A Malflic Holiday Poem

It was dimly lit in the dungeon and Malflic was moving
He scared all bunnies, the bottoms and the one girl’s poor switchy type roommate.
He flogged them, and spanked them and he beat them. It filled him with glee
As he took one itinerant brat and put her right over his knee
He swatted and spanked her poor bottom so very bright red
Then rumor and legend and hear say said that he said
“a hair brush, a flogger, a strap and a knife,
Some candles, a paddle, a few sluts and I’m all set for life.
Those Virgins, and good girls I’ll show them all the damn door
I like women who are wicked and wanton, my best friends are whores.
I’m lustful and evil, a bit twisted and dark
fire play is delicious it adds just the right spark
All the moaning and screaming the things I done to your wife,
I’ve fucked mothers and daughters and sisters far more times than thrice.
When my black boots come stomping and hands mark you ass
While others wait patiently in line like good little bad girls from the first to the last
You’re bottom is burning from your first turn of the night
Now stand in the corner with you cute spanked red bottom on display in plain site”
It may all be legend or it may happen here
what a wonderful way to treat all naughty girls this time of year.
No matter if it is a religious or secular holiday for you I hope you all have a wonderfully wicked good time.
– Mal
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Thank you for Flying Sadist Airlines – An Epic Poem


Thank you for Flying Sadist Airlines

After a bit of reflection and mainly becuase I’m halfway through an unabridged version of Canterbury Tales for my current pleasure reading I’ve decided to try to write a post in a classic epic poem style meets Dr Seuss.  Which is really nothing more than a way to potentially justify my poorly constructed and overly complicated sentences and bizarre rhyming scheme.  Thank you for being masochists and indulging me by reading even just a little.

Part 1 Into The Darkness

All of this is true and none of it is true.  Perhaps the events had happened a millennia ago and perhaps they happened in the residence next to where you are right now in the moments that only recently passed.  This is the tale of the times, of today, and of tomorrow. They are the words also of legends of old, and of moments as modern as the moment you are in and as old as the universe.  It is all completely true and an utter lie.
The wind whipped through the cool autumn air. That much I can assure did really occur.  And as the temperature fell and the moon glowed soft and golden in the sky. The night was alive with far too many voices.  Still despite it all somehow the possibility of magic lingered on the breeze and with it evil and wickedness simply waiting their turn.  In the distance as our fair damsel made her way hastily across the black hard darkness that blanked the earth.  She was in tow, and captured, and without even the slightest resolved to escape the fate that awaited her.  Willingly unwilling and all too caught up in the surroundings to think better of things but as the story goes sometimes the things we crave are not the things we should admit to wanting most.
But admit is exactly what she had done, time and again; with reckless abandon. Truer words have never been spoken and great lies lied within them.  But rather than run like so many before and what would have been of soundest intellect and purest mind to do she followed dutifully chattering harmlessly with the one who escorted her from the deep darkness into the unyielding of the light.
There are of course times when things like this occur. Where what is obvious seems less so and what is hidden seems so painfully obvious.  Mythic tales of hardship and triumphs, of fool hardiness and destruction; which was ahead?  Knowing what was behind remained yet unresolved.    So the tormentor began his game with subtle suggestions and playful banter.  She had no idea what laid before her.  What wickedness awaited but only that there would be pain and a slight hint of ecstasy, torment and relief, surrender and in it escape that words never quite seemed to do justice, simple things first, necessities and treats, provisions for the journey that somewhere in the future she could enjoy. Things that he would undoubtedly share with another, so is the plight of a wanton woman when the Demon has another on his mind. Her mind, body and twisted little soul by her own design very much shared with so many.
So the journey continued as our damsel was given the option to choose some devices of her own torture, as adornments for the future, and reminders of the sweet and delicious torment that was yet about to come but would long after concluding be dwelled upon as marks, on the body, mind, and soul.
Remembering things long forgotten as he taunted her with what was yet to be endured, reminding her not so gently that she had earned ever uncomfortable moment that lay in her future and that if nothing else he was going to leave his mark on her in a way that even previous evils had not.   All true as anything and all of which were just words to her as her mind weighed the possibilities of what he had meant.   His intentions were quite specific but the details of which were with held leaving her to wildly contemplate her own fate.
Back out of the light and into the darkness she was sent, trailing behind him. His lust and wickedness was about to be spent.  Dodging shadows and light, as the start of her night was beckoning and within the hour the moment of her duress would soon be at hand.

Part 2 The Road into Hell

His boots on the stairs, the door closed and the world left behind.  They ask was she ready because it was her time?   The hour was calling and yes her time was here. She nodded with a lot of excitement mixed with just a small batch of fear.
So over she went like a good woman should and he laid into her soundly with a stern piece of wood.  It burned and bit with every impact the beginning was ending, really just two from the last. Then one of the wicked who  was watching the sights.  He called out an idea with sadistic delight. “Why she’s not counting and you know that’s not good. You should start over and give a few extra just because you know that you could.”
And with this the one laughed with paddle in hand. He said “let’s start all over, count out loud do you understand?”  She gritted her teeth and dared him a smile.   As so they began once again in the very same style.   The room filled with smacking, and swooshing, with sensations and sighs.  A few muffled mumbles for what he did to her hide.
And once they got there after beginning again, went from zero, to heaven, to hell in those ten.  Which totaled out 18 because they because of the new start . He hated falling just short of 20 with all of his heart.   So two more “extra” were harshly applied, and she gritted her teeth and lost herself deep inside.  A few of those swats had left her well marked with an ass so it red it probably glowed  in the dark. One would think she was bitter. But she was not bitter but hot. She loved every moment even the two extra, extra, extra, hard swats.  And one would expect this was the end of our tale but it is just the beginning of her road into hell.
So off with the jeans, on to her panties, and then and on the bare.  He whipped her with leather it seemed only fair.  She squealed and she loved it with each solid stroke.  So he hit some more while the men laughed, and they joked.   Then onto the hand because it only seemed right, and if all went as planned it was the start of her night.

Part 3 Descent and  Elevation

With night in the fore ground and not in the past, they gagged her, and pushed her and once again started to laugh.   Thrown down on the bed so nice and so soft they brought out the blind fold and she nearly scoffed.  The games men play are wicked at night, but she was all theirs and tucked well out of sight. She drooled into her gag with small bit of shame.  She laughed at her plight and recounted how much she loved their sick game.  Her bottom was glowing, still slightly ablaze as the ropes then appeared to bind to her frame.  Hands tied to knees, and flat on her back they spanked her bottom, her pussy and legs but just on the back. And then he said something while she was catching her breath but on went the blind fold there would be no time to rest.
Her mind raced a little, faster, and more.  She wondered what wickedness they had in store. Whips and leather, more wood and sins of the flesh.  They would push the limits they wanted to test.  Then there was just silence.  Oh what could that mean?  Then she heard a loud buzzing and wanted to scream. Not tender, not gentle, no pleasure, just pain. Not soft and not slow, they held her legs wide all as part of their game.
They took her to heaven through the bottom of hell and wouldn’t relent until they had emptied her well.   She squealed, and she shook and they held her down.  Making her shake from the tips of her toes to the top of her crown.  And when that wave had passed there would be no respite.  They simply continued the hellish and orgasmic delight. While pinching and pushing, while keeping her there, until she crested again and again and was fully aware.
She shook and she shattered and continued to shake. She wondered and thought about what else they would take.  And when she was wasted, a soaked drooling mess. They’re loosened the ropes and before she could rest.  They uncovered her eyes, and mouth just in time. As her gaze met his met the Demon’s he offered “Thank you for flying Sadist Airlines”

Part 4 –

So women seem wicked and often men  also do  .  But even in evil there is often good too.  They hugged her and kissed and they brought her back down but not before she’d come once more like a flood destroying cities and towns. And the dark one he drifted off into the night while two stayed behind to enjoy other delights.
And this brings to the end of our little tale, how you can find heaven from dark depths of hell.  If you ever should wonder what evil is like, it the thing that laughs with you in the still of the night.  It’s the words that still linger long after their said, and the moments so fleeting that dance in your head.
When pleasure comes calling there always is pain, whether wicked and wanton or modest with shame.   And the words have been spoken and the deeds have been done. Life is too short to not have some fun.
So love all your lovers so pure and so true.  And if you’re like us find something wicked to do.  For nothing is new, only new once more.  And pain can be pleasure for ladies and whores.   So maybe this happened and maybe it’s true. And maybe it’s lie and a lesson for you. Would you dance with a Demon to find your delight, and how often you’ve screamed in the dead of the night?  So I’ll say it once more, just one last time.  Thanks you for flying Sadist Airlines.
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Poly Relationships Survey, Shocking Answers, and a Visual Illustration

A little while back (late December 2012) a supposedly academic survey on poly relationships was making the rounds.   Since I identify as such I opted to take it more so curious to the nature of the questions than any answers I anticipated giving.    As is usually the case that when I thought I knew everything I was hit by a proverbial bus.  Now normally being built like a brick shit house and not that bright after being run over I just stand up, dust myself off and shake my head a few times and go back about my life no worse for the wear.   This time though a few things stuck with me not the least of which was the repetitive nature asking about physical abuse due to jealousy in the relationship but bear with me  I’ll come back to that later.
As I went through I listed everyone I considered myself to be Poly with.   I politely answered the questions about who knows who and who knows about who.  I listed the Chesty Blonde first and as my primary relationship.   There was no surprise there but after that I kind of went off the tracks because I then listed Victoria.  Why? Because I was going in order of how long I’ve had a relationship with a person and well she is the 2nd longest consistent relationship I have so she became number two based on tenure alone.  Never mind that by classic terms she doesn’t qualify but more on that later.  Then I debated adding the Limey but determined she was not really but kind of sort of could be construed as a Poly relationship that involved me.   So that one got tabled.   Then I considered my relationship with the My Favorite Sexy Little Brunette (FSLB).  Yes we’re both in different places now but we’re still friends and share what’s going on in each other’s lives.  At this point I failed to stay in chronological order because she introduced me to the Green Eyed She Devil (GESD) and more or less laid the ground work for our relationship.   It was in a way match making.  I knew FSLB was looking for a primary relationship and she knew and respected the fact that I had a long established one.   As she moved toward that goal and ultimately moved to another city where we wouldn’t be regular companions she encouraged me to spend more time with my GESD in her place.   And in its own way the survey questions hit on all these elements but not in terms or ways I’d have thought of.
Clear as mud so far right?   Trust me it gets better because I had to add Alice to the mix.  Who now clocked in at number 5 only because I started in chronological order and then got distracted by the flow of my relationships.    Then I began to question would she list me?   We’re good friends, we’d both play at the drop of the hat.  LR is her primary but well I got to the point of “stop over thinking it asshole” of course you should list her because she is in a dead heat in your life with Victoria most of the time as far as time spent communicating and ahead of her more often than I realized.   Which then caused me to reconsider the Limey who was now listed at number 6 so that left no room for the Pixie who is more play partner than a poly relationship and should I list play partners that I am close to but don’t have a sexual relationship with but do have some romantic style of component?  If they had to answer my questions when building the survey it would have look like the United States Tax Code.
Malflics relationships ldemonstrated by using shoes
If that ‘s not bad enough the questions turned to I hope you like math problems…
Does Number one know about number 2 ?  Does number 3 know about 1 & 2.  If the sadist left the munch with number 9 at 7:30 pm  to meet number 1 and number 5 at a rope con and was traveling due east at 114 miles per hour across 25 state lines what time would number 3 decide to spank number 8 before fucking number 4 with a giant strap on.   Just for the record the answer is purple! I hate when they don’t tell you the answer.
On a more serious note here’s a few things I hadn’t thought of before
I love the Blonde but never really considered in any depth the difference between her and MFSLB.   I think upon looking back MFSLB knew that she filled an important gap in my life, one that frankly until taking the survey I didn’t realize I had.  And the fact she cared and was open enough to encourage my relationship with the GESD speaks volumes.  In essence she literally handpicked her own replacement in my life.   It’s both fucked up and beautiful in its own way.  My relationship with Victoria is both the most and least complicated at the same time.  The Blonde and V have known each other forever, there seems to be no issues or jealousy between them, we’ve traveled together countless times, she visits once a year or so.  My kids call her as often as their own grandparents and I see her other cities fairly often.  The nature of my relationship with V is first a literary one followed by kink based elements.  Where it is complicated is while I know a lot of her family another partner of hers has serious issues with me.  Actually they’ve refused to meet me for years.  Their loss I’m a lot of damn fun in person.  Maybe it’s a case of if I don’t meet him he doesn’t really exist but more likely he doesn’t want to meet me because I’ve been critical of his actions and he’s smart enough to know I’ll tell him exactly what I think.  This went on for an hour as I reflected on my different relationships. My jacked up convoluted relationships aside there is one thing that kept eating at me. Really it was one repetitive question that did really bother me.
Rarely am I an idealist.  Even more rarely am I one to assume the best about people’s nature.  Look up cynical jaded asshole and odds are my latest picture will be next to the description.    Maybe I’m doing the Poly thing all wrong?  You know I could be?  I’ve never read the manual.  And yes by some definitions people would describe a few of my relationships as unacceptable and not really poly but they aren’t casual play swing relationships either.
Some (ok most) do have a BD or DS element to them.  These actions are done with consent (and often encouragement and occasionally small assemblies of cheer leaders and spectators on a good night) but the questions troubled me have I hit X because of jealousy?  Well no.  Sure I have participated in impact play with many of my partners so yes I’ve hit them but it’s consensual and she fucking loves it!  As a matter of fact she created the scene.  All kidding aside abuse is an issue in relationships of all kinds, even BDSM ones.   Jealousy is a fact of life poly or not.  And I’m not dim witted enough to believe that it doesn’t happen but I really was troubled by the repetitive nature of that specific question and wanted to scream.   YOU MEAN HAVE I HIT X OUTSIDE OF A BDSM DYNAMIC RIGHT?
I had a problem separating my BDSM dynamic from their questions about physical abuse and jealousy.  Do I hit X because she wants to see Y?  No!  Have I confronted X about wanting to have a relationship with L, M, N, or P and had it lead to a physical confrontation?  No but if she sees another vowel I’ll flip the fuck out. (ok not funny but you get the point)
I’m not saying at times I don’t get jealous, or envious.  I do and expect those in relationships with me do as well from time to time but ultimately I want them to be happy people in relationships they enjoy.  That matters more.  After all it’s not about just fucking random strangers…not that there’s anything wrong with that.
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Kink Us Interrupt Us

When you have house guests you can hide all the toys.  Fuck like normal people for a few days (or more if need be) .  You can censor yourself, your topics, your conversations.  You can fight back the urge to run upstairs to read a post to your partner or to show off a favorite blogger’s new site.
Maybe you’ve learned your lesson and know that nowhere is safe so you stay away from friend’s blogs, and “that” facebook profile.  Kink and swinger sites are out of the question even in your own office.
Despite those best efforts you might forget and playfully but firmly swat her on the ass in front of her father (she was bending over and wiggled it for god’s sake I’m not a saint).  You can make the trip some of your gay friends are on sound like a boys weekend when you forget and start talking about a picture they sent of a party (They were surrounded by women at the time).  And when you slip and start talking about a lesbian couple’s wedding Rob flows off your tongue instead of Robin like that’s what you always call her.
And when the snow comes in sure the kids might say things like “look dad hell just froze over but at least there’s no damn school” or “did you get that Job in London, Dallas, or San Fran yet?” since none of us really dig being here and those are the cites on the kids short list to move to.  Or they might go on a profanity laden rant about closed minded thumpers across the street.   Oh and you can hide your new tattoo, and your 19 year old kiddo will hide hers as well.
Sure there were little slip ups like the fact I left a bottle of rope oil on my desk with a Maui Kink logo.  It became a family version of don’t ask don’t tell.  If asked I’d have said it “it’s for my rope” like it is a perfectly normal thing because in my world it is.    The fact that when the weather changed our travel plans so I audibled and  planned a night out with my wife to an erotic book reading and then cancelled our new plans because our guest decided to stay longer (I’m still a little bitter about giving up the impromptu date night).
And you can do it all for the sake of trying to keep peace in the family.  Not to hide how you live so much as to not shove your contrasting value systems in their face and get into another debate over it (if they really knew they’d die on the spot). Say it with me “Atheist” and also organic food does not make me a socialist hippie.   It makes me a Capitalist (look at the wing tips buddy) against being poisoned by my food.   I willingly put enough other poisons into my body I don’t need my fruits and veggies to help me along that slippery slope.
Then something funny happens – I slip, not a little, and not in any way that could be misconstrued.  Five little words uttered as I was pouring my first cup of coffee and before I had my guard up.   “So what fuck that bitch.”  Words uttered with all the disdain and contempt said bitch / ex step monster in law does in fact deserve. Look up Gold Digger and it should have her picture because after he raised her kids like his own for 20 years and she went through all his money (damn near seven figures) she split for a plastic surgeon whose pockets were still deep.
Across from me was a man who doesn’t swear, doesn’t drink, and holds very conservative traditional values and is absolutely convinced everyone who has ever hear a Marilyn Manson song is a heroin addict (so I make sure Manson is queued up when he borrows my car).  He thinks for a minute and then says “yeah I’ve thought that about her thousands of times but have never said it.”
I laugh and state “sometimes things just need to be said the way they are.”   Later that day the kids would turn into only slightly modified versions of themselves, the blonde would tell stories about her wild friends and I’d get an unheard of 10 hours of sleep.   Late the next afternoon I’d have room at the proverbial inn for the first time in 10 days.  It was just us and I had become over run with the vanilla behavior, demure conversations, and everything else.
So I open up the freezer to find a half gallon of vanilla bean ice cream staring me in the face.  It was like the gods of Kink were mocking me…Vanilla?  Really?   So I did what all good deviants do I covered it with something dark and yummy, added in a few other things to make it a little extra special.
When that was over I dug out the toys, books, movies, and music then went back to my lovely twisted version of “normal”.
To my fellow Wicked Wednesday participants due to work related travel obligations it will be Saturday before I get to read your posts and return your comments.   Or maybe late Friday night if I end up with a bit of a captive audience upon my return home.
– Mal
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Wicked Wednesday

Au Revior, Auf Wiedersehen, Good Bye

As she snuggled into him before the first light of day she felt the warmth of his body against hers. These were the moments that would get her through what was bound to be a completely hectic day. His first movements were to draw himself closer to her as well.  He reached around her like so many times before but rather than simply draping his arm around her waist his hand went between her legs and began to ever so lightly stroke her. She purred at the tease and sensations but knew there would be no time for anything more. She moved into his touch, just a little, ever so slightly really, and opened her legs inviting him to continue his caresses. What would a few stolen moment hurt really?  As he woke up more and more in the next few minutes it went from a light teasing touch to an insistent and determined one. He was turning her on and he knew it and she could feel his desire rising as well.
Perhaps a morning quickie wouldn’t be a bad way to start the day but as she began to turn towards him his other hand stopped her and his touch on her pussy went from playful to demanding. His fingers danced across her growing wetness with purpose and intention and a few minutes later she could feel an orgasm starting to build. She pressed into his hand more, wanting him inside her but he gave no indication of any such interest as he toyed with her clit, his hand speed and the amount of pressure he was applying varied maddeningly. Her body flushed, tensed just slightly as her mind swam in the sensations, and then a release washed over her. It was not the most intense orgasm she’d ever had but it was nice, and gentle, and wonderful way to start the day before even getting out of bed. As he purred into her ear unintelligible sounds of delight the alarm began to ring. She kissed him and headed to the shower. The normal weekday routine was about to continue on schedule as always. She called au revior as she headed to the shower.
15 minutes later she stepped out of the steaming hot water and he got in. She dried off and began the ritual that was her hair and makeup. Before she had even begun her makeup but after she had finished drying and styling her hair he was out of the shower and playfully swatted her towel covered bottom.   She leaned into the mirror as he meandered into the large walk in closet.
When he emerged as is usually the case he walked up behind her placing his hand firmly on her bottom and she paused, for a moment from her preparation ritual and waited for him to lean down and kiss her before he headed out for the day.
She stood up a bit and after little more than an innocent peck on the cheek she leaned back into the mirror and continued about her usual routine. She still felt his hand on her bottom and waited for the typical playful see you later swat. As he stood there his hand still touching her she wiggled, ever so slightly and the a little more to spur him on so the delay would be over. Instead his hand made its way up her back tugged the towel wrapped around her which fell quickly and unceremoniously to the floor. She huffed a little but instantly his hand had found her backside, swatted it playfully and but instead of moving on he went further south and between her legs as he used his other to somewhat forcefully suggest she bend back over the sink a little more.
Sexy Woman in a shirt“Would you stop it. I don’t have time for this right now.” His hand explored between her lips “it feels like part of you thinks you do. Besides I never said you had to stop what you were doing” He slowly slid a thick finger into her already wet pussy.  She adjusted herself slightly and he began to caress and fuck her slowly with his hand and somehow despite her best efforts her make up and getting ready seemed like it could wait a little while longer and she readjusted her feet, bent over the counter just a little more offering her self to him as she started to drink in the sensations.  His hand moved rhythmically into and out of her. Filling her, pausing and then ever so slowly sliding back out. Eventually as she melted into the sensation completely when she found 3 full long fingers inside of her, filling her in a way she loved, and wanted.
She began to push back into his motions to increase the speed and force of his touch. A sharp crack filled the room “that’s for not just taking what I was giving you.” Then another that was much harder than the previous swat that left her bottom red and stinging “and that’s just because you like it you dirty girl” She thought of saying something to counter his last statement but it would have been a lie, she was a dirty girl, she was his very, very dirty girl.  A few moments later his other arm reached around her waist, danced across her stomach, lingered playfully on the small patch of hair just above her pussy and then found its way to her clit where with a well placed finger, a subtle motion and a fair amount of unrelenting pressure he brought her to the edge, paused and then sent her reeling over it all the while never missing a beat.
It was like nothing changed as she came he was still there systematically doing exactly what had brought her to this point. As the final waves washed over her he just as intentionally removed his touch. Picked up the towel, wrapped it back around her. Smiled “I love seeing my hand print glowing on that cute ass of yours.” She chided back “well at least one of us does” she blushed knowing that while she liked to play that it wasn’t her thing it very much was; even if only rarely would she admit to liking having her bottom smacked out loud. He laughed as if he read her mind, grinned like the devil. “Well if you say so. Auf Wiedersehen” and he turned and was gone to the other room. She collected her thoughts, looked at the clock and tried to regain the time that was lost. She could be an efficient girl when it came to getting ready if she needed to be.
A short time later she came bounding down the stairs, found her winter coat, threw her shoes to the floor and worked her feet into them, as she made her was through the house and towards the garage.  Right as she was primping one last time in the hallway mirror before heading out to her car by making sure her scarf and hair was just so something caught her eye.  He was sitting at the breakfast table sipping his tea. She paused, and then said “I’d thought you’d left without calling up to say so”
She made her way toward him for a final kiss before leaving. He took her by the waist and in one deft move lifted her flipped her skirt up and placed her bottom on the edge of the table. His pushed her panties aside and was between her legs in the same instant. The tender one slow finger had given way to all three fingers inside of her and the slow maddening touches of earlier were now fast and hard thrusts that took her by surprise. From gentle to rough in an instant, it may not have been the oldest trick in the book but was one she certainly knew and loved. He used his hand to fuck her like he meant it, in a way that told her she was his and he would have her when and where he wanted. He feet dangled off the edge her entire body moved with each thrust of his hand and her mind raced with fantasies “Fuck me” she asked. He just looked at her, he was really going to make her say it again “ Fuck me, I want to feel your cock in me”. He just smiled “too bad” and kept on fingering her. Resigning herself to her fate which wasn’t really all that bad she laid back on the table and simply drank in the sensations. closing her eyes free to imagine whatever it was the wanted to.
She imagined a buzzing sound, no it wasn’t her imagination it was in the room and before she could place that low deep rumble she felt it pressed again her clit. “that’s not fair” she panted at him. Not a single sound was uttered in return to her complaint. Moments later she came for the third time that morning but this one was hard and intense. As she felt it subside she waited for him to stop. His hand slid out from inside her but the vibe was left on her clit. “Stop it you prick” She said playfully. “Still not an answer. “Did you hear me?” her voice growing annoyed knowing damn well he did. “Yes and don’t you dare move” she froze, maybe she had pushed things too far. His touch and that of the vibe left her. She laid there on the table feet still dangling, shoes barely on with her eyes closed just waiting. She heard his footsteps cross the room, a drawer open, its contents moved, and then steps back in her direction. “Remember don’t move” the next thing she hear was the sound of a rescue hook cutting away her panties. The familiar feel of the Hitachi returned. Moments later she came again, but he didn’t stop until her had left her an exhausted puddle lying there panting. He finally took the toy and his touch away. She opened her eyes to find him standing there smiling at her. It looked enough like a content innocent smile. He leaned down and kissed her “Thank you” she whispered in his ear. “you’re welcome. Now you were such a brat earlier you know you’re going to get it tonight when you get home” his voice even and measured “and since we had to ruin one pair of panties already you aren’t allowed to wear any today” she just looked at him and nodded with a wicked grin of her own. He kissed her gently and lovingly and he turned and left.
In a matter of minutes and with a few simple words she had gone from spent to looking forward to and dreading whatever was planned for later at the same time. She’s be a mess and lost in those fantasies all day…which fit her now wrinkled and askew look perfectly. As he broke the threshold to leave he called back into to her “Good Bye”

Wicked Wednesday

Road Side Gift Shop Kink

Part of American history is all those odd road side, beach front, and tourist trap souvenir stands.  If you’re from the US and have taken driving trips no doubt you’ve seen them they advertise T shirts, fudge, taffy and the ever enticing local flavor themed things.   There must be a universal law that requires a percentage of them to use roadside bill boards that haven’t changed in 50 years on the edge of farm land as a main advertising strategy.
Now you may not have me pegged as an Americana or nostalgia I just have to see this local backwoods “attraction” such as Albert the Bull in Iowa type of guy.  Which would be exactly correct except for one thing; the amazing ability or gift kinky people have for knowing and sharing where to find things to fit their kinks.  And that my friends is how our story begins…
I found myself winding my way across from Kansas City back to St. Louis recently after a series of meetings just before the holidays.  For years I had seen signs for a place right off one of the major exits (major if a you’re in the middle of the country kind of way).   Actually I’d seen the building before and made jokes to the Chesty Blonde how it reminded me of a scene from a slasher flick.   Once upon a time though I had read in some blog or spanko related thread somewhere that the place sold spanking paddles.
Now as odd as that may seem to some it really didn’t seem out of school to me in an old school 1970’s & 80’s kind of way.  I remember every schmaltzy souvenir stand I got dragged into as a kid had from Niagara Falls to Florida and all the way across to the Grand Canyon always had the same things T Shirts, Cups, Plates, & Shot Glasses, Fudge, Taffy, or some ungodly candy and right there with all the “treasures” of a driving vacation was often some type of paddle with cliché little sayings on them like “Board of Education”, “Heat for the Seat” and I’m sure a myriad of other spanking themed admonishments  I don’t recall.   So looking to finish off some of my Kinky Christmas shopping I stopped.
As usual I looked like a fish out of water.   There are a few pickup trucks in the parking lot, the wind is howling across the plains and the sun is setting to the west.  The building is bordered more or less by a McDonalds on one side and a series of gas stations on the other.   In the summer I imagine that on a Thursday night and throughout the weekend the same parking lot might be caressed by a warm breeze on a humid night, littered with cars of people coming from or going to the Lake of the Ozarks for a get away or dashing across farm lands to or from St. Louis or KC as I was doing.    So I got out of my black car with dark black tinted windows, wearing a dark blue suit, wing tips, shirt and tie.   I didn’t look like a tourist.  A fact the registered on the workers face as I walked through the door and was met with a WTF type glare.
Shortly after as I wondered the aisles that were lined with faded T shirts, “handmade Indian wares”, more Ozark themed glasses.  Unlike a lot of places in our politically correct society there were a few huge glass cases lined with pocket knives, lock blades, hunting and fishing knives, daggers, and the like in them.  For a moment I wasn’t a sadist in a suit I was a kid again looking at the cutlery.   Eventually I shook myself out of my child like stupor and remembered what I was there for…to find the paddles.
Now I imagined when recalling the post that the paddles in question would be little more than a ruler.  And inch and a half to two inches wide maybe a quarter inch thick.  Sure they might sting like hell and on a kid’s bare bottom make the point but on a heavy spanking player be nothing more than a novelty.
Now in fairness I pick on Missouri for a lot of things fairly often like being overly religious, uber conservative in the morality category, anything but progressive and cosmopolitan in most areas.  One thing I don’t ever give them much credit for is for such an uptight Vanilla state they love to talk about spanking.  Sure not in the open kinky play party kind of way but I’m hard pressed to remember a vanilla party in the decade I’ve been here where someone if not many people used terms related to the topic.
So I selected my implement of choice between the two theme’s offered.  Looked at it like any craftsman would if it was something they planned to put to good use, felt the weight, inspected the grain, decided whether or not it was fit for the purpose.  Rather than the toy type piffle described above this was a 1 by 4 (or more accurately about ¾ by 3 ¾ ) piece of wood that while light certainly could mean business.  The edges weren’t rounded to avoid brusing, the wording slightly engraved and then called out by a dark brown paint, a little picture had been glued on the board and then sealed into the final product with a few coats of polyurethane.  The back was unfinished and had a simple ink stamp that declared it a product of the Ozarks and said “Victims Sign Here”.     I chuckled as it bought back a host of memories for another time.
So I made my way past the plates and cups, down the aisle and  toward the front of the store.   I overheard as the two women in their sixties or so told the guy in his mid 20’s to “ring the man out” long before I was close to the counter.  However in true Missouri fashion where people tend to always want to know about another person’s business when they saw what I was carrying they made their way toward the counter as well.   I handed the man my wares and fished cash from my pockets, he couldn’t look me in the eye.  The old girls were nowhere near as embarrassed. The interloper in the suit had suddenly become interesting.  One woman offered “we sell a lot more of those than you’d imagine”  I politely replied that it did shock me at all.  The other woman offered with a snicker “the way you’re carrying that thing it looks like somebody is going to get a really good butt whoop’in” her thick rural Missouri accent ringing through.  I just smiled a little, mostly to be polite and said “yes they most certainly are”.
The guy ringing me out was getting even more embarrassed but I’m not sure it was by what I was buying or how his coworkers were discussing it with me.   After all as I mentioned before Missouri does love spanking. He handed me my change and placed the paddle in a bag. The ladies couldn’t resist just one more jab, one more round of playful banter.  One of them called out “are you going to make them sign it afterward?”
Now here is where I could have let it go, I could have simple said yes or no but just couldn’t.  So the first thing that came to my mind escaped my lips “not only is she going to sign it but I’m going to make her kiss it with her favorite lipstick too.”  And with that I took my leave.   Somehow I imagine the old girls are still talking about me and not in hushed tones.

Wicked Wednesday


Sometimes there is nothing I love more that a romantic night with soft candle light, seductive music, meaningful whispers, gentle caresses, and making love to you slowly, gently, and selfishly taking every exquisite second and stretching it so that each second feels like a delicious eternity and most of all lovingly. There is a connection that comes from these times that words can’t describe, feelings to powerful for mere letters to represent, that anything uttered would devalue their meaning. Become a failed attempt to express their power, their sway, and their magic. I do without question love these times.
ChallengeSometimes things are simpler, we steal whatever fleeting moments we can and fill them with pleasure. Our bodies intertwined as we do our best to meet our own needs as well as each others. There is a comfortable familiarity with all of this that hold its own special charm, a necessity without elaborate production or pre planned intentions your body against mine again cheating time as we are the only people in the universe and time for a few fleeting moments time and the expectations of others has ceased to exist. I know that these are the times no matter how common place help to keep us connected in a physical sense.
Sometimes things are darker. A place where my desires are to take you to a place not discussed in polite conversation. A place I crave to be and that you dare to go with me. Whether it is a place we let our imagines run our actions or perhaps a place to show our true natures however basal and lurid the need as we dance on the edge of pleasure mixed with oh so many others feelings and sensations. Emotions that over run us both. Sensations that are craved that one in their right mind might not admit that they ever desired let alone enjoyed. This is the place that in the back of our minds in the still of a long cold night we find ourselves remembering more than any other. This is our secret that only glances and simple phrases indicate that it exists.
Sometimes you are such a temptress. Dolled up, flirtatiously calling me like a mythical Siren and daring me to crash My body, my soul, my very being onto your rocky shores where it will be shattered beyond recognition. This is when you are at you erotic best, a picture of seduction, of sensuality, of confidence and beauty. This is the part that is not story book romance but a hot love story. The kind portrayed in plays, and stories, in movies and every other form of entertainment since the beginning of time. It is the type of thing that makes meek women bitter, puritans out raged, and people uncomfortable with their own desires and needs shake in jealousy swimming in fear. It is always amazing to see you like this.
Sometimes though I don’t really want any of these things, instead I want to take you as you are, lifting your skirt, pushing aside your panties, pawing at your chest. Our kisses deep, wet and intense, our bodies rising and falling, our hearts quickened, our breathes rapid, and no words just sounds of pleasure and delight as I fuck you like I mean it.

Wicked Wednesday