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

Chain Of Rules Act VII

(To read Chain Of Rules Act IAct IIAct IIIAct IVAct V or Act VI)

As soon as my hand caressed the gentle slope of her ass cheek, Leigh knew she was going to be spanked.

Closing my eyes I can still see her the small of her back gracefully sliding into the curve of her backside. From the side the view is breathtaking. As much as I lose my mind when she places her shoulders flat and raises her hips, the lateral view of the female spine is, without question, geometric perfection. No other curve in nature even comes close.

We were made for each other. My hand reaches her sweet spot…

Oh, yeah. The sweet spot. Every woman has one, and not the one located under her clitoral hood or hiding inside her up under her pubic bone. No, each and every woman has a spot on her ass that, when struck, makes her eyes glaze over with thoughts of more. Each woman is different in this regard. For some its all over her ass. No matter where she’ll beam. Actually they want all over. Spanking in the same spot repeatedly is what heightens endorphin production.

Others want the fleshy mass struck. Some crave what is actually upper thigh, which really stings like a mother fucker. Not many seem to like the upper cheeks near the back, which is perfectly understandable as well as advisable. Never, I mean never, strike a submissive with any force or impact play there. Their kidneys thank you.

Leigh’s sweet spot is on the underside of each ass cheek, right above the crease where the thigh starts. That’s my target. I need to hit there repeatedly, accurately and often. If my hand strays I can tell by the sound. That’s also how I can tell if the force is right. Once I am dialed in muscle memory will allow me to spank each cheek in the exact same place a thousand or so times.

But, as I was saying, my hand reaches her sweet spot when she stands next to me. It’s a perfect fit. It’s easy on my shoulders and back, which is nice as well as convenient.

It means I can spank her longer.

Leigh arched backward into my hand, the cleft of her ass flaring open as an invitation to explore its secrets. By doing so her chest thrust outward in the opposing direction. The effect on her silhouette was …

“Fuckkkkkkk!” I exclaimed at the erotic perfection now at my mercy. The curvature of her spine was exaggerated to such a degree it took my breath away. Her full breasts provided a perfect counter to her round ass.

“My God baby you look fucking amazing” was my offering to her as my hands explored the gifts being presented. With a hand on her breast, another clutching her ass, my mouth inhaling her neck she was in heaven. As was I.

The next few minutes were spent in worship of my chained angel. I explored as much of her nude form as I could. No curve was left untouched, no part of her neck unlicked, no orifice unexplored. Except that damn belly button. Someday…

Nipples were gently tweeked, collar bones nibbled on, ass cheeks made to ripen with goosebumps. Her torso painted with feathery touches, the nape of her neck grazed upon, her cunt and asshole teased with fingertips.

The way my hand circled her ass cheek should have been a hint.

SMACK!

Leigh was so far into being touched that she purred at the introduction to being spanked. The ritual that we share as far as touch-spank-other cheek-repeat began. The room filled with smacking sounds, only broken by her sighs and deep breathing.

Yeah, she was into it.

The pinching of a nipple elicited a sharp breath. This was the first time I’d ever had the opportunity to abuse her breasts and ass simultaneously. Playing one off the other was exquisite, but no where as striking (bad spanking joke) as her reaction to one or the other, better yet both. I could feel her confusion at how to weather this dual front storm. Normally she could just focus on spanking or nipple play.

Now she had to do both at the same time. While chain bound.

The steady rhythm of smack smack smack smack escalated in frequency as I tried to bring her to a plateau. My other hand continued to work those already raw nipples over with more attention. Her breath grew ragged, her torso twisted in a sad attempt to evade my hand. That only made my spanking more likely to SMUCK instead of SMACK when she moved the target.

I take a lot of fucking pride in my ability to administer a good spanking. I do not take well to hearing SMUCK when its not my carelessness causing it.

“Hold still” I ordered. As much as I adore her squirms (she is a world class writher) they were beginning to piss me off mildly as far as all this SMUCKING.

Leigh exhaled with one of her “HhhhhhhmmmMMMM” pouts. I love that fucking sound. It says “I don’t wanna!!!……but I will.”

Yet again she found herself practicing self-bondage through forced posture. That made me smile.

Once properly posed it was easy to play her like a first seat would their cello. Now her noises were more from duress, her arousal from pain not pleasure. Again and again I took her ass and breasts through their respective paces. The smacks grew louder, harder, her nipples tugged on longer and tighter.

By the time her panting signaled she had reached a new level I backed off to allow her to acclimate to her new altitude. The aroma of female arousal filling the room made me content.

Content to finish her off in style by enjoying that wet cunt of hers.

Seek And Go Hyde Act VI

(To read Seek And Go Hyde Act IAct IIAct IIIAct 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 Looking Glass Act II

(Note – If you wish, you can listen to the same song that Leigh & I did while the following occurred. Just open the link in a new window)

To read The Looking Glass Act I

“So when the sun goes down
And those nights grow colder,
I will be there
Looking over your shoulder. “

– The Deeper The Love, Whitesnake

I couldn’t help but hear David Coverdale’s voice as I looked over Leigh’s shoulder. The sun had gone done, and the nights had grown colder. And there I was behind her.

Our eyes gazed into one another’s through the mirror’s reflection, a precursor of what the next fifteen or so minutes held for us. My face, only partially visible, floated above her left shoulder. There was a macabre quality to the way the candle illuminated my features with drama, some areas almost void. My right arm draped across her chest, the left around her stomach. Candlelight makes my forearms damn impressive, if I say so myself. It looked like a muscular snake had coiled around her nude form.

Leigh, on the other hand, looked like a goddess.

If you have read any of the stories I’ve shared, you know that candles are de facto to our play. The sputter and hiss of wicks singing anew are often the first part of the ritual, usually followed by the bedroom door being shut. Leigh and candlelight go together like peanut butter and jelly. They were made for one another, the sum greater than their parts. She glows under their flickering gaze. The blank canvas that is her alabaster skin becomes a masterpiece of erotic theater. Hues of pale tangerine and warm cream hint at its texture. Aside from the pale blue of the first light of day, she never looks sexier than she does when awash in candlelight.

Having a candle not even arm’s length from where we stood made her skin torturous. I wanted to devour her. The mmmmmmmmmmm of the vibrator’s RPMs would more than sufficiently do the same. In time.

“You,” I said trailing a kiss down her nape, “look incredible.” More dry bites, my eyes on hers in the mirror, my hands on each breast in the reflection. To feel her nipples harden under my touch, but see her whole body’s reaction to the same, was exquisite.

“So,” scraping my teeth across her arched neck, “fucking,” taking the opportunity to use my tongue on the same, ” beautiful.”

“Look at yourself” I exclaimed. It wasn’t an order, nor begging. It was shared excitement at the vision in the mirror, and I wanted to share it.

She looked into my eyes, not the reflection as a whole. The vibrator constantly hummed while a soulful melody filled the room.

“Not at me,” I said, “at you. Us. Look at how fucking beautiful you are.”

Her eyes left mine and joined her own in the mirror. She finally saw herself. Us. It.

Standing with legs slightly spread, her hand moved in slow, steady circles, each one a lap of her clit with the mini-vibe. Again and again the mmmmmmm faded slightly, each echo another tease. From behind, thick forearms enveloped her torso, their hands kneading each breast.

Leigh’s face was angelic in its slow surrender to her own manipulations. The music haunting us from across the room seemed all too perfect. Delicate, drawn out, the repetitious melody grew in intensity as the minutes passed. Her eyes closed as she sank back into my chest, each breath an escape. It was more prayer than seduction.

I really hope you chose to listen to the audio option provided to you. Perhaps you’ll get a small taste, a fleeting glimpse, a faint echo of what I was privy to as the first moans escaped her throat. If you chose not to, that’s your right and I respect it. I think you’re a fool, but at least a respected one.

The gestalt of the scene enveloped me in a hypnotic spell. Just as Leigh seduced her body with her hand, I succumbed to her siren’s song. Not one of lyrics or verse, but rather of spells and hints.

Leigh exhaled in drawn out sighs, indicating she was becoming aroused. It wouldn’t be long until they were replaced with moans or purring.

My eyes played leap frog. Mirror. Over her shoulder. My hands. Back to the mirror. Her breasts. My hands on them. Back on her face. Now at her face. Down to her hand on her clit. Then her arm using the oak dresser as support.

“Be careful,” I said, while moving the candle mere inches from where she gripped the dresser’s edge, “we don’t need to be explaining the kinky burn pattern to the EMTs when they arrive.”

She laughed, drawing some much needed levity.

“Yeah, it would be difficult to explain how I got burnt there…and there…and there” she replied, all the while the mmmmmmmmm of the mini-vibe kept perfect time.

Now it was my turn to laugh. We both smiled at each other’s reflection. Our eyes met.

Her moan brought us both back to the matter at hand. Literally.

I trailed my fingers down the length of her left arm, with which she held the dresser. Goosebumps leapt from her skin, their shadows easily discernible in the candle’s glow. As my fingertips danced across the thin flesh of her inner forearm she purred loudly. The vibe purred louder as well.

A nipple grew rigid between my fingers. My lips greeted her offered throat. We danced as lovers, not moving a single step, yet completely in time to the rhythm of the moment, a vibrator steadily agitating her clitoris. By her own hand. At that moment neither of us could imagine the lengths to which we were going to need to go to get to where she needed to be.

We were about to find out just how far that was.

A Peek Back 9-1

You guys amaze me.

In the span of a week not only did the blog crush the previous single day views record but also, with month’s end, saw the one for views in a month toasted by 40%. And it’s very likely that by sundown Sunday (great, now I’m writing folk rock) the views in a single week benchmark will fall as well.

At some point this upcoming week we’ll surpass 30,000 views. It wasn’t even last month that 20,000 was crossed.

You’ll have to forgive me for all of this, but it really does make me feel very humble.

It’s cool to see that people are getting it (stop giggling). And by that I mean our purpose – to demystify the stereotypical D/s and BDSM persona and help people embrace their inner Dominant and/or submissive. With coffee.

We truly appreciate all the love, energy, honesty and general pervertedness you share with us. Things we have shared have directly impacted the lives of others for the better. Perverts, er, people we only know via bits and bytes (probably some nibbles on their end but I digress). That makes all the time, effort and coffee poured into the stories, musings, etc. worth it. To know that, out there in the dark, a couple whose sexually embers had grown dim and cold are now inferno hot. Or that someone who took a chance and listened to that voice whispering inside them. You know, the one that drives you crazy with thoughts of BDSM and D/s? Now they are the ones writing tales that inspire others.

Or questions asked either in simple curiosity or outright concern, the answers providing some assistance in their decisions. All of which, to a T (or should that be a D/s?) impacts every other aspect of their lives and for the better.

So thank you. Seriously. A 21 cake salute will be consumed in your honor. Well, not really, but any excuse for cake is a good one.

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 (we’re big on coffee as you will find out) sit back and enjoy.

Before I get all teary eyed and want a group hug while singing Cumbaya, its time to Peek Back:

Interview With A Submission Vampire Vol.1 No.14 – In which I answer an extremely personal question that gets asked. A lot.

A New Monday, Same Ol’ Java – Sometimes I amaze myself how cognizant I can be so early on a Monday while mainlining dark roast.

Seek And Go Hyde Act V – Things get very intense and sadistic. This Act really pushed some Peekers™ comfort level. Read at your discretion.

The Words Of Power – A BDSM musing inspired by the reaction to the above.

Soundtrack To The Looking Glass – The beautiful, ironically titled song that accompanied the magic of the moment in time that became The Looking Glass.

The Looking Glass – Possibly the most personal scene Leigh and I have shared. Not what most think of as such. You’ll see.

Our Secret – My poetic response to that which was The Looking Glass. Figured out yet that this was something special?

Chain Of Rules Act VI – Leigh’s helpless nipples continue to be a source of pleasure. And pain. Lots.

Someone Shared Our Secret – When a professional Domme/Switch thinks your erotic poem is good enough to republish, that is a compliment.

The Dom Next Door Unchained – Gina West – Peeker™ & erotic author Regina West shares what she and her husband shared as a result of reading TDND™. See? You too can play along at home!

Once again, a sincere thank you to all.

– Scot

The Dom Next Door Unchained – Gina West

Welcome to the second installment of what I hope will become a more regular feature on TDND™ –Unchained.

Unchained (not literally…geeze) is what others refer to as guest blogging, but with a twist. Rather than a blogging peer being invited to write something on or about a particular subject, Unchained has a theme:

Discourses, thoughts and reactions on any of the various offerings found on The Dom Next Door™ and how they were affected by them.

In other words, an outlet for the voice of Peeker™ Nation. Could be in regards to a story, random BDSM musing, poetry or the blog in general.

Eventually it is my hope that the entirety of all the Unchained submissions (heh) will weave a lovely quilt, each square or patch as unique and beautiful as it’s stitcher. When they are combined into a rich tapestry of experiences, thoughts and opinions, they metamorphosize into something greater than the sum of its naughty parts, their main delineator of TDND™ being the thread that makes them one common voice.

Yours.

So link by link, we are forging a chain of such tales. Stories that are at the core of what this blog is really about. No, not coffee. But rather the demystification of the stereotypical D/s persona and dynamic, as well as helping Peekers™ find their inner Dom or sub.

This Unchained link started with a simple, innocent  (stop smirking Gina) Twitter message regarding the BDSM On A Budget series. When a Peeker™ says  “About The Chains™? Um, thanks. Yeah…” it sure sounded as if someone had a positively naughty experience as a result of the blog. Which is everything Leigh and I stand (kneel? lie down? arch?) for. And it also screamed (seriously, just….stop it) potential for a perfect Unchained post.

I was right. Holy shit was I right. You’ll see.

So without further adieu The Dom Next Door™ Unchains the aspiring romance/erotica novelist, mom, wife, avid reader, student of classical guitar, seeker of knowledge and wisdom and introvert (Ha!) Regina West:

My husband and I read and discuss nearly every TDND™ post. Like Scot and Leigh, we have been married for many years and have embarked on a similar sexual journey. I won’t say what drove us to explore BDSM because it’s almost cliché at this point, but I will say that we are definitely exploring and that we are brand spanking (pun intended) new at this. So far, we’ve found ourselves adopting more of the BD aspect than the SM. Some might consider that plain old vanilla, maybe French vanilla, and that’s fine. I refuse to participate in a pissing contest about it. We like what we like.

Which leads me to the latest TDND™ post that kindled a fire in our household.

After reading Chain Of Rules Act II, I admit I was having visions of cuffs and eye bolts and chains (oh my). I found myself dreamily staring at doorways, wondering if anyone would notice if we put eye bolts at the four corners. The wooden rafters in our basement suddenly seemed like the perfect place for an entire bondage set-up leaving plenty of room for a Dom to circle his prey . . . um, I mean sub.

Then when Scot posted BDSM on a Budget – The Chains™, he mixed the two best words in the English language – chains and budget – and that was our cue. The next day, my husband went to Lowes and came back with a variety of chain lengths and a pack of snap hooks, all for around $30.

Unfortunately, we couldn’t launch into kinky home remodeling right away, nor could we use our BDSM-unfriendly bed. Years ago when we bought it for its minimalist look, we weren’t considering its bondage possibilities. The headboard is one huge slab of wood with no legs around which one might wrap a chain, and even the mattress, a Tempur-Pedic which is fantabulous for sleeping, doesn’t have handles on the sides. What’s a horny married couple to do? Improvise, that’s what.

By the time we could ditch the kids and have some alone time, I’d already been thinking about those damn chains for hours. Then my sadistic husband decided he needed a shower. More waiting, and worse, he ordered me to touch myself until he was done. Thank God he takes quick showers. Once he joined me, it only took maybe four nasty twists on my nipples to send me skyrocketing.

But I’d made a mistake. I hadn’t asked if I could orgasm (another thing we learned from TDND™). I swear I meant to ask, but I’d teased myself into a frenzy and then he did all the right things to my body and . . . well, you try stopping a speeding train!

After that, he ordered me to stand up, spun me to face away from him, and pushed me down onto the bed on my stomach. With my wrist and ankle cuffs already in place, it only took a moment for him to bind my hands and feet behind my back with the one-foot chain. Hog tied, boys and girls. That’s right. If you’ve never tried it, you are seriously missing out.

Flat on my stomach, arms and legs bent behind me, completely immobile.

He positioned himself between my legs and slid into me, reminding me once again that I had come without his permission. He then grabbed the flogger, and I paid for that error with several lashes. When he decided I’d had enough of that, he took hold of the chain, the handle he would use to manipulate my helpless form, and yanked. My back arched, my arms pulled up behind me. His fist wound through my hair and tugged my head back, and he pounded into me with enough force to bruise my hips.

Heaven help me, it was glorious!

I was completely at his mercy, the chain his leverage. He muttered filthy things while he doled out this most pleasurable punishment for my disobedience.

The pounding reached its peak, and we were both moaning when he gave the final push. You know the one – when he buries himself so deep in you, you wonder if you’ve become one being. With a final roar, he held himself in that place for a long moment before he collapsed over my back and pressed his cheek between my shoulder blades. Gasping for air, the chain still twisted in his fist, my husband said the first words that came to mind. “Holy shit!”

My sentiments exactly.

This is generally how it happens in our house. We read something on TDND™ and let it percolate in our minds until we have no choice but to try it. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t. But it’s been a blessing to have as a guide the blog of two regular married folks who approach this with caution and knowledge but without brutality. I look forward to many, many new adventures.

– Gina West

Anyone else need some fresh air or a cooling shower? Damn! And to think the blog played a role in this? (does that make this role play?) Humbling.

Thank you Gina for sharing that very personal and extremely erotic moment, one I hope is just the first of many more for you and your Sir.

– Scot

Chain Of Rules Act VI

(To read Chain Of Rules Act IAct IIAct III,  Act IV or Act V)

She had to hold very still, lest the finger flogging her nipple catch the skin of her upper breast, which would really fucking hurt, and not in the good way.

I know, its bad enough that I cuffed and chained her standing like that, defenseless to my perverted means and inclinations. As if that wasn’t enough restraint, now Leigh was forced to administer the same to herself, but from within.

It was all part of the mind fuck, and she hates to admit that she loves when the space between ears becomes more engorged with lust than the space between her thighs. But its true. When I push the envelope on a mental, spiritual and verbal level she practically soaks herself.

So, after that excruciating flick that made her scream I…

…what’s that? No, I did not continue to do that repeatedly. Once was enough to not just excite but drive her to Franticville. It’s not the what you do, but the how. Not how many, but when. Not when you do but when you don’t. This is what kept her sharp, focused, alert and constantly on edge.

Sure, I could just have just reared back and repeatedly flicked her nipples raw, which would have allowed her to focus all her energy on one tiny aspect of our play instead of flicking them violently once, then making her wait for if and when it would happen again. One play puts her in short term survival mode, the other in long term defense mode. One puts her on her toes for a few seconds, the other keeps her on them the entire time.

Think about it. Which is worse – knowing steady pain or the anticipation of it’s impending, sharp arrival…or not?

I thought so.

But that didn’t mean they were going to get off Scot free (heh).

“Shhhhhhhhh,” I whispered from behind her, her nude gyrating form a quivering mass of neurology gone mad.

“Hold still. Hold,” I grabbed her right breast fully with my left hand,

“very,” squeezed it firm as if she was going to be milked,

“still,” while I placed the extended pointer finger of my right hand inches above its nipple, so proudly thrust outward as a result of my grip.

Leigh froze, her feet a fidgeted blur of activity against the chains, bracing herself motionless as best she could. The breath from her nose was short, shallow and hinted at her growing anxiety over what she knew was about to..

thwack

Down came my pointer finger like a flogger’s tail, thudding against the protruding nipple with a delicious amount of force.

“AEEEEHHHHH!!” Leigh winced, her body lurching violently against the restraints. The tuunngggg of the chains echoed…

thwack

“OoohooOhhhOohh” …her breath a vain, feeble and frustrating attempt to…

thwack

“EeeeeehhHHHHH” …keep the spit from flying out of her…

thwack

“UhhhUHHUHhuuhhUHHH” …clenched teeth as her nipple hardened to an…

thwack

“MmmmmmHHMMMM!!! … engorged nub the size of which rivaled the…

thwack

“UhhhuhhuhhuhhHHH!!!!” …width of the finger causing it all the discomfort. The irony.

She snorted as if she had been a thoroughbred put away wet and unwashed after a day of wild running. Short, ragged, pulsing gasps punctuated by long, slow, drawn out shrills. It was exquisite to listen to, let alone be able to control the volume and tempo of with just one finger.

I could smell the arousal dripping in rivulets down her leg. The scattered drops of the same painted the hardwood floor with a patina of lust.

She whined, her pouted lips aquiver when my hands changed roles to apply the same attention to her other breast. Her reactions were no less arousing, perhaps even more so in that she knew what was coming. This continued for a few minutes as I alternated each breast with the same sadistic attentions. She seethed and cried, tugged and pulled at the chains, whimpered, moaned, soaked herself and our surroundings with her wetness.

By the time I stopped and began to softly massage her breasts, my fingers feathering across their entirety with the force of a butterfly’s wing, she was a sopping mess.

“Good girl,” I whispered to her slack form. My touches and voice became a port of refuge from the storm of the chains, “such a good girl.”

So it should not have come as a surprise when

FLICK!

My coiled middle fingers exploded from the trigger my thumbs provided. The violent, sudden contact with the ends of each nipple was quick, brutal and done with. And just as before, Leigh screamed.

I told you. It’s not the what you do, but the how. Not how many, but when. Not when you do but when you don’t.

With that I stepped out from behind and took a position aside her. My legs straddled the chain running taut from her left leg to the door frame behind me, a 3″ stainless steel eye hook insuring that it or Leigh were going nowhere. Both my hands surveyed her tight skin from knees to neck and everywhere in between. The left hand enjoyed her thighs, hips, cunt, stomach and breasts, its counterpart her hamstrings, ass cheeks, back and neck.

So soft, so vulnerable, so beautiful. I couldn’t resist leaning in to allow my teeth the same privilege, grazing the sloping skin of her nape and shoulders with an obligatory bite on her very hard nipple.

Leigh cooed at the touches, purred with each stroke. She had been a very good girl and, aside from giving her a much needed chance to catch her breath it was a reward of sorts. Plus, on a purely selfish level, I just fucking love to touch the alabaster velvet her skin is when its so taut.

And besides, I had a very good reason for standing on her left side. This position placed my right hand behind her.

You know, the hand I spank her with.

Chain Of Rules Act VII