Ending At The Beginning

The e-mail I sent him

Dear Amadeo,

I don't know when, after tonight, we will see each other again. Unless you visit me in the States, it could be quite some time. You know that monogamy isn't for me. It never was. I told you this before we met. But life so often surprises. I can't make any promises for what will happen if we do meet up, whether we will fuck. Today, however, I can state with absolute conviction that *I* *am* *yours*. I belong to you. This may never happen again. It behooves us to make circumstance our bitch.

I want your company - in bed and out of it. More than this, I crave your dominance. I desire to be a girl possessed. I require your strength. You can punish me for topping from below - please do! - but I insist upon it. I need you to be rough with me. I want to be totally fucked by you. Use my mouth. Use my cunt. Use my ass. Use them just as you please. I am three holes for your pleasure. I am a slut for one cock only. It's yours, Amadeo. You own the penis, so you own the woman. I am a plaything, a fuck-toy, the clay that you mold. I am your willing and submissive zero pound whore. I am to be taken hard and challenged. Be harsh with me. Do this. I want you to.

Leave your mark on my body. Beat my buttocks and my breasts. Pull my hair. Place bruises on my skin, bite marks, welts, hickeys. Sign your name on me with indelible ink after each of my orgasms. I want the evidence of the night to linger for days. I want to remember you as I sit uncomfortably in the airplane. I want other lovers to see what you have done.

Slap my pussy. Be brutal to my clitoris. Hold me down by the windpipe and tighten your grip on my throat while you claim my mouth with your tongue and my vagina with your penis. Fuck me with your feet. I will lick the soles and suck your toes afterwards. I will lap the hollows of your arms. Place your fist inside my cunt, twist it within me slowly, unball your fingers under my womb, stretch them out. Make your hand big inside. I am, after all, your fuck puppet. Have me rim your asshole. I will kiss your anus, layering the opening with spit to begin, lowering my tongue beyond the sphincter, slurping at your bung in the exact manner that you devour my pussy. If it is your wish, I will do this for hours. I want to please you so very much.

My vagina throbs when I think about compressing its muscles about your shaft. I am wet inside my panties. I touch myself and ramp the arousal to stratospheric heights.

Tie me down. Chain me up. Masturbate my cunt. I want to be on my knees for you. I want your penis in my mouth.

Piss on me. Come over me. I will wear your bodily fluids proudly. I will drink them down and thank you for the privilege.

I want your presence. I want to have your weight over my body. I want to be blanketed by your warmth. I feel small beside you and protected. I want to bestow on you what pleasure I can. This is my main purpose tonight, my sole concern. More so than the orgasms that render me speechless, more so than a ticket to subspace, more so than the memories that will linger for years, this shall be my joy.

I am an obedient girl. I will do what you say.

I know you will make me laugh. I expect you will make me cry. I will come so many times, with permission and without. We will say farewell, but we won't say goodbye. And who knows what may follow?

See you in one hour, lover.

Your dutiful slut,

Leah

~

The last date

What I wrote happened, more or less. It was a third consecutive night of sex. But such weekends are the reason I spend an hour at the gym every day.

We met up in the early afternoon for lunch, and then Amadeo gave me a tour of his office, which I had been asking to see. Unfortunately, even though it was a Sunday, there were people around. We kissed and touched a little, but our clothes stayed on. I enjoyed learning about his current projects. As I had errands to run, I left Amadeo, did the things I needed to do, dropped stuff off at the apartment in which I was staying, sent the e-mail I quoted above, and proceeded out again after I had eaten a quick dinner.

I traveled to Amadeo's apartment wearing sensible shoes, thigh high black nylon stockings, a winter coat, and nothing else. It was a curious feeling to be on the tube almost naked. On the escalator out of the bowels of the underground, the man behind me may have noticed what I wasn't wearing. He followed me up the stairs at the end, being sure to remain several steps behind me. The chill outside made my nipples peak. The cold air swirled between my legs. The shivers were worth it. Amadeo approved when the coat came off.

In the bedroom, he had me read my letter aloud. Fully nude and prostrate on the floor, I kissed his feet. As in the past, he tied me to the bed and whipped my pussy with a leather belt. He fisted me also. He fucked me to release, but stopped before he came. I have related incidents of a similar character before; I won't repeat myself.

The new ingredient was the caning. He has a rattan cane among the toys he keeps in the bedroom closet, but we haven't played with this much in the past. Amadeo had me bend over and clutch my ankles. He stood behind me. Through my legs, I saw his erection wave at me. He tested the cane. It wooshed through the air. His hands stroked the insides of my thighs and spread the moisture from my pussy over an expanse of skin. When he felt that anticipation had assumed a sufficient pitch, he hit me. He struck the backs of my thighs. The cane landed heavily on the fleshy part of the buttocks. It thudded on my back. The pain at the point of impact was sharp and stinging. It made me yelp. Often, he repeated several times over the same spot. The skin burned after the fact. The nerve endings seared. Following a particularly fierce impact, I involuntarily straightened. The cane cut sharply across the side of my thigh. The pressure on the small of my back compelled me down. His steely voice negated dissent.

I cried. The sobs racked my body. My breathing became heavy. I thought it hurt too much to continue. But I bit my lower lip and summoned the will to keep going. He asked me to ask him to hit me harder, and I did this in sentences that broke through a cloud of tears. In the end, he went to his knees. His tongue followed the lines of welts that marred my skin.

He turned me around and looked up at me from his knees. His tongue licked along the slit. Amadeo positioned me over the bed. I was on my back. The nerves beneath me throbbed. He forced my legs open and raised my arms above my head. He didn't tie me down, but instructed me nevertheless not to move. I knew what would follow. My hands gripped the sheets. I spread the legs wider for him. The cane slashed over my tits. He struck a dozen times, then worked the tops of my thighs. I screamed. He stuffed his boxer shorts in my mouth to muffle the sounds. Muscles in his upper arms and torso rippled. Although he tempered his strength on my breasts, no such quarter was given to my legs. It hurt immeasurably. But I wanted it. I could absorb this punishment. I wanted to be his good girl. Amadeo spoke in a soft voice that encouraged me even as the cane wounded. I concentrated on the regular, deep rhythms of his breathing. I closed my eyes and drew within my mind and entered a warm and submissive place. In the end, he dropped the wood and buried his face in my cunt and licked me gently. He sucked on the clit until I came. In the aftermath of the orgasm, which I kissed from his cheeks and chin, he fingered my bruised nipples. We chatted as he massaged my back and rubbed salve over my buttocks and thighs.

Amadeo and I started our friendship with an e-mail. He answered an ad on Craigslist. The fantasy he had proposed was too extreme for me, especially on a first date. The intelligence and humor in his message intrigued me, however. I replied, and we got to talking. His appeal grew. Amadeo's demeanor and attitude engendered confidence when we met. Early on, I had the sense that he could become a regular dom. I am so happy that he did.

Amadeo asked me again about his initial fantasy. I am still not ready for it. So we negotiated a compromise. As he made the preparations, I spent forty-five minutes curled over the rug on the floor. He had me chained to the radiator, which heated me nicely. (He prefers a cooler temperature than I like.) At the lowest setting, a vibrator buzzed agreeably in my cunt. I wasn't allowed to touch my pussy. I wasn't allowed to come. I flipped through the pictures in an art book while I waited. It distracted my attention from the still singing nerve endings. Amadeo walked over, called me bitch, and ruffled my hair affectionately. The tip of a finger stroked between my cleavage and trailed on a downward trajectory to my clitoris, which he pointedly did not touch. He suckled my nipples and dangled ropes of saliva into my open mouth. He took a dram of Laphroaig and let it spill from his lips into mine and then did the same with fizzy sparkling water. I stretched. My pussy and pubis were pleasantly sore. I was more aware of the stiffness in my thighs and back.

When he had finished cleaning, he showed me water in the depression of his hand, and then he tipped the hand to his lips and swallowed it. After that, he led me by the chain, which looped my throat and was secured by a luggage lock. I padded after him into the bathroom. He unfastened the lock. The chain tinkled to ground.

The side of my face squashed up against the bottom of the toilet cover. He directed the stream of piss against my face. I closed my eyes and felt the warmth of it pass over my eyelid and along the nose and cheek. The color was a pale yellow. When he had finished, I blotted the urine on the glans with my tongue and sucked the penis to hardness. He slipped a condom over the erection. I turned. My hands gripped the porcelain rim of the toilet, and I braced myself. The cock entered my pussy from behind.

I trusted Amadeo.

With my head in the bowl, which was full of urine and toilet water, he fucked me. My face touched the surface of the liquid. My hair became wet. His hand pushed hard against the back of my head to keep me in place. He flushed the toilet. The sudden suction of the water below took me by surprise. The jets of water splashed my face as the toilet filled up. His cock pounded my cunt at a furious pace. My face was in and out of the water repeatedly. I took rapid breaths through my mouth. He didn't hold my head underwater for long periods of time; I could, in fact, take in air easily.

Under the circumstances, Amadeo didn't last long within my cunt. He gave a massive groan and came in my pussy. It took fewer than five minutes from start to finish.

I removed the condom and inverted it and slurped the semen inside. I licked and sucked his shaft. Then, I dunked my head back into the toilet, closed my eyes, and washed my face with another flush.

My mouth filled with water, and I sputtered it back out. I dipped my hand in and collected more water, which I wiped over his chest and groin and thighs. Amadeo laughed. He kissed me. His tongue licked my cheeks. He bit the tip of my nose. The water sprayed from me as I shook my head like a dog. I lapped the drops that had splashed the rim. He moaned when he saw this. The erection resurrected itself. He reached for me.

~

Philosophical remarks

Sex is dirty. Sex is vulgar. Sex is rough.

As I had requested, the last meeting with Amadeo was exceptionally intense. It deviated in an unexpected direction. I was a willing participant throughout. I enjoyed myself. Though the bruises remained for a week, I have no regrets.

Water bondage is a fantasy that Amadeo has nursed for years. The symbolism mattered to him greatly. With my head bent over the toilet waiting for him to place his cock inside me, I thought how terrible could this possibly be when he had spent most of an hour cleaning until the white porcelain was fit to eat from and demonstrated this to me by drinking the water first? It absolutely would not hurt the way the caning had. After it was done, I was happy that I had been able to offer him something new.

I tend not to rationalize sex and submission along the axes of humiliation and degradation. Amadeo and I can play as hard as we do because I know that he respects me. The discussions we have, despite a sixteen year gap in age and experience, are the social interactions of equals. We happen to have complementary sexual tastes. We enjoy kink and the D/s dynamic in the bedroom. Crucially, all of this is only play. I am not a second class human being for surrendering control over the patterns of sex. He does not make me feel inferior to him. How could he when he licks the water from the toilet off my face?

When Amadeo and I started seeing each other, I had a boyfriend in Boston. My great worry during our time together was the possibility that he was getting too attached. To preempt this and to maintain a modicum of distance, I chose to restrict our encounters to one day a week. I also made sure he knew there were others in my sexual life. Still, our relationship flourished, and the friendship deepened. To me, he is one of the touchstones of the city, like the National Gallery or the Southbank Centre. I can't think of London without remembering the nights we shared. I miss him. For sexual fulfillment, for safe journeys to subspace and back, for sex as provocation and challenge and adventure, for kink as a lifeline, I am in his debt.

~

The next meeting

I have asked Amadeo to visit me in Boston. He said he would try to come in May. He also promised to be a better correspondent. I hope we pick up again where we left off.

In the meanwhile, I have David. We have met up twice since I have been back. He introduced me to electrostimulation. The sensations are novel. Over the weekend, he and I fucked until we could no longer remain awake, slept for a few hours, woke up renewed, and proceeded to fuck some more. My friend Ab, an irregular regular who teaches biology at a middle school, plans to take me to a swingers' club on St. Valentine's night. There's always something. I keep discovering new dimensions to sex.

I'm a lucky girl.

Republished with permission from Leah Lays London. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact us. Photo courtesy of Water Bondage.