writingdirty

Dirty stories by Jack Stratton

Tag: spank

The Callipygian Sublimation


Title image by itsholly. CC BY-NC 2.0

She is a candy stranger. Perfect in the way someone you don’t know at all can be perfect. Her small breasts and her large hips and soft swell of an ass that seems nearly impossible on her tiny frame. Her thin waist and her wild hair. That exoticness that is so difficult for people to get right.

She is new to this, but she’ll do just fine. In fact, it’s hard to find regulars with an attitude so perfect for these games. Right for me, that is. Everyone wants something different from places like this. The Venn Diagrams of our emotional, physical and sexual wants. Cross-indexed by our needs.
Continue reading

Co-Hypno-Topping

or Jack and Wendy Will Beat Your Ass You Until You Come

Trilby is a hypno-fetishist. Hypnosis has always been something I have been both interested in and conflicted about. I’m a skeptic. This isn’t just a statement about my not taking capital “T” Truths at face value, it is actually a philosophical and a political stance that greatly effects how I look at the world.

The things I’ve read about hypnosis were often inconclusive, ambivalent or simply too vague to verify.

I met Trilby a while ago and I was fascinated from our first conversation about hypnosis and specifically erotic hypnosis. The idea of controlling someone, specifically their sexual reactions, has always been one of my biggest kinks. Not to mention the fact that Trilby was bright, cute and hysterically funny.
Continue reading

A Casual Beating

In this new life, I have slipped into a variety of completely new relationships. I’ve always been the kind of person who has a small circle of very close friends and I tended to shy away from the masses of acquaintances people seem to collect in this city. Now I seem to be joining ever-growing groups of interesting and open-minded people. This has led to months of fun, flirty and often fierce conversation. In some ways these connections are almost better than all the sex and exploration. (Almost, but not quite.)

I hadn’t considered my sadistic side very much until about a year ago. If anything, I had often thought that I was squeamish about really hurting someone and that might be a real hindrance to being a dom. After a few enthusiastic scenes and I found that the little seed of a sadist in me was starting to bloom. The key, I realized, was playing with masochists.

It’s funny how your personality changes in certain situations. I’ve noticed all these parts of myself that come out when I am doing certain things. The seducer, looking at sex as a challenge and an artform. The toppy boyfriend, with his sarcasm and teasing. The daddy, who is overprotective while being dirty. The aspiring rigger, with his knitted brow and stern focus. The sadist, who is almost constantly wearing an evil grin and always thinking of the next form of torture.

So as I was saying, besides the cadre of smart and sexy friends with whom I converse, there are a few smart and sexy girls that I beat up on a somewhat regular basis. It’s interesting, because in general these are not exactly sexual relationships, though certainly they all have sexual elements. Mostly, though, they are about administering pain.

For example, here is a tale of a girl – well not really one girl but sort of an amalgam of a few people I know. There are too many scenes in my head and writing about the important parts of each would take too long. But basically, this is what I’m talking about…

We had been on a few dates, after work drinks, talking and flirting and exchanging the social currency of anecdote and background.

In this time we used the complex mating language of eyes and subtext to explain our emotional availability. We danced around our proclivities. We ferreted out kinks and occasionally just came out and owned our desires.

Negotiation came later. By then we had reached that plateau of reasonable trust and adequate acquaintance. The fourth date would be at my apartment.

She was on her mid twenties, bright, educated, good job, interesting life. The city seems to either breed the complicated or pull them magnet like from all points of the compass.

Dark hair with severe bangs and thick glasses. She had a wealth of interests which showed her curiosity, which to me is the most important virtue. She was cute if not pretty but her style brought her look up. She knew how to wear clothes. She was an artist through and through, but more than that she was an artist who could make a living which was certainly a precious thing in this city.

“I’m a masochist,” she said rather plainly. “I had a boyfriend who I finally convinced to spank me, but he never hit hard enough and it always just left me unsatisfied.”

“‘I don’t want to hurt you, baby, I love you,’ is what he’d say.” she quoted in mocking a luggish tone.

I understood very well. The spanking was the gateway from vanilla to kink in many ways. It was still socially acceptable, if a bit risky by Cosmo standards. Still for many it was a glimpse of that new world we wanted to explore a lot more thoroughly.

Back at my apartment we had giddy grins and drinks. A conversation on the couch about work and the world, while both of us shifted closer and thought about how to start things.

“So, you liked that last story I wrote, hm?” It’s a way to gain a little control and bend the conversation towards where we both want to take it.

“Yeah, you could say that. I think I came six times. I soaked my sheets.”

I watched her eyes, there was some instinctual shame, but she actively fought it. She wanted to be bold, she wanted to own it.

“Well, I guess you owe me.” I said, reaching over and caressing her breasts, finding the nipple, pinching it roughly as I watch her reaction.

It was silly, really, but nothing is better than a little ego-stroking to build one’s confidence. I moved in and kissed her, then my hand moved up to her hair and pulled her head back so I could drag my teeth across her naked neck.

I’ll skip the rest of the beginning. I’ve certainly told the tale of a girl being bent over the arm of my couch and spanked far too many times. I will say this: While spanking her and getting her warmed up I did what I always do to partners in this situation. I progress quickly at first to find that line, how much they can take. There is always that level when they start squirming away from the blows. Some of them say “ouch” or the ones who are more experienced in more formal scenes even say “yellow”.

I kept hitting her and measuring and there was no yellow point. Harder and harder I spanked, but she gritted her teeth and took it. The few times I leaned over her body and whispered my little check-up questions into her ear, she just nodded. She was fine, I should keep going, harder.

That’s when I knew I was going to get to cane someone for real.

I only have one cane, though I am looking to remedy this. It is long and black and thin, sting-y and direct.

It’s sad, but I have to chide myself and force myself to start slow. I knew she had to be warmed up. I knew I had to be patient and calculating.

She is obedient and follows my every direction perfectly. Frankly it was all really more sensation play than dominance. A beating, not a punishment. I don’t want her to call me “sir,” I just want her to do what I say and take every stinging lash.

When I start, it is just a little bounce of the cane on her naked ass. Her skin is red from the spanking and flogging, with a circle of light purple where I had hit her the hardest, but the cane makes fresh and crisper red marks. Lines form, even from this light bouncing.

That first real hit, that first time the cane cuts through the air, is perfect. When the first blow lands her back arches. She takes it, but it is a lot even for her. She has only ever really had hands spanking her. I hit her three more times, once on each cheek and then once across both. Her hands don’t come up to protect her tender flesh the way other girls’ have, but she is suddenly still. I let the pain reverberate. I let her feel it and process it. I put my hand on her back and steady her, let her know I understand that it hurts and I am letting her deal with it.

Each time leaves three lines, red, then white, then red again. As I bounce the cane on her skin again I see that the four hard hits have started to bruise already. It makes me hard. It makes me giddy. I want to ruin her. I want to mark her. I want her to feel these marks all week and get wet every time she sits down and winces.

I go to work on her, bouncing the cane harder, making little syncopated rhythms that I remember my drummer friend taught me. I wait until the skin is red and hungry and then I hit her hard a few times, relishing each. I hit her harder, pulling my hand back farther and taking full swings that turn purple immediately.

She finally breaks a little and lets out an “ouch.” She doesn’t block me, though, she just slumps forward a little. I soothe her, I continue the bouncing as I pull her back into place. I place medium hits on spots that aren’t bruised. There is some minute change in her reaction and I take it as a sign we should move on for a bit.

When I pulled her up, her legs don’t respond properly and I am holding her. I laugh and push her against the wall. She gasps and smiles. I know the white wall is hard and cold.

My hand moved down her body and slips between her thighs. She is so wet her thighs are slick. She buries her head in my shoulder as the pleasure overtakes her for a moment. I push her away. It’s not cuddling time. It’s not pleasure time. Those will come.

I slapped her breast hard. Her eyes flash open. I cup each one and slap it down. She looks unsure how to take this. She is squirming.

“Do you like that?”

She nodded quickly, eagerly.

“Has anyone done this before?”

She shook her head. It’s hard for her to talk when she gets in this space. Important to note and damn adorable. I slap her harder, focusing on her nipples. Slap, slap, waiting for her wince, measuring out the limits of this new activity.

“Why do you like it?”

“It hurts.” She has that sort of look in her eyes that tell me that this was once something she was ashamed of, but now she was proud, or at least comfortable. Her tongue is thick in her mouth and it is hard for her to create sentences now, but she tried to continue.

“I also like it because I can see it. Usually it’s my ass and I can’t see it happen.”

I devour the flush in her face when she says this. This is useful information. Information means I can hurt her in more complicated ways.

I hit her breasts a few more times and relished her winces. She is so tough when I am spanking her, but her breasts are a lot more tender and she isn’t used to the sensations.

I was thinking of how else I could hurt her while she watched it happen. I like the idea of that. I remembered back at a sex conference when I watched a guy give a caning demo. It was really the first time I had ever seen someone get caned and the first time it really clicked that hitting someone and making marks on them was something I needed to do.

The top had his demo bottom sit on a table and he caned her lap. Talking to all of us as his rattan cane bounced up and down on her thighs. Progressing from tapping to hitting as she squirmed and moaned. That seemed perfect now. I got a towel and put it down on the cushion and then had her sit on said towel.

Probably my most powerful urge, one that’s been around a lot longer than sadistic desires, it to make a woman have an orgasm. Not help, not assist, but make. To force her to come. To have control over her body and her pleasure and to use a significant and powerful human reaction as nothing more than a tool for my amusement.

This whole time I was fully dressed. That was part of the scene, though I didn’t realize that for a while. She was a plaything, being stripped and used and played with. I was playing and amused by her arousal and entertained by her pain. She was naked because she is a slut and I am dressed because I am above the base needs she is tormented by, or so the game goes.

I got out some toys, fresh from ziplock bags, sterile and ready.

Some girls go into a dreamy place when they are being beaten. Some get feisty and fight back, kicking and cursing. This girl smiled, eyes just out of focus, and she giggled as she was hurt.

I plugged into the wall my favorite vibrating implement and shoved it between her half closed legs. I pushed her back a bit, manhandling her, and got the head of the condom covered toy against her clit. I closed her legs against it, letting the towel and her thighs hold it in position. As I turned it on I struck the tops of her thighs again with my cane.

She bit her lip, she ground against the vibrator and then winced as the cane left thin marks on her legs.

I switched to the riding crop, taking it to her breasts, the only place so far I was able to get a real reaction. I hit the tender bottoms of each breast, then the sides, the quick snaps on the nipples that made her cry out.

When I flipped her around, her knees on my couch and her arms and head hanging over the arm she was starting to get disoriented. I liked it when the pain and pleasure made them stupid. It is the point when you can really start to have fun.

I let loose with the cane a few times, the marks I had left before now a sharp violet. I crossed those line with fresh red and that made her jump. She wasn’t so tough anymore and when she pulled away from the cane I went to work on her with the vibrator.

This cycle started, cries and yelps followed by moans and whimpers. The cane and then the vibrator until she whined every time I pulled the vibrator away. I hit her a few more times and then held her down and pressed the vibrator on high against her sopping sex.

She mewed and tensed and came hard against me, pulling at my arm. When she was done pulled the vibrator away and just as she sighed in relief I pushed it back against her now over sensitive clit.

She fought against the overstimulation, but I held it to her, I let her ride it out until her hips were bucking again and she came even harder.

When she came down this time, I sank into the couch next to her and held her as she gasped for air and shivered. I petted her hair and smiled at her and soothed her, careful not to touch her still hot and stinging ass.

When we finally got up I saw something spectacular. It was my first real masterpiece. Her ass was almost uniformly purple with lines of wine red and angry pink and speckles of her pale skin showing through. I spun her around and marveled at it. Her thighs had a few scattered lines but nothing like her ass.

It was perfect. She kept touching the raised marks and smiling at her little prize. She was just as happy as I was, because this was the first time she’d gone this far and gotten when she’d been fantasizing about.

Through that next week I emailed her, checking in on the progress. The bruises lasted weeks. Those first few days she could hardly sit and she had to go to the bathroom of her office and finger herself because the pain was so intense and the memories so inescapable.

Let Go

It started with Jones from accounting. He was called into an office, so routine, and then security came and unplugged his computer. Donna Moore was next, she was some kind of account rep. In a week Baker, Lee and Hernandez were all gone.

They all walked out of that office with same dull numb looks on their face, like they’d seen a ghost.

They took on all of accounting and all of the account reps, cutting roughly a third of their numbers. Though I had some evidence I was safe, you never know.

Katie had been this ever-present force in my office life. Nothing serious, nothing real, just flirting. A passing glance, a little smile, a look that lasted a second too long. We never even really spoke much but she suddenly became my best friend when the trouble started.

She would swing over to my desk when the smokers went out on their breaks. We had the bond of the clean lunged.

I had always noticed her. Tallish, a little broad shouldered and obviously originally from the Midwest. Some of those Midwest girls have a certain build; a little stocky like field hockey players – and they never lose that. She was that type, but with the poise and fashion sense of someone who had lived in Manhattan for a few years. Shoulder length chocolate brown hair that was shiny and smooth, a very expensive cut. She wore designer clothes and had a million shoes. She liked to look good and smell good. Continue reading

Fiction – Halloween

A story inspired by a Halloween costume one friend wore and a fantasy another friend told me about.
Continue reading

What is in a Name

This post involves Daddy/little girl roleplay. Everyone involved is over eighteen.
Continue reading

Review – The Curve by Fun Factory

I have been told I have good hands. I have thick fingers. I know what to do when fingering a girl and I love doing it. It can be a whole body experience, not just sitting on the couch with your hand awkwardly shoved down her pants (though that’s fun, too). You can get into it, have her on her back with her leg on your shoulder as you drive your fingers into her. Throw her on her hands and knees while you pump her and spank her from behind while pulling her hair.

A bend of the fingers towards her pubic bone and you can hunt for that little bean, that textured spot, the elusive g-spot, the one that makes a girl go from breathing hard to moaning and begging. Lovely.

But let’s face it, your fingers and arm can get tired. You can switch hands every once in a while but the worst thing you can do when fingering a girl is break the rhythm. You almost have to start over once you break the rhythm. More than the thrusting, keeping constant pressure on the g-spot can be rough.

Enter VibeReview.com and the wonder and beauty of the Curve by Fun Factory. Now I had heard things about Fun Factory, basically that they were awesome and their toys were well made, well thought out and they had nice packaging and so on. Even knowing all this I was impressed when I got The Curve.

The package was slick, with little magnets on an outside flap and a general design that made you feel you were getting a quality piece of equipment. Opening the package and laying eyes and fingers on the Curve you know you are getting quality.

This was my first silicone toy and really besides glass and metal I don’t I will ever go back to any other material. It is pretty much perfect for a sex toy. The feel is a little dry, but not at all tacky. With just a little lube it become super slick while retaining some friction. It has a nice weight to it and the firmness was pretty close to what an mostly erect penis feels like.

The Curve is all matte silicone with one swirly strip of more glossy silicone around the head. Also on the bottom of the head lies the secret of the Curve, a very prominent lip that really seems to hit the g-spot perfectly.

Now, I can’t say exactly how the thing feels, as an anal novice I think it is a bit much for me, but from thorough testing with partners I can say this thing is ridiculously good. In fact you can get that “Oh My God, What the Fuck!?” kind of reaction where they are looking at this funky purple thing and thinking “What’s the big deal, it doesn’t even vibrate?” and the next minute they are squirting.

Oh and it can make girls squirt, make no doubt. If a girl can squirt than she will with The Curve. The shape seems perfect for partnered play because you can really get a firm grip on the Curved handle of it and either gently push it in and out for a leisurely fuck or really pump it hard and fast. Plus if you gently push down on the handle the Curve of the top will push up and really pummel the g-spot (The is a good thing!)

As all toys your milage will vary. I’m sure it will be too much pressure fore some and I can imagine the hook on the bottom of the head can be a bit much for people who are not used to g-spot stimulation.

From the polling I’ve done (snicker) the girth is good, a little thinner that lets say – me. This is good, I don’t want to be totally out shined.

All in all it is a winner. It is a one trick pony, but I think it is far more important to do one thing well than doing a lot of things fairly.

Girls, if you like having your g-spot stimulated and you like to have big orgasms, get this toy.

Boys (and girls who like girls) if you want to get a girl addicted to coming over and playing with you then throw this in your toy box. Just remember three things:

1. Boil this bad boy between partners. You can clean it with soap and water if you are only going to use it with one person, but if you are going to use it with multiple partners you really want to submerge it in rapidly boiling water for 3-5 minutes. It is the most magical property of medical grade silicone! You can completely sterilize it.

2. If the girl is a squirter or even if she doesn’t know she is, bring a towel just incase. It’s awesome to see a girl squirt. I get giddy like I just won something at a carnival, but it can get messy.

3. No matter what she says and what she offers to do to you and/or your penis don’t let her take it home with her!

I’m giving the Curve by Fun Factory FIVE big stars out of five. It’s perfect. I like to be fair and give some counterpoints to all the positives, but I can’t think of one. Maybe throwing a vibrator in this toy somehow might make it even better but I think its simplicity is part of it’s charm.

And thanks to VibeReview.com for giving me the chance to try out this stellar toy!

Writing Prompt – Spanking

A story about spanking
Continue reading

Review – Fetish Double Slapper Paddle by Topco

Crack. The sound echos. It makes your ears perk up a little.

So I’m at Pleasure Salon with a variety of people. I got this little paddle delivered to my office so it was sitting in my messenger back and I couldn’t help but take it out and show it off. There is something wonderfully playful and serious about the Fetish Double Slapper. It’s a lovely jet black faux leather with a studded handle, so it is kind of bad ass. Still, it has a heart cut out, which shows a playful side. If I were a sex toy I think I would be the Fetish Double Slapper Paddle by Topco.

The simple brilliance of the design of this paddle is the two layers of faux leather that slap together as you whack your target. Not to say that this toy doesn’t pack a real stinging punch, but the bark is worse than the bite, which is often ideal when you want a lot of theatrical sound without really making a bottom bruised.

Anyhow, at this party there are a few bare asses walking around and since I was playing with this lovely toy a few of them did make their way to my table. Being the generous person I am (and also because I was sitting in the middle) I handed the paddle off to Wendy Blackheart. She gave Selina Fire a few swats and even in a crowded room with music and laughing and flirting the sound cut through and more than a few heads came up to look where the sound was coming from.

Well, I was sold. I couldn’t wait to try it for real. I think the question that comes up the minute you get it in your hand is “does it make heart shaped marks?” The answer is yes!

It isn’t a particularly cruel item. The shape and the nature of the toy sort of impede real beatings, but it is fun and it is sexy. It gives a stinging “wake up” spank and leaves a nice red mark with a little heart.

On top of all that it is a very inexpensive toy. It is well made, in fact I can imagine having it for a long time. Leaving it about will instantly tell a partner or perspective parter a whole lot of things at once. You are kinky, you like to spank (or be spanked) and you are also fun and playful.

Thanks Eden Fantasy for letting me test out and review this little bad boy. Check out all of their fun toys!

Prose: Pet

We start kissing in the cab, my hand sneaking under her dress when the driver isn’t paying attention. She was waxed clean and smooth and always wet, my little pet, and that made it so my fingers slipped right in perfectly. She slaps me away, wanting to be a good girl until we get inside.
Continue reading

© 2014 writingdirty

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑