#terry dust

[ozkar-krapo]

V/A

"TapRoot #19-20 : Cleveland Language"

(cassette. Burning Press. 1990) [US]

[beautifulterriblequeen]

They couldn't stop her.

But who is they, and who's that on the ground?

I see Claudia and Aaravos up front.

Allen right behind them.

Soren and Terry.

Maybe that's Aanya kneeling?

Over... Lujanne...?

[gbaaalex]

i..... i think i made something...

sigh.

[the-bi-fangirl-biatch]

the finale haters are so BORING like cmon man. complain all you guys want about it, but me and the angst enjoyers here are gonna be LIVING because of how much delicious potential the next season has. and this is neil fucking gaiman we're talking about! their sets are still standing, their costumes bagged and tagged, and you don't think this man would work his ass of to give us a happy ending? the man who wants to make sure this is alllllll worthy for his friend's memory?? let the (serious and/or violent) stress go and have some faith!

[surfqueenoftheisles]

DID in the HDM world: Deamons

alter in a polyfragmented system here with questions:

okay so in his dark materials if a deamon is representative of ones soul, when there's a DID system does the system have one deamon who never settles to one form?

do the system have one deamon that is settled into one form but it's different for each adult alter changing only as they switch?

if the latter is true can the deamon shapeshift freely only when a little is in front?

when they're co-con is the deamon a hybrid chimera of the two or more alters who are there?

in that case if an adult is co-con with a little can only half of the deamon shapeshift?

if so is that the front half, the back half, the left half or the right half or just the middle or just the top half (furthest from the ground) or just the bottom half (touching the ground) or some other way???

what if the alters are blending???

or is it that each alter has their own deamon who's out as they are? (most plausible in my opinion)

is it that everyone's deamon is out at all times regardless of who's in front so polyfragmented systems have a zoo of deamons following them everywhere some of which require different terrain (like fish) and some of those deamons can still shapeshift because they belong to the littles???

also which is funnier?????

[transgenderboobs]

need to get a new hyperfixation where the creator is like a hermit or dead or something so i can live in peace. the era of my favorite medias writers being on twitter is my nightmare

[bringbackwendellvaughn]

[moviemosaics]

Dust Devil

directed by Richard Stanley, 1992

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: Jordan Martins

Jordan Martins is a musician, organizer, educator, and visual artist whose works have been shown in Chicago and Brazil. While he has played steel guitar and other instruments for years with the singer / songwriter Angela James, his first solo album, Fogery Nagles, was released by the Astral Spirits label in the fall of 2023. In his review for Dusted, Bill Meyer wrote, “Fogery Nagles arrives, seemingly out of nowhere, but just at the right time.”

Sarah Davachi — Cantus Figures Laurus

I’m a sucker for long-form droney music in general and as of late I’ve been bathing in organ music of this kind as much as possible. I had really enjoyed Davachi’s other works but fell fully under her spell with this box set of works from the last few years with over four hours of heavy tones unfolding in various ways. I like to listen to this as loud as possible to feel these sounds as vibrations. There are several shorter tracks that focus on a particular palette or tonality, with the later tracks being from live recordings of longer performances. Even though the set is a compilation joining these sets of works together after the fact, I love this body of work as a sequence of experiences.

Caetano Veloso — Araça Azul

It’s hard to pick a favorite Veloso record, but if I had to it would be the utterly unique Araça Azul, recorded in 1972 when he returned to Brazil after being exiled by the military dictatorship years prior. The record is markedly outside of the original zeitgeist of the Tropicalia movement — less ecstatic, hopeful, collaborative, and postmodern in the mixing of styles — but at the same it’s maybe the purest expression of the experimental range of sounds and poetry that the movement ushered in. There are other musicians playing on some tracks, but the whole thing feels like a single creative brain tinkering with ideas and sounds until they take enough shape to be a “song.” There’s a fundamental collage approach that I love — where he engages in field recordings, musique concrète, dissonant orchestrations overlapping on simple folk melodies, and transformative and ballsy covers of classics by singers like Monsueto and Milton Nascimento.

Angelika Niescier, Savannah Harris, Tomeka Reid — Beyond Dragons

I had the good fortune of seeing this trio play at Elastic in Chicago this past spring. When they finished their set, my wife leaned over to me and said “THAT WAS HOT SHIT” which is maybe the most accurate thing to say about these players and this music. Niescier’s compositions are somehow tight and specific while simultaneously giving each player ample room to flex and explore with abundant space around the components of each piece. I love their ability to charge into a piece full steam with an almost aggressive sense of urgency and then allow their interactions to gradually fragment and dissolve into textural interplays and quiet call-and-response improvisations.

Paul Franklin— solos on “Together Again”

A friend hipped me to a video of Paul Franklin soloing over the Buck Owens classic “Together Again” and I’ve since gone down YouTube rabbit holes watching as many clips as I can find (and I see other people in the comments on the same journey). Franklin is a Nashville legend who has played pedal steel on hundreds of recordings since the seventies. As a member of the Time Jumpers, he plays as a sideman to Vince Gill at local venues in Nashville covering classic country songs, often playing this tune which originally featured Tom Brumley playing a quick steel solo that used some very innovative voicings at the time. Franklin’s playing is so technically brilliant, but it also illustrates the ways in which the instrument can be psychedelic and disorienting, even in a conventional setting. His solos always follow a basic architecture but there’s subtle variations, improvisations and flourishes in every version where you can see him trying to find new ways of cracking it open. My favorite clips are the ones where he goes out on a limb and the audience is noticeably giggling as they experience the sonic floor drop out from under them like they’re on a carnival ride.

Nicholas Britell— “Unto Stone We are One”, funeral “March Song of Ferrix,” season 1 finale of Andor

I sometimes dabble in the questionable array of new Star Wars projects and absolutely loved Andor’s vision of a bureaucratic fascist space empire, not spending a second on jedis and lightsabers, instead examining the interrelationships of imperial occupations, military contractors, and resistance movements. The last episode is masterful in part because the tension of the entire season simmers to a boil during a funeral procession with working class miners playing junky space orchestral instruments. The score of this funeral march by Nicholas Britell is a haunting, yearning motif that steadily builds but the stroke of genius is how perfectly out of tune the instruments are! Such a simple and surprising choice does such heavy lifting in terms of adding a sense of materiality to the setting and imbuing the dramatic build up with a subtle unease beneath the gorgeous arrangements.

Terry Riley— Music for The Gift

A very early work by Riley experimenting with tape loops, with an approach that is uncannily prescient in the way it does a live remix of a jazz quartet as they improvise around tunes. The fact that this particular quartet was Chet Baker’s (with trombonist Luis Fuentes, drummer George Solano, and bassist Luigi Trussardi) is a surprising interlocutor in all of this: it would maybe seem more fitting to for this to involve an unorthodox voice rather than a more straight ahead, idiomatic jazz player for these out-of-the-box experiments. But I think the music works precisely because of the nimble-swinging of the group as Riley cuts up and repeats their melodies and phrasing back onto them in a slurry of loops that piles up and interacts with their improvising in unexpected ways. The clarity and charm of Baker’s playing is a perfect fit. Peter Margasak wrote a great piece about it for Sound American that you can find here.

Macie Stewart and Lia Kohl— Recipe for a Boiled Egg

Two of my favorite improvisers in Chicago. They are so emblematic of what I love about the creative scene here in the ways that they endlessly collaborate across a range of genres and scenes, whether improvising or composing, playing songs or deconstructing forms. This is a biased pick because they recorded this at Comfort Station, the small and idiosyncratic multidisciplinary art space I run in Chicago. The thing that first drew me to Comfort Station was the building’s unique vibrant acoustics and the porousness of sound that you get with an old building directly facing a busy street. Macie and Lia lean into that context in stunning ways on this recording, narrowing in on their voices and their bowed instruments reverberating and inviting in sounds from the outside world instead of recording in the controlled environment of a studio. You can hear ideas take shape as each listens, responds, builds, grows, dissolves into the other’s playing, with a recording quality that grounds them to a particular time and place.

Olivier Messiaen — “Louange à l’Éternité de Jésus,” from the Quartet for the End of Time

This is probably the single most impactful and cosmic piece of music I’ve ever encountered. Messiaen wrote all the movements for the Quartet for the End of Time while he was in a Nazi POW camp, and the entire work is on another level. But the sixth movement — just piano and cello — brings me to my knees every time I hear it. The first time I heard it was somewhat random and personal: during my freshman year of college, my mom was coincidentally the staff accompanist at the conservatory of the university I attended. And I would often borrow her car to run errands while she was rehearsing with music majors preparing their senior recitals. On one such occasion I was tip-toeing back into her studio to return her keys and heard a bass player (bass majors often adapt cello pieces for their senior recital) bowing the opening notes of the melody which seems to ask for a dissonant response from the piano. Instead, I heard my mom play the slow, pulsing major triad chord that entered in response, settling the piece into a hypnotic journey. I felt like the floor gave way in an instant and I had never experienced anything like it. Susan Alcorn has adapted it for solo pedal steel in a really unique way melding the harmony and melody together, and Atomic included it on their 2018 release of covers, Pet Variations, playing with deep restraint that the piece calls for while also letting the energy bubble up restlessly.

Jeanne Lee — Conspiracy

It’s hard to find a better expression of vocals and poetry integrated into a free jazz setting than this brilliant 1975 record, with Jeanne Lee leading a killer ensemble including Steve McCall and Sam Rivers among others. I had never heard Lee’s work before coming across this album when it was re-released by Moved-by-Sound in 2021 and I was struck by how much sparseness there is (somewhat similar to some of Caetano Veloso’s delicate moments on Araça Azul even), and how simple utterances give way to grooves and freakouts with the rest of the players wrapping around Lee’s command of the sonic space. If I’m being honest, I think these kinds of approaches to free form improvisations can often collapse into a kind of cheesiness or ham-fistedness, and this record NEVER once gets close to that, everything feels so purposeful even when the exploration is at its outer limits.

Olaibi — Mimihawasu

Although I had heard her playing on works by Japanese band OOIOO, this is a musician/project that I hadn’t heard of by name until someone I follow on Instagram posted that they had passed away this October (coincidentally on my birthday). Something in the way they eulogized her touched me deeply and I listened to all of her records in the days after (and often since). Maybe it is because my exposure to her music was immediately tied to her recent death, but there’s something so profound, tragic, beautiful, frail, intimate and loving about her music all at once. I wish I had heard her more before her passing, but I’m grateful that in the wake of her death this world of sounds has entered my life.

[sanktpolypenbourg]

Ah the age old dilemma of, obviously you base the races of Pratchett's 'The Carpet People' on dust mites, that's a given, but how much do you stylize them as little Asterix men and how much do you go with the real deal?

[cozza-frenzy]

No, no it should not. Try using a cane, and adjust the height so the handle is where your wrist bends. Having something to lean on has meant we can enjoy museums and art galleries a lot more, because we can actually stop and read the signs without pain distracting us! Even the parts of us that don't want to inconvenience others are happier, because we don't have to sit down so often! And to the people reblogging our post and saying they experience this but aren't going to do anything about it? You're not doing yourself any favors by suffering. Mobility aids are for anyone who needs them.

sometimes I forget standing up isn’t painful and difficult for most people so I’ll be watching something like game changer and see the people standing behind their podiums the whole episode and think ‘wow don’t they need to sit down. how can they still think coherent thoughts’ and then I’m like oh. yeah. I have a disease

[cozza-frenzy]

how does unfusing consciously work? I thought that was soemthing that only happens in cases of splitting, and how does doing science in the inner world make you unfuse?

Terry: Okay so, full disclaimer I guess - this sort of thing is pretty much uncharted territory in terms of solid facts. Don't expect me to cite sources, because they literally don't exist. Dissociative Identity Disorder - as a lived experience from the perspective of a system - is not well-researched or well-documented. The only thing remotely similar to what we managed to do that I've seen mentioned in actual literature, is the use of "rituals" to achieve fusion or "revive" an alter the system is convinced has died. But that said... the reason I mention rituals, is because in "meta terms", we basically needed a way to trick our brain into having a reason to separate Roy and Bitter. But for details, I'm actually going to hand this one over to Roy and Bitter - given this directly involves them and was the result of their own will, they're the ones best qualified to talk about this.

Roy: Okay so, both me and Bitter still existed as individuals - he'd been dormant, but when he woke up he was sharing a body with me in the inner world. In more "meta" terms, our brain was making both of us occupy the same space; wherever my part went, it was dragging his part around with me. And whenever one of us became fully conscious (fronted) the other would be there along for the ride (in a semi-conscious state), and this was causing problems for the system. Bitter: Nobody was happy about this. I was dysphoric, being aware of being in my in-sys body inside another in-sys body was giving me a headache while at front, and given we both shared the same "pool" of energy, neither of us could do our jobs properly. Roy: So together, we made the conscious decision to re-separate - but we needed a way to convince our subconscious that something had caused this to happen. And with some help from Hyi, I took things back to my in-system laboratory, and spent a few days without sleep (never going fully unconscious) planning and building. In meta terms, as Terry put it, I suppose you could call it writing a damn good story to tell our uncooperative brain, so it would actually let us follow through on what we decided to do. One artificial body, some bottled lightning I'd been saving for a special occasion, and a modified version of my Mind Transfer Machine later, and we separated successfully. The effort knocked the body out for a period of more than 12 hours, but since then we've been able to behave independently without our consciousnesses being "conjoined". Bitter: As evident from the fact we're both co-conscious right now, but keep tripping over each other to front. It's honestly a huge relief that we could make this work; we've done "rituals" before to achieve fusion (which varied from a Steven Universe-like "fusion dance" to writing up and signing an adoption contract) but we've never heard of anyone consciously separating a failed one. Don't know if that makes us the first, but if anyone else is struggling with an unstable subsystem, I hope it gives them a possible way out.

Roy: Trying to live this way can be hard sometimes, but my source was a world where nobody got to decide anything for themselves - our lives were literally scripted, our episodes already written, our actions pre-determined. Once I showed up here and realized not only could I choose to do things but my choices mattered, I've made it my life's goal to stick two middle fingers up at anyone who says you can't. This is my home. This is my chosen family. And I'll tear our inner reality apart at the seams if if means they get to stay safe and happy.

[archivyrep]

Beyond "negative perception" of archives and archivists in pop culture [Part 1]

Quote from abstract of Doria's publication about perception of archivists

In May 2022, Gianni Penzo Doria, the director of State Archives of Venice, wrote a publication entitled Asterix, the Others, and the Archives: The Cinema perception of the archival profession. [1] This publication was of specific interest as it focuses on the "negative perception" archives and archivists have in popular culture. It notes how the role of the archivist is lost in common perception, with "boring old stereotypes" paired with lack of attention and "poor visibility" of archives.

Reprinted from my Wading Through the Cultural Stacks WordPress blog. Originally published on Sept. 28, 2022.

The book's preface, by Micaela Procaccia, president of National Association of Italian Archives (ANAI), emphasizes the need to limit the inconsistency between perception of archives in archives and the perception of archivists as "stiff and dull bureaucrats and even foolish servants." It suggests possible (and appropriate) self-criticism which avoids technical language and self-reference while acknowledging that lack of knowledge of archives is the cause of the persistent idea that mold and dust is present in archives, and among archivists. He concludes by saying that society needs professional archivists and holds out hopes that a movie director will imagine a "brave archivist who, confronting risks and dangers, saves an historical record, unveils a plot, defeats the evil". [2]

These comments and more make me think about what I've written about on this blog. This is especially the case since Doria notes the representation of archivists as "third-rate employees" with repetitive procedures, safeguarding their solitude, avoiding human contact, surrounded by dust and insects, and "isolated from the organizational context of the technostructure they operate in". [3] While various Italian films, and other Hollywood films are discussed in Boria's article. He highlights, first, Terry Gilliam's 1985 film, Brazil, defining the main character, Sam Lowry (voiced by Jonathan Price) as "archivist employed by the Ministry of Information" who often has dreamlike moments and imaging himself as a winged superhero. Lowry tries to tamper with data in order to save the woman he loves. This is before he realizes it is all a dream and is in a catatonic state. [4]

Boria notes memorable lines from the film, like the importance of documentary forms, the idea that archives are a "secondary department" where you can't make a career (not true), and claiming his talents are wasted in the archives. In other scenes, it is shown that each office in the ministry has "an alphanumeric code", while he acts like the perfect bureaucrat, He is shown escaping from the archives somehow after he feels trapped inside, even though he can only imagine this, as he can never actually escape, only doing so in a world of dreams. [5]

Following this, Boria describes the film, Blade (1998), noting it has a "blob archivist" who tries to "protect humanity from the invasion of vampires. This includes his murder of an archivist, Pearl, a carcass of a man employed in the Erebus Archived, located in a smelly basement. He goes on to describe Julia Child, who calls herself a "poor archivist" in the 2009 film, Julie & Julia, even though she was actually an insurance agent. This is part of the bad impression of archivists that he describes in the paper. [6]

© 2022 Burkely Hermann. All rights reserved.

Continued in part 2

Notes

[1] The publication was published in Bolgana, Italy by Filodiritto, 2022.  The latter included a link to this publication. The publication also had a preface by Micaela Procaccia, president of National Association of Italian Archives (ANAI).

[2] Doria, Gianna Penzo. Asterix, the Others, and the Archives: The Cinema perception of the archival profession (Bolgana, Italy: Filodiritto, 2022), 7; Procaccia, Micaela. "Preface" in Asterix, the Others, and the Archives: The Cinema perception of the archival profession (Bolgana, Italy: Filodiritto, 2022), 8-10. On page 9, Procaccia also urges archivist to make a big effort to "spread awareness of the central role of their work and their professional skills in society."

[3] Doria, "Asterix, the Others, and the Archives," 16. On pages 14-15, Doria says that Italian films like Le ragazze di Piazza di Spagna (1952), Il segno di (1955), Il compagno di don Camillo (1965), Indagine su un cittadino al di sopra di ogni sospetto (1970), La sconosciuta (2006), or Hollywood films like Being There (1979), Johnny Mnemonic (1995), The Net (1995), Murder at 1600 (1997), Being John Malkovich (1999), The Fellowship of the Ring (2001), Firewall (2006), Invasion (2007), and Soul (2020) aren't included although they "contain interesting scenes about the archival profession, and...important scenes related to archives and archivists". Page 15 also says that the paper leaves out "movies and TV series...often or periodically set in archives" which are generally "based on a captivating mix of police, espionage, science fiction and horror themes".

[4] Ibid, 30, 32.

[5] Ibid, 32-34.

[6] Ibid, 35-37.

[aki-o-mitovski-writer]

An awesome short sci-fi film!

Bobby, a middle-aged outdoorsman living on a lonely farm, looks after his young sheltered nephew for the weekend. Meanwhile, bears discover fire – causing a remarkable series of events for Bobby's family in this sci-fi dramedy set in rural America.

Based on the short story by Terry Bisson. '

[sluttyspiderkinnie]

I was lowkey waiting for Hazbin to come back before switching my blog over to be mainly Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel content but I’m afraid if I do that I’ll be mad at myself when the new Solar Opposites Valentine’s Day special comes out what do I doooooooo 😭😭😭

Any of my friends here that know me have known for years how important Angel Dust is to me as my #1 emotional support character who I see the most of myself in. I’ve already gotten a bunch of asks asking me what I think about the new Hazbin episodes. I’ll answer your asks and make a post of my own after I’ve watched the released Hazbin episodes a few more times. ❤️

I’m a pink obsessed gay now sober former addict and former sex worker that’s from Brooklyn and Italian American and just dealt with homelessness so anyone that wants to say I can’t claim him fucking choke lmao cause I’m Angel Dust in the damn flesh

[keyaho]

.summary.: what's a little conversation among friends? nami and terry have some Play Time.

Kinks (in order they appear): oral m receiving, facefucking, terry is a chatty dom, fingering, oral f receiving,  anal play (plug insertion), slight degradation, spanking, cum play, nami experiences sub space (cnc) Wordcount: 8k+ graphics: @firefly-graphics / @cafekitsune note: this is broken into two parts @zillasvilla watched me all weekend work on this and was like "Break it apart"

Terry had given Nami a week to reset. He would send her a text or call every now and then, but she hadn’t seen him in a week. She counted down the days until Friday and now that it was here she was anticipating so much. He had promised so much and all she had to do was behave. He was going to be spending the weekend at her place which mean it was a weekend of Play Time. A reward for getting through the long week of school, work, and her personal life. 

Nami had spent the whole weekend prepping her apartment for Terry. She switched her sheets to black so they looked like the ones in his guest room that she used. There were some light yellow accents. Water was stocked in the fridge along with enough snacks to get them through whatever he had planned. She didn’t want to have to leave the bedroom for anything. 

Currently, she was dashing around; sweeping, vacuuming, dusting, moping, and the apartment smelled like an apple orchid. The light fruity scent came from multiple candles. He was supposed to come at eight and they’d have breakfast and she’d hope to jump right into being jumped on. 

Satisfied with the cleaning she did, Nami dashed to her bedroom and turned on her shower. She had everything to do once she was in; shave, exfoliate, cleanse, moisturize! She wanted this weekend to go as smooth as she was trying to make her skin. She had coco butter and a light scented body oil waiting on the counter. 

Her thoughts drifted to Terry and their situation. Someone as perfect as Terry had to have some flaw about him and though she was enjoying herself, she had her guard up. Being here for his pleasure was all good and she was a willing participant, but her need for the closeness of a partner was rearing its ugly head. She wanted more of a connection that wasn’t just his hands on her body. She’d have to talk to him about it. 

Nami finished in the shower and patted herself dry. She lathered her body in lotion and oil, creating a sweet vanilla scent that would linger as the day passed. She removed the rollers from her hair, the blow-out keeping it’s shape and curls. She found it much easier to have her hair down. He could wrap it around his hand better and the feeling of his fist against the back of her head made her cunt quiver. Playtimes were meant to be fun and light, no real lesson or teaching moment. It was about her pleasure. But she wanted him to manhandle her, without it being tied to punishment. She loved the build up. 

Terry hadn’t told her what to wear, but she knew what to not put on. Reaching into her closet, she pulled out a pair of white soffee shorts and a yellow crop top. Just as she was coming out of her room, her doorbell went off. Nami slid over to the door and yanked it open. 

“Hi,’ she greeted while leaning against the door frame. 

Terry looked down at her and her outfit, humming in satisfaction, then pulled her to him as he stepped inside the apartment. He dropped his bag beside the door and kicked off his shoes while holding her still with his hands on her face and his lips on hers. He guided her towards her couch and made her sit. 

“It’s been a long week,’ he whispered, ‘Daddy just needs you to suck his dick first,’ he pushed down the waistband of his sweats and she watched his dick pop up and smack against his stomach. “Hands on your knees and keep them there.” 

He grabbed the back of her head and guided her mouth towards his leaking tip. 

“Relax.” He reminded her. 

Guiding his tip past her lips she relaxed her jaw and stuck out her tongue. Nami’s eyes clenched as he pushed further into her mouth. She breathed rapidly through her nose, managing to keep herself calm enough for him to slide down her throat. Her nose brushed his pelvis as he held her there. Her nails dug into her knees, leaving half crescent shapes.

“Good girl,’ he cooed, ‘I’ve been edging myself all week for you.” 

Terry pulled his hips back and pushed them forward, using her mouth to get off. 

“I’ve been thinking about you stuffed full of my dick.” 

Nami looked up at him as the tip of his dick poked down her throat. Drool slid over her chin and over the front of her top. His stance widened as he moved her head up and down faster. Her spit covered his balls and she wanted to reach out to grab them. 

“I’m going to hold myself off,’ he pulled her mouth off his dick and watched the spit and drool fall out of her mouth in a thick string connecting to his dick. “Suck the tip,’ he ordered. 

She leaned forward and wrapped her lips around the head of his dick, sucking as he asked. Her cheeks hollowed out each time and he hissed, stroking the rest of his length with a tight fist. 

“Head back,’ he grunted roughly, tugging on her curls, ‘mouth open.” 

She stuck her tongue out for good measure and Terry watched her brown eyes look up at him in anticipation. His hand twisted up and down his dick. Above her, Terry jacked off against her lips. She listened to him bite back his moans. She felt emboldened by her position in front of him. Her tongue darted out and lapped at his tip again, smearing his pre-cum like frosting on a cake. 

“That’s not being good,’ he gritted his teeth together and she giggled, repeating the action, much to his satisfaction. “Shit.” 

Yanking her head backward, Terry leered over her as he choked his dick with his hand. His cum flew out in thick ropes of cum, hot and sticky on her mouth and tongue. He tasted a little salty, but it seemed like he had just come from working out. The thought of sucking his dick right after a workout was a kink she didn’t realize she wanted to act out. Terry pushed his dick into her mouth and she sucked him clean, the mess on her face cooling as her head bobbed up and down. He pushed her back into the couch and admired his work of art on her face. 

Twenty minutes later, Nami was cleaned up and sitting at the kitchen island. Terry cooked breakfast; eggs, sausage, and grits. While eating he sat next to her with one of his hands between her legs. He wasn’t touching her pussy, yet, but his hand was close enough she could feel a little heat. 

“You know it’s Play Time but let me give you a few ground rules. You get to cum as much as you want to but there are still boundaries.” 

He grabbed her thigh. “No touching me or yourself unless you have permission.” 

“You already know how to address me.” he paused. “And you understand when that changes.” 

He told her it would be easy to tell who she was dealing with when they were together. Sir would have told her to drop to her knees at the door. He would have bent her over the arm of the couch and fucked her mouth. Daddy was nicer, sweeter, the man in front of her right now, and that she was excited about it. Then there was Terry. He told her it wasn’t a person she wanted to meet during any of their time together. He made himself sound like a caged animal locked away to keep the public safe. Terry was unforgiving. A disciplinarian to the highest degree. Sir was a cake walk compared to Terry, but Nami was never going to find that out. Her behavior would have to be egregious. 

“Daddy,’ she says, eyes on her plate as she shoves her fork into her eggs. 

“Let me know if it gets to be too much.” 

Terry turned in his chair and pulled her chair closer to him. The hand between her legs moved and she felt two of his fingers snake themselves into her pussy. He wiggled them deep and watched her head loll backwards. Her mouth parted and she struggled to keep still and let him touch her how he wanted to. 

Standing up, Terry moved behind her. He kept his hand between her legs, stroking her pussy with two fingers. His other hand snaked under her shirt, cupping her breast before tugging and pulling on her taut nipple. His lips found her neck, the three feelings overwhelming her body like a flood. 

“I want to make you feel good.” He moved to the other nipple, tugging cowards on it. “Does it feel good when I touch you like this?” 

His fingers stroked up to her clit, painting it in her slick before he plunged them back into her hole. His thumb pressed on her clit, pushing the throbbing bundle of nerves until she shook on the stool. 

“Talk to me Nami,’ he says, ‘tell me to play with your pussy.” 

The hand that was playing with her nipples wrapped around her throat. Leaning back against his chest, Terry held her still with his upper body while his fingers strummed her pussy like a guitar. 

“I like when you touch me like this,’ she panted. Her chest rose and fell in time with her beating heart. “Your fingers feel so good, Daddy.” 

“Do they?” He asked. Terry pulled them out and put them into her mouth.

She sucked slowly on his fingers as he pulled her from the stool. He walked her to the dining table and laid her across it. He pulled up a chair and pushed her legs to her chest as he sat down. Served up for his tasting, Terry did just that.

Terry excused himself to the bathroom. Nami cleaned up from breakfast, dumping the cold food and putting the coffee into the fridge to use later. She slipped on her shorts and wiped down the dining table. She brought out throw blankets and tossed them on the couch. She convinced him to watch a movie with her. As she spread out her favorite blanket there was a hard knock on her door. 

She wasn’t expecting anyone so when she opened the door and saw Mona and her dom standing there she was surprised. 

“What are you doing here,’ Nami asked.  

“I haven’t heard from you since we went out. Busy?” Mona’s tone was both cautious and blunt. She kept looking at her dom, who was standing by the foyer. He didn’t look happy at all. 

“School, you know it’s my last semester.” Nami replied. “Is everything okay?” 

Mona didn’t just stop by. At least not without calling ahead first. 

“Did he get tired of you yet?” Her Dom jokes. He leers at Nami, seeing exactly why Terry was hooked on her. 

“You know no one is going to want you in the community now? I mean, I told you what Terry did to submissives.” Mona says, ‘so, why did he leave? What stupid mistake did you make?” 

Nami shook her head. “No, no, no, he’s still my dominant.” 

The same dominant that was in her bathroom and probably listening to this very conversation. 

“He’s not here, so it doesn’t matter,’ her dom says annoyed. “Let me tell you something bitch,’ he growls, turning his sudden fury on Nami. “Don’t you ever get another man to try to tell me what to do. I ain’t some little bitch to fuck with.” 

Shirtless, Nami saw Terry step out of the room, a scowl on his face. It was very clear he heard everything that was said. 

“Mona, you brought him here to tell me that,’ Nami says as she takes a step backwards. 

“She does what I tell her and if you don’t get your dog to mind his business handling an overstepping submissive will be my business.” 

“A business you’re failing.” Terry said. 

Four sets of eyes turned to him in shock. Mona’s eyes raked over Terry’s bare chest and the way his sweats hung low on his hips. Terry couldn’t remember their names and didn’t care either, but he wasn’t going to let them speak to Nami like that. 

“You brought your dominant to your friend’s place,’ Terry says as he assesses the situation before him. “You brought another man to the house of your friend, who is a woman. To be yelled at and threatened.” 

“We-’

”I just want to get the story straight.” 

He walked over to Mona, the same way her dominant had walked up on Nami. Except, Mona was enjoying the attention. He could see it in her eyes; this is what she wanted. Her tight lip expression might fool the other man in the room, but he knew all he had to do was speak and Mona would drop to her knees. 

“Tell her you’re jealous,’ Terry says. “Tell Nami, you’re jealous of her.” 

“I’m not…no! Nami, I’m not-’

In a sweet voice, Terry folded his arms over his chest. “Tell. Her.” He looked at Nami and motioned her to move towards him. Just within reach, he had her stop. “I like submissives who listen. Your defiance is a turn off. That’s why I’ve never looked your way. I love me a brat,’ he says, looking at Nami with a smirk, ‘but you are a petulant brat. The worst kind.” 

Mona’s mouth dropped open and her eyes darted between the two men in the room. Only one of them had control and she looked over her shoulder at Nami. Terry snapped his fingers in her face. 

“Look at me when you say it,’ he says, ‘and mean it. Or you’ll stand here and say it until I tell you to stop.” 

Her chance with Terry was long gone at this point. She knew that the moment he pulled her from the bar in the club. 

“I’m jealous of Nami.” 

“Why?” Terry asked. “Tell her why you’re jealous.” 

Mona looked at her dominant and Terry laughed. 

“I don’t know why you’re looking at him. He’s a switch at best, he’s not going to do anything for you.” 

Nami’s Play Time was being interrupted and he could see was getting frustrated with the situation. As much as he wanted to draw this out, and he should, he didn’t want to completely ruin Nami’s day. He had a lot planned for her. 

Terry stared at Mona causing her to fidget and eventually look up at him. 

“I’m jealous of Nami because you picked her to be your submissive.” Terry leaned in, his voice low. He only wanted Mona to hear what he was about to tell her.

“I should make you tell her exactly how you really feel about her.” 

Nami could sense that when they were getting dressed for the party. Her line of questioning had made her feel undesirable and to know Terry picked up on it as well didn’t make her feel as crazy as she thought she was. 

“You’re lucky Nami is here.” Terry turned to the other man in the room and approached him. “Handling an overstepping submissive? I know you weren’t talking about Nami.” 

“Nah,” he says, ‘Mona wanted to come see her friend.”

“I don’t want to do this right now.” Nami says. “Leave please.” 

“You heard her,’ Terry says, though his eyes dare the man in front of her to move. 

Mona turned around and gave Nami an apologetic look. “Call him off,’ she says, gesturing towards the stand off between the men. 

Nami’s euphoric state of bliss was being compromised. This disruption was toying with her Play Time and she didn’t want Terry to be too annoyed to play with her. Nami felt hot in the face but it wasn’t from anger. She was getting upset and frustrated. Terry stood there, stoic and squared off, his stance defensive. 

“Nami please,’ Mona says. 

“Why should she do anything for you?” Terry taunted. He says, turning his head to glance at Mona and Nami behind him. 

“The way you called me about her, you don’t get to speak to Mona that way.” 

“Oh, wheres the bass you had with my girl,’ Terry grinned, ‘all that bravado is gone now that I’m in the room huh.” 

“No one is scared of you,’ he replied, brows knitting together as his jaw tensed. 

“I don’t want you to be,’ Terry replied. “I want you to be uncomfortable. I want you to not be weak. Defend your submissive,’ he taunted, ‘you don’t want me to talk to her?” He whispered. “Tell me.” 

The tension in the room was high. Nami took a step towards Terry, hoping to diffuse the situation and get them out. 

“Just go, Mona,’ Nami says. 

Walking towards her bedroom she put space between her and the chaos swirling around her kitchen. She sat on the edge of her bed, legs folded as she dropped her head into her hands. Her friendship with Mona had been great. She never once did she think Mona had ill feelings towards her. Hearing her be jealous, and mean, over her relationship with Terry was hard. She wanted to share all her experiences with Terry with her. Finally diving into BDSM led to the break down of a friendship, if it ever was there. 

“Hey,’ Nami looked up, face wet. 

“Yes, Sir?” She says. 

“Lie back.” 

She did as she was told and they both moved on from what happened in the kitchen. She didn’t want to talk about it anyway and further mess up her morning. Terry moved to stand by the head of her bed. Her cuffs were slung over his shoulder and something silver was resting in his palm.  

“Shorts off, bend your legs and keep them open for me.” 

Nami did as told and also removed her top, Terry laughed at her haste and kissed her forehead. He cuffed her hands before kissing them. 

“Keep them up,’ he says. 

Crawling into the bed, Terry kissed his way up her leg, sucking the soft skin into his mouth as he watched her chest rise and fall. She anticipated things and her body responded to it. She knew his mouth was about to touch her pussy, so she anticipated it. Her body warmed and she started to leak slick from her lower lips. His warm breath heightened that feeling and she almost kicked him in the face when his lips landed on her knee. 

“Relax,’ he says, ‘you will need to relax for what I’m about to do.” 

He took her clit in his mouth, sucking slowly, while his fingers stroked around her wet hole. Terry pushed them in slowly, curling his fingers upwards as his tongue flattened against her clit. She was lost in the sensation of his mouth and fingers that when something cold, wet, and hard pressed against her asshole, she jumped. Terry pulled away from her pussy, licking his lips as he eyed the messed between her legs. 

“Sir?” 

“It’s a plug.” 

“A plug? For what?” 

“I think you know what it’s for. You asked for it.” 

Nami breathed out and Terry’s head went back down between her legs. She focused on the way he devoured her pussy, licked and sucked until she was trembling again. She felt his hands moved, but not the anal plug. Instead, Terry licked his way down from her pussy to her ass then back up. 

His devotion to eating pussy was unmatched and she never had a guy who enjoyed it for his personal pleasure and not just hers. He was doing it because he wanted to and it was for his own desires. There was a pool of her slickness on the bed between her legs, around his mouth, and coating the inside of her thighs. She got so messy.

As Nami began to wiggle and squirm to keep from riding his face, Terry used one hand to spread her left ass cheek. The anal plug rubbed against her puckered hole while his tongue licked back into her weeping sex. Both his tongue and the plug surged froward at the same time. 

“Oh fuck,’ she cursed. 

Terry smacked her outer thigh. “Watch that mouth.” 

He pushed it to the hilt, making sure it was snug. The stretch was different and it made her clit throb. She clenched around it, only pulling it further in before it would relax as she unclenched. She felt full. The bulbous head of the plug stretched her deliciously. 

“Oh that’s pretty.” 

Netflix was on but Nami wasn’t sure what was playing any more. She straddled Terry’s lap, his hands on her thighs, smoothing around to her ass while another scratched up her naked back. The only thing she wore was the anal plug, firmly nestled in her ass, and her cuffs. The yellow material really looked like bracelets when they weren’t hooked together and to the bed. She held her own arms behind her back as they kissed. Her hips and his doing a motion against each other. She’d rocked side to side and he would jerk his hips up and down. The friction of his dick pressing against her led to more anticipation of what was to come. 

Naked, Nami was exposed to him. Her body on display as she pulled away from his mouth to breathe. 

“Let’s go to bed,’ he says, ‘I’m ready to fuck you.” 

It was noon, the sun w as high in the sky as Terry tossed Nami on the bed. She bounced and moved towards the pillows, her hands in front of her. Terry dropped his sweats. She had seen his dick numerous times but there was something about this time that was different. She watched as he touched himself, his hand stroking upwards towards his tip when he grimaced from the touch. Sensitive, she logged that for later. He always ended their night in her mouth and if she got the chance she’d make sure to play with the sensitive tip. 

He had another bottle in his hands before he squeezed a clear gel into his palm. 

“Fucking your throat is one thing,’ he says, dropping a knee to the bed as he palmed his dick again. “Fucking you is another and I want to make sure I slide right in.”

This had been the moment Nami was waiting for. She knew he was going to fuck her, but, she wasn’t prepared for just how good he was going to fuck her. 

“Sir, I don't,’ she whined, her body so intensified with emotions of pain and pleasure she could barely form words. She didn’t know if she wanted Terry to stop fucking her or keep going, but the inbetween felt too good to care. Her legs had long fallen to the bed, open and pliant in his hands. His hips snapped between hers slamming his balls against her ass as his dick finally split her open. As he finally fucked her like the dominant he was, uncaring, crazed, feral. Using her pussy in ways that made her more gushy than a Gusher candy. 

“Mhn,’ he called, “Tell me what you need, baby.” 

“Ah!,’ she keened. 

His hips snapped upwards, then rutted against her, applying pressure to her clit. 

“Talk to me so I know you’re okay. Tell Daddy what’s wrong,’ he cooed, bending over to kiss her drooling lips. He looked into her eyes, watching as she forced them straight but couldn’t help but cross them when he hit that spongy spot deep in her cunt. 

“You’re so sweet for letting Daddy fuck you like this,’ he praised, ‘letting him use you while you can barely think straight. Shit feel good, hm?” He looked down where their bodies were joined. The mess between her legs was hypnotizing. She was so wet and creaming so much. “Giving Daddy such good pussy tonight.” 

“I’m good,’ she repeated, as if she was asking him a question, not believing she was. 

“Yes,’ he hissed, licking a long swipe up her neck before sucking a red spot into the side of it. Nami arched her chest into his, find some strength to wrap her legs around his waist, crying out at the way he began to wine his hips. “You gonna let Daddy play in his pussy, right?”

Her hands were tied above her head this time and she pulled on her restraints as she felt his fingers slid into her mouth for her to suck on.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ she hummed over and over. “Play in my sweet pussy Daddy,’ she mumbled, the words coming out between her moans.

“I know you are,’ he hummed a familiar beat, ‘gimmie that sweet,’ he flexed, his dick jumped, she cried out, ‘that nasty,’ he leaned down, going from two feet to one foot on the bed beside her open hips, ‘that gushy stuff.” 

The sounds she made were wet and sticky; sloshing almost and it just kept spilling out of her this way. The position sent him deeper, stuffing her nice and full with all nine and a half inches. 

Her lower body wiggled, trying to fight the pressure building as he stilled his body. Terry used her mouth like a toy, sucking her tongue into his, biting her lips, drawing a little of pain from the pleasure she was feeling between her legs. The stretch burned, but fuck, he made it feel so good. He hoisted her legs up so they fell over his arms. Fully seated in her pussy, he rubbed against her. 

“You look so good taking my dick,’ he praises.

Nami ached to touch him. It was the one thing she had been working to earn since their first night, but he always bound her hands away from him. Avoided her finger like the plague. He knew her body so intimately her pussy clenched around his dick at the thought. Terry’s hands dropped to her waist in a bruising hold. 

“That’s it, cum on my dick,’ he said, finally finding a rhythm she could rock her hips to. 

Nami squirmed beneath him as he he fucked her into the bed. She was already running like a faucet, but when Terry pushed her legs towards her her head she gushed, a cord snapping as she came, squirting on him as he chased his high. Fuck he was so big. She thought, trying to catch her breath as her body tensed and jerked beneath him. 

The wet sound of their skin slapping as Terry dug her out as he chased his high. His ball clenched tight as he held her throat and hip to keep her still. Him wearing his pussy out was the only thing on his mind, making her so tired she purred for his mouth to make it feel better. Terry could see how fucked out she was, her body coming down from her orgasm. He dropped his weight to her body, pushing them both up the bed and rutting against her as he placed her legs on his shoulders and leaned down. Still deep in that shit, Terry made sure she could feel him, poking that g-spot over and over. All she could do is scream out for him, cry, and beg him to not stop, and that he felt so good. Her sweet voice was slurred, each work leaving her lips like she was drunk off his dick. 

Nami felt like she was in a tunnel. Terry’s voice was muffled to her, the intense feeling her body was experiencing had filled her head with so much pleasure she couldn’t think straight. It hurt to think about anything other than how he was making her body feel. 

“Why you fucking me like this, ma’ he asks, hissing from how tight her pussy gripped him. “Why you sucking me in so deep, baby.” 

Nami cried, too overwhelmed to respond with anything else. Her body, down to her tippy toes, was numb. She was barely holding onto reality. 

“Ain’t no other nigga gon’ fuck you like this.” 

She heard him speaking but it was more to himself, stroking his big ass ego the way his big ass dick was stroking her tight walls. 

Terry looked at her, tears running from her eyes, her body shaking as she took his hard thrusts. He turned his head, kissing her both of her ankles he swiveled his hips side to side and she quivered. 

“You want to nut again don’t you.” He grit his teeth together, the squishy sounds permeating the air the same way the smell of their sex did. “Hold that shit in,’ he snapped, ‘let me play in my pussy a lil’ longer.” 

He could feel her about to cum and knew she wasn’t going to be able to hold it in. Her body had betrayed her twice already and those orgasms damn near made him bust. Terry yanked his dick out and dropped her legs to the bed. Nami whimpered and tried to reach for him, forgetting her hands were tied to the bed post. Splayed out, Terry bent down between her legs, his tongue replacing his dick. He slurped her clit into his mouth, flattened his tongue and dragged it up and down, coating his face in her slick.

“Oh Daddy,’ she drawled out. She planted one foot on the bed and arched towards his mouth. 

His hand slapped against her ass, twice. “Pretty ass pussy,’ he mumbled, fisting his dick to stroke as he lapped at her drenched lips. “Why you so fucking wet hm? I can drown in this shit.” Terry released her clit with a soft popping sound and grabbed her legs again. His thrust back in jerked her upwards on the bed. He bottomed out and watched her grab the rope of her restraints. 

“Tell me what you need,’ he said, slowing his thrusts so enjoy the way she sighed in content. He had abused this pussy for at least an hour, taking what he needed from her. 

“Let me touch you,’ she whined, ‘please.” 

Touch. Fuck. He knew the moment her hands touched him he would lose it. He always did. There was something about his girl, his sub, clinging to him for dear life, raking nails down his back like he knew she wanted to do. 

“Please, please, please…’ she begged, a fresh set of tears springing from her eyes as she cried. His pace quickened. 

She never asked before and he could see the longing in her eyes when they were together or in a scene. Touch was his kink. The closeness drove him crazy. Whether it was on his shoulder or back, his dick was bricked, painfully so. 

He shook the thought away and continued to fuck her into the bed. Her pussy gripped his dick right and he groaned. 

“Daddy just had to give this pussy something to do.” He grunted. He saw Nani’s arms and body slowly begin to relax. “That’s it,’ he coached.

Nami began to cry. The sensation she was feeling was out of body. She felt so high and weightless but at the same time grounded and heavy from his thrusts. She didn’t cry from pain but the pleasure just needed another way out. She unclenched her fists as he rocked his hips into hers. His dick curved slightly to the left and stretched her just as good. Terry’s dick was big. 

“It’s okay baby,’ he cooed. 

Nami whines and whimpered. Her thigh began to shake from her resolve snapping. She felt too exposed. The room light suddenly blinded her as he took off the scarf. Blurry she blinked out her tears as she turned her head to the side and went to bite down on her arm when Terry grabbed her face. 

“Just feel it,’ he slowed his strokes and grinned as she sobbed. His tongue darted out and he licked her tears before sucking her lips into a kiss. 

“Let Daddy take care of you, hm?” He wrapped his hand around her throat and held her to the bed. He looked into her eyes. They were glossy and she had a dazed expression on her face though she was fighting it. 

“But….Daddy,’ she protested, her hips trying to get his to move again. 

“Be a good girl,’ he says as he thrusts once more.

He resumed fucking Nami, filling her inch by inch with his dick. He held her hips and gave her slow but forceful thrusts. Her pussy choked his dick.

“Shit I’m going to fuck this pussy open.” He popped Nami on the thighs and she looked at him with doey brown eyes. “You're sitting on this dick all weekend.” 

“Oh!” She whimpered, her pussy making wet sounds as his words make her gush a little. 

Terry noticed and smirked. “You like when I talk to you like that, hm?” 

He leans over her, his forehead pressing against hers as he watches his dick slide in an out of her cunt. There was a mess between their legs. A sticky, slippery, wet, mess. He sunk himself deep each thrust, caging her body between him and the bed so she didn’t slide across the sheets. Terry rubbed his hands down her thigh and then hooked it behind her knee before pushing it to the bed. 

“Open up,’ he growled, eyes rolling backwards as she clenched around him. “Fuck, open that pussy up.” 

Nami tugged on her restraints until they shook the headboard. Her body was slipping from her control and all she could do was let it happen. He had a tight grip on her leg, holding her still as he pummeled her into the mattress. The sheets were askew and pillows were somewhere on the floor. His sweat dripped onto her body, the cold droplets adding to the sensations her body was experiencing. Her clit throbbed for release, but it went ignored, and pulsed. Her toes were curling and her back was arching up off the bed, seeking out more contact from her dominate. 

“I got you baby,’ he groaned. His own body shuddered. “Let me fuck this pussy like it deserves to be.” 

Nami made the mistake of looking at Terry. He was staring right at her. His eyes had darkened. His brows were knitted together and when his tongue darted out to lick his thick lips, Nami whined. She could feel his hands on her body; slapping her thigh, 

“Soggy ass pussy,’ he spoke, his thumb reached between their bodies and rubbed her neglected clit. “I wish you could see how sloppy this shit looks,’ he laughed. “Fuck, Nami.” 

Terry was stroking something deep inside of her. He reached places no one had prior. He fucked her towards another orgasm, but this one felt uncontrolled. She scrunched her nose, thumbs pressing into the link on her cuffs, and he hips fell back to the bed. New sounds of pleasure fell from her lips. High pitched squeals as he snapped his hips over and over between her legs. Stuffing her with his fat dick to the point she could feel the recoil in her thighs.  Speaking of, her thighs fell to the bed, fully opening herself to Terry and his hands. 

“That’s it baby,’ he praised, ‘give Daddy his pussy.” 

He used his hands to rub her sides, massaging her into relaxing. She stopped tugging on her cuffs and her arms slackened. Nami’s breath shuddered with each thrust between her legs, her pussy was stuffed full and she felt like she was feeling him in her stomach. The depths he reached mad her lift her hips for more. 

“Be Daddy’s little doll,’ he whispered.

“Doll?” Her voice trembled and her bottom lip quivered. “I…..doll?” 

She could barely form words, eyes crossed now that he could finally see them. As tight as her pussy was around his dick, that wasn’t the only thing turning him on. Her lack of speech made his ego puff up just a little. He warned her of his plans to fuck her and now that he was inside of her he didn’t want to leave. He enjoyed the other physical and mental effects of sex just as much as the actual act of sex. 

“Yeah,’ he replied, his voice even as he stroked himself with her cunt. 

Each slide back in Nami could feel the thick tip of his dick slide against her spot. Every. Time. he hit it directly and she saw stars. Her vision became a little spotty from the overwhelming pleasure he was giving her. 

“My little ragdoll.” 

Terry’s hands moved up her chest, tugging down on her nipples after rolling them between his fingers. He admired the bruises on her hips from his hands. The dark spots a reminded for her long after he was done. Respectfully he was going to make sure she had as many orgasms as he body could give. Disrespectfully? He was going to dig her pussy out and dick her down. He just needed her to-

“Daddy,’ she weeped, ‘I feel-’

“Let go for me,’ he coaches, kissing her quickly to ground her for a moment. Aware of her body, Terry wrapped a hand around her throat and applied just enough pressure she could focus on him. “Let it happen okay?” He says. “You’re slipping into sub space.” He noted, more to himself than her. “Let me take you there, Nami.” 

His voice sounded like whispers to her. She hadn’t realized her eyes were closed until she opened them and he was watching her face. His expression was soft and a stark contrast to the roughness of his dick fucking her. She couldn’t hear her moans any more and her body started to float. Her thighs rose on their own, needing a little friction but it was pushed back to the bed. 

A fucking faucet.

Dripping so fucking much.

Wet. Ass. Pussy! 

His stamina was insane and Nami’s body was his outlet. That same body betrayed her. She felt like she was in a dream state. In a trance. She thought she was tugging on her restraints, but Terry had already unhooked it and her arms were laying above her head. She knew to keep them there but with the euphoric feeling course through her body she had no strength to move them anyway. 

She felt like mush in hands. Pliant, Terry grabbed her neck again. 

“Feels good,’ he asked. He knew getting her to talk in this state would be hard, he could see the pleasure in her eyes with how slack her mouth was. 

Nami’s mouth dropped open and a trail of drool followed. She could see Terry but wasn’t really seeing him. She could feel him deep and each thrust drove her to the brink. 

“Good,’ she choked out, ‘so big,’ she cried. 

“I know baby,’ he hissed. 

“Give it up, Nami.” He pushed her into the bed with a hand around her neck. “Submit, to Daddy.” 

She couldn’t reach to hold him and the grip on the sheets wasn’t enough to keep Nami from jerking upwards as her climax sacked into her body. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as the arch in her back brought her body upwards so suddenly she gasped; unable to speak anything other than Daddy. She was a river of slick and emotions, her body levitating and grounded at the same time. The feeling was out of body and it was like she was watching herself get fucked. Terry pulled out long enough to roll her to her hands and knees. There was no hesitation as he slid right back into her velvety walls. He held her hips still as he pounded into her from behind. She could feel his balls slapping against her clit with each thrust and as her arms stretched above her head she wanted to reach back and cup his sack in her hands, feel how heavy he was, and stroke him that way towards pleasure. 

“Push back on it,’ he ordered, grabbing a hand full of her hair to yank her head back. “Show me you want it, doll.” 

Mindlessly, Nami pushed her hips back, letting his dick stretch her in the new position. Terry’s breathing began to change. His breaths were shorter, staggered, and he was trying to control them, but couldn’t. He snatched out of her cunt and pulled her to her feet. Weak, Nami fell into him and he popped her on the thighs. 

Terry spun her around and forced her to bend over at the waist. At the perfect height, Nami touched her toes then wrapped her hands around her ankles. His feet kicked her legs apart right before he lined his dick up and slid back in. He moved her back and forth. There was a lack of balance but her trust in his strength to hold her up, kept her from worrying. She could feel her slick sliding down her legs. 

“Fuck,’ Terry shouted. He moved her to the bed and laid her on her stomach at the edge. His hips slammed into her ass, his dick searching for that gummy spot that made her squirt earlier.  

His eyes dropped to the anal plug he fitted into her earlier. He reached down and tapped it, causing it to move up and down. Nami’s hand swung back the new sensation jolting her body forward. Terry grabbed her wrist and folded her arm across her back. 

“You want me in there,’ he taunted, using his other hand to twist the plug. “You want me to fuck this ass too huh?” He kissed between her shoulder blades as his hand pulled the plug halfway out and pushed it back in. “Yeah, you are,’ he cooed. “You’re going to give Daddy all your holes mmhm,’ he joked, smacking her ass as he fucked her. 

This was his show. Terry felt on top, on cloud nine, and euphoric. The high seeping into his body was making him a bit feral. His grip on Nami tightened, his sack seizing up as Nami soaked his dick again. He was on the precipice of an orgasm when his eyes clenched shut. He bit down on his lip, nearly drawing blood, as he thrust became shallow and staggered. His rhythm was thrown off as Nami turned her head after lifting up on her arms to glance back at him. Her eyes were closed in pleasure and her mouth was swollen and parted. She looked fucked out while in sub space. She made soft cooing sounds instead of moans, egging him on. 

“Fuck,’ he cursed, realized it was his favorite of the night, ‘it’s coming, shit I’m gonna cum.” He wasn’t wearing a condom and he hadn’t discussed with Nami where he should shoot his load. He wanted to fill her with it and watch it ooze out. So he was going to.

“Daddy’s gonna nut in this pussy,’ he pulled her backwards, grunting as ropes of hot cum painted her cervix and slippery walls. 

Terry held her still white he emptied his sack, smacking her ass in time to the spurts leaving his tip. Stilling, he let her spasm around his dick, squeezing him deeper as she shook. Terry brought her hips up and pushed her shoulders into the bed. Inch by inch, Terry pulled out. When his tip was left he pushed back in once and Nami’s pussy gushed. Over sensitive, she was spent. Her pussy was spent. Clarity was setting and she inhaled suddenly, dropping to the bed as Terry pulled all the way out. He rolled her over and leaned over her. His lips slanted over hers and she sighed into his mouth. 

“You did so good.” He praises her with kisses. Soft and sweet while her soul found its way back into her body. “See what being good for me gets you?” He reached between her legs and plunged two fingers into her pussy, churning them around while using his load as lubricant. “I told you I was going to teach this pussy what to do.” 

He added his thumb and stroked her clit. He was playing with her now, toying with her over sensitive body. He was slowly bringing her down from that intense pleasure. Safely guiding her down so she didn’t hit the sub drop too hard. 

“Talk to me, beautiful,’ he whispers. “What do you need from me?” 

Nami licked her dry lips, panting as she tried to catch her breath. Speaking felt difficult and she cried suddenly from not being able to form words. She felt good. Everything about what she just experienced was perfect. She just couldn’t form the words to tell him that. Terry pulled his fingers out and smacked her pussy a few times. 

“Water,’ she croaked, finding her voice amid her moaning, ‘please.”

Terry kissed her cheek. “There’s my girl,’ he noted, seeing the clarity returning in her eyes. She was looking at him now, not through him earlier. Fully present in her body, she tried to sit up. Terry pushed her gently back to the bed and helped her crawl towards the top. He grabbed the pillows from the floor and made a cocoon for her to curl up in. His cum leaked out her hole, smeared across her thigh as she moved. Wiping a hand down his face, he shook his head. He snatched up his sweats and strode towards her bathroom. 

He ran her bath first and then slipped into her kitchen. He left the door open so the AC could kick on and cool the room. He grabbed a few waters and some fruit for her to snack on. Coming to the side of the bed, he opened one of the water bottles and pulled Nami to sit up. The cold water cools Nami as soon as it hit her tongue. Terry pulled the bottle away as she choked. 

“Slow,’ he murmured. “Take it easy.” 

She ate strawberries from his hands in between kisses. 

“You were well worth the wait,’ he pulls her face in with a hand on her chin. “How do you feel?” 

“Overwhelmed,’ she sighed, the word falling out of her lips blissfully. Though the haze of pleasure was gone, she was still feel the effects of submitting to Terry. High on his attention, she leaned into him, seeking out his mouth for another kiss. 

Terry entertained her, pulling her to his lap, but keeping her hands in one of his behind her back. Nami wiggled against his hand. 

“Let me touch you, Sir,’ she begged, her lips going from his jaw, to behind his ear, then his neck. She worked her hips against his bulge, aftercare becoming a fleeting thought as Nami worked herself back up. 

“How about you go get in the bath? Let me clean you up and order lunch.” 

Terry stood up, Nami in his arms as he carried her to the bathroom. He supported her with one hand, the other keeping her wrists locked. Placing her on her feet, he brought her hands above her head and helped her into the bath. Nami grimaced as a cool sticky substance rolled down her leg. 

“You’re still leaking out of me,’ she lowered herself into the tub. 

“As I should be.” He kissed the top of her head and opened the cabinet under the sink. She had multiple scents and soaps and he settled on a lavender body wash and pine scented lotion. 

Terry bathed her and carried her back to her bed. He remade it while she soaked in the warm water. Drying her off, he motioned for her to lie down. Back against the pillows he knelt on the bed at her feet and began working lotion into her skin. His thumbs pressed into the arches of her foot, drawing out soft groans. Her calves were next, and Terry took his time there, sucking on her toes. He massaged her body, sucking on her skin in random places. He tugged on a shirt and she noticed it wasn’t yellow, but the black one he came over in. 

Yanking back the sheets, he tucked Nami into them. The bedside lamp turning off as he pulled the little string. 

“I’m not tired,’ she yawned, stretching her limbs. 

“Nap. I’ll have lunch when you wake up.” 

She didn’t remember falling asleep or hear when her bedroom door opened up. Now, something was pulling her awake. Terry, kneeling beside the bed, had pulled her to the edge of it and opened her legs, exposing her sore cunt to his greedy mouth. Each swipe of his tongue wetted his lips. His tongue flicked across her clit before it slipped into her hole, fucking her how his dick had earlier. 

“I got a little hungry,’ he admitted. “I knew this pussy would still be swollen so I came to kiss it better.” 

Nami raised up on her arms to watch his tongue work between her legs. He kept her legs open with his heavy hands. His tongue split her lips apart so he could suck her clit into his mouth. Terry tongued her pussy until she was rocking her hips against his face. The anal plug bumped against his chin and he pulled back to glance at it. 

Pulling away from her, Terry stood up and pulled Nami to her feet. She was able to walk now and followed behind him to the kitchen. Next to the glass of water was another bowl of fruit and a plate of salmon and rice. 

“Do you remember submitting to me?” He asked after a few minutes of silence. 

“A little. It was a lot going on,’ she admitted, ‘it just felt good. My body just gave out.” She chewed on the end of her fork. “Being used like that felt really good.” 

“It’s called sub space. Where your body just feels intensely good yes and you can't put it into words?” 

Nami nodded. 

“Being able to fuck you senseless like that,’ he whistled. “Nami, I’m ready to be back in that pussy. Finish eating so we can play again.” 

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Part two on 11.24.24

I apologize for the errors. As I re-read I will clean it up. I've been staring at this part for two weeks.