0 comments/ 10543 views/ 1 favorites Letters to S Ch. 01 By: fieryjen So she's hot. We've established that. She has a nicer body than me, extremely pretty eyes, a lovely smile and cute freckles. I know you've always loved those freckles on her. I don't have freckles. But that's okay, I don't need any. I feel secure enough in this relationship as it is. I love you, first of all. I trust you. And I've got a nice smile too, and pretty eyes, and I have larger tits than she has. Take that, ex-girlfriend. I'll admit that I had doubts, back at the beginning. I mean, you were engaged to the girl after all, I know you loved her a lot. We're not engaged, which is mostly my own doing. I'm pretty sure you would have asked me by now, if I hadn't made it clear that my answer would be something along the lines of "Shut up, you're crazy!" I don't want to get married just yet. If you know you're meant to be together, you might as well live together for a few years first and make sure that this wonderful gut-feeling of having found the one was actually right. So far, my gut feeling has been right on the money, and that means that a few years down the road, when you do ask me that question, I'll probably say yes. But I digress. I was talking about her, not our potential for marriage. Although it makes me wonder if you had that same gut feeling back then, when you asked her. I tease you about having been so innocent, but that doesn't mean you were an idiot. You grew up with her, you knew her very well. I think, if I may speculate here, that maybe it was yourself that you didn't know well enough. You've changed so much since I first met you, but I don't think that I've brought out anything in you that wasn't there in the first place. I've never asked you to change who you are for me. I don't want you to. But I have asked you to keep an open mind, and to give some new things a try, and you've risen so magnificently to that challenge. It was either that, or a completely dysfunctional relationship that wouldn't have lasted long. I remember you telling me about your sex life. She was the only girl you made love to, before me, and you were both inexperienced. It never got any further than straight-up missionary. It makes me wonder whether she'd approve of the way you've changed since then, or whether she would think I ruined you. It can't have been much fun, having sex only with the lights out, always in the same position, under the sheets. I know your parents like her a lot. I think they like me, although they were disappointed when it didn't work out between you and her. Your family and hers still have meals together quite often, which is weird, especially if you bring me along. They haven't met my family at all, and so I sometimes feel like an outcast, my only link to them your hand on my thigh, under the table. I haven't gotten much further with your parents than pleasant conversations, which is slowly driving me nuts. I avoid talking about religion or politics, biting my tongue whenever that comes up. She does not have that problem. She'd never have an abortion if she was pregnant, and she votes Republican. And I sit and look at their smiling faces and in-depth conversation, and all I can think of is how I'm not wearing any underwear and how I'm glad that gay rights haven't come up, because I probably wouldn't manage to shut up about that topic. I know you've told me not to give a damn what your parents think of me. But I can't help it. I know you moved out for a reason, I know you've had your share of arguments with them, and I know the polite peace is a precious one. No matter, it still makes me sad to see your mother beaming at your ex across the table because she said the right thing again, and I can read in your mother's eyes that somehow, she still wants it to work out between the two of you. And everyone else at the table knows it too, and it's so damn awkward. I really despise your ex during those meals. It gets better afterwards, when we all take a walk, and the adults huddle together and go one way, and we go the other. I've walked next to her, and we were both suddenly shy, timid somehow, but we managed to have a conversation. Not about politics or religion, we both wisely stayed far away from that. We talked about her horse instead, and how she loves to ride it, and how nature is so nice around here. It was a silly topic, but it was something we could share with each other, something we found we had in common, and suddenly she wasn't so bad after all, despite being so different from me. It makes me wonder how that works inside your head -- having such strong feelings for two girls that are different like day and night, and the only thing that we found to talk about was horseback riding. It makes me wonder how the hell I ever managed to get my hands on you, considering how she was your type. Yet I did, somehow, and helped you discover a new side of yourself in the process. And I like that. It helps. When I sit at the table and have to listen to their outrage at un-christian behavior, I like closing my eyes and remembering the pleasant sting of my flesh as you spank me. When I hear them compliment your ex on her choice of outfit, I like to think about how you'll compliment me later, when I'm on my knees sucking your cock. I do try not to be too focused on her and the relationship she had with you... but yeah, it does feel good to know she never did that for you. I asked you once; if you'd want to go back to the way you were before you met me, when you were still with her, all vanilla and innocent. You basically just laughed at me, shaking your head at my silly notions, and later you tied me up and tortured me with special care and love, pinching and flogging and fucking me silly. And that was just the answer I needed. Letters to S Ch. 02 Do I ever want to be with other guys? It's kind of a loaded question, really. I'm a very sexual girl. Yeah, I've had fantasies. I've had dreams. And if by "be with" you mean sex, then the answer would have to be yes. But let me explain. In every single one of thses fantasies, you were there. You watched you participated -- whatever it was, you approved every time, in every fantasy. I don't ever want to do this without your approval, not even in my dreams. Cheating is not a thought that could ever turn me on. And it's always just sex. Hard, fast fucking, and everything that goes with it. I've never wanted to be with another man, dreamed of having a relationship that wasn't ours. So if by "be with", you mean emotional involvement, the answer would have to be no. We've talked about our fantasies. You know that when I talk about double penetration, I don't mean with a dildo. I know that when you talk about two girls making out, you don't mean in a porn video. I'll fulfill your fantasy any day. I don't know if you are ready for me to be with another guy, but that's fine, I'll wait. Forever, if I have to. This isn't worth upsetting you. The fact that you even contemplate it makes me proud. Proud, because we've come so far with this. Because the first thing I've ever made you contemplate was doggy style. Then using ropes. Then spanking. Then anal sex. You know how the list goes on, you've lived through it with me. And I know we're about to add many more items to that list. Not all of them will become reality, I don't think, but that's fine too. But I know you love the idea too. You've had me talk about it when we were laying in bed, your eyes closed so you could better imagine the situation. And I told you how I'd want one guy beneath me, to ride, and another behind me fucking my ass, and a third forcing me to suck his cock. I told you how I'd want to be drenched in cum, yours and theirs, and to be forced to service them until I'm about to pass out. I've never described to you how much I'd enjoy another girl as well, if only because it would please you so much. I can just imagine your eyes lighting up like they always do when you're proud of what a good little slut I am for you. How you'd smile as I touch her and kiss her, finger her and play with her clit, looking up at you to make sure you like what you see. I wonder if you'd pick another pure submissive, or someone that could dominate me too. You know damn well how much I enjoy a good humiliation scene. You know just as well that I'd get just as wet and horny if it was a girl doing these things to me, you letting her have her way with me as you watch. Those are fantasies that probably won't become reality. I'm probably too chicken to pull them off, unless you'd make me. But I'm touched that you're even contemplating them, that you don't mind those ideas and you trust me enough to know this doesn't mean you're not enough for me. Because you are, and I need you to know that, always. Letters to S Ch. 03 There is a lot of thinking going on. My thoughts race, sometimes contemplating silly details like how there is something tickling my left knee, or wondering if I'll look sexy with your cum in my hair. I worry about pleasing you, wondering if I'm at liberty to lick your balls during a blowjob, or which way you'd prefer me to kneel. Sometimes I'm plain afraid, and I want nothing quite as much as to be in your arms. Sometimes I don't think I can take it, until you remind me that I can. Yeah, there is a lot going on in my head during a scene with you. It's like my mind goes into overdrive, stimulated by all the sensations, by the immediacy and intensity of my situation. It causes me to react in ways I usually wouldn't, to surprise myself with the emotions and thoughts I have. It wasn't always that way. In the beginning, I was more worried about you than myself. I knew I could take whatever you'd throw at me, but I was worried if you could. The scene wasn't about me taking a spanking back then, it was about the way you felt when you gave me one. That didn't make it boring. It was rewarding in its own way to see a small smile form on your face, to notice that you were actually taking pleasure in seeing my flesh redden and hearing me gasp. It was amazing to see that sadistic side of yours take over ever so slowly. You surprised me so many times when I took you too lightly. I don't make that mistake anymore, but I did it plenty at the beginning. Now I know that just because being a Dom was a new role you had to get used to doesn't mean you didn't instinctively know how to handle me, even then. I remember it like it was yesterday, when I figured you'd simply forgotten to put soap in the bathwater. I took it upon myself to squeeze some out of the bottle, and I watched the bubbles form while waiting for you to return. Once you did, you stood there for a few seconds, looking at me, and at the bathwater, and when I opened my mouth to explain, you simply held it shut. "Did I ask you to put soap in that water?" you asked me, very calmly, but I was suddenly fucking terrified. That was the first time you truly made me tremble. I shook my head mutely, and next thing I knew my head was submerged in the water, over and over again, leaving me barely enough time to draw breath in between. I could taste nothing but soap in my mouth, and the only thing that kept me from freaking out completely was your other hand, reassuringly on my back. When you finally finished torturing me that way, you made me suck your cock, soapy mouth and all. And all it took was a low, threatening "This better be the best blowjob I ever got, bitch" for me to stop caring about how uncomfortable and out of breath I was. By the time you came, I had goosebumps all over my body, I was wet as hell, and I was also ready to cry. Somehow, the the balance shifted right there and then, and this was the first time I actually needed aftercare, I needed to be in your arms to calm down and feel whole once more. Only weeks later you admitted to me that you had, in fact, forgotten the soap. But I think this is what makes you such a great Dom. I was being smart, and I was second-guessing you, and even though I was right, that doesn't mean it was right for me to do that. I learned that that day, and I haven't forgotten it since. I enjoyed when you started to really take the initiative, decided what you liked and demanded things of me that I hadn't done before. Things that I found embarrassing, which made it a turn on for the both of us. There is nothing like thee familiar feeling of numbness, of ever-so-slight panic, of heart beating high in my chest, that I get when I do something I find embarrassing. It translates right to my clit, making in pulse in pleasure. I still don't know why it is that a certain type of nervousness and embarrassment turns me on the way it does, but I'm aware you enjoy that. To this day, being with you, and being your plaything, has only gotten more exciting. I still wonder what you'll do next. I'm still amazed by how sadistic you've gotten, and how you can make my breath come short and my mind spin wildly with a single look. It's been such a long, wonderful journey, and I know we aren't anywhere near the end of it.