Kink Weekly

BDSM articles ideas bondage erotica resource

You are here: Home / Archives for Erotica

Erotica

Piggie’s Day Out

By 2 Comments

big little cute woman with pigtails and teddy bear
via stock.adobe.com

***All works of erotica are fictional. We NEVER condone anything that is not consensual.

You have talked about this trip for months.

It started in passing.  You wanted to go visit some of your old haunts.  You wanted to see what had changed, who was still there, and surprise a few members of your leather family.

I was excited for you.

It’s not often you get the chance to be free Sir.  For you to take even these three days to visit is out of the ordinary. 

You were all set.  You asked me to book you a room.  After all, you cannot surprise family if you ask ahead of time to stay there.

I booked you a room with a king size bed, located only a few doors from the jacuzzi.  Long trips like this are murder on your body.  I know you will need to relax, and the heat will help you.

About a month ago, you asked me to come with.  I was surprised.  You had been looking forward to some time to yourself.  I did not wish to be underfoot.

You told me it was my decision.  Logically, you planned on taking some gear to use at a party and you would appreciate the help but would not force me to go.

I knew I was going the minute you asked.  Even kneeling quietly in a corner while you played would be enjoyable to me.  

I like watching you play Sir.

Course, I have never met a girl who was not mesmerized by you.

It is Friday now.  We are up before the sun, packing the van with your gear, our clothes, and a small cooler with drinks and snacks.

We have seven hours of driving ahead of us.  I am not looking forward to that.  I am worried I will get motion sick, like I often do, but you seem far less worried.

I run downstairs and say my goodbyes to the family, stopping to grab a jacket.  I know it will be cold for a while.

I lay my jacket in the car and I hear you call me into the garage.  I figured you needed my help.

I was wrong.

I stepped through the open door and one hand is on the back of my neck while your other covers my mouth.

You stare me down and get close to my face.

“Shh.  From this point out, you are in service mode.  You will worry about nothing.  Is that understood?”. You remove your hand from my mouth.

“Yes Sir”. My voice is breathy.  It often is when you take control so suddenly.

“Good.  Bend over and pull your panties down.”

The garage door is wide open.  Anyone could see us.  But it’s been less than a minute since you told me I am in service mode and I have no desire to start the trip on a bad note.

I bent over, pulling my short black sun dress up my back and my lace panties to my knees.

Two of your fingers rub across my clit.  You know I have no control. A few short strokes and then you plunged your fingers right inside me.  I gritted my teeth.  I have always been tight, and I cannot naturally lube.  We both know it hurts without preparation.

You finger fuck me until I am trying to push back against you.  

“Still.”

I whined softly.  I do not wish to be caught but I am always desperate when you touch me.

I felt something round press against my cunt.  It slips inside with only a bit of pressure.

You replace my panties and prompt me to stand up.  I am pulled back against your chest and your lips rest against my ear.

“That will stay in place until I say otherwise.  Did you pack the rest of what I asked?”

“Yes Sir,” I responded, thinking of both the clothespins and the clover clamps in my purse.

This is going to be an interesting ride and we have not even left yet.

We have been on the road for about two hours now and I don’t know how much longer I can take this.  Without so much as a word, you keep turning on the toy you slipped  inside of me.  I should have known it would be more involved than just keeping me filled for the trip.

Fast pulses until I am nearing the edge.  Then you cut the power.  My body convulses with the sudden stop.  I know better than to cum without permission.  Even if you are pushing my body to the limit, repeatedly.

Four hours in and my body is beyond tense.  You have been edging me continuously for the whole trip.  Soon, we see a sign that says we are five miles from the next town.  Your game intensifies.

“We are going to stop for gas and to get a drink.”  When you smile, I know that is not all that will be happening.

“Yes, Sir”

“Take the clamps out of your purse and put them on.”  You wait patiently as I do as instructed.  I gasp a little at the pressure.  The clover clamps bite hard on my tender flesh and press uncomfortably against my piercings.  I have never made it more than an hour in these, and that was pushing myself to tears.  “Now, slip your panties off.”  Just as I start removing them, you turn the toy to high and I squeeze my legs together just to gain some semblance of control.  I slide them down kick them from my ankles.  I move to pick them up, but you tell me to leave them.  

“When we stop, you are going to go inside and get us drinks.  Take your time sweetie, I will be waiting.”

My head drops down to my chest.  I know that my cheeks are turning a soft shade of red.  You know how much this embarrasses me to be so underdressed in public.

“What’s a matter sweetie?”

“Nothing, Sir.  I am feeling very shy.”

“Awww, poor little piggie.”

That just turns me an even brighter red.  I enjoy being your little piggie, but I am extremely shy outside of our home.  You love pushing me to face that embarrassment.

It is only a few miles to the gas station, and I am already feeling the bite of the clamps.  I close my eyes, trying to breathe through the pain.  Of course, you knew what I was trying to do.  You prefer when I stay in the moment.  

Suddenly, I feel your hand slap down onto my bare thigh.  My eyes fly open and I grunt from the force.  I look at you and you are simply grinning, keeping your eyes on the road.  I look down to my leg and I can see the outline of your palm.  The imprint won’t stay long but I will feel the smack for a long while.

We pull to a stop before I realize we have arrived.  I grab my wallet and my mask.  I still find it ironic that my face is covered but the rest of me is bare beneath my dress.  I am slow to close the passenger door after I get out and you raise an eyebrow at me.  

I take a deep breath, turn around, and head inside.  I have never felt like my dress was too short or revealing as I have at this moment.  It feels like all the eyes are on me.  My hands nervously tuck at the hem of my dress, tugging it down.  I kneel down slowly to get our drinks.  They are always on the bottom of the cooler, but you knew that.  I curse you under my breath as the vibrations start up again.  I grab the drinks and my legs wobble slightly as I try to stand.  

You are impossible, Sir.

I slowly make my way up to the counter.  I wave away a kind strangers concern at how I am walking.  I must look a right sight.  I breathe deeply as I wait for my turn to pay.  It is instances like this that I am thankful my face is covered. 

I swipe my card and offer my thanks as I grab my bag.  I walk as quickly as I can to the car without raising suspicion.  I reach for the handle, only to find the door locked.  I look through the window and you are staring at me with your fingers on the lock.  The toy surges to its highest setting and my forehead drops against the window.  I am going to collapse at this rate.  My legs are shaking, and my breathing is getting erratic.

I know you can see me whispering against the window.  It is a continuous litany of “please” and “Sir.”  I am not even sure if I am asking to finally be allowed an orgasm or if I just want inside the car.  After a couple of minutes, I hear the lock click open.  I open the door and climb inside.  

“What took you so long sweetie?”  

I just glare at you as you chuckle.  You are far too amused by this.

I pop the top on your drink as you pull away from the gas station.  You have silenced the toy for now but without the distraction, I am starting to feel the intense pain of the clamps.  They have been on nearly twenty minutes now.  I can feel the pain radiating into my back.  

“Sir, may I remove the clamps?”

“When we reach city limits.”

I close my eyes.  That is nearly five miles.  Red light after red light, five miles is a very long time.

Two miles down and I am unsure if I can do this any longer.  “Please, Sir.”

“No.  You are almost there sweetie.  You can do this.”  Deep breath.

I am watching the street signs intently.  Another mile down.  My hands have curled into a fist.  You have kept the toy silent for a reason.  You want me to experience the pain without distraction.  You want me to endure it.  You want me to know that I can.

One mile to go.  My body is stoic.  Every movement antagonizes the clamps.  The cloth of my dress is nearly unbearable.

As soon as we crossed the city limits, I was ready to remove them.  “Please Sir.  May I remove them now?”  Its always better to double check with you.  I never know if you will have changed your mind and start something even more wicked.

“Yes, you may.  You did good.”

I removed them and immediately press my palms against my nipples as the blood rushed back into them.  It is so intense.  All I want to do is be allowed to orgasm.  I know that is a long time away.  But a girl can dream.

It has been a long trip Sir.  My body is exhausted.  You have been edging me for eight hours, if we include the stops we made.  My skin is so sensitive.  My dress feels heavy and the slight breeze makes my knees quiver.  You have had the toy tease me, pushed me with my clamps, and had me tease myself openly on the drive.  I can tell you that seats are high enough that I am positive I was on full display.  Is that why we took the roads that are crowded with semi-trucks?

You get us checked in to the hotel.  We are not meeting anyone else until tomorrow.  So, this should be a good chance to relax.

I should have known better.

Once everything is put away, you take a seat in the wingback chair near the window.  The curtains are drawn, and you ask me to come stand in front of you.  You sit forward slightly, and your hands wrap around my thighs, resting on my ass.  I stand silently, waiting for your instruction.

You pull one hand back and bring it up to cover my cunt.  My eyes rest on the top of your head and my hands come up to your shoulder as you smack my lips hard. Two, three, four times.  Your fingers slip between my lips as my fingers tighten on your shoulders.  My legs are shaking as I hold myself still. You slide over my clit.  Its so sensitive from all the teasing.  I can feel the pulsing in my back.  You slide forward and I feel you hook the toy and pull it.  I feel so swollen and the tugging hurts.  You bring your other hand off my ass and snap twice.  

With relief, I let my legs give out and drop to my knees.  My eyes go to the floor and my hands rest on my thighs.

Your fingers come up to my lips and I suck them clean without hesitation.  Once you are satisfied, you bring the toy to my lips and I repeat the process.  You pull it from my mouth and drop it into my hands.  My head drops forward onto your knees as I steady myself.   

You run your fingers through my hair and speak softly.  “When you are settled, I want you to crawl to the bathroom and leave the toy by the sink to be cleaned later.  Then I want you to crawl to the door and bring back the bag I left there.  Do you understand, piggie?”

I nod my head.  Your fingers tighten in my hair and pull my head back to look you in the eye.  “Care to try that again?”

“Yes, Sir.  I understand, Sir.”

You let my hair go and I relax back into position.  I appreciate that you are letting me settle into my role.  It has been so long since I have been in continuous service like this.  My head is in its confused state.  It is where I can still feel the pain and sensitivity, but my mind has yet to clear of everyday stress.  I need this.  I need to just be here, with you, and forget everything else.

Thank you for knowing me as you do.

I think I am ready now.

I lift my head from your knee and slip the toy between my teeth.  I turn and start crawling to the bathroom.  In no time at all, I bring the small black bag to you.  It is heavy between my teeth, but I am determined not to drop it.

You pull the bag from my grip and stand.  You step around me.  I can hear you laying items on the table, but I have no idea what it could be.  I desperately want to peak but I know better.

I startle slightly when your hand rests on my head.  I am losing myself in service.  My mind is calm, even though my body is still sensitive from play.  I breathe deeply and relax my shoulders.  

I can do anything you ask of me, Sir.  

“Come here piggie.”

I turn and crawl the few feet to you.

“Kneel up.”  Your hands are on my chainmaille collar and I feel the clasp give way.  You slide the metal across my collar bone and down my tummy until you drop it into my hands.  I feel the strip of leather of my formal collar tighten around my neck.  As always, my head tips up to look you in the eye.  You have it tight enough to get my attention and make me gasp.  You loosen it to your liking and buckle it closed.  You tug harshly on the frontmost O-Ring and stare me down.  The longer our eyes meet, the harder it is to keep eye contact.  

It only take a few minutes before you let go of my collar and my body drops heavy back onto my knees.

“Tonight, we are going to have company.”

My eyes widen.  We haven’t done this before Sir.  I mentioned it, just once, when you asked me what one of my deepest desires was.  I told you I wanted to serve you in public.  I wanted to conquer my fears and overcome my shyness, my hesitancy.

But now, I am extremely nervous.

“Look at me.”  I glance up.  “I am going to show off my little piggie.  I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

I look into your eyes and the moments tick by in silence.  You are waiting for an answer.  I am curious if you believe you will hear my agreement or my safeword.  

I have told you I can take anything you have to offer.  I am not ready to back down yet.

“Yes, Sir”

I find myself dressed in my gear.  My ears keep my hair back.  It helps, considering how much you love to see it down.  The silicone nose is situated over my natural nose.  I still hate it with a passion.  The idea of anyone but you seeing this makes me extremely uncomfortable.  My tail is situated snuggly in my ass.  I entirely hate how much I have come to love my tail.  I enjoy any opportunity when I am allowed to wear it.

I am kneeling at your feet, the tail uncomfortably bending and adjusting inside me.

I am facing the door, my head resting on your knee.  My body is tense.  My head is filled with chaos.  I am unsure of how much I want this.  Dreaming it, and doing it, are far different.

Your voice is soft behind me.

“We are going to lay a few ground rules.  Tonight, you are just holes to fill and abuse. You will enthusiastically serve them as you do me.  Your ass is off limits.  Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”  My voice is soft but strong.  I make sure you clearly hear my answer.

“Do you have any questions?”

“No, Sir.”

Your fingers tighten in my hair and you pull my head back just enough to look at you.  “I know you will make me proud, little piggie.”  Your fingers release me hair and hook into my collar.  “This means you are mine.  I will always take care of you.”

“Thank you, Master.  I needed to hear that.”

You smile.  It is always a highlight of my day to see your smile.  It is so rare and you are always so reserved.

“Now, my little piggie slut, up on the bed with you.”  I crawl over to the bed and climb onto it, staying on all fours.  “They are going to be here soon.  I want you to relax for me.”  You remove my ears momentarily and put the hood over my face.  It is the one thing that makes me lose myself.  I hear nothing but the blood rushing through my ears.  I see nothing but the darkness of my eyelids.  I taste nothing as long as you keep the zipper closed.  You replace my ears and place a kiss to the top of my head.  “Lay down and rest.  I will wake you when it is time.”

With his blessing, I close my eyes and regulate my breathing.  A nap will do me good after everything today.

I woke to my body being bodily flipped onto my tummy.  There were hands on both my legs and they pushed them forward until I was forced onto my knees.  My face stayed against the mattress and my hands were caught underneath me. 

There are hands everywhere.  My breathing is erratic, and I am trying to figure out what is happening.  The zipper on my hood is undone and there is a thumb put into my mouth, pushing my tongue and jaw downward.

As soon as I felt it, I knew it was Master.  That is how he tests my self-control.  He will hold it for as long as possible to make sure I do not lick or suck without permission.  Being allowed to suck on his thumb is a rare reward.  I am oddly comforted under the pain. 

I feel fingers on my backside.  Someone is playing with the tail.  Every time they tug at it, or bounce it, it shifts inside me.  Then, without warning, there are two fingers inside of me.  I am unable to lube naturally.  I am guessing someone realized that as suddenly I felt someone spit on me.  I could feel it dripping down and it was warm as they pushed it inside of me.  

There was little prep.  Less than a minute later, there is a hard cock pressing into my semi-dry passage. I feel uncomfortably stretched.  I gasp sharply and as the man behind me starts to thrust harshly, there is a cock put to my lips.  There is a hand on the back of my head, adding pressure as they pushed as far back into my throat as they could.  My stomach and throat convulsed as my gag reflux was affected.  I inhaled through my nose as best I could, but the jarring movement, from the fucking, was making it hard to concentrate.

I tried to remember what Master had said.  That I would serve them enthusiastically.  I pulled back when he let my head go and brought myself up to my hands and knees.  Not knowing where anyone was, I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue.

It is not long before there is a cock in my mouth again.  I am unsure if it the same person or not.  I do not know how many people Master invited over.  I bob my head, licking and sucking.  I want to make Master proud.  I am never happier than when I get to use my mouth.

I felt the guy behind me grip tight to my hips as he finished.  It eased the burn of the next one who took his place.  I’ve never been fucked so roughly.  I am slightly panicked because I do not know where Master is.  I trust he would not have left me alone, but I miss his touch right now.  

I feel so full.  It is brutal.  I know that I will most definitely feel this tomorrow.

I lose count quickly of how they rotate.  My jaw is sore, and my head keeps getting pulled in different directions to be fucked.

At some point, someone pulls my ears from my head and the hood is yanked roughly from me.  I close my eyes against the light.  I can hear the murmuring of one of the men.  “She really is a pig, isn’t she?  Look at the nose.”

I can hear Master chuckle.  “She is my little piggie slut.  She is such a dirty piggie.”

I can hear myself mewl at his words.  It both embarrasses me and makes me whine in agreement.  I am dirty and I would do anything for Master.  

I was flipped onto my back, my head hanging off the bed.  One thrust down my throat and another into my swollen cunt.  My hands were grabbed and placed on another.  I wrapped my fingers around him and started stroking.  At least I now have a number.  Master invited three people to have free reign of my body.  

“Do not come down her throat.  Piggies are meant to be dirty.”  Master ordered.

And as he ordered, one covered my stomach and the other my breasts with their cum.  The third filled my passage with even more cum.  I could feel it dripping out of me.  I felt tired and use. And dirty.

“Bring her here.”  I felt myself picked up from the bed and tossed bodily to the floor.  My arms were shaking, and I struggled to bring myself to my hands and knees.  “Hold her.”  I felt a boot push press against my back and push me back into the carpet.  My arms went flat above my head.  Another put pressed against my cheek and the last set held my hands in place.

I felt tugging at my tail.  I started to try and struggle.  My knees were pressed into the carpet, under my stomach, by the boot on my back.  I had nowhere to go.  I pulled and pulled but I couldn’t move.

“Please.  Please no.”  I didn’t know who was behind me.  Only Master could touch me there. The tears welled in my eyes.  I wouldn’t be able to get away.  I would fail Master.  “Please, no.”

“Quiet.  I will do as I wish to my little piggie.”  I sobbed at his voice.  The tailed popped from my ass and I felt my walls pulse.  It was weird being empty again. 

You must have read my mind.  Without any extra lube or preparation, you pushed into me until you were fully seated.  It hurt.  Your pace was just as brutal as the others.  “Please, Sir, it hurts.”  I cry.  All I want to do is move away from the pain.  My body is held in place.  My neck is starting to hurt from the position but I am more focused on the pain radiating through my back.  “Please, Sir.  It hurts….it hurts so bad.”

“Hush and push back against me.”  I hear you laugh softly.  “Is piggie stuck?  Isn’t this what you wanted?  To be on a spicket and tenderized?”

I sob again.  I am losing myself in the humiliation.  I feel so exposed.  I hurt and I am filled and covered in cum.  My ass burns.  I am unsure of how much time is passed before I feel your fingers tighten on my hips and you slam deep inside me.  I feel your cum fill my ass.  After you finish, I hear you tell them to release me.  I feel like my body is made of lead.  Out of the corner of my eye, I see you standing over me.  

I shakily push myself up, slower than I would have liked, until I am on my knees.  I open my mouth and gently take your cock into my mouth.  I clean your cock with my tongue and then release you.  

I lean down to the floor and kiss each boot three times.  Then I murmur a soft thank you before kneeling back up.  Our scene is done now.  The adrenaline starts to slow.

My body is shaking.  I am cold now.

You remove the nose from my face and your hand rests on the top of my head.

“You did good, piggie.”

I don’t remember you sending the others home.  I remember falling back to the floor and curling up.  It did not matter that I was covered in cum.  I was exhausted.  I never expected this.  My body shakes from the adrenaline.  

I remember my head being pulled into your lap.  You are talking to me but it is hard to understand.  When I finally come out of the white noise, you offer to run me a bath.  I don’t want to be alone, even if the warm water sounds relaxing.  I shake my head.  Aftercare is the only time you allow me to answer non-verbally.

You move to get up and my hands tighten on your jeans.  “Sir?”

“I am getting a cloth to clean you up.  Then we will curl up and you can get your skin-to-skin contact.”

“Ok.”  I sighed.  

As you come back and start to wipe me down, I am comforted.

You always know what I need, Sir.

Even as I feel worn down, swollen, and somewhat broken, I know you will always be there to pick me up and put me back together.  

You pick me up and place me on the bed.  You make sure I am covered, so the shivering will stop soon.  As you crawl in with me, you beckon me over.  I curl my head onto your tummy and hand rubs my back reassuringly.

I feel my head go fuzzy and as I start to drift, I slur out the question I seem to ask every time. “piggie do good?”

I am positive I hear you laugh ever so slightly as you tell me “Yes, you are my good girl.”

My eyes drift close and I smile as I fall asleep.  

You will always keep me safe.  

I can rest now.

My name is Joji.  I am 29 years old currently and I have been in and around the kink community about 15 years.I am a collared submissive to Magick42.  I am also a Daddy to a wonderful babygirl, and have been for more than three years now and I find it very fulfilling.  I am being mentored in and being taught electroplay.  I am a masochist at heart and thoroughly love impact play, especially caning.  I enjoy reading anything I can get my hands on and am a die hard Harry Potter and Doctor Who fan.  I am also the secretary for a group in Idaho called Moscow S.P.A.R.K.E (Simply Providing Another Route to Kink Education).  It is our mission to teach safe practices to those new to the community and give them a safe haven to ask questions and learn without judgement.  We accept all kinks and all we ask in return is respect between all our members.

Starting The New Year Right

By 2 Comments

two beautiful slave girls lying in bed awaiting their master
via stock.adobe.com

Interestingly enough, their polycule involved the men as metas.  Both women were submissive to the men, yet together things just work well between them.  The men liked each other quite well, which meant group vacations and dinners worked nicely, the men having their time with the girl each was dating, with the girls holding hands between them.  They were excited to ring in the new year together.

The men had decided on whips, Lacy’s Master whipping her front surgically, while Maggie’s Daddy placed his strikes neatly along her upper back and ass cheeks.  By the end, both women were crying, punctuated by sharp screams.  The men chuckled and wandered off to the kitchen to pour champagne to toast the changing of the year while Maggie crawled on all fours over to her nude and recently striped girlfriend.  She playfully licked Lacy’s nipple.  “Want me to lick your boo boos?” she teased.

Lacy slapped Maggie’s ass, not terribly hard, but hard enough to make her hiss.  Both girls began to laugh, curled around one another on the floor.

The men returned shortly, passing out glasses.  The girls only got a splash, just enough to toast with.  None of them were fans of mixing alcohol with endorphins, but they didn’t want to miss the possibility of good luck for the next year, particularly with as rough as the past year had been.

The seconds ticked by and the men claimed their kisses at midnight, the women acknowledging their dominance first, then turning to kiss one another after.  They all understood the relationship structure quite well.

The four of them stayed awake a while longer, laughing, talking, and watching fireworks over the water, then the men excused themselves to their separate room, leaving the women the rest of the house to themselves.

Normally neither of them was particularly aggressive, but the men had taken care of the warm-up for them.  Nestled on the couch together, Lacy deftly adjusted a leg and slid into Maggie’s embrace, who responded by wrapping her legs around Lacy.  They kissed passionately, happy to have the time together. 

Maggie kissed her way down to Lacy’s striped and perky breasts, avoiding the lash marks.  She rolled one of Lacy’s nipples into her mouth.  She grazed the pierced nipple with her teeth before working it just the way she knew Lacy liked it.  Lacy’s head fell back as she moaned, reaching for her partner to maintain their connected touch.  Lacy tucked a strand of Maggie’s hair behind her ear, then slid that same hand teasingly down the side of her neck, the outer curve of her breast, and down to her spread thighs.

Lacy’s fingers touched wetness and she moaned again in response.  Maggie hummed her pleasure, opening her thighs slightly wider for exploration.  Lacy pressed her fingers into Maggie’s wet cunt, delighting in just how much wetness pooled there.  She slid a glass carrot in to replace her fingers.  “How’s that, baby?” she murmured.  Maggie nodded breathlessly as she hummed again.  

“I want to taste you,” she whispered in response, nudging Lacy to her untouched back, sliding off the edge of the couch to position between Lacy’s legs.  She lowered her mouth to Lacy’s clit, sliding a finger in just as easily as the carrot had slid inside of her.  “You’re so wet,” she breathed, sliding fingers against Lacy’s g-spot.  “I want to make you cum,” she said shyly, licking at the engorged clit and feeling glass between her own thighs.

She worked hand and mouth until Lacy squirted her orgasm, squeezing that dildo rhythmically as her desire for Lacy combined with the continued rubbing sensation triggered her own orgasm.  She climbed back onto the couch, feeling sleep pull at her.  

They’d already arranged the sectional into a bed shape, stuffies and all, and nestled together they drifted to sleep, content in their own little world.

Christmas bunny has been exploring kink since she was legal to do so.  Her serious writing started in college, where she accidently got some of her papers published in educational journals.  She has recently expanded her writing to include her kink journey.  She began writing in the physical realm, but shed some of her inhibitions and began sharing those entries with others.  She now keeps an active blog of her personal growth and her relationship with her Master / Daddy Dominant and writes helpful educational posts on a variety of subjects.

Erotica: Silly Little Slut

By 2 Comments

sexy sub with knife on throat
via stock.adobe.com

***All works of erotica are based on ficional scenarios. We never condone anything that is not consensual.

I don’t like cats.  Not really.  Except that they kill rodents.

But watching you move with cat-like grace on those impossibly high heels…  Delectable.  Yes, you caught my attention.  Perfect feline fluidity…  You slid up on the bar stool smoothly as you caught my eye.  Maybe I caught yours.  But I also caught your short dress sliding up your lean, finely muscled thighs.

I’m not normally a foot guy, either.  Most women act so proud of their feet when they should be the opposite.  But yours are … perfect.  It’s the arch, of course, but also the proportion.  The mere sight of them incites in my mind’s eye all manner of images of the tender torture I could inflict upon them.  I watched, entranced almost, as you let one shoe slide off, half-way, letting it dangle provocatively, pretending it was an accident. 

I sent the barman over to you with an offer of a drink.  You waved your hand at him from side to side, palm up.

“No, thank you.”

And then you turned to face me.  And uncrossed your legs.  And flashed me … a smile, too.  A winsome smile, telling me without words that no, you weren’t wearing any panties under your sheer pantyhose, as if you hadn’t shown me that fact already.  Silently you asked with your sparkling eyes, “What are you going to do to me?”

You had a different meaning for that sentence than mine, I’m sure.  Much different.

I made a move to walk over to you, and again with the hand.  A silent “no, don’t.”  I sat back down.  And still you continued your show.

Your cock-teasing continued the effect you expected.  My jeans tightened as the swelling increased.

Silly little slut…

No one else seemed to want to make an advance on you.  For me, it was a private show in public.  For them…  It was as if they had all seen your show before, and knew it for the cotton-candy cock-teasing that you intended.  All sugar; no spice.  Plenty of appetizer, but no entree.

A few more minutes and you watched me leave.  I’d had enough.  You seemed … disappointed.

What you didn’t know was what would happen later.

When you have no one else to tease, you’ll slither off the bar stool, perhaps letting your dress ride up to your hard, perfect cheerleader ass.  Maybe not that high, but you’ll make sure to give the room an accidentally-on-purpose exhibition.  You’ll slide your delicious feet back into your come-fuck-me pumps and give the room one last display of your sensuous feline stride.

And being you, you’ll head to the parking garage after checking all around to see if you’ve put anyone over the top.  Then, click-clicking along in your heels, you’ll make your way to your car.  You won’t notice the van parked a few spaces away; you never do.  But your pace won’t slow as you click-click-click along the concrete garage floor, racing to the safety of your car.

A few steps from that serene automotive cocoon, you’ll feel the leather glove over your mouth, and you’ll smell the leather too, because my hand over your mouth will also cover your cute little nose, stifling your screams into frightened whimpers and pulling you by your head back against my chest.

Then you’ll feel the other glove, sliding fast and hard up your delicately athletic thigh, sliding your dress up and cupping your pussy as I lift you off the garage floor and carry you squirming and flailing into the van.  When the van door slides shut, you’ll know what awaits you.  You’ll fight harder, but have no chance; you’re nowhere near a match for me physically.  And when I place you face-down into the pile of sheets laid there just for you, pressing your pretty face into the linen to silence you as I straddle your head, you’ll know you’ve lost–and that *no one* is coming to save you. 

When your arms are tightly bound behind you–with bondage tape the first time, but after that, you’ll experience the tight sensation of rope and straps–I’ll stuff your mouth full of cloth and then seal it with more tape.  Then still more tape to cover your eyes, and finally viciously tight wraps of tape around your trim, delicate ankles.

I’m sure you’ll squirm and fight even after you’re hopelessly bound–thrashing wildly on the hard van floor as I run my hands up and down your legs, playing with your perfect ass, probably even after I slap your ass hard several times as a warning.  When I rip your pantyhose open and slide my fingers inside to moisten you, you’ll be relieved.  You’ll take silent solace in the fact that at least I’ll be using your cunt.  And when I mount you, you’ll realize you were wrong.

And then I’ll whisper into your ear, as you twist and squirm under me in a futile effort to escape, the first words you’ll hear from me.

“Don’t worry, slut.  You’ll get it there, too, deep in your tight little quim, before I’m finished.  And if you’re a good little cunt, I’ll fuck your pretty face, too.  But not here.  Somewhere else.  It’s going to be a *long* weekend.  There’ll be *plenty* of time…”

I won’t tell you, though, while I’m raping all your openings, that when we’re finished, I’ll tie you up tighter than ever, making sure everything is as uncomfortable as possible.  I’ll drive you back to your car, reveling in your pathetic struggles to get free, and bind you securely in the driver’s seat with all your shredded clothes lying in the passenger seat, your eye-catching high-heeled pumps lying outside the driver’s door.  Then I’ll lock your car door and set the alarm and throw away your keys, all so the Monday-morning commuters can see you, imprisoned in your car, praying for and dreading your rescue.

And how can I be so certain of all this?

I’ve been watching you for a *very* long time…

Thanks for reading.  If you’d like to read (complete, non-serialized) stories I’ve written, please come visit: https://tinyurl.com/yycvsgr6

I’ve been writing erotica–niche adult fantasy (C/NC and N/C)–for the enjoyment of my readers for a number of years.  My greatest reward comes from knowing the pleasure my words bring to my readers.  If you want to let me know how you liked this story, feel free to drop me a line here: j.s.phoenix.1975@gmail.com

Erotica: Piggie Tails

By 2 Comments

dominant man and beautiful submissive in car
via stock.adobe.com

*all works of erotica are based on fictional scenarios. We never condone anything that is not consensual.

I am nervous Sir.  More nervous than I can remember ever being.  I’ve been stressed about this since I brought it up.  I know you can see it and I appreciate that you have let me deal with this on my own.  

I’m sitting, perched on the end of my bed, getting ready. For you.

Slowly, I slide my stockings up–over my foot, past my knee, to finally let then settle on my thigh.  First the left, then the right.  I carefully make sure the line in back is straight.  These are your favorites Sir.  I wanted this to be special.

Next comes the garter belt.  I am not sure I will ever master the ability to hook the stockings on the first try.  I love the look of the black lace.  I leave off the matching undies.  I know you have no use for them, especially when I have shaved.

Now, I am slipping on the black lace dress.  It is the off the shoulder one that is skin-tight.  I have seen the look in your eye when I wear it.  

My hair is braided, so you can grab it easier.  I am unsure how tonight will go, so I am trying to anticipate your desires.

Red lipstick is next.  I have a feeling it will be smeared before the night is up.

Now comes the hard part.

I am watching the clock.  I asked for a half hour to get ready for you.  You said you wanted to be surprised.  I want this to meet your extremely high expectations, Sir.

I open the dresser drawer and for just a moment, my breath hitches.  Lying there is the pink piggie tail.  It is not the largest plug we’ve ever played with, but not the smallest.  It’s the eight inches of curl that I keep staring at.  

Am I ready for this?

I reverently take it from the box.  I put the box back into the drawer and close it with a click.  I can feel the weight of the tail in my palm.  I close my eyes briefly, just feeling the silicone.

I can do this. 

I want this.

I need this.

I tighten my fist around the plug and head into the bathroom.  I grab the lube from the vanity and move back into the bedroom to get more comfortable.  I lube it liberally, bend my leg to give me more room, and move it to my ass.

I feel the pressure against my hole.  It gives little with the first push.  But with a second, third, even fourth push, it is slowly going inside.  I won’t stretch myself beyond what the tail does.  Because you like when I feel the burn.  You like that I am going to be reminded for a couple of days about this.  You know it’s going to take one look from you and I’m going to be fidgety, and sore, and embarrassed.

And you love it.

I take my time.  I’ve still got fifteen, of my half hour, left and you would be very displeased if I damaged myself.

Five agonizing minutes later and it finally pops fully past the muscle ring and suddenly I feel very full.  I can feel it shifting, ever so slightly.

I wipe the remaining lube off my hand with a towel and move to get up.  I roll from the bed, down to my knees.  

Did you know that an eight-inch tail bounces, Sir?

I forgot.

There are jolts of pleasure going up my spine now.  I take a few breaths to calm myself.

I crawl back over to the dresser and hidden in a bottom drawer is the rest of my attire.

First comes the piggie ears.  They are soft Sir.  And honestly, not much different than cat ears.  

Last, but certainly not least, is the hardest part.  The silicone piggie nose.  This one fucks with my head.  Years of torment flash through my mind as I stare down at the nose.

Five minutes.

Only a few more minutes before I am to text you and have you come downstairs to our playroom.

Four minutes.

I think I have forgotten how to breath.  

Three minutes.

This shouldn’t be this hard.

Two minutes.

I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and fasten the nose in place.

One minute.

I grab my leather collar from my drawer.  I need this today.  I need the absolute, unquestioning submission that comes with this collar.  

It’s time.

I place the O-ring between my teeth and crawl over to the door.  Today, I will be waiting for you on all fours.  I keep my collar between my teeth because piggies don’t have hands, Sir.

Just before I set my phone aside, I let you know it’s time.

The silence is all consuming as I wait.

Normally, I can hear you coming.  But it isn’t until the door snicks open than I realize you’ve arrived.

My anxiety has my body taunt.  I’m nervous again.

This has come so far from where we started.  I’m afraid I will scare you away.  I’m afraid you’ll be disgusted.  I’m afraid you’ll mock me.  I’m afraid that despite your reassurances, this isn’t something you really ever wanted.

And then, you step up to me, your leather boots just inside my eyes sight and say, “There’s my good little piggie.”

And in that instant, I’m calm. I’m yours. 

I can finally breathe.  

Your boots leave my sight as you walk around me.  I can only imagine you are committing every inch of me to memory.  I am embarrassed.  But I know better than to move.

I hear you snap.  My eyes stay down but I turn towards the sound.  A full one eighty and I crawl forward until your boots come back into view.

“Kneel up.”

I move onto my knees and am quickly reminded about the tail in me.  Every movement has my insides clenching.  The longer I have the tail in, the more I am reminded of how empty my cunt is.

This is going to be a test of self-control.

I am startled out of my thoughts when you hand comes to rest on the back of my neck.  The warmth has my eyes sliding closed.  I love your touch.  

You work the clasp of my chainmaille collar easily and slide it from my neck.  I hear you place it on the nightstand.  It will be an easy find when we are finished.

You grasp the leather collar and I let the O-ring go.  I feel it snug against my neck and instead of clasping it, you pull it tight, choking me.  

Then game has begun.

You close the clasp and that your fingers lift my chin until I am looking you in the eye.  Its so hard to meet your eyes Sir.  Your forehead rests against mine.  

“Too tight?” you ask.

I go to shake my head, but you stop me.  “No, Sir.”  

“Good little piggie.”  You smirk, ever so slightly.  You wrap my braid around your hand and pull my head back.  “Tonight, we are going to do something different.  Piggies do not talk.  So, tonight, you will not either.  This ends when my piggie oinks.  And only when my piggie oinks.  Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir.  This ends when piggie oinks”

“Good Girl.”

With that, you stood and started walking, your hand still in my hair.  I crawled after you as fast as I could.  You held me in place when we got to an open space.

“Stay still, head up.”

It is odd to hear you give so much direction Sir.  Normally, I only hear the rhythm of your breathing and the occasional growl.  

You are still out of my sight.  Then I see it.  A flash.  

You are taking pictures.

I bite my lip.  I do not want to share this humiliation with anyone else Sir.  I contemplate, for a split second, of ending this.  

Then I feel shame.  We have done so much worse than taking pictures.  If I can trust you to keep my confidence, I can trust you with this.

Time flows differently in this headspace.  I do not know how long you took pictures.  I think you are taking your sweet time just to fuck with me.  You know how uncomfortable I am.  You know I am more in my head during this than I ever have been before.  

You are at my eye level again.  Your camera is right in front of me.  I know you want me to look at the camera.  You want to capture my shame.  No, that’s not completely right.  You want to capture me at my dirtiest.  You want a souvenir; of the things I only allow you to see and do.

The flash is bright in the dark room.  It makes me blink.  It is continuous.  I am losing count of the pictures.  I can hear the clicks.  Every time my head drops, the toe of your boot comes up under my chin to bring it back up.  The third time I drop my chin, I assume you have grown tired of correcting me.  Instead of your boot meeting my chin, it comes up to my shoulder and pushes me back.  My hands lift from the ground and I’m back on my haunches, looking up at you.  

Your boot is on my chest, and the pressure is tremendous.  I am pushing back against you.  Dressed as a piggie or not, I won’t go down without a fight Sir.  My thighs are burning with trying to support my weight and not bend under yours.  

I hear you chuckle.  You are getting such pleasure out of my fight.  I think you are waiting for me to break.  We both know you haven’t pushed me far enough yet.

My hands move swiftly from my side and grasp the underside of your boot, successfully separating it from my chest.

Is that all you have, Sir?

I must focus, Sir.  Did you know that there is apparently less than eight inches from my ass to the ground in this position?  The more you push me back, the more my tail shifts.  My body keeps clenching.  It splits my attention enough for my hands to slip.  Next thing I know, I’m on my back, staring up at you.  I quickly roll to my side.  Without a word, your boot is on my cheek.

“Its not nice to try and run little piggie.”  You chuckle.

Then I feel it.

One quick tap to my ass.  

It’s the cane.

Thwack. Thwack.

There is no warm-up.  I guess that is what I get for fighting back.  

Thwack.

God Dammit, this hurts.  I grit my teeth and breathe through it.  I am waiting Sir.  Waiting for you to shift just enough that I can shimmy away.  As if sensing my desires, you step back.

“Face down piggie, ass in the air.  I want a clear view as I redden it.”

I take just a moment to push myself up onto all fours.  

I crawl forward in front of you, giving you more room to maneuver.  Then I turned and crawled down the hallway, as fast as I could from you.  Logically, I know you will catch me Sir.  But, I am going to make you work for it.

I do not think I made it more than fifteen feet from you before you yanked my braid.  

“Bad piggie.”

You pull me entirely back by my hair until I am flipped onto my back.  You stepped on me, grinding the heel into my pierced nipple.  I feel the piercing catch between the rubber.  It hurts.  Oh god, does it hurt.  

I hear the cane hit the linoleum beyond my head.  It takes my attention just enough for you to change position.  You drop down to straddle my waist.  My hands come up to your thighs and I try to push you back.  

Without a second thought, your hand is on my throat and I can feel you squeeze.  It drives the fight from me.  It is unfair of you Sir.  You ease the pressure enough for me to gasp in a breath, but your hand stays curved around my throat.

My eyes are wide, and my chest is heaving.  The tail is uncomfortable, it tugs and every time I try to move my hips, it sends jolts of pleasure up my spine.  

Damn you.  Damn you Sir for indulging me.

Thirty seconds.  That is all the breathing you allow before you tighten your grip again.  This time your other hand covers my mouth and nose.  You lean your head down to rest your lips against the hand over mine and stare me down.  

This is the most intense I’ve ever seen you Sir.  There is no question in my mind you’ve started letting the Dragon take control.

You let go as I start to see the black edging into my vision.  I’m panicking.  I get three full breaths in before you resume suffocating me.  My chest feels tight.  My hand is frantically tapping at your pants.  I am wiggling as much as I can, but you have me effectively pinned.

Again.  You let me take a couple breaths.  And again, you go until the blackness edges in.

Three times you do this.  Because I always tell you things must happen in threes.  So shows your kindness to my OCD.

Finally, you let me breathe.  You grab and hold my wrists.  

“Look at me.”

Try as I might, I’m struggling to meet your eyes.  I’m quite dazed Sir.  I feel very floaty and it hurts to meet your gaze.  Little piggie is rapidly becoming sensitive and cold Sir.  It is getting hard to focus.

I need grounding, Sir.

You stand above me, and I can only assume you backed up because you are now out of my sight.  

“Come here piggie.  Come to Master.”

My eyes slide closed and with my chest still heaving, I roll over to get on all fours.  Slowly, I get onto all fours and turn around.  I crawl down the hall until I am staring down at your boots.  They are comforting.

“You’ve been so good piggie.”  Your hand rests on my head and I can feel your nails scratching me.  “But still so shy.”

My body burns as I listen to you make snorting noises under your breath.  You are needling it home, Sir.  

“I think we are going to go for a walk.”

No.

That is what I want to scream at you.  But I find myself speechless.  You wouldn’t do that, would you?  Please Sir.  Please don’t do this.

I feel the tug on my O-Ring and suddenly I am aware of the weight of the metal leash.  My chest is constricting with panic.  This, this is about humiliation.  I am not a pet Sir.  Please don’t make me do this.

I fell you reach down to the hem of my dress and start pulling it upward.  “Piggies don’t wear clothes.”  You pull it over my head and then readjust my ears afterward.

You stand and tug on the leash.

“Be a good little piggie.”  How desperately I want to hear that.  And how desperately I do not want to do this.

Almost mechanically, I crawl forward.  

You won’t open the door.  You can’t.

A few more feet and my knees hit the cold linoleum.  I hear the chain lock slide out of place.  You tug me over to your left side, just out of the door’s path.  Then the lock on the knob is turned.  I cannot look.  I want to believe you are just fucking with me.  But I know you.  If you want this, it will happen.

Then the cold air hits me and the light becomes too bright as the door drags open.  There is just a shoulder high concrete wall that conceals me from the world.  You step out onto the concrete and the tug on my leash leaves no question that I am to follow.

Please Sir.  Please don’t do this.

I hear you in my head.  All I have to do is oink.  This all ends when I oink.  But the word is stuck in my throat.  

My knees hit the concrete.  It is cold and rough on my knees.  I know it will tear the stockings before we are done.

I hit the first step and then the second.  There are only eight.  In no time, I will be naked and visible to everyone.  I am torn.  My mind is racing a mile a minute.  I want to be good.  I want you to be proud and show me off.  I want to do anything you ask.

But I cannot do this, Sir.

Not yet.

Please.

“Oink.”

I sob the word out and, in a heartbeat, you are sitting and holding me.  I’m so sorry Sir.  I am so sorry.  I feel such shame that I cannot do this for you.  

“Shh.  You did well.  There is no need to apologize.”  You calmly unhook the leash and prompt me inside.  You shut the door behind us and lock it back up.  You settle onto the floor and pull my head into your lap.  You remove my ears and the nose.  You run your fingers through my hair and just let me be.  

I am so upset with myself.  I have failed you Sir.  

Once the tears start to calm, I am hesitant to open my eyes.  I do not wish to see disappointment in your eyes.  Yet, I cannot help but search you out.  

I look up and hesitantly meet your eyes.  I see you smiling down at me.  I cannot fathom why.  

I must have been easy to read Sir.  “I am so proud of you.”

Why?  Why would you be proud of me for ending a scene?  Why would you be proud of me for letting the fear win?  I can only stare at you.  I do not even know how to articulate the rhetoric in my head.

“I am proud of you.”

I realize, in that moment, that we will discuss this later.  Right now, what matters, is taking care of me.

Soon, you will give me kisses and remind me that you love me.  Then you will stand and let me kiss your boots as I thank you, piggie tail still in place.  Tomorrow, you will ask me to write about the experience; to tell you what happened and why.  Right now, though, you will hold me until you are sure I am ok…all while plotting just how we can push this farther next time.

Let me tell you now, I look forward to your creativity the next time your little piggie comes to visit.

My name is Joji.  I am 29 years old currently and I have been in and around the kink community about 15 years.I am a collared submissive to Magick42.  I am also a Daddy to a wonderful babygirl, and have been for more than three years now and I find it very fulfilling.  I am being mentored in and being taught electroplay.  I am a masochist at heart and thoroughly love impact play, especially caning.  I enjoy reading anything I can get my hands on and am a die hard Harry Potter and Doctor Who fan.  I am also the secretary for a group in Idaho called Moscow S.P.A.R.K.E (Simply Providing Another Route to Kink Education).  It is our mission to teach safe practices to those new to the community and give them a safe haven to ask questions and learn without judgement.  We accept all kinks and all we ask in return is respect between all our members.

Erotica: Alex And Her Master-Chapter 4-An N/C Fantasy

By 2 Comments

sexy Dom and sub kissing, pet play
via stock.adobe.com

**all pieces of erotica are based on fictional scenarios. We never condone anything that is NOT consensual, sane, or safe.

Click here to read Chapter 3!

From last time: 

He carried her inside.  Alex tried to see around her, but the way she was carried, just about all she could see was the stone floor, and then the carpet as they moved deeper into the house.  Down a flight of stairs they went, into a dark room.  Twisting, turning, through several doorways he walked, until he reached a particular door.  He set Alex on her feet, leaning her against the wall.

“Can you stand now?”

Alex nodded.

He reached through the doorway and pulled a chain dangling from the ceiling; the clicking switch triggered a light.  Alex looked down and saw a small cuff, linked to a heavy chain.

“No…  Please…” she begged.  “Don’t do this…  Please!” she wailed.

Instead of telling her to shut up, or worse, he simply picked Alex up and set her on the floor, locking the soft leather cuff snugly around her right ankle.

Alex began crying.

“Gccckkh!”

The man stuffed a penis-shaped gag in her mouth.  When Alex parted her lips instinctively, he pressed it home until the ball-part of the gag popped past her teeth.  He buckled the straps tightly at the base of her neck, tugging the gag deeper as Alex choked and gurgled.

“I told you to shut up, girl.  So you get a gag.”

Pulling Alex back a couple of feet from the door as she fought the gag, trying futilely to dislodge it with her tongue, he laughed softly.

“And now you can have the hood, too.”

Alex sputtered and gurgled.  The elasticized fabric slid over her head and constricted around her throat.

“Just hold still, and breathe calmly.  You’ll be all right.”

Certain that she would be anything but all right, Alex sobbed and wailed as she heard the light-switch click again, and the door to the closet close with an ominous click of its own.

Alex had no idea how much time passed before the racking sobs subsided.  Coughing and choking around the gag because of her unfettered crying, she finally regained control.  The closet, dark and musty, surrounded her.  She wondered how she would ever escape captivity.  Finally, she decided to roll onto her side, even though she couldn’t see anything.  She landed without any extra pain, relieved at what suddenly seemed great fortune.

And after a time, she remembered her bonds.  It had been so long since she could move her arms, she had forgotten even to try.  A few twists and squirms, all of which tugged hard at the knotted crotch-rope buried deep in her wet folds, gave her the answer: no escape possible…

So she waited.  And waited.  And waited.

Torrents of her own drool rolled from her lips, uncontrollably.  The hood only made things worse, as it kept the wetness against her lips, cheeks, and chin.  For a time she tried to slurp her saliva back in around the gag, finally deciding that the cure was worse than the disease.  Hoping to sit back up so that the drooling would be diminished, she abandoned all hope when she realized she couldn’t do it.  Suddenly, having rolled over seemed a very bad idea…

And then…  Footsteps.

Alex mewed pathetically.  She didn’t even care if it was her captor whom she heard: she needed attention.

The door opened and the chain clicked.  Alex’s hood still blocked almost all light.

“Ready to behave, slave?”

Alex nodded.  The hood came off in a rapid tug and the light glared into her eyes: Alex squinted at the sudden change.

He lifted her up to a sitting position.  She felt the ropes fall away as the unseen knife-blade sliced through them.  Alex whimpered as her arms moved forward, the circulation returning fully.  Her arms and fingers tingled slightly.

“If you promise to behave, the gag will come out, too…”

Before he could speak further, Alex nodded furiously, drool flying from her lips, dripping on her bulging breasts.  Without a word, he pushed her head down toward her knees, as if to make her bow in her seated position on the floor, pressing her breasts against her thighs.  The buckle came open, and the gag came out with some difficulty; Alex slobbered uncontrollably over her boobs.

Taking her by her hair, he pulled her back to an erect sitting position, then pulled her head back so she had no choice but to look at him.

“Move your arms, slave.”

“Why are you calling me slave?” she croaked.

He raised his hand as if to slap her face with his knuckles.  Alex cringed and whimpered in fear.

“That’s your one and only warning, slave.  That’s your new name.  Get used to it.  Fast!”

Alex cowered as she nodded her compliance.

“Please don’t hit me,” she whispered, her head turning away as the words trickled out.

Her captor seized her face by the jaw in a single powerful hand, yanking her head up so that she looked at him.

“Speak when I speak to you.  Or you may ask permission to speak.  In any other situation, keep our mouth shut, slave.  Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I understand.”

The slap was not so hard as it was shocking.  Alex, her head leaning away, still turned her eyes to look up at him.  Her eyes asked the question silently.

“I hit you, and far from hard, slave, because you will address me as Master.  If I give you a command, your only answer is ‘Yes, Master.’  Understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“And you will do exactly as I say at all times.  Your only questions will be for clarification when you don’t understand an order.”

“Yes, Master.  I understand.”

Alex’s mind raced as she heard the words to which she agreed.  She tried to tell herself it was only survival.  She wanted to live, and she wanted to escape.  At the same time, she dreaded being locked in the closet again, yet somehow, when she considered it deeply, she wondered if it would be all that bad, as long as he didn’t tie her up so tightly.

She noticed then that she was still wet between her legs.


To be continued…

I’ve been writing erotica–niche adult fantasy (C/NC and N/C)–for the enjoyment of my readers for a number of years.  My greatest reward comes from knowing the pleasure my words bring to my readers.  If you want to let me know how you liked this story, feel free to drop me a line here: j.s.phoenix.1975@gmail.com

Please also visit me at: https://tinyurl.com/yycvsgr6

Saturday Errands

By 2 Comments

sexy male Dominant with wooden paddle
via stock.adobe.com

“Dress and a thong, I love summer” was my flirty status update. One of my followers posted a “love” and sent a DM asking where he could see me in a dress. I flicked up a body selfie of the yellow sundress taken for maximum cleavage exposure. My G cups stretched the cotton bodice, the slightest erect nipple was on show. Gawd, I’m so glad lace bras were back in vogue, was my tag line. Padded bras are too warm in summer. I was horny and in the mood for adventure. Sundresses and wedge heeled sandals made me feel beautiful and sexy. Saturday morning groceries and the wind under my skirt intensified my sexual hunger.  Yes, a man buying fresh veg was a turn on. I was hunting, I wanted to consume, to fuck. 

It was errand day. I brought the groceries home and was putting them away before heading to town for lunch and a little shopping. I heard the screen door bang in the wind. My ex-husband walked in. I was bent over, my head in the cupboard and ass in the air. “Did you need anything done before I take the girls?” he asked.

I thought, “well, me?” but figured I’d prefer something a little less vanilla than sex with the ex. I stood up and flattened the front of my dress. “No, thanks, I appreciate the offer,” I said casually hugging him, “I’m good, I got my running around done, so I am going to do a bit of shopping this afternoon.”

The slow build to summer seemed to mirror my need for sexual satisfaction. Today, I would see if “FORyou71” really was willing to be with me on any terms. I fired him a message. I will be in the department store café at 3:30. You know what I am wearing. Find me and you can have me.

I was pretty ballsy when it came to hooking up, but I did do a double-take before hitting send. He was fun to flirt with, but it seemed like he wanted a dating situation. I did not.  Most guys I meet, do, and forget. I enjoyed the foreplay, he was flirty, but unsure. This was his one and only shot. I am comfortable with my sexuality and confident in my ability. When I started talking to FOR, a few months ago, I made it quite clear that my rules were simple: I used a safety, condoms, and no pictures.

I’m slutty not stupid. My best friend is my safety.  I message Gretta and tell what I am up to. Specifically, I was off to the Department store for coffee and a fuck. I shared the name and profile I was meeting as well as his cell number. I gave her the details of the meet. Standard procedure was a text if he showed, another if we made it through coffee and a check-in during or after depending on how it went. I told Gretta I would message if it was a go and check in around 4. 

I’ll be there. Was all he replied. Straight and to the point. 

I quip back, Excellent.

I reapplied my lipstick and was inspired to accessorize for my outing. I have the cutest anal plug. It’s gold with the prettiest blue stone. I tucked the edge of my dress into my cleavage. I take a moment to massage the lube onto three fingers. I slide my index finger under my thong between my lips and over my asshole. I resist the urge to masturbate, but I do give my vagina a quick inspection, it’s wet already. With my thumb and middle fingers, I cover the plug with the lube. Air from the AC unit is cool on my bare ass. I place my foot on the bathroom counter. I am open and ache to cum. My clit tingles and I flex my muscles in pleasure, bend my knees to spread my cheeks, and place the cool tip to my asshole. My breath is ragged in anticipation. I push it in and my ass sucks in into place. It feels so good I can hardly contain my urge to fuck. I use my muscles to increase my wetness, my breath is shallow, and I slide two fingers in and pump, I am slick as I feel my nipples tighten. I am so ready to fuck. I suck my taste from my fingers and watch myself in the mirror imaging him watching me as I am now. After washing and drying my hands I take my dress from my cleavage straighten my skirt and put my blue sapphire pendant and earring on. I do love when things match.

In final preparation, I moisturize my arms and legs and put my shoes on. I text FOR and ask him if he is in town. His reply is a picture of a sandwich and a beer. I know he likes the pub near the Department store. I keep promising to try the tomato bisque and gourmet grill cheese. 

I hope there aren’t any onions on that, I reply. 

I’ll see you soon, is his response.

I can barely contain myself. The nerves of youth are replaced with the rush of anticipation fused with my desire to consume him. The thrill of new electrified with the fear of getting caught is almost too much to bear as I drive. My window is down, and the wind whips my hair around. I turn up the radio and sing along. I have plenty of time to do some shopping before we meet. 

I take advantage of the fine weather and park on the top floor of the parking garage. No one parks outside on days like today, I have the roof to myself. I throw a blanket over the hood of the car, put my feet on the wall, and lie back for a few minutes, letting my skin bake in the early summer sun. I hike my skirt up to my thighs, skimming my panties. The sun is intense, my skin warms quickly. A message notice requires me to sit up. I put my feet on the ground and rise, my dress falls in place. Gretta is checking in. I confirm where I am and my need to proceed. Her complete support of my sexual exploits is so special to me. She doesn’t judge, she celebrates my sexuality and joy in my conquests. She offers counsel when I ask, and I heed her advice when it is offered.

The elevator is cool as my eyes adjust to the artificial lighting. I attempt to be purposeful in my shopping. New sheets for my bed and new bath towels are the main purpose of the Department store visit. The store is buzzing with shoppers, the displays are cheesy and cheerful, sand pails and bathing suits highlight the hope for the season. I finger and caress the various thread counts and squish the pile of the towel. Thin towels are better in summer, a cotton-blend stays softer when dried outside. But when 100% cotton is line-dried the towels are stiffer and rough on sun-kissed skin. I love how the coarseness softens as the towel wicks the moisture from my body. I am lost in the smells and sensations my imagination provides. I take a half dozen towels and a set of sheets to the cash. Completing the purchase is automatic. I window shop the new sandals, and swimsuits mentally planning a week at the beach. I check the time on my phone as I bring my shopping back to the car. My stomach rumbles as a reminder that I haven’t eaten since six. I make my way to the food-court. I love people watching as I nibble on a scone and sip an iced tea. I flip between reading the news and texting with my kids. Trying to pick a week to book a cottage for us to go away. If we don’t book soon, I will have to be content with camping. That’s a bit more effort than I feel like making this year. I halt our conversation with, I want the 3 of you to decide a date by tomorrow morning, I have told you when I am willing to go.

A brunette catches my eye, she’s late thirties with a French braid, but not just a French braid a flawless, meticulously proportioned French braid. That hair contrast with her cliché Boho suburban mom look. Cut-off jean and layers of tank tops with high heel sandals made her just interesting enough to hold my attention. She is not comfortable in her own skin, she is fidgeting and looking around, trying so hard to be casual. Oh, I would love to have her fidget and twist for me. Twist and moan in pleasure. She looks like a Sally or Sara. I can envision her restrained and blindfolded, wispy pieces of hair stuck to her forehead with sweat from our sexual encounter. Her tiny tits aching for attention, nipples erect from her excitement. Her hips rising and falling with my touch and I awaken her sex, delicate finger fondle and flick her clitoris until she begins to writhe. 

Christ, I’m wet just thinking about her. I check my phone. I have to leave Sally on the bed, I’ll revisit her when I have time. My clit is aching from my fantasy. I go to the ladies’ washroom and freshen up. The plug always feels weird when I have to pee, but the intensity it adds to fucking is worth that moment of awkwardness. As I wash my hands, I wonder if I should retrain my hair in a braid. I opt to leave it down and loose. Flavored lip balm, not lipstick and it’s time to go for coffee. 

The crowds are starting to thin, children who have missed their naps top the chorus of voices and noises that echo through the mall. The Department store is much more civilized. Piped in music is the order of the day. I slowly make my way through the make-up and perfume counters, touching and smelling, but no applying any product. The restaurant is behind the men’s section. I get an ice water and a coffee; as I am digging for change, the cashier places a wrapped set of cookies on my tray. I walk to the back wall near the exit that leads to the washrooms. With my back to the wall, I face out into the room and place my cell on the table. I sit on the edge of the chair pressing my legs together, squeezing and releasing my muscles. I can feel the dampness of my panties against my bare pussy. I text Gretta and tell her where I am and what I am doing. I smell pine and feel warm breath against my neck. 

“Please be Musemeow?” is whispered in my ear. I have to pull away so I can rotate to see his face. He does not disappoint. I’ve seen his cock and even an entire naked body shot, but not his face. He is bookishly handsome. I can’t restrain my approval. I smile so broadly that my cheeks hurt. I make the motion to rise and greet him, he takes my hand and kisses the inside of a wrist. This intimate gesture throws me for a loop, and I freeze momentarily. 

  I want to say, “who the hell are you?” just to watch his reaction, but I am not willing to lose this encounter. My fetish for sex in public is difficult to satisfy. FOR has been enthusiastic about helping me take this off my bucket list. We exchange niceties and I offer to get him a coffee. 

  He sits across from me. “If only to enjoy you walking away.”

I grab some change and get a coffee for him. I survey the clientele attempting to anticipate the challenges we may have. I sit across from him and he moves his chair so he can be closer to me and he’s back on to the restaurant. I cross my leg and position myself; my feet rest next to his, he is able to easily caress and rub my calf as we chat. The world quickly slips away as I become fixated on the tenor of his voice and the heat that rises from his hand. I sit up and slide close. I want him between my legs. His hand slides under my skirt. I hold my water glass to my lips, sipping and eyeing the restaurant, no one has noticed us. I slide forward and part my legs so he can easily feel my panties. His muscular hands are rough on my freshly shave legs.

  “What have you been up to?” he pauses, his expression is playfully quizzical, “To be wet already? I wasn’t even sure you were going to show. I’m now hard as a rock.” His fingers slip behind the fabric of my panties. I continue to sip water, and my eyes widen with the adrenaline rush. I lay my glass down and hold his eyes. I feel the edge of my dress to ensure the skirt has held its place as far as the rest of the world can’t see. I casually brush non-existent crumbs from my chest, his index finger finds my clit and he starts to flick. 

I can’t hide my reaction and I quickly inhale in response. A purr rises from my throat, my eyes flutter and I grab the edge of the table. I ache to let him fill me, to ride him. Another moan escapes I reach for his face. He retreats from me ever so slightly and licks me from his finger. He impishly states, “I have to go wash my hands.” He starts to leave. 

  “Just a second, I have something for you,” I place a condom in his hand. “I have to do a quick check-in. As he gets up to leave, I send Gretta a quick message. 

All is well, msg u when done and in my car.

I silence my ringer, toss everything into my purse, and zip it closed. I survey the men in the room to ensure no one is about to stand. I slip into the men’s washroom it is clean, but there is a mix of cleaner and stale piss. Years of missing must be soaked into the grout of the tile or something. The squeak of the oversized stall door calls for me to enter. I turn to lock the stall and he is behind me. There is a bag on the floor, if anyone comes in, they will see the bag, rather than our feet. Where did the bag come from, how had I not noticed him carrying it before? Both hands hold and fondle my breasts and he pushed me into the stall door. My nipples are confined in their fabric prison. He maneuvers so that I am between the wall and him. I bite down on my lip to avoid making noise. He inspects my dress to figure out if he can access my tits. I know he won’t be able to have me naked, but he is not convinced. I say nothing and try to draw his attention to get to the fucking. I used my nails through his hair and along his neck. He locks his mouth on to mine and kisses me roughly. I offer firm velvety motions from my tongue; his kisses soften and deepen. His hands move from my neck and around to my ass. 

“The tits and dress stay where they are,” I whisper. We can hear people in the hall. He assesses the space. He squats so his face is at my pussy. I lean back against the wall and hold the grab bar. He goes under my skirt and pushes the wet fabric to the side. He discovers my accessory and murmurs approval, not to be distracted from his mission. He lifts my leg over his shoulder as he moves to his knees. He sucks, licks and nibbles my sex, his tongue is strong, and I feel it enter me. His fingers begin to push against my plug as he consumers my pussy juices. My orgasm builds. Discovering my ass plug is a major turn-on- he increases the frequency and intensity of the motion. I tuck my chin and moan as sweat rolls down my back and I fight the urge to buck and ride his face. He takes my squirming motion as a signal. I hold my breath waiting for him. I had visions of straddling him for a quickie while he sat on the toilet, this is so much more than I had expected. When he comes out from under my dress his glasses are slightly squished and steamed up. I reach to suck my wetness from his lips, I can’t contain my gratitude. 

  “Can I take you from behind?” he asks. 

  I reach up and kiss him only to hear the bathroom door open. I freeze and my eyes bulge. My smile of delight illuminates my face. The adrenaline makes my heart race and my breath quicken. We both resist the urge to laugh. This is the real rush. I cup his penis through the fabric. As I drag fingernails across the fabric, he puts a finger to his lips and smiles. We listen and hear a zipper, he clears his throat and releases his cock, his legs are spread to keep his pants at his hips. Silently, he sheaths his cock in the condom I had given him. He motions for me to turn around, he pulls me back onto his cock as our guest flushes the urinal. His departure is punctuated by the thud of the bathroom door. I exhale heavily and he slaps my ass. I hold the grab bar and grind back onto his cock. He reaches forward and holds me by the hair pounding me as squeaks of ecstasy leave me. My orgasm builds quickly, my back arches and I am dripping in sweat. The crescendo is no more than a dozen slow, deep thrusts, my vagina contracts, cum drips down my leg and I am spent. Time starts again, I grab a handful of toilet tissue to wipe myself. He drops the condom in the trash, takes a handful of paper towels, and leaves. I lock the door, raise my skirt, and sit on the toilet. My head is full of cotton and I can’t form a thought. I pee and compose myself. I take a wipe from my purse, wash my face, and drink from my water bottle. As I walk to the car, I keep stroking and flattening my skirt. I start the car, turn on the AC and send Gretta the text.

Stupendous fuck, pleasantly surprised.

Eve D’Pomme is a college professor and erotic writer. The endless possibilities of human connection motivate Eve’s desires to paint images and make possibilities seem tangible through her writing. Eve has been publishing online for the last year or so and teaching for almost 20 years.

Alex and Her Master: An N/C Fantasy-Chapter 3

By 4 Comments

sexy Dom and sub kissing, pet play
via stock.adobe.com

**all pieces of erotica are based on fictional scenarios. We never condone anything that is NOT consensual, sane, or safe.

Click here to read Chapter 2

From last time: 

“I told you, girl.  Don’t make me punish you.”

His words chilled her to her core; Alex shuddered.

Alex heard the van door close, and then her car starting.  She feared being abandoned in this van … where the hell was she?  More tears came as she realized that even if she could get loose, she almost certainly couldn’t escape.

She heard her car shut down, and then her captor entered the van.

“Car strippers will be here soon.  And in case you’re wondering, I disabled the GPS gear in your car long before I snatched you.”

At that point Alex realized she’d left her cell phone in her desk at work.  Not only did Alex not know where she was, neither did anyone else.  And now she knew there was no way to track her, either.  Alex, paralyzed with fear, sobbed as the van slipped into gear.

“You made it easy for me, you know.  You drive the most desired car in the world for car thieves.  It’ll be stripped down to mere parts by morning.”

Then he said nothing at all.  An interminable silence.

Alex again lost track of time.  The van seemed to travel forever.  Alex wondered whether someone might find her when the van had to be returned.  Then she realized she was grasping at foolish straws.  She realized her captor must have made plans to cover the rest of his tracks.  The van was of no importance.

After this much time, Alex’s mouth had dried out.  The thick gag-wad welded itself to the insides of her cheeks.  She realized, more than anything, she wanted water.  Needed water.  To her relief, the van slowed, turned, and came to a stop.  She heard a garage-door closing.

The minute that it took for him to open the van door and begin removing shipping blankets took years.  Then the safety net and the tie-down straps.  Alex looked up at him, her eyes pleading silently, as he lifted her to a sitting position.

“Mmmm!”

Alex wagged her head upward, extending her chin toward him in a muffled plea to be un-gagged.

“Mmmm!”

“Shut up, girl.”

His hand began working the edges of the first tape strip anyway, despite his stern riposte.  Alex wished he’d simply rip the tape off, until she found out how sticky it was, how much it distressed her soft cheeks to have the tape removed at all, even slowly.

“Hold still.  It’ll go faster that way.”

Alex froze in the hopes that doing so would indeed make things easier.  Finally, after long minutes, the last of the tape came off.  He plucked the gag-wad carefully from Alex’s mouth.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Shut up, girl,” he responded softly.

Alex’s mind reeled.  How could she ask for water if she wasn’t allowed to speak?  Defeated, her head drooped sadly, her eyes staring at her naked lap.

“Look at me.”

Alex raised her head slowly.  Her eyes grew round.

“Drink this,” he said softly, extending a bottle of water.  “And slowly.”

Alex leaned forward despite the discomfort of her ropes.  The water seemed so far away…  The threaded opening touched her tongue, and he poured the contents slowly.  Alex drank carefully, wanting every drop.  When the entire bottle had been consumed, she leaned back.

“Thank you…”

Alex flinched in terror.  She’d spoken…  Fear surged through her instantly.

“You’re welcome,” he said nonchalantly, shocking Alex.  “But keep still, now.  You could scream if you wanted to, and no one would hear you.  You’re miles from anywhere.  But if you piss me off by screaming, or talking without permission, I’ll gag you again.  Do you want that?”

Alex shook her head furiously, her tangled blonde mane waving as her head moved.

Picking her up, he slid her toward the door, seating her on the edge so that her legs hung over, her feet almost touching the floor.  Alex gasped when she saw the knife in his hand, fearing the worst.

“You want me to untie you?  It’ll take forever to undo these knots.  Or do you want me to do it quickly by cutting these ropes away?” he asked rhetorically.  “Now hold still.”

Alex sat perfectly still, watching, her eyes transfixed, as the blade sliced swiftly through the ropes binding her knees.  Then he knelt, holding her trim ankles securely, as he sliced away her ankle-bonds.

“Can you stand?”

Alex nodded and stood.  Then she fell as her freshly unbound legs buckled.  He caught her in his arms.

“Just like I thought…”

Alex yipped in surprise as he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, slapping her ass for punishment.

“I told you: keep quiet!”

He carried her inside.  Alex tried to see around her, but the way she was carried, just about all she could see was the stone floor, and then the carpet as they moved deeper into the house.  Down a flight of stairs they went, into a dark room.  Twisting, turning, through several doorways he walked, until he reached a particular door.  He set Alex on her feet, leaning her against the wall.

“Can you stand now?”

Alex nodded.

He reached through the doorway and pulled a chain dangling from the ceiling; the clicking switch triggered a light.  Alex looked down and saw a small cuff, linked to a heavy chain.

“No…  Please…” she begged.  “Don’t do this…  Please!” she wailed.

To be continued…

Thanks for reading.  If you’d like to read (non-serialized) stories I’ve written, please come visit: https://tinyurl.com/yycvsgr6

I’ve been writing erotica–niche adult fantasy (C/NC and N/C)–for the enjoyment of my readers for a number of years.  My greatest reward comes from knowing the pleasure my words bring to my readers.  If you want to let me know how you liked this story, feel free to drop me a line here: j.s.phoenix.1975@gmail.com

Erotica: The Midan Beating Slave

By 2 Comments

wet woman in white tank top
via stock.adobe.com

“How did the belt whipping you got from Rigio feel?”

Silence.

“Please tell me. Did it feel good?”

Tension in her shoulders, heaving breaths again. She warred within herself between what had been and what now was.

“It’s okay to say that it did feel good, Faesca. It’s not bad to like what your Masters do with you. Not in Mida.”

He gave her a moment to think on that.

“Would you like to have another belt whipping like you got from Rigio?”

She nodded under her arms.

His hand slipped under her arm to draw her from the sofa. “Come here.”

She turned around, feeling small and shaking nervously again. His strong fingers under her chin tilted her face up until she looked at him. She knew so much…and so little.

“It’s okay, Faesca. It is important to tell us you like what we do. If you like it, we do it more. We like to do the things you like to receive. If you want me to give you a nice strapping, you have only to ask,” he concluded, opening firm fingers to softly cup her cheek.

She struggled with acceptance, a single tear sliding out her right eye for such unfamiliar kindness.

“You are allowed pleasure here,” he said, calm with measured earnest. “We require that all things be pleasurable to our love slaves. No one will punish you for liking the things we do. We will prize you all the more.”

He paused, seeing her ease slightly and deciding on a new angle.

“Do you feel a gnawing in your belly? A craving for the pain of the strap? Here?”

His hand massaged just below her belly button.

Blinking, the scared bunny returned, she nodded a tiny nod.

“Do you like the peaceful calm that settles over you after?”

Another nod. How did he know?

“Do you sleep very well?” he asked with a small smile, hand lowering to cup her quim. She stood wider on her knees for him…such a good girl…and gave a more confident nod.

“How often did your former whip you?” he asked, slipping two fingers into her.

“A’mosh every gay,” she whispered so small he barely heard.

“Almost every day?” he repeated for clarity.

One more nod. 

He removed the fingers, judging her to be receptive but not yet in high need.

He held his arms open. “Come here.”

She put herself into his embrace and he held her close and warm. A long moment it was, during which she calmed considerably. He ended the hug, set her back at the half arm’s length.

“Now tell me true. Would you like me to give you a nice long strapping to help you feel that special quiet and sleep well?”

Calm, quiet, with that same adorable blink. “Peash, Masker.”

He kissed her forehead tenderly. “Good girl. As you were over the cushion. Be prepared for me.”

She was much faster this time and he made only one correction, moving her arms off her head. “My aim is true, sweet little Faesca. I will never strike that which I do not want to hit. And I never will want to hit you in the head. Not ever. I promise you.”

On second thought, one more adjustment. He moved her hair clear of her face, wanting to see her expression. And maybe putting her knees a couple inches farther over so he could better see the pink of her puss while she remained tall on her knees. He started lightly, ranging from her shoulders down to her ribs, listening to her gasp, watching her flinch inside her skin. After ten minutes, he stroked a hand over her back. She sucked in a breath, sighing it out long and even. Slipping his other hand down and under to find her clitoris, she was catapulted into a sudden hard climax.

He had not expected it so soon. Nor so easily.

“Very good girl. Would you like a harder beating now?”

“Peash, Masker,” she breathed.

He took her through another quarter hour, increasing his speed and force until she was taking as hard as he wanted of her. Only a moderate force. Not nearly as hard as he would in future days. Not for the first with him. And this time, when he grasped her clitoris, she shrieked and jerked downward in ejaculatory orgasm. 

The beating itself aroused her passions.

He sat on the sofa to watch her recover from the powerful release, thinking he would have to reward Dohan very well. Such a treasure as this was rare indeed. He got himself another serving of wine, smiling into it when his secretary knocked on the door to announce Axlar’s return.

“Your timing is impeccable, brother,” he said, having risen. “I have something to show you.”

Without asking her if she wanted more, Preece began another round. He started as hard as he had ended the previous, quickly working up to smarting ¾ strength thwacks that echoed off the stone walls. She made no sound other than the occasional grunt or sigh. She no longer flinched, rapidly descending into the Beating Slave’s Dream Space. He gave her only five minutes worth, however. A firm squeeze of her clit and her cum jetted from her, running down both thighs in a warm river. No shriek this time. She let out a long, low, grunting groan  and her body shuddered hard.

“Was that your idea or hers?” Axlar asked.

“She requested a strapping after some discussion to get her over her many Murabettan morals and trepidations. She is primed and ready for you and I’ll be back in the morning. I have to reward my slave.”

“What did Doe do?” Axlar asked, helping Peeper to her feet.

“Put his own ass on the line to make me see she’s a beating slave. Not a thing he does often,” Preece replied, watching Peeper swoon so that Axlar was compelled to scoop her up into strong arms.

“I’ll see you tomorrow in Council,” Axe said by way of exit. 

He carried her through the palace to his own chamber and eased her onto the bed. The slightest caress of her thigh and she opened completely to him. So yielding and acquiescent was she that he took her to the limits of her endurance and left her sleeping in his bed while he went to the evening meal. He didn’t leave her for long, however, taking Rainko back with him. Refreshed by the deep nap, she did not protest when the two took turns with straps from the wall. Axlar refrained from introducing her to penile sodomy, instead using a medium sized leather phallus to begin opening her. He and his brother shared her repeatedly, toying with her together, watching as the other used her alone, delighting in the newness of the day’s discovery and learning her responses to many things.

Rainko escorted her to the slave hall and personally put her into her sleeping space. He remained at the opening, a hand resting on her leg until she was asleep. A matter of minutes in her well-fucked, well-beaten state. He went in search of Morcone, finding the Custodian of Thralls in his small office with Echie in bondage on her back over his desk and numerous painful clips in various places over breasts, thighs and labia.

A lovely picture indeed.

“Peeper is to be cared for in the manner of a beating slave from now on.”

“That is rather sudden, Highness,” Morcone replied, having risen from his chair to bow for the Prince.

“Six years in the making, actually. She may be new to Mida’s way of the love slave; but she is an experienced and quite accomplished beating slave.”

“How accomplished?” Morcone had to ask.

“Give her a few months and she’ll equal Orla.”

With that, Prince Rainko went to his own chamber, to Hanar’s waiting flesh. For the first time in months, he was too spent to make use of her, turning over with his back to her to get a sound sleep. And sent her back to the Slave Hall in the gray of early dawn without using her even once.

Excerpt from PEEPER —  https://books2read.com/u/bOxRLK

——-

TylerRose. is known as Dame Tyler in the NYC public SM/Fetish scene. She is an award-winning author who has written two “lifestyle”, four cartoon, and twentysomething fiction books.

Twitter — https://twitter.com/DameTyler or @DameTyler
FB Fan Page — https://www.facebook.com/TylerRoseGethis/

FB Regular page —  https://www.facebook.com/TylerRoseAuthor

Read her books on her Amazon page — https://www.amazon.com/TylerRose./e/B00HCPLSP2

You can also find more of her OP/ED work in Fetlife: https://fetlife.com/users/305828

She enjoys crocheting and baking, and will no doubt die with a thesaurus open on her thigh.

Erotica: The Marionette

By 2 Comments

sexy submissive hair pulling toilet slut
via stock.adobe.com

I need you to leave me.

No, that’s not quite true.  I need you to leave me…broken.

I need you to strip me of my building doubt and fear and bring me back to reality.

It has been a long few months Sir.  I’ve waited patiently from the shelf I’ve been placed on.  A lifeless doll, stationed on the living room bookcase, just watching the world through wooden lids.

Can you see the varnish on my eyes; glossed over and shining with need?  Can you hear the creak of my hinges as I try to reach out to you?  Can you feel the cracks in my body when you hug me?  Can you taste the dust covering my soul when you kiss me?

Probably not.

I am a very good marionette.  I move when you need me to.  I move in and out of your vision when I feel it is necessary to ease your stress levels.

I make a lot of decisions.  My mind moves a mile a minute, but my mouth is stitched shut.  I tug and I tug but the threads are so tight. 

I should be panicking.

But, I’m not.

Because good girls wait for when they are needed.

Isn’t that right Sir?

I am a slow learner, but I know that patience is a cornerstone of self-control.  And self-control is your number one requirement.

So, I wanted to share a story with you.  I want you to close your eyes and dream of breaking me in the most deliciously depraved ways.

Here is what I see:

My eyes are closed.  They have been for ages now.  You put me in the back of your van, told me to keep them shut, and not say a word.  I do not know how long we have been driving.  For all I know, you have been driving in circles just to disorient me.  

Halfway through, you told me to strip.  I am not wearing much.  I never do when you tell me to get ready.  I am so used to being naked for you, clothing seems almost a sin.  There should never be anything that prevents you from seeing or touching any part of me at any time.

Its cold, even inside your van.  I am curled in a ball, my knees at my chest, with my back against the seat.  I am staying out of view.  It would be no fun if the police were to pull us over.

It is taking everything I have Sir not to open my eyes.  My stomach is rolling with motion sickness and my body is disoriented from all the movement.  Yet, I know that’s why you did not blindfold me.  You prefer that I obey through will power and without assistance.  That’s why I know that whatever happens, I am going to have to make sure I stay in the moment.

Thankfully, the van finally stops.  I have not moved.  I am waiting for your instruction.

Mistake number one.

I hear the door open and suddenly my ankle is pulled harshly.  My head drops to the floor and my back burns from the rug.

“Up and Present”

I scramble to follow your voice.  I am hesitant because I cannot see where you are and where I should be.  As I get up on my knees, you have decided I am not moving fast enough.  Your fingers wrap around the chainmaille of my day collar and yank me forward.  You are the only thing holding me up.

“Have you forgotten everything?  Is this what I am stuck with?”

Your words sting.  I keep my face stoic.  You have not given me leave to speak.  But, I right myself and get my balance back.  My hands lock behind my back.  My knees are biting into the grooves in the floor of the van.  The connector bars for the seats are not kind to my shins either.

You lightly smack my cheek.  “Head up.” You command.  Then, without warning, my collar drops from my neck.  My eyes are wide behind the lids.  Now, I am panicking a little bit.  You’ve never removed it without warning before.  Have I upset you Sir?  Are you abandoning me here?  Am I being released?  My chest is heavy and constricted.  What have I done?  Why won’t you talk to me?  Please Sir.  Please, tell me I can speak.  Please.

Thirty seconds.  

Thirty seconds and I have worked myself into a panic.

Thirty seconds and then I feel it.  I feel the smoothness of my leather collar.  I can hear the rings and feel the heaviness against my throat.  I take a deep breath.  I know what is coming next.

Your hands tighten it to its furthest point.  I can see white spots behind my eyelids.  My lips fall open in an ‘O’ and I gasp.  This is about control.  You will release when you are ready, not when I am.

And you do.  As the blood pounds through my head and my head is dizzy in need, you let go.  You buckle it comfortably.  

I’m naked, terrified, and in my TPE collar.

Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you to break me.

Your palm is resting on the top of my head.  I am trying to prepare myself for what I have gotten myself into.  

Ten Seconds.

Twenty seconds.

Thirty seconds.

The silence is long tonight.  It is never a good sign when you are quiet Sir.  It means you are losing yourself in the moment.  That means the dragon you keep leashed inside will be in charge tonight.  I may not survive this.

And so, it begins.

Your hand curls into my hair and I am yanked from the van and thrown to the ground below.  It is soft and cold.  In a split second, your hand is back in my hair and you are half dragging me.  I am trying to crawl fast enough, but I keep stumbling.  Left and right, back and forth, there is no rhyme or reason to where you are taking me.  I feel filthy.  My hands and knees are sinking into the Earth.

Please Sir, let me open my eyes.

I am thrown back to the ground with a disgusted sigh.  I can hear your frustration with me.  I don’t remember the last time I couldn’t keep up with you, step for step.  I’m frustrated with myself and we have only just begun.

I turned my face sideways to lessen the pain on contact.  I figured it out now.

You have me in the mud.  You have me naked, outdoors, in the fucking mud.  I did the first thing that came to mind.  I growled.

I forget how quick you can move Sir.  You had me flipped over and you knelt across my ass, your knee landing on my lower back.  Your hand wrapped in my hair and yanked my head back painfully.  You leaned close to my ear and spoke ever so softly.

“Did you have something to say piggie?”

I growled again.  

You pushed my face into the mud and then pulled me back.

“Good little piggies oink.”

Silence.  

I refuse to give you what you are asking.

Try Me. Push Me. Make Me.

As soon as you let go of my hair, I made a decision.  I bucked my ass up to jostle you and I took off.  Even with my eyes closed, I was determined to put distance between us.  I have no idea if you lost your balance or not.  As quick as I felt your boot to my side, kicking me over, I knew I had not bucked hard enough.

I landed on my back and before I could breathe, your boot was on my neck.  It pressed firmly and I felt myself sinking into the mud.  My hands pushed against your boot without relief.  I knew I had pissed you off.  

“Open your eyes.”  My eyes popped open instantly.  Even in the darkness, it was too bright.  I blinked rapidly and struggled to breathe.  

You are ready to watch me suffer.

You finally lift from my neck and I am gasping for breath.  Your boot meets my cheek and shoves half my face back into the ground and I hear you talking finally.

“Your hands will stay off my leather if you wish to keep them out of play.  Do I make myself clear?”

“yes.”

You push down harder.  “Yes, Sir.”

“Up.”

My breathing is laboured and I am seriously contemplating refusing you.  But, deep down, I cannot bring myself to do so.  

I need this.

I lift myself from the mud.  It is already drying on me.  I can feel it cracking.  I’m on my knees, staring up at you.

You tap my lips and I open obediently, tongue out.  You clip a clothespin to next to my piercing.  You smile so mockingly. “This will help wash you off.”  I glared.  Drool is not a way to wash myself.

“Tonight, we are going to work on your discipline, lil piggie.  Kneel up, off your heels.  Back straight, eyes forward, neck straight.  Lace your fingers behind your head and keep your arms up.  I do not want to hear a sound.”

You walked around me.  I don’t like losing sight of you Sir, especially in such a foreign environment.  I feel your boot nudge my ass.  I rocked ever so slightly, but no sound.

Then, it happened.  I felt a sharp sting.   It hurt.  I was unprepared for this Sir.

Then again.

And again.  There was no warm-up.  You are hitting me as though we have been doing impact for a half hour now.  My body is cold and sensitive.

It hurts.  My knees are shaking.  Holding myself in this position makes it hard to zone out the pain of the hits.

I bet that was your intention.

Six.  I think so anyway.

Seven.  A sob is caught in my throat.

Eight.  I am unsure what it even striking me at this point.  It hurts.  You keep changing the contact point.  

Nine.  The tears are leaking.  I am trying so hard to keep quiet.  I need to please you.

Ten.  That was a particularly vicious hit to my thighs.  I broke.

I fell forward.  My body is hunched over, my back bare.  My hands are in the mud and I am shaking, trying to keep the sobs in.

Silence.

I can hear you breathing.  Even now, it cuts through the sobs.  I am aware of you.

I bring myself back up into position.  Just as you expect.

Its not the falling that disappoints you.  It is the unwillingness to pick myself back up.

I look up at you.  You are blurry through the tears.

Without a word, you take your boot and place it on my chest.  You push.  My body starts bending backwards.  You are saying all you need to without a single word.  If I am going to bend, it will be at your will and your will alone.

I keep balance for as long as I can until I am once again on my back.  Your boot moves and the heel grinds into my nipple piercing.  It feels as though you will rip it from my body.  It hurts to intensely.

My body is twisting, trying to escape you.  Your weight holds me in place.  

Please Sir.  It hurts so bad.

You move to my other piercing.  It burns.  

Please Sir.

Please.

You’ve barely touched me and I feel as though I’ve run a marathon.

I just want your comfort now.

Please Sir.

You move to grind your boot against my sex.  My pelvic bone feels as though it is cracking beneath you.

I’m sobbing again.

But I know how to end this.

I must give myself over to your control again.

You are waiting for me to willingly do so.

I have known what I need to do for a while now.  But my head was set on rebellion.  

After a particularly strong grind, you remove your weight.  Sobbing, covered in mud, and aching fiercely, I curl into a ball.

Brokenly, I end it.

“OINK.”

My name is Joji.  I am 29 years old currently and I have been in and around the kink community about 15 years.I am a collared submissive to Magick42.  I am also a Daddy to a wonderful babygirl, and have been for more than three years now and I find it very fulfilling.  I am being mentored in and being taught electroplay.  I am a masochist at heart and thoroughly love impact play, especially caning.  I enjoy reading anything I can get my hands on and am a die hard Harry Potter and Doctor Who fan.  I am also the secretary for a group in Idaho called Moscow S.P.A.R.K.E (Simply Providing Another Route to Kink Education).  It is our mission to teach safe practices to those new to the community and give them a safe haven to ask questions and learn without judgement.  We accept all kinks and all we ask in return is respect between all our members.

Erotica: The Fight Within

By 2 Comments

hot sexy male submissive with leather harness
via stock.adobe.com

***all pieces of erotica are works of fiction. We never condone anything that is NOT consensual, safe, ethical, or sane.

I need to specify to those reading this, that playing during high emotion can be dangerous.  You can miss verbal/body cues, overlook a safeword, or face the issue of potentially blacking out/disassociating.  

I wrote this to explore parts of my psyche I’ve yet to delve into.  But I also wrote this to someone with whom I trust my life.  

The goal of delving into the darker parts of the mind, is to learn.  There is more revealed in the unconscious mind than in any other medium.  

Even if I never delve into this scenario in person, I will have revealed everything I need to…subconsciously.  Master has told me, on more than one occasion, that my writing gives him insight because I pour myself into it.  It is the same reason he refuses to read unfinished work and offer suggestions.  If he did, it could influence me.

I explore darkness only with someone who can bring me back into the light.  I explore brokenness only with someone who can piece me back together.  I explore emotional fuckery only with someone who will not be crushed beneath the weight of it.

What you choose to do is your decision.  Just know, if you cannot separate what is done in a scene from what happens in real life, your relationship can be irrevocably changed or damaged.

You once told me, Sir, that I push your boundaries unlike anyone else.  

I had to think about that.  At first glance, it looks as though I lack respect for your limits.  But, when we talked about it, you told me it meant I pushed you as you push me.  

We have successfully faced quite a few demons and delved into some dark places.

We have moved seamlessly from physical pain to mental and we continue to push against what is deemed as safe and sane.

We are risk takers Sir.  I’d have it no other way.

With that in mind, I wish to request a new boundary to be explored.

I want you to make me angry Sir.  

I want you to throw me against the proverbial wall and help me bring the bricks down.

I want to feel the thrum of adrenaline and the fire in my veins.  

I want to fight you.  

I want to growl and scream and cry.

I want you to take me down without mercy.

Are you willing to brave this with me Sir?  Are you willing to catch me on the other side as I come down?  Are you willing to help me deal with the guilt when this is done?

Are you willing and able to keep me sane without losing yourself in the process?

We don’t play angry.  We have always refused to play during any heavy influx of emotions. 

Tonight, I want that to change.

Please, Sir?

You are a crafty bastard Sir.  When I asked for an emotionally charged scene, I did not expect you to have me set it up.

You know how much I hate making decisions.

I know you’re fucking with me.  But I also know you want to understand how far to push me.

See, you can read me my body like no other.  But what I choose at the beginning, gives you an idea of how far to go.

I understand it.  I just don’t like it.

I knew the two fastest ways to anger without conflict.

Step one: My song. On repeat.  Seven minutes of mesmerizing lyrics that take me over.

You can see the change in me.  There is a reason I rarely play this song.  It stirs my mind like a woman possessed.  It makes me feel…violent.

Step two: Handcuffs

We both know the cuffs alone will make me fight.  I tried breaking the kitchen chair last time we used them.  

This time, you were smarter.

You locked one wrist in front of me, pulled the chain between my legs, and locked the other one.  Then you pulled the leg irons chain over the cuffs and pulled them down and around the leg of the bedframe.

I am technically free to move within a small area.  With difficulty, I can switch from kneeling to sitting but little else is possible.

You snap your fingers.

I Breathe deeply.  We are about to begin.

You want me immersed.  

I sit down on my ass, my knees bent and my hands loosely hanging.  My top half is bare, and the room is chilly.    My fingers are playing with the soft fabric of my leggings already.  Can you see my anxiety already Sir?  I don’t think I have hidden it very well.

The leg irons pull against my ankles.  I have twisted the chain already, but I refuse to say anything.  I will deal with this.

I look up at you.  I am scared Sir.

For all my bravado, I do not like being angry.  I know that I could hurt someone.  I know that I could hurt you if I sink too far.  I feel very small for asking for this.

You read me so well.  You look deep into my eyes, my lip trembling, and you run your fingers through my hair.  It soothes me.  I close my eyes to revel in it and you backhand me.

We’ve started.

From this point, you won’t let up until you are ready…or I color.

Would that be wrong?  To color on a scene I’ve requested?  

You will tell me that it is not wrong.  And I know for damn sure, we would never be trying this if you didn’t trust me to speak up when needed.

Those thoughts cross my mind all the time.  

So, let’s see what happens Sir.

Are you ready?

I am waiting for the music to start.  

“Are you ready for this?”. You ask only once.

You are giving me an out.

I inhale deeply. I don’t want it.

“Press play” I state firmly.

Without another word, you press play.  I know we have put the song on repeat for the length of the disc.  It will continue to ramp me up until it is turned off.

The headphones are immersion ones.  They close me off from the outside world.  All I can hear is the music.

Then, you leave.

I fucking hate being alone.  I get antsy and worried and scared.  

Forty-five seconds in.  My eyes close of their own volition.

1 and a half minutes in.  I can feel my face contorting into a smirk.

2 minutes.  My lips move unconsciously to mouth the dark words.  You were smart Sir.  By using the instrumental track, with only the backup vocals, I can sink ever so further.  The ability to sing along and keep myself distracted from the emotion is no longer an option.  

My chin drops to my chest.  I roll my neck to one side and slowly to the other.  I can feel the cracking of the bones. 

3 minutes. My heart is pounding. My eyes are open and unseeing.  My head cocks to the side, glaring into the nothingness. 

Four minutes.  Even though I know I shouldn’t, I start rubbing the cuff rings.

The cuffs are cool to my thumbs as I rub the metal.

My thoughts are dark Sir; and sneaky.

We are halfway through the first play of the song.  The bass drum is beating loud.  I am tugging more frantically at my cuffs now.  I feel them pulling against my hands.  

I am going to bruise.

I am watching the door.  I’m determined to be free by the time you come back.  I plan to tackle you.  I’m going to take you to the floor and have you beg me for mercy.

I can do it.  

I smirk.

If not, I will go down fighting.

I was unprepared for the mask Sir.  As soon as the darkness descended, I started bucking.  You appeared from nowhere.

Were you watching me?  Where?  I could not see you.  

Why would you hide Sir?

Are you scared of me?

Won’t you let me free Sir?  

I can do such wondrous things to you.

After all, you cannot see the fire in my eyes with a hood on.

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.

Whatever shall we do Sir?  Won’t you let me out to play?

You have turned the volume up.  I can feel the vibrations across the whole of my ears.  I feel the zipper on the hood open across my mouth.  I strike forward to bite you.

Rule number 2 in our dynamic.  I am never to bite.

I’ve just declared war.

I am pulling roughly at the handcuffs.  If I can shift the bed frame, then you have no chance.

I feel your hand grip the back of my neck, as though you were planning to lift me.  You press my body forward.  Your other palm presses harshly against my mouth and pinches my nose through the hood.  I did not even have a chance to take a breath.  I’m trying to wrestle free.  I can hear the clanking of the metal over the music.  I feel like a feral animal trying to free itself. My head is locked into place by your strength.  

I am going to pass out.

Then, you let me breathe.

Or so I thought.

One big breath is all I managed before you shoved the gag between my teeth.  You made sure I would be able to breathe by picking the ball gag with holes.  But it clearly tells me that talking is out of the question.

Good.

If you want an answer, you are gonna need to read my fucking mind.

Sir.

I feel the chain go slack for a split second.  You must have lifted the corner of the bed.  I pull quickly and round my head in what I believe is your direction.  It connects with something.  I turn the other direction and roll onto my back.  I know I cannot run with the way I am chained.  But I do have enough room to kick you.

I kick out, low to the ground, and my foot connects.  I know instantly I have hit too low.  Your boots hurt quite a bit when kicked with bare feet.  I aim higher but I feel your hand grab my ankles.  My arms are stretched as you hold me tight.

Then the blows start.

A firm smack right onto my ass.  

I hate this position.  I hate having my legs in the air like a baby.  It is humiliating…and you know it.  That is exactly why you do it.

Two. Three. Four.

In such quick succession, I cannot catch my breath or bearings.

Five hits me full force to the top of my pussy.

Fuck.  I guarantee you heard that through the gag.

Six. Seven. Eight.  

Harder and harder you hit my ass.  My body is trying to rock against the floor.  Anything I can do to get free.  I am not fairing so well at that.

Nine is a firm kick to the ass by your boot.

God Dammit.

Ten reigns down on my pussy once more.  Pretty sure I am going to be icing for days at this point.

You drag me by my ankle across the carpet until we meet linoleum.  You roll me over in one smooth motion and use the leverage of the chain to pull my knees up under me.  My ass is now in the air and my face is pressed to the cold floor.  My shoulders are burning, and my wrists are swollen.  I am biting down on the rubber of the gag so hard I am expecting it to split.

I feel a heavy thud against my thighs.  Oh god, not that one.  I hate it.

Five thwacks, each getting harsher and harsher.  The hood is wet now.  It clings to my eyes as they water, and I have soaked the bottom half with my spit.

I keep trying to shift away from the blows.  For a masochist, I move a lot Sir.  Have you ever noticed that?

Five more and I am sobbing.  My legs are shaking to the point that I cannot hold them up anymore.  Then again, as soon as I started to drop them, I felt it.

You finally unsheathed the knife you were hitting me with.

The broad side of the blade is cool against my skin.  I feel its tip at my belly button, with the rest of the length sliding down to my pussy.  It is your warning to keep my position.

And it is my chance to end it.

Not a chance in hell Sir.

Is that all you’ve got?

My legs are trembling.  I feel like I have been at the gym for a couple hours on a treadmill.  I feel the knife sliding against my skin.  I am trying to hold still.  I know there will be marks.  Even the dullest of your knives leave me with welts.  

Ever so slowly, the tip slides down between my legs.  I feel you grab the crotch of my leggings and I feel the sharp tug as you slice them.  The knife leaves my skin for just a moment and I feel your fists shred my clothes the remaining in bit.  I can only feel them clinging to me from my calves to my ankles.  Then the blade is back.  

You are cruel Master.  I am trying to focus on where the blade is at, but the music is distracting me too much.  If I had to guess, knowing the marks it will leave, I am positive you are drawing little smiley faces that I will be staring at in the mirror for the next week.

I am not amused!

But I can imagine the smirk you must be wearing at your own ingenuity.

I feel the tip slide down my thighs and to my calves.  I feel the rest of my leggings fall from my body.

Time is relative in the dark.  I lost count of the amount of times my song has played.  I know my ass stings.  I have no idea how long you have been marking me with that blade.  I know it periodically slides between the lips of my vagina and I hold my breath every time.  I know my jaw aches from the gag and my neck is sore from being on the floor in this position.  My shoulders still burn, and my body shakes from either adrenaline or cold.  Of which I am not entirely sure.

But I want more Sir.

When you have finished with the blade, I feel you give me one last whack with it after you sheathed it and I felt your breath light up the cuts along my backside.

Gently, you pull me up to my knees and let me lean my head against your legs.  The music is turned down until it is a mere whisper.  It stays constant, and I still cannot hear you, but it curbs the adrenaline.

You pick me up to standing but my legs cannot hold me.  So, you leave me kneeling and drag me to wherever you desire me to be.  You bend me over the bed.  It keeps me kneeling but puts the pressure on my abdomen instead of my knees.  I put my forehead against the softer surface.  

Your hand is rubbing my ass.  It feels nice.

Then I feel the cold.  You just dumped ice water down my back, across my ass, and over my legs.  My body tenses instantly.  We both know I do not do well with temperature change.  

This is new.

And then I understand why you turned the music down.

POP

Fuck.

It is the fucking cattle prod.

Yes, it hurts.  But it is the sound that gets me.

Once to the thigh.  It travels with the water as it drips down my skin.

Then you set it off near my ear.  I jumped and thrashed.

Another to the ass.  The knife marks light up with the electricity.

Did you know open wounds increase the intensity of the shocks?  Of course you did.  This is your favorite.  To watch me bend and bow to the lightning.  To watch me shiver from the cold, or is that fear?

One. Two.

POP. This one doesn’t touch me but I can hear it near my face.

Three.

POP.

Four. Five.

POP. This time I hear it behind my neck

Then one long intense one between my legs.  I screamed with that one.

POP. I can hear it again, but I cannot tell where it is coming from.  This time I hear it and it is followed by a smack to my ass.  It must be the belt.  

I cannot hold back the cries anymore.

Smack.

Smack.

POP.

Silence.

Where am I Sir?

I am very, very cold and I cannot open my eyes.

My ears are buzzing but there is no defining sound.  My body is shivering but I feel a warm hand on my stomach and one in my hair.

My heart has slowed.  

My mind is jumbled and dark.  I’m not really sure what is going on.

I don’t know how long it took but my eyes finally flutter open.  It takes several tries.  The room is very bright, even though we have black out curtains up.

I finally open my eyes and I see Master there.  I am laying on my back with my head in his lap.   He is watching me.  He seems worried. 

I see his lips moving but I cannot understand what he is saying.

Everything is a blur, but I can guess what happened.  

I stare up at him with a soft smile.  I am in the safest place right now.

He is waiting for an answer.  

I know the question.

“My name is Joji.”  I see him breathe a little easier. 

He brushes my hair from my face and rubs soft circles on my tummy with his thumb.

“And my name?” The question sounds so soft to me, but I can hear him again.

“Master.”  As I see him smile, I know that we are both going to be fine.

My name is Joji.  I am 29 years old currently and I have been in and around the kink community about 15 years.I am a collared submissive to Magick42.  I am also a Daddy to a wonderful babygirl, and have been for more than three years now and I find it very fulfilling.  I am being mentored in and being taught electroplay.  I am a masochist at heart and thoroughly love impact play, especially caning.  I enjoy reading anything I can get my hands on and am a die hard Harry Potter and Doctor Who fan.  I am also the secretary for a group in Idaho called Moscow S.P.A.R.K.E (Simply Providing Another Route to Kink Education).  It is our mission to teach safe practices to those new to the community and give them a safe haven to ask questions and learn without judgement.  We accept all kinks and all we ask in return is respect between all our members.