Last night I had incredible, unbelievably great, phenomenal sex with Sara, and then when Deb got home, I tried the near-orgasm inducing chocolate caramel ice cream she made on Sunday. Oh my god that shit ROCKS. The caramel is a color very similar to the chocolate, so when you take a spoonful, you might just be enjoying the choco-goodness then get a burst of caramel.

I'm gonna have to pay. Sooner or later.

Needless to say, the date was memorable. Even though I had a headache, which I'm sure was caused by wearing a bra all day�fucking bras�when I got home, one ibuprofen and a rum and Diet Coke kicked it right out.

I told Sara I was feeling a bit vampy, and that was okely-dokely with her. We started out as ourselves, kissing and groping and happy to be together again.

My scene premise was that Julian had told Eleanor that she couldn't come back for at least two weeks (to give her time to recuperate from his last feeding), and that he'd been expecting her, because the two weeks were up.

He called her foolhardy and told her that when he fed this time, the blood loss would create a more exagerrated effect and that she would feel it more quickly.

"You say that as if it's a bad thing."

He told her he would do lots of shallow bites and small feedings to prolong things. And that's when we started talking about pain. What she wanted to take. What I wanted to dish out. Short answer: lots.

I put her in the same bondage arrangement that I tried last Monday. Feet manacled, wrists tied between her legs and secured to her ankles, arms bound to her sides with a big, thick, black rope. And a blindfold this time.

I bit her slowly in several spots, not big marks; I carved a pattern in her back with a knife; I beat the scratches with a little bundle of smooth sticks; I used the razor strop on her ass. She was doing great. I slapped at her breasts with a set of two thick, narrow strips of leather. And then I started placing clothespins. Six on each breast, going 3/4 of the way around. I think she was pretty much soaring at that point.

I think that's when she told me her feet hurt, and I took the manacles off. And then I took off the pins. That hurt. I've always heard that clothespins hurt worse when you take them off than when they're put on, but I think you have to experience it to understand.

I fucked her hard from behind, her face mashed into a stack of pillows, until she started begging me to let her come. I'd forgotten that I'd told her not to until I said so. I gave the okay, and that's all it took. I could practically feel the constriction around my leather cock.

I kept going, but she was squeezing down so hard she was actually pushing the dick out, so I turned her over on her back and started to work with my hand.

She was so wet, so hot, she was racing up a peak but I could tell she was holding it back. We hadn't put any bed pads or towels down.

"Go ahead and come! I don't give a fuck!" I told her and sank my fangs into her shoulder for the big drink.

[cue Hawaii Five-O music]

SPLOOOOSH!

ba ba ba ba BAAA Baaaa, ba ba Baaa Baaa Baaa....

All the megapower love juice she didn't expend last weekend, and everything she'd saved up since came roaring out. Oh. God. What a rush. She was bucking like crazy, spraying into my palm like a fire hose.

That was some series of orgasms. Wow. Everything subsided and we collapsed. I looked at the clock. Only an hour had passed since we started. We still had another hour to play with.

Allll riiiiight.

Well, first we had to deal with the mess. We had trashed the comforter, the sheets underneath, and probably the foam pad under that.

We got everything dried up and straightened away (meaning piled in a big heap on the floor for me to worry about washing later), got a new blanket so we wouldn't get cold, and spent the next hour with some much more mellow lovemaking. Sara fell asleep nestled up into my shoulder again. She looks so sweet when she does that. I almost drifted off myself.

I had fleeting thoughts about Deb coming home and not finding me downstairs and waiting for us to come down, starting to fume, not wanting to have to go up there herself. That kept me from falling asleep.

As we were getting ready to go back downstairs, I was pulling the pillow cases off the pillows and found a sewing needle embedded in one of the pillows. A big-ass sewing needle. A needle that Sara could have ground into her face or eye if she'd been on the wrong pillow. Damn. Who knows how long that's been in there.

This morning I checked with Deb, asking her if there was anything she needed to tell me or if she was upset about anything ... if she'd been feeling vengeful at all and wanting to poke Sara's eyes out with sharp objects ...

Nope. Not her. [I never actually suspected her, it was just the funniest way of telling her about it.]

It was probably my crazy ex-roommate from 12 years ago who put dog shit in the pocket of my leather jacket before she moved out.

Gotta get some work done. Later I'll tell you about the visit with Sara I had this morning.

I told you. I'm afraid I'm REALLY going to have to pay for how wonderful my life is someday.