The Spice of Life
1. Wishing for a White Christmas?
Spontaneity is the spice of life.
Rudi Bakhtiar (CNN News anchor)
Christmas… I hate Christmas. Well, I don’t exactly hate it, but it’s fraught; managing everyone’s expectations about where you’ll spend Christmas morning, who’ll host the lunch, who’ll come. And presents. I’m over rushing out to buy a present, any present, for each friend and member of the family, just because it’s expected that you give them something. It ends up being something they don’t like, don’t want and don’t need.
Of course I do want to put my creative energy into meaningful gifts for special people, like my boyfriend, but what sort of present do you get for the person who has everything? We were both at a loss, as usual, in the lead-up to Christmas.
Then, surprise – surprise, my boyfriend came up with a great idea. It turned out to be so good that I want to share it, as I’m sure it would work for others, and we’ll certainly do it again ourselves. In fact, I’m already looking forward to next Christmas!
Here’s what happened.
As I set off for work one day in early December, I said to Brendan (that’s my boyfriend): “We need to talk…” [I’ve heard they’re the four words men most dread!] “…about Christmas. Think about what you might want as a Chrissie present and we’ll talk when I get home.”
Reluctantly he agreed, and responded with: “You know how much I hate Christmas, with the expectations of buying presents for everyone. But OK, I’ll give it some thought if you promise to come up with come ideas for what you want too.”
Several times during the day at work I turned my mind to what I might like or need, but I came home that evening still without a single idea.
“Haven’t thought of anything yet,” I admitted. “I don’t need anything and I don’t want us to waste money on something that we don’t want or need, or that isn’t useful, or at least amusing.”
He smiled. “Well, I’ve had an idea.”
This was surprising. He didn’t usually have ideas about presents. I’d always suspected that he deliberately procrastinated about presents and cards so that I’d crack first and make suggestions. The buying of presents was almost always me, even presents for him to give people, and even me!
“What’s your idea?” I asked.
He seemed a bit uncomfortable about telling; nervous even, but I dragged it out of him: “Come on, spill your guts! What’s your idea?”
“Well… do you know ‘The Spice of Life’?” he asked.
“I know that variety is the spice of life, if that’s what you mean, but I’ve no idea who coined the phrase. So what?”
“No, not that,” he replied, blushing a little. He was always so much in control that I always found a rare display of discomfort or embarrassment charming and a little arousing.
“The Spice of Life is the sex shop in town. Down there on Capel Street. Do you know what I mean?”
“Oh… yes,” I replied. “I’ve walked past it many times, so I know where it is, but I’ve never been inside. Sex shops always seem sort of seedy and uninviting. I’ve never been able to understand why they seem to appeal to blokes.”
I wasn’t at all sure where he was going with this. Perhaps he was about to tell me that I’d find his perfect gift in there. I wasn’t keen on the prospect of visiting The Spice of Life all by my own self. What if one of my friends spotted me going in? Or worse, what if someone I knew was in there at the time?
I pressed him for more information.
“Well here’s my idea,” he responded. “Let’s go there together and agree that we’ll buy the toy of the other’s choosing as their present – and we won’t leave until we’ve succeeded. You choose something for your present – anything you like – and I’ll buy it for you, and then I’ll choose something for you to buy for me. We’ll wrap them up and open them on Christmas morning. What do you think?”
I was hesitant at first. As I said, I’d never been keen on visiting a sex shop and I’d always thought of them as uninviting. Shopping on the internet was so much more pleasurable. However, the idea grew on me and I did want to give him positive feedback for coming up with something, which was rare and therefore to be encouraged. I also started to think that it would be an opportunity for me to get some more insight into what turned him on, though I thought I already knew that well enough!
For me, though, I’d never let myself think much about sex toys and whether they might be worth trying, and I’m not in the habit of scrolling through pages of toys in on-line catalogues. I’d always had a vibrator, but maybe going to a sex shop might reveal something new that would be a turn-on for me. I found myself thinking: “What does ‘for me’ mean – something to stimulate me or something for me to use to stimulate him?” Either would bring me pleasure, I decided.
So I agreed, and we settled on Thursday the following week after work (Thursdays are late-night-shopping days for us) to explore The Spice of Life and buy each other’s Christmas presents.
I went to look The Spice of Life up on the internet, to prepare a bit for what I might choose as a present when we got there. I found it quickly enough on Google, amongst entries for Indian restaurants, spice stores, sex shops in several countries and continents, and even an on-line dating service in Australia!
The ‘Spice of Life – Adult Boutique’ also described itself as a ‘Women’s clothes shop’! The images on their Facebook page suggested that it was anything but. There were photos of vibrators, dildos, dominatrix boots, fetish kits, blow-up dolls, realistic pussy moulds described as ‘male masturbators’. and a new line of lubes. OK, there was a picture of a sexy looking red-and-black satin-and-lace corset, as a concession to the women’s clothing claim.
I was amused by the tag-line on their web site: We sell naughty things to nice people. There was also a statement that they were the city’s only ‘female adult store’, whatever that was intended to mean. I’m not sure why that gave me a feeling of reassurance because I knew full well that these were only marketing lines, unlikely to bear any relationship with reality.
I clicked on ‘Women’s Toys’ in the menu and was instantly overwhelmed by page after page of penises! Ten to a page, there were dildos of every shape, size, colour and vibration. There would be no way to choose. Would I ask for a strap-on as my gift from him, and then use it on him? That was an exciting thought. I’d often wondered what it would feel like to be the boy, and fuck Brendan with a dildo. But then again, maybe not; I’d never liked the look of all those straps and buckles. It seemed to me that the fuss of getting a strap-on on would be a turn-off, not that I’d ever tried it! Nevertheless, I felt myself getting moist as I clicked through the pages of strap-ons, some of them improbably large… and more-than-improbably coloured!
Then I came across one called the ‘Tantus Feeldoe Slim Dildo’. No straps, and a brief statement promising us both ‘complete ecstasy’. There were also lots of comments from ‘satisfied users’. That might be interesting, I thought, but I couldn’t imagine how it could possibly stay inside me as I fucked him. I started to feel turned on by the thought of trying.
I wasn’t sure Brendan would be comfortable with the thought of my penetrating him, but I was certain that he’d be turned on by me, naked, with an erect cock sticking out from between my legs! I would be anyway… if fact I already was!
I noticed that the ‘Feeldoe’ had ridges molded into the base of the cock, which seemed to be in just the right place to rub my clit while I was plunging into him. Fantasizing about this for a few moments, I enjoyed the sexy feeling of warmth and wetness welling up inside me as I imagined the feeling of pressure against my g-spot as the dildo pushed into him, and the raised ribs stimulating my clitoris at the end of each stroke. Yes… I really wanted to try this.
What if I chickened out on the ‘strapless strap-on’ when I saw it in ‘the flesh’? I thought I should have a back-up. I clicked on the ‘Fetish’ menu and was presented with a couple of pages of nipple clamps. Who’d have thought! If I chose one of these, he’d probably think I wanted to ‘wear’ them myself, but it would be his present to me so I could do with them as I wished… and I wished to put them on him. He had sensitive nipples and he always said that my nibbling, pinching, tickling and sucking really stimulated him, strengthened his erection, and made him seep. So maybe we’d see how he liked clamps, leaving my mouth, lips, tongue, teeth and fingers free for other things.
I wondered what would he choose for me to buy as his present? Would it tell me things I didn’t already know about his fantasies? Was there something he wanted in his sex life but was reluctant to articulate? I knew I’d have to wait until our visit to The Spice of Life to find out but the anticipation was exciting, and thoughts of it kept distracting me at work over the following week.
2. Testing Time with the Toys
Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before.
What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store.
What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more?
Dr Seuss (Author of children’s books)
When the day came, we set off together like a couple of nervous but excited young lovers working up the courage to go in to a chemist to buy a packet of condoms. We parked around the corner from Capel Street and, after checking up and down for anyone we might know, we ducked quickly into the shop.
A buzzer sounded as the door opened, alerting the shop assistant to our arrival. She looked up from the counter and smiled a cheerful ‘hello’. I expected the shop to be full of seedy old men in raincoats, but no, there was only a couple of couples, both our age or a bit older, and nobody we knew – what a relief! And there was a pre-Christmas sale on: ‘Buy two ‘novelties’ and get a third (of lesser value) for 50% off.’
“Ok,” Brendan said, “let’s go and choose what you might want for Christmas.”
“No,” I replied. “This was your idea, so you show me yours first.”
“Alright then. I’ve already decided. Come over here.” He led me over to the fetish section, where there was a large array of whips, riding crops, paddles – among other instruments of torture.
“A whip,” he said, in a conspiratorial, daring sort of tone.
“So you want to be whipped!” I blurted out in a whisper, looking around furtively to see if anyone was eavesdropping. Then I immediately thought that maybe he wanted to be the one to wield the whip, not be the subject so I quickly shut up.
“Which one do you prefer?” I asked, recovering my composure. “The one with the flat leather paddle on the end, like a riding or the one with the leather thongs at the end, like a cat-o-nine-tails? Or just the straight whip… or even the tickler, with red and black feathers on the end of the stick!”
“I… I… I’m not sure,” he replied haltingly. “This is new to me. I’ve never been shopping for whips before!”
He did look decidedly uncomfortable, as if he were regretting his Christmas idea, which was taking him outside his comfort zone. But now we were there, and the shop seemed less seedy or intimidating than I’d imagined, I was warming up to the job in hand and starting to enjoy myself.
“Ok, let’s try them out,” I suggested, picking out the riding crop and handing it to him. “Here, see if it works.”
I glanced around to check that there was nobody else in our aisle, and then bent over, lifting the hem of my skirt to reveal my bare cheek. I could hear his gasp as he realized that I was naked beneath my skirt, not even a thong.
“Go on, try it out,” I goaded. “Don’t be a chicken.”
I jumped and tried to stifle a sharp cry when the leather strap slapped against my bare buttock, quite a bit harder and more painful than I expected, exacerbated by the loud slap of leather against taught flesh. I stood up and whirled about to admonish him, but stopped when I saw a look of confused surprise on his face and a distinct bulge in his crotch.
“I’m s… s… sorry love,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to do that so hard.” He looked a bit shocked at himself, but it had clearly turned him on – was it the thought of it, or the sight of my bare bum, or the act of whipping?
The stinging had stopped by now, and I think I was a bit turned on myself, though I couldn’t tell if it was the slap that was the cause of the stimulation, or the thought that he was getting aroused, or merely his discomfort and embarrassment. I’m not sure what made me do it, but I took the crop from him and hung it back up on the rack, taking down the whip with the leather thongs and handing it to him.
“Now I dare you to see what this one’s like,” I challenged.
With that, I quickly turned around again and hitched up my skirt to present my other cheek. I clenched my teeth, waiting for the whish and stinging pain, more prepared this time. I could feel myself getting wet with the anticipation. Just as I was starting to stand up to see what was taking so long, I heard the swish instantly followed by a sharp pain – this time with almost no sound of leather on flesh. It was not just on my cheek this time, but the thongs had clearly wrapped around by bum and onto the back of my thigh, and the thin leather didn’t make much noise. But it did sting… more than a sting. I let out a sharp cry of surprise mixed with pain.
Eyes watering, I stood up quickly to look at his face. He was smiling this time, and as I drew breath to protest the strength of his stroke, something behind him caught my eye. My pulse raced when I saw another couple at the end of our aisle, staring at us.
“Are you OK?” the man mouthed? I nodded.
Then came a woman’s loud voice from the front of the shop – near the counter. “What’s going on there?” the voice demanded.
Brendan smiled and said loudly: “It’s OK, we are just testing out your whips.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” was the sarcastic reply. “CCTV.”
“Oh my God,” I whispered to my boyfriend as I looked up and around. Sure enough, there was a camera at the end of each aisle, and the one near us was showing a red flashing light. I blushed deeply, wondering in a panic how I would ever get out of the store; how could I ever face the sales assistant?
“You try, you buy,” came the woman’s disembodied voice again. “That’s our policy.”
“Y… yes,” I spoke up, somewhat feebly. “He’ll take this one.” I stared intensely at Brendan, daring him to disagree. He nodded in acquiescence.
“Now it’s your turn,” he said in response.
Oh yes… it was my turn to choose what I wanted. I had blocked that out, I think, with the prospect of facing up to the sales assistant at the front. Struggling to regain my composure, I took him by the hand and led him around to the back wall of the shop, which was adorned with racks of dildos. Slowly I walked along the racks, pausing every now and then to take down a package and examine it carefully:
Dildo sleeve which fits over an erect cock… shook my head
An over-sized vibrating cock, with a flashing light in the head of it, and a motor controlling twisting, bending and buzzing… nope.
Strap-on, with vibrating bullet… possibly.
And then, the Tantus Feeldoe Dildo, the one I’d seen on the website. It was shiny bright purple.
Just as I took the package off the hook, a voice close behind me said with a laugh: “No, you can’t try that out!” I jumped. It was the sales assistant. I blushed again, and Brendan looked decidedly uncomfortable.
“How can I help you?” she asked cheerily and smiled at me. I smiled back. “Have you tried these?” she asked. “They’re not for everyone but they are worth experimenting with, because when they work, they’re incredible.”
This was starting to feel like a normal transaction at a normal ‘women’s clothing’ shop!
“Um… how would I know if it is right for me?” I asked.
“Well…” She paused as she formulated a reply. “You can’t just put it in and expect it to ‘behave’ just like a strap-on. You actually have to hold it in, using a combination of your ‘inside muscles’ and being selective about your positions. It gets even more difficult to keep it in when you get excited, hot and slippery. You’ll also need to get over the thought that you are fucking to please him. That won’t work, as you won’t be able to keep it in. The angles will be all wrong. You’ll need to move in a way that pleases you. Press into him in ways that thrill your clit and your g-spot. Have an intimate, slow-grind fuck rather than uncontrolled thrusting. It really presses against your g-spot – can you cope with that?”
I shivered a bit with a tingling sensation in my g-spot as she spoke. This was not the sort of conversation I’d ever had in private with anyone, let alone in public with a sales assistant! I could feel myself getting excited, hot and slippery too, and betraying this with the flush growing on my face!
“I think I could cope with that,” I responded, trying to sound experienced with different sorts of g-spot stimulation and implying that I was competent with a strap-on. As if! I’d never even held one, far less worn it. “It sounds as though it will need a bit of practice, though,” I added.
“Look, love, what’s the worst that can happen? If you can’t fuck him with it, mark my words, you can’t go past a dildo with a cock for a handle! You pull on the cock and you get the response – where and when you want it. When lover-boy’s away, you’ll be able to give yourself the best orgasms with one of these. Believe me, I know. You can go at it all night, with no RSI!”
“Maybe that’s too much information,” I giggled. “But I think I’m sold. Can you advise us on which brand is best – the Tantus or the Fun Factory?”
“Hmmm,” she mused. “There’s not an easy answer to that, because we women are all so different, especially our sexual anatomy.” She looked at Brendan and added: “Aren’t we?”
She picked one off the rack and handed it to him. He looked decidedly awkward, as if he were worried she was going to ask him about his anal sex experiences, which added up to approximately zero!
“This is the ShareVibe – it’s the one made by Fun Factory. It looks pretty classy and feels great to touch, but it does require a lot of lube, and it will really fill you up, unless you are really big inside or well used to big dildos.” She looked at me and raised a questioning eyebrow. I shook my head.
“What about you?” she asked Brendan.
“Er… what?” he responded blankly.
“Are you used to taking in a big dildo or strap-on?”
“Um, no not really,” he responded. “Actually, not at all.”
She laughed and nudged me. “High time he tried it then,” she whispered conspiratorially. “If you’re doing it to him, I bet he’ll like it.”
Then she picked another one from the rack and handed it to me. “This is the Realdoe Dildo – to you like the rhyme?” she laughed. “It’s the same as the Feeldoe but in the skin colour. I prefer it because I find it pretty hard to imagine that a shiny purple dong is actually part of me. And that’s what you want to imagine with a strap-on, isn’t it… that it’s actually part of you. And the slim model’s perfect for beginners. It’s not that you’ll be able to keep it inside you any easier, but it will slip into your lover much more smoothly.”
She winked at Brendan and he responded with a nervous laugh and a blush.
“The slim-oh real-doe dil-do it is then,” I said in a sing-song voice with a giggle.
The assistant laughed. “Good choice,” she said. She led us to the counter, carrying our two presents and pausing on the way to point out the merits and shortcomings of each of the sex toys we passed.
“Now, what about our ‘special’?” she asked, before she rang up the prices for the dildo and the whip. It is 50% off a third toy, as long as it is cheaper than either of your two purchases. So you can look at something for less than £20. Of course, if you find something that’s more expensive, you can make that one of your main purchases and have 50% off the whip.
I looked at Brendan, who was obviously still way outside his comfort zone, beads of perspiration breaking out on his forehead. But I could also detect the remnants of the bulge in his crotch, so he was still finding this uncomfortable experience more than a little arousing.
“I’ll toss you for it,” I offered, getting out a coin from my purse. “Heads I choose, tails you lose?”
He laughed at my joke and waited for the toss. Heads – I chose.
I took him by the hand and let him back to the ‘Fetish section’; past the whips to the nipple clamps. This was not going to be straightforward, because the array of nipple clamps was unbelievable: nipple tweezers, adjustable and non-adjustable clamps, clamps connected with a heavy chain.
“If you’re going to use that whip on me,” I whispered in his ear, “I’m going to use one of these on you. You get to choose which one.”
Brendan started to get into it, taking each one down and reading the package out loud. He settled on some called ‘adjustable bulldog nipple clamps’ because it seemed that it was possible to vary the pressure in the clamp, and he was nervous about how much nipple-pain he could take.
We went back to the checkout and completed our purchases, with a bit more of a chat with the friendly shop assistant as we did. “Oooh, you’ll like those,” she said as she wrapped the nipple clamps. “Who are they for?”
“Him,” I said quickly, gesturing to Brendan.
He put on a brave smile and nodded. “Can’t wait,” he said sarcastically.
“Don’t keep them all to yourself, dear,” she said to him. “She’ll find them pretty stimulating too… I’ll guarantee it. Make sure you share the pleasure!”
She finished ringing up our purchases, and put them in a bold pink carry-bag that clearly advertised The Spice of Life – Selling Naughty Things to Nice People. Just what I wanted to be seen carrying around town. Not.
“Thank you,” she said cheerily. “See you next year!”
We left the shop quickly and bolted back to the car, worried that we’d be spotted with our ‘naughty things’. We sat in the car and looked at each other, a bit breathless from a novel experience that we’d both found exciting and arousing. And then we drove quickly home.
Toy Story must have been written by a woman; who else would name their toys Woody and Buzz?!
FemaleOutlaw (Web-based author and cartoonist)
As soon as we got home, we sat down at the kitchen table to wrap the presents, to make sure we would not be tempted and would wait till Christmas. We got out the wrapping paper and sticky tape and unpacked our purchases. They seemed very out of place on the kitchen table!
“That was a fun outing!” I exclaimed, laughing. “I enjoyed it, and I didn’t expect to.”
“Me either,” Brendan agreed. “I certainly didn’t expect you to be presenting your bare bum to me in the middle of the shop… with people watching… and on TV! That gave me the biggest hard-on,” he admitted.
“It turned me on too,” I agreed.
I reached under the table and slid my hand up his thigh and into his crotch. His hard-on had returned, just talking about it.
“So you like the thought of whipping my bare bum, do you? I think you enjoyed it in the shop. This bulge gave you away.”
I stood up and leaned over him to plant a passionate kiss on his lips, urgently probing his mouth with my tongue as if it was my Realdoe fucking his mouth. I was feeling so horny I couldn’t keep my hands off him. I pulled him up out of his chair and opened his belt and fly before sitting on the chair in front of him, pulling down his jeans and cupping the swelling in his undies with both hands. Slipping a finger into the waistband of his undies, I stretched it out. His cock flicked up, released, hard and almost purple with desire.
I pulled his undies down and clamped my mouth over the end of his cock. He groaned and put his hands on my head, and started to move his hips in response to the flicking of my tongue on his shaft.
“Oh no, not yet,” I said. “It’s not time for you to come yet.”
I stood up and pulled his shirt off, then pushed him back onto the kitchen table, among our new sex toys and the wrapping paper. His erection pointing towards the ceiling like a mast. I climbed up onto the table, hitched up my skirt and knelt astride him, pleased at my brazen decision not to wear knickers. Guiding his cock with one hand, I slowly lowered myself down onto his shaft, and then further down, and further, until he filled me completely. I paused there, motionless, with my skirt draped over us, and I closed my eyes to focus on the sensations inside me, shuddering.
With my right hand I reached under the hem of my skirt and stroked up the inside of my thigh with my fingers, until I could feel my clitoris, and the root of the rock-hard cock it was enclosing. I slid my fingers along my clitoral shaft and pressed, flicked and rubbed until I was close to coming. Only then did I lift myself to slide back up his shaft again, and then back down. He groaned with the pleasure of release from cunctation.
I put my hands on his chest to give me more control as I rode his cock, sliding up and down. I pinched his nipples, hard, between my fingers, which triggered his release, and I could feel the warm cum pumping into me. I was right on the edge myself, and squeezed hard with my pelvic muscles to milk him while riding up and down on his cock again once, twice and then a final time, as my own orgasm came flooding over me. It seemed to last for ages and at last I flopped down onto his chest, enjoying the slow dissipation of my contractions and the slippery relaxation of his cock.
After a few moments allowing myself to revel in the slow relaxation and release, I climbed off him and the table to look for tissues.
“Wow!” he said. “Going to a sex shop really turned you on, didn’t it?”
“Oh, right… and it didn’t make you at all horny!” I retorted.
“I’m sorry if I hit you too hard in the shop,” he said affectionately. “I didn’t mean to hit that hard. Lack of practice I guess! But anyway, you deserved more than a reprimand for baring yourself in public. You deserved a whipping.”
“I know,” I responded meekly. “I must be punished for being so bad,” I added, slipping in to the role of the submissive. “How long must I wait for my punishment, master?”
“You must wait till Christmas, but then you will pay – make no bones about it,” he replied ominously.
Every time I thought about it, I could feel the mixture of pleasure and pain from the whip strokes Brendan had given me in the shop. I wondered whether it would be different when he opened his present and had the whip in his hand, in the privacy of our own home. I was curious about whether I’d get aroused myself, or whether my pain would just be his pleasure. I resolved to experiment with that when he was dominating me, to see whether he was especially turned on when I cried out loudly and writhed around, pleading for clemency, rather than silently and stoically taking my punishment.
I must admit that I also spent a lot of time imagining how he’d respond when I slipped my Realdoe inside me and pranced around him with my erection; whether he’d find that sight as sexy as I was sure I would. And how would he react when I entered him and pushed my new cock deep inside, piercing all his resistance and having my way with him? The thought of it made me really excited. So excited that several times it distracted me from the boring work project I was meant to finish off before Christmas. A work colleague had nearly caught me masturbating at my desk, jiggling and rocking back and forth on my chair with my leg tucked up under me, and my ankle putting pressure in just the right place. At least I was staring at the computer screen, even if I wasn’t seeing it!
It was a tantalizing few days as we each anticipated what might be going to happen when we opened our presents.
4. The Real Feel of Christmas
Good girls go to heaven. Bad girls go everywhere.
Helen Gurley Brown (Cosmopolitan Editor in Chief for 32 years)
At last it was Christmas morning. We sat up in bed with our morning coffee, our presents before us.
“Who’s going first?” I asked.
“Toss a coin,” Brendan said, with a laugh. “But you always win anyway!”
I tossed, and again I won. He handed me my present, with a kiss and “This is from me… I love you.”
I unwrapped it, revealing the Realdoe in its tamper-proof packaging. Almost impossible to open, so I had to get the scissors. I stroked the shaft, and then the bulby end, which would be going inside me. I wondered if I’d be able to keep it in, especially as I’d have to cover it with lube to insert it.
“OK,” Brendan interrupted, “Now me. Where’s my present?”
“Oh, be patient.” I admonished. “You’ll get yours. But first you need to help find out how this works. Pass the lube.”
He reached into his bedside drawer and passed me the bottle of Sylk, our favourite lube. I squeezed it on to the end of the bulb, and then applied some more around and inside my vulva.
“You just watch,” I said sternly. “Remember, watching is helping!” He seemed content to watch, and I noticed that his hand was straying towards his own ‘dildo’ under the bed covers.
I sat up against the pillows and bent my legs, thinking briefly that, in movies, this was the position women were depicted in during childbirth! I grabbed my Realdoe by the shaft, and used the leverage to direct the bulbous end between my legs and into my crack, sliding it firmly along the side of my clitoris. It took a bit of wiggling to find the right angle and pressure. It was challenging, as a clinical task – without foreplay! Way more difficult than taking in a big cock or dildo when I was ‘fully dilated’!
With persistence, my muscles gave way briefly, after resisting strongly, and the bulb slid quickly in. I could feel them tightening up again around the narrow neck of the toy. The bulb did fill me up, and it really did press against my g-spot. What was I saying about foreplay? I held the shaft with both hands, as the shop assistant had suggested, and used it to move the bulb around inside me, and to exert pressure on my clitoris, which was starting to respond.
“It’s in!” I announced. I stood up, and there it was – an instant erection. “Look, no hands!” I cried with excitement. Lifting my arms above my head and gyrating my hips. I did a couple of pelvic tilts, mimicking a guy’s fucking movements. It did feel like gravity was trying to pull it out of me but tensing my pelvic floor muscles helped. Thank goodness for pilates, I thought, and all those kegels I’ve been doing!
There was more movement under the covers about the position of Brendan’s crotch. “What do you think you’re doing?” I challenged. “I’m playing with mine too. Let’s see who comes first!” I started lasciviously running my fingers up and down my new cock, making the moaning and groaning sounds I’d heard him make when he was masturbating.
I pranced round, my erection bouncing up and down and putting nearly unbearable pressure on my g-spot with each downward bounce. He couldn’t take his eyes off me. Neither could I! I looked down at this realistic dick-like projection coming out of me. He couldn’t keep his hands off his cock, under the covers, and I couldn’t keep my hands off mine either, sliding them up and down it and every so often grasping it firmly and twisting to test the sensations deep inside me. I liked it so much I pranced until I was totally out of breath and could feel the bulb starting to slip out of me.
“Now my other present,” I announced. “I can open both of them, can’t I, because I won the toss?” Brendan was clearly aroused by my display in front of him and was not about contradict, so I opened the next present.
“Oh… nipple clamps!” I feigned surprise. “I might need these. But first…” I added crudely, “I’m going to fuck you. Up your ass.”
I sat on the edge of the bed. The bulb inside me pushed up with the pressure, and I could feel the ribs on the shaft squeezing against me. I wriggled a bit to put them in a good position.
“Kneel down,” I demanded. “Suck my cock and get me warmed up.”
He seemed a little uncertain but he complied, gingerly pouting his lips and kissing the tip of my shaft, and then sliding the head of it right into his mouth.
“More,” I demanded. “Hold it, lick it, suck it.”
He did as he was told. He seemed to be losing his reticence and getting into the moment. He was using his tongue and lips with dedication and enthusiasm. It briefly occurred to me that I should pay close attention to this, as it would give me ideas about what stimulated him the most. I found the sight of him doing fellatio on me, and visibly enjoying it, very stimulating mentally, and the rhythmic movement of the bulb inside me every time he grabbed my shaft to pull his head down onto it was certainly physically stimulating – the perfect combination of mental and physical.
“Now get up onto the edge of the bed,” I ordered, “and lie back with your knees bent.”
I stood before him, squeezing lube from the bottle into the cup of my hand and then smearing it up and down my cock, making moaning noises as I did so. The sound effects were not just for show, to stimulate him, bu I was getting electric shocks of stimulation every time my movements caused the Readoe to hit a sensitive spot.
I moved to stand between his legs, holding my erection in one hand and applying lube liberally to his ring with the other. I could see he was wanting to be fucked like this, but he was also instinctively resisting. There was a pained expression on his face and his eyes were screwed up. It seemed like he was in serious discomfort as I guided the tip of my cock into his hole. I started to pull back out.
“No… no, don’t stop,” he gasped. “It’s just a barrier, a psychological barrier. Keep the pressure on. Push it in. Fuck me.”
Still holding my shaft with one hand, I edged it slowly in, millimeter by millimeter, feeling the pressure on my g-spot as I did so, until I was right inside him. My pubic bone was tight up against his perineum and trapping his balls. His erection swelled and pointed upwards and I noticed his nipples growing erect as well. That reminded me of the clamps.
I reached forward to pick them up from the bed beside him. Without moving my cock from deep inside him, I applied them to his nipples and twisted the little screws on the side, tightening them and causing him to exhale deeply and then grit his teeth. I’d say it was painful, and he appeared to me enjoying the pain. Leant forward like this, I was trapping his ramrod and balls between his belly and mine. I could feel his cock twitching as I tightened each clamp. All the time I was squeezing tightly inside to keep the dildo from slipping out of me. The pressure on my g-spot was almost overwhelming – a feeling of being completely filled and stretched, while the stimulation of the spot was making me weak at the knees.
He groaned but remained motionless, the look on his face betraying the fact that he was also overwhelmed with sensations, my cock deep inside him. I moved my hips a little – carefully. The woman in the store was right: ‘An intimate, slow-grind fuck rather than uncontrolled thrusting,’ was what she’s said. ‘Press into him in ways that thrill your clit and g-spot…’
I did just that, and could feel his cock responding against my belly. I stood up straighter again and lubed his cock and my belly, and leaned back over him again and resumed my slow grind, my belly massaging his cock and balls as my cock slid deep inside him. He was clearly right on the edge of losing control and coming, so I quickly released his nipple clamps. He moaned again, and started panting as the blood started to flow back in, and then he came, the hot, sticky emission spreading between our adherent bodies. The rhythmic pumping of his orgasm coming from deep in his bum caused a twitching of the dildo, which I could feel as a tapping on my g-spot – mmmm, very stimulating.
As his orgasm subsided and his erection dissipated, I slowly slid my cock out of him. He shuddered several times as it passed particularly sensitive spots. I pulled the Realdoe out of me, and shivered as the bulb came out with a slurpy ‘pop’.
5. Unwrapped and Unleashed
Happy happy, joy joy,
I'm your kinky sex toy.
Bite me, lick me, scratch my back,
and give my ass a lil smack!
FemaleOutlaw (Web-based author and cartoonist)
I was still sexed up and energetic; Brendan looked shagged out and spent! No wonder; he’d had a challenging experience. I volunteered to get up and make us breakfast in bed – crumpets with butter and honey, and another strong coffee. We sat up in bed munching on our crumpets and sharing our reactions to the new experience.
He admitted to being really turned on by the look of me with ‘my’ dildo, and then by the mental and physical sensations of being fucked. He said that he must have a g-spot too, as my cock pressing inside him really hardened his erection and heightened his orgasm.
“But you didn’t come,” he said with concern. “Wasn’t it stimulating for you?”
On the contrary, I’d found it really arousing… all of it. The novelty, the feel of my hard-on to the touch, the sensations inside me, the pressure on my g-spot, the look of his arousal.
“Yes, it was stimulating,” I replied. “But the ridges that looked like they’d be rubbing my clit did nothing for me at all. I loved the feelings inside me and enjoyed every movement, but perhaps it was too all-encompassing to allow me to focus on building an orgasm. I wanted to make you come though… you know how much I like watching your face as your orgasm builds up and explodes. I could actually feel your pumping through my dildo – maybe that’s why they called it a ‘Feeldoe’!”
“I’m turned on now, alright,” I added. “That shop assistant said that ‘if all else failed’, I could use the cock part as a handle and masturbate. In fact, that’s what I think I’ll do now, while you watch. That’d be exciting.”
He knelt up and climbed astride me, grabbing my wrists and pinning them to the pillow above my head. “That’d be naughty,” he conradicted. “And you’ve been naughty enough this morning already.” Apparently that was a question, as he added: “Haven’t you?” and then again: “Haven’t you?”
“Yes,” I responded meekly, willingly joining his game. “Very naughty.”
“So, you will keep your hands well away from your big dick, which – by the way – is still erect, unlike mine, and sit quietly whilst I open my present.”
“Yes,” I said again. “Whatever master wishes.”
He slowly unwrapped his present. Even though we both knew what it was, it was exciting to watch as he peeled back the wrapping paper, slowly and deliberately, to reveal first the handle, then the shaft and finally the leather thongs of the whip.
“I like it,” he said with a smile. “It’s just what I’ve always wanted, and it is just what I need right now. The perfect present; something I like, want and need! Thank you.”
He bent over to kiss me, hard, on the lips. His tongue darted into my mouth, in and out, as if it were fucking me. I sucked it.
He knelt back up and trailed the cluster of leather thongs over my body, starting with my hands, still raised above my head, then down my arms, circled my breasts, flicked across my nipples, which were quickly aroused and stood up, then down over my belly and down each leg, from my thigh to my toes, and then the soles of my feet.
“Where are you most sensitive, I wonder?” he said.
“I’m not telling,” I responded.
“Careful,” he admonished. “You’ve already been bad. Anyway, I wasn’t talking to you.”
He opened his bedside table and pulled out a silk tie, the one he never wore and had repurposed as a tether. He used it to tie my wrists together and then fixed the loose end to the bed-head. I watched the lascivious look on his face as he repeated the tantalizing trail with the lashes. I couldn’t help shivering as the leather slid over my nipples and breasts and then, a few seconds later, down between my slightly parted thighs. I could feel goose-pimples all over my body and my nipples were almost painful they were so erect.
Again he climbed astride me, pinning my hips to the bed with his weight.
“What are you going to do to me?” I asked.
He responded gruffly: “Who gave you permission to talk? Keep quiet and don’t make things worse for yourself.”
He looked at my upright nipples, licked his lips wickedly, and then bent down and sucked them, one after the other, nibbling ever-so-gently at the tips. It sent electric shocks throughout my body, ending up in my clitoris. I could feel myself moistening. And I could see his erection growing again. A bead of moisture appeared at the tip. He was getting turned on by his game.
He quoted: “Do not err… whatever one sows, so shall she reap.” It was said as a sort of incantation as he grasped the nipple clamps I’d just used on him and unwound the little screw on each, before applying them to my nipples. The metal was cold and my nipples responded immediately. More electric shocks to my clitoris.
Ever so slowly he started tightening one of the screws, watching my face as he did so. My eyes opened wide with arousal and the anticipation of pain, and I eventually winced when the pain started. I let out my breath, steeling myself for more pain but determined not to give in, not to give him satisfaction. He gave just on more small twist and then turned to the other nipple, and did the same there. The chain between the clamps lay on my chest, as I lay motionless, trying to guess what he might do next.
“Turn over and kneel,” he ordered.
This was more difficult that it might sound, with my arms stretched out above my head and attached to the bed-head, and my nipples being tugged by the chain whenever I moved too sharply. There was enough slack in the tie for me to use my elbows as leverage and turn myself over without being too ungainly. I tucked my legs up under me, thinking that I’d protect myself a little by hunkering down with my naked bum resting on my heels, but that squashed my clamped nipples painfully between my breasts and the bed. So I had to kneel up, resting on my elbows with the chain between the clamps dangling down and swinging to-and-fro, tweaking my already highly sensitized nipples as it did so. I felt so vulnerable like this and I instinctively brought my knees in and clamped my thighs together, even though it made me less stable.
I heard my master clear his throat, about to speak. I’d deliberately stopped thinking of him as Brendan, my boyfriend. Somehow it was more comforting, also more arousing by the way, to transport my mind into the scenario and consider him as the master.
And that’s just what he sounded like when he spoke next: “Here’s why you find yourself in this position,” he said, slowly and deliberately, and in a disapproving tone. “You bared your bum in public. Twice. You danced around naked, as a man, with an erection. You sadistically clamped my nipples, and then violated me. And, to add insult to injury, you threatened to pleasure yourself in front of me using a dildo, forcing me to watch.”
He paused to let this sink in. “Is there anything I have missed?” he added. “Now is the time to admit to anything else. Improper thoughts, fantasies, secret stimulations, for example. If I find anything else later, there will be no mercy.”
He waited as I racked my brains, heart pounding. I had thought of putting the Realdoe inside his bum, to see what he’s look like with two cocks, and even wondered if it would be possible for me to get both of them inside me, the Realdoe in my bum. But how could he possibly know about these depraved fantasies? Had I mentioned them out loud? I pushed the thoughts out of my mind and decided to remain silent.
“No master. You are right, I’ve been bad, I know, and promise never to stray again,” I volunteered.
“Don’t make promises you’ve no intention of keeping,” he replied gruffly. “In the meantime, your punishment is still to be decided. Six of the best was the punishment at school for bad misdemeanours. Six strikes with a cane. Two or three strikes for lesser faults.” He paused for effect, and then continued: “Now, what do you think you deserve for your naughtiness? You can decide. If I think it your suggestion is appropriate, then that’s what you’ll get. If I think it’s too slight, you’ll get six of the best plus the difference between six and your suggestion. If your suggestion is more than I deem appropriate, I’ll stop at my number. Do you understand? Do you think that’s fair?”
“Yes, master,” I replied meekly. “I understand and it’s fair. Very reasonable.”
I tried to keep my voice even and remain outwardly calm. Inside, my mind was racing. ‘How many?’ I thought to myself. ‘How many would he consider appropriate? My string of misdemeanours was not too bad, was it? Even he couldn’t think it was. What if I said two – would he accept that? He said two to three was for ‘lesser faults’. But what if he thought six was the right punishment, then I’d get six plus the difference between two and six – ten!’
After the taste of the lash I’d had in the Spice of Life, I didn’t think I could take ten. But I thought I could take four… or maybe even five. Five would be safer – it would give me a maximum of seven if I got it wrong.
I swallowed hard, and announced: “Five of the best – that’s what I think I deserve.” There was no response, just silence, and it dawned on me that he was not going to tell me my punishment, he was just going to do it, leaving me with no idea of how many to anticipate.
I felt some pressure between my shoulders – it was the end of the whip and the leather thongs brushed against my shoulders. He dragged the whip tip gently down my backbone, the thongs trailing behind. Then the pressure moved down the crack between my buttocks. I tensed up with the pressure near my anus and with the tickle of the thongs sliding down my cheeks. He slid the end of the whip between my thighs and I responded to the pressure by spreading my legs a little.
“More,” he ordered, whipping the lashes backwards and forwards between my thighs. “You don’t want to be toppling over now, do you?”
“No master,” I said again, as calmly as I could, though I was starting to tremble a little with the feeling of absolute vulnerability and exposure as well as trepidation for what was about to happen.
“Good,” he said, when he was satisfied with my position. “That looks amazing, actually… the position you are in, your tethered hands, the chain dangling below your breasts. Almost makes me want to abandon the punishment and leap on you to fuck you from behind instead.”
“Oh yes,” I responded. “Yes, master, I’d love that. Do it! I can pleasure you…”
He cut me off before I could finish. “Quiet!” was the order. “Who asked you to talk? Don’t make things …” While he was talking I heard the swish and then a loud slap – accompanied by a stinging pain across both my raised bum cheeks. “… make things any worse,” he finished.
“One,” he added loudly.
He must have been holding back because the pain seemed nothing like I remembered in the shop, but the rocking of the chain on the nipple clamps was certainly causing a reaction. I could feel my nipples hardening. I don’t know whether it was this, the sting of the whip, the anticipation, or my immobilised, exposed state that was causing the wetness between my legs. I didn’t feel particularly aroused mentally, but the physical signs were showing.
There was a long pause, and the stinging subsided as I waited for the next lash. Would it be stronger than the last, I was wondering. I readjusted my elbows as my arms were tiring and my thighs were trembling a little, causing the chain to tug again on my nipples. I turned my head to see what he was doing. He’d put down the whip beside me on the bed and was kneeling up, holding a grand erection. And he was stroking it or, from the movement of his hand, maybe he was spreading lubricant over his straining cock. The sight of this caused a tingling deep inside me and a perceptible swelling around my clitoris. The scenario was certainly turning him on. Was it the feeling of domination? Or perhaps, as he’d intimated, the look of me naked and tethered, bum in the air. Or my crying out as the whip slapped onto my bare flesh. Or maybe the prospect of what he was planning to do next, whatever that might be.
I soon found out what that was, because he noticed that I’d been watching, as he picked up the whip again.
“Who said you could look?” he demanded. “That will be one extra lash to your punishment.”
I turned to look down again, my forehead on the bed, and meekly mumbled “Yes master,” with resignation.
Before I’d finished mumbling, I heard the swish and jumped with the pain of the next strike, a little harder than the last, but still bearable and I didn’t cry out. There was another swish and slap, even before I’d had time to collect myself. The pain this time make me cry out quite loudly because it was on the back of my thighs, just below my bum, and boy did it sting. I registered that there’s been no announcement of ‘two’ and wondered if that had been my extra one.
“That hurt, didn’t it,” he whispered hoarsely. It was more of a statement than a question, so I just nodded my head.
“That’s three,” he stated.
I don’t know why, but I felt relieved at that. Again there was a long pause, but this time I kept my head down. I didn’t want any more lashes on the backs of my thighs.
I felt a gentle touch on the back of my left thigh, which was still stinging. It was his hand, and I trembled as his fingers wriggled softly round between my legs and then upwards to my crack. And then further, as a finger slid between my lips and gently stroked up one side of the erect shaft of my clit and back down the other side. The tip was almost throbbing, crying out to be touched but at the same time pulling back because of feeling too sensitive. Warmth flooded in to my labia and I could feel the wetness spreading inside me. I involuntarily bent my knees so as to slide more firmly down onto his hand.
“This is turning you on,” he remarked, in a surprised tone. “So, you like the whip?”
I wasn’t at all sure how to answer this. To admit that I was enjoying my arousal may have caused it to stop. To deny it may have prompted a change to a different and less stimulating punishment, for telling a lie.
“It stings, my punishment,” is how I answered, eventually. “But it’s making me very hot and wet, I don’t know why or how.”
“Good,” he responded. “Now be quiet.”
With that, I felt his hand sliding round the side of my breast, reaching for the clamp, which he undid. I could feel the blood rushing back into my nipple, and it stood up rock hard and highly sensitive. Then the other one. Wow! That was a sensation I’d never experienced before. Then his hands moved to the insides of my thighs and he forced my knees further apart, to spread my legs. This was followed by the cool, ticklish feeling of the whip with the leather lashes stroking up the inside of my thighs from my knees right up to my wide open pussy, lips swollen and separated and my clitoris shaft erect, hot, wet and protruding. I jumped when the tip of the whip bumped it.
The next thing I felt was sharp stinging sensations, as he flicked the thongs at the tip of the whip from side to side between my legs – small strokes but many of them in quick succession. He started near my knees and worked slowly upwards. I started moaning and squirmed as he got higher, partly from pain and the fear of being flicked on my now pulsating clitoris and partly from excitement that that’s exactly what might be about to happen.
Then I recalled that I had been planning to experiment with his reactions by putting on some crying, moaning and pleading, so that’s what I did. “Aaowwww,” I wailed loudly, wriggling and writhing away from the lashes, and arching my back and spreading my legs further apart to give him a fuller view. “Ouch! That hurts. I promise I won’t do it again.”
Spreading my legs further had been a mistake, as it meant the flicking of the lashes got firmer and more painful. “Aaaaah,” I cried, without elaboration this time, writhing from side to side in an attempt to minimize the power behind each flick of the leather. And I cried out: “Don’t stop, I’ve been bad… punish me master. I deserve it.” And I let out a few loud sobs.
Was that really me crying, crying for more? Could it have been my subconscious pleading for more pain? What had got into me?
Suddenly the flicking ceased and I could feel two hands roughly grabbing my hips, pulling me back. A ramrod stiff cock slid between my legs, and was guided upwards, into me. I moaned a loud “yesssss” as his erection slid slowly but insistently into me, right to the hilt. He let out a long, low groan that lasted until he was fully sheathed inside me. “Ooooh God that’s good!” he sighed as he held that position, hands on my hips pulling me firmly onto him, the tip of his cock pressing against my cervix… it felt like it was right up inside my chest. I was sure he’d be able to feel the rapid beating of my heart right against it.
Resting his hands on my raised bum, he pushed me forwards, his cock pulling at the engorged folds of my labia as he slid slowly out. Grabbing my hips again, he pulled me back onto him, faster this time but every bit as deep. His balls slapped against my clit as he plunged home. As he slid out again, I arched my back, changing the angle so the tip of his cock would slide past my g-spot during his next thrust. It was sensitive, after the pressure from my Realdoe earlier, but after the first couple of strokes the arousal overcame the sensitivity, and I could feel my orgasm building each time he plunged deep into me.
His strokes were getting faster and his body was now curved around my back, his hands pulling back on my shoulders to pull my bum back hard onto his plunging cock. I could feel the muscles tone inside me change as my brain disengaged, my orgasm built up and my juices flowed. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” I heard myself pleading between the moans and wails that escaped my mouth with each assault on my g-spot and slap against my clit.
He gave a big thrust and stopped, impaling me tightly onto his cock. I could feel the rapid pulsations driving his ejaculation as he shuddered and groaned.
“Nooooo,” I wailed. “More! I’m right on the edge. One more.”
He knelt upright again, still twitching deep inside me, and said with an evil laugh: “Maybe stopping now will be your punishment!”
My heart sank… and then leapt again as resumed thrusting into me with his still-erect cock, faster and faster, urging me on with commands like “I’m going to fuck you hard”, “you’re so fucking hot”, and “you’ve been so bad, I’m going to fuck you till you come.” And he put his arms around me and reached for my nipples, pinching them hard as he slid into me again. It took me over the edge, and my own contractions started somewhere deep inside me and rhythmically squeezed around his cock, exploding throughout my body.
We both fell exhausted to the bed, and he untied my chafed wrists. We pulled the covers over us and lay holding each other for ages, while our bodies recovered. Eventually, Brendan broke the silence. “Do you feel punished?” he asked. “I had been planning to give you the full six of the best, especially as it seemed to be turning you on so much, but then I got so horny myself I had to abandon my plan and get inside you – especially the way you looked, naked, bum in the air, with bright red lash stripes on the white of your cheeks and thighs. Irresistible!”
“Actually, I feel rewarded more than punished!” I responded. “So you did not discharge the full sentence?”
I threw off the covers, rolled over, and grabbed the whip from beside the bed.
“I’m confiscating your whip,” I said. Then I added, in an ominous, threatening tone: “You can obviously not be trusted to carry through… there will be consequences… you shall be punished for this, at a time and place of my choosing.”
I looked down at him on the bed. He was trying to pull a contrite, apologetic, pleading face, but a growing erection gave away how he was really feeling about it.
Copyright © 2016 Crystal Knight. This is an original work. It may not be reproduced or distributed in any form without the written permission of the author.