January 19, 2012
Posted in Uncategorized at 11:02 pm by littlesubmissions
Dear reader who found my blog by searching for watch her cunt open as they pulled the the huge inflated teatherball: I hope that you were able to find enjoyment in at least some of my writings. Because damn, that is a very specific search.
-Vague
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January 6, 2012
Posted in Uncategorized at 2:34 am by littlesubmissions
Ah, fuck it…
I’m doing this because of Twin Peaks. If anyone remembers how that series ended, this is my attempt to not be that guy (by which I mean, the guy who cancelled Twin Peaks with a cliffhanger ending). And the guy who made a subsequent movie that didn’t really resolve any of the loose plot threads. But mostly the first guy.
I hate that guy.
“You’re sure?” She pulled the box back, tight against her chest, grinning at his scowl.
“Yes, damnit.” His fingers itched, and he rubbed the tips together, trying to drive away the sensation. “I just want to know what it is.”
He hadn’t had an orgasm for awhile. Waking up hard next to her, flirting grins, hot showers. It was getting on his nerves, and her reminders that it would be easier on him the longer it had been since he had come were met with exasperated sighs.
It had occurred to him that there might not be anything in the box, that it was just her way of getting him to torture himself. That had been enjoyable for awhile, the mind game twisting inside him and making his cock twitch. Then that had gotten old as well.
Now, he just wanted to get the torture over with, to finally find out what was inside.
She handed the box back, grinning, keeping her face calm. Wondering how the next few minutes would play out. The odd sensation of fear and lust when she tried something new, that she wasn’t sure how he would react to. The opening up of herself to the possibility of rejection, and the chance of acceptance, one more thing to bring them together.
He pulled the lid off, took crinkled paper out and piled it carefully beside him. “Hope it’s not another butt plug, I ran out of butthole’s three plugs ago…” He mumbled for his own benefit. Words keeping out thoughts.
He held the black cloth up, a swath of dark material in a plastic bag. “A mask?” He flipped it over, looked at more carefully. “A hood?” He spoke carefully, watching her closely, not sure of the consequences of his words, not wanting to disappoint her or hurt her feelings. “I’m not sure I understand.”
Her voice dropped an octave. “Oh, not just any mask.” She hoped her quicker breathing looked like lust, and not uncertainty. “There’s no holes in it, it will cover your entire head and face. And most importantly…”
She paused, remembering how she had rehearsed this so many times in the car, driving to and from work. How it had made her cunt twitch. Now, watching him, she only felt her stomach churning. “Only you can put it on, and only you can take it off. But when you do, you’re not a person anymore. You’re a thing, and I can do whatever fucked up shit I want to do to a thing. You’ll have to trust me not to cross any lines, but believe me when I say, there are some monumentally fucked up things I want to do that I could never to do you.”
“But I’ll do them to a thing.” Her mouth dried out, she swallowed hard, and waited for him to say or do something.
He opened and closed his mouth, tried to figure out what to say. Then he ripped open the plastic on the bag, and started to slip the black cloth over his face, disappearing, becoming a thing, and trying not to anticipate what would happen next.
Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.
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November 13, 2011
Posted in stories tagged stories at 9:52 pm by littlesubmissions
“We said we weren’t going to do gifts this year.” He frowned and sighed, shuddering at the thought of the mall crowds. “Now I have to buy you something, it’s pretty much the rule.”
She put her hand over her mouth, trying to contain an unfeminine snorted chuckle. “Oh, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about this being a gift.” A sultry grin followed her words. “Or you won’t by the time you’re done with it.”
The box, garish in colored paper and with a ridiculously over-sized bow on top, sat on the table between him them. He looked at it, she looked at him and grinned. He looked at her, and she pointedly looked at the box and couldn’t help grinning even wider.
His tongue slipped across his lips, and he asked knowing it wouldn’t do any good. “So, what is it?”
Her eyes were wide with innocence as she carefully lifted one corner of the box, letting it fall back to the table. “I think… it’s not a pony. No, definitely not a pony.”
He tried to scowl, but grinned instead. “So when do I get to open it?”
She shrugged. “Whenever you want, actually.” She sat back in her chair, watching him, enjoying the conflict, the way his eyes went from the package to her and back.
“What’s the catch?”
Her eyebrow rose and dropped. “Good question. I will tell you one thing about it: The longer you’ve gone without coming, the easier it will be for you.” She pushed her chair back, stood up and gently kissed him on the head as she walked by. “And the better it will be for me.”
He lifted the corner of the box, and let it drop. No sound or rattle told him what the contents were. And he wondered how long he could wait.
Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.
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November 2, 2011
Posted in stories tagged stories at 4:00 am by littlesubmissions
“I’ve laid some clothes out for you. Put them on.”
He walked into the bedroom, and frowned down at the bed. Shirt and tie, black slacks with the belt still hanging through the loops. The shoes he didn’t wear often enough for them to become comfortable. Black socks without the heels starting to wear thin and a pair of boxer briefs with the elastic almost entirely intact. Job interview clothes, funeral clothes, wedding clothes, clothes that itched and scratched. “Are we going out?”
“No.” Her disembodied voice floated down the hallway. “Just put it all on.”
He shrugged out of jeans and t-shirt, assembling the clothes on his body. Stuffing, tucking, buttoning, wrapping, twisting, and knotting. Wrapping the tie around his neck, checking the index card in the pocket of the slacks: Wide end goes lower and on the right. Throwing the strip of cloth around in loops and pulling it into a knot. The shoes went on last, leather pushing against his feet in places where the skin was soft and smooth, without callouses.
He found her, leaned against the wall as she walked over. Frowning and finding the ends of his tie, looking critically at the knot. Pulling it tighter, tighter, until she felt the muscles in his throat moving down the silk into her fingers. Smiling and loosening it a little, pulling it straight down his body.
“Stay.” She backed up, looking at him through her phone. A flash and a click, a few more shots, and she slipped it in her pocket. “Sit.”
He moved to the stool she had pointed at, arranging himself carefully on the hard wood surface. She sat down in the large, stuffed chair opposite, flung her legs over one arm, and arranged her computer on her lap. Smiled at him, and began typing and clicking.
He licked his lips. Fidgeted. Swallowed. Rotated his wrists in the starched cuffs on the ends of the sleeves.
She smiled at him, and walked over, straightening his tie again, positioning his hands on his knees, pulling his hair until he sat up straight. “You’re eye candy, and good eye candy stays still. Understand?”
He closed his eyes, nodded, warm feelings of surrender pushing out of his skin and against the clothes.
“I’m going to slap you for moving, and then you’re going to stay very still.”
Another nod as he licked his lips. So much easier to than think about words or talking.
The sound and dry explosion of skin across his face rocked his body, and dragged a gasp out of his chest. He swallowed hard, and focused on staying very still.
“And if you’re very good, we can take a break in a little while. I’ll get a nice ball gag, and we’ll take some more pictures. Red would go very well with that tie, I think. And if you’re very good, you can kneel on the floor while I feed you dinner. But before that, I want something pretty to look at for awhile, and I don’t want it moving around. Understand?”
He started to nod, then stopped himself. Keeping his lips as still as possible, between shallow breaths he slowly pushed out a dry whisper. “Yes ma’am.”
Copyright Jerry Jones, unauthorized use is prohibited.
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October 19, 2011
Posted in Uncategorized at 8:40 pm by littlesubmissions
These are some shorts I’ve had around. I kept thinking I’d add more to them and turn them into complete stories, but they really say all I want to say already.
[[]]
She told him the only tools she needed to top him were her hands and two words: Don’t scream.
And she didn’t stop hurting him until he stopped screaming.
[[]]
“You’re going to go out and today, and buy some bolt cutters and a tube of epoxy. Tonight, I’m going to lock up your cock. What you have to decide is, do you want the bolt cutters, or the glue? If you glue the lock shut, I won’t be able to take your cock out of the cage and torture it, but the only way it’s coming out is if I decide to end the game use the bolt cutters.”
“On the other hand, if you take the glue, you decide when and if to use it. I’ll keep the key and it will come on and off as I decide until you do, and I’ll have the bolt cutters for emergencies or if I decide to end the game. To tell the truth, I’m a little curious to see if I can torture you so much you voluntarily use the glue on that lock.”
“But what I’m really curious to find out, is, are you more afraid of my locking your cock in a cage, or taking out?”
[[]]
“You forgot something. No orgasms until you remember what it was.”
Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.
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