Author Archives: jaime

Vampire girl #17

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The previous episode is here.

 

“So you’d like me to say, ‘I’ve been a bad girl. Please punish me, master.’ Would that turn you on?” 

Actually, it jolted my cock just hearing her quote that, even though she wasn’t exactly saying it. Not saying it on her own behalf. But I wasn’t going to admit that she had any sort of power.

“No, Diane, we’re past that. You don’t have to say anything. Not that anything you say would make any difference. I’m about to hurt you. Because you disobeyed me so you deserve it. Um, have you ever had any sort of punishment before? I mean, from a lover?”

“God no. I’ve never let – Well, never mind. No.” 

“Then you’re about to lose a virginity, of sorts. It’s an honour.” She laughed. “No, seriously, Diane. It really is an honour. For me.. And I’ll kiss it good bye. That virginity, I mean. And kiss you better. But turn around now.”

“Turn? My back? To you?” Each element, she managed to convey, was questionable, and unwise. 

I picked up one of the switches at my feet. It looked thin, leafy, but capable of delivering real pain. “Now.”

Diane turned her back, then took a step backwards, so her ass was just a few centimetres from my crotch.

I put put my hands on her hips and drew her back, making that contact. My cock pushed against her bottom, and I couldn’t help making a slight pumping, pleasuring motion. She was firmly, lusciously curved. I wanted her. She made a sound that I took as meaning she’d felt my cock and she approved. I sighed. 

 

The next episode is here.

Vampire girl #16

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The previous episode is here.

 

Diane had set me a challenge. But there’s a limit to how alarming a naked girl can look in a park, even with blood-red lippy and lots of mascara. So I smiled. “So, is there a bad girl in this park?” 

“What would you do about it, if there was?” 

“You’ll have to come here to find out.”

So this was ritual. Even she knew this game. “Um … I’m not sure I should.” 

“Diane.” Now I used the command voice. “Come here. Now.” 

And she took two steps forward before she thought and stopped. She frowned, hesitated. 

“Come here. Girl. Now.” And then she was in front of me, hands at her sides, waiting. I put my hand on her cheek, and pushed my thumb into her mouth. She sucked, warmly. She was breathing hard. And holding her tummy in. She hoped she looked sexy. Of course she did. 

“Little vampire girl, you like doing as you’re told. So you should do as you’re told. Shouldn’t you?”

Diane was still sucking, licking up and down the soft skin between my thumb and the palm of my hand. “Mmmm?” 

“So you have to learn not to disobey me. It wastes my time. And yours.”

Diane bit very gently on my thumb, and then licked it better. “Mmmmm.”

“That’s why I’m going to punish you.”

 

The next episode is here.

Vampire girl #15

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The previous episode is here.

 

I wrote the last episode of this story (Vampire girl #14, obviously) so long ago that it’s on the previous page.

I took a break mainly because I’ve been working hard on other projects and this story is hard to write. The reason it’s hard to write is mainly that its essentially a true story. So that means admitting that I was irresponsible enough to take  a woman to a park wearing just a shirt, and then get her to take the shirt off. Spoilers: I’m about to do worse.

But there’s also Diane, she whose name is not really Diane. I haven’t seen her in ages, and I don’t know where she is in the world, but she might one day read this blog. If she does, I hope she’ll feel that I’ve done her some kind of justice, that I haven’t just turned her into a bdsm wank figure, or made her seem silly. She’d read other things I’ve written, and she complained that I never wrote about her. I said I probably would, but only years later. Anyway, here it is, with respectful lust, plenty of misdirection to protect her identity, and I hope some truth where it counts.

So we were in a little clump of trees, the dark part of a park. Diane had taken her shirt off, which was all she was wearing apart from her Cons All-Stars. When I told her to bring her shirt to me she’d balled it up and threw it behind her. So she was a naked girl in a park, discovering that doing as she was told was sexy, and testing to see what I’d do about disobedience. 

 

The next episode is here.

Reasons not to have sex, Part 4

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I once fell into bed with my sister’s husband’s sister after a family wedding. We weren’t related at all, in the consanguinity (blood) sense. But we thought it was amusing that we might be brother-in-law and sister-in-law, and committing some sort of sex crime.

We looked it up later and discovered that we weren’t. We were mildly disappointed about that.

But real incest strikes me as worth avoiding. I fancied my aunt, my mother’s youngest sister, for a while when I was about nine or so, and she must have been in her mid-twenties. I remember I planted a more than family kiss on her that Christmas. She pretended to be impressed, which was nice of her. 

But though there’s an huge literature involving erotic scenarios between naughty nieces and their devilishly handsome, though wicked, uncles, the scenario seems likely to be disastrous in practice. And I’ve never fancied my sisters. No offence, if they ever find this blog; they just aren’t my type. 

Anyway, incest is the last of the reasons I can think of for not having sex. 

Reasons not to have sex, Part 3

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She was deeply cute, blonde, petite, and dressed too neatly for the bar she was in. She’d been dumped by her boyfriend a week ago. She’d spent a lot of time that night attaching herself to a guy who’d come to the bar with his own group of workmates.

At one in the morning, he’d lost his courage and gone back to his friends. He left with them. He was an idiot and a coward, and I saw that his running away had hurt her. So I told her, with some sincerity, that he was the stupidest man I’d ever seen, and she’d suddenly become my armful, with one hand on my arse.

But I used my magic dom voice to order her to go home, and I packed her into a taxi. That was weird behaviour, for me.

But I’d had to give her her wallet, and her phone, which she’d left on the dance floor.

But she was on a girl’s night out, with women I worked with. And if she wasn’t happy to wake up with me, I’d have done my career serious damage.

But I was senior to her at work, though she wasn’t in my section.

But she wasn’t terribly old, or terribly experienced.

So when I packed her into that taxi, and took the cab number and driver’s ID and told him she’d get home safe or else (cab drivers raping drunk girls is an issue in my city), it was a no-brainer.

It was cool, statistically. I’d never met another woman who came with so many reasons for not having sex with her.

Pre-fab Frottage: A Suburban Horror Song

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His brain was quite low wattage,

That man in the pre-fab cottage

Who took the evangelist hostage

And rubbed her with his sausage.

They arrested him for frottage. 

 

The sad thing was, it really was a sausage. But “frottage”, or non-penetrative sexual rubbing, is a real problem on Japanese public transport, where commuters with erections don’t ask for consent.

Reasons not to have sex part 2

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From ‘The Philadelphia Story”

Mike: Mr Kittredge, it may interest you to know that our so-called affair consisted of exactly two kisses and one rather late swim both of which I thoroughly enjoyed and the memory of which I wouldn’t part with for anything. After which I returned here, carried her to her room, deposited her on her bed and promptly returned here which you will no doubt remember.
Kittredge: That’s all?
Mike: That’s all.
Tracy: (indignant) Why? Was I so cold? So forbidding?
Mike: Not at all. On the contrary but you were somewhat the worse or the better for the wine and there are rules about such things.

Halloween salute to hurricane girl

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I grew up in one of those places where you take your shirt off and go to the beach if the temperature gets up to 18 degrees. And where you’re a piker if you don’t go for a swim, in the ocean, on mid-winter’s day. 

So I know that people died in Hurricane Sandy, and I’m not underestimating that, but still, the human truth is that when I saw pictures of the winds and the huge waves, and the lights going out, I thought, “That looks like fun! I’d love to be out in that!” 

I was watching tv coverage of the aftermath, and in the background of one of the shots there was a girl at the stormy seaside, in a bikini, with a busted umbrella. The camera operator didn’t notice her and they just panned on. She was only on-screen for a couple of seconds.

But if ever there was a right response to something as solemn as a natural disaster, that was it. I’m really surprised that she doesn’t seem to have become more of an internet thing, because I’d love to know the rest of the story. 

Anyway, whoever the hell you are, bikini in the storm girl, salute to you. 

Reasons not to have sex, Part 1

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Most people know that when they look back, flat on their back in a hospital bed, hopefully with an oxygen tube, good drugs, hot nurses and howling loved ones, they’re going to spend more time thinking about love and sex than about money or work. And that they’ll regret the sexual opportunities they passed up far more than they regret any fucks they did have, no matter how indiscreet or just plain wrong those bad fucks were.

So why do people turn down sex? First reason: you don’t fancy the person who might be available and interested. That’s a good reason.

Another reason is that you might hurt someone else by having sex with that person. That’s a good reason too, though you can take it too far.

For example, there are women who’ve had another male suitor hanging around for years, and he’d pursued her pathetically, listening, worshipping, being kind and decent, and so on. I’ve felt sorry for that guy, because sometimes he’s been around when a girl has taken me to her bedroom. But the hurt you do him isn’t a good enough reason not to have sex with that girl.

I know this because I’ve also been that guy a couple of times, which is once too many, and I know that it’s best to learn not to be that guy. That learning necessarily is painful. But the lesson is worth it: women hate that guy.

I’ve also found that women who break that guy’s heart as they take you into their bedroom often want something that night: the opposite of worshipful respect. Maybe I’ve found that because I’m a dom, and so I’m sensitive to some signals. Maybe I’ve missed other signals someone else would see.

Anyway, women who’ve been worshipped too long often want things done to them that border on bdsm, but that you can reasonably do without having a negotiation first. Like holding her hands together and pushing them above her head and into the mattress; like growling at her to keep still while you suck and bite her nipples; like finding a reason to give her arse a smack. A certain bastardly lack of worship can be like rain after a drought.   

But if you’ll hurt your own lover by having sex with someone else, then there’s another good reason not to. 

We’re working around to our topic, which is: times not to do bdsm.

Bdsm in the workplace: a confession

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Today’s a working day. 

I don’t have time to continue the Diane anecdote today.  

Here’s a much shorter story. It’s a confession.

I edited a magazine for a couple of years. A typesetter I hired in the second year kept doing the punchline from the Galahad sequence in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. That’s when all the castle virgins cry out: A spanking! A spanking! And after the spanking … the oral sex! Well, “After the spanking, the oral sex,” was pretty much her catchphrase.

Also, she was a terrible typist. Slow, and inaccurate. Anything she typed  I’d have to wait for, and when it came it’d be full of mistakes. A proof-reader’s nightmare.

Fate was trying to set me up with a strict boss/naughty secretary scenario. Dropping it in my lap, as it were. And … I never did a damn thing about it.