Time to take a break!


Hi everyone,

Thank you to all of you who follow my blog, and tell me how you enjoy my posts and my writing. I’ve hit a kind of burnout on blogging and facebook and the rest – I’ve been going 24/7 on promoting my stories and I’ve just about hit my limit. I can’t get any new material written while I’m focussing everything on getting the word out there, and I need a break.

Of course I WILL be back, with lots of new stuff, but that could be a few months away, so fair warning. To quote Douglas Adams: “Normal service will be resumed just as soon as we work out what normal is.”

Love you all,

Penelope Syn

Blown Kiss

Masturbation Monday – Hands Down Fun

It’s here again, and although I was absent all week, I wouldn’t abandon you all from #MasturbationMonday – I know what my audience likes!


Here’s an excerpt from Dominant Displays #1: Blind Lust. Anne has been blindfolded and gagged, and taken in a small cage to a BDSM party by her new Master. Thing is, while she’s exposed for all to see, she can’t see who is there or who is doing what…

I feel through the cage the vibration as Master touches it. My hands are freed, the strap around my waist loosens and is released, and the cage door is opened. Master’s firm hands grip mine, and pull me forward. Obediently I struggle out of the confines of the cage. I have spent hours in it before, so I am used to getting in and out. All the same, I gasp as my circulation returns to my cramped legs.

Master tugs my arms behind me and pulls them into a folded position, wrist next to elbow, and binds them there using the straps built into my bondage corset. I am painfully aware that this forces my breasts forward, and ensures my pussy is fully exposed to view, and touch. As if to confirm this, a hand cups my right tit, the thumb rubs my nipple making it stiff. I give a soft squeak of surprise because Master is still behind me, binding me.

Shock renders me immobile. I had been prepared to be seen, but I had no warning that I would be touched. Fear courses through me. What have I got myself into? As I begin to pull away, Master’s hands squeeze mine for a moment. That gesture tells me that I must stand still, and reminds me that I agreed to trust him absolutely when I became his slave. Another layer of inhibition peels away from me with a slight shudder, and I relax and submit to the intimate caresses. I am a slave; I need do nothing but trust and obey my Master, and enjoy whatever happens.

The release is so strong it is erotic, and my body responds to the touch as if it were my Master’s. The hands leave me a moment later, to a pang of regret from my submissive heart.

Another hand rubs between my legs and to my shock and surprise it’s a hand with long-nailed fingers. A woman is stroking my pussy and tickling my clit, and I catch her voice through the muffled buzz.

“…nice and wet…fuck her later?”

“Perhaps, if she is a good girl,” Master’s voice responds close to me.

Shocked again, I have to fight hard not to clamp my legs together, shivering as my skin tightens with another wave of heat. It spreads out from my sex, and makes my nipples harder as another hand plays with my left tit now. It is different again from the first two, which must mean I am being fingered by three different people. Yet Master must want this, so again I release the tension and feel another layer peel away from my psyche as step by step I strive to surrender my will.

I begin to pant, my breathing coming quicker. I do not know whether to be mortified or flattered by such a blatantly sexual caress. My slit juices up more, but I am not entirely enjoying the attention. Master’s arm slides around my waist from behind, and his body presses to me. His torso is bare, and a hard leather-clad bulge is pressing against my ass.

“Trust, slave,” his voice rumbles indistinctly. Immediately my breathing calms, my racing pulse slows. I make a soft noise and nod, my body relaxing back against his. He is here, everything will be all right. He will not allow anything untoward to happen to me.

“Is this her first outing?” a male voice asks close by.

“Yes, she’s only been trained at home until now. That’s why I am keeping her blindfolded, because she needs to learn more trust. When I have full obedience, I’ll let her see what she is missing.”

Missing? That’s one way of putting it. It implies that there is something here to see other than me. Perhaps there are a lot of other effectively naked subs in here?

Master draws me back from the questing hands, releasing me. A tug on my collar tells me he is leashing me, then another tug and I start forward, stepping as he has trained me: confidently, with my corset and heels helping to make my walk a sultry strut. I follow the pull on the leash, brushing past people on the way. I can feel the closeness of their bodies, feel the touch of leather, latex, cloth and a lot of warm, bare skin.

In return hands touch me, my breasts, my ass and my pussy all get fleeting caresses. Knowing now this is what is intended, that I need only to trust my Master, I find the intimate touch erotic rather than threatening. These are just the equivalent of wolf-whistles, compliments to be enjoyed. Indeed they make my breath quicken again with lust. Other sounds reach me over the susurrus of voices. I can hear a whip crack, a voice cry out with pain, the buzz of a vibrator, moans and cries that are not mere talk.

I can also smell scents such as perfume, cologne, musk and sex. They reach into my brain and pluck strings that connect to my tits and pussy. This isn’t just a party, it’s an orgy, and I am pre-packaged for no-permission-required sex. The thought makes my heart flutter with apprehension, and my pussy drip. Master didn’t mention me being fucked by anyone else, my calm mind reasons, he does not intend that. Probably.

I am not sure if the thought reassures or disappoints.

Abruptly, Master stops me, and I hear his voice speaking to somebody. Long-nailed fingers on soft hands take my shoulders, and a body’s warmth makes my skin tingle an instant before firm breasts press against my own, and soft lips kiss the small part of my cheek exposed.

“Hello, Anne,” a woman’s voice speaks right by my ear as she embraces me. As far as I can tell she is nude, but her touch is not sexual, at least not intentionally so. “I’m Jennifer, we’ll meet later, I am sure, you just…enjoy your experiences.” Her momentary hesitation hints not at anything fearful, quite the opposite.

She draws back, and a man hugs me firmly.

“And I am Frank.” His voice sounds close to my ear, close enough to be heard properly. “Relax, and enjoy,” he chuckles. I gasp around my gag as his fingers explore my wet gash, then a finger slips up inside my pussy and explores for a moment. This time I do not fear it, I am not responsible for it and I only need to enjoy it to please my Master. My gasp changes to a tormented moan as he finds my g-spot.

“…very responsive,” his voice sounds less distinct as he pulls away, and his finger slips out of me, leaving me trembling.

Another tug on my leash draws me on. I “meet” several couples, and am at least satisfied that I am not the only nude girl in the room. Many of the men I am introduced to caress my tits or pussy, and a few of the girls do too. A dimly perceived part of my mind remembers that I should be outraged, that I should feel violated and assaulted. The rest of my mind is smothered in the step by step submission of my desire. All I feel instead is incredibly horny and sexed up.

Master leads me into what I think is another room, from the feel of the air and the sounds. It is amazing how much attention you pay to other senses when you are sightless. In this room the sounds – such as I can hear them – are different. Less talk, and more sounds of blows being struck. Gasps, moans and whimpers as well, and voices begging and pleading. They penetrate my dreamlike surrender sufficiently that my stomach goes cold. Master has punished me only rarely before now, and I wonder what awaits me in here?

I am not kept waiting long. Master grasps me by my pony-tail.

“Now, I saw you enjoying what was done to you, slut, don’t think I didn’t,” his voice rumbles in my ear, teasing me. He allowed it to be done, after all, it’s not like I could have stopped anyone groping me! “Just how many different men – and women – stuck their fingers up you, hmm?” I struggle to mumble around my gag, but my jaw aches and my mouth drools, and I cannot say anything coherent.

“Five? Ten?” Master asks, and laughs wickedly in my ear. I shudder, feeling as if my entire body is blushing with shame. “And I bet you are still horny, aren’t you?” One hand is on my hips, the other on my head, and he bends me forward until my back is arched and my head is pointing to the floor. Something presses to the back of my neck and shoulders, and something else goes around my neck, holding me in place in this uncomfortable position. If I could see, I’d be looking back between my legs.

The straps on the gag loosen, and the ball is suddenly pulled out of my mouth. I struggle to work my jaw back to normal. I suppose I can at least speak now.

“Open your legs,” Master orders me, his lips close to my head. I work my feet apart. In a moment something tugs at one ankle, then the other, and, shifting my feet, I know I cannot close my legs again. Bent double, naked from the waist down and legs apart, my wet gash is presented to the room, as is my ass.

I am fully exposed, and I know there are only two possibilities, punishment or sex – or both. Trepidation grips me in spite of my submission. How will I respond if Master takes me publicly? What if he really does allow someone else to use me in this position? Will I really be able to relax and enjoy it? In spite of my fears, my sex is very wet at the prospect and the need to surrender to him is as strong as ever.

“Now, can you hear me, slave?” Master’s voice asks. It is further from me, and a hand strokes my bare ass.

“Yes, Master,” I respond, unable to keep a tremble from my voice.

“Now, it is obvious to me that you badly want to be fucked,” he says, his hand stroking between my legs, sending a shiver through me as he strokes my pussy and starts me juicing up anew. “It is also obvious that you have been a very bad slut, offering this cunt to anyone who wanted a feel,” he continues. His fingers locate and stroke my clit, making me mewl softly.

“Y-yes, Master,” I whimper, trying to sound contrite rather than lustful.

“So I will now punish you for the latter, while you beg me for the former. If you beg well enough, I will grant your request – for a little while. Then, we will repeat until I am satisfied you have been adequately chastised, and you will then be permitted to cum when you are fucked.”

My pulse races. I am going to be fucked in full view of the guests at this party. The rush of blood to my face could heat the room, if my sex hadn’t got there first. I am deeply ashamed, but very turned on as well, so turned on I can feel myself drip as Master continues to rub my slit. When he withdraws his hand, all I can think about is how nice it felt –

With a sharp crack, a line of fire slices across my ass. It is the first time I have felt a rod – or a cane, or a crop, I have no idea which – as Master has always used his hand before. I squeal in pain as my body jerks, helpless and unable to flinch from the pain. Biting my lip, I try to contain my pain. The burning sensation seems to spread out like heat across my ass, and seeps into my sex like cool fire. I blink, startled as the throbbing sensation does not just hurt, it turns me on!

“I can’t hear you, slut,” Master sings.

Another hard crack on my ass draws another weal of fire across my cheeks, and I stifle another yelp of pain.

“P-please, Master, can I be fucked?”

DD#1 blind lust cover

If you liked this excerpt, you can get the full story here:

Amazon: http://myBook.to/BlindLust

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DD - Collection

Or you can get the complete series!

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Masturbation Monday – Challenging Games


Monday is here again, and this time I have a teaser from Dominant Displays: The Challenge. Michelle has been locked in chastity for nearly two weeks before she is taken by her Master, Simon, to a very exclusive and kinky party…

“Tell everybody how long since you last had an orgasm, Slave Michelle,” Master Simon commands firmly. I swallow hard, as while it is very personal, it is also a command.

“Thirteen days, Master,” I reply meekly, my face flushing. As I do, he leans over me and unfastens the cups of my steel bra, exposing my round, full breasts to the room. Each is tipped with a rigid nipple, proclaiming my state of arousal.

“Well, we’re going to play a game now.” He walks around me until he is between my legs, and he produces the key to my chastity, inserts it into the belt and turns it with a click. “It’s called ‘how much do I love Master’,” he continues. He unfastens my chastity belt from the chains that run through the rest of my outfit – for want of a better term – and releases the belt from my waist. Carefully he draws it off me, slowly and publicly easing the dildo out of my very wet sex as he does so. My face burns as my most intimate parts are exposed to the onlookers, and the fact I was walking around with that inside me.

“Here’s how it works,” Master continues, walking back around to my head. “Three of the other guests are going to play with you for five minutes each. They can do anything but make you cum, or fuck you. They can’t do that unless you beg them to, and they will be doing their best to make you beg them to.” I stare up at him, wondering if he has lost his senses. “If you can resist all three of them, then I will fuck you and make you cum.”

I’m going to be fucked in front of a roomful of people?

I realize my mouth is open in shock, and close it. I swallow hard. This is fiendish, because I’m already desperately horny. Master has been teasing me harder and harder the last few days. He hasn’t mentioned any downside to them having me. The only downside I can think of will be that I will have let him down. My heart races as apprehension twists up my guts. I really do not know if I can do this. Should I use the safe word? Say it’s too much?

But that would be admitting that I don’t think I can do this, and if there is one thing I have never done, it is turn down a challenge from a man.

This really is a test as to how much I love him.

“Yes, Master,” I squeak in a tiny voice.

“Good girl.” He leans over and kisses my lips. The taste of him is more arousing than any dildo. The scent of his closeness makes me helplessly wet. I need him, not anyone else! “Make me proud,” he whispers. My heart skips a beat. I made the right choice,he is proud of me already! A surge of empowerment fills me as he looks up at our audience. “Who’d like to go first?”

“I will,” a Dom in a safari suit, who seems to have no associated slave offers. He’s of average height and middling years, although he is slim and fit-looking. He looks nice enough, but way too old for my tastes.

“Be my guest, Daniel.” Master offers him my lush body, all laid out and helpless.

The man called Daniel smiles slightly, reaches into one pocket and produces a miniature wand – a vibrator with a blunt, soft head. A soft hum comes from the vibrator as he moves to the side of the table. He starts by running the vibrator up the inside of my thigh, making me gasp as the purring thrill seems to shoot up my back as well. He takes out a second one and as the first plays up to the side of my pussy-lips, the second is introduced to my breast. It glides around my swollen, stiff nipple in slow circles.

I gasp and squirm but the table holds my various cuffs very securely. Damn me for choosing this outfit! No wonder Master approved! As the vibrations throb through my nipple my sex feels as if it’s growing hotter, and the other vibrator purrs up and down the side of my mons. I long to feel it on my slit, but at the same time I’m grateful he hasn’t got there yet. My breathing quickens as Daniel moves the second vibrator from breast to breast, making my nipples so hard they hurt.

Meanwhile, the other vibrator moves to my other thigh, making me twitch again as Daniel runs it up and down, into the crease where thigh meets crotch. Then he runs it up one side, around my clit and down the other. My buttocks tense in anticipation of it brushing my clit, but it doesn’t. He repeats this several times, and he has some impressive manual dexterity as he uses both hands to perform different tasks, keeping my breasts busy and my pussy desperately anticipating.

A soft cry of surprise comes from my lips as the vibrator between my legs presses into my cleft just bellow my clit, sending throbbing waves through my cunt, through my pubic bone. They seem to fill my crotch and yet do not quite fulfill me enough. The throbbing makes my clit stiffen and tingle but it’s untouched, lusting, needing.

“Fancy more?” Daniel asks, grinning down at me with a big bulge in his crotch. “I can press this a little more.” The vibrator moves up a fraction, but still not enough, making me whimper. My pussy is all but gushing, and I’m panting to try and keep my senses. “All you have to do is ask for my cock in your slut-hole.”

Jesus yes please I am so closecloseclose!

My libido yammers at me, desperate for release.

“N-n-no th-thank you, Sir!” my voice squeaks.

“No?” The vibrators move slightly, sending new waves through me. Hot and cold prickles my skin and I shiver helplessly, little whimpering sounds coming from my throat.

“N-no thank you,” I sob, so frustrated it hurts.

“Ah well,” the older man shrugs. “I was just the opener.”

I nearly howl in frustration as the vibrators withdraw, to a smattering of applause from my audience.

“Guess I’d better go see how Frank’s doing with my electro-set,” Daniel sighs, and shrugs. “Well done, slave, maybe next time.”

Master leans over me and holds a straw to my lips, and I take a drink of something cold and possibly alcoholic, though I am past caring what. The cold liquid just soothes the heat in me, and a fan plays across my body.

“Very well done,” he whispers. “I’m proud of you.” I feel a surge of gratitude for his words far more than for the drink. I’m doing right, I’m being good, I reassure myself.

“Let’s give her a second to calm down,” Master tells the onlookers. “Who would like to go next? Dominic?”

I turn my head to see a drop-dead gorgeous blond man, of average height with shaggy hair and a tanned complexion that would not be out of place on any surfing beach. It’s accentuated by his open Hawaiian shirt and matching shorts, showing off a very firm set of pectoral muscles and a six-pack to die for.

“Sure,” the blond guy, Dominic, nods. “I’m sure I can test her limits,” he adds, grinning lecherously. I tremble in trepidation as he seems very confident. Master draws back, and Dominic steps close. If I had been single and met this guy in a bar, he would have scored. He leans over me and cups my chin in his hand, making me look up at him a little fearfully. His other hand brushes my cheek, making my skin flicker with heat where he touches it. His hands are very warm. He strokes the back of his fingers down the line of my jaw and across my throat.

Another tingle pulses through me from his touch, and I catch my breath as my nipples heat back up. I had expected that he would go for my tits and pussy, as Daniel had done. Instead, he was bypassing my defenses with this almost romantic seduction. He leans over me suddenly, tilting my head aside, and kisses my throat hard. I can feel his stubble and a moment later his teeth as they nip my tender flesh, making me squeak and arch my back. My tits and their engorged nipples press up against his hairy, solid chest.

His kisses press one side of my neck, then the other, working down. One hand cups and squeezes my left tit, and a finger and thumb pinch and twist my nipple just hard enough to hurt a little. Then his kisses find the other breast and he kisses, bites and sucks hard, placing a deep red mark on my tender flesh before he does the same right on my nipple which he kisses, sucks, then his teeth pinch it and he tugs very lightly, drawing a moan from my throat.

I strain against the restrains. I can feel my pulse in my breasts, feel them throb and burn. They send messages down to my sex that trips past my reservations and make it throb with jungle heat. Now my body seeks not escape from its torment, but desire for him. It takes a supreme effort to grind my teeth and force myself to be still. This is real temptation, and no mistake, and he hasn’t even gone near my pussy yet!

A soft mewl comes from my throat, a little cry of despair. The hand on my left breast moves down, sliding warm and firm across my belly to my hip, up again, and down, caressing my flank sensually as a lover would. A slow swell of hot and cold passes over my skin. He doesn’t seem to need to touch my clit. He has turned my entire body into one huge erogenous zone and he plays me like a guitar, strumming, caressing, kissing my breasts and throat.

Dominic’s warm hand is suddenly between my legs. My thighs twitch twice against their cuffs – once to open to welcome him, once to close as I guiltily recall that I am meant to be resisting. The warmth of that hand seems to spread out and fill my body from the inside, filling me with gentle heat. His hand cupping my mons, the heel of his palm against my tingling clit, the fingers lying down my gash, the tips moving lightly next to my hole.

Oh god I cannot stand this! I’m going to break any second!

His kisses move back up to my throat, making my heart pound loudly in my ears as I feel his restrained strength next to my completely helpless, vulnerable form. He has total control, and he exploits it. His fingers, slick with my juices, trail up my slit between my cunt-lips and stroke around the hard button of my clit.

He moves, lying over me, his weight supported on one arm, and suddenly it’s not his hand pressing hot and firm against my slick groove, it’s his pulsing, silky, warm cock held rigid right against me as he rocks his hips by just half an inch back and forth.

His now-free hand grasps my hair, forces my head back to look up at his face over mine, look into his dark eyes. He fills my senses, sight, sound, touch, scent are all him, with no escape.

“Say you want me to fuck you,” he commands. His voice is deep and I can feel the vibration of it resonate in his chest, passed by the contact of our hot skin to my throbbing nipples. If I say yes, it will take him less than a second to bury that big, firm dick to the hilt in my drooling, lusting cunt. He will fill it up, complete me, grind his pubic bone against my pulsing clitty and make me come almost instantly. He’ll bang me helpless against this table good and hard, and I’ll howl and shake as he rides me bareback, because there’s no way this guy won’t make me go multiple until he pumps me full of his jizz.

A flicker, just a flicker of motion on the edge of my vision, as a woman leans a little close to watch, eyes eager as she blatantly rubs her crotch through her latex cat suit. I can’t see Master Simon, but I know he is watching. Oh god I so want this guy to FUCK me! But I can’t. If Master had traded me to him, I’d leap willingly into his bed and that would be a first for me, but that is not the deal today.

“No,” I sob in a tiny voice. “I c-can’t, Sir,” I whimper, my eyes watering with the need, the lust, the desire, and the frustration.

“Are you sure?” His hips move, sliding his dick against my sex so close to entering me I could scream.

“No!” I groan. “Please, no!”

There is a click, and Dominic stops.

“Times up, Dom,” a girl’s voice giggles.

DD#3 - The Challenge

If you liked this little clip, the whole story is here at only 99c!

Amazon: http://myBook.to/TheChallenge

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Riding Amanda – an excerpt from my WIP

Hi everyone!

I’ve managed to get some work done on my latest Work In Progress, and as promised here’s a little teaser from it…do please enjoy!

From Riding Amanda:

“Well, now, that wasn’t too hard was it?” Master Philip drawled from behind her in the doorway to the house. His tone, the pitch of his voice, sent a prickle down Amadna’s spine from the base of her neck to her pussy.

“No Master Philip,” Amanda replied, turning around. Mistress Trudy was standing next to him, and both were smiling at her in a way that made her stomach flutter with butterflies.

“No…aren’t you a little overdressed?” Philip remarked. Amanda swallowed. She was wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and sneakers for the job of packing, moving, and unpacking.

“I’ll get changed at once,” she declared, realizing he definitely wanted her in something sexier.

“Good idea,” Mistress Trudy approved. “Strip. Now.”

But I’m standing in your driveway! Amanda swallowed. No-one from the street could see her, the garden was secluded, and it was not a cold day. She tugged her T-shirt up over her head, and stepped out of her sneakers before wriggling out of her jeans, leaving her standing in her white lace bra and panties.

“And your bra, Amanda, Master Philip likes to see your tits,” Mistress Trudy reproached her. Amanda felt her cheeks color as she reached behind her and unfastened her bra and shrugged it off her shoulders. She was proud of her breasts, not only large but firm enough that she could indeed go braless. Exposed she could feel her nipples hardening as Master Philip’s eyes rested on them. Little tingles excited her pussy in anticipation as she dared a look at him from under her demurely lowered lashes and moistened her lips. He was leaning on the wide doorframe, watching her with patient interest, and she could see a visible bulge in his crotch.

Gravel crunched under Mistress Trudy’s boots as she strolled over to Amanda, eying her up and down. It still disconcerted Amanda a little – not that Mistress Trudy was attracted to her, she had had that reaction from other women before – but that Mistress Trudy’s attention stirred Amanda herself as well. In their previous meeting, Amanda had seen her heterosexuality illusions shattered, Mistress Trudy had already ‘turned’ her bisexual – although that term was misleading: you couldn’t make anyone gay or straight or anything in-between. In reality Mistress Trudy has simply spotted the latent bisexual in Amanda and brought it out.

And I enjoyed it very much, she conceded to herself.

It just made her a little apprehensive about what else she believed about herself that might not be as true as she thought.

A sharp spank on her ass made her cheeks and breasts jiggle as she started more in surprise than pain.

“Just what are these?” Mistress Trudy snapped the waistband of Amanda’s panties.

“Panties Mistress Trudy,” Amanda replied, remembering to act submissive. For the first time she noticed that Mistress Trudy was carrying a small sports-bag, and she realized that her lover’s wife was probably going to dress her up in something. Here five minutes, and it was turning kinky already.

“Panties? And who gave you permission to put any barrier between your fuck-hole and Master Phillip’s cock?”

Amanda jaw dropped in shock. Not so much at the accusation that she was somehow “wearing panties without permission” but to hear her pussy referred to so crudely. Her blush deepened and she felt her pussy – her fuck hole – get wet. Like being spanked, like being called “the office slut” as Master Phillip pounded her over his desk, it turned her on. From any other woman it wouldn’t have this effect, and any other woman she would have stood up to and faced down.

But not this woman; this woman had already taken her, dominated her, spanked her, sexually teased her to climax, and pressed her face between her legs to lick her pussy. This woman could own her with one hand tied, and she knew it.

“No one Mistress, I’m very sorry Mistress,” Amanda mumbled, almost tearing her panties off in haste, so she stood there nude save for the collar around her throat.

“Better. Touch your toes.”

Face burning, Amanda bent at the hips and reached down to let her fingertips brush her toes. Her sex was now fully exposed, and her ass-cheeks presented for the spanking she just knew was coming. Instead of another smart slap on the butt, she started as Mistress Trudy’s gloved fingertips stroked her exposed labia lightly.

“Oh look, someone is wet already,” Mistress Trudy chuckled. A shiver ran through Amanda as those fingers traced up and down her slit and gave her clit a slow, light massage. Amanda bit her lip to resist a moan of pleasure.

Then the slap came, and not one but several hard spanks on her butt. She squeaked in surprise, but held the position as the breeze caresses her skin. Each blow stung, but made her pussy twitch and her butt felt warm when Trudy stopped. All the other woman was doing was spanking her, but it made her so horny…

“I think we need to train you to understand your role here,” Mistress Trudy drawled. “You are not a servant. You are not a lover. You are a slave and a pet…”

A finger thrust unexpectedly into Amanda’s pussy with a kind of casual liberty that she had come to expect and enjoy from Master Philip. That his wife felt so entitled shouldn’t have come as a surprise, yet it did.

“Oh!” Amanda gasped, and a hand slapped her ass hard while the finger continued to explore, making her sex hum with anticipation.

“Keep still, pet. Clearly we need to train you appropriate to your role.”

“Yes Mistress,” Amanda whimpered, tingling with anticipation. When Master Philip had “trained” her in the past she had always enjoyed it very much – eventually. The finger withdrew, leaving Amanda frustrated.

“Straighten up, eyes front,” Mistress Amanda commanded brusquely, and Amanda complied. One hand was pulled behind her back, and something cool and slick slipped over her hand and up her arm. A zipper tightened it up and closed it firmly over her like a glove. When her hand was released Amanda was puzzled to see it encased in a black latex glove up to the elbow. There were no fingers or thumb in the glove, her hand was flat against a heavy rubber pad, and on the back of her hand was a heavy steel D-ring. Even as she looked at it in surprise her other hand was encased in an identical glove.

“Kneel,” Mistress Trudy ordered, and Amanda knelt, apprehensive. From behind her Mistress Trudy ran her hands through Amanda’s thick mane of blond hair, gathering it up into a ponytail. Something was pulled over Amanda’s head and face and zipped up behind her head: a black latex hood, clearly with holes for nose, eyes, and mouth as Amanda could still see and hear and breath. Something projected from the mask on either side of her head, she could feel Trudy adjusting it.

“Very fetching,” Master Phillip said in approval.

Amazon: http://Author.to/PenelopeSyn

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Hump Day Blues

I’m sitting here, listening to Passenger playing on my MusicBee, and realising that recently I’ve been having to choose between catching up on my writing and writing a good blog post. It’s been around six months since I had a new release, and I have several works in progress, but none of them ready.

This just won’t do.

It’s not just procrastination, but the demands of my “day job” of looking after my best friend, and of doing all my own marketing…the perils of being an indie author with a shoe-string publisher, I guess.

I got the hump-day blues, and I am going to have to knuckle down and get some writing done, and I have already contacted Master to let him know to NOT spank me if I don’t…the sacrifices I make, eh?

So apologies for not providing you all with a long post and a succulent teaser, I hope to have something tasty ready for Friday, though!

Love & hugs to you all,

Penelope Syn

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Mating the Mare – Masturbation Monday


Masturbation Monday is here again – so here’s a little excerpt from a very naughty scene. Lydia, trainee sex slave, is at a pony farm and is learning the ropes of being a pony-girl…

“Ponies and riders don’t mate,” he tells me in his deep, purring voice. I want to whisper a reply that I really wanted him to fuck me, to beg for it like a good sex-slave, but his finger on my lips reminds me I am to keep silent and I just nod meekly. With a confident smile he fastens on my nipple reins and leads me out of the shower. I follow, hooves clopping on the flagstones. We enter another stall-sized room with a high wooden bench that has a number of buckles and straps, and a set of stocks facing toward a movable seat.

I have seen and been in similar things many times in the last few months, and feel my face flush as I start to realize what it’s for. Trepidation wars with growing lust. I am already horny, but I’m horny for Master Daimon. I want to protest, but I am trained to obedience and to the command not to speak under any circumstances. I want to protest and plead, but as he grips the hair at the back of my head in one strong fist and bends me over the bench, my resistance melts away at his touch. He unclips my reins from my nipple-rings and binds me over the bench while my slit betrays me by moistening up as I feel the straps tighten and grip to pin my hips face-down to the bench and my ankles wide apart.

The bar of the stocks lowers, locking my neck and ankles into it. Between the stocks and the bench is a short gap that allows my breasts to hang freely, I can feel them, move as I try and shift my hips slightly and fail. My tail is the only covering my sex has as it faces the open door and anyone walking past, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Throughout the large stable building boots and hooves thump and clop as other ponies and riders walk about.

Anyone could just walk in and fuck me, and shame flushes my cheeks as that thought makes me wetter.

I am a slut, I acknowledge silently. No, I am a filly, a mare, and mares do not choose which stud is to mount them.

Master seats himself in front of me, his crotch level with my face for the inevitable. Wordlessly he frees his big, hard dick and slides the seat forward, and I open wide like a good slut as he urges my mouth over his cockhead. Pouting I sullenly extend my tongue to lick his glans, then his hands reach around the stocks to start playing with my breasts, and my nipples go hard as rocks.

“Ponies may please their owners,” he chides me gently as I start to fellate him, giving his dick the best attention my mouth can supply. I understand fully, I am allowed to please him, but he is not going to please me. Before I heard of BDSM I would have told any man that made such a suggestion to go pay personal visit, on his own behalf, to a taxidermist. A man had to prove he could use his tongue on me before I’d use my mouth on him.

No longer; thanks to the last few month’s training and conditioning all a lover has to do is put me in bondage and suddenly I’ll supply whatever they want. I do it because I know that down the line I will get the most intense pleasure of my life. How or when is another matter, but I serve my lover secure in the knowledge that when it suits them, they will make me scream and shake and sometimes even black out with ecstasy.

Right here, and right now, I am a good pony who wants to please their rider, my Master, and I wrap my eager lips around the head and start to suck. He pets my mane, strokes my breasts, and my pussy gets warmer and wetter and tingly as my head bobs obediently up and down as much as the stocks will allow me.

“Good pony … good girl Scamper … Mmmmm you are a dirty mare aren’t you? I bet like all fillies you’d like a good stallion to mount you … you can’t help it, can you? … I bet you are in heat now …” his words make me squirm and flush as they lay bare my lust, because he is right on all fronts. I am so lost in the delightful fantasy he paints, so hot at the thought of the fucking he describes that I do not notice the approaching feet and hooves until they are right behind me, and a woman’s voice is heard right behind me:

“Here you are, Stamper, isn’t that a nice sight? A good little filly all juicy and ready for you.” I start as a hand strokes my tail aside, and I can feel cool air on my exposed, glistening slit. Hands with long nails push my cheeks wider apart to fully display me. I squeak as my mouth is full of cock, and Master’s hand will not let me stop sucking him, and contritely I resume.

“I arranged a nice stallion for you, Scamper, just like you want,” he breathes softly to me, still petting my hair, my face and my tits. I cannot protest … but I can squirm and wiggle my behind invitingly a little, and I do. I can feel the closeness of body heat through my butt and the backs of my legs as the stud is moved close. There is the jingle of keys, the click of a lock, and deep groan of what sounds like relief.

“My, Stamper, aren’t you eager,” the woman’s voice purrs, teasing the stud.

Something warm and fleshy brushes my slick gash, seeking my hole. It finds it, presses gently, and then a deep, masculine grunt accompanies something big, firm and warm that slides into my cunt all the way to the hilt in one smooth thrust. Full and heavy balls slap against my jingling clit and hips and thighs press against my ass.

“Nnnnnnggggmmmmm!” I moan around Master’s cock as the stud drives the breath out of me. A warm, full, tingling sensation floods my body, emanating out from my full pussy that gratefully squeezes its new visitor. I have no idea who is fucking me, only that Master Daimon has selected and approved of them so that I can be pleased as I please him.

I start bobbing my head up and down with abandon. Nice master has arranged for me to be mated on my first evening…I feel so treasured and cared for, so special and important, I want this to be his best blowjob ever and I give it my all.

“Go for it Stamper! Ride that filly good and hard!” the woman’s voice urges excitedly, and I hear the slap of a crop on skin – not mine, fortunately, but I suspect on Stamper, as his big dick slides out of me and then back in hard with another grunt. There are no hands on me – he is a pony, ponies do not have hands, right? – but I feel the closeness of his strong legs against my thighs as he starts to pump me hard and fast, snorting and grunting like a genuine horse in primal animal lust.

Each thrust slaps against my ass and makes it quiver while filling me with meat and pleasure. Each movement of that nice dick in me, each slap of those fat nuts against my clit, sends a lovely wave of joy into my body that builds and builds. I respond to it by sucking Master ever more enthusiastically, and suddenly he is pumping his load into my mouth; thick cum I gulp down greedily – I am trained to always swallow, no matter what.

Stamper is grunting loudly as he bangs me deep, I can feel the edge approaching, and I guess he must be close.

“Cum for me, Lydia,” Master Daimon whispers to me.

Slave Girl #9

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Loving the Alien

I had a bit of a brainstorm session today, looking at possibilities for future stories. One of the areas I am going to explore is science fiction erotica, probably with a bit of a BDSM twist because, well, I like that sort of thing. However, when it comes to science fiction, I like mine to be realistic – that is, I like it based on real science, and not just be a fantasy story with ray-guns. I like fantasy too, but I like to keep it as fantasy. If it’s magic, it’s magic and magic follows it’s own internal rules; if it’s science, it bares a relation to the science that we know.

Now a frequent theme in many SF stories are alien-human hybrids. It even forms a large chunk of pop-culture both in conspiracy theories about UFOs and in TV and film series like Star Trek.

I have a problem with hybrids.

Alien Sex

Basically, all life on Earth shares a common origin: we all evolved from a common ancestor, a bacterial life-form from some three or four billion years ago, swimming through the oceans of a primordial, meteor and comet bombarded planet. My point here is not how humble those origins are, but that we are related – distantly – to every other living thing on our planet. If there are aliens out there, they will not be related to us at all. Even given the panspermia theory – that once life evolved in one corner of the galaxy it could spread to the rest by chance or design – it means that alien life will be more distantly related to us than any life here on Earth.

Think about that.

While you share around a third of your genes with the plants in your garden, you cannot actually have sex with them (not in a way that would produce offspring, anyway). Any grey-skinned three-fingered big-eyed UFO-borne super-intelligent aliens are going to be more distantly related to you than that. They may not have sex as we know it, they may not reproduce in a way we recognise, and they will almost certainly not have their reproductive equipment in the same place as ours.

By the same token they will probably not use the same kind of proteins, fats, and carbohydrates as us – if they use them at all – so their food would at best be inert to us and at worst be poisonous.

So basically, if there are aliens, we won;t be loving them in more than the platonic sense.

Interesting Aliens

That does not mean they cannot be interesting, though. With just a few changes, life on Earth could have been very different. We seem to live on a world beset with cataclysms that have wiped out whole dynasties of creatures now and again, wiping the slate clean for another type of creature to come to the fore – the classic example we all know is the destruction of the dinosaurs that made way for the age of mammals.

The ascent of the mammals was not a given. Unlike earlier presentations, we now know that dinosaurs were not sluggish and stupid creatures, but were almost certainly warm-blooded, quick, and some had brain-to-body-size ratios to match those of their mammalian contemporaries. Indeed, most researchers are of the opinion that the dinosaurs did not in fact die out and one branch of the dinosaur family made it through and lives beside us today: the birds. The rise of the mammals as the dominant land-animals seems to owe as much to luck as anything else.

Turning the clock back further, and consider that when the first lobe-finned lung-fish crawled out of a swamp and struggled its way across a spar of sand to a deeper pool, it was only fluke that it had four limbs, and not two, or six, or even five. That creature, something like tiktalic discovered on Ellesmere Island, went on to give rise to all the dynasties of land-living animals since. At that time, the Earth’s land masses were drifting together to form the super-continent Pangea. What if it had been drifting apart instead? Could different continents have given rise to different types of land-living animals before finally drifting back together?

There’s no reason for aliens to have four limbs and stand upright like us, the only reason we see them this way in movies and TV is to fit a human actor into the alien suit!

I created an alien species for an SF story when I wrote under the Livia Lynn Rose pen-name. Instead of encountering them in the flesh, human explorers discovered traces of them on a ravaged world, and a team of archaeologists were sent in to try and figure out what they had been before a cataclysm wiped them out. Some features they shared with humans, having a recognisable front and back end, eyes, mouths, and jointed limbs. But they had six limbs, not four, and the most interesting thing about them was the way they had sex.

All of the children born were male. When they reached about half of their final size, they became sexually mature as males, and functioned that way for a few years. Then they underwent a menopause as they continued to grow, before maturing as female at their full growth.

Naturally, this lead to an interesting culture. Rather than forming monogamous relationships, they instead formed broader communities. At sexual maturity males would leave their mothers to live in large “temples” that females would visit when they wished to mate. To avoid in-breeding they would be sent to temples in other communities, which would bond different communities together in a kind of “marriage” on a communal scale.


Once again, here’s an excerpt from that story. Hope you like it!

We reach the refectory where the smell of food cooking tickles my taste buds. Unfortunately, as we are still in free-fall, the food has to be served in cans and tubes. Thankfully, the seats have straps to hold us down, and I grab my breakfast and take a seat as other members of our expedition filter in.

Looking at them, the humbleness of my roots is reinforced, because unlike them I am completely natural. Other than some necessary medical procedures to join this trip, I am as I was born from my mother’s womb. Dr. Singh is over three hundred years old, and does not look a day over twenty-five. Alison Craver sails past, graceful and perfect with golden skin and hair, sixty years old and looking a perfect eighteen. My skin has moles, freckles, blemishes. Until recently I had to exercise daily to keep my muscle tone, and watch every calorie to maintain my figure. Next to Alison Craver I am an ugly duckling.

At twenty-two I am the youngest person in the room by several decades. While I’m honored to be included, I know that I am woefully overshadowed by my peers.

The lights dim low and one wall lights up with color as it transforms into a visual display of stars. The rich, translucent wisps of a planetary nebula fill half of the star field with shimmering color through which more distant stars glitter. It is the tombstone of a dead star close to the star system we are currently approaching. In the center of the field of stars, just to one side of the nebula, a brighter star than all the rest glows soft yellow. It has no name, just a long catalogue number, and was considered completely unremarkable until recently.

The sight is breathtakingly beautiful, and at the same time very lonely. We are a long, long way from home.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Dr. Singh’s voice carries through the room, although he is off to one side and out of my field of view. “You will be happy to know that we have arrived safely at our destination star system, with just a little distance to go. We have communicated ahead and the vanguard team has already assembled habitats for us on Gomorrah.”

The image zooms in toward the central star and then to one side, where it focuses on a small, bleak ball of rock that the first prospectors named Gomorrah. It is an odd world, massing perhaps twice that of Earth, in the green zone around its primary star that is conducive to life, except the planet is almost airless – as were the other planets in the solar system. Even the large gas giants are much smaller than would have been expected, and denuded of lighter, volatile elements. Gomorrah’s thin atmosphere was like that of Mars, barely enough to lift the fine dust on the surface in periodic storms.

In their explorations, they had discovered something new, something utterly remarkable. First of all, some of the surface showed signs of having been weathered by wind and water. Surface features bore resemblances to tectonic processes which no longer dominated. Then, in one area, beneath rolling sand dunes, a radar scan had shown lines and squares of a grid pattern. When they dug into the sand, they found cut stone blocks first, and then complete structures.

Incredibly ancient, long buried, and undoubtedly made by entities not remotely human, they were buildings. Never before had mankind encountered advanced life, let alone another sentient, tool-using species.

“The current working theory is that this entire star-system was scoured by the supernova explosion that created the Lepidus Nebula,” Dr. Singh continues. “This explosion would have blasted the Gomorrah system with gamma radiation of intensity sufficient to strip away the atmospheres of all the smaller planets, and severely deplete those of the gas giant and ice giant planets. Even the primary star will have lost a significant quantity of mass.”

“Fire and brimstone from the sky,” I whisper softly. Trek glances across at me, but no one else seems to have noticed as Dr. Singh continues.

“This accounts for the preservations of the ruins,” Dr. Singh explains. “Without any significant atmosphere, weathering would be vastly reduced. As volcanic activity out gassed some replacement atmosphere, the primary site was buried beneath volcanic ash and sand dunes, leaving it in near-pristine condition just few million years after the catastrophe.”

“How long ago was that?” one of the other postgraduate students asks.

“Approximately four hundred and fifty million years ago,” Dr. Singh replies calmly. “At that time, the most advanced creatures on earth were fish, and life had yet to venture onto land.

“This is undoubtedly the oldest ruin any of us will have excavated. This is why our numbers include a number of paleontologists as well as us archaeologists,” Dr. Singh smiles. “This is the very first example of complex life evolved away from Earth that we have ever discovered, even if it is extinct and fossilized. Our expedition, my colleagues, is the most momentous one ever undertaken by any archeologist or paleontologist, ever…so, no pressure!”

A ripple of nervous laughter flows through the room. Perhaps I am not so alone in feeling overwhelmed by these events now. We are a group of a hundred and twenty archeologists and paleontologists, as well as other disciplines from physics to philology, and we are only the first of many.


On every side of me I was being caressed, stroked, and aroused. The strange, pale figures with their pale skin, long limbs and dark eyes seemed sensual and indefinably erotic as my body arched in pleasure. There is no fear, only delight as my sex became wetter and wetter. The leader of them moves me easily, and his dual phallus parted my pussy-lips and nuzzled at my ass, and despite my innocence I yielded to my instincts with a low moan and pushed back. With a cry of delight I was slowly entered and filled to perfection…

I blink awake, hot and flustered from my erotic dream. If there had been anyone there they would have seen me blushing furiously at my sinful fantasy. Thankfully, the Gomorrah biomes were large and spacious enough that we had rooms to ourselves, small though they were. The huge transparent domes had been built by the advance members of the expedition at the edge of the dune field beneath which we dug for our ruins. They contained laboratories, a hospital, apartments, even parks and hydroponic farms.

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No Plugs Today!

Life isn’t just about sex, ropes, and handcuffs, even for me.

There’s lots more in life than that, though I might not write about it in my stories. Stories, fiction, are fantasies we use to escape and to plan ahead for the things that happen that we would really like to happen.

In between times, is real life.

My Real Life

Most people who have followed me on Facebook will know I have a lot to say about mental health and related issues. I’m on the autistic spectrum myself – although I’m high-functioning – and I’m keen on supporting other ASD sufferers. I’m also a part-time writer, my full time “job” is looking after a close friend of mine who has been suffering from depression for the last three years. A good year and a half ago it got so bad she needed someone to look after her pretty much full time; and as I was the person who realised it, I got the job.

It’s been the hardest job I’ve ever done, too, and the most rewarding. She’s not out of the woods yet, but she’s made huge progress, and there’s now an outside chance we’ll both start making some positive moves soon. People with depression can and do get better, if they get the right support.

Mental Health

I’m grateful that here in the UK, the government provides for carers like me. I’m sick of hearing about grafters and scroungers – frankly, no-one needs a better incentive than just trying to live day by day on what we get. It’s not generous, it’s barely even enough to live on, and we do it because we don’t have much choice. Were I looking for work, there’s no guarantee I’d find it; when there are three jobless for every vacancy, basic math says that no matter how badly all three want that job, two of them won’t get it. You do not need to starve people to get more into work, you need to have work people can get into. Sure, there are some grafters and scroungers out there, but seriously, not everyone who gets handed a redundancy notice magically becomes a layabout.

Recently, our esteemed Prime Minister declared that it wasn’t fair that some people on benefits got more than some people who are working, and that capping benefits would be “fair”. I think he’s confusing a benefits issue for a low wages issue myself. We’re all told the economy is recovering, but no-one in work is getting a pay-rise, so where the hell is all the money going? I’m glad I’m not the only one asking questions.

I do not pretend to know the answers, but I am pretty sure business as usual isn’t going to cut it for much longer.

My Political Views

My Reality

I have strong opinions on climate change, too. Having studied physics, I know how science works, and frankly 99% of the claims made by climate-change deniers are bogus, designed to obfuscate and spread doubt rather than come up with any actual explanations of their own. This is because they do not have any explanations, the debate – as far as the science is concerned – is done and dusted: climate change is real, get over it.

Solar Power

Really, I try and look at most issues from a the point of view of gathering facts and weighing things up. I read an article once that described our thought processes as consisting of an inner Homer Simpson, and an inner Mr Spock. Mr Spock is logical, intellectual, and weighs up the evidence carefully before reaching a decision, and he makes good decisions; the only problem with Spock is that he’s slow and takes a lot of time to make a decision. Homer is lazy, sticks with what he knows, and makes judgements emotionally, and very often gets them wrong – but he’s fast. If you need to make a fast decision, Homer is your man – go with your gut, and act. If you need to make the right decision, and you have the time, decide with Spock because he gets it right. And do not be afraid to be wrong…everyone is.

Study Both Sides

But if someone wants you to make a decision with Homer that you have time to make with Spock – if they are appealing to your emotions, especially your fears, over your reason, beware: they probably want you to make what is for you a bad decision.


I’m a fervent supporter of good healthcare. Here in the UK we have the National Health Service, often described as our greatest national asset. It basically means that everyone can get free healthcare for anything necessary. A recent study placed it as the best overall healthcare system out of eleven developed nations studied (and yes, that includes the USA, which came in eleventh). That includes access to contraception and abortion for women. The cost of this system is quite low, too. Partly because it’s run efficiently, and partly by it’s very nature. You see, because I don’t pay for it, if I get sick and I am worried it might turn into something serious, I go see my doctor, and he fixes the problem. Because I’m not paying, I don’t worry about the cost. If I had to worry about co-payments, I might not go unless it was serious, and a serious condition costs a lot more to treat than a mild one. In a complete non-profit system like the NHS, preventative care is the cheapest and best option, and it works.


That isn’t to say that the NHS hasn’t got it’s problems, but I prefer it’s problems to the option of maybe not being treated at all if I get seriously ill. I’m not worried about Ebola, we have a system in place to deal with problems like that.


I have a simple solution for terrorism, and it goes like this:

1) Don’t be afraid.

2) See option 1.


Don’t forget to vote.

See, no plugs!

I am a writer, and I write erotic fiction. But that isn’t all I do and or all I am. Nor, in fact, is anyone else on this planet. We are all complex, wonderful, amazing people.

I think that’s awesome.

Normal service will be resumed on Friday!

Do Not Disturb

Dream on!


It’s Masturbation Monday once again! So here’s a question: what do you dream about when you are bringing yourself off? Now me, my fantasies are easy to get to know – just buy my books and you can read them. The great thing about dreaming sex is that there is no way your imaginary partner can fail to do exactly what you’d like them to do without prompting. The bad thing is, they are imaginary….but that’s not so bad, really, when you consider that everything has to start as a dream in someone’s head before it becomes real. Take that dream, and it will one day be a reality.

Masturbation Monday

Except for the ones with cartoon characters, or stuff like that.

You know what I mean! OK, on with the excerpt: this one is from Trained for Love, and I’m going to give you two excerpts instead of one, because I’m feeling nice. First the fantasy, then the reality….


Excerpt #1:

“Yes!” I shout to the empty apartment. “This time I’m going to get you Brian Forman!” I pull a napkin out of my purse, one he had used earlier and smell it, inhaling deeply. His cologne, his spicy man’s musk, they cling to it and make my heart sing, and my pussy for that matter. Something about Brian, about his quiet strength, his firm confidence, his perfectly controlled touch, just had my heart doing cartwheels for him. In spite of the fact we’d never slept together, no man ever turned me on the way he did just by being there.

I kick my shoes off, throw off my jacket, and waltz joyfully across the floor in stockinged feet, imagining he is dancing with me. Through the door of my bedroom, and my legs bang against my bed and I fall across it.

“Oh, you devil!” I cry in delight as I land on the bed. “Take me!” I imagine him standing over me, then pouncing on me to rip my clothes off.

I all but tear open my blouse and wriggle out of my bra, rubbing my breasts and tweaking my nipples, imagining he is kissing them, sucking them, even biting on them a little painfully. Hot wetness saturates my panties at the thought and touch.

“Mmmm yes!” I cry, working my skirt up to my waist and thrusting down my panties and panty-hose and kicking them off. My fingers slide over my exposed pussy, imagining it is his large hand stroking my thick curls and pouting lips up and down slowly, making me moan and opening my legs as wide as they can go.

“Please, Brian,” I croon aloud, rubbing my fingers up and down. In my mind’s eye he kisses down my body to place soft kisses on my hot, steaming pussy, and I stroke my clit with a finger slick with my own juices in substitute for his tongue. He was so careful and considerate, I imagined his tongue would be like a virtuoso, playing me like a musician with an instrument, and I take several minutes of teasing myself, making my pussy drip my lust as I teasingly rub my throbbing button.

My free hand fumbles with my bedside table drawer, and takes out BOB, the single girl’s alternative to a man. Please let Brian have a nice cock this big, I pray. I had heard stories of seven or eight inch dicks, but I’ve never seen one personally.

Pressing BOB between my breasts to warm him up, I continue to tease myself, then move him down and switch him on to rub his throbbing length up and down my gash.

“Oh yes Brian,” I croon. I flip BOB on, and he does what no man can do which is vibrate. Teasing my clit with the tip of him, then moving him down between my slick folds, I sigh with yearning.

“This is where I want you Brian,” I moan to the heavens. “Right here, this is what you missed, this is what I want you to do!”

I imagine his musk, his lust, the feel of his heavy, muscular body over mine, pressing me into silken bedclothes as he parts my legs and enters me just the way BOB meets a moment of resistance, followed by a smooth, easy slide into my hungry pussy. Like BOB he is firm and meaty, holding me safe in his powerful arms as he starts to pump it in and out.

“Oh yes, Brian, oh yes!” I cry out, urging him on harder and faster, and BOB obliges. With one hand pumping and the other rubbing my clit with slick fingers I squirm about on the bed, imagining it is Brian making love to me – no, fucking me – to ecstasy.

“Fuck me, Brian, yes!” I squeal. My pussy tingles lustfully and suddenly spasms with a rippling contraction that flows through my groin and up my spine. My back arches and my hips jerk up at my phantom lover as another delicious wave flows through me. BOB grinds in all the way, and my fingers press and grind my clitty as hard as I can as it burns and pulses. My whole body jerks, locks rigid, and I mewl with fulfilled need, then collapse back onto the bed, spent.

“I’m going to get you, Brian Forman. This time I will not let you get away,” I whisper hoarsely to BOB.

Excerpt #2:

“She’s a little shy, so go easy everyone,” Dominic’s voice sounds very close, and I hear the sound of the cage door opening and a tug on my collar as I am leashed. I give a soft mewl of need as that gesture did what it always did, making my cunt hunger and drool. Another tug urges me forward, though getting out of the cage blind and unable to use my arms is neither easy nor dignified. My feet are guided to the ground, the cage must rest on a table, and I totter to them, legs weak for a moment.

My skin feels hot from the gaze of a dozen or more pairs of eyes. I can smell incense, air freshener, the musk of sex. There are a lot of people in here, and I can hear their murmur and the whisper of their movement.

“Walk!” Master Dominic commands, with a tug on the leash. I start to strut forward as I have been taught. For the last week Master has been drilling me while I wear a blindfold, so I step confidently where he guides me. My heels tap against a hard floor, my tail – a thick, long plume – swishes down the backs of my legs. The plug up my bum shifts familiarly now. I can hear compliments from all sides as I am paraded around, giving me a mix of pride and shame in myself. When commanded to stop, I stand tall, head slightly down.

“Delicious, almost like my Snow Drop here,” a male voice speaks close enough for me to feel the owner’s breath on my cheek. A hand strokes across my breast, and I shiver as my nipple hardens. Surprisingly his touch and his words calm my nerves. I cannot be the only fetish slave in the room, and he is treating me as Master Dominic has trained me.

I am paraded on. A woman strokes my hair and my tail, complimenting me on how luxurious it is. A man tickles my clit to make me moan with frustration. A tug on my leash moves me on.

“Beautiful,” Brian’s voice is heard for the first time, and I nearly jump, he is so close. “Easy, little filly,” he soothes as large, warm hands stroke my flanks and my breasts, then my cheek. That touch has me shivering with desire, and my heart sings inside me. I cannot help but release a soft moan of joy, and I feel my cunt drip, the warm liquid splashing on my inner thighs.

“She’s got the hots for you, Brian,” a woman’s voice laughs close by.

“I’d say,” Master Dominic agrees. “I said she was special, Brian. You got the best reaction, would you like to have first ride of her?” his voice makes my heart pound so loud I barely hear as he adds in an undertone: “She’s an anal virgin – I’ve had her plugged for a few weeks to loosen her up, but she’s had no orgasm for that duration, so she’s aching for it, and I think right now she’d be eager for you to take her.”

Oh god, yes please – any way Brian wants me, he can have me. My heart sings ecstatically, everything Dominic has done has lead to this moment, and I love him for it, love him for every thrashing, every sexual use, and every restraint he placed on me to bring me to Brian.

“I’d be delighted,” Brian chuckles. His hand touches my exposed sex, stroking a finger up my groove to my clit, so lightly and delicately it makes me mewl softly, and I nearly cum. “She’s perfect, she really is. What do you want for her?”

“Just that you take her in private,” Dominic says, and I feel him pass the leash. “She answers to Slut right now, but if you take her you can rename her – I think she’d like that.”

I feel tug on the leash and start forward automatically, I can smell Brian’s cologne and feel his closeness to me. There is a smattering of applause behind us, my heart races and my head spins, have I been crowned queen? My heart thinks so, although my knees feel weak as I feel us pass into a smaller space, and hear a door close behind us.

“Well now, no rush,” Brian purrs in my ear, and his hands touch my face again, and I feel the muzzle being removed. “Dom says you are well-trained and eager, let’s see how eager.” His hand strokes my cunt-lips again, and a finger slides up inside me for a moment, and I nearly swoon with pleasure, shuddering and squeezing his finger as I moan softly. “He wasn’t bloody kidding,” Brian says, clearly startled by the depth of my reaction. His finger withdraws and he puts it in my mouth for me to lap clean with my tongue, which I do hungrily.

“You have a very sweet mouth,” he sighs. “You are a very eager slut…kneel.”

Sinking to my knees, breathing deeply, I can smell musk and hear clothing being discarded. I am with Brian, and he is getting naked, and my cunt is begging to be fucked by him. Weirdest of all, or perhaps most exciting, he has no idea that it’s me. Like a romantic fantasy of the master claiming his humble slave-girl, he is about to use me.

His large hands grasp my head and his cock is steered through the ring gag into my mouth, a drop of salty pre-cum is lapped up by my greedy tongue as I taste his cock for the very first time.

He is fat, barely fitting through the ring which is larger than I normally wear, sliding into my mouth, hitting the back of my well-trained throat. I press my lips around his shaft and slide my tongue around it too. I suck hard, trying to get as much of his cock into my mouth as I can.

“Easy,” Brian chuckles indulgently, and starts to fuck my mouth with slow, easy strokes, picking up speed and tempo as I suck him as best I can, putting heart and soul into it. If all else goes wrong, I want this to be the best blow-job he has ever had. He certainly seems to appreciate it, groaning and gasping before long at all.

“You must just love the taste of cum,” he groans, withdrawing from my mouth and leaving me bereft, giving a little mewl of disappointment. “You won’t get it yet, though. Let’s see how eager you are for me to take your ass’s cherry.”

I have never had anal sex before, it’s not something I ever wanted to do. Right now I don’t care about that, I want his cock in me any way I can have it. I make enough little sounds for him to get that message clearly, too.

He lifts me to my feet, then up into his arms. He is very strong, and I am small, I feel like a doll in his grasp as he lays me on what feels like a silk-covered bed face-down, and secures my ankle-cuffs to keep my legs wide apart. He releases my arm-binder and spreads my arms above my head, also wide apart, and secures them. I am spread-eagled face-down, and I squirm and arch my back to present my tailed ass to him. He runs his hands over my body, reaching around me to cup my breasts and tweak my nipples. Those hands move on to squeeze my bum, then spank me lightly, before teasing my dripping pussy.

I feel a tug and relaxing of the chains that hold the tail-plug in, then on the plug itself. Suddenly it is stretching me painfully as he pulls it firmly out of me. I whimper in pain at the thickest part, and then sigh in relief when it is gone. My stinging sphincter is so slack that I can feel the air circulating through it. Apprehension gives way to need as his weight tips the mattress slightly between my wanton legs. With a shift of my hips I raise my ass as high as I can for him. One large, strong hand grips me tight as something wet and cool dribbles over my tortured asshole.

“You really want this ass-fucking, don’t you?” he says in amazement. An incoherent reply is all I can give as he grabs both my hips and something warm and throbbing presses against my slick opening. He presses, and I squeak as I feel his girth stretch me wider than any plug did as his cockhead enters my ass. “Nice and tight,” he groans, and presses harder, slowly taking me inch by inch, wringing soft little sounds of pain and pleasure from me. It hurts to take him like this, but I long for him to fill me and I yearn to please him. I whimper as he grinds in deeper, yet I keep my bum up high to urge him on.

My wonderful lover is fucking me at last!

“What a desperate, dirty, hungry little slut-whore you are,” his voice growls as he goes deeper, I feel his hips press against my ass, and his balls brush my hot, dripping slit, making me moan again. He is all the way in, fucking my virgin ass with his huge cock which seems to fill my entire torso. He starts to withdraw a little, then slides it back in, and I moan louder as he starts to fuck me in earnest. I squirm and wriggle my butt to encourage him as much as I can. For me it feels wonderful!

He doesn’t need that much encouraging, he starts to fuck me deeper and harder, while I whimper, mewl, squeak and moan. It hurts some, it feels very satisfying, and I am in heaven. Brian is fucking me good and hard, and what pleases him is my only desire. Each deep thrust now slaps his balls against my dripping hole, and his cock is pressing on parts of my cunt through the thin membrane that separates my holes that make me moan louder.

Never had I imagined it might be possible to cum from being banged in the ass, but right now it’s happening. I can already feel the hot tingle in my empty cunt, the warm ecstatic wave building inside me as he bangs me harder and harder.

Suddenly he drives his cock in deep, and I can feel it throb and twitch, and that sets off a chain reaction I try – and fail – to stifle. Even as he pumps his thick cream into my ass, my cunt spasms wetly and my body shudders with joy as I cum. With my mouth locked open I cannot prevent the throaty moans escaping, then he amplifies it by reaching around my hip to rub my clit hard with his fingers, and I scream as a second, much stronger hot spasm takes me, and my body twists and bucks under his.

He doesn’t let up for several seconds, making me quiver and shudder far more than he as he withdraws from my gaping, abused ass. A last rub of my clit and I squeal and tremble, and a last spasm makes my cunt quiver and helps my sphincter close at last.

With a groan I slump boneless on the bed, thoroughly fucked and abused. Not only used, but fulfilled to being in heaven. Brian has had me!

Amazon: http://myBook.to/TrainedForLove

Barnes & Noble: http://tinyurl.com/p828pkc

Smashwords: http://tinyurl.com/qayqyv5

If you liked this, check out the other #MasturbationMonday posts here: http://masturbationmonday.kaylalords.com/masturbation-monday-week-5/

Fellatio Friday

It’s a simple thing, the humble blow-job or the simple cunnilingus. For some it is an aperitif, for others it is the main course, while a few like it as their desert. It is enjoyed by those of every sexual orientation and gender identification, and for some is their first introduction to sexual contact. No matter who you are, or what your level of experience and skill, you can always make your lover smile by using your silver tongue.


It appears so very much in erotic imagery and literature that it really deserves some attention. I will confess in the days when I was both innocent and educated (they didn’t last long) I thought “oral sex” meant talking about it…but thankfully that didn’t last. Nonetheless there is a fixation in Western culture with oral sex.

Why? It would seem to be almost counterproductive to the whole point of sex, which at the end of the day is making babies. Then again, so is contraception or masturbation…



At the end of the day, sex is not just about pregnancy. It’s emotional bonding, recreation, and relaxation all rolled into one. Sex is good for us, multiple studies have proved this, and far more so than just in the mechanical process of producing the next generation. Using contraception is a must these days, or we’ll have an ever increasing population to feed.

So here’s the first thing about oral sex: it’s fun.



Then there’s the second thing about giving head…you are giving. There is no pleasure in giving someone oral beyond the knowledge that you are giving them pleasure – which can be a big thrill, but isn’t as good as actually getting it. You are showing someone that you love them, care about them, and want to please them even if you aren’t getting anything beyond that out of it. To many it also demonstrates an act of submission, and in a great many of my stories the submissive happily gives head to the dominant/dominatrix as a sign of their capitulation.

There’s the good old sixty-nine position, where this can become mutual; but it still takes an effort for your partner to be pleasing you (especially if you are distracting them as best you can at the same time).

Number two about oral sex: it’s altruistic.


Turning my initial points on their head, giving head is from a point of view of getting pregnant, perfectly safe. It allows people to be intimate without risk of pregnancy if contraceptives are an issue. Sadly the same is not true of most STDs, although you are likely getting a close-up view of the area likely to be infected so you’ve a better chance to assess the risks before you start.

At the end of the day, it’s safe(ish).


On the part of the receiver, there is an element of trust involved – after all, there are teeth in close proximity to their most sensitive parts.

So oral sex can be said to help build up trust.



When you are giving head, you have a lot more control than you usually get in actual sex; you have hands and tongue and lips to manipulate, caress, and apply pressure and heat and wetness in a variety of ways. You have a lot more options for teasing and pleasing, especially the teasing part; I know dominant types that go down on their submissive partners to take control of them and make them beg for release.

You can use oral sex to gain better control in many interesting ways.


If you are after a quickie, it’s easy for one person to unzip a fly or lift a skirt for a little licking and sucking. It’s also possible to be getting some fun out of sight, even if you are not in complete private. On the subject of my last post, if you have more than one lover, the usual access points may be occupied by others, and one must make do…

So oral can be convenient.


When, Where, and How

I’ve touched on this above, but the when’s and where’s of giving head are worth a mention too. There are a lot of good reasons for starting with oral; it’s a great way of getting your partner into a really good state of arousal toward the end of foreplay. If you are inexperienced in sex (and we all were once) oral is a good way of making up for it. Young men often suffer from the problem of “jumping the gun” and taking the first bullet orally can help them take aim with the second with better control (I love metaphor).

Whether or not your partner climaxes, a little good oral can be an opener to so much more later.

For some people, it’s the main event. Whether you go mutually or prefer to be served, the oral is the point. For some couples into BDSM, one may be locked into a chastity device, in which case oral is one of the only ways they can please their partner, and their own pleasure has to wait on their owner’s. Needless to say, if you’ve spent a week in a chastity belt, the release (when you get it) can be awesome. That’s kind of the point.

For others, oral can come toward the end (no pun intended – really) of a session. Perhaps as a last hurrah, or a nice wind down for your partner (or a reward for a submissive), or a little tease to get them looking forward to next time around.

There are no rules, just find the way you and your lover like it. It’s relaxing, fun, and can contribute a lot to your relationship…

Slave Girl #4


Here’s a little excerpt from Lydia’s Path #4: The Training, with some interesting oral introductions…

A bell that wasn’t attached to either of us jingles loudly nearby.

“Bedroom duty, come along!” She takes my hand and leads me to the master bedroom, both of us still naked. Again I am reminded of what Mistress told me, that I was to get used to being nude any time, at any place, in any company. The huge bed in the master bedroom was tousled, and so were its occupants: they had clearly been making love recently.

“Master, Mistress, how would you like to make use of us?” Amanda asks politely, kneeling at the foot of the bed, and drawing me down beside her.

“Two delightful slaves,” Mistress Trudy kicks off the covers, and spreads her legs, her gash is wet with cum. “Come along, Lydia, you should know the rule about cum in this house now.”

“Yes Mistress,” I crawl up the bed and put my tongue to good use in her cunt, while next to me Amanda begins to ‘clean’ Master Phil’s dick. So this is what life as a slave will be like, performing sexual services alongside another hot girl…I like this, and I could get to love it as I lap Master’s cum from Mistress’ hole, happily eating her to a nice climax. At the same time, I cannot help a little tug of jealousy. Amanda was getting to give head to Master, she got the cock to suck on! I’m bi, yes, but I do like cocks.

As soon as we are done, we are sent to dress ourselves in our maid uniforms while they bathe. A short while later we click into the master bathroom to the tinkling of the little bells attached to our clit-rings, skirts flounced out with layers of petticoat so that they swish and sway with every step, and so short they barely reach our stocking-tops. Both of us have heaving bosoms thanks to our tightly cinched corsets, and with the cool air circulating under my skirts I am very conscious of the fact that I am not wearing panties.

“Pass me the towel, Lydia,” Mistress starts to rise out of the huge bath she is sharing with her husband.

“Of course Mistress,” I bob a curtsey, and take the towel and hold it for her. As I step close to the bath her husband reaches languidly out to slide a wet hand up my inner thigh, under my skirt where he strokes my naked slit quite casually.

“Oh!” I gasp in surprise.

He spanks my bare buttock sharply.

“Bad girl,” he scolds. “A slut like you should expect to be felt up, dressed like that!”

“I’m sorry Master Phillip,” I apologize. My face goes very red, and my pussy goes very wet. His hand hasn’t moved, it feels hot there on my bum, and I’m actually trembling with nerves. “It’s just, I’m not used to…it just surprised me, Master.”

“That’s a spanking for later,” Mistress notes as she takes the towel, and I help wrap it around her.

I go with Mistress to her adjoining bedroom, and start assisting her to dry her hair and dress. Catching glimpses of myself in the mirror, I realize just how sexy I look in this outfit, and also how much it stressed my inferiority. I start to understand what Master meant: I look like gift-packaged sex, and it makes me feel daring.

I jump as a hand slips around my shoulder and fondles one of my tits, making me drop the dress I was holding for Mistress. Master Phillip had come up behind me, and was making free with my tits, perkily presented on a plate by my tight corset and low-cut dress.

“That’s two,” Mistress sighs. “Pick it up Lydia, and do try to concentrate.”

To pick up the dress, I will have to bend at the hips, presenting my bare ass to Master. I don’t protest or move; I just do as I am told. Sure enough he moves his hand to feel my pussy, and a shiver runs through me and my cunt tingles. He’s deliberately taking huge liberties with my body, and I cannot stop him. Then I realize that I do not want to stop him. I straighten up slowly, and his hand remains where it is. I like the attention.

“Your slut is rather wet, Trudy,” Master remarks to Mistress, apparently ignoring the fact that I am listening. “I think she likes earning spanks.”

“That may be,” Mistress replies, as I help her into her dress. “Amanda, take your trainee over your knee, please, ten spanks.”

Amanda obediently sits herself on a bedroom chair, and pats her lap. For a moment I feel butterflies again –not at being spanked, but because it is another slave doing it. Amanda, I realize, is my superior in every way. I walk to her lap, and lie myself over it meekly. Her hand doesn’t stroke or feel me up; she just delivers ten sharp blows to my derriere with me counting aloud after each. I am clearly the least important person in this room, and I return to assist Mistress with my heart in my high-heeled shoes, thoroughly chastened.

Just as expected, Master’s hand slips up my skirt again, but this time I don’t react. Only when he strokes my slit with fluttering fingers do I give a soft little moan, and wiggle myself slightly against his hand.

“You’re learning, dear,” Mistress says cryptically, raising an amused eyebrow in my direction. I raise my chin a little and smile, feeling a warm little thrill to accompany the warm tingle in my pussy.

“Amanda, take Lydia and start showing her duties to her. Make sure she knows how to do them.” So begins a long day of work and play. Late in the afternoon, Mistress summons me, and presents me with my slave contract. The sight of it makes my heart thump like a hammer. This is what I have wanted for years, and now it is here it is: exciting in a way that makes my hot little sex all but steam, but also very frightening at the level of commitment required of me.

Amazon: http://myBook.to/LP4-TheTraining

Barnes & Noble: http://tinyurl.com/q4rcoad

Smashwords: http://tinyurl.com/o9r3y7d