Introducing Kalli…

As regular readers will know, I am a very firm believer in writers supporting each other and today I am ridiculously excited to share with you all a wonderful, brand new talent!

The very lovely Kalli has realised her childhood dream and published her first anthology of poetry, entitled “I Love you, (I know)”, which is available from Amazon and Createspace as a paperback right now and will be in eBook format very soon.

In her beautiful book, Kalli takes us on a passionate voyage through love, lust and loss, documenting the soaring highs and heart shattering lows of a turbulent D/s relationship. Reading her poems, no one could question the depth of Kalli’s love and devotion; her utter despair and pain that follows her lover’s rejection leaps from the page and tears at the reader’s heart. I think it’s fair to say that we all aspire to be loved, and to love, as fervently as Kalli does.

Her use of language and rhythm is a joy, making the book incredibly easy and pleasurable to read. She sweeps us up and away on a submissive’s journey through joy and heartbreak, though the light and dark of love; we, as readers, feel her every emotion with every word and every verse.

I simply cannot urge you enough to go purchase this beautiful anthology – I honestly do think this lady has a serious talent and I hope this debut collection will not be her last publication.

I wish her nothing but success with this book and I do hope that her heart heals and that she finds the love she so very clearly deserves… anyone would be lucky to be loved so well.

Why are you still here? Go buy the book here

Follow news of I Love You, (I Know) on twitter at @Kalli_Kk

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Copyright, 2017, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Her Struggle

She lies before me, face down, stretched across the spanking bench; her wrists and calves strapped firmly to the legs by leather bindings. The skin of her back and buttocks shines beautiful, pale white, her exposed cunt smooth and pink.

“Are you ready, little one?” I ask.

She breathes, “Yes, Sir.”

*

He traces his hand across my ass, stroking me gently, running it up along my spine to grab a fistful of my hair and pulls my head back, stretching my throat.

Slap! His other palm connects with my bum, making me catch my breath. He releases my hair and allows my head to sink back down as he begins to caress my buttocks with his leather belt. Gently at first; warming my skin, sending shivers through me. I moan, “Oh thank you, Sir, that feels so good.”

*

Her ass is turning a fetching shade of pink. I strike her harder. She squirms and moans out loud.

“Count,” I tell her.

*

“One. Thank you, Sir,” I sigh as his belt stings my skin deliciously. He thrashes me as I count and thank him, building the force gradually, but certainly. My ass feels red hot. Each strike makes me whimper and twist against the velvet padding of the bench. My thighs start to tremble against the hard wood and, as I writhe, the leather bindings at my wrists dig into my skin. He pauses to caress my burning cheeks, murmuring under his breath, “That’s my good girl.”

I can feel myself growing wet.

*

She has begun to struggle against her restraints, which she knows is pointless as they are firmly buckled. I smile, knowing she enjoys the feeling of the straps cutting into her wrists and calves. More marks for her to admire later.

I lash my belt down on her glowing bum, leaving a clear stripe of burning red.

She whimpers loudly. Her cunt has started to glisten with arousal. I lick my lips and focus. It would be too easy to just take her and fuck her right now.

*

He hits me harder than ever and I sob, tears sting my eyes as surely as his leather stings my flesh. I feel my cunt throb and seep warm, wet want.

“What do you want, little one?” his voice is deep in his throat; he is unable to conceal his desire.

“I want you to hurt me, Sir. I want you to fuck me, Sir.”

*

I take one final swipe with my belt, marking her already scarlet skin a deep, dark crimson. She cries out a guttural, primal sound of pain and pleasure and spasms against the bench, the leather strap bruising her calves.

I kneel down and touch her cunt. It is hot and wet; swollen.

“You have been a very, very good girl,” I say, as I unbuckle the binds on her legs and spread her thighs wider. I bury my face in her, drinking in her unique scent, devouring her with my lips and tongue. She tastes sweet and salty at once; her sweat mingled with her juices.

My little girl moans and grinds against me as her orgasm forces her to cry out again, her flavour intensifying as she comes, before she slumps, exhausted and spent. I tenderly kiss her bruises, her skin hot against mine, and move to untie her wrists.

I look into her eyes; unfocused, cloudy, heavy lidded.

I lean forward and kiss her mouth before I lift and carry her to the bed, where I will show her how proud I am of her.

My girl.

 

The Boy

rainbowcircle1-150Prompt #227

Have you seen the new guy yet? Or do you remember back when he as still the new guy? Write a sexy story about him. Yes, him!


 

He was beautiful; the new boy.

I watched him as he stacked the glasses, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he worked, crouched down beneath the bar. He was singing something very low under his breath. He sounded good. I liked that he kept his own accent rather than adopting an American twang the way most people do when they sing pop songs.

He glanced up at me, his eyes light brown, and grinned. He knew I had been looking at him.

I felt my cunt throb as I stood over him. I’m old enough to be his mother, but in that moment that didn’t bother me. I just wanted to fuck him. I wanted to strip him naked and admire his young, firm body. I wanted those full lips of his on mine and on my clit. I wanted to ride him hard and fast and leave him drained.

He stood up and I realised he was a full foot taller than me. Standing very close to me, looking down at me, I felt a shift in the energy between us. Young as he was, it felt that he was in charge. The heat from his body, the scent of his skin, the sound of his breath, made me dizzy with desire.

“Anything you need me to do?” he asked. I hesitated, torn between telling him exactly what I wanted and staying professional.

He made it easier for me, “Coz I’m happy to do whatever you need,” and bent his head fractionally down towards me. I grabbed his hair, pulling his face down to mine and our lips clashed. He was as hungry for me as I was for him. His tongue in my mouth, his hands on my breasts, massaging them through my blouse, my cunt aching for his cock. He pushed my skirt up over my hips and slipped his fingers underneath my pants, smiling at how wet I was.

Leaning me up against the bar, he played with me, his eyes looking straight into mine the entire time until mine closed as I came, shaking and clinging to him for support.

A loud bang on the glass doors shattered the moment. The regulars were outside, waiting for their morning coffees or hair of the dog. He stepped back from me. Smiling, he put his fingers in his mouth and sucked them before walking over to open up as I fixed my clothes.

I was already thinking about closing time.

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Copyright, 2016, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.

I’m Still Here… Just

“What are your plans for today?”

“I’ve none. That’s the problem. Well, I’ve some laundry and ironing to do but that’s it.”

“Any writing?”

“Nothing to write about.”

“What about some photography? You haven’t done any in a while, have you?”

“Nothing to photograph.”

“Well, there’s your task today then.”

I sigh.

“You’ve got to help yourself love.”

This was our conversation as he dressed after his shower this morning.

*

You may, (or more likely, may not), have noticed that I’ve been very quiet for a while now. My last entry to this blog was July 18th, and even that was just to link to elust.

I have felt completely devoid of inspiration. I have nothing to say that I think is worth sharing.

I feel aimless; I have no routine, no goals, no purpose.

I drift.

Breakfast, lunch and dinner are the only markers of my day. Sometimes I feel like I am existing merely to get to the next mealtime.

Many days I don’t bother to get dressed.

I can’t remember the last time I was outside alone.

“I’m sorry I look so shitty,” I say several times a day. He replies, telling me to shush and that I am beautiful.

I am clueless as to how to fix this…

Do I need a routine? Do I need him to tell me what it is? The ‘little’ in me strives to be obedient and pleasing, but I know I will probably rebel against any instructions that he gives me, because I feel too tired, too apathetic to carry them out.

Perhaps I feel unworthy of feeling any better?

I am five weeks into my new medication… the so-called miracle pill that is Prozac. Is it working? Maybe, to some extent. But not enough. Not consistently. I have fleeting moments of confidence and contentment, where I do not despise myself, but they do no last.

I sit here, 9.50am, yet another day where I am not showered or dressed yet, and with no plans for the day ahead of me, with only a detached sense of resignation that nothing will change. Numb.

Is this it? Is this how it shall be? Forever?

Why am I even sharing these meandering thoughts? Why bore and burden you with my non-issues?

With a deep sigh, (apparently I sigh A LOT), I end this decidedly mediocre, self-pitying post.

I hope illicithoughts will return to being a place where I can express myself again, hopefully entertain you, make you think, make you angry, make you sad, make you laugh.

I hope, but I can’t promise.

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Copyright, 2016, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.