Firsts, part 1

It started innocently enough. As if anything could be termed “innocent” with him, and, after all, I was tied in his bed, my legs spread and raised above me in a “V”, my cunt open and waiting for his attention. My mind open and waiting for his attention, too.
I’d been the focus of his rather close attention all that weekend, and more recently just that afternoon, while he’d spread me open and “inspected” me, taking down measurements of my cunthole—“calibrating” me for various and nefarious mysterious implements of torture he has in mind to make for me. Just prior to that, he had left me sitting up in the bed, my arms tied above me and a long glass dildo shoved into my cunt, with my legs akimbo, the heels of my shoes tied together just so, so that they would hold the thing inside me while he gathered his “instruments.” I was already so blissed out on sex and so deep in the space he’d had me all weekend, a place where I was just girlmeat, fuckmeat, for his use, that I happily, and without even the usual twinge of embarrassment I feel at such things, ground it into my pussy as deep as I could with no hands and only the spike heels of my shoes as tools.
There is a delicious feeling of lightness, of freedom, in this space. There is no thought of what I look like, what he thinks of me, other than that he has me exactly where he wants me, and as such, likes what he sees (I assume.) There is no thought of hiding behind modesty or fear or shyness, behind inhibitions, because he has stripped all that from me. I am simply my most primal self, open and naked in a way that merely stripping my clothing would not accomplish; he has stripped my sense of self that includes who I am in the “outside” world, in that space “out there,” leaving only this body, an open vessel for him to empty and fill as he sees fit.
And he filled it, over and over.
He shifted me around so that he could hang me with my arms and legs tied from ropes hanging down from the ceiling like a side of beef while he poked and prodded and measured me, using the beautiful glass dildo as his depth finder, inserting and pulling it out, pushing it deeper each time. Just when I’d begin to shift a bit, to wiggle it deeper into me or try for some other point of pleasure, he’d calmly pull it out and make a note in his notebook (no really, he wrote in a notebook! and on my ass!), as though he didn’t know he was making crazy. I don’t often say the words, but they were in my head: fuck me fuck me! After a while I simply stopped thinking, let myself drift, stopped wanting and just allowed myself to be, a “thing,” after all. An open hole, a measurement.
But then after the dildo there were the steel balls.
We’ve all read about “ben wa” balls, the little Japanese pleasure toy. Well, get that thought right out of your head. Though round, and made for inserting into a woman’s hole, these are as far from ben wa balls as a redwood is from a Christmas tree. These are heavy steel balls…at least two sizes, small and medium, and maybe a larger set too, I can’t remember.
The small was as far as he got with me that afternoon. He didn’t just insert two though, oh no, nothing as commonplace, as boring, as that (seriously, two would be boring, what would be the point, when you have a whole lovely cunt to fill, all that warm, stretching flesh?) Oh no, he pushed many more than that inside me, I think 10 or 12 when he was done, one after another, gradually filling me with their weight and the smooth, rolling motion of them until I thought my head would burst, along with my pussy. It’s an incredible feeling, how they shift around, pushing and stretching your insides…feeling his fingers stretching the flesh of my cuntlips open, pushing the balls inside me, one by one; his fingers, thick and implacable; and me, my legs spread, hands tied, unable to stop him, even if I had wanted to, which, god help me, I didn’t. I wanted to be filled as full as he could make me, as he went on I just became this thing, this wide open gaping hole of need, and, eventually, it brought out something animalistic in me, something feral and greedy and clawing: the pure, mindless desire to be filled, to be fucked, to have his cock in me, to feel him shoving into me, thrusting against me, grinding into me and into the balls, pushing them inside me, pounding them into the soft flesh inside me. I wanted to feel him hammering at me, wanted to feel his body on mine, his weight, his skin under my hands; wanted to swallow him whole, to suck him into me through my cunt, through that gaping hole inside me. I wanted to come, to feel the spasm of my body around his, and around the strange, heavy stretching fullness inside me.
And I got all that, and more.
(to be continued…)