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a fantasy...
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a fantasy... I'd had Doms before, he knew this. He also knew the frustration I felt, finding someone willing to be as...rough as I liked. Many men say they're disciplinarians, enjoy fully getting into the scene, but I'd yet to find one who was truly willing to let go of themselves. I'd misbehaved, struggled, did everything I could, but for some reason could not find someone to truly control me, and I had almost given up in finding someone I could truly call Sir. That was my problem, he told me one night over the phone, laughing softly. You don't need a Sir. Or a Dom. You need a Master. Someone willing to do whatever it takes to make you behave, to let that masochist in you truly come out, isn't that right? I didn't like to admit it but he was right. No one had ever been willing to cause me pain, when all I needed was a little bit and then I would give so much pleasure back in return. We'd always been friendly with each other. We met in a BDSM chatroom, became friendly, talked in private, and finally exchanged . It wasn't a relationship, it was a friendship, and our phone conversations were rare. He traveled a lot for business, never to my part of the country though. But he'd been flirting and hinting for some time that he was planning a vacation soon, maybe spending time in my area for a couple days. There was no way I could pass it up. And so there we were. At a pool hall downtown, he in his t-shirt and jeans, me in a spaghetti-strapped floral-print dress. I was blushing at being overdressed, but he just smiled and said it was perfect. I'm OK at pool, but nowhere near as good as him. I tried to distract him the best I knew how, but he just seemed to be humoring me. Finally he pulled me close to him. "I am trying to keep track of how many strokes you're getting from the flogger tonight. Right now you're up to thirty. Would you like to continue your behavior, or is thirty enough?" I just stared as he got up, lined up his shot, and won yet another game. I walked around the table and racked them up for another one. It wasn't too long before I was back to playing around, and a couple times he just gave me stern looks, indulging me just a bit. But after one ass wiggle too many, he bent down and whispered "Now it's forty. Time to go before you get in any deeper." He'd arrived in town earlier in the afternoon, checked in, and taken a cab to the pool hall, so I drove us back to his hotel. He asked me to give him the bag I'd packed at his request, use the restroom and "freshen up", have a seat at the bar - a drink if I wanted, only one - and wait about 20 minutes for his text telling me which room he was in. It felt like hours, waiting to hear from him. I sat in the bar for 10 of those minutes, then went to touch up my makeup only to discover I was somehow red from my head to my toes and there was nothing I could do about it. I was nervous as hell. All of our phone conversations and online flirtations ran through my mind. He'd told me he had a slightly sadistic side; told me I'd never had someone who could truly give me the right balance of punishment, degradation, pain, and pleasure that he would give me if given the chance. I'd been disappointed more than once. Did I want to take that chance? .............................................I know where this is going, but do you want to see the rest of it? let me know!! |
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Hell yes don't stop now, please.
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more please more!!! its so mmm good 
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Yes, continue. Si Vis Pacem Para Bellum Audentes Fortuna Iuvat Politicians. Lampposts. Assembly Required.
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5/30/2016 12:04 pm |
More would be nice.
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