I live and write BDSM. Age 18+. Scarleteen is great for under 18.
Please enjoy this exerpt from "Absolving Amy":
“Amy, I have to warn you, right now, that I am not a normal boyfriend. You need more than a protector. You need a Daddy to watch over you, to spoil you and also to keep you in line. I'm just the man for the job. In my relationship, I am the one in charge. This means I am going to take really good care of my baby girl. It also means I'm going to hold you accountable for your actions and the choices you make. When you are a good girl, Daddy is going to reward you and spoil you rotten. When you are a bad girl, Daddy is going to punish you as he sees fit to correct the behavior. I'm going to punish you so that the next time you have to make a similar decision, you look back on it and think, do I want to upset my Daddy? Do I want to see the disappointment in his eyes and feel it on my butt? As your Daddy, I will always give you what you need and a lot of what you want.”
Amy Johnson’s life is a series of bad luck mixed with worse decisions. One of those bad decisions was homicide detective, Ben De Luca. He is sexy, stern, and everything she could ever want, but her past forces her out of his bed and from his life. That is, until she finds herself in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now, she has no choice but to submit to his presence in her life.
Will she accept Ben’s protection and open herself up to his love, or will she allow the walls she has built around her heart to force Ben out of her life, for good, this time?
Publisher's Note: This action-packed romance contains graphic scenes as well as power exchange themes. Please do not read it if this offends you.
RJ Gray started writing at the age of five when she won her elementary school’s story contest. Her writing has evolved from short stories about unicorns to books about dominant alpha males and feisty, stubborn females. RJ holds college degrees in both social work and criminology, topics that can often be found in her novels. She has spent the past fifteen years the wife of an Army bomb technician and as such, she has a passion for military and veteran causes. RJ lives in Virginia with her husband, two young sons and their recently rescued beagle-lab puppy.
RJ loves hearing from her readers. You can email her at AuthorRJGray@gmail.com She is quite the social butterfly and you can find her on the internet on her Facebook Page, Amazon, Instagram, Bookbub, GoodReads and Twitter. Another way to keep up with her is by subscribing to her newsletter.
As I promised yesterday, here's a snippet from one of my Ageplay-related WIPs. A possible blurb:
My Master Daddy and I don't celebrate most holidays already in existence. I asked for us to try a year of holidays created by me. Twelve different holidays that fit our unique relationship and personalities.
Spankymas- the two days between Shaman's and my birthdays
“Daddy,” I call out while holding a pony, drawing out the d's in the middle, “I has an idea for something fun for the year. Are ya game?”
Daddy rolls his eyes. “So being a Little means messed up words to you? I thought we agreed to no lisping.”
“I didn't lisp when I asked are ya game, Daddy.” I kneel in front of him in his big recliner chair. “Are ya? Are ya?”
“What's your idea? I hope it doesn't cost a lot.”
“We make a year of new holidays. One a month, Daddy. Things we like better than established holidays that give us bad memories.” I bat my eyelashes at him as I look at his face. “Like since your days off fall on the day after your birthday and the next, we'd have the those two days to have Spankymas, to link our birthdays.” I nod with what I hope is a serious expression. I fall back onto the ground, narrowly missing his computer, as I burst into giggles.
Daddy reaches down to grab me by my collar.
“Daddy, Daddy! I said the day after your birthday!” I yelp as I find myself falling across his lap and grabbing the side of his chair so I don't knock a bunch of stuff to the floor.
“If I'm your Daddy, I think I can spank you whenever you're being a brat. And that's most of the time you're awake.”
“Owwie!” I'm gonna stay Little and not have my brain go wonky into enjoying the spanking. I swear!
“Do I have to take you to bed and spank you there so you remember you enjoy it?”
“Maybe, Daddy.” I grin and bat my eyelashes again.
“Spankymas. You got a few weeks to think on this.”
Come back next Wednesday the 20th to enjoy some of Februarys's holiday.
(There are several clickable links in this post, only one of which goes to a book for sale, which is a friend's book, rather than my own.)
I'm so ready for spring- I'm in Michigan and I fell on ice three times on Sunday. Not bad enough to go to the ER, but I'm certainly achy. Of course, as I sit to write, I'm also trying to balance inspiration music, my daughter yelling as she plays on her PC, and my cat purring behind me.
I may not manage updates in the order I mentioned in my title :D While doing a bunch of updating to my website (check out especially my About & Contact page), I spent some time making changes on my Vala's Story page. You see, I've been pondering publishing again. Vala's Story is really my “book baby.” I didn't write it to fit any tropes or genre expectations, but to tell the story I want to tell. And so I want to self-publish it still. I did some major rewriting to books 1 through 3; books 4 through 9 are waiting their turns. They are available in a previous edition on Amazon and B&N, but I don't share those links anymore. I haven't set it up yet, so it's not live for readers to see, but Weebly sites include a store. I'm thinking to sell Vala's Story in some sort of collection before I go about making the current edition available on other retailers. I was also thinking to share longer bits of it through my Patreon page before the books are ready; did you know I have a Patreon page?
My writing topics and the sorts of characters I write about has always been all over the place; I've intentionally worked to write diversely, including learning more about many subjects so I wouldn't create stereotypes rather than full characters. I still have dozens of novels started- Vala's Story is far from being alone on my computer- but my current interest is totally in Ageplay. It started with Pepper North's “Zoey.” I've always been interested in ageplay a bit, even wanting to include some stuff in my relationship with my Master- who's let me know that “Master Daddy” is okay, but not “Daddy Master.” I have 2 WIPs currently focused on Ageplay; if you come back tomorrow, I'm going to share a snippet from “A Little's New Holidays.” I haven't written a blurb yet- I'm not even finished the first draft yet. However, it follows my Master Daddy and I through a year of holidays personalized to us and our relationship. While ageplay is a significant part of the book, other pieces of BDSM that we engage in are also present, including graphic sex scenes.
Hm, other updates? Page updates? Check. Vala's Story? Check. Ageplay? Check. Oh, and there was the Patreon mention. I don't usually have graphic pictures of myself on my page- although I did tease my Daddy with a boob shot over Messenger the other day while he was at work. Oo, pictures, that leads me- I found out that Chrome has an extension that allows you to upload to Instagram while on a PC so I'll be active on my IG again. Woot!
This morning (Sunday), I visited a church I used to be a member at; I had the moment to talk about chest binding and paternalistic male plastic surgeons. That to say that the inspiration picture wasn't intriguing to me. Instead, I wanted to share something that happened recently...
“Quickie before gaming, Master?” I lift my shirt enough to show off my wiggling, naked butt.
“Really? When I'm this close to leaving?” Master laughs.
“You can use me like a fucktoy, Master.” I turn around and he pushes me onto the bed.
He drops his jeans to the floor and steps out of them. He grabs my calves and throws my legs up on his shoulders.
In this moment, I remember my chest binder beneath his shirt- he still wants me.
He thrusts into my cunt.
I am more woman than man right now.
His thrusts are fast.
I squeeze and release my cunt muscles around his cock. I take a fluttering breath as his pubic hair pushes against my masculine vulva. The shuddering breaths become grunts as I feel the spirals of pleasurable climax in my clit and cunt. “Ca-ca-ca-” I stutter.
“Come, slut.” Master slaps my cheeks lightly, pushing my orgasm higher.
My gaze shoots back and forth over Master's face.
His eyes squeeze shut.
“Fill me! Please!” I cry out, my lungs to tight to scream.
He grunts and stills before rolling onto the bed beside me. “I hate to fuck and run-”
“But guys are waiting to play Guild Ball. Love you, Master.”
“Love you, brat.” Master pushes to the edge of the bed to grab his underwear and jeans.
I grin at my cum-filled cunt.
What does a smut writer do when he's missing all inspiration and motivation? I don't wanna list what I tried. The inspiration picture was interesting, but then my thought was to consider Kayla's comment and then I couldn't manage anything but “How many times I can I deal with a cock?” Then a reader commented that she found this article about muffing interesting and I couldn't say when I wrote about muffing before so I sat to write. Audrey told me to write about someone other than her.
Joanna pressed her face against the cool, inner wall of her apartment. “What a day,” she muttered. A knock at her door startled her. “Just a moment,” she called out before scurrying to her door. She took a quick look through the peephole.
“I know you're there,” Michel cooed.
Grinning, she opened the thick wooden door to let him in.
“Love.” Michel gave her two quick air kisses, his lips just barely touching her soft skin. He pushed the door closed. “My love.”
“Such a sweet.” Joanna wandered ainto her bedroom, Michel trailing after her. “A guy at work was offering me a new job.”
“Oh?” He sat on her bed near the pillows.
She slipped out of her red pumps and pulled her nylons off. She reached under her tight lemon yellow dress. “At a sex toy shop.”
“You'd be great! Think of all the teaching you could do!”
“Or I'd just be more frustrated than I already am.” She pouted and crashed onto her bed.
He placed his hands on the hem of her dress. “You don't have to be frustrated right now.”
“Help with your fingers and tongue.”
“My pleasure.” He eased her g-string down to her knees. As she pushed, he eased her testicles out of the inguinal canals.
She groaned as he slipped the tips of his index fingers over her skin. “Oh, yes.”
His fingers pressed into the smallest of indents before he eased them further into her pockets. “I'm so glad you taught me how to finger you.” He looked up at her next groan. Wrapping his mouth around her cock, he lifted his gaze to her fingers pinching her nipples. He pressed his fingers deeper into her, both hands moving with short thrusts. He wiggled his hips, his own cock hard in his leather pants.
“Coming, coming,” she muttered with her head rocking back and fort against her pillow.
He hummed and sucked hard on her cock.
“So good, but no jizz yet.”
He kept up his fingering and sucking. He moved his chin against her shaved scrotum. His fingers still fucking her, he pulled his mouth off her cock. “So what's your pleasure?”
“I wanna finish this orgasm.”
He sucked on her more, his tongue working on circumcised head. He moved in his fingers in circles in her canals, the rest of his hands gripping her hips as she started to buck against him. He breathed in as her body spread out with her release.
“One hand, grab my balls,” she grunted.
He eased his left finger out of her canal and squeezed her balls in one hand.
Her feet pressed into the bed and her cum shot into his mouth.
His cock throbbed against his pants in response to her pleasure and he smiled around her cock as he worked to swallow her cum. He lifted his mouth slowly, swallowing as he went. He kissed the tip of her cock. “Thanks, love. Feeling less frustrated?”
“Yeah, for a bit. You come up here.”
The inspiration picture from Little Switch Bitch made me think of ageplay. Don't ask LOL.
Baxter sat on his Mommy's bed far enough from the edge that his legs hung off without touching the floor. He clutched Bunny Bear to his chest as Mommy got ready to go out.
“Now I got a babysitter for you from the ageplay club so you'll be able to stay my adorable baby boy,” Mommy said.
“Yay,” Baxter murmured.
“That's my boy.” Mommy pressed a soft kiss to Baxter's forehead, leaving the sticky feeling of her scarlet lipstick on his skin. She quickly wiped it off with her licked thumb. “Come here, my boy.” She picked him up before he could fall off the bed and tucked him on her hip. “I'll get you set up in your playpen.”
“Love you, Mommy.” He pressed his face against her neck.
“Love you too.” She continued into their living room and set him on his soft sleep mat inside his play area. “Do you have a wet diaper?”
“No, Mommy.” Baxter swallowed.
“Your babysitter will be able to change it if you make a wet one while she's here.”
The doorbell announced, “Mommy is busy. Count to five before pushing the bell again.”
“Yay!” Baxter clapped his hands together. He rolled onto his side on his mat and then closed his eyes. Feminine voices floated through the air to him, some Mommy and then another woman.
From beside his playpen, Mommy said, “Baxter says he doesn't have a wet diapie. If he feels the need to stretch his legs, you can let him out of his playpen awhile, but he knows that he isn't supposed to leave the living room without an adult.”
“Do you have a set punishment if he breaks that rule?” the woman asked, encouraging Baxter to open his eyes.
“Of course.” Mommy smiled at Baxter. “Ten spanks with a hand on his diapered bottom.” She leaned over to pat his head. “Baxter, this is Ms. Pod, your babysitter. Behave and stay in role with her until I get home.”
“Yes, Mommy.” Baxter stuck his thumb in his mouth and waited on the adults.
The front door opened and closed.
Baxter looked around for his blankie and caught the purple edge to pull it to him.
“Do you need anything, you tired-looking little guy?” Ms. Pod asked.
“Milky, please?” Baxter asked.
“I'll be right back,” Ms. Pod sang out.
Baxter scooted until he rested against his sit-up pillow, silk-screened with his favorite cartoon characters. He listened for the sounds of bottle warming from the kitchen. He reached lazily for the sound board beside him. As he jabbed the honking button, he filled his diaper. He giggled as he moved through the row of buttons.
Ms. Pod glided over the carpet some time later. “Are you ready for milky?”
He made a small sob. “Ms. Pod, I wet my diaper.”
“Can you crawl to your changing table, baby?”
“Yes'm,” Baxter murmured.
Ms. Pod pulled open the gate on his playpen.
Baxter shot through the opened gate, but slowed down to a more reasonable crawl after a few feet. When he reached the junction of the kitchen and the rest of the house, he turned toward the kitchen.
“Stop!” Ms. Pod barked.
Baxter fell back on his shins.
“There is no changing table in the kitchen. Why'd you turn that way?”
“See if you realized?” Baxter answered truthfully.
“You were trying to go somewhere without me?”
His face hot, Baxter nodded.
Ms. Pod undid the snaps of his onesie. She held up the top flap while with her other hand, she started with the spanks.
“Oh! Your hand's harder than Mommy's,” he cried out. He locked his elbows so he didn't pull away from his punishments.
“And now your milk is getting cold because you decided to test me.” She increased the force of the last few spanks.
He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain.
“Continue on to your changing table,” Ms. Pod ordered.
As always, it was tricky to crawl with a freshly punished butt. The hallway seemed twice as long, even though he quickly reached the nursery.
“Would you like me to lift you up to the table, little boy?"
“Please, but I stand first to help,” Baxter shouted.
“Oh my, that wasn't an inside voice.”
“Sorry, Ms. Pod.” Baxter unsteadily reached his feet and held out his arms to Ms. Pod.
Ms. Pod grasped Baxter's small hips and lifted him to the dark green changing pad. “Lay back, good boy.” She paused beside the table. “Now I see that you're wearing a disposable diaper, but your Mommy paid me extra so I would bring one of the reusable diapers I make.”
“Yay! Thank you, Ms. Pod.”
She ripped the sides of the diaper and whisked it away from him. With a moist towelette, she wiped his penis, thighs, and bottom. “Roll onto your stomach.”
Once he was in position, he smelled the Vitamin D ointment and then bit his lip. He let out a hiss as her fingers spread the ointment over his skin. He carefully turned back over when she touched his hip.
“Ahhh!” he cried as his bottom pushed down on the plastic.
“Now, now, that was a spanking over your diaper. Your skin was hardly pink,” Ms. Pod shushed him. She rubbed ointment over his inner thighs and then sprinkled a gentle layer of powder over his penis. She moved to his feet and leaned over to pick something up. “These go up over your feetzy.” She started to pull the cloth diapers up his legs.
“Oh! Thanks, Ms. Pod! I likey my new diaper.” Baxter clapped his hands together as the dinosaurs came better into his view. He lifted his hips to help her pull the cloth comfy-ness into place.
“And we'll try the return trip without you being a bad boy. I'll reheat your milky once you're safely in your playpen.”
“Thanks, Ms. Pod.”
Over on Facebook, I'm an admin for the Spanking Ficton Readers and Writers group. Wanting to get us talking about writing and sharing our writing, I offered a writing prompt. I decided to take some time from my WIPs to attempt the prompt myself.
Two dirt-poor art students survive by sharing a nasty little apartment above a bodega. They struggle through four years, barely making ends meet, comforting one another through tragedies and triumph, but never openly admit how they feel about each other…until they graduate, and one of them gets a job in another city. Is it too late to confess their love?
The stench washed over them, blue hair and purple hair.
“Here's the $30 down,” Timpany said.
“Move in now, if you want. I ain't got no money to clean it up first,” the landlord said.
Rela set hir bag on the floor. “It'll work. Thanks.” Ze closed the door behind the fleeing landlord.
“That's done.” Timpany relaxed onto the floor with his legs spread apart. “First class tomorrow at noon.”
“Yeah. And we're doing it without our families' support.”
“Right you are.” Timpany turned onto his side and closed his eyes.
Rela stood up with blue hair falling all around them. “Fuck yeah. New start.” Ze wandered onto the shower tiles and turned on the water. Fast rinse to push the hair to the drain, ze hurried through the cold shower. “Damn broken water heater.” Ze shook off the water.
The door opened and Timpany walked in. “You get a bad grade again?”
“I was gonna show my parents.”
Timpany wrapped his arms around the dripping wet Rela. “You can still show your parents. It's one bad grade. Just one.”
“What you get on the project?”
“B,” Timpany said.
“Shit.” He continued to hug hir. “Look, I scored us some ramen. Let's eat.”
Ze noticed a towel and grabbed it. “Dry enough.” Half-watching around the towel, ze relaxed into Timpany's care.
Pot on the hot pad, he ripped open two packages of ramen and poured the noodles into the boiling water.
“I'm laying.” Ze dropped down onto the futon.
“Shaved head's a cool look,” he called out.
“Another year of classes. Why are we doing bachelor's rather than associate's?” Timpany looked up from his sketch pad to watch Rela scrubbing the inside of their only window.
“Because we live in this shithole so we can get the slightly more impressive fine arts' degrees?”
Timpany snorted. He pulled his blanket up his lap and readjusted his sketch pad.
Gun shots sounded and Rela dropped to the floor moments before a bullet smashed through their window.
“Okay, going to tell Miranda. Don't clean up the glass, just our other stuff.” Timpany jumped to his feet and pulled a red dress that reached his ankles. He hopped across the floor to miss any broken glass, pulled on his flip-flops, and hurried out the door. He practically flew down the stairs to the bodega and stopped in front of the counter, trying to catch his breath.
“Yeah, Tim?” Miranda asked.
“Sen...senora, our window was broken by those gunshots.”
Miranda sighed. “Put a plastic bag or something over it. I'll see if I can get a cheap enough window.”
“Gracias.” Timpany rushed back up the stairs. Just inside the door, he said, “Fucking hell! Plastic bag or something! I should have known better. She's not coming to look.”
Rela looked up from hir tidying. “You tried to do the right thing, as far as we were raised to think it.”
“You mind getting all the glass up so I can finish this drawing? It's due tomorrow?”
“No problem. And then I'll get a garbage bag over the window hole.”
Gazing at his drawing for a long moment, he started to sketch a pistol in the upper left corner.
“Fuck, I'm cold!” Rela placed another garbage bag over the window and applied liberal amounts of duct tape.
“At least we're in New Mexico,” Timpany responded. He placed his sketch book on the floor. “Why don't you take a break and we'll cuddle. That'll warm you up.”
“You're naughty.” Still ze crossed the room, dropped their jeans to the floor, and then relaxed between his legs before he covered them both with the heavy, new blanket he'd found in the lost and found room at school. “You may be from the frozen north, but I'm from Brazil. This is frigid to me.”
“It's okay. Aren't you feeling warmer already?” He rubbed his hands against hir arms rapidly.
“Yeah. This is good. How's your classwork going?” Ze rested hir cheek on his chest.
“Lots of papers in this class. Freaking art history! But it feels good to be learning, especially since this is focused on art outside the Western, white male canon. You know, sometimes seeing people who look like me in the textbook?”
“I get you. I'm loving my sexuality in art class. All the extra reading material the prof suggests is way cool. Radical sexuality and politics.”
“That must warm your funky, little heart,” he teased.
“Shush your rotten mouth.”
“You know you like it.”
Ze turned to look at his sketch pad. “What's this you're working on? If it isn't for a class?”
“Oh, it's for a class, just not the art history one. Well I already had it started, but it fits an assignment.” He studied his drawing with hir. “A fantasy, something I'm not sure is an experience I could ever have.”
“I like it.” Ze closed hir eyes.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Rela screeched, a piece of paper in hir hands.
“What?” Timpany closed and then taped a cardboard box.
“The advertising company in Arizona that I wanted to work for said yes. They'll even help some toward my student loans.”
“That's great.” Timpany looked at the floor and moved to some last things of theirs needing boxed.
“What?” Rela moved in front of the box and grabbed Timpany's hands.
“I.” He dropped a sketch pad into the box; it fell open to show the picture of his fantasy from a few months before. “I mean, do you.”
Ze traced the lines of the nurturing figure without actually touching the paper.
Ripping his hands away, he turned to grab the paperback from the worn down futon mattress they'd agreed to leave behind.
“Adult babies?” Rela murmured. Ze flipped slowly through the dog-earred book, pausing to read and study various pictures and passages. “Do you want to be my baby?” Ze looked up quick to his face.
“I was too scared to ask. That you'd think me weird. That you might not.” He swallowed. “Love me.”
Ze flopped down on the futon. “Pants down and across my lap.”
Once he was in position, he murmured, “Love?”
“I was waiting for you, silly goose. I love you too. And since you almost waited until I was gone, I'm going to spank your butt with the book and then you'll start loading your stuff into my car.”
“Your Per loves you very much.” Ze brought the paperback down on his butt hard enough that it made a crisp smack five times before pulling up hir pants. “We'll have awhile on the road to take about this.”
“Yes, my love, my Per.” He sighed and burst into movement.
(Continuing from 12/24; this is part 2. It's still Audrey, Blaze, and I.)
I cling to Audrey as she scoots us a few inches closer to Blaze. “None of us are cis.”
“How does that make you feel?”
I lift my gaze to Blaze's face and then it drops to their hands. “Um. How should it make me feel? No. Curious. Interested. Good. Different. I'm a thesaurus.”
Audrey laughs at my last statement. “Now, now, little love. Are you forcing eye contact with Blaze that you find uncomfortable?”
I shake my head. “Not at all. They're responding like you or Amy would, not forcing me to maintain the contact longer than I'm comfortable with.” I press small kisses to Audrey's jaw and close my eyes. “I'm working on owning my feelings and remembering that most people aren't unsafe like my mother.” I swallow. I open my eyes. “Most people aren't unsafe like my mother.”
“That appears to be a good thing for you to affirm.” Blaze nods. “Parented differently?”
I giggle. “Good memory. Because even adults sometimes need their parents' support.” I look down at Blaze's hand on the couch. “Please hold my hand.”
Blaze's long fingers wrap around mine.
“Your hand makes mine look so tiny. I like it.” I brush my thumb across Blaze's palm. “I like you.”
“I like you too.” Blaze smiles at me. “Are you still good with talking?”
“Yeah, but thank you for asking. It's good to be reminded that you're open to communication other than just spoken.”
“I particularly enjoyed watching how you used various types of AAC in your Autistic love story, including during intimate moments.”
“Per, Audrey? Might I please lay across both your laps?” I breathe in deep to calm my rapid heartbeat.
“I would love that. Twelve isn't too old for cuddles, in my opinion.” Blaze squeezes my hand before releasing it.
I ponder movement and my body's potential placement. I scoot so my upper back an head are resting on Blaze's... Per's lap. My butt rests between my loved one and love-one-to-be. My legs rest in part over Audrey. I turn my knees so I can tuck my feet behind her back.
“And we have an adorable boy covered back up with his blanket.” Per tucks the blanket around my neck.
Per strokes my hair. “It appears that Audrey is having adult thoughts about an adult Joey.”
I glance at Audrey's eyes, those beautifully rich brown eyes, and see the haziness of which Per speaks.
“You know the adult Joey can consent to Audrey, if he wishes?”
“Consent?” I feel my eyebrows and forehead pull tight as if asking a WH-question in ASL.
“You can ask her what she wants and you can say yes or no.” Per leans forward to drop a small kiss on my forehead. “Of course a twelve-year-old can't legally consent in most of the US and I prefer to separate adult interactions from ageplay.”
“Separate how?” I feel Audrey's hand on my knee, but still above the blanket.
“It depends on the moment. Do you feel safe with part of you on my lap and part on Audrey's? Is that enough separation for you as well?” Per moves their arm so it supports the back of my head.
“Yes, Per.” I snuggle my face against Per's plaid-shirt covered belly.
Audrey caresses my knee until I look at her face. “Joey, I would like your verbal consent. To hear your sweet words. To hear you confirm that what I want is what you also want.”
I focus on my swallowing, the substantial being of Per with us, underneath me. “Yes or no? That's what I was missing when I was thirteen. No one had told me I had a choice.” I close my eyes to affirm Per's spoken truth inside me. “Audrey, had I told you yet--“
“Yes, I heard your thoughts, love.”
“Please help me find my masculine vulva and vagina. Please touch me in the ways you need to help me affirm that.” I look up at Per. “But Per, please help me put on a chest binder first.” I ease my legs from Audrey's lap and to the floor.
When I pause, Per says, “Look to the floor.”
I turn my head away from Per; a new black chest binder lays on the floor a few feet from us. “A new binder, Per?”
“Something my boy needs, right?” Per grins at me.
“Thanks, Per.” I struggle to sitting upright with Per's hand pushing on my back. My feet touch the floor as I look down to see Per's hands in the air beside my hips. “Yes, help, please, Per.”
Audrey looks at the screen narrating our actions. “So many commas, dear.”
I wrinkle my nose at Audrey before standing with Per's help. I pick up the binder and look into it. “Per! How'd you know my size?”
Audrey snorts. “I told them your size.”
“You've worn binders, right?” Per rests their hands on my shoulders.
“Yes, Per.” I turn the binder inside out and upside down before holding it out and stepping into it. As I tug it into place, I look up at Per's face.
“The compression feels good, doesn't it?” Per moves their shirt collar to show the strap of their own chest binder.
“Definitely!” I push my pecs into place under my binder. “Per, may I please hug you?”
“Sure.” Per holds their arms out wide and I barrel into the embrace, sighing when Per engulfs me in protective pressure. Their fingers press into my skin, but their hands are still.
I hum into their shirt, not quite trying to make words.
“Can I call you my boy?” Per continues to hold me.
I nod against their shirt.
“My boy, did you forget about Audrey?” At my gasp, Per asks, “May I carry you back to the couch?”
“Please.” I turn slightly in Per's embrace just before they position their arms behind my knees and back to lift me. I sniff. “Hmm, is that vertiver?”
“Yes.” I close my eyes and enjoy the movements. I cling to Per's neck as they relaxed down to the couch.
“You feel so good in my arms. Want help returning to your previous position?”
I nod. My stomach muscles clench under the longer, new binder. I've never worn a full length one. The back of my head again rests on Per's arm.
“Does it help that your tummy is covered? To consider your masculine vulva, that is?” Audrey traces her finger through my pubic hair, across the top edge of my vulva. “Does the fuzzy covering make you feel masculine?”
“Too many questions at once, love! I'm not sure what I think of the long binder. And I'm thinking your aroused expression and my interest are helping most with the idea of masculine vulva, my comfort with Per here.”
Audrey pushes lightly into my body. “Wonderfully pliable. I think of times I've gotten to watch you writhe as Shaman played with clothespins.”
“This is your first full length binder? I'll have to see about getting you some more then.” Per brushes their lips over my forehead.
Audrey brushes her fingers over the meeting of my outer labia. “So softly masculine. I'm always so drawn to your labia. You still like that word?”
I groan, huff a breath through my nose. My gaze meets Per's.
“That groan sounded like it could have been a yes. Was it?” Audrey moves her hand from my outer labia to the top of my thigh.
I lift my hand to sign YES.
Audrey tugs at my outer labia. “I think your inner labia might be the most masculine, the way they hang just beyond the outer lips.”
Per strokes my hair. “Still good, my boy?”
“Yes, Per, excellent.” I inhabit Middle and adult at the same time.
“Stroking your inner labia makes me feel so womanly. Do you prefer my fingertip or nail?”
“Your... your finger.” I cough. “But womanly?”
“Let your mind relax. I'm not saying that your body affirms or changes my gender identity. You affirm my feelings of womanliness.” Audrey continues to stroke my inner labia.
I whimper with the growling arousal that prompts my Skene's glands; how ever do I find such medical words arousing? “Mmm, yes.”
“Such strength in these gorgeous muscles.” Audrey traces her fingers around the opening of my vagina, dipping in shallowly in for my arousal. “And strength in your masculine vagina. It's so you, so wonderfully boyish. I love how your boy-pussy grips my fingers when you're coming.”
I brush my fingers over the bottom hem of my new binder. I look at Per's chin. “Yes is yes?”
“Yes.” Per chuckles.
Audrey slides two fingers into my vagina and starts to move them in scissor fashion. Her thumb presses against my bound clitorophallus. “Can you have a little orgasm for me, my sweet man?”
My butt rocks against the couch and Audrey's leg. “Like you so much, Per,” I mumble.
“I like you too, sweet Joey.” Per cups my cheek with one warm hand.
I close my eyes as the pleasure rockets through me, Audrey's suggestive question prepping my body alongside our chat. “Yes, yes, yes!” I focus on her fingers' movements inside me. I squeeze her fingers as my lips part in a long, long moan.
“That's my love.” Audrey presses down on my mons with her other hand, preventing me from pulling away from her touch. As my moan increases in pitch and volume, she slides a third finger into me.
I push up hard against her hands.
“That's right. You can feel all this pleasure as a consenting adult and I'll make us hot chocolate shortly.” Per kisses my nose.
“Yes!” I crash back down onto Audrey, no longer pressing against her hands. “Thanks, thanks, love.” I turn my head into Per's shirt. “Thanks for being here, my new Per.”
“You're welcome.” Per kisses my nose again. “Audrey, will you sure in the hot chocolate?”
“Most definitely.” Audrey kisses my mons.
While I loved Kilted Wookie's photo, I wanted to use the 2-week inspiration picture to write a different sort of 2-parter. I often think of the limits in terms of words to express love; we don't have the same specificity as Greek, for instance. So I want to interact with a new character in a way that crosses between 2 WIPs.
Audrey sits in a couch she conjured into my mind. “Since you're impatient...”
“I'm not doing what you're hinting at.” I kiss Audrey's cheek.
Audrey plants a quick kiss on my lips. “Blaze, you have some time to join us?”
“Sure. I just put Wally to bed.” Blaze lifted their hand to make a loose braid in their hair. “So the only physical thing you know about me is my long, blue curls, Joey?”
I lick my lips. “Well, I'm not far into your book yet, and one thing you need to know about me is that I prefer to encounter my characters rather than making too many designs for their being beforehand. As well, you don't seem to be reflecting on your body much; I hope that doesn't reflect my limited understanding of asexuality.”
Audrey pats my hand. “Blaze, do you mind if I cuddle Joey?”
Blaze shakes their head and Audrey spreads her legs so I can sit there, relaxing back into her warmth.
“How much does a body mean? I'm serious. When relationship, when interaction isn't of a sexual, body-joining nature, what does a body's configuration mean?” I study Blaze. My mind and hope repeatedly jump to Audrey's create a Caregiver and wait for them to come to you as I did. “In describing your body, do I risk designing you to my whims?”
Audrey wraps her arms around my middle and gives me a gentle squeeze. “Am I always exactly who you want me to be?”
“Okay. I get your point, love.” I wrap my hands over hers. “But it does seem now like I'm jumping to the impatience you accused me of.”
“How about we reframe this as me being a matchmaker?”
Blaze laughs. “A matchmaker extraordinaire you are.” They lean forward to touch the couch beside my knee.
I cough. “I don't want re-parented, but parented differently.”
Blaze's hazel eyes glow for a moment when I manage to meet them. “I think I have an idea of your meaning.”
“You might touch my knee... Per.” I feel my throat move with my nervous swallowing. Long, thin fingers touch the skin on my naked knee. “Uh, shouldn't I put clothes on if I'm supposed to be, like, 12?”
“There's teens at nudist recreation thing. How about I get you a blanket?” After my nod, Blaze grasps my Batman blanket and eases it down over me. “There you are.” They sat back down in their chair. “Consider please, was your anxiety as you think a pre-teen would act or think back to your own difficult time then?”
“Both. Like, you aren't my Per, really. We've just started to get to know each other.”
“But did you feel this level of distrust when you were chronologically this age?” Audrey brushes my hair back from my face.
“No, it was to start building though.”
“Might I sit on the couch beside you both?” Blaze eases themself back against their chair.
“Yes, please.” I giggle. “I always wrinkle my nose when I see people say that online about guys and kinky stuff they like.”
“But I think in this case that it was a cute response.” Blaze sits on the far end and turns to face us; I turn on Audrey's lap, my legs dangling over hers. “So I can see all the My Little Pony and Jelly Belly stuff, WW2. And all your books. Did I get most of your special interests?”
“Yes. Uh.” I look around for a stuffie. I don't care if I'm supposed to be too old for stuffies! “Audrey, where's Audrey dolly?”
“You mean this doll?” Blaze points at where Audrey dolly has appeared on the couch beside their hip. “She's very pretty, maybe just like her namesake?”
“Such a flatterer.” Audrey tugs on the neck of her shirt as I hold out my hand for Audrey dolly. “Joey doesn't like his dolly to be cleaned.”
“He, him are your pronouns?”
“Yes.” I swallow. “Per.”
Blaze smiles with gentle upward curves at each edge of their mouth. “This isn't some D/s play where you have to force a title before you feel comfortable with it, with me.” Our hands touch as Audrey dolly moves from their hand to mine. “My pronouns are they, them. Do you understand the concept of gender identity?”
“Yup. Like I'm a transgender demiboy. I was assigned female at birth, but I don't feel female most of the time. Like someone recently talked about a feminine penis, I see myself as having a masculine vulva and vagina. Although I don't feel the need to give either of those parts a different name, like some trans men and non-binary people.”
“Although we are working on pecs for your chest.” Audrey traces her finger over my collarbone.
“Pecs is such a wonderful term. It was one of the first terms that helped me with my own gender pondering. Would you like to hear what identity term feels right to me?”
I nod eagerly.
“Non-binary and genderfluid.”
I feel my face stretch as I can't control my smile. “Those were words I used for myself as I was trying to things out.”
“Yes, figuring out oneself is good.”
I tilt my head back to look at Audrey's face. I scrunch up my forehead, hoping she understands my expression.
“Wanna move closer or invite them to?” Audrey kisses my forehead.
“Move. Us, move.”
UPDATE to add link to the second part of this.
So I was going to write from the inspiration picture, but then I found myself being warned for being too negative when I started talking about my special interests. You see, if you haven't already figured out as a reader of my blog, I'm Autistic and I commonly write neurodivergent characters; if you don't know what that means, it's basically "people who have a different neurotype and often think differently" that includes people who are Autistic, have other cognitive issues, schizophrenics, ADHD for example. Being warned felt like the equivalent of being told that I'm not welcome.
To say the least, I wasn't able to get back into my piece from the picture... I had this revenege fantasy brewing in my head where my Master'd fuck my face and then come on my parents' "Just for show" Christmas tree. Because yes, my parents have long had 2 Christmas trees, although I wouldn't know because I kicked their toxic asses out of my life. At least as much as my Master and therapist have helped me.
but please enjoy this. Not over the top smutty, but I hope still sweet and sexy. And not really edited either. I wrote it in Weebly's creator so you all would get to read it.
Audrey takes me by the hand. "Yes, that's a lovely picture. Let's go on and take a shower. You're still too wound. We'll watch Milk together."
I close the toilet lid and sit down while Audrey fusses with our shower. I smile when she droppes two shower fizzies. Socks and Shaman's sweatshirt find themselves on the floor.
After a few moments, Audrey pulls back the curtain a bit. "Come on, love."
I step into the tub and step forward. My head tilts forward when Audrey brushes her soft lips against my neck.
"There you are, baby boy." She continues to kiss my neck before she begins to rub my shoulders. "Jelly Bellies have four calories a bean."
"Adolph Eichmann wasn't captured until the '60s, in Argentina," I respond.
"Sobibor was an extermination concentration camp."
She traces her finger over my spine. "While stories don't agree, Marsha P. Johnson was likely among the first rioters at Stonewall in 1968."
I gasp in pleasure as my mind swirls. "The rioting went on for three nights."
"From the newly merged Unitarian Universalist church came some of the white activists who supported Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and the other black activists in Selma, Alabama. Including three men who were injured, one fatally so." She continues rubbing my shoulders as she presses her teeth against the nape of my neck.
I shudder and press my hands against the shower wall. I sigh as her hands move from my shoulders to my hips. "Less than a wooden duck."
Her hard cock slips between my asscheeks. "You have an excess of Pinkie Pies in your collection, over 10."
"We need to watch Flags of Our Fathers together after Milk. We also need to read your book Shaman got your for the section about Imperial Japan as you know less about that war theatre than you do the European or African theatre."
The pulses of pleasure dance through my body with Audrey's responses and her stroking. "Bodies containing ovaries, uteruses-or is it uteri- and vaginas also usually have two wonderful glands that are involved in arousal fluid production. The Skene's and Bartholen's glands." The orgasm tightens in my nipples and my vagina.
"Goregeous pecs." She brushes her lips against my neck as the tip of her cock slides just above my crack and her cum sprays onto my lower back. "Well regulated militia."
I press my ass back agaist my beloved Audrey. "Can you sleep with me tonight?"
"Love you too, sweet Audrey." I turn into her embrace as the water washes over us.