9 May 2013

Through My Bedroom's Looking Glass

Here's part three of another real, kinky, BDSM sex story that took place recently in our apartment in Montreal. On this particular Sunday afternoon, I got to play the dominant femme to my very own nylon-clad, corseted submissive, Alicia Frederika.... until things took a turn. 

If you want to read parts one and two of this story, check out my earlier posts, Down the Rabbit Hole and Queen of Hearts

* * *

After maneuvering in and out of a series of awkward poses, Frederika and I decide that it’s time for a costume change. We leave PC and black Fred talking in the living room, and make our way to my bedroom. 

I kick off my shoes and unfasten the bra clasp of my slip while hot Fred fusses with her corset. “Can you help me out of this?” she asks candidly. 

“Sure.” She turns around, pulling her hair out of the way to reveal the smooth slope of her neck and strong shoulders. For a brief moment I allow myself to imagine nuzzling into the mess of curls at the base of her scalp, breathing in the damp smell of her freshly washed mane. Standing naked behind her, I unhook the little black metal fasteners securing the satin bodice around her athletic torso, one by one. The tips of my fingers graze her cool, milky skin. If only…. 

(If only I had the courage to flirt with her…. or knew how to read women’s signals. Perhaps all writers are cowards, hiding behind words, living in the fantastic scenarios designed by their imaginations….)

“Phew, now I can breathe again!” Frederika exclaims with a smile. Her full, ripe breasts, with their large, blooming areolas and delicate, pinkish nipples seem to glow in the half-light. I avert my eyes in an effort not to stare. “Yeah….” I hear myself say absentmindedly. They must be firm. I bet that if I were to slide my tongue over the more sensitive parts of her breasts, below the armpit, near the ribcage, her areolas would constrict and form hard little nodules….

Once dressed, we reappear in the living room. Our captive audience of two is quick to express its appreciation. “Ou la la!” I hear PC call out, while black Fred simply shakes his head and grins.

“This time we want to try something different,” I explain, looking over at Frederika for approval. “We want you guys to direct the poses.”

And so they did, awkwardly at first, of course, since black Fred was too shy to give directions and PC held back to keep from making the Freds uncomfortable. Before the shoot was over though, black Fred had me spread-eagled over his girl and vice-versa.

“No, wider,” I remember him saying in earnest as he hovered over us with his camera.

The evening ended with take-out Indian and a massive file transfer. I think that the pictures kept PC’s right hand busy for a month… (I still see him sneaking a peek from time to time).


Emma xox

P.S. I’m hoping to make the next shoot topless, and have the guys join in too!

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