BDSM Diary

The Black Thruster

So I was in the gym and noticed a girl I hadn’t seen before sitting on the floor doing some yoga stretches. There was one move in particular she did that I knew. It was for stretching the back after injury. An opportunity, I thought, to talk to her. There were two straps hanging from the ceiling close to where she was doing her thing. I use them a lot to loosen my chest and neck muscles. There I was puffing out my pecs a few feet from her spot on a mat. I just asked her, “Do you have a bad back? You do some of the stretches I do for mine” Yes, I know, a pathetic attempt at a chat up line, but it worked.

My goodness, off she went. Talked and talked and talked, all in a very friendly and personable way, her words flowing like a tsunami and within minutes I knew her injury history (horrific) the state of her mental health (bi-polar) and her single status (her partner had died two years previously)

The energy between us was instant. Not an attraction as such, more of a subconscious knowledge that we were both deeply kinky. No words on the subject were needed. The fizz crackled on unseen wires. She told me her name was Susan but that friends called her Jelly Bean. Sometimes the clitoris is called a jelly bean. Was this code? Or was it really her nickname?

After our information super highway exchange I went back to my weights session but I absolutely knew that a chemistry was bubbling. This sort of thing had also happened a few weeks previously in a queue for a flight to Cardiff at Belfast City Airport. A young and lovely looking redhead in front of me turned and asked if she was in the right place for rows 10 to 18. As soon as we locked eyes that same energy was there. An invisible but charged and horny gut feeling that sometimes happens when the kink wavelength is right. We were actually sitting in the same row (18) and chatted through the whole flight. For a while about a novel I had written. Kink was never mentioned but it didn’t have to be. When we landed she gave me her email address. Bookbinding was a hobby and we’d had an idea that a bespoke bound copy of my novel would be a nice thing to have. I emailed her a few days later. She never replied. Maybe she just didn’t want to go there. Maybe she had a partner and didn’t want to unleash potential complications.

But the same feeling that I had on the flight to Wales also washed through the gym on the day I met Susan.

JELLYBEAN - SECOND MEETING

A few days later I was back at the health club and I knew she’d be there before I walked in. I felt it. We manoeuvred towards each other and, almost immediately, Susan said, “I like to dominate men” My response was, “I’m a dominant, a BDSM Master, a sadist and I have a few submissives I play with...but I’d quite like to try switching to see what it was like.” The conversation was in the matter of fact style that two people might adopt when discussing an episode of Countryfile. Right in the middle of the gym and within earshot of a young guy doing some cable work. Fortunately he was wearing headphones.

We walked from the gym to the nearby Costa openly talking about kinks and sexual desires. IN THE QUEUE at Costa Susan said, “How big are you? 10 inches?” ... “Er....No. About 7” I replied. “Oh that’s fine. My favourite dildo is 10. I can get it all in but I have to spend quite a while stretching out my cunt first.” It was clear that this was going to be a very kinky liason. I was sure I could sense her moistness. Susan told me she didn’t drive and could I take her to the local surgery to get a prescription. During the trip she divulged that she was a multi orgasmic squirter with an exceptionally high sex drive caused, she thought, by the meds she was on for her bi-polar.

We got the prescription and I took Susan to a chemist. She came out, back into the car, looked at me and said, “Would you like to see me cum? With no hands.” I nodded, wide eyed. Susan then started rubbing her crotch on my upholstered passenger seat and came not once, but twice, and then looked at me, laughed and said, “When are you free for a bit of fun?”

JELLYBEAN - THIRD MEETING

I booked a hotel. A nice suite and arrived early to make sure that all my toys had been unloaded in places accessible to me during play. I drove back to the gym where we had arranged to meet. Susan, who didn’t drive, was sitting in the corner of the coffee area with a blank expression on her face. “I’m in a dip. The bi-polar. Not feeling too good,” she said. “Do you still want to play?” was my response. Susan said, “It might make me feel better.” We drove to the hotel talking about kink and how we were going to navigate the fact that we were both Dommes. Susan was remarkably tiny and I couldn’t wait to see how a very frail looking 6 stone girl was going to suddenly transform into a cold eyed mistress like a butterfly from a chrysalis, or maybe cobra from a snakeskin would be a more appropriate analogy.

“I don’t like pain,” she said, “So you’ll have to play Daddy in a different way.” This was no problem to me because I love using the English language in ever more inventive ways to dominate and mind fuck. A true kink of mine, yet to be realised, is to see a woman cum purely through me whispering in her ear.

I played with Susan while I talked and soon a calm fixed glaze had spread like melted toffee across her eyes. Her mouth was slightly open and she was unblinking as she stared at me, captured in a linguistically created soft form of subspace. Under what was a by now a quite hypnotic state Susan did what she was told moving between sucking and fucking me and, on demand, masturbating herself. I didn’t allow Susan to fuck me for very long and there were shrill and frequent demands to “Get off. You’ve covered Daddy’s clean cock in your dirty pussy juices. How dare you. Did I give you permission to do that? Lick Daddy’s cock clean.” Susan did this hungrily and the on/off orders had the desired effect of driving her close to insanity with lust.

This was a girl who, she told me, hadn’t fucked flesh for over two years. The only things that had invaded her extremely tight and tiny pussy were her own fingers and her large collection of toys. I was amazed that the ears on her rabbit hadn’t actually worn away through overuse (would it then have been deaf?) Susan told me that the rabbit had an extremely high mileage and if sex toys needed MOT’s this was certainly one of them. It had possibly done hundreds of hours in a dank and messy place.

We had agreed that Susan would Dominate me in the way that she preferred and I could see and sense the excitement rippling through her body as she spanked and beat me with my own belt and tawse. The force was remarkable from someone so slight. I had underestimated her strength, which was perhaps enhanced by her long term absence from the endorphin fuelled world of kink, in the way in which a woman’s power can become superhuman if her child’s pram is trapped under the wheels of a car. My buttocks were taking a merciless pounding and while it’s not my thing I was really enjoying how much this fired Susan into a state of focused excitement.

And not only that. When Susan got a hold of my cock for some manual stimulation it felt as if she was wringing the neck of an ostrich. Most women, in my experience, don’t take a firm enough hold of a man’s member but this was the ultimate death grip. Did she think she was trying to unblock a toilet? I thought she might detach my penis from my testicles...but God it felt good.

Then Susan revealed a kink that I’d heard of but had never experienced. She wanted to “trample” me and asked me if she could stand on my chest. I held her hands and we balanced on the bed like an act from Cirque De Soleil. Our arms were fully extended with palms locked and fingers intertwined. Susan’s tiny feet were on my chest. And then she started gently bouncing. I was a little concerned because I wear a pacemaker. If she landed on that she’d have had quite a job explaining cause of death to the police, the coroner and, rather embarrassingly, my family.

I watched her face as she trampolined with deliberate movements up and down using my pectorals as her springboard. The focus in her eyes was, again, remarkable and my own eyes narrowed as I realised Susan was going to cum and, my God, it was a shuddering, quivering orgasm. She wanted to keep trampling but I stopped her. It would have been difficult to explain the footprints on my chest to my cardiologist. I had an upcoming hospital review booked. I wondered if should I say to my heart specialist, “Is it okay for my kinky friend to jump up and down on my ribcage? It isn’t for long because she usually cums after a few minutes.” I imagined the quizzical look on his face, “Jump on your ribcage you say. Let me check the manual for heart disease. Do’s and don’ts.”

We got back to some hard, old fashioned fucking, but now Susan had introduced an additional element. She was still bouncing but had exchanged her feet for her vagina. Susan’s rhythm was ferocious, “Can I hit you while I fuck you?” she panted, sweat glistening on her pretty face. So Susan fucked while hitting me with with an open hand on every part of my body she could reach. Another orgasm wasn’t far away and she bucked and yelped as the glorious tremor coursed through her.

I have mentioned that Susan had an injury history. Well this included quite serious hip problems and she told me that, sometimes, her hips would dislocate during sex. No, I am not making this up. “Especially when I’m doing it doggy style,” Susan explained. I garbled out something intelligent like, “What the fuck,” and then it happened. A hip dislocation during doggy. I had actually tried to thrust with care and, while driving in and out of her, I purposely restrained myself. It had the effect of delaying my usually fast and furious journey to orgasm in this position. There was a weird clicking noise and out it popped. Her hip, not my cock. I think she barked. Susan quickly pulled away, leaving me with my knees on the bed staring at my now neglected rock hard member. It sat there, bouncing (word of the day!) wet and exposed. Breezily Susan announced, “I’ll just be a moment,” and then went through a series of complicated looking exercises, using the mini bar as a support, to ease the hip back into its socket. This was a wonderfully horny spectator sport, as Susan, naked, twisted her gorgeous taught body into several positions that should have been added, right there and then, either to the Kama Sutra or Pornhub.

Soon I was back in her more slippery socket, grinding my way to gooey glory. For the grand climax I made her lie face down on the bed and spread her ass cheeks as wide as she could with both hands. Susan managed a remarkable stretch. I do love a woman in this position, totally prone beneath me. Soon I was spurting, Vesuvius like, all over her sensational butt, anus and pulsing pussy. For a first playdate it had been rather eventful.

THE ABUSE OF JELLYBEAN

Aftercare is so critical even after a session like the one I’ve just described. Really it was just gentle cohesion. A “first date” introduction to each other. I’m a great believer in the organic growth of a BDSM style relationship. When such intensity is involved I don’t think the “one night stand” kind of philosophy works very well. Like a twisting vine you need to slowly find your way in a BDSM union – work each other out as people and, in tandem, your needs and desires from a kink perspective. Where you can go, where you might want to go, where you can’t go, and where the other person might let you go. All under the umbrella of consent and trust. When you feel safe and heard then the real fireworks explode. I have found that in a truly successful D/S partnership you can end up in an almost telepathic state where there is a true knowing and respect. Then you can really explore each other and your fantasies. In that space almost anything is possible.

I love that soft and fuzzy feeling after a hot and satisfying play date when you know that you’ve worked in fetish fuelled harmony with a likeminded partner. Even better if your connection stretches beyond the sexual and the bond includes other key aspects of successful human connection – like a shared sense of humour. I find that I like to sit in silence for a while, hopefully with my play partner cuddling into my chest, and wallow in the sea of endorphins that are often associated with a powerful sexual union.

And then to talk. About anything really, but usually a good time to chat about (states the bleeding obvious) what just happened. What you loved, what you want to do less or more of. How you can evolve, or maybe take the opportunity to reveal a little more about yourself to increase understanding.

Kinks and fetishes are often connected to past experiences and often abuse. This is hardly breaking news as there has been a lot written and talked about this aspect but I have my own views from my own experiences and the experiences of others who have been open with me about their own pathways to kink. I’ll write about this subject in depth in a future blog.

Susan (Jellybean) talked frankly after our first play date and told me a harrowing story about her own abusive past. She had been gang raped at a party by five older teenagers when she was 17. An horrific experience causing dark and deep damage. I suspect you have already worked out why Susan liked to beat men, abuse their cocks and trample on them. It was revenge in a BDSM space where she felt safe and seen. Like most people I always find these personal revelations intensely emotional. The respect for someone who has had to battle those internalised demons for so much of their life and how they have expressed and washed out some of that pain through kink. Sounds simple but I know from my own history of sexual abuse that it is an extremely complicated psychology.

Susan, in her vanilla world, is a soft and empathetic person but when she enters a kink environment the sadistic Mistress finds her wings. We have been texting since that first date and Susan has told me how she wants, from her fetish perspective, to develop our relationship. I sense that there will be more exciting and revealing days ahead.

JELLYBEAN - FOURTH MEETING – THE MASSAGE

Now things really got interesting. It turned out that 56 year old Susan still lived with her parents. One particular problem was her nervousness about using her sex toys at home. You see Susan’s and her parents’ bedroom was separated by an, anything but, soundproofed wall of plasterboard. Susan rustled about in her sizeable goody bag which was on the floor beside my bed. Out came a number of items including a pink “Clit Hugger” and a long curving thing that looked like a rubberised baseball bat.

“I love my Black Thruster”, said Susan who claimed to have “about a hundred” toys of this nature, which she would buy while on her bi-polar, mania charged, spending sprees. Apparently the shares in Ann Summers rocketed every time Susan was spotted on the bus near the High Street.

Susan gave me a demonstration, and, as watching a woman masturbate from close range is (apart from rugby) my favourite spectator sport, I settled back, grasped my meaty manhood, opened the popcorn, gazed with goggling eyes and waited for the curtains to open (literally I suppose!)

Susan, all 96 pounds of her, has a remarkably petite, extremely beautiful pussy. The Black Thruster looked like a concrete busting Jack Hammer in her small hands, and while I could just about imagine my little finger crossing her fleshy domain, I definitely couldn’t see the sex toy version of the Empire State Building making much progress. But Susan is a determined young lady and, with dextrous use of the wide range of controls on the upper shaft, she began to put the toy to work. It was clear that Black Thruster had been born for this job. It had many vibration settings but also, thanks to a cunning design that Isambard Kingdom Brunel would have been proud of, it had a cock moulded upper half that did indeed thrust, and not just in a straight line, but with a boomerang shaped upward motion which allowed Thruster to engage with Susan’s G spot.

Susan writhed while pleasure, waves coursed through her pussy, and over her clit and G spot, which were all simultaneously stimulated. Meanwhile I endured a creeping disconcerted feeling, “Why do women even need us these days? The toys do it all. Is that all I am? A bag of sperm?”

Susan was cumming, and cumming from a long way back, and cumming hard. Her eyes glazed and locked on mine. She looked slightly startled. The build up was slow and was coming from somewhere far away, possibly Katmandu. Her orgasm began with a rumbling sound in her throat, like the low growl of a well fed bear. Then it built and soon a Japanese Bullet Train was heading right at me.

Susan’s eyelids looked as if they’d been stitched to her eyebrows, and she began to shudder. This was no ordinary shake, rock n’roll, this could easily have registered on the Richter Scale, and possibly was. The shaking lasted a considerable time. Had someone connected her legs to the mains? Susan enjoyed pure bliss and, while I was happy for her, I couldn’t help thinking, “What is the point of men?”

Susan needed a little recovery time after her earth moving moment, so I made her a cup of tea. For a psychopath, I’m quite a nice person. We sat on the bed sipping at our Yorkshire Gold. It was then that Susan started to list, in full, her afflictions and ailments. I already knew about her Bi-Polar, back problems and a few other things she’d mentioned in our initial, rather strange and up front chats.

Maybe I should have worked it out when Susan said to me, at our second casual meeting, in front of other gym users, that she liked, “To dominate men”. Usually at that point in a fledging friendship you haven’t got past the, “Isn’t the weather shocking?” kind of small talk but Susan had moved quickly onto sex speak. “I think I’ve got some form of Tourette’s Syndrome” This condition ran in conjunction with her self dislocating hips and shoulders, her various rashes, deafness in one ear, a cataract, vertigo and then...just as I was digesting the Tourette’s announcement Susan said, “Oh and no shagging tonight. I’ve got a UTI and cystitis. I really shouldn’t have used Black Thruster. It’ll probably make it worse.”

This wasn’t going to be the night I’d hoped for but, anyway, back to the Tourette’s. I asked, “So when you said to me that you liked to dominate men, was that your Tourette’s in action?” Susan looked at me, “Yes it was but it can be much worse. In the gym this morning I was went up a man and said, “I love big fat cocks” I spluttered my Yorkshire Gold onto my own big fat cock. I suspect that Susan was on a spectrum, maybe a spectrum that hadn’t been invented yet, but no shame in that. We all have our mental glitches. However I was now thinking, ‘Do I really want to let this Dominant tie me up and beat me?’

The thought of what Susan might do actually excited me so I let her bind me, spread-eagled on my front. The beating was mostly with her hand and she added a riding crop to the mix. Not too bad. Susan turned me over and did her jumpy up and down thing on my chest with the inevitable result. An orgasm. From bouncing. How is that even possible? Some kinks I will never understand, but each to their own. Every kink or fetish is to be respected.

“Sex wise, what did you do with your ex-partner?” I asked. This was a man she had been with for 18 years, and who had sadly passed away two years previously. I secretly prayed that his death had not been under suspicious circumstances and tried to wash away the vision in my mind of Susan jumping on his rib cage until it shattered sending his un-tethered heart spiralling across the room.

“Oh he adored being whipped, and whipped really hard. We both loved the cat-o-nine-tails”, Susan paused, and I felt my bowels tightening, “With metal tips. Stripped away his flesh. There wasn’t that much blood.” I was still tied up as she announced this little detail and my balls curdled. Fortunately for me, a wimp submissive who is most definitely not slave material, Susan took it easy. Underneath her mania, paranoia, Tourette’s and hypochondria Susan is an extremely good person with a heart of gold. Lucky that, or I could have been butchered, in a fun way.

As I’d predicted this wasn’t a great night for me. Because of the cystitis Susan needed very regular breaks to pee. This would have been great if we’d been into water sports, but we’re not. Another dampening effect (pun intended) was Susan calling from the bathroom, “Do you have any wipes?” and “How does this toilet flush?” My cock oscillated between hard, semi and super ‘no-way-back’ soft. Susan also had a butterfly mind, her thoughts oscillating quickly between one thing and another. Susan would be sucking my cock (an excellent practitioner) and would then suddenly bob her head up and say, “Do you like horror movies? You know the one’s from the 80’s like Poltergeist and The Evil Dead? I replied, “No but I’m very fond of that short film, ‘ Suck my cock and empty my balls you bitch’ with Johnny Depp”

That night there’d be no orgasm for me, however Susan managed multiples with her various techniques which included sitting on my face, flooding it with squirt, and rubbing herself to climax on my kneecap.

I dropped her home. Within minutes there was a text. I kind of expected it to read, “I love big fat cocks”, but instead it said, simply, “I’m still horny”