Happy Anniversary ... part 2!

So, picking off where I left off in part one…

The hot tub was amazing. Seriously. We need one. We have a Jacuzzi tub, but if it were big enough for both of us it would be like…perfect. We melted and giggled together, and generally just had fun. (Even if it was a little hot for him…on the plus side, his adorable wincing as he got in lead to a plethora of “hot cock” jokes.)

Of course, I was far from satiated, and it wasn’t long before I was touching him. Stroking his cock, massaging his balls (and finding out I’m not coordinated enough for an underwater blowjob, but hey, I get points for trying, right?). And since it was now on my mind…fingering his asshole.

Just a little.

Maybe more than a little. Just teasing him about him getting fucked, which earned a lot of amused smirks. But mostly just having fun touching him where he usually won’t let me.

When we got out of the hot tub, we lounged on the bed for a while, touching and just being with each other. It was nice.

Luckily for me, niceness gave way when he made me close my eyes and put me over his lap. I was eager. I wanted intensity, wanted the impact and the pain. I wanted it to be the hardest he’d ever beaten me, wanted to feel it for days. Unlike other times when I tried to wriggle out or wuss out for whatever reason, I wanted it, badly.

Alternating between his hand and the wooden spoon, he spanked and smacked me for a long time. Though I yelped now and then when he’d smack my thighs or calves, for the most part I did little more than moan. I think my silence disappointed him because he reminded me a few times that we were in a private enough place that it was okay to scream, but I was in the best place…sometimes it didn’t even seem to hurt, just sharply hot. I have no idea how long it went on but by the end I was writhing on his lap. His hand felt so hot…and the spoon made the loudest sounds. The languid feeling was back, and if I could have talked I would have asked for more, harder, don’t be done – but I was far, far beyond speech. I just felt –hot-, physically heated. All I knew was I wanted more, I was far from what I could take. I wanted to be pushed to safeword, hit harder.

And then he told me the warm up was over, and he took out the otk delrin cane (the rattan one didn’t fit in our luggage bag!). Fuck, even warmed up I have no tolerance for the cane apparently. Which means, of course, he loves it. I seriously think he could have spanked me and beat me with the spoon forever, but I felt like I couldn’t even take a minute of the cane.

In the end, I have no idea how long the caning lasted – not long, I think. I was yelping with almost every stroke, unable to ride the pain the way I had with the spanking. He got an actual scream when he landed a stroke across my calf. Ouch! When he roughly spread my legs and forced his fingers inside me, he laughed.

As much as it hurt, I had given myself away…I was dripping wet. I hadn’t even realized I was wet, much less how wet I was..my face was red as he taunted me because I could –hear- how wet I was, hear the sound that wet flesh makes as it parts.

Still amused, he lay down and told me to fuck him – but instead of facing towards him, he had me face away. Which way I was facing didn’t affect me as he still made me keep my eyes closed, but this was different – he told me afterwards we’d had sex in that position before but I didn’t and don’t remember. I know that I was able to get myself off (then again – what doesn’t get me off?) but I had no idea how to move in that position to get him off. I don’t know if I would have figured it out if given a chance – almost immediately he took control, dictating with his hands on my hips the pace and depth.

It felt amazing for me, and at the same time embarrassing – my pussy made this wet sucking sound every time moved my hips upwards, and squelching again when I went downwards.

When he came, we lay next to each other and I was laughing at myself. As much as I usually accept that this gets me off, there’s always been a part of my head that said “No, pain doesn’t turn me on – this is a game! Just a game!”

…I don’t think I can keep telling myself that any more.

We lay in bed for a while, cuddling and recovering.  Not too long though - he startled me by opening my mouth. His fingers in my mouth made me feel surprisingly vulnerable, and he seemed to be…looking? It felt strange and humbling to be examined. I tried to ask what he was doing, but he just nodded and told me he had decided to put my mouth back to work.

…and again, it wasn’t his cock, to my chagrin. –pantgroanpant-

I think, most times, it would be unusual for him to make me lick his asshole again…but he knew how embarrassed and reluctant I was. While he definitely derived physical pleasure from my tongue…I knew he was making me do it solely because he knew I hated it. And so it amused him as well as felt good. Which turned me on (and damn it, I’m squirming now too!).

This next part makes me uncomfortable to write because it is still, days later, wreaking an emotional storm internally. We had talked about so-called golden showers (I still can't figure out what to call this - golden showers sounds...fun and naughty, but this was just humiliation for me..) before, when we talked about limits and what turned him on and willingness and all that jazz. I knew it would be humiliating. I knew it was one of those things that I would “want” in the terms of wanting to be humiliated, wanting to be pushed lower, wanting to be shown who was in charge and who had no choice in the matter…I guess I can’t really explain it, not to my own satisfaction at least. Intellectually – do not want. Do not want. Do not want.

Should I say it again? Do not want.

But…the part of me that craves to be totally dominated…if I listen to that part…this seems so base, a way of both putting me at absolutely the bottom rung of authority and being marked like territory..And I knew it turned him on. He liked it in porn, he read erotic with it, and he told me flat out he was interested in it.

He told me to shut my eyes and led me off the bed to the bathroom. I stumbled, not sure where we were heading at first.

To be honest when I figured out he was putting me in the shower, I groaned inside my head. He had told me over and over he was interested in cold showers as a punishment and humiliation, and he hadn’t yet followed up on that. A day I was not allowed to wear clothes seemed to be the perfect day for that.

I thought that as he had me kneel in the shower. I thought that as I heard him adjusting towels just outside the shower.

I thought that until he used his thumb to put pressure on my chin, forcing my mouth open.

And suddenly, I knew, and I was utterly terrified. Literally afraid, and I whispered to him that I was scared. He stroked my cheek, but didn’t say a word. There was no out.

I can’t explain the fear. I didn’t think it would hurt me. But my heart was racing and I was suddenly cold…afraid of being pushed that low, I guess?

I was so tangibly afraid I honestly thought he would change his mind, but needless to say, he didn’t.

Even though I knew it was coming, the moment it hit me – hit my mouth – was an overwhelming shock. I think I smelled it before it touched me, and the smell was overwhelming when coupled with the psychological aspect. I tried to let it dribble out of my mouth, but it came so fast that I ended up trying to push it out with my tongue, and when I still couldn’t keep up I turned my head.

He followed me, made me open my mouth again. It covered my face, stopped me from breathing without spluttering for a few moments. It ran down my neck, over my breasts. It was in my hair, the smell was in my nose. 

And when it was finally over, I was in the strangest headspace. Totally utterly humiliated in a way I never have been before. I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t speak.

But when he forcefully pulled me up and pressed me against the shower wall to fuck me, the orgasm ripped out of me in a way that would have shocked me if I was me at that moment. I didn’t feel it coming (uh…forgive the pun – it’s not intentional). In some ways I didn’t feel connected to it at all. I know he fucked me hard, hard enough to make my cheek sore from banging into the shower wall.

When he came, he patted my butt and told me to clean up, I had 5 minutes.

I showered quickly, brushed my teeth and used mouthwash. The smell seemed to cling to me, the taste in my mouth, but I think that was more my imagination than anything else.

When I came out, we spent more time hot-tubbing. I still had a hard time meeting his eyes…not because he told me not to or because I was upset with him, but because I was in a weird place where it didn’t feel like I –should- and I can’t explain it any more than that. He coaxed me out of it and told me I was acting oddly – I tried to explain what was going on in my head but I didn’t really understand it, so I doubt I explained it well.

After that, he fussed around a little with me, made me tea as we spent about an hour and a half in the hot tub, transforming into melty puddles of well fucked people.

When we got out, I lay on the bed while he relaxed on the massaging chair (which he insists we need one for home…haha)…eventually, he gave me permission to suck him, finally. I did so gently, but between the injury from a few days before and the workout he’d given my tongue earlier I knew I wasn’t going to give him what he wanted. Instead I begged him to make love to me. (In the back of my head, it wasn’t far from my mind that he might re-institute the vaginal sex ban…)

For the most part our lovemaking was gentle and sweet – although he did make a point of shoving me on the bed before I was ready to climb on, just to prove that even if this was my idea he was still in control.

Happily, he hasn’t outright banned vaginal sex so far. Although we haven’t had it since then…it’s not on total ban.

I can live with that.

It was a happy anniversary.