A Bull's Diary

I asked if he believed it now. He kept up the act, shaking his head defiantly. He wanted more as well.

I told Grace to stand, bend forwards and rest her hands on top of the cage. Her fingers naturally slipped through the bars and he went to try to touch her. I told him "no" and he obeyed.

Her hips and ass in the air looked perfect from this angle, that hourglass figure looking so inviting. I pushed into her from behind without hesitation, feeling as if home again, still as tight as she'd been all day. I fucked her harder and rougher this time, spanking her and leaving light hand marks on her. To get deeper I hooked my right foot round her knee and kicked her legs apart.

As we fucked I took her arms and pulled her hands behind her, holding them together with my right hand so her face and tits were against the bars on top, strands of her hair falling through. "Don't touch," I ordered the cuck, although he wouldn't have dared.

Grace changed tack; "fuck yes daddy, harder." As commanded, I started to swing my hips harder, filling the room with the slapping of skin on skin, knocking her into the cage, making it shake. I deliberately fucked with no finesse, just all the power I could manage, but with my right thumb I stroked the palm of Grace's hand, and in turn she gripped it tight as if to confirm silently that she was OK.

"She's so tight, boy," I taunted him. "She's mine now." He responded with a baleful howl through his gag, his chastity cage dripping with precum.

I leant forward to Grace. "You ready baby?" I whispered into her ear, finding myself out of breath. She leant back and flung her arms up over my head, turning to kiss me loudly, smashing her lips on mine.

The two of us backed up together onto the bed, her on top. She swung her legs up into the air and I caught them, wrapping my elbows round them and bracing my hands at the back of her head, pushing it forward to look down her body at my cock, still in her.

I carried on fucking, now with Grace's head in front of mine in a full Nelson position. We'd talked about this in the week and Grace was confident she was more than flexible enough. To help us along she strummed her pussy and after a few more minutes I stood up, carrying her in front of the cage, still fucking.

I could see over her shoulder the cuck had moved so his face was now up against the bars. Grace was getting close and so was I. Despite her being fairly light, this position wasn't an easy one to maintain, and I was glad when she tightened.

"Squirt for me baby," I said into her ear, loud enough for the cuck to hear. She turned to me and looked into my eyes, I smiled and nodded and she grinned back.

Grace came first. It was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen, looking down over her shoulder I could feel her cumming like she had before, but this time she squirted all over the cage. I moved closer and pointed her at it like a water pistol, keen not to waste it.

I could feel it dripping down my legs as I kept thrusting. Unlike earlier, this was no little squirt, and I could see and feel her stomach muscles tensing as she pushed.

As usual, I wasn't far behind, the sight of her orgasming like that pushing me over the edge. As I came I lifted Grace slightly to allow me to fall out of her and my load glugged over the cage too. I won't claim I soaked the cuck anything like Grace had, considering this was my fourth of the day, I think I managed a decent spout.

The first pump hit the cuck's forehead and cheek just above the strap of the ball gag, and the second his chest.

Grace raised her arms and hooked them back over my shoulders so I could drop her legs to the floor. She dragged me down by my chain with her in front of the cage on the cold wood floor, partly in the puddle we'd just created, and kissed me deeply. I sucked her tongue and bit her lip as the cuck watched, inches away.

Break

Grace pushed me off her playfully, breaking the kiss. "I need a drink baby, you want one?" she asked, hoarse from the throat fucking.

"Yes please," I said. She used my shoulder to lift herself up and I watched her hips swinging as she went round to the kitchenette.

I hoisted myself up to sit on the foot of the bed, still panting. I glanced up at the cuck, drenched in sweat and squirt and cum, staring dopily back at me with his pink ball gag in, struggling to catch breath himself through his snotty nose.

"Alright?" I asked, finding myself warming to the guy for some reason. He nodded. I reached out and knocked open the latch on the cage with my toe and told him to clean the room and then himself. He clambered out and gestured to the gag.

"OK", I said. He'd earned a break too. He struggled for a second to unbuckle it behind his head and looked at me with a pleading expression. I undid it for him.

"Thank you sir", he said, rubbing his jaw, then scurried off to clean.

I sat back and looked down at my cum-soaked body, unable to tell which fluids were mine and which were Grace's. For virtually the first time since dinner three or four beers ago I realised I'd got down to a soft semi, so I took the opportunity to have a piss.

I did so, and on my way out passed the cuck in the passage waiting to use the bathroom to get cleaned up, nearly slipped on the mopped floor, and met Grace at the bed. She'd brought back a beer for me and half a glass of prosecco for herself (presumably the rest of the bottle), and was scrolling through Instagram.

I sat beside her and flopped back onto the big pile of pillows, resting my beer on my chest with my left hand and outstretching my right arm across the pillows behind Grace. She intuitively lay back, resting her head on my arm, and rolled into me to rest her glass on my chest, hooking her right knee over mine.

I stroked Grace's lower back with my fingertips and asked if she was having fun. She was. We talked and flirted for a few minutes while we finished our drinks.

The cuck reappeared, looking refreshed. Grace instructed him to sit at the dining table and wait, which he did, his silly chastity cage clinking on the wooden seat like some weird cowbell. He'd picked the chair farthest away from the ball gag that I'd left on the table when I took it off and cannily avoided going anywhere near the cage. Crafty bastard.

I asked Grace if she was tired - as if to challenge her - and she said no, not yet. Was I?

"I could go again."

"Babe..." she started. "I want to do the thing."

"The thing?" I asked. I knew what she meant. I wanted to hear her say it.

She rolled her eyes - she knew what I was doing. "I want to dom."

Domination

We'd talked about it during the week. This was as much my fantasy as hers, and I think Grace's growing assertiveness as the evening passed had partly been to persuade herself (and maybe me?) that she could do it.

First, we dealt with the cuck. I thought about putting him back in the cage, but it was damp in there. Instead, Grace retrieved the pack of cable ties (another purchase of ours) and, chaining two together for each leg, secured him to the dining chair legs. I pulled his hands behind the back of the seat and she very adeptly tied them together too.

Lastly, and I sensed against his wishes, the ball gag was reapplied. I ruffled his slightly greasy hair.

Next was me. The bed didn't have posts on each corner so that wasn't an option, but to be honest the bondage fetish is the cuck's; Grace and I could take it or leave it and I'd sub for her whether bound or not. Grace did want to make sure my hips were restrained, so I'd brought a ratchet strap with a 10m orange belt.

I threw the strap under the bed from one side to the other and then lay down, face up in the middle. I looped the strap through the ratchet and tightened it around my hips, then moved it so it was out of the way. Grace moved it round to the side of the mattress out of my reach and, without hesitating, cranked it a few more times (more than I expected) so I was pinned, it was pushing me down into the mattress. She gave the strap a playful strum and it vibrated like a guitar string; it was painfully taut.

I looked down and tried thrusting - nothing - although I did notice I was back hard again. I love seeing a capable woman.

Grace looked around for a second, then went to the wardrobe. She pulled out her black scarf and as she walked to me I drank in one more sight of her and lifted my head, allowing her to tie it round me as a blindfold. I felt her hair fall on my face and I pursed my lips for a kiss.

"Hands behind your head Bull," she instructed, "no touching". I did so, realising the cuck and I were both now under her control. I had butterflies and I could feel my worn out cock throbbing.

She moved off the bed, pulled my feet apart slightly, and I heard her walk round blowing the candles out. I tried to peek out of the blindfold, down my nose, but there was just blackness, so I shut my eyes and enjoyed the anticipation.

It felt like ages... how many fucking candles were there?... but then the mattress moved under Grace's weight as she stepped up onto it, placing one foot either side of me.

She squatted down and ran a fingernail over my chest. "Are you going to be my good Bull?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, smiling.

It didn't last long. She slapped me, hard. My ear rang but I heard through the other one, "'Yes' what?".

"Yes Mistress", I ventured. Fuck.

Her breath seemed to catch and I realised she'd been enjoying being called that as much as me. "Good Bull."

Her hips knocked my cock forwards so it was again between us, but with her weight still supported by her feet, she was squatting. Grace started by trapping it and rubbing herself up and down the bottom of my shaft, like in the hot tub earlier. Things this time were complicated by the strap around my waist, which chafed the top of my cock as she grinded. I was expecting to find this uncomfortable but actually, the odd pussy and polyester combination felt surprisingly good.

She started at the base of my cock and moved forwards to the tip, her weight balance shifting on the mattress. Having reached the tip, she did a little swirling motion with her hips so my head and her clit ground against each other, each time becoming wetter and more slippery.

Then she'd go back down again to my balls, crushing them slightly, and I could feel her juices starting to dribble down them and between my legs. Being blindfolded allowed me to concentrate on every sensation and hear myself moaning.

"Are you enjoying this Bull?"

"Fuck yes Mistress," I replied. From the wetness, it appeared so was she.

Grace placed her hands on my chest and upped the pace, grinding faster and faster, far more so than in the hot tub where it had been slow and rhythmic. She seemed to keep selecting different parts, for a while focussing on my tip and, as I started to squirm underneath her, moving back to the shaft where I was less sensitive.

Her sensitivity wasn't an issue though and after 15 minutes or so she came, soaking me and allowing her feet to slip away so she was sitting on me. Her hair fell on me again and her tongue parted my lips to kiss. I so desperately wanted to unclasp my hands and hold her, but I resisted.

Her hips shifted and she pulled away, biting my bottom lip and forcing me to move my head with her, but her hands on my chest halted the movement. "Down, Bull", she ordered, her words seeming to drip liquid sex.

She drew her feet up so the tops were on my thighs and the strap tightened further, her knees now resting on it. Grace took my cock on her fingers and I felt the coldness of lube being added (it was getting late, to be fair), then she held it upright so she could slide down onto it.

She started by teasing, taking just the head of my cock and twerking her hips, her hands on my chest. I don't know how long that was for, but it felt like hours. I was dying to push my length into her.

I sensed she was daring me to do something, so I tried to buck my hips and push into her, but it was pointless. The strap was pinning me down by itself, but having her feet on my thighs meant I had no leverage at all to thrust upwards either by pushing with my legs or crunching my stomach.

She felt it and it was what she wanted. "Oooh," she cooed, "my naughty Bull". I allowed a "mmmm" to roll in my chest, hoping she'd feel the rumble in her hands. "Who's in charge, Bull?"

"You are, Mistress."

"Then why are you doing things without permission?" I was silent. "I want to hear you beg, Bull."

"Please, Mistress..."

"Please what?"

"Please let me in".

She moved down an inch, maybe less. "Beg," she ordered.

I begged, earning an extra inch each time. Each time, she ordered "beg", expecting more, and my pleading became desperation. Finally, I got the last inch and she was sitting on my balls.

"Do you want me to fuck you Bull?"

"Yes Mistress."

"Well, ask then," she ordered, so close I could feel her breath.

"Please mistress, please fuck me," I pleaded.

She did. She started tantalisingly slowly, that pussy, still tight after being pounded all evening, dragging upwards almost to the point of me falling out, and then she crashed herself back down onto me, crushing my balls and making me wince slightly. She did it again, and again, and again, each time faster. It was all I could do not to touch or try to adjust the blindfold to see (in fairness, it was only moonlight through the skylight illuminating the room anyway), but she was riding me superbly, occasionally varying pace and depth. After 10 or 15 minutes, I could feel my balls starting to tighten and I lay back to await the beautiful release.

Suddenly, Grace stopped and sat down heavily. "Beg," she ordered. Oh no.

I said anything I could think of. Eventually she lifted her hips and began again, but by that point I was throbbing and we were virtually starting from square one. Except we weren't; actually she seemed tighter, and wetter, and each stroke in and out seemed to start a pulse of pleasure not only in my cock, but up my spine.

She judged it perfectly again the next time, waiting until just as I was on the cusp to edge me. While I begged this time, she tormented me by moving her pussy achingly slowly up and down me as I strained against the strap trying to buck my hips - she knew I was powerless but she was keeping me on the edge.

Stuck in a mind fog, I tried to think clearly. The third time would be the one, where she'd let me cum. Good things come in threes, don't they? This was our fifth fuck of the evening and my cock was starting to ache now. She seemed to wetten and tighten as I approached orgasm and I genuinely believed this was it.

She paused a third time, seemingly edging not only me but herself. No. Fuck!

"Please," I heard myself say, beating her to it. "I love you."

I'd said too much, but it wasn't too out of character I guess and I felt her pussy tighten when I said it. She started again, really riding hard now, each stroke of my raging cock like a lightning bolt through every fibre of me. I could feel it coming a fourth time. So could Grace.

Grace tugged the scarf off my head. "You wanna cum with me baby?" she said breathlessly.

"Fuck," I couldn't speak. "Fuck, please baby, let me cum."

We came together, totally in sync, and it was toe curling. My body spasmed under the strap. As we started our kiss, I unclasped my hands and flung my arms round her to hold her while my balls, I'd assumed running on empty, unloaded whatever was left into her. She wrapped her arms around my neck and we kissed until her orgasm stopped, then lay in each other's arms again. I loved the feeling of her heart pounding and her warm body against mine.

We were into the small hours. I was drifting off but, even by my low standards, being strapped down like a patient on a gurney wasn't a suitable sleeping arrangement. Grace drowsily stood up and I fell out of her, both of us covered in another layer of fluids. She reached around to the ratchet and released the strap with ease (I need to ask her about that). I rubbed my sore hips and threw the orange strap, soaked in the same fluids, onto the floor.

We released the cuck from his cable ties. I took the ball gag and Grace unlocked the chastity cage (I was not going anywhere near that thing). He was staring at the bed as if into space, but after a few seconds he stood, saying nothing, walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

"Is he OK?" I whispered to Grace. She shrugged and collapsed under the duvet, unconcerned. I didn't fancy being murdered in my sleep, so I followed him.

I opened the door to him, lying on the bathroom floor, wanking hard, his fist a blur. He didn't stop.

"Oh...you OK big man?" I asked.

He nodded and swallowed. "Yes sir".

Sunday 4 December

Grace's 9:30 alarm woke us up (ahead of our 10am checkout). We'd slept facing each other in a hot and sticky embrace of tangled limbs and waking up to her face, makeup a mess, was bliss.

The cuck, having kindly not murdered us, had showered, folded the strap, collapsed the cage and packed our bags but left a change of clothes each; his chores completed absolutely soundlessly. I wasn't sure how I felt about him going through my bag (I did say he was like a butler).

Grace and I peeled ourselves off each other and showered. No sex - we were too sore - but we kissed gently under the hot water as we washed. We brushed our teeth in the two sinks and got dressed.

I walked uncomfortably (my jeans were chafing my hips) up to the main car park, brought the car back and we slung everything into the boot. I took one last look around the lodge, locked the door, and drove the three of us up to reception. I went in to drop the key off and when I got back to the car, Grace had swapped to the back seat behind me, next to the cuck.

Feeling slightly spurned, I started the engine and pulled away. Watching them in the rear view, the cuck seemed interested only in his phone with his usual poker face, ignoring Grace's glances. But I noticed once we got onto the motorway, in the first display of affection I'd seen between them, she was resting her head on his shoulder, her wet hair on his puffer. Chalk and cheese. They were both dozing, and I found myself rubbing my eyes too in sympathy.

I thought about suggesting a drink or something - I didn't want it to end - but ultimately decided to drop them off back home. Grace took my chain and pulled me in for a discreet kiss and a cuddle. "Message me?" I asked, and she nodded.

The cuck held out his hand and this time I shook it. Something like a smile passed his lips and then just like that, they were gone.

I stood on the kerb, stretched my aching shoulders, and lit a rollup. I checked my phone, complaining about its battery being nearly dead. 11:15. I had writing to do.

* £15 on Amazon Prime, one of the reviews read "I ordered this collar for my ferret unfortunately it is massive and just slides off her"; I laughed for ages.

** My poetry here is almost as good as a Steven Seagal script to be fair.

*** I'm not at all homophobic, and to clarify I wouldn't use that term out of "character" - it's certainly not my intention to offend. I'd spoken to Grace to find out what would get into his head and she'd suggested those points, one of which was his bicurious-ness. Verbally humiliating people isn't something that comes naturally to me at the moment but I did get into it.