Thursday, 13 August 2009

Blood, Sweat, and Tears: My Weekend, Part One.

This post is dedicated to a man you just know is going to be a filthy good time in the bedroom. And the kitchen. And the bathroom. And the car, hopefully whilst he is not still driving it at break-neck speed... or maybe whilst he is: Mr. Condescending.

I would also like to link to a previous post so that some of you do not think I am only about the sex and violence. Press Me.

There was a small party at the weekend at my friends' house in the countryside. There were three couples, including us. I was absolutely itching for some good playtime, the kind that turns over and over in your head for the entire next week or more. The kind that leaves purple bruises all over your body, and your muscles aching so much, that the next day, you feel like you have spent several hours in the gym.

I wore my short pink rubber babydoll with little white latex frills, at Alistair's request. There were pigtails in my hair, and white socks pulled above my knees. And of course, the matching pink mary-jane heels.

We all played a little here and there, and I had the pleasure of climbing inside the vac-bed. For those of you who do not know, this is like a large rubber duvet-case that you climb inside, and are zipped in. There is a breathing tube which you hold in your mouth so that you do not die horribly. Air is then sucked out, creating a vacuum. From the outside, this is gorgeous to watch, because as the rubber is sucked down onto the person inside, you can see every contour and curve of there body. Sadly, no pictures were taken so I cannot show you what I looked like. In all honesty, it isn't a terribly sexual experience for me, but one I love, nonetheless. Mainly because as the rubber closes in around you, the entire world falls away. You cannot hear or see, and the only thing that you smell is the latex. It is as if nothing else exists, and you have been cast adrift, floating away from reality.

After I had climbed out, more little moments of play ensued, as well as copious amounts of narcotics... On the whole, I am in charge of medicating everyone, good little girl that I am. Sadly, I appeared to have forgotten that, whilst physically extremely feeble, I could possibly out-party a warhorse. Alistair is somewhat more delicate. And he likes women to feed him drugs, as this potentially renders him slightly more helpless for them to abuse. And once he has had some, he thinks less and less about accepting more.

In many ways, that second dose of MDMA powder was a mistake. I had ended up naked, as I always seem to, and had gone to investigate Alistair's whereabouts. I found him with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, trembling uncontrollably in the toilet. At this point, for those readers of a nervous disposition, I must stress that he was fine, he had just overdone it. At first, I spoke to him soothingly, and stroked his hair. And then I leant in to kiss his head. I brushed away some of his hair and pressed my lips to his skin. It was warm and damp with a thin layer of sweat. Tendils of long hair of the darkest brown clung to his forehead, and his face looked pale. Through his lips, I could see his perfect little white teeth clenched, so as to prevent his jaw juddering.

And as I stood over him, and watched him there, shaking and helpless, my urge to nurse him transformed into something else. There was something so exquisitely beautiful, so irresistably satisfying in watching him... And I wanted him. I wanted fistfuls of his hair. I wanted to drag him onto the floor and use him, and feel him trembling beneath me. I told him how hot he looked, how helpless he looked. I told him that I was sorry, and that I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't help myself...

But then something happened.

He slowly lifted his head, the drugs had made his eyes larger, deeper. If ever there were a pair of eyes that could pierce right through me , it is his. He fixed his gaze on mine, and through gritted teeth, he said to me,

"You are so going to pay..."

I felt my throat tighten, and a shiver ran down my spine and finished between my legs. I both hoped he had not noticed, and prayed that he had. He said it to me again,

"You are so going to pay..."

And somewhere inside one of the darker recesses of my mind a layer peeled back to reveal a part of me I had not seen in years.

I wanted him to be angry at me.

Angry at me for getting him so high that the word "dignity" was fast losing any meaning for him.

And he was so very, very pretty.

Especially when his eyes flashed with viciousness,

"You are so, so going to pay." He swung at me clumsily, I ducked. The second time, his palm half hit my cheek. Then he promptly slid off the toilet-seat and crumpled in a heap on the floor.

I wanted him to be angry at me.

"What are you going to do?" I said to him, "You are so wasted, you can't even stand."
"You-are-so-going-to-pay," he said between gulps of air. I smiled with glee,
"You are so hot right now."
I must confess that my smile masked something very different. I needed him to retaliate. I needed that look to be real, and for every single word of his threat to be true. And even though I am no masochist, I wanted him to be violent towards me.

Having someone hurt you because they want to because they enjoy it, is one thing. Having someone hurt you because they want to because they are pissed at you, at that moment at least, was everything.

Rather like a child with a box of matches who can see the impending injury dance before her eyes, but feels compelled to press on, I did.

I climbed over him, sat on the toilet, and started playing with my pussy. Partly because I was so aroused, partly in an attempt to antogonise him, and partly because it seemed like an utterly wrong thing to do.

Wrong makes me wet.

No, really.

I stopped touching myself when Jimmy bounded down the hall and crouched next to Alistair. He is extremely tall, hyperactive, and a little subbie. But he had been trying to push me around all night. I had relented slightly, but only because Alistair had been (helping?) him.

I couldn't tell exactly what Jimmy was saying, as I was too busy goading Alistair. But I am quite sure it probably involved his penis in some way. Alistair was becoming ever so slightly more able to function. He grabbed a bunch of my hair and wrenched me down next to him. My head is particularly sensitive just above my neck. Pulling my hair is one of the surest ways to silence me. Alistair swung his hand back. In the few seconds he held it there, I knew from the distance, and the look in his eye, that it was going to hurt. His jaw tightened, and his hand landed square on my cheek, perhaps harder than he has ever hit me before. But he did not stop. He slapped me again and again and again, with such a force, that when he finally stopped, I felt dazed.

And it wasn't enough.

He still had my hair held tightly, and my face had been drawn close to his. He smiled his wicked smile,

"You are so going to pay for this."

I looked him straight in the eye, and spat in his face.

I do believe that for a fleeting moment, I saw a look of shock flash across him.

"That is it!" he said, "You are going to be licking cunt for the next five years," This was repeated several times. Alistair knows that there is one thing I hate more than the word "cunt", and that is the prospect of oral contact with female genitalia. I wish things were different. I wish I liked it. I just don't.

He dragged me out of the door by my hair. We were now on the cold floor of the hall that led into the kitchen. He started slapping me again and again. I thought I could feel my cheeks swelling, and they were certainly red.

A sense of delicious forboding descended upon me, because I knew I was slipping. I knew that, as I looked at Alistair's beautiful face, he had me again. And I both hated and loved him for it.

He pulled me onto all fours and said something to Jimmy. I cried out as I felt Jimmy pushing something a little too large into my arse. I think I asked Alistair not to. He told me to be quiet, and I could hear Jimmy behind me telling me to stop making so much fuss, as he fucked my arse harder and harder.

Alistair's favourite way to stop me making so much noise is to thrust his cock into my mouth. It is difficult to make much sound with ten inches easing its way down your throat. He told me to shut-up and suck his dick, just as Jimmy pushed another large object inside my pussy. Full and stretched, and being fucked mercilessly from behind, I felt that I would not be able to bear anymore.

This time, it was Alistair who spat in my face. I could feel droplets of his saliva rolling down my skin.

And I knew I would have done anything for him.

And I knew that we were very far from done.


  1. Whoa! Not sure where to start.

    Whilst I'm not claustrophobic, the vac-bed I can only imagine must be like being buried alive? Scary.

    As for the rest, the combination of sex and violence makes me somewhat uncomfortable, to say the very least. It's a whole heap of wrong. But as you say, wrong makes you wet, so who am I to judge?

  2. The vac-bed is not for everyone, and one friend tried it, and was quickly unzipped.

    As for the violence... well I don't usually play in quite the way detailed above. And as we all know, I do the whole makin' sweet love thing too...

    Upon hindsight, perhaps Mr. C actually won't be on board for this one...

  3. I am totally claustrophobic.

    But the toilet scene was pretty hot. Though I don't understand your aversion to licking pussy.

  4. Y@Valerie: eah, I can totally see how it would be too much for some people. Actually, at one point, Alistair blocked up my air tube (in a responsible, fleeting fashion). Rather than assume that that is what had occurred, I signalled for it all to be stopped, because I thought the mechanics had broken. When the situation was pointed out to me, I happily zipped myself back up...

    Glad you liked the toilet scene, thought. It was fucking hot.

    As for pussy, I wish I liked it. I have tried. I just don't. I gues it's like Marmite... you either love it or hate it.

  5. Fucking hot. I wanted to just go molest the first man I met on the street.

    There's nothing like a man who wakes up your libido all the way.

  6. Oh. My. God.

    I have to pick my jaw up off the floor.

    This is so raw and real. I loved it. The idea of the vac-bed makes me squirm with anxiety, but if you're into it, then that's wonderful. For me, the combination of sex and violence pushes all kinds of panic buttons because of shit that's happened in my life, but there's no denying this was so fucking hot. Especially this: "Full and stretched, and being fucked mercilessly from behind, I felt that I would not be able to bear anymore." Yes, please.

    And you know I love pussy. It's OK. I'll eat your share.

  7. @Teacup: Once you relax and really believe you are safe, the vac-bed is amazing, but some people can't get to that point.

    I totally get that the sex and violence can push many buttons for some people. And actually, it is usually not about violence for me... It's more about the emotional fuck for me. (Which actually stems from my past... I might write on that someday.
    But I am glad there was some hotness to be had for you.
    And you can eat all of the pussy for me. Hooray. A match made in heaven.


You kiss your mother with that mouth?