From the lead lined box

I’ve had reasons to talk about you recently. Sharing the memories and experiences of the FLR that we lived for all those years. I know my words do not really do it justice. I know they do not bring you, I, or ‘we’ to life. And that’s because I don’t want to bring those moments of you and I back to life. 

They are a part of life.

But a past life. 

The life that was you and I. 

I know each part of life we live and the people we may share it with is unique. And I also need to be open, to sharing those things because they’re a part of who I am too.

And, that’s what makes those moments as they are.

They are moments, memories in the recess of the mind. They’re the moments that are placed, like you are, into the lead-lined box that’s high up on the shelf out of reach. They’re the moments that carry such beauty and pain, of submission, service and dominance, yet carry with them the pain that makes the heart hurt in ways that it once felt that heart, MY heart, would never truly feel again. 

It is very rare that I go back there really, it’s one of those things that switches between the fondest of beautiful fucking memories, the beauty of your submission, the depths of the feelings we had to the immense pain and loss when all was lost. It is memories of one of those goodbyes in life that I think will always remain because of how hard it was, but also because it wouldn’t have been so hard if what was shared hadn’t been as it was.

In those shared moments you and I could truly be who and how we are, our needs no matter what, were there to be embraced and fulfilled. They are the moments where darkness was embraced and accepted and allowed to come out in the beautiful depraved moments explored together. 

Never made to feel less than. You placed me on a pedestal. Adored. Worshipped. You were cared for. Loved. I can still picture the marks on your skin, the way your tears would fall from the corner of your eye and track the same path down your face. I can still hear your words, your pleading, your begging, the sounds you made when your relief was granted. I recall the changing limits that grew with your trust, with your love, with your need to submit as you gave up more and more to me and which I lovingly and totally took. I can see the pain in your eyes as you watched me with him, wishing it were only you and yet accepting that it wasn’t. The twisting of your heart. The marks upon your skin. Of biting your lips, your neck. Of denying you. Of making you suffer and your suffering even more, because you know how much I needed it, yet you know you needed it too.

Yet despite all of these moments. 

Beautiful moments. 

The worst thing of all, is if I allow myself to, I can still feel the last touch, the last kiss. I can still hear the final goodbye. The last words. 

The last breath. 

The last sigh. 

The last tear. 

And that’s not fucking beautiful at all. 

And so, in that lead-lined box like a coffin you reside, because my heart can never go back there.

Because I don’t want to.  

But I still hope that maybe, one day, there’ll be an opportunity for beautiful memories and beautiful moments to be lived. With someone who has such beauty in their own submission, to feel the depths of what I know is possible, to explore and share the deepest and darkest with them and to create our own unique beautiful memories that take their own special place in the heart and in life. 

We may be able to move on from some things, we may even be able to forget others, one thing I cannot forget is who I am, how I am, and what I need. 

I truly learned all of that because of you. 

And for that, I will always share you in a way that I can. In a way, I hope my heart allows. 

With fondness, with truth, with love.

Words for the boys, I've loved. Loved enough to hurt.

Words for the boys, I've loved. Loved enough to hurt.

1. I've never forgotten all of the firsts that you and I shared. The moments, the times, the depravity, the sensuality. I'll never forget that you handed me your heart. as I shared mine. I'll never forget the look in your eyes as we twisted your heart to make it hurt, the pain, the release, the love. I'll never forget how together for so many years, we enabled each other to be the person we were, the person we needed to be, the person we are. I'll never forget all that you gave, all that you took. I'll never forget what might have been, what could have been, but was never meant to be. I'll never forget you. I'll never forget.

2. We were connected you and I, in a way that surprised us both, with a connection that kept bringing us back over so many years, even though we knew that it wasn't meant to be.  I remember the tears that fell as a result of the spanking, the paddle or the twisting of the heart. But most of all, I remember the tears that fell the day that we had to walk away, the tears that came with the final goodbye. I'll always remember that pain, a pain like no other. I'll always remember you. 

3. You're included here because I loved you enough to hurt you, the reality is that love wasn't enough. While we did so much more than fuck, you fucked it up. There's nothing else to be said.

4. Oh god. I remember the beauty of your submission.  I remember your touch, your presence, your worship.  I remember your mouth against my toes, my skin, my cunt.  I remember the hours that passed as we talked through the night, of how determined you were to never fall asleep before I, the insomniac. I remember the emotional gifts that you gave to me, the way you permitted me to leave my mark upon your skin, the way you put your life into my hands as I took the breath away from your body.  I remember your acceptance of your place within my life, as I accepted your need to submit as a cuckold boy. I can still hear you beg for me to hurt you. I can still see the hurt and pain in your eyes that filled with love, as your tears fell, while you watched he and I fuck. I can still hear you gag the first time you took his cock into your mouth after it had come from inside of me. I can still hear the words "I'm yours", the sound of your voice, the touch of your hands, the beauty of you as you lay broken at my feet and still wanted more. I can still remember the depths of your submissive self. I can remember the love you had, the love you showed, the love we shared. 

5. It infected you. It affected us. A darkness that infiltrated every pore of your being, that led you to wanting to feel pain because it was the only way you could feel. The only time you could physically feel. Emotionally feel. If love or pain was enough to have saved you, you never would have died. I will carry you with me, always.  You were the last I truly loved enough to hurt. But your going left a pain that remains with me still.  My heart carried a love for you then, it will carry it for you always. 

No idea

You had no idea as we had dressed for the evening formal dinner that this was how the evening would end.  In the days of planning, neither had I. But with everything in place, I knew exactly how the evening would pan out. I knew that we would stay for dinner, we'd have champagne and dance a little.  But I also knew that at the end of the night we wouldn't return home alone.  And I knew that what was going to be a pleasure for me, would torment you.  That what would build me, would break you.

You had no idea until you had seen us flirting over the dinner table, a dark haired, younger very handsome man with the most kissable lips. You could tell from the way I looked at them, that I wanted to devour them, to devour him.  You could tell from the way I looked at him and the way he looked at me, that there was a current of electricity, shocks passing across the table which everyone else was oblivious too.

You had no idea where we had gone when I had excused myself from the table to "powder my nose" and you had no idea where he had gone when he had left a short time after.  The bewildered look on your face when we returned together, flushed faces, and a smile on my face.  As I sat down beside you and guided your hand between my legs, you knew.  You knew what had just happened and as I placed my hand on your device I could feel your cock begin to stiffen and I knew that you knew.

You had no idea that he would be coming home with me. With us.  And you had no idea that you would be sat across the room, the same room, while I straddled him, kissed him and lowered myself slowly onto his hardened cock.  And as I took control over his cock, the speed and depth to how he entered me, I could hear and sense your humiliation as I told him how wonderful it was to finally have such a big cock inside of me, to be filled by a real man.  I knew. I knew that you were longing to be him, longing to be in that place, that you weren't jealous of him, but longed to be him.

I knew that your cock would be straining against the device I had locked you in before we had gone out for the evening. After all, I wanted you properly dressed, you looked so handsome in your dinner suit, the bow-tie, it was as much as I could do to keep my hands from you before we had left, I had teased you, tormented you, edged you until you were so aroused and then locked you away.  Laughing at your frustration.

And there you sat, across the room, witnessing him fucking me.  My kissing him, our moans and groans of passionate release as he fucked me harder, deeper, as I rode him.  All the while, you sat there watching us. Watching him. Watching me.  

We were lost in the desires, the lust of the moment, oblivious to your humiliating defeat, oblivious to the strains of your cock.  Oblivious to your burning cheeks of longing, of need, of desire, your broken humiliation as his cock filled me deeply. Oblivious to your own moans as he came deep inside of me.

And you had no idea that soon it would be your turn.  That this would be your moment of even deeper humiliation as I order you to your knees before him, to clean his cock which had moments before been deep inside me.  

And you had no idea that your humiliation would only be complete as you led on your back while I straddled your mouth and ordered you to clean me, to clean me deeply and thoroughly, your tongue recoiling at the taste of him.

And you had no idea as your tongue brought me to a shuddering orgasm that my juices, his juices would flow over your face, your mouth, and your tongue, trickling down the back of your throat causing you to gag. You were broken. Your humiliation marked by us both.

You JoJo. Had no idea.

Watching

You were watching.

But only because you had no choice.  Although you didn't want the choice. Not in reality.

You were watching.

Only because you couldn't look anywhere else.  Only because your eyes were drawn to us.  Only because you knew deep down it was what you wanted . . .to watch.

Me with him.

Him with me.

Except, you never thought that the fantasy that lay deep in the recesses of your mind would ever make their way to a reality. 

Except, you never encountered on meeting someone who would take those fantasies and bring them to life, to make them play before your very eyes.  You never believed that what was in the dark and depraved parts of your mind would ever see daylight.

They did. With me.

And here you were watching.

Fighting yourself not to watch. Fighting the feelings that were rising within you as you watched him fuck me.  As you watched me fuck him.

Your eyes drawn to the moments of lust and lasciviousness passion, your cock responding to the desire that coursed through every inch of your body.  Wanting to be him. Yet wanting to watch me be with him.  Conflicting feelings, desires, longings.

Even though I did not look at you, I knew that there was the battle going on between wanting to be there, watching us, yet not wanting to watch me be with him, or him with me.  I didn't need to look at you to see the battle playing in your mind, the battle between your darkest desires and the reality colliding like waves hitting the rocks on a shore.

But, you wanted it.

You had told me.  I had reached into the depths of your darkest thoughts, bringing them to the surface, telling you that there would be a moment when the line between fantasy would become that reality.

You hadn't known when it would be.  The plans were all made, arranged without you really knowing.  All you knew was that it would. Happen that is.  You had no idea it was going to be the night it was, not until I had whispered into your ear over dinner that tonight was the night.

We still had several courses to go, speeches too, several hours for the mind to run through a whole host of scenarios. You didn't know how.  You didn't know when.  You didn't even know who or at least you didn't until I said that we had to get going, you stood up but then he stood up too.

And you knew.  Who it was at least.

And the rest, was soon to follow.  And now you were watching.

Watching he and I fuck.  Wanting it to be you. Wanting to be there. Wanting to be a million miles away.  The lust in your eyes, the desire, the wanting, the jealousy.  A hundred and one emotions colliding inside.

And you watched.

.

A walk in the park

It is late. 

We left the party a short time ago, much later than planned. But we had been enjoying ourselves.  I had been teasing you relentlessly all evening.  The occasional whisper in your ear of what I was going to do to you when we finally made it home.

I could see the tricks your mind was playing on you. 

The fear of the unknown.

The arousal that this fear and these thoughts brought to your body; to your cock.  There was no hiding it.  And I would smile at your arousal, you would blush at the humiliation.

The streets are quiet and we walk home together, the only sound being our breathing, and footsteps upon the pavement, the heels of my boots, the sound of your shoes.  And even though it is the very late hours of the night, we take a short cut through the park.

"Come on, we will be fine. I will look after you" I say mockingly when he protests that it isn't safe to be walking through the park at this time of the night. 

"Isn't it I, who should be taking care of you?" he asks in return. 

I simply smile at him.

"Nothing is going to happen to me while I walk through the park.  However . . .who knows what will happen to you?" I laugh dismissively at him. Walking on ahead of him, as his mind plays scene after scene of all the things that could happen in the next 10 minutes from the tiniest of seeds I have just planted within his mind.

I want to hurt him. 

The beast has been prowling all night, it is desperate for escape.  I want to tease him, hurt him, mark him.  I want to hear him pleading and begging for me to stop as I scratch, twist, slap him.  Which makes me only want to hurt him all the more, just as his hesitancy right now makes me want to hurt him and I have to stop myself from doing so right there. 

I leave him standing there as I walk on ahead of him, my feet are now aching and tired.  I am needing a drink and am feeling aroused at being out in the open air.  There is something about being out in the open, the feel of the air against skin, the danger of being seen and found.  My mind drifts to thoughts of the last time we were in this park. Walking through I had sat on the bench, him kneeling between my legs, his face buried between my thighs as he brought me to an orgasm with his tonguue.  I had then made him walk the rest of the way home with my juices all over his face.  He hadn't been able to look up at anyone all of the way home for fear that someone would know what he had just done.

I smile at the memory of his humiliation.  My body reacting to the memory of the wonderful orgasm that he had brought me.  

"Will you hurry up!" I say to him, as he increases the pace of his walk to catch up. 

He seems on edge. Nervous somehow.  He looks around, not really being able to see anything in the darkness of the unlit park, but looking around anyway as if someone is going to jump out at us at any time. 

A short distance later, in the middle of the dark park, I sit down on the same bench we had before. I tell him that my feet are aching, that I need to remove my boots and that I will walk the rest of the way bare foot.  

He stands before me, and just as he leans down to unzip my boots the back of my hand comes swiftly across his face, knocking him off balance and onto the ground. 

He is stunned, shocked by the force of the slap, the few drinks he had earlier at the party rushing straight to his brain, his eyes have glazed over as I know that it hit his submissive psyche with the same force of contact that it made on his skin. 

Before he has time to recover, before he has any time to realise that we aren’t alone, that someone is behind him, grunting as they grab him by the hips and flip him over onto his stomach. He is still dazed from the slap across his face but realisation is starting to hit and he begins to lash out, trying to push this unknown person away.

He is struggling now.  Kicking. Lashing out. Trying to push him away.  He is shouting. Swearing.

A hand forces its way into his hair, pushing his face down hard into the dirt. 

He is beginning to plead now, begging to be let go, but instead he is forced further forward, a mouth full of dirt, he coughs and splutters up the bits of soil that found its way into his mouth.  

From his head, the hand slides down his back, pushing him down harder, pinning him between his shoulder blades. The other hand groping and finding their way in the dark to the top of his trousers.   

"Oh god. Please. No! Please stop!"  he begs. 

Hearing his begging; hearing his pleas goes straight to my cunt. 

But the stranger does not stop.

Instead he pulls them down harder, yanking the trousers down over his naked ass, catching them on his cock, which despite the pleas and the begging to stop is obviously aroused at the force in which he is being taken at that moment.

As the trousers reach his knees, he stops.  You are exposed.

“Please NO! No. No. . no . . .no . . . no . . .n . . . “ 

You realise you are fighting a battle that you can only lose.  You hear the stranger unzip his trousers and feel the hardness of his cock against your naked, exposed ass.  You are crying now. Slow tears beginning to fall into body wrenching sobs.

“Please don’t hurt us” 

You are pleading. 

You have no idea that I am still sat on the bench watching you.  Watching him hurting you.  I make no noise. No sound. No movement. 

Instead you begin to scream as you feel the head of his cock at the entrance to your ass.  And you scream louder still as you feel him force himself inside you.  He grunts and moans with each thrust, groping at your body, scratching you, hurting you. All of the things that I have been wanting to do to you all evening.

Your screams have turned into moans and groans. 

Moans and groans which turn into a state of arousal despite that you are there in the park, on your hands and knees being fucked in the ass by an unknown stranger. Your own cock is hard and protruding from your body.  Just as you begin to find your voice again, pleading with him to stop, he forces you down further into the ground.

He is fucking you.

Slapping you.

Hurting you.

With each thrust his grunts get louder, deeper, throatier.  You feel his body begin to spasm as you feel him come deep inside of you. 

“Noooooo . . .” you cry out “Please help  me, I am begging you to help me”

You are laid there, semi naked.

Your trousers still around your knees.  You are scared to move, scared of what may come next. Your body quivering.  You feel him move away from you as he pulls his cock from out of you.   And what seems like an eternity but is only a matter of seconds, you turn to look for me. Your mind trying to make sense of the invasion of your body. 

The stranger on the other hand, is stood in front of me. Where you had been only a short time before as you had bent to remove my boots.

I look at him.

Leaning into him as he embraces me.  My mouth making contact with his as I devour his mouth with my own.  His hands gripping my breast through the blouse I am wearing.

“I love you” he says.

I smile at him.

I look down where you are still exposed on the floor.

And then I smile at you.

Your friend. My lover.

He was your friend. 

But he become my lover. 

You invited me over for dinner. 

A special evening you had prepared to help ease and remove the stresses of the week that I had had at work. 

I had been hesitant in making the trip.  The ninety minute journey was always hard work, especially on a friday evening. But I was free the next day and thought it was an ideal opportunity to have some time out. To relax and for us to spend some time together. That it would give us plenty of time to do all what I had planned and plenty of time for you to attend to the growing needs that my arousal from our time apart had created.  

It was a couple of weeks since I had seen you.  I was looking forward to it.  I had plans for you. Plans for us.  The beast had been kept within its cage and was prowling for release. The thoughts running through my mind had only served to increase my already aroused state.  Your own arousal had built each day that you continued to be denied and locked.  

I needed some time out, I needed to be treated, pampered, worshipped. And I knew that you were more than capable of doing all of these things. 

I could have had you fuck me the minute you opened the door and let me in. 

Instead we kissed, hard. A hunger and passion growing with every lingering second.  I wanted you there and then. And my hand made its way down your body, down to your hardening cock straining in the device which it had been in for the time we had been apart. The constraints it placed upon you causing you to gasp and moan, causing me to smile and laugh at your discomfort, at your pain.

And then he caught my eye.

Sat over on the sofa, he had been watching the growing passion between us.  I stopped and smiled at him.  I was annoyed that the plans I had for the evening ahead had to be put on hold but didn't show it to him. 

You said he was your friend. 

I whispered into your ear annoyed at this outside intrusion, "He will be my lover".

You stopped, looked at me. Eyes crestfallen.

You knew I wasn't joking.

You had decided to introduce us at dinner that night.  He and I never made it to dessert. As you cleared the table after dinner, the look in your eye as you glanced over to me said it all. 

Arousal. Jealousy.

Longing. Frustration. 

I told you to close the door as you went into the kitchen.  I knew you would be straining to hear any and every noise that you may hear and that not being able to would tease, torment and torture you. Now you would suffer for making plans without checking first.

He and I had moved into the lounge.

Sitting comfortably on the sofa we chatted freely and openly, and every so often I could hear you moving around in the kitchen, hoping for any sign, any signal of what was happening behind the closed door.  I knew that you were frustrated, annoyed, and desperately wanting to know what was happening.

He was different to you in so many ways.

But there was something that attracted me to him almost immediately.  I remember noticing the slight flecks of grey appearing in his hair, brought to my attention the moment he pushed his hand nervously through it.

I could tell he was a little unsure of what was happening, knowing that something was going to, but not having any idea what would.

I shifted myself on the sofa, bringing one of my stockinged legs up so I could turn and face him. His eye was drawn to the laced top which he could see through the split which ran up my thigh in the long ankle length skirt.  His hand was resting uneasily on his leg and reaching over to it, I stroked my nails teasingly along the length of his fingers, placing my own around his fingers, I moved his hand from his own leg over onto the top of my stockings as I told him to touch me.

He looked up at me. Up at the kitchen door. Confusion clear to see on his face. 

"It's ok" I said to him.

"He already knows"

He was shaking slightly. From nerves? No, not really. More so from anticipation, from arousal, from being unsure of what I was saying to him was right. He looked at me in somewhat disbelief as his fingers traced the lace around the top of my stocking, my legs moving apart as his hand moved more forcefully between my thighs, soon discovering that I wasn't wearing any underwear. His fingers soon found their way between my legs, my own body betraying the deep arousal that I felt at his hand, at what we were doing with you only a short distance away.

The groan that escaped from my mouth caught both him and me by surprise.

He stopped.

I looked at him, demanding him to carry on. 

He teased me with his fingers, plunging them deep inside, fucking me with his hand until I came on his fingers hard, my juices running over his fingers and as I removed his hand I forced his fingers into his mouth, he licked his own fingers clean before I kissed him hard. Tasting myself upon his lips. 

His cock was hard. 

His eyes slightly glazed, his breathing deep, yet shallow. A hunger growing, a passion building.  We kissed fervently, passionately, hungrily, hands roaming everywhere, clothes being removed with haste, abandoned as they were thrown without care.  Moans and groans clearly audible mixed with heavy breathing and passionate gasps.

The kitchen door opened, you had come to serve dessert, except, I was already having it.

I was having him.

Talking...(while fucking)

The hunger is restless. 

It is like a thirst that cannot be quenched; a desire that cannot be satisfied.  No amount of masturbation can satiate the feelings that rage within, nothing which can prevent the depraved thoughts from growing in the mind. 

Depraved thoughts of you. Of me. Of many things.  Two, three, more times a day, in light, in darkness and yet it still isn't enough to calm the desire and the hunger that burns in every fibre of my being.  It still leaves me unsated. The desire, the longing, the urgent need still screaming, the hunger still restless.

So I imagine him, fucking me up and down the room, the kind of animalistic fucking where furniture goes flying, as bodies fall from one wall to another; hair pulled, face slapped, bruised, battered, bitten. Forced against the table sending the contents splaying all over the floor. Thrown against the sofa and on to the floor. Frenzied and frenetic fucking all played out before your eyes. 

His voice in my ear, talking while fucking, whispering into my ear of the things he is going to do to me, the things he is going to make you watch while he does them to me. His voice reverberating through my mind, around the room as he tells you what he is going to do to me.

And this does it to me.  It opens me. 

A voice, his words, the sound of the deep and sexy voice that has such an hypnotic effect, it enters into my head and opens me up more to him.  And he is talking and fucking. 

And you are watching still.

And without him touching me further, his words are forceful and strong, commanding and compelling, they are another implement in our pleasure, another tool in a box of so many. They penetrate my body, my mind.

And I come.

To the sound of his voice. To his words.  

And I am fucked, physically, emotionally, verbally.

My body shakes. The dampness of my skin against his from the forceful way he has taken me, he runs a fingernail down my spine, it is wet, I am wet.  And I feel naked, empty, open.

And still you watch.

He whispers into my ear, moving me down to my knees before him.

"Tell me how much you like my cock" He says. His words penetrating into my mind once more, infiltrating into the depths of me.  My own body reacting to the desire and longing from his words.

I kneel before him. His cock is hard, large, thick, I love the way the veins stand out, how it stands perpendicular to his body from where it is so hard from arousal. And as I touch it, while looking at you, I smile.

"I love it . . .I want to suck it and taste it and feel it . . ." I reply, still watching you.

You know how much I like to suck cock and yet you know that it has been so long since I have done so with yours.  And as I lean forward to take his cock in my mouth, my eyes do not break from your gaze.  I can tell that your cock is hard without being able to see it. I know that you are sat there wishing this were your cock being taken into my mouth.  I know that in the depths of your mind that you wish it was your mouth the cock was forcing its way into.  I know you are desiring, lustful, fervent, and that you are invaded by the words, aroused by what you have seen played out before your eyes.

I tease you with my eyes while I tease him, touch him, taste him.

I am taken to a place of ecstasy and surrender.  He grabs my hair, forcing himself deeper into my mouth, his grip on my hair is hard and harsh but it makes me groan from desire and want him all the more.  I am gagging now as he fucks my mouth, my eyes are no longer locked on you, they are locked on this beautiful cock and the body behind it.  And it is fervent and frenzied and it is rough and hard. And there are tears in my eyes and upon my face as he forces himself deep into my mouth and my throat.  And he is fucking me deeper and harder and I am gasping, gagging, choking, struggling for breath. And your breathing is shallow. And in the distance I hear you moan.

His voice unlocks me. Breaking the hold that he has on me.  Taking me away from the place I had drifted to. I do not hear what he says, but know that he has spoken to you.  You are blushing, humiliated at the words that he has thrown at you.  Seeing you there, like that, arouses me deeply.  I feel the hunger rising, the desire building at your discomfort, at your humiliation, yet knowing that will go straight to your cock.  Just as it goes straight to the depths of me.

He pulls me to my feet by my hair.

"Do you know how wet she is?" He asks you.  You nod, your eyes glazed with longing, with your own desire and arousal.

"I am going to turn her around and I am going to slam my cock deep into her. Hard. You love the sound of my balls slapping against her ass, don't you?"

His words, his voice and your reaction goes straight to my cunt. His words alone orchestrating the build up of another orgasm. 

And he pushes me over to the chair, where he fucks me hard, and I hear your moan as I groan at him entering me.  You are sat there watching him, watching his cock, watching me.  And I cannot get enough of him, and I want him to come in me and on me so he is there for longer, so I can feel him long after he has taken me. So you can taste him upon me long after he has gone.  And his words reverberate around inside me, and his cock is pounding into me.

And he is talking and fucking.  And you are watching. And longing. And wishing.

And I come at his words. And I come as he comes.  And as he comes he is still talking. Still fucking. And you’re still watching.

And he talked. And he fucked. And he talked while he fucked.  His voice, his words, echoing around inside the mind as he continues to whisper in my ear.  

And I beckon to you with a glance.  

There is no talking. 

There is no fucking.  

It's your turn now.