As is usually the case, I was up before Serafina this morning. My first action upon moving downstairs where our home computer stations are set up side by side, was to grab a Mexican Coca-Cola. Although I know it's not the best thing for me, Coke is my preferred morning drink. I know most people opt for something like coffee or tea first thing after waking up, but I've never really developed a proper taste for those beverages.
Because I am mildly diabetic, I only allow myself a single bottle per day. And, I drink the more expensive imported version because it's made with real sugar, rather than the high fructose corn syrup used to sweeten domestic Coca-Cola. I've noticed that high fructose corn syrup is far more likely to cause wild blood sugar surges, and I'd like to avoid those as much as possible.
My soda pop tasted exceptionally good this morning.
That's usually what I'd expect the morning after lovemaking, and that was certainly the case this AM. I'm guessing that my morning blood sugar is a little lower the morning after strenuous nighttime activity, and it makes my cravings for sweets even stronger. Regardless of the reason for the craving, as I swallowed that first gulp of carbonated sweetness, I reflected on the wonderful time Serafina and I had shared the night before.
Then, I sat down at my computer and played some time wasting games on Facebook. That's my usual course while my brain is just starting to function.
Next, I began downloading a few erotic videos from Sex and Submission. I just joined that site yesterday, the latest "porn purchase" here at Castle Samadhi. We've already had memberships with both Wired Pussy and The Upper Floor, all part of building a nice collection of quality erotic entertainment.
With some viddies downloading, it was time to pick up a book. My kindle was upstairs with Serafina, so I picked up a book from my collection, The Q Letters: True Stories of Sadomasochism by "Sir" John. It's an interesting enough little book that gives, in it's own way, a glimpse of what BDSM was like just as it was beginning it's rise to real popularity as a pastime.
Here's a brief quote, from of all places, the book's foreword:
The material has been chosen and edited carefully to make the story of John Q and the S/M scene as honest as possible. Which brings up the most important point of all . . . and that is that this book is honest. It is not a made-up letter to the editor written to appeal to the most prurient of interests. It is not a product of anyone's imagination or fantasy.The Eulenspiegel Society (TES) is an East Coast BDSM group based in New York which is probably the oldest group of it's kind here in the US. I choose that particular quote because it is part of what makes the book so interesting. Published in 1993, there's nary a mention of many elements that are considered to be essential by "New Guard" practitioners of BDSM.
Instead John Q is a real person.
This is a true story.
And, finally, this is what S/M is really about.
Board of Directors
New York City
No slogans like "Safe Sane and Consensual" or "Risk Aware Consensual Kink" (SSC and RACK). No munches, classes, or conventions where kinksters gather to discuss technique and philosophize about the inherent spiritual properties of rope. All of those things are yet to evolve when this book was put together. It made me smile and think back to a different time, as it also inspired.
It inspired me to go upstairs, grab my new English riding crop, and wake my slave/wife. I simply had to see if I could get Serafina to cum while suffering the distraction of a riding crop slapping her breasts. We've never tried that specific combination, but a voice in my head said it was worth more than a try . . .
I woke Serafina with gentle whispers in her ear, and I slowly ran my hands across her body. I stripped off the camisole she was wearing, and began tormenting her nipples. Although I'm not a poet, I could write poetry about Serafina's breasts, entire verses about the joys of her nipples between my fingers.
I then showed my slave/wife the riding crop I'd laid beside the bed before waking her. I have a few different crops, but this one is my newest, a pigskin leather crop imported from England. It's delicious just to hold, and lovely to use, a delightful little instrument.
Serafina anticipated that I would use the crop on her bottom, and began to move to a kneeling position, but I stopped her and told her to lay on her back instead. I saw her eyes widen just a little, as she realized I was planning to use the crop a little differently than she had first expected.
I started using the crop lightly on her stomach. I didn't strike hard enough to mark, instead I was using just enough force for the crop to be on the edge between erotic and stinging. I then moved my efforts down to her inner thighs, using a little more force. I created a line of carefully spaced "crop-bites" down the center line of her inside right thigh, then made sure the left thigh matched.
I like to take my time with implements like the crop, so my slave/wife probably spent about a half hour with her thighs spread wide while I enjoyed applying little swats to her sweet sensitive inner thighs, a delicious position because it leaves her so exposed to my gaze. Few things get me more excited than using a flogger or crop, so I probably don't need to tell you that I was more than ready myself for the final act of this little drama.
Serafina was deliciously wet, so when I slid up to enter her, I found myself buried balls deep with a single purposeful stroke. This elicited a nice moan from my slave/wife who immediately began thrusting back with a delicious hip rolling movement.
I often tease Serafina that she's like a little boy, in that I often barely get inside of her and she's instantly ready to orgasm. That might have something to do with the teasing and torment I provide, as it's my philosophy and style to keep my slave/wife in a highly excited state of sexual desire as much as humanly possible. If my hands aren't under her shirt tormenting her nipples several times a day, I'm just not having a good day . . .
Not wanting to let her get too close too quickly on this particular occasion, I began using my lovely English riding crop on her breasts, striking around the edges of her nipples in time with my thrusts. Serafina's nipples got very hard very fast, and I made sure to point that out to her, telling my slave she couldn't deny her desires, that her body was betraying her love of being whipped and cropped.
Serafina's still coming to terms with being a masochist, it's not something she'd like to admit about herself. Her body has an interesting reaction to strong stimulation, as it tends to intensify her orgasms, but she doesn't always process the intense stimulation as pain at that point. Sometimes she perceives what might be best described as radiating bolts of ecstasy.
I've tried explaining to her that is exactly what makes her a masochist, she's perceiving extremely strong sensations as ecstasy, that the sensations would be absolute torture to some people, and instead of enhancing their orgasm, the extreme sensation would prevent most individuals from experiencing any pleasure at all. To me, that is the essence and very definition of an individual who is a physical masochist.
Serafina's perspective is a bit different, she almost invariably brings a unique viewpoint to the table, as she's fond of saying - "It's not pain I like Master, but boy those sensations you create are delicious and wonderful, can I have more?"
What can I do at that point? I usually just roll my eyes and pinch her nipples hard enough to make most women scream bloody murder, feeling it make her instantly wetter, like a little faucet has been turned on. Why argue the finer points?
This particular morning, it wasn't fingers pinching, but instead it was my riding crop applying little bites to her breasts, a sensation Serafina found to be quite distracting. After 15 minutes of this play, Serafina's breasts were starting to get a bit of color from the cropping, which was distracting her further, as I think her mind was feeling assaulted from watching her breasts being struck.
I had my slave/wife lay back, close her eyes, and put a hand between her legs. I increased the pace of my strokes (and strikes) and instructed her to get those fingers working, and before 30 seconds were up I heard a familiar refrain . . .
"Master, may I please cum?"
I was silent.
"Oh Master, please may I cum, PLEASE?"
Still no reply.
"Oh God, Oh Master, I need to come, please, I'm begging you . . . "
Her voice trails off as I again hesitate.
I make a mental note to address her unacceptable and profane use of the Lord's name when addressing me in bed, before I reply with a single pronouncement . . .
"Now!" I say.
She complies . . . It's not like she had any choice at this point. Her body's response to my guttural reply was long ago trained and conditioned.
I grin and shake my head. Hell of a way to start my morning! I hope your's, my dear reader, started just as well . . .