Wow, has it really been two weeks since I last posted?
I guess it has. My mind (and body) have been super busy. New toys (scary long whippy cane! Ouch-inspiring black leather flogger!) have been part of it, but more than new toys…
He knew I was upset after the orgasm control week was up. He sort of got why. And I understood his response back, even if I couldn’t control my emotional response to it.
But what I didn’t expect was his next suggestion. When he thought about his response to the week, he told me why he didn’t think it had worked for him.
…not enough control. Too piece-meal.
Piece-meal wasn’t right for him. He wanted…all of it. All of me.
I sort of panicked, I’ll admit. Go from nothing to…all of it? It seemed like a huge leap to make. And yet, I didn’t really know what he meant either. He grinned and pointed out that we would find out together, but for a week, I would belong to him…my body was his. (He made clear I still had my safeword, if I needed it, however.)
So I agreed…Saturday to Saturday. His. Nervous, excited, and wet, I agreed.
The first day, he took my ass twice. I usually had a piece of ginger pressed to my clit because he enjoyed watching me squirm as it stung and burned. (To my frustration, orgasm control was back too – coming was only with his permission. Frustration isn’t really the right word but meh, I like orgasm!) The first time he took me, it was morning.
That evening, long after our daughter in bed, he had me kneel, nude, ass in the air. I braced myself, thinking my ass was in for it again…but instead, I felt him rubbing oil into my cunt. I remember the confusion and the excitement – (confusion: I don’t need lube…I’m wet! Excitement: it’s not my ass, and I’m getting fucked!).
When a third finger joined his first two inside me, I noticed…but didn’t really think of it. My whole body felt hot, my skin felt tight. I begged to come and was denied.
When the fourth finger entered me, vague tendrils of alarm penetrated my brain as I realized what he wanted.
Fuck, I hate fisting. It hurts. (I get off on it…I –am- a masochist…but it hurts.) It’s overwhelmingly intense. I worry about being too stretched out to get him off. (I do lots of kegels, so is this a reasonable fear? I don’t know.) I worry it makes my cunt look funny. (Yes, I do. I know. I’m weird.)
But it turns him on, a lot, and I’ve known this from the few times we’ve done this before. Something about being stretched out around him and how it pushes me beyond what I think I can take…when I protested, he reminded me that I was his and no was out of the question. (I hate fisting, but the exchange gets me hot here thinking about it!)
The feeling of his entire hand finally slipping inside me is indescribable. It’s so distinct…there’s no doubt when you’ve gone from “too many fingers!” to “ohmygosh THAT’S A FUCKING HAND INSIDE ME!” There’s a forceful aspect to the sensation, when he finally gets past the ring of muscle resisting him…it’s a sort of owfuckomgwowmmmmmow type sensation. Sort of.
As the intensity of his hand moving inside me finally, with permission, pushed me off a cliff despite the pleasurepain, I screamed when he took his hand out. It hurt but it was more the absence of sensation that …hurt? To go from overstimulation to him leaving left me feeling shaky and woozy. I was out of it but coherent enough to realize that his cock was now pressing against my asshole…that made twice in one day.
The second day, when we woke up, he took my ass again.
For anyone keeping count at home (and I know I am), that made three rounds of anal sex in two days. That was more than our previous record where we once had anal two days in a row. My ass felt well used, sore.
That night, I begged him to fuck me and said he’d taken my ass several times.
He responded by telling me to bend over because he was going to fuck my ass again. Which despite my protests that that wasn’t what I meant – because as he reminded me, my ass was HIS – he proceeded to do, forcefully.
I don’t remember when, but he began idly threatening me with anal fisting, and the entire week, that was never far from my mind. Vaginal fisting is SO intense, but I know his hand fits there. I’m not totally convinced his whole hand is getting up my ass, and I worry even more about that.
But the idea of it – with no touching – just the idea – gets him hard. I won my only concession – I would have enough warning to do an enema first.
On the third day, he took my ass again. I was sore enough to gasp as he entered me. That made 5 times in three days.
On the fourth day, we made it to six times in four days. And then seven times in five. Eight times in six. I finally found out…this was punishment for complaining about lack of vaginal sex. That wasn’t my decision to make, so to punish me, there is no vaginal sex right now. When he wants to fuck me, it’s my asshole he’s going to fuck.
And goddamnit, that’s brilliant. It sucks (not the anal, although as I’ve explained before there’s a love/hate there) but it’s brilliant. And dastardly. Punishing me for complaining about lack of sex with sex that he likes more than I do. It’s brilliant and it sucks, and it’s erotic as all hell. –fans herself- And if I complain more about lack of vaginal sex I get my ass fucked more. –seals her lips-
(Our week was nearly up, but I got sick. We decided to extend it two weeks. (See, there was a reason it’s been two weeks since I posted!) I don’t know what I had, but it involved body aches, fever, and stomach maladies. Babygirl got sick too, and it was rough. Because we didn’t get a full week, we decided to extend it a week. I’ll write about week two shortly…)
No comments:
Post a Comment