Stories by Gwen

Jane is an Australian university student I met recently. I told her that I sometimes put sweet subby girls through long days of edging without allowing them to cum. She was intrigued by the idea and we made plans to try it. Here are some of the messages we exchanged that day. From Gwen  - 11:15 p.m. Tomorrow's perfect. Let's start this way. When you get up, and before you leave the house to go to your classes at the university, I want you to make some time completely nude in front of a mirror. Take your breasts in your hands. Squeeze them against your chest. Play with your nipples. When they're erect, pinch them a bit. Twist and tug. Pinch harder. A lot harder. Look at your hands on your breasts. Imagine my hands there, touching you. Say this aloud: "My body belongs to you, Miss Gwen. I'm a slutty horny whore for you and I'm going to do exactly what you want. It makes me so wet to be your property, Miss Gwen, to be obedient and touch myself and fu...

It's the hottest day of summer and I feel as if I've been walking forever. The sundress I'm wearing lets the hot breeze bake my skin and offers little cover from the burning sun. The sidewalk bakes and shimmers in the heat. My feet burn through the thin soles of my strappy sandals. *I can't take any more of this,* I think. *I've got to take cover.* Cars pass along the busy street, the drivers slowing down to take a look at me. A half-block ahead I see a small sign hanging from a pole over the sidewalk: "Air Conditioned." As I get closer, I see that the letters are drawn to resemble little blocks of ice. Rescue! I arrive at the sign and find a glass booth. I've come to a movie theater. Perfect...I can escape from the heat in the cool dark, maybe even take a nap. I can stay all afternoon, until the sun goes down and a breeze rises to cool the city's baking streets. I shove money into the slot and take my ticket, hurrying into the lobby. Doubl...

Go. Now. I see your simple words on my screen, Gwen, and before I can stop myself, my head tips back like my hair was pulled. My eyes flutter shut. There's a hiss of indrawn breath as the bottom drops out of my stomach, plunging directly between my thighs. My fingers curl over the flat surface of my desk and find no purchase. It doesn't really matter how I found myself in this predicament. It doesn't matter what games were played and what dances executed in this strange flirtation. We've circled for days, weeks, with pretty words strung together like beads, beautiful shining sequences of clever prose. I try to keep my secrets to myself, you try to tease them out of me. Those secrets are the keys to the why of me, and I am afraid to have those known. You try to lead, I dodge and slide away. I fight this because I need to, because I must, but there was a growing sense of inevitability in the last few exchanges. I tip my own hand every time because I am conflicted ...

I enjoy being dominant but I am not a sadist. When I engage with a submissive girl, I accept responsibility for decision-making in our relationship, particularly regarding sex. That means that I am no longer responsible just for my own pleasure, but for hers as well. That is a big responsibility and I take it seriously. If a partner requires a bit of humiliation or pain for satisfaction, then I will provide it. But I take no direct pleasure from hurting anyone. We all have comfort zones. We know what we like and what feels safe to us. As I get to know my partners I learn where the borders and edges of their comfort zones are. We go there, right to the edge. And when we have established trust and all seems right, I lead them a half-step over into the thrilling territory they didn't dare explore before - or, more commonly, that they never suspected they would find so exciting and fulfilling. When the chemistry is just right, the sub takes an adventure tour of erotic discovery a...

I have more cunnilingus memories than fellatio memories. But never let it be said that I am a stranger to Priapus. Years ago when I was working in San Francisco I rented a house in the hills overlooking the airport. The hill we lived on was steep enough, and the architecture of our house careful enough, that the hot tub in the back yard was completely private. Linda and I spent a lot of time out there under the stars. She had this whole geisha routine where she used to dress in a robe and fetch me wine and a towel, sometimes a dainty snack. She'd undress me and massage me as I eased myself into the hot water. Then she'd get in and we'd listen to music and watch the planes circle as they waited to land at SFO. Linda's little brother Steve came to town, I remember, to make a presentation at one of the universities. I think actually it was UC-Berkeley, which wasn't terribly close to us. But we invited him to stay with us anyway. He could always borrow my car to ...

I like the idea of being in control of your pleasure. When my face is between your legs I can regulate the thermostat, raising the heat and then backing away, raising it again and then pulling away. Making your need grow into urgency. I like that feeling of mastery, of control. And of course I like owning your pleasure. I love the intimacy of cunnilingus. When your legs are spread for my kiss, there's nowhere to hide. There is something loving and intimate about the way your self-consciousness dissolves into desire. You forget yourself, lose yourself in the feelings. The trust and closeness are both consequence and cause of your pleasure. I place one of your pretty feet on my left shoulder and one on my right, then lean forward. Your knees bend and fall open, revealing my prize. I trace a long, low, feather-light trail up the seam between your thighs, barely touching you as I inhale your musk. Another long lick, barely touching, and you squirm a bit, rolling your hips upward ...

The clock slips from 11:58 to 11:59. Almost noon - but not quite. You've told me to wait until noon and I will. I have to. You wouldn't know if I peeked early, but I would. And I can't violate your directions. That is where your power settles on me. I couldn't betray it without betraying myself in a fundamental way. Obeying you is who I am. A minute finally passes. Noon. I stand and walk with purpose to the restroom. It's time to check my panties. This morning you left a note within them, face down, telling me not to check it until noon. You seem to love communicating through these byzantine channels, codes, and timely rendezvous It's a bit of a game, I suppose, but it's serious too. You're always leading me forward, and I've learned I need that. I've needed it since I met you. The note. It will give me a hint about what you intend to do to me tonight. I close the stall door, sliding my slacks and panties down together. Between my legs, nestled i...