Leisl

My name is Leisl and I am kinky as fuck.

What a way to start. But it's true. I am a massive slut, and kinky in a way that only other kinky people can really wrap their heads around. I have a boyfriend and a girlfriend, we live in a triad, and we are happy as clams.

I'm going to tell you about myself, but I have to warn you now -- there's a fuckload of sex in here. A full metric fuckton of sex. Just the way I like it. So get yourself a beer, sit back, slip your hand down your jeans, and I'll begin at the beginning.

I'll get something out of the way first of all: I had a wonderful childhood. Why do people think that anyone who likes to be treated the way I like to be treated had to have had a terrible, abusive childhood? It's just not true. My parents were awesome and I had a totally ordinary upbringing. Ordinary school, ordinary friends, ordinary experiences. First got drunk at 14, first kiss at 15, lost my virginity at 16 and had my heart broken at 17. Graduated high school in the top of my classes but decided not to go to uni, mainly because everyone else was doing it and I like to be different, just for the fuck of it. So I got a job at an enormous law firm in Sydney as a receptionist and general administrative dogsbody. That's where my real story starts.

In 2004, I was 22, and had been at the law firm for three years or so, recently promoted to office manager. Steve had just landed his first job as an IT technician after finishing uni the previous year. We flirted and chatted, starting off like any office romance: dancing together at the Christmas party, going for drinks almost every Friday after work, seeing movies and having brunch. His combination of pale blue eyes and dark hair, with lashes so thick it looked like he was wearing eyeliner, really turned me on, and he smiled whenever he saw me. We came to be known as an item around the office, which is always a little dangerous -- but nobody watching us could have doubted that Steve and Leisl were officially a thing. After about three months, we were already making our verbal commitments to each other, and we knew this was it, in that irritating way that only very young adults think they know after just three months. We were sickening. We were one of those lovey-dovey couples that even other couples can't bear to be around, we were so positively disgustingly in love. We also fucked every spare moment we could get, breaking rules about family time and friendship priorities, and a few times, breaking laws about public decency. Steve had inherited an old terrace house in Glebe when his Dad passed away when Steve was 17, and he lived in that four bedroom house by himself. We christened every room in the house, including the laundry, the garage and the front balcony overlooking the street. I even sucked him off one time in the filing room at work after hours. If we'd been caught we'd have been professionally screwed. So I moved in with him, if only to keep the "getting screwed" bit more literal than metaphorical.

Then, about four months in, it happened.

Steve had been saying he loved me for about three months already. That much I knew. So when, while fucking one night, he slapped me across the face, hard, you could say I was a tad surprised. I just stared at him. He stared at me. We both stopped moving, and we held each other, silent and still. My stomach flipped over and danced around, in that way it does when you're turned on beyond belief. After holding my breath for what felt like minutes but I'm sure was only seconds, I knew. Deep down, in my gut, I knew. Without thinking about the possible consequences of what was undoubtedly now about to happen, I held his gaze and whispered, "Again." That's all he needed, and we were off and running.

We tried pretty much everything we could think of, at least once. For the first couple of weeks, we worked purely off our own imagination. He started giving me commands, first in sentence form, then as we got used to it, in single words. We both got off on it when he'd click his fingers and say, "Here." I'd walk over and stand in front of him, knowing what usually came next. Sure enough, another click, "Down." I'd drop to my knees so fast it hurt, and wait to hear "Suck," so I could suck his beautiful cock with everything I had until he came in my mouth. The first few times, I had to stop halfway through because my jaw ached and I couldn't help gagging on his length. But after a few months of almost-daily practice, my jaw muscles strengthened, my gag reflex relaxed, and I found that eventually I could deep throat him pretty much any time he asked for it. Clicked for it. Whatever.

We experimented with a few other things he thought up. He pulled my hair -- I love that, the harder the better. I grew out my formerly short, choppy, rock-chick hairstyle until finally, my straight, chocolate brown hair nearly grazed my ass. Steve loves that; he can start at the bottom and wrap the hair around his hand, making us both feel a powerful sense of his ownership. He clamps my throat with his hand regularly to this day -- it's one of our favourite things. We both love to feel that he controls me to such an extent that he controls my breathing too (although after one memorable incident, we are careful not to allow any more neck bruises. These days the bruising we both relish is kept to more inconspicuous areas). One night he asked me to call him Sir, a name I savoured and have loved calling him ever since. In response he called me Slut, which I loved and still do, because it's accurate and hot. One of his favourite things, even back then, was to watch me doing household chores in lingerie (that he'd picked out, of course) and then he'd fuck me senseless, spontaneously, when I bent to pick up his socks or unload the dishwasher. When he's feeling sadistic he'll tell me to finish loading the dishwasher with his cock inside me -- and then punish me if I do it wrong.

He tied me up, a really common jumping off point for lots of couples apparently. At first he tried to use silk scarves like the magazines suggest, but after a couple of minutes of fussing with the flimsy, soft material he just snorted, undid me, and went to fetch some gaffer tape. When that left a sticky dirty residue on my skin, we turned to the internet for suggestions. That was when our adventures really took flight. The choice of sites wasn't as prolific in those days, but there were enough for us. Porn, bondage how-tos, more porn, beginner's guides to BDSM, still more porn. A few days after the gaffer tape incident, we stumbled upon a BDSM checklist. We hadn't been actively searching for a name for what we'd been doing, but it was still a pleasant surprise to know that not only were there more like us, they had written whole lists of activities for us to try that we hadn't even thought of! So one Sunday evening we sat down with some beers, printed out a couple of copies of the list, and filled them in separately. It was so much fun -- going through and reading about all these practices we hadn't even considered. Some of them were a little bit weird, but most of them made my stomach flip in that delicious way I'd come to think of as pre-coital. Thirty minutes later, we swapped them back to read each other's, and quickly burst out laughing. You know how some couples are just into the same stuff, and turned off by the same stuff, and it reinforces their rightness for each other? It wasn't exactly like that for us - what we'd both done is basically ticked entire columns of "I want to try that", page after page after page. Age play, electro play, ass play, blood play, rape play -- like I said earlier, kinky as fuck. So, in the months to come, try them we did.

We amassed quite a collection of toys in those first few months. Dildos, of course, in all shapes, sizes, and colours. Vibrators, many of the waterproof variety, and also a couple of remote ones. Just so you know: the remote ones didn't work as well as you'd think. More than a metre's distance really screwed up the signal reception. Steve put one deep inside me on my birthday, and we went out to dinner to try it out, only to have not much happen. We had to go home without dessert just to get over our disappointment (by fucking on the floor of the front hallway, obviously). We also bought paddles, floggers, whips, nipple clamps, butt plugs, Wartenberg wheels, hypodermic needles, costumes, stockings, and more condoms than a LifeStyles show bag from Sexpo. 2005 was a very fun year!

So. We'd been together for a year. By this stage we'd long since tried pretty much everything on our checklists that we could. For our first anniversary, we decided to try something neither of us had ever done, but Steve had a major jones for, and I felt I could probably handle - a threesome. It sounds pretty vanilla, doesn't it, compared to some of the stuff we'd got up to in the past, but come on -- even for somebody like me it was scary thinking of someone I love fucking someone else. What if he likes that person better? What if they're hotter than me? Etc etc, ad infinitum -- we talked about it for weeks and decided we'd never know unless we tried. After trusting Steve to fuck me with a (blunted) knife held to my throat, I figured I could trust him to be honest about another person in our bed. Now, Steve isn't one of those guys who gets all macho and uses a term like "Devil's threesome" -- he was totally up for a guy-guy-girl scenario as much as he was for a guy-girl-girl. As far as Steve is concerned, sex is sex, and feels great no matter who is fucking whom. But there was something we both knew might tip the scales one way more than the other, in terms of who we invited into our games, and it was something Steve had coaxed out of me within our first month together, and had used as fantasy fodder ever since. I had always, as long as I could remember, had dreams and fantasies about women. Not necessarily me with women, although that had crossed my mind. It was more just women in general. Women licking out other women, women being pounded hard by Steve, other hot men I knew fucking gorgeous, huge-breasted women. My body has always been curvy, with wide hips and large tits, and I've always admired women's bodies that look sort of similar- feminine and real, not stick-thin or muscular and hard. The thought of their soft round voluptuous flesh under dextrous, feminine hands has always featured in my fantasies. I used to say my body and hormones were straight, but my brain was gay. So I knew, knowing Steve as well as I did, that he'd be looking for a woman like I'd described in our warm dark bed together.

As it turned out, he found a few of them. First, there was Sophie. She had done it before and knew what she was doing, didn't pressure me, and made us pancakes in the morning before she disappeared. Her talent and attitude were the perfect jumping-off point for us; it is possible if our first hadn't been someone like Sophie, we might not be where we are today. She licked my pussy for ten full minutes before I came; I was amazed she was so patient. I wasn't even sure I would be able to come with a woman, but Steve knows what I like and told Sophie to make sure I could see her huge bouncing breasts while she ate me out. She had short, pixie-cut blonde hair so the view was unobstructed, and I have to say, mesmerising. Steve lay next to me while my legs were open and my cunt was being licked and sucked, he stared into my eyes the whole time, rubbed my tits and pinched my nipples until I had no choice but to come, noisily and hard. As I was getting close, he leaned over and whispered, "Come for me, Slut," which gets me every time, and I came, just for him, all over Sophie's face. She kissed me then and she tasted like me. I was hooked.

Next there was Alexis, who took it one step further and licked my pussy while Steve fucked her. He threaded his fingers into her spiky pink hair and used the leverage to pound her hard against him. He still looked at me the whole time, to ensure I felt wanted, and when he spurted inside her it was my name he groaned. Alexis and I pashed for ages after that, because I wanted to taste myself on her, and because I found I loved the feel of her enormous breasts pressed up against mine. I kissed and licked and sucked her tits, loving the feel of her nipples in my mouth and between my teeth, and the sound of her delicious moans and hot little yelps. Steve rubbed both of our pussies while we kissed passionately, and I came while she explored my mouth with her soft feminine lips. Later he went down on her, with me watching hungrily as his tongue disappeared up inside her dripping wet pussy, and she came even more loudly than me.

Then there was Vivienne. She might have been my favourite, and she stayed in my dreams for weeks. With her, it was the first time I went down on a woman myself. Steve and I had been fucking to fantasies of our threesomes for months, and me sucking another woman's clit until she came in my mouth was one of Steve's favourite scenarios; it often made him come just by talking about it during sex. Sophie and Alexis had been so lovely and obliging licking me out, plus it looked like so much fun; I had to try it. We met Vivienne the same way we'd met the others, on MySpace (remember MySpace?!), and she turned up for our date looking unbelievable. She walked into our favourite local bar in a miniskirt and stiletto heels, long brown hair swinging free; she was just ridiculously, gorgeously tempting. We had her back to our house in record time and Steve fucked her against the wall before I could even offer tea. That's what gave us the idea for our game. Steve turned his head to grunt at me, "Tea, slut," and I was surprised, but I obliged. I brought it to them when it was ready, by which time Steve had Vivienne bent over the arm of the couch, legs wrapped around his waist. She still had her heels on and she'd linked her ankles together for traction. I sat and watched them fucking like it was a documentary, one hand down my jeans, stroking my pussy and feeling how wet it made me to watch them. When Steve finally decided it was my turn, he fucked me from behind while I sucked her clit. She tasted like Steve's cock and came like a steam train in only two minutes. I felt proud of myself and licked her pussy twice more that night. At one point Steve fucked her up the ass while I had my tongue up her cunt -- logistically difficult, but sizzling hot. That time when she came I thought the ceiling would crack.

There could have been more, but by that time, I had started to have thoughts -- bad thoughts. Jealousy.

Steve caught on quick, and found us a kink-friendly therapist to talk to. She guided us towards books, exercises, and habits to explore and adopt to help us work with and eventually, hopefully, eliminate my jealousy. We read books by Dossie Easton, Janet Hardy and Catherine A. Liszt (later discovering the latter two were the same person), and Steve started calling me by a name which I have cherished ever since -- his Forever-Girl. He'd called me many cute little names in the past -- his little slut, his pet, and even, after I'd graduated from TAFE as a paralegal, his little Para-Leisl. More than any of these, though, hearing him call me his Forever-Girl always did, and still does make me feel much safer, much more secure. Eventually my jealousy began to feel like a thing of the past, an old feeling that I'd confronted and conquered. This turned out to be a timely discovery, as the mountain of sites and books we read led Steve to a discovery of his own. He turned it over and over in his mind, wording it and crafting it so that it didn't make me feel threatened when he finally shared it with me. It was late at night, and we were snuggling after a wonderful slow love-making session -- yes, kinky people still have those! He kissed me all over my face, making me giggle, and then told me he loved me, I was his Forever-Girl and always would be. He said he loved seeing me getting pleasure from other women, but also loved seeing me doing his housework, serving him. He started to talk about how he'd love to see me doing both, all the time, and I began to get a bad feeling about what he was going to say next. Sure enough, it came crashing into my ears, the sentence that changed our lives forever, "I'd kind of like to start looking for a girlfriend for us."

We talked about it. We talked, and talked, and talked about it. My jealousy came back a little, I started thinking perhaps I wasn't enough for him, perhaps I'd never been enough for him. However Steve, with his always-incredible intuition about what would make me feel better, soothed me endlessly. I was his Forever-Girl, I always would be, all this was was a desire to see me even sexier and more submissive to him. He floated the idea that monogamy just wasn't the way our brains worked -- his and mine - and I had to admit I'd been thinking the same thing for some time. As always, his logic won out. I started to realise having three of us in the relationship could be ideal, and definitely lots of fun. The day he came home with a little curlicued "L" for Leisl tattooed inside his right wrist, I knew I wanted this too. I also knew that in order to feel good about the girl he chose to be with us, I would be helping him find her.

Fast forward -- six months later. 2006. We'd been spending time in bars and pubs across the city, searching for a girl that not only turned Steve on, but with whom I could get along as well. Not easy -- women are notorious for being territorial, and most of the women we approached were no different. Sex, sure, fine, wonderful -- but a relationship? Not having the sexy Steve all to themselves? Impossible! They call them unicorns -- women actively looking for couples -- because they are the stuff of legend. They don't exist. We never found one, that's for sure. Eventually, though, we did find Lily.

The scene: a dark, comfortable, smoky bar in Surry Hills -- back in the days when bars were still allowed to be smoky. Lily was at the bar with friends, and Steve and I were sitting in a corner couch perving on the talent. Steve went over to the bar to get us another drink, and suddenly rushed back to point her out to me. His enthusiasm was, and is, so endearing to me, I giggled at his excitement just to spot a cute girl. When I saw her, I realised why he was being so adorable, and a little rush of ego made me feel brave -- she looked a lot like me. Small, very curvy, brown hair that was not very long, but I knew Steve was picturing it much longer (and wrapped around his hand). Big eyes, also brown, enormous eyelashes that added to the anime character look. Low-cut top and breasts big enough to make both of us stare at them a little too long. Jeans, not a miniskirt -- she wasn't showing off; her clothing taste was approved. I looked at him, watched him watching her. Steve, my Sir, the love of my life. All I ever wanted was to make him as happy as he looked right at this moment. So I nodded. He grinned. With a lingering kiss for me, he strode back to the bar.

I pulled out my e-reader. Steve liked to chat a girl up, make her laugh, turn her on a little bit before he broached the threesome subject. He is so charismatic that he only rarely got turned down by that point. I knew it might be a while. I was enjoying a biography of a professional submissive. What happened next they told me only later.

Steve approached the girl. He complimented. She smiled. He flirted. She laughed. He subtly separated her from her group. He bought them drinks. They "accidentally" touched hands when reaching for them. They made eye contact. Ten minutes passed -- then twenty. Then she asked.

"Who's that girl over there? She keeps looking at us," she said, holding his gaze so he couldn't prevaricate. He didn't try to.

"That's my girlfriend." Lily later said she was surprised at his honesty, but intrigued by his directness.