Tuesday, January 18, 2005

One Foot Posted by Hello

Monday, January 10, 2005

One Night (Fiction, VERY Graphic)

She came home that night from shopping, tired, annoyed, ready for bed. The door to her duplex was unlocked. Had she forgotten again? Damn, not smart. With one hand loaded down with bags, half way into her home, she groped blindly around the door jam, trying to find the light.

Suddenly, there is a rough hand over her mouth, another in her short hair, pulling her back into the living room. Distantly, she hears the crash of jars on the tiled foyer floor and the door slams shut. Adrenaline pumps violently through her body, making it hard to breath around the hand, let alone scream. Both arms flail around, trying to catch hold of the hands. A leg trips her up and she’s on the floor, with him above, straddling her hips. She pushes with her legs and hips, but it’s useless, he’s way too big. Both hands are above her head, and he smashes his mouth into hers, blocking any noises and she feels a cord of some sort wrapped around her wrists.

He lets go of her hands and then he’s ripping her thin tank top off. She tries to bring her arms up to hit him, but the angle’s wrong and she can feel him laugh into her mouth. A rough voice growls, “Keep quiet bitch, or you’ll get hurt.” He binds the remains of her top around her head, covering her eyes and nose. An indrawn breath let go. She’s afraid to scream.

In the darkness, she is picked up and a blanket is wrapped around her, head to toes. By the smell she can tell it isn’t one of hers, slightly musky like it hasn’t been used in a long while. There is the sound of a door being opened and closed as she’s carried outside, then pushed into the back seat of a car. The ignition starts and the car is moving.

Several turns and a few minutes later the car stops. She can hear the man get out of the car. Alone, she builds up her courage and begins to struggle with the tightly wrapped blanket, wondering how long he’ll be gone. Hearing footsteps outside a minute or two later, she freezes.

The car door opens, “Tut, tut, not being a very good girl are we?” Blanket and all, she is dragged bodily out of the car and carried inside and dropped to a carpeted floor, rolled out of the blanket. Unable to help herself, she hears her voice, shaky, “Where are we?” Her answer is the clicking of metal on metal and a new surge of fear rushes through her, almost nauseating in its intensity. Something cold and metal touches her ankle, making her jerk, but a strong hand holds her still as she feels a pair of shears cut her jeans off her. First one leg, then the other, along with her panties then her bra. She lays there shivering, bound and naked on the floor as she hears a door close. Then silence.

Breathing hard she can smell some kind of incense faintly. Her hands skitter over her makeshift blindfold, but she doesn’t remove it. Curled into a fetal position she waits for what feels like forever.

Something soft slithers over the skin of her back and ass. It seems familiar, but she can’t concentrate on it, all her other senses straining to figure out where he is. There is a hiss, of something rushing through the air, and then a smack as it, whatever it is, strikes her flesh. First the sting, then heat, then the itch. Over and over again it hits her, not brutally, but hard enough that it’s making her flinch in anticipation. She tries to roll onto her back, but a booted foot on her hip keeps her in place as he works up and down her back, over her ass and down her legs.

As suddenly as it started, the punishing stops and she hears something drop to the floor next to her. The voice above her whispers, “You’re so pretty all tied up… so soft and totally helpless. Such a pretty plaything.” She senses him moving, then she can smell him, he must be very close, an unfamiliar cologne and male. Flesh touches her cheek and the voice sneers, “Open your mouth toy. Suck me if you don’t want to get hurt.”

He presses into her mouth, and she tries to squirm away, but his hand is in her hair, pulling her face onto his cock. She gags but he holds her there, getting harder, enjoying her struggles. After a full more choking strokes he pulls out of her mouth, smearing spit across her face.

Rough hands grab her by the hips, dragging her up onto her knees and elbows, then she can feel his hands on her already stinging ass, fondling and squeezing hard. Without warning a swat, and another on top of the last and she can feel him bite into her soft flesh right where his hand had been. A finger slides across her pussy. He chuckles at finding her wet, and she is, very wet, almost dripping. It shocks her that she is so turned on, has been the whole time without realizing it. He pushes that finger, smelling and tasting of her into her mouth.

“You are such a little slut. Well, I know how to use little sluts like you.” Something pushes into her cunt, not him; it’s too hard and cold to be flesh. It can only be the handle of whatever it was that he’d been hitting her with. She cries out, then gasps, gritting her teeth around a moan. She doesn’t want him to know, despite the fear and pain, how good this feels. Just as she gets to the point where she can’t help herself moving against it, he yanks it out of her.

She squeals as he slides his full length into her pussy. He’s thick enough to hurt as he grinds himself into her, forcing her hips down to the floor. Uncontrolled cries of pain and pleasure burst out of her as he starts driving in, fast, deep, ruthless, battering at her from the inside. Her hips slam the ground with each savage stroke, his cock driving her down and across the floor.

A hand tangles in her hair, lifting her body against him as an arm slips around, squeezing a breast hard. His breath is hot on her face as he pumps from behind. “You’re mine now, you little slut… like you wanted. I own you. I’ll take my pleasure from you as I will.”

Both of his hands slide up and circle her throat firmly. Not choking, but she knows he could, she can feel his strength. And still his cock slams in deeply, never stopping or pausing for even a moment. His breath is coming faster now, and his hands circle her waist, now moving her on him. Lifted up and down, he’s using her like a fuck toy. She can feel sweat, her own and his, streaking her body.

His grip tightens savagely, as he continues pounding, and growls into her ear, ”You know your mine, don’t you bitch, and I’m gonna fill your pussy with my cum.” A hand takes her hair again and his thrusts quicken. Her body is now limp in his grasp, completely powerless to stop him, not wanting to stop him.

She hears him draw a sharp breath, another, then it happens. A molten flood deep, so deep, inside her, again and once more. He lets go of her and she falls forward onto her hands, feeling her own orgasm force his cum out around his cock. Without his hands on her his final thrust pushes her over onto the floor, strengthless, his cum oozing out of her spasming cunt.

Gentle arms gather her shuddering into his lap, and she feels him undo her bonds, then the blindfold. He leans over, placing a kiss on each hard nipple, then her mouth. His familiar voice whispers in her ear, “You were so good. I love you so… my little slut” as he carries her up to their bed.

Finished 1/10/2005

Written with Sir Panther

Monday, January 03, 2005


Well, you seemed kind of pissed last night, and not too interested in talking to me today. Fine. You’re all peachy keen on my ass when I’m coming like a broken slot machine in Vegas but as soon as I start acting like a real human being, all of the sudden I’m not quite so “amazing” or “sexy”. Again, fine. You’re just proving that you are exactly the same as 75% of the men out there. You don’t really want us to have orgasms for our own enjoyment and personal satisfaction, no, it’s for your satisfaction. “I’m a good, considerate guy.” “I’m a real man.” “I’m a stud.” When it doesn’t work you get all personally upset about it, like it’s an insult that this chick couldn’t come. Hello? It doesn’t have anything to do with you. If it really was about us, the women, when we didn’t come occasionally (and sometimes more than occasionally), that would be okay, it happens, no big deal. But it is a big deal to you guys. It is always a huge fucking deal.

The other 25%, they’re the “Wham Bam Thank You Ma’am” guys. Don’t give a shit either way, but you know, sometimes that a relief, no pressure.

I have a little story for you, and I’ve written you in as the main character, so maybe it’ll hit home.

You really like track and field. And this girl you are seeing casually (or girl friend or wife, doesn’t matter) she loves track and field too. Everything should be great.

One day you get to the field and this woman, she wants to do the hurdles. Which would be wonderful, you love the hurdles, but not today. You take one look at those things and you know that there is not a snowball’s chance in hell of getting over them. Pulled muscle, have a cold, they raised the damn things by a foot since last time, it’s all the same result- there is no way you are going over today.

This is not what your little woman wants to hear. She wants you jumping so badly it’s beyond belief, sanity even. She asks. She demands. She begs. You know she is going to be disappointed in you, upset, a bit mad. Deep down you think that she might not even like you as much for not doing this for her, especially if you make a habit out of it. Kind of silly, because today, without God taking a personal hand in the matter, you are going to be on this side of those hurdles indefinitely.

There you stand, feeling lower than a trod on piece of shit, but what can you do? That seems to be the end of the story. No. There’s a punch line.

You see, this girlfriend of yours is blind. Strangely enough all your girlfriends both love the hurdles and are blind. If you want, you can tell her that you jumped those hurdles, and she’ll believe you whether you did or not. Absolutely she’ll believe you, contrary to even blatant evidence to the contrary. She’ll believe you because she desperately wants to believe. She’ll believe you’ve jumped back and forth across the hurdles like a Goddamned jack rabbit, if that’s what you tell her. Her self-esteem apparently demands it, so she’ll believe.

Keep in mind that this situation comes up very regularly and with every bloody woman you meet. You know lots of guys are not making those hurdles and are lying to their stupid, blind, hurdle-loving girlfriends as a result, even the really good athletes.

So do you lie to her or not? Think about it.