Apr 132014
 

Tommy was taller than me by at least a foot. He was solid. He was thick. I felt the time he put in at the gym when he pressed against me. I didn’t want to pull away. My body had nowhere else to go, anyway. There was no safe zone. I couldn’t get around him. I didn’t want to. We were face-to-face. I had to pay up.

He gently referenced kink. He had my attention. He knew it. My playful banter and coy responses, brought about his warning. He was no one to tease. My stomach dropped and my pussy convulsed. I wanted to tease him. I wanted to test him.

He was a regular at the bar. He kept to himself, but gave way to coy flirting and witty backcap. He gave as good as he got. The innuendos were quiet, even with the loud background and my business with other patrons.  All of the witty repartee siphoned out his dominant side. He knew I had an obvious understanding, but had chosen to teeter on the bratty side. I did so from behind the bar. It was a safe zone, mentioned many times. It was part of our game. I could tell it excited him. It excited me.

When Tommy stayed for more than his usual three beers, we spoke more in-depth. He couldn’t adapt to a vanilla relationship. And no relationship adapted to him. He was taking a break for a while. He went to the gym. He went to work. He came to the bar. Happy hour was very happy for both of us.

Some of his words sent me dipping out of sight. Hidden behind the bar was an unused kitchen. It stored two big beer coolers and the liquor kept in stock. There was never time to rub one out at work. Someone was always fucking thirsty. It did provide enough privacy to regain mental footing, if only for a moment. It was becoming obvious to him what was sending me running for cover. It amused him. I never expected him to follow me.

But there he stood. Shock stole my tongue. I looked up at him. He looked straight down to me. He was stoic.  I considered nervously laughing off my surrender. But the atmosphere changed, and I didn’t have any more witty remarks. He leaned down and filled his hands with the back of my thighs. His fingertips gripped tightly just above the shredded line of my cut-offs. He lifted me with up with spread legs and leaned his weight against me and the beer cooler.

His lips were fat. I wanted to suck one. I tried to kiss him, but he pulled away. I looked up at him, instinctually; my face questioning what I thought was his hesitance. But I didn’t see him. He caught my mouth the instant before. Those lips that I wanted to taste were eating me whole.

It wasn’t romantic. It had nothing to do with what I wanted. This person was who he warned me about. He told me that he was no one to tease. There was no safety of the bar’s depth between them. Three beers today. Tommy wasn’t thirsty. Tommy was hungry.

The thick seam from my cut-off jeans rode up in between the plump outer lips of my pussy. Tommy’s handfuls were kneading their way up to my ass. I got his lip, for a moment. He let me have it. He nosed down and bit my nipple through my t-shirt. He could have it. I was cock hungry. He could have pushed the panties aside and slid right in. Time wouldn’t have allowed for it, but it’s what I wanted more than anything in that moment.

I dry humped him like a flat-backing whore. He came back up for my mouth. I sucked on his lip, just like I wanted to do his cock. Then I bit it. I bit it hard. He growled and I let go as his body tensed against mine. He went for my neck. He licked it. He slithered his tongue over my throat so that his teeth would have a slick place to land and sink in. I wanted to cum. He bit my neck. He bit it hard. I pulled at the back of his t-shirt when his teeth sank in. My cunt jerked and spat.

I was cock hungry.

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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.

Oct 012013
 

BitemarksShe 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.

 

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Jun 212013
 

parkinglotSince the last incident, she’d been behaving. But two weeks had passed and even the whispers and bets as to when the next one would happen weren’t really whispers anymore. He stood and called her into the office and shut the door. Each time he did, the possibilities excited her. It excited them too. The entire office watched their lamb to slaughter with froth on their lips. She could almost see it dripping down and joining with the stains left from their coffee cups.

They were more than voyeurs. Some of the more excitable ones felt as if they were taking part in it all. She’d never know how much all of this played into giving release to one man’s sad marriage, another’s inability to adapt to social situations, and the few other that used it just as fodder to drain their dicks. Many.  Many times over.

Generally she was called in to do secretarial work and if he felt like it, a blowjob. Although the last one had been more of a face-fucking, and more than she had been prepared for.

“Bend over the desk and remove your clothes so that I can get to your pussy. Spread your legs. Now. Now.”

She didn’t get her skirt thrown up over the back of her ass before he was in her. Hard. Her thighs slammed into the front of his desk and she yowled. He was constantly pounding her. His body bent her over. But he grabbed her hair. He pulled it and used it to ride her.  The harder he pounded; the harder he pulled; the more her legs spread. She climbed that desk. She banged her cunt back to meet him. She squirted on his cock and some papers that he was supposed to sign.  He yanked her down to swallow every drop and left her on the floor as he zipped up.

She put herself back together and picked up the office.  He spoke when she opened the door to leave.

“Meet me at my car after work”

She smiled. “Yes Sir.”

May 202013
 

Hold downHe came to the door. His knock is not the same.

And the horses are off.

In. Shut. Lock. Bed. Arm. Pin.

“You know how I found you? I followed your scent. I know every bit of you. It’s because I own every bit of you. You’re mine. Mine to do with. Mine. Can you understand that? Can you? I want to make sure. .. I need you to understand. Mine.”

He wasn’t sure what helped pave the way for his release, the freedom to speak to her that way, or the look on her face when he did. Her body language made his cock jump. And he knew; he should have done this the first time his wife asked him.

May 142013
 

Saturday night will be the last night that I’ll see two of of my most beloved friends in my local BDSM group. I’ve made and lost friends from this circle before, but I was never this sad. I was never, ever this sad.

B is a gay male dominant. I’ve been working with him on hitty stuff. Some rope. Our rope relationship is notorious, but the last time he did a cuff tie on me, he gave a snatch and an eyeball and – I saw a  flash of dom. He came out to play. Since then, our group became more serious with scenes. He and I were becoming a nice little co-topping team.

C is B’s gay submissive. He doesn’t like impact play. He does great in rope and wax, though. He was aftercare for everyone. Even when you didn’t notice it. That’s probably the most important job ….ever.

They’re going to the other side of the country for B’s job. They’ll be back in seven months. But part of me hopes they stay? Parts of me hopes they find something better and more fulfilling where they’re going. I hope they learn while they’re there. I hope they love it.

I’m gonna hate it.

May 062013
 

This is hosted material. For more information about the author, make sure that you read to the bottom of the page. Until then, here’s a piece of his work for you to enjoy.

The Life of a Diva…

I’m not saying she does it on purpose or anything… just…

Okay, look at it this way. Say you’re 21. You go to a house show. You and your friends try to meet wrestlers afterwards at the restaurant at the hotel next door. With very little luck scoring any autographs, not seeing John Cena or anyone you like, you spot Tamina having a steak and a beer.

Swallowing your initial fear at her masculinity (which is far greater than yours), you approach her, asking if you can have a photo or an autograph?
She stares at you, chewing… almost boring a hole through you with her eyes.
“Uhhmm… nevermind” you say.
“Sit down,” she almost yells. You comply. “How old are you?” to which you reply telling her you’re only 21.

She finishes her beer, grabs you by the shoulder as she stands and says “C’mon.”
Tamina, who looks so much like her famous father you can barely look her in the face, rides you so hard, you’re afraid your cock will break.
She spoons you all night, holding your junk in her massive hands. You wake in the morning, too early… 6AM.

Tamina is up and preparing her bags. She throws your clothes at you, yelling “Get the fuck up, it’s morning.” As you buckle your belt, she’s pushing you out the door, but she turns you around for one final kiss. She hands you forty dollars and shuts the door, never even asking your name.
While you walk back to your car, still parked behind the Civic Center, Tamina is crying to herself… softly…

About the Author:

Shaun Burnett, 32
Artist – Published professionally by Invest Comic’s One-and-Done Charity with Inflation.