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princesstigerlil

princesstigerlil

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Friends:
CapeCodDomhollyheelssissysub4u2000Leatherknotsobsequius
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Looking for the one true submissive.....are you it?
Does anyone ever actually read profiles?? Read mine or don't message me.... If you are married...Do not message me. None of us change over time, we only become more fully what we are....Ann RiceLust is to the other passions what the nervous fluids is to life; it supports them all, lends strength to them all ambition, cruelty, avarice, revenge, are all founded on lust.Marquis de Sade
Read my journal entries to know more about me....

Tell me in detail why i should consider you....or you will be deleted. I do not wish to waste time.

NO ONLINE PLAY EVER....DON'T ASK I am seeking a submissive/slave to own and collar. Having 22 years experience in this lifestyle i know how to pick out the phonies.? i have been on both sides of the coin, being a switch, so I know how the submissive mind works. I am totally Dominant now.?If your life is to hectic move on....i have no intention of wasting my time on someone who has no time for me because of there unmanagable lives.... if your not totally available emotionally....move on.

I am a very caring yet strict Mistress. I expect total loyalty, total honesty, and most of all your complete submission to me. If you wish to submit to more than one, then move along.
We will maintain a vanilla side to our lives. But within that vanilla life you will always be under my control. If you don't like that, move on. I do not want a part time slave. i will expect you to be at my beck and call. When i want to see you, you better be here or again, move on. I despise being kept waiting or having a slave cancel plans at the last minute. I will not tolerate this anymore. You will be released if you do this.
This is not a game to me, this is real life. If this is what you seek then send me a message and tell me why i should consider you.? I don't want to know what "you" want. It is all about what i want.....UNDERSTAND PIG?
Mistress Lily

Fantasies even good ones don't hold a candle to real flesh......
Nobody ever just falls into the life.? It is a long torturous process that for some of us covers many years.? It is an enigmatic tour through the dark recesses of your own mind.?? A journey not for the timid or shy.? I have always believed that these cryptic images were always inside me.? I just suppressed or hid them. Like most of us.? I was an innocent.? Weren't we all once? ? ? Life throws you curves. Sometimes life tosses obstacles in your way. Sometimes it gives you a break. Then again, sometimes it puts you on a path you never expected. i think the most important thing i've learned is that while it is important for a Dom to treat that gift seriously, it's also important for a submissive to give careful consideration to where he/she places that level of trust. A hard lesson, well learned. Perhaps even a couple of times over. i can be a little thick sometimes. This isn't a game, it isn't playing out fantasies and fetishes, although that is involved. As a Dom chooses who He/She will train, so a sub must also consider and choose wisely. Even the illusion of love shouldn't have that much bearing, because it's a particular kind of Person that makes a good Dom, just as a certain type makes a good sub. if you are not "honest" and sincere then i do not want to hear from you. i have a lot to offer to the right one. i am incredibly tired of games. so please don't play any......
Warning:
Any institutions or individuals using this site or any of its associated sites for studies or projects - You DO NOT have permission to use any of my profile or pictures in any form or forum both current and future. If you have or do, it will be considered a violation of my privacy and will be subject to legal ramifications.
It is recommended that other members post a similar notice to this or you may copy and paste this one.

Look into my eyes...
....for within their ice lies frozen 
 a mystery...
that the hands
 that feed your hunger to  submit   
  also cradle my  soul
   like a newborn...
that the raw taste
  of MY hunger for your final surrender
   starves my will of any   temptation
   to resist my lyrical whims and   fancies   
   as I play you...

your flesh,

exposed and taut

like a canvas stretched 'neath the expert hands of an Artist
who paints your soul with strokes of leather
and rejoices in its betrayal of your will
like a Lazarus...
I have bound you in chains,
restrained you with rope,
blinded you with silk
and silenced your cries with trust.
Look through your eyes...
for afloat in their pools
reflects the desire to bathe in Your faith
and wash away your doubt.
You need me...
to make your flesh burn
and eyes cinder
and reduce your will to ashes,
so that you might be born again like a phoenix...
....and be cradled in My hands

once again...

The Hunger of Rope

Erotica written 3 months ago by princesstigerlily

the hunger of rope traverses the needs of your flesh, binds your desire and quickens your descent into submission. the calm of captivity unfetters your longing and lures you to the nucleus of your lust.

the yearning of rope traverses savory skin, cinching pulsing wrist to pulsing wrist, manacled you unfold, increase and bloom into bondage.

the drudgery of your vanilla boredom, peels away as the stinging grasp of rope bites your willing surrender then aches you into your core of craving. the shackles of your life fall away and you splash into the cauldron of your need

the fingers of rope slither across alabaster breasts, tracing the frail pulse of veins throbbing under your dreams of bruises .

the tongue of rope traverses your abandonment licking stiffened nipples. your breath gasps as moist tongues bind tight, pinching tender longing and swelling hunger. tied and cinched, roped and knotted you tumble free into the depths of your appetite

the hunger of rope devours your thighs and legs, spreading and holding them secure. the scraping caress of incessant rope traverses hips and pelvis binding the trembling hunger of pink lips dewing before their liquid discharge. moored by rope, your body releases its tide that swells and crashes on the sharp shoals of your hips

your body held taut, mummified by loops and braids that capture submissive flesh, shackles you in its hypnotic tendrils, freeing you to escape to your inner soul.

the rope hums its power though your limbs and eases you from the prison of your body. the hymn of rope pulls you from your flesh, and carries you safe cradled in cuffs and ties, swaddled in string and twine. trapped by rope, your inner ache revels in the liberation of confinement

the biting touch of rope delivers you from despair, frees you from your solitude of flesh. tangled in bondage your spirit soars to your dharma

how the submissive mind truly feels......


Imprisoned in your words that bind me too you

my dream and fantasies become unglued...

Stepping in a world unbeknownst to us both

is where I want to remain afloat....

The words seem so visionary and surreal

makes me want them and feel their appeal...

I’m awakened in more ways then you can conceive

My mind has become at ease...

Imprisoned in your words is where I always want to be.




  i am only looking for submissives....i have met quite a few submissive men and they are all genuine... i met my number one boy on here and for that i am grateful.  he has a very busy schedule that does not allow us to spend much time together. so i am looking for a new boy to play with to have a relationship with.  but even though he has no time, he will continue to be number one for now, if you cant live with that, then stop reading and take a hike....he will always come first....but if it doesnt bother you then come play with me boy....

acceptance...just a thought 

Note written 3 months ago by princesstigerlily

The differences we all have in lifestyles is one of the things that brings us together. The acceptance of those differences is what keeps us together. Together in a community that is accepting, non-judgmental and loving. Keeping love in the D/s lifestyle should be a major concern for us all. Love and forgiveness. If we can accept others kinks in a loving and forgiving way, we will have a thriving community and possibly a loving planet to live on. One of the things that I have noticed over the years is the many different people coming together and opening up to a way of thinking that is not generally accepted in today's society. Today's society meaning the vanilla population of the world. However, I see the strong individuals of this lifestyle being the ones who bring it up and fear no more about being rejected. Part of that thinking is the strong joined community standing next to them. Ready to speak out together.

I recently learned that a family member is into the D/s lifestyle and has been for years. If you think that is a mind blower, consider this: I have been in the lifestyle myself for years. Hiding it from people whom I thought would judge me or put me down because of the way I am. Recently learning that the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree is something to be considered. When we learned, (by accident) that each of us was in the lifestyle it brought us closer together than we have ever been.

I hear stories of how families ostracize other family members because they live and love in a D/s relationship. But it makes me wonder. Why? The reasons so many people are into the lifestyle have always been reasons for thought provoking conversations and debates. But the unforgiving nature of some vanilla people makes me wonder if a D/s relationship isn't so wrong for everyone. I know there are people in the D/s lifestyle who are not forgiving and loving. Yet, those of us that are don't judge them, we accept.

The lifestyle is so misunderstood and diverse. Yet, the more we open up and speak out, the more vanilla society will understand. The more open we can be then too. One persons kink in this lifestyle is another persons learning experience. Learning to learn and be open to it is a major difference in people who are in a D/s relationship verses people who aren't. Learning to listen to every little nuance and word.

Over the years, by being open to some people I have been able to put a different face to the way people think about D/s or even bdsm. By being patient and unashamed has opened new doors for people who may have not experienced things because of their fears. Fear and guilt and judgment is what stops people. The Fear of being different. The Guilt of being ashamed. Judging others by themselves. By not being afraid we in the D/s community have been opened up to a whole new world of feelings and emotions. A whole new way of expressing our love and ways to be loved. A new world that is endless with limitations and possibilities to conquer.

By being different we naturally seek out others like us. The Internet had proved to be one of the mediums that had brought the D/s life stylers together. Without the Internet most people would still live in a secluded part of their own little world. Lost in dreams and fantasies. Dreams of longing and wanting. Now being able to reach out over the world to be included in the community will always be a source of keeping the lifestyle alive and accepting. It will always be a place to learn and to find others like ourselves. Being different isn't a bad thing. It's the differences that keep us alive in a mixed up crazy world. It's the differences that make us feel loved. In a world where most things, including relationships, are disposable, it's nice to know that we have the community to catch us if we fall or are rejected by others that we love. By making it a point to love and forgive every day we can keep the love in everyone's lives. And remembering that we are unique because of our differences. Just by this piece i feel relieved. I am no longer one of those who are ashamed and who fear being found out. i feel totally free and alive. just want to thank you all for listening

------p--------

erotica...   hope you enjoy reading  






Hunter
     

  



Hot night. Loud music. Sea of movement. Perfect.


I am on the prowl! I'm in need, and the hunt has begun. Holding my drink, I let a current of bodies carry me slowly around the dance floor. The air is thick with energy and body heat. One can easily get lost in sensory overload; bass drumming deep in the stomach, a kaleidoscope of lights almost palpable on the exposed skin. Momentarily lightning-like flashes replaced by minute darkness …
 ~ where do all these hands go at those times? ~

Couples moving in unison, making dance look like love, girls huddled in little giggling groups, women focusing on someone, men looking …

When you hunt you observe, find the pray, single it out, mark it and then move in.

Many possible targets. Short white blond hair, tall, leaning against the bar, looking at me. Our eyes meet. He smiles. I appraise.
~ Next! ~

Moving on the dance floor, slower than the beat dictates yet pleasant, not in disharmony, just … on his own terms. Light sheen of sweat covering a tanned chest. Nice. I smile at him appreciating the display. ~ Good boy, keep it up! Next! ~  

I moved too close to the dance floor and an attractive male couple moves towards me, inviting me to join them. They move with the practiced ease of lovers, two halves, brothers in arms … tempting offer. I smile and let them pull me between them, allowing the music to move my body, reflecting theirs, an occasional touch, a brush against hot skin. They encircle me raising invisible barriers around us, creating our own space on the crowded podium. Tempting, but, too easy … time to move on. I peck each on the cheek with a warm thank you, and extract myself from their embrace, leaving them calling after me, smiling. ~ Next! ~

Floating with the crowd, I work my way towards a darker corner, a good, quiet place. Taking in the whole club, the MTV generation, the assault on all the senses seems more obvious from here. It is almost surreal, like watching a movie, a video, not being part of it.

My eyes are drawn to a spot. Darkness moving in the dark. What am I looking at? Flash of the white light, followed by thunder. Total blackout. Dizzying pulsing white light makes everything look like a broken movie replay. Usually, I wait this part out, with my eyes shut, but this time is different. This time I need to see! A flash of obsidian skin, tautly stretched over a wide chest. A glimpse of toned stomach. Hips encased in black leather. Black eyes focused on me.

Blackout. I have been holding my breath all this time I realize, feeling light-headed … ~ must be from all that pulsing light ~ . The music returns carrying the softer lights with it. My eyes did not move from the spot, and he is still there. Leaning against the ledge of the wall, his arms spread out on his sides, a black short sleeved shirt doing nothing to conceal, but rather framing his smooth body. He is not moving. He is on display, allowing me to appraise him. Our eyes meet again and I know he knows I like what I see. I know he can sense my pulse quickening. My mouth is dry and my legs are rubbery. And I know he knows.

We are not smiling. We are not moving. He is willing me to come to him. I am waiting for him to come to me. Two hunters caught in no-mans land. The song changes and I start swaying with the rhythm, bringing my drink to my desert dry lips. The ice rushes into my mouth and I play with it on my tongue. The crowd melts into background and there seems to be no one between us. His stomach moving slowly with his breath, his dark eyes still fixed on me.

I want him! I can go to him, but that's just not me! I can walk out and … miss on this opportunity. But… that's not me either! Will he meet me half way? I break the eye contact and lower my head allowing my hair to fall and form a curtain in front of my face. I turn slowly and leave my empty glass on the table behind me. Moving with the music, my eyes half closed I make my way towards the dance floor. Music speeds up with primal drums shaking my insides. It feels good to move. I concentrate on the drum beat and tune everything else out. People are cutting into my space. The movement of my hand, the dismissive gesture, a mental push - that's all it takes to be left alone.

Where is he? Sliding hands over my silk clad body, I wiggle like a snake shedding skin. The urge and heat is rising … where is he? I glance towards the empty spot, scanning around almost in panic! Where?! Frozen for a moment in mid movement, my hands entwined above my head, place closing in on me, focus lost …

I feel a rush of energy crawling on my back, thick darkness enters my field of vision, enclosing on my wrists, pulling them down and behind, pulling me backwards until my naked back meets hot silky skin. Every muscle in my body clenches and then relaxes, releasing, giving way, accepting guidance. I follow his movements, cradled in his arms, my eyes closed I am open to him, feeling, learning…

He moves us both, my ass in his lap, our hips gyrating, sliding against each other. Leaving my hands behind my back, wedged between us, he slides his right hand around my waist, while moving my hair out of his way with the other one. The tips of his fingers brush my cheek and I turn my face towards them, to find his eyes right next to me, his lips lingering above my shoulder. His gaze burns my lips, naked throat, bringing blush to my exposed cleavage. He closes his eyes and moves to my neck, inhaling my scent, brushing skin with his teeth, tasting me with the electrifying touch of his tongue. His big, wide shoulders wrap around me like Armour, melting me into his body, making me part of him. He withdraws like a shadow, spinning me around, catching me, making me straddle his knee, cold leather between my hot damp tights.

We are still dancing, maybe, or is this foreplay? I can not say. I am not the hunter, today I am the prey. Caught in his gaze like a rabbit caught in headlights, incapable of escape, unwilling to retrieve. As the music changes into something offensive, he peels me off his body and helps me stand on my own. He extends his hand and I take it knowing I am his now. We leave the dance floor and the crowd parts for him on our way out.

Salty sea air washes over us as the door closes muting the music we left behind. Not looking at me, he leads the way towards the beach. My feet sink into the sand and I pause to take off my heels. He waits, intently watching my every move. I pick up my shoes and step closer to him, only to see him turn away and proceed towards the beach. Still holding his hand I fall slightly behind watching him move like a big black cat. A warm night breeze pulls on his shirt making it balloon behind him, giving me glance of his tight ass.

We reach water line, sand feeling damp under my feet. The light of the moon is reflecting on mirror-like water and two dark pools on his face. He lets go of my hand and stands motionless in front of me, waiting.

My turn … Good.

I drop my shoes and they land with a soft thump in the sand. I look at him, his dark pupils swimming in the clear white of his eyes, his clean, sharp face lines, amazingly full dark lips, long hair spilling over his shoulders, muscles twitching as if pulled on by my gaze. His breathing is slow and relaxed. I look in his eyes, expectant. I turn sideways to him and start walking around him, drinking in the sight. He is not moving. His back is perfect muscle disappearing in snug pants. I put my hand on his hip and drag it over his butt, feeling it clench under my touch.

I make a full circle and stand in front of him, looking up to meet his eyes. Slowly I place both my hands on his chest and slide them over rock hard muscles, over his rippled shoulders pulling his shirt off, letting it slide to the ground. I lean into him and deeply inhale his masculine scent. My lips connect with his silk-like skin and I lick him, cherishing that first taste. I let my hands roam over his shoulders, pulling him into a feverish embrace, running my nails gently down his back.

He reaches up and grabs a handful of my hair pulling my head back, while his other hand grabs my ass to prevent me from falling. He meets my lips slowly, tentatively, exploring, breathing my breath, smelling me, looking at me. He kisses me, possessively, taking rather than giving, grinding against me, almost bruising, taking my breath away, making me lose myself in his hot mouth, his strong embrace. He breaks the kiss, and his hands grab the dress and pull it over my head, leaving me shivering almost naked, gasping for air, my arousal obvious from rock hard nipples to soaking wet crotch.

He pulls me, once again, into the kiss, one hand in my hair, the other crushing my breast. My knees give out and he eases me on my knees in front of him. As my eyes regain focus, I am holding onto his hips for balance and staring at a bulging hump stretching his pants, wanting to be released. His hand tightens in my hair and he forces my face against the lump, rubbing me gently alongside his painful erection. The pungent aroma fills my nose as I slide up and down, unquestioning, my tongue laps out and I lick the imprisoned hardness tasting the leather.

He yanks on my hair, forcing me to look up at his face.

His voice barely audible: “Take if off!” Clearly a command.

Without looking away, I move my hands and undo his belt and fly, releasing his fully erect cock. It comes out with almost a pop, scarcely missing my face, standing in its full glory just inches to the right. I tug on his pants lowering them to his ankles, and trace back with my hands sliding over muscular legs, up, all the way back to where I started, to his narrow hips.

He rubs himself over my cheek, heat radiating from the living stone. So smooth, so soft yet unyieldingly hard, crisscrossed with thick veins, pulsing with life. He brings it to my mouth and I open slowly, licking my lips, flickering over his twitching head, but he pushes hard, impatiently and I push back with my hands on his hips, stopping him. A tug on my hair pulls my head back, again, eliciting a surprised gasp from me.

“Who is in charge?” his voice hits me like a slap.

Hesitation. I swallow: “You.” My response but a whisper.

“ Who is in charge!” his hand crushes my hair, pulling on my scalp.

“You! You are in charge!” I pant.

“Sir.” he growls.

“You are in charge, Sir” I hear myself saying.

Danger! Crawling on the edge here! Red light flashing in my head. My cunt on fire. He is the one! He is the wild, dangerous animal I was hunting for, and now he has his claws on me, in me. And I'm loving it!

His grip relaxes, a little, as he guides me in to the position.

“Open.” His eyes cold, his lips, oh! So hot!

He enters my mouth and allows me to bathe him in my saliva. He smells clean and of leather. He tastes salty, like the sea. My mouth's full of him, so tasty, so smooth, so tender, so hard … He moves his hips like a lazy wave, flooding my mouth and withdrawing, working my spit all over him, farther and thicker on his shaft with every push.

My hands, feather touch on his contracting muscles, sliding from hips to his tight, round ass with his every thrust. I'm his tonight, for better or for worse and I beg those cruel charcoal eyes to do me right. He moves slower but deeper, and I tilt my head even further back, opening my throat for him. Every push makes me gag; every gag is battle of my will over my body. He enters slowly and I try to swallow, convulsing around him, tears in my eyes. Smile in his.

He holds me; my throat stretched to maximum, his hard cock deep in me, my stomach retching, choking, tears sliding from the corners of my eyes as I tenderly caress his clutched buttocks. I need air, I need to push him, I can't push him, I must not withdraw. My hands stop moving and my grasp on his hips increases as I'm fighting the need to survive.

He waits, looking at me, enjoying my struggle. He pulls out, watching me convulse, fighting to breathe, fighting the urge to be sick. He gives me time to calm down, to be able to look back into his eyes, and than he enters me again, slowly, deeply, until my nose is grinding against his pelvis.

“Stick your tongue out and lick my balls.”

I can't believe him. I can't believe myself! With my throat convulsing around his thick shaft I stick my tongue out and probe the silken skin of his sack. He slowly withdraws and I breathe, thick dribble coating my chin, sliding on my chest. I move my hands to caress his taut stomach, and he moves, forcing me to swallow him yet again. I close my eyes and welcome the painful thickness stretching my throat. I swallow and hear him draw in the air, music to my ears.

He withdraws leaving my throat raw. His cock glistens at the moonlight twitching in front of my face. He is looking at me with a smile.

“Well done.” Praise.

“Thank you, Sir” my voice hoarse, my breathing hard. I'm kneeling at his feet, my legs spread obscenely wide, my cunt cold from the cooled down moisture soaked into my silk panties. All of a sudden it hits me: what a sight we are! Ebony God and his ivory worshipper.

 

“Give me your panties.” He requests with his hand outstretched. Not daring to get up, awkwardly, I squirm out of my soaked underwear and hand it to him. He looks at it, feeling its dampness, brings it to his face and inhales deeply. My heart skips a beat as he reaches towards me and wipes the drool off my face with the cloth saturated in my own scent.

“Lay down on your back and play with your self for me!”

The heat rushes into my cheeks, I don't do that! That is so private to me, that is mine, I can't do that in front of anyone. He is standing, in front of me, burning me with his stare, waiting. God! I move slowly, unfolding my legs from underneath me, the sand cold on my skin, lowering myself to elbows, legs clenched together, my stomach in a knot.

I look down, my heaving breasts topped with painfully hard nipples, softly moving with my breath, stomach seamlessly curbing into the denuded mound, hidden between tightly clenched thighs. My legs stretch forever, and than abruptly the bluish milky white of my flesh meets obsidian black of carved stone. He forces his foot between my legs, and steps in, making me open for him. I clench my teeth and close my eyes, relaxing my hips, my head touches the sand, red hair spilling around me like a bloody halo.

Reluctantly my hands reach to caress my breast, fine sand feeling rough on my skin. I try not to think where I am. I can feel his legs between mine and I spread wider to avoid contact. He is quiet and still, as I slide my hands over my body, following familiar paths. My hand descends between my legs, finding my slippery folds. The rings in my pussy lips chime while I play with my clit. My fingers soaked in my juices, slip and slide, coaxing the engorging nub out to the moonlight.

My heart races, my breathing becoming sporadic, I hold my breath until it hurts, I'm climbing the steep approach towards climax, so needed, so wanted…

“Look at me!” His voice brings me back from the verge; my eyes fly open, frustration making itself known in my hissing exhale.

“You are doing this for Me. So, look at me.” Yes! Looking at him, waves of hot and cold flushes dance over my skin. Black beast, the living statue cut out of stone, slowly moving, rocking hips, caressing himself with my silken underwear, black eyes burning with intensity, his breath coming in short saps. His breathing stops. He throws his head back and showers me with his milk. All over me, splatter hitting my tits, my stomach, my legs … He is breathing hard. His hand clutched on his still hard cock. He smiles.

“You are a bloody mess! Go wash yourself!”

I twitch, but move and start rising, attempting to maintain a semblance of grace when his voice cuts me: “Did I say you can stand? Crawl.”

I freeze, crouching. ~ why am I doing this? ~ I lower myself to hands and knees, moving slowly towards the sea. My tits swaying underneath me, nipples dragging in the sand, my ass in the air, my wet slit adorned with gleaming rings, pouting at him. I reach the water and stop to rinse the offending evidence of his release.

“Don't stop, get in deeper. Keep going.” He is right behind me, and I continue to crawl, entering the warm water, my hands sinking in the sand, my breasts making splashing sounds…

He grabs my cunt rings, successfully stopping me, I gasp. My head is just above the water, my pussy just out of it. He fingers my rings for a few moments, making funny noise, making me shiver. Then, he kneels behind me, forcing my legs apart, and enters my pussy in one smooth motion ~ He never went soft! ~ I can not believe it, yet there he is, big and hard, filling me, stretching me, eliciting small grunts and squeaks from deep within me. With every push he hits my cervix, and I still do not feel the slap of his balls. I try to move away from him, to slip slightly forward when he thrusts, but his hold on my hips is strong and he pulls me back, not allowing me to retreat.

I feel him bending forward, gathering my hair, wrapping his hand into it, right at the nape of my neck. He withdraws leaving me empty. I feel him push against my anus.

“No!” I gasp, not able to move, not able to look at him.

“Quiet!” he growls. “You are mine tonight, and you are going to please me! Quiet!”
He pushes and I try to escape, but his hold on my hair, water just under my chin, I can't move. I feel him sliding in and the pain shoots from my bottom. I take deep breath and start to scream, when he pushes my head under the water. I hold my breath. Fear! I move my hands up, to grab on his arm, but that causes me to lose balance and push myself harder on his shaft. My hands find the sand and I try to push myself up, but I only succeed in pushing my self fully on the intruder in my bowels. Our tights connect and he yanks my head out of water.

I exhale, coughing and gulping the air. He holds me still for a while, giving me time to recover, to take a deep breath. I start to talk and he pushes me under the water again. This time he starts pumping my ass, while I frantically struggle to get out. Panic!

Burning in my lungs, lack of air making me dizzy, a pull on my hair and I am out. Breathe! Air! He continues fucking my ass, effortlessly, as if I'm a rag doll. My lungs fill with air and I hold my breath. He pushes me down. I don't fight. He feels good in my ass. Rocking me, sliding in and out, stretching me, filling me up. My pussy starts pulsing, clenching on empty …

He pulls me out. I breathe. I take deep breath, hold. Under the water. No breathing. Concentrate on the sensation in my ass, in my crotch, in my clit! His hand on my clit. Gently, right at the root, just like I do it! He is fucking my ass, he is controlling my breathing and he is wanking me off! I climb towards the climax fast. No breathing, just feel between my legs! He pulls me out. Exhale. Inhale. He lowers me down. Water embraces me. Whooshing sound of our repeated encounter, thump of my heart. Building fire in my clit. ~ Push on it just a little harder! ~ Almost there!

I impale myself on him and freeze as the orgasm hits me. The current running through my body, firing every nerve. I'm sitting in his lap, in his tender embrace. Safe. His breath on my ear, warm, comforting.

“Breathe! Easy … You OK?” he is concerned. I start shaking violently and he hugs me closer, wrapping himself around me.

“I'm cold.” My teeth chattering. ~This is funny! ~ I start laughing.

“Hang in there. I'll take care of you.” He whispers as he scoops me in his arms and carries me to his beach house. ~ we will get the clothes later…~ I wrap my hands around his neck and shiver. Feeling safe…..
End
 

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

this post came about because of an email i received this evening on another site from a wanna be Dom......

This word, RESPECT, seems to be popping up a lot lately in D/s circles, most notably in the rules for IRC channels. But just what does it really mean? Well, at least in my experience, it means that all lowercase letters (submissives) must call all uppercase letters (Dominants) Sir or Ma'am.

I won't even get started on the "uppercase means Dominant" idea, but what I don't understand is this concept that all dominants deserve respect. Why? Are they better than the rest of us? Are they more deserving of respect that anyone else, submissive, switch or vanilla?

Titles such as Sir or Ma'am are called honorifics. This means that they denote a position of honor. Why would being a dominant be anymore an honorable position than being a submissive. We are all...what we are. We do not choose...at least most of us, anyway...to be dominant or submissive because we feel more or less worthy. We are dominant or submissive because that is the natural state of being for us. Nevertheless, in all things dominants and submissives are equals. We all put our pants on the same way...our bodies function the same way...and we all deserve to be treated with respect and dignity equally.

Some imply that dominants should always be deferred to as if they are superior in some way or another. Well, sorry to burst that bubble, but not in my lifetime! Frankly, I am of the opinion that I am probably smarter than many of the dominants I meet. They have no greater powers than I and no greater understanding than anyone else in general (and too often much less!). This seems to be an assumption that is especially applicable to those whose experience is in the cyber world only. Well, ladies and gentlemen, go out to a munch or support group and look around. I guarantee that the dominants do not look any different from the submissives. They all look like people.

Taking this whole concept one step further, for me to defer to a dominant is, in effect, submitting my will to his. The concept that anyone with a capital letter or who calls himself "Dom Whatever" is due my submission is so ludicrous as to border on the insane. I choose to whom I submit...no one else! I choose when I will submit, too! What right does a stranger have to anything from me but polite behavior? Respect, like honor, cannot be demanded. It cannot be taken. It can only be earned and given. And can something given so freely and easily have much value? At least when I call someone Sir, it has been earned and deserved.....and comes from my heart.