Discipline and Punishment…Long Distance

UGH – I hate long distance. I hate not being able to simply wake up next to John Patrick and begin my day by pleasing him. The ultimate waking up is bringing him coffee and juice, kissing him awake gently before a long body massage. I’m very tall (so is John Patrick) so standing over him and being able to give him a long, hot, wet blow job is certainly a treat for both of us. A shower follows where I can scrub his body, washing every delicious inch of him. After this – well does it really matter? Doesn’t this sound incredible? And yes, if I could I’d do this every day. You bet I kneelwould.

Sadly we aren’t able to do this and even the times we spent together are limited, often moving into more of a D/s scenario is tough. You can’t meet for an hour or so and have a disciplined dominant scenario. This is just not possible or feasible. For me, moving back and forth from the powerful and assertive woman in my business world to his submissive is difficult and my mind has a tough time wrapping around the behavioral change. I’ve blogged a little about this before. We created certain ‘bridges’ so to speak to allow my mind to think about him as my Sir more easily. One is a necklace that is a day collar and honestly, when I do reach up and run my fingers over the cool metal I feel closer to him. The symbol reminds me I belong to him.

The others are certain behaviors. I always light his cigarette. I always call him Sir when I meet him no matter where we meet (been waning at this a bit lately, much to his chagrin). He can touch me anywhere on my body at any time. These are just a few but I can tell you that sometimes I need more.

He keeps telling me lately that my big brain is overthinking, overanalyzing too many things. He’s right (as he usually is) about this. I tend to do this when I feel a loss of control in other areas and my life – including business and the vanilla world I live in – have some pretty hefty complications. And so I resort to being a girl. Quite frankly, he likes me better when I have more of the testosterone in me – and yes I do LOL. I like more guy things, know about buildings and cars, toilets and redoing bathrooms including pretty much the ability to use every tool out there. I had a father that treated me more like a son than my two brothers so I’m a lucky girl that way. That’s what John Patrick admires. Don’t get me wrong, he of course enjoys the fact I wear slinky items from Victoria’s Secret as well, but I’m beginning to wonder about other aspects. He teases me calling me a girl.

See, there’s my big brain working overtime again. I think women have a particularly difficult time separating aspects of relationships and for me, add in that we have a strong vanilla love, D/s and a limited schedule and you bet I over think things. Men tend to compartmentalize, have a much better ability to separate. For A lot more thanme, the lack of patience and the fact I really do thrive on his discipline, which I can’t have all the time – well, can you see and feel my angst?

I also realized recently that our relationship had/has gone so high that there were feel higher places we could go lest we burst into flames. John Patrick said he felt like we’d reached a plateau and I hate that word. LOATHE the word. Plateau means you come back down, right? No, the truth is a plateau means you even out, take time to embrace as well as understand what you have then set new parameters, perhaps in our case rules. He’s completely aware I excel with discipline, and yes I do mean when he whips me on a regular basis. I don’t know why other than the pain allows me to concentrate on one thing only, thereby giving me the ability to totally focus right then and there. The effect lasts for a few days so that’s the true benefit. But when weeks go by? Tough for both of us.

I don’t know how many of you practice a little discipline in your relationships but you can’t just whip out a belt anywhere at any time. This isn’t feasible either. When you’re trying to maintain a certain presence in work and the vanilla life around you, getting caught ain’t on the docket. Right now it’s going to be several weeks – several LONG weeks – until he can take the time to discipline me again. And so I’m already suffering mentally.

I’m not certain if other methods of discipline would help in truth. Some self spank – eh, not for me. Some have other rules like he could tell me to not use the Internet after ten at night – but what good is that when our connection sometimes is ONLY about the Internet? So you see the quandary, the big brain theory. I think for John Patrick, and I do hope he’ll respond to this, he hates not being able to be the Dom I need all the time. He also hates he can’t protect me but so much in my vanilla world. Logistics is a fucking bitch just like karma is. We use the mantra we enjoy all of the very limited time we have together and trust me, we do, but for a chick needing discipline? This is merely another UGH measure.

Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade what we share for anything, but I need to growMy Hands again as a woman and as his submissive and I’m my own worst enemy. Being reflective can help but honestly, for me, I just need to pull my own reins and regroup. Tougher than you might think. He’s a patient man and a nurturing Dom but… Just some rambling thoughts this morning as I drink coffee, look out on a gray day and wish I could spend the day with him doing nothing or everything. Oh yes and a heady round of discipline would be involved!!

Kisses and spanks…


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Treats Come in All Size Packages…

Now don’t they? I mentioned on Facebook yesterday that I have a wonderful anniversary this weekend – one that will forever remain dear to my heart. On a sunny Sunday before Labor Day, as I was sitting in my bathing suit outside, writing my little heart out, I had a suggestion by a good friend of mine – Carl Franklin – to consider turning in a book to a new publisher – Rebel Ink Press. Well, I’d been turned down by just about everyone for a little piece I loved so dearly and I was in one of those funks. I was even close enough with Ellora’s Cave to smell it with a wonderful editor who took me under her wing – thank you so much Grace!

I thought about it, made a Bloody Mary, then went ‘what the heck’. I polished the piece up for a tenth time and hit send. Lo and behold on Tuesday morning I had an acceptance letter in my little email in box. What a way to start off a week, huh? I can’t tell you what I’ve learned in the four years since I’ve been published and have so many people to thank including Elizabeth Carr, “E” as she’s affectionately known and the Rebel Ink Press team, Carl – who became my cover artist and is to this day, and to my fans for taking a chance. Since those glorious days I’ve also been published with Naughty Nights Press – thank you so much Gina Kinkade and new pieces coming out all the time, Secret Cravings for a fabulous holiday anthology and Blushing for another f/f anthology.

I’ve been exposed to some of the best people, and yes the worst. I’ve been allowed to be very creative with my many muses and am published as three different people. Yes,  Cass is the most wicked. I’ve been a blog talk radio show host for almost all the four years and I’ve developed so many fabulous friends. What can I say but thank you. The ride will continue, both with traditional and self pubbed pieces, and there were be some new ideas I’m going to bring to the table as well. So in honor, I thought you’d like to have a taste of my first piece EVER published. This one is a naughty desire of mine about my very own UPS man and the resemblance is well… Art imitating life as they say. All Romance E Books happens to have this tasty piece at a 30% rebate this weekend so pick up a copy and enjoy. Trust me, it’s hot…


Trista Rogers gazed out the window, watching the golden leaves drop to the ground in a whispered silence, and couldn’t help but smile. She loved the autumn season, the musky scent of the trees, the way the wind howled and the crisp feeling in the air. Shadowed light of the late afternoon danced in ghostly patterns across her lawn as she sipped her glass of cabernet and she realized it wasn’t yet five in the afternoon. Oh Black guy with long dreadswell. Who could blame her for a small glass of sin? Right? Chuckling to herself she thought about him. Him. Whew, the mere vision in her mind’s eye was enough to make her hot and bothered. Al Weatherby was due any time and she knew his schedule like the back of her hand. And damn if she didn’t long to know so many other things about the sexy man. Licking her lips she allowed her imagination to run wild, seeing his broad shoulders and carved chest standing in front of her. And then there was his cock. “Stop it,” she breathed. As if she could stop her raging hormones. Thinking about her latest work, Hot Sin, she allowed her imagination to run wild.

“Are you ready for me, hungry for me, Trista? Are you hot to have my cock buried deep inside your pussy?”

“Yes, God yes. I need you and want you,” she said through clenched teeth as she gazed up at him, her hunger raging out of control.

“Then suck me.”

Wasting no time she wrapped her hands around his cock, bring the tip to her mouth. Sliding her tongue back and forth the sensitive slit she savored the flavor of the man as she raked her nails up and down the length of his shaft. Cupping and squeezing his balls, she rolled the tender flesh between her fingers and moaned. She took his cockhead into her mouth, sucking the tip. There was nothing like the taste of a man.

“Yes!” Intertwining his fingers in her long locks he jutted his hips forward. “Suck me.”

“Whew,” she said as she licked her lips. The scene was hot enough and one she had to add to the book. Perfect. Giggling, she swished her hips back and forth. And the stunning piece was all about a chocolate-laced man. Darting a quick glance over at her desk she couldn’t help but smile. Other than her one vice, watching General Hospital with a slice of re-heated pizza in the middle of the day, she’d been productive as hell and writing six chapters in one sitting gave Trista reason to celebrate. Seeing the sexy mocha brown hunk of man would give her reason to hyperventilate. God, she was hungry for a thick dick.

Looking out the window, which offered her more than an adequate view of the comings and goings of her busy neighbors, Trista sighed. The holiday season hadn’t kicked in yet so there was no reason he’d be late. He was almost never late. Almost. She nibbled on her bottom lip and sat down in her chair, staring out the window and remembering the past few months with joy. He’d brought her all kinds of packages over the years, mostly items for her garden and a few sensational pieces of vintage clothing from selective Internet locations. But now most of the bundles were discrete, plain brown paper packages that enticed her naughty little mind and fueled her stories.

Trista giggled and wondered if Al had any idea what he was carrying in that large chocolate brown UPS truck of his. She shuddered as her pussy clenched just thinking about him and she felt a shimmer of a heated flush creep up her spine. Fanning her face she sighed, wondering how he’d be in bed. She closed her eyes and thought about the man, no, the heavenly sensation camouflaged as a six-foot-five-inch-carved-gorgeous-sexy-wrapped-in-perfection-type-of-man. He’d been her UPS driver for five years. Over the years they’d gotten close. Yeah right! As close as you can get with black man white woman 2hi, how are you, would you like a cold drink?” Trista couldn’t help but wonder if Al had any idea in the world that he was her secret fantasy. The rough-hewn hunk had fueled many of her erotically sensuous stories and kept her in large packages of batteries as well.

Absentmindedly, she fingered her rock hard nipple under her lacy bra. He was indeed perfection in a uniform. Blistering hot, Al was the kind of guy that a woman could easily dream about. Not only was he tall and well built, but his unusually long dark hair, ebony eyes and rich, spicy chocolate skin made her mouth water and her pussy tingle every time she saw him. Hell, she’d even ordered items she didn’t need just to get the chance to drool over him. Today the package was simply full of toys, ones she longed to have him use on her. Bad girl. You are such a bad girl. So what?

Trista turned to her latest story, which she affectionately titled Goodies Come in All Types of Packages, and giggled like a schoolgirl. Of course the story was about him and her naughty little thoughts about his sinfully sexy cock driving inside her tight, hot pussy somewhere in the middle of his huge brown truck. The vision of being stopped and the doors flapping open to reveal their tryst was never far from her mind. Her thoughts about fucking the man cowboy style were so wicked that her stories practically wrote themselves. Granted, the toys also helped create an erotic, scintillating atmosphere as well.

That’s one reason she had ordered nipple clamps and dildos, a larger ass plug and a couple of floggers barely a few days before. Oh yeah, Trista Rogers, world famous (at least in her mind) erotic writer had it bad for the stunning UPS man. The sound of the rumbling truck entering her cul-de-sac brought her out of fantasyland. “Oh my, there he is.” Inhaling deeply, she checked her slinky attire and smiled as she brushed her hand through her hair and then took a sip of her wine. The tight black skirt and soft fiery red cashmere sweater, showing just the swell of her ample breasts, was the perfect sizzling outfit to tempt Al. Yep, she looked hot. Giving herself a mental high five, she set her wine down in the kitchen, glided to the door in her four-inch heels and waited until she heard his boots land with a solid thud on her front deck.

Pursing her lips she threw open the door and pretended to be surprised. “Oh Al, sorry. I was just going to check the mail.” Not that she didn’t meet him at the door in such a sly way every once in a while, but on this particular day, Trista decided to kick up the heat with her attire and she could tell he was at least intrigued. The bulge in his pants was a dead give away.

“Ms. Rogers,” he said under his breath.

“Yes, Al? Did you bring me something delicious?”

“Well, perhaps.” Giving her a long once over he narrowed his eyes and then sighed.

Damn, if she couldn’t help but think about seeing the man naked. “Mmm… Good. I need some serious attention.”

“Attention, eh? I think you need many things.”

She fought a giggle and slipped her hand past the edge of her sweater, flicking her finger back and forth across her nipple and there was no doubt he noticed. Plucking TIABPW_CoverNEWthe bud between her fingers she shifted back and forth from foot to foot and purred, simply imagining his cock in her mouth. Was it very hot in the room?

Al Weatherby stood speechless, the look on his face holding shock, desire and something else entirely. His mouth gaped open and he glanced down the length of her, a tiny bubble forming between his lips. Blinking furiously, the box tumbled out of his hand and bounced onto the deck. Pop! He choked and jerked the small bundle back to his chest as he shook his head. “I’m sorry. Not usually so clumsy.”


It was fascinating how everything yummy seemed to come in plain brown wrapping. Indistinguishable. Just like the naughty little toys Trista Rogers ordered for research to enhance the writing of her erotic books. Treats almost always delivered by her fantasy lover in chocolate brown – the UPS man. The dark cocoa hunk, Al Weatherby, had been on her hit list since he’d taken over her route several months before. The man filled more than one night of her raging fantasies. Sometimes she ordered from the Internet just to tease him with her long red hair, creamy skin and perfectly selected clothes. Sadly, she’d never tried anything with him. Until one blustery fall day. Asking Al inside for a frosty drink, the afternoon quickly turned passionate. As sparks flew they both knew they wanted more. Or did they?

After planning a sinfully delicious event, another driver appeared in Al’s place. Devastated, Trista had no idea what happened and she grew incensed, promising never to allow UPS to deliver again. Fortunately Trista quickly learned that the best surprises came in six foot something discrete brown boxes.

But Al had everything under control, including just how to handle the feisty woman. Complete with his own special basket of toys to help her with research, copious rounds of hot sex, a little voyeurism, and bodacious amounts of experimentation ensue.

So what do you think? A tasty treat? I hope you enjoyed.

Kisses and spanks…




Deliveries will never be the same again.


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Sexual Sin…Personal Slave Auction IV

Ten thousand dollars. Would you consider the amount decent pay for two hours of work? Is there any amount of money you’d exchange for sharing time with another Dom? As a Dom, would you barter your submissive for another – even for a period of time? Don’t blush or run away. This activity is engaged in by some M/s couples. There are clubs in which the women are shown off, paraded in front of other Dom’s in an effort to “sell” them to the highest bidder. Yes, this is a completely consensual environment and the slave is well aware of her role in the playtime. I’ve read about occurrences in many environments, especially in other countries where sex of every Good Girl - No Pantiestype is sold as window dressing.

If you’ve ever seen or read anything about Amsterdam, the city relishes in its sexual proclivities. Streets are lined with main street stores, models as storefront mannequins in skimpy clothes or nothing at all offering companionship of every kind. How about sex clubs where fantasies are played out are favorites and auctions? Well, they are both a male and female event to participate in – on both sides.

Imagine a kink club that caters to auctioning off men and women to the highest bidder. Pretty out there but it’s a huge fantasy and while some readers don’t like to admit they are turned on by the concept, by the fact the books fly off the shelf, there’s obvious reasons to write them. People are interested in the going beyond vanilla sex into a realm where everything is offered on a silver platter. John Patrick and I talk about everything and this topic is perplexing, something discussed over several glasses of wine. The topic has certainly brought about good and bad points and I’m neither condoning nor denying the attraction, merely giving you a rather dark side of the kink world.

The flash fiction piece is extreme of course and as I mentioned in earlier blogs, the concept for the story is based on a single experience shared with John Patrick. When he read the last blog he simply said, “well that was interesting”. Now I don’t know about you, but generally when someone calls an experience, story, movie etc. ‘interesting’, the connotation is dislike. What I realized after we talked is that the comments made in the story from Dom Gregory are very similar to an email I received, one that bothered John Patrick quite a bit. He’s a practical man, his worlds compartmentalized. He’s also sensitive and sensual, highly intelligent and takes my safety and well-being to heart. He was incensed as to the answers the Dom gave me as opposed to the ones that he received. Vastly different.

For Dom’s (or possessive men in general), having another strong male usurp his authority in any fashion is not only reprehensible, but in the D/s environment, considered disrespect. Reading my fictional story brought back bile that continues to form in his mouth? Why? Not just because of the words the Dom said to me, but the fact he was trying to play me again my Sir. You just don’t do that. The exercise has been pushed to a point and honestly I don’t think John Patrick would every entertain something of this nature. Of course there are various reasons why in conventional terms this isn’t a good idea. Respect is utmost as well as trust and for couples that allow any interaction in such a manner, all parties have to be completely above board.

I’ve heard from a few authors as well as those living the lifestyle that comment while the concept is very exciting, they are hesitant to venture into something this deep. I can understand. The story has been interesting to write merely because the subject is very taboo – think borderline prostitution – controversial and life altering as well. After several discussions with John Patrick this is mostly likely a closed chapter – at least for now. Just not for us, but for others as long as you’re willing participants, perhaps a rather sinful treat. I merely caution you to really talk about your desires. Back to the story.

“Plans have changed,” Michael said as he brushed his fingers down the back of Ashley’s neck. Dragging the tips over her shoulder to her cheek, he traced a circle around her ruby stained lips then lowered his head. The scent of her was intoxicating Red and Cuffstonight in particular. “You look amazing.” There was something primal about his emotions, raw and definitely possessive. Seeing her in a scathing hot pink dress, the color so vibrant she almost glowed, brought out his beastly instincts.

“What do you mean changed? I thought I was here for a spanking then we were going out.” Ashley asked as she closed her eyes. “You like the dress?”

“Perfect.” Too perfect. He thought about the meeting, the agreement and groaned inwardly. None of this he liked. “The spanking is still going to occur. You’re completely unfocused, in need of being reined in. The rest of the details are going to change.” Yes, she needed a heady round of discipline. Yes, he was in need to punishing her, inflicting pain. The thought and the somewhat ugly realization had hit him square in the face, especially given what the asshole had insinuated.

You don’t know her, understand her needs. You’re only window dressing for a woman who needs a true Master. Trust me. I am that man.

Dear God he was pissed off. Uncertainness remained hovering in the back of his mind, ugliness about certain truths he didn’t want to face.

“I wanted to surprise you. You know how I am.” This time her look was mischievous.

“You want to keep your sir guessing?” Michael slid a single finger between her breasts, toying with her shimmering skin. Her nipples were erect, the hard buds pushing through the thin material of her dress. She was as turned on as he was and she had no idea what the night held in store for either of them.

Purring, she opened her eyes and wrapped her hand around his forearm. “I like to keep you guessing.”

He chuckled and took a step back. “Yes, the plans have changed. We have a meeting tonight before dinner. Drinks.”

“A meeting?” Ashley clucked her jaw, her eyes darting back and froth. “Hmmmm… Am I allowed to ask with whom?”

“Your Dom friend.” He’d debated telling her and he wasn’t certain why. Doubts about the entire exercise remained furrowing in the back of his mind, the odd words stewing in the back of his mind all day. He and Dom Gregory had exchanged two additional passages and it was clear to Michael the man was toying with him. While he had a suspicion the supposed Dom certainly hungered for his Ashley, he had no real desire to share her with the pompous freak. Unfortunately a gentleman’s deal had been made. Ten thousand dollars for two hours. Two hours of what the fuck?

Her eyes reflected surprise. After a few seconds she looked down, her fists clenching. “Why?”

“We’ve talked about this.”

“Not to this point,” she challenged. “I have mixed feelings about the entire situation. I thought you didn’t like him anyway.”

“We’re just meeting for a drink, nothing more. We don’t know the man. I thought you wanted to take things a step further, explore options.” Michael slid his hand into the bodice of her dress, flicking his finger back and forth across her nipple. While she moaned he could easily tell she was disturbed. Of course he realized she wanted exclusivity, the vanilla side of the girl remaining strong.

“A drink. You know, the truth is I like being wanted, who the hell wouldn’t, but there’s something off about him, something bizarre.” Her body language screamed tense, unhappiness.

Michael wasn’t entirely certain what to say. He was her Dom. He was her lover. He was her protector. Maybe he was an asshole for even considering the concept. Sighing, he pulled her close, kissing her lips. There would always be a deep seeded hunger in him, a need to consume her, possess her. “I think we should have some wine right now. We’ll be there for an hour tops. Nothing more. If we don’t like the dude or get bad vibes then that’s the end of our conversation. Okay?”

“Yes.” A quick smile crossed her face. “I mean yes sir. Would you like for me to get us a glass?”

He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “I would very much.” When she nodded and started to pull away he gripped her arms. “You need to remember always you’re my submissive, the woman I love. Nothing will change the fact.” Her eyes remained haunted, the light that always transmitted in glimmers of her soul was dulled he pulled her into a bear hug. There were no words to be said. While they’d talked about sharing, adding a third to their relationship, he was well aware she remained conscientiously cautious.

“Yes sir.”

When she said nothing else he let her go. “A glass of wine will taste amazing.”

“Yes.” Ashley hesitated briefly and gave him a look before moving toward his kitchen.

He was surprised how much the meeting with good ole Dom Gregory was affecting him. Of course men hungered for her, making certain she was well aware of their desires, but this was…different. Blatant words were telling. Dom Gregory wanted much more. And so he seethed.

Walking toward his computer he wanted to make certain he remembered exactly what the man had said to him, before and after the ridiculous sum had been placed on the table. As he pulled up his FetLife account, scrolling to the already read messages, his heart raced. This was ridiculous. A game being played by a man who thought he could win. There were so many reasons he wanted, no needed to pull back, remove both of them from what he now considered a ridiculous game.

He walked toward the bank of French doors, looking out at his expansive landscaping,Rillful and for a few minutes he thought about nothing but the fact he was having such difficulty expressing his feelings to her. Why? Of course he had thoughts but Ashley wasn’t for sale. Shoving his hands into his pockets he played over the email several times. There would never be a moment he could tolerate such bullshit.


Hearing her voice, the way the single word expressed such angst, reminded him he had to take control. “Wine.” As she handed him a glass, his thoughts shifted to several ‘what ‘if’ scenarios.

“Why?” Ashley held the glass in her hand yet every part of her was shaking. “Why in the hell would you want to share me this way?”

“I didn’t say I wanted to share you.”

“But this…this bullshit speaks otherwise.” Hissing, she pressed the back of her hand across her mouth.

“You can tell me anything. What’s wrong? What are you feeling?”


Michael looked away. How could he express the way he was feeling, the deep seeded concern roaring through every cell in his body? “This is a single meeting. We’ve talked about sharing before. We’ve discussed growing, considering some options.”

“Options? Yes. This…I don’t know. I have no idea if I can handle or if you can handle either. There’s a lot to think about.”

“Time.” Hell yeah there was a lot to think about.


The look on Ashley’s face was one of contempt. “You don’t seem to understand.”

“Talk to me. I know you’re hurting. I understand the trust level you have with men is abysmal. I’m not most men. I respect you always first and foremost. You’re the single woman I can be myself with and I value your thoughts and opinions. Trust me. That’s all I’m asking you.”

“You all say that.”

“And you know me.” Tipping his head back he snarled, cognizant of his increasing fury. What was she getting at? Why did she doubt him now, of all times? He realized things had been strained with them lately, the tension increasing. They’d both been going through some issues both together and apart. This is a bad idea. Yes, it was. “Let’s go outside for a little bit.”

Nodding, Ashley gave him an uncertain look before moving toward the sliding glass doors. When they were outside she moved to the railing, staring at the yard and drinking her wine. She also remained quiet, contemplative.

Michael eased into the chair and toyed with his glass. Studying her was always of interest to him. He could tell what moods she was in by the way she texted, the change in her word pattern. He could also tell by her body language and tonight she was in turmoil. Shuffling in his pocket he pulled out his box of cigarettes and could tell from the slight sideways glance she knew what he was doing. Normally her reaction would be very quick, wanting nothing more than to please him in the little Submissives Sentimentsways. Goddamn she wasn’t certain what to think.

Hesitating, she looked down before walking toward him and reaching out. “Sir.” Grabbing his lighter she flicked the tab several times before achieving a flame. Her eyes never left his. Immediately she set the lighter down on the small table beside him and walked away.

After taking a long drag he rubbed his eyes. This was an exercise in futility. She was pissed off. He was off the chain. Somehow the asshole had the upper hand.

They remained in silence for several minutes. She didn’t say a word or turn to face him, merely sipped her wine. Even without so much as a sound being made he could tell she was crying. Sighing, he slid his empty glass onto the table and adjusted the chair. The sound of metal scraping against the Trex decking grabbed her attention. When she finally looked in his direction he patted his lap. “Let’s do this.”


“Yes. You need to let go, release. You’re very emotional.” She was very angry, pissed at him. Of that there was no doubt. Maybe he needed this just as much as she did.

“Yes sir.” Her hand was shaking, her walk slow, and when she closed the distance she smiled, yet a single tear slid down her face.

For Michael the salty bead was heartbreaking.

Well, what do you think? Not certain if I’m going to continue this or not. I have mixed personal feelings in truth for some very intimate reasons. The subject is troublesome in many ways with John Patrick and I and in truth, since the occurrence happened I see an odd difference in our relationship, one I don’t like. I suppose its called growing pains but I’ve been a bit teary eyed myself. Maybe just odd timing or too much going on but this one bothers me. We shall see. Let me know what you think and if you’d like to see me finish this.

Kisses and spanks…


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Sexual Sin…Personal Slave Auction III

I have a question for the guys. What if several men hungered for your lady? Would you feel pride and joy, snicker a little knowing you have a hottie, or would you long to punch them out, take them down if they even consider laying a finger on your babe? Hmmm… If you really stop and think, this is a daunting kind of question. Don’t you think? In the ongoing concept of sharing, John Patrick and I have had some pretty intense discussions. What we both realized is that he doesn’t like to share – AT ALL. He’s admitted to me since the beginning he’s extremely possessive. While we tease Slaveand I talk a hell of a lot about cabana boys doing my bidding, he not only can’t tolerate the concept of me with another man, he’s gone as far as to forbid.

Now me being me, I honestly love the fact he feels this way. Yes, he’s my Dom and I will follow his guidelines and rules, but what a thrill to know my Sir is this kind of possessive. I have a friend both John Patrick and I call mm (Minnie Me) given her ballsy attitude and the fact she’s a hell of a lot shorter than me – but she’d VERY much like me. Folks in our office can barely deal with the two of us together. She and I are like two peas and she teases me all the time that he’s going to have me get rid of certain profiles like Fet Life and the one where we met. Well…he does seem to dislike the one in which we met. Hmmm… I wonder why?

When we both realized these men on Fet Life were serious we laughed, had a few glasses of wine, laughed again then kind went ‘really’? The night we realized this we weren’t together but another night we were. As the rain fell and we sat outside drinking wine, we moved into one of our deepest conversations to date. While we didn’t come to any conclusions or honestly figure out how to deal with two particularly interesting emails John Patrick received, we were forced to seriously talk about our polyamory ideas. Neither John Patrick nor I really can grasp the understanding as of yet and why? Because we have our two sides, one is very vanilla in our love and simply desire to enjoy each other. Wine and talking, making dinner and deck time are our favorites. Then we have another side, one in which I want to share the joy of what we have with another.

Lots to think about with this and not trying to get into the morality of what our decision might be, but the slave auction occurrence truly made us face our what ifs and perhaps the inner concerns. He read me the actual emails and I must say they were very interesting. One in particular was pushy enough the message prompted John Patrick to let him know in no uncertain terms what he wouldn’t tolerate. The email in return? WHEW is all I can say. Men take the women they ‘own’ very seriously. So this story highlights the concept and all the extenuating circumstances if something were to happen. Hmmm… Back to the story…

I’m your little whore, your slut to play with. Use. Fuck me. Whip me. Shivering, Ashley’s nipples hardened just thinking about the last two nights, kinky and passionate and wild and… Michael had been on fire, taking her to entirely new heights of pleasure. She brushed a stray strand of hair from her face and moved toward the entrance of her office, shutting the door with a soft click. Waking up with him in his bed, bringing him coffee and rubbing his back was incredible. The morning ritual of performing a long, wet blowjob she looked forward to every time. Washing his back in the shower, drying him off with a soft, fluffy towel, was just about as romantic as she could imagine.

Now she was tingling, beads of perspiration trickling down the back of her neck. Leaning against the cool wood of the door, she grinned as she brushed the tips of her fingers down the front of her neck, dipping into her damp blouse. She fanned her flushed face and smiled. Thinking about the man, his powerful demeanor and very commanding authority, was enough to make her pussy clench. Her thoughts drifted to the discussion about the slave auction. Without a doubt she was surprised at the number of men who seemed to be serious about wanting her, perhaps sharing her His Power to Destroywith Michael. Sharing another woman had been a topic of discussion for months, but a man? There couldn’t be any way he’d be comfortable enough to share her with another man, especially one who considers himself a Dom. And for money?

As Michael said, if a man was willing to pay even a thousand dollars for her time and Michael would be in the room at all times? Well… She swallowed hard. Sex wasn’t on the table. No. No, her Sir had been adamant but something else? Whipping? Sucking cock? Groaning, she closed her eyes, several visions far too vivid to stomach. Wild child she could be, but playing with men she didn’t know and in Michael’s presence? Her big brain was working overtime. The men were probably just humoring her, wanting nothing more than to mention her picture in a festive manner. And to think there was zero nudity involved. Okay, so she was smiling. Moving toward her test she gripped the edge, longing for so many sinful treats. The moment she sat down she heard the buzz, then the chime.


Damn the freaking cell phone. The sounds of incoming emails and likes on various sites had been going off all day, but she knew which particular social media site was the biggest culprit.

Ashley knew she was playing with fire. There was no discounting the truth. As she swiveled her office chair, trying her best to concentrate on the document in front of her, she couldn’t stop glaring at her phone. The ‘push’ effect of the iPhone quite frankly might drive her insane. In the last two hours alone she’d received no less than thirteen notifications. Fet Life was calling her name. She chuckled as she resisted finding out by reading every blazing email. Her Sir certainly didn’t want her interacting with a Dom without his knowledge. She tapped her keyboard, bringing up the contract she needed to work on. A full five minutes later she took a swig of her coffee, realizing she had no energy and zero drive. Thoughts about two nights before, the incredible round of sex, filtered into her mind. She wiggled in her seat and laughed, the pain of her whipping reminding her of her place as well as how insatiable she was around him. Tonight was another glorious night together. Dinner out then…


“Damn it.” Slapping her hand down on her desk she growled, tossed her pen and pushed her phone away. The sinful visions fissured away. She dropped her head into her hands and had to wonder why she’d posted the picture in the first place. What if Michael wanted her with another man? Somehow she couldn’t imagine. He’d been pretty clear about his most basic of desires – another female. After another blip she flipped the ringer to silent. Daydreaming would have to wait. She guzzled the rest of her coffee, tossed the paper cup into the trash and settled in to work.

A few seconds later, she could no longer resist. After glancing at her office door she couldn’t resist and grabbed her phone, punching the screen as if there was no tomorrow. As soon as she connected to Fet Life and waited until the email portioned opened, she was taken aback. The first email made her smile. The admirer certainly wanted her Sir to allow a taste, but in a very unconventional way. “Interesting.” Cooking and dancing while completely naked and even allowing her Sir to watch – well how fascinating. Several had contacted her directly. Guess the men weren’t very good at following directions, now were they?

The second email was lovely but rather benign, but she had a feeling the third was A single touchsomething else entirely. Ashley clicked to the email from Dom Gregory and while her smile remained initially, she snarled after reading the bullshit the man sent. “Amazing. Fucking amazing.”

I wrote your Sir back a few minutes ago, and frankly indicated my reluctance to do anything with the two of you at this time. The problem is that his entire note basically talked about the things I would not be allowed to do with you. Sadly, there was not one single word about what was allowed, or could be done. I frankly find is lack of imagination and courtesy unacceptable at this time, and have indicated it back to him.

Perhaps he will grow an imagination and understand that this is about more than just being possessive about what is offered. For your sake and enlightenment, I hope so. If he’s willing, I’d like to meet in person at a destination of his choosing to continue any and all discussions. That is, if he is so inclined to take a chance. That will certainly allow me to answer his pointed question about what I want, however I have a feeling he’ll merely be too threatened. Please extend my offer.

“You fucking prick.” Blinking several times Ashley laughed then pushed her chair back with enough force she hit the window ledge. There was no way to describe the fury rushing to the surface. Enraged, she read the email again and there were so many wretched things that came to her mind. She reared back and pushed away from her desk, longing for a tall screwdriver and perhaps a moment alone with the jerk off. How fucking dare he? The ugly words reverberated in the back of her mind and of course she realized the supposed Dom was goading her. She had the distinct feeling he’d responded entirely differently to Michael. The man was using her to goad her Sir.

“Two can play at this game, buddy.”

Sniffing, she pressed the back of her hand over her mouth. He’d used the word ‘depraved’ with her the night before over an instant message, pushing her into admitting she needed more than what he called a simple Dom could give her. As if the weirdo hermit could offer anything that she needed. A cold shiver trickled down the back of her neck, cascading to her butt bone. The guy had always managed to see past her mask, the slight bravado she continued to wear.

For a few seconds she contemplated what, if anything, she was going to say. Several choice words and phrases came to mind. Instead of lashing out she decided to push his buttons.

Interesting offer. I’m surprised you wouldn’t have the courage or respect to extend your offer to him directly. Then again, hiding is easier and much more practical. My Sir has quite of imagination but as you must realize, he also has care with regards to my safety – which comes first and foremost in his mind. For that I’m grateful. There are far too many nutcases out there and he’s one of the few men I trust and can count on. Period. He is certainly going to tell you what’s off the table so as to allow you to ascertain his expectations. Of that I’d believe you to find helpful as well as respectful. I’ll certainly mention your request, but I assure you, my Sir will be the one to respond.

She wavered for merely two seconds before hitting send. “Take that, you asshole.” Now a bigger decision – to text or not to text Michael, let him know she’d been contacted.

Sir, the Dom dude sent me an email. Freaking asshole.

Well, at least she’d said something. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. She wanted Michael to know, but then again, she’d started this ridiculous raucous. Maybe she should end it. No, that wasn’t the correct submissive thing to do.

And what did he say? Asshole? Michael’s question came almost a full three minutes later.

Sighing, she could answer in one of two ways. “Ugh.” No matter what she said to Michael, no matter how she paraphrased the two paragraphs, there was no way he’d take the email as any other way than its intent. Dom Gregory was drawing a line insubmitting in red the sand. If there was anything she knew about her sexy and dark Dom, he didn’t like a challenge by another man.

She bit her lip then knew she didn’t have a choice.

Well, I don’t think you’re going to like what he has to say and honestly, I think you should read for yourself. Do you still have my password? Cringing the moment she hit send she leaned over her desk, doing her best not to vomit.

Hmmm… Yes.



Michael sat back, reading and re-reading the email. The way Dom Gregory had answered him was entirely different than the haughty bunch of bullshit the man had piled on thick. Seething, he sat back and read the paragraphs a second time before looking up the man’s profile. From what he could tell Dom Gregory was nothing special. An odd looking man, he seemed to be hiding in his own shadows. Yes, his likes were dark, what some would consider vile in nature. He was obviously very much into pain, methods bordering on torture.

What the hell should he do with this? So he wanted to play, to see what Michael was made of. While he certainly wasn’t in a habit of giving into bullies, his curiosity was piqued. Was this simply a little man hiding behind his on line personality or would Dom Gregory step up to the plate when necessary in order to get what he wanted? There was no doubt what the man wanted.


Biting back a snarl he jerked up from his desk, contemplating how to answer, and in truth what he wanted to do in general. There was no win here and while he certainly didn’t mind certain aspects of sharing, not with a prick. But he did enjoy the game – calling assholes at their bluff. He sat down with a huff and decided to throw out a crumb.

I understand you’d like to meet, consider a further discussion. I’d be willing for a price.

He laughed. The guy would never answer him, never take the bait.

An hour later he was more than just surprised and Dom Gregory’s answer was succinct.

What will you charge for two hours of her time with certain parameters established?

“Oh yeah.” Now the ball was in his court and he had to admit, a fun exercise. He toyed with his answer and couldn’t help toss out a magical number.

Ten thousand dollars.

Michael glared at the screen, willing the jerk to answer. After a full five minutes he gave himself a mental high five. The win was ridiculously sweet.



Oh now where do you think this if going from here? I don’t know and yes, John Patrick and I laughed over numbers – not that he’d sell me off to any man or highest bidder, but the conversation was lively. Guess we’ll have to see…

Kisses and spanks…


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The Measure of a Man

How do you measure a man? For many of us we think money, or clout, good looks or even… Well, you get the idea. I love men in all shapes and sizes. I hunger for certain men in particular and while they may be six foot five, dark haired hunks of sexiness, the truth is if they aren’t amazing people, I don’t care. I’ve known a few utterly amazing men in my life and I can tell you – the experience is delicious in all ways. Just knowing them, learning about their life and loves, worries and fears is amazing. I decided to write a m/m story about the very question – how do you measure goodness when all around you is a damning reminder of a past you can’t get away from, one you wish to God had never happened? It’s how you handle the very concept.

Coming soon…


You can’t run, can never hide from the truth. Or the guilt…

“You’ll do exactly as I say or not only will I ruin your career, I’ll drag your worthless ass into hell. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

The voice was full of file, rage given everything that had happened. He shifted and pulled the phone away from his face, wiping the sweat from his brow. He hadn’t wanted this bullshit in the first place. The prize was too fucking hot, something he’dThe-Measure-of-a-Man-Cover-small wanted for far too long. “You don’t seem to understand what’s at stake here.” He thought about his training, his finger itching for his gun, the one he hadn’t touched in almost eighteen months.

“And you don’t seem to realize I hold your balls between my fingers. If you don’t want them crushed in a vice, I suggest you measure up to the task, boy. You have no idea who I am or the influence I have. If you don’t follow directions to the letter I’m going to strip away all that you think is precious. At this point in my life I’ll stop at nothing to get what I want. Nothing. There are things set in motion and I thought you could do the job. If you can’t, I can task several men who will step into your place, but at what price?” The laugh was evil. “Do I make myself very clear?”

He was well aware of the immense power, the corporation’s ability to wipe out a life with a single phone call. A cold shiver raced down his spine. If only he hadn’t been caught. If only he hadn’t gone over the edge, pushing past the point of no return. If only… He laughed softly to himself as he clenched his fist. “Yes. Crystal.” He pressed the flat of his hand down the side of his leg, panting as the sweat continued to trickle down the back of his neck.

“Good. Then I expect results in three days. There’s no time left, boy. Period.”

“How are you getting him to the required destination?” He was shivering, something he never did.

There was a slight hesitation then the voice was clear and even, yet very pointed. “That’s my job. Now do yours.”

The call ending didn’t give him any comfort. As he glanced out into the lobby he growled. Playing hardball in a way he wasn’t used to was his only choice, one he only hoped he wouldn’t regret for the rest of his life.



“No, that’s not what I meant!”

“Jackson, I know exactly what you meant. I’ve known what you’ve been thinking for months now. You just didn’t have the balls to tell me. And I fucking know why. Hell, this relationship is nothing but a joke anyway. I have no clue why I thought I could live a normal life.”

“A normal life? You’re the one checking out at every turn. You’re the one who seems to pretend I’m the man in your life.”

Gavin laughed. “There are much more important things than a hard fuck, no matter how good the cock is. You hear me?”

Jackson was mortified. He’d never seen Gavin act this way. “What the fuck are you saying to me?”

bernardo-velasco-rickday3“The truth for once. That’s it.”

Jackson glared at Gavin, his rage increasing. “You know nothing about me. Nothing. You claim to give a shit yet you find no time to be with us and…”

“You want to know why none of this matters?”

“Why? What the hell did I do?”

“I may be a snake but I found out you’re sleeping with every man you can find on the street!” His eyes remained locked on Jackson. “And to think I thought this was something special. Ha. Right. I am the idiot my father keeps telling me. Jesus Christ. You’re nothing but a loser.”


“You fucking heard me you pussy boy.” Gavin narrowed his eyes. “Worthless.”

“Jesus Christ. Keep your damn voice down!” The customers in the restaurant were staring, watching the two professional men fight like cats and dogs. He’d wanted the night to be something different, a moment shared that they hadn’t experienced in a solid two months. Now this. Now this fucking bullshit. He had his reasons and they were justified. He simply wasn’t ready to spout off all their dirty laundry right here.

“What? You didn’t think I’d find out? You didn’t have any clue I’d find you with another man or five? I mean my God. What the hell were you thinking? I sure as shit hope you’ve been protecting yourself. The worst part was having my face rubbed in this shit. You know what publicity means. You know what could happen. My God. Are you flipping out of your mind.”

Heat rose across Jackson’s face. None of this made any sense. None. Pushing back his anger he leaned over and smiled, the expression now without meaning. He was chilled to the bone, the understanding of what his relationship had never been cutting through his gut. “As if I don’t know about Mark or Robert or take a damn number. How many men have you had on the side?” The stunned look on Gavin’s face was proof enough. A full minute ticked by and all eyes were on them. When Gavin grinned and shook his head he realized the man was no different than his father. None. They were both dangerous men who applied ruthless tactics to achieve their unscrupulous goals. Suddenly he wanted no part of a nasty world, one infused with murder and blackmail. What the hell had been wrong with him?

“I think we’re done here. As a matter of fact, I think we’re done permanently.” Tossing his napkin onto the table, Gavin jerked his chair back. The sound of wood slamming against the wall reverberated into the room. “I was told you were nothing but a useless man, one who could never measure up to my needs or my station in life, but I refused to believe them. Now I know better. Now I realize that you’re nothing but white trash. My suggestion is that you find a hole to crawl in, one where no one can find you. There will be repercussions from this. Trust me.”PASCAL 2

“Trash?” His mouth went slack. “Repercussions? Are you threatening me now?”

“You heard me.”

Jackson hissed through clenched teeth and slowly rose to his feet. There was no need to make anymore of a scene. “I think we need to talk about this somewhere else.” He was lightheaded, the understanding so fucking clear he was petrified.

“And I think we’re done talking.” Giving Jackson a nasty glare, Gavin grabbed his keys and stalked out of the restaurant.

“Yes!” the voice was shrill.

“Asshole,” another whispered harshly.

Hearing the claps sporadically positioned around the room didn’t bother him in the least. What did was his lover thinking he had the last say. “Fuck.” He tossed down several bills and managed to make it out to the street, catching Gavin on the corner. “We’re going to talk about this.”

“No, we’re not. I’m done talking. I’m done giving a shit. Don’t you get it?” Gavin flashed angry eyes.

“I get it.”

“Then just leave me alone.”

Jackson grabbed his arm. “This is ridiculous and we are going to talk!”

“No, we’re not!” Jerking his arm away, the force pummeling him backwards. “I…I…wish I’d never met you…”

“Wait! No!”

Fuck me. Jackson Sheffield realized his hands were shaking. The memory was hot and raw, far too fresh in his mind and yet he hadn’t thought about the horrible time in a solid three, maybe four years. Why now? He concentrated on his breathing for a full minute; doing everything he could to push the wretched visions from his mind. The anniversary was close, too close. He would never forget the sounds, the anger, or the way he’d fallen into a black hole. Maybe he was still there.

rippedNo, he knew why and the anniversary was only a small part. The odd phone call at three in the morning dragging him out of a fitful sleep had been bad enough. The voice, ghostly and ominous had merely said two words.

You’re dead.


Lies, deceit and blackmail… Can two powerful men come to terms with the monsters invading their souls before it’s too late? 

Jackson Sheffield wasn’t just powerful in business. The strapping ex-hockey player was an irresistible force in every endeavor he attached himself to. Feared by almost everyone because of his size and generally nasty demeanor, he savored his alone time. Determined to become a millionaire before turning forty, he parlayed his sexual prowess and keen eye into a business to be reckoned with. His ability? Turning certain investments into multi-million dollars for his very special clients. That is if they were willing to succumb to his unscrupulous terms of the deal. What few people knew about him was his dark desires, those bordering on dangerous kink. And he was haunted by a horrendous moment in his past, a decision threatening to derail his happiness. Ugly visions clouding every day, when called to a meeting in Las Vegas by his richest client, he was more than ready for a change in venue.

Retired Marine, Logan Reynolds was a well-disciplined and honorable man. Now a professional gambler by trade, his harsh tactics made him a lose cannon, just like in his military career. Hungry for a shift in scenery and a change in his life, he was determined to win the most coveted game in the United States then call it quits. Unfortunately a single decision made in his past could alter his future. The Devil was watching his every move. Faced with the toughest players in the game, he knew he had his work cut out for him, forcing him to push back every distraction and his tactics proved successful. That is until a brooding blond walked into the room, taking an interest in more than his game of blackjack. Drawn in to the man’s darkness, Logan realized Jackson was hiding something, a festering secret. Both men knew this was more than just a game, but as they were forced to face their respective demons, a question remained. How could you place value on the measure of a man?

A monster was lurking in the shadows, one destined to destroy one or both. Karma, after all, was a bitch…

What do you think – can you measure your man?

Kisses and spanks…


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Sexual Sin…Personal Slave Auction II

The term slave evokes so many raw and powerful emotions. Don’t you think? For the majority of us living in the United States, the very concept brings memories about American History and the very dark days we can’t seem to put past us. For those whose ancestry belongs to another country, you certainly have your own brutal moment in time where men and women were debased for who they are or what they believed in.

Sexual slavery denotes a myriad of savage visions as well. We’ve all seen horror stories of young men and women stolen from their homes to be sold off like cattle to the highest bidder. I think when we hear the word there’s usually a negative connotation associated no matter how you paint the picture. BDSM slavery can be something else entirely.

There are variations of the dominant versus submissive side and often the term submissive and slave are intertwined. I can tell you in no uncertain terms that they are not the same. I certainly had zero idea what I would call myself until about a year ago. While the definitions vary, BDSM slavery is usually still the art of giving yourself completely and utterly to a dominant. For slaves, unlike Good girlsubmissives, the lifestyles isn’t about a contract or negotiations. The life is about what he or she as your Master commands you to do/say/eat/sit/fuck without exception. I am a submissive and one who continues to learn her place every day. Fortunately John Patrick is a patient teacher.

If you’ve read the earlier two blogs I’ve written about this recently, you’re aware that a single comment was made regarding a picture I posted on Fetlife. The picture and the comment took on a bit of a life of its own and more men decided that yes indeed, I would be a fabulous participant in a slave auction. Well, for my readers, you know this is a very interesting information gathering exercise. I’m not a slave, nor does John Patrick desire to ‘sell’ me off to the highest bidder, but we have some colorful conversations. We’ve certainly mused about the ‘what if’s’. What is fascinating for both of us is that the sexual banter continues with men who would enjoy ‘purchasing’ me for a night or weekend, or merely a playtime experience. For most I think the concept is nothing more than an additional to their arsenal housed in their kinky bag of hungers. We all have a few sinful desires that we prefer NEVER to tell anyone. Some men very much enjoy the thought of women serving them in every way.

As I told you, some of the requests have nothing to do with sex. Some would like John Patrick to either watch or be involved while others merely want that single moment of unbridled pleasure. The entire situation continues to make me smile. Why? Well being wanted is a tasty thing. No woman can lie about that – but this goes more primal, grasping onto an understanding that men really need to let go, be the man inside they tend to hide from their significant other. Remember what I’ve said often, we strive so hard to have the relationship we think we want that we’ll become anything other than our real selves in order to achieve this lofty goal.

What if you didn’t have to?

What if your nasty and hungry side could not only be exposed but also explored in the most pleasurable ways without fear of consequence? For some Masters/Dom’s, they enjoy sharing their slave and yes, in either gifting for a night or engaging in an auction of sorts. For others, the auction is real and women (yes men sometimes too) want to become a sexual slave, being bought and sold, their lives serving the man or women who purchases them. I don’t know. A little extreme for me, but to each their own. This story is more of a hybrid and honestly based on the ‘what if’ possibilities John Patrick and I have mused over glasses of wine and flavorful conversations. No – this isn’t going to happen, but the possibilities are endless, tasty. Don’t you think? Back to the story…

“Suck me.”

“Yes sir.”

The moment she placed both hands around the base of his cock Michael grabbed her wrists, pulling her hands away. “No. Just suck. Just use your mouth.” He was hungry, his raw needs racing off the charts. Of course he knew why. The concept of this auction was damn hot. Fucking hot. His cock was throbbing, his adrenaline kicking into overdrive. This was fucking hot. Nothing had prepared him for the sweat beading on his upper lip, the trickle slithering down the back of his neck. The moment she relaxed and opened her mouth, he knew he wanted nothing more than to fuck her, use her.

Shuddering, Ashley took his cock into her mouth, her tongue darting back and forth. Her eyes shifted, looking up at him and she managed to purr around the thick invasion in her mouth.

The booming music and the dim lighting was nothing more than a provocative setting. Every nerve ending on fire he tilted his head back as she sucked him, loving the fact she was definitely learning what he craved – a wet mouth, a slow and constant rhythm. As Hail to the King pounded through the computer speakers he smiled. Yeah, the song was fucking hot and perfect for a night of having his sexy slut, the woman he called the perfect whore, to pleasure him.

Our bedroom CageSoft mewing sounds pulsated from her mouth as she liked and sucked, her head bopping up and down.

For a full minute he lolled his head back, savoring the entire scene. He was tingling all over as she struggled to take more of his shaft into her throat. She wanted nothing more than to suck him dry. “Mmmm… Good.” Yes, the thought was invigorating, swelling his balls. Groaning, he placed his hand on her head, pushing down until he heard the strangled sound. “Take every inch. Suck me.”

She obeyed, her gagging noises fluctuating as she moved her mouth up and down on his dick, her mouth staying wet and hot.

“That’s it.” Jutting his hips up, Michael rubbed down her shoulders to her back, amazed hot fucking hot she really did look in his shirt. He thought about Dom Gregory and snarled. No man was going to have her, at least unless they were very much on his terms. Fuck the asshole if he didn’t accept the terms of his deal. He was in charge and Ashley belonged to him. Tingling, he fucked her mouth as she moaned and sucked. His hunger racing off the charts he let her go, reached down and slapped her on the ass. “Suck my balls. Suck them.”

Instantly she shifted, lifting her head. “Yes sir.” Ashley crouched lower, taking a swollen testicle into her mouth.

“Yeah. Squeeze.” He laughed and wiped his mouth. The woman could suck his balls like no other, the perfect amount of pressure. Men wanted to paw her, fuck her. Yeah, he’d known the fact since the moment they’d been together. She was beautiful, sexy and refused to be anything but willful. Most men would want a bucking filly, one they believed they could tame. Just how far would they go? How much would they pay? Yes, the thought was intriguing as blasphemous as the idea might sound to some. Could he actually ‘sell’ her off? He looked down at the woman he loved, the glow of the computer screen highlighting the shimmer covering her cheeks. He needed to fuck her.

Ashley moved to his other ball, licking in a slow and easy circle while she gazed up at him, her eyes flashing.

“You want to please me, don’t you?”

“Yes sir,” she whispered as she licked up the underside of his cock.

Wrapping his hand around the base of his shaft, he slapped the tip against her mouth. “You’re such a good whore, my insatiable slut. Aren’t you?”

Her smile was mischievous, knowing. “Yes sir. I love being your whore.”

“I thought so. Suck me again. Take me all the way down.” Michael gave her no choice and when she was close to having her lips on his swollen sac he could take it no longer, needing more than just her hot mouth. He pushed her back. “Get on your knees.”

“Yes sir.” Scrambling to follow his command she turned around, positioning her body and lowering her head.

Easing off the chair and onto one knee, he slipped both hands under her shirt, cupping and squeezing her breasts. “You feel so good.” He breathed in her sweet scent before pinching and twisting her nipples. Pain was something she craved. Giving her what she needed an increasing requirement within himself, something that continued to give him pause. He wanted to torture her in methods he would have never dreamed of even a year before. All his inhibitions had been tossed the day he met her.

The single slap was forceful enough to push her face into the carpet. Whimpering, she arched her back as she tossed her head back, undulating her hips.

“You want me to fuck you.” There was no question. He knew exactly what she wanted.

red rope“Mmm… Yes sir. Please.”

Michael slid the tip of his cock up and down the crack of her ass then pulled back on her left cheek, opening her wide. He wiggled his cockhead until he pushed just inside her dark hole. Impaling her asshole in one single hard drive, he grunted as her muscles clenched around him. “Oh yeah.” There was nothing like fucking her in the ass, the way her body responded and the way she moaned.

Crack! Pop!

“Oh God!” Ashley slapped her hand on the floor as she opened her legs wider and pushed back.

“You’re such a good little whore,” he breathed, his voice husky. He pulled out until just the tip was inside then plunged again and again, his strokes becoming slow and deliberate. He shoved up the shirt and relished in the slapping noises from every connection. He was sweating, his legs tingling and he picked up speed, wanting nothing more than to fill her dark hole with his cum.

As he continued thrusting every move harder and more deliberate, he couldn’t help but think about watching other men with her. Visions danced in front of his eyes and he was surprised how much they affected him.

“Ooohhh…” Her entire body shivering, she met his thrusts with one of his own, using her strong leg muscles to power her backward. “I’m your fucking slut. I’ll do anything you want me to do.”

“Such a little whore and yes you will.”

“Fuck me. Use me.” Her tone was pleading.

God he loved when she talked dirty. “You want this cock deep in your ass, baby?”
“Yes! Shove it deep inside. I want to please you.”

“And you do.” The moment she clenched her muscles on purpose he growled and dug his nails into her hips. He continued thrusting until he was left breathless. Pulling out he leaned over her, kissing the back of her neck. “Lets go take a shower.



Michael grabbed a beer and moved upstairs to his office. He had to smile. The hard fucking the night before had been intense, delicious. Ashley had called the experience primal. As he sat down in the chair he thought about the shower they’d shared, they way she’d dropped to her knees, sucking and licking, rimming until he carried her to bed. Her light snores as she cuddled against his chest had been a sweet end to an incredible evening.

As he hit the space bar, powering up the computer, he thought about what had started the night – the auction. He’d thought about little during the day than the fact several men wanted her, wanted to pay to have Ashley please them in various ways. His instructions to her had been very clear – have the men contact him. He took a sip of his beer and eased onto the chair, waiting as he clicked onto Fetlife, then typing in his login and password. The question remained. Would any of the three men actually Obeying Sircontact him?

The top bar indicated two new messages. “Well, well.” Someone had messaged him. Given he had few friends on Fetlife, he knew at least one of the supposed Dom’s was hungry enough. A quick click and he smiled. “Of course you want her. What’s not to want?” Michael studied the first email, one from a man who seemed only to want her in every way but sexually.

“Yes, This will be at my terms.” He checked the guy’s profile, garnering very little more than he lived closed and seemed to have some interesting kinks.

Tell me more of what you want and know there will be no sex. I would be interested in talking further.

When Michael hit send he shook his head. Was he? Could he have any man touch her? Maybe. The second message held an air of dignity, as if the man had maybe even solicited a slave in a situation like this before. He read the message several times.

Sir, I understand you are the Master and owner of Willful Slut and she indicates you might allow me to play, even for a period of time. Please tell me more.

The words were by no means anything but a basic question, yet Michael had other thoughts, perhaps a gut instinct about the man. Still, he was intrigued by the entire concept and so he asked the question.

What would you like?

After issuing various hard stops, he hit send. Another shot of adrenaline swept through his system, infusing a moment of nausea. This was off the chain, something neither had anticipated. He should shut down the entire game, completely aware he’d never allow another man to fuck her. But he couldn’t. No, he wanted to see just how far they’d go in this sword fight of debauchery. Selling Ashley off was nothing more than a salacious thought. He chuckled and polished off his beer, suddenly realizing his hands were shaking. Was he kidding about this or would he actually consider selling her off for cash – at least to some degree? The answer was troubling but unavoidable. Perhaps he was too vile or too kinky. Whatever the answer, he was eager to see what the men had to say.

Yes, he was very eager.

I don’t know – do you think he’s gone too far? We’ll see what happens.

Kisses and spanks…


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Spank Me…Just How Perfect Can a Spanking Be?

This one has been a long time coming. I wrote this piece in February 2013 after attending a sexy conference and for some very tasty reasons the idea just came to me. This is written as a partner to Spankdown with the same sexy two main characters and a cast of new spankees. Mmm… Imagine the possibilities as couples of various types come to learn the art of…well, spanking. The first in the sassy little collection, enjoy a taste of…


Victoria was just about ready to shut the entire idea about hiring a Master Disciplinarian out of her mind and out of the entire concept surrounding Spank Me. The nutcases flowing out of the woodwork somehow made Jeffrey Dahmer look tame.PerfectingDiscipline_MED All the mention about blood play and asphyxiation was entirely too much for her mind to even comprehend. She’d been around BDSM groups, having attended her share of Munches and events hosted by trust members of the kinky community, but these men were… “Ugh.”

Even saying the exclamation out loud didn’t make her feel any better. She’d looked at well over two hundred emails, thirty-two actual resumes, and had taken it upon herself to chat with three on MSN. She was beginning to think there was no such thing as a Master Disciplinarian. Sadists, you bet. Maybe her clients would have to accept a woman to dole out punishment period. She paced her kitchen floor, trying to figure out if there was another source she could go to. Anything. Even the concept of putting just a question out on Fetlife was daunting.

There were still a few more emails to go through, but the cut off date for the ad was today at five pm sharp. Re-running the ad didn’t seem like a prudent thing to do. Grabbing a bottle of water, she huffed as she stalked back into her office, glaring down at the computer screen. Okay so there were three more new emails. Groovy. Her mood was sour and she just might answer the monsters a bit tersely. A bit? Hell, she was ready to blast the Dom wannabes into Hell.

She didn’t even bother sitting down. There was no reason to. Victoria had no doubt in her mind whatsoever that she was going to read the same bullshit. Snickering, she opened the first one and read the words out loud, barely able to contain her raucous laughter. “I’m a practiced Dom, having been trained in the Middle East. I’m good with guns and dogs.” Rolling her eyes, she hit delete without skipping a beat.

“I think I’m your man. I’m polished, professional and hold a black belt in Karate.” She had to wonder what that had to do with anything. Oh, but there was more. I savor giving a woman what she needs, a hard beating. “You’re out of here buster.” This was going to make her rethink the entire idea. Maybe water wasn’t going to do the trick, even at ten in the morning. Yep. She was now thinking Bloody Marys.

Moaning, she slapped the water bottle on top of the desk and threw her head into her hands. What in the hell had she been thinking? Several fairly ugly thoughts raced in the back of her mind and the second she heard the blip, telling her another email had found its way to the stupid box she’d secured, she growled and gave the air her middle finger. She was determined not to look, not to give a shit, but curiosity got the better of her.

She glared down at the screen and while she didn’t snarl at the first words, she didn’t jump up and down either. I’m a firm believer in the art of discipline, not the act. Men and women walk a fine line between abiding by the rules and thwarting them. “Really?” So the guy was articulate. Okay. Not too bad. Victoria sat down in her seat. What I see as punishment others take as something else entirely. Becoming a disciplinarian means listening to the needs as well as the fears of the individual you’re taking in hand. Anything less is… What? The guy didn’t finish the sentence? Blinking furiously, she scrolled up and down the screen. “Fascinating.”

This was the single email that made her list to actually really check out the person behind the words. What in the world was this guy’s name? Ah yes, Master Drake. The HOlding his beltname was sexy and, she had no doubt, not real. But then again, hers wasn’t. Hmm. She had a fairly good sixth sense about these things and for some reason, she wanted to find out more. The first thing to do was type an email and then she’d see if the guy responded. Brushing the tip of her finger back and forth across her lips, she wanted to really see what his guy was made of.

Tell me, Master Drake, how would you know what was too much for a pupil, and would you stop or continue on? What implements do you use in your methods of discipline? So the questions were fairly benign, but she would be able to rule out if he was power hungry or far too sadistic for this venture very easily. She hit send and rose from her chair to make that Bloody Mary.

Ten minutes later she was pacing the office and nearly guzzling her drink. Thank God she’d put it in a tall glass or she would have already been back into the kitchen making another one. Yeah, she needed alcohol right about now. Besides the guy, Master Whatever, wasn’t going to answer her so soon. There wasn’t any way. He had a regular life and…


Her attention drawn to the sound, Victoria almost raced back to the computer. The email was definitely from him. She pressed down her shirt and attempted to take her time. Oh hell. The second she opened the email she plopped down on top of the chair.

Interesting questions. Every individual is different and you have to take caution and care when you discipline either a man or a woman. For those who tell you the whips are all the same or that everyone is going to react the same, not only are they wrong, but they shouldn’t be allowed to punish anyone. Period. This isn’t about harm but needed punishment that will cause pain. They are being spanked after all. You have to pay attention to their reactions and emotions as well as their skin’s reactions to the hard strikes. My favorite implement? My hand.

“Wow. Wow.” Victoria nibbled on her bottom lip. This was the real deal. He was the real thing. Now she was shivering. This was certainly very interesting. She tried to figure out how best to interview someone for a position such as this. Hmm. Well, she didn’t want him to know where she lived, given there were so many crazies in the world. And she definitely didn’t want him in charge the meeting location or she could turn into Alpo if he was a serial killer. A public location was best suited, but she really needed to see if the man could use implements properly. Of course she couldn’t ask anyone else to be flogged until she knew if he could actually handle a whip.

Decisions. Ugh. A hotel room. At least if the screaming became too loud the police would be called in. Granted, not until perhaps something horrible happened. She needed to tell someone where she was going to be. It was at that very moment she realized not a single soul knew about her “other” side. Not a single girlfriend, what few she had, knew in the slightest what went on behind closed doors.

Victoria knew of a little cottage style hotel on the outskirts of town. The setting was just off the beaten path so her car wouldn’t be noticed from curious passersby and yet there was a full staff on hand just in case she ran into trouble. The interview should happen sooner versus later. After finding the information on the Internet, she booked a suite. The Master didn’t need to get any ideas regarding a sexual relationship. This was business only.

Ten minutes later, she sent an email. I would like to interview you and this will include a demonstration of your skills. If you’re interested, confirm that you will be at The Riverwalk Hotel at noon sharp tomorrow. Ask for Mistress Scarlett at the front desk. No sense in giving this Master the mere concept he was in charge. This was her baby entirely. Hitting send, she smiled and shook her head. Would the Master actually answer her?

She certainly didn’t have to wait for long. Ten minutes later she heard the subtle A lick of woodbeep.

Demonstration? I’ll be happy to provide you with a much-needed spanking over my knee and very much look forward to the session.


Hungry for a hard spanking?

For Victoria Miller, she knew in her heart everyone deserved a solid spanking now and then. Too bad she wasn’t allowed to convey her beliefs in an open forum. Unfortunately being a highly respected college professor meant endeavoring to share her many years of hallowed education while maintaining a very conservative persona. While she was a good girl during the day light hours, at night she was one wicked vixen, indulging in her hunger for BDSM and Domination, including giving the Internet world her views on corporal punishment. Her spanking blog was a hit, allowing men and women to convey their personal stories of Domestic Discipline and other methods of intense punishment in a protected environment. But she longed for more and developed the perfect plan.

Her idea? Spank Me – a company catering to men and women craving being taken in hand. As summer break approached, interest in her company soared, customers ready to feel the heat of a paddle, the sting of a whip. The trouble was, she hadn’t secured a Master Disciplinarian. A simple ad on Craig’s List, a day long audition and one masked man perfect for the job. But who was the mysterious stranger who seemed to know her most private details? The secret revealed, a touch of blackmail held just above the surface, Victoria was forced to enter into a caustic business relationship – one that proved to be extremely profitable as well as intensely passionate. But what would happen as the new school year approached? Ah, decisions. Decisions. And more spankings for every naughty girl and boy.

What do you think? Ready to be taken in hand? Pick up a copy – only $.99 at ARe and the Naughty Nights Press bookstore!

Kisses and spanks of course…




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