Masturbation Monday: Denna and her convenient pervert

Denna made an interrogative noise, but let me lead her to the mat and pillow. I took her shoulders, and pressed downwards, very lightly. She glanced down, then looked back at me. “You really need me to suck your cock, don’t you?”

I whispered, “Well, that’ll be hot, of course. But I really need you to experience doing as you’re told.” She frowned and made the interrogative noise again. I put my mouth close to her ear. “You’ve got a pervert handy. You may as well make use of him. Remember?”

“Well, maybe.” She said that into my ear, then bit it. Hard. “But you can’t spank me if I don’t, can you?”

I managed not to rub my ear, though it hurt. And she was right: a spanking for Denna would bring the whole household running. Quite apart from the bratty fuss she’d make, spanking is loud

“Getting your ass spanked is hot, for lots of people. And in your case it’s incredibly, absolutely fucking deserved. You’d probably like it. And I’d love it.” She put her tongue out and made a disrespectful noise, very quietly.

I held her ear, pinching her very lightly, a warning only, and whispered into it. “But that’s not the reason why people sometimes do as they’re told. In sex, I mean. It’s that doing as you’re told can be hot. It’s a mind thing. Try it.”

“How?”

I put my hands on her shoulders again, and pushed down more firmly. “By doing as you’re told. Because I said so. Now get down on your knees and suck my cock. That’s not a request, Denna.”

“That’s the silliest…” And then she dropped to her knees. She kissed the end of my cock, letting it jolt upwards each time her lips touched the head. Then she licked the underside, and was rewarded by the sight of my fingers, toes and buttocks, all clenching. I gulped in air. She licked the underside some more, while I fought to keep still. At last she opened her mouth and took me in.

I stood silent and still while Denna moved forward on her knees, then leaned forward a little to take my cock deeper into her mouth. At last she began to suck me hard, cheeks concave, lips moving firmly back and forth on the shaft. She raised her right hand to hold the base of my cock.

“No,” I said. “No hands.” I have a command voice, that I use when I’m domming someone. It’s supposed to be warm, and communicate certainty that the person addressed will want to do what the voice says. It doesn’t work so well when you have to whisper because her parents weren’t far away, but I did my best.

Anyway Denna took her hand away immediately. She’d entered into the spirit of the thing enough to want to keep me pleased with her. But a second later she realized that she always used her hands when sucking cock. Now they hung vaguely by her thighs. She didn’t know what else to do with them.

I touched the top of her head. “Put your hands on my feet.”

I hadn’t thought about it in advance, but on that cold floor having the warmth of her hands on top of my feet was very welcome. I let her work, head rising and falling on my cock. I stroked her head, and sometimes took handfuls of her hair, so she had to pull to keep her head properly on me. I made occasional quiet pleasure noises, partly because I couldn’t have stopped myself for all the world and partly because I wanted her to feel she was doing well.

She sucked harder, speeding up, her hands rising to my ankles as she became more focused. I started to move in response, trying to avoid giving her the idea that I was fucking her mouth. She could feel that she was doing as she was told, but she should also feel that she was leading.

It was only when my whole body was shaking and I could barely stand that I head the back of her head firmly and pushed her forward.

And about a minute later I felt that a gentleman should give fair warning. “Uh, Denna. I’m, ah – ”

But that was as far as I got. I froze for a second, as if my body had locked, and spurted into her.

And with that release I could move again and I thrust into her, while Daphne licked and swallowed. It took incredible effort for me to stay silent. It was almost painful.

At last, when I was spent and she still sucked me, cleaning my cock, I could whisper, “good. So good. You are so good.” She seemed happy, so I risked saying something that can be dangerous, said to a woman who isn’t in exactly the right mood.

“Good girl. You are such a good, wonderful girl.”

 

Sinful Sunday: Tip toes

There are lots of things a submissive woman can do, when her Sir is in that most imperious, imperative mood. 

Obviously, doing as she’s told is paramount. But, as is so often the case in interaction between Sir and girl, it’s the details that carry so much erotic heft. 

He watches his girl. But though he loves her, and her body, and her desire to obey and please him, it’s the details he’s learned to notice. She holds herself on tip-toes. 

He wonders why that detail is so significant. It’s partly that she wants to place her body to advantage visually, since she knows he will be watching her closely while he punishes her.

She gives up control once she’s on tip toes for him. She doesn’t have her feet on the ground. And so she’s on his ground.

Sexy Words Con: First Con for Sex Writers (and their fans) in Australia and New Zealand!

Sexy Words Con

This is the first of what will be an annual event for sex bloggers, print and e-book writers, sex toy reviewers and their fans in Australia, New Zealand and beyond.

The purpose is to allow people to pick up new knowledge and skills, to put meet favourite writers and also meet your own fans, and to build the links and contracts we need for a supportive community.

Basic program

The Con opens with registration and socialisation on Friday 13 September 2019.

The formal program of the Con is largely taken up with presentations from talented and experienced people on different aspects of the erotic writing trade, or mission, in this part of the world.

There are also general plenary sessions for special presentations, and the occasional piece of fun and silliness.

Other activities

One option for the Con venue is the beautiful Blue Mountains, on the outskirts of Sydney, NSW. If that’s chosen there’ll be evening tours to gaze at some genuinely awe-inspiring landscape and other sites.

There’s a Con dinner on Saturday night, which will feature burlesque and a comedian.

And farewell drinks on the Sunday night.

An educational, inspirational and social time is guaranteed for all! We hope to see you there!

Questionnaire

We’d like to know what you’d like to come from this conference! I’d encourage as many people as possible to fill in our questionnaire. It’s here!

Wicked Wednesday: The Long Wait 5

In her bed, when she’d lost count of her orgasms and her body burned, she found herself sitting up, her back to him, his cock pressed against her ass.

He spread her legs, and put his right hand on her cunt. He patted, and the pats became blows. She knew, in her conscious mind, that he was spanking her cunt quite hard.

But it didn’t hurt at all.

His voice sounded strained, urgent: “Say, thank you, sir!”

And, lost, when his hand next landed, fingers spread on her soft, wet self, Ellie wailed, “Thank you, Master!”

She felt him hardening. “I think you’re right.” He sounded surprised.

Later, her face in a pillow, her ass up, being ridden, she howled again, a ululation of pleasure and of something wrenching, shifting inside her.

When she was finished he rode her hard, seeking only his own pleasure. She felt his whole body spasm when he came in her. She’d pleased him. That mattered.

When his body had relaxed he kissed her ear and rolled to lie beside her, his arm over her body.

“You called me Master.” 

She felt a chill. He was going to be sensible now. Restore sense. “I did. I’m sorry, I know you didn’t ask me to. It just felt right.”

“We’ll talk about it in the morning.” Her heart sank. “But if you meant it, then I’m happy to be –”

Ellie wriggled back towards him, her skin against his. She thought about sucking him hard again, but he’d fallen asleep.

In the morning they’d talk. But he’d taken her, and when she’d given him more he’d taken that too. Maybe she had a Master, and… He’d made her wait half an hour. Half an hour and thirty-four years. She followed him into sleep.

[The end]

Masturbation Monday: Emilia’s Tale 5

Towards morning, the hash sweated out of me and my mind and tongue working again, I hoisted Emilia on top of me and, when I judged she was concentrating fiercely, riding me to her orgasm, I gave her bottom a series of encouraging slaps.

She made a lust sound, an animal sound from somewhere deep in her throat, and held my shoulders tight, so that was clearly right. As she got closer to coming I slapped her shuttling arse and thighs hard, then very hard, and that was right too.

She shouted the only command I’d ever let her get away with – “Harder!” – and I smacked her till her ass and, it seemed, her mind were burning hot. She fell forward onto me, screaming into my ear as she came. 

Emilia had dodged the talk I thought we should have, so that served as our discussion. She didn’t need words quite as much as I did.

So we were lovers, then, who knew about each other from the first night. Carefully, we expanded our range.

So we were together the next night as well, and I held her down and wrapped rope around her wrists to see what would happen, and what happened is that Emilia sighed and wriggled, content to be bound. So I took the poor helpless girl over my knee and spanked her long and hard, and that brought forth stronger pleasured sounds.

And then she roilled onto her back, still tied, and pointed her toes at the ceiling. Different corners of the ceiling. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse. We fucked: strong, committed fucking.

So it went by increments until we’d established that, for example, if I tied her ankles and wrists to the bed-ends and strapped her bottom and thighs with my belt till they were deeply, hotly red, she’d respond with even noisier lust.

Emilia could not only tolerate pain that would have me screaming and whimpering, she could ride that pain and turn it to sex. 

Two months later I broke my rules about emotional safety and declared wonderstruck love for Emilia under another starry sky. Because her mother had advised her never to believe anything a man said outside the legal hours of daylight, I repeated the declaration in the morning, sober, straight and still wonderstruck.

Sinful Sunday: Soulful stripes

There comes a time when punishment is over. Time moves fast during a caning, and then, when the last stroke is delivered, it slows down. Nearly to a stop. There is pain, and there is peace.

She’d been warned about consequences of not doing university work before, and she knows that the punishment was an act of love, and she deserved it. No matter how much it hurt. 

But she knows, too, that he still has the cane in his hand, as a badge of office, almost. Justice is one of the strongest ties between master and willing slave. And, justice or not, she knows he’s hard for her. 

In a moment he’s going to hold her. And kiss her, and tell her she’s good, and he’ll help her get the overdue assignment finished. But for now, the assignment isn’t what matters. His need for her, and hers for him; that matters. In a few seconds, no more, they’ll be fucking. 

Plans

I’m going to get back to my schoolgirl spanking story, the Jennifer and Maddie saga, soon. 

This is a plan, or map, of the island to the south of the Australian mainland. For some reason you only have to say  “map of Tasmania” to make Australians laugh.

I also intend to publish it in a series of e-books. Probably in slices of about 40 pages at a time, since that seems to be around standard for erotic e-books. 

Which means I have to find a couple of women ready to be cover models. Pleated skirts and side-boob. No twats. Will be paid. Interested? Contact me!

I have to finish my non-bdsm novel, which I’d hoped to have done by the end of August, but I got held up by paid work coming in. That takes precedence. 

I have to tidy up a novel I’ve had provisionally accepted by a publisher. Because of fuck-ups in version control it needs one last go-through to lose the typos, repetition and inconsistencies. I want to save their copy-editor some work.

This is the legendary Louise Brooks, who will never get lost in Tasmania.

I’ve also got to tidy up another non-erotic novel, which has a few problems that can be fairly easily repaired.

It really should be on the market, so I’ll take the time to make it at its best and most saleable self. That should take about five day’s work. 

Then I get back to the novel I was supposed to have finished by the end of August.

And I need to do some paid work soon. The bank account is starting to look a little sad. 

And that will keep me busy enough for a while.

Wicked Wednesday: The long wait 4

“Not for trusting me. For disobeying me, and for being silly about safety calls. This is the last time I’ll repeat this order: come here.”

Come here, Ellie thought. Here. I’m going to come, with you, here on my couch, for the first time. She felt light-headed. “This is when you tell me to bend over?”

“Just lower yourself over my thighs. Use your fingers and toes to keep yourself steady. Make sure you’re comfortable. I’m going to spank you. But you’ll be ok. I’ll look after you.”

That made no sense. But Ellie put her hand on his shoulder and leaned forward. He helped her down. She wriggled, exploring her new position, amazed that she might become used to it. He pushed the robe to her shoulders. She felt the air on her body. “One more thing. When I give you an order, I want you to say, Yes, sir. Just before you obey me. Can you do that?”

“Uh.” Ellie felt his hand, stroking her bottom. Then the lightest warning pat. “Yes, sir,” she said quickly. 

“Feet apart.”

“Yes, sir.” Ellie shuffled, opening for him. His cock was hard, under her belly. He wanted her. Well, that made them even.

His hand landed. The impacts moved from left to right, lower and higher, in a steady, unchanging rhythm. Slowly the smacks got harder, and Ellie could feel the heat. She must be red by now. There was pain, then more. Why was this heaven? She began to rock herself on his lap, pressing against his cock.

He spanked her hard now, so that it hurt, really hurt. It was still heaven. She made a throaty noise. At last he stopped. She felt his fingers trailing down into the cooler skin between her buttocks, and slid her feet a little further apart. He said, “Beautiful girl. Good girl.”

His fingers entered her, reaching deep, then pressing downwards. Oh god. He stroked her, pressing his thumb against her cunt, his fingers fucking her. Reaching deep inside her.

“Oh,” Ellie said, then, much later, “Ohf!” The sweetness surged and took her. Her orgasm cry reminded her of a wolf under the moon.

She gasped, head up, savage, then let her head fall forward and down, while he stroked her. Ge was pleased with her, she knew.

He kept her on his lap, praising her, stroking her. Finally he let her go, and she sank onto her knees before him, looking up at his eyes.

He smiled down at her. 

“I seem to remember, when we were talking. On the phone. You mentioned amazing fellatio skills.”

 

Masturbation Monday: Emilia’s Tale 4

Emilia lived at the end of a long climb up narrow streets to a row of old wooden houses. I stopped at her door, far above the city, taking in the view while I got my breath back. I’d decided to make at least some of my intentions obvious, so I’d brought wine and chocolate and flowers. I knocked at the door.

But it was a man who opened the door, who enjoyed my disappointment before introducing himself. Vijay was another doctor, with long glossy black hair, a chiselled face and startlingly white teeth. He was alarmingly handsome and charming. Fortunately, it was soon clear that Vijay preferred his lovers paler and maler than Emilia. Emilia let herself be found in the kitchen. I appreciated the effort, and also her dress, which was simple and satin, black with large red flowers, and low-cut. 

I put my arms around her, holding her ass to keep us… steady. She kissed me. Once again she had my cock hard, seeking her, this time through cotton, denim, satin and silk.

Dinner was enjoyable enough, but the conversation seemed mainly to be between Vijay and me. I’d hoped to talk with Emilia, but there was no opportunity. Still, soon after dinner Vijay left us, heading for the clubs. But at the door he directed a broad wink at me. So I’d been vetted and approved, which was something.

I started my planned conversation with Emilia, but before I’d said much she led me out to the balcony. She excused herself while I gazed down at the night-lit city, and returned with what she said was Vijay’s hash pipe. She filled, lit and inhaled, and passed the pipe to me. For years I’d seldom bothered with marijuana. I especially avoided it around women, because a man who isn’t handsome or physically impressive has to keep his wits.

My best feature is conversation, and drugs reduce me to tongue-tied idiocy. What I wanted to say to Emilia would be complicated even if my mind were clear. But the pipe was lit and a woman I wanted to please was offering it to me. I took it and inhaled as little as I felt I could get away with.

But even a tiny amount of marijuana is enough to send me spinning. In no time the city was a great velvet shawl studded with multi-coloured lights, cellos played at random, heaven’s ebon vault was unutterably bright, and Emilia’s face, near mine, was enormous, and glowing with some joke that I didn’t know, a joke that might worry me if I did know it.

But when she smiled there were dimples, and it was the most beautiful face that could possibly be. Still marijuana-spun, I tried to think of something to say.

After some time I thought of a conversation-starter. “The city”, I could say to her, indicating which city I meant with a casual wave over the balcony, “it’s nice, isn’t it?” I did not say this, but nothing better came to mind. Panicked, I finally said, “you”, and kissed her face.

Later Emilia’s hands were under my shirt, and I’d pulled down her dress to kiss her breasts, warm and round and, from her time in the kitchen, smelling of flour and chilli. I had my mouth and my mind full of her hard, soft and slippery flesh, until Emilia pinched my nose so I had to lift my mouth and stare up at stars and her eyes.

She touched her forehead to mine and said I’d have to go home now, or take her to bed. That seemed an odd way to put it. I said, “bed better”, the first words I’d managed in some time. I thought they were rather good.