Tag Archives: BDSM

Pleasure Incorporated: Stephanie and Stephen The Climax

Week One: Stephanie and Stephen

DISCLAIMER: Just a reminder this is first draft material. Don’t forget to read parts one and two before you delve into the delicious climax. Enjoy the ride. 🙂

The satin duvet was soft and cool beneath me.

“Lift your arms above your head.”

I grabbed hold of the iron headboard. He kissed my shoulder, planting nips and caresses down my arm. Holding my gaze, he slid the handcuff around my wrist. “Ready?”

“Yes.” I had no idea what to expect this evening. Of course, I knew it would involve sex, but this was beyond my wildest imaginings. I couldn’t keep my legs from writhing a little on the bed. My stomach ached with need.

The arm swung closed and clicked. He tightened the metal until it was comfortable, but gave no measure of escape. He slipped the chain around the headboard and clasped my other wrist. The final click shot fire through my body. I inhaled sharply.

He ran his hands along the sides of my body. My eyes rolled back. “Jesus.”

His whispered words near my ear startled me. “It’s Stephen.”

I smirked. “Stephen.”

His cocky grin turned me to putty. “I like how you say that.” He nibbled my ear then reached back and scooped the blindfold off the bed. “One last detail.” The satin string trailed up my belly and between my breasts as he danced it across my skin.

My fists clenched as he lay the blindfold across my eyes.

“Can you see?” he asked, adjusting the tightness of the ties.

“No.”

“Good.” His weight lifted from the bed.

I could hear him rummaging through drawers. Every sense was heightened. The smoothness of the duvet skimmed across my body as I wriggled to try and hear what he was doing. The air from the ceiling fans washed over my skin creating goosebumps, and every cell of my being had been reduced to a quivering mass of need.

“I’m here.” His voice drifted from somewhere near the end of the bed. I jumped when something cold pressed into the sole of my foot.

“That’s freezing.” I squirmed away from the onslaught creeping up my leg.

The advance never wavered, and a hand pinioned my leg. The melting path swooped up the inside of my thigh and curved over the soft mound of hair between my legs.

“You’re so hot, you melted my ice cube.” His voice was sullen, sexy.

My body collapsed after being held rigid by tension.

“Ah, but I have more.” A swirl of ice across my nipple sent the bud into a spasm of constriction, and I bucked to set it free. He straddled my waist. “Oh, no. You’re not getting away that easily.” He ran the ice cube down the sides of my ribs, and I screamed. The dripping water trickled around my back, and the shock against my blazing skin was torture.

“You are delightfully ticklish.” Blunt fingernails picked up where the ice left off, skimming the indent of my waist. I tried to kick him off.

“Do you want me to stop?” He sounded amused.

“No,” I replied with undignified panting.

His weight shifted and something soft with several tails swept over me. “This is a called a bondage whip.”

“Stephen.” This was quickly going in a direction I wasn’t ready to take it.

“I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

I couldn’t see him, couldn’t read the sincerity in his face, but I sensed it in his voice.

“Open your hand for me.”

It took a concerted effort to loosen my grip, but I did as he asked.

“I’m going to use the whip across your palm. Let me know if it hurts.”

Before I could protest, the whip snapped into my skin. I gasped, and wetness pooled between my legs.

“Did it hurt?”

“No.”

“I’m going to tease your thighs. Are you ready?”

“Oh fuck.” I resumed my death grip on the headboard.

A slap crackled through the air, heightening my senses, but the impact was delicious. No pain, just skin becoming more alive.

“Good?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Wonderful.”

A series of nips with the whip across my belly and breasts alternated with what felt like feathers. Throughout it all, as each and every inch of my skin screamed with sensation, he avoided the fire burning between my legs.

“Stephen.” I begged. “Please. I can’t take much more.”

“Oh, I think you can hold out a little longer, but I’ll reward you for your good behaviour.” Hands splayed my thighs, and his mouth pressed against me.

“You’re so fucking wet. Jesus, you taste divine.” If he was going for subtle, he seemed to lose himself in his task, and he had to hold my hips down because they were going to jerk right off the bed.

“Oh, my God.” I wanted to explode. I barely grasped reality.

“I know, baby, you’re so close. But not yet.” He left the bed, and I could hear another drawer open. Sweat pooled between my breasts, and my hair matted against my forehead. Something wild and primal had taken over, and I wanted to lose myself in its delicious chaos.

“Have you ever played with your G-spot?” he asked.

“I’ve tried, but I’m never sure if I’m doing it right.” This was humiliating.

“I love that blush.” He kissed my lips, and I devoured the silken warmth of him, my tongue lashing out to meet his. I tasted salt and sweetness. I tasted me. I’d never done that before. The thought made me heady.

He pulled away. “You are making this incredibly difficult to go slow.”

“I don’t want slow.” There. I did it. I had been reduced to whining.

He laughed. “After this orgasm, we can ramp up the pace, but this first one has to be perfect. I want you to be putty in my hands.”

More orgasms? Dear God, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it through this one! I wanted him so badly, I would have done just about anything to quench this suffocating thirst.

“Have you used a vibrator before?” A gentle hum filled my ears.

“Yes.” If he used a vibrator on me, I might literally come undone.

“Good.” He released one of my wrists, but clamped the open jaws around the headboard to keep one hand restrained. He placed the vibrator in my free hand and directed it to my clit. “I want you to hold it there. No matter what you do, do not ease up the tension. Understand?”

I couldn’t speak. I nodded.

“It may feel overwhelming, but don’t stop. Ride it out for me, all right?”

“I’ll try.” It came out as hoarse croak.

His lips caressed mine, and he held my hand against my clit as the vibrator thrummed through me. I didn’t think it was possible for my eyes to roll back any further in my head, but I might have managed.

He slid down my body, and a finger dove deep inside me. I cried out, my back arching.
His movements were slow, deliberate. He was pressing hard against my insides. My body hummed. “Hold on, Stephanie.”

“It’s too much.” I couldn’t take it. There was so much sensation.

His finger coaxed with even pressure and relentless rhythm. The vibrator slipped from my clit. He reached up and helped me find the right spot. “Right there, baby. Keep it there.”

“I can’t.” I wanted to die. I wanted to dissolve. My legs shook and spasmed.

“Yes, you can.”

Pressure made my head want to burst. Everything in my being wanted to let go, but I held back. Fear crept in and reared its ugly head.

“It’s just me, Stephanie. Let yourself go. Give in to the feeling.”

I closed my eyes tight and pushed all thought from my mind. I focused on everything my body was telling me. It wanted this. I forced my mind to take a backseat to the wild rollercoaster ride of pleasure. The climax built. My toes curled and tensed. “Stephen.”

“Now. Come for me, now, Stephanie.”

“Oh my God.” A wave of pleasure ripped through me so violently that I screamed and bucked. My eyes clamped tight, and the vibrator slipped from my hand. His mouth crashed into swollen lips and another crest blindsided me, propelling me over a precipice so high I didn’t think I could ever come down. For a moment, he merely caressed my hair.

He removed the blindfold as tremors continued to pulse through me and left the bed, returning a moment later to unclasp my hand. The handcuff slipped from my wrist and I lay there limp, shaking and incoherent. “Stephanie,” he whispered in my ear.

“Mmmhmm?” I was wrapped in a warm honey glow that I never wanted to end.

“Are you ready to do that again?”

I reached out, threaded my hand through his hair, and pulled him into me. “Definitely.”

In gratitude,

Marissa xo

In Defence of Fifty Shades and Dragons

 

www.marissacampbell.com
www.marissacampbell.com

According to Box Office Mojo, Fifty Shades of Grey grossed $239,670,000 worldwide during its opening weekend. The book itself has sold over 100,000,000 copies worldwide. There are many who have a hard time understanding this phenomenon, believing it a fluke—chalking it up to the power and momentum of hype and suggestion. For fans and devotees of E.L. James, the appeal is obvious, simple. From the other side of the fence, however, there is nothing simple about it. Most of the negative and hostile reviews are written by people who have not seen the film or read the book, however, many have done both and were horrified by what they read and saw. They interpret the messages in the book as reprehensible: rape, forced seduction, restraint, control, manipulation, abuse. Fans beg to differ.

Years ago, I moved to a new city. I didn’t know anyone and after several months, I became lonely and depressed. I used to walk my son to school every morning, and there was always a group of women standing around and chatting long after the bell had rung. I longed to join them. Then the day arrived when they invited me over. It felt like I had been given a glass of crisp spring water after stumbling through a barren, arid desert. At first, I was a little shy and uncertain, but after several mornings, I began to loosen up, laughing and chatting animatedly, enjoying the friendly camaraderie. That is until I told a joke.

One of the women regaled the group with a joke she had heard. It was cute and witty, and I chuckled along with everyone else. I offered up one of my own, one I had recently heard on a radio station. It was provocative, sexy, and a little dirty (seriously, it was really, really, funny). Except, when I delivered the punchline, I was the only one laughing. I was awarded a few polite smiles, and the conversation was diverted. That was a hard limit. Sex was off the table.

I went home that morning in a daze. I wanted desperately to fit in, and given the strict guidelines of the group, I adjusted my behaviour accordingly. I closed off a really fun, witty, playful side of myself in order to toe the line of respectable conservatism.

A part of me died that day.

Let’s flash forward a few years. I taught yoga, and I co-wrote an inspirational book called Life: Living in Fulfillment Every Day. I blogged about finding balance, about managing expectations, about finding the beauty and joy in our every moment. In my actions and thoughts, I tried to embody peace and serenity. I strove for balance and attempted to reduce stress in my life. There was an image I was expected to project, and at first, I embraced it willingly, but after a few years, I found myself wanting more. I was missing something. Part of me was still shut off. I was still toeing that line.

Let’s catch up with the present. In addition to Life, I’ve now written a historical fiction, Avelynn, which will be released this fall through St. Martin’s Press. It’s sexy, sensual, gritty, powerful, and compelling. I’ve also written a sexy, short story: Italian Delicacy, which is very yummy. Should I have written under a pen name? Hidden this other side of me? After years of tamping down my vivacious half, I coaxed it out of hiding. I offered it flowers and chocolate, begged it to come out to play. In fact, I’ve pushed so hard against the constraints and limitations that once bound me, that I’ve externalized that journey with a tattoo.

Dragons and Oms

Now, what on earth does all this have to do with Fifty Shades of Grey? Like the dragon and the OM. There are two parts of me. One is calm, the other likes to roar. One is peaceful, while one is rebellious and wild. One is mystical, the other one magical. One is powerful, one surrenders. One is dignified, and one is downright naughty. I am a kaleidoscope of colour and nuance. All women embody that brilliant tapestry. We are sexual and conservative. We can be dignified and respectable, nurturing and matronly, but we can also be playful and mischievous, hot and wild.

Women have a rich internal world and a vibrant external one. But too often, we are expected to live outwardly in a completely opposite fashion from who we really are deep down inside. Let me give you another example. Several years ago, I went out with my husband on a date. After months of spit up and diapers, I wanted to dress up—I wanted to feel sexy again. As I was leaving, kissing my children good-bye, my mother-in-law asked me if I was really going to wear that out. She was referring to a lovely blouse that showed off some considerable breastfeeding cleavage. She said this in front of my eldest. At the time, I was too dumbstruck to speak. It wasn’t until later that I explained to my son that I was a mom, but also a woman, and it was okay to be both.

I was done with shutting down that vibrant part of myself. The world needed to accept all of me. Every part, whether that fit into their expectations or solicited their judgments and disapproval. I was tired of being flat and colourless. I needed to be me. E.L. James fans get this. And they want to be given permission to enjoy the movie without condemnation and censure.

In my opinion, the appeal of Fifty Shades of Grey rests on the broad shoulders of female sexual fantasies. The part of us that we don’t always show to the world, the part that ignites a spark of desire and arousal that might not seem politically or socially acceptable—the dragon.

Studies show 30 – 60% of women have rape fantasies. For a couple interesting articles discussing these findings, feel free to investigate here and here.

To fans, the movie and books are not extolling abuse, but rather are condoning women’s fantasies, bringing to the screen a fantasy that upwards of 60% of women find arousing.

Anne Rice defended women’s fantasies in a recent Facebook post: She wrote: “Lecturing women on their fantasies, telling them NOT to like “Fifty Shades” because it includes abuse is just as bad, in my opinion, as telling women that “nice girls” don’t imagine being kissed, loved, touched, ravaged, swept off their feet. “Nice girls” can imagine anything they want.”

For a unique perspective. Huffington Post recently broke down another study by a team of researchers from the University of North Texas and the University of Notre Dame.

According to the article, there are two schools of thought as to why so many women get aroused by behaviour that the detractors of Fifty Shades of Grey consider deplorable. One is the ‘sexual blame avoidance’ theory, the other, newer, more enlightened theory is an ‘openness to sexual experience.’

The sexual blame avoidance theory proposes that women fantasize about being controlled and forced into having sex because they are unable to own their sexuality and instead worry about how society will perceive them. Being forced into and ultimately enjoying sex because of their submission removes personal responsibility—they couldn’t help themselves, it wasn’t their fault.

The women who fell under the new classification, described themselves as being open to sexual experience and didn’t feel a need to hide or repress their sexuality. They had high self-esteem and while enjoying the idea of being forced into sexual situations similar to what is depicted in Fifty Shades of Grey, they were also just as likely to fantasize about overpowering and forcing a man to surrender sexually against his will.

In Defence of Fifty Shades and Dragons

Fantasies are a natural and very normal part of our sexual lives, for both men and women, and we do ourselves a great disservice when we disavow that part of ourselves. A part of me died the day I hid the sexual, fun, flirty side of my personality. Rather than tamping down the gains we’ve made as women to express ourselves, (thank you, Madonna) to own our sexuality, to admit freely that we enjoy and think about sex as much as men do, we need to embrace all aspects of who we are. We are a dichotomy, and one aspect is not better than the other, we are both, we are all. We can stand against all forms of violence and abuse, whether it be against women, men, children or animals. We can fight injustice and ignorance. But we can also have a rich and varied fantasy life. We can be both the dragon and the OM.

In gratitude,

Marissa xo