This is part 3 of my continuing Friday Flash tale, I’ll be honest and say I have no idea where it’s going, I’m just enjoying seeing where the prompt take me each week and keeping their adventure to 500 words. This week is a little less erotic, and it might need Part 1 The Cute Girl and the Pastry and Part 2 Life is Beautiful for it to make any sense.
My featured images usually come from Pixabay, unless they are clearly of me. For this post though I am using a photo that I took myself.
‘Pick your poison’ she said, thrusting a list of non-alcoholic cocktails into my hand.
‘My treat. I’ve got a surprise coming too.’
Jo had settled herself at the same table we’d sat at less than week ago. After she’d taken my order, ‘The Vagilante’ was to be my cocktail of choice, she busied herself at the counter until she returned, drinks in hand and a delightful platter of tasty morsels.
‘I felt bad taking you away from you pastry last time we were here and I wanted to make up for it.’
I grinned from ear to ear, no one had ever done something so thoughtful for me. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I’d managed to retrieve it.
Our time together was so wonderful that I hadn’t noticed the hours slipping away, so when she announced it was time to go I was inwardly, and it seems outwardly, crestfallen.
‘Don’t look so sad, you’re coming too.’
My daft and goofy grin was back, she responded in kind though and took my hand in her as we left the cafe.
‘Where are we going?’
‘On an adventure!’
I thought I knew the city inside out, but she took me on walk through hidden parts I had never discovered before. We talked about art, well she talked I listened, because it was fascinating hearing her thoughts on the matter. Every now and then we’d reach a place that she wanted to take pictures of, or somewhere she wanted to tell me about. I spent of lot of time listening and watching, simply enjoying being with her.
When we reached on of my favourite places, it was my turn to do the talking. We had by complete chance ended up at one of my favourite nature spots,the prettiest duck pond the city had to offer. We sat beside each other on the grass, and I told her all the facts I knew about ducks and we giggled as we watched them waddle and quack.
‘You’re such a dork Cam, I think I might always love that about you.’
I was startled by her honesty and her use of ‘that word’, she was unperturbed by it though and I realised what a lovely thing it was she had said, as my mind tried to unpick and scrutinise any and all meaning from her sentence, she spoke again, entirely interrupting my train of thought.
‘Do you know what else I love?’
‘Um .. no, I don’t.’
‘That thing we did in the bathroom on the first day we met.’
‘Oh yes, I loved that too. So much so that I’ve actually done it few times since. On my own though, so it wasn’t quite the same.’
She laughed so hard at my confession that I thought she might pass out, tears streamed from her eyes, but when she finally composed herself, she kissed me firm on the lips and whispered an offer into my ear that I definitely couldn’t resist.
If you want to know what Jo whispered to Cam then you will just have to wait until next week. In the meantime check out the other Friday Flash submissions via the link below.
Usually listen to an audiobook or read something on my kindle. If I let myself get distracted by anything else like social media when I can’t sleep then I’ll I end up never getting sleepy. Books though in both their forms are great for helping me relax enough to doze off. Thankfully it isn’t that often that I can’t sleep. Perhaps it would be a preferable option over some of the sleep oddities I do have though!
2. My dream bedroom would be full of _____ .
If it could be an NSFW bedroom then 100% I’d want it to be full of BDSM equipment. A bed with a cage underneath and lots of potential for tying someone to it. All my toys and accessories would be stored in some kind of order and would be easy to access at all times. There would also be enough space for at least 4 other pieces of Bondage equipment, or perhaps it would have an en-suite dungeon attached to it. In terms of colour schemes I’d probably keep it fairly ‘traditional’. I like the black and red or black and purple aesthetics that you often find associated with dungeons.
If it had be SFW though which in fairness it has to be in reality because I have a little boy. Then my dream bedroom would be the kind of bedroom you’d imagine a 5 year old having. All the pink, lots of glitter, unicorns, princesses and cats. I’d have a framed pictured of each My Little Pony hanging up There’d also be loads of cuddly toys including a vast quantity of Build A Bears.
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.
My phone pings with today’s outfit in question, and as I go to open it Jane sighs loudly and starts a tirade of how she hates mobiles and how there is no peace in the world any more, again I wouldn’t mind but she was on the phone for 30 minutes of our current 2 hour lunch date. When I check my message and see her delightful French Maids outfit and the feather duster in her hand, I am done, lunch is finished and I am going home to inspect her efforts.
As I open the door I can hear her rustling around in the kitchen, as I enter I am not disappointed by the view I am greeted with. Kneeling down, cleaning the floor, her tiny skirt is no match for her beautiful bottom and it is on full display. I love her bum. Biting it, beating it, grabbing it, all of which we might indulge in later, if she has completed her tasks to the required standard.
I wander around the house, checking all the agreed upon areas of inspection. Everything is as it should be, until I reach the bathroom. My mirrors are usually gleaming after she has cleaned them, today though they are streaky and peppered with finger marks. She knows the punishment for this infraction, and while I was excited to reward her, it is my job to give her what she needs, and what she needs right now is reprimanding.
When I reach the kitchen she is sitting on her assigned chair waiting for my feedback. The look on her face tells me she already knows what is coming though.
‘On your feet.’
She stands but there is apprehension in her body language, she will follow every order I issue, but she will do so wishing she did not have to. Wishing she could say no, wondering why she didn’t just clean the mirror properly. Of course she can say no if she wants to, she can use her words to explain that she doesn’t want this anymore, but she won’t, she never does, because above all else, this part of her that brought her to me.
I spread her legs as she rests her hands on the kitchen table. Her panties are soaked through, and I move them aside so my fingers can explore the wetness of her folds. As my fingers move inside her cunt, my words being to weave inside her mind, I whisper at her ear, soft and wicked, as I begin to strip away her decency and turn her into the puddle of nothing she desires to be.
‘You’re a disgrace. Fucking useless. My mirror is filthy. Your mind is too full of perversions to focus properly. You’re a dirty girl, a bad girl, just a filthy fucking slut if I’m being honest.’
With every word I speak she gets wetter and wetter, she is whimpering too, and I know she will cry. Her tears will fall and as I watch that happen my cunt will spasm and I’ll be left with no other options than to fuck her useless we’ve both faded into oblivion. That is later though, now I must teach her a lesson.
As my fingers increase their efforts to fuck her to orgasm, her moaning becomes more desperate and the wanton slut in her shines through.
‘What are you girl?’
‘A filthy fucking slut Miss.’ She says in one breath, then lets out a groan of pleasure to punctuate it.
‘Really? Just afilthy fucking slut.’
‘No Miss. I’m yourfilthy fucking slut.’
Yes. Yes she is. Mine, all mine and that’s why I must be firm with her, because what my slut needs, my slut gets and what she needs right now is to be debased and ruined, so she can feel free and complete.
My tirade on her mind continues as my fingers pound into her. I use all the words I know humiliate her, I tap into to those part so of her that no-one else knows about. I dig deep and use her shame against her, all the while making her more and more aroused, to the point that she is begging to come.
‘Please Miss. Please Miss. Please can I come, I can’t … I’
I make her wait, just a few moments longer. Her legs can barely hold her weight now, and her ragged breathing and desperate pleas are becoming so intense I could cry with happiness. I just want a little more of it, a little more of her desperation to feed the wickedness within.
Then it’s time. I can feel her cunt beginning to clench around my fingers in a way that tells me she will not be able to hold off much longer. My fingers pound into her, hard and fast, right against that spot she loves to hate. She will fill the air with cries of ‘no’ and ‘please stop’, and if I stopped she would cry out furiously and beg me to keep going. I don’t stop today though, today I give her exactly what she deserves.
She comes hard against my fingers, the warm, wet product of my efforts gushing over my hand and onto the nice, clean floor. She falls to her knees, she is as I predicted crying, great sobbing gasps as she kneels in a pool of her own creation. It isn’t over yet though, her punishment has only just begun.
‘You now what to do. Be a good girl and clean up your mess.’
She looks up at me with tear stained cheeks, her make-up smeared all over her face. She looks like a wreck and in my opinion extraordinarily beautiful. The looks in her eyes is pleading, please don’t make me do this they say. I must though, without this bit, she will retain some dignity and she needs to be stripped of that completely.
‘Do it.’ and as always she needs some physical encouragement, my fingers twist into her hair and I push her face into the mess she has made, reminding her once more that she’s a naughty girl who deserves to be punished. I catch her eye as she begins to lap at floor, and that look is everything. Humiliated and degraded she is consumed by shame, these things she lets me to do her are beyond convention, they are, to most people’s mind depraved and disgusting. In fairness they are depraved and disgusting and that is why they are so much fun. She knows this, she knows if she tells any of her friends what we do together they would shy away and probably calls her awful names and that would not be acceptable. I am the only one who gets to call her awful names, and she loves me for it and that shows in her eyes too. Adoration for the one who embraces her perversions and set her free by reducing her to a cum cleaning slut, my beautiful cum cleaning slut.
After a few minutes she is lost to her task, eyes closed, body relaxed, she has found her happy place. Which means knowing she is content and satisfied, and I can now use her for other things.
Taking her hand I lead her upstairs, to the bathroom of all places where the dirty mirror kick started today’s fun. I glance at it again, the words ‘Please degrade me Miss’ daubed on it in soapy finger streaks. When she asks for things so nicely, it is always a pleasure to provide them for her.
Now though we climb into the shower together and I wash her hair and her body, enjoying the sight of the water cascading over her curves, my fingers trace familiar marks and blemishes, that she used to complain about me paying attention to, but now she smiles and giggles at how much I love all of her.
Her own hands explore my body and as they reach my face she pulls me into a kiss, it is filled with passion, and when we pull away she whispers a soft thank you. I am thankful too. Thankful that she trusts me enough to explore the dark places with her, to keep her safe and to makes sure I always bring her back into the light with gentle and loving aftercare. Which helps things return to a more ‘everyday’ equilibrium and our D/s dynamic ebbs away softly so it is just a quiet lapping at the shore of our being together, everyday kinds of conversation resume as she asks me how lunch was.
‘Filled with Jane’s gripes as always. But she did make me laugh once or twice, so not all bad.’
‘Does she still think I’m your cleaner?’
‘She does. We should really tell her you’re my girlfriend soon though and make proper introductions.’
‘Oh no! Not yet! Please Miss, please let’s leave it a little longer, it’s so much fun this way.’
I can’t help but laugh, ‘and people say I’m the wicked one. You my girl are every bit as wicked as me.’ With that she splashes me full in the face with the water she has collected in her hands, and I suspect a whole new kind of punishment is in her future.
This piece was inspired by the wonderful prompt image for this weeks Masturbation Monday which was originally by LittleSwitchBitch, whose blog is fabulous and you should most definitely check out.
If you enjoy the content I provide both here and as part of the #ProudToBeKinky Podcast and you would like to support that, then likes and comments are joyful to receive and you can also click below to support me through Ko-fi.
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.
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.’
When I saw the Kink of The Week was risky sex I immediately got excited, then I realised I probably don’t have much risky sex and felt a bit deflated. When I sat and pondered my reactions I realised a two things:
I assumed in my own mind risky sex alluded to things like getting caught
I assumed sex referred to traditional sexual activity
This was daft because the actually Kink of the Week post included much more that as as inspiration, but I guess my mind was just having a silly pickle moment. It was those assumptions though that left me feeling like this wasn’t a topic for me. While I do enjoy sexual activity in my sexy times, it isn’t always our primary focus when compared to kink activities and it is very rare that it is non-kinky sex. We also don’t engage outdoor sex or any risk associated with getting caught. This is not a reflection on our feelings surrounding other people doing it. It just doesn’t get us off.
Her hands move deftly, caressing her camera like a lover. I watch enthralled as she captures the fair lady’s face with her lens. All too soon she is on the move, and my eyes fall to the mural of Audrey Hepburn that so appealed to her.
She’s cute and I’m a coward. My feet betray me though and follow her into the cafe adjacent to the mural. Most seats are taken, with many patrons choosing to stand as they chat and devour delicious pastries. She however has found a seat, at a table for two.
Camera in hand she flicks through the images she has taken, her facial expressions mesmerise me as she reviews the images she has procured.
In another lapse of being myself, I ask if the seat at her table is free. It is. I am sitting with the cute girl wondering how to eat a pastry in front of her with getting crumbs in my hair or spilling coffee down my blouse.
Unexpectedly she looks at me, perhaps into me? She makes my insides burn, my outsides too. I’m blushing hard. I should speak, but while she is looking at me at I can barely breathe let alone form coherent sentences.
‘Do you always follow girls into cafes?
I answer it in a questioning tone, kicking myself for not saying something smooth like ‘only the cute ones’, but why be cool when I can be a dork. Apparently that’s her thing though and she bursts out laughing.
‘Well when you know for certain could you let me know? I don’t want to be one of many, but I could be down with being an exception.’
The sparkle in her eyes is wicked.
This is confirmed when she stands up, takes my hand and leads me away. I leave my pastry behind without question. Who am I today?
We are in the ladies bathroom before I know it. Which isn’t always classy, but today it is the greatest adventure.
Her lips are on mine, soft and inviting. Our breasts are touching, clothes from an infuriating barrier, but still it feels amazing. My fingers snake into her hair and she moans, and I think I could come from that sound alone. I come, that’s true, but not from that. I come when her own fingers slip underneath my soaked panties and find in lightening speed that spot that makes the world blur and my body convulse with pleasure.
My hands fall to my side, the wall supports my weight as she steps back from me, the wicked sparkle in her eyes remains. In seconds her camera is back in her hands, she takes my picture and before I can object she has kissed me on the cheek and fled, leaving me bereft and wishing I had her number.
Thankfully my skirt had pockets, which is rare and awesome, and cute girl had business cards.
My pastry was still on the table too.
A great adventure indeed.
This is my first time getting involved with F Dot Leonora’s Friday Flash prompt. Writing less is not my comfort zone but I loved the challenge and hope to do more. Why not give it a go yourself and see what wonderful tales you can create in 500 words or less.
If you enjoy the content I provide both here and as part of the #ProudToBeKinky Podcast and you would like to support that, then likes and comments are joyful to receive and you can also click below to support me through Ko-fi.
I’m not big on the ‘L’ word, when I saw it was the prompt for the week I was doing the round-up for Wicked Wednesday I really did think that was vaguely comical. In the three years I have been intimately involved with Bakji I have probably said it no more than dozen times, maybe even less than 10. Or it could be more but I might have been drunk for many of them.
In addition to the above, which must seem like a terrible admission, It took me about 2 years to say ‘I love you’, I felt it after about 3 months, at 4 months I realised I wasn’t going to undo the horror of ‘falling in love’ and promised myself that if I felt the same after 6 months I’d say it. Then for many a fucked up reason I decided to never say it, would be a wiser decision.
What happened in the absence of I love you was actually quite sweet, we found different ways to express our affection, both of us I think not daring or wanting to declare too much. I think we each had our own reasons for that, but I think in part for both of us it was not wanting to ‘jinx it’.
Even now it is something we say very infrequently, but when it is said it is rather lovely, I have to admit that. Discussing why I felt the way I do, or feel the way I do about ‘I love you’ is well known to me, but would be thoroughly depressing to write about. A lot of it is irrational and I need to let so much of it go, and I’m working on that, sort of, but I think this is one case where writing out just won’t help.
Instead I want to focus on something positive. Well ten positives actually. In a somewhat uncharacteristic display of unabashed affection I would like to share with you 10 things I love about Bakji, all of which show that he is to blame for me catching feelings in the first place.
He is super funny!
Anyone who listens to the podcast will have heard my eye-rolls when Bakji interrupts me with yet another joke. Don’t be fooled though, those eye-rolls are nearly always accompanied by a grin and he has made me laugh every single day for the last three years. He is so silly sometimes and he think up daft games for us to play to keep me entertained. My own nature is far more serious and I need that laughter in my life. That he not only can make me laugh, but is so happy to do so, is truly one of my favourite things about him
He helps me try new things!
The amount of new things I’ve tried and discovered I love since meeting Bakji is a really long list. From podcasts to food, and of course new kinks. I have discovered more about myself in three years than I did in the previous 30! He does this by sharing his likes with me, and not being a bumhead when I decide to copy. He suggests new things to me and is happy when I seem curious and decide maybe I’d like that thing too.
He’s kind and generous
In the early days of our sexy friendship I was very careful not to overshare. No mentioning my worries, no boring him with the drudgery of my life as a parent, keeping the conversation light and as carefree as possible was my main aim. I was determined to never seem ill, or out of sorts and vowed that if I ever was those things then Bakji wouldn’t be dealing with them. As time has gone on hiding all those things from someone has been impossible, and when I have shared these things with Bakji he has always been the sweetest and most loving person I could ask for, and when and where he can he is always generous in terms of helping me make things better. I still dig my heels in sometimes when it comes to being looked after, but it’s actually a wonderful thing to know that he there for me when I need him.
He loves going on adventures with me
When I first joined the kink community one of the things I was searching for was adventure. By adventure I don’t necessarily mean distant travels to far away lands, although I’m not saying no to that if someone is offering. Adventures to me can be all kinds of things, for Bakji and I our adventures together began with travelling to kink events. Living outside of London meant lots of car journeys. We would drive to London, park near the event venue, have our fun, then drive home again at any time between 1am and 4am! Usually falling into bed between 6am and 7am. It never failed to shock people, but it was fun and we were doing it all together which made it even better. We’ve also had adventures in learning rope, adventures into new realms of kinky fun and adventures in non-monogamy. It was also only this year that we actually did go on an international adventure and that was an amazing adventure for sure. I know we have many more adventures to come and I can’t wait for them all.
He gives the best cuddles and snuggles
Physical affection is something that does not come naturally to me. No big bad reason for that. It’s just the way I am, with everyone. When I met Bakji and we started doing kinky things together the aftercare bit was not what I was expecting. Content to be left alone he would initiate a hug, and I think it may have been the first time we did this I actually said ‘we don’t have to hug’, his reply to which was he would like to, if that’s okay. It was different, but it wasn’t an issue so we began to hug more and somewhere along the line I began to love those cuddles. They are so good. I’m still not the best at initiating them. I do it far more than I ever imagined I would though and I love snuggling with Bakji, especially when we have sleepovers and we are all cosy in bed together. It is one of the best feelings in the world.
He’s gorgeous and sexy
Is it cheating to include this one I wonder? Maybe, but I feel like it would be less authentic if I didn’t include it because I’d be lying if I said Bakji’s gorgeous face wasn’t one of the first things that I noticed about him. He is so pretty. Three years down the line and he is even more gorgeous now than he was when I first met him and that is quite an achievement. His body was so enticing that it made me decide that I need to learn rope and take up Topping. I know some people find focusing on physical attraction shallow, but that physical attraction and chemistry we have together is all part of what made the deeper feelings develop. Without that initial ‘phwoar, I want some of that sexy’ we may not be where we are at all.
He listens and hears
One of the things I have often found frustrating is when I try to talk something through with someone and they offer me a solution based not on what I said, or meant, but based on what they decided I’d said. Listening is one thing, but actually hearing someone is a whole other skill set. I am forever grateful that Bakji doesn’t just listen to me, but he hears me too. He doesn’t leap to solutions either,thought he does offer his assistance if he feels it’s appropriate. Often though I don’t need him to fix anything for me, I say often because sometimes I really do need that, most of all though what I’m usually looking for is just a sounding board or a listening ear and someone to tell me it will be okay. The fact that Bakji actually gets this means a lot.
He’s unapologetic about being himself
We do not have the most conventional of relationships and we have no desire to follow the more regular steps of the relationship escalator as it were. We both have our own reasons for this, some overlap, some don’t. What I have always respected about Bakji is that he has no desire to pander to society and apologise for not wanting some of the things that may be expected from him. In the beginning this meant that I didn’t quite appreciate that our relationship could and eventually develop in something a little more meaningful than I had initially imagined. It was I think a reason I didn’t really keep my guard up, because I didn’t think there was anything to guard against. Not wanting to live together or use more familiar (to society) terminology for our dynamic doesn’t make it any less special though. I think Bakji always new these things, and a multitude of other things, and it took me some time to figure them out. I’m glad I did though because I adore the slightly random way in which we have combined sexy forces and feel blessed to have done so without either of us having to have compromised on things that are deal breakers for us. (Just to add we do compromise overall, we are no immovable and unfeeling objects.)
He challenges me to be better
Not as in ‘I challenge thee to duel, be better now or I shall poke thee with my fighting stick’, although now I’ve written that I’m having thoughts about his ‘fighting stick’ (yes I do mean willy) and I think improvements could be made faster if he threatened me with it more. In all seriousness though, there are some people who drag you down in life, and some who lift you up. Quite often it’s not even about whether or not they try to do those things, it’s just human nature. Bakji is thankfully one of those people who lifts you up. He is organised, driven and always on the lookout to improve himself or learn new things. He does those things for him, but witnessing them makes me want to do them for myself too. I think I’m yet to make the leap from better self to best self, but these things don’t happen overnight and luckily I have a Bakji to keep me company along the way.
I sometimes get messages on Instagram asking if I’m ‘single’ which isn’t actually true or false, non-monogamy and/or polyamory rather changes the way you need to ask and answer that question. I am however not ‘available’ to them, so I always say no, and because I don’t care to give them my life story I simply say I ‘have a partner’. To which they always nearly always reply, ‘oh, I bet he wouldn’t like knowing you show the world your arse/sell men nudes/are a massive cok tease’ etc. Not only does he know, but he wholeheartedly support me doing things that a) entertain me and b) earn me some extra monies. He is supportive of me in so many ways and he is supportive of me for the best reason ever, he simply wants good things for me. He also trusts me not to do anything stupid, like sell a kidney for a fiver or meet a random stranger offering me 50p for a blowjob.
There we have it, 10 delightful things that I love about Bakji, or things about Bakji that make me love him, I’m not really sure which way round it works. Either way though, he is the most awesome sexy-friend a girl could ask for.
Written for this weeks Wicked Wednesday prompt, please do check out the other blog post that are added to the link up, my fellow bloggers never disappoint and you will definitely find some sexy and interesting reads there.
If you enjoy the content I provide both here and as part of the #ProudToBeKinky Podcast and you would like to support that, then likes and comments are joyful to receive and you can also click below to support me through Ko-fi