Flash Fiction Friday Spanks!


Jake woke up to the feel of hands on his body. He’d fallen asleep on the couch, and at first thought that it was Stella. As he opened his eyes, he found four of his burliest friends each grabbing a limb. “What’s going on?”

“Turn him over,” Stella said.

Jake tried to struggle, not knowing what was happening. He felt Stella’s hand on his crotch, and to his panic, felt the zip being pulled. Then his boxers. Before he could move or speak, he was pinned to the floor over a cushion. His ass was up in the air, cock and balls on display between his legs. He felt his skin flush with embarrassment. “What are you doing?”

“Why, it’s your birthday, and I wanted to spank you. I knew I couldn’t do it alone, so I asked for a bit of help.” Stella smiled and held up the flat backed hair brush he’d used on her a few months earlier.

“Oh damn.” He knew he was in trouble. He thought of what he’d done to Stella on her birthday and wondered just how far she’d go.

“One!” The first swat hit his ass. The sting was sharp. It stole his breath, and all he could manage was a gasp.

“Two!” This one landed on the other cheek. Stella was building up a rhythm, and counting as she went. He tried to wriggle away, but it was no good.

“Twenty-five, twenty-six.” His ass was on fire. Each stroke arched him in a mix of pleasure and pain. To his amazement, his cock was swelling, and his balls ached.

“Thirty-two, thirty three! Happy Birthday, Jake!” The last one across both cheeks made him see stars. The hands let loose of him, and by the time he stood up, they were gone. Jake leaned against the wall hand on ass, jeans on the floor, trying to catch his breath.

“You know, this isn’t over.” Stella was beside him, hairbrush in hand. “I will not have you wasting a perfectly good erection today.” She shook her finger at him as she spoke.

“No Ma’am.” His cock twitched. Pre-cum purled at the end.

They headed to the bedroom, where five minutes later, they were both in bed in a 69. Each time he licked her pussy, she spanked his tender ass until Jake came hard enough to nearly drown Stella.


Ah, birthday spankings. :) So much fun. Our dear muse wrote this:

It’s my birthday this week so this is all about the birthday spankings. Perhaps, like me, you don’t mind them, going as far to enjoy them. Perhaps you dislike them, tell us a story

Key Words: Birthday

Forbidden Words: leather, cry

Word Limit: 396 words (the number of months I’ve been alive!)

Extra Credit: tell us about a birthday spanking

Bonus Words: +24 words for every additional spanker or victim

Hope you like my D/s twist. :) I know I’m late, but Thanksgiving dinner rolled me. :) Too much good food. Now I’m going to finish my tea, grab Wolf and crawl back into bed! :) {yes, use your imagination!}   Oh, and Happy Birthday, John!


Life has been crazy around here. It’s difficult to get use to being my parent’s caregiver. I can’t seem to catch my breath. I haven’t had time to read or to write. This evening, I was trying to catch up on all the blogs I follow, and read about the death of a dear Gentleman, a fellow blogger. David, of A View from the Top, died a few weeks ago. 

I read his blog, exchanged conversational bits via email and comments. I looked forward to the latest posts, and his stories. Now he is gone. As I read Monkey’s blog, I had a poem thump me. One that pops up from time to time. My thoughts and prayers go out to her, and I hope that somewhere, under a sunny sky, he’s writing and figuring out how to post them. 

W. H. Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Flash Fiction Friday Hide or…


Jill had the jeans around her knees when she heard a sound. The urge to hide was strong. She looked down the hall. The DMX lighting threw weird shadows across an abandoned pushchair. She listened again for the sound.


Jill pulled the jeans up. They were too big, so she held them up with her hand. The Kinky Fuckery Club picked Statues for this party. If you didn’t stop and freeze in time, you lost an item of clothing. Jill had been caught 5 times in less than ten minutes. The goal was to make it ‘home’. First one there got to choose who they fucked. Jill didn’t think she’d make it, and thought of getting fucked turned her on.

“Come out, come out, where ever you are!”

Jill froze. The voice was too close for comfort. It sounded like Dirk. She tried to look around with her peripheral vision. Nothing. She moved, and caught her feet in the jeans and went sprawling. Laughter rang out. Off to her left, stood Dirk.

“Damn!”she thought.

Dirk walked over, picked her up shook her out of the jeans. “Nice try. Betsy’s the only one unaccounted for, so you just may be the piece of choice tonight.” He grabbed her nipple and walked off.

“Look what I found!” Dirk smiled. Most of the guys were standing there, cocks hard and ready. Jill noticed that two of the girls were smiling, and clinging to ‘Home’. Betsy was still missing. Dirk ran his fingers down the crack of Jill’s ass and slid them into her pussy.

“Wait! What about Betsy?”

“Maybe she got away. Meanwhile, I’m gonna warm you up.” Dirk fingered her until her juices ran and her pussy shivered. She could feel the orgasm building when Matt came around the corner with Betsy in tow. Dirk stopped and walked towards Matt. Jill was disappointed. All wound up and no orgasm.

“Come here, and we’ll help you,” the two girls behind her said with a smile.


Someday, I will get time to write. I still have not gotten my schedule in order. Sigh.. Sorry I’m late. This was an odd pic, and I really wanted to write a longer story, but… alas, there was a word limit and she wasn’t doing the searching.

So, I hope you enjoy our prompt from John, our FFF guru. Check out his blog here for the prompts. This week our challenge was:

This is a picture from our founder and owner-in-absentia,Advisor.

Key Words: Hide OR seek

Forbidden Words: any word that can be a colour

Word Limit: 333 words

Extra Credit: ever played nudey hide and seek?

Bonus Words: +100 words if she’s doing the searching

Flash Fiction Friday Salute!


“What’s your best pussy memory?”

“Sweet Amy on her back, ankles on my shoulders and crying out as she came, squirting juices everywhere,” said Sam.

The men laughed or smiled. Each had their stories, their connections home. They lived on stories. The seven of them were old hands now. They’d survived IED’s, bad food, and the nasty extremes of weather.

“And you?”

“Ah, the Dunstun twins. One pinned on my cock, the other sitting on my face. Kept me up all night.” Rob smiled.

“How long since you talked to your wife?” Ned asked Charles.

“Too damn long. I dream of her and wake up stiff.”

“We all do mate!” Laughter again filled the tent.

“We all have girls back in England, right?” asked Paul. A cheeky smiled danced across his face.

“Yes,” many of them said.

“Well, how about we send them a pic?” Paul held up his mobile.

“Of what? Us wanking off?” asked Charles.

“No! Just us.”

“What?” asked Ned, trying to figure out Paul’s thoughts. He was the prankster of the squad.

“Just us. We can stop between the tents on the way to the showers.”

“How are we going to pull that off?” asked Ned.

“Easy. We walk to the shower tent in our towels and flip flops. Stop between the tents, drop the towels and take the pic.” Paul figured he’d thought of everything.

“What about the regulation that we take our rifles with us everywhere, including the showers?” asked Sam.

Paul looked puzzled. Then the smile crossed his face. “Got it! We’ll sling our rifles down across our balls and no one can complain.”

“Oh yeah, pure sexy that,” Charles said with a laugh.

“At least you’ve got a decent tattoo,” added Rob. Charles nodded. He’d gotten the tattoo after his last deployment.

Twenty minutes later, the men walked to the showers. As soon as they got between the tents, the towels came off, rifles slung low and Paul took the picture. Then he and Sam swapped places. They were ‘dressed’ and heading for the showers a minute later. Afterwards, they took turns sending the pic to their sweeties.

Charles was last. “Dear Lisa, Just wanted to let you know that all is well. Just a pic to remind you of us. Love Charles.

Lisa’s mobile pinged. She checked and saw a message from Charles. Opening it up, she smiled at the picture.


Not the easiest prompt to write with, but I managed. Rather tired, and it is so cold tonight! -16C! Hope you like my story. Our challenge this week was:

Key Words: Flip flops, tattoo

Forbidden Words: gun, weapon

Word Limit: 400 words

Extra Credit: who did you last salute?

Birthday Delights

No, not a story, but a little slice of life. :) Yesterday was my birthday. I got breakfast in bed. We worked around the house a bit and then Wolf took me out to lunch. Later out to dinner. It was a lovely day. Not sexy, not overtly passionate, but lots of cuddles. Lots of love and caring. 

And now it’s Snowing…. 


Twisted Delights (5)

Yes, its been a while. In case you’ve forgotten this story, start here.

“Really James, you must find your signature look.” Marta said as they lay in bed. Each was sore from the passionate but rough play that they indulged in the night before. He rolled over and pulled her into his arms.

“It goes against all of my work. My job is to not exist, until suddenly I do.” James had worked on his ghostly abilities and was rather proud of his ability to suddenly appear in the enemy’s back pocket.

“Well, if you can strike terror into your men by smelling of Pears Soap and sweaty uniforms, you are much better than I.”

James laughed. Marta wore a unique perfume. His cock swelled at the smell of it, and while he understood what she wanted him to do, he was reluctant. For most of his work, he had spent many years blending in. In the Middle East, he wore clothing from the local markets and drank coffee until it seemed to come out of his pores. In England, he did smell of Pears Soap, bought his clothes from his tailor on Saville Row when he wasn’t in uniform. “What would you suggest?”

Marta smiled. She’d been waiting for this. “Let us clean up and then go shopping. We have all day don’t we?”

“Yes. Just promise me that you won’t dress me in purple and feathers.”

“Never. Not after the first time. My ass still stings at the thought of the lashing you gave me after that little adventure.”

They were up and dressed in less than an hour, and headed for London’s shopping district. They visited his tailor, shoemaker and then Taylors on Bond Street. Marta picked through various scents until she handed him a bottle.

“Try this one.”

James smelled it. It was subtle and yet had a citrus tang. He daubed a bit on his wrist and waited a moment. The scent mixed well with his body chemistry. “Victorian Lime, eh?”

Marta smiled. “Yes. Wear it and your enemies will shit when they smell it, and know that you are on their trail.”

James laughed, and bought the cologne and other body products with the same scent. When they got home, he dressed in the clothing that they’d purchased. Looking in the mirror, he was pleased with what he saw. The khaki trousers echoed his uniform. The Oxford cloth shirt and subdued Loden green tweed jacket rounded out the look. He smiled. His new look was a mixture of Old Etonian and military strength.

James moved up in rank, and became the head of the PsyWar division of the SAS. His work was of the highest degree, and his men became known as Duncan’s Hounds. There was no escape for a spy or operative once the Hounds were on their trail. His kinky past time melded into one of the tools he learned to break or make an operative. While WWII was over, the Cold War was in full bloom. Working with the Yanks in Europe was a specialty as well. Their program for toughening up officers, SERE-Survival, Evasion Resistance and Escape training, worked for some operations, but not for all. That’s where Lt. Colonel, James Howard Duncan and his SAS squadron came into play.

James had turned his estate at Burleigh into a training ground. It was dual purpose, in that during the week, the grounds were overrun by various elite groups from NATO nations. Kinksters on weekends ran through the halls naked. With the help of Marta, and Nanny Alice’s niece Betsy, they kept the two groups separate. For the military members, there were areas that were off limits. Much to James’ sense of humor, Betsy had designated them as ‘family areas’. Meanwhile, on weekends, the whole of the estate was open to the kink crowd.

James stood on the wide balcony from which he could see the formal gardens. He heard the butler bring the tea tray and set it down on the table. “Thank you Geoff.”

The butler gave a slight bow and turned to go back into the house. James sat, poured tea and waited. He’d had a frantic call from Declan the night before. Now he was waiting for his friend to arrive. He was on his second cup of tea when the butler showed Declan where James waited. Declan sat down, took a cup of tea and sighed.

“Whatever is the matter?”

“James, I… I am in love, and yet…” He paused.

“Are you afraid she won’t like the club? Or does she work at the club?”

“The first. I never knew that I’d ever end up with such a natured. Now I’m in love and I want to tie her up, whip her ass until she has sweet juices dripping down her thighs and cries out to be fucked.”

James smiled. He’d been rather surprised that Declan had turned out to be so affected by the club. While Mark had been ashamed and never returned, Declan became a member of the club two weeks later. Gregory was a regular when in London, but that was happening less and less as his family grew. Apparently, his wife kept him busy and happy. “What do you want me to do?”

Declan blushed. “I want you to check her out. See if she’d be open to… to my tastes. I can’t see running two lives like Gregory does.”

James thought for a moment. “Tell me more.”

By the time that the tea was gone, the two men had settled on a plan.

Flash Fiction Friday Wanker!


“He said what?”

“Max asked me if I wanted to hold his pocket rocket while we were at the bonfire watching the fireworks.”

Marion rolled her eyes. “Just how juvenile can they get?”

“Pretty bad really. After I ignored that daft remark, he asked if I wanted to meet his throbbing member of Parliament!”

Claire just shook with laughter. “Do they think that really turns us on?”

“I think so. Apparently there’s a whole song about things to call it. Pet Names for Genitalia by Tom Green.*

“And I thought it was bad reading D.H. Laurence’s book where the gardener talks about his cock by calling it John Thomas.” Claire stretched out on the bed and looked at Marion as they talked.

“Have you ever noticed there isn’t a similar list for women?”

“Yes, and some of them are just nasty.”

Marion nodded in agreement, and then rolled towards Claire. The two of them began to touch and explore one another’s naked body. Deep tongue heavy kisses changed to nips and licks. As Claire straddled Marion, she lowered her mouth to kiss the sweet smelling pussy. Claire ground her tongue against Marion’s clit.

Marion moaned and repaid the favor by licking and fingering Claire until she cried out as she came. The two of them entwined arms and legs in a ball of mutual pleasure. One of them grabbed the vibrator from the nightstand and soon the buzzing of the toy mingled with cries of delight. The vibrator hummed quietly between Marion’s thighs. “Who needs a guy with all those cheesy lines when you have a B.O.B.**?”


Well, done before noon on Friday! Whee! This one was a bit of a giggle. All I could think of was the Tom Green song. :) Our challenge for the day was:

Key Words: Throbbing member, rocket

Forbidden Words: Love truncheon, gloryhole

Word Limit: 269 words

Bonus Words: An extra 69 if you can write it without giggling.

Extra Credit: What’s the cheesiest line anyone’s ever used on you, in all seriousness, in the bedroom?

I probably could have taken the bonus words, but decided not to. As for the cheesiest line ever? Ummm… “That’s why they call it a blow job.” said the man who blew on my pussy instead of licking it!

**Battery Operated Boyfriend.