As many of you will know I enjoy getting involved in Sinful Sunday, while it is a great place to share images and find inspiration for new ways to create my own images, every now and then it inspires a blog post too. This time it is the wonderful image from Love is a Paraphilia. I was a bit stumped for a Masturbation Monday post this week, life has got a lot going on and I think a little bit of writer’s block set in towards the end of last week. But I couldn’t stop musing on the idea of discarded Polaroids being found in an old and derelict building, so I let my mind run with it and this is what came of that inspiration.
The old manor house had always been in a state of disrepair, new owners that purchased it but never saw fit to renovate let it move into derelict territory. As it lay abandoned it was impossible not to imagine what it could once have been, what memories must lie within its walls, as I stood in front of it I recalled the experiences I had there myself before it had fallen to be the ruin it now was.
We were young, adventurous and definitely thrill seekers, we engaged in what many people would consider ‘bedroom activities’ in a myriad of places, and rarely were any of them even close to a bedroom. Even as the seasons changed, and bright summer days gave way to autumn leaves and winter frosts we could still be found cavorting outside in various states of undress exploring the most intimates parts of one another.
The word fiasco didn’t even begin to cover the shit show that was unravelling in front of Elly. She had thought she was at the helm of all the deceit and mayhem. It turns out she was as clueless as Jay. Poor Jay. He’d had his faults, but he did not deserve the torture Richard and Ben had put him through. No one deserved that, except perhaps Richard and Ben.
They thought they were so clever, putting all the pieces together, erring on the side of caution that Elly wasn’t all she seemed and that her interest in Richard might not be genuine. If only Ben hadn’t seen that rare picture of her and her mother that she’d tagged Richard in after he’d made an irritating number of enquiries as to what she looked like. It was Ben seeing that photo that ruined everything, he and Richard had connected far too many dots and when Elly reached out to Ben it was the confirmation they needed that she was plotting against her husband.
I pause to take in the sight before me. He’s bloody, bruised and battered. This beautiful boy of mine is not a masochist, yet here he stands having barely flinched at the pain I have inflicted upon him. I never imagined he would fall this deep. That our new explorations would work so well, that the 3, 2, 1 of erotic hypnosis would actually work. Though I didn’t count him down. There was no swinging watch face, or flourishes to entertain a watching crowd.
There was just he and I as I guided him into a new state of being. Through fields of glorious colour. Shade after shade pictured in his mind and as he moved into each vivid colours he was straying further from himself and further into me. When he reached the end, and the colour he saw was a bright burning white, instead of needed to shield his eyes from it, he felt comfort and safety and he walked into that light, into me and fell deep under my spell.
Content Warning: Kidnap, Captive Woman, Non-Consent, Humiliation, Degradation. Please do not read if you think any of these things might be triggering for you x
He doesn’t lock the door. He used to lock it religiously. The realisation that he knows he no longer needs to lock me in fills me with shame.
Shame makes my cunt ache with need.
Rope is used to bind me, but it is a loose tie. I can use my toilet, and move around my surroundings, but I would not be able to walk with any efficiency, and I certainly would not be able to run. More importantly though the amount of movement I have means I can reach my cunt, I move my fingers there and find it is still swollen from use, and his ejaculate drips from me, sticky and warm.
This is part 5 of my Friday Flash serial. I have now renamed all previous parts so they are easier to read in order. Jo and Cam are now affectionately known as the Friday Girls and their adventure will be ongoing for as long as they are having fun. You can find there rest of their adventures here.
‘If you want to stop, for any reason, say red. That’s your safeword, a sign from you to me, that something isn’t quite right and we need to stop playing, immediately. Do you understand?’
Her yes is loud and clear, and with an albeit very minimal safety talk covered, I feel like I can proceed with the somewhat unexpected turn our day has taken.
I position her on the bed, knees spread, head down, hands resting beside her face. She looks glorious, and very accessible, which is always a bonus. My hands roam freely across her body, every now and again I feel her body tense in anticipation of what I might do, she is clearly a little nervous, but the overwhelming feeling in the room is one of desire.
A follow on piece from this weeks #MasturbationMonday piece ‘Reading, Interrupted‘, because I just had too much fun with them to leave their story as it was.
My heart pounded in my chest, seemingly louder than my knocking at her door. My earlier bravado was slipping away from me; what if the chemistry between us just wasn’t there in person. What if, what if, what if. So many maybes plagued my mind but before any of them could take hold and truly ruin everything she was standing before me.
She looked as bedraggled as I’d imagined her being when I’d hung up the phone, a benefit perhaps of me living so close, was that she’d had very little time to compose herself. We stood in silence once I’d entered her flat, and I wondered if she’d even washed her juices from her fingers, or if I’d smell her scent lingering upon their litheness if I lifted them to my nose.
She sounded out of breath as she answered the phone, I wondered if I’d interrupted her running errands, or doing housework, she said she was just doing some reading before she ran herself a bath though and that she had time to chat. As our conversation moved on I wondered what she had been reading, I personally love a good horror story, and many of them have made me breathless, I assumed, naively, she had experienced the same.
‘What book were you reading, before I rudely interrupted?’
‘Don’t be silly, I said you weren’t interrupting and it’s just a book of romance stories, nothing too adventurous.’
You look at me eyes wide and your mouth open, you’re being such good boy. Well the eye contact makes you a good boy, the open mouth just means the gag is doing its job. Keeping your mouth open and accessible to me at all times.
Your eyes sparkle with a mixture of excitement and trepidation! Is it just a threat? Part of the tease and something to add to the intensity of our scene. Or do I really mean to do it this time!
I straddle you and bound as you are you are unable to do much more than attempt to wriggle! I watch as your chest heaves as your breathing speeds up and your eyes fix on my cunt! The cunt you love so much, you’ve licked it, fucked it, fingered it, made it gush, made it clench, made me scream in delight at the attention you’ve paid it. Never have you drowned beneath it though.
Never has my warm, wet piss flowed over you. Drenching you in my scent, marking you as Mine.
Never until now!
I position myself above your mouth and I watch as your body tenses and your eyes are forced wider still by the uncertainty you now face! I suspect part of you doesn’t want to watch, but that part of you that aches for me to do unspeakable things to you is delighted by the prospect of my warm golden stream filling your mouth.
I’m poised, ready and even I wonder if someday is going to be today. If the urge have you taste me in a new way will be fulfilled. I don’t know when this desire became more than a tease, more than a threat to heighten your experience while we played. When, I wonder, did it become overwhelming and magnificent in its appeal.
I feel my muscles clench and release. Someday is today and I watch as a stream of piss flows onto your chin. I gauge the reaction in your eyes and the slightly horrified sparkle tells me I can go further. I tilt my pelvis ever so slightly, clenching my muscles to stop the flow and releasing to fill your mouth.
Filling your mouth is actually just gracing your tongue with a small but delicious quantity! You can’t close your mouth to swallow and I watch as your tongue moves awkwardly to allow your throat access to this new and addictive nectar.
A full and well prepared bladder means I can change position once more, this time strong and continuous upon your chest. The ropes that bind you are darkening as they absorb in a way your skin can not. My eyes follow the lines and knots of the rope works across your body and I notice how my flowing piss trickles across your flesh. My eyes are drawn downwards to your cock and if ever there was a doubt that your arousal for this matches my own, your cock, hard, twitching and eager removes all doubt.
My cunt finally stops in its mission to drench you because the mission has been completed with great success. My fingers wrap around your erection, and all I can think about is turning you into a wetter and messier pile of ruination. As always my hand is exceptionally efficient in making this happen.
You grunt, groan and shudder your way to orgasm, all louder and more forceful than normal as they escape through your open mouth which is still forced open by the gag, drool has also found its way to freedom making your chin shiny with saliva and this further fuels my need to see your belly covered in your own spunk. My hand begins its final sprint towards your climax and I am not disappointed.
You come hard, it looks violent and painful as it creates pleasurable havoc within you and forces the fruits of my labour from your body in hot, messy spurts. As I hoped for, you are covered, belly to chest, you are a beautiful sticky, wet mess.
I remove your gag and kiss you, and you pull back a little, worried that you are covered or drool or might taste like piss. None of that matters to me though. I straddle you, feeling your spunk soaking through my flimsy excuse for a dress, as I hold your face between my hands and kiss you with as much passion with which you came.
Someday was today and today was deliciously depraved.
This blog post was inspired by this weeks Wicked Wednesday prompt of ‘Someday’. Please follow the link below to see who else has submitted and leave them some love.
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Content Warning: Themes of Humiliation and Degradation included
‘It’s frivolous. You’re frivolous. Don’t you realise some us struggle to pay our bills each month.’
The conversation was always the same with Jane, I wouldn’t mind so much if she wasn’t nursing a rather expensive bottle of wine as we spoke, and if there was even truth in nature of a my frivolity.
‘What is your indiscretion?’ I hear you cry. I must confess, I have a cleaner. At least this is what Jane thinks. What I actually have though is a willing and consenting submissive, who gains an awful lot of pleasure of being allowed to do various household tasks for me, in exchange I reward her for her good behaviour. She’s adorable and eager to please which means my house is always spotless. She also has a variety of cleaning outfits that without fail brighten my day when I see them.
On Monday I discussed in my Masturbation Monday post how I am trying to challenge myself as a writer. There are certain things I rarely so as a writer. I rarely if ever name my characters, and I am not great at writing pieces that follow on from one another. I thought my recent involvement in #friflash might be a really good place to stretch myself with regards to those things and it would be remiss of me not to mention that F Dot Leanora who runs the prompt, actually is one of the people who inspired me to give this a go.
Again I ask you to bear with me while I flex my creative muscles. Things may not always be as well rounded as some of my previous pieces, but I hope over time they will start to become better as I familiarise myself with new ways to write. You may also like to read Part 1 of this serial.
My hands shook as I dialled her number. I could have sent a text, but I couldn’t handle waiting for a response. Plus I wanted to hear her voice, and I needed to hear the tone with which she responded to my question.
She answered quickly, sure and clear with her hello, the unknown number didn’t fluster her like it would have done me.
‘Hi .. it’s .. errr, me .. from the cafe.’
‘Oh hello errrmefromthecafe. I’m so happy you called.’