… last Wednesday night, I dominated the living hell out of my poor hubby and I don’t think he’s quite recovered yet. And to think this all happened on Christmas Eve, after a lovely candlelight church service. But more on that in a minute.
I appreciate all the e-mails from my blog readers, wishing me a Merry Christmas and a Happy Holiday and some begging me to come back to blogging on a regular basis. I realize some of you live your femdom fantasies through me and my hubby’s lifestyle, and I’m flattered, but really we’ve had a very vanilla holiday season. To be perfectly frank, sex and D/s have been almost non-existent.
I really got into the holidays this year, decorating the house, making cookies, eating way too much food and I even volunteered at a local church that made up shoe boxes of toys and goodies to send to children around the world. And we’ve been spending time with family. So there really hasn’t been much in the way of femdom to blog about.
However, there was Christmas Eve. I don’t know what got into me other than it had to be my repressed sexual drive and my bottled-up dominant energy needing release. We attended a most pleasant church service with my hubby’s family and then James and I came home, just the two of us, and exchanged gifts. One of his gifts to me was a pair of knee high stiletto heel leather boots that lace up in the back with a zipper on the side. Very sexy!
I wasn’t really in the mood for a femdom session on Christmas Eve, but James practically begged me to try them on, and he of course assisted me, lacing them up. Seeing my hubby on his knees, lacing up my new boots sparked something within me. It had been too long.
I told hubby to wait a minute, and I went into the bedroom and opened my toy box and decided to dress up. I put on my custom fit leather pants and my new leather corset. I added my opera gloves and my new boots. I grabbed a riding crop and it was time to give hubby a special Christmas gift.
I appeared in the doorway decked in all leather and invited him into my bedroom. He was back on his knees in no time, licking my leather pants, licking my new boots, planting kisses and licking as if the leather were food and he was starving. In a way, he was starving. He was starving for domination, and I was starving, to dominate him. And boy did I ever dominate him.
I should have written about this the next day, while it was all so fresh in my mind, but it was Christmas and the next several days were busy. Today is the first chance I had to write about this. So without giving you a complete blow by blow (pun intended) let me give you a summary.
After he worshipped my leather clad body, I tied hubby face down to my bed and used the riding crop on his eager ass. And just not the riding crop. My toy chest was open so all of my implements were accessible. I went from crop to flogger to cat to paddle to tawse to strap to cane. Hubby’s ass was as red as a candy cane when I was done and he went from being excited to whimpering to begging for mercy. I of course stopped, but not until he uttered his safe word. It has been such a long time since he had used his safe word during a session, so long that I forgot what it was. But when he screamed out “Monday!!!” I knew he couldn’t take any more.
But I wasn’t done, no indeed, I was very wet. I got my strap-on harness, and lubricated a moderate sized dildo and climbed on top of hubby’s striped and bruised ass and gave him a fucking he will not soon forget. I grabbed him around the waist and pulled him toward me, plunging the dildo deep inside and I had all of this energy, and I spent most of that energy slamming the dildo in and out with a violent aggression I have not experienced in some time. Like I said, I had all of this dominant energy bottled up and it came rushing out of me. I even pulled his hair while I was taking him with my strap-on and I was scratching his back with my nails, I scratched his back so hard that it was actually bleeding in spots. I can’t remember the last time I’ve done that.
I eventually got tired so I untied James and had him roll over. You should have seen his face. He looked like a man who just had his virginity taken from him without consent. He had a dazed expression, one of pleasure and fear. He couldn’t believe I was that rough on him.
I removed my boots and my pants and I climbed on his face and grinded against his nose and his mouth, sitting on his face, until he licked me to orgasm. It didn’t take long, I was that excited, but I wanted more, so I had him get up and I took his place on the bed, and he went between my legs and licked me and sucked my clit for a good ten minutes until I had a second orgasm.
I decided to give him one final Christmas gift. It had been almost two months since his last sanctioned orgasm (that I know about) so I gave him permission to fetch the key and unlock his chastity device. I knew he was in the mood to worship boots, but I didn’t want him to soil my new pair, so I had him fetch the older thigh high pair from my trunk and he put them on me. I sat on the edge of the bed and I ordered him to hump the boots like a dog. He rubbed his erect penis against the soft leather and it took him longer than I would have expected but he finally climaxed all over the boot that adorned my right leg. I ordered him to lick up his mess, which he did, a bit reluctantly at first, but he was a good boy and gave the boot a thorough cleaning with his tongue.
The night had a real effect on James. He licked so much leather (and pussy) that he had a blister on his tongue the next morning. He was in subspace for days and the whip marks have yet to totally fade, although they’re almost gone. I had to laugh when we went out for Christmas dinner. James kept squirming in the chair, shifting around due to the marks on his still sore behind. He told family his back was bothering him.
Other than that one crazy night, we have been living a rather traditional, vanilla life as of late. Maybe in the new year we will get back into more femdom play. You just never know. And he never knows when the mood to dominant him might strike me again.