Diary Of A Fisting

I grew apprehensive fear as I tried to anticipate how he would respond. He might whip me or worse still use his heavy buckled belt on me. I would be cut, bruised or both. By my actions I had given him permission to react in any way he saw fit. You see I trust him, that is the nature of S&M relationships. The submissive partner puts their personal safety in the hands of the dominant partner.

HIS DIARY:

I take off my belt, she stiffens in expectation of the blow. I slip the belt through the collar take her to the studio. Replace the simple plastic handcuffs with leather buckled ones. Put a blindfold on her. Using a strap I fastened her shackles to the top of her studio easel.

We often improvise, the studio easel is a sturdy, heavy structure made of wood. Its stable design makes it ideal as a bondage accessory. Then I went to the bedroom, to N's toy drawer.

HER DIARY:

When I am hanging by my arms I feel especially vulnerable. He has absolute access to my body. Without using the safe word and bringing the whole session to an end I cannot deny him whatever he desires. I can hear him in the bedroom rummaging through the box. I still have no idea what he intends to do to me.

HIS DIARY:

I leave her alone. The sensory depravation of the blindfold will heighten the tension for her. The victim, I say victim advisedly, for although the submissive gives themselves voluntarily it is the duty of the dominant to accept the role of master and disciplinarian. The victim's own imagination will when the victim is alone, psychologically torment her or him far more effectively than any non violent act the dominant might do. Whilst I am in the bedroom I removed my jacket, shirt shoes and socks. Tonight as a special treat she will feel my leather clad body next to her.

HER DIARY:

My legs are being forced apart, he is inserting something into me - its soft it is not the rolling pin - its big - it must be the Warrior, twelve inches of latex penis accurate with veins and corrugations. Thank god he has lubricated it. He pushes it up and up deep into my womb. Now he's doing something else. I feel as if I am being cleaved in half, as I imagine stone must feel when it is being quarried with wedges. I don't know what is going on - I only know this is painful and beautiful at the same time.

HIS DIARY

I am giving her a two way doing, first the Warrior now the smaller vibrator up her anus. The whole of the area is being stretched open.

HER DIARY

They are buzzing he has turned them on, it's a weird sensation they are not synchronised each does its own thing and they are separated by a mere strip of skin. In themselves they would be exciting, having it done like this is sublime.

HIS DIARY:

She is enjoying this, so much so it is not only her cunt that is dribbling. I toy with the idea of whipping her with the vibrators still inside her, but if I did we may not do other things. It is easy for both of us to get carried away, then by the time the whipping has finished she will be too damaged to carry on.

HER DIARY:

I was just getting into that when he turned off the vibrators and withdrew them. He said his first words - how long has he been in the house, and not spoken all that time. "I want to fist you now." He said as he loosened the tie holding my arms above my head. I responded, "I want you too - give it to me hot and sweet just crack me open, do it."

HIS DIARY:

As soon as I had undone her tie I hustled her into the bedroom. Once again I fastened her arm bonds, this time to the bed-head. I remove her blindfold.

HER DIARY:

I hate this bit lying on the bed open-legged whilst he sets the camcorder running, but I am always fascinated watching the mechanics of what happens to me. I tried looking in a mirror but there is no comparison with watching afterwards on a large screen T.V.

HIS DIARY:

She co-operated by opening her legs. I applied a liberal coating of KY Jelly to my hand. To get more comfortable or in anticipation she wriggled her buttocks.

With my left hand I parted her already distended labia. Tucking my thumb in I made an arrow-head of my glistening right hand. Gently, middle finger first I began to insert my hand into her vagina. When all my fingers were in, only the knuckles and back of my hand still visible I paused.

HER DIARY

This bit never hurts and he is so slow, I am sure that he is deliberately teasing me. It will hurt in a minute when he pushes the swelling of his knuckle through my pelvic bone. "Go on get on with it." I hear myself shouting. I hear the crack as the bone separates. The force vibrates through my body. With the intensity of a lightening bolt the stinging pain caused by the dislocation of my pubic bone sears through my body. The bang as it went echoing in my head. My womb is a warm sea. The nerves in my groin are in a state of total confusion, joy signals and pain signals all coming from the same area. Oh God! He is not stopping. I can feel his hand stretching my stomach as he pushes into me.

HIS DIARY:

The folds of her vagina feel as slippery and gentle as wet velvet. Until I reach the bone it is a voyage of exploration pushing aside swathes of curtains. I hear a "snick" as the bone gives.

Her pelvis assumes the profile of a Gothic Arch. When this occurs it always strikes me as appropriate that her sex, her Temple of Love so readily confirms it's divine status, by conforming to the precepts of Renaissance ecclesiastical architecture. I am the creator of the temple and the worshipper of this divine being.

The vibrator has already opened her womb, my fingers enter what feels like the neck of a drawer string bag it opens. Using only moderate force I slide my hand in until I can only see my forearm above the wrist.

Her body recovering from the shock of my entry reacts. Like a python her love tube grips and squeezes my hand, only the fingers in her cavernous womb remain free.

HER DIARY:

I feel my body tense squeezing his hand as it seeks to eject the foreign object. The squeeze excites me, the pain is nothing when compared to the intensity of the pleasure. My whole cunt goes into spasms squeezing, relaxing as another warm wave of cum is released. He tells me I am drowning his fingers - it feels wetter than a washing machine.

HIS DIARY:

This is power she is impaled on my arm like a giant ventriloquists dummy. I've got pins and needles in my hand, to try and restore my circulation I move my fingers.

HER DIARY:

It feels like he is trying to rip me apart, he says he only twitched his fingers to restore his circulation. His finger presses on my bladder I want to pee. If I say anything he will tell me to do it.

HIS DIARY:

Good God look at what she is doing with her hand. How randy can you get she is masturbating herself. She's got that look in her face. If she only relaxed she'd piss herself and we would have a golden shower going. I move closer to her cunt ready to lap up the golden fluid.

HER DIARY:

I cannot stand the pressure any longer. Relax. Relax. Just let it go. It stings as it flows out, his tongue laps at my labia as he drinks me in. Kinky bitch fancy enjoying this.

HIS DIARY:

The fluid seeps so slowly past my wrist that hardly any is not lapped up. How can I express the joy of tasting her fluid, a delicate cocktail of urine and cum, the salty sweetness with an extra delicate muskiness. Now truly I am partaking of a carnal communion.

As her bladder empties there is more room for my fingers. Gently I pump my arm, expelling the last of her wine. I pump my arm with greater vigour. Her abdomen ripples tracing the passage of my knuckles deep inside her. Warm waves of cum flow from appoint high up in her womb.

HER DIARY

It is fortunate that I have not eaten since lunch-time, it feels as if I am being punched in the stomach, which I suppose is exactly what he is doing. I want to be sick but there is nothing to bring up.

I am literally in his hands it is a measure of how much I trust him. If he wanted to he could tear me apart. What a morbid thought! Why would he want to hurt me like that? There is no reason, but straight people, people who do not understand S&M would not understand the essentials of love and trust in this relationship.

This is getting to be too much I have to ask him to stop. No don't take it out just don't move, give me a chance to relax. He says OK but I can still feel movement.

HIS DIARY:

She asked me to stop moving, with my hand motionless she crushes my hand in a pulsating vice like grip. Again she has asked me not to move to let her relax. I laugh telling her that it is she who is moving not me. Each time she contracts she gasps with pain and fresh dampness jets around my fingers.

HER DIARY:

How can you be afraid of pleasure. Yet I am afraid I am cumming as if there is a tap somewhere deep inside me. My cunt seems to have developed a life of its own outside his or my control. Breath deeply, regulate my breaths and I will regain some semblance of control.

HIS DIARY:

One handed I take two cigarettes from the pack, light them pass one to her. Joined hand to pussy we lie smoking. Even as we lie still I still feel her cumming. The muscles of her abdomen corrugate foretelling the event and ripple as she achieves yet another climax.

HER DIARY:

If only I can relax I will be able to enjoy what is happening. Maybe it is my upbringing, perhaps it is against the Christian ethic, but it always seems to be extremely sinful to lie bathed in the warm glow of cum, after cum, after cum, after cum to a point where I experience an altered state of mind. I am in a reality at odds with everyday life, in my own private world where cumming has become the norm.

Since I have been with him sex has been a none stop adventure, he always says. "If you haven't tried it don't knock it."

That is how I got into this fisting kick. We were curled up on the sofa at his place watching a porno video. This woman sat on a Champagne bottle and took the whole thing up inside her, then after that she was with a man who put his hand up her.

"I could never do that." I declared.

To which he replied, "Why not?"

I said I'd be afraid the bottle would break - I am still afraid to try a bottle. The idea of it shattering scares me to death. He agreed that bottles did look a bit risky then he said what about a hand! I said what any woman would say, no I'm too small to take a whole hand. He said nonsense, I'd had three children. "Think about how big a new-born baby is compared to a hand."

I thought - fifteen minutes I was on my back, with my legs open. At first it hurt like hell, it always hurts like hell. Then when I started to cum it all became worthwhile. Not only did I cum more in a short space of time than I had ever done before, but each cum was so much more intense than I had ever known before. The whole experience was so magical I knew that I would have to repeat it.

Ouch he's moving again.

HIS DIARY:

My hand and fingers are searing with the pain of pins and needles. Her muscle at the entrance has caught my wrist so hard that I think the circulation is stopped I have to move it a bit. I glance back and up at the camera, the red light has gone out - we have been here over an hour. She must have seen my look. "Do you want to stop and put in another tape?"

"Do you want to stop?"

"For a while yes." She smiles, she gives this really innocent looking smile, as if butter would not melt in her mouth, then she added with a wicked smirk. "Or we could do something else."

I began to carefully withdraw my hand, pausing whenever one of her spasms gripped my hand. Care at this stage is as important as during entry.

HER DIARY:

As his hand came down I was still cumming. Try as I might to control my body, I still tensed as his knuckles neared the entrance, knowing from experience that as they came through the ring of bone the pain would be excruciating.

If before I had a tap in my womb, now a veritable shower has been turned on as the dislocated pelvic bone was moved by his knuckles.

His hand is out. What does he plan to do next. Shit that hurts - he's massaging the entrance to my cunt - it must be bruised.

HIS DIARY:

This is what really turns me on looking at her sex when it is swollen and sore. I can see just about every hue known to man from delicate pink, through fiery reds, to the deepest of dark purples. I lower my head to salute her coral grotto my tongue flicks out ….

HER DIARY:

His tongue flicks my clit with a volley of velvet wet blows, languorous licks lambaste the labia on each side of my aroused clitoris. Churning wetly my cunt, my abdomen rapidly boil subsiding to dissolve into a pleasurable glow. But rest does not come for his insistent exploring tongue is once again stoking the fire of my passion. As he tongues me he shifts his position so that now he is straddling me. His knees almost resting on my shoulders.

Undoing the zip I free his erect prick from its leather case. I pull the jeans a little way down his thighs his balls and cock are free. The purple headed rampant rod, its shaft gnarled with veins inflated with boiling blood lowers slowly towards my face. I know what he wants, the cyclopean purple head prods at my lips.

I tease him by keeping them closed. His thrusting prods become more demanding, the ramrod knocks on my lips demanding entry. There is a moment of fear, the fear I feel every time. Fear of not being able to breath. Fear of being unable to control my throat's reflex desire to urge. Readying myself to swallow I moisten my mouth, then allow my lips to yield.

His hard flesh spears into my mouth, I swallow furiously as the tip lodges in the back of my throat. I have to match my breathing to his thrusts as he draws back I breath in, the next time he draws back I breath out and so on.

The knowledge that I have totally submitted to him make my climaxes uncontrollable. Even if he stopped licking my pussy I would still run. This is the absolute in domination scenes, no safe words, no way to call a halt, I simply have to trust him.

HIS DIARY:

As her lips part I drive into her mouth. My skin tingles as her teeth graze the length of my prick. This is sex moving into the end-game, played out with a pretence of violence and non-consensuality. I can feel her epiglottis pulsating against the tip of my cock as she swallows hard to ease my entry into her throat. This is the best sex imaginable, beneath me a woman in total submission, I am in complete control of her body, my motion as I screw her mouth regulates her breathing. I fight not to think about what I am doing lest I reach my peak too quick, but conversely I have to think so as to savour every masterful moment.

I try setting my conscious mind simple mathematical problems in a vain attempt to prolong the bliss. But soon all too soon my cock jerks into life and in an all too brief moment of pure joy my spunk flows in pulses.

HER DIARY:

Really it is over in seconds, but at the time it is an eternity, when I think that I will surely drown as his hot sticky fluid chokes off my breathing and jets directly into my throat. Fighting I swallow and swallow and swallow u until at last the flow stops, his cock-head ceases to plug my throat and his cock lies limpening, and lifeless in my mouth. Lovingly I tongue and suck the last drops of his fluid from it and hold him to me. It is only then that I become aware of the harshness of his jeans zip against my face.

HIS DIARY

Both of us are sated - for now, no need to dwell on motivation subconscious impulses or have any guilt this is sex as we like it and that is all that counts.