Posing

Some things were not working out for Ms. T - most frustratingly her body had rebelled against our plans for fucking by starting her period an hour before I was due to arrive.

She emailed me while I was on the way, starting the message: "Consider this a test of your patience, resourcefulness and sense of humour..."

I did my best to live up to expectations.

The plan was to take some photos of her. We took a while to get around to the actual photographing. When I took the picture I had wrapped her whole torso in rope and tied her hands behind her back. She was blindfolded, kneeling in front of me on the bed, upright. She looked so good, it almost pained me to take the next step...

She had found, in some obscure corner of a sex shop, a roll of black rubber - 10 metres long, 10 cm wide, .5mm thick, sturdy. For one thing, it's remarkably heavy. I wound it around her, from shoulders to hips, encapsulating her in the dense stretchiness of the black rubber.

Everything except an opening across her chest, leaving her breasts and nipples exposed.

This was when the photo was taken. I photographed her. Breasts. Arse. Documented her while she was malleable and unselfconscious beneath the blindfold.

Then I put a pillow beneath her hips, arse raised, exposed. Slowly, I inserted a buttplug inside her. Stretching. She struggled agains the ropes, the rubber wrap... Enjoying the pressure of the toy pushing out against her confinement.

I think she was a little surprised when I stuck my cock in her mouth. Pleasantly. She sucked me with greed, which intensified when I told her: "I'd like you to make my cock nice and wet. Then, I'll remove the plug and sodomise you at my own leisurely pace." (She is intensely aural. Words and sounds are almost enough to make her come...)

I withdrew from her mouth.

A quiet "yes" came out when she heard me rip the foil off a condom, roll it on. "Yes."

I removed the plug. Replaced it with my cock. And called her "a good girl" while I fucked her.

Later, neither one of us seems to remember the experience, except vaguely, through a veil of intense pleasure. One thing she's absolutely clear on, however: She says that I lost the power of speech at some point, devolving to a rhythmic series "yes, yes, yes..." as I came.

Live Report (4)

Fourth, final email of the evening, sent to Ms. T, just to make sure she knew exactly what she was missing:

Jessica, indisposed again, sends her regards. She has just retracted a previous claim that my "bark is worse than the bite."

When she said this, I took it as a direct challenge...

I tied her up, quite securely in a spread seated position (wrists and ankles firmly tied), and gagged her.

Jessica was probably a little surprised when I put nipple clamps on her.

First I used the ones she had brought herself: a slim, delicate pair of butterfly clamps. I pulled on the white thread between the two, and played with her clit at the same time.

The clamps snapped off. Painfully. She growled loudly through the gag, eyes wide.

After a couple of rounds with these delicate, flimsy things, I brought out a slightly sturdier pair - clamps with a bit more bite, as it were. Again, pulling on the chain that attached one nipple to another while stroking her clit, enjoying the puddle forming beneath her.

I imagine there was some pain involved. At least the noise she made was convincing enough.

Being gagged, she didn't have many coherent things to say in the matter.

The orgasm she had seemed fun. "That I wasn't complaining about," she replied when I asked what she'd been trying to tell me through the substantial pink ball gag that had filled her mouth at the time.

But really, she wasn't complaining about the nipple torture either.

I fucked her face while she was still tied, disoriented and buzzing from the pain and the orgasms.

Just to make up for having messed her about earlier, I came over her tits, spreading the sticky mess around over her unconvincing protests.

Then I left her tied in the same position and started writing this email...

Live Report (3)

Because I happened to have a roll of bondage tape, I wound it around Jessica, pinning her arms to her sides. Then I pushed her backwards, so that she lay spread out in front of me in the middle of the bed.

I put some tight latex gloves on, smeared a bit of lube around, and proceeded to find out how many fingers I could fit inside her.

It took a bit of careful massaging, but I managed 6 (thereof two thumbs). After coming, hard, Jessica was appalled when told how many fingers had been involved. She worried that her cunt might be too big and accommodating.

I can vouch that she's as tight as ever, and enjoyed a very pleasant squeeze when I fucked her from behind, her wrists and ankles tied so that she was bent over the sturdy luggage rack we used as bondage furniture.

On the crest of my own orgasm, just about to tip over, I started telling her how little I care about her pleasure, and what a good fucktoy she is.

You know what that does for her...

Live Report (2)

Second email (to Ms. T, unedited). Written while lounging around with Jessica, drinking champagne from water glasses, in bed:

Jessica maintains she's won big this evening:

a) She got to take off her rubber pants (they did prevent all access).
b) She enjoyed masturbating while straddling me, sitting on my cock (blindfolded).
c) She was allowed to come. A few times.

There's always room for more. She speaks longingly of your tongue.

Live Report (1)

"I win," Jessica said, pleased with herself.

She was kneeling on the soft, beige carpet at the foot of a rather large hotel bed. Tied up, with her ankles attached to her wrists. Blindfolded.

At this moment she was under a mistaken impression. Taking advantage of the blindfold, I had stuck my cock in her mouth, instructing her to suck vigorously. I followed this with a lengthy simulation of masturbation right in front of her face, while she knelt, tied and very frustrated that I preferred wanking to the pleasures of her cunt.

It bears mentioning that she was wearing a curious item of fetishwear. A rubber knickers/girdle combination that hugged her curves in a most pleasing way, but closed off all access. The noise it made when I spanked her was interesting. And the impact seemed to have the requisite effect, despite the rubber covering her buttocks.

"Don't come…" she'd begged, a little worried.

I told Jessica that she was my toy for the evening. I would do whatever I wanted with her.

The disappointment was palpable when I "came" on her, spilling a palmful of lube on to her breasts after warming it in my hand for a while.

Blindfolded, she couldn't tell the difference. "You bastard. I wanted you to fuck me…"

"Yes. Too bad. I had other uses for you. Now enjoy the cum drying on your tits while I write this one email."

I had my mobile out, tapping away slowly, writing a little report to our mutual friend Ms. T. about Jessica's disappointment: "Jessica, currently a bit indisposed, wishes to tell you that she wins."

The contest in question was a strict ban on masturbation, imposed on Jessica 48 hours before our meeting was to take place. She passed the test, and was now expecting a reward.

So far, she'd merely received a little spanking and a lot of humiliation.

Exercise: Step on him, don't make holes

Make him shiver with anticipation. First, he should strip to his briefs. Not fully naked, just naked enough to feel thrillingly exposed. Then he should lie down on the floor. A bed is not an option.

Tell him to wait while you step into the next room to put on your stomping outfit. You couldn't go very wrong with black thigh-high stockings and a short dress to accompany the high heels. Of course it's all up to his fetishes and your pleasures.

Whatever happens later, this is how you begin: You are clothed and he is nearly naked.

When you eventually step back into the room walk around him, giving him a view up your legs. Your skirt or dress should be short enough to give him a promising glimpse, while leaving the bulk of the work to his imagination.

The shoes must be extreme. Slick, sharp, with a heel reaching for the heavens...

Now, when you start touching him with the soles of your shoes the trick is to use the toes of your feet as much as possible. Never actually step down with the full weight of your body - the heel should be regarded as a sharp instrument, and used with extreme care to tease and titillate. Start with hands, feet, arms and legs, stroking with the toe, then gradually increasing the sensation by using the sole of the shoe.

Start on the outer limbs and work your way inwards. His cock should be hard and throbbing when you reach his crotch. Run the toe up and down his cock, wriggle around his balls - just generally take your time touching him with your feet through the fabric of his underwear. Only then would it be time to step on his torso. Be careful with your balance, and start with one foot, gradually increasing the pressure as you transfer a little weight at a time from the toe to the heel against some soft muscly part of his chest or belly.

Take your time.

And then, take your reward by sitting down on his face and make him serve you with his mouth. This being your show, of course, once you're done stepping on him you can take your pleasures any way you like - so long as you tell me about it afterwards.

Three (12) - closing instalment

T gave herself over to her task. Sliding a couple of fingers inside Jessica accompanying her tongue flat on top of the clit, T looked like she was greedily satisfying a longstanding hunger - rarely indulged, never sated.

She was taking full advantage of her opportunity.

Jessica bucked against her face, grinding her hips against T's tongue and fingers with an urgency that I recognized, smiling to myself at the sense-memory of burying my own tongue deep within the very same sensitive folds.

But where I would have paused for a breather, broken off the swirling dance of tongue and fingers, T just kept going.

Even when Jessica had come a few times, her hips arching up, hands clawing the sheets... Even when she seemed exhausted, T kept going - like she was extracting the orgasms from Jessica's innards.

At some point I shed the delusion that I understood what they were doing, and merely paid attention.

T probably didn't either, at least not in some verbally communicable self-conscious way. It was a musical understanding of tempo, force - of cadences of fast and slow, hard and soft, gentle and brutal that undulated between the two of them.

(Weeks later, I enjoyed failing at imitating this, alone with Jessica. She appreciated the effort, but it was clear that if this was a race, I was the one-legged contestant).

The concluding rush of orgasm rolled in across Jessica's body and receded with a moan of exhaustion. T didn't so much stop as let Jessica go, releasing her to curl up in between the two of us while the sweat cooled on our skin.

For a moment that stretched as long as we could make it stretch, nobody made a move towards the edge of the bed. And no one mentioned what time it was.

Motivated by a superhuman sense of duty, Jessica finally reached out to check the clock.

While the receptionist downstairs summoned a cab for her, she pulled her clothes on and gathered her playthings with a laudable presence of mind that was alien to me and T, draped naked across the bed while Jessica made herself fit to set out into the darkened world of London at night.

When she was ready to go, she stood looking, smiling with the automatic authority that anyone with their clothes on will command over the naked. Before she leaned over to give each of us a kiss, her gaze lingered like she wasn't quite done with us yet, but there's no arguing with a waiting cab.