Friday Flash – Room Service


“This way please, Sir. Your bags have been delivered to your room.”

I watched her as she led me up the stairs; my eyes following the black seam on her stockings which disappeared under a tight black skirt that hugged her hips and ass, her high heels silent on the plush red carpet. She glanced back over her shoulder and offered me little smile. Her lips were painted a deep, dark red and were perfectly shaped against her smooth ivory skin.

Turning the key, she opened the door to my suite and slipped inside, turning on the lights. She gestured to the left, “The bathroom,” she walked on, pointing out things, “your luggage, Sir, and here is your bed.” She turned to face me, her eyebrows high, silently checking if I had a question.

I took a twenty from my wallet and held it out to her, “Thank you.”

Dipping her head, she looked up at my from under her dark lashes, a faint blush colouring her cheeks, “I’m sorry, Sir, we are not allowed to accept tips here. But thank you,” her voice was soft.

“I would be tempted to ask to you to make an exception for me but I don’t want to get you into trouble,” I replied.

She walked towards me, her brilliant blue eyes locked on mine, stopping a foot from me. I could smell her perfume, a woody, musky scent.

She reached out and pointed to a small button on the wall. I was surprised to notice her chipped nail polish, everything else about her was immaculate.

“If you want anything… anything at all, Sir, please just press this and I will come. I am here to serve you. Anything…”

She squeezed past me, barely brushing my chest with her shoulder and clicked the door closed.

I napped for a while, tired from my journey, and woke naked under the soft cotton sheets. My crotch throbbed with want. I closed my eyes and pictured her in her fitted classic black maid’s uniform, her curves hugged by the restrictive fabric. I imagined ripping her blouse open with my blade and exposing her milky white breasts. I wondered what her nipples were like… I decided they would be small and pink.

I thought of her kneeling before me, head bowed, the nape of her neck exposed beneath the impeccably shaped blue-black 1920’s style bob as she awaited instruction.

I thought of the things I wanted to do to her body. How I wanted to feel her skin redden under my palm as I spanked her generous, round bottom. How I wanted to trace my knife along her skin, leaving pink lines, as she lay completely still for me. How I wanted to push her head against my groin, making her take the full length of my cock into her throat.

A groan escaped my lips.

My eyes wandered to the small service button across the room, and I thought, “She had said if I needed ‘anything’”…



Copyright, 2016,

All rights reserved.


Friday Flash #4 – Inspiration


“Fuck it!” Georgia ripped the page from the Underwood with such force it tore in two.

She pushed back her chair and stomped towards the kitchen, eliciting a squeal from Percy, the fat tabby at her feet. Glaring at her reproachfully, he retreated to the safety of the bed.

The deadline was looming and she had nothing. Her editor needed a piece of hot flash fiction.

“Hot enough to melt our readers panties and make them slide down their thighs while they fingerfuck themselves to heaven,” were the exact words she used.

But the words just weren’t coming today… and at this rate her readers wouldn’t be either.

Gulping down cold tap water she heard a ding from the MacBook, which meant He was online. A slow grin replaced her frown as she sat at her countertop.

↪ “How’s the story coming along?”

↩ “It’s not…”

↪“ Are you using that antique to write?”

↩ “I can’t type to a screen, not for sex. I need to hit those keys and hear the click-clack.”

↪ “Little weirdo! So, need a helping hand?”

↩ “What do you suggest?”

↪ “Take your top and bra off. Send me evidence.”

She complied, took a shot and sent it to him.

↪ “Good girl. I love to see those pretty pink nipples. Pinch them. Hard.”

↪ “Imagine my teeth on them, biting down, while I shove my fingers inside your wet cunt. Are you wet? Show me.”

Pulling off her shorts and knickers, she opened her legs and angled the cam to take a snap of her glistening lips, her fingers spreading them wide for his viewing.

↪ “Beautiful. Just beautiful. Think of my mouth moving down your body, reaching your smooth mound and biting into your skin, just enough to leave marks, while I pin your hands by your sides. You can’t stop me from sucking on that swollen clit of yours. Not that you’d want to stop me, right?”

Face flushed, breath rasping in her dry throat, she managed to reply.

↩ “ No Sir, please don’t stop.”

↪ “Tell me what you are?”

↩ “ I’m a horny, filthy little slut, Sir.”

↪ “A???”

↩ “Sorry, Sir. I’m YOUR horny, filthy little slut.”

↪ “That’s better. Maybe, for that indiscretion, I should tell you to stop…”

↩ “Please, Sir! Please don’t make me stop!”

↪ “No. Stop. Now.”

Tears of anger and frustration pricked her eyes.

↪ “Go back, write something so indecent and obscene that you blush with shame as you type it. THEN you may finish.”

↪ “Answer me… or I will deny you for longer.”

↩ “Yes, Sir. I’ve stopped. I am sorry, Sir.”

↪ “Go. Tap on that piece of old junk you love. Make me proud.”

↩ “I will, Sir. Shall I send you a scan of it?”

↪ “Good girl. Yes, I want to see what my little whore thinks up. Now go.”

Still naked, Georgia sat back at the old typewriter. The click-clacking began.


ps – love it when I hit bang on 500!

Copyright, 2016,

All rights reserved.

Training Day

My heart is racing as I cross the floor to where you are sitting at the bar. We have been Kiking for a few months and now, finally, we get to meet in the flesh.

You are more handsome in real life, your face more sculpted than in the photos you’ve shared. Turning around, you see me and smile, standing to greet me. With over a foot difference in our heights, you need to bend to kiss my cheek. A fraction of a second too late I realise you intend to kiss the other cheek too and we awkwardly almost meet lips. I feel my face glow with the rush of blood to my skin. I catch the scent of beer on your breath, mixed with tobacco.

“Hey you,” you say, pulling out the bar stool for me, then, “Or shall we sit in a booth?”

“A booth sounds good. And hey to you too!”

With your hand at the small of my back, you guide me to our seat and ask what I’d like to drink.

While you return to the bar I release the breath I have been holding.

You enquire about my journey as you set my wine in front of me and slide in to sit next to me.

Our thighs touch.

I cannot speak. Already I am wet and throbbing, feeling how solid your leg is against mine.

“You ok?” there is concern in your voice.

I mumble about needing the wine and take a large sip.

You stroke your beard, watching me, smiling at my nerves.

“Let’s start again. You look beautiful,” you say and reach out to stroke my cheek.

I can’t breathe!

I want you to kiss me, so badly.

“Kiss me…”

I realise I’ve whispered it out loud and am about to try to explain when I feel your lips on mine, covering mine completely, your tongue teasing me. Your arm around the back of my neck, pulling me so close it is hard to catch my breath.

The kiss grows deeper, more passionate. I feel your hand in my hair, gripping it, my chest crushed against yours.

Your tongue toys with mine. You suck on my bottom lip, stretching it, before kissing me again.

I have never been kissed like this before.

I never want it to end.

“Fuuuuck,” you growl under your breath, breaking the kiss but keeping your forehead pressed to mine, “I want to get you naked right now and fuck you on this goddamned table.”

The heat between my legs flares, my pants are soaked through.

Reading my mind, your eyes meet mine and you ask, “Are you wet?” your voice deep and throaty.

I nod.

Your hand sneaks under the table and up my inner thigh until you reach my underwear. Your fingers stroke the fabric.

You smile, “You really are wet!” pulling the crotch of my pants to one side, your callused finger finally meets my skin.

Foreheads still joined, breathing in each other’s air, you begin to strum on my clit rhythmically; expertly.

Our eyes locked as you tease me; fast, slow, fast, slow. My breathing grows more ragged.

“Are you close?” you ask.

I nod, unable to speak.

“Answer me. Are you close? Do you want to come?”

Swallowing hard, I reply, “Yes!”

Knowing I am about to reach my climax, you withdraw your hand and put your fingers between my lips, “Suck.”

I am confused, disorientated and frustrated beyond measure but I obey and lick my own juices from your fingers.

“You can come later,” you rise and take my hand.

We walk to the door and onto the street, where you hail a taxi, “Consider your training to have begun, kitten.”


Copyright, 2016,

All rights reserved.


On our first date you took me to the zoo.

I wore a light, summer skater dress, pale blue with tiny green flowers to compliment my eyes, and my converse sneakers. You were wearing your usual black tee and jeans and carried a backpack stuffed with picnic snacks and drinks.

I was beside myself with nervous excitement. Giddy. Punch drunk with desire for you.

We had not yet kissed.


Your hand on the back of my neck as we walked from one enclosure to another, casually making your claim. Stopping to watch the penguins waddle and dive into their pool, laughing at how clumsy they looked. You surprised me by giving them funny voices, playing out the conversations between them, making me double over laughing. I had no idea you had a silly side. Your face changed completely when you laughed, losing its regular pensive frown and becoming younger looking… freer.

You laid out food onto a secluded picnic bench while I sipped the cold sparkling water you had carried. Relaxed chat about the animals we had seen and the ones we planned on visiting next. Exchanging ideas of what our spirit animals would be; I chose a meerkat and you decided on a grizzly bear.

You leaned across, your face close to mine so I could smell the basil from the salad on your breath. I thought you were going to kiss me. God, I wanted you to kiss me!

You whispered, “Take off your pants, right now, and hand them to me.”

Taken aback at your directness, but simultaneously feeling a heat flare between my legs, I discretely tugged my underwear down over my thighs and feet, bunched them into a ball and passed them to you.

A hint of a smile on your lips as you raise them to inhale my scent, “Good girl. Now, how did that feel?”

“Dirty. Bad, but I love it,” I replied, realising it was the truth. The increasing wet between my thighs confirmed it.

Standing by the lion enclosure, me in front, your solid mass behind me, your arms on either side of me, resting on the fence. Again, marking me as yours.

“Look over there,” you pointed at a corner of the green area where a lioness is lazily sunbathing while a flame-maned male approached her. His giant paw pinned on her back as his teeth closed on the back of her neck.

“Do you know what’s happening?” your breath tickled my ear and I felt your hand slowly stroking its way up my thigh towards my ass, making me gasp, “Someone will see!”

“Shush, trust me. No one can see… Now tell me what’s happening over there.”

You fingers brushed my wet lips, I closed my eyes, unable to believe this was happening.

“Can you see now? He’s going to fuck her,” your fingers slid inside me, probing and stretching me, “Just like I am fucking you now.”

I watched as the lion mounted the female and his hips began to thrust.

Your breath in my ear, your body crushing me to the fence and your fingers pumping inside me.

Within a minute of starting, the lion roared deep from his chest, shuddered and rolled off the female, spent for now.

Your thumb flicked my clit, my breathing grew faster as the heat built within me, the delicious spread of electricity from my crotch outwards to every nerve ending in my body as I came, my cunt tightening and gripping your fingers. Your arm around me, supporting me as I drooped against the fence.

Your fingers left me. I heard you sucking them, tasting me.

“Time to go, baby girl.”

You lifted my chin, turning my head around to you. I breathed in the spicy sandalwood of your beard oil as you planted the slowest, lingering kiss on my mouth, before saying, “We are not finished yet.”


Copyright, 2016,

All rights reserved.

Taking Emilia

Her skin is flawless alabaster, smooth and cool to the touch. Her cheeks pale, expect for the slightest hint of pink flushing the apples beneath her clear crystalline eyes, which are generously framed by long, doe-like brown lashes. Honey coloured waves hug her perfectly proportioned shoulders and cascade down her back to her narrow waist. My fingertips softly brush some hair back from her collarbone, exposing the curve of her upturned breast, her nipple the palest shade of pink. A defined line runs between her breasts down to her navel, marking the place where her hips begin to swell into a pleasing figure 8. My eyes take in her flat stomach, smooth all the way to the tempting V where her thighs meet in a coy cross.

Emilia remains still, unblinking; the perfect woman… My perfect woman.

I have loved her since the first time I saw her as I passed the store one day. Her immaculate, unblemished skin all but stole the breath from my lungs. Once I started working there, I noticed how her silent tranquility filled any room she was in. I knew then I had to have her. I had to make her mine.

I had waited in the toilets after closing time, until I was sure everyone had left the building – we are alone, Emilia and I. I have the car ready beside the fire exit, complete with a soft blanket to shield her naked skin and keep her warm. Soon she will lie next to me and my arms will  be her protection from any chill. I plan to bathe her in scented oils, wash her long golden curls and tuck her in to her new bed. She will never want for anything ever again. I will make her happy, as she will make me.

“Come, my angel,” I whisper in her ear, resisting the urge to recoil from her slightly dusty scent, and lift her. She is feather light but stiff in my arms, her limbs unyielding, but I manage to transport her from the storeroom and through the department store to the exit leading to the back alley. I care nothing about the security cameras following me – from this moment I have no intention of ever returning to this place. I will have no need to, now that Emilia and I are to be together.

A grunt escapes me as I struggle to position her in the passenger seat of my car; I must help her bend her knees to fit. My good, wonderful Emilia, as compliant as she can be, given her limits. Wrapping the cashmere blanket around her, I pause and allow my lips to barely caress her elegantly chiseled cheek bone as I fasten her seat belt, “Now, my angel, it will be just the two of us soon.”

Pulling out from the curb I reach over and take her small, rigid hand in mine, and squeeze. The fiberglass is cold and unyielding. A wide smile brightens my face. My Emilia will always be beautiful. She will never age or wither, never tire of me, never resist me.

She is eternal.

Mine forever.



Copyright, 2016,

All rights reserved.



F4TF #16 – Kinky Fuckery


I discovered that I found it actually surprisingly difficult to answer my own question this week! So, I present a bit of a meandering post… apologies.

Do you have any fetishes? Will you tell us about them; what they are, why you enjoy them, maybe how you developed them? Are you ashamed or embarrassed by them or are you happy to be open about them? Do you think they are unusual?

Yes! Yes I do!

It’s no secret that I love to be hurt during sex – slapping, spanking, whipping, pinching… groan… I love to see the marks afterwards and feel the residual aches.

I adore being bound by rope, cuffs, his belt. A firm hand around my throat is always welcome.

I rarely have sex without a blindfold these days. I get off on the vulnerability of it and the sense of not being in control.

I am dying to try some blade and needle play but I need to get the OH on board with that first.

I have an exhibitionist streak, in so far as I loved to be watched as I play. Again it is the feeling of being vulnerable, exposed, being used in a way for someone else’s pleasure.

I am a submissive and as such I like to be controlled during sex, used. When I await him, in position on my knees, blindfolded and in whatever he has instructed me to wear, I tremble with anticipation for what he has planned for me. I physically shake and shiver. It’s deeply psychological.

I also identify as a little, and while this is not actually a sexual thing for us, it is technically a kink I guess. We do not engage in age play; it’s more so just who I am, childlike and playful in everything I do. On second thoughts, it is not a kink or fetish as I derive no erotic pleasure from it, it really is just me.

I am not sure it extends to fetish level, but I do really, really love a man’s hands and forearms… for me they are sexy as hell.

I do enjoy a certain amount of medical fantasy, but that’s all the detail you’re getting!

I can get incredibly turned on my accents and foreign languages – German and Russian in particular make me melt. Remember Jamie Lee Curtis’ character in A Fish Called Wanda? That’s me! (I even indulged in my love for German into a story.)

I do like a uniform! I cannot possibly divulge my favourite one though as it is pretty out there and, while I am not ashamed of it, I fear that it might put people off if I told you. I also have a particular ‘thing’ that I like that I am not comfortable sharing with you… it’s too personal.

Where my kinks come from I do not know. I think perhaps it’s a bit like magic… if I examine the ‘why’ too much it will lose it’s… well, magic!


Copyright, 2016,

All rights reserved.

Kink As A Therapy?

I recall once reading an article on Fetlife about the use of kink as a form of therapy, especially in terms of recovery from sexual abuse. I no longer use Fet and am trying to do some research on this topic but I’m not having much success.

Then it occurred to me that I have a wealth of resources at my finger tips right here in the form of other kinksters and sex bloggers! I would be so grateful if you could share any information you have on this subject.

I’d appreciate any and all help you can offer.

Thanks guys and gals!

Love y’all!


  • note: I am in no way suggesting that people who enjoy kink or fetishes are doing so because they are damaged or broken as a result of having experienced sexual, physical or emotional abuse. Studies have shown that this simply is not true. Please don’t let this query become a debate about that.


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