Fucking and Being Fucked

With a groan I slowly unfolded myself and sprawled flat on on my front, mashing my udders into the bed. I had been on my elbows and knees for a long intense fuck: my hair pulled hard so I would rise up and tense my muscles; my cunt rutted in forcefully, followed by shallow teasing and then more deep plundering. I was feeling aches in all sorts of places – most of them very good.

I wanted to make the most of the break I’d begged to have, so I rolled over to one side, propped myself up on an elbow, and watched the continuation of play with interest. m’Lady called out: “Turn over, fuckpig, and take the same position. I’m not done.” The fuckpig’s face was shiny, showing where I had constantly dripped lubrication and ejaculatory juices onto her as I was fucked. I leaned in to nuzzle her ear and smell my umami aroma on her skin, my owner grasped her buttocks to open wide her holes for plundering. Earlier I’d had my tongue buried in the lovely arsehole now on show, and as I leaned back I could see that it still glistened damply. But that was not the hole m’Lady wanted – yet – and the fuckpig cried out as cock thrust hard into her cunt, and ey began the same forceful fucking I’d been receiving just a minute earlier.

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Tomorrow

Tomorrow is the day that I’ve been waiting for: it’s the day where I fly back over to Melbourne.

Tomorrow I will be back with m’Lady, my owner, for two whole weeks.

Tomorrow I will be on an aeroplane for four hours, wearing my knee-high boots, a short dress and no underwear. My tag will be shiny in my ear. My face will be bright with smiling anticipation. My aroma of arousal may possibly be noticeable, if you’re close enough.

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Conversations With My Owner

Need versus Want

Dee on IM: growls happily 

I am so fucking horny and ready to come.

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Treasured Property

Every January for the last few years, m’Lady and I have worked together on my Title Deed, the document which confirms the owner/property dynamic of our relationship, and the limits we’ve agreed to set upon it. We’ve gone through it, reviewing each section and clause, discussing what’s in the document and what’s not – what we’ve found to work (and not work) over the previous year.

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Auctioned

The story below was written by m’Lady Tethys as a birthday gift for me – I was thrilled to wake up and find it waiting for me in my inbox, along with an audio clip where ey read it aloud to me (as you can probably imagine, I wanked my brains out listening to it). It is with permission and with great pleasure that I share the words with you now, after keeping it to myself for a month.

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Gender Non-Binary

I’m in love with someone who doesn’t fit the so-called gender binary. I’m in love with someone who has breasts and a penis, wears their hair long and occasionally sports a goatee, who prefers to be in skirts but pairs them with stompy boots. Are they simply a woman? No. Are they simply a man? No. Am I attracted to them? Absolutely.

Gender is not a binary – even though media and social perceptions reinforce it every day.

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Cow Number 1 on Lambda Farm

Once there was a young red heifer, wandering across the fields. She had lost her herd: there was no farm she called home, nor any farmer’s whistle she recognised as familiar.

The cow was unaware that the sensation she felt deep below her stomachs, day after day, was loneliness – she had been weaned long since, and so all she had to do each day was amble and munch upon pasture grass (and wildflowers, when she came across them) for the long slow turning of the earth.

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Placed Around My Neck

Two years ago today, m’Lady placed a collar around my neck. This meant something very special to us both, but we didn’t make a big deal out of it – there was no celebration, no ceremony, no party (there was a lot of fucking, though!). Instead, beforehand we’d talked extensively about whether a D/s dynamic, specifically ownership, was something we both wanted. Before my visit to see eir I’d also arranged to have the collar custom-made by my friend Kiana, and we’d discussed the type of leather to be used, the shape and style, size and width of it.

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State of the Dee

Where did I go?

It’s been weeks since I’ve updated. Given that there’s usually anything between one and four posts a week from me, to go over three weeks without any at all is extremely unusual. The last break I had of any length was actually the end of 2006, when I dropped off the radar for three months – and I wasn’t planning to do that again!

That time, there was no particular reason. This time there was. So, what happened? It started when I went into hospital, in extreme pain - we ran through a bunch of possible diagnoses, ruling out the appendix, kidney and gall stones, and the sacroiliac joint. Every time a new possibility came up, the surgical team, in combination with x-rays and an abdominal MRI, figured out that wasn’t it. And eventually, after three days, they send me home with wicked strong painkillers and orders for bed rest.

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Oral Specialist

Last night (or rather, early this morning) as my mouth was hot on Apollo’s very hard cock, I wasn’t considering this post at all. I was focused entirely on sensations: the tang of precome as it seeped onto my tastebuds; the slight vacuum in my cheeks as I sucked upwards; the slight ripple of his stomach muscles every time I flicked my tongue just like that.

Fellatio, indeed, any kind of oral pleasuring, isn’t something I regard as an inherently submissive act – even though, for many of my relationships, I’m in a power exchange dynamic where I am the submissive. What it is, rather, is something that I adore doing, and often tips over into outright worship. Worship of genitalia; worship of my partner; worship of the act itself.

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