In Extremis

be-pleasing-always:

“When our movements are restricted and we are temporarily led to give up control, we can learn to trust deeply not only our partners, but also life, creating a profound sense of expansion.”  ~ Sacred Kink

Photography: Peter Claver

(Source: bondageblowjobs)

missveeau:

Please?

(Source: brunetzerofanzine)

eenslaved:

She moaned. His fingers manipulated her flesh with exquisite control, wringing a steady litany of pleas and breathy moans from her open mouth.

She was on her hands and knees before him. Her nude form trembled under a soft sheen of sweat. He stood over her, still dressed. He pressed his leg against the length of her flank, letting her feel her bare skin moving against his pants.

He cupped her cunt with his hand, petted her there as if she were an animal, which she was. He alternately rolled her clit between his fingers and pinched it when he felt she was nearing climax. His finger penetrated her ass, boring into her, lubricated with the wetness leaking out of her cunt. 

“Master, please, I need you,” she panted. “I need your cock. Please use me.”

Three of his fingers slid into her cunt. She cried out, lurching forward a little but holding her position. Her head hung down. She could see her breasts hanging down, nipples adorned with the bell clips which kept sounding out under the quivering of her body. She could see her owner’s hands between her legs, busy, busy hands.

He held his fingers inside her while his other hand slapped her ass. “Ride.”

She moaned and began moving, rocking her hips back, riding his fingers buried inside her cunt. He didn’t help her, just let her fuck herself on his fingers eagerly.

She was chanting something repeatedly. “Please fuck me, please fuck me, please fuck me.” He smiled.

“You know that’s not how it works,” he told his slut. “You have to earn it.” He smacked her again on the ass. “Now come on, get this ass moving back on my fingers.”

She rocked back and forth frantically, grunting with her effort. Next time, he thought, he would have her do this in front of the mirror so they could both watch her face. He had both driven her and denied her orgasm so many times that he knew what she looked like, but he never grew tired of it. From his experience, he also knew that it did something to her when she had to watch herself submitting to him. When he bound her and left her alone in the room, he usually made her to position her in front of a screen, upon which he would play one of the many video clips he had made of her.

The most humiliating scenes got her worked up the most and there was some footage that never got old. He often played her the video of her on all fours, her limbs doubled and bound so she rested only on her knees and elbows, receiving the enema he administered. The humiliation of her sobbing, her distended belly, the way she begged to be allowed to release the enema, stayed fresh even after multiple viewings. 

Another video was of her eating from a dog dish on the floor, her hair tied up out of her face and her hands bound high up behind her back. She had learned to eat this way but it was still a messy process that smeared food all over her chagrined face. When she finished eating, she crawled over to a dildo jutting out of a footstool and bounced herself up and down on it, fucking herself to orgasm while he sound out of view of the camera and cropped her tits every time she begged him to hit her.

His girl was whimpering nonstop now, her cunt leaking copiously, soaking his hand. She seemed to be holding her breath, she was so on edge of climax. 

He removed his hand. She moaned, sobbed. He crouched in front of her and gave her his hand to clean. She was shuddering. It took her a moment, then her tongue came out and she began to lap at his hand, still weeping at the denial of her climax.

This was the state he wanted her in - utterly wretched and desperate, feverish and near hysterical in her desire to come, so controlled by her sex that she would do anything to please him. 

He stood up, his mind already on his plans for the evening. It was going to be something he had to film for her to watch later, one of the videos he would play for her again and again and never get old.

“Come along,” he said. “Crawl for Daddy.”

He walked ahead to her room, grabbing his video camera along the way, as she crawled after him.

missveeau:

I’ve had a knife inside me. It was terrifying. And I loved it :3 Once off thing though.

(Source: ripgrotesqueshit)

yourbadgrrl:

It’s too late for sorry now, princess….

(Source: avagray1028)

(Source: collared-slaves)

(Source: gregorystgermain)

odditiesoflife:

Book Sculptures

Landscapes carved and painted into old books by Canadian artist Guy Laramee.

beggingforpermission:

itsallprimal:

I will open you up no matter how hard you try to keep your body closed to me.

The other night I was having one of those nights where I couldn’t figure out what I wanted. I was into it, then I wasn’t. I wanted to wrestle a little, and then I wanted to cuddle. I wanted to make out sweetly, and then I wanted to be hurt. I just couldn’t make up my mind and my emotions were all over the map.

I had a pretty good idea what I needed, even if I had no idea what I wanted: I needed to be forced. Not in an actually non-consensual way. But I wanted to be able to struggle, push, fight back. I wanted to let myself cycle through my emotions and turn them into straining muscles and agonizing groans. And most importantly, I wanted to lose and be fucked hard, reveling in my powerlessness and the display of his strength.

I needed to have the choice taken away from me in a display of brute force.

(And I’m talking about brute force here as one of the three submissive love languages: brute force, status inequality, and control. Sea did a great presentation on this at SPLF in 2012. If you have a chance to see him present at a local event, I highly recommend it.)

The thing was that I was afraid to ask for it. In my experience, I’ve never really been able to struggle for all I was worth. Even the people who like a little bit of playful scene-based bratting now and then don’t like too much resistance. They want/need to feel wanted to enjoy the sex act, particularly emotionally. They don’t want to feel rejected. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been told that when I resist too much it’s turn-off and had that negotiated off the table.

So, even though I knew that New Partner is into wrestling and rough body play and all that, and even though I knew that he had reacted pretty well when I’d indicated I’d wanted to struggle in a more limited manner in the past, I just had a really hard time telling him. Eventually I got it out, begging him to tell me it was okay if we did that. We did a little bit then fucked hard and it was great and I felt better after - more calm and centered. I could have used more struggle at the beginning because there was a substantial amount of emotion left unreleased at the end, but I was still tentative.

Maybe next time I’m feeling that way, I’ll be able to trust a little more that he won’t decide I’m resisting too much. I can push a little farther and go a little harder and trust that he’ll still stay focused, determined, strong, unyielding - a force to be reckoned with—- a force I can rely on.

(Source: thyric)

Classy, intense, seductive.
Predator or prey?
A little of both.
The best kind.

[photo credit: Emma Watson for W Magazine —Ed.]