Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Knife play is a sexy idea. Having your tight leather outfit cut off slowly is thrilling and erotic. Watching Paxton’s finger dripping with blood because he cut himself is horrific. The ER visit to have it stitched up was the cherry on top. Another huge fail.
Oil, yes a simple massage. How could this go wrong? Rubbing oil on each other was a turn-on. Hands gliding across each other’s skin. Touching, rubbing, massaging. It feels amazing. But when Paxton went to get more oil that we left in the kitchen it all went down. Literally. He rushed into the kitchen, grabbing the oil off the counter, which slipped out of his hands from all the oil on them. The oil spilled on the floor and when he went to pick it up, he slipped in the oil and fell on his ass. I heard him curse and ran out to watch him fall once more. Every time he tried to get up, he fell, bringing me down with him. He tried gripping the counter and his hand slid right off, smacking himself in the face as he slipped on the floor again. Oil should be left for cooking. Or the professionals.
Hot wax is supposed to be fun and we decide this is an easy one. This time I had him tied to the bed. It was hot seeing him at my mercy. I sat on his bare chest and poured the wax on him. When he hissed telling me it was hot, I may have been a little too into it. I replied, “Yeah, you like that, huh?” His voice changed, but I didn’t notice when he said, “No, Hart. I think it’s burning.” I went a little overboard with the dirty talk and said, “Yeah, burn for me. Burn.” He cursed, shouting the word, ‘strawberry’ at the top of his lungs, and my stomach leapt into my throat when I saw the burn marks on his chest. Hot wax, buyer beware. Another bust.
Moving on to something we can’t get injured with. We decided to try something completely different. Paxton tying me up and using a ball gag. I was excited and purchased silk sheets to set the sexy mood. What feels better than silk on your body? Well, Paxton tied me up, ankles to wrists, and put a gag in my mouth, because I wanted the full effect. So there I was on the bed and Paxton decided to go get some whipped cream for a little extra fun. When he left, I shifted and it was the worst thing I could’ve done. Those silk sheets are as slippery as the oil and I slid. With no way to stop myself, I continued to slide until I slipped between the wall and the bed. I couldn’t scream because of the gag. I couldn’t move, either. When Paxton came back in and I had disappeared, he was confused and completely shocked. It felt like hours until he found me, but honestly, it was probably more like thirty seconds. He released the ball gag from my mouth and untied me, and we fell into a fit of giggles, squashing the mood immediately. Once again a disaster.
Paxton showed up at my door with a butt plug. He held it up smiling and I slammed the door in his face. That was one thing I wasn’t willing to do. Especially with him. I opened the door, and said, “You want to play with that thing, you wear it.” And that was the end of that.
I did research and found genital clamps that could be used on Paxton’s balls. I bought them and a blindfold, surprising Paxton at his place. When I showed him, he laughed, cupping his hands between his legs. I explained how the gentle tug was supposed to be pleasurable. “Okay Hart, you put in the butt plug and I’ll use the clamp.” I packed up and left. Clamps and plugs should have a return policy.
Role play is supposed to be sexy and fun. We decided to give this a try, but with our relationship, it just felt forced. So we did some research and I found one that could work. Paxton would “break” into my house and tie me up. I was intrigued until it happened. I was asleep on the couch, forgetting tonight was the night Paxton planned his ‘break-in.’ When he touched me, I woke up in a panic and took the hardcover book I was reading, swinging it, and hitting him in the face. There was a moment of panic from both of us, but when he finally yelled, holding the side of his face, my eyes widened. “Hart, I will never again worry that you live alone. You’re obviously capable of holding your own.” I apologized over and over, grabbing an ice pack from the freezer for him to hold against his cheek. Even role play doesn’t play out how we plan.