Objectified.

Last night, I was leashed.

(Yes, this post has heaping spoonfuls of explicit sex. If you’re against that sort of thing, come back the day after tomorrow, when I turn all of this sticky, nasty sex into navel-gazing goodness. Everybody else, more after the link…)

This is the second time I’ve had a leash on me, but my wife wasn’t walking me around the room. I think the idea of a pet bored her, so she figured out something else to do with it.

She clipped it to my leather collar with the ring on the back of my neck, and then wrapped the long, slender chain down my back, through the crease of my ass, up and around my thighs, and then took the brown leather handle and wrapped it around my balls and knotted it until it tightly constricted them. I was up on my hands and knees, this length of chain running along my spine lengthwise. If I dropped my head, it pulled the chain toward my skull and crushed my balls. If I raised my ass to relieve the pressure on my testes and raised my head, the collar tightened around my neck — not enough to be a choking hazard, but enough that there was some pressure on my windpipe. Eventually, I found a happy middle ground, where the throbbing in my balls receded to a dull ache and my throat was almost unconstricted.

Seeing this, my wife reached out, put her hand around the chain running down my spine, and YANKED upwards, causing me immense pain in my balls while simultaneously cutting off my windpipe.

Needless to say, her invention thrilled me. I was hot and happily subbing out, and amazed that little miss innocent had become this innovative bitch. She heard me gasping for air, heard the simultaneous groan as my balls ached, and said, “I am so wet right now. I wish you could know what you’re doing for me.” As if to show me, she rubbed herself on my leg, feeling my body as she ground against me. Her hair was crimson in the light of the hotel room, her eyes sparkled happily. She always looks like she’s getting a diamond ring for Christmas when she hurts me.

Eventually, she unknotted the cord around my balls and left the leash on, pulling it this way and that to maneuver me on the bed. She walked over to her bag of tricks and pulled out an immense feeldoe — the “My Penis” model, because one end is a fairly impressive (for us) sized dildo the approximate dimensions of my own cock. A few months ago, she’d fucked me with this beast. Now, she lubed up one end and inserted it into her sex.

The effect was…striking. A beautiful cock jutted from her crotch. It was clearly latex, but still — the way it hung there, the way it jutted out — I was beyond aroused.

One of the great ironies of my life is that I have almost no attraction to men, but I love cocks. A cock on a woman…there’s just something beautiful about the incongruity of it. In my mouth, in my ass, the way they wear it — and some women wear it well. They walk around like they’ve got a weapon on their mons when they’re wearing a cock.

She had told me the night before that she fantasized about fucking someone’s mouth. Not oral sex, she clarified, not having her cock sucked, but forcing someone’s mouth open and then fucking them in their mouth while they gagged and choked.

She had told me that what turned her on was the way the person on the receiving end of the dick was clearly just a hole, just an object. “Porn, I see it in porn. It turns me on, so much, to see this person just turned into a wet, passive hole for a cock. Does that make me sick? To want to objectify someone like that? I don’t think so. No, I think it’s natural. God, I’m going to do that someday.”

“Are you going to fuck my mouth?” I asked, as I started to climb off of the bed, expecting her to want me on my knees.

“Yes, I am going to fuck your mouth,” she said, “But who the hell told you to get off the bed?” Her voice is sweet as she says it, her smile cruel. I climbed back on the bed. She pulled the leash and told me to roll over onto my back. I did. She pulled on the chain until I scooted toward the edge of the bed, my head dangling off it. “Open your mouth, baby boy.”

I did so. She slid the cock in, asked me if it was alright. I mumbled assent. I heard her sex make a soggy noise as she thrusted tentatively at my mouth. “Ready?”

I nodded, a half-movement hampered by the jumbo cock in my mouth.

She started fucking my mouth. I started drooling, grunting around it as I tried to take it all in, choking on its girth, gagging on the length, my mouth stretching to take it all. She put one hand on my chest to give herself some leverage and began pounding my mouth. I could hear how wet she was as her sex made sloppy noises, the resistance of my mouth and throat enough to give her a good thrust into her own wetness with the other end of the dildo. She began moaning, talking me through it.

“Good boy. Oh, fuck, yeah, that’s it. You like to suck some cock, don’t you? You like that big cock in your mouth. Look at you take it all. Mm. Mm.”

She pulled out of me and put her hand on her cock, adjusted it so that the dildo inside her slid back into place. Then, she began slapping me with it, hitting me in the cheeks, watching the spit fly as she did so. She made me roll onto my side, my head resting on the mattress. She grabbed the back of my skull and just started thrusting, shoving my head into her cock, forcing it to push the end inside of her deeper. This went on for fifteen minutes, her fucking herself with the feeldoe, fucking my mouth with it, both of us connected by this cock surrogate.

When she pulled it out, strings of saliva went with it. She made me sit up and got a piece of fabric out. I had talked about it earlier in the evening, how I’d never been blindfolded.

“How much do you trust me?” she asked.

My mouth was numb and sore. “I trust you to the ends of the earth,” I said. And meant it. I was flying high at the moment. I would have let her fuck me with the studded handle of the flogger at this point, as she’s talked about on a few occasions.

“Good.” And then she wrapped it around my eyes.