Journey Into Submission

a bdsm love journal

Category: cock Page 1 of 8


“Tell me about your fantasy last night.”

I am between Michael’s legs, his cock in my mouth, my ass settled neatly down on my ankles. One hand is on the base of his cock, the other is pressed into the mattress to hold me up. I am ready for a lengthy cock sucking session and his demand throws me off balance.

I grunt belligerently in protest. He wraps his hand in my hair fiercely enough to yank my head up, my mouth off of his cock. I hover there, my tongue caressing the tip of his cock while I stall for time. I wrap my lips around the head and suck gently.

“Tell me.” He tightens his grip and I whine in dual protest. I open my eyes and my vision is filled with the sight of his cock and pelvis. My mouth waters but I know he wants words, not tongue.

“It was both of you, one of you fucking me, me sucking the other one’s cock,” I admit quietly. I can feel him getting harder in my hand.

“Which one was I?” he asks.

“It was very fluid… just snapshots. It kept changing,” I say. His cock moves away from the reach of my tongue, pressing up towards his belly, out of my hand.

“How were you positioned when this was happening?” he asks. He has to ask twice because I will not answer him. Each time he asks, my hair is pulled just a little tighter.

“Bent over something,” I mumble. I can see the images clear as day in my mind.

I am bent over something – a narrow counter, a railing of some sort, something a little taller than waist-high – completely naked, with one man in front of me with his cock in my mouth, the other behind me with his cock in my cunt. I am holding on to steady myself from their assaults, dripping and drooling while they have their way with me. Michael’s words are what make the scene come alive – the humiliation as he narrates how completely they are fucking me, the sluttiness of my behavior, the wanton whore come to life for him.

“What were you thinking about when you came?” He interrupts my replay of his imagined words with real ones.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” I start. He yanks my head up another half inch, his cock swelling even more. “I don’t fantasize when I’m coming. It goes away.”

“What was the hottest part of the fantasy for you?” he amends the question. My hand is clasped around the base of his cock and I slide my fingers gently upward. It doesn’t work to distract him and another grunt of protest earns me nothing more than a stern word.

“When both of you came at the same time,” I whisper, my lips against his cock. He sighs and presses my lips down around his cock. He is completely hard now, fully erect in my mouth. I see the climax of the fantasy again: Michael behind me, shoving his cock into my cunt as he comes, Owen in front of me leaning back as he comes in my mouth, the two of them groaning and gasping with the pleasure of having me.

Whoa… I need a minute to cool off.

Michael and Owen fucking me at once is a fantasy that had not occurred to me until sometime last week but now I can’t get it out of my head. The sheer overwhelming masculinity of the combination would surely make my knees weak as soon as I saw them together. Two cocks of their ilk together might just leave me incapacitated for a week. Thank goodness it’s just a fantasy.


Michael started out as he often does, stroking my body, admiring my skin with his hands and his tongue, moving me this way and that to suit his needs. Then he scooted off the bed and stood next to me. I was on my side of his bed, close enough to the edge that he could put one hand in my cunt and the other on my throat.

Which is exactly what he did. Two fingers, pulling gently. One hand, resting lightly. I came so many times my throat hurt from groaning and gasping and coughing. The bedspread, sheets, and blankets were soaking wet, as were his hand and my socks. I went from the automatic response of squirting from the pull of his fingers to bearing down, pushing, coming from the need of my body.

He slipped out of his shorts, freeing his cock just inches from my face, and I turned to take him into my mouth. Dreadfully afraid of biting him while he made me come again, I stopped moving and sucking.

“Suck that cock, pet, or I’ll find someone who will,” he insisted. I moaned into him and moved my mouth along his cock.

He let me please him for a few minutes then pulled away to find a towel.

“That’s a pretty big wet spot,” I said groggily as he spread the towel out under me.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re going to be sleeping up against me on my side anyway,” he ordered.

A few nights before I’d spent most of the night snuggled against him, draped over him, or somehow tucked around him, and he’d commented how comforting and soothing it had felt. It seemed that soaking my half of the bed with my come was his way of ensuring that I would not and could not get away from him tonight. He wanted me as close as I could possibly be and, to reinforce his preference, he’d made it all but impossible for me to disobey and still sleep comfortably.

“Yes, Sir,” I whispered, happy that he wants me as close as I want to be.

95 Things

I updated my 95 Things page.

I’ve already told the story of coming out to my brother.

I have not told the story of swallowing Michael’s come.

Oddly for me, I do not remember a vast number of details from the particular event. Perhaps because the actual moment has consumed so much of my attention, I don’t have very good recollection of the circumstances that led up to him coming in my mouth and me swallowing as naturally as if I had been doing it for years.

What I do remember is him being tired, stressed, and in that mood that drains his energy very quickly.

“I should send you home so you don’t have to put up with me tonight,” he’d said earlier when I caught him pacing in the living room.

“I want to be here,” I protested. “It doesn’t bother me and I want you to let me take care of you.”

Now we were laying in bed, both partially clothed, cuddling and talking. He lay on his back, his arm under my neck and his body loose and tired. I scooted up onto my knees and leaned over him for a series of long kisses and caresses. My hands were soft on his chest and arms and I let my breasts press warmly against him. I lay back down next to him, my hands still moving, and he pullled his cock out of his shorts.

My breath caught, as it always does at the sight of his cock, and I murmured my pleasure at having him in my hands. I caressed his cock gently for a few minutes, letting him relax and enjoy the sensations while I worked up the courage to take charge and be bold.

Michael has always let me be forward sexually. He wants me to kiss him, to hug him, to sit on his lap, to ask to be fucked or suck his cock, or even better, make it happen. He loves that I am voraciously sexual and that I find him utterly consumable, no matter what mood he might be in.

I flipped my hair over my shoulder, turned slightly, and took his cock into my mouth. He moaned softly at the unexpected touch and raised his hips in response to my tongue. I crawled over him and assumed my position between his legs, bent over to take as much of his cock into my mouth as possible.

“What is it that you want, little girl?” he asked as I started sliding my lips over his cock, letting my saliva slip out just enough to make everything smooth and warm. I didn’t answer for a few seconds, intent on making him feel good enough that he wouldn’t want me to stop.

“I just like doing this,” I murmured, my lips touching the tip of his cock, my tongue darting out to make tiny circles.

He tangled his fingers in my hair and let the weight of his hands press my head down gently. His cock slid into my throat and I floated on the thrill of not being able to breathe. He let me up to catch my breath and find my own rhythm. With my hands wrapped around the part of his cock that my lips cannot reach, I soon enticed him into thrusting his hips up into my mouth. His hands moved from my head to my shoulders, occasionally reaching down to pinch my nipples, always in contact with my body as I licked and sucked.

Within minutes his hands gripped my shoulders. I stopped moving, unsure whether he wanted to hold off or was coming. I felt his cock pulsing against my lips and tongues and tasted a faint saltiness deep in my throat. A bit of pre-cum coating my tongue, I thought absentmindedly and swallowed out of habit. That’s when I felt the warmth coating the back of my throat.

Michael was almost still as he came into my mouth. I swallowed three times, each time ingesting more of him, swallowing the warm fluid with what could have passed for practiced ease. Michael sighed and groaned as I worked my tongue around his cock, consuming the last little bit of his come. He laughed when he pulled me up onto his chest.

“That was part of my agenda as well,” I teased.

“It’s been a long time. A really long time,” he groaned.

“Thank you, Michael,” I whispered as I snuggled into him.

Used (Part Two)

“I was just getting to that,” he said. “Unless you can’t wait.”

I struggled to find my voice as he shoved his thigh into my cunt and dug his fingers into my hair.

“I can wait. A little while,” I said, grunting a bit between words.

With that he slipped away and went to fetch a condom and the lube. I played my part in the routine of donning the condom and applying lube (simultaneously sucking his cock and opening my legs for his fingers) but frowned in confusion when he pushed me out of my accustomed spot.

Michael grabbed the riding crop from the table and lay down on his back, legs and arms spread.

“Climb on up there where you belong, little girl,” he said.

I maneuvered myself on top of him, my hair cascading down around my face, and slipped his cock into my cunt.

Fucking, liberal application of the crop to my breasts and ass, and more fucking followed. I was already shallowly loose from the paddling and the pain felt superb interlaced with the orgasms and my control of his cock inside of me. I arched my back, planted my hands on his ribcage, let go of my fear of hurting him, and gave in to the sensations. When I leaned forward to catch my breath he grabbed a handful of hair.

“That’s my slut. Fuck me like you mean it,” he growled.

Another pin slipped into place and I fell a little deeper into subspace.

Michael shoved me off of him when it became evident that I was too worn out to do more than moan and lean on him weakly. I landed in a heap next to him and watched as he followed my trajectory with his own body. His cock was inside me again within seconds and this time the crop landed on the softness of my inner thighs.

I don’t remember exactly when the crop was tossed aside but I do remember his skin suddenly coming in contact with mine. From toe to cheek, he was touching me. I wrapped my legs around his, my arms around his, my body around his and sighed into him. I had asked for this earlier as well and he was making every effort not to disappoint me. For several long minutes he let me cling to him and float on my little cloud.

Just when I was relaxing my guard Michael sat up, pulled away, and manhandled me onto my side. He spooned up against me from behind and shoved his cock back in. I knew what was coming next but before I could get my hands up, his hand was wrapped around my throat. I grunted, ducked my chin and fought with everything I had.

“Give it up, pet,” he cajoled as I continued to try to get away.

I bucked back against him, my voice turning hoarse and panicky.

“No…no…no.” My fingers clawed at his forearm, that massive piece of muscle across my chest extending up toward my throat. His grip was not intense enough to block my air, just enough to terrify me with unknown feelings. I jammed my jaw down against his hand and moaned fiercely.

I came three times before he did. And then, while he was thrusting into me and growling his satisfaction into my neck, I came twice more. His hand loosened only when he was finally satisfied and even then it rested lightly on my chest.

Used (Part One)

For the first time in almost a year I ended an evening with Michael feeling well and truly used.

Now before you get all up in arms, I felt used in the very best way possible. I felt used as his slut, his toy, his Energizer Bunny of pleasure. I had requested, at separate times during the day, that he fuck me and hurt me. I didn’t really expect him to do both in one long sequence or for me to end up in a twitching, melting, crying puddle at the end but that is what happened.

It took me a while to figure out why I was having such a strong reaction to what seemed like a quiet evening of play and sex, but then I realized that the way in which we interacted made all the difference. Instead of just spanking and paddling me (my way of dealing with having to watch American Idol), he spanked, paddled, and finger fucked me until I was on the verge of tears from wanting to come so bad. Every time he stuck a finger in my cunt and tugged at my g spot I felt the release begin but then, just before I reached the edge, he yanked his finger away.

I think the real shift started when he used the handle of a crop to tease and fuck me. Inanimate objects stuck into sexual orifices has always been a fantasy of mine, played out in my mind since I can remember. Something about being lowered in status to deserving only the end of a crop or cane gets my juices flowing. I’ve never told Michael this… I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone, actually, but it still holds true.

When American Idol was done and I was panting from want of an orgasm, Michael pushed me off his lap and down between his legs. I watched in breathless anticipation as he leaned back, unzipped his pants, and pulled his (most magnificent) cock out for me to take into my mouth.

“Put your hand in your cunt. Make yourself come right now,” he ordered.

I did as he said, not surprised at how easy it was to create an orgasm with just a few strokes of my fingers across my clit. When he was satisfied that I had taken the edge off of my squirming need, Michael tucked his cock back into his shorts and pressed my cheek into his leg. He stroked my hair as I floated on the combination of paddling and sex, then pulled me into his lap.

“How are you, pet?” he murmured into my ear.

“Hmm… I’m doing fine,” I whispered back.

He let me sit there for perhaps ten minutes, snuggled and warm, before he signaled it was time to get up. I followed him to the bedroom, a bit unsteadily, and waited on the bed for him to finish preparing the house for the night. I turned to see what he was doing when I heard the faint thunk of an object being laid on the bedside table. The riding crop.

“You are eternally curious,” he remarked as he turned the music on.

“Yes, I guess I am,” I replied. “Been that way for a long time.”

He climbed into bed behind me, pushed me into the mattress, and divested me of my shirt in short order. I lay sprawled wide writhing from his bites and kisses on my back. When I reached the pinnacle of desire I looked back over my shoulder at him.

“Michael, will you please fuck me?” I asked.

“I was just getting to that,” he replied…

(To be continued…)

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