Raped, Whipped and Drowned

Mat and I went away for the weekend. Our first ever trip away together; it was memorable for many reasons but certainly having the time and space to play was certainly one of them.

We drove through the night until shortly before dawn we stopped, exhausted and decided to check into a hotel. Once in our room the tiredness was temporarily forgotten as my boy pushed his boy-cunt up at me invitingly and I was glad to claim it.

I fucked him hard until he whimpered but it was not enough for either of us. I lay back on the bed still wearing my strap-on and watched as he fucked himself on it, his hand wanking his cock, his body arched back in pleasure until he came, shaking and moaning rapturously. I took him again in the morning, twice more and left him sore before we hit the road again.

Once in a hotel at our destination we spent some time on other diversions. The paddle, the crop and the flogger all saw service as, with our music playing, I concentrated on hitting him. Spread out on the white sheets his whole body was available to me and I played the flogger over it all. When I came to his feet he lifted them up to me and I cupped my hand underneath them, steadying them as I gently stroked and whipped the soles with my pink flogger. He didn’t flinch or pull away as I held him, my willing and trusting victim.

The most memorable moment of all though was in the swimming pool. Alone together, with no lifeguard, I held him as he floated in the pool. Then holding his nose gently I pushed his head under the water. He lay still, cradled in my arms, unable to breathe until I brought him back to the surface. Several times I did this and his cock grew hard in response. He was utterly mine in that moment, offering his life and breath to me, treasured in return.

Later on we discussed our weekend, so busy and full in many ways.
“I’ve been raped, whipped and drowned” he commented.
Our eyes met, and our thoughts and smiles came together.
“A very good weekend”.

Learning To Squirt

I’ve been meaning to write this for a while so here it is.

I had heard about it of course. But there seemed to be no clear consensus, some people swore it was real others that it wasn’t. There seemed to be no way to unpick the truth.
Then it happened, a lover’s fingers working in my cunt and I heard a squelching sloshing sound that could only have come from me. Clearly I hadn’t wet myself and so I became a believer and joined the ranks of the ‘squirters’.

Still while that’s an interesting party trick it seemed no more than that until Mat and I were making love one day. Suddenly there was a feeling of intense floaty pleasure and a very (very) damp patch on the bed. His cock reaching and touching the perfect spot. It wasn’t an orgasm, that feels very different for me, but it was intensely pleasurable in a way that, so far, fingers cannot quite emulate; although they can evoke the same wetness.

It has drawbacks. I can soak the bed in seconds, sheets, duvet and mattress. Although at least as Domme it is my boy who sleeps in the damp patch and only then after I’ve rubbed his nose in it, literally. You know, thinking about it, that’s not really much of a drawback and it certainly does feel fantastic.
I guess I’m happy to have become a ‘squirter’.

Taken Into The Garden

This, it appears, is what I end up thinking when I spend time in the garden.

I am stripped naked, exposed to my master’s gaze. My wrists tightly bound in rope. Dragged helplessly outside to be fastened in place, my wrists above me, defenseless. My body pressed against the brickwork, it’s roughness scraping my skin. I am whipped, head back, screaming. Begging for mercy.

Cut down, my hands still tied, thrown to the ground, raped for my master’s pleasure. His hands parting my thighs, his cock thrusting inside me. Pounding into me with his lust.
I am covered with his cum, its stickiness spread over my flesh. Its taste in my mouth, forced there by insistent fingers.
I am hosed clean where I lie. Writhing beneath the jets of water, until I am clean, and cold, sobbing and submissive.

I am his slut and he treats me like one.

Looking Sweet in the En-suite

We’ve recently been undertaking some DIY and I’m rather pleased with the results. Do click on any of the images for a closer look.

We’re creating a new en-suite shower room. It’s going to be a wet room so we’ve tiled and waterproofed the entire room.

A recent part of this project has been fitting a new basin. We’ve chosen rather a beautiful one and are keen to show it off to its full advantage.

Continue reading “Looking Sweet in the En-suite”

A Last Goodnight

I wouldn’t really describe this as a sexual fantasy, rather it is a story of love expressed in a peculiarly unique way. It may not be to all tastes but is a story I wanted to explore.

It was the end of the day. A very special day spent together as lovers and friends, but now the sun was setting and it was time for a different kind of loving.
“It’s time for your bath Little One” she told her partner as she stroked his grey hair.
He looked up at his Domme as she stood beside his chair. She looked down at him in return, her eyes full of love. She bent down and kissed his forehead tenderly.

Continue reading “A Last Goodnight”

A Shower on a Summer’s Evening

It was a balmy summer’s evening. Rowena sat on a chair in the secluded garden enjoying the last rays of the sun. On a table by her side a glass of Pimms rested, full of fruit and ice. She picked it up and sipped it; then looked down at the decking and smiled.

Kneeling beside her on the decking Matthew was naked save for a narrow collar. He was on all fours; lapping from a bowl by her feet. He smiled up at her happily and she smiled back.

“Enjoying your Pimms?” she asked, and he nodded enthusiastically, wriggling his hips as if he had a tail to wag.

Rowena patted him on the head gently and continued to sip her drink slowly.

Continue reading “A Shower on a Summer’s Evening”