I’ll Tell You No Lies – Question Time Once More
I thought I would go down the Lent route for this week’s question – and remember: please do think of your own posers to throw at me. I was offput that nobody asked me a question last time, especially as I had some great responses to what I put to you! Again, if you want to find out a little more about me do feel free to ask me (almost) anything. It could be sexual or it could be general questions about my favourite type of… curry for example. You may like to know what I really hate in bed. I have few qualms. Check out my other posts in this vein to get the feel of things. If you’re a new reader this is the perfect opportunity to explore the character, likes and dislikes of yours truly, Pandorah.
What would you find challenging to abstain from for 40 days?
For me, I think I would opt for simply the act of kissing. I adore having a smooch with Mister. He’s such a good kisser. When we first met I had had very little experience with the male species. Late developer, I had never kissed a boy before him. Boys are scary to me. Well, ones that show an interest in me are at any rate. Timid old bird I am at heart. I may flirt like hell at times, but to take initiative on those feelings freaked me out. On our first date together, I thought – What have I got to lose? and went all out in ‘The First Kiss’ we shared. Tongues and everything. Mister was taken aback at the brazen-ness. Since that moment I have fallen in love with the notion of kissing. Especially with my man. Be it a peck on the cheek, the most sensual, slow and desirous kiss where your hands are in each other’s hair, roaming over their body, slipping under clothes to have that contact with flesh, or even kissing other parts of their body (especially kissing certain parts of their body!). I often fantasise about being involved in a clinch with a lady and mostly what we are doing is kissing – there is innocence and sin mixed in together in the movement, the emotions and flutterings that are in kisses and it is that what I would sorely miss.
I look forward to hearing your thoughts – and get your thinking caps on for a bit of a more dialogic involvement guys and gals! I wanna answer some juicy questions!
Raising the Stakes pt. 2
For Part one, see post below. Oh, go on. I enjoyed writing it.
***
I was in a state of utter submission. Mentally as well as physically. He had so nearly broken me and there was little else left to hide. Or so I thought.
Still tied, face down with my limbs drawn out X-style to the bedposts, my breathing had become deep and protracted. It was the last vestige of any control I could have over myself as he imposed himself expertly with the tasseled whip and with his palm. And teeth. No, I mustn’t be forgetting his bites. On my neck; on my shoulders; on my buttocks. Once quite sharply that made me yelp a little. I had retreated into myself and my main focus was to channel my thoughts into breathing slowly so the sting wouldn’t become too much. It wasn’t pain. I won’t call it that. Pain, for me isn’t a good thing. Pain infers no acknowledgement of the other person. One-sided and purely sadistic. He knew what he was doing to me. He did it for mutual benefit. He made me ache. He made my skin burn and glow. Tingle with desire. Pain, never.
What he did next was to remove that last, singular act of control I had. He made my breathing go wild. He, aptly, raised the stakes. Pausing in his actions, I was dimly aware that he had moved away from the bed. You have to understand that I was quite lost by now. My hands loosened their grasp slightly from the bedframe and I attempted to shift my head over in his direction only to be met with my dark hair clouding my vision. Peering through the strands I was just in time to see him return to the bed with something in his hand. I couldn’t tell what, although I was certain it was a toy. But which one? I felt him place it between my legs, resting there, not touching my skin. Just there for safe-keeping.
…what have you got there?
I managed at least to growl out a few words.
You’ll soon find out.
He had yet to take full advantage of my exposure. His spanking and whipping had had their desired effect and I was well and truly aroused. Twice the tassels had strayed to my pussy and caught my clitoris. *Eek!* that did sting. It was sharp and yes, painful. He recognised it was too much for me and didn’t go there again. Not content with the heightened state I was already in, Mister took things to another level by introducing some tingly lube to the equation. This was the Durex Play brand and, whilst mild, worked a treat. Its tingle took a few seconds to register after application and then I was right back there grasping at my restraints and twisting.
Here was the trump card. If he gets his hands anywhere near my clit, my breathing will start to change. It becomes stilted, uneven when he pushes me beyond my normal boundaries. He toyed, he played, literally had me wrapped round his fingers. He knows which movement will make me gasp this way, and which other flicks will make me moan deeply. When he got me to this stage, he brought in the little friend that was lying between my legs, waiting for its chance to shine.
I gathered as much that it was something to penetrate, but other than that I still was unsure. Then it clicked. It wasn’t hard, like my vibrator, and it was too long to be my little buzzing bullet. Other than that, all we have is….ah. Clever boy. He had brought out the New Toy. My heart leapt in excitement as well as anxiety.
You see, the other month, I saw fit to explore a new avenue of toy. An area we hadn’t yet been to. I bought a few anal toys. To be precise, a butt plug, a little vibrator and a jelly-like pliable and soft double-ended probey thing. It was this third little beauty Mister had decided to break me in with. This is about 5 inches and at one end has four little nodules of ascending size with the other, longer end designed for something deeper. This end was currently being very slowly and deliberately thrust in and out of my pussy. And doing a damn fine job of it (I am a bit of a cock-lover and anything that penetrates will have me in throes very quickly). My voice was low and purring, it was a nice change to the fast paced clitoral stimulation a few minutes ago. Then, of course, the devil, he increased pace with this until my body was awash with flowerings of intense exhilaration. I felt the tingling through my every fibre. To remind me of where things stood, every now and then Mister added a little spank.
He stopped. I knew he was thinking, deliberating about the next obvious step. Noticeably absent, he had removed the toy from my wet folds. Then I felt it. Lightly at first, he began to run the other end up to where we had never really ventured properly with intention before. I was still a little tense, despite everything he had done to break my will, my head was still able to be in a place where I realised that, woah, this is new and different and do I really want to go there? Do I want him to go there? I mean, sure we’ve talked about it and thi….Oh yeah, ooh, that’s actually kinda nice, I wish he’d be a bit braver with it and push in a little fur…ah, there he goes.
Breakthrough!
Mister explored the anal with Pandorah. And It Was Good. Huzzah! Let the choir sing! I was flooded with mixed emotions – relief, excitement of the giggly kind (he’s stuck something up my arse! Teehee!) a tinge of humiliation as well as pure, utter warm and fuzzy loving pleasure. It swamped me. It floored me. Sure it was a little odd; unused to something being There. But it wasn’t bad. Oh No. To double up the happy place I was in, he added his fingers to the mix and carried on flicking my clit with his thumb at the same time as having his fingers inside me.
What I ultimately crave for is him, his cock, inside me. By the time he got round to it, we had been going for well over an hour and a quarter, maybe longer – which is a lot for us to spend on foreplay. Although is it really fair to say that what we had just been through wasn’t technically ’sex’? From where I was lying, I had been pretty much fucked.
Later, looking back as he held me, my shuddering frame trembling from interspersed aftershocks, I noted how, during our exploration, he on and off checked in on how I was, whether it was comfortable for me. Conscientious is a word I’m not overly keen on. It brings to mind school reports I had as a younger girl. But tonight it was a word that echoed in my head as I thought about what he had just done to me. For me. Mister is a passionate lover, a forceful and determined one too. He is also always, always caring of me and loving.
This is what makes the both of us Belong to one another. That trust I feel when I’m with him, what I can feel safe having done by him. What he feels comfortable allowing me to do to him, too.
It was a great hand he played there. I think I should go for the long game more often.
Raising the Stakes pt.1
I’d already lost the bet, so why not take things a little further, I thought. Get him to seal the deal. My luck always changes in cards when I start betting. I knew this. I exploited it.
I leaned into him, to avoid my voice from being heard by the other people in the bar.
How about this: I win the next hand and you get to tie my wrists.
His eye twinkled at this thought.
And if I win?
If you win, you get to tie my wrists…and ankles.
He’d already won the chance to give me a spanking I’d not forget in a hurry. His choice of reward after I decided upon introducing a bit more excitement to the game we were playing. I was doing rather well up until that point. For some unknown reason, it has become a noticed occurrence that whenever we start betting, I inevitably lose. This time, however, although I lost at the cards, I won in the long game.
We walked home a little faster than normal – the cold not the only reason we wanted to be back inside the warmth of our home. Hands slid downwards on backs; eyes glanced upwards (for me at least); he was wearing that wicked glint I love to catch him with. Before too long we were in and I jumped into the shower to warm up my skin, a blistering flash of water to awaken my flesh and to prepare it for what I sensed was going to be a long time out, above the covers. I hate being cold when we’re meant to be sizzling together.
I was given a taste of his mood for the rest of the evening when, after I had moisturised up after my shower, I leaned against the doorframe of the living room I received a cold direction from him.
Go and wait in the bedroom.
Nothing more than that. His eyes were steely, staring intently. It’s not often that he takes that tone with me and when he does it hastily makes me retreat into myself. I felt myself physically shrink back at his words. There was nothing to do but obey with that simple directive. I went and I waited. Still in my towel to retain my heat, I curled up on the bed and listened to his movements in the other room. I heard the door to the balcony (yes we have a balcony!) open and close – he was smoking outside before he would come in to me. I knew that gave me about three or four minutes to gather my thoughts. Should I get anything ready for him? The toys? No, better let him make the decisions.
When he came into the bedroom something in me was hesitant to look up to meet his glance. Damn, he’s good at this game.
Still in your towel? You better take it off and turn over. Face down.
So, there was to be no preamble. Straight to it. I couldn’t wait. As I moved, he went over to the wardrobe and took out his ’supplies’. Four lengths of various ropes, scarves and our longer blindfold which were to be my restraints for the night. They stayed there, after this night, for two days. I liked seeing them there – reminding me of this night. Upon seeing the blindfold I asked if I was going to be restricted completely.
No, not tonight. I want to see your face. I want to see your reactions in full.
One by one, he teased out my limbs and stretched them over to each corner of the bed where he had attached one end of the individual ropes. As is usual, my hesitancy continued when he began moving my legs apart to complete the deal. That level of exposure – my pussy open to him in full view. It made me anxious, vulnerable. He could smell the scent of my moisturiser – I consciously chose the one that gets him all heady. Joining that, undoubtedly, was the rising scent of my arousal as I started to get wet in anticipation. I tested how well he had restrained me – I wouldn’t want to disappoint him by escaping. After all his hard work. Just enough give to wriggle and writhe. I was to be grateful for that leeway later.
As I relaxed back into the linen, my head nestled between the two sets of pillows he set on me with immediate venom. Certainly, there was to be no preamble, I thought after the sting. The tassled whip had been brought out over my buttocks, about four welts-worth. The shock was vivid enough for me to grab onto my wrist-ties. I could feel him now, as he likes to do, bending down over me, leaning in to the nape of my neck, that presence, that masculine presence of his over me. One deep kiss of my neck was followed by a harsh bite into my shoulder before he quickly raised himself up and brought the whip back down onto my skin. This time twice on the arse, followed by two sharp stings to the shoulders.
I had forgotten that I said he could branch out from just spanking, whipping etc my arse. I remembered that I had mentioned he could explore my shoulders too. Then I remembered the other places I told him he could extend his wrath to.
The heat of the whip’s bite pulsed through my thighs as he tested out the rest of my body. I didn’t know where he would strike next. That delicious sense of unknowing, powerless, helplessness flooded me and I gave in to the feelings, the sensations – his sting coupled with his loving embraces. He would always follow a series of blasts with a tender phase of strokings, kisses and the lighter spanking of his hand.
I had been reduced to a hub of sensation, my higher thinking skills had been flung out of the window. All I could do was anticipate, react and enjoy everything he was doing to me. I showed my enthusiasm through my moans and stilted gasps, my writhing responses and with my blissed out expressions.
I was to experience a further raising of stakes of his own devising very soon.
And you thought cucumbers were dirty…
An advert for PETA.
Apparently.
See what you make of it. It’s late, so I’ll have my own say on it tomorrow. I won’t reveal just yet whether my say is positive or negative.
Ok, So now it is the daytime I am gonna rant on this.
To begin with, after I found this via someone’s Twitter posting, my initial reaction was something along the lines of: ‘Er….um….what..?’ Then it turned to: ‘You’ve got to be kidding me!?’ Before ending up as: ‘Grr’. Whilst the ladies are all very pretty, yes yes, and they have some very nice underwear, indeed they do, this has absolutely fuck all to do with the ethical treatment of animals. As Elle mentions in her comment – sex sells and it appears that the makers of this advert have pretty much taken that idea and jarred the two concepts together. Vegetarianism + Sex = Money.
Firstly, what has vegetarianism got to do with the ethical treatment of animals? I completely agree (obviously, duh) that animals should be treated ethically within the food industry. The definition of ‘ethical’ is ‘pertaining to the right and wrong in conduct; being in accordance with rules or standards for right practice’, and whilst it may not be perfect, the powers that be are taking steps to improve the standards of animal welfare in the industry all the time. Especially after the media interest in the UK over the last few years. Bombarded with campaigns to ensure that we eat organic, locally produced food. Free range chickens, corn-fed etc. which is great. But, what the hell this has to do with the skimpy ladies?
This is an American advert and it was banned from being aired. For obvious reasons. Overtly sexual, the girls cavorting with their broccoli and asparagus are simply too much for the everyday Joe. And what’s with the pumpkin licking?! I was almost hysterical after that along with the stew that one girl seems to be making in her hot tub.
My second point of grr-ness may have me echoing Chandler, but I’ll take the risk anyway: Where are all the men? Is this some oddly targeted campaign just for men to turn veggie? Maybe PETA think that guys may not be channeled into considering vegetarianism as much as women may. Yet, the majority of vegetarians/vegans I have met were actually guys. As is ILB (waves). Again, I say this coming from UK – US may differ. I can’t be arsed to look up the stats – I’m not that inflamed. Why not have a guy or two to even out the gender balance here? I might have wanted to see a hunky, toned, probably topless in boxers man covet a couple of tomatoes or even get jiggy with a hollowed out butternut squash, but it seems that no – if they are going to attack me with this idea, I would obviously want to see the girlies run amok.
The message that the advert is trying to get across – that Vegetarians make better lovers – isn’t supported by anything in this advert. The viewer is simply presented with this information and nothing to back it up, no hard facts or figures. I popped along to the official PETA and related websites to find this proof. The first place I found discussed some of the reasons why NBC rejected showing this during the Super Bowl. The writer says: ‘I’ll admit, it’s not the Jonas Brothers eating apple pie, but it sure does drive home the fact that vegetarians make better lovers’ – Erm, no it doesn’t, actually. It drives home the fact that women look hot in underwear and shadow. It drives home the fact that even vegetables can be sexy with the right music and accompanying fingering. The writer links to other PETA infosites where it claims that people who regularly eat meat are more at risk of developing high cholesterol levels, prostrate cancer which can be causes of impotence. Ahh…Here’s why it’s an advert for men! Finally. Took a while to get that fact out though.
One thing I did quite like, however, was in the first few frames. A work-lady appears with her back to us, dressed in a long mac; drops her bag/briefcase and prompty undresses revealing just her frillies. Nice idea. Impractical. She’d have to keep her coat on all day, surely, for fear of exposing her lingerie. Although, I often come home and I am very quick to get undressed. Most times it is into my civvies, and on occasion, just undressed to slink into bed with Mister. Or slink onto the couch with him.
This did make me smile – but only in the annoyingness of PETA. Arguably it fails as an advert that should be designed to raise awareness of the product/service which is the charity. After watching this, I wanna go watch some porn, not give a donation. But then again it has raised awareness of the name, directs you to a website and ultimately it has gained an emotional response from the viewer so…PETA Fail/Win? Depends on your idea of what adverts should be.
To summarise:
Dear Peta,
Please consider clarifying your message to the world. You are an animal charity, not a porn industry. If in the future you feel the urge to echo elements again, for Pete’s sake, add in some men. Even for the lady to share her time with the veg with the man as well.
Regards, LadyP
And yes. I do know that it was made with good intentions and with a bit of fun. I’m still grr at it.
I’ll tell you no lies…Question Time!
Time for another request for questions from any readers out there.
Whether you’re a regular peruser, casual visitor or even if this is your first time plundering of my blog – I’d love to field a few questions if you have any! Once again, you can ask me just about anything, and not necessarily sex/kink related either. I’ll be as truthful and give it as much depth as I can. It may lead to a post of its own if I find that I have a lot to say on the topic.
In return, I have a little poser of my own for you…
What are your sexual addictions? What could you just not do without or would make you despair if you could never have/do it again?
My answer to this would probably be something as simple as Mister. I am completely addicted to him, everything about him – his manner with me as well as other people, his personality, his looks (I could drink in his image all day, not to mention his gorgeous arse), his musical talents and obviously, his sexual side. I find my self craving him – not just the sex, him. I often can’t seem to keep my hands off him, wanting that physical connection with some piece of his flesh – brushing the nape of his neck with my fingers, a quick lick of his ear with my tongue; I’m trouble when it comes to Mister.
Twitterpated
‘Psst!’
‘What?’
‘Have you heard?’
‘Heard what?’
‘You know that cool naughty blog, right?’
‘Which one? There’s so many cool naughty blogs out there – Blacksilk, ILB, Elle’s place, LS, EA…’
‘No, another cool naughty blog – Lady Pandorah’
‘Ah! Yes, I like her – she’s wicked’
‘Well, she’s got herself all modernised and shit and has now got a Twitter account’
‘Oh, fabulous….What’s Twitter?’
‘It’s where you can be nosy on your friends, or in this case blog people on teh intarweb and find out what they’re thinking and doing at regularly updated intervals’
‘How do I follow her?’
‘Well, if you too have a Twitter account, you can search her out by name and add her to your list of people you follow being nosy’
‘Right, I’m sold. I’ll tottle off to do that immediately! I wanna see if this social experiment is worth anything…’
Must I Paint you a Picture?
Dipping the tip of the soft brush into the well of massage oil that the candle had created, I started by tracing out my initial on the centre of his back. Between the shoulder blades the massage oil swept over his skin smoothly to form my mark. It’s not a complicated letter so he guessed it fairly quickly. I followed this warm-up with his initial – he was pretty good at this game.
Holding the brush between my teeth as I rubbed over my first attempts, I took hold of it once again to replenish the supply of oil. Time for something a little more complex. A word this time. Letter by letter I spelt it out as he named each brush-stroke’s delicate formation.
M
I
N
E
That made him exhale in mild amusement. Sensing his playfulness, I quickened the pace of each letter of the next word to see if I could catch him out. Each time a word was correctly guessed, I praised him with a loving rub over his oh-so-yummy back. This was fun. I was enjoying myself. Wanting things to progress further, I spelt out my next command for him.
T
U
R
N
O
V
E
R
He quickly complied.
Good boy.
As he turned, his erection was plain to see. He is always so turned on by my massages, and he was enjoying this new experience at least as much as I was. My eyes always linger on that spot after he turns over. He looks so damn good when he’s naked and aroused. It was hard to keep focus. I brought the candle over and gently tilted it to test its dripping capabilities. Again, it was very mild in temperature and when he tried it out on me the following night I was surprised at just how mild the heat was – barely noticeable above body temperature, tepid if you wish.
The candle itself is held within a glass container and the screw-thread of its lid caused the oil to drip down the side of the glass, which was a little messy and didn’t quite have the effect of a proper wax candle. An unfortunate side-effect is that it habitually came into contact with the sheets/duvet cover and created an oily patch, so if you look into going down this route – be prepared for messy bits! But unless you’re retentive about making a mess during sex, this shouldn’t dampen your spirit of fun.
I played with the oil, letting it fall onto his chest, stomach and of course the nice temperature allowed me to drizzle a few spots onto his cock – a delightful sight, all slippy and slidey once my hand had been there. Honestly, my mouth was watering after this and a sneaky few light kisses and licks up his shaft and head may have escaped my lips. I’m proud to say I’m a lot more generous than I used to be when it comes to oral sex, having started out with a slight aversion to it, I am now finding myself yearning to go down on him sometimes. I think his compliments have helped mightily. Apparently I’m very good 
Anyway…
Mister showed his appreciation for my attention to detail by going and switching on me – as he usually does – fired up from the massage he manoeuvred himself over me and returned the favour of the massage with his own, wonderful talents on my breasts and then turning me over onto my back. Feeling the warm oil made a welcome change from the at times chilly stuff we’re used to. I do so hate the cold. Cheekily, he dripped the oil over my arse making me wriggle as it slid between my buttocks, following the liquid’s movements with his own fingers, trailing over my skin then down between my legs. My moans were low and guttural – the sound of a highly turned on LadyP. The heady mix of the oil’s aroma and Mister’s concentrated focus on my pussy led to a series of intense orgasms, leaving me gasping into the pillows and clasping onto the sheets.
All I can say is – if you haven’t tried it, go and buy a massage candle. They are wonderful. Really, really wonderful. It sets you at ease, relaxes you and leads into some very fun, sensual sex. And who knows, it may even lead to try out wax-play.
