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.