Blog : Make My Music Dec 2018

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2/11/2019 2:09 pm

Make My Music Dec 2018

“You were away for long,” spoken as I lay in the large tub, working my soreness away with the Lily of the Valley bath salts you brought for the Holiday. “Almost too long, you know. I may move away myself someday.” Standing, I show myself to you. “You did well. All day play. You made my skin so, so hot. But no lasting marks – just the one inside my thigh which will be gone by Noon. I don’t think I will cover it much until the afternoon, just to watch it grow a bit more then fade. My titties are still sore, on the outside. Not from where you bound them, just from your thong. I will wrap myself in the red tulle cape you brought home for me. I can watch my body repair. Did it come home with me?”

“Yes, you left it on the divan near the fire. I liked how you wore it last evening. It opens as you walk, revealing your thighs and your pussy. Sometimes I wonder whether I like your thighs more than your pussy. It is a close race. Good thing they are inseparable.” “Please keep the fire strong, I want the heat to continue and the light shines through the cape so that I can see my breasts and recall how they stood out to your hands and toys.”

“Where was that loft you found for our play?” “Towards the river, an old wharehouse from the Prohibition Era.” “You knew I was terrified when you made me lead the way up that dark, narrow, steep, long stone staircase. Black and dark” “Yes, you were slowing halfway, and shaking some. I rubbed your ass to assure you.” “No, you stopped me on the landing, and pushed me into the wall as you reached between my legs. You assured me with your cock sunk into my pussy. You pulled open my new, mostly see through cape and pushed my tits into the cold stone. God, it did the trick. Fright became excitement so, so quickly. I went the rest of the way with my ass swishing back and forth and my tits bouncing to show you how well you do for me.”

“What a wonderful, scary room there was at the top. Dark walls, dark beams, a big wood table and bench, a dark chest was all I could see in the dim light of four candles on stands. I obeyed you, standing near the table, watching as your ropes dropped from the beam overhead. My arms rose and you completed opening my cape, taking it from my body, leaving my skin to glow in the candlelight.”

“You were doing very well. I had missed you these weeks. Had thought of how to rekindle your cravings. I watched your eyes close, your lips part, your nose flare. I watched your breasts push out. I watched your skin glow and your pussy grow out. Pulling your arms up, I slipped the loops on the ropes over your wrists, directing you to hold them tight, not to let go. My own hands then glided all over your body. I applied oil lightly, new oil with cinnamon just for you, warming your skin, giving it more glow. I found your knots and kneaded at them, loosening you.”

“Then your music started. You had never used music before when we were together. You said while you were gone you had prepared a tape of what you thought would best accompany your taking of my body. You said you had practiced with your toys and straps and floggers on a boxing dummy so that you could match the music with your strikes. It was a new experience for us. I loved it. Different tempos. Different styles. You were paced. Some songs flew into a fury, and your strikes flew with the music. Some meandered along and your fine brushes or hands smoothed the heat that was building. That heat was always building. Finally, you tied my breasts. Simple wrap of some of that tulle around my tits. I finally opened my eyes and looked down. They were red already, from your work until then. They stood out. I pushed them out as far as I could. I drove my eyes into yours, watched as you stepped behind me. Watched as the falls of your flogger came around me and struck against my tits. Not many strikes – only the four. Then you moved to my thighs. I pulled my legs open as best I could. Then you brought the bench closer and I could lift my leg up opening myself wide. You slapped my inner thighs, not hard. None of this was hard. But again, the heat rose and rose. You slapped around my pussy. Then pushed your fingers into me, driving digits into my pussy and my ass. I loved it and whimpered my joy as I came and came.”

“You spoke to me the whole time. Described to my closed eyes what you saw. My tremblings, my sheen of light sweat, the glimmer of my wet pussy, You told me how my thigh quivered as you strapped me. You described the tightness of my nipples, how they stood out with their jewels. Your words stroked my ass as your hand glided over and as your words hit me as your straps lay across my cheeks. Communication was good for me. I have trusted you before. Trust is deeper when there are words.”

“What was the music you pulled together?” “Classical such as Ode to Joy, Bolero. Picked the Flash Mob versions because the pace is much more exciting – slowly picking up, more effectively than in concerts. Rolling Stones’ Parachute Woman. Doors Moonlight Drive, Carmina Burana, Fortuna, M83 Nous, Rush 2112 Overture, Enrique Iglesias Bailando, Sibelius Finlandia, La Musa de la Sed, ATB Ecstasy, even Ecstasy of Gold-- and a lot more. I am very happy that it paced well, kept me going and kept you interested, kept you heated and stung, but except for that bruise on your tit, without mark or bruise I am gratified you took pleasure from it, that you allowed yourself to be my canvas to use and manipulate.”

“I had missed you using me. Please undress and join me.” “No, you rise out of there and come here. I have the rest of the day to use you. So much time to repair. This is our Holiday.”


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