Flash Fiction – At My Feet

My foot looks incredibly pale and tiny, resting against the dark hair on his thigh. I smile as I watch him, tongue curling over his top lip in concentration while he applies the deep burgundy polish he chose to my toes, taking great care to not smudge any. His breath is warm on my skin as he gently blows to help dry the varnish. He smiles up at me, his eyes dark and wicked. Feeling greedy for him, I walk the painted toes of my free foot from his knee to his hip and as I begin to dip it towards his groin he casts me a stern warning glance… not yet.

Leaving the polish to set, he leans across and stretches my arms above my head, securing my wrists to the bedposts with a nylon stocking I had discarded on the bed before my bath earlier. I hope he might kiss me but, knowing how to prolong my anticipation, he hovers his lips over mine, teasing me with his breath, before taking my ankles and binding them together with the remaining stocking. He ties them tight so I cannot fight him.

His thick fingers stroke the soles of my feet so softly I can barely feel them; a delicious tickle trickles up through my legs and spine and I close my eyes to savour the sensation. I feel his weight shift on the bed and his hands are on mine. I have a flash of frustration that he has left my feet, until he begins caressing the soft, hyper-responsive skin on my wrists, moving his fingertips agonizingly slowly towards my inner elbow, where he lingers, teasing me with butterfly touches, making me writhe in pleasure. My skin is so alert that even the tips of his fingers repeating a pattern on it feels as if he is peeling skin away. They drift towards my armpits and he strokes in circles; I sigh contentedly. I feel like a spoiled kitten being caressed.

His hands glide down, over the silk covering my body, to the hem of my chemise. I lift my bum for him so he can push the flimsy material up over my hips, breasts and over my face, effectively blindfolding me. I feel heat flood my body; my face is flushed at being left so exposed and vulnerable before him. I start to feel a pulsing ache between my legs. I am torn between wanting this to last all afternoon and wanting the exquisite torture to end with him filling me, pumping inside me.

I flinch as his fingers find my nipple; rolling it, pulling it and twisting it the way he knows I love. A groan escapes my lips and I long to feel his mouth and teeth on it but he wants to extend my torment. His hands run over my torso, my waist, barely touching my hips and he firmly pulls down on my calves, straightening out my body, which has involuntarily arched in pleasure. My body is quivering; adrenaline and nervous electricity making my skin react instantly to his slightest touch.

I feel his breath again on my ankle as he traces his tongue over my ankle, pausing to gently suck on my heel before running it firmly up the centre of my sole. I cannot stop a moan from leaving my lips. He laps at my feet, tongue dipping between my toes as his nails cruelly scrape the sensitive skin underfoot. I instinctively arch my foot and curl my toes, trying to bend my knees to escape but he holds me in place, alternating his touch from excruciatingly pleasurable soft and gentle tickles to rough scratching as he nibbles and sucks my toes.

My breath is ragged, my heart racing, my cunt aches. I shake my head to move the chemise and allow myself to look down to see him. He is kneeling at my feet, his face and chest flushed, his erection straining against his boxers; a dot of precum darkens the pale jersey fabric. He pulls them off and rubs the tip of his gorgeous thick cock against my feet. I spread my toes wide and grip him between them.

“Please…” I whisper, my chest is rising and falling, my pulse pounding in my ears. I feel overwhelmed with the desire to render him helpless at my feet.

He unties the black stocking binding my feet, pushes us both further up the bed and leans back on his haunches allowing me to open my legs and take him between my feet. I know he can see how full and wet I am, how much I want this.

I rub the toes of one foot against his balls, pinching the skin gently while I run my other foot up and down his hard cock. I sandwich his glans between my soft, small feet and roll them, massaging him. Gripping my ankles, he thrusts himself into the narrow space between my arches, breathing hard, his eyes are fixated on what we are doing. I open my toes, gripping and rubbing along his shaft, my other foot circling his throbbing tip, taking it between my big toe and squeezing, milking him until he erupts all over my feet. His hot cum drips over my toes, blurring my new deep red colour, making it hard it keep a grip on his cock as it slips again between my arches. I caress him until he pulls away, satisfied.

He kneels forward, kisses the inside of my knee, his tongue once again teasing me as he licks the delicate skin of my inner thighs. He raises his face to smile at me before it sinks deep between my legs.



Copyright, 2018, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.


KOTW – A Girl Who Wears Glasses

As a kid, I always sat at the front of class. This was not because I was a swot or a teacher’s pet, (far from it!). I sat there because I couldn’t see the board from any further back.

I remember my first eye test and my mother standing over a very miserable-faced me, as I was forced to choose frames. I was very unhappy at having to become bespectacled. I felt ugly.

I was so unhappy I refused to wear them. I continued my squinting and was often told as a teenager that I was ‘snobby’ or ‘moody’, because I didn’t say hi to people on the street. Anyone who interacts with me here or on Twitter will know how far this is from the truth! I love to chat and am basically a big, slobbery, overly friendly puppy! The reason I didn’t greet people was that I simply didn’t SEE them!

Fast forward to college, and I was still keeping my status as a speccy-four-eyes a secret, until one day a boyfriend and his mate persuaded me to show them. IMG_1352

⬅️  I had quite large, “Wonder Woman before she spun around” glasses at the time and hated them.

When I put them on and saw the two guys’ jaws drop, and heard my BF breathe, “Jesus, you look just like Wonder Woman!” I laughed out loud.

However, I still refused to wear my glasses, not believing guys could ever find me attractive wearing them.

I tried various types of contact lenses, but always found them massively uncomfortable. So, I continued to squint.


These days I wear my glasses almost all the time. What has changed? Well, for one thing I just got really fed up of not being able to see! I am sure I have more wrinkles around my eyes than I should have, and this is probably caused by all that squinting.

But now, I actually think I look ok wearing my glasses. I have discovered over on Twitter that a large proportion of guys really, and I mean really, like girls in glasses. When I told the OH my plans for this post earlier, he rolled his eyes, saying, “I’ve told you forever that you are beautiful in your glasses!” to which I replied, “Yeah, but I needed a bunch of random strangers on the internet to convince me…!” We had a good laugh about that.

I wonder why guys dig chicks in frames so much?

Does it hark back to the old Wonder Woman fantasy? Is it a “sexy secretary” thing? Or perhaps they see a bookish nerd, who secretly is a filthy, kinky little minx?

Whatever, I am just glad to know that I am not less attractive because I am myopic.

To think it actually could turn a guy on is even better!

Wink, wink!





Copyright, 2016, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.

Motivation – KOTW

Sitting at my desk, my head pounding, stomach raw, I mentally berate myself for last night’s stupid behaviour. The ding of my incoming email makes me lift my head from where it rests on my folded arms.


“Fuuuuck! That does not sound good…” I gulp down some water, wipe my mouth and check my face in my compact before making my way to her office. A face to face with my new boss is the last thing I needed this morning.

“Enter!” in response to my rap on her door. Taking a deep breath I open it and go inside.

Honey blonde curls hang, hiding her face as she reads a file, not acknowledging my presence for a solid three or four agonising minutes. Finally, raising her head to face me, black framed glasses perched on her button nose, her lips a bright, vibrant fuchsia, unsmiling, “So, Janet isn’t it? Do you know why I’ve called you in her today?”

She doesn’t wait for me to answer, her long red nail tapping the file before her, “I’ve been reading your file. There is some excellent work in here and I’ve heard good things about you.”

I open my mouth to thank her but she snaps her fingers to silence me. Stunned by this, I blink and shut my mouth.

She continues speaking as if there had never been any interruption, “Which makes what happened last night all the more disappointing,” she glares at me, removes her glasses and sighs heavily.

“Have you any idea what an embarrassment you were to the organisation last night? Have you? For the record, getting drunk and making a pass at a client is never a good move.”

I hang my head, mortified that word of my behaviour, or rather, my misbehaviour has made its way to my boss.

“I am so sorry! I feel dreadful… I’ve been having some problems at home…”

“Enough!” she swiftly cuts me off, “Home is home, work is work. There is no excuse for this. None at all.”

Her sky blue eyes shine with temper as her gaze travels over me slowly, from toe to head and back down again, her glossy lip curled in contempt.

“I would be well within my rights to sack you this instant. Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

I am speechless, “Um… eh…”

Shaking her head in disdain she tilts it slightly, “I am going to offer you a choice. I could make a permanent note on your file, a written warning for misconduct. Or… You could agree to a spanking,” her perfectly arched eyebrow raised in question.

Did I just hear that? Did she say spanking?!

Once again, I am speechless, trying to process whether she has actually made the proposition or if my dehydrated brain is playing tricks with me.

“The note will be detrimental to any progression in your career Janet. You do want to move upwards I take it?”

“Yes! Yes of course, my work means everything to me.”

Resting her chin on her intertwined knuckles, she smiles a cold smile, “Well then, what will it be?”

My mind is racing: I need my work. I love my work. A spanking would be a one-off humiliation but at least my record would remain clean.

“Okay,” I reply.

“Okay what? Say it.”

“Okay, I will take the spanking,” I can’t quite believe the words I have just spoken.

“Good! Come here,” she beckons me with her finger and pushes her chair back from her desk.

I stand in front of her, trembling.

“Lift your skirt up over your hips.”


Her eyes are cold, as is her tone as she repeats the instruction. I do as she says and hitch my skirt up. She pats her lap, “Bend over me.”

Feeling on autopilot, I bend over her knee. She is at least ten inches taller than me so I fit easily on her lap. I gasp as I feel her jerk my knickers down to my knees – I had no idea she had that planned and my face reddens as I feel her palm caress my bare ass.

SMACK! Her hand connects with my exposed skin, stinging it, the shock of the sensation bringing tears to my eyes.
“Count girl. Count how many.”

“One,” I pant, “Two. Three. Four…” as her hand repeatedly punishes my behind.

The movement causes her own skirt to rid up her thighs and I see the lace top of her nylon holdups against her creamy skin. I am shocked to feel my nipples harden and my pussy grow wet – how can I be turned on right now?

Once I had reach the count of ten she leans down and whispers in my ear, “Just two more,” her warm breath tickling me, making my pussy even wetter.

“Eleven. Twelve…” I rasp as her last blow strikes me and she begins to gently soothe my burning skin with her palm, stroking me, caressing me.

“What’s this?” her fingers dip between my legs, “You’re wet! Janet, did you enjoy that?” she purrs, “Would you like me to help you?” Her fingertips brush against my lips and flutter over my throbbing clit. I groan out loud. I have never been touched there by a woman before. Her long fingernail flicks my clit and it feels exquisite – a confusing blend of pleasure and pain. She continues fingering me, her hand moving faster and faster as my orgasm builds, until I sob with relief as it surges through me and I lie, listless on her lap, my breath haggard.

“Good girl,” she pulls my knickers back up over my still sore bum and helps me to stand. Facing her, I feel my cheeks flaming from embarrassment mixed with the release I just experienced.

“I think perhaps we need to make this a more regular routine Janet. I think this could be a highly motivating tool for you,” she smiles and stands, bending down to surprise me, planting a soft kiss on my lips.

“I expect to see you back in here, same time Monday morning. Next time, don’t wear panties.”


Copyright, 2016, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.