The Classy Slut

Harder

2011-01-10T19:23:00.003-06:00

He grabs me by the throat, slams me against the wall.

"Little slut, is that what you like? Tell me how much of a whore you are."

I fervently shake my head, no, no, I won't, I will never admit what I like because I want to be a good girl. But secretly I do want this, I might even need it, and the thought both frightens and arouses me.

Of course my arousal is not something that is going to escape his notice. He slaps me, bringing me back to the present, shaking his head in imitation of mine.

"No? You won't admit what a dirty little slut you are? But why not? You know that I already know, and you already know."

But the embarrassment, the shame in admitting out loud what I want keeps me mute, save for a few incoherent syllables that come out of my mouth. I start to fall a little, my knees growing weak. He notices, and pushes me harder back against the wall.

"I wonder what your pussy has to say about all this. How is it feeling? Does it yearn for my cock?" With a quick motion, his fingers are inside me, feeling around roughly, encountering the clearly evident wetness there. "Looks like some parts of you can't lie, darling."

He catches my eye and forces the contact. I whimper. He lets me go, and I slide to the ground.

"That's right. At the floor, by my feet. Exactly where a worthless little slut like you should be."

Good

2011-01-03T20:24:00.000-06:00

"Have you been a good girl?" he asks me.

I nod. "Yeah."

"Now why don't I believe you when you keep saying that?"

I keep my mouth closed. What is it with dominant characters and rhetorical questions? This time, I have in fact been a "good girl," unfortunately for me, since I do so enjoy being bad. Besides, it doesn't really matter how good or bad I've been. Either one leads to a punishment, and as he says, "you enjoy it that way, Jane." And I do.

I'm standing up, by a wall, in the entrance way of my apartment. He's got one hand squeezing my breasts, and one punctuating his remarks with sharp, quick smacks to my ass. I'm embarrassed to look at him, knowing what he's planning on doing to me, and knowing that I asked for it.

Of course, it is just the kind of embarrassment that I love, the kind that puts those butterflies in my stomach. I'd been waiting for this moment all day, and my panties are proof of that. I keep my eyes downward, until he grabs my face, pulling upwards until I have no choice but to look him in the eye.

"Slut, you want this, don't you?"

Rhetorical or not? I'm guessing not. I nod my head.

"I can't hear your head rattle!" He says firmly, ccompanied by a quick slap to my cheek to make the point.

"Yes, yes I want this, Sir," I manage to whisper.

"Good. Because I can't wait to give it to you."

Thoughts

2010-05-06T18:43:00.000-05:00

"God, this pussy is so wonderful." You whisper, your breath warming my ear.

"I am so lucky that it is mine."

I get even wetter at that comment.

You're fucking me from behind, and as you tease me with the tip of your cock dipping into your wonderful pussy, you squeeze my ass and I squirm. I do so love it when you squeeze my ass. Especially after you have smacked it around a little, or a lot- as the case may be.

"Lucky that this ass is mine."

I close my eyes and relish the feelings, of you inside me, of my warm ass against your body, of your hand by my neck, of your voice whispering dirty, dirty things that make me tingle with anticipation.

Slowly, you push harder, harder, until you are almost all the way in, filling me, making me feel my own wetness. Telling me how much you enjoy when I am so slick that you feel no resistence going in, that I am clearly a little slut who enjoys this so much, I couldn't even try to hide it if I wanted to.

"So lucky that you are mine."

Of course, I don't want to. I want you to take me, to fill me the entire way as you now are, to use me like you do, and when you are done, regardless of my own pleasure, I want to thank you and know that I have served a purpose.

Caught

2009-11-01T18:39:00.003-06:00

You're behind me, and I lean back a little, feeling your warm breath on my neck. You'd just walked into the room, and I'm pulling clothes out of my bag, getting prepared for the weekend. All of a sudden, you grab me and pull me towards you. Next thing I know, my pants are around my knees, my underwear are being pulled down, and your thumb is inside me, your fingers cupping my mound, teasing my clit.

I'm thrilled inside, and nervous outside, because you seem to be in a rough mood. Because all of a sudden I've peaked, and now you're pulling your cock out of your jeans, and pushing my chest down onto the bed, barely missing a beat as you thrust inside me. It's good, I'm noisy, and being able to scream into the comforter is always helpful. My clothes come off, but I barely notice.

I orgasm once or twice positioned like that, before you gruffly tell me to flip over, putting my legs up by your shoulders. You stare at me, and I feel a little slutty being on display like I am. I think you can read my thoughts, because that's what you call me "my slut" before you shudder and finish inside me.

Vignettes

2009-09-20T21:45:00.007-05:00

This is turning into a bit of a series.

I'm alone with my vibrator, and I'm thinking dirty thoughts. I have permission to come as many times as I want, and I plan on taking advantage of that. I tease my clit, thinking of how you went down on me last night, teasing me with your tounge. I rub myself lower, as I imagine you calling me a slut and whispering naughty things in my ears as you play with my nipples. I push my vibrator inside of me, fantisizing about the next time you'll tie me up on your bed, spanking me until I beg you to take me, and I finally come thinking about having your cock inside of me, pounding me as I tell you to fuck me harder and harder.

----

I'm tied up on the bed, face down, and I can't hear what you're doing. The first hit of the flogger on my back comes as a shock, and I breath out an unfortunate "ow" before I realize what I'm doing.

"What was that, Jane?"

"Nothing, Sir, it was nothing."

"Are you sure? Because I am sure that I heard you say 'ow.' You aren't allowed to say 'ow,' if you recall."

Another hit, harder than the last, though I manage to stay quiet for this one.

"What are you supposed to say, Jane? What do you say when it hurts?"

"Thank you, Sir."

"Good girl."

----

"What does this mean, Jane?"

You have a hold on my collar, pulling me so I can almost not breath, so that I am rather uncomfortable, so I have no choice but to answer you, because I can't do anything else.

I linger a bit longer than you'd like, and you jerk my collar again.

"Stop pouting and answer. What does this collar that you are wearing mean?"

In a small voice, I respond, "It means I belong to you."

Absence...

2009-06-04T18:13:00.002-05:00

...makes the heart grow fonder.

Finishing up college, moving, and having some other things come to a head really means that my sex drive, and my erotica writing, has taken a back seat recently.

Hopefully I'll return soon.

Beautiful

2009-04-24T22:34:00.002-05:00

I am standing, though not standing really, because what do you call it when your hands are tied above your head and attached to the ceiling? My feet are on the ground anyways, and my head is down a little, just enough to have my hair fall in my face a bit, before you brush it away. Your hand grazes my cheek, and I tingle with anticipation.

"How do you feel, right now?" You ask, quietly, commandingly, expecting an answer, though I can tell you will wait for the truth.

I think. How do I feel? In truth, it is now, when I am at my most vulnerable, that I feel my most powerful. I know who I am, and I embrace it. I turn towards you, slightly, and though I don't look directly at you, I answer, "Vulnerable, but strong."

"Good girl," you answer. You think for a minute. "You know what I see when I look at you like this?"

"What, Sir?" I am curious.

"I see a beautiful young woman." You say. Another pause. "And I see my sexy little slut."

Another tingle. I love it when you talk like that to me. You circle me, your hands touching here and there, a caress across my side, and pinch on my arm, a smack on my ass. I watch in the mirror off to the side. I watch you examine your sexy little slut, and I revel in the fact that I know I bring you pleasure.

I watch as you get down on the floor, and I don't really understand what you're doing, when all of a sudden I feel your warm breath between my legs and your tongue on my clit. I don't like this usually, but I don't have a choice, and you know that. You lick a little, and look up at me, pleased with yourself, before telling me, "You will not come without my permission. You will ask, and I will say yes or no. If I say no, you will not come. Are we clear?"

I nod, mumbling a little, "Yes, Sir."

You go back to paying complete attention to my clit. Your tongue warms me up in the cold room, prodding, tickling, teasing, driving me insane. My knees start to give away, slightly, and I shake a little. I know this pleases you, and I know you are trying to prove to me that you can get me off like this.

You continue to taste me with your mouth, and slowly push a finger into my pussy. You know you are starting to get to me, and I am very much enjoying the attention. I ask, "Can I come, Sir? Please?"

"No." You respond. "Tonight, I want to hear you beg for it."

I pause. I wonder how long I can take this before I am begging in earnest. I wait a little longer. The feeling of your warm lips and your face in my pussy is so heavenly that I almost don't want to come, because it will end the blissful feelings you're causing to course through my body. But you do so like it when I beg.

"Sir? Sir, can I please come?" I shake a bit. "Please let me come Sir, I need to come so badly, please?" I'm almost whimpering, sounding as pathetic as I can. You shake your head, continuing to tease.

"No, Sir, I can't wait any longer, please, let me come, please."

You stop and pull your face back to look at me, still slowly fucking me with your finger, and smile. "Yes."

Train

2009-04-22T16:58:00.002-05:00

So I wrote this with a specific blogger in mind, mainly because he seems to write so many posts which involve imagining the plight of girls on trains. This, however, is mostly true (like everything else I write, anyways).

Sitting on the top level of the train, I hope that it escapes most people's notice that I have been reading the first page of my novel for the past ten minutes of the ride. It's a big difficult to focus when I know what I'm traveling toward.

"I think I'm going to tie you up, dear, and spank you with that little paddle you absolutely love so much."

I squirm a bit, glancing around. I can't believe I actually ask for this. My feelings are torn between anxious and aroused, and I giggle a little to myself, my secret making me a bit giddy. I wonder how many other people on the train have similar double lives, and wonder if anybody can guess, from the look on my face, what I'll be doing later.

"Then, after that, there's the riding crop. I know you adore that as well, Jane."

It's announced that the next stop is mine. I slowly gather my belongings, making sure I don't forget my train pass. I walk to the vestibule, as the train slows down, getting ready to stop. I step down the stairs onto the platform, glancing around nervously.

"And when you've had too much, you'll thank me for it, won't you?"

I spot him, tall and strong, waiting for me. I glance downwards, put one foot in front of the other, and we meet up. I can't put it off any longer. He gathers me up in a big hug, but I don't miss his words.

"I know you can't wait to feel my hands on your ass. Good to see you, darling."

----

The next morning, when I'm traveling back to the city on the train, I'm a little sore. I squirm a bit, glancing around. I can't believe I actually ask for this.

Smiles

2009-04-19T19:48:00.002-05:00

Part one and part two.

As I'm drying off, I can feel his eyes on me, appraising, and by what I can see, he is enjoying the view.

"That's enough. Give me the towel." I comply, handing him the towel. I seem to have forgotten how to speak, even though now the gag is gone, and he doesn't seem to be moving to be putting it back in. "So you can follow directions, I see," he says, almost laughing.

"Yes, sir," I answer. Where did that come from? I'm surprised at myself, and he grins. "Good. Looks like you're a natural. This shouldn't be too hard, though I do love a challenge." He pauses. "Come now, let's go into the other room."

We walk over to a wardrobe in the corner of the room, as I glance around to catch the details I missed the first time around. It is a big room, and beside the table in the middle, there's a bed on the side, this wardrobe, and a bookshelf. He catches me glancing around, and chuckles. "Pay attention now, darling. This is where you'll keep your clothes, those that you get, that is." He opens the wardrobe and pulls out a short skirt and top, no bra or panties, and leans down to pick up a pair of heels.

"You can wear these to dinner, and we'll talk more then." He sets them down on a short table next to the wardrobe and grabs me by my wrist, pulling me to the bed. "This is where you'll sleep- not in the bathtub," he intones, and I swear I see him wink. I'm so confused. This man has me here against my will and is making jokes with me? Unbelievable.

He sits down on the bed, pulling me next to him, then all of a sudden I'm over his knees. "You didn't think I'd forget that you didn't listen to me earlier?" He waits for an answer.

"No, sir?" I am completely thrown off.

"Of course not, darling." His right hand rests on my bottom, while his left hand holds me down. Not that I'm struggling, though the thought has crossed my mind. He taps the plug in my ass. "Maybe this can come out now." He pulls the plug out and I'm amazed at how empty I'm left feeling. He sets it down on the floor, as far as I can tell, and next I know, his hand is smacking my ass, very hard.

Alone

2009-04-11T21:05:00.001-05:00

I like thinking about you when I'm laying on my back about to play with myself. I tweak my nipples, knowing you would do it harder than I can, and thinking about how much that thrills me. I like to slowly move downwards, getting used to my body, loving how touching myself feels. I think about times you and I have spent together. Times when you've been tender and gentle and times when you've been rough and fast.

To be honest though, I think about the rough and fast times more than the gentle times...

I think about being tied up as I finger my clit, and I think about the paddle on my ass as I move my finger downward. I'll pull out my vibrator when I'm thinking about you thrusting your cock into my pussy. I imagine you on top of me when I move it into me, teasing as I go. I imagine asking you for permission and you saying yes as I push a little more. The images that flash through my head are of you, strong and sexy, and of the feeling I get when you call me your little slut and tell me what to do.

I push harder with my vibrator, wishing it was your cock, trying to suppress the little moans and gasps coming from me, thinking about how much noise I would be making if I were with you. I imagine the things I want you to do to me, and the feeling of intense arousal lodges itself in my stomach, and when I am close to coming, I close my eyes and let go.

And then, when I'm done, I always think, "Thank you Sir."

Typo

2009-04-10T10:33:00.002-05:00

I am currently writing my senior thesis (apologies for the lack of posting, as you might guess, I'm a bit busy) and as I was trying to write the word "span", I found myself writing instead "spank." Obviously, you can take the girl away from the spank, but you can't take the spank out of the girl.

Finals

2009-03-15T19:08:00.001-05:00

I'm on my knees in front of him. We're both fully clothed, but his cock sticks straight out of his pants, hard and ready for my mouth.

"Have you been studying hard, slut?"

"Mhhm," I murmur. My tongue swirls around the tip of his cock.

"Do you think you'll pass all your tests this semester?"

I nod. I open my lips, pulling the tip inside my mouth.

"You know, I'm not really sure you've been as focused on your schoolwork as you could be."

I keep silent at this statement. I tongue the tip of his cock now, holding tightly with my lips.

"Maybe you need a bit of help, you know, to help you concentrate."

I pull his cock deeper into my mouth, concentrating on only one thing. I lightly caress his balls with my hand, hearing a moan up above as I do so.

"Actually, you seem to be doing a pretty good job concentrating. You're a good little slut. So good at this."

I hold his cock in my mouth, all the way down, my lips at the base of it. He pulls my head away, manuvering me back away from him, as he adjusts so he is completely back in his pants.

"Study break is over. If you get A's on your finals, we'll see what we can do about finishing this up. Maybe you'll even get a few orgasms."

He winks, and walks away. I push myself up, staring at the bookshelves around me, walking slowly back to the reading room where my books and papers are.

Clean

2009-03-13T01:25:00.004-05:00

For the first part of this fantasy, click here.

After he shaved my pussy, the man started to clean up and he walked around the room, putting things away, seemingly paying no attention to me. This gave me a better chance to look at him. He's a big man, obviously he would have to be to move me around with such ease, but he doesn't come off as bulky, more as a lean mass that you wouldn't want to tangle with. He is tall, and almost handsome, though I dislike him so much at the moment, I don't want to think that. His hair is a dirty blond color, his face startling with green eyes that focus with much intensity on whatever he cares to give his attention to.

I am so deep in thought that I don't notice him coming back up to where I am. He uncuffs my hands and feet and picks me up as if I'm a giant doll. I wonder where we're going next, though not for long. We go into a large bathroom off the room we're in, with a huge bathtub, which appears to be filled.

"In you go," he says, as he gently sets me in the tub. The warm water is blissful, after being tied and humiliated as I was. "You've got half an hour to bathe." He starts to walk out. "And don't you dare remove that plug!"

He didn't say anything about the gag, though, and that comes off almost the minute he leaves the room. I figure I may as well enjoy my bath, and lean back, stretching out and relaxing in the enveloping warmth. I begin to feel a bit drowsy again and decide to close my eyes for a minute.

Next thing I know, I'm being rudely awaken. "One simple task, girl, I give you, and you can't even accomplish that? Do you not know how to bathe yourself? Very well, I can do it for you." He doesn't yell, but he doesn't have to. The mediated anger and disapproval are very present in his voice.

He strips in front of me, allowing me to see all of him now, just as I suspected, lean and buff, every bit of his body exuding power. He dips in the tub, coming toward me. "If you cooperate, darling, this won't be as hard as it has to be." He almost snarls. I nod, not knowing what to say. He grabs my hair, pulling it underneath the water, though leaving my face tilted upwards. Soon, it seems, his anger dissipates, and he is enjoying himself. I, however, have subjected myself to an even more through inspection than before, as he takes pleasure in washing behind my ears, in my bellybutton and even down to each of my toes.

"There now, my dear, that was not so difficult, was it? In the future, however, do not expect such leniency. You will be punished for disobeying me." He pulls me out of the tub, handing me a towel before wrapping one around himself.

"You will learn, though. And I will have such a wonderful time teaching you."

Red

2009-03-06T21:17:00.010-06:00

It's so sexy, my bright red fingernails at the base of your cock, holding it tightly while I enjoy it with my mouth. All I'm thinking about, at that very moment, is how wonderfully hard and large you feel in my mouth and how the contrast of my fingernails makes such a pretty picture I wish I had a camera.

You don't want that long though, and soon you're pulling my mouth away from your cock and teasing me with it in front of my face. "You want this back, don't you? Hungry little slut. Well I have other things planned for you." You get up and go to over to where you store the toys. I hear your rummaging around, but I know better than to look over my shoulder. You come up towards the end of the bed, grabbing on of my ankles, slipping a thick leather cuff on it. I love the feel of the cuffs constraining me, just tight enough around my ankles, pulling my legs apart as you tie them to either end of the bed. Next, my wrists. I try to cooperate, knowing it doesn't matter because you would tie me up anyways, but that it's easier this way.

When I'm all stretched out, tied open for you, you come and sit next to me on the bed. You push a pillow beneath my hips to lift them up and start playing with my clit. You peer between my legs, examining my pussy, pulling my lips wide open, sliding a finger in. "Whose pussy is this, darling?"

"Yours, Sir," I answer.

"Good girl." You slide your finger, in and out, easily, because I am so wet. You stop, and continue your probing, pulling at my hair a little, poking and running your fingers up and down. You move closer to my ass, playing a little there, before you begin running your hands over my ass checks. Suddenly you smack down hard. "Sit still!" You firmly command. I didn't even realize I was wiggling.

You get up again, and come back, and I feel the riding crop being dragged along my back towards my bottom, and I know what's coming next. I feel the sting before I hear any noise, and a quick follow-up, on the same spot. I like the pain of the riding crop, it's stinging which leads the way to a nice throbbing spot on my ass. I know that soon my ass will be a nice bright red, and I am getting wetter by the second, the throbbing on my ass leading to a throbbing in my pussy.

I get my wish, after you've worked me over with the crop. You put it down and rub my ass, soothing it with your big hands. They move downwards, teasing me as they go, until I hear myself begging for you to make me come, let me come, oh please just don't leave me like this.You answer my whimpers by thrusting your cock into me, in one large movement, then back and forth, in and out, until I'm shouting with pleasure, and your hand is smacking my ass and you come with me.

Later, after we've cuddled a bit, I get up to admire my ass in the mirror. Bright red, as I was expecting. As bright red as my nails.

Birthday Spanking

2009-03-04T15:19:00.003-06:00

I wish I could say that it was glamorous or wonderful or sexy, but I mainly spent the entire time squealing "ow" (which I am usually not allowed to say but since it was my birthday...) and giggling. So it was perfect, basically. Twenty-two with the big paddle, and then some random smacks with other implaments, left my bottom delightfully warm and tingly afterwards.

Apologies for the lack in posting; I was doing so well, so it is sad to me that I didn't post in two weeks. Soon though, I promise. And if I don't, well, hopefully I'll get a spanking. ;)

Punishment (Part Two)

2009-02-16T19:58:00.000-06:00

For the first part of this post, see Punishment (Part One).

All of sudden, I'm tumbling off my knees and you've got me on the floor. It wasn't a far drop, but I wonder how I ended up there for a second, before you break into my reviere.

"Go get your vibrator, slut."

I scamper off to where I've hid them, and bring out my little box. "Which one, sir?" I hold up the box and you pick one. It's a new one, pink and more soft than hard. I've never actually used it in me yet.

"Get down on your hands and knees." You command. I do, and you lean over, whispering again in my ear. "You like being like this, don't you? Hm?"

"Yes, sir, I do." I answer, as you pinch a nipple, causing me to stumble over my answer.

You turn on the vibrator, rubbing it around my clit and the rest of my pussy, causing me to slowly try to rotate my hips to get the best contact. You smack my ass, telling me to hold still.

I'm dripping wet, at this point, and you gently push the vibrator inside of me. You tell me that it shouldn't fall, and I try to hold it in, and seem to be successful. You continue to talk to me, breathing in my ear what a dirty little slut I am, how you're proud of me for holding the vibrator inside me, how you can't wait to feel my mouth on your cock.

You stand up, pulling my hair so my face is looking up at you, and with your other hand you pull your cock out of your pants. You tug a bit, and I know to get up on my knees and take you in my mouth. Between sucking on you, and the vibrating in my pussy, I know that a simple rubbing on my clit would be enough to set me off. I wait, eagerly playing with you with my mouth and using my hands to caress your balls and thighs. When you get close, I put a finger on my clit and begin to circle it, coming close myself. My moans set you off, and we come together.

"That, my dear, is very good slut behavior."

Quick

2009-02-12T20:56:00.000-06:00

I am, as usual, extremely nervous about meeting with my advisor, since I hadn't seen him in a good six months. Ideally, I would have met with him sooner, but he'd stood me up and I was too scared to email him asking to reschedule any earlier.

I clomp up the stairs, trying to catch my breath so I wouldn't seem so flustered when I walk in to his office. I unzip my coat and pull out the new draft of my proposal. It isn't bad, but it isn't amazing either, and I am hoping it will be well received.

I walk into his office and wait for him to acknowledge my presence. He nods his head and I sit down.

"Professor, I have the new copy..." I start, before he cuts me off. "What are you doing here with only that? You should be much farther along. Why didn't we meet sooner?" I'm speechless.

He continues, "Jane, this behavior is uncalled for. You're not acting like a senior in college but like a kid in elementary school. I should treat you like that." He stands up.

"Shut the door." I get up and shut the door. I wonder what's going on. "Turn around and put your hands on the back of that chair. That's right."

All of a sudden I hear a swishing noise and a smack. I'm momentarily stunned until I realize the smack was something hitting my ass. His belt, maybe? Quickly, there's four more, and then, just as suddenly, he's sitting down behind his desk again.

"Now we can talk about your new proposal."

News to me

2009-02-09T16:57:00.003-06:00

The first thing I thought when I read this article was "So since in a relationship I'd say I come about 3 times more than my partner, would I have skewed the data?"

Also, I have a few other things to say about it. I read this sentence, "England’s study found that women give oral sex to their male partners in all contexts—from casual hookups to relationships—at higher rates than men do, sometimes dramatically higher" and it really pissed me off, probably unnecessarily. However, I think that for one thing, just because guys are getting more blow jobs doesn't mean that's the cause of women not getting orgasms. Women don't get orgasms because we're harder to figure out, physically, than men (thank goodness, if I were a guy I'd get bored, wouldn't you?) and a lot of women don't tell their guy what they want. Making the amount of oral sex girls get isn't going to magically make the orgasm equation equal on both sides. Myself, I can't come from oral. So I don't want it. This doesn't mean I'm not happy.

This quote annoyed me, too: "Michael Kimmel, author of Guyland and a leading writer on men and masculinity, sees the male psychology on orgasms as comparable to housework: 'Men don’t pull their weight on either front because no one makes them.'" Seriously?? You're comparing orgasms and oral sex to HOUSEWORK? Oh dear. There are so many things wrong with that. So. Many. Things. There's a difference between getting a guy to sweep the kitchen floor (which, sure, will make you happy on some level) and getting him to make you come. He's probably a lot more invested in making you come than in the kitchen floor.

I'll tie up with this statement: "Speaking from her own experience, she says multi-orgasmic women take responsibility for their own pleasure." I would have to at least agree with this. I think it's important for women to tell their guy what they want, because if they're with a guy who cares, inevitably the guy wants them to be happy too. It might take a while, but you'll get there.

Vignettes

2009-02-07T10:57:00.004-06:00

For more, see the first Vignettes post.

On the phone, I ask, "Sir, can I please have permission to... you know what?"

"Yes, Jane, you may have permission."

A long pause, while I think.

"Why do I have to ask permission, anyways?"

"Because that's mine, slut, and I control it."

----

"Whose pussy is this, little one?" He asks as his big hand cups the area in question.

"Yours, sir." I answer as I've been taught to do.

"What about these tits, love? Whose are these?" He asks, as he twists one of my nipples.

"Those are yours too, sir." I answer, looking up at him.

"And whose mouth is this?" He asks, as he is grabbing my hair and pulling me closer to him.

"Your mouth, sir." I get out, just as he puts his cock in it.

----

"Beg for it, Jane. I want to hear you beg, sounding pathetic, beg me for it."

"Sir...." I whine. "I can't, you know I can't beg, it's so hard." He grabs my hair and twists, until I cry out.

"But I want to hear it, dear, which means you will beg, and you will mean it."

"Oh but sir..." I'm almost whimpering now, which I know is what he likes anyways. "Sir, can I please come? Pretty please? Will you please fuck my pussy with your fingers? I'd like that so much."

"You would, wouldn't you? Well I suppose...since you asked so nicely...."

Trapped

2009-02-03T12:07:00.002-06:00

This is a bit more intense than I usually go, but what can I say? It just spilled out.

"There's really no reason for you to try to escape. You won't get out."

I look around, frantically, as I wake up. I can't move my feet, because they're cuffed together and attached to....as I glance up I see they're attached to what seems to be a giant cage. I don't even know how I ended up there, but I start to panic and wiggle, but I know it's hopeless at the moment. The voice talks again, "That's right, just calm down; you'll be coming out of there in no time anyways. We have some things to take care of, now that you're mine."

I am astonished. His? Who the hell does he think he is? Well I suppose I'll find out soon. He's coming over to unlock the thing I'm in, I think. He comes over, unlocks my feet, and pulls me out. "No trouble now. You're probably still a bit drowsy anyways."
He drags me by my arm through an immense house, wonderfully decorated and very fancy. I wonder what's coming and I'm frustrated by not being able to talk or ask questions. I have a feeling though that this man means business and I don't want him to have any reason to show me what will happen if I do give him trouble.
He brings me to a big room with a table and what seems to be a bowl of water on the table with a whole bunch of other things I can't make out from my angle. He picks me up and grabs my hands and attaches them to cuffs which seem to be tied to the table legs. Quickly I'm hoisted up on the table and on my back, my feet locked into similar cuffs as my wrists. I'm totally open to his eyes. He walks around the table, looking at me, poking me every so often, pulling my hair, examining me thoroughly. I'm humiliated by the close attention he's paying me, and then he is all of a sudden between my legs, pulling apart my pussy lips, sliding his finger up and down my pussy before moving down to my asshole, and poking and prodding there. I'm mortified and wish he would stop. I try to shake a little and he smacks my pussy, telling me to hold still.
All of a sudden I feel a cold and wet feeling down where he's pushing his fingers. I feel a finger enter my ass, slowly and surely, and then another, and then they're removed to be replaced by another, slightly larger, colder feeling. I wonder what it is, and he clarifies for me, "That, my dear sweet girl, is a butt plug. You should get used to that feeling there, because it'll be there a lot, and bigger ones, too."
Now more wet feeling, except this time it feels like water, all over my trimmed pussy hair. I glance up and see him lathering on shaving cream and know what's coming next. He takes his time, shaving my pussy smooth. Afterwards, he cleans me all up, and I'm finding I am enjoying the attention. I hope that he doesn't notice how I'm getting wet with all his ministrations. Of course he will though, I think, he's the one messing around down there. And he does notice, remarking, "Oh, our little captive is certainly having a good time down here. He plays with my newly shaven pussy, still sensitive, making me squirm as he plays around, rubbing around my clit in circles, running his fingers up and down, slipping them in at the end and pulling them out, then finally pushing one in, and leaving it there, holding it, twisting it, finally thrusting it back and forth until I think I'm going to come, when he pulls it out and smacks my pussy again. "Sorry, not today, my dear little captive. You haven't earned it yet." I whimper, and try to look pathetic, to gain some sympathy.
He looks up at my face, clearly unmoved. "I think you're going to like it here, darling.

Forgetful

2009-01-30T18:15:00.003-06:00

I have a nice little fantasy, left over from this summer, in which I've forgotten my badge to get into the office and the young guard on duty really has it in for me.

"Jane, if you could just step into my office, please."

"Yes sir," I said quietly, knowing I'm in trouble. I think it's the third time this week I've forgotten my badge. I open the door and walk into the office, sitting down in a chair in front of the desk.

My eyes wander around the office, thinking about what to say to the guard, thinking about how attractive he is in his uniform. I'm lost in my thoughts and as he walks in, the noise startles me and I jump a little. He walks around to his side of the desk, my eyes following his smooth movements, wondering what he's going to say.

"You know, Jane, this is really unacceptable. Three times this week, if I remember correctly. I've already given you a second chance- a few times, in fact."

"I know, sir, and I'm really sorry, but when I leave my house I am usually running out the door and I just forget and-"

He interrupts, "I don't have time for this, Jane, I really don't. Getting you a visitor pass every single day is becoming a chore. We need to assure this won't happen again. I have an idea of how to help you remember."

"You do, sir? That would be excellent! What do you have in mind?"

"Well, I don't know if you're going to like my suggestion. Get up, and bend over the desk." He commands, as I sit there puzzeled. "I meant now, Jane!"

I scramble towards the desk and bend over it, with my hands on his desk calendar. He gets up, and walks around to the other side, looking at my back. All of a sudden I can feel my skirt being pulled up, and my ass being exposed.

"Sir, what are you doing?"

"Helping you remember, dear girl! I don't think you'll forget this for a while."

I'm wondering what he's going to be doing back there, when a smack on my exposed ass brings me back to reality. All of a sudden I have an idea of what he has in mind and I jump up. "I won't stand for this, I won't! You need to stop right this minute!"

His one hand pushes the small of my back until I'm leaning against the desk again and his other hand pulls up my skirt, and then pulls down my underwear. Still holding me, and not responding, he continues to spank me, over and over again, to my embarrassment. He was right, I don't think I'm going to forget this lesson.

All of a sudden, he pauses, and slips his hand lower. I squirm. I can't believe it! I was enjoying what he was doing to me. I am worried he's going to find out.

Too late. "Oh Jane, you have one wet little pussy." He teases my clit and pulls his hand back away, just when I was getting excited. "Do you want me to take care of that for you?"

I don't answer, but I don't want him to stop touching me down there. "You are such a terribly naughty girl, aren't you? Getting turned on by the humiliation of being spanked? How wonderful." He smacks me a few times, hard, to emphasize. I moan.

He puts his hand back near my clit again, rubbing around it in circles. "Jane, I know you need release. I'm not going to let you come until you beg." He suddenly slips his finger in my pussy, and I gasp. Just as quickly, it's gone and I feel a bit empty. I am really horny at the moment and could really use that help he's offering me.

"Sir..." I whine. "Sir, please..."

"Please what?" I hear a zipper and feel something hard by my pussy. His hand reaches around to grab one of my nipples, twisting it and pulling it, hard. He lets go of that and pulls my hair, raising my head a little. "Please what? I can't hear you."

"Please fuck me, sir, please." I beg in a quiet voice.

"Why should I do that, girl? You really haven't earned it."

His fingers go down towards my pussy again, this time two slip inside me, easily, and he pulls them in and out, as my body pushes back against his hand. Faster and faster we move against each other, and all of a sudden I come, and he claps his other hand over my mouth to stop my cries. He keeps his fingers inside me for a bit, before pulling them out and holding them in front of my face, telling me, "Clean them off."

I eagerly suck on them. He pulls up my underwear, straightens my skirt, and gestures for me to get up.

"Now then Jane, you won't forget your badge again, will you?"

"No, sir," I respond, although I'm already trying to remember the next time he will be on duty.

Bedtime

2009-01-19T20:57:00.007-06:00

And now, back to this blog's roots, for your reading pleasure, a spanking (and only spanking) story.

So there I was, babysitting for my neighbor's kids who were known around the neighborhood as little terrors. I wouldn't have done it, either, but my mom was keen on neighborly relations and I was home on break from University and didn't mind making what seemed like a few easy bucks. I didn't understand it before I went over there, but they did seem to go through babysitters faster than anyone I knew.

After the parents had left, however, it was suddenly clear. The two little boys were absolute terrors. Eating dinner was such a chore and they refused to go to bed when I asked them to. At midnight, when their parents got back, the two kids were still awake and practically bouncing off the walls. At the sight of their dad, however, they ran up the stairs, all of a sudden completely eager to get to bed.

I started apologising profusely. Mrs. Peterson seemed okay with it, clearly accepting that her children were terribly misbehaved. She left the room, presumably to make sure her kids got into bed. Mr. Peterson, on the other hand, was not pleased. "Jane, this is not acceptable. You're a college student and you can't control two little boys?" He asked. "I don't know that you deserve to get paid for your preformance this evening."

At that comment, I was absolutely livid! I had tried to get them to sleep and nothing had worked. "Mr. Peterson, that is really not fair. I did watch your children for six hours."

"Well, you really didn't do a very good job. I should treat you like I do the boys when they aren't very good." He responded.

"What do you mean?"

"Jane, I mean I should put you over my knee and spank you!"

I shook my head. "Mr. Peterson, I'd appreciate if you just paid me and I head home."

"That's not an option, young lady. You'll go over my knee or you don't get paid."

I could not believe this guy but I did need the cash. How bad could it be, right? "Fine." I responded. At that, he sat down on the couch and patted his knees. Reluctantly, I climbed across them. All of a sudden, I could feel my pants and underwear being pulled down. "What are you doing?"

"Well, it obviously wouldn't be a proper spanking if it were over your pants, now would it?" As I literally was not in a good position to argue, I remained silent. Then, I felt his hand come down on my ass. I could not believe this was happening! Here I was, a college student, being spanked like a young child.

He spanked and spanked, and after a while I began to feel my ass heat up, and with each smack of his hand it stung a little more. I began to apologise again, saying, "I'm really sorry about what happened with your kids Mr. Peterson, next time I'll be more firm with them, I promise." He was silent, still continuing to go back and forth on my ass, and it was really starting to hurt. He stopped then, just when I was about to start pleading with him.

"Get up!" He demanded.

"Aren't we done yet?" I whined.

"No, we are most certainly not. Go wait in the corner until I get back." I waited, standing in the corner, more embarrassed than I'd been in years. He finally returned, after what seemed like an eternity. I heard a soft swishing noise, like fabric rubbing against each other. "Go stand with your hands on the back of the couch."

I did, waddling a bit because of my pants and underwear around my knees. As I leaned over, he said, "Six with my belt and you're done," and almost immediately there was a smack on my ass, much harder than his hand. I could not believe I was letting this happen to me! He interrupted my thoughts with another quick whoosh and smack, and four in succession after that. My ass was burning, though, and I was thankful when he was done.

I got up and pulled up my pants. Mr. Peterson handed me $60 and I thanked him. That night I slept on my stomach.

News

2009-01-08T19:49:00.004-06:00

I have a dom. My very own, and I am thrilled. See, a long time ago, I thought I was into spanking. In truth, I am into spanking, very into spanking, but I am into other stuff too. I want to be tied up and I want to be told not to come and I want to be called a little slut and I also want to be spanked, among other things. I've wanted to explore this for a while, and I've been thinking and hoping and thinking more for over a year now.

So I started looking for a dom in the past few months, somebody who would compliment my sub side, who would appreciate that I'm sassy and frank and open and not always the most submissive person in the world. I wanted somebody who I could respect as a person, first, and who I wanted to serve, second. I played around with a few people, seeing if I could see myself in a long-term sort of relationship, and started to narrow down characteristics I appreciated and wanted. And then, over Christmas, I found somebody.

I suppose this doesn't change this blog much. Posting will still be sporadic, although I've been meaning to post some more real-life posts, more about me, more about how I feel about my submission. I suppose I haven't really come out to the readers (the few and loyal, thank you) as a submissive, but all this thinking about myself has led me to where I am and I'm going to continue exploring down this road.

In trouble

2008-12-27T22:09:00.003-06:00

A fantasy.

I'm teetering in high heels and a really skimpy outfit, carrying a tray of glasses to the partygoers. All of a sudden I slip, and I watch as, in slow motion, the glasses crash to the floor. The noise brings the attention of the guests, and most especially the head of the household, currently engaged in a conversation, and he looks up with an angry look on his face, unhappy to be disturbed by my mishaps. I know what that means. I am in serious trouble. I'd been warned, before the party, of what would happen if I messed up, and dropping and breaking a platter full of glasses certainly counts as a mess up.

He calmly walks over, his calm belying his displeasure, as I stand there and stutter that I'll take care of it. He replies that I most certainly will, right this very instant, as he grabs my hair and pulls me into the kitchen, when I retrieve a short broom and dustpan to sweep up the glass. I'm forced to bend over to take care of the mess, displaying my charms to the entire room of guests, all dressed up and looking disdainfully in my direction. The party has gotten awfully quiet as they all await my punishment.

After what seems like forever, I've mopped up all the glass and thrown it away. I'm made to get down on my hands and knees to make sure I have gotten every shard, a remarkably embarrassing position. I find a few slivers, each one earning me a hard smack on my very exposed ass, as my little skirt doesn't even begin to fall past my butt.

Unceremoniously, I'm again pulled up by the hair, and brought over to the table, which was cleared off after dinner. All of a sudden, I find myself tied to the legs, immobile. My skimpy costume, offering little protection, but some protection nonetheless, is ripped off, and I'm exposed for all the guests to see. People are remarking on my ass, how nice it looks in this light, how it clearly will be able to take a lot of punishment, and oh, have I been misbehaving a lot lately, look at those faded stripes. I can feel my face reddening, but it doesn't get nearly as red as I'm sure my ass will be shortly.

He comes over, suddenly brandishing the scary looking cane, something I've become well-acquainted with recently, as I can't seem to manage to cut down on my klutziness. He leans over, whispering in my ear, I think six will do. Since he packs quite a punch with that cane, I would have to agree, not that it is my place to voice such opinions. You know what to do, he continues, before he gets back up behind me, ready.

Swish and the cane hits me, the sharp feeling corresponding with the crack I hear ringing through my ears. One, and thank you Sir, I say, gasping for breath, not believing there's going to be five more of these. But there will be, and the next comes, right on top of where the first one hit, two, and thank you Sir. Three isn't much better placed; I know I'll feel that one whenever I try to sit in the next week, and thank you Sir. Four and five sting, but at this point I'm feeling in a bit of a daze, luckily it occurs to me what I'm supposed to do, thank you Sir. Six, the final one, hurts more than the first five combined, but I don't know if it is because it is harder or I am feeling the shame of embarrassing Sir in front of all his guests, and I say, sincerely sorry, thank you Sir.

He leans back over and rubs my ass. I gasp. He tells me I've taken my punishment very well, but he is leaving me here for the rest of the evening, a reminder to all the rest, and as a pretty side piece for his guests to play with.

He moves away, and for a moment, I'm left in peace before anyone gets the courage to come over. I'm sure they can see my pussy and ass exposed, as my legs are spread wide open, showing everything. I am also sure they can see my pussy dripping, a fact I wish I could hide. Then, somebody comes over, patting my ass as he fingers my pussy. My, what a wet little slut! I can't believe she actually enjoyed that treatment, he remarks, as he roughly shoves two fingers into my soaking cunt. I know I'm in for a long evening.

Assignment

2008-12-25T21:56:00.002-06:00

I'm lying on my back, completely naked, on the bed with my hands tied above me. I was waiting. I alternatively love and hate being made to wait. On one hand, I am probably the most impatient person ever, but on the other, I like being reminded that really it's not all about me. So, there I lay, waiting, wondering, imagining, and probably shivering a little.

He comes in the room, quietly, and I turn to look at him. He is still fully clothed, but I can see a bulge in his pants. He notices where my gaze is.

"You know, you do this to me, you little slut," he says, as he walks over towards the bed. I blush. He leans over and asks, "Do I have a similar effect on you?"

I shake my head, mainly out of shyness than a willingness to lie. It is, of course, a complete lie, one he discovers when he reaches down and slips his finger between my pussy lips to discover the wetness there. After his finger is coated, he brings it up to my mouth to clean off. Eagerly, I suck on it, as if to say, this is what I would do to your cock. I'm sure he understands.

He steps back, and begins to unbutton his shirt, a task I usually love, teasing me with his eyes. Shirt discarded, he begins to unbutton his pants. "Would you like to suck on my cock, little one?" This time, I nod my head yes. "Ask for it."

I squirm around on the bed a little, looking at his half-naked body, wondering if I can get out of this part. Most likely not, and I suppose I wouldn't want to. I feel myself get a bit wetter as I try to convince him to let me take him in my mouth. "Please Sir; please let me suck on your cock?"

He pulls off his pants, comes over and unties my hands. I roll over to the edge of the bed and take him into my mouth, reveling in the feeling. I enjoy this, making him happy. He is gentle, as he is sometimes, pulling my hair back and forth to show me what he wants, and pushing my throat deeper onto his cock, which makes me gag a little, but I like the feeling of being controlled. As I'm doing this, he starts whispering, "God you are such a good little cocksucker, you love this, don't you, sucking my cock, having me control you? You little slut, you're enjoying this so much. I'll bet your pussy is even getting wetter, just having my cock in your mouth."

It's true, I am enjoying it, loving it, and my hands slip down to my pussy to rub my clit a little. "Don't you dare, slut, I didn't say you could touch yourself yet. You're focusing on me right now." My hands return to roaming all over his body, feeling his skin with my hands. One hand reaches up to play with his nipples, while one fondles his balls. Soon, he's ready to come, and I know I'm to swallow it all.

We lie, side by side, on the bed, after he's come. He's relaxed now, ready to go to bed, but I'm hoping I'll get a little something, too. I'm usually not disappointed.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Can I please come?" I whisper. He pauses, and thinks about it.

"Well I suppose you were a good little slut for me, so yes. Would you like some help?"

"Yes, Sir," I nod enthusiastically. He reaches his hand down to my pussy, teasing my clit a bit as he reminds me not to come until I have permission. "Turn over," he says, commandingly. I flip over to my stomach, the way I like to be best, as he grabs my ass and squeezes. "So wonderful," he compliments.

A quick smack causes me to gasp. I'm just getting settled when all of a sudden he's got two fingers in my pussy moving in and out quickly. "Can I come, Sir?" I manage to put the words together.

"Wait, slut," he taunts. "But I can't, I need to come please, please Sir?"

There's a long pause, filled by my breathing and noises and finally, after what seems like forever he decides, "Yes."

Naughty

2008-12-18T13:41:00.001-06:00

I am really tempted to get myself this for Christmas.

Punishment (Part One)

2008-11-28T14:00:00.004-06:00

As I stood, nose pressed in the corner, I felt your warm breath by my ear. "Little girl, do we have to go over this again?"

"No?"

"No, what?"

"No, sir?"

"Was that a question?"

"No, sir."

"Better."

Your hands are running up and down my clothed back, gently massaging my shoulders, light touches here and there, a hand through my hair and all of a sudden a hard smack on my ass.

"Oh!" I gasp, as I'm lifted slightly up on my toes.

I can hear you chuckle behind me, and know how much you're enjoying this. This is what I wanted too, though, and I'm enjoying it as well. I wonder, somewhere deep in my head, if I'm allowed to enjoy a punishment. Probably not. You start in with the conversation again. "So why have you asked me here tonight?"

"I don't know." I mumble in what is an attempt at a cutesy voice.

"I can't really hear you, darling, can you speak up a bit?"

"I don't know." Louder, more confident, although the answer is still wrong.

"You don't know....You have no idea?"

"No?"

"You didn't ask me to come here to spank you?"

Well, in theory I did, but that doesn't mean I want to admit to it. I try to get by with just not directly answering this one. You lean in closer. "I can't hear you again, little one."

"I did." I whisper, clearly.

"You did what?"

"I asked you here to spank me." Oh how terribly mortifying this admission is! I wish I could shrivel up and disappear when I hear your little laugh again behind me.

"Pull your pants down, then, dear." I comply, leaving them in a puddle by my feet. You tug, indicating you want me to step out of them, and I do.

"Well, what are you waiting for then. Come here." I turn, to find you standing by my desk. "Move your chair to the center of the room." I follow instructions. "Now ask me to sit down, politely."

"Will you please take a seat?" You sit down, looking at me, expectantly. I get more nervous. What am I doing? My first real over the knee spanking. You pat your knees. "Come over here." And all of a sudden, I'm over your lap, and you're rubbing my pantied bottom. How nice, I think. I thought this would be uncomfortable, but the last thing on my mind is my comfort, I'm so nervous.

All of a sudden the rubbing stops and the awaited spanking begins. I am keeping as quiet as possible, scared somebody might hear, although I don't think my noises would be any louder than the sound of your hand connecting firmly with my ass. I start to feel it get redder and redder, and it starts to sting just a bit more, and you stop, and start rubbing again.

"You're such a naughty little girl, you know? Asking me to come over here, to spank you, to give you what you deserve? This is what naughty girls get, isn't it? Naughty, slutty little girls, like you."

To be continued.

Retrospect

2008-11-26T22:46:00.003-06:00

Obviously, it's not the new year yet, but I wanted to take a moment to look back on my resolutions for this year. They were, in case you can't remember, as follows:

1) Get ass spanked more.
2) Write more (write something every three days, at least).
3) Wear underwear less.
4) Work harder to maintain the good friendships, stop worrying about the shitty ones.
5) Maintain 3.5 (or higher) GPA.
6) Eat better.
7) Set goals and accomplish them.
8) Stop being such a brat.
9) Don't fall in love.
10) Find direction.

So, I managed to accomplish, straight out, number 1, 3, and 5. I worked on numbers 4, 6, and 8 but didn't really come to any conclusive results. Number 9 is hard to quanitify as is number 10, and 2 I just did not do at all, which saddens me. I was really going to try hard this year to write more. I kept a personal journal for a few months, I tried out this writing, and I can't seem to stick to it.

More on number 1 later, though. I definitely have spanking stories now. If not fantasies, then definitely real life encounters I would love to share.

Sign on delivery

2008-11-10T13:58:00.010-06:00

I imagine, as I go down to the package room in the basement, to pick up the package of new, sexy, lacy underwear I ordered, that the package guy has figured out what's in the little bag I'm retrieving. He's a tall, sexy, young man who is always ready with a smile as well as my package. He holds the bag, just out of reach, and tells me I can't have it until I model the cutest pair, which he'll pick out. He opens the package, examining the skimpy underwear, exclaiming, "My, how naughty of you, you little slutty girl, to be buying such underwear. Good girls don't wear this kind of underwear."

I blush, and try to hide from his piercing gaze, as he picks out the smallest pair in the bunch for me to show him. I strip from the waist down, and put on the cream-colored lacy panties. He makes a hand motion- circle around- and I turn slowly, enjoying his eyes on me, my pussy getting wetter by the minute.

"Okay then. Come here."

I walk over to him, and suddenly find myself pushed over the counter of the package room, on the receiving end of some hard smacks to my ass. "Naughty girls need a little instruction sometimes, don't they?"

I figure that is a rhetorical question, and remain quiet. A few seconds later, he's done. He hands me the rest of my package, and my ass is slightly warm as I slip my jeans back on. From now on, I'm sending my room mate to go get all our mail.

Daydreams

2008-10-06T11:53:00.003-05:00

"If I had asked to come on your face would you have let me?"

Yes. I would have. I'd have let you do a lot more than that, too, had you just said you wanted it.

"Do you like that?"

That is a difficult question. It's not that I like it, per se, but it's not as if I don't like it either. With you, I finally understood wanting to do something just to make you happy. And I would have wanted to do it if you had told me I had to.

"If I had came in her mouth, would you kissed her to get some?"

Yes. And, although you didn't ask, I would lick it off her tits, too.

"Do you wish you were here? Do you wish my cock was in your mouth?"

Oh yes. I wish I was with you, I wish we could explore more of what we started this summer. I want to feel your firm hands in my hair, pushing my head towards you, I want to have your hard cock in my mouth and I want to be with you after you come.

I want you, and only you.

Strong

2008-09-18T16:16:00.001-05:00

You intrigued me from the first moment I saw you. Tall and in shape, your arms and chest covered in tattoos, you were the exact opposite of any boy I had ever dated before. We had our first conversation on a Thursday, and by Friday you were coming home with me, both of us a bit tipsy, and we had a wonderful time. I knew you were for me when you slipped a finger up my ass as you were playing with my pussy.

After that, a few days later, when we were urgently making out on my living room couch, and you spanked my ass, I was sure. You apologized for it, and I was confused. Why apologize for something I liked? I said as much, and that was that. Your strong arms and big hands were perfect for me.

You would grab my hair, from the back of my head, pulling me and pushing me where you wanted. The feel of your strong grip, you fingers tangled in my hair, was sexy beyond belief, and I loved it. It was especially wonderful when you were pushing my head down onto your cock, holding it deep in my throat for a few seconds, and then pulling my head up to let me have a break, only to push it down again. I trusted you to not hurt me, and you didn't. I wanted you to push my mouth down onto your cock, I wanted that feeling of almost gagging but not, because you held me still and kept me in place.

I liked it when I would be sucking on your cock and you would have your fingers in my cunt. You were so strong, almost lifting my body up from the force of slamming in and out. It was so incredibly sexy that I would almost be unable to concentrate on your blow job, but I managed. I loved to see you happy when I was finished.

It was an amazing month, and I will miss you.

I'm back!

2008-09-17T17:16:00.008-05:00

Miss me?

Apologies for the big absence without any warning. I was out of the country for a few months, but I have now returned and will be back to blogging in no time.

Wishes

2008-06-22T18:40:00.001-05:00

"Do you want me to get some ice, honey?"

I don't even say anything, I nod a response, you leave the room and come back with a cup of ice. I don't really like ice, to be honest, I'm always scared it is going to stick to my skin, which is a totally irrational fear, based on the knowledge that tongues will stick to metal poles in the winter. Where the fear of ice comes from, I don't know, since I'm from a state which routinely has about 5 months of winter.

But you pull out a cube, and start to rub it all over my stomach, and it doesn't stick, it starts to melt deliciously, dripping cold water all over me slowly. You move it up towards my tits, circling it around them, staying away from my nipples.

You get a new ice cube, and put it on one of my nipples, and then your mouth dips to the other, one side is warm, and one side is cold. You switch. I'm so turned on by now, it feels amazing.

You move it down, down my stomach, to my belly button, down further and further until you reach my clit, holding it there, although it is getting difficult for you, with me squirming so much and the ice melting in your hands as you hold it.

You grab another piece of ice and rapidly you push it in me. Its so cold going in before I lose the feeling of it. Your fingers follow it, thrusting in and out of my pussy, everything is wet, from me, from the melting ice.

"Please please can I come, please?"

You rapidly pull your fingers out, grab my head and pull me down to your cock. I twirl my tongue around the tip, trying to make you as happy as you just made me. You push my head down, pull up, push down, in a motion that I love. When you are ready to come, you start with me again, teasing my clit and filling my holes.

Finally, we come together, falling back on the bed in unison, exhausted from our exertions.

Vignettes

2008-06-09T21:33:00.005-05:00

A long kiss, tasting slightly of the beer you just had with your friends is accompanied by you saying "I want you to remember this. Think about me while I'm gone. Think about my cock in your mouth."

----

"What are you doing?"

You lightly hold my breast, fondling my nipple.

"This, dear, is a flick." With you making the hand movement to accompany that statement, I make a little "oh" shape with my lips.

"This is a tweak." You gently twist my nipple in your fingers.

"And this is a pinch."

I gasp. The feeling goes straight down through my body and I try to get away.

"You just remember, who is in charge of you."

----

"Spread your legs wider. I know you can, you little slut. You like it, go on."

I try to follow instructions, but it is difficult, being over his lap like this. I wonder what's coming next, knowing I don't have long to find out.

"Dearest, I can smell you from here. Is this turning you on?" You pause to listen to my response. "What was that? I can't seem to hear you."

I bury my head in the pillows, blushing like mad, as you know full well how I feel about this. I try to get by with a muffled "Mhm," but you're having none of it.

You grab my hair. "What was that, little lady?"

"Yes, sir," I respond.

"That's a good girl."

Dialogue

2008-05-08T23:04:00.001-05:00

The light is dim in your room and we’re sitting there, each reading our own books, in our own little worlds, when you turn to me and say, “I like doing naughty things to you.”

I shiver. “What kinds of naughty things?”

“I don’t know, you tell me, what kinds of naughty things do I do to you?”

I pause. I don’t like saying any of these words out loud. “You….spank me.”

“That’s right. And what else do I do, when I’m feeling horny and want to use you?”

“You shove your penis into my mouth.”

“Almost. What do I do?”

“You shove your…cock into my mouth.”

“Ah, there it is. Now, what else do I do?”

“You tell me what to do, tell me to beg, and I do it, and I like it.”

“That’s right. Now, tell me what you want me to do right now.”

I pause. It’s harder when I’m not talking in the abstract, but in the here and now. But I am so deliciously wet and feeling so tingly and turned on that I say, “I want you to kiss me, and I want you to grab my ass, and I want you to fuck me. Hard.”

“I can do that."

And then you kiss me, and grab my ass, and fuck me. Hard.

Cupid

2008-02-16T00:28:00.002-06:00

We're spooning, naked, on the bed and you had, for the last few minutes, been using your free hand to tease my nipples, when you whisper in my ear, "I want you to masturbate for me, right now, as a Valentine's Day present."

I turn around and start to open my mouth but you give me a look that says, don't even bother, you're not getting out of this one. "And then, when you're done, I'm going to spank your ass so it's the same color red as that card you gave me." I squirm a little. So not fair. But so hot.

"Well, get on with it!" I turn over on my back, my hand reaching towards my underwear to pull them off. I was pretty wet from your teasing and I knew I would be having no problems following your directive.

My hand reaches towards my pussy, finds my clit and starts rubbing in small circles around it, just like I like to do when I'm alone. I give a little whimper, I wish you were doing this, but you're just watching, looking at me, probably thinking about how much you love to embarrass me and make me squirm.

"Little slut, you like touching yourself in front of me, don't you? You're so naughty you just love showing off. Look at my hard cock, watch what you're doing to me." You say, as you reach down and pull your boxers off. I rub harder, my other hand moving up and finding one of my nipples, pinching hard, oh so good.

I could probably come from what I am doing right now, but I stick one of my fingers in my pussy, loving the feeling, wanting more, adding another finger. I whine a little, I want you to help me, but I know you won't. "Please." I say the one word with all the meaning in the world.

"Please what, little slut?" You say, more as a statement than a question, as if you know what's going to come out of my mouth next, in fact, you probably do.

"Please touch me, please." I feel that if you don't touch me, I might explode.

You shake your head, that's definitely not happening. I am so close to coming, and you can tell. "Stop." You say.

"Oh!" I gasp. I move my hands quickly to my sides.

You grab me, pull me over to you, closer and within arms reach. You start smacking my ass, in a nice rhythm, smack on one side, smack on the other, back and forth, back and forth, until it starts to hurt just the tiniest bit. I wriggle on your lap a bit, moving my hips so my ass is higher, directly in the way of your hand, I want you to hit right there, yes, that's the spot. Back and forth, smack, smack, and I am so horny and frustrated. "Please, please." I beg. You so like it when I beg.

A few more. All of a sudden your hand is in between my legs. "Oh my, little girl, you are so wet, naughty little slut, you liked that, didn't you? So deliciously wet." You feed your fingers into my mouth. I suck on them eagerly. At this point I'd do anything for you to let me come. All of a sudden you are slamming two of your fingers in and out of my pussy, and spanking my ass with your other hand, and I am deep into my orgasm and having the best Valentine's Day of my life.

Meeting

2008-02-07T23:04:00.000-06:00

I got off the train, and there you were on the platform. I spotted you, and walked over shyly. We embraced, and you gave me the kind of kiss that can be described with words I usually reserve for romance novels, deep, passionate, the kind of kiss the told me exactly how much you missed me, even without the words. We walked over to your car. You had brought your camera, you told me, and you wanted to take pictures of me. There was this park over by the lake that you thought would be a good place.

We drive over there, making small talk, I don't really know what to say. We get there, this little park by a river. It's the fall, and the leaves are turning colors and crunching underneath our feet. We go and sit on a bench. You snap some pictures, make some comment about how beautiful I am. I laugh.

We get up and walk around, admiring the wonderful autumn weather and the late afternoon sun. You stop, and we start kissing. The surroundings make this kiss so perfect, everything that a kiss should be. One hand is behind my head, holding my hair, one hand at the small of my back, pushing me closer. I'm hugging you as if I'm never going to let go. Your hands move down to the waistband of my pants, slipping them in. You grab my ass, knowing that always turns me on. Somebody's dog runs by, we suddenly separate. We meander over to a little shed on the edge of the park. Ducking behind it, next thing I know you've grabbed my hair, and pushed me down to my knees. You unzip your pants and I know what's next.

Dear readers, I apologize for leaving you hanging. This post, in some incarnation, has been in the draft stage for as long as it's been since my last post. I, however, can just not write an ending. It's the dirty talk again. It's totally out to get me.

Visit

2008-01-19T01:08:00.001-06:00

I was watching TV, which I don't normally do, but I was nervous and anxious for you to get here. Maybe it's because you told me exactly what to be wearing, or rather, not wearing, when you walked in the door. You called a bit ago to tell me you had gotten off the plane and now were on your way to my place.

I shivered. Despite the July heat, I was a little chilly. I told myself it was all in my head. It was, after all. The phone rings. It's the front desk people downstairs. "Yes, of course, let him up please. Thank you."

A short while later, a knock on the door. I go answer it, even though it's unlocked. You come in, set your bags aside, and give me a hug. A nice hug, before your hand moves down my back, down the the skirt I'm wearing. A nice little jean skirt, you think it's really cute on me. You hand creeps up underneath it, checking. "Very nice." You say. "I see you can follow directions."

I ask if I can get you anything to drink. Sure. Something cold. I go into the kitchen, you follow, making me feel very conscious of myself, what I'm wearing, what are you thinking? You watch as I turn my back to the freezer to get ice, and start to pour you some water from a pitcher from the fridge. I feel you behind me. I set the glass down, turn, we kiss. Five seconds later your hand is up my skirt again. "So wet. You like sitting around in your apartment like this, don't you?" I mumble some response. I'm not one to answer self-incriminating questions like that one.

Now your other hand is up my practically non-existent tank top. "Oh fuck it." You say. The tank top is soon on the ground. We go sit in the living room again. Turn off the TV. Don't need the noise, you say, because you, little girl, will be making plenty. The fact that my room mate might walk in any second is exciting too. She said she probably wouldn't be back for the night, but you never know with her.

I love touching you, tasting you, having your hands on me, soon, I'm not wearing any clothes. "You forgot to bring me my water, dear, could you go get it?" I try not to look at the uncovered floor to ceiling windows on the other side of the room as I walk to the kitchen. I bring back the water, and you're not wearing anything either.

I sit down on the couch next to you. Hand you the water glass. You have a nice long drink. Back to kissing me now. And really, the evening is just beginning.

Dirty

2008-01-15T22:37:00.001-06:00

So maybe I have a dirty mind but...

Can anybody else think of other words that might fit in these lyrics? (Song by Alanis Morissette, Head Over Feet.)
"Your love is thick and it swallowed me whole"

The version running through my head all day:
"Your cock is thick and I swallowed it whole"

If

2008-01-13T01:21:00.000-06:00

I saw you on the bus the other day. I tried to give you 'the look' but you apparently weren't getting it. Although, I don't know how much more blatantly obvious I could have been. I practically said, get off at my stop and .... well, you fill in the rest.

Maybe you did see me, after all. You were so cute. So confident. I wish you had followed me off the bus, up to my apartment, walked in the door, pushed me up against the wall and kissed me. Long and hard, making me drop all my stuff around me on the floor, my body responding to yours. I would have pulled you to my bedroom, and you would have grabbed me and sat me on my desk. We would have kept kissing, hands wandering freely over each other.

You would have stepped back, looked at me, all frazzled and I would have slowly, seductively, pulled my shirt off. Next my bra would fall to the floor, and you would lose your shirt, too. We'd climb onto the bed, pulling off pants as we go, me touching you, you touching me. At that point, you could have grabbed my hair, pushed my face down to your cock, and I would have eagerly started going down on you. You could have played with my nipples, and I'd beg for your cock.

You, however, wouldn't say a word, just shaking your head yes or no. How you'd tease me, your hands moving up and down my body, touching softly in one place, smacking hard in another. Your tongue would find my clit, and I'd come at once, not being able to handle such pleasure. I'd suck on you until you came all over me, and you'd get up, slowly put your clothes back on, and leave. All without saying a word.

Writing

2008-01-07T22:54:00.000-06:00

It's hard to write a blog of fantasies when you've never actually come close to experiencing any of them. Well, I suppose that's not true: I have gotten ex-boyfriends to spank me, and one boyfriend once talked about what he called my "submissive tendencies" however, for some reason that is beyond me, he never took advantage of them. Men.

Plus, there are other problems like the fact that I can't talk dirty. I have never been able to talk dirty. Half the time, I can't even say "cock" without giggling like a 13 year old in Health class after the teacher says "penis." (That being said, I do like cocks an awful lot. I suppose that's what happens when you're a slut, huh.) I don't like saying "tits" and I have serious problems mustering up the word "pussy," even when in bed.

So combined with the fact that I have nothing in real life to go off of, and can't talk dirty to save my life, I come up with wonderful starts to stories, but when it gets to the actual, smack smack part, or the actual cock in pussy part, I've got problems.

That being said, I've written a wonderful beginning to a story. At least, wonderful in my opinion. Enjoy!

"Seriously, though, you have been a brat too much for me to just let it go this time." He said.

My mouth dry, I nodded. I had known I was crossing the line with that statement. What can I say? Sometimes my mouth runs away from me. And when it does, we usually end up in this situation, me feeling chagrined, and him disappointed.

As if he knew what I was thinking, he started talking again. "You have no idea how disappointed in you I am. I know you can behave better. I expect better from a smart girl like you. This has got to stop."

A brief pause, making me feel even worse, and then more. "Well, you know what the consequences for your behavior are going to be, don't you?" I know. Oh, how I know.

"Wait right here for me, and don't move a muscle. Think about what a little snot you are, and how very sorry you are, or at the very least, will be, when I'm finished with you." Ah-ha. The dreaded words.

Solutions

2008-01-06T22:57:00.000-06:00

So, having spent the weekend traveling, I've come across what I think might be a solution to any problems in airports.

Spanking! (Who would have guessed, right?) Think about it. For every item you have in your carry-on that shouldn't go through security, ten smacks to the ass with your feet on those little foot outlines where they usually wand people might discourage you from doing it again. And every minute you hold somebody up boarding because of your monstrosity of a bag, the flight attendant gets to strap you with the example seatbelt they use for the safety demonstration.

Then the only problems you have are the people who like spanking....

Control

2008-01-03T17:22:00.000-06:00

I was talking to one of my bosses today, a 30 year old guy who's pretty cool. He asked about the holidays, I broke the news that my boyfriend and I had split up. Why? Some stupid petty little argument. In the end, it's probably for the better. My ex-boyfriend had a rather limp personality, always trying too hard to get people to like him, I think. We had fought a lot, for many reasons, but the main ones being I was unhappy because he was so devoid of emotion sometimes, him because I was too demanding.

Moi? Damanding? Oh wait. I suppose I am a little high maintenance. Only a little though.

But anyways, as my boss and I sat there, chatting about boys and life (I didn't really do any actual work) he asked if I found that I was attracted to men like my father. No, I shook my head. My dad's rather shy, closed in, very quiet unless you know him. I tend to be attracted to men with a more commanding presence, louder men. My boss said, Oh? So you can hear them talking over you?

Right. So I am loud, myself. And that's exactly why I want somebody who has a strong, colorful, dominating personality. I need somebody who can stand up to me when I'm being a brat, who won't let me walk all over them. Somebody who can handle the fact that I will probably be their intellectual equal, but that I don't necessarily want to have an equal share of power in our relationship.

While I shouldn't blame somebody for letting me walk all over them, at the same time, there's a fine line between "Whatever will make you happy, honey" and "Stop being so demanding!" Had my ex-boyfriend just started not giving me choices, I wouldn't have argued (most of the time), but his need to include me on every little decision, from where we would go to dinner to what time we'd meet at the library was tiring. Had he taken more of a part in being in charge of the relationship, I wouldn't have, couldn't have, and I would have deferred that power to him.

And while I value my independence, and don't necessarily know that I could give up all of it, there are some times when I just want somebody else to be in charge. I don't want to have to wear the pants in any kind of a relationship (whether boyfriend/girlfriend or husband/wife), and while I do appreciate having my opinion taken into account, it's just not that important to me to be consulted on every single issue.

So that's why I want a more dominant man. Because I am going to need somebody by my side who can handle me and not get steam-rolled in the process, somebody who respects my intelligence but can still be in control, somebody whose idea of love isn't just to give me everything I want.

Resolutions For 2008

2008-01-01T18:29:00.000-06:00

Dreams

2007-12-30T13:52:00.000-06:00

I was wearing this dress. A little cute red dress, with a white Peter Pan collar and a low waist, just like a dress a 7 year old would wear. I'm wearing white knee socks, with, I imagine, ruffles at the tops. And black patent leather Mary Jane's. Of course.

There's a man in a chair. I suppose I know who this man is, but I don't really look at him in this dream. I know a spanking is coming though. I can feel it between my legs, the excitement. I doubt I'll be too excited over his lap, though.

I wait, and wait, and wait. I wonder what I'm waiting for. Until finally he beckons me over. No words are needed, just a simple hand gesture. I stare intently at the chair. Maybe he'll go away. After all, it is my dream, why am I being punished? (Maybe because it turns me on? Damn subconscious.) It's a wooden chair, with a high, straight back, I could even tell you the color (a light wood, no varnish) and an intricate design on the back.

Suddenly, I am there, in front of him. How did that happen so quickly? Turned upside down, over his lap, dress up, white little girl underwear pulled down, smack smack smack, what is it you say, little one? Thank you, Sir. May I please have some more?

Memories

2007-12-29T23:03:00.000-06:00

When I was younger, playing with my friends, I always wanted to be 'the bad one'. The games my friends, mainly my best friend, and I would play always ran along the lines of school teacher and naughty student. We had one where one of us was an alien and the other a captured human in the alien spaceship. In that one, the human (usually me, because I insisted) acted up, tried to escape and ended up getting in trouble, hands tied by hair ties and made to sit at the end of the bed while awaiting punishment by the alien leader, who was always an absent figure (we didn't have any guy friends). Similar things happened when we played school. I was always a student acting up and being 'put against the wall' or other, similar punishments.

Then there were the games that I played myself. These always ran along the lines of being an orphan, stuck in an orphanage, made to do manual labor and getting in trouble for not being fast enough. After eighth grade, it was always me getting captured, for what, I never really thought about, but using the afghan I made myself as a net. My stuffed animals were usually in charge and I would have to lie still, or bow to the imaginary people in charge.

While I didn't know it at the time, I definitely know now that I was aroused by these games. I would hang on the pole of my bunk bed, as long as my hand could handle it, which I now recognize as pressing my clit against the pole. I knew it was bad, I felt naughty doing it, but that didn't stop me, instead, I did it more and more.

Now it almost makes me laugh to remember these things, to remember what I did as a child, how these imaginings probably would still turn me on. I only recently fully remembered all this, and I wonder what kind of part it plays in my feelings now. I'm still trying to figure this all out, and these memories help me think about how far back I've been having these submissive feelings. When I was a child, I clearly did not wish to be slutty, I didn't even have a clue that any of these feelings were sexual, but I did know I wanted to be naughty and get punished. Funny how long these feelings can last....

Hard Questions

2007-12-28T17:27:00.000-06:00

Someone recently asked me what it was about spanking that turns me on so much. It was a really hard question to answer, because I had never been asked it before, nor had I thought about it much. Generally when I think about spanking, I don't stop to analyze all my deepest and dirtiest little desires. But that question got me thinking. It made me wonder, too, what is it about being submissive turns me on? Why do some things get me all hot, bothered and wet while some things make me want to run far, far away? Why do I want somebody to call Sir in the bedroom, why do I want somebody to call me their little slut?

I responded to the spanking question by saying it was the humiliation that turns me on. I feel that is partially true, but not the whole truth. It was all the truth I had at the time. Thinking about it, though, I also said that it was the feeling that here was somebody who wasn't going to deal with my bullshit, and do something about it. I feel like maybe spanking isn't the 'disease', as it were, but just a symptom (this is a terrible analogy but I am at a loss for a better one). Maybe it's not the act of spanking that turns me on, per se, but instead, the idea that someone will be doing the spanking. I've tried many times to spank myself, with no effects, generally ending up less turned on after these forays than before I started.

I've wondered, in the past, if my desire to submit to somebody (generally a desire which takes form solely in the bedroom) was because of my sexual inexperience. Maybe I thought it would just make the whole experience of hooking up with somebody easier to navigate. For instance, how much easier would it be if the boy who was in bed with me wasn't stopping every thirty seconds and asking "How's this" or, "Do you want more or less of this" or "Tell me what feels good". I don't like those kinds of questions, and I've always tried to dissuade boyfriends/hook-up buddies from asking them in the past. They frustrate me, because I just want to say, Look, if I didn't like it, I'd tell you to stop. I haven't always known exactly what it is I like (I'm getting there), and those questions were almost embarrassing, because I couldn't answer them. This is similar to guys who apparently don't know if they want a blow job. None of this "You only have to do it if you want to" bullshit. Like, what? You don't like it when I go down there? Can't you just tell me what you want? Why is it always up to me?

The problem with that theory is that the more experienced I've become (which still isn't much, but equal to any of my partners) the desires I have, to be spanked and dominated, aren't going away, they're becoming stronger. I was embarrassed when a previous boyfriend commented (negatively) on his room mate's habit of wanting to be tied up while having sex, because that's something I want to do, even if he didn't know it. I want somebody to do it with me. I want somebody who wants to do it.

Maybe wanting to be spanked is just one way of expressing my want to have somebody who's more dominant in bed. Maybe my wanting to be tied up, or be made to give a blow job just comes from my want to have somebody who will do those things. Because, if I found that person, I would want to make them happy, because if they were happy, I'd be happy, too.

So we find ourselves back at the original question. What is it about spanking that turns me on so much? The way I feel his tone of voice will be, the way I want to be dressed, how I am not in control of what will happen, even though it is my fault we're in that position in the first place, the humiliation of being put over his knee when I am an adult, the feeling of being chastised, the feeling of how I should know better and of course, the feeling of his hand on my bare ass.

Waiting

2007-12-25T21:35:00.000-06:00

Really, just once (although if I enjoy it, maybe more), I would like to be blindfolded, tied up and made to wait for you. You'd make sure I knew not to move or make any noise. I think that I might not be able to stand it, being that silence is almost impossible for me. I can't handle the quiet. I think that knowing that you want me to wait because I don't want to wait would turn me on even more.

You come in, fully dressed and watch me for a while. I'd know you're watching, of course, because I'd hear your breathing getting heavier as you thought about how sexy I look, lying there, naked.

Next, I'd like you to start talking to me, saying dirty things, telling me how sexy I look, how you just want to take me right there, that very instant, but you'll refrain, about how I'm a naughty little slut, wanting to be tied up like that, wanting to be at your mercy, about how much you're going to make me want you, want you so bad I'll scream from frustration.

I'm squirming before you even come over and start to touch me. I'd love it if you teased me a little, with any of the following items: ice, feathers, a vibrator, nipple clamps, your fingers, your lips. Teasing, teasing your way down my face, to my breasts, to my stomach, to...

And then you'd just leave me. I'd like that.

In Command

2007-12-21T20:44:00.000-06:00

I want to be wearing a short skirt. I have a really cute one, actually, brown with pleats and buttons that open up the entire thing into one long piece of fabric. It looks really good with my blue polo shirt and brown flats. I want you to chose that outfit, even if it's hard for you to put me in clothes (you know you'll just be taking them off later).

I want to feel a little bad about how I was kind of a snot earlier. I want you to tell me that you expect better. More respect. But I don't want it in that wishy-washy-let's-share-our-feelings voice. I want it in a commanding voice. In a, I-don't-actually-care-about-your-opinion voice. In a voice that makes me worried and hot at the same time.

I want to wonder what you'll do next. I want you to take a few deep breaths and pause. Look at me until I can't look back and just stare at my shoes. I want you to send me to the corner (God, how I hated that when I was a child) and I want you to read your book, or type on the computer, making me know that I'm not everything, and you can wait.

I want to wait a little, I want to worry you've forgotten about me (although, how can that be possible?) and I want you to call me over. One word, just my name. I want to feel butterflies in my stomach. You say you can't ever spank me for being bad, because I like it so much, but I think if you tried, I wouldn't like it eventually.

I want you to actually pull me over your knee (we haven't done that yet) maybe in the living room but not in the horrible chair in my room with arms, and sit there for a minute, lecturing me again, pulling up my skirt, pulling down my panties (if I'm wearing any in the first place, I would like to be, exclusively for the purpose of you pulling them down). I want to be startled the first time your hand meets my ass, come to the quick realization that this isn't foreplay, it's the real thing.

I want to cry, and beg you to stop, and I want you to keep going. I want you to be strong and fierce and act like a real man. I want you to give me what I deserve, because seriously, let's face it: I am quite the brat sometimes.

Anticipation

2007-12-17T00:01:00.000-06:00

I'm sleeping on my stomach, like usual, when you wake me up with a little smack on my ass. I turn around sleepily, mumbling something or another about it not being time to wake up yet. I had slept naked last night, and you think I look pretty cute. Your hands start wandering, and then next thing I know, you have your tongue on my clit. You're sucking and licking, and I am of course enjoying this attention quite a bit. Then, all of a sudden, you're gone from between my legs. Getting up, you head toward your bathroom, and next thing I know, you're in the shower.

"Hey! That's not fair!" I groan.
"Of course it is, honey. I just wanted to give you a little taste of what's going to come later...."

Throughout my entire morning, all I could think about was your tongue on my clit. I thought about how nice it would be to have your fingers in me, and how sexy you were in bed with me naked. Mmmm, I couldn't wait.

We meet up for lunch in a coffee shop. As we're sitting together on a couch, you put your hand on my thigh, pretty close to where I wanted you to touch me when we were in bed. You turn to my ear, kissing my neck on the way. "I can't wait to have you in bed, my dear. I've been hard all morning thinking about the naughty things I'm going to do to you. I can't decide whether I'm going to slip my fingers in and out of you gently, or pound you hard. I want to hear you scream in ecstasy in my bed tonight." I shiver. A poor girl can't even have a moment to cool down, it seems!

Later, you send me a text. "All I can think about is you, topless, lying underneath me." All of a sudden, my nipples get hard. I blame it on the cold weather.

We finally get to your apartment that night. I'm practically dripping. You've kept me wet all day with the anticipation. We kiss, long and hard. You step back, and slowly start to unbutton your shirt. I come over and help, kneeling down to undo your belt buckle and pants. I pull out your cock, it's size amazing me as always, it being hard and ready for me. I play with you in my mouth a bit before you pull me up. We take my clothes off and land in bed.

"Mmmm, honey." I manage to say while you're focusing all your attentions on my pert pink nipples. "God, you're so good, so amazing, oh yes, keep doing that." I'm practically melting under your tongue. Your hand drifts down my stomach, finally stopping and resting on my mound. I want you to keep moving that hand downward, and I wiggle my hips a little, trying to tell you that.

You understand what I'm wordlessly trying to say. "Not yet, dearest. You're not ready for it yet." More playing with my tits, and I don't think I can handle anymore. "Oh! Please!" I whimper. "Please, what?" You taunt gently. "What do you want, my dear?" I moan, knowing full well that you know what I want, and you like making me say it as much as I hate saying it.

"Well, since you aren't telling me, looks like we'll just do what I want right now. Turn over!" You command. "Oh, why?" I whine. "Because I want to spank you, that's why!" I turn over. You quickly focus on the task at hand, which right now is making my bottom red.

"You've been a naughty little girl, haven't you? Thinking of all those dirty little fantasies. Writing them up for me to read! You even admitted that you were horny all last weekend! My, you're quite the little slut, aren't you? My little slut. You need to be punished."

You pause, taking the opportunity to slip your hands down between my legs. My pussy is soaking, waiting for you to slip one finger, two fingers inside it. You do, making me gasp, wanting more. You slide your fingers in and out a little, pushing a bit, knowing that this little bit will just make me want it more. You stop, abruptly.

"Oh! Don't stop!" I say. Your hand moves up to my clit. Rubbing around it in circles, you ask again what I want. This time, I'm more than willing to tell you. "I want you, I want your fingers inside me."

"Hm?" You ask, thoughtfully, calmly. "My fingers?" All of a sudden, two of your fingers are inside me and you're moving them in and out quickly, doing exactly what I like, getting me so close. "Oh my god! I'm almost there." I whisper.

You take out your fingers, smacking my ass again, hard. I moan. "Not yet, naughty girl. Bad girls like you deserve to be teased and punished before they get their reward. It would help if you asked politely."

"Oh please, I'll be good, I promise, oh please put your fingers inside me, I want them so bad, oh please." I don't think I can wait any longer. You go back and forth, smacking my ass and teasing my clit some more, for good measure. You finally decide I can reach the end that I want.

"I want you to suck my cock, little slut." I eagerly pull myself close to your crotch, pulling your cock into my mouth as you rub my clit with your index finger. I swirl my tongue around, making you sigh with pleasure. I lift my head up, switching to my hand to put you over the edge. You slip your fingers into me again: one, two, three when I say I need more. Back and forth, in and out, faster and faster, in perfect sync with each other. Soon, I'm gasping and screaming with pleasure, and then you're telling me to suck up your cum as you reach your peak as well.

We lie back, both exhausted, finally ready to go to bed.

Attempt

2007-12-16T12:20:00.001-06:00

I'm trying so hard to get this blog up and running after having this name for over a year, I think. I hope some posts will materialize soon. Meanwhile, thanks for being patient.

Previous Tag-lines

2007-12-15T15:44:00.003-06:00

I'll update this post as I get more creative with my blog's tag-line.

Retired March 09:

I kiss my mother with this mouth.

Retired November 09:

Not your normal plain Jane.

Retired January 11:

I try to contain myself.