Just Another Day - Part I
Posted 08 April 2008
In some forthcoming posts I plan to familiarise you with the most significant events of the past fifteen months or so. After reading my previous entry you now know that I'm living a self-indulgent lifestyle that is perfectly suited to fulfilling my desires and ambitions, but I don't think I've in any way undermined the anticipation you will receive as you read how things developed to where they are today. You have yet to meet the most important new actors in my life and appreciate the interplay of relationships that has made the past year so memorable and exciting for me.
Those updates are going to be complex and lengthy, of that I'm sure, and before I embark on that task I've decided to put up this more basic post (I've actually decided to split it), one in which I try to give you a feel for the general timeline of a single day in my life. I felt it was worth doing this now in case I go offline again before my diary is brought fully up to date. It doesn't reveal much that will meaningfully spoil your enjoyment of upcoming entries, and apart from one particular scenario there's little I'm doing here that I wasn't doing when I was online last year. The difference is that I'm now living my life like this on a daily basis rather than intermittently. I want you to get an idea of how I fill the hours on weekdays.
[Note: I did indeed go offline before bringing my diary up to date, but you have now been given the missing details in my special March 2008 posts.]
The post is entitled 'Just Another Day', but you need to understand that I don't have a typical routine as such any more. Apart from prearranged appointments, I often have no idea what I'm going to be doing on any particular day and events often unfold in whatever direction my mood takes me. Here I obviously knew what I was going to do and I deliberately picked a day when I had two visitors scheduled, but nevertheless I really did try to stick to things that I consider everyday actions for me. Nothing momentous happened this day, nothing unusual - no highly planned special video shoots, no multiple partners etc. - and apart from a visit to see my boyfriend in the evening I most definitely didn't do anything just to spice up the post.
I've also tried within the narrative to faithfully recapture not only the events of this day but also my general thought processes. Obviously I can't recall everything that went through my head, but what I hope you'll get from all this is an appreciation of how driven I am by sex at most times. My imaginings may seem debased or even ridiculous to you, but I very rarely experience any guilt or shame over the fantasies that constantly excite me. I also have to stress once again that I don't ever tire of having these thoughts, and in the evenings I'm often ready and eager for more sex despite indulging myself fully during the day.
I wouldn't be in the least surprised if by the end of reading this you'll be thinking: Is that it? Doesn't seem that wild to me. That's the whole point though - it's not that wild, until you consider that these are the sorts of things I do to fill my time day after day after day. It never bores me, and every morning as I tighten myself into a leather corset or slide stockings on to my legs I get that same delicious thrill of expectation. To many it may seem like a rather pointless and shallow existence, but I really couldn't give a damn. I just love being turned on, and that's all I need from life.
So here we go, just another day for the ever-decadent Maria.
7.32am I'm already half awake and as usual I can hear Martin getting ready for work. After just lying there for a few minutes I remember that I'm going to be documenting this day in an online diary post. That should be fun, although I find myself wondering just how interesting the end result will be. Maybe I should have chosen a day with a more dramatic agenda. Oh well, if I don't like the end result I can just bin it. It certainly wouldn't be the first time.
I'm not wearing any panties, but all night I've slept in a black leather suspender belt and stockings, and also a black moulded peephole rubber bra (far more comfortable to sleep in than a wired one, although that's not really a consideration). Wearing clothing like this in bed makes me feel far sexier, and if I wake during the night I like to rub my hands along my nylons and finger the suspender clasps, working my hands up towards my vagina. I won't start masturbating, but I will push my fingers gently inside myself, giving me a warm feeling of comfort as I drift back off to sleep.
I rub my hands for a short while over the latex bra, enjoying the feel of the shiny rubber. Occasionally I'll suddenly shiver as I touch myself in a particularly sensitive place, especially when my fingers glance against one of my exposed nipples. Then I move lower down and feel the leather of the garter belt. It's so incredibly smooth, with none of the roughness that you get from cheap hides. Just beautiful to touch.
I slide my hand to my pussy, but I only touch lightly. These days I avoid playing with myself too much in the early morning - I like the excitement of dressing in preparation for my first climax of the day. I will deliberately use this self-denial to work myself into a state where I'm almost beside myself with passion as I approach release, and as a consequence that initial orgasm is almost always a multiple one, or rather what seems like an endless wave of shattering pleasure that leaves me temporarily exhausted and immobile.
This self-restraint doesn't stop me from reaching for the long black rubber dildo that has been within reach all night. I pull it up to my face, close my eyes, and draw the long smooth shaft along my cheek. Then I kiss and worship it, doing my best to follow the realistic raised veins with my tongue as I retrace my way along its full length. This is a daily ritual, something I love to do because it symbolises so perfectly my obsession with oversized pricks. Every day of my life the same thought enters my head as I stretch my mouth open wide and finally close my lips around that incredible glistening head: I want a real cock this big inside me one day.
7.45am I hear Martin walking along the landing, then going down the stairs. Five minutes later he returns upstairs with a cup of tea for me (how terribly quaint that sounds, doesn't it?). He always gives me a bright smile as he says good morning and where possible I do my best to reciprocate, although quite often I'm already too busy making love to my dildo to pay him all that much attention. In any case, I know he likes me to ignore him as I greedily suck away at the thirteen-inch phallus - it's his first cuckolding of the day.
8.05am I get out of bed. I will normally lie there for anything between fifteen and forty-five minutes, depending on what I'm planning to do for the day. Just as I'm getting up Martin comes into the room once more. On days when he's working he always comes back up to see me before he leaves to ask if I need anything. This is not an option but a requirement, and it's my opportunity to give him any instructions for the day and also to goad him with my matter-of-fact asides as to what I might be doing later. Now that I've finished work he no longer watches me dressing in the morning, although there are plenty of other opportunities during the week where he gets to see me preparing myself for other men. I have also stopped punishing him physically in the mornings - I get too turned on doing it and in any case I quite frequently have someone other than my husband at my home during the day to satisfy my sadistic urges.
Today Martin gets away scot-free, but this isn't usually the case. There will often be some humiliation for him to perform for my amusement before he leaves, usually some legacy from my adventures the night before. It may be something as simple as disposing of a used condom or licking some dried semen off my rubber, but others are of a less transient nature. Locking him into a chastity device for the day is one of the most common, and on occasions he'll be made to wear some of my underwear along with it. Indeed one of the reasons I now sometimes wear satin or silk panties in the evenings when I'm seeing my boyfriend is so that I can make Martin wear them to work the following day in their still-damp, cum-soiled state. If you're a man you should maybe think about that for a moment: what it would be like to have to conduct a business meeting at your office while wearing a pair of lacy ladies briefs - panties which only a few hours before were still filling with the semen that was leaking out of your wife's heavily stretched pussy as she walked to her car after being fully satisfied by a sensational prick with twice the girth of your own.
8.12am It's a little chilly in the house and I've just put on a plain black sweater. I don't like the central heating on too high during the day, even if it's cold outside. If I'm all dressed up in rubber and leather it can become unbearably hot at times, and so I like the house to be cool.
As I ease my feet into some five-inch heeled black courts I hear the front door being unlocked downstairs, and a few seconds later it closes. Then Martin's car starts and the sound of his tyres crunching the small stones on the driveway gradually recedes as he makes his way to the front gate. There's a sudden burst of power and acceleration, and he's gone. Maria is alone in the house, and that's exactly how she likes it.
I put on some plain PVC panties, the first ones I pick out of my drawer. I won't be wearing them later, but they'll do until I get properly dressed.
8.15am I go downstairs to the kitchen. The way I'm now dressed is very typical of my everyday house wear when I'm not seeing someone or shooting some video scenes: fetish bra, briefs and garter belt (or corset), stockings, high-heeled shoes or boots, plain sweater or cardigan. Very often I'll also be wearing an extremely tight rubber or PVC microskirt. I feel comfortable, relaxed, and sexy (and however strange it may seem to you, I would feel extremely uncomfortable if I didn't have any stilettos on). I'm carrying my black riding crop in one hand, and this usually travels everywhere with me when I'm doing nothing in particular. It's an unconscious appendage, although I'm sure I'd miss it instantly if I mislaid it. I don't hold it all the time but instead just let it hang from my wrist by the strap.
What if someone unexpectedly comes to the house? It happens, but I normally get plenty of warning because of the noise on the driveway. I won't answer the door if someone I know arrives out of the blue, but if it's something like a parcel delivery that has to be signed for then I'm not afraid to show myself dressed as I am right now. I get a real kick out of doing it too - seeing the embarrassment of the driver as I stand there openly in suspenders and stockings. I usually apologise coyly for my state of undress: "You'll have to excuse me looking like this - you caught me while I was dressing for work". I'm willing to bet that in most cases the guy has a smile on his face for the rest of the day.
I expect someone has come to the door before and I've been unable to hear them because I'm writhing around on the floor with a couple of rubber cocks buzzing inside me. Quite frankly I love the thought that someone outside has overheard me vociferously moaning as I climax in such a state, and it doesn't bother me in the least what they might think. I also like the idea that someone has heard me while I'm being screwed by a guest. My mother hasn't visited us for years, but I do fantasise about her arriving unannounced one afternoon and standing at the doorway hearing me yelling: "Ah, yes, give me more... fuck me. Fuck me! Yes, FUCK ME!!" ...and then she turns round to find Martin coming up the driveway in his car.
8.25am I've made another cup of tea and grabbed a couple of pieces of toast, and now I'm in the study waiting for the computer to finish booting up. I normally spend around an hour or so on the Web first thing in the morning. I read the main news stories and then catch up on the financial markets, something I'm very interested in even though my career has ended. Certainly I've been fascinated with the developments in the banking sector as the credit crunch has gone from bad to worse over the past few months, and Martin and I can't help but experience a certain amount of schadenfraude over the whole affair because we predicted this was going to happen with structured investment products and prepared ourselves accordingly.
I still subscribe to the FT and WSJ, and quite often I'll post a short comment on an economics blog, especially when it's to correct a fundamental error in the original post. I often wonder what the readers of these comments would think if they knew that the clearly well-informed author was sitting at her computer dressed in tight rubber with a stimulator strapped to her pussy. I actually get quite a kick from knowing I have this power. Not only can I crush a man's spirit with my whip, I can crush it with my mind too. Although they may profess otherwise, most men absolutely detest being the intellectual inferior of a woman, and that even includes submissive men. We've all heard the rationale for male submissiveness haven't we? I'm a very important man with huge responsibilities, and I'm sexually submissive because it's a form of relaxation and release from such burdens. Oh sure, and it's got nothing to do with the fact that you just can't make me come like a real man can because your dick's too small and on top of that you're an intellectual pygmy. Dream on, loser.
One thing I never do in the mornings is visit any sex sites, and in fact I very rarely access such material on the Web these days unless it's to source some clothing or accessories for my games. I know there are some great forums and blogs out there that would stimulate me, but it's easy to get distracted on the Net and lose time for other things. Also I don't like to have my IP address tagged and I can't be fussed to visit such sites through a proxy server.
One major exception is YouTube, where I've found plenty of short clips that have really interested me. A particular favourite is an interview with a professional English dominatrix which both enthrals me and leaves me feeling extremely envious. At one point she shows some special rubber briefs which have an attached dildo and also internal metal spikes. She makes a slave wear these briefs and sit on a chair, and then she rides the dildo. The more excited she gets, the more the spikes press into the man's groin. It's an absolutely wicked idea and I'm determined to get hold of something similar.
The other clips I'm jealous of are the teaser ones from pay-sites (German ones I believe) where they show film of girls walking around in public wearing leather and rubber. I can say without a shadow of a doubt that if I were back in my early twenties right now with my present outlook then that is what I would do for a living, and I wouldn't give a fig what family and friends thought. Sheesh, to actually be paid just to walk around in kinky gear with men ogling you all the time... if I ever make it to heaven I really hope St. Peter is running an operation like that on the side.
9.13am I go upstairs to dress a little earlier than usual today. Things would have been far easier if I'd got Martin to take the morning off to hold the video camera, but it wouldn't be a normal day if he were present. So today will be a little problematic as I'll keep having to reposition the camera tripod and check whether I'm properly in view. It's going to limit what I'll be showing, and everything's going to take longer than normal.
First thing I need to do is get out of my current clothing and into the shower.
9.22am I'm out of the shower and I feel an awful lot fresher, but there's still that very faint aroma of latex from the bra that no amount of soap seems to get rid of. I actually like this smell, but it was something I had to be cautious of when I was working and socially I still have to be careful. I use various methods to neutralise any really strong rubber scent but it's impossible to eliminate it completely. I often wonder whether men catch a whiff of this when I'm close to them in latex underwear and whether it has either a positive or negative effect on them. I don't need to imagine what women would think though.
9.31am I'll always wait ten minutes or so to make sure I'm absolutely dry before I start dressing, and today I use these moments to set up the camera ready for the first shots. My plans today are fairly straightforward. I have two scheduled visitors, and the first won't be arriving until mid afternoon. This leaves the morning and lunchtime free, and so I've decided to get dressed up for a prick tease. I'm going to go out in my car to a city-centre hotel I've been to several times before, and after I've displayed myself there for a while I'll return home for some fun on my own before I receive my first guest. My self-imposed rule on occasions like this is that I can't climax until I'm back, and believe me, this is like asking an habitual heroin user to go cold turkey. The beauty though is that the frustration will make me very, very hot, and when I get into that state I'm really fearless about exhibiting myself. Furthermore the intense orgasm I can look forward to on my return will make the waiting more than worthwhile.
9.35am I've been to my dressing room and collected together the underwear I'll be wearing, and I've pulled a skirt and top out of my bedroom wardrobe. Everything's now lying on the bed and I begin the ritual of putting it all on, something I never tire of doing. I don't intend to show shots of me naked or even bare-breasted unless there's good reason, so for the moment the camera remains off.
The first item I reach for is the black latex panties. These are quite full, which is the style I prefer because I get spanked so much these days and I can take more of such punishment if I have some protection on my rear. Several men have written in the past asking me to wear a thong in some shots, but I'm not keen. Unless you've got one of those perfect Copacabana beach backsides then I don't find thongs particularly flattering. And if the idea is to avoid a visible panty-line then I'd rather have a leather strap pulled between my legs holding a rubber cock in me than a thong. But hey, that's just me.
As I'm pulling on the panties I do in fact think about inserting a small rubber plug into my pussy. Perverse as it may sound, I sometimes use a dildo like this to prevent myself from climaxing when I'm out. The thin but wide flange on the base makes it difficult for me to play with my clit, something that's all too easy to do when I'm sitting in my car all turned on. I can masturbate myself with such a phallus by pushing it in and out of me, but that won't bring release as fast as a couple of perfectly placed fingers.
I know many of you would like me to go out cocked today, and I enjoy turning you on. It's horny isn't it when a woman goes out with a dick in her? I've not met a man yet who doesn't get off on the knowledge in a big way. In the end though I decide to forego such an accessory. It will be a good exercise in self-control not to finger my pussy and while I'm out I can look forward to strapping rubber pricks into myself when I return. That thought is always guaranteed to keep me on edge.
9.37am I put the PVC suspender belt on. If it's likely that I'm going to be having sex with someone then I'll usually wear my panties over my garters so that they can be easily pulled down. This is not just for the convenience of having penetrative sex. I like men to pull my panties down to my knees and grope me while I'm still wearing my skirt and I also like shooting video scenes where I have them around my knees or ankles. However if I'm just on public display somewhere then I'll wear the garters over the briefs because it gives a much sexier profile when the contours of my underwear become visible through my skirt. The suspenders don't get pinched in by the panties, and not only do they hang far more naturally along their full length, but the clasps tend to protrude more as well.
Choosing which stockings to wear in public is something I never find easy as I have so many varieties (although I do tend to pick certain favourites). Ultimately though it boils down to the sort of effect I'm trying to create. Heavily laced or patterned styles tend to get noticed more, but in my opinion plain ones look far classier. Fishnets lie somewhere in between. Today my skirt and top won't look too outrageous, especially at a distance, and so I'd like my stockings to send a signal to men that I'm hot. I therefore opt for the special style that you've seen before in the Shoe Queen post, which is actually a combination of sheer black stockings and net ones.
Seams on the stockings are vital when prick teasing. There's a sluttiness about them that men love and women hate and they give a strong indication that stockings rather than pantyhose are being worn. As soon as guys see seams they immediately start looking for the telltale signs of suspenders, and of course I do my level best to assist them with their detective work.
Fastening and tightening suspenders on to stockings is something I never do quickly simply because I find it so erotic. This morning I spend quite some time rolling on my stockings, checking the seams are straight, and adjusting the garter straps while looking in the mirror. I've got six straps on this belt, the minimum I'll have if I'm allowing my suspenders to be seen through the skirt material. It's vital to have at least one rearward strap either side so that a man who is standing or walking behind me can eye me up without feeling embarrassed or worrying that I'll see him. I've lost count of the times I've been followed by someone as I walk down a street with my straps on display.
9.48am I'm gently playing with my nipples now, making them erect. Sometimes I'll use a vibrator to do this, but today it's not necessary and I have no trouble making them stand to attention. I can make my nipples stay almost permanently erect by constricting them at the base, and I use two different methods to do this: nipple rings and leather lacing.
I actually prefer to lace my nipples when possible as it's such a horny thing to do. I first saw this in a Ward cartoon, where a woman visits a sex shop and the male assistant dutifully laces her huge breasts while she tries on some leather opera gloves (I'm sure it was agony for him). I love that drawing and I wish male store assistants in the UK were so accommodating (I could so easily digress at this point and tell you of my shopping fantasies). It also really turns on a guy if he know your nipples are tied up, and my boyfriend Matt actually likes to bondage me to furniture in this way using extra long tethers.
Lacing isn't so advisable when the idea is to show off the erect nipples. I am going to be wearing an open-cup bra today (I'm not showing it, but it's very similar to the one in the final picture of the Slut Is Born post) under a fairly thin top, and lacing would make me look a strange shape because the leather strands would show through the material. Instead I'm using some non-piercing nipple rings. These are just small coils of silver which you coax on to the nipple, and tighten to whatever level is desired. The tighter you make them the more bloated and impressive the nipples become, but the trade off is increased discomfort. I try to find a sensible compromise somewhere in between.
Putting these rings on is already making me wet with excitement and I've not even walked out of the door yet. It's not just the permanent stimulation, it's knowing that in a couple of hours men's jaws will be dropping as they fixate on my breasts. Most women would simply not be able to do this without acute embarrassment. Unlike my suspenders and skirt where I will be able to control with my body movements how much I reveal, there will be no hiding my blatantly protruding nipples when I remove my jacket in public. At a distance I'll be okay, but at close range you just won't be able to miss them. Of course in my case I don't want anyone to miss them, which is yet more evidence of how my need to arouse and shock men completely overwhelms normal self-consciousness. If I do have a concern it's that such a tactic is too aggressive, with the downside of making the game that I'm playing overly obvious.
9.52am I've put on the bra and now I slip on my favourite five-inch heeled patent court shoes. I've had these for a number of years, but they don't date as far as I'm concerned and I can walk in them as though they're slippers. It almost feels as if they're part of my body.
It's when I stand up again that the true change comes over me. With my high heels on I'm a different person, a more powerful woman, a far sexier woman. I'm Domina Maria and men exist to give me amusement, service, and pleasure. I'm standing six feet two inches tall and my waist will be way higher than that of any man of equivalent height. My hips are pushed forward and there's that wonderful feeling of poise, of balance. Once you understand that balance and attain it then walking around in killer heels is simplicity itself, but like all things where supreme mastery is required, only the very best can make it seem so ridiculously easy. I'm going to throw modesty to the winds here - I'm one of the very best.
9.54am I put on the black designer top. I love this one because it's the perfect breast tease. Who needs low cut tops when you've got something like this? I turn to look in the mirror. Ye gods, Maria, are you serious? I get the same jolting reaction every time; it's just like the early days with Martin when I would panic about being seen in something daring, but the difference now is that this is only a fleeting emotion since I know full well how I'll react when I walk into a public place in such an outrageous state of dress: I will love it. I will absolutely love it, and it will make me want to come.
Women will be appalled and they will pointedly register their disapproval and even disgust. A woman with a partner will explain to him in a hundred different ways why what I am wearing is as far removed from sexy as any outfit could ever be. Well, she can do what she likes for all I care because what she can't change is the visceral reaction that a man experiences when he first sets eyes on Maria's protruding nipples and suspenders. You can no more subdue those primeval feelings of lust and desire than you can overcome the blink reflex. It's ingrained - an instinctive, inborn response.
What's so intriguing as well is the apparent paradox of this woman. She holds herself so confidently, and a minute ago you overheard her exchange a few words with the men at the table next to her. She speaks so well, so wonderfully classy and self-assured, with no ugly accent to break the spell as happens with so many women. Unmistakeably privately educated, and she seems intelligent too. What's going on here? Superficially she doesn't seem interested in the attention, but you can tell she's hot. You can't hide that from a guy.
Sure, he'll tell you afterwards that she looked awful. Too tacky for me; too upfront. No subtlety whatsoever; I like a woman with understated appeal, and in the end it's not about looks. She probably thought she looked great, but she just made a complete fool of herself.
It's bullshit. It's utter bullshit. That night the same guy will make some pathetic excuse to have a bath for once instead of a shower and as he lies back in the warm water he'll close his eyes and stroke his hard cock as he dreams of rodding that gorgeous sexy slut whore until she's begging him to stop. He'll be thinking of lifting that tight black top up and squeezing those erect nipples before giving them a long hard suck that will leave her pussy creaming on its own. His dick will be so far down her throat that even his balls will be in her mouth. Oh, God, I want her, I want that fantastic bit of kinky hot skirt. She was loving it. Yeah, you could see it in her face, in her eyes, with her mouth. She wasn't looking at anyone, but she wasn't fooling me. She wanted prick. She wanted lots of prick.
Every year for the rest of his life there will be a day, maybe many days, where the memory of seeing that woman enters his consciousness once more. It's hardwired, it can't be deleted or even repressed, and nor would he want it to be, because it's a precious memory, one of those moments where you thank Providence for placing you in that place at that time. Half an hour later and you'd have missed her, and the thought that you would never have witnessed that awesome sight is almost too painful to contemplate.
Do you get what I'm saying in those last six paragraphs? If you don't then you'll never understand Maria.
9.58am I turn on the video and take some shots of myself in my black top and underwear. It's a pain having to constantly reposition the tripod and it's virtually impossible to get an idea of what the captures will look like in this lighting. Never mind, keep moving to different places and hope for the best...
10.11am I move the camera into one of the guest rooms where I've decided to do some of the filming today. I wouldn't normally be in here, but with the very basic bed and bare wall it means I won't have to waste time blurring the shots too much. As it turns out I think this location looks a little cheap and seedy, so I'm not sure whether I'll use it again. Hmm, maybe I could put up some of the framed photos that I've given to Martin in the past two years. That might cheer things up a little.
I start posing on the bed. This isn't so much for your benefit as my own. I often video myself like this to increase my excitement before I go out, and to let Martin watch later. If I have time I will download a few captures to my laptop and email them to both my husband and Matt before I leave the house.
10.18am I'm now very turned on and I start to imagine all sorts of things being done to me while I'm dressed like this. I'm no longer really aware of the camera, and I stop looking at it. I start to stroke my fingers across my rubber-covered pussy, something I really shouldn't be doing.
10.20am I get on to all fours, imagining I'm about to be spanked. Oh, wouldn't it be great to be in a public place and be made to get into a position like this, with someone disciplining my rear while a queue of men wait their turn to unload in my mouth. Yes, that's what I want...
10.23am Damn, it's no good, I need to suck a cock before I go out. I fetch a realistic rubber prick from my dressing room and fix it to the wall by its sucker. After repositioning the camera I start to play with the phallus - kissing, licking, then finally sucking. As I have said before, whenever I play games like this I am able to project myself into any fantasy so that it all becomes very real to me. Ooh, I like this one, it's bigger than the last three. I hope it shoots more cum than the others... hmm, I'm struggling to get this one in my throat... oh, yes, my panties are being pulled down and there's another queue behind me now... yes, that's it boys, give Maria everything you've got...
10.31am I forcibly have to drag myself away from what I'm doing - a few more minutes of this and I'll be on my back pumping the dong in and out of me. I tell myself I can resume this later when I get back home. I pick up the camera and tripod and return to my bedroom.
10.32am I put on the grey skirt. You've seen this before, but it's a simple design and like my shoes it doesn't really date. I'm sure you've noticed that I wear very similar outfits when cock teasing. This is because there are some tops and skirts that are just perfect for creating the desired effect and I'm very practised in posing in them. With this skirt for example I know precisely how much leg I'm showing without looking and I know exactly how to move my body if I want to momentarily make the garter straps highly prominent. You have to remember that most men who encounter me on trips like this have never set eyes on me before and likely never will again, so to them my clothes are novel. I'm sorry if I bore you at times, but I'm not going to keep renewing my prick-teasing wardrobe just to maintain variety on the mariasdiary pages.
10.34am More video shots, this time trying to demonstrate the full effect of the skirt and top together. It's not that outrageous an outfit at first glance is it? If you weren't looking closely then you might not even notice there is something so different about this woman. But of course men are looking closely. I make sure they end up looking very closely indeed.
10.40am I'm so hot now, perfectly ready to make cocks hard. Seeing myself in the mirror as I posed for the camera has given me a good idea of what onlookers will be gawping at in an hour's time, and I'm really up for it. The danger as I work myself into an ever more turned on state is that I'll go too far. The thought comes into my head of momentarily flashing my rubber panties at men today. Stop it Maria! Don't even think of it! No, I won't do that I tell myself, but all the same I pull my bedroom chair in front of the mirror and quickly do a few trials of crossing my legs to get an idea of what people might see. Just experimenting of course...
10.48am It's going to take 30-40 minutes to get to the hotel depending on traffic and I want to arrive there around 11.45, so I've got a few minutes to kill. I go into the upstairs hallway and pick up one of the house phones from its base station. I dial Martin's mobile number.
"I'm just about to leave," I announce when he answers.
I'm tingling with the pleasure of knowing the conflict that those few words will have triggered within him.
"I don't know what I'm looking forward to more," I continue, " - showing myself off this lunchtime or having Adam's prick in my mouth this afternoon."
Martin always tries to be cool, and in any case I've no idea whether he has others present with him. "I'm sure you'll enjoy both," he says flatly.
"I'm sure I will," I agree, and I kill the call. Short and sweet. Martin gets an awful lot of short and sweet calls from me these days.
Now I've mentioned his name, the thought of being with Adam later has been planted in my head and I decide to call him. I can't remember the number though, so I have to go downstairs to look it up.
He answers fairly quickly. "Hello Maria," he says. Do I detect a little concern in his voice?
"Hi," I reply. "I take it we're still on for three o'clock this afternoon?"
It's a completely redundant question. Save for cardiac arrest or a death in the family you don't let Maria down.
"Sure," he confirms. That sounded more relaxed. I later find out that he was worried I was calling to cancel.
"That's great," I say with a heavy sigh. There's a slight pause then before I speak again.
"Adam?" I eventually say.
Another pause. Then: "I love your prick. I want it in my throat again like last week. I want every inch again."
He makes what sounds like a groan and then I hear a muffled "Yeah".
"I'll see you later," I say as sexily as I can, and as with Martin I now cancel the call before he gets a chance to say anything more.
[Yikes, this is so different now. I've just realised that Matt is going to read this and he'll have to get used to dialogue like the above with my men friends. I suspect that naughty Maria is going to be facing some extra punishment from her boyfriend as a result.]
11.00am I'm slightly early, but I decide to leave. I put on my leather jacket and some short gloves and grab one of the smaller cases I once used for work. I always keep a few old office papers in this as props. There will be some newspapers in the hotel bar, but I like the effect of being a career girl on the move. It all adds to the paradox I spoke of earlier. What shall I be today? Graphic designer? Media executive?
11.05am I'm now on the road. On a journey like this where I'll be alone on public display I won't necessarily spend my time thinking about what's going to happen. I'm already very turned on and there's a risk that I won't be able to carry off the aloof act if I work myself up even further. I need to be as outwardly dispassionate as possible, so I'll just listen to the radio or concentrate on something more mundane. Sexy thoughts regularly enter my head but I learned when I was working how to keep these under control.
11.35am I've just parked the car on a metered side street about 400 yards from the hotel. Normally I have to park in the multi-storey nearby, which I don't like doing. Today I'm lucky.
I walk along the road a little then turn into a wide pedestrianised walkway which heads slightly downhill. Either side of me are office buildings, but not towering modern ones. Most of these have been here for over two hundred years. It's a very picturesque and unspoilt area of the town.
Disappointingly there aren't too many people around to watch me make this small journey. It's a fairly cold, dismal day, and it's normally far busier when the sun is shining. In around half an hour the place will begin to bustle as office staff take their lunch break, and the return to my car later should be far more exciting. One plus with the weather is that it's quite windy. There's no chance of my skirt blowing up because it's too tight, but as I'm walking into the wind the skirt material is being pressed against my legs. I don't have to look down to know that my front suspenders will be highly visible as a result. Come on guys, where are you? - you don't know what you're missing.
I'm very aware of the sound my high heels are making on the tarmac walkway. I love that sound, and so do men. It makes me feel sexy and I know my body movements are sexier because of it. I walk relatively slowly, unhurried, with long, languid steps. I make very little in the way of arm movements, just a slight sway back and forth in time with my legs. My head is held quite high so that there's a natural confidence about me, but I try to avoid appearing arrogant or haughty, which just intimidates men and makes me seem far less approachable. The last thing I ever want to do is to give the impression that I'm some sort of man-eater and I'll quite often lower my eyes or bow my head slightly as men pass, submissive gestures which increase their feelings of security and importance. There's no real mileage in portraying the domina role in public - the skill is to ostensibly allow men to be in control, find their weaknesses, and then use those weaknesses to bend them to one's will. The true dominatrix is an actress, a woman who will play almost any part, dominant or submissive, to steer and manipulate men into gradually succumbing to her.
A girl walks by me, probably a receptionist or assistant from one of the offices judging by the way she's dressed. I catch her raising her eyebrows at me, but other than that her face doesn't reveal what she's thinking. That's not the case thirty seconds later when two men approach me, both in business suits. I don't make eye contact but there's little chance of that because both of them seem fixated on my legs and skirt for some reason. I just love it, and now my pussy is really tingling. I curse myself for not wearing my clit stimulator until I remind myself how dangerous that would be when I'm in such a highly turned on state, especially if I've connected it to my stocking tops. I discovered this little trick some time ago. I was removing some detachable suspenders from one of my corsets and realised that I could easily fasten these to the elastics of my clit stim using the standard garter hooks on them. Then all I had to do was attach the suspenders to my stockings as normal and pull them really tight. As a result, when I'm taking long strides in high heels the stimulator is pulled into slightly different positions as the suspender elastics stretch with my leg movements. In short, I'm clit-wanked while I walk, an absolutely stunning experience.
Another guy approaches. Dancing eyes, so comical to see. Left, right, up, my face. Down, left, down again, my legs. Up, right, my skirt. For goodness sake man, just STARE AT ME! Drink it all in while you can, because in ten seconds it'll be over.
11.42am I walk into the entrance of the hotel and turn immediately right towards the bar area. I say 'hotel' because that's what it calls itself, but don't get the idea that it's some large downtown convention-type venue that you know I often visit. It's an old building with only three floors and it has very few guest rooms. It's more of an eating establishment which caters for the professionals from the offices and their clients. There's a sizeable restaurant, a couple of meeting rooms, and a large lounge bar which gets very busy at lunchtimes.
The bar has a very relaxed, informal atmosphere, an exercise in studied asymmetry. It's got an eclectic mishmash of furniture - sofas and armchairs of varying styles in the centre of the room, and taller chairs and stools around the periphery where there's a wide ledge for placing drinks and food. The menu is fairly comprehensive - you can order anything from a light sandwich to a full meal - and I've always found the food to be excellent.
The place is almost deserted when I walk in and there's only one guy serving behind the long counter that takes up all of one side of the room. I do a quick scan as I walk over to the barman, trying to assess where will be the best place to perch myself for maximum effect.
"Just a coffee please. Regular. Black."
"Sure," he responds, and he looks at me closely, but politely. I've not seen him before, but then again I've not been here for three months and the staff has always turned over fairly rapidly. Hmm, not bad looking I think to myself, and then I immediately wonder what reaction I'm going to get from him once my leather jacket is removed.
He turns to get the coffee and this gives me more time to evaluate my options. There are some tall stools along the bar - always a good place to be for obvious reasons and there's a virtual guarantee that men will start talking to me. The trouble is that I don't want to have my back to the centre of the room and it's going to be far too obvious what I'm doing if I turn to face the other way. Also I won't be able to play the working businesswoman role if I'm sitting there.
I'm tempted to sit somewhere around the edge of the room, because I very much fancy sitting in one of those high chairs. I'll be able to cross my legs really tightly and as I periodically change position I'll be able to give glimpses of stocking top, even letting my skirt ride up high enough to reveal a suspender strap if there are only men around me. That thought sends a shiver down my spine. Realistically though I know the best place for me is on one of the sofas in the middle of the room, which is where I sat the last time I came. I'll be able to lay my papers on one of the low tables and I'll be the centre of attention as I apparently work my way through them. But which sofa? When I came before I arrived later in the day and didn't have a great deal of choice where I parked myself. Today I can pretty much sit wherever I want.
I make my choice almost instantly, but you might be surprised at the mix of variables that will go into making a decision like that and I'm sure you'll think I take these things to ridiculous extremes. The visibility from the counter, from the doorway, from the outer area; the height of the chairs; the sofa fabric; the lighting. All these factors and more are computed rapidly in my head as I seek the optimal location to display myself.
"Would you like a tab?"
I turn back to the barman and smile at him. "Yes, if you would please. I'm having a sandwich in a while."
I pick up my coffee and walk over to a two-seater sofa across to the left. It's not the obvious choice because it's further away from the bar than others and I won't be quite as conspicuous. But it has one big advantage as far as I'm concerned - it's significantly lower than the others.
I know what you're thinking: Lower? You mean higher don't you?
No, I mean lower. When sitting on a low chair in very high heels, the angle of my thighs can actually be pointing slightly upwards rather than downwards, and this makes it far more likely that my skirt will begin to gradually slide up my legs without any assistance from me (because up is down, right?). Also, try to imagine what it's like for a woman in such high heels and a short skirt to lift herself elegantly off a low-lying chair. It ain't easy I can assure you, and all sorts of mishaps can occur. Mishaps did you say? You mean where the skirt catches on the sofa fabric as she tries to pull herself up and this causes it to ride up her legs? Or where she has to spread her legs a little more than modesty would normally dictate to get sufficient leverage to lift herself off the chair? Yup, I mean those sort of mishaps.
Try this as an experiment some time: sit on a lounge sofa (the lower the better) and make sure that you're fully on it, not perched on the edge. Put your legs together so that your knees are touching and then put your hands on your knees. Now stand up. Easy, isn't it? Okay, now put something five or six inches high under your feet that can fully support your weight. Try getting up again. Not so simple now is it? In fact you may find it impossible. The two instinctive methods to get up in such a situation are to either hitch yourself forward to the edge of the seat before standing, or to open your legs wider, and in both cases you'll find you need to place your hands either side of you to give yourself an initial lift.
Think about that for a moment and you'll know why I chose the low sofa.
11.46am I'm by the sofa now and I put my case on the table before starting to remove my gloves and jacket. Today I'm unmarried. I took my wedding and engagement rings off before I left home, but this isn't something I always do. I know some guys get off on the sight of a married woman out in suspenders and stockings, so I keep the rings on sometimes. I often wonder what people would think if they discovered just how many men have ejaculated their sperm on to my wedding ring, a cuckolding ritual that I confess was unknown to me when I started Maria's Diary. This is now one of the first tasks any new lover who visits my home performs and on the video you will then see me draw my hand up to my mouth and sexily lick the ring clean. It's such a simple yet poignant symbolic act of marital betrayal.
Apart from the barman there are only six other people in the room. A middle-aged couple are sitting on one of the other sofas behind me. Both of them are reading books and as yet I haven't heard them exchange a single word. They look like academics, maybe from the nearby university. I imagine this is a regular routine for them - a cup of coffee and a relaxed read. Apparently neither of them is aware of my presence yet.
There's another couple sitting on high seats at the back of the room, facing more towards the wall than towards me. They both look young - late teens I'd say. From what I can see she's very pretty, with her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, and he looks quite a cool guy. I don't expect much of a reaction from someone of his age. His kick is still most likely gyrating semi-naked teenage girls, not a woman in her thirties in a state of provocative dress, no matter how attractive she may be. As with the other pair, they don't appear to have noticed me.
Then there are two single guys. One is sitting facing the left wall eating a sandwich while reading a newspaper. I'm guessing he's one of the staff waiting to come on shift because he's already exchanged words with the barman, talking to him without looking up. Well, he'll be looking at me soon if I'm right. The other guy is far more interesting to me though. Early thirties by the look of him, sitting in an armchair nearby tapping away at what looks like a BlackBerry. He clocked me as soon as I walked into the room, and as I stood waiting for my coffee I could see out of the corner of my eye that he was looking in my direction. Yeah, that's right sweetie, you have a good look at the hottie at the bar.
11.47am I've removed my jacket and I've draped it over the arm of the sofa. I straighten my top and then sit down as elegantly as possible, legs together. From now on I can't make eye contact with anyone without good reason. It's vital that I remain oblivious to any attention and appear preoccupied with my papers, which I've started to remove from the case. BlackBerry Man is only ten feet away and he's got a completely unobstructed view of both my legs and my chest. I don't need to look around to know that I'm being closely studied.
Mamma Mia, I don't believe it! Look at those fucking tits!!! Oh baby, you are special... what an incredible sight, her nips are sticking right out! She can't be wearing a bra can she? Surely her nips wouldn't bulge out like that if she had a bra on? Man, she's so hot she's smokin', but she doesn't seem aware of it. Makes you wonder though, with the sussies and the boobs... oh, who cares, it's just great to look at. Stunning looker too. Wish I knew how long she's going to be here - it's almost worth ringing Tim and Rich and getting them to come down. I'm tempted to say something to her, chat her up. Bloody hell, I'm getting a hard on. Calm down mate, and stop staring. Look somewhere else for a bit. Yeah, as if.
12.05pm The place is beginning to get busier. I've been sitting studying my papers for over a quarter of an hour and I've been doing my best to give a good display. I periodically shift position, cross my legs, uncross them, run my fingers through my hair, adjust my skirt. I regularly look up because it's the natural thing to do, but my eyes apparently never fix on anything. It's just an absent-minded scan of my surroundings.
Well, that's what it looks like, but in those seconds I drink in all the attention and spatially map out the actors in the scene. I now have several admirers, of that I'm sure, and more are arriving by the minute. Oh, this is just great... and I'm here for roughly another three quarters of an hour.
12.15pm I do another scan. Whoa, now's the moment. There's a small queue at the bar. Time to get another coffee and order my sandwich. I'll have to stand waiting my turn with everyone looking at my seamed stockings and rear suspenders. How awful for me. And oh dear, even worse, my skirt rides up when I try to stand out of that low sofa. How terribly embarrassing.
12.19pm The barman asks who's next. I wait for the guy beside me. He turns and says: "I think you're next." No, I tell him, you were first. It's okay, he assures me, please go first. Hmm, maybe the age of chivalry isn't dead after all. Then again maybe he just wants to eye up my engorged teats at close range. God, I'd love to pull up my top right now and let him feed on my breasts while he's waiting. And the guy on the other side too. Are you sure you want that tuna salad? Wouldn't you rather eat these instead?
12.23pm I've sat back down again with my refilled coffee. The club sandwich should only be a few minutes. My air of indifference is still there despite me being so hugely turned on. I'm really attuned now to everything that's going on around me, especially snippets of conversation. Maybe sometimes I hear what I want to hear, but I don't really believe that. It's those snippets of dialogue that have taught me what goes through men's minds when they ogle yours truly.
12.29pm The sandwich has arrived and I'm on my third bite when my phones buzzes with a call. I don't normally answer in such a public place, but I check to see who's calling. It's a man I've only been seeing for three months, Jeremy. I'm thinking: Hmm, I wonder what he wants? when I suddenly realise that this is an opportunity to exhibit myself some more. I take the call and ask Jeremy to hang on a minute as I’m in a bar and need to get outside.
There's a young girl sitting near me and I ask her if she can watch over my jacket and case for moment. No problem, she says, and she's very pleasant about it. No look of disapproval or animosity. Maybe I don't look as outrageous as I imagine myself to be.
12.30pm I'm outside the hotel entrance, standing with my hip pushed out to one side so that my side garter strap is in full profile. I'm getting plenty of looks from passers by as I have a short exchange with Jeremy. He’s on the way back into London after a meeting and would like to stop briefly at my home, but although I’m instantly tempted it soon becomes clear that I won’t be able to make it back in time. Regrettably I have to turn him down but I tell him to give me a call the next day and we’ll arrange a visit soon.
12.32pm I'm back inside, heading to the sofa. I say thanks to the girl who was watching my things. She has a friend with her now and this girl doesn't look so kindly towards me. Then again she looks quite plain and more than a little overweight, so maybe if I was wearing a garbage sack she would still resent me. You'll have to excuse me being so judgemental about other women sometimes and I don't for a moment take for granted the gift of good looks I have been given, but I work very hard to make myself look as attractive as possible and I haven't got a great deal of time for girls who clearly don't make much effort. I don't believe it's beyond the ability of any woman to look highly appealing if she's really determined to do so, and she should do it for herself, not for others.
I'm delighted to see BlackBerry Man is still there and I'm now suspecting that my presence has resulted in an extended stay for him. If that's the case I wish I could give him a reward. I'm also very aware of two suited young guys who are standing just behind where he's sitting. They've been eyeing me up and down constantly for the past twenty minutes and they keep talking conspiratorially over their drinks when they're looking in my direction. I like it when men are in pairs like that, especially when they're younger than me.
12.41pm I've finished my sandwich and in the minutes before I leave I'd like to turn up the heat with some very revealing flashes of stocking, but the presence of several women around me makes that something of a no-no. In such a crowded place I'm lucky if I can go any further than just looking very hot, and in any case I've had enough kicks so far today to put me in the perfect state for my upcoming session back home. I begin to pack up my things in preparation for my departure.
12.45pm This is my last time getting out of that low chair and I make it a good one. I deliberately turn my body towards BlackBerry Man and the two suits (although I make sure I'm looking elsewhere) and hitch forward along the seat. The girls nearby can't see what I'm doing very easily because I've turned away from them now and my jacket is draped over the side of my body closest to them.
I feel the skirt pulling up my legs as I hitch forward again, and my left leg rises into the air slightly. It's only the briefest of moments, but in that second my thigh will be have been high enough for the stocking tops to have been seen from the underneath. It's a very sexy sight, and there's also the faint possibility that my rubber panties were visible as well. At this point, to onlookers, I apparently realise that my skirt has got caught and I lean sideways to pull it from under me. Once again this briefly reveals my black stocking tops, although hopefully it appears totally unintentional - I'm just another unfortunate female victim of a low-lying chair.
I make a mental note to shoot some video that will give an idea of what it would have looked like when I got up from the sofa. I don't know how many men got that last view, but I would think it was at least a dozen. No doubt one or two girls did too, but I will never lose sleep over that. I got what I wanted, and with luck BlackBerry Man and others will remember this day for some time to come. Even if they don't, I fantasise that they will and that's what my games in public are all about.
Do I live in a dream world where I simply imagine men are aroused and excited by me when I go out on trips like this? Are they in fact indifferent to me, or even worse, simply laughing at me? No, I would never accept that. I couldn't do these sorts of things if I wasn't absolutely sure of the response I was getting. I think I understand better than most women the thoughts that go through men's minds in situations like this, and how sexy clothing and glimpses of underwear stimulate them at some very base level. Sexual temptation is the greatest weapon that a woman has at her disposal and I use it to get everything that I want.
Where did it all go wrong for me? To think if I'd played my cards right I could have been a humourless, crop-haired, make-up free, sexless cow who writes for a liberal Sunday newspaper telling women how they should think and act. Instead I've made the disastrous mistake of sexually objectifying myself and now I have this appalling existence where I don't have to work, I don't have to do the washing, cleaning, cooking, ironing, or shop the groceries, I have several lovers to satisfy all my sexual needs, I have slaves to whip as they wait on me, I have all the money I require, and I can do exactly what I want. What an absolute tragedy of a life, eh?
Oops, I'm beginning to sound philosophical. Get back to the timeline, Maria.
12.46pm I calmly put on my jacket and gloves before going to the bar to settle my tab. So many eyes on me; what a waste of good teasing material. Still, you can't have it all...
12.52pm I'm walking back to my car at the same pace I came, no quicker. The walkway is much busier now, and I'm being eyed up by plenty of men. I'm experiencing the delicious feeling of severe dampness - the inside of my rubber panties must be very wet. I'm tempted to take off my jacket to put my breasts back on display, despite the cold.
I'm not really disappointed that no one tried to chat me up in the bar. It's exciting when it happens, but it's better to be in a quieter place where I can really turn up the heat, even though I'll eventually diplomatically rebuff a guy's advances unless there's something really special about him.
12.56pm I'm level with the old courthouse now, one of the oldest buildings in the town. I got goose pimples when I passed this on the way to the bar earlier, but in my heightened state now... oh, what a turn on. Why? Because this was the site of the old punishment stocks, and even better... (I'm getting the shivers just writing this)... the whipping posts.
Now there's a career I would never have given up, and I would have been the very best. Maria the High Whip Mistress of London. Oh yeah.
Each day the crowd gathers in anticipation of seeing Maria walk out in her thigh boots, black leather corset and long leather gloves. The spectators look on enthralled as her assistants lay her selection of whips out on the special stand in front of the two posts: crops, lashes, bullwhips, snake whips - her beloved children.
Today as on every day the miscreants are led out naked in a line, their heads bowed in shame, their ankles and wrists shackled with strong, heavy chains. Two are pushed forward and tethered to the posts, hands pulled high, legs spread apart. The Whip Mistress watches on dispassionately, her air of absolute professionalism belied only by the faintest hint of a smile.
The charges are read out by the Clerk of the Court. The crowd boo and shout as the misdemeanours are made public and the punishments announced. Then the catcalls gradually die away as the Mistress waits for total silence in the square.
Finally she steps forward to select her weapon. She pauses for a moment, and the air of expectation rises. Then a collective gasp emerges from the crowd as she picks up an eight-foot bullwhip in each hand. Several onlookers involuntarily kneel in homage. A double whipping. Only a legend can do such a thing with bullwhips. The skill required... the exquisite accuracy...
Maria turns to face her victims. There is a calmness on her face, but there is also fire in her eyes, her own special blend of unwavering concentration and - dare it be said? - lust.
She stands there for some time, her head lowered, the whips held dormant either side of her. She looks magnificent, a goddess, her leather-clad body held in perfect poise. For the crowd the waiting is almost unbearable, but for the Mistress time does not pass.
She waits... and she waits... and then in an unforgettable perfection of fluidity her head slowly lifts and her hands begin to rise. The motion is so pure and controlled that it's only as her arms reach the maximum extent of their rearward travel that you finally appreciate the power she has summoned for the attack. Her body is arched so far backward that you will never understand how she failed to fall, yet there is never any suggestion of imbalance - only sublime, coiled aggression.
You know that it's impossible, but somehow she seems able to momentarily hold that moment, a single second of time where Maria becomes one with her whips. Amazingly too, her eyes begin to close. She no longer needs sight to control where the lashes will land.
It's a privilege. You will always be able to say that you were there. You were there on that special day when the Whip Mistress made her strike.
1.09pm I'm well on my way home, but the traffic is heavier at lunchtime. I hope I'm not going to be delayed too much, but I can make up time on the dual carriageway. I really want to come, and I'm not holding back on the erotic thoughts. The anticipation is wonderful.
I smile at the thought of the whipping post fantasy. That was fun, but what's really tormenting me now is the idea of me standing in that square outside the courthouse and being fucked in public while a crowd gather to watch. I'm put into the old stocks, and there I stand dressed as I am right now, bent over helpless as the first guy in the queue lifts up my skirt, pulls down my briefs, and then fucks my ass. Oh yes, that's what I need... a cock in my backside... when I get home I'm going to fuck my ass on a wall-mounted rubber cock and then I'm going to come, and come, and come...
1.27pm I'm driving through the village now, only a few minutes from home. My pussy is on fire and I know I'm going to have a fabulous release when it comes. To let the tension build like this, to go all morning and beyond without having something inside my vagina is still quite rare for me, although I'm doing it more often these days because the orgasms I experience later (and not just the first) are so intense as a consequence. Just a few minutes more...
1.33pm I'm indoors and I don't waste time. I go upstairs and get a realistic rubber prick out of a drawer. It's similar to the one I was sucking earlier, but this is smaller and it can vibrate.
I'm just about to sucker it to the wall when I remember that I'm meant to be videoing this for my diary. Stuff it, is it really necessary? I'm not going to look very elegant am I, and maybe these private acts of mine are best imagined rather than seen. I really ought to give myself the option though... after all, everything I did this morning and at lunchtime was as a build up to this. I swear out loud, but go and collect the camera and tripod.
I decide to go to a different room, one where there's a large wall-mounted mirror by the window. I sucker the cock to the mirror and then set up the camera as best I can. I've no idea whether the back light from the window will screw up the shots, but I no longer care. I just want that dick in my backside and I'm going to have it right now. I press 'Record' on the camera and go back to the mirror.
I don't even take my gloves off when I lube the cock - Martin can clean them up later. I'm delirious now, just so wet and hot. I play with the prick just for a moment, then turn away from it and hitch up my skirt. I'd like to pull my panties down my legs, but they're trapped by the suspenders so I just pull them off my rear to give the man access to my asshole. Yes, it's a man now, a gorgeous, sexy, tall, big-pricked stud who likes rodding hot slut wives.
I hold his prick against my ass, moving it in small circular motions to lubricate the entrance. Ooh, lovely, lovely. My head goes back and my mouth opens as I increase the pressure. Any moment now he's going to penetrate me and then his special treat will start. Maria is going to masturbate his prick with her ass. He won't even have to move. She will do all the work for her Master.
It goes in... oh my God, I'm in heaven. That feeling of a cock - real or rubber - entering my arse is one of the most wonderful feelings in the world. It makes my knees buckle every time. That's why it's so sensational when more than one guy is with you. When the first cock has ejaculated in your rear and slides out, you know you're about to get that same incredible feeling again as the next one takes its turn.
I don't talk much this time. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't - there's no real pattern. "Oh, your cock's fantastic. I just love having your beautiful prick in me." When I watch the video later I do hear myself say that - the same sort of thing I say to real guys when they're screwing me.
I've reached down and turned on the vibrator. I'm gyrating on the cock now as it buzzes away loudly. I'm just loving it. This is where words become inadequate, because I can't find any to describe to you the zenith of ecstasy I reach at moments like this. It's everything I live for.
I'm not going to last long, but I don't want to. This is the prelude to the other orgasms I'm now going to give myself and they will all be just as intense. I start to properly ass fuck myself now, no circular motion of my rear, but instead back and forth, back and forth, forcing deeper penetration with each rearward thrust of my body. I'm ready, this is it, this is it... oh yes, this is it.
I put two fingers to my pussy and begin to rub vigorously. That's all it takes, just thirty seconds or so of clit stimulation and then suddenly my body explodes with pleasure. My mouth is wide open as if I want to scream, but momentarily I can't make any sound. Tears are in my eyes and my whole body is shaking. Then I finally find my voice and let out all the emotion:
"Oh YES!!... YES!!... YYYYEEEEESSSSS!!!!!!..."
For me the feeling doesn't really stop at this point. Such orgasms don't so much end as just become less intense, and quite often I will continue to sodomize myself in this way until my legs can no longer take the strain of holding the position. Today though I want to dress up and have different pricks in me before my lover arrives, so I gradually wind down my movements until I'm just gently rocking back and forth on the cock. I'm always reluctant to remove a prick that's in me like this. It feels like it belongs there, should stay there forever. It takes no small measure of willpower to finally move away from the mirror and desert my outstanding lover.
I switch off the camera and for a moment just stand there catching my breath. Then a smile comes across my face as I consider how bizarre that small cameo is going to look - the classy, cool domina completely losing it on video.
Oh well, I'm sure they'll understand.
|To contact me, email maria at this site|