Tug of Lust

Saturday night we hung out with a group of our kinky friends watching bad 80's movies. One of us loves rope as much as I love pirates and she was working through various limb restraints. At one point she had bound each of Ashley's hands separately, and there were loose ends on each wrist. I playfully grabbed the ends and Ashley pulled her hands free from me. I held on because deep down I apparently am a ten year old boy who doesn't like toys taken away.

Before long, our rope friend was binding my wrists to Ashley's. I was sitting on the couch and she was sitting on the floor. Ashley started to pull with all her strength and I just sat there on the couch, not giving any ground. Every once in awhile I would pull her closer to me to show that I could. It wasn't easy and I could feel my muscles straining, but it was clear I was just stronger than her.

There was just something primitively fun in that game. Ashley pulled and strained and all she succeeded in doing was making her breasts jiggle delightfully. Being physically stronger than someone is something that nice sensitive men don't brag about but I couldn't help feel that surge of supremacy. Woman, you can struggle, but I am stronger than you. You can pull and fight, but you can't move me. And if you can't move me, maybe I can use my strength in other more delicious ways. Wouldn't that just be terrible?

Eventually my wife picked a side and tickled my ribs. I lost my concentration and Ashley pulled me to the floor. There was a funny moment when I was about to plunge into Ashley breasts that I realized that losing wasn't so bad, but I was able to stop myself. Now I have these rope burns on my wrists that give me all sorts of story ideas.

Plus, I have one more reason to go to the fitness center this morning.

Georgia Kink Fuck Day

Today most of my local friends are getting laid. Not just laid, but they are stepping off to rendezvous with significant kinky others for marathon spanking submission fuck sessions. I feel like a state wide holiday had been declared and I have to still go to work.

I think part of it is that Spring is in the air and with half of them, these are new relationships. That makes it even harder because as the Universal Good Friend, I am the one they come to with their afterglow to tell talk about their adventures. I treasure their confidences, but man, it would be so much easier to hear their stories if I had one of my own today.

Posting has been light this week due to lack of sleep and post birthday bliss. I'm sure though that after I hear a dozen stories of kinky sex I am not having that I will be more inspired for next week. I have a touching spanking story planned for next Wednesday, a look at a sex manual from 1969, and maybe a few pictures of naughty things. Who am I kidding? There will definitely be pictures.

Build A Better Sanctuary

Writing is never easy. You have to have an idea, motivation, time and persistence to make a story work. You're creating an altered state of reality where your idea of how you want the world to be collides with a reader's preconceptions. You're touching people millions of miles away and in some cases, your stories are reaching people years ahead in the future. You're doing something magical, isn't it time your writing space reflects that?

Take a look at where you write. Now ask yourself, does it inspire you? Does it look like the laboratory of a person creating society challenging fiction? does it look like a shrine to primal lusts and desires? Does your space make you want to turn someone on?

Well it should. The human mind is a creature of habit. Give it a space that makes it feel comfortable and creative, and the human mind will leap into action. You can train your mind to write more impulsively if it feels like it is in a place to unleash. In time you won't be able to sit down to your writing place without your fingers itching to write.

Creating the space can be tricky. Don't litter it with icons and knick-knacks that look like something a writer should have, but has no meaning to you. Surround yourself with objects that remind you of the things or ideas you want to write. It can be a sexy little figurine, it can be a picture of your current lust object, or even a quirky little thingamajig that reminds you of your favorite writer. Get rid of bills, magazines and anything that doesn't directly make you want to tell a story.

Don't limit it to your physical space; modify your computer as well. Pick wallpapers that remind you of your current story as soon as you sit down. During BDSM Beach, I had nothing but beach scenes and bikini babes on my desktop. Cut down the number of programs you are running. Only have two web browsers running: One for dictionary.com and one on your favorite search engine. No mail programs, no downloaders and for the love of your muse, no chat programs.

Find your inspirational music. For me it's instrumentals and weirdly enough, anything by Placebo. You want music that creates a mood and yet is unobtrusive with it's lyrics, leaving it up to YOU on filling the silence. The music should become a soundtrack to your writing, not something you emulate. Let the music follow your story, not tell you where to go.

Now some of you have to share your writing space. You might have children hanging around or you might have spouses who don't know your erotic alter-ego. All is not lost. You just have to build a secret lair. Your wallpapers can be of locations as opposed to characters. You can have an object focus that you bring out of your desk only when you are alone. The principle is still the same no matter how secretive you have to be. Instead of a shrine, create a hideout.

I hope I have changed your writing area. The key is to figure out how you approach writing. If you feel it is spiritual, then infuse your space with inspiration and icons. If you feel it is logical fabrication, then turn your space into a private workshop. Whatever you choose, make sure your space is worthy of the unique art you are creating.

Scuttled

Cleaning up after a birthday has never looked so pretty.

Cakes Ahoy

Last night was one of those nights where I feel like I can never complain about my life again. My wife and friends threw a pirate birthday party for me filled with hot wenches and men with eye patches. It was funny, sexy and very Arrrggg all night long. My toybox got a serious upgrade of quality paddles and restraints while my fledging photography studio got a king's ransom of lighting equipment. I am a little humbled to have friends who care this much for me.

I have to share my cake with you though. This first cake was something I saw years ago with my ex. I made the comment that i wish I was 12 again so that I could have a birthday cake like that. Well she remembered that offhand comment and here I am at 34 with a gorgeous pirate ship cake.



But wait, there's more!

Ashley decided to combine my love of pirates with my love of breasts and created this masterpiece.



I think those are the famous Cleavage Islands. They were made from rice crispy treats and today I will discover just how yummy they are.

Today I am thirty-four, and I plan to dine on boobs. A pirate's life for me.

Lucky Boxers

Tomorrow is my birthday. I'll be thirty-four tomorrow but today is the day of the big surprise party. Usually I plan my own birthdays down to the letter but this year I've had a lot of background anxiety connected to my birthday. Nothing in particular, just this weird sense that I wasn't worthy of having one. I couldn't shake the feeling that having a birthday was going to be a bother to other people.

So I told my wife I couldn't plan my birthday this year. I asked her to come up with something that I didn't have to plan. If it was a picnic lunch with me and her that would have been great. I just couldn't be a part of the process. As soon as I asked her, I felt this huge weight lift. Now whatever happens will be because people want to do it.

Well apparently the birthday got so large that there is a mailing list for it. Apparently it is going to be something so grand that I may just have a stroke. Apparently it is something so big, they are still working on it right now. My day has been planned down to the hour and it consists of keeping me busy until the big event can be launched at 6pm.

I have to say I am a little humbled. My anxious mind thought it would be too presumptuous to even invite people to attend a party about me and now I am discovering that it just may eclipse Frolicon for pure excitement. Wow. How did I get this lucky? How did I end up with so many great friends?

So today I am wearing the lucky boxers. Not that I need any more luck, but it just seemed appropriate. And if anyone would like to surrender their booty, now would be the time to do it. I mean, it is a my birthday.

SwashPeeps

Bet you didn't know there was an actual Booty Lounge, did you? Well, a sign at least. When I get my grand personal dungeon, this will be the tacky sign I adorn it with because that's just how I sail.

The wife did an awesome job with the pirate Peeps while the lovely Sara did her usual lovely job of being pretty.

Click the picture for it's full giant size glory.

Growling

I'm feeling lean and mean today. It's not a bad day, and nothing has bothered me. I just have this itch that isn't going to be scratched unless I can make someone hurt. I want to slap something beautiful. I want to be the bad guy. I want to snicker while someone grovels. I could write but I find it just digs a deeper hole when I am in this kind of mood.

So let me direct you elsewhere today. Bella has a wonderful story that I loved. You can read part one and it's conclusion now.

Ruben Esq is my favorite art blog at the moment. Enjoy.

And if you want to enjoy the smartest, funniest and most intriguing webcomic, then behold the wonder that is XKCD

And finally, Tenacious D: The Pick of Destiny is not a movie I can recommend. Even I, a huge fan of their's can not recommend this movie. But the ending to the movie was better than the whole rest of the movie combined. Weirdly enough, you don't even need to see the movie to enjoy the ending. It's pretty self-explanatory. So let me share one of my favorite movie showdowns.



Gods, I just love the line, "Deactivated lasers with my dick!"

Lap of Luxury

This is what happens when you get invited for dinner at my house. You might get drafted into becoming a prop or you might get drafted into wearing props. sometimes Model Sara is wearing the yellow Peeps, new friend Ashley is wearing the pink Peeps and Jason provides the lap. Man, it sucked to be him.

My lovely wife used chocolate icing to make the pirate Peeps.

I'm not terribly happy with this picture. I like the composition but once again the light is my enemy. I was fiddling with shutter speeds and apertures this photoshoot and it shows. I know I'll get better though. In fact, It reminds me a lot about writing and how I can't even look at some of my early work. In the meantime, this picture reminds me of the fun time I had abusing my friends as models.

Fiction: Damned Respite

The devil leered at her. His mouth hung open, and a long tongue hung from his jaw like a dangling penis. The rest of his body was detailed in red and black ink — infernal red skin, glorious bat wings and a dark shadow between his thighs. The devil was barely the size of a playing card, but he gave the woman a shiver.

“Where did you get that tattoo?” she asked.

Her paramour for the night lifted his head from her breast. He didn’t really have an answer. He didn’t want to confess that the tattoo had appeared one morning after a forgotten Friday night in Atlanta. Chicks frowned on stories like those.

Instead of answering, he reached down below her belt and touched her in a wicked way in a very naughty place.

“Oh!” she said. The devil was quickly forgotten.

Later that night, the Devil awoke to the smells of sex and liquor. He stretched his wings and yawned in the darkness. He could feel his prison breathing. The snores vibrated through the skin, making the Devil’s teeth rattle.

To read more, click Whole Post


The Devil pushed against the skin, knowing in his heart that it wouldn’t let him go, but having to try nonetheless.

The skin held him tight.

The Devil spread his wings and took flight. He couldn’t leave his prison of skin, but he had free reign inside. His ink body flew up the arm and took a hard turn onto his prison’s chest. A thrill went through him as he saw his prison’s latest conquest. She was a full-figured woman with plenty of skin to play on.

The Devil smiled and thought back on those lovely summer days when he would have feasted on such a woman. He thought of spearing her with his cock, crushing her breasts with clawed hands and engulfing her with black wings as he stole her away from whatever weak being she belonged to. Those had been the days of true glory. Now he was just a trapped demon imprisoned in flesh.

The prison’s arm was draped across the woman’s chest. The Devil flew down the arm and slid off onto the woman’s breast. Such transference was allowed only when souls were asleep. The strange inks that bound the Devil would force him back to his prison as soon as one of them woke up. It was a lesson he’d learned on 1,000 frustrating mornings.

But for now, the Devil could at least slither over new flesh. Instead of hairy male limbs, the Devil could enjoy the smooth ride of lotion-soaked feminine skin. Instead of hard muscles, he could linger over pillow-soft breasts and squeezable hips. Instead of a sleeping cock, the Devil could lay his head on lovely folds of a well-fucked cunt.

It was a pleasure but also a torture. All these delights he could see and feel through his ink shadow body, but he could truly partake in none of them. No matter how hard he tried, he could never bite down on the soft pink nubs of her nipples. He could float over the lips of her mouth, but he could never feel their kiss. Worst of all, he could rub his cock over her cunt as much as he wanted, but he would never feel the sweet juices inside.

The Devil had had his fill of frustration for one night. He flew back to the arm that linked this world to his prison. Coming back along the same arm, was another shape! The Demon watched in wonder as another ghost of ink and desire flew along the skin passage.

It was a she. The Devil half-noticed that the tattoo was another demon complete with wings, red skin and curved horns. That was far less important than the fact that she had breasts topped with night-black nipples. The fact that they might be kindred souls in captivity didn’t cross his mind as he looked at her cunt, which was dripping black ink. Questions about how she’d come to be imprisoned seemed pointless when he saw how lovely her waist-length black hair was. She was a she and he was a he.

She made the first move. The Devil laughed as the female tackled him. She wrestled with him, sending both their bodies spinning into her prison’s breasts. The Devil kept laughing as the greedy demoness assaulted his body. He laughed because she attacked him as if he’d had any thought of escaping.

There was no foreplay except for the grabbing of wrists and pulling of hair. The Devils were creatures of desire and ink. His cock entered her cunt, or maybe her cunt engulfed his cock; it was all the same to them. Teeth bit down as claws scraped backs. Their wings coiled around one another endlessly as each tried to assert dominance.

Silently, they tumbled over the contours of their prisons. Ink doesn’t speak, and no air could pass through their laughing mouths. Tonight, they were more than happy to just fuck and touch.

Against a cock erect with dreaming desires and a need to piss, the Devil fucked his partner.

In a valley between breasts, the Devil was mounted by his curvier counterpart.

On a smooth masculine back, the Devil licked his companion while her wings fluttered in orgasm.

On a pale white thigh, the Devil was sucked until he shot a stream of black ink down her throat.

The sun came up. The demons fucked faster. At any moment, one of their prisons might awaken, and they would be pulled back to slumber in frozen display once more. They were cruel to one another, biting and scratching in frustrated anticipation of their coming separation. Anyone else might have been tender and tried to coax affection to remember each other by on long lonely nights. Devils prefer to remember each other with bite marks and angry bruises.

It was the woman who awoke. The Devil was in the middle of a delicious thrust when he felt the ink harden. He snarled in silent rage that his time was over. His fury was mirrored on his companion’s face. Her beautiful angry face was the last thing he saw before sleep took him.

“Damn, that was a rough night,” the woman said. She snuck out of a stranger’s bed and located her clothes. She didn’t remember coming home with him, but that’s tequila for you. At least he looked cute, and by the soreness between her thighs, the woman could tell it had been a good fuck. No sense pushing her luck and waking the guy up. Better to remember him as the sleeping fuck than the awake jerk he might turn out to be.

She passed the mirror on her way out the door. A dozen obscenities sprang to mind, but she managed to stay quiet. She looked more closely and then really wondered what happened last night.

Right there on her hip, caught in the act of fucking her tattoo from behind, a male devil stared blankly up at her. His claws were firmly dug into the inked breasts and her red-inked mouth was caught in an “O” that was almost audible.

“Oh, well,” the woman said. “At least they look like they belong together.” Then she made herself a vow to stop drinking tequila.

The end.

My Favorite Frolicon Picture

This is a shot taken at Frolicon. A woman was walking down the hall talking onher cell phone. The light was awesome. Her shiny black coat was awesome. The mundanity of the hotel hallway was twice as awesome. To me this was Frolicon: kinky fantastic creatures emerging from the normal dull world.

I asked her if i could take her picture.

"Sure, after this phone call."

"No, no," I said. "Stay on the phone."

She struck a pose.

"No, no. Keep walking," I said.

This beautiful sexy woman walked down the hall like she owned it. But I could hear her telling her friend on the phone what was going on. She had a girlish delighted voice as she bragged, "I'm getting my picture taken."

Peep Show x 2

Last night started as a dinner party and quickly went into porn. Sometimes-Model Sara has big dreams of being a foot fetish model because she believes there will be free shoes involved. She broke out the Peeps to the applause of an enthusiastic audience. The wife broke out her various fabrics and created backdrops. One happy dom reluctantly agreed to pose with Sara's feet while another female friend who is pseudonym-less at the moment got the Peep treatment on her feet as well.

That was my Sunday night. Peeps, suggestive foot poses and pretty girls doing what I tell them to do. I have been a damn lucky man lately.

Photgraphing with so many people around was harder than I would imagine. I don't have a foot fetish, so taking pictures of feet is not something I daydream about. I needed time to pause, analyze the situation and figure out how I would find feet sexy. Instead, I had to answer a dozen questions from every participant. I didn't get the chance to really talk to my models and make them feel comfortable. It was like being a storm and trying to find the best drop of rain to photograph. Things happened and I had some measure of influence, but it wasn't the level of control I am used to working with. Everyone had a great time but I look at my pictures and few of them pop out at me.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I had a lot of fun and I learned a lot from my mistakes with the camera. I'm just a little fascinated by the creative differences between the two mediums so I'm going to be talking out loud about it for awhile.

Feeling Good

Last night I spanked a newish friend of mine at a play party. It was close to an hour of hand on ass, hand on throat, hand in hair fun. Afterwards I felt like I could wrestle a bear and win. I wanted to lead a small band of Spartans and defend a pass against thousands. I wanted to challenge a steel driving machine to a race to the death. I just felt like I was cast in the right part at the right moment for the right story.

I spent the rest of the play party content and sated as I watched other people play. I also got a three-woman back massage which quite frankly was it's own slice of heaven. Man I had forgotten how much I miss tactile sensation. I need to pry the wife away from her computer more.

Today I'll try to round up all those emotions and feeling and use that energy to write something.

The Collette-Ashbee Collection

When my anxiety stopped me from writing, I sought out other creative outlets. One of them was playing online text based games where you create a character and role-play them with other people. I being the kinky sort gravitated to sex oriented games. I was invited by my kinky friends to come to The Marketplace, a game based on Laura Antoniou's books of the same name.

I decided to create a sort of shorthand character. I wanted something that was almost a cliche so that you could describe him in one word and know his deal. I went with the idea of a Librarian who sought out books for an erotic collection. Being a writer, I couldn't keep it simple. Every day that I sat down with Wesley, I fleshed out the library he worked for and what kind of strange man could work for them. I determined that Wesley had obsessive compulsive tendencies and that he was almost a victim of his work. His desires were heavily influenced by whatever book he was procuring as well kept a fever pitch by the erotic nature of his work. Being a BDSM oriented game, I went through several submissives and slaves who assisted Wesley in the library.

The game eventually died out and I went back to writing. There was a sense of loss though. Wesley was a weird man, but his library fascinated me. I liked the idea of a place that sought out the erotic and treasured it. When I go to used bookstores, they almost never have an erotic section and when I turn in my books, the erotic ones almost always get rejected. I started to obsess a little over what happens to erotica. Who kept it? Was it all ending up in landfills?

So I sat down and wrote "Librarians of the Colette-Ashbee Collection". I chucked the character of Wesley, who as a neurotic man who had more in common with Adrian Monk than anyone else. I replaced him with Mr. Dillon, a far saner if just as strict character. I created Claire based on my own personal desires as well as the best qualities of the submissives I have played with. I established the idea of an apprenticeship because I want the library to last forever. Funny how even in stories a writer lays the foundation for something to survive the writer.

These stories are special to me because they combine so many of my interests. I love the formality between Mr. Dillon and Claire. I love the quest to seek out erotica. I love glasses on smart submissives. I love how so far, Claire learns to appreciate someone else's desires and kinks. I could easily sit down and write endless scenes with these characters but I push myself when it comes to these two. I want to portray them just right.

Librarians of the Colette-Ashbee Collection

Succulent Sutra Part One

Succulent Sutra Part Two

Succulent Sutra part Three

Succulent Sutra Part Four

Succulent Sutra Part Five

Perks of the Collection

The Reluctant Actress Part One

The Reluctant Actress Part Two

The Reluctant Actress Part Three

The Quiet Ones

The Library of Ms. Ash

Character Building

Hard Lessons

Oral Tradition

No Spoilers

Deserving

The Haunted Library

Preview: Who Ate Claire Currie?

Midnight Rendezvous

Aunt Jolene's Joy Shack

Forgiveness

Art

Claire Currie

Yes, Claire Can

Claire bending Over

Message from Claire Currie

One More Story

Last night I was working pretty late. I had my Trillian running at unusual hours, which is what attracted the attention of an old flame of mine. We had a great relationship but the usual demons of distance, her boyfriend and her future ended it. We stay in touch but we had moved into friendship instead of naked lust. She sent me a message and we chatted off and on during my work.

After a few idle exchanges, she told me she was going to masturbate now and did I have any inspiration for her?

Damn. There was a time when she would have begged me for permission to masturbate. Earlier than that, there was a time when she was incapable of even mentioning her own pleasure out loud. By the time our relationship was over not only was she talking about her pleasure, she was begging for it on the phone and performing for me on her webcam. She was a shy insecure woman who blossomed into something pretty damn special. I'm emotionally proud of her for becoming what she wanted, but I also feel a pang that I don't get to physically benefit more from it. The saint in me is glad to have helped her but the selfish dom in me wants to claim what I planted in her.

I typed back to her. "Imagine yourself under my desk. I'm still working but I have you sucking my cock. I'm twisting your hair with my free hand till tears run down your face. The only pleasure you get is what you can attain from humping my foot. Through out it all, I'm threatening you that if you don't suck well, I'll break out the nasty painful paddle you fear so much."

It wasn't a great fantasy but it was an old one. It's one we had talked about before. I didn't need to say more because the memory of what we had fills in the blanks. Also, I think there is something inherently special in doing someone else's fantasy. It doesn't have to be creative or unique, it just had to be something she didn't think of. It has to be something I want her to do so that she could derive pleasure from doing it for me.

So off she went and back to work went I. In the old days I would have insisted on a thank you note. Now I have to content myself with a memory and the knowledge that for one more night, she submitted to be a character in a very short story I wrote for her.

Dominant Directional System

Are you a new dominant?

Are you a dominant who sometimes gets that insecure uncertain feeling?

Are you an experienced dominant who sometimes could give a rat's ass about what to do next?

If any of these apply to you, then you will want to hear about this exciting new product from Von Madd Laboratories!

The Dominant Directional System (DDS) provides you with constant directions for your submissive. Using satellites, a microchip implanted in your submissive's ass and the latest in Patriot Act spy technology, the DDS is constantly updating itself with new information to help your BDSM scene go smoother. Drawing from such powerful resources like Yahoo Groups, blogs and phone sex lines, the DDS is all the mentoring you will ever need!

Just put on the special DDS mirror sunglasses and insert the ear piece. Now enter in a few facts about your submissive like whether he/she is a brat, is an only child, is a pain slut, or has unresolved mother issues and the DDS will take a full minute to make the right calculations. Once primed, the DDS will begin feeding you instructions that only you can hear.

>"Smack her ten times with the red flogger."

>"Suck in your stomach and growl menacingly."

>"Ask her, 'Who's your daddy, bitch?'"

>"Put condom on."

>"Fuck her ass like you mean it."

Choose from several different voice options such as

>Strict English Lord

>Cruel Military Interrogator

>Bored Housewife

>Know-it-all Dom Who's Only Real Dom Training Was a Two Hour Management Course at Kinko's.

>Sexy Blogger With A Goatee

And now with the latest upgrades, the DDS is 78% less likely to commit the following errors that previous models have performed.

>"Smack her ten times with the red Flock of Seagulls."

>"Stop and ask her if the reason she likes spanking is because her mother never really showed any discipline to her because she was a step-child."

>"Ejaculate and put the condom on."

>"Grab him by the throat and force him to play six hours of Worlds of Warcraft."

At the low low price of $299.99, now is the time to buy! Act now, and you can get a $100 discount if you lend your current submissive to Von Madd Laboratories for the weekend. Get the dominant advice you need today, order now!

Fiction: Art of Her Desire

This is an old story I wrote under a different name but I think you'll like it. It just fits the mood I am in right now.

“Thank you very much for helping me move these boxes,” I said to my new neighbor, Susan.

“You’re welcome, Tsukki,” she said, butchering the pronunciation of my name while simultaneously clearly not meaning it. “Phil wasn’t doing anything today, anyway.”

I smiled. Phil wasn’t as uneager as she tried to make him sound. The blond man had been watching me from his window when I first drove up, and I could see the anxiety on his face when I started to unpack. He couldn’t wait to help the beautiful Asian woman who had moved in next door.

“Your husband is very strong,” I commented.

Susan snorted.

“What is in all these boxes?” Phil asked. His eyes fell to the opening in my shirt and the pale swell of my breasts. My short stature often allowed men to see down my blouse. It wasn’t accidental.

“They hold my paintings,” I said.

To read more, click Whole Post


Susan and Phil looked around with a start.

“How many do you have?” Susan asked.

“More than I should,” I admitted. I touched Phil on the arm, and if I hadn’t had him before, I knew by the flush on his face that I did now. “Thank you for your strength this day.”

Susan, perturbed, took her husband’s arm. “What kind of paintings do you do?”

•••

“Completely inappropriate!” my husband snapped.

He dropped my painting to the floor, and I winced as the corner bent. I resisted the urge to pick it up. Instead, I just stood there with my head bowed respectfully.

“Sex! That is all you paint!” my husband ranted. “My position demands a wife who engages in more acceptable pursuits. You are over 50, my wife! Your mind should not be polluted with such base things. Why can’t you draw mountains and streams like the governor’s wife?”

“Because sex is more beautiful,” I replied.

My husband snarled and commanded me to not paint any more lewd pictures.

•••

The next morning, I went outside to sweep my sidewalk. Across the street, several teenagers stood waiting for the school bus. I knew they were staring at me, and why shouldn’t they have? I was new in their neighborhood, but beyond that, they found me exotic because I am Japanese. They see my face as inscrutable. To them, I could have been anywhere from 18 to 30 years old.

My long black hair was loose, blowing in the morning wind. I was wearing the lightest of kimonos, a pink robe with yellow dragons. My hips swayed back and forth as I swept and I could feel my kimono opening around my chest as I worked. I had neglected to wear a bra, something the boys across the street were sure to notice.

I bent down to pick up something that didn’t exist, sneaking a glance at them. All of them were looking at me. At school, they would talk about me. At home, they would fantasize about me.

They too were now mine.

•••

“Tsukki, I warned you not to paint any more of this filth,” my husband said.

“You did,” I said respectfully. He had discovered that I was not going to the garden shrine every morning to meditate. I found that the mornings were best time to paint for I carried the glow with me all day long.

“You have disobeyed me for the last time,” he warned. “Tomorrow, they all burn, and if I catch you painting again, I will ask the governor to send you to the nuns to clean up your wicked ways.”

“Of course,” I answered, with as much venom as I could summon while still being respectful.

•••

“You’re new here,” the older man said. Americans love to state the obvious. A walk around the block had produced quite a few stares but no introductions till now. This man was getting his mail and happened to be by the street.

“Yes, my name is Tsukki,” I said as I offered my hand, fingers down.

His face lit up. It must have been years since a woman offered him her hand like a lady, as he remembered from his youth. He took my hand gently and gave it a slight squeeze. I liked how delicately he treated me.

“My name is Ned,” he said. “I visited Korea when I was younger. The people were very nice.”

“I find the people here to be nice, too,” I said. “I haven’t meet many of my neighbors yet, but those that I have met have been pleasant. I think my questions about where the grocery store is and where I can find good paints tend to exhaust their patience, though.”

He frowned briefly. “Well, if you need someone to show you around town, you can always ask me. I’m usually home all day. You said that you paint? What do you paint? My son paints houses, but I imagine you do something nicer.”

“I paint my desires,” I told him. The shy smile that came to his lips warmed my heart.

He was mine now.

•••

I gathered my paintings together for one last look before my husband burned them. The variety amazed even me. Where had such carnal images come from? Why did they never cease to excite me? I had paintings of couples, groups and even people alone, pleasing themselves. They were all beautiful, and I hated that they must all perish.

“They are beautiful,” a voice said.

I turned to see a strange man. He was tall, almost as tall as the strange barbarians we had heard so much about. His hair was black, but his beard was yellow, although sometimes when he turned his head, it appeared red. An expensive robe adorned him, and on it were patterns of tigers and dragons. My cheeks burned when I realized that the tigers and dragons were mating.

“You have much talent, Tsukki,” he said. “With much practice, you will be the greatest artist of all time.”

“Thank you,” I said. “But by the command of my husband, I can paint no longer, and I am too old to wait for his death.”

The strange man chuckled. “You are old, but that can be fixed. What if I said I could give you the chance to live long enough to paint to your heart’s content? What if I could free you from your husband and the chains of any man?”

“I would say that you must be either a god or an oni,” I replied.

“I am both. I will give you these gifts for a price. Every ten years, I will take your six best paintings. They will hang in my Crystal Palace until the end of all time. Is this offer fair?”

“What is the trick?” I asked.

“No tricks,” he said. “Just consider me the best patron an artist could ever have.”

I agreed. He approached me and took my wrinkled face in his hands and kissed me. It was strange. I felt two tongues enter my mouth.

“If you wish to save your paintings in the morning, sleep with your husband tonight.”

•••

At the grocery store, I couldn’t find any of the foods I craved. That was no surprise. I didn’t plan to stay in town long, maybe a year or three, so I knew I could make do. I would have to dig out my old recipes and make most of my food myself. It would take time away from my painting, but I would live, and there would always be more time for my art.

I asked the bagger to carry my food to my car, and he readily agreed. He was too shy to speak, but I could feel his eyes on my bottom as I walked in front of him. I was wearing jeans; my first husband would have fainted at if they had been invented in his time. They clung to me in such a way that nothing was left to the imagination.

“Thank you very much,” I said when he dropped my bags into the car. His name tag said he was called Sean.

“No problem,” he said quietly and rushed off. When I pulled out of the parking lot, I caught him spying at me from store entrance. There was wistfulness in his eyes that I knew well.

There was no doubt that he was mine.

•••

For my husband, I painted my face white. I wore my prettiest shoes and my most expensive hairpins. He was surprised when I came to his chambers, but his arrogant smile told me he thought this was a bribe to stop tomorrow’s burning. That didn’t stop him taking me to his bed.

He made love, and I had sex. There was a passionate quality in our joining that hadn’t been there before. My thighs clenched around him and his mouth never ceased to adore me. I could feel the magic tingling against our bodies, but he was too busy thrusting to notice. When he spilled his seed, his moan was like that of a tortured soul.

The next morning, I was younger. It was only by a year, but a woman notices these things. One less wrinkle here, a few pounds missing here and darkening of my white hair told me that the stranger had not lied. I would have years aplenty.

That morning, my husband neglected to burn my paintings. He hinted that he could be distracted from his threat by another night like the previous one. Because he was a man who thought with his groin and not with his eyes, he hadn’t noticed that his wrinkles had deepened and that his hair was thinner.

Of course, I came to his bed again that night.

•••

At the paint store, a man approached me and offered to paint me. I was amused by the novelty of posing. I accepted his offer and sat for him at his house later that evening. His name was Charles, and he wanted me to remove my shirt. It was easy to oblige.

For an hour, he painted my round breasts with their soft pink nipples. His technique was horrible, but the experience was unique. I resolved to do a better painting of my breasts later to counter the insult of his art.

Charles tried to seduce me that night but I politely declined. There was no need to take him then.

He was mine.

•••

Ten years after the death of my husband, my patron came to visit me.

“You are looking lovely,” he said. That day, he wore a robe of mating monks and foxes

It was true. After the death of my husband and the death of two lovers, I was as young and as beautiful as when I first married. No matter how many years I took, I couldn’t get any younger than I’d been when I first had sex. It was fortunate limit, all things considered.

“Thank you. I owe it all to you.”

“Yes, you do,” he said. “I have selected my six favorites. Your talent has improved already.”

“I have one question please,” I said. “My husband left me a generous amount of money, but it won’t last forever. Marrying a new husband will be more difficult as I get older, and I don’t know how I will raise more money. I considered selling some of my paintings, but I didn’t want to sell one that you might want.”

“Tsukki, sell your paintings as you wish.” He laughed. “If one of those is my favorite, then I will handle acquiring it from whom ever you sold it to.”

Ten years later, one of my costumers was saddened to discover that his painting had been stolen. He paid me the same sum to paint him another, but it wasn’t as beautiful as the original. Perhaps that was a good thing, for if it had been as beautiful, he might not have kept the second one, either.

•••

I used my front yard to sunbathe, because if I’d used the back, no one would have seen me. My black bikini was stark against my eternally white skin. Along with eternal youth, I appeared to have gained the ability to heal from any injury, even sunlight. Although I couldn’t tan, I enjoyed the warmth of the sun and used the time to plan my next painting.

“Excuse me,” my other next-door neighbor said from his lawn. “You’re new here, right? My name’s Kenneth.”

I smiled at him. His wife had assured me yesterday that her husband never did yard work, but there he was, cutting his hedges. I rolled over onto my side to give him a better view.

“Enjoying the sun?” he said inanely.

American, British or Japanese, all men said the same stupid things as a pretense to watch me. We talked for a few more minutes till his wife called for him from the house. She gave me a disapproving glare as he came in. He didn’t come back out that day.

He was mine, and I think even she knew it.

•••

The Coven of Six stood in front of me while I remained kneeling. I was nude and covered with welts from their whips. All six of the women circled me and touched the whip marks with their fingers till they were satisfied.

“You are already favored by the Thigh-Crusher, what more do you want?” the black witch said.

“Ladies, the times move on, and civilization grows more advanced,” I petitioned. “I have taken husbands and lovers, but people are beginning to notice their deaths. I tire of seduction. I tire of breaking romances. I want to regain my youth in a way that frees me for more time to paint.”

The redhead witch kneeled in front of me and said, “We can teach you how, but there will be a price.”

“Isn’t there always?” I asked.

Six times, I pleasured each of the witches, and not a year did I gain from any of them. But they kept their word. They taught me what I needed to know. When I had finished pleasing them, my jaw aching from licking, they taught me the spell that I have used to this day.

•••

My backyard was finished. With chalk and sweat, I had drawn the lines through the grass. On the fence surrounding the yard hung certain charms. I stripped off my clothes and climbed into the special swing I had hung from a tree. My legs spread lewdly and my shoulders supported by the various ropes, I waited comfortably for the moon to reach its peak.

In their homes and on their beds, my men began to stir. Every man who lusted for me, every man who’d masturbated while thinking of me and every man who’d thought of me as he laid with his wife was affected. The magic kept their wives asleep and silenced questioning dogs. From all across town they came. Their eyes were half-open, but their minds were asleep. They thought that it was a dream and that they dreamed of me.

Kenneth entered my yard first. He stepped out of his underwear and stood between my open legs. His manhood was hard, and my flower was wet and waiting for him. Kenneth entered me under the full moon, and I moaned at my first taste of sex in too many years.

Phil came over the fence. He would have waited for Kenneth to finish, but I was too impatient. I leaned back in my flexible swing, and Phil walked over to my whispering mouth. From his silk pajamas, his manhood poked out, proud and pulsing. I took him between my lips and sucked hard.

At both ends I took them. Kenneth’s hands squeezed my thighs, while Phil held my hair in his hands. The wind caressed our bodies as the three of us merged. I trembled as Kenneth’s thick manhood stretched my tiny flower, and I moaned as Phil’s member filled my mouth.

It didn’t take long for Phil to release his seed and a year of his life into my mouth. Kenneth gave his contribution to my eternity soon after. His seed sprayed inside me, granting me an orgasm and another year to paint with a single burst.

They stumbled away, returning to their homes with only erotic dreams to comfort them. Behind them, others had come. There were the boys who had waited by the bus. Coming through the gate was the old man, Ned. I could hear cars pulling up and knew that Charles, Sean and others were coming, too.

I welcomed the young teens between my thighs. Each lasted for only a few thrusts, and each fondled my breasts with a passionate fury that made me laugh with delight. Each gave me a year of his precious youth, and I gave each of them an erotic experience they would try for the rest of their lives to re-create.

Charles was next between my thighs, and I was pleasantly surprised by how good he was. His hips moved like the waves, and his hands were gentle in comparison to the rough treatment the teens had give me. The tree creaked as it held my swing against Charles’s powerful thrusts. He brought me to climax twice before he allowed himself to spill inside me. He was a better lover than he was an artist.

Countless men moved between my thighs or into my mouth. I was surprised I had affected this many. There were men I didn’t even recognize, people who must have seen me on the street or in a store and carried my image home with them.

When my throat could swallow no more, I began to take them into my hand. My small fingers could barely wrap around their large members, but they came nonetheless. Their seed arced in the air and landed on my pale body to be absorbed by the magic that stole their years.

The moon rose higher as the men gave me their offerings. My flower became slick with their seed, and my thighs were numb from their constant thrusting. I took them all, young and old, married and single. Tonight was the culmination of weeks of fantasy, and I felt it was my duty to pleasure them all for the life they were giving me.

Sean tried to enter my bottom, and I consented. The swing was easy to lift, and he happily penetrated my small opening. It felt good to be speared like that, and I moaned to my heart’s content under the moon. Up and down he dropped my suspended body until his manhood plugged my anus with his seed.

When Ned’s turn came, I decided to take him in my mouth. Over the years I had come to know when a man’s climax would be his last, and I felt that his should be special. His manhood reeked of his age, but I swallowed it with the respect his age deserved. His wrinkled balls slapped my chin as I bounced over his member, and though it took awhile, I finally sucked the seed from his root.

Over time, all of the men eventually left. I fell from the swing exhausted but invigorated. The men returned to their homes as I crawled inside my house. In the morning, I would shower, but for now, all I wanted was to sleep in my own bed with the seed of 100 men coursing through my body.

The next afternoon, someone discovered Ned’s body. I saw the ambulance drive by while I was painting. My fingers were sore from clutching so many manhoods, but I had to do this one painting before it faded from my memory. It depicted Ned’s face at the point when his member climaxed in my lips, and I wanted to capture the mixture of death, satisfaction and joy that had appeared on his tired eyes.

The end.

Back to the Lab

Right now I have a picture from Frolicon as my desktop wallpaper. For years I have written porn to my liking, but to be visually making porn that I like is a strange head trip. It makes me feel like I can mold reality. I want to write stories for the pictures I make. I want to photo illustrate my words. I want to go out into the world and cast a Ms. Currie, a Mr. Dillon and weirdly enough, I really want a picture of No-Pants Wally.

With BDSM Beach over, I feel the need for a more fantastic oriented story. Now that Cassie knows what she wants and how to get it, I want to walk away from young submissives and go spend some time with people I don't seem to ever read about. There are 30+ year old submissives who need their stories told. There is a young man who doesn't know he wants to be a dom. There's a scientist who is never satisfied with sex and there is a married woman who needs to know what her friends are up to. There's a myth I want to tell and a catharsis that needs to get out. I have stories lining up in a row and they ain't going to write themselves.

I feel creatively potent right now. I feel like my mind is engorged and rock hard. I want to thrust my imagination into someplace willing and receptive.

Let's see what can happen today.

Fiction: BDSM Beach Part Thirteen

It was over. The long week ended too quickly. Cassie was back at the airport standing with her friends — no, her lovers. She realized that she loved them all, dom, dom’s wife and fellow submissives. She loved them in that special way that you love people you meet on vacation. In the future, when she thought of them, she’d remember them being a part of the best week of her life.

“God, I can’t walk straight,” Alisha said. It was true. None of them could. Once Kevin had broken the ice with Cassie, sex, submission and bondage had become an all-day event. Orgies in the living room, blow jobs in the shower and kinky sex games at dinnertime had become part of their normal routine. In just three days, Cassie had lost count of how many times she had fucked Kevin and his submissives. It was a wonderful feeling, even if it meant that now they could hardly move anymore.

To read more, click Whole Post


“You’re going to e-mail me?” Alisha said. Cassie was struck by how naked Alisha’s neck appeared. Their collars had been removed before the ride to the airport, but Cassie could still feel the phantom weight around her neck.

“I promise,” Cassie said.

“And you’ll read my blog?” Alisha said. Cassie could tell that this was the more important request. That blog wasn’t a vanity project to her; it was the only place where she felt she could really be the sexy submissive she knew she was.

“Every day,” Cassie said.

“You’d better e-mail me, too,” Melinda said. “I’m going to need all the support I can get. It’s going to be hard to go back to being a normal girl.”

Cassie shook her head. “None of us is normal anymore,” she said. “I’m going to start placing personal ads, and you girls should, too.”

Melinda frowned. “That’s a scary thing to do. I mean, it was one thing to come out here, but to try to find another dom? I don’t know.”

“Melinda, you’re the strongest girl I know,” Danielle said. “I think you’re strong enough to do what it will take to make you happy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Melinda said, and all the girls laughed. Danielle frowned at first, but then she reluctantly laughed, too.

“Kevin gave me some books about being a dom to read,” Danielle said. “That doesn’t mean I’ve decided to become one.”

“You haven’t decided yet, but we just know,” Cassie said. The other girls nodded. “You have a mean streak in you that you need to express. Besides, I think that as much as your parents run your life, you want to be in charge for once.”

Then it was Danielle’s turn to be speechless. Unable to argue, she just hugged Cassie. The other girls joined in the hug. A week of fucking had made them comfortable with touching, but it was their friendship that made them intimate.

“We all need doms, or subs, as the case may be,” Cassie said. “I think we should promise never to settle again. From now on, we’re getting what we need.”

“Keep talking like that, and I might need to put your face back between my legs,” Danielle said.

The girls giggled and hugged each other more tightly.

“Not to interrupt,” Julia said, “but Cassie, Kevin wanted you to help him with the luggage.”

The girls laughed as Cassie groaned. “Yes, ma’am.” she said.

She started to head off, but Julia grabbed her by the hair. The brief jolt of pain to her scalp made Cassie giggle. It was funny how pain now reminded her of sex and flirting.

There was no need to ask what Julia wanted. Cassie turned to the older woman and gave her the kiss that Julia demanded. It was a bold kiss, which was the only kind Julia knew how to do. After the kiss, Julia just smiled and turned around. Cassie almost expected some sort of goodbye, but then she realized that was it. Actions were Julia’s words.

Kevin was in the parking garage. As she approached, Cassie remembered that everyone had carried in her own luggage. Despite the soreness of her body, she got a new surge of energy.

“Hey, Cassie,” Kevin said. He was leaning against the car. It was parked in the darkest corner of the garage.

“Julia said you needed me,” Cassie said.

Kevin kept smiling. “And what do you think I need you for?”

“You need me to fuck,” she said, loudly and clearly.

“Damn right,” he said. He opened the door to the car and grabbed her by the arm. He had her bend over with her ass outside the car and her elbows on the seat. Cassie was smiling, happy to be of service one more time. She felt her shorts get pulled down, and a tremble ran through her body. Kevin’s cock entered her moments later.

“Fuck me, sir. Fuck me as much as you want,” Cassie said.

And he did.

The end.

Identity

I went to Frolicon yesterday. It's a kinky geek friendly convention that blew te pants off Midsouthcon in pure fun an information. It also blew the pants off half the attendees which makes it a different kind of fun. This is the first con I have been to with a sex orientation and I have to say, it's going to make going to an all gamer convention a lot harder to return to.

I'm overloaded at the moment to really comment on Frolicon at the moment except for one personal note. This is going to take a moment so bear with me.

I attended a photoclub seminar which was a lot like I had imagined it in one of my first librarian story. I got to hang around real amateur photographers as well some very friendly models. I quickly discovered that somke models prefer to be the one in charge, shifting between poses that they like; while others got excited when I told them what I would like them to do and they complied. My first thought on the subject was hey, I'm a dom so of course I prefer to be calling the shots.

Later, I walked through the vending area which was loaded with sex toys and kinky gear. They had one small book and art section and I felt pretty disappointed. None of the gear really interested me.

Later I attended a seminar on emotional edge play. That's when you do your damn best to break someone mentally using their worse fears or traumas. The point of the seminar was you pretty damn well know how to put them back together afterwards. What I found amusing is at one point the speaker asked the audience for personal experiences and I realized I had none. Well, none except the fiction I write. I started reviewing some of my stories and wondering which qualified for the kind of play she was talking about.

I was in the dungeon later watching people play. Most of the play was interesting and I actually knew a lot of the people playing, but I found myself bored. They lacked context. It was just sex and beatings. I daydreamed about who might be swapping tonight, or what their day jobs were.

I took 407 pictures. I saw women as creatures that caught the light. I helped a sexy friend of a friend to her room and all I could think about was how much I loved her skin tones and what sort of pictures would make that skin pop.

Last, I attended a burlesque show that had violent interpretations of the seven deadly sins. I had front row seats and was two feet away from naked flesh. My thoughts? I was rewriting their scenes because some of them were too similar.

So this morning I look back at all that and I realize that I identify much stronger as a writer and a creative pornographer than I do an actual kinky person. Oh I love spanking and I would love to have my own Ms. Currie one day; but I don't focus myself on the skills that would make me a better dom. I like making porn, whether it's visual fiction or text fiction. BDSM is a release and certainly a subject that interests me in fiction, but I am wondering how much my own BDSM desires are just an extension of my creative outlet.

Fiction: BDSM Beach Part Twelve

“Come on, Cassie,” Kevin said. He didn’t look back as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom. This was it.

Cassie finished drying the last plate and followed him. Melinda gave her a thumbs-up, and she returned it. Danielle gave her a fake frown before Alisha pinched Danielle’s ass. Cassie had a feeling that the girls would entertain themselves quite well without her tonight.

It took a lot of willpower for her not to run up the stairs. She made a decision that if she had waited this long, she could do it with dignity. Besides, she was afraid she would trip if she ran.

To read more, click Whole Post


The bedroom was lit by candles. The four-poster bed had a piece of rope on each of the posts. A small side table had been pulled up with a variety of paddles laid out upon it.

Julia was waiting, nude except for her collar. Cassie felt her heart race as Julia stepped behind her and grabbed her arms. Metal cuffs clicked around Cassie’s wrists before locking into place. Julia spun Cassie around so they were face to face. Julia then took Cassie’s face in her hands and kissed her mouth.

It was just like the kiss they’d had in the water. Julia used Cassie’s mouth for her pleasure, and Cassie was happy to give it. Their nude bodies pressed together while Julia’s hands roamed all over Cassie. Cassie wanted to touch back, but the handcuffs kept her hands pinned and useless, which only made her that much more aroused.

A strong hand grabbed Cassie’s collar, pulling her away from Julia. Kevin pulled Cassie to him, and it was his turn to take her mouth. He was twice as forceful, twice as passionate and twice as hungry. His strong arms encased her, binding her to his body as surely as any rope or steel.

As Kevin took her mouth, Cassie could feel his cock pressing against her. He was nude as well!

He broke the kiss and said a single word. “Suck.”

Cassie dropped to her knees. It was a fluid motion that looked as though she had practiced it for years. The truth was that it was a move she had imagined doing 1,000 times. The only practice she’d had was picturing it during masturbation. She was pleasantly surprised to find that that was good enough.

His cock was hard and waiting for her. She wanted to look at it, examine it and worship it, but his orders had been clear. She was to suck. Cassie opened her mouth and took his cock between her lips, then sealed them around him and sucked like the good submissive she’d always wanted to be.

How long has it been since Cassie had a cock in her mouth? To her, it seemed like 100 years. She had tasted another woman’s mouth, and she had tasted cunt, but it seemed like way too long since she had tasted cock. There was something wonderful about having her first dom’s cock in her mouth, and she sucked and licked as though his cock were the greatest thing she had ever had in her mouth.

Feminine hands grabbed her nipples. Kevin’s hand gripped her hair so she wouldn’t stop sucking. That didn’t stop Julia from pinching and twisting Cassie’s nipples. The cruel woman was worse than the nipple clamps, worse even than horny boyfriends in the relentless way she tortured Cassie’s nipples. Julia was trying her best to hurt Cassie, and Cassie wasn’t sure if it was some sort of weird jealousy thing happened.

One savage twist of her nipples made her moan with Kevin’s cock in her mouth. When she moaned, Kevin moaned twice as loudly and thrust his hips towards Cassie’s face. Cassie understood. Julia was tormenting her to heighten Kevin’s pleasure. Cassie was an instrument Julia played to please him. It gave the pain Cassie was experiencing a romantic context.

After a few more pained moans, Kevin pulled his cock out of her mouth. Cassie didn’t want to let go. The cock popped from her reluctant lips, and for a moment, she stuck her tongue out to chase it.

“You’re even greedier than Danielle,” Kevin said. He looped his fingers around her collar and dragged her to her feet. “Don’t move a muscle.”

She stayed still as she was asked, but her stillness lasted only until she felt Julia smack her behind with a paddle. She hissed and rose up to her tiptoes. Kevin kept his grip on her collar.

“Your ass might be too tender, but there are other parts of you,” he said. Before Cassie could react, he gave her left breast a heavy upward slap.

“Ouch!” she cried.

“Crying out is fine; moving is not,” Kevin said, and he smacked her other breast twice as hard. “In fact, I think I like hearing you scream.”

Cassie didn’t disappoint. She was soon screaming as he slapped what felt like every inch of her body. He started with open-handed slaps coming down onto her breasts with frightening speed. Julia stepped behind her, grabbing her arms so there was nowhere for the girl to hide. Left, right, left, right, her breasts suffered his slaps till her tits felt swollen with sensation.

Kevin didn’t stop with her breasts. He gently slapped the sides of her body, and Cassie cringed at the sharp stings on her stomach and hips. He slapped down her thighs, spreading her legs so he could deliver a series of sharp slaps to the inside of her thighs. Slap, slap, slap, he went down her body and then back up. She felt like one big target for his hands.

What helped her through the non-stop slapping was the look on his face. There was an excitement there that was infectious. He was enjoying himself, and he enjoyed every reaction he got out of Cassie. His grin grew bigger and bigger as he turned her body into one giant stinging welt. Cassie felt pride in that grin, knowing that he wouldn’t be that happy without her submission.

He slapped her face, stunning her for a moment. She thought that maybe she had offended him. For one brief second, she worried that he was angry and wondered what she must have done to deserve it. When she saw the excited smile on his face, she realized that this, too, was for his enjoyment. She took the second slap to her face with a smile, and by the fourth slap, she was leaning into his hand.

“Cassie, are you ready to fuck?” he asked.

“Yes, yes, please!” she said.

He laughed. “I’m sure the girls heard you downstairs. What about you, Julia? Are you ready to fuck?”

“Yes sir, please let this slut fuck for your enjoyment,” Julia said. She said it formally as though she had said it a million times before. Cassie felt a longing for the day she would be taught to respond like that.

“Very well,” Kevin said. They removed the cuffs from Cassie’s hands, and Julia rubbed Cassie’s wrists. They led the girl to the bed and tied her spread eagled. They fastened her ankles and wrists with rope and leather cuffs. A pillow was placed under her head so she could see what they were going to do to her.

Bound and helpless, she watched as Julia crawled into bed. The older woman crawled over Cassie, kissing all the places Kevin had slapped. No, kissing was too gentle a word. Julia bit; she nibbled and sampled Cassie’s body with her mouth. Thighs, hips, nipples and neck, Julia was just as thorough with her mouth as Kevin had been with his hands.

Julia kissed Cassie. She groaned as Julia devoured her mouth. In a distant part of her mind, Cassie realized that she liked Julia’s kisses best of all.

The bed shifted, and Julia groaned. Cassie realized that Kevin had penetrated his sub. She could see him fucking Julia from behind while Cassie’s body lay helpless beneath him. It was unfair. It was teasing the fuck out of her. It was incredibly beautiful and dominant.

Julia groaned again and then returned to kissing Cassie. This time, Cassie became the aggressor. She kissed and fucked Julia’s mouth while Kevin fucked Julia’s cunt. Cassie knew her purpose: She was to arouse her dom’s sub. Having a purpose, and one that was against her own interests, just made her so damn wet.

The candles burned low before Kevin pulled out of Julia. Cassie wasn’t sure whether Julia had climaxed or not. Maybe Julia’s climax wasn’t the point. Maybe Kevin was just finished with her. Whatever the reason, she slinked off the bed while Kevin crawled over to Cassie.

“Tell me,” he said.

“Fuck me!” she yelled.

Kevin chuckled. “Never be quiet,” he said.

He entered her. Cassie knew rationally that he was just a man, and it was just a cock, but her body went into overdrive, anyway. It wasn’t a cock that was in her cunt; it was the culmination of her dreams. He wasn’t just a man on top of her; he was the first man who had ever asked her submission and whom she’d decided to give it to. It wasn’t the act of fucking they were doing on this bed; it was a carnal act of submission they were performing on this shrine.

The ropes held her tightly even though she had no wish to go anywhere.

The bed creaked, telling the girls downstairs that Cassie was the one being pounded tonight.

Kevin bit her shoulder as he fucked her; it was just a little more pain to which she could surrender.

She screamed as she came, reveling in the sound of her own freed voice as much as in the orgasmic pleasure.

She had no memory of the ropes coming loose. She barely recalled Kevin rolling off her. Time was acting funny, like on a long summer night. Instead of minutes and actions, she was aware only of sensations. Julia’s cunt was brought to her face, and she licked. Kevin’s cock was placed in her hand, and she stroked. Paddles were applied to her body, and she took them with fresh cries of pain and joy. She was entered again, by fingers and later a cock, but as in a dream, she wasn’t sure who did what. It didn’t matter. Cassie was there to suffer, fuck, enjoy and submit.

And that she did until the candles winked out and the last tired body fell into bed. Cassie lay in bed, breathing and feeling. Slowly, she felt Julia’s breathing deepen as sleep took her. Then Kevin snored gently, succumbing to sleep as well. Cassie lay between them, warming both of their bodies like a shared pillow. It was a long time before she could let go enough to sleep as well.

To be continued.

Peep Prayer

My first public posted erotica story was Bikini Brothel. It was a parody of the bad kind of stories I was reading. To give my story structure, I used the story frame and conventions of late night B-movies which I enjoyed watching. In my story, Heather and Michelle inherit a brothel from an aunt who had her women dress in full dresses. Heather and Michelle changed the uniform to bikini's, and business booms. This happened while every one had double digit orgasms. I think there was a Ninja involved too.

There are many psychological reasons for why I decided to start with a parody. For one thing, if you are writing 'funny' sex, than there is little pressure to actually be sexy. Second, if your story blows chunk then you can hide behind the idea that the story was meant to blow chunks to be funny.

As I get more involved with photography, I start to see a bigger reason I started with parodies that I had never noticed before. Parodies cannibalize existing material. It's almost paint by numbers except you are replacing creativity with humor. You just take a plot you already know and recreate it.

Which brings me to today's picture. I find I have almost zero creativity when it comes to taking pictures. Right now I am just too overwhelmed by the technical aspects to have my own ideas. To help me out, I have created a strange sort of self-taught method that involves trying to duplicate other people's more inspired shots.

Todays picture started with an idea from an Easter Peep set with a twist from one of my favorite Urban Gypsy pictures. Keep in mind I'm not going for an exact recreation. I'm just trying to set an interesting goal and then try to reach it. I'm sure in time I'll have my own novel ideas. If writing was any indication, that will only take a year or three. Sigh.

Fiction: BDSM Beach Part Eleven

“What the hell is this?” Kevin asked.

Cassie shivered, and it had nothing to do with the morning breeze on her naked body. The girls were bent over the deck for their regular morning spankings. Kevin stood behind her, and she didn’t need to turn to look to know exactly what he was upset about. Her ass was a mess of bruises from Danielle’s spanking last night. She hadn’t seen it herself, but the whispered apologies from Danielle this morning had told her that it was bad.

“I said, ‘What the hell is this?’ ” Kevin repeated. “Who spanked Cassie’s ass?”

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“I did,” Danielle said.

Kevin stomped over to Danielle and whacked her ass with his paddle. “Oh, you did? Who the fuck said you could spank Cassie?”

“Ouch!” Danielle said, but before she could answer, Melinda spoke up.

“It’s my fault, sir,” she offered. “I suggested we play with Cassie last night.”

Kevin gave Melinda a backhand with the paddle as well. “Did you now? And why the fuck did you do that?”

This time, it was Alisha’s turn to speak out of turn. “Because Cassie was really upset last night! We decided to take care of her.”

There was no paddle hit for that response. Unable to turn around, Cassie just stared ahead at the white-sand beach and the aqua blue waves. A pit of guilt opened inside her, and she tried to fill it with the beauty of the beach. No matter what happened next, she thought, at least she’d have Cancun and her friends for a few awesome days.

A full minute of silence passed by before Kevin spoke again. “Julia, give Danielle some lessons in spanking. Use Melinda and Alisha for practice.”

“What are you going to do?” Julia asked.

“I’m going to take Cassie out for breakfast,” Kevin said. “Get your street clothes, Cassie.”

Oh, shit, Cassie thought. Is he going to kick me out of the house?

Kevin said nothing to her on the walk to the restaurant. She didn’t dare speak. She was in trouble, and her stomach was twisting into new shapes. She hadn’t felt this guilty since her dad had walked in on her masturbating. Cassie was dreading Kevin confronting her about last night, so much so that she almost wished he would kick her out of the house now instead of dragging it out over breakfast.

They sat down, and Kevin ordered for both of them. The place was surprisingly full for the early hour, but Cassie had begun to understand that there was no such thing as a quiet moment during spring break. She just hoped nobody would overhear Kevin when he explained why he was throwing her out.

“Did you have fun last night?” he asked.

“Uh, yes,” she said meekly.

“I can’t hear you,” he said. “Louder.”

“Yes,” she said.

“What did you girls do last night while I was asleep?”

Cassie fiddled with her silverware. “Just … umm…”

Kevin leaned forward in his chair. “Listen to me very carefully, Cassie. If you do not speak up and start answering me clearly, I’m going to enter you into every wet T-shirt and bikini contest being held this week. Now, answer the question.”

Cassie swallowed. “Danielle spanked me, and then Alisha rode my face while Melinda ate me out.”

Kevin blinked in surprise. “Fuck, I would have liked to see that.”

Cassie blushed. Her cunt stirred as she thought about Kevin watching it all. She daydreamed about it for a little bit until she noticed the frown on his face. Oh, shit, that’s right, she was still in trouble.

“Cassie, Melinda said they did that with you because you were depressed. Why were you upset?”

Cassie tried to respond, but the words died in her mouth again. Kevin’s eyes narrowed, and she saw that he had no patience for her inability to speak. It scared her, making the words even harder to speak.

“Was it because I didn’t invite you upstairs?” Kevin asked.

Cassie nodded.

“Say it,” he snapped.

“Yes!” she blurted. She had responded instantly before the fear could hold her back.

There was an odd look on Kevin’s face. “Really? I didn’t think you liked me.”

Cassie recognized the look on his face now. It was disbelief. It was a little insecurity. It was the same look she had on her own face when a pretty boy expressed an interest in her.

“I don’t believe this,” she said. “I’ve spent all week waiting for … you know. And last night, you just went to bed.”

“Last night, I was tired,” Kevin said. “It’s true. Sometimes, doms just want to sleep. There’s also something really sexy about having a house full of submissives and going to bed with just your wife.”

He grinned. The momentary insecurity was gone, and he had resumed his usual confident look. “Also, I’m a dom, Cassie, not a mind reader. Yes, I know doms are supposed to be mind readers but that can happen only after you really know somebody and have been with them for a long time. Strangers like us have to talk and communicate. I’m not going to do anything to you unless I am really sure it’s what you want. Now tell me, what have you been waiting for?”

“To fuck,” Cassie said quietly.

“No, no,” he said. “Say it loud. Say it like you fucking need it.”

“I want you to fuck me,” Cassie said. The people at the tables around them all turned to look at her. Heat spread across her face as she blushed.

“And suck my cock?” Kevin asked. When she nodded, he snapped, “Say it loud.”

“I want to suck your cock!” Cassie said quickly, before the fear could stop her.

“And what about your cunt?” Kevin asked.

“I want you to eat my cunt!” Cassie said far too loudly for the crowded restaurant. People were openly staring at her, and a few guys actually cheered.

“And what about your ass? Is it too sore to be spanked?

“Spank my ass!” Cassie said. “Spank it as long as you want!”

The waitress hurried to their table. “Please, ma,am, lower your voice.”

Cassie looked at Kevin and saw the pride in his face. He loved hearing every dirty thing she said. He loved knowing exactly how she felt. After being quiet for so long, she felt energized to finally be speaking the very thoughts that she had carried secretly for so long in her life.

“Kevin, you can do anything you want to my body for as long as you want!” she almost shouted “It’s up to you whether you take me or not!”

He nodded. “Thank you, Cassie. Waitress, I assure you she’ll be quiet now. I’ve heard everything I wanted to hear.”

To be continued.

Peep Show

A few weeks ago a friend sent me a link to a great art project. The woman took some Peeps and placed them on her nude body. I liked the idea and decided to try some BDSM apparely variations. I made some wrist cuffs, ankle cuffs and at one point, a collar. Sometimes model Sara helped me out last Saturday night. I'm lucky she is such an arts and crafts person because she dived into the task and made a few more pieces I wouldn't have thought of. She also came up with the idea of the eye patch peep.

The trick to peep art is to cut the peep lengthwise to expose the sticky white insides. You then smash the peep onto the skin where it will bounce back to its original shape after adhering to the body. The wrists and ankles worked great and stayed on for hours. When we placed the peeps on the neck, the constant moving of the neck made it harder for the peeps to stay on. When using Peeps, I highly recommend having a bowl of water handy so you can dip your fingers quickly to remove the sugar.

I took about 277 Peeps pictures but this is the one that really popped out at us during post production. There is something surreal about aggressive passionate feet encased in pink peeps.

Fiction: BDSM Beach Part Ten

The other girls were waiting for Cassie when she walked into the bedroom. She hadn’t heard them whispering when she used the bathroom and she didn’t know the agreement they had come to. Cassie had no idea that her friends were worried about her and had decided to give her their best effort at a substitute for the orgy that should have been hers tonight.

But Cassie knew it when Melinda grabbed her by the face and pulled her in for a kiss. She had a suspicion when Alisha came up behind her and planted kisses on her back. There was no doubt in her mind when Danielle took her hand and started sucking on her fingers. She was standing in the bedroom, wrapped in female bodies and affection. A tear came to her eye as she realized what they were doing for her, and a surge of wetness flowed to her cunt as she realized how badly she wanted this.

“Bring her to the bed,” Danielle said.

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Alisha laughed. “Do they do foreplay at all where you come from?”

“I want her on the bed so I can spank her,” Danielle said.

Cassie moaned in Melinda’s mouth. Melinda broke the kiss. “Cassie seconds that idea. Let’s do it.”

Alisha hesitated. “But none of us has practiced or been trained in it.”

Danielle looked at Alisha. “Do they do anything spontaneous where you come from? I think I can whip Cassie’s butt without reading a book on it.”

Alisha almost said something but stopped. Cassie knew how she felt. Everything Cassie had read had stressed how important it was to prepare and be careful when it came to kinky play. In the fiction she read, doms were always mentored by even wiser paragons or were graduates of exclusive schools. The idea of people just trying it seemed a little amateurish.

“It’s just like working out,” Melinda said. “Cassie, if it hurts too much, you just give us a safe word, and we’ll stop. Right Danielle?”

Danielle nodded. “Sure,” she said with a wicked grin. “What’s your safe word?”

“David Hasselhoff” Alisha said.

“Ewww,” all three girls said.

“Well, wouldn’t it turn you off enough to stop?” Alisha said.

“Where did you get that idea?” Melinda said.

“A blog, of course,” Alisha said.

“I like it,” Cassie said. “Let’s do it.”

“Good, now get your ass on the bed,” Danielle said. She grabbed Cassie roughly by the hair and dragged her to the bed. The other girls giggled at Danielle’s assertiveness, but Cassie felt something inside her melt. Danielle wanted to spank her, and Cassie wanted badly to meet that need.

Danielle pushed Cassie’s face down onto the bed, bending her over so her ass was in the air. Melinda climbed onto the bed and grabbed Cassie’s arms. Cassie almost told her that it wasn’t necessary, but she stopped. Melinda’s firm grip was like steel, as solid as any handcuff. Cassie didn’t know where Alisha was, but she hoped the other girl was watching and maybe masturbating, taking pleasure in Cassie’s plight.

The first slap was hard, far harder than Cassie was expecting. She jumped and cried out. She thought Danielle would pause, but instead Danielle just slapped her ass again. Cassie’s jumping meant nothing as Danielle laid into her ass as cruelly as any paperback dom. This wasn’t the warm inferno that Kevin gave her every morning; this was a full on ass-whipping. Cassie suffered every slap of Danielle’s hand with a cry from her lips and a clench in her cunt.

It hurt. It hurt a lot, but Cassie took it. As she squirmed and struggled, she could hear the laughter in Danielle’s voice. Danielle struck her right buttock too many times, and it hurt like a bruise. Melinda’s fingers were leaving marks in Cassie’s wrists from squeezing so tightly. This wasn’t sexy; it was just suffering. Cassie was OK with that. After the shock of not having been chosen by Kevin tonight, she was more than happy to escape into overwhelming pain.

“Damn, that’s enough,” Alisha said.

“She hasn’t said ‘Hasselhoff,’ ” Danielle said.

Cassie hadn’t. She realized she might never say it, actually. The spanking was brutal, but it took her mind off the fact that she wasn’t upstairs. It occurred to her that she had accepted this spanking as some sort of punishment for not being picked.

“That doesn’t mean you get to beat her all night,” Alisha said.

Danielle pouted. “But this is fun.”

“Share the fun, then,” Alisha said. “It’s my turn.”

“You want to spank her?” Danielle asked. Cassie noticed a trace of jealousy in her voice. Where had that come from?

“Nah,” Alisha said. She grabbed Cassie by the collar. “I just want her to eat my pussy.”

Melinda laughed and let go of Cassie’s hands. “Good idea.”

“Yeah,” Danielle said. “You heard her, Cassie. Start licking!”

“When did you become a dom, Danielle?” Melinda asked.

Cassie didn’t hear Danielle’s answer. Alisha was dragging her by the collar across the bed, and Cassie’s focus was completely on the dark thighs in front of her. Alisha turned Cassie over, making the girl lie on her back. A sharp flash of pain erupted from her ass when the bed came in contact with the results of Danielle’s spanking. Cassie could feel her heart pound faster as Alisha swung her legs over Cassie’s head. Alisha’s pussy hovered above Cassie, giving Cassie one good look at the heaven that was about to drop down on her face.

A mask of thighs and pussy encased her head. She opened her mouth to take Alisha’s pussy and tasted the tangy juices on her tongue. Alisha’s hands settled on Cassie’s breasts, squeezing them and turning them into handles. Cassie looked up at Alisha’s glorious body, a dark feminine silhouette that mirrored her own round body.

Cassie licked. Her ass still hurt, but she kept licking. Once again, she felt that familiar sense of losing herself. Alisha was grinding on her face as though Cassie were nothing more than a dildo. All Cassie had to think about was providing pleasure to Alisha’s cunt. Distantly Cassie felt her breasts being played with, but that was unimportant compared to what was on her tongue right now. Cassie took pride in every clench of Alisha’s cunt and every sudden buck of Alisha’s hips.

Hands gripped Cassie’s ankles, pulling them apart. The girls were talking, but Alisha’s thighs prevented Cassie from hearing what was being said. A mouth kissed Cassie’s cunt, and pleasure splashed through her body. Fingers were added, penetrating her cunt while the mouth sucked on her clit. It was Melinda; it had to be.

Cassie’s body felt divided in three. Her mouth was a toy for Alisha’s cunt, licking and sucking like a machine. Her cunt, however, was a receptacle of affection. She could feel Melinda seducing her with gentle kisses and hard finger thrusts. Unlike Danielle’s savage taking, Melinda slowly build Cassie to an orgasmic bliss. While Alisha was fucking Cassie’s face, Melinda was making deliberate love to her cunt. Throughout it all, her ass burned, still feeling the pain that Danielle had heaped on her. Cassie felt as though she were three different people, and she couldn’t decide which she most enjoyed being.

Alisha climaxed, and her vigorous humping of Cassie’s face was the final trigger for Cassie’s own orgasm. Cassie’s body bucked so hard that Alisha almost fell off her face, and Melinda cried out as Cassie’s hips lifted into her face. The three girls held Cassie down as she shuddered, thrashed and spasmed. Her worries and disappointments were washed away like sandcastles by the powerful wave of her orgasm.

Alisha dismounted, and Cassie could feel how wet her face was. She didn’t wipe it off. She liked the sticky feeling. It made her feel like a sex slave. The girls said something, but Cassie didn’t hear what it was. Her mind and body were overwhelmed and shutting down. She was vaguely aware of being covered with a sheet and being kissed on the head by three different mouths. The room went dark, and seconds later, Cassie drifted to sleep.

Upstairs, it was perfectly quiet.

To be continued.