BDSM Archives - The Sin Doll

A New Technique

BDSM, Bondage, Meme, Meme's, Wicked Wednesday 11 Responses »

Oct 122014

I usually write erotica for Wicked Wednesday. When the words “Bad Sex” popped up on the screen, I shook my fist at the Gods of Honesty and gave into the fact that I was about to bust out the truth on a drunk Englishman. I’ve been dying to tell this story to someone, anyway. It might as well be the pervy people who read my blog.

1. I don’t judge. I don’t count your drinks. You do you.

Here’s the quick and dirty:

The bathroom was dark. The first room I walked into was barely even lit. I couldn’t tell that he was hammered. He used scarf-like ties to secure my wrists to either side of the towel stand in the bathroom. That was a disappointment. He was known to be a heavy player. I’m a heavy player. So the fucking scarf ties were all sensual and 50 Shades. Not my thing. I didn’t think it was his thing.

I wore heels. I’m 5’5, so almost 5’9. So here I am, strapped to this towel thing, above the toilet, and he comes at me with an Hitachi. Ohhh, I’m thinking I might get something out of this after all. The Drunk Englishman proceeds to tease me with it – between my left pussy lip and my inner thigh. Hmm. This is a new technique. Maybe this is just something he likes to do. It’s not really working on me, but, Ok.

Then he gets a little grind to it. And I realize… This drunk Englishman thinks he’s in my pussy. I don’t care how drunk you are, there is no clit on my leg. You can’t wish it. You can’t smoke anything that makes you think that it’s there.

Back to it.

So I’m trying not to laugh. And at that point, I still don’t know that’s he’s piss drunk. He’s holding his own quite well. I’m just wondering if this guy is really as bad at getting the sexy and kinky on. And he’s still grinding. What do I do? He’s NOT stopping. He’s determined to drill an orgasm out of leg. I’m trying to pull back and then squirm my pussy around ONTO the toy. NOPE, He wasn’t having it.

The ties are a joke. I’m holding on to the towel stand, hoping the ties don’t fall off. As a rule, I don’t fake orgasms, but I was debating using it as an exit strategy, considering the chafing.

2. Here’s my lesson (and thank GOD I learned it through humor and not horror.) – It’s your decision who you play with. The condition of people you play with is extremely important.

Feb 182014

They had contact with each other through the internet for years. They were friendly shoulders during personal times. They were comfortable enough to reveal sexual secrets. He liked administering spankings. She preferred the receiving end. She also preferred an initial conversation and sexual teasing during dinner at a nice restaurant; followed by the actual encounter and an expensive gift. It made her feel like a lovely whore.

They had met once, in her car. It was a hurried encounter. He was paranoid and all paws. She enjoyed his roaming hands and drooling compliments. She wanted more.

She walked in, spotted him, and dipped her chin to the hostess. She took her seat at the table and asked him if all the particulars were taken care of. He nodded nervously. She laughed softly and patted his thigh before picking up a menu.

She had the chicken. He had the salmon. The conversation of family, work, and kids flowed fluidly between them. None of what was said was new information, just updates. He’s trepidation was gone. Her touching and laughing was easy. She made it easy for him, too. The body contact was making him breathless. She felt his urgency to pay the check. They finished up and took to the room adjoining the hotel.

Entering the room before her, he turned, looking for approval. She smiled in assurance. He’d made good choices. Once she’d perched herself at the end of the bed, he brought her a tiny box, which she recognized by its light green color. It came from one of the tiny antique jewelry shops in Five Points. They were peridot, in silver settings. She couldn’t have been happier. She was squealing. He was beaming. She’d mentioned the stone a few times in conversation over the years. He knew it would be a ringer.

She wrapped her arms around him with a big kiss and a whole lot of tongue. He was immediately anxious to have her. She turned her back to him and asked that he unzip her. When she felt the heaviness of the zipper fall to her waist against the thin fabric of her dress, she turned around to face him.

His eyes drank in the scene. Unzipping her dress and watching as she turned to reveal her breasts. He ran the back of his fingers along the side of both tits. Her nipples tightened. “Uuhh, That feels good.” His eyes lifted to her face. She was squirmy. He grinned.

She turned from him and pealed her dress over her ass and surrendered it to the floor. She took two steps in front of him so that he could fully enjoy the site of her naked ass. Afterall, he paid for it.

His cock was strong and appreciative. She locked her knees and bent her elbows into the plush sheets of the bed. He pulled one of the chairs in the room over to the end of the bed. She felt his hands move up the backs of her thighs to her bottom. He slapped one of her ass cheeks and she arched back for him. He slapped her again, harder. He stood up behind her. She could feel his cock through his pants, between the cheeks of her ass. He turned to set on the bed. The slaps continued until her ass was hot.

Her pussy was wet and she needed to get off, “suck my cunt? I need to cum.”

He was more than willing, “fuck yes.”

They switched positions. She sat up at the end of the bed and he was on the floor, sucking cunt juice. She knew he secretly loved to eat pussy, but not be berated for it. He loved the smell of pussy on his face. He wanted to be surrounded by it. She leaned back and sighed as his tongue dug deep and made a mess on the both of them. He began sucking her clit and she pushed her pelvis against his face. Squeezing her thighs together and spreading them apart only spurred him on. Finally, her fingers found his hair. She lovingly ran her fingers through it. She whispered, “suck my cunt, Baby. Suck on my pussy.” She felt him prickle. She began to chuckle. They had fallen into an easy mode. They were comfortable enough to ask for what they wanted, and to tease. He stood up and looked at her, “You know I hate that.”

That didn’t stop her,”I couldn’t help it. You fucking make me horny. I feel like your whore.” She was watching him strip in haste as she cooed her filthy words.

“Come suck my dick.” His hand was a port for his enraged cock.

She began shaking her head, “I’ve already told you that I’m not sucking it unless you shave it. It’s not shaved. You don’t even trim it!” She’d seen pictures of his cock and his cum. During many a conversation that turned sexual they had both sent pictures and videos of themselves masturbating. She’d questioned his lack of shaving and he was adamant about his natural look. She’d never sucked a cock with that much hair. She expected a mouthful of pubes and her inability to overlook it and give a good blowjob.

She hesitantly motioned for him to come closer. She took her time inspecting his hairy cock. Despite the hair, his skin was smooth. She ran her closed lips up and down his shaft. She enjoyed the feel of it on her cheeks. His moaning alerted her to his urgency. She eased it in, rolling her tongue around the head. His hisses were an unmistakable sign that his balls were heavy. She drove her face down on his dick. Her saliva mixed with his hair. She almost gagged and pulled back. His hand was in her hair before she could come off of his cock. He pushed even more of his hairy dick inside her mouth and she let out a little squeak. He began to pump her face.

She could taste pubic hair, his engorged cock, and the precum leaking from it. She was irritated that he was face fucking her. Her cunt was on fire at the same time. Her hands massaged his heavy nut sacks. His thrusting deeper and deeper led to a goopy mess of cum and hair all down her throat, on her face, and even on her lips and dripping onto her breasts.

He was squeezing out what was left in his cock onto her tit while he laughed, “There’s a first time for everything.”

A BDSM Checklist

BDSM, Checklist, Fetish, Hard Limits, Know Yourself, Lifestyle, New To BDSM?, Other 1 Response »

Feb 072014

A checklist is extremely helpful to anyone involved in the BDSM community, especially those new to it. It’s simply a list of fetishes that you may or may not find interesting. With a good checklist, you can choose activities that you’ve tried and how much you liked or disliked an activity, usually based on a numeric scale. You can also rate each one as hard limits or soft limits.

You can exchange checklists with a potential play partner so that they have all of your desired play information. It’s a helpful way to kick off negotiations before you begin a scene.

The more you play and grow in the lifestyle, you may develop different feelings about what you’ve chosen on your checklist. Feel free to update it! The best checklist that I’ve found is at CEPE. It’s very thorough. You can download it. You can print it.

Feel free with the Q&A!

Sammy and the Gag – Rape Trigger

BDSM, Beating, Bondage, Dom, Fetish, Fucking, Gag, Kink, Masturbation, Rape Play, S/M, Trigger 1 Response »

Oct 292013

The initial request was for the room at the end of the hall, next to the heating and air. That was room 106. He spoke with the manager, made financial arrangements, and the room was theirs.

She arrived shortly after he did. Following unspoken orders, she stripped and proceeded to tighten the gag around the back of her head, tightly. It was a rule that she had to have her gag on her person at all times.

He turned up the T.V. for background noise. They barely noticed that the air-conditioning was out by the time they were focused on each other. The mingling of sweat, tears, and juices made the room smell like sex, and seem to be warmer in temperature for it. A cold shower cooled them both; and they were on their way.

Shortly after the guests of 106 had arrived, maintenance alerted management that the air-conditioning system for the entire wing was freezing up. The manager sent Sammy to turn the A/C down in every room down the wing, except 106, as it was occupied. When he got to 105, he made his way to the thermostat, but was stopped in his tracts by the sounds coming through the thin walls of the room next door. They had the T.V. on. That wasn’t what caught his attention.

Sammy heard the man’s voice speaking in a heavy tone. He heard the slapping of flesh against flesh. Even through the gag that Sammy was unaware of, he could still hear muffled cries of a female. His excitable cock sprung to life. He stumbled onto the bed and ripped it from his trousers. He shot his glistening load into a handful of tissues while listening to room 106.

A month went by before Sammy noticed that she had arrived before him. That never happened. She entered the room and Sammy asked another employee to watch the desk while he went to take a piss. He took off in a quick jog towards the direction of room 106. Sammy knocked on the door a few times. He could hear skittering inside.

“Management. Please open the door.”

She was already undressed and gagged. The knock completely threw her off. She was trying to unhook the back of her gag so she could at least get it down around her neck enough to peek out the door. She wrapped herself up in a towel.

She opened the door only a smidgen. Sammy jammed his foot inside and pushed right passed her. She immediately told him to get out. Sammy closed and locked the door behind him. He turned to her, her gag hanging from her neck. He’d wrestle away her towel, pin and gag her. He would enjoy fucking her for the ten minutes it took him to get off.

She screamed and huffed into a ball that would not hear any of it. Her cell phone was *dinging* with a message saying that He was going to be about twenty minutes late.

The Odd Family

BDSM, Biting, Dominance, Erotica, Meme, Meme's, Physical Dominance, Punishment, S/M, Wicked Wednesday 6 Responses »

Oct 012013

She belonged to both of them. Thomas owned her for two years prior to the decision to bring Brian into the relationship. Thomas and Brian were life-long friends and roommates. Having Brian living in the guest room of the large apartment was a natural fit. Although the two men’s relationship was purely platonic, they both shared similar interests in slaves. The decision to share the girl was an obvious one for the lot.

Thomas was Master. Thomas was thorough. He was detailed. He was a suit. He never missed anything. He was strict. He wanted her to meet his expectations. He wanted her to achieve goals that she’d set for herself inside and outside of the relationship. He pushed her when she needed to be pushed. He listened to her when she needed to speak. She laughed with him. She cried with him. They were hand in glove.

Brian was Sir. Brian led a cavalier lifestyle. He worked at a bar in the city at night. He spent hours at the gym during the day. He often benefitted from Thomas’ advice. He was spontaneous. He enjoyed her service.

Brian and Thomas both had different sexual needs. Thomas challenged her to give herself to him. She enjoyed his happiness. She loved being in his sexual service.

Brian was primal. He enjoyed her in an animalistic way. He wanted a game. He wanted her to fear him. He watched her during the day for any insignificant mistake, ones that Thomas would overlook as adjustments to day-today activity. Brian liked to take those puny missteps as sexual blackmail. She knew that there would be no consequences from Thomas. Brian savored in the mind fuck. Part of her enjoyed this. She didn’t understand why. She never purposely gave Brian an excuse.

On this day, she would be out all afternoon. The morning included daily laundry, a vacuum of the apartment, and the dishes. Diner was at seven. That gave her enough time to do the shopping and get back to prepare it.

She roamed from room to room, doing a supply checklist for the home. She’d need to make several unforeseen stops. This would affect her routine vastly. Around five she had the prudence to call Thomas and ask for an eight o’clock dinner.

He told her he was fine with that. There was an issue with a client and he hoped to be home by eleven. On the scarce occurrences that Thomas was not there for the seven o’clock meal, she left a plate in the fridge, but freshened it up when he arrived home.

He told her make sure that Brian was fine with it. She called Brian’s cell phone three times, every 15 minutes for a period of forty-five minutes. He did not answer. By default, she went with Thomas’ orders.

Her afternoon of late shopping was evident when Brian strolled into the kitchen and was met with counters topped full of groceries overflowing their bags. Evidence of all her trips, the bakery, the market, florists, the cleaners, all caught his attention. He was secretly impressed at her.

She popped up on the other side of the kitchen with a smile and an embellished sigh. He opened the refrigerator, grabbed a beer, and headed to the couch. “Yeah, your busy day is all over the kitchen.”

“I asked Master if it would be alright if we could change dinner to eight instead of seven. He said that he wouldn’t be home until late because of clients, so it would be fine, as long as it was ok with you. I tried your cell phone three times, Sir. Since I couldn’t get ahold of you I went with Master’s plan.”

“I was at the gym, and technically, no. You didn’t ask me.”

She had been nervously hopping about the kitchen, and putting things away until he spoke. She slowed and met him with silence. That moment gave him what he wanted. He would get more. Her voice was confessing an account and praying for justification.

She glanced at the clock. Seven –thirty-two. He stood up and finished his beer. He let the baseball game play on while he walked to the kitchen and grabbed her by the hair. He pulled her into his room. Her footfalls were frenzied.

He slammed the door, then her up against it. He began to strip himself as well her. With his own clothes, he dashed through. With her clothes, he treated them like wrapping paper on a present, threads ripped, zippers popped.

“You lied to your Master. You told him that you’d do as he said, as long as I gave you my permission. Three phone calls is not the same thing as my permission.”

“I asked Master….” Her voice and the excuse seemed paltry, but his hand was strong and forceful as it struck across her cheek.

“That’s not the same thing.”

Brian leaned in on her. He huffed up and down her neck and into her hair. She felt him growing against her.

He put both hands around the back of her neck and pulled her forehead to his lips. He kissed her in a gentle, loving way. Her body molded to his. He was warm. He had her sweet, unassuming submission. He treasured that.

He wanted her to fear him. Fortunately for him, he didn’t have far to go. He released her, edging her back with one large hand wrapped around her throat.

She wasn’t allowed to touch their hands, beg, or speak unless spoken to while in this position, unless given permission. His hand was as loose as it could be against her throat, so she knew that this was the beginning of the game.

“It’s hard not to crawl on you. Rip you to shreds. I have to leave you in decent shape. And of course I can’t just tell my best friend that I got carried away and damaged our girl.”

His jaw tightened with his fist around her throat. Her air was gone so fast, and the words she heard so harsh. Both caught her completely off guard.

He let her go completely and she fell like bricks to the ground, gasping and coughing. He chuckled, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He reached out and dragged her to him by her hair. He pulled her up between his legs. His fat dick was hanging in front of her, like a weapon of pride. His hand wrapped around her pained neck. His thumb rubbed out a perfect spot for his teeth. She would endure his animalistic biting until he broke the skin and her tears mixed with the blood. His teeth cut into her shoulders once her neck began bruising and swelling, blood running between teeth marks. It made it almost impossible to see where to attack next. Under her chin and even her cheeks had been purchased by the sharpness of his teeth.

She sobbed and begged for mercy, even tried to push him away. Brian held her close and decided only to allow her air when she displayed behavior acceptable to him.

“Now you’ve got a little fight, huh?”

Instead of a allowing her to answer, he slapped her. He loved the confusion he saw in her. He stood and went straight for his pile of discarded clothes. He came back with his belt.

She had taken the opportunity to move to the other side of the bed. There was nowhere to run from him. She couldn’t hide, and her face stung. However, fear and pain will do funny things to people.

He moved on top of his bed and simply looped the belt around her throat, pulling her up and onto the bed. He found her hiding place and his ability to hook her quite amusing.

“I’m going to choke the fuck out of you. Do you understand?” He smiled down to her.

She clawed at the belt. He loosened it so that she he could stuff his cock down her throat. Her tears and gagging originally came from him choking her, but now it was his dick that caused the pain from the inside. He held her face. He fucked her mouth until he reached the brink. He pulled out and let her head drop like a stone onto the bed.

“Roll over, I want your ass.”

He slapped her right ass cheek hard enough to rock her. She turned on him and shoved him, slapping against his chest as she screamed for him to stop. Every word spoken and turn to her body was a stinging reminder of the bites he had marked her with.

He’d allow for her arms to flail. He’d let her have her fight. He loved it when she thought she was going to get somewhere, and might have the hope of escape. His favorite part was crushing that hope. Each time he pinned an arm, or a leg, or grabbed a fistful of hair; he took that hope.

She knew that in the end, he always won. He acquiesced when it came to her fighting back, because he enjoyed it. When it was said and done, his cock ploughed through any hole he wanted. Part of her hated it, but she still screamed when he made her cum.

Killer Red Shoes

BDSM, Death, Erotica, Humiliation, Meme's, Wicked Wednesday 12 Responses »

Sep 152013

She met him online. He was in her area. They talked for weeks. He made her laugh. She felt comfortable with him. They spoke of fetishes; what they enjoyed and didn’t. When she brought up the topic of meeting, he was excited about it. They were very eager about meeting for dinner and the possibility of play afterwards. They wore grins the full week before.

The night of, she was running behind getting out of work. She probably wouldn’t be ready until the eleventh-hour. She’d decided on simple make-up, black dress, and killer red shoes. She would have to fly to the restaurant just to be late.

He was fifteen minutes early. He anxiously watched time tick by. At ten minutes after, he chalked that up to getting ready and minor delays, but he gave her a call that was automatically picked-up by her voicemail. Another 20 minutes and two phone calls to her voicemail went by. Three phone calls with no answer and thirty minutes late, and he knew that she’d bailed.

It’s always hard to find out a person you thought you knew, wasn’t that person at all. He knew that was always a possibility. That didn’t make it any better, or hurt any less. He paid for the drink’s he’d had and stopped to pick up his coat. When he hit the street he shivered at coolness of the air.

The flashing lights of the ambulance and police grabbed his attention. They were zipping a woman up a body bag. He grimaced and turned from the site, a pair of killer red shoes catching his attention before he could avert his eyes.

See who else is being wicked this Wednesday

Raw

BDSM, Emotions, Fetish, Hard Limits, I Feel, Kink, Meme, Meme's, Photos, Photos of TheSinDoll, Sinful Sunday 14 Responses »

Sep 142013

I want to wrench open the boundaries and let out the raw.

My Panties

BDSM, Fetish, I Feel, Meme, Meme's, Panties, Sultry Saturday 5 Responses »

Sep 122013

I have an entire drawer of sexy panties. I have panties bought for nasty things. I have the most wonderful, little, white panties that when I held them up to really look at them, I could imagine Daddy rolling them down my ass. I have some that are the perfect material that a little girl would want to feel her Daddy’s fingers through. I have thongs that are cute to wear during play in a dungeon. I have panties that frame out the sweet spots on my ass. Those seem to help the aim of newer spankers. I have some that are purple because those were a past Dom’s favorite color. The same with blue, but I couldn’t ever find many that were blue. Mostly black, and some pink. I like a little frill. I like red, too. Just not too much.

I’m not crazy about panties that have words on them. I’ve only got a few pairs of those. My favorite says “badass” across the ass. I guess I love that pair. I think they’re funny. I’m sure that a D-type, flipping up my skirt to find them, wouldn’t. I’d wear some with my favorite football team on them! I should look for a pair or five of those and put them on my wishlist.

I have panties that are worthless when it comes to teasing. They’re too thin to sop up any of my juices. I have panties that came back to me in shreds. I had panties that never came back. I have panties that I’m going to fit into any day now. I have some that I’m not ready to get rid of yet, like an old t-shirt from college. Most of them were bought to match a bra, which is why that drawer will barely shut, too.

Most of the time, these panties are only worn during certain, or special occasions, which is sad to me. But Monday I decided that I was going to wear them every day. I can wear a tight tank-top or t-shirt, but it has to show my panties. I can change panties throughout the day, if I want to, depending on my mood.

Monday was day one. I wore a pair of my favorites, a black, 50’s inspired, sheer front with frilly sides. They also showed a nice bit of ass cheek.

Tuesday I started with some pink cheeky shorts that dip low in the front, decorated with tiny, white stripes. Then I changed into my “badass” panties once TH and I started talking football. Yeah, I’m going to get some Alabama Football panties.

Wednesday was a black pair that says “Love Me” across the ass. They were cotton. And I stayed within my color regimen on those, going black, pink, and white. I paired them with a tight, pink t-shirt and a whole lot of sass.

I had fun just writing about this. Changing panties and looking at myself in the mirror brought about a sexier side of my day-to-day life. I was a little more excited about reaching up on tip-toes to dust, and bending over to get the laundry out of the dryer.

Tease

BDSM, Cock, Fingering, Meme, Meme's, Pussy, Teasing, Vibrators, Wicked Wednesday, Writing 9 Responses »

Sep 112013

I don’t know how many new pages I opened. I’m not sure of how many established pieces I have worked on since the “Tease” prompt went up. Thinking about what to write for this prompt has teased the fuck out of me.

I thought about writing possibilities and found myself knuckle-deep in my pussy. I imagined scenarios, and before I could finish them I’m rumbling away to G-spot heaven. I looked at my older work and even pictures for some guidance and have ridden cock to the point of not caring.

How hard was it for me to get down a well written piece that pushed me, one that wasn’t a cop out or fallback? I couldn’t. The entire thing was a big tease.

Drying Up

A Time Of Sin, BDSM, Emotions, Submission, Writing No Responses »

Sep 072013

I have a confession to make. There are sand dunes in my submission brain. I’m craving for a shot of D-type. I believe I’m going through some kind of submission withdrawals. I’ve not even let myself mentally release the last few times that I’ve played.

I’m topping in my local group, due to a serious lack of education. That’s not what I want to do. I’m a sadist. I’m not a D-type. It’s got my filter all off kilter. My writing has become darker. It’s less about logical BDSM relationships and more about the scarier side of life in general. You haven’t seen what sits, waiting to be worked on, and their levels of boundary-crossing afflictions.

I wonder if this is what happens when a submissive starts to dry up.

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