The chain clinks and my heart melts

There is definitely something hot about the sound of a chain, not a dainty one that suspends a pendant, but a heavy chain like my collar.

I love it when my Husband grabs my collar, whether that is simply holding his hand across the back of my neck during a passionate kiss, or the sound of it cinching tighter and tighter if he pulls on the padlocks. Just recently I have discovered a love of pleasing him, rather then simply being a selfish lover. I have discovered I actually rather enjoy giving him blow jobs and he certainly isn’t complaining. Over the last few months we have ended up having more oral sex than standard sex, yay.

Why am I telling you this? Well, I’m not really sure, but as a lady that used to Hate giving head, I guess I’m writing about this for myself. It used to make me feel physically sick, the idea of ramming a penis into my face. The idea of swallowing his semen, gagging as my tonsils get covered in salty sticky goo, it was vile to me.
But now I enjoy it – I enjoy watching his body move and react, the glint in his eyes, that look of almost pain as he climaxes. It is rather bloody satisfying if I’m honest with you all. That feeling that my mouth can do so much to his entire body, almost make him dance. When I try to make love, be that loving gentle sex or fast and furious fucking, I feel awkward and clumsy. I really cannot move my whole body as easily or gracefully as my tongue.

But my Husband had to go one better, and be in charge still. He will grab my hair, and direct my head down the bed. Then after several times taking the control back by using my ponytails, he started using my collar. Grabbing my collar firmly and pulling my face up his shaft, and pushing me back down with the other hand. Up and down, and up and down, harder and harder until I am stifling tears from the pain of my gag reflex versus forced deep-throat.

It is glorious, the sound of my chain clinking as my head bobs up and down fast. My padlocks hit his balls, and my nose bashes on his belly. It feels like it lasts for hours, but it is just minutes. I roll my eyes to the side and glance in our big mirror – the joy on his face would make me smile if I was able to, but, yanno, penis stuffed in my mouth and all that.

I lift my head away after he cums, and he releases his grip. I snuggle up with my head on his chest, he will stroke my hair, wipe my tears and kiss my forehead. In those moments, I feel special, I feel overwhelming love from him. It’s not just sex, it’s so much more than that. It’s like blind trust, the pulling of my collar, (which is a symbol of trust and love) and restricting my breathing. All the time I could tap out (safeword) and stop it, but I don’t.

There is a beauty in brutality.

Am I offering or demanding?

I thought I was offering myself to you, Husband. I came downstairs in a sheer lace nightie, so short my white lace pants were on show. I was all cuffed and I had even put a lead on.

I went in to the kitchen, chains rattling as I walked. I washed up, in full view of nosey neighbours and I made you a cuppa, because, well, we are British and I wasn’t planning on sleeping soon.

As I bent down, I gave him the cuppa and point out I’m HIS. Implying strongly I want to be used. He looks at me and says “Are you asking or demanding?” Then he carries on reading! Ouch! It was an offer, almost naked – just enough fabric so I don’t shiver but all the access still. Collar, wrist and ankle cuffs all with D loops to tie me or drag me easily. I think even a vanilla bloke with a pulse would go for that kind of offer from their partner.

I offered myself to you, without conditions or exclusions, my body and mind placed in your hands Husband. Yes, okay, I wanted fucking eventually, but my main gift was being a willing victim. A bit over willing.

Without warning a few minutes later you say “I’m going upstairs. When I come back I expect you to have moved the furniture“. We have a leather foot stool, it’s rather large and it’s our spanking bench hidden in plain sight. I turn on a Motorhead CD to disguise noise a teeny bit and to make a nice mood.
“Now to see how much you trust me Wife” he says as he is in the last few steps down stairs. As he walks I recognise a few things, rope, floggers and the big blindfold. “KNEEL!

Where Dear, isn’t not a clear instruction?” He didn’t seem mega impressed, and I was directed to my knees at the bench. The blindfold was tied on, rather fucking tightly too. Face down in the leather, I feel rope pass my wrists, he runs rope between my ankles and wrists, using the cuffs, this prevents me from full movement but still keeps me down.

Several toys struck my arse, and his hands. Spanking me with spiked gloves and then massaging me with the vamp gloves I crafted for him. I’m not sure wether to scream safe words all over the place or just cum hard. I’m guessing I chose the later as I kind of spaced out in happy pain, and bit of almost primal sighs and noises. I was genuinely dribbling into the leather… I’ve no idea how long I was face down but I know there was blood. Gawd I love it when I feel tiny drips of blood roll across my hot flesh.

He pulls my ropes to make me stand, “follow me Wife” the ropes are still on my wrists and he escorts me to the stairs. He says “open your mouth” and makes me carry my pants in my mouth. I’m still totally blind and follow him up the steps… I’m trying to count my steps so I don’t fall or rebreak any bones in my feet. He kindly informs me when I’m on the last step though. Into the bedroom we go. “Lie down” so I lie diagonally across the bed “WIFE! You know that is wrong” so I mumble a bit and lay in the centre of our bed, head on the pillows, face side up. The ropes get removed but I’m not allowed to touch him yet.

He kissed me and his wandering hands send me into a few orgasms. Infact he plays so damn well the duvet becomes wet. Holding me in a big, full body shaking orgasm for what felt like hours. I desperately want fucking, hard.

Husband says “if you want fucking, pick a hole” so I flip around and go down on him. My stomach is against his, and I’m moving my whole body up and down on him not just moving my head. I really want his hands inside me, or his face. The idea of his fist going inside me was winding me up, getting more than a bit carried away I stretch his balls and bite his penis. I drop hints, I push down harder if fingers went inside, but the swine just wouldn’t finish me off like that. Instead I’m fingered up the pussy and arse. I swallow for him and we fall asleep in each others arms.

Still the question lingered, am a demanding or offering?

What a way to wake up

This morning we were supposed to wake up reasonably early but I was sleepy. I didn’t want to wake up. I was not waking up. Husband shuts the bedroom door and grabs a few toys, my eyes slightly open and I realise his intentions. I smirk in a cheeky way, which basically means “go on then”. 

I as a bit blurry and can’t really remember what happened first, but first thing I was being flogged. A nice gentle (almost tickling) flog. He didn’t stay gentle for long though. The wooden spoon, a spatula, the riding crop, a looped rope flogger, the jute rope flogger, bare handed spanking and who knows what else get used on me. Mainly my back and shoulders, but also my arse and legs for a short while. 

Whilst the crop was slapping on my skin it was hurting but it was a lovely pain. I wanted to tell him to hit me harder, but I didn’t want to speak. I was very happy, in honesty I was having a weak orgasm from the crack of pain. The noise, the feeling… I’m going to have bruises but I’m past caring. I am pretty much begging with my body language, despite being non verbal right now.  I want him.

I start talking, but only to be demanding. I want fisting, I pretty much need that release, I am too wound up. Sex alone ain’t going to cut it, I need more. He does as he’s told, even though people think he’s the dominant. I get him where I want him, cold lube on his arm and I am having fun. It’s my period, so things are a bit more intimate. I lose control, albeit not completely, he is my boss right now. It feels like only a few minutes to me, but I lose all sense of time when excited, then he orders me to move to my knees. If I drop his hand as I struggle to flip my body over he will stop, utter denial. Being left like this IS torture. 

I move slowly and carefully, clenching every muscle I can to keep hold of him. Success, I’m proud of myself, but no chance to celebrate. Barely chance to breath in fact as he rewards my efforts with pretty vicious thrusting. I’m on my knees, face down in our pillows, my hands are down just in front of my head. For a few seconds I wish he would be gentle, but then the euphoric feeling hits and that idea is gone. I’m in sexual heaven, and my fingers are scratching down our leather headboard. I cannot focus on anything, all I can do is scream. He spanks my arse with his bare hand, and my hand wanders to my crotch. I tough myself as he fists me, I’m screaming in pleasure but I want to lose control. 

Husband lets me fondle myself for a short time and then grabs me by my collar, gently at first. Then he pulls harder, he disrupts my breathing and time feels like it is slowing down. The pressure in my lungs, the delightful weakness throughout my body after a long and sustained orgasm, then the dizzy feeling from oxygen deprevation kicks in. Just at the right time he released my collar, I breath deeply and scream in delight.

It wasn’t negative screaming, I’m not worried, I was just very in the moment. He could hurt me badly, in this state I am pretty vulnerable, but I trust him completely, I’ve no need to be afraid. I know that if I shout a safe word he will stop immediately. Trust allows for some wonderful sex that’s for sure. 

When he decides I’ve had enough he pulls his arm from inside me and starts scratching my back with metal claws. My blood is on his hands. It feels like he wrote his initials on my back before going for a more wavy random scratching style. I love the feeling of claws – like little knives moved with care all over my body. They are cold metal but cause heat on my skin when he’s done. They aren’t actually super sharp, if used right they feel almost blunt, but if they are pulled across your flesh fast enough they feel delightfully sharp. He moves down and also scratches my arse and legs, in a more sensual way, tickling almost, he rolls me over. I’m now on my back. Husband is sucking then slapping my tits, it’s hurting but I am laughing, I enjoy playtime pain. He even slaps my face. 

I plead for sex, I am half expecting to be forced to beg, I am desperate to feel him inside me, for him to cum inside me. Missionary position – yes okay, it sounds dull but it so was not boring. It was loving, and close, and sweaty, the perfect fuck. But he doesn’t stay – he pulls out and says I should get on my knees. Doggy now, this I like a lot. He again grabs me by my collar, moving me into the position that causes the deepest penetration. Pulling hard, this sends me into another orgasm.

Eventually we stop playing and just hug. I’m not sure how long we hugged, but then we had a shower together to wash away the blood, sweat and spunk. We get dressed ready for our vanilla day. Which today was going to a rugby match with friends. Back to boring…. 

What am I doing?

Just a few days ago I shot down my own hard limit of fisting and made husband wear me as a glove, since then boom I’m a fucking sex addict.

This evening I told him honestly that I was sore from playing so rough recently bruised ribs from flogging, bruises in a nice pattern on my tits, extremely sore at the entrance to my vagina from being greedy, finger mark bruising on my ankle where he grabbed me so wonderfully tight. All the ouchies are from consentual fun and violence. I’m not blaming him or mad at him at all.

But I told him I wanted straight, normal, good old vanilla love making tonight. I made him promise to ignore demands for violence, fisting, glass toys, or anything else that would cause more pain. You see, when he excites me I make poor choices, I don’t think ahead. I only think in the moment. It means I end up hurt because when aroused my pain threshold increases. It’s his fault!

When we were in bed before anything started we had an argument (about housework) rules gone – it’s now make up sex which makes it more passionate. He listened kinda, he respected my request from gentle. I sat on his face and he moved his soft, and skilled little tounge about. It felt good after almost being torn down there yesterday. (A sexual encounter I didn’t write up, let’s just say ice cubes inside me are great, and so is the gush of water after they melt. But fisting with ice cubes, not so wise. It had made me contract so fucking tight I was as snug as a virgin. His hand didn’t fit, but I was tied up and not thinking sensibly. I just wanted the orgasms, fuck the pain,¬†bad idea)

After being on his face for a while he suggested if I wanted standard vanilla sex I need to stop sucking him and get off his face as he was getting excited himself. I jumped off so fast as I really like to feel him cum inside me. I’m so horny I NEED him to cum inside me, to allow me to feel finished, satisfied, to be done and calm.
He lays over me like he’s going to do missionary, but I put my foot to his chest to stop him so I can rest both feet over his shoulders. This gives a much better level of penetration, and I was desperate to feel him.
We have fun, not rushed or kinky at all…. just making love. It was a good shag. I should have been satisfied, but I wasn’t.

I said I was NOT done, and he’s strong at first, reminding me I’d said¬†no already. But I’m hyper, I beg for a fisting, I grab his hand and force him low. He submits of course, does as he’s told, and I have several orgasms. I am so horny, so wound up that I’m leaking past his arm and actually getting a damp arse from squirtting. It’s ridiculous, I have no control whatsoever and I’m pleading to be hurt. He’s changing between small, nice, delicate movements and really pounding me. I love being played with after he’s cum in me, I always have, but this is another level. I’m away with the faeries, shouting, moaning, grunting and screaming. Also a lot of grateful swearing. He decides I’ve had enough, I beg him to change his mind but its withdraw time.

My nagging means I twist his arm into more selfish sexual pleasure. He wanks me with a glass dildo and shoves a thumb up my arsehole. Squealing again, I’m enjoying this. More orgasms follow. I’m very lucky, I often have multiple orgasms from husbands hand-work. I grab his cock and start returning the fun, then he asks if I can finish with a blowjob. I agree, with how selfish I’d been in bed this evening I figured this should be just for him. I move down the bed, he can’t touch me. His turn. I move deep, I bite, I tease and I make him squirm happily. I can see him biting his lip, arching his back. I love him like this. He cums again and I move back up the bed for hugs.

It’s 4am when we finish, he’s got to be out of the house early in the morning. He’s going to have to manage at the gym in the morning on two hours sleep. And he probably is covered in bite and scratch marks. His personal trainer is not going to go easy on him either.

Sorry for stealing your sleep (again) but I did make you promise to stay vanilla, to reject my kinky demands. I blame you, you were weak, and I am a brave idiot.

I am going to regret this when the horny/hyper buzz wears off.

I think I’m a sex addict.