Forecast: Tuesday 8/12/2014


  Forecast for Tuesday, 8/12/2014


Brain Fog Guy

Total and utter brain fog
increasing in density
with a good chance of
zero-visibility brain fog
continuing through the night.
All avenues, in and out,
are closed for the duration.
Nevertheless, write recklessly
and with complete abandon.
Your pen knows how to
get you there safely!


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07/29/2014: The Hard Way


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The Hard Way

Jazmine stared out the window reviewing her actions of late. I’m new to being His slave all the time, she thought, He should have accounted for that, but even she couldn’t let herself off that easily.

Sir Reginald had been patient with her, at first. Their first twenty-four hours had taxed her more than she expected. Still, Jaz was disheartened that he’d been so courteous their first night. He turned down the bed, snuffed out the candles and laid her gently on the bed. She lay in expectant anticipation imagining his large, rough hands seeking all the places that pleasured her beyond measure… until she heard him snoring.

She suffered through the next day with nerves causing her to lock her jaw. Sir Reginald was kind that she had slightly over-cooked the meal, which she served as graciously as she could, but he noticed her stilted gait and clipped responses through clenched teeth. He tried to explain that night, but she was strained beyond recovery,

“I wasn’t neglecting you, Jaz. I meant to give you much-needed rest,” He said without guilt.

“Rest,” she questioned with a screech, “You! You! You!”

Before she could find an appropriate expletive, He scooped her up and banished her to an empty room.

Even now she cringed, picturing herself lifting the milk pitcher and hurling it against the wall behind him. Milk splashed him, soaked the walls and shattered glass scattered, sticking to him and littering the floor. She knew this would take a grand apology.

“Total subservience. Absolute obedience,” she whispered to herself, moving to the door he had turned the lock on, “He must forgive me.”

She knelt leaning face-down prepared to accept her fate, knowing she deserved whatever he would do for punishment, I learn the hard way, but I do learn.


By Wildfire8470

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The Wedding Date

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The Wedding Date

Don-The Wedding Date

Delia was in love with Don on sight even as a little girl, though she would sooner have bitten her own tongue off than admit it.

Originally, he was the boy next door and she, the victim of his incessant teasing. When he wasn’t pulling her pigtails or getting her in trouble at school, he would punch her arm good-naturedly, but always a little too hard.

She smiled softly now. For all these years he made sure she would think of him constantly. The bruise on her upper-arm was testament to that. It stubbornly remained there throughout grammar, junior, and senior high school.

She couldn’t have imagined, feeling more than disdain for Don, and was relieved he didn’t know what she thought of him then. Now, post-college graduation, the two stood outside the local market staring in disbelief.

“Delia?” He asked as his eyes raked her appreciatively.

“Don? Is it really you?”

“Yes,” he laughed, “You’ve changed.”

“Thanks, I think,” she quipped.

“Have dinner with me,” he said, “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

“I don’t know,” Delia stalled

“Let’s take this one night to get reacquainted. C’mon. What do you say,” he asked with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Remembering that it was pointless to argue with him, she agreed warily. As she turned to go, he spun her around, kissed her deeply, socked her upper-arm and said, “I’ll pick you up at nine. We’ll get married tomorrow.”

Delia stood gasping; trying to catch her breath as she watched his solid frame walk away. She called after him, “You’re joking, right?”

“You’ll have to risk a date with me to find out,” he said with a wicked smirk.

Contrary to years ago Delia smiled brightly in spite of herself, whispering, “Happy Valentine’s Day to me!”

By Wildfire8470


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01/20/2014: Fiona’s Firsts

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Fiona's Firsts

Fiona made a conscious choice, “So why am I questioning it now,” she wondered, “I wanted a break from being strong. Didn’t I?”


Sir Dante’s voice came through the door, slicing through her thoughts and striking her soul, “Bend over more. This is the last time you go out drinking and forget to call me. I was worried sick, Fiona.”


She bent gripping the edge of the bed, feeling guilty and completely out of her element. “I run a friggin’ company. I give orders to men,” she warred with herself, “and I never thought he would actually… Ouch! Fucking hell! God damn it,” Fiona screamed as the crop landed sharply, scoring her perfect ass.


He took a seat, dragging her over his knee by her hair and slid his hand between her thighs. She was soaking wet. Dante smiled in the darkness, “Repeat after me, “I will not fail you again, Sir. I surrender.”


Fiona hesitated, uncertain if she wanted to cry, slap him hard, or beg for more. “I will n, not, ohhh, owww…shit,” she paused to rub her scorched bottom. He wrenched her hand behind her, whipped her again, and snaked two fingers into her wetness. She stumbled over the words while he enjoyed tormenting her. One more fall of the crop made her she scream them loudly.


Dante held her closely then, kissing away her tears. They made love like never before. Her words were no longer forced. Fiona repeated them like a magical incantation, whispering, “I surrender,” until climax forced their surrender to each other.

By Wildfire8470

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