Tag: Erotica

Erotica – Addressing His Needs

SinfulSundayLips150I often mention Sinful Sunday on my blog, either when submitting and image or as part of #SoSS posts when I am able to do them. When perusing the submissions for the first weekend of June, which was prompt week, one particular image inspired a line of thinking that ended up being a full blown story. Cousin Pons posted a picture of his feet titled ‘Underneath the Arches‘, and it got me to pondering what a story where a man feet were the catalyst for action. While that isn’t necessarily the story I ended up with, I am actually very fond of the piece of fiction below that did transpire from that initial idea. Thank you Cousin Pons for triggering some inspiration and very much hope you don’t mind me mentioned you image as my starting point for this piece.


Dinner has been served and devoured. As always his culinary skills are only outdone by his commitment to serving me. He works long days, as well as performing his duties for me, and it is appreciated that he never waivers in what is asked of him. He is instructed to sit and relax for a few moments while I prepare myself for our session.

When I return to him he has fallen asleep. Dozing peacefully in his favourite chair, his feet resting on the large footstool in front of him.

I am in charge. My will becomes his with every command I give. If I wake him now and inform him that we are continue our evening session as planned I know he will obey my wishes, without complaint, no matter how tired he is.

As I look upon him though I decide that a change of plan is in order. Moments later my hand is swirling in bubbly bath water and my massage oils are gathered on the side waiting to be put to use. Once the bath is ready, slightly hotter than necessary so it can cool while we busy ourselves with other things, I head downstairs to continue with our evening.

He is still dozing when I warm the oils between my palms, before slowly smoothing my chosen scent onto his feet! My touch begins to rouse him, and he is soon muttering apologies for falling asleep, for not doing the dishes, for ruining the plans. All of which are appreciated, none of which are needed.

He looks at me with a puzzled expression, clearly wondering what the new plans for this evening are. I simply tell him to relax, as my fingers deftly move around the soles of his feet. Relishing the feel of his flesh beneath my own, reflecting on the beauty of what is mine.

As my hands move up his legs, lingering to massage his calves, I giggle to myself at how backward this scene would seem to some people. The Mistress massaging her slave, the lack of punishment for his audacity to fall asleep. Gentle, loving touches replacing the cruel, ballbusting FemDom image that frequents porn. Many ‘One True Way’ Dominant’s would say the Sadism and control is what being a Dominant is all about but I would disagree,

I can feel his body relaxing beneath my touch, and my eyes are drawn to his cock, straining against his chastity cage. As I reach for the key around my neck and release him, his eyes fly open. The shock of being freed waking him from his docile headspace. His mouth opens to speak, but once again I state that it is my wish for him to relax.

Returning to the massage I spend a long time on his thighs, strong and firm. I remember all the times they’ve been on display, with legs raised, or in doggy style eagerly taking my strapon. The begging, the moaning, the pure unadulterated pleasure that pulses through me as I slide inside him. Now isn’t the time to satisfy that particular desire, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun.

Sufficiently relaxed and zoned out he doesn’t register the removal of leggings and knickers. It is only when my thighs straddle his, in his thankfully spacious arm chair, that he becomes aware of my intentions. His voice hesitant he asks if he can touch me, the spirit of this spontaneous change of plans has me saying yes, adding that he has a free reign to touch me anywhere and everywhere during the session.

His hands grip my bottom as I lower myself onto him and it’s me that is moaning in pleasure now. He responds with more touches, alternating between all the spots that he knows will have me aching greedily for more. His mouth finds my nipples and I hold his head to my breast, stifling his breathing while he sucks and nibbles. He may have been given certain freedoms, but he is still mine to do as I wish with.

Certain liberties are taken though, and we are having so much fun, that saying anything but yes is out of the question. He has gradually made his way to the edge of the chair, and with his hands firmly gripping my arse cheeks to support me he stands up and lowers me down onto the chair, pushing the footstool against it so I can wriggle forward and lie back, my feet propped gently on the edge of the footstool. 

Fingers find their way, tentatively dancing between my folds in case I withdraw his permission to play freely. I don’t though, not today. He wastes no time in bringing me right to the edge of orgasm, and when I fall over that edge, wow do I fall. The combination of pleasure he uses is a heady mix. His finger work and his perfectly place thrusts once he has moved to using his cock, as his hands roughly use my breasts to steady himself, all of this alone would be enough to cause me to climax. His body language though is what truly causes my pleasure to soar today.

Kneeling on the floor his pelvis is perfectly aligned with mine as I lie back on the footstool and armchair, his head is bowed, and as cliche as it sounds, he reminds me of a man at prayer. I am both his Goddess and his Temple in these moments; he enters me, to worship me, to get lost in and find clarity in the belief he has in me and it is beyond a pleasure to be those things for him.

To onlookers, the D/s dynamic we have might be lost on them if they were to see the deep, hard fucking he was giving me, and the bruises that are surely forming from his grip on my breasts will not scream ‘caused by a submissive male’, but the words he manages to utter between heavy breathing and moans of satisfaction tell me everything is just as it should be.

‘Please may I come Mistress.’

With that he raises his head for the first time and holds my gaze, it is always my choice as to whether or not he comes. Sometimes the answer is yes, often the answer is no. I want him to feel that release today though, I want the ripples of orgasmic delight to ricochet through him, to render him spent and incapable of further action.

When his orgasm is complete he flops forwards, his head resting softly at my breast. His tiredness returning, now multiplied by his physical activity, his speech is a whisper, but I hear the words ‘Thank you Mistress’ fall from his lips, his breath tickling against my nipple as they do so.

Despite his tiredness, I rouse him and lead him upstairs. I can see mild hint of concern as to whether or not he will be capable of whatever I ask him, his weariness now thoroughly starting to set in again. When he sees the bath he smiles broadly and simply says; ‘For me?’

I nod my head and usher him forward. He sighs deeply as the water soothes him, it’s warmth penetrating him to his core, just as moments ago he had done to me. Sponge and soap at the ready, I start to wash him, my hands taking occasional detours along my favourite parts of him. We do this in silence as he rests, slowly being beckoned towards sleep once more. I know once he his dry he will fall into bed, and sleep will comes in an instant.

Tomorrow when he wakes he will ask me, as he always does, and as many others have before, and will again, why I do this for him? My answer is simple, caring is not an act of submission, I am not betraying my role as Dominant by looking after him when I see fit to do so. He is mine, I own him, he is my property and my most treasured possession at that. Why would I not care for something  so precious to me? Why would I not ensure that he is fit, healthy and well rested? All of which he needs to be to serve me as beautifully as he does.

In many ways I am at my most Dominant in these moments. Taking charge and doing what needs to be done, at times when he may not realise he needs these things himself.


I am submitting this piece for this weeks Masturbation Monday, if you want to see who else is providing delightful words for your masturbatory pleasure then please do follow the link below.

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Naughty Kitten

I’m not invited into Daddy’s bed tonight. The four poster I am frequently tied to, as flowing drapes hide us from the world. My misdemeanours mean I am to remain on the outside while Daddy entertains our guest.

To start of their evening, dinner was cooked and served by me. Impressed with the dishes I prepared for them Daddy places some kitten treats in my bowl. As always it was placed under the table at Daddy’s feet, when I am finished I rest my head against his lap and wait for further instruction.

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Erotica – Cool Shower – Part 2

A follow on from last weeks Wicked Wednesday piece Cool Shower.

Content Warning: Humiliation and degradation.


‘So … Together or apart?

‘Apart. They’ve enjoyed each other too much today. Time to separate them.’

At our attempts to get on with showering and preparing for lunch, their hands rose into a stop motion and the words ‘don’t you dare move’ were uttered. We both sat motionless on the bed, as the atmosphere in the room shifted.

‘Which one do you want?’

‘Well mine needs a shower, she’s filthy and some punishment for fucking yours. So you take her.’

Continue reading “Erotica – Cool Shower – Part 2”

Erotica – Just Like a Lamb

He is such a good boy. Waiting. Patiently.

He looks fucking glorious, and he is glorious to fuck. Collar on, he kneels in the centre of the room. You arrive first as planned and we continue to adorn him with his accessories of submission. Ankle and wrist cuffs, his harness and for the time being a blindfold and a gag.

Our eyes meet as we stand either side of him and I’m compelled to touch you. The collusion in planning this for him has brought us closer together. I am delighted to find you are as wet as I am as my hand reaches under your skirt. My finger moves between your slick and inviting labia … and the doorbell goes!

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Erotica – Cool Shower

‘It’s too fucking hot. I’m going for beer, anyone coming with?’

‘Count me in.’

With that we were two men down, and it was just us girls keeping each other company. I hadn’t noticed just how sweltering the heat had become, until their departure had pulled my attention away from my almost coma like sunbathing. I become aware of the sweat dripping from my body, and as I look over at you, I realise I am not alone.

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Smut Marathon: My Thoughts (as a reader) on Round 3

IMG_7539.JPGWhen I entered the Smut Marathon I declared that not matter how long I stayed, or more appropriately how soon I left, I would continue to support the other entrants and blog about the contest and I am determined to stick to that.

Part of this is because I believe in supporting and encouraging other writers. However there is a more selfish reason for my continued support and that is personal growth.

I often read through writing memes like Masturbation Monday and Wicked Wednesday when time permits, and I will leave comments where possible on the ones I enjoy most. These are never critiques though, because I don’t believe in offering criticism however constructive, unless it’s asked for.

As I learnt from my two short rounds of the Smut Marathon, feedback is mighty useful, but sometimes hard to take. The usefulness of it far outweighed my discomfort at receiving it though, so I endeavoured to leave as much feedback as possible for the writers that remained in the competition.

My feedback does not come from a place of writing knowledge. I don’t talk about semi colons, line breaks, sentence structure or anything that remotely relates to the actual technical aspects of writing. I will leave that to the Judge(s).

All I can offer in terms of feedback is how I felt, personally, on a completely subjective level about what some wrote. I wondered at first if this would be helpful, and maybe to some people it won’t be, but I know for me it would be, and that is why I decided to offer my honest thoughts on every piece submitted to the last round.

For me, the whole reason I write, especially erotica, is to make people feel something. Sexy is mostly what I’m aiming for, but erotica can do so much more than make someone feel sexy. It can help people accept their kinks and encourage them to explore new-found desires. It can create dialogue between friends, couples and bloggers alike and as this recent round of Smut Marathon has shown it can educate and inform.

In terms of how offering this feedback help my personal growth, well that’s easy. Like most people, I want to be liked, I do not admit that very often though and I try to take a very ‘those who mind don’t matter, and those that matter don’t mind’ approach to life. The interesting part of Smut Marathon though is I am offering feedback to people who do matter, at least they matter to me.

There are many bloggers I have connected with on Twitter, both prior to and because of the Smut Marathon. Many of them I would consider friends. I know lots of people don’t ‘get’ online friendships, but I do and those connections mean a lot to me. When the reveal is made and we find out who wrote which piece in the Smut Marathon it can be hard to see you didn’t exactly champion the work of someone you think a lot of.

That is why I think the initial anonymity of each round is such a good idea.  If I knew whose work I was commented on I don’t know if I could be as honest. In part because I think I would be swayed by knowledge of the person and their previous writing.

I’ve since read the some of the entrants thoughts on the feedback they’ve received and in some cases it has been hard because I’ve offered less than glowing feedback to people who are struggling with confidence in their writing or the Smut Marathon process or both, or an alternate issue. I hope though that none of my feedback ever comes off as ‘hey I’m right and that’s shit’. My thought process is more along the lines of ‘I have no idea what you were trying to portray when you wrote this (because I’m not you), but here is where I, as a reader, am at with it.’

Whether I voted for your Round 3 piece, or whether it didn’t resonate with in quite the way you might have hoped, I still think everyone did so well. That was a tricky assignment and I was honestly a little bit relieved I didn’t have to tackle it. I did have a little think as to where I might have gone with it and I decided that it was nowhere good. I’m very forgiving of imperfections, unless they are my own, so you probably would have got a character sketch of what I perceive to be my worst flaws and that is certainly not going to be erotic.

Voting for the next round of Smut Marathon doesn’t open until 29th April. As always those of following do not know what the next assignment is, but I cannot wait to find out and give the entries a thorough read. Please keep your eyes peeled for social media announcements that the voting has opened, and even if you can’t leave lots of feedback, I know that all the writers appreciate every vote they are given.

 

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Smut Marathon Round 2: The Results

end-1733893_640The results are in for Round 2 of the Smut Marathon, and the feedback is now available on the blog post containing our entries. I have not made it through to Round 3. While I am obviously disappointed, my feeling are overwhelmingly positive. Before I go on I will start with the entry I submitted. The original metaphor I used from the first round is in Italics.

The Disciple

The hot water cascades over his body, cleansing him as his ritual begins. Once dry he adorns himself with his symbols of submission. Reciting his mantra with every buckle he fastens. ‘I am bound to only you, I serve you with reverence and devotion.’ He is like the High Priest, called to worship at the temple of her body. I am their disciple. I bear witness to their passion, as I am baptised by the glory of their love.

Continue reading “Smut Marathon Round 2: The Results”