A Peek Back 9-8

200 posts.

Hard to believe that, as of last night, we reached this milestone so quickly. Still hasn’t sunk in. It does not seem like just over four months ago that I came to Leigh with a crazy idea and a single blog post introducing myself. If memory serves me I believe our first day we had 8 views. We went over 30,000 total earlier this week.

So in honor of this momentous occasion I am sleeping in Saturday. The words you read right now are, with the assistance of a celebratory 24oz Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, being keystroked Friday evening.

Its been an amazing ride so far. And its only going to get better. Thank you all.

If you’re a first time Peeker™, welcome!  You are invited to peek through the keyhole. We strongly encourage you to view all of the established Pages, which can be viewed by selecting any of the tabs at the top of this page.

The Archives are an inclusive, running version of every post of note on this blog. If you have not read any or all of the stories, random musings, poetry, etc linked from The Archives by all means please grab a seat, perhaps a drink (the 24oz Pale Ale may need to wait until later in the day) sit back and enjoy.

So saluté!  It’s time to Peek Back!

Interview With A Submission Vampire Vol.1 No.15 – Longtime Peeker™ Ms. D wanted to know if moments like Breaking Leigh were life altering.

A Coffee, Cricket And A Dom Walk Into A Monday – A very laid back, touching Labor Day induced Monday musing.

The Butterfly Chains Act IV – In short, I fuck Leigh fast and hard. One of the most well received Acts of any story I’ve written. Peekers™ went gonzo over this one.

I Had No Idea – My stunned reaction to the above, plus an announcement about a new blog feature. It involves me coming.

The Looking Glass Act II – A very special memory begins, complete with soundtrack. This one is personal on many levels.

Butterfly Chains Are Making Noise – The aforementioned Act IV that everyone freaked out over got republished!

Seek And Go Hyde Act VI – The final Act in this story. Hyde takes over. It gets intense, a bit wild…and very messy.

WII Is WII – Has nothing to do with video games and everything to do with defining WIITWD. Curious? Read on.

Chain Of Rules Act VII – After two Acts of nipple abuse, it’s time to add spanking to Leigh’s chained misfortune…or is that fortune?

Pretty – A poem because sometimes you just want to fuck the pretty girl you wake up to.

For My Leigh – For the 200th post on The Dom Next Door™ I wanted to do something special. I did.

Just tiptoe on the way out…..ZZZZZZZZZZ.

– Scot

Seek And Go Hyde Act VI

(To read Seek And Go Hyde Act I, Act II, Act III, Act IV or Act V)

I admit I was not thinking straight. Or sanely.

By the time Leigh’s body had been racked with a second sadomasochistic orgasm that left us both drenched in her vaginal fluids I was gone. Just not there. Hyde had taken over.

Content with how destroyed Leigh was physically and emotionally, he craved the one thing she had left.

Her pride.

And he was determined to not just have it but fucking devour it.

It feels odd to write in this tense in that it was me. It is me every time Hyde comes out to play. But it isn’t really me. Or that’s something I just say as a means to rationalize the sadistic evil that is my alter ego.

(for more about that sadistic evil comment, you may want to read  Torn)

I’m honesty not sure if I should write the remainder of this in first or third person. Tell you what. I’ll toggle between the two. Myself and Hyde. If its confusing, join the party.

Leigh had given me everything I asked of her, yet that wasn’t enough. He wanted more, plus it was now my turn to be the one screaming through an orgasm. Tired, soaked, pissed off for some fucking reason, still the proud owner of a rock hard erection. Enough of this punish her shit. It was time to abuse my cock with drenched cunt.

She was a mess. No other way to put it. Her timeless beauty was awash in sweat, her own ejaculate and the aura that oozes from a woman’s pores after she has multiplied. She looked feverish, flustered and uncertain. Matted auburn locks painted her face like a Japanese ink print.

Her face? Devastated. Not from external blows but from within. Disheveled is being kind. When Leigh’s baby blues become china doll blacks…

“Hold them open,” he growled. Hyde didn’t give a fuck about any of that. And, at that moment, neither did I. As her Sir I learned very early that Rule #1 of being the best Dominant I can be for her was this:

I must be selfish.

It sounds incredibly uncaring, cold and shallow. It’s actual the opposite. By focusing hard on my own needs I address her desire to be completely dominated. I can’t give her that while being concerned about her. But by the same token I am completely focused on her, reading her, listening.

Its fucking hard to Dominate someone! Any submissives reading this, try it sometime. You’ll see.

“No, here” I said. My hands gripped Leigh’s Achilles tendons firm. Now she understood where and why.

With a staccato whimper she replaced my hands with hers. I had spread her legs as far as anatomy allowed. No bent knees or drawn in thighs. Straight out, wide open. Nothing had changed in that regard, except Leigh was the one holding them that way.

Hyde roared at the thought she was being made to abuse her own flesh a final time. The sweetest part? Her hands were no where near the soft parts that were going to suffer.

Drawing my face nearer to hers I grinned, then proceeded to try to choke her with my cock via her cunt.

Vicious. Brutal. Each stroke bottoming out. They would have regardless with how wet she was, but holding herself that wide open? Fuck.

My hips slammed into hers, the spray from her cunt going everywhere. At this angle both our faces were doused. Slapping sounds of soaked flesh rammed into the same filled the bedroom. Leigh frantically tried to hold on as her labia were bitch slapped over and over. It would have been painful by itself, but as engorged as she was made it even worse. Her voice was…well, I’ll just say she was speaking in tongues, which I suspect is Hyde’s native language.

Again and again I fucked her as hard as I could. My toes curled, hips tightened, that familiar cramp all too welcome. I started to build. With my impending orgasm in its infancy I started to growl. Mouth closed, guttural, animatistic. If you have even heard a cornered predatory animal, that’s what it sounded like, each one a little louder from deeper inside.

Now it was I who grew frantic. Blood raced from every corner of my being to my groin. I grew light headed being asphyxiated by my central nervous system, my ass cheeks locked in an attempt to force myself inside out.

Faster. Harder. More yelling than growling, yet the same. The way Leigh stared at my face hinted at the contortions that seized it. She was completely caught up in my delirium. I felt a knot start deep inside me. Tighter. Push. Harder. So. Close. So. Fucking. Close.

When the inevitable became reality I seethed through clenched teeth “DON’T MOVE YOUR HANDS!!” then withdrew from Leigh, reared back onto my knees, grabbed my cock with my right hand and…

…exploded.

I came with the same force I just fucked her stupid with. Semen roared through my cock. Upon its release I went to scream…and couldn’t. No air. None. Splurt after splash of hot cum went fucking everywhere. It felt like I was being strangled. The colors were pretty in there as my eyes rolled back. Within seconds I raced towards unconsciousness.

I saw Leigh turn her head to her left. That’s about all I recall as far as my surroundings.

Stars. Fireflies. The smell of semen filled my nostrils, Leigh’s fluids spewed all over my thighs and waist without stop.

Then the air came back. I screamed. Again. Roared. Again.

Remember how your grade school music teacher always wanted you to sing from your diaphragm? I came from mine. With the oxygen came blood back to my brain. That’s when things got fuzzy, but I was too busy growling and snarling to appreciate the head rush.

My orgasm lasted well over a minute. I about died.

Collapsing onto my haunches I looked at Leigh. Her body was awash in cum, yet she wouldn’t move. Her hands still clung fiercely to her ankles. But it was her head cocked to the side with eyes closed  that caught my attention.

Apparently that first massive load didn’t just hit her in the breast but bounced off it and splattered all over the side of her face. Semen dripped off her cheek like a candle gone mad.

I smiled. Or was it he smiled? We smiled? I’m still not sure.

– Scot & Hyde

The Butterfly Chains Act IV

(To read The Butterfly Chains Act I, Act II or Act III)

There are times when I just know that, regardless of how long I may want to fuck Leigh, it’s going to be fast, hot, sweet and intense.

Not a quickie, mind you. That’s different. Quickies are spur of the moment volcanic tremors of lust that appear without warning, leaving in their wake unplanned sweat, gasping and various bodily fluids. No, this was just going to be over long before I wanted it to be. And there was not a damn thing I could do about. No amount of recalling names of baseball players or envisioning Ernest Borgnine in briefs was derailing this train.

The sounds of passion coming from Leigh were guttural, raw, raspy. And by that I meant her mouth. I could write a kinky thesaurus on the ones her cunt was making. Slick, oozing, full of secretive juices and suction. It was bad enough that the physical sensations had me on the clock, but when combined with symphonic sex like that? I was a dead man fucking.

So I made the few minutes I knew I had count. If I was going down fast, so was she.

Buttressing my arms against her sides, I rose up on my toes and put myself in a pure plank. The only part of my anatomy touching Leigh, aside from traces of forearm, was my cock. That would be all that would touch her for the duration of the fucking portion of the evening’s activity.

Leigh’s eyes widened in attention. She knew what this posture meant, as well as how it was going to feel in the position she was chained into.

“Oh fuck…” she said as she stared at my cock head positioned just inside her folds.

And with that I buried it balls deep inside her. Hard. Fast. Repeatedly.

The squishing sounds echoed off the candlelit walls, the shadows we made danced wildly to the aforementioned symphony. Only now I had added a percussion section.

I love sex sounds. Adore them. They’re arousing beyond words, exciting to every sensorial capability. They are to an impending orgasm what a gallon of gasoline is to a bonfire. Leigh’s squeals played off the way her fingernails scratched the bed sheets. Her sobs of helplessness mixed with the frantic tunnggg of the chains as her legs pulled against them (to no avail). Her cunt’s juices squirted and flowed with each stroke. Our breathing became more ragged with each thrust as it built in tempo. The crescendo of it all bombarded my ears with relentless teasing.

I tried to fight it as long as I could. Leigh could tell I was there, but not the in the way you may obviously think. My cock swelled in every aspect. Her eyes grew even wider. As my orgasm neared the rate of my fucking increased to a blur, which trapped her own liquid excitement deep inside her.

My eyes grew tight, nostrils flared, arms rigid as steel. Rising off my hands I made each a fist and filled them full of linen. My toes dug deep into the same as my hip and core muscles started to sense the impending explosion building inside me.

Tight. That is how it feels when it starts. There is a tightness that resonates from my groin to my testicles as if my muscles are, one by one, surrendering to orgasm. It draws closer, firmer, squeezing tighter and harder with each stroke in and out of Leigh. At this point it could go either into auto pilot or an aborted landing. One stroke more the right way and its inevitable, but say in the heat (and lubrication) of the moment I slip out. That alone will almost invariably require a “do over.” Go back to Start, do not pass Go, do not collect $200. Or cover your chain bound wife in semen.

So fuck yeah, I focused. Hard. And all of what I just described? Totally masturbated with perfection every one of my senses.

Step away from the bonfire. Cue the gasoline. In three. Two. One. More. Stroke.

The first explosion of semen was as my cock withdrew from the hot silk of Leigh’s cunt and anointed its mound with what can best be described as globs. Not the sexiest of terms but certainly the most accurate. It fucking rained cum all over her pubic arch, shot after pulse. I was too busy examining the interior of my skull with my eyes roll backed to see all of this, but I could feel it as well as Leigh reacting to each spurt.

I growled, roared, whatever animatistic sound you can envision I made it. If its possible to seethingly hiss I did that too. A lot. As much sound came out of my mouth as semen spewed out of my cock, both all over Leigh’s convulsing form. She was not immune from all of this. Oh no. For my cock had been a kinky cork keeping all of her own secretions bottled up. Upon that cork’s sudden removal, combined with the sensation of my frenum fucking her clit as I came, she gushed like a fountain. Again and again her wetness sprayed my hips, the bed, innocent bystanders, you name it.

This lasted for well over a minute. I typically rate the intensity of my orgasms by a complicated formula involving duration of ecstasy multiplied by how close I came to passing out, carry the two, then divide by the diameter of the wet spot. And this one was downright Noble Prize worthy. Holy shit…

With my cockhead still oozing drops of semen upon her mound I gazed down at the aftermath. Or more accurately an industrial accident that required a HAZMAT team to properly clean it up. I’m not one for taking pictures, but I admit it may have been a Kodak moment, where something just looked so fucking insane in its sexiness that a quick JPEG or twenty would have been nice.

My arms ached, my fists were white and my hips were cramping. Without even thinking I pushed back from Leigh, bent my knees and kneeled at her waist. The sensation of blood filling my relaxed arms was nice.

With my first deep inhale I smelled it. Or more accurately us. For not an inch from my face was all the chaos. The carnage of the scene of the crime of passion in all its gobular, dripping glory.

And my mouth mere inches from where I had wanted it all along.

Our Secret

Rather than vainly fumble at

the obviousness of it all

seemed so dreamlike to be

in the shadows watching

your arousal feeding my

thirst for the moment when

the words flow from your

mouth like a waterfall pouring

your secret

no longer kept

my secret

shared with the floor and

the night flowed down

your legs rigid eyes wide mouth

hungry for more and

the puddle a testament to

how fucking beautiful you

really are you know

that I love you

pour into my eyes through

the looking glass the

silent witness to

our secret

– Scot (recalling what it was like to embrace Leigh from behind while she masturbated to our reflection in a candlelit mirror)

The Words Of Power

I know, it should be “The Power Of Words.”

And they are powerful. Physical wounds will mend, but the ones caused by verbal cutting? They linger, cripple, haunt. The scar that never quite heals.

I thought of this last night as I wrote the climatic ending (pun intended) to Act V of Seek And Go Hyde:

“You may come.”

And with that Leigh exploded in a primal grunt all over me, her hands practically tearing her nipples loose in the process. They were almost cartoonish in how far their delicate skin stretched from being pulled so violently. But nowhere near as violent as the drenching orgasm that consumed us both.

With a massive gush Leigh screamed “I’M A PAIN SLUT I’M A PAIN SLUT FUCK I’M A PAIN SLUT.” She was practically hysterical with lust, the waves of each multiple crashing into her repeatedly, their damage measured in how badly her swollen cunt leapt out to suck in my cock.

The spray from her ejaculate hit me in the face. I licked my lips at the shock.

Told you it was sweet.

All the while she kept repeating her kinky mantra over and over, each time more guttural, deeper from within her, until out of nowhere she literally screamed at the top of her lungs:

“I. LOVE. WHEN. YOU. FUCKING. BEAT. ME!!!!”

And with that collapsed into a seething, panting heap on the bed.

Yes, she actually screamed that. And I can assure you that was Leigh as about as raw as I have ever seen her. The physical duress she was enduring via being forced to countless squirting multiple orgasms was brutal. But it was my insistence that she verbalize what she hates to admit that, I feel, pushed her to a point where she screamed what she did with the conviction of an executioner.

This is part of the beauty of D/s, especially when heated to a melting point in the forge of BDSM. I experience it as well. For everything Leigh and I share behind that closed bedroom door, for all the perversions, sadistic pleasures, sweet pain, there is one thing that I crave more than her vaginal fluids soaking through multiple layers of bedding all the way to the mattress.

Her manners.

I am addicted to hearing her beg permission to orgasm. And that pales in comparison to when she thanks me after each one.

Now, don’t get me wrong. The physical is amazing. Ironically in a post about the power for words I am at a loss for the best ones to attempt to describe how fucking intense all of this is. Which I guess speaks to the strength of our D/s dynamic. It’s more powerful than words, which is really saying something that can’t be said with words!

What?

I need more coffee. Un memento, por favor.

And my favorite part of when we share each other’s dark side? The aftercare. When she is so far gone inside herself that it’s my turn to drown her in sweet nothings. And often all she can say is a meek “Thank you Sir” through a doll’s eyes before she goes away to the land of floaty floaty.

Right there. Looking in those empty pools of blue, when she says three words to me. That’s when I start to soar, my wings full on the wind of her beautiful submission. And I fucking fly into Topspace.

But that night, when she threw that one raw statement at me like a dagger, that was different.

Sitting here, right now, coffee within reach, it just occurred to me that when Leigh screamed “I. LOVE. WHEN. YOU. FUCKING. BEAT. ME!!!!” that Hyde had an orgasm.

(For you virginal Peekers™ a little history about Hyde)

Of course he can’t actually come. I do that. But in his own sadistic, perverted manner, forcing Leigh to that admission at the height of a brutal squirting orgasm was his own release. Whatever the chemical biology of satisfaction and its counterparts are, imagine that multiplied 100x. Now detonate that inside your soul like a kinky roadside bomb.

I came without coming. And it stopped me fucking cold. After that it was my turn. You’ll read about that later this week. But the fucker wouldn’t let me come until he did. All over both of us. Inside my head, soul and spirit, and out of Leigh’s mouth. The saturated mess around us both was just icing on his cake.

And, sadly, there are also the way in which certain words will forever be raw, open wounds to some. A few Peekers™ know this too well, including a special one that is near and dear to a number of us who blog in the darkest corner of the WordPress basement. For them, Leigh’s statement yelled at the height of consensual arousal conjures up bad memories, feelings and emotions. Very bad. Not consensual. Or asked for.

I pondered sharing what Leigh said, but ultimately decided to allow you all to react as you will. I did feel strongly about adding the * disclaimer at the end.

BDSM has been long thought of in a similar manner. And given the phenomenon of that certain neutral hued book series interest in WIITWD is likely at an all-time high. It’s important that those who have been here all the while be careful with how we present what can easily be misunderstood as sexual assault, or worse. They need to know that the key is communication.

Or, in other words, words. Just like the written ones above.

– Scot

Seek And Go Hyde Act V

(To read Seek And Go Hyde Act I, Act II, Act III or Act IV)

Abusing Leigh’s nipples is like dialing 1-800-WET-CUNT. Operators are standing by.

(note – I just made that up. Please don’t call that expecting us to answer)

She squealed with erotic displeasure at my request, knowing full well that not just tweaking and pulling her nipples would make her already sopping wet folds literally brim with her own secretions, but the fact that she was forced to do so to herself made the faucet run even faster.

Sopping, slapping sounds filled the bedroom with obscene clarity. The aroma of a woman who has not so much enjoyed but more like suffered through a series of forced orgasms this way is unmistakable. It’s not the musky scent of growing arousal but rather a sweet smell, almost a perfume, that even a blind and deaf man would recognize in a heartbeat. Perhaps its the way it mixed with the pheromones of her early wetness, or maybe how my own sweat became an unintentional recipient of the spray ejaculating from her depths, two becoming one chemically as well as physically.

“Pinch them hard, bitch” I growled while plowing her deeply with my still extremely engorged erection. I swear it can smell the same things I do. For when she squirts I swell. When I swell she squirts more, which makes me swell even…

… well, you get the idea.

And with such ease! It was no effort to reach her cervix with each stroke. I love how that small bump French kisses the head of my cock when she becomes a human fire hydrant. Plus it makes it a lot easier on me physically. No need to work hard when I’m that hard and she is that wet. Allows me to fuck her a lot longer. Much longer.

And that bastard Hyde knew this. No wonder I was growling deep, low, primal. I even hissed.

She just lay there, her legs wishbone wide in my iron grip, her face grimaced with beautiful agony and perverted lust at how her own fingers ravaged the tender points so hard and high atop each breast. Pinching them hard, then rolling each back and forth, tugging violently and releasing them to snap back.

And all the while our eyes stayed as locked as our groins. Mine in hers, hers in mine. But truth be told it really wasn’t me leering at her with perverted lust, an evil smile coldly coursing across my face like fissures in January ice. No, it was Hyde. He was in charge. The smell of sweet female ejaculate didn’t as much bring him out to play with my doll but try to devour her with my eyes, thoughts, words and cock. A bloodlust for a different bodily fluid seethed in my veins like black venom.

I wanted her to come like she was going to fucking die from it.

I know that sounds harsh, brutal, cold and uncaring. You all know how much I adore Leigh. I’d take a bullet in a New York second for her. But at that moment all that mattered was to feel her squirt, watch her spasm, hear her lamentations as well as admit that she was, indeed, a fucking pain slut.

“That’s it, cunt,” I practically spit through clenched teeth in the guise of a snarled directive, “rip those fucking lil’ points right off your tits.”

The amount of fluid that poured out of her wide open cunt resembled a stream. While it’s not the sexiest sound to try to verbalize shlap is pretty accurate, accentuated by a hint of suction when our soaked hips met. It was vulgar and nasty and oh so much fucking fun! Damn she felt good!

The pace at which Leigh’s fingers ripped at her nipples matched the same of my cock inside her. Faster and faster, yet still as deep, as effortless as could ever be imagined. Absolutely no resistance to my raging efforts to gut her with my cock.

“You’re getting close, aren’t you bitch?” I mocked at her, my eyes ablaze with the impending wet inferno that, based on how thick her labia had swollen, was mere moments away. “Don’t you dare fucking come without saying what you are!”

The utterance of that started the inevitable. I could feel it. See it. Fuck, I could taste it.

Hyde was practically crawling out of my skin. It’s an odd sensation to feel one’s head grow warm, full, hot with internal fever so suddenly. My eyes felt as if they would ignite.

A subtle shift of my hips lower, a sudden retching of her legs wider and her G spot was mine. My pace quickened to almost that of a boxer working a speed bag, the shlap shlap shlap shlap echoed like wet thunder.

“May I please come, Sir?” Leigh rasped, her face contorted crimson with the impending release she not so much needed as was being forced from her.

Hyde grinned.

“Not yet,” he said.

Her face was almost purple, her eyes just the blacks.

“Wait,” he said while fucking her relentlessly, “wait……………….wait………………..”

“You may come.”

And with that Leigh exploded in a primal grunt all over me, her hands practically tearing her nipples loose in the process. They were almost cartoonish in how far their delicate skin stretched from being pulled so violently. But nowhere near as violent as the drenching orgasm that consumed us both.

With a massive gush Leigh screamed “I’M A PAIN SLUT I’M A PAIN SLUT FUCK I’M A PAIN SLUT.” She was practically hysterical with lust, the waves of each multiple crashing into her repeatedly, their damage measured in how badly her swollen cunt leapt out to suck in my cock.

The spray from her ejaculate hit me in the face. I licked my lips at the shock.

Told you it was sweet.

All the while she kept repeating her kinky mantra over and over, each time more guttural, deeper from within her, until out of nowhere she literally screamed at the top of her lungs:

“I. LOVE. WHEN. YOU. FUCKING. BEAT. ME!!!!” *

And with that collapsed into a seething, panting heap on the bed.

She had never said anything like that before. Nor has she since. The room grew death silent, save for our labored breathing and hearts pounding. We stayed locked, cock in cunt, covered in her fluids for a minute or so, recouping ourselves from that primal exchange.

That’s enough, I thought.

Now it was my turn to come.

* note – I know the use of that term/phrase is a sensitive one for some Peekers™. Please know it was said at the zenith of passion, that everything was consensual, and that I have never, EVER lifted my hand to Leigh in anger.

Seek And Go Hyde Act VI

Seek And Go Hyde Act IV

(To read Seek And Go Hyde Act I, Act II or Act III)

You will have to forgive me if, for the duration of this story, my musings appear helter skelter.

I can feel Him peeking out through my eyes, wanting His voice to be heard since He was the one who was primarily there.

Hyde.

He was the one who was reveling in how deep my extremely engorged cock was effortlessly sliding in and out of Leigh’s splayed open cunt like a hot knife through mid August butter. So. Fucking. Slow. Leigh hates this, despises how I tease the shit out of her this way. She is all for the jack hammer, give it to me hard, fast and now so I can come fuck.

No.

And when wielding an erection that was so painfully thick it actually ached I damn well savored the opportunity to turn her into an incoherent cum slut, one who would cry and sob when she was not coating both of us with enough vaginal fluids to make our scene sound like a water park during Kid’s Get In Free Day. That drives her crazy. She loathes my turning her cunt into our personal shower head for two, how she cannot, and I mean cannot, control her squirting.

It all started with the outstroke. How my cock licked the part of her G spot closest to her pubic bone arch, that sweet speed bump on the near underside of her mound. I’m not kidding its a speed bump in that, with each tortuously long withdraw using the entire length of my oiled erection I felt her folds start to sweat, pulse, engorged to the point of fucking the velvet vise of bawdy humor. I loved how she started to ooze, flow, grow thick with lust and blood.

For I knew that her ability to retain conscious control of her orgasms was rapidly deteriorating. So yes, a speed bump. At a snail’s pace. The irony, as well as the overall physical and emotional sensations, was eye rolling.

My growls continued, escalating with each frantic cry. Her fingers clawed the raw flesh of her own ass, its bruised reality drawn closer to the surface via skin made taut by legs being held firmly straight, wide and open.

“EnnhhhhhHH” echoed again and again from her contorted face, her teeth clenched in a masochistic masterpiece of forced abuse, yet also arousal. Glancing down I could see her fingers digging deep into her well spanked ass of a fortnight removed. The way she timed each clawing gesture with my candle wax slow cock strokes was lovely.

The sight of my glistening cock splaying open her labia, flush with primarily her own secretions, was surreal. I’m not sure if there are colors worthy to describe how the hues of purple and pink played with each other. Perhaps Crayola can come up with a BDSM themed set?

I opened my hands slowly, keeping contact with her Achilles’ heel tendons. Then, with the care a golfer would apply their grip to a 18th green driver I reapplied my grip with firm fervor and conviction. Leigh whimpered at the sensation of another set of fingers digging into her flesh aside from her own. She knew what was coming. And she couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Spreading her legs a few inches wider elicited a gasp of a scream, if such a thing exists. I adjusted my hips to better meet the new and wider access I had to her cunt, then started to fuck her with an increased pace.

“Uhhhhhhhhh…..” she throatily gasped as stroke after stroke found its mark with renewed vigor. The first splat of her juices against my hips told me everything I assumed was correct. She was going to release herself involuntarily all over me, and very soon at that. All that it would take was to continue my rapidly escalating strokes as well as talk to her own inner cock slut.

“Ohhhh, you stroke fucking love stroke this, don’t you stroke slut? You stroke love when stroke I make you stroke squirt all over stroke and there is stroke not a fucking stroke thing you stroke can do about stroke it, is there?” stroke

Leigh’s face contorted. Her mouth opened as if to say something to me, yet nothing but raw, frustrated lust came out. She started to grow red in the cheeks, eyes wide, her ridiculously swollen cunt folds squeezed my cock so tight my pulse could have been taken if she had been so inclined.  The muscles of her torso rose off the bed and contracted, arching the pointed nipples high atop her swaying breasts. And her hands! Fuck! They were practically shredding her ass from involuntary reaction to the pending wet eruption building inside her.

“Oooooh may I please come, Sir?!?!” she wailed, fighting off the release that was likely a simple reply away from soaking both of us.

“No….”

Her eyes grew wide, frantically looking for safe harbor, for mercy. She was literally a second from opening the flood gates, gates being fucked balls deep with vicious coldness.

Leigh was gagging through short, held breaths in a vain attempt to keep her sanity.

“Oh Please Sir, PLEASE may I come?!?!?” she pleaded.

“You may come,” I coldly replied in the midst of fucking her senseless, “but only if you say “I’m a pain slut” over and over when you do.”

Her face froze. Our eyes locked. I could tell this was a boiling over point. She hates to admit she loves to be made to articulate her own inner whore.

A few more cervix deep strokes and her body convulsed. I swear it felt like her cunt escaped and tried to eat my cock from the amount of blood that filled her velvet walls. Her face racked in frozen agony, just fucking gorgeous. A silent scream that must be what angels sound like when they orgasm filled the room, then a groan that would have woken the dead. Squirt after squirt anointed us both, our hips soaked in a glistening kiss.

Then she rasped out “I’m a pain slut, I’m a pain slut” over and over.

“LOUDER!!!” I roared as my cock surged beyond what I thought I was capable of owning.

“I’M A PAIN SLUT!! I’M A PAIN SLUT! FUCK I’M A PAIN SLUT!! OOOOHHH I’M A FUCKING PAIN SLUT!!” again and again, the multiple orgasms ripping through her body and soul, the sopping slap slap slap of our hips each spraying us both. All the while her hands practically drew blood from her sore ass as mine did to her ankles spread wide.

After almost two minutes of this she pitifully gasped and collapsed onto herself, her muscles limp from the ordeal. We both stayed locked cock to cunt, gasping for precious air.

A low growl escaped through my clenched teeth. Again and again that sound rolled across us. She thought she was done and looked at me as such.

Cold as ice I made a single slow, full stoke of her folds as I said “Now its your nipple’s turn.”

Hyde roared as Leigh, whimpering and whining, moved her fingers to their erect points while my molasses slow fuck strokes started anew.

Seek And Go Hyde Act V

The Butterfly Chains

When they first appear free of their cocoon butterflies are very wet, extremely vulnerable and breathtakingly beautiful.

I am a butterfly collector of sorts. But not just any butterflies. Only very special, erotically beautiful ones pique my interest. It’s a very private collection, known only to two people and, with the writing of this tale, now all of you.

Sadly you will never see any of the exquisite creature I collect. No, that’s not a typo. My collection consists of a singular butterfly, a very rare and exotic one. It only comes out at night, which would make her more a moth I suppose. There is definitely an attraction to the flicker of the candles that light up the bedroom where she flies.

Oh, what’s that? Yes, she. Her. I collect a most amazing female butterfly, one whose moth like tendencies to fly too close to the flames often gets her wings singed.

Leigh.

I should clarify that, while butterfly beautiful, Leigh is not always thought of or viewed as such. Its only when the wings that are her legs are spread almost as wide as the mattress we sleep on with the assistance of some stainless steel chain and a pair of ankle cuffs that I see wings.

Then she is my butterfly, my lunar moth, pinned to the mattress for my enjoyment. And this is the story of how she came to be, like that newborn butterfly, very wet, extremely vulnerable and breathtakingly beautiful.

“Tonight? she asked me quizzically, rolling over to better see what I was doing.

“Yes….tonight. I’ve been thinking about my butterfly collection all day” was my reply as I rifled through The Pillowcase™ for the cuffs.

The Pillowcase™ is just that. An otherwise ordinary, large taupe pillowcase from a bed linen set long since discarded as a result of the corners ripping. No comment on what might have caused that to happen. But now this simple covering is where the Crown Jewels of our toy collection live. It’s where I keep the fleece lined bondage cuffs and matching three-ring collar, a leather ball gag, some nipple clamps, eight or so steel fasteners…

…and The Chains™. Four 1′ foot lengths, two 2′ lengths and a singular 3′ section, all of chromed stainless steel.

Leigh looked at me as I purloined the four matching cuffs from its depths. Most times she likes to put them on, but tonight I wanted to be the one to do that. I consider it an honor to be able to do so, plus it’s just plain fun.

In that she was seated facing me I started with her ankles.

“These,” as I tugged on her pajama bottoms,”will need to come off, please.”

I could tell that, while open to being tied up, she was somewhat resigned due to my not telling her earlier of my plans to add to my collection that evening. But none the less the lacy, knee-length white pajama pants slid over her hips, down her thighs and off her legs.

“You can keep the top on. I like it. It makes you look Victorian” was the answer I gave to her unasked question. And it did. A square neckline, thick shoulder straps, extremely shear in its linen transparency, all adorned with cut work and lace edging. Leigh has that timeless beauty, a look about her that makes women envious. Her features would be considered stunning in any of the last dozen decades. So a Victorianesque bloomer night set worked perfectly with her pinned auburn hair, alabaster skin and warm eyes of the softest blue as far as setting a mood, although the hairless nirvana between her legs was anything but Victorian.

All I was going to do was mix in some era appropriate bondage until she was wet, then eat. Literally.

The Cuffs™ went on her ankles smoothly for the most part. I always try to be gentle when getting that fourth eye aligned with the clasp and buckle. Three is too loose, four is pretty snug but wearable. Same with the wrists. In that she was going to be lying supine she requested to not wear the collar due to the way it squeezes her throat in this position. She is not a fan of continuous breath play to the point where it’s a mild hard limit.

“Lie down in the middle of the bed, with your head as near to the headboard as you can” I said. And with that, plus some pillows under her hips to raise them off the bed, it became time to pin the butterfly.

One steel fastener clicked to each of the mattress handles at the head of the bed, then two more clicked on the outer ring of each ankle cuff. Two more were clicked into place on her wrist cuffs, which in turn were joined by one of the 12″ lengths of chain running under the pillows. Comfy for her, convenient for me in that her arms were now helplessly chained together at her sides.

All that was left to was spread her wings with both of the 2′ lengths of chain.

A quick Dom Tip™ – when chaining a submissive, always run your slack away from them. In other words, secure them from them out. This way you don’t have unused portions of chain hanging free right next to their skin. It looks sloppy, plus it gets in the way and, depending on how much motion activity you have planned,  could become a safety issue.

I clicked an end length of each section to each ankle, making sure the cuffs were aligned properly.

“Spread them, please” I said as emotionlessly as if I was asking her to pass the salt.

The sight and sound of her velvet thighs opening while dragging lengths of steel chain across the bed to the point where they slithered off the carefully folded over comforter, coiling on the hard wood floor in the process, was almost religious. I swear I heard angels either sing or make obscene comments.

Grasping the length attached to her left leg I made it taut.

“Comfortable?” I asked.

Leigh fidgeted a little, adjusted the pillows, readjusted where her head was, then spread her legs just a fraction more.

“I’m good” she replied.

“You’re fucking awesome” I fired back through a Cheshire cat grin. Her smile brightened the candlelit room’s glow.

The key to spread eagle chain bondage is to give the submissive the opportunity to relax into the position while keeping their legs as immobile as possible. You want them secure, tight and incapable of movement. This means no slack in the links. Period. So when I gently (we don’t need a torn hamstring) stretched the chain to where it met the fastener on the mattress handle, I clicked it one link tighter than that distance. That leg was going nowhere.

The last leg (literally) is the one where you really need to be careful you don’t, in your haste to start abusing their helplessness, cause a leg injury like a strained muscle or tendon. The first leg had the luxury of slack in that the other was free to move. Not the second leg. That one pulls and stretches tight the length of both legs and hips.

Gently I pulled the chain. Closer. Closer. Then aligned with the fastener. Just…one……more……..link

click

With that I had a helpless butterfly’s wings spread oh so fucking wide. So fucking wide. And I smiled at the absolute and total vulnerability of her smooth cunt.

The Butterfly Chains Act II

Seek And Go Hyde Act III

(To read Seek And Go Hyde Act I or Act II)

It wasn’t so much the calm before the storm as much as before the monsoon.

The rain was going to come hard and heavy, as in my cock was beyond hard and she was going to be fucked heavily with it while she came. Repeatedly. The torrential squirting that are Leigh’s G spot orgasms were all but insured, even before I entered her.

She broke the icy grip that was our combined stare long enough to glance down at the oily monster hovering inches above her helpless spread cunt. There would be no assistance needed to position its bulbous head at the opening to her already glistening slit.

I swear my cock pulsed and twitched at her, like an angry Brahma bull might do before charging.

My hands squeezed her ankles as tight as I could, eliciting a helplessly frantic whimper from Leigh when their fingers pressed deep into her tender flesh. It was a reminder, a silent fair warning to fucking behave…or else.

Hyde wanted to play.

Placing the head of my cock well below the entrance to her cunt I rolled my hips forward. The slick shaft stroked the length of her folds, teasing them, warning them, anointing them for what they were about to receive.

Again and again I used my erection like a rigid tongue on her. It felt fucking amazing how her labia caressed the frenum, making my attempts to tease her not just enjoyable physically but also spiritually. My eyes drank in her distress and growing arousal, my ears in tune with her whimpers and moans

But the inner beast Hyde took in the most. Her fear. And he wanted more. A lot fucking more.

On a lark I started to roll my hips up and down, causing the head of my cock to spank her wide open clit with a staccato thwap thwap thwap.

“Uh..uuh..uuhhh..uuhhhh” she gasped with short, shrill breaths, her legs pulling against my death grip to no avail. Leigh’s torso twisted in spasmodic reflex to the abuse her swelling lil’ button was receiving.

thwap thwap thwap thwap thwap

This was fun. I smiled, which looking back is not in character for me. But then again I really wasn’t the one cock spanking her spread cunt. Hyde was, the evil bastard. And he delighted in her increasing distress.

One last slit length stroke of her and I positioned the thick head at her cunt’s opening. She glanced down at the sight. I know she was thinking “Oh my fucking God there is no way that beast is going to fit inside there!”

“Look at me” I coldly hissed. “I SAID LOOK AT ME SLUT!”

Our eyes locked. Now joined at the soul, it was time to watch her react as we joined at the hip, inch by inch.

I leaned forward and effortlessly slid the head inside her. I’m not sure what felt better – the way her cunt flared open tight or the way her pupils flared open wide. Perhaps it was both, for I cannot recall such an amazing first fuck stroke.

Inch by inch I rolled that slick monster inside her, all the while the sick monster inside me seethed to make her scream in pain and pleasure.

A groan that one would likely imagine hearing from a graveyard at midnight escaped from her. It had a throaty quality to it, deep, husky, thick with mucous and lust. Hyde adored that. So my did cock. It pulsed inside her, eliciting more of the same from her.

After what felt like an eternity my balls pressed firmly up against her, which in turn made her rasp with not so much arousal but legitimate concern about the distinct possibility she was about to be fucking torn apart inside out.

“Ohhhhh fuck baby, that feels amazing” I groaned, pressing as hard as I could without moving, filling her to the limits of her depths. And pinned her to the mattress like that, a sexy butterfly for my personal collection. No motion, no in and out, no friction. Just complete fullness. Hot, wet, silken and vulnerable. The fact her ass cheeks, still raw from the blistering they received just the night before, were pressed hot against me was a bonus.

Leigh exhaled long and slow in an attempt to gather focus, be better able to handle this situation on all accounts. She wiggled her hips ever so slightly, allowing just a fraction more of her depths to be used. I’m sure you all know what that iota of extra space feels like, regardless if you are a man or a woman. It’s the difference between eye rolling and temporary insanity.

I did both.

My eyes rolled back into the recesses of my skull like a B movie demon. My mind….

….snapped. And I growled.

Soft and low, an unmistakable snarl rolled from somewhere inside me. Primal, raw, it had the quality of a predatory cat on the hunt the way it rrrrrrrrolled out of my lungs. I seethed to fuck her blind.

I think this happened a few times, each time growing lower and more guttural in quality. Forgive me for my lack of clarity and recall, for I honestly did not have much blood above my hips for such trivial matters like memory or sanity. Plus the whole issue of someone else being “there” in my stead.

Hyde.

With a pace rivaling melting wax I began to fuck Leigh with long, slow strokes, each one deliberately bottoming out inside her.

“Guuuuhhhhhh” was about as good as she could offer verbally. It was if my cock was obstructing her vocal chords, which is how it felt as each stroke pressed against her cervix. By the way I was kneeling between her wishboned legs each snail pace’s stroke drug the length of my erection across her G spot. Back and forth like January’s molasses, and just as sticky sweet.

Leigh especially responds to the out strokes. Those are what she loves, what turns her cunt into a broken fire hydrant. The way her body rocked and spasmed with each lunge of my cock, how her hands flailed frantically at my hips in a last ditch attempt to save her cunt and her extremely sore ass.

That pissed me off. Really pissed me off. My cunt. My orgasms. Not hers. Fuck her.

My eyes burned with rage. FUCK HER.

Fine. If she wants her hands down there, so be it.

Cold as fuck I looked right through her and, without breaking rhythm, said one thing:

“Grab your ass cheeks….now.”

“UhhhHHHHHH!!!” she whimpered in protest. She gave me those baby deer eyes, pleading, begging for mercy.

She got none. My glare gave her the verdict.

With almost sobbing despair she placed both her hands firmly on each cheek and dug her fingernails in deep. Hyde roared inside me at the scream that escaped her quivering lips.

Now it was time to fuck.

Seek And Go Hyde Act IV

A Peek Back 7-28

It’s true.

Famous actors always lament that the animals steal their best scenes. No ones remembers their performance, only how cute or funny the critter was.

It’s also true for bloggers who share sordid tales of BDSM lust, perversion and all things naughty. Write possibly the hottest Act you’ve ever keystroked in the blog’s short history and what lights up your Twitter TL like a Christmas tree the same day?

A fucking humor piece about our dog JD.

Just kidding. I’m glad JD’s initial (I’m sure you’ll hear from his nose again) post was so well received. As we always say, it does not have to be German opera 24/7 to be real BDSM and D/s.

And speaking of 24/7, did you know that is the reason for one of the following links? Curious? Read on.

For all you new Peekers™, every Saturday AM I share A Peek Back. This feature of TDND™ allows long time Followers as well as you neophyte perverts to review, with a single post,  what has transpired over the past seven days.

Oh, and I typing this Friday night so I can sleep while you read this. Or maybe I’ll be up (heh) early. Either way I’m being selfish with my time, but not at the expense of Peeker™ Nation, which is almost 400 strong now! We should get shirts printed….hhmmm.

If you are a neophyte Peeker™ welcome! I strongly encourage you to view all of the established Pages, which can be viewed by selecting any of the tabs at the top of this page.

The Archives are an inclusive, running version of every post of note on this blog. If you have not read any or all of the stories, random musings, poetry, etc linked from The Archives by all means please grab a seat, perhaps some coffee, sit back and enjoy.

So unless a fucking squirrel runs across my keyboard here are this week’s Peek Back features:

Interview With A Submission Vampire Vol.1, No. 9 – In which we tackle the age old question: plastic or glass anal plugs?

Monday’s Java Taste The Best – The weekly stream of semi-consciousness while in the midst of serious caffienation.

Chain Of Rules Act III – Leigh cuffed, collared and chained torment begins.

Seek And Go Hyde – The newest story. If you are a hand job aficionado you want to read this.

Happy International BDSM Day! – I seriously had no idea there was an official day for WIITWD.

Breaking Leigh Act IX – The longest story on the blog now finds Leigh’s completely bare and very sore ass spanked…hard.

When Words Die – An erotic poem inspired by the evening that inspired Seek And Go Hyde.

Seek And Go Hyde Act II – No bullshit. Possibly the hottest Act I have written yet. Even I needed to cool off after writing it!

The Dog Next Door – Meet JD. He chases squirrels, eats bacon, humorously blogs when I’m not looking and steals my limelight. SQUIRREL!

JD Is Famous! SQUIRREL! – Would you believe that fleabag got reblogged in a humor ePub?

A Rising Tide Floats All Boats – My obligatory post as a BDSM blogger about a certain neutral hued and much maligned book series. Not what you think.

I’m still either asleep or having morning sex! HA!

– Scot