Caned In Singapore

I found this story Singapore Sting in an old offline archive of sex stories. It’s by Alex Birch, who posted it to Usenet in 2005. Our heroine, in desperate financial straits, got a job in Singapore under false pretenses, and gets caned by her sternly-aloof boss for it:

Dear God, I will be anonymous here, won’t I? My husband and family will never find out? Very well I certainly need to open my heart to someone or I’ll bottle up my guilt and shame inside. I’m 42 years old, married and with a young son who has just started at Cambridge and until six months ago, we had been living for two years in Singapore where my husband held a post of lecturer. Sadly, after six months in Singapore my husband was stricken with ME and was unable to work. We had a mortgage, there was his contract to negotiate around and our son was studying for his A levels. The money worries were immense and I began to look in the Straits Times for work I could do, for I have a degree in languages.

To my delight I eventually found an advertisement from a Singaporean importer of French and German farm equipment asking for language experts with a technical background who could translate the accompanying instructions into English. I applied, lying dreadfully about my technical background, and was duly interviewed in the sumptuous lounge of the man’s home. He was perhaps thirty five, very charming and business like, with a very strong, almost overwhelming, personality. I had noticed how his maidservants scurried to do his bidding and felt myself blushing with a strange conflict of feelings particularly when he quite unashamedly looked my body up and down with undisguised pleasure. I have kept myself in shape and for a woman of my age I am quite proud of my full figure. To my delight I got the post at a very good salary and was told to read the contract carefully, sign it then report to his home every Monday and Thursday to hand in completed work and to collect fresh.

My first task was a 4000 word technical handbook in German and I realised when I started how much I’d bitten off and had to guess at some of the more technical expressions. I handed the work in on the Thursday, collected more and the following Monday I called at his house once more. I was told, to my surprise, that my employer required to see me upstairs in his study. A little apprehensive about going upstairs in a man’s house, I knocked on his study door and was told to enter. He was walking round the small room which contained just two chairs and a desk, clearly in a state of some annoyance. I was told abruptly to sit down and then he looked down angrily at me. He told me there were some fifty technical errors in my translation, minor ones in themselves but enough to invalidate the handbook and render some of it positively dangerous. He accused me of lying about my technical background and, by now close to tears, I admitted it and apologised profusely.

To my distress, he told me apologies were not enough and he would have to invoke the reparation clause in my contract. I was devastated, as if the money worries I already had were not enough, and I pleaded with him to reconsider. At this point, he stilled my pleas and said he was aware of my husband’s plight and our financial situation thus he had no intention of demanding money. Instead, he continued as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he would extract due reparation by the application of a cane across my bottom!

I heard what he said but I couldn’t take it in. At first I thought I’d misheard and the room seemed to go round as I grabbed the seat of the chair.

I felt the blood drain from my face and hands in total shock as I must have just stared open mouthed like an idiot for some seconds. Then realisation dawned, the blood rushed into my face and I became completely hysterical.

Crying and almost retching with disgust and humiliation, I got out of the chair waving my arms around and calling him the most unladylike things, almost anything I could think of, all the time almost squealing in hysterical rage as my pride and my dignity rebelled at the very idea. A respectable and mature married businesswoman with a young son, asked to accept the cane across her bottom for poor performance like some naughty school girl of old. It was beyond comprehension!

He just stood there casually as the storm raged and, of course, eventually it died out and I collapsed into the chair crying and shaking with no strength in my legs. My employer seemd not a whit perturbed by my outburst and offered me a glass of sherry, which I angrily refused. When I had calmed down he said that, my being English, he had expected such an initial reaction as western women had ideas above their station. He told me that his Asian staff were far more resigned to corporal punishment for mistakes and that his three maids were caned regularly. He added that he had employed three English girls previously as translators, most staying with him two years or more, and to each he had offered the choice between canings for serious errors and dismissal. All of them, he said with a grin, had accepted the canings. I shrieked out to him that I was NOT a girl but a respectable married woman who was some years his senior. He told me that age was of no consequence and that if a healthy woman of any age committed serious indiscretions she should be punished with the cane.

I sat there shaking and weeping with disbelief, shame and a whole spectrum of emotions as he stared at me, not unkindly. He told me I had thirty minutes to decide and to go back to the lounge where the maid would get me some tea. In that time I could leave and never return, throwing away a good and lucrative contract, or I could come back upstairs and knock on his door.

I tottered downstairs and collapsed into a chair, my mind a confused jumble of signals. Twice, three times I got up to leave and then I thought of my husband and son reliant on my income and I sat down again, ashamed of my own indecision. Then other thoughts took over as I imagined myself bent over the desk with my skirt up and somehow my husband and son were there looking on in horror. I beat my head in my hands and walked around the room thinking of the options and suddenly realised there were no options. I had a good well paid job, I had lied about my technical expertise which my employer appeared prepared to tolerate if I accepted his humiliating and painful interpretation of due reparation, and what was ten or fifteen minutes humiliation when our livelihoods were at stake?. I just prayed to God that nobody ever found out.

The shame and degradation as I walked back upstairs was now largely replaced by my fear of the cane. I’d never been physically punished in any way and I’d heard the cane was dreadful. How much protection would I have on? How many strokes would I get? He hadn’t said but… I realised I had reached the study and with trembling legs and a thumping heart, I knocked on the door.

As I walked in I froze, for he must have heard me climb the stairs and prepared himself, for in his hands was a 3ft long rattan cane which he swished twice in front of my terrified eyes. All my hysteria was gone and most of my rage, my mind full now of the enormous sacrifice of my dignity I had agreed to make for the sake of my job. He told me he was glad I’d made the right choice then motioned me over to the desk and told me to face the study window. I began to tremble and weep again now as the terrible moment approached, but he quietly told me to take off my jacket and hang it on the chair which I did quickly.

Then he ordered me to take my skirt off. I hadn’t expected that and I gasped with some apprehension but obeyed with trembling fingers and folded it over the chair. Below the waist I was just wearing a half slip and my black panties, Singapore being far too humid for stockings or tights. He ordered me to remove the slip and this time I half protested for although only thin it offered some protection as my panties were extremely brief revealing most of my very ample bottom cheeks. Apart from the embarrassment of bending over in just my knickers, I knew the cane would be striking completely unprotected bottom. He would not listen and repeated his instruction to remove my slip. I did so, red faced and weeping once more, standing in front of his desk in blouse and brief black panties knowing his eager eyes were on my plump bottom cheeks, so bare and visible.

I waited for the instruction to bend over his desk but instead, to my utter shock, he ordered me to take off my panties! At this I half turned in disbelief, my face crimson and my mouth open in protest but no words came out. Instead I just cried in shame. It’s incredible how a brief space of time and the removal of clothing can effect the change between a self confident businesswoman and a humiliated submissive but I seemed powerless to protest or pick up my clothes and walk out. He simply said “In my country women are caned on the bare bottom. Humiliation is part of the punishment. Now hurry up and obey!”

Trembling and crying I pulled my panties down and stepped out of them.

Completely naked below the waist now and facing him, I was ridiculously and shamefully aware of the thick mass of dark pubic hair which I was now presenting to his gaze. Turning back and shaking uncontrollably, I stood facing the window before he told me to bend low over his desk, gripping the far edge securely. I hurried to obey, desperate now to get this over with, my bare bottom now thrust up in a humiliating posture but he wasn’t satisfied. He told me to get my legs apart and to bend lower. I was weeping bitter tears now for it was clear that to his oriental mind, absolute degradation was to be the order of the day. There was no point in protesting for the point of objections had long since passed. I bent lower and spread my legs very wide so that I could achieve his obvious objective that I display my vagina and anus throughout the caning, the sudden delusion that my husband and son were present witnessing all this again filling my mind as I wept in despair..

I steeled myself, gripping the desk very hard as I heard him take a step back then I sensed him raise the cane high and then, with a sickening impact, the first stroke struck the centre of my bare buttocks. All thoughts of shame and modesty were temporarily driven from my mind as my body responded to the most agonising sensation I had ever experienced. A white hot burn scorched my buttocks and the pain began to spread through every nerve ending in my backside. I felt as if a red hot iron had been placed on my bottom. I almost shot upright, but his firm hand on my back pushed me down and he warned me that if I got up it would mean extra strokes. He waited thirty seconds before delivering the second, slightly lower and again with tremendous force which had me screaming in pain but somehow I held my position. Strokes three and four followed rapidly and somehow didn’t seem so bad yet the afterburn caused me to writhe and wriggle across the desk, my lewd and obscene display being even more graphic.

After the first four strokes his firm hands began to rub my bottom, his fingers tracing the weals in my skin and his palms massaging my buttocks very thoroughly. I know now that this was to prevent ‘numb bum’ and was to ensure that I felt the rest of the strokes as keenly as the first but to my shame and horror I began to realise it was turning me on. As a result of my poor husband’s illness I had not had sex for over six months and like a dutiful married woman had tried to suppress my need for it but my God, in this awful, humiliating environment the signals were becoming unmistakeable.

It’s probably no great surprise that any woman lying naked over a table with her vagina and anus on display and with an attractive man massaging her bare buttocks should feel like this but to so unwillingly and so visibly surrender in these circumstances was grossly humiliating. I cried bitterly for my shame was compounded by the realisation that my sexual arousal must be visibly obvious to him. His palpation of my buttocks continued as I writhed and moaned in a now ill disguised sexual choreograph.

As I lay there trembling under his ministrations, I began to believe I was in some sort of a dream fantasy and that soon I would wake up. Here I was a 42 year old housewife and mother whose formative years had been free of any physical correction, who was married to a dear, gentle man who would never dream of laying a hand on me. A woman indeed who had reached an age of maturity which presumed respect and which should preclude even the thought of such debasement. Yet I lay here in the study of virtually a stranger, bent over degradingly and submissively offering my bare bottom to his cane. I began to sob once more at the thought of how humiliating this was and what would happen if my husband or son ever found out. Perhaps worst of all was the shame of his knowing that I was becoming aroused by all this and how much I desperately needed sexual relief.

My reverie was interrupted as he stepped back and whipped the cane in twice more across the lower slopes of my bottom as I screamed in pain and writhed across the desk. He left me for two or three minutes bent over the desk in that lewd and degrading position as he studied his handiwork and, presumably, the obviously engorged state of my labia. He made no comment nor did he make any attempt to interfere with me sexually. This just seemed to be a further punishment in my emotionally and sexually disturbed state for it must have been obvious that I was absolutely desperate for a man’s penis and would have offered no resistance whatsoever. I longed to scream out for him to fuck me but instead I hung my head and cried in utter degradation.

Abruptly he announced that the punishment was over and that he had been lenient as it was my first time. He told me that on future occasions he would be more severe. Then he told me where the bathroom was and said I could go and freshen up before taking the work away for next time. I could hardly look at his face for I was crimson with shame and humiliation as I tottered on unsteady legs, half naked and carrying my clothes, to his bathroom. I first sat on the toilet, painful though it was, and masturbated vigorously, soon bringing myself off in a glorious shuddering climax which left me in tears.

Before I showered and got dressed, I stared at my caned bottom in the bathroom mirror and was astonished. Six neatly laid thick red weals stood proudly above the white skin of my buttocks, the stripes already turning a fine purple shade. The caning had been very painful but I was forced to admit that it had also been incredibly sexually stimulating in a way I would never have believed and I knew at that moment I was hooked. I knew it would take two weeks before those bruises went down and I resolved to be very careful about exposing my bottom in the presence of my husband for at least that period.

After that the procedure became familiar to me and for the rest of my 12 month contract, he caned me perhaps once a month, the strokes now a minimum of twelve increasing to a maximum of twenty four for serious indiscretions.

The only difference after the first time was that I was ordered to strip completely naked for the cane which, strangely after that initial exposure, I didn’t mind and in fact I loved the feel of the cold teak of his desk against my bare breasts as the cane thrashed my buttocks. I only wished he would complete the experience by fucking me but he never did and, in fact, always caned me with clinical objectivity.

Now we are back in England and my dear husband has made a considerable recovery, indeed he has been able to begin teaching again and has recovered some of his sexual urge but I have been left feeling empty and desperate as a result of my belated awakening to corporal punishment and find that in order to be in the mood for sex, I desperately need a good dose of the cane at regular intervals. I cannot tell my husband about this for he would be shocked and distressed so I have written to contact magazines to find willing partners but it is difficult to meet without attracting suspicion and so far my experiences have been unsatisfactory.

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Mabel pulled herself back, her face red with excitement. In here, she murmured, dragging George to the side of the cooking area. We can go to it in the kitchen. She unlocked to the little storage room. No one however me ever goes in here. He moved into the tiny location, let Mabel click closed the door behind them and stared at her in the dimness. She lifted her skirt at the front, then clawed at her crotch with immediate fingers. George saw her panties move down and when the thick growth of pubic hair became visible, he ripped his pants open and dragged out his inflamed penis. Mabel's glance drifted down onto the still thickening shaft, then she jammed her buttocks on a low rack so that she was in a half-squatting position. Her thighs spread out open and the damp, pinkish tissue was revealed. Wet, screwin' cunt, George muttered, taking a unsteady action closer to the female. Don't talk-- simply fuck! Mabel moved her fingers down, pried open the lips of her vulva. George moved between the open thighs, feeling Mabel's hands on his belt, loosening it, letting his pants slip down then her fingers were clutching his butts and pulling his body closer to her, into her with hungry strength. He gripped the shaft of his penis, guided the jerking head into the wet mass of sexual tissue. The walls of her vulva gripped the sides of his dick, sucked it up and into her body. Urgh, Mabel, George groaned, you hot, hungry pussy! She pushed her mouth on his, drawn and bit at his lips as she felt the difficult shaft permeating her. Long, difficult cock, she slavered. You're filling me all of me; you're fucking inside my belly! She jerked herself down, and the stiff dick pushed up more deeply. Like that, she groaned, wincing herself. Fuck me like that!

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George's knees trembled when he bent them to let his organ slide down, then he drove within again, deeper and deeper, feeling the vaginal walls swelling against his throbbing shaft. Oooh, you sweet fuck, he mumbled, trembling with excitement, you're suckin' the strength outa me! Keep fuckin', she said, her voice rough. She attempted to squeeze her thighs together to increase the feeling and the movement of her thigh muscles tightened the grip of her vulva. Oooh, that! George panted, feeling the damp grip of the soft but strong walls of his cock. Keep holding my dick like that! He stumbled himself upward, his dick making damp, sensuous noises as it thrust through the soaking tissue; then he dragged the shaft down, felt Mabel's body trembling against his as the delights pulsated through her flesh. Oh, Georgie-- do not stop! Mabel panted out the words breathlessly and squirmed her buttocks on the edge of the shelf as she drew at his cock with her pulsating pussy. George might feel the head of his cock expanding and contracting and intense slivers of juice started to spasm inside his organ. Mabel, he gasped, I'm gon na-- gon na blow-blow! His voice increased and his in-and-out movements ended up being crazy. Georgie-Georgieeeeh! Mabel tried to stifle the screech that rose in her throat as his swollen organ jammed against the idea of her stiffening clitoris. She wriggled herself urgently, working the hard clitoral suggestionp until she raised her feet off the floor, wedged herself on the edge of the shelf and wrapped her legs around George with her heels jammed into his buttocks, pulling him even deeper inside her sexual cavern. At last, her mouth moved far from George's, her teeth relinquished their grip on his lip and she panted, You charming huge cock, oooh, Georgie-- you drive me fuckin' wild! Soft screwin' pussy, he mumbled, feeling the last dregs of juice drip from the end of his cock. Your cunt was simply built for fuckin'! She gave a out of breath giggle, leaned against him, feeling his softening shaft sliding out of her. I came, Georgie, she whispered. You always make me come-- an'-- she hesitated, then buried her face on his shoulder so that her words were stifled, an' now, will you draw me, Georgie? Hungry pussy, he muttered, constantly all set for more! But he followed, letting his body drop down until his face was level with her stomach. She opened her thighs eagerly, then reached down and stretched the lips of her pussy wide open. The pink, tensed head of her clitoris moved out and George took a deep breath, bent his head and opened his mouth. Like that! Mabel breathed as his lips surrounded her clitoral idea. Suck it into your mouth-- tickle it with your tongue-- bite it, Georgie! He gripped the squirming muscle with his teeth, pulled it far from its warm, wet slot. Mabel made low thrilled noises and braided her fingers in the hair on George's bent head. Stick your tongue up my pussy, she asked in a whisper. He drove his tongue into her, tasting the saltiness of the mix of his and her come-juice, then drew at her clitoris once again. Bubbling groans poured from Mabel's lips and she rocked herself, gradually and sensuously, as George licked, sucked and bit with thrilling sexual commitment. I'm gon na return! The words spurted from Mabel's lips; a violent shiver shattered through her body and she nearly jerked her clitoris from the grip of George's teeth. Now! she gasped, straining herself back, increasing the tension as George's teeth pulled at her clitoris. Now, now, NOW! Her voice rose to a squeal, then worthless babbles of sound ranged from her lips in a torrent as she orgasmed with crazy strength. George released the grip of his teeth, felt the head of the clitoris throbbing hugely against his lips then a shiver diminished his spinal column as the pantry-door opened and an ice-cold voice said; So this is where you are! Still grovelling on the floor, George twisted his head and stared at Mildred Wynton. She was standing in the pantry entrance, face white, eyes glittering. Did I disrupt you-- or had you end up? she asked in a coldly sarcastic tone. Her eyes snapped down to George, focused on his limp penis-- then she glanced at Mabel, first at her face then at her curled-open, soaking vulva.

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tagFetishDearest Phil

Dearest Phil

Dearest Phil,

I've decided to tell you what I love. There's a lot about you that makes me melt inside. That makes me know you're the one. You're very smart. You're wonderful at making me laugh. You know what I like and you never stop loving me no matter what. With you I feel like I belong.

This is why I don't feel bad or unsure about you having full control over me when we have sex sometimes. I enjoy it quite thoroughly. Your hands on my body. Fingers dragging across my back. My ass. My skin. I love every second of it. Could you please do it again? I promise that when you do I'll be the perfect little slut. I'll give myself over to you. All of me. And you can do whatever you wish.

I'd do it all. Anything at all. Just to make you feel good. I'm just here for you to fuck. To make you cum. I want to see the ecstasy on your face when you cum. Either all over my body, have it trickling down my tits and covering my stomach as I lie there; or inside me, spilling from my pussy or making its way down my throat. I want it all. That is the only request I make of you my master. If I cum it will only be for your enjoyment, your pleasure.

You'd lay down the rules. No cumming without your say so. I am to do anything and everything your heart desires. I am your cock whore for the night. I am to answer when talked to. I am to refer to you as master. I will respond to all your queries, speaking when possible. I am to make you feel as good as possible, and to focus only on that. I will prove myself to be a wonderful slave.

It would happen like this.

I'd wake up and notice you still beside me. Asleep and peaceful. A smile playing about your mouth. An idea sparks and I disappear underneath the covers. I find the hole in your boxers and take advantage of it. I pull your half hard dick through and lower my head onto it. Mmmm I love it. I love sucking your dick. I feel how warm and hard it is between my lips. You stir. I stick my tongue out and give you a long, hard lick up your shaft and hear you moan in your sleep.

I stack my two hands on your cock, one on top of the other, leaving just the last inch or more of your seven inch wonder exposed. I begin to softly nibble and lick it. Then I cover it with the wetness of my mouth and suck on it, hard. You begin to awaken. I lick harder. You mumble out loud. "What's going on?" Finally you begin to rub the sleep out of your eyes.

I remove the topmost hand and begin to lick and suck the, now uncovered, portion of your manhood. I hear a sharp intake of breath from you. You close your eyes from the amazing feeling and flip open the covers to find me ass naked, on my stomach, serving your cock. You respond in a playful tone "What are you doing?" I take my mouth away from the task at hand long enough to respond, with an innocent look in my eyes, "Serving you master."

You look at me and immediately catch on. By now you're awake enough and thrust your hips upward a little bit. I let up on my sucking but before long I find your hand on the back of my head, forcing it slowly down. I choke on your cock for the first time. I hear a husky moan emanate from you and increase my licking while you keep gagging me. Oh how I love your moaning. I love when you tell me how good it feels. When you moan. It's all the happiness I did. That and your sweet cum in the end.

"You're a real whore aren't you?" I bob down on your dick again and you moan again "But you're so damn good." The next time I'm gagging on your dick you grab my by the hair and push me even farther in, dragging my head around a bit so my throat muscles really massage your thick hardness. "Oh yeah that feels good." You let go of my head and I just keep on sucking and licking. "You never stop do you slut? Mmmm, oh but you're my slut. My little cock slut. You're suck a slut for my big, thick dick aren't you?" You push my head down again for emphasis. "Aren't you, you delicious look porn-star of a slut? My titty slave answers when she's asked." I look up into your face, mouth still on your cock, and nod vigorously. "Mhmm." My lips vibrate against your flesh making it tingle.

"That's right. You answer your master. I'm your master and your ass is mine. Whatever I say goes. And right now I say that you can't cum without my say so. When you orgasm, when your juices spill, it'll be for me and my enjoyment." I stop sucking you long enough to respond, "Yes master." "Good little slut. Ooooh..." You exhale and your whole body vibrates with pleasure. I'm dripping wet by now, on all fours. I can feel how swollen my pussy has gotten. I just want your dick inside me.

"Enough of this. I want to see what you can do. How much you really want my cock. Get on all fours on the ground and wait for me." I do as you say and before long find myself in cuffs around my ankles, and wrists. To top it all off I find a collar and leash being put around my neck. I feel you crouching or kneeling behind me and before long I sense your mouth by my ear. "Now you are truly my pet. My slave. You are my sexual pleasure. Only mine and my best and most favorite pet." I gasp as you stick your fingers inside me as I kneel there. "Ah...so wet. So eager to prove." You quickly move your fingers inside me. It takes all my energy to focus on not cumming. I almost forget to breathe. "Good. You'll be rewarded for that. But not yet. I want to go slow with you. I want to really..." I hear you licking your fingers that were inside me. "...taste and consume you." I shiver with those words, not quite knowing what you mean or have got planned.

"Get up whore." I stand up and then you instruct me to lay flat on the bed, on my back. You keep pulling the leash until I'm in the right spot on the bed. "Spread your legs and let me get a good look at what I'll be fucking today. You look me up and down and I see the heavy lust in your eyes. I arch my back a bit pushing my tits further into your plane of vision. Slowly starting to feel me up, your eyes stare into mine. Burning into me. I spread my legs farther apart and lift my arms above my head, pulling my boobs up a bit with them and opening them up, opening myself up. You hand feels warm and I melt with its touch. Before long it's traveling back down my body, hitting all the curves, before, suddenly, plunging into my tight wetness again. I moan heavily as you finger me for what it seems eternity, but never cum. Finally, "Lick." You hold your dripping fingers up to my face. I eagerly lift my head and start sucking.

As I do my tits bounce and your other hand grabs at one of them. Squeezing and fondling the nipple, you begin to massage it. You take one of them and rub it in between your thumb and pointer finger. The areolas are swollen to the size of a silver dollar now and begging for attention. My legs are dangling off the bed , along with my ass. Before I know it you're buried to the balls in my pussy, pumping away. Your hands holding my arms down and above my head. "Fuck your pussy feels tight as hell." You growl in my ear. "So wet, so hot. Just how I want it." I whimper in response. "You like me fucking you, don't you? My tittied slut? God, they're wonderful. Ginormous. Fuckable. Supple. Delicious. Mmm, maybe I'll titty fuck you tonight. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" You hit a good spot and we both groan and moan. I can't cum and all I can do in response to your rhetorical questions is bob my head like I'm going down on you and mutter "Yes, master."

Suddenly, you're attacking my tits with your tongue. That gets me hotter than almost anything. You know this all too well. Thankfully you've stopped plowing me and are just inside. I can feel the blood pumping through your glorious shaft, as all my senses are thoroughly heightened by your tit licking. My God you know how to make me submit. You pay especially close attention to the areolas and nipples, but you do not leave the rest wanting. Before long my DD sized breasts are covered in your lips and saliva. You attack the nipples again, telling me to cum and beginning to fuck me hard again. With my legs up in the air to hit that spot and the extra sensitiveness of my nipples, I cum hard, flowing all over your amazing dick, even squirting a bit. My body shakes.

"You loved that you slut didn't you?" You stop and remove yourself. Taking your hand you place your fingers inside my pussy and rub my juices all over my nipples and breasts. You keep doing this until my entire torso is glistening with my juices. "You feel like a dirty whore don't you? Tell me exactly how much of a whore, slut and cock maid you feel and maybe I may consider you cumming." Bend over and tell me whore. Stand." I stand and bend over at the waist, my legs together, baring my pussy for you. "I love being your slutty cock whore. God I love your cock. You have the most wonderful cock master, so big and thick and hard. Mmmm, it kept getting bigger and bigger inside me. I love being just a few holes and a pair of tits for you to fuck. I love you fucking all my holes. Deep, hard and long. I love seeing and hearing how much pleasure I bring you." I hear your sounds of pleasure and I need to stop myself from cumming again. You interrupt me, "Fuck you're such a good slave. Your pussy is dripping wet. And my cock is rock hard. The perfect combination."

You thrust one last time, then push me to my knees. "Turn around my queen whore." I turn and your manhood greets me. "Suck it. You deserve it for not cumming. Suck your juices off." I take your dick in your mouth again and start licking. You exhale sharply and without realizing it your hand is on the back of my head, your pelvis is pushed forward, and I am being gagged with your enormous cock filling my throat. You don't move as the pleasure washes over you. I begin to just flow down my thighs from the thought of your pleasure, reveling in your dick. It's a good 8 seconds before you let up and I can breathe. The combination of everything happening almost has me fainting.

"That felt amazing my cock slut. My fucking whore. Oh how I love to fuck you." You look down into my face as I look up at you. "You have earned a delightful treat." Excitement and wonder fill my eyes. "I want to hear your screams of pleasure. I want to feel your body tremble. I'm going to take my fingers and fuck you until you yell for me to stop. And then I will take you the way I did earlier, legs up in the air and fuck you some more, before I finish with you. Now how does that sound? My sweet, my tittied fuck toy." My eyes were shining as I looked up at you and you tugged on my leash. "Thank you Master! I'd love it. That would be wonderful. May I suck you one last time Master?" You tilt your head, thinking. "I think you can my pet. One more. Choke yourself on it." You roughly tug on my leash again and I envelop it with my mouth and throat. You shudder once before pulling me off.

"Lie on the bed slut. Spread yourself out like you did before." You insert your fingers into me and begin pumping away. My mind stops working. I can't sense anything except the orgasms racking my body, one after another, like waves crashing on a beach. My head isn't functioning anymore. I moan and scream with the crescendos. I babble away aimlessly. "Fuck it feels good... thank you master....omg I love it master....I'm your whore...slut...holes for you to fuck. This feels sooo good.....omg...fuck I keep cumming...fuck...I can't stop...I just keep cumming...master....I've had enough...I can''t...anymore...I..can't...please..." You pay no attention to my mumbling and keep making me convulse. I cum for you.

After several more minutes you stop and let me rest. Soon I hear you command again, with a tug and some pulling on my leash "Stand up and bend over the bed. Now here's what will happen. This is the last position slut, so listen close. I will enter your hot, tight ass, no lube. I will fill you up like this, and maybe you will even cum anally. Are you ready, slut?" You emphasize with a long hard slap to my ass which stings but gets me dripping again. "Yes, master." "Good, now..." I feel the soft tip of your dick probing the opening to my ass. I'm getting wetter. I've been dreaming about this for a few days. Your cock coated in my juices, you swiftly enter. Sharp pain and pleasure mix.

I cry out. You pump a few times and pure pleasure washes over me. I moan loudly. "You love it don't you whore?" You grunt through clenched teeth. "Yes, my master." I exclaim. You pound away. I feel you expanding inside me. You're close. "Please cum Master, I want your cum inside me. I want to feel your pleasure. Please master. Please...My ass is ready. May I cum master." "YES." You exclaim as you shoot into me with your big load. I cum from the sheer power of it, being pushed over the edge. I collapsed from my arched back position as you collapse on top of me.

I hear a contented sigh and know that you're done. "Mmm, happy?" I half smirk at you. "Are you?" You reply. "Oh yes. Quite." I cover you with kisses as you half heartedly pretend to swat me away. "Come on sleepy, let's go have lunch."

I roll you off and pin you down. "And then we'll see if the tables won't turn."

With Love,

Your Alina

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tagIncest/TabooBig Brother, Little Sister

Big Brother, Little Sister

The following is based on conversations my friend and I have had. She is the inspiration for this story's character, Marie Poland. Thank you for the inspiration!

My name is Nate Poland. I am 35 years old, single, available, no kids, a writer of erotica. I have always enjoyed what I do for a living even though it hardly pays the bills. No Nobel Prizes are given for writing smut! Haha!

I have a much younger sister, Marie. She is seven years younger than I. Just as I was graduating from high school she was starting to discover boys. Little did I know the only boy she wanted to discover was her own brother! I found this out one time when I was a senior in high school. I'd always been an active kid. Sports were my life. I lettered in baseball and football so I was very well-built. I am six feet tall, 190 pounds, jet black hair and eyes. I have a big chest, back and arms and well-developed muscles in my lower body. It also didn't hurt to have a nice package between my legs which got its own personal workout after I was done with weights.

It was nothing for me to work out in just my briefs, usually with the door open to allow air into my room. I also didn't have anything to hide so long as it didn't bother my family.

My bedroom window faced directly into the master bedroom of our neighbors, the Hendersons. Perry and Diane Henderson lived next to my family ever since we moved there in 1968. They had three daughters, Tracy, a year older than I, Roxanne, two years younger than I, and Beverly, four years younger than I. They were pretty girls. But, we'd known each other so long I never had any more than friendly interest in any of them.

Roxy and Bev took Marie under their wing when I left home since they were fairly close in age. They did typical girl stuff, gossiping about boys, trying on makeup, shopping and the like, and it was always fun to listen to them giggle as I came home from school every holiday.

One day, a couple of years after graduating from college and temporarily living at home again while my apartment complex was being renovated, I was going through my usual routine of curls, squats and bench press. I was standing with my back to the door, doing curls and wearing just my briefs when I noticed a glare in my bedroom window. I quickly rubbed my eyes to see if I could catch a glimpse. But, it disappeared before I could see what it was. I wasn't hard yet so whatever caught their attention couldn't have been much.

A minute later, I noticed the same figure glaring at me as I resumed my routine. Once again, I couldn't make out the figure. I put down the weights, turned around, and walked into Marie's bedroom. Marie was sitting Indian-style on her floor, going through her music CDs, her hair in pigtails, and wearing a little white halter and matching shorts, looking like your average 18-year-old.

I asked if she'd been playing a trick on me while I worked out. Without lifting her head to acknowledge me, she said she hadn't and I must have heard a noise. Without another word, I went back into my room, and was about to finish my routine, when I saw the mysterious figure a third and final time that day. This time, I focused on it long enough to see the white clothing it was wearing.

I immediately put two and two together and presumed it was, indeed, my little sister spying on me. Why she would do this with me I never could understand then.

I decided to pretend not to notice her the next time I exercised. I quickly undressed completely and jerked off before my routine so I'd be working out with an enormous hard-on. I quickly got huge and hard and put on my briefs again before starting my routine. I'd never worked out in this condition before. But, if it settled this game of sexual cat and mouse with my baby sister it was worth it.

15 minutes into my routine, I saw that familiar smallish figure staring at me through my window. Only this time I could make out the face as being that of my sister whose eyes were as wide as saucers seeing my big dick pointing out, bulging through my black briefs. She was licking her lips as she watched me. When she saw I was watching her this time she quickly vanished.

I purposely waited a couple of minutes, finishing my set of curls, before going into her room to try to talk to her. As I lay down my weights, I could hear the distinct low wail of crying. If that was her I felt awful for playing with her like this.

I walked into her room, and saw her laying face down on her bed, wearing a white tshirt and silk shorts, her legs splayed, her body bouncing up and down. She was, indeed, sobbing. All I could do was sit on the edge of the bed and stroke her neck slowly and tell her I love her. She apologized for spying on me, and told me she loved me, too.

She explained that the Henderson girls always thought I was hot. But, she poopooed their remarks until seeing me work out one day. She explained that she didn't have a lot of luck with guys at school, and figured I was as close as she would ever get to having a guy!

I told her I thought she was being too hard on herself. That she was cute, smart, fun, funny and loving, and any guy who didn't see that was missing out on a special girl. With that, she sat up on the bed, kissed me on the lips and told me she loved me. I told her I loved her also, but, this was as far as this would go with the two of us. Little did I know it was far from the end of this with Marie and I!

A month passed, and things between Marie and I were fine again, once she managed to actually look at me without embarrassment.

A couple of days before I was scheduled to return to my apartment I went to collect the mail from the box on the sidewalk. On the very top was an envelope addressed to me with just my first name typed on it. Apparently, whoever wrote this knew me, or they'd've spent the money to stick a stamp on it, and actually address it.

Once inside, I laid the rest of the mail on the kitchen table, and opened this mysterious note to me. It simply said, once more in typing, as whoever wanted me to read this must have wanted anonymity, to meet them at the hotel downtown the next night at six o'clock. The sender of the note told me to wear my good black slacks, and dark blue dress shirt. I was able to determine that the person sending me this note was female beause they said I'd recognize them by the little black dress and matching boots she'd be wearing. I hoped it was a real female, anyway, and not a drag queen! That would have been sick!

I was further instructed to meet them at the hotel bar, and bring a single yellow rose, yellow being the color of friendship, and order champagne and dinner. Chicken stuffed with water chestnuts, rice pilaf and au gratin potatoes. Whoever fancied me had good taste! I have to admit that, by now, I was intrigued.

That afternoon, I pulled the clothes Ihad been asked to wear from my closet, and ironed them. Once done, I showered and dressed, deciding to go without underwear since the note didn't mention wearing any.

I got to the hotel precisely when asked to, and immediately begin to scan the bar for the woman in black! After about 30 seconds of scanning, I sae the sender of the note in her black outfit. It was Marie! My own sister still had the hots for me! My jaw dropped as I approached the table where she sat. Her little black dress was little all right as evidenced by her standing to greet me with a kiss on the cheek, her hemline barely covering her little ass.

Marie was a cute little brown-eyed blonde with 34 B tits which she told me she thought sagged unless she wore a bra. This was more information than I needed to know. But, she was obviously braless because her nipples were already very hard, poking through the plunging neckline. When I went to hug her, she positioned my right hand on her ass so I could tell she didn't wear panties, either. This she also explained to me was common practice for her.

As we broke our embrace, she looked at me with that look that only a lover gives to another lover. One of smoldering sexuality that said I had better watch out that night.

We sat and ate and actually had fun, laughing and talking! I'd always enjoyed talking to her so it wasn't really awkward to do this. Only the circumstances bringing us together were. I asked what she had planned next. She told me she had dessert waiting in her hotel room. Strawberries, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce. We finished our meal, and headed to her room for dessert.

She said to kick off my shoes to get more comfortable so I did. She excused herself while I helped myself to the food on the silver platter on the table in the middle of the room.

Five minutes later, she walked out wearing a black see-thru nightie, and nothing else. The nightie must have been made by the same people who made her dress as it barely covered her ass. She'd also given up shaving her pussy for a while as she was hairy between the legs now. This embarrassed me to the point of making my penis so huge it hurt as it pressed the inside of the pants zipper. Apparently, she'd found out how much I love hairy pussies!

She noticed how big my penis had become from her seducing me so she reached out with one hand and rubbed me thru my pants. She smiled wide when she realized I was not wearing the briefs she loved seeing me wear so much. She fed me a strawberry drenched in chocolate and whipped cream. I start to moan thru my chewing as she made me cum in my pants. When she saw the wet spot in my crotch she unzipped me, fished her hand inside, pulled out my hard-on and sucked me clean as a whistle!

Once done sucking me off, she pulled off my clothes, and told me to do the same with her. I asked her if she was sure she wanted to do this. All she did was smile. We were now beyond the point of no return. As I slid the nightie over her head, she handed me a condom. I quickly put it on me. She planted her soaking wet pussy on my throbbing member. I got my first real glance at her self-proclaimed saggy tits. They did sag a little. But, I'd seen worse, and they were firm for being so small.

I took a nipple into my mouth as she stroked the underside of my dick with her delicate, crimson-colored nails rubbing up and down. I came in her pussy within two minutes of her doing this. She moaned as I thrust inside her. Her moans got louder every 30 seconds or so. Sweat began to form on her breasts as I heaved in her.

Her ass tightened around my dick as I banged her small but well-used pussy. Apparently, she'd been playing with herself for a long time. 20 minutes later, we were both spent. She thanked me for a wonderful night and being the best lover she'd ever have.

With a big grin I told her the pleasure was entirely mine. But, I told her I was sure she'd have other lovers. She said no one would ever compare to me as we collapsed in each other's arms, and drifted off to sleep, never to do this again. In hindsight, we pleased one another even though that hadn't been my intention.

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Want Free Access to Lorna Maitland Pics & Clips?

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Lorna Maitland Nude

Great Nudity!

A killer California blonde who reportedly sports a 42D chest, Lorna Maitland was discovered by that legendary filmmaker whose body of work boasts the most cantilevered, casaba-cavorting of casts, Russ Meyer. In 1964 he created a vehicle for said devastating discovery, the eponymously titled Lorna, which found his lusty leading lady carousing about topless for the better part of ninety minutes, eagerly engaging in all manner of erotic encounters while her husband works at the local salt mines. Lovers of big, bouncing, bodacious breasts made the film an underground smash, which was undoubtedly the impetus for Lorna's subsequent appearances in two more works by the master, Mudhoney (1965) and the succulently structured stripper documentary Mondo Topless (1966). Lorna gave it all she's got (and she's got it!!!) in a pair of other non-Meyer projects, Hot Thrills and Warm Chills (1967) and Hip, Hot & 21 (1967), before tucking in her wayward wonders and disappearing from the screen altogether.

Top Scenes

Mondo Topless (1966) Nude, breasts, butt 00:32:50 Lorna strolls on the beach, flashing some rump and her big juicy bumps while discussing an audition. (1 min 23 secs)
Lorna (1964) Nude, breasts, butt 00:19:00 Luminous Lorna slips nakedly out of bed to stand by the window in the moonlight. She's got a nice moon of her own, to go along with those bared black-and-white bozooms. (29 secs)
Lorna (1964) Nude, breasts, butt 00:32:00 A creepy fisherman happens upon a different kind of "big one" as he approaches a skinny-dipping Lorna, baring each of her bulbous bobbers and ass-tastick ass. (1 min 42 secs)
Lorna (1964) Nude, breasts, butt 00:27:00 Ah, another day full of nudity is upon us. Lorna hoists herself out of bed to start her morning, presenting us with the sweet treat of her right peak and the tiniest hint of ass crack (of dawn). (13 secs)
Mudhoney (1965) Nude, breasts, butt 01:06:00 Lorna's boobers are barely bobbing above the water's surface when she nakedly taunts a guy treading water. With a kick of her legs, we also get a flash-in-the pan flash of her can. (1 min 11 secs)
Mudhoney (1965) Nude, breasts 00:25:00 Lovely maiden Maitland lets a guy have two brief bits worth of a look at her specacular schmazombas. (18 secs)
Lorna (1964) Nude, breasts 00:19:00 In a montage of her dreaming of big city life, Lorna's truly living the big titty life, going topless and shimmying those schmozobs in fine swinging '60s fashion! (47 secs)
Lorna (1964) Nude, breasts 00:21:00 Lorna makes her man horna! He watches her sleeping seductively with a sheet barrrrrely covering her bare bombers, nipples peeking out sweetly. (30 secs)

Hip, Hot & 21 (1967) - as NA

Hot Thrills and Warm Chills (1967) - as Herself

Mondo Topless (1966) - as Herself

Mudhoney (1965) - as Clara Belle

Lorna (1964) - as Lorna

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Explain It Like We're Vanilla

To ‘vanilla’ people, kink is a foreign land on a foreign planet in a foreign galaxy in a foreign supercluster. In short: we don’t get it. We don’t plan on getting it. But we would like to understand it insofar as what it means to those who do, whatever those kinks may be.

While the TMI threshold of this discussion is necessarily higher than that of your average water-cooler talk, the focus of this thread is not kinky acts but rather the intrapersonal, interpersonal, and (neuro)physiological aspects of them. Any descriptions should be subservient to this focus. Yes, that was an SM joke.

If you’re uncertain of whether something is appropriate, don’t post it. Follow your intuition. Failing that, follow the BB community guidelines. Especially this part:

Keep it clean. Don’t post anything obscene or sexually explicit.

Got that? We don’t want to hear about the details of your kinky adventures. Dan Savage is still taking calls and letters; share your adventures with him. We’ll enjoy hearing about them on Savage Love(cast). Just not here.

Academic interest in the psychology and neurophysiology of kink—especially SM—manages to get research funding every now and then. I encourage anyone to bring those results into this discussion.

Well, as to where kink comes from… I’d say for me it’s childhood experience, and necessity.

I have a fetish I’m pretty much certain I acquired as a small child watching a specific Disney movie. And in pursuit of porn for that fetish later as a teen and adult, I became first less concerned about, then gained an appreciation for common co-tropes that show up often with my fetish (eg Futanari, if you happen to be into anime is pretty common. And while a lot of people really hate futa, a lot of other people can get over their initial disgust and come to appreciate it.)

Or you might already get it, but not realise that. Degrees of intensity, sort of thing.
The only difference between what’s sexyfun and what’s scaryweird may just be where you choose to draw the line.

Ask a librarian and ye shall receive. Emma Turley, “‘Like nothing I’ve ever felt before’: understanding consensual BDSM as embodied experience.” Psychology & Sexuality. Jun2016, Vol. 7 Issue 2, p149-162. 14p.

If you’re going there, you might as well use “the definitive guide” for identifying just how “vanilla” or how “kinky” you may actually be:

http://www.puritytest.net/test/500/

I am not the author of that quiz nor have I ever attended MIT (which is where that version first surfaced.)

Furthermore I am well aware that it’s needlessly long and redundant; of 500 questions, at least 200 are duplicates.

Lastly, if any of the questions squick you out, welcome to the club; before taking the Purity Test for the 1st time, I’d never even heard of half the stuff therein.

Of course that was all 20 years ago, but nevertheless…

Funny you say that, because I now recall Savage observing that he gets calls from vanilla-identified people who have recently dated someone kinky and who then discover that they enjoy one of their partner’s kinks (or aspect thereof). So yeah, totally possible.

I have friends who frequent fetish/kink shows and events, and in my experience, 99% of the time those words are meant as synonyms for leather, bondage, light S&M, and dominance. At least in terms of merchandise and sexy images sold to the public.

@Wanderfound mentioned in the parent thread that they don’t get sadism, and while it’s not my thing in any way at all, it’s interesting seeing friends who are into it. One friend of mine is the most kind, soft-spoken, tender guy I know, a vegetarian who can’t bear the idea of animals being hurt. And at some point not long ago he discovered he really likes to punch. It’s not even entirely sexual, but it’s a huge stress reliever to take out aggressions, and happily, there’s people who really enjoy getting punched. So a lot of kink is simply about finding mutual interests.

And probable. It’s the rare individual who accepts the vast range of sexuality within without feeling at least some initial feelings of guilt, shame, etc. Just because we recognize that culture preferences heteronormative mores doesn’t mean we can escape its clutches unscathed.

“The four-piece, Sexy Librarian costume includes a mini dress with back slit, vest with buttons, collar with attached tie and wrist cuffs. Stockings, book and glasses not included.”

Another thing I’ve read is that those who are into sadism are actually more empathetic than the average person. You have to be in order to do it right. By appearances, the dom seems to be in control when in fact they’re keenly attentive to the sub who is, effectively, calling the shots—er, shocks. Whips. Whatever.

As a rather kinky person and a cook, I hate, hate, hate the term “vanilla” as applied to non-kink. Vanilla has only been a plain or boring flavor for those who are too stingy to use enough of it.

I think it’s rather judgemental to suggest that the explicitly sexual isn’t “clean”.

I think it’s better to treat kink like DIY/Maker culture and for people to be completely open about it, exploring and sharing ideas and experiences about what works for them and why. Hiding it just seems so neurotic! Imagine a maker blog or forum where people were expected to dance around not explicitly showing or discussing their projects! Yet - that’s what people do with regards to sexual play.

Even though my sexuality is almost entirely non-normative, I don’t fit into many kink communities because I do not relate to BDSM at all, and kink communities often seem overwhelmed by it. I think that most people are mired in quaint power games in their real daily life, and it is hard for me to understand people wanting to indulge that deliberately. Since the status quo of primate interpersonal politics is more or less like BDSM, I think it is far more “normal” than most like to admit.

And for purposes regarding this particular discussion, the whip is NOT included either. Caveat emptor.

There are also many online quizzes to determine what interests/activities you have in common. Useful for negotiating BDSM play when you really, really need to know boundaries, they can often be handy for couples who wold maybe like to try something new, but aren’t comfortable with admitting it.

It can be surprising what you might have in common.

I left this for someone else to say but now that you’ve said it, thank you! Vanilla is one of the most complex aromas on the planet. Try to describe it and you’ll find yourself twelve words later still grasping for its essence. The reason why vanilla has become associated with plainness is because of all the cookies and ice creams containing, as you said, a stingy amount of it.

A well made vanilla ice cream is a revelation and the mark of a serious ice cream maker.

All I’m willing to say is that I’ve marginally expanded my personal boundaries over the last 20 years; the first time I took the aforementioned quiz I scored 69.6 “pure.”

It’s not quite that high a number anymore.

Okay, I’ll admit, I didn’t go look at the website (the 500 questions intimidated me) but it ranks you based on “pure”? For real? They use the word “pure”? That’s deeply disturbing to me, way more than any kink out there.

It should have subtlety, nuance and complex layers, much like sex. And enjoying thermonuclear levels of chile doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy a sublime ice-cream.

I hate the term when referring to sex. It’s unnecessarily divisive and carries weird crypto-racist undertones to me.

But, food as an analogy for sex, I totally get. The two are mentally very closely aligned for me.
Which may be heading into the TMI zone…

Suddenly quiet on this thread as well all go take this test … 11 test-takers online right now. Wonder how many of us?

For lack of a better adjective, yeah; they do.

1 Like

Probably one of the most contentious aspects of my own sexuality as compared to “norms” I encounter is that I consider sex to be a social activity, rather than an inter-personal activity. It is a way for people to meet are share of themselves, a way of building community. Not a way of getting sentimentally attached to other individuals. I think that looking for attraction and personal chemistry tends to be selfish and anti-social. If I care for those around me by providing food and shelter, why should sex be any different? Somehow, this strikes many people - even leftists - as far more scandalous than “do what you like in the privacy of your own home”.

One way to try to get some traction with this I think is to introduce some seasonal community ritual. Like an annual town orgy, for instance. Like any other great holiday festival, but with openly sexual elements. As obvious as this seems to me, I have never been able to generate much enthusiasm for the idea in others. But since I raised myself as a communist non-western citizen, this outlook should perhaps not be surprising.

1 Like


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