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“More tongue, Baby. Use that fantastic tongue of yours.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she obeyed. She would never disobey him, even when obeying was a challenge. Nothing worth having , nothing worth achieving, ever came without a challenge. That is what Daddy always said and she knew he was right.

Julie took the cock into her mouth again, determined to make it pleasurable this time. She let her tongue slip out and trace a trail along the bottom of the shaft to the tip, taking a moment to flick the underside and swirl her tongue around the head. A groan escaped the lips of the man attached to the cock. See Daddy, she thought. He’s enjoying it. I can be a good girl, Daddy. She stole a look and saw approval in his eyes.

The man groaned again as she continued to suck and lick. “She really is spectacular Bob. That mouth of hers, that tongue. Damn! You are a lucky man.”

“That I am, ” he responded. “That I am.” Then, turning his attention to Julie, “Come on Babygirl, show this old bastard some lovin.”

Julie was happy to hear her Daddy talk about how lucky he was to have her, although she knew that she was truly the lucky one to have such a loving and thoughtful Daddy. She would do anything for him and she knew he would always be there for her, supporting her, guiding her, loving her the way only he could.

As she went back to the task at hand she thought about her tongue and the fantastic things she could do with it. She had used it on many a man, and woman. She enjoyed it, the feeling of power she got from knowing how much pleasure she was giving them. It gave her pleasure as well. The feeling of a woman’s body reacting to her tongue lapping at her clit and invading her pussy. That was hot. The feel of a man’s cock going from soft to rock hard in her mouth with her lips firmly around it and her tongue swirling about the head. That was pure delight.

There were times, like today, when she couldn’t find the pleasure in it though. It wasn’t because her partners weren’t into it, often they were the ones being more vocal than not about how awesome she was. She did have a fantastic mouth and tongue, Daddy told her all the time, but it was not for everyone. It was different when it was someone else, though having him there with her helped. Just knowing he was there and hearing his voice helped her get past any initial nervousness or apprehension she might have, usually.

Today she couldn’t get into it. She sucked and licked, she caressed and kneaded, she opened up her throat and took every bit of him in. He groaned in appreciation enjoying every moment but she just couldn’t no matter how hard she tried. She imagined it was Daddy’s cock in her mouth. She loved sucking Daddy’s cock. To her, his was absolute perfection. Big and firm, but not too big as to hurt her jaw, and it was smooth, so smooth, with a little tuft of hair at the base. Julie closed her eyes and imagined.

The man’s groaning became louder and he started pumping, driving his cock into her mouth. She fought to keep up with him, to not just open up and let him fuck her mouth. She grabbed his ass and held him firmly, letting her mouth do the moving rather than him. She was more than ready for this to be over but she knew she had to do it right or Daddy would not be pleased. She had to show control and allow him to release at the right time.

“Are you ready Babygirl?”

She managed a nod while continuing her action on the man’s cock.

“Do it, Baby. Make Daddy proud.”

Julie knew what to do. She took the cock into her mouth with her lips about half way down his shaft. Then quickly moved her head back while her tongue kept pressure on his cock and flicked the tender underside of the head as it slid out of her mouth. A few quick strokes with the same movements, then it was time. She opened up her mouth, her throat, and took the cock all the way in. At the same moment she pressed one finger at the base of his scrotum behind his balls and inserted another well lubricated one into his ass.

“Arggg…” She felt the hot cum sliding down her throat as his body twitched and bucked trying to release every ounce. He was done.

“Great job, Baby. That’s my good girl.”

“Holy fuck! That was amazing! I don’t know where you learned those moves but you are one talented young woman.”

Julie gave him a little smile, thankful it was over. She couldn’t wait to get back to their hotel room, have a nice hot shower and snuggle with Daddy.

 

 

This week’s challenge was to make bad sex sound good. I may have come up with the challenge, but that does not mean I was able to meet it.
Click the Wicked Wednesday button below to see how others rose to the challenge.

  

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I recently joined a group on Facebook, BDSM Info, and saw the following posted earlier this evening. (It is a closed group but you may be able to see the original post and comments here) I wanted to share it because it is something we should all ask of ourselves and our relationships. Even if we do not have all the answers it is important we consider them and find the answers along the way.

Questions to think about for a sub/slave

Tell me, my slave, do you do the things you do for me because you want to, because you believe I want you to, or because you have been taught by someone else that is what a slave should do?

Why do you kneel for me, why do you call me “Master”, why do you obey my every command, regardless of how stupid it is?

If I told you I wanted you to stop kneeling for me all the time, to stop calling me “Master” in every sentence, to stop following my every command without thinking, would I be less of a Master in your eyes then?

If I told you I wanted you more as my friend instead of my property, more as my lover instead of my toy, more as my helper instead of my tool, would you lose your respect for me then?

If I relieved you from your bonds, from your commitments, from your promises of obedience, would you leave me then?

Do we shape our relationship from our own common needs and preferences, or do we shape it from a cliché someone else has painted for us?

And finally, am I asking you this just because I am a “true” Master testing if you are a “true” slave, or am I asking you this because I want to know, because I want us to know, because I want you to know the answers to these questions.

Think, my slave, about if you want to answer these questions, about if you dare to find the answers to these questions, about if I really want you to try to answer these questions.

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Holiday House

It’s been a while, but this is a continuation of the original Life With Victor (LWV) series. You can find the previous posts here

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Tasha was weary about going away with Victor this weekend. Their last vacation had led to a lot of upheaval in their lives. They were finally back to being them. No codling, no going easy on her. There hadn’t been any truly rough play but she was happy their dynamic was returning to normal. What if going away affected that? She was nervous.

“Why don’t we just spend a nice weekend at home? We could go for brunch at that new place down on 5th, spend an evening at the club. We haven’t been there in ages.”

“Don’t worry Tash, you will have a great time. Trust me.”

“I do trust you. I just…”

Victor put his arms around his wife and pulled her close. “I know baby. I know. This trip will be very different than our last. Now, go pack. I want to get on the road as early as possible tomorrow. You’re still only working a half day?”

“Yes. I’ll be done at 1:00.”

“Very good. I will drop you in the morning that way we can hit the road when I pick you up. We can take our time on the nicer side roads, make a stop or two, and still get there by 5:oo. Plenty of time to unpack and grab a hot shower before dinner. I made reservations for 7:00. Be sure to pack something suitable. That sexy green number from will do. You always look gorgeous in green. Now go,” Victor gave Tasha quick slap on the ass and sent her off to pack.

She was still unsettled about it but she trusted Victor. That didn’t seem to be of any comfort as she tossed and turned during the night, waking up in a cold sweat. She tried to talk him out of it again in the morning but he would not be deterred.

“Don’t you want to be a good little whore,” he chided.

“I do, Daddy. I do,” and with that she no longer worried about the weekend.

 

The sun playing peek-a-boo behind the clouds kept the temperature from soaring and made their long drive out of town enjoyable. They took their time. They stopped for her favorite ice-cream. They stopped to watch the falls and bask in its mist. They also stopped at one of the local wineries to pick up a few bottles for the weekend. Tasha was relaxed and happy. Victor was pleased.

When they arrived at the rental house Tasha was less than impressed. She was surprised to find it was not at all how the brochure had described. It was listed as a grand turn of the century estate with old world charm and modern day amenities. They had passed a large estate house before turning onto the small gravel lane but that was not where they were staying. They were in what looked to have been a servants quarters at one time. It was small, not completely run down but any charm it may have once possessed had worn away over the years.

“Are you ready,” Victor asked, turning the truck off and smiling at her. She looked at him, perplexed. This couldn’t be where they were staying. “What’s wrong, baby? You don’t like it?” His tone showed a hint of amusement.

“Is this really where we are staying?” She tried not to sound like an impudent child.

“It is. Come on, let’s bring our stuff in. I have some plans before dinner.” There was something in his smile, his eyes, she hadn’t seen in quite some time. Beneath his amusement was something darker.

She got out of the truck, grabbed her bags, and followed him. She was looking around, trying to find something, anything, redeeming about the place and not paying attention to Victor. She walked right into him as she rounded the corner of the house. He had stopped and was looking at something off to the right. She followed his gaze to a hitching rail.

“No running tonight little whore. Daddy’s going to take you for a ride.”




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Have you ever had an experience you were too naïve to understand or appreciate? So erotic, but you were too insecure to just let it be and embrace it? I relive the following experience in my head over and over again. It’s been 25 years, yet when I close my eyes I am transported back to that little bedroom with that amazing young man I was completely mad about yet unable to love the way he wanted and deserved. I’ve had this written for a while but couldn’t quite get the style of it the way I wanted. I didn’t want a poem or a long story so I was left with breaking the rules.

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Standing in the middle of a dark room,

nearly pitch black

and I can’t see a thing.

But I can feel him,

his breath against my neck,

his hands gently caressing me.

I tingle all over.

My breath grows shallow.

No words.

He stands in front of me.

Close enough for me to reach out and touch,

but I don’t dare.

The buttons on my blouse

slowly, ever so slowly,

come undone.

His hand glides across my shoulder

pushing my blouse off.

Next, the other shoulder

then he pulls the sleeves

one at a time

and lets it fall to the floor.

Gentle kisses on my neck,

my collarbone,

as his hands now move lower.

The pop of another button

precedes the sound of a zipper,

my zipper,

slowly going down.

Achingly slow.

I hear every catch of the zipper as he goes.

Two hands now move across my hips

down the back of my jeans

pushing them down,

past my behind,

down to my knees.

Lift, he says.

One foot,

then the next,

as my jeans join my blouse

on the floor.

His arms are around me now

tugging at the clasp

of my bra.

Easily unhooked

it is swept from my shoulders

and drops to the floor.

The pile of shed clothing grows.

He cups each breast,

squeezes

and kisses them tenderly.

My nipples ache for more

but I dare not ask.

I am a good girl,

I don’t do such things.

He kneels in front of me

and slips his hands

under the waistband of my panties.

His hands slide down my thighs

bringing the soft fabric with them.

Lift, he says again.

One foot,

then the other,

and I am naked.

He leans in now,

buries his head

between my legs.

I tremble

nervously,

yet completely turned on.

Soft moans escape

as his tongue makes contact.

Oh my!

Off his knees now,

he kisses me

before taking my hand

and walking me over to the bed.

He pulls the sheets back

and sits me down.

I hear the sounds of his clothes

now being removed

and left in their own

crumpled pile on the floor.

Gently,

tenderly,

he takes me.

 

 

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I’ve been reading some posts by Vile recently and was inspired to write one of my own. The posts I found particularly inspiring this week, and ones every sub or slave or those who inspire to be should read, were Warning Signs Of A Fake Dominant and Let Me Tell You Ladies Something. I started writing my post then I received a message from a “Master” on FetLife who I haven’t communicated with in over a year. How apt. I have never met this man or even spoken with him over the phone. I am the owner of the local BDSM group on FetLife and run our local munch. He has never come out to it and I do not know anyone who knows him personally. My inspired post has been put aside for the moment for this; the last few of our messages exchanged on FetLife and the two from today as they were written, although I have altered his user name and removed my phone number.

MasterS: 1Y
u r very safe playing with me , this is a guarantee

I will never exceed ur pain limits and ur submission is pretty well respected , my possible future sub

MasterS: 1Y
ok , will message each other
give ur phone number so i can text message u , n i promise will never call

StellaKiink: 1Y
I will accept you texting…
416-xxx-xxxx

MasterS: 1Y
Great start

MasterS: 1Y
did u get my text messages?

*There was some texting for a very short while after this message. I deleted them and him from my phone not long after. In them he told me how long my fingernails were to be and what color those and my toes should be painted. He told me to have certain things on hand for when he came over. I recall rubber or latex gloves as being one of those things. He also said I was to refer to him as Sir at all times during any and all communication.

MasterS: 58m
why did u stop replying?  (he also sent a text message at the same time which read: hello pretty sub, how is the bdsm lifestyle treating you?)

StellaKiink: now
Honestly, I wasn’t comfortable with the way you were talking to me, having unrealistic expectations when I was not your sub and you not my Sir. Sir is an earned title, not something to be called just because you demand it.

The way I dress or care for myself, what I keep in my bedside table, are for me to decide until, or even if, I choose to give that control to someone else. I am not going to give that control to someone who declines to give me his name and phone number, and a whole lot more personal information, and who I have not formed that relationship with.

Being submissive does not mean I am going to submit to anyone who tells me to. That may work on young, naïve, or even older women who are desperate to find someone and thankful for whoever gives them that attention, women who have no sense of self worth and base their happiness solely on someone telling them they are.

There is a distinct difference between someone who tells me they are a Dom and someone who truly acts and lives as one. You told me you were, you did not act as if you were. Being controlling and dominating does not translate into being a Dominant, not with me. I don’t know if you really have a dominant personality or if you are just trying to overcompensate for some innate fault you think you have. Either way, I don’t care. As the saying goes, there is someone for each of us. You will be the perfect person for someone but that someone is not me.

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Do you perform fellatio, give blow jobs, or do you get face-fucked? Maybe you do something else.

Some people think that having a mans cock in your mouth is giving a blow job and that a blow job is a blow job is a blow job. fellatioSo very wrong they are. There are as many different ways to pleasure a cock with your mouth as there are, well, cocks. It is true that the cock goes in and out of the mouth regardless what you call it, but the way it goes in and out, the way you appreciate it, the way you worship it, the way he responds… these are all different.

I am a big, BIG, fan of fellatio and cock-sucking, cock worshipping, but I am absolutely no fan of face-fucking. When I am with a man I naturally fall into the submissive role. A stubborn and questioning submissive with a range of likes and dislikes, wills and will nots, but submissive none the less. When sucking a glorious cock I am the one in control, I am the dominant one in that scenario. I control the movement and depth to which I take it in. I give him pleasure. It’s all me and it’s a complete turn on. My mouth salivates and my cunt gets wet just thinking about it. I could almost cum from worshipping my mans cock.

Being face-fucked however, I don’t have control over anything. He is the one forcing his cock in my mouth, or my mouth down on his cock, and down my throat until I gag. I am just a tool to be used for his personal pleasure. There are plenty of women who enjoy being used in that manner, I am just not one of them. There are reasons for this, as there is with most things. I have a fear of not being able to breath. It comes from a lifetime of asthma and allergies and breathing issues. It comes from too many emergency room visits after consuming something that caused my throat to swell and constrict. I can’t handle not being in control of things going in my mouth and obstructing my ability to breath. Gags are a solid no, fingers can be iffy, face-fucking is very difficult. It instantly puts me on the defensive and into panic mode.

This topic of cock sucking versus face-fucking came up with a friend recently. I just so happened to be sucking his cock at the time. It wasn’t long before he grabbed my head, pushed it down and tried to force his cock down my throat. I tried to go with it but couldn’t. This wasn’t the first time so I asked him what the deal was, why he always tried to do that rather than letting me continue worshipping him as I was. You’d think I already knew the answer but I had never asked before. I had just assumed it was a case of the man wanting to be in control and doing this was his way of showing me that he was.

He said that he likes the way it feels when his cock hits the back of my throat, even enters my throat, and that I wasn’t doing that. He also said that my mouth felt fucking fantastic and he loved what I was doing. I told him that if he had let me be and didn’t try to force it I would have gotten to the point of taking him in that far naturally. Even if he had just asked I would have done it. He wasn’t really trying to control me as much as he was trying to get that feeling that he craved.

I’m sure this isn’t true for everyone. There are men who do it just to force their dominance down your throat, so to speak. They like to watch you struggle and suffer and tear up and gag. They get pleasure from seeing fear in your eyes. I’m not saying there is anything wrong with that, it works perfectly well for many people, it just isn’t something that will work for me. You can show your dominance in other ways, or you can let me give you pleasure in a way that I can only do when you let me.

Wicked Wednesday

The Fellatio Project

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Give or Take?

Have been thinking about this week’s prompt much of the day. Opinion. I can be quite opinionated on any matter of things, so I could tell you my opinion on something. I also like to hear other points of view, so I could ask for yours. I will do both. My topic involves the D/s dynamic.

I did touch on this a short while ago when talking about consent. My friend said he could force whatever he wanted and I would accept it. I said no, he could only force what I allowed him to. I believe both of us are correct.

The truth is that he really can force only what I allow him to, and for him to have control I have to willingly give it to him. He can not forcefully take control, that is abuse and that is not what it is about. It has to be a safe place for both of us.”

Today I was more thinking about whether the Dom takes control or the sub gives it. Doesn’t it have to be a combination of both? I mean, I certainly do give up control, but I won’t give it up to just anyone, and they also have to take it. The consensus I hear most is that it is a subs place to give control to their Dom, or Domme, Master, whatever their dynamic should be. I could offer myself to anyone really, but the fact is they also have to be willing and capable of taking control over what is offered. Also, one can not take more than what is offered to them to take.

I was with a man once who strongly wanted to be the one in control, the one I called Mister. I didn’t feel he was worthy of being called Sir, because he couldn’t take control even when I tried to give it to him, so he never was. He was too unsure of himself and didn’t really have any of the experience he had said he did. His idea of dominance through orgasm control/denial never worked because he couldn’t bring me to orgasm. That’s another story, but obviously it wasn’t the right relationship for me. It did make me question a lot of things though, such as whether or not I was, or could be, a sub. I didn’t have to wait long to find someone who showed me that I could be and was.

Another man I was chatting with rather briefly told me I was to always refer to him as Sir when addressing him. Yes Sir, no Sir, may I please Sir, thank you Sir, and so on. We never met in person or even spoke on the phone, just some online chats and instant messaging. We chatted a bit one day then the next he gave me a list of things I needed to buy to have on hand at my home for when he came over to play. He also told me how my nails were to be groomed and what color polish I was expected to wear how often a mani-pedi was required. I told him he wasn’t my Sir and it would take more than a dozen texts for me to even consider him to be such. He wouldn’t even tell me his name or give me his phone number!

There are so many men out there like him. Men who demand you call them Sir and obey their every command right from the first time you speak with them. Sorry but that shit’s not going to fly with me and it shouldn’t fly with you either. If you are going to let someone else have your control you need to trust them, and they you, that it won’t be taken advantage of and your best interest will always come first. It takes time for that to happen. It takes time to build trust and earn respect. Sometimes it can take only a few meetings, sometimes it can take much longer. Neither is right for everyone, but it isn’t something you should rush into with complete abandon. As with any vanilla relationship, you wouldn’t marry them before you’ve even had a first date, so why would you submit to someone the first time you interact with them?

Click below to check out other’s wicked thoughts this week

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