Dead Chicken

 Anger, Erotica, Meme, Meme's, Punishment, Spanking, Wicked Wednesday  9 Responses »
Sep 282014
 

Todd and Courtney. Quarterback and Head Cheerleader. Prom King and Queen. They married out of high school without ever knowing a thing.

Todd was lucky enough to be the eldest of the Tucker Brothers. All he had to do was play it straight and his Dad’s construction company was his. He worked hard every day to support his new wife and new life. He brought home a paycheck. He was responsible. He loved Courtney, almost blindly as young love sometimes is.

“I hate touching this dead chicken!” Courtney squawked from the kitchen.

“It’s not dead, Court. It’s raw.” He chuckled a little bit.

“Oh my fucking God! I…I don’t even! Oh my God, my nails. I hate this…fatty stuff. Why is this bumpy? ….Is this flesh?!” Courtney’s hands tore away the clammy skin of the bird.

“Uhhhhhhhh!” She whined.

“I’m sure it is, babe. Chicken’s got skin on it. You can wash your hands.” Todd was trying to zone her out . His crew finished early on the job site he ran. A few of the guys were headed over to Milt’s. Todd came home, took a shower, and hit the couch for the highlights of the games he missed. He wanted a little downtime.

“I can’t wash the Sam-o-nilla off. You can’t even see that. It comes from dead chicken. I hate Sam-o-nilla! It’s probably all inside this …..FAT!” Courtney continued to cut away at the tendons.

“Sam..ohhh….what? Court, you’re not the first person to handle a chicken.” He turned the television up a few decibels. He gave into the depression of another missed opportunity to relax. All because he married a drama queen.

“I’m not ever doing this again! I hate the way it feels. It’s too hard. It’s chicken out of a can from now on. I don’t care.” Courtney went into full fake crying mode. The chicken was in a pan. The pan went into the oven with a lot of dramatic slamming.

“Hey babe?” He was moved towards the door for his boots. He slipped them on and walked into the kitchen to see her cupped hand pushing chicken fat into a plastic grocery bag. He leaned against the doorjamb and smiled when Courtney looked back at him.

“Babe? I’m gonna run over to Milt’s. I’ll be back.”

“Be back before this chicken is done. And don’t eat anything over there. You’re eating this chicken, Todd!” Courtney yelled after him.

“Hey man!” Milt was happy to see him. Todd was ushered in and offered a beer by Milt’s wife. Milt married up. He talked his old lady into walling off the dining room for his office. Milt’s “office” had hand-me down recliners and someone’s college couch. It had speakers scattered around and a television the size of half the room. The place was a dump, except for the television, and the beer. Todd loved it.

Todd was getting comfortable in one of the old recliners, settling in with a beer to watch an actual game. A few of the guys were talking about money they had on the upcoming play-offs. Everything stopped when the door opened. The room lit up with a bright white light. Milt’s wife slipped in and dropped off a tray of meats and cheeses. She refilled the ice bucket with a six-pack and took out some empties, silently. Once she left everyone began talking where they left off. Milt looked around.

“Sorry guys, she’s supposed to knock before she comes in here. I’ma have to spank her ass for that one, huh? I bet she thinks I’ll forget. Dex. Remind me or I might forget.”

The room burst out laughing, and then Dex kicked in about his own wife.

“I had to beat Karen’s butt black and blue the other night for talking back.” He shook his head back and forth.

Robert asked if either of them had ever used a switch or a paddle. Todd took this all in for about an hour. He thanked the guys for the night, Milt’s hospitality, Milt’s wife as well. He had a hard time looking her in the eye on the way out, knowing what she had coming to her.

Todd came home to find Courtney with wet hair, just out of the shower. She was in the same mood he left her in.

“That chicken was horrible. The inside wasn’t done, but the outside was white. All that work was wasted. It wasn’t even safe to eat. I hate cooking! Just so you know, I’m never touching a dead chicken again!” She didn’t have time to dress. She was still assaulting her hair with a towel. Todd reached for her waist, turned her around and bent her over his knee. He gave her ass a smack with his hand, then another, and another, stopping only to speak, then smack again.

“You hate everything!”

*SMACK*

You complain constantly!”

*SMACK*

You have a shitty attitude!”

*SMACK*

Todd realized he had to go all the way through with it.

“All of that is about to change!”

“Todd! No! Stop!” Courtney squealed and kicked her feet. Her bottom was being held hostage. It hurt. She couldn’t believe he spanked her. He stood up and pulled her face-to-face.

“You will change your bad attitude or continue getting spankings. My bet is that you’ll probably have more coming.” Todd smiled down to her.

“This isn’t fair! You’re bigger than me. It hurts my butt.” Courtney coughed up tears to go with her red bottom.

“It’s supposed to hurt, baby. It’s a punishment.” He cooed down to her.

They were silent for a moment. She nuzzled her face in his chest, pouting.

“Todd?”

“What, babe?”

“Did any of this have to do with the dead chicken?”

 

Wicked Wednesday

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Property’s Progress

 Abduction, Anger, e[lust], Emotional Pain, Emotions, Erotic Fiction, Erotica, Fear, Hair Pulling, Leash, Meme, Meme's, Ownership, Property, The Property Series  41 Responses »
Feb 282014
 

The majority of her wounds healed and soreness dissipated. He believed it was a bruised rib that was the main issue. The rest were bruises, scratches, and cuts. He put them there. He examined and tended to each one, gently. He helped her get into a warm bath. There weren’t many words exchanged between them. She faltered, breaking-in words like “Sir” and “Master.”

She preferred the shower. He allowed her to shave. He watched her. She returned the razor to him when she was finished. He would sit silently on the toilet, his head lolling from one side to the other in appreciation. He took the razor. She closed the curtain and finished bathing. He left the bathroom to go back to whatever he was doing. She caught him, once. He was standing with his back to the doorjamb, listening. She was singing in the shower.

Dressing was a game. He gave her first choice. A sharp “stop!” from the doorway … and she knew her outfit for the day was chosen, even if she only had on parts of it.  There were days when she wasn’t allowed clothes at all. The weather was warm enough that bare flesh and lite materials were not an issue. But the evenings…

He initiated the walks. She wore a collar. It’s soft, black leather didn’t make up for its heaviness around her neck. At least it didn’t rub her horribly. She had trouble keeping up with his pace. His leash was short. Heavy chain looped through the thick O-ring on her collar. She wanted to wander. He wanted her right by his side. He was anxious about letting her out. She was anxious about being out.

The collar and chains kicked up a puff of dirt when they fell from her neck. They walked in the house with the sun setting behind them. She felt the eggshells she walked on would give into the burden of what to say next.

“Thank you, for taking me with you… on the walk, Sir.” She shivered while she moved around, using the lamps to bring the room to a warm glow.

“You’re welcome, pet.” He freed his feet of his boots at the door and smiled on his way to take up the length of the couch.

“It’s a little chilly, Master. Would you make a fire?” She gave him a hopeful smile.

“No. I’m warm. It would make sense that if you want to be warm, you would be over here next to me.” She didn’t know how to say ‘no’ to him without riling him up. She stayed on the floor, in silence.

He looped through the channels until he found something he liked. She chuckled at the show. He playfully poked her with a sock’ed toe. Inside jokes from the days when they were a “real” couple riddled their time together. Those moments caught them off guard and confused his new order of operations.

Well into the night, the breeze that trickled through the open windows in the home got the best of her. She scooted herself closer to the couch, inching towards warmth.

“You going to hide down there when December comes, pet?” He chuckled. Eggshells, again. Some things were so familiar. Some things scared her to speak about.

“Hopefully you’ll give me a blanket by then, Sir.” She couldn’t imagine being kept on this property, being his little pet, until winter.

“I believe I just gave you my answer on that one.” He reached down and twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. His touch could quickly go from good to bad, from bad to worse.

“Were you not listening?” He let the lock of her hair slip through his fingers and fall back down to her shoulders. She turned around to look at him.

“To be honest, Sir… I need to go home. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t bite my tongue. I can’t snuggle and call you ‘Master.’ It’s not true. You know I don’t feel that way. I’m scared of being here. I’m scared of you hurting me. I don’t feel the same about you.” She was pouring on a thin layer of confidence. Trying to control that much apprehension left her visibly shaking.

He turned his head to look at her.

“You’re not going home. You’ll snuggle and be glad I let you. You’ll call me Master because I own you. Trust me, you’ve got plenty of time to get comfortable with it. You best make sure that I know you’re comfortable with it, too. I expect you to make progress. You might not have feelings for me like before, but you will. You’ll submit again. It’ll be easier this time.” He reached out and tugged at a lock of her hair, playfully.

“Smile, pet. No need to fight a battle you can’t win.” He went back to his television show.

She was speechless. Her attention drifted towards the television, too.

elust

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Good Fucks and Bad Business

 Anger, Choking, Death, Fear, Fucking, In Trouble, Meme, Multiple Orgasms, Physical Pain, Sex, Uncategorized, Wicked Wednesday  4 Responses »
Feb 052014
 

Dead GirlCatching the signal from one of her friends, Angela brushed her skirt, took a deep breath and walked to where he was sitting. She wasn’t even supposed to have her friend there, but Marie was almost her sister and how in God’s name was she supposed to go through this without her? She could also give her Mother some closure if this all went South, God help.

It was cold in Jersey. She was dressed to a tee thanks to Jimmy. She was wearing a big warm fur from Jimmy. And she was wired to the fucking gills thanks to the fucking FEDs. She was also going into Jimmy’s place. Jimmy’s place! She tried to tell the FEDs that they didn’t have nobody inside there. They kept insisting that they did. Fucking FEDs.

Angela was a girlfriend. Angela also processed a certain amount of coke that she’d recently been busted on which gave the FEDS reason to wiretap her phone. They got Nicky on everything from Conspiracy , Racketeering, down to fucking jay walking. So she rolled. Now she’s a rat. Now Nikky’s gonna kill her.

When she finally sat down across from him, she knew she’d hit a lucky. He was high as fuck, all fidgety and shit. She moved real close and shushed him, “Hey, hey, Baby…what’s wrong?” The waitress came by and Angela waved her down, “Scotch! Two triples!” Angela went right back to tending to Nicky. “What’s got you so worked up?”

Nicky kept sniffing and coke checking his nose. “The fucking FEDs, that’s what.” Angela had tried to tell those fucking FEDs. She told them that they didn’t have nobody in here. Nicky would find out. When the drinks came, Nicky downed his and asked for another. Angela’s kisses and cooing were a benefit to the drinks. Nicky started to notice Angela more. Her legs, her lips, her thighs.

Nicky watched her smiling at him, closed out his drink, and took her hand. “Upstairs.” She followed him, knowing that undressing was a bullet she couldn’t dodge. Coming into Nicky’s room above the restaurant meant that the FEDs couldn’t hear her through the interference in the walls. They were trying to get the audio feed back up.

“I’m getting in the shower. Be naked and ready when I get out.” He was already closing the bathroom door as he said it. She’d never stop with the Hail Mary’s if she got out of this one. She stripped, pulling cords and wires everywhere. She shoved them in her bag and it under the bed. She was naked when he came out in a towel. He smiled gently, dropping the towel. He kissed the inside of her ankles before he snatched her to him.

He slid inside her with a deep breath and a grunt when his cock fully landed. His hold on her ankles loosened as he slid his grip up her legs and tightened on the top of her thighs. Her back arched while his body slammed against hers. Nicky always was a good fuck.

Angela’s body started to shake and Nikky pinned down both of her wrists. He leaned down close to her face, “This is my pussy. It doesn’t belong to anybody else, especially not the FEDs.” Angela’s body was already squeezing and manipulating around Nicky’s cock. She couldn’t stop. “Nicky spat the words at her,” Come on, cum for me you dirty whore.”

And cum she did, right up until the moment that the electrical cord tightened just a little too much.  Nicky let her body slump back, flat against the bed. He put his pants on and hit a button on the phone.

“Hey, I need a couple of guys to deal with a thing. Ok. Yeah.” Nicky put his shirt on, buttoned up and looked at Angela’s body on the bed. He slid in one cufflink at a time and shook his head. It was sad. Angela always was a good fuck.
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Property’s Prospective

 Abduction, Anger, Beating, Dominance, e[lust], Emotional Pain, Emotions, Erotica, Fear, Fetish, Kink, Mind Fuck, Ownership, Property, Punishment, S/M, Sadism, The Property Series  38 Responses »
Oct 162013
 

He slung her across the quaint living room. She was received into his stone fireplace like a naked wrecking ball. Her fear was immeasurable. She was inside now, with him. Bruises, cuts, and much more were hushed by adrenalin.  Hyperventilation was never more than a moment away. She shook.

She wasn’t scared of the likelihood that she would forever be locked away in his mountain forest of snares. She was scared because there was no likelihood. Her new station was unequivocal. He would not have done this unless he was completely prepared. She was terrified because she believed him. No one would find her.

She’d suffered him before, but with slipped absolutes and excessive beatings. There was no closure to their prior relationship. She broke free of it. The mental abuse took longer to shake. Now she imagined him, limitless and with no accountability. It was fearfully inconceivable.

She saw a future of torture, masquerading as punishment and lessons. He had unlimited access to who he would decide to mold her into. Her silence was a mixture of how blindingly certain her fate was, and her slow descent into a hole of lost hope. His ability to destroy her mind was starting. She was afraid of it as much as the beatings. Once he was in her head, he was everywhere.  He would own every part of her. He wouldn’t let her go. She pleaded to God and Anyone Listening. He would kill her. He would destroy her mind.

He saw the harsh realization, even in her body. Her eyes became more vacant. She flinched at his touch. He wanted to comfort her. He didn’t want to go through a period of her hating him. He hoped he wouldn’t have to teach her about flinching again. Those were long, hard lessons for her. He hoped that she’d remember some of her time with him. He wanted her to be a good girl for him. She was always such a good girl, but she left him. She ran. They were going to deal with that punishment later.

He wrapped his arms around her. He needed to support her. He knew that she need to process this information and come to comprehend how it would change her future.

He tightened his arms around her. She was shaking. Absorbing the fear and reality, she finally started to cry. She whispered…

“Get the fuck off me.”

He punched her in the face.

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This Thing Of Ours

 Anger, Emotions, Know Yourself, Love, Non-Erotic Writing, Random, Relationships  No Responses »
Aug 222013
 

ListenA man named Johnny Red drove her to private school every day since she was old enough to go. They went in a big black car. She liked the way it shined and never put finger prints on it. Everyone usually went through a car line, but Johnny Red got to pull right up to the front door to drop her off, and he would always be there to pick her up.

She told Johnny Red all about her day, showed him her pictures, drawings. He drove and their conversations were jovial. She loved Johnny Red. He was her friend.

When she got home, she’d go to the kitchen for a snack with her Mother. Her Father would come from his office and praise her, their only child, for something as simple as an endless row of whatever letter of the alphabet her class happened to be working on at the time. Afterwards, her Father would go back to his office. He did his business in his office. She wasn’t allowed in her Father’s office.

She never knew a credit card, only stacks of cash, nice and straight, in large bills, wrapped carefully. She once told a schoolmate that her Father was a banker. The older she got, the more she heard about who her Family really was. All of her Family.This thing of ours. She heard terms and learned never to ask what they meant. The meaning would come in time, heartbreakingly. She began to get used to comings and goings in her home. Meetings. Exchanges. Who was a friend of who. Who was a friend of ours.

One of her final days as a student, she came out to greet Johnny Red and instead was met with a face she didn’t recognize. She stopped in her tracks and ran inside, screaming for her Father. He met her, rushing from his office. She was breathless and afraid, stumbling over how Johnny Red wasn’t at the car. Someone was inside the gates. She didn’t know him! Her Father hung his head and nodded, adding a comforting arm to her shoulders as he explained that Johnny Red wasn’t going to be around anymore. And how Salva was a friend of ours. He would take over for Johnny Red.

Years of unexplained attachment to her beloved driver rushed over her and released in tears and demands that she’d never made of anyone before, especially her Father. He grabbed her by both arms and gave her a shake, a jolt back to reality. Their reality. Johnny Red wasn’t a friend of ours anymore. Her heart sank and met her stomach on the way down. He had been someone’s work.

She didn’t want to be a friend of anyone’s.

No one should be a friend of hers.

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The Honest Answer to A Hometown Form Letter

 Anger, BDSM, Fetish, New To BDSM?, Random, Shit Gets On My Nerves  No Responses »
May 172013
 

 

standoff

Hi,

I know you’re new so I’m going to be blunt  from the start. Don’t send those same emails out to chicks in town and hope to get a bite from a few.

If you’re just looking to fuck, go ahead. Because your  your approach comes off straight-up AOL Chatroom, A/S/L and everything. Then again, some  girls are  looking for that, too.

If you’re really trying to learn about BDSM, if you’ve got some fetishes that you’re into, and you want to talk about them with other kinky people; you’ve found the right place.

One more thing, do us all a favor and if you really are just wanting to get laid, make it known. If  you talk  to a someone, and you see that they do want to learn and need some guidance, point her this way.

Please …just don’t fuck her up.

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There’s Always A Show

 Anger, Demons, Orphans  No Responses »
Apr 242013
 

You don’t have to pretend to even like the idea, but tolerance would have been nice.

To know that you tolerated her.

But you didn’t.

She’ll let that cook.

It’ll simmer till the rolling boil sets a hiss to the stove. And tears will flow like blood from a busted nose.

Then – She’ll  be tolerated.

She’ll be more than tolerated.

She’ll be heard. ~TSD

There’s always a show. You don’t always have tickets.~Unknown

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