Sunday, April 26, 2009

Crimson 8/?

Go back to Crimson 7/?
Start from the beginning


My heart started pounding, and it was weird because that isn't usually the part of my body that's pounding when I'm about to do what I was about to do. In fact, by that point, I was starting to get paranoid, thinking that I may have left my dick in the glove compartment with her panties, and I had to make myself stop thinking about that because Kara, this girl I'd known for a week, was now a piece of over-cooked spaghetti in my arms.

Sweet Jesus.

Our kiss could've easily been CPR.

And I had to start acting like a paramedic and not the fucking patient.

"Sit down on the bed," I told her so I could finish getting undressed, and she did, and my bed is much higher off the floor than hers is so her feet were swinging back and forth while she waited. "Do you always have pretty candles next to your bed?" she asked me, "Or are those just for me?" I didn't lie to her, "They're for you." "That's very sweet of you," she said as she lit them, and when I shut off the closet light, there was nothing left but Kara and candlelight. I sat down next to her and she asked me one more thing, "Did you go buy them or did you already have them?" I smiled, "I bought them at lunch today, and just to get the rest of the interview out of the way, they were three for twenty dollars and supposedly they smell like vanilla."

"The opposite of what you are," she said.

(And no one has spanked this girl before? Really?)


I put my hand on her thigh just below her dress, and the room got really quiet, "Open your legs." And when my hand slid between them, I wasn't surprised, "Kara, you're soaked." I let her lean against me before she dehydrated. "You took my panties away; I had nothing to absorb it." I laughed and tucked one of her legs under mine to keep hers spread as we both fell back on the bed. She moaned as I ran the back of my between her legs over and over and over again just to feel her get wetter and wetter and wetter, and then she started to beg, my name and the word, "Please," in a frantic little whisper that to this day makes me want to jerk off if I think about it for too long. Kara can beg better than a stray dog at a church cookout. Sometimes it's just unbecoming, or I just want her to think it is...

"Kara, stop it."


"Stop it."

And I turned my hand around and grabbed her soaking wet offense and explained to her that this isn't the way we do things, that she doesn't get wet without my permission, and that if she does, this is how she'll be spanked, that she can forget being across my lap if she can't even control herself. She stared at me and waited until I was finished before she whispered, "Jack, I can't. I can't follow that rule." I leaned down to kiss her because she's twice as beautiful when she's painfully honest, and when the kiss ended, I stayed right there with her, "Then pull your dress up."


"Don't make me ask you twice." I spanked the inside of her tight little thighs until they were on fire while she flinched and begged me to stop, and then I asked her an important question before I let her feel my burning up hand between her legs, "Are you wet again?"

She nodded, and all I could hear was, "Oh god, oh god, oh god," while I spanked every bit of it away. She was clinging onto me toward the end, and I could feel her crying, and a bit of panic coursed through me even though she had a safe word because this was new to her, and I whispered in her ear, "You okay?" and she whispered back, "Fuck, I just came."

to be continued...

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Crimson 7/?

Go back to Crimson 6/?
Start from the beginning


By the time Kara was finally in my apartment and in my bedroom one week after we'd met, she already knew where I fell on the fetish continuum. She'd listened attentively all week as I told her about the chat rooms and newsgroups and even parties I'd participated in to satisfy my urge for this sort of thing. She wasn't the least bit put off; she was surprisingly intrigued. "I can take you sometime if you'd like," I offered, and that's when I saw the Kara I met the first night, the girl who was unbelievably embarrassed about the fact that she didn't hate this whole idea. She brushed off my invitation. "So this really matters to you?" she asked at our third dinner. "I mean, if you're not satisfying this part of yourself in your primary relationship, you're probably going to go satisfy it somewhere else, right?" I had to think about that for a minute. I hadn't really been in a serious relationship with a woman where I ever had to make a choice like that. I sat my empty beer bottle down at the edge our table so our waitress would see it and then answered her, "I don't know for sure. All I can tell you is that when it's not part of my intimate relationship with someone, my mind tends to wander. And just to be completely honest upfront, I've paid for it before."

Her facial expression was amusing, "Are you serious?" (And again, she wasn't angry or concerned, just interested.)



"On a business trip in Las Vegas."

"What exactly were you paying for?"

I smiled at her, "I'm not going to tell you that, but if you're lucky, I'll teach you one day."

And now it's two nights later and here we are standing in my bedroom for the very first time, and she's adorably nervous. It's one thing to pay a girl to participate in your fantasy but another thing altogether to seduce participation out of a beautiful woman who's already working her way into your heart. I take my foot off the proverbial break and my car stalls.

Son of a bitch.

Kara seems to sense my nervousness now. "Do you want to pay me first?" she asks as she starts to unbutton my shirt. "I blew all my money at dinner," I confess. She slips her hand in one of my pockets, "Well, there's definitely something in there." She makes me laugh and relax and want her even more. "I hate that this apartment is such a crappy bachelor's pad. You deserve to get your first spanking in a much more dignified setting." "I can promise you that there's not one inch of my body that cares about that," she reassures me as she starts unbuckling my belt, and I stop her before she can toss it on the floor. "My belt stays on the bed." And then I kiss her, and that's all the adrenaline the situation needs.

to be continued...

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Crimson 6/?

Go back to Crimson 5
Start from the beginning

Author's note: I didn't know the name of the girl in this story until the last post, and then all of a sudden, it came out of Jack's mouth. So, there you go. I like to give myself some freedom to write by the seat of my pants sometimes. Short, frequent posts are a challenge. Now we switch POVs.


Kara's hair is spread out all over the bed, and she's been holding her breath since I plugged her. I waited until the last minute to tell her that it was a new plug, much bigger than what she's used to, and now I'm holding it inside her with one hand and trying to undress with the other.

Kara is my girlfriend. She's not my wife; she's not interested in being my wife; she doesn't want kids; she wants this. Boy, do I have a rough life.

Woe is me.

And I started all of this. I met her through a personal ad. She ran it; I answered it. She didn't say one word about her dark desires in that ad because she didn't know she had them. I was the one who uncorked this bottle and let the genie out. You're supposed to get three wishes when that happens, right? Well, it's been four years, and I haven't even pondered the other two because I'm afraid they'll kill me. All I wanted to know as our first date turned into a long talk at her place was if she'd ever considered being over someone's knee...

And she got really quiet.

And I got really uncomfortable. Sort of. And I started to apologize because I'd done something to derail the great time we were having. And she said, "No," because she really hadn't ever thought about it, but now that she was...

And we both looked at the clock on her cable box and it was almost three in the morning, so I said I should probably go, and she said I didn't have to if I didn't want to, and I wasn't sure if that was a test or an offer, but then she started looking at the dark doorway of her bedroom and then back at me, and well...

I fucked her.

I didn't say another word about the non-vanilla suggestion I'd made and neither did she, but I left her apartment the next morning and took her out that night and then two times that week, and the next Friday night, I took her out to dinner someplace really nice. It was the heat of the summer, and she was wearing a next-to-nothing little black dress when I picked her up, and we had a bit of a drive to get to the restaurant. We were maybe at the second stoplight of the journey when I couldn't stand it anymore. I hadn't fucked her since the first night I met her, but I felt completely comfortable with her, like I'd known her forever. Maybe that's why, when I looked over at her, I didn't hesitate to ask her to pull up her dress so I could see her bottom, and I only had to ask three more times before she did it. And that made it all the better because she was embarrassed to show me, and when she realized that I meant her panties needed to come off, that I wanted her bare ass sitting on the seat of my fairly new car, she got very embarrassed.

"People can see me, Jack. All these people in their SUVs can see me every time we stop at a light."

"Good for them."

I made her leave her panties in the car. To this day, she says she has no idea what that restaurant even looked like. We went pack to my apartment after dinner. She'd never seen my apartment before, much less my bedroom, neither of which were anything to write home about, but the mood was broken for a few minutes as I gave her a tour and and made lame excuses about my lame apartment. You never realize how little you care about your own surroundings until you invite a woman over. I doubt she cares that there might have been up to eighty dollars in small change in my sofa alone!

And then we walked down the ridiculously narrow hallway to my bedroom. "Uh, I left my purse on your kitchen counter," she said. "That's okay. It'll be perfectly safe there," I reassured her. She seemed really nervous, "And my shoes are out there somewhere, too." "Okay. No problem." And then we stood there facing each other like we'd just met or something.


I tried to melt the ice rather than break it, "Your panties are in my glove compartment. Just F.Y.I." She smiled, so I decided to take my foot off the brake just a little, "Dinner was good?"

"Yeah," she said, another smile.

"Want to go back there again sometime?"

"As long as we take the same route." (Kara's one of the few women I know who can be legitimately shy and seductive at the time.)

After that moment, I decided to stop ignoring the 'yield' signs in my head.

Go on to Crimson 7

Saturday, April 4, 2009

Crimson 5/?

Go back to Crimson 4
Start from the beginning

He's so gracious all the way home; he becomes such a gentleman as my surrender gets closer. He smiles more; he responds to inane conversation; he doesn't run red lights. He puts his hand on my leg again, but only just above my knee. He squeezes and grins at me; I close my eyes and relax all the way home.

When we pull into the garage, I wait for him to open my car door. He takes my hand, unlocks the door to the kitchen and moves aside so I can walk inside. You'd think we were on a first date except that we don't turn any lights on; we just follow a routine. He stops at the fridge and pulls out two bottles of water; I take his keys and put them on the counter. He hands me one of the bottles so he can take my hand and lead me upstairs. I walk into our bedroom lit only by the flood lights outside the window and sit the bottle on the nightstand by the bed, and then I just wait for him, watching...

He unbuttons his shirt a little, rolls up his sleeves and says, "Come here." I kick my shoes off and walk over to him. He puts one arm around me and the other between my legs, fingering me so hard I end up on my toes. "Do you want your bottom plugged?" he asks me, steaming the words behind my ear.


He turns me around and urges me up onto our bed. "Good girl," he says when I'm on my hands and knees, when my face is pressed against our bedspread. "Get your dress out of my way," he insists, his hand running up the inside of my thigh and then his voice is lower, threatening. He moans and I know he's smiling when I collect the fabric down around my shoulders. He starts inspecting me,"Christ, Kara, you're so wet, I could put a bucket between your legs and water the lawn tomorrow."

"Stop it, Jack."

"Oh, don't worry. That's the first thing I'm going to stop."


Go back to Crimson 3
Start from the beginning

"I love the way you smell," he says when his mouth is a centimeter away from Mecca, "Right after I give you a bath and you primp like crazy, it's almost summer, and the second I pull your panties down, I can smell how badly you want to come."

I put the seat back and start counting stars in the sky.

He got out of the car five minutes ago and came around to my side so he could do this right. His hair is soft between my legs. He spent a lot of time getting ready, too, and that's a pity because I'm going to rip his hard work right out of his head. He licks me and I swear the stars are shaped like a cock now. He knows how to do this; he knows how to make me come to him. He knows how much teasing and wet and warm and slippery I can take before I'm gone, gone,
ain't gonna be quiet about it either gone. He knows how many orgasms are too many so he stops at three and a half, but he won't give me my panties back.

He takes me to a steakhouse for dinner, a really
slow one with high booths so he can molest me while we wait twenty minutes between courses.

I'm going to fuck the pepper grinder.

Go on to Crimson 5

Friday, April 3, 2009

Crimson 3/?

Go back to Crimson 2
Start from the beginning

So it's one of those nights in early May when it's not that hot, but the humidity is high enough to make it sort of uncomfortable. We're going out to eat because Jack wants to and because we always do what Jack wants to do. Tonight that means driving down narrow, dark country roads way too fast with the windows down which is totally destroying my hair. The wind is so loud, and I have to admit that it does feel good even though I'll look like a tornado victim when we get to wherever we're going. Soon he has to slow down because of where we are, and my hair starts to cling to my neck again. "Put it up," he says, fishing in the console for a clip or something. "You have twelve million clips in here. You look hot when you put your hair up." "You've left me no choice," I tell him, "It's either that or Jabba the Hut." He laughs and hands me the barrette he found, and as soon as I secure the rat's nest on my head, his hand falls to my thigh, slipping immediately under my black dress. "Off," he says as his fingertips brush over my panties. "I thought you were starving," I remind him. "I am but take them off anyway," he insists.

He has his eyes on the road and his hand on my leg and as soon as he feels the material, he makes sure they get down past my knees, and then his hand starts to move again. We're the only ones at a stop sign in the middle of nowhere; I hear an ambulance siren from far away and feel his fingers getting closer. "You're wet," he says, "Aren't you?" (God, that's a dumb question.) And here comes an even dumber answer, "Yes." I haven't even finished the word and his fingers are between my legs. "Keep your legs open," he says. "Pull the car over, Jack, please." He doesn't even pretend to argue with me; he just pulls into the first parking lot he sees which happens to be a Baptist church. Luckily, we're the only people here. (Praise Jesus.)

He turns his attention back to me as he turns off the car. The windows go up, the moon roof opens, very sexy jazz music starts to trickle out of the radio, but he's just looking at me. And touching me. I have to close my eyes when his fingers disappear inside me; his thumb starts teasing my clit. "Don't do this if you don't want me to come," I warn him. "This isn't a cease fire in the Middle East you're working on here; this is gonna happen."

"Pull your dress up."

(God Bless America; I'll do anything for world peace.)

"Do you know that every time I say something to you when my fingers are inside you, I can feel you gush?" he asks me.


I kick my right shoe off and try to sneak my foot up onto the dashboard for the leverage I want for this orgasm; he thinks this is hilarious and takes my other leg into his possession, leans forward and starts kissing his way down my thigh. I push his head back, "Jesus, don't eat me in a church parking lot. We're so going to hell." He grabs my hand and pins it underneath me...

Forgive me Father for I'm about to sin--

oh god...

Go on to Crimson 4

Tuesday, March 31, 2009


Go back to Crimson-1

He gives me that look, the look I've been waiting for all day. "So what exactly am I supposed to do with you if you only follow half the rules?" he wants to know. I try not to smile, "I don't know. Spank me?" His eyebrow goes all the way up, "See, that's the problem we have here. The reward and the punishment are the same thing. I'm not sure that's really going to work." "Oh, I think it's working perfectly," I tell him and then I bust out laughing because he's about to start laughing. And then his thigh drops between mine, and his hand is between my legs, and we don't need to laugh anymore. He's heavy on top of me and whispering in my ear, "You're soaking wet, aren't you?"


"Are you supposed to be wet before I spank you?"


"What happens if you break that rule?"

"You forgive me?"

He laughs in my ear, "Strike one. Try again."

"Please. I want you," I try.

"Strike two."

"I don't get to come."

"Good girl."

He gets up and pulls me to the bathroom where he turns on the shower and washes me from head to toe, bringing me so close to orgasm so many times that I want to club him over the head, and then he watches me like a hawk while he finishes up so I won't finish the job he abandoned. He dries me off, and then pulls me against him and offers me a choice, "I need to fuck something. Your face or your bottom?"

"Whatever you want," I say and I mean it because he's sweet when he asks; he's never a prick.

"Your face," he says, "Because if I fuck your pretty little ass, you'll come."

I smile and get down on my knees because he's right.

Go on to Crimson 3