drown in my pain.
let it fill you up,
breathe it in,
shower in it.
let my pain
feast on it,
drip to it.
come to my screams,
get high on my begging,
explode every time
you say no,
you take more
bathe in my pain,
and fulfill you,
take it all.
fuck yourself deep
with my agony,
caress your clit
with my fear.
see me finished
She is like a starving lioness, craving the kill, desperate for the taste of blood, the sensation of tearing flesh and the sweet stench of terror from her prey. She needs to feed. She longs to devour and feast. She needs to eat. Her hunger so strong that it hurts, consuming her every waking moment and drenching her dreams. It’s the only thing she can think about. She simply has to feel her teeth sinking into soft, terrified flesh. It’s in her very nature, to choke and kill and devour. She has no choice in the matter. It is who she is and it is what makes her so beautiful.
The best thing about her is that she’s coming round later tonight for what she describes as a barbecue. I’m just a little puzzled, as I don’t have a yard, but I’m sure she knows what she’s talking about, and I can’t wait to find out.
i long for your rewards,
i fear your punishment.
your control is total
and obedience guaranteed.
but what will you ask?
how much of me
will you demand?
will you push me to my limits?
will you test your own?
i do not know.
how dark is your imagination?
or how far you will go?
i just know,
i want you to take me there.
you are on top, riding me – its our first time and we fit like a candle and a flame – our orgasms build together and, as they rise, like duel tsunamis so mighty they could tear whole continents apart, you slap me, hard across the face.
i jump in shock and pain at first, and my body jolts, ramming my cock even harder into you. i only get a second to see the pleasure this brings you before you slap me again, with the other hand and harder. my orgasm is poleaxed, although i keep on spurting into you, my prick pulsing harder than ever. your orgasm, though, seems magnified by your power, and you erupt on top of me, and your climax hits you like a huge swarm of desert birds hits the sky when excited by a storm. you call me disgusting names. you spit straight into my face and slap me again and again. then you ball up your fist and raise it up. i can see how much you want to bring it slamming down, just by looking into your eyes. you would bloody my nose, maybe even break it. our eyes lock and i brace myself. i see just how hard you have to work to stop yourself. your eyes burn with a love very few know. the love of giving and taking pain. i see, in your eyes and heart, how hard it is not to punch me with all your force and i know that i love you.
after, we lay together and kiss. your eyes still burn as hot as your pussy and i know that next time you might not be able to hold back. next time you will want more of me. then we kiss and cuddle and you tell me i am a good boy, and that everything will be ok. just as i fall peacefully asleep, you punch me in the balls.
that is when i realise, just how much i love you.
the kisses of your whip
are as sweet
as those from your lips.
the burning of my flesh
feels as good
as the vision of your breasts.
I was sixteen and she was nineteen or maybe twenty. She was a classroom assistant. The assistants were not supposed to administer corporal punishment, but she did. She would take us into the little office behind the classroom, bend us over and cane our asses, up to six times if we had been really bad. Once, after having been given six real stingers, I stood up and she could see by the bulge in my pants that I had a hard on. She had me bend back over and gave me ten more. Afterwards she winked at me and told me that I didn’t have to be naughty, all I had to do was ask nicely.
“I didn’t know you were into horses.” I say as we enter the bedroom and I see the riding crop hung on the door.
“I’m not,” you tell me, “never been on a horse in my life. That’s for you.” You watch me undress and walk round me in slow circles, stroking me gently with the tip of the whip, enjoying my fear, teasing me, drawing out the anticipation of pain and surrender. You thrill to the sound of my whimpering as the crop stings my back and thighs and belly, you giggle at my flinching at each burning strike. You stand close, close enough for me to feel your heat, the gorgeous smell of your pussy wafting into my mind, telling me how hot this makes you. I can feel your erect nipples against my bare back as you whisper in my ear “You know what I want to hear?” I nod and say “Yes. You want to hear me scream.”
“That’s right,” you grin, “I wanna hear you squeal like a stuck pig.” and we both know you will “You know what I want to hear more?” you murmur and I don’t so you tell me. “I want to hear you beg me to stop. I want you to beg knowing that I won’t.” You have me raise my arms over my head so that I can’t protect myself from the rain of biting leather that pours down on my trembling flesh.”Had enough?” you smile sweetly, wiping a tear from my eye and I nod meekly “Then why do you have such an erection?” you giggle, stroking the tip of the riding crop gently down the full length of my twitching member.”Your mouth says ‘no’ but your cock says ‘more’.” You order me to stand perfectly still as you bring the leather down hard on my stiff prick, making it bounce in the cold evening air and drawing a shriek from me and you slip your other hand down between your legs, wetting your swollen clit with the juice from your pussy and slipping your fingers into my mouth before striking my cock again.
“Make yourself come.” you tell me and I grab hold of my cock and begin to stroke it up and down, feeling my orgasm rise quickly through me like jungle fires and as I start to come, you bring the crop down hard on my balls, knocking the air out of me and dropping me to the floor. Pain and pleasure mix as adrenaline and endorphins course through my whole frame, making me dizzy, the two opposing sensations competing in my soul as my body curls up and cum splashes over me.
I am still getting my breath back when you lay back on the bed and push my head between your legs. As the intensity of your orgasm consumes you, so the intensity of the blows on my back and butt grows stronger, my muffled yelps vibrating your whole pussy and giving you an orgasm that shakes your whole body, the cries of your pleasure mixing with mine of pain.
I want to be owned by you
And broken by you,
Give myself to you
And be destroyed by you.
Eat me up and spit me out,
Throw away the key
Do whatever you want with me,
but never set me free
Make me yours,
And make me pay.
My pain, your pleasure
My loss, your treasure
FANNY: I click. There’s a brief pause before the home page climbs, stuttering, into the screen. It looks just like it did six months ago. It would. With one exception, its not been touched since then. It actually feels neglected. Lonely. If that’s possible for a website. Like its haunted, like there are electronic cobwebs in there. I click some of the dust away.
The site, ‘What-Goes-Up dot com,’ was at heart a comical collection of bizarre accidents, a little bit like ‘You’ve Been Framed’ on the telly but not so tasteful and without the fluffy animals, apart from one clip, featuring a puppy and a lawn-mower. ‘A celebration of the spectacularly stupid,’ its owner and creator Max Wormwood had once called it.
One character that ably satisfied both these criteria and who dropped in on the site with frightening regularity, was Osgood Hardbach. Its hard to know, really, how best to describe Osgood. His daughter Tory doesn’t do a bad job.
TORY: Dad has attempted suicide forty-five times. Its an official world record. The TV show ‘Never Mind the Buzz-Saws’ have named an award in honour of him – for ‘persistence in the face of overwhelming stupidity.’ There are three different websites devoted to him, he’s got two fan-clubs and is the inspiration behind a sick computer game. There was even talk of a movie.
It started when he was eight, when he jumped off the garage roof. And, as a child, if he wasn’t trying to swallow stuff from under the sink, he’d be throwing himself off it or trying to drown himself in it. I don’t think he was very happy.
He’s tried fourteen times in public, seven have been videoed. He’s been on the news over twenty times. Two attempts are records in their own right and there have been three copycat deaths attributed to his infame.
He’s only tried to kill himself in front of me twice. Once, he got me to hold the camera while he slit open his throat. They didn’t name any awards for that. I was six. Or discuss making a movie. I was all alone in the house and he just lay there gurgling, and I didn’t even know how to turn the video camera off. That was attempt number twenty, it cost him eighteen months in the loony-bin. It was my worst birthday ever.
an excerpt from my first radio play. the whole thing can be heard here.
“What’s a ‘Cock party’? I ask. You all laugh.
“It’s a girls’ night. We all buy dildos, get shit-faced and fuck around, sword-fight with them, discuss blow job techniques, that kinda thing.”
“Cool, can I come?”
“Fuck off you perv!” you say, “Girls only.”
The vodka is flowing freely, a blanket of skunk smoke floats in the air, your laughs and shrieks fill the room, and you are all merrily sword fighting with your array of multi-coloured dildos, when the wardrobe creeks and you spot that I have been spying on you from in there.
I get dragged out. Some of you seem angry but mostly you think its funny. I’m told to strip and that I can stay, but only if I cock fight all of you. I look a little worried as some of your toys are massive, but the idea of being in on your night is way too alluring and I agree.
At first you are all quite gentle, tapping my erection softly with your hard rubber pricks, but you egg each other on, and you get meaner and start to slap my cock around harder, giggling as I flinch and gasp. Spurred on by the booze and weed and each other, you smack me right in the balls with something that is 15 inches long and as thick as my wrist. I drop to my knees moaning with the pain.
Your shrieks of laughter growing wilder, and I’m told to stand again and someone points out that I’m still stiff and therefore must like it and want some more. Still gasping in pain, I try to protest as I feel an 18 inch, purple double ender slam into my nuts knocking the breath clean out of me and dropping me to the floor. I wonder if any of you realise what a kick I am getting from this.
I’m still barely able to breath and with tears stinging my eyes when I find myself pinned to the floor. Panties are pulled down and a skirt lifted, and one of you sits on my face nearly suffocating me. I am told to lick and I do. I feel lips around my cock, and then tongues licking expertly at my tip, fingers running up and down my length, drawing me nearer and nearer to orgasm. There is whispering and giggles and I hear someone say “wait until he comes.”
I try not to come, but my cock is being kissed and stroked so perfectly that I cannot help it, and as the first wave of my orgasm washes through me, I feel the violent caress of a dildo that could knock a church door off its hinges explode between my legs. My body tries to double up but my legs and arms are being held down and I writhe helplessly. The pain heightens my senses and slows time and the conflicting sensations of pain and pleasure mix intoxicatingly in my blood. My head swims with the intensity of it and my eyes sting as, with each squirt, I am struck harder. You all laugh at my muffled screams of agonizing pleasure, the room spinning as the two extremes collide in my soul, my whole body shot through with fire, like some insane drug rush. My orgasm seems to last for ever as wave after wave of thick white cum is thrown into the air with the beating of bright pink silicone.
Afterwards I sit curled up, shaking uncontrollably and am given a drink and a spliff and a few hugs and a couple of kisses. That’ll teach me not to spy on a girls’ night I’m told. You will not tell me which of you it was that was blowing me or whose ass I was eating. I look over at the wardrobe, to check that the video camera is still recording.
i am a puddle and you are the rain
fill my dripping soul with your tears
i welcome the pain
i am a leaf and you are the tree
shake me and blow me away
ever set me free
i am the match but you are the flame
burn me and devour me
how i long
for that flickering pain
i am the paper and you are the pen
scrawl on me, tear me to shreds
and let me beg
for you to do it again
i am a bird and you are the sky
you engulf me and shatter my wings
it matters not
because you saw me fly
i am the tear and you are the eye
you wipe me away
but just to have been there
i’m happy to die
i am a puddle and you are the rain
fill me until i overflow
but remember me
and how i loved the pain
So there’s this writer cunt, OK? Kyle sumffin’, an’ ‘e’s been saying shit abaht me an’ Micky on the fuckin’ internet, on his gay-arsed blog, the cunt. Obviously this can’t be allowed to stand, you know what I mean?
So, I bells Mickey an’ ‘e’s fuckin’ fumin’, right, gettin’ ‘is tools togevver, chargin’ up ‘is nail gun an’ that, so’s we can go rahnd there and teach the cunt a lesson. Then ‘e says, “‘ang on, why don’t we send the girls in?” Now, that’s a right cuntish suggestion, coz our women are way fuckin’ crueller than we are. I mean, I like to jump up and down on a cunt’s face like the best of ’em, but I like to get in an’ out, quick like, do the damage an’ get back down the pub, less chance of gettin’ nicked that way too, know what I mean?
Any’ow Mickey’s gotta point, this writer cunt needs needs shit explaining to ‘im carefully, an’ ‘oo better to do that than the girls? Likeisay, much meaner than us they are. My Trace fuckin’ revels in it, spend fuckin’ hours working on a cunt, that girl can. Once right, she come ‘ome wiv this bloke’s dick in ‘er bag an’ fed it to the dog. Fuckin’ ‘ell, ‘ow we laughed. Sometimes I fink she gets some kinda sexual kick aht of it, an’ I don’t blame ‘er. I mean, I ain’t ‘ad an ‘ard-on for eight years, not since the ‘eart attack an’ them puttin’ me on these beta blockers like. Well, you can’t blame a girl for wantin’ to get ‘er rocks off nah and then can yer, know what I mean?
So I gives ‘er the writer’s address an’ tells ‘er to take her time but to leave the cunt breavin’. She gets ‘er little blow torch ready and some pliers and some fuse wire an’ bells Shaz, Mickey’s bird. Before she ‘eads off I say “‘Ang on, why dontcha take little Whitney wiv yer?” She’s eleven now and it would be good for ‘er to see ‘ow we do business. I mean, I’m a parent, it would be irresponsible not to take an interest in me kid’s education, know what I mean?
Hang on a sec, I will finish this post in a minute. There are people at the door, two women and a young girl.
Part two of my 200th post challenge: this one’s for Robin who had the naughtiest suggestion.
Most of the inmates of D Wing had imagined that the female guards would be a bit softer than the male guards and give them less of a hard time. Nothing though, could have been further from the truth.
Grown men would shake in their boots when they heard that there would be women guards on night shift. Hardened criminals would weep and pee themselves uncontrollably on discovering that one of the guards would be Robin. Some said she was crazy and heard voices.
“Yes.” she lies to the prison psychiatrist, she has been taking her medication. “No.” she lies again, there have been no more voices.
“No-one is denying that you are a good officer Robin,” the doctor points out, “and prisoner behaviour has certainly improved since you joined us.” Robin casts her mind back to her first shift on D Wing. Some of the inmates had found it entertaining to jerk themselves off in front of the women guards. Most of the women would ignore this or simply place the prisoner on report but Robin had put a stop to it immediately. She had broken the man’s fingers and then demanded that he masturbate in front of her. There was something pathetic she had thought about seeing a man sob and ejaculate at the same time. Afterwards she had told him what she would do if it ever happened again. It never did. Her friend Gabi had laughed like a drain.
She liked working with Gabi, they had a lot in common. Gabi was mostly there for the cock though and she saw to it that she got plenty. There was barely a man on the block that had not fucked her one way or another. Robin was quite partial too to getting fucked at work, but she was mostly there to mete out justice. She had a soft spot for one or two of the men though: Bill was not really a bad guy, just a bit dumb and had fallen in with the wrong crowd, and Joey, who had bludgeoned his wife’s lover to death with a 14 inch, pink dildo, was only really guilty of loving too much, she reckoned. They both had dicks you could knock down a church door with. Gabi didn’t care so much about meting out justice, she just wanted to get fucked. She did like to watch the homophobes suck each other’s cocks though, and they both shared a hatred for the rapists and would devote a lot of their time to ‘educating’ them.
The psychiatrist was saying something about how it had gone too far this time, that there was nothing more she could do, but Robin wasn’t really listening she was listening to the voices in her head, they were making plans for the shift ahead. The doctor was reading from a report, “…then made him flush it down the toilet.” Robin looks up at this, that had been quite a night. “Is this true Robin?”, She did not need an answer, everyone knew it was true. “He is due to be released in a week.” the psychiatrist pointed out, but Robin knew that too, she had his home address, it was only an hour’s drive. His punishment had barely begun. “I don’t know why you are smiling Robin,” the doctor droned on peering disapprovingly over her thick glasses, “we are going to have to let you go.” Robin didn’t care, Gabi would let her in, and without the shackles of officialdom she could really have some fun, really let her hair down. She imagined their faces, the weakening bladders, the ice in their veins, when they realised she was back.
the devil may be
a lot of things
but he’s a damn good fuck.
his cock is cold,
his cum is hot,
his kisses burn
the devil will fuck
and eat you out
until you cannot think,
or speak, or breathe,
or laugh, or cry.
the devil will have
the devil will make
you beg for more,
despite the fact it burns.
his tongue is sharp,
his nails dig deep,
as he feasts upon
the devil will fuck
you all night long.
the devil will make you bleed.
his love will cut
your mind to shreds.
his sex make you
the devil will do
a lot of things
that will surely fuck you up.
you may not live
to tell the tale
your soul he will
YOU chain me to the radiator. leaving a little slack, so that i am not strapped to it but have enough room to stand back by a few inches. you reach over and switch it on. i turn my head and look at you with a little concern in my eyes. you can be a bit naughty sometimes, i know, but this is cruel. “keep facing front.” you tell me and run the horse whip softly down my back, not hitting me with it, just reminding me of what you could do, if you wanted. I turn back to the wall, feeling the white metal pipes heating up. “this could really hurt.” i point out, as if you didn’t know, “that thing can get damn hot.” i say, the fear evident in my voice.
“you’ll be fine.” you tell me calmly, “as long as you don’t get an erection.”
I hear the rustle of cotton and silk and know you are undressing. you reach over my shoulder, showing me your tiny satin red panties, before dropping them on the floor in front of me. “demonstrate some self control.” you whisper to me, sensing my fledgeling erection. i can hear you smile. i feel myself growing, lengthening and thickening, twitching gently. i try to think of something else rather than you stood behind me, naked. I can feel how close you are.
YOUR breath starts to quicken and deepen and i try not to listen, try not to get any harder but its no good. my cock starts to gradually inch its way towards the heat and the pain. you moan gently, knowing how the sounds of your enjoyment arouse me. i can feel your hot breath on the back of my neck. I feel your eyes glinting and know you are watching me grow and get nearer to the heat.
I feel your fingers stroke gently down my back and your moans of pleasure grow louder and hungrier. something deep pulsates in me as i realise i can hear the soft lapping of you touching yourself and my cock bounces lightly against the hot steel, making me yelp slightly. “shhh.” you tell me, stepping back.
“but that hurt.” i protest. the bite of the whip across my back is not harsh but makes me jump and i brush against the radiator once more. you giggle and bite your lip. “demonstrate some self control then.” you say softly, and “shhhh. no more words. no more sounds. hold it in. feel it.” you reach across and turn the heat up to full, and i briefly see your smile and the mischief in you eyes.
I feel myself tap lightly on the hot pipes, trying not to cry out, feeling the pain electrify my soul, sharpening my senses. you moan louder and deeper, telling me in detail what you are doing to yourself, standing right behind me again. “you want to turn me on, my love? well know that you are.” when you start to caress my lips with your slender wet fingers, slipping them into my adoring mouth, i know i will get fully erect and be unable to stop it. i panic and use the safety word. there is silence. i tense up, expecting the whip. i say it again. “why do you say that?” you ask sounding genuinely puzzled.
“the safety word.” i explain, my erection now brushing against the burning metal.
“that was last night’s safety word, my darling.” you say in your sweetest voice.
“well what’s tonight’s?” i quiver, looking round at you. You step back and i feel the sharp sting of leather land hard on my back. Then another and another, each one meaner the the last.
“there isn’t one my sweetheart.” you giggle in a voice like thick cream, “why would there be? I’m not doing anything to you. you are doing that to yourself. if you want to hurt yourself for my pleasure honey, who am i to complain? if you don’t like it, i told you, exercise some self control.”
YOUR moans and gasps grow louder, and i can feel the approach of your orgasm in the heat of your breath, your nipples, erect, brush against the stinging of my back and i can feel your eyes on my cock as it presses up against the cruel heat. my eyes sting with it and my head swims dizzily. my cries of pain mingle with yours of bliss and fill the room.
I realise the sounds we make when in pain are indistinguishable from those we make when in the throws of ecstasy. i think i am going to pass out. when you unchain me, spin me round and say three words “now, fuck me”
we toss a coin. it lands heads up: me then. you look at me and smile and using silk scarves, you tie me, outstretched, by my wrists and ankles to the four bedposts of our massive bed – careful not tie me tightly but so that there is no way i could free myself. there is fire in your eyes tonight
at first you are gentle with me, covering me with kisses, telling me you love me, whispering it. then you mount me, dropping slowly and deeply onto me, groaning, your eyes closed, your head back. we flow into each other with purring, animal ryhthm. i yearn to touch your breasts but cannot and you laugh at me and touch them yourself. you feel me so well that you can stop nanoseconds before i reach the point of no return – and you do. you grin and shake your head when i beg you not to stop, to please please go on. you climb off me and bend down over me, kiss me and stare deep into my eyes.
the sparkle in your eye seems brighter tonight than normal, hotter somehow. i can see something wild in you. i sense mischief. you take my lower lip between you teeth playfully, your eyes fixed on mine. I shudder a little and you slide down me, kisses falling on my neck, my upper arms, my chest like a spring shower.
i feel some of the kisses become tiny little bites, not painful but sweet, but each one slightly sharper than the previous one – until one on my left bicep draws a sharp intake of breath from me. you look up at me “you felt that” you smile, breathing me a kiss. i look back, a little surprised. underneath you i press against your belly, you can feel that i am still excited, maybe even more excited. ‘no reason to stop yet’ it makes you think.
you giggle and nip my other arm and my chest, twice, and as before, each one is slightly harder than its predecssor. i emmit tiny little yelps with each one. “careful now honey, not too hard” you hear me say as you slide down my chest to my stomach. ‘his mouth tells me stop’ you think ‘but his hard-on says something else.’ under your breasts i wrestle and pulsate. you intensify your biting shower turning it from rain into a light hail, feeling me wriggle helplessly under you. i laugh, but i ask you to take it easy too. you don’t stop, you sink lower. “hey c’monl, enough’s enough eh?” i plead, a quiver in my voice and you look up at me, your eyes burning like cinders.
i pull at my bonds trying to free myself and realise it is utterly useless. you watch me, silently, laughing at my helplessness. growing wetter at my realisation of it. you find yourself wondering just how far you would go. you find the answer deep within yourself and it shocks and thrills and scares you – the answer is you don’t know. the sense of power intoxicates you and your head spins, your loin pounds with distant drumbeats and wild primative ideas dance through your mind singing in languages you don’t quite understand.
you look down at my cock, it is still hard, still throbbing, only inches from your mouth. You watch it for a long time before looking back at me. “do you know what i’m going to do to you now?” you ask. i don’t, so you tell me. i laugh, like it was a joke, but your eyes don’t laugh back they just smoulder lustfully
“p-please?” i beg “no!”
“i’ll tell you what,” you say “I’ll give you a chance.” i watch you haul yourself up so you are kneeling, astride me, towering over me. you take the coin from the bedside table. “heads: we stop now,” you say, “i untie you, we kiss, we cuddle, we make love, whatever. tails on the other hand…” you say nothing, you just look down at my desperate hard-on and back at me. i plead again but the coin is in the air, spinning, slowly – it seems as though time slows down as it carves its fateful, tumbling arc and lands coldly on my lower belly. i strain my head to see which way it has landed but cannot. you can though. you look at it, then at me, and smile.
I want to hurt for you and burn for you
Break my heart and my bones in two
Feast on me but don’t care for me
Make me prove my love is true
I want to fry for you and die for you
And please you with my pain
Destroy my mind and stab my heart
Then leave me naked in the rain