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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Dom S.O.S.

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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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

Fiction: Haunted House of Bondage: The Dining Room

“It is time,” Eleanor Foxglove announced.

Virginia barely heard her. It felt as though all she could hear was the beating of her heart and the shallowness of her breath. The young woman was in something akin to a trance. She had stopped thinking hours ago, and now she only endured sensations and orgasms. She had never been happier. Her complicated career as a lawyer seemed years away. Now, her only responsibility was to be Eleanor’s toy.

In a daze, she slid off Eleanor’s lap and down to the floor. Virginia got on all fours without being told. It felt like the natural thing to do. Eleanor’s black heel was in front of her face so she leaned down and kissed the shoe. She was dimly aware of Eleanor patting her on the head.

To read the thrilling conclusion, click Whole Post

A tug on the leash prompted Virginia to crawl. She followed Eleanor into the hall and was surprised to see Annette and a man waiting for them. Annette was nude and on all fours just like Virginia. Looking at Annette docile and subservient nagged at Virginia. Deep down, she felt as though something was wrong, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

The man interrupted her train of thought. He knelt beside Virginia and her face in his hand. She looked into the deepest blue eyes she had ever seen. They looked into her eyes, and Virginia suspected that maybe they looked into her soul as well. He smiled. She was embarrassed by how happy his smile made her.

“I see the aura has taken over,” the man said.

“Yes, Jonathan,” Eleanor said. “You were right. Prolonged exposure to the artifact has clouded their minds. She’s a perfect slut right now. I doubt we even have to mask our true intentions.”

“We do from Stewart, though,” Jonathan said. “The artifact is stronger against women than it is against men. Since I cast the spell, it will favor men. Stewart still has free will. He can ruin everything if we are not careful.”

Eleanor laughed. “That wimp? Painslut should have him completely dominated by now.”

“You are likely right, my love,” Jonathan said. “Would you like to examine your new body before we go downstairs?”

Eleanor looked at Annette with a predatory smile. “No, thank you, dear. You know how much I like to unwrap my presents in private. I’ll test my new body’s limits once we are through this morning and can bring back the old slaves. Do you think they will return?”

“They won’t be able to help themselves,” Jonathan said. “After years of pleasuring our old, decrepit bodies, they’ll leap at the chance of being slaves to healthy masters.”

Virginia listened to them without really understanding them. When the Foxgloves tugged on their leashes, Virginia and Annette followed them down the stairs. It wasn’t easy to go downstairs on all fours, but it never occurred to Virginia to do anything different.

On the bottom floor, they went into the dining room. Stewart and another woman were already there. Virginia recognized the woman as Painslut from the painting, but she almost didn’t recognize Stewart. He was standing taller, and despite the fact that he was nude, Stewart looked extremely confident and in control of himself. He leered at Virginia’s nude body; that, at least, was familiar .

“Hello, Stewart,” Jonathan said. “Painslut has told me that you are ready for the ritual. You have decided to become master of your own fate.”

“Yes,” Stewart said. He looked down at Annette, and disbelief crossed his face. “Annette is fine with this, too?”

Jonathan growled. “Listen to yourself. You’re still worrying about Annette’s opinion! Be a man and make your own decision. Was Annette worrying about your opinion when she was sucking my cock? Of course not!”

Stewart frowned. “You’re right. I’ll do better. Painslut was right; you do have a lot to teach me.”

Jonathan relaxed. “Of course, my boy, of course. I realize this is difficult to adjust to, but with my guidance, you’ll make it through. But first, we need to make a few preparations. Painslut, I see that Virginia is wearing your collar, but she needs another item of yours to mark her.”

Painslut knelt down beside Virginia and looked at her. “Her tits are very small,” she said with a sigh. “But she can have one of these.”

Virginia watched as Painslut removed on of her diamond nipple studs. Painslut reached for one of Virginia’s nipples, and Virginia cried out at the horrible piercing pain that stabbed her. When Painslut removed her hand, Virginia felt a weight hanging from her chest. She looked down, and inexplicably, the diamond stud was embedded in her nipple! There was no blood, but after the details of tonight’s events, Virginia really couldn’t say she was surprised. It never crossed her mind to protest or refuse the new gift.

“Excellent,” Jonathan said. “Now, Eleanor, you must bind to your host with a personal item.”

“There’s only one thing that would work,” Eleanor said. She reached down and pulled Annette to her feet by her leash and then reached for her black corset and gave it a simple pull. The laces in the back came magically unwrapped, and it was with visible reluctance that she removed it. She ordered Annette to turn around and then Eleanor slipped the corset onto her new body. Annette moaned as the tight corset cling to her curves, and Virginia winced as she saw how constricted Annette’s massive breasts were by the garment’s restraint. With a wave of Eleanor’s hand, the laces tied themselves on the back of the corset. Annette cried out as the air was squeezed from her body. Virginia marveled at the new hourglass figure Annette sported, and at the same time she was horrified at how tight the corset was. It made her magical piercing seemed minor.

“Now, we just need to mark you, Stewart,” Jonathan said. He held up a black hood, and Stewart took it from him. Stewart put it on, and it covered his face completely except for his blue eyes. Virginia was startled by how similar those blue eyes were to Jonathan’s.

“This hood has been with me for decades,” Jonathan said. “I’ve worn it while fucking slaves, and I’ve worn it when summoning demons. I wore it at my wedding, and I wore it when I cast the spell that bound our souls here. There can be no greater connection between us.”

Stewart took a deep breath. “What do we do now?”

“Quick and to the point — I like that about you Stewart,” Jonathan said. “First, we must prepare your wife. Painslut, do the honors.”

Painslut smiled and grabbed Annette roughly by the hair. Annette didn’t even squeal, and once again, Virginia felt that this was somehow wrong. Painslut dragged Annette towards the huge dining table and pulled her on top of it. Annette crawled over the table with a hint of shame or doubt. Painslut gave Annette a harsh slap on her ass that made Eleanor angry.

“Leave my property alone,” Eleanor commanded.

“Yes, Mistress,” Painslut said without contrition. She commanded Annette to lie down on her back and to spread her arms and legs. Painslut removed some chains and shackles from the china cabinet and brought them to Annette’s body. Virginia couldn’t see everything, but it was clear that Painslut was chaining Annette so that her hands and legs were bound to the edges of the table.

It was Virginia’s turn next. Deep down, she knew she should be fighting, but she couldn’t remember why. As Painslut pulled her leash to make her climb onto the table, Virginia saw the curious statue of Eros again. The sight of it calmed her mind and made her eager to obey the commands Painslut gave her. She was placed facedown on top of Annette’s bound body so that her head was by Annette’s thighs and pussy and her sex was right on top of Annette’s face. Painslut chained her ankles and wrists with cold steel. Through the fog that clouded her mind, Virginia was secretly happy that she was in the dominant position in regards to Annette.

“Now lick each other, ladies, and prepare the way,” Jonathan commanded. “Call forth our souls with the attraction of your desire.”

Virginia jumped as she felt Annette’s tongue. The haughty blonde was licking her sex, eagerly and without hesitation. Deep, strong strokes of the tongue made Virginia grind against Annette’s face.

The brunette was compelled to lick, too. She dipped down to the wet sex before her and licked. Virginia tasted semen and didn’t hesitate to lick it as well. She giggled as she realized how well-fucked the formerly prudish Annette must have been. It made Virginia squirm to think of how soon she would be fucked as well.

“Mouth to sex and sex to mouth, the circle of sex is enclosed,” Jonathan intoned. “In this whirlpool of Lust, we invoke the gods of the Underworld to hear us.”

Virginia felt a surge go through her. Annette felt it, too, squirming beautifully under her. Both women licked quickly, trying to hurry and feed something they didn’t understand. Virginia had an orgasm, and her limbs pulled and twisted the chains that held her.

Eleanor floated through the table, her body insubstantial on a whim. Virginia could feel her mistress’s hand touching her ass, patting her sore cheeks and tracing the welts with her fingernails.

Virginia also felt Painslut’s hands on Annette. They phased through the table from underneath, rubbing Annette’s breasts that spilled over the corset. Virginia felt Painslut’s fingers tweaking and pinching Annette’s breasts.

“We must prepare the Magic Wand,” Jonathan intoned.

In front of Virginia, she saw Jonathan remove a silver cup from a shelf. The cup was filled with a white paste. As Jonathan instructed, Stewart took handfuls of the white paste and covered his erection with it. Virginia moaned. Stewart’s erection looked huge and somehow bigger and more important than anything she had ever seen. It was a phallus worthy of a god.

Stewart turned toward the table and climbed on. Virginia trembled as she saw him approach her face. He climbed between Annette’s legs, and Virginia managed to get a lick of his paste-covered sex. The paste tasted like sugar and sweat. When Stewart ignored her mouth and stuck his cock inside Annette’s sex, Virginia nearly cried from the disappointment.

“It begins,” Jonathan said. His calm reserve was cracked by an exuberant excitement.

Stewart fucked his bound wife as Virginia watched from inches away. His cock filled Annette, and each thrust made the blonde squirm and moan under Virginia. The bound brunette added her mouth to the sex, licking Stewart’s cock when it pulled out and licking Annette’s clitoris when Stewart pushed in. The taste of pussy, cock and paste mixed in Virginia’s mouth like a mouth-watering dessert.

Jonathan commanded Stewart to switch, and Stewart pulled out. Virginia moaned as the man climbed between her legs. His hard cock pushed Annette’s mouth out of the way and slid into Virginia. The immensity of his cock amazed Virginia, and even in her dazed mind, she knew it had to be the magic. She didn’t care. It felt too good inside her to analyze it.

Stewart pumped her wet pussy with even, strong strokes. Annette’s mouth moved to Stewart’s balls, and Virginia could hear her wet licking. Eleanor’s hand moved up to Virginia’s face and slipped a finger into Virginia’s mouth. The bound woman eagerly sucked Eleanor’s finger. Virginia craved human contact and wished there were a dozen more people touching her, fucking every inch of her body.

“I feel it,” Eleanor said. “We’re beginning to bond!”

Virginia felt nothing of the sort. All she cared about was that Stewart had pulled out of her pussy and was now fucking Annette’s mouth. Virginia whimpered. Although they were fucking inches away from her sex, Virginia felt intense denial and unfairness. They had to keep fucking her, they just had to! Virginia began to grind against Annette’s chest, trying to keep herself stimulated.

It was while Annette sucked Stewart that Virginia felt the change. Something crept into her mind, altering the eager complacency she had been experiencing. Virginia still felt the need to climax, and she still had the desire to please her masters, but she also felt a surge of rebellion. She felt that insatiable desire to push her limits, to test the constraints placed on her and to never make it easy for others. Virginia still had all of her submissive urges, but underneath it all was that small piece of defiance that defined Painslut in everything she did.

Stewart moved back towards Virginia’s face, and Virginia could see the change over him. He confidently grabbed her hair and pulled her mouth onto his cock. Virginia swallowed down his erection, tasting both her sex and Annette’s mouth. He pushed deep down her throat, thrusting his hips against her trapped head. Annette resumed licking Virginia’s sex, this time attacking her pussy with a vigor that sent Virginia into raptures. Even with the rebellious spark inside her, Virginia couldn’t deny the bliss she felt at pleasing her masters.

“It is almost complete!” Jonathan cried. Unlike the others, he had remained away from the sex on the table. He just sat by the statue of Eros and watched.

Virginia’s eyes bulged as she realized where the “artifact” was. It had to be the statue! Her earlier haze of sensual compliance was long gone, replaced by the undefeatable mischievousness of Painslut. She was able to recall everything Jonathan and Eleanor had said earlier along with the sinister implications of their discussion.

Stewart had pulled out of Virginia’s mouth and slid back into Annette’s sex. Virginia felt a surge of electricity go through the three of them. She had a climax, and she almost blacked out from the bliss. The steady rhythm of Annette’s body moving beneath her brought back out of her stupor, and she tried to warn Stewart.

“Stewart! Snap out of it!” Virginia cried. She couldn’t tear her eyes off his cock entering Annette’s pussy. “They’ve been lying to us! What they really —”

“Hush, you little slut!” Eleanor said. Her hand clamped over Virginia’s mouth and gagged her. “Ignore her and keep fucking, Stewart! When we are done, you can teach your new slave how to keep her mouth busy.”

Stewart kept pumping. Virginia tried to study his face to see if he’d gotten her message, but the hood made it impossible. All she could see were his deep blues, and they looked more intense than ever. Virginia knew their very souls were in danger, yet she was still too far in their grasp to worry much. As the spirit of Painslut filled her body, she hoped that when Stewart finally ejaculated, it would somehow be in her.

“Now go to the other side, Stewart, and the spell will be complete!” Jonathan cried. He was barely visible. None of the dead were. Virginia couldn’t even see the hand that kept her mouth shut, and she somehow knew that Painslut was just as invisible. The ghosts were losing their forms as they merged with their new bodies.

Virginia felt her memories slipping away and being replaced with new ones. She could no longer remember her old boyfriend, only the memory of Master Jonathan’s ancient body rutting on top of her. She couldn’t recall her sometime-girlfriend in college, only the memory of Mistress Eleanor’s hand on her ass. She couldn’t even remember her office or her home. It felt as though the only true home she ever had was the cage in Painslut’s room.

Stewart slipped out of Annette’s sex and almost casually tapped his wet cock against her cheek. Virginia looked up at him, annoyed, humiliated and aroused at the same time. She never expected to see those blue eyes wink.

The hooded man started to crawl on the table top towards the other side. Annette was humping Virginia’s body in anticipation. Virginia ignored her. She watched as Stewart slowly crawled along the length of the table until he was near the ancient statue of Eros. Stewart lashed out with his leg and kicked the statue off the table. Virginia watched it sail off the table edge and disappear.

The resulting crash of noise echoed through the dining room. Jonathan and Eleanor screamed with anger and rage, while Painslut merely giggled. Stewart whipped off his hood as the ghosts wailed. Jonathan lunged for Stewart’s throat but vanished before he could reach him.

A cold wind blew through the house, bursting windows and sending doors flying.

“Stewart, you useless son of a bitch!” Annette screamed. “Why the hell did you do that?”

“Annette, shut up,” Stewart said wearily. “Ms. Hershey, are you okay?”

“Yes,” Virginia said. “Could you untie me?”

“Fuck her!” Annette said. “Stewart, answer me! Why did you fuck everything up?”

He didn’t answer. He took the hood in his hand and crammed it into Annette’s mouth. Her eyes bulged in disbelief. She tried to push out the hood, but Stewart had learned a thing or two about gags tonight. The hood wasn’t going anywhere.

“Are you OK?” Virginia asked. When he nodded, Stewart remembered her request to be untied.

“Oh, of course,” he said. Some of his former timidity came back. He found some keys in the cabinet and began to unlock Virginia. He didn’t bother with Annette. Surprisingly, the blonde didn’t ask.

“They were trying to take over our bodies,” Virginia said.

“Really?” Stewart said. “Painslut said they just wanted to ride in the back of our minds.”

“They were lying,” Virginia said. She rubbed her wrists and climbed off Annette. The exhausted woman didn’t have the strength to climb off the table just yet. Her sex felt empty, and she was tempted to masturbate. “They wanted to take us over completely. If you didn’t know that, why did you break the statue?”

Stewart sighed. “I’ve put up with Annette’s abuse for years. I do it because I thought it makes her happy. I do what she says, and I obey every whim because I always hoped that one day, she would be satisfied and not be such a bitch.”

Stewart paused and looked at Virginia’s naked body. Virginia found herself looking at his cock. The ghosts were gone, but the sexual energy still lingered in the air. Stewart shook his head and tried to continue.

“What Jonathan offered was to take Annette’s place,” he said. “He wanted me to obey his ‘suggestions.’ I couldn’t imagine having someone in the back of my mind, always telling me what to do. Jesus! At least Annette can’t harass me - 24 hours a day! Why would I submit myself to that?”

Virginia nodded. She wasn’t really paying attention. That need for pleasure still dwelt deep down inside her. Stewart was thinking the same thing. Without any prompting or words, the two of them began to kiss.

Annette squirmed with indignation, but the gag silenced her. Virginia leaned back until she was draped across the bound blonde’s body. Stewart crawled over her. She welcomed him as he slid into her. Both of them whimpered. They were so sensitized from their ordeal that the simple joy of fucking was a powerful release.

The two of them fucked loudly on the table. Virginia was surprised by the passion in her grunts as Stewart filled her. She locked her arms and legs around him, pinning him tightly inside her body. Her newly pierced nipple ached from the pressure of his chest, but there was no way she was going to let him go. He was real, and he was alive. He didn’t want her soul or her eternal submission. He just wanted the same thing she did, to get fucked and feel alive.

Stewart came first, but they kept fucking. Even when Virginia came, they kept fucking. It felt good to merge with something warm and breathing. An hour later, when neither of them could move with much more conviction, they finally pulled apart.

“Its sunrise,” Stewart said. The sun was peeking through the dark drapes of the dining room.

“I officially declare the house yours,” Virginia groaned. “And you can keep the damn thing.”

She fumbled with her collar and managed to unlock the clasp.

“Keep it,” Stewart said. “You’ve certainly earned it.”

That made her smile. “I did. What are you going to do about her?”

Stewart stood up, and Virginia saw that he no longer stooped as he had yesterday. He walked over to his wife and petted her cheek. Beneath her gag, Annette growled.

“Annette and I are going to have a long talk today,” he said. “She hasn’t been happy, and neither have I. I have a few ideas on how we can improve. The elder Foxgloves may have been assholes, but they apparently got through to my wife. I’m not too proud to admit that I would like to try some of their methods. Annette will hear me out and then I’ll release her and get her answer.”

“Good luck,” Virginia said. She meant it.

“Come by some time, and I’ll tell you how it went,” Stewart said.

Virginia thought about it.

“I might,” she said.

It wasn’t long before she returned to the haunted house of bondage.

The end.

An October Wish

She belongs on her knees.

She opens her legs at a word.

Her face leans into the slap.

Her nipples ache for the pinch.

She takes a cock with a moan.

She gets her glory in a shower of cum.

Suicide Girls Burlesque Show

So Saturday night I went to see the Suicide Girls Burlesque show in Atlanta. It was roller coaster of experiences so let me try to catalog them for you.

It's a long recount, so click Whole Post to read it all

The ticket said the show started at 9. At 9 there was the opening act of three adorable Japanese girls who knew very little English but damn could they rock. They rocked, and they rocked and I never knew what the fuck they were singing, but the music just drew you in. Music is the international language. Or was that love?

Around 10 o’clock, the Japanese girls left and this very Goth girl came out in the black and white version of Alice in Wonderland’s costume. All right! These must be a Suicide Girl! I actually got excited that she would be naked soon.

Alas she did not. She was the lead singer of a band called Lennon. They were like Evanescence except . . . umm… they were nowhere as good. And they played for an hour. In fact, I tuned them out so much that I conceived my next story from start to finish.

I will say this though about Lennon. There was a guitar player wearing Fairy wings who just stood there and played his guitar and blended into the band. But when lead singer girl came by he would do this lean into her touch. It caught my eye the first time it happened and it got my wife all excited.

She whispered to me, “That’s her sub.”

It was pretty hard to deny. He would rock out in his own little world but when she got near; his head would dip down towards. I’m a heterosexual male and I thought his submission to her was the hottest damn thing I’ve seen in awhile. It’s very hard to explain, and I suspect it would take me an entire story to do it justice, but it felt like he existed for her.

I will say something else about Lennon. The crowd was unhappy. The crowd wanted to see naked Goth girls and they were quite vocal about how Lennon was killing their buzz. I’ve never seen a band get heckled before and Lennon took it in stride. They got steel ovaries, I’ll give them that.

So the Suicide Girls are next right? Nope. We then had to sit through a Halloween costume contest. At this point I think the Suicide Girls are a myth, something only seen by people drinking too much beer and staggering while sitting. Yes, those were the guys in front of me.

To my surprise the Suicide Girls do come out. A group of eight girls come out in scanty clothes and dance. My second surprise was that they could dance. It looked like it was well worth the wait.

Well the opening dance routine comes to a screeching stop as one cute blonde laid down the RULES! No cameras, no camera phones, no crossing the stage barrier, and absolutely no freaking touching of a Suicide Girl. It was a cold shower that made me feel every one of my thirty-three years of age. These were common sense rules anyone could figure out but it had to be spelled out for the crowd. I understand these rules were important but it was so jarring that it took me out of all my excitement. I felt like I had just sat through a legal disclaimer.

The fact finally started up in full force and two and a half hours of waiting finally bore some fruit. I have to say, I was really impressed. Stripping is one of those things that fascinated me when I was young but lost its impact on me as I got older. It’s an inevitable removing of clothes. Women get naked. The point is not the nudity, it’s how you get there. The Suicide Girls understand this and did quite a few tricks that made me realize how much art was involved.

One trick I noticed was characters. Women came out dressed as someone or something. One of my favorites was when four flight attendants came out and used every attendant prop you can imagine. It was a grungy stage filled girls I saw naked three minutes ago, but the use of costumes and characters made me think what an awesome airline this would be to fly. Just like in short stories, clichés became shorthand that puts the reader/audience in a familiar situation and then they work from there.

Related to that was parody. In erotica, I see a lot of parody of established movies and television. I was just surprised to see it in stripping. They did an erotic version of torture scene in Reservoir Dogs as well as a sexy version of Napoleon Dynamite’s dance. In Internet porn, such parody is often considered the gutter of erotic writing so it really jolted me to see it on stage. And well done parody at that.

Another trick I noticed was misdirection which is something I never thought of in stripping. My favorite moments were when a dancer distracted the audience with a hula hoop, a beer bottle or a kicking leg and BLAM, off went a shirt when you weren’t paying attention. I lived for those moments. It was far more exciting to me than when a dancer would tease an article of clothing off. Teasing has it’s place, but misdirection followed by stripping kept the entire act very kinetic. You felt like anything could happen.

One thing that fascinated me was the crowd. The crowd screamed for joy every single time a Suicide Girl lost her bra. All nipples were covered with tape, and to me only two of the girls had natural breasts, but the crowd lost their damn mind every time they saw breasts. I just didn’t get it. They cycled through the same girls over and over, so it wasn’t like these were brand new tits they were seeing. To me the tits were the least of the show but to the crowd, it’s like it was all they lived for.

I have to take a moment to talk about my favorite girl whose name I never caught. She could fucking dance. While most of the girls were too uncomfortably thin, this gal had muscles rippling on her body. She could contort, which was always a crowd favorite, and her ankles just belonged next to her ear, but what really made me lust for her was her speed. She could shake her hips so fast they became a blur. She could kick her leg out like a damn switchblade. Later she performed with a hula hoop and made that fucking hoop spin. She was sexy not because of what she revealed, but because she was showing us what her body could do. It was a celebration of movement.

So all in all I am very glad I went. It was inspiring. It was a bit frustrating to sit through so multiple opening acts but it was worth it to watch a leg move faster than my eye could follow.

Fiction: My Happiest Halloween

I don’t have any happy Halloween memories from childhood. My stepfather was something of a control freak, and he liked to keep the family terrified with stories of kidnappers, molesters and other monsters. After listening to these stories all year round, the idea of going outside and actually knocking on strangers’ doors seemed like suicide. I walked around the block with my mother and braved a dozen houses before asking to go back home. My mother, who saw Halloween as yet another chore, was happy to have it over with so soon. My half-brother liked Halloween more because it was an excuse to dress up like the monster he was.

For me, Halloween didn’t become special until Liz and Rob moved in next door. Rob was a Marine, and Liz was his hot stay-at-home wife. My stepfather instantly hated Rob, whom he called “a dumb-ass jarhead” while my mom took up hating Liz because the 20-something woman was “trailer-park trash.” Have I mentioned that my parents were assholes?

I was 15 when they moved in, and that first Halloween, Liz dressed up as a genie to hand out candy. I was too old to go trick-or-treating, but my half-brother visited her house on his trip. My mom ranted for an hour about Liz’s exposed belly button and how she was corrupting the minds of the young. I liked that idea. Anything my mom hated so much must have been naughty and fun.

To read more, click Whole Post



The next Halloween was much better. It had been a year of mixed blessings. My stepfather was rarely home because of his job — although we would find out later it was really because of a waitress at Applebee’s. My mother’s sister had moved back into town, and to compete with her, my mom spent more time out of the house trying to play in my aunt’s social circles. Yes, my happiest year was when my parents were too busy to be with me.

Best of all, Liz’s husband was away in Saudi Arabia for six months, and Liz always needed something done at her house. My mom wouldn’t let my stepfather go over there, so it was always I who went over and moved a table or mowed her lawn. I was a socially inept teenager, so mowing a woman’s lawn was the closest I got to dating. Liz wore this white bikini in the summertime that contrasted with her kinky black hair and fueled my masturbation fantasies for months. We never really talked much. I think she knew that I was always on the clock and that my mom was just waiting for a reason to ban my coming over as well.

That Halloween, my mother took my brother to my aunt’s house. My aunt was having a huge party, and my mom wanted to make sure she helped out so she could hold it against my aunt. I wanted to go, but since Liz was handing out treats that year, my mom wanted to make sure our house did, too. My mom had a lot of grudges then. I can’t remember what my stepfather’s excuse was for not being there that night, but it didn’t really matter. He was gone so often at that point that I was forgetting to be afraid of the world.

The first time kids came to the door, I lingered on the steps to see what Liz had dressed as. She came to greet the kids and I couldn’t help staring. She was wearing a wispy long black dress and a witch’s pointed hat. Even from across the yard, I could see that her cleavage was threatening to spill out of the dress. When she bent over to drop candy in a bag, the dress seemed to shrink around her round ass. Damn, I wished I were a kid again.

Liz caught me staring and waved at me. After waving back, I ran back inside. I was 16 and under the impression that women could read the dirty thoughts in my head. My pants were uncomfortably tight, and I debated masturbating right then. In the end, I decided to wait. I wanted to see more of Liz and get a better mental picture. I had my sex life all thought out back then.

A few minutes later, the phone rang.

“Hey, you,” Liz said. “You didn’t dress up for Halloween.”

I didn’t have a witty response. I think I might have said something about forgetting to get one. Funny how I can think of a million flirty remarks to answer that question now.

“I was wondering if you could come over and help me out for a few minutes,” she said. “I promise it won’t take ten minutes.”

“Sure,” I said. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God. This was a wish come true. Now I could see her sexy costume close up and masturbate about it later with better details! When I was a teen, I tended to aim low with my wildest fantasies.

I was over at Liz’s in less than a minute. My mom would have been pissed to know I was deserting my post, but that just added to the excitement. Liz greeted me at the door, and she was more stunning up close. She had silver spider barrettes in her long black hair and a temporary spider tattoo over the top of one breast. Fake fingernails stretched from her fingertips like knives. Her dress was so tight that I could see the outline of her nipples, and at that age, I thought of nipples as the most secret, intimate part of a woman. She wore black lipstick that made her look sinister and so damn sexy at the same time. Liz was evil and forbidden. I felt corrupted already.

I was actually smart enough to say “trick or treat.” She laughed and gave me a Hershey’s kiss before letting me in. As soon as I stepped in, I saw something that chilled my heart. Her house was filled with cardboard boxes, and almost everything was packed away.

“Are you moving?” I asked. There was a lump in my throat, and I realized then that it wasn’t just an expression.

“November 2,” Liz said. “Rob is being transferred to Washington. It’s where he grew up, so we’re pretty happy about it.”

“That’s nice,” I said. That was all I could manage to say.

“It will be for you,” Liz said. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

I felt my face heat up as I blushed. “No,” I said. There was a bitterness in my voice that surprised me. It was a cruel question. I was the tallest, thinnest kid in school with the glasses to match. Making friends of my own gender was hard enough much less a girlfriend.

“Good,” she said. She took me by the shoulders and pushed me down into the recliner. “I would feel really guilty if you did.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

That was when she knelt between my legs.

“Oh, my God,” I said. Yeah, I was real smooth back then.

She laughed, but it was a nice laugh. She unzipped my pants, and I was quick to help her pull off my jeans. The sexy witch rubbed my erection through my underwear, looking at me all the while. Despite the way she was touching me, what really fascinated me was that only her dress was separating her breasts from my thighs.

“Don’t say anything, OK?” Liz said. She took off her hat and set it on the floor.

I nodded. Sure. Anything she wanted.

Liz unrolled my underwear and unveiled my erection. She lifted my cock and slowly stroked it. With her other hand, she gently scratched my balls with her fake nails. My cock had never felt so large and hot before. I leaned forward and watched her, fascinated and bewitched.

She dipped her head and I moaned before her tongue touched me. One long, wonderful swipe of her tongue licked me from base to tip. Another swipe of her tongue went across my girth. Liz’s black lips then puckered and kissed my cock before opening to swallow it down. My hands gripped the arms of the chair as her mouth engulfed my entire cock.

I had no idea that a blowjob was so wet, hot, slippery and fantastic. Her long black hair was on my thighs, and I loved the way it would pull against my skin as her head moved. Her eyes looked up at me, and I basked in the attention they gave me. Her black lipstick was coloring my cock, leaving the mark of her lips as she bobbed up and down.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, she pried my hand from the death grip I had on the arm of the chair. Still sucking me, she reached into her dress and pulled out a single breast . I trembled as she guided my hand to her breast and I sighed when she pressed my fingers into it.

She didn’t need to guide my hand after that. I fondled her. The softness of her breast amazed me, as did how hard the nipple became. I had just enough knowledge of women to know that a hard nipple was a sign of arousal, and I clung to that hard nipple as proof of what was happening. My fingers squeezed and massaged her breast with a sort of reverence. I couldn’t believe I was actually touching a woman’s breast. My fingers wanted to touch every part of her so that I would never forget what it felt like.

I felt my orgasm approaching, and I kept very quiet. Deep down, I still didn’t believe this was happening, and I kept waiting for Liz to stop. My climax was like being hit by lightning, but I didn’t make a single sound. Her eyes flickered up at me, and I could see her smiling as I emptied myself into her. It felt like I was ejaculating an ocean into her mouth, but she swallowed it all without a single hesitation. In fact, her fingers gently squeezed my cock until every ounce of cum was gone.

When I was done, she gently pulled my hand off her breast. There were red marks on her white skin, and I felt embarrassed. Liz didn’t mind. She pushed her breast back into her dress without comment. I pulled my jeans back on and handed her back her hat.

“Why?” I said. My voice was little more than a whisper at that point.

“Why not?” Liz said. The bewilderment on my face made her smile.

“Look, you have a fucked-up family. Your dad is a gigolo, your mom doesn’t even have her own personality and your brother is a brat. You’re the only one of that family worth knowing. If you have to have a reason, just remember that you got a blowjob from your neighbor because she thought you were a nice guy. Deal?”

I nodded. There was that damned lump again.

“Good, now get home before your mom accuses me of cradle-robbing.”

Liz moved out two days later. My cock had traces of black lipstick for days, and I was sad when they were all gone. I wrote a lot of bad poetry all about the virtues of older woman and blowjobs. It was a week of heavenly optimism until Susan Vickers in English class made a joke about a pimple I was suffering. I had to admit that her insults didn’t hurt as much as they used to.

My parents got divorced a year later but only after dragging us through hell first. My stepfather moved in with his waitress, and I never saw him again. My mother married someone who was an exact copy of her last husband. As for my brother, he was still a brat.

I married a girl who looked a lot like Susan Vickers but with a better sense of humor. My wife was an outcast from her family like me, and it was something we bonded over. I turned Halloween into the biggest holiday of the year. We dressed up in all types of costumes from sexy to just plain weird. It was the one time of the year we celebrated how diverse my wife and I were from other people.

Late one sweaty Halloween, when her mermaid outfit was in shreds, my wife looked in my eyes and asked the big question.

“With your lousy parents, where did you learn how to make Halloween so much fun?”

“One spooky Halloween, I got corrupted by this witch …”