The problem with not being a millionaire is that often I have to have the quiet sex. The quiet sex is the sex you have when you share a flat with someone, or the person you’re fucking is sharing a flat with someone, or (if you’re not a Londoner) the sex you have in your huge-yet-affordable semi-detached house when your parents happen to be visiting.

(more…)

Role play, like having a threesome, is incredibly tricky to do in a way that keeps everyone happy. Whether you’re a fireman, sex slave or naughty schoolgirl you’ll always have a certain idea in your head of how the scene will play out, and your partner(s) will have their own ideas. Very rarely does everything combine perfectly, meaning that there are often surprises.

Usually I rage against surprises – I have very specific fantasies, and the best sex is usually that which comes closest to the things I imagine when I’m alone at home with my knickers halfway down my thighs, scratching an itch I’ve been thinking about since a very specific scene popped into my head. But sometimes surprises can be good – things I’d never have considered doing or imagined could be hot. The right kind of person can show me things I’d never have wanted to do in a way that makes me achingly desperate to do them.

Surprises

It started exactly as I’d imagined it would. They came to the bedroom – a boy and a girl – and accosted me, berated me, called me a bad girl. They bent me over the side of the bed – she beat me with a leather strap, while he held me down, pushing my face into the bedclothes so I wouldn’t scream too loudly.

They took me downstairs into the lounge, where they had an array of equipment laid out – straps, whips, floggers, and (shudder) canes. They took it in turns to punish me – one lifting my skirt and pulling my knickers down while the other held my head in their arms and crooned words of comfort.

Slap

You’re a good girl. You like this, don’t you?

Slap

Don’t you?

Yes.

Slap

They stripped me and examined me, touching me all over, and hitting the parts that were softest.

Slap

And I loved it. I felt her hands all over me, and I saw his cock throbbing and pushing against the tightness of his trousers. I was wet and burning with pain, and desperate for him to fuck me. For her to fuck me – for someone, anyone, to push something solid into me and let me clench my cunt around it as I came.

They dragged me back upstairs to the bedroom, and I thought I’d get what I wanted.

‘Please. Please fuck me.’

He slapped me in the face and told me no. And she giggled with laughter that genuinely scared me. She was dominant and cruel, but did everything with a twinkle in her eye. She did things not because she was playing a game, but because she liked doing them. She liked scaring me with stinging cane-strokes that were just a bit too hard. She liked to show me that being submissive wasn’t just about taking pain that felt good. She’d beat me into a trembling pile of arousal and fear. She was, in short, spectacular.

‘Please fuck me?’

‘No.’ Said with conviction and more than a hint of cruel delight.

‘We’re not going to fuck you. Lie face down on the bed and pull your knickers down.

‘I’m going to give you an enema.’

I didn’t believe her. I didn’t really even know why an enema was supposed to be hot. I was horrified and humiliated and horny and confused, but that didn’t prevent me from being desperately curious. So I did as I was told. I lay face down on the bed, pulled down my knickers, and she gave me an enema.

I’ve never been so disgusted with myself and so aroused at the same time. When she’d filled my ass with water, she told me to stand in the corner of the room with my hands on my head. My legs shook and my stomach turned over and I counted down the agonising minutes while the two of them chatted. They discussed me, they dissected me, they contemplated beating me again. They appraised my tits, my arse, my thighs, the fresh, stinging whip marks across my buttocks and my back.

And I waited, and waited, and waited until I thought I was going to faint.

When they finally gave me permission to go I could barely walk. The stress of keeping everything in, holding myself straight and tight and still for what can’t have been more than five minutes, made it hard for me to move and gave me an agonising throb deep in my stomach that told me I needed to come.

When I finally made it to the bathroom, I sat in shame and miserable unsated lust, listening to her giggling outside the door.

Number 14 wears leather gloves. When we go out for dinner – we always go out for dinner – he makes a show of taking them off and putting them on the table beside him. He’s calm. I’ve never heard him raise his voice, or get agitated, or even visibly excited. Number 14 is the domliest dom I know, and I’ve never had sex with him.

Why is he on the list? I don’t usually include people I haven’t actually fucked, but the things he’s done deserve more credit than the catch-all title ‘play.’ Play can be anything from a quick spanking at a party to a full-blown throat-fucking in a dark alley. The latter, I think, deserves a bit more credit.

He likes to find places that are private but public. Hidden nooks and doorways where he can press me into the wall and order me not to make a sound. It’s incredible what a pair of leather gloves and a calm demeanour can do to stop me from making the noises I’d usually revel in.

On the hunt for one of these places once he found what looked like an abandoned room just outside the entrance to a block of flats – just a door in a wall that took us into a place no bigger than a cupboard, with broken glass bottles on the floor and no lights.

He put his hand over my mouth and whispered to me not to make a sound, then yanked my skirt up and my knickers down and touched me until I was trembling and could barely stand.

Every time someone walked past the door, or I breathed too loudly or made any noise, he grabbed my throat and stopped me breathing until they’d gone. He kept doing this, then stopping, then doing more, then stopping, until I was so weak and frustrated that I was crying, and had we been somewhere no one would have heard us I’d have been begging him to fuck me.

When I got to that point he pushed me down until I was squatting on the floor and shoved his cock into my mouth, always maintaining his total silence and calm.

He held my hair with his leather-gloved hands and shoved himself right into my throat. It didn’t take long – after a few minutes, just as I started to choke and bruise, he came hot and hard into the back of my mouth.

Ever the gentleman, he walked me to the train station and held me up when I stumbled.