Rhavin

A young man started chatting with me a few weeks ago.  Referred to me by my girlfriend, he was interested in erotic photography, and was hoping I may be able to find him a venue to practice his craft.  He shared a link with me of some of his art work, and I found out he was good....he had a great eye for light, for composition, could "feel" the rightness of what he was looking at through the viewfinder.  It's a sign of raw talent when someone can do that without any training.  I offered to accompany him on a photo shoot sometime.  I love photography, and haven't been able to indulge in a long time.  And he seemed very nice.

We continued to chat via Yahoo Messenger, mostly daily.  I was up nights, watching Netflix, and unable to sleep, and he was up, not sleeping and watching Netflix.  We seemed two peas in a pod.  He was well mannered, well spoken, cute as a button, and very engaging.  I enjoyed my chats with him, looking forward to him popping up on my screen.  He kept me company at night, and I could talk with him about everything.  We didn't honestly talk about sex too much in those early chats, just about everything else.  He knew who and what I was, and accepted it without question.  I even chatted to him about my date with Atlas.

My party for Pirate Fetish Night happened and he attended.  I was upset because, like clockwork, Satan had an excuse for why he couldn't make it that night.  Poison Ivy...on his shaft.  Really?  I instant messaged Rhavin making sure he was still coming, hoping that at least I'd have someone to talk to.  He did come, and I gave him a huge hug.  We went out to the backyard, and sat and chatted in the pavilion tent.  He was obviously nervous, but we had that prior connection, and we laughed, and joked, and talked about everything and nothing.  Rhavin was going through some things in his personal life, and it seemed like every time he and I got into a good conversation about it, something in my hostess duties would take me away from him.  I felt really bad, but unfortunately, as the hostess, duty called.

One of my regular guests made a request for me to go flog her.  I was already feeling antsy that night, beast barely in check, and my anger at Satan making her wake up, shake her mane, and get ready to do some damage.  Flogging someone wasn't what I should have been doing, not at all.  But the lure of having it in my hand, and feeling it descend on flesh called to her, and I couldn't resist.  Rhavin followed me, and stood back in a corner to watch.

I started slowly, warming up my victims flesh with my smallest leather flogger.  Around and around, lightly scoring, just enough to turn it pink, and land a couple of heavier descents, nothing too serious as the flogger was just too small to inflict any real pain.  My breasts moved with my arms, and still Rhavin watched me.  I switched to my longer leather flogger.  It's beautiful, hand made for me by Passionate One.  More warming up, and a series of light hits, culminating in some much heavier landings.  It was time to switch to the Duct Tape flogger.

I made this one myself.  It is pink, blacklight reactive duct tape.  The handle is the trunk of a very small tree cut down in my yard.  It snaps, it stings, it makes lots of noise, and it delivers.  I love this one, and so does my beast.  After 5 minutes, I could feel myself choking on her, and I stopped to breathe.  Rhavin asked me if I was ok, and I let him know I was simply trying to make her settle.  More work with the flogger, and my eyes started to anticipate seeing red.  Beautiful red welts, red cuts, and red blood dripping down my willing victim.  None of this occurred, mind you, but my beast, the bitch, wanted it so bad I could taste it.  Rhavin had seen the change come over me, and I was sure I'd scared him.  He had left us there, and with him leaving I realized I was perched on a precipice.  If I continued, I was going to seriously and intentionally hurt the person laying so submissive beneath my lash.  Hurt her irrevocably.  So I sat down defeated, and told her I had to stop.

I spent the rest of the party out by the fire pit, listening to people chatting, and having Rhavin by my side.  We chatted again, not about much, since so many others were also relaxing by the fire.  People started to leave for the night, and when the last person left, but Rhavin was still there....I asked him if he wanted to have that chat finally.  He said yes, and I asked him to help me bring my sleeping things to the tent I'd be using that night, and come in and warm up under the blanket.  I was cold, and so was he.  I had no ulterior motive.....honest.  :)

I was attracted to him, I enjoyed his hesitant but honest communication. The other ladies had dismissed him as a submissive man, too non aggressive, too quiet and shy.  We snuggled under the blankets, and after simply laying under the blankets side by side and chatting, he pulled me over to him and he held me.  He's large....over 6 feet tall, and he made me feel.....safe.  He made me feel smallish, and surrounded.  He was wonderful, until he decided to go with the tickling.

Tickling is my downfall.  My mother used to often say that tickling someone was a form of torture, and she was not incorrect.  He knew just where to get me, and I was very soon on my back begging quarter.....utterly submissive.  I had gleaned from bits of our conversation, that he was not a submissive man, had even made the statement to him that he was a Top.  He had confirmed my suspicion, and he was ready to show me a preview of what he was.

We kissed, he touched me, he fingered me, and he made me squirt.  His mastery over my body was relatively quick, and as he made me cum for him over and over again, I realized that I had also made a crucial misjudgement in how I had sensed him.  He was not merely a Top.  He was a Master....though not experienced enough to quite own it.  I have sworn many times that I will not train someone, but I realized at some point that he called to my beast, and he was something I had to have or die.  I saw him in my mind, I saw what he could become with guidance and experience.  I saw what he could be to all of us and I decided to see what would happen.

I wanted to devour him, really.  I wrapped my teeth around the pulse in his neck.  My tongue could feel the flutter, just under the surface, and I started to bear down with my teeth, to lick and suck his neck like I was just waiting for the warm wash of coppery liquid over my mouth.  As the thought of puncturing him became more and more clear in my mind, and I realized Lilith was taking over again, I shook myself out of it, apologizing profusely, and I realized that not once had he feared, not once had he expressed hurt or discomfort.  He enjoyed my beast and the small pains she needed to give.  He was getting off on it.

He turned me onto my hands and knees, climbed behind me and rubbed his beautiful thickness all over my thighs and ass.  I begged then, no better than a bitch in heat, needing him to fill up the emptiness inside with his cock.  He positioned himself behind me and placed just the tip inside, maddeningly there, but not.....and I decided to take matters into my own hands and slam my hips onto the delicious length of him.  He gasped in his own right, but then dug his fingers into my hips and roughly positioned me where he wanted me, saying without saying "You don't move, I move. You don't do this, I do this.".  My beast knew, as I know now, that he was not fucking me, he was mating me. Claimed. Marked, Scented.

His cock filled me entirely.  There was no small inch that wasn't touched by him either inside or out of me.  He stayed till morning with me, despite his protests that he wouldn't.  He held me all night, maintained his contact on my body at all times regardless of the level of sleep we were at.  When morning came, I realized that being with him was an addiction of a particularly virulent nature.  He texted hourly, and I was interested in what he had to say.  And he was so close....just 20 minutes away.  My beast found it offensive that he wasn't even closer.  We wanted him on a primal level to do those things that no one else but a Master could do.  He was strong, he was capable, and he was willing.  God love him.  Rhavin....even his name is like a wash of warm breath playing across my skin, branding me with his mark.

There is so much more to the story now.  But this particular chapter of the story ended when we went home for that day.  It continues, however.  Good and bad, I am changing, and so is my beast.  We are so much more closely integrated.  We are becoming happy.