Poly Play – Part Two

I’m told I’m a tease to leave Poly Play just sitting out there without wrapping up the story.  What can I say, I’m a cock tease, but I always come through with the goods. 😜

There wasn’t much left to the story but it seemed more than could be told in one telling.  I never saw it but Coupe and Lady got hot and heavy on the chaise lounge after we vacated it.  Damn, I miss all the good stuff.  I’d have paid good money to see that.  

After kissing El Jefe and coming over to Daddy to see if he approved of all I had done, I didn’t see much else.  I was still wondering how Coupe was taking all this.  Even though I’m quite timid myself sometimes, I worried about how he was taking this initial foray into Poly life.  

Daddy pointed in front of him and put a pillow down for me to kneel. He pulled his shorts down and commanded me to suck.  I was at once thankful to be given this duty and relieved that I would be occupied with something that kept me from view.  I was feeling overwhelmed by it all and suddenly shy.  I took his cock in my mouth and wrapped my arms around his legs.  My face was completely hidden by his thighs and my hair. Blessed anonymity, I love you so.

Apparently, while I was going down on Daddy, Coupe was also getting a blowjob right behind me on the chaise. I saw and heard nothing. Goddess and El Jefe were on the couch next to us basking in the glow of their experience. 

Goddess leaned over and gave Daddy a kiss.  After a while of me going down on him, he chose for me to stop.  I came up for air and joined the conversation with El Jefe and Goddess. Coupe and Lady and disappeared to their room.  Later, Lady told us she had taken Coupe to the room for a proper fucking.  

As the four of us were talking, Coupe and Lady came to the sliding glass door naked and made faces at us through the glass. Coupe pressed his naked ass to the steamy glass and what a cute, tight, young ass it was too.  I had never seen him naked before.  Seems I missed quite a lot while I was face down in Daddy’s lap. 

Daddy took me into our room and fucked me hard. His hand on my neck, his voice whispering to me that I was his.  I was his slut, his slave, his whore.  Damn that gets me twisted up in such an incredible fervor.

Later in the afternoon, I was on the couch with Lady.  I think everyone was having snacks at that point.  After all the sex and alcohol, everyone was hungry.  I had my head on Lady’s lap.  She was whispering things to me as the others talked and ate. I was still in a bit of a stupor from the day. 

“You love being watched.  You love being the center of attention.  You little tease, you love us watching you and seeing you on display. You perform for us and we want to see what you do.” As she whispered such provocative things in my ear I wondered about them.  Do I? Do I love being watched? Am I hungry for that kind of attention? I honestly didn’t know if she was reading me or talking about her desire to watch. I had only been a helper in the events of that particular day.  I was not at all the center of things.  Goddess and El Jefe were the birthday pair and we treated them thusly.  In my drunken musings as I listened to Lady’s words I wondered about what I was and what I wanted to be.  Food for thought, anyway.

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Tits

After the mad melee of Goddess yanking off my bikini top in the pool and with my bikini straps now well and double-tied, Daddy felt it was safe to leave me alone in the pool again with the girls. 

Daddy was in the hot tub and the other men were talking amongst themselves. The girls were still soaking in the pool. Goddess had calmed down and I had a buzz.  Things were equaling out.

You will need a little background for this story.  Painted Lady is the epitome of a lady.  She has a regal quality to her.  She strikes you as above the crowd and somewhat aloof when you first meet her.  But the more I have gotten to know her, the more I see how down to earth she can be.  I love her sense of humor and her openness. She works to broaden her experiences and her sexual knowledge.  I admire her for that.

One thing I heard when I first met her was that she does not tolerate certain words being used. We all have trigger words.  One of hers is tits.  Don’t tell her she has lovely skin and don’t use the word tits.  You’d think it would be an easy enough rule.  But in this group, for some reason, it seems to be immeasurably hard.  

Most of the time it is people poking fun.  If no one knew she had an aversion to the word, I doubt it would be used 1/10 as much.  By it’s such a fun word! Jugs denote large ones, breasts are so vanilla in tone, mammaries are too scientific, but tits or titties are so much more descriptive. They sound so cute and perky to me.  To Painted Lady though, the word sounds vulgar.

On the drive down, Painted Lady had control of the music.  We listened to some great music all the way to Mexico.  At one point, she put on a rap song. “Oh here is my only rap song, you’ll love it.” She says. It starts and two phrases in the rapper says tits. Goddess and I were shocked.

“He said tits!” Goddess said, as we both waited for Painted Lady to respond. 

“Well, I like the song and I’m growing.” She said.  We had talked earlier in the drive about growth and becoming more comfortable in our own skin. 

“Oh good, then I can say tits finally.” Goddess said.

Painted Lady made a generally acquiescent sound.  “I think I can handle it now.” She said. I was impressed.  She was going to allow it.  

Goddess took it for carte blanche and sang with gusto, “Tits, tits, titties, titties, tatas, titties, tits!” 

“I take it back! Stop that right now!” Painted Lady said.  And just as soon as we had open permission it was taken away. 

“Aw, you went and overused our free pass.” I joked.  I was laughing in the back seat.  I love these girls. We have endless fun together. 

So, back in the pool, we were talking and tipsy.  The subject of breasts came up again.  I can’t remember why. 

I think I said to them, “I’ll show you my boobs whenever you like.  I just didn’t want to flash the entire pool.” Goddess said something about tits and we were off again with Painted Lady grumbling about the word. 

Then her face lit up like a Christmas tree. “How about this, if I say that word…”

“What, tits?” Asked Goddess, knowing damned well that’s what Painted Lady meant. I could see her eyes twinkle with mischief as she said it.

“Yes.” Painted Lady said with exasperation. “I’ll say that word if you each show me yours when I say it.”

Goddess seemed ready to do what it took to get Painted Lady to do the unthinkable.  I was along for the ride.  We looked at each other and said simultaneously, “Alright.”

Painted Lady pointed her finger at each of our breasts one by one as she said, “Tits, tits, tits, tits. There, that’s four times. I get to see them all for that.”

Goddess and I dutifully flashed Painted Lady our tits.  Then she quickly repeated the game. “Tit, titty, tit, tits. Again!” She was really warming to this game now. We flashed her again and again.  Painted Lady got her money’s worth that day for putting aside her dislike of that word. 

Power Dynamic

Such is the rhythm of my life at the moment that I start to write and don’t get back to finish for weeks.  We have had a couple intense sessions recently but I can’t write them with enough details to do them justice. It begs the question, if kinky sex happens and no one writes a blog about it, did it happen at all?

I’m doing my best to write. Random stuff, unnecessary stuff, non-sexual, non-kinky stuff, because if I don’t I fear I’ll stop writing altogether. The most lifestyle related thing I’ve been doing lately is reading a book on the Master/slave dynamic called, Living M/s. What a great book. It is written in sections by a Master and a slave currently living a 24/7 power exchange relationship. So many things they talk about resonate with me.

I was trying to explain the book and my thoughts on it to Daddy. I’m not sure I did such a great job. One thing the slave talks about is how the power exchange in her vanilla relationships was always a problem. That there was always a faltering kind of competitiveness and resentments that would crop up over inconsequential things. This is absolutely what I had in my marriage. I couldn’t put a name to it for years, but there was always a constant tit-for-tat undercurrent in my first marriage. I’d make dinner and expect that he’d do the dishes. He wouldn’t. Then I’d get resentful. He’d ask me to do something for him and I’d feel put out and so I’d do it begrudgingly. He didn’t deserve my serving him because I was pissed about something else minor. 

After decades of this, I was inadvertently introduced to the D/s lifestyle. Everything I read about power exchange relationships made such incredible sense! Why guess and compete and struggle for who is in charge in a relationship? It’s so damned hard and so useless. I could immediately see the wisdom in choosing roles. When my mindset is to be his submissive, to serve and to put him before me in my considerations, life is good. I am at peace. I am filled with contentment.

Daddy wrote up a contract for me to agree to before we began on our journey together. I’ll have to share it at some point. One of his desires was to have me submit in private but for us to be equals in public. Honestly, I think about this a lot. I continue to want to push deeper and deeper into this lifestyle. Even right now, while we’re mainly living a vanilla life, stressed and struggling our way through major life changes, I feel myself on this ever present quest to get back to what is deeper, to submit more, to have my whole being committed to him in this power play. But is that what he wants? Would I want to give up power completely or more than I can imagine now?  

I know a few things so far.  When I am conscious of the power dynamic, I am alive.  I feel connected to him. I feel the raw, sexual energy flowing between us. When I don’t feel it, I falter.

Focus

With the impending move, I feel like our lives are on hold or in a curve of the road. At any time, the wheel will turn and we’ll be heading in a different direction. It puts me in a holding pattern. For someone so focused on forward movement and
the ever present to-do list, it is challenging for me. Mr. D moved in not too long ago now. We’re past the unpacking but still in the organizing/downsizing/hanging pictures phase. Now the pictures just sit on the floor in the bedroom. I want to hang his pictures, make him feel like this is his home too. But, soon it won’t be. What does a nesting submissive do in this situation?
So far, I am continuing to do many of the things I set out to do in order to make our dynamic work in a house with a child. I serve Mr. D in all the ways I am able. I cook the family dinner most nights. I dress for him. I’ve only worn pants to work 3 days over the past 2 months. I have a growing selection of dresses I wear expressly to please him. I’m close to converting my entire wardrobe to ultra-feminine clothes that please Daddy. I get compliments all the time at work now. Even for a conservative place, I’m able to step up my femininity so that when I arrive home from work Daddy is pleased with what he sees. I’m still working on wearing makeup more often. I’ve been lax on that since motherhood took over my life and it’s slow to return. I do wear it for him when we go out but I want to be better at this for him. Like any new habit, I try to start it, and then I have to try again when I completely forget that it was a goal.
I’m taking good care of all of us with food selections. I do my best to feed my men healthy meals. I keep the house as clean as I’m able with as packed as our little place is with stuff. Each month I take a couple boxes of things to the Salvation Army. Slowly and steadily I make small changes and we become more organized and more comfortable in our space.
Last night, Mr. D and I looked online at houses in the Dallas area. I felt excited to see all the possibilities there. We saw several houses and narrowed down a bit what we each like and want in a home. The houses are larger there and less costly than here. It makes me happy and hopeful to focus on the fun, exciting part of our coming move. I’m pretty good at not stressing about the hard parts generally. I consciously have to choose not to think about those things at all and to put them away for now. Things like, how will my son react to moving? Will he settle in and be happy there? Will his dad fight us over moving him out of state? How will all this work? Am I going to make one of my men unhappy so the other will be happy? How do I follow my heart and still be true to being a good mom? At the moment, I choose to set this entire mental conversation aside. It’s pointless. One day at a time. At least I learned that from Alanon.

Left You Hanging

So, I wrote Coming Alive Again, part one and promptly left you guys hanging for weeks.  I feel really bad about that.  And now it’s been so long since that play session with Mr. D that I don’t honestly think I can do it justice.  Perhaps he can refresh my memory so I can finish it. 

Have I told you that Mr. D got a job offer in another state? He did and today he got the actual verbal offer.  So, soon it will be a done deal.  He will move to Texas ahead of me and I’ll go later.  With family and my son to plan for, it will take me time to move.  I hope and pray this goes as planned.  

My main concern is that my son’s dad will throw out a major road block which, really, he would have every right to do.  How will my son react to me wanting to move him to another state?  No idea.   He’s just starting his teen years.  He already has a full emotional plate.

I just wanted to stop in, say hello, break my stressy writers block by talking a little about what’s on my mind.  I figured if I did that and stopped trying to return to where I’d left off that at least I’d be writing again. 

Slave Tales: The Hunt (XXII) – “The Ancient Ritual”

You’ve just got to love her thoughts on cock worship. There is nothing like getting lost in worshipping a fine cock.

I love giving my all to that endeavor.

Besos de Cuero

Continues from Slave Tales: The hunt (XXI)

Image12

Image – author unknown

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The erect cock was recently shaved and perfumed, its texture was hard and smooth, like a firmly flexed muscle. Glistening wet it shone darkly in the moonlight, as if it were covered in a thin coat of melted chocolate.

I licked my lips. I couldn’t help it.

I moved closer until I was kneeling squarely opposite the crucified slave boy with my face just inches from his cock. Then I slowly raised my hands up to the upraised trunk with both my palms underneath it facing up, as if I were receiving a gift. I held it like that very carefully for a moment and then blessed it.

The blessing of the cock is an ancient ritual. There are two holy symbols in our religion. The Cock and the Cunt. Both beautiful. Both vital. Both divine. Two conduits…

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Coming Alive Again

We were having a relaxing day. Breakfast was done and he went out to have a cigar.  Usually that means he is occupied for about an hour.  I decided to have a shower and get dressed so we could go run some errands when he was done. 

I dried off and put on a sexy pair of red lace thong panties for later. As I was pulling a pair of jeans shorts over the panties I looked down the hall and Daddy was standing there watching me. My heart raced a little.  He pointed at my shorts and lowered his finger to the ground.  Oh my, I don’t think we’re going to the store, I thought as I lowered the shorts. 

I kept my eyes on him as he walked down the hall.  He looked me up and down as I stood there in nothing but panties.  “Very nice. I was wondering where you had gone.  I called for you but no answer.” He said as he kissed me.

“Sorry Daddy, I was showering.”

“I see that now.  I was ready to have a nice relaxing blowjob while I had my cigar but you weren’t around.”

“I’m sorry Daddy.” I felt bad.  I had inadvertently missed a cue.

“You should be. Put on your collar and meet me in the dining room.” Then he was gone.  My heart raced faster. I threw off the wet towel on my head, shook out my wet hair and followed him to the dining room.

The chairs were pulled out from the table and the table was clear of everything but the red tablecloth that was on it. He wasn’t there at first.  He came in from the patio holding a length of rope as I was surveying the room.  “Lean over the table, arms out.”  I did as told, stretching my body across the table.  My thighs were up against the edge with my ass out and my breasts on the table top. “Is that a good height?” He asked.  We had never played on this table before.  My grandmother’s dining table. 

“Yes Daddy, it’s good.” I stretched my body out on its surface, my arms in front of me.  When he’s tied me before it’s been on his padded spanking bench or a bed.  The hard table was something new.  He looped the rope several times then laced my wrists in the loops.  He tied me off across the  table to the adjacent bar. Fortunately the bar does not currently have wineglasses in it. “You know the words that will release you if needed?” He asked.  I told him I did.  Our safe words are the standard ‘red’ and ‘yellow’.

Now, I’m stretched across the table with my feet steady on the ground and my ass presented to him.  His hands caress all over my back, butt, and thighs.  I close my eyes to enjoy the warm up for I know some of what is to come.  First, he spanked me barehanded.  He has big, warm hands.  He is incredibly strong and I felt his power in those first strikes.  He spanked me and I bounded forward on the table from the force.  My grandmother’s table creaked under me.  Randomly, I thought of Daddy just recently gluing and fixing the chairs and that he might end up having to do the same to the table.  The strange places one’s mind wanders at the beginning of a beating.

I tilted my head to the side, the table was hard under me.  Daddy had tied me with play in the line so I could move around a bit.  He picked up an implement, possibly an English riding crop and I felt the sting of it.  There were warm up taps all over my ass then he struck me hard.  I know I squirmed and let out breathy noises.  I really try to breath and take as much as possible.  His fingers pushed between my legs and felt my sex.  I was already growing wet and we’d only just started. He positioned the crop up against my clit and moved it back and forth in rapid succession.  It teased my clit so much.  There isn’t enough room between my thighs for any big strikes so I relaxed and pushed out my ass to give Daddy more access. 

His fingers pushed against my clit and rubbed hard.  I moaned into the tabletop.  Next, I felt and heard something different, something new. The sound was light. It was oh so stingy. He was relentless with the swatting implement.  At one point I was close to my breaking point and said,”No please, no Daddy.” Whimpering to him and hoping he’d stop. 

“You’re asking the wrong person, Daddy’s not here.” I had no idea what he meant, I just wanted the stinging to stop.  The cheeks of my ass were getting most of the onslaught and I was close to crying.  

Again I said,”Please Daddy, please no more!” 

“Daddy’s not here, Daddy is the nice one.” He said as he continued to beat my ass with the stingy thing.  “You know how to properly beg for what you want, slave. Or do you no longer want to be my slave?” What? Wait. I did? Oh yes! I did know. It finally occurred to me, my proper protocol.

“Please Sir…please Sir!” I said.  My voice quavered. Pitiful little voice.

“That’s better, slave.” The stinging stopped, thank god. He moved to my side and roughly lifted my head by my hair.  I looked up at him and he kissed me.  I clung to his lips like a castaway on a sinking ship.  Our connection, his lips, these were my saviors right then. “You know what that was, don’t you?”  I shook my head.  “That was the stingy toy you bought for Goddess.” He showed me the toy.  It was a crop with a long handle and a plastic red hand for the swatting end.  I had bought it to tease Goddess and now he was using it on me.

“Lift yourself up.” He said.  I raised up on my forearms, my breasts only slightly on the table.  He chose a different crop this time.  It felt like a crop but slightly different.  It was less stingy, easier on my skin.  He peppered my back with a light smattering of hits.  He focused some stronger strikes on my shoulders which felt almost like a massage.  I loved that.  

After some time spent using the second crop he switched to his heavy flogger.  This flogger is well oiled leather so it feels very heavy on the skin.  He used it mainly on my ass.  The tops of my asscheeks took many hard hits.  It hits so heavily that it felt like I was being punched with it. Each strike forced out a blast of breath and a staccato sound from me. Wetness from my pussy coated the insides of my thighs. He stopped for a moment and rubbed his hard cock against my heat emitting ass.  “See what you do to me?” He said.  I pushed back against him.  I wanted him inside me so badly.  He teased me with his body pushed up against mine, his hands pushing up under my chest to grab my breasts.  I moaned shamelessly for him.  

He continued flogging me.  My back and ass took the heat.  Finally he rested.  I could hear his labored breathing.  It is quite a workout to flog and beat someone like that.  He untied me from the bar and grabbed the rope at my wrists.  He pulled me unceremoniously down the hall to our bedroom. I saw rive let’s of sweat running down his back.  “Get on the bed.” He said as he wiped the sweat from his brow.  He untied me and said, “Keep your arms out on the bed, do not move them. Eyes closed.”  After being tied for so long, he knew all I ached for was to touch him.  Damn it, I thought.  I could have cried right then.  I wanted connection. “Legs spread, knees bent.”  He mounted the bed with his cock against my pussy. Connection, I would get. 

To be continued…