As We Mean to Go On

♦ Recently I joined in Sinful Sunday with a picture of me at New Year’s Eve: breasts fully on display and my neck firmly wrapped in a lovely collar. Go ahead, click that link, then you’ll be able to see what I’m talking about. I called it a tease. I promised to tell you the full story soon. This is that.

We’d gone to a party, our whole house. It’s a tradition. Our friends nearby, ex-members of my geeky society, have been hosting a New Year’s party since I first came to Cardiff. It’s great. OK, it’s a little awkward since me and Fractal split up and he and the friends he managed to poison still go, but he’s fairly easy to avoid and frankly these days I don’t pay him and his unplesantness much notice. It’s just great to be around people we don’t see too often, fellow geeks, friends. That said, I’d been up early that morning and was tired. So tired that not long after midnight I was nearly asleep on my chair and feeling a little grumpy.

Maybe I was a tad jealous of the snogging pair nearby who’d just hooked up and still got to feel the thrill of the chase? Maybe I was feeling a bit of post-midnight blues? Maybe I was just dog-tired and pretty drunk? Either way, I’d had enough partying for one night and me and Crush decided to call it a year.

I thought I marred the start of the year a little with that slight bit of sulk, but luckily Crush soon put things right.

As I told you in my earlier teasing post, I’d asked Crush to put a collar on me for the party. Nothing too out-there, nothing too obviously kinky. The collar I chose is slim, pretty comfy and probably passes fairly well as a choker to those who don’t know any better. I like it, though. It was one of our few purchases at Erotica 2011 and it’s very pretty. And frankly, any collar put on me by Crush makes me feel submissive. So he collared me and I wore it happily all party.

When we got home in the wee hours, we went straight upstairs with the intention of bed. I took my clothes off, but, always one to tease and provoke where possible, left my collar on. It looked sexier, I knew, to be naked in just my collar. To be naked except for what he had put on me. And besides, I couldn’t take it off myself. He had put it there and if I took it off myself it just wouldn’t mean anything. If I could take it off myself, I could’ve done so at any time.

It was there because he had marked me with it and I was his to un-mark.

I got into bed and pulled the covers up coyly as I looked at Crush. He got up and went over to get the light.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” I hinted.
“No,” he replied.
“Are you sure?”
“Aren’t you going to take this off?” I said, pointing at the collar still around my neck.
“No. You’ll have to keep it on all night.”
“Really?” I said, surprised.
“If you’re a good girl I’ll take it off you in the morning,” Crush said, turning off the main light and walking back to the bed by the light of our Triceratops lamp.

My mind might have actually boggled. It was just so unexpected! I had to check he meant it and asked several times if he did. He did. I was overwhelmed. It might sound silly, but we’d never done anything like this before and, whilst he knows I like him to collar me, he had no real idea this’d be something I’d enjoy. Heck, I had no idea either. It had never occurred to me. I loved it, instantly. It was submissive. It was sexy. Fuck, it was romantic.

Just the fact that it was something he’d decided by himself, that he’d thought I would find sexy, that he’d spontaneously decided to give me to for me to enjoy, was wonderful. He gave me this. And he’d thought of it all by himself.

It sounds a little patronising, maybe, but I know I’m the kinkier of the pair of us and the more adventurous too. Crush isn’t boring by any measure, this alone shows that, but he isn’t as into kink as I am. It’s hard to explain properly, but I’m sure you’ll get what I mean. The fact that he’d thought to engage with my kinks without any hinting or nudging from me, the fact that he’d done something he thought I’d love because he thought I’d love it and nothing more (except maybe vicarious arousal and the fact I look damn hot in a collar), was just incredibly lovely. As I say, romantic. Honestly, he nearly had me in tears.

We kissed passionately and before long Crush had worked his kisses down to my nipples. He sucked and licked and made me wriggle under his mouth before swinging his legs over my chest and straddling me.  He was high up on my chest and pressing his erection to my lips. I love this so much. I love him dangling his erection over my face and rubbing his cock and balls around my mouth, letting me lick and kiss and suck wherever I can hurriedly find opportunity. I’m a gamer, so I’m used to hearing the word “teabagging” negatively, but despite that word only really referring to the balls, it’s what I think of when he does this to me and I can’t help but see it in a positive way. It’s not a blowjob, for he doesn’t get a lot of focused lick and suck, it’s just him rubbing himself over my mouth and face and me loving every second of it.

I chase his cock like a cat after string and frantically kiss and lick at him as he rubs himself on me. Teabagging. It’s not an elegant word, but it works for me. What else should I call it?

What he called me, though, was more interesting. “You’re being a very good slave”, he said to me and, though I’d have preferred ‘slut’ in this case, I loved that too.

“What do you want?” Crush asked me, knowing I wanted to be fucked.
“You.” I said, rather too coyly given my position.
“More specifically,” He prompted, enjoying making me say it.
“I want you inside me.”

Crush moved down my body, but didn’t quite stop the teasing. Instead of my face, he now rubbed his erection over my shaved pussy lips, driving me wild with frustrated desire. He asked me, then, to beg him to be inside me. I did so, calling him Sir.

“No,” Crush said with a glint, “call me Master”.

I did, begging again for him to fuck me and he grinned. He pulled my legs up to get a better angle at my pussy and pressed his cock against my opening. Just then I remembered the amount of alcohol we’d both had and realised I’d probably need a little extra help to manage his girth inside me. I reached for my beside cabinet and grabbed the lube there, passing it to Crush who doused first his cock, then my sex with it. He pressed at my opening again and I felt myself open up to him, felt his cock split me and his hardness begin to penetrate me.

I groaned as he eased himself inside and thought about calling out for mercy as he made his first few strokes. They were eager and his size was too much for that eagerness at that moment. But I thought better of it. I was his slave, he was my Master. If it hurt a little for me, so much the better. I wouldn’t dull his pleasure with my few little aches and moans.

It wasn’t long before I adjusted to the strength and penetration of his thrusts and all they were to me was pleasure. Pleasure and love. He fucked me hard and fast and unrelentingly, pinning me down by the neck using his forearm, leaning onto my throat as he pounded me. He called me slave. He told me I was good. He pinned me by the neck and fucked my pussy as if he would bloody well show me what the new year had in store for me. And I hope it does, oh, I hope it does.

Soon we were spent and his juices were seeping out of my pussy, mingled with my own and with lube. I wore the collar still. I gasped for a proper breath after his arm and my climax had taken mine from me. When we finally went to sleep, I still wore the collar. I’d been good, but I had to be good until morning before he’d take it from me. We slept the cosy sleep of the drunk and the fucked.

It was a good start to the year. ♦

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