, fuck it.”
Which is probably how this post ended up here.
One day you’ll have to start telling me stories. All of them. I’m curious to know if I’ll say mercy. Try me.
Thank you for the kind invitation. I think the best first step would be me sending you some sort of email and then taking it from there? Does that work for you? Would that be acceptable?
I have no idea of whether you would say mercy. That would not be the end game for me. The gratification/vindication/validation for me would be from your interest rather than from your revulsion.
Experience tells me that people (especially dominant women) don’t want to say mercy and if they get to that point they won’t say it right then and there. They won’t “say” it but they will still “express” it in terms of subsequent actions. I may not have “heard” mercy but I certainly “felt” the ramifications of it.
I feel like now I’ve gotten all cryptic and I think that is often kind of lame so I apologize to you and anybody else for that.
@garrett
You’re probably right about dommes not mercying out explicitly but bailing in other ways. I’ve done that myself a few times. Sometimes deliberately, other times because I didn’t know what to say and figured it easier to say nothing.
There have also been times when I’ve felt my ear/shoulder were being taken advantage of and I withdrew not because I couldn’t handle it but because it was no longer an exchange.
I don’t have your email address, but you’re welcome to write me at mine. MissOrleans at gmail…
MTO,
Just read this after following the link in “cut”. It makes me sad that I have not had a chance to read all of your posts. Each one is better than the last one I read. Thanks for yet another gritty, hot & sexy snippet from the life and times of Miss Troy.
m