The Butterfly Temptress

I am speechless. Completely honored but speechless. I am in such good company! So, what are you waiting for? Check all of them out!

I remember everything. Everything that my heart deems important enough to remember at least. Like the night we met, the way my heart pounded when we kissed, the realization that I loved him. The memories are wrapped in details from all five of my senses. The scent of his skin, the taste of his mouth, the sound of his breath as I pulled him close, the feel of him as he buried himself inside of me.

Not long after I moved in he arranged for a night alone, just the two of us. We showered together and went to our room. The candles we’d purchased together from Ikea warmed the room and cast the perfect light across the walls and high ceilings. He poured us a glass of wine to share, sweet homemade wine from someone his father knew.

I admit impatience. He sipped his wine and pressed play on my laptop. A haunting sound filled the room and for the briefest moment I felt like a fly caught in the spiders web. My heart raced and the moisture between my thighs was already evident though he had yet to touch me.

The silky softness of my robe caressed my nipples as it fell open. My breasts were exposed to his gaze and it crossed my mind to cover up but the look in his eyes stopped me short. I watched him take the razor blade from the package and sanitize it. Never in my life had I been so frightened, so certain that the pain would be more than I could handle.

He whispered something I couldn’t understand and held the razor blade to his arm. I saw the slightest trickle of blood and heard his sharp intake of breath. He touched his tongue to his arm then took a sip of wine. As he turned toward me, our eyes met and held. He held his arm before my mouth and I accepted it readily. The metallic taste of his life source filled my mouth and I knew then and there that nothing would ever be as erotic as tasting his blood.

With slow and steady movements he climbed onto the bed beside me. He was on his knees, looking for all the world like the god he was in my mind. I closed my eyes and sighed as the tips of his fingers pushed my robe off my shoulder. I’m sure he spoke to me but I was too far gone to make sense of it. He moved my hair and touched the top of my breast just over my heart. I nodded with certainty.

The pain shot through me as he barely sliced through my skin with the razor blade. White hot pain that sent me spinning headlong into something I’d never felt before. In the distance I heard him asking if I was alright and I felt myself nod. I leaned back against the pillows piled high behind my back and gave in to the moment.

As his mouth closed over the place he’d cut I began to climax ever so gently. I opened my eyes and wrapped my fingers in his hair, anxious to keep him there a little longer. He lingered briefly then pulled from me. His mouth captured mine and the tastes mingled on my tongue.

In an instant he was inside of me. His cock was harder than I ever thought it could be and I knew I’d never been so wet in my life. Slowly he made love to me, barely moving, staying as deep in me as he could. It seemed forever that we stayed that way, locked in the most intimate of all embraces. Moments later I felt his cock spasm and fill me with his essence.

I remember everything. Even if I didn’t remember that night, I need look no further than my left breast where the scar has faded slightly but still serves as the reminder that today I so badly need. When the last breath is about to leave my body, I’ll move his hand to cover the scar on my breast and I’ll remind him to not forget. I’ll remind him that no matter what, I remember.

When you think of playing on the edge sexually, what do you think of? For as many different lifestyle relationships, you will find just as many different answers. Some derive pleasure from pain, pleasure from humiliation, and others derive pleasure from just their role in a certain activity or relationship. These things constitute legitimate boundary pushing, on the edge play, even if it isn’t a more “traditional” sense or definition of the word.

For me, playing on the edge can cover a multitude of activities. At one point in my life anal sex was playing on the edge. Shortly after it became standard practice and being spanked was playing on the edge- my own personal edge. The lines blurred and in my desire to be as submissive to my Sir as possible, I actually wanted to push the envelope.

One of the most erotic experiences in our two year relationship is a night that we spent cutting and making love. We bought the razor blades and I sterilized them accordingly. As I watched him slide the blade across his skin all I could think of was pressing my mouth to his fresh wound. So I did just that.

Immediately I climaxed and hit subspace in record time. Nothing could ever possibly top that moment- or so I thought. As he positioned himself above me and held the razor blade to my skin I couldn’t help but tremble and shake. I was not a pain slut nor did I ever have a desire to be one. Yet this, this I wanted with everything that I was. With a nod and a deep sigh I closed my eyes and allowed myself to fall deeper into subspace, deeper into my submission to the man who wielded the razor blade.

It was a sharp pain, but it went quickly. I didn’t scream or jump as I thought I might. I barely flinched. As he leaned down and sucked the blood from my skin I realized that I had never in my life felt more complete. Our life sources had been tasted and exchanged in the most deliciously erotic manner. As he slipped inside of me and our physical bodies joined in pleasure I remember thinking that my boundaries were completely gone, never to be seen again.

Almost two years later, I know better. The man I call my Master has now prodded, probed, and pushed in every way possible. He knows the scent of my arousal before I do. He knows the size of my clothes and the way my body responds to everything from cancer to toe sucking. So many things that I never thought possible, never dreamed of, and he has figured each of them out.

Now my ideas of playing on the edge involve things less mainstream. Things like “water sports” and “scat” have become part of my informal training. Shocking, isn’t it? For a girl who thought she never had a single limit, I now know that as submissive as my nature was, I was only submissive to a degree.

Nothing reminds me of my place more than the times when we explore the edge together. When I’m stripped naked and clutching at the toilet as I bear down, aching to release my bowels simply because he has told me what pleasure it brings him. Or the times when I spread the lips of my slippery cunt and piss all over his throbbing cock. The piss and shit do nothing for me. The fact that he has asked it of me, that he knows how quickly the mild humiliation puts me into subspace, that’s what makes me want to do it again and again.

It’s not always about his piss or my defecation. Often times it’s about simply making love in the bathroom because it’s quiet and has a locked door, it’s much more convenient for a quick fuck than always going upstairs. Yet even when it’s just a quick fuck, I’m reminded of all of our activities. Even remembering the times when I have licked him from front to back, thinking of the times when I have awakened him by sucking on his delicious cock- all of those things are taboo or playing on the edge to somebody.

Do the things we do in the privacy of our own home make me a bad person? Do they make me a horrible parent or some societal freak? I think not. I think they make me a woman in love with a man. A submissive who is comfortable and well reminded of her place in not only her Masters life and home, but in his heart as well.

Early morning, before the streets outside our window fill with morning commuters or churgoers, I feel him reach for me. From a sound sleep (which are rare) I hear his call and begin to stir. Our new sheets rustle softly as he lowers the covers and grasps my nipple as he whispers in my ear his sudden need for me.

We rarely make love in the dark. He rarely reaches for me in the light of day, much less in the wee hours of the morning. I wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass us by for a few more minutes of sleep.

I pause to kiss him as I roll over and spread my legs wide in invitation. No hurry, no rush, just sweet sleepy sensuality as he strokes the small of my back. His hands linger briefly then make their way to the place where the evidence of our sexual chemistry begins to roll down my inner thighs.

One second his fingers are on my clit and the next he’s filling me with himself. A moan comes from somewhere in the dark and I barely recognize the sound of my own voice. As I teeter on the edge of release his hands flex and relax then grab at my ass almost as if he’s holding on for dear life. A stream of white hot fire deep within the velvet walls that hold him firmly and it’s over.

Minutes, maybe hours, pass with his body pinning mine to the bed as sleep keeps us from bothering with such trivial things as urination and comfortable positions. Laying close, skin on skin, enjoying the lingering effects of love and passion in the darkness of our small room is all we need. It’s more than enough. It’s everything.

I don’t know how it happens but it does and I love it. Once again Jefferson has taken a peek at my little corner of the blogging world and decided to Fleshbot me for Making Up. Yay! So, if you’re here from that link, welcome and I hope you’ll come on in and make yourself at home.

We’d fought all day. Actually, we’d fought all night and into the early hours of the morning before we finally collapsed from sheer exhaustion. He stayed on his side and I stayed on mine, careful not to move or touch, barely sleeping. When we got up, it was more of the same. The day seemed to drag on forever and all I wanted was for the fighting to be over. Soon enough it was, but that’s not the point of this post. Too many times too many people post about the fights and not enough about the good stuff.

He pulled me close and I pressed my lips to his. Knowing we were both beat I wasn’t going to even bother trying to seduce him. Just a kiss good night. Then I saw him naked beneath comforter with his cock hard and I had to at least try.

I moved my mouth lower and captured his cock, sucking it deeply down my throat. He sighed and moaned, gently lifting his hips to thrust deeper into my mouth. I was hot, wet, and more than ready for my husband to make love to me. Then I heard his voice whispering quiet words of encouragement mingled with one of our hottest fantasies of late.

My hand caressed him as I moved to kiss his mouth once more. His tongue traced my ear and his breath made me shiver as he continued to talk about her, the one I long to touch once more. His hands grabbed my ass briefly before I slipped away once more to lavish praise on his engorged prick.

Before I knew it I was on all fours with him inside of me. He felt amazing and though we’ve been making love regularly, it felt like I’d not had him in ages. As he filled me with his cock, sliding in and out in a slow and steady rhythm I knew what I wanted but I was afraid to ask. Almost as if he were reading my mind he pulled out and asked if he could fuck my tight asshole. I nodded and he prompted me to get the lubricant, but I couldn’t be bothered. I wanted him right then and there without delay.

“Just get your cock nice and wet by being in my pussy then slip into my ass, please. I need you too bad to wait.”

And that is just what he did. It was slippery perfection as his throbbing dick stretched my ass and I knew the first orgasm was mere seconds away. Seconds later through a Percocet and lust filled haze I climaxed as he whispered his pleasure and grabbed onto my wide hips.

“Will you fuck me like this if she ever comes to visit? Will you put me on my back and fuck my ass while I lick her delicious pussy? That’s what I want. To feel you both at once, to experience something hot with the people I love and desire the most…”

Climax number two rocked through me and I felt him fight the urge to come as he told me emphatically that he would love to see us together like that. Time and again I came, milking him with an urgency that neither of us has known in such a long time.

I felt his fingers dig into my flesh, kneading and flexing. I squeezed and released the muscles of my ass to milk him properly, discontent to wait for him to come in his own time. Once more I came hard and finally coaxed the come from his delicious organ.

Fighting leaves an awful taste in my mouth, but there is certainly something to be said about the sweetness of coming together and making up.

My libido has been a little testy lately. So much so that I haven’t even been flirting or hinting at anything sexual with The Knight. I guess cancer and chemo will do that to you, but I don’t like it. Still, it’s more than just the whole being sick thing. It’s the submission thing. If I step back and let it go, he steps up and takes it. I like that- a lot. Even with all that there are days that being held is fine by me, until he touches my skin or looks at me with pure lust in his eyes.

Sunday night wasn’t one of those nights. It was a cuddle and talk kind of night. It was a feel so very close and be loved kind of night and I was just fine with that. Being held is wonderful and even more so when it involves skin on skin with plenty of kissing and conversation. With all of that, his cock was still hard. I edged closer to him and when my body came into contact with his, all I wanted was to pleasure him.

Instead, I asked him to stroke his cock for me. Watching him masturbate just does it for me. Suddenly there is an urge where there was none before and he knows it. Without hesitation he began to tug and pull at his swollen cock. I watched in fascination until he instructed me to touch myself.

I freed my breasts from my bra and slid my left hand into my pants. Of course I was wet and my lack of panties only helped keep me in the perpetually slippery state that he loves best. My right hand tweaked and pinched my erect nipples while my lover continued to sigh and pull on himself.

“Put your mouth on me while you touch yourself,” he commanded gently.

So I did. With the fingers of my left hand on my clit and the fingers of my right quite busy with my nipples, I slid my mouth over his hard cock. I’d like to say that it took a while, but it didn’t. I felt his cock begin to spasm and I willingly swallowed every last drop of his sticky sweetness.

And in return?

He laid beside me and took over stimulating my breasts. Alternately sucking first the right nipple then the left, he had me on the edge in no time. Though I don’t know why I do it, I asked him if I could come and when he gave permission, that was that. I came not once, not twice, but THREE times with his mouth on my nipples and my fingers on my clit.

Hands down it was the best non-sex we’ve ever had. Stay tuned later for all the details of what is now known as the Crisco Incident.

Before we progressed to phone calls from instant messages, before the face to face visits, and far before we ever spent every single night together I used to dream of the way love would be for The Knight and I. I would write short stories, make mix cd’s, and daydream incessantly. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. I know that now.

Being in love with someone isn’t about moonlight and roses. Being part of a D/s couple isn’t about the books you read or the advice columns found on the Internet. As a part of a couple, it’s not about what one person thinks is right or how one person is convinced something should go. It’s far more complicated than any of that. Except, well…I didn’t know that.

You see, I read all the BDSM books. I faithfully joined the D/s forums and posted even the tiniest most off the wall questions. I drew from past experiences with others who weren’t Dominants as much as they were just selfish pricks on a power trip. I assumed I knew things that I didn’t know- about The Knight and about the kind of relationship we should have. In the process of assuming and stressing, I lost sight of the most important thing in any relationship- COMMUNICATION.

I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I asked if I could talk to him. I said what I had to say, without “venting” and without accusation. With butterflies in my tummy, I sat on our bed and listened as he ran down the list of things I had done wrong. Wait. Strike that. That’s not exactly what he did.

He told me that my stressing about everything was stressing him. My second guessing every single action, every single thought, was off-putting and not at all conducive to any kind of D/s dynamic. Even though I wasn’t second guessing him or doubting him, it was just as bad to doubt and second guess myself.

I sat there and I couldn’t help but stare at him in disbelief. All this time, all the research and reading, it was WRONG? I was flipping out, worrying and stressing over NOTHING? That made me feel very small, very inept, and very foolish. All I could do was cry.

The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. And as the afternoon wore on, we talked a little more. About us, about one another, and about expectations. I feel like I understand him a little more now than I did before, but not perfectly. And it’s not enough to convince me that everything is as it should be or that it ever will be for that matter. I just know the differences since our talk.

That night he initiated lovemaking. In the days since he’s initiated and I’ve relaxed. I’ve not asked or even hinted at any sort of sexual activity. Honestly, if he wants me or desires me, he can start showing it. Our sex life is not my responsibility alone. (Though I do notice that things are better since I’ve just let go. It sounds crazy, but I admit it has made a bit of difference.)

The Knight surprised me with a trip to Best Buy and a new Zune. Though I had been yearning for an iPod for the longest time, he’s a Microsoft man. And I can honestly say that I love it! It syncs to my MediaCenter pc AND to our Xbox 360. How cool is that? Oh and of the 30 gig of memory, I’ve loaded thousands of songs but used only 5 gig! I love it, I love it, I love it!

I don’t know where all of this will end up. I’m trying a new hands-off approach to submission, quietly and on my own, to see if I understood the things we discussed. And I’m trying to take better care of myself. There’s so much going on in our lives right now that nothing is for certain, except change. I only hope that it’s change for the better.

(A song that I’ve been singing a lot lately. One of my favorites.)

Sometimes we’re so on that it astounds me. We finish one anothers sentences, we want the same food for dinner, and we can think of nothing better than just being together. Cast aside are the insecurities and the attempts to hide my wobbly bits. In their places are actions that speak louder than words; a glance over my shoulder as he is about to slide into my ass, laying my body against his without worrying that I’ll hurt him.

We’ll spend the evenings laughing, teasing one another mercilessly; a backrub here and an intimate tongue kiss there. We’ll sleep a little and love a little, taking turns waking one another with a kiss. It’s in those shared moments that I am the most certain of my place in his life and in his heart. The knowledge alone is enough to get me through some of the toughest and most self-esteem destroyinh moments.

Over the weekend I awoke from a dream about my Knight. Without hesitation my head was buried beneath the comforter and my mouth had captured his cock. This isn’t an odd occurrence; not by a long shot. It’s the norm and it’s something that I enjoy immensely. Still, there are times that blowing him blows my mind.

As I held his sac firmly in my hand I took the length of him all the way down my throat. He moans his approval and thrusts his hips forward. It is in that moment that I know he was as ready for me as I was for him. He exploded in my mouth and I swallowed every last drop. Nothing rare, but exquisite nonetheless.

There is something life affirming about making love with The Knight. On the days when I feel the lowest, it lifts me up. On the days when I’m certain that I can’t go on, just having his arms around me gives me the strength I need to go on. It’s more than the physical. It’s more than the emotional. It’s spiritual.

Some moments are more beautiful than words could ever possible express. Some moments are beyond description. When I experience those moments I am so torn between holding them in or trying to find the words to tell the world. So if my words fall short, forgive me.

The Knight held me close and whispered in my ear all the things he loved about me right that second. He touched my head and inhaled the scent of my scalp, explaining what it was about the scent that he liked. His hands traveled down and caressed every inch of my body from my ears to my ample bottom. My skin tingled and my pussy was so wet. Even when I think I’m not interested, I respond to everything about the man that is my Master, my One.

I touched and stroked his most sensitive places. He instructed me to not touch his hard cock and I obeyed. I let my fingers linger at his perineum because I know how good it feels for him. Gently I pressed my finger at the opening of his ass as I cupped his testicles and kissed his mouth, my tongue tangling lazily with his. It felt good to kiss and linger, to explore and enjoy foreplay with him.

He made me lay on my back and spread my legs. As he situated himself between my spread thighs I felt his fingers brush over my clit and instantly I tried to stop him. Though I had longed for his touch down there, I didn’t want him to feel as if he had to…I wanted him to want to. He shushed me and whispered how much he loved to touch me as a finger slipped into my ass and another stroked my clit.

I don’t know how many times he made me come that way. I lost count after number five and my brain couldn’t form a single thought. As his fingers traced a path from my clit to my ass, it was my undoing once again. In the midst of an intense climax I felt the bed shift ever so slightly and as his fingers parted the swollen lips of my cunt his tongue flicked across my throbbing clit.

He moved me over to my hands and knees and I couldn’t help but comment on the fact that my pussy was literally dripping wet. I could smell the scent of my sex and hear the sound of his labored breathing. He slid his cock into my ass and I felt my body begin to clutch him deeper inside. I couldn’t get enough of him, of his cock in the deepest part of my ass.

Time and again he would pull out and leave only the head of his cock in me. Each time his fingers would find my clit and stroke furiously and each time I would come for him. Over and over he reduced me to whimpers and moans and my body responded by banging itself furiously against him. Usually he fucks me, but last night we took turns fucking one another in the middle of making the sweetest love ever.

As his spent cock slipped from my body, I collapsed on our bed with my body covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Tears and sweat had caused my mascara to run and my lips were bruised from biting them in and effort to keep quiet. Every muscle in my body rebelled and celebrated simultaneously and my mind was lost somewhere in subspace.

With my almost bald head and my smeared make-up, I have never felt more beautiful. With his seed seeping from my well-used ass and my own juices running down my legs, I have never felt more alive. With his eyes metting mine and his arms holding me close, I have never felt more in love.

This morning it’s still there, that feeling…and it is so very beautiful.