“You will clamp your nipples this morning as you shower and you will describe how it feels in detail. I’m thinking of how you are going to please me when we are together. I want you to take my cock all the way down your throat.”
I had planned in this post to pick up Sir X’s fantasy in “Diary of an Affair,” Part Two, beginning with him coming into the hotel room to find me bare-assed with a variety of implements nearby. That inspired an interesting email exchange between us. He has asked me to bring the following toys and implements from Babeland to our rendezvous in D.C. next week: the Medium Pink Flogger, Candy Apple wrist restraints, rope, the Mona vibe, TWO, Pink Vibrating Nipple Clamps, Protouch Plug, Squeel—and purchase a wooden spoon and wooden hair brush with natural bristles. Now I will wait to write about what happens to that ass (and the rest of me) until I can report on the experience, not imagine it.
We have moved rather quickly to a new place. A week ago he wrote:
You are mine now. I will treat you with the respect you deserve. You have my permission to maintain your current relationships with the two lucky men that are privileged to enjoy your female delights. But you must tell me what goes on when you have them. If you don't there will be consequences.
You now need to tell me what items of pain and pleasure you have. You also must keep a camera with you at all times. You are going to take the pictures I tell you to take.
If you agree with this we can continue.
I almost can't breathe.
Yes, I do agree.
I love this. I am his. I want him to give me orders. My pussy is engorged just thinking about it.
“I intensely desire to see you right now, partially unclothed, squeezing your breasts and nipples. I am feeling the power exchange—and my desire to tease and torment you with both denial of the sex you want and the intense sensations of pain at the same time is very strong. My testicles are in pain with the need to explode deep, deep inside you as your cunt spasms tight around my cock.
“I am so fucking hard right now. My cock is throbbing against this lap pad my laptop is on.
“Tomorrow morning, I will send you the first Rules of the Day.
”I am in charge of your sexual release now. You may not have an orgasm unless I permit it. Do not masturbate unless I give you permission to do so.”
First shopping list:
“Pink leather flogger to strap you ass;
Wooden hairbrush, must have natural fibers which I drag across your breasts, especially your hard, erect nipples.
Wooden spoon to spank your pussy.”
“Take two ice cubes and hold them against your nipples for four minutes. Tell me how it feels.”
Second order, that day:
“Put two wash clothes in the basin and fill with hot water. Put the ice cubes on your nipples for four minutes. Now squeeze water out of the clothes and apply them to your nipples. Tell me how it feels.”
It is exquisitely exciting to do what he tells me to do. My nipples burned and went numb by the fourth minute. In the second exercise the warmth brought them painfully back to feeling—like the nipple clamp coming off, only softer, different. Oh, god, I wanted to masturbate, but I didn’t.
He sent a video of him masturbating to ejaculation.
“Your reward for being a pleasing obedient woman. You may not play this until tomorrow morning
“You may not masturbate until you have watched the video three times, or you may watch as much as you want but you must wait 90 minutes to touch yourself. I want you squeezing your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples, and you must use the ice cubes on your nipples when you masturbate to this video.”
I am thrilling to the idea of him being in charge. The video is so hot. I felt intimately connected to his cock watching it work toward ejaculation; and I wanted that cum everywhere. No wonder we instantly trusted one another and felt such an immediate connection. His suppressed dominant and my repressed submissive recognized each other at "hello."
I can barely breath when I think about all the things he will do to me, how he will tease and torment—and own— my body and then bring me to such a level of extreme pleasure. I fantasize looking into his eyes as he torments my nipples and I almost orgasm at both the anticipation of the pain and the excitement of sharing the experience with hin so intimately--and, of course, the intensity of the ultimate pleasure.
This morning, I put on the clover clamps—wicked—and walked around in them for about five minutes until my nipples were numb. Then I tugged the chain, automatically tightening their grip and gasped. So much for numb. I got into the shower. Running first cold, then hot, then cold again water over my clamped nipples brought them stingingly back to life. Out of the shower, I unclamped them and almost cried out from the sudden intense pain--a pain I felt in my groin, tickling its way into my pussy. God I wanted him to be the one unclamping them.. I put the flats of my palms against my nipples to feel the heat and then held them throbbing between my fingertips. I wanted his fingers on them.
Afterward, I couldn't get him out of my head........
and there is something else I have to acknowledge: I am drawn to this man on so many levels; I "get" him. I like him. I know who he is, one of those men, long married to or involved with a woman who isn't interested in his body anymore, if she ever was. They are the men whose dog persona is more "whipped" than "dawg!" pulling after work into the parking lots of Hooters, Fridays, Houliahans, Ruby Tuesdays--into the strip clubs and the sports bars-- no longer looking for love, yet still longing, even if their desire is buried deep. The firm young female flesh on display connects them with their youth, when last they felt desired.
He called one night from Hooters where he was supposed to meet a friend for a drink. "I was so late, he'd left already. Here I am alone drinking a beer and looking at, well, the hooters. These girls are so young. If I flirt with them, I think, This isn't right..."
"I want you so much; I want to do so many things to you, but I also....I want to talk to you. I really do."
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