Andrey Ganesha - The Magical World of BDSM

When the effect of alcohol began to end, we called another friend of mine Volodia and asked him to buy some cognac and come to fuck. Knowing me, Volodia somehow immediately realized that I was not joking, and fifty minutes later, he was standing on my doorstep with a bottle of cognac. I, Mitia and Olga drank another shot each and went to the living room, where I showed a true sex show to Volodia. I heavily slapped Olga with a whip, who was moaning from pleasure, and then I fucked Olga with the help of the whip, suggesting that he did the same thing with her. Volodia refused, and I incidentally whipped him with a whip, too. I did apologize, though.

We went to the kitchen again, in order to sip some cognac once again, after which Volodia dragged naked Olga into the bedroom. A minute later, I decided to peek over their sex, and maybe even join them. Volodia was fucking Olga, who was standing on all fours; I went up and stroked her on the head. At that moment, Volodia snorted and took out his cock from Olga. The condom was filled. My show must have made a strong impression on Volodia.

We now have a lot of fun drinking Volodia’a cognac. He is the only one who does not drink. For this, we punish him, saying jokes about his fire rate.

– Here’s to the fucking rabbit, I proclaim another toast.

Volodia does not like such jokes, and, having received his portion of affection, he soon leaves. As for me, I do not know what to do with Olga, it’s evening, she cannot get home alone, even by taxi, and I cannot keep her at home, as her husband is waiting for her at home. I’m calling her friend who was at our first meeting at the cafe to consult her as to what to do in this situation. Should I let Olga stay for the night, or to go by taxi with her and hand her over to her husband? The friend does not want to know shit, she yells into the phone that I’d drive Olga home, and that’s what I did.

I called a taxi, and Mitia and I accompanied Olga on her way home. Not knowing the nature of her husband, I grabbed a means of self-defense “The Blow”, which shoots a jet of some vigorous gas. You know, just in case. A few moments later, and we are on Udaltsova Street. The elevator brought us right to Olga’s floor, and she pushes the bell button. Nobody opens the door. I’m a little nervous, while Mitia carelessly kisses Olga on her staircase. “Asshole,” I think to myself. First of all, one should not insult her husband, and besides, who knows what he risks at this moment, the husband may come out and bite off his head. After a while, the husband did appear, and Mitia and I hurried to the elevator, whose door I was prudently holding open with my foot.

From that moment, though Olga hit the drinking-bout, she felt a kind of psychological affection for me. I did virtually nothing. I mean, I beat her with a whip on the ass, saying all kinds of curses, but for her, it meant so much more than for me. From that moment on she was attached to me with something that I myself did not fully understand. And I do not understand until now what illusions the whip in my hand was generating in her drunken female head.

Freedom

My next experience in BDSM happened a few years later. At that time I lived with a young girl called Vika. Our relations could be considered very free and strange. Despite the fact that we lived together, we did not have a common life. Both of us arranged our own way of life and leisure, as we saw convenient. At home, I was taking care of cooking, while Vika cleaned the house and ironed my shirts when it was necessary. Sometimes we visited swing clubs, where we indulged in love games with various partners; sometimes Vika visited her lovers without me. It’s not that it was a betrayal, it’s just that none of us wanted to be tied by any additional responsibilities, we both wanted to just enjoy life.

Since the book is devoted to BDSM relations, I would like to tell a bit about this aspect of our relations. In its purest form, I am neither a sadist nor a dominant, I like to give people freedom in life, in sex, relationships and attachments. Therefore, although we did use a whip, handcuffs and other goods from the sex shop in our intimate relationship with Vika, it was rather for sexual fun, not as an expression of master-slave relationship. Sometimes I would make made Vika grunt during sex, sometimes we experimented with asphyxiation or with blindfolding, often I would slap her with my hand on the ass, which she especially liked, and she didn’t learn all of this from me, very far from it. It’s just that Vika loved hard sex and masculine attention. She probably wasn’t a masochist, and I did not aspire to make her into one. One day, something happened to us that made me think again that after all, a woman’s sincere passion is felt towards those who torment her.

One day, Vika’s mother came from Baku, and Vika decided to introduce me. By coincidence, the meeting took place in the same cafe as our first meeting with Vika. Vika came slightly drunk to our meeting with her mother, accompanied by a friend called Natasha. Natasha’s surname was pretty notorious – Svoboda ( Russian for “freedom” ). Just like Vika, Natasha was under the slight influence. In order to avoid becoming bored communicating with drunken girls, I bought a seven hundred gram bottle of vodka. As there were no snacks to speak of, I quickly reached Vika’s and Natasha’s state of drunkenness, and communication began to flow easily and not without a share of romance between me and Natasha. There was a spark between our eyes, and for me, it was a fresh, invigorating experience. Vicka is eighteen years younger than me, and we grew up in different cultural environments and even in different countries. Although I did love Vika, we did not communicate well, and I was afraid to stress Vika with complicated conversations, so we were slowly degrading in each other’s company. It’s hard not to when you only seek pleasures in life. Natasha, on the other hand, was five years older than me, and we both were representatives of the last Soviet generation, who grew up and formed during the Soviet era. It seemed to me that Natasha and I somehow understood each other at once. She used to live in Smolensk and I, too, spent a part of my childhood there, and my father still lives there.

We had something to remember and talk about with Natasha. In many ways, this excessive talk and the feeling that you are being understood were caused by alcohol. I was so carried away by Natasha that I completely forgot about Vika’s mother, who unexpectedly reacted neutrally to the fact that her daughter had such an old fiancé. Formally, I could be considered a fiancé, because we had already spent about four years together at that point and had already lived together for a year.

After dinner, I was in high spirits and even wanted to take a walk on the Red Square, but when I saw that Natasha was barely standing on her feet, so Vika and I invited her to our apartment, as she would not reach home alone. I arranged a seasoned, fifty-year-old gipsy cab driver to take us home. On the way, Natasha laughed and demanded that she’d be provided with a man. I offered our taxi driver as a sex partner. Generally, I do not like representatives of cynical professions, such as cops, taxi drivers, prostitutes but the idea of the upcoming erotic show warmed me, and besides, what other way there is to calm down a raging woman, if not sex.

The taxi driver did not object to join our orgy and was even ready not to charge money for this trip on this occasion. And it can be understood: despite her 47 years, Natasha looked cool, and alcohol gave her some special, exquisite debauchery. Slutty, cheerful, well-groomed and beautiful blonde – I’m sure that the bull-taxi driver has not experienced this combination before. Initially, Natasha accepted the idea of having sex with an unknown taxi driver with restrained enthusiasm, but in the end, the latter was rejected.