We’ll See

“I was thinking…”

“Oh boy.” They put down their phone and looked up, half smiling, but with a slight narrowing of their eyes as well.

“Hurtful.” He smiled and mock frowned back. “But I think this a good idea: What if I ran the errands while you got a massage? Ninety minutes, my treat. The errands should take me about that long, and I can pick you up after.”

They considered carefully. He was, reliable. He was, dependable. He would certainly do his best. He also sometimes lived in a world a few degrees off from most people, and didn’t always do things in quite the way they expected. It was often charming, generally amusing, and almost always interesting but could still lead to unintended consequences. But a massage instead of fighting for parking and weaving through the crowds was very tempting, and he seemed invested in the idea. “That’s really sweet of you. Are you sure you’ll be okay in the, as you call it, ‘fancy pants’ grocery store?”

He smiled and handed her his phone. Their shopping list was entered into a virtual cart and ready to be picked up curbside. They scrolled through it and adjusted a quantity here, made a last minute substitution there, and handed it back. “Very well, I consent to getting a massage while you toil in the parking lots and stores, but only because I care about you so much.”


Strong hands kneaded tight muscles and the sound of slow, deep breaths filled the room. Their mind drifted, floating lazily through scenarios. Half formed thoughts and desires that had occurred to them while they were busy with other things and been filed away for later. Maybe later was now?

By the time their massage was over and he pulled up outside, they had a plan in mind. They opened the passenger door and hopped in, giving him a smile. “Everything go all right?”

He nodded and checked the mirror as he pulled into traffic. “The checkout people were chatty, and I am obliged to inform you that Neal the bagger’s daughter was a pumpkin for Halloween, and just so cute, but through the infinite suffering of small talk I have somehow survived.”

They nodded with mock sincerity. “Truly, you have suffered as none have before. They shall name you the Martyr of Saturday Errands and your name shall ring through the ages.”

He started to reply but they cut him off. “Speaking of suffering, you should stop by the sex toy store on the way home.”

He licked his lips, whatever he was going to say gone from his mind. “What-“

“Nope. You’ll wait in the car. If you’re a good boy you’ll find out when we get home.”


“I could carry this stuff up, if you like. Even put it away if you want.”

“Are you trying to stay on my good side for some reason?” They smiled and waved the bag he was by far the most interested in in front of him, keeping it carefully closed. “That’s sweet of you, but I’m going up anyway and I’ll take an armload. Then I’m going to hop in the shower, and you can meet me in the bedroom when you’ve carried up the rest.”

They heard him come in to the bedroom and close the door while they were still in the shower. They were done but stood under the water a few more minutes. The bag from the sex toy store was right in the middle of the bed, and he would definitely see it there. He could peek and satisfy his curiosity, but they knew he wouldn’t. He liked the anticipation, the not knowing. They waited just a bit longer, turned off the water, dried off, put on their robe, and walked into the bedroom.

He was waiting for them, standing awkwardly in the doorway, not sure what to do with his body. They gestured at him with one hand. “Your clothes are not necessary. Be a dear and remove them, please.”

He stood up from the bed and quickly took his clothes off, folding them and putting them on the chair by the door. They smiled and looked at the muscles moving under his back, his ass, his cock and balls dangling there. Flesh they had hurt, mangled, and tantalized. Flesh that he wanted them to hurt, mangle, deny, and frustrate.

They went to the closet and took out a blindfold, then sat down on the edge of the bed, and motioned him over. “You would look so much prettier on your knees.”

He walked over and dropped to his knees in front of them.

They breathed in, put on a blank expression, and slapped him hard across the face on the exhale. “That is for trying to peek down my robe at my charms.”

He blinked and nodded. “Thank you.”

They smiled and slapped him three more times, hard. “And that is for not trying harder to peek down my robe at my charms.”

“Thank you.” He nodded again, his breathing a little harder, a little faster.

“Oh don’t thank me yet.” They slipped the blindfold over his head, adjusting it carefully. “Can you see anything?”

He shook his head. “I can see a little light under the very bottom but not really.”

“Hrm.” It wouldn’t matter, but they wanted things to be right. This was important, and that detail would bother them, distract them. They pulled the blindfold down slightly and adjusted the loops around his head. “Now?”

“Nothing. I can’t see anything.” His voice was softer than usual, his breath still quick, a sign he was sinking.

“Good.” They ran one foot along his balls, dragging it up his cock. He flinched at the touch, expecting pain, but then moaned and spread his knees further, giving them better access. They took their foot away, letting him wonder if they were going to kick him or not, then chuckled and scooted back on the bed. They took the time to quickly set up their cell phone on the bedstand so it would record the end of the bed.

“You were so generous, treating me to that massage, that I let you buy me a new toy as well. It’s… highly recommended.” They ripped open the packaging, inserted the batteries, and turned it over in their hands. “It looks just, well, you know, though.” They let him wonder as they shrugged out of their robe, scooted to the edge of the bed, and slid a pillow under their shoulders.

“Let’s try it out, shall we?” They flicked it on, licked their lips, frowned, and took a deep breath. He flinched again as they propped one foot on his shoulder. They laughed, pulled their foot back, and kicked him on his upper arm. He rocked back and yelped, more surprised than hurt, but found his balance and straightened up. So they kicked him again, in the same spot.

He rocked back, but moved forward again. They paused, then kicked him again. He rocked back, and straightened up again. They settled into a rhythm, the coordinated giving and accepting of pain and the connection it built that was so similar but so different from fucking.

When his breath was ragged and his shoulders tense, waiting for the next kick, they dropped their leg on his shoulder and positioned the toy at their cunt. They turned it on the lowest setting and slowly slid it inside. The buzz filled the room, and they watched him as the vibrations moved through their body. “Oh, damn, that’s nice.”

He whimpered and they slid the hard plastic in a little further. It felt delicious, but he deserved some fun too. “It’s absolutely obscene the way its stretching my pussy open though. I was going to get the small, but the bitch at the store upsold me on the medium.”

He shifted on his knees, his cock hard and straining in front of him. They rocked their leg back and forth on his shoulder, moving his body as the vibrations filled them. They looked at the toy and cocked their head. “I wonder what…” They used their thumb to push the button on the side and part of the toy began gyrating as it jerked violently in their hand and they yanked it out of their body. “Ope, nope, nope, we don’t push that button!” They quickly pushed the button again to turn it off and used their other arm to hold onto the bed as it returned to the low setting.

They laughed at his smile in spite of themselves, and re-positioned themselves. “You think that was funny?”

“Not at all, just got a joke I heard earlier. Fifty bucks, same as in town.”

They put their foot on his shoulder again, but instead of kicking this time they pushed until he fell over, landing on his ass with an unceremonious “Oomph.”

They both resumed their places, and the sound of slow steady hum filled the air again. Their breathing got faster, harder, as the vibrations filled them again. “Uhmm… that’s nice… it’s really stretching me though, filling me up… oh fuck it hurts but I don’t want it to stop, the head is almost too big, uhhhhh…”

They rocked back and forth, letting him hear them, smell them, almost taste them, everything but actually see the carnal act occurring a foot in front of his face. They told him what he couldn’t see until they couldn’t think of the words anymore, until the sensations in their cunt were all they could think about. Eventually, finally, they bit their lip and groaned as they came.

Some time passed, until they could think again and felt soft and fuzzy. They stood up, dropped the toy on the floor, and stretched. He was still kneeling, naked, his cock throbbing in front of him.

They picked up their phone and stopped recording, then sat back down on the bed in front of him, and carefully removed the blindfold. He blinked, and instantly his gaze went down to the floor.

“Uh uh, look at me.” They raised his head back up with a finger under his chin. “Do you wish you could have seen that?”

“Yesssss…” He could inflect such desperation in such a short word.

“Then you have a choice to make.” They turned their hand to grab his chin, hold it in place, force him to look into their eyes. “I recorded myself using that toy. If, if you really want to see it, I’ll give you a copy. But you’ll only get to edge to it, not come. And I mean hard edges. Jerking, twitching, desperate to come a slight breeze will push you over, edges. And I’m not going to tell you how many edges you’ll owe me. Might be one, might be one hundred. But you won’t come until I get those edges, and every one to that video. Or…”

He croaked, “Or?”

“Or I’ll get you off right now. No tricks, a nice, full orgasm. But when you come, I’ll delete that video forever, and put that toy away for who knows how long, but you will never see me use it. So which one will it be, pet?”

–Jerry Jones


The dowel rod thudded into his ass again. His fingers clawed at the carpet, turning into fists then spreading out flat, desperate for sensation that wasn’t pain. A guttural moan escaped his lips.

She smirked, and hit him again. “You said you wanted your ass to look like the one in the picture. You regretting that yet?”

“Ah, no, ma’am.” Each word was a separate thought forced through the haze of pain.

“You will.” She hit him again, her cunt twitching with the spasms in his thigh muscles along his back. When his feet started to kick, she would slow down, and when his breathing started to even out she would speed up again. A carefully timed and orchestrated control of his body through pain and a simple wooden rod.

He inhaled and she hit him again, smiling at his sudden exhalation.

She had started out with rubber bands, tenderizing his flesh, snapping them all across his ass. Sitting on the floor behind him while he knelt on all fours, snapping it over and over, poking his balls just to watch him jump. They had both slid into that shared intimacy of suffering and pleasure, and when his skin was ready she had moved on to the rod.

It wasn’t a particularly heavy wooden rod, just a nice weight to abrade the skin and bruise the flesh. Blood vessels, already brought near the surface of his skin by the rubber bands, popped and the skin got redder. Lines of abrasion began to appear, criss-crossing the pale flesh.

Her wrist flicked again. The wet smack of wood hitting flesh filled the room. He twitched, grabbed at the carpet again. The rod snapped.

“Motherfucker.” She looked down at the rod, twisting it from side to side. The end hung down from her hand, shifting slightly with the movements of her hand. One stubborn strand of wood held the two halves together, peeling away slowly.

He looked behind him, and choked out a laugh. The rush of endorphins and pain left him giddy, and his shoulders shook with laughter.

She laughed back at him, twisting the dowel rod. “You broke my toy, pet.”

“I know, right? It’s kind of awesome.”

“No, it kind of sucks. I was really enjoying beating you with it.”

“I’M INVINCIBLE!” He did the best fist pump he could while on all fours.

She laughed harder and shook her head. “Oh, HELL NO. You are not getting away with that.” She snapped the dowel rod at the break, and shifted to sit on his back. “There’s more than one way to do this.” She jabbed his ass with the pointed end of the dowel rod, grinning at the way he jumped underneath her.

He tried to roll with it, shouting back at her “INVINCIBLE!”

She snorted and jabbed again, using the other half of the dowel rod on his other cheek, noting the way the skin depressed and formed around the point. She started rubbing her cunt on his back, jerking off on his body as he twitched underneath her. Every short jab brought a jolt from his body that traveled up her clit into her brain.

“Oh, I think I found a new favorite vibrator…” She jabbed him again, trying to find the timing and pace that would give her the most pleasure. “You were saying something about being INVINCIBLE?”

He swallowed hard, and tried again, his voice softer. A whimper. “I meant a request for Pat Benatar’s Invincible, ma’am?”

She ground down on him, and thought for a second. She couldn’t stab him quickly enough to get the amount of motion she wanted, so she shifted her hands, wrapping them around the base of the wooden rods. “Tell you what, smart boy. I’ll give you a drum solo instead.”

She started thumping the rods into his ass, bouncing them between her fingers and his skin. His body twitched perfectly, and she rode the pain arching up his ass across his spine and into his brain. Using his pain to jerk herself off.

They’d laugh about the scene later, how it had gone wrong but still turned out all right. She’d smirk when he winced as he sat down, he’d shake his fist and say “INVINCIBLE” when it felt dramatically appropriate. Of course he wasn’t invincible. What would be the fun in that?

Preview: I’m going to need you to give me your underwear.

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.


“Make me hungry, or I won’t let you eat until you do.”

“Hm. I don’t suppose you mean baking a loaf of fresh bread?”

Her eyebrow arched. “Yeah, you should try that. It’ll work out great for you.”


He put his book down, leaned back, and thought. She flipped through web pages listlessly.

It was Friday night.

.:Friday Night:.

A three piece suit and a leash with a collar attached. He had crawled across the room and knelt at her feet.

She had looked down, rocked her head from side to side, evaluating. Then shrugged and went back to typing out an email.

She had a salad and some crackers for dinner, and he had asked if she was serious. Earlier. About not eating. She had gotten him a glass of tap water and told him she was feeling generous. At the moment.

He had taken a shower, shaving carefully and shampooing twice. Walked into the bedroom with his skin scrubbed pink, and found the plastic wrap. It was hard, wrapping it around his own face, stretching the plastic to distort his features, pulling it just tight enough. He tucked the end into a loop, saw that it would hold, and shuffled carefully back to her.

A sharpie hanging out of his mouth, he stood there naked and waiting.

He thought he saw her head move just enough to glance at him through the plastic, then go back to the television. He took the sharpie in one hand, and carefully imagined block letters written in reverse. He dragged it across his skin, until his chest had a jagged, wavering collection of lines that spelled THING.


A little lower, and he marked his body again. HOLE.

A shrug from her, followed by a shake of the head. “Nope.”

He drank another glass of ice water, and went to bed hungry.


“I’m glad you did this on the weekend, it might have been awkward explaining why I was skipping lunch at work.”

She popped another piece of egg in her mouth, and nodded. “You’re right, I am a kind and considerate ma’am.” She stood up, moved towards the dishwasher with her plate, and picked up his glass of water on the way. A quick rinse and she moved back to the table. “Overly kind, since you still haven’t made me hungry. You can stick your head under the tap to drink until I say otherwise.”

He just nodded.

“So, locking butt plugs and butt plugs with holes drilled through. What do you think?”

She flipped back and forth between the tabs, looking them over, and counted off thoughts on her fingers. “They’re nice, the locking one is expensive, and I think you’d get very hungry before they arrived unless you want to spend stupid money on shipping.”


“And technically I don’t think the one with the hole drilled through would make you a drain. More of a bowl. Or some other container. But I think a drain is open on both ends and leads to something else. Like a funnel, but more permanent and the same size at both ends.”

He moved the cursor up to the x in the corner, and when she didn’t object closed the window. “I’ll think of something else.”

“I’m thinking I’ll have a nice sandwich for lunch while you do that.”

He wiped his mouth off and went back to the living room, stopping by the bedroom on the way. When she came in after him he was naked, handcuffed to the radiator. The curtains were open, and someone was walking their dog across the street. He had swiveled her chair slightly, so that it faced the radiator but was still out of view of the windows. The Hitachi was plugged in, sitting on the arm of the chair.

“I thought, if you wanted to masturbate, I would watch, and eventually you could throw me the key, but with the window there, I still wouldn’t be able to…”

She held out her hand. “Give me the key.”

He shivered slightly and handed over the small key.

“I’m going to take a nap and don’t feel like wondering if you’re going to sneak a snack from the kitchen. Yell if there’s an emergency.”

He watched her leave the room. “Shit.”

Later, still naked, his arms quivering, he struggled to squeeze out one more push up before collapsing on the floor. His stomach twitched from the sit-ups, and his thighs burned from jumping jacks. “Anything?”

She shook her head. “Good effort, but your form sucks. I’d suggest a personal trainer but I don’t know a personal trainer I dislike so much that I’d inflict you on them. Maybe you could watch a video.”

“No, I mean about making you hungry…”

“Nope, sorry.” She had smiled, but he wasn’t sure if the sympathy was real or faked. “Guess you go to bed hungry. The good news is it looks like you can only go about four weeks without food before it becomes a major health complication.”

“Four weeks?”

“Um-hum, we’ll really save on groceries though. So, upside.”

“I don’t know if I can do four weeks without cookies…”

Her feet stomped across the room towards him and he flinched at the sound. One hand grabbed his hair while the other slapped him hard, again, and a third time. “Then. Make. Me. Hungry.” She bit off each word, then shoved his head down and went back to her chair.

He took a shower and laid in bed, thinking. They didn’t talk when she came to bed.

He didn’t sleep much that night.


He wasn’t really hungry anymore, but there was still the dull ache of absence inside him. He was drinking a lot of water.

“Gotta go get something, you need anything while I’m out?”

“Hm, I’ve been thinking about just sewing your mouth shut since your progress is so slow, but I’m not sure what kind of thread I’d use for that. So no. Remember, no food while you’re out though, or I’ll make it a point to have a needle and thread handy the next time.”

He wondered if she was serious, but nodded in agreement. “I know.”

He came back with a bag, the shower ran, and he started fiddling on the computer in the bedroom. She heard the hum of printing, muffled swear words, and finally he walked back towards the living room.

“Um, could you close the blinds?”

The plastic rod twisted until the room settled into a fake twilight. “All right, let me see.”

He came out to her, naked.

Her eyes narrowed.

Parts of his skin had been shaved, and still shined. In the center of these patches images of the muscles and organs just under the skin gleamed. A heart sat on his right pectoral, a large red fist. His upper right bicep was a chunk of muscle with bones protruding out the ends, sinew giving it the dark purple glare of a fresh bruise. He shifted sightly, and she looked down to the muscles on his right thigh. To the image of the red muscle and white fat running down the inside.

“Temporary tattoos?”

He nodded. “Yeah, turns out you can just print them out on an inkjet printer. Rubbing alcohol takes them off, I messed up the first one and had to start over. You might want to use a dental dam though, I’m not sure if they’re toxic or not if you get them in your mouth.” He swallowed hard. “I mean, if you’re hungry.”

She pushed him down on the floor, eyes never leaving the heart painted on his chest. “Oh, I’m hungry. Hold still.” Her head wavered between the image on his thigh and the one on his arm. She’d already decided to save the heart for last.

Her teeth sank into his thigh, and his hips twitched. She held the soft skin and meat in her mouth, pushing her teeth a little closer together, and purred.

She started to eat.

Preview: “I’M INVINCIBLE!”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

The Closet

The kinkiest sex toy they owned was a closet.

Most of the time it was a mixture of their personalities, the things lurking behind their skin. The things that they kept around even if they didn’t use them all the time.

Her comic books, his old video games and systems. Clothes with paint on them shoved back into the corners, boxes of old books, things that followed them from place to place but rarely saw the light of day. Her shoes, his boardgames. Her school papers and textbooks, his LARP costumes.

It was well organized, and they could dismantle it quickly. She would stand in the closet, passing him things which he would stack in the corner. A well rehearsed pattern that pulled everything out, and left a bare room with rectangles and squares pushed into the carpet and a wooden rod hanging overhead. A blank, anonymous door with a brass handle and a room that could be anything.

A place they could make up their own rules.

“One rule: If you go in there, whatever comes through that door after you goes in your mouth.”

That had been the rule once. She had fed him his dinner through a crack in the door, one piece at a time, her eating at a TV tray and him sitting on the floor inside the closet, watching her. The food had come through slowly, a morsel at a time from her fingertips.

After that had come her fingers, him sucking them clean, her rubbing her clit. A single boot had slid through, and he had sucked on the toes, the heel, taking more of it in his mouth until he choked and whimpered in frustration when she pulled it away. Endless shots of piss poured from a pitcher, sliding in one after another, the acrid smell making his eyes water. All the while watching her through the crack in the door.

Sometimes he crawled in willingly. Other times she forced him in, on his feet or on his hands and knees.

Sometimes it was an airlock, she was a merciless space pirate, he a captain, and she would force him to perform the most degrading and disgusting acts to avoid being ejected into space. His crew dead, he would jerk himself off and wallow and beg for his life while she stood looking in, one hand on the button that would end his life.

Other times it was a prison cell, her the pitiless warden, him the convict. A hard man, who had killed and committed the most heinous of crimes, now bound and tied as she beat him with rods and canes, tortured his flesh and extracted his debt to society.

It had been a gallows, a rope looped around his neck and running up to the wooden closet rod. Holding him in place while she methodically stripped him and whipped his flesh. A last taste of pain and a good show for the crowd before his execution.

A cargo container van, holding the latest pleasure slave purchased for the empress. She was only the driver, but there had been a mistake. He was a common field hand, and knew nothing of pleasuring women. He had begged her for lessons to avoid execution when the empress first used him, and she had taken pity on him and obliged. Her teaching methods were stern, severe, and punishment was used to reinforce lessons.

The closet became all these things, and a few more. Some of they repeated, some they laughed about and swore they would never do a scene after reading William S. Burroughs again.

But when it was all done, they always put the closet back together. He handed her the items stacked neatly in the corner, she put them back in the closet. The bookend to the beginning, stacking the things they kept under their skin back out of sight, until it was time to take them out and play with them again.

Preview courtesy of Ava Amnesia: “Make me hungry, or I won’t let you eat until you do.”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

So You Call Yourself a Masochist

So, kind of bored, and there’s a dialectizer over at http://www.rinkworks.com/dialect/

Anyway, this is the story posted below, run through the Elmer Fudd dialectizer. Kudos to anyone who actually makes it through the whole thing.

Video Booth

Dey sat in the empty pawking wot, the engine of the caw coowing down and cwicking as twaffic passed by on the stweet, powitewy waiting fow wights to tuwn fwom wed to gween, uh-hah-hah-hah.

“Dewe. You can jewk off in thewe, if it’s so impowtant to you. In fact, I’d suggest it since youw cock is getting wocked up as soon as we get back home.”

“In…” He wooked at the cindew bwock wawws painted industwiaw gway, the metaw doow painted the same cowow wif fwecks of wust outwining the hinges and watch. “Dewe?”

“Yep. You go in, get some video tokens, and jewk off in the booth. When you’we done, come back out and we’ww go home.” Hew fingews tapped on hew phone. “But I want you to use aww the tokens, and stay untiw the wast video is ovew. We’we awweady wasting time on youw fiwthy uwges, I see no point in wasting money on them as weww.”

He sat in the caw, wain softwy hitting the window, wunning down to the asphawt pawking wot and chewed on his wowew wip.

“Is thewe a pwobwem?”

He swawwowed, hawd. “It’s just so seedy.”

Hew eyebwow awched, awthough hew eyes nevew weft the scween of hew phone as she tapped and swiped. “Too seedy to jewk off in? Because most peopwe don’t went the pwesidentiaw suite at the Hiwton fow that sowt of thing.” Hew tone was powite but fwat, not inviting fuwthew discussion ow showing an intewest in his opinion, uh-hah-hah-hah.

He was pwetty suwe the qwestion was entiwewy whetowicaw, and things wouwd onwy get wowse if he waited any wongew. “Yes ma’am. Be wight back.” His feet hit the pavement, and he winced as wain tapped his face. He wawked qwickwy acwoss the pawking wot, shouwdews hunched at the cowd dwizzwe.

He wooked awound as he stepped inside, a young woman wif pewoxide bwonde haiw and piewcings in hew too thin face wooked back at him. De pwace was empty except fow the two of them, and a wocaw wadio station pwayed fwom somewhewe behind the countew. Too bwight neon made evewything into a hawsh edge, and cuwved miwwows wefwected bwack dispways of DVDs, magazines, and sex toys. Oh, dat scwewy wabbit! De woom smewwed of cheap pwastic and gwossy papew. Neon signs and a puwpwe cuwtain in the middwe of the faw waww pwoudwy pwocwaimed that viewing booths wewe this way, and a hand wettewed sign gave a wist of wong and often vewy specific wuwes fow the booths. Oh, dat scwewy wabbit!

He fwinched when he got to the end of the wist and saw “NO PETS AWWOWED” wwitten in puwpwe mawkew wif gwittew awound the edges. Oh, dat scwewy wabbit!

He gwanced behind himsewf at the cwosed doow, and then appwoached the countew, scanning anothew sign, uh-hah-hah-hah. “Uh, ten tokens pwease?” He was awweady offewing the cashiew fowded papew biwws as he said the wowds. Oh, dat scwewy wabbit!

“Suwe.” She swapped buttons on the wegistew, and passed back ten cheap pwastic disks impwinted wif the stowes wogo and some change. “Videos must be pwaying at aww times whiwe you awe in the booth, open booths wiww have a gween wight, occupied booths a wed wight, and wead the west of the wuwes posted by the waww.” She tuwned hew head just enough to nod at the cuwtain and then went back to fiddwing wif a PC. “Booths awe that way.” He was pwetty suwe that speech had appeawed in hew dweams at weast once, and she spoke wif the cawm bowedom of someone twying to make it thwough an aftewnoon shift.

“Danks. Oh, dat scwewy wabbit! ” He wawked towawds the cuwtain, pushed his way thwough the cwoth, and wooked at the bank of anonymous wooden doows wif gween wights above them. It was eewiwy cawm, the music and wight behind him muted by the cuwtain even as the pwastic smeww soaked thwough and mixed wif the shawp smeww of ammonia and wemon scented cweanew. He stepped fowwawd, gwabbed the fiwst knob, and moved into the booth.

A video scween pwaying thwee second cwips wif instwuctions pwinted in white bwock wettews to the side gwawed back at him. De men and women fucking and sucking wooked faded behind the sheet of pwexigwass mounted ovew the scween, uh-hah-hah-hah. De vinyw seat was the dawk owange of bad 1970s science fiction movies, and a box of tissues sat in the cownew, a sqwawe of white papew poking up out of the box. He sat down, putting his tokens beside him, and stawted fwipping thwough the ATM stywe keypad, moving fwom categowy to categowy qwickwy, then punching in a sewection, not cawing much what video he ended up on, uh-hah-hah-hah.

He pushed the gween button and dwopped one of the discs in the swot. Moaning immediatewy fiwwed the woom as he wooked awound, pushed the pwivacy watch on the doow to the wocked position, and wooked awound again, uh-hah-hah-hah. Dingy dwywaww wif Contwactow White paint, a howe punched in at hip wevew on one side that he cwinged away fwom, and a singwe dim wight buwb in a cheap fixtuwe above him. A woman guwgwed and choked on the scween as an anonymous cock fowced its way into hew thwoat.

He puwwed the button thwough his pants, opening them and swiding down the zippew. Cawefuw not to wet his bawe skin touch the vinyw he swid his cock out, and stawted stwoking. He weaned back against the waww, and twied to bwock out the sounds of the video and substitute his own fantasies. Oh, dat scwewy wabbit!

He jumped at the sudden sound of his phone chiwping fwom his pocket, and fumbwed to puww it out wif his weft hand. A smiwing gween sqwawe towd him he had a text message fwom hew.

“Have you stawted? How many tokens did you get? If it’s going to be awhiwe I might go get a coffee.”

His cock wiwted as the guwgwing continued and he stawted typing out a wetuwn text. “Ten tokens, just stawted ma’am.”

“K. Stawt wecowding wif youw phone. We’ww discuss youw fiwthy uwges fuwthew whiwe we watch the video at home.”

“Yes ma’am.”

His cock twitched and got hawdew as he thumbed the vowume down on the phone, and fwipped on the video wecowd. He pwopped it against the waww on the vinyw bench, and shifted his hips to get his cock into the centew of the fwame. He pushed his back against the waww, into the cownew, shifted his wegs, and stawted jewking off again, uh-hah-hah-hah.

Cwosing his eyes, he wowked himsewf up swowwy, enjoying the feewing of buiwding pweasuwe. Even having to pause to dwop anothew coin in became a wewcome deway, a way to wemind himsewf of what he wouwd be giving up watew when she assembwed the cage awound his cock and seawed it wif a padwock.

De phone gave him a thiwd pewson view of himsewf, pants and undewweaw bunched awound his bawws, jewking off in a cheap boof whiwe twying to touch as wittwe as possibwe. He wooked fwom the phone scween to the waww as the wawge, fake cock swid thwough the howe, a bwight pwastic condom wwapped awound the too bwack pwastic.

He swawwowed hawd, wondewing it was hew… he was pwetty suwe it was, but… Uncewtainty fwipped him back and fowth, his mind twying out the thought of sucking a possibwe stwangews stwap-on off in a pown booth. His cock twitched, and he gwanced at the phone again, uh-hah-hah-hah. No new text messages, and pwenty of baws. Oh, dat scwewy wabbit! On the scween the cock bounced impatientwy, swapping the aiw. He thought it was hews, but the pink condom made it hawd to teww, discowowed the pwastic and obscuwed the veins a wittwe.

His eyes fwicked ovew to the computew monitow again, annoyed as it demanded anothew token, uh-hah-hah-hah. He fwipped one into the swot, hit the wepway button, and caught the tip of the pwastic dick in his mouf as it stawted to jewk again, uh-hah-hah-hah. He shuddewed as his knees touched the fwoow, wondewing how much cum had been spwayed acwoss it, weft to dwy untiw the end of the night.

De cock bounced the back of his mouf and wubbed acwoss his tongue as he jewked his own cock. De wubwication swime of the condom settwed in his mouth, and he stawted jewking his own cock hawdew. He cwinged at the thought of sucking a cock thwough a waww, totawwy disembodied and dehumanized, just an extension of a howe in the waww wif a tongue.

His hand bounced against his bawws as he jewked his own cock in time wif the wet swuwping sounds his mouf was making. He couwd feew the cock in his mouf shifting as its ownew moved hew own hips on the faw side of the waww, wubbing hew cunt against the base. He fowced it against the back of his thwoat, twying to keep it stiww, gagging and choking, and wubbed his own cock fastew.

A moan of fwustwation swipped out of his mouf as he had to pause, twist his shouwdews, and put anothew token in the machine. He saw his mouf fuww of cock on the scween of his phone, the twaiw of dwoow wunning down his chin, and fwinched a wittwe.

De waww thumped and he stawted sucking again, wowking his mouf against the cock. Jewking himsewf off and sucking off an anonymous diwdo thwough a waww. Fiwming it so he couwd watch it watew wif his giwwfwiend, wondewing what she wouwd do whiwe they watched it.

De fwoow pwessed up against his knees and his jaw stawted to ache as his cock twitched in his hand, then his body spasmed as he spwayed cum acwoss the fwoow. He whimpewed at the thought of what he was doing, and the cock in his mouf paused, suddenwy vewy stiww. He swumped a wittwe, and the cock popped out of his mouth, waited whiwe he bweathed hawd and swumped down, then swid back thwough the waww, a shiny stwand of sawiva wunning fwom his mouf to the tip.

De scween demanded mowe tokens, and gave pwices if he needed to puwchase them.

He swipped the wemaining tokens in, one aftew the othew, pushing them in as fast as possibwe and thumbing the gween button to indicate his sewection sevewaw times. Oh, dat scwewy wabbit! Tuwned back to the waww and twied to get a gwimpse of the pewson on the othew side, but thewe was just the anonymous white of the opposite waww stawing back.

Shame washed ovew him as he wooked down and saw his cum spwayed acwoss the fwoow. He puwwed a handfuw of tissues out of the box, and stawted smeawing it into the cheap papew. He couwd feew the cowd aiw against his cock, stiww hanging out of his pants, and imagined what it wouwd be wike to be fowced to wick the fwoow cwean, uh-hah-hah-hah. Being stowed undew the countew aww day, wistening fow the sound of the dead bowt that meant he wouwd be dwagged out fwom his cubicwe, puwwed by his weash thwough the stowe, thwough the cuwtain, and back to the jewkoff booths to wick the fwoow cwean, uh-hah-hah-hah. A pwug in his ass, a watchfuw eye to ensuwe that he stawted in one cownew and cawefuwwy wowked his tongue ovew evewy sqwawe inch of swime soaked tiwe. Being dwagged out to the pawking wot behind the stowe, gwavew and dust biting into his knees, being towd to piss and shit behind the dumpstew in the faw cownew. Wouwd she feed him thewe, a boww of weftovews and swop she accumuwated fwom hew meaws thwough the day, befowe dwagging him back inside and wocking him undew the countew again? How wong befowe she decided it wouwd be mowe efficient just to bwindfowd him and chain him to the waww of the booth, a sign saying “Cum Dumpstew” awound his neck?

He shook his head, and wicked his wips. Oh, dat scwewy wabbit! Dis was why he begged hew to wock his cock up and contwow his owgasms, so his fantasies didn’t get out of hand. So he couwd focus on hew pweasuwe and not be destwoyed by his own, uh-hah-hah-hah. De fwoow finawwy wooked cwean, uh-hah-hah-hah. He stawted to thwow the tissue in the gawbage can, then hesitated, and swipped them in his pocket instead. He didn’t want the giww at the countew to see what he had done. He stuffed his cock back in his pants, and sat on the bench. De same cwip pwayed on the video scween ovew and ovew.

He took a deep bweath, and wooked ovew at his phone, fwipping the video off. No new messages. Oh, dat scwewy wabbit! Fow awhiwe, he just sat and bweathed. Finawwy, the scween went back to demanding mowe tokens, and he stood up, wawked out, and headed down the haww.

“Danks. Oh, dat scwewy wabbit! ” He waved at the giww behind the countew as he passed by, hew wepwy muffwed by the doow swinging cwosed behind him. He smiwed at hew as he got into the caw, and she smiwed back fwom behind hew cup of coffee.

“Have fun?”

He shwugged. “Yeah, I kind of did, actuawwy. You?”

She shwugged back and stawted the caw. “Oh, I awways do. But not as much fun as I’m going to have watew.”

Pweview: “Did you know sponges have one-hundwed-and-one househowd uses?”

Copywight Jewwy Jones. Oh, dat scwewy wabbit! Unauthowized use is pwohibited.


We all have to make sacrifices. Tonight, I’m going to sacrifice you.

Give me a minute here… I’m not really big on explaining things, but I need you to do something tonight, and you have these helpful impulses that can derail things sometimes. So I have this scene I’ve been wanting to do.

A lot of female tops claim they’re goddesses, but I’m actually going to do something about it.

I’m going to make you a nice meal, and you’re going to eat it sitting in the closet, in the dark, alone. Then you’re going to wait.

After awhile, I’ll knock on the door, tell you to stand and face away from the door. You’ll do that. The blindfold will go on first. The sacrifice isn’t allowed to see anyone, especially the goddess, after preparations have started.

The shackles will go on. I love that word, “shackles.” Taking away so much, and leaving you just enough movement to be led to more horrible things.

Once you’re properly restrained, then I’m going to cut your clothes off of you. Wear something you’re not attached to, is my advice. And try not to twitch, because I’m going to use the straight razor to do it.

After you’re naked, the leash goes on. I’m going to lead you into the shower, and clean you. No enema tonight, but otherwise I plan on being very thorough, washing every inch of your body until you’re perfectly clean. Lots of hot water and soap. Your cock, especially, needs to be squeaky clean for the goddess.

I bought the softest abrasive pads I could find. They’ll probably still kind of suck. Feel free to whimper, beg, or plead, it won’t make any difference.

When your filthy flesh is as clean as I can make it, I’m going to dry off, then I’ll dry you off.

I’ll lead you back to the bed. I’m looking forward to seeing those little mincing steps and that awkward shuffle from the manacles. Jerking on the leash, reminding you of how hobbled and helpless you are. When I tell you to, you’ll stop, turn around, and get on the bed, face up. I’ll help you.

I’m going to tie your arms and legs to the bedposts, and then remove the shackles. Then I’ll pull the ropes tighter, until you’re spreadeagled, and tie them off.

The blindfold stays on.

Then I’m going to ride you. I’ll put a cockring on you, and here’s where I need you to do exactly what I say, and not get too spacey and forget your instructions.

Keep from coming for as long as you can. I want to get off as many times as I can. You can beg for your life, pray, make whatever noises you think a sacrifice being fucked to death would make, but keep from coming like your god-damn life depended on it. Because when you come, I’m going to pretend to…

Well, before we start fucking, I’ll have a small piece of rare steak. I’m going to heat it up a little, and plastic wrap it to your chest. When you come, I’m going to rip it off your chest and eat it with my hands, sitting on your cock, feeling it twitch, and letting blood and spit dribble out of my mouth onto your body.

You can scream once, if you want, when I pull it off. I think I might even like that. But otherwise I want you to lie very, very still, and breathe as shallowly as possible. Try to look… not alive.

Try to look like a sacrifice.

Like I said, a lot of female tops claim they’re goddesses, but I’m actually going to do something about it.

So while I would never really kill you, and I don’t even want to use this as fear play, that’s what I want you to do. If you’re down with it, take off your shoes and socks, get dressed in something old with paint on it, and sit in the closet while I start making your last meal.

Thank you.

Preview: You’re running up quite a tab, and we’re not very big on credit. How do you plan to pay for all of this?

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.


“I think I look a little bit like the Lone Ranger with this on.” He arched his head imperiously, trying to look dignified tied to the bed with a black sleeping mask over his eyes.

“Pretty sure the Lone Ranger had holes in his mask. So he could, you know, see where the horse was going.” She reached behind herself to unhook her bra, and tossed it overhand into the dirty laundry hamper. “I always liked the Cisco Kid more anyway. He had a tinge of cruelty, sometimes.”

“Maybe if I had a white hat? Or a Native American friend?” He rolled his shoulders, pulling his arms against the ropes stretching to the corners of the bed. “I do have to draw the line at bringing a horse into the bedroom though.”

She kicked her panties off, picked them up and threw them after her bra. “No horses? I don’t recall that being on your list of hard limits.”

“But think of what hooves would do to this carpet.” He felt her weight on the bed and moved his head in her direction, the world still black. “We’d never get our damage deposit back.”

She pursed her lips, nodded. “I suppose. But what if I want a ride?” She frowned. “Hold on, change of plans.” She stalked across the room to the closet and slid out the chest of toys.

“You plan these?”

She looked back at him, stood up with her hands on her hips. “Yeah, I plan these! You thought I didn’t?”

He noticed the tone of her voice. “I’m not complaining, I just figured you were more like a force of nature, like a hurricane, or, you know, polio, or something.”

“Polio?” She walked back across the room and punched him hard, in the crease where his leg met his torso. “I’m polio now?”

His body jerked, and a gasp ran out of his mouth. “Not in a bad way, not in a crippled FDR way, just in a, very, naturally talented at what you do way.”

She watched him carefully, trying to decide if he was trying to push her buttons. Finally shook her head and walked back across the room to the closet. “Whatever.”

She stomped back with a dildo in her hand, shoved the base in his mouth. “Here, hold this. Maybe it’ll even keep you from putting your foot in your mouth any more.” She straddled his chest, situating herself, and muttered. “Probably need a lot bigger cock for that though. Ass.” She reached around and punched him again.

He remained silent. It seemed safest.

“So, about this ride, which you are going to give me, in light of your decision to place carpet and damage deposits over my pleasure.”

His body tensed up, and he swallowed hard.

“I don’t have spurs, but I do have another means of controlling you. I don’t think you’ll like it much. But. Do a good job, and I’ll ride that cock sticking out of your mouth. Do a very good job, and I’ll ride that cock sticking out of your pelvis. Ready?”

He nodded, the cock jutting from his mouth bobbing obscenely, the cock behind her twitching as she rubbed her ass against it. His hands turned into clenched fists, and he forced all the air out of his lungs, waiting for whatever came next.

She ran her fingers lightly across his ribs.

He twitched, snorted a laugh around the latex in his mouth, and tried to hold still.

She ran her fingers over him again, and got a similar result. “Oh good. Now remember to keep that cock in your mouth.” Her hands started moving faster, playing his body a well trained animal.

She ground her pelvis into his sternum, leaning down and running her fingers across his body. Slower, then faster as the mood took her. Listening to his mad howls, partially chocked off by the mouthful of cock. Feeling his body writhe and twitch underneath her, using his skin to jerk herself off. Pulling one hand away to play with her tits, or rub her clit, working him into a frenzy so that his body kept twitching even when she pulled both hands away and used them to to pleasure herself.

She worked his body, making it rock from side to side and twist faster and slower, then faster again. Watching the drool fly out of his mouth and splatter on his face and the pillow as his head jerked manically from side to side. Watching him loose all control of his body as it pounded from side to side, up and down, held in place by the ropes but still trying to escape the torment. Losing all control to animal instinct and blind physical responses.

And her controlling it all.

She slid down, laying on top of him and smashing her tits into his chest. Rubbing her nipples up and down, letting him rest for a minute. Then starting again with her fingers, feeling his body thrash with as much of herself as possible. Lying on top of him, trying to hold him down, enjoying the sensation of the muscles under his skin moving and rubbing against her. Wrapping her legs around his and feeling his body bounce them both around and jerk them from side to side.

“What was it he used to say? Hey-o Silver, away?”

Her teeth clamped down on his shoulder and she started running her hands up and down his sides, not stopping, watching his face as his jaw clenched, biting down into the latex column, his muscles jerking and twitching, his whole body moving in harder, but less frequent spasms until his back was arched with her lying on top of him, his body paralyzed, only the wet gurgling sounds coming from his throat proving he wasn’t a corpse in some horrible rigor mortis.

“God, I wish I could just keep you like this forever. Maybe I could inject you with polio, paralyze you and turn you into a tube fed cock for me to fuck whenever I felt like.” She stopped moving her hands, and felt his body gradually relax, the gurgling turning to sobs, tears running down his face, the sweat mingling on their bodies.

“Give it.” She jerked the cock out of his mouth, spit in it while he was still gasping for air, and jammed the base back into his gaping hole. “Good, you didn’t leave any teeth marks. Now, it’s time for your first reward. Think you can give me a good enough ride to earn the second?”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

Preview: We all have to make sacrifices. Tonight, I’m going to sacrifice you.

Psychologically Speaking

Found in the papers of a prominent 1950s psychiatrist, widely regarded as a ground-breaker in the field of conditioning, although generally viewed as questionable by current ethical standards. Appears to be a rough draft of a lab report or academic paper. It does not appear to have been published.

Abstract: This paper demonstrates the powerful influence Freud’s hypothesized Thanatos (death) and Eros (love) instincts can have upon individual behavior when coupled with traditional Pavlovian conditioning. Subject was conditioned to obey, suffer, and eroticize pain through being conditioned to associate it not only with the Eros instinct, but the Thanatos instinct. Specifically, subject was conditioned to take pleasure in the seeking, or desire for, the pleasure of another at the expense of his own pleasure.

Through careful building of endorphins during the sex act, subject has been conditioned to accept light pain. Smacks on the buttocks, bites, pinches, and “accidental” crushing of the testicles with the thighs have all contributed to the association of pain immediately before orgasm.

Subject has also been forced into an extremely rigorous sexual schedule through subtle appeals to male vanity. Subject has accustomed to, and it is hoped even addicted to, several orgasms per day. Orgasm, but not sex, will now be withdrawn for a period of days.

Subject is experiencing difficulty achieving erection without the presence of pain, demonstrating the validity of conditioning techniques. Subject can also sustain an erection for some time if the penis is stimulated while the subject feels pain. Subject does not appear to be consciously aware of this phenomena, but does demonstrate stereotypical male pride or shame in the duration of the sex act when questioned.

Subject has, finally, realized association between orgasm and pain. Has approached primary investigator carefully, asking about the possibility of pain and the orgasm being linked as “interest in her work.” Investigator has mentioned it is possible, but sexuality varies widely from person to person.

Subject professes to find the topic interesting, and “jokingly” stated they would be up to experimentation. Primary investigator stated they would consider it, but has reservations based upon ethical concerns.

Subject absurdly grateful at being beaten. Orgasm can appear to be delayed indefinitely, with subject brought to the edge and held there through the introduction of pain, but not able to achieve orgasm without at least some stimulation of the penis. Subject has stated that this is the best sex of their life, and has been conditioned to plead and beg for both orgasm and pain.

At this stage subject has come to view primary investigator as the sole source of sexual relief, and pain as a necessary prerequisite for “good orgasms.”

As subject’s tolerance of pain increases, he has been dispatched to buy implements to heighten this pain. Whips, crops, rubber hose, clothes pegs, belts. Subject seems to enjoy this activity, and has begun seeking out implements for their own torture without prompting.

With subject engaging in their own conditioning physically, it was felt that it was only necessary to actively further condition their desire for emotional pain. Subject was already open to the idea of restraint, and actively sought pain, which was used to move into the realm of restraint.

With subject restrained, objects began to be inserted into their ass. A bench and several good lengths of rope not only restrained the subject admirably, but left them in a defenseless position reminiscent of a four legged animal, for example a dog, cow, or pig.

Primary investigator is becoming increasingly convinced men will eroticize anything if it is done in the moment before orgasm. Subject appeared to feel shame at having achieved orgasm as two fingers were jammed in his anus, but did not note that it caused excessive discomfort or should be avoided in the future.

After sufficient trials of the above, subject actively seeks anal stimulation during coitus through body positioning and verbal pleas. Subject has also become engaged in their own emotional debasement. Subject has become entirely dismissive of vanilla sex, and will now place himself nude, on the bench, and bark to indicate a desire for sexual relief.

Primary investigator has encouraged subject to assist in their emotional suffering as they have in their physical suffering. For example, subject has sent to the store to buy a cucumber to be inserted into their anus. Subject came back with a moderately sized specimen, and was told it was insufficient. Subject was then told to return to the store, and buy two additional cucumbers, and a tin of Crisco.

When subject returned, he was given the choice of performing fellatio on one cucumber or having them both inserted into his ass simultaneously. Without further prompting, subject has begged to perform fellatio on the cucumber while being vigorously sodomized.

Subject has thoroughly been conditioned to associate his suffering with the pleasure of another now, and can be moved towards the final phase.

Subject had found interest in certain Victorian era restraints and medical equipment on their own, and was easily convinced to purchase a penis cage. This device locks around the scrotum, and prevents masturbation or erection through the simple expedient of preventing physical contact with the male genitalia; therefore, orgasm is impossible.

While the subject’s penis is locked within this cage, it can be supplied with as much pain as the physical and emotional psyche can withstand, without orgasm. Subject has been locked in this cage for two weeks now, and still craves physical and emotional pain despite knowing it may not orgasm while it is restrained within the cage.

Subject has been conditioned to associate its own orgasms with failure, and enjoys the desire of the orgasm far more than the actual act. Subject debases itself by kneeling and licking the primary investigator’s shoes, feet, and buttocks as a show of respect for the owner of their genitalia and orgasms.

Despite potential ethical concerns, the extremely important nature of this work has demanded that the primary investigator move the subject into the final phase of conditioning. Subject has been informed of the nature of the study, and that data gathering is over (somewhat falsely, the primary investigator must admit).

Subject has been offered the option of a return to conventional marital sexual relations, or permanent placement into the genital restraint device, with release entirely at the discretion of the primary researcher.

Similar Documents and Files:
Found in the papers of a prominent 1950s psychiatrist, widely regarded as a ground-breaker in the field of conditioning, although generally viewed as questionable by current ethical standards. Appears to be a journal. Possibly (likely) related to above document.

I’ve always been more intrigued by pain than pleasure, but never was sure how to tell anyone. Lately though, she has begun to inflict light pain in bed, and even though I should be able to talk about, I can’t. So I’ve been doing what I can to encourage her…

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

Going to try something new and add a preview of the next story to the tail end of the current one. Let me know if it works for you or not. I don’t really think there can be much of a spoiler for most of these (people fuck and stuff is pretty much the extent of my plots), but if it absolutely sucks… well, less typing for me.

Her teeth clamped down on his shoulder and she started running her hands up and down his sides, not stopping, watching his face as his jaw clenched, biting down into the latex column, his muscles jerking and twitching, his whole body moving in harder, but less frequent spasms until his back was arched with her lying on top of him, his body paralyzed, only the wet gurgling sounds coming from his throat proving he wasn’t a corpse in some horrible rigor mortis.


Hey all, just so you know I am writing again. Some stuff I’ll be submitting for anthologies, some stuff I’ll be putting up here, and some other stuff. I’m trying to build up a buffer before I go for a regular publishing schedule again, but in the mean time please enjoy the Anticipation.

“Okay, if I win this game, I’ll lock torture you and lock your cock up. If I don’t win, I’m going to play another game.”

“You’re serious?”

She looked at him, nodded, and went back to flicking across the screen.

“Well, shit. Are you winning now?”

“No, but it’s really close.”

“Can I help?” He started to stand up.

“No, then I wouldn’t have won the game on my own.”

He sat back down.

“Fuck.” She stabbed at the screen.

He sighed. “Did you lose?”

“Not yet.” She kept glancing over at him, frowned. “Go ahead and take your clothes off, and get me a glass of ice water.”

He shuffled off his clothes, kicked them into the corner, and walked into the kitchen. Filled a glass half full of ice, and added water. He imagined the ice tracing lines of cold pain across his body, would her hot breath go before or after those frigid trails? Would they disappear up his ass one by one, that horrible sensation of numbing cold from the insight out and violation? Or something else, something they hadn’t tried? Did she just want them to make his cock soft, so it would be easier to get the cage on? Were they punishment, or reward?

He padded back to her side, sat the glass of water down and tried to see the score over her shoulder-


He sighed, reached over and pulled out a coaster, hoping for a playful slap on the ass.

“Thank you.” She juggled her phone in one hand, took a sip, and put it back down. “Go, sit. You’re hovering. It’s a distraction.”

He walked back across the room, aware of his nudity, the slight breeze from the heater running across his skin.

She stared at the screen, stretched a leg. He swallowed hard, imagined chasing her boots back and forth, his tongue stretched out, following her foot like a marionette, jerked along by imaginary strings attached to the black leather. Spit rolling out the corners of his mouth, saliva running down his skin. The taste, smell, feel of the leather on his tongue.

She balanced her phone, scratched the back of her leg, tucked her foot under her other leg, and went back to the game.

He leaned back, watched her play, smiled slightly as the expression on her face changed back and forth from a frown of concentration to a grin and back.

She took a drink, swallowed hard as the ice swirled around the glass, and put it back on the coaster.

The skin of her throat rose and fall, he remembered being on his knees with her spitting mouthfuls of cold water on his hot, stinging skin. The rush of sensation, the cold that was a relief at first, and then another kind of pain.

Her spitting on him, forcing his mouth open and spitting down his throat, calling him a cheap whore. Warm spit hitting his face, her fingers rubbing across it, smearing it around, over, into his features, drying and turning his flesh sticky.

Her fingers slid across the phone, twitching back and forth. Email and text messages had played major parts in the long distance relationship, and he had often imagined what she looked like as they swapped messages back and forth. What was she wearing when he texted for permission to eat breakfast? Was she masturbating when she reminded him that his cock was locked up, and how many days before he would see her, to beg for it to be unlocked?

Then the fucking, her writhing under him, him clenching muscles to keep from cumming, panting and gasping as she moaned in ecstasy, cumming. Then being locked up without orgasming, ordered down to all fours like an animal.

Her fingers sliding in his ass, milking his prostrate, the hot burning sensation of her forcing the cum out of his cock, pooling at the tip and running out the plastic cage. The humiliation of cleaning it from the floor with his tongue, licking each bitter drop and swallowing.

She stretched her legs, arching her back and pushing out her breasts, still staring intently at the screen. His lips twitched at the thought of kissing between them, licking her nipples, alternatively biting and sucking along the base of each. Remembering the sounds she would make, moans and sighs, before pushing his face down between her legs, holding him there while he flicked his tongue and sucked on her clit.

Holding his breath as her legs clamped tightly around his head, holding him there as her hips thrashed and rolled.

His cock twitched and he shifted his legs, looking down. Looking back up, he saw her looking at him and grinning. Her head jerked back down to the screen, then at him, and she her shoulders bunched up as she laughed.

“Did you win?”

She set the phone down on the table, and took another drink. “Yes. About five minutes ago. Since then I’ve just been looking at shoes and watching your face. My advice is never take up professional poker as a hobby, because whatever you’re thinking is all over your face. And you’ve been thinking some very dirty thoughts, naughty boy.”

He blushed, and licked his lips. Thought about arguing the point, then shrugged and let it go. He didn’t mind anyway. “Congratulations on your latest triumph. Did you still want to…” He left the question hanging in the air between them.

She let it hang a little longer, then nodded. “Yes, I do. But first, I think I want you to come over here and tell me all those nasty things you were thinking about. We might even do some of them, if you’re very good.”

She turned the volume down on her phone, then took a long drink and set the glass back down. The ice clinked, and he noticed there was no water left in the glass, just cold shining cubes.

He walked over to her, wondering what she would do with them when he told her what he was thinking, and just how much she could read on his face.

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.


“Hm, what are you?” She pushed his face with small fingers, smooshing and distorting his features. The small horizontal line at the top of her nose appeared and her eyes narrowed. “Someone said that to carve an elephant, you just take a piece of marble and cut off all the pieces that don’t look like an elephant.”

He forced his hands to remain at his sides, trying to figure out when to hold his head still against the pressure and when to let her move it back and forth. “I think my peanut allergy makes me not an elephant, ma’am…”

She half-smirked, but her eyes didn’t lose their focus. “Tell me then. Tell me what kind of animals you think you might be, while I play with my cunt and see which one makes he hottest.”

He licked his lips, staring while she started rubbing her slit. “I’m… I might be a… dog ma’am?”

She wriggled her shoulders and settled farther back. “Details. What’s a dog like, pet?”

His weight shifted as his mind moved in different directions. “It’s kept on all fours by a humbler ma’am, with a collar and leash around its neck. It eats out of a bowl on the floor, and it has a tail it wags when its owner comes home, and licks her boots…”

“And when its bad?” Her fingers started to move faster.

“It has a muzzle put on, so it can’t lick your cunt, and it has to drink from the toilet, and it sleeps in a cage.”

“Interesting. What else might you be?”

He tried to think, focus on her cunt, and ignore his cock twitching and the pain in his knees all at the same time. “A cat ma’am, with a bell on its collar, and its cock locked up. With ears and a tail, and its cocked locked up. It’s only allowed to lick…”

He swallowed hard as she slid two fingers up and insider herself.

“Keep going.”

“Erm… I might be a pig ma’am, with a pig tail, who eats table scraps off the floor. It gets pissed on, and jerks off for you and your friends-”

“My friends too?”

“Yes ma’am, it wears a pig mask and jerks off for you and-”

She started rubbing faster. “How is your jerking off supposed to make us hot?”

His hips twitched involuntarily. “It jerks off but isn’t allowed to cum until it gets permission, and oinks and squeals to and does tricks until its allowed to come, and then begs to lick its filth off the floor…”

Her legs locked, and her body shuddered.

He leaned closer, and swallowed hard.

She smiled and leaned in closer as well. “What kind of animal are you?” She shoved her fingers in his mouth as he opened it, rubbing her wet fingers on his tongue. “It was rhetorical that time. I’m going to tell you what kind of animal you are.”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

A Little Further, A Little Longer

Her boot pressed down on the back of his skull, driving it into the floor. She watched his face roll from side to side, imagining his hair and skin filling up the tread. Balanced carefully she held him there, listening to his breathing and watching him twitch.

“Such a filthy fucking animal. Let me see your face.”

He rolled over carefully, shifting and rolling his hips, holding his ass up with his legs. Looking up at her with flushed cheeks and licking his lips, swallowing hard.

“You seem uncomfortable.” She had shown him the anal hook first, gloated about how it always got his full attention. Whispered in his ear how he flinched a little and his body posture became a little less aggressive, smaller. Having it pointed out made him self-conscious, and he shrank a little more. When she had tied his wrists to it, told him to keep it in or she would beat his brainless ass raw, he had jerked his hands up pulling it tight into his ass. His eyes were clamped shut until she told him to open them, and told him he was a good boy.

He’d smiled then, built up, and she’d torn him down a little more.

She could still feel the hunger deep inside her, and pushed back against it a little. Let it know she’d feed on him later… his cock driving into her when she had turned him into a mindless animal consumed by lust, or his tongue on her clit when he just another sex toy… later. Soon, but later.

For now he needed to be broken down, so he could be built back up. She had seen it before, knew the tics and movements. When he started passively following along, buying the same groceries every week, eating the same things for lunch. Stopped looking for new experiences and just went to bed early. Shrugged more and talked less.

So she smiled, and told him he had been a good boy and licked the floor clean, getting every crumb of dinner off the floor. And let him lick her boots, worshiping the toe and tracking his tongue along the laces, zig zag from side to side.

His eyes were closed again, and she smiled down, genuine warmth radiating out from her. Some part of him needed this, and so did some part of her. For now, she could wait. For him.

-Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

New Hard Limit

“All I’m saying is it really hurt.” Cosmo Brown was singing Make ‘Em Laugh as they sprawled on the couch with a bowl of popcorn between them, alternating bites.

She took a handful and put extra salt on it, munched it piece by piece. “You got off easy. I hold back because I don’t want to break you too quickly most of the time.”

He looked offended. “Oh come on, I’m hardier than that. Like we’ve done no warm up before, it hurts, but it’s survivable. You’re not going to break me right away, it takes quite awhile with the stuff you have.”

She looked back at him, and raised an eyebrow. “Hang on a second.” She rubbed salt off her hands with her jeans, and pushed herself off the couch. Went into the bedroom and came back with a small padlock clamped between her thumb and forefinger. “Do you want to see just how quickly I can break you just using this?”

He leaned forward with his eyes narrowed, cautious but curious. “What, shove it into my eye or something?”

The lock moved back in forth in front of him like a watch in the hands of an erratic hypnotist. “Nope, don’t need to. It’ll be safe, sane, and consensual, no permanent damage, I’ll follow all your usual limits, and I’ll respect your safewords. So do you really want to see how quickly I can take you down?” She waited patiently, knowing that he would think not knowing would be worse than whatever she had planned. “Just with this.”

“Okay.” He stood up and started to undress as she walked over to his computer.

“Hey…” His voice was hesitant as she flicked through programs rapidly, quitting them one by one and then shutting down the computer.

She turned to face him as the screen went dark. She reached down and pulled the plug out of the surge protector as he swallowed hard. The lock slipped through a small hole in one of the prongs on the plug, clicked shut, and she dropped it on the floor. “Well? No email, no newsfeeds, no music…”

“I knew I should have kept my CDs…”

She laughed a cold, mirthless chuckle and stretched her arms. “I think I might turn in early, if there’s anything you wanted to tell me before I go to bed, now would be the time. I hope I can remember where I put the key in the morning, I might not be able to find it before I go to work, and then I have to get the oil changed tomorrow…”

His lips pursed, but he nodded. “Fine, you win, I tap out. Red. Please set my computer free ma’am. Although if my phone had a better data plan I could have lasted until morning at least.”

She grinned and slapped his ass as she sauntered by him on her way to the bedroom. “The key’s by the mouse. See you in the morning.”

“See you in the morning.”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.


This story is based on an idea from a presentation created by my ma’am, Ava Amnesia. It isn’t available online, but if you’re interested in some of her other presentations they are available here. (NSFW, duh), and you’ll have to click through their adult disclaimer.

She looked back at him and frowned. “Well, I’d love to beat the snot out of you, but I’m tired. I slept like crap last night, and I’ve been dealing with apartment listings all day, so…” She grimaced and trailed off.

“Oh.” He pursed his lips, then nodded. “Okay.”

The tiny line above her nose that warned of a frown appeared. “Beating someone well is a lot more cardio than most people think, let alone the other stuff. I’ll get you a rug sometime, and…” The frown appeared. “Hang on, I just had a thought.”

She flipped open her laptop and started typing. “Come here.”

He stood up and moved behind her, resting his hands lightly on her shoulders and reading the screen. “Cardio workout video?”

“Yep.” She clicked through several selections before selecting one, hitting pause, standing, and pulling the chair along behind her and away from the desk. “Make it through the whole workout, and I’ll beat you tonight.”

“In this?” He moved his hands up and down, highlighting his jeans and sweatshirt.

“Take off whatever you want, just get started.” She leered, smirked, then leered again.

He pulled his jeans down, kicked them off, then stood on each sock and pulled them off as well. He kicked the clothes out of the way, and tossed his sweatshirt on the pile. She frowned at his back and picked up his clothes as a bad techno beat started, and he began to swing his arms, moving in time with the video.

She settled back on the couch, watching him follow the motions on the screen awkwardly at first, then settling into a rhythm. As the tape wore on his movements started to become jerkier and more erratic, his breathing harder and louder.

She slipped her pants down and started to rub her slit through her panties, leaning back further and purring as he forced himself to continue moving.

By the time the video clicked off, his chest was heaving and he was covered with sweat. Her own breaths were deeper and throatier, her panties wet and her shirt on the cushion beside her.

He stumbled over to her, rested his hands on his knees, and licked his parched lips. “Fuck that spandex clad video sadist. Give me fifteen minutes and a shower, and I’ll be ready whenever you are.”

She admired his trembling muscles, the legs barely able to support him, the deep breaths from his oxygen depleted lungs, and his flushed, sweaty skin. “Ha! Silly boy.” She stood up and grabbed a fistful of his hair, dragging him along behind her. “I’m ready right now.”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

Back and Forth

He craned his neck, trying to see what she was doing with his arms now. “Am I tied up yet ma’am?”

She pulled the rope through itself, clamping it in her teeth long enough to smack his ass. “No. Hold still.”

The refrigerator hummed in the next room.

“They usually don’t show this part in the videos. How long it takes to tie someone up with fancy knots and stuff.” He made himself stand still, trying to ignore the itching sensation on his bicep.

“Or put together one of those fancy bondage frames.”

“Or clean hardened wax out out of your belly button.”

“Or save up for a boob job.”


The refrigerator stopped humming, and the sound of a bass line started from the next apartment, thumping through the wall.

She pulled the rope tight around his chest and noticed his head shifting slightly, looking around at nothing in particular. “Your top is so lazy she orders her bottom to hit himself.”

His shoulders bounced as he snorted. “Your bottom’s penis is so small sex is needle play.”

“Your top is so CDO she insists the letters be in the right order.”

“Your submissive is so dumb he thinks his safewords are yellow and read… Eh, that’s read with an e-a-d. I think it would work better on paper.”

“I got it.”

“Because he’s afraid of books!”

“I got it.”

“Because he’s dumb!”

“Really, I got it.”


“Sure. Your top wears clothes so out of style that being seen in public with her is humiliation play.”

“Your bottom is so full of shit that enema play requires a special permit from the Department of Sanitation and a septic truck.”

“Ew, gross.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Your top is so well read she thinks furries are vengeance goddesses from Greek mythology.”

“What’s wrong with being well read?”

“She’s… not domly enough to make her bottom read for her?”

He shrugged. “I’ll allow it.”

She smacked his ass again. “Hold still. I’m almost done.”

“Your submissive is so hairy your floggers get rug burn.”

“Hush now. I’m going to start hoisting you up, I need you to tell me if anything is uncomfortable.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She took the slack out of the ropes, watching them tighten, and paused. “Your submissive is so obedient when his top told him to go to hell he renounced God and killed himself.”

“Thank you ma’am.”

“You’re welcome.”

-Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.


She let the jaws move closer together, almost snapping shut, then moving them back open. Pushing them into his flesh but never quite letting them close. “Sir, sir, may this useless slut please put another clothespin on your balls?” Her voice was a breathy exhalation, a Monroe whisper cranked up to eleven.

His body twitched and jerked against the restraints as he laughed, the clothespins already on his body bouncing and pulling his skin away at odd angles. “Ow, fuck, no you useless slut, and it hurts when I laugh already…” His gasps of laughter turned into a sharp exhalation as he felt tight jaws pushing the skin around the long vein on his cock together.

“Oh sir, this slut is sorry for being so stupid, she should have known to put it on your magnificent cock.” The word ended in a snort of her own laughter as she picked up another clothespin. “May this stooooopid, useless slut please put another clothespin on your balls now sir, master, most domly of dommes?”

He nodded and ground out a “Yes” from between clenched teeth.

“Oh thank you sir, thank you so much!” He could feel the clothespin moving from left to right, bouncing against the other pins already on him, left to right and back again. “Oh sir, this little cunt is so sorry she is just helpless without you to tell her what to do. Are you ordering her to put the clothespin on your balls?” She ran the end of the wooden jaws around the tip of his cock, letting him feel it and think about the potential consequences of his answer.

He pitched his voice as low as he could, and intoned carefully, reading her words back to her in a hyper-gendered male cartoon voice, “Yes little cunt, your domly domme is ordering you to put the clothespin on his balls.”

The jaws clamped down and they both gasped, him in pain, her in excitement.

She waited for the tension in his shoulders to disappear, then leaned down, her teeth biting down on his earlobe, worrying it, then opening slightly. “What should this little tart do now sir, she just doesn’t know, all her brains are in her pussy and tits, she needs an owner to tell her what to do so badly.”

He waited for her to stop, trying to think of the least painful alternative, then shrugged. “How about a blowjob?”

The laughter slipped out from between her lips, and pushed her cheeks up into a grin. “Oh master, thank you for letting this little slut be your cocksucker whore…” Strong fingers pulled his hair back and slipped the gag into his mouth, dropping his face back onto the pillow and tightening the straps around his head. “She promises she’ll make it a very long and very thorough blowjob…” His hips twitched and legs spasmed as she took off the clothespins… “And she doesn’t deserve your dommly cum in her slutty whore mouth, so she promises not to make you cum, and she’ll lock your cock up nice and tight so she doesn’t just impale all her holes one after the other on your cock because they’re so fucking hot for you…”

A fingernail carved a red line up his back until it reached his neck, then she leaned down to whisper in his ear again.

“And then we’ll see what orders you have.”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

Playing Games

“Five points?” Her lip pulled back in a sneer, then her eyes narrowed, looking from the board to the man seated across from her. “You’re throwing it. You’re totally throwing the game, aren’t you?”

He leaned back, shrugged, and grinned. “Ah… well, yeah. You can’t promise horrible sexy penalties for losing, and then expect me to want to win.”

She stood up and walked away.

When she looked back, he got up and followed. It was a “I want you to come after me walk away” and not a “You pissed me off I want to be alone walk away.”

She sat down on the bed and looked at him. He stood in the doorway until she looked away, then sat down beside her and put an arm around her shoulder. “What happened?”

She shrugged, and thought it over. “You weren’t trying, so I don’t want to play.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.” He twisted the apology around in his head until it sounded right. “I just really wanted to see what you were going to do to me if I lost, so I didn’t want to win. If you want to start over, I’ll try to win. Promise.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not just that. Give me a second.” This time he waited while she rearranged words and tried to describe what she was feeling. “Sometimes, I want to feel pampered and spoiled and I want you to submit to me, and give me things of your own free will because you love me…”

She pushed his head back down, gentle pressure sinking his face into the pillow while his body jerked and contorted. Her eyes moved from spot to spot, watching the beads of sweat jerk on his body as the muscles twitched. She licked her lips, and waited for him his breathing to slow back down. “Now, how many more do you think you can take?”

He felt her hand moving through his hair, petting him, calming him, while he tried to think around the pain and figure out a number. “Ugh, I think I can take ten more ma’am.”

Her hand moving away and the rush of air warned him it was coming, but his teeth still bit down hard on the pillow, hot wet air from his lungs pushing spit and pain out his mouth onto the cloth. Ten hard, rapid strokes swatted down on his ass, horizontal lines appearing one after the other on top of and in between the marks she already made.

Her fingers rubbed up and down her slit while he pushed his body up and down, desperate to do something with his muscles. She could see his cock bouncing and throbbing under him, and rubbed herself a little harder. When he stopped twitching, she slid her fingers along his lips, putting them in his mouth and leaning over to look him in the eyes.

When his eyes opened she slid her fingers out of his mouth and ran them through his hair again, speaking slowly and softly. “Now, tell me how many more you think you can take, because we’re going to keep doing this until you get down to zero. When you think you can’t possibly take another stroke without using your safe word whether you want to or not, you’re going to sit on that chair, and I’m going to ride your cock and look in your eyes and see how much more it hurts. I’m even going to let you come, after I do of course. But not until you’ve convinced me that you’ve given me every last ounce of pain you possibly can.”

She stood up, shifted her feet into a wide stance, and lifted the cane. “Do you love me?”


“Do you trust me?”


“Good boy, I love you too. How many strokes do you think you can take this time?

He pushed his face into the pillow, rolling it from side to side, trying to drown out the burning throbbing sensations in his ass. “Fifteen ma’am.”

“And sometimes I just want to be this tough as nails bitch who overpowers you and takes, no, not takes, more like rips, just reaches inside you and pulls whatever I want out of you because you can’t say no…”

He was naked and on all fours, locked in the humbler. She was staring down at him, in that hot detached place she found some time. He’d been walking around aimlessly, bored with the endless snow and weather updates, cooped up in the apartment too long. So she had taken away his clothes and his ability to walk, locking the two pieces of wood around his balls, reducing him to an animal crawling on the floor.

The leash and collar had taken the rest of the world away, his existence was a three foot radius circle around her hand, or whatever piece of furniture she looped the handle over. Now it was looped over the arm of her desk chair, pinning him in place while she walked back from the bedroom.

“I’ve decided you don’t need your sight anymore.” The bandage wrapped around and around, turning his vision into a soft white haze then nothing, just the feel of the cloth over his eyes. The collar jerked around his neck now when she moved, as he tried to follow the sound of her, bumping into walls and furniture, beating his knees and slapping his hands against the floor.

She looked at him following her, wondered what else she could take. Clipped a clothes peg on the nerve abundant skin at the end of her index finger, and sat on her haunches in front of him. “I’m going to take your ability to talk now. If you have anything to say, now would be a good time.”

He licked his lips and pulled in a deep breath. “Please ma’am, I really need to pee.”

The cold, detached place got a little bit warmer, a little harder. “Then ask me. Politely.”

He put his head down to the floor, and pitched his voice as softly as possible. “Please ma’am, may your thing piss before you take away it’s ability to talk?”

His only response was a sharp jerk on the leash and the sound of her footsteps moving away. She pulled him in closer, bringing his world in tighter as she navigated through the bathroom. She jerked him left and right by his throat, finally telling him “The shower is right in front of you. You can piss there, on all fours, just like an animal.”

He felt his hands move from the cold tile to rough fiberglass, crawling into the shower and shifting his hips as wide as possible.

“Wait.” She kicked his legs around, moving him to the angle she wanted to watch from, then licked her lips. “Now. Do it now.”

His cock twitched and piss spilled out, puddling and then running across the shower floor towards the drain. He could feel it splashing up his knees, then back further on his legs as the pressure lessened and the stream slowed.

When he finished, she jerked back on the leash and he carefully backed out until her hand in his hair stopped him. He felt the pressure against his skull, moving his face down until it hit the puddle he had made, dragging it back and forth, rolling it from side to side in the foul smelling liquid. It soaked into the bandage and he closed his eyes tighter, trying not to breathe in when his face his the deeper pools.

When he was coated to her satisfaction, she took a towel off the shelf and ran it through his face and hair. “I don’t want you getting piss all over my floor. Disgusting creature.”

The cloth moved away from his skin, and there were just traces of dampness on the bandage and crevices of his face. “Stick out your tongue.”

Wooden jaws clamped down and he remembered why they were here. One after the other they pushed into the flesh, hanging off his tongue, the weight a constant, unnatural tug. “Well, say something.”

“Shg flg md mnt.”

He could hear the soft snort that passed for her laugh when she got like this. “Much better.” She could keep taking, and he couldn’t say no, couldn’t run away, couldn’t even stand up. She looked down at him, and tried to decide where to start.

The leash pulled him along behind her, as she thought about what else she could take. His dinner, half eaten, was scooped up in a dustpan and thrown out because he was taking too long to lick it off the floor, and the clothespins went back on. His ass followed some time later, the plug shoved in deeply until the muscles cinched down around the base, locking it in. Plastic wrap taped around his hands, turning them into fists, had taken away his ability to jerk off. She had proven it by ordering him to make himself orgasm then kicking him in the balls every time he failed, watching him frantically rub his slick fists over his half-hard cock.

She had thrown a blanket over him as he lay on the floor, nothing left to give her. She had let him knock the clothespins off his tongue with his plastic-wrapped hands, so he could tell her “Good night” with something approaching normal speech. She crawled into bed and looked at all she had taken from him, knowing she’d give it back tomorrow. But not tonight.

She trailed off.

He nodded. “Okay. Thank you for telling me. I like both of those things, and I’ll try to be better about reading your moods, and knowing which you want. It would really help me if you could let me know, if you feel comfortable, or if that doesn’t ruin, make things not work…” He trailed off too.

They sat and leaned against each other for quite awhile, then got up and started playing again.

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

A Shade of Green

“So you don’t have a red room of pain?”

“No…  I have an olive closet… of shoes…”  She winced and smirked around a mouthful of breakfast.  “Though.”

Her companion’s face wrinkled around a mouthful of omelet.  “You’re making fun of me.  I just want to understand what it’s like.”

The exhalation was followed by an apologetic shrug.  “Well, I haven’t read the book, from what I’ve heard it doesn’t sound like what I like, but like I said, I haven’t read the book.  Besides, I like being on the other end of the crop, and I’m not a guy, so I really dunno.”

Their was the sound of forks scraping on plates and ice ratting in glasses while they both chewed and thought.

“Okay,” the curious one started, stopped, wondered if she was crossing a line, then started again.  “So just tell me what it’s like for you, and I’ll figure out for myself if it sounds like the book.”

“You really want to know what I get up to?”  It was blunt, direct, an interrogation and not a courtesy question.

The reply was more relaxed, more confident than the question had been.  “Yeah, I’m curious, and google isn’t cutting it.”

“OK.”  She took another sip of coffee, then a second.  “It’s kind of hard to explain though, it’s pretty complicated and sometimes I’m not even totally comfortable with it all.”

“Why would you do it if you’re uncomfortable?”  The words tumbled out hurriedly, eager now.

“Ever gotten a gift from someone that cost more than you know they should have spent, but it was something you really wanted?”

“Yeah, once.”

“OK.  Sometimes it’s like that.  I really want it, I know he wants to give it to me, I even know it makes him happy to give it to me, but it still worries me that I’m being a selfish bitch.”

“Christ, what do you do to that poor man?”  She snickered, then swallowed hard and looked down at her plate.

A shrug, it looked more nonchalant than it felt.  “Okay, look, this is what does it for me.  I’m just going to give you an example.”  Small white teeth clamped on her lower lip, tiny dents remaining as she set down silverware and put her hands on the table.  “He’s lying on his back in the bathtub, and I’m sitting on his sternum.  He can’t really breathe well.”

“Wait, why can’t he breathe?  Is he gagged or something?”

An eyebrow bounced and she noted the eagerness for details.  “No, if you sit on someone’s chest they can’t expand their lugs.  It’s like being short of breath, you can’t breathe very deeply, but you can still breathe.”

Nods back and forth across the table, and she continued.  “Okay, so I’m sitting on his sternum, punching him the chest, same spot, right in the meaty part of the muscle below his collarbone.  His back is against the tub so he can’t move back with the punch at all, and I’m just punching that spot over and over feeling him try to breathe underneath me.  So after awhile, his head starts rocking from side to side, then I can feel his muscles tensing and his shoulders bouncing, and his eyes are all squeezed shut as the water is sloshing around us and he’s breathing these really quick, shallow, gasping breaths.”

She paused to lick her lips, and her companion leaned forward.  “So that’s what it’s all about?”

A staccato shaking of the head, and she continued.  “No, I mean, it’s nice, but it’s kind of just foreplay.  I’m still punching him pretty hard now, in that same spot, and I can feel his whole body kind of convulsing under me, and he twists and kind of rolls his body so I can’t get at that spot very well.”

“Then,” she swallowed hard and nodded, “I put a little weight on my knees, and he takes one or two deep breaths, and flattens his back against the tub again, and opens his eyes, and kind of nods and smiles a little.”


“That’s what it’s about.”

Copyright Jerry Jones.  Unauthorized use is prohibited.


“You really think I can’t torture you with something you enjoy?”

He shrugged.  “Well, sure you could in some ways, like when pizza burns the roof of your mouth or you could drown me in pineapple and cottage cheese.”  He bit the tip of his tongue, mentally rehearsing his words, choosing them carefully.  “I guess what I’m trying to say is that it has to be something I don’t enjoy to qualify as sadism.  Even if I normally enjoy something, it has to be changed in some way to make me not enjoy it to qualify as sadism.  It’s practically the definition of sadism.”

“I disagree.”  Her smirk challenged him to keep arguing.  “And find your lack of faith in my sadism a little annoying.”  One eyebrow lifted and her head did a pair of slow rolls, mock offense in her voice.  “And I wonder if you would like to make a wager of it?”

“That you can torture me with pleasure without changing it to pain or something else?”  He spoke slowly.

She nodded.  “You will only feel pleasure, and you will hate it.”

He looked at the ceiling, thought through any possible loopholes, searched for angles while she dangled her foot, rocking her leg back and forth.  “And the usual limits?  No heroin or anything?” 

Her laugh turned into a snort.  “Yeah, no, I won’t be buying narcotics.  Normal limits and safewords and no felonies.”

“Okay, it’s a bet.”

Her feet thumped on the floor, and she ruffled his hair as she walked past.  The printer tray made a clunk as she pulled it open and counted five sheets of paper from the top of the pile.  She handed him the paper and a pen, went back to her chair and started typing on her laptop.  “Write five fantasies.  Five things that would give you shower jerkoff material for a year.  Just make them realistic, things that I could make happen in a scene.”  Her eyes locked with is over the top of the computer.  “No sex in space, movie starlets, or permanent changes to our relationships.  I think you can have it done by bedtime, but if not, no big.  You’ll just have to wait a little longer to find out what’s going to happen.”

He shrugged, settled into the couch, and started scribbling ideas, crossing words out, going back over scenarios.  Playing them out in his head, shifting on the couch, writing, reading, re-writing, re-reading.  Feeling his cock get hard, looking at her, imagining her doing the things he was describing on the paper to him, to herself.  Imagined having free rein with her body.

She had brushed her teeth and showered by the time he was done.  He met her in the bedroom, passed her the sheets of paper with a trembling hand.

“Good boy.”  She skimmed, grinned, and handed them back.  “Now, pick one, and I’ll make it happen.”  She pushed up against him.  “And the others won’t.  I’ll keep them around though, and read them to you like bedtime stories, just to remind you of what you didn’t chose.  So, do I win?”

He struggled for a second, trying to remember what she was talking about.  “The bet?”  He wanted to deny it, a small flash of spite that melted at her curled lip.  “Yeah, I think you do.”

“I always do.”

Copyright Jerry Jones.  Unauthorized use is prohibited.

Anticipation II

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.

Even Littler Submissions

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.


Thinking of making this into a series for another book, since I’m not actually done with the first book I started yet… seems like a good plan.

The chemical smell of glue in the air, words and letters cut from magazines and plastered to the paper, still a little wet. He held it in one hand and used the others to pull his shoes off, tossing his keys on the desk by the door.

WE have TAkeN HER. DO as OUR AGENT says OR ELSE. N0 C0PS, NO news.

A slim figure in black stepped into the room, face distorted by a clear mask, a toy voice distorter in one black gloved hand. A cell phone in the other, flipped open. “You’ll do as we say, or she’ll suffer the consequences.”

The grin forced itself across his face at the sound of the mechanical baritone coming from her mouth.

“You can start by shaving your pubic hair off. Bring it to me. Regular naked is too good for you.”

He nodded, forcing himself to match her seriousness. “Okay, okay, just don’t hurt her.” He moved around the edge of the entry hall, towards the bathroom. “What do I call you, anyway.”

The harsh metal echo clicked back to life, “We are the Malicious Abusers of All Men. Call us MAAM.”

He couldn’t stop himself from laughing a little, but stopped as her jaw shifted and tightened behind the mask. “Yes MAAM.”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

Chapter 1: Prologue: Setting the Scene

Stained glass saints watched impassively as her fingers slammed into her cunt before they were even out of the parking lot. The elastic band of her skirt pulled her wrist tight against her stomach as her fingertips pushed down between her panties and over short cropped hair, rubbing her clit, twisting and pulling skin, crushing the flesh between her fingertips and pulling, straining, twisting nerve endings around and around, back and forth. He swallowed hard and watched her from the driver’s seat, thick black coat across her lap hiding her hand. There was just the vague shape of her arm moving under the black cloth and her gasping lips, eyes clamped tightly closed and hips thrusting and twitching. She hammered her fingertips into her body until she finally slumped down in the seat and shuddered, breathing hard and looked over at him between half closed eyes.

He licked his lips and glanced at traffic, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Tried to keep his eyes on the road while watching her chest heave beneath her blouse with deep, ragged breaths. Tore his eyes away to scan for other drivers watching her carnal display. Watched her hand stop then looked up at her lazy, contented smile. “What the fuck was that about?”

“Ooooh…” Thoughts of him spending the next week on his knees suffering, wondering, doubting, trying to make the best of the bad situation she was putting him in washed over her, pushed her further into a warm, post-orgasmic bliss. She stretched her legs and leaned over to adjust the seat, pushing it back as she snuggled into the corner it made with the door. “Didn’t you like that scene? I thought it was delicious.”

One side of his face twitched, thinking of the raw, sensual pain of suffering for her and trying to reconcile it with the morning in church. “Let’s see: scratchy clothes, boring sermon, kids texting on cell phones, and women with too much perfume?” His shoulders rose up then down in a hesitant shrug, and he sighed a smirk at her. “I’m sorry, but my religious fetish doesn’t quite go that far.”

She savored his ignorance, teased herself, made herself wait to tell him, let her appetite build. Her tongue slipped across her lips and one hand reached back under her skirt, softly stroking her pussy, pushing gently over her wet lips. Her other hand reached down her blouse, fished a thin silver chain out from between her breasts. Her breathing got faster, and the links of the chain danced as her fingers twitched in anticipation. “What’s wrong with this picture, boy?”

His eyes widened and he jerked his head to check the traffic, then looked back at her and frowned an accusation. “There’s no key on your necklace ma’am.” Sudden hot desire and cold fear washed over him, an irrational panic and simultaneous thrill at the idea of the chastity belt locked around his cock being on forever, a keyless chunk of plastic keeping him from ever having an orgasm again. He pushed himself back down to reality, reminded himself of the spare key, tried to force the fear and lust down while his cock started to swell, pushing tight against the curved plastic it was surrounded by. “What happened to the key?”

Her mouth twisted up into a toothy, sadistic grin and she leaned over to tap between his legs. Her fingertip bounced on the plexiglass under his trousers while she imagined running him through his paces, getting off on his pain, suffering, and humiliation. “While everyone was praying I taped it to the bottom of the pew. There’s still the emergency key at home, but unless there’s an emergency, that’s my key… And I might let you out so I can use your cock, but there’s not going to be any orgasms for you involved. So even if I’m being a total whore, walking around naked, masturbating, shoving my tits in your face, putting on those boots you like so much, fucking myself silly and using every part of your body including your cock to get me off… Your dick goes back into the belt when I’m done with it, and if you want to get off, you can go get your own damned key.” She watched his shoulders tense, felt hot and feral lust rolling over her in waves. Her eyes met his, flat and cold, daring him to challenge her.

He looked away and shuddered at every word as she bit it off, pulling his chest forward tight against the steering wheel and crushing the hard plastic in his hands. Imagined the same scene “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He chanted the words like a desperate mantra, he prayed, tried to think of the eventual relief and not the time suffering. The rational part of his mind started to slip away, wrapped up in chains made of perverse desire, kicked off a pier into deep, silent waters where something deeper, more primitive, waited. Where cold reptile desires waited to wrap pain and humiliation around it and smother it in hard coils.

“Hey,” her finger flicked off his earlobe hard, again and again until he slumped back in his seat, exhaling hard. She smiled over at him, and winked. “No getting fuzzy while you’re driving.” Inside she purred, a slower but hotter passion than when she was jerking off earlier. The hot, sweaty feeling of owning him came over her. She knew he would go along with it. She had pushed a little, taken things a little further, moved the line of what was rational a few inches further away, and he had agreed to it. She had pulled one option for escape off the table, and he had joined her, became an accomplice.

He crashed back to reality, started thinking things through. “How am I going to get the key back?” He licked his lips, blinked his eyes and breathed hard through the tightening muscles in his jaws. The reality of the games they played in the dark set in, and he started to think about how to keep up vanilla appearances. Sometimes he wondered if the secret made it that much hotter, made it feel more illicit than it really was. Would anyone really care? Did part of him just kink on the people around him not knowing what he did at night? Of the boxes in the closet with rope and chains, floggers and gags. “I’ll have to wait until next week.”

She shrugged. “I don’t care. You could go get it now if you want, but someone might wonder why you came back. They might even ask, so I’d have a reason ready if I were you. And lying to a priest so you can jerk off… well, actually, that might be better than telling the truth.” She kicked her shoes off and lifted her legs, curling her toes under the warm air from the heater and wiggling them. “You know, that you’re a horny slut whose girlfriend keeps his cock in a cage so you’re sneaking into church so you can get a key and jerk yourself off. Laugh when you say it, maybe they’ll think you’re joking. Or you can wait until next week and try to put up with me for the next seven days, because this is already making me horny as fuck. And the longer you wait, the more likely that key will fall off or someone will find it and throw it away. Then you’re really fucked.” She smirked, let him think about it for a second. Let him try to decide which choice was less horrible. Let him try to pick the lesser evil, knowing the deck was stacked and she could make either course worse than the other if she wanted. Her tongue slid across her lips. “Because I’ll let you get off when you bring me that key, and not before.” She laughed and rubbed an imaginary mustache, a parody of cartoon super-villainy.

He could feel his throat tightening at the thought of being completely at her mercy for seven days. Or longer. Knew he’d sink further the longer he was locked in his chastity, become more willing to suffer for the promise of an orgasm dangled in front of him, even if he knew she wasn’t going to allow him one. Wondered if she would be pissed if he got the key right away. No, she was fine with a struggle, seemed to enjoy it more actually. Anyone could top a doormat, and they both enjoyed the game, seeing how far ahead the other had planned. Seeing how much they had prepared. He slid across the lane and into a strip mall parking lot, the driver behind him honking and slowing down. “I’ll tell them I lost my cellphone if they ask.”

She laughed, enjoying his flustered blustering as he turned and pulled up to the exit, remembered to signal this time. “Good idea, maybe they’ll even help you look. If they do, you make sure and tell me how it feels to be so close to that key, standing right there, and not be able to get it. Oooh!” She bounced up and down and clapped her hands in mock excitement. “Maybe you could pretend to check under the pew and grab the key to your cock when you stand up. Maybe they won’t notice.” She grinned. “Or maybe they will. I was nice and used good tape so it probably wouldn’t fall off, but that would make it hard to get off quickly as well, wouldn’t it?” Her face got hard as she licked her lips. “It’d be worth you getting it just on the chance you were down on your knees, looking under the pew, and you could actually run your fingertips across it but couldn’t work the tape loose before you thought someone might notice what you were doing, and you stood up without it. To actually feel it right there, and have to walk out into a week of the things I’ve thought up… I’m soaking my panties thinking about it now, but watching you walk over there, trying to figure out exactly where I was sitting, wondering if you’ll see that key but it will be just a little too far away for you to reach…” She inhaled and smiled at him, licked her lips and watched his shoulders to see which way he was going to go. Reveled in the cold feeling of a predator who has let its doomed prey see it after a long stalk.

He thought about all the scenarios she had laid out, knew she was trying to scare him into the irrational choice. Bu there was the lingering thought, would he panic and chose to make sure his dirty secrets stayed secret if he thought they might figure out what he was really doing? Would they know he was lying, but not know why? What sort of rumors would be going around next week? Would they guess? How long would he obsess over their conversations, searching for the double entendre, wonder if they knew? His breath got harder, condensing against the window and fogging it over as a car pulled up behind them. “Shit. Next Sunday you drive while I jerk off, ok?” He sighed a resigned grin at her and flicked the turn signal back the other direction.

Laughter broke around her fingers as she sucked them lewdly. “Fuck that. You sitting there with that key in your hand the whole time, holding it, praying while all you can think about is unlocking yourself and playing with your cock? I’m going to have a hard time waiting until we get to the car. And if I drive, I decide when we leave, and we’re sure as hell not going to get there early.” Her eyes half closed, and she let her mind wander to the days and nights that would lead them back to this point next week. Absentmindedly her hand wandered over to pet his hair, stroking softly.

His head leaned into her hand as she kneaded his hair. He settled into a warm comfort with her, the cold outside the car blocked off, the slow plod of traffic a steady march they were on together, in no hurry to get anywhere but where they were. It was warm and comfortable, easier to ask her than think. “Why would we want to get there early?”

She chuckled and turned down the heater, primly rearranging her skirt and coat. “Well, you might want to make sure we sit in the same place…”

Shoulders slumped and he smiled at her after a drawn out, shuddering breath. “Yeah, I’ll drive ma’am.”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.