This is another 'diary' post. Not fiction, but the latest news from my real life. I suppose it's slightly erotic, certainly a bit romantic, and hopefully not too boring. All names have been left unchanged to expose the not-so-innocent.
* * * * *
I'm about to embark on an affair. This is a huge step for me, as I've been totally faithful to my girlfriend Bobbi since our relationship began 6 years ago. But things have changed between us. We're still in love, of course, and still living together, but things are a bit different now.
This is why I went away for a couple of months at the beginning of this year. Before I left, Bobbi and I had a long, deep discussion about our situation. We agreed that we've each found our soulmate, and that we never want to break up, but we both feel a yearning for space. Last year our relationship seemed increasingly claustrophobic. We weren't spending enough time away from it. Everything we did seemed to involve being together 24/7. I spent my whole life from age 18 to 30 roaming the world, drifting from one continent to another, dabbling in various jobs and meeting lots of people. I guess I was a typical rolling stone in those days. When I came back to England in 2004 my head was spinning and all I wanted to do was stay in one place for a change. It seemed to work for a while. I met Bobbi and we fell in love. We started living together and it was wonderful. It still is wonderful, but last year I began to feel like a caged animal. I wanted a bit of my old freedom back.
Bobbi felt the same, for a different reason. Last year, her ex-girlfriend Karen reappeared after spending 5 years abroad. Karen is the Really Big Love of Bobbi's life, but she's been in a relationship with Jen (a superb writer of erotica, btw) since the start of the millennium. Bobbi loves me very, very much, but she has a lifelong infatuation with Karen and the feeling is mutual. She and Karen have known each other for nearly 20 years and were lovers until Jen came along. Bobbi continued to sleep with Karen after that, and also with Jen (as well as having a regular threesome with both). In fact, the very first time I met Bobbi was in 2005 when she was with Karen and Jen at their old house. It was the morning after the three of them had indulged in one of their all-night orgies. They looked bedraggled and scruffy, as if they hadn't washed for weeks.
This year, while I was away in Spain and Turkey, Bobbi slept with Karen three times. I knew she was going to do it, because we had already spoken about it. They've had sex twice more since I came back. I think it's turning into a monthly session. Karen is a very seductive woman so I can hardly blame Bobbi for giving in to temptation.
It's fine. I'm totally cool with it. I don't feel hurt or jealous or resentful. I still love Bobbi very much. And our lovemaking is always fantastic. I never met anyone - female or male - who produces such exquisite sensations in my body.
Since I came back, Bobbi has been encouraging me to have an affair of my own. I'm sure it's so she can feel less guilty about sticking her fingers in Karen's pussy. At first, I wasn't too interested. After all, I've had an extremely promiscuous past (mostly with men) so it's not like I need another notch on the bedpost. But then something happened: I met Angela, and it was like being hit by a sledgehammer.
Angela is only 22 years old. At 41 I'm nearly twice her age. She's a university student on a postgraduate course. At the moment she's in an on-off relationship with her friend Becca, but it isn't serious. As far as I know, Angela has always been gay. She and Becca hooked up with a bunch of Bobbi's friends in a bar and that's where I first saw her. I didn't realize she was part of our group until I saw her chatting to Bobbi. I remember looking over and thinking Wow - that girl is really hot! Later, when I was sitting with a different bunch of people, I noticed Angela glancing over from time to time. Once, I deliberately caught her glance and stared back, to test her reaction. She smiled - a gorgeous, mischievous smile - before turning shyly away. At that moment, something went ping! inside my chest and I felt like a lovestruck teenager.
Let me describe Angela before I continue the tale....
She's small and slim, with white skin and enormous pale blue eyes. Her dark brown hair is short and straight, with a long fringe over one eye. Physically, she reminds me of my sister Trish, who is also petite and slim and short-haired. Like Trish, Angela is graceful and soft-spoken and hyper-intelligent. But that's where the similarity ends. Trish, like me, is half-Kurdish and therefore quite swarthy, with tanned skin and brown eyes, whereas Angela is as pale as a ghost. I know it sounds like a cliché but I have to say Angela looks ethereal, like an elf in the Lord Of The Rings movies.
On that first evening in the bar, Angela and I were introduced by Bobbi, who then left us. Angela came and sat next to me, and we spent the next hour chatting in a corner by ourselves. Eventually, her girlfriend Becca enticed her away for a few minutes, and that was when Bobbi returned to tell me I should let things happen and not feel nervous about it. She said Angela had been desperate to talk to me from the moment I walked into the bar. Bobbi reckoned Angela wanted to sleep with me. She said Angela was worried about making a move in case I thought she was too young. I was a bit annoyed when Bobbi said she had already told Angela some things about my life, things that I usually prefer to explain to people personally. For instance, she told Angela the scar on my lip came from a prison fight. This always sounds really bad when someone hears about it without knowing the full context.
When Angela came back, without Becca, I was still annoyed with Bobbi and feeling slightly vulnerable, as if all my secrets were out in the open. Bobbi got up and walked off in a mini-sulk. I must have had an anxious expression on my face because Angela asked if I was OK. I just shrugged and muttered, so she took my hand and held it tightly, like she wanted to comfort me. This really touched my heart, and I turned to her with a big smile. She whispered: I want to kiss you. I didn't know how to respond, but it didn't matter because she kissed me anyway. She just pressed her lips against my cheek. That was all: a little kiss, like the kind I give to an old friend. But I knew it meant more than that. Angela must have summoned all her courage to do it. It was a brave move for a young girl - to lean over and kiss an older woman whom she had only just met. She clearly felt pleased with herself. I saw she was blushing and smiling at the same time. She looked so sweet, so gorgeous, so delicious. I squeezed her hand like I never wanted to let go. To my surprise, I felt strangely light-headed, as if my drink had been spiked. My heart was beating fast. I was so excited, like a little kid on Christmas Day. It was almost like being in a time-warp: I was a breathless girl of 18 all over again.
Bobbi saw us a few minutes later. She looked across the bar and stared, and grinned. I knew she felt relieved that Angela and I were obviously starting something. A small victory for Bobbi. No more guilt about those sweaty trysts with Karen. All's well that ends well. And everyone lived happily ever after. Blah, blah, blah.
So there we have it. My affair with a gorgeous young woman begins. My first proper date with Angela is on Friday 17 May. No Bobbi. No Becca. Just Angela and me. We're going out on the town. And afterwards, when the bars close, who knows where we'll end up....?
I shall report back next week....
* * * * * * * * * *
Monday, 13 May 2013
Thursday, 11 April 2013
Been away, now back
I've been away from this blog a couple of months, or maybe more. Can't even remember the last time I updated it. Been away on an extended overseas trip, i.e. a sort of vacation. Well, not quite a vacation in the best sense (slouching on a beach in the sunshine, sipping something exotic through a pink straw) but rather a strange blend of family catch-ups and emotional patch-ups, with business meetings in between. No need to go into the boring details but basically I spent the first part of 2013 in Spain and Turkey.
In Spain I met my mother, who also happens to be my employer. She now lives in Australia most of the time but has some Spanish property interests that needed urgent attention, so she summoned me over from England to sort out the problem. It was all quite stressful and unsatisfying but it was good to be with Mama for a few weeks. She really is an amazing woman. She celebrates her 70th birthday next year but still looks as glamorous as she did in the 1960s.
After leaving Spain I traveled solo to Turkey to visit relatives and attend a couple of family events. I'm expected to behave myself on such occasions and not draw the wrong kind of attention. My past hangs over me like a dark cloud, threatening to engulf me in a fog of immorality. To some members of my Turkish kin I'm still a pariah, a renegade, an outsider who doesn't really belong. On this occasion I was welcomed into the family homes, but not everyone treated me in a friendly way. The fact that I'm in a homosexual relationship was mostly ignored, although some of the younger folk did ask how things were going, and I furtively showed some photos of Bobbi.
The best part of the Turkish trip was meeting up with Trish, my sister (half-sister really), whom I miss terribly since she left the UK. Unlike me, she has now been rehabilitated with The Family and all her mistakes have been forgiven or forgotten. Everyone congratulated her on how much she has changed in recent years. Swapping skin-tight jeans and clingy tops for traditional dress won't turn her into a different person, but it certainly made the trip a whole lot easier for her.
The upshot of all of this is that I'm now back at HQ, back at the computer. I suppose I could have found time to maintain this blog while I was away, but I didn't. I could have gone back on Twitter too, but didn't get around to it. So I've got plenty of catching up to do. I'll start blogging and tweeting again as soon as I get organized.
* * * * * * *
In Spain I met my mother, who also happens to be my employer. She now lives in Australia most of the time but has some Spanish property interests that needed urgent attention, so she summoned me over from England to sort out the problem. It was all quite stressful and unsatisfying but it was good to be with Mama for a few weeks. She really is an amazing woman. She celebrates her 70th birthday next year but still looks as glamorous as she did in the 1960s.
After leaving Spain I traveled solo to Turkey to visit relatives and attend a couple of family events. I'm expected to behave myself on such occasions and not draw the wrong kind of attention. My past hangs over me like a dark cloud, threatening to engulf me in a fog of immorality. To some members of my Turkish kin I'm still a pariah, a renegade, an outsider who doesn't really belong. On this occasion I was welcomed into the family homes, but not everyone treated me in a friendly way. The fact that I'm in a homosexual relationship was mostly ignored, although some of the younger folk did ask how things were going, and I furtively showed some photos of Bobbi.
The best part of the Turkish trip was meeting up with Trish, my sister (half-sister really), whom I miss terribly since she left the UK. Unlike me, she has now been rehabilitated with The Family and all her mistakes have been forgiven or forgotten. Everyone congratulated her on how much she has changed in recent years. Swapping skin-tight jeans and clingy tops for traditional dress won't turn her into a different person, but it certainly made the trip a whole lot easier for her.
The upshot of all of this is that I'm now back at HQ, back at the computer. I suppose I could have found time to maintain this blog while I was away, but I didn't. I could have gone back on Twitter too, but didn't get around to it. So I've got plenty of catching up to do. I'll start blogging and tweeting again as soon as I get organized.
* * * * * * *
Thursday, 10 January 2013
Secrets: a tale of lesbian love
An erotic story by my friend Karen...
The two women were no older than twenty-five, or so Berinda guessed, as she
watched them from her hiding-place among the trees. The small glade where they
met for their weekly tryst lay near the edge of the forest, not far from a half-forgotten trail, and its location had been a secret for many months. A secret
known only to these two furtive lovers, until Berinda discovered it.
She knew both women slightly, having briefly worked alongside them at
harvest time, but only in recent weeks had she learned of their secret meetings
in the woodland glade. There, upon the green grass in the sunshine, they met
each week, at the third hour after noon. In a silence broken only by the
rustling of leaves and the buzzing of honeybees they made passionate love,
breathlessly enjoying each other's gentle caresses until the sun went down on
the western plain.
Berinda knew their names: Cathkin of the River Ridge and Lily of the
Stoneland. She knew also the names of their husbands.
What price, she wondered, would these women pay to ensure the preservation of
their secret?
She wondered, too, what their husbands would do if they ever discovered the
truth. Berinda knew what her own husband would do if he caught her indulging in such pleasures: nothing at all, for he no
longer kept any affection for her and had little interest in her life. After
six years of marriage their relationship had crumbled, although Berinda still
had to yield her body to his drunken passion every Saturday night. She
detested him, and he despised her, calling her a barren witch. He often cursed her
childlessness but still leered at her voluptuous form whenever she bathed. Her
long black hair, reaching down to her buttocks, still fascinated him, as did her
narrow waist and sumptuous breasts. But Berinda no longer found him attractive
in any way, nor indeed did she feel attraction to any man. Her preferences were
shifting in a different direction, as she neared her thirtieth year, and she now
liked to imagine herself sharing her bed with a beautiful woman.
Cathkin and Lily were certainly beautiful. Their lithe, suntanned bodies stirred
Berinda's desires. She loved to see their blonde hair catching the sunlight in the glade, or their blue eyes shining as they whispered their secret love.
Every week, for the past two months, Berinda had followed them furtively to the
forest, creeping behind them as they made their way to their trysting-place,
watching as they slowly undressed. Seeing them kiss and caress in a
gasping embrace made her so envious that she almost wept with self-pity, wishing desperately that she could share the same delight. For
Cathkin and Lily always laughed whenever they kissed. They expressed their affection
with boundless joy, like a couple of golden-haired forest sprites, giggling
excitedly as they held each other close.
Berinda longed to make her hidden presence known to them, to enter their special
glade with an honest heart, to admit that she enjoyed spying on their
lovemaking. Perhaps they might invite her to join them? Perhaps they might kiss
her breasts and stroke her feminine parts in the way they kissed and stroked
one another? Or perhaps they might become angry, running away in shame and fear,
tearfully begging the unwelcome intruder to keep their secret safe?
For the moment, however, she remained content to merely observe them. The
sight of their slender naked bodies writhing on the grass gave her such a thrill
that she always masturbated while watching them. There she would crouch, as silent
as a fox among the green leaves, with a hand beneath her skirt, coaxing her
moist slit to a quiet orgasm. Then, as her climax subsided, she would
crawl swiftly away through the undergrowth until she reached the path.
For how many weeks could she endure such furtive self-pleasure, such
exquisite temptation, in secretive silence? How long must she wait before her
courage grew strong enough to reveal herself to Cathkin and Lily? To these
questions she had no answer, even though the words tormented her each
week as she trod the lonely path back to her village. She knew she was not yet brave
enough to show herself. One day, perhaps, the courage would suddenly come. Until
then, she could only watch and wait, before going home alone and frustrated, with
teardrops stinging her eyes as she walked through the bright woodlands.
THE END
Copyright © Karen Sacoma 2005
* * * * *
Friday, 21 December 2012
Shaving
Here's me, Yasmin, reminiscing about a past relationship.....
My ex-lover Susan and I dated for a year and a half. We met on a blind date one summer evening in 2005 and spent the night together at her house, enjoying each other's bodies until we were both exhausted. Susan was quite a reserved sort of woman but she certainly spoke frankly on our second date, when we went on a shopping trip. During a brief pause at a coffee bar she asked me how I felt about shaving off my pubic hair. All of it, every wisp and bristle.
Having already slept with Susan on our first date I knew she kept her crotch smooth and hairless. Shaved pussies do look cute and sexy, especially if the woman's labia are nicely shaped, and Susan's pussy was very beautiful. But shaving off my own pubes was not something I had wanted to do before, except the usual trimming and waxing around the bikini line. During my twenties I sometimes went as far as a kind of half-Brazilian, leaving a square patch of bristles above and around my slit, but the idea of a totally bald mound had never really appealed. I would probably not need to trim, shave or wax as frequently as I do if my pubic hair wasn’t so dark.
Anyway, Susan became quite insistent about it, so I agreed to go totally bald before our third date (when we again planned to sleep together at her house). Shaving the pubic area is neither difficult nor uncomfortable, but a suitably sensitive razor is absolutely essential. Being lazy, I used to persuade my sister to perform this task if she was around (and I’d have to reciprocate, of course). Unfortunately, Trish was off the radar in the days leading up to my third date with Susan, so I had to do the job all by myself. When it was finally complete, though after much cursing and squeaking, I felt quite pleased with the result. I checked my reflection in the mirror in my bedroom, standing with my legs apart, nude from the waist down, trying to spot any stray strands. I ran a finger over my mound to test its smoothness. My skin felt lovely and soft, like satin, and I knew Susan would be incredibly turned on when she saw it.
Well, I was right about that! She was so eager to see my new look that she started slavering like an animal when she got me home at the end of the evening. I was literally dragged upstairs to the bedroom, where she pretty much ripped my clothes off. Soon I stood naked before her, while she knelt at my feet to inspect my freshly shaved womanhood. Then something really weird happened - I became very, very embarrassed. I'm not usually shy about my body, having spent part of my twenties working as a dancer, but suddenly I was overcome with coyness. It was almost like the first time I ever undressed for sex. In fact, it was ten times worse. I felt like I needed to run off and hide. I wanted to curl into a ball in some dark corner where nobody could see me. Susan asked me if I was OK, but I just turned my head away and put my hands over my face. I knew I was blushing a deep shade of red (my skin is a light olive-brown, which makes even a slight blush look dark).
Fortunately, Susan is a perceptive and sensitive lady. When we were dating, she always knew what to say in awkward situations. She made a joke of my shyness and everything was alright again. Within a few moments we were giggling and cuddling on the bed, both of us feeling easy and relaxed and ready to make love. I still felt odd, still a bit embarrassed, but it soon passed. Even now, 7 years later, I still don’t know why I got timid all of a sudden. Nothing like it has happened since, but nor has anyone else asked me to shave my pubes, so it’s hard to know if the same feeling of shyness would hit me again.
That night, Susan and I took our lovemaking to a new dimension. Her passion grew so hot that I almost saw steam gushing out of her ears. Her reaction to my hairless pussy was manic, frenzied, slightly scary. She couldn't stop touching it, kissing it, running her hot wet tongue all over it. When we melded our bodies together it felt totally awesome, just as she had promised it would. Our smooth slits rubbed together like two slippery mouths. The subsequent orgasms were fantastic, mind-blowing, intense.
After that I continued shaving my pubes. Not all the time, and certainly not as often as Susan wanted. To be honest, I just couldn't be bothered. It's a bit of a drag, even when someone else does it for you. I guess it became a kind of special treat for Susan whenever I turned up with no bristles down there, but she didn’t hassle me if I presented her with a triangle of dark, half-grown fur. She still kept herself meticulously hairless the whole time and never seemed to mind razors and waxing and all that stuff. Being a natural blonde she could have sprouted a patch of honey-colored stubble and still looked fairly smooth from a few feet away. But she seemed obsessed with removing even the slightest hint of hair. That was okay with me, because I enjoyed stroking her lovely smooth mound, and placing tiny kisses all over it, and hearing the little gasps she made when my tongue roamed gently across its silky surface.
* * * * * * *
Yaz xx
My ex-lover Susan and I dated for a year and a half. We met on a blind date one summer evening in 2005 and spent the night together at her house, enjoying each other's bodies until we were both exhausted. Susan was quite a reserved sort of woman but she certainly spoke frankly on our second date, when we went on a shopping trip. During a brief pause at a coffee bar she asked me how I felt about shaving off my pubic hair. All of it, every wisp and bristle.
Having already slept with Susan on our first date I knew she kept her crotch smooth and hairless. Shaved pussies do look cute and sexy, especially if the woman's labia are nicely shaped, and Susan's pussy was very beautiful. But shaving off my own pubes was not something I had wanted to do before, except the usual trimming and waxing around the bikini line. During my twenties I sometimes went as far as a kind of half-Brazilian, leaving a square patch of bristles above and around my slit, but the idea of a totally bald mound had never really appealed. I would probably not need to trim, shave or wax as frequently as I do if my pubic hair wasn’t so dark.
Anyway, Susan became quite insistent about it, so I agreed to go totally bald before our third date (when we again planned to sleep together at her house). Shaving the pubic area is neither difficult nor uncomfortable, but a suitably sensitive razor is absolutely essential. Being lazy, I used to persuade my sister to perform this task if she was around (and I’d have to reciprocate, of course). Unfortunately, Trish was off the radar in the days leading up to my third date with Susan, so I had to do the job all by myself. When it was finally complete, though after much cursing and squeaking, I felt quite pleased with the result. I checked my reflection in the mirror in my bedroom, standing with my legs apart, nude from the waist down, trying to spot any stray strands. I ran a finger over my mound to test its smoothness. My skin felt lovely and soft, like satin, and I knew Susan would be incredibly turned on when she saw it.
Well, I was right about that! She was so eager to see my new look that she started slavering like an animal when she got me home at the end of the evening. I was literally dragged upstairs to the bedroom, where she pretty much ripped my clothes off. Soon I stood naked before her, while she knelt at my feet to inspect my freshly shaved womanhood. Then something really weird happened - I became very, very embarrassed. I'm not usually shy about my body, having spent part of my twenties working as a dancer, but suddenly I was overcome with coyness. It was almost like the first time I ever undressed for sex. In fact, it was ten times worse. I felt like I needed to run off and hide. I wanted to curl into a ball in some dark corner where nobody could see me. Susan asked me if I was OK, but I just turned my head away and put my hands over my face. I knew I was blushing a deep shade of red (my skin is a light olive-brown, which makes even a slight blush look dark).
Fortunately, Susan is a perceptive and sensitive lady. When we were dating, she always knew what to say in awkward situations. She made a joke of my shyness and everything was alright again. Within a few moments we were giggling and cuddling on the bed, both of us feeling easy and relaxed and ready to make love. I still felt odd, still a bit embarrassed, but it soon passed. Even now, 7 years later, I still don’t know why I got timid all of a sudden. Nothing like it has happened since, but nor has anyone else asked me to shave my pubes, so it’s hard to know if the same feeling of shyness would hit me again.
That night, Susan and I took our lovemaking to a new dimension. Her passion grew so hot that I almost saw steam gushing out of her ears. Her reaction to my hairless pussy was manic, frenzied, slightly scary. She couldn't stop touching it, kissing it, running her hot wet tongue all over it. When we melded our bodies together it felt totally awesome, just as she had promised it would. Our smooth slits rubbed together like two slippery mouths. The subsequent orgasms were fantastic, mind-blowing, intense.
After that I continued shaving my pubes. Not all the time, and certainly not as often as Susan wanted. To be honest, I just couldn't be bothered. It's a bit of a drag, even when someone else does it for you. I guess it became a kind of special treat for Susan whenever I turned up with no bristles down there, but she didn’t hassle me if I presented her with a triangle of dark, half-grown fur. She still kept herself meticulously hairless the whole time and never seemed to mind razors and waxing and all that stuff. Being a natural blonde she could have sprouted a patch of honey-colored stubble and still looked fairly smooth from a few feet away. But she seemed obsessed with removing even the slightest hint of hair. That was okay with me, because I enjoyed stroking her lovely smooth mound, and placing tiny kisses all over it, and hearing the little gasps she made when my tongue roamed gently across its silky surface.
* * * * * * *
Yaz xx
Thursday, 29 November 2012
The Debt: a tale of lesbian bondage
It was not supposed to be like this. Sarah knew this was not the kind of game she wanted to play. The knots were too tight and the thin leather cords bit into her skin. She had agreed to indulge in a bit of kinky bondage with Nikki and Jade but it was not turning out how she had expected. It just didn't feel right. In fact, it was starting to feel quite scary.
Her arms and legs were already aching from being stretched to the corners of the X-shaped cross. Every muscle, every sinew, every sensitive nerve in her body was hurting. Her limbs were pulled so taut that her breath came in short gasps which made her shudder all over. She was completely naked. Never had she felt so vulnerable, so exposed, so utterly helpless. Between her splayed thighs her pussy was lewdly displayed, its flesh-lips gaping like the open petals of a summer rose. Her pubic hair had been shaved off with a dry razor which had left her feeling sore and tender. The shaving had been done after Nikki and Jade crucified her. Each of them had taken a turn with the razor, giggling as they drew it slowly across her skin. They had deliberately chosen a blunt blade so that the tiny blonde hairs were ripped from her crotch.
The cross was fixed to a gray concrete wall in the basement of an old warehouse on Ricken Street. In the dim yellow glow of a single lamp Sarah noticed that she was in a large, square room with a bare floor. It was empty except for a long wooden table in the center. To her dismay she saw that the table had metal handcuffs fitted to each corner. Upon the tabletop, arranged in a neat line like a workman's tools, lay ten strange-looking implements. Three were shaped like long, thick penises made of hard black rubber. She reckoned they were at least fifteen inches long, with bulbous tips pointing menacingly towards her. The largest was thicker than her wrist, longer than her forearm and had a raised brass ring halfway along the shaft. Merely gazing at it, and wondering what it would feel like inside her body, was enough to chill her blood. The other items were similarly disconcerting: a leather whip with five thongs, each of which terminated in a sturdy round knot; a thin bamboo cane; a ball-gag; a shiny metal rod with a rubber handle connected to an electric cable; a small hairbrush with stiff bristles; a pack of latex gloves; and a big tube of lubricant.
She had been left alone in the room for nearly an hour and she was stating to panic. Fear spread through her veins like poison as her mind raced with terrible thoughts. What if Nikki and Jade decided not to come back? They were supposed to be her friends, so surely they would not simply leave her in this awful place? On the other hand, why would anyone treat another person in such a degrading way, if they were truly a friend? After all, nice people don't strip their friends naked and tie them to crosses. Sarah now bitterly regretted her willingness to participate in this strange game. The only reason she had agreed to play the role of slave-girl was to please Colette, her lover, who owed money to Nikki and Jade. The session of kinky role-play was meant to pay off Colette's debt. It was supposed to begin with a couple of hours of light bondage, with Sarah being tied and spanked and gently flogged. This was to be followed by a sexy threesome - with Sarah still playing the submissive - and maybe later a foursome if Colette decided to come along after work. Sarah had refused to spend the whole night with Nikki and Jade. They were beautiful women and she certainly felt attracted to them. But she did not share their passion for extreme kink, nor did she want to spend more than a few hours alone with them. She reckoned they were slightly crazy. They were notorious around the local lesbian community for pushing the sexual boundaries too far, and for taking too many risks. Many of the things they reputedly did to each other went far beyond what most people regarded as acceptable.
Sarah began to shiver uncontrollably. Not because the room was cold. Indeed, the steam pipes running across the ceiling made the air hot and humid. Her nude, splayed body already glistened with sweat. But she was shivering nonetheless, because her tightly stretched muscles were going into spasm. The pain in her wrists and ankles was growing. She wondered if Nikki and Jade had left her alone to increase her discomfort, to make sure she was already hurting when they eventually returned to resume the role-play. She hoped they were intending to come back soon, even though she was not relishing the prospect of being whipped and abused. Her greatest fear was that they might not come back for a long time, and that she would be left in the basement, all alone with her pain and thirst. So she hoped they would return sooner rather than later, to do whatever they wanted to do, to have their fun with her, and then to release her as soon as it was over.
She wondered if she would be able to endure the ordeal without crying or fainting. Terrifying images flashed through her mind as she gazed at the table. Although not a person of vast sexual experience she possessed enough knowledge to realize what the latex gloves were for. The thought of being subected to such humiliation made her catch her breath. Her main hope was that the lubricant would be used generously, to ease the inevitable discomfort, and that the degrading ritual would stop if she screamed.
These and other disturbing images were still floating around in her brain when she heard footsteps and voices outside the door. She recognized Nikki's voice, and Jade's, but a third woman was also there. Not Colette, whose French accent was distinctive, but someone else, someone unfamiliar. Sarah listened attentively. She could not hear everything that was said but the debt was certainly referred to a couple of times. Suddenly she froze. Her breathing paused. Her naked, sweat-soaked body turned rigid, like the polished statue of a crucified saint. She felt sure her own name was being mentioned in the conversation. Then she heard Jade's voice speaking loud and clear: 'Yes, Colette went away on a business trip. It was totally unexpected.' And then came Nikki's voice: 'That's right. Our plans have changed. Colette said we can keep the pretty slut for the next five days.'
Five days! The words tore through Sarah's heart like iron nails. Five days with Nikki and Jade! Five days of sexual torment and unspeakable depravity. Surely there must be some mistake? Colette would not abandon her like that, not without first retrieving her from the clutches of these horribly perverted women.
And then the door opened, and she heard Nikki's voice again: 'Hello, Sarah. Want to hear the good news?'
* * * * *
The Debt. Copyright © Yasmin Cavendish 2012.
######
Her arms and legs were already aching from being stretched to the corners of the X-shaped cross. Every muscle, every sinew, every sensitive nerve in her body was hurting. Her limbs were pulled so taut that her breath came in short gasps which made her shudder all over. She was completely naked. Never had she felt so vulnerable, so exposed, so utterly helpless. Between her splayed thighs her pussy was lewdly displayed, its flesh-lips gaping like the open petals of a summer rose. Her pubic hair had been shaved off with a dry razor which had left her feeling sore and tender. The shaving had been done after Nikki and Jade crucified her. Each of them had taken a turn with the razor, giggling as they drew it slowly across her skin. They had deliberately chosen a blunt blade so that the tiny blonde hairs were ripped from her crotch.
The cross was fixed to a gray concrete wall in the basement of an old warehouse on Ricken Street. In the dim yellow glow of a single lamp Sarah noticed that she was in a large, square room with a bare floor. It was empty except for a long wooden table in the center. To her dismay she saw that the table had metal handcuffs fitted to each corner. Upon the tabletop, arranged in a neat line like a workman's tools, lay ten strange-looking implements. Three were shaped like long, thick penises made of hard black rubber. She reckoned they were at least fifteen inches long, with bulbous tips pointing menacingly towards her. The largest was thicker than her wrist, longer than her forearm and had a raised brass ring halfway along the shaft. Merely gazing at it, and wondering what it would feel like inside her body, was enough to chill her blood. The other items were similarly disconcerting: a leather whip with five thongs, each of which terminated in a sturdy round knot; a thin bamboo cane; a ball-gag; a shiny metal rod with a rubber handle connected to an electric cable; a small hairbrush with stiff bristles; a pack of latex gloves; and a big tube of lubricant.
She had been left alone in the room for nearly an hour and she was stating to panic. Fear spread through her veins like poison as her mind raced with terrible thoughts. What if Nikki and Jade decided not to come back? They were supposed to be her friends, so surely they would not simply leave her in this awful place? On the other hand, why would anyone treat another person in such a degrading way, if they were truly a friend? After all, nice people don't strip their friends naked and tie them to crosses. Sarah now bitterly regretted her willingness to participate in this strange game. The only reason she had agreed to play the role of slave-girl was to please Colette, her lover, who owed money to Nikki and Jade. The session of kinky role-play was meant to pay off Colette's debt. It was supposed to begin with a couple of hours of light bondage, with Sarah being tied and spanked and gently flogged. This was to be followed by a sexy threesome - with Sarah still playing the submissive - and maybe later a foursome if Colette decided to come along after work. Sarah had refused to spend the whole night with Nikki and Jade. They were beautiful women and she certainly felt attracted to them. But she did not share their passion for extreme kink, nor did she want to spend more than a few hours alone with them. She reckoned they were slightly crazy. They were notorious around the local lesbian community for pushing the sexual boundaries too far, and for taking too many risks. Many of the things they reputedly did to each other went far beyond what most people regarded as acceptable.
Sarah began to shiver uncontrollably. Not because the room was cold. Indeed, the steam pipes running across the ceiling made the air hot and humid. Her nude, splayed body already glistened with sweat. But she was shivering nonetheless, because her tightly stretched muscles were going into spasm. The pain in her wrists and ankles was growing. She wondered if Nikki and Jade had left her alone to increase her discomfort, to make sure she was already hurting when they eventually returned to resume the role-play. She hoped they were intending to come back soon, even though she was not relishing the prospect of being whipped and abused. Her greatest fear was that they might not come back for a long time, and that she would be left in the basement, all alone with her pain and thirst. So she hoped they would return sooner rather than later, to do whatever they wanted to do, to have their fun with her, and then to release her as soon as it was over.
She wondered if she would be able to endure the ordeal without crying or fainting. Terrifying images flashed through her mind as she gazed at the table. Although not a person of vast sexual experience she possessed enough knowledge to realize what the latex gloves were for. The thought of being subected to such humiliation made her catch her breath. Her main hope was that the lubricant would be used generously, to ease the inevitable discomfort, and that the degrading ritual would stop if she screamed.
These and other disturbing images were still floating around in her brain when she heard footsteps and voices outside the door. She recognized Nikki's voice, and Jade's, but a third woman was also there. Not Colette, whose French accent was distinctive, but someone else, someone unfamiliar. Sarah listened attentively. She could not hear everything that was said but the debt was certainly referred to a couple of times. Suddenly she froze. Her breathing paused. Her naked, sweat-soaked body turned rigid, like the polished statue of a crucified saint. She felt sure her own name was being mentioned in the conversation. Then she heard Jade's voice speaking loud and clear: 'Yes, Colette went away on a business trip. It was totally unexpected.' And then came Nikki's voice: 'That's right. Our plans have changed. Colette said we can keep the pretty slut for the next five days.'
Five days! The words tore through Sarah's heart like iron nails. Five days with Nikki and Jade! Five days of sexual torment and unspeakable depravity. Surely there must be some mistake? Colette would not abandon her like that, not without first retrieving her from the clutches of these horribly perverted women.
And then the door opened, and she heard Nikki's voice again: 'Hello, Sarah. Want to hear the good news?'
* * * * *
The Debt. Copyright © Yasmin Cavendish 2012.
######
Wednesday, 28 November 2012
Writing lesbian BDSM: a personal view
I've always enjoyed writing lesbian bondage fiction. Soft or hard, consensual or non-consensual, the whole girls-only BDSM thing really fascinates me - but only as a theme for a story. Away from the keyboard it's a topic that has played almost no part in my life. I say almost because I've occasionally indulged in the kind of vigorous lovemaking that some people might call 'rough sex'. This was mostly with men, not women, but that's another story for another day. Even now, I am not averse to giving or receiving a firm slap on the bottom when fooling around with a playful girl. But I'm no spanker, and neither is my partner Bobbi. Nor is my sexual personality dominant or submissive. My stories of cruel mistresses and pretty slaves are not drawn from personal experience and derive entirely from my imagination.
Whenever I've written a BDSM tale I have simply chosen a scenario, switched on the computer and seen where the narrative takes me. But I would be lying if I said this kind of stuff doesn't turn me on. Writing about bondage has always felt a little bit exciting, like dabbling in a taboo. Some of my kinky stories were certainly more arousing to create than others, and my fingers would leave the keyboard and go wandering down the front of my pants. Btw, I heartily recommend stroking as a useful way of dealing with Erotic Writer's Block. It usually works for me, anyway ;-)
The consensual bondage storylines were always my favorites. Writing them never failed to turn me on, even if I didn't always go as far as touching myself. With non-consensual stories it mostly depended on what kind of mood I was in. If I was feeling depressed or angry, I could complete a fairly sadistic tale without getting aroused at all. Sometimes I would finish writing and just end up feeling more pissed off than when I started. But if I was feeling happy and relaxed, I could get aroused by pretty much anything I wrote, even if it was something that came close to being extreme bondage. There was no pattern to any of this. When I sat down at the computer to write an erotic story - whatever the theme - I never knew if I was going to get aroused or not. I remember one occasion when I was writing custom erotica for a client. I got terribly bored with typing the narrative for a non-consensual lesbian bondage scene, but then everything perked up when the scene changed to male/female domination. It was extemely hardcore heterosexual action and it really turned me on. This happened at a time when I was supposedly a 'lesbian', having told everyone I was done with guys for good. Like I said: no pattern to it. A classic case of Go Figure...
It was always interesting to get the opinions of my chief proof-readers: my sister Trish and another author called Jen. Trish has always steered clear of hard BDSM in her own stories but she grudgingly agreed to read my preliminary drafts. I would give her a printed copy and she'd come back and say 'Well written, but too nasty'. Jen on the other hand is a total bondage freak in every sense and always gave my so-called 'nasty' stories a big thumbs-up. She was never shocked by anything and reckoned there was a considerable demand for hard lesbian kink among female readers of erotica. Maybe she was right. I saw her a few months ago and told her I was intending to publish my old stories as a series of ebooks. She asked me if I would do the same with some of hers, all of which are brilliantly written and exceedingly kinky. Look out for an announcement about Jen's stories in the near future.
Over the years I've toyed with ideas for a lesbian bondage novel. I actually made three attempts, each of which fizzled out after a couple of chapters. The first was a historical tale featuring the Egyptian queen Cleopatra as the exotic captive of kinky Roman ladies. The second used the well-trodden idea of a women's prison with harsh rules. In both of these the bondage was non-consensual, but in the third novel I switched to a consensual theme based around a research institute where weird sensory experiments were performed on willing female volunteers. At some point I might publish all three as mini-novels in ebook format. I haven't done anything with them for a long time but recently I gave them a re-reading and, to be honest, I was taken aback by the severity of the BDSM scenes. My first thought was that I couldn't imagine writing such material now, because I've assumed my tastes in literary kinkiness have mellowed somewhat since my long break from writing. But last week I penned a new tale of consensual bondage and, to my surprise, it became quite 'hard' in terms of what the dommes were planning to do with their submissive slave-girl. It's a very short piece, like flash fiction, and it will appear on this blog in the next day or so.
I'm currently collating a few of my longer bondage stories for publication as an e-book anthology which will hopefully appear on Smashwords in January 2013.
Yaz xx
Whenever I've written a BDSM tale I have simply chosen a scenario, switched on the computer and seen where the narrative takes me. But I would be lying if I said this kind of stuff doesn't turn me on. Writing about bondage has always felt a little bit exciting, like dabbling in a taboo. Some of my kinky stories were certainly more arousing to create than others, and my fingers would leave the keyboard and go wandering down the front of my pants. Btw, I heartily recommend stroking as a useful way of dealing with Erotic Writer's Block. It usually works for me, anyway ;-)
The consensual bondage storylines were always my favorites. Writing them never failed to turn me on, even if I didn't always go as far as touching myself. With non-consensual stories it mostly depended on what kind of mood I was in. If I was feeling depressed or angry, I could complete a fairly sadistic tale without getting aroused at all. Sometimes I would finish writing and just end up feeling more pissed off than when I started. But if I was feeling happy and relaxed, I could get aroused by pretty much anything I wrote, even if it was something that came close to being extreme bondage. There was no pattern to any of this. When I sat down at the computer to write an erotic story - whatever the theme - I never knew if I was going to get aroused or not. I remember one occasion when I was writing custom erotica for a client. I got terribly bored with typing the narrative for a non-consensual lesbian bondage scene, but then everything perked up when the scene changed to male/female domination. It was extemely hardcore heterosexual action and it really turned me on. This happened at a time when I was supposedly a 'lesbian', having told everyone I was done with guys for good. Like I said: no pattern to it. A classic case of Go Figure...
It was always interesting to get the opinions of my chief proof-readers: my sister Trish and another author called Jen. Trish has always steered clear of hard BDSM in her own stories but she grudgingly agreed to read my preliminary drafts. I would give her a printed copy and she'd come back and say 'Well written, but too nasty'. Jen on the other hand is a total bondage freak in every sense and always gave my so-called 'nasty' stories a big thumbs-up. She was never shocked by anything and reckoned there was a considerable demand for hard lesbian kink among female readers of erotica. Maybe she was right. I saw her a few months ago and told her I was intending to publish my old stories as a series of ebooks. She asked me if I would do the same with some of hers, all of which are brilliantly written and exceedingly kinky. Look out for an announcement about Jen's stories in the near future.
Over the years I've toyed with ideas for a lesbian bondage novel. I actually made three attempts, each of which fizzled out after a couple of chapters. The first was a historical tale featuring the Egyptian queen Cleopatra as the exotic captive of kinky Roman ladies. The second used the well-trodden idea of a women's prison with harsh rules. In both of these the bondage was non-consensual, but in the third novel I switched to a consensual theme based around a research institute where weird sensory experiments were performed on willing female volunteers. At some point I might publish all three as mini-novels in ebook format. I haven't done anything with them for a long time but recently I gave them a re-reading and, to be honest, I was taken aback by the severity of the BDSM scenes. My first thought was that I couldn't imagine writing such material now, because I've assumed my tastes in literary kinkiness have mellowed somewhat since my long break from writing. But last week I penned a new tale of consensual bondage and, to my surprise, it became quite 'hard' in terms of what the dommes were planning to do with their submissive slave-girl. It's a very short piece, like flash fiction, and it will appear on this blog in the next day or so.
I'm currently collating a few of my longer bondage stories for publication as an e-book anthology which will hopefully appear on Smashwords in January 2013.
Yaz xx
Friday, 16 November 2012
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