*sigh*

Got busy. Got a little lazy. Was on vacation and dealing with stuff. Evidently didn't go fast enough, quick enough, although it seemed time was flying by.

"Power exchange is equality of expectations. Sir." -Maestro Stefanos

At the heart of it, this is where the majority of the issues with power exchange come from. If the expectations of timing, form, format, and many other things aren't in sync, things go out of whack. Even with communication, and being with someone who "gets" me better than nearly anyone I've ever been with, there are still many areas where this is still being discovered. I find something interesting, I start taking about it. Trying to get more info, judge reactions, see if it is with investing time and effort into exploring further. Others investigate on their own to find out and don't bring it up unless they are certain they want to do it. This is a breakdown in communication, a point where expectations are not in line. I don't know how much damage this has done, but more than I want, and perhaps more than can be fixed.

But it is a bit more understanding. And communication. So there is hope. And a motivation.

Thy Will Be Done

Willpower. When it comes down to what really happens in power exchange, the will of the dominant overrules the will of the submissive. Either through a desire by the submissive to do so or because the will of the dominant is stronger or a combination of the two. This is obviously a bit simplistic, but it holds true.

When you have an especially strong willed submissive, you often have to prove and re-prove that you have the will, desire, and are deserving to be served.When your willpower flags, the other areas also suffer. If you are asking someone to submit, to execute your desires, they will be hesitant if you don't have the willpower to do the things you have said or indicated you would. This doesn't mean it will all end if you have a flagging moment or two...skip a day at the gym or eat that jelly donut instead of the protein bar for breakfast. But if you do it often, it will definitely impact your ability to lead.

This holds especially true if your desire to enforce an area of the P/E is what flags. These relationships require diligence and hinge upon controlling the actions and behaviors of the submissive, if you lose attention or interest in this they will feel neglected and hurt that you are not performing your role. As mentioned in an earlier post , it often isn't what you do, but what you don't do that ends up hurting the relationship.

If there are things that are impacting your sense of self and your willpower, as can happen due to stress, injury or fatigue; it is important you communicate this to your submissive. Just as you would expect her to communicate with you if there is something that will impair their ability to do the things you ask and require of them. Willpower is key part of motivation and when it is lacking it can be difficult to stay attentive and to do the things you want and need to do.

I recently went through a very large conglomeration of events outside of my P/E that are taking an enormous amount of effort, time and attention to work through. All of this sapped my energy and willpower to do the things for me that were important: exercise, eat right, sleep enough, and pay proper care and attention to my P/E. Things begin to look bleak as you see things you care about not getting done, and it is a massive effort to try to work on getting things back on track. Hopefully while there is still time to repair the damage rather than trying to start over and rebuild completely.

Remember, your will drives the relationship, if it flags the relationship suffers. Stay vigilant and attentive to try and keep it from declining too much.

A Series of Unfortunate Events

This last year, short of having major medical issues with myself or a loved one, has been one of the worst a person could have. Financial, filial, and familial...if it could go wrong it has. These have been balanced against some really excellent high points as well. But, there are times when the bad outweighs the good. Couple this with sacrificing things that I should never sacrifice because of lack of times really clouds my judgement. It also can lead me to what I can only call minor depression or temporary despair. I make really stupid judgments in times like this. I say what I think and mean at the time, but if my mind was clear and thoughts weren't so down I would never actually seriously consider.

I think I need a cooling off period before/between discussions. A chance to say what is on my mind, but a few days to make sure that is what I really want/mean before a decision is made. Especially when it comes to relationship matters/negotiations/beginnings and endings. I made a really stupid mistake with a decision this weekend, that I would give damn near anything to have back. It should never have happened. At the time it was said and done, it was the truth. And it probably still is. But the wound is deep, throbbing and a constant reminder.

I should never have been in the position to begin with. I am a better person when I take care of myself first. We all are, actually. But, as many of us do, I put others and other things before taking care of what I am beginning to see as an actual need for myself. Sacrificing time that I should be putting to myself for the benefit of my job, side business, exes, and current relationships. Sure, those things needed to be done. The time was not ill-spent. But, had I kept the time for myself these last several months I would have been much better off. Some of those things maybe would have slipped a little bit, but the fact that I would have been personally better would have allowed me to make better decisions and deal with repercussions much more reliably.

I need to learn to say no to others better. Or at least to say I need to do this first, then I will see about you. Exercise is the key for me. I spent the better part of two years getting myself into shape for the first time in my life a few years ago. I was in better physical shape than I ever had been, which in turn helped me be sharper mentally, and better able to deal with many different transitions emotionally. In the last year I have sacrificed my exercise time to run errands, make sure I had more time for work, did this "urgent" thing for work, spend time with my girl. Looking back all of things would have been done. Some would have been a little late, true, but I would have been better prepared to get back ahead of them if I was at my best. And I may have had a little less time with my loved ones, but the quality of the time would have been so much better. I would have had more energy, been happier, and less prone to self-doubt.

Do what it is needed to take care of yourself first, then your energy is better spent with others after. There is nothing that cannot wait. And things will be better for it.

It's not what's done wrong, but what's not done at all

Even though I am pretty competent at the things I try to do, I screw up. A lot. Especially at the beginning, most definitely when it is something that is new to me. We call this learning. Usually, I am very good at learning new things and catch on pretty quickly. There are some areas though that, for some reason, I don't. I can't always predict which areas of life or kink those will be either. And it has virtually nothing to do with my interest in doing it. Whether it is a mental block, fatigue, eye-hand coordination, or some combination of all of those and perhaps others I struggle.

When it is just me, or something that just affects me, I have no problem trying over and over again until I work through whatever I am not succeeding in, or if I do not really have a great interest in it I just quit and move on to something else. A couple of examples: Video games..I am pretty good at strategy and world-building games but am horrible at first person shooters or any game that requires a rapid sequence of buttons or toggles to be pressed in just the right order or at just the right time. Eye-hand coordination is not my forte. So, I don't play the latter and get great pleasure from the former. In kink, it would be rope. I love rope. I run into the same issues with eye-hand coordination as I do with video games. But, I enjoy it enough that I am willing to keep trying and tying over and over again until I can get the ties and knots to work and build enough muscle memory and coordination to overcome my lack of natural talent in that area. It can be frustrating when others learn faster, but not enough to completely discourage me.

When it involves my interaction with others however, those failures loom in my mind. They shake my confidence and self-center and can be crippling if there are a few (or several) in a row. If a scene doesn't go as planned, if I cause pain in a way that wasn't intended, or a scene gets ended early; it weighs on me. It makes me hesitant to try again, to get back on the horse as they say. It is a negative feedback loop that is very hard for me to shake myself out of at times.

However, there are worse things that I do. Even if a scene doesn't go perfectly or gets ended early, it was still a scene. There was probably still some enjoyment, some success in the attempt. Where I truly fail is the intentions. I hint at or say I may do things, sometimes playfully, often without thinking. Or worse, say I intend to so something and then the time arrives and for some reason or other do not follow through. Sometimes the occasion is overwhelming and I should have known ahead of time there would be too many things going on. Other times I am tired or mentally drained and know it would not go as planned (and knowing my anathema to failure it seems better to not try than try and have a good chance of limited success). And, every once in a while, I just forget.

That is the real power exchange killer. The build-up with no follow through. On occasion it would be okay, especially if there was a concrete time set to follow-up on it. Too often and it makes it difficult to trust that what is said will be acted upon. Consistency with intent is key. Don't say it unless you mean it, and if you mean it make damn sure you do it. There is no partial credit, there are no ribbons for participation; but showing up and putting in some effort at least shows you intended to do it much better than not trying at all.

Service before self-sufficiency.

One of the key areas of a power exchange relationship is service by the submissive. I enjoy being served, I really do. It is very pleasant to be waited on hand and foot and have things done for me. Having my meals prepared for me, refreshments delivered.

But this is a problem area for me as well. I get great satisfaction from being very self-sufficient and doing as many things as possible myself when I am able to do so. I am in the habit of just doing things. If I am thirsty and not engrossed in something...get up and get a drink from the fridge. This has led to some serious unintentional undermining of the dynamic. How can she serve if there is no service to be delivered?

It is something I struggle with, but now that it has been brought (again) to my attention, I intend to work to rectify this. I trust her. I love her service. If I tell her to do something, I know it will get done. I just have to let go of the impulse to do it myself. Oddly, to me, she provided great examples in discussion this weekend where in a group or among other friends I have very little difficulty in giving it up. I evidently have a habit when out with others or around others of making the request just fine and then getting back to whatever else I was doing, assuming it would be done. Which is as it should be. I just was not consciously aware of how often I did it. Perhaps the distraction of being around others was enough to override the desire to just do it myself. 

I just have to remember to do it when alone. When the service can be appreciated more. We both know I can do it myself. That is part of what makes the service rewarding. By trusting her to get it done as well, or in many cases better, I am allowing her to serve and showing I know she is capable and deserving to do so.

Just one of the many things in my perception that needs constant minding to be aware. She serves by choice, rewarded through that ability to serve, and when I take away the ability/need for service, I diminish the capacity to do so and the power exchange that is needed and desired in the relationship. Continued service is rewarding; but if there is no way to serve, there is no reward.

Starting up (again)

So, I haven't actually recorded anything here for years. Just published some stories recently. (And by recently, I mean 18 months ago). A friend has recently restarted her blog, so I thought I would go ahead and give some of my thoughts here. We shall see how much time I have to put things here. It will probably end up being the random ramblings of the journey in BDSM that I am on. :) Science knows, I could use someplace to put my thoughts so I can start getting some clarity and order at times.

Patrice and the Wolf (The Girl Who Cried Wolf)

Wulf College, nestled in the heart of the Midwest, was like many other private liberal arts colleges.  It had great programs, lots of prestigious graduates, and opportunities galore upon graduation for its top students. It also was located in the middle of nowhere, miles from any major city, and infinitely quiet. Very little of import or excitement happened in the area except for the occasional run at the state title for the local high school sports teams.  Patrice Shepherd was out to change all of that.

Journalism major, writer, and editor for the College newspaper, Patrice was tired of running the same old opinion pieces and the local community highlights.  College was supposed to be exciting, with lots going on. Besides, how was she going to get noticed at Northwestern or Columbia if she didn’t have any breakout stories? The plan started simply and grew, as these things will, faster than she thought and soon took on a life of its own.

The first article was rather simple and mostly harmless. A little write up about the rise in popularity of slash fiction and its prevalence in the histories of the browsers on the library computers and references to what may or may not be going on in the “quiet” study rooms. A few surreptitious visits to the lab before the article went to print and some older panties “hidden” in the folds of the upholstery ensured there was plenty of evidence to support her story. Of course, as editor, she had to protect the identity of her new investigative reporter so it was published under the nom de plume, Prudence Goodhope.

The response was immediate and better than she hoped. Letters to the paper actually started coming in and space was given over in the editorial for a special run of them. The missives, of course, ran the gamut from those supporting the right of people to read what they wanted, mild confessions of acts done in the library, and the predictable outcry from the conservatives about needing blocks on the library computers and full-time security patrols to prevent this outrageous desecration of a place of quiet contemplation and study. Patrice was almost beside herself with glee.

Prudence became a featured piece in each weekly edition, with either an opinion column or an investigative article.  Sometimes they were actually real and mostly true, like the use of “pink slime” in the meatloaf served by the school dining hall. As Prudence’s reputation grew and the response to her articles and presence on the newspaper’s website increased as well, Patrice realized she had a campus celebrity as her alter ego with some growing influence and clout. People actually looked forward to the articles and followed through on some of the suggestions made.  After writing an editorial about civic responsibility and helping care for the world around them, she actually saw people going out of their way to grab trash on the campus green to put it in the recycling bins, and realized it had been days since she had seen anyone just casually littering.

Of course, realizing this newfound power gave Patrice a new idea and aspect to her plan.  Why stop at just helping open people’s eyes to what was going on around them? Her original intent was to follow in the steps of William Randolph Hearst and not just report the news, but make the news. To add a little bit of excitement to campus and stir things up a bit.  It was time to really start to stir things up, and right some wrongs along the way.

Her first target was Dr. Fullman, the English professor. She had disliked him from the first day of British Lit and just knew he had been constantly ogling her and the other female students during every class. He was blunt, old, opinionated, and worst of all, had the audacity to actually give her a B. The story would be Prudence’s finest to date, but required some careful planning and stealthy “investigations”. Some late night visits to the English department after hours, a few carefully named computer folders, and a protected internet browser history were all she needed.

“Child Pornography in the English Wing”, the headline read. When the article went live the response was impressive. The article never named Dr. Fullman directly, but there were enough inferences that people who knew him could figure out the identity.  The school administrators acted swiftly, as she knew they would. She was there with her trusty camera to snap pictures as campus security went to his office, grabbed his computer and a box of stuff from his desk, and escorted him off campus to be placed on Administrative Leave pending a full investigation. She gleefully read the reports as they found several files of pictures and videos of children, an active browser history to sites like NAMBLA.org, a travel brochure to Bangkok and, the coup de grâce, several pictures of a little girl in various states of undress. No one even noticed how the eyes were the same shade and shape as those of the campus newspaper editor.

Emboldened by the success of her attack on Dr. Fullman, she began to turn her plan towards not just her personal enemies, but the enemies of higher education everywhere. Eta Omicron Epsilon sorority was first. It didn’t matter they had rejected her as a pledge when she was a freshman. She was glad they had now after seeing how they promoted the party lifestyle and practically threw themselves into the arms of any halfway attractive male on campus and being the sorority of choice for most of the female athletes and cheerleaders. All it took was some reporting of hazing rituals, a few spiked drinks causing trips to the hospital for a stomach pump, and some cellphone pics of the sorority president making out with a freshman pledge and Prudence’s story was enough to get them put on probation with a complete ban on alcohol and parties. Patience was especially glad she had gone blonde for a semester that first year and had been a bit of a shutterbug even then.

College athletics was next in her sights. They kept getting money that could go to academic programs; overpaid coaches, expensive workout facilities, lavish travel and food expenses for the athletes. Her target of choice was the Men’s Swimming and Dive team in the persona of their junior Captain, Siegfried Thorson. Sig was the epitome of the college athlete: bright, great GPA, ambitious, determined, and the body of the God his surname and heritage came with. He was lean, muscular, blonde-haired, blue-eyed and quick with a joke and a smile. He also had a dark side he kept from all but the closest friends. A dark side she knew all too well because she had introduced him to it and traveled it with him while they dated last year.

You wouldn’t know it to look at her, with her Midwestern looks and demure sense of style, but Patrice was a kinkster. More than that, she was very familiar with many aspects of BDSM and enjoyed most of them. She had experimented before Sig and when their relationship started getting serious, she introduced him to some of the things she enjoyed. From there, they began exploring together and trying out new and more things. He fell into a dom role easily and was a passable sadist, if a little too cautious sometimes. She had been tied, wrapped, spanked, flogged, caned and many other delicious things.  There were days after a weekend with Sig she had been unable to sit (except as a reminder of the sting of the implements) and had to wear long shorts and skirts to hide the bruises that served as her marks of honor.

She especially remembered one glorious night where he had shackled her to the wall and worked her over. He used chains to attach her ankles to a spreader bar and her hands were pulled above her until she was nearly suspended. As he blindfolded her he teased with a harsh whisper, slowly telling her all the things he was could do to her until her panties were soaked with her juices. 

He left her in silence, her mind rushing with thoughts of what was coming. Then she felt the bite of a cold metal edge as he slowly slid it along her shoulders, felt the quick snap and release of pressure as he sliced through first one and then the other bra strap with what had to be a knife. He moveed it gently back and forth letting her feel the flat, the point and the edge for what seemed like an eternity until with a gentle sawing motion she felt her breasts spill free as he severed the strap across her back.

She felt his hands on her, massaging the marks in her fair skin left by the undergarment then moving around to caress and tease her. He caressed, tickled, kneaded and pinched every inch of her breasts in just the way he knew would arouse and torment her. Finally, her nipples hard and protruding, she felt a last pinch and the warm hands were gone. Seconds later she gasped as she felt the cold steel of the knife as it was drawn across and around her areola. It traced the curve of her waist and hips and she felt her panties loosen and fall as he cut through the last of her clothing.

Casting the knife aside, he started with his hands, gently working her buttocks and thighs with ever more powerful smacks interspersed with some light soothing rubs and the gentle tease of a finger along her labia or diddling her clitoris. As the warmth became constant and spread across her cheeks and thighs, he stopped and she felt a narrow band wrapped around her waist and each thigh causing her to shudder in anticipation. She heard a familiar buzz then nearly came when she felt the vibrator settle against her clit and upper labia.

“Oh gawd,” she thought. “He’s using the Hitachi!”

As the vibrations sent pulses of pleasure into her, she knew it wouldn’t be long for her to fall into the throes of orgasm. As always, he read her mind and body with expert ease.

“Don’t you dare cum until I tell you to, slut,” he growled next to her ear.

He followed this with a sharp crack to her thighs from what felt like her 4-inch paddle. The heavy wood thudded again and again against her buttocks and legs, occasionally sliding between to tease its edge along her engorged labia before striking the insides of her thighs sharply. Teasing her more and more until the pain and the pleasure were nearly unbearable.

“Please, sir, please…may I cum?” she whimpered, her body nearly twitching with the strain of holding back the impending waves.

“I don’t think so. I am not nearly done with you. And, if you cum without permission you know your ass is mine.”

The thought alone was almost enough to send over the edge. She nodded her head in acceptance knowing that if she failed she would be invaded by a plug, his cock or both in succession. As if knowing how much the thought was turning her on, she felt the vibrations increase as he adjusted the speed of the Hitachi. As his fingers began running along her lips, gently playing with the folds and the entrance to her soaked and dripping pussy she knew it was a battle she could not win.

“Please, sir, I am begging you. Please?” she plead through clenched teeth and she knew it was too late as she couldn’t even hear his answer over the rush of her delayed orgasm. She collapsed against the wall, her body supported by the shackles around her wrists as she moaned and gasped. Her body lit up with pleasure and she felt her pussy spasming around the finger still buried in her quim. As it subsided, she knew it was going to be a powerful night.

True to his word, she felt his fingers on her anus spreading it with lubrication for the invader. She felt the cool silicone of the plug as it was inserted, stretching her until she was completely filled and then locking in as she closed around the base. She moaned softly as she adjusted to the sensation of being filled completely.

“I warned you what would happen, my little slut, and now please work a little harder to contain yourself,” he warned with a sharp slap across her ass.

He began once more with the paddling, every causing the plug to shift in her ass sending sensations of pleasure along every nerve ending chasing the pain from the impact. She concentrated on the sensations, feeling each blow as it spread from a powerful thud to her ass or thighs, the warm tingle as the heat spread out from the point of impact and then the tingle of pleasure from her ass and throbbing vibrations on her clit and pussy.

He kept it up the unpredictable rhythm, forcing her body to react to his will. He switched from the paddle to a nice heavy flogger, which deliciously spread the impact across her entire ass and occasionally the now dripping lips of her engorged vulva. His whims were unpredictable as well, sometimes allowing her to cum as she asked other times making her wait until she thought she thought she would succumb again without his permission.

The blows continued to rain across her back, ass and thighs until she was riding the waves of pleasure and pain like a surfer on the face of the ultimate tube.

Just as she felt she would no longer be able to stand, the pressure on her wrists let up and she felt his hands supporting her as she was lowered to the ground. He removed the harness next; her clitoris still feeling phantom pulses for a few moments after the Hitachi was removed. The shackles were released from her ankles as well, but she knew it was not yet over.  He quickly positioned her on her knees and elbows, plugged ass to the sky. Not bothering to remove the anal invader she felt his hands on her hips and the full head of his firm cock press against the entrance to her waiting cunt. With one firm thrust she felt him bury himself to the hilt, his pubic bone crashing into the plug and his balls lightly slapping against her cum-soaked thighs. He kept one hand pressed to the base of her spine and the other moved up to entwine itself into her hair as he pulled her back and she felt his mouth hungrily searching for hers as he continued to see saw back and forth in her grasping sex.

“Oh. Fuck. Fuck! FUCK! Don’t. Stop. Fuck. Ing. Me! Yeeeaauuugghhhh!” She screamed as the next orgasm overtook her, her staccato sentences coming in the brief space between this thrusts slamming into her.

Her twat spasmed around him in the most powerful orgasm yet; gripping and pulling against his thrusts, increasing the friction and sensations, extending and layering in a rush of stomach clenching pleasure. The latest had barely subsided when the next began and it wasn’t long before his tempo slowed and he moved his hands to her shoulders using them for leverage to pull her back onto him, his breathing heavy and a deep guttural moan accompanying each thrust. With a final lunge and incoherent shout, he buried himself deep in her sex, his cock erupting as he released himself inside her still twitching cunt. He held her there for a few moments before they both collapsed to the floor and he gently slid her blindfold off.

Recalling how great it was fucking him, she almost regretted what she was about to do to him. The feeling passed quickly when she remembered how he had dumped her and added insult to injury by dating that slut from the sorority. She had plenty of pictures and video evidence to support her story and since she still had his Fetlife password.  It was just a matter of picking some of the most graphic ones, a few tweaks to his profile, and loading some info to the page and the article practically wrote itself.

“The Tarnish on the Golden Boy” the article read. Copies flew off the shelves as the expose was published.  The Athletic Director launched an investigation and with all the breadcrumbs in the article it was less than a day before Sig was suspended from the swim team pending an investigation for allegations of violations of the ethics and role model clause of the college’s athletic teams. They also launched a full scale investigation of the rest of the team to determine if it had been something the entire team participated in. Patrice was almost giddy at the response and felt an evil glee at the sanctions brought against him.

A few weeks after the article launched the investigation into swimming and peripherally all the other athletic programs at the school, things had started to calm down a bit.  The entire campus was getting ready for a small break and the students were preparing for the annual “Beauty and the Beast” masquerade ball. It was tradition that the effeminate people would show up in evening wear with a traditional eye mask while the dominate and masculine would arrive in some sort of animal mask, with most choosing the wolf for obvious reasons.

As much as she loved her work, Patrice was actually looking forward to being able to just let her hair down and show up somewhat anonymously.  By rule, there were no couples allowed at the ball. Everyone had to arrive separately, although serious couples always made sure they could identify their dates by their mask. It was a chance for most to just show up and dance with a variety of partners and forget the world outside for a bit. Patrice had a great dress picked out in a gorgeous scarlet that even featured a mock hood to mimic Red Riding Hood. She thought it appropriate since she had helped take out so many wolves this semester.

The night started off well with many wolves offering to dance with her and the drink was flowing freely.  She was really relaxing and getting into the music on the floor when an incredibly shaped wolf asked her to dance.  She could feel his rock solid muscles beneath his jacket and the breadth of his shoulders was impressive.  They danced to a club number and then he offered to fetch her another drink as the next song was queued up. Feeling a bit thirsty after the quick pace of the song, she gratefully accepted.

He returned soon after with two drinks and they gulped them down before beginning to dance to the ballad that soon began to play. As they were dancing, she let him lead and he was a nearly effortless dancer.  They began to move and twirl around the other couples as the dance went on and she got a little brave and more comfortable with his lead. Another ballad followed, and being slower, he pulled her in close for the song.  She rested against his shoulder as they sashayed around the dance floor and she realized she was suddenly very tired.  She turned to mention to him that they may want to step out to get some air when everything went black.

Patrice woke up with a dull ache in her head and feeling like she had eaten a bale of cotton. She ran her tongue across the roof of her mouth, testing the feel of sandpaper to make sure it wasn’t really there. She reached up to rub her eyes as she was blinking them open and realized with a start that they weren’t responding.  Groggily she lifted her head and saw in the dim light that her hands were secured at the wrist to whatever she was laying on. Panicking, she tried to lift herself off and realized she was secured not just by her wrist, but by her ankles and straps across her body as well.  She struggled uselessly for a few moments until she was out of breath and covered in a sheen of sweat. It was only then she realized she was completely naked.

“AAAAUGH! Help! Help! Where the fuck am I? Can anybody hear me?” she screamed.

A low chuckle greeted her. “Well, Patrice…or should I call you Prudence? You are quite out of range of any help and I know you aren’t getting out of those restraints until I want you to be out of them,” a deep male voice greeted her.

“You bastard, you won’t get away with this! I know people, and I will get away!”

He laughed again, deep and low. And to her growing horror, she heard others slowly join in. Some high, some low, a few even sounded like women. She realized she wasn’t dealing with just one person, but many. More than she could identify by voice. She barely stifled a scream as terror at her predicament settled in. She wildly scanned the room, trying to make out the shapes in the shadows whipping her head back and forth until she was dizzy.

“Oh yes, there are many people you have offended and angered the last few months…Prudence. It is going to be a very long night for you, I am afraid,” the voice chuckled.

As it finished, she saw one of the shapes move in closer and she mad out the mask of her last dance partner. With a start, she realized the voice was lower and slightly metallic…he was using a voice modulator under his mask. Her gaze wandered lower and she saw that he was completely naked. Even in her state of terror, she couldn’t help but notice how perfectly proportioned his body was and, oh my, how large his gently undulating dick was. She was absolutely mortified, but still could feel a slight stirring as she imagined what that beast would feel like buried in her pussy.

“Well, well,well. It appears Sig was telling the absolute truth about you,” he said as he noticed her gaze on his member, and with a start she realized her tongue was unconsciously moving across her lips. “Don’t worry, you will get a chance to see what I can do with this soon enough,” he laughed. “But not just yet. I think. We will start with something a little more manageable.”

He waved his hand to someone outside the circle of light and to her surprise a woman moved forward. She couldn’t tell who she was, but like the man she was completely naked except for a mask. She was carrying something that Patrice strained to see and identify. With a start, she realized it was a harness with a dildo attached. As the realization of what that would mean for her, she began struggling once again.

“Knock it off, bitch. You and I both know you have wanted to be fucked by me since you first saw me. You wouldn’t be so wet if you didn’t know it to be true,” an unidentifiable voice came from the mask. Patrice then became aware that, in fact, she was quite wet and her clit was engorged and starting to peak out. Still she fought through the betrayal by her body.

“Don’t fucking touch me, you cunt. I will find you out and there will be no end to the hell I will put you through.”

Another laugh from the crowd was the only response she got. As the woman arrived at the table Wolf, as she was beginning to think of him, began playing with her nipples. “Your voice says no, but your body says yes,” he teased as her nipples hardened under his caress. She tightly shut her eyes and tried to move from his caress, but the bonds were too tight and she was forced to endure it as her body reacted of its own volition.

She thought the woman would immediately begin violating her with the strap on but instead she moved to the side of the table and placed the dildo to her lips. “Suck it. You better lube it up nice, because I am going to take you good and hard.”

Staring through dilated pupils, Patrice locked eyes with her assailant and realized she wasn’t lying. She opened her lips and the dildo was forced slowly past her lips. She moved her tongue over and around the man-made cock making sure it was covered in her own saliva, fearful for what the woman was going to do.  It was slowly thrust in and out until she could take the entire length in her mouth and it was slick with her self-generated lubrication.

“Good work, bitch. I think you may even have liked that,” she heard as a hard slap was delivered across her face.

Jarred by the hit, there were a few moments as her head cleared and Patrice realized the woman now had the dildo hanging in front of her and was positioning herself over Patrice’s spread pussy. She once again threw herself at her bonds, eyes wide with terror as the total reality of the situation set in. She heard a cackle from the woman as she realized she couldn’t even move.

“Nooooo, oh gawds, noooo,” erupted as a hoarse scream from her as the artificial prick settled against her betraying wet labia and the dildo slid slowly into her twat.

Under the constant play on her nipples and the new in and out of the dildo in her pussy the treason of her body was complete. She felt herself responding and a low moan escaped her involuntarily as she felt a finger working her clitoris as the dildo aroused her further and further. When she opened her eyes again, they were glazed with lust as her mind shut down and she succumbed to the desires of her body.

More hands joined the wolf’s on her body as the woman kept up her constant rhythm in and out of her twat, building her unerringly towards orgasm. She felt the straps on her ankles loosened and her knees were bent to her chest.  Fingers teased her clitoris, labia and asshole while the dildo continued its assault.  Just as she felt the onrush of her orgasm, everything stopped. The hands were gone and even the dildo was pulled out as the woman jumped off and moved away.

“Wha? What is happening?”

“You are really enjoying yourself, Patrice. Am I right?” the wolf chuckled.

“Please, I am so close, please...” she begged.

“Not yet, you will be allowed release when I am ready for it. Who are you?”

“Patrice…Patrice Shepherd.” She replied confused.

“Who else? I know you have an alias..” he prompted as his fingers gently played in the 

folds of her pussy, keeping her aroused, but not letting her get any closer to orgasm.

“Prudence Goodhope…I wrote all of her articles.”

“Is that all? Are you sure that is all you have pretended to be?” His fingers danced up to her clitoris tweaking and pinching it, bringing her so close.  She fought and tried to resist, but she was so close it was maddening not being able to cum.

“No, no…what do you want? I also pretended to be Sig Thorson and I set up a Fetlife account for him!”

“What else, confession is good for the soul, Patrice.” He began slowly inserting one finger in her vulva, thrusting it in oh, so slowly and then pulling it out again, taking what seemed like minutes for each stroke and letting her feel every millimeter of his digit.

“I did it all, just please let me cum! I put the files on the professor’s computer and the library computers and that was me with the HOE president! Please, please may I cum? Sir?”

“Oh, I think that is what we were all waiting for, slut,” he said as she realized too late there was a blinking red light in his hand and the video camera clicked off. She heard a chuckle as he continued, “Sig was telling the absolute truth when he told us about your depravities. Alright boys, I think she is ready.”

Patrice saw several men in masks appear out of the shadows as the signal was given.  She felt a cock position itself at her cunt and begin thrusting in and out as another was place against her lips.  She couldn’t even begin to count the hands that were roaming over her body, tweaking her nipples, caressing her tits and pinching her clitoris and labia.  She surrendered to the sensation and felt her first orgasm crash over her just as the dick in her mouth began to unleash a stream of cum across her tongue and into her mouth.  She swallowed it wantonly and desperately chased every last drop with her tongue, lapping it clean. Her cunt pulsed around the cock buried in her and milked it to orgasm just as hers was beginning to subside.

As soon as he pulled out someone else grabbed her calves and she felt her feet placed on someone’s shoulders. He plunged quickly into her depths, pounding into her. She moaned and reached her hands for more dicks near her still bound hands as another member was put in front of her face.  She snaked her tongue out and licked the underside of the scrotum and teased up the shaft as far as her limited mobility would allow before it was thrust into her mouth. Her tongue worked the shaft over and over as it continued its thrusting in and out.

She moaned around the rock hard dick and began stroking the other cocks as they came near her hands.  Fingers continued to play over her body and continued to pinch and knead her clitoris and some even began to probe her willing ass. She felt the man between her legs stiffen as he came in her and he moved away and quickly was replaced by another. The night became a blur of different men and cocks, everyone disguised by a wolf mask. Some were thick, some thin, long and short. Some guys lasted barely a few strokes and some lasted so long she came more than once while they were in her. She lost count of the number of guys who used her dripping cunt and begging mouth.

Wave after wave of orgasm washed over her and she was so lost in the feelings she was begging to for more and at one point knew she had every orifice filled and her hands were still roaming over more dicks, stroking them off and even finding and playing with a few willing and offered pussies. The orgy continued into the night until she eventually passed out in a cum soaked mess of quivering orgiastic orgasmic bliss.

The next day she woke up on the floor of her own apartment, completely clean, but still naked. Recalling the night before she was surprised she was not stiff with dried semen. Feeling her body to make sure everything worked, she found a not taped to her abdomen.

“Remember it all, slut. We do and we have the proof. A retraction will be printed, or the President will have a very special video delivered.” She shuddered involuntarily as she remembered everything that happened and realized she had unconsciously slid her fingers to her vagina and was lightly running her fingers along her labia as she emerged from her reverie.