#588) Feeling Frisky

Covid-19 is nothing to fool around with; it really hit me hard! I’m finally feeling better, not completely well, but getting there. And I’m feeling frisky… there’s no man here to take me in-hand, I’m standing nakey in front of my computer, which brings back all sorts of sense-memories, bringing back all kinds of pleasant sensations, touching softly, tickling teasingly, needing to address my needs with more pressure, more blatantly, using both hands, using myself hard, fingers in all my orifices, bringing myself off and feeling guilty because of it, wishing that there was somebody around here who’d be interested in spanking a very naughty girl…

I start out by browsing photos of Bettie. She’s so wholesome, she always makes me feel good to have bi-sexual curiosities. Kissing her would be an adventure full of giggles and compliments and warmth. But she slowly transitions to the Domme I love to fear.

There’s this night versus day duality about her. Warmth and contentment and fun quickly turns to cold-hearted demands that thrill me…

She demands that I suck her nipples, forces my head down in between her smooth thighs to kiss her there, lick and finger and…

My head is yanked backward. I’m gagged because I was the least little bit reticent to push my tongue into her recesses…

Suddenly, I’m in a comic book page of a Gwendolynn novella. I can always discern my internal mood by whether I see myself as the whipper or the whippee. Today I find myself tightly bound to a sapling tree, unable to move a muscle as my backside is thoroughly flogged. My Mistress is hard on me, laughing at my pleas, bearing down on me harder if I dare beg for mercy, the lash my only connection to reality, seeing only red hot pain as I’m beaten, but imagining her pert breasts swaying with each stroke of the whip, knowing that she’s working herself up, working up a sweat as she works my backside into a mass of welts, dreaming of the humidity in her jodhpurs, the creaminess of her maidenhead and steaminess of her ass crack, praying that I’ll be given another opportunity to prove my subservience with my tongue…

I open my eyes to find myself back in college, back in the sorority. During the day, we talked dreamily of finding a man who would fulfill all of our needs. But late at night, one at a time, sisters would crawl into my bed, or I into theirs, where we would do all sorts of unspeakable dirty things to one another, make one another cry out in pain, in longing, in lust as patty-cake turned into spankings and nibble-kisses turned into voracious appetites for clit-licking and rosebud deflowerment…

I need to go back to bed, to take a nap. I’m feeling feverish, sticky and sweaty and sweet-smelling alive again…

2 responses to “#588) Feeling Frisky”

    • No, Sophie Dear, I never belonged to a sorority. I have ALL KINDS of fantasies about the hazing rituals, however, would LOVE to be paddled in front of the other pledges, and watch their bottoms get whacks!

      Like

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