EXACTLY. 

Now you know why I stay up so late at night, and why my iPad is always completely dead every morning, often tucked under my cheek or slipped partially under the sheets or pillows, where it slid after I just couldn’t keep my eyes open for one more second.  I’m a very, *very* dedicated reader. 

myredbike:

Let me tell you a little story. A story about a woman who liked to read. Not spy novels or romantic literature. Not books about quilting or cooking. She didn’t try to learn a new language or find out about far away places. However, like most forms of reading she did try to stimulate her mind. To discover new things. To expand her horizons.

This woman liked to read about things that would make her heart beat out of her chest. That variety that made her short of breath and looking around to see if anyone was watching. She loved to read the kinds of things that would make her hand move between her legs and find her lips soaked in her own juices.

She knew that it was something good when she couldn’t stop reading and at the same time couldn’t stop touching herself. She needed to know what would happen next in the story. Would it go in the direction she was hoping for or would there be a surprise? Maybe it would be something even more exciting than she imagined. All the while she would run her hands over her breasts. Pinch her hard nipples. Plunge her long fingers between her wet lips.

She would try to read for as long as she could. Attempting to hold herself back. Building up the tension. Not yet. Just that little bit longer. But then at a certain point the book would fall to the ground and she would take her body to ecstasy, giving in to her needs. And depending on how good the read was she would pick up the book once more, keep reading and do it all over again.

She was an enthusiastic reader, this woman. The more she read the more she wanted to do it. She had an insatiable appetite for the written word and all the feelings it gave her. When her mind was stimulated, her body followed!

(Source: auspeitscher)

He’s right: you can tie me up or strip me down, but in the end, it’s my *brain* you have to satisfy.  And the right words will do it for you.  

And here’s a side benefit people sometimes forget: your fingers or mouth or cock will eventually leave my body, and that particular sensation is finished, over, gone.  But your *words* will stay in my head, echoing, flickering to the front of my mind, showing up unannounced during my daily chores and humdrum errands.  

Choose them well and wield them like your most powerful weapon in your sexual arsenal (because that’s what they are).

Your words are a gift that keeps on giving — an investment in my future arousal, and in your future pleasure. 

fringeofdarkness:

On The Power of Words.

I am very straightforward in my enjoyment of a girl’s largest erogenous zone. It lies between her ears, not her legs.  And I take special delight in fucking a girl’s mind long before I touch her body.  

Words are my implements.  Inflection, tone, volume, nuance, and intensity comprise my technique.  If I am effective in wielding these implements, I will be able to make a sapiosexual submissive cum with the sound of my voice alone.  Of course, I extract infinitely more pleasure from the experience if I am able to consummate a mindfuck with a real fuck - down and dirty, deep and full, driving and hungering.

Consider the photo above.  Any good Dominant can position a girl in this manner and use her for his pleasure.  But to bring the moment to an intense crescendo and  a shuddering, powerful climax (or ten), consider the enhancements made with the power of words.  

Imagine, if upon entering the room, I take her by the throat (to direct - not choke) and pin her against the wall, whispering only three words.

“Not a sound.”

Then imagine me fondling her breasts, tweaking her nipples, and running my fingers over her soaking wet cunt lips.  

“Mmmmm……goood girl.  You look and feel beautiful tonight.”

I would strip her clothes from her body, leaving only her garter, hose, and fuck-me heels.  After spinning her around, I would grab a handful of her hair, press her face against the wall, and spank her ass a few times to bring her into 100% focus.

And then I would whisper, in her ear, allowing her to feel my body heat on her cheek, but never touching….

“You belong to me, girl.  I am going to blindfold you, tie you against the bottom of the bed frame, bend you over the top, ass high, ankles spread, and hands tied and stretched taut.  I am going to lube your ass, and leave you in this position until I see your cunt juices dripping on the floor.  If you do not drip, I will flog your ass until you do.  

Once you are dripping, I will fuck both your holes whenever I crave pleasure.  I might relax, watch a movie, read a book, or enjoy a glass of wine.  But whenever I crave one of your holes, I will come and fuck you.  

You will remain here until I am sated.  You will not say a word. Your ordeal might last an hour, or it might take the entire evening.   And you will not cum unless I am pleased with you and grant you climax.  If you are a very good girl, you will have more opportunities to sing to me. Do you understand, girl?”

Appreciate the power of words in the dance on the fringe of darkness.  Revel in their control, and fall into them.  Indescribable pleasure awaits those who do.

Caption © Fringe of Darkness, 2012
Image - property of photographer

(Source: myprettylittleone)

Almost nothing sexier: his shirt, his tie. 

(Source: duimaginarium)

kinkycasey:

“I want you to kiss me like you’ve forgotten

how to do everything else.”

(Source: definedominance)

Mmmmmm wet kisses up top and wet panties below; 

folding me up while I fold around you; 

pushing into me while I pull you down to me; 

it’s all a circle, you know, and sometimes, it’s hard to tell where you end and I begin.

It’s not because you want to hurt me.

It’s not because you want to scare me.

It’s not because you are angry, or bitter, or frustrated, or an asshole, or a misogynist.

It’s because I want it. 

It’s because I need it.

It’s because I’ve asked you for it, and you’ve agreed. 

It’s because it makes me feel wanted, controlled, desired, shameless, and aroused in a way I haven’t before. 

It’s because we are trying things, testing things, experimenting and taste-testing and dipping toes into new waters.

It’s because…what if we like it?

What if we LOVE it?

What if it’s just exactly the thing we both didn’t know we craved?

What if? 

Let’s find out.

(Source: ctboston)

Oh God, that tiny sliver of tongue trailing down her spine: he has to stop, to take a break from pounding into her, because it all feels too good and he doesn’t want it to end. So he stops altogether, pulls out, and backs up.  Just enough to run his tongue lightly, delicately, along the dip in the center of her back, all the way to the curve of her ass.  And she moans, both from delight and from wanting him back inside her.  And he raises himself back up to his knees and thrusts all the way back in, harder than before, knowing now he can have a few more minutes at this newly-set pace before he has to come up with another delaying tactic, another diversion for himself — because more time inside her is worth almost anything he has to do. 

God, when I read these words, I almost always quiver a little bit.  I want this to happen to me, in real life.  I want to be commanded to come, and to have my body give up its tension and striving and reaching and just OBEY. I don’t know that it’s realistic, though; I’m not sure it can really work that way.

I want it anyway, this moment. I can picture it, imagine it so precisely, and what happens next:  afterwards, still shivering a bit from aftershocks and more than a little light headed, I lay my head against your chest and close my eyes, and you stroke my hair and ghost your fingers along my cheek, whispering into my ear, “Good girl. Good girl.” 

(Source: tobesubmissive)

(Source: burningveins)

Nothing perverted about it, actually. I love sucking on your fingers.  I love when you push them into my mouth, whether they’re dry and clean or soaked form being inside me, and insist that I suck on them.  For some reason, maybe because fingers are so sensitive to touch anyway, it’s extraordinarily sensuous with a sprinkle of wanton.  It doesn’t hurt that when you do it, you bring your face right next to mine, watching greedily while you move them in and out of my mouth. More than anything, I love seeing how much you want me written all over your face.