Daddy & Julie

“You’ll say it, princess, when you’re coming.”

He swept the hair out of her eyes and cupped her already lifted chin. She was invariably willful and he smiled at her stoicism. Even now, with her naked limbs stretched wide across the bed, she was stubbornly engaged. Her eyes gleamed fire and she pursed her lips when their gazes met.

“Tell me you’ll say it, Julie” he said forcefully.

“Fine, daddy. Fine, I’ll say it.”

She rotated her hips upwards, a fidget made of pure arousal. The lips between her legs were alive and she offered herself like a skilled toreador. Her body was unaware of its restraints, her focus single-minded and obsessive for his attention. Her mouth opened and silently screamed for touch, her eyebrows perked in infatuation. He studied the curves of her breasts, the way her breathe undulated from her hair to her toes, the tumble of soft blonde fur near her navel. She was such a woman, bound and yet so active, and he loved how easily she could abandon herself and leave only the most well-worn characteristic behind: neediness, impatience, desire.  

He smiled at her exquisiteness and affectionately stroked her belly. She wiggled her pelvis towards his fingers.

“Such a little whore for your daddy”.

The tender words lingered in the atmosphere as his belt sliced through the bedroom and seared a near-immediate welt to Julie’s inner thigh.

“Oooooppph” she murmured.

But her skin drank the injury and it spread his adoring contradiction throughout each cell of her body. Again and again the belt met her flesh, making bands of purple and pink on her abdomen, thighs, chest. Julie sang with each strike but her steadied her limbs for his next advance. He loved the vigor of her body, its indomitable robustness. As if her body was built solely to withstand the inhumanity of his love.

“That’s my good girl” he whispered as the belt fell quiet again by his side.

With glossed eyes, she craned her neck off the mattress, sweat mingling along her hair line. “Daddy…” she crooned. He knew that sultry tone, knew the temptation and innocence she tried to mask in it; the tone she always used to dissuade him from abuse. He kneeled next to her face and knotted his hand through her hair.

“Baby wants daddy to be nice?”

Before she could answer, he thrust his tongue into her open mouth. She met his lips with fury and urgency and moaned each time she exhaled. When he broke their kiss, he looped the belt around her neck and pulled tight, until her eyes woke to a world with less oxygen.

The leather band twisted into his fist and his free hand traveled to the warm markings on her thighs. She flinched instinctual under his investigation.

“No. Don’t move! Let daddy see what he’s done to you.”

Her animation surrendered itself as his free hand spread her pussy lips, revealing a watery invitation between. He rubbed two fingers between the inner and outer labia, his fingers engulfed with her fluid. He held her pussy open and stared into her eyes.

 “Why are you so wet, baby?”

This was where she struggled. It was not the metal chains or the impossible positions he bound her to. It was not the beatings or the impossible waiting. It was finding words when he had stripped her of her intelligence.

 “…Because…” she started “…. Because…"

“Because why baby?”

“….because…. you’re… touching me, daddy”

“And you like that, baby? You like daddy coming into your room, ripping off your jammies, holding open your dripping cunt, like you’re an animal, like you’re a whore who can’t control her own desire? You like that daddy leaves you alone all day and strangles you awake at night?”

Julie’s mouth pouted open, all of her expression flooded in stimulation. “Yes… daddy…yes…”

“And you like it when daddy treats your pussy like this?”

She sharply inhaled as he flicked the end of his belt onto her defenseless cunt. Each whack made her entire body wince and yield a galaxy of whimpers. His aim was general but with every bullseye to her clit Julie bucked with shock. She could not decide if his violence was pleasurable or painful and her facial expression short-circuited from the indecision. To confuse her further, he drove his fingers into her hole and he inwardly smiled when her noises drop several decibels, a hallmark of her deep arousal.

“There’s a good girl,” he said lovingly as he jerked the belt around her neck.

Her eyes whipped and her whole body erupted fuchsia. He rhythmically pumped two fingers in and out of her pussy and kept the belt taut in his other hand.  Instinctively her pussy clenched and released with his fingers’ movement and a deluge cascaded out of her. As he felt her gspot swell and lower itself, he loosened the snare of the belt. 

“Oh, look. There’s baby’s spot. Right there. Who’s spot is this baby?” He tapped his fingers to emphasize his question. Her eyes transfixed towards the ceiling, her soul captivated by his command. She loved him for touching a fragment of her body that she could never touch or see herself.  

“…it’s yours….” she whispered.

“Who’s?” His fingers coiled upwards and rooted into her swelling.

“Fuck. Daddy’s! It’s yours. It’s daddy’s spot!” The words came out in a tornado of relief. It was daddy’s spot. It was and would always be daddy’s spot no matter how long he left her alone.

“That’s a good girl, Julie. Daddy’s going to unchain your arms now. Touch your pussy. Show daddy how you rub your clitty.”

She didn’t feel the pain that the red marks around her wrist implied. Dutifully, she plied her pussy apart and easily found her clit, soaked and awake. Her fingers circled around the outer edges and he slipped his fingers through the grooves of her pussy. Her hips pulsated and her feet pulled against the remaining restraints, the endorphins completely vanquishing the tension around her ankles. He watched as her nipples rose and deepened in color, announced the approaching of her orgasm.

“Someone’s close to cumming, baby.” He maintained steady assault on her pussy even though she slowed the circling of her clit.

“No, keep going baby. You’re going to come and you’re going to say it” he said matter-of-factly.

Julie mouth twitched in discomfort, the most genuine tell of vulnerability she had shown all evening. Her hands obeyed and spun in pace with his cues, while she hesitated with her mouth.

“You’re going to say Julie. Right as you’re coming. Do you hear me!” He yanked his hand out of pussy and let down a flurry of smacks on her open gaping hole.

“…Yes! … Daddy! Please. Yes! I’ll say it!” Julie panted her words, her whole face flush with deliberation.

He slammed his hand back up against her gspot and she screeched. With his other hand he slid his cock outside of his boxers and dragged his palm across his girth. Julie’s want amplified when she saw the glisten head.

“Good little slut. Keep rubbing your clit.” He kissed the insides of her thighs as he methodically pumped her pussy. He kissed the bruises on her belly and the sucked each nipple affectionately. He kissed up to her ear and let the warmth of his breath caress her face.

“I know you’re close baby” he said sweetly “You’re going to say it. If you don’t, no more fuckies for you for the next week.”

Julie’s body reared at the threat as the avalanche of her orgasm threatening to suffocate her. She would say it. She would have to. He fingered her faster and her eyes dilated in desire.  

“Besides, you love daddy” he whispered “and you want to show daddy that you’re his best girl.”

The words hurled her over the edge.

“Thank you daddy!” she began as her pussy clenched around his fingers, her limbs constricted in ecstasy.

“Thank you what, daddy?” he said with a smirk.

“Thank you for fucking her before fucking me!”, she screamed, her shame completely evaporated, her body thrashing under her orgasm.

 “Thank you daddy for fucking her before me!” she moaned again, her syllables softened with lust.

“That’s a good girl!” he snarled as he buried his cock deep inside her pussy. 

Baby steps with baby boy

“Oh god! Fuck…. fuck. Wait… wait…!”

All of him is constricted. Every blessed inch. His cum has split, all over his belly. His hips are still locked up, pulsing off the couch, contorted with deep pleasure.
My face is close to his open thighs. My cheek grazes the insides of one and all of his body surges again and bucks.

“Wait! …Wait…” he pants.

And I wait, letting nothing of me touch his body, even though my instincts are to scoop him up and kiss him clean. He breathes unevenly and exhales loudly.
“Fuck… fuck, I don’t even know how to describe what just happened…” he says as his body sinks back into the cushions. “God… I need a glass of water”

I get him a glass of water and bring him a warm towel to clean up the cum. When I come back into the room, he is sitting up right, looking more like his regular self. More composed. He gulps the water, audibly and when he’s has his fill he exhales dramatically, this time with satisfaction.

“Fuck. I feel like a raw nerve” he says through a sheepish smile.

Nothing has ever sounded so beautiful to my ears. I’ve accomplished the impossible: I’ve overwhelmed the man of iron nerves.

“Where you in my asshole? Like your tongue was in my ass?” he says this with a mostly giddy tone.

“Ha, no. I was just on the outside. You were too tight baby. You’re still not relaxed enough. It would have hurt if I pushed in.”

“But what were you doing? It felt like you were inside! Were you around it or on it?”

“I was right over it, licking all around. I could tell you weren’t completely relaxed, so I stayed right on the outside, and applied pressure all around it”

He balls up his index finger and his thumb and makes a mock asshole in his fist. “Wait, show me. pretend this is my asshole. What did you do with your tongue?”

I undulate over his hand, tongue broad and fluttering. As soon as my mouth meets his fist he exclaims “Oh fuck yeah, that’s what that was!”

We laugh and touch, ankles rubbing, knees knotting.

“I guess it’s like when I finger your pussy and you ask me what the fuck I’m doing.”

“Yeah, it’s exactly like that. You’re playing with a part I can’t ever see and I have no idea how you make those sensations happen.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But fuck, wow, I’m exhausted. That just took so much out of me.” He lays down, motioning for me to snuggle by his side.

“You liked it though?” I say, lips brushing against his chest hair.

“Yeah. Fuck. Loved it. You know it’s all so new to me. I’ve never done this with anyone else.”

“Well yeah, me too.”

He shifts upwards, meets his gaze with mine “Wait, really?”

“Yeah duh. Who the hell's asshole do you think I’ve ever wanted to fuck as bad as yours?”

“Wait… but really, I thought you had so much experience. Wait... can we just forget you said that. I like thinking you have a lot of experience.”

“Ha, fine. Okay” I say through a laugh as I wrap my arms around him.

We float in noiseless lull between his orgasm and mine. And what I am really thinking ferments, unsaid, on the tip of my tongue:

Such a sweet little boy. He doesn’t understand that even if I’ve never owned a man’s asshole before it doesn’t render me inexperienced. I am the master student of bottoming sex—and oh, precious baby boy, now is my time to teach.

One day, that asshole will be mine.

One day, beautiful boy, you will beg for it to be mine.

The Seduction of Sinews

We’re playing, because we play.

He’s the Father and I’m the contemptuous catholic tart splayed on her knees, suckling the body of Christ. Absolutely nothing can distract me from this role-play; I’ve been begging for it for months.

But then I touch his legs. They’re rock solid, so taut with muscle.

I can no longer pretend to be a 15 year old harlot. His legs are the most masculine thing in the universe and they’ve frozen the air in my lungs with the sheer force of delighted surprise.


*He’s such a fucking man*.

That’s what my cells say.


*I’m drowning*.

That’s what my pussy says.

His legs are so manly there is only one thing for me feel in response: thoroughly, deliciously womanly.



We finish our role-play, him fucking my face, arching his hips far into my mouth. He cums hard and I wiggle him deeper in so his cum hits the back of my throat. We both collapse on the floor, laughing. Our play always ends with ripples of laughter between us, a shared exclamation of gratitude as much as disbelief. We kiss and I look down to notice the tiniest glisten of cum dribbling from his cock.

“Oh wait, let me get that…” I kiss that sliver off his cock before he can even react. His laughter comes out more robust and enthusiastic: “You are unique!”

I am unique, because now we’re in the bathroom, and I’m curled on the floor watching as he gets dressed. He’s wearing those briefs that accentuate the tight lines of his quads, the powerful curves of his hamstrings. In this light, in this lowered position, I can see the explosion of muscles compacted in his calves. Every inch of his legs are coated with soft taupe fuzz. My hands start to trickle the outlines of his legs, my kisses start littering love all around the back of his thighs.

“Are you flexing? Holy shit? It’s so tight” I’m kissing his calves and only stop to ask that. He’s not flexing, this is just how much testosterone laden tissue is in this man’s body. I’m convinced he’s made out of marble, covered in warm flesh.

I am nearly out of breath with excitement, touching his legs. This must be the feeling of unearthing long lost history. This must be the feeling of pure elation after months of exploration. I am a woman and I’ve just discovered the manliest feature on earth.

My fingers massage the outside of his hips, the inner sinews of his thighs. Everything about his legs are complete opposite to mine. Everything about this moment is the sweetest depiction devotion: he’s standing, watching my adoration in the mirror. I’m indulgently stroking his legs and then lose myself in unrestrained kisses.

Hours could be lost massaging and kissing these legs. I could spend hours kissing places I never would have thought erotic: the back of his knees, the groove of his Achilles heel, the crease that defines his ass from his legs. We don’t have hours, we just have these minutes. He lets me caress my kisses and fingertips along his lines for only a handful of moments before concealing his most sexy feature behind jeans.



Life is so strange and beautiful. We played today and it was supposed to be the fantasy I’ve waited half my life for. But I can’t stop thinking of the afterglow: I could spend days on that floor worshipping his legs.

Mommy knows best...

Pearl earrings on date night? 

Yeah, it's about to get incestual. 

Secrets & taboos

...I want to tell you a secret...

...because I want to gauge reaction to something I'm interested in writing about/exploring.

Recently, something really unexpected but very, very hot made its way into my sex life. I’ve found myself role-playing with a friend in a very sexualized manner. Our relationship is extremely flirtatious, very explicitly honest and yet only on the cusp of concretely sexual. We have made out and groped each other but never had sex (...that's a complex story as to why. But it's mostly because we looooove the prolonged tension.)

Today we had phone sex. And it was one of the hottest, most psychologically intense experiences I've had in a long time.

It's because he was a little boy and I was Mommy.

To hear all that vulnerability in his voice, to hear that perverse mixture of arousal and tension because we’re playing with such dangerous ideas was so fucking hot. Words cannot encapsulate this. It was just so incredibly sexy for him to ask mommy if he could cum and responding with “Yes, baby, cum for Mommy. Be a good boy and let Mommy hear you cum baby….”

This is so taboo. Like the ultimate incest taboo.

I've spent a long time in BDSM cyber circles and the Daddy/girl dynamic is alive and well. People identify as "Daddies" or "baby girls"; those are viable labels in such social networks like Fetlife (that's like kinky Facebook, if you didn't know). In broader strokes, "dominant male/submissive female" is overwhelmingly the most prevalent and seemly accepted dynamic. Mommies and little boys seem so few and far between in what I've come across. There is no option to label yourself as "Mommy" or "baby boy" on Fetlife, despite being a kink-website with a multitude of options for specifying your quirks. As such, the Mommy/boy dynamic seems to be sequestered out of the public view, even amongst the kinksters. The “Mommies” I have seen appear to actually look like real life mommies: overweight, saddle-bag titted, matronly and old.

This is not me. I'm 29, vivacious and have an ass like granite.

To be a mommy seems freakish, even among the freaks. To be a little boy seems pathetic and less cherished than being a “baby girl” to her adoring “Daddy”.  And that is not what my very-sophisticated-friend-turned-momentary-little-boy feels like at all to me. I love him for his strength, his intuitive ability to handle the many layers of the human psyche, his independence and his mind's flexibility. To have him personify the complete opposite of himself--to be timid, to forfeit all his worldly experience--is what makes it so fucking hot. It's hot to expose a side of him I didn't know he had.

I really want to go down this twisted-as-fuck road. To allow it to shake up my morals, drag me out of my comfort zone, and bond—on such an eccentric and intimate level—with someone else. To write about it, expose it, savor it, exploit it.

But, it's hard for me to place this experience, hard for me to conceptualize its appeal to people beyond myself. "Dominant female" is something that fits me better as I grow; I've developed beyond the original naiveté I possessed when I first started exploring submission and BDSM. But Mommy? I never thought I could find myself fleshing out that role--coddling the vulnerability of a grown man, pretending to make his sexuality something new and delicate and off limits and getting soooooooo wet doing it.

My kinks are evolving and something about it is a little unnerving; I am on such feral and psychologically penetrating territory. It’s a little scary.

But I suppose the one thing that has stayed so steadfast in all my time exploring my kinks is this: fear makes me wet.