[Guest Post] “Three Pairs of Ruined Panties, Two Delicious Dinners, and One Squirming Sex-Blogger Slut” by Jadis Liddell

Today I am super honoured to be hosting a guest blog by the gorgeous and talented Jadis of Tits and Test Tubes. She’s so brilliant I am frequently amazed when I remember 1) how young she is and 2) how new she is to sex blogging. Definitely an up-and-c0ming talent to watch out for, and a woman I am privileged to call a friend. I’ll let her introduce herself…

– Amy

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A woman's body from the waist to mid-thigh, wearing black lace knickers and drawing a heart on her hip and belly with red lipstick. For a guest post by Jadis Liddell.

Hey, I’m Jadis Liddell, a queer sex blogger who writes erotica, reviews sex toys and talks about mental health. I blog at Tits And Test Tubes, and am on Twitter at @TitsAndTestTube. I’ve been blogging for less than six months, so I was really excited, but also really nervous, to pitch this post to the wonderful Amy at Coffee & Kink, who I have a wee bit of a writer-crush on. I recently had my first threesome , a really interesting conversation about reclaiming the word ‘slut’, and took myself out on a date…

(And yes, bonus points will be given to those who sing the title of this post to the tune of the Christmas song that I have been told off – and spanked – for singing in May.)

While I’m sure there are many people who arrive at my blog looking for more science-related-content than my erotica delivers, I am at heart a scientist and a very curious person. A few weeks ago, I realised I had a unique opportunity to conduct a very fun experiment that played into many of my kinks and could hopefully help me learn something new about my sexuality.

I had a date for kinky play with two cute humans lined up in the next few weeks, and we’d spent a lot of time discussing and negotiating sexy fun for our adventure together. Lots of this involved playing into my kinks of denial and humiliation, with them making fun of me for how wet and needy my cunt was after they’d tormented me to their satisfaction. To help with this, and especially so we could explore them teasing me in public, I’d bought a new toy: specifically, the Desire butterfly vibrator from Lovehoney. (Reviewed by Amy here).

I was about to enter a week of denial when I wasn’t allowed to masturbate – following on from a few days when I was allowed to wank but not orgasm – to make sure that I was a horny mess by the time I got to play with them. I think this was guaranteed anyway, but they wanted to be certain. (As well as see me squirm, because they are a wonderful sadistic bastard and a mean-in-the-best-way switchy girl respectively.) However, I hadn’t tried out the new toy yet, and I was struck with inspiration for how to do so.

Something I’d been meaning to do since the start of 2018 was taking myself out on a date – which I was defining as getting dressed up and going out to dinner at a fancy restaurant. In my mind, it was an expression of self-care and self-love, and as well as a reminder that I am not ‘less’ because I’m not in relationship. Since my mental health meant I hadn’t yet done it at this point, I decided that I would combine testing my toy with taking myself out to dinner. I wore cute knickers, new tights, a pretty dress, a belt that matched my boots… and under all of it, a vibrator strapped to my cunt.

With instructions from my to-be-play-partners to be a good girl and turn the vibe on while you’re talking to someone, slut, I headed off on my date. In my handbag, the remote for the butterfly lay next to my new LGBTQIA+ YA novel, but by the time I’d reached the end of the street I’d slipped it into my pocket and had fun testing out the settings as I walked to my restaurant of choice.

As I was treating myself and ordering a luxurious three courses, I had lots of time to play with the toy. Like the obedient girl I am, I turned the vibrator on while ordering my dishes and asking for the bill, but I might have tweaked exactly how powerful the vibrations were for that. (Though they don’t know that, so ssshh!) While eating my food, I had the remote on my lap, and wiggled slightly as I increased and decreased the intensity and tried to find the position where I could maximise its stimulation on my clit.

Using the toy in such a public space, occasionally biting my lip to stop any little whimpers escaping, was extremely arousing. It felt like I had a dirty little secret, and I fantasised about getting off while surrounded by all the unsuspecting customers… or someone seeing me trying to get off and striding over to pull my dress up and expose what a filthy girl I was. It will be a surprise to none of you that my knickers were soaked with my arousal by the time I got home.

That was the first phase of my experiment. The next was trying it out when someone else held the remote, to see if it was hotter when someone else was in control.

Everything about my first threesome was brilliant, but I did especially enjoy the moment where I was told to put on the butterfly vibrator so we could go out and get food. They checked that the straps were tight and made me hold it away from my cunt (my poor, aching, hadn’t-been-touched-for-a-week cunt) so they could make sure it worked. I’d been given orders that I was to make sure the toy was charged so they could use it on me, and at the moment they tested its vibrations my bratty side wondered what they’d do to me if it wasn’t… but it was, so the game was on.

I’m a big fan of Japanese food but I’m not sure I fully appreciated the deliciousness of the sushi and noodles I consumed that night. The couple I was with passed the remote back and forth between them under the table, so I could only tell from their smirks who was toying with my cunt at any particular moment. They looked at me earnestly with completely innocent expressions, engaging me in conversation as they turned the vibrations up and watched my struggle to form coherent sentences.

They played with me in a way that was humiliatingly hot and they did it in such a delightfully gleeful way. I don’t think they made me order food; something that I’d been looking forward to and dreading in equal cunt-clenching measure. But I wasn’t brave – or stupid – enough to give my tormentors this especially devious idea to make me squirm.

On the way half-hour journey to their house, I sat in the back of their car with my legs spread and begged the mean pretty girl to turn on the vibrator while I made a mess of the seat under me. I loved every humiliating second.

But there’s another element: did you notice that my title says three pairs of ruined knickers? I admit, I may have simplified for the purpose of a clever blog title – the actual number is probably much higher. The results of my experiment show that I found being helpless in public, at the mercy of two cute humans who controlled my cunt, far more fun than just wearing the toy on my own. What’s maybe less clear, from the results I’ve related above, is that I actually found the discussion about being teased as hot (if not more so) than just playing with the vibrator myself.

One of the reasons I’m a sex blogger is that words are powerfully arousing to me and a key part of my sexuality. And as brilliant as our threesome was, I am not sure if it would have been quite as good if it hadn’t been preceded by weeks of flirting, sexting, and discussion of boundaries that built wonderful sexy anticipation. When I was allowed to, I jerked off furiously with lube and my favourite toys while messaging them about the wonderful ways they were going to make me suffer. When I wasn’t, I carefully sat on my hands so I wasn’t tempted to, because I really wanted to. Their words were good, the kind of good that made my cunt clench and made me catch my breath at their sheer hotness.

I think it comes down to what I’d call my biggest kink. Orgasm control is hot, humiliating scenes are hot, struggle-fucking is hot, but the connecting thread in all of these is power play. Having someone in charge, whether I’m fighting against that or being a good girl, is brilliant – and ultimately it wasn’t there when I was ordering dessert from the cute waitress on my date. The element of dominance and submission that I get off on was there through most of our pre-threesome conversations and left my cunt dripping every time.

So, the results of my experiment overall? I love exploring my sexuality alone, but getting to play with others who want to make me blush and squirm tends to result in doing more laundry, because I ruin so many pairs of knickers…

Remember to check out Jadis’s work, and if you enjoyed this piece, buy her a virtual coffee!

Image courtesy of Pixabay.

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.

Antidepressants: My Longest Relationship

As long-time readers of this blog will know, I have depression. Apart from a brief period between 19 and 21 where I struggled along drug-free, I have been on antidepressants for my entire adult life.

A white woman's tattooed lower legs, wearing black high heels and black knickers around her ankles. By Hot Octopuss. For a post on antidepressants and sex.Today, I wanted to share a few true stories about how these drugs, which probably saved my life, have interacted with my sex life with occasionally hilarious, sometimes sad and frequently frustrating results.

That Time I Didn’t Have Sex for 9 Months

A pretty older woman with long flowing hair, wearing a patterned shirt. Sitting at a table with a mug in front of her, smiling into the camera. By Hot Octopuss, for a post on antidepressants and sex.My first go with antidepressants came when I was 18. I was in a horrible corporate job that was basically slowly ripping out my soul. My boyfriend was abusive (though I couldn’t name it as abuse at the time). I was trying to come to terms with my bisexuality. And most of my friends had gone off to university, leaving me isolated and lonely in my hometown. It was a bad time.

I went to see my GP, adamant I didn’t want medication. What did I want? Just someone to talk to, I think. To feel less alone. They told me I wasn’t sick enough for counselling, and sent me away with a prescription for Prozac.

Prozac and Amy, it turns out, are not friends. It took me from depressed to suicidal. It gave me horrible heartburn and killed my appetite such that I lost a stone in a few short weeks. And worst of all, it killed my sex drive. I couldn’t feel anything, I didn’t want anyone touching my body, and I was so sad and exhausted that evenings and weekends were for mindless TV, naps, and the kind of writing that only comes out of me when I’m trying to stay alive,  not for hot passionate sessions or dirty quickies in the kitchen.

During that time, my boyfriend raped me a handful of times, but I didn’t have consensual sex for about 9 months.

That Time I Discovered My Denial Kink

A male/female couple lying on a bed, face down, him on top of her nuzzling her face. By Hot Octopuss for a post about antidepressants and sex.I’ve already written about how I came to be on Citalopram at the age of 21 (be warned if you click the link, it’s not a pleasant story). A few weeks into that saga, my boyfriend (a different boyfriend to the one discussed above, this one even more abusive) and I were having sex. I was rubbing my clit while he finger-fucked me, a surefire way to get me off. And I just… couldn’t get there. It wasn’t happening. My vulva became sore, and then numb, as I kept chasing that elusive orgasm that just. would. not. come.

Loss of orgasm when on antidepressants is, it turns out, extremely common. So why didn’t my GP mention this to me when they gave me the prescription and we discussed possible side effects? Why didn’t the leaflet included with the pills, which I read religiously three times before popping the first one, say a single word about sexual side effects? Probably because our culture doesn’t regard women’s orgasms as important. And certainly not depressed women’s orgasms. So when I asked for help, my doctor essentially said, “trouble with orgasm is the price you pay for not being depressed”. Okay then.

I made it my mission to learn how to orgasm again while on the medication – which, in all other ways, really was helping me! I masturbated until I was too sore to carry on. My partner and I had sex in all kinds of different positions and configurations. Being poor and without access to good toys at the time, I tried with the vibrators I had. But they were too weak to get me anywhere. It took me a month before I finally reached orgasm again, after over an hour with a high-powered vibrator borrowed from my metamour.

During that month, I was pissed off – at myself, at my doctor, at the pills – and frustrated as all hell. But I was also… more turned on than I had ever been in my life. I soon realised that I kind of enjoyed the ache that came from having a really good sex or masturbation session but not reaching orgasm. I liked the submissive feelings I got when my partner came and I didn’t. When he laughed at my frustration during a particularly Dominant moment… woof. And when my orgasm finally reared its elusive head once more, it was the most explosive one I’d ever had.

I was relieved to have the option to orgasm again, of course. But I’d had a taste of something I liked. I started playing with edging and waiting before coming, both in my masturbation and during sex with my partner.

And that, friends, is how citalopram taught me I have an orgasm denial kink.

That Time I Started Coming Off My Medication

A woman's body from behind, wearing jeans and naked on the top half. She has long flowing hair. By Hot Octopuss, for a post about antidepressants and sex.Which brings me to a couple of months ago. Together with my doctor (a new one, who is amazing) I’m working on coming off citalopram. This is because, having been medicated since the age of 21, I don’t actually know what I’m like without it any more. And I want to find out.

The first two weeks on a half dose were hell. I was crying endlessly, arguing with my partner, barely sleeping, and pretty much oscillating between numbness and crushing, unbearable sadness. And, for that period and a little longer while my body adjusted, my sex drive went haywire.

Specifically: I was horny as hell every moment I wasn’t sobbing, but I at the same time I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone touching my genitals, including myself. It was disconcerting and strange to say the least. My body was all “yeah, lets go!” while my brain wasn’t having any of it.

And Now… What Next?

Mercifully, things have calmed down. I’m still on the journey towards coming off the antidepressants, currently on a half dose with a view to cutting down further in the next few weeks. But the effects on my sex life so far have been fascinating.

Firstly, I’m finding I can come more quickly and easily than I used to when I was on the full dose, especially while masturbating. Gentler toys or my fingers can get me off more often and more reliably. I still love my power tool vibrators, of course, but it’s not all about them now. I can have multiple orgasms more quickly, and more often. And I’m enjoying more than ever experimenting with different sensations, and trying out all kinds of new, different and interesting toys.

The Hot Octopuss company logo.

Heads up: this post was sponsored by the wonderful people at Hot Octopuss, who make fantastic and innovative sex toys for both penises and vulvas. Check out their stuff, particularly my personal favourite, the Queen Bee. Images are property of Hot Octopuss and not to be used without their express permission. A banner ad for sex toy company Hot Octopuss, who sponsored a post on sex and mental health

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.

Why I’m Doing “30 Day Orgasm Fun”

It’s April 1st! This means various things. Today is April Fools’ Day. It’s Easter Sunday. It’s one month ’til outdoor fucking starts. But most importantly, it’s the start of Tabitha Rayne’s 30 Day Orgasm Fun not-a-challenge!

A pair of red panties with black spots and a black vibrator lying on a red carpet. For a post about the 30 Day Orgasm Fun challenge.

I didn’t take part last year, mainly because I didn’t find out about it until it was too late, but this year I’m raring to go… as it were.

Here’s just four reasons why I’m taking part (and why I think you should considering doing so, too).

1. For mental health

There’s no two ways about it – orgasms are great for mental health. They flood the brain and body with happy chemicals and make you feel relaxed, de-stressed and ready to face the world. I’ve written before about using sex as a tool to manage my mental health, and I stand by it as the best natural antidepressant there is. I’ve had a shit mental health time recently, so I’m ready to boost my wellbeing with orgasms.

2. To see if I can

It’s a surprise to precisely no-one, I suspect, that I have an extremely high sex drive and tend to masturbate a lot. But every single day for an entire month? That is unprecedented, even for me. I’m partly doing this as a challenge to myself, to see if it’s actually possible and what happens when I do. #DoingItForScience.

3. To discover some new porn/erotica

If I’m going to be getting off every single day in April, I’m gonna need some new visual and literary stimulation. Anna at Frolic Me has kindly given me a subscription, so I’ll be exploring there and seeing what lovely “inspiration” I can find, as well as delving deeply into my favourite sections of Literotica and Tumblr porn. If anyone has any smutty stories or ethical porn favourites, send them my way! Particularly if they include female orgasm denial, cuckqueaning, humiliation, medical play, or any combination thereof.

4. To be an evil bitch

The thing about my orgasm denial kink is that, much as I love being denied orgasms myself, I also love teasing and denying other submissives. There’s someone lovely I’m currently hoping/tentatively planning to play with, who I think I will likely get to deny before this month is out.

The idea of saying “YOU can’t come, but I have to every day this month for the challenge, so get to work” is… quite fucking hot, to be honest.

So let’s go!

I’ve already had my first orgasm of the first day, though I don’t think it will be my last somehow. Incidentally, I’m keeping a spreadsheet of how the orgasm was achieved (toy/fingers/fucking etc) and any interesting facts, which I will publish at the end of the month.

Access some exciting bonus content by supporting me on Patreon, or buy me a coffee to say thanks if you enjoy my work!

Image courtesy of Pixabay, a royalty-free stock photo site.

Masturbation Monday: “Movie Night”

This story is dedicated to Hannah and Tits & Test Tubes. CN for consensual humiliation/degradation play. 

A female-read person's torso, wearing a blue shirt with their breasts exposed.

Jessica snuggles into Sir’s shoulder and lets out a gentle purr as he scritches her head beneath her blonde pixie-cut. From his other side, a moan of contentment from Katie lets her know that the other woman is getting similar treatment. She loves when the three of them are all together like this, her and the two people she loves most in the world. She pulls the blanket up more closely about her shoulders, and reaches across Sir’s lap to place an affectionate hand on Katie’s leg.

As the movie progresses, Sir’s hand moves from petting her head to stroking her arm. She bites back a gasp when it moves to her breast, and keeps her eyes fixed on the TV screen. Sir grasps her nipple through her thin t-shirt and begins to pinch and twist it in just the way she loves. She bits her lip and manages to hold back the moan of pleasure that is welling in her throat. Her cunt begins to dampen.

Jessica hears a whimper. At last, she flips her eyes away from the screen and to the other side of the couch. Sir’s hand has disappeared beneath the blanket, and is moving in Katie’s lap. Katie’s eyes are closed and her lips slightly parted as her breathing quickens.

Katie draws in her breath sharply as Sir’s hand slides up her leg and over the thin lace covering her mound. She tries to contain herself, not wanting to appear too desperate, even though she is. She’s been edging every night for the week leading up to this date and she knows that she’ll be embarrassingly drippy within seconds.

Sir runs his fingers over her cunt on the outside of her knickers, brushing tantalisingly close to her swollen clit, the seat of her longing, but never quite touching it. She feels a wet spot already staining her new panties. She closes her eyes and her head falls back, her toes curling as she tries not to hump his teasing hand. When she does peek over at the other side of the couch, Jessica is watching her with lust in her eyes as Sir’s hand plays with her erect nipple.

‘God, you’re soaked,’ Sir murmurs as his hand moves faster underneath the blanket. The squeal of tormented pleasure that comes from Katie tells Jessica that Sir’s fingers have found her nub and are rubbing it in just that way she likes. Jessica wants to throw back the blanket and watch him fingering their girlfriend’s cunt, but she knows better. Instead she focuses on Katie’s face, on the sounds she makes, and on Sir’s ministrations on her now painfully hard nipple. If only he’d finger her cunt, too…

‘You want this too, don’t you?’ Sir asks her as if reading her mind. Jessica nods furiously. ‘Too bad. You get to watch her suffer and your cunt isn’t getting any attention at all.’

Two of Sir’s fingers slide into Katie’s begging cunt, while his thumb continues to rub her clit. Despite herself, she begins to rock her hips, humping his hand in rhythm with his thrusts into her.

‘Filthy cunt. Gagging for it already.’

Katie can already feel the orgasm starting to well up within her.

‘Sir…’ she gasps. ‘Sir, please may I come?’

‘You know how to ask better than that, slut!’

‘Sir, please can this filthy little fucktoy come?’ 

‘That’s better, but since you ask so nicely… no, you may not.’

The cry of frustrated torment that comes from Katie makes Jessica’s own cunt even wetter. Almost before she realises what she’s doing, her left hand slips under the blanket and into her shorts. She’s brought back to reality a second before her fingers reach her clit by a sharp slap across her breast.

‘Don’t you fucking dare!’ Sir growls at her. ‘Put those hands where I can see them.’

Jessica whimpers, but withdraws her hand and places it in her lap. Sir pinches her nipple to hard it makes her cry out.

‘These cunts get touched when I say they get touched, and not a second before. Got it?’

‘Yes… yes, Sir!’

‘Good.’ He releases her abused nipple from his grip and returns to stroking it unfuriatingly gently with his fingertips.

Katie’s moans are becoming more frantic. She is clearly trying to hold back the forbidden orgasm she so desperately craves. Jessica watches her with a mixture of awe and envy. She squirms in her seat, grabbing a fistful of the blanket to stop her hand from straying once again. She’s so wet she’s sure she has dripped through her shorts and stained the couch beneath her.

‘Fuck!’ Katie thinks. ‘Mustn’t come without permission… must not come without permission… must not…’

Sir pushes his fingers even deeper into her as he continues to caress her clit in circles.

‘Please, Sir!’ she begs as the first waves start to hit her.

‘Please what?’

‘Please let me come, Sir… or please stop so I don’t without permission…’

‘Hold it, cunt,’ he orders, his level voice a stark contrast to her frantic pleas. ‘Control yourself.’ 

Katie summons all her willpower and tries desperately to think of something unsexy, but her cunt has a mind of its own. The harder she tries to pull herself back from the edge, the closer Sir’s skilled fingers push her to it. It’s no good. She wants to be a good girl, to obey, but she’s clenching harder and she’s going to…  

The hand is withdrawn. Katie whimpers as the longed-for orgasm is ripped away from her at the last second. Her cunt throbs and the familiar ache in her clit returns, stronger than ever. Sir pushes his fingers, coated in her juices, into her mouth.

‘Clean your sloppy cunt off my fingers.’ She licks them clean eagerly, tasting her own desperation. ‘God, you’re filthy.’ Sir says. ‘Now get on your knees between Jessica’s legs and edge her for me hard with your tongue.’

____________

 

Original story by me. Prompt image is by Hyacinth of A Dissolute Life Means. Masturbation Monday is a blogging meme set up by Kayla Lords. Click the logo to see what other delicious wank-fodder is floating around this week.

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.