Rag Doll Slut
My body amazes me at times. How it goes from stiff and unyielding when vertical and in the real world, to soft, malleable and bendy when horizontal. There are areas of it that I haven’t seen in years, but that doesn’t bother me, especially when the Big Bad Cat reminds me of their existence by taunting the nerve endings that decorate each and every one of them.
He folds me into the strangest and most wonderful shapes when he fucks me. And each time I am impressed anew at how flexible I can be, when horizontal — it’s the vertical aspect of standing up that is so preventative, I think. Or the high heels I constantly wear. Or my perennial back problem.
Either way, all these melt into nothingness as he takes one of my legs and bends it — and me — over so that he can fuck me hard, one leg crossed over the other, the Ben-Wa balls still nestled deep within me. And they — those cheerful, bouncy little spheres, causing me to feel more full and making the whole event even more exciting — yet another thing I wanted for ages, eventually got, and praised to the skies, wondering how I’d managed to survive this long without them.
From his angle, he towered over me, holding one leg aloft, his other hand twisting my left nipple.
“God, I just LOVE fucking you!”
I smiled weakly and fucked him back as hard as I could — which, given the fact that I’d had at least one fountain-like gusher of an orgasm, with a couple of regular climaxes thrown in for good measure, was not terribly hard.
He always says that to me. Every time, without fail. He then continues to qualify that he loves everything about being with me, to watching me as I undress him, or bring him a drink, to feeling me come against his body, and even something so benign as lying still next to him.
And I always love to hear it afresh — each time it sends a frisson of delicious excitement and deepening of love right through me, from head to toe, via nipples, heart and cunt.
Blonde not stupid
It stung. I mean, it really fucking stung.
While some people are mark-freaks — they love to see the results of various spanking, beating, whipping or flogging activities, I’m more of a kind of “in the moment” kind of gal. Plus I do not relish the thought of explaining strange lines or bruises to my children.
Usually the Big Bad Feline respects that. In fact, he always respects that, it was just that this time he actually became angry with me for the first time. This was my first punishment.
We were in a roleplay situation, which had evolved from the fact that I was lying, as instructed, face down over the back of a chair, while Purrrrvert flogged me into deep and happy subspace.
For whatever reason, once we got into the swing of things, Purrrrvert became the stern schoolmaster of so many fantasies and roleplays before, and began quizzing me about something or other — I forget what. So happily floating in the sub-ether was I, that I paid scant attention to what I was saying — yes, very foolish of me, I know. (Isn’t hindsight just the perfect 20:20 bitch queen from hell?)
Suffice it to say that I said something nonsensical, and the Schoolmaster picked up on it, and queried me.
“How can it possibly be X if Y=Z?” he asked me.
“It can’t. Not at all. I’m very stupid.” I answered.
Next thing I know — I hear an almighty SWISH!, feel an unbelievable THWACK!, and involuntarily exclaim-cum-scream “OW! Ow, ow ow! Owwww! Holy FUUUUUUUUUUUCK!”
Knowing he’d really hurt me, and pushed me beyond the threshhold of “pain-I-enjoy” straight to “pain-I-could-quite-well-do-without-thank-you-very-much”, he called an immediate halt to the proceedings, and took me in his arms, holding me close until I stopped shaking. He then reached behind him for something and began to stroke where he’d hit my poor ass cheek with something cool and fragrant.
“It’s lavender. It will help it heal.”
I nodded, and sniffled into his chest.
He leaned over me, and kissed the top of my head, and then brought his mouth very close to the ear he’d nibbled on not infrequently, and whispered softly.
“You know what that was for, don’t you?”
I nodded. Purrrrvert loves all of me, including — especially, maybe — my brain and my intelligence. He also has zero tolerance of unnecessary, untrue or undeserved self-deprecation.
“Don’t you ever call yourself stupid again. Not even in character. Promise me?”
I nodded again, this time more fervently. The crisp red-white welt right underneath the curve of my butt cheek throbbed, and I winced slightly.
Punishment is very definitely something I wish to avoid in the future, believe you me.
Elegant Smut 