Saturday, May 17, 2008

Sugasm #130

Sugasm #130


Half-Nekkid Thursday courtesy of Tara Tainton.

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #131? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks
Gross Spelling Errors Turn Me Off
“Here are a few other word issues that come up in sex writing that throw me off and drive me crazy.”

L’Artiste
“I want time to sip my whisky, to drink you in as you unveil yourself, as you offer your body to my steady gaze.”

Learning My Limits (Part 1)
“It hurts. It’s gorgeous. ”

Mr. Sugasm Himself
24-Months of AVN Online, $0

Editor’s Choice
The Few, The Proud, The Pornless

More Sugasm
Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

BDSM & Fetish
Cut to the chaste

Friday, May 16, 2008

Coffee with Deity

Hi. I'm Stormy, here only in Deity's temporary absence. You'll have him back soon, I promise.
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Last year sometime, Deity wrote a post about the day we first met. I thought it was lovely piece of writing when I read it. Seductive and erotic undertones that pulled me as much as the meeting itself.

As his faithful readers know well, Deity has a way with words that make the scary things seem... tempting. Those things that a good girl would never (and should never) ever want, he makes you think "hmm, maybe..."

A dangerous guy.

And so I can't help loving him to pieces because there's something deviant in me - and in you, I think, dear reader. It's something that makes you ponder: "hmmm, maybe..." as he makes his mysterious universe into your shameful temptation.

In my case, I was tempted enough to meet him, and vice versa it turned out. So here is my own recollection of coffee with Deity.

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It's a drab afternoon in the city, the sky full with bloated, dark clouds washing out the usual vibrancy into muted colors. The air feels slightly muffled and the city feels as resigned to its fate as I do.

The coffee shop is as he described it, long and narrow, and I spot him right away, though he said later that my glance around the cafe was in search of him. It wasn't. I recognized him immediately, but I have senses like a police officer (or perhaps a criminal?) at times -- my back usually positioned against a wall and quick exits established in advance. Eventually my eyes return to him and I take a deep breath and move to greet him.

Deity described me as awkward that day and I'm sure that's true. From the start I am at the disadvantages of his choosing, my back to the door and in unfamiliar territory. And I'm drinking tea which he's ordered for me, when I feel absolutely certain I should be sipping something like Glenlivet for this introduction. Hell, I should be gargling it.

But no. I'm here in this foreign coffee shop, his own personal lair. The tea is calming my chill but the caffeine threatens to escalate my nerves. We talk about nothing. It's charming, but evasive.

Deity's girl isn't available today, attending some grand event elsewhere. Deity is so very proud of her, both of who she is and her accomplishments. He tells me more about the things that make her amazing to him, and I agree, she is amazing. It relaxes me to talk about her. I am not here to get involved with her man, after all. Simply to meet a close friend I'd never met before.

But that doesn't mean there is no sexuality present at this table. For one thing, I suspect Deity would bring a D/s component into a brief conversational exchange with a 65 year old librarian grandmother, if he thought it would entertain him.

And so for this meeting of ours, he's especially focused.

He wants my attention and he confirms this for himself in small ways, by my obedience. I'm drinking the tea he ordered; I'm wearing the boots he advised me to buy long ago, knee-high with 4" heels that I've finally mastered; I'm fitted in a long, fashionable skirt that I knew he'd approve of; and I've abided some underwear 'suggestions'.

It's surprisingly embarrassing. To meet someone with whom you have no expectation of sex yet to still be their sexual toy. I could have been cheeky and not conformed to these preferences of his, but for what reason? He is dominant, I'm submissive. This dance is part of our natures, and he leads it.

Our conversation turns to less trivial things and the intimacy of it makes me nervous. I should leave, yet I'm feeling trapped here. It might not be sex, but I do feel a bit like I'm getting fucked. God, such a pleasant buzz it is...

And so I know I'd better leave, but when I come to that decision he seizes my wrist holding me in place.

Everything is quiet as I get my bearings. I slow my breathing, matching that buzz in my head to the calm, dark sky outside the cafe window. Everything feels serene yet threatening.

I'll let Deity finish the story in his words:

When i feel that you are ready, i lead you through a slow discussion of what you'd confessed to me online. I force you to talk explicitly about the things you want done to you. I demand that you speak at the same conversational level that we were previously. You are made to describe why you believe you deserve to be treated this way, why you have come to meet me at the cafe, and why you know this has to happen.

As each minute passes with you not taking your eyes from mine, i strip you of your vices. I remove you of your hangups. I peel away your vulnerabilities. At a certain point, you'll disappear.

At a certain point, you'll be gone.


Indeed, I was.

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

En vacance



Ahhhhhhh...

I can feel the relaxation already. I'm stretching my limbs up towards the cloudless, crystal blue sky. I'm carefully cleaning the gunk from my sunglasses. I'm rummaging through my untouched stack of literature, looking for the one or two reads whose leaves will be easy to thumb through as my attention gets drawn out to the rolling surf bubbling up over my sandaled toes.

I'm leaving for the next two and a half weeks, and won't have any access to these pages until i return. But don't worry, my dignified readers.

Stormy, my beautiful and eloquent amie de coeur, has gallantly offered her gracious tutelage over this site in my absence. I look forward to the path Her Erotic Demise will take under her steady and (often) playful guidance.

So, without much regret, i depart. Enjoy the broadcast of TransformHer under different management. I know i will.

Sunday, April 27, 2008

Get right back on the horse

Unplugged. Disconnected. Distanced.

It was a week where many horrible and taxing events took place, and at the end of it, i not only felt myself worn down, but completely detached. From everyone - including my girl.

I experience these moments, when my body has sustained several blows, and my psyche takes even more. Fatigued from the struggle, i sometimes pull very deep inside myself. To the outside observer, i look like a shell, a mindless facsimile of my normal engaging personality. To her, it's even worse. She feeds off my energy, off our discourse and dance, off my direction. When i get like this, any attempts at re-establishing the connection feels dull, clumsy - even foreign.

But i could tell it was affecting her. More presciently, i needed her closeness and warmth. These moments serve up a very difficult predicament. I'm in dire need of repair. She instinctively intuits this and draws near to me, but because i'm three layers deep inside of myself i won't notice or respond in-kind. Drastic measures are required to pull me out.

I was fixing dinner for us, when she came into the kitchen and asked if there was anything she could do. Here, she was not asking if she could help set the table. She was asking for something much more base. Her tone, gravelly, a bit vulnerable, sent the perfect note that reached me through the walls of my inner sanctum. I looked up from my just simmering pan of onions and spices, and calmly spoke:

"Go stand at the end of the bed, and wait until i come in there."

As she retreated to the bedroom, i returned to my cooking, making the final touches before i could let it simmer for 20 minutes, unattended.

I took a long time walking our hallway that led to our pitch black bedroom. Each step, i spoke to myself, pushing me, prodding, trying to shake the heavy veil that had settled on my mind. I stood at the precipice of the bedroom, and examined the back of her body - stolid and stoic, in anticipation of my arrival.

I stepped quickly behind her and ripped off her clothes, tossing her dignified wardrobe to the floor without any concern for their well-being. I grabbed her throat from behind, and pulled my mouth to her ear.

"Don't move," i whispered.

I jumped to the side of the bed, digging in the nylon sack that lay there, finally producing the weighty bit-gag harness. I held it in front of her face where, without any urging, she parted her crimson-painted lips, opening wide her mouth. I made quick work of the half-dozen straps and buckles, tightening each with a growing awareness and warmth in my hands and fingers. I looked at her face, and already a small trail of drool had developed at the left corner of her taxed orifice.

I stood behind her, and gazed at a sight i'd seen many times before. This gorgeous, quivering ass, which was eloquently framed by the long, outstretched arms of her garters as they anchored to her thigh-high stockings, greeted me with a familiar rush of blood to my extremities. I took my hand and slapped it, like a match head, across the flint of her velvety peach flesh. A spark ignited, lighting a flame inside of me.

I slapped her ass. I swatted it. I smacked it with the full meat of my palm. My rigid hand slammed into it repeatedly, over and over, firing multiple shots against her rotund rump in all different directions. I didn't stop, not even for a chance for me to catch my breath. I just continued to lay into her backside. Finally, she reached a boiling point, spilling over with the absorbed energy displaced into her flesh. She stomped and kicked militantly into the wooden floor, spitting and loudly grunting through the gag vicing her mouth open. I stood back and watched this creature expel a week's worth of disgruntlement and pain.

I became suddenly apparent of the stiff erection stretching out my suit pants. I quickly stripped to the nude. Wrapping my hands on each side of her hips, i held them completely still, positioning her. Then, without any thought or question, i entered her from behind. My free right hand reached forward, grabbing a hold of her ebony mane, pulling her head back towards me.

Then, silently and thoroughly, i fucked her.

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Find the clouds

I breathe.

In great glorious lungfuls, i drink in the air as if it were water, and i had a thirst deep in my chest.

Each breath draws from me a peaceful sigh, a connection to the portion of my mind too often misplaced throughout the regular activity of a day. One breath brings me back there. Another one, and i am centered. Once i am calm, it seems i cannot inhale enough, i am feeding oxygen to muscles and cells that are neglected by my regimental respiration. These parts of me come alive, they ask for more, they make the colors around me stand out, more brilliant. They imbibe the sounds that circle me with a three-part harmony. They lift the corners of my mouth ever so slightly into a smile. They make the blue in my eyes sparkle.

Just by breathing. This air i engulf helps me find my oneness with everything around me. It removes any notion of individuality that i may have allowed myself to falsely accept. It reminds me that i am not just breathing air. I am also breathing the sunshine that creates differing pressures that move the air. I am breathing the clouds that float on the air, and carry moisture from one land to the next.

When i breathe, i remind myself i must find the clouds. When i do, i feel calmness.

Every time she is bent over, naked, grasping the edge of the bed as told, i must remind her to breathe. I am breathing for her. I am breathing with her.

Monday, April 21, 2008

May i damage you?

May i take your perfect visage and slam against it, forcefully?

May i hold the alabaster of your soft cheek, only long enough to shatter it?

May i address you in curt ways, that humiliate you, reduce you to an insult?

May i seek pandemonium in your crevices, stabbing them thoughtlessly with my member?

May i cause you to shriek in fear, to mimic the pain i feel on a daily basis?

Will you do that for me? Will you suffer, truly suffer, not cosmetically suffer, but endure so much that it leaves a scar, a permanent welt that i can return to, when i need the solace that tells me i'm not alone with this torment?

May i look you straight in the eyes, and without remorse, collapse my entire spirit upon you, spilling my bloody insides all over your beautiful, untouched canvass?

May i maim you? Transform you? Turn you into something else that you do not recognize?

May i rob you of your persona, re-route your natural instincts and feed you my disease, my slanted way of life?

May i drag you along the rough, cragged surface of my abilities, my clumsiness and ignorance scraping across your flesh?

May i pounce on you, without any warning? May i shove my hunger onto you, taking what i need to feed, leaving you with just scraps?

May i reconstruct you? May i tear you apart and put you back as i prefer?

May i damage you? May i damage you? May i inflict?

Ask yourself if you trust me. Ask yourself if you can survive this.