My Dirty Little BDSM StoryMy Dirty Little BDSM Story 8
A happily married homemaker from the Midwest.
I’m a complete and utter control freak. I have a hard time dealing with things not being “exactly so.” That is my method of dealing with stress. I conceal myself by exerting complete control over all elements of my life and home.
But what about in the bedroom? I am a full and total submissive.
A lot of individuals are perplexed by the psychology that motivates the urge to give up control. For a long time, I was perplexed by it, as was everyone else. I was certain that I was a freak or that I had a mental health problem. I’ve realized that everything is alright with me.
Consider this: what would be the greatest source of enjoyment and relaxation for someone who is driven by a compulsive urge to exert control over every area of their lives? Giving up control over the situation. Sex is just for the sake of pleasure. Consequently, the most attractive thing in the world to the control freak in me is to have all of my power stripped away from me, provided that this occurs in a safe and consenting context, of course!
My first encounter with BDSM occurred while I was in my twenties, when I was living with a ‘friend with benefits.’ He was authoritative, confident, and incredibly attractive all at the same time. The look on his face when I informed him that I was into submission might have fooled you into thinking I had just let him free in a candy shop. He had a natural tendency to be the alpha male.
When I think back on our meetings, certain details stand out in my mind…
He had two of his fingers jammed deep into my aching pussy as I was lying on the golf course of our country club at night. “I can hear him speaking into my ear with clenched teeth,” he says “His is mine, and mine alone! “I’m going to torment you for hours and only let you come when I’m good and fucking ready,” says the author “
In the backseat of my car, there was a sixty-nine. I couldn’t even get his cock in my mouth without yelling. He was a colossal figure. Porn star-sized, to be precise. He also knows how to use his tongue effectively. This was something he used to do where he would push his tongue deep into me and then use his nose to bump my clitoris. Bending over the hood of my car and smacking my ass, then turning around and shoving three fingers into my wet pussy is a favorite of mine. I exhaled and informed him that three was too much. He reacted by saying, “It isn’t, and it never will be.
You’re welcome to it. This isn’t about your enjoyment; it’s about mine, and you’ll follow my instructions. Please don’t ever say ‘no’ to me again.” I’d never felt so energized in my life before.
It was the very first time we had sexual contact. It happened the night after I was raped on a date. As a result, I went to him and told him about it because I knew he was a man in whom I could place my trust. “I will never force you to do anything that you do not want to,” he stated as I raised my chin to his and looked him in the eyes. I sobbed and kissed him on the cheek. Then I smacked him in the face.
He reprimanded me for not yet understanding how to deep throat, which was a talent I would learn later in life. When I climbed to the top of him to ride him, I had an experience like no other I’d had before. He was so massive that the sensation he gave me was a strange combination of pain and pleasure. It was very incredible.
We had some very fun and sensual moments together, but we were a disaster as a relationship.
My amazing hubby is the only guy who has ever had the ability to turn me on even more! The only guy who has ever found my g-spot and the only man who has ever given me an orgasm are the same person.
Everything about us was driven by a strange, primordial desire. It’s almost as if our bodies were designed just for one other.
We have excellent communication skills, which is the most vital aspect of maintaining any form of successful partnership.
The use of blindfolds, handcuffs and paddles has been gradually introduced to my hubby, much to my delight. He has said that he would never talk degradingly to me or cause me serious emotional harm. That’s something I have to respect. In any case, I don’t want to be referred to as a slut. I adore filthy tiny sex kittens above anything else.
My dirty little BDSM story 8
A writer by trade and an administrative assistant by profession; I also competed in semi-professional bike racing for a few years, but it didn’t help me pay the rent or put food on the table.
I was born in 1981, and I really began exploring my sexuality in the late 1990s, when I lived in a conservative rural town with a lot of conservative values. A combination of the conservative and small-town aspects meant that there were high expectations of premarital chastity and heterosexuality, but the small-town aspect meant that there was a lot of sex occurring, most of it casual.
I was well aware that that wasn’t a good idea. Despite the fact that Miranda was straight, she didn’t care for me in the slightest. In spite of this, I didn’t raise an eyebrow when she pointed at me and proclaimed to our pals that I’d be sleeping with her that night. I followed her up the stairs to her room, where I slid into her bed without saying anything.
Whether it was a bad idea or not, I wanted it. My bisexuality had been well-known to me for some years by the time I found myself in Miranda’s bed, and I’d made significant progress in the world of guys. Boys were a piece of cake. Girls, on the other hand, were difficult. Even though I’d taken part in some of my female friends’ sexual experimentation, it had never progressed beyond a simple kiss and a feel over their clothes.
You can typically tell when you’re attempting to garner some attention from straight females because they’ll brush your hand away.
By the time Miranda informed me that she would be bringing me into her bed that night, I had been longing for some girl time for quite some time. What was in the red cup that someone offered me flowed right down between my legs since I’d only had one drink before.
As the heat and booze seeped into my crotch, I couldn’t wait to go upstairs and into her bed. A few sloppy spinthe-bottle kisses helped, but I couldn’t wait to get back into her bed. As well as her pants.
Miranda was someone I hadn’t paid much attention to before that night. But as I got my hands on her, I discovered just how much I adored her figure. Her form, which was lean and slender with an androgynous streak, stood in sharp contrast to my rounder features.
Her breasts are compact at the top of her chest, and her skin is taut across her hipbones. I kissed her while covering one of her breasts with my hand, then bent down and sucked her nipple into my mouth with my teeth. As I made little circles with the tip of my tongue on her flesh, goosebumps sprang all over her body.
Moving my hand down and sliding my fingers inside her waistline was a bit of a risk for me.
I took a breath to see how she would respond. So far, so good; I pushed in even more, stroking her pubic hair with my fingertips. The Brazilian had not yet gained popularity, and her bush was overgrown and overgrown. Luxurious. She tightened as my fingers went over her clitoral region, then relaxed as I applied a few mild strokes to her clitoral region. I opened her up and inserted one of my fingers inside her body.
She felt suffocatingly warm on the inside. Soft, thick, and sticky in texture.
It was I who pulled her trousers down and placed them at the foot of the bed. My first few licks were timid and tiny. I’d like to think I was playing a joke on her and creating tension, but the truth is that I had no idea what I was doing since I’d never done it before on a woman.
I needed to take it easy at first. I was taken aback by how drastically different our pussies seemed. Miranda had small labia that spread out far in the centre, forming a pink half-moon, while mine were thick all the way down their length and a dusty purple color, and I had mine done in the same manner.
As my ambition overtook my lack of experience, I became bolder and more energetic as a result. I used my tongue to trace her whole pussy, experimenting with various textures. Her skin was wet, her hair was sticky, and her clitus was a firm tiny lump. I inserted my tongue into her mouth and detected the flavors of beef and salt. Miranda left a coating on my tongue.
She moved under me, and I really wanted to coerce her into coming. In addition to my fingers and my lips, I kissed her as I came up for air so she could have a sense of how she was tasting.
I returned to her breasts and began to breathe on them, causing her nipples to stand up and her gooseflesh to return. It was fascinating to see her body react to my presence.
The combination of the alcoholic beverages I’d consumed and the unfamiliarity of the postures – which were so different from being with a guy – caused my head to spin. Having kissed and rubbed my way up her body, I rested my head on my pillow for a few moments, one hand still massaging her breasts.
Miranda slid her hand between my legs and started stroking my legs. Lightly and slowly at first, then a bit more quickly. It didn’t take long, maybe a minute or two, until I arrived. Grasping her hand between my legs and swaying my hips back and forth with every single spasm was a struggle.
Last thing I remember thinking about was how I wanted to make her experience what I’d just felt, how I wanted her to come running and scream out. Afterwards, I slept off like a young lad who has just lost his virginity.
When I awoke, it was far later than I had anticipated. Miranda was nowhere to be seen, and I was curled up in a ball on the other side of the bed.
