24.7

Amy and I were getting dressed the other day, and she took a little too long to find a top.

She had a skirt and panties on, but seemed to have a little difficulty getting that last little bit of coverage on, and those naked full breasts just seemed to cry out for attention.

Or not. Whatever. Attention is what they got.

I surprised her by coming up behind her as she looked through a drawer, and began to run my hands lightly over her body, touching the outside edges of her breasts. I stayed away from her nipples, just to tease her, but that was challenging enough for me as well. Just love those nipples…

Anyway, I took her by the arms from behind and moved her over to the bed, and slipped her skirt off her hips, and slid her unneeded panties off as well. A quick push had her on the bed, where I joined her, and wrapped her hair around my hand as I directed her mouth to my cock.

All well and good, but not what I wanted for long, so I pulled her up onto the bed, and let my mouth travel down over her protests and breasts down her belly and between her thighs. I nibbled the less dangerous places first, then slowly began to explore her sensitive parts.

I could sense things weren’t working for her; Amy lay quiet and almost immobile, quite different from the moaning and physically reponsive woman I usually find when I do this, but it had been a while, and I knew I was out of practice. No matter. I’m enjoying it, and she always takes much longer to cum from oral than when she is masturbating, so I relax and continue exploring.

I reach up and play roughly with her nipples, and get an immediate response from her. No surprise there - handle her nipples and her eyes glaze over almost immediately - probably the only thing that can stop her in mid sentence,

I have my mouth on her soft fine pussy, and my fingers tweaking her nipples, I begin to settle in, and suddenly Any convulses.

WTF?

Quiet gasps, her thighs clamping together, as she rocks gently on the bed.

I’m so amazed I forget to be aroused.

Amy keeps cumming, hard, her body fully committed now, and I help her ride through it, until she calms a little, then starts to giggle.

I intended to fuck her, but I’m too distracted.

I hold her in my arms as the final, slow aftershocks run their course, and she can talk again,

I think she’s more embarrassed than thrilled. She doesn’t cum this easy, and we have fun teasing about it. A bit of a change, for sure. I think both of us are thinking th word “slut” but we don’t mention it until half a day later, when Amy hazards a guess that she’s becoming one.

She might be right, something I tested out the following day, which I will explore in my next post on this!

It’s not all dried parsley and chuck roast around here.

Megan’s arrival has meant a little shuffling around while we get a more permanent setup roomwise, which will be in place tomorrow. In the meantime, our son has spent a night or two in our room.

You can see the complications, I am sure.

Last night we snuck out for a little non conversation.

Today, Amy needed a nap. I agreed to go up to the bedroom and sit with her, but not to nap because she’d never wake up in time otherwise.

Turns out Amy was not really interested in a nap.

She wanted more of the night before. We had twenty minutes before she had to get up. I pointed out that there wasn’t time. We never play for less than twenty minutes. This would be a major quickie.

So we hit the ground running. Fuck like bunnies for a couple of heartbeats, then make Amy masturbate to orgasm, and then finish her off with gusto.  I figured we set a record for speed - it felt like five minutes max.

I grabbed the alarm clock and looked at the elapsed time.

Nineteen minutes.

I think that’s the quote, from the Holy Grail. We had our own take on it, last night.

A quiet day, relatively uneventful. Turned the TV on to see if we could get the Superbowl, but apparently not. Haven’t watched television in a year - only Netflix movies.

So Amy and I checked out some blogs online, and found this video:

It’s about the top ten modern spanking clips, or some such. All pretty tame stuff, although I liked the final clip from “The Secretary.” We’ve added THAT movie to our Netflix queue.

So we are off to bed, and I’m running a slight fever, just enough to make me uncomfortable, but Amy and I settle down quietly.

Then I hear,” I have to ask you something.”

OK.

“May I masturbate?”

What? Working all day, a quiet evening, and now suddenly she wants to masturbate?

This could be fun.

But why?

“I was squirmy all day,” she explains, “and that last video made me real squirmy.”

I tease her about being a slut, and she tries to back out of it, but I make her masturbate anyway. Of course, I can’t just watch - sure sometimes, but not tonght. She’s just too sexy. Halfway through, I get impatient waiting for her and I make her stop so I can fuck her for a while, then I make her masturbate some more. This time I let her cum, then I take her myself and finish in her.

I wasn’t really intersted in sex this evening; too tired and not feeling good.

But making Amy masturbate…

Well, what can I say? It’s hot.

And I had such fun taunting her.

Funny how when you think you aren’t the least bit interested, desire suddenly just charges up out of nowhere and inspires the most marvelous bit of play - so nice of her to ask permission to masturbate - it made the whole evening so much more memorable!

Good girl.

This is an outtake, but it’s very much like Amy with the sexy clothes, and then those big warm fuzzy socks.  Typically, she’d be nude with the fuzzy socks, or maybe wearing her Uggs and nothing else.

Of course, I didn’t know that for sure when I shot this pic, but I had an inkling.

This is from the first time we met, a year ago today.

I thought a picture from that weekend might be appropriate, and bring back a few memories. (Hah!  Like I could ever forget the fun we had THAT weekend!) I had already fallen for her, that weekend just made it all real.  The first touch, the first kiss.

The first all-nighter….

And then the second…

Anyway…

Happy anniversary little baby girl!

I love you lots!

Your Daddy

I awoke in the morning, just the two of us at home.

Predawn, the sky still dark, no signs of any light, and the California rain still damp on the windows.

I rolled up against Amy in the dark, wrapped my arms around her, and lay quietly. She shifted.

I told her to lie still, and I gripped her wrists firmly in my hands, hugging her arms to her like an Egyptian mummy, crossed over her breasts.

Obedience came hard to her this morning, and she continued to move, testing her bonds, trying to wriggle her wrists free.

I rolled her onto her belly and pulled back the duvet, and spanked her hard, a half dozen times, with her delicate voice giving a shocked and unhappy cry after each impact.

“Be still,” I told her.

She could not.

I spanked her again, briefly, with the same little protestations of surprise, and held her again, telling her to be quiet and rest.

To no avail.

A third spanking, and then she stopped struggling, and requested a moment to stretch her arms.

Granted.

The she settled in her back against my chest, her wrists held firm by my right hand, as my left roamed over her body. I stayed away from her most sensitive places, just lightly stroking her tummy, her hips, down below her navel, down farther, getting closed until I slip my hand out over her thigh just before I touch a zone certain to keep her from sleeping.

I pull her wrists together up to her face, letting her breasts spill out from under her crossed arms, and run fingertips along the soft undersides of her breasts.

We lie like this together for some time, she in my arms, my hand stroking her. A half hour, an hour, who knows?

Dawn came.

My girl made little noises, half whimpers, still groggy from the night but getting more awake with the shortening shadows.

I found her nipples.

With her wrists locked, she could just beg, as I played with and teased her nipples. Eventually, she begged to masturbate.

Granted.

But no coming. I enjoyed her desire, and toyed with the thought of having her aroused all day. I balance that with my pleasure in having her orgasm. Two pleasures, both wonderful. Which one did I want more today? Too soon to tell.

She continues to beg. She is so cute, so anxious to cum, while I toy with her nipples, and amuse myself with the need of her body. There can be few pleasures as great as being entirely satisfied, lying with someone so desperate for satisfaction.

I tell her I will count to ten, and then she can come.

I count.

At ten, she cums.

Good girl.

I let her body stop shaking, let the convulsions swindle to just and echo, and then I take her myself, fuck her tired and limp body, for my pleasure, this fucking, not hers, though she is welcome to enjoy it any way she chooses. Or not.

I cum in her as I choose, when I am ready, and she lies quiet and gasping under me, the clouded light of the early morning pure and bright in her eyes.

This is what happens when we don’t post regularly. Last night Richard realized he had a bit of time and decided to write a post.

“Have we done anything? What happened the last time we had sex? I can’t remember.”

“Well, yesterday you were playing with my ass, then you finger-fucked me in my ass and pussy while you teased my nipples. My own squirming woke me up. Then you…”

“Oh yeah. I forgot about that. That was fun.”

“And the day before you gave me my first punishment spanking, and then…”

“Riiiiight. Yeah, that was really hot. OK, I know what I want to write about.”

So he wrote the post (below), except he forgot a bunch of stuff. So I thought I’d give MY spin on it.

First of all, the reason I asked for a spanking (a LITTLE spanking) was because I have been getting sassier and sassier over the last couple of weeks, as my work stress levels have ramped up. Richard has been more forgiving than usual because he understands why it’s happening. But that means I haven’t been getting any negative consequences for increasingly saucy behavior.

We were talking about this while snuggled up in bed and I, feeling guilty for being mouthy and rude, suggested that maybe a LITTLE spanking would help me re-focus. At first he said “Maybe later” but then he perked up (not a good sign) and sat up on the side of the bed.

“Come over here. I’m going to give you an over-the-knee spanking.”

I hesitated. He seemed awfully keen.

“Maybe now’s not a good time. Maybe in the morning would be better?”

“NOW. Get over here. Don’t make me wait.”

So I crawled trepidatiously over to him and laid across his knees, with my toes resting on the floor and my face and arms on the bed.

SMACK!

I squealed. Usually Richard warms up my ass by some gentle spanking before he hits harder. This was really hard, right off the bat.

SMACK!

I squealed again. This one was even harder. Then he started raining down swats on my poor little ass.

I managed to gasp “This isn’t a LITTLE spanking.”

And he replied “No, it’s a punishment spanking. You have been too mouthy lately and I don’t want it to happen anymore. Maybe this will help you remember.”

Every.single.smack. hurt like the dickens. It was not stingy or thuddy, it was just plain hurty. After a while I started crying. I’ve never cried when Richard spanked me, because he’s never spanked me hard like this. Part of me was hoping that my crying would make him want to be gentler.

Doh. When will I “get it” about sadists? He didn’t slow down, he didn’t spank me softer. I suddenly noticed that his cock against my belly had become very hard. He stopped about a minute after I began crying and pulled me up and gave me a big hug and wiped my tears. But before my crying had slowed to sniffling and hiccups he pushed me down onto my back.

“Now I’m going to fuck you.”

I moaned out a “please” or “no” or something, but he just kneed my legs apart and shoved into me. I was shocked by how wet I was. My ass was still hot and sore, but that just made the contrast of the sweet, wet fucking even better.

THEN, after he’d fucked me and cum in me and made me orgasm, THEN we cuddled and touched. He forgot to mention that part.

But he was right that I needed that. I haven’t felt much need to be sassy since then. Or when I do, I keep it to myself.

Afterwards, when we were snuggling, he said “Now are you going to remember who owns you?” and I nuzzled into him, into his big chest and strong arms, and said “Yes Daddy, I’ll remember.”

Ok, so what do I owe you?

Been a very busy period - and I’ve been shooting pics out the ying yang.

Wearing myself out.

So I’ll put a few sexy pics of Amy up over the next few days - it’s the least I can do.

And Amy is going to be so mortified when she sees the title of this post.

Amy got her first punishment spanking last week, which was a big event. Or maybe not. I’ll let her talk about it from her end of it, but I learned something from it as well. - Punishment is hot!

I never thought I’d be all that thrilled about punishment.

I was wrong.

Amy wanted a spanking - I forget why. Chances are she’d done some trivial thing, and felt she needed correction. I probably gave her correction, but she wanted catharsis, I suspect. Anyway, I wanted to do something else - sleep probably, since we were in bed, or maybe read the newspaper and she wanted a spanking, preferably today, so I told her I would give her a spanking.

Right now

I put the startled Amy over my knee, and started spanking.

Hard.

Usually our spankings are more playful, or at the worst sensual, with only a little bit of pain for her. Enough to make it fun, but nothing severe.

This time, I decided to make it a little harsh. I don’t want her asking for a spanking like it’s going to be an easy thing. I want her to know what she is asking for.

I spanked her hard. So hard that I had to switch hands partway through.

I’d smack her hard, my hand cupped slightly for maximum impact. It hit loud and hard, and Amy cried out every time.

Yum.

This was painful, no question. Very sexy. And her naked ass? Sublime.

Amy was crying at one point, but like a very good girl she didn’t once try to cover her ass with her hands. That’s the part I remember the most - that she resisted that temptation.

Finally, I told her she would get three more spanks, and we counted them down. The last spank, and then I wrapped her up in our duvet and put my arms around her, and told her how proud of her I was for taking her spanking like a good girl, and we cuddled and touched.

And the spanking was very sexy - I thought punishment spankings would be all about discipline, and behavior, but it turns out that I had underestimated just how erotic it would be.

Guess who’s keeping a closer eye on someone’s behavior now!

It has been a while since anything Richard has chosen to do to me has shaken me. Some of you will remember that earlier in our relationship, I would regularly experience a crisis of confidence after Richard had ramped things up - by making me sleep at the foot of the bed, or talking about forcing me to have a threesome, or denying me an orgasm.

After each of these things happened for the first time, I would spend a few days processing them. “How can I be a slave, property, a toy, and be loved, too?” was a recurring theme that I would ponder.

I was still learning to accept that I am sexually submissive. The vanilla part of me couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that I was happier and more in love than I have ever been…with a man who is a sadist. A man who wants to control me and hurt me. A man who gets hard when I cry out in pain as he bites me or twists my nipple. Didn’t that make me a pervert?

Richard’s take on this: “So we’re perverts. So what?”

When we visited Megan and her Master a few weeks ago, I experienced a different sort of crisis of confidence when I saw how much more Megan’s Master demanded of her. It made me wonder if I were a pampered princess.

I don’t “top from the bottom”. Richard gets what Richard wants, and he gets it when he wants it. It is not always what I want. But he is a very nurturing and sensitive Master. He is more protective of me than I am. I am not allowed to open my own doors, I can’t open soda cans now that I have acrylic fingernails (and when I did it on my own, boy was I sorry!), he watches that I get enough sleep and don’t work too hard. He monitors how often I orgasm! If I haven’t had an orgasm in a couple of days, he makes it a priority before we go to sleep at night, more of a priority than him having an orgasm.

Doesn’t that sound like more of a princess than a slave?

Megan, as usual, has been wonderfully supportive about this. She could tell that I was feeling insecure and worried about it all, and she took pains to point out the differences in our needs and our dynamics: she is more experienced, she is a pain slut, she is an exhibitionist and loves humiliation play.

Richard simply said that, as he always has, he will continue to demand what he wants from me or simply take it. For him, it’s about control. Giving me pleasure or giving me pain are equivalent, if they lead to him having more control over me. (Not sure I said that right, but I think that’s the gist of it.)

So. Last night. Richard has spent the last three days photographing the southern California fires. He comes home at night dirty, exhausted and aggressive. He has a shower, I feed him dinner and make him a Jack Daniels. Then a second.

We go to bed early, snuggle up and I begin to nod off. But Richard hasn’t been able to settle, and he begins to play with my breasts. Instant squirminess for me. Then he grabs me by the hair and shoves my face down onto his cock. I begin sucking him and playing with his balls. Oh, he tastes so good. Finally I can’t take it anymore and I crawl up his body and slide onto his cock.

…It’s as if I unleashed a beast…

He growls and grabs my hips and starts fucking deep into me. (OK, when I used to fuck “Female Superior” in my vanilla days, I felt very in charge. How can the same position feel so very different with him?)

Then he starts talking about what a slut I am, how he’s never been with anyone even half as slutty as I am, how I need to fuck all the time and he loves it, and how he needs to share me with other men because I need to fuck so much. And he starts handling my breasts as he says all this, and tells me that when he plays with my breasts I turn into such a slut that I would fuck anyone or do anything he said.

Which maybe is true, because I completely lose control when he is playing with my breasts. I can’t see straight, I can’t stop my hips from grinding against him, I can’t stop from moaning and begging.

After he fucks me for a while, I reallyreally need a drink of water. The dry, smoky air here right now isn’t helping. I ask if I can get a drink.

“You want a drink? Right now? Wow, that’s a bit of a mood killer, isn’t it, little girl?”

“Please Daddy. I really need a drink.”

He’s silent for a minute. I wait, perched on top of him.

“Fine. Go get some water. But you have to crawl to the bathroom to get it.”

My mind whirls. He’s never made me crawl before. How humiliating. Maybe I don’t need water so much. I hesitate.

“You’re going to go get the water. Do it now.”

I climb off of him and slowly crawl into the bathroom. He watches me the whole way.

As I fill the water bottle, I realize that he didn’t tell me to crawl BACK. For a moment, I play with the idea of walking back. But then I think that maybe that wouldn’t be a good idea. So I crawl back, holding onto the bottle with one hand.

He grabs me by the hair and pulls me back into the bed, where he fucks me for hours, taunting me with how wet I am and making me cum so hard that every touch of his sends jolts through me for over an hour afterward.

Today I don’t feel like a princess. Today I’m back to thinking that I am a big-time pervert. But I’m a very turned-on pervert. This will take some processing.

He is feeling aggressive these days. His eyes follow me as I cross a room, watching me like a predator watches its next meal. He is impatient if I take too long to come to him when he calls. He wants me near him, so that he can reach out and touch my breast or feel my hair or pull me even closer.When we are in bed together, he pulls me into him and rolls me whichever way it is he wants me. If I am slow in responding, he growls and pulls me more roughly. Sometimes he wants my head on his shoulder, my belly and legs long against his side, one leg thrown across his. Other times he wants me on my side, with my ass tucked into him, my wrists in his firm grip. My arms are wrapped around myself and I feel like a small bundle, unable to move easily until he wills it. When he wishes he unwraps me, either to re-position me or to open me up and play with me.He plays with me like a cat plays with a mouse. From a dead sleep I am rolled onto my back and only vaguely aware of the first few nibbles and pinches. I awaken as his attention to my breasts becomes more persistent. He is playing with them intently, watching them move as he bats at them, seeing the nipples harden and elongate as he tugs. He leans over to taste them and then suckles harder, occasionally nipping as he does.I moan and he looks up, delighted that I am now awake. He rises over me, looking down on me with unconcealed lust. His hand roams over me, brushing the hair from my face, caressing and briefly gripping my neck, running along my breasts and down my belly, into my fur, my soft wetness. He plays with me there. My hips start to move of their own accord, slowly at first and then arching up to meet him.I make little sounds when he plays with me, he tells me. Small moans and squeaks and purrs. He knows that if he continues this way, I will soon be adding whispers and pleas to the sounds. Garbled, but clear to him: fuck me, pleaseplease fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me now. Please.Before he will fuck me, he makes me cum for him. He tells me I can’t have it (”I want it. Please. Fuck me. I need it. Please”) until I cum. He tells me this, he taunts me with it, as he brings me closer and closer to the edge. As he brings me there, his hands and mouth on me are rougher and rougher. I can’t think, I don’t even know I have a brain, all I know is handsmouthsweetpaingodtouchohohoh. I cum, I am racked, I shake, I gasp, I cry out and he is in me fucking me and it is goodgoodgoodsogood. He is deep in me and filling me and there is wet and slick and grinding against me and pushing and I arch to meet him and he cums and shudders and cries out and falls onto me, sweat-slicked and chest against mine. Mine. My man.Later I find small marks on my breasts and my neck. I love them, they are his marks on me. Marks of ownership. I am his.He did not escape unscathed. Both shoulders have yellowing bruises where I bit down. One time he counted more than a dozen, from different encounters. I don’t know that I do it when I do, I am always shocked afterward, when we are in the shower or I see him dressing. I trace them and the animal in me remembers, looks at them through half-hooded eyes.

We went to PowerExchange in San Francisco last Saturday night, the day before the Folsom Street Fair.

We’d spent the day cruising around San Francisco in a convertible which OMIGOD is the way to sightsee! I can’t believe how much more of the city I saw than I ever have before.

PowerExchange doesn’t open until 10 pm and around 8, after a great Italian dinner, I wasn’t sure how I was going to stay awake until then. Even an espresso doppio, drunk in an outdoor cafe while people-watching, didn’t help.

But I survived. We got there at 10:30, after me changing from jeans and a sweater into a mini-dress and heels in the back of the car (not a BIG car).

We went in, and first went through the main floor, which was pretty standard - a shop in which you could buy kinky clothes and floggers, etc, a “bar” without any alcohol, music playing, etc. Very few people were there yet.

We went down into the basement and there was a lot more going on. It was set up as series of rooms off of a main room, with several kinds of spanking benches, a St. Andrew’s cross, etc. There were a few people playing, but a lot more people wandering around looking. This was typical in the LA clubs we’ve been to, as well. The difference here is that the people wandering around were mainly men, mainly naked men. Mainly naked men who were masturbating, many of whom seemed intent upon rubbing up against me or any other nearby woman. I understood at that point why they had set up the third floor, where we went next.

Only couples and single women are allowed on the third floor. It costs more to go there too. Oh, and the couples have to stay together, I guess so that a guy doesn’t ask a woman to come with him so he can get up there and prowl around.

When we first went up almost noone was there. We looked in each of the side rooms, one was a kind of medieval theme with a couple of throne-type chairs and a big table. Another room had a giant bed. Another had a spanking bench and a couch and a smaller (queen size, I think) bed. Another had a pole for pole dancing! The big central room had lots of couchs and beds around the outside. Oh, and the bathroom was for men AND women! That was a little odd, I thought.

We sat on a couch for a bit and snuggled. Richard had been very quiet for most of the day, and I was feeling a little worried about it. It wasn’t just that he was quiet, he seemed more…distant than usual, more disconnected from me. We don’t usually spend two full days without any alone time (except when we went to bed at night) and I think it was affecting both of us.

In my vanilla days, I would have wanted to talk about it: how are you feeling? are you angry? are you upset about anything? But here we were at a BDSM club, and here I was with my Master and Owner. So instead I said “I really love spanking benches. Would you spank me please, Daddy?”

“You want a spanking, little girl? You know there are people around. You want them to see me spank you?”

No, I did not. I did not want to be spanked in front of anyone. But I wanted to feel connected with him again, and I hoped that would do it. So I said “Yes please.”

So he took me by the hand and walked me to the spanking bench and got me settled on it. I let my hair fall over my face so I wouldn’t see if anyone came in.

Richard pulled my dress up over my ass and pulled my panties down and rubbed my ass and my legs until I wiggled. Then he started to spank me.

It was such a wonderful combination, feeling very comfortable on the padded bench and feeling the stinging of the spanking.

Occasionally he would stop and rub my ass again and nuzzle my ear and I would hear people moving through the room.

After a while, he pulled up my panties and pulled down my dress and helped me stand up from the bench. I felt very quiet and shy and submissive - I think this is what people refer to as “sub space” (had to think for a minute; the first thing that came to mind was “sub torpor” - uh, no).

He brought me over to the couch and we sat and talked quietly and he petted me. Another couple came in and lay down on the bed. After kissing and making out for a few minutes, he pulled off her panties and went down on her. She started moaning “Oh yeah, oh that’s good, oh do it to me Daddy.”

I was a little surprised that they were totally going for it right in front of us, but it was interesting. After a while, they got up and wandered out into the main room. We got up a few minutes later and did the same; I think we would have fallen asleep if we had stayed there.

The main room had picked up while we were inside. There were several couples in various stages of foreplay or out-and-out fucking in the beds along the edge of the room. Other couples were walking around the room and would stop and watch at different beds.

One guy was getting a blowjob from a girl, and he was very interested in seeing who was watching them. He kept looking over his shoulder to see who was there, and finally turned her around so he could see better. We noticed that he lost his erection whenever people weren’t looking. Now THAT’S an exhibitionist.

People all around us were fucking and that’s when I realized: I am TOTALLY not vanilla anymore. The vanilla sex was boring to me. I kept wanting one of them to swat his partner on the ass, or grab her by the neck, or SOMETHING for god’s sake. To make it interesting. Because just watching them fuck, while it was clearly doing it for the couples that were wandering from bed to bed watching, was not doing anything for me. Richard said he felt the same way.

We got up and wandered around the club again, to see what was going on on the other floors and in the other rooms. What was going on was lots of sex, but almost exclusively vanilla sex.

In one room, there were two couples having sex. One guy was fucking a woman from behind, while another woman played with her breasts. The first woman reached over and started playing with the second woman’s pussy. The second woman’s partner was fondling her breasts and kissing her and mainly watching what was happening.

Richard walked me back to our couch, holding onto my wrist as we went. We sat down and just watched all the sex happening around us. He was quietly rubbing my shoulder and dragging a finger along my neck and the side of my face. He rubbed the back of my neck, then wound his fingers through my hair. Suddenly he tightened his hold on my hair and pulled my head back until my neck was straining.

I looked up at him, startled. His eyes looked eery in the blacklight, like a demon or a vampire. He stared down at me as he traced my lips and my chin and then down to my chest and along my bra. He leaned over, not releasing his hold, and nibbled along my jaw and to my lips. He bit down on my lip and I reflexively pulled away.

Not a good idea. He pulled back harder on my hair, so hard that I had to strain to stay upright. He bit my lip again, harder. I closed my eyes and tried to relax, realizing that he was in no mood for me to fight him. Something had made him aggressive, I didn’t know what, and I was going to have to ride it out.

He continued to hold my head back with his hand in my hair, releasing it at one point only to change his hold. He slowly, gently dragged the tips of his fingers along my face and neck, dipping occasionally into the neckline of my low-cut dress.

My heart started to race, thinking of all the people watching everything that was happening in the room. I didn’t want them to see my breasts. But Richard didn’t care. His fingers would move away from my breasts and I would start to relax. Then his grip would tighten in my hair and his teeth would find the side of my neck or my cheek and I would clench. He would nuzzle me for a bit and loosen his hold and I would relax again. And then he would pull my hair back even farther, so that the whole expanse of my neck and chest were exposed, and push aside my bra with his fingers and pinch and tease my nipples. It was such an incredible juxtaposition of sensations: the brief, sharp pain of being bitten, the dull ache of having my head held back, the exquisite feeling of my breasts being tugged and pinched that made a direct connection to my throbbing, soaking wet cunt. And over it all, the feeling of being completed owned and dominated.

It went on for an eternity. I felt incredibly awkward and shy, yet at the same time more excited and aroused than I think I have ever been. The next day, when we were talking about it and began to fuck, I came harder and longer than I can ever remember. Does that make me an exhibitionist?

Now I’m going to go make dinner for the family - homemade chicken enchiladas. It’s getting cooler here, so I can use the oven again. I’m going to be baking bread this weekend too. It was wonderful going away on such an adventure, but it’s also really nice to be home again.

xoxoAmy