A bowl for my cherries

I've always had a thing for the way a guy's lower back is shaped when he's fit. The curves of muscle, the way they form valleys and troughs where they come together. Yum.

I had bon-bon on his knees on our first date. It's not something I do regularly. I don't typically play with a guy on the first date at all. But I wanted him on his knees and so he was. I'd put him in my rope cuffs and let my hands explore his chest and back, unbuttoning his shirt a bit at a time, teasing us both.

He's in great shape. Not ripped, but very fit and working towards ripped. My hands were very happy checking out the terrain - especially the valleys. And I found the well defined trough in his back intoxicating.
During our first play session, he'd spent most of his time tied to his bed. On his back.

In planning for our second session, I decided I wanted to combine two things I'm fascinated with: his lower back and objectification.

"You're going to be my snack tray," I told him.

And so he was. I had him lay face down across the ottoman and I placed some fruit and cheese in the bowl that his lower back formed.

Then I sat back, sipped my wine and admired the view.

But as lovely as the view was, after a few bites of cheese, a cherry and some grapes, I became a bit bored. That's when I grabbed my riding crop and discovered how nicely bon-bon welts. And how nicely he jumps when I smack his ass.

His reactions made me grin. So of course I smacked him again. And again and again.

He didn't stop flinching when I hit him and each time my crop came in contact with his ass, the fruit in his lower back came precariously close to spilling.

"Don't you dare spill my cherries," I instructed him.

"Yes Mistress," he responded.

When I had thoroughly reddened his ass and left some very nice welts, I removed my panties, leaned over him and whispered, "Do you have any idea how much I enjoy hurting you?"

And then I put my panties under his nose so he could smell just how excited his pain made me.
I used him as a foot stool as I masturbated and admired the view. I even drank wine from the divot in his lower back, lapping it ever so slowly.

He's doing a new workout routine, one he claims is rather intense. He promises it will yield six pack abs and ... a bigger bowl for my cherries.

Bondage, real or implied

There are few things that are as hot as the site of a boy securely bound in my rope. Except maybe a girl. But I digress.

I love to see a boy splayed across a bed, tied tight to the bed by his wrists and ankles. Or bent over a table. Or really any furniture.

Aesthetically I enjoy the way his limbs look bound. The way the rope wraps around his wrists, his hands tightly fisted or slightly open and relaxed, depending on how sensual or sadistic the attention I'm giving him is at the time.

I'm a competent enough rigger to do some semi-extravagant shibari when I want, but I'm more likely to quickly lash a boy's wrists together over his head. It often gets the job done and puts him into the same head space the fancy rope work would anyway.

Plus I waste less time getting him immobile so I can have my way with him.

But as much as I love rope and the way a boy looks in it, sometimes I don't bother with it.

There is a beautiful phenomenon I've seen with subs that always makes me smile. I've always meant to blog about its hotness and today I shall.

I love how a sub will automatically position himself for bondage, real or implied, during a scene. It's like they beg for it.

If you've read Peeing on nodder, you'll know I tied his wrists before I put him in the bath tub and gave him his first golden shower. We did it a second time and I didn't write about it. I put him in the same tub in the same position without tying his wrists and he immediately raised his fists above his head as if he were bound.

So hot.

In my experience it's a fairly common phenomenon. When I climb on top of a sub, his hands seem to automatically go over his head as if he's begging for bondage, assuming he's bound or at least hoping I'll pin his wrists down with my hands.

It's one of those beautifully submissive responses that makes me want to simply devour him.

Transparency

"You are quite the sexual lightning rod," bon-bon told me. We'd been discussing those who had expressed an interest in me lately. Hot women. And he's all for that by the way. But it always surprises me a little when female hotties want me. "You are. You emanate sexual energy. Wild sexual energy."

"Do I? Actually I have heard that before."

"Uh huh. I bet you have. It's quite pronounced."

"Even in college my best friend's boyfriend said that about me. 'Lilyana just oozes sex when she walks into the room.' I felt dirty in a not fun way after that."

"It's not an ooze."

I laughed.

"It's more like if we were hummingbirds, you'd be filled with red sugar syrup."

Then I REALLY laughed.

"The container is transparent. You know the sweet stuff is in there. You can see it, smell it, and if your smart enough to figure it out, there are points of access where you get rewarded by the sweet nectar."