May 27, 2009
Billy was Tony Fox's bitch. Billy thought he was the only one.
Billy wore a pair of black lace bikini panties, a matching garter belt, stockings, short skirt, and a sheer crop top. Using the mirror behind the well-stocked basement bar, he finished applying his make-up; painting his lips with the bright crimson lipstick Tony liked so well.
Turning to face him on the couch, Billy blushed. Tony was smiling at him with a mixture of self assuredness and lust. Tony knew that Billy was his. He was stroking his thick cock as he ordered Billy to lift up his skirt. Billy was hard, the head of his erection poking out the top of his panties.
"It's time for worship, bitch," Tony growled.
Billy sat down, smoothing out his skirt, trying to be the prettiest girl he could be for Tony. He leaned over to kiss Tony but he wasn't having it. Instead, Tony grabbed his head and forced him down onto Tony's cock. Billy took it, gladly. It filled his mouth and he began to work the head of it with his tongue, his lips locked around the rim.
Tony used a remote control to turn on the VCR. The flickering images drew Billy's eyes up to the images on screen and he almost choked on Tony's cock when he saw Michael from his advanced algebra class! There on screen was Michael, lifting up his skirt just as Billy had done. Michael was crying and Tony snapped a picture of him. It must have been Michael's first time with Tony; Billy remembered crying just like that the first time Tony had used him.
Billy felt a twinge of jealousy. He'd always had a secret crush on his classmate but never thought that Michael would ever swing that way. Now Billy was watching him with a mouth full of cock and wished that he was in Michael's mouth. Michael was pretty but Billy knew he's look prettier soon enough. Tony would remake Michael into the kind of girl Tony likes. Michael would have to start shaving his legs, learn how to apply his own make-up, and expand his wardrobe to include more sexy lingerie.
Billy began to fantasize what it would be like to suck Michael's cock. He began working Tony's massive tool with fervor. Tony rewarded him with a hot mouthload of cum which Billy swallowed greedily.
When he had recovered, Tony told Billy to "Get dressed and get out."
Feeling like a cheap whore, Billy asked, "What about tomorrow?"
"I'll let you know," Tony replied and, looking at the television he added, "I've got a new bitch to train."
Slipping on his jeans and jersey, Billy rubbed his still-hard cock. He knew that he wasn't jealous of Tony being served by Michael. Rather, Billy had longed for Michael before he even knew what kind of fun he could have with another man. Perhaps once Michael had gotten a good taste of lace, Billy could approach him and share his secret. He could almost feel Michael's hand on him...
The world exploded in a flash of white as Billy loosed his orgasm onto the tile of the changing area. He hadn't realized that he was touching himself enough to make himself cum. He panicked, wondering if Tony had heard him. When no inquiry came, Billy wiped up the floor, zipped up his pants, and left, hoping to come back to Tony's basement again soon.
May 19, 2009
His hand gripped my cock tightly. There was a slight element of pain there, but this was countered quickly with pleasure. When he held me this way my knees felt like they had gone liquid. I was powerless when he held me this way but, honestly, I was powerless whenever I was around him. I gave myself to him fully.
I would have had trouble standing had I not been lashed to the cross, my arms and legs akimbo. The leather cuffs held me fast to the wooden cross. He moved his hand from my cock back to my nipples, pinching them firmly. My cock jumped each time he squeezed on them. Making my body move always made him smile. I was his puppet, his puppy, his plaything.
He went to his tool chest and returns with what looks like a flat piece of leather covered in tiny silver spikes. It bends in his hands. He wraps it around my erection and a hundred tiny stings bite into my flesh from the purple head all the way down to the freshly shaved root. I began to shrink from the pain but he was having none of that. He began pinching my nipples again, causing me to swell and bring fresh hell to my cock; a confusing mixture of pleasure and pain.
He grabbed my chin, lifting it, and locked his eyes with mine. "Giving you pain brings me pleasure," he said, a wry smile on his face. "Understood?"
"Yes, Sir," I managed to squeak out. I felt a fresh wave of pain shoot through me as I got harder. He leaned into me, kissing me. I felt his tongue push into my mouth, the growth of stubble on his chin rubbing against mine. He kissed me roughly, deeply. I felt like I was going to combust, he's sending out waves of heat just as my own internal furnace is stoked by his passion.
Two years ago I never could have seen myself being in such an awkward position, especially with a man. I had never even contemplated what it would have been like to be with another man, much less to be his sexual submissive. But that was before I met Frank.
I was dating a woman, Julie, and she gingerly introduced me to Frank after a few months of dates. Frank was her ex but he was still a big part of her life. I could instantly see why. He was the most charismatic person I'd ever met. He was charming, well-spoken, and anyone's idea of handsome with his killer smile and dark good looks. Though I should have been threatened by him -- still being such a presence in my girlfriend's life -- it was she that should have been on the look out.
What I initially thought of as a gesture of friendship, Frank taking me out to a concert, could be seen now as our first date. Frank wowed me, and then he wooed me. Before I knew it, I was spending nearly every free hour with him. Our friendship was different than anything I'd ever had with another guy but I couldn't say why. I just knew I was a bit obsessed with him and didn't care a whit.
Frank was seductive but he didn't seduce me. Instead, I was the one to make the first move that would change our relationship forever. It was a summer camping trip last summer, a year after Frank and I first met, after we came back from a swim. Frank and I were changing from our wet swimsuits in the little trailer at our campsite. I caught a glimpse of him in his full naked glory. I don't know what possessed me; I'd never done anything like it before, but I moved closer to him as he was drying his back. I laid my hands on his shoulders, feeling the cold dampness over the warmth of his body. His smooth skin was of a different texture than any woman I had been with.
I don't know what kind of reaction I was expecting. Luckily, Frank gave me just the reaction I needed. He turned his head and smiled, as if he had been expecting this for quite some time. Throwing his towel down on his bunk, he turned fully, allowing me to see his sculpted chest, well-muscled legs, and quickly-hardening cock. I put my hand on his sex and was reminded of when I had accidentally touched an electric fence when I was a kid. I was paralyzed while electricity flowed through me. It felt like time stopped.
Frank didn't say a word. He let me make my own decisions. This was something I wanted on some level -- one that I had refused to acknowledge. As if it were second nature, I knelt before him and began kissing his cock, feeling the heat and hardness of it that strangely contrasted the inherent softness of his skin. He smelled like the lake; a raw earthy scent. I can never smell fresh water without being taken back to that day and feeling Frank's cock moving between my lips.
Though I didn't know exactly what I was doing, I tried to imitate the girls that had blown me as I now did the same to Frank. The appeal of sucking his cock was immediate; he reacted with each touch of my tongue. His breathing changed and his cock twitched as I wrapped my lips around him. I just took his head in my mouth at first. I loved the velvety softness of it. I let my tongue just swirl over the surface for a while before needing more of him in my mouth.
And it was a need. It felt like I had a void in me that only Frank could fill with this instrument. I stuffed my face full with him, desperate to get him all into me. This wasn't enough. I knew that I had to try something else.
I got up and laid back on Frank's bunk, inviting him onto me.
He fell upon me as if we'd always been lovers, his mouth meeting mine. his tongue entering me. Filling the whole where his cock had been. I sucked on his tongue as his hands found my wrists. He pinned my hands above my head as he used his knees to spread my legs. I pulled up my knees, wanting to feel his cock lay next to mine. Instead, Frank used his free hand to position himself at my virgin opening and, with only my saliva to lubricate us, he pushed into me.
I still contend that I blacked out for a few moments here. I'm not sure if it was from the pain I felt as he opened me to him or if it was just that the feelings were too intense. Whatever the cause, when I regained my senses I was experiencing a sensation that was at once completely foreign and completely natural. I never knew that I had a hole in my body, in my soul, that needed filling. Frank was filling me, he was taking me to places I had never dreamed existed. I looked up at him, seeing the look of lustful determination on his face as he made love to me. I also experienced a newfound sensation of complete helplessness as he held down my wrists with his strong hand. I didn't want to move, but I couldn't if I had. This feeling of giving myself over to him completely only enhanced how wonder it felt to feel him taking me.
Ever since that day, I've lived with that void. It's one that Frank fills quite often.
I told him how much I enjoyed the feeling of powerlessness that I experienced while he made love to me that first time. He was more than happy to continue exploring that and I soon found that I was doing whatever Frank wanted of me. I was his servant, his slave. He would constantly put me in stranger positions and scenarios and, though I was initially frightened, I enjoyed them on the same basic level. Each time I submitted to him, I felt awash in a comfort that only he could provide.
While his tongue explored my mouth, his hands moved to undo the restraints that held my hands in place. Once they were free, he moved to my ankles and released the clips that went from my cuffs to the hooks mounted on the cross. In my weakened state, it was difficult to remain standing. Frank knew this and he allowed me to collapse to my knees.
He put his hands on my shoulder and I knew what he wanted. I got on all fours, my spike-clad cock dangling between my knees.
Frank knelt behind me and I instinctively moved my shoulders lower, opening myself for him. I couldn't wait to feel him inside of me, pushing me into the sacred place where he allowed me to go. I was already halfway there via the pleasure/pain in my cock and all of the other sweet tortures Frank had inflicted upon me. His cock would be the final push, putting me into the world where pain was transformed into pure pleasure. Frank was an alchemist of sensation.
I felt the initial pressure of the head of his cock against my opening. I whined, wanting more. He gripped my hips firmly and sank his manhood into me. My gasp quickly turned to a moan. With him inside of me, I was complete. I felt every inch of him go deeply inside. I was panting for breath as he began to rock in and out of me, taking me hard, pulling me onto him with his strong hands.
Now the biting on my cock of the hundred spikes felt like a thousand kisses. He was taking me to our special place. It was just he and I, connected in the best way possible, acting as one living being, sharing everything, hiding nothing, building to an explosive conclusion like an exclamation mark on a run-on sentence!
I could feel him getting larger inside of me, as if his cock was taking over my body. Nary a second before it happened, I realized that I was reaching climax. I let loose my orgasm, the spiked leather giving my flesh a goodbye kiss as my cock began to retract from its full size. The shuddering of my body seemed to put Frank over the edge. He began pumping me full of his pleasure, shooting streams of cum into my depths as he let out a terrific cry. He drove himself as deep as he could and I felt his cock twitch and spit the last of his orgasm.
He reached under me and unbuttoned the leather sleeve, tsking when he saw that I had left my spunk on one end. I knew he meant this only in jest, though it gave him an excuse with which to punish me again. I welcomed any time he wanted to take me to task and allow me to serve him.
May 15, 2009
I get to be me again.
Emily welcomes me with a hug. The air is filled with music and the smell of dinner cooking.
"Your outfit is laid out. I think you'll enjoy it," Emily says with a pat to my bottom, sending me into her spare bedroom. There I find tonight's ensemble; a sheer white blouse, a red sweater vest, a short black skirt, a beautiful lacy bra with matching lace panties, stockings, garters, and black mary janes. It's the same thing Emily is wearing.
I shuck my boy clothes and begin dressing en femme with relish. As the soft material enveloped me, I feel a sense of tranquility flow through me. With each layer of female garments, my masculine armor falls away.
Walking confidently on my small heels back into Emily's living room, she looks up to see me and smiles. "There's my pretty girl," she says.
She tells me to do a twirl to show her how I look from every angle. I pose for her and she applauds. "Are you ready for more?" she asks, knowing the answer already.
Back in the spare bedroom -- "The girl's room" she calls it -- she has me sit at the make-up table where she helps strip me of more masculinity by feminizing my face, applying foundation, powder, and blush. Lip gloss, eyeliner, and mascara. With each stroke of her brushes, I feel my self-imposed oppression sweep away and revel in the the liberation of my true self.
Looking down at me, over the top of her cats eye glasses, she applies the last stroke of mascara. She steps back to allow me to see myself in the mirror. I'm gorgeous. I'm me.
"It's time to serve dinner," she says, gently kissing me on the forehead.
I follow her, walking confidently in my heels. She sits in the dining area while I don my apron and begin plating dinner. It looks and smells delicious. I soon find out it tastes the same.
We share our meal. I find myself holding myself differently; my pinkie extends while taking a drink, my voice is pitched higher with a gentle lilt. I enjoy seeing the traces of lipstick on my glass and feeling so demure. When I'm dressed this way, I feel smaller and more in touch with the world. Every movement sends ripples of sensation through me as if every nerve were amped up on adrenaline. I feel more alive than I've ever been.
She knows that I'm a maelstrom of emotions and sensations. She puts her hand over mine and I see that our nail polish matches. She leans over and kisses me. I feel our lipstick meet before I feel the warmth and pressure of her lips, the feel of her tongue slipping into my mouth.
She puts her other hand behind my head, pulling me closer, her tongue diving deeper. I suck on her tongue and she moans into my mouth. I'm always hers, but when she dresses me this way, my submission runs far more deeply. I am weak; I am her plaything.
She takes her hand off of mine, lifting it and placing it on her chest. I feel the swell of her breast under her sweater as she touches my leg. Her fingers on my stockings makes my heart jump and my "clitoris" swell. I close my eyes and let the sensations set me alight.
I'm being pulled out of the chair and placed on the kitchen floor. My knees go up and my legs are spread. My panties are pulled down and, with my skirt bunched up under me, I feel the cool linoleum on my bottom. My eyes open slightly. She's smiling down at me. She's got a tube in her hand and she's squirting its contents onto her fingers.
I feel her fingers at my entrance. Her smile turns wicked. She says, "I'm going to fuck your sweet pussy, little girl," as she pushes her fingers inside of me. Though I open easily to her, I still gasp as the sensation shoots through me. I see what's happening to me via the reflection in her glasses. She's got two fingers inside of me, moving them in and out with slow, deliberate care.
She pushes a third finger in to join the other two. I open to her, without reluctance. I am blooming like a morning flower.
I grunt as I watch her impale my pussy with a fourth finger. She continues to move her digits in and out of me. She cups her hand as much as she can and adds more lubrication to her palm. It flows into me.
Her mouth is set in a determined grin. She looks me in the eyes, smiling, and says, "I'm taking you all the way tonight." And, with that, I feel her thumb play around my entrance. She puts her left hand onto her elbow, steadying her right arm. She keeps her eyes locked on mine as she grunts with exertion and shoves the rest of her hand inside of me. I feel the bones of her hand pass through me, into me, and she's in me, fully. Her entire hand.
I am no longer myself in any way. I am part of her. I'm an extension of her body. I feel her fingers insinuate themselves when, suddenly, I feel pressure against my "G-Spot." She knows she's found it, from the feel of the walnut inside of me and the gasp I emit. She begins pushing her arm back and forth, in and out, stopping at her wrist before plunging deeper into me. She finishes each push with a special stroke against my tender gland, massaging me.
My clitty is so hard that I can see its outline against my panties. She uses just the tip of one of her fingers and massages me through my underwear. She smiles and whispers, "Let go. Let me take you where you need to go."
I lean my head back and just feel the sensations. She pushes against my prostate, finding a steady rhythm with my pulse. There is a pressure building somewhere, something unfamiliar, akin to the sensation of needing to urinate mixed with the slow pleasure of masturbation. What I know without question was that I no longer have any kind of control over my own body. I am just an extension of her. Her girl.
The pressure increased until I feel like I might wet myself. But, knowing that Emily knows what's best for me, I release myself from worry and soon find my body releasing itself as well. I start cumming. There isn't an orgasm so much as a feeling of completion followed by flooding my panties with warm, sticky cum.
I am drained like I've never been drained before. When I'm empty, she slowly, carefully removes her hand from inside of me. I feel a deep void within me and want to beg her to fill me again. As if hearing my thoughts, she places a bulb into me. It's tiny. But she quickly pumps a smaller bulb attached to it by a tube, she's inflating it, filling me again. This makes me happy.
She goes to the other room to wash her hands before coming back, smiling broadly. She stands over my head, allowing me to look up her skirt at her bare pussy. I love the gentle pout of her lips, the curve of her mons. I look at the slight growth of fuzzy fur on it as she lowers herself onto my open, waiting mouth.
I run my tongue inside of her, tasting her heady flavor. She moves forward, pushing herself against my nose, riding my face, my tongue moving in and out of her. She moans and clamps her thighs tightly around my head. I taste her deeply, the flavor changes with her excitement. It's richer, stronger.
She's riding my face harder. I can barely breath but wouldn't want her to stop for any reason. I belong her, beneath her, serving her.
The force of it startles and delights me. The world begins to swirl as I'm deprived of oxygen by her sex. She thrusts herself harder onto me. I hear the cartilage in my nose crackle from the pressure. She floods my mouth with her flavor. If I'm to die, it will be from sheer bliss as she finds pleasure from me.
She leans forward, allowing me to catch my breath. The air cools my sex-slick face. When she dismounts, she gasps at seeing that she's given me a nosebleed. She fetches a washrag and wipes me clean.
"You've been a good girl for me tonight," she says, still catching her breath. I know in my heart that she's right and I hope to always be a good girl for her.
May 14, 2009
I'm tickled pink that my story, Dinner and a Show, was chosen as one of this week's picks for Sugasm #165! Thanks to everyone who voted!
The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #166? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.
This Week’s Picks
Blame it on the al-al al-al al-al-co-hol
“My legs were now spread and he was in between them.”
Dinner and a Show
“Before it disappeared completely, I gave it a twist at the base, causing it to vibrate.”
Sugarbutch Star: Matt (part two) - All Five Senses
“She takes her lipstick out of her bag and uncaps it, twists it up and paints her mouth subtly, softly.”
Mr. Sugasm Himself
Sex Work And Honesty: Relationship Status
A Long Slow Seduction Continued…
May 5, 2009
Big thanks to Sugasm for including my story, The Games We Play, in this new batch of good smut!
The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #165? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.
This Week’s Picks
Confessional: Breaking the Girl
“And that’s why I’ll love it, that’s what will fuel me to dig deeper.”
Does Art imitate Life or Life Art?
“We were experimental and conventional and some times both in the same round of sex. ”
“And this is no sweet kissing”
Mr. Sugasm Himself
A Porn Customer Protests
Sex Work And Honesty: Fetish Fridays: Teabagging
Light Me Up Right