Seasons greetings fellow Pigs and perverts. I have been preoccupied over the past few weeks with the bereavement of a close family member and the celebrations of the HusPig accepting my proposal to make him an honest PIG. Today’s post will give you a little insight into how my twisted mind ticks. You see, I am bi-polar. For those of you who don’t know a lot about this I will give you a brief description for what it means for a sleaze-bag like me.
My mood can go from manic highs, which usually manifests into a insatiable binge of raw sex with as many men as I can find and deep dark lows of self loathing, which usually also manifest into dark, risky and sometimes very dangerous sexual encounters. The kinds of sex my mood orchestrates me towards are very different but it is a firm pattern that it is the sex I have which balances me back towards a more normalised mood. My man has caught onto this very quickly and so has learnt what to do at certain times to snap me out of a said High or Low moods.
Losing a close family member is hard for us all. The last time it happened I didn’t have a strong support network around me and so my grief twisted into a 12 month cycle of fucked up parties and extreme sex. I am lucky to have made it through the other side in one piece. This time however, I have the HusPig to help. I will give you an example how he does:
The rage inside was fierce. The blackness was falling. The sadness was becoming inescapable!
“What’s the matter? You haven’t looked me in the eye since you got home from work.”
I pulled the duvet tighter round my shoulders and buried my face deeper into the pillow. This way I felt secure. This way the world was padded around me and was warm and intimate.
“Well if you’re just going to ignore me I will just have to make sure you cant!”
I could hear rummaging in the drawers next to the bed and my curiosity stirred slightly. I felt his body sink in behind and he spooned me, wrapping his arms around the duvet and holding me tightly.
“It’s going to be ok, I’m here now, I’m not going anywhere.” The whisper almost imperceptible from the sound of the blood pounding through the blood vessels in my ears. He remained quiet and held me for a good 5 minutes. I calmed a little, but what I needed was not this type of serenity. He must have sensed my unrest.
His arm resting beneath me slid up and found its way under the pillow which hid my face. I felt his hand slide up my neck and over my chin until it was cupped over my lips and nose. He tensed and restricted my breathing. I flinched briefly but knew already that the events of the next few hours had already been written. I must endure what was to come. This was to be my only release.
“Keep your eyes closed! If you open them you will be punished.”
His voice had changed. It was deeper, sterner and commanded obedience. With the other hand he picked open the duvet and stripped away my cocoon of security. I could feel the gasp for breath growing in my chest and a mild panic grew but the strength of his hold on my face worked to maintain my calmness. As he rolled my onto my back he allowed his hand to open a crack and I pulled in a breath through his fingers.
He removed his hand, but within seconds I felt the cloth press over my eyes.
“Raise your head.”
I obeyed. He swiftly tied the cloth behind my head.
“Put your hands behind your head. Good boy!” My hands now rested behind my head and were gripping the opposite arm near the elbow.
The sound of film being pulled from a roll is like an electrical storm. I shuddered slightly. I felt him hold one end of the film over my tensed right bicep as he pulled the film tightly over my face.
“Raise your head. Good boy.”
The film sealed over my face as he brought the tube behind my head and arms to connect with the start of the roll. I kept my head raised as he brought the film around a second time. I shuddered slightly with relief as he pushed a thumb through the taught film over my mouth and my cock twitched in my pants. Over and over he wrapped the film, depriving me of breath then allowing me once more to inhale, but only when he was ready. My cock grew harder with every layer.
“You may lower your head now.”
He left me.
Waiting.
The sounds in the room were muffled and strangely distant as I lay there in my cling film bubble.
I felt a tug at my tee-shirt and the cold shock as he brought the back of the scissor blades against my stomach. Meticulously he cut away my tee shirt: the sound of the blades coming together were the only sound I could focus on. My heart raced! My cock was rigid!
When he was done I felt a tug at the button of my jeans and soon they were gone too.
“Somebody is enjoying this a little too much. Maybe I am being too easy on you?”
I didn’t answer.
“I asked you a question. Do I have to repeat myself?”
I didn’t know what to say. After a pause I spoke through the hole in the film.
“No Sir.”
“That’s good to know boy. I’ll carry on as I am then. What do you say boy?”
“Thank you Sir.”
“Good boy.”
Then there was silence.
After some time I could hear him breathing near the side of my head. He was watching me.
The sound of the rope rasping and whining as he pulled it through the side of the bed was almost deafening after the interlude of nothingness. He worked slowly and methodically, drawing the rope over my body, twining and wrapping, tightening and securing. He worked the rope around my balls and cock and soon I was lashed down to the bed. The slightest movement pulled on my balls and brought the rope tighter, burning into my skin. I waited. My breathing shallow and drawn out.
“Breath boy!”
I drew a deep breath as he slapped down on my restrained bollocks. The pain seared through my body but as I tensed my muscles the rope tore into my flesh. I calmed my mind and regained my composure and waited. The next slap was harder but I was ready this time and absorbed the pain, redirecting the sensation into something closer to a classical symphony than a death metal chorus line. I exhaled slowly and felt my whole body relax into a calmer state.
“Good boy.” The next slap rippled through my body before he finished speaking.
“Thank-you Sir.” I whispered, redirecting and channeling the warmth rising through my stomach. I knew there was more to come; I knew he was just warming me up.
He took me through waves of pain and torment with pegs, pressure points, temperature gradient and over stimulation until I was giggling from the rush of endorphins my brain was pumping out to enable me to accommodate the ordeal.
“Are you thirsty?” The first words that had stood out as a signal that he felt I had endured enough. I was indeed thirsty and realised that my mouth was completely barren of moisture. With great care he slowly released me from my rope and film restraints. As I opened my eyes the feelings of loss and malcontent had all but evaporated.
“Follow me.” He commanded as he headed to the bathroom. My body groaned as I stood up but the feeling was one of release and not discomfort. I found him stood next to the shower, holding his cock and staring at the tiled floor. I fell to my knees, my mouth falling open in anticipation of the golden drink I knew that was to follow. As I looked into his face he released and filled my mouth, quenching my thirst and completing my need to serve. His piss was strong. He had been saving it for some time! As I gulped it down small rivulets ran through my beard and trickled down my chest to douse the fiery heat which was coming from my nut sack.
All thoughts of loss and grief were gone.
All feelings of emptiness were replaced by a sense of purpose and ownership.
He told me to shower and returned to our room.
…………..
I found him lying on the bed smiling to himself. I lay next to him and cuddled into his side with my head laid on his chest.
“Don’t get to comfy, Pup Growly is on his way to breed your hole! You have been a good lad so now you get your reward.”
His grin was broad and his eyes twinkled! I thought I had been rewarded enough already but wasn’t going to complain. The doorbell rang and shortly after Growly entered the bedroom with an air of complete sexual energy. He is a stray Pup. He has no owner and was scented with a raw feral nature that indicated to me that this dog liked to run with a pack but would require an Alpha of extreme dominance to truly control him. The HusPig smiled at me as he recognised the look of hunger on my face. Pup Growly used my mouth and arse unmercifully with his thick solid Canadian cock! I was still high from the brain drugs I had secreted to compensate for the trials I had been through earlier. As a result I eagerly and greedily took all that Pup Growly could throw at me and when I finally felt his load shooting into my arse my purge was complete. What followed was a feeling of serenity I had not had since I took my first fist!
So, am I still grieving? Of course!
But this time around I have him to hold me together.
Stay connected with Bruce, the Brit-PIG
