23rd July

Living here with so many ghosts I feel like a caretaker of the restless dead – a protector of spirits who haunt my life – so that I’ve become my own haunted house, attempting communication with partially glimpsed movements at the edge of perception, or the sound of a creaking stair, or a noise in the attic which might only be the patter of falling rain…My ghosts can be cranky on occasion: they can whisper words, the meaning of which I’m unable to determine.

It’s been a long time since anyone treated them well –

#

So the Saturday evening play-party. With our friends from the local munch, people possessing the emotional bandwidth to comply with our safety standards, while sharing similar aesthetic tastes to ourselves.

Like a small film club, are we, eagerly awaiting the main attraction: crisps, freshly roasted nuts and popcorn are liberally distributed to ‘the audience’ in small china bowls. Missy A has been naughty and is to be disciplined while we watch. Furniture has been moved to accommodate this tableaux.

Seeing Missy A bent over a chair with her skirt hitched up is breathtaking. Hearing a hand slap against her buttocks, is so very arousing – how could it be otherwise? Savouring the slight trembling of flesh with each fresh impact. Her yelps of discomfort –

Then E rising to join T who is tiring. E has a riding crop. She takes T’s place. Her skin-head hair cut is intimidating. She uses the crop with consummate skill –

Yelps become cries. Missy’s poor glowing bum is criss-crossed with red stripes –

Missy’s now estranged husband used to take her to play-parties in the boot of their car. Almost nude, gagged and handcuffed, even in winter, she would endure this humiliation without complaint. His treatment of her became harsher and harsher, until she finally left him eighteen months ago.

It should serve as a lesson to us all, how quickly such consensual abuse can become pure abuse –

I’m reminded of Jean-Paul Sartre and his theory of emotions as ‘magic’. Because Missy has simply exchanged one sadist for another. The new man in her life allows his fantasies free rein. She is, it seems, one of life’s natural victims –

E’s skill with that crop is superlative. Her strokes are hard enough to mark Missy’s naked bum but not to break the skin. I can’t take my eyes from Missy, her tear-filled eyes, parted lips, writhing as if in the grip of some invisible power. Sex is inherently ritualistic, a symbolic act whose meanings extend beyond itself. And there can be no doubt that Missy’s submission is sexual, that she takes pleasure from E’s practiced flogging of her backside. And every face in ‘the audience’ is slightly flushed with sexual excitement as they look on. And my own arousal is equally obvious –

Finally, aftercare. Caresses, kisses, gentle stroking. A smile on Missy’s tear-stained face. She experienced some sort of climax near the end of her ‘punishment’, and all the tension is now drained from her.

I finish my popcorn (which incidentally is homemade) as E takes Missy upstairs to the bathroom to fix her make-up.

‘I hope they don’t wake the ghosts,’ I say to no one in particular.

And no one, as expected, bothers to reply.

#

Hamlet experienced an encounter with a ghost and it ended in massacre. Macbeth was confronted by Banquo’s ghost during a great banquet, and lost his peace of mind forever. It’s more than likely that Shakespeare’s ghosts are simply psychological manifestations of guilt – imagined apparitions, in other words.

But what of my ghosts?

Trish, for example?

She used to love me reading out loud to her. At bedtime I always had to read to her or she couldn’t sleep. On occasion she would perform an act of fellation upon me as I read –

She once described herself to me as ‘Terribly thin’. And her body, I must admit, was like a sabre slash in silk. As flat chested as a boy, was she. ‘You’re fine,’ I’d tell her. ‘I love you as you are.’ And then laid her back and performed cunnilingus on her for almost an hour –

I read her ‘The Story of O’ and we both got turned on by it. It was Christmas Eve I remember, and Trish guided me between her buttocks. I gently sodomized her for the first time while she masturbated herself.

We talked a lot about art, writing, music and cinema. One time I told her about André Gide, his enormous influence on the young, which sprang from his teaching that one’s only duty is to oneself, that one should never be ‘encumbered’, either by material possessions, memories or other people –

‘Often the best in us springs from the worst in us.’

And so I read ‘Isabelle’ to Trish, and we both visited le chateau de la Quartfourche with Gerard Lacase, and accompanied him on his quest for Isabelle in the grip of ‘amorous curiosity’.

Books, reading, more reading and fucking. ‘Why don’t you read me something you’ve written?’ she asked. It was a bridge too far for me. ‘No,’ I said. ‘Never that. It’s all too awful.’ But she insisted, so finally I recited some of the poems in ‘Summer Births’ from memory. And while the words spilled gently from my mouth like little lost souls, Trish fondled me erect and masturbated me –

Trish had always had a thing about India. For her it seemed a magical, mysterious, exotic place. One day she announced she was finally going to go there. She’d saved the money. She was going for six months – longer if she could!

And so she drifted from my life almost as casually as she’d drifted into it. And now she keeps company with the crowd of ghosts occupying this place; a spectre who loves to hear me read out loud late at night –

Naughty Robin –

July 8, 2017

I let my pretty petite cousin spank me with a switch multiple times when we were teens. She knew all my “sins” and threatened to tell my mother if I didn’t let her. My mother was a sadistic, religious psycho and did a lot more damage than my cousin could. It hurt my bare bottom and I cried but not a bad as mom would have done to me. My cousin was embarrassed when I reminded her of this the other day. Even though that was 27-28 years ago…

Source HERE

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“How bad will it hurt?” I ask suddenly as Cain pulls the car onto the road to head back to my house.

“How bad will what hurt?”

“The spankings, the torture, all the ways you want to punish me.”

“I’m not a sadist, Evan. I don’t get off on hurting women.”

“So it won’t hurt?”

“Oh, it will, but you’ll love the way it hurts,” he says, and as his words fall upon my ears in a harmony of exhilaration and foreboding, I think I’m beginning to understand.

Lilly Black
A Jade’s Trick

Spanking the boys…

August 27, 2016

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doesthishurt

“Pet, so far we’ve been playing at this. I’m going to take you a bit further. A play spanking can be erotic but I am going to take you flying, so high you’ll never have felt anything like it.” He paused and strolled around the kneeling boy. Damian pulled his hands together behind his back and linked the D rings on the cuffs. “Feel how helpless you are, on your knees to me, waiting for me to decide what to do to you?”

Catt Ford
A Strong Hand

Sunday secrets…

February 7, 2016

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leaving me wanting

January 18, 2016

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He moves suddenly so that his hand is cupping my sex, and one of his fingers sinks slowly into me. His other arm holds me firmly in place around my waist.

“This is mine,” he whispers aggressively. “All mine. Do you understand?” He eases his finger in and out as he gazes down at me, gauging my reaction, his eyes burning.

“Yes, yours…”

Abruptly, he moves, doing several things at once: Withdrawing his fingers, leaving me wanting, unzipping his fly, and pushing me down onto the couch so he’s lying on top of me.

“Hands on your head,” he commands through gritted teeth as he kneels up, forcing my legs wider…

“We don’t have long. This will be quick, and it’s for me, not you. Do you understand?

Don’t come, or I will spank you,” he says through clenched teeth.

E.L. James
Fifty Shades of Grey

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1. Poor, poor Gabriella, made to kneel naked on two family-packs of frozen peas as she licked-out Dee’s cunt.

2. Ordered out on the lane beside our house later that same evening, naked except for an old pair of yellow flip-flops, she pissed on the ivy-covered tree opposite – but like a male dog , on all fours with one leg cocked. She has truly become Dee’s pet.

3. Gabriella made to sit naked at the local BDSM group’s Christmas party with a “Whore for Sale” sign round her neck. Members and their guests encouraged to feel her up and finger her whenever the mood takes them.

4. Transported home naked in the boot of Dee’s car. Dee tells her she’s just “a cock ornament” and orders me to roughly arse fuck her standing in the front porch.

5. At regular intervals on the following day, Dee canes Gabriella on the bare backside – not because she’s done anything wrong, no, she does it because she enjoys doing it. Loves the sound of the swishy bamboo cane impacting on Gabby’s plump bum.

6. On Saturday Gabriella is encouraged to take old Simon home after a lunchtime session in our local hostelry. He’s seventy one years old, a bit skanky-looking , but Gabby must return with evidence that she’s pleasured him, sexually – which she does, handjobing him into a white handkerchief! Simon must think Christmas came early this year.

7. Gabriella delivered to Marcia’s home on the moor. She is to be Marcia’s toilet slave for the day. She has that glazed look on her face when we finally collect her in the evening, the one that says she’s been used and abused to excess all day long by both Marcia and her partner Claire.

8. Monday night Dee devoted two hours to torturing Gabriela’s tits; she did this in front of Bruce and his wife Sherry, old friends and members of a Devon BDSM group. Sherry assisted by clipping a dozen clothes pins on Gabby’s very red breasts and leaving them in place for a quarter of an hour or so. Finally, on her knees, Gabriella pleasured everyone present orally.

9. Dee ordered Gabriella to masturbate while sitting in the Foxglove restaurant. This she did, one hand between her spread legs under the table. Her face flushed redder than I’ve ever seen it before. She bit down hard on her lower lip when she came.

10. Ordered to wear a butt plug for a whole day at work last week. Gabriella in short black skirt went ‘commando’ – this to provide an opportunity for one or more of her colleagues to see the plug in her arse, whenever she bent over to retrieve items “accidentally” knocked to the floor in the office.

11. Eight friends from the local BDSM munch arrived for a “cheese and wine evening”. Gabriella, in the lounge, remained tied to a chair, naked, her knees pulled up to her shoulders, everything exposed and vulnerable, for all our guests to see. And to feel, if they wished.

12. Dee ordered Gabriella to bend over, legs slightly spread, presenting pussy and arsehole to her. Dee then carefully applied mint toothpaste to those meaty pussy lips and the outside of Gabby’s anus. The resulting burning sensation lasted a good thirty minutes. Gabriella became so turned on by it, pussy juice started to dribble down her inner thighs. Dee forcefully inserted Gabby’s panties into her soaking pussy, and masturbated her, then made Gabby take the sodden panties into her mouth and suck on them for ten minutes.

(Please remember, boys and girls, the above scenarios were each carefully worked-out before hand with everyone involved. They were, if you will, wish fulfillment games for Gabriella (and to an extent for Dee). Consent was and is everything in BDSM games. No panties were injured at any point in the proceedings, I can assure you all of this)

Here we are again…

December 27, 2015

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