Disturbed, demented, and deviant

I've recently decide to look at my climax problem and a "it's got to be me" problem. I've just had sex with X and K, and let's just say wow and Damn. Every time I came close to soaring, my body would get tight and I would be totally focused on being pleasured and then right before I find out what if anything comes next, something always shatters my focus. And I'm starting to think that maybe it's a me problem.

I mean he's going down on me like a drowning man in a desert, and I am drenched for him. I can stare into his eyes as he eats me and it feel like one more touch, pinch, bite is going to be something more? Would it have been the girlfriend clamping her hand over my throat and twisting my nipple every so often. 

You like his mouth on you, don't ya bitch. I told you my man has skills. You're about to pop like a balloon. He's got you right there doesn't he? Yeah drown him in your nasty juices. You like being our little play slut? Nothing but a toy used for pleasure and put back afterwards?

But this train screeches to a halt as she shoves her breasts in my mouth, and it's not the one more thing that I need. I'm so frustrated. 

Then I thought, what if it really is just me? What do I do about it? Was I frightened of it? Did it scare me? What was stopping me from plummeting into a pool of pleasure? Would it mean more? Less? This question drives me to distraction. How do I get that when I can't do it by myself? 

I wish I had the words to describe how awkward things were last night between the three of us. Lady K asked Mr. X and I if we'd like to have a threesome. Just out of the blue yesterday morning. There was a whirl of planning and talking about safety net lines. A very short list of rules was decreed.

We met at their house at the appointed hour, well, slightly past because I got into the fender bender before I got there. I walk in like that, about to piss myself and nicting for a cigarette, very vulnerable and awkward. I walk in saying a passing high not hug, set my junk on the table ( still while regailing them with this story), hold up one finger to him to wait just one minute, and raced to the bathroom. I must have moaned loudly cause when I came out, hand washed, ready to be comforted... They just stared at me like I had two heads. (Opening)

So, suck-ass way to start the night but whatever right? I hugged her, and gave him an awkward nod as I lit up a cigarette and sat on thier loveseat. Why did I choose there? It's my go to space. Three on a couch is intimate. I like to be invited to sit there with them. So he gives me about an inch of blunt on table and gestures to me to have at it. They just got done with it. So I spark up and what happens? After the fifth pull I coughed so hard I pissed myself.

Excused myself, and immediately went back to the bathroom. Now I was preparded for this. I had the thickest pad in existence especially made for holding volume liquid without wearing a diaper. I pull down my pant which are relatively dry and find my underwhere is soaked thru. I take off my pants, chuck the pad, and slide off my panties. I thanked the heavens for moist cottenelle wipes, and the people who use them. Now here's the odd part. My panties don't smell nothing like piss. It's faint like water and light floral hints. Of course, now I have to go out there and tell them I've had an accident.

Or I do what I do best which is hide, conceal, and deny. So, I ditch the panties to one side of the toliet, wipe myself down, pull pants back up and walk out there commando. I make the very briefest of eye contact with him. (Opening) I sit back in My spot not making eye contact. I do not spark back up. 

Instead, we watch music videos with kick ass baselines that I can feel in my very core. My nipples are vibrating and abraiding my shirt which another thigh crosser.  Half an hour passes, he rolls another blunt, and we all get lit. Personally, I'm hornier than I've been in years. I look at these two beautiful people. There's no fear or doubt in my mind. They find me sexy and attractive.

He suggets we play cards, and I just wanna crawl acrossed the living room, free his cock and take hime in my mouth while he finishes that cigarette. I gave my best seductive look and a quirk of my lips, before I sashay my luscious ass over to the table. (Opening) She's licking her lips cause she's noticed the absence of pantyline, which she loudly whispers that I seem to have lost my panties. (Opening)

We don't play poker for clothes, or lightly flirt over rummy. We play magic: the gathering, which as,you know, I love, but my nipples are feathering over the table because of the way I'm sitting. My pants feel so good against my commando skin. As good as they feel I want them gone. I wanna sit on the hard cock that's tenting his lounge pants. We're all waiting for it. Him to sweep her into his arms and kiss her passionately crooking his finger at me, knowing that with a gesture, a look, even a silent command would have me dropped to my knees to suck his cock. (Opening sign is flashing now)

After we finish the second game, he asked what did we want to do next. Lady K snapped and said let's watch porn on the tv. (Flashing neon sign that jingles it's bells whenever it moves Opening) I'll spare you the torture of trying to pick out porn when we're not really sure what the others like. Something picked out, moans coming from the tv, moans and kissing smacks are pulling my attention away from the screen. Lady K is in the middle. After a torturous 15 minutes of porn, she finally stands up and says "Nobody watches porn like this.

She pulls my sweater off and as I'm laying it out of the way they have stripped each other completely naked. She's still in the middle, but shes kissing him, while I kiss her neck, her back. I run my tongue tracing her tattoos. This night everyone knows is about her pleasure, passion, and her completion. If we want more of these play sessions that Mama K gots to get her climaxes.

To be continued...

I went outside to smoke and channel the full moon outside. A strong part of me wished to lay naked in the grass soak in the pale and powerful moonlight, but the practical thing is it's cold outside, and the neighbors would probably be offended. The only way to channel more energy is through sex, the more people you have, the power you can raise to work your will. I raise so much myself that the moon looked for a moment like a shining pearl atom.

That's why tonight is important, and the beach that's just romantic right? Wrong, they're going to channel naked having sex on the beach near his element, the ocean, mother to us all. He's gonna draw on all that energy. From the moon, the eclipse, the water and fashion all that caged power he's going to unleash something life altering spell (just another way of bending the universe to your will, praying, meditation.) 

For a moment, I almost tackled a particularly good looking package of beef running down the street. It's better like this. He with his and me with mi... Well me. I guess this wouldn't all be so important if he weren't my hook up as well. This question is driving me nuts. If the couple wants to play what do I say? My answer could change our collective outcome. I'm asking for advice here "What do I say?" What's the right answer?

T shirt, panties, and feet wet from the rain of a brisk autumn, I stand Powder Proud with a cigarette in my hand as I soak in the power of the Goddess at the peak of her fullness. (For those of you that don't know its a movie about an albino kid who attracts lightening.) 

I start thinking of Mr X and Lady K who are both asking for relationship advice from me. Turns out she's not a Domme, and he's a Daddy.

The motives around the whole relationship are askew. He's just been dumped, and Mr. C who is a friend to both knows that X's a great guy and and that K's marriage is on the jagged peak of Everest. He solves all her problems. He's handsome, virile, bisexual Adonis, and he wants her, finds her attractive. Plus at X's expense, she gets a new home, a new job, and regular wonderful sex as kinky or vanilla as she needs.

I know what it's like to use one person to pry yourself out of a bad relationship by entering into a new one. So I see what's going on. K's trying to hold on to the new stability she's found as she feels it slowly unwinding to its doom. She's told lies to get there. She told him she would do anything, be anything for him. She told him she revelled in the same kind of kinks he NEEDS in his life. The plan is falling apart (3 months) so far, too soon, but they both met a special girl, one who is exactly who he needs.

Cause this special girl knows a slut when she sees one, and Lady K isn't one. She hasn't turned down a two guy threesome yet, but what woman would? She's making rules as soon as they meet someone because she knows. I see through her mask. She knows he's too extreme for her but she's really comfy. She knows denying him is making him unhappy.

They would have figures it out 3 years later when X is openly going off on his own to meet his needs, and K resents that he has them. Until one day, one of them finally snaps. But they met the special girl and K likes her as a friend, a best friend. X sees his other half standing in front of him. And now he's cursing himself for jumping at the first girl who offered instead of waiting for the one waiting on him.

Sad thing is they don't deserve to be miserable. They both deserve to be happy. He deserves to have a main squeeze who's proud to be his slut, and K deserves a man with tamer appetites who will care for her just as well.

I can't say anything. I'm biased. I wanna lay down at his feet and offer him my service, but she and I are friends and it's horrible to screw over a friend. Even when they realize that they're not for each other, I'll still be off-limits in girl code. So I gain everything I've ever wanted in a man and lose a friend. Or I keep the friend and most likely lose another friend. Or I break the news to them, and they both hate me.

I've only met two men in my life that I just wanted to drop down and worship them. One was married to the wrong person, and the other's dating the wrong person. I left the other couple to get thier priorities straightened out, and they stayed together blaming thier rough patch on me. I don't wanna lose two friends. 

Am I what's wrong with thier relationship? 

Make no mistake, that I am a slut in need of training. Not all of us understand our vital role in society as sluts because the training is taken for granted. We all started learning there. Except while some of us graduated from bj class and went on to train in other areas vagina, anal, or kinks. Others of us just studied intensely one subject. Four years of grueling study. By the time I graduated I barely one the names for all my body parts. I grew up sheltered, stunted lil runt. 

I knew I was a slut the day I picked up my dad's playboy and saw hot lesbians in leather and chains. It became core for memory for me. I am a bisexual slut, but I wasn't one of the shy ones drawn into escapades. I was the one that no body had talked to, and when they did, I was so worked up trying to figure out normal facial cues, so I could read them. I wanted to join whatever universal understanding they had for knowing it was gonna be a wild party. Time and place were incidental.

So the fool me once, shame on me. That one's cause I didn't know any better. I've had several people message me about how wonderful my blog "First" was. You seem to be missing the point. For a week, I serviced this man's every beck and call. I didn't dream to safe word or say I was uncomfortable when I was. He was Old Guard. A collar meant something once.once. But you're missing a huge part of the story. I was in this man's arms for a week in every position imaginable, and not once did I orgasm. He was awesome until I went back to school and suddenly poof, he's gone with what I was saving for something special. All I have is some cheap costume jewelry he found at Claire's.

From the very first, I was let down. It didn't matter that I'd even taken his punishments stoically. One day I was teeasure, and the next I was trashed. I just keep attracting the same people. My submission is not a game or a joke. When I'm physically forced to disobey, I would really rather die than face the disappointment. The punishment I can handle. The disillusioned sorrow in a Master or Mistress' eyes tear me to my very core.

So when I tell you up front. No I did not keep the plug in all night. I took it out for bodily functions, and when I was finished, I was bleeding, so knowing I would be punished and your cobfidence in me will deflate. I chose not to further exacerbate the problem. I think we can all agree that SSC. If you were with your sub you wouldn't jam it back in when she was already bleeding. (Or maybe you would, and that's your kink and thats ok).

The type Dom/Master I deserve would have asked if I was ok after that hole, so long since use, had been stretched. When I mentioned the,bleeding, he should have asked me if I was ok; had it stopped? First thing I get from you is you better have that plug in your ass, BITCH. You're not worried about me at all. You don't care. From the first, you show you don't care.

I may be a filthy slut. My mind may be so depraved that I should be jailed for my thoughts alone. But even I deserve someone who cares. Submission comes out in stages. Maybe instead on running out of your closet with every toy you own and jabbing them at me, you might wanna dial it down 100 notches. 

Maybe I'm wrong in this. Maybe Dom's are either fully off or fully on. But the whole writing in caps thing is so over. No one wants that word popping up in bold big letters so that everyone can read my private business.

I've got a medium sized butt plug shoved all the way up my ass. I stings and burns. I'm aching to cum. If it stays in much longer I may just spontaneously cum. what he meant as a tease might end up giving me a spontaneous orgasm. And this is just the first of the exquisite chances to come.

My body held up nude and bound before you, chains bind me in a cross. The bass so loud I can feel the music in my clit. I'm blindfolded the ultimate sensory deprivation and at the same time overload. You taken touch and sight, and I'm vibrating in the tune of your music. I imagine Glen Miller, Bach, or Beethoven, but you surprise me with bands that rock. Whenever I hear any one of these songs I'll be transported back here to this moment where there is only the cage and my body lying in a perfect cross waiting for the pain.

I feel weights being clipped to my nipple rings creating a sharp ache. Then maybe your favorite clover clamps to add that bit of pinch that takes my breath in a gasp. And then the riding crop smack against the inside of my thighs creating a sharp burning. And this is where my eyes cross because I can feel your calloused hands setting a brutal pace against my fleshy, white ass. The first tear slips out when the flogger joins in on my upper back and my unprotected front at the same time. 

More weight is added, but the clips are yanked off ruthlessly, but the flogger transforms the experience until I'm keening from sensory overload. The crop starts tapping the rythmn of the base on my clit, once again my ass is full but it's the vibrating one and I swear I feel you smirk as you turn it on.

My body convulses against the restraints, and anyone but you would be fooled into thinking I'd orgasmed without permission. All the implements are swinging harder now punishing me for the perceived transgression. The hand stops. The weights are lifted from thier rings.

A fist is shoved up my cunt, I scream. I don't beg. I won't plea. I won't safe word, but your practiced eye is waiting for the moment when I push myself too hard. The fist begins pumping and both of my nipples are simultaneously twisted to the point I lose breath. 

Now there you are soft at my ear. I struggle to hear you, but when I hear you say cum slut and feel you bite my flesh my body obeys without queation. It at least knows who has Mastered it.

Forgive me, I'm transfixed by your profile picture, I can so easily see myself kneeling there my arms stretched back and bound tightly in black rope to contrast well with my milky white skin topless as no doubt she was when the photo was taken. I feel the blindfold's caress of silk; my lips wrapped tightly around a ball to big for my mouth. What sweet torture have you decided to make my nipples stand on end as my body arcs into the perfect photograph of submissive bliss.

Are you flogging me? Am I being punished or is this just foreplay? Is there a plug buried in my ass that you're cranking up with an app? Maybe it's both or the weighted nipple clams in my pierced buds? Is that the Hitachi fashioned to press on my clit as suck both pleasure and pain from me? Or am I being double fucked and the camera chose the mountain of bliss for that shot. I can hear you say "That's my nasty lil slut. Such a good girl for me," I am contented.

So Mr. X from my post Chained, has a serious girlfriend, who we'll call Lady K, you'll see why in a second, who are in a Daddy/Baby girl dynamic. Lady K is a crafty bitch, and she knows what she wants, but she's slippery too cause she acts like she has no clue.  He thinks he's the dominant in the house and she's his sub when it's really the complete opposite.

He finds me attractive and wants so badly to use me as a wanton 3-hole slut. Today he came to the door dripping wet, and in a towel and I nearly swallowed my tongue. I'd interrupted thier shower. I wanted to drop to my knees and beg his forgiveness, and follow him into the bathroom and do anything to make life easier on them.

They both come out in comfy pajamas. X isn't wearing a shirt and I can see that V evertone talks about, defined. And He's cooking for us while we talk. There is nothing sexier than a domestic man. Someone who cooks and takes pride in it and who does the dishes. This man cooked for me, and all through dinner all I can think about is sitting naked at his feet.

And then of course that I asked the question that ive been dying to know the answer to: Did he where the chain on purpose last time just to rile me up. He smiles and neglects to answer. K cries out of course not, but the look in his eyes knows that I've been obsessing over it since it happened. Intentional, deliberate, and purposeful, a early sign putting me firmly in my place.

My place is below Lady K. My place is below Mr. X. I've never seen a more natural Mistress as K very subtly changing her attitude, and he adjusts like a thermostat, so natural to him that he doesn't even know it happened. One look and I can tell he worships her, would do anything for her. And here she is twisting me all in knots. She's more sadistic than he is, it's effortless. With a gesture or a look, she tells him just how to leave me the most frustrated, because she knows I won't cum without his permission, ipso facto, hers.

As I leave out the door tonight, Lady K says, "He did wear the chain on purpose," she grins and then kisses him, and I'm left driving all wet and needy. What's nuts is I would never take an order from a woman, but for some reason I would take one from her. I would execute it gladly, whatever she wants.

Again with the not listening. I'm not gonna call anyone out, but what about my last post made you think for one minute that I would respond to the question, "Will you be my Mistress?" favorably?  Are you out of your gourd? I am a submissive bordline slave. Why would you want me as a Mistress? I would be terrible, and not in the good fun way.

( Yes, I do understand that by calling someone out is just fulfilling thier need for attention. Sometimes, slightest tap will get you through to the end, sometimes.)

Putting all that behind us, I think I should tell you about my first and only Dom. I was in college, and I met this guy in a D/s chat room. I'm 20 years old, and interestingly enough still a virgin. I shit you not. I'd given blowjobs and handjobs, but I'd never been penetrated before Him. So I'm in the chat room just seeing what I can see, picking up proper protocols from interactions, and He messages me.

 I check him out. No picture; He's 56. My own father is younger. Yet the way he spoke to me, like I was a woman and one of equal intelligence. He paid attention to me; he taught me things, things no college boy would teach me. I was in love with the idea of being his. It didn't matter that he was nothing much to look at. He had the aura.

This Master, He was the kindest man in the world, and He was so patient with me. For my entire freshman year and half my sophomore we laughed and played. He trained me on how to be His. Spring break came and I flew all the way from Charlotte to Santa Fe to spend an entire week with him.

I know what you're thinking. This couldve gone wrong in so many ways. He could have been a serial killer, a slave trafficker, anything, but He wasn't. He was my Master waiting with his video camera as I walked off the plane.

He picked up my bag like a gentleman from the carousel and escorted me to his jeep, where he first took care of the baggage and then boosting me up into the seat slipping his middle finger straight up my cunt to check and see if I'd worn no panties and if I'd shaved His pussy for him under the nearly indecent skirt he had me fly in. He buckled me in and shut the door. On our way to the hotel, He ordered me to lift my skirt, putting my wet pussy on display and He played with me while stopped at red lights, the truckers egging him on with blasts of thier horns.

When we got in the room, He had me immediately kneel and collared me. I was expecting him to test me first, but he was so hungry for me that he couldn't wait. He lifted his cock from his jeans and without being told I sucked, as hungry for him as he was for me. He spent the next three days using every single hole he wanted, waking me in the middle of the night and taking me. I almost had an orgasm.

When I left I had a beautiful collar and some wonderful memories, but he didn't want me anymore. He wanted my virginity, all of it. I was glad to give it to him. Even though I didn't climax, I had a wonderful time. 

Gods, even my first time sounds like a pity screw.

Honest, blunt questions deserve honest blunt answers. I'd almost say borderline rude/crude creep with your questions. Of course now having written that, I'll get a bunch of dick pics and Your train in begins now girl emails. Taking that risk. Wouldn't you rather have someone just say what they actually mean instead of what we think you want us to say. 

So I'll say it like this: single, white female kinky, submissive with slave tendencies, loves impact 3-hole slut...oh and there's her pic, au natural, concealing nothing from you who if you're the right One will appreciate rather than snear at. 

The right One will see that although I might want to be in a Gorean Master/slave relationship, that right now I'm not ready for that level of serious commitment right off the bat, that's the end goal of the relationship would be me serving my Master knowing with every fiber of my being that He would never injure me.

I wanna be more than service. I wanna game with you. I wanna play magic and DnD with you. I wanna share your interests and hope you take an interest in mine: classic rock, card and board games, sci-fi everything. I'm a geek.

I wanna be me, just Yours as well. I wanna be the one to slake your desires, all of them, but at the same time I know that I would never be able to completely satiate you. The hunger never really goes away. It shifts into food, water, sleep and some things I can help You with, and yes, some things I can't. Of course I could be wrong, You might desire me and only me until death rips me from your arms.

I mean guys don't fall in love with our personalities at first sight. They fall for your tits, your ass, your eyes, your legs, and they stay around because of what we're willing to do with them. For how far we will go to do anything to please our Master.

So I will sit here on this path with my hand outstretched and wait for Your grasp. And I'll know it's you because you'll make me want to do the three things I've never done and you will make me to show me that I am yours.