Archive for April, 2007

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Fantasy: How I stopped worrying and learned to love pointy-toed shoes

April 30, 2007

Your email said:
>>> Don’t you wish you could fuck yourself with it right now?

My cunt throbbed. My face flushed. The thought of that pointy toe in my pussy was very hot indeed. But here, at work, at my desk? Doing so would be so very slutty, so very nasty. I hesitated, then wrote,

>> Yes, if it would please you for me to do so.

and quickly hit send before I could change my mind.

Your response came back quickly.

> It would please me. Do it now, and make it good. Write to me about it after.

My face flushed again. My heartbeat sped up – fear, embarrassment, but also anticipation. Lust. I got up from my chair and closed my office door.

How to begin? On warm sunny days like today, my office gets very warm. I took off my jacket, so I was wearing just my camisole on top. I lifted the shoe to my lips, and ran it across them, enjoying the smooth sleekness of the patent leather, and the vaguely artificial smell that also managed to be somehow erotic. I licked the toe, and the heel, running my tongue up and down the shaft, just like I’d done with my fingertips earlier during my conference call.

I undid my pants. Lifted my ass and slid them down to my knees. I could feel the rough fabric of the chair underneath my ass, and as I felt trickles of wetness in my cunt, I wondered (hoped?) if I would find a wet spot beneath me when I finished.

I continued to kiss and tongue the shoe, but turned my attention to my clit, rubbing it with my index finger, stroking it in time with the flickering of my tongue on the shoe. I imagined how it would feel inside of me, filling me, and as I pushed a finger into my dripping cunt, I sucked the toe of the shoe deep into my mouth, pushing it as far back as it would reach. Shoes are the wrong shape to deepthroat, sadly, but I enjoyed the tension in my face muscles as they stretched to accommodate its girth.

My finger, then fingers, worked in my pussy – opening it up for what was to come – while my thumb continued to flick at my clit. One, two, three fingers, and my pussy was a roaring fire of heat and my head spun with the sensations.

I licked the toe of the shoe well to lubricate it, and took it out of my mouth. I slid down on my chair so that my cunt was at the very edge of the seat, almost hanging over it, and my legs were spread wide. Then I took out my fingers and pushed the toe of the shoe into my dripping hungry pussy. I gasped, enjoying its shape, its cool smoothness. With one hand, I worked the shoe in and out of my hole, while the other hand worked furiously at my clit, until I came in an explosion of creamy wetness.

Reluctantly, I withdrew the shoe. Brought it to my lips, and carefully, reverently, licked off my juices, cleaned it until it was good as new. Put it back in its shoe box with its mate, to wait until it – like me – was called into your service again.

(Note: I wrote this as a fantasy, but after writing it I was so horny I wrote to my owner and begged him to let me do it for real. Which he did. So I did. That was the moment that shoes went from “something kinky I do because it’s a turn on for him” to “something that makes me hot to think about.”)

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Fantasy: Crossed Arms

April 27, 2007

(Instruction: “For now, send me a punishment fantasy.”)

At the party, I know I’ve done something wrong, but I can’t tell what it is. But you’ve given me the look, the one that says “We can’t talk about this now, but you’re in for it later.”

As soon as we get back to the hotel room, you push me against the wall, getting my full attention instantly. You tell me take off my dress and panties, but leave my stockings and shoes on. Then you push me to my knees, and tell me to hold the position. My chin drops and I look at the floor. “Yes, sir, thank you, sir.”

You come behind me and slide leather cuffs around each wrist, then tie them together. Then you take a tie and bind the upper part of my arms as well, just above the elbows. My shoulders are pulled back, my breasts jut out, nipples standing at attention. It doesn’t hurt much – yet – but I know that I’ll soon start to feel the unusual pose in my muscles.

“Do you know what you did wrong, slut?” I shake my head no, then, knowing you will want to hear it from me, say “No, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

You stand in front of me, and slap my nipples, first one, then the other. “I bought you this beautiful dress, so I could show you off.” Slap. “My property, my slut.” Slap. “Yes sir,” I gasp, “thank you sir.”

“But every time I looked at you tonight (slap), you had your arms crossed over your chest.” Another slap.

My face flushes. I remember how many times you have told me, not to cross my arms, not to hide my body. Your body. That this is your body to display, and you want it on display, not hiding away. And I realize then why this particular bondage – there will be no crossed arms for me tonight.

You pull me up to my feet. You run your hands over my body, stopping to pinch my nipples, already sensitive from your slaps. Then you bend me over onto the bed. It’s one of those extra tall hotel beds, so my upper body is across the bed, but my legs are straight, and I spread them slightly for better balance. My ass is right there, and just as I realize what a target it makes, I feel your first hard smack on it. Then another. And another. More. I gasp, and grunt, reflexively pull away from the strikes as best I can in the position I’m holding, but then force myself back to receive again. You pause for a moment, and push your finger into my cunt. “Wet, just as I suspected,” you say. “I knew you would be. Now that’s a good little slut.”

You insert another finger, and then a third. One on my clit, and I’m writhing again, but this time from pleasure, mixed with the growing ache in my arms and shoulders from the way my arms are tied.

The next thing I know, your fingers are gone, but your cock appears in their place. You’ve undone your pants just enough to pull your cock out, and as you drive yourself into me, I can feel the rough denim of your jeans scraping against my bright red ass.

As you slam into me, hitting my cervix, making me yelp in pleasure and pain, you tell me to repeat “I will not cross my arms” as you fuck me. And I do, as best I can, until I can’t do anything but gasp and grunt and cry out, and then your semen fills my cunt.

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Fantasy: Hands

April 25, 2007

(Instruction: “Sit perfectly still and imagine my hands on you. Imagine them however you want, as intimately as you can. Imagine them fully, and feel the imagination in your cunt. Feel it fully. Don’t move a muscle, though.”)

At first I imagined you grabbing my face and turning it towards you. Face grabbing was one of the first things you did (so long ago now) that made me realize who and what you were, what you could offer me, what I so desperately needed. From there, my thoughts kind of drifted along, trying to find something to latch on to – your hands on my breasts, brushing my nipples. Teasing my labia. Pulling me over your lap and spanking my ass. Then I remembered the sharp sting of your hand when you slap my cunt, and I stayed with that one for a while. I imagined you slapping me there repeatedly, while in between each blow I thanked you, begged for another, and forced my legs apart so I could receive it. How exquisite an experience that is – the exquisite pain of your hand on my most delicate area, paired with the exquisite pleasure of my submission to your will. Ahhh.

Thinking about that got my cunt warming, and my mind and your hands started to wander. I pictured myself standing in the middle of a room. Short skirt, unbuttoned shirt, black heels – much like the picture you sent me today, although collarless. You are measuring and inspecting me with your hands – it is as if I am on the auction block, and you are determining my worth. You lift my chin, turn my face, inspect it. Then my breasts – you weigh each one, first from outside my shirt and then inside. You brush the nipples to see my reaction, see me stiffen and gasp. Your hands move down my body, pinching my skin here and there, assessing my assets and deficiencies. You pull the skirt up around my waist, and begin to inspect my cunt. You tug on the labia, outside and in. Find my clit and hold your finger there until my body starts to move of its own volition (in my fantasy – in reality I am still holding perfectly still). Then you pull a rubber glove on to your hand, apply some lube, and push a relentless finger into my tight asshole to investigate it as well.

Here, sitting in my chair, my cunt throbs and my nipples harden, but then the fantasy drifts away on its own. Like you, it decides when it’s done with me. Your hands wander a bit about me body, but then I open my eyes, look at the picture of you and I on my desktop, and write you this email.

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Fantasy: Sex Club

April 23, 2007

We’re in a sex club, or at a sex party, somewhere that there are other people. I’m lying on a table, your collar around my neck, leather cuffs around my wrists. My legs are spread, and held open by spreader bar attached to leather cuffs around my ankles. I’m wearing gorgeous patent leather pointy toed shoes, seamed stockings and a lace g-string. You lean over and kiss me deeply, and just as my body is straining up to reach you, you pull away and slap my face. “Whose slut are you?” you demand. “Your slut,” I say, as loud as I can. “That’s right,” you say. “And what will you do to please me?” “Anything. Everything.”

You blindfold me. I lie, waiting, dripping from my cunt, my nipples hard and erect, my clit throbbing, desperate to rub against something, anything. I feel something cold at my pussy, and the next thing I know you’ve pushed a dildo deep into me. I gasp with pleasure, then I wait like that, cunt filled with the dildo. I wait as long as I can, but it doesn’t take long before the sensation of it lying still against my g-spot and against my cervix becomes unbearable, and I start to rock my hips, moving the dildo inside of me. As soon as I do, I feel your hand on me. “Stop moving,” you say. “Yes sir,” I moan. I stop the rocking of my hips, although I can’t do anything about the trembling that runs through my entire being.

I feel cold again, this time at my ass, as you slip a butt plug into me. I inhale my breath sharply. “Thank you, sir.” A moment passes. “Please sir, please may I move my hips? I’m trying hard, but I don’t think I’ll be able to keep still much longer. Please, sir? Please let me be your slut?” You give me your permission, and I begin rocking my pelvis. The feeling of the butt plug and the dildo both inside of me is so intense. My breath quickens, my cunt gushes, my nipples grow even harder.

And then I feel you get up on the table. You straddle my face. “Open your mouth,” you say, and I do. You shove your cock into my mouth, down my throat. I reach up with my hand to pull and tug on your balls while you fuck my face. My pelvis thrashes around so much that the dildo slips out of my cunt.

Before it can come completely out, it is shoved back into me. In my haze of sensation it takes me a moment to remember that it can’t be you – you’re fucking my face, it can’t be your hand at my cunt. My body stiffens, unsure. “Don’t worry, darling, slut,” you tell me. “Take it,” you tell me. And then the hand at my cunt begins to push the dildo deep inside of me. Other hands pinch my nipples. Finally, one finger begins to surround my clit with lazy circles that get faster and faster.

My body bucks and writhes. “Come for me. Come for me NOW” you command. And I do. I feel your cock contract, taste your semen in my mouth, and for a blissful few moments I float in a sea of pure sensation, unable to think, able only to feel pleasure like waves, coursing through my body over and over. Through the haze I notice you removing your cock from my mouth, and then I feel the dildo and the butt plug leave my body as well. My legs are unclipped from the spreader bar, and then suddenly you gather me up, wrapping me in your arms, still there on the table. You take my blindfold off, and when I look at you, I begin to cry, great racking sobs pouring out all the intensity of my love for you, my need to please you, my need to be your slut always and forever.

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Fantasy: "Tell me about a particularly slutty thing you imagine yourself doing. I want details."

April 18, 2007

We go out to club while we’re in San Francisco. I’m wearing a short black skirt with thigh high seamed stockings, a white low cut blouse, and the 4-inch patent stiletto pumps. You ask me to dance for you, and I do, as sexily as I can manage. Afterwards, we go back into a dark corner of the club so I can catch my breath and get a drink. When the waiter comes by, I order a soda, forgetting that tonight you had instructed me that I was not to order myself, that you would be making those choices for me. I realize my error immediately, even before you give me “the look.” After the waiter comes back with your drinks, you tell me that as my punishment, I must suck your cock, right there, under the table. The corner of the club is dark, and fairly secluded. I slip down under the table, undo your pants, and take your cock into my mouth. I suck it and lick it and tug at its base. I fight my gag reflex and take you as far down my throat as I can manage. Your hands are under the table, pulling my hair, and guiding my rhythm. You come in my mouth, and I swallow it eagerly. You indicate that I can get up now, so I do. My cunt is swollen and dripping wet, but I know that it will be hours until you let me have my release. I sit back down in my chair and look around – luckily no seems to have noticed. A little while later a waiter comes over to see if we want another drink, and my face flushes, imagining what he would have thought of me – what a slut I am – if he’d been there only a few minutes earlier.