Suzanne SxySadist’s Personal Blog

Whew! I go to some pretty wild, wonderful & weird events through out the year but I can say for a fact that there is NOTHING that even remotely resembles camp! I think I have attended seven out of eleven Leather Retreat camps and can honestly say that just when I think I have seen or heard it all, someone at camp surprises me with something totally new.

Camp is pretty much an anything goes environment and as I explained in my earlier post, there are a bare minimum of rules so pretty much all is fair and game between consenting adults. I have seen and participated in some pretty bizarre stuff by many people’s standards: slave auctions, human pony shows, staged kidnappings with “forced gang bangs”, interrogation scenes that leave the captive whipped bloody, mock crucifixions and so much more that it can boggle the mind.  Last year I was impressed by hearing that they were pouring entire bottles of rubbing alcohol over folks, lighting them on fire and then pushing them in the pool! Like wow! That’s pretty hot stuff!  

But this year’s “cake” undoubtedly has to go to Femcar who cheerfully explained to me that the sutures holding together a five inch gash in her hip were a result of her playmate dubbed “Hannibal the Cannibal” having surgically removed a chunk of her flesh and cooking it like a delicacy then serving it to them both with a nice glass of wine just as his namesake had done in “Silence of the Lambs”.

Gulp, ummm yeah, that definitely wins the prize for most intense and unusual kink scene I have ever heard of at camp to date. I recall doing my best to not let my jaw drop to the floor of the pavilion and appear utterly shocked or appalled as she explained this all to me with a gleam in her eye. I was actually fascinated to be honest in a morbid sort of way and even though I don’t see myself negotiating a flesh eating scene anytime soon I cannot honestly say that it doesn’t turn me on just a little bit to think about devouring just a little bit of a loved one’s flesh. 

I mean think about it for a second; what an intensely intimate offering that would be, to offer your very flesh to your Mistress (or Master) not just to torment and tease but to actually devour, to literally consume and make you a part of her. If you were truly devoted to someone heart and soul, wouldn’t it be just a teeny bit sexy to know that a part of you was being broken down and used to nourish every cell in their body? And that you would bear a permanent mark to show that you belonged to her.  Yes, I admit it, I do find the thought arousing on some deeply twisted level. But that probably has to do a little bit with Master R of La Domaine Esemar planting a seed when we first met by having me read a story called “Master Biting” that he wrote that scared the hell out of me while totally making me wet. 

It seems that with somethings that are on the outer fringes of kinkdom, I am can be quite taken back the first time I hear it .. and then if I hear someone else doing it, perhaps a sightly different way it sort of helps to validate the notion and allows me to look at it again in a different light or from a new angle.  Perhaps the first hearing of it plants the seed but often that seed doesn’t really take root until I have seen other examples of what that can look like fully “fleshed out” as it were.

I distinctly remember being quite shocked the first time I was introduced to the Dolcett girls gynophagia section (although some of the asphyxiation drawings still make pretty interesting “wank material” for me).  The general theme is of absolutely beautiful women not just willingly but enthusiastically participating in their own impalement on a spit and being roasted alive so that their daddy or husband or even neighbors can enjoy the feast.

Yeah, OK .. sick, twisted, perversion of a truly insane variety and the first time I saw those drawings I felt a little ill.  But I do adore breath play which is Dolcett’sother major theme so the lure of that particular brand of porn brought me back to the site again and again until I did on occasion find myself perusing the spitted, roasted pen & ink gals who were willingly, almost gleefully offering everything they had, including their very flesh to please the ones they serve.  

At some point I also discovered Muki’s Kitchen where they stage beautiful photo shoots depicting all sorts of tasteful cannibalistic fun & games with some of the most well known bondage models in the industry! They actually have an extensive and impressive number of free photos but ask that you not post them anywhere else so please do feel free to click and peek at who’s cooking in Muki’s Kitchen. ;) One of my favorites is posted here with permission!

Anyway, so I started to realize that there seemed to be more people that shared or at least toyed with this fantasy than I had realized, and yeah I know it is seriously twisted and like I said, I have no plans to chomp an actual bite out of anyone anytime soon but I absolutely have found more than just the slightest glimmer of sexy in the fantasy of it and wanted to share.  So on that note I will leave you to your Independence Day celebrations … enjoy your barbecues!

This is a rather long post that I originally made on the Adult Rope Art Yahoo List. Jan 16 2008 and that I am reposting here.

As is too often the case, my schedule and energetic resources have only occasionally afforded me the time to follow the latest discussions here, and as is also often the case, I have simply lurked and taken in the best gist of the conversation that my little, less intellectual rope loving brain can manage to follow. Rarely do I post here since rarer still do feel I can add anything of great substance to the discussions but this time for what it’s worth, (which is far less than 2 cents I am sure once adjusted for inflation of ego or what not) I think I would like to add my probably too long winded thoughts.

There is a part of me that absolutely understands the western desire to dissect to death and then label things neatly so as to have concrete identifiable standards for what something is and is not, but during this latest discussion on what makes something Shibari, there has also been a part of me screaming “what difference does it really make”??!!

Honestly, with all due respect and no judgments attached, most of the time I think you “guys” focus way too much on labels and manage to suck the life and juice, fun, joy and just plain ol’ sexiness out of it all. As my dear friend Mac can attest, since we have chatted about topics such as this on occasion, I feel many times that these discussions get decidedly yang heavy and get stuck on the technical aspects of style over function, weights and measures, mats vs no mats, titles, protocols and standards, etc ad nauseum and while what is really and truly hot, sexy and wonderful about this medium is being lost in the mix. For me many of the things that most draw me to rope bondage defy all of those things and live more in the realm of the yin: art, eroticism, mystery, emotion & feeling.

The image posted was absolutely amazing! (Image to the right: rigged by JD of the Two Knotty Boys and photgraphed by Z. Matiri)

No question about it: perfectly executed & beautiful rope work, fabulous knotting, wonderful lighting & color, stunning model, great composition all done by a very handsome rope artist to boot!

What is not to like? And I do understand that he posed the question as to whether or not it was Shibari, for whatever reason, so naturally the responses elicited were all appropriate to that question but with all due resect, because I admire the TKB’s tremendously, I personally find the question to be mostly irrelevant to my enjoyment of the photo.

When I look at a bondage image, I generally am not concerned with what style of tie it is or whether the ropes exactly match some criteria by which we can determine whether the artist, rigger, rope top, nawashi (insert you personal preference here) has been properly trained in the traditional style of rope dating back X many centuries, and whether he / she is western or eastern influenced, or chooses to wear a kimono and tie barefoot even though he not asian (etc etc etc).

When I see an image of a tie what I am more interested in is what feelings does it illicit in me, what can I determine about what brought everyone involved to that particular moment in time and perhaps what is the photographer trying to convey.

On a personal level I sometimes explore things like: does it turn me on as a rigger and make me want to learn that tie? Does it make me envious or jealous because I feel I am not as skilled or curious to see if I can determine where the main support ropes (in suspension of course) are so I can better understand the rigging and perhaps use pieces of it myself in the future.

Since I am a switch that loves to be in rope myself and do not spend near enough time there for my liking (yes that was a self serving passive aggressive hint to a few friends), I wonder does the image turn me on as a bottom? I will often try to read what feeling or sensation is being created in or experienced by the bottom in an image. What is the energetic level, flavor or temperature of the image? Is she or he struggling with shame or vulnerability? Are they in extreme discomfort and trying to endure for her own sake, for the top’s sake for the sake of the shoot? Was she staring at the ceiling during the tedious and methodical application of the rope and now that the rope is done is she trying to “act” or convey something she isn’t really feeling for the sake of the image or is she really truly and fully in this experience? Is that experience mainly based on the rope itself or is the bondage just a vehicle to explore the energy and dynamic that exists between the players?

What can I determine about the intention of the rigger? Was this image taken purely as a testament to his/ her skill for vanity or ego’s sake? Was the intention to create art to inspire others or to teach and share knowledge? Or perhaps was this image snapped as a remembrance of a special moment, eperience or time lovingly spent with this person in rope. And occasionally I see an image that will stop me in my tracks and make me wonder if I could ever entice that rigger to lay rope on my flesh.

There is a particular photo by photographer Michelle Serchuk that has graced my desk top off and on for 2 years that comes to mind.  Although I am opting not to post it here parts of it can be seen on two other blogs that I know of: Mac’s with the caption “Puzzel Piece” and Besu’s with the caption “Hnging on”. It is a black & white photo, a beautiful woman in inverted suspension, gorgeous lines of her body leading the eye downward, a rope circles her throat and pivots under a railing back up to the hand that holds it, tugging it upward toward him. The top’s back is to the camera and his handsome face is only slightly profiled but everything about the image conveys his exquisite presence, his rapt concentration and shows that his focus is entirely on her in that moment.

Without seeing his face or eyes I could see everything I needed to know to tell me that I wanted to be in her place. That place of rapture and surrender, offering absolutely everything to someone truly worthy of it receiving it. That image alone was enough to tell me this was someone I desired to play with and serve to the best of my ability even if it is only on occasion. And yes, our experiences together since have been every bit as exciting and challenging and juicy and hot and every other sexy good thing I had imagined they would be. And the catalyst for it all was that one image and a few emails.

Anyway, and more to the point, to my mind these are the far more interesting and exciting places to focus my attention than whether or not a particular tie is or is not Shibari.

Much love to all my ropey friends..

Suze aka Suzanne SxySadist
www.shibarilover.com

I asked my sexy switch boyfriend for a few of his thoughts on what would really turn him on about playing the role of alpha slave in a cuckold scenario and I was a bit surprised at how mean he could be.  I actually thought that he might have a bit more sympathy for that poor “low slave on totem pole” but his cruelly sadistic teases are going a long way toward reminding me why he will always keep a high place in the male slave “pecking order”.  Here are a few choice tidbits well worth sharing:

We could park him bound in the corner, but with one hand free and stern instructions to silently keep his dick hard, but seriously warn him not to cum or suffer dire consequences, while you and I make out on the bed just a few feet away.

I would pleasure you over and over through your sexy thong panties with lots of finger play and maybe the small buzzy toy which should help get those panties nice and soaking wet. Then I could strip them off of you and stuff them in his mouth, mocking him and letting him know that “That’s as close as you’re gonna get to any pussy, wimp”.

Then I would of course lick and kiss and worship your delicious cunt until you order me to fuck you a good long time.  Once you have had several juicy, noisy orgasms, you can have us get into a sixty-nine position so that you can watch us suck each other’s cocks for your amusement while you continue to pleasure yourself.  We are both slaves after all, alpha or not, but naturally it would be with the understanding that the first one to cum gets severely punished. (Hence the reason I want him stroking the whole time before hand!)

If it pleases you Mistress, you could stride around watching us from different angles, maybe stroking or striking some exposed flesh with a cane or crop musing, “I wonder who it’s gonna be…”   If I am fortunate enough to get him to shoot first, I’ll spit his cum out on your belly or your feet and you can have him lick it clean while I ass fuck the hell out of him to completion.  Or if he does S/m, his consequence could be that you will whip him well while (until!) he finishes me off!! Course, after he cums he might not be joyously up for such things… you know how us men are… but then again, that’s what the bondage is for isn’t it?  On the off chance he gets me off first, hmmm. Well, I guess you can announce “Mistress’s prerogative” and say you intend to “reward him” by strap-on ass fucking him while he rims me.

Yes, that sweet formerly submissive man of mine is definitely growing some top “horns” as I encourage his switch-dom.  I am actually beginning to think that I may have created a bit of a monster. <grin> Here is a snippet of an email he sent to me the other day that sort of got me going a bit as well. I added a comment or two of my own in {brackets} this time.

 Thinking about gorgeous you and next weekend and rope sex!   My goal is to get you as horny as I am right now.  {I think it worked!}

Imagine yourself bound and me teasing the hell out of you all evening.  Bent over the end of the massage table, thighs and ankles tied spread open to the table legs, hands above your head and bound to the opposite legs… or your wrists lashed to your bed’s headboard, ankles tied to thighs leaving you spread and available… the bondage swing upstairs… straddling me, arms bound in a shinju and hanging by a scarf about your throat… or all of the above… and all the time, my fingers, my hot, wet tongue, buzzy toys, and even that big red cock extension find their way into your cunt and ass… ever so close to cumming but not permitted too.  Then over my knee for a spanking, tied face down to the bench in the temple and slowly and deliciously caned… thanking me as I feed my cock into your eager mouth, then return to your caning again and again! Eventually I’ll lead you off to bed, arms bound and leashed and let you satisfy yourself completely on my cock. Eventually. 

I’ve also been fantasizing about “mutual masturbation” scenes lately.  In it I am bound kneeling, ankles tied to thighs,  one hand pulled behind my back in a hojojutsu tie and a rope around my neck, bound to a post or tied up in a “half hanging” position.  I am encouraged to jerk-off with my one free hand, with a stern admonition not to cum or suffer the consequences. {This actually sounds a bit familiar & definitely do-able!} 

You teasingly strip in front of me, pressing your cunt, feet and ass to my mouth and lips, and then you settle down into some nice comfy pillows to get yourself off while I watch and keep myself hard and on the edge.  You verbally remind me that you are free to have all the orgasms you want, while I am not.  You frequently use my eager mouth to clean your wetness, your fingers and toys between orgasms, letting me get to the point of total frustration, then allowing me to beg to cum.  

Tying my free hand off and gagging me, you begin a flogging, whipping, and caning session, each time allowing me to go soft and then pausing to permit me to stroke again, or sucking and stroking me yourself until I am hard, and then resuming your wicked play.  Finally, you take advantage of my going soft one more time to lock the spiked cage on my cock, binding just my hands behind me and leading me off to bed by a leash to pleasure you one final time before tying the cage off tightly to my wrists and curling up next to me for a good long night’s sleep!  At some point the next day, you relent and allow me to empty my load – then clean it up with my tongue and recycle it for next time!  Camp perhaps? {Umm no baby,  sooner I think..  see you Thursday!}  ;) 

(based on very much on my true life experiences with Master R of La Domaine Esemar)

Let’s get one thing clear right now… I absolutely love the way his cock looks straining against the leather of those fucking pants and I want it so bad right now I could cry, maybe even be willing to die! And knowing him, knowing me, I will probably have to prove it to get even a taste of that sweet flesh tonight! And the sick and scary part is; I will gladly do so for him, over and over again!

A part of me has craved belonging to him and pleasuring his cock from the very first moment that he took me by the hand and put me on my knees before him. His voice low but clear and well practiced, like he had done this at least a 1000 times. Even so there was a touch of reverence in his voice during this special ritual, almost like a baptism as he submerges me into slave space and promises with smiled innuendos, more secrets to be revealed. As he spoke he touched me gently here and there, adjusting my body into perfect position. I tried to listen intently and remember every word, but my mind felt far away and a little foggy. (Probably from all the blood in my body rushing straight to my sex!)

“Your slave posture; kneeling, legs apart, always available but never vulgar. Your head held high, you are proud to be a La Domaine slave but your eyes are kept down to show that you are humbled by the experience. Your hands on your thighs, palms up: a sign of offering. And yet. deeper than that, you offer through your craving, in your body, your heart and your soul. To offer IS to crave slave. Do you understand that?”

“I think so Sir” (I didn’t really, not deep in my core where it mattered. But I soon would.

“Do not call me Sir, You may refer to me as Master or simply as R. That is all. Understood?”

I gulped a little I had known this man less than 2 hrs, and here I was on my knees wanting him like a slut in heat. This was happening so fast! How do I know I can trust him, I don’t even know his first name just an initial! Oh my God, what if he is too extreme for me? What if he hurts me? Oh my! What if he doesn’t wouldn’t that be a disappointment! Oh geez I must be crazy! What the hell am I doing here!?

My mind flooded with a stream of fears, random horny thoughts, and practical and not so practical what ifs, but I held my posture and searched for my deepest craving. I knew he would settle for nothing less.

“Yes, Master” It was shaky and a bit awkward but clear. I was on unfamiliar ground, taking hesitant blind steps. I was nervous, and unsure and oh-so-turned-on!

My eyes still lowered, I watched him lean back in the chair and sit that casual sexy way he does. With one leg up on the chair and one off to the side, he was stretching the leather tightly across his crotch and leaning back watching me as I traced his length and girth with my lingering eyes..

Even if I hadn’t seen him looking at me I would have felt him reading my face, breath, and movements on the surface and the energetic cravings pulsing through my veins. His gaze was penetrating and pervasive, his energy probing mine.

His expression blended the wisdom and experience of a seasoned chateau Master sizing up the value and usefulness of a prospective slave, with a dash of the sadistic and calculating hunter or rapist evaluating his prey, his next victim. It was a serious, studied expression mixed with a touch of gleefully cruel smile and more pure deep knowing than I had ever seen before. A look that whispered to me in throaty silence, “I know what you want slut. <chuckle> But, I also know that what you NEED, deep down. Things you may not even be aware of yet, and if you can measure up, I may just enjoy giving it to you, eventually.” However, something told me that this man did not impress easily.

I felt like an open book to him. Like every thought I ever had was spoken out loud to him and he had heard it ALL before. He watched me looking at him. My eyes still fascinated by the way that light, softly gleamed across the stretched black leather flesh, then faded to dark velvety shadows as it played across the contours of his body. It was plain to see that he had been blessed and as I relished the thought of that treasure inside me, I felt a delicious instant rush run through my body like a hot, wet, electric juice. It emanated from my cunt with a pulse and the wave radiated out ward from cell to cell turning my bones to submissive jelly and my insides to compliant molten desire. I swallowed hard, my panties felt wet, he knew just from watching me and he smiled wickedly.

He reached down with one hand and casually stroked the length from base to tip through those incredibly tight pants, his eyes still on me. I swallowed hard again and unconsciously licked my lips. I wasn’t really starting to salivate was I? Ohh but yes indeed I was, just like Pavlov’s dog anticipating the treat that goes with the bell.

I wanted to taste his flesh. I wanted to show this man how much I adore cock worship. And I wanted to believe I could sweetly rock his world with my hands and lips and tongue but when I lifted my eyes just enough to meet his gaze something in his expression told me that I was going to have to work harder for this than anything I have ever worked for before. My wants meant absolutely nothing in his grand scheme of things and I knew I had better get used to being “hungry”.

“Eyes down slave.” I dropped them lustfully back onto his crotch and watched as he very slowly continued to lightly stoke up along the length .. base to tip .. base to tip .. base to tip .. gently so sexy, I could see it starting to grow even fuller, longer, harder. Good God.. I wanted it so bad!

I watched his hands start to work that cock harder right through the supple leather flesh covering it, he squeezed and tugged at it. He adjusted the positioning and now it was running straight up the font of his tight jeans and I swear the tip was practically at the waist band.

I started squirming unconsciously and began leaning closer to him, falling slowly out of posture without really realizing it. He noticed and corrected me instantly with a low but firm voice “Mind your posture slave” I straightened up with a little frustrated whimper and tried to get my breath back to a smooth and steady pace. I needed to focus on something, anything other than the fact that every damn cell in my body wanted to be fucked open by that beautiful cock!

Suddenly he sat up and leaned so that his face was only 6 inches or so from mine. “Kiss me slave, but do not move”. In that instant he quickly pecked a little kiss on my lips and just as quickly pulled back to that 6 inch distance. “Kiss me slave!” Again he swooped in for a peck, I tried to meet him in the kiss but he was too damn fast for me. I stayed on edge, trying to anticipate his next swoop and he started to move, then stopped, chuckling at me as I kissed the air. He was toying with me, like a fisherman letting his catch wear itself out before reeling it in. And I was absolutely hooked.

He alternated randomly between swooping in for his tease kisses and stopping short, taunting me with my clumsy near misses. Demanding that I kiss him, but making it impossible to do so. I always seemed just a fraction of a second off and it was driving me mad. I could see him moving but my reaction time was just too slow to catch his lips in perfect synch with mine.

Finally, I closed my eyes and stopped trying to watch for his movements but instead “feel” for them. With my eyes closed I took a breath and cleared my mind and then felt into the space between us. I quietly dropped into a different place in my body that allowed me to sense his intention to move before he actually did was delighted to find that it worked! He swooped .. I felt the energy between us flow and shift .. and without thinking about it I just kissed,…. And finally met his lips in that first sweet peck.

“Very good slave” I could hear the smile in his voice and it lit me up inside. I took another breath, felt into our mingling energy bodies and as he moved toward me again my body reacted blindly and kissed again and again rapidly .. he tried to trick me with two .. but I felt it coming and responded appropriately

I could feel his surprise even as he casually praised the improvement and part of me was elated and part of me was growling low and deep inside with a hunger that wanted to pounce on him and just take what I needed like an wild animal. But I knew I had better learn to jump through his hoops like a good circus cat if I wanted even a tickle behind the ear.

He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment then popped up and disappeared into the next room only for a moment, returning with a lovely length of soft golden hemp. My whole body sighed in delight at the mere sight of that rope in his hands. I enjoy rope bondage a bit as a top myself and it isn’t easy for me to stay dropped in sub space with a novice top, my gut starts itching to teach and share rope secrets, but just seeing that piece of rope in his hands, I knew he was not a novice. He ran it through his hands and found center, then very quickly and very efficiently tied my wrists behind my back and worked a Japanese box style shinju across my chest, right over my low cut macramé blouse.

He had not removed or opened any of my clothing at all. Not that I would have objected at that point, trust me. Once he had my arms tightly bound behind my back and my breasts perked at attention, he leaned close to me and said he only intended to touch the bits of flesh I offered to him tonight.

He ran his hand gently over my cheek and then down over my vulnerable throat, pausing for a moment to squeeze just slightly at the carotids, his eyes fixed on mine. I gasped and swooned as my insides just melted into a pool again. I have craved having a man’s hand on my throat since the first session I ever had, when my first Dom taught me to fly that way. But, so few people are brave enough to go with that brand of edge play and even fewer of them have the confidence I felt in Master’s skilled fingers. He had done this before and he knew from my reaction that I had too and that I loved it.

He grabbed another smaller length of rope and began to weave a rope posture collar snugly around my throat. It was tight enough that I could feel the rope deliciously embracing my entire neck top to bottom but not so tight that it restricted my breathing at all. As he ran his fingers over the coils of rope on my throat, I could feel the rope vibrating on my skin. The smell and the texture and the feel of those coils of hemp was totally turning me on more and more by the second.

I was drifting out of posture again lost in sensation and desire but he brought me back to center by placing his hand again around my throat and just holding for a moment. I would swear I could feel the heat of his hand through the rope, and as my breath flowed in and out under his touch I dropped my head back offering him my throat and my breath fully, surrendering wide open to him. He began to squeeze again ever so slightly and the compression on the wider bands of rope brought me softly to that familiar edge. I felt warmth spread through my body as my vision started to fade tunnel like, closing into darkness. A moment of panic surged through my body as the self preservation instinct screams at me to fight or pull away, but all it manages to produce is a little rippling spasm running through my chest. I feel like I am free falling backwards into oblivion and although I can sort of feel my body convulsing and twitching I am not comprehending anything at all. There is no time or space.. there is nothing but a giant ocean like wave of sensation closing in on me and tumbling me round in it’s roaring, crashing surf. I do not even have the presence of mind to know which way is up and my only tether to the world .. is his hand on my throat.

Light begins to drift back to my senses slowly, my vision began to unblur and suddenly I am looking into the face of a complete stranger! I had no idea where I was, how I got there or who the hell this man was but in that moment he looked a lot like God to me. His hand was still gently wrapped around my throat, my arms and breasts were still tied, my chest heaved with in the ropes and as I realized that my nipples were screaming hard I suddenly knew that right now the only thing in the world I really wanted was to worship his fucking cock!!

I started begging incoherently, a long string of senseless, breathless pleading; “Master Please …. Please… Master, may I suck you Master .. please I need you Master .. I need to worship your cock … Master PLEASE!!”

“Crave deeper slave, don’t beg from your brain .. beg from your pussy.”

I felt like a damn burst inside me and I started sobbing with the most intense need I could remember and the words dropped away but the craving was clear. He stood in front of my .. the tightly stretched leather of his jeans less than and inch from my lips but I knew not to dare take liberty. Tears streamed down my cheek and he turned my face gently and pressed himself to the side of my face. I swear I nearly came.

The leather drank my tears as the heat of his cock penetrated into my cheek, I felt his pulse on the side of my face and sighed. Even that touch was enough to make me happy in that moment.

He lingered there for a moment then pulled back away .. my eyes followed him, still down cast in good slave posture, my head high my arms probably numb at this point I can’t really recall and it didn’t matter one bit. My focus was entirely on his cock.

“Kiss slave”

I gave a hesitant peck on the leather, similar to the “kissing game” pecks we had exchanged earlier. He rocked forward, I kissed again and again.

“That’s it slave, kiss each one hotter than before” I started planting a string of kisses on the shaft and as I went I focused my intention and my pure lust filled craving narrower and narrower, concentrating it to pure need on the tips of my moist lips. My lips started to linger, wanting to lick, and suck and taste god damn it!

He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head sharply back. “Kissing is NOT licking slave, don’t get greedy! Now kiss!”

He released my hair and my lips sprang back to kissing lightly up and down the front of his pants, tracing the contours of his cock. I wanted so badly to please him but I felt like he wanted me dancing right on that insanity fueled edge of frustration, shame and lust. I want to scream, “What the fuck is wrong with you damn it .. just let me suck your cock already!” But I bite my tongue and keep kissing.

He takes a step away from me and I almost fall forward on my knees. He takes yet another piece of rope and ties one end to the coils around my throat and the other end to an eye bolt in the ceiling. I test my new leash and discover I can lean slightly forward but the more I do the more pressure I feel on my throat. He stands before me again and very very slowly begins to undo the button on those damn pants. I swallow hard and lick my lips again, anticipating, praying, craving. I can see the delicate underside frenum area peek out at me and he leans forward just enough that I can sneak a peck kiss and then pulls back again just out of reach.

“Kiss slave”

I lean up and forward a bit more and can barely touch my lips to his leather again.. I absolutely can’t reach the tip. But, I start to press more and the rope tightens… everything begins to gray just a little and I start to swoon back. I can’t reach him god dammit! I try again, he rocks toward me just a ½ inch, enough to let me run kisses up his length with renewed desire and then as I stretch and reach and try to run my tongue just under the tip of his cock he slaps my face and reminds me not to be greedy!

The hot sting on my cheek only turns me on even more as I lustfully whisper “Yes Master”. I don’t dare displease him now for fear that he will simply stop and leave me like this! He steps back and begins to very slowly pull the zipper down .. one tooth at a time. I catch my breath as he begins to finally reveal himself to me. His long hard flesh glows beautifully in the soft light and the texture looks like silken sugar that would melt on my tongue. Even if my “posture” did not instruct “eyes down”, I know that I wouldn’t be able to take my eyes off of this part of him. Now fully out from the leather confines, he took it into his right hand and began to stroke it every so slowly and lovingly toward my lips, still just out of reach.

Unconsciously I began to press forward toward him, I just needed to be a little closer, just a little more, just a little… my eyes begin to blur and I rock backward yet again and this time need a few more seconds to recover. My head is swimming and body is charged with incredible sexual energy and I just don’t understand why this bastard won’t just let me suck his damn cock!

He could sense that burst of aggression flaring in me and as if to egg me on he started beckoning me with the tip, calling to me with it, teasing me and verbally taunting me all the while; “Come on slavie, show me how much you want it. Crave deeply.”

I started growling and grunting and struggling forward against the rope and he finally slid it close enough for me to begin to taste his flesh fully on my lips. I close my eyes and truly savor the feel of my lips pressed against the underside of his cock in a deep adoringly meditative kiss. His cock felt hot against my lips, the smell of sweat and leather filled my nose as I just rested there for a moment, my throat pressed against the ropes and my lips pressed against that sweet spot on the underside of his glorious cock and I was happy.

“Lick slave”

“Yes!” I cry out in energetic but silent joy, and immediately I start my tongue at the base of his cock and meander slowly all the way up the length, stopping just short of a glistening drop of pre cum forming at the tip. I stretch my tongue out teasingly and touch the tip of it right to that little drop and pull away slowly … letting the pre cum stretch like a web between us .. light glistens in it that clear thin strand … stretching slowly .. it breaks and I go back for more.

(To be continued)