Most Mondays I have “sneak peek” posts, but for some reason, this Monday was free. So I decided to join in Kayla Lord’s Masturbation Monday meme.
Here’s a very nasty self-pleasuring excerpt from my BDSM ménage erotic romance The Ingredients of Bliss.
I interrupted my fantasy just long enough to strip off the shirt and jeans. I was nude underneath. Pulling open the drawer of the bedside table, I retrieved a black velvet drawstring bag and extracted its contents. Harry had hidden it somewhere in his luggage and handed it to me with a triumphant grin the first night in Paris.
Though I was alone, I couldn’t help blushing at the sight of the massive dildo. Fashioned of jet black silicon, it was nine inches long and a full two inches in diameter. Harry had insisted I buy it. He’d stood laughing in the background at the adult store while I’d stuttered and fumbled with my credit card, unable to meet the clerk’s eyes.
“It will never fit,” I’d protested, after I’d obeyed his order.
We’d strolled arm in arm down Market Street, my cheeks still hot with embarrassment. I’d felt as though every passerby knew what I carried in the plain brown paper bag.
“Oh, you’re wrong, love. It will fit perfectly—not just in your pussy, but in your ass too.”
He was right of course. If I was sufficiently aroused—and I was always that way, around Harry—it slid right in. The first time he’d commanded me to fuck myself with the obscene object, I’d had one of the most intense orgasms in my life. He hadn’t inserted it into my anus yet—nor forced me to bugger myself—but I knew he would eventually.
How would that feel? My rear hole tightened at the mere thought of such an invasion.
Stretched out on the bed again, I feathered my hands over my bare breasts, across my belly and down to my cunt. The lips were slick and swollen under my fingertips. Spreading them with my left hand, I rubbed the toy over my inner folds, gathering wetness. My clit screamed for attention, but I held off, as I knew Harry would, building the tension. Instead, I eased the first inch or so of the artificial cock into my channel, pretending it was Harry’s cock.
As always, going farther felt impossible. The silicone rod was too big, too hard. My poor, tight pussy could never accommodate such a bulk. Pain flickered through the haze of my arousal as my flesh protested. “I can’t,” I moaned out load.
‘Of course you can. You will. For me.’
For Harry, I’d do anything. I released my labia, grabbed the dildo in both hands and pushed. A few more inches disappeared into my cleft. My thumb grazed my clit, triggering a bolt of pleasure that spiraled deep into my core. The pain faded, replaced by extreme sensations of fullness, sensations that pumped energy into my gathering climax.
‘Fuck yourself. Ram it in.’
I drew my knees up that I could tilt my pelvis to a better angle. With all the force I possessed, I drove the phallus into my cunt. The tip hit my cervix. I gasped in sudden agony. Then pleasure welled up, drenching me and spilling over, washing away even the memory of discomfort.
I pulled the toy part way out then slammed it back in, using the same sort of rough, fast strokes Harry favored. Incredible! Of course, the lifeless hunk of silicone couldn’t begin to match my lover’s hot supple flesh, melding with my own.
But the sense of transgression was thrilling—the knowledge that I was fucking myself with a huge toy at the orders of my Master.
Eyes closed, I summoned my lover. I wanted the dildo to be Harry’s cock, but stubbornly, I could only picture him watching, a delighted grin lighting his face.
‘That’s right, love. You keep working on your pussy. Meanwhile, I’m going to bury my cock in your ass.’
Oh, by the Wise Ones! He’d been threatening to take my rear hole for months. So far he’d done no more than talk, knowing how the notion both scared and thrilled me.
I thrust the dildo in and out with my left hand, my right toying with my clit. Just a week before we’d left for France, he’d drizzled massage oil down my crack and worked three fingers into my anus, fighting my resistant muscles. I’d thought I’d faint from the perverse pleasure of that intrusion. At the same time, I’d almost been ready to use my safe word. It was just too private, too embarrassing. I felt unbearably filthy—all the more so because I liked the feeling so very much.