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| whore of unknown origin (photo source not known) |
She has a standing pledge to have them pierced at my discretion. She actually wants them pierced. But, I’ve never taken advantage of the offer because I wanted her to enjoy plenty of nipple torture au natural first.
We were discussing the actual piercing, as we lay in bed together. OK, I guess that the term "discussing" might be a bit of a misnomer. I was whispering thoughts into her ear. Talking about where we might have the piercings done, and then sketching out nasty scenarios. For instance, threatening to make her give me head in the parking lot just before going in for the piercings.
I was digging the side/edge of a fingernail into one of her nipples, to simulate the feel of the piercing needle just before it cuts into flesh, when I was struck by odd inspiration. I added that I’d was going to be sorely tempted to write something nasty on her chest too.
Sera’s not into humiliation, so that thought was a little too much for her to bear. It wasn’t long after that she broke into tears from the frustration (I’d been playing with her nipples and body for hours without giving her permission to orgasm) and thought of being forced to do something too humiliating.
I held her close, and assured her that I’d never require more from her than I knew she was capable of delivering, and suddenly everything was fine. It wasn’t so much the thought of the actual humiliation that was bothering her, she told me, it was more the fear that I’d actually act on the threat, and that she’d then be unable to bring herself to complete the task.
It’s very revealing that her real fear isn’t the pain, or the humiliation. The fear my Serafina finds devastating is the simple fear that she won’t be able to please me. Her worst fear is that I might ask something of her and she fail to fulfill my desire.
I know that some dominants enjoy occasionally setting a submissive up to fail. Heck, I know folks who are entirely vanilla in the bedroom, yet I see them relish the failure of a rival, or other individual they do not like. To me that kind of behavior smacks of real sadism, the destructive kind, and as such it is of no real interest to me. In fact, it’s rather appalling.
Yes, I identify as both a dominant, and as a bit of a sadist. I love to play with the boundary, along the edge, of pleasure and pain. But, the “sadism” I practice is one of sensation, not of true cruelty, devastation, or destruction.
Last night I reduced my slave/wife to a mass of quivering muscle and almost agonizingly sensitive nerve endings. My very proud wife, the woman who wouldn’t dream of begging for anything under different circumstance, was reduced to begging for my cock. Reduced to gasping and moaning and writhing in hopes she could use the allure of her naked glistening body to get me to give in and fuck her.
I did take some pity on her, I let her suck me for a few minutes. But that was it, I pulled up my pants before she could even get the satisfaction of pleasing me. It all was raw and primal, and I didn’t have to use anything other than my fingers to reduce her to begging.
I told her that there was an angel on one of my shoulders and a devil on the other. I told her one wanted me to stuff my cock in her cute bottom. One voice was saying to me - “Fuck her ass! It’s so tight and she whimpers so beautifully with the fullness. Grease it up, and fuck her. You know you want to!”
Believe it or not, that was the voice of the angel.
The angel was the compassionate voice that wanted to fill her need. Funny how the mind works at 5 am after 3 hours of running my hands over every inch of her body. I needed her just as badly as she needed me. But, such a need is easier to bear when you control it's release.
The devil on my other shoulder said quite the opposite. ”Make her beg,” the voice beckoned to me. So I did. Sera begged, she pleaded. She got on her knees and spread herself wide, inviting me to satisfy myself, to use her like a whore.
When she finally cried, the sadist was partially sated by the salty tears. At that point even the evil voice on my should relented. He too wanted me to plunge into Serafina’s ass.
I don’t listen too much to imps, so we’ve only now taken a break to grab some breakfast, and write this note.
She’s still waiting. And I know that when I start again, she’ll be reduced to begging even faster the 2nd time around.
So, this picture is simply here to remind Serafina of the torturous sensations I delivered last night. And, it doesn’t hurt that it will remind her of my threat too!
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