Whooops! I’ve Got Cum on My Shoe!

You know how it is when you’re laying in bed, that moment *just* before you drop off? You’re there between awake and asleep, and time slips and slides around in no particular order. There is no past/present/future, only *now*, and all things happen in this now.

Have I confounded you yet?

Stay with me on this…this is the time when I remember things. Now, you all know I’m not a sweet young thing any more. And there are some things that I just forget. And this is the time when they seem to “float up” to me.

That’s what happened last night as I was just in that place and time. I remembered.

Clearly.

One sentence from Master’s lips just hovered in my thoughts.

“Whoa…wait a minute there, slut. You have cum on your shoe.”

That memory made me wake up a little bit. When the fuck had He said that? Oh…oooh…right, when He was *here*. A few weeks ago. Now, I’m guessing most subs will relate to this, that in those blissed-out periods of subspace, things just happen and fade away. To remember every little thing right away just isn’t possible. We’re too overwhelmed. Passion, pain, excitement all combine to create a whirlpool of sensations that suck all memories into that vortex…and who knows when it will pop back out?

Four weeks.

That’s how long it’s been since we played.  How long it took for that little memory to work its way up to the fore of my brain.

I laid in my bed, now really thinking about this. What the heck was I doing that caused cum to leak from me onto my shoes? All I really remembered was spending time on my back, on my belly, and cumming.

A lot of cumming.

He was gentle on me as far as pain goes.  He had an accident the week prior and told me that He wouldn’t be at “full power” (yet there were still bruises afterwards…the Man pinches like a demon! Not to mention what He can do with mouth and teeth…!) But He did torture me with orgasms. It sounds like an oxymoron, doesn’t it? We beg for pleasure, then moan when there is too much of it. Quixotic creatures, we sluts.

And then I remembered.

At some point He tugged me off the bed, ordering me to my knees. At this point I had no idea which way was up. Totally blotto, blindfolded, awash in sensory overload. As I sucked His cock, as I gagged and moved about on the floor, at some point my feet were below my cunt. And I leaked.

On my *shoes*.

This is a major issue when your Dom has a shoe fetish. One must NOT soil the shoes!

cropped-cropped-img00042-20110501-164611.jpgThese shoes.

He slides the shoe off my foot and starts wiping it. I hear Him muttering about cum and suede and I’m starting to fret.

“There, got it all off,” He says.

“Master, should You perhaps check the other one?”

“Great idea,” He agrees, and takes the other one off.

“You know what else I need to check?” His voice is serious, but calm. I’m still blindfolded, but I feel Him settle on the bed by my legs.

“What Master.”

‘YOUR FEET!” He yells triumphantly, as He lays across my legs and begins tickling them! Totally, completely unexpected. A terrible torture. I go NUTS when He tickles me, giggling maniacally. He laughs and teases, sliding a single thumbnail from heel to toes (which drives me wild!), then rubs between each toe. For whatever reason, my left foot is more ticklish. Perhaps because it was my right ankle that I broke and it made my foot less tickly? Not sure, but for whatever reason, I was squirming, moaning, trying to get away. I laughed so hard I was crying, my sides aching, wrists bound to my thighs with the velcro cuffs, unable to tug on Him, unable to defend my poor tootsies. If you’ve never been tickle tortured, you cannot understand the sneaky meanness to it. You’re laughing, and being hyperstimulated. You’re laughing and yet you want to hit, claw, beg, moan, cry, scream to make it stop…oh…gawd…it’s too, too much. You’re laughing and yet–you think you might *kill* Him if He doesn’t fucking stop!!

And somehow, in that magical Dom way He has, He does stop. Stops just before I think I will die from the laughing, from the stimulation. I’m not sure what happened after that. I’m not totally clear on what came before. All I know for certain is that once more I swallowed His ‘bait’…hook, line, and sinker.

Tricked.

Again.

By cum, on my shoe. And a very clever, devious Master.

Header Toys HNT

Most of you may recall that wordwitch and her Dom, Wolf, sent me…or rather, my Master, a care package. The header picture shows them, ranked in order of my curiosity about them.

Master had me think about them, touch them, then arrange them in the order that made sense to me.

Right after dinner, I ran upstairs and got donned out in my slut outfit, and zipped back downstairs.  But before I zipped down, I laid out all the “goodie bag” stuff in the order of curiosity upon my bed. You read yesterday of the “warm up” spanking, while He watched football, and I got paddled.

I didn’t mention Him pulling me roughly to the floor, fingering me, and leaving me gasping on the edge of an orgasm, as He stepped away and laughed at my dishabille.

“you’re a mess, girl,” He says, shaking with laughter.

Why?

Why do they like to mess us up like that? *sigh*

Eventually He shuts off the tv and we go upstairs. He sees the bed and smiles. My room is very tiny, with slanted walls. Not much “swing space” so to speak.

I thank the Goddess for that.

He grabs me by my hair and orders me onto the bed. There’s been some tit pinching and some tit slapping, and ass pinching between things, but now He is all business.

And He’s dressed. His shoes are shiny. His pants are neatly pressed. His polo shirt is immaculate. He looks…like a man of business. It is a huge fucking turn on.

In point of fact, our evening together was mostly focused on pain. He finger fucked me, He used His double-insertion vibe on me, but He didn’t fuck me.

Didn’t have me suck His cock.

It was like a fantasy I’d read some time ago.

The Professional Dom. (Or somesuch like that.)

He took the first whip up into His hand. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Him checking it out. Running the falls through His fingers.  Telling me how nice it….

YEOWCH!!

was constructed. How soft the….

OMFG OOOOOOWWWWWW!!!

falls were. Aren’t they, nilla?

I can’t breathe. I guess I looked like a red-headed carp. My mouth opened and closed. And then? Then? The bloody bastard took up the next one. The only real difference?

He hit me three times with that one.

OMFG.

That was…dunno. He doesn’t play “gentle”. We’re rough and hard and i like it that way. There was no dancing caress of whips on my ass. Oh no, it was full-force Master.

Each thing made me gasp or whimper.

I tried to get to the last two before Him, but He’s quick. Long, long falls of rubber “thread”. The kind that wrap around your hip and leave a bunch of thin red marks that persist days later. Hard to say which one I hated more, that one, or the one with the fat “s” shaped falls.

Prob’ly the Ssssssss one…. that bit into my ass like a dragon’s teeth.

He passed the lot of them to me, told me to hold them. If one fell off the bed He’d use it until His arm got tired. I cuddled them close like they were my children and it was the end of the world. Seriously.

He play “tried” to take them from me from time to time, using the opportunity to pinch my tits, or tickle me. Fucking Dom!

And then there was the game. I had to figure out the answer or He would swat me with a toy. Of His choosing. He gave me many clues. Eventually I got it (ginger snaps)…but i thought it was unfair because…well, i HATE ginger. The smell of it, the taste of it. Ugh. Shudder. Ugh. I always have, too.  I remember making ginger snaps for my grandfather when I was in high school taking Home Ec. He adored them and it was all I could do to make them for him. Ugh.

Anyway, I got it just before the deadline. Or maybe He did hit me some after that…that’s about the time things got fuzzy.

And about the time He flipped me onto my back and started seriously fucking with my brain. And my pussy. Oh yeah. Pussy grabs, and intense finger fucking have a way of throwing me way out into sub space.

Way way out into subspace. And far, far away from those header toys.  Yes, those are safely tucked away until next time. When, He tells me, that we must continue our research.

“Don’t forget, nilla, I owe Wolf a report about your “fear order” …and we just didn’t have time to delve into that this time. So, yes, those toys will *definitely* come to our next playtime.”

And then He laughs, that deep Dom laugh.

Gee, thanks, Wolf.

Immobilized

Somewhen in the vast reaches of our time together, after multiple forced orgasms, after fucking, and biting, and beating…

He flips me over on my back. I grunt, I remember, because my shoulders were so sore from the beating, and the biting. My ass was throbbing dully, and my pussy, too, but to different beats. It was a discordant rhythm that my body was playing, all a blend of disharmony that somehow set up awesome harmonics within me.

He healed me, by beating me.

By fucking me.

By using me hard, and heavy.

Then He tugs me, on my back, across the bed, heedless of my small moanings. Tugged like I was a rag-doll…and you all know I’m no lightweight. My head flops off the bed; I feel the heat of his thighs on either side of me, the roughness of hairy legs. The push of His cock on my face, my lips.

He reaches down and takes my cuffed hands, and hooks them together behind His back.  Reaching down, He slapped my inner thigh until my legs opened, aiding in my balance.

He is wordless.

I am blindfolded.

He makes me figure out what He wants, by slapping my pussy. I lick His balls, laving them, lapping at them, making Him moan. If I please Him, He stops slapping my pussy, and starts playing with my tortured clit. It is so sensitized by now, that even a gentle rubbing makes me cum.

I moan against His ballsack, mumbling “no…no…no…”

Cumming is sweet torture…and becomes simply torture.

He moves His hips, and immobilized as I am, I can do nothing to stop Him. Nothing to stop His cock entering my mouth (not that I don’t want it. I do, I do!)

But at the same time, His fingers slip inside me and begin fingerfucking me roughly. I squirt nearly instantly…I feel the wet explosion, as I mumble NO around a mouthful of  cock, trying to get my mouth clear of it so that I can protest. I do, yet, with the position He has put me into, when I open my mouth to say anything there are His balls. I’m effectively gagged between His legs, His cock, His balls, as He stands there, getting sucked off, and torturing my pussy.

I come again.

And again.

And again.

And, yes, again.

The number of orgasms is uncountable. All this in silence. He says nothing to me, just plays with me. Pulling my nipples, slapping my tits, pinching my belly. Fucking my pussy.

Fucking my pussy.

Fucking my pussy.

He doesn’t cum in my mouth. He reaches up, and I feel His hands unclasping my wrists, then He steps back, tugs me up upon the bed.

Does He cuddle with me? I think so.

Seriously? I don’t remember that part yet. It will come back to me, or He’ll tell me about it.

And by the way?

I loved every fucking minute of it! The loss of breath from time to time, the banging of my head with His legs, the taste of Him, the objectification of Him plucking away at my body, as He did whatever the fuck He wanted to…all of it was a HUGE turn on.

oh. Did I forget to mention the anal beads?

Next time, my pervies, next time.