The Steamy Phone Life of a Dirty Girl

Finally here I am with a chance to once again blog my secret life. I moved this summer and my existence has been a tedium of packing, searching for new living quarters, moving heavy things, shopping for new stuff and reorganizing my life.  I've been on the phones and kinky as ever, just little time for the details such as updating my blog.

I have a spiffy new office in my new digs and have been decorating.  

My favorite find?

Check this out, a shag leather area rug http://www.homedecorators.com/P/Allover_Leather_Shag_Area_Rug/840/ 

Mine is in black of course, and soft as floggers, and bought on sale no less, and currently has a place of honor on the floor of my office. (I'm reaching over with a foot now and then to caress it as I compose this entry).  And last night it was properly broken in as my boyfriend pushed my face down into it, ass in the area and fucked me hard, my nose full of the heady smell of leather, and I was transported to my first dungeon experience. I grabbed the rug with my hands as he slammed in and out of me again and again. 

The space can only be described as shabby chic modern industrial leather.  Trancey music at a volume not nearly intense enough to disguise the moans of an orgasming women and the pleading cries of a man being energetically spanked with a wooden paddle.

I was mesmerized. I was changed forever. Before that evening ended, I found myself dancing on the end of a chain, leather cuffs around my wrists, my naked body viewed by a crowd that was part leering, part indifferent.  The man that put me there trailed a soft leather flogger slowly from the side of my neck over my body.  He grasped my hair, stretching my head back with erotic deliberation and bent to whisper in my ear.

"I'm going to use this leather flogger to make you cum" I was not only incredulous, but nervous. What was I thinking? Allowing this man with a whip to tie me up and torment me?  His demeaner seemed to harden after I was helpless and his voice seemed threatening, although his words were not particularly so.

Then he began raining light blows down on my back and I was delighted to feel the sensous kiss of the strands on my skin, like forty lovers.

He moved between my back and ass, slowly increasing the tempo and also gradually the intensity until they were thrilling, transcendent stings.  He paused to grope my slit, finding it slick and I moaned.  The blows began anew, very lightly this time, but insistent and steady on my pussy.  

"You're a needy slut, you can't hide the fact that you love being naked and used here. Helpless aren't you?"  He laughed and continued the tempo as my clit started to throb in a sensitive surge of both subtle pain and erotic response.   It's turning me on."  He paused to rub his trouser clad prick in the crack of my ass, proving his point indeed. 

He resumed the firm gentle strokes with the flogger . Occasionally a strand would hit full force on my clit and I would jump and cry out and climb closer to climax.   And finally when I did cum, it was hard and transforming. My knees trembled and my whole body spasmed and I became limp, hanging from the restraints, moaning in orgasm. He clutched me to his body as mine arched, then he lowered me to the dungeon floor, held me until I could speak again, then held me some more stroking my hair.  At that moment, I would have done anything, fucked him, blown him, whatever he wanted.  Instead, he brought me to the friends I came with and bade me farewell and told me I had done very well. He gave me the flogger, I have it to this day and I came to appreciate its value when I priced similar ones.  

It was a full year before I got to repay him with my body as he so deserved for helping me enter this wildly erotic world.

That rug makes me think of that evening.  That delicious leather smell keeps me wet.

For you the reader, my journal is the secret life. You won't read about my boring mundane life, the one we all have, the grocery shopping and work politics.  Be assured I have such a vanilla aspect to my life, family and friends and co-workers who would never suspect that I lead a double life, that I surround myself with leather and latex and plaited whips braided from kangaroo leather. 

When I disappear from work at lunchtime, my coworkers would be shocked to know that I am lunching with a submissive that I have wearing a buttplug as he fixes my plate at the buffett table.   They would never guess that I am sitting in my car in the parking garage describing to one of my phone submissives how I will tie him down and force him to suck my strap-on, while I am listening to him deepthroat a dildo until he is gagging, at my instructions of course.

My coworkers and family don't know that the necklace that I always wear around my neck is a vanilla disguised "collar" given to me by my Master.  They just think it is a gift of affection from him, and not the symbol of ownership that it is.

When I tell my coworkers about the cool stuff my best friend and I found at Macy's, I leave out the part about her plowing me with her red strapon dildo in the dressing room.

My life is blended with the erotic and the mundane...

When I grocery shop, I chat with my neighbor as I place my groceries in the trunk of my car, next to a leather satchel that contains floggers, leather cuffs and electro-torture toys.

There is a certain thrill to the casual everyday reminders I have around me all the time. On my keychain that I carry everywhere is a key to a chastity belt, a key to a lock that I use to lock my slave's collar, and a key to a friend's dungeon that I often use.  My cell phone is filled with telephone numbers of other kinky people.  My slaves. My Master. Other Femdoms I know. Sexual Freedom activists. A leather toy maker.   Those people have their own little secret lifes, with their own keys and cell phone numbers that are visible for the whole world.

My latest obsession with my phone guys has been directed masturbation...

I love imagining in my head a hapless victim, a guy all restrained. Sitting in a simple wooden chair, hands tied firmly with rope behind his back.  Out. Of. Reach....

 And me, doing slow erotic teasing, just barely touching and teasing, my body sitting on his...my pussy just brushing the cock...my hands just running over his legs..his nipples...

And this is my inspiration for my guy...I direct him to touch himself as I would imagine it would feel to him.  He touches his cock and balls in ways that are foreign to him. Ways he never thought of touching himself. 

"Take your finger, and put it in your mouth and wet it....then place it at the base of your cock near your balls...then sllllllowllly run it up to the head"  My voice deep and sultry. "Imagine that's my tongue..."  Usually a moan comes from the other end of the line at this...

"Now take the tip of your finger and make circular motions around the tip of your cock,,,,come as close as you can but don't touch it!Now let it brush every so very lightly, like you're trying to get as close as you can without touching.  Let your body arch up to your hand, but pull your hand back...tease yourself.   Your hand is MY agent"

It doesn't take long before the guy is rock hard and leaking cum all over the place.  I reward him following directions by letting him jerk of as he wishes for twenty or thirty seconds.  "But NO cumming..."

Then we return to the slow relentless teasing again. Agonizing until he is begging for release.  That desperate begging tone that makes my cunt drip.