The romantic pornographer
We walked through the isles of the grocery store, taking turns pushing the cart. We picked out all the ingredients needed to make the things that’s we’d discussed before leaving the house, checking things off of our list as me made our way through the store.
“How are you doing” I asked Mina and she knew without needing any reminder what I was asking about.
“It took a little getting used to, because it’s been so long since I’ve worn it”, she answered as a faint flush of color rose to her cheeks.
With a moment to myself, I’m catching up on my whereabouts and the like. I’m sitting looking out at Centraal Station as I wait for Mina to return from dance. She’d been eager to see what dance is like in Amsterdam and so we set off on separate afternoons. Mine, amidst the rain, brought me back to the hotel to think about all of it and make a list of what I still wanted to do here on our last day. What I did instead was start writing….
It’s sunday again; the day that she spends in service to me. She never forgets and I’ve been waiting for her to. I was laying behind her with one arm wrapped around her I slid my hand down between her legs. She opened them at my touch and in moments she was on the verge of her first orgasm of the day, but she asked permission as she knows she’s required to do every time on “servant sunday“. My face buried in the nape of her neck, I smiled because it made me happy that she’d remembered to do so. I gave her permission and she came once, twice, three times before forgetting to ask.
“Did you come without permission?” I asked, continuing to touch her despite the sensitivity that she has after an orgasm. The tape across her mouth prevented her from doing anything other than just nodding. She knows that regardless of what’s in her mouth, permission is required before coming. I held her in one arm, her posture slightly rigid as I moved the other into the position to issue a reminder.
I brought my hand down ten times on her ass, the sound of my palm on her skin was sharp in the otherwise silent room. She jumped with each of them, despite the fact that she’s usually able to take a spanking like a champion. I switched to the other side and then laid still to let her minster to my own needs. I know she feels awkward using only her hands to do so, which is part of why I let her continue to do so for such a long while before removing the tape and letting her use her mouth, which is what she prefers.
We were still for a few moments afterwards before finally crawling out of bed. I went to clean myself up and from the next room I heard her say “Any day that begins with tape, a vibrator and come on your lips can’t be all bad”.
“I traded my shift so I can have Sunday off!”, she said.
She worked her schedule out so that she can have this weekend off, letting us resume Servant Sunday after having missed a week of them last week. It wasn’t the end of the world to have one slip by uncelebrated, but I’m looking forward to having them again. I pay attention to what she likes, what she responds to and I put it all to good use on those days…
I’m constantly amazed by the fact that we have such a strong sexual attraction as well as having a great friendship; in my past experience it’s usually been either/or. It could be because it took some time between the moment that I decided I wanted her until I was finally able to have her and so we cultivated the friendship until that happened, but I have a feeling it’s more about who each of us are and less about circumstance. Whatever the reason, I enjoy every moment of her company.
I’m a physically affectionate person in general but I’m compelled to touch her more than anyone that I’ve ever been near. While I was rubbing her feet she told me that she has never let anyone touch them before and certainly not the way that she has allowed me to. She’s a dancer and her feet have often been put to hard use, making her feel that they were untouchable as a result. I happen to think that (like every inch of her) they are lovely. During last servant sunday she was tied to the bed and when I kissed my way from her neck to her feet, she found that she really enjoyed the intimacy of my mouth on them, which was a surprise to her…
A friend asked the other day how things between she and I were going and when I smiled and told him that they were going well, he said “you two just make sense. I knew it the first time I saw you together. It’s one of those one in a million perfect matches”.
I told her the other day that I was crazy about her, to which she replied “I’m crazier!”, making us both laugh as we laid tangled together. I tell her that I’m crazy about her often, but it’s not precisely the right sentiment; it’s just the one that best fits the situation, for now.
Her bangs swept across the top of her lovely dark eyes, bringing my focus down from the patent leather pony bridle that she wore. She smiled at me from the couch where she was curled up in my bathrobe, flipping through a magazine as I worked. It was a Sunday, which is her day of service to me and has become my favorite day of the week. She’d cleaned the house while wearing the headdress and I’d enjoyed watching her move. After she had been rewarded for her service, she sat quietly still wearing the shiny leather (which she’d adored from the moment I’d strapped her into it) reading as I tended to a few other things. She radiated so much contentment and pride that I didn’t want her to have to take it off when we finally left the apartment.
We’ve made a new tradition of this; starting off the day with service and then transitioning into other things. I’m enamored with how easily we move through the world together, having incredibly intimate moments followed by superbly average ones without effort or awkwardness. Sometimes the trouble with a relationship that has a specific nature in the bedroom is that you constantly have to keep that up in order for it continue to exist but It isn’t like that with us. For probably the first time in my life I’m well matched with someone who (like me) really likes things to be kinky but doesn’t need them to be. We can indulge continuously with servant sunday’s because we balance them out with all the other time we spend together so that it becomes a passion that suggests obsession but manages to toe the line.
Sunday’s at my house are a special day. It isn’t special for the sort of reasons that it would be for most others; no scenes of faith or worship…..well, at least not of the obvious sort. She’d expressed gratitude for my letting her stay with me while she looked for an apartment. She said that she’d have to find a way to make it up to me and we came to the agreement of “Servant Saturday”. Our schedules prevented it from happening on Saturday, so we moved or day of service to the following day and that’s where it’s stayed. She has her own apartment now and is under no obligation to keep coming back, but obligation was never really the point to begin with.
On the first of our Sunday’s, I told her change into her stockings and heels and come out so that I could inspect her. When she did, she was wearing a pretty little bra and panty set that I had definitely not instructed her to put on. I scolded her for not doing precisely as she was told, bending her over the bed after she was undressed to administer the first spanking of the day. I had her do little things around the house that way; in just her heels and stockings. I’ll admit that I enjoy watching her every little movement…
She is light and graceful in all the ways you might expect a ballerina to be. She moves swiftly and with enthusiasm, doing what she’s told and wanting to be her best at everything. If I correct her for something, she is as hard on herself for not doing it right the first time as I am. Pain is a way of life as a dancer and she can endure more than you would expect of her lithe frame. I appreciate that about her; her ability to endure. Her dark eye’s will occasionally narrow or she’ll spit something petulant in response, but she bends when she is supposed to and loves the challenge, the punishments and the rewards.
I took the rope from its drawer and bound her breasts tightly. I tied her wrists together and placed the blindfold over her eyes. I ran my fingertips across her body and delighted in the raising of her flesh and the way she shivered. I pulled the pin wheel up the flesh of her inner thigh, across her stomach and up to her nipples. She was nervous and excited by the sound of my sorting through all the trunk to see what I’d use on her next. I dressed and redressed her, fitting her with different gags, restraints, blindfolds and using on her the various paddles, floggers and implements that I was inspired to employ.I brought her to orgasm with my fingers in each situation. I took note of what she responded to the best, devising plans for future games and settled on a course for the rest of the day.
“This morning I had residue from the tape on my lips”, she said casually.
We were having lunch and skirting the subject of the night before. We don’t really discuss this sort of thing at great length after it’s happened, but we often acknowledge what’s happened in some way that let’s the other know what moment was particularly noteworthy. Others have asked us how the sex is, but we don’t really discuss it any more with them than we do with each other; a mention, a tease, a well placed word.
The night before I’d pulled the thick black duct tape from the roll, enjoying the sound that it made as it peeled away from itself. I ripped a piece neatly that was just long enough to cover her full lips and I approached the bed with it held taut between my hands. She looked at me, not certain what I would do with it because I’d used the first piece that I’d ripped off for something else entirely. I made her wonder on purpose, because it’s more fun that way.
I covered her mouth and pulled her clothes from her a little roughly before I turned off the lights. I came back to the bed and turned her head to one side and kissed her cheek in soft contrast to the rigid way I held her face. I slid my hands between her legs and she was already wet as I worked my fingers back and forth, slid them slowly inside of her. Her breathing was heavy and I could hear the first moans trying to escape through the tape. I laid down next to her and played with the piercings in her nipples, putting them in my mouth, rubbing them between my thumb and forefinger, tugging on them just a little as I continued to work one hand between her legs. I traced my fingers across her throat and saw her breathing slow, heard her little muffled moan. I closed my fingers around her delicate neck knowing that I had to be aware of the pressure, so I applied it slowly, backed it off, applied it again. Her body responded enthusiastically to my palm on her throat and she came moments later for the first time that night.
I traced my fingers all over her body as she caught her breath. I kissed her cheek, her forehead, her eyelids, slowly, calming her down, bringing her back to where we were. She looked at me in the dark, her bright eyes studying me to see what I’d do next. I kissed my way down her body, between her legs and it wasn’t long before I felt the quaking, saw the quickening . I’ve always appreciated that she takes very little time to recover before she’s ready to come again…
I slid myself inside of her while I looked her in the eyes. My progress was slow as it always is; I let her catch her breath as deeply as she could with her mouth taped shut. Her breath caught at the familiar point and I let her get used to me before I advanced any further. I moved my hips and felt her opening up, but I stopped just shy of being completely inside of her because it’s too much all at once; at least in the beginning. When she was ready, I flipped her on her stomach and clasped her wrists in my hands, so that I could hold myself at the appropriate angle and pin her in place at the same time. She moaned as I tilted my hips back and forth to hit the sweetest spots. When she came for the last time, the sounds she made brought on my own orgasm. I laid on top of her and we both breathed heavily. She feels tiny, delicate when she’s beneath me, wrapped tightly in my arms.
This is how it’s been. People ask and we allude, or smile or say nothing because it’s often more fun to let them postulate. The people who ask us know what I do for a living, though maybe not all the details. Mina has never had anything to do with my field of work and so they wonder what the chemistry must be like between us; a ballerina and a pornographer. They see a darkness in both of our eyes, a knowingness in our smiles and they wonder what it all means when we make the little comments that aren’t intended to answer questions as much as they are to dare them to ask the next.
