Another outline of a scene that I wrote to give myself ideas for a new novel I’m writing.

“You WILL submit to me!”

Man, this pissed him off. He knew she was a master Dominatrix. And She had helped him and his wife transform their vanilla marriage into a really hot D/s relationship. He appreciated it. He really did. She was sexy too. It wasn’t like they didn’t fuck. She wasn’t a “professional” with them, that’s for sure. No money changed hands. Their training had been a natural outgrowth of their relationship with Her.

He had learned a lot, and he thought he was pretty damn good at topping. Now She was telling him he wasn’t. Not as good as his wife was at bottoming anyway. She said he needed to switch roles. To learn to submit.

He didn’t want to, but She insisted, and She always got her way. Now he was naked, blindfolded, and kneeling with his face toward the bed, his wrists shackled to the posts. He felt the rough tip of the rattan cane tracing a pattern on his back.

“Say you will submit.”

“I will submit.” Jesus Christ, what a waste of time.

crack. Man, that hurt. It felt like a bee sting, if the bee was the size of a fucking crow.

Who will you submit to?” crack. crack.

“To you, Mistress. I will submit to you.”

“That’s better.”Mistress

As the punishment continued, a change came over him. He realized that he had absolutely no control over the situation, and that realization relaxed him. He stopped resisting and shifted into some kind of zone. He wasn’t feeling the pain the same way. It just became intense sensation, and the sensation became erotic. He felt himself growing hard. She noticed it too.

“Oho. It seems there is a little of the masochist in you after all. Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

He heard her tall stiletto heels clicking languidly across the floor. When She returned, She reached around him and grabbed his dick roughly, pulling it upward. She put something metal around him, under his balls, and slid a metal cage over his cock. He heard the click of a lock. The cage was only a few inches long.

She began to tease him, stroking his caged cock, kissing it, licking it, even sucking it. His dick was trapped. It couldn’t get hard unless she freed him. She laughed wickedly.

“You see? You are completely under my control. I will do with you as I please. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Would you like your cock to be released?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“And then I suppose it would get hard?”

“Yes, Mistress. Very hard.”

“And what would you do with your hard cock, should I choose to free it?”

“Whatever you ask, Mistress.” Thinking about the possibilities made his dick strain at the cage again.

“Anything?” she asked teasingly.

“Yes, anything, Mistress.” She wanted to fuck now. He was sure of it. And he could hardly wait.

“We shall see. I am going to release your shackles. When I do, I want you to grovel, beg me for what you want.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

He felt his wrists come free, first one, then the other. He turned toward her and located one of her spike-heeled boots. He pushed his face onto the laces.

“Please Mistress, free my cock. I will do whatever you ask me to do with it.” He smiled to himself, thinking eagerly of the pleasure that awaited him after his pain.

“Very well. I will do as you ask. It may be that I have plans for your member.” In the back of his mind, it suddenly dawned on him that her plans might differ from his.

He heard the heels slowing clicking away again, and he waited nervously. Presently, she returned. She reached around him again, and he heard the lock click open and felt the ring and cage slide off of his cock.

“You may remove your blindfold. Turn and face me on your knees, please.”

“Yes, Mistress.” He did as she asked. When he turned, he saw that she had removed her skirt, and was wearing just her black leather bustier and high-heeled boots. In place of the skirt, she wore a harness with a dildo attached. He saw now that he would not be the one doing the fucking. This was not something he had considered, and he was momentarily taken aback.

“Suck it.”

“Mistress, I…I…” She slapped him hard across the face.

“I said suck it. I want to watch you suck my big cock.”

He reached out, took Her cock in his hand, and guided it to his mouth.

“Good, good. Keep sucking just like that.” She had grabbed his hair roughly with both hands and thrust her cock into his mouth until he choked on it. Finally, she had had enough.

“Get on the bed on all fours, and put your face in the pillow.” He complied immediately. He felt the lubricated tip of Her cock against his opening. She pushed, and it entered him. It hurt, but did not feel exactly as he was expecting.

“I want you to take it all. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She resumed pushing. He felt it enter far further than he thought possible. As She thrust in and out, She reached around and stroked his cock until it was rock hard.

She continued to thrust and stroke at the same time. He knew he was going to come, and that scared him. He would never allow his wife to orgasm until he said so.

“Mistress, with your permission, I am going to come now.”

“That’s fine. You have not yet developed the same control as you wife, but you will.”

With a final thrust, he erupted. His come spilled out of him, soaking the sheet.

“Are we finished, Mistress?”

“We are finished for now.”

Oddly, he found himself eagerly anticipating their next time together.

This short vignette is a sketch of a character I’m developing for a novel I’m beginning to think about. 

He kissed her clumsily, his hands pawing at her. She liked it, though. He was sweet. And handsome too. She could feel his hard muscles underneath his thin T-shirt. But it was more than his lack of experience or good looks that charmed her. He really liked her, treated her like a lady. Not like the other ones. She frowned to herself, momentarily distracted. How many had there been?

More than there should have been in her eighteen years, that’s for sure. And none of them her choice. As far as she was concerned, technically she was still a virgin. She wasn’t counting her asshole stepdad. That started when she was just 13. She tried to tell her Mom, but she wouldn’t believe her. Typical. Then her brother and his friends too. She’d had to grow up pretty quick in that house. Either be strong, or let it bury you. Well, she could be plenty strong! She had focused on her studies, graduated with honors, and now she had a full scholarship to the state university. The one three hours away from her hometown.

She smiled to herself. “Yup. I’m getting the hell out of here all right. And I’m NOT coming back.”

But first, she was going to fuck this guy. Not because she was being forced. Because SHE decided. That’s the way it was going to be from now on. If there was one thing that her shitty prior life had taught her, it was that women could use their looks and bodies to control men, and that’s just what she planned to do.

She felt him squeezing her boobs, first softly, then urgently. She pulled back from his embrace, tugged her tight T-shirt over her head, and unhooked her bra. Her large natural tits tumbled free. He grabbed them and sucked on them voraciously.

She reached over and stroked the front of his jeans, feeling the outline of the hard cock underneath, straining on the zipper. She unbuckled his belt and freed it. She wanted to stroke it, but she didn’t want him to come just yet.

His hands went down to her shorts, and he fumbled with them, desperate to get at what awaited within. She sighed to herself, laid back on the bed, and slipped them off. She left her panties on. Unless he had a condom, this was as far as he was gonna get.

He yanked his jeans and T-shirt off and positioned himself between her knees.

“Honey…did you bring anything…like, for protection?” He thought for a minute, grunted, reached into his wallet and took out a trusty Trojan. As he ripped the package open and busied himself trying to figure out how to get it on, she slipped her panties off, waiting patiently.

He eased his cock in, like he wasn’t sure what it would feel like, what would happen. Once fully inside her, he got the idea. They always did. He began thrusting in and out as he held himself over her like he was doing pushups or something. The pace increased rapidly, and within a minute she felt him come inside her.

She smiled up at him. “That was awesome, honey. You were great,” she whispered.

Relieved of her virginity at last, the vaguely wondered how it would be at college when she could finally meet some real men.

Here is a full story I wrote several years ago. I saw this ad in a magazine and started picturing some guy jerking off to it. I sent it to an anthology, but they rejected it – the editor said I was “fetishizing” the female characters. Since I was writing about a guy fantasizing about a girl in a magazine ad, fetishizing was pretty much the point. I guess I picked the wrong anthology! Anyway, enjoy…

The trigger was her leg. At least you thought so at first. With these sorts of things, it’s hard to say what actually sets you off. Regardless, her leg is very central to the image. Highlighted by the photographer, it extends straight up with pointed toe as her dance partner exuberantly dips her, ending in a thick white sock and black, sensible oxford shoe. It is a very nice leg. Naturally, she is pretty. But this isn’t the leg of a model. It’s muscular. Thick even, with a shapely curve to both the thigh and the calf. It’s a hell of a leg. Back in the day, that might have been enough. A Victoria’s Secret catalogue, a department store newspaper insert, anything like that. Usually you need more these days, though – much more.
Or perhaps it was her smile. She’s having such a great time dancing with her boyfriend. Oblivious to the fact that she’s causing a scene. You could almost call her innocent, girlish. But not really. She just oozes sexuality. She knows what she’s doing, how men look at her. And she likes it. She likes being the center of attention. She’s showing off, flaunting her body at the squares all around her. Her boyfriend put her into this position, but she’s not doing anything to change it. She’s just enjoying the moment. That combination of innocence and knowingness is always sexy in a young woman.

Is she wearing panties? You can’t tell for sure, but the picture seems to indicate that she isn’t. Her skirt is hiked up all the way to her waist. It is a side view, but if there were panties you’d expect to see some evidence of them. There could be a thong, though. It’s hard to say. It almost doesn’t matter, since either way she’s exposing her crotch for the entire world to see, and several other dancing couples are looking right at it.

Come to think of it, maybe that was the trigger – a voyeuristic thrill for both her and the other couples around her. She can pretend that she didn’t mean to flash her crotch at them. She is just dancing, lost in the music and following her partner. And the other couples can pretend they aren’t looking. But they are. That much is obvious. How many times has that happened to you? Not every day, of course. But it does happen, and it can be memorable, even for a lifetime. A well-timed gust of wind. A subway entering a station. A slip on a wet sidewalk. A wardrobe malfunction. All of a sudden, completely out of the blue, you’re seeing something private. Something you weren’t meant to see. Or were you?
Whatever the trigger is, it leads to that very familiar feeling. Subtle. Almost like an itch. An urge. Not at all like you see in movies, where a teenage boy sees a girl’s tits and runs frantically into the bathroom, hormones blazing. That’s a joke, a cliché. Tired by the time Phillip Roth wrote a novel about it before you were even born. For one thing, there wasn’t an erection. Not yet anyway. Just a pleasant thickening, a fullness, as blood started to seep into your member. There was no urgency. No hurry. You could have waited until later if you wanted. Waited until you had more time.

You could also have held off until you were in bed with your wife later that night. Sex is better with a partner, right? Not always. Maybe you didn’t want to wait. Maybe you didn’t feel like going through the process of seduction that night. Maybe she would be tired, not in the mood. Maybe you just wanted to be alone with your thoughts and fantasies this time. In any case, it didn’t have to be one or the other. You could still fuck your wife later if you felt like it.

Not that you actually went through all of these calculations in your mind. None of it was really planned like that. But the image did stir something. You find that you are touching yourself, first just through your pants. Stroking, feeling, sensing the growing erection. At some point, your cock wants to come out. It is tired of being restrained by your pants. It wants to spring forth, erect and proud. And you want to feel its thickness in your hand.

Of course you will need a fantasy, and it’s not going to be about fucking the model. It never is for you. Maybe for some guys. How the hell would you know? But for you, it would be weird to picture yourself having sex with models and starlets just because you think they’re hot. Why would they be interested in you? You probably overthink it, but that’s the way you are. When you see Scarlett Johansson’s teenaged ass encased in sheer panties, you think of teenage ass encased in sheer panties, not Scarlett Johansson.

There doesn’t have to be a fantasy. Your cock will respond perfectly well to pure physical manipulation. That’s the thing about being a guy. You could just stare at it with a blank mind as you stroke it and it would produce an orgasm. But it wouldn’t be as good. Not nearly as good. So what will it be? It could be a lot of things. Something you’ve done in your life. Something you’ve seen or read about. A fantasy you’ve had before. Something you make up entirely. Things start floating through your mind as you touch yourself. Not organized at first, but it will have to get there. Everything will have to resolve itself.

It seems as though panties are emerging as a central theme. You started off imagining what the model was showing to the other couples. Then Scarlett Johansson flashed through your mind. Panties are strange things when you think about it. Good ones look so perfect on a woman. Better than seeing her naked, really. But you still can’t wait to yank them off to see what’s underneath. Bikinis are the same way. What are they except slightly more substantial bras and panties? Now you are thinking about chicks in bikinis you’ve seen. And your wife in hers.

You think about that one time years ago when you saw a girl changing out of her bikini in the back of a car. It was very fast as you walked by, but she was pulling down her bottoms, just exposing the crack of her ass. Obviously you had to keep walking. You couldn’t stand there ogling her. But the image remains. Stuck in your mind forever. It will probably get even better over time.

Now you’re on the right track. Your cock is fully hard, and you are stroking it with authority. You don’t want to speed up too much, though. You could blow your load fast if you want to. But it’s much, much better if you slow things down a bit.

Flashing panties start to fill your thoughts. That little V that appears between a woman’s legs as her skirt rises. It’s so…how do you say it? Enjoyable. It’s just really, really pleasant to see. But why? It’s a mystery. Your mind inevitably drifts to the first time you can remember seeing it, in 2nd or 3rd grade. That’s gross – why the hell are you thinking about that? But you can’t help it – it’s a key association in your mind.
Now the fantasy has resolved itself. Maybe parts are true. Maybe not. But it goes like this. You are at a party with a date. Is she your wife? An old girlfriend? It doesn’t matter. You are at a party at a friend’s house. Your date has dressed up for the occasion in high heels and a skirt that’s just a little shorter than she’s used to wearing. Throughout the night, she keeps unintentionally exposing herself – when she bends over, when she sits down, when she crosses her legs. It’s subtle. She’s not causing a scene or anything, although of course people besides you could see if they’re looking right at her. But people are coming and going, mingling, not paying attention. You’re with her all night, so you see it all. And it’s driving you crazy.

Is it the panties themselves? You’ve seen them before, of course, and you like them a lot. They are pale blue. Delicate. Tiny. But there is something about seeing these little glimpses, these little teases. And that other people could see them too. She’s being a little naughty, a little slutty. You like that.

All this time you are drinking, chatting, flirting – doing the things you would normally do at a party. As the night wears on, you pull her aside, a little roughly, so she can feel your need. You tell her that her panties are driving you crazy. She is surprised. She hadn’t realized. At least she acts as though she hadn’t.

You order her to go into the bathroom, take them off, and give them to you. Right now. She demurs. It sounds a little crazy, a little uncomfortable. Plus, someone might see her pussy. But you persist. You are not going to be denied this time. She senses your urgency, and finally acquiesces to your demands. She disappears into the bathroom. You wait for her impatiently.

After a few minutes, she emerges. What took her so long? All she had to do was pull her panties off. You resist the urge to say something sharp, unpleasant. She looks up at you, a little in awe of your aggressive mood. But she likes it too. Likes that you want her. Slowly, she holds out her hand. You take her crumpled panties from her.

You look around. It is too public. Someone could come down the hall at any time. You give her a sideways glance and go into the bathroom yourself. You lock the door and look at what she’s given you. They are so small, so pretty. The sides are just string, the rear translucent. The front consists of little lace scallops. At the waist, there is a tiny little bow. You raise them to your nose and inhale her scent. That is even more arousing. You feel yourself begin to get hard. You take out your cock and slowly rub her panties up and down the partially tumescent shaft.

When you come out of the bathroom, she is gone. You look around for her and see her across the room chatting with other people. This goes on for a while. She sees you, but she doesn’t come over to you. Is she avoiding you? Teasing you? Maybe she’s mad at you, thinks you’re being too forceful, too unlike your usual self.

On the other hand, the two of you share a secret. Only you two know that her panties are in your pocket, and that she is naked underneath her miniskirt. The thought of it excites you, and as you watch her, you can see that it excites her as well. She keeps looking over at you, feeling your gaze. She blushes. Looks away. That excites you even more.

Finally, you’ve had enough. You want her. Now. You approach her as she mingles. Taking her by the elbow, you make some excuse. You need to borrow her for a minute. Whatever. You crack some kind of joke. You pull her into a spare bedroom. There are coats and purses piled up on the bed. You lock the door behind you and lead her over to the bed firmly, but not too rough. You’re not trying to bully her. You just want her to understand that you are in control right now, and that you need something from her. Mutely, she does your bidding. You push her head down onto the bed, her face buried in jackets, supported by her elbows. This makes her skirt ride up her hips, exposing the ass you’ve been thinking so much about. You stroke it, squeeze it. She responds, pushing it out a little to give you better access.

At first you stroke gently, but soon you can’t help yourself. You’re squeezing her ass cheeks, separating them with your hands to see what’s within. You see her tiny, puckered asshole and pussy, both open and inviting to you. Your need rises. You give her a swift smack on the ass. She moans a little and moves her legs apart expectantly.
Your fingers find her pussy and trace around the outside of the parted lips, feeling her swollen clit. Slowly, you insert a finger inside her. She is wet now, very wet. She is ready for you. You can hear her breathing quicken. You unzip your jeans and pull them down to your knees, along with your underwear. You don’t have the patience to take them any further. Your cock is fully hard now, throbbing. You don’t need any foreplay, no other stimulation. You want to fuck her. Now. You grasp her hips with both hands and move to enter her. Her hand reaches back to guide you to the right spot.

You enter slowly, not wanting to hurt her. Your cock feels big now, straining at its skin. She might not be ready for the whole thing. But she is. You can feel it right away. She is wet, receptive, even insistent. She wants it all, and she wants it hard. You pull back on her hips until your entire length is inside her. She gasps a little, afraid to make any noise in such a public place. You start thrusting, slowly at first, then faster, harder. She feels perfect, her pussy gently hugging every inch of your dick. This isn’t going to take long. You don’t want it to. You just want to take her, as hard as possible. She wants it that way too. Within a few minutes, you blast your load inside her. It is big, and takes a few thrusts to get it all the way out. You pull her closely to you, keeping your cock inside her for a few more seconds.

While this scenario is playing through your mind, your hand is stroking your cock along to the rhythm of your fantasy. When you erupt in your mind, your body erupts as well, with that familiar slow buildup and then violent release. It is good. It is very, very good. You’re glad you took the time to make it special.
Later, it occurred to you that you didn’t even know what the picture that started all this was for. You were curious, so you returned to the magazine, flipping through until you found it. It was an ad for sunglasses. The tagline was “Never Hide.” That struck you as funny, because men usually do hide their personal fantasies. You would be ashamed to admit to your closest friends what really turns you on, let alone write about it.