It was a cross, on top of a hill, crying out to be occupied. I couldn’t actually fasten Mat to it and leave him to enjoy the view from a lonely vantage point, but I put him where he belonged as best I could.
After an evening of play which had aroused us both Mat and I headed off into the night. For once the party had ended before midnight and we weren’t ready to go home so early.
We saw a cinema and decided on impulse to see if there was a film showing. To our surprise there were several starting after midnight so we bought tickets and went in.
We had the cinema to ourselves so we kicked off our shoes and made ourselves comfortable. As I settled back Mat’s hand slipped between my thighs and I parted them to give him better access.
After a few minutes we were joined in the cinema by two more couples but they spaced themselves out around the cinema leaving us alone in the back row. Under the cover of darkness I slipped my knickers off. Mat’s fingers continued to tease me throughout the film.
When the film ended I stood up and put on my coat. We were alone again and Mat slipped his fingers inside me. Within a second his hand was soaked as I squirted down his arm. Our eyes met, we needed to do this somewhere else.
We drove away until we found a quiet car park. Set back from the road we had a little privacy.
Mat stripped naked, he was going to get wet. He helped me up onto the car bonnet and I lay back and spread my legs as his fingers went to work inside me. As I flooded him, squirting over him, warming his cock with my juices, he scooped up some of the liquid and splashed it on his body and his face.
He made me squirt until I was starting to get sore, so I climbed down and claimed use of his cock. Clinging to the bonnet for warmth, he filled me and I moaned with pleasure.
Then it was my turn. I donned my strap-on and bent him over the bonnet. Raping him over his own car. He wanked himself until he came and I caught his spunk in my hand, smearing it over his face, feeding it to him. My cock still inside him, I fucked him some more, until he whimpered, like the submissive slut he was.
Then finally we were ready to go home.
There’s a little patch of woodland not too far away that we recently discovered. It’s a beautiful little place and although sometimes occupied by dog walkers or playing children during the day is often empty.
I met my boy there late one night. He knew I intended mischief although perhaps not what mischief. We set off into the woods. We had brought a light and it lit our way until I found a tree that met my needs.
I hung the light nearby casting a little pool of light into the forest around us. With my boy already topless I tied his hands with some rope and pulled them up so he stood against the tree. It was the work of seconds to pull down his trousers and strip him naked. I raised my whip and began to beat him.
We were alone in our pool of light and our moment. When I had left sufficient marks I paused to tell him he was my Good Boy, to stroke his warm bottom. He responded by wriggling it, sticking it out invitingly, and I wanted to accept that invitation. I grabbed my strap-on and buckled it on, lubed up and pushed my cock into him. His hands still tied, he had no choice as I raped him in the darkness of the woods.
Nobody came that way, nobody saw us; but if they had, I wonder if they would have stood and watched what we did that night. Because who knows what you will find if you go down to the woods.
A sequel to: Earning His Domme’s Approval
He was unsurprised when his Domme turned up at his door without warning. He didn’t hesitate to get in the car with her. He listened to the CD she played with a growing sense of familiarity. He expected the turn that took them out of town and into the countryside.
She would be taking him to a secluded car park where he would be expected to strip, be blindfolded, put on his knees and made to suck cock. He was becoming accustomed to servicing men he neither saw nor spoke to. He was his Domme’s whore, a fact reinforced by the money these anonymous men inevitably pressed into his hand. His services, his mouth, bought and paid for. Continue reading “Earning So Much More”
The weekend was wonderful but frustrating. We were staying with family so that we could all have a day out together. A day by the sea, a day visiting a historic ship.
But when your family doesn’t know that you’re poly (much less about kink) you have to be on your best ‘public’ behaviour all the time. The frustration was made no better by actually being in public.
I would have had my boy kneel at my feet, so I could stroke his hair and hold him. Instead we acknowledged the desire standing as close together as we dared while we had a moment alone.
When we walked onto the deck of the ship together we looked at the expanse of deck in the sunshine. We gazed up at the masts towering above us. We cast envious eyes on the rope, everywhere (everywhere!) about the ship. If I could, I would have had my boy naked in moments, tied him tight to the rigging and flogged him right there on the deck with whatever piece of rope came to hand. Instead I grabbed my camera and took a photo that says something of where our hearts were, of where we wanted to be, of the fantasy that lives inside every waking moment.
I will say that when we finally got home we turned that frustration and fantasy into something real and special but that is another story entirely.
His Domme arrives at his flat one evening. She stands on the doorstep without attempting to enter. She grabs the hair at the back of his head and gazes at him intently.
“You are mine, my submissive slut and my whore”, it is not a question.
“Yes, Mistress”, admission comes readily to his lips.
“Get in the car”, she tells him briefly.
A quick look at her and his words of protest die on his lips, she means business tonight. He grabs no more than a door key and follows her out to her car. As he climbs into the passenger seat he asks where they are going. Continue reading “Earning His Domme’s Approval”
This weekend was a weekend to conjure with. Spent largely in mediaeval England in the woods it was filled with moments of pure fantasy.
Hearing historical tales of crime and punishment and imagining tying my boy to a cart and flogging him round the site (we had cart, rope and flogger so it would have been quite feasible).
Seeing the stocks and wanting to fasten him in there, bent over and naked, as the village whore so that anyone might use him.
Looking at the moon, full and high over the field, and wishing to see him nude and glorious under it.
Watching my boy pull down an errant branch (we needed to drive under the tree) and wanting to take it and whip him with it.
Oh yes, the woods were full of fantasy this weekend. The reality was a little tamer but there were moments of real delight.
Buying rope together, looking, handling it and not entirely admitting what we wanted it for.
In a flowing dress of velvet and satin, having my peasant boy kneel at my feet in the busy tavern for a photo that means more than the drinkers around us may have guessed.
A quiet moment in our tent (it had to be) where I held the lead around his neck and fucked him with my strap-on and then watched him cum in my hand as I told him he was my bitch.
Yes, the woods were full of magic this weekend.