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.



Elust #79

Elust 79 header
Photo courtesy of Marie Opens Up

Welcome to Elust #79

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #80? Start with the rules, come back March 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!


~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

The Joy of Sucking Cock

Making Porn

My Valentine

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

The One

Midweek Fantasizing – The Portrait

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!


Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

A kiss is just a kiss
Turning Corners
Another Day, Another Planned Parenthood Visit
My first vanilla date
Want, Need the Power of your Masculinity!
I don’t know how to date.

Erotic Fiction

Soft Lips
The Introduction
Erotic Fiction: “Words”
Darkness and the Rose
Be Careful What You Wish For
The Tube

Erotic Non-Fiction

For You, It’s Always Yes
Gawan: Intro to Flogging
The Talker: An Introduction
My wildest fantasy: Ship slut
Time for something quick…
Spread Legs and Open Mouth
My Girl in Havana
Let’s Watch some Porn

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

An Artist’s Story: Tails and Portholes
Sleeping With Our Future President
To Dude Who Was Offended By Lack of Escort
Try Love, Not Anger
Risky Sex
Why Cosmo is the worst (again!)

Writing about Writing

Condoms: fictional contraceptive of choice
Writing Fat Characters In Erotica

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Masochistic Mastermind
Take me to where I need to be.


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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.

F4TF #3… Punishment or Pleasure?


This weeks F4TF opened with:

Within the D/s community, there are times when it is necessary for a Dom to administer a corrective spanking/caning/thrashing. Our question this week, however is directed to those on the receiving ends of such punishments.

Do you consider a corrective spanking/caning/thrashing as a pleasure or a punishment?

This is an interesting question that raises several further questions for me about the very nature of  D/s relationships. I think one thing that is very important in the world of kink is the acceptance that there is no one “true” or “right” way to do D/s. Being dictatorial about how D/s “should” be does not sit well with me.

As long as the basic principles of SSC or RACK or PRICK are at the forefront, (whichever phrase suits your mindset), there are no hard and fast rules that couples should feel they need to adhere to.

So, bearing that in mind, I have to challenge the opening line, “Within the D/s community, there are times when it is necessary for a Dom to administer a corrective spanking/caning/thrashing.” I think a more accurate phrasing might be,Within some of the D/s community, there might be times when it is necessary for a Dom to administer a corrective spanking/caning/thrashing, if that is part of the dynamic in that relationship.”

(You might think I am being picky and pedantic, but I think it is important to be clear in order for me to write my response to the question.)

So… without any further ado…

I am a submissive woman who loves experiencing pain… a spanking is, for me, always a pleasure.

To call a spanking a punishment simply doesn’t work for me for a number of reasons:

Firstly, and obviously, if I enjoy something as much as I enjoy being spanked, whipped, pinched or hit, it is impossible to think of it as a negative thing or as a punishment. If it were used in our relationship as a punishment then I am afraid I would spend all my time misbehaving in order to earn my marks!

Secondly, I identify as a service/natural submissive. By this I mean that I have a very deep rooted need to please and serve. I will always try to follow any instruction given to me to the letter and if I fail, that in itself is punishment enough for me. For him to tell me he is disappointed with me or feels I have let him down is crushing to me. For me to know this is unbearable and trust me, I will punish myself plenty for it.

Finally, I have a problem with a dynamic where he feels entitled to punish me physically. This may well be linked to my views about using corporal punishment on children, which I am 100% opposed to. I think if a child, (or a submissive for that matter), requires correction for bad behaviour, there are far more effective and fairer methods of achieving this than using a hand/cane/belt. I think, for me personally, the idea that my husband has the right to physically punish me sits too closely to domestic violence. (I know BDSM is not the same as DV, ok? I know this, but I cannot accept that anyone has the right to use any form of violence to punish another person for their behaviour – I know plenty of you will vehemently disagree with me! That is fine too.)

Add to this my personal belief that a D/s relationship is grounded in equality and respect, and that the D can make mistakes or engage in less than perfect behaviour just as easily as his submissive can, and I cannot accept the concept of punishment.

Our relationship is grounded in good communication. If he thinks I have fucked up he tells me. If I think he could improve his behaviour, I tell him.

For us, spanking, pinching, slapping, cropping, paddling… whatever… is a pleasurable form of release for me, as well as being a powerful representation and demonstration of my submissive status, and for him it is a potent and effective way for him to exert his dominance and control.

I am sure many people reading this will have completely opposite views on this topic, but that is one thing that, for me, makes BDSM/kink so wonderful. There is room for everyone!



Copyright, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.

My Happy Place



Kneeling on the floor. Naked, forehead resting on the carpet, arms stretched out in front of my bowed head, waiting for Him.

Hearing Him open the door and enter the room. Sensing Him watching me.

Knowing I will be used for His pleasure.

Knowing that I have no decisions or choices to make.

Knowing He will bind me, spank me, slap me, torture and tease me until I float away in ecstasy.

Knowing He will leave me wrecked and ravished, bruised and marked but happy.

Hearing the words…

“Good girl.”

My happy place.

Audio here

Check out who else is being Wicked.

Copyright, 2015, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.

How Would It Be…

I want to be spanked.


I crave it.

You say you want to spank me.

How would it be… if it could happen?

I would act brattishly. I would be naughty and mischievous. I would pretend to not hear instruction. When corrected I might pout, or stamp my little foot.

At first you would be amused at my silliness. You would find it endearing. How cute that the little girl acts up in order to provoke a punishment.

But soon your patience starts to wane. It becomes less fun dealing with my shenanigans.

You would warn me sternly to behave.

Sensing that I am close to receiving the spanking I ache for, a small, ever so slightly smug grin plays around my lips and I would tilt my head cheekily at you.

“Over here! Now!” you would command, demanding unquestioning obedience.

Perhaps you would be slightly surprised when I comply immediately. Perhaps you know me well enough not to be.

I move towards where you have indicated without hesitation.

Would you want me over your knee? Over a stool or bench? Bent over holding my ankles? Bare bottomed or clothed? Do you remove my pants or do you instruct me to?

I think you would direct me to lie across your lap. You would hitch my skirt up over my hips and pull down my underwear with a sharp tug. My face would flush with excitement and perhaps some shyness at being exposed so.

Your hand would caress my bare buttocks, gliding over them, stroking them. Abruptly you would raise your arm and, whack! Your palm connects with the tender skin of my ass with a loud slap, making me twitch in surprise. A giggle erupts unbidden from my lips and yes, I feel myself become wet.

Your hand would then rub my pink skin before administering another hard slap, building a rhythm alternating between each cheek. You would be relentless but always controlled. I think you would make me count the strikes out loud, enjoying hearing my voice become more breathless with each one.

I think you would know how turned on I would be as your hand repeatedly punishes my ass.

Would you know how much I would want your fingers to slide inside me? How much I would crave to feel you touch me, tease me, make me come?

Would I part my thighs ever so slightly to reveal my arousal? Show you my folds glistening wet, swollen with desire? Would you answer my silent plea? Would your hand desist with its punishment? Would you stroke me softly, feather light caresses from your fingertips? Would you smile to yourself hearing my helpless whimpers as I get closer and closer to my climax? Would I feel you growing hard beneath me? Would my mouth water at the thought of satisfying you, taking you into my mouth, licking and sucking until you explode on my tongue? I think that would tip me finally over the edge to orgasm and I would cry out and spasm on your lap, my teeth biting into my fist.

Is that how it would be? What would happen next?

Your turn…

Copyright, 2015, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.

Good Girl


The muscles in my calves quivered, stretched to their limits. Cramps began to set in my ankles and toes. Beads of sweat freckled my forehead, pasting my fringe to my damp skin.

I was not sure how long I had been standing on my tiptoes now but it felt like eternity.

“Open your eyes!” he commanded and I obeyed. He sat in his dress shirt and charcoal trousers in the leather chair in the corner of the room, collar button undone, ankle resting on his knee, a glass of scotch in his hand.

“You hurting?” he asked.

I nodded my head furiously, “Yes! Please Sir, may I take a break?” feeling that I might simply have to give in and break his orders in spite of what his answer may be.

He tilted his head, his eyes scanning my face and body, observing the physical and mental effort it was taking for me to remain in position, “Ok.” He raised himself up from his chair and approached me, his hands on my waist to help me place my feet flat on the ground, avoiding the upturned Thumb Tacks he had placed on the ground beneath my raised heels.

“Into position,” he said as he opened the top drawer of the dresser. I flexed my ankles and tried to ease the ache in my calves, then lowered myself to my knees, my forehead on the carpeted floor, arms outstretched in front of my bowed head, buttocks in the air. The stretch felt good after standing on my toes for so long.

I heard him rummage in the drawer and wondered what he had in store for me next.

The unexpected tickle of the soft leather of the flogger over the skin on my back caused a shiver down my spine and goose bumps all over my body.

Naked expect for my collar, I remained motionless as he circled me, tracing the straps over my skin, teasing me.

“Why are you being punished?” he asked.

“I was disobedient Sir. I was bad.”

“Sit up! On your knees.”

I lifted myself up and sat back on my heels, hands resting palm up on my thighs.

“Open your legs.”

I followed his instruction and felt the sweet sudden sting of the flogger between my parted thighs. I squeal.

“The more noise you make the harder I will go, understand?”

I nodded and bit my lip.

“Hands behind your head!” I linked my fingers together at the back of my head, pushing my breasts out, leaving me exposed and vulnerable.

The next strike was across my belly, hard and sharp, leaving red lines on my pale skin. I clenched my eyes and jaw shut tight, determined not to make another sound.

“Stand girl.”

As I steadied myself his fingers found and squeezed my nipple, twisting it until it burned, bringing tears to me eyes. The leather slapped against my already tender nipple. I winced; involuntarily, l flinched away from him.

From his pocket he produced the steel clamps and fixed them onto my nipples before lifting the linking chain to my mouth and making me take it between my teeth, raising my breasts up off my chest.

I stood before him, trembling as he laid down the flogger and reached for his metal ruler. The impact was light at first on the underside of my breast and I relaxed and exhaled. Seeing this, he, without warning, slapped the delicate area hard with the ruler; so hard I couldn’t stop myself from crying out. His hand rubbed the reddened patch of skin, soothing it, before bringing the metal down sharply on my other breast, repeating this, switching from one side to the other until my skin burned.

I pinched my lips together and breathed through my nostrils, struggling to maintain my composure.

“Such a stubborn little girl aren’t you?” he grinned at me, making me giggle despite the pain.

Taking the chain from my mouth, he pulled firmly, stretching my nipples more than I thought possible, lead me over to the bed and pushed me face down over the edge.

Tying my wrists together over my head with a stocking I had discarded earlier as I had stripped for him, he forced my legs apart, leant down, his breath warm was against my ear, as he growled, “Stay!”

Heat flared between my legs and I became even wetter than I already was; I love his breath in my ear. The clamps on my nipples bit into me more as my weight pressed them down onto the mattress.

“I don’t think you’ve truly learned you lesson just yet…”

I heard him unbuckle his belt and tensed for impact, smiling against the bed covers.

He teased me with the tip of the belt, flicking it gently over my exposed wet clit, making me tremble in anticipation, before bringing it down on my buttocks with force, back and forth in altering directions.

The sting was glorious. Liberating. Releasing.

I closed my eyes and allowed myself to surrender entirely to the pain, feeling myself begin to drift away into heavenly bliss. Trusting him completely to give me what I needed. My hot tears soaked into the duvet as he reigned down my correction without mercy.

I felt him enter me with a swift, fast thrust; his hot, hard erection filling me, splitting me open. I bit down hard onto the bed-spread to stop myself crying out as he pounded into me, the head of his cock persistently rubbed against my g spot, making my stomach flip somersaults and my thighs quake and tremble.

“Come for me! Come now!” his throaty voice betraying his own impending orgasm.

I gave myself over to the surging rush of my climax, feeling it swell and travel through my entire body, my muscles squeezing him tighter, milking him as he exploded inside me.

His weight pressing down on my back as he laid over me, his lips on the back of my neck, whispering, “Good girl, baby.”

I basked in a warm mixture of love, joy, release and belonging.




Copyright, illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.