Human life

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-12 08:11:16

I stumbled upon SM by chance and became madly in love with it. I often fantasized about having a very domineering master, and being his submissive slave, bitch, and slut. To realize my fantasy, I spent my days browsing SM websites, and finally one day I decided to post a thread seeking a master. I immediately received many replies, and I chatted with a few people who seemed nice.
Later, a man gradually attracted me. His conversation, his knowledge, his understanding of SM, and his thoughtfulness and care all made me feel that he was the one who could help me realize my fantasy. Later, we video chatted, talked on the phone, and had several online and telephone sessions. Finally, we decided to meet and turn our illusory passion into a real experience. He
specified what I should wear, required me to shave my pubic hair, and insisted that I arrive at the meeting place on time.
Despite having communicated and gotten to know each other a lot, I was still very nervous, but I had to go because I wanted to know the real feeling of SM. When I
arrived at the agreed location, a not-so-luxurious chain hotel, he was already waiting for me in the room. He knocked on the door and simply greeted me, his tone cold and confident. After entering the room and closing the door, he didn't offer me a seat but instead ordered me to take off my pants. He wanted to check if I had shaved my pubic hair as he had instructed. Seeing that my vulva was no longer the hairy mess he had seen in the video, he smiled with satisfaction.
He asked me to sit down and told me that if I didn't obey his orders, he would immediately kick me out of the room. Then, he brought me a cup of steaming hot tea. I took the cup, hesitated, and looked at him, not wanting to drink it because I had heard too many stories of being drugged and raped.
He noticed my hesitation and knew what I was thinking, so he told me he would give me a drink that was absolutely free of drugs. Saying this, he ordered me to undress, then grabbed my hair and dragged me to the bathroom, ordering me to kneel in the bathtub. He unzipped his pants and started urinating on me, saying, "Drink this, it'll be fine."
The clear, warm liquid poured over my hair and cheeks, mingling with my tears of humiliation, but I felt excited. I knew I had truly met a cool master. Although I didn't open my mouth, some of the fishy liquid still flowed into it.
After being gently cleaned by my master, I was taken back to the room. He took out a thick brown rope and bound my naked body tightly. I felt my hands, which were held high behind my back, immediately go numb. The fine fibers of the brown rope pricked my delicate skin, and even the slightest movement caused a needle-like pain. Then, my nipples were clamped between large metal folders, and the piercing pain made me groan.
He made me half-lie against the headboard, raising my legs and spreading them out in an M-shape, then he leaned in and examined my lower body closely. "Tell me, how many men have you been with before and after your marriage?" He played with my labia with his fingers, then inserted two fingers into my vagina, thrusting them in and out as he asked.
"Two."
"Impossible," he said, flicking my clitoris sharply with his finger, causing my body to involuntarily curl up. "Your labia are so large and dark, how could you have only been with two men? Tell the truth, or you'll be punished."
"Oh, I really don't remember. Except for a few special ones, I don't remember exactly how many men I've been with." Knowing he was an experienced man, I had no choice but to answer honestly.
"Let's talk about the special ones. First, tell me about your first man, you definitely remember that."
"My first man was a neighbor, an old man in his fifties, who seduced me when I was 13. Then there was my first love, my college classmate, and then my husband."
"Oh, all of that was before marriage, right? What about after marriage?"
"I only remember cheating on my best man with me on our wedding night, then having sex with two of my husband's friends, and then playing the swapping game with my husband."
"Ha, you're really slutty! You've been with so many men!" Saying that, he slapped my vulva hard, making my juices splatter and causing me to scream. I thought to myself, if I wasn't slutty, how could I be tied up here and played with like this?
"In that case, I'm going to teach you a lesson. Turn over and lie face down!" Saying that, he took out a leather whip from his bag and stood behind me. "Tell me, how many men have you been with?"
"Let's say 20."
"Fine, then I'll whip you 20 times. You can count them yourself."
The whip struck my upturned buttocks repeatedly, and it really hurt. I didn't know why I had come here to endure this stranger's manipulation, whipping, and verbal humiliation. Tears welled up again. But my lower body was also uncooperatively wet, and vaginal fluid flowed down my thighs.
"Alright, now you can serve me." He threw away the whip, untied the rope binding my hands, and removed the clamps from my nipples. My arms, now freed, felt a tingling, needle-like pain from the return of blood, and it took a while for me to adjust. I looked at the deep marks on my arms and the skin pierced by the fibers of the rope, and felt a pang of sadness.
Just as I was kneeling before him, trying to give him oral sex, my phone rang. I knew it was my husband calling because before I came to see him, I was worried something might happen, so I called him and told him I was going to meet someone I met online and asked him to call me in two hours. My husband understood what I meant and didn't ask any more questions.
Just as I got up to answer the phone, he was about to climax, so he held my head tightly to prevent me from getting up until he ejaculated all his semen into my mouth before letting go.
I hurriedly swallowed the slippery liquid, not even bothering to wipe the semen from the corner of my mouth. Just as I picked up my phone, I heard my husband's anxious voice on the other end: "Hello, what's wrong? Where are you? Why did it take you so long to answer the phone? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, don't worry, it's nothing. I just didn't hear the phone ring. I was eating, it's too noisy here. It's okay, it's okay."
"It's past 10 pm, why are you eating so late? Where are you? I'll come pick you up right away, it's getting late, we should go home." "
Oh, no need, no need, I'll be right back."
"No, I have to come pick you up. Tell me where you are?"
I know my husband's temper; his mind is not to be changed. I had no choice but to tell him the name of the hotel. After hanging up, I apologized to him, saying that I could only go this far today, and my husband was coming to pick me up.
He seemed a little nervous after hearing my words, saying that it was indeed getting late and he also had to go home, and quickly got up and tidied his clothes. Seeing that he didn't seem satisfied, I felt a little apologetic, so I took the initiative to kiss him, saying that I would definitely make him enjoy himself properly next time. But I knew in my heart that maybe there wouldn't be a next time.
Back home, lying in my husband's arms, letting his warm hands caress my skin. He looked at the marks from being tied up on my arms, the several lacerations, the whip marks on my buttocks, and the cracked nipples, and said with heartache, "How can you not care about yourself at all? Look what he's done to you! It makes me so angry!"
My head rested on my husband's chest, my hand tightly gripping his hard penis, stroking it up and down, and I sighed, replying, "I'm just cheap!" (
The second part is about an office affair .)
He'd been working in our office for a few weeks now, temporarily borrowed because one of the girls in our office was on maternity leave. He'd only been there a few days when he set his sights on me, always coming over to chat me up. I told my husband about it, and his assessment was: "There's always something to harass someone who's being harassed; flies don't land on eggs without cracks." He told me to tone it down and not make a scene in the office.
I thought to myself, "Your wife was harassed by someone, and you're blaming her? Is there no justice in this world?" He looked completely unconcerned, as if he supported M's actions. Fine, since you won't stand up for your wife, then I'll give you one.
Gradually, through my interactions with M, I came to think of him as a decent man. Although a few years younger than me, he was mature, meticulous and serious at work, and considerate towards women; his gentle and charming manner wasn't off-putting. Of course, I knew his intentions; my body was his ultimate goal.
To respond to his teasing and harassment, I started wearing more revealing clothes to work, such as short, tight skirts, black stockings, and low-cut shirts that subtly revealed my lace bra.
M immediately noticed the change in my attire. He approached me more frequently, often finding ridiculous excuses to chat by my desk and secretly peeking at my breasts through my neckline.
However, whether he was timid or simply didn't understand my feelings, several weeks passed without him making any further moves. He neither invited me out to dinner nor secretly touched my body in the office. It seemed I had to be more proactive.
That day, as I walked past his desk, I deliberately tossed him a pencil. He looked up at me, and I gestured with my chin towards the outside, indicating he should come with me. Seeing him slowly following behind, I walked to the elevator, pointed upwards, and went in first. When we reached the top floor, I went down one floor via the fire escape and waited for him in a secluded spot.
M was quite clever; he followed me to the top floor and seemed to know I was at the fire escape. But when he entered the stairwell and didn't see me, he called out softly, "Sister Yuan."
I peeked out from below and waved to him, and he quickly ran down. Without a word, I threw myself into his arms, playfully scolding, "Why do you keep bothering me?" He didn't answer, just held me tightly and kissed me passionately. My tongue swirled in his mouth, and his hands vigorously kneaded my breasts. After a while, he pressed my shoulders down, and I knew what he wanted to do, so I knelt down in front of him.
M leaned against the wall, his lower abdomen thrusting forward, panting as he enjoyed my oral service. In just a moment, he ejaculated into my mouth. He looked down at me, quickly pulled his penis back into his pants, and panted, "Come to my place after work."
When we got to his house, I realized it was his newly renovated apartment. He carried me straight to his wedding bed and told me I was the first woman to sleep in this bed. I never imagined I'd be a bride again.
That night, he wouldn't let me go home, taking me over and over, from head to toe, he made love to me everywhere. Later, I was the one taking him, clinging to him and not letting him sleep, until he cried out, "Good sister, please spare me." I asked, "Will you still dare to use those trashy excuses to be affectionate with me?" He repeatedly said, "No, no, I won't dare to bother you again."
The next day, I called my husband and told him that I had gotten rid of that fly, and he wouldn't dare to land on a cracked egg again.
Part 3: Oral Sex Tool
Sigh! I don't know what happened, maybe I was bewitched, but I actually worked as an oral sex tool for our boss for a whole year.
At the company's New Year's Eve party last year, my usually stern boss suddenly acted out of character. While dancing with me, he gripped my hand tightly, pinched my waist and buttocks, and pulled me into his arms. There were many people around, and I didn't want to make a scene and embarrass him. Besides, it was noisy, and I doubted anyone would notice his unusual behavior. Furthermore, he seemed like a nice person; perhaps his outburst was due to alcohol. In short, he harassed me that day, and I acquiesced to it.
After returning to work from the holiday, one day near the end of the workday, my boss suddenly called and asked me to come to his office. He didn't say anything, and I didn't ask anything either, so I took the elevator up to his office. Before leaving my office, I subconsciously took a mirror from my drawer and tidied my appearance.
When I arrived at his office, the door was open, and the secretary, who usually sat in the outer room, was nowhere to be seen. The inner door was ajar. Since my boss had called, I didn't wait for the secretary to return; I went directly to the ajar door and knocked lightly twice. Seeing no response from inside, I waited a few seconds, then pushed the door open slightly to peek inside. The large office was empty, the luxuriously decorated room exuding an air of authority and solemnity.
Just as I was about to close the door and retreat, I heard the boss's voice: "Come in and close the door." It turned out there was a suite inside the office, and the voice was coming from there. I followed his instructions and entered the room, then closed the door again. That door was automatic; once closed, it locked itself and couldn't be opened from the outside. I hesitated whether to go into the suite (the door was open) when I heard the boss say again, "Why don't you come in?"
I cautiously entered the suite; the thick carpet silenced my footsteps. In one corner of the room was a large double bed. I saw the boss sitting on a large leather sofa reading a book, without looking up at me. "Boss, I'm here. Is there anything I can do?" I asked softly, feeling a little resentful. Did the boss have to act so high and mighty? But I couldn't show any displeasure.
The boss looked up at me, put down his book, and stood up. "Hmm, you look even better today than the day you danced."
"Thank you, boss."
"Alright, I have something for you to do today. Listen to me, and if you're willing, do it; if not, go back to work and don't mention it again. If you're willing, consider it extra work, and I'll give you a raise. Are you willing?"
"I'm willing. But... what do you want me to do?"
"Heh, if I'm not mistaken, you should know what I want you to do, right? Otherwise, why did you say you were willing?"
The boss was indeed shrewd. Actually, I guessed he probably wanted to have sex with me. First, he called me personally today, instead of having his secretary do it; second, his secretary wasn't outside, and he was sitting in the suite with the double bed. If it was decorating work, he should have met me in his office outside. Fortunately, this boss wasn't unpleasant. He was a returnee from overseas, with a doctorate from a famous American university, a very knowledgeable and cultured man. It's just that he wasn't very tall, probably only slightly taller than me at 1.64 meters. He was about 20 years older than me, and although he was in his early fifties, he was in great shape.
"Last summer, I saw you and M in the stairwell..." the boss said.
I understood. I recalled hearing a slight creak of the stairwell door that day, which I initially thought was just the wind. I didn't say anything more, walked straight to the boss, knelt down, unzipped his pants, and pulled out his semi-erect penis. I hadn't expected that someone of his size would have such a magnificent penis, much larger than M's and my husband's. I grasped his still-limp penis, gently stroked it a few times, and then skillfully retracted the foreskin, licking the glans and urethral opening with my tongue, tasting the salty fluid seeping out.
The man's penis in my hand quickly swelled up, very thick, filling my palm completely, the huge glans glowing red, looking quite pleased with itself. I opened my mouth wide, trying to take as much as possible, but the huge glans already filled my mouth, so I could only swallow carefully, trying to avoid my teeth touching his tender flesh. Gradually, I grew accustomed to his size and began rhythmically stroking his penis with my lips and tongue, while my fingers gently probed and rubbed his scrotum and buttocks.
The boss stood stiffly, groaning softly, his lower abdomen heaving back and forth with my rhythm, seemingly trying to push his penis deeper into my mouth. After a while, he said in a hoarse voice, "Go to the bed and take off your clothes." With that, he pulled his penis out of my mouth and took out two vibrating dildos, one thick and one thin, from the nearby cabinet.
Following my boss's instructions, I stripped naked and knelt on the bed with my buttocks raised. He walked behind me and first inserted two fingers into my vagina, slowly moving them in and out a few times, seemingly checking the level of lubrication. Then, he inserted a finger, covered in my vaginal fluid, into my anus and moved it slightly. After that, he inserted two dildos into my vagina and anus respectively. He turned them on, and the two dildos immediately began to vibrate inside my body, sending waves of pleasure directly to my heart, making me tremble all over. A tingling sensation spread from deep within my vagina and rectum throughout my entire body, and I couldn't help but scream a few times.
Then, keeping in a bent-over position to prevent the dildos from falling out of my body, I helped my boss undress as well, helped him lie down on the bed, and then knelt on his lower abdomen to continue giving him oral sex. This time, my boss played with my breasts with one hand and grabbed my hair with the other, pulling my head up and down, pushing the penis as deep as possible into my mouth, the glans almost touching my throat. Fortunately, my husband loves deepthroating and often trains me in it; otherwise, I definitely would have vomited on his bed. Under such intense stimulation from both above and below, my body became increasingly aroused. I felt my juices flowing down my thighs onto the bed, and my knees, kneeling on the bed, seemed soaked.
Just as I was secretly admiring my husband's incredible endurance, he suddenly shuddered, pressed his hands tightly against my head, and forced his penis against my throat, ejaculating a large amount of semen into my throat. I didn't have time to swallow; much of the semen flowed down his lip and onto his pubic hair, scrotum, and groin.
When he finally released me, I quickly raised my head, hastily swallowed the last few drops of semen, and gasped for breath. Seeing the white, sticky semen on his stomach, I quickly knelt down again and eagerly licked the semen clinging to his lower abdomen with my tongue. Then, I lifted his legs and crawled into his cleft to lick the semen off his perineum and anus.
When I crawled out from under the boss, I saw him smiling at me. Seeing me look up at him, the boss became serious and asked, "What day is it today?"
"Thursday."
"Okay, from now on, come to my place before you leave work on Thursday afternoons, if I'm here."
"Okay." I knew the boss was telling me to leave, so I quickly took the two dildos out of my lower body, got dressed, and left his office dejectedly. In the outer room, the boss's secretary, Xiao Yao, was sitting behind the computer. When she saw me, she casually greeted me, "Sister Yuan is here?" I answered haphazardly and quickly left.
From then on, I had to go to the boss's office at least once a week to give him oral sex, sometimes twice a week. However, what puzzled me was that he never had actual intercourse with me, that is, he never inserted his penis into my vagina or anus. Did he mistake me for his Monica Lewinsky? Or was he afraid I'd get pregnant and cause him trouble? Who knows!
Part 4: Our Married Life
Before and after marriage, my husband and I maintained a very passionate sex life. This was partly thanks to his generous and magnanimous nature, and partly thanks to my skill in creating a seductive atmosphere.
I was 32, and he was 35, the peak of a man's and woman's sexual desire. Coupled with his constant interrogation of me about my infidelity in bed, we were often at the point of near-explosive sexual desire, so we were almost always immersed in passionate lovemaking.
One evening, after showering, I sat naked in my pajamas at the bedroom vanity, carefully applying face cream. Without turning around, I saw my husband naked in the mirror as he walked out of the bathroom. He was very proud of his tanned, strong, and tall body (he's 1.82 meters tall), so he frequently took the opportunity to show it off. I noticed his penis was erect.
Knowing I was staring at his naked body in the mirror, he lay proudly on the large bed opposite the dressing table, one hand gripping his penis, slowly stroking it up and down. He closed his eyes, enjoying himself, lost in thought, probably conjuring up some wicked ideas.
Every time I see my husband masturbating in front of me, I get excited; I feel myself quickly becoming wet.

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