Sex with The Pedant really has gotten exponentially better since we made an explicit agreement that he would take orders from me. And I’d been enjoying myself quite a bit before…

He just spent a couple of days here. When he first arrived, we got to canoodling in my front hallway almost immediately. He must have been pretty horny or in the right headspace or whatever because right from the getgo he was moaning and melting under my touch in the way that I love.

A day or two before, I’d invited him via text to let me know of any fun BDSM ideas that have been appealing to him lately and I might (might) incorporate them into our play. I was clear that I call the shots and will choose what happens, but that I’m open to input. He said he’d let me know, but never did tell me anything.

Once he’d arrived and we were making out, though, he started breathlessly telling me things between kisses:

“I’m sure you noticed how much I enjoyed being strung up in your hall last time” – that was when I attached the wrist cuffs to the eye screws I’d just put in the walls – “you can feel free to do that to me again.” And, a bit later: “If I bought a vibrating cock ring would you string me up and use it on me? …I thought you might enjoy watching me shudder…”

It took me a moment to process what he meant because to my knowledge, a vibrating cock ring is meant to go around the base of a dick in order to stimulate the clitoris of someone doing PIV with that person. I’m fairly sure devices exist that attach to a person’s dick for the purpose of stimulating said dick, but I feel like they’re called something else. Anyway, it was clear from context that The Pedant was basically talking about me giving him forced orgasms via some sort of hands-free vibrator, and I am very much down with that idea. In fact, every orgasm I subsequently had this visit was at least partially inspired by the mental image of him blindfolded and spread-eagled across my hallway, slowly going to pieces and trying to keep his knees from buckling as some sort of milking machine brought him to orgasm and made him spurt come across my floor. In this fantasy I am watching him from the comfort of my couch. As much as I love being hands-on with The Pedant, I often feel I miss out on the best eye candy because I’m so busy Doing All the Things.

After the thing about the cock ring he added “…And you’re always welcome to use your other toys on me” which, given that most of my toys are insertables, would appear to mean that I have carte blanche to play with his ass, now. For a long time I felt like I had to ask first every time because he claimed not to be that into it so I figured he needed to be in a very specific mood; recently I’ve begun initiating ass-penetration without saying anything (but giving him plenty of time to see/hear that I’m putting on a glove, and opt out if he wants to). And now it seems like he’s welcomed it as a regular part of our repertoire. From now on I’ll initiate without feeling like I’m being pushy.

This is the problematic thing about my relationship with The Pedant: we haven’t had much outright negotiation because I get a strong sense that he has a hard time reconciling his manhood with his urge to submit, and needs to approach it kind of obliquely, like it’s happening by accident. If I did my usual procedure of sitting down with him at the outset and going “Okay, so you want to submit. What are your limits? Can I make you beg to come? Can I put things in your ass whenever I want?” etc., that would be waaaaay too much. Some days he can’t even tell me about sexual things he wants to do with me unless we’re already mid-makeout and his guard is down – and even then he’ll whisper it in my ear, as with the cock ring idea etc.

Speaking of not overwhelming him with too much at once…I’m fairly sure, by his reactions, that some of The Pedant’s enjoyment of ass play lately may stem from the thought that I’m using him as an object. And I totally want to trash-talk him like “You’re my whore* and I will use all your holes as I see fit” but I kind of think we’re not there yet. I think he feels the feelings of being sexily vulnerable and open for use but won’t/can’t put it into actual words, and would not be ready to hear the words from me. Baby steps.

Anyway. I’d already decided what I wanted to do with The Pedant, so his suggestion of stringing up his wrists again came too late for this particular session.

I pulled him into the bedroom, sat on the edge of the bed, and said “kneel for me.” He did so willingly and immediately, sitting between my feet in an attitude of attentiveness with his back straight and his hands laid palm-down on my thighs. I retrieved the wrist cuffs and buckled them on and his body practically crackled with anticipation. When I got a double-ended clasp thingy and drew his arms behind his back, he gave a little gasp. I linked his wrists together behind his back, kissed and caressed him for a while (loving the way his cock would jump each time I touched his nipples…) and the details are already getting fuzzy but I believe I buckled his collar on at that point, too.

Then I said “I want your face between my legs” which made him do that little gasp thing again. I love that. 😀

It’s been a long time since I’ve allowed The Pedant to orally sex me. He never used to listen to direction and would often end up hurting me or boring me or (usually) both in succession. I took a chance that this time – since we are now explicitly in an arrangement where he subs to me in the bedroom – he would listen to me.

I told him to kiss the hood of my clitoris lightly. I told him to lick along my labia gently from bottom to top, not being too invasive. I told him to see how deeply he could get his tongue inside me. I told him to put his mouth just above the tip of my clit and see how fast he could massage the area with his lips and tongue. He did all of those things, and I was lavish with my praise. I know that he’s had performance anxiety about oral in the past and I wanted to reinforce the idea that if he follows my specific instructions, he can’t fail. He will be doing exactly what I want, I’ll be happy, and he’ll have no reason to be anxious. I really think his terrible oral in the past (the terrible sex in general…) was because he paradoxically got so caught up in wanting to be good at stuff that he overfocused and entirely forgot to notice any of my words or reactions.

His mouth-massage was feeling quite lovely and turning me on a lot. But pretty soon The Pedant started alternating his tongue-work with kinda pressing his lips against me and shaking his whole head back and forth; his tongue was clearly getting tired, and I knew I wouldn’t come from what he was doing (not that day, anyway) so I gently disengaged and told him I wanted his cock. I undid his hands and told him to get on the bed.

I straddled him and kissed him and AUGH THE VAGINA BREATH OMG. The last time he went down on me he drooled copiously and so the taste had kinda rinsed itself out of his mouth by the time I kissed him. Not so this time. Now, to be clear, my hygiene is impeccable and I’ve had numerous men tell me unprovoked that I taste great…but I find the smell and taste of me on someone’s mouth to be powerfully offputting. Possibly because I’m mostly straight so the blast of female pheromones throws a wrench into my sexy headspace? I dunno. I powered through my distaste for the sake of politeness but damn.

And then I clipped The Pedant’s wrists to the corners of the bed and put him inside me. “I intend to draw this out for a while,” I said. “If you’re getting close to coming, tell me so I can stop.”

Happily, his warnings this time were more timely than usual and I did not accidentally make him come before I intended to. I slowly rode him to the edge, let him cool down slightly, brought him back to the edge, let him cool down. As I slowly thrust down around him I murmured to him that he was my slave and that his body was mine to use as I pleased; truth be told the word “slave” irks me, but he’s used it enough times that I can see it has an erotic charge for him and so I said it in order to drive him mad. It hit the mark.

Annnnnd up to the edge a third time: “You’re gonna make me come if you keep doing this.”

I dutifully stopped my thrusting. Then asked “do you want to come?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Ask me,” I said.

And immediately he said, “Please. Please. Please.” Kept chanting it even as I started thrusting again with (I thought) clear intent to make him come.

He must have been waiting for explicit permission (as best he could; ultimately I do not think he could have withstood my continued thrusting, regardless). So I said “yes” and a second later he was bucking and moaning under me.

We dozed off all entwined in each other, and when I woke up I found that I was astoundingly wet. Like, running-down-my-thighs wet.

I said “Oh jeez, I’m soaked and I’m not sure if it’s you or me.”

The Pedant said “It’s probably me. I forgot to jerk off last night and then this morning I was rushing around getting ready to go out and didn’t get a chance to.” Immediately I realized that yeah, it probably was him. My fluids stay thick but semen tends to go thin and runny over time, and the consistency of this insane crotch-flooding was pretty watery.

The Pedant has said before that he needs to get off pretty frequently and if he doesn’t, it takes about a day and a half for the pent-up energy (or pent-up semen, I’m unclear) to feel physically uncomfortable.  So he was already all backed up when he got here and then I edged the shit out of him. Oh, the hotness. My sadistic side is mightily pleased. I only wish I’d known he was pent up when I started so I could have fully realized what I was doing to him that whole time.

More later.


*Disclaimer: I know the word whore is not politically correct (or even logically correct, here, since whore is a slur for a sex worker and a) I’m not paying The Pedant and b) paying someone for sex doesn’t indicate blanket consent to all the things ever). I would not ever use the word when referring to a sex worker, or as an insult. Nobody should. Buttttt it turns me on as a sexytimes word with someone who likes being called that.

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