I am posting on behalf of a reader today; I hope that sometime soon, she will adopt a pen name here on WordPress and post under her own blog.
After I posted my story ‘Chains’, she emailed me and told me that the story had aroused her: “I just had to touch myself … how naughty am I?”
Well, my response was predictable – I don’t have enough information to know how naughty you were, so tell me more.
This reader writes beautifully – her writing can be raw and lustful, or passionate and sensual. I hope you enjoy her wonderful feedback as much as I do!
Here is what she had to say:
You have asked me to give an account of my thoughts, feelings and actions in connection with the reading of a certain story, a story of an erotic nature. Your request leaves me with a dilemma; do I confess all and run the risk of being called to your knee to be bared and guided over your lap (and we both know where that will lead) or do I employ evasive techniques and lose the opportunity to explore with a degree of intimacy what is in our nature?
I have chosen confession, Madame, firstly because I sense that my openness and vulnerability will please you and secondly, because the mere thought of exposing myself before you causes twinges in intimate places and moisture to pool between my legs.
So, I confess … and am prepared for the penalty.
I confess, Madame, that I felt aroused even before reading the story. I have been drawn to erotic literature of late because not only do I enjoy reading, I enjoy the stimulation it provides. I enjoy the way my breathing changes, the way my nipples tighten, the way my clit springs into life. I enjoy placing myself in the role of the submissive and fantasize about being on the receiving end of discipline … and pleasure. And so I read countless stories and kept myself in a constant state of arousal. This has been both delightful and frustrating
When I began reading Chains I was intrigued by the idea of the ankle cuffs, cuffs that bind together or cuffs that are used to pull apart, to immobilise. I could immediately imagine my legs being spread and immobilized for the pleasure of my dominant. The thought that she can have the freedom to look at or touch my most intimate places at her leisure is highly exciting. And so I read on.
I found that I could relate so well to the Girl’s desire to engage her sense with the chain – the need to feel it run through her fingers, to view it’s shape, length, thickness. it makes it all so much more real. And for her to fantasize in a public place … delightful. I too like to do that, especially when I am doing otherwise mundane tasks. The world sees what I do on the surface which is acceptable but has no idea about the naughtiness running through my head which may be unacceptable, unpalatable even shocking.
Does my confession please you thus far, Madame? Am I being open enough ? Vulnerable enough? Does what I say excite you?
I began to feel the need to touch myself when Emmeline asked the Girl to undress. Once more I am aware that being asked to be exposed and vulnerable for the perusal of another excites me. I get wet, Madame. My panties become damp, my lower lips swell. my clit twinges and I want to slip my hand inside my clothes to feel it all … and to bring out a wet finger so I can smell or taste my arousal. Last night I did both … but I wished it were my dominant.
By the time the Girl was being smacked with the spatula I was on my bed reading, gyrating, and dipping my finger in my sex. I wanted an orgasm … but not too quickly. Anticipation is the key after all.
But it was being over the barrel, so very exposed, so needy, so wanton, so ripe for Mistress , that brought me to the edge. I discarded my clothes and opened my legs, aligning myself with the Girl’s nakedness and vulnerability. The smell of my arousal permeated the room, the desire to have Mistress take pleasure in me was almost painful. I shared the leather with the Girl, I imagined my own bottom being striped … I imagined the leather being run between my legs, being coated in my desire and Mistress enjoying that little gift.
Jealousy rose in me when the Girl had the delight Emmeline’s tongue on her pussy. I wanted that! So I dipped my finger inside and drew out my juices and coated my clit. With long, slow strokes I played with my clit until I felt that familiar feeling. As my orgasm approached I imagined her mouth on me, lips sucking, tongue circling and dipping inside me. And I stroked until I came.