Jack and Jitters, Part 2

(Note: What is to follow here depicts some consensual nonconsent. In no way was I ever actually not consenting to what was going on this evening, nor was I coerced into these acts by physical force. While certain acts depicted can be completely considered to be illegal and wrong in a very different context, SG and I are two consenting adults with a mutual understanding about the dynamic of our relationship and the fact that I could have terminated these actions anytime I wanted. While alcohol was involved, I was coherent and completely aware of the situation, not to mention I had the equivalent of what you’d rub around a baby’s mouth when it has a toothache. Seriously. Sober, safe, sane. Consensual.)

I was feeling a little bit bratty by the time I pulled the nightgown over my head. I wasn’t entirely thrilled with the fact that he’d made me go through the formality, so I decided I wasn’t going to make anything too easy for him either.

I took the glass out of his hand and took a sip. Then another. I set it back down on my bedside table. He reached for my hand, I took a step back and cocked a brow, lowered my head, raised my eyes. He reached out again, this time grabbing my arm, and swung me over to the bed.

SG has a sort of favorite way he likes to hold me where I’m bent over backwards on the side of the bed. The bed is on risers that put the mattress about a yard off the ground, so really just my shoulder-blades and up touch it. This time, he pushed me hard and I pushed back. He tried to pin my arms down, I struggled against his grasp. The second he reached down to pull the nightgown up, I used my free hand to try to shove his away. He gathered both hands above my head under one of his and proceeded to try to use a sheet to tie my wrists. Obviously, that’s just way too much fabric.

“My stockings are in the second drawer from the top,” I said, briefly breaking character. He smiled through his, reached in and grabbed a pair of black stockings. He secured my wrists together impossibly. Freaking Eagle Scouts.

He held onto the ends of the stockings with one hand, yanking my arms up further across the mattress to the point that I was forced onto my toes. He reached down between my legs and his fingers brushed over my lips and I closed my legs. “No,” I breathed. (Once again, dear readers: safe, sane, consensual, sober.)

“What did you just say?” He shoved my legs apart, holding one open and trapping the other between his.

“No,” I groaned again and tried to close my legs. He reached down and smacked my cunt. Hard, sharply. I cried out.

It’s strange. I wanted him and because I wanted him I wanted to refuse him. I know it doesn’t entirely make sense. But it’s like every time I said “no” and every time I refused him, I was bringing more of him out and into this. And the more of that part of him came out, the more of that part of me came out. It’s carnal. It’s completely and totally animalistic.

And it was also a demonstration. It was a trust fall. And as he pulled the stockings harder, pulling my body taut and arching my back more dramatically, I knew he’d catch me.

And templeofbablon strikes again.

On my cunt.

Like a gosh darn electric storm.

templeofbabalon:

So you want a fight? That’s fine – just remember this: I’m bigger than you, I’m stronger than you, I’ve been doing this for longer than you, and I’m definitely more vicious than you. I don’t play fair, I know exactly what you’re scared of, and I certainly don’t think it’s wrong to punch girls.

Shall we begin, little girl? I think it’s time to begin.

After all those years of tormenting poor Charlie Brown and the rest of the neighborhood kids, Lucy’s finally getting her just deserts.

“Honk honk hum honk honk.”

“But I promise I won’t be mean anymore.”

“Honk honk honk honk.”

(I hope someone catches the references so you all don’t think I’m nuts.)

She was terribly selfish when it came to pleasure. She only wanted to feel fingers and mouths upon her own needy body and rarely took the incentive to return the favor. The way she saw it with other men, just letting them have her in such a way was doing them a favor.

But not with him, he won’t stand for that sort of selfishness. He’ll stop touching her all together, stop playing her body the way he does so well. And, when she’s finally so frustrated by the inability of her own fingers to mimic the feeling of someone else’s hands, she’ll come to him. He’ll present her with two options: be a good girl and give him her mouth or simply just go without.

mercurycitymeltdown:

Sitting down is not going to help you, brat.

Now stand up, touch your toes and learn your lesson.

This is the kind of face that I’d make to provoke my tumblr girlfriend Dacry.

It is without a doubt that this is the sort of brattiness that she will absolutely make me regret displaying. And give me reason to do it more often.

titsian:

Elizabeth Ward Gracen

She may have to take the punishment lying down, but she won’t take it sitting down. She’ll moan around that bit deliciously. She’ll squirm and pout in such an enticing mockery of remorse. She’ll tilt herself in such a way that her dress proceeds to ride up just an inch more each time he walks by. She’ll make him forget which one of them is being punished.

kneelbegcrawl:

Ruka

The Infamous Car Story, Part 5

Continued from here.

I had barely processed what my boyfriend had said when he landed a rather harsh smack on my ass. He has these hands. I can’t really explain it. They were maybe about average sized, but for some reason the force of blows he delivered distributed itself within them horribly. For this reason, he usually used his non-dominant hand and reserved her dominant one for appropriate occasions. And, even so, he could only get one or two hits in with that hand before it simply became unbearable.

This was one of those occasions.

I cried out, bucking against the armrest as the blow landed. My entire ass stung, the pain practically radiating after where he hit in violent heat. Elle’s fingers on my clit pushed together and pinched it, eliciting a series of squirms that melted into exhausted groaning.

“Did it feel good, sweetie?” Elle asked. I could barely muster words, but I had certainly been tugged out of any sort of post-orgasmic bliss and back into the real world. “I bet you’re mighty thirsty right now from all the screaming, hm?”

Apparently, I’d screamed. I nodded feebly and received a smack from what was thankfully my boyfriend’s non-dominant hand, “answer her correctly.”

“Yes, Miss,” I choked out. Now using words, I realized that my throat did feel raw. I hoped no one had heard me. But, from the absence of any sirens or bright lights, I assumed we would be fine.

My boyfriend patted my ass with a smile, “maybe we should go get her something to eat. Seeing as it’s all about little fucking Ivy’s needs tonight.” I hated that taunting. They knew I hated it. If they would have let me, I would have gone down on them. I would have pleasured them. But, they were intentionally denying themselves and then blaming me for it. The effect was immensely frustrating.

Elle’s hand slipped from my clit and up to my ass, “you hungry, dear?” I shook my head and practically buried my face in the cup-holder when my boyfriend offered, “I think my little brat wants ice cream.”

At the time, little girl play was something he had started to bring up and it was something I was reluctant to try. Respecting my wishes against a foray into it, he simply resorted to taunting me with it whenever he could. I groaned felt a blush rising in my cheeks.

Elle’s hand left my ass for a second before colliding with it once more, “is that it, honey? Do you want ice cream on your special little night where you get whatever you want?”

“I guess,” I shrugged.

My boyfriend smacked my ass again. Hard. “You guess?”

“Someone’s mighty ungrateful,” Elle chimed in.

I shook my head, “I…I mean, if you guys want to.”

“You guys?” My boyfriend landed a few more spanks, “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are.”

“I’m…I’m sorry,” I choked out, “Sir, um, MIss, do you want to?”

Elle laughed, “Ivy, we asked you. And since tonight is all about you…”

“I’ll make you cum. Both of you. Really.”

“Don’t fucking interrupt, Ivy,” she smacked up near the top of my ass again, causing me to cry out, “I don’t think so, dear. We wouldn’t want to be selfish on your special little night. And it isn’t even all about you, is it? It’s about this.” She flicked her thumb over my clit before continuing, “but I’d like to know if the little whore attached to this cunt would like to get ice cream.” I went to open my mouth and she slipped her other hand over it, “and before you answer, Ivy, I want you to remember some things. I’m helping you out here. I’m being your best fucking friend. So don’t you forget manners. And if you don’t give me a definitive answer, I swear to God.”

She removed her hand and I answered, “yes, Miss, I would like to get ice cream. Thank you.”

“Good girl,” my boyfriend sneered behind me, “and where are we going?”

“I don’t…” I began and before I could even finish they had started to spank me again. by now, my ass was raw, tender. I could practically feel how red it was and how badly it had begun to sting. My eyes were watering up with tears when I finally picked a nearby place.

“And what are you going to get?” Elle asked.

I bit my lower lip, “I forget what it’s called.”

The barrage of spanks that followed from both of them was dizzying. “How did you forget that?” Smack. Smack. “I don’t know, really.” Smack. “I think she just wants this.” Smack. “She’s holding out clearly.” Smack. Smack. “You’re only making this worse for yourself, slut.” It continued. I could barely think.

“I don’t know,” I finally blurted out, “but it has nuts in it.” I practically yelled it. The spanking stopped. There was a long silence and I assumed they were looking at each other before they both burst out laughing.

They only untied me once we reached the place and allowed me the opportunity to straighten out my hair before we walked into the shop. It was basically empty and, as I walked, I felt the sting in my ass. They both smirked at me when I asked the guy behind the counter what the name of the one with the nuts in it was.

Overcome by curiosity, I excused myself to the bathroom. Once inside, I turned, lifted up my skirt, and looked over my shoulder into the mirror.

To be continued.

The power play here is incredible. For as amazing total and complete submission by a good girl is, there is something so sexy and playful about a submissive that bites back. Sure, most dominant partners can’t stand it after a certain point. But, hey, a little brattiness always throws a little flavor into the pot.

And the pre-Colombian art tattoo (sue me if it’s not, some Maya or Aztec or what have you could’ve so made that) on his arm is just killing me. Their stuff is always so strangely, primally erotic.

I have a terrible habit of doing this when I am about to get what I know will be a particularly harsh spanking. It’s almost like a reflex, because consciously I know not to do it. EIther way, it never ends well.

kindlybeatingher:

You know better than to grab me like that slut. You just made it much worse for you

Wanna play, Dacry?

ididyoudowewill:

Ellen Von Unwerth