Ribbons

 

She stood naked, her clothes folded neatly besides the recliner sun lounge.  Her body was tiny looking, frail and breakable. She looked venerable and almost childlike, despite her rounded breasts. Gone was the secure woman of the world, the makeup, the strong clothes which projected her personality. Her hair hung loosely around her face., short and mid brown.  Her face was pale in the moonlight.

 

Beyond the etherealness of her appearance, there was a feeling of calm, of finality, of acceptance. She saw him watching her from across the pool, and she gently waded into the warm water. The stars were bright, the night was clear and the moon was full.

 

She swam silently over to his side of the pool, he looked deep into her eyes, checking for any traces of fear, any doubt, any hesitation. She held her arms together in front of him and he slashed both her wrists in one stroke. Silently and slowly she melted into the water and he sat and watched.

 

She sunk under the water, feeling the sweet pain as the salt water stung in her wounds. She stayed under as long as she could, allow that moment to linger as long as possible and then slowly rose to the surface. She lay on her back floating, enjoying the feeling of the blood flowing out of her veins, of the release of the cuts.  She gently kicked her legs, moving around the pool.

 

He watched her, watched her face, and watched her pale body in the water as she gracefully danced for him, with her beautiful red ribbons streaming out of her arms. After a while she closed her eyes and everything went dark and became far away and she escaped for one glorious moment into a world of such peace and ecstasy.

 

She awoke in the Banana lounge. Her arms throbbed in a deep satisfying way, they said your alive. She looked down and saw her wrists had been neatly stitched and bandaged. She was wrapped in his white robe, it was fluffy and warm. Beside her was a mug of warm soup, and she smiled knowing he had been there, had watched her, had dived in and picked her up before she could fall. Had laid her down and stitched her up, without fuss. He had dried her and allowed her to sleep, the sleep after subspace, had kept his eye on her all that time and when her first flutter of her eyes had ladled her the soup he had prepared.

 

And when he was sure she was through it, before her eyes could focus, he had gone.

Storms

I’ve spoken with friends in the past of my fascination with sex during thunderstorms. There is something so empowering about being at the mercy of the elements, being unable to control in any way the energy of storms, that they have absolute power over you. That you could die from a stray bolt of lightening, that you could flood, that you are powerless and helpless. I guess that for me is a huge part of what in my mind connects sex and storms and BDSM.

 

But there is more than that IMHO, there is an actual energy exchange, I often feel frustrated, on edge, there is a real and palatable energy which seems or appears to build up tension. There is nothing more releasing than sex during a storm, the bigger the storm the better. I will have a restless energy that builds up during the course of the afternoon prior to the storm, that is released in duality by sex and by the storm breaking and then the natural equilibrium and balance of the world is again established.

 

I sat with someone on his veranda the other evening, watching the storms descend over the city, feeling the wind straining through the house as if to say this is merely man made and is so easy to destroy. I watched the rain wash the streets clean.

 

We were in awe, enjoying the raw and powerful energy of the storm. It seemed to work on several levels at once. Both physically and cerebrally.

 

Afterwards, there is calm, an inner peace, a sense of being renewed and revived and indeed invigorated. One would imagine the opposite, feeling spent, but it’s not been my experience thus far.

 

A Dirty Weekend  
   
The plane left the ground and she watched the city laid out before her , like diamonds on a black velvet cloth. She was flying to meet Him, this was to be their first meeting. She was nervous, not the kind of nervous where you twitch and are agitated but that  butterflies in the stomach with anticipation nervous.  
   
They were meeting halfway, a dirty weekend. A romantic adventure in the busy bustle of the crowded city, anonymous in that nobody knew them there.  
   
He was waiting at the airport, the plane was late. He looked confident and relaxed and  she instantly felt at ease. He kissed her firmly and put his hands around her wasp waist. He steered her towards the luggage collection point and said “Wonderful to see you darling, you are exactly as beautiful as I pictured you. “ She smiled.  
   
He was as handsome as she was pretty and the chemistry was instant. His dark eyes winked at her mischievously. “I’ve booked us into the Plaza Hotel, we can take a cab.”  
   
The conversation was cool in the cab, but the atmosphere was sizzling. He placed his hand on her leg and slowly moved up, tracing a delicate line. A delighted smile as he discovered she wasn’t wearing underwear, this was going to be a great weekend. The cab driver peered at them in the rear view mirror and the Man just look back and nodded at him to drive on.  
   
It was raining when they arrived at the hotel. The cab driver was paid, and then stood with an umbrella and He opened her door and helped her out of the cab. The very helpful and very well tipped cabbie carried the luggage, such as it was, a small overnight bag.  
   
He signed them in while she perched on the edge of the lobby seats, her creamy white legs delicately crossed beneath her slim fitted black skirt. He smiled and steered her to the lift, key in hand. The cabbie dutifully followed carrying her luggage. He opened the door and turned and gave the cabbie an extra tip and closed the door firmly.  
   
She disappeared into the bathroom. He heard the shower running and ordered room service to send up some champagne. He lit some candles in the room and opened the curtains to admire the city view. Sydney was magical at night and the  harbour bridge shone in the moonlight.  
   
The champagne arrived just as she was blow-drying her hair. The sweet smell of her perfume wafted out under the bathroom door, making the night air in toxifying. He was almost dizzy with anticipation. He removed his tie and jacket. She came out of the bathroom in a long black satin gown. He felt breathless, her  skin glowed with the warmth of the shower, the room was filled with her presence and the sexual tension was tangible.  
   
It was indeed a magical night. There’s something about two people being alone in a crowd of millions. The ability to hide from the world in a city is far easier than if one were to go to some remote location. The weekend seemed supercharged by the city and the energy of people going about their daily lives oblivious to what was going on in the upper floors of the hotel. There is a great deal more to magic than slight of hand.

 

Summer Sizzler

It was your very typical Australian BBQ. Mum, Dad, the Kids, Grandpa, Grandma. Assorted Sister's Brothers, Nephews, Nieces. She was wearing a skirt, high heels and a nice blouse, had a glass of wine in her hand and was walking around with his sister, chatting about kids and shoes and very normal things. He comes up to her and  says loudly "Hi Hun, you having a good time?" He leans over and whispers to her "You just want me to pick you up and bend you over the couch, and you wouldn't give a damn, would you " and turned back to his Brother in Law and continues his conversation. She smiled, raised one eyebrow and ever so slightly nodded her head in his general direction, and walk on with his Sister. She kept an eye on him through the window while she helped in the kitchen with the other "Girls" and slipped out with a beer when he was nearly empty and he said out loud "That's so sweet Baby" and gave her a demure peck on the cheek and whispered in her ear "That's my cunt and it better be ready, when we get to the car", his Brother gave him the oddest look, as if he had overheard and he ignored it, naturally.

He was watching her across the room while they ate, she had filled his plate for him and sat beside his mother, eating her meal. She looked around quickly, then knowing he was watching and no one else was, she casually crossed her legs, giving him a small glimpse, she wasn't wearing underwear. She didn't need Morse code to know what was on his mind.

Bringing in the dinner plates while she was helping the "girls" clean up he kissed her in the hallway, nearly making her drop her plates. His hand went up her skirt and found what he was looking for. He withdrew his hand sucked his fingers and said "I'm looking forwards to desert" while looking into her eyes. Half an hour later, He yawned and stretched. "Time to go Hun" he said patting her on the bottom casually, and she started saying her goodbyes.

She sat close to him in the car, and they drove home. heres no need to delve into what happened at home. The build-up of anticipation brought an explosive reaction. That's exactly what he had planned. 

 

All Work and No Play Makes Jack a Dull Boy

She entered the office, fitting right in in her fitted black skirt and her neat chiffon blouse over her black camisole. Her dark hair was pulled back into a severe bun and she carried a small brown briefcase, that matched her brown leather court shoes. He sat on his chair, unmoving, unblinking. She sat on his desk, placing one delicate leg on the left leg of his chair, and one on the right. Her skirt was pulled up to show her cunt. She reached up and pulled down her hair. 

She unbuttoned her blouse to show her cleavage, his eyes followed her every move. Her hands then moved down and parted her moist lips and she started to play with her clit, at first gently, then harder and rougher, all the while he looked into her eyes. In one fluid movement he picked her up and threw her across the desk. There was no superfluous movement, just the one. He pulled her skirt up to show her bare arse, she wasn't wearing panties. He grabbed both her arms behind her and held them up high, if she moved even a millimetre, her arms would dislocate, such was his grip on her slender frame. With his other hand he unzipped his pants and took his penis out of his pants. He wasted no time, and thrust his erect penis into her arse. She moaned, it wasn't quite what she had expected.

He moved within her body, taking it as it belong to him. It wasn't his job to please her, it was her job to please him, and he was very pleased. He ground into her, and could feel her body attempt to move up to meet him, despite herself. and his vice like grip. He smiled, he knew her better than she knew herself. He pulled out slowly and entered her vagina, she shuddered, and was limp. He lowered her arms, and grabbed her hair, and  pushed her to her knees, still silent, and she opened her mouth obediently as he slid his penis down her delicate white throat. He came.

She smiled quietly and he patted her on the arse, "Thank you Miss Smith" he said as she buttoned up her blouse and retied her hair, "We'll see you next Thursday" and he got up and open the door and she left, quietly having never said a word through the entire exchange.

 

First Date
   
Their first date was a very public affair, she picked him up at the nasty men's hotel he resided at. It was the sort of dive that inspired fear, fear of who he really was, what his real interest were. This was a dangerous man and he lived on the wild side. He wore a black leather jacket. His black hair was combed over his face, very grungy and slightly gothic looking.

She was wearing a beige silk knitted skirt, it was soft on her skin and clung to her body like a second skin, with the side split showing her shapely legs. It covered a navy blue satin and lace pair of panties. Her shirt was a fine black silk shirt, severe, but if anything it made her look softer, more feminine. Her matching bra was almost visible if you looked down her cleavage. She wore a belly dancing scarf with coins as a belt and it rang softly as she walked in her black strapy high heels. Her makeup was subdued, lips slightly enhanced with burnt sugar, eyes dark with kohl and softly smudged dark plum eye shadow. Her long dark lashes framed her bright green eyes. her cheekbones highlighted with a slight hint of bronzer, that only made her skin paler.

There was an instant connection. The Romany call it the eyes of Ibab, where one is hit with instant attraction. They were at a nightclub, a rather unusual alternate underground nightclub in the inner-city but not the fashionable part. He walked over and put his arm around her. He pulled her close and they danced. Slowly, sensuously. His hand slid down her skirt, he caressed her back and moved down and ran his hands down over the cheeks of her arse to her leg. She moved in closer, her body fitting exactly into his, she raised her leg slightly against his leg, giving him access to her openings.

His hands slid down the front of her leg and explored her slit, eagerly probing her moist lips, which were slightly apart, such was her attraction to him, even though they had only just met. He caressed her clit, feeling it engorge beneath his hand. It was small and neat, like nearly everything about her except her wild dark hair which had a life of its own and was dancing in front of his eyes and moving with every breath he took. His body was up against hers, his penis visibly throbbing, encased in his tight black jeans. her hands moved from his back down his cheeks, pulling him into her tightly.

She leant up against a wall, not knowing how she got there, still swaying to the music, as if in a trance, her eyes locked in his, enthralled. He kissed her and she moaned, she reached down and undid the buckle of his jeans, oblivious to the crowded dance floor and the throngs of people around them. The music was incredibly loud, too loud to think clearly, and they both had only one thing on their minds, a different kind of music, where only two can dance. She unzipped his pants, and he ground into her closer than before, she tilted her head back while he bit at her neck.

He lifted her skirt and moved slightly lower so he could enter her wet opening. The band played on and the people danced, and they were locked in each others embrace. The rhythmic jingling of her belt adding to the music. She raised her other leg and locked them around his waist as he drove into her, again and again until a roaring crescendo.

 

Sensual Sodamy

She shivered as he held her by her throat and entered her body, roughly, there was no doubt in her mind that this was a man.  His grasp left bruises on her slender neck.  She winced momentarily, her body arched unconsciously to accommodate him, arched to meet his thrusts. He slapped her again, sending shooting waves of pleasure pain through her body. he played her body like a finely tuned violin. he picked her up and turned her over, able to toss her around like a rag doll. She tore slightly as he somatised her, she was a very small woman and he was a very large man. She sank under the weight of his body until she lay flat on the bed, biting her lip, trying not to call out.  "Tell me you like it, you slut". "Oh God, Yes, please" she moaned.

 

With a Kiss

 

She lay silently on the suede covered bed, waiting for him to arrive. The door had been left unlocked, there was glasses ready by the bed, in case he wanted a drink. She had lit candles and incense, to make it feel as comfortable and sensual as possible. Clean fresh towels for his use were ready and warm. The night breeze blew through the window, moving the crushed satin chocolate drapes. It was still warm, although the night had long descended. Soon it would be summer and the sultry night air hung heavy with her perfume and expectation. She was wearing what he told her to wear, the waiting was intense and she prayed he would like what he saw when he entered. She turned up the music so no one could hear her cry out, and she couldn't hear him arrive.

She looked down, her dark hair was framing her face, and she wore  a leather hat. Her breasts were bounding out of her black satin bra and spilling over. She was wearing a see through leopard print dress, something special for someone very special. Nice small neat panties, the fig leaf to be torn from her body. Her legs curved down to her long boots, that caressed her shapely calves. Her legs seemed to go on forever into the tip of the boot and the point of the eight inch heel.

He stood watching her for a minute. This slut who laid before him, his slut, his by right. He could reach out and take her, or he could turn and leave. It was always up to him. For a moment he wavered, was she the right woman? He was only interested in someone very very special. Could she possibly please him? Fulfil his needs. She was only a slut, what did her opinion matter. Her eyes were closed. He had been silent, such was his own self control, and she didn't know he was in the room. He spoke, "I am going to make you hurt you filthy little slut."

The thrill of anticipated pain hit her like a wall of sound. She moaned and he slapped her. She held her face higher so he could slap her again. He didn't. He had her arms up above her head and wedged his body between her legs, never for a second loosing his vicelike grip on her arms, her body trapped beneath his weight. She was breathing rapidly, short little pant like sounds. He asked her "what do you want you little slut?" a pause, "Tell me what you want?" His hand slowly moved down to her damp underwear and she tried not to wince as he tore at her newly acquired piercing. Bizarre though it seems, the pain heightened her pleasure. After a moment of dizzyingly pleasure/pain she replied. “I want you to fuck me." "What did you say, slut?” he boomed. “I need you to fuck me", she whispered in a moan.

 

Expectations

They had spoken earlier on the phone, he told her he wanted to come over but wasn't sure if it was that time in their relationship. She told him that if he thought he was her master then he should come and claim his property. Take what was rightfully his. If he didn't feel that he was, then he shouldn't bother. But he would have to take it by force. It was a huge gamble, to put her life, her hopes, her dreams, her ideals and her heart into the hands of another.

To place all her faith in someone else, to give total control to someone else, to have that much trust in someone again. To risk it all on a whim. But life is for living, and some things are worth every risk. This could be one of those things. He pulled her hair and she cried. He remembered, it was something she had said in passing, that she enjoyed having her hair pulled. It mattered a lot, such a small act of tenderness that was unexpected.

Not quite a caress from your first new childhood sweetheart, but for this type of relationship it was a touching sentiment. He kissed her, it seems strange to begin a rape with a kiss. He pushed hard against her legs, grinding into her pelvis.  He stood and looked at her. "you're really just a filthy slut aren't you." She smiled broadly, he had come to claim her. While not quite everyone's idea of the way to start a romance, it was not an everyday romance.

 

Once More

Her breast were full, not the fullness of youth but the fullness of a lactating mother. When she thought of her infant son or her lover, they swelled painfully as her milk came in, and occasionally a small amount of the precious fluid leaked out onto her bra. Tonight he was coming home, be it late in the evening, and her breasts throbbed at the thought of his touch upon them.

His casual slap on the buttocks and tweak of the nipple as his hands caressed her body. It is amazing how fundamentally different it was to have an infant suckling, provoking such beauty, such pain and such happiness, as he greedily rooted around and suckled through the night. Incredible that even though he was tiny; he knew how to find them in the darkness of the night.  Instinctively found the source of food and comfort, not with sight but by smell and by touch.

The infant moved her deeply, as small infants do to a woman. He was totally dependant and reliant upon her body for  not only protection, but nature and comfort. He was instinctively safe and warm and loved in her arms, feeding from her bounty. There was no better place, no greater warmth, no better comfort than the warmth of her breasts and the sweetness of her milk. She thought of the day she had told him of her pregnancy, how he had torn the earring out of her lobe and tasted her blood, saying that now their blood was the same, joined together by the life growing within. He had greedily sucked at her breasts, anticipating the sweetness within, tearing and biting at their creamy smoothness.

Over the coming months they swelled with her body. After the birth came the pain as her milk rushed in to feed the ever hungry mouth, the small parted lips. His tiny hand lay gently on her breasts, total love and total trust. Her man enjoyed the fullness of her ripe body. His work hardened hands roughly caressed and marvelled at this wondrous change in his slender lover. When he touched her, her breasts visibly swelled and occasionally a small drop glistened at the tip of the beautiful long brown nipple. Like his infant son, he drank greedily, making satisfied noises. In turn her uterus contracted and brought not only pain , but a deep satisfying pleasure. Beyond all else they were a family.