I have mentioned many times how I’m personally opposed to assuming one sexual role in a relationship–that I enjoy many levels of sexuality, role play, and role reversals. One particular sex fixation will not get me off each and every time. It would take some serious breaking for a man to make me a completely submissive woman. It is just not in me.

Nor could I be with a completely submissive man.

However; I do have a penchant for taking a man down and making him mine. In the past I have sought out submissive men to have my way with, a girl dosnt doesn’t have to seek too far. But these men only, and always want a woman to take them and use them. That is not what I am into.

There is an aggravation equation when it comes to dealing with men that can easily be solved with a bit of the ol’ take down.

As much as I enjoyed NYC–he talks too much, he gets too eager, he has and keeps a constant hard on that follows women around with like a dowsing wand. So what’s a girl to do?

Take down.

Wearing an adorable pair of ruffle burlesque panties, my glasses and a smile–I  placed him in a very compromising position. He’s a good sport. I locked his hands together tightly with a belt over his head.

“No touching. You touch your cock too much as it is,” I bitched.

His cock and his balls– I then wired to the electricity producing machine. From the moment I attached the sticky pads to his cock I felt this power wash over me–this feeling of control–this command of my own pussy. Girl takes boy.

Slowly I turn the knob–watching him twist and squirm I get a demented feeling of fun and I am sure and delightfully evil glint to my eyes and of course an even bigger vixen smile. I tease as I turn the dial–telling him where I usually like it set. I get to my number and pass it. Apparently his cock is not as sensitive as my pussy–I get to where he can feel it–his thighs jump and his cock twitches–then I turn it up a little more.

NYC strains to look at his wired up cock.

“What are you look at? No peeking.”

Blindfold time.

Something about a blindfold on the man is liberating to me–especially when the man is tied to my bed and not going anywhere. I am free to do as I please. I become another woman, a different fraction of me. I turn the dial a little higher–he moans and jerks around. He starts mumbling about  something.

“are you talking? –shut up.”

There is only one sure way to shut a man up. Straddling his face I lower my ruffled black panties over his mouth. That should do it.

We are in a nice 69 position, so I can monitor his wired up cock. I give him a little suck and stroke now and then. The electricity has him excited, but his cock goes in waves of hard to soft in correlation to the current running through it. I decide a finger might be nice for him. I rise up and sitting on his face more as I wet my finger in my own mouth prepping it to shove in your ass. I pull the  wet lace soaked patch aside so your can lick and eat directly on my pussy, gliding over your face and tongue like it’s your cock. Leaning up and over and I shove my finger deep in, hitting your gland–feeling it, massaging deep inside, your cock bouncing in front of my face–I give another little suck as I fuck your ass, then a round of electricity runs through you again and you moan.

I pull my finger out at the same moment the electricity is on a down wave. You may have actually whimpered, but I didn’t really care I continued to ride your face. I sort of cannot stand when I have had my finger in ass, I don’t mind doing it and surely love when someone does it to me, but I cannot fully relax again until I have  washed my hands. So I get off you to do so, allowing you take a little break, but before leaving the bed I remove my burlesque panties and shove them deep in you mouth. No talking. I wash. I pee.

Upon return I plug the Hitachi in– mostly for me, but I give you a little too. It makes your cock jump. It makes your ass rumble, it makes you moan.

“No moaning.”

Yanking the panties out of you mouth I get back on your face and go for a nice long ride. You become a mouth to fuck and very little else. I am gone. I am wanting to come now. I don’t care if  you ever come. I want come. Your tongue fucks me, flickers my ass, fucks my ass, I sit on your face, I command you how to lick me properly, telling you how to fuck me with your tongue.

You are such a good sport.

My thighs straddled across your face, I watch as your cock does an electric dance. Bringing the Hitachi to my already wet wet pussy, I hit it. Low–Oh god damn it feel so fucking good, god damn.
I can feel the liquid dripping down my thighs. The Hitachi is a super soaker to me. Quickly I click it off and you lick up what has dripped out, your tongue hot on my cunt. I am ready to cum.

I hit it again this time on high, my pussy lips hovering, your tongue lapping at me, the wand reverberating at my clit, but hitting my core. I could no longer hold back, I push the wand harder into me and let loose, let it all go. More than a gush, a soak, a river of girl cum floods your face, destroys the sheets and my favorite pillow bellow you. And I keep coming and writhing onto of you. My body is full of it’s own electricity–jerking and twitching about.

Keeping my pussy on your face I remove the electrode pads from your cock. I turn and straddle your face the other way balancing my shaky post cum body on the wall.

“Stroke yourself, cum on me.”

I cannot see you, but I feel the familiar motion of cock being jacked, you eat me while you stroke and it doesn’t take long before your tongue has brought me to a mild post orgasm–orgasm. I am flush as I drift over you mouth–trying to catch my breath and my senses–I feel your body tense and then I feel your heat splash my back.

We collapse–and the roles become neutral again.

When we regain–I then take the submissive role back and prepare us a snack.

Still sick, but back to frisky, well according to those around me, so it must be true. So, what does this mean? I am ready to come out and play.

Anyone wanna play?

Saturday I found a quite willing playmate. He was a good “task master,” opposite from the ones I’ve played with before. I like to consider myself a sexual shape shifter, able to play or assume different roles. I can be a dominate and control you, make you serve me, treating you like nothing, but my personal cunt licker, or I can be the submissive whore. This reminds me of the movie Crimes of Passion, one of those I saw when I was too young to fully understand, staring a hot hot Kathleen Turner. It had such memorable quotes as…
“we may run out of Pan Am coffee, but we will never run out of TWATea.”
There was also a monologue she made about what or who she could be it went something like…
” I can be your slut, your little girl, your queen, Eva Braun , your mother, your Madonna…”
Basically she could transform herself into whoever you wanted her to be. Well, to say the least this movie left quite an impression on my pre-sexual mind and body. God I use to masturbate all over the place to this frequent HBO movie.

I often think of myself as being able to be whatever and whoever you want me to be. I am sexually adaptable,  and would definitely be so if I was being paid.

I have never been paid to fuck, though fucking is never free. We pay with many aspects of ourselves, both when fucking and being fucked. There have been times when I seriously considered fucking for cash, seeing it as my only option, or times when I thought, I am doing it for free already–I may as well get paid for it. But then something would workout and the money I needed would always come from else where. Being paid to please in all those ways people want to be pleased is not far off from being a librarian. Our main goal is to serve with all the skill we have in our bones. I always felt I would make a good whore, but like an artist, when it came time to sell my work, I always ended up giving it away.

This brings me back to Saturday, when he asked me if I had a vibrating egg. My response– yes, of course, and his–
“well what are you waiting for woman, go get and put it deep inside your cunt, now.”
Yes yes yes nodding up and down.
“Yes sir, as you wish.”
because, yes, when I want– I can be your very obedient little slut.
The moment I had the vibration rumbling, he demanded
“now make your self cum before you go to work. Now!”
I knew right away that while this man was from the same compilation of short stories he was going to be a very different read, and so began my day of cumming on command.

In my temporary subservience, I make  myself cum and as a treat I filmed it for my sweet tormentor. Seven plus minute of fucking myself, asking if it was this pussy he wanted, my wetness filling the soundtrack.

Throughout my day of reference services,  emails were sent back and forth, directives, requests, flirtations of the most devious kind.
“turn the vibrator up”
I would and then I would grind my cunt into my chair feeling the egg rock from pussy to clit and back. I helped the patrons with the vibration vibrating. I could easily hear it, and I was sure that if anyone paid any attention they too could hear it, but nobody pays any attention.
“Turn it up again.”

He requested me to leave the desk and go to the bathroom to take care of my pussy willow, snapping a photo as proof. Which I did. I had now cum four times since I woke up, I was developing that pressure that seems to build in my head when I make myself cum like this, this many times. It hurts, it feel like my whole being is going to explode when I do  cum.

The next request.
“Pick a man and hit on him unscrupulously. Overly, overtly help him, bend in half show him your ass before you return to your desk, be the deliberate slut you are. Then, when you sit down, bury your fingers in your pussy again while making eye contact with him.”

This proved harder than expected, and took awhile to accomplish, it is astounding how horrid all the men became when I was required to hit on them. I was beginning to think I was not going to be able to pull of the directive. Then the cutest young Russian boy walked in. Young Russian men, with their thick accents and great taste in foreign cinema, make me wet.

As my reference line grew longer and longer I continued to ignore the rest and focused all my mental and pussy attention on the Russian, one on one library girl attention. I looked up his favorite directors, I stood and mashed my tits together while showing him how my search was conducted, I walked him back to the foreign film section, I searched the stacks for his films as I scanned I began to bend my body in half, my ass jutting out behind me, yet facing him, lower and lower finally I had to squat before him, finding his movie on the lowest shelf. As he stood there, so close,  looking down at me–I pulled the case from its home, looking up smiling, “I found it!”

His cock right at my eyes. I found it indeed, big vixen smile spread across my lips, I swear his dick was so close to me I could smell it, I wanted to reach out and stroke it, run my tongue and lips along the fabric of his jeans that was just concealing his growing branch. I continued to ignore the line of antsy patrons and helped my Russian find one more, my pussy rumbling from the egg and thumping from my excitement. The transaction had me on fire, it left me feeling high and extra flirty. My fist shoved deep between my legs as I said my final salutations to the Russian.
“is there anything else I can help you with?”

Meanwhile my screen was flashing…
“Your next instruction. Go to the bathroom, a quiet corner, wherever you can get off the fastest. Go and cum. I don’t care what you’re doing, who you’re dealing with. Pretend you’re about to throw up because you’re still sick if you have to, go to the bathroom right now and cum for me. Don’t try to prolong it, don’t be gentle — do it hard, do it fast, cum as fast as you can.”

My elevation high from serving the Russian and in mid sentence with a co-worker, I told her I would be right back. She flashed me that what the fuck look, but I didn’t care, I needed to cum again.

It felt impossible a task, my lips were puffy and used, my panties already soaked, but I did it. My legs propped, my jeans dropped. Furiously I drew out the hardest cum of the day, the whole time circling my hard clitty– I was convinced I could not do it. My head was aching, I could not catch my breath, further and further up this imaginary ladder of self fuck, faster faster, static, white noise, breath more rapid with each thrust into my cunt. ERaghhhhh ohhhh  fuck yeah, the explosion of mind and pussy flood together. It takes me some time to come down after that one.

Pulling myself together, floating down from the cloud of cum, packing the egg back between my full spent pussy lips, I drift back to the library floor.

“My final instruction is for you to drop your buzzer down to a very low setting. I want you just barely excited, but able to coast down and calm yourself for the remainder of your workday.”
“Consider it done. It is and was my pleasure.”

I like that you don’t require, coffee, talking, movies, drinking—all that bullshit, I just don’t feel like doing right now. You seem to be perfectly content with me coming over late night and not leaving until, slink time, dawn, or sometime there after. You seem perfectly fine with me coming over to taste you, feel you, and force you to take pictures of me in lewd positions. It is a nice fit, a fine exchange of sexual behavior.

We drink some wine, but you are already where you need to be and I am always there. Like the time before there is some natural comfortability with you that I really like. It makes me want to shed clothing, it makes me want to confess things, it makes me wish I went to high school with you. It makes me we want to get loopy drunk and suck and fuck you all over your room, squishing you in all kinds of ways, taking advantage of you, just the way you like.

From my purse I pull out a crisp white bag. Dangling and swaying it on my finger, I flash a big vixen smile and proclaim “I brought toys!”

I undo your belt, and lower myself to the floor, rubbing my face, cheeks, lips into your lap. I take you gently in, taking my time to feel you grow, to feel you fill my mouth. I slide my fingers around my cunt, feeling how slick I’m becoming. There is something about giving head to man who just sits back and enjoys what I do, the way I do it. You don’t force, you don’t shove my head into your cock, you don’t yank on my hair, you don’t try to gag me, and while I like all those things, it’s just not your style. I love that.

I tell you to lie down on the bed, grabbing the white bag I join you.

I pull up a nice amount of salvia into my mouth and slide my finger in getting it naturally wet and lubed, with your hard dick being stroked in the other hand; I slide the wet finger into your tightest space. Taking it easy, yet very deliberate, my finger hooking up to hit your man g-spot. You sigh looking back at me, giving me every sign to go further. From the bag I pull out a small bottle of lube and a smallish slim sleek dildo. Not garish, not shaped like a cock, but it does have a nice curve to it. I smile, lower down to your ear, while my hands caress your body, your ass, your dick, and I whisper “I’m going to fuck you now.” You nod with an unsure, yet very willing smile. I love that.

I squirt the lube on the tip, and smoothly slide into you. Eventually the whole shaft is up your ass, doing the magical act of disappearing and reappearing. You begin to back into it meeting my thrust. Moving my hips I fuck you, like I am fucking you for the first time. There is a mutual power shift, my mind flashes and I am thinking–I could really fuck the shit out of you. Plowing into your ass, making you scream, cry, beg for more. Thrusting my fake cock like a beast, like all those fuck beasts that fucked me in the past. It would feel good, emotionally it would be fucking hot. Fuck beast. I let the idea pass and continue with my gentle loving of your tight hole. My hand wraps around your cock, pulling up and out drips of pre-cum, massaging it into your crown and down your shaft, you drip from your dick and into my fingers. I am fucking you.

I now have the urge to take in a different manner; in my impulse I climb the length of your body. I am positioned just right. Lowering my pussy on to you lips, your drink, I grind, as my eyes stay fastened to yours, the visual causes me to flow and dribble. I ride your face. You are such a good sport as I thrust with deep inclination into your mouth, your tongue, radiating heat, is lapping me up, it’s fucking me now, but the power shift remains the same. I am riding you, I am still fucking you. I love that.

My breath is heavy, I can feel how my chest is rising and falling. I begin to sweat behind my knees, I know you are about to draw from me a strong long torrential orgasm. Wrapping my hands around your head, my hips push down a bit more, and I let it go. I let loose onto your face, flooding you with my cum. It so hot, I am so turned on by the way you let me do whatever I want, the way you let me be, the way we both get what we want.

It is interesting though–the dichotomy of my sexuality, that is. It is also for these same reasons I cannot be monogamous at this point in my life. I want, and crave variety of sex too much (I am such a great slut). I like what we did, I like the control alteration. However; I certainly like getting truly fucked too, fucked like I cannot move the next day. My body marked up and down with the proof of the night before. I also like mutual control fucking, where the power shifts bounce off walls, switching back and forth. Where you are spanking me, making my ass sting and turn all shades of a red hue. Then I may be grinding you so hard using your dick like it is inanimate object that you the man has temporarily become less essential.

Is it possible in nearly 25 years of sexual activity that a man has never asked me what I like, what I want? The question took me by surprise.

Men have for the most part taken what they wanted and given what they thought I wanted. Of course by now I finally tell them what I want, guide and suggest with a moan and groan, or a right there, right there, or–you know–by just pulling their head between my legs. But those who have actually asked are rare, so rare I cannot even recall any.

“what do you like?”
What do I like?
I like the way you made me feel free. Free to make you do what I wanted, how I wanted, free to keep your face buried in my pussy for the entire night.

Your place is small like a cocoon, comfortable, warm, too warm. You shed my clothing, the sweater, the blouse. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you kneel between my thighs and begin removing my boots, my socks, my stockings. My toes hit the air and your hand grabs around  my feet and begin massaging these over worked librarian tootsies. I feel my body melt into the bedding, as I recline back and allow you to begin the pleasuring of me. The opening of a closed book, my pages being read.

I asked for it, and now it is realized, it is all about me. Your pleasuring of me. Quickly this sense of complete liberation comes over me. I can do and be anyway I want. That you as the submissive little slut you are will love anything I do. It sets me on fire, it allows me to do things I would never do, things I have never done.

“Unbutton my skirt.”
The snaps come undone, the skirt drops to the floor. Below me is you, I stand above you looking down. My inverted V legs straddled over your face, as your body gravitates, I wrap my hand around the back of your head pulling your mouth into my pussy. Holding your there, the heat of your breath penetrates the fabric of my leggings, inflating my pussy and ego at the same time.

I let your head drop.
“you can take my pants off now.”
Peeling them down, I sit on the edge of the bed as you strip them from my skin. Your hands running the length of my legs, I roll over and spread across you bed, belly down, ass up.

“Unhook my bra.”
Fully exposed, normally I would feel flashes of vulnerability about this time, but I don’t. I feel sexual, I feel sexy.
“I need a massage”

Relaxation drifts into want, to gratification. Rubbing, your hand drifts to my ass, that junction between my thighs.
“Am I wet?”
Your finger infiltrates, you say
“a little.”

“check again.”
with more force you finger slides in, passes that first puffy layer, and hits wetness.
your sigh give me my answer.

Your face, finds my ass, buries, licks, roots.
The fun begins, you eat me like a starving man.

I cum. I cum, and I cum. These small cums a series of small orgasms, spasms, brought to the brink of crossing that edge, that point where all rational flies out the room. I purposefully stop myself each time. I want to save that big one.

During lick breaks we talk, I question you. I love to question men. Their motives, how they acquired those motives. I learn more, mind and body. You ask me to spit in you mouth. I am beyond turned on. In the dimly lit cocoon, the music thumps sensual, the saliva  languidly falls from my lips. The silver strand stretches and drops into yours, hitting your lips and tongue. Our eyes are locked, I feel absurdly drawn to you. I feel like I want to you to taste, to consume every part of me.

We rolled all over your little space, drinking, feeling, your lips and tongue devouring every inch.

Somehow I ended up on top of you, my ass and pussy burying  as you eat and drink every bit of me. Reaching  over to my purse by the side of the bed, pulling  out my njoy wand. I begin fucking myself, the wand hitting that spot, that spot that makes me see stars and hear nothing. You continue to lick at my pussy and then at my ass.  I know I am going to cum hard. After prolonging it so many times, it will be immense, I feel it.

“Are you ready? are you ready for me to cum, are you?”
I don’t think you were really ready, I don’t think I was really ready.

It was a like a catharsis, and expulsion of emotion and liquid. A canopy of fluid covers your face, I could hear you lapping me up. My body writhing on top of you, my thighs shaking and my mind whirling. The towels we laid down were useless.

I need to taste me on you. We kiss, lick.

Sleep.

Repeat.