I'M BACK

I am back. New posting soon!

For dss

After months of emails and communication, it has come down to this. dss has read and reread my emailed set of instructions, memorized them and now signals with her right blinker as she moves from the middle lane to the far right lane in anticipation of the upcoming exit.

Earlier in the day she deposited her husband and children on the noon flight to Florida. As dusk settles in she has already received the call telling her they've arrived safely in Orlando and she now nervously considers what she is about to undertake and experience over the next few days. Of immediate concern is the weather. While the temperature is in the mid forties, she is wearing only her Burberry trench coat and her best single strand set of pearls. The hand cuffs and blacked out sunglasses are on the seat beside her. She checks her appearance in the mirror for the seventh time. Her dark hair is piled high on her head, the lipstick blood red and heavy eye make up accentuating the color of her eyes.

She exits and waits for the left turn arrow to signal a break in the traffic so she can enter the park and ride off 91 north. Lost in thought and anticipation, the horn behind brings her back from her day dreaming and she accelerates quickly into the lot and parks under the lone light close to the bus shelter nose of the car head in.

She exits the car and surveys the the commuter lot in the darkening afternoon. There is no movement. She hits the lock button of the fob twice-the car locks popping into place, the lights flashing and the horn signaling that her vehicle is secure. She moves into the shelter, faces the bus schedule, places the blacked out sunglasses on, and though rendered sightless she poses as if she's reading the route schedule. She recognizes that if she takes the next step, there will be no turning back. She sighs, hesitates and them withdraws both arms from the sleeves of her Burberry. She places the hand cuff on her left wrist and closes it. She places the left underneath the trench coat behind her back, struggles to place her right behind her back and latches that closed as well. The right closes-latching loudly with a metallic clink. Her stomach flips. She knows what lies in front of her just as surely as she knows there is no turning back now.

The sheltered from the wind she feels the temperature drop and the late afternoon darkens. The wind swirls around her ankles and the chill can be felt through the soles of her black stiletto's. Blinded by the darkened sunglasses, she hears the commuter bus enter the lot circle and hears the hiss of the air brakes outside the shelter. dss can hear muffled good nights, foot steps leading away from the bus and the sound of cars starting and leaving the lot. She hears the valves in the bus' diesel clacking as the engine's rpms increase and it pulls out of the lot leaving her again in silence.

"dss!"

Startled, she turns to face toward the direction of my voice.

I move to her side, take her arm and instruct her to accompany me.

Stumbling in her heels, we move the open rear of my SUV. I strip the trench coat from her body, sweep her up in both arms and throw her into the back of the truck onto a goose down comforter. "On your knees slut.-head down-ass up dss." I spread the cheeks of her ass, smear a generous amount of ben gay onto a hard rubber plug and unflinchingly force the plug into her ass until her sphincter closes around the base. She moans. I throw a second comforter over her, extend the privacy cover over her, close the back and leave her in the dark. I pop the locks and head north for a three hour drive to my dungeon in the mountains bordering the Green Mountain National Park.

Breath Play and dss

A big thing for dss has always been eyes, so when I thrust her against the wall and wrapped my right hand around her throat, I could read her eyes right away. She was taking pleasure, not giving it. And I loved her for knowing that that was what she needed.

Her face didn't give any emotion away; if I didn't know her so well, it would have been easy to believe that she wasn't even turned on by what I was doing. The feeling of not being able to take a breath is different from the feeling of not getting air when you do. It leaves your body feeling empty, void not just of air, but of ability. It leaves you feeling like a shell, merely the casing of what you once were. Human, alive. It is such a perfect feeling for my slut.

Her hands fluttered when she felt she could go on no longer without air, when the world in the corners of her eyes became first blurry, then black- her ability to see, her sense of sight, slowly disappearing, slipping into nothingness. There is no better feeling than completely giving yourself over to a degree such that someone else controls even your senses.

I didn't let go right away. I held fast, staring into her eyes as she struggled to make sound and found (though I had already known) that she could not. Her tongue tried to form words, but with a lack of air, her vocal chords were of no help. Her arms quivered and her body began to shake. I knew that she had orgasmed.

When I let her go, she collapsed into me. Ruffling her hair, I smiled and held her close. "Was that what you needed?" I hadn't asked her for anything, simply took it and yet she had known. She knew that I knew, too. It all happened much faster than she could ever express.

After sometime, we found ourselves wandering the city, I took her to a secluded part of the subway platform, behind the a stairwell where no one could see us and we could hear people coming.

This time, I pressed my entire body against her. She shuddered, knowing full well what my intentions were. I traced my fingers around her neck and asked her if she was scared. It's hard to explain how she feel in these situations. She is frightened, scared out of her mind. But then, it is what she wants: to be scared, to be hurt, to be used.

She only ever meet my eyes when my hand is around her throat. I never instructed her to do so. In these situations, she feels less than me, less than human. I grabbed the front of her neck between thumb and the side of my forefinger and pressed. This was new. It was new and wonderful. In some ways, it was less controlling than usual, but in other ways, it showed how little power I had to exert to put her in her place. It was godly, and it made her shake. She cried out softly when I did so. "Good," I spoke, expressionless as always, "my fuckslut should be always afraid." She can never stop her eyes pleading for pleading for me to let go. My eyes respond with mirth.

The only reason I let her go was a man come around the stairs to await the train. I held her arms against the wall above her head and leaned forward, softly kissing her. It was a show for the man -- the strength in my hands never let her forget what was really going on. I put one hand under her chin, my fingers behind her jaw. I applied more and more pressure, forcing her jaw to jut forward, and stare into my eyes. She knew the threat that was there. The man got on the train and disappeared, looking, somewhat strangely, back at us. Her pleasurable hell resumed again.

I thrust my hips hard into her-- so hard I could feel it in my bones. I told her I was going to use her. She begged. I told her that all I wanted her for was to abuse her for my pleasure. I could see it this time. Her face flickered with feeling for a moment, and her eyes widened. "Oh, I could cum from torturing you." I took her hand and led her to the next train.

B Responds to dss

dss,

No doubt you do enjoy giving head and probably are quite proficient at it as well. After all, you are in control and most men can easily be manipulated by lips and a warm mouth engulfing their cock. Does your husband fit that characterization?

In the alternative, sodomizing your mouth is a totally different experience. The control is gone. The eyes and mascara run, the sinuses drain and the true mouth whore struggles to catch her breath and fights the gag reflex. It is a high for the top-your involuntary whimpering, the moan (music to my ears) and your throat constricting around the cock is definitely an enhancement. Add to that the ignoring of pleading and begging (another high-in fact the more you suffer the more you beg) feeds the sexual sadist in me. Heaving is a plus-especially before I climax. The humiliation of it combined with the verbal critiquing of you inability to give a blow job even a $20 whore can accomplish pushes your further down the path. It's call skull fucking. Have you mastered this ability since then?

The attorney reference is with respect to the seemingly endless questions we ask. The detailed answers we seek. I have lots of questions and will pose them as long as you respond. I hope you will continue. I enjoy your emails as well.

I will post your response but not include your email address. I prefer to keep as much attention as you can provide all mine.

B

Q & A with dss

dss

As an observation, my sense is, and correct me if I am wrong, that you are what I would characterize as being a bucket dumper. That is not pejorative but simply means that your bdsm appetite builds slowly until it is full and then once that "bucket is full" you than seek to empty. The analogy to a bucket simply is that it fills slowly, drop by drop until it reaches the point of over flowing and then you empty not slowly to prevent over flowing but rather by turning it up side down, emptying it fully so the pressure is totally relieved and then it begins to fill again slowly?

On the deep throating-tell me more. Were there issues in breathing? Was it a form of breath play that you had difficulty handling or was it it the gagging and fear of regurgitation or was it something else? Personally speaking, breath play is something that I truly enjoy in all of is its various forms (bagging, mummification, water submersion, asphyxiation) and the fear factor.

Shall I compose and post a fantasy piece about you?

B

While I did not know the term, your analogy is a good one. Desire, needs, build and then I do act on them. Sometimes the actions are well planed and reasonable. At other times they are stupid and risky. Then the guilt comes and I run away.

It wasn't the fear of not being able to breath. It had to do more with the force of it regardless to my reaction to it and the gagging and being on the verge of throwing up. In fact he kept telling me to breath through my nose to help me get through it. He didn't care that I was crying and begging him to stop. He was going to do it and I had no control over it. Don't get me wrong I do enjoy giving head, but this was totally different.

dss

dss responds to a question

Someone posted a comment about what dss disliked most about her meeting. Here is her response.

I tried answering one of the questions on the blog, but apparently it didn't work, so I will do so here. It's easy to answer what I didn't like the most. It brought me to tears and had me gagging and spitting up. While bound in the chair, Jeff used a rubber dildo to force deep throat me. I begged him to stop, but only did after I pleaded with him to do just one more.

Denouement

On the way home from the airport, I was told to stop at the po box. There was a registered letter there for me. It was from Kevin. Opening it I found seven one hundred dollar bills. The day was a waste for me. My nerves kept me from being able to do much.

At this point I was questioning everything I was doing. For some strange reason I felt I was going to be killed. So much so, I left all types of evidence laying around the house before I left.

I was told not to bring a purse or my cell phone. I was to call my family just before I left and tell them I was going to a movie and I would check in with them in the morning. Kevin had said I need not worry about a thing and I had to trust him on this.

A driver picked me up at 7 and took me to the side entrance of the Goodwyn Hotel in Hartford. I was to meet them at the America's bar in the hotel. Walking in the three of them greeted me. I kissed Kevin and Jeff on the check and I was introduced to Paul. Taking my coat from me Kevin gave it to the host, telling her to have it put in his room.

They told me a looked great. The dress was a scoop neck A line dress that buttoned down the front. It had a floral pattern to it that covered up the sheerness of it. If you looked hard enough or the light was just right, you could see through it. I was aware that they were looking at my breasts. The shoes were very nice heeled sandals.

Paul was a very average looking man. I was told he was a NYC cop. As it turned out he was also a rope bondage specialist. Japanese rope bondage, which at the time I didn't know anything about. He didn't say much.

Kevin said we were going to have diner. He asked if I received my letter and I told him I did. Several times during the night I was asked if I was there on my own free will. Often it was in front of others that were not part of the four of us. I clearly understood what that was all about.

Once we got to the table, several times they had me get up and walk in. They said I needed to walk with more confidence. It was clear the wanted others to witness me doing things they ask of me. I was aware my tits bounced was I walked and I am sure that was part of it. Dinner, mine was lite. Two glasses of wine help with my nerves.

Conversation was just like any other dinner I have had with other couples. At the end of dinner, an awkward moment happened. The asked the waiter if he would like to see my tits. Looking at me Kevin asked me if I wanted to show him. Hesitating I said yes, but the waiter who was very good, declined the offer. With that Kevin said it was time to get going.

He had rented a suite. It was nice with a living area and a separate bedroom.

They walked in and sat on the couch and chairs. I was told to remain standing. I am not sure how I was able to. My knees were shaking like mad. Kevin sensed my anxiety and walked up behind me. Standing very close to me he started talking to me so only I could hear him. He basically reassured me and told me everything was going to be alright. He then said it was time to begin and had me close my eyes.

He started by rubbing his hands up and down my body. My sides, my thighs, my breasts, my ass. I felt my body begin to react to his touches. He hands then went to my buttons and he started to undo them. With my eyes still closed I leaned back onto his chest. I was now exposed to them. Kevin pulled the dress off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. He had me step out of it.

He started to cup my breasts and pinch my nipples. It was like it was a direct on line switch to my pussy. While I was sure he knew it, having been through this before, I knew I was not going to be hiding this from him. He had my clasp my hands behind my head. He slide a hand to my panty covered pussy and felt how wet the cotton had become.

No longer talking to me, he announced to Jeff and Paul then he knew I would be this way. By eyes were now open and I could see them smiling and looking at me. Kevin the produced a knife from his pocket and cut the panties from me. He toss them to the others. Walking away from me, I stood there with my hands behind my head completely nude.

Kevin was gone but a second and when he returned he said we were going to play a game of hide and seek. He put a leather hood over my head and secured it in the back. I had never wore a hood before. There was panic and the overwhelming smell of leather. His words shocked me back to what was happening. I will never forget them. "Can you guys smell this whores cunt?" Those were significant words to me. He knew what they meant to me. They were like trigger words I had told him about in our correspondence. He knew the effect it would have to call a "whore" and referred to as a "cunt". They made me feel dirty, objectified.

Kevin back away from me and told me to get on my hands and knees. They then told me I had fifteen minutes to sniff out my smelly cunt soaked panties. They seemed to enjoy my frustrations as I crawled around the room bumping into things in my effort to find the panties. In the end I was told I lost the game.

It was now Paul's turn with me. Standing again, he had me put my arms behind my back parallel to my waist. I felt the ruff rope binding me. While it was comfortable, I knew it was secure. My arms were secured to my sides and my breasts were also incorporated into the tie. I was to remain bound in some form for the rest of the night.

Once he was done with my arms he started on my breasts. Using a smaller rope or cord he wrapped around each breast. His touch was rough and swift. He had to have done this many times before. In the end my tits felt so tight. Almost like they were going to pop. It was a very un natural feeling.

He then put me to the floor and with equal speed my legs were bound. My legs were bent at the knee so my feet touched my ass. The same rough feeling rope was used to secure my ankles to my upper thighs. I was then picked up and put on a chair. Because my arms were behind my back, they forced my hips foreword in the chair. My feet still rested on the seat, but my crotch was right at the edge of the chair as I was leaning back into the chair.

I wasn't expecting the first hit. It was a sharp snap to my bound tit. I screamed at that first smack. I think my voice shocked us all. I felt I needed to be quite so what we were doing wouldn't be discovered. I was told this was my punishment for losing the game. Endorphins were soon running. At the end of this the hood was removed and I was able to see how they had bound me and I got to look at the welts and bruises on my tits.

It was then that I was told we were going to move on and I would now find out about another skill of Paul's. The cord binding my tits was removed. I watched was the took their natural shape and color. Metal clamps were attached to my now normal looking nipples. They didn't have the pinch of the weighted clamps had put on me in the boat, but they were secure. Next a metal plug was slid into my drenched pussy. Leads were attached it and to the clamps on my nipples.

I was told I was going to be interrogated and judging on my sincerity of my answers I would be rewarded or made to tell the truth. The questions were wide ranging. It was clear all of my correspondence had been turned over to Paul. My reluctance to answer questions about my family were met with the most intense shocks. I was made to answer questions about my kids, about my husband, about secret moments between my husband and I. I was forced to tell them honest truths about how he often doesn't satisfy me during sex. How I use fantasy while we make love so I can come. They went into my sexual past. About my lovers, about my adolescent bondage play. They explored my sexual fantasies and the type of masturbation technics I use. I felt ashamed to some of my answers. Telling them about my fantasies of being humiliated to the point of degradation and admitting I enjoyed the bondage and pain were the greatest.

Shocks of pain followed every answer. Sometimes it was just my nipples, other times just my cunt. On answers they didn't like the most resulted in shocks in both areas. Sometime during this something very special happen. It was like everything went into slow motion. The pain was something that I no longer feared. It was like after the shock of pain, I would ride the wave of the sensation as it left my body. Everything changed. My voice answered the questions with a calmness. I could see, but I saw nothing. It no longer mattered that admitted I wanted them to be doing this to me, that I wanted to lick their ass holes or ask them to pee on me, that my husband was a sissy to me. I was someplace I have never been before or since. They ended the interrogation by using a vibrator on my clit. They brought me to several orgasms. Cuming for the was just as embarrassing for me as was answering their questions. It made me feel or admit to myself I was all these things they had me say I was.

The rest of the evening was spent in bondage and being caned, whipped, and clamped. No part of my body was spared including the soles of my feet. They all had sex with me in some form or another. I did give the rim jobs. I was fucked with dildos and cocks. Come was left on my face, tits, and bush.

I was walked to the bath tub and I lay in it. Both Jeff and Paul peed on me. Kevin came in after they were done. He ran a bath for bubble bath for me and bathed me. I broke down and cried. I cried from the shame of what I did. I cried because I liked some of the things they did to me. Kevin was very good at helping me through this period. He dressed me...put my dress and shoes on. He call for the his driver and he walked me down through the lobby and to the car. He got in the back with me and got me home and into bed, before he left me.

dss

More from dss

I received a second email from dss. It is posted below. With her permission, I posted an edited email from dss previously.

The edits were to obfuscate her true identity. At her request, I am reposting unedited versions. Enjoy. More to come.

The Making of a Whore

B,

Back on my own boat I sat and cried. What had just happen, what had I just done? The question that was bothering me the most was what had I just found out about myself. My ass was sore and bruised and for the next several days it would remind me of what I did do. Some how I was able to pull it together and get thought the rest of the day without letting my family know anything.

Of course my husband had invited Kevin and Jeff over for cocktails and snacks like we had done the two days before. It was clear Kevin had told Jeff about what had happen. I had a hard time looking both of them in the eyes. I felt so guilty. Before leaving Kevin found a moment to ask to me to make time to come see him and Jeff the next afternoon. Kevin now had no reservations about grabbing my breasts or patting my ass.

That night I remember giving my husband a blow job. It was done more out of guilt than love. I also convinced him we should leave the next day and we did.

That was how I spent the 4th of July that year. My ass stayed sore for the better part of a week. It was a reminder of what had happen. In many ways I was running emotionally away from that experience. It wasn't until the first week in August when the phone rang when all this came crashing back. Picking up our home phone one morning, I heard Kevin's voice on the other end. My husband had given them our number.

Over the next seven months through phone calls and emails Kevin got me to open up to him about my sexual feelings, fantasies, and desires. He got me to understand that the feeling I had and how I reacted to what happen were very normal and not some deranged persons feelings. He had me open up a PO box and little gifts, including copies of the magazine I had seen, would arrive. To this day my husband does not know any of this. In fact for him, Kevin and Jeff were never heard from again.

I knew they both worked in the city as bankers or hedge fund people. At the time I didn't realize it but the only way I would contact him was by email. Yet he knew my phone number as well as where I lived. Kevin also had a way of getting information out of me and then using it to his advantage. I have relived this so many times in my head over the years. And I realize how good he was at this game we play.

One of the things that I had given up over the months was what I thought at the time was an innocent statement about being a prosecute. It was a statement about separating love and sex and that I thought money made it easier. It was the whole men find it easier to separate sex and love than women do argument.

I also had told him that every year during February break my husband would take the kids to see his parents in Florida. Well now things come around to bite me. One morning I get a call from Kevin. He tells me he has a proposition for me. He will give me $500 to come to New York to see him and he would make all the travel arrangements. Joking around with him I said no and he comes back with how much would it take. And I blurt out 700. Deal he says. Now I am like, are you serious, he was. I protest, I can't come to New York, fine we will come to you. That is how the following events happen on a Saturday night in the week of February.

In the two weeks leading up to the date money arrives in the PO box. I am to buy a dress, shoes, and new panties. The dress was to have a button down front and be a fine quality. The shoes were to be comfortable heels. The panties french cut black. That was all I was to wear, except an outer coat. No jewelry, including my wedding ring.

That morning I dropped my family at the airport and drove home. I was in some zombie zone. Most recently I saw a TV program called "Locked up abroad" where they reenact people getting arrested and thrown in jail in other countries. A large part of the program is spent on the day of the incident and how the people talk about how they didn't really think this was happening. As I watched the show, I was shocked into recalling that Saturday and how I felt all during it.

This is getting way too long. While it feels good to write it all down and over the years I have come to grips with this, it is too late and I don't need to be rising any suspicions from my husband. Plus I am tired and don't even think I will proof read this and just let it be the stream of conscientious that it was.

dss

As a teaser as I think they call it...I also find out there will be a third man there that night.

The Making of a Masochist

I recently received this from dss-more to follow.

B,

It's time to tell you a little about myself. Not necessarily what I am seeking, but how I got to where I am today.

I always knew I liked to get tied up. At a young age, I must have been in 5th grade, my next door neighbor (he was an older boy in maybe 7th or 8th grade) and I use to take turns tying each other up. Him being older always seem to do a better job than I. I loved the feeling of struggling to get out. I loved the feeling of just laying there letting him put the ropes around me. This was our little secret and few know of it. Even my husband doesn't know the roots of my passion. In fact, much of what I will tell you today my husband doesn't know about.

We moved away in the summer of my rising to the 7th grade and my bondage games ended. My interest in it did not. Having no outlet and not really knowing anything about BDSM things moved inside me. By the time I found out about masturbation and fantasy things were in place that would carry me through college and well into adulthood.

It was easy being submissive with my lovers, but not submissive as we both know it. Over the years some of them would tie my hands or spank me, but again nothing like we know how it can be done. [side note: I married a man that likes to be submissive to females]

Fast foreword to a family sailing trip in the summer of '98. We used to own a sailboat and we were in the process of sailing around Long Island when we developed engine problems. We had to put in at Port Jefferson for repairs. It was a holiday and the boatyard's mechanics were off so we stuck there for several days. During that time we were befriended by two guys on another boat and they helped my husband make repairs. Kevin and Jeff, I will never forget them.

Now as then, I go braless as much as I wear a bra. Being on the boat usually meant tank top and shorts. Anyway I caught Kevin looking down my top. He didn't try to hide the fact that I caught him and I quietly moved my eyes from his. Some may call this a "defining moment." There was a subtle attention going on from him. It wasn't flirting on either of our parts, just a knowing. The two of them were moored close to us and as I say my husband befriended them so they were always around.

As it turned out Kevin ended up giving me a ride back to my boat as my family stayed ashore. I wanted to go back to nap and they wanted to spend time in town. So Kevin was heading back to his boat and offered to give me lift. Having not yet seen his boat he asked if a wanted to check it out or have a gin and tonic. I said sure.

During the tour of his boat I noticed a magazine called "something guardian". It was more a "rag" but it turned out to be a well written S&M mag. He picked up on me noticing it. And asked if I was interested in it. I still remember him asking me if I liked to get tied up during sex. It was like a lifetime of fantasy and masturbation filled my head and my pussy. My panties were drenched. He read it in my face. And the question for me by saying "you do!".

It was the first time since those early days that I let a man tie me up, without asking him to do it. The bondage was as simple as it gets. Just my hands were tied to the hand rails in the ceiling of the cabin. My hips were braced against a folded down center line table. I was basically standing straight up, but then slightly bent at the waist (I was reaching across to the other side of the cabin).

Once tied, he put his hand in my pants and found out what I already knew. He brought his fingers to his nose and smelled my scent for the first time. He then went to my tits, cupping and pinching. he pulled up my pulled it over my head, but not my arms so it rested on my shoulders. He produced weighted nipple clamps and attached them. Once on, the movement of the boat made them produce random tugs and pulls. Not knowing at the time what it was called, I was clearly in sub space. My shorts and panties were removed. Since that time I don't think I have ever dripped down my thighs as I was that day. He told me he was going to spank me and asked if that was OK. Starting with his hand, he moved to a leather paddle. Through a mixture of spanks, touches, and words I came for the first time from the direct result of pain.

I never thought it was possible. I felt my body reacting in ways I didn't know it was capable of. After I came twice, he put on a condom and fucked me from behind. I came again from his fucking. After he came, he untied my hands and had my lay down on the bench seats. He removed the clamps from and nipple and I cried out. I went to rub my nipples but he stopped me. Removing his condom, he emptied in on my sore nipples. I was then permitted to rub them.

I was a mess. Not only did I just cheat on my husband, but in a very dirty way.... the story will continue.

dss