Cherry

5556CC16-848A-43A1-B11B-BB4FF38910D5

This is how it goes.
Her strawberry blonde hair is strewn out across her face in tangles, covering her pretty little eyes.
Her eyes are clenched shut so tight that it hurts.
But that’s not the only thing that hurts her — her face is down against the carpet, grinding against it with every thrust he takes. She can feel the place where it will burn later in the evening.
He’s behind her, she can feel his cock deep within her, filling her to the brim.
There’s no art to this, no poetry. He pulls out fast and slides in fast, knocking the air out of her and leaving her in the daze.
Cherry can feel her body twist in places it doesn’t want to go to. It’s angled upwards, her ass – wet from her slick cunt – catches the breeze as it’s held high in the air.

Cherry is left paralysed in the moment, feeling the throe of both pain and pleasure wash over her.
She can feel her stomach rise and twist when the wind is knocked from her as he enters her, she can feel her nipples harden to the coarse kiss of the carpet beneath her.
Her interaction is reduced to hoarse moans that slip past her lips. She can feel the strands of her hair catch on the corners of her mouth.
Beads of sweat form and trickle down her forehead. Feeling their trickling itch is agony.

There’s an urgency that creeps up on her. Her cheeks, nipples and knees burn from the carpet but she can feel her orgasm rising. Her stomach swells with anticipation.
He, Cherry’s father, comes. Cherry knows this because he has pulled out, at once denying her orgasm and fulfilling his, shooting his come over the cheeks of her ass.
Much later, Cherry would sit in her bedroom, her radio on loud, as she furiously assaults her clit, desperate to recreate the moment in her mind, feeling him inside her still, so she can at least come like the good girl she knows she is. Like she deserves.

For now, she slumps against the floor, ass in the air, as he roughs her hair gently, tenderly.
‘I love you, Cherry’ He says, and she feels he means it.
‘I love you too, Daddy’ She responds breathlessly, and she feels she means it.

Advertisements

12 Days of BDSM Christmas 2017 – #5: Baby, It’s Cold Outside

dea4063a91b9407e1648e76cb7152064--tan-lines-rear-view.jpg

 

My hand is clasped around the chain that clings to her leash, our leash. The one we picked out together.

She stood before me, dressed down in all of the ways; pink splotches covered her nipples where I had smacked her gently moments ago. Her face wears a frown.

She had on her heel boots, the one she wore to work this morning. This much I let her do.

 

Maybe she had a rough day at work, we all have rough days at work, but I did warn her. Gently.

I told her that her sass has no place at the dinner table.

For whatever reason, she chose to ignore that reason.

This act wasn’t a mistake, an error in judgment, no she knew the rules – we went over them by candlelight the night I claimed her in the great storm of 2016. Every detail, every loophole, every reason was covered. If I made a mistake, she corrected me. If she made a mistake, I corrected her. And tonight, well tonight she was at fault.

 

I must admit, when I told her her punishment and a hint of fear flickered in her eyes, there was a little tickle deep down in my cock. My love, ever smart and anticipating, caught unaware.

‘Baby, it’s cold outside’ she said, slipping into her baby girl mode instantly.

‘You should’ve thought of that, my sweetling’ I replied.

 

Her frown as she undressed, lifting her floral dress overhead and tossing it to the floor to reveal today’s underwear – a black strapless bra and rainbow panties, laced with black lace on the outskirts of the fabric – made me grin. I could feel that side coming out of me then. The primal side. The sadistic side. The Master was meeting the Daddy half way and merging.

 

‘Leave the boots’ I said. ‘We can’t have your feet frozen’

She looked at me venomously but I did not relent. A punishment is a punishment, which is the nature of the beast.

 

In silence I fitted her collar around her, the one she wears at home once she slips into her around-the-house clothes, and in silence I led her outside.

 

My heart began to flutter. Would there be people walking their dogs tonight? It was 7-30pm; the sun was yet to set. It was certainly likely.

 

I moved ahead of her, keeping my hand back, forcing her to walk behind me. That was how you kept Dominance with pups’ right? And tonight, she was my little puppy.

 

We turned the corner and began to walk down Lavender Street. Suburbia was quiet. No domestic arguments, no dogs barking or cats fighting. It’s as if the neighborhood knew the punishment as well. Perhaps that was true. If it weren’t by now, it certainly would be soon.

 

I looked back at my little puppy. Her little pixie hair was an auburn tangle, her green eyes fierce and fixed on me. I kept my gaze until she broke it, looking down at her feet. Not something we practiced, but I didn’t raise it at that point in time. I would carry out the punishment before I showed any warmth.

 

With her eyes down, I looked down at her body. They were covered with Goosebumps, prickles all over her arms and breasts. Her small breasts in the moonlight took on an ethereal form. She is my angel, she always will be. I hope she remembers that.

In that moment, I wanted to lower my mouth onto her hard pink nipples. Perhaps my saliva would make her cold but hopefully the warmth that comes from such an action might counteract such coolness.

 

Nevertheless, I strayed my mouth. This was a punishment after all – and I will fulfill it. Around the block, was the full punishment. Nothing more, nothing less.

 

The weather tonight was a cool 16 degrees Celsius. There was a bite to the air and a gentle breeze that traveled up my spine every so often. The primal being within me chuckled at the idea of it affecting my little puppy. I felt strange for the feeling, a pang of guilt hit me, but I shook the thought before it could spread like an illness through my mind.

 

The sweet and heavenly image of her bare ass, pale and covered in goosebumps, brought me back from the darkness – and I found myself smiling.

 

I looked back at her, my little puppy, which cast her eyes down at the ground as she walked along behind me, the chain rattling as we moved.

 

We turned the corner – another right. Just another right at the end of this street and we’ll be back on the street we live in. I’ll turn on the heater; I’ll let her pick a movie.

 

Behind her, my little puppy kept her arms by her legs. Her mound was neatly trimmed. I wonder if I should ask her to style a new design for me. What would she say? How would she feel? Hm.

 

She felt my gaze and looked up at me, and in that moment something seized my chest. What I said about her being an angel, something ethereal, was genuine. But in the light of the dim streetlight, she looked mythical. It gave me chills and I wanted to kiss her there and then. I could’ve very easily taken her, lying her down on what could be the wet grass and slide into her just to hear her deep grunts. Something about that was so….there is no decent word.

 

There came a cough from ahead of us – and my little puppy whined.

With a gentle tug of the chain, she began moving again.

When a woman and man came into view, walking their lab, the woman let out a noise signifying distaste. The yellow lab bounded over to us, eager to sniff my little puppy’s body. For a second, I was eager to let it. But the couple, their faces twisting into snarls in the night, wheeled the lab back and quickened the pace. My little pup and I kept moving.

 

Shortly, we arrived back m out the front of our house, my little pup close behind me, her frozen hands on her body as I turned the key in the door and stepped inside.

 

I ran her a bath, hot but not scalding, hoping it would bring her back into our realm, back into our house.

 

As she slid down into the bath, sighing as steam rose off her mythical body, she whispered low and wavering. I didn’t catch what she said and I didn’t ask her to repeat it, I let her bask in the warmth.

 

The Dominant’s Growl #10

Are you a natural Dominant or are you a learned one? Or both?

I would probably say I began as a natural Dominant, because I can remember it coming to me out of blue during interactions with an old girlfriend of mine.

I had no idea where it came from or why. Well, if I had to guess why, I would say this particular lady was a lady of mischief. And there was resistance there that came out sexually, which – luckily for me – she responded to. If she didn’t, I’d imagine I would’ve caught the train home and listened to some angst ridden metal band that I worshipped as a teen. (Note to self: Is metal an aphrodisiac? Part joking, part curious).

ANYway, the other half would be that I taught myself the kind of Dominant I wanted to be, the kind of partner I would be interested in, and the rules and regulations that I need on my own life to keep me sane.

And I guess I knew I was growing as a Dominant – and as an adult, really – because it suddenly wasn’t just about my needs. I had started to wonder about the needs and mindset of a submissive. I developed a desire to nurture, which is why I repeatedly offer counsel here..

If you’re skimming – allow me to surmise: I started off feeling natural thoughts but through my experience and encounters with submissive women, I learned. I made mistakes and recovered from them.

What have you learned about yourself in the past year that surprises you?

It would be my desire to nurture.

Even as a Dominant, I’m always anxious to make sure my role is keeping things for my kitten well and in tact so that she is happy and fulfilled and loved.

I do this because I’m scatterbrained. It’s easy for me to get lost in my mind, like some sort of weird wonderland labyrinth. And my kitten is kind of this centrepoint of my world that keeps my feet on the ground.

So I guess the more our relationship goes on, the more I’m finding how deep this love runs. It’s like…falling in love all over again and wanting to protect but not protect too much that it’s overbearing.

So to sum it up, I’ve discovered I like to take care of her, and I’ve discovered I like to help others as best I can as well. Which is why I talk a lot about that Daddy side within me. Is that making any sense?

The Work Of Gods


‘The Mother and Father made us in their image. We should glory in our bodies, for they are the work of Gods.”

– A Dance With Dragons, Tyrion IV

Apart from being rich in imagination and vast in entertainment and scope, fantasy – or should we say George R. R. Martin – has some wealth of information you can seek out.

Not that you probably need reminding in this here blog – I like to promote self-love in all its manifestations like it was religious. Boil it down to a dogged mind and a persistence in disciplining the mind – and hopefully that of the mind of you, Dear reader. 

Regardless, Martin said it better than me.

‘We should glory in our bodies, for they are the work of Gods’. It’s a powerful sentence, isn’t it?

The work of Gods. 

The scene from the novel describes a Septa – clergy women in the world of the novel who are ‘sworn to celibacy, sometimes serving noble houses as governesses and tutors to the daughters of lords, teaching them in matters of etiquette and history and activities such as sewing…’ (Taken from the Game of Thrones wiki page) – as she uncharacteristically undressed in front of someone for her morning bath and ritual. It’s not a gratuitous scene, it’s not sensationalised, she’s merely bathing. In fact, the scene says more about her as a character and what that will mean in later chapters than anything. 

But back on track…

Sure, we can look down at our bodies and think to ourselves ‘Ha! Cruel Gods, maybe’. But the Gods (or THE God, depending on the individual) surely can only bring us so far. The rest of the way, we have to find ourselves.

For me, the sentence opened my mind. It was a revelation. We are the work of Gods. I like that. The next time I look at the palms of my hand in a quiet evening – or the next time I consider myself lucky to gaze upon my kitten’s freckles in sacred spots no other man will ever witness (For I’ll tear out his throat and shower in his blood), I’ll think on the sentence. The work of Gods. 

We need to think less negative and think more positive. Re-wire our brains to see what’s a value, rather than an exaggerated defect. Love yourself the next time you’re disrobing in front of a mirror. Love yourself the next time you spot a stretch mark, or a freckle. Love yourself even in times of thinking your cock is too small, too big, breasts too lopsided or triangular (unfortunately, in my times of sisters and ex-girlfriends, these words I have heard uttered).

Don’t like your body? Bothered by your pubic hair? (Don’t snicker, it’s a thing) Find a way to improve yourself – so that in your eyes you are Happy and centred. 

For everything else, it’s always a work in progress! 

In Which I Discuss Teenage Readership (If Any)

When I was a teenager, I felt isolated from the adult world. I felt like there was a secret community I wasn’t a part of, that there was a joke I couldn’t hear yet because I didn’t know it. 

Some adults treated me that way. They’d scoff if I asked a naive question. They’d laugh with others if I showed a moment of weakness and fear,

Just recently, I had an email from a reader in which they felt the need to clarify they were 18+. And I get that, because if I had to rate my blog it’d probably be 18+ for its Erotica and sometimes my language. 

But, readers, at the same time I’m conflicted. I’m conflicted because I don’t want to be that adult that isolates a teenager from learning or asking questions. Because I was that teenager. And looking back, I’d like to think there could be an adult that was available for questions, should they write in to me. In which case I would never turn anyone away or betray their trust.

At the same time, teenagers are growing up way too fast. When I was a teenager, the internet was still in its dial up stages. Blogs and information wiki’s were unheard of. And now teenagers have access to all that, should they so desire. So maybe this blog post is all for naught. Maybe it’s all good. My blog – after all – is just a drop of water in an ocean of information. 

However, I will say this: if you’re under 18 or just on 18, if you need to run a question by me or need reassurance you’re not insane, you’re not alone. You can write to me and I can promise you I won’t judge. 

Somehow you’ve found yourself here, and through my blog there are some other beautiful blog authors that can help you. You’ve found a friendly network now.

Define Yourself

When I was younger – let’s say, 20-21, which feels like a lifetime ago – I often wondered where my place was when it came to the different dynamics of Dominance. 

The more I studied myself and the more I interacted with people, the more I could see I had a hand in different pies. I had the traits of a Daddy, a sadistic side that could fit in with a Master-type – and yet above all that, I had my own sensibilities. Vanilla sensibilities. 

In the past there have been people that have told me outright I was Dominant. Because I didn’t follow their own specifications. I’ve just recently been labeled a false Dominant because of my age. How could I possibly know what I want at my age, right? 

I don’t let this kind of thing get to me. I have been to the deepest darkest part of my mind and peeled behind the curtain. I’ve felt what it means to starve the darkness within me. I’ve wanted to do cruel and unspeakable things to the man that hit on my kitten at a venue a month ago or so now. And I’ve felt the freedom of being a primal, the rush of feeling like this is where I want to be – this spot right here.

We should not judge each other. Ever. We should practice kindness. Openness. We should remember that people grow and learn and become the same as we are in different ways. After all, we are in this together. 

I’ve spent my twenties putting names to my deepest feelings and desires. I’ve spent those years determining if things were a phase – or what thing works for me. 

To the individual – I’ll say this: Follow your heart. It will tell you what is right, what is wrong and what has always been true. No one can take that away from you, for they are fools if they try.

The Psychology behind these dynamics are multidimensional and unique to each person. Find what makes your heart soar. You will know when you feel elated, like you’re in the midst of an epiphany.