This is a story I wrote a long time ago and had forgotten about until recently.
Its summer and I’ve been working in the garden. Pulling weeds, taking the ripe peas off the vines, watering the broccoli so it doesn’t bolt and planting marigolds by the tomatoes to keep the pests away. It’s almost noon and getting too hot to work. Back inside I have a long drink of iced tea and take a long, tepid shower, trying to cool off.
Once out of the shower I lie down for a rest on my bed wearing just a white tank top and panties. The sun is streaming in and a slight breeze is rippling the sheer curtains. My mind wanders to the last time I had a nap on a hot, summer day. My hands begin to move, almost on their own, to my breasts and I squeeze both nipples, not gently, until I gasp at the pain, less than I can take, but as much as I can give myself.
A breeze brushes by my legs and it makes me aware of how damp the crotch of my panties are. My hand moves to my thigh and my fingers slip under the blue cotton and, as always, I’m amazed at how wet I am. My fingers slide up and down the cleft of my sex, I slip a finger in, then out and up to my clit, which is hard and poking out from under the hood. I pull my panties off, spread my legs wide and begin to pay much needed attention to my wet and swollen pussy.
As I rub my clit and squeeze my nipples, I'm so involved in what I'm doing I don't realize that my roommate, Claire, has walked into the doorway and has been watching me. When I realize she's there, I gasp, half sit up and stop. I pull my hand away from my crotch and close my legs. She moves slowly into the room, her eyes moving from my face to my somewhat concealed pussy. She comes towards me and tells me not to stop.
I’m slow, somehow, to realize she wants to watch me until I notice that her eyes are half closed and that her nipples, under her blue tank top, are hard. She continues to walk towards me and I slowly spread my legs apart again and move my hand back to my waiting cunt. I begin again to move my finger over my clit in slow, tentative circles. She sits on the edge of the bed between my spread thighs, her eyes riveted to the movement. Watching Claire watch me makes me more excited than I could have imagined. Excited and nervous, my attentions to my clit become more focused. I press a little harder, sometimes moving my finger down to my opening to pull up to my clit the needed wetness.
She puts her hands on my thighs, spreading my legs wider and I gasp at her touch. Almost involuntarily I plunge two fingers deep into me as her eyes greedily watch me fill myself. Then, she begins to tell me what a bad girl I am.
“You are obviously enjoying me watching you. What a slut you are. Masturbating for me, giving me this show.”
As she speaks my need becomes fevered.
“You like me to spread your legs apart, don’t you? Helping you to pleasure yourself.” She spreads my legs wider still, pushing them up and back towards my chest.
Claire’s breathing is ragged, her voice deep with desire and lust.
“Get on your knees, slut. Let me see you from behind.” She pulls her hands away and watches as I roll over and get on my knees, pushing my ass up into the air. I put my hand underneath me and continue to masturbate.
And then comes the first smack. First on my right cheek, then the left. Then more short, hard smacks on my ass as I continue to rub myself. I'm moaning and whimpering from the pain of her spanking and the pleasure of my touch. I’m overwhelmed as she punishes me for what I’m doing, but commands me to keep doing it.
“Stop.”, she says suddenly. I almost can’t believe it, but she says it again. “Stop touching yourself. Now!” I pull my hand away quickly.
“Stay right there, just like that. Don’t move, don’t touch yourself.”
She gets up and leaves the room and I watch her retreating back panting, feeling as if my pussy will explode from how swollen and full it is. She returns and I see in her hands she has a huge dildo. Flesh colored and lifelike, she rubs it in her hands. She sits beside me on the bed, smiling as she shows me the toy she’s brought back with her.
“Would you like this in your cunt, slut? Would this fill up that whore pussy of yours?”
Unable to answer with words, I simply moan at the thought of it. I watch as she sucks the cock, pushing it deep into the back of her throat over and over. Then she comes around behind me. I can feel the head of it at the opening to my cunt and without much effort because I’m that wet and open, she pushes it deep inside me. I scream out from the sheer width of it spreading me apart. Slowly, Claire slides the cock in and out of me, fucking me, filling me. I move my hand back down to between my legs and rub my clit as I get fucked with this dildo.
“That’s right. Let me see you masturbate while I fuck you. Let me see you take your pleasure like the dirty slut you are.” Quickly, she plunges the cock in and out of me, as I continue to masturbate. Harder and faster she pushes it inside, fucking me as I rub my clit frantically.
“Harder”, I beg, “Please…”
“You want it harder, you want me to split you apart with this cock, don’t you?”, she says with a little laugh. She pushes it in now so hard I scream and am so close to coming my legs begin to shake.
And she begins to spank me again. She slaps my ass hard, leaving a sting after each. Finally, with the dildo in my pussy, my fingers on my clit and a last, hard smack on my ass, I’m awash with the contractions of an orgasm so strong tears are in my eyes and my legs give out beneath me. My body shakes and my breath comes fast for what feels like a long time.
With the dildo out of me Claire comes and lies beside me, her hand gently rubbing my undoubtedly red, and very sore cheeks. Tenderly, she pushes the hair from my sweaty face, as my breathing begins to go back to normal and my body sags into the bed from exhaustion.
“Good girl,” she says, “You’re a good girl.”
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
New look
I've changed the look of the blog. This better suits my need for space and room. I don't like to be crowded. It also allows for more creativity, on my part. I got the basic layout from "Free Blogger Skins" and I thank them. I changed much of it to suit my own needs. It will be, over time, as tweaked and tugged and tuned as any lucky submissive. But, I am the Dom of this site. Here, I can make the rules and set the limits.
Hope you like it. Now, to continue with the good stuff...
Hope you like it. Now, to continue with the good stuff...
Friday, March 23, 2007
Who is this anyway?
For all the non-readers of this blog who don't read it with any regularity (or at all) you may have noticed I changed my name. And, you may be wondering why. I'll tell you why.
When I started this blog only a month or so ago, I had an Oz theme going on. I'm not sure why. Something about the pot at the end of the rainbow being the elusive prize we're all after. I guess to me, in that moment, the pot represented the manifestation of all of my pent up sexual desires. So, I picked the name Dorothy to go with the theme. I didn't like it then and I don't like it now.
It also took me a while, and why it took me anytime at all is another story altogether, to realize that it's also my grandmothers name. That's just yucky.
I would actually like to not have any name. To just be a blog. But, they don't allow that, so I've been forced to plumb the depths of my psyche and creativity to try to come up with something clever. Because anything less than clever won't do (I have to balance out the banality of "Dorothy").
I wrote down a number of candidate names and they all were destined to remain candidates. Until I fell upon Eve in Chains. This time I'm going with an Eden theme. Eve was, of course, the first submissive. "...yet your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you." - Genesis
I'm not sure that this is clever enough to counter the banality of Dorothy. It may actually just be on par. But, better that, I suppose, than feeling slightly dirty by using my grandmother's name.
I'd also like to mention, for all you non-readers, that the layout will probably change pretty soon, as well. This pink is really getting on my nerves and I find this layout to be too restrictive. So, be prepared.
Well, for now, I am Eve in Chains, but you can call me Eve for short. I'm not worried this will confuse anyone, but if it does, my apologies. And thanks for reading!
When I started this blog only a month or so ago, I had an Oz theme going on. I'm not sure why. Something about the pot at the end of the rainbow being the elusive prize we're all after. I guess to me, in that moment, the pot represented the manifestation of all of my pent up sexual desires. So, I picked the name Dorothy to go with the theme. I didn't like it then and I don't like it now.
It also took me a while, and why it took me anytime at all is another story altogether, to realize that it's also my grandmothers name. That's just yucky.
I would actually like to not have any name. To just be a blog. But, they don't allow that, so I've been forced to plumb the depths of my psyche and creativity to try to come up with something clever. Because anything less than clever won't do (I have to balance out the banality of "Dorothy").
I wrote down a number of candidate names and they all were destined to remain candidates. Until I fell upon Eve in Chains. This time I'm going with an Eden theme. Eve was, of course, the first submissive. "...yet your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you." - Genesis
I'm not sure that this is clever enough to counter the banality of Dorothy. It may actually just be on par. But, better that, I suppose, than feeling slightly dirty by using my grandmother's name.
I'd also like to mention, for all you non-readers, that the layout will probably change pretty soon, as well. This pink is really getting on my nerves and I find this layout to be too restrictive. So, be prepared.
Well, for now, I am Eve in Chains, but you can call me Eve for short. I'm not worried this will confuse anyone, but if it does, my apologies. And thanks for reading!
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Vacation Adventure
“I know what you need.” A disembodied voice whispers into my ear. A loud whisper over the crash and boom of the music playing. I turn around on my bar stool to find a tall, slim man in his late 40’s. He has an angular, oddly handsome face, clear, green eyes and dark hair. And an impish grin that tells me he’s come to play.
“Do you? And how is it you know that?” I ask.
“Something about the way you were leaning forward on the stool. Something about the way you walked to the Ladies room before, and then back. I have good radar.”
“For what?” I ask again. Wondering what in hell this man is talking about, but feeling a little excited that maybe he does know what I need.
“So, when did you arrive?” he asks, an obvious stall.
“Wednesday.”
“What have you been doing? Clearly you’ve been to the beach with that stunning tan.”
“Thank you.” I say with a smile. I’m enjoying his cool delivery. “Lying on the beach, a little shopping, a little gambling in the casino, although I must be very unlucky because all I do is lose.”
“Meet anyone?” And now I think we’re steering back to the topic we’re really both interested in.
“No. A little flirting, that’s about it.” I say.
“But, I’m sure you’ve thought about it. With so many men here.” the word men obviously meant to be quoted. “All these Spring breakers, twenty something’s, I’m sure they’ve caught your eye.”
This last is delivered with a twinkle in his eye. He’s leading me somewhere, but I don’t know where. He wants me to admit to something. Maybe, I think, that’s his fetish. Older women and younger men. Him not being in the latter category any longer. Maybe he wants to watch and thinks he can arrange a little show.
“Well” I give a little laugh “I can’t say I haven’t struck up conversation with some cute boys. But, I do have some morals and am trying to stick to my rule.”
“Which is?”
“That I won’t be with someone who I could have given birth to. So, these Spring Break guys are out of bounds. But, I can flirt.” I say this and turn for a sip of my martini.
“And fantasize.” He says this as a statement of fact. I choke a little on my drink. He’s trying to make his point, but I’m missing it. He goes on. “I’m sure you’ve pictured yourself wrapped around one of these sweet skinned, stamina filled young men. They can go on and on and you want that.” Again, a declaration of my desires. His green eyes are looking into me and I find my pulse is racing a bit. My breath comes a little too fast and I’m hoping to hell I’m not becoming pink in the cheeks. Because he is, of course, right.
I finally decide to call his bluff. “What are you getting at?” I ask with a smile and a laugh. I’m accusing him of something, but since I’m not sure what it is, I think I should treat this as a joke.
“That you’re a naughty girl, under all that cool reserve. Under that dirty martini and clingy dress. You may have your rule, but I’m sure if the right boy came along, you’d break it in a flash. You’ve broken it before.” Again, this said as a statement. And, while a part of me wonders how he would know that, I realize it wouldn’t be hard to figure out that I wouldn’t have to have a rule if I hadn’t already broken it.
And then it comes. Delivered in almost a whisper, his mouth so close to my ear I can feel his warm breath gently moving the hair around my face.
“Maybe you make your rules so you can break them. So you can be that naughty girl. You know, deep down, what you really need, what you really want, is to be punished.”
Bingo!
“You shouldn’t be allowed to continue on with these fantasies of young men.” He pauses, waiting to see if I have any response to that, but I’m flustered. How could this man possibly know what I long for from simply watching me across the bar? Is my need so transparent, I wonder. And worry. But, I’m also not just a little excited. I can feel between my legs the tingle and the dampness of how this is affecting me. “As it happens”, he says, “I have some experience in administering punishment to women such as yourself.”
I croak out, “What kind of woman is that?”
With the little smile he’s worn throughout this entire interaction, not exactly warm, more just amused, and with his eyes not leaving mine, he says, “A slut.”
I gasp and my eyes close in a blink for the briefest moment. A current runs through me from my head to my cunt. A wave of excitement and arousal so strong, I know he knows it. He can’t not know how he’s just affected me.
As I try in my stupor to, rather unsuccessfully, compose myself, I find he’s called the bartender over and is settling up my tab. I still can’t speak, but spend some time straightening out the skirt of my dress and pushing my hair behind my ear. All the while trying to catch my breath, which is somehow caught inexorably in my esophagus. He turns and still with the smile on his lips very gently, but also firmly, puts his hand under my bent elbow and leads me off the bar stool. I know what’s happening, and even as a voice in my head is screaming at me to speak, to stop, to run, I follow his lead. With shaking knees, shallow breath, and so wet I’m afraid I've marked the back of my dress, I allow myself to be led towards the elevators.
“Do you? And how is it you know that?” I ask.
“Something about the way you were leaning forward on the stool. Something about the way you walked to the Ladies room before, and then back. I have good radar.”
“For what?” I ask again. Wondering what in hell this man is talking about, but feeling a little excited that maybe he does know what I need.
“So, when did you arrive?” he asks, an obvious stall.
“Wednesday.”
“What have you been doing? Clearly you’ve been to the beach with that stunning tan.”
“Thank you.” I say with a smile. I’m enjoying his cool delivery. “Lying on the beach, a little shopping, a little gambling in the casino, although I must be very unlucky because all I do is lose.”
“Meet anyone?” And now I think we’re steering back to the topic we’re really both interested in.
“No. A little flirting, that’s about it.” I say.
“But, I’m sure you’ve thought about it. With so many men here.” the word men obviously meant to be quoted. “All these Spring breakers, twenty something’s, I’m sure they’ve caught your eye.”
This last is delivered with a twinkle in his eye. He’s leading me somewhere, but I don’t know where. He wants me to admit to something. Maybe, I think, that’s his fetish. Older women and younger men. Him not being in the latter category any longer. Maybe he wants to watch and thinks he can arrange a little show.
“Well” I give a little laugh “I can’t say I haven’t struck up conversation with some cute boys. But, I do have some morals and am trying to stick to my rule.”
“Which is?”
“That I won’t be with someone who I could have given birth to. So, these Spring Break guys are out of bounds. But, I can flirt.” I say this and turn for a sip of my martini.
“And fantasize.” He says this as a statement of fact. I choke a little on my drink. He’s trying to make his point, but I’m missing it. He goes on. “I’m sure you’ve pictured yourself wrapped around one of these sweet skinned, stamina filled young men. They can go on and on and you want that.” Again, a declaration of my desires. His green eyes are looking into me and I find my pulse is racing a bit. My breath comes a little too fast and I’m hoping to hell I’m not becoming pink in the cheeks. Because he is, of course, right.
I finally decide to call his bluff. “What are you getting at?” I ask with a smile and a laugh. I’m accusing him of something, but since I’m not sure what it is, I think I should treat this as a joke.
“That you’re a naughty girl, under all that cool reserve. Under that dirty martini and clingy dress. You may have your rule, but I’m sure if the right boy came along, you’d break it in a flash. You’ve broken it before.” Again, this said as a statement. And, while a part of me wonders how he would know that, I realize it wouldn’t be hard to figure out that I wouldn’t have to have a rule if I hadn’t already broken it.
And then it comes. Delivered in almost a whisper, his mouth so close to my ear I can feel his warm breath gently moving the hair around my face.
“Maybe you make your rules so you can break them. So you can be that naughty girl. You know, deep down, what you really need, what you really want, is to be punished.”
Bingo!
“You shouldn’t be allowed to continue on with these fantasies of young men.” He pauses, waiting to see if I have any response to that, but I’m flustered. How could this man possibly know what I long for from simply watching me across the bar? Is my need so transparent, I wonder. And worry. But, I’m also not just a little excited. I can feel between my legs the tingle and the dampness of how this is affecting me. “As it happens”, he says, “I have some experience in administering punishment to women such as yourself.”
I croak out, “What kind of woman is that?”
With the little smile he’s worn throughout this entire interaction, not exactly warm, more just amused, and with his eyes not leaving mine, he says, “A slut.”
I gasp and my eyes close in a blink for the briefest moment. A current runs through me from my head to my cunt. A wave of excitement and arousal so strong, I know he knows it. He can’t not know how he’s just affected me.
As I try in my stupor to, rather unsuccessfully, compose myself, I find he’s called the bartender over and is settling up my tab. I still can’t speak, but spend some time straightening out the skirt of my dress and pushing my hair behind my ear. All the while trying to catch my breath, which is somehow caught inexorably in my esophagus. He turns and still with the smile on his lips very gently, but also firmly, puts his hand under my bent elbow and leads me off the bar stool. I know what’s happening, and even as a voice in my head is screaming at me to speak, to stop, to run, I follow his lead. With shaking knees, shallow breath, and so wet I’m afraid I've marked the back of my dress, I allow myself to be led towards the elevators.
Saturday, March 3, 2007
This Orgasm
Kiss me. Push your tongue into my mouth with persistence and intention. Force me to suck it into the back of my throat. Your long, thick, warm tongue filling up my mouth as your cock fills up my cunt. Push in, hard, to the back, as far as you can go, tongue and cock, filling me up. Then a finger, then two, moist with my own fluid, push gently, insistently, into my ass. I’m so full of you I could burst. I will burst, I’ll explode with the pleasure of you in every orifice. Make me take you in like liquid moving to any open space. Every push of every part of you entering me moves in time, as one, as if you’re an octopus and all your tentacles are moving gracefully through the water into the hollow of my open, wanting, moaning self. Push me to the edge. Feel my breath and the urgency of the thrust of my hips onto your cock and know that I’m so close to this orgasm. Your rhythm becomes steady, methodical. Not faster, just even. Push, push, your fingers a bit further, and then a flash, and a throb from what feels like the bottom of my soul and the crash of ecstasy seeps through every pore. My eyes open to see you watch, ride the wave that is me, undulating beneath you. Greedy, I pull in my breath to make it last just a moment longer.
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