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December, 2013

  1. Heather and the Gangbang

    December 16, 2013 by Heather Cole

    I sat on a thick oriental rug and watched the other masters and slaves from beneath my lashes. I felt shy, butterflies of anxiety erupting in my gut. I had been told to sit and wait for my master, so that’s exactly what I did. I didn’t recognize the faces around me, and I felt too awkward to approach any of them and start a conversation. They sat or stood, the chairs grouped in a loose semicircle at the center of the room. I stared at the pattern on the rug and tried not to fidget.

    Finally sir strode over to me with a smile on his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a mischievous look. He pulled me to my feet and into his arms, and I buried my face in the crook of his neck. He smelled like soap and sandalwood, and part of me calmed at the familiar scents.

    “I love you,” he murmured into my ear. “You are my treasure. Do you know this?” One of his hands grabbed a handful of hair and pulled my head back so he could see my eyes.

    “Yes, sir,” I replied, wincing slightly at the small pain.

    “Good girl.”

    He laced my fingers with his and led me to a sage green couch at the side of the room. I hadn’t noticed it before, but its wide cushions looked more like a bed than a couch you would see in a living room. My butterflies came back with a rush when I saw the dark leather circles of my cuffs resting on top of it. I turned to sir with a questioning look as he pulled out a silk blindfold from his pocket.

    “Do you trust me?” he asked. I nodded wordlessly, and I felt the cool material smooth down my forehead and over my eyes. “Do you trust me to make all your fantasies come true?”

    I could feel my lips tremble as I tried to form the response he required. Some of my dark fantasies should not have been forged into reality, because they often strayed into that gray area of consensual non-consent with strangers. But I couldn’t think of what to say other than ‘yes.’ There were no stipulations made with sir. I either trusted him with every ounce of being or I didn’t trust him at all.

    I couldn’t see the other masters and slaves in the room, but I heard their movements. I recognized the heavy fall of a flogger against tender flesh and the wet slapping noises of rough sex. There were moans and cries, and even though I wanted to see, I was also grateful for the blindfold. That way I wouldn’t know who was watching, and I could focus completely on my owner.

    Sir stripped me and then gently pushed me back on to the couch. I felt the warm slip of cotton rope around my wrists and ankles, and sir eased me into a spreadeagled position. I felt completely exposed, my flesh rippling into goosebumps. I also realized that I was growing wet between my legs with anticipation. I squirmed against my bonds, trying to sense where sir was. In that moment all I wanted was him inside me, claiming me and easing away my nervousness.

    I felt movement beside me and then the familiar weight of my master. His cock slid inside me, and I eagerly raised my hips to take all of him. I felt the beginnings of an orgasm as he thrust inside me, but the couch dipped again, and I felt another set of hands on my body. The rope was loosened, and someone pushed me so that I was on my side. Sir was still inside me, but he had changed position too and my leg was now held up in the air. I stiffened when I felt a second cock push against my anus. I gasped at the size, and my master’s voice was in my ear.

    “His cock is huge, and you’re going to take all of it. It’s going to feel amazing.”

    He was right. My misgivings about the man’s size vanished as soon as sir said the words. He told me I would love it, and my body obeyed even as my thoughts struggled to keep pace. I was safe with sir. He would protect me even as he pushed my boundaries. Silently I embraced the new intrusion with each movement of pleasure. The man’s size stretched me open in a way I had never experienced before, and I was awash in a mixture of shame and excitement and unadulterated lust. As I was impaled by sir and the stranger, a feeling of ecstasy washed through me. I held my position as well as I could, relishing the double penetration with my quivering body. I cried out when the orgasm took me, my fingernails digging into my palms.

    Suddenly there was a hand in my hair, and my head was pulled back. I felt the blunt head of a third cock push past my lips, and instinctively I opened my mouth to accommodate it. I was overwhelmed by the sensations overloading my body. The cock reached into the back of my throat, and my thoughts clicked off. I was nothing but a body caught and stretched like a butterfly pinned to a mat. I came again and again, my moans swallowed as the cock moved in and out of my mouth. The man above me grunted as he came, and then the man in my ass ejaculated. I swallowed, thinking that we would stop, but two more men took their places. As my master whispered encouragements and maintained his steady rhythm, I relished the feeling of submitting to him and being used as his pleasure toy. The sensations were intense, hedonistic indulgence overriding all logical thought.

    I was still licking cum from my lips when I felt the two men leave my side, and then sir was untying the ropes. I frowned when sir told me to keep my eyes closed as he removed the blindfold. Sir hadn’t finished, and he was the one that I wanted to please the most. But I felt like I had no bones. I was a puddle of sweat and sex, and my body ached from being penetrated. Even the back of my throat felt raw. Sir scooped up my sore body and moved to the edge of the couch and grabbed my hair.

    “On your knees at the edge of the couch.”

    I knew better than to protest, and part of me wanted to finish him. Master had gone to the trouble of making this fantasy come true for me. The least I could do was repay him with an orgasm. I felt my way to the floor and knelt between his legs. No further instructions were needed as I found the sensitive flesh between his thighs. He used my mouth roughly, always one hand twisted through my hair, angling my head in the way he preferred. Saliva dripped from my chin to the floor, my excitement growing at the sounds of sir’s pleasure. I hoped he would finish on my face, and the act was all the more precious because it was a rare event. With a final guttural yell, sir pulled out of my mouth and came on my face. I smiled as the sticky, wet cream covered my nose and cheeks and dripped down on my chest. I waited, still grinning, for the command that I could open my eyes and get up.

    “As I count backwards from 5, you will gradually awaken from your trance. You will remember everything we’ve done here, every word and every sensation. 5… 4… 3… opening your eyes and beginning to stir… 2… 1… fully awake.”

    I opened my eyes to find myself kneeling beside my bed in a pool of saliva and cum. There was no room full of masters and slaves, no rope or strangers penetrating my body. It was just me and sir and my vivid subconscious. I looked up at him, amazed and slightly chagrined.

    “I figured that a hypnosis gangbang would be as much fun as the real thing without the added hassle of finding and organizing the participants or the risk of contracting an STI,” he said.

    I’m sure I responded, but what came out was probably a stuttering garbled mess. I was in shock. Good shock, but shock nonetheless.

    As we cleaned up and eventually climbed back into bed to snuggle, I went over and over the events of the evening. It felt like the gangbang had physically happened and I had experienced a triple penetration. I think I said “I can’t believe it” a million times before sir shushed me to sleep. That night is now tinged with a dreamlike quality, but every part of me believes it happened. In fact, my ass was sore the next day like it had been stretched to accommodate a very well-endowed man. It was the most amazing mindfuck I had ever experienced.

    I wonder where we’re going next.

     

    Category Group Sex | Tags: ,,,,,,, | 3 Comments

  2. We’re Porn for Women and We’re Proud

    December 12, 2013 by Heather Cole

    When Nikki and I began this blog almost two years ago, our focus was on writing about our evolving sexual identity and new sexual experiences and connecting with readers despite any differences of kink, relationship style or personal grooming disasters. Our goal was to connect with others in our kink community, the online and sex blogging communities and hopefully appeal to a broad readership. Because even though what we did in the bedroom and out of it may have been different from what y’all did, many of the emotions were similar. We wanted to offer titillating anecdotes, but more importantly, we wanted to communicate authentically about sexuality. And we hoped that you felt us. You know… felt us deeply.

    During our newbie year of sex blogging if you had called Vagina Antics “porn,” we probably would have disagreed. We’re writing about our lives and trust me, sweeties, my life is definitely not a porn shoot. For one thing, the dialogue is better. But mainly we’d disagree because the word “porn” alienates a lot of people. Like any label, it doesn’t describe the breadth of what we write here. However, at the same time we realize that for many people, our antics are something they’d search for on PornHub. Or at least they’d think about searching for it on PornHub.

    When we were featured in the article “Porn for Women: A Tasteful Guide to Sexy Time” by Rachel Zar, Nikki and I were ECSTATIC to be considered part of the porn genre and to be numbered among these wonderful websites, writers and bloggers.

    Here’s what Ms. Zar had to say about Vagina Antics:

    “First of all, the writers of this blog, Heather and Nikki, are super kinky. They’ve tried stuff many women wouldn’t even dream of — orgies, BDSM, laser hair removal down there… But the great thing about these two BFFS is that their writing is so relatable, funny, and honest that they’ll have you accepting all these sexy habits as normal ways of life — and probably even craving to try them yourselves.”

    I have to chuckle at the use of “normal” in this instance, because both Nikki and I see our sexual practices as completely normal. But I understand what Ms. Zar is saying, and it’s precisely what we’ve wanted for this blog and our books. Maybe the concept/position/toy strikes you as unusual or exotic, but we still want you to enjoy your time here. We want to entertain you and make you think both in and out of your pants and get you wet/hard/horny. Yup, we want to take over the world with our vaginas. Metaphorically speaking. So thank you, Refinery29 and Rachel Zar, for including us in your porn extravaganza! We hope y’all enjoy the ride.

    *vagina high-five*

    Heather

     

    Category Sex | Tags: ,, | 2 Comments

  3. Hypnosis and Sex

    December 4, 2013 by Heather Cole

    If you had told me two months ago that I would be a great candidate for hypnosis, I would have replied that you were full of shit. My mind, my will, my consciousness… these are sacred things to me, and the thought of remanding them over to someone else seemed preposterous. Just no fucking way. Two months ago I didn’t know that my dominant was interested in learning how to hypnotize me, so when he and broached the topic on the ride to a party, I figured he was mostly kidding. It turned out that he was serious, and I soon found out how much.

    That party was the first time I was ever hypnotized. Our friend, Kuma, was happy to teach sir the fundamentals. Kuma taught classes on hypnosis and had years of experience hypnotizing people. He was an ethical man and a mentor to sir. So when he told me to stare at the iridescent knife, I obeyed. Part of me thought it wouldn’t work. I assumed that I would stare at the knife, indulge my master and then refill our drinks. The idea of hypnosis was exciting in theory in a similar way that the theory of a gangbang is exciting to me. The actual real life application, though, inspired some anxiety. I was a little leery about someone messing with my mind even though it would be my beloved.

    The reflection of light from the knife seemed to glow in swirling patterns of greens and blues. It was like staring down into a well of aquamarine water, the patterns undulating and ever-changing. Kuma’s voice was deep and even when he told me to relax and let my eyes shut. As I felt the last of the tension leave my muscles, I had the spark of thought that this felt like meditating. When I opened my eyes again, I was in the exact same position with sir and Kuma watching me intently.

    “Did it work?” I asked.

    Kuma picked up my arm and held my palm. “Can you feel this?” he asked. I watched as he pressed the point of his knife into my hand.

    “What did you do?” I shrieked.

    One blaring thought pushed to the forefront of my mind. I should be yanking my hand back. The knife point should hurt, but I didn’t feel a blessed thing. My right arm hung like a bag of meat from my shoulder, and my feet were stuck to the floor as if they were mired in cement.

    After the knife, a lighter was held under my palm and still I felt nothing. My brain was sending me all sorts of messages about what should be happening, but physically I felt the opposite. The cognitive dissidence left me breathless and unsure exactly how I should feel about it. I stood that way, slack-jawed and in awe, until I was released when Kuma said the word “broccoli.”

    We left the party that night with the promise from Kuma that he would teach us more. Sir was feeling pleased and excited. I could tell by the sparkle in his eyes and the tone of his voice, and he kept talking about all the fun we could have. I agreed for the most part. The catch for me was bringing the fantasy into our reality. My mind immediately shifted  into practical mode, and I couldn’t help but worry about the implications. I willingly submitted to sir on a daily basis. Hell, I lived most of my life in a  24/7 D/s relationship, and I was owned and collared in every sense of the word. But I considered my mind a stronghold of independence, the last frontier for lack of a better phrase. Even though Kuma assured me that I wouldn’t do anything under hypnosis that I wouldn’t do consciously, I still felt some reservation.

    The second time I was hypnotized, sir, Kuma and I were at my house. We had good food and great conversation, and afterwards we moved into the living room so Kuma could give a more formal lesson about hypnosis. I sat on the floor and looked at a swirling pattern on Kuma’s phone. This spiraling image became a vision in my head, the same kind of mental movie I get when I write. My eyes felt heavy as my body slowly relaxed, and when I closed them, I could see the white marble stairs that curved into a spiral staircase. My heels clicked on the stone as I stepped down, and the wrought iron bannister felt cool and smooth beneath my fingers. Down and down I walked until I reached the bottom. There was a room with a fireplace and a leather chair placed before it. I sat and relaxed into the chair, the leather warm from the fire. I watched the flames dance merrily, pulling me in further. Deeper. And I lost myself watching them.

    This time when I opened my eyes I was still seated on the floor, but I felt different. Mainly because I was no longer wearing jeans and a shirt. Kuma and sir were grinning at me like two Cheshire Cats.

    “Why am I in my underwear?” I asked.

    “Because Kuma told you it was really hot by the fire. You got sweaty and had to take off your clothes.”

    The fact that the fire they referred to was the imaginary one in my head in the vision of the room at the end of the spiral staircase was unsettling to say the least. Not only had I reacted physically to a vision they had given me, but they had also planted a trigger word. If sir spoke a specific word to me, I would drop into a trance immediately. I had visions of going under at a party, or even worse, at a dinner with friends. One thing was certain, I did not want to end up as a joke like the person who’s hypnotized and told they’re a chicken. Sir promised to be judicious, and I trusted him. And from the experiments done that evening, we determined that I was highly susceptible to hypnosis. There are people who can’t be hypnotized at all and others, like myself, who can be hypnotized easily. Most people fall between these two extremes of the spectrum.

    Kuma reminded both of us that if I didn’t consent to being hypnotized from the outset, and if I didn’t trust sir in this capacity, it would be impossible to hypnotize me. I had to want to go under in order for sir to be able to do it. He would also be able to make me remember everything he said or the things we did while I was hypnotized if he wished. Kuma then pointed out that hypnosis could be a powerful tool for reinforcing positive, constructive thoughts which was how I was familiar with it. My mother had used hypnosis as part of her therapy practice for years. And to illustrate his point, they hypnotized me and worked on replacing a mental block I had about running ten miles to make me think something positive and helpful instead. It worked. When I hit mile ten during the half-marathon, I felt a burst of energy and I had the thought, “this feels easy!” None of us knew that night that I would also need the positive message planted for miles 11-13 too.

    I still don’t know what the trigger word is, and so far sir has used hypnosis only during sex. I have a second to think, “Oh, so that’s what the trigger word is!” Then I’m opening my eyes again and can’t remember the word. Dammit! Sometimes the hypnosis feels like a skip in the vinyl record of my brain. There’s this hitch where the music and lyrics don’t flow continuously. For example, one night I gave sir a great (I like to think fantastic) blowjob. He had an orgasm, I swallowed, and I remember thinking that we could snuggle and fall asleep. Moments later, I was still kneeling beside him, but I was reaching for his cock again. I felt hungry for him, and I wanted his hardness in my mouth and his come down my throat. It was an overwhelming need all of a sudden and I acted on it.

    Sir said in mock innocence, “but you just gave me a blowjob.”

    “Are you complaining?” I replied.

    In that moment, I felt like I was the one in control. Even though I had a sense that my desire for another blowjob was his idea planted through hypnosis, it felt like my own. It was like the day-to-day concerns of my “regular” brain had been thrown aside to tap into the wild child that I keep (mostly) restrained. We fucked for hours with abandon, and I loved every moment of it. All it took was that one idea to throw open the doors of a fantastic night of sex that I hadn’t previously considered. Now I can’t wait for the next time.

     

    Category D/s | Tags: ,, | 8 Comments