I am aware that I still have a blog. Honest. I know I may not have updated for over two weeks, but things are going well.
I have eased up a little with work and have more free time. Quite a bit at the moment, in fact you could even call it a holiday.
It’s that time of year again where sales of Agent Provocateur have been luring me to depart from my hard earned pennies, but luckily not too many pennies. So I bought a new suspender belt and some ribbon-tie knickers. I used to love these when we were first going out, the thrill as he quickly unlaced and tore them away from me, but I wore them so much, the ribbons broke. Even after sewing them back on, they broke again. They were inexpensive, after all. So now I have some gorgeous fancy pants with stronger ribbons and an even prettier suspender belt. I do lust after material things once in a while and not simply the physical (often in the form of DVDs and books most of the time).
In other news, we’ve had a bit of a lull in the kink department lately, focusing our play on not using any toys, kinky aids and the like. It’s been refreshing just to have each other to rely on, our own tools we are equipped with – namely hands, tongues and nails. Mister’s very fond of using his fingers to drive me to the edge of what pleasure I can take under his hand often to the point that he transforms me into a quivering, almost hyperventilating ragdoll. Which is damn fine.
But it has come to the moment when I start to crave something a little more darker, I want the toys to return. I want to play.
I want him to shackle me up against the door once more. I want to feel soft cuffs restricting me harshly, hands above my head, vulnerable. I want him to saunter up to me, stop centimetres away from my face, place a hand either side of my head on the door and stare deeply into my eyes. I want him to kiss me hard and slowly, to have his teeth take warning nips at my lips, one hand moving behind my head to hold a chunk of hair, grip tightly and pull. I want him to move his other hand down across my cheek, neck, trailing a solitary finger downwards, between my breasts, tracing underneath each one, that tender spot beneath. I want him to make me catch my breath.
I need him to blindfold me so that I can have my senses heightened. I need to hear his every move, the sound of his own breath becoming harder as he concentrates on his actions. I need to feel the lightest of touches he places on my skin, tingling from that central point of contact throughout my body. I need him to feel, too, how excited all this makes me, how my own breath changes, temperature rises. I need him to place his hands between my legs and have his fingers coated in my wetness. I need him to want me so badly that his handling of me becomes rough and impulsive.
I will crave for him to swivel me around without warning, my cheek pressed against the cool wood of the door. I will crave his nails raking down my back, starting lightly at the top before gather speed and force on their way down. I will crave for his hand to spank me, beginning with a surprisingly swift, unwarned and jolting thwack on my ass. I will crave for him to call me the names, his lips close to my ear so he traces the words against my skin, in a low voice and almost-growl. I will crave the tasselled whip. Crave its sharp pain it delivers on my behind, on my shoulders and the backs of my thighs, making me gasp each and every time. I may even crave that I hear the sound of his belt loosening from his waist, crave the sound of hearing it being tested against his palm, crave that threat of whether he will use it or not. Most of all, I will crave him.
I will beg for him. Beg for more, more spankings, harder welts with the whip. Beg him to touch me on my pussy when he teases with light, fleeting strokes. I will beg him for less when he drives me too far. Beg him to stop and allow me to catch my breath. I will beg for his cock, tell him I want him so badly, right now. Beg him to hoist my legs around his waist, both of us using the door as leverage and for support, I holding onto the restraints. I will beg him to fuck me.
Above all, I know that he will. I know that he will do all these things to me, that he will want to do these things, he too will crave. I know that he will because he loves it, and he loves me.
And I know that is the greatest turn on of all for me.