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She was my 24/7 total sex slave.

She and I were on the same wavelength sexually, right from the start. I've never experienced that before or since either. My life had been a continual parade of frustration, meeting vanilla girl after vanilla girl, and never finding anyone who was kinky in exactly the same way I was. Until I met this one.

We met in a totally random and vanilla circumstance: at a bar, of all places. It turns out we were both from the same state, and liked some of the same music, and we chatted, but otherwise didn't think we had very much in common. I thought she was pretty, but what she was wearing obscured her amazing body. I wasn't a big dandy, and I was later told that I came off like a nice, somewhat nerdy, perhaps a bit cocky, vanilla yuppie.

Then came our first date. We went to see a movie at a film festival. I just got a vibe from her, one of arousal so palpable that I could feel it. So I felt compelled to take her hand, in a most innocent way. Then I really felt it. A certain sensitivity in her skin, one I usually don't feel from female skin until it is highly aroused. So I started touching her in my teasing way: slow, gentle, light, swirling motions, teasing, flitting unpredictable. And just on her hand! It drove her crazy. Wow, a woman whose hands are an erogenous zone? Amazing. She touched me too, and in the same way, which I loved as well. We completely ignored the movie, instead enjoying just touching each other.

We went out for drinks afterwards. Her kiss was completely open, wet with arousal. Only a handful of times in my life have I experienced kisses that desperate. Kissing has never been my favourite activity, but I love kisses like that. They are noticeably different: a completely open and submissive mouth, deeply wet, lips engorged and steaming hot, and almost panting breaths. It has always proven to be a reliable indicator of intense arousal. I was amazed at my good fortune.

After drinks, we kissed and touched for a while. I enjoyed teasing her nipples with gentle touches through her clothes. After an eternity slowly circling her around her nipples with my fingernail, I had no trouble whatsoever removing her shirt and bra-- she was eager, even desperate. Her neck and ears were also wonderfully sensitive, to which I applied my lips and my tongue.

I found to my great delight that her breasts and her nipples were achingly, unbearably sensitive. I lightly teased around them, circling, slowly, lightly, eventually performing a torture I love the most: circling just around her areola, refusing to touch the nipples. At some point I placed my mouth near them, so that she could feel my breath. I probably eventually used my tongue to torture one nipple, while my fingers tortured the other.

She refused to remove her panties that first night, or even her pants, if I remember correctly. Was she modest? Traditional? Did she want to keep her "dignity"? Did she want me to "respect her in the morning"? But then why present her breasts to me so eagerly? And what's with the trembling passion? I soon found out that, yes, there was all of that, but something more too.

The answer was simply that she loved being teased. So much so that she practiced a high level of competitve and merciless self-teasing. This evening was just part of that. She'd been raised in a traditional kind of household, and very much wanted to be a "good girl". But, her body craved, craved, ached, was mad with desire. So she found a way to combine the two: she teased herself. Mercilesslly.

Many years before I'd met her, she'd become close friends with another young woman who felt the same way as she. The two of them had come up with a game: they'd go out clubbing, and locate the hottest guys they could find, and make a pact to get as horny as they could (and get the guys that way too, of course), but not allow themselves to "do anything". This didn't necessarily mean orgasm denial: she was able to cum just by pressing her pubic bone against my leg, and she said she'd enjoyed many orgasms by "grinding" against one guy or another in a bar booth, on the dancefloor, etc. But these friends would go out and make a competition of it (they were both accomplished athletes), and at the end of the night they'd go home together and sit there and pant at each other, marvelling at and enjoying the glow from their aching and frustrating arousal, and trying to one-up each other in who had driven themselves the craziest.

She worked in a very conservative industry, and had to dress extremely professionally, but she made a point of always wearing the sexiest, sluttiest lingirie she could find underneath. She had an amazing collection of the stuff-- very hot. Sometimes she'd wear a top sheer enough so that one of these burning-hot bras would be visible beneath it, and then cover it up with a smart no-nonsense sportcoat. She loved it. "It makes me feel sexy" is how she explained it. Much later, she admitted, "It keeps me horny". And that's pretty much what she was about.

By the time I had met her, she'd been doing this for years. I was the first man who found this not in the least bit frustrating, but instead saw a way to use it against her, to amplify it, to take her to new levels of torment. Rememeber, she'd been dealing with vanilla jocks and models, the kinds of guys who just wanted to stick it in. But I had other interests... and other plans.

I had been longing for a 24/7 sex slave for my entire erotic life-- since puberty, or even before that (am I the only man who, as a young boy, found the drop-dead gorgeous and scantily-clad Barbara Eden calling her husband "Master" to be the hottest fucking thing imagineable?). It turns out that she had also longed to be a slave for just as long (um, and yes, she did look a bit like Barbara Eden). My desires took the form of active fantasies and active efforts to try to make them real. She had kept them deeper inside. Instead, she'd been tormented since puberty of "wet dreams" of being a sex slave. She'd concocted an entire futuristic fantasy world of concubines and high-tech sex pills and torments-- and they existed only in her sleep. Often she woke up after having had an orgasm.

We scheduled another date for the next night. Over dinner, I told her of my desires, fantasies, and experience so far in attempting to live them out. I told her that, if she was keen on avoiding intercourse with me until she was "ready", I was more than supportive of this. In fact, I'd deeply enjoy it. I told her that I would love the opportunity to tease her, to drive her crazy, and if it took months before she wanted me inside of her, than I'd enjoy that all the more. I don't remember if I told her I wanted to tie her up too. Or any of the other things I had planned. But I assured her that she needn't worry about my taking anything from her that she didn't want to give. I had no trouble keeping that promise. In fact I'd work to prolong it as much as I could.

She was both relieved and highly intrigued. And that night the barriers were gone, she eagerly removed all of her clothes, and offered herself to me to torment: and I applied myself to her lips and her clit in the same way I'd tormented her nipples the night before. Mad with desire, her mouth eagerly accepted my cock. And brilliantly-- and somewhat desperately-- sucked me to thorough completion, swallowing hungrily. Wonderful... I kept teasing at her. I don't recall if I allowed her to cum that night. I probably did, several times, before teasing her to an edge and leaving her there.

She had surrendered something extremely special: she'd always loved teasing herself, but this time had given control over that to me.

I think she probably endured a week of this before begging me to fuck her. After having enjoyed a week of fun, I had no trouble obliging.

Here's one of many sexy events that happened in one weekend, in the mid 1990s, with a deliciously kinky and gorgeous young lady who was also my 24/7 livestyle slave. We put aside all our obligations and activities that weekend, to be purely master and servant, with sex all weekend long.

I blindfolded her and tied her to a reclining chair, legs spread. bullet vibe inside her. Another small vibe strapped to her clit. Feathers hung down from the ceiling, tickling her exquisitely-sensitive nipples.

The vibe on her clit was attached to a contact switch under her ass (yeah, I was a geek back then too). When she arched her hips, raising her ass off the chair, the vibe turned on. If she relaxed and laid back on the chair, the vibrator turned itself off. Unattended torture! Evil, just the way I like it. The bullet vibe inside her had a wire attached and a hand-held speed adjustment which I adjusted occasionally.

I'd saved the vibrators as a surprise, just for this special occasion. This was the first time she'd ever felt a vibrator in her life. She was kinky, yes, but experienced, no. She'd been with jocks and models and guys who were much better looking than I, but who didn't know crap about sex. All of her wild bondage, domination, and teasing fantasies had only happened in her dreams. This was a new experience for her. She was completely unable to process what was happening to her.

After tying her up and attaching her to all this apparatus, I left her there for about a half hour, stopping in to check on her every 10 minutes or so.

I wish i had taken a picture. A hot, beautiful, desperately-aroused woman, completely helpless, and being tormented with stimulation she couldn't escape, didn't understand, and had never felt before. Damn she was beautiful, even without all that.

It turned me on so much, after I'd left her there a good long time, walked in and started rubbing my now rock-hard cock against her body, teasing her skin with the touch of it: soft and smooth and hot. On her nipples, rubbing it against them so lightly. On her neck, on her arms, again, lightly, wherever I could reach. Teasing up to her neck. Her head turned towards it, mouth open, wanting. I teased near her lips. Pulled away. Teased near her lips again. She loved to suck dick, and she was magnificent at it. After a while, I gave her the head of my cock to suck on. She sucked so eagerly, so desperately, it stunned me. Her sucking said MORE MORE MORE PLEASE. I removed the switch from beneath her ass, and held it in my hands. "Lay back", I said. I grabbed the control for the other vibe in my other hand, while also using it to steady myself.

I put my cock to her lips, and she took it into her mouth eagerly. Because of the angle I was standing over her, in order to reach her mouth, my dick was facing straight out, perpendicular to my body. It felt even harder that way. It was like a cannon aiming directly at her. Her lips were fastnened so securely, I did not worry about falling out.

I turned both vibes on full speed.

She bucked against the restraints, and sucked on my cock so desperately, as if for life, for relief, for comfort, for mercy. Out of desire, and perhaps even of fear. Loud moans that sounded almost like muffled screams, came from her throat. The humming felt beautiful against my cock. Her mouth was dripping wet, her breaths fast and hot.

I worried for a moment that she might choke. After all, there wasn't much room for her to move. I've never been a shove-it-down-your-throat kind of guy, never grabbed a woman's head while she sucked on me, none of that. But she sucked so eagerly, was breathing so heavily and so freely through her nose, that I stopped worrying.

I turned the first vibrator on and off, and the other vibrator up and down, at random and unpredictable times. When both were on, she sucked me harder and more enthusiastically and with more passion than I've ever been sucked, by anyone, before or since. It was magnificent sensation and I don't think I can describe adequately how it felt.

Finally I turned both vibrators full blast, without mercy. I let go of the controllers, and steadied myself with both hands. I may have reached over to play with her nipples occasionally too. She was a wreck. And her sucking became even more despearate, not so much sucking, as pleading, which was certainly the meaning of the anguished moans vibrating against my dick.

I'd read in porn stories many times before the cliche about cumming like a volcano, but always chuckled at it and never really understood what that meant. Now I do. I came, and came, and came. Spurting and squirting, and spurting again, in a straight line, directly down her throat. She swallowed and swallowed some more, out of desire, sure, but also as if the swallowing were a reflex she couldn't help but do, or she was afraid not to do. Again and again, as much as my body demanded of her, and it kept going. A needy, aching kind of swallowing. She was saying "please, master" with her throat, with her whole body. and I came so thoroughly that I felt lightheaded.

I eventually untied her. I loved holding her after torturing her. She was so pliant, so mushy, so helpless. She curled up into my arms, still shaking.

"You made me swallow your cum, Master". She looked at me with slave eyes: an amazed, innocent, completely open look, eyes innocently wide-open, mouth open, like Jane Fonda in "Barbarella". She looked like that often. Which is why she was so hot.

She'd swallowed me quite a few times before that, and after that too, but never this eagerly or this completely. The irony is t what made it so hot or her, was being forced to do it. What made it so hot for me, was how willingly and enthusiastically she did it. Funny how the former created the latter. I didn't intend it that way but I guess it worked out, to her deep satisfaction, and mine too.

I was thinking about a weekend, 10 years ago (damn, I'm getting old!) when a friend from Los Angeles came to visit me in San Francisco. We've been friends for a while and occasionaly visited each other for fun and, well, if neither of us were attached at the time, very special fun!

We drove up to Sonoma and got a buzz, had some great food and wine. The drive back was long and boring. The sun beat down on us in my convertible, lulling us into a wonderful softness. We didn't feel like talking, and the road noise and engine noise made the radio kind of pointless. At one point we were holding hands. Then, I went to shift and put my hand back and ended up stroking her thigh. Her legs opened. Before long I was stroking underneath her sundress, peeking my finger underneath her panties, slowly, languidly, absent-mindedly gliding over the outside of her lips, up and down, slowly, up and down. It was driving her crazy but she didn't move or say a word. Remember, this was in a convertible, so the passing truckers were getting an interesting show as well. There wasn't a lot of skin showing but it would be obvious to anyone watching what was going on.

I teased her this way for over an hour, stroking her clit ever so lightly, slowly. She would get very distressed whenever I had to shift, grabbing my arm. So at this point I was shifting with my left hand. I learned to be quite coordinated! I told her not to move. I told her I wouldn't let her come before we got over the bridge. But boy did I keep taking her closer and closer.

And then we hit some traffic getting towards the bridge. This poor girl, leaned over on my shoulder, her legs strained open so wide, grabbing on to my arm for dear life, breathing desperately, completely oblivious to the spectators in the now-stopped traffic. I thought I should have some mercy on my dear friend. I began moving faster and faster and more insistently and her body moved even more intensely, after a short while she climaxed completely helplessly, collapsing on my shoulder, leaning over for a deep kiss.

It was delicious. I love stuff like that.