Madama Butterfly

Last night I went on a date with a beautiful woman. She is intelligent and interesting, amazing to feel myself with something other than pure lust coursing through my cells.

She had invited me to the Opera and I in turn invited her to dinner, her pick. We started our evening off at a cute little Italian place, eating really great locally grown foods that were expertly prepared.

We discussed family, work, school, interests. There was very little in the way of discussion about play or sex, a few small innuendos.

I really wanted to know her.

I sat watching her intently as she talked, absorbing her presence and eating slowly. I am stunned by how absolutely pretty she is, inside and out. I find myself wanting to know everything I can about her.

We walked slowly back to her apartment to put leftovers in her fridge and I note the cello on the floor and some amazing art that turns out to be a drawing of her. She calls it narcissistic and I must agree, it is dark and dangerous and not how I see her at all. The artist has cast her reflection on the paper as she is light and the portrait is dark.

We walk up to catch the bus to the Opera, discussing her hobbies and interests.

Riding to the opera I ask her about the cello and learn even more about her that intrigues me.

This woman has me mesmerized. I find myself wanting to just listen to her speak and look into her eyes.

We arrive at the Queen Elizabeth theatre and get settled into out seats. We look at our programs and comment on the stage and the orchestra.

Soon the curtain has gone up and we immerse ourselves in the tale of Madama Butterfly. It was delightful the way the set designer was able to affect the emotions on stage so utterly by subtle changes in the set. I have always been appreciative of theatre arts including set design and construction. I was not to be disappointed.

Intermission and we got up to wander around looking at various bits of art and enjoying the ladies that were dressed up for the evening in their formal wear. Again we connected having random discussions.

She could not have impressed me more.

Back in the theatre we prepared for the tragic ending we knew was coming. This opera is fatal and the sorrow becomes palpable and lives in the theatre as the woman playing "Cio Cio San" pours her heart out with her glowing vibrant voice.

Her death is no less dramatic than expected and we are both crying at the heartbreaking ending of the beautiful "Butterfly", we are standing with everyone and clapping and cheering the cast and crew.

We walk back to her apartment and I retrieve my food.

Our goodnight is quiet and I am left wanting so much more, but patience will prevail with this woman. She is to succulent to rush at, I would much rather end the evening with a hug and the possibility of tomorrow, than a quick fling. Friendship and the possibility of something more gives me the patience I need to wait.

We agree to get together again, nothing concrete yet, but I will expand my plans to include her when there is an opportunity.

I will see her again.

Sacrifice

She lays on the ritual table, limbs restrained by leather thongs that do nothing to hold her still. They only serve to keep her on the table. Her clothing is fine white linens that is billowing around her like a soft white cloud.

She has consented to this act and he confirms the consent again. Then the room grows dark.

She is surrounded on all sides by candlelight, she can hear low chanting almost a murmur of voices, cascading like stream water over river rocks. It is cool and she shivers, feeling the hairs on her neck rising as goose pimples cover her arms and legs.

He has a long sharp black dagger and he is standing above her silent. The chanting around her grows louder and fills her ears, fear rises in her throat and her pulse quickens. She must remember her purpose, and holds her esolve firmly in front of her.

His blade flashes along the razor sharp edge as he lowers it and cuts through the linens that were her only protection. Shuddering she holds deathly still while her screams echo inside her head.

He is cutting her skin along her belly in a long slow stroke. The knife is sharp as a scalpel, but his desire is to cause her as much agony as she can bear. The knife moves ever slowly down her belly to her pelvic bone.

She is lost in the hot pain that radiates through her. She feels her blood weeping through the wound he is carving in her sensitive skin and she sobs in a release of emotion. Her blood is collected in a silver cup as it oozes down her body. The smell of it is strong and coppery.

He is salivating as he collects her life essence and he continues on with his cutting. Looking in her eyes he sees pain, fear, excitement. She is fairly glowing in her lust, in her desire to be this sacrifice.

He has carved the Goddess' symbol into her tummy, her skin shall bear her mark until as a corpse it rots off her bones, returning her to the earth where her life began. His hand smears the edges of the blood seeping from Her emblem, fingers coating in her essence. He moves lower and smudges the blood on her bared vulva.

She gasps and screams feeling his hand part her lips wide and the hilt of his dagger slides inside her. Her cum gushes out over his bloodied blade. Pain orgasm washed into and blended in her female lust.

More blood as he bring the chalice close and drips it onto her clitoris. It has cooled slightly and she is startled as he lowers his head and sucks the coppery bits from her lips.

Orgasm sweeps through her again, a storm of pleasure and pain cresting and building and overtaking her senses.

She loses consciousness.

When she awakes she is no longer tied down.

The candles have burned low, she is laying in the linen rags that have been torn and bloodied.

His hood is back and he is washing the sigil carved into her tummy. Warm water trickling deliciously over her flesh and washing the blood away. She admires his rugged handsome face as he cares for her. Emotions well up inside her and tears trickle down her cheeks.

He has marked her, now all will see and know she belongs to the Goddess. Sacrificed in pain and pleasure, Her emblem will become a shiny scar that will bear witness to her pain rights.

Bad Toy

I have been working on a scene with my toy for almost a week. Events made it impossible to play this way with him. Time, life, work, family, commitments to others kept getting in the way.

I lack patience, anyone who sees me in a scene knows whether I top or bottom I am active. I am moving, I am participating and vocal.

It comes from my impatience that I do not consent to intricate rope bondage scenes or scenes where I am required to be still or quiet. It doesn't appeal to me.

Waiting worries away at my patience.

I had to wait.

And wait..

And wait some more..

Until at last he had a measley two hours of time. Frustration set in. Anger tore through me relentlessly. 2 hours is not enough time to scene. Not enough time for much.

I won't scene when I am angry, but I will have sex. I tell him I will pick him up and he can eat my pussy for two hours "Yes Goddess"

I brought him over, in the car I tell him I didn't shave and he gets to spend the next two hours rubbing his tongue on my stubbly pussy. He carried my small scene bag in from the car. He stood there looking at me expectantly.

"No you can't kiss me. No you can't touch me. Take off your clothes." While he undresses I lay my new toys out on the table. He is making flattering comments about my outfit. I am ignoring him.

I am angry. "See these toys? I am not using a single one on you!"

I take him to the bedroom. I take off my clothes, I make him lay down. His dick is rock hard. I ignore it and straddle his face.

I make him lick and suck my pussy until I have cum. Climb off, lean over, suck his cock into my mouth and bite him. He is groaning. "Please goddess"

I tell him he is not allowed to cum. I climb onboard his dick and start fucking him. I am squirting all over his cock in about ten strokes. And soon again after. I lean forward and kiss him hard and then shove my nipple in his mouth.

I pull away and lay back. "Clean my pussy" He is quick to obey, damn he is good with his tongue. He is slurping and sucking all the juices off my thighs and pussy and ass. His tongue finds my clit and I tell him to bite it. He bites it and starts to move away,"I never said you could stop" His mouth is back. I cum twice more before I let him lay down beside me.

I tell him I am going to torment him, I grab his cock and press my finger against his pee-hole. Wiggling it so it presses inside, I tell him how I am going to carve ginger into a narrow sound and slide it into his dick. It will burn and he will beg me to stop. But before I start he will beg me to do it.

He is laughing and squirming and asking how I will convince him to beg for it. I reach up and grab his nipple in my fingernails and pinch hard. He is moaning and wants to defend his poor nipple but he promised before the two hours started that they are mine. I tell him, "figging your cock, or making your nipples bleed are your choices" He laughs and I know tomorrow I will have the ginger ready.

I swat his ass and roll him back over so I can suck his cock and balls. I lay back and tell him to fuck me.

He is fucking me and biting my nipples and begging to cum. I squirt on him again and tell him to get off me.

I grab his hand and lead him into the shower, showing him the grab bars so he doesn't slip. He wants to fuck so bad, he is sliding his cock between my lips and begging.

I bend over so he can fuck me and he is begging to cum as his balls against me and he buries himself deep. "NO"

He is groaning and I have pushed him against the cool back wall. I bend over and suck his cock into my mouth, sucking hard and biting but not stroking. His hands are in my hair and he is fucking my face and I pull away and slap him.

"NO"

I turn off the shower and hand him a towel so he can dry me off, once I am dry I hand him another towel so he can dry himself off. Direct him to dress.

I come out to the living room with my strap on. He wants me to fuck him so badly. I show him how it looks. He comes in close and rubs my cock in his hand. "Yes I can feel that on my clit" He smiles and kisses me. I take it off and get dressed.

Drive him to his meeting, telling him as we go that I will message him everytime I cum and he will not cum until the next time he sees me. And he best be doing a whole lot of begging or he won't cum then.

We will see how he does...