Eve Angel And Lisa - Revolutionize Your Pink Velvet Viv Thomas With These Easy-peasy Tips

I was 23 and had been single for 2 years. Life was a journey of sexual discovery and exploration. I was enjoying my freedom to have many one-off experiences with guys and girls from all different walks of life and corners of the globe, but I still felt like there was something vital that was fundamentally missing from life.
I knew deep down that no relationship would ever be the same after I had been introduced to the world of BDSM. I could never go back to normality. So when A turned up I believed that he was perfect. He was a mixture of the dark and the. vanilla that I had been waiting for. He was such a normal and unassuming person from the outside, and somehow, that made him all the more interesting. He drove a nice car and had a decent job and a very average body. I vivtomas liked that. There was a depth of personality to A. It was his mind that turned me on. He had an air of intelligence and dominance conversationally that was reassuring and unique, and a deep voice that was just the most sexy thing in the world. He was in charge.
He, like me, was waiting for something, and when I turned up, he made it clear that he wanted me so badly. I don’t think I have ever felt so desired by a man as I have from A. He loved that I was a teacher, he loved that I was the sort of girl you wouldn’t expect to be kinky. He thought I was the sort of girl who he could introduce to his parents, who would know how to behave, who he could have kids with, and at the same time, his whore in the bedroom. He was in for the long haul and wanted a submissive girl to "mould and shape" and make his own. He was so quick to launch into taking things further and to push my boundaries and this both terrified me and excited me at the same time. Our relationship followed a pattern in which I would back off and edge away, only to be drawn back in by his sexy voice and promises hours later. "Let me look after you… let me take care of you…" he would say. "Let me show you things… let me teach you new things…". I was like a moth drawn to the flame. He was a dangerous man, and I knew deep down he only wanted to objectify me, but would submit to these words so easily and the push and pull dynamic of our relationship would bring me back every time.
He was such a natural dom. He knew what he wanted and how to get it. I was fascinated by his world and experience. We had long phone calls, and I would frequently cum as I listened to him talk. I remember the day he asked me what my darkest fantasy was. It was something I hadn’t really considered before… and took me a little while before I gave some answers along the lines of rape or humiliation. He indulged in these. "Talk to me about your humiliation fantasy…" He would say, listening intently. I freely spoke about it, how I wanted to be degraded and threatened, treated like an animal, embarrassed and shamed in public. "Talk to me about rape…" he said. I imagined the most dark fantasy I could, being kidnapped and fucked in the woods, I couldn’t believe I was even sharing this. I couldn’t believe I was capable of such thoughts, that these words were coming out of my mouth. He brought it out of me.
He enjoyed and shared my sexual passions. I asked him what his darkest fantasy was, and while there was a lot we had in common, he was soon to surprise me. "well, what if I said that my darkest fantasy would be to have a girl throw up on my cock?" For the first time in a long time with A I was speechless. I could tell that the silence perturbed A.. and he began to backtrack and explain that it happened once to a girl who was gagging on his cock while she was going down on him and then by accident, vomited all over his crotch. He told me that it was the hottest experience of his life. I didn’t think it sounded like much fun. He left me to think about it and I knew the silence from me hurt him. He had shared his darkest and most intimate fantasy with me and I had left him in the dark. Eventually, I came back to him and said that I’d be open to at least trying new things although I wasn’t sure about the idea. I knew that A would be happy with this compromise, and it wasn’t brought up for a long time.
For a while, we had a fun dynamic that involved A giving me tasks and challenges that I would willingly comply with and accept. He was full of inventive sexual games. These got me into all kinds of trouble, from leaving work at lunchtime to phone him, to masturbating in car parks, to sending explicit photographs of myself in risky locations, leaving objects in different holes to take out later. The thrill of A’s dark mind and fantasies pleased me to no end, and it enhanced everything in my life. I enjoyed keeping this dirty secret from everyone; I was happy with my secret. The risk was thrilling. I could have been arrested or discovered at any moment. He wanted to dress me as his slut, to take me out in public, so that my face would turn red with shame. He wanted to gag me with my underwear, to punish me with whips and leather bounds, and to put a hood over my head and fuck me in the woods as I struggled to get away.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted this to become a reality, but I continued my strange relationship with A. I fell in love with his dark creativity, and endless promises of a future life together. He wanted me to sacrifice everything to be with him, and to be fully owned by him as a kind of master. He was a sadistic and I knew that he had the power to hurt me, in body and mind. But I enjoyed feeling vulnerable; it was somehow liberating. It was what I craved the most.
So we met up in a rural hotel locations from time to time to let his wicked imagination run wild. He was very specific about the things he wanted me to bring and made me make a list of the things I had already. The list included all varieties of sexy outfits and killer heels that he adored, and a full set of handcuffs, ropes, collar, and a whip. These things were very important. He also wanted me to bring a dog bowl. He would bring a hood and a ball gag and butt plugs.
The scenarios started off mild and grew darker quickly. To start off with, A would delight in getting me to tie one hand to the bedpost, with a hood over my head, getting me to touch myself with the other. He would whisper dirty things into my ear as I came for him. I could hear him masturbating beside me. The hood had one hole in and when he was ready he would empty his hot sticky cum down my throat and would remind me of how much of a whore I was. And there were darker fantasies to follow. This was the beginning of new horizons.
The next time we met he would have me wait on my knees, with a hood over my head and my hands tied behind my back. He would degrade me in any way he saw fit, and I was to leave the door open and ajar a little with the bag of objects on the bed for his arrival. He was an unpredictable man and I wondered how far he would go. I was given 8 minutes to get myself ready and to choose 3 objects I wanted him to use on me. I laid out the collar, the whip, and the dog bowl, which he was so intent on me bringing. It was a mixture of fear and lust that I felt with A when I waited for him to arrive in the hotel room. He would leave me in suspense for too long. There were no safe words with A either. He had made that clear from the start. With deepening anxiety, I realised I was in an unsafe place.
As he entered the room I heard his footsteps edge closer. I could hear him search through the objects and though I could not see him, I could feel his eyes scan over me. He collared me. "Good puppy", he would say, stroking my head. He would lead me around on the leash and get me to suck his cock. I would get tired and out of breath from doing this so long. He wore me out. When he finally took the hood off my head my makeup would be all over my face and he would take photos. He would then get out the whip and make me bend over and take a few brutal stings to my ass cheeks. I loved the crack of the whip. I loved how sore my ass felt after we had sex. Sometimes, I would make too much noise and cry out a little in the hotel room so he would have to gag me. With each lashing of the whip, I would edge a little closer towards orgasm.
I would cry when we had sex and it eventually became impossible to distinguish between pleasure and pain. Masochism is a strange thing. I was being trained like an animal, to enjoy it and crave it. I began to find pain and degradation arousing, and could not masturbate without thinking about him hurting me.
But A always went too far. He would screw me until my pussy was sore. Often, he would fuck me raw in the ass and explain that he didn’t care which hole it went into. Sometimes I would enjoy it, but ever so often he would go in to quickly or would hit me too hard and I would be shaken up for a long time. He fucked me hard over the toilet once so that my ribs were bruised. I would beg him to stop but he just kept on going. The dog bowl was the worst. I would gag on his cock until I was practically throwing up, drooling and covered in cum. It would all fall into the bowl and he would try and make me lap it up like a dog. It was so degrading and humiliating. I felt sick.
But A loved to hurt me, he loved to see me cry.Always. As soon as I reached my limit he would stop and free me, and I would lie on the bed and cry in a mess with my chains still attached. He would go back to his normal, affectionate self at this point, "I’m so proud of you", he would say. I would go from being his "Fuck toy" or "cunt dump" to being his "darling" and then back around again in a 360 degree circle. As soon as I had recovered from one session he would instruct me that he wanted to be woken up the next day by a blow job. I didn’t enjoy these times. What I once did out of lust, I was now doing out of fear.
I quickly decided that I didn’t enjoy playing the submissive role outside of the bedroom either. There were times during the weekend that I was bored with it. I didn’t want to be his slave. I begrudged him watching TV as I got myself ready and ran his baths. I begrudged every moment I had to spend making him tea and getting his clothes ready. I got tired and exhausted from the kind of sex we would have all the time. To him, that was an expectation, and any failure to obey would result in a kind of "punishment".
Sometimes, I wondered if my curiosity had gone too far. I wondered how serious he was, where the role play ended and real life began. I didn’t feel any deep affection to A anymore. The boundaries had become blurred. My chief difficulties lay with having sex on demand. "It doesn’t matter if you are not in the mood, or on your period," he said. "I should be able to fuck you anywhere and anytime I please."
Sometimes, he would get mad. If he didn’t think I’d put my heart and soul into one of our kinky sex marathons, or if I broke one of his rules, that would justify punishment. viv thomas hd I often felt like I wanted to hurt him back. A was a jealous man and made it clear just how important exclusivity was to him. A didn’t like to hear about my experiences with other people and would feel anger at the thought of anyone else laying a finger on me. One time, I was waiting for him in our hotel room and texting other men. I’m not sure why I did it, I think I was testing the water. He took the phone off me and read through the messages. "This isn’t a game!" He said. "This is just a game to you. You aren’t the one in control here," he explained, with his hand around my neck. I knew I would be punished severely for breaking his rules, and I still have the marks on my body. I was just his property.
He had made his expectations clear from the start of what it fully meant to be a submissive and I regretted blindly going along with it. There was no contract, but verbally I had agreed to anything and everything as A’s submissive. I had to remind myself that there is some redemption, people can change their mind. It is okay to leave. So I had to get out. But A was a great manipulator, and would find it easy to convince me that he loved me deeply, even without the kink. "Don't you love how much I want you? You will never find a man who desires you as much as I do."
He timed the romance so perfectly too, and just as I was about to leave forever, he would know how to pull on my heart strings and win me back by lavishing me with kind words. After convincing me to stay he suggested a nice day out for a walk in the park one hot summers day and I agreed it was a good idea. We walked and talked and I felt myself falling for A again like the first time we had met.
We wandered through the forest but it wasn’t long before the dark side of A came back with a vengeance. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me against the tree. I had shared my rape fantasy with A… and now that it was becoming a reality, I wasn’t so sure if I wanted it anymore. I didn’t even want to think about sex. To make matters worst my downstairs was sore from the night before and without any foreplay I wasn’t wet enough to comfortably take his cock inside me. He fucked me hard against the tree doggy style until he came. I was bruised and injured and hurting. He covered my mouth with his hand and got me to suck his fingers. A had truly abused my trust that I had given him so easily. I went back to my car in silence, barely able to walk properly. His cum trickled down my leg. I felt so degraded.
It took me a long time to recover from my sessions with A. They were draining, both physically and mentally. But this is the last time me and A were ever to have sex. I left him that day, and deeply regret having given away the gift of my own submission to him so easily in the first place. I was so naive, and all of those videos and pictures he has hold of now could ruin my life. A sense of relief flood through me, as I finally saw the light and left him that day.
I look back on these times with a strange nostalgia, and remind myself that all kinds of BDSM should really just be limited to the bedroom. My experiences with A taught me how important it is to have safety nets in place, and I thank myself lucky that I had the confidence to leave when I did. I worry about how many people get stuck into these kind of BDSM contracts and feel no freedom to leave. There is a very fine line between BDSM and abuse, and I’ve learnt just how important the boundaries are. Shyness_isNice