Archive for mf

A leash for punkin

Posted in Fiction with tags , , , on September 7, 2009 by scarlettbottom

“C’mere, punkin.” He patted his knee.
“What, Daddy?”
“I’ve got a present for you.”
“You do!?”
“Yep. Turn around.” He slid the straps around her chest and shoulders, and buckled them with a click. Then he snapped the leash onto the D-ring on the back, underneath the stuffed animal back pack.
“Does it fit okay?”
She squealed: “It’s pink and Big Bird!”
“Yep, it matches your dress, punkin. Let’s go to the park.”

They made their way toward the park slowly. Punkin needed to stop and pick flowers and look at the chalk drawings on the sidewalk. She showed off her new backpack and lead to anyone who would stop to pet her. She collected pretty rocks, carefully stowing them in the small pocket. When they arrived, Daddy said, “I’m going to let you off your leash, but come back when I whistle, okay? Don’t run too far so you can’t see me.”

She ran away towards the playground. Daddy followed at a leisurely pace, tucking the leash into his pocket. His eyes followed the little spot of pink, bouncing around the playground, swinging, climbing, playing with other children, before she disappeared over a rise. Daddy continued his stroll, until he reached the top of the hill. On the other side was a wide grassy field where people let their dogs run around and play together. Punkin was kicking an abandoned tennis ball around.

Daddy whistled. That ball was too dirty for precious punkin to touch. She picked it up and ran over to him.
“Drop it.”
The ball fell to the grass. “But I found it!”
“It’s too dirty. Don’t argue.”
“Keep that up and we’re going home, young lady.”
“That’s enough.” Daddy hooked the leash to her harness and tugged roughly. Punkin pouted as she was half dragged home.

Inside, Daddy sat down on the sofa.
“Punkin, pull down your panties.”
Frowning, she slowly followed directions.
“C’mere, punkin.”
“Lean over my knee.”
“Lift up your skirt.”
“Do you know what you did that was naughty?”
“Yes, I talked back.”
“That’s right. How many spankings should I give you?”
“Alright. You count them out loud. Ready?”
Smack. “Ow! One.” “Two.” “Three.”
“Brave girl. Now go stand in the corner with your skirt up until the timer goes off.”

Punkin made a pretty picture, standing in the corner alone, nose to the wall, dress up around her waist. Her leash hung loose down her back and coiled on the floor.


Another Sucker

Posted in Fiction with tags , , , on July 21, 2009 by scarlettbottom

I held the tip of Daddy’s cock in my mouth, running my tongue around the head, pressing gently just below it.

With my eyes closed, I felt Daddy spread my knees open. His hands trailed down the inside of my thighs, to my now dripping pussy. Between the spanking and being allowed to lick Daddy’s “sucker,” I was embarrassingly wet. His fingers traced up one side, over my clit and down the other between the delicious folds. I could barely concentrate on Daddy; he freed my mouth to better hear me whimper. His cock still rested on my lips and I moved my head so that it traced my lips.

I felt a new sensation on my pussy. I was confused for a second, but then I realized, it was my cherry sucker. Daddy rubbed it’s smooth-worn surface over my clit, dipping between the lips, rubbing deeply. I raised my hips involuntarily. “Good girl.” Daddy rubbed the sucker over my lips where his cock had just been. Slick with my juices, I took the sucker into my mouth.

Daddy alternated “suckers,” first the slippery sucker, then Daddy’s cock, until I couldn’t distinguish any difference in flavor. Even my empty mouth tasted like me and Daddy and delicious sweet cherry.

Daddy made me roll over on my belly, holding the sucker just out of reach in front of me, he leaned over me, slowly settling his weight onto my back. I could feel his hard cock pressing against my ass, juicy from the dripping pussy juices. Forgetting the sucker, I arched my back and shifted my hips to feel his shaft against my asshole, his balls against my very slippery pussy.

He moved my hair off my neck, over to one side, for a better view and directed my attention back to the sucker. I stuck out my tongue and licked the sucker with just the tip. I could feel Daddy watching my intently, and feel his other hand under my belly, reaching lower and lower, finally stroking my clit very gently. My hips jerked. Daddy got up onto his knees, and taking my hips in his hands, pulled me back onto his cock. I moaned, gritted my teeth, exhaled. He began to fuck me deliberately, one hand guiding my hips to his rhythm, the other rubbing the sucker against my clit.

I slept soundly that night. When I woke, Daddy’s face was nestled into my neck, and the sucker was very small, abandoned on the nightstand in a melty pool of sugar and cum.


Posted in Fiction with tags , , , on July 18, 2009 by scarlettbottom

“Daddy, Daddy, can I have a sucker?”

“No, only good girls get suckers and you’ve been naughty this evening.”

“Please, please, Daddy? I’ll be really good.”

“Do you promise to do everything I say?”

“Yes, anything you say. Can I please have a sucker?”


We’re sitting in a dark corner of a club. Styrn gets the attention of the girl selling snacks and candies and buys me a cherry sucker. I’m buzzing in anticipation, waiting, resisting the temptation to put my finger in my mouth. Finally he comes back- he’s walking so slowly, hurry up. He unwraps the sucker and takes both of my slim wrists in one hand.

First kissing my lips. “Open.” He puts the sucker in my mouth.

“What do you say?”

Mumbling around the sucker which suddenly seems a little too big. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome. Now remember your promise.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Releasing my wrists, he takes my the leash from his pocket and hooks it to my the collar I wear. He threads the leash down my shirt, cold on my skin, and slips the end around his wrist. Repositioning my arms folded behind my back, we leave the club, first two fingers of his right hand under the waist of my skirt. My sucker is getting smaller in my mouth, and I’m walking carefully to keep my balance without the use of my arms.

At home, he pushes me to my knees and takes the sucker from me. “Hey! Gimme my sucker back!”

“Whose sucker is it?!”

Defiant. “It’s mine. Give it back!”

Suddenly bent over the bed, skirt up, panties down, I’m swiftly punished for my impudence. Sharp slaps are punctuated by high-pitched cries, subsiding into quieter, tearful gasps. “Whose sucker is it?”

Contrite. “It’s your sucker, Daddy.”

“That’s right. Do you want another sucker?”

Wordless nod. I sit up, feeling dazed, eyelids a little fluttery. Styrn puts a different sucker in my mouth. My mouth still tastes like cherry, which blends nicely with the familiar taste of Daddy’s cock. A good spanking makes me feel content and malleable; I open my eyes to look up at him. He strokes my hair, smiles faintly at me, and pushes down on my shoulders, so I’m sitting on my heels, as lowly as possible. I don’t mind. All the fight is gone, I’m just enjoying the ride. I play with Daddy’s cock, on my lips, licking, kissing, with no direction in particular.

Styrn removes himself from my mouth, inserts the sucker. He undresses me quickly, and picking me up, he drapes me over his bed, rubs my breasts, belly and thighs in one long, delicious stroke, making me arch my back reflexively. Straddling my shoulders, he takes my sucker away. I lick my lips and am slightly surprised by the presence of his cock, suddenly so close to my mouth. This position is a little difficult for me, a wrong angle for my throat, but it lets Styrn watch my expression while I play with him. It pleases him to see me enjoy myself so throughly. Sucking cock is not a chore for me, it’s a delight.


Posted in Fiction with tags , , , , on July 14, 2009 by scarlettbottom

I’m laying on the bed on my stomach kicking my feet lazily. I’m reading a book, and so engrossed in the story that I don’t hear Daddy come in.

Suddenly he jumps on the bed and starts tickling me. I squeal in surprise/delight and thrash around, knocking my book off the bed, giggling hysterically. Finally after what feels like ages, Daddy stops. Breathing heavily, I lay flat on my back, one leg hanging off the edge of the (now very rumpled) bed. I can’t really relax- he could start tickling me again at any second- but Daddy knows better than to betray my trust. He folds me up in his arms and kisses my mouth. One hand firmly holding the back of my head, he slowly kisses down my neck, paying close attention to when I tense up, afraid he’s going to tickle me there now. Little by little I relax, exhausted from the effort of trying vainly to fight him off a few seconds before, and finally, I’m limp in his arms.

He lays me down across the bed. When he lays down next to me, on his side, I reflexively curl up into him, head snuggled under his arm, one leg between his. Stroking my hair, he lifts my face up and kisses me gently, meanwhile unbuttoning my shirt with one hand. I’m still a little tense, so when his hand brushes my tummy on accident I tense up and pull away defensively, but my brain trusts Daddy, even if my body doesn’t always, so he can coax me back to him easily. I try hard to overcome the residual ticklishness and take a deep breath. Daddy takes advantage of that moment of control to pull a nipple out of my bra and pinch it lightly. Rolling my nipple between thumb and forefinger, he watches me squirm and struggle with my submission. He takes my nipple in his mouth (oh that’s better) and reaches up the back of my skirt to stroke my bottom and pussy lips. The excitement of the tickling and the adrenaline from the physical struggle primed me for foreplay; my pussy is getting wetter and wetter while I focus on Daddy’s mouth and thumb pressing the space between my pussy and asshole.

I’m beginning to rock my hips, finally able to loosen my control on my body, not ticklish anymore. I put my finger in my mouth. Daddy knows what this means. Fingers are almost never as satisfying as Daddy’s cock, so he moves to make the necessary adjustment. I love sucking Daddy’s cock; I can’t wait. I scramble over to the edge of the bed, hanging my head over, body laid out on the bed for Daddy to play with while I satisfy my oral fixation.

Acting Out

Posted in Fiction, Nonfiction with tags , , , on July 10, 2009 by scarlettbottom

I need a spanking.

There was a dry period for maybe six months, before I got to know Styrn well enough to “come out” as submissive (and believe me, it’s not obvious), in which I never got anything even remotely close to a spanking. I admit that I didn’t miss it too much, until Styrn and I played seriously for the first time- then I remembered that I wanted (needed?) that. It’s been a few weeks since my last spanking. I don’t know if I’ve been particularly “good” but I haven’t been punished for anything much.

The last few days I’ve been pretty down and emotional and starting to feel really desperate for some dominance and power play. I might be experiencing some minor sub-drop , which is just a down sort of feeling after a period of stimulation. It applies especially to sexual submissives because of the physical aspect of their duties, but I think everyone gets it, even after hanging out with friends for a long time or being really busy and then suddenly not. Sometimes it can be really intense, but I’ve never experienced that.

I generally try to be well-behaved, but I’ve been pestering Styrn a lot over the last couple of days. I almost never act out with the conscious agenda of getting a punishment, and I’m really not this time, either, but it might be unconscious.

He opens the door. I’m sitting on the floor in the hallway and crawl in, arranging myself over the edge of the bed, ass presented for whatever punishment might be deemed suitable.

I’m late. On purpose. Really late. He texts. I’ve been smoking my way through a pack of cigarettes outside his door for half an hour. He comes to fetch me, angry to be kept waiting for nothing- I don’t even smoke regularly. Bratty and talking back and generally being insulting I am dragged into the apartment and sitting in a straight-backed kitchen chair he delivers a very protracted spanking until I stop struggling and hissing at him.

I think he thinks I talk too much, but I’m nervously babbling now. Finally fed up, he tapes my mouth shut. Then he tapes my hands to the wall about chest level; it’s not very secure, but it makes his intentions clear. Pulling my feet away from the wall, so I’m leaning my weight forward on my hands, bent over at my hips, he pulls my skirt down to my feet and gives me several very hard, rhythmic slaps on the lower curve of my ass. Unable to protest or struggle much, he leaves me bare-assed, stuck in place against the wall.


Posted in Nonfiction with tags , , , on July 8, 2009 by scarlettbottom

I like to watch porn. Porn is highly underrated and should be higher quality and more readily available. Women should also be encouraged to watch more porn. Again, the idea that women are not visually stimulated is, frankly, ridiculous.

Sure, there are many things to hate about porn. For example, as much as I enjoy giving oral sex, I can’t stand to watch a porn star give someone head. It looks silly, and there’s far too much spitting. No one does that in real life because it’s not sexy. And I really dislike lesbian porn because it looks too fake. There have been some excellent lesbian sex scenes filmed for full length films (Bound, for instance, mmm), but lesbian porn looks like those girls are getting paid a lot of money. You can’t properly finger a lady with nails that long.

My favorite porn is highly explicit, preferably involving a woman and one or more men. It doesn’t matter much what the actors look like, except that they should all be relatively fit. I came across a lovely video of a couple’s… the only proper thing to say here would be “love making”. It was obviously an amateur movie, homemade, but the girl was cute, they clearly had strong feelings for each other, and they were using one of my favorite positions: doggy style.

But rather than watch movies, I prefer to watch myself and my partner in a mirror. It more about negative space. And watching yourself in a mirror can sort of make it actually less personal. I’m looking at the shape of the space between our bodies, the shape of my breast and belly and hip. This physical sense of space is something you could never get from a movie.


Posted in Nonfiction with tags , , , on July 6, 2009 by scarlettbottom

I’m feeling a little nostalgic today. I think about past lovers frequently. The first person to explore what I consider true bdsm with my was my first serious boyfriend. I was very inexperienced, sexually, but I’ve always been attracted to daddy play and he figured that out very quickly.┬áHe was also pretty good at talking dirty. I’ve never been very good at that, unfortunately.

My favorite material was something like “Does Baby like that? Daddy’s fingers in Baby’s pussy?” and patronizing babytalk, “Baby is such a spoiled little girl” “Baby likes to suck Daddy’s cock, look how wet it makes her.” He really knew how to use that kind of thing to take me right up to the edge. The best part of bdsm is the psychological aspect, and when you combine that with the paternal element, it comes across as very caring and loving, even as I’m being ripped apart by a particularly rough finger fucking.

And then there’s curling up in Daddy’s lap and having a really good, cathartic cry. Daddy has such strong arms and feels like a safe place. He used to be able to make me cry, like a psychological/emotional release instead of a physical orgasm. That was always very intense and made me feel so vulnerable. The first couple times I was embarrassed about it, but I came to understand that that was more than what he was looking for. That experience probably did more than anything else to cement our relationship.

This was not a “typical” bdsm relationship. Our play never left the bed (except for once when Baby got a spanking in the kitchen, over a stool), and it was limited to dirty talk and the occasional heat-of-the-moment spanking. I don’t think I even knew what it was.