After-work quickie

Alex clenched his jaw as he drove home from work. It had been a frustrating day, and he wanted to be able to relax and get his mind off of it.

He turned the corner, onto his street, and his heart plummeted to his toes and skipped a beat when he saw his Owner’s car parked outside his house.

All thoughts of work were instantly far from his mind.

He knew what this was, he’d known it was coming, and he knew what would be expected of him.  Forcing his body to obey him, he pulled into the garage as his Owner got out of her car.

As expected, the passenger side door opened as well.  A strange man got out, and together, the two of them walked into the garage.

“Hello, slut,” his Owner said cheerfully.  His face flamed at the pet name, at her using it within earshot of someone else.  She was showing restraint, she always did when there were others around, but he knew her well enough to read the giddiness in her eyes.

“Hello, Mistress,” he replied quietly.  Her being giddy usually meant difficult and degrading things for him.

She approached him and hugged him tightly, and he could feel the excitement radiating off of her.

“My friend wants to use your mouth.  Let’s go inside.”

The casual, matter-of-fact way she said it was jarring in and of itself.  She could’ve been talking about what she had for lunch.

“I ate a club sandwich, and you’re going to eat a stranger’s cum.”

His heart was racing as he led the way into the house.  He was acutely aware of the unfamiliar presence behind him, walking beside his Owner, as they walked toward the door.

He fumbled with the keys.

“Having trouble, little girl?” she asked playfully, her hand on his lower back, sliding down and groping his ass.  “A little distracted?”

Somehow, he managed to get his door unlocked, and the three of them went inside.

He’d barely closed and locked the door before she was behind him, pushing him against it.  Quickly, she unfastened his pants and slid them down, exposing the women’s panties underneath.

“See?” she asked the man with her.  “I told you he wears them every day.  He’s such an obedient bitch.”

“His ass looks damn sexy,” the man replied.

“Doesn’t it?  It’s so perky.  Feel it.”

Alex lowered his head, his face hot with embarrassment, as he felt unfamiliar hands on him, roaming across his body, sliding underneath his panties, dipping between his legs.

But then, his Owner grabbed him by the arm and turned him around.

“Get on your knees, slut,” she ordered.

Wordlessly, he knelt down, cringing as he heard the unmistakable sound of a pants zipper.  He kept his eyes down, not wanting to look at what was in front of him.

He should’ve known better.  “Look at it,” his Owner said, lifting his head up.  “Look at what’s going in your mouth.”

Reluctantly, he forced his eyes up, his stomach tying itself in knots when he saw the hard, dripping cock only inches from his face.

He felt his Owner’s lips on his ear as she crouched behind him, firmly holding his wrists behind his back.

“Open your mouth, little girl,” she murmured.  “He’s going to fuck it.  And when he cums, you will not swallow until I say you can.”

His body almost seemed to act on its own, obeying her command as the cock was pushed into his mouth.

The man wasn’t gentle.  But then, Alex hadn’t expected him to be.  He held Alex’s head with both hands, thrusting deep and hard into his mouth.  Even when Alex gagged, he didn’t stop.  And his Owner kept a tight grip on his hands, keeping him from struggling.

Thankfully, the man didn’t last long.  His thrusts became more frenzied, his grunts more animalistic, until he plunged his cock into Alex’s mouth, as deep as it would go, moaning as his cock pumped Alex’s mouth full of cum.

Alex wanted nothing more than to be allowed to swallow, but obediently waited, hoping she’d be merciful and wouldn’t make him wait long.

“How does it taste?” she asked.  She moved closer, whispering into his ear, only loud enough for him to hear.  “You’re a cum dumpster,” she told him, the softness and gentleness of her tone a stark contrast to the words she said.  “Nothing but a pair of holes for real men to fuck.  Get used to the taste of cum, little girl.  This is the first of many.”

Her hands roamed across his chest, pulling him back against her.  “Swallow,” she commanded.

Relieved, he obeyed her, shutting his eyes tight as he forced his body to comply.

“That’s my girl,” she whispered approvingly.  She held him against her a moment longer, her arms wrapped around him, then suddenly released him and pushed him hard.  He fell forward, onto his hands and knees, as she rose to her feet.

“Come on, let’s go,” she said to her companion.

And they left, without another word to him.

Open up for me

He gasped as he felt the tip of her strap-on pushing against his entrance; sucked in his breath as he felt himself being spread wide to accommodate the girth of her cock.  It felt much bigger in his ass than it had when she’d used it to fuck his mouth.

Panting, he looked up her as she slowly, steadily impaled him.  She knelt between his legs, lifted up and pulled to his chest, out of her way, practically bending him in half and leaving his inexperienced hole open and uncomfortably vulnerable to her.

His hands were balled into fists above his head, and we was acutely aware of the tension of his bonds.  Thick rope held his wrists in place, and his ankles were tied to the wrought iron headboard above him, keeping them up and keeping his ass exposed.

He couldn’t get away.

His heart raced and his cock surged as that realization hit home.  There was nothing he could do to make this stop.  His body was completely hers, he was completely at her mercy.

He grunted as she eased past that tight inner ring, wincing with the burn of being forced open.  Her eyes darted up to meet his, and his heart jumped at the predatory gleam he saw there, the hunger in her gaze, the corners of her mouth turning upward, forming that wolfish, dangerous grin that both terrified him and turned him on.

But even though his face contorted in pain and his chest heaved as she violated him, she only smiled, relentlessly pushing her cock deeper and deeper into him.

Finally, once she was past that ring, she drove her hips forward, sinking the cock into him as far as it would go, her hips pressing firmly against him.

He tensed, and a choked scream escaped him.  His limbs strained against the rope that held him, seeming to move with a mind of their own, trying to protect the hole she was so thoroughly destroying.

But she didn’t give him time to recover, pulling almost all the way out before plunging all the way back into him.

Please!” he managed to cry out, struggling in earnest now.  For all the good it did him.

She didn’t even acknowledge him.  She simply kept fucking him with that excruciating rhythm, torturing and tormenting him, forcing her way into him.

But then, she stopped, her cock as deep into him as it would go.  He expected her to pull back out and shove it back in again, but she didn’t.  Instead, she pressed her hips against him, rotating them and swirling her cock around inside him.

His eyes shot open and he gasped as pleasure quickly replaced pain.  When she began thrusting again, it was much slower, much gentler, coaxing the pleasure from his raw, throbbing hole.

“That’s a good boy,” she said softly, her voice low and thick with lust.  “Open up for me.”

Do men read fiction?

Novels, specifically?

Statistically, they don’t.  Women read novels way more than men do (and yes, I am aware that Stephen King, James Patterson, and John Grisham are telling me to eat shit right now.  That’s alright, they can do that).

I’ve always been a writer, and my most recent project has been a FemDom novel that I wanted to self-publish and sell.  Twenty-five thousand words into a 50-or 60 thousand word manuscript, it occurred to me that statistically, men aren’t big on reading novels.

Since about 80% of my followers are men, it stands to reason that a FemDom novel won’t be in absurdly high demand.

An anthology of FemDom short stories, on the other hand, is something men may be more likely to read.

Well, Jen, why not do both?

Because writing is labor-intensive as fuck, and I can only do it late at night when the kid and Kazander are asleep, and I have no interruptions to worry about.

That 25k-word manuscript is just a rough-ish draft, and I’ve already spent almost 300 hours actively working on that.  On top of that, I’ve completely written myself into a corner, and should I decide to save it, I’d have to trash at least 5,000 words (and that’s a very conservative estimate).

That’s doable, of course.  I once trashed 20k of an 80k-word manuscript for that same reason.

But I’m not writing just for shits and giggles right now.  I’m writing for a profit.  And spending another three or four hundred hours on something that won’t sell just doesn’t strike me as tons of fun.

I want to find out if this is worth the effort before I spend a few hundred hours working on it.

So here’s what I did.  I took one of the scenes from the novel, a short erotica scene, and self-published it.  You can buy it here for $2 USD.  You can use any device to read it except a Kindle, from what it says, including a PC and Mac.

I was originally going to sell it for a dollar, because it’s short and I’m literally just doing this to see if it sells, and humor while I apologize for upping the price.  But these publishing sites take a percentage, and I would’ve made an entire penny for each copy sold.  Remember, I’m trying to see if I can make a profit.  At least this way, I make a whopping 91 cents for each sale.

But because I’m in a generous mood, at the end of a week, I’m going to donate whatever I make to that gofundme page I posted a few hours ago (she’s vanilla, though, and I don’t know her personally, so we’re going to do that anonymously.  She doesn’t need to know where the money comes from).

I’ve been there, just after the first miscarriage scare, when they said I could either sit in bed all day, every day, or lose my baby.  I wasn’t worried about the medical expenses.  Hospitals are pretty flexible when it comes to payment plans.  But things like insurance, car payment, phone bill, and groceries aren’t great with payment options.  Especially since Kazander and I were still a new thing, I had no idea how he’d react to suddenly having to support me AND pay my medical bills.  I lucked out, but other people aren’t so lucky.  That’s terrifying, and I can relate to the stress that family must be feeling.

And let’s be honest, here, because I’m all about the honesty, and I’m a terrible salesperson.  If you’re not willing to pay $2 for a piece of smut, you probably won’t be willing to pay $5 for ten pieces of smut.  So I’d be in the same boat I’m in now.

If you’re interested and would likely purchase a collection of erotic stories, buy it.  If not, then don’t.  The level of interest here will determine whether or not I spend the next couple of months up to my nipples in fun, offensive, imaginative smut.

Birthdays and Figging

So all three of my boys’ birthdays are within a month of each other. Kazander’s birthday is right around the Sagittarius/Capricorn cusp, Steel’s birthday is about two weeks after that, and Sounder’s birthday is about two weeks after Steel’s. On top of that, my birthday is about two weeks after Sounder’s. And on top of that, both Sounder and I are starting new decades this year. He’s turning 40, and I’m turning 30.

I swear, I didn’t plan all that.

So birthdays have been at the forefront of my mind lately. And with that in mind, I decided to write a bit of erotica inspired by the birthday theme, and by the boys celebrating them.


 

I came home after having dinner with friends to find my boy right where I left him three hours ago; naked, gagged with a locking gag, stuffed with a locking butt plug, and lying in his cage in the middle of the living room.

He looked up at me as I walked in the door, whimpering. His jaw and ass were no doubt sore, and I was sure the whimpering was his way of begging me to remove the things inside him.

But he’d have to be sore for a little while longer. I set my keys and purse down on the table just inside the door, slid off my shoes, and walked past him without acknowledging him. I made my way into the kitchen, poured myself a glass of wine, then returned to the living room to sit on the couch beside his cage.

“How was your night?” I asked grinning.

He grunted softly, squirming. It was obvious from his body language that he was in pain, but he slowly, tenderly picked himself up and knelt on all fours, watching as I leisurely drank my wine.

“Please,” he murmured, the single word muffled practically beyond recognition by the gag.

My grin widened.  “What’s the matter?” I asked innocently.  “Don’t you like being gagged and plugged for me?”

He whined, lowering his eyes, and nodded slowly.  A long sigh escaped him, and I chuckled, knowing what he was thinking.  He assumed I would make him keep the gag and plug in for quite a bit longer.

I waited a moment, watching him while I sipped my wine, letting him continue thinking that just a bit longer, then set my glass down on the end table.

“Well, I’m in a generous mood,” I said, pulling two keys from inside my bra.  “I guess I’ll let you relax for now.”

I knelt down beside the cage, reaching between the bars and pushing his head down so I could reach the small padlock at the back of his head.  I quickly unlocked it, then unbuckled it and removed the gag.

He groaned, tenderly flexing his jaw, his eyes closed and his face scrunched up in pain.  “Thank you, Domina,” he said quietly.

“Don’t thank me yet,” I replied, rising to my feet and walking around the cage to stand behind him.  I unlocked the plug, closed it, and gently pulled it out of him.

He gasped, tensing, and I smiled.  “A little sore?”

“A little,” he answered, his voice tight as I pulled the plug out of him.  I took my time, moving extremely slowly, savoring the pain it caused him and his soft whines and moans, and the way his body tensed, his hands clenched into fists.  The cage was just big enough to accommodate him while he was on all fours.  He didn’t have the room to try and squirm away from me.

Finally, it slid all the way out, and he moaned in relief, dropping to his stomach, breathing heavily.

“That’s a good boy,” I said.  “Do you feel better now?”

“Yes, Domina,” he said, sighing.

I left the room, going back to the kitchen, where I grabbed his dog bowl and filled it with water.  I also poured another glass of wine.

I brought both back to the living room, and slid the dog bowl through the small slot designed for feeding him, and set the glass of wine down beside it.  He looked up at me, obviously confused by the wine.

“I’m in a generous mood,” I said with a shrug.  “And I’m going to take a shower.  Here’s the TV remote.  You can watch something until I get back.”

“May I come out of the cage?” he asked quietly.

I laughed.  “Why would I let you out?  You belong in there.”

He lowered his gaze.  “Yes, Domina.”

“That’s a good boy,” I said, handing him the remote.  “I’ll be back.”

I finished my wine and headed to the bathroom, and got into the shower, sighing as the warm water ran over me.  I relaxed, taking my time.  I also took the opportunity to shave my legs.  I was in no rush.

Finally, I turned off the water, dried off, and changed into a tank top and my favorite pajama pants.  They were thick, soft, and warm, and I wore them all the time.

I came back downstairs to find him sitting upright, leaning back against the bars of the cage.  Both the wine glass and the dog bowl were more than half empty.  I quickly refilled my wine glass, and walked back into the living room.

“Still sore?” I asked, taking the remote from him.

“A little,” he answered.

I looked down at him, sitting in his cage.  He looked so cute.

The cage had been custom built by a friend of mine, made specifically for him.  I’d designed it to be restricting, but comfortable enough for extended periods.  It was just long enough to accommodate him while he was on all fours, and just tall enough for him to sit upright.  The bars were spaced wide enough apart that he could slide his legs through if he needed to stretch out, but not wide enough to allow his head through.

At the front of the cage, near the bottom, was a narrow slot that allowed me to slide a dog bowl inside, so I could feed him without unlocking the door.  Above that was a locking metal ring that I could remove to create a hole just big enough for him to stick his head through.  Once it was through, I could lock the ring around his neck, keeping him in place.

The bottom of the cage was lined with a thick, firm mat to protect his knees when he was on all fours, and to give him some level of comfort during those times that I decided to keep him caged all day (or all weekend).

It didn’t have wheels, but I’d gotten furniture sliders to put underneath it, so I could easily push the cage wherever I wanted.

Now, I pushed the cage back so it was flush against the couch, then lied down on the couch and spread out, reaching through the bars of the cage and idly running the tips of my fingers across his shoulders, neck, and chest while I sipped my wine and watched TV.

But my boy is sexy, and turns me on, and it wasn’t too terribly long before I wanted to make him squirm.  I turned off the TV, unlocked the cage, clipped a leash to his collar, and led him out.  I gave him a moment to stretch.  This was the first opportunity he’d had to stand upright all day.  Even when letting him take those pesky bathroom breaks he insisted on, I made him crawl on his hands and knees.

I gave him a moment, then led him into the kitchen, where I grabbed a paring knife and a finger of ginger.  His face went pale as he watched me peel and carve it into the size and shape I wanted.

I grinned at his reaction.  “What’s the matter?” I asked.  “Not particularly looking forward to this?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Well, I am.”

He gave a resigned sigh, tearing his eyes away from the ginger in my hands to meet my gaze.  “Then I’m looking forward to making you happy.”

“Good boy.”

I finished carving it and handed it to him.  His eyes widened.  “You’re done?” he asked, taking it.

“Yeah.  Why?”

“It’s just big.”

I smiled.  “It’s not that big.  You’ll be fine.”

I led him into the bedroom, where I made him lie on his back, and used the under-the-bed restraints to cuff his hands.  I cuffed his ankles and tied them to rings welded into the wrought-iron headboard, forcing his legs up and leaving him nice and open and exposed.

I knelt down on the bed and shoved a finger in his mouth, getting it nice and wet before softly, gently rubbing it against his sore hole.  He closed his eyes, enjoying the gentle touch.

Not even a full minute passed before the soft whines started.  “Please, Domina,” he begged, squirming as much as he could in that position.

“What?” I asked.  “Do you want me to finger you, little boy?”

“Yes, please.”

“Beg for it, slut.”

He didn’t miss a beat.  “Please, Domina.  Please finger me.  Finger your slut.  I want you inside me.  I want to feel you filling me up.  I’m yours, your slut, your bitch.”

I interrupted him by sliding my finger smoothly inside.  I had to interrupt him.  If I didn’t, the begging would inevitably devolve into a barely-intelligible stream of slutty drivel.

For a few moments, I slowly fingered him, letting him enjoy himself.  “You like this, don’t you, slut?” I asked him.  “You live for this.  You love being stuffed, being filled, being fucked.  I know you love it.  You crave it.  This hole is mine, little boy.  I own it, and I own you.”

“Yes, Domina,” he gasped, unable to control the whines and moans escaping him as he squirmed, trying to push himself further down on my finger, trying to feel me even deeper inside him.

I chuckled.  “Such an eager little bitch.  But I have other plans for this hole.  I know you don’t think I was going to let you off with just fingering tonight.”

He pouted for just a moment as I pulled my finger out of him, but went very still when I grabbed the ginger.

I worked it in gently.  He was going to be in enough pain soon.  There was no reason to make it worse on his already-abused hole.

Once it was all the way in, I released his legs, letting him lie flat on his back.  His arms were still restrained, but I left his legs free.  I wanted to watch him squirm.

It didn’t take long.  Within moments, he was beginning to feel the effects.  I could see the tension rolling through his body, and he started pulling against his restraints, his breathing becoming heavier by the second.

“That’s a good boy,” I told him.  “It hurts already, doesn’t it?  But you know it’s going to get a lot worse.  I’m going to make you scream tonight, little slut.  I’m going to break you, I’m going to destroy that self-control of yours.  You’re going to scream, you’re going to cry.  And if the first finger doesn’t work, I’ll just go and carve another one and start all over again.  I can do this all night.  And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.  All you can do is let go, and hope that I’m feeling merciful when the effects of the first one start to wear off.”

To emphasize my point, I reached down between his legs and squeezed his ass cheeks together, a move I knew would momentarily exacerbate the pain.

He cried out, his entire body tense, squirming uncontrollably on the bed.  I grinned, watching him in silence for a moment, watching him wrestle with the pain.

I was half-tempted to stand back the entire time and watch him, and then go carve up another to put inside him.  I knew the pain by itself wouldn’t be enough to get the reaction I wanted from him.  But twenty minutes to half an hour of pain certainly wouldn’t hurt my cause.  Especially since I’d aged and fermented this ginger, making it quite a bit more potent than it would’ve been if I’d just bought it that day.

But no, I wouldn’t need the second round.  I was determined to break him, and I knew how to do it.

I knelt beside him, running my fingers along his body, down his ribs, across his chest.  After a moment, I gripped his cock, slowly stroking him to full mast.

It didn’t take long.  That’s the awesome thing about figging.  The pain by itself is unbelievably hot, but with just a little prompting, it becomes a massive aphrodisiac.  I knew how to use that combination.

I hovered over his rock-hard cock, spitting on it to get it wet, then began stroking in earnest.  Less than a minute later, he reached his first edge – the first of many.

“That’s a good boy,” I told him.  “Look how hard you are.  You must really be enjoying this.  Aww, you look so cute trying to hold on to that control.  But you know it’s a battle you can’t win.  I’m going to break you tonight.  There’s no getting around it.  It’s going to happen.  The sooner you accept that inevitability, the better off you’ll be.  Because I own this cock, and I own this little boy cunt, and I’m going to abuse them until I get what I want.  And I have absolutely nowhere else I need to be.”

By the time I finished speaking, he’d reached his second edge, and I couldn’t help but smile.  This would be easier than I thought.

I leaned forward and began licking and nibbling his ear, keeping my hand on his cock, slowly stroking him to one edge after another after another.  Each time, I’d only pause for a couple of seconds, just long enough to bring him back from the edge, but keeping him close to it.

And as sensitive as his neck and ears were, keeping him right on the edge was beyond easy.  It was making sure I didn’t accidentally go too far that I had to be mindful of.  I didn’t want him cumming yet.  I wasn’t done with him.

His moans got louder, his voice got higher as the sensations began to overwhelm him.  For a moment, I released my hold on his cock and reached down to push the ginger further inside him, intensifying the pain.  And that elicited the first delicious scream of the night.

I couldn’t help but smile triumphantly as I raised myself up to look down at him, studying the pain and the helplessness in his face, watching him as he finally started to accept the inevitability.  He knew me well enough to know that I don’t make idle threats.  I would keep this up for as long as it took to get what I wanted from him.  There would be no rest, no relief, until I got what I wanted.  I wouldn’t let up until I had utterly and thoroughly broken him.

Fighting the screams and fighting the tears would do nothing but prolong the torture.  And since my sadism knows no bounds, I had absolutely zero problem with prolonging the torture.

He closed his eyes, his chest heaving, and I grinned, reaching down to continue edging him with one hand as I teased his nipples with the other.  As he neared yet another edge, I leaned forward, taking a nipple between my teeth, and bit down hard just as he reached the edge.  Another scream and a surge in his cock were my rewards.

And because I’m a fan of symmetry, I repeated the process with the other nipple.  By that time, it was less than ten seconds between edges, and I could only stroke him a couple of times before pausing.  He was howling and thrashing around on the bed, but I wasn’t done with him yet.

I went back to his neck and his ear, teasing him, licking him, keeping him overwhelmed, keeping the pleasure just as intense as the pain.

When I bit down on his earlobe, his scream was loud enough to hurt my ears.

But then, as the scream faded, I heard the sound I’d been waiting for.  His scream ended in a sob.

He was breaking.

But he wasn’t broken yet.  If I stopped now, he’d regain control, and a single sob would be all I’d get.

And that wasn’t enough for me.

I reached down to push against the ginger again while tonguing his ear relentlessly.  He turned his head, trying to push me away, but he was far beyond overwhelmed, and it made him weak.  He couldn’t fight me, and he knew it.

“Please,” he begged, the word broken by another sob.  He couldn’t hold on to that self-control anymore, he couldn’t keep it together anymore, he couldn’t handle it anymore.

“No,” I murmured into his ear before biting down on him again.

No, I wasn’t done with him yet.  I wasn’t going to let him rest yet.  I knew he couldn’t handle it.  That was the whole point.

I kept going, keeping him on that edge, combining the pleasure and pain, making sure both remained intense enough to overwhelm him just on their own, much less combined, and with the aphrodisiac of the ginger inside him.

I kept a close eye on the time.  I knew that I only had twenty minutes, maybe half an hour if I was lucky, before the effects would start wearing off.  And I wanted to make sure he came while it was still at its peak.

So I kept going, kept pushing him, until tears streamed down his face and he was crying openly.  I felt like I’d been torturing him for hours, but in reality, it had been barely more than twenty minutes, and he was a broken, writhing, sobbing, wrecked mess of a boy.

He was broken, and I was out of time.  If I waited any longer, I risked the effects being less intense.

I lifted myself up to straddle his thigh, using my knee to push the ginger further into him while tonguing his ear and stroking his cock.  He screamed, arching his back, his entire body tense as the orgasm I’d spent the last twenty minutes building finally exploded out of him.

He sobbed openly and loudly, my sweet, broken little boy.  I quickly wiped him clean with a towel, then unfastened his cuffs and pulled him into my arms.  I left the ginger inside him, letting it continue burning him as he retreated into my arms, still writhing, burying his face in my neck and clinging desperately to me as he sobbed.

“That’s a good boy,” I murmured, running my fingertips lightly along his back.  “You can rest, now.  You’ve done good.”

As the effects of the ginger wore off and the burning subsided, his sobs gradually quieted, until he was silent, breathing deeply, resting curled up against me.

Finally, I pulled away, sitting up.  He whined in protest, reaching for me, but I gently pushed his hand away.  I knelt between his legs, pushing them far apart, exposing his hole, and slowly pulled the ginger out.

He gasped, his hands clenching into fists, then relaxed as I pulled it all the way out.

I looked down at him affectionately as he lied still on the bed.  I’d pushed him harder than I ever had before.  I’d broken him, brought him low.

Smiling, I lied back down next to him, chuckling as he reached for me, once more burying his face against my body.  Sated, exhausted, and completely relaxed, he took a deep breath, and let out a sigh of contentment as he snuggled closer to me.  A sweet, slutty puddle of boy, just the way I liked him.

“I love you, Domina,” he whispered sleepily.

I kissed his forehead softly.  “I love you too, slut.  Happy birthday.”