Duke is a golden retriever that once made me cum with his tongue.
I know how that sounds. It makes me shudder when I type it. Looking at this picture gives me cold chills. But beastiality is a hard limit of mine, and one that has never been violated. Now get your mind out of the gutter. It's not like that at all.
It is way better. And far worse...
It was the first night Sir had posted an ad on Craigslist offering my holes for anyone's use. That in itself was a mindfuck from hell, with Sir chatting to several men about me like I was a piece of meat. Then Eddie was the one chosen. I have written about part of that night
here.
Actually, that night has appeared a few times on this blog, all alluding to something about the dog,
Duke, but never actually explaining what happened. I always sit down to write this story, and it ends up being about something else.
A tease to keep people reading my blog hoping for more? No.
I use my writing to sort things out in my own mind. Thinking aloud. Very rarely do I draft posts, or edit them. The typos strewn throughout my blog are proof of that.
So if I have intentionally sat down several times to work out the 'story' of the dog, why do I keep avoiding it? I am doing it again right now. Does anyone else think there might be an issue here? Hmmm... Let's find out.
First the "better" part. That is easy enough to write about. It is actually funny. Then I will tackle the part that is fighting not to be written.
After the first part of the date, I was taken out to the hot tub by the men. Two other people, a man and a woman, were in there. Complete strangers to me. I was displayed nude to them in compromising positions, spanked and groped, then allowed to sit for a few minutes in the water.
I was flying in subspace following the double "rape", but the warm water started to bring me back. Introductions were made, and I learned that the other man was a transvestite. I giggled. It just seemed that the entire night kept getting weirder. I think that was probably my last coherent thought for quite a while.
I actually thought the evening was winding down. It already seemed to have gone on forever. Surely the men wouldn't continue unless these others left, right? I was very wrong.
I was used. A very rough, skull fucking, nipple torturing, ass pounding, suffocating, cunt slamming, hair yanking, screaming kind of used. Times two. Again. This time with an interactive audience. Their hands were spreading me open, holding me down. Or up. All of them talking about me as if I wasn't there. Just a body to use. Rubbing my legs, feet, pussy... And the jets. Oh, god, the jets...
So far since arriving at Sir's early that afternoon, I had pretty much been cuming constantly. I could not possibly estimate the number of orgasms I had by the time they were finished with me in the hot tub. Hundreds? Everything had completely blended together. The orgasms didn't stop even after everything else did.
Floating later in the water, splayed out like a starfish, barely hearing the drone of conversation through the sound of bubbles, completely ignored, twitching, I finally stopped cuming on my own. The water and bubbles started to bring me back. I felt as comforted as a baby in the womb. I was at peace. I started to bring my mind back.
Suddenly a long, hot tongue snaked itself between my toes on a foot that was at the edge of the tub. I came hard. Instantly. Helplessly. My brain was back and I realized it was the dog licking my foot. My body processed the sensation as pleasure. I was aware. I moaned, arched, and rode out the orgasm (orgasms?) in shame.
As soon as I could, I pulled my foot back in. It was probably only a second or two in reality, but deep in the dark parts of my mind time seemed much longer. I started to giggle again. What else could I do? It's not like everyone hadn't notice me suddenly start flopping around. We all got a good laugh, even if mine was slightly nervous laughter. Then the transvestite left and I was back to work ordered to thank the hostess of the hot tub properly.
Yes, the evening went on still, but not in this story. I was only explaining how Duke made me cum. Accidentally. That doesn't count. Right?!?!
Well, now I'm at the part I get stuck at. I could do a game show. "Let's Face That Fear." I know what I want to say. But writing it is admitting it. To myself and others. I never know what I will learn new about myself when I write something out.
You may notice I am delaying again. I just did. I don't even think I can describe the physical sensations I am feeling right now trying to type this out. Cold, creepy, crawly chills all over. And, god help me, I'm wet.
(Alright Laurie. Just do it already dammit. You have to write about the "far worse".)
After that date, Duke became a running joke. Peanut butter and rope threats were made. In fun. I hoped. Even though I was joking, too, it still made me very uncomfortable. Not because I really thought these threats were serious at all, but because I was starting to imagine it in my mind.
Bound... open... helpless... the smell of pussy and Peter Pan... That's as far as my mind would take it though. The sheer terror of that moment. An evil mindfuck indeed.
On a later
date, just me and Eddie this time, I saw Duke again. There were all of the corny jokes, and this photo was taken. It didn't bother me at all that the dog was around. Even when I saw the peanut butter and rope waiting on the spanking bench, it was all in good fun.
He wouldn't actually do that to me... would he? *nervous giggle* No, of course not. It is a hard limit. No. It is a Hard Limit. It deserves capital letters.
But I had already consented to be completely immobilized. I was here to test out his new spanking bench. I was bound tightly, and one last joke was made. The peanut butter and rope remained within reach. Duke remained in the room. I realized my possible predicament but I did not safeword. I trusted him.
After a while of some fairly extreme torture on the bench while being fucked into oblivion my mental faculties were gone. Then something reminded me of the dog. Maybe I saw the peanut butter. I don't know. Whatever it was, I wish it hadn't happened.
"Bound, screaming, raped... And Duke was always near... My mind twisting in this state starting to wonder how that tongue would feel..."
'In this state...' That's a pretty hard place to define. It is a very primal place in my mind that is in charge. All higher reasoning is gone. Acting on instinct and sensation alone, it is pure animal. Fucking and breathing are the only things that exist. After a while, even breathing is optional, and not anything I should concern myself about.
Eventually, sometimes, there comes a point when even the most basic instinct, survival, doesn't matter anymore. Picture the look in a rabbit's eyes caught in the jaws of a wolf. It struggles, then stops... resigned to its fate. It surrenders.
I can not make any decision at this time. This is where the whole trust thing is so important. I will and have consented to anything, including stretching my neck out to be sliced open, at this point. Hell, I begged a man
raping me to abuse me more. Fortunately, none of the men have followed through with their threats despite anything I may have been saying at the time.
So 'in this state' I wanted the dog to lick me. I wanted him to force me to endure that tongue on my clit. I wasn't wondering what that tongue would feel like. I was already feeling it. I was being pounded and beaten, and now my mind was imagining the added pleasure.
I have a very vivid imagination. And I was getting off on it. I was ashamed of that. Then I was getting off on being ashamed. My mind works in some pretty fucked up ways sometimes.
But thinking about something isn't the same as doing it. I keep telling myself that. No limits were broken. No harm, no foul, right? Nothing happened.
But something did happen. That door in my mind was opened and can not be closed. What has been imagined can not be unimagined. And every now and then when my mind is floating on sensation disturbing images intrude. Those momentary brief thoughts... those darkest, depraved scenes... the ones that may push me over the edge to an orgasm... and now that one is in there too.
The ultimate mindfuck is the one that doesn't end, taking you, raping you mentally over and over, harder and more degrading each time, beyond your control.
Do you feel like sometimes you want to be a little more than just half naked? A bit more than just slightly suggestive? For the weeks you want to play with the wicked & wanton crowd, feel free to join us on Wednesdays.
