wl-authors-julie.blogspot.com
Julie's Writings: Convinced
http://wl-authors-julie.blogspot.com/2011/10/convinced.html
He is not going to stop. At least while I can still stand it. Panic sets in, "STOP! What happens past this point? Past the point that I can't take anymore? I struggle and yell. He can't feel how much it hurts, he doesn't know he needs to stop. And he's not, no matter what I do, I know. With that knowledge, I stop my fight. My body goes limp. I wait to see what happens past the bearable. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). I would love to hear from you. I can be reached at:. WL Authors' Home Page.
jo-wl.blogspot.com
Jo's Page: October 2013
http://jo-wl.blogspot.com/2013_10_01_archive.html
WARNING WARNING, WARNING. BDSM This is not for the faint of heart. Thanks Dizzy for giving me the courage to post. Only spell and Grammar checked. Amy mistakes are all mine. Sonny had mentioned building a dungeon at home, but Eric has raised an eyebrow. “I don’t need a dungeon to make you fly,” he stated. Then proved his statement several time over the next month, until the next Beat and Greet. People still talked about the scene played out that night. 8220;You mean you have an out when you get spanked?
tearoomdrabbles.blogspot.com
The Tea Room Annex: It's Not My Fault Challenge
http://tearoomdrabbles.blogspot.com/2010/06/its-not-my-fault-challenge.html
The Tea Room Annex. This page contains adult short fiction about people in domestic discipline relationships. These challenge drabbles and short stories are for readers who are 21 and over. Friday, June 18, 2010. It's Not My Fault Challenge. The Cat, the Mother and the (lack of) Wardrobe. Too Hot for Comfort. It's not my fault.". It wasn’t my fault. Mr McGregor the Top. No More Pets Allowed. Parades, Bikes and Brats. The Tub Runneth Over. Whose Fault Was It? Whose Fault Was It? Whose Fault Was It?
lou-wl.blogspot.com
Lou's Stories: Impromptu Self
http://lou-wl.blogspot.com/2014/02/impromptu-self.html
Are going to do this, I need to know. I need to know before I lay myself so bare. Do you love my mid-week self? My every day self? The rumpled clothes. The thump of my handbag, filled with work, on the dining table. Bra-shedding contortions under my shirt at the front door. Well, that one does make you smile. Ankles swollen and hands flecked with ink marks from my twiddled pen. Can you spank me when I need it, not just shower fresh and legs shaved in curated moments? Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom).
lou-wl.blogspot.com
Lou's Stories: Mardi Gras
http://lou-wl.blogspot.com/2011/10/mardi-gras.html
It wasn't my fault. If we are late, it's your doing.". We can't even see the parade from here" I complained, "Why even bother coming if you can't see a damn thing! Hands on my waist steadily pushed me forward in the available space until I reluctantly had to admit the view was not quite as limited as I may have made out. Whistling loudly at the group marching past, competing music and shouting ringing in my ears, I barely caught the words but felt the teasing hands digging at my ribs. WL Authors Home Page.
lou-wl.blogspot.com
Lou's Stories: Thirteen Stops
http://lou-wl.blogspot.com/2011/10/thirteen-stops.html
Heya, love. I'm going to be a bit late. The seminar ran over and Dave,. Shelley and I had a quick drink after.". The cool push of air through the underground signalled the imminent arrival. That's okay. I'll just add it to everything else.". A shove from behind sent me stumbling towards the door. "Hang on a sec.". Securing a spot by the door – prime real estate for the peak-hour also-rans. Who missed a seat – I swapped the phone to my right side and dropped my bag. Now What was that? You, you see? Sorry,...
lou-wl.blogspot.com
Lou's Stories: Off
http://lou-wl.blogspot.com/2011/10/off.html
Written for the Loving Swats May 2011 Breakfast in Bed Drabble Challenge. Sitting on the table, Tim cast an appraising eye over Rob's form as he slid eggs from the pan. Rob gestured for Tim to shift. "Off. You want to take this back to bed? Nope Just you.". Discarding his plate on the bench, Rob walked over to stand between Tim's knees, claiming a kiss, pushing him backwards as he did so. Hand pressed to his face, Rob pointed at Tim's jeans. "Off. Bed.". Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Not My Fault 1.
