Medical Masturbation

Rob had signed up for a medical study on human sexuality. It didn’t sound too onerous at all. Spend a week staying in a medical research ward being looked after, fed and wanking occasionally. Best of all he would be paid for the privilege.

He arrived at the hospital early one morning. The nurse on duty at the reception desk was a pretty little blonde thing. Rob smiled at her warmly, he had no doubt that she would figure in his wanking fantasies that week. She gave him several forms to fill out, medical questionnaires and a consent form. He didn’t read too closely, merely signing and returning them with a flirtatious grin.
Then he was told to sit and wait for a while, until he was be called in to see the doctor running the study. Continue reading “Medical Masturbation”

Earning On His Own

A sequel to: Earning His Domme’s Approval and Earning So Much More

When his Domme arrived at his door he was not surprised. He got into the car both relaxed and apprehensive, he was hers to use, to whore, after all.
When she turned off the usual road he was startled.
“Where are we going?” he forgot himself so far as to ask.
She looked round for a moment, disapproving, but she did not answer him.
He subsided into shamed silence.

They pulled up at the railway station. She pulled into the pickup zone and stopped the engine.
“Wait here”, she got out and went into the ticket office leaving the so familiar music playing in the car. When she returned she walked to the passenger door and opened it.
“Get out”, she instructed him.
He did as he was asked, not too hesitantly.
His Domme held out a ticket to him.
“Here’s your ticket. You will be met at the other end by a man who will say ‘your Domme sent you’, go with him and provide him with whatever service he requires. Your mouth and your ass are his to use today. I will meet you from the train when you return.”
For a moment he looked blankly at her, confused, before swallowing hard.
“Yes, Mistress”, he would obey her in all things as usual. Continue reading “Earning On His Own”

Writing About My Characters

I was writing a fantasy, one I intended for eventual publication here and I was getting increasingly turned on by the scenario I was describing.

Then as I was contemplating my writing I realised something about the way I write fantasies.

When I’m writing, my characters are real to me. It feels as though they have a separate existence which I have a window on. My writing forces them to live through those experiences and I not only control what happens to them I also control how they feel about it.

As I go over a scene, refining my mental image of it, they can be forced to live though it several different ways until I have found the most satisfactory outcome (interestingly the beginning of the ‘Story of O‘ effectively uses this as an opening gambit). Often the final outcome depends on how the characters behave in my mind. Their reactions influence my writing (I said they were real to me).

In many ways this is the ultimate Domme trip. I can torture them or delight them again and again. I can abuse them, humiliate them and force them to willingly do anything I wish.
Best of all I can get just the reaction I want. I can make them love it or hate it or better still desire it with a mingling of shame and embarrassment that puts them firmly in their place.

My characters are my bitches and I get off on playing with them.
No wonder I can’t stop writing.

Sonnet Of Dreams

At night I let my mind take me to places I want to be, here is a little taste of where I sometimes go.

Sonnet III – Dreams

So lay me down, alone and in my bed,
Far from your side, yet closest now to thee.
Eluding me, sleep circles round my head
And weaves a web of dreams, of what might be.
Vows spoken once, in jest perhaps, I take,
Now hold them to my heart in jealous trust.
Each word of love believe in for love’s sake,
Till breath is gone and body turned to dust.
Restful my eyes are closed, my heart aflame,
As thoughts of love soothe wounds that day made sore.
I drift to sleep now whispering your name,
Secreted in my heart for evermore.
Now dream I thus our hearts always entwine,
Yet will I know the truth of this in time?

© Caitlin 2013

The Will Of The Goddess

He was a slave. Kept in the temple pens his duties were light, his life simple. Then he had been dragged aside by the slave mistress, locked in a cage and left for two days and nights with nothing but a bowl of water. He had begged for food but she had said he would be fed “when it pleased the Goddess”.

Then two women in white robes came for him. They pulled him out, stripped his tunic from him and took him to a wash room and watched while he cleansed himself under their instructions. When they were satisfied they fastened his wrists and led him away. Continue reading “The Will Of The Goddess”

The Five Part Hangover Cure

I awoke feeling dreadful. In fairness I wasn’t so much hung over as still slightly drunk. I didn’t really have much of a headache but my day at work was clearly going to be a challenge.

Inevitably I wanted my usual hangover cure.


Perrin got up and made me this before I went to work. Thus fortified I made it out of the house albeit shakily.


I’d grabbed a couple of tablets before leaving the house and gratefully dropped them in a glass of water when I got to work.

Orange Juice

I had clementines to eat at work and a fizzy vitamin C tablet which went into the mix with the painkillers. Sitting at my desk I downed the mixture and began to feel better.


Mid-morning I wandered out to the rather dodgy burger van across the road. Supplied thus with both fresh air and a well stuffed bacon roll I returned to my office. While I sat munching at my desk I decided I might as well attempt to complete the cure while still at work.


My trusty Lelo was to hand as usual so I headed off to the toilets for a few moments of privacy. Leaning back against the wall I allowed my mind to wander…

I was out with Mat at a play party somewhere. I tied him to a bench. He was naked, bent over, legs spread. His head hung down slightly over the far end. Arms and legs fastened in place, he couldn’t move.

I got out my sharpies and began to write.
“Fuck me” I began across his bottom. People wandering by looked, read and paused.
I moved on to his back, “I’m a slut and a whore”, “Use me”, “Spunk on me”, “Make me suck you”, “Fuck my face and my cunt”, “Enjoy me”, “Abuse me”.

I moved back to sit down nearby. I watched as people moved forward to read what had been written, to run their fingers over his naked flesh, over the words inscribed there. I watched as a man unzipped his trousers and forced his cock into my boy’s mouth. A Domme in a strap on moved in to take him from behind. Around him were a crowd of people, men and women, wanking, watching, waiting their turn.

…I saw my Boy used and abused and I came.
Eyes opened slowly, reality returned. I went back to my desk with a smile and feeling so much better.

No Need To Cum

Nic from ‘Arsenic and Old Lace’ recently wrote about her difficulty orgasming and bemoaning the tendency of erotica to portray the simultaneous orgasm with unreasonable regularity. I’m certainly often guilty of that too, a fact I realised some time ago when I came to realise that my own sexual activity often ends perfectly happily, without guilt or frustration, but most importantly without orgasm. So I set myself the task then to write a piece that reflects that and finally, prompted by these thoughts, I’ve completed it.

“Come here”, he swept her swiftly into his arms and held her tight. She tilted her head back and kissed him.

His hands roamed over her skin as she pressed closely against him. She felt his erection pressing against her and moved a hand down to stroke it gently.
With a smiling shared glance they moved to the bed. They lay down and shared a kiss, pressing the length of their bodies together as they did so.

With a sudden urgency she pushed her hands against his shoulders pushing him down onto his back. She straddled him quickly and sank down onto him sighing with satisfaction as his cock drove deep into her. She rocked back and forwards her hips tilting with their own natural rhythm. She threw her arms out for balance as she moved, moaning softly at the pleasure she felt.

With a cheeky smile she dismounted, now rolling on to her back alongside him. His hand came up to stroke her face gently before he pulled himself up. His body arched over hers and she shivered at the promise of it.

With deft hands he pulled her gently towards the centre of the bed, raising her legs and positioning himself behind her thighs. She moaned again as he entered her, her hands reached up to caress him as he thrust slowly and deeply into her.

His rhythm changed, becoming more urgent and her cries grew louder as the force of his lovemaking increased. Together their bodies thrust together with increasing urgency. Eventually he paused. A moment of stillness. She caught her breath underneath him.

A shift in position. Pillows moved, legs grasped. She gasped as he plunged in yet again. He continued his motion until she was breathless, voiceless and wide eyed.

“You’ve had enough” he smiled. She didn’t contradict him, she could barely move. She smiled back in delight.
“Rest now” she assured him.
He moved aside to let her legs drop and to stretch himself beside her. She held out her arms and he wrapped himself closely around her.
“Thank you my love” she whispered.
He held her close as they began to doze together.