Lady Pandorah's Sanctuary of Sensuality

The lights were low and the stage was ready for them. Opening night for a new bar in a certain city I live near. They were the first act. From my vantage point I could see the slow filter of people drifting through the doors. The small dance area glittered from the dancing lights hitting the mirrors on the walls that highlighted the poles. My thoughts nearly strayed to wondering if I would chance upon any ladies taking advantage of those later on, but it wasn’t really that kind of place to warrant pole-dancers. Unfortunately. Although, from my experience, the people I have witnessed use them would have benefitted from knowing at the very least how to use the poles to some degree of co-ordination.

Luckily, my eyes were to be drawn in the opposite direction, glued to a particular spot. Stage-right, bass. It’s one thing to hear him practising without electrification, quite another to hear him plugged in. Part of the unit. My severe attack of the killer sniffles was forgotten for the time being as my attentions were channelled at what I had been waiting for over six years to happen. Mister. On stage. Playing live.

The experience didn’t disappoint. So what if there were a few hiccups; the second song had to be started again and the singer’s vocals were not as audible as they could have been. For me, as I relayed to him afterwards, to see people coming in through the doors and immediately start dancing was a sign of a success. Achievement.

I may not have been able to drag him off stage as I would have dreamed of doing to congratulate him (due to sniffles and tiredness – it was nearly midnight when they ended), when we returned home quite later, I did as well as my broken self could by holding him close to me and saying how happy I was to have witnessed him finally go live.

Thankfully, the next night I had recovered somewhat and the Minx had her turn to congratulate her Rogue. But that’s another animal entirely, and shall be regaled at some point soon!

He was looking at me in a particular way as I sat at my desk yesterday afternoon. I had noticed it was the same glance he had given me when we stopped momentarily at the traffic lights on the way home from work.

What is it? I asked as he crept up behind me and started rubbing my shoulders (I was hunched over the printer. I have an ongoing war with my Epson. Each battle is arduous, with neither party giving up much ground).

Oh, nothing.

No, really – what’s up with you today?

I miss you when you’re not here.

He whispers to me such indecencies. The things he speaks of he knows fully what they do to me. Where those words strike hard. The voice that speaks to the soul’s desires. It is not an event that occurs often; in fact, his honeyed words will frequently tip my mind over that precarious precipice to plummet into the velvety depths of debauchery, but it is rare that they can do it so immediately as when he speaks to me of bondage.

The words call out to me. Trigger words flash into my ears, striking me with their implications.

Stripped.

Shackled.

Tied.

Punished.

Pleasured.

Until you scream.

My throat goes dry, I feel the need to lick my lips, breathe open-mouthed. My heart about to leap through my chest.

And then he drives me further. He tries to change the subject to something other than that which is having me shudder as I lie next to him. He then speaks of what some of my fantasies have been fuelled by. His first gig. He has one this Friday. I shall be seeing him on stage for the first time. That, to me, is almost as heart-poundingly erotic as his talk of bondage. It has been a six-year dream for me to see my man on the stage. My thirst is about to be slaked.

Too much. He spoke of far too many possibilities for a girl like me. I could feel my skin pricking with heat, it was emanating from me, I wanted to explode from the passion. My fingers were twitching, I couldn’t keep still. My naked movement coupled with the conversation had also had an effect on him and as I turned round and almost launched myself at him, straddling his body, his wicked smile appeared. He is cunning. Planned or not, he had woken the Minx and not only did she want to play, she wanted to conquer.

The pent-up energy he had generated in me was released in that first kiss. It was strong and violent, my teeth bit into him, it made him jolt. He hadn’t expected that. As I clutched him, I was dimly aware that my nails were digging into his shoulder and side. I reduced the pressure. A little. Already my breathing was shaking making my whole body jitter, my hair tingling down onto his skin from where I hovered above him, a slight threat with my arms at either side of his body.

No words were spoken after that, he had said all he needed to.

I began riding him, my hips driving the pace, him bucking his own hips beneath me. He soon flipped me over onto my side, kissing his way into my hair, finding my neck and inhaling me. I love it when he does that.

It was frantic, the speed maddeningly fast. We changed again and he placed me lying on my front and thrust hard into me from behind. That always makes my moans softer, quieter, keening out from deep within. I can feel the intensity burning through me in that position. And he holds me down, presses me into the mattress, clutching onto my hair, grasping and pulling and I look back and see his eyes are staring coldly down at me but possessed with so much love and heat and desire.

It’s too much for us both.

We stop breathing for a second, he calls out, that sound of utter loss of control and whole-feeling. His moan trips me up into another climax, we both press ourselves to one another, wanting that complete fusion.

It’s all too much and there are no words but those three that are the only ones that flood my mind.

He says them before I can gather back my power of speech.

Bit of an update on what’s been keeping my from blogging. Juicier post currently in the making!

For the journey home I turn on the auto-pilot. I drift on that familiar path back home, returning to the comfort of my own surroundings, my territory. He hears my keys in the door and even before I have crossed the threshold he calls to me, greeting me with a welcome grin and crinkled eyes. He doesn’t have to hear the response from me to know whether it has been a hard, stressful day or a lighter one. The days are always good, and I have smiled and laughed at times, but it can be a stressful effort getting to those smiles and the laughs.

And with the cycling I have now madly taken up at least twice a week, I have more reason to wish myself to shut down on getting through that door. Mister is very keen on my cycling. Not only does it mean he won’t be pestered for Taxi service at 8:00am, he also sees the benefit of a muscly LadyP. He’s been eyeing up my thighs like the witch from Hansel and Gretel. Hunger fills his face when he talks of it. He seems to have a strange predilection for wanting me to feel my legs press against him as he licks me.

The massages have been wonderful. Skilled and soothing, they ease my knots and aches in my back and legs. The scent from the oil helps to zone me out and go to that headspace where there is just him and me, nothing else at all.

I have been craving some deep playing with boundaries lately. By that I mean I want to be tied and used, spanked, clawed and thoroughly ravaged by him. I want the Wolf to try and tame the Minx. He can try, she may be subdued temporarily, but she will come striking back. I want him to make me shudder from pleasure, pain, taking too much and going over the edge. I need to completely become lost in his eyes. For me, that is the ultimate respite I can get. To be taken away from everything in my mind that keeps me awake at night, removed from sense, reason, hindsight and logic. Replaced with cause and effect, the immediacy of my surroundings. The then and the there.

I need a break. To be broken.

Then I will pick up the pieces and be refreshed. The old self shed and renewed.

She was followed into the bathroom. That was her first clue. As she turned on the faucets and stepped into the already steaming stream of water she had heard the door open and close softly. This was not going to be as long a shower as she had planned. Her second clue that he was up to something of an altogether less innocent nature was his head peeking around the shower curtain. The material twitched and she jumped in faux-shock to look at him scoldingly.

He wanted a show, did he? She would give him something to wish he was in there with her too. Looking coyly over her shoulder at him, she reached down to grasp the shower gel. Squeezing just the right amount into her palm, she rubbed her hands together, almost as if in glee; the heady scent of the gel released into the confined space. She started with her front and in turning to face him at the other end of the bath she began to move her soapy hands over her body. One hand traced around her breasts, the suds playfully shrouding her nipples in bubbles before making a trail down her chest to her stomach and further below.

His eyes watched every movement of her hands. They saw her other hand reach in slowly between her legs, four fingers slinking away out of sight momentarily before teasingly quickly moving back over her thigh. She knew what she was doing. Her eyes followed his intently. When each pair met, the sparks were palpable. Moving back under the shower head, she drenched her skin in the hot water. The bubbles glistened away, down from her shoulders, the stream of liquid flowing over those breasts he adored to lick and kiss with so much abandon. It was too much.

Get out now he said. It wasn’t as much an order, more of a plea. A call to our better natures. The taps were closed, the curtain drawn. She couldn’t resist the playful flick of water in his general direction. The spots of water on his shirt made her smile with her mini-mischief. She took the towel from the rail and began to dry herself. A simple action, but with the audience she had, it too had become a performance. The casual way she bent over to dry along her legs was transformed into a play of the way she massaged her muscles, up once more to that tantalising spot between her legs. All her focus went into that task so that when she was upright once more looking into the mirror in front of her, she was met with a now naked man in the reflection. He had taken off his clothes now.

The towel was wrenched from her frame. She had worked him up to this, really. That teasing was bound to have the sexual effect of a pressure cooker boiling up inside him.

He grabbed her by the hips and drew her close to him. Coiling his arms around her, snake-like, restricting her completely yet making her feel so wanted, desired. So his. A hand went up to her breasts, flicking over the nipples and gently kneading the flesh under his fingers. She watched in the reflection. Seeing his hands now move over her skin in the same manner as hers had. She saw his head lean in to her neck as he kissed his way down onto her collar bone. It was all she could do to stop her knees from buckling that instant. He made her control over her upright status even more tasking by placing his fingers directly over her clit and moist lips and thoroughly testing her resolve. As soon as he had her like this, she was completely his and all she could do was stare back at him in the mirror inbetween the gasps, moans and far-away pleasure-dominated mindlessness her eyes closed to.

Without losing contact with her pussy, he swivelled himself around her so he faced those eyes he loved to delve into with his own gaze. So much of his hold over her was through the eye contact. Something they both understood and appreciated. Acknowledging her precarious lack of balance from his extremely close attention, he eased her backwards until the middle of her back touched the metal towel rail. Now with that small bit of extra support, he could really go to town. The slight discomfort of the cool metal against her skin, the rigid feeling of its presence, all added to the atmosphere of immediacy their actions were taking now. With her hands free she could now lever herself so one leg was entwined around one of his, one arm holding onto his back, at one instant for support, at the next clawing and raking her nails in reaction to a particularly powerful jolt delivered by his fingers that were now all over, around and inside of her. The wildcat was on show now. The Minx that bit, gnawed at his shoulder and growled at the man that was delivering so much pleasure, driving her so far over her limits, making her shout out, echoing in the tiled-wall room.

Of course, her other hand was naturally drawn to his cock, that wonderful part of him she found herself hypnotised by. Her hand wrapped around the shaft and her thumb lightly traced along the rim of his head. The way she knew he liked it. It was all too much for both of them and he again manouvered her to his wishes. She now found herself bent forward with her forearms rested on the sides of the sink. She thought about how it all must look, with her positioned like that, so open, so willing, waiting for what she knew was about to happen. The sluttiness of it all. It turned her on even more.

In that time she had those thoughts, he had turned to retrieve the small foil packet he had dutifully squirrelled away in preparation for his dirty conspiracy to have some bathroom fun. With that seen to, he took her by the hips and directed his cock into her with one deliberate thrust. They both sighed with the mutual feeling of satisfaction. That first entry was always so so mouthwateringly fulfilling. As they moved together, she raised herself up ever so slightly so that she could use the mirror for one final act of voyeurism. To see themselves reflected fucking like that drove her to distraction and spurred her on even more. Watching his expressions change from a mixture between smugness and utter happiness to that slight scrunching of his forehead and mouth in that moment before he came sent her over into yet another orgasm from those he had already manually given her.

As they descended from their high, an expression of smugness fell over her face too in the thoughts she was having.

You’ve made me all dirty again. I’ll just have to have another shower. Care to join me?