The Blackboard

It was a thunder crack when he smacked her, then a still moment as the world went silent, then lightning behind her eyes. Everything vibrating and swimming. Blood rushing in her ears, her face heating and turning red, her vision blurring, and then finally his face coming back into focus.

He was right in front of her, filling her line of sight, his hand closing back around her neck.

Rope made her strong. Her muscles stayed tense, always fighting against her bonds, never resting, never giving up, even when she knew how good his knots were and how well he knew her wiggling ways. She would show him.

They sat on the blond parquet floor, both cross legged, her back against the cool eggshell wall. He sat in front of her, just as straight backed as she was, facing her, their knees touching.

Next to them was a thick metal radiator and above it the window, with a splash of blue sky visible from their vantage. A little late summer breeze tickled her sweaty naked skin.

She wore nothing, except for the little blackboard. It was about the size of a composition notebook, smooth wood framing a rectangle of dark gray slate. On the surface were two short stark white lines.

Her feet were tingling from the position she was in. Her arms were behind her back, wrists tied together. The little blackboard hung from a coarse piece of twine that she felt cut into the tender skin of her nape.

She was confused and wanton. Her head spinning, her body nothing but the begging need to get fucked, her brain nothing but the compulsion to get his questions and rules and instructions right.

"And so why did you think it was okay to come this morning before work?" he asked, one hand on her throat and the other holding a piece of chalk.

She blushed, on top of the blush that was already there. There were so many rules in place, rules she had requested, about when and where it was okay to come. She tried to remember the email he had sent about what to do the mornings before she saw him.

"I don’t, I-" she started to answer but he cut her off, taking his hand off her throat just long enough to smack her hard across the face again.

He marked the chalkboard with one more short white line.

She didn’t know what the lines represented. He’d just tied her down when she got to his apartment and started asking her questions and slapping her and it was all so much. So many feeling. She felt like she was going to burst, but she couldn’t because he wouldn’t let her. She could even wipe away the tears because her hands were tied.

The chalk marks could mean hits with the cane or orgasms or something horrible she couldn’t imagine. He might opened that closet of his and take out anything.

He took his hand off her neck and stood up in front of her. His knowing fingers on his thick black leather belt. His zipper meant his cock would be in her mouth soon. She swallowed quickly, trying to wet her dry lips.

There was a rush when she was going to suck his pretty cock. It was like nothing she had felt for a cock before. When he finally pulled it out, she smiled because it was hard. That meant, even if she didn’t know what she had done right, she was making him hard and that was a little victory.

He held her by the hair, cock millimeters from her lips. She whined and tried to connect. She pulled against the fist holding her hair and her scalp burned, but she just wanted it. She wanted it more then his rules at that moment. She pulled and cursed under her breath.

"Just-please-fuck-just let me-" she pleaded.

Then the lightning and thunder again. Two quick slaps. Vague recognition of two more marks on the chalk board.

"For language," he remarked coolly.

But more than the fear of what the marks meant was the sadness that his cock was gone, never touching her lips.

"Let’s start again," he said, sitting.

She didn’t even know what game they were playing anymore. The questions were all nonsense. Her whole body was on fire with need and shame. She rocked back and forth on the floor and let out a long wail of frustration.

Which lead to another slap and another mark on the board.

Preview: The Revenge of BatCatGirl

I’m super excited about this new short story I’ve been working on! It has the rather ridiculous title of “The Revenge of BatCatGirl.” The first draft is just about done, so it will be a little while until the final edited product is ready for public consumption, but I can’t help but post a tidbit.

It’s silly and pretty real and gets really fucking hot. So here is a bit of the first part. Let me know what you think.

Part 1: The Negotiation

Kay stood in front of the full length mirror and slowly slipped the Batgirl Underoos up her freshly shaven legs until they were half way up her thighs. She paused, looking at her reflection. She was naked except for the purple and gray fabric suspended between her open legs. Her fingers moved over her dark brown skin, pausing to touch at a tiny stretch mark on her hip.

What the fuck was she doing?

She pulled the comic book themed underpants the rest of the way up, watching the very naked looking triangle of her recently hairless pussy get replaced by a little yellow bat symbol on a swath of boy-cut whimsy.

The t-shirt went on next. It was purple and gray like the panties, with very short sleeves. It was far too tight over her bra-less chest and it didn’t quite cover her torso completely. A thin embarrassing line of belly shown between the shirt and the panties and she pulled at both to cover it. In the center of the shirt, right between her breasts, was another bat symbol, this one slightly stretched.

She felt like an idiot.

Was she really trying to be a little girl? She was thirty years old. She had five gray hairs and big tits and little wrinkles starting to form at the corners of her eyes. She wasn’t a little girl. She had thick hips and a big ass and a career. She was a full grown woman who was stuffing herself into silly little kid clothes and the most confusing part was that it was making her wetter than anything she could remember.

She picked up her phone for the hundredth time that morning and looked up his list again. How could a bullet list make her blush?

The worst part was that she had asked for all of it.

Rules

My personal rules for writing erotica this summer:

1. Do not play out actual power dynamics (dissimilar ages, teacher/student, boss/employee, experienced/non-experienced) and instead write about created dynamics between peers

2. Explore negotiated (even if implied, inferred, or prior) BDSM instead of scenes of coercion or force (even if obviously fantasy/metaphor)

3. Write about characters of diverse body types, gender presentations, and especially races

4. Stay away from both white-centric language (i.e. idealizing pale skin, pink parts, etc) and not using “colonialist” type descriptions of skin tones (i.e. ivory, chocolate, coffee)

5. Write beautifully, descriptively and in an unrushed manner. Create tension. Write poetically without fear.

6. Seduce the reader. Make them squirm. Make them physically react.

Excerpt from an Untitled Thing

"This isn’t exactly how I thought it would go," he said with a nervous laugh like a cough. 

With wickedness in her eyes, Kay smiled her toothy grin and tousled his hair. 

“Oh no? Do you want to stop?” she teased, moving her hand down to his throat. 

"N-no sir, I mean, ma’am, I mean what do I call-" he said, his cock now hard and bobbing against his stomach as he tried to squirm out of her choke hold. 

"Sir sounds pretty when you say it, why don’t you stick with that."

Emma kneeled next to them, her eyes huge as she watched. 

"Doesn’t it sound pretty when he says it?" Kay asked Emma, who nodded emphatically. 

Kay took Alec by the hair again. 

"Now are you going to suck my cock like a good boy?" she said through her clenched teeth. 

His whimper was like that of a hurt puppy. His cheeks were on fire and his face twisted with confusion. 

“Don’t be scared. How about just a kiss to start? That would’t be so bad would it?” Kay said, her hand moving to his face, nails digging into his cheek.

He swallowed and she forced his head around, his lips inches from the thick purple cock. 

He licked his lips, animal fear in his eyes. 

Emma moved closer and pressed herself against both her boyfriend and Kay. 

"Just kiss it, Alec," Emma whispered into his ear.

“Kiss it once for me,” she said and let her lips brush against his neck. 

He closed he eyes and his lips touched her cock. Kay felt an electric shock shoot from her crotch up her spine. 

He seemed to be trying to hold himself back, but once his lips touched it, the animal instinct was let loose. He opened his mouth and pushed himself forward, taking an inch of the cock, his tongue slipping under it.

The way his eyes closed and his mouth opened reminded Kay of a thirsty man taking a first sip of water. It took all of her will to pull him off her cock, but it was worth it to see the want and the disappointment.

“Say please.”

He let out more puppy whimpers.

“P-please,” he said straining against her hand in his hair.

Emma was nearly jumping out of her skin as she watched, her thighs squeezing together rhythmically and she bounced on her knees.

“No, Alec, you have to say sir. You have to say ‘please, sir can I suck your cock,’” she explained with a tattle tale girlishness in her voice.

Kay held the boy’s hair tighter.

“Why don’t you show him, Em,” Kay said sweetly.

Emma smiled wide, licking her red lips. She took Kay’s cock into her mouth expertly, with the pride of a birthday girl who had gotten the most cake.

That Sort of Thing - Published

I’m excited to announce my new novella That Sort of Thing, the story of a woman named Valentine who meets a charming writer of risqué stories. As she is seduced by his words she is also confronted by the guilt of playing his taboo games. Will reality live up to the dirty fantasies?

This novella can be purchased as an ebook or an audiobook (recorded by me!) exclusively at writingdirty.com, though it will eventually be up on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Renting a Girl from the Mall

Well, Amazon has accepted my re-edited version of the novella that has sold the most for me. It’s about a guy who pays a college girl to fuck him and call him daddy. Apparently I just can’t mention the daddy part, or call a nineteen year old a teenager.

Thus, I give you: Renting a Girl from the Mall.

Mark is a bit obsessed. He keeps running into a cute, if a bit bratty, college girl named Megan in the mall. She certainly wants nothing to do with the thirty-something Mark, but when she gets into some financial trouble she finds herself in his car listening to his very interesting offer.

What is she willing to do for $1000? Can she play her part in his kinky role play scenario? Will she be seduced into being his rent-a-girl?

Part two is going up in a bit. Let us see how long they stay up.

Audio Version of The Date

Ezra Masters at Naughty Sounds has made an audio version of my story The Date and I think it is wonderfully creepy and hot all at once.

If you like stories with consensual non-consent play I highly recommend giving it a listen.

http://naughtysound.com/working-on-a-new-piece-considering-having-a-woman-do-the-lady-bits-your-thoughts-have-a-listen-warning-work-in-progress/