Love Plus One…or Two…or Three…

I don’t just write BDSM erotica, I have also dabbled with other aspects of the erotica genre, although I did so under another pen-name, that of Livia Lynn Rose. When I started getting published, it was under both pen-names, and turning out stories for both was very hard work. Under Penelope Syn I wrote about bondage and added a touch of paranormal here and there, with a few hints of girl-on-girl as well as primarily boy-on-girl action. As Livia Lynn Rose I wrote in the less hardcore “Male Dom” genre which is basically BDSM with the domination but not the bondage or the masochism, as well as ménage. Let’s be honest, who hasn’t dreamed of having more than one lover? Some of my work got pretty steamy, and it focused on mutliple guys and one girl encounters, and I had fun writing it.

When the time came that I had to start doing all the marketing on social media, I realized I just could not keep up with the task of writing and marketing under two separate pen-names. After a few months of trying, we realized that it just wasn’t going to work.

I had a long skype conference with my editor and publishers, and we made the hard decision to drop writing as Livia Lynn Rose and focus everything on writing as Penelope Syn.

However, we still had some material I had written as LLR and it seemed a shame to waste it…

So my publisher made the decision to publish my last prepared story, The Astronomer, which had been written to be published as a one-off, under Penelope Syn instead. While we didn’t want to cross genres to much with one pen-name, he decided to sample the water and see if it would work.

And forgot to change the name on the cover, which is why those that look at my author page see a book with the pen-name Livia Lynn Rose on the cover. We could have pulled it and fixed it…but actually it might give a lead-in to the stories I have written under that pen-name, so what the hell.

Ménage Itself

Who hasn’t dreamt at some time of making love to more than one person at once? Not many of us. Ménage is basically that, from the French ménage-a-trios or a threesome, although it need not be limited to three. In the Lydia series she has a few orgiastic encounters, but ménage is usually specific to being one of one gender and the other participants being of the other. The scenes I have written are usually two or three men and one girl (more men than that and you generally have a gang-bang).

While it’s great to fantasize about, it’s actually quite hard to actually do. Logistically, getting into a position where more than one guy can enter you at the same time is not always easy (although it is great when you do manage it) and it can take so much concentration that it sometimes, ah, detracts from the moment, shall we say?

All that said, it can be amazing if you are the minority sex, shall we say. It’s also incredibly erotic in a sensual way, and that is not what you may expect. You are the absolute centre of attention, and everyone present is trying to please you.

Obviously, you can’t try this if you have a jealous partner, but I guess that goes without saying. I’m lucky in that some of my relationships have not been strictly monogamous…I’m an unconventional type, I guess!

The Astronomer

The Story

A new post-grad student, Sandra Brennan, is at a new university and working on her thesis. She’s alone, she hasn’t had many boyfriends, but a nice guy from her old university is around and she has a few fantasies. Her main hobby, astronomy, is unavailable to her due to light pollution in the city, but it’s still a good telescope…

As an undergraduate, I would be looking up at the brilliant winter stars from the farmhouse roof, and one evening my gaze wanders to the telescope sitting still in its packing create. It’s a half-hour drive to get far enough away from the city to a good observing spot, but I don’t have a car. Well, maybe it’s possible to see something from my window. I get out the delicate and powerful reflecting telescope out and carefully assemble the tripod mounting and fit the sky-tracking motor. Switching off all the lights I draw back my curtains from the tall window.

Streetlights shimmer in the square, but above it I can see the brighter stars twinkling. It takes a few minutes to calibrate the ‘scope, but the stars flicker terribly in the eyepiece. Rising heat from the buildings most likely, I decide. I can make out Jupiter, but it, too, jumps and wobbles so badly that getting a good picture is out of the question.

With a sigh I stand and lean on the window jam glumly. Maybe I can make friends with somebody interested in astronomy? Bryce is still around, and has a car. We have run into one another from time to time, and I have bumped into the other guys now and then, passing acquaintances – even with Tasha, who genuinely is nice despite my prejudices. They’ve never repeated their invitation, though.

I see the light on of their apartment across the square, and a flicker of movement. I wonder what they are up to tonight? Well I can hardly go and knock on the door and ask, can I? Turning my head I glance at my ‘scope. Well…it would tell me if they are doing something, wouldn’t it? I mean I may see a bored Bryce in the eyepiece, and then I could go and call and…OK, it’s likely to be just two friends, not a date, but it’s company.

Switching off the ‘scope’s motor I swing it manually to get the small finder scope centered on the lit window. It looks like the curtains aren’t drawn, but there are figures on a bed. I blush and stifle a giggle, I seem to be looking at an intimate moment, but it wouldn’t hurt just to peek a little, would it?

I put my eye to the main scope and adjust the focus.

“Holy shit!” I exclaim aloud, pulling my head back to glance at the window through my own eyes, then look through the eyepiece again to try and tell myself that I didn’t see what I thought I saw.

No, I saw it all right, as clear as if I was standing in the room, and it makes the heat rise to my face. I still look, though.

Bryce is lying on the bed, naked, with Miku – who is also naked – sitting astride his hips and riding him with a steady rhythm as he reaches up to caress her breasts. I close my eyes for a moment, imagining that it is me sitting on that dick, feeling it move inside my pussy as I make love to Bryce. Looking again, I see Miku is riding him quite a lot harder than I would have dared.

“Bryce you rat,” I mutter, “what will Malcolm and Charles say?”

At that moment, Charles enters the scene from behind Miku and my heart skips a beat…but he’s also naked, with a huge boner, and Miku glances back at him and smiles as she carries on fucking Bryce. Charles climbs on the bed behind her and she leans back, half-turning toward him to slip an arm around his neck and kiss his mouth as she has sex with his friend. Speechless, I can’t tear my eyes away as he pushes her forward and steers his dick forward as she pushes back. Her expression changes to one of pure lust and fulfillment as he pushes forward and her hips grind back. Then they resume her rhythm, only now she is fucking both guys.

“Miku…you slut!” I whisper, knowing I should feel disgusted but actually feeling admiration for her brazen sexuality. My legs are clamped together and my pussy is hot and damp, while my nipples are so hard they almost hurt. I bite my lip with frustration as I see her clearly loving every moment. From Charles’ position he must be giving her anal sex, and I wonder how that feels. Clearly, Miku is enjoying it as I see her mouth open and shut and her eyes screw shut, body trembling for several long moments. She must be climaxing hard!

Again my imagination races away: what would it feel like to have a cock in my ass, in fact to have one in my ass and pussy at the same time? From Miku’s expression, I would guess it feels great. Oh god wouldn’t that be good, to feel so stuffed full of cock and held in so many strong arms that I was helpless with pleasure

My hand is fumbling with the belt of my jeans and as soon as the undo I slip a grateful hand down the front of my panties and start rubbing my button with a shudder of relief. In the eyepiece a third person appears: Malcolm, also naked.

“My god…they are having an orgy,” I mutter, not quite able to believe it.

Malcolm is every bit as cut as the other two guys as he climbs onto the bed next to the three. Miku reaches out and grabs his stiff dick, and twists her body to one side to guide it straight into her mouth. I can’t look away, the only thing I can move are my fingers in my panties as Miku fucks three guys all at the same time.

What a slut. What a lucky, over-sexed, slut! I can feel myself turning green with jealousy. Why can’t that be me over there, with a boyfriend and two lovers fucking my brains out? I have needs too!

The Astronomer


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Moving From A Vanilla To A D’s Relationship


This is a task that is not really an easy thing to do, but it can be done. In orders to move into a whole new world there are somethings the Dominant has to do.

The first being a huge change of attitude. The Dominant has to demonstrate he is in full control. The attitude has to change a full 360 degrees. This is more true if the two have problems arguing.

A woman will not submit to a Dominant or any male if he cannot control his temper. Second we do not always have to be right. Although I am not wrong that often I do make mistakes. I think things out before acting and when something goes wrong, I am like what the fuck how did that happen, because I have covered all of the choices and of course the consequences.

Being in full control is the key…

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Getting Off to get it On for the Week

Masturbation Statue

It’s Monday, the baleful start of the working week, so to get you going with a smile I have as usual an extra-long excerpt from a story – this one is unpublished, as of yet, but could be out soon if I can convince my publisher to let it go.

Rather than rabbit on about it, I’ll just let you figure out the story…so break out your toys and enjoy!


It’s two days later that I walk up Adam’s driveway again, with a heavier pack. He isn’t home yet, but he will be later – this gives me time to get ready. His first scene is a special one I think we’ve both had as a fantasy for years. As soon as I let myself into the house, I go to the bathroom and open my pack. I quickly peel off my usual clothes, and take a quick shower. Then I get dressed in the extra clothes I brought with me. Fortunately I haven’t grown much since I left school, save in the chest area.

First a crisp, white bra and panties set – nothing overly sexy, just feminine and clean, no logos, labels, transparent panels or such. Normally my underwear is black lace, thongs and plunge bras. Just because I don’t have a boyfriend on the scene doesn’t mean I want to be caught unready, and it’s a statement to myself of my maturity. Not today, though.

I add long black over-the-knee socks, and a short, flared black skirt. A crisp white blouse I don’t bother to tuck into my skirt, and a tie that I tie on loosely under an unfastened top button. Lastly my old school blazer goes over the top, black as well. I put my feet into a pair of flats and admire the result: hellfire and hockey-sticks, I’m trouble on two legs.

Other than the size of my bust, I could still pass as a mature schoolgirl if I really wanted too. Of course, that’s the point of this…playing out a fantasy we both had. It brings back memories of notes passed under the desk and teasing in break-time as the girls vie for who can get the eye of the new teacher, Mr. Jefferson’s. I succeeded more often than not, with my cocky attitude, constantly challenging him to keep me in line.

The plan is that I get changed, and just do my work until he gets home. Problem is I am now just too much in character! Grabbing my notepad I go into the lounge, rather than the study. Flopping on the sofa I put my feet up on his coffee table and find the TV remote before I open my notepad and start working as MTV blares in the background. It’s not as if I’m not working… besides, if I’m going to earn myself a spanking, I plan on earning it in style.

“Just what do you think you are doing, young lady?” Adam’s voice makes me jump; I didn’t even hear him open the front door! He is standing over me, no looming over me, still in his suit from school. For a split second I am fifteen years old again, squeaking with surprise as he catches me out and calls me to task – again.

“Er, just working Sir!” my voice comes out an octave higher than I wanted, and I cough to clear my throat. “No point being cooped up in the study is there?” I add in my more normal tones and bright grin I know won’t fool him.

“You cannot study with your feet on my coffee table,” Adam begins, as he swats my feet off the coffee table. “Or listening to that racket on the television,” he adds, scooping up the remote control and killing the music video. “Up! Into the study! I want to make sure you have actually been working, not just goofing off.” I feel that hot thrill in my bra and panties that always accompanied a ticking off by Adam when I was at school.

He doesn’t even wait for me to get to my feet, he reaches out and grabs me by the ear.

“Ow!” I yelp, as my feet propel me to my feet faster than otherwise. The warmth became a hot rush – Adam had never been physical when I was his pupil. Of course he couldn’t be, strictly against the rules, but oh I wished he had been as he marches me into the study, trailing my notepad in one hand.

“Stand there,” he points at a spot of ground in front of him as he plants himself on a straight-backed chair. Cowed – and horny – I stand where he points, eyes down and lips pouting as he takes my notepad and skims over the essay I was writing. “Hmmm.” His tone is disapproving as he humphs and hmmms his way through the work, as my apprehension mounts.

“You’ve completely missed the point of the relationship between Benedict and Beatrice as a counterpoint to Cloudio and Hero,” he remarks disapprovingly. “Frankly, I think your suggestion that Beatrice and Hero might be engaged in a lesbian affair because they sleep in the same bed is laughable.” I wince, I had included that as something a modern reader might assume in this day and age. “Frankly, you just betray that you have a dirty mind.”

“Sorry Sir,” I mumble, contrite.

“I should think so. Now what should we do about your appalling behavior while I was out?”

“Um, buy me an ice-cream and tell me not to do it again?” I suggest brightly. “Or how about put a TV in here so I’m not tempted to work in the lounge?” Yes, this is the kind of attitude I had in school, too, only probably a lot worse.

Adam grabs me by the scruff off the neck and I give a startled shout as he hauls me across his lap, face down with my butt in the air. My face burns red as he flips my skirt up. That’s nothing to the warm rush that permeates me completely: this is my fantasy, from the day I first met Mr. Jefferson, and it’s coming true.

“Oh so you are wearing panties,” he exclaims in mock surprise. “The way you tease the boys I’d not be surprised if you never bothered.”

“Of course I do sir,” I reply, indignant in spite of my undignified position. “I’m not some skank!” I squirm, wiggling my bum for him – I have a nice ass, I may as well flaunt it.

“Oh, you have some standards then,” he says. His lap is warm, and I am sure I can feel a bulge in it which quickens my excitement. His large hand rests on my rump, and I can feel the heat of it through the thin material. “Now this rear is the wrong color for a girl who misbehaves as you do, isn’t it? Let’s get a proper look.”

A thrill runs up my spine and tingles in my pussy as I feel his fingers slip inside the waistband of my panties and ease them slowly down to expose my bare cheeks and the intimate secrets between them. He tugs them right down to my knees, then strokes his hand over my smooth skin.

“Oh very nice,” he purrs, as my sex tingles warmer and I can feel myself getting wet in anticipation. “But very white,” he adds in a disapproving tone. “It should be red.”

Without warning his hand slaps my bare ass. The slap reaches my ears at the same time as the sting reaches my nerves, and I give a startled cry of pain and surprise. It wasn’t a love pat, it was a proper spank, and my skin burns where he spanked me. The sensation in my pussy is what I was unprepared for, though: instead of killing my desire, the pain seems to transmute to a heat that seeps through my skin, into my sex and lodge there. I squeeze my thighs together tight.

“Stop that!” Adam orders me, and two more stinging spanks land on my ass. “Keep those thighs open, I want to be sure you aren’t enjoying this!”

Stung and surprised I open my thighs a little, knowing this will let him see the pink lips of my gash peeking between my cheeks.

“Oh-ho, what’s this?” Adam exclaims, and his finger tip touches the base of my slit, and slides slickly down it lightly and very slowly. A shudder runs through me, and a soft little moan comes from my throat as he tickles my pussy. “I think somebody is enjoying themselves, aren’t they?” His finger doesn’t touch my clit, but runs back up my groove to the moist spot where my hole is leaking and hovers there.

“Ah! N-no, Sir,” I manage to gasp out. Please just put it in me!

“Really?” his finger traces little circles around my entrance. Then without warning he withdraws it and spanks me three more times. I squeal and yelp with pain and surprise. My ass burns, and the heat seeps into my pussy, and I find myself squirming against that hand resting on my throbbing butt after he pauses.

“Oh yes,” he chuckles, “somebody is having fun, aren’t they?”

I can’t honestly say no. While my butt stings and burns, my pussy tingles hot and moist. I am really turned on by the “strict teacher” act. What I want right now is to be taken good and hard over the desk.

Adam’s hand moves and I feel him pulling my panties all the way off. Then he pulls one of my hands behind my back and something loops around my wrist. The other hand is pulled after it and my hands are now bound behind my back. My pulse races, and I am breathing rapid, shallow breaths.

“I’m going to teach you another little lesson now, my little school slut,” Adam rumbles, his wicked grin making my knees weak even as he easily lifts me up to my feet. He doesn’t stop at my feet and plants my throbbing butt on the desk, and I gasp at the hard, cold wood under my bare, burning cheeks. “It’s called ‘edging’,” he continues with a malicious smirk.

What the hell is that? I wonder as I sit on the middle of one side of the desk.

“Yes sir,” I say meekly.

“Don’t you meekly ‘yes sir’ me, young lady!” he admonishes as he grabs one of my ankles. Slipping a short length of cord from one pocked he expertly ties my ankle to the top of one leg of the desk. I wriggle as the position threatens to raise my short skirt high enough to flash my naked pussy at him. He repeats the same with my other ankle, binding it to the other leg, so I have to spread my legs wide apart. Firmly Adam pushes me so that I have to lean back on my elbows.

My hips are raised at his waist level, only my short skirt covers my sex. I’m leaning back, bound, as if presenting myself to be taken as Adam reaches out and lifts my skirt up to my waist.

Oh boy, here it comes, and am I ready for it!

“Hmm. Quite a cute little pussy,” he drawls.

“Yes sir,” I pant, biting my lip. He has a big bulge in his pants, as his fingertips trail down both sides of my pouting pussy-lips. Go on, free that big boy. Fuck me hard!

He sinks to his knees right in front of me, and so close I can feel his breath stirring my snatch of curls. His finger rubs slowly up and down my wet slot, and I shiver with anticipation. Warm tingles flow through my sex and up my spine as his finger slowly circles my button, teasing it. Then one questing finger slips slowly between my labia and inside me and I can’t restrain a long, low moan. My pelvic floor muscle tightens of its own accord, squeezing his finger delightfully inside me.

“Oh, someone’s nice and tight,” Adam chuckles, sliding his finger slowly in and out of my very wet cunt. “Tight and wet, just the way I like it. That’s your temptation, isn’t it, girl? That’s how you get what you want, offering this nice, sexy, delicious little pussy.”

I can’t answer, except in squeaks and moans. His other hand is playing with the top of my gash, one finger lightly tickling and stroking my throbbing clit. My nipples tingle and tighten in response, visible through bra and blouse. My sex quivers, I can feel my pulse burning down there, as my back arches, my breathing loud.

“Ah yes…wanton and uncontrolled. We have such a lot to teach you about how to harness the power in this,” Adam murmurs, and his fingers run through my pubes slowly.

For the rest of my many tales, check me out on all the usual outlets!


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In the Aftermath…

I’ve always said that there is more to BDSM than just sex and spanking (or spanking and sex, as the usual order). It’s about trust, intimacy, and communication more than anything else, and where this usually comes in is in the part that most stories tends to blur over, the bit that comes after the spanking, and after the sex. One writer I know called it “aftercare” which is a good description, but it’s not always care as such. What is going on afterwards is just as important as what goes on before…

Romance (really!)

The Tender Side

After the hardcore action, the aftercare is the tender side of BDSM. It doesn’t change the roles of Top and Bottom at all, they are still present, but the Top can show his softer side to a contrite Bottom, showing that he or she cares deeply for their submissive. In this time the Top can give the Bottom what they need, be it rest, cuddles, treatment, or even more discipline. There are as many different approaches to this as there are people practising BDSM, everyone does things their own way and whatever way you want is yours to choose.

First Aid

If you have just had a major session on a slave’s ass, what may be called for immediately afterwards is first aid: soothing antiseptic cream is always a good idea to apply to any spanked area, even if the skin hasn’t been broken. Applying it is a caring act of intimacy, and can be a sensual one as well. A lot of couples will use this stage of post-punishment to lead into the sexual side of things, rather than post-sexually, as it can lead very naturally into love-making. Others use it as a prelude to a gentler second round, and others after all the action as part of the cool-down.

If you need more than just cream, you should have full first-aid kit always ready. Myself, I don’t go into a level of punishment that ends up requiring dressings, but there are some out there that do. If so it is important to do that treatment as soon as the punishment is over, and not to skimp on it.

Cuddles & Petting

If you are into pet-play, or parent/child role-play, a punishment can often be terminated with affection: cuddles, kissing, and petting are there to reassure the Bottom that they are loved and appreciated and treasured for who and what they are. It’s part of the reward phase for them taking the submissive role in the relationship. For many into this aspect of the scene, this phase can be the entire point of the play: You’ve been bad, you’ve been punished, and now you are loved. Whether you are giving your pony a good rub down, or cuddling and nursing your sissy, or holding your slave close and telling them how much you love them, this is where you lay on all the reassurance and praise that can be the make-up for the previous humiliation and pain.

Left Hanging

For some, the aftermath is not so much aftercare as after-punishment. The slave has been punished, restrained, and used, and now gets an extended period in bondage while the owner rests. Such bondage is usually not painful, but can be comfortable or uncomfortable, depending on the Top and Bottom. Care should always be taken to ensure there is no danger to the submissive – leaving someone crucified or hanging upside-down has inherent dangers, and can lead to serious injury or even death, so use this option carefully.

Options that are safer might be putting your slave to bed in a vacuum bed to sleep, or leaving them suspended in rope-bondage (ensure no ropes are cutting off circulation, though). Leaving the sub in a stress position can be done, but ensure that they can’t slip and injure themselves. However you do it, ensure that the sub has some means of signalling if they are in distress.

Again, for some this is the whole point, either giving the Top their Bottom as a display piece, or the Bottom enjoying an extended period of restraint they can feel suitably helpless in.

Cast Aside

In some cases, degradation is what the submissive desires, and in this case there is no “aftercare” – they are instead sent packing, or discarded, or told to clean up and fix diner. It’s not my thing, but to be treated as worthless is what some submissives absolutely love. However, from those I have talked to and experienced, this is actually quite rare. Far more common are wannabe dominants who think that treating people like dirt is what it’s all about…so be warned: always discuss aftercare along with every other aspect of your relationship beforehand. Discovering that your partner just wants to punish and use you when what you were looking forward to was a cuddle with your bum gently glowing can hurt.


I’ve mentioned before how the BDSM relationship is dominated by the needs of the submissive as much of not more than the needs of the dominant, and in the aftercare this is often where their emotional needs are brought to completion. It’s as important as the rest of the scene you indulge, and it’s often where the submissive, or Bottom, is shown the appreciation they deserve. It can be really important, so never miss out on it…

A Teaser!

Of course this is one of my posts, and that wouldn’t be complete without a teaser from one of my stories. Here’s one from Lydia’s Path #10: Hostess…just because, really 😛

Slave Girl #10

“Lydia, we are expecting Master Daimon as our guest this afternoon, and I am assigning you to be his hostess,” Mistress instructs me, with a smirk that says she knows full well how I feel about Master Daimon. “I shall leave it to your initiative how to dress, our maid services will be dealt with by Danielle this evening. You have an hour to prepare before he arrives.”

“Yes Mistress,” I say, and kneeling I kiss her feet before rising again and scampering upstairs, already excited.

In the bathroom I share with Amanda I ease out my tail and take a second quick shower – this time with hot water – before returning to our room and opening my wardrobe. I look at the selection of clothes there. Very little of it is what I would call “street wear” and in any event that’s certainly not going to be the dress code for tonight. Most of my wardrobe are fetish outfits and costumes, and I work through them. The maid uniform I normally wear is out, I am not to be a maid for tonight. I pause at my pink latex catsuit, but decide against it. I know Daimon and what he likes, and that makes the choice easy for me to please him.

Humming cheerfully I select my lingerie: a white, frilly, but fairly scanty bra, panties, and suspender belt and slip them on. Next I roll a pair of black, seamed fishnet stockings up my legs and secure them. A short-sleeved crisp white blouse follows, with an utterly revolting school tie. Lastly I slip on a grey pinafore that wouldn’t look out of place on a schoolgirl, save that no school would even consider allowing a student to wear a skirt this short. Pulling my hair out of the ponytail I often wear I rearrange it in two bunches, and tie it with ribbons in exaggerated bows.

Last and not least I slide my feet into a pair of high-heeled Mary-Jane shoes and strike a pose in the mirror. A hot and very naughty St Trinians schoolgirl looks back at me. Master Daimon has a thing for school uniforms, I know. To complete my look I sit at my dresser and apply a heavy layer of fairly slutty make-up to complete the picture of a deliberately naughty girl. I have no doubt he’ll take the opportunity to spank me, frequently.

I’m rather looking forward to it…

When I return downstairs Danielle is already back in her maid uniform and working in the kitchen. She has that slightly flustered look on her face that tells me that her chastity device is back on, and she didn’t get any relief. She looks up from cleaning the work-surface as I enter and her jaw nearly drops.

“Wow, you’re certainly dressing to please Master Daimon,” she compliments me.

“That’s the plan,” I say, with a smile. “Is Mistress in her study?”

“Of course,” Danielle affirms.

“Thank you sweety,” I say, and kiss her cheek before strutting off to find Mistress Trudy. She is still in her catsuit, sat at her desk with those awesome legs crossed under the desk – a place I know well, for obvious reasons. She glanced up as I entered the room, her thick, glossy red hair tumbling past one shoulder.

“Someone’s been paying attention,” she chuckled as she took in my costume.

“Thank you Mistress,” I say with a polite little curtsey.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Lydia, are you wearing knickers[1]?” she demanded ominously, turning her swivel chair to face me away from her desk.

I swallowed hard. It’s a standing rule that under normal circumstances I don’t wear panties at all, that way my sex is always available with a minimum of effort (given how short my skirts often are) to my Mistress and Master.

Nervously I approach Mistress Trudy, already feeling like naughty schoolgirl.

“But Master Daimon likes his schoolgirls to be wearing pretty panties he can pull down when he spanks them, Mistress,” I say very meekly. “I am very sorry for being so disobedient, Mistress, I should have acquired permission before doing so,” I add contritely.

Mistress merely uncrossed her legs and pointed sternly at her lap, the simple command that I was about to get an over-the-knee spanking. With a sigh and no sign of protest I duly draped myself over her lap, facing down with my butt in the air, revealing the lace-ruffled knickers in all their glory. I can feel my pussy tingling and my nipples going hard: this ritualized, deliberate form of punishment is what pushes all my buttons.

“He likes to pull them down, does he?” Mistress says, as she tugs my panties down off my derrière. I have a nice bum, if I say so myself, something Mistress enjoys tormenting every chance she gets. I still have red welts on it from this morning’s pony-session, and now it seems I am to get more.

“Yes Mistress,” I confirm, squirming my bare ass in a way I hope is inviting. Her hand strokes my rump slowly and lightly.

“And spanks you?”

“Yes Mistress, he likes that very much and I –” my words are interrupted by a sudden stinging blow to my bare cheek. Then a second on the other cheek, and another, as Mistress Trudy delivers a flurry of spanks, randomly alternating which cheek of my ass receives them. I squeak and wriggle as the sting and the burn sinks into my ass, and presses buttons deep inside me. My pussy is wet, and I am hungry to feel a touch on my slick lips, or a caress on my tingling button.

[1] Panties, if you are American, usually referring to more old-fashioned styles of underwear.


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Wet Wednesday

After Masturbation Monday, one group I know do a “Wet Wednesday” feature, so let’s talk about water.



Water is first and foremost, a very sensual element. Perhaps it might be so simple as we have to take our clothes off to swim or bathe, but I think it’s deeper than that. Water flows, it has a touch that is strong but can also be gentle. It provides a radical temperature differential, be it warm or cold. We spend our first nine months surrounded and immersed in it, and in birth we leave not just our mother’s womb but the womb of the primordial ocean from which life originally came. Water appeals on a level that is primordial to us.

So it is no surprise really, that water appeals sexually to many of us, if not all. Has anyone reading this blog not gone skinnydipping at some point in their lives? I do whenever I get the chance, rain or shine, swimming pool, sea, stream, or lake. As I live in the UK this usually means the water is cold, but that’s OK because when your blood is up it just adds to the spice – your partner will be warm, regardless! When you are naked in water it surrounds and caresses you everywhere, giving you a sensuality and intimacy you cannot achieve any other way.

You don’t just have to be immersed in water, after all I am betting a lot of you readers have tried sex under the shower too. Again, you have the water streaming over you, exciting the sense of touch along with the wet skin of your lover. Not for nothing do many people masturbate under the shower – in the case of a lot of girls, that moveable shower-head is as popular as their favourite vibrator. A waterfall is a wonderful natural shower, with the added bonus of being close to nature (see my entry on Al Fresco sex). If you aren’t even going that far, wet clothing clings and becomes more transparent, wet skin is slippery and more sensual…you get the picture: Wet is sexy!

Water Bondage

Naturally, water is a tool that can be used in BDSM as well. Obviously you can’t restrain someone with water, but you can use water on someone restrained.


Immersion can be used to emphasise a bound submissive’s helplessness, as they are then dependent on the dominant allowing them to breath – something that is very dangerous, but that some find very exciting. Or the submissive could be immersed or floated able to breath but unable to otherwise control their motion. Water can be used as part of sensory deprivation, if it is lukewarm to remove any sense of temperature. Placing the submissive in cold water can be used as a punishment as well, although care needs to be taken to avoid hypothermia.

Similarly, just getting a submissive wet can chill them, while a stream of water can stimulate the senses. If you are into pet-play, hosing down your pet in the garden is one way to get them clean if they are dirty (or you just feel like it).

One means of employing water is to use streams of it directed at a bound slave’s anatomy. This can be very stimulating and frustrating both, depending on the water force and temperature. There are whole web-sites devoted to water-bondage, just google it!

Slave Girl #7

An Excerpt

Once again, here’s a short excerpt from one of my stories. Yes, I did write a “water bondage” scene, and here it is from Lydia’s Path #7: Time Off.

“Master Nicolas, you’re lacking a sub to play with,” she says, handing my chain to a tall, swarthy man with very black hair. “This is Lydia, please enjoy her.” He has a lean body and is wearing leather chaps and briefs that buckle onto them. My stomach gets butterflies again, and if my sex wasn’t already wet, it would start to drip at the size of the bulge in those briefs. A hard man is good to find, after all.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice is deep and relaxed and directed to Mistress Trudy, not me. He tugs my chain and I start to follow him dutifully. “No,” he says to me for the first time. “Crawl.” Trained to obedience I fall to my hands and knees at once and crawl after him. He heads not for the house’s well-equipped dungeon-basement, or a bedroom, but for the pool room. Master and Mistress have a small indoor swimming pool, and it is part of the fitness regimen we all use. However, it has yet to be used in any of our other fun and games, and now I am not just apprehensive but also quite curious.

I’m not the only one; several guests and their subs follow us to watch the proceedings.

We enter the room and I see that set up on the side of the pool is an electric pump, with several variable-position hoses and nozzles. Like many walls in the Weston household, all the ones in the pool room – and the floor too – have discrete anchor points for restraining us subs whenever desired.

“Put these on.” Master Nicolas tosses me a set of wrist- and ankle-cuffs which were nearby, which I quickly buckle on as he finds chains and clips nearby. My heart is racing, I am not sure what I am anticipating, but it’s likely to drive me nuts.

“Sit here,” he commands, pointing at the nearby wall between two low anchor points and one high one.

“Yes Master Nicolas,” I reply, as I sit with my bum on the floor, back to the wall.

“Arms up.”

I raise my arms, and he clips the cuffs together at the end of a chain he then draws through the high anchor point and pulls until I am stretched taught without my ass quite leaving the ground. Then he locks the chain in place with a click that sounds very firm and final; there is strain on my arms, not quite enough to be painful but nowhere near comfortable.

“Knees right up,” he tells me. I raise my knees to my chest, and he pulls one ankle wide to affix it to an anchor point, then the other ankle to a point on the other side, spreading me out so that my pussy is facing the water-pump. I swallow hard; this is not something that has been done to me before, as he takes the opportunity to casually rub my slick pussy-lips and spreads my pink labia lewdly open.

My pulse picks up at this casual sexual use, as I bite my lip and shiver with the thrills tingling out from my clit. After six months of being restrained and used I am still as turned on by it now as I was when I started as Mistress Trudy’s novice. There always seems to be another kink, another twist, an added spice that takes me a little further into what amounts to sexual depravity. Who cares, I’m having the time of my life!

Master Nicolas steps back and admires the effect for a moment, then walks over to the pump and switches it on. Several jets of water arc over the pool from the fixed jets. He swivels one around toward me, and the spray splashes me as he narrows the jet and directs it over me. It is quite forceful, again not quite enough so to be painful, but the point of impact as it moves over my skin is like a drumming, pressing finger. Water flows over my naked body as several guests follow us into the room to get a better view. I shiver as the jet plays over me, and Master Nicolas moves the point of impact of one to my left nipple.

The water isn’t cold, but it is far from warm either, and it hits like a stream of beads, lightly pummeling my tit not quite hard enough to be painful. He moves a second jet, and zeroes it in on my right tit, and now I gasp as I feel my nipples harden up under the assault, almost painfully hard. He grins as he lines up a third jet, first spraying me in the face, then drawing it down my body to aim it at my exposed gash, making me gasp and cry out as the water droplets pummel my sex, then squeal as he puts the jet directly onto my clit. Hot shivers run through my pelvis and up my spine as my eyes water – not that anyone will notice, given how wet I now am – this is heaven!

“Is that good, slut?” he asks me, grinning.

“Yes Master – Nicolas it – hurts good!” I squeak out between pants. My pussy tightens, my immobilized body trembles. The constant strain starts to hurt just a little, adding to my torment, but I can feel my clit tingling hot. He starts to play, pointing other jets at my inner thighs, my face, varying them over me, making me squirm and moan at this merciless teasing.

“Is this making you hot, slut?” he demands of me.

“Yes Master Nicolas,” I stammer back, trying to speak – and breathe – through a stream of water.

“Think you’ll cum like this, you dirty little bitch?”

“I d-don’t know Master Nicolas,” I squeak back as he moves the jet pummeling my clit away and back. Knowing my luck, it’s probably not quite enough to make me cum, but more than enough to make me helpless with the need to.

“Would you like a good fucking?” he teases.

“Always, Master Nicolas!” Oh god do I want a good fucking!

“Too bad, you’ll have to wait.”


Barnes & Noble:


Masturbation Monday – A Teaser

Let’s not muck about, it’s Masturbation Monday and time to get a little warm under the collar. To celebrate the start of another week (or to take your mind off the fact that it is the start of another week) here’s an extra-long teaser this week. This is taken from Lydia’s Path #8: Benefits. Lydia is about the only member of the household not down with flu, and is looking after her fellow slaves and her Mistress. Her Master doesn’t have it, so she is having to single handedly keep him happy. Then he brings a friend home…

 Slave Girl #8

The rattle of a key in the outside door shakes me from my lethargy. It’s late, and I quickly slip my feet back into my shoes and shake out my skirts as I click and jingle down the passageway as the vestibule door opens and Master Philip steps through – followed a moment later by Daimon Smyth, one of the Weston’s close friends, a swinger and a Dom like them, and Master Daimon to me.

I brighten up instantly, Master Daimon is very buff, and hasn’t failed to play with me whenever I have met him in the past. Two sets of male eyes fix on me, as I approach, taking in my sexualized little costume.

They’re both going to fuck me tonight, I think, and with the revelation a hot thrill runs through me, making my nipples tingle and my clit thrum with anticipation.

“Master Philip,” I greet him, with a smile and a curtsey, “Master Daimon.” I perform another bob to his friend. “How may I be of service?” I offer, my fingertips brushing the hem of my dress absently. It’s short, after all, and it wouldn’t take much to flip it up and expose myself.

Right now I am very conscious that I am not wearing panties of any sort, it’s a standing order from my Mistress and Master. The tinkling sound that follows me everywhere is testimony to it, as it comes from a little bell that is attached to a clitoral piercing Mistress Trudy had done when I first signed my slave contract. Sometimes I don’t notice it, and sometimes – like now – it sounds very loud to me.

“Lydia, don’t you play the innocent for Master Daimon, you little slut!” Master Philip growls. “On your knees, mouth open, now!”

Yes, he’s horny all right!

My breath catches in my throat, butterflies flutter in my stomach, and my head feels light. A hot tingle flushes over my entire skin, hardening my nipples, heating my pussy until I can feel my own wetness. I sink to my knees, feeling my heart pound. I have a rush of excitement at the prospect of pleasuring him, of hearing his praise when I am done as I lick my lips and open it in anticipation as Master Philip advances, unzipping his fly so that his big, hard, cock flips into view. As soon as I see it I inhale deeply, his musk and cologne sending a second shiver through me as I close my eyes, hands clasped behind my back, just as Master Philip likes it.

Master’s strong hand strokes my cheek, brushing back an errant lock of hair, and a tremendous sense of euphoria swims over me as my Master guides his erect cock between my lips. I close them around the thick, fat head and suck as he pushes, welcoming him to my warm mouth, moving my tongue around that shaft. He fills my world, controls my every action, even my desires. With him in charge, I can do anything and feel no shame, because he is right: I am a slut, a highly sexual creature who lives for sensual pleasure, adoring giving it and a slave to my own.

His hand grips my ponytail to control my head, and he starts to fuck my mouth while I exalt in my ability to please him as he praises me:

“Oh yes…you do that so well…take it deeper…good girl…you really love this don’t you?”

“Mmmmmm,” is all I can reply with my mouth full of cock, a low moan of pleasure at his words. I so love being enjoyed!

He fucks my face, slow, then fast, then slow. I wonder what Master Daimon is doing, I want to please him too, but like a good slave I keep my attention on my Master’s needs. I breath deeper and faster as I suck and lap eagerly, taking active part in the process of pleasing him even as he controls my head.

“Enough,” Master declares, pulling back suddenly. I wait for a long moment, my mouth open and eyes closed, wishing for his dick to return to me. Did I displease him? “Daimon, please feel free to use her while I finish off that thing,” Master continues.

What thing? I wonder. Master never jerks off, not in all the time I have known him.

Before I can open my eyes and look, a whiff of a different musk and the warmth of soft, naked skin brushing my cheek heralds Master Daimon. I love that musk, it melts me inside, and I feel a new kind of thrill as I turn my head slightly and feel a new hand grip my hair and guide my mouth onto a second cock. One again I am sucking on a man, but this time I am listening too and I can hear metal rattle, and it sounds like something heavy is being moved around.

“Ah Lydia, I’ve missed your mouth,” Master Daimon sighs as I start sucking. “I’ve never known a slave give it up so willingly, and still have her own style.” My heart flutters and skips a beat at his words. I am a good girl (in one respect), loyal to my Master and Mistress, but I will be the first to admit I have a tremendous crush on Master Daimon.

For several minutes I service him orally, very happy to do so, with my place being firmly on my knees. I know by his quickening breath he is close to cumming before he pulls my head back, taking his dick out of my mouth.

I nearly mewl with disappointment before his hand still on my hair tugs hard and I am compelled to open my eyes and stand, with him still holding me by my ponytail.

“Strip,” Master Philip orders brusquely. He is standing next to an odd restraining device he must have assembled while I served Master Daimon: a flat padded base from which a steel pole rises maybe eighteen inches. It’s topped with a second short bar, curved over with a set of manacles at each end. If somebody were laid face-down with the bar between their legs then their wrists and ankles could be fastened into the manacles in a hog-tie posture. You can tell the bar goes between a girl’s legs, because there’s a large dildo, already glistening with lube, fixed horizontally to the bar a few inches off the ground.

My pussy pulses hotly, it – and I – know just where that dildo is going.

Even as I think, my hands are moving automatically to my Master’s command: a quick tug and my apron is undone and dropped to the ground, and my black satin dress and white fluffy petticoats are sliding down my stockinged legs. Last of all I unfasten my bra and discard it, leaving me in just a tight waist-cinching under-bust corset, stockings, and my heels.

“Lie here,” Master says with a wicked grin, pointing at the ground in front of the device.

“Yes Master,” I say, my voice comes out as a whisper. I feel a hot and cold flush pulse through my skin as I kneel in front of the device, extending my legs either side of the central bar. I lower myself to the ground, the cool floor sending goose-bumps through my flesh. Master Philip grasps my wrists and pulls them back, forcing my back to bend and lifting my breasts off the cold floor until he can lock both of my wrists into the device. Now it’s just my hips resting on the padded base just in front of that dildo.

A sudden, sharp slap on my ass stings hard enough that I give a startled squeak. Master Philip has sunk down beside me, and he strokes the curve of my ass. A second spank on the other cheek from my master makes me squirm and gasp.

“Don’t start so, Lydia, you know you like being spanked,” Master Philip chuckles, pushing his hand down between my legs and stroking my naked pussy, his fingers slipping easily through my moist gash. The sting in my cheeks is a warm contrast to the cold of the pad, and my tingling skin seems to spread that heat into my sex. Fingers stroke me very intimately, probing at my opening, and I bite my lip as they invade me. He slides them slowly inside my pussy and little fluttering thrills ripple through my sex as he plays around. I moan softly as his thumb locates and strokes my clit in sync with his fingers slowly masturbating me.

“Shall I take her feet?” Master Daimon asks my Master, his voice deep and wicked.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Master Philip replies, easing his fingers out and spreading me open. Master Daimon grips one of my ankles in each hand and holds them wide apart, then pulls them firmly so my hips slide back along the pad…

“Oh!” I gasp as the head of the dildo presses precisely against my slick entrance. A slight tug and my pussy yields to the dildo, and it stretches my hole wide as it slowly fills me inch by inch. Master Philip has removed his hand, and he just watches with a grin as I am slowly impaled. My distended lips press against cool metal, I am very full, almost uncomfortably so. My pussy twitches and I feel it give little fluttering squeezes almost out of my control.

My knees bend and my ankles are locked in place in the device, my feet inches from my hands, and my spine curled back. My head is raised up, but the strain isn’t too bad on my arms. I’ve been hog-tied before and it’s not that uncomfortable – at least at first.

“How does that feel, Lydia?” Master Daimon asks me, quite cheerful and nonchalant as if he was asking about the weather.

“Very full, Master Daimon,” I reply honestly, trying not to breathe hard. I’m getting little rushes of hot and cold as I often do when restrained.

Master Philip is feeling around the base of the dildo, his touch brushing my labia, and there is a click. Immediately the dildo starts to vibrate, the throbbing pulsations filling my pussy and spreading like a slow, warm wave through my body. I can’t restrain it, I moan aloud and my eyes close as I shiver with delight and frustration: the vibrations alone are very nice, as is the dildo in me, but it isn’t moving in and out, and my poor clitty is feeling very left out.

Master Philip pushes something into my mouth, a cold metal ring, and straps are pulled around my head – a ring gag, I’ve worn them many times before. With my mouth held open I can’t speak, and I know I will be used orally again. I take a deep breath and let it go, feeling myself relax. Master Daimon is pulling on my long ponytail, probably securing it by rope to the bar so that my head is now held up. Now I’m fully immobile and totally helpless on the hallway floor.

“Drink?” Master Philip asks Master Daimon.

“Don’t mind if I do, thanks,” Master Daimon replies, and like that both men leave me there.

The feeling that fills me isn’t fear, its contentment. I have no choices, no options, no decisions, and I am pleasing two men I care about by just being here, hogtied and impaled on a vibrating dildo. It’s not comfortable, but it feels so good…

So I wait, listening to the two men chatting and sharing a drink. I’d really expected to get pounded hard by now…so they are saving it up…and that means I will go through my paces later. Oh this dildo feels so nice inside meI wonder what they will do later…my arms ache

Time drags, and I have several hot and cold flushes as I wait. Pain burns in my shoulder joints and my back – not excruciating, but a slow, smoldering ache. My pussy burns hot and cold too, squeezing the dildo involuntarily now and then.

Oh god I want to cum…the thought creeps around my mind, and I groan softly in frustration. I can’t cum unless I am told to…it’s one of the cardinal commands of my Master and Mistress. Indeed, Mistress has trained me to cum when ordered to, and that’s a lot harder. Now I have to tense myself and…

Master Philip suddenly appears, naked and with a hard-on, kneeling in front of me. How long has he been observing me as I squirm and gasp in the restraints, enjoying my frustration and my struggles? It doesn’t matter, as he guides his dick through the ring-gag and into my mouth once again.

I tremble with relief as I suck on him: I have his attention, I am desired, I am rewarded. Even as he starts fucking my mouth fingertips flutter around my ass and the throbbing of the dildo increases, then decreases, varying at random as Master Daimon must be playing with the controls.

My pussy twitches and my body shivers helpless as pleasure ebbs and flows through my helpless sex, growing and then receding, taking me close to cumming and then retreating. I’m being teased and edged mercilessly as my throat makes involuntary moans and whimpers as I grow more lightheaded and my thoughts break up and fragment from the ringing in my ears of that vibrator and my own pulse. I can feel the air cool on my skin, nearly feverish with frustration and delirious with desire as I strive to suck hard and deliver pleasure even as I receive it.

“…eager slut…”

“…loving this…”

“…suck it up…”

“…take it all the way…”

“…dirty girl…”

“…needs more spanking…”

Words are being spoken, but I can’t make them out through my fragmented thoughts. Both Masters swap places, not once but several times. It’s not just me they are denying climax too, neither of them have cum and both are constantly hard as rock as they use me.

Then suddenly, they stop and the vibrator clicks off. It takes several moments for my addled brains too register this change, and by then I can feel my hair being released, then my ankles, and lastly my wrists. Master Philip grips my arms as the restraints on them are unfastened, and lowers my body down to the cool floor and lets me rest a moment.

“Give me your hands, Lydia,” Master Philip orders, he is in front of me now. Raising my hands to his, he pulls firmly, sliding my body over the smooth tiles and pulling off the dildo in one smooth motion. I moan with regret, but he isn’t done. “Up, onto your hands and knees, slut!” he demands, letting go of my hands. Master Daimon is kneeling behind me, and I realize their intention.

No rest for the very wicked, I think as I pull myself up to my hands and knees, raising my head proudly and thrusting out my ass.

“Eager tart!” Master Daimon laughs at my burst of energy, and spanks my butt before grasping my hips and with one long thrust drives his thick, warm, hard cock right where the dildo had been a moment before. A hot rush flows like lava out of my pussy as it contracts to squeeze him, and I moan as I have to really resist the desire to cum.

It feels so good, I want him to like it – me – so much…

Master Philip is kneeling in front of me again and my ring-gag is no impediment as he slides his cock into my mouth. I may not be totally helpless, but I am also far from unwilling as both Doms spit-roast me.


Barnes & Noble:


Who’s on Top?

Thankfully Friday has come around again, and I’m chilling after a fairly frantic week of just about everything happening except me sitting down and writing, the one thing I want to be doing. Meh, it happens, and I’m grateful to my BF for all his support this week, he’s awesome! That said, it made me stop and think about something fairly intimate to the whole BDSM scene…

Exactly who, at the end of the day, is on top in the relationship?

Love Is

Now if you aren’t very acquainted with the whole bondage, domination, submission, and masochism scene, it may seem like a very silly question. After all, what’s the point of having a dominant member of the relationship and a submissive member if the dominant isn’t going to dominate and the submissive submit, right?

Actually it really is a lot more complicated than that, in most cases.

Tops and Bottoms

The whole BDSM scene is based on trust. No trust, no scene. The submissive has to trust the dominant implicitly in most cases. They have to trust that they have no nefarious purpose, that they will not take advantage of the submissive beyond the restraints of the relationship, that they will respect the safe-words and signals agreed between the two. In that regard, it is the submissive (the “bottom”) and not the dominant (or “top”) who sets the boundaries. Often in a BDSM scene there are quite strict limits. Both top and bottom have aspects and ideas that they want to explore, and they work together to employ these in the scene they want to play out together. This means that prior to the whole thing starting, there is a lot of give and take.

Let me give you an example:

My BF and I are in a BDSM relationship, he’s the top and I am the bottom. He likes to be in charge, especially in the bedroom, but that doesn’t mean I am his doormat, or that I do all the work around the house and wait on him hand and foot. In many ways we are a very normal couple in how we split the burdens in our lives, and we each have our own separate circles of friends as well as those that overlap. There are ways in which our kink plays into our lives, though: there are ‘play rules’ that we have that I will break if I want him to ‘put me in my place’ while there are other disagreements we have which simply do not get a mention when it’s discipline time. In short, I am allowed to disagree with my Master in areas which are not part of our BDSM life. This isn’t just permitted, I think it’s necessary.

There are other parts of our life together where I am happy to give my love full and absolute control, because I trust him. When he spanks me, ties me up, or otherwise plays with me he can pretty much set things up as he likes – he knows that me not knowing what he has planned is all part of the excitement for me. In related areas he makes rules that he knows I will enjoy keeping to. For example, he doesn’t choose what I wear but he does sometimes make stipulations that influence it – like telling me he wants me to wear certain underwear, or adopt a certain look. When at home he might want me in a certain costume to play, and I’ll always obey.

Wearing a costume puts you in a certain frame of mind, and it’s a great clue to me as to how he wants me to act: if he wants me as a maid, he wants service; if he wants a schoolgirl, he wants me to misbehave and be cheeky; if he wants me as a hooker, I know I’m to act really, really slutty, and so on. But I digress…

What I am trying to explain here is that we have agreed rules and agreed extents of control, and in these I have as much say as he does. In some cases, a bottom only wants a top in certain circumstances to fulfil a certain fantasy. One couple I know is perfectly normal in outward appearances, and their BDSM kink doesn’t play any part in their everyday life. However, he is a transvestite, and when he dresses he loves to be dominated. His wife gets to choose when and how he dresses, and then she is absolutely and completely in charge as long as it stays in the house.

It’s important to remember that both people involved are either fulfilling a need, or helping their partner fulfil a need. Some submissives are extremely demanding in their requirements; like the case above, where the man only likes being dominated when dressed, and it doesn’t happen the rest of the time. Some are so demanding that the term “topping from the bottom” is used; where it is really the submissive who is running the whole show.

Roles and Plays

All that said, there are some couples I know where the question of who is the top and who the bottom depends – they “switch” roles on one another. Indeed, I would say to anyone getting into the scene that they should, at least once, try being the opposite of what they feel to be their nature. It’s an invaluable learning experience, even if you decide that it’s not for you! I also recommend stepping out of your comfort zone for scenes now and again…you may discover more things you like. Or not. But you will never know if you do not try it.


Here’s a teaser from a story of topping and bottoming in many ways. It’s in the Lydia series, where I explore a lot of ideas – and it largely explains itself.

Slave Girl #6

Excerpt from Lydia’s Path #6: Tested:

With a hiss and a crack the whip lays a weal of fire on my vulnerable naked ass-cheeks. I tremble and gasp with the pain and the hot tingle in my pussy. My slim body is bound on my back on a padded bench, my arms chained to the legs of it while my legs are hoisted straight up in the air by a spreader-bar to make them a nice V that exposes my bum and everything else. My long dark hair hangs over the end of the bench as I wriggle futilely to avoid the chastising blows. So far today I have been paddled, caned, cropped, and flogged until my entire backside was a mass of glowing welts, and now the whip was in use.

It really hurts…but I am at least part-masochist, and the pain is a terrific turn-on for me. Instead of whimpering in agony, I shiver with lust as each blow triggers a rush of endorphins and adrenaline. If I wanted to stop this, all I would have to do is speak a safe word. I don’t. This is a test, and I want to pass it.

“Now, you sorry you spank me?” The woman speaking is Sunny, a delicate dominatrix from Thailand with black hair down to her thighs and dark olive skin. Her skin-tight red PVC body-suit has cut-outs that expose her small breasts with dark brown nipples, and her red calf-boots click on the dungeon floor as she lines up her next shot with the whip. She’s tiny, even next to me, but I can confidently testify that she is surprisingly strong.

Last week at a party she had lost a bet with Master Phillip, my Mistress’ husband (and my Master), that he couldn’t tease-fuck her into begging him to be allowed to cum. It took him nearly three hours, but he won her over in the end. The terms of the bet were that she should serve us as a maid for a week if she lost. What Master would have had to do if she won is something I have not discovered. So why were we in the Weston’s basement-dungeon with her whipping me? It’s all down to motivation, apparently.

When she started as a maid, Sunny was placed under my instruction as I did most of the maid work for the Westons. Their other slave, Amanda, is Master Phillip’s secretary where he works. Almost at once Sunny tried to seduce, dominate and otherwise rebel against me at every turn; it’s a hard trial for a submissive like me to resist a strong-willed dominatrix! At first I had resorted to spanking her, and then appealed to Mistress when she managed to spank me instead – I won’t go into how. Like I said, she is surprisingly strong.

By Tuesday, Mistress found the key to motivating Sunny as a maid, and we got along largely very well for the rest of the week, although I still had to spank her for getting things wrong now and then – Mistress absolutely insisted on it, and I confess I did enjoy pulling her over my knee and turning her brown bottom red.

Until Saturday. That’s when I found that Sunny’s motivation for being a good maid was: Mistress had promised her a day with me to herself, to do as she wished with. Given that I had spent a lot of the last few days spanking her, this meant payback time! I suspected at the time that she did things wrong on purpose, now I am sure that she was setting me up to get some revenge.

So here I am, my ass presented to an evil dominatrix with a score to settle. I have the feeling Mistress Trudy set me up on purpose as well, a test of my submissiveness and commitment to her commands; if so it will hurt a lot, but I will be richly rewarded later. It’s been like that throughout my internship, then slavery – the bigger the test, the better the reward.

“No, Miss Sunny,” I reply, breathing hard. “Mistress ordered me to spank you, and I am not sorry that I did.” It is tempting to say otherwise, though, this really hurts! Worse, the bitch has my sex visibly wet with lust. After months of Mistress Trudy’s unique blend of punishment and pleasure, getting punished for any reason makes me very horny.

“Oh, feisty!” she exclaims, and giggles. The whip hisses through the air and I cry out with pain as it leaves another burning weal on my cheeks. “I like you, you know? I promise Mistress Trudy that I not break you bad.” She struts over to me across the stone-flagged floor. Her hand runs lightly over my smarting cheek, her nails digging in lightly and aggravating the welts she has already left there with whip, crop, cane and paddle.

“Ohhhh, somebody got leaky pussy!” She coos as one long-nailed finger pushes between my drooling pussy-lips and slides easily into me, wriggling and playing inside like a manic worn. I try and stifle my squeak of pleasure and surprise as my hole spasms a little and squeezes her finger in gratitude. “Aw, you no be scared, Lydy,” she reaches around me to caress one breast. “I like play with you, you fun subbie girl. If I own you, I use you on my subbies to suckie-fuckie them if they are good!” I shudder with lust and fear.

She is a professional domme in that she is paid by men and women to dominate them – to restrain them, punish them, and reward them. By contrast Mistress Trudy is a lifestyle dominatrix, who lives her private life in a BDSM style. While I know that Mistress would offer my services to others – sometimes at an auction – she always vetted them first, a sort of play-prostitution as opposed to the real thing. If I didn’t like the idea, I spoke my safe word and I’d be let off – not that I ever did, I just knew that I could. I am not so sure Sunny vets her paying subs to the same standard, and it’s not a concept I am comfortable with. I am not sure I could do what she would command me…unless I was a lot hornier than I am now, anyway.

She giggles and puts a second finger in me, and I give a little involuntary moan. To ensure no more attempts at seduction, Mistress had locked us both in chastity belts for the last few days, so I am, frankly, gagging for good hard fuck.

“Thank you for the – oh! – offer Miss,” I gasp, “but I am happy serving Mistress Trudy.”

“Yeah, you good slave, but you horny slut too!” she agrees, starting to pump her fingers in and out rapidly, making a wet sound. I squirm as her assault sends ripples of pleasure through me. “Maybe if I no whip you to disobey Mistress, I fuck you ‘til you cum without permission, eh?” She works a third finger into my cunt. “Ohh, you tight, you no been fisted before!”

Shit! Fisted?

Slave Girl #6: Tested


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Welcome Back Wednesday

Well it’s been a crazy week, but at last my PC is repaired…well, mostly replaced, actually. Only my DVD drive is the same as before, after all the bits I had to swap out after my five-year-old motherboard decided to die on me, but at least I now have an awesome PC that runs about a hundred times faster than before. And isn’t steam powered.


After a week of frustration I am now chilling, and I hope all three of my fans haven’t abandoned me in my long absence. I even had to miss Masturbation Monday, but I’ll get back onto that just as soon as I can. The worst part of the crash was I lost some data, including some edits on my works-in-progress, which I am not happy about at all. So my posts will be brief and to the point until I get caught up with everything.

Slave Girl #5

Seeing as I missed on some teasers, here’s one I haven’t shared before. It’s from Lydia’s Path #5: The Party, and…well I’m sure you’ll get the idea. Our new slave girl is currently hooded and gagged and being taken somewhere…

Time passes, the car moves, and I wait.

Then after a while, it stops.

Cool air heralds the uncoupling of my safety belt, and a tug on my collar – probably from a leash – leads me out of the car, into cool night. Then into warmth, and the cloak is pulled off my shoulders, leaving me naked and exposed. Led onward again I walk as I have been instructed: with a proud sway of my hips, knowing the small bell on my clit piercing is jingling even if I cannot hear it. I know there must be people watching me, eyes on me, voices talking about me. The air around me moves and shift in temperature from the close proximity of other bodies near mine.

My skin flushes and tightens at the thought, and my head feels light. My nipples erect almost painfully, and my pussy gets warm and soon I will be wet. This party is not just a bondage party; it is a sex party too. Before the end of the night I will very likely be getting fucked by someone I have never met before. This has happened to me only once before, when Master Daimon visited Master and Mistress and had me for the night.

It was a fucking amazing night and I get wet just remembering.

I’m brought to a halt, turned to my right and have to shuffle forward until my small but firm breasts nudge into a larger, softer pair as naked as mine – probably Amanda’s as we are left standing, touching one another for a while.

A touch on my buttocks, a hand strokes them and then spanks them lightly making me squeak around my gag as my bum stings and quivers. The hand is gloved in latex or plastic, and another hand joins it, stroking my naked skin and exploring me intimately, sending shivers up and down my spine. My ass, my tits – from the touch and motion, I surmise Amanda is being felt up as well. I gasp as a hand dips between my legs, playing with my clitty-bell, rubbing my wet entrance, and I gasp and mewl with pleasure through my gag.

I am breathing heavily, very horny now, and both apprehensive and excited about what is to come. Without doubt I will be used and spanked and fucked, that much is obvious to me. These hands could be my Mistress’, or my Master’s, or they could be anyone’s. I could be almost alone in here, or surrounded by a crowd, and not knowing only adds to the excitement I am experiencing.

A tug on my leash draws me away from the other girl, and now many hands are all over me: male, female, naked and gloved. The hands tug and tweak my nips, squeeze my bum, jiggle my tits, rub my pussy, and more than one finger introduces itself to my hole or my ass, making me moan and squirm a little as I stand there, letting a crowd of faceless people make free with my body, raising my sexual tension higher. My gag suddenly releases and drops from my mouth, and gloved fingers tasting of my own juice push between my lips for me to suck on.

Another tug on my collar and I walk forward obediently, and kneel when it tugs down, regretfully away from all those wandering hands that have left me so horny and wet I am trembling.

There is a crackle, a burst of static startlingly loud in my ears as the earplugs that cut out my hearing now serve their second function of allowing my owner to give me orders.

“Lydia, you are facing a slave on a St Andrews’ Cross,” Mistress’ voice is loud and clear. “Find their cock and suck it, if you can make them cum in five minutes, you get a reward and they will be punished. If they last they get to fuck you, and if they make you cum, they get the reward and you will get punished.” I can hear the amusement in her voice. The punishment will likely not be bad, but I know that she wants me to do her proud. The edge, of course, is that I am horny and want to cum myself, but I must deny myself to please my owner.

“Yes Mistress,” I reply obediently, my pussy tingling. My voice sounds very strange to me, isolated, echoing in my own head.

I open my mouth and hands guide me forward, shuffling on my knees until I can smell a mix of male musk as well as a softer, feminine perfume, and a warm cockhead nudges my cheek and I rub my face against it. He is smooth and silky soft, shaven or otherwise stripped of body hair just as I have been. I turn my head and wrap my lips around the meat and start to tongue his glans, savoring his taste. He is uncircumcised, and I roll back his foreskin with my lips as I swirl my tongue around his cock-head slowly before I start to suck him in earnest, my entire body bobbing back and forth thanks to the restrictions of collar and arm-binder.

Thanks to Master Phillip I have become quite the cock-whore; under his tuition I now suck like a pro. Of course I want the slave to cum, and I can tell by his tension and throbbing he is straining not to. Unable to hear him, I am sure I can feel him moaning through his rigid meat. I lick, tongue, swirl, suck, tease and deliver, soon going deep-throat to try and push him over the edge for what feels like an age, but he holds back grimly.

Abruptly a hand grabs my hair and pulls me backward, off that dick.

“Good effort, no prize,” Mistress says, with a wicked chuckle in my ears. “Turn around and offer him your nice wet little cunt, dear. You’re such a dirty tart, if I hadn’t seen how eagerly you gave head I’d think you didn’t make him cum on purpose.”

Lydia’s Path #1: The Interview


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Slave Girl #2: The Trial


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Slave Girl #3: The Collar


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Slave Girl #4: The Training


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Slave Girl #5: The Party


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Al Fresco at the End of Summer


Summer is winding down, and the end of the warm weather means the end of couples heading off into the woods, fields, and other secluded places for a little fun in the sun or under the stars. I have to confess, it’s one of my favourite pass-times. All the BDSM gear might give the impression that the bedroom or the dungeon is the best place to get involved, but a blindfold, a few sticks and some rope can be wonderful in the hands of a former boy-scout!

Then there’s something very primal about sex in the open air, especially out in the countryside. You are surrounded by the sights, smells, and sounds of the natural world, and it gets better when you feel grass and earth under your toes, or under your bum for that matter, with the wind on your bare skin as well as well as the sun or the heat of a fire. It immerses the senses, which heightens those you focus on as surely as depriving them does.

Then there’s an added spice, the fear of being discovered. For your average couple it might be embarrassing being caught at it by the local venture scouts out on a ramble, but being tied up suspended from a tree, naked, or walked like a dog on a lead can lead to equally awkward moments I am sure – thankfully I have never discovered how awkward. I did hear about a troop of scouts on a night ramble in Cranham Woods once who wandered across a local coven of witches out celebrating midsummer, but that’s probably not quite the same.

One thing important to note about al fresco fun is that you should always be careful in choosing your location – not just for safety from people, but from the other elements too, and from your own indulgences. For example, if you like ropes, make sure you have something to cut them with. Trying to unpick a nasty knot in a hurry can be frustrating, after all. A secluded green patch could hide nettles or worse, and walking trails have people walking on them. Some prefer to use a tent for modestly and security, but to me that’s cheating, although I will go along with a natural bivouac or a cave.

So I guess as the nights draw longer, the summer might manage one more gasp of a warm day and if it does, don’t waste it!

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I wrote my werewolf series with outdoor sex firmly in mind for the most part. Street Wolf and The Wolf with the Red Roses have some outdoor fun in them, and Animal Magnetism has the action taking place in a cave.

Here’s a snippet from The Wolf With the Red Roses, the action taking place out in the desert under the sun:

Understanding dawns on me…this is why he brought me here: to make me understand what I was letting myself in for, if I chose to be with him. My head is spinning with all the information, and I am still not quite sure I believe it all.

“You know I’m in, don’t you?” I say, my voice quiet but firm.

“There’s one other thing,” Matt says, placing a finger on my lips to silence me, and I look askance at him. “Sex. Our body language comes out strongest and most instinctive in sex, and your language and mine can clash. Years ago, it wasn’t known for the wrong things said or done in bed to lead to a really bad end. There’s a way around that, we’ve found.”

“Oh well, that’s OK then,” I say, blushing a little but smiling.

“Is it? It involves ropes and blindfolds.”

My eyebrows shoot up. A hot rush of blood goes not just to my face, but to several other places as well. My nipples are hard as rocks and my pussy is pulsing again. The prospect of being blindfold, tied up, and ravished by Matt has me almost drooling!

“Oh,” I say, surprised. I can feel the blood rush to my face again. “Well, um, never let it be said I wasn’t prepared to be a little, ah, adventurous,” I manage to stutter, still blushing furiously. I’m not blushing just because we’re talking sex all of a sudden, I’m blushing because I am crazily turned on, and if he is telling me the truth about his senses there’s no way he doesn’t know it.

He just grins at me, a grin of triumph and anticipation that tells me without words at all that he damn well does know just how hot I am for him right now! Reaching into his pack he draws out a length of black cloth, and a thick blanket he spreads on the shaded ground.

“I don’t think I’ll need to tie you down,” Matt murmurs, holding up the blindfold, “not in the daytime, at the dark of the moon. This is just to stop you trying to meet my gaze. So long as you don’t try to take charge, you’ll be fine.”

“Me, take charge?” I blush.

“Yes, you are very submissive by nature,” Matt says with a smile. “That’s why I fell for you so easily. Unlike most normal people you put out a lot of the right signals to one of us already.” Reaching out he pressed the folded cloth over my eyes and bound it firmly around my head.

Oh god, this is it, he’s going to make love to me, and he’s going to do it right now, I realize. Along with it, a new thought dawns: My boyfriend is a werewolf…a frikking werewolf! Isn’t this going to be a tricky one to explain to Mom

I feel his firm hands take my arms and steer me onto the blanket, and urge me to lie down. I can feel and smell his closeness, our mingled sweat from the walk, the dry desert sage nearby. His lips claim mine, and my mouth opens for his hot, strong tongue to plunder my mouth. One of his hands locks in my hair as I simply surrender to him. I can feel his hard, strong body against me as he lays me back. The ground is firm underneath me, and I can hear my breathing and my heartbeat in my own ears in the stillness of the hot desert.

My hands reach out of their own accord, and encounter the hot skin of Matt, my lover, and slide around his torso. His heat, his closeness, send electric signals through my mind. His hands tug my shirt from my shoulders, then my sleeveless T-shirt is slowly pulled up to expose my own bare skin. Our kiss breaks for a moment to tug the garment over my head, although I know he could easily rip it in half. I throw my head back, turning my face to one side to expose my throat to him.

He growls, a deep primordial rumble of lust and dominance that sends a shiver down my spine. In that moment I easily can believe that he really is a werewolf; a wild and uncontrolled creature from the id of humanity. It adds a little frisson of fear to the intense arousal his musk has brought about in me, adding to the shiver that runs down my spine as he kisses my throat, grazing it with his teeth and the stubble of his beard. My skin feels hot and tight, and I welcome the relief as his questing fingers release the clasp of my bra, and it too is lost. His kisses run lower, and I am helpless but to arch my back and moan as his lips reach my breasts.

Lips, tongue, and then teeth locate on nipple, and it swells and throbs painfully and still pleasurable at the same time.

“Oh yes,” I whisper, as his kisses move across my breasts to the other nipple, already hard and engorges, and moments later so hard and swollen it felt as if it must burst. My own hands rubbed at the back of Matt’s neck and his shoulders as he worked his kisses down. With a little effort I scraped my own boots off with my feet as his kisses left a hot and cold trail over my abdomen.

Then he was at the belt of my jeans, and felt it tug as he unfastened it and drew it off, then my jeans are unfastened. Panting with need I raise my hips and Matt’s fingers slip inside the waistband of my jeans and panties and drew them down, and I felt the cool air against my moist sex as Matt drew them off me. His hands gripped my thighs even as I opened them to him. I am naked, blindfolded, and opening my legs to a man who is by his own admission both violent and dangerous…and his smell is overpowering, his presence undeniable, I can’t refuse him anything.

Hot breath plays across my pussy, and it tingles with need. A moment later he kisses me there, his tongue thrusting into my wetness, and my bones turn to jelly.

“Oh god yes!” I whimper, fighting to keep from grabbing the back of his head and grinding my pussy into his face as he works that tongue around and up my groove. Then it lashes my clitoris, and my whole body seems to spasm tight as I arch my back and claw at the blanket. “Oh yes!” My voice echoes off the hills around the tiny valley and through the walls of the canyons. Hot and cold flushes rush over my skin as I squirm helplessly in his powerful grasp as his tongue swirls and laps at my pulsing, soaring button.

Wild Discipline Montage

Wild Discipline #1: Street Wolf


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Wild Discipline #3: Animal Magnetism


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Wild Discipline #4: The Wolf With The Red Roses


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RIP, my PC

It finally happened. After five years of faithful service, my noble PC finally crashed and died on Thursday. I switched it on and although the fans whirred the screen stayed dark, while the usually HD light blinked once and then did nothing. Desperately I have tried to rescue it: I replaced the power supply, hoping that the 5V rail had blown, but to no avail. If the biops isn’t running, the motherboard has died. I am just hoping that the data on the hard drives is intact, although I do have back-ups.

So now comes the desperate scrabble for money to get a new motherboard (and because that PC was OLD a new processor and RAM with it) in order to resume my vocal posts and works of literary genius (hey, I can dream).

In short, what passes for normal service will be resumed as soon as possible. Sorry for the problems guys!