Masturbation Monday: “Punishment For Touching”

There’s a back-story to this one. I was a bad girl, and as such I earned a punishment. Mr CK tasked a pretty girl we’re going to be playing with soon to come up with the punishment. Her task for me was to write a piece of erotica about caning… and then read it aloud while being caned. While she watched on cam. So that’s exactly what I did.

Please enjoy the piece I wrote as part of my punishment.

A red and white candy cane. For a Masturbation Monday story about a girl being punished by caning.I hate the cane. Hate it hate it hate it. I love pain, but the thuddy, dull kind – the vicious bite and sting of the cane is something else. That’s why it’s saved for when I’ve been really bad. I knew I was in for it when he caught me with my fingers in my knickers after being strictly ordered not to touch. However much  protested – that it had only been a moment, that it was really his fault for keeping me so cruelly denied – he hauled me into the bedroom telling me I needed the disobedience beating out of me. Which brings me to now – watching him take the evil implement of pain off the hook on the door and give it a couple of test-swings.

“Get your knickers off and bend over”. I squeak. “It’s no use whimpering. Hurry up”. Damn, I wish his orders didn’t make me so wet. My body is beginning to betray me. I peel my knickers off and step out of them and bend over the bed, resting on my elbows, ass pointing up – small and vulnerable. He runs his hand over my ass.

“You know why you’re in trouble, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Why?”

“Because I touched my cunt without permission, Sir.”

“And sluts don’t get to touch their cunts without permission, do they?”

“No, Sir.”

“Five strokes, and I’m not going to go easy on you.”

He brings the cane down on my ass. I let out a squeal of pain. Fuck, it hurts! I bury my face in the bed and whimper pathetically. The second stroke lands in the exact same spot. I yelp.

“Aw. Did that hurt?” I nod furiously. “Good. That’s because it’s a punishment. Three more to go.”

CRACK.

The third stroke makes me scream, the sound muffled by the mattress. I hate it. I hate it so much. So why am I so wet I feel like I’m going to drip all over the floor?

WHACK.

The fourth stroke brings tears to my eyes, but my cunt is wetter than ever.

CRACK.

The fifth stroke is the hardest. The tears spill over, staining the sheet. My ass is on fire.

“Aww, are you crying?” I nod. “You’ll behave next time then, won’t you?”

Without warning, he shoves his fingers between my legs and into my cunt.

“Don’t. Fucking. Come.”

That’s when I realise the punishment is far from over.

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the logo to see what’s getting everyone off this week.

If you enjoyed this story, you can get bonus erotic fiction every Tuesday by signing up to my Patreon page at any level.

Image sourced through Pixabay.

Masturbation Monday: “Fluff”

Content note: this one contains cuckquean fantasy and pretty intense sexual degredation. All parties in this scenario are consenting adults.

A black and white close up of a padlock and claim on the door of a cage. For a Masturbation Monday story called FluffI never know quite who he’s going to bring home. His tastes are wide and varied. One week, a curvaceous redhead covered in tattoos. The next, a tall, slender girl with boobs to die for. Yet another week, the one who looked like she’d stepped out of a 1950s pin-up centrefold. I think he likes to keep me guessing as well as keep things interesting for himself.

A surprising number of women go for what he’s offering… I think it’s because he goes for the more Dominant ones who relish the idea of tormenting a stupid little fucktoy like me.

I hear the door go, and hold my breath. Yes, definitely two of them. I count the steps as they come up the stairs, my heart beating faster. I’ve been locked in my cage in the corner of our bedroom, naked except for my steel chastity belt, all evening – as I always am when he goes out to find someone to fuck. A short distance away, the key sits – for emergencies only, of course, in case the house catches fire or something.

If you ever use it when it’s not an emergency, I will know,” he warned me each time he locked me in. “And you’ll be in for a world of punishment.” I never do. I like sitting here, my cunt getting wetter and wetter with anticipation, waiting for him to come home.

The door opens. He comes in first, my ridiculously beautiful Master, his long hair released from its ponytail and his tie loosened. She follows, and I exhale as I get my first glimpse of her. She’s a brunette, petite, only up to his shoulder even in her heels, her little red dress – the same shade as her lipstick – showing off every inch of fabulous curves.

“Such a good pet, waiting in its cage for you to get home,” she coos, looking over at me. “Is it really going to watch while you fuck me?”

“Mm-hmm. It likes it, too.”

My cunt pulses. I love the objectification of being referred to like this, spoken of not as her but as it. My locked-up hole clenches again when I watch my husband – my Master – grab this beautiful woman and kiss her passionately. She moans into his mouth. His hands find their way first to her breasts, squeezing and massaging, and then to her ass, pulling her in closer to him. I’m not jealous. I know it’s me he really loves, and he only does this because of how much it turns us both on. But god, I’m envious when he pulls up her dress, slides a hand between her legs and rubs her. My own cunt hasn’t felt anything but cold, unrelenting steel for weeks.

She moans, writhing against his touch. He kisses her again. She must hear my whimper, because she giggles and breaks away from him, coming over to my cage.

“When I worked in porn, we had staff whose job was to get the guys hard before they fucked. They called them fluffers.” She kneels before the cage, looking in at me through the bars, turning her attention from my Master to me. “What do you think, little fucktoy? Want to fluff your husband so he can fuck me while you watch?”

I look at her, wide-eyed, and then glance at Master. I am not allowed to speak unless given permission.

“You may speak. Respectfully.”

“Yes please, Miss.” My voice is barely above a whisper.

“Ask nicely,” she taunts. “Maybe we’ll even let you out of that cage if we do a good enough job. On second thoughts, no. Pathetic cunts don’t get their pathetic holes played with.”

I look imploringly up at my Master, who has moved over to stand beside his new friend. “Please, Master, can I suck your cock until it’s hard enough for you to fuck Miss?”

“What do you think?” she asks him.

“Well, since it asked so nicely…” he unzips the fly of his jeans and pulls out his cock. It’s semi-erect already. He shoves it between the bars of the cage, and I open my mouth eagerly to receive it. I take him deeply into my throat, whimpering quietly, flicking my tongue over the head of his cock, gradually teasing it to full erection. God, I could suck his cock all day.

Her hand slips into the cage and between my legs, rubbing the steel of my belt right over my clit. Of course, I can’t feel a thing. I whine and hump her hand, is if it’s going to make any difference. My belted cunt drips.

“Pathetic,” she says again. “Poor little creature, so horny from sucking its Master’s cock. Knowing it’s not going to get aaaaany release at all.” She turns to him. “Has it got your cock nice and hard?”

“Oh yeah. It’s got a talented tongue, that’s why I keep it around.”

She grabs his hand. “Then come and stick that hard cock in my tight little cunt while it watches.”

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the link to see what’s getting everyone off this week.

If you enjoyed this story, you can get bonus erotic fiction every Tuesday by signing up to my Patreon page at any level.

Image sourced through Pixabay.

Masturbation Monday: “Private Tuition”

[This story depicts a consensual roleplay scenario between adults. All characters are above the legal age of consent.] 

A woman lying face down on a bed wearing a black top with a lacy bottom, her butt on display. For a piece of schoolmaster cane erotica.

Gem shifts in her seat, her butt aching from sitting too long in the uncomfortable wooden chair. She glances to her left, where Hannah appears to be engrossed in her work. A few feet away, Sir sits at his desk typing on his computer. They’re supposed to be working in silence. Punishment for whispering and giggling during his lecture earlier.

Fuck this, Gem thinks. Time to make this a little more interesting.

Very slowly, one eye on their Professor at all times, she reaches a hand across the couple of feet of space between them and pokes Hannah in the side. Hannah jumps and yelps. Lightning-quick, Gem pulls her hand back and returns to her book.

“Is there a problem?” Sir asks, his gaze on Hannah.

“No, Sir.”

Gem fights to keep the smirk off her face. A minute passes. When she’s sure Sir’s full attention is back on his screen, she reaches a hand out again and – so quickly Hannah barely has time to register what’s happening – tips Hannah’s open book onto the floor. It lands with a clatter in the quiet room. Gem is already writing again, her face a picture of innocence.

“Hannah!” Sir’s voice booms across the room as the other girl scrambles to retrieve her book.

“Sorry, Sir.”

He stands, comes around to the front of his desk. “Come over here.” Hannah stares. “Hurry up, girl, I haven’t got all day.” Hannah reluctantly gets up and goes to the front of the room. Her black skirt is so short it barely covers her ass. Slut, Gem thinks.

“Do you want to explain to me why you seem to be unable to follow simple instructions like study in silence?”

“It was Gemma, Sir. She prodded me and made me jump and then she pushed my book off the desk.”

“Is that true, Gemma?”

Gem glances up, her eyes wide in feigned surprise.

“No, Sir. I’ve just been sitting here doing my work, Sir.”

Sir is sure she’s lying, of course. But he’s not going to turn down the opportunity to punish two little sluts for the price of one.

“You’ve been nothing but trouble lately,” he tells Hannah. “I think it’s time you learn what happens to bratty girls who can’t behave in my classroom.” He goes to the cupboard in the corner of the classroom. Gem feels her eyes widen, and watches Hannah’s do the same, when they both see that he’s taken out a long rattan cane, the type wielded by Victorian schoolmasters in old TV dramas.

“Bend over my desk,” Sir tells Hannah, flexing the evil-looking thing between his hands. Hannah takes a step backwards, stuttering something unintelligible. “Don’t make me tell you again, girl, or it’ll be worse for you.”

This can’t be happening, Gem thinks, all pretense of focusing on her studies out of the window, gaze fixed on Hannah to see what the other girl will do. There’s a second where Hannah glances over Sir’s head at the door, as if considering running and then deciding against it. After the longest ten seconds or so in history, she turns and bends over the desk, resting on her elbows and forearms with her butt in the air. From her vantage point, Gem can just see the crease where Hannah’s bottom joins her thighs beneath the ridiculously short skirt.

This has got to be some kind of insane dream, Hannah thinks, bracing herself against the hard wooden surface of the desk. Any minute she’ll wake up and she’ll go knock on Gem’s door and tell her flatmate all about the crazy dream she had about being caned by their sexy, straight-laced Professor. Yet even as she thinks this, she realises there’s a part of her that doesn’t want to wake up.

She’s brought back to the knowledge that this is very, very real by the touch of a large hand on her ass through her skirt. Then Sir is flipping her skirt up and over her lower back, revealing her bottom covered only by the flimsiest of lacy knickers. He caresses her again, making her draw in her breath sharply. This is so humiliating! And yet…

“I’m going to give you ten strokes of the cane. Are you going to count them for me like a good girl?” Hannah hears herself whimper.

The first stroke surprises her more than in hurts her.

“One…” she manages to gasp, catching her breath and bracing herself for the second strike.

The second stroke is more painful, landing in exactly the same spot as the first. It’s a sharp, stinging pain that settles to a dull ache.

“Two.”

He strokes her ass between each stroke, the gentle touch a stark contrast to the pain.

Thwack. “Three.”

Crack. “Four.”

She hears herself moan with the fourth stroke. The shocking realisation comes to her: she’s enjoying this. She’s always enjoyed a bit of spanking in the bedroom with boyfriends, but this is somehow different. It hurts more, yes, but it’s also more… the word comes to her, humiliating. More erotic. As the fifth stroke lands, she realises she’s dripping wet and hopes Sir – and Gem – don’t notice.

“Five.”

Gem watches, mesmerised, from her seat. The way Hannah’s ass jiggles slightly with each stroke of the cane, the beautiful red lines that are starting to appear on her pale skin, and the way her little whimpers have given way to moans have her transfixed. She can’t deny it – she’s more turned on than she can remember being in a long time. She squirms in her seat, feeling her wetness coating her knickers and wishing she was brave enough to slip a hand under the waistband of her skirt and finger herself.

Sir runs a finger along the elasticated waist of Hannah’s panties. “Let’s get these off.”

“Oh, no, please…” Hannah protests.

“Shut up, little slut, you’re not in control here.” The sh0ck and embarrassment at being called a slut by her Professor sends another rush of arousal to Hannah’s cunt. She is powerless to fight back as Sir peels the thin lace from her ass and down over her legs, leaving them around her knees.

“Hannah.” His voice is stern.

“Sir?”

“Why are your knickers wet?”

Fuck. She doesn’t know what to say.

“I… I don’t…” She’s silenced by his hand stroking her ass again, soothing the burning lines made by the cane.

“Are you enjoying this, little slut? Does getting caned make you wet?” She shakes her head vehemently. “We’ll see. Soon Gemma and I will both find out just how wet you are. But before then you’ve got a few more strokes to go, haven’t you?”

Gem’s aroused squirming has intensified. She’s rocking her ass gently in her chair, thrusting her cunt against thin air.

Whack. “What number was that, Hannah?”

“Six, Sir.”

Whack. “Seven.”

Oh, god, Hannah thinks. It hurts more without her panties – however thin – cushioning her ass, of course. But the eroticism and embarrassment of standing here, bent over a desk with her soaked knickers around her knees, is almost too much to bear.

“The last three are going to be harder. Are you going to take them for me, little slut? Of course you are. We all know you’re loving this.”

Stroke number eight makes her yelp. “Eight,” she gasps.

Number nine makes her squeal, but her cunt is wetter than ever. “Nine!”

The final stroke is the hardest, but before she’s even moaned out “ten,” Hannah finds herself disappointed that her punishment is over. She’s never been so turned on in her life. She starts to straighten up, to reach for her knickers and pull them back up, but Sir’s hand is on her back and holding her in position.

“Don’t you move.” His fingers run over her ass and dip down to just before her cunt lips. “Spread your legs,” Sir orders. Hannah obeys, burying her face against her arms on the desk to hide her blushes. She’s so very humiliated… why does it turn her on so much?

She gasps as she feels his fingers make contact with her swollen outer labia, and then trace their way along to the opening of her cunt.

“It’s a fucking flood down here,” she hears him say. “You really do like being caned, don’t you, little slut?” He strokes her cunt tantalisingly gently, running his fingers through her black curls of pubic hair, teasing her but never making contact with her clit, the centre of her desire which is now throbbing in desperate need to be touched.

Gem, unable to contain herself any more, has slid a hand between her legs and is teasing her own cunt over her knickers. Watching her sexy friend be caned, teased and humiliated has left her feeling by turns envious and thankful it’s not her, but most of all, aroused as hell.

Hannah thrusts back against Sir’s teasing hand, trying to get the stimulation where she needs it the most.

“Awww,” he taunts her, “does little slut want her little clit touched?” In answer, Hannah whimpered and tried again to grind her cunt against his hand. He pulled it away, leaving her aching. “Uh-uh, not today. You’re being punished, remember? It’s too bad you’re such a filthy girl that it gets you all squirmy and needy.”

Hannah wants to protest, to beg, but he’s already pulling her knickers back up, smoothing them into place over her sore ass, and flipping her skirt back down to cover whatever semblence of dignity she has left. She lets out an unsatisfied whimper.

“Gemma.”

A nervous knot forms in Gem’s stomach as she pulls her hand away from her wet cunt. “Sir?”

“Take her home and edge the hell out of her. It’s your job to make sure she doesn’t come before next week’s class. If she does, I’ll lock you both in chastity belts for the rest of the semester.”

Did you enjoy this piece? You can find out what happens when Gem gets Hannah home in #BonusSmutTuesday, exclusively for Patreon supporters. Sign up at any level to get access.

 

Masturbation Monday is created and owned by Kayla Lords. Click the logo to see what other deliciousness is getting people off this week.

Masturbation Monday: “Ask Nicely”

A nude woman lying on her side, apparently asleep, on a bed with white sheets.I’m not usually allowed to wear clothing in the house. He says it covers up my pretty body, which should be readily accessible to him at all times. The only exceptions to this rule are when I’m cold and I ask permission to wear a robe to keep me warm, or when he wants me to wear something in particular that’s appealing to him. After several years of this protocol, nudity has come to feel like my natural state. It’s when he tells me to put something on that I know fun things are about to happen.

He kisses me awake, first my eyelids then my lips. My eyes flutter open. I smell hot coffee.

‘Hello, pet.’

‘Good morning, Sir,’ I say sleepily.

‘You’re going to drink your coffee, then you’re going to go and put those pretty knickers on for me. You know the ones I like – the black lace.’ My cunt twinges and I feel a knot of excitement growing in my belly. This sounds like a very promising prelude to something.

I sip my coffee leisurely while I allow my mind to wander to what might be on Sir’s mind. My cunt is getting ridiculously wet already. Sir always tells me it’s embarrassing how drippy I get. I tell him it’s because he won’t let me touch it without permission, and at least half the times I ask for permission he tells me no. Then he laughs at me and calls me a silly desperate slut and reminds me that he’ll lock it away in a chastity belt if he ever catches me touching it without permission. I don’t. The ache is hard, but disappointing him would be a thousand times worse.

I swing my legs out of bed and pad over to the chest of drawers, pluck out the requested knickers and slip them over my hips, smoothing the lace over my ass. I also pull my hair out from its ponytail and shake it out over my shoulders. Sir likes it loose and flowing – more to grab on to, he says.

He comes back in just as I’m admiring my reflection in the full-length mirror.

‘Yes, you’re gorgeous,’ he agrees, looking at me approvingly from across the room. ‘Now get over here and get on your knees.’

I scurry across the room and fall to my knees at his feet. He strokes my hair, tells me I’m a good girl, his pretty kitty. I melt.

He moves behind me and I hear him grabbing something from the drawer where we keep our toys. I know better than to turn around and see what he’s doing. I feel him crouch behind me, brush my hair aside and kiss my neck. A shiver runs down my spine and through my body. My nerves are taut, waiting. Fuck. This man knows how to play my reactions like an instrument.

The rope encircles my left wrist. He ties it off in a quick single-column and then secures it fast to my ankle. The right side gets the same treatment. I test the bonds, just to make quite sure I can’t wriggle out of them.

‘Keep still, slut.’

He moves back to stand before me. Grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls me by it into the kneeling-up position. Kisses me hard. I moan against his mouth, entirely taken. Entirely his. God, I’m dripping. I must be staining the pretty panties and probably the carpet beneath me, too.

He releases me. I watch, sure that my hunger is evident in my face, as he unbuttons his jeans and lets his hard cock spring free.

‘You want this?’ he asks, gently stroking it with one hand, inches from my face. I nod furiously. ‘Of course you do, cock-loving slut that you are. You’re going to have to ask really nicely though.’

‘Please can I have your cock, Sir?’

‘Where do you want it?’

‘In my mouth, Sir.’

‘Mmmm, are you sure you don’t just want to watch me get myself off over your lovely body?’

I shake my head. ‘No, Sir. Please let me suck your cock and serve you, Sir.’

With his free hand, he grabs one of my protruding nipples and twists it painfully. I squirm in my restraints. The other nipple gets the same treatment. I let out a squeak of pain. I am sure I see his hand grip his cock more tightly, stroking faster.

He laughs lightly. ‘Poor slut. It must be torture watching me wank in front of you, knowing your hands are tied and you can’t get what you want so much?’

‘Please, Sir…’

‘Mmm, I like it when you beg. But no.’

I whimper. It is, as he correctly identified, torture having his beautiful cock so close to me and not being allowed to touch it or suck it the way I want to.

‘Today I’m just going to use you as a decorative toy to get off over.’

He strokes his cock harder. He moans and I watch the way his body tenses as he brings himself closer to orgasm. Then his hand is in my hair again, dragging my mouth to his, the kiss swallowing the sound he makes when he comes. His tongue finds its way into my mouth as I feel his come splash over my breasts.

He pulls back and looks down at me, a wicked smile on his lips. ‘Filthy girl. Let’s get you untied and in the shower.’ A final kiss. ‘Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to get my cock in your mouth next time.’

Masturbation Monday is a meme started by Kayla Lords. Click the badge below to see what other smutty treats folks have got for you this week. If you enjoyed this piece, consider supporting me on Patreon – there’s bonus smut there every Tuesday for patrons at all levels, which will sometimes be related to my MM post and sometimes be a stand-alone. This week’s image is by Molly Moore and shared with permission as part of Masturbation Monday.

The Four Archetypes of my Submission

It’s the penultimate day of my adventure through Kayla Lords and John Brownstone’s 30 Days of D/s programme, and today is all about exploring what kind of submissive or Dominant you are. Are you a slave, a pup, a kitten, a brat, a little, or something else?

Two rubber ducks, one red and decorated like an angel, and one black and decorated as a devil. For a post on submissive archetypes.

I can be lots of different things when I’m submitting. It depends on the mood, the activity, the partner I’m with… all kinds of factors are at play. There are definitely some themes which crop up again and again, though – and today I wanted to share the archetypes I tend to embody when I’m in my submissive role.

The Good Girl

This is where my service submissive gets to go to her happy place. Fundamentally, when I’m in Good Girl mode, I want to please the person I’m submitting to. I want to be praised and given verbal and non-verbal affirmation that I’m doing a good job.

What to say when I’m in this mood: “You’re such a good girl. Sir is so proud of you.” What not to say: “That’s not good enough, I am disappointed.”

The Victim

This is where the darker side of my kinks comes out to play. This is the place for consensual non-consent, fear play and all those other delightful dark, twisted corners of my fantasies. In this mood, I want to be taken. I want to be victimised. I don’t want softness or concern or mercy… I want to be an object for the other person’s desires.

What to say when I’m in this mood: “Shut up, I’m going to do it to you whether you scream or not.”
What not to say: “Is that okay? Do you want me to go gentler?” (Unless said in a sarcastic/mocking tone, maybe. I have a safeword if it’s not okay!)

The Willing Sex Slave

This is the space where I just want to sexually service my partner and get fucked. This is definitely the most purely sexual of my submissive archetypes. It’s where I’m not so fussed about pain or sensation or roleplay, I just want you to use my body to get yourself off. (And maybe give me a few dozen orgasms in the process.) I want to suck you off and hear you moan about what a good fucktoy I am. I want to have my legs spread and feel your fingers probing into my cunt while you make fun of my wetness.

What to say when I’m in this mood: “You’re going to suck my cock for as long as I like and if you’re lucky, I might fuck you afterwards.”
What not to say: “I suppose we can get you off if you really want.” (Clue: acting like my pleasure is a chore = not sexy.)

The Brat

I love bratting occasionally. It doesn’t come out very often, but mostly when I’m in a very silly or playful mood. When I’m in this space, I want to be tamed into submission by someone who takes the brattyness as a challenge. I want them to pin me down while I’m giggling and struggling and trying to run away. I want them to try to intimidate me into telling them where I’ve hidden their favourite whip. (Not that I would EVER do this. Honest!)

What to say when I’m in this mood: “If you don’t start behaving I’m going to take off this belt and beat you into submission.”
What not to say: “Ugh, I hate brats, why can’t you be a proper submissive?”

How about you, dear friends? Which submissive archetypes do you embody when you play?

Kinky item of the day: NeonWand! I love electro play. It can be painful, sensual, teasing, sexy or any combination of things. And as long as you follow the instructions carefully and communicate, these kits make it a lot safer than you might think. This Kinklab kit is a good alternative to an original Violet Wand, which can run to hundreds of pounds for even a basic model.

The image featured in this post was reproduced under Creative Commons Licensing.  

When You’re Exploring, Not Everything Will Work – and That’s Okay!

This one’s late! Sorry sorry sorry! I had a really bad mental health day yesterday. Trigger warning: this post talks about consensual non-consent including rape fantasy.

I’d like to thank Sarah Brynn Holliday for becoming my latest sexy patron. You should check out her blog, she does brilliant work. If YOU’D like to support my work here, please visit my Patreon and pledge at any level. Even $1 a month means so much and you’ll get access to occasional exclusive content and get your very own shout-out here (with a link to your blog or Twitter if you have them.)

A close up on a map, magnifying glass and compass. For a post on exploring kinks and when they don't work.

So, onto today’s topic which, credit where it’s due, was suggested by my sweetie The Artist when I messaged them going “heeeeeelp I’m not inspired”! Today’s prompt from 30 Days of D/s (it’s nearly over, y’all!) is all about exploring your kinks together with a partner, in particular things you haven’t tried but would like to.

I’ve tried a lot of kinky shit over the years. Like, a lot. I’m not gonna say “name a kinky thing and I’ve probably done it,” because some of you have truly devious imaginations. But I’ve been doing this stuff for well over a decade. I have a lot of experience. At the start of our relationship, The Artist asked me what I hadn’t done and might like to try. I was just like “oh shit what have I not done!?”

Inevitably, perhaps, I’ve done some things that I do not care to do again. When you’re exploring an area as broad as kink and sex, you won’t like everything you try. That’s okay! Trying something and not liking it isn’t a failure. It’s a valuable learning experience.

I’m pretty big into consensual non-consent, or CNC – also known as “rape fantasy”. This is a really, really common kink especially among (people socialised as) women. I am nowhere near qualified to start delving into the reasons for that. Anyhow, I’m into it, and I practice it carefully with safe partners and safewords. Up until last year, my biggest fantasy was a group CNC scene, where several partners would ambush and ravish me. Um, to be honest, this is still one of my biggest fantasies.

But you know what happened when we tried to make it a reality? It didn’t work. Some combination of the time of night, my tiredness level, the people involved and my sense of disorientation combined to make it too much. I safeworded out and then spent the next two hours crying and apologising. What was wrong with me? This was my fantasy, why hadn’t it worked for me?

The truth is there was nothing wrong with me. There was nothing wrong with my partners, either – everything they did was 100% consensual! It was what we thought we all wanted! None of us did anything wrong. The scene just didn’t work out. Sometimes scenes don’t work, and that’s okay. Sometimes you can be absolutely sure you’ll like something… and then in reality, you won’t. That is also ten million percent normal and fine!

There’s an anecdote in, I think, one of Janet Hardy and Dossie Easton’s books. I’ve just spent an hour searching for it and can’t find it, which is really annoying me! Anyway, it tells of a woman who has always fantasised about receiving caning… until she finds she reality too painful. This is because fantasy isn’t accurate, realistic information. Fantasy is there first for fun and titillation. Yes, it gives you an insight into things you might like to try, but liking it in fantasy doesn’t mean you’ll like it in reality. You might, you might not. You might like a modified version. Either way, that’s completely okay!

I still have group CNC fantasies, and I may or may not try to act them out again at some point. If I ever do, I’ll use the information I learned from what went wrong last time to modify the scene. If I don’t, it’s still okay for me to enjoy the fantasy! Not wanting to do something for real doesn’t mean you can’t fantasise about it! Even trying something and having it go wrong doesn’t have to be a barrier to continuing to enjoy your fantasies.

The key to exploring, I think, is to try not to attach too much to one particular outcome. This sounds ridiculously “zen,” and I appreciate it’s really difficult. But if you approach trying something new with the mindset of, “it might work, it might not, but we’ll learn something either way,” the pressure to have it be the best scene of your life lets up almost immediately.

Approach with an attitude of open exploration, communication and the goal of mutual pleasure and discovery. You might find your new favourite thing. You might also find out that some things are happier staying in your inner fantasy world – and that’s valuable too.

Kinky item of the day: Spreader bars! For me, there is very little sexier than being spread open and vulnerable in front of a Dominant lover. Especially if they’re also slapping my cunt and/or ripping an orgasm from me with the Doxy. Try this lovely adjustable bar from Sportsheets.

The image featured in this post was reproduced here under Creative Commons Licensing.

How to Put Me in Subspace

I have to admit, I’m starting to be glad this #KinkMonth thing is nearly over. Posting every day no matter what is fucking exhausting, y’all! Still, the show must go on, and today’s prompt from Kayla’s awesome 30 Days of D/s is all about subspace!

She says:

“Subspace or top/dom space isn’t a guarantee every time you get kinky or in every D/s relationship. The feeling comes from the endorphins, dopamine, and other feel good chemicals our brain produces in a really intense scene.”

A woman's upper body and bottom from the back, with her hands cuffed behind her back. Black and white. For a post about subspace

I’ve learned my own subspace triggers over the years. I’m always discovering new ones, and the ones listed here won’t work every single time, of course. But the following are the most reliable ways I’ve discovered to get me there.

[Disclaimer: don’t do any of these to me without consent. Obviously.]

Stroke the insides of my wrists

Yesssss. This area of my body feels super vulnerable to me, partly for trauma-reasons. It’s also hyper-sensitive. This means that only very trusted partners get to touch me there. For some reason, probably for reasons of the aforementioned vulnerability, having my inner wrists stroked is a pretty powerful way to push me down the subspace rabbit-hole.

Pull my hair

Mmmfff. I love hair-pulling. Grab a handful and give it a (GENTLE-ISH) tug. I don’t want to feel like you’re trying to pull it out, but I want to feel like you’re using it to control me and put me exactly where you want me.

Call me a “good girl”

I’m at least somewhat of a service-sub. I want to please the person I’m submitting for. Don’t just throw this out willy-nilly – it won’t work – but when I’ve done something to deserve it, a well-timed “good girl” will make me melt into a puddle at your feet.

Call me slut, whore, bitch or girl

Mild humiliation of this kind gets my cunt wet and sends my subby desires into overdrive. I don’t see them as insults when they’re said to me in the context of a scene with a person I know actually likes me. Think phrases like, “are you going to suck my cock like a good little slut?” or “Get on your knees, girl.”

Grab my throat

Fair warning: if you do this without consent, I may assume you’re trying to kill me and act accordingly. In a consensual scenario, though, I love love love a hand on my throat. Not squeezing (breath-play is a hard limit except occasionally with Mr CK,) just… holding. Firmly. In a way that says, “you’re mine and I will do what I want with you.”

Look at me over your glasses

In a sexy, stern teacher kind of way? Please?

Woof. I need a cold shower now. What gets YOU into subspace or Domspace, dear readers?

Kinky item of the day: Clingfilm/plastic wrap! I was once fastened to a post, off the ground, using nothing but pallet wrap. A super cheap and easily accessible tool which you can use for mummification and restraint. Disclaimers: NEVER wrap the face or neck. Keep safety shears handy. Read up on safety protocols before you experiment.

The image featured in this post was offered for use via Creative Commons Licensing.

If you enjoyed this post, I would love it if you felt inclined to buy me a coffee to say thanks. It really helps keep the blog going!

My Favourite Kink: 3 Reasons I Love Orgasm Control

In a revelation that will be a surprise to precisely nobody who has met me: I LOVE orgasm control. It’s my absolute, number one fetish bar none. Something like 90% of the time, when I’m masturbating, I’m fantasising, reading erotica or watching porn with orgasm control themes. (The other 10%, I’m probably thinking about gang-bangs, but that’s another post.) Seriously, this kink gets me the fuck off. (Which is ironic, really.)

A metal medieval chastity belt. For a post on orgasm control.

I’m using “orgasm control” as a catch-all here. It can encompass orgasm denial, teasing and denial, edging, ruined orgasms, coming on command, forced orgasms and post-0rgasm torture.

Today’s #KinkMonth post comes, again, from Kayla Lords’ 30 Days of D/s. Today, Kayla”s asking about orgasm control and what we think of it. I think I’ve just laid out pretty clearly what I think of it. But I wanted to share a little of the reason behind that with y’all.

So, here’s a quick-‘n’-dirty (so dirty) list of reasons why I fucking love giving someone else control over my release.

1. Because masochism.

It’s not the same kind of pain as being hit with something, but orgasm control is a form of sadomasochism in its own right. When I’ve been teased really good without release, my cunt starts to physically ache. I love it. (I also hate it, but that mindfuck is also part of the fun.)

Similarly, when I’ve been forced (or ordered – I can pretty much come on command with G-spot stimulation) to come over and over and over… it starts to get pretty damn painful. Sometime around the sixth orgasm it starts to get too much. Around the tenth, I’m begging for it to stop (and yet wishing for it to carry on forever.)

And… have you ever had an orgasm ruined? Fucking hell. That’s an ache – and a level of frustration – unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced.

2. Denial makes the final orgasm more intense.

Seriously. You know how if you get really close to the edge a few times while masturbating, it’s better when you do let yourself come? Yeah. That. Only more. Coming after a session of denial, whether it’s a play session of intense teasing or not being allowed to touch at all for a couple of days…. mmmfff. Be warned: doing this to me often results in a temporary loss of ability to walk or make sentences.

3. It makes me feel really submissive

My sexuality is a really, really important part of me. Our sexuality is a a pretty fundamental part of what makes us human! So to give up control over my sexual release to somebody else, even if only for the length of a scene, feels like placing a crucial aspect of my personhood into their hands and saying, “I trust you to use this to have fun and satisfy us both, and not use it to harm me.”

For my subby brain, which is pretty much the part that’s in control in the majority of kinky situations, this is super fucking hot.

Oof. Well. If you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go wank now.

Kinky product of the day: Cock rings! Check out this one, which is pure silicone, rechargeable, and part of the utterly gorgeous new Mantric range. With the launch offer, you can get 30% off if you buy two products together.

This post contains affiliate links and if you buy through them, I make a small commission. All opinions are, and will always be, purely my own.

The image featured in this post was offered for use via Creative Commons Licensing.

Masturbation Monday: “Pinwheel”

Two firsts for me on the blog today: I’m taking part in my awesome friend Kayla‘s Masturbation Monday challenge for the first time (you can too! Click the link for details and to see everyone else’s smut.) I’m also writing erotica from the point of view of a person with a penis for the first time.

The header for Kayla Lords' Masturbation Monday project, for an erotic story titled Pinwheel

The prompt post is here (I’m not adding the picture because I don’t want the blog to get shut down due to images of genitals.)

Here’s my Masturbation Monday effort. It includes female dominance and male submission, tease/denial, and mild genital pain infliction. Usual disclaimers apply: all characters are legal adults and giving informed consent to everything portrayed here.

If you like this work and want to see more of it, become a Patron or buy me a coffee to say thanks!

“Pinwheel” © 2017 Coffee&Kink

‘Do you want your cock touched?’ she asks, her fingers teasing the unyielding plastic of my cage as my dick strains against it, trying to get hard, trying to feel something.

‘Please…’ is all that comes out. She giggles, this woman I love, my wife of fifteen years and now also my Mistress of just over a year. She twirls a strawberry blonde curl with her left hand, while her right moves from my caged cock to my swollen balls.

‘But it’d be such a shame. You’re so obedient when you’re frustrated and I’m worried that if I let you out now, you’ll just come and then all my hard work will be ruined.’

Continue reading “Masturbation Monday: “Pinwheel””

[Offsite] Guest blog for Girl on the Net on Female Orgasm Denial

Today I am immensely proud and privileged to have had a guest blog accepted and published by Girl on the Net. This is a big deal for me for two reasons: first, I love GOTN’s work and I’m full of joy that she likes something of mine too. Second, this marks the first time I’ve been paid to write about sex. (Also, I was inspired – dared? – to send the pitch by GOTN’s amazing panel on pitching at Eroticon.)

Here’s the teaser (heh) of ‘Female Orgasm Denial (or: Why I Get Off on Not Getting Off)’:

‘Don’t stop… please don’t stop… I’m going to…’

‘No you’re not.’ The vibrator is yanked away. I cry out in frustration as my clit pulses with need and my cunt clenches in anticipation of the orgasm it’s been denied.

He does it again. And again. And fucking again. I am ready to cry with desperation, ready to promise anything in exchange for release.

Read the whole post here.