Archive for March, 2009

“I cannot think of a poem to recite. Please, please, please may I come?”

He thrust his fist into me further, as my plaintive mew unfurled weakly into the dusky half-light of the evening.


“Rotten, mean, evil sodding cat!”

“Why, thank you!”

This was on the verge of the eighth orgasm of the session.

Number eight followed hard on the heels of the three previous caterwaul-inducing, knee-tremblers — all of which were great, although the one immediately prior to those three was the one which caused a tsunami-like effect on what Purrrrrvert had originally referred to as “your rainforest of a cunt”.

He had a point. After all, it was hot and very wet.

And every single fucking one of those orgasms was earned. Seriously. He started light: ten words for cat. We progressed through the alphabet backwards and other mindfuckable evil missions, until he came up with the brilliantly cruel idea of reciting a poem backwards.

I flailed — physically and mentally.

“What happens if i don’t do it? I cannot think of a poem to recite.”

His eyes gleamed with an evil glint I’d not actually thought possible from such adorably blue and loving eyes.

“Then, my darling bratty pink tabby cunning linguist, you…. get…. punished.”


“Er…” (very tentatively) “What kind of punishment…?”

A turn of his head, and a small cough. (Incidental? Unclear.)

“You do not wish to know. I can assure you. Bratty is as bratty does, but bratty also pays a price.”

I gulped. And then it hit me. Bratty! Of course! Who else, but Lewis Carroll?

“Because he knows it teases
He only does it to annoy
And beat him when he sneezes
Speak roughly to your little boy”


Through my blindfold I could hear the pleasure in his voice as he benevolently gave me permission to come. I could also feel the enthusiasm in his fist as he sent me over the edge into another quilt-soaking paroxysm of ecstasy.

A few moments of warm relaxation, enfolded in his adoring embrace, jointly catching our breath, and admiring my bound, round breasts, protruding from their brisket perma-tie surrounds. And then the whole thing started again.

As you know, he has made requests of me to write for him in the past, and further drilled-down those requests by specifying the number of words in each piece. Apparently, we’d moved beyond the realm of request-by-remote.

“You want to come, kitty-cat?”

A mute moan, and a whimper as I focused my mind on random traffic junctions in order to take my mind off the fact that I was perilously close to climax, but was not yet permitted to let it rip through my body.

Purrrrrvert has but two rules for me — that I notify him when close to orgasm, and that I do not come without permission. Naturally, I obey them both, although sometimes it really is by the skin of my teeth.

“What must I do this time?” I asked as civilly as I could through gritted teeth.

“Write me a piece of… oo, let me see — twenty-five words.”



Which brought me to this.

“It’s twenty-eight words,” I confessed humbly.

He smiled — again benevolent.

“This time, I’ll let it slide. Call it poetic license.”

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You fasten a leather collar around my neck

And attach to it a leash

Yet I have never felt more owned

Than when your fist is inside me.

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Tomorrow I see him. I’m already wet with anticipation.

He bought a new toy for me.

My first ever personal collar.

I could just purr.

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Sugasm 161

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #162? Submit a link to your best post of the week by emailing me directly at radicalvixenatgmaildotcom Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks
The Balance of Power
“A wave of lust coursed through her body at his words”

“What’s this? Evidence of pleasure?”

Secret signals
“I will adore him for it”

Sugasm Editor
Not An Overnight

Editor’s Choice
The Ghost of Abuse

More Sugasm
Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

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There comes a time to reflect on where we’ve been and where we are. For me, right here right now… this is the time.

The time that has passed in calendar months is short, I freely confess, although it actually feels like years. I’ve known this chronological illusion only once before. It’s an indication of how real this feels, how significant it is. To me. To us.

We talked, you and I, about how we interact, how we relate — how we are with, and to, each other. How anyone else’s perception of “us” from the outside could never fully comprehend everything we share. It seemed to me that, in a way, what we have resembles the two self-relating areas of  Zaphod Beeblebrox’s brain, and I remarked on this to you. The analogy charmed you, and you implied that perhaps I was almost as much of an uber-Geek as you.


I would take this concept even further. What we have together is is self-existent, self-reliant. If people wish to look, let them look. It doesn’t matter what prying eyes surround us, or what they see or perceive. We are together, both separate and apart.

We have the faith and trust to exist and co-exist. There are others who make up the shape in which we live, and no one encroaches upon anyone else’s space. This affects us both, but does not preclude anything or anyone else.

My public declamations of the way you make me feel, my own self-exposition in fact; my literary nudity right here in my publicly-private space — by revealing so much, keeps even more for us to enjoy. The hidden nakedness that remains concealed is ours to share.

And we both know that you do not share your toyz.

I have taken stock. I’m so lucky. Some might even say blessed.

But most of all, I’m happier than I have been in the longest time.

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The sound of your voice provides me with incomparable happiness.

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Animagus (100 words)

Sex kitten was always a term i used to refer to myself in private — it was not an identity as such.

And then I met Purrrrrvert.  A man who self-defines as an evil feline.  A man who, when called “evil, rotten, mean cat!”, smiles and says “Why, thank you dear!”

So sweet.

It was natural then for me to search deep within my psyche and find all the manifestations of my sex-kittendom, and use them, don’t you think?

Yes, very.

So there you have it. Once — and yes, still — an Elegant Slut. But also the kitten of her Dom’s heart.

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