Cream

Outside the window, a gray, foggy morning, a rusty-crimson brick haze of the autumn park. Sighing sweetly from contemplating this landscape, I stretch, burrowing into the snow-white embroidered blanket. My naked bronze body tenses from the fabric sliding over my crotch, making me arch once again. My fingertips instinctively slid over my cheek, traced the curves of my plump, sensual mouth, slid inside, moistened, played with my tongue. They descended to my neck, leaving a wet trail; my left hand gently stroked my small, firm breasts, making my hips arch towards an invisible partner. My crotch grew moist, ached, sought the sweetness of pleasure,

tenderness or perhaps roughness. Having had my fill with my breasts, my wanton hands moved their caresses to my stomach, my thighs, bringing their mistress to tears of unquenched desire. The surging excitement spread in wet streams along the inner surface of my thighs. Tears streamed from my eyes onto my red, passion-tormented face. My palm slid over the wet, hot surface of my clitoris and the entrance to the cave of my vagina; moments later, my fingers plunged into the tireless womb of lust. A moan escaped my lips, deeper, more, more and more. A whisper into the void, mmm, my hand tore free from the wet prison, reached for my lips. Tasty, spicy, brazen.

"Vlad, I want you" — suddenly burst out, no, flew from my lips, the name of my future lover. Retrieving the vibrator always lying by the head of the bed, setting it to a soft mode, I began to caress my clitoris with the head of the lilac wonder, spreading my legs as wide as possible. Rolling onto my side and directing the shaft of the vibrator into my wet, pulsating vagina. Gasping with excitement, increasing the amplitude of the movements. A flash, a bright flash always making me whimper, thrash, squeeze my legs tighter. Vlad, Vlad, I thrashed, screamed, until I fell silent with the buzzing vibrator inside, sinking into a deep sleep.

Twelve, yes, I was that age when I experienced my first orgasm from masturbation. The first arousal, from playing house with a girlfriend at around seven. The sensual world of caresses from touches coupled with prohibitions and sin.

When my parents weren't home, like any girl, I would put on my mother's clothes and shoes; as a teenager, trying on my mother's lace underwear, to which were mixed impressions from watching my first porn film, "Little Red Riding Hood." And always brightly, sharply, like a flash.

At 30, sensuality reached its peak, and even now, the blanket on my skin plus the anticipation of a meeting, new sensations, made me ignite.

After sleeping for an hour and a half, I began to get ready for a meeting with another candidate for a lover, ready to show me the sharp edges of BDSM. The meeting was scheduled at a small cafe "FLY" at three in the afternoon. Loose black hair, minimal makeup, a tank top, a plaid shirt, ballet flats — perfect for not standing out.

As always, painfully punctual, I arrived right on the minute, the phone rang.

"Hello. Yes. I'm listening, you?"

"Oh, hi. Are you already obeying me?"

Ignoring the interlocutor, but appreciating the humor.

"Vladimir, have you arrived already?"

"Yes, now, I'm coming in."

A pleasant man, fit, with an impeccable smile, sat opposite me and radiated positive energy, with the caveat that he was into BDSM.

"So, Diana, I didn't expect to see such a pretty girl. What interests you about this topic?"

"Thank you for the compliment. Just curious to try something new, it's exciting."

"What exactly do you want to try?"

"Well, I don't know, it's my first time, it's hard for me to talk about what I might want."

"I think I'd like bondage, whip strikes, clamps."

"Oh, the classics of the genre. There's a lot more I can show you."

"Okay, until I experience it myself, I can't define my desires."

"Yes, right. So, do you agree to become my slave?"

"Yes, I think so. I did come here for that."

"Yes, I suppose it will be interesting, knowing in advance what awaits."

"Don't get your hopes up on that account, there's more staged video, amateur stuff is rare."

"And how did you get into this topic?"

"Simple sex stopped satisfying me, I wanted more."

"And how long ago did this start for you?" — I said, teasing.

"Yes, a few years ago, believe me, I have a lot of experience."

We ordered coffee, continuing to chat about everything and nothing. Finding each other's company entertaining.

"Let's meet on Wednesday evening?"

"Why exactly Wednesday?"

"Just my favorite day of the week."

"Okay."

We left the cafe, Vladimir suggested sitting in his car.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Oh, is that acceptable in BDSM?"

"I am the master, you are the slave, here I decide what is acceptable and what is not. Actually, it gives me pleasure to see that you don't like something."

He kissed me, simply, without feeling, without a spark; my arousal didn't awaken, it was cold on my part. He pulled up my tank top, exposed my breasts, I froze, it was unpleasant, too fast, brazen. Taking my hand and placing it on his crotch, he grabbed my hair, pulling my head back.

"I really want to spit in your face. But I won't ruin your pretty face. Well, don't be cold, caress my cock."

Vladimir unzipped his sweatpants and extracted a short, but strong and thick cock.

"You're just like a girl, timid and shy. You do know how to give a blowjob, sweetie, take it in your mouth."

I leaned down, feeling a timid surge of excitement from the anticipation of the beginning adventure. Licking the emerged droplet and closing my eyes with pleasure, with my lips and tongue tending to the swollen head, threading it deeper with my mouth to the base.

"You're not bad at it, but you lack looseness. Why so tense? Okay, don't try too hard, I already came today."

And people walked by on their own business, but the car's tint hid my next fall... into emptiness.

Wednesday. October. Eighteen.

"Hi" — accompanied by a buzzing, a message floated onto the phone screen.

"Are you up already? Everything's still on for today?"

"Yes. Just let me sleep" — I hastily typed the message. Where shall we meet?

"I'll wait for you at the bus station at 16:00. We'll go to the place in my car."

"Ok."

Now I couldn't sleep, I trudged to the kitchen, put the kettle on, on the way popping into the bathroom, getting under the contrasting streams of the shower, putting my thoughts in order. Thoughts swirled in my head. Erotic stories. My conscience or inner self, in general, something inside me was having a dialogue with me. And what have you gotten yourself into this time? Do you need adventures for the second ninety? Dina, you'll play yourself into trouble someday. Someone else was making excuses for me, twisting, lying, and giving arguments, replacing them with conclusions.

After showering, turning on a random playlist on my phone's player, screams of In Waves by Trivium burst from the speaker, urging to scream. Scream or not, girlfriend, congratulations, you've gotten yourself into another one, I congratulated myself. Coffee with milk together with the musical selection cheered up and calmed the demons of my soul.

Getting a bright red manicure at the salon, visiting a tanning bed, getting ready for an exotic date with a sadist. A tanned brunette in a red dress with lips and nail polish matching the color of her red car.

Driving up to the station, switching to my master's car, I felt excitement. How will it be, maybe forget it, stop, it's too late to hesitate, finish what you started. Parking by an inconspicuous hotel, going up to a small ochre-colored room with a bathroom, a small sofa, and a large bed behind a partition. I'm briefly ordered to undress and take a shower. I obey, smiling, for which I later receive a hefty slap.

"What's so funny? Slave, here I am the law."

I receive a blow to the other cheek. I look wildly into the gray eyes of the offender, trying to incinerate with the green fire of my eyes. Vlad grabbed me by the hair and pulled me towards the sofa, ordering me to get on

my knees and put my hands behind my back.

"Lower your head and don't you dare look at me so brazenly in the eyes again" — with these words, delivering a blow with a belt on my back, having first tied my hands behind my back — Vlad said.

"Bend your back and head to the floor."

First the belt, and then his hands slid over the skin of my back and buttocks, kneading, stroking, delivering blow after blow. I'm not in pain at all, no feelings, no arousal, pain, resentment, desire, only emptiness, which is soon replaced by a desire to subdue the master, to possess his soul, my devils applaud standing.

Grabbing my hair, he jerked me up sharply, peering into my brazen, cunning eyes, spat in my face, and again from what I experienced, no feelings, emptiness, and the reaction to subdue this amazing man.

Laying me on the floor, with my hands tied, back down. He himself sat on the edge of the sofa, spreading his legs, ordered me to open my mouth wide, close my eyes. A warm, salty stream flowed into my mouth; to my surprise, I didn't flinch. Finishing pouring into my mouth, he stood up and walked away to the table.

"Don't swallow, hold it in your mouth, if you spill it, I'll hurt you. Spread your legs."

Vladimir leaned towards my crotch, put on gloves, lubricated them with cream lube, and began slowly inserting fingers into my vagina, one after another, stretching the elastic walls, exploring the depth of the vagina, plunging and pulling out, until his fist entered completely. It was painful, harsh, unpleasant, I was afraid of choking on the urine that was already streaming down my face; the fist-fucking seemed to last forever; my hands and legs bent behind my back went numb; my crotch was sore.

"Good girl, you can swallow, you've earned it. Get on your knees, I'll untie your hands," — he began massaging the numb wrists of my freed hands. He took my splattered face by the chin and spat again heartily, smearing his creation with his hand.

"I love it when a slave's face is sticky, splattered." Penetrating my mouth with two fingers, he tried to induce gagging spasms. But to no avail, I didn't yield, the gag reflex didn't manifest.

"Why are you looking at me like that, still so brazenly?"

A squall of palpable blows to my cheeks rained down on me, which only further fueled the inner fire of rebellion, stubbornness, and defiance; there were no tears, I wouldn't give him that pleasure.

Taking an anal stimulator out of his sports bag, Vladimir put a condom on it, attaching it to the floor with a suction cup.

"Get on all fours, lean on the sofa, spread your buttocks with your hands. I want to have fun with your ass, such a tight anus, need to fix that."

I won't say that anal sex appealed to me, but when a partner offered to do it, I usually didn't refuse; it brought no pleasure and no pain either.

Working my anus with his fingers, he ordered me to impale myself on the stimulator, which I did without objection; the vibrating device gave different pleasures, sharp, dark, igniting passion. Oh, how I liked impaling myself to the base, deep, with a sharp movement of my hips tearing it out of myself and plunging it in again, performing a frenzied, thrilling ride; the growing flash stretched, sharpened both body and feeling. I was on the edge, a second and my body convulses in the spasms of the arrived orgasm, immediately followed by blows of the belt on my back, coupled with this, granting indelible impressions of liberation, throwing my weakened body onto the floor.

He sat on the edge of the sofa, leaning back on the sofa back.

"Get on your knees, work with your mouth and throat, bitch."

Tired, reaching the sofa, I reluctantly began first licking his balls, the ring of his anus with my tongue, penetrating as far as its length allowed, then taking his cock into my mouth all at once to its full length. My head was fixed by his hand, stopping any movement, pressing into the skin, cutting off air access, until tears ran from my eyes and I began to suffocate. A few more such attempts and my red face, for his pleasure, turned into a scene of snot, saliva, and tears. Continuing to sit on the sofa, Vlad ordered me to lie on my back with my head towards the sofa and open my mouth wide. A new stream of rain poured into my mouth; saying, "Don't swallow" — he began spitting into the open mouth, penetrating with his fingers, mixing and smearing over my face, looking harshly into the depths of my eyes, masturbating his cock, clearly enjoying the picture of my humiliation, adding to the mixture in my mouth the thick foam of semen cream.

Now you can swallow, BITCH.