A week late, but the interlude, and related thoughts, continued.
Conversation paused and Luther and Marie started to kiss. It was beautiful- one of those moments where you could tell on some level they enjoyed knowing they were being watched, but mostly they were lost in the moment, kissing and touching each other and forgetting the rest of the world existed.
We were all naked; after the hot tub, getting dressed again had seemed silly and Emma and Rachel and I were laying entangled, hands idly exploring each other- watching. At other times, the three of us might have gotten lost in our own playing, but right now this was so beautiful, watching the passion and love and connection between Marie and Luther. Luther leaned back, and Marie’s kisses trailed down his chest and I could feel Rachel’s excitement as she learned forward to take it all in. Emma and I aren’t jaded about watching our friends fuck, and I hope never will be, but this wasn’t new for us the way it was for Rachel. She’s been with us to a few parties, but is still finding her way in that world, and Marie and Luther are people she’s made a strong connection with, people she’s grown close to and quite attracted to.
Feeling her eagerness and excitement as we watched, seeing his eyes close and his head fall back onto the bed as Marie took his cock into her mouth- I was struck by the sacredness in that room. We’d lit no candles or incense, we were in a holiday inn, not forest or ritual space, and we’d sung no songs or chants or other incantations- but watching them, feeling Emma curled up against me and stroking my back, hearing Rachel’s breathing getting quicker and heavier as she watched, entranced, that night was as sacred as Easter morning.
But we weren’t there just to watch. Nothing was set in stone, but there something of a plan for the evening- a possible fantasy to live out, should we all feel comfortable going there.
Marie paused her sucking for a moment, pushing her hair back before resuming her attentions to Luther’s cock. As she did, she looked to Rachel with a look of question and invitation, and I patted Rachel’s ass and whispered in her ear, “she needs help- join her.”
Rachel looked up at me questioningly, wanting to be sure she heard me right, wanting to experience that moment of being commanded one more time, and I nodded and said again, in that gentle but firm voice when I’m being clear there will be no debate- “join her.” Her face lit up, and I could see her fighting so hard to not let out one of her “EEEEEEEEEEEE”’s and she moved down the bed. Marie saw her and made room, holding Luther’s cock at the base, slowly stroking him and kissing his balls as Rachel’s mouth took him in.
Did I command her to join them or did I give her permission? The only answer is yes. That sort of chicken and the egg, who has the real power question- when D/s is at its best, I tend to believe the answer is both/and. I was pushing Rachel, pushing her into something that she was nervous about, and also so very eager. Gently guiding her beyond her own fears and into her fantasies.
This moment, and what followed, was something she and I had spoken of many times. She loved the idea of letting her inner slut out to play, of teasing and taunting and hunting cute boys and having her way with them, of showing off what a good cocksucker she was for her master and pleasing his friends, of having two men, or more, at once, of being free and wild and letting herself enjoy whatever hedonistic pleasures came her way.
But she also had reason to be careful, to be cautious. Some experiences with boys who didn’t understand “no” and who didn’t understand someone might want to go so far and yet no further, combined with a fear of sex addiction, of just using sex the way someone else might use booze or a drug to run away from the rest of life- all of it meant she was cautious about letting herself go too far into sexual exploration. When she and I fell into bed some months ago I was in some ways her first; certainly her first that had been truly consensual in every sense of the word.
And so, as our relationship took on a strong D/s aspect, we worked out an intricate dance. She would get to flirt, and tease, and play, and thrive in her sexuality- but need my permission to cross certain lines. And it became a delicious game we could have fun with. If the gentleman who was trying to seduce her online wanted to see pictures, he had to IM me and ask. If a new playmate wanted to enjoy her, he (and in one wonderful incident, she) needed to discuss it with me. I’ll never forget the moment I got a phone call from a stuttering nervous college boy saying “hey, um… so I met this girl named Rachel, and she wants to make out with me, but she told me I need your permission so, ummm… can I make out with her?” And through some cheap cell-phone, I could still hear that “EEEEEEEE” in the background that told me all was well and as it should be. And I talked with him for a bit, told him the rules, and let them enjoy.
There with other moments like that, other adventures with boys she knew, and got to make out with like a horny teenager, re-experiencing what she never got to have in her own adolescence because like too many people I know she was a 40 year old when she was 14.
Those moments were more good dirty fun then anything else- playing with D/s energy, letting her be the vixen who has what the boys want, but makes them jump through
hoops before they can play with her tits. Neither of us fooled ourselves into thinking that my permission would magically keep her safe. It was her own judgment that let her decide which boys to be alone with. But it let her be safe emotionally and let her enjoy her inner slut, knowing there were rules. She’d pout when I spelled out what was off limits on a particular night but when we’d talk later she’d thank me, and agree she hadn’t been ready to go further. And of course, throughout it all was the hotness of her body being my toy- a toy that I got to choose who enjoyed and how. When we’d talk afterward, she’d tell me how wet she got reading the IM discussion her suitor and I were having, knowing later that when he fingered her it would be at my permission. The two of us having negotiated the use and terms of her body turned her on to no end, knowing that when she straddled a boy in his car and rubbed her body against him she had to hold back because she needed her master’s permission to do more. And of course, it added a whole other dimension to our own play. I’d bend her over my bed and make her tell me about what a slut she’d been and my hand would spank her ass harder and harder. I’d wrap my hand in her hair and pull as I fucked her, whispering dirty terrible wonderful things in her ear about what she’d done, what I’d made her do, about how others had enjoyed my toy, and feeling her body react.
As for going further- what we had agreed was that going down on another guy, or fucking another guy were things she wanted to do, wanted to explore, but needed to feel safe with the particular guy, a not just safe, but connected. That the idea of being given to someone of my choosing was deliciously hot, and in time she wanted me to give her to someone she had no connection with except through me but that she wanted and needed her first time with another guy since she and I started seeing each other to be with someone who on some levels we both chose- someone I picked, but picked in large part because it was someone she felt right with.
With Luther- it felt right. I knew she wanted him. They’d met before and played lightly and had a wonderful connection. I trusted him and knew how respectful of the situation between her and I he was. Someone I knew would be ok stopping if something wasn’t right. And I knew it wasn’t so much of a given that my giving her wouldn’t just be a formality. That it would be at my command that she’d give her body to him- but we’d both know I’d commanded it with him because I knew she felt safe.
D/s for me, is so many things. It can be all about the two people, about spanking and hair pulling and name calling, and the way a pretty girl’s eyes go wide as my hand slaps her face or the way her pussy tightens around me as my hand wraps around her throat. It can be an elegant evening at some fancy restaurant, making pleasant conversation over dinner and looking for all the world like Joe and Jane Q. Normal, but both of us knowing that every part of her outfit was chosen by me, from her dress to her garters to her panties or possible lack there of. I adore D/s that has nothing to do with anyone else, just myself and my submissive.
But there is a particular charge when others are involved, and understand that dynamic. Watching Luther’s face as she took his cock all the way to the back of her throat, smiling at him as I entered her from behind and he could feel her moans against him, cradling her head in my lap as he entered her, and knowing that it was at my leave that he enjoyed her- so delicious. So hot. Seeing her literally radiate joy, feeling the eagerness with which she attacked my cock as he took her, watching her and Marie kiss and Marie’s joy at seeing someone experience for the first time something she’s herself come to know and love, hearing Rachel squee with joy as we cuddled afterward and having her kiss me and thank me for making that fantasy happen- words fail me.
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