Keeping My Boy In The Dark

Mat is mine; my boy, my bitch and I am training him to be my whore. His body is mine to use how I please and I may use him to give pleasure to others if I wish. I wanted to see him do just that.

We got into the car and I told Mat to drive to the railway station. He looked uncertain. “There are lots of places you can go on the train”. I nodded. He didn’t need to know where we were going.

On the train his discomfort increased. He had no idea where we were going or what might be expected of him. He fidgeted nervously but assured me that he would be my good boy. I knew he would.

Our destination wasn’t far from the station, a small hotel where we walked straight in. I headed for the lift. I had been texted directions and I knew where we were going. In the hallway I paused and produced a blindfold. I fastened it over Mat’s eyes; this was after all to be a surprise for him. I knocked on the hotel room door.

A beautiful lady answered it and ushered us both in. I guided Mat into the room. It was dimly lit and a naked man similarly blindfolded lay on the bed. I grinned and helped Mat strip down to his frilly panties, laying his clothes neatly to one side.

I guided him up onto the bed and then the woman guided his mouth towards her partner’s cock. My boy began his work without hesitation. I sat back and watched the two blindfolded men, one pleasuring the other. The lady and I grinned at one another, this was hot to watch. In the dim light, we bent our heads to the boys and whispered encouragement at them. Mat was working hard, his hands and his mouth used to good effect. The woman removed the blindfold from her partner and he looked down to watch my boy sucking his cock before throwing his head back again in pleasure. As he grew closer to the edge I told my boy to take him all the way, I wanted to see spunk in his mouth. I heard the man asking his lover if she wanted him to cum and so she did. Urged thus my boy took him all the way and sat up at last rolling spunk on his tongue for me to see until I told him to swallow it down.

I asked the woman if she required any more services from my boy and she requested that he eat her too, so I guided him forward again until he could bury his face between her thighs. He lapped eagerly at her and she responded with pleasure. Held and kissed by her lover and I, a very sexy lady having a very sexy time. My boy in darkness, blindly using his mouth and hands guided only by her cries of delight.

I found myself sitting on the edge of the bed; watching, taking it all in. I was thrilled to see my boy giving pleasure, trusting in me to direct him and protect him. What I was seeing was hot and sexy and Mat was doing it for me. I realised I was smiling only because my cheeks actually hurt from doing so.
I smiled again when I thought how unsympathetic Mat would be of such discomfort.

My boy came to lick me also, letting me join in with the pleasure of the moment. For a while I was the centre of attention and loving it. Still we were not yet finished. My boy was hungry for more and went back to both the man and the woman to use his mouth yet again to give them pleasure before we were done.

Finally I helped him dress, still blindfolded and led him out into the corridor, leaving our hosts to enjoy the rest of their evening. I took my boy away, so proud and happy and full of smiles.

I hope I can make Mat do that again one day.
Anyone want a blow job?

I’m Having Fun

When Mat and I go out to a play party, our emphasis is on the play, the freedom to express our relationship in ways we cannot day to day.
Sometimes that play involves tieing my boy and hurting him or writing on him with sharpies but sometimes it involves nothing more than having him at my feet and petting him or leaving him locked in a cage while I eat chocolate biscuits.

We were out playing recently and at the end of the evening one of the hosts commented to me “You looked like you were having fun”. I was startled by the comment because it was the second time recently that such a comment had been made to me and it made me wonder what prompted it.

You see, I don’t know what we look like when we play and really I don’t want to. I suspect if I ever watched myself I’d be so embarrassed I’d never be able to pick up a flogger again. In general I don’t even want to be aware of the people watching us. No, I know the first rule of performing is not to meet the audience’s eyes, I don’t need feedback to put me off.

I also don’t know if we play differently from anyone else. I know I aim for enthusiasm. Although my boy assures me at the start of each event that I should do only what I want to, that he would be happy sitting at my feet with his head in my lap all evening if that’s what I wished; I know he is silently (and sometimes not so silently) grading my performance with particular emphasis on using the kit available.

For me what determines how I play is how comfortable I am. In a new venue being shown around helps enormously. I like to know where I am and what is expected and allowed. Arriving early is good too. I like to find a quiet area to warm up gently without too much of an audience, particularly if I’m experimenting with an unfamiliar piece of furniture.

The rest depends on my boy, the more submissive he is the happier I am. Oh I can cope if he’s in an irreverent, humorous mood and I can laugh my way through a flogging with him. But when he’s quiet, submissive and respectful I can let myself go, experiment, play; I can fly.

Then time rushes by and all too soon we realise people are packing up around us and it is time to leave and I smile a floating, happy smile and nod gently when people say I had fun.

Turning Into A Sadist

I don’t usually think of myself as sadistic. I’m perfectly happy whipping my boy gently, even leaving some light marks but I rarely want to cause pain.

Sometimes, I even find myself on the edge of tears as I whip him, overwhelmed by the love he gives me as he allows me to hurt him. I know then that I need that love, need to accept it, to give him the chance to give it and yet I don’t want to hurt him. In response to that love I want to hold him, to wrap him up safely and warm but this love is expressed through pain so I continue, loved and loving, despite the contradiction.

Then I took Mat out to play one night, and was introduced to the ‘spit roast’. A long thin bench to which a submissive can be strapped and which can be rotated at a variety of speeds.

Initially I fastened Mat to it with the leather straps provided but although they held him firmly he was in some discomfort as he turned, I noted the need for extra fastenings and let him go.

A little later in the evening though and I couldn’t resist trying again. Mat was blindfolded and I helped him onto the bench, smiling as I watched him realise where he was. I strapped him on and then used two lengths of rope to wrap around him spreading the load.

This time he was clearly more comfortable as I rotated him through 360 degrees. I decided to make it a little more interesting. I took the clover clamps and fastened them to Mat’s nipples. He winced as they closed on his flesh. Slowly I restarted the machine. I watched as Mat’s body stared to tip. He groaned as he realised what would happen next. As he turned, his body hung sideways and the clamps swung free and then gravity pulled them down. He yelped in pain as the weight of the clamps and the chain tugged at him.
He continued to turn until his body moved under the clips and he sighed with relief as the pressure eased and as he approached a horizontal position once again.
He breathed out his tension and the table turned until he reached the apex of his rotation…and continued to turn.
“Oh no”, he whimpered, “not again”.
I watched as the clamps swung down again and Mat groaned in pain.

As I stood watching, bent slightly over the controls, I was aware suddenly of how turned on I was, how close to cumming. I wanted then to leave Mat bound, spinning slowly, where he was; to prolong this torture indefinitely.

I have never felt like a sadist before but this time I really did. I fed on his anticipation, his fear and his pain; I loved it, needed it, wanted to make it last.

He wondered aloud what it would be like to have his cock sucked. I crouched down, taking him in my mouth as he passed through the upward part of his circle. I wanted him to enjoy it, wanted to increase his tolerance, because I wasn’t ready to stop.

In the end though I did have mercy on him. I needed to end it gently, before he had taken too much. I wanted him to be a willing victim the next time I felt like strapping him to that contraption. I wanted to be sure he would lie down willingly for me again.
I want to torture him again.

HNT – Rope Straitjacket

Rope StraitjacketMat is very lucky to have a latex straitjacket but it is very heavy and bulky to transport and very warm to wear. This means that is not ideal for Summer play and even in the Winter is best worn at the end of an evening so as not to leave him hot and bothered in the wrong way. So when planning to take him out for a recent play session I decided against using it. Still I wondered, could one make a lighter version out of rope? Apparently yes, I could.
Thanks to Raven Imaging for the photographs.

Happy HNT!

Keep Quiet And Get Fucked

Keep QuietWe were staying away from home for the weekend. I stood watching him in the morning light. Mat was fast asleep, lying on his side, his legs drawn up slightly, under the duvet.

I retrieved the strap-on from the suitcase and buckled it on. I brought the lube with me as I moved over to the bed. I slipped my hand under the quilt and stroked Mat’s bottom gently. He stirred slightly. I took some lube and applied it to his boy-cunt. He moaned happily and shifted onto his front without being asked.

I climbed over him and slid my big blue cock into him gently. He pushed back towards it, murmuring softly in delight.

Once settled comfortably inside him, my body resting over his. I began to pound into him in earnest. My feet pressing against the foot of the bed for leverage, I could move freely and swiftly.

He began to whimper with each stroke, his face pressed into the pillows, trying unsuccessfully to smother the noise. I slid my hands over his mouth, my head close to his ear.
“Keep quiet and get fucked”, I hissed urgently.
I held him there as my hips moved rapidly, driving my cock into him repeatedly until I released his mouth to let him breathe.

I held him and I fucked him until I came to rest, my body lying on his, my cock buried inside him.
It was the perfect way to start the day.

A Memorable Date

I took my boy away, to a hotel, where we could express our love as we pleased, as we needed to, where we could be ourselves.
I needed to hurt him, to keep hurting him and that is what I did; this poem tells you just how much.

Whipped

Sonnet V – A Memorable Date

Tenderly I at first caress your skin,
You stand, my naked boy, for me to touch.
Then take I up my whips, my cane so thin,
This is love’s kiss; let it be not too much.
Sixty seconds doth each long minute make
But measure we alone in counted blows.
Each stroke requested and with love you take,
Given with pride, we do not care who knows.
Six of the best could never be enough
To show each other just how much we care,
Each stripe upon your skin is not too tough,
When knowing  who it was who placed them there.
And all that love poured out ‘twixt us in pain
Bonds us as owned and owner yet again.

© Caitlin 2013

Days And Nights

Do Not DisturbMat and I were going to a kink night. It was some distance away and we had booked a hotel, both as somewhere to get ready and as somewhere to crash afterwards. While driving to our hotel we discovered the party in question had been cancelled; we decided to carry on and enjoy the weekend anyway.

I’ve said before that hotels make things special, far away from the normal world. This weekend proved that to be true again.

We had a wonderful weekend. During the days we pottered about in the car. We paddled our feet in the river, we went shopping, we sat in a shady graveyard and ate pies, we drank every sort of iced coffee we could find, we walked, laughed, held hands and behaved like any loving couple might.

When in the hotel everything was different. My boy was naked. He was my puppy, my fucktoy, my whipping boy and my footstool. I took naked photos of him cavorting like a whore in the hotel window and walked him about in the dark by his cock. We shared dirty fantasies and sexy moments, he came for me and I smeared his spunk on his face.

Do these days and nights seem mismatched? Not to me, for they were wonderful and precious and all ‘us’. Days and nights to be treasured.