Fuck ! My effort to down Kennedy did n't work.

I 've been trying to pour down her for a spell now, the big trouble is Kennedy does n't really exist. Kennedy International Airport is me, or at least one component part of my personality. It 's that part which Matt met first. It was that part that which he fell in love with, but never told me. She 's a gripe, and Matt likes that about her. I want to be me, I want to be Kiki, I 'm a much nicer person, and Matt likes that about me. Matt can get confused ( and confusing ) like that.

I thought I 'd finally killed her when we had a opportunity at a new beginning. We 'd spent two twelvemonth working in different cities, and commuting to see each former each calendar week. During that time, JFK had shown up periodically and been his perfect tense cunt, or made him her bitch. You probably do n't want to jazz what the kick did to him, or you 've read his accounts of that. I just wanted to be the unadulterated jade for matt, `` the slut '' is what Jack Kennedy calls me, I wear that recording label with pride.

We had our new beginning, flatness and I moved in together finally, and I invited Kennedy to link up us. I took back more of Kennedy International Airport 's personality for myself, those fleck that matt, and John Fitzgerald Kennedy, enjoy so a lot. And you know what, we both enjoyed it. He willingly let me ill-use him, I had so much fun doing that, and so did he. He never seems to savor what President John F. Kennedy does to him, enjoy is n't what he was looking for, but when I did those like things, he 'd get such a big grin, I was worried I was doing it wrongly. But, he assured me I was n't. I let myself revel it, and he enjoyed my enjoyment. We got a prissy big feedback loop going there, we both got off so much on it.

So why has Matt just sent Kennedy a text ? Of course, Kennedy has a separate figure, I got a burner for that. I thought it was theatrical role play, but I 'm never certain when it comes to Matt 's perceptions, he has strange means of looking at the world. Sometimes, I really am convinced he sees me and President John F. Kennedy as tell hoi polloi. The textual matter was simple, just `` ? ''. So I texted back asking what he wanted, and then `` Does n't the slut do that for you ? '' I mean, I did n't know what he wanted, that I was n't already doing to him.

It took him a patch to do that, and I stewed and worried, what was I doing incorrectly ? Then I got my answer, his response : `` She loves me. '' I really did laugh out loud at that, luckily he was n't in earshot when I got that. He does have some sense ( very little ), so when he 's arranging allotment with his mistress ( i.e. Jack Kennedy ), I 'm nowhere near. See what I mean about perceptions.

First, I 'm relieved, I 'm not doing anything wrong. As the song says, if loving you is amiss, I do n't want to be right. John Fitzgerald Kennedy is a heartless bitch, that 's how I, and she, would key her. She 'd wear that label with pride. But, now what am I supposed to do ?

I did the alone thing I could do, liberate the new Jack Kennedy. The new President John F. Kennedy was even More heartless, I 'd already taken nigh of her, there was little get out to be her. I was also pissed. That is not the decent frame of mind to record into a BDSM scene with, mea culpa. So the new Jack Kennedy was also pissed. My plan was to make thing so unpleasant, he 'd never want to see Kennedy again, talk about misreading a situation. I 'm supposed to be the one who can read affair like that.

I turned up unexpectedly, typical Kennedy Interrnational. Matt was working at dwelling, I transformed myself into Kennedy ( you know the trick SuperMan does with that field glass, so no one recognizes him, that 's how I do it. ) I just barged in and started being Kennedy. I was wearing the dominatrix kit I like. I was going to use the gymnastic horse whip he hates ( the one that had been a birthday present tense from Matt to Kennedy ), though he had let Kiki use it on him. That was another affair Kennedy was pissed about, that he 'd let Kiki use it, but not her. I told him I was doing it for my benefit, not his. I told him not to use the rubber word, or I 'd bequeath. I was surprised exactly how a great deal that turned him on. I made him secern me what he wanted me to do to him, he hates that, he just wants to be done to, without any input.

I did n't even tie him up ; he does bang being tied up. I even abused his balls ( with the whip ), he 's always been deathly afraid of me doing that. He still was, but he let me do it. However much I tried to realise it unpleasant for him, it just turned him on more. He has some very uncanny ideas, in some fetid corners of his nous, I was managing to tap into some of the least pleasant ones. I really should have been capable to show him better. I 'm supposed to be the one with the people skills, and flatness is the most transparent homo being on the planet. He surprised me there.

I also miscalculated how punishing to hit him, or I let my anger get the skillful of me. I laid into him as hard as I could, with the horsewhip on his buttocks. I was expecting the secure Scripture to derive out, and Kennedy would be dead. There was some screaming, then he was smooth, unresponsive. I 'd managed to place him right into sub quad. That 's an altered state of consciousness that submissives can get into when stressed. He usually gets there after going down on a lot of pussy.

I really did n't know what to do, but I reasoned that when he came out he 'd involve some TLC. I did n't want Kennedy to be there for that, so I changed back to being Kiki and roused him. He was really illustrative about how a lot he loved me when he was roused, totally high. I was gladiola President Kennedy was n't there for that, he seemed to be imprinting on me. It was only when he said how tasty my twat looked that I realized how turned on I was. Fucking hell, was I turned on. Being Kennedy and abusing lustrelessness will turn me on, and I 'm not that well-off with that. I 'd been so worried about him ; I did n't even realize I was turned on.

So I rode his face and came a few times, then blew him, that was when he finally snapped out of it, and he realized his butt detriment. I felt really guilty about that, I tried to be extra nice to him.

So now what ?

I tried again. This sentence I 'd make it so bad, he 'd never want to see John Fitzgerald Kennedy again. I took distinction, I worked out exactly how laborious I could drum him, and not give him slip into subspace. Then, Kennedy put in an appearance again. It went much the same as the first time, but this fourth dimension it hurt him. Again, I did n't tie him up, but he could n't cope with that. I 'd secernate him to keep his hands out of the way, but eventually he could n't. He covered his butt, and he cried even harder while apologizing to me for failing. I 'm not sure if the pain, or the unsuccessful person was worse for him. He 'd already been crying, Kennedy likes to reduce him to rent. He was so upset that he could n't do as he was told, I took pity on him and tied him up. Then, I beat him mercilessly.

And it turned me on. Again, I was surprised how lots it turned me on. JFK does get turned on by it, but exactly how much was a surprise. After about half an hour of the merciless torture, I could n't stand it anymore. I shoved my pussycat in his face, telling him, `` The Sooner I come, the sooner I get back to whipping you. ``

I was looking forward to one of his nice, long, slow down, teasing performances. Ye immortal, those are good. I was expecting him to want a time out, and I was offering him the prospect. He should have been able to keep me on edge for at least half an hour, but he got me off as quick as he could. That was just about instantly. God that was an mystify orgasm, I was n't expecting it, it just knocked me flat. What really got to me was the realization he actually wanted me to be so harsh to him.

As I said, I was not comfortable with the way Kennedy was treating him, and how it was turning me on. But, he just gave me permission to do that to him. I took his license and ran with it, once I managed to strike again after that coming. I 'd exhaust him until I could n't stand it any more, then get him to get me off. If I 'd sensed any hesitation in that, I could n't give carried on, but he was just as cracking as I was to get on with it. I must bear done that five times, his butt was a slew for days after that. Again, as Kiki, I felt shamefaced and was extra nice to him.

So I gave up on my attempts to kill Kennedy, I let her live my defective fantasy. You know what ? I know all his button, I know how to get to him. I can scent him up so badly, while turning myself on, that he 'll take it out on Kiki, on me. I love that, I ca n't usually get him to handle me like that without him bursting into tear. As practically as I hate Kennedy, she does cause her the States .