D/s

Obsidian

My obsidian soul

My hidden places

And murky corners

All within

Dark and needy

Loud and greedy

A taste for sin

In those corners

Opaque and bleak

He can see

The light within

Despite the sin

Taking all of me

As I am

Without fear

Without shame

He knows my heart

He knows my name

As do I…

I am his

He is mine

unmasked

(Photo credit: Pinterest)

On The Radio

The year was 1990.

I was on the cusp of turning 18.  For three years, I’d been in a D/s relationship with a man 16 years older than me.  He was my mentor.  My teacher.  My friend.  My lover.  And he was my boss.

That’s right.  My boss.

Since early childhood, I’d always wanted to work in broadcasting.  I read everything I could get my hands on.  I watched how newscasters spoke.  Their inflections.  Their mannerisms.  How they changed the tone and tempo of their speech to make a point.  It was almost an obsession.  And not only on television, but also…

On the radio.

We began talking when I randomly called the radio station one evening.  He was impressed with my voice and asked if he could record me making a request.  Of course, I was flattered and agreed.  We found ourselves talking every night.  Through the phone, I began recording the nightly “Top Nine at 9” countdown.  A few weeks into it, he asked if I could come to the station and do some production (commercials, morning show intros, etc) and I was thrilled to do it.  He then put me on the payroll and I began working there twice a week.  I loved it.

He taught me how to work the control board.  How to announce and promote songs to help move them up the charts.  How to record commercials.  He helped me find my inner actress, as I began developing characters for the morning show.  He taught me so much and our attraction grew from there.  I was always far more mature than most girls my age.  By this juncture in my life, I’d had more experience than most twenty-somethings.

And out of nowhere, the relationship became physical.  And once we started down that path, there was no turning back.  We fucked everywhere.  In his car.  At his apartment.  At the radio station (on the general manager’s desk).  We had this all-consuming lust for each other and we could not contain ourselves.  We also had a deep friendship, which made it even more intoxicating.  I didn’t realize what we were doing at the time, as he never labeled it, but he was my first Dom.  He taught me to serve him.  To pleasure him.  To take whatever he wanted to give me.  I was a natural submissive.  I soaked up all of the knowledge he bestowed and honed my skills.  And as I reflect on our time together, I can now see that he was a bit of a sadist.

One evening, I was at the station, working the board with him, when he began taking my clothes off, while I was on live radio.  I was a bit rattled, but as he taught me…I was to stay focused when on air and complete my task.  I managed to finish my segway into another song before he lifted me up onto the counter and began devouring me. I was so in the moment that I almost forgot to put on the next song.  But I regained my composure and played the next one.  As I prepped a long segment of music (four in a row) to give us more time, I’d hoped he would resume his meal…but instead, he pushed me to my knees and rammed himself deep into my throat.

Three songs played as I sucked his cock.  He taught me how he liked it…deep and slow.  And I obliged.  As the fourth song began to play, he pulled me up, turned me around and spread my legs open from behind…

His fingers dove deep into my dripping slit.  He was rough in his pursuit of my spot.  I was so close…so very close…and the song was running out.  I pulled myself together (with his digits still probing inside me) and announced the weather.  It was so hard not to moan while he finger-fucked me.  But I kept composure, once again, and got through my lines.

I prepped for two songs in row by the same artist.  I thought it would give us time to finish our tryst.  He pulled his fingers from my sloppy wet cunt and had me suck each and every one of them clean.  He then bent me over and fucked me from behind for a couple of minutes, directing me to then suck his cock clean.  The second song was running out.  I was getting panicked that I would miss my cue, so I rushed through his directive and grabbed the mic to speak.

As the first words fell from my salty lips, I felt him grope my backside, spread open my cheeks and push his large cock into my ass.  I know I must have gasped on air.  It hurt.  But it was so hot and so primal that I pushed myself into him, practically begging him to fuck me deeper.  He rode my ass relentlessly.  Growling.  Squeezing my flesh with his fingers.  Pulling my hips on his cock as hard as he could.  Lifting me up off of the floor as he penetrated me.  I’d never had anal like that before.  It is where I first recognized my masochistic tendencies.

Once again I pulled myself together to announce an upcoming contest.  He was still inside me.  He was pounding my ass as I spoke to thousands of listeners.  I could barely get audible words out of my mouth. As soon as the mic was off, he pushed my face down on the counter and filled me with his hot load.  He growled under his breath, “next time you try to rush through your directives, I will fuck your ass harder.  And you will take it.  Understand?”  And boy did I understand.  I couldn’t wait for the next time.

And we fucked like that for years.  On air.  Off air.  In the production booth.  At remotes.  We fucked every time we could.  Anytime.  Anywhere.  And yes…

Even on the radio.  

on the radio