Friday, February 26, 2010
He lays back down on the blanket, fully exposed to the dark. He shudders as my short but sharp fingernails brush lightly over his soft skin. A gentle touch on his shoulder and he is a leaf. My fingers whisper across his neck, up his rounded jaw and explore the slightly sweaty skin of his face as if I were blind. His cheeks are hollows with pronounced bones. His brow is strong and bushy and his eyes wide set. The ears are delicate and small while the hair is wiry and thick. He moans when I pull at it. I travel my fingers to the top of his head, then cascade them down a sloping nose to trace wide, full lips. When his lips close on my index finger, I remove my hand. One breath, two, my fingers return, but he allows them to glide along his lips, pull them apart and slide over his crooked but well tended teeth. My other hand begins to roam down his chest with the lightest brush of nails. I lean over him, my face inches from his. “Cinnamon,” he sighs. I wonder if he actually spoke or if I imagined it as once again a licorice scent caresses my nostrils. I swing a leg over to straddle him. He quakes as the soft fabric of my dress brushes over his chest. I exhale cool air along his skin. I bury my hands in the jungle of his twisted hair. I sigh and run a moist tongue along the side of his face.
“You taste like a garden of herbs,” my voice is husky, thick with the surprise of my discovery. “Rosemary, garlic, sage and a hint of mint.” I smile against his skin. Planting a kiss on his cheek, then sucking at his lips as my hands massage his scalp. I feel him resisting the urge to grab me and pull me into a kiss. I grin as I press my lips lightly against his.
“Good boy,” I whisper into his mouth, causing his lips to tremble. As my lips embrace his, I slide my tongue into his mouth. I suck the air from him as I explore the soft meaty texture of him. His mouth tastes only faintly of whiskey but more strongly of mint and, there’s that tint of licorice. Suddenly overwhelmed, he drives his tongue into my mouth. I bite it, causing his eyes to pop open. “Uh-uh-uh-uh. Bad boy.”
“But...” he mutters, trying to prop himself up to his elbows.
My hand is to his mouth and I lean into his chest. “No buts about it. Either I explore you without interruption, or you leave. Your choice.”
“Remember,” I speak with lips inches from his right ear, “you agreed to my terms.” I gently graze teeth over his lobe as I add, “if you were going to negotiate, you should have done so before we began. Now, it’s too late.” I pull my head away and move off him. I’m inches from him, but no longer touching. I can feel he wants to say something, but instead, he becomes a granite statue. “Better,” I murmur as my hands stroke his face. With my cheek against his hair, I breathe in and sigh. “You smell of jasmine.” I lean into him, my lips press against his throat as I lightly tongue the hardness of his larynx. I lick my way around his neck and suck at the base by the delicate collarbone. I pull the fragile flesh between my teeth and bite. He gasps, but lays still. Leaving a ring of small wet bites along the collarbone, I glide down his chest with gentle kisses all over the skin, pausing only to graze teeth across each nipple sending chills through his body.
I walk my hands over his belly, and he giggles. “Ticklish?” I ask, my grin is in the word as I play with his lack of control for a bit. I can feel he’s right on the verge of calling it quits, when I stop tickling. I suck my finger and slide a path through the thin trail of hair from his belly button to his cock. A series of fondling strokes followed by wet caresses from my mouth causes him to inhale the room as his organ rises. He is thick and longer than I can hold in my mouth. I use one hand to stroke the base of the shaft as my other hand massages his balls and inner thighs. A strange grazing sound reaches my ears. It takes me a moment to realize that it’s his fingernails clawing into the blanket. I gently touch one of the hands and he relaxes. But, as his body teeters on the brink, the clawing starts again.
I stop just short of causing him to explode. My hands slide down over his thighs, caress each of his knobby knees, nuzzle his calves and massage his feet. I feel him tense as I reach his feet, but as I rub them, he relaxes. I work my way back up his body to take his mouth into mine as I lower my hips and grind him through my dress.
Sliding off him, I punch the trembling boy’s shoulder with the heel of my hand. “Your turn.”
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
I was thinking how much easier life would be if I could just pop out of the hectic every day to do just that. It works really well on days I'm not working at my job and merely working on my writing or some other at home type thing on my days off. I just don't think it would go over all that well at work. "Excuse me, I must go masturbate before we continue this conversation." I'm guessing that no amount of assurance that I will come back renewed & better able to deal with the BS will make up for the inappropriateness. Oh well.... such is life. ;)
Monday, February 22, 2010
NSE - new story energy ;)
Friday, February 19, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Mistress Ninian - Why that's me, of course!
little one - my sub side
Ms. Mafia - my lascivious school teacher persona
Artist - One of my dearest & oldest friends. She is my hetero-lifemate for whom I'd do just about anything.
Sir - Same woman, but as the dom to me as 'little one'. This is a rather new development.
Crumpet - my boyfriend
Chlymedia - Crumpet's naughty teenage persona
Kim - Crumpet's obedient maid persona
Firebird / Gypsy - my longtime friend who's an amazing writer & actress (I'm not quite sure how she ended up with two names, but it's fitting for her.)
Freak Family - A group of friends, including the Artist, Plus, his wife, her boyfriend, his wife and me, who is working towards building a close knit community.
Seamstress - Crumpet's wife
Plus - the Artist's boyfriend
FryGuy - a friend I met camping who lives in Ohio & one of the folks in charge of LaGarou's CampOUT
Lady Hawk - another writerly friend
Wolf - a writerly friend I had a bit of a fling with a while ago
Feel free to comment if there is someone else you want to know more about or if there is someone I neglected to mention.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
That said, enjoy!
Chlamydia chewed her bottom lip as she studied the Mafia. There were somethings that even her friends didn't know and she felt a bizarre urge to confess them all to this power suit woman. For gods sake, the woman had her long black hair neatly gathered in a tight bun! You don't get any more uptight than that. Still, Chlamydia found the older woman to be rather attractive. But if her friends heard about her attraction to a woman, especially a school counselor, she'd never hear the end of it.
She swiveled in her chair again and told her story to the ceiling. "Pops keeps to his Den when he wants to be alone. It's his 'no kid' zone. He would also like to keep mom out of there, but since the house was ours before he moved in, he wouldn't dare tell her that. Anyhow, that's where the couch is. He had a really old school radio in there and he kept it on easy listening jazz while he napped. Usually, this meant that I could do whatever I wanted as long as I was home about 8 pm when he'd cook up something for us to eat.
"When Gothica, Ruby and the Arabian arrived, we conspired in my room. We'd already planned what we were going to do during the week so we were really just making sure we had all the supplies. Gothica brought Duct tape and a grocery bag of something she said was a surprise that we may or may not need, Ruby had several scarves and ribbons and a pair of her dad the cop's handcuffs and the Arabian had managed to sneak out one of his mom's sample bags. She did home sex toy parties and she always had samples stashed around the house. Since I was providing the place, the victim and the plan, I didn't have to bring anything.
"The main idea was to get pops while he was still sleeping. As quietly as we could, we set everything up in the den. Since he was laying on his side facing the room with one arm hanging on the ground and the other across his chest, we were going to have to start by tying his hands in front of him.
"I didn't want him to know what was going on, so I positioned everyone. Ruby was by his head with one of her scarves ready to cover his eyes as soon as he started waking up. The Arabian stood at the end of the couch prepared to pounce on pop's legs if he tried to get a way. Gothica had another long scarf looped in a noose that she slipped around the wrist of the hand that was dragging on the ground. She carefully tied it off and pulled that hand up to wind the rest of the scarf around the other wrist. She had it completely tied off before pops even stirred. Ruby gently lifted his head for the scarf she was blindfolding him with. He inhaled deeply, causing us to freeze, then he snored. We snickered as Ruby tightened the blindfold."
"He didn't wake up at all?" Ms. Mafia looked doubtful.
"Nah. My pops usually slept pretty soundly. In fact, the Arabian and I were able to get him up and sit him in a chair before he started waking up. We even got his feet tied to the front legs of the chair before he really woke up. By then, it was too late. There was no way he was going to escape what we had planned for him."
"What was that?"
"Don't you want to hear the whole story?"
The Mafia sighed. "Yes... proceed."
"For about the first half hour, we would poke at him and giggle while he asked over and over again, 'what the hell is going on?' and, 'who are you people?'
Once he stopped asking, Ruby unbuttoned his shirt and ran her hand in his chest hair. She'd grab handfuls and pull saying, 'my, what thick hair you have.'
Oh! That's one of the things we decided. I wasn't allowed to talk. I mean, I could talk to them, but not loud enough for him to hear 'cause he might recognize my voice."
"You were afraid of getting in trouble?"
"Well yeah. We'd have to let him go eventually. And while I'm pretty sure I could control him, my mom's a whole different story."
(to be continued...)
Monday, February 15, 2010
"It says here that we should find the Sire and..." She trailed off, reading to herself.
"And...?" The gray haired woman cocked an eyebrow.
The younger woman looked up. "Grandma, it says we have to kill him."
The older lady blinked. "But he's already dead."
"I know. It's just that he was supposed to be killed in a certain way and since we can't kill him again, we're stuck." She pursed her lips together.
"No!" The grandmother shouted, slamming a fist on the table. The bowl of candles shook but stayed lit. "There has to be another way."
"There is... ONE other way." The blond sighed and gently closed the book.
After a moment, the older woman snorted and asked, "well? What can we do?"
The younger woman leaned her chin into her cupped hands, placing her elbows firmly on the table. Her emerald eyes stared at her grandmother for several minutes unblinking. "We have to find HIS sire and seduce HIM. Then we both have to... take advantage of him."
"You mean we have to fuck the head werewolf?"
Covering her face, the younger woman nodded and spoke in a muffled voice. "Yes, grandmother. That's exactly what I mean."
Sunday, February 14, 2010
This is a scene between Margaret, the gagged maid, and Charlie.
Once we were in my bedroom, Margaret’s grip on my wrist tightened as she dragged me to the foot of the bed. She sat down, pulled me over her knee and flipped my nightgown up over my head in one smooth move. My pink panties with bows all over them were quickly around my knees and she began smacking each cheek with such force I knew I was going to bruise. I squirmed and tried to put my hand in her way to stop her from spanking so hard. She merely grabbed my hand and pulled it up to the middle of my back.
“Ow! That hurts!”
“It’s supposed to.” Her voice was gentle but deep. I realized she wasn’t gagged. I twisted my head to look up at her unfettered mouth. As if reading my mind, she commented to the tempo of her hits. “I am only required to be gagged in His presence.”
I managed to squirm away a few times, but she’d just pull me back and start all over again. After what seemed like a rhythmic eternity of flesh smacking flesh until I ached all over and begged and pleaded with her to stop with my legs kicking the air, she stopped.
Or rather paused.
My left arm was trapped between our bodies and my right arm was numb from being held at such a sharp angle. She stood me up and I sighed with relief thinking we were done. But then she turned me and with the ribbon from her hair, she tied my wrists together behind my back. Once again, she positioned me onto her lap in such a way that my ass was pointing up to the sky. Only this time, she put one leg over my legs, trapping me next to her crotch. I was surprised to feel something pressing against my hip, but before I could say anything, the beatings began again… with a large wooden spoon she’d pulled out of her apron pocket.
“Ow! No! Stop! Please!” I could feel bruises blossoming on top of each other.
“No stop please? Well, if you insist. I will not stop… yet.”
The hits came faster and harder until I was crying. I heard a crack then felt a sharp pain. Margaret dropped me off her lap.
“Oh crap. Are you okay?”
I looked up at her from the floor and saw that the spoon was broken. Where the handle met the ladle, it had cracked and some of the wood had splintered out. There was a red smear on the wood. I blinked, realizing it was my blood.
Margaret had me roll over onto my belly and inspected my ass. “Oh sweety! It looks like you got a splinter. Let’s get you into the shower and I’ll get the tweezers.” As we went into the bathroom, she untied me, taking off my panties and my gown leaving it in a trail behind us. She had me lean over the edge of the bathtub so that she could remove the splinter.
“Hold still or I’ll never get it out.”
“I’m gonna tell,” I threatened through gritted teeth. She held the tweezers in front of my face with the offending piece of wood. I stood up straight rubbing my ass.
“There. You’re such a brat! I’m so glad He said I could do what I wanted with you.” She smiled wickedly then began removing her uniform.
I hopped into the tub, my eyes wide. “What’re you doing?”
She folded the dress and apron neatly then placed them on the back of the toilet. Sitting down to remove her shoes and stockings, she raised an eyebrow. “If I’m giving you a shower, I’m climbing in with you and I am not about to get my uniform wet.” She had small pert breasts that I couldn’t stop looking at. That is, until her erect penis popped out of her panties.
“You… what… I thought…” My mouth hung open from the unfinished thoughts.
Her wicked smile pulled high and tight as her voice fell a couple of octaves. “Little girl, how could you not have known? It was pressing up against you when I was spanking you.”
“But I… I didn’t know…”
“Do you take everything at face value?” She crossed her arms over her chest as her shoulders slumped. She sighed. “Quit staring. We’ve got to get you cleaned up for the Master.”
I licked my lips. “I’m sorry if I’m staring. It’s just, you’re so beautiful.” I sighed. “You’re a bi-girl’s dream… or, at least, this bi-girl’s dream.” I smiled.
She straightened, tilting her head and narrowed her eyes as she studied me. “You’re kidding, right?” Her hazel eyes softened. “You’re not, are you?”
I shook my head and crooked my finger for her to join me in the shower. She stepped in hesitantly. I wrapped my fingers around her engorged cock and pulled her to me. I stood on tiptoes to reach her lips; she tasted like bubblegum.We lathered each other, paying particular attention to each other’s breast and nipples, her cock and balls and my clit. We both came in each other’s hands, rinsing off and sharing a secret smile.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Chlamydia spun in the swivel chair, chewing on the thin red coffee straw. She leaned her head way back and crossed her eyes at the ceiling. Who has a last name of Mafia? It sounded as fake as Chlamydia but not as cool. She didn't want to discuss anything with this dyke counselor. She particularly didn't want to discuss her sexual awakening... or was it awakenings? She stopped spinning and chewing and wondered what the woman would say to her asking if there could be multiple awakenings. Stretching her arms up high, she dropped the straw behind her head, cracked her knuckles, sighed and sat forward. Ms. Mafia hadn't moved a muscle from her good posture, fingers laced as if to pray position behind her desk. Chlamydia snorted. It was painfully clear that the Mafia could sit in silence much better than she could. She spun once more, to see the clock that was hanging over the doorway. She'd only been there for 15 minutes. If she was lucky, she'd only have 45 more minutes. The lucky part being, if the Mafia didn't decide to keep her through her next class like she did last time. She sighed again. Well, if she was going to be stuck here anyway she might as well give the Mafia something juicy to gnaw on.
"At my fifteenth birthday party, mom got drunk. Nothing new, it's what she always does. It wouldn't have bothered me in the least except she seduced the guy I was after ala Mrs. Robinson. I always hated that movie! It was kind of sad and pathetic really, but Leo, that's the stupid guy's name, was totally into it. I mean, I get that my mom's hot. I was used to the guys calling her the Milfiest MILF that ever there was. But I never expected her to be such a cougar or to disregard my feelings entirely! But whatever. I decided to get even." She paused.
Ms. Mafia tilted her head waiting for Chlamydia to finish. After about a minute, she asked, "how?"
Chlamydia grinned. "Okay, you might think this is really wrong, but whatever. I kinda-- well, me and my friends, we abducted my pops."
"My dad. Well, sorta my dad. I mean, he was and had been since I was seven. But he's not my biological father. Not that it would make any difference to me." She paused and thought about that for a second. Would it? She never knew her biological father, but the incest taboo felt strong even with her step-dad. She knew she was crossing a very fine line. "Anyhow, pops was cute. He and mom were on the outs and, along with getting back at mom, I didn't want him to leave." This also made her pause. She had never admitted that out loud and hated to now. She shook her head, causing her blue hair to fall in her face. "It was me and three other friends." She peeked at the Mafia through the veil of hair.
Ms. Mafia was leaning forward, completely engrossed in the story. "Well, go on."
Okay, so the weekend after my party and after a long week of mom and pops fighting 'cause he found a condom wrapper in their bed that wasn't his and mom wouldn't come clean, mom was out of town for business. So I had Gothica, Ruby and Arabian come over."
Ms. Mafia cocked an eyebrow. Not their real names, I take it."
"Well duh. Just 'cause I'm going to a different school doesn't mean we don't hang out and they'd kill me if my telling you about this got them in trouble."
Ms. Mafia nodded.
"Anyhow." She sighed, wondering how much trouble she was going to get into for confessing all of this. She didn't really care, but she kinda did. She eyed the Mafia and decided that the risk was worth it. "Since pops worked so late at night, he did a lot of sleeping during the day and even during the weekend he'd mostly sleep days as that was his cycle. So I knew he'd be crashed out on the couch for several hours while I got the crew ready in my room."
And that's what I've got so far. More to come!
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
This got me to thinking.... What other odd limits do I have?
I have some hard limits that are based in being safe (always use condoms or some form of protection, do not play with scat or blood... though blood intrigues me & if I was with someone I trusted who was into blood play too, that limit might be lifted), sane & consensual (no animals, children or corpses). I've discovered that I have a few hard (& not so hard) odd limits that are based on personal preference.
- balloons - yeah, no. (It's not a clown thing, though. I'm okay with clowns & even more so with jesters.)
- outside in winter - I don't like the cold &, unlike Crumpet, I don't get turned on when my feet are frozen.
- verbal humiliation - it just doesn't do it for me. I tend to sneer at anyone trying to verbally humiliate me & feel just plain rude when I'm humiliating someone else. (Now this does not include teasing. I LOVE teasing!)
- extended periods of time on my knees - I have bad knees.
- concerts - I HATE large crowds. I'm a bit agora-homicidal.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
I replied, "I just posted. Did you not see the one on cunnilingus?"
To this she rolled her eyes and moaned, "That was like yesterday. I want MORE!!!"
To which I replied with quivering lip, "Bu-but*, I'm trying to post twice a week and I'm doing okay with that so far... I think."
She snorted and walked away.
nor was my lip quivering.
I just thought it'd be more
dramatic that way.
This got me to thinking. Part of my hesitancy to post every day stems from the fact that I fear my posts will lack in substance. However, I've noticed that even when I don't post every day, I still have posts that are... well, flaccid. Does this mean I shouldn't post unless I'm wet when I read my own words? No. I'd have a lot less entries if that were the case. Everything here does not have to be polished & pretty, nor does it have to be pussy dripping or boner making... that's for paid publications. So, dear readers, I am challenging myself to offer up my words daily. *eek!*
I am quite certain Sir will be more than happy and exceedingly able to hold me to my challenge as she is one of the fastest readers I know. Hmmmmm... now I'm wondering what punishment she will dole out if I do not meet this goal. I just hope it has nothing to do with balloons. *shudder* (OOOOOhhhh! I think I've got tomorrow's topic!) :D
In other news, I'm scouring Fetlife to find places to post my writing and promote my blog. I'm also working towards getting the blog organized in such a way that anyone could easily find entries by topic. Any suggestions are most appreciated!
And publications... if you have any leads on erotic publications, I would be as delighted as a toe curling orgasm if you shared them with me.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
He has been paying homage on a somewhat regular basis and damn is he getting good! Not that he wasn't before, just that his good gets better each time. (I don't know how that's possible, I just know that it's true.) Usually, after I've cum several times and his tongue is exhausted, we slap a condom on him and I ride him until I cum one (or two or three) more time(s). Because he's expressed his delight in being used and in orgasm denial, I rarely allow him to get off as well.
Which leads me to an interesting observation. If I were in a monogamous D/s relationship with him, that "orgasm denial" would extend to his time away from me. I would forbid him the pleasures of masturbation until a specific time in the future. But we're poly and for me to forbid him anything when he's away from me, would be me putting restrictions on him with his relationship with his wife. I don't believe the Seamstress would go for that nor would I expect her to. The sex life they share has nothing to do with me or my relationship with Crumpet. While there is a part of me that would love to play the game of teasing him to the edge over and over and knowing he's getting no release until I say so, it's a very small part. I'm finding that I enjoy not allowing him an orgasm with me much more for the very fact that I know he does get off elsewhere. It also means that I can play this game indefinitely. *insert evil wicked grin here*