Monday, January 28, 2013

Flash Fucktion: Collared Strapping

She crawled across the floor toward him, the leash dragging along the carpet at her side. How had she ended up in this situation? she wondered. She had wanted to please him, that's for sure. She wanted to do as he instructed. But whether she wanted to admit it or not, she wanted to be told what to do

She looked up at him standing across the room. He was a little ridiculous, standing there in his black leather vest and nothing else, but she'd never tell him that. Still, his hands on hips, his cock standing out pointing toward her, she was hungry for him—for his touch, for his pain, for his sex.

She reached him and she looked up at him, her eyes wide. "Please, sir." He didn't move, only looked down at his own foot. She looked down and he wiggled a big toe at her. Knowing what to do she bent down and sucked it. A tiny moan exited her mouth as she did and she was surprised when he grabbed her hair and pulled her head up to his cock. She wrapped her pink lips around it and took him into her mouth, pleasing him. 

Idly, he reached down and took the leash into his hands. After a few minutes he yanked the leashing, spinning her around so her bottom faced him and went back to what he was doing before—smacking her bare bottom and making it even redder. She moaned and writhed in a mixture of pain and pleasure. He reached down to his discarded black jeans and pulled his thick black leather belt off the waist. 

Looping the belt, he took strapping her bottom, which she eagerly raised to him, presenting herself as best as possible and she lowered her face to the carpet. Every few strokes he'd stop to caress her bottom, dipping a finger between her legs to test her wetness, then continue back to the strapping. Long, horizontal red stripes covered her bottom from her tailbone to her sweet spot and when he saw one side was redder than the other he'd move to her other side to gain even coverage.

By the time he was done strapping her, she was panting from absorbing the pain and he was sweating from the exertion. Later, the two of them side by side under the covers in the cold bedroom, reveling in their shared body heat, he grabbed the ring on her collar, drawing her face close to him and causing her eyes to pop open widely. "What?" she whispered.

"Did you like your strapping, slut?" he asked her.

"Yes, sir," she replied, "I did." She thought about it a moment before whispering into his ear. "And I hope you do it again tomorrow."

(Photo courtesy

Thursday, January 24, 2013

Monday, January 21, 2013

No More Checking In

The gentleman who taught me much about how to top, how to behave in the lifestyle and helped me discover my own play style taught me a lot about scene etiquette, too. He taught me to check in with the person I played with, following up the scene with an email or call the day after. At the very least it was polite. At the most it might reveal some psychological concern or physical after-effect it would be prudent to know about and to work through.

I have never met a woman I've played with who didn't appreciate a "Checking In" email.

But, two days after another delightful night at the Lair over the weekend with Lizzie (and you can read all about it later this week on our joint side-by-side blog, Black & Blue), I realized something odd. I don't check in with her after a scene. Why? Because we live together. I "check in" with her constantly. We have pillow talk after the scene before falling asleep and in the morning the next day.

Often, when my kids aren't around, we trade sly smiles or relive a little moment from the scene as we recall them. Lizzie is very cuddly the day after, wanting to "crawl into me" as she puts it. It's wonderful and certainly an aspect I never truly experienced until we were living together.

But I don't send her those emails. Sometimes, as I write them, I relive the scene in my mind, thinking about various aspects of the scene and wanting to know how she felt about some particular part of it, discovering some aspect I couldn't see through mine own eyes. 

Of course, our blog does that in many ways, but it's not the same. Thinking about it, I'm not sure why I stopped. Just because we live together doesn't mean I still can't check in. In fact, I think I'm going to post this and go do that now...

Thursday, January 17, 2013

Fulfilling Fantasies

It's amazing to go through most of your adult life either stifling your fantasies to the point they don't exist in your conscious mind or dreaming about something but never imagining they could ever possibly come true. What's even more amazing is when, after all that time, those dreams become reality in an almost torrent. What a rare gift indeed!

Such has been the case with my entry into the lifestyle a few years back and the people I've met, had relationships with, have played with and grown close to. Of course, most rewarding has been the love, D/s and relationship that developed with Lizzie. Again and again as I fantasize about all the fucked up shit I like and am into--both sexually and sadistically--I can safely say I've scratched almost all of them off my once bucket list of things I'd never imagine I'd actually get to do. No longer a bucket list, these things are part of my regular existence.

That's such a rarity in life in general. I may be the luckiest man alive.

(photo courtesy

Monday, January 14, 2013

A More Demure Time

You don't have to be from another era to find certain things fascinating. I know guys who never grew up in the 50s or 60s and they find girdles, retro lingerie and vintage fashion incredibly hot. Take the ballroom dancing movement that is, in itself, it's own culture of fashion, style and attitude. Then there are the Retros, people who eschew modern life in lieu for a simpler time and fill their beautiful mid-century homes with furniture, patterned wall papers and fabrics and even appliances from a bygone time. 

There's something sexy to that demure time, when women left something to be imagined and men were more Mad Men then Jersey Shore

Though I'm all for flesh and the exposing of it in my general direction at about any time of the day or night, I also find it incredibly sexy when a woman teases, a flirtatious appearance of the top of a stocking or garter belt so very much more than a blatant baring of boobs.