Fighting Spirit

http://pervertedimp.com/2013/05/02/fighting-spirit/

No Fighting

http://pervertedimp.com/2013/01/17/no-fighting/

Just Hands

http://pervertedimp.com/2012/11/08/just-hands/

Be Still

http://pervertedimp.com/2012/07/21/be-still/

Three Years

I started this blog three years ago this week. I’d been in the local community about one year at that point. So, four years in the kinky community. It has definitely been the “bumpy, wild and sometimes very dark” ride that I promised in that first post. I has also been wonderful, amazing and very fun. There has been love and joy. There has been anger and pain. There have been incredible highs and dizzying spirals. My life has been filled with new people, new experiences, new love, new family, and new growth, I have battled old demons, old habits, old programming, and old beliefs. I have learned new skills, new ways of being, new ways of communicating, and discovered new strengths inside myself. I have made plenty of mistakes, uncovered weaknesses, become lost and broken. But through it all, I have found support, I have learned, I have grown, and I continue to strive for better. I have found joy in helping, in serving, in teaching and in guiding others.

I have discovered things that did not work for me, but they do not make me a failure. I have learned from these experiences, just as much as any others, perhaps more. And I am still learning from them, and teaching from them. That is one of the reasons I created this blog, so others who might read it would not feel alone, would know that others are having similar experiences. I have often found it hard to write about these things when they are happening, but I think I got around to most of them eventually. Often when the problem was solved, or at least finally understood, was I able to reflect publicly on it.

I started this blog anonymously. I think it was a year before I started sharing it with people, with my significant others and with my friends in the community. About the same time that I created PervertedImp.com and started double posting at both WordPress and the .com. I still haven’t decided if I’m ever going to stop the WordPress one and just have it forward to the .com. I don’t have much of a following there, but I do have a few. (WordPressers, comment if you’d like me to keep that blog up, or just come join the rest of us at .com.) I still keep a separate Fetlife account, though the lines are getting a bit fuzzy with Modern Dungeon Quarterly posts. And it is the pen name I use for my erotica. The internet created feelings of protective anonymity in my generation, and I find it useful to keep.

Well, that paragraph went around in a lot of odd circles. Let’s move forward.

I’ve put together collections of my erotica from this blog, both stories and scene descriptions. Organized by subject matter, into short PDFs with a few things that were never posted here. Some were posted on Fetlife and some were published in Pill Hill Press’s erotica anthologies. I want to offer them to you, my readers, for free. You can find them on the new Erotica Collections page, where you can also make a donation if you like, or click over to HP Magcloud to purchase a printed copy. Each week I’ll post another one, until they are all up. I’ll also be putting together an anthology of all of them together which will be available next month.

Tied Up and Tossed in a Corner

I asked to be tied up and tossed in a corner. I wanted to fight the rope. I wanted to sit and struggle and soak in it. So I asked him, and he said we’d see. The club can often make that impossible.

The night started with a new bit of metal from our blacksmith friend. A flat bit of metal with a double cuff piece folded over. Nice new hinges. He pins my wrists in and then hooks it up to a suspension point. I think I can slip my hand out, but I just hold on. I’m in socks, so up on my tiptoes. Then he pulls out his flyswatter. Oh god oh god oh god. I scamper and whimper as he grins.

Zap.

Zap. Zap. Zap.

Squeak, spin squeal, spin.

Zap. Zap. Zap.

“The perfect dress for this.”

Fuck. Ow. Shit.

Spin, Spin, twist.

Zap. Zap. Zap.

Yip. Squeak. Spin.

“Just think, when you’re tied up in the corner… and I’ll have your socks off, too.”

Whimper. Zap. Zap. Zap. Zap. Squeal.

“I have to have my fun, too.”

“Yes, sir.”

Zap. Zap. Zap. Zap.

Squeal and spin.

“Feel better?”

“Yes, sir.”

He takes me down, shows off the toys and then its time for class.

A young woman has traded him flogging for service. He gives her to us. Twenty minutes of massage a piece for his women. I sit in front of her, shoulders please. Her hands are soft, my knots are hard. But she does a very nice job, rubbing and working some of them out. I count the songs. Four and I let her know she’s met the time. Thank you, very nice. Toy is next.

He grabs the bag of 6mm hemp and sits down, smiling at me. It’s time. I step over in front of him and put my glasses in the roses. He looks up at me, considering, and I smile back nervously eager. Wondering what kind of tie he has in mind. Turns me around and starts on my wrists. Box tie.

Strange people in front of me, I drop my eyes to the ground, my focus back to him. Rope, delicious rope going around my arms and chest, through the armpit to lock it down. Second rope, lower arms, lock it down, pull in tight. A third rope, around the waist, tightening further, no movement at all in the arms. My elbows wobble and I can move my fingers, but that’s it.

“Look what I brought.”

Red clips. Oh god. Seven little red clips in a bundle.

“I have to make it fun for me, too.”

I whimper and scamper back a bit, a look and I come back. He reaches up to a nipple. Whimpering and squeaking as he puts it on. Left. Right. Left. Right. Squealing and swearing and breathing hard. Left. Right. Three on each, a line across each. I gather my control as they sink in. He waves the last one at me.

“Where do you think this one goes?”

I whimper as he lifts my dress and pinches in on the front. Shit. Fuck. Oh that pinches. Breathe. Breathe. Ow!

“Which one hurts most?”

“That one.”

“How’s your head?”

“Light?”

“From what?”

“Not breathing.”

I kneel down, drop my head and focus. I cannot fail so quickly. I can do this. Breathe slowly. Deeply. He moves away. Breathe. Focus. Okay, better now. I can’t fight the rope. I can barely move, but I can fight the pain.

A blindfold comes down. Tied around my head. He pulls me to my feet. Forward between tables and chairs, to a cubby. A couch. Down, lays me down, gets me a pillow and adjusts my dress. He sits opposite for a moment, someone else, too. Toy, I think. Then he wanders off. I can feel him in my feet, out past my feet.

I can hear everyone. Talking and walking, playing and screaming. I shift my legs, I feel my socks on my feet and I shiver, remembering. My feet, oh god, the flyswatter. I twitch for a moment, and then settle in. I can hear him talking in a group nearby.

Settle in, feel the rope, relax. Uncomfortable arms. Shift. Pillow moves a bit. Settle. Shoulder. Shift. Better for a while. I can feel him moving. Hear his keys. Hear his boots. Arms still annoyed. Okay, sit up. Feet against the other couch, a person there.

Much better. Sink back into the rope. I can feel him in front of me.

Zap! Zap zap zap.

Squeal and squirm. Twist and yip.

Fuck. Shit. Twisting against the lower clip. Ow!

Zap. Zap. Zap.

Squeal. Turn. Scramble.

Zap. Zap. Zap.

Fuck. Ow. Squeal. Twitch.

He zaps toy and I can hear her try to be quiet.

I twitch in fear. A few more shots on both sides. I think the engineer is nearby, too. Squealing and squirming. Legs up on my couch. He wanders away, but I keep twitching. I can feel him in my forehead, moving. Breathing hard, trying to relax. I can’t, yet. He’s right out there.

Settle in. Find comfortable again. Breathe. Keep track of the people. Listen to the electric booth. Listen for him. Move with the music.

He’s back. Zap. Zap. Zap.

Scream and squeal and squirm.

Zap. Zap. Zap.

Scramble. Squirm. Swear.

Zap. Zap. Zap.

Squeal. Yip.

Fingers. Fuck. Ow. Ow. Ow. Wrist.

It’s okay, fine now.

Zap. Zap. Zap.

Squeal. Squirm.

Twitch when he switches to toy. Back and forth.

“Oh, I know what I want.”

He grabs and foot and I whimper and fuss.

“Stop.”

I freeze, focus on breathing. Hold still.

Zap. Squeal. Zap zap zap. Scream.

Zap. Zap. Zap. Squirming but trying to hold my foot still.

Zaps the heel. Not so bad, the whole foot, not too bad. Toes!

Ow! Squeal and squirm. He lets it go and wanders off again.

I curl up, twitching. Trying to calm again. He comes back, sits across. Forehead towards him, twitching.

“Not really abandonment if I keep coming back is it?”

“No, just makes me paranoid.”

“Why?”

“Because the last two times you had the flyswatter.”

He wanders off and I sink back in. My left pinky is going numb, I shift and rock and enjoy the music. Cross legged and sinking in relieves the pressure. Rocking to the music, settling in to the rope. I feel him come back again and twitch my head slightly. Afraid.

“Look at her head. Are you almost done?”

“No, Sir.”

Wanders off. I can track him with my forehead. The music keeps me moving. Sinking. Back again, Smack.

My thigh.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

Groan. Moan.

Smack. Smacking to the beat.

Groan into a scream and he stops.

“How you doing?”

“Good. Pinky was numb, better now.”

Something with the toy and she comments how hard it is not to talk.

Gone again. Sinking in, music, beat, rocking in circles. My nipples catch fire. They are suddenly awake and hurting like he just put the clips on. Stabbing pain. I rock harder and snap my teeth. Wanting to bite down on something for the pain. Shaking my head, swearing, rocking, snapping. Breathe. Don’t get light headed again. It’s just pain. Breathe, rock, snap, moan.

He’s back.

“The clips hurt so much, but I know they are going to hurt more when you take them off.”

“Do you want to orgasm?”

“Not without permission.”

“I could take them off and put them on toy.”

Oh god, I don’t want them off.

“Toy, don’t you want to help Miss?”

“Yes, oh god.”

“Toy, toy, toy, no, it’ll hurt so much, Toy, that’s not helping, toy.”

But he has her distracted and she’s agreeing. Back to me, and I’m lying back against the couch.

“Ready?”

“No, Sir.”

“1, 2, 3!”

Off comes the lower one and off I go, screaming orgasm, kick someone at the end of the bed, not sure who. Thank you, Sir.

“1, 2, 3!”

The first nipple clamp on comes off. Screaming, kicking orgasm. Thank you, Sir.

“1, 2, 3!”

And again, trying not to kick this time. Thank you, Sir.

“1, 2, 3.”

He waits for me to orgasm before he pulls the clip and I scream and arch.

“1, 2, 3.”

Again. Orgasm, pain, scream. Thank you, Sir.

Oh god oh god oh god. The last two are going to hurt so badly.

“1, 2, 3.”

Orgasm, and no pain. Thank you, Sir.

He grabs both, and I whimper and press back against the couch.

“1, 2, 3.”

Orgasming, fear, pulls, Pain. Screaming, screaming, swearing, crying. Riding the wave higher and rocking and sobbing. Gasping breath. Thank you, Sir. Breathing. Calming, settling back. Whimpering from the other couch. Toy.

Breathing, relaxing, He moves away and I sit back up. Rocking, weaving to the music. Sinking deep into the rope. Leaning forward to release pressure on arms. Rocking in circles, enjoying the music. Sinking, spacing. Gone.

Back again.

“How are you doing?”

“Arms hurt a bit, lower arms, wrists.”

“Are you done?”

“No, spacing.”

“So we should take you out while you’re still spacing?”

“Probably.”

Up and out. And the ropes come off, inch by inch. The pull of the rope on my skin sending me higher. Shivering, thrilling at the feel of it. Pressure releasing. Breathing and flying. Slowly lower my arms, raise them up to stretch. His hand on the small of my back, gently pushing me forward, to the opposite couch. Sits me down, dumps the rope in my lap.

Rope. Hemp. Oh gods hemp. I pull it up to my face, breathing it in. Lift my legs to brace my arms, bury my face in the hemp. Breathing, smelling, Shifting my head whenever my breath overwhelms the scent. I think toy has left the couch, sitting opposite now. I want to lie down.

I slide a hand over, no one there, just my sock. I lie down, curl my legs up on the couch. Rope still in my face. So far gone. I can still hear, but I no longer care. Rope. Glorious rope. So lucky, so blessed, so loved. Mind just floats. A blanket over me, fleece. I wasn’t cold, but it contains me. Keeps me inside myself. Rope and comfort and wonderful.

“Is she still asleep?”

“Not asleep, didn’t sleep.”

He pulls the blindfold off.

“It’s bright out there.”

“Yes.”

“You still have all the rope.”

“MmHm.”

“You have to put it away, you know.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is that what you needed?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, Sir. Thank you, so much.”

I grab his hand. Kiss it. So grateful.

The lights come on. Time to clean up. I sit up on the couch and take care of the rope. Coming the rest of the way down slowly as everyone else takes care of the gear.

I thank those around me, for taking care of me, of everything. So lucky to have such friends, such family. The world comes back and we load out and head to breakfast. Such an wonderful night.

The Struggle

Stuck. Fucked. Fuckable, for that matter. Helpless. Strung out and up and every which way. Tied up tight in a not-so-neat little package. Just the way she liked it. A challenge.

Eyes closed, focusing on every inch of rope as it touches body. Looking inwardly for the weak link. The knots, all in one place, rubbing tantalizingly on her ass. Left wrist in a simple cat’s paw. Right wrist in an even less secure hold. But both pulled tight, struggling would make at least one go numb and useless. Hair, always a weak link, and not overall helpful, but easily freed. Ankles were a little sloppy, they might be possible. One thing at a time.

Pushing up one hand and tilting her head back as far as she could. Fingers finding purchase on the hair tie string. Tugging back with finger tips, forward gently with head. Slowly, carefully, don’t pull too much hair out of her head. And she shakes it free. With a sigh, settles her head back to the floor, glancing up at him grinning over at her.

Wrist check. She twists and tugs gently, but not much movement. Not yet.

Ankles. A lot of wraps. Tightened in the center, pulled down. But some give.

“Five minutes down.” Crap.

Wiggle. Struggle, turn onto one side. Use the floor for friction, not much to get. Rub them together, just one loop. Over the heel. Come on, just one. Fuckfuckfuck, cramp. Breathe. Okay. One loop. Left foot. There, off the heel. Next one. Two, okay. Other foot. One, two. Wiggle, squirm, move them down. Four more loops to go. One at a time. More slack with each one. Keep breathing. Three. Four. Three Four. Last two, lots of slack, Off the go. Legs are down.

“Five minutes left.” Oh gods.

Arms. Arms are very stuck. Wait, knots are free. No, well, not useful knots. Damn. Um. Wrists. Gotta start at the wrists. How? Wiggle. Squirm. Would sitting up help? No. Just waste time. Cone, cone, cone for all you’re worth. Can’t, not enough movement. Stuck so high on the back already. Cat’s paw. Turn head, bite rope. Come on, pull it looser. Can’t, just as tight. Think!

Stop. Close eyes. Breathe. Think slower. Picture it. Okay, what can you do?

Nothing. Can’t move enough. Good and stuck. Flail, squirm, wiggle. Beg? Could beg. No, not yet. Twist. Push. Pull. Arms barely move. Fingers wave uselessly in the air. Nothing to grab.

Too much struggling, fingers start tingling. A glance shows his grin getting bigger as he alternates between her and the timer. Too late. Not going to get out of it.

She struggles to sitting and then standing, back into the corner she started from, glare a little less confident, smirk bigger, as he come towards her again, rope in hand.

Takedown

She glared at him from the corner, an impish smirk playing at her lips. He smiled back, weighing the rope in his right hand, left patting the coils hooked still to his belt. She braced herself, looking for a way past, as he pulled the coil loose and tossed the tails to the floor. Twisting the center into a cuff, he slips his own hand through, preparing for her charge.

He takes a step toward her, time is up. She scurries to his left, turning as he grabs for her arm. His hand slides down, but catches at her wrist and they spin in a circle together until he lands her up against the wall. His body trapping hers, he slides the cuff from his wrist to hers as she struggles to get away.

Wrapping his freed hand in the rope just below the cuff he prepares for his next move. Knowing the hand is lost, she tries to push it away from the rest of her body, readying for him to let up from the wall.

The pressure releases and she tries to flee away from the caught hand and the rope attached to it. But he is ready, tangling her legs with his and twisting her arm behind her back. And she is on the ground, a knee in the small of her back, her hand on the opposite shoulder blade. He lifts her head by the hair and slips the rope around the front of her neck to keep her from struggling, then feeds it through her armpit, because he know she will anyway.

One arm secured, she hold the other one straight away from her body, as far from him as she can. But he is taller, his arms longer, he grabs the wrist and starts pulling it in. She rocks and kicks and tries to force him off, but he is steady and stronger.

He twists her free arm around and up behind her back, across the first, pinning it with his knee, making quick work of the tie-off, then back over her shoulder and through her other armpit. Matching the first run. He brings the rope to the middle, tying her arms together where they cross. Vertically and horizontally, so she cannot pull out.

He grabs another coil of rope and she feels it hit the floor beside her as he tosses it out. He links the new rope to the old, she can feel him tying extra knots, just for (his) fun later.

And then it’s her feet. She kicks and squirms some more, knowing she has lost the first round, but not wanting to give him too easy a time. He gives up on elegant tying and just wraps the rope around her ankles repeatedly, pulling until she has no more slack to kick. Once immobilized, he takes care to tighten it down with a vertical wrap around the ankle wraps, and then brings the tails back to the splice point to tie off with even more excessive, yet decorative knots.

A small coil comes off his belt and he gathers her hair up into a tight pony tail. Tying it off, he trails the end back to her ankles, through the vertical wrap and down to join the linking knots by her ass.

He steps back, and she rolls her eyes up to look at him, not quite able to regain her earlier glare. He smiled down at the pile of rope and flesh he has created and leans down to kiss her forehead.

“Fifteen minutes, do you think? If not, I’ll just add more rope.”

And he walked to a nearby table to chat with friends while they watched her struggle.

Round Two

“Now for what I want.”

“Yes, Sir.” She gripped the cross legs behind her thighs and grinned back at him.

Crack Snap Crack.

He landed a hit on each nipple and a teasing mid-air snap in front of her nose. She squealed and tensed trying to remain perfectly still. Clenching her hands on the boards lest she reflexively cover herself.

Crack Crack.

Crack Crack.

She let out her breath in a scream when he finished, barely able to keep her hands down, as he laid two lines across each breast. Bright red kisses pointing to her nipples. Mumbling curses as she caught her breath, gazing up at his giddiness.

Crack.

She howled and bounced on one leg as he caught her thigh.

Crack.

He stopped her bouncing with a strike to the other leg.

She gasped and half-glared, half-grinned up at him.

Then she saw the light bulb and he turned to get a different toy.

“Close your eyes.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Her breath quickened as she strained to hear a hint of what he was getting. She could tell where he was, but there were so many toys there, and he was being careful.

She felt him return, closer than before, and he wasted no time.

Thwap!

She yelped as rubber floggers slammed down on her breasts.

Thwap. Thwap.

She groaned into the hits, keeping her eyes closed and her chin up to avoid the falls.

Thwap. Thwap. Thwap!

Left. Right. Both. She gasped and moaned at the hits.

The he picked up a beat. And the rocked together. Single hits per beat. Double. And then triple. Six-count to the beat of the music. She started with a groan, building into a moan and ending with a scream.

He pulled back down. Double and then single hits per beat. Quarter notes on her chest. Pounding out gasps and moans.

“Can… I… Open… My… Eyes… Sir?” She managed between gasps.

His response was to pick up speed again until she screamed and tried to collapse, but there was nowhere to go. Pausing for a moment, he answered.

“Yes.”

“Thank you, Sir.” She managed through ragged gasps, and she opened her eyes to see his glowing face before her. Tears filling her eyes, but her smile matching his.

He returned to simple beats, staring into her eyes now. They moved together, breathed together, energy flowing free and joyful between them.

A new song came on, and he picked up the pace. Not too fast, but fast enough to send her humming into space.

Thwap gasp. Thwap moan. Thwap gasp. Thwap moan.

Into six count, her head fell back, eyes closed, hardly remembering to breathe in as it all came out in a long, moaning growl, fingers digging into the wooden cross.

Thwap!

A downbeat to end the song and she nearly falls, but he is there, hand in her hair, holding her up, kissing her.

“Good girl.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome.” He pulls her off the cross and against his chest.

“I love you, Sir.” She wraps her arms around him.

“I love you, too.” He kisses her forehead and leads her off to blankets and cuddles.

Do You Want It?

“Do you want it?”

“Yes, Sir.” She knelt before him, eyes on his boots.

“Do you really want it?”

“Yes, Sir.” She resisted the urge to look up at him, biting her lower lip to keep still.

“I want you to be sure. There’s no going back. Is this really what you want?”
“Yes, Sir. Please, Sir.” Her heart pounded in her chest.

“Good girl, thank you.” How she loved to hear those words. “Go get it.”

She rose smoothly to her feet, wincing at tingling, but not hesitating. Slipping past him, she went to the trunk and found the single tail. Bringing it back to him, she knelt and held it out to him.

“Good girl.” He took it from her. “Up,” swatted her on the thigh as she rose again, “and over to the cross.” Chasing her with the tip as she went.

She wrapped her arms around the cross and braced her feet slightly apart. He snapped her inner thighs to spread them more. Her heart pounding, she concentrated on breathing slowly. The whip scared her, but she wanted it and so did he.

Crack.

She jumped at the sound by her ear.

Crack.

She twitched the other direction.

He was testing her, teasing her. She tightened her grip on the cross.

Crack.

He laid a line on her shoulder blade. She squealed and almost didn’t jump at the next strike.

Crack.

On her other shoulder. Another squeak of pain.

Crack Crack Crack.

Three strips in quick succession on her ass. She jumped and screamed and held tight to the cross. Gasping for breath.

She could feel his grin behind her.

Crack.

She hopped on one leg.

Crack.

He snapped the other one. She bounced and then resumed position, breathing heavily.

“Is this what you wanted?” He chuckled behind her.

“Yes, Sir. Oh, yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

“Do you want more?”

“Yes, Sir. Please, Sir.”

Crack. Squeal.

Crack. Squeak.

Crack. Growl.

Crack. Scream.

She bounced against the cross, shaking it against the wall. Tears coming to her eyes.

“More?”

“Yes, Sir.” She gasps and settles back against the cross.

Crack. Scream.

Crack. Tears fall.

Crack. Scream.

Crack. Moan.

Sobbing, she clings to the cross.

“More?”

“Please, Sir.”

Crack Crack Crack.

The screams are gone, she cries and moans, deep inside now, letting go, letting it all go.

Crack Crack Crack.

Her body jerks at the hits, tears falling freely, breathing in new air.

Crack Crack Crack.

He rips free another scream, and she falls to her knees, but she is not done. She drags herself back up the cross.

“More?”

“Yes, please, Sir.” Her voice a hoarse whisper, but clear enough.

Crack. Moan.

Crack. Moan.

Crack. A soft sigh of relief as the tears quiet, she collapses against the cross.

His hand on her back, soft touches on stinging flesh make her shiver and smile. He snakes his hand up into her hair and pulls her back for a rough kiss.

“Ready for round two?” He grins and his eyes sparkle.

“Yes, Sir.” She smiles back at him.

He spins her around to face him and presses her up against the cross, kissing her tear stained cheeks before stepping back.

“Now for what I want.”