Jul 252014

**I was going to skip both Flash Fiction Friday and Five Sentence Fiction this week, but when “fearless” came up, my absentee brain connected them both and I had to write. So thank you, both of the prompters, for inspiration.


Fearless is knowing your limits, pushing to them, but not compromising past your own self-imposed boundaries. To trust in another, to know that even blind, naked and vulnerable they will keep you safe, is bravery or stupidity – or a strange concoction of both; love and lust can blur lines with the coursing of adrenaline telling your brain that this is what you want, who you want. Your heart may beat maddeningly crescendos, your senses may cloud where perhaps all you hear is your thrumming of blood, but still you proceed – albeit a mass of nerves.


Respect is knowing the line drawn in the sand and standing to meet them but not forcing over; it is constantly checking in with the person who has trusted you; it is not judging that person who stands before you with confessed dreams, breathing deeply, nervous and anxious. You may be nervous too, but you are the foundation on which they teeter, on whom they depend on, who provides the safe ground and guides; you are strength, planning, fortitude, yet you are only human and part of that plan is knowing the exit for you both should either of you desire such, so you proceed cautiously.


Flash Fiction Friday Rules:

Keywords: entrance or exit, but not both.

Forbidden words: blindfold, slave, slut

Bonus words: tell us about your first experience with a blindfold or sensory deprivation.

Extra credit: put more than two people in the room, but don’t let the extras touch.

Word count:  150 words from her perspective and 150 from another

Lillie McFerrin Writes
 Posted by at 9:38 am
Jul 242014

I was laying on my stomach after two rounds of sex. My body was relaxed, melting into the bed.

He had left the room, I heard him come back in and shut the door, the bed dipped down from where he sat next to me. Feeling lazy, I didn’t even turn my head towards him. He began rubbing my ass, followed by playful slaps, every so often increased the force to an actual smack. Soft, soft, pat, pat, smack, sting. And again, and then back and forth from one cheek to another, in such a regular rhythm that my heart seemed to beat to his cadence, before changing up the pattern, becoming more unpredictable with more force and less playfulness.

My cheeks were stinging, my ass was clenching and bracing in anticipation of the next spank. My world became smaller until it was just him and me, the stinging heat of my skin, the dampness between my thighs. He halted and caressed so very lightly, occasionally leaned down to breathe on my reddened cheeks. And then his tongue delved into my sex, and I came. He spanked me again, licked and sucked and fingered to orgasm, spanked, and soon no matter what he did, I seemed to cum, and my ass was up in the air, welcoming his touch, his kisses, his fingers sinking inside of me.

He had leaned forward at one point to grab something from off the nightstand, and the hair on his thigh was treated to my slick sex sliding up and down it – even that drove me to pleasure. My thighs were drenched, trembling, by the time he entered me from behind. He thrusted in and out quickly, forcefully, consistently. I screamed and pushed my hips up, meeting him, eliminating any space between us, grinding down and around his shaft. He seemed to hit a spot, move slightly, hit again, and again, so consistently, so hard.

He started telling me when to cum, that I was going to cum again. He told me when I would orgasm, slow for just a second or two afterwards, pushed me back up to another one. “No,” I begged, denying another orgasm.

“Yes,” he stated simply, pushing deeper, fucking me harder. He started counting the orgasms: 1 2 3 4 5…hold….such a long 5. “Down,” he’d whisper, pulling back and moving more slowly. “Again,” and he leaned in more, hit and rub and thrust, count five orgasms, hold me there.

After three times of this, with sweat dripping down his face, dripping dripping down my back, pooling in my arched lower back, my body also drenched and sexually exhausted, I clamped down so hard that I wasn’t allowing him full access, no matter what position he tried. Sure, I was still being pleased, but he felt so close to his own, and he couldn’t get that without full penetration.

Not to mention he knew I was ready to come down for the overwhelming ecstasy that I was experiencing.

He leaned back and I was in a near comatose state, not even feeling grateful for what I took as a respite, not really feeling anything besides my pleasure and exhaustion. “Roll over,” he instructed, and I did. In missionary position, he leaned back and pinched my nipples, instantly bringing me to orgasm and causing me to move against him in pursuit of  my own pleasure.

He spread my legs wide, with knees almost to ears, keeping his arms behind the knees, entered me fully and deeply, hit a delicious spot back in my depths. I screamed, and was vaguely aware of him verbalizing that he was close, that I was going to stay there until he reached his own climax.

His ragged breathing and gasps of pleasure were an amazing sound, the feeling of him tensing into me, and then almost falling against me, before slowing and withdrawing; I ridiculously didn’t think his own orgasm would be accomplished that night, so long had we gone.

With breathing a challenge, I lowered my shaky and stiff legs down, rolled away from him, clung to the side of the bed. He laughed and rubbed my back, laughed again at my sharp intake of breath.

“I won’t touch you, I’ll let you down,” he promised, and moved some hair out of my face. He let me doze for a few minutes, his questioning: “are you okay?” waking me, and we attempted a conversation – him answering questions or just talking, me making no sense and rambling about trifles. “I’ve never seen you this out of it, where you can’t even follow a conversation,” he said. His hand gently caressed my back after a while, testing how sensitive I was, and I no longer gasped for breath, just felt very foggy, exhausted, relaxed, peaceful.

When his fingertips finally grazed my reddened ass cheeks in his caresses, I felt my body clench of its own volition, the skin so very sensitive from the spanking that started it all.

 Posted by at 9:28 am
Jul 222014

TMI Tuesday: Relationships


1. What is the first thing that pops into your mind when you see an attractive person?
Lick them so I claim ownership – just kidding! Normally if my husband is around, I’ll point them out. Or I’ll attempt to have a conversation with them – I like talking and I normally find people attractive (to me) if they’re interesting to talk to.

2. What is your idea of a dream date? Describe the person and the type of date experience.
A light snack and stroll. A full day of words building up anticipation. Hours of rope, domination, orgasms. Cuddled and appreciating each other afterwards.

3. How many serious relationships have you had? Were you in love?
Four, I was in love for some of them. I consider it serious if I’ve lived with them – fighting over who is going to do dishes is pretty serious, in my humble opinion.

4. How many casual sexual relationships have you had?
Far too many to count. Not to mention what counts as a sexual relationship? Yep, far too many to count.

5. What will ruin a relationship for you?
Like BawdyBloke said: Broken trust: lies and psychological games are the biggest turn-off for me. I can’t abide them.

I think communication and trust have to be intact for a healthy relationship. Miss even one of these, and you’re on a slippery slope down. Control is a huge factor for me as well. I’ve had far too many men control or/and try to change me, because what they liked in the beginning they can’t see working in a long term committed relationship – for some stupid reason. And I’ve no idea why anyone would want to control someone they love (unless they both want it) – it changes the dynamic of the relationship and becomes unequal.

Bonus: What is your definition of sexy?
Confidence. A person can look all sorts of ways, but my goodness, confidence gets me so hot.

Image and questions from the TMI Tuesday site

TMI Tuesday blog
 Posted by at 9:18 am
Jul 212014

Once upon a time, a bratty, accident prone rope Bunny met a Rigger who could tie her up in knots. The Bunny and the Rigger spent many blissful hours entwined together, although only one of them was actually bound. One day, the rope Bunny found herself in the tragic position of having a shoulder injury from a car accident. This injury saddened and frustrated Bunny because how then was her magical Rigger supposed to tie her? she could barely do her own bra hooks. Prolonged bondage would now be impossible with the Bunny’s shoulder behind her back.


“Fear not my gimp Bunny!” Rigger consoled, “for there is many way in which we can still have our fun.” The Rigger’s eyes lit up with that special light of creativity and a hint of devious delight that so turned Bunny (the Gimp) on. The Rigger caressed the rope held between his fingers as he gazed at her in a faraway manner. The light of inspiration changed his face and the Gimp became hopeful. Having stood naked while he was in contemplation, Gimp was growing impatient. She brushed her thighs with her fingertips as Rigger slid the first strand of rope around her neck.


The Gimp found herself wrapped much like a mummy, with her wrists tied to the opposite arm. It was ingenious, and quite a comfortable way around the problem. Gimp became the Bunny again as ties such as these allowed her to still enjoy feeling the rope tight against skin, another layer of pleasure as the Rigger brought every nerve in her body to life with his playful hands, his ardent mouth, his wonderful sex.


Some months later, while poor Gimp was still in physical therapy for her tragic injury, an evil pair of stilettos brought her lower still. Crashing to the ground on a foot with an old injury, Gimp once again found herself in the ER, then she found herself on crutches and in yet more bandages.


“I swear you’re doing this on purpose, to test me little Gimp” the slight twitch of his mouth showed that Rigger was teasing as Gimp lit up in a blush. Suddenly they not only had her right shoulder to contend with, they now too had her left foot. The Rigger tsked as the Gimp shifted her stance in guilt and nervousness. The ankle was out – the Rigger couldn’t go near it. The arms couldn’t go behind the back… but there was an additional problem….


You see Gimp was also a brat, a clever, flexible brat who had advanced training in bondage escape due to having two older sisters. The Rigger was not so naive to assume that the Gimp Bunny wouldn’t escape her bonds during her convalescence. After all, it was a bit of cat and mouse between them, trying to outsmart the other.


Using Gimp’s injuries against her while still ensuring safe play, Rigger tied Gimp’s wrists to her calves, steering clear of her ankles by having the ropes above the danger zone. Securing the calves to thighs, and the neck to the whole ensemble, left the gimp looking somewhat as a trussed up rolly polly. A gleeful smile played upon the victorious mouth of the Rigger as the Gimp require assistance to even roll over. The smile was suddenly mirrored on Gimp’s face as Rigger slid inside of her waiting warmth. Her body ready for the pleasure and the pain THEY chose to create, not that which was created by the Gimp’s injuries.

The Gimp Bunny, rolled onto the side with the uninjured shoulder, couldn’t help but to moan in release as Rigger brought wave after wave of pleasure as he drove into her with increasing adore, knowing that he could now use her as he would; she was completely at his mercy and in his control.


*The prompt for this week, which was not participated in, was the Last Tree Standing. See others unique take on this…

Wicked Wednesday

 Posted by at 9:09 am
Jul 172014

FFF – Come Back! – July 17

Key Words: 
One More Time
Word Limit: 
Forbidden Words: 
Professor, Tears, Road
Extra Credit: 
Take off your shirt as you write
Bonus Words: 
Send someone a picture of you writing

He had made his decision … and it wasn’t me. It hurts, my god how my heart breaks and bleeds. We had our one more time, planned. I denied it was the last.

It was glorious, precious memories made, photographs in my brain, warmth for colder nights. I was loyal, I gave him everything, my life so intertwined into his to make his life easier it was an unbearable burden at times.

I played his games; I lost.

And when we parted, I was naked and vulnerable, the reality and sadness finally crept to my eyes. He advanced without me, in her life that was a briar patched minefield of cautious steps that had caused him nothing but grief. It tore at him; I had tried to wrap those wounds and provide a more stable land.

Yet, he walked on.

The ground became haunted between us, already grief in ghosts. He looked back once but continued forward, their fingers intertwined and trapped in each other.

I was muted; I was numb. How can a person love, give so thoroughly, become one and merge so effortlessly then rip and split apart so painfully for something that doesn’t suit them?

We did match, in a way that one foreign eccentric meets another odd peculiar and sees the remarkable resemblance finally. There was no judgment, no perplex, just a knowing that we could be us.

She will continue to tear and mold him until he is unknown to even himself.

I knew him, loved him, accepted him. I found myself in him.

Yet, he remained.

Exposed, helpless, heated, wretched me. Fool that I am, I believed it could be any other way.

He abandoned me so painstakingly I ceased to exist.


**288 words, but I was shirtless while writing this, so the word overage is completely acceptable to me. 

 Posted by at 11:46 am
Jul 162014

Elust #60 Chintz header300
Photo courtesy of Chintz Curtain

Welcome to Elust #60 -

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #60? Start with the rules, come back August 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Shame Hurts

Of Cocks and Cunts: The Language of Erotica


~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

I may never suck another cock, but I’m still

The sofa


~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7

days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!


Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

My Aftercare
YKINMK but My Kink is Not YOUR Kink either
Nerds, Pervs, and Jeffrey Dahmer
Sex Is Simple. That’s Why It’s So Complicated
Cuckolding. The Step Child of BDSM?
What Is A Man’s Role At A CFNM?
Happily whipping Jesus
What are your views on the ethics of kink?
FetLife and The Single Gal
How Porn and BDSM Helped Me

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Tall guys! You’re a bunch of sick perverts!
In Which I Fuck Up and My Uterus Saves Me
Why Is There So Much Shame?
Birds do it, Bees do it…
Little Lower Layer
Wooing, pursuing, romancing a dominant woman
Sexual Freedom. Why Do I Feel I Need to Hide.
Our Age Gap Shouldn’t Be Your Insecurity
Advanced kegel: stroking with only PC muscles
Impress your lover with these oral sex moves

Sex News,Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

The Hashtag Activism…It Burns It!
Sex Worker Etiquette
Rant Break: SCOTUS and Hobby Lobby Rage
Subs Need Classes Too!

Erotic Fiction

A Flight Attendants Secret
Festival car park fun
Private Performance
And The Band Played On
Consequences Part One


A warning for erotic writers and sex bloggers
Bloggy, Soggy, and Sexy

Erotic Non-Fiction

Don’t Ever Make Me Wait Again


Satan’s String – a Lusty Limerick

Writing About Writing

Writing Erotica for Trans Readers Pt 1
ELust Site Badge

Jul 152014

Party Fears


Good News: You’ve been invited to party!
Bad News: You have certain concerns. . .

1) Arrival. Are you afraid (a) that you can’t find the address, (b) that you will be early, (c) that you will be late, (d) other?

2) Clothing. Are you afraid (a) you will be underdressed, (b) overdressed, (c) dressed for the wrong activity, (d) don’t have items that you need, e.g. swimsuit, (e) other?

3) Drinks. Are you afraid that (a) you will drink too much, (b) that you will drink too little, (c) other people will drink too much, (d) there won’t be anything good that’s non-alcoholic, (e) other? They won’t have alcohol I will drink – why I normally bring my own

4) Food. Are you afraid that (a) the food will be too new-fangled and trendy, (b) the food will be conventional and boring, (c) there won’t be anything you want to eat, (d) there won’t be any food and you are hungry, (e) other? There will be sweets that I will be tempted to eat and not enough low-calorie healthy food to help make a healthier choice

5) Music. Are you afraid that (a) the music will be too loud, (b) there won’t be music or you won’t be able to hear it, (c) the music will be of a new genre you don’t like or can’t understand, (d) the music will be boring oldies, (e) other? I like talking and being able to listen to other people

6) Later. Are you afraid that (a) the party will end too soon and it won’t have been worth the trouble, (b) the party will go on too long, (c) other? Not worried about any of the above and can’t think of another

7. Afterward. Are you afraid that (a) you will end up in bed with the wrong person and the sex will be bad, (b) that you will end up in bed with the wrong person and the sex will be great, (c) that you will end up in bed with the right person and there won’t be any sex, (d) that you will end up in bed with the right person who wants sex but you are too tired, (e) other?


How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblogfrom your website!

 Posted by at 9:56 am
Jul 142014

I had surgery a few weeks ago and then a vacation. Surgery was outpatient, and after a week I was feeling more like myself. No big deal.

Except I was a big deal – around my stomach I was distended, I appeared about six months pregnant. Compound with the recent weight gain, and the pregnancy look was completely believable. And I wasn’t getting the gift of child afterwards.

Enter yesterday, when I downloaded the pictures from my travels. So many great pictures with the kids and I, well, I need to crop parts out, because if the pictures are anything to be believed, I am about to give birth. A basketball is easily around my middle.

I didn’t know this strange puffiness was a side effect of the surgery, but even weight gain doesn’t give me weight directly in the middle. I looked it up-yep, it’s from the surgery and may last months. Months.

We went out to an educational – rope play. Due to jet lag, I forgot and put on an underwire bra. When it was time to strip out of it to practice, I hesitated. Apparently it wasn’t for long, as on the way back home my husband commented how he loves my confidence, how I am always willing to bare my body and don’t feel ashamed of it. I confessed I did hesitate, for the first time, because of my strange shape.

I am self conscious and right now lacking the confidence to embrace my curves. I would like to think that it’s because of the sudden onslaught, but in looking at pictures, I cringed at too many. I set myself some goals – healthy eating (it’s been far too long), exercise daily, tracking. I may not be able to control my middle area, but I could at least not encourage growth. Every three days of consistency my husband is to reward me with a focused BDSM session for the next 30 days. And it was effective immediately.

Even though I was tired from travel and the educational, when we got home at nighttime, I changed into workout clothes and put on a yoga DVD.  “Put on your sexy workout bra,” he insisted.

With a sigh and an understanding that he doesn’t see me do yoga much, I did.

“Get naked except for the bra.”

Well, at least he knew the bra was nonnegotiable. “No way,” I protested. “I really don’t want to.” I was already wearing tiny shorts and tank top, already feeling like I didn’t want him seeing me in that.

He came behind me after I set up my mat and kissed the side of my neck, his hands brushed down my sides. “Beautiful,” he whispered, as he gripped the bottom of my tank and pulled it off. “Sexy,” as he pulled down my shorts.

Another sigh, and too tired to argue, I followed the tiny, thin, adorable yoga instructor on screen. He sat in a chair directly behind me, commented from time to time how lucky he was, how his wife was gorgeous and most men aren’t that lucky, and when I was inverted with my ass directly up, I saw him stroking himself.

I didn’t care that I was nine-months-pregnant-naked, he wanted me. A few minutes later, he walked away and came back. “Do you think you can hold these?” he questioned, and I looked up. He was holding my Lelo balls. Honestly, I didn’t think I could while doing yoga and so exhausted, but I shrugged and inserted them quickly. Then continued my yoga, with the faint shaking movement of them inside of me. “So good, thank you.” I tightened during the more complex positions and felt a little upset that he disappeared after awhile. I liked when he watched me like he wanted to devour me, and I was naked with Lelo balls in just for his sake.

When I finished, he called out: “are they still in?”

“Yes,” I hoped the keep the disgruntled out of my voice. Secretly I was proud that I did keep them in – that it was in fact easy. I walked into the bedroom and saw candles lit, the covers stripped down, rope everywhere, felt the Lelo balls rattle with my excitement. “It’s not been three days,” stupid me, why did I have to say that, when I really wanted what was visually right before my eyes?! 

“I get a freebie since I haven’t seen you in awhile,” he insisted.

Oh…that was true. And it would serve as a good reminder to me what glorious motivation would await me every three days. I excused myself to clean up and when I came out his dark eyes spoke of want and need. His fingers spoke how beautiful and cherished I was.

And his brain unfolded a scene he created while I away, opened up new things to be negotiated.

Afterwards, as I was laying on his hot chest, freezing but content, drifting in subspace, I realized that to at least him I am masturbation fodder. He even expressed regret for not taking some photos of how amazing I looked. He sees me as desirable.

I needed that.

 Posted by at 11:23 am