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Month: May 2016

Sometimes it doesn’t work

Sometimes it doesn’t work

I’m getting closer to my final exams, which means that my stress levels have gone through the roof. It also means that my horniness has increased exponentially and I’m what you’d call, ahem… insatiable.

The other day I gave in and unlocked Mr Kitty. I needed cock, and I needed it now. He was only too happy to oblige. I couldn’t make up my mind on whether I wanted him to cum, so I didn’t say anything. He assumed he wasn’t allowed and that was fine with me.

We nearly always start with me on my back before moving positions, mainly because it gives him better access to all the fun bits of my body. This time was no exception, though things moved faster than usual and my instinct was to want everything harder and deeper. Yup, epic sex.

I realised something was wrong when I noticed that he was going balls deep from behind while I was on all fours, yet I wasn’t in pain. That rarely happens and, when it does, it’s after a long time of being veeeery careful. Granted, at that stage I had already had a few orgasms so things were bound to be easier, but even then it didn’t make sense in my head that this felt good, despite not having a slow and gentle stage until my body stops thinking that the doggy style position is evil. He was going deep and hard and it felt good.

We went for a long time and eventually had to take a breather. As I lay on my back next to him on our bed, feeling happy and fuzzy and life was good and everything was perfect, I noticed that his cock was still hard. I was very tired by that stage but I wasn’t thinking right. I had an urge to mount it and bounce on it even though I knew I was all orgasmed out. I got on top of him and bounced anyway, until he came too close to having an orgasm and I decided on the spot that he was definitely not allowed. I unmounted him and went back to being happy next to him, still panting.

That’s when I noticed that his cock was covered in blood. Not just a trickle, but full-on omgyou’regonnadie blood. I wasn’t in pain but his PA was causing him a bit of trouble, so we thought he must have got injured. I picked up some tissue from the bathroom to help him wipe the blood off… and that’s when we saw that I was bleeding. I was leaving a trail of blood. I felt no pain or discomfort, but it was so much blood that I wasn’t sure if I should ring the health services’ advice number or go straight to the local hospital. So much blood. Mr Kitty seemed to think I was going to die. And then the blood stopped by itself, before I made my choice about medical services.

I still had no pain, no obvious injuries, absolutely no discomfort.

The next day, Mr Kitty had a sore penis, a slightly angry PA piercing area, and muscular pain everywhere. I was perfectly fine. A little old blood when I wiped, but apart from that it’s like it never happened.

Another day passed and my uncontrollable need for cock was rearing its head again. I somehow convinced Mr Kitty that it would be perfectly fine to let him penetrate me if he did it very slowly, just to check if anywhere inside me was painful. Irresponsible? Yes, extremely. But I couldn’t help myself. So we did that after I practically begged him. It was alright; still no obvious wounds or sore areas, but I tensed up a little when I thought about the way my blood had soaked through the duvet the last time he had fucked me. I decided to abort the operation even though it felt good.

I’m no stranger to sex injuries. I can get a little over excited. But hell, this was horrific. My previous injuries where the type where there’s a lot of pain or discomfort but barely any visible signs. This was just the opposite! So I hereby declare that I won’t be irresponsible again and I will let myself heal properly before trying again. >_>
I am due for a pap smear next month so I’ll be bringing this up just in case.

Being a girl is fun………..

Feeling sexy

Feeling sexy

Disclaimer: despite the title, if you’re hoping for sexy you’ll have to wait till my next post!

I am 25 years old as of last week. Also known as “halfway to 50”, according to Mr Kitty. Backstory: I think that’s payback for when he turned 27, just after we first met, and I insisted that he was now in his late 20s. Halfway to 50 it is. I feel fine. As far as I’m concerned, I’m not ageing but moving towards what I consider to be a woman’s sexiness peak, which often happens in her 30s. That’s where the youthful looks are still mostly there, but the woman is confident enough to carry herself well.

I still look very young. When my coworkers found out it was my birthday, they asked me how old I was and they simply didn’t believe me. They asked me to specify my year of birth, like bouncers sometimes do outside nightclubs to check that you’re not lying. They thought I was about 18, and no more than 20. When I was 18, people guessed 16 by looking at me, and 23 when I started talking. Having opinions makes you sound older, apparently.

Overall, I feel like I’m slowly improving. Maturing like a good wine, as they say. Except I’m even tastier! I’ve always found it easier to build rapport with older people and people in positions of authority, but I remember many an occasion where I would fake confidence in my contributions while freaking out inside. It used to be a lot harder to keep a steady voice and a composed appearance. I used to hope people would listen to me. These days I expect them to listen; no freaking out required. As it turns out, if you’re not boastful and you respectfully treat people as equals (perhaps under the thin veneer of honorific titles), people tend to pay attention to what I have to say.

This is the first time in my life that I have no planned next step. I’ve always known what I would be doing. I know my life goals. I knew how to get where I wanted and was following my perfect plan. But somewhere along the way, I threw out all the next steps and decided to take a different path. The next few years will be a bit of a gamble, and whether we can keep to our discussed timeline for starting a family is anyone’s guess. But you know what? I’m happier this way. Most people I know don’t have a plan, and they don’t care. I wouldn’t want to be like this my whole life (or even a year!) but, right now, it’s actually kind of nice. I’ll worry about it later, when I finish my masters and realise that I should have applied for an engineering job by now…

I’m excited about the future, probably more than I’ve ever been.

Punishment and success

Punishment and success

I’ve been a bad keyholder this week. I had a massive assignment due this week, plus project work, plus studying for my exams, plus work work, and then I got a sore throat and my body decided to do the girly thing. Ugh. I’ve been getting horrific mood swings. I don’t think I’m very fun to be around at the moment, and I really question how Mr Kitty can put up with me. Though sexual frustration and wetness aside, he seems to be happy enough.

Well…

He has been so frustrated and submissive it’s almost painful to watch. Almost, except for when he can’t stop worshipping my body. Ok, it’s actually kinda nice. But I was feeling ever so slightly sorry for him because I’m way too busy to do anything sexy at the moment, so I told him he was allowed to use toys. Now the question is: should we count anal orgasms in his tally for the year? I’m leaning towards letting them go uncounted, since they don’t seem to relieve his sexual frustration anyway. Even after getting one of those, he’s still randomly stopping me to suck on my nipples, kiss my belly or caress my ass. He says those orgasms are nice while they’re happening, but once they’re over, he remembers that he is still locked up without access to his cock. Apparently, that makes anal orgasms evil. Locked-up guy logic.

He asked a few times when he will be unlocked. At first, I let him know that realistically, it will probably be after my exams when I’ll consider letting him go free. He thought an early June release is insanely harsh but he didn’t complain. After a while he brought it up again, and again, and it got very annoying. I ended up having to spank him to help him fall back into good behaviour (he’s not allowed to beg for freedom). I only hit him five times with a paddle, but I hit him quite hard, possibly too hard. His ass turned red straight away. I asked him, on a scale of 0 to 10, how painful the spanks were. He gave them a 10. I asked him again, because I wanted a truthful answer. He changed it to a 5, but only “if 10 is death by spanking”. I guess in real terms it would be about an 8. Such a brief spanking, but such a great effect! He became malleable and compliant, and not at all annoying. We stayed in bed together while I gave him rubs and cuddles and he rubbed his locked up cock on me, in that cute little frustrated way of his. He commented on how he had a stingy ass, an asshole with that “freshly fucked” feeling, and a very attempted hard little cock, leaking precum. Meanwhile, he squirmed and groped me.

For the past few days he has been texting with a man from this area who is also in chastity. I don’t know any details but I wonder how many people in this town have tried chastity. We live in one of those places where everything looks leafy and idyllic in that old classic British way (Hot Fuzz anyone?), but as soon as you delve deeper you start to find that there’s a strong tendency towards kink, more than in other cities in which I’ve lived. It’s a funny place.

My mother really enjoyed her visit. She came with a friend and they mostly did their own thing. In fact, she was a thousand times better than I expected. No bad comments, no suspicious looks. She raved about how lovely Mr Kitty was towards her, how great our town is, how nice and clean we keep our house and even how well behaved our cat is. Yay! I feel like she’s finally forgotten all her weird internalised issues with us. Phew.

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