topthemonkey: (Default)
I've now seen both my new psychiatrist and therapist. The former I found through the National Coalition for Sexual Freedom's Kink-Aware Professional Database. The therapist was recommended in turn by the psychiatrist and though she's not in the database, she should be. I'm immensely pleased with both of them.

For the first time in many weeks (months?) I went down on the Top and he finished in my mouth.

I've been rather gun-shy about this act ever since I puked on his dick when trying desperately to swallow.
But this went much better.

He held my head down and had me on a leash, which he pulled; both of these things really help me get into it.

My jaw didn't bother me at all, thankfully. I've been using a device to stop my grinding at night, which has helped.

Ever since he stopped drinking coffee, the Top's semen has tasted vastly less foul. Hardly foul at all, in fact.
I was downloading some of Violet Blue's podcasts and came across this, which I'd like to try. Or rather, I'd like the Top to try it. Right now I'm menstruating and no amount of fruit smoothie is going to make menstrual blood taste yummy.

As per the directions in the podcast, here are the ingredients for the Super Spunk Smoothie (it works with all genders) -- drink for three days and avoid the things I mention in the podcast, though skipping asparagus is a no-brainer...

Super Spunk Smoothie
1 cup pineapple, fresh, canned or juice
1 cup mango juice
1 banana
1/2 cucumber, peeled and seeded
1/2 tsp fresh ginger
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
2 Tbs honey

Blend all ingredients in a blender until smooth. Drink immediately. Repeat daily (and perform your own scientific oral sex taste tests) for best results!

topthemonkey: (disappointed virginity)
The Top, while I was jerking him off: You have until the count of 10 to get me off and if you don't then it's going in your mouth.

*counts to 10, hasn't come*

The Top: Get down there.

I put my face closer to his crotch and open my mouth. My jaw cracks, loudly, several times as I do.


The Top: Was that your jaw?

Me:   Um, yes, sir.

The Top: OK, go back to jerking me.
topthemonkey: (Default)
Note: Yes, I am still gender-switching with pronouns describing the monkey. Sometimes I refer to my monkey as "he", sometimes as "she". I realize this is frustrating to read, so I'm trying to at least keep paragraphs consistent. I am writing from the first person, so there shouldn't be much confusion, and there are only two people in our play sessions, the monkey and myself, and with regard to anyone else, I will refer to them by name or initial. Nuff said!

On a side note, if anyone wants to invest in a really nice spanking bench for not a lot of money, I highly recommend this:

The monkey pointed out last night, after a night of fairly intense play, that I need to update this more.

After which a) I suggested that I bitch-slap the monkey for his impudence, b) the monkey mentioned his dislike of the word, as well as the fact that slaps are only for true punishment and c) I discovered that he has a magazine, titled "Bitch" that I could roll up and wail on his behind ad infinitum, thus rendering a completely politically and contextually correct bitch slap with no vocabulatorical worry; I realized the monkey was right. I do need to update more. So I am. Here you go, you stylish readers.

Some might find it odd that in my panic room, along with the recently added eye bolts in the floor, in the ceiling, and such, I've now assembled a large petco-variety dog cage. Some might also find it odd that for The Monkey, this is a safe place to go, a relaxing place where she is free to be a sub with no responsibilities other than to just be a sub in a cage. I regret that I haven't had enough time to properly cage the monkey as much as either of us would have liked. The reason for this may be detailed in another post, but it relates to another person in the house.

There is one other problem worth mentioning in this equation: The last time the monkey came to me, he left his toys at home. Given, the monkey only *thought* he was coming out to a medical appointment with me. Which means as much as I might have wanted to see him properly ball-gagged, butt-plugged, or hasn't been happening (my vehicle is currently in the shop, and monkeys cannot drive).

But this entry is mainly to think about the events of last night. After reading in a friend's journal the benefits of Fisting, and knowing the monkey has expressed an interest, I decided this might be the evening for it. As I've never attempted such a feat with anyone else (although I can think of two other girls who might have enjoyed or had the capability for it), I decided to do at least a little research and found This Howto.

The evening started easily enough. I had the monkey strip to his underwear, and put his packing dildo in, which (okay, I admit it) really turns me on, and locked him in my favorite set of red cuffs, and then, over his ankle socks, I snapped a standard set of police leg irons. A blindfold completed the gear, for the moment.

I ordered the monkey to stand on the bed, palms against the wall, leaning as far down as possible, and took out the crop. I started very lightly, taking to her with controlled sets of three strokes, all over the body, stopping in between to hold her, making sure everything was okay. At some point, I loosely buckled *my* ball-gag onto her, which is normally too large for her to take due to TMJ/TMD. After six such sets, I switched over to the lucite rod, and again, started lightly, but built in the same controlled sets. After each set, the monkey was allowed to ask if she could move, and often did, curling up against me, cringing from the pain until ordered into position again.

The last set, she was very, very unsure of, feeling scattered and on edge, but I kept insisting, telling her that she needed to trust me. She took position and I delivered three very light taps. As she laid down on the bed, she told me "That was pathetic". I invited her to go for another round, but she didn't seem interested and her mood seemed a little bit broken, so I turned out the lights, and we cuddled for a bit, her head on my chest, and all her gear still locked on.

About 20 minutes later (I am guessing), I ordered the monkey to get me a set of gloves (recent hospital discharges rock for free medical gear), and after she had gotten into position on her back...

[at this point, gentle reader, I must take pause to remark on why I don't put nearly as much time into writing these entries as I could be...but the past few hours (today, the day after the events in this entry) have been very nice, and will likely be another entry entirely]

...and after he had gotten into position on his back, I greased up my right hand glove with Astroglide, and inserted four fingers of my hand into him (he was already quite wet), pressing firmly, pausing, massaging what I could reach on the inside (more fingers tends to limit the mobility one has less than if one has, say, a single finger), and massaging the clit on the outside. It took about twenty minutes.

At the apex, my hand was mostly curled into a fist, pulsing and flexing gently and all the knuckles of my fingers were inside her. My thumb was in up to the point where the trapezium meets metacarpal I (just to the last knuckle where the thumb meets the hand). I feel I was pressing too intensely, but she claims the pain was only minor. Afterwards, I removed my hand as slowly and as gently as I could. I have every intention of being inside her to the wrist, now. It's only a matter of time.

After I withdrew, I tried to taste her to go down on her, but the astroglide just tasted god-awful, and hey, not having to do things you don't want to is a privilege of those on the looped end of the leash.

He curled up against me, again, and began masturbating. I held him tight, talked him off, told him all the fantasies I had for him, wearing a welded steel collar and cuffs, everywhere. Being marked. Being owned. Being beaten not because he had done something wrong, but simply because I could. Being chained up to sleep. Being fitted with a zone collar. All the things that make him feel warm and fuzzy inside. He approached orgasm, and asked me, softly: "May I, Sir?" To which I assented, and he came, shivering against me.

Of course, after that, as she was satisfied, I had her go down on me, which was also quite nice. She swallowed most of it, and afterwards, being both tired, and post-orgasmically-snarky, we decided we were both hungry, so I removed her leg-irons and we went downtairs and pigged out on ice cream. We came back up and curled up next to each other to sleep, her head on my shoulder, purring softly.

This morning, I was given the highest of compliments: "Last night was really nice."


topthemonkey: (Default)

October 2012

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