The Photo Shoot (Part II)

( You can read part one of The Photo Shoot, here).

Suicide Girl pressed up against me, teasing my pussy with the tip of the strap-on. I moaned.

“Do you want this?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“Yes, who?” she and The Switch asked in unison.

“Yes, Mistress,” I whimpered.

“That’s better,” she replied.

I was aching. From the moment I walked into the bedroom and saw her, I’d been overcome with lust. Being so close to her with a strap-on between us was torture. Mercifully, she didn’t wait long before putting me out of my misery.

She slid it slowly inside me, once, twice, and then fucked me fast with it. I moaned loudly, entering that space where coherent thoughts are impossible and sex is almost an out of body experience. Suicide Girl was moaning now too, her pace growing jerkier, and I could tell without looking that The Switch was behind her, fucking her doggy-style.

We fucked until we collapsed with exhaustion, three layers deep. The fog lifted and we realized that camera was clicking and the make-up lady was still standing in the corner. Both were kinksters, and neither batted an eye, but I am slightly concerned by my ability to become so consumed by sexual contact that everything else, including other people in the room, disappears. I am not so much an exhibitionist, as I am a person who loves sex so much that self-consciousness and propriety are not even a factor.

The make-up lady packed up her styling gear and half-joked about how she was going home to jump her husband before their company arrived. The photographer left soon after, but The Switch got a text from him two minutes later saying he wanted to come back and rub our feet (he has a foot fetish, ha ha). The remaining three of us drank wine for a few more minutes in the living room, until The Switch said “Take off your clothes,” and made his way to the bedroom.

“Okay,” we said immediately, shucking the clothing we’d replaced only minutes before and climbing into bed with him, naked.

Suicide Girl and I kissed and groped, while The Switch fingered her. He entered her with his cock, and she narrowed her eyes and looked at me. “Get your pussy on my face.”

She licked and sucked me, rubbing with her tongue and nipping with her teeth, spreading me with her fingers to make sure she hit everything.

“Come for me,” she commanded in a deep, throaty voice.

I moaned loudly, muscles squeezing, pussy throbbing, soaking wet.

The Switch threw me on the mattress, held my hands above my head, and pounded into me with incredible force. I screamed, eyes half closed, as Suicide Girl gently shushed me. “Too loud,” she said, running her hand lightly up my arm.

I bit my lip and tried to make less noise. I didn’t want The Switch’s basement tenant to complain, but I have never been known for my ability to keep quiet.

He fucked me until we had nothing left, and then we all fell asleep, a tangle of limbs, holding each other.

The Photo Shoot (Part I)

The Switch met me with a hug, poured me glass of wine, and led me back to his bedroom.

“There’s not a lot of space,” he warned. “But we can squeeze into the corner.”

He was right. A large light occupied one corner, in another was a man with a camera, and by the window stood a red-head with chopsticks in her hair, holding a reflector. On the bed was Suicide Girl. Her long blue hair fanned out around her face, and her tattoos covered her body. She looked up at me and smiled–a bad-ass mermaid shipwrecked on land.

The Switch introduced me to everyone. I said hello, then made myself scarce, allowing the professionals to do what they were there to do. I was a spectator–for now.

The photographer directed the posing, the stylist swooped in every few minutes to re-apply lipstick or smooth a stray hair, and The Switch and I stood and stared, our temperatures rising. At one point he picked me up by my crotch and smirked.

“Getting a little damp there?”

“Yep,” I quipped. “Through my jeans!” When Suicide Girl stuck out her ass and propped a leopard-print heel up on the bed, I nearly came. God.

It was time for a wardrobe change. I followed the women-folk into the kitchen. Suicide Girl stripped off her lingerie without a hint of self-consciousness and began to dig around in her bag for her next outfit. I was amazed at how much lingerie she had, and she told me I could try on anything I wanted. Minutes later I was standing in the kitchen in a black bra, and matching black and red garter and thong. I was just messing around, but was soon informed that I was now part of the photo shoot. At first they wanted me just as decoration–they chained me to the dungeon wall as background art for Suicide Girl’s shots. Eventually, though, she started to touch, kiss and grab me, and that was caught on film too.

When those shots were done, they unchained me, and Suicide Girl and I were instructed to get on the spanking bench. They took some photos, and then The Switch told her to get up.

“What am I going to do with you?,” he mused aloud, referring to me. “Okay. Suicide Girl. You can do whatever you want to her.”

“I get to do what I want to her!?” I couldn’t see her face, but I could tell by her tone of voice that she was smiling  and possibly bouncing up and down. She sounded like a kid at Disney Land.

I received several bare-handed spanks to start off. Then the whip came out, and while it didn’t exactly tickle, I wanted more.

“Harder you Pussy!” I smirked.

And from there I was completely dominated. I ended up yelling “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”  and then I got some cuddles and kisses to make it better. Not a bad reward for my insolence!

The Switch left the room for a couple of minutes while Suicide Girl and I snuggled on the bench, and when he came back he said “Suicide Girl, you’re wanted in the kitchen for a minute. They want to fix your make-up.”

She left the room and I was instructed not to move. When she came back and climbed up behind me, there was a distinct difference in the way she felt: She was wearing a strap-on.

(To Be Continued…)

The Surrogate Sir (Part I)

While my Sir is away, he arranged for me to be trained by Sir.S. I get to play with him and Peanut, but only if I am a good girl. I have been asked not to fuck anyone else in his absence, which is already proving to be a challenge, but I am determined to obey him. I may have to buy a sex-toy next pay day, though!

My training began on Saturday night, at a party with some people from Fet Life. Peanut came to pick me up and bring me to her house, where Sir. S was waiting. We talked and flirted in the car, then when we arrived she went and got ready and Sir. S and I had a chance to chat. We talked about hard limits, trigger words, where I am as a sub, open relationships, and the fact that we both dream of having big poly families someday.

He told me to get down on my knees and suck his cock, which I did. He had me lick up and down his shaft, and then try to deep throat. I gagged immediately but he continued to fuck my face, periodically asking me if I was okay. I murmured that I was. When Peanut came out, he asked her to show me how to deep throat. She gave me a few tips (which include sticking your tongue out just a little bit), then demonstrated effortlessly taking his sizable cock all the way down.

“Share my cock,” he said, so I got on my knees beside her and we both licked him. “Kiss her neck, Peanut.” She kissed my neck and exhaled into my ear, making me go weak as I continued to suck Sir.S. She grabbed me and kissed my lips while he stood over us, pulling my tits out of my skimpy dress and sucking my nipples. I wasn’t sure this would be okay, since he hadn’t instructed her to do this, but he seemed to enjoy it. I undid the halter on her one-piece cat suit and pinched and licked her nipples, grinding myself on her leg until I started moaning loudly. Sir. S asked if I was going to come, and I said yes. He told me to tell him when I came, so when I felt waves of pleasure rock my body I said “I’m gonna come!” I rubbed myself on her at an increasingly frantic pace until my orgasm subsided.

When I was finished, Peanut and I still sitting on the floor holding each other, Sir. S asked “Was that a real orgasm, or did you fake it?”

“I never fake it, Sir,” I said, smirking dirtily.

We all had a smoke, and then got into the car to drive to Sir. S’s place so he could get ready. Peanut and I waited in the backseat, holding hands and flirting, while he went up to his apartment and got dressed. He was back a few minutes later, dressed in a leather jacket and pants. Yum. On the drive there, we talked about the fact that he had never been with a Black woman before, and how it was one of his fantasies. I  have met a lot of men and women who share this fantasy–lucky for me!

“Well, we’ll have to do something about that,” I said lustfully.

We arrived at the party at about 8:30 (after a detour that involved getting lost and calling my Sir, who hadn’t left yet and said he might be making a late appearance at the party, for directions). We walked in together and Sir. S introduced me to those I hadn’t met yet as his “loaner sub.” I hugged and kissed people I recognized, and then we had something to eat before realizing we’d forgotten the wine in the car.

We told Sir and offered to go get it. Peanut and I held hands on the walk to the car, having girl-talk about all things sexy, then prepared to re-enter the house through the back yard. We opened the gate and Sir. S stood there with a small group, smoking. We chatted for a few minutes and then he said he was going inside.

“Okay, Sir,” we said in perfect unison. Everyone laughed. “You are such good girls,” he replied with a sexy smile, before retreating back into the house.

After another cigarette, we decided it was time to break into the wine. Peanut poured a glass for me, then one for myself, which I offered to Sir. S but he turned down. I think he wanted to remain sober in case he was called on to dominate anyone, because despite supplying the wine, he drank water all night. We mingled in the kitchen until Sir. S called us to follow him downstairs.

“Yes, Sir,” we said, and he led us down to the dungeon. In the entry area, there was a bookshelf stocked with first aid supplies–bandages, rubbing alcohol, swabs, etc. It was clear the hostess was hardcore. There were two rooms off the foyer–one was a bedroom with dim lighting, ropes, and a large bed with red silk bedspread and sheets.

The next, larger room had a brick bar, two walls of flogging tools, and a spanking bench. Peanut and I sat on it and cuddled, until Sir.S. told us to roll over. We obeyed, presenting our backsides to him, and he began to spank us with the flat of his hand. He hiked my dress up so my backside was bare as his palm connected with my skin, making it sting. It was seconds before we were both screaming erotically. Hearing the other’s arousal heightened each of our pleasure.

The dungeon had been empty, but it instantly seemed to fill. I heard someone say, “Now, why would you want music when you can listen to that?” I guess we sounded pretty hot!

The flogging seemed to go on forever. It was more than I was used to, but it pushed me to a point past pain, where I was flooded with adrenaline and endorphins. For the first time, I can honestly say, I am into pain. Not just the taboo of it, but everything. Sir. S spanked us harder and harder, and eventually I felt him roll Peanut over and heard his hand connect with what I assume was her face. I have no idea because I was face down, whimpering and gasping, until his boot collided with my ass, and then I felt him punch me.

When I had witnessed this before, at the party he’d hosted at Peanut’s, I thought it looked barbaric and couldn’t understand how she was getting off on it. Experiencing it, however, is something different. He knew exactly what he was doing–where to hit, how hard, and at what point, because at the moment I would have thought I’d have started to cry, I had an orgasm instead.

“Any tears yet?” he asked me.

“No, Sir.”

“Then maybe I haven’t been hitting you hard enough.”

“. . .I disagree, Sir.”

The room erupted into laughter.

After a few more minutes, he told us to sit up. He kissed Peanut, then me, and we were told to stand. I didn’t think I would be able to, but I managed. He wiped down the bench for us while we cuddled and kissed and stroked each other, half-watching a woman behind the bar who was having some sort of unseen sex toy bring her to orgasm.

Eventually we went back upstairs. I was struck by how hot my ass felt. It was burning. It was not unpleasant–it felt like  I’d been sitting on the heated seat of a car for an extended period of time. The rest of the party was spent eating, drinking, making friends, and ducking outside for smoke breaks. There was also a LOT of flirting.

Sir.S came up to me in the kitchen, pressed himself against me, and said filthy things to me until I was dripping.

“I can’t wait to be balls deep inside you.”

“I’m gonna teach you just how to take my big white cock.”

“I’m gonna have you on your back, wet and screaming.”

I hooked one leg around him and started to grind against him, needing him so very badly. Peanut made an appearance and he called her over, putting arm around her with his hand resting on her ass. Our eyes flitted back and forth between each other, communicating pure heat and lust, until we slowly started to exchange kisses, taking turns or kissing as three.

“You girls need to be fucked.”

(To Be Continued)

The Kink Party: Part 3

(Click to read The Kink Party, Parts 1 and 2)

Sir told me to go over against the cross and spread my arms and legs. I thought he was going to restrain me, but instead he pulled up the hem of my studded faux-leather mini dress, gave me a few quick spankings, and rubbed my pussy. I moaned each time his hand connected with my body, and he and Mr. S exchanged comments about how vocal I am and what a nice ass I have. After a few minutes we headed back upstairs, Mr. S letting me go first, then turning to Sir and remarking “That way we can both watch her walk up the stairs!” I laughed.

We hung out for awhile longer, just talking. Mr. S showed us a couple of sex toys and said they were clean if anyone wanted to use them. He also showed us a Hitachi Magic Wand attachment and turned it on so we could feel it in our hands. Yow! All us girls decided we needed it immediately, and I turned to Sir and said “I know what I want for Christmas!”

People had been slowly filtering in, and at this point there was yet another knock on the door. A tall pretty girl with long brown hair walked in, wearing thigh-high leather boots, a black skirt and leather bustier. It was clear she knew Sir somehow. It was slightly awkward watching them greet each other, and eventually Sir pulled me aside and told me she was the daughter of his good friend. I laughed out loud, then went over to meet her. I found her to be kind of stand-offish, but I don’t know if that’s just her personality or if she was just completely weirded out by seeing Sir there.

Eventually a group of us decided to go back to the dungeon. Sir told me he couldn’t bring himself to fuck me in front of a girl he’d known since she was a kid (can’t blame him there!), so he said I could play on my own. The seats filled up so people could watch as Mr. S put both his girls side-by-side on the bench. They were super hot bent over in their matching french maid outfits with their ass-cheeks exposed.

“I’m so turned on right now,” I told him.

“Are you bisexual?” he asked me.

I answered in the affirmative. He gestured to Peanut and said “Help yourself”. I rubbed her ass and slowly started to finger her, first with one finger, then with two. She started to moan.

“How does that feel?” Mr. S asked her.

“It feels like ecstasy, Sir,” she gasped. I smiled.

I occasionally threw in a spanking, though my tiny little spanks made it pretty obvious I am not a Domme! As her moaning got louder I got more and more turned on, and started rubbing and pinching her pierced nipples. Mr. S was alternating between spanking Peanut and Sweetheart, then eventually hiked up my dress, exposing my black lace panties, and spanked me too. Hot! 

Mr. S said he needed more hands, and asked for volunteers. A super sexy Domme in a black leather bustier and red skirt offered to take over paddling Sweetheart, who was just lying there, totally silent, taking it.

“You have to watch her,” he said. “She is so quiet that it’s hard to tell when she’s had enough. The other day I beat her until she passed out.”

As I was fingering Peanut and playing with her nipples, she turned around and kissed me on the mouth. I kissed her back, toying with her tongue ring, and slid underneath her until she was completely on top of me.

Mr. S told her to kiss my neck, and while she was doing that I bit her ear. Then he told her to lick my pussy. “She’s dying for it,” he said. She kissed her way down my body and started rubbing my clit with her tongue. I screamed and raked my nails down her back, over and over, which made her scream.

“Have you ever been with a woman before?” Sir S asked her.

“No, Sir.”

“How does her pussy taste?”

“It tastes amazing!

He regarded me. “How does it feel knowing you’re the first pussy she’s ever had?”

I moaned and said “Ugh, that is so hot.”

Then we switched positions and I licked her swollen throbbing pussy, and listened to her screams while Mr. S fingered me.

“Isn’t her pussy beautiful?,” he asked the audience, turning me slightly and spreading my legs. “It’s so pink.”

I finished up with Peanut, pulled my dress back down over my ass, and watched while Mr. S drove her out of her mind by spanking her with his flat hand. I was still close enough that she squirted all over me with the first set of spankings.

“Have you ever been squirted on before?”

“No. God, that’s sexy.”

With every third or fourth strike she would squirt all over the floor. After several rounds of this (and Good little Sweetheart still laying there silently being whipped by the Domme), he told her to lick up her cum. She got on all fours and licked it off the dirty floor, and then Mr. S wiped off her face before excusing her.

“You little whore,” said Sir, pulling me against him and into a kiss. I smiled naughtily. I had almost forgotten he was there. “Go help her get cleaned up.”

I followed her up the stairs, and one of the men came up with me telling me how hot that had been. I smiled, then went and wiped down Peanut.

Later, I sat with her on the porch in the freezing cold, and we talked. Apparently she had always thought she might be bisexual, but she’d never actually been with a woman until that night. We threw compliments back and forth, telling each other how gorgeous we thought the other was, and before I left we exchanged numbers.

We’ve heard from her twice already. An intimate play party is in the works. Stay tuned.

Hedonist Heaven

I had my first real date with Sir, last night.

It was fun. He picked me up and made me use a vibrator on myself in the car, and then pulled off the highway halfway to the poly event. He told me to go into Starbucks, head to the bathroom, and wait for him. A few minutes later he joined me, bent me over against the wall, and fucked me from behind. Rawr. I had to be quiet, which is nearly impossible for me, and he wound up covering my mouth. Then he handed me a ten and sent me to go order him a coffee. Ha. I got sex, AND a free caramel apple spice. A pretty good start to the night in my books!

We got back into the car and drove the rest of the way to the pub in the city, where we ordered drinks and then asked the bartender where our group was located. She started us a tab and pointed us towards the back, where we were welcomed warmly and introduced to everyone.

It was comfortable and casual. We talked about relationships and sex and poly and swinging and kink, with complete openness. It was such a relief to be around people who think like me, who are not afraid to be totally out there, who do not gasp and clutch their pearls at the mere hint of deviance. So refreshing.

We hung out for a few hours, and when we could no longer keep our hands off each other (at one point Sir positioned his hand on my seat perfectly when I returned from the bar, so as to discreetly slide his finger inside me as I sat down), we hugged everyone good-bye and walked towards the car. When we got to the not-completely-empty parking lot, he opened my door for me and fingered me behind it. It was dark, and we were in no one’s direct line of vision, but I am loud. It was hot.

On the drive back I was instructed to use the vibrator on myself, and I came so hard that when I got out to enter his house, I noticed my skirt was soaked through at the back. We fucked on the bench at the foot of the bed. We fucked standing up with him behind, and me bent over at the waist, bracing myself against the floor. We fucked in his enormous, four-poster bed. I screamed and cursed as he rammed into me, filling me with his hugeness.

We both could have fallen asleep after all that, totally exhausted from the build-up and then release, but I do not live there, so he took me home.


I miss him. This bothered me, and when I tried to figure out why I miss someone I do not know that well and don’t spend that much time with, I came to the conclusion that I miss what he does for me.

I miss being able to be who I am, without apology. I miss just being out and having kinky, dirty fun. Being irresponsible and brazen and wild. Having nothing I am responsible for. Not caring.

I am a hedonist at heart. I want to soak as much pleasure out of life as I possibly can. Heaven, for me, would be cavorting on a nude beach, cooking over a fire, partying, fucking, just being, without any of the crap that comes with real life. But of course, unless one is independently wealthy and has zero meaningful relationships, it is impossible to live this way. People, by very nature of being people, will complicate things. They will cause pain. I know that so well. I have even suffered at Sir’s hands, haven’t I?

So, I will continue to do what I need to do and be who I am depended upon to be–with my family and in the professional sphere. But there is no way I am giving up my little slice of heaven.


A few days ago, I saw him again. I will need to come up with a name for him besides D.F.–and I will elaborate on why another time.

Before our last encounter, he told me I was going to finger myself as he drove us to his place. So, despite the fact that it was FREEZING out, I wore a short skirt, bustier tank top and heels (and a cashmere sweater–I didn’t want to get hypothermia). We were driving for about a minute before he told me to start playing with myself. As I opened my legs and started to finger my pussy, he grabbed one leg and slung it over the compartment between the two seats, so I was totally exposed.

“I would finger you,” he said, “but I need to keep my eyes on the road.”

By the time we hit the highway though, that plan had gone out the window. I moaned and touched myself until he was driven so crazy that he unzipped his pants. I ran my hand up and down his shaft, jacking him off while he rubbed my pussy. I got wetter and wetter as he played with my clit, sitting there with my legs spread wide open, squirming and gasping.

“Your house is too far away,” I moaned, desperate to have him inside me.

“No, it’s not far enough,” he smirked. He enjoyed torturing me.

When we got to his house, he told me to keep on my silver heels, then backed me against an armchair in his living room. “You’re not sitting,” he said. He told me to squat.

I bent my knees and plied as close to ground as I could get (which was pretty far–I do yoga!).

He released his cock, and shoved it in my mouth. “Finger yourself,” he told me.

I sucked him and slid my fingers into my pussy, sighing with pleasure. Apparently I wasn’t enthusiastic enough for him though, because minutes later he bent me back over the chair, so I was in almost a bridge position, and fucked me with his fingers until I was screaming and moaning. He tossed me back onto the ground.

That’s how you finger,” he spat.

Pushing his cock back into my mouth, he commanded me to get myself off. I pushed three fingers inside my hot, throbbing cunt, until I gushed.

“Good,” he said, then immediately ordered me to get up. I did as I was told, but asked permission to take off my sweater. He said yes, then led me across the room and bent me over the arm of the couch. I smiled.

He entered me from behind, and I was screaming on the first thrust. We fucked like that until he turned me over, put my heels over his shoulders, and drove into me with such intensity that I started to whimper. I came countless times like that, and then he pulled out and took off the condom.

He rubbed the length of his shaft up and down my slit. Said, “you love that raw cock, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I gasped. I felt intoxicated.

“Do you want it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do. You. Want. It?”


He slid his bare cock inside me.

There is simply nothing in the world like being penetrated by a condom-less man. I moaned loudly, as he slowly fucked me, letting me feel everything. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I wrapped my legs around his waist, squeezing him as I came and came.

When he was about to come, he pulled out, and his hot liquid spurted all over me. I sighed and collapsed, finally satisfied.

He looked into my eyes. “We are too intense.”

He’s right.

Both of Us

I met Daddy at our usual hotel. He told me to get on the bed, and then laughed that I was wearing far too many clothes.

“Get naked,” he said. I stripped.

He threw my clothes on the other bed and told me to touch myself. I started to slowly finger my pussy. Daddy spread my legs further apart to give himself a better view.

“All over,” he commanded. I moved my fingers up and rubbed my clit.


I rubbed myself harder, moaning, and so turned on by being watched.

“Yes, that’s what Daddy likes to hear. Are you close, baby?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Come  for Daddy.”

An orgasm spread through my body as I moved my fingers over my clit, gasping.

Daddy grabbed me and started fucking me missionary style, then put my legs over his shoulders, screwing me deep, until I was frantic.

When he came with a growl, I came with him.

We cuddled and caught our breath, and then he grabbed his Magic Wand. He teased me by rubbing it over my tits before sliding it down to my cunt. I was instantly screaming.  Jolts of electricity shot through me until I was begging for permission to come. I squirted like a hose, soaking the bed. Daddy rolled me over to where it was dry, then grabbed a towel to put on the bed.  Within minutes the towel was soaked through–I came that hard.

He told me to move to the end of the bed, then entered me from behind. I screamed as he hit my gspot, over and over, and then asked if I could come again. I clawed the sheets as I let go, rocked by yet another orgasm.

Daddy told me I was a good girl, before commanding me to ride him. I got on top of him, cowgirl style, as he talked dirty to me.

“Yes, fuck me hard. Fuck your Daddy. Fuck me, my beautiful whore.”

Yes, Sir.

I rode him until he came, and then we lay there all tangled together.

“You’re wonderful, you know that?” He said.

I smirked. “No.”

Then he went to take his sister to the cardiologist, and I left to pick my son up from school.

Double lives, both of us.