Andrey Ganesha - The Magical World of BDSM

When I met Olga in the chat, she and her husband lived and worked in Senegal. In the course of our correspondence, she described her lovers. One of them was a black guy who raped her on a white Rolls-Royce, and at the end of the action, the condom on his huge black cock was torn. Another lover was a special services officer who worked at the embassy. I really think that she invented these stories about her lovers. Sometimes it was very interesting to communicate with her and we were on the same wave, so to speak, while at other moments her messages seemed full of delirium to me. Therefore I think that while in Africa Olga was abusing alcohol.

In addition, Olga sent me photos of beautiful African landscapes or photos from the Paris – Dakar race. We discussed books, work, films and, of course, our erotic fantasies with each other. And then one summer she came back and invited me to a cafe near Vernadskii Prospekt.

There, she was sipping coffee with a young friend. I liked Olga: smiling, relaxed, with a small, neat little beer belly. Olga’s friend did not like me, though: slightly carelessly dressed, a bit tense from the fact that I expected there would just be two of us.

After having coffee, the friend left us, and Olga and I went for a walk to the neighboring park named after the 50th anniversary of October. Several years later I would often walk past this park on my way to the swing club “Adam and Eve”, and back then, Olga and I found some bushes, which were a rare sight in this small park. While in the thick of the bushes, I bit my lips into her nipple, which was facilitated by the fact that Olga did not wear a bra, and stroked her stomach with my hand. Olga bent down and unzipped my jeans. The pleasure of her initiative and fearlessness caused an attack of passion in me, and so, clasping her black hair with the palm of my hand, I pressed her head against my pants. Since the park is small and cramped, we were soon interrupted by some passing boys. Fiddling with my hand inside Olga’s panties a bit, I said good-bye and agreed to meet her in a more suitable setting.

Our next meeting took place at the Central House of Artists. Near the CHA was a large number of abandoned building houses, as the construction of the “Museon” park was underway, adjacent to the CHA. We spent about an hour there, engaged with oral sex until we were scared off by a worker who passed by, as if we were not there. Or as if he routinely sees people fucking here. Well, maybe that’s true, who knows…

Excited, I went with Olga to the Central House of Artists, whose entire building was given to the avant-garde artist Kulik. The building was being prepared for repair, and avant-garde statues rose on the ground floor, all made from scrap metal. In general, I did not even notice any artistic subtleties in Kulik’s work, although I was pretty impressed by a stand dedicated to Inner Mongolia. The steppe and simplicity of the surrounding nature created a special kind of mysticism, and the CHA itself looked very unusual. All the floors were imbued in semi-darkness, chairs and furniture were missing, but there were mattresses lying on the floors on which one could lie in the dark. This kind of romanticism did not appeal to Olga. After examining the exhibition, I ran into the toilet, where I met Kulik himself, he was squeezing toothpaste out of the tube into his hand and brushed his teeth. “A real genius,” I thought. He did not create anything special, but that’s how life is sometimes, just bark a bit at a woman while naked, take a nice shit in a museum, roll down naked on a tarp and bang, you are in the pantheon of contemporary artists. After the CHA, I invited Olga to take a walk along the Neskuchnii Garden, but she was not attracted by the cheap romanticism anymore.

Next time I rented a large spacious sauna on Leninskii Prospekt. I bought a leather whip before our meeting. I was happy to see my new girlfriend. Several seconds passed, and I’m already pulling off her brown jeans and a white T-shirt. Slapping Olga a little on the ass with a whip, uttering various curses, I began to gently kiss her body.

And so, our three-hour sex marathon began. From the bed, we moved to the shower, where our sexual games continued. I liked how trickles of water went down Olga’s body. Sometimes the water prevented me from breathing, and we moved to the pool table. Saunas in Moscow probably exist for drinking bouts, secret meetings with lovers, prostitutes and for playing pool. The balls rolled out from the work of my hips, and Olga liked how we changed positions and locations of our sexual games. Getting bored by the pool table, we moved back to the bedroom.

Satisfied and happy, we parted, agreeing to meet in a week. The next meeting was to take place at my house, and Olga asked me to buy her some cognac. She came very drunk and a bit messed up or something. At that time I still did not know how strong her addiction to alcohol and how ruthless and mad female alcoholism was. I watched my brother’s girlfriend slowly killing herself this way. Unable to stop her drinking with either a sense of duty or sleeping pills, every day she found some reason to drink, and eventually died at thirty.

The charm of our first meetings immediately faded from the slight of the drunken girl. To occupy ourselves somehow, we began to drink cognac. When the cognac was over, I started my sadistic games. Undressing Olga and laying her on the couch, I began to work on her ass, at first slightly, and then with strong and sweeping strokes.

– You filthy whore, slut, take that! … You want more?! Do you love me? Say that you love me, – I cried, feeling the warmth caused by cognac growing inside me. I cried like an avid sadist, although I had never beaten anyone this way before.

– Yes, I do, – she answered with a drunken voice…

I did not feel any joy from our sadomasochistic games; rather I was interested in how far Olga was ready to go. If there was any feeling in me at the moment, it was rather a feeling of disappointment in my worthless life and some anger at the drunken Olga. As for her, she seemed to enjoy the process; she went crazy from my pronounced strokes and voluptuously moaned every time the whip touched her ass. Sometimes I even managed to hit Olga between the legs and when I did, she sobbed with pleasure. Unable to get excited at the sight of this defenseless creature, I began to fuck Olga with the same whip that a moment ago was whipping her ass. Olga did not resist, she was ready to accept anything from me.

– You know, a prostitute taught me how to do blowjob; do you want me to kiss you? – She asked.

– Shut up, you whore! – I shouted, accepting the rules of the game and striking her the ass sonorously with a whip, making her squeal.

At that moment, my friend Mitia called me and I told him that I had a whore at home and if he wanted to, she could provide a complete service to him as well. To my surprise, Mitia agreed. Actually, his type of relationship is a sexual drama, excess emotions from an intelligent kind of girl with glasses. He was aroused by tears and drama, not easy prey that went straight into the net.

Nevertheless, Mitia came, and who opened the door to him was naked Olga. She was completely unafraid of her nudity and a complete stranger seeing her in this situation.

I handed the whip to Mitia and said: “If you want love, beat her.” Mitia reluctantly applied a couple of soft blows to Olga on the ass. He was reluctant to beat Olga, he was surprised to see my new girlfriend. And that’s quite understandable because it’s not every day that you see an unfamiliar naked woman who is absolutely ok with her nudity. Mitia even kissed Olga, but he, too, did not want to fuck with a drunken woman. Olga told Mitia about life in Africa, Mitia liked to listen to different stories.