Thursday, July 19, 2012

The Real Purpose of Cruise Control...Masturbation

After an evening of rope play (I rigged the rope) with a newbie and a pretty fun make-out session (Yes, only a make-out session...I know, so scandalous!) with a new dude-friend I was having some serious wetness issues and some serious sexual congestion. We girls don't get blue-balls but we DO get sexual congestion and it can be just as serious. I had to take things in hand - literally - and I was not going to wait the thirty minutes it would take to drive all the way home.

I could feel how wet I was even as I walked to my car, my cunt-lips slipping as they rubbed together with each step. At this point my panties were more of a problem then a help and as I went to sit down in the driver's seat I actually had to make a fist and moaned to keep from crying out as my bottom met the seat.

I hit the road with the taste of his lips on mine and the memory of the feel of skin on skin while I reveled in the delicious tension that had been fueled over the course of a few hours. I felt a sense of self-mastery for not giving in.

I told him, "I'm not a prick-tease for the sake of being a prick-tease...there's a purpose."

His response was quiet, "I hope that eventually I come to know this purpose."

It didn't need an explanation, he could have felt it if he had taken the time - it's the build up, the pressure, the tension. The next time he hears my voice, thinks of me, or remembers the smell of my hair he'll be brought right back to that place and to that need. His body will remember what I didn't give it and what it still craves, what it would beg on bended knees for.

He will be tight as a bow string.

My body was as tight as a bow string, the lights of the night at 1 A.M. whizzing by as I sped down the freeway, music blaring (Garbage) and my mind a bottomless pit of desire.

There was construction and police lights every few miles as the 6 lanes were whittled down into 1 by cones and tired men in atrociously yellow vests. I bit my lip and looked out the side window as I unzipped my pants and slid my hand down into that darkness, unseen by anyone. I moaned out loud to feel the extent of my wetness - the river Lethe could not compare. I closed my eyes for a mere second but when the car swerved a tiny bit the left they flashed open in an instant.

"Fuck!" I yelled out in frustration.

It took about 0.6 miles to remember that I had a tool at my disposal - cruise control, yeah baby.

I clicked the little bottom and locked into number 65. My hand once again dipped down into the shadows and my fingers gladly met with that sublime moisture, my lips, my swollen clit. My fingertips slid easily on the soft flesh of my pink folds and my head pressed and rolled against the headrest. My mind went to the memory of his lips on my neck, his hands on my waist and I gave into the pleasure of my touch.

One hand on the wheel, one hand in my pants I teased myself and giggled, unheard.

The road widened out again and I sped under an overpass, my eyes on the construction workers toiling under the glare of their work lamps. I could not help it any longer as I stared at the reflective paint on the road and I was brought back to him kneeling before me, my back against the wall and his mouth kissing my cunt through my silky red panties. Smelling myself as his tongue explored the soft slip of my wetness that has soaked so completely through the thin fabric.

He wanted so much more...he wouldn't get it.

What can I say? I love a good power trip.

I watched the tail lights glow ahead of me as I put my left foot up on the dashboard, my hair in my face now from sliding down in the seat just a little bit. My mouth open and my breath heavy as I touched my clit now with purpose - I needed to cum or I would die.

I smelled my sweet, dark odor and moaned to myself, thinking about how I could not be seen as I looked to my right and a Civic one lane over I remembered his breath on the lips of my cunt, hot even through my panties and I came so hard I screamed out in the dark...once, twice, three times all in succession.

I didn't swerve once.

My laughter filled the car as I brought my cunt-moistened fingers to my mouth and tasted and smelled of myself feeling like a badass, still rolling in the pleasure of my shattering orgasm. My breathing normalized and I could feel my heart slow its incessant pound.

As I rolled another 15 miles down the road the smell of my sex was inescapable.

Big win.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Another Year, More Candles

Today I'm 23...a long way away from where I was when I was under the big 1-8 and letting hot men over 40 tongue-fuck me on kitchen counters, office desks, and just about anywhere I could manage.

I still love a good tongue-fuck and I adore me some older men but my evolution has been vast in the past 5 years. I favor the company of ladies mostly with a few very, very lucky men ending up balls-deep. My home right now is more in the fetish and BDSM communities while I learn and grow in this role of Dominance and play.

The race is long and it's usually with play with somebody to make it a little more fun.

Happy Birthday to me.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

An Apocalyptic Romance /Part 1

The gloom settles as she walks the sidewalks of the crushed city, her shotgun level with her shoulder and ever alert and ready for doom to fall once again. The moon shines down blue light over the heaped, burnt out cars, remnants of buildings, the occasional blackened remains of human bodies, broken glass, and spent ammunition shells littering the ground.

It is a landscape she never expected to have to see, one she never expected to call home if one even could do that anymore.

One of my beloved gas masks.
(Not to be used as stock, image under copyright)

Her pack is heavy though the weight of it and her ammunition belt is comforting, it means she has things to rely on, weapons and food, a few extra articles of clothing not ripped to shreds or covered in blood. The gas mask she wears on her face has become like a second skin; there's no telling if the gases have abated since that dark morning when her country blew itself apart.

The wind blows a piece of tattered tarp hanging over a chain link fence and she lines her site up with it when it's movement alerts her. She sighs and lowers her gun as she relaxes, almost disappointed it wasn't one of those bastards she had come to love shooting holes into. After the blasts, bombs and gassing, the military and police officials were practically the only ones left and they had the weapons, power, and drive to take anyone down in order to steal what they needed to survive. "To serve and protect.", yeah right. More like "To murder, rape, and destroy."

She hadn't seen another "real" human being alive in over two weeks and the last time she had, the guy had tried to  smooth his way into her good graces before trying to bludgeon her with a 2 x 4 and take her guns. He lost the fight and she had even gotten a pretty good shiner and a semiautomatic handgun out of the scrap.

'Sorry man, hope the bullet I left between your eyes doesn't leave you with too lasting a headache.'

Kills so far, 23 "officers" of the law and 7 "real" human beings. It wasn't exactly a walk in the park to blow someone's brain stem away but if it meant keeping her life then she would do it.

'I may have delicate hands but a trigger is only a little bit longer than an inch.'

That was their mistake, they underestimated her because of a few factors; she was young, a woman, and she was alone. What they also failed to understand that is was the fact that she was alone that had kept her alive for so long, it had been terrifying the first few days but after a while the solitude had shown her she didn't need anyone as a crutch to survive.

It hadn't been the most fun part of her life but it hadn't been the worst, she did miss her friends and her family, her comfortable bed. Surviving something so horrendous as the Almost-End of the World had really shown her how much she did value her life, the air in her lungs, and the way the sun looked so clean in the morning just after rising through the drifts of thick, mud green smoke.

Her watch beeps. Another hour had passed which meant screwing in a new filter to her mask. The air in her lungs was only breathable if the filters held out. She makes a note to forage for some extras and began a look out for military supply trucks; the five in her pack wouldn't even finish out the night.

She steps around a corner and as she does she hears the familiar sound of a rifle being cocked, she immediately crouches down behind a burned out Buick with some toasty looking skeletal remains seated inside.

She carefully looks around the back end of the car in the direction of the sound to find a guy sitting on the curb on top of a huge pack cleaning a hunting rifle. He has on a black tactical uniform like the Feds wear but he had a white (well it used to be white) armband with a medical cross on it. She had come to find that the medics were much kinder than just the regular grunts running around out there who wished nothing more than to use your body as a warm place to stick their cock for a few minutes before blowing your brains out and stealing your gear.

The lenses of his mask are smudged so badly with grease that she could barely make out his eyes. She edges out from behind the car a little bit more to get a better look when he suddenly looks up,

"Hey there. What's cooking?"

She readies her shotgun at her shoulder and stands slowly, keeping him in her sights,

"Nothing much cowboy, just taking a moonlit stroll. You military?"

Still he sits without the slightest inclination to arm himself against her hostile movements, he just sits there looking at her while he tapped the butt of his rifle tonelessly.

"I'm a corpman, so sure, that's military. Why do you ask? Wanna start a war or something?"


He laughs inside his mask, the noise of it sounding like waves from the distortion of the sound within the rubber. She doesn't laugh. Without lowering her weapon she takes a few steps cautiously toward him, her boots crunching on broken glass, shrapnel, and other detritus.

"So you have name? You hostile?"

"Gregory. I'm only hostile if someone else is hostile, seems to me anything else is excess. You?"

"I'm right there with you Gregory, the names Ace."

"Ace? Like the bandage? That's a pretty tough name you got there, sunshine." Again he laughs.

"It's a nickname and no, not like the bandage. Thanks."

She becomes a alert when he reaches down toward his pack,

"Don't move! I have you fixed, I will pull the trigger!" She blinks only once but keeps her eye peeled and directly on him, her finger eager on the trigger.

"I'm just getting you something, something you seem to need."

"I don't need anything, stay still!"

He ignores her and reaches futher down, unzipping a pouch on the outside of his bag. She shuffles forward, her gun pointed directly at his head,

"Drop the weapon, drop it!"

He laughs, then holds out his hand, offering her something in his open palm. She looks down at a bar of chocolate. She relaxes and lets out a small laugh, lowering her gun.

"You seem like you could use something sweet."

"I bet you use that line on all the ladies, huh?" She takes the chocolate bar and stows it in the pocket of her vest.

"Nah, just the ones that point shotguns right in my face and yell at me."

She smiles and reaches out her hand to him, and as he shakes it, two things happen; she realizes how long it's been since she's laughed and then hears a gun shot before seeing Gregory's face explode in a starburst of blood, skulls fragments, and flesh.

She has seconds before she can drop to the ground behind a shipping van, her face, arms and chest covered in blood spatter and unintelligible globs of human matter. Her breathing quickens as does her pulse and she lines her gun up with her eye as she lays on her stomach on the ground, she sees two pairs of feet in beat up sneakers running toward her, the sounds of their clanging packs and ammunition ringing in the air.

"Come out girlie, come play. What were you saying to your Jarhead friend there? Are you civilian? Grunt? Come out!"

She immediately hates him for his voice and listens attentively as they come ever nearer to her. She keeps the feet in her sights but if she's going to waste a shell or two they had better be toward kills, not just wounding some son of a bitch on his big toe.

"I know you're there, I shot that fuck and let you live. I thought you might be a little more fun to get to know."

'Oh great' she thinks, 'another horny fuckface who thinks her purpose in life is to let him stick his unimpressive pecker in me.'

She shifts her weight and kneels up, trying to be a quiet as possible. She stands quietly and leans her back against the truck and side steps closer to the front end of it. She looks out cautiously through what used to be a window to see one teenage idiot without a gas mask wearing tactical armor with a shredded t-shirt pulled over the top and a semiautomatic machine gun pushed into his shoulder, the sight obscuring his face.

'One idiot? I thought I saw two pairs of feet?' she thinks to herself before feeling someone's breath on her neck,

"Hey bitch, you lonely?"

Before she can even think, he has her shoulders pinned to the side of the truck as her gun hits the pavement, and his mouth is on her neck as she struggles and curses ni his face. She screams out as he yells to his buddy,

"Come on dude, I got her!"

Footsteps sound as the little prick pinning her to the truck bites the top of her breast through the t-shirt she wears under her bullet proof vest. His saliva runs down her cleavage and makes her squirm in disgust. She growls at him as his buddy rounds the front of the truck,

"You bastards are going to regret this, stupid fucking kids!"

"Yeah whatever, shut your fucking mouth before we fire a bullet down your throat." The other says before pulling out a knife.

After pulling her pack off of her back and throwing it to the ground, he pulls loose the straps of her vest and rips it off, leaving her even more vulnerable. He uses his knife to cut into the neck of her t shirt, cutting all the way down through the fabric before it falls open, revealing her breasts snugly held in a black bra. His toothy grin instant makes her want to rip that satisfied smile right of his greasy face.

The first boy pulls duct tape from a roll hanging from rope tied to his belt and tapes her wrists together above her head before pulling her over to the street sign a few steps away. Using more tape he secures her wrists to the pole, before slapping her across the face illiciting an angry scream,

"You fucker! What is your fucking deal?"

They laugh as they come closer, their greedy hands on her body as she shouts curses at them. Her voice going hoarse, Ace kicks at one in the crotch, making him go down on his knees while the other pushes his blade against her throat,

"Hey bitch, you pull another move like that I and I will slash your fucking throat; we don't need for you to be alive to get off."

She shudders in disgust but pulls back against the pole, consigning defeat for at least the time being. The boy she kicked is still on the ground holding his wounded pride but the one with the knife drags the tip down her cleavage as he lick her neck. Feeling his warm breath against her throat sickens her but she tries to remain cooperative. Raped isn't dead afterall, if they keep their word that is.

She closes her eyes and moment later hears two gun shots near to her hit their targets. When she opens her eyes, a girl with short red hair is smiling at her. The boy groans from the pavement,

"Would you excuse me for a second?"

She smiles at Ace before crouching over the boy laying on the ground,

"What can I help you with? Does it hurt? It should you disgusting pile of filth."

She cocks her handgun and puts one bullet into the side of his brain before turning back to Ace with a warm smile,

"So now that that is all taken care of, let's see about your wrists."

As this red haired savior leans toward Ace, their skin touches and she looks down into her eyes. She smiles and the moon catches in them and the glow calms Ace and makes something flutter deep within her.

"Oh god, you're bleeding. We'll have to wash and dress your cuts when we get back to The Hole. You'll be more than welcome there, and safe too."

Her pocket knife catches the tape and frees Ace, the relief a welcome to her aching arms and rattled mind. As she rubbed her soon to be bruised wrists, the girl with the red hair grabbed up her pack, vest, and shotgun from where they had been thrown by the dead men.

"By the way, I'm Elle. You have a name?"

"Oh yeah, sorry...I'm Ace. Thank you so much, I can't even begin to even..." Cutting her off, Elle intones,

"It's ok, that was a pretty shitty thing to have to go through. I'm just glad I saw you down here. I was up in what's left of the hospital looking for whatever, you know? I heard you screaming and popped my head out the window." With a smile she helped Ace into her vest and pack before handing over her gun.

"Again thanks...."

As she steps off the curb she stumbles, her heavy boot catching the edge of the cracked cement. Elle reaches out, grabs her by her pack and takes hold of her hand, steadying her. As Ace looked over to her right, Elle's huge clear eyes shoe back and her and she's caught breathless by the glow she feels deep within her. She smiles in spite of herself and as Elle smiles back she forgets for a moment that she's standing in a graveyard of a world that was nearly dead. She feels lifted from all the mayhem and ugliness.

"I guess you're not so steady, not that I don't blame you. Here, give me your arm."

As she takes Ace's arm and they began the walk to The Hole, Ace thinks that there's was change in the air, though she isn't quite sure what that means.


Monday, January 10, 2011

Thursday, January 06, 2011

Bight Me

Rope + Girl + Me + Friends + Fudge = Fabulous

A not-so-HD camera phone shot of us playing (I dyed my hair!)

For those of you who didn't know, I am quite the fan of rope. Having grown up on boats on the Pacific coast of our wonderful country I have felt comfortable around the heft, weight, and tension of ropes from a very young age. When I become more interested in rope in the beginning of last year I began playing with it and found myself quickly drawn into it. Now I have over 500 feet of assorted ropes like natural hemp, sisal, and nylon. 

This night was amazing, we got to learn (and teach) some new techniques in a comfortable, close group of friends but even better than that, I tied my girl up and messed with her. I used a chest harness and attached her ankles which had been tied in a two-column tie and left the free of her ankle tie free so that I could reel her in an out, adding and subtracting the pressure on her bonds and her body while the ball of my foot rubbed her clit from the outside of her pants....yes, it was fun.

Oh, and we had peanut butter fudge made by a friend of mine which may seem like a small detail but it was so delish! Candy + Rope = Love.

Thursday, December 09, 2010

Christmas Bitches

Merry Christmas to you all from my girl and I.

Yes, that's all I'm posting.....cuz we're too busy fucking.

So yeah...anyway...Merry Christmas!

My girlfriend is a about a foot shorter than I am. She wears heels sometimes, but then again so do I so....hmmm.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

I Love Her

After many years of fearing the fact that I had desires toward women that were way deeper than just wanting to get them naked and have my way with them, I finally let all that go and opened up a new chapter in my life.

Our lesbian toothbrushes kissing. Sickeningly adorable, I know.

Of course I had loved sex with men; my life has been punctuated and written all of sex with men, being possessed, ravaged, fucked upside down, and even raped but any emotional connection was so forced, so tedious, and so much work. I did love Gadget, I did love Trigger, I did love Horns but something was never quite realized in that love.

I have dreamed night and day of women's bodies, their faces, their mouths, their voices in my ears and even more lusty fantasies since the age of 8 and always dismissed it as just a sexual curiosity and spark. It just wasn't so and I had lied to myself for so long.

The time is over for lying to myself, for fear and loathing, and for denial and grief.

After so many years of confusion and forcing myself to be straight, (or straight-ish at least) I met her, Kangaroo. Her green eyes, her blonde spiky hair, her weird little gorgeous lips, and the hands that are even smaller than mine (a first in my life!).

I love her.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Blood, Gore, & Tits

So October is the month that we're all allowed to be a little more creepy, dark, and evil because lovely Halloween is the finishing move of the month. My girl Kangaroo and I really went wild with some blood (real or fake, you decide) in white lingerie and not only did the shots look fabulous but the shoot made my kitten so very wet.

Happy Halloween!

Monday, October 18, 2010

Thursday, September 09, 2010

Waffle House, Corsets, and a few Big Bites

So you've been clubbing and it's 3 am so where do you go? Waffle House apparently.

This was obviously taken well BEFORE all hell broke loose.

I refuse to wear regular clothing of course so I was clubbing in black hot pants, black transparent tights, knee high boots, and a teal silk steel boned corsets with my hair down and wild.

This is what I'm wearing when I waltz into the WH with my drunk friends (I mean I was drunk too so perhaps I shouldn't be so judge-y). Not only that, but I was bruised as all hell all over my neck and shoulder from my buddy Ink biting me with his full power. I loved it, but the waitress thought I was probably some kind of drunk, battered, Meth-ed out hooker on her mid-evening break.

Well, so much for being good cuz last night I was very, very, very, very, very bad.

Monday, August 09, 2010

Thursday, August 05, 2010

Sweet Cupcakes

So you know how I'm totally obsessed with cupcakes? How about 9 girls in sexy lingerie kneeling and smooshing, rubbing, and throwing cupcakes on and at each other? Does it make it it even better to know that they also rip each other's bras and panties off and then slip around in the icing and cake all over themselves, falling into a huge heap?

I'm not even kidding and it makes me so giddy it almost hurts....this is my REAL life! Yay! <3

Did I also mention that this is for a juvenile AIDS charity? Yes, naked, icing covered girls playing outside for charity. Anything is possible in life when you have an imagination like mine.

La petite and some double (and triple!) doses of sugary love!

Monday, July 26, 2010

The Monday Buzz: Invisi-Vibe Panty Vibe

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Thursday, July 22, 2010

Boy Beater

My life in the BDSM lifestyle has really come full circle in the past seven years. I started out as a timid model and submissive and have now found my stronger persona within the darker circles of sexuality.

I identify as a Dominant who will occasionally bottom privately, I no longer serve anyone but there is still a lingering soft spot for the sensations and mindsets of one being beneath another. I don't live for that sense of loss of self but it is still there behind most everything else and occasionally peeps its little head out.

Vintage image via 

I think this realization came so late because I just let myself fall into a role someone decided for me; the role of being the one who serves. As a woman, it is the more prescribed of any of the roles in life and it did feel natural for a very long while. There came a day when I felt less like only pleasing someone else and more like I had accumulated enough knowledge and strength to possess someone myself and have them feel all that I had before.

I had never gotten as worked up over Fem Dom porn as I did this past Fall and circulating more and more among those who not only encouraged my learning and self discovery but also saw something more in me than a girl who just lets things be done to her.

In life I am a leader, I get things done and I make my voice heard. I take initiative and am never too shy to talk to anyone. I feel that my sexual prowess and energy make others feel that I am an intimidating young woman and on some level I've always felt it deep down. Nearly my entire sexual journey has been about manipulating men (not all manipulation is bad!) and seeing how far I could push myself and others.

I thought that these characteristics just made for an interesting side-note on resume of a submissive women when they were more like the telling points of my actual place in life and in the BDSM world at large.

I'm a caring, genuine person and when you are my friend I will do anything to help you out so when people find out certain things about me, such as the fact that I like to embed needles into people's skin and then lace them together like a corset it boggles most people's minds. The embodiment of the female energy is that of duality and I definitely have it in spades. I'm light and dark, sweet and spicy, and sweet and evil, all at the same time.

Isn't life wonderful?

That being said, my new boy Scene is such an amazing gift in my life. I love him and worship him while all at once I feel a very powerful drive to Dominate him, hurt him, and bring his mind to amazing new places.

We had a scene this week where he was in sub-space long before I ever started applying any pain of any kind. He amazes me and while he's still very green to the lifestyle of kink, his desire to be mine completely drives me wild and endears him to me like no one before him.

When I began to find my place in the lifestyle at 15, I had this very well defined distaste for submissive men, thinking that since they couldn't fulfill what I believed to be their "proper" gender roles that they were less than worthy of respect. I have found in the past few years that this is absolutely not true. In many ways a submissive man has a lot more pain and trials to work through before he can finally find himself in the lifestyle. To go against all of the constraints of your upbringing, sex, and societal pressure is a truly incredible feat of daring and determination to be sure.

The man who finds himself softened and willed to bend to the desires of his woman is truly an amazing man indeed. The pleasure and satisfaction that can be found is such submission is the most tantalizing of all and I feel blessed to have his heart and mind in the palm of my hand.

Monday, July 19, 2010