'Whose arse is this baby'?

My last post was a festival of whining and the one before was all political, so today dear friends I offer you filth (I know that’s what most of you want really).

I've chosen this sordid little tale as I get asked about it sometimes. We’ll call this little piece ‘Who owns this arse?’ as that really has been a key point here once or twice. You see N, being the sort of bloke he is will sometimes try to stage a coup at the drop of a bloody hat.  He is also fiercely possessive and traditionally very jealous. It’s all very ‘Me Tarzan, you Jane!’ and if you are a submissive woman no doubt utterly wet knicker inducing stuff. Sexually he’s very much of the dominant male persuasion left to his own devices  and it’s fair to say that he would very much like to at least own my arse, even if he can’t have the rest of me.

So the day came when he pushed his luck too far on the matter of jealousy and possessiveness and I decided to take matters in hand. So obviously off to the friendly neighbourhood sleazy bisexual swingers club we went. As you do. The guy that runs it, waves at G, is lovely and makes every effort to accommodate us dirty perverts with our BDSM ways. He even put in a BDSM room for us, makes it clear that his is an inclusive venue and that if people don’t fancy watching BDSM to look the other way (kudos),  and sweetly puts gay porn on for me in the cinema to give me a break from directing my own. Darlings, I suffer for my art.

Usually when we go there it’s basically for me to entertain my depraved self by putting N to work on some cock. I like this primarily for the control factor (it’s fair to say being made to suck cock or being fucked by men sends him crashing through the floor psychologically), and also, well let’s face it, two or more hot men together is hot. Well, it is if you're me, ok?

So this is what he was nervously and reluctantly expecting. A beating and general degrading public usage, plus a cock or six shoved down his throat (I sometimes put him on his knees in the middle of a room and let men take turns). And most of that occurred, but perhaps more interestingly so did the following.

This rather handsome buff young black guy caught my eye and I decided he may be fun to take for a spin. I started by just offering him N’s mouth, which he graciously accepted, and so off to one of the seedy fucking rooms the three of us trotted.

Rather marvellously Mr Studly turned out to have a fucking huge cock as well as a fine arse body. Oh my. He also turned out to be pleasingly perceptive and pretty talented with said body and worked out the score pretty quickly. So I flounced around having them perform for a while and generally being rough with N. As N was on his knees sucking his cock and looking all fucked and mortified, when I shoved N’s head down - ’get that right down your throat bitch’ - I decided to stay local and enjoy Mr Studly kissing my breasts and running his hands up my thighs etc. When N saw this I thought he was going to hyperventilate along with his choking but I shoved his head down, kicked him a bit and reminded him of a few key truths as I had Mr Studly put his fingers between my thighs. At this stage our studly hero got very excited which was really good for me,  and delightfully bad for N’s mouth. Poor baby.  

Some undressing and general fondling ensued and then I went over to the wall and told N to ‘get his slut mouth off my lovers cock’ and come over to me. He knew this was not going to end well though I’m not sure he had a clue why. Then I braced myself against the wall so my arse was sticking out and told him to life my skirt (leather, because I’m cliched like that) over my hips. He complied. I told him to pull my panties ‘prettily’ onto my thighs for the other guy. I could feel him hyperventilating on my thighs and I have rarely seen him so mortified. But he did as ordered. I told him to do it slowly and sexily and asked him how my arse looked. Did it look fuckable? Wiggle wiggle. Did he think the other guy would be enjoying the sight? Were my cheeks spreading at all?

Mr Studly then instinctively got his tongue between my cheeks (men who want to do me always want to get between my cheeks, it’s pretty much a given here) and his fingers in my pussy while shoving his cock now really roughly down N’s throat. He was obviously bursting to fuck me, and poor N suffered the price. Ooops! Such a thought never occurred to my pretty little head. La la la.

A pleasingly plumptious view

All the way through this I was tormenting N about my arse being mine, not his, and how good he looked sucking my lovers cock while he got me off. Lots of questions and big eyed muffled mortified head nodding occurred. Did Mr Studly’s cock feel really fucking fat in his mouth? Was it really lovely and hard? Because you know how I love a nice hard fat cock in my bootie, you know that makes me come. Make sure you suck it nice and hard for me, because you know how horny I get for a fucking when I have my arse licked. And I haven’t had my behind shafted for a while so I bet it’s really tight and enjoyable.  He looked fucking devastated as well humiliated beyond belief. It was hot as fuck. 

N loves me and he loves my arse you see. Most men who find me attractive basically see tits and arse which is unfortunately understandable as both are very round and somewhat in your face (only literally in the case of the breasts). My breasts are not a major thing for me, but I actually really love my arse being pleasured.  I’m a total anal slut and wouldn’t trade that for the world. Think that makes me submissive? Then we can safely say you have never fucked me and that you’re opinion is pretty irrelevant. And I’m not denying myself pleasure to order to fit anyone’s view of the world. Screw that I'm afraid.

So, there I am bent over braced against the wall with my bootie angled at the sexiest sluttiest angled imaginable (fucking a lot of girls provides helpful tips re these matters – they don’t tell you that in Cosmo now do they? I could write a monthly column. Someone suggest it to Cosmo, quick), with my panties placed by N under instruction at just the most appealing place on the thighs, a leather skirt pushed up over my back (ok, and fuck off chunky biker boots on rather than some sluttastic stiletto but I’m me. Anyway, my legs look better in big boots IMO), my breasts bouncing around madly because if I’m bent over that’s what they do, Mr Studly’s cock slamming down N’s throat, and his fingers and tongue intermittently in both my holes depending on positions etc.  I was orgasming all over the place from the combination of fucking with N so much, and also the very pleasing sex. Mr Studly was desperate to come but clearly didn’t want to waste any chance of slamming up my arse, and N is on his knees, so humiliated and jealous he looks like he’s going to collapse and wants to kill someone, and then I realised he was trying to make Mr Studly come as he’d rather take it down his throat that have my arse filled with the fine young hottie's spunk.  This fact is very pleasing to me and my ego.

So naturally I take N’s mouth off Mr Studly’s cock for a few minutes, and onto the bed we go for a while as I make N watch while Mr Studly gets busy with the body worship (and worship he could. Oh my) and of course gets his tongue back up my arse while I come and come and ask N all kinds of questions and generally taunt the living fuck out of him, because I’m romantic like that.

Eventually I belt N around the face a bit, kick him down and tell Mr Studly to come down his throat while he’s making me come. It’s fair to say the guy gave it his all and N’s lips were exquisitely cock bruised for days afterwards.  (Side note: Is there anything more horny than a man with forcibly cock bruised lips? I really fucking love that).

I beat the living crap out of N afterwards obviously, and generally tormented him and had him generally whipped for the rest of the night, repeatedly asking him what rights he had over my arse. His reply was correct and for a change the desire to be a mouthy bitch or engage in his very special brand of ‘humour’ was quelled. A near miracle.

I’ve just looked at N’s blog and his account of this event is here 

It was a pleasing night and one that’s been replayed a couple of times in various ways since.  It’s not really about me wanting other men though, it’s very much about the control. God do I love the control.

Here endeth the filth.

'How long have you been into BDSM?'

When I venture to public access BDSM events, I get asked things like ‘how long have I been kinky?’ ‘How long have I been ‘into’ BDSM?’ ‘When did I start ‘doing’ kinky shit?’ I always look at the people who ask these questions with a sort of blank stare. What are we calling ‘kinky’ for these purposes? How ‘into’ BDSM does one have to be to ‘into’ it? And what kind of ‘it’ are we talking about?

The simple answer is that as long as I’ve been sentient I seem to have had the kink component. I distinctly remembering having hardcore sadistic fantasies; even by my current standards; aged no more than five, though I didn’t see them as sexual then. My erotic fantasies have always been SM and/ or D/s  related.  Interestingly, in my formative years I was rarely the giver of sadism, I was watching others engaged in agonising, dastardly deeds, or occasionally receiving it, but never intentionally being sadistic (I would imagine doing the hurting but never ‘enjoying’ it. Snort). I didn’t want to be a sadist you see. I didn’t like people who hurt people. They were bad. And I didn’t want to be ‘bad’.

What really got my engine running was the energy between people though, and somehow I managed to justify that in my processing. The physical stuff in my fantasies was just the manifestation of that, it was the remorse, the tears, the begging, the screaming, the desire, the longing, the pain ending, the brave stoicism, the nobility that held it all together for me. That was what I wanted. The passion that goes with pain, to have them under my control, that was the key. The pain was largely just the tool (or so I told myself anyway). Typing this, I’ve just realised that in the same way that other girls think that they’ll love you if you suck really good cock, I thought I could get them to love me if I hurt them and protected them so only I hurt them, and took them to places they never even dreamed of. I simply couldn’t perceive of meaningful intimacy without control and pain in the mix.

Eroticism to me was, and is, all about domination and submission and pain…. but still I didn’t want to be a sadist. A lot of people don’t I realise, but I had my own very strong reasons in addition to this so it was a huge thing to me.  

When by the time I got round to having penetrative sex, I’d been a fucking Grand Poobah of SM and D/s (in crude, non defined forms) for years before then, it was in my blood.

I’m good at inspiring loyalty, it’s the magic card I was born with, and I ran with that. And it turned out that I was right! If I protected people, and hurt them, controlled them, and took them on magic carpet rides to a mixture of good places and bad, they gazed at me with big dark addicted eyes and did what I wanted. Tra la la. It was easy for me, it came entirely naturally. Looking back I enslaved people very very young, too young.

Sex, without power exchange just bored me, but I wanted to be ‘normal’, to not be fucked up, to not be bad and dangerous. Now I know I am fucked up, abnormal, can be dangerous if necessary, but not bad. Then, being ‘bad’ was a terror.  

I like cutting. And kicking. And choking. And fucking while people scream and cry. And biting right through flesh. And drinking blood, And beating, harsh and long. And humiliation and headfucks and other deliciously twisted sadistic things. Most of all though, I like power. I like control. And what do you know I’m very good at that?  But there wasn’t a space in my head for all that stuff marked ‘good’ (or ‘not bad’) so I struggled.

But I love power exchange so much more than the giving of pain, TPE in particular. I like to see people gulp down their pride when they don’t want to, but know they feel they have to for me. I like to see them submit. I like to run them. I like to see them extend themselves, way, way beyond where they are comfortable, just. for. me. And knowing how to do that has always been like breathing to me.

So how long have I been into BDSM? Always perhaps? Since I first made someone crawl for me? Since I ordered people to do what I wanted and they did? Since I hurt someone and made them gasp? Since I took charge of someones life? Since I broke someone and saw them look at me like I was a God? Since I made people afraid, because they wanted my approval more than they wanted not to get hurt? Since I changed people's erotic responses? Since I forced someone to orgasm then laughed at them for it and made them beg?

Power is what I fly on, much, much more than giving pain, which I know surprises many people. BDSM is largely what I’m made of.  I still sometimes wish I wasn’t a sadist, but I am what I am.

I'm a kinky bitch, and I'm ok with that.

Q&A

Q: Why start a blog now?
A: Because I get asked the same things a lot and I thought this might be a good way to respond. Also, I like the recently referenced idea of being able to 'rabbit on' (geddit?) about my opinions without speaking as mod of the Owner/ property board I help run.

Q: Why am I called 'Mistress Tiara'? (Which in a moment of wild efficiency, I actually forgot to say in my opening post. I should probably write a bio at some point).
A: Because it made me laugh because it was so camp and funny and irreverent. Because it sounds like a drag Queen name and that rather tickles my sense of subversion. Probably because I loved Courtney Love so very much when I was younger, than I used to run around in a grungelike manner wearing a tiara, ripped fishnets and a sexy nightie, and to be honest I've never quite gotten over it (I really do like to be the girl with the most cake and I still own a tiara or two). Because when you abbreviate it to MT it phonetically sounds like 'empty'. Because as 'Queen Of The Universe' and I am sure I deserve a lovely crown, even if it is just an imaginary one? Because my life is generally so very far away from tiara wearing, that it is a hilarious joke if you actually know me.... and because I chose it on a whim once years ago and it stuck and now I can't be bothered to change it. It's a username.

Q: How often will you blog?
A; Whenever the whim is upon me, I imagine.

Q: What will be the thrilling topic of your blogs?
A; My experiences in an Owner/ property relationship. Power exchange. Ownership. Slavery.  BDSM. My relationships. Politics. My life. What I am doing, feel like ranting or musing regarding on any particular day, and other 'Really Deep Thoughts'.
　
Q; Do I actually believe I own N?
A; Yes. As does he. It makes us happy. It's how we live our life. It extends to every corner of Us. He's mine :)