There is a cashier at my grocery store. Every time I get in line, she starts to glow. She doesn’t make eye contact but she talks to me non-stop about what I bought. When I talk back, she starts to blush. It doesn’t matter if I haven’t shaved in a few days, if I am wearing my Loch Ness Monster Adventure Club t-shirt or if my fucking WIFE is there, this cashier always acts the same when I am there. And when I leave, even my wife sees how much she deflates.
I don’t know why she has a crush on me. She seems awfully young and she’s not unattractive. Just from experience I can guess she’s insecure, she’s living with her parents and her one boyfriend was a dickhead. Somehow she thought I could rescue her and sweep her away from grocery cashier life. Or maybe I’m over thinking it and she just wants me to take her home one night.
The thing is, she doesn’t have any idea what that would mean. I look like a geek but I’m not the sweet and romantic type. Would she be willing to strip naked in my living room? Would she be willing to eat from a bowl for dinner? Would she kneel? Would she stay over my lap as I spanked her with paddles, crops and my hand? Would she let me tie her up with rope and duct tape? Would she listen to every dirty thing I told her? Would she let her nipples be clamped? Would she choke down my cock? Would she take my cock up her ass? Would keep her hips moving no matter how much every inch of her body hurt? Would she learn to love the pain as much as the climax? Would she smile as I cum on her face?
Would she obey?
I think about this every time I see her. And some days, I’m sure that she would do all of that and more if I ask her. It wouldn’t be her thing, and it would scare the shit out of her, but she would do it. She’d give up everything and anything if I would just take her home and away from whatever makes her so insecure and unhappy.
Some days that is awfully tempting.
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Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Erotica Alert Level: Silent Night Black
I'm tired. I worked hard last week to get work done in time for the holidays and then I spend 5 days with my wife. In that time we celebrated Thanksgiving and her birthday, as well as doing a million things that we said we would always do if we had the time.
My ass is tired.
Now it's Tuesday and I have the house to myself. Woot! Well, except for work but even work is a quiet comfort of stability. I have a million stories in my head and two million blog posts but I just need the quiet to write them.
Sweet blessed lovely quiet. That sounds so sexy today.
My ass is tired.
Now it's Tuesday and I have the house to myself. Woot! Well, except for work but even work is a quiet comfort of stability. I have a million stories in my head and two million blog posts but I just need the quiet to write them.
Sweet blessed lovely quiet. That sounds so sexy today.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Happy Birthday Mrs. Richards
My wife turns 33 today. That means I will be seriously away from keyboard all day today. Go have fun and enjoy my wife's birthday. Get creative.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Fiction: Thanksgiving at the Booty Lounge
It was a quiet night at the Booty Lounge. The crowd was less than a fifth of its normal size. It was Thanksgiving night, and most of our crew was away with their families, eating turkey with Mom, Dad, Aunt Embarrassing and Uncle Dickhead. Those of us who were here tonight either didn’t have families or through some twist of fate, didn’t have anywhere else to be other than a club known for bondage and debauchery.
You might think we would be having a blast, but the mood was somber, even depressed. Spankings were half-hearted, and when men came in the mouths of sluts, their groans were more sighs than expressions of joy. Flirtatious tarts didn’t smile, and submissive men found no comfort under a pointed heel.
To read more of this holiday tale, click Whole Post
Yes, we are sick, perverted fucks who spend 364 days a year thinking of our next delight, but on this night, our hearts yearned for the comfort that comes from being with a family that loves you. The fact that most of never had a family that loved us didn’t matter. We mourned for the family we all felt we should have had.
Our captain, No-Pants Wally, did his best to boost spirits. Five glorious turkeys filled our tables, and each one was given the name of a famous pirate. I ate from Anne Bonney myself. No-Pants imported exotic beer from foreign lands and filled our mugs with one strange flavor after another. The captain moved around constantly, playing the part of the good host a bit more than usual. He took responsibility for our cheer, and if you have never had a 6-foot-6 bearded man who never wears pants trying to cheer you up, then you have never truly lived. The captain’s honest happiness was infectious, but when he left a laughing group to attend to one sad fellow, the group that had been laughing would soon quiet, each member thinking lonely thoughts.
“Tom, I don’t fucking understand this shit,” No-Pants Wally confessed to me. “They have beer, they have food, and Christ on a stick, they could have cock and pussy if they would quit mooning like homesick sailors at sea! If they wanted to be so damned depressed, they could have stayed at home and jacked off to the Macy’s parade!”
“Captain, no matter how great the paradise, people will always miss what they feel everyone else has,” I said. “The rest of the world has aunts, uncles and gossip about Grandma’s new friends. Other people have children that look like them and cousins who are not doing as well as they are. They have food shared with people they have known all their lives. Not even you can compete with that.”
“Mermaids’ balls!” No-Pants bellowed. “They also have jealous siblings and screaming brats who won’t shut up no matter how hard you kick them! Father-fucking bastards forget how good they have it here!”
The captain slammed his fist out and stormed into his quarters. A moment later, he came out brandishing an enormous cock. No, not the lengthy piece of manhood that always dangles between his legs. This was a polished piece of oak, 12 magnificent inches in length and as thick as sin. Captain No-Pants grabbed a stool and put the stool in the center of the room. He set the dildo pointing straight up on the stool.
“Busty Linda carved this for me, but since this is the holidays I’m going to give you sorry bunch of sad sacks of flesh a chance to win this. Which of you cock-hungry sluts want a chance to win what could be the biggest cock you ever put inside you?”
The crew came to life. Busty Linda made the finest dildos of all of us. Like any true artist, she doesn’t give her work away cheaply. She makes us pay in cash, tongue or ass for her glorious dildos. A chance to win one without having to submit to Linda’s sadistic requests was enough to shake even this group out of its malaise.
“I will!” Silent Bonnie said.
“I will, too,” James the Hairy said.
Six women and three men volunteered, and the rest of us gathered around to watch. No-Pants Wally looked at the contestants, and he looked at the cock. He came up with a game in less than a minute, which of course, is why he is the captain.
“We’re going to play Hands on the Hard Cock,” No-Pants yelled. “The rules are fucking simple. Keep your hand on the cock, and if you take your hand off, you lose. Be the last one with your hand on the cock ,and you get to keep it. Only other rule is no fighting! I’m looking at you, Robert! You got to stand there and keep a firm grip!”
Each of the players grabbed as much of the cock as they could. They had to crowd around the stool so they could all touch it. At first, I was worried that we wouldn’t be able to see when someone let go of the cock, but I saw that all the players were staring at the cock. When someone does let go, eight other people will be yelling for joy.
“Now, I don’t know about you, but personally I think the Duchess is going to win,” No-Pants said. “And I’ll bet the use of my bedroom for one night against anyone who thinks differently!”
“I’ll take that bet,” Michelle said. “And I’ll bet the use of my girlfriend for one night.”
“Anyone else want to pick a favorite?” No-Pants asked, and just like that, the rest of us were involved. Being the scribe of the crew, I wrote down everyone’s bet till the list was a pool of carnal favors and delights. For the record, I bet I would write the account of what the winner did with his loot. If there is something all perverts loves, it is having their exploits recorded for bragging about later.
As for my bet? I bet on James the Hairy. I’ve never seen him let go of a cock. When he doesn’t have one to grab, he holds his own. The man was born with a cock in his hand, which probably made his birth somewhat complicated.
The mood was much better as we watched the contest unfold. Bets made, the gamblers shifted to trash-talking the other players while praising their own. The players glowed under the attention. Rarely had they received so much encouragement for holding a cock.
Beer-Can Carl was the first to lose. He had to sneeze, and being a gentleman, he instinctively used his hand to cover his mouth. We all got a good laugh out of the shocked look on his face when he realized what he’d done. Silent Bonnie, who was standing in front of him, offered to blow him later in thanks for his not sneezing on her bare back. He was a happy loser.
The other losers followed in their own way. Natalie lost because she’d had too much beer to drink and wasn’t quite willing to piss herself to win. Two lost because their need to sit down overwhelmed their urge to win. Robert lost his grip when James cracked a joke so dirty that Robert doubled over laughing. As each person let go, he or she was welcomed into the crowd of spectators with consolation beer and sympathy hand jobs.
The game changed when James was eliminated. He was the last guy standing there, and the Duchess pinched his ass. James squealed like a college freshman and jumped 3 feet in the air. We all laughed, and James’s face blushed so deep you could see the red through his black beard.
“No fair!” James whined. “There was supposed to be no touching!”
We looked to the captain for a ruling. “No, I said no fighting. You can touch all you want if you think you can win.”
A sultry whimsy rippled through us all. There were only three girls left. Ten-Inch Vicky was a tall blonde whose ass was legendary for the depths cocks and dildos have reached. The Duchess was an older lady whose slender body and firm legs were the envy of women half her age. Last was Silent Bonnie, a short brunette who has never made a sound when she climaxed no matter how many mouths have tried. If they took advantage of the captain’s suggestion, things would get very interesting indeed.
The Duchess, the one who’d pinched James, took to the new rules immediately. She was in front of Silent Bonnie and slipped her hand under Bonnie’ T-shirt. The sheer material provided no cover as the Duchess squeezed and caressed Bonnie’s breast. We watched as she pulled and tugged on Bonnie’s nipples.
Behind Bonnie, Ten-Inch Vicky was going to work. Being taller than Bonnie, it was easy to bend down and bite the woman’s ear. With a tenderness we rarely see at the Booty Lounge, Ten-Inch nibbled Bonnie’s ear. Maybe she also whispered something to Bonnie that only they could hear. That would certainly explain why Bonnie closed her eyes and bit her lip.
Sensing weakness, the Duchess let go of Bonnie’s breast and reached between the woman’s thighs. Her hand slipped into Bonnie’s black bikini bottom and manipulated her cunt directly. Bonnie tried fighting back by reaching for the Duchess’s breast, but that was probably the wrong idea. When two women are double-teaming you, grabbing for one of their breasts is not the best way to calm yourself down.
Ten-Inch and the Duchess worked Bonnie over. Bonnie was trapped between two sets of mouths and hands. While the Duchess masturbated Bonnie, Vicky reached around to fondle Bonnie’s breasts. While Vicky nibbled on Bonnie’s neck, the Duchess would bite through Bonnie’s T-shirt to harass her nipples. While Bonnie writhed, her two tormentors writhed on either side of her.
Bonnie’s breathing changed and Ten-Inch’s hand joined the Duchess’s between her thighs. Two hands masturbated Bonnie while the woman’s own hand kept a white knuckled grip on the 12-inch cock. We watched the orgasm build within Bonnie as the her knees began to shake. It was coming, and we all knew it.
That was when Bonnie screamed. She yelled her bliss and the nearly-empty Booty Lounge echoed with her cry. We’d finally learned the secret to making Silent Bonnie not be silent. She let go of the cock and wrapped her arms around the other girls as her legs gave out. James and Beer-Can Carl rushed forward to help Bonnie to her feet. It wasn’t chivalry that inspired them; they just didn’t want her to drag the last two players from the game.
Ten-Inch Vicky and the Duchess looked at each other. Their free hands were sticky with Screaming Bonnie’s juices. Each was sizing the other up, looking for an advantage. The Duchess had the disadvantage as she was wearing a loose red dress that barely came down to her ass. Ten-Inch was wearing shorts, which protected her cunt, but the tightness of her shorts made one wonder if they really provided any coverage. Ten-Inch was topless, which displayed her lovely breasts but also made them easy targets. Both of them hesitated, waiting for some sort of clever strategy to come to them.
Of course, Captain No-Pants couldn’t let this stand. “Whichever wench loses has to walk the plank,” he said. “Which means the loser has to suck or lick everyone here tonight!”
“Hey!” Princess Stan protested.
“Well, of course not those who are light in the boots,” Captain No-Pants amended. “How about they clean your boots?”
“Deal!” Princess Stan said.
That was the incentive the last two needed. Still holding onto the cock, they lunged for each other. Ten-Inch went straight for the Duchess’s cunt, reaching under her dress and rubbing her clit. The Duchess groaned, but she decided to just go for the treasure chest in front of her and bit down on Ten-Inch’s bared nipple. Ten-Inch screamed, but she was made of sterner stuff. She gritted her teeth and frigged the Duchess with a fury that made some of us wince.
“I’ve had worse from frat boys,” the Duchess taunted. I had a sudden image of the elegant matron bent over for a frat-party gangbang, and I made a note to ask the Duchess more about her past.
“Bite the other one, too,” Ten-Inch said. “It itches.”
The watchers laughed, but we all saw the anger on the Duchess’s face. Her mouth snapped to the other breast, and she bit down like a great white. We cheered as the Duchess gobbled Ten-Inch’s tit. The grand old lady was merciless, several times pulling back with Ten-Inch’s tit trapped between her teeth, and we watched to see how far the nipple would stretch.
Ten-Inch was suffering. Her ass could take anything, but her breasts were not as durable. She let go of the Duchess’s pussy and changed tactics. She grabbed a handful of the Duchess’s silver hair and pulled the older woman off her tit. The Duchess looked as though she were going to protest, but Ten-Inch ended her protest with a kiss. The two locked lips, transferring all of their competitive fire into a battle of tongues.
Ever heard a kiss as loud as angry sex? It’s a very sensual sound. It was like listening to cunts rub together on a leather couch.
Just because they were kissing didn’t mean they had stopped playing the game. Oh, no. Ten-Inch slipped her hand back between the Duchess’s thighs, and the Duchess did the same. The shorts provided no protection as the Duchess rubbed Ten-Inch with a firm touch most of us knew well. Ten-Inch even helped, spreading her thighs and giving in to the attention. Before long, it was hard to see who was rubbing and who was humping her competitor’s hand.
Captain No-Pants could feel the end coming. He got up and walked over to the players. His usual bellow was now a low growl as he urged them on.
“Hold on tight to that cock, wenches,” he said. “Hold on tight because the loser will have a long night ahead of her. Cocks and cunts will use your fucking mouth till sunrise. You think your hand is sore? Just wait till your lips are tingling from half a dozen pussies fucking your mouth. And don’t think the winner gets off easy, either. Oh, no, no, no. You’ll be taking that cock right here for us all to see. We’re going to all watch your victory fuck, and we demand a good show.”
The two rubbed harder. They kissed with more passion. Both of them gripped the dildo tighter as they both moaned louder and louder. The two wenches fucked each other for the glory of winning and in wicked anticipation of losing. No matter what happened, they knew they would both be fucked for our enjoyment. Just knowing that they were the center of this holiday night pushed both of them to try harder.
The Duchess climaxed. Her body shook and trembled, but still she held on. We were perfectly quiet. Would an orgasm make her give up? The tension was amazing. It was like watching an egg roll along a table, not knowing if it was going to stop in time or fall off and crash. The Duchess tried to hold on, but Ten-Inch Vicky kept stroking her, and after one long trembling minute, the Duchess pushed away from Ten-Inch with both hands and flopped down onto the floor. It was only then I noticed how much both ladies were sweating. Holding a cock is hard work.
“We have a winner!” the Captain yelled. The truth was, we had all won. Gone were the moping and whining about the families we weren’t with. We had drowned our sorrow in sweat, gambling and competition. We had reminded ourselves that we are not like other people, and that was a damn good thing.
We all cheered Ten-Inch Vicky, but I think we were also cheering ourselves. Someone figured out who’d won the betting pool. It turns out it that David and Nancy won the bet so they had to figure how to share the winnings. The captain was already dragging Ten-Inch to the bar where James was waiting with Vaseline. Before the night was out, we started calling her Twelve-Inch Vicki.
I didn’t care about these details. My cock was hard, and I was standing where the Duchess had crawled. She first noticed me when I grabbed her hair and pulled her to my crotch.
“Tough break; you did good,” I said to her.
She said something, but I couldn’t understand her. My cock was already in her mouth. The Duchess groaned. She sucked as hard as she played, which made her one great cocksucker. I fucked her face not as a punishment but as my way of giving thanks for her role in saving us from ourselves. I’m not sure, but I think she was smiling when I came down her throat.
That was one down for the Duchess and the rest of the Booty Lounge to go.
The end.
You might think we would be having a blast, but the mood was somber, even depressed. Spankings were half-hearted, and when men came in the mouths of sluts, their groans were more sighs than expressions of joy. Flirtatious tarts didn’t smile, and submissive men found no comfort under a pointed heel.
To read more of this holiday tale, click Whole Post
Yes, we are sick, perverted fucks who spend 364 days a year thinking of our next delight, but on this night, our hearts yearned for the comfort that comes from being with a family that loves you. The fact that most of never had a family that loved us didn’t matter. We mourned for the family we all felt we should have had.
Our captain, No-Pants Wally, did his best to boost spirits. Five glorious turkeys filled our tables, and each one was given the name of a famous pirate. I ate from Anne Bonney myself. No-Pants imported exotic beer from foreign lands and filled our mugs with one strange flavor after another. The captain moved around constantly, playing the part of the good host a bit more than usual. He took responsibility for our cheer, and if you have never had a 6-foot-6 bearded man who never wears pants trying to cheer you up, then you have never truly lived. The captain’s honest happiness was infectious, but when he left a laughing group to attend to one sad fellow, the group that had been laughing would soon quiet, each member thinking lonely thoughts.
“Tom, I don’t fucking understand this shit,” No-Pants Wally confessed to me. “They have beer, they have food, and Christ on a stick, they could have cock and pussy if they would quit mooning like homesick sailors at sea! If they wanted to be so damned depressed, they could have stayed at home and jacked off to the Macy’s parade!”
“Captain, no matter how great the paradise, people will always miss what they feel everyone else has,” I said. “The rest of the world has aunts, uncles and gossip about Grandma’s new friends. Other people have children that look like them and cousins who are not doing as well as they are. They have food shared with people they have known all their lives. Not even you can compete with that.”
“Mermaids’ balls!” No-Pants bellowed. “They also have jealous siblings and screaming brats who won’t shut up no matter how hard you kick them! Father-fucking bastards forget how good they have it here!”
The captain slammed his fist out and stormed into his quarters. A moment later, he came out brandishing an enormous cock. No, not the lengthy piece of manhood that always dangles between his legs. This was a polished piece of oak, 12 magnificent inches in length and as thick as sin. Captain No-Pants grabbed a stool and put the stool in the center of the room. He set the dildo pointing straight up on the stool.
“Busty Linda carved this for me, but since this is the holidays I’m going to give you sorry bunch of sad sacks of flesh a chance to win this. Which of you cock-hungry sluts want a chance to win what could be the biggest cock you ever put inside you?”
The crew came to life. Busty Linda made the finest dildos of all of us. Like any true artist, she doesn’t give her work away cheaply. She makes us pay in cash, tongue or ass for her glorious dildos. A chance to win one without having to submit to Linda’s sadistic requests was enough to shake even this group out of its malaise.
“I will!” Silent Bonnie said.
“I will, too,” James the Hairy said.
Six women and three men volunteered, and the rest of us gathered around to watch. No-Pants Wally looked at the contestants, and he looked at the cock. He came up with a game in less than a minute, which of course, is why he is the captain.
“We’re going to play Hands on the Hard Cock,” No-Pants yelled. “The rules are fucking simple. Keep your hand on the cock, and if you take your hand off, you lose. Be the last one with your hand on the cock ,and you get to keep it. Only other rule is no fighting! I’m looking at you, Robert! You got to stand there and keep a firm grip!”
Each of the players grabbed as much of the cock as they could. They had to crowd around the stool so they could all touch it. At first, I was worried that we wouldn’t be able to see when someone let go of the cock, but I saw that all the players were staring at the cock. When someone does let go, eight other people will be yelling for joy.
“Now, I don’t know about you, but personally I think the Duchess is going to win,” No-Pants said. “And I’ll bet the use of my bedroom for one night against anyone who thinks differently!”
“I’ll take that bet,” Michelle said. “And I’ll bet the use of my girlfriend for one night.”
“Anyone else want to pick a favorite?” No-Pants asked, and just like that, the rest of us were involved. Being the scribe of the crew, I wrote down everyone’s bet till the list was a pool of carnal favors and delights. For the record, I bet I would write the account of what the winner did with his loot. If there is something all perverts loves, it is having their exploits recorded for bragging about later.
As for my bet? I bet on James the Hairy. I’ve never seen him let go of a cock. When he doesn’t have one to grab, he holds his own. The man was born with a cock in his hand, which probably made his birth somewhat complicated.
The mood was much better as we watched the contest unfold. Bets made, the gamblers shifted to trash-talking the other players while praising their own. The players glowed under the attention. Rarely had they received so much encouragement for holding a cock.
Beer-Can Carl was the first to lose. He had to sneeze, and being a gentleman, he instinctively used his hand to cover his mouth. We all got a good laugh out of the shocked look on his face when he realized what he’d done. Silent Bonnie, who was standing in front of him, offered to blow him later in thanks for his not sneezing on her bare back. He was a happy loser.
The other losers followed in their own way. Natalie lost because she’d had too much beer to drink and wasn’t quite willing to piss herself to win. Two lost because their need to sit down overwhelmed their urge to win. Robert lost his grip when James cracked a joke so dirty that Robert doubled over laughing. As each person let go, he or she was welcomed into the crowd of spectators with consolation beer and sympathy hand jobs.
The game changed when James was eliminated. He was the last guy standing there, and the Duchess pinched his ass. James squealed like a college freshman and jumped 3 feet in the air. We all laughed, and James’s face blushed so deep you could see the red through his black beard.
“No fair!” James whined. “There was supposed to be no touching!”
We looked to the captain for a ruling. “No, I said no fighting. You can touch all you want if you think you can win.”
A sultry whimsy rippled through us all. There were only three girls left. Ten-Inch Vicky was a tall blonde whose ass was legendary for the depths cocks and dildos have reached. The Duchess was an older lady whose slender body and firm legs were the envy of women half her age. Last was Silent Bonnie, a short brunette who has never made a sound when she climaxed no matter how many mouths have tried. If they took advantage of the captain’s suggestion, things would get very interesting indeed.
The Duchess, the one who’d pinched James, took to the new rules immediately. She was in front of Silent Bonnie and slipped her hand under Bonnie’ T-shirt. The sheer material provided no cover as the Duchess squeezed and caressed Bonnie’s breast. We watched as she pulled and tugged on Bonnie’s nipples.
Behind Bonnie, Ten-Inch Vicky was going to work. Being taller than Bonnie, it was easy to bend down and bite the woman’s ear. With a tenderness we rarely see at the Booty Lounge, Ten-Inch nibbled Bonnie’s ear. Maybe she also whispered something to Bonnie that only they could hear. That would certainly explain why Bonnie closed her eyes and bit her lip.
Sensing weakness, the Duchess let go of Bonnie’s breast and reached between the woman’s thighs. Her hand slipped into Bonnie’s black bikini bottom and manipulated her cunt directly. Bonnie tried fighting back by reaching for the Duchess’s breast, but that was probably the wrong idea. When two women are double-teaming you, grabbing for one of their breasts is not the best way to calm yourself down.
Ten-Inch and the Duchess worked Bonnie over. Bonnie was trapped between two sets of mouths and hands. While the Duchess masturbated Bonnie, Vicky reached around to fondle Bonnie’s breasts. While Vicky nibbled on Bonnie’s neck, the Duchess would bite through Bonnie’s T-shirt to harass her nipples. While Bonnie writhed, her two tormentors writhed on either side of her.
Bonnie’s breathing changed and Ten-Inch’s hand joined the Duchess’s between her thighs. Two hands masturbated Bonnie while the woman’s own hand kept a white knuckled grip on the 12-inch cock. We watched the orgasm build within Bonnie as the her knees began to shake. It was coming, and we all knew it.
That was when Bonnie screamed. She yelled her bliss and the nearly-empty Booty Lounge echoed with her cry. We’d finally learned the secret to making Silent Bonnie not be silent. She let go of the cock and wrapped her arms around the other girls as her legs gave out. James and Beer-Can Carl rushed forward to help Bonnie to her feet. It wasn’t chivalry that inspired them; they just didn’t want her to drag the last two players from the game.
Ten-Inch Vicky and the Duchess looked at each other. Their free hands were sticky with Screaming Bonnie’s juices. Each was sizing the other up, looking for an advantage. The Duchess had the disadvantage as she was wearing a loose red dress that barely came down to her ass. Ten-Inch was wearing shorts, which protected her cunt, but the tightness of her shorts made one wonder if they really provided any coverage. Ten-Inch was topless, which displayed her lovely breasts but also made them easy targets. Both of them hesitated, waiting for some sort of clever strategy to come to them.
Of course, Captain No-Pants couldn’t let this stand. “Whichever wench loses has to walk the plank,” he said. “Which means the loser has to suck or lick everyone here tonight!”
“Hey!” Princess Stan protested.
“Well, of course not those who are light in the boots,” Captain No-Pants amended. “How about they clean your boots?”
“Deal!” Princess Stan said.
That was the incentive the last two needed. Still holding onto the cock, they lunged for each other. Ten-Inch went straight for the Duchess’s cunt, reaching under her dress and rubbing her clit. The Duchess groaned, but she decided to just go for the treasure chest in front of her and bit down on Ten-Inch’s bared nipple. Ten-Inch screamed, but she was made of sterner stuff. She gritted her teeth and frigged the Duchess with a fury that made some of us wince.
“I’ve had worse from frat boys,” the Duchess taunted. I had a sudden image of the elegant matron bent over for a frat-party gangbang, and I made a note to ask the Duchess more about her past.
“Bite the other one, too,” Ten-Inch said. “It itches.”
The watchers laughed, but we all saw the anger on the Duchess’s face. Her mouth snapped to the other breast, and she bit down like a great white. We cheered as the Duchess gobbled Ten-Inch’s tit. The grand old lady was merciless, several times pulling back with Ten-Inch’s tit trapped between her teeth, and we watched to see how far the nipple would stretch.
Ten-Inch was suffering. Her ass could take anything, but her breasts were not as durable. She let go of the Duchess’s pussy and changed tactics. She grabbed a handful of the Duchess’s silver hair and pulled the older woman off her tit. The Duchess looked as though she were going to protest, but Ten-Inch ended her protest with a kiss. The two locked lips, transferring all of their competitive fire into a battle of tongues.
Ever heard a kiss as loud as angry sex? It’s a very sensual sound. It was like listening to cunts rub together on a leather couch.
Just because they were kissing didn’t mean they had stopped playing the game. Oh, no. Ten-Inch slipped her hand back between the Duchess’s thighs, and the Duchess did the same. The shorts provided no protection as the Duchess rubbed Ten-Inch with a firm touch most of us knew well. Ten-Inch even helped, spreading her thighs and giving in to the attention. Before long, it was hard to see who was rubbing and who was humping her competitor’s hand.
Captain No-Pants could feel the end coming. He got up and walked over to the players. His usual bellow was now a low growl as he urged them on.
“Hold on tight to that cock, wenches,” he said. “Hold on tight because the loser will have a long night ahead of her. Cocks and cunts will use your fucking mouth till sunrise. You think your hand is sore? Just wait till your lips are tingling from half a dozen pussies fucking your mouth. And don’t think the winner gets off easy, either. Oh, no, no, no. You’ll be taking that cock right here for us all to see. We’re going to all watch your victory fuck, and we demand a good show.”
The two rubbed harder. They kissed with more passion. Both of them gripped the dildo tighter as they both moaned louder and louder. The two wenches fucked each other for the glory of winning and in wicked anticipation of losing. No matter what happened, they knew they would both be fucked for our enjoyment. Just knowing that they were the center of this holiday night pushed both of them to try harder.
The Duchess climaxed. Her body shook and trembled, but still she held on. We were perfectly quiet. Would an orgasm make her give up? The tension was amazing. It was like watching an egg roll along a table, not knowing if it was going to stop in time or fall off and crash. The Duchess tried to hold on, but Ten-Inch Vicky kept stroking her, and after one long trembling minute, the Duchess pushed away from Ten-Inch with both hands and flopped down onto the floor. It was only then I noticed how much both ladies were sweating. Holding a cock is hard work.
“We have a winner!” the Captain yelled. The truth was, we had all won. Gone were the moping and whining about the families we weren’t with. We had drowned our sorrow in sweat, gambling and competition. We had reminded ourselves that we are not like other people, and that was a damn good thing.
We all cheered Ten-Inch Vicky, but I think we were also cheering ourselves. Someone figured out who’d won the betting pool. It turns out it that David and Nancy won the bet so they had to figure how to share the winnings. The captain was already dragging Ten-Inch to the bar where James was waiting with Vaseline. Before the night was out, we started calling her Twelve-Inch Vicki.
I didn’t care about these details. My cock was hard, and I was standing where the Duchess had crawled. She first noticed me when I grabbed her hair and pulled her to my crotch.
“Tough break; you did good,” I said to her.
She said something, but I couldn’t understand her. My cock was already in her mouth. The Duchess groaned. She sucked as hard as she played, which made her one great cocksucker. I fucked her face not as a punishment but as my way of giving thanks for her role in saving us from ourselves. I’m not sure, but I think she was smiling when I came down her throat.
That was one down for the Duchess and the rest of the Booty Lounge to go.
The end.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Thanksgiving Thanks
New story tomorrow if work would leave me alone for ten minutes. Well, really I need about three hours but that sounds so unreasonable. Three whole hours? The world economy would grind to a halt! Children would starve! Buildings would collapse! Bosses would faint!
Anyway, I know it's a day early but I would like to take a moment and express what I am thankful for this Thanksgiving.
I am thankful for you, the readers. This year I got back into writing and to my shock, you were there. You appeared to enjoy it and you filled my blog with lovely comments and my e-mail with naked pictures. You read my fiction, my rants, my flights of fancy and the details of my bizarre life here in Atlanta. That blows my mind.
More strangely, you enjoyed my work so much, that you shared it with your friends. I get so many e-mails that start off with, "A friend of mine sent me your Cell Phone Slave..." and that tickles me to no end. Liking erotica is one thing, but recommending it is almost a carnal act. I feel like I was in a threesome of the minds.
Having this blog has really helped me in my return to writing and your readership keeps this blog alive. Thank you for stopping by and thank you for coming back tomorrow.
Anyway, I know it's a day early but I would like to take a moment and express what I am thankful for this Thanksgiving.
I am thankful for you, the readers. This year I got back into writing and to my shock, you were there. You appeared to enjoy it and you filled my blog with lovely comments and my e-mail with naked pictures. You read my fiction, my rants, my flights of fancy and the details of my bizarre life here in Atlanta. That blows my mind.
More strangely, you enjoyed my work so much, that you shared it with your friends. I get so many e-mails that start off with, "A friend of mine sent me your Cell Phone Slave..." and that tickles me to no end. Liking erotica is one thing, but recommending it is almost a carnal act. I feel like I was in a threesome of the minds.
Having this blog has really helped me in my return to writing and your readership keeps this blog alive. Thank you for stopping by and thank you for coming back tomorrow.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Video Erotica
As Storm once said, "Are you ready for the gospel according to Cyndi Lauper?
The fact that I haven't written a story inspired by this video yet is a crime.
I saw this on Fleshbot months ago and I still find myself fascinated by it. I have found that Placebo makes great erotic writing music.
Clones, nurses and clones.
Can you tell I'm writing today?
The fact that I haven't written a story inspired by this video yet is a crime.
I saw this on Fleshbot months ago and I still find myself fascinated by it. I have found that Placebo makes great erotic writing music.
Clones, nurses and clones.
Can you tell I'm writing today?
Monday, November 20, 2006
Magic Words
"May I come?"
No matter when I hear that, if I am on the phone, if I am sitting beside her, or if I am inside her, hearing those three words just brings me to life. For one glorious moment I am a God of Sex, both benevolent and cruel. That simple asking for permission makes a limp cock hard and makes a hard cock into granite.
Sometimes I say no just to hear that whimper of loss. The act of denying the orgasm just made the orgasm that much greater. It is now a mythical thing, like presents on a birthday, or like a huge tax refund, or a kiss from someone beautiful. That orgasm I just forbade them from having is now ten times better than the orgasm they could have had. Even if later, they sneak off and have the orgasm anyway, it's a tainted orgasm. It will never be as good as the one I could have given them.
Now thank me for my cruelty with your mouth, breasts and cunt.
Sometimes I say yes just to hear the gratitude. The act of permitting the orgasm has now turned the orgasm into a blessing. It is a gift that I give to the submissive. She can surrender to her body and ride the orgasm that comes from attention, care and love. That curling of the toes? That clenching of the eyes? That arching of the back? I did that.
Now thank me for my generosity with your mouth, breasts and cunt.
No matter when I hear that, if I am on the phone, if I am sitting beside her, or if I am inside her, hearing those three words just brings me to life. For one glorious moment I am a God of Sex, both benevolent and cruel. That simple asking for permission makes a limp cock hard and makes a hard cock into granite.
Sometimes I say no just to hear that whimper of loss. The act of denying the orgasm just made the orgasm that much greater. It is now a mythical thing, like presents on a birthday, or like a huge tax refund, or a kiss from someone beautiful. That orgasm I just forbade them from having is now ten times better than the orgasm they could have had. Even if later, they sneak off and have the orgasm anyway, it's a tainted orgasm. It will never be as good as the one I could have given them.
Now thank me for my cruelty with your mouth, breasts and cunt.
Sometimes I say yes just to hear the gratitude. The act of permitting the orgasm has now turned the orgasm into a blessing. It is a gift that I give to the submissive. She can surrender to her body and ride the orgasm that comes from attention, care and love. That curling of the toes? That clenching of the eyes? That arching of the back? I did that.
Now thank me for my generosity with your mouth, breasts and cunt.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Afterglow Movie Review- Casino Royale
Years ago, comic book companies realized that having 50+ years of comic history was a deterrent for getting new fans. A new reader had literally a decade of work to catch up on if they really wanted to understand why it is so important that Green Goblin’s fifth bastard child was such a menace to Spider-Man. So comic companies did something a little brave and created new universes that were essentially updated reboots of their best characters.
They started their characters over but they kept them in modern times. And since we are no longer in Cold War America, we can update the jobs, the politics and dynamics of these characters for today’s readers. Housewives are now media stars, test pilots are now extreme sports athletes and scientists are still scientists because they will always be cool.
When comics started doing this, their fans were pretty hostile. They liked that there is so much history. They like that new readers need to do their homework. They were also defensive of the past and change is scary damn it. To the fans’ horror though, these modern reboots were terribly successful. People who could give a rat’s ass about Spider-Man suddenly sympathized with a kid who was having a ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ kind of life. They could relate to him because they got to see him tick in a way they could relate to.
Which is what makes ‘Casino Royale’ such a great Bond movie. The movie is set in modern times and Bond has just gotten his license to kill. M isn’t sure he’s cut out for it and Bond himself is a little pessimistic that he can’t do the job. It occurred to me that even though Bond has over thirty years of movie history, he’s never had a real origin story.
The other thing that makes ‘Casino Royale’ great is this is the first time we have a story that’s less about giant lasers and more about the character development of Bond. He’s human in this movie, with a lot of traits we associate as his good points now viewed as the flaws they really are. He’s a killer, he’s arrogant and his witty quips all come from a very dark place. This movie is about the toll it takes to be James Bond, told in a way that is more of a tragedy and less of a therapy session. There is a lot of humor in the movie but underlying it all is the sense that being the world’s greatest secret agent is really a bitch at the end of the day.
I do wonder if the fans can take it though. There was something great about the Sean Connery, Roger Moore and Pierce Bronsan period in that Bond was more of a myth than a person. He could do anything, fuck any woman and the only tragedy was when a minor character who’s name you have already forgotten gets killed by the bad guy and his peculiar henchman. I loved those stories, and quite a few of my stories were inspired by the audacity inherent in those movies but I can’t help but feel that we have already seen the greatest stories of that kind of Bond. GoldenEye and Goldfinger already gave us the biggest over top stories possible in this genre to the point that when you watch them, they are almost parodies of themselves.
So in closing, change is good. Embrace 'Casino Royale' not only because it’s a great movie on it’s own, but embrace it because we have a new way to enjoy James Bond.
They started their characters over but they kept them in modern times. And since we are no longer in Cold War America, we can update the jobs, the politics and dynamics of these characters for today’s readers. Housewives are now media stars, test pilots are now extreme sports athletes and scientists are still scientists because they will always be cool.
When comics started doing this, their fans were pretty hostile. They liked that there is so much history. They like that new readers need to do their homework. They were also defensive of the past and change is scary damn it. To the fans’ horror though, these modern reboots were terribly successful. People who could give a rat’s ass about Spider-Man suddenly sympathized with a kid who was having a ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ kind of life. They could relate to him because they got to see him tick in a way they could relate to.
Which is what makes ‘Casino Royale’ such a great Bond movie. The movie is set in modern times and Bond has just gotten his license to kill. M isn’t sure he’s cut out for it and Bond himself is a little pessimistic that he can’t do the job. It occurred to me that even though Bond has over thirty years of movie history, he’s never had a real origin story.
The other thing that makes ‘Casino Royale’ great is this is the first time we have a story that’s less about giant lasers and more about the character development of Bond. He’s human in this movie, with a lot of traits we associate as his good points now viewed as the flaws they really are. He’s a killer, he’s arrogant and his witty quips all come from a very dark place. This movie is about the toll it takes to be James Bond, told in a way that is more of a tragedy and less of a therapy session. There is a lot of humor in the movie but underlying it all is the sense that being the world’s greatest secret agent is really a bitch at the end of the day.
I do wonder if the fans can take it though. There was something great about the Sean Connery, Roger Moore and Pierce Bronsan period in that Bond was more of a myth than a person. He could do anything, fuck any woman and the only tragedy was when a minor character who’s name you have already forgotten gets killed by the bad guy and his peculiar henchman. I loved those stories, and quite a few of my stories were inspired by the audacity inherent in those movies but I can’t help but feel that we have already seen the greatest stories of that kind of Bond. GoldenEye and Goldfinger already gave us the biggest over top stories possible in this genre to the point that when you watch them, they are almost parodies of themselves.
So in closing, change is good. Embrace 'Casino Royale' not only because it’s a great movie on it’s own, but embrace it because we have a new way to enjoy James Bond.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Erotic Alert Level: Cold Shower Blue
My DSL has been up and down more times than a slutty cheerleader. Since I work from home by the hour, this is literally costing me money. The frustrating/amusing part is that Bellsouth doesn't have employees who work in this country who can handle my problems. Instead I get the nicest Indian people on the face of the planet who very kindly do their best, but their best is reading from a FAQ.
Side note- When I say they are nice, you have no idea. The first guy thanked me profusely for being a great customer and the second support person told me that it made her day to work with me. I swear I feel like if I call in again, someone will offer me their oldest daughter.
So anyway, I haven't been able to get much writing done and in the time it took to WRITE THIS POST, my DSL went out and came back. So wish me luck that come Monday things are back to normal and I can give you some more porn.
Side note- When I say they are nice, you have no idea. The first guy thanked me profusely for being a great customer and the second support person told me that it made her day to work with me. I swear I feel like if I call in again, someone will offer me their oldest daughter.
So anyway, I haven't been able to get much writing done and in the time it took to WRITE THIS POST, my DSL went out and came back. So wish me luck that come Monday things are back to normal and I can give you some more porn.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Fiction: Consequence Book Club
“Daryl was an idiot,” Michelle said.
“That’s not true,” Tammy said. It was easy to defend her ex-boyfriend. She’d been defending him from her friends for close to a year. Even though the asshole had cheated on her, Tammy lapsed back into the habit of sticking up for him. It was her lunch hour and Michelle had been nice enough to come across town just to meet Tammy and hear her whine about Daryl. Tammy felt she should have let Michelle tear him down, but old habits died hard.
“Tammy, listen,” Michelle started. “The jerk never respected your intelligence. How many times have you told me how he snubbed your opinion anytime you tried to give it? The boy treated you like a dumb blonde, and that wasn’t right.”
“How smart could I have been to be with him?” Tammy said. “Maybe I’m not that bright after all.”
Michelle growled. She was never one to indulge in self-pity, and she didn’t tolerate it in others. Tammy’s best friend chewed her lip for a minute while Tammy waited for her to yell. Instead, Michelle came to some sort of a decision and fished out a card from her purse.
“I wasn’t going to tell you about this, but I think you need it,” she said.
Tammy looked at the card and smirked. It said “Consequence Book Club” and had an address.
“A book club?” Tammy said. “That’s going to get me over Daryl?”
To discover what the book club is about click Whole Post
“It’s a different kind of book club,” Michelle said. “You need to be in an environment where you actually get to use your brains for something other than thinking about Daryl. Our next meeting is this Friday, and our book this time is ‘Gone With the Wind.’ Get off your moping ass and read it before then, and you can come with me.”
“I don’t know, Michelle,” Tammy said. “I read it years ago, but today is Monday. I won’t have time to reread it before Friday.”
Michelle took Tammy’s hand and squeezed it. “Tammy, just do it, OK? Trust me on this one.”
She couldn’t say no. “All right. If you really think it will help.”
“Good,” Michelle said. “I’ll pick you up at 6 Friday. I’ve got to go back to work now.”
They hugged and Michelle said something odd before going.
“Oh, and dress sexy. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”
Tammy spent the rest of the week reading her old tattered copy of “Gone With the Wind” and trying not to think of Daryl. It was easier than she’d thought. Rhett was a welcome change from Daryl. They were both scoundrels, but at least Rhett had cunning. Rhett was also never intimidated by Scarlett’s intelligence. Reading it again reminded her of how much she had wanted a man like Rhett when she was a teen, and when she thought about Daryl, she wondered how her expectations could have dropped so low.
Reading didn’t help kill the physical cravings, though. The three months before she caught Daryl in bed with the neighbor, he had lost interest in their bed. They had gone from sex every other day to not even a grope. Tammy would think that with a three-month lull in sex, she would have become used to not getting any, but that wasn’t the case. At least when Daryl was in the house, there had been the chance of sex. Now that he was completely gone, Tammy didn’t even have the physical contact of sitting together on the couch or lying beside each other in bed. This ache was only heightened by the torrid up-and-down romance of Scarlett and Rhett.
Tammy read through the thick book in record time. Michelle had been right — Tammy didn’t have anything better to do. Her mind was filled with the story of Scarlett, Rhett, Ashley and all the other tragic figures. Even her Southern accent was thicker through sheer association. She still thought of Daryl, but it was mixed in with thoughts on the Civil War and ballroom dances.
When Michelle came to pick Tammy up on Friday, the look of approval on her face made Tammy glow inside. Tammy spun around to show off the new sundress she had bought, and Michelle impishly wolf-whistled. The green dress set off her blond hair, and the cleavage the dress created was almost sinful. Tammy felt like a real Southern belle.
Michelle was dressed more formally. Her black hair was held up in a strict topknot Tammy had never seen on her before. She was wearing a tight white blouse that did nothing to cover her large breasts. Her only concessions to dressing normally were a nice pair of slacks and sensible heels. Tammy liked how her friend had dressed professionally yet sexily enough for a date.
“What kind of book club is this?” Tammy asked. “Is it some sort of cover for meeting singles?”
“Nope,” Michelle said. “Did you read the book?”
“Of course I did,” Tammy said. “Though the way you’re dressed, I don’t think anyone’s going to mind if you didn’t.”
Michelle laughed. “I sure as hell would,” but she wouldn’t elaborate. Any questions Tammy had were put off as Michelle assured her they would all be answered in time. All Michelle would talk about was the book, and she kept asking Tammy to quiz her on it. Tammy rattled off questions as Michelle drove them to their destination. It reminded her of cramming for a test, but when she said so, her best friend only smiled and told her to just wait.
The house they went to looked normal enough. It didn’t look like a place for singles. There were only four other cars in the driveway, so it couldn’t be half the party Tammy had expected. Michelle didn’t appear put off, so Tammy followed her lead. They walked up to the door and rang the bell.
A man answered the door, and Tammy instantly saw why Michelle had insisted they dress well. He was attractive but not handsome. He was too intense to be handsome. His blue eyes looked at Michelle and than at Tammy before turning back to Michelle.
“Does she understand?” he asked Michelle.
“She’s a fast learner,” Michelle said.
The man looked at Tammy, and this time she felt like she was being evaluated. Had it been anyone else, she would have made a smart-ass comment about boys and their clubs, but she couldn’t do that with this man. His eyes analyzed her while his mouth pursed in thought.
“My name is David. Welcome to the Consequence Book Club.”
“Thank you,” Tammy said. He held the door open, and they walked in. Michelle led her nervous friend to a large living area. An entire wall was made of windows, but the shades were drawn over all of them. The furniture was dark and Gothic, every piece either covered in leather or sporting some sort of ornate decoration. The only things bringing life to the room were various plants hanging from hooks in the ceiling.
Other women were there, and Tammy was surprised that no one stepped forward to make introductions. Michelle was talking with David in the hallway, and Tammy wasn’t comfortable enough to talk to these strangers. For that matter, they weren’t talking to one another. The tension in the room wasn’t putting her at ease at all.
To pass the time, she examined the other women. The first to catch her eye was the oldest woman in the room. She had streaks of gray in her blond hair, but she was in better shape than anyone else there. Her red pantsuit gave her a professional air, marred only by the almost excessive jewelry she wore. The diamond earrings were good, but the sparkling emerald necklace and the rather large diamond rings she had on both hands seemed to scream that she was far too wealthy to associate with the likes of them.
In contrast to the older woman was a young lady who couldn’t have been more than 20. She was a small brunette who picked nervously at her blue jeans. Her inherent shyness was in conflict with the white halter top she wore. It was so sheer that Tammy could clearly see the woman’s small breasts under it. The effect was close to being topless, and Tammy found herself averting her eyes in embarrassment.
The last stranger was a robust black woman. She sat on the couch with a regal air that discouraged Tammy from sitting anywhere near her. She wore a purple sweater that clung to her curvy chest and a matching purple skirt. The woman’s hair was long and beaded, and it made little clicking noises every time she moved her head.
David and Michelle entered the living room, and the effect David had on the other women amazed Tammy. The older woman actually blushed. The black woman bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath. Somehow, the younger woman became even more withdrawn, shrinking back and tilting her head down. Even Michelle was acting differently, grinning as if today were her birthday and tomorrow were Christmas.
“Tammy can have the bench,” David said. “Michelle and Rosa, help her.”
“Over here, Tammy,” Michelle said. She was pointing to a long leather-covered bench. The black woman got up to help, so Tammy assumed she was Rosa. She almost introduced herself, but Michelle impatiently prodded her to go to the bench. Tammy sat down on one end, but Michelle shook her head and turned Tammy around. When she was straddling the bench, Rosa pushed her gently down on her back. Rosa took care to sweep out Tammy’s blond hair so that it hung over the edge of the bench.
“What’s going on, Michelle?” Tammy asked as her friend spread Tammy’s legs. Rosa was gently pulling her arms back, and Tammy felt extremely vulnerable. That feeling only escalated when she felt cold steel quickly slip around her wrists and ankles almost simultaneously.
Being bound changed everything. Tammy demanded again to know what was going on.
Michelle was smiling, and Tammy found that infuriating. “It’s part of the book club, Tammy. Trust me, OK? You’ll love it.”
There was nothing Tammy could do. She tested her restraints, but the metal cuffs that held her gave her no freedom. She would have to trust Michelle, and although she knew her friend would never hurt her, she couldn’t help worrying over what was to come next.
For now, it appeared to be the restraining of the others. David ordered Michelle to the back of the couch, and Tammy watched in amazement as her friend pulled down her pants and underwear. With her ass bare, Michelle draped herself over the couch. She was facing Tammy, and Tammy couldn’t get over how happy her friend looked. David produced a pair of handcuffs and cuffed Michelle’s hands behind her back.
“Don’t worry, Tammy. Just relax and have fun,” Michelle called .
Tammy was too stunned to argue. Across from her, David was removing a plant from its ceiling hook and replacing it with a length of chain. He called, “Ruby,” and the older woman was quick to obey. She willingly slipped on leather manacles that he then attached to the ceiling chain. Ruby had to stretch in order to reach the ceiling, but David seemed oblivious to her discomfort. He was more concerned with popping open the buttons on her jacket to reveal the white lace bra underneath. As Tammy stared, David yanked down Ruby’s skirt to expose her white panties and bare legs. She wondered why David stripped Ruby while Michelle had undressed on her own. From the big smile on Ruby’s face, Tammy assumed the woman just enjoyed the personal attention.
The youngest woman was next. David called her Jen and ordered her to the chair. Without being told, she stripped off her pants and halter top. She was completely nude when she sat down on a hard wooden chair. The chair must have been cold, because Jen hissed when she sat on it. David paid her no mind as he chained her ankles to the legs of the chair and her wrists to the arms. Tammy noticed the longing in Jen’s eyes, but the man didn’t give her a second glance.
David assigned Ruby to another bench. She shimmied out of her sweater to uncover the largest breasts Tammy had ever seen. She tried to take off her skirt, but David stopped her and made her lie face down on the bench. Tammy watched as Rosa’s large breasts were crushed flat on the leather padding. David chained her wrists and ankles to the bench legs just as he had done to Tammy. When he was finished, he lifted Rosa’s skirt to reveal her wide mocha ass — without panties, of course.
“I now call this meeting of the Consequence Book Club to order,” David said. He opened a desk and selected a riding crop. He swished it through the air several times to test his swing, and all eyes in the room followed every movement of the crop. The sight of the implement frightened Tammy, but she was too surprised to protest. What had she gotten herself into?
“As you know, tonight’s book is ‘Gone With the Wind.’ I trust you all enjoyed it as much as I did. I have no doubt that you studied it well.”
“We’ll start with Rosa,” David said. “Rosa, what was the last names of the twins, Stuart and Brent?”
Tammy thought about it as Rosa tried to remember them. They were small characters, and other than a report on their death, they never appeared after the first page. Despite this, Tammy knew the answer.
“I don’t know,” Rosa admitted. “Johnson?”
David clucked his tongue. “No guesses,” he said.
He brought the riding crop down on Rosa’s ass, and the loud CRACK echoed through the living room. Rosa gritted her teeth but didn’t complain.
“Jen, same question,” David asked. “What was the name of the twins?”
The young woman swallowed. “I have no idea,” she said in a whisper.
“I appreciate the honesty,” David said and swung the crop down hard on Jen’s spread thigh. Jen cried out and tugged at the chains that held her. Tammy’s stomach clenched at the sound of those chains pulling and Jen breathing harder.
“Michelle, do you know their names?” David asked.
Tammy’s friend smiled. “The Tarleton twins,” she said.
“Excellent,” David said. He was standing behind Michelle, and Tammy couldn’t see where his hands were moving. Michelle gasped and then purred as David did something out of Tammy’s sight.
“It’s your turn, Tammy,” David said. He walked from around Michelle, and Tammy couldn’t help noticing that his fingers were glistening with moisture. He had just fingered her best friend!
“This is crazy,” Tammy said. Cute guy or not, she wasn’t this desperate for male company! She was about to insist on being released when David stood over her. Her protests choked in her throat. The intensity of his eyes was focused on her bound body, and her stomach was twisting but in a good way. He reached down, grabbed the hem of her dress and slowly pulled it up over her waist. She was being undressed, and against everything her common sense was telling her, she was enjoying the attention.
“Tammy, to whom was Ashley Wilkes engaged?”
It was an easy question, but Tammy had a hard time remembering with her dress pulled up. Instead of concentrating, she couldn’t stop watching David as he tapped the crop in his hand. Would he strike her thigh as he had Jen’s or smack her elsewhere? Worse, what if she got it right? If he touched her sex, would she be able to be indignant or would she moan like Michelle?
“Melanie,” Tammy said. “Her name was Melanie.”
“Not bad for a first-timer,” David said. The tip of crop stroked gently up her thigh, and Tammy tensed. Up and down the crop tip moved, teasing her skin and making her clench in anticipation. Lightly, it brushed over her yellow panties, and briefly she felt the tip of the crop pass over her pussy before pulling away.
David walked toward Ruby and asked her a question, but Tammy wasn’t listening. She was too confused. As much as she had been dreading sexual contact, she was more disappointed when the contact she received was so light. There was no telling what he had done to Michelle, but just from her moans, she knew it had to be more than what she’d received. Tammy couldn’t explain it, but she felt distinctly rejected.
Ruby must have answered wrong because David was swinging the crop upward toward the woman’s breasts. The crop landed hard on her bra, slapping loudly against the cloth. The bra must not have offered much protection because Ruby was wincing as David swung again. He slapped each breast twice and then walked away as Ruby panted.
“Your turn, Rosa,” he said. “Which of Scarlett’s parents went senile?”
“It was the father, and I didn’t need Ruby saying it was the mother to know,” Rosa said. She was proud although she was bound facedown with her ass showing.
David chuckled. “I’m sure you didn’t,” he said. He used the crop to trace a line down Rosa’s back. The large woman closed her eyes and tilted her head back as the crop traveled down her spine. She shivered and even moaned a little as the crop traveled over her ass. The tip dipped down between her thighs, and Tammy strained to watch from her bound position. All she knew was that what David did put a big smile on Rosa’s face.
“Jen, finish this line: I can stand anything from you but what?”
“Seeing you cry?” Jen asked.
“A better guess than some,” David said, but it didn’t stop him from spanking her with the crop. He hit her four times on both thighs, striking rapidly as she twisted in the chair. Jen cried out with each hit, but they were cries of pleasure mixed in with the pain.
“Need me to repeat the question, Michelle?” David asked.
Michelle was still glowing from her earlier reward. “I know this one. He can’t stand to see her with another man.”
“Romantic, but wrong,” David said. He grabbed Michelle’s hair and pulled her head back as he spanked her with the crop. One, two, three, four times he hit her on the ass, and Tammy could hear every painful slap. Michelle’s face was scrunched up in pain, but she was also annoyed with herself for missing the question.
Tammy was feeling conflicted. She felt bad for Michelle getting spanked, yet at the same time she was also relieved. She knew the answer to this question, and she had worried that Michelle might steal the reward away. Tammy hadn’t been hit with the crop yet, and the sound of all these women moaning was just reminding her of what she had been missing since her boyfriend left.
“Same question, Tammy,” David said.
“He couldn’t stand Scarlett to lie,” Tammy said.
The smile on David’s face was genuine, and Tammy felt herself flutter inside. “Excellent. You are doing great.”
Tammy watched as the crop moved between her thighs. The tip of the crop slipped under her panties and glided across her pubic hair. As the leather pushed against her sex, Tammy pulled at her restraints out of frustration. She gasped when the crop stroked over her lips, back and forth as David teased her. When he removed the crop, Tammy could feel that her face had flushed, and Michelle was looking right at her. She expected her friend to say something, but Michelle was too engrossed in the game for conversation.
The questions continued, and Tammy was caught up in the competition to please David and answer his endless questions. The punishments kept increasing in severity, and more clothes were lost. Tammy was surprised at the amount of pain the other women could endure. Rosa suffered through a 5-minute spanking on her thighs but never came close to asking David to stop. In fact, Tammy noticed that the black woman was humping the bench as he spanked her! The pain only heightened Rosa’s desire.
Jen missed a question about the soldiers who came to the plantation and received a harsh cropping on her right breast. David never hesitated, cropping her nipple again and again as Jen moaned and thrashed. Her small breast was covered with welts but other than being upset over not knowing the answer, she didn’t seem to mind at all.
Ruby confused the order of Scarlett’s children and paid dearly for it. David spun her around and spanked her bare ass without mercy. Tammy watched as Ruby’s ass went from pink to red to a dark crimson before he finally relented. Ruby whimpered when he stepped away, and Tammy was shocked to realize that Ruby was whimpering because he had stopped!
She saw similar behavior from Michelle. When her friend didn’t know the name of Scarlett’s first husband, David decided that her punishment had to be more than just a simple spanking. He produced a pair of metal clamps from a pocket. The other women moaned in sympathy , but Tammy suspected they were jealous. David snapped the nasty-looking clamps right over Michelle’s bare breasts. Her friend cried out at the biting pain, and her eyes were shut in extreme pain. Yet when she opened her eyes, Tammy recognized the small look of triumph in her friend’s eyes.
Tammy understood where that triumph came from during one of her own rare punishments. It was a terribly trivial question about the length of Rhett’s military service, a fact so odd and barely important that Tammy suspected he gave it to her just so she would miss one. Instead of being offended at being given a rigged question, she was excited at the prospect of what David might do with her.
For starters, he removed her panties. Because of the way she was bound, he had to cut them with a pocket knife, and Tammy had chills from the touch of cold steel on her thigh. When her panties were removed, David walked around to Tammy’s head and stood over her. She looked straight up at him as he readied his riding crop. His eyes were focused on her, and that just made her wetter.
He brought the crop down, not on a thigh, but directly onto her sex. It was a light tap, but the shock of being struck there was intense. The crop came down again a little harder, and this time she could feel the sting directly on her pussy lips. Her sex clenched hard as the crop came down again and again. Tammy tried not to scream, but after the seventh spank, she couldn’t help herself. The pain was so intense that it bit deeply into her very being. Tammy shut her eyes and shrieked with every sharp slap. The chains held her tight as the harsh sensations increased and multiplied. When David finally stopped, Tammy shivered and collapsed in her bonds. She ached, but at the same time, being the center of this man’s attention was priceless.
It wasn’t all punishment. There were rewards as well. It started with caresses from his hands or maybe a gentle stroke from the crop. As the rewards escalated, David became more personal, and Tammy found that the women’s jealousy became more visible as well. When David rewarded Rosa with a kiss, Michelle actually growled. Jen was rewarded with a shoulder rub, and the icy gaze of hatred from Ruby said it all.
Since she was getting more answers correct than the others, Tammy received more rewards. At first, she was a little taken aback by the soft intimacies David gave her, but she realized it was silly to be shy about a guy who had her bound in his living room. He started by giving her little kisses where his tongue barely parted her lips. As she got more answers right, his mouth moved downward to her neck, to her shoulders and even to the cleavage of her sundress. His hands become involved as well, and Tammy was surprised at how gentle his fingers were in comparison to the cruelty of his crop.
The stakes were raised to a new level when David unzipped his pants. Tammy watched as he slipped out of his pants to reveal his cock. It wasn’t particularly large, but it was proud and hard. He asked Jen a question that Tammy didn’t even pay attention to. When she got it right, David simply pulled her head to his cock. Tammy watched in a jealous fit as the young woman took David into her mouth.
They all had a chance with his cock, and Tammy was surprised by how fiercely she competed to have it. If Michelle had told her last week that she would spend a few hours answering questions for the privilege of feeling a cock, Tammy would have laughed and never stopped. Yet here she was, racking her memory for the name of the old woman Rhett loaned money to in order to get his children accepted in society. She got the answer right, and David bent down so she could run her lips over his hard length. Tammy didn’t even mind that his cock was already wet from other mouths. For now, it was all hers.
David announced that it was the final round of questions, and that once everyone had answered one more question, the night was over. Tammy looked at the wall clock and was surprised to see that it was already midnight. After a week that had dragged on too long, this special night had gone far too quickly. Tammy felt a knot of fear grow in her as she considered what he said. Throughout the night, despite how he rewarded or punished her, she hadn’t had a climax. For that matter, none of the women had. Was the night to end without satisfaction?
It was Rosa’s turn, but David didn’t make it simple for her. He climbed onto the bench and got right on top of her. She moaned as his cock wedged between her buttocks. He pressed down on her, and it was obvious that Rosa enjoyed having so much of him touching her. She almost didn’t hear the question although his mouth was right by her ear.
“How old was Rhett when he left Scarlett at the end of the book?”
Rosa didn’t answer. She closed her eyes, and although she was tightly bound, she ground against David’s body as best she could. It was clear to Tammy that Rosa didn’t know the answer, but she was milking the time as best she could. Tammy couldn’t blame her.
“I need an answer,” David said.
“50?” Rosa asked.
“Wrong,” David said. To Tammy’s surprise, David didn’t punish her. He simply climbed off her body and moved to Jen. Maybe that was punishment enough.
He kneeled in front of Jen and put his hands on her thighs, and the young woman moaned as he massaged her thighs with his hands. Her legs were covered with the welts he had placed there, and she winced under his touch. That didn’t mean she complained, though.
“How old was Rhett, Jen?” David asked.
Unlike Rosa, Jen wasted no time in guessing. “40?” she said.
David kissed her knee. “No,” he said.
He rose and walked over to Ruby. Her underarms were still pink from where he had used the crop last. David walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her. His hands grabbed her ass, and she cried out as his fingers squeezed the welts he had put there over the course of the evening. He pulled her close to him, his cock trapped between their bodies.
“Have an answer, Ruby?” David asked.
“I know this one,” Ruby said. “Let me think, let me think,” she pleaded, although David wasn’t saying anything. He was, however, dancing slowly against her. With her arms stretched up above her head, there was little she could do except move her hips with him. She tried closing her eyes to think, but it was obvious from the way she danced with him that she wasn’t thinking at all.
“47,” Ruby finally said.
“No,” David said and he stopped dancing immediately. Ruby only whimpered.
“Michelle, you and Tammy have performed the best tonight,” David said. “Because of that, I will give each of you a chance to answer, and whoever comes closer will get the reward. The other will just watch.”
David walked behind Michelle’s bent-over body, and Michelle squealed when he entered her. Tammy’s jealousy burned within her as she watched her best friend accept the cock that should have been hers. David pumped his hips once and then withdrew from her body. Michelle shuddered and moaned in frustration.
“I think he was 42,” Michelle said.
“Let’s see what Tammy says,” David said. He walked over to Tammy, and his cock was shiny from being inside Michelle. Tammy didn’t mind. She was silent as he climbed on top of her, and she didn’t even flinch when his skin touched the various welts on her body. For some reason, he didn’t enter her. His cock was pressing down on her sex, just barely outside of her wet, wet pussy.
“How old was Rhett, Tammy?” David asked.
It was crystal clear in her mind. “He said he was 45,” Tammy said.
“I knew you would get it,” David said, and the moans of disappointment from the other women were drowned out by Tammy’s scream of delight as he entered her. His cock entered quickly and hard, taking Tammy by surprise, but she welcomed him. It was her reward, hers by right of her intelligence, and she planned to enjoy every thrust, every roll of his hips, every gasp he uttered on top of her bound body.
Tammy strained against her restraints. She wanted to hold him as he rode her. His cock kept driving into her as she ached to wrap her thighs around him. The cuffs held onto her wrists and ankles no matter how hard she pulled and struggled. Eventually, she gave up trying to move her limbs and moved the parts she could move. Tammy could move her hips, pressing up into David as he thrust down into her. She could move her mouth against his, kissing and biting whenever his lips came close enough. When his hands groped her breasts, she arched her back and forced her nipples against his hands. She was being rewarded for using her mind.
In the back of her mind was the fear that he might quit at any moment. Chained as she was, there was nothing she could do if he did stop. Maybe he would climax and roll right off her. Perhaps at any moment, he would withdraw and say her reward was over. The thought of not getting off terrified Tammy and only made her thrust against him harder. She just had to come tonight, and even though she was bound, she refused to believe she was helpless. She moaned. She clenched him as tightly as she could with her pussy. The far-from-helpless woman made all the right sounds and all the right moves to keep David pumping and pumping.
Finally, it happened. She felt as if she had been ignited from within. Tammy melted into the bench as David continued to ride her. The sexual frustration and tension that had built up over the past few months were released amid her moans of pleasure. One orgasm blurred into another, and Tammy was only barely aware of the frustrated moans of the other women. Briefly, she wished she could share that wonderful feeling of climax, but the thought was quickly forgotten as she succumbed to the continuing pleasures.
When David pulled out of her, she realized she hadn’t even felt him come. He released her restraints and walked away to free the others. Tammy could barely move, but she found the strength to pull her dress back down over her body. None of the other women were talking, and when Tammy started to say something, Michelle signaled her to be quiet. There was a sharp tension in the air. The women were obviously very turned on but denied the satisfaction Tammy had enjoyed. All of them were impatient to leave, and Tammy found herself imagining how vigorously and completely all of them would be masturbating as soon as they were able. She was proud of herself for not needing to masturbate, and she carried her afterglow on her face like a trophy.
Once all the women were dressed, David spoke again. “The book for next time is ‘The Count of Monte Cristo.’ I recommend you read it completely and do not be fooled by watching a movie adaptation. Arrive promptly at the usual time. This meeting of the Consequences Book Club is adjourned.”
The end.
“That’s not true,” Tammy said. It was easy to defend her ex-boyfriend. She’d been defending him from her friends for close to a year. Even though the asshole had cheated on her, Tammy lapsed back into the habit of sticking up for him. It was her lunch hour and Michelle had been nice enough to come across town just to meet Tammy and hear her whine about Daryl. Tammy felt she should have let Michelle tear him down, but old habits died hard.
“Tammy, listen,” Michelle started. “The jerk never respected your intelligence. How many times have you told me how he snubbed your opinion anytime you tried to give it? The boy treated you like a dumb blonde, and that wasn’t right.”
“How smart could I have been to be with him?” Tammy said. “Maybe I’m not that bright after all.”
Michelle growled. She was never one to indulge in self-pity, and she didn’t tolerate it in others. Tammy’s best friend chewed her lip for a minute while Tammy waited for her to yell. Instead, Michelle came to some sort of a decision and fished out a card from her purse.
“I wasn’t going to tell you about this, but I think you need it,” she said.
Tammy looked at the card and smirked. It said “Consequence Book Club” and had an address.
“A book club?” Tammy said. “That’s going to get me over Daryl?”
To discover what the book club is about click Whole Post
“It’s a different kind of book club,” Michelle said. “You need to be in an environment where you actually get to use your brains for something other than thinking about Daryl. Our next meeting is this Friday, and our book this time is ‘Gone With the Wind.’ Get off your moping ass and read it before then, and you can come with me.”
“I don’t know, Michelle,” Tammy said. “I read it years ago, but today is Monday. I won’t have time to reread it before Friday.”
Michelle took Tammy’s hand and squeezed it. “Tammy, just do it, OK? Trust me on this one.”
She couldn’t say no. “All right. If you really think it will help.”
“Good,” Michelle said. “I’ll pick you up at 6 Friday. I’ve got to go back to work now.”
They hugged and Michelle said something odd before going.
“Oh, and dress sexy. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”
Tammy spent the rest of the week reading her old tattered copy of “Gone With the Wind” and trying not to think of Daryl. It was easier than she’d thought. Rhett was a welcome change from Daryl. They were both scoundrels, but at least Rhett had cunning. Rhett was also never intimidated by Scarlett’s intelligence. Reading it again reminded her of how much she had wanted a man like Rhett when she was a teen, and when she thought about Daryl, she wondered how her expectations could have dropped so low.
Reading didn’t help kill the physical cravings, though. The three months before she caught Daryl in bed with the neighbor, he had lost interest in their bed. They had gone from sex every other day to not even a grope. Tammy would think that with a three-month lull in sex, she would have become used to not getting any, but that wasn’t the case. At least when Daryl was in the house, there had been the chance of sex. Now that he was completely gone, Tammy didn’t even have the physical contact of sitting together on the couch or lying beside each other in bed. This ache was only heightened by the torrid up-and-down romance of Scarlett and Rhett.
Tammy read through the thick book in record time. Michelle had been right — Tammy didn’t have anything better to do. Her mind was filled with the story of Scarlett, Rhett, Ashley and all the other tragic figures. Even her Southern accent was thicker through sheer association. She still thought of Daryl, but it was mixed in with thoughts on the Civil War and ballroom dances.
When Michelle came to pick Tammy up on Friday, the look of approval on her face made Tammy glow inside. Tammy spun around to show off the new sundress she had bought, and Michelle impishly wolf-whistled. The green dress set off her blond hair, and the cleavage the dress created was almost sinful. Tammy felt like a real Southern belle.
Michelle was dressed more formally. Her black hair was held up in a strict topknot Tammy had never seen on her before. She was wearing a tight white blouse that did nothing to cover her large breasts. Her only concessions to dressing normally were a nice pair of slacks and sensible heels. Tammy liked how her friend had dressed professionally yet sexily enough for a date.
“What kind of book club is this?” Tammy asked. “Is it some sort of cover for meeting singles?”
“Nope,” Michelle said. “Did you read the book?”
“Of course I did,” Tammy said. “Though the way you’re dressed, I don’t think anyone’s going to mind if you didn’t.”
Michelle laughed. “I sure as hell would,” but she wouldn’t elaborate. Any questions Tammy had were put off as Michelle assured her they would all be answered in time. All Michelle would talk about was the book, and she kept asking Tammy to quiz her on it. Tammy rattled off questions as Michelle drove them to their destination. It reminded her of cramming for a test, but when she said so, her best friend only smiled and told her to just wait.
The house they went to looked normal enough. It didn’t look like a place for singles. There were only four other cars in the driveway, so it couldn’t be half the party Tammy had expected. Michelle didn’t appear put off, so Tammy followed her lead. They walked up to the door and rang the bell.
A man answered the door, and Tammy instantly saw why Michelle had insisted they dress well. He was attractive but not handsome. He was too intense to be handsome. His blue eyes looked at Michelle and than at Tammy before turning back to Michelle.
“Does she understand?” he asked Michelle.
“She’s a fast learner,” Michelle said.
The man looked at Tammy, and this time she felt like she was being evaluated. Had it been anyone else, she would have made a smart-ass comment about boys and their clubs, but she couldn’t do that with this man. His eyes analyzed her while his mouth pursed in thought.
“My name is David. Welcome to the Consequence Book Club.”
“Thank you,” Tammy said. He held the door open, and they walked in. Michelle led her nervous friend to a large living area. An entire wall was made of windows, but the shades were drawn over all of them. The furniture was dark and Gothic, every piece either covered in leather or sporting some sort of ornate decoration. The only things bringing life to the room were various plants hanging from hooks in the ceiling.
Other women were there, and Tammy was surprised that no one stepped forward to make introductions. Michelle was talking with David in the hallway, and Tammy wasn’t comfortable enough to talk to these strangers. For that matter, they weren’t talking to one another. The tension in the room wasn’t putting her at ease at all.
To pass the time, she examined the other women. The first to catch her eye was the oldest woman in the room. She had streaks of gray in her blond hair, but she was in better shape than anyone else there. Her red pantsuit gave her a professional air, marred only by the almost excessive jewelry she wore. The diamond earrings were good, but the sparkling emerald necklace and the rather large diamond rings she had on both hands seemed to scream that she was far too wealthy to associate with the likes of them.
In contrast to the older woman was a young lady who couldn’t have been more than 20. She was a small brunette who picked nervously at her blue jeans. Her inherent shyness was in conflict with the white halter top she wore. It was so sheer that Tammy could clearly see the woman’s small breasts under it. The effect was close to being topless, and Tammy found herself averting her eyes in embarrassment.
The last stranger was a robust black woman. She sat on the couch with a regal air that discouraged Tammy from sitting anywhere near her. She wore a purple sweater that clung to her curvy chest and a matching purple skirt. The woman’s hair was long and beaded, and it made little clicking noises every time she moved her head.
David and Michelle entered the living room, and the effect David had on the other women amazed Tammy. The older woman actually blushed. The black woman bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath. Somehow, the younger woman became even more withdrawn, shrinking back and tilting her head down. Even Michelle was acting differently, grinning as if today were her birthday and tomorrow were Christmas.
“Tammy can have the bench,” David said. “Michelle and Rosa, help her.”
“Over here, Tammy,” Michelle said. She was pointing to a long leather-covered bench. The black woman got up to help, so Tammy assumed she was Rosa. She almost introduced herself, but Michelle impatiently prodded her to go to the bench. Tammy sat down on one end, but Michelle shook her head and turned Tammy around. When she was straddling the bench, Rosa pushed her gently down on her back. Rosa took care to sweep out Tammy’s blond hair so that it hung over the edge of the bench.
“What’s going on, Michelle?” Tammy asked as her friend spread Tammy’s legs. Rosa was gently pulling her arms back, and Tammy felt extremely vulnerable. That feeling only escalated when she felt cold steel quickly slip around her wrists and ankles almost simultaneously.
Being bound changed everything. Tammy demanded again to know what was going on.
Michelle was smiling, and Tammy found that infuriating. “It’s part of the book club, Tammy. Trust me, OK? You’ll love it.”
There was nothing Tammy could do. She tested her restraints, but the metal cuffs that held her gave her no freedom. She would have to trust Michelle, and although she knew her friend would never hurt her, she couldn’t help worrying over what was to come next.
For now, it appeared to be the restraining of the others. David ordered Michelle to the back of the couch, and Tammy watched in amazement as her friend pulled down her pants and underwear. With her ass bare, Michelle draped herself over the couch. She was facing Tammy, and Tammy couldn’t get over how happy her friend looked. David produced a pair of handcuffs and cuffed Michelle’s hands behind her back.
“Don’t worry, Tammy. Just relax and have fun,” Michelle called .
Tammy was too stunned to argue. Across from her, David was removing a plant from its ceiling hook and replacing it with a length of chain. He called, “Ruby,” and the older woman was quick to obey. She willingly slipped on leather manacles that he then attached to the ceiling chain. Ruby had to stretch in order to reach the ceiling, but David seemed oblivious to her discomfort. He was more concerned with popping open the buttons on her jacket to reveal the white lace bra underneath. As Tammy stared, David yanked down Ruby’s skirt to expose her white panties and bare legs. She wondered why David stripped Ruby while Michelle had undressed on her own. From the big smile on Ruby’s face, Tammy assumed the woman just enjoyed the personal attention.
The youngest woman was next. David called her Jen and ordered her to the chair. Without being told, she stripped off her pants and halter top. She was completely nude when she sat down on a hard wooden chair. The chair must have been cold, because Jen hissed when she sat on it. David paid her no mind as he chained her ankles to the legs of the chair and her wrists to the arms. Tammy noticed the longing in Jen’s eyes, but the man didn’t give her a second glance.
David assigned Ruby to another bench. She shimmied out of her sweater to uncover the largest breasts Tammy had ever seen. She tried to take off her skirt, but David stopped her and made her lie face down on the bench. Tammy watched as Rosa’s large breasts were crushed flat on the leather padding. David chained her wrists and ankles to the bench legs just as he had done to Tammy. When he was finished, he lifted Rosa’s skirt to reveal her wide mocha ass — without panties, of course.
“I now call this meeting of the Consequence Book Club to order,” David said. He opened a desk and selected a riding crop. He swished it through the air several times to test his swing, and all eyes in the room followed every movement of the crop. The sight of the implement frightened Tammy, but she was too surprised to protest. What had she gotten herself into?
“As you know, tonight’s book is ‘Gone With the Wind.’ I trust you all enjoyed it as much as I did. I have no doubt that you studied it well.”
“We’ll start with Rosa,” David said. “Rosa, what was the last names of the twins, Stuart and Brent?”
Tammy thought about it as Rosa tried to remember them. They were small characters, and other than a report on their death, they never appeared after the first page. Despite this, Tammy knew the answer.
“I don’t know,” Rosa admitted. “Johnson?”
David clucked his tongue. “No guesses,” he said.
He brought the riding crop down on Rosa’s ass, and the loud CRACK echoed through the living room. Rosa gritted her teeth but didn’t complain.
“Jen, same question,” David asked. “What was the name of the twins?”
The young woman swallowed. “I have no idea,” she said in a whisper.
“I appreciate the honesty,” David said and swung the crop down hard on Jen’s spread thigh. Jen cried out and tugged at the chains that held her. Tammy’s stomach clenched at the sound of those chains pulling and Jen breathing harder.
“Michelle, do you know their names?” David asked.
Tammy’s friend smiled. “The Tarleton twins,” she said.
“Excellent,” David said. He was standing behind Michelle, and Tammy couldn’t see where his hands were moving. Michelle gasped and then purred as David did something out of Tammy’s sight.
“It’s your turn, Tammy,” David said. He walked from around Michelle, and Tammy couldn’t help noticing that his fingers were glistening with moisture. He had just fingered her best friend!
“This is crazy,” Tammy said. Cute guy or not, she wasn’t this desperate for male company! She was about to insist on being released when David stood over her. Her protests choked in her throat. The intensity of his eyes was focused on her bound body, and her stomach was twisting but in a good way. He reached down, grabbed the hem of her dress and slowly pulled it up over her waist. She was being undressed, and against everything her common sense was telling her, she was enjoying the attention.
“Tammy, to whom was Ashley Wilkes engaged?”
It was an easy question, but Tammy had a hard time remembering with her dress pulled up. Instead of concentrating, she couldn’t stop watching David as he tapped the crop in his hand. Would he strike her thigh as he had Jen’s or smack her elsewhere? Worse, what if she got it right? If he touched her sex, would she be able to be indignant or would she moan like Michelle?
“Melanie,” Tammy said. “Her name was Melanie.”
“Not bad for a first-timer,” David said. The tip of crop stroked gently up her thigh, and Tammy tensed. Up and down the crop tip moved, teasing her skin and making her clench in anticipation. Lightly, it brushed over her yellow panties, and briefly she felt the tip of the crop pass over her pussy before pulling away.
David walked toward Ruby and asked her a question, but Tammy wasn’t listening. She was too confused. As much as she had been dreading sexual contact, she was more disappointed when the contact she received was so light. There was no telling what he had done to Michelle, but just from her moans, she knew it had to be more than what she’d received. Tammy couldn’t explain it, but she felt distinctly rejected.
Ruby must have answered wrong because David was swinging the crop upward toward the woman’s breasts. The crop landed hard on her bra, slapping loudly against the cloth. The bra must not have offered much protection because Ruby was wincing as David swung again. He slapped each breast twice and then walked away as Ruby panted.
“Your turn, Rosa,” he said. “Which of Scarlett’s parents went senile?”
“It was the father, and I didn’t need Ruby saying it was the mother to know,” Rosa said. She was proud although she was bound facedown with her ass showing.
David chuckled. “I’m sure you didn’t,” he said. He used the crop to trace a line down Rosa’s back. The large woman closed her eyes and tilted her head back as the crop traveled down her spine. She shivered and even moaned a little as the crop traveled over her ass. The tip dipped down between her thighs, and Tammy strained to watch from her bound position. All she knew was that what David did put a big smile on Rosa’s face.
“Jen, finish this line: I can stand anything from you but what?”
“Seeing you cry?” Jen asked.
“A better guess than some,” David said, but it didn’t stop him from spanking her with the crop. He hit her four times on both thighs, striking rapidly as she twisted in the chair. Jen cried out with each hit, but they were cries of pleasure mixed in with the pain.
“Need me to repeat the question, Michelle?” David asked.
Michelle was still glowing from her earlier reward. “I know this one. He can’t stand to see her with another man.”
“Romantic, but wrong,” David said. He grabbed Michelle’s hair and pulled her head back as he spanked her with the crop. One, two, three, four times he hit her on the ass, and Tammy could hear every painful slap. Michelle’s face was scrunched up in pain, but she was also annoyed with herself for missing the question.
Tammy was feeling conflicted. She felt bad for Michelle getting spanked, yet at the same time she was also relieved. She knew the answer to this question, and she had worried that Michelle might steal the reward away. Tammy hadn’t been hit with the crop yet, and the sound of all these women moaning was just reminding her of what she had been missing since her boyfriend left.
“Same question, Tammy,” David said.
“He couldn’t stand Scarlett to lie,” Tammy said.
The smile on David’s face was genuine, and Tammy felt herself flutter inside. “Excellent. You are doing great.”
Tammy watched as the crop moved between her thighs. The tip of the crop slipped under her panties and glided across her pubic hair. As the leather pushed against her sex, Tammy pulled at her restraints out of frustration. She gasped when the crop stroked over her lips, back and forth as David teased her. When he removed the crop, Tammy could feel that her face had flushed, and Michelle was looking right at her. She expected her friend to say something, but Michelle was too engrossed in the game for conversation.
The questions continued, and Tammy was caught up in the competition to please David and answer his endless questions. The punishments kept increasing in severity, and more clothes were lost. Tammy was surprised at the amount of pain the other women could endure. Rosa suffered through a 5-minute spanking on her thighs but never came close to asking David to stop. In fact, Tammy noticed that the black woman was humping the bench as he spanked her! The pain only heightened Rosa’s desire.
Jen missed a question about the soldiers who came to the plantation and received a harsh cropping on her right breast. David never hesitated, cropping her nipple again and again as Jen moaned and thrashed. Her small breast was covered with welts but other than being upset over not knowing the answer, she didn’t seem to mind at all.
Ruby confused the order of Scarlett’s children and paid dearly for it. David spun her around and spanked her bare ass without mercy. Tammy watched as Ruby’s ass went from pink to red to a dark crimson before he finally relented. Ruby whimpered when he stepped away, and Tammy was shocked to realize that Ruby was whimpering because he had stopped!
She saw similar behavior from Michelle. When her friend didn’t know the name of Scarlett’s first husband, David decided that her punishment had to be more than just a simple spanking. He produced a pair of metal clamps from a pocket. The other women moaned in sympathy , but Tammy suspected they were jealous. David snapped the nasty-looking clamps right over Michelle’s bare breasts. Her friend cried out at the biting pain, and her eyes were shut in extreme pain. Yet when she opened her eyes, Tammy recognized the small look of triumph in her friend’s eyes.
Tammy understood where that triumph came from during one of her own rare punishments. It was a terribly trivial question about the length of Rhett’s military service, a fact so odd and barely important that Tammy suspected he gave it to her just so she would miss one. Instead of being offended at being given a rigged question, she was excited at the prospect of what David might do with her.
For starters, he removed her panties. Because of the way she was bound, he had to cut them with a pocket knife, and Tammy had chills from the touch of cold steel on her thigh. When her panties were removed, David walked around to Tammy’s head and stood over her. She looked straight up at him as he readied his riding crop. His eyes were focused on her, and that just made her wetter.
He brought the crop down, not on a thigh, but directly onto her sex. It was a light tap, but the shock of being struck there was intense. The crop came down again a little harder, and this time she could feel the sting directly on her pussy lips. Her sex clenched hard as the crop came down again and again. Tammy tried not to scream, but after the seventh spank, she couldn’t help herself. The pain was so intense that it bit deeply into her very being. Tammy shut her eyes and shrieked with every sharp slap. The chains held her tight as the harsh sensations increased and multiplied. When David finally stopped, Tammy shivered and collapsed in her bonds. She ached, but at the same time, being the center of this man’s attention was priceless.
It wasn’t all punishment. There were rewards as well. It started with caresses from his hands or maybe a gentle stroke from the crop. As the rewards escalated, David became more personal, and Tammy found that the women’s jealousy became more visible as well. When David rewarded Rosa with a kiss, Michelle actually growled. Jen was rewarded with a shoulder rub, and the icy gaze of hatred from Ruby said it all.
Since she was getting more answers correct than the others, Tammy received more rewards. At first, she was a little taken aback by the soft intimacies David gave her, but she realized it was silly to be shy about a guy who had her bound in his living room. He started by giving her little kisses where his tongue barely parted her lips. As she got more answers right, his mouth moved downward to her neck, to her shoulders and even to the cleavage of her sundress. His hands become involved as well, and Tammy was surprised at how gentle his fingers were in comparison to the cruelty of his crop.
The stakes were raised to a new level when David unzipped his pants. Tammy watched as he slipped out of his pants to reveal his cock. It wasn’t particularly large, but it was proud and hard. He asked Jen a question that Tammy didn’t even pay attention to. When she got it right, David simply pulled her head to his cock. Tammy watched in a jealous fit as the young woman took David into her mouth.
They all had a chance with his cock, and Tammy was surprised by how fiercely she competed to have it. If Michelle had told her last week that she would spend a few hours answering questions for the privilege of feeling a cock, Tammy would have laughed and never stopped. Yet here she was, racking her memory for the name of the old woman Rhett loaned money to in order to get his children accepted in society. She got the answer right, and David bent down so she could run her lips over his hard length. Tammy didn’t even mind that his cock was already wet from other mouths. For now, it was all hers.
David announced that it was the final round of questions, and that once everyone had answered one more question, the night was over. Tammy looked at the wall clock and was surprised to see that it was already midnight. After a week that had dragged on too long, this special night had gone far too quickly. Tammy felt a knot of fear grow in her as she considered what he said. Throughout the night, despite how he rewarded or punished her, she hadn’t had a climax. For that matter, none of the women had. Was the night to end without satisfaction?
It was Rosa’s turn, but David didn’t make it simple for her. He climbed onto the bench and got right on top of her. She moaned as his cock wedged between her buttocks. He pressed down on her, and it was obvious that Rosa enjoyed having so much of him touching her. She almost didn’t hear the question although his mouth was right by her ear.
“How old was Rhett when he left Scarlett at the end of the book?”
Rosa didn’t answer. She closed her eyes, and although she was tightly bound, she ground against David’s body as best she could. It was clear to Tammy that Rosa didn’t know the answer, but she was milking the time as best she could. Tammy couldn’t blame her.
“I need an answer,” David said.
“50?” Rosa asked.
“Wrong,” David said. To Tammy’s surprise, David didn’t punish her. He simply climbed off her body and moved to Jen. Maybe that was punishment enough.
He kneeled in front of Jen and put his hands on her thighs, and the young woman moaned as he massaged her thighs with his hands. Her legs were covered with the welts he had placed there, and she winced under his touch. That didn’t mean she complained, though.
“How old was Rhett, Jen?” David asked.
Unlike Rosa, Jen wasted no time in guessing. “40?” she said.
David kissed her knee. “No,” he said.
He rose and walked over to Ruby. Her underarms were still pink from where he had used the crop last. David walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her. His hands grabbed her ass, and she cried out as his fingers squeezed the welts he had put there over the course of the evening. He pulled her close to him, his cock trapped between their bodies.
“Have an answer, Ruby?” David asked.
“I know this one,” Ruby said. “Let me think, let me think,” she pleaded, although David wasn’t saying anything. He was, however, dancing slowly against her. With her arms stretched up above her head, there was little she could do except move her hips with him. She tried closing her eyes to think, but it was obvious from the way she danced with him that she wasn’t thinking at all.
“47,” Ruby finally said.
“No,” David said and he stopped dancing immediately. Ruby only whimpered.
“Michelle, you and Tammy have performed the best tonight,” David said. “Because of that, I will give each of you a chance to answer, and whoever comes closer will get the reward. The other will just watch.”
David walked behind Michelle’s bent-over body, and Michelle squealed when he entered her. Tammy’s jealousy burned within her as she watched her best friend accept the cock that should have been hers. David pumped his hips once and then withdrew from her body. Michelle shuddered and moaned in frustration.
“I think he was 42,” Michelle said.
“Let’s see what Tammy says,” David said. He walked over to Tammy, and his cock was shiny from being inside Michelle. Tammy didn’t mind. She was silent as he climbed on top of her, and she didn’t even flinch when his skin touched the various welts on her body. For some reason, he didn’t enter her. His cock was pressing down on her sex, just barely outside of her wet, wet pussy.
“How old was Rhett, Tammy?” David asked.
It was crystal clear in her mind. “He said he was 45,” Tammy said.
“I knew you would get it,” David said, and the moans of disappointment from the other women were drowned out by Tammy’s scream of delight as he entered her. His cock entered quickly and hard, taking Tammy by surprise, but she welcomed him. It was her reward, hers by right of her intelligence, and she planned to enjoy every thrust, every roll of his hips, every gasp he uttered on top of her bound body.
Tammy strained against her restraints. She wanted to hold him as he rode her. His cock kept driving into her as she ached to wrap her thighs around him. The cuffs held onto her wrists and ankles no matter how hard she pulled and struggled. Eventually, she gave up trying to move her limbs and moved the parts she could move. Tammy could move her hips, pressing up into David as he thrust down into her. She could move her mouth against his, kissing and biting whenever his lips came close enough. When his hands groped her breasts, she arched her back and forced her nipples against his hands. She was being rewarded for using her mind.
In the back of her mind was the fear that he might quit at any moment. Chained as she was, there was nothing she could do if he did stop. Maybe he would climax and roll right off her. Perhaps at any moment, he would withdraw and say her reward was over. The thought of not getting off terrified Tammy and only made her thrust against him harder. She just had to come tonight, and even though she was bound, she refused to believe she was helpless. She moaned. She clenched him as tightly as she could with her pussy. The far-from-helpless woman made all the right sounds and all the right moves to keep David pumping and pumping.
Finally, it happened. She felt as if she had been ignited from within. Tammy melted into the bench as David continued to ride her. The sexual frustration and tension that had built up over the past few months were released amid her moans of pleasure. One orgasm blurred into another, and Tammy was only barely aware of the frustrated moans of the other women. Briefly, she wished she could share that wonderful feeling of climax, but the thought was quickly forgotten as she succumbed to the continuing pleasures.
When David pulled out of her, she realized she hadn’t even felt him come. He released her restraints and walked away to free the others. Tammy could barely move, but she found the strength to pull her dress back down over her body. None of the other women were talking, and when Tammy started to say something, Michelle signaled her to be quiet. There was a sharp tension in the air. The women were obviously very turned on but denied the satisfaction Tammy had enjoyed. All of them were impatient to leave, and Tammy found herself imagining how vigorously and completely all of them would be masturbating as soon as they were able. She was proud of herself for not needing to masturbate, and she carried her afterglow on her face like a trophy.
Once all the women were dressed, David spoke again. “The book for next time is ‘The Count of Monte Cristo.’ I recommend you read it completely and do not be fooled by watching a movie adaptation. Arrive promptly at the usual time. This meeting of the Consequences Book Club is adjourned.”
The end.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Literary Affairs
You have to love writing. You have to or else you never get it done. Other things get in the way of writing, like eating, sleeping, working, and fucking. The longer the story, the greater the commitment required. Writing some days is less a hobby and more of an affair that consumes you.
I find myself getting up earlier and earlier to be alone with my story. I think about my story all day long, fantasizing about the next part. If my plans to write are delayed by interruptions, I become unbearable frustrated. It’s an obsession. The closer I am to the end of a story, the more I look at my schedule to see where I can squeeze an extra moment or two with my story.
And when I do find the time to write, oh my Goddess, is every second a wonder. Time slips away faster than any analogy you could come up with. I bang away at my keyboard, trying to cram every thought into the page while at the same time trying to do it right so this precious time isn’t wasted. It’s a day of anticipation that climaxes in a frenzied burst of writing.
Just like in real affairs, it’s over too soon. Real life demands your time. Commitments that pay the bills drag you away from your love. You try to squeeze in one more line, one more paragraph or finish the scene like a couple would steal one more kiss. You try somehow to make that last piece of writing so special that it will sustain you till the next time you can write. It never works. Within the hour you’re already looking at your day, trying to figure out what you can skip, avoid or outright ignore in order to get back to your writing affair.
I find myself getting up earlier and earlier to be alone with my story. I think about my story all day long, fantasizing about the next part. If my plans to write are delayed by interruptions, I become unbearable frustrated. It’s an obsession. The closer I am to the end of a story, the more I look at my schedule to see where I can squeeze an extra moment or two with my story.
And when I do find the time to write, oh my Goddess, is every second a wonder. Time slips away faster than any analogy you could come up with. I bang away at my keyboard, trying to cram every thought into the page while at the same time trying to do it right so this precious time isn’t wasted. It’s a day of anticipation that climaxes in a frenzied burst of writing.
Just like in real affairs, it’s over too soon. Real life demands your time. Commitments that pay the bills drag you away from your love. You try to squeeze in one more line, one more paragraph or finish the scene like a couple would steal one more kiss. You try somehow to make that last piece of writing so special that it will sustain you till the next time you can write. It never works. Within the hour you’re already looking at your day, trying to figure out what you can skip, avoid or outright ignore in order to get back to your writing affair.
Monday, November 13, 2006
Dom S.O.S.
I was in social party Hell this weekend. Someone at where my wife works was having a party and we were invited. It was held at a nice Atlanta restaurant where over 30 people crammed inside a party room trying to talk over each other. The noise level amazed me as these people would scream to have themselves heard. Obviously what they had to say was incredibly important right? No.
I have come to the sad fact that people my age like to talk about three things: Their jobs, their pets or their children. I would give up porn for three months if I could make it to 2007 without hearing another story about how some animal I have never met did something darling. Round and round in circles people try to outdo each other in dog, cat, boss or children stories. This happens at BDSM munches too believe it or not but if you try hard enough, you can steer the conversation back to spanking and blowjobs. Here in social party Hell though, the best you can hope for is the waiter interrupting for a few glorious seconds before you hear the thrilling conclusion to “My son wore sunglasses and he’s only three!”
I am not saying these people were boring. I’m just saying I was bored. I wanted to be home writing as I am working on another Librarian story that seems to be taking forever. Every story about a dog that got stuck under the couch just seems like a wasted moment of writing.
Someone’s cell phone rang and that is when I started to pray that mine would ring. Then I started to think pro-actively. Maybe I should call someone. No, it’s too loud to talk on the phone. Maybe I should text message someone? Maybe I should send out a nasty command to someone who might at on it. The though occurred to me that maybe Wesley wasn’t a BDSM mastermind, but he just went to a lot of boring parties.
The more I thought about it, the more I liked to the idea of sending out a Dom S.O.S. I started to think of my kinky friends who would respond well to such an out of the blue request. I thought I should send it to all of them. Like some sort of perverse Bat-signal, my cell phone could send out the call to sexy women across the country to reach into their panties and masturbate ten strokes for me. Out loud.
As the person sitting next to me tells me a hilarious story about the time their kid AND the dog threw up, I could instead be listening for the faint sounds of a woman somewhere saying, “One . . .two . . .three . . .”
I have come to the sad fact that people my age like to talk about three things: Their jobs, their pets or their children. I would give up porn for three months if I could make it to 2007 without hearing another story about how some animal I have never met did something darling. Round and round in circles people try to outdo each other in dog, cat, boss or children stories. This happens at BDSM munches too believe it or not but if you try hard enough, you can steer the conversation back to spanking and blowjobs. Here in social party Hell though, the best you can hope for is the waiter interrupting for a few glorious seconds before you hear the thrilling conclusion to “My son wore sunglasses and he’s only three!”
I am not saying these people were boring. I’m just saying I was bored. I wanted to be home writing as I am working on another Librarian story that seems to be taking forever. Every story about a dog that got stuck under the couch just seems like a wasted moment of writing.
Someone’s cell phone rang and that is when I started to pray that mine would ring. Then I started to think pro-actively. Maybe I should call someone. No, it’s too loud to talk on the phone. Maybe I should text message someone? Maybe I should send out a nasty command to someone who might at on it. The though occurred to me that maybe Wesley wasn’t a BDSM mastermind, but he just went to a lot of boring parties.
The more I thought about it, the more I liked to the idea of sending out a Dom S.O.S. I started to think of my kinky friends who would respond well to such an out of the blue request. I thought I should send it to all of them. Like some sort of perverse Bat-signal, my cell phone could send out the call to sexy women across the country to reach into their panties and masturbate ten strokes for me. Out loud.
As the person sitting next to me tells me a hilarious story about the time their kid AND the dog threw up, I could instead be listening for the faint sounds of a woman somewhere saying, “One . . .two . . .three . . .”
Friday, November 10, 2006
Tell Me
Tell me you want it. Tell me you want my cock. Tell me you want my hands to grope, pinch and squeeze till tears come to your eyes. Tell me you want to be tied up, naked on my bed and in positions unflattering but exposed. Tell me how you want me to dress you, train you and strip you. Tell me you want my slaps as much as my kisses. Tell me that you want my paddle as much as you want my cock. Tell me you want the pain as much as you want the caress.
Tell me you’re a dirty slut. Tell me your secret darkest desires, the ones that will shock your friends, your family and your lovers. Tell me what you masturbate to when you pinch your nipples. Tell me the names you want to be called. Tell me what makes you ache, squirm and shudder. Tell me what makes you cum.
Tell me your submission. Tell me your confessions. Tell me your penance. Tell me your greatest desire even if it is your worse fear. Tell me your soul.
Tell me. Because when I reach for the paddle, when the nasty word is on my lips, when my cock is about to enter you, I might not go through with it unless I know that the primal, greedy, nasty, lusty desires inside me are reflected in you. My passions drive me and they scare me too but if I know that what is inside me is reaching out to what lurks within you, then I can let go. I can be the man you adore, fear and crave. I can be myself, just as you can finally be yourself.
Write it, sing it, mail it, dance it, whisper it.
Just tell me.
Tell me you’re a dirty slut. Tell me your secret darkest desires, the ones that will shock your friends, your family and your lovers. Tell me what you masturbate to when you pinch your nipples. Tell me the names you want to be called. Tell me what makes you ache, squirm and shudder. Tell me what makes you cum.
Tell me your submission. Tell me your confessions. Tell me your penance. Tell me your greatest desire even if it is your worse fear. Tell me your soul.
Tell me. Because when I reach for the paddle, when the nasty word is on my lips, when my cock is about to enter you, I might not go through with it unless I know that the primal, greedy, nasty, lusty desires inside me are reflected in you. My passions drive me and they scare me too but if I know that what is inside me is reaching out to what lurks within you, then I can let go. I can be the man you adore, fear and crave. I can be myself, just as you can finally be yourself.
Write it, sing it, mail it, dance it, whisper it.
Just tell me.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Half Nekked Thursday Table
I call this a good start.
There are two policies when it comes to toys on the table. One idea is that you take the submissive and tell them to pick the toys they are comfortable with and we'll put the others away. The other method is to present your toys and tell them that this is what we are playing with and if they have a problem, run now. I admit that I have done both depending on the submissive. Some days I want to play my submissive like an instrument and other days, I want to use the fuck out of them. Both count as a good day in my book.
My collection is a little light at the moment as I am stripping down to what toys I actually like to use. On my to-get list right now is some ankle restraints, some chains and a good flogger that will actually fit in my hand. Oh shit, and more Sharpies. I keep forgetting those.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Erotic Character Sheet: Coach Pain
There is a coach who will never be in the Hall of Fame. No Gatorade will ever be dumped on him. Here is a coach who lives only for the game and that game is sex. The record books have no place for Coach Pain but that’s okay. His athletes remember him with aching muscles, sore holes and sweat.
Coach Pain believes in hard work, but only if his athletes are doing it. He pushes his athletes, training them constantly to keep them in peak performance. His athletes train in stripping, serving, sucking and fucking. They sweat. They practice. Dropping and giving the coach forty takes on new meaning when you train for this coach. Athletes train, train and train some more till their bodies are finely tuned sex machines. All hours of the night he works them over till they can do any activity no matter how exhausted they are. Oh, and they will be exhausted.
Sit-ups, push-ups, lap dancing, jogging, humping, lunges, balance balls, kneeling, side-stepping, crawling, swallowing, pony racing, cowgirl fucking, reverse cowgirl fucking, doggy style, anal, sixty-nine and handjobs are all part of the training regiment. Coach Pain makes the athletes practice each one until they meet his high standards. While they train he barrages them with verbal encouragement-
“Winners always want the cock!”
“There is no ‘I’ in threesomes!”
“Float like a butterfly, suck like a mosquito!”
He wears a dark blue shirt because blue is the color of a winning ribbon. His shorts hang loosely so an athlete is always one zipper pull away from a quick drill in sucking. A whistle hangs from his neck ready to be blown as he helps his athletes blow better. He wears a cap to block out the sun or the dungeon lights while he watches his athletes perform. Armed with a clipboard listing every statistic imaginable, he keeps his athletes in line. The clipboard can also double as a paddle when he feels an athlete can do better. They can ALWAYS do better.
As for his athletes, the uniforms are simple. Grey shirts, grey shorts, tube socks and sneakers. Kneepads of course. Numbers are written on shirts and shorts because every athlete needs a designation when the orgy is fast and furious. No bras of course, because when a body builds sweat, Coach Pain wants to see those damn nipples.
Coach Pain stays on top of his athletes, preparing them for the next big event while at the same time berating them for their sorry performance at the last. For Coach Pain, there is never an off season and every day is the big game. In a sport with no championships, every night of sex is a Super Bowl. Every penetration is Wimbledon. Every climax a World Series. You don’t win by taking it resting. You win with pure intensity, and few are more intense than Coach Pain.
Coach Pain believes in hard work, but only if his athletes are doing it. He pushes his athletes, training them constantly to keep them in peak performance. His athletes train in stripping, serving, sucking and fucking. They sweat. They practice. Dropping and giving the coach forty takes on new meaning when you train for this coach. Athletes train, train and train some more till their bodies are finely tuned sex machines. All hours of the night he works them over till they can do any activity no matter how exhausted they are. Oh, and they will be exhausted.
Sit-ups, push-ups, lap dancing, jogging, humping, lunges, balance balls, kneeling, side-stepping, crawling, swallowing, pony racing, cowgirl fucking, reverse cowgirl fucking, doggy style, anal, sixty-nine and handjobs are all part of the training regiment. Coach Pain makes the athletes practice each one until they meet his high standards. While they train he barrages them with verbal encouragement-
“Winners always want the cock!”
“There is no ‘I’ in threesomes!”
“Float like a butterfly, suck like a mosquito!”
He wears a dark blue shirt because blue is the color of a winning ribbon. His shorts hang loosely so an athlete is always one zipper pull away from a quick drill in sucking. A whistle hangs from his neck ready to be blown as he helps his athletes blow better. He wears a cap to block out the sun or the dungeon lights while he watches his athletes perform. Armed with a clipboard listing every statistic imaginable, he keeps his athletes in line. The clipboard can also double as a paddle when he feels an athlete can do better. They can ALWAYS do better.
As for his athletes, the uniforms are simple. Grey shirts, grey shorts, tube socks and sneakers. Kneepads of course. Numbers are written on shirts and shorts because every athlete needs a designation when the orgy is fast and furious. No bras of course, because when a body builds sweat, Coach Pain wants to see those damn nipples.
Coach Pain stays on top of his athletes, preparing them for the next big event while at the same time berating them for their sorry performance at the last. For Coach Pain, there is never an off season and every day is the big game. In a sport with no championships, every night of sex is a Super Bowl. Every penetration is Wimbledon. Every climax a World Series. You don’t win by taking it resting. You win with pure intensity, and few are more intense than Coach Pain.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Small Amusement and Linking Policy
For a while I have been getting e-mails from bloggers that look a bit like spam. It is usually from someone I have never heard from, and they profess their love for my site and then ask me to link back to them. Now the part that makes me think this is automated spam is that almost all of them have the following line-
"I really like the post about ___________."
This is the only time they mention anything about my blog and what they like about it. For some time, what would fill in the blank would be 'cell phone slave'. Okay, it's bad grammer but it's the Internet. I suspected it was some sort of automated system that was searching for words on my blog but I wasn't entirely sure. Last month though, these e-mails took a hilarious turn as it was Halloween month.
"I really like the post about dead woman."
'dead woman' is apparently the best thing I have written. I have received about 7 e-mails so far praising dead woman. I like to call it Haunted House of Bondage, which you can find on the sidebar there.
Now is as good a time as any to say what fits in that apparently greatly coveted sidebar. You will get linked if one of the following applies,
A) We're buddies.
B) You create erotic content that I like to read or look and it inspires me.
C) You don't write erotica, but you have a sense of humor that makes me smile.
D) You have stopped posting but I am not ready to give up on you yet.
E) I check your site everyday anyway so if I am ever on someone else's computer, I can just go to my site and use it as a temporary favorite places link.
F) You're newish and I think you deserve a bigger audience than you are getting.
I resist the urge to just throw everything under the sun on that link list. It would make my life easier and make a lot of people happy, but when I visit other sites that have a hundred links, then I usually ignore those links. It just looks like noise to me. By keeping my list down to a dozen or so, I hope to really spotlight some people I like to read.
I also try to not update the link list except every couple of months. That gives me time to really be objective when I add/drop links. You can be the best writer I have ever read, but I'm still waiting a month to add you just in case I lose interest next week.
I also don't understand the concept of link trading. If you like me and want to share my content with the visitors to your site, go right ahead. You don't need my permission but at the same time, I do not feel indebted to post a link to you on my page. I'm sorry but I just don't love you that way. As you may well know, I am currently too busy writing about 'dead woman' and my time is limited.
What has been your favorite link request?
"I really like the post about ___________."
This is the only time they mention anything about my blog and what they like about it. For some time, what would fill in the blank would be 'cell phone slave'. Okay, it's bad grammer but it's the Internet. I suspected it was some sort of automated system that was searching for words on my blog but I wasn't entirely sure. Last month though, these e-mails took a hilarious turn as it was Halloween month.
"I really like the post about dead woman."
'dead woman' is apparently the best thing I have written. I have received about 7 e-mails so far praising dead woman. I like to call it Haunted House of Bondage, which you can find on the sidebar there.
Now is as good a time as any to say what fits in that apparently greatly coveted sidebar. You will get linked if one of the following applies,
A) We're buddies.
B) You create erotic content that I like to read or look and it inspires me.
C) You don't write erotica, but you have a sense of humor that makes me smile.
D) You have stopped posting but I am not ready to give up on you yet.
E) I check your site everyday anyway so if I am ever on someone else's computer, I can just go to my site and use it as a temporary favorite places link.
F) You're newish and I think you deserve a bigger audience than you are getting.
I resist the urge to just throw everything under the sun on that link list. It would make my life easier and make a lot of people happy, but when I visit other sites that have a hundred links, then I usually ignore those links. It just looks like noise to me. By keeping my list down to a dozen or so, I hope to really spotlight some people I like to read.
I also try to not update the link list except every couple of months. That gives me time to really be objective when I add/drop links. You can be the best writer I have ever read, but I'm still waiting a month to add you just in case I lose interest next week.
I also don't understand the concept of link trading. If you like me and want to share my content with the visitors to your site, go right ahead. You don't need my permission but at the same time, I do not feel indebted to post a link to you on my page. I'm sorry but I just don't love you that way. As you may well know, I am currently too busy writing about 'dead woman' and my time is limited.
What has been your favorite link request?
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Lost Girls Again
'Lost Girls' by Alan Moore and Melinda Gebbie challenges me. That’s the simplest way to describe it. I find myself amused, conflicted, disturbed and intrigued with every page. I finished reading it Thursday and I’m still digesting it.
The premise is genius. Dorothy from the ‘Wizard of Oz’ books, Alice from ‘Alice in Wonderland’, and Wendy from ‘Peter Pan’, meet at a European hotel. They find that they share a lot in common so they take turns telling each other stories from their adventures. They also have non-stop sex with each other.
What intrigues me is that the three characters did not have wild adventures in fantasy worlds. What happened is they had sex, and because sex is new and magical, they remember it in a fantasy context because it is the only way they reconcile what they have been through. Dorothy had sex with a wild farmer who was actually shy and timid instead of a real cowardly lion. Wendy’s Captain Hook was actually a military man who stalked the park that she and her lover frolicked in. Alice’s Mad Hatter tea party was a wild orgy clouded by opium. It’s a delightful idea as we get caught up in the ‘mundane’ version of the story and then you turn the page and realize that the wild hot sex you were reading was the ‘real’ version of say, how Dorothy met the Tin Man. It makes the fantastic version seem quant compared to what really happened.
The first part that conflicts me is the age of the characters. There is a lot of underage sex. I understand that a lot of us had sex before the age of consent, and I could argue that the age of consent in this time period was lower, but there is something distinctly disturbing to my 20th century libido to see Wendy playing masturbation games with the Lost Boys. About the time I did get used to reading, the subject of incest rears it’s head and I go right back to being conflicted. It was hard to lose myself and really enjoy the sensuality when there was so much incest and underage sex going on.
While the characters recount their childhood adventures, there is also the continuing story of the events going on in the hotel. Wendy is in a sexless marriage to an older gentleman, Alice is an aging lesbian shunned by her family and Dorothy, well she’s just plucky and horny. The threat of World War One looms at the end of the book and you can’t ever shake the feeling of how fragile everything is. These women find comfort in each other and reclaim the young super sensual women they once were. That story trumps the experiences they recount, and in my mind, saves the story and gives it heart. Part of me can’t help feel that if this took place in modern times, Alice, Dorothy and Wendy would be sex bloggers, trying to make sense of how they turned from young sex stars to frustrated housewives.
The part that challenges me the most is a discussion held by the characters with the hotel owner in the third book. The hotel owner reads aloud a story about a family that is incestuous. Wendy objects that the story is not proper. The hotel owner agrees, but argues that it is pornography so it makes everything okay. It only happens on the pages of the book so there is nothing to upset about. As Monsignor says,
“Fiction and Fact: Only madmen and magistrates cannot discriminate between the two.”
And later this line,
“Pornographies are the enchanted parklands where the most secret and vulnerable of all our many selves can safely play”
Now, as an erotica writer I often read and study how censorship works. The basic premise is that a book should be banned because the ideas within are dangerous to some reader. There is always the double standard of sex and violence where a book about the murder of twenty people is considered okay, but a book about sex involving twenty people is dangerous. It’s clear here that the creators of ‘Lost Girls’ want us to understand that censorship is wrong. Okay, I get and support that. What happens to characters in a book isn’t what is happening in real life. However, it feels to me that creators then dare us to hold true to that belief by deliberately illustrating the story of incest that is told next by the women. We are asked to not get offended by the incest, but instead to treat it as a secret desire that we can entertain without guilt because we are not acting on it.
I don’t know about that. I mean I kind of do just from being a BDSM writer. I had many vanilla erotica friends who thought a story about domination was just very pretty abuse porn. To them, what I was writing should be banned which struck me as funny because to a lot of people with Puritanical values, the vanilla explicit sex they were writing should be banned. My porn is your disgust and your porn is someone else’s disgust and so on.
I think that’s where I get stumped. I may feel a story shouldn’t be banned, but it doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it. That’s the weakness of any Erotica, no matter how well done. I applaud Lost Girl’s art, its writing and a majority of the book is just fucking awesome. It’s the twenty percent that in real life would be abusive to real people that makes me unsure of myself. I can’t let go as much as Monsignor suggests and it makes me examine how I view porn in general. Which I guess is the sign of a good book. It makes me think.
Lastly I want to discuss the visuals of the book. This is a gorgeous three book collection. It’s massive. It has a variety of art styles in it and plenty of pages that I would love to own as posters or prints. The style is reminiscent of the age and can take a little getting used to but like the writing, the rewards are well worth the effort. At seventy-five dollars, I feel that I got every penny’s worth. No matter how I feel about the story, the sheer beauty inside will be something I will always treasure. I wish more erotica was given this level of grandeur in its presentation.
The premise is genius. Dorothy from the ‘Wizard of Oz’ books, Alice from ‘Alice in Wonderland’, and Wendy from ‘Peter Pan’, meet at a European hotel. They find that they share a lot in common so they take turns telling each other stories from their adventures. They also have non-stop sex with each other.
What intrigues me is that the three characters did not have wild adventures in fantasy worlds. What happened is they had sex, and because sex is new and magical, they remember it in a fantasy context because it is the only way they reconcile what they have been through. Dorothy had sex with a wild farmer who was actually shy and timid instead of a real cowardly lion. Wendy’s Captain Hook was actually a military man who stalked the park that she and her lover frolicked in. Alice’s Mad Hatter tea party was a wild orgy clouded by opium. It’s a delightful idea as we get caught up in the ‘mundane’ version of the story and then you turn the page and realize that the wild hot sex you were reading was the ‘real’ version of say, how Dorothy met the Tin Man. It makes the fantastic version seem quant compared to what really happened.
The first part that conflicts me is the age of the characters. There is a lot of underage sex. I understand that a lot of us had sex before the age of consent, and I could argue that the age of consent in this time period was lower, but there is something distinctly disturbing to my 20th century libido to see Wendy playing masturbation games with the Lost Boys. About the time I did get used to reading, the subject of incest rears it’s head and I go right back to being conflicted. It was hard to lose myself and really enjoy the sensuality when there was so much incest and underage sex going on.
While the characters recount their childhood adventures, there is also the continuing story of the events going on in the hotel. Wendy is in a sexless marriage to an older gentleman, Alice is an aging lesbian shunned by her family and Dorothy, well she’s just plucky and horny. The threat of World War One looms at the end of the book and you can’t ever shake the feeling of how fragile everything is. These women find comfort in each other and reclaim the young super sensual women they once were. That story trumps the experiences they recount, and in my mind, saves the story and gives it heart. Part of me can’t help feel that if this took place in modern times, Alice, Dorothy and Wendy would be sex bloggers, trying to make sense of how they turned from young sex stars to frustrated housewives.
The part that challenges me the most is a discussion held by the characters with the hotel owner in the third book. The hotel owner reads aloud a story about a family that is incestuous. Wendy objects that the story is not proper. The hotel owner agrees, but argues that it is pornography so it makes everything okay. It only happens on the pages of the book so there is nothing to upset about. As Monsignor says,
“Fiction and Fact: Only madmen and magistrates cannot discriminate between the two.”
And later this line,
“Pornographies are the enchanted parklands where the most secret and vulnerable of all our many selves can safely play”
Now, as an erotica writer I often read and study how censorship works. The basic premise is that a book should be banned because the ideas within are dangerous to some reader. There is always the double standard of sex and violence where a book about the murder of twenty people is considered okay, but a book about sex involving twenty people is dangerous. It’s clear here that the creators of ‘Lost Girls’ want us to understand that censorship is wrong. Okay, I get and support that. What happens to characters in a book isn’t what is happening in real life. However, it feels to me that creators then dare us to hold true to that belief by deliberately illustrating the story of incest that is told next by the women. We are asked to not get offended by the incest, but instead to treat it as a secret desire that we can entertain without guilt because we are not acting on it.
I don’t know about that. I mean I kind of do just from being a BDSM writer. I had many vanilla erotica friends who thought a story about domination was just very pretty abuse porn. To them, what I was writing should be banned which struck me as funny because to a lot of people with Puritanical values, the vanilla explicit sex they were writing should be banned. My porn is your disgust and your porn is someone else’s disgust and so on.
I think that’s where I get stumped. I may feel a story shouldn’t be banned, but it doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it. That’s the weakness of any Erotica, no matter how well done. I applaud Lost Girl’s art, its writing and a majority of the book is just fucking awesome. It’s the twenty percent that in real life would be abusive to real people that makes me unsure of myself. I can’t let go as much as Monsignor suggests and it makes me examine how I view porn in general. Which I guess is the sign of a good book. It makes me think.
Lastly I want to discuss the visuals of the book. This is a gorgeous three book collection. It’s massive. It has a variety of art styles in it and plenty of pages that I would love to own as posters or prints. The style is reminiscent of the age and can take a little getting used to but like the writing, the rewards are well worth the effort. At seventy-five dollars, I feel that I got every penny’s worth. No matter how I feel about the story, the sheer beauty inside will be something I will always treasure. I wish more erotica was given this level of grandeur in its presentation.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Blogger Team-Up
Wordslut was in town on business this week. It was the first time we had gotten to meet since she started editing my stories and I wanted to spank her a few times for some of the missed deadlines.
I kid. I just wanted to spank her.
This is the first blogger that I have met and it was an interesting experience. First, of all, she looks way cooler in person than the bare glimpses you get in her cell phone HNT’s. It was actually disorienting to look at her. There is over a foot in height difference between us so we spent a lot of our first hour commenting how short/tall the other was. I highly recommend that you set aside an hour for this conversation when you meet your Internet friends. It’ll take that long.
So what do sex bloggers do when they meet? Collaborate of course. I have a love for photography but realized long ago that I could only really focus on one creative hobby and be good at it. I chose writing because out of all my submissives, none of them ever would consent to erotic photography and photography does take two to tango. I mentioned to Wordslut that her crappy phone camera didn’t do her justice and she said that she needed to be taken pictures with a real camera.
Cue the porn music. I broke out my camera and we started clicking away. It was so damn exhilarating. I am creative every day with my blog and my writing, but it was just a blast to work in a visual medium. I had her sit at my desk and work on her laptop while I slowly undressed her and took pictures. I created a short visual story of a horny blogger. It was far too fun. I think I am terribly spoiled.
The best part was when Wordslut started blogging. Holy shit, that was fucking hot. Sex blogging while dirty pictures are being taken. I have picked up a new perversion.
We did get to the spanking. I feel that spanking is a gift. It’s something I practice and I try to get really good at, so when I meet someone who likes spankings, I want to give them one. Kind of like how your aunt Beth makes really good fudge so she gives it to everyone at Christmas. Really, it’s all about how nice and generous I am.
Plus Wordslut has a wonderful ass. Oh my Goddess. Her buttock is small enough to fit in my hand.
I bent her over my table and pulled her skirt up to her ass. I pulled her panties down to just under the curve of her ass. One hand gripped her hair and kept her head back while I spanked her with the other hand. I used my hand for awhile, and then I used the pizza shovel.
At one point I picked her up and put her over my shoulder while I spanked her. I’m sure it was bad for my back but damn, that was cool. I wish I could have taken a photo of that.
My favorite moment though is the picture above. Wordslut saw these cool pirate theme stockings and bought them just for her Atlanta trip. The gift of Pirate Lingerie is a true gift indeed.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Half Nekked Thursday 10th Anniversary
Roughly fourteen years ago, I met a pretty blonde woman who was as big a geek as I was. She was living with three guys while forcing herself to go to college. She was literally surrounded with suitors every day because hell, she was a hot blonde who’s favorite game was Rifts and who stayed up late to play Civilization. She had a wicked sense of humor and an inner strength that shined like justice. I asked her out and she sweetly explained to me that I was not her type, that she wasn’t interested in a relationship and that we had no chemistry. She then explained that she would was more likely to date my best friend at the time because he was kind of cool and sexy.
Three months later me and no-chemistry girl were giving each other handjobs and hickies in the kitchen while her roommates were watching Star Trek Next Generation in the living room.
Four years later we got married.
Now ten years later we are celebrating out tenth anniversary. We have endured hypothyroidism, therapy, evil mother-in-laws, a Flood of the Century, crazy submissives, blown knees, and Atlanta traffic to reach a milestone in our marriage. We are still here. We still haven’t decided what to eat for dinner on any given night, but we know it will be together.
Our marriage defines us in a lot of ways. She’s my best friend. She’s the one who always looks out for me and I’m the one who believes in her when she finds it hard to believe in herself. We have relationships outside our marriage but the relationship that is our marriage is sacred. I’m her husband and she’s my wife.
I still give her shit about turning me down for a date way back when.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
My Turn To Read
Today I'm sitting down with 75$ of porny goodness called "Lost Girls". It's a fascinating book. Sex is on every page but I get too caught up in the tragedy and hope that seems to soak every page. I'm a third of the way through it and let me tell you, I could have gone my whole life without seeing the sex scene between Wendy, Peter and Wendy's brothers, but now that I read it, I can't help shake the feeling that everyone's sexual history is filled with uncomfortable incidents we wish didn't happen, but they did and they are a part of us. Sex is one of those topics that because of laws and/or personal shame, we edit constantly to be brighter and more ideal than it really is. I find myself wondering what kind of a world it would be if we were just honest about what has happened to us in sex, and more open about it. I feel that the only people that really benefit from people not talking about sex is the predators like poor Alice's Mr. Bunny.
I'm off to read. Be nice to one another and just because I am in a loving mood, give someone an unexpected kiss today.
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