BDSM Diary

BLACK PEARL

This is how it started. Through this personals advert on the FetLife site:

SUGAR WILL FATTEN YOUR PURSE...

I really think I’d like to support, financially, a willing female sub. I’m an experienced and imaginative Daddy Dom who loves playdates with particularly submissive submissives! I’m semi retired now, still very fit, but with the time and money to have a bit of extra fun. What do you think?

I had three responses. Two were from cross dressing men, which is absolutely fine lads, give it a crack. However I did specify that I wanted a female sub. Chaps, you may look like and act like female subs but you have cocks, which I’m not interested in. The third response came from a lady who was about six hours drive from me, which was, obviously, a challenging hurdle. However my interest was thoroughly piqued by her FetLife handle which included one photograph,a snap of a particularly long pair of fishnet clad black legs. Not made black by the black fishnets but black as in high melanin percentage, which leads to extreme pigment storage, which leads to extremely sexy shimmering, sleek and slinky dark skin. African skin. I’d never been with a black woman and, as she was also thirty years younger than me, the potentially off putting six hour drive suddenly felt like a walk to the corner shop.

On FetLife she called herself ‘BlackPearlGoddess’ and she defined herself as a ‘Submissive Masochist’ Her bio read, simply, ‘Fun, witty, sexy and beautiful cup of hot chocolate’ I couldn’t wait to get that mug to my lips, or was it her lips to my mug. The Black Pearl’s fetishes included clit spanking, clamps and clips, mistress/slave, belt spanking, whippings and pleasing my Sugar Daddy. There were more but that was easily enough to stir my white loins. Incredibly this phenomenal creature had applied to be my slut.

We starting communicating via FetLife DM’s and, initially, Black Pearl baulked at the long distance between us. As an act of goodwill, which had nothing to do with the rigid boner I got when I looked at her photos, I volunteered to drive the six hours, “Just for a coffee”, as I put it, “And if there’s no connection I’ll just get back in the car and drive home”. My commitment to the cause impressed Black Pearl so we arranged a day and a time to meet at a hotel in her home town.

Maybe I’d been blinded by the thought of taking my leather, Scottish made, fronded Tawse to her fine and firm black ass, but it was only on the drive down that it crossed my mind that Black Pearl might not exist at all. There are plenty of false profiles knocking about these days, maybe this was one of them. Or, perhaps, at the other end of those giraffe style pins, was a four headed gargoyle. Maybe I’m shallow but I did envisage those legs being attached to the head of a peak Whitney Houston. Looks are important after all.

It was a hell of a drive. Some motorway, but plenty of narrow and winding country roads. Her town was more of a village and the hotel looked like the one in Psycho. I could end up being stabbed to death through a shower curtain. I’m not into blood play so I didn’t fancy that.

I arrived at the hotel half expecting to see Anthony Perkins, in black and white, sitting at the front desk. The foyer was about as alluring as Donald Trump’s foreskin, dusty and dank. And then this sculpted vision, very much black and definitely not white, blew into the foyer. No doubt about it, this was Black Pearl. Tight top and a short skirt. Breasts pert and perfect and those legs, oh yes, those legs, extending from just below her earlobes to the centre of the earth.

She fixed me with an hypnotic flashing smile highlighted by perfect teeth and eyes that looked like melted toffee pools. I desperately tried to play it cool, but it’s tough to exude an icy exterior when your internal temperature is hotter than a Carolina Reaper chilli pepper.

We started to chat, with both of us spewing out words at warp factor rate. Black Pearl was just as nervous as me, thank God, but we got on really well.

We talked for a couple of hours, about all sorts of things. Black Pearl was clearly extremely smart and was, it turned out, a very well educated woman with a high profile career. On My FetLife profile I say, “I’m sapiosexual so a respectful connection is important for me” I could already feel the fuzzy bubbling of excitement within. Was this a sexual AND intellectual match?

Things moved super fast, she moved closer, “I’ve had a couple of Doms”, her sweet breath wafting softly, “But they disappointed me. I need a firm Daddy, one who will push me to me limits. You say you’re a sadist, but are you really?”

The lump in my throat was bigger than my largest anal plug and, as I tried to get some words past my parched tongue, she leaned forward and whispered, “Did you bring any of your stuff with you?”

Within minutes, with moist palms and an even moister undercarriage, I’d booked a room. The receptionist (not Anthony Perkins) had clearly seen it all before, and she rolled her tongue into her cheek with that, “I know exactly what you two horny fuckers are up to”, expression on her face.

Soon we were in Room 342 and I slipped into my Daddy Dom role surprisingly seamlessly, in spite of my nervousness. I knew I had to get into character straight away or my chance would be gone. I told her not to say a word and to follow my instructions to the letter, or else there would be serious consequences.

“Take your clothes off bitch, stand in the corner and face the wall”. Black Pearl did everything I requested with perfect obedience. I looked at her sensational buttocks, which were perfect half globes. She had the thighs of a sprinter, like Flo-Jo. I moved close to her and slipped on a red leather collar and chain, then cuffed her hands behind her back, and fixed in place a soft silk blindfold.

My hand dropped low and I lightly pressed one finger on the swollen ball between her labia, while sliding another into her moistness, “You’re wet. I don’t remember giving you permission to get aroused”. Goosebumps rippled across her flesh, and with a strange dusky hoarseness she said, “I’m sorry Daddy”. After a few seconds of silence I said, “You’ll pay for this transgression”.

Silently I lead her across the room, and then tossed her roughly onto the bed. I straddled Black Pearl and whispered in her ear, “You are mine now slut, all your holes belong to Daddy. I’m going to use and abuse you in whatever way I want. Whatever you think your boundaries are won’t exist by the time I’ve finished with you”. I do love the verbal aspects of BDSM control, such a kick, kinky theatre.

I fixed cuffs to her ankles and slid the attached chains under the bed. Now, face up, Black Pearl was pinned down and spread-eagled. We had met half an hour earlier and now here she was immobile and totally at the mercy of a perverted stranger, and loving it.

With a flogger I teased her flesh, running the black and red fronds across her body, her thighs tightened when I traced a line between her legs. Gentle flowing movements. A tickle before the torment, “I haven’t quite decided what to do with you yet, but I do know that you will suffer” Her goose bumps appeared again, like tiny barnacles on a boats hull. A thread that looked like dew on a spider’s web linked the lips of her labia. Black Pearl’s breathing deepened. I started to flick the flogger, whipping her with a continuous rolling motion, increasing the tempo and intensity. “I told you. You shouldn’t have allowed yourself to get wet without Daddy’s permission”. Her breathing was now interspersed with little bleating gasps.

Black Pearl was blind and prone. I fixed straps to her abundant and strong thighs. On the end of the straps were powerfully sprung pussy clamps. As I harnessed them in place she began to squirm and mutter quietly, “Daddy, Daddy” The clamps opened her pussy like a knifed mussel, stretching the lips wide and exposing her pulsing clitoris. Clothes pegs increased the sizzles of pain that now coursed through her cunt.

“Thirty minutes like this. I’ve started my stop watch, and stop whingeing and stay still. Any sign of complaint and I’ll extend the time”. Black Pearl’s head lolled from side to side but now her moans of, “Daddy, Daddy” were quieter, more restrained as she acquiesced to my demands. She stiffened again when she heard the noise of the wand which was now humming in my hand, “You’ll get your reward, if you’re a good girl”.

I moved the wand close to her clit but didn’t touch it. Black Pearl arched her hips as she stretched for the buzzing toy, her pussy desperate to find its vibration. The begging and pleading started, “Please Daddy, please Daddy” and soon her hips were gyrating in desperation, her clitoris hunting the glorious sensations. I lightly touched her clit with the wand, but only briefly, and then withdrew. I reprimanded her again for her indiscretions and repeated the process, applying various pressures and time frames.

Black Pearl was fast disappearing into an alternate universe due to the combined elixir of pain and pleasure. For the full thirty minutes sentence of pussy torture I had implemented Black Pearl strained and stretched and writhed and moaned as I took her to the verge of orgasm and then back again, away from the edge. Then I slowly removed the pussy clamps and clothes pegs. As blood rushed to the abused labia Black Pearl let out a shallow scream. I soothed the affected areas with my tongue, lapping slowly along the length of her labia, careful not to touch her clit. By now she was getting close to a crazed fervour, desperate for relief, her pleadings of “Daddy, Daddy” much louder now. Again I held the wand to her, by now, impossibly swollen clitoris, and whispered, “You’ve had your punishment, you can cum now slut”

Like a cowboy on a rodeo bull Black Pearl bucked and twisted and let out a low guttural howl as her entire being was consumed by a full body orgasm, “Oh... my... fucking... God”. Her mouth locked open and her head and neck arched backwards as a long loud breath, like a Gregorian chant, was rendered from the depths of her being. The full body orgasm was followed by a stream of smaller shudders and several spouts of squirt. Eventually she stilled, her body looked like a rag doll, sexually spent and satisfied.

I lay back on the bed and watched Black Pearl enjoy her post orgasmic nirvana while slowly undoing her restraints and, finally, the blindfold. Her eyes were half closed and glazed. She lay there for twenty minutes. We didn’t speak. Eventually Black Pearl rolled over onto my chest and put a long ebony arm around my chest. She smiled and said, “Thank you Daddy”

We lay there talking, but communicating on a level far past the usual, “How was that for you?” cliché. It was already apparent that this D/S relationship had the potential to develop way beyond the standard hormonally based kind of arrangement. Great kinky sex is like an addictive opiod, but to make it truly exceptional, in my opinion, the river needs to run deeper. The magic happens when you move beyond the superficial to the cerebral. The potential was definitely there.