JT Stockroom

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

BDSM Play 17: Natural Born Killers

I have a confession to make: I have seen the movie, "Natural Born Killers", at least fifty times through.  At least.  When it was on HBO in the mid-1990s, I watched it every time it was on and I wasn't doing anything.  While I was out a lot in the mid-1990s and did a whole bunch of things, I was also up all night pretty much every night, and there were hours when no one was around or awake.  Aside from the fifty or so times I've watched it without distraction, I've also had it on as background noise more times than I can count.

I'm a parent now.  I can't do that anymore.

But this story isn't about the movie; it's not a critique or analysis.  It's about how I've never been able to get all the way through it if I've been in the same room as a woman with whom I've been sexually intimate--and my slave is no exception.

Does the movie itself turn me on?  Yes and no.  There are parts that would be completely hot if they involved consent and not snuff.  That part when Mickey assaults the hostage in the motel room with the knife could have turned into some hot knife play action (not that I would have wanted it to actually be IN the movie--but the fantasy fragment is there).  The part where Scagnetti strangles Pinkie, the prostitute, would have been hot if he hadn't killed her...and again, the essence of fantasy is there.

Consent is key, and of course, in the movie, the women are victims.  It doesn't stop me from changing the behavior in my mind into something hot, and that's why I get turned on.  I have no desire to kill anyone or make a woman do anything without her consent, but seeing a woman helpless, as both of these women were...well, that's how my life as a sadist began.  A far lower-quality film I saw in my childhood had a woman tied up, helpless, struggling, screaming, as she found out she was about to be burned alive.  The snuff was a disappointment, but the fantasy was there, and I couldn't help being turned on.  I could separate it in my mind, but back then, I didn't dare think any females were actually willing to do anything of the kind: being tied up, experiencing fear, struggling, screaming...willingly?

How wrong I was.

My slave also loves this movie, and we were watching it together.  After we got through the aforementioned scenes--long after; I think we were on the prison scene where Wayne Gayle asks Mickey for the live interview--I slid my hand into her pants and found her wet.

I wasn't going to finish the movie.  That much was clear.

I brought to orgasm once, twice, three times, then four, and she told me, "Master, I'm getting uncomfortably wet."

"A slave's life is not about comfort," I said, as I started on the fifth.

I took her back to the room, leading her by her hair.  I pushed her face down on the bed and yanked her pants off.  I ordered her to take off her hoodie.  She had a shirt underneath, and I took that off myself.  I had use for it.

I wrapped the shirt around her head, combined the ends with a handful of hair, and held her down with the shirt securely over her face.  Not only could she no longer see, but her breathing became difficult, which made her panic.  She clawed at the shirt and squealed.  She struggled.  Her head thrashed back and forth.

She was wet before.  Now, she was soaked.

Thrusting into her was easy.  Holding back the orgasm took tremendous effort.  I slowed my pace at first, gaining control...her panic reaction nearly caused me to fill her on entry.  Once I gained control, I quickened my pace and put more force behind my thrust.

I let her panic for some time, then I took the shirt away from her face.  "Does that scare you, little whore?  Make you claustrophobic?"

"Not claustrophobic, Master, but scared, yes."

"And you love the fear."

"Yes, Master, It turns me on so much."

"Mmmm...you're so fucking wet.  Did that movie turn you on?"

"Yes," she gasped.  She was still trying to catch her breath.

"What part?  Was it the knife?"  I know she loves knife play.

"That turned me on, yes, but the part with Pinkie."

"He wasted her, didn't he.  He should have taken his hands off, let her live, savored her fear."

"Yes, Master."

"You won't go to waste.  You know why?  You're my little plaything.  I don't want to lose my little toy."  I wrapped my hands around her neck, putting pressure on the sides. She clawed and my arms and my hands, then she gripped my upper arms hard for awhile.  When they weakened, when she was losing consciousness, I let go of her neck and smacked her head.  I let her catch her breath, then I did it again, but this time, I fucked her savagely while I held onto her neck.  It felt so fucking good, but I was in control of my orgasm now; I wasn't going to cum until I was done enjoying her.  Would have been a shame to waste her when she was this wet.

I let go of her neck, let her come back to her senses and catch her breath, then I wrapped the shirt around her head again.  I fucked her harder, harder, growling and grunting,her reactions feeding my primal savagery.  Then the surge came, and I exploded inside of her.

We really need to own that movie on DVD.

Afterward, we cleaned up--we needed to, badly.  Fluids were everywhere.  When we crawled back into bed, I cradled her cheek in my hand, I looked into her eyes, and I said, "You mean everything to me."

"You mean everything to me, Master," and she smiled.

We kissed.  I stopped to kiss her nose, like I always do.  It always makes her smile and laugh.  I love her smile and her laugh.  I wouldn't trade her for the world.

BDSM Play 16: Domination in whispers

Domination isn't all about harsh tones and corporal punishment.  It's not all about hair-pulling, face-slapping, and pussy abuse.  Those things are a part of BDSM, of course, but they're not what it's all about.

There's art.  There's seduction.  There's setting the mood and maintaining it.  There's tone of voice, there's creativity, there's a manner of breathing, there's the reading of body language.  There's getting to know everything about your slave or sub and using that to not just to do your will, but to make her desire to do everything for you, to live to please you.

My slave and I were sitting on the couch, watching a movie, and we were talking about how I had a surprise in store for her sometime soon.  She was intrigued, but she couldn't guess; there are so many things she likes.  We were going over those things, and she mentioned how she loves it when I dominate her in whispers.

I used to say it often: "Domination is in a whisper."  I don't mean that you have to dominate anyone in a whisper.  What I mean is that you understand the art when you can.  It means that you know what to say to get your slave turned on, and you don't just bark orders at her or manhandle her into doing your will.

I ran my hand up her leg and I exhaled heavily near her ear, then I took a breath and whispered, "I desire you.  I want you.  I want to devour you.  I want to sink my teeth into your flesh and make you cry out as I give you pleasure."  My voice turned into a growl as my finger found her wetness, sliding it to lubricate her already-swollen clit.

"I want to degrade you.  Treat you like a dirty little whore.  Use you like a cheap piece of gutter trash.  I want to ravage your body until you're unable to move," I growled, breathing heavily, running the hand that was not giving her clit attention into her hair, grabbing a handful, and slowly yanking her back so she was looking up at me.  Her body was reacting to the attention her clit was getting, and I could feel the wetness spreading to her inner thighs.

"I own you."

"Yes, Master," she whispered.

"You're my plaything."

"Yes, Master."

"Do you want fucked, little whore?"

"Please Master.  Please fuck me.  Please..."

I led her to the bedroom.  I laid down on the bed beside her, moving my mouth in close to her ear, as it was on the couch, and I continued to whisper.  "You want fucked, do you?  Not yet.  Not yet."


"I'll fuck you when I'm ready, slave."  I began moving my finder more rapidly as I exhaled, growling against the back of her neck.  She moaned, her body writhing, making me want to enter her...but I held back.

Not yet.

"Please, Master, may I cum?" she whispered.  "Please?  Please, may I cum?"

"No."  I pulled my hand away and caressed her body, from her thighs to her belly to her breasts, rolling her nipples between my thumb and forefinger, massaging her breasts, caressing downward again, teasing with my hand over her, making her writhe in anticipation.  Then I began again.  It wasn't long before she begged some more.

"Please, Master.  Please.  Please let me cum.  Please?"

I pulled away again.  "No," I whispered.  "You'll cum when I let you."  She gave a sexy, frustrated little whimper.  I teased her again, then moved my hand back between her thighs and pleasured her some more.

"Please!  Please Master....please may I cum?"

"Cum for me, little slut."

She came, arching her back, mouth opening in her ecstasy as if trying to moan, but her breath caught and she held it until the feeling subsided.  I didn't stop.  I kept rubbing her sensitive clit, and she begged again: "MastermayIcumPleaseMasterPlease..." she gasped.

"Cum for me," I growled.

She came again, her involuntary reactions making the intensity obvious.  Her ecstasy was almost painful.

I made her cum again.  And again.  And one more time.

And then, I couldn't wait any longer.  I had to use her sexy little body.

After I used her hard, I stroked her hair, her face.  I looked into her eyes, I kissed her lips, and I whispered into her ear, "I love you, little slave.  You still have a surprise coming, but I think you had fun tonight."

She smiled.  "Yes, Master.  That was...hot."

We fell asleep, naked and satisfied.

Sunday, January 18, 2015

BDSM Play 15: Leather belt, breath play, hard fucking

Privacy is hard to come by these days.  One of the kids is in cyber-school, so she's at home every day.  We mostly play after the kids are in bed, and we have to be relatively quiet, which limits us.   Last Monday, however, my slave urged the one who does school on her computer to go to the science center with her boyfriend, and we had the place to ourselves.

I wasn't feeling good, and I thought that might ruin things, but the more I thought about our privacy and what we could do with it, the more I gained the will and desire to play.  It's funny how that works; you're feeling under the weather, then something that brings out your passion makes you ignore whatever's bothering you, and you end up going at it harder than you do at other times.

I made her strip, then bend over the arm of the couch.  I took a leather belt out of the toy bag.  We have a few belts; most have metal studs.  However, the solid leather belt stings the most, and it's seldom since July that I've been able to give her a proper ass beating.  When we first started talking, it was one of those things she kept asking for from other men, and no one delivered.  I delivered--on our first night together, and on several occasions since...but since we moved, it's just too loud an activity.

No one could hear her cry out Monday.  No one could hear the leather connect with her lovely, round little ass.  No one.

I caressed her naked body, randomly slapping her ass, warming her up...then I took the belt and swung without mercy.  I knew she could take it; I knew she would love it.  I left one red stripe after another on her ass, till the whole thing was red.

"Count for me," I said.  "We're going for twenty."

"Yes, Master," she replied, sticking her ass out in anticipation.

I started whipping her ass again, five in a row on each cheek, then stopping to rub her ass, hoping she would forget her count and cause me to start over.  But no: she kept her count, even as her voice shook and she cried out in pain.

No matter.  Mercy wasn't desired or forthcoming.  I began to whip without a count, my cock hardening as her pain reactions became more obvious, her cries, louder.  Then came several hits in a row in the same spot, and:

"Master, I'm weak."

I yanked her up by her hair, looped the belt through the buckle (the prong removed) and put it over her head, pulling it tight around her neck--not too tight, but tight enough to lead her by it.  I led her back to the bedroom, pulled her down onto the bed by the belt, the pulled it back over her head.

"Spread your legs, slut," I ordered.  She complied without hesitation.  Good little slave.  "We're going to ten on your pussy.  Keep count, whore."

"I'm not going to make it to ten, Master.  That belt hurts so much," she said, looking up at me with her head turned in submission, pleading with me with her eyes as well as her voice.

"That's not your safe word.  Take it until you're weak."

"Yes, Master."

I whipped her pussy once, twice, three times...she closed her legs a bit.  "Spread your fucking legs, slave."  She complied.  Four, five...

"Master, I'm weak.  Oh, that hurts.  That hurts so much."

I took the belt and looped it again, put it around her neck again, then roughly fingered her clit.  She loves it rougher than most, and I was aggressive.  It wasn't long before she was begging permission to cum.

"Keep begging, little whore."

"Master, please let me cum.  Please?" she gasped.  "Please?  Master, please...oh please let me cum..."

"Cum for me, you dirty fucking whore."

She came, arching her back, her ass lifting slightly off the mattress, holding her breath.  I felt sure she was going to squirt; the orgasm was fairly intense.  It got her really wet, in any case, and I wanted so badly to enter her...so I pulled her roughly to the edge of the bed and rammed it inside her.

"You're so fucking wet.  Are you my little piece of fuckmeat?"

"Yes, Master, I'm a piece of fuckmeat."

I pulled the belt tight and cut off her breath.  She held her composure for awhile, then began to have the panic reaction I loved so much.  She grabbed at the belt, clawed at my arms, then finally, when she could take no more, tapped out.

I loosened the belt from her neck, fucked her harder, then pulled the pillow closer to her head.  She feared the pillow.  It's heavy.  It's memory foam.  She's had it over her face so many times in the last year or so, and she still fears it.  That fear triggered a gush of wetness that I could feel.

"You're afraid of the pillow."

"Yes, Master."

"And that fear turns you on so much..."

"Yes, Master, it does."

"Are you ready?"

"No, Master."

"Does it matter?"

"No, Master, it doesn't."

I put the pillow over her face and held it there, fucking her savagely, not letting up till she tapped out in panic--and panic she did.  Much worse than with the belt.  She cried out, and her muffled cries turned me on so much...but I held out.  I didn't want to cum yet.  I wanted her to feel like she'd been properly fucked.

I took the pillow off her face and smacked her in the head a couple times, then I grabbed her by the hair and fucked her as if I was in a rage.  I fucked her with all of the intensity I could muster.  In the meantime, she caught her breath...so it was time for the belt again.

I pulled it tight around her neck, and her panic reaction came sooner this time.  She didn't tap out right away, though; she actually came close to losing consciousness.  When her grip on my arm weakened and her reactions weren't strong anymore, I released the belt and grabbed her hair to snap her out of it.  I grabbed her hair with both hands and started fucking her with all I had.  I came inside of her, ramming it all the way inside when I did, filling her.

I laid down on the bed and pulled her close to me, stroking her hair, caressing her body.  The rest of the day, after the kids were home again, I spent time sitting with her on the couch, caressing her, showing her affection, loving her.

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

BDSM Play 14: Overnight hotel stay, spanking, leather belt, pussy abuse, hogtie with bamboo pole

My slave and I arrived at the hotel, our bag of toys in hand, excited to play outside of the home for the first time in months.  After we showered, I started by stripping and edging her with my fingers, bringing her close to orgasm five times...then I denied her, smacking her there instead.  When she was a lovely shade of red, I shoved my fingers inside of her wetness, first two, then three, then four.  I rammed them into her, knowing it would make her sore for later, for when I was inside of her.  When I was satisfied that she would be good and sore, I climbed up on the bed, straddled her face, my balls resting on her mouth, nose, and cheeks (they are big and can smother her if I lower myself onto her), and I began stroking my cock.

"I'm going to cum on your tits, abuse you some more, then I'm going to fuck your sore pussy for a long time, slut."

As I stroked it, I rubbed my balls on her face.  She moved to put her tongue in my ass, the dirty little whore...such a good little slave.  She knew her place.  I was good and clean from the shower, and I wouldn't have her tongue in my ass any other way, but it's a good feeling, and I love it when she does it.  I came on her chest and her neck, then went to get a towel to wipe her off.

I resumed fingering her.  She begged to cum again, and again I denied her.  Instead, I got several lengths of rope, a bamboo pole, and the bondage mittens.  I made her lay face down, then laid the bamboo pole across her shoulders.  I tied her arms to it, then I bent her legs and bound her ankles to it, as well.  I fingered her again, allowing her to cum this time.  I continued to give her clit attention, and again she asked me to let her cum.  I brought her to orgasm after orgasm, feeling her wetness grow.  At the same time, her labia were swelling because of the beating I gave her earlier, and her insides were sore from fucking her with all of my fingers.  She was ready.

I picked her up and put her on her knees, turned her around, then laid her down on the bed.  Her legs were spread from being tied to the pole.  I pulled her to the edge of the bed and shoved my cock inside of her.  The look on her face from the pain made me savage, and I began fucking her hard.  My hands closed around her throat while I gave her everything I had, slamming into her.  She began to lose consciousness, so I released her and smacked her head.  Her eyes went wide form the pain, and she begged me to stop.

"Please don't.  It hurts so bad," she gasped.

"'Please don't' is not a safe word, little whore."

"Please stop.  Please," she begged.

"I'm not going to stop, worthless fucking slut," and I continued to thrust hard, making it hurt.  "You love it when it hurts."  I slapped her.  "Say it!  You love it when it hurts."

"I do," she whispered.  "I love it when it hurts."

I kept going, getting hot, sweaty, and wild...but the ties were beginning to cut off circulation, so I stopped to untie her.  Instead of continuing to fuck her, I turned her over and spanked her hard, reddening her ass.  It had been some time since she'd had a good, loud ass beating, and I made sure she felt it.  I eventually grabbed a leather belt and made her count the strokes, then I turned her over and whipped her between her legs with it, on her already-sensitive labia and clit.

"Master, I'm weak," she moaned.  Her safe phrase.

I turned her over again and spanked her some more, this time with the crop.  Her safe word was only for the whipping of her pussy.  I worked her ass with the crop, reddening every inch of her beautiful, round ass that hadn't been reddened already.  Then I flipped her over and mounted her again, making her feel every inch of me, getting off on her pain reaction.  I put a pillow over her face to cut off her breath, and felt myself building up to orgasm.  I summoned every bit of energy I could to give her even harder thrusts, then I came inside of her, flooding her with my second load of the night.

We rested, laying next to each other.  I stroked her and told her that I loved her, and she responded in kind.  We decided to go and take a shower to get the sweat and other fluids off of us.  She washed my body as she always does, lovingly, ritually, thoroughly.  It's a ritual we've been doing since the night we met, and it feels strange when we don't shower together.  Once we were clean, we fell asleep next to each other, naked and satisfied.

The next morning, we went and had breakfast, came back, and played again.  I spanked her some more with my hand and the leather belt, then I fucked her.  She was still sore from the night before, and she was begging me to stop--though she didn't want  me to.  She loves it, and begs me to turn me on.  We cleaned up again and left the hotel happy.