“Again. Please.”

For those who have not noticed the countdown on the sidebar to the right…I am heading to Vegas on Sunday. After a week there, I’ll be spending a few days at the beach. Here is something to think about while I am gone.


How do you define temptation? Is it in how your pulse quickens after reading the words below? Is it found in feeling something tighten inside that you had half-forgotten was there? Some part that exists just to need?

Does it scare you – just a bit? Even as you respond, even as you reply, the act of reaching out for something that tempts you, something right at the edge, can cut deep enough to leave a mark.

And you do respond. Without understanding or knowledge, you feel yourself pulled in, taken by the promise held in what you see. Each word you read is an admission for a hunger that grows increasingly dangerous.

Do you ever think of having your hands pinned over your head, the force of a body holding you still for a moment, forcing you to just be, to just exist in the warmth of lips on your neck, teeth biting skin, tasting you from the inside out, driving you to let go and grab onto that feeling harder then you ever have in your life, to ride it the waves of heat as they wash over you.

I do.

And temptation goes something like this.



Helen says, “i have my pajamas on :)”

D’jaevle says, “What do they look like?”

Helen says, “soft flannel pajama bottoms and a white strappy tank top”

D’jaevle says, “Underneath?”

Helen says, “nothing ;)”

D’jaevle moves up behind you, his hands warm against you through the thin fabric of your tank top. You can feel his fingers slip down along your waist, barely touching.

Helen slowly turns her head to look at you from the corner of her eye. She smiles and whispers, “Glad you woke up…”

D’jaevle runs his hands just under your tank top, fingers curling as they slip up over your stomach, against bare skin.”

Helen closes her eyes and traces her tongue along her bottom lip.

D’jaevle brushes the edge of your breasts, just underneath, his voice soft near your ear, “Miss my touch? My teeth against your ear, my fingers teasing your nipples?”

Helen nods gently, her eyes still closed. “I thought of you all weekend and could hardly control my desire.”

D’jaevle runs a slow trace down your cheek with his spare hand, fingers spreading under your neck, tilting it back as his teeth brush your vulnerable throat.

Helen moans softly and arches her back, reaching behind herself to dig her fingernails into your thighs.

D’jaevle presses his knee up, parting your legs from behind, his thigh rubbing up against you. The hand pressing along your breasts slip closer, running lightly over each nipple, then circling…

Helen reaches up and covers your hand with hers, slowly guiding it across her hardening nipples.

D’jaevle tightens his fingers, pulling hard against each nipple, feeling the nub slide against his palm. “Feel the need?”

Helen looks back at you again and nods. “What would you like to do to me?”

D’jaevle smiles, “I would love to make you beg. Beg to feel my touch. Beg to hear my voice. Beg to cum.”

Helen says, “I don’t have much time left, you’ll have to be very convincing…or make me so hot tonight I am still begging to cum tomorrow.”

D’jaevle chuckles quietly, his fingers sliding down swiftly, under your pajama bottoms and along your slick inner lips, capturing you as he turns to face you. Fingers press just slightly in, letting you have a taste.

Helen shivers and moves her mouth against yours, parting your lips with her tongue and kissing you deeply.

D’jaevle holds you against the wall, his eyes on yours, fingers tightening as two slip a bit deeper inside, then out, trailing against your thigh as he simply teases. His fingernails bite into the skin as his lips meet yours, slowly, taking his time to taste. He speaks softly as his fingers move against your thigh, tantalizing slow as it slips along the silky inner thigh, “I could make you scream.”

Helen tenses her body as she feels your touch, she reaches up to pinch her nipples as you stroke her.

D’jaevle keeps you pinned against the wall, his fingers moving along the outer thigh, and around, against your bare ass, drawing you hard against his knee as it rubs along your thighs. His teeth graze your neck as he slips lower. Slowly he applies more pressure, letting you feel his knee slip up against you, “More?”

Helen breathes heavily into your ear, moans louder this time, and whispers, “Spank me.”

D’jaevle runs a finger slowly along the crack of your ass, letting it linger the small of your back, “Say please.”

Helen looks desperately into your eyes and says softly, “Please…”

D’jaevle grips your arms, hands coming up as he turns you, pressing you hard against the bed, bent over, his fingers curling as it draws your bottoms to your ankles roughly.

Helen says again, almost whimpering. “Please…”

D’jaevle runs his hands over your bare cheeks slowly, savoring the taste of flesh as you feel yourself bared, bent over, vulnerable. He brings his hand back, and you can feel the tension just before the slap as it meets your flesh, burning, a red imprint on your ass.

Helen moans loudly as she catches her breath, tightly closing her eyes. “Again. Please.”

D’jaevle leans over, his fingers dancing on the small of your back, “What will you do for it?”

Helen slips her index finger down to her slit, slowly tracing it through the moist patch of trimmed hair. “Anything.”

D’jaevle brings his hand down again, the *slap* of his hand meeting your ass loud even in your ears, your skin shivering as you feel it burn. He runs a finger over the burning skin, “Anything?”

Helen says, “Anything. Punish me.”

D’jaevle runs a hand down to the apex of your thighs, almost tickling the skin before you feel the harsh bite his hand again, then again, and again, leaving your skin sensitive and red, “You have to be bad to be punished…” He slips his fingers over the red splotches on each cheek, “Anything? Tell me your phone number.”

Helen says, “Rob should be home any second, I can’t be caught. He wouldn’t understand.”

D’jaevle says, “I didn’t say I’d call. Just asked for your number.”

Helen says, “(home phone number)”

D’jaevle brings his hand down hard, letting the sting hit you, like plucking a tight string between your inner lips and ass. He says, “You want me call you, so badly, don’t you? You need it, to be taken, used.”

Helen almost screams, feelings the waves of pain and pleasure consume her individually. “I want to be used for your pleasure.”

D’jaevle runs his tongue along the edge of your ear from behind, your head pressed into the bed as his hand comes down hard, your skin becoming almost unbearably hot as he stripes it with red handprints.

Helen cries out as you slap her. “Promise me you’ll call tomorrow. Please. I can’t believe how hot you make me.”

D’jaevle brings his hand down hard again, at the apex of your thighs, and you feel it, the sting just at the edge of your pussy, “Maybe.” He leans over, his breath tickling your neck, “I can. I can feel it. I would have made you cum hard on the phone tonight. Would have had you thighs spread, begging for more.”

Helen says, “I want to hear your voice telling me when to orgasm, I want you to hear my moans and screams for you.”

Helen says, “Rob is home.”

D’jaevle smiles…I want you to remember tonight, and tomorrow, how wet I made you. How badly you need it.”

Helen says, “I don’t think I could forget.”

“If you could just take.”

How many times before it grows old? How long before the idea loses its edge? How much before the cup overflows?

I don’t know. I haven’t reached that point yet.



D’jaevle chuckles quietly, “Ah, surely you will allow me to enjoy your company?”

Nel laughs. “Well, alright. Shall I join you?”

D’jaevle says, “You may, although I spoke figuratively. You might want to be wary in my presence.”

Nel laughs. “What do you mean?”

D’jaevle says, “As you are in my debt, I could take advantage of you. But I *am* a gentlemen. Mostly.”

Nel says, “Maybe I like being taken advantage of.”

D’jaevle says, “Oh really?”

Nel smiles serenely.

D’jaevle looks you over slowly, letting his eyes drag across your skin.

Nel says, “Not much skin to see — I’m in black jeans, black tank top, purple shirt over it unbuttoned. No shoes.”

D’jaevle laughs. “You make me feel so underdressed…I am a bit more casual, being on vacation.”

Nel smiles a bit and stands quite still, curious.

D’jaevle rests his hand on your shoulder, brushing hair aside, baring your throat, “I had so wanted you to think of our last encounter, of such a meeting in a restaurant, being taken so.”

Nel says, “Sorry. I’m not alone, and I’m on a laptop, which means my screen’s easy to read. I’ve just turned around, though, so… “ Nel smiles just a little bit more. “Maybe you need to remind me.”

D’jaevle presses closer, warm breath tickling your neck, “Meeting at a restaurant, for lunch for the first time. Half way through the lunch, after nervous chat and a bit of flirting, I’d follow you into the bathroom unexpectedly…is it coming back? I believe I was to come up behind you, surprising you in the bathroom by pressing against your back, hands on the front as I pin you to the counter.” D’jaevle presses you forward, hands on your waist, “Like this. Except in the bathroom. After having just met me an hour before, you’d feel my hands on your naked thighs after undoing your jeans.”

Nel sighs and imagines it. Strange to think of it with someone in the room with me…are you behind me, or in front of me?

D’jaevle says, “Behind you.”

Nel groans a little and is definitely getting turned on.

D’jaevle smiles, “Are you in your bedroom?”

Nel shakes her head. “I’m in the TV room. Which is why I’m not alone. SOMEONE was going to bed, but saw Grosse Point Blank on TV, and sat down to watch it. Grrr. I –was – alone.”

D’jaevle says, “….at the bathroom, with hands against cool flesh, dragging your jeans down your hips, letting them pool at your ankles. Fingers now slip under your panties, pressing inward, an inch and a time, leaving you exposed.”

Nel sighs, thinking about it. She takes a deep breath. Mmmmmm. Gods.

D’jaevle says, “Feel yourself getting wet don’t you?”

Nel nods solemnly. “Yes. I want it.”

D’jaevle says, “Half naked there in the bathroom…barely known fingers slipping inside from behind, pushing in against you as your kept against the counter.”

Nel imagines leaning forward completely, laying herself against the counter, letting you have her, letting you spread her thighs…

D’jaevle speaks softly, “You want it bad. To be taken like that, just that once, this one meeting, to let go. Fingers moving deeper as you hear the rustle of my own jeans being undone.

Nel sighs and is about to be left alone out here…could take off her jeans, if you wanted her to…

D’jaevle says, “Not yet. How does it make you feel to be getting so wet, so hungry, while not alone?”

Nel says, “Strange…we have a very open relationship…I mean, hell, last night he watched me making out with someone else. But there’s fantasies I have that he doesn’t know about, and this is a big one, the idea of being fucked by a stranger….being taken from behind, being stripped down and taken…and the more I talk about it the worse I want it…”

D’jaevle says, “Take off your jeans. Now think of the feel of a hard cock against the back of your thighs, your skin pressed into the cold counter.”

Nel’s jeans are off. She’s now wearing black cotton underwear, a black lace bra, a black cotton tank top, and an unbuttoned purple shirt.

D’jaevle says, ” I can just see you bent over the counter, hands having dragged your panties to your knees, thighs spread as I look down over your bare ass… letting you feel the press of my hardness along the crack of your ass, quickly done, knowing the door may open any moment as we stand there half dressed…”

Nel smiles a little bit. “You want to hear it in my voice, don’t you? You want to hear the helpless desire? You want to describe to me sliding your fingers in and out of me…mmmmmn. Would you like me to do RL as you’ve described, remove my underwear?”

D’jaevle says, “God, yes. Slip them off and sit there, legs spread, laptop on bare skin. And you’d love to hear me putting you there, not knowing me *too* well, just someone making you wet, knowing how to drive you over. Describing to you how hard I am.”

Nel says, “I’ve taken my underwear off. I’m sitting bare on the couch, my laptop on my thighs, and I’m already wet. I haven’t touched myself, but I can feel it; I’m aroused, thinking about this, thinking about being bent over and spread wide…thinking about you touching me, sliding your fingers into me until it hurts, until I can’t take anymore…”

D’jaevle says, “Thinking too of hearing you, of hearing your fingers sliding in and out and driving you on, letting my voice, a stranger’s, take you to the edge.”

Nel shivers. “A stranger’s voice. And how would you like it? To hear a stranger on the other end, helpless with lust? But I imagine you’ve done that a lot. I imagine you’ve heard many women on the phone, begging you to fuck them.”

D’jaevle says, “Yes, I have. Not in a while…but I used to. Almost every night, a different female. I loved driving them over, making them cum hard for me.”

Nel sighs, thinking of it. “And did you enjoy it? The power of it?”

D’jaevle says, “Oh yes. I still do, every once a while. But the new person, the new way they moaned, the way they would beg. Some quiet, some screaming, some reluctant, some hungry…. You want it so bad, don’t you? You can almost taste it.”

Nel shivers. “Yes. I want it. I’m wet, I’m shivery…I want it, but I…gods. It’s never as good myself. I…I like penetration, I like to be entered, and I -want- it…tell me. Why do you like phone interaction so much? Just to hear the voice?”

D’jaevle says, “To hear the *person*. To know I’m really fucking them, if only with my voice and hunger. To really hear them cum. Without the pauses here, just doing it, hard, fast, needing.” He smiles, “And I need to fuck, to slide my cock inside as well. To feel it deep inside, burning as it takes you. There, in the bathroom, taking you hard as your forced to look in the mirror to see me fucking you from behind.”

Nel sighs, thinking of it. “Gods. Yes. I want it so badly. To feel a stranger inside me, taking me, using my body — tell me what you’d do, tell me…if you could do -anything-, if you could know that I wouldn’t refuse you anything, what would you do? Anywhere, anything, what would you do?”

D’jaevle says, “Now? First I’d have you get off this and call me, to let you be safe in contacting me. Then I’d fuck you. I’d make you cum all over your couch, just to warm us up, to make you want it so bad that when I suggest that we meet for a snack at Denny’s, you say yes.”

Nel mmmns, thinking about it. “You’d have me come once and then tell me to meet you…because once is never enough, and I’d want more, you’d know I wanted more…”

D’jaevle says, “And then, after getting there, I’d get us coffee…and then walk you to your car, just ten minutes inside, because you know it – you are already wet. And there, in the night air, I’d take you against your car, bent over the back.”

Nel mmmns. “Me in a skirt, so you could raise it over my ass, spread my thighs and fuck me in the parking lot…”

D’jaevle says, “Take you so completely, fucking you against the cold car, just getting you to the edge, but not letting either of us over. Then, in the parking lot still, I’d press you to your knees. You’d be dressed nice, but casually, and your skirt would bunch as it knelt, taking me in you mouth. Fingers buried in your hair, fucking your mouth nice and slow as you were forced to your knees there in public. ”

Nel breathes deeply. “I love it…you’d fuck my face, hold my head so I had no control over it, so it was your cock in my throat, so the gag reflex spasmed around you and you didn’t stop, you held my head against you as I fought, just a little bit, having problems taking it all the way, but you’d make me take it…”

D’jaevle nods, breathing deeply, eyes on yours, “Just fucking you, taking my time, so wet you can feel it against your thigh. It starts to rain lightly, us there as we get wet, making you continue as I fuck faster, deeper. You want it so bad, you’d do almost anything to feel that.”

Nel says, “I’d gag so hard the tears would run down my face, just from the spasm of it, but I wouldn’t stop…I’d -want- to feel you in my throat, I’d want to stroke you with my tongue, be suffocated against your skin, I’d want to choke on you and still take more…”

D’jaevle says, “Fucking harder, taking deeper strokes as you see the calm in my eyes, behind the heavy breathing as I came closer and closer to filling you, my balls brushing your chin, as the pace moved up. Fingers tighter as I pulled you in.”

Nel would want it harder, even deeper, would want to take you as far as she could…it would hurt and I wouldn’t care, I’d just want it, I’d want you to come in my throat, I’d want to feel your cock throbbing against my tongue…yes…

D’jaevle speaks softly, “Just how badly do you want it?”

Nel says, “I need it. Gods. I need it so badly I’m almost willing to call. Almost. Not quite. But gods I’m wet, I feel it dripping down…it’s embarrassing, but I got a towel, I’m sitting on a towel because I don’t want to stain the couch…”

D’jaevle says, “You want me to make you take it, take it all, use you. To make you, using your body against you to make you do it, don’t you?”

Nel says, “Yes. Yes, I want it. I want to be taken, possessed. I want it all. I want you in my mouth, my cunt. I want it.”

D’jaevle says, “And you want me to make you do it, don’t you? Say it.”

Nel says, “Yes. I do. I want it. I want you. I want it. I want you to tell me what you’d do to me. If I were willing for -anything-. If I’d do anything. If you didn’t have to ask. If you could just take.”

D’jaevle says, “Is that what you want? For me to take it? I’ll make you do it. Take you. Hard.”

Nel says, “Take me. Please. Don’t ask. Just do it.”

D’jaevle says, “Write this down, xxx-xxxx (cell phone number). Just write it down. Now. I could have you on the floor, on all fours, ass in the air, begging to be fucked, to be taken like an animal. I would. I would use you, hand son your ass, driving you forward.”

Nel says, “I’ve done it. I’ll call you. Now, if you want.

D’jaevle says, “Call now.”

Nel says, “Yes. I’ll go upstairs. I’ll go now.”

“There’s only so far you can step back.”

Hands, silk, rope, leather – restraints have a very specific purpose. A concrete shift in control. The removal of choice, mental and physical.

There are several people I know who let themselves be tied down by people they wouldn’t trust with their car keys. Why does this idea, this concept of helplessness, have such an appeal? The one answer that I enjoy taking advantage of the most is quite simple: plausible deniability – they can always tell themselves later that they no choice but to enjoy the way he managed to get three fingers inside.

And the appeal for those who are doing the restraining? A captive audience. A blank canvas on which they can write their desires.



D’jaevle considers you silently for a moment, his eyes flickering across the lines of your body, as if imagining you in various positions, bound.”

Emerald arches a curious brow as she watches you, wondering what is going on in that mind of yours.

D’jaevle smiles, an expression that appears for just a moment on his lips. He approaches, taking his time, although its clear that he intends to do *something*.”

Emerald tries to stay nonchalant, but her courage wanes as you get closer to her, one foot stepping back hesitantly as you get in arms reach of you, no fear showing, but caution perhaps.

D’jaevle continues forward, hands at his sides comfortably. His eyes look over your shoulder, “There’s only so far you can step back.”

Emerald feels a flush filling her cheeks as her next step back only manages to confirm your words, her back coming flush against an unforgiving tree, halting her retreat.

D’jaevle hides whatever triumphant reaction he might be having, choosing instead to take the moment of uncertainty to reach down and grasp your wrists, his hands gripping them firmly. He appears content – for the moment – to simply hold them at your side, forcing you to deal with the intimate presences of his body so close to yours.

Emerald swallows hard as she feels your grip on her wrists, her mind screaming to resist you, but her body doesn’t listen, it simply stays pinned between you and the tree, following it’s own desires as you feel the tension in her arms lessening as she relaxes them.

D’jaevle doesn’t relax his grip any, but drawing your arms behind you, he holds them between your lower back and the tree. He’s now close enough that his breathing tickles the side of your neck. Using the tree and his left hand to keep you pinned, he uses his free hand to slide around to the front, drawing your shirt up just an inch or two, testing the fabric strength.

Emerald feels her heart beginning to pound in her chest, your nearness wreaking havoc on her body, yet she can’t seem to stop herself, or you. Her cheeks flush with color as you raise her shirt up, baring her midriff, the fabric tight to her body, perhaps clinging would be a better word as it leaves nothing to the imagination

D’jaevle leans over, his face brushing your breasts through your shirt as he does so – lifting the edge of the shirt he bites, using his hand for leverage, he yanks upwards, ripping a swath of fabric about fourteen inches in length, along the edge of the shirt – leaving your midriff bare and cloth in his free hand.

Emerald’s breath catches , jumping as she feels the fabric rip, reflex forcing her wrists to try and fight you i a vain effort to cover herself, but i her struggles, you sense no real panic.

D’jaevle replaces his free hand along your back, where he is holding your wrists against the tree. With both hands braced against you, he stills most of your struggles and wraps the cloth around both wrists before drawing it down and between the wrists. A sharp snap tightens the bond.

Emerald offers little resistance as you wrap the fabric around her wrists, tho she does wince as she feels it cinch tightly between, ensuring her hands will stay behind her now whether she likes it or not.

D’jaevle moves his hands to your waist, fingers brushing bare skin, the shirt being several inches shorter. Leaning down – again, he bites the ragged edge of your shirt and draws it up, over skin, over breasts, until its bunched over them. Leaning back, his eyes lower, and you can feel them on your breasts, tracing their curves.

Emerald rolls her shoulders with a bit of a grunt as you reveal her breasts, cupped in her silken seamless bra, her traitorous nipples already budding and quite visible under the thin fabric, responding to the teasing touches.

D’jaevle steps back just a step or two, still surveying you. He turns, going to a nearby tree and backpack. Opening it, he takes out two coiled ropes, small and simple, but efficient. He turns back to you and steps close again, slowly lowering himself – his breath leaving a trail down your bare stomache.

Emerald watches as you retreat, her legs tensing to retreat, but her curiosity halts her, , having her follow you a step forward to see what you are doing, before you turn back, immediately stepping back, grunting as she her hands make contact with the tree, her window gone. She squirms a bit as you tease her now bared stomach, legs fidgeting.

D’jaevle takes one of the rope and wraps it around your left ankle – twice, once coiled atop the other. He stands, walking around the tree, coming to face you again. His eyes on yours, he lowers himself yet again, settling a small moist kiss against your bare stomach as he loops the other end of the rope around the right ankle, drawing it tight and forcing both legs back against the tree.

Emerald can only stand there and watch, her body refusing to respond to reason, allowing you to bind her to the tree, ensuring that she won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. She feels the bark of the tree rubbing against her bare calves, giving a small tug to her one ankle confirms she is going nowhere unless the tree goes with her, a highly unlikely scenario given the thickness of it’s trunk.

D’jaevle stands, unphased by your testing of the restraint. If anything, his gaze encourages you to test – to push – to struggle and find the limits of the simple, but effective, bonds. With you relatively held in place, he turns his attention to tour breasts – drawing fingers down across the silken bras, finding the hardening nipples through the fabric.

Emerald offers a soft whimper as she catches your gaze, growing uncomfortably with the heat it seems to create inside of her. She wrestles with her bound hands, stilling only once your fingers find her hardened nipples perking out thru her bra, her gaze shifting down and off to the side.

D’jaevle’s fingers become slightly rougher, as if your struggles are drawing his own tension to the surface. Fingers rake down across the fabric again, but is not content to do so through the fabric – he reaches up and hooks fingers along the top of the bra, dragging it down, knowing the size of your breasts will make it hard to drag without help. A hand to his side draws a sharp knife. Before you mark its presence, he adds two slices to your bra, one for each breast, giving him the room he needs to drag it.

Emerald blinks in disbelief as you slice her bra, the cool air on her breasts draws her gaze upwards, whimpering to no one in particular as she starts to look around, seeing no one but yourself around her, she still floods with color at her cheeks from the exposure

D’jaevle pauses, savoring the sight of your breasts for a moment, apparently unconcerned about the possibility of others seeing you; unconcerned, or enticing. But he doesn’t remain frozen – he takes advantage of your naked skin to lower his lips to the edge of your breasts, lips parted to trace a moist trail down your right breast, to the nipple – not quite touching it, content to circle slowly.

Emerald dips her head back against the tree, a moan rolling free from her parted lips at your teasings. her nipples harden even further, almost painful so with their need, only adding more fuel to the growing fire within her. Her hips shift, the knee length skirt covering them not seeming to be enough anymore.

D’jaevle appears content to remain where he is for the moment. His mouth leaving burning kisses against your breasts, dancing along the edges, circling each nipples, not quite touching, but encouraging your body to respond. Finally, his hands on your waist drawing you forward against his knee, his teeth close on one nipple, not so much biting as dragging the edge along the hard edges of your right nipple.

Emerald groans as you press your knee against her, flushing as her hips grind back against you, making her eyes close tight with the flush of color in her cheeks. her fingers work against each other behind her, fidgeting at your continued teasings, awakening her body in ways she had forgotten previously.

D’jaevle draws the nipple deeper into his mouth, lips closing around it as he sucks slowly, rolling the hard tip against his tongue. Hands slide along the small of your back, against bare skin, tips drawing the edge of your skirt up, an inch…two, knee pressing up between your thighs, giving you something to drive against.

Emerald leans her upper body back against the tree, a deep shiver teasing down her spine from your dual teasings. She doesn’t even seem to notice her skirt rising, her legs even offering to help as they shift a bit further apart, lowering herself a bit onto your offered knee, feeling the delicious pressure, wanting to feel more.

D’jaevle draws back, taking your nipple with him, pulling it taut before he releases it. Fingers slide lower, giving him a better grip to drag the skirt up further, and it doesn’t take long before your bare thighs are pressed against the hard pressure of his knee driving up sharply against you.

Emerald’s breath catches as her nipple snaps back, her head dipping forward, eyes a bit hazed as she looks towards you, meeting your face for only a moment before the pressure from your knee makes her forget everything else but the fire within her loins. As your knee meets her panties, it is quite obvious that she is aroused, her panties soaked thru with it.

D’jaevle lowers his knee, slowly, leaving your thighs empty. But only for a moment – with the skirt bunched around your waist, his hands are free and he reaches up, a hand on either side of your face. With you slightly dazed, he leans in, lips close enough to meet yours, to kiss, to taste…but they merely part and draw your lower lip into his mouth, biting, knee returning to your crotch, rubbing the length against you.

Emerald whimpers a soft protest at the kiss, her lashes fluttering a bit at your kiss, but lose the battle, her eyes remaining closed, tho her lips part a bit further at teh return of your knee, groaning as you see her struggle once more in her bonds, growing restless with her arousal.

D’jaevle tastes you just long enough to bite once more, before letting his hands fall to your waist. You can feel fingers drag down your bare stomach to the edge of your panties – and then curl, dragging it down slightly. Its clear he knows the effect its having on you.

Emerald whimpers at the slowness you take with her, not sure how you can go so slow, when she is so hot right now. Her feet shuffle restlessly on the ground as you start to peel off her panties, the fabric burning into her the longer it’s on her. Youw atch a flood of color tinge her cheeks as she averts her face, her mind slipping in to chastise her, before you see her turning forward again, the struggle evident in her dazed eyes as she looks towards you.

D’jaevle does seem to enjoy watching, feeling, tasting your growing need. But as deliberate and slow as he may be moving – it is in definition of an act. And as the panties are drawn down your thighs, as they come to rest, like your bra, just below what they are meant to hide – fingers plunge inside, three of them driving into you, all the way.

Emerald suddenly has no care as to who might be able to see her on her current state, your fingers plunging into the source of her heat and restlessness nearly undoing her, making her moan loud enough to echo in her own ears, her sex wet and ready, greedily taking the offered fingers.

D’jaevle slowly slips the finger from inside you – slow enough for you to feel each knuckle inside. And then they drive in again. His fingers move in, drawing each shudder from you, his eyes on your breathing, your moans, your hunger.

“And how do you know when you’ve reached the edge…”

Another long post; I debated breaking this up into two parts to make it easier to read – but have come to the conclusion that I much prefer having you all suffer through reading it all at once.

I’ve kept these logs because they hold power for me. They are moments of enjoyment that I read every once in a while as a reminder. Like looking at old photographs – only better. Sentiment, fear, desire, envy. I can almost taste the sensations that slip between letters and fill the moments between action and response. I do hope some of this comes across to you as well.

A couple of notes: All conversations are at least two years old. All names are changed to protect the guilty. And the logs are editted, mostly to correct grammar/spelling mistakes and to condense the content to make them easier to read.



D’jaevle slowly draws his fingers up along your cheek, tilting your head back, his lips brushing across your skin. He parts his lips against your ear, teeth grazing, tugging lightly. Hands slip lower again, drawing you closer still. He leaves a trail of small kisses down your neck, moist and warm against your skin.

Elena leans back against him, her head turning to the side. She shivers, hands moving back to rub his sides. She tilts her head back, invitingly… mmms and her hands move to meet his at her waist, lacing with his fingers. She guides his hands upward, finally resting against her breasts. She slips her fingers from his and rests her hands on top, leaving them there and pressing down slightly.

D’jaevle curls his fingers along your breasts, pressing in slowly, palm rubbing upward as he draws you back against him. His breathing brushes along the back of your neck. He leaves one hand presses against your breast, his other dropping down to the edge of your gown, finding the warm flesh underneath. His fingers slide slowly up your thighs, pressing inward. He draws your nightgown up slowly, over your head, letting your bare skin rest against his. Enjoying the feel of you against him. Taking advantage of your body so close to his own, he slowly traces small moist kisses down across your shoulder, biting lightly. “Might I ask how you are attired this eve?”

Elena exhales deeply, her body tensing in excitement. Her hands drop limply to her sides, head heavy against his shoulder as she presses back against him. She closes her eyes again briefly, her breathing ragged. She pulls from him, turning herself around to face him, then presses her body fully against him again. She brings her hands up, draping one over his shoulder, the other moving up to trace a finger along the side of his face, admiringly. She leans against him, head tilting back again to rest against his shoulder. She lets out a soft moan of approval, nodding… “Just my nightgown, ready for bed. And what are you wearing?”

D’jaevle leans in against you, his hands around your waist, one knee pressed lightly against your thighs. His eyes slowly slip down over your body, tracing the naked curves. “Currently…black short jeans…black t-shirt…””

Elena grins, a mischievous look in her eyes. She slides her hands down roughly, over his shoulders, down his arms, then sides, finally resting them at his waist. Her fingers grip the fabric of his shirt, moving it out of the way to slide her hands underneath… pressing her palms against his bare chest and moving them upward, slowly.

D’jaevle smiles, watching your eyes, his skin warm against your touch. His own hands slide down your lower back, taking his time to trace the small of your back, along the curve of your ass. He presses you back, his chest close, enjoying the friction as his left hand slips just under your thigh, drawing it up slowly along his own leg, parting your legs. “Still think of that edge, the thrill of pushing lines?” His fingers slipping slowly down the edge of your ass, tracing the line to press lightly, feeling heat at the tip of his fingers.

Elena keeps her eyes fixed on his, hands moving down again help pull the shirt over his head. Her hands return to his sides, pressing her breasts against his chest, enjoying the warmth and shutting her eyes. A soft sigh of contentment. She nods. “At times… ” Her hands slide around to the front of his waist, fingers fumbling with the fastens. Her eyes open again to meet his, smiling gently. She works quickly, finally unfastening his jeans and pushing them off his hips, down until they fall to his feet. She draws him tightly against her, arms wrapping around him. She rests her head against his shoulder, moaning softly at the feeling of him against her skin.

D’jaevle steps out of the jeans. His fingers slide slowly deeper, pressing upward, lightly along the crevices where your legs meet your hips. His voice is soft near your ear, “I do like to push lines, just along the edge.” He curls his fingers tighter, gripping your ass just enough to draw you up against his knee as it slips between your thighs, his eyes on yours, “There always has to be an edge, a place to cut yourself.”

Elena shifts against him slightly, her breathing is ragged as she lightly brushes her fingertips up and down his back. She grins slyly and pulls her head up, leaning in slightly as her eyes lock on his, head tilted. She gasps at the feel of his knee, moving her hips against it. Her eyes narrow a bit, curiously… “And how do you know when you’ve reached the edge…”

D’jaevle draws his knee very slowly along the apex of your thighs, then deeper, rubbing a bit deeper, his teeth biting lightly on your shoulder, tasting the skin, “…when the temptation to go over will make you do almost anything.”

Elena groans softly, hands running up his neck and through his hair, caressing. Her head tips back and she shuts her eyes again, forcing her hips forward even more. “What if the temptation takes over… what if you want it to…”

D’jaevle hungrily tastes your neck, his tongue and teeth moving down your neck with a deliberate pace. Fingers press deeper, tips slick as his knee rocks up against you, pressed hard against you, “Then reluctance is overcome, the need to go over, to give in burns.”

Elena furrows her brow, breathing beginning to speed up. She growls wantonly, hands frantically moving over his back, pressing herself in time with his knee. Her words are separated by short gasps… “Have you… ever… been taken over by the temptation?” She wraps her arms around his neck, leaning in to keep her balance, knees beginning to shake as she trembles from the pleasure. She groans deeply, hips still moving with his knee…

D’jaevle matches your growl with his on low groan against your neck, breathing harsh against the skin. Hands draw you up, lifting you against his knee as he slides it, now slick, against you, faster, deeper, finding the heat, “…once…or twice…when the need for the edge, a touch, a voice, a taste…” He lowers you to the ground, keeping his knee against you, but slowly moving down your neck, your shoulder, small moist kisses across your chest, finding the curve, along the top of your breasts – a lick, a slow movement of tongue down over your nipples, eyes flickering to yours, “Have you?”

Elena rolls her eyes back with pleasure as he moves against her, briefly glancing back to meet his eyes… “Same… once or twice…” She growls again, one leg draping over him, hands reaching out to caress his hair. Her head drops back to the floor again limply, pushing her hips upward.

D’jaevle meets your eyes, “And…what caused you …to give in those times?” His fingers slide down lower, bending your knee and parting your thighs further, his knee pressed squarely between.” He smiles against your skin, his teeth drawing down on the edges of your nipple, tugging lightly, then just a bit harder. His fingers urge your back to arch, allowing deeper access as his legs entwine with yours.

Elena breathes heavily, head tilting back farther, back arching slightly… “Need… desire… when the temptation took over, there was no turning back.” She lets out a soft gasp, the tugging pleasurable. Her body shifts invitingly, legs rubbing against his.. her hands caressing his hair, gently pressing him against her breast.

D’jaevle suckles slowly, his tongue slipping lower, down along your skin. His fingers continue to draw up your knee, eyes flickering to yours, and then down, kissing the top of your knee, fingers tickling the inside of your thigh, slowly, like a slow brush across sensitive skin. He takes his time, nibbling lightly, fingers curved to brush the inside of your knee; his eyes move to yours, catching your gaze – and then the slow pressure of lips down your thighs, each kiss light – moist and burning into the skin.

Elena mmms, squirming at his touch against her thighs, giving her goosebumps. She lifts her head to watch him, parting her legs more, muscles tensing with anticipation. She shivers with each kiss Her neck begins to get weak from the intensity, her head falling back to the ground again with a low moan.

Cost of Temptation, Part II

What price would you pay to feel it?


Erin mmms softly, moving as she is directed by your touches. “Well, I do not think you mean to injure me or take my life, so you are not a mortal danger…”

D’jaevle applies more pressure to the back of your thighs, parting them a bit further as his hands rest on your hips now, keeping you steady as he moves, “True.”

Erin sighs softly as you move her, enjoying your warmth against her, contemplating other sorts of dangers…

D’jaevle stops for a moment, and then grips the edge of your jersey, drawing it swiftly along your thighs, bringing the edge dangerously close to your waist and allowing the cool air to meet youur exposed flesh. He keeps the jersey there, his knee slipping up now against your naked thighs, pressing them further apart and forcing you to adjust your stance wider to remain standing.

Erin gasps, suddenly cold where cloth had shielded her flesh. She shrinks back from the cold air, pushing her bare hips back against you. Then she shifts, parting her legs more as you force her open. She steadies herself by clutching at you with one hand, leaning back against you.

D’jaevle relaxes, taking the weight of your body as you move back, “Miss this?”

Erin nods, arching up to nuzzle at you. “Missed everything,” she murmurs softly.

D’jaevle shifts his weight, his body moving from behind you to stand in front. “How restless are you?” His eyes, dark and silent, watch you.

Erin looks up at you, eyes alight as she studies your form before her. “Can you not tell, my dear?”

D’jaevle presses you back a step until you feel the wall behind you, “Yes – but tell me.”

Erin straightens as the cold wall greets her flesh, and she smiles up at you. “Restless enough to want you to take me…” she whispers.

D’jaevle moves his knee up against your thighs, pressing them open to welcome it, his thigh slipping slowly inward, until you feel your heat rest against him, the edge of his shorts brushing your thigh as his bare skin meets you. “How much do you want it?”

Erin trembles mmmms , sliding her hands along your flesh. Her cheeks are flushed with warmth, as is the whole of her body. “I am beyond wanting, now, my sweet… I hunger for you…”

D’jaevle leans inward, his thigh shifting, rubbing against you once, twice, sliding as his hands graze the edge of your ass, barely touching the skin as it meets the wall.

Erin mmmms softly, pressing herself straight against the wall as you tease her. She tries to read your calm eyes, seeking something within them.

D’jaevle continues the pressure, his thigh driving in a bit deeper, slightly faster as you feel it against you, urging you to ride against him.

Erin gasps, letting herself press against your driving leg, caressed and pushed by your flesh. Her eyes slip closed as she enjoys the thrusting contact.

D’jaevle speaks softly, as he leans into you, “Do you need this?” His thigh presses hard, deeper as you feel his skin slip against the moist heat between your legs, causing your ass to slip from the wall and them press back against it with slap.

Erin gasps as she moves back to the wall so suddenly, bracing herself against you. “Yes,” she moans, voice losing its softness as her need grows.

D’jaevle keeps you pressed to the wall, his hands on your waist as he moves inward, letting his knee drive faster, “How bad?”

Erin leans up to you, kissing you with hard fierceness that betrays her almost animal need. Her body rocks with your knee, rubbing against it in desperation.

Erin struggles to catch her breath, trying to force this hunger into speech. “I ache… I am empty… I need to be filled…” she murmurs, knowing words are inadequate…

D’jaevle slowly moves away, his knee moist from you as he regards you standing there against the wall, “How do I make you feel?”

Erin looks up at you, hands now braced against the wall. “Hungry… alive… safe and in fear at once…”

D’jaevle watches you, his gaze like a touch as he slowly looks down over your body, from your bare legs, to the rumpled jersey half above your waist, half falling down again. “I thought I was no danger; why fear?”

Erin says, “Fear of discovery, of harming those I love by craving your touch as well…”

D’jaevle slowly walks to stand in front of you, his finger lightly tracing your cheek, down to your neck, “Dos the fear make you even wetter?”

Erin straightens as your finger passes, and nods. “It does,” she admits softly.

D’jaevle slowly slips finger down to your lips, running across, “How much?”

Erin shivers, writhing. “Oh, gods…” she sighs, eyes closing. “I’m soaking wet…”

D’jaevle leans inward, so closer, you can feel his warm breath against your skin, “It makes you so wet, doesn’t it? The fear, my touch?”

Erin nods, looking up at you, trembling where she stands.

D’jaevle smiles and slowly kisses you, once, his lips meeting yours slowly, yet parting so that you can feel his tongue slip against your lips, teasing you as it finds its way to met yours, once, and then draws back.

D’jaevle moves over to you, standing in front of you as you rest against the wall, “How loud are you when you go over the edge in RL?”

Erin smiles up at you. “Why do you ask?”

D’jaevle looks at you for a moment and then runs his hand down across the front of your jersey, his palm tracing the contour of your breast slowly, finding each curve as his fingers impress the cloth. “You really want to know?”

Erin smiles. “Of course I do…”

D’jaevle leans closer, his palms pressing right against you, finding your nipples through the fabric, his palms cup, rubbing hard against you. “Because I want to know how you’ll feel when you hear my voice as you lie on your bed, or floor, or chair, and I make you feel so wet and hot you beg me to let you cum. I’ll make you scream, and I’ll make you whisper.”

Erin mmmms softly, arching to press her breasts into your hands, a sly smile creeping across her lips. “Such a devilish tease, my dear…”

D’jaevle slips his hands lower, to the edge of your jersey, drawing it up slowly that his hands may find the skin underneath, slowly tracing the skin to your breasts, feeling his bare hands against you as his palms slip down, tracing each nipple, “Don’t like my teasing?”

Erin moans softly, head tilting back against the wall. “I never said that, my sweet,” she sighs, eyes half-lidded. “I rather enjoy it…”

D’jaevle curls his fingers against your breasts, his palm rubbing inward as you feel it capture your nipple, back and forth as he moves, “Shall I offer more?”

Erin ooohs, nodding, as she presses a hand over yours under the jersey. “Please do,” she whispers.

D’jaevle leans in closer, his hands warm against your skin, his breath soft against your neck. His fingertips slowly move around each nipple, drawing them out, teasing them to hardness, “Shall I tell you more of what I would do if I had you on the phone?”

Erin nods slowly, tilting her head to bare her throat to you. “Yes,” she hisses softly.

D’jaevle draws his teeth over your skin, biting lightly, his tongue moving to sooth the skin as he teases. Fingers draw a bit tighter on your nipples, rolling them now, “I would have you lie there, dressed, and then instruct you on how to draw off each article, making your need greater with each piece removed. Or maybe I’d just have you as you are now, ready to be fucked, with just a gesture to push your shirt up.”

Erin smiles, writhing as you graze her with your teeth and tug at her with your hands. “You like me as I am now, ready and waiting for you?”

D’jaevle slides a hand down to your thighs, his fingers sliding right across your inner lips, pressing deep against you, rubbing once, slowly, against you, and then moves his moist fingers back up, “Yes.”

Erin moans softly as you press into her, eyes closing slowly. “I have to go. My husband just woke up.””
Erin has disconnected.

Cost of Temptation, Part I

There is a theme in these conversations. They are testaments to the trust we place in the words we share. To give ourselves over to the visceral feel of another. Of someone whose touches are broad strokes on a canvas of desire.

Who are these people? They are real. They are real in a way that the mundane moments of each day are not. They linger, restless memories that remind us that there is more to life then another damn day of routine. More to life then the increasing number of concessions made to get by. They are the best and the worst of us.


D’jaevle speaks softly, right by your ear, “Tell me how you are dressed then.”

Erin smiles. “A black mesh jersey from the All-Star Cafe in Orlando. Nothing else.”

D’jaevle laughs, his hands slipping about your waist, “You do tempt, I must say.” His fingers slip down, palms pressing across your thighs as he draws the shirt up slightly, an inch or so, drawing it over your skin.

Erin mmmms softly, arching back against you as your warm hands slip over her skin. “Tempt? I speak but the truth…”

D’jaevle curls his fingers just under the edge of the jersey, fingers meeting the warm flesh of your thighs as his lips brush your ear, moist and teasing, “Nothing, you say?”

Erin nods slowly, shivering as your lips brush against her. “Nothing,” she repeats, eyes slipping closed.

D’jaevle gently, lightly, lets you feel his fingertips along your inner thigh, pressing against your skin as you feel how close he is. He shifts with you, his fingers teasing across your thigh, moving upward until he can feel the heat between your legs, not quite touching, his fingers spread. “Still feel restless?”

Erin gasps softly, shifting her stance slightly to allow your fingers more places to caress. She reaches one arm back to brush over your hip, light fingers caressing you. She nods slowly, pressing herself back against you. “Even more, now…” she whispers.

D’jaevle ever so slowly works his hand upward, still remaining to the side as he traces your pelvis, moving to your stomach, under your shirt, “You should be careful…”

Erin mrrrrs, eyes fluttering open to regard you. “Why do you say that?”

D’jaevle presses his hand in, palm flat against your stomach, and then slips it down until you feel his fingertips brush against the soft hair, “Do you not find me dangerous?”

Erin shivers again as your hands caress her, looking up at you. “Should I? You’ve done naught to make me mistrust you…” Erin writhes a little, body responding to each touch. “Danger implies threat, and you’ve posed no threat to me…”

D’jaevle curls his fingers, letting you feel each individual fingertip just at the edge. He moves against your back, closer, until you feel the outline of his body against you, his fingers slipping away, up your stomach, “How do you feel?”

Erin murmurs, “Aroused… relaxed… safe with a friend…”

D’jaevle pauses, his lips slipping over the edge of your ear, teeth grazing as you feel him tug, his body close, “There are many kinds of danger.” He lowers his lips to your neck again, parting them ever so slightly. His lips leave a small moist trail across your throat, moving down your shoulder to the edge of your shirt, his voice right by your ear, “Part your thighs for me, there on your chair.”

Erin smiles softly, doing so before nodding. She shivers, feeling you closer to her, holding you with her caressing hand. “So there are,” she murmurs. “Which danger do you embody?”

D’jaevle presses against you, his body a silhouette of heat along side yours, “Which do you think?”

“I’m not entirely submissive…”

People have a tendency to want to change the people they are with. But it never works out the way they think it is going to. The irony is that the very things that attract them to a person – the rogue or wench in them – are the qualities that they want reshaped into something more…manageable.

My humble opinion? Accept them as they are. Just by being with someone, you are naturally going to rub off on them (and vice versa). If anything, work to cultivate the differences. Differences are exciting. Differences create confrontation (and confrontation is not a bad thing! Confrontation does not have to mean argument or fight. It means two forces are meeting – and often, when forces meet, sparks fly. Sparks are good.).

Novels would be very uninteresting if the protagonist reached the climax of the story only to tell the bad guy that they are more then welcome to nuke New York, sell the girl into white slavery, and go on being their bad self – because hey, the protaganist was moving to Tijuana anyways, the girl was a nag, and that Nietzsche guy had the right idea about the strong.

Hey…I kind of like that story. I think need to work on my supporting examples a bit more….


Hannah tips her head as she feels your eyes on her, soft pink of her tongue darting out to moisten her lips as she waits for a reaction. She blushes softly as she feels your eyes on her and licks her lips again, “So was it what you expected to see?”

D’jaevle watches you, his eyes traveling your body slowly, from the ring on your toe to the curve of your breasts. “Yes. A collar, even if of gold.” He pauses, then chuckles, “I so seldom indulge myself these days…but you are so inviting.” He turns, fully facing you, closing the distance between himself and you – so close, you are forced to step back, finding the wall behind you.

Hannah purrs a bit as her hand moves up to stroke her collar. She looks at you with wide eyes – and then gasps as her back touches the wall. She swallows, refusing to look down or away. “There is something else you should know about me…” she murmurs, eyes sparkling. She laughs softly, placing her hands on your chest and sliding them slowly up to your shoulders. They continue around to the back of your neck and she exerts a small pressure, pulling your head towards hers. “I’m not entirely submissive…” she purrs just before her lips brush across yours.

D’jaevle meets your lips slowly, parting to enjoy the taste, sharing the hunger with the slip of his tongue lightly along your lower lip. He speaks against your lips, “Oh?”

Hannah mmms, her lips parting softly, invitingly as she presses her body against yours, softness melting against you. She laughs softly and suckles your lower lip into her mouth, giving it a little nip. “You’d be surprised how many that are into the ‘lifestyle’ in any way that scares away…”

D’jaevle allows his eyes to close briefly, enjoying the kiss, fingers tightening on your lower back as he keeps you against the wall, “Which is why I don’t indulge too often…I dislike boundaries, or conventions. I admire intelligence.” D’jaevle adjusts his position, knee moving along your thighs, resting at their apex, parting them slightly, his expression amused, “And a sense of humor.” His hands run up over your sides, coming to rest on the wall behind you. His thigh applies a slow pressure you, parting your legs, “Offer me something. Your name.”

Hannah‘s laugh turns into a gasp as she finds herself riding your thigh. She trembles, the urge to lower herself down and truly ride you almost overwhelming. She growls softly, deep in her throat, the slow flush that started at her cheeks spreading down. She raises her eyes to yours and tips her head curiously, “Mmm, my name…that is offering a lot, truly…” She looks into your eyes, searching. She must like what she sees because she smiles softly and murmurs, “Jessi.”

D’jaevle suddenly presses his knee up, resting tightly against you, without warning. His eyes are on yours as he leans closer and lowers his lips to yours, meeting them parted, teeth grazing your lower lip, “You feel the need, don’t you? The burning.”

Hannah kisses you hungrily, body pulsing with need, “Yes…” she whispers huskily, “Oh yes…” She rides your thigh, twisting her hips as she grinds down onto it, her juices starting to soak into the pantleg of your slacks. She cries out softly, arching towards you, her soft curves trapped to pleasantly between you and the wall. She bites her lower lip and moans, pleasure coursing through her like a shock wave. She clings to you, grinding her hips down onto your thigh as she begins to pant softly. Her fingers slide up into your hair and she whimpers with need, “Please…” whispers as she tangles her fingers in your hair and pulls you down for a kiss.

D’jaevle thrusts his knee harder, driving it in as one hand slips down along your back, tracing your ass, palm pressing into the cheek, his mouth moving against yours, quick hungry kisses, “How far does it go with me, how far do you want it to go?”

Hannah trembles against you, then looks up at you eyes wide and trusting and full of desire, “Please…as far as you can take me…” She buries her face into the crook of your neck and nuzzles you, body quivering on the edge. She whimpers.

D’jaevle relaxes his knee, keeping you on the edge, fingers curled against your ass, holding you there. His eyes burn into yours as he holds you steady, “Tell me you need more.”

Hannah’s heart races and she nods, “I need more…how much more do you want of me?”

D’jaevle lets his fingers dance against your skin, just at the entrance from behind, “I want to hear your breathing, your hunger, your words. For now. I want you to hear my vision, driving you.”

Hannah trembles feeling your fingers driving her wild. She licks her dry lips and leans back against the wall, back arching deeply and thrusting her breasts towards you, “Tell me what you want me to do…”

Crossing the Line

What is it that drives us over that line? What is the deciding factor that says that this kiss, this word, this touch, this look, is the one that is going to push you over the edge and do something wicked, something sinful? Looking back at my life, I see that I’ve made a study of these stress points. Finding them is what quickens my blood – it is the scent of prey that awakens my darker, hungrier, side .


D’jaevle smiles….you do make me hungry, make me want to feel you under me.

Karin pages: perhaps it is the allure of something forbidden…but the thoughts make my heart race

D’jaevle pages: ‘Does it make you wet to think of my mouth on you right now? Knowing how bad it is, but wanting it?’.

Karin pages: yes

D’jaevle pages: ‘Because that’s all I can think of. Having you tied there as you watch my face between your legs, feeling my tongue….knowing how evil it is that I am doing this to you….’.

Karin pages: god

D’jaevle pages: ‘I want for you to feel my teeth grazing you as my hands tighten around your legs, sliding one…over my shoulder…feeling you get wetter with each passing moment…Tell me you want more.’.

Karin pages: yes and no…but yes.

D’jaevle pages: ‘Say it…’.

Karin pages: Give me more.


Karin pages: yes, I want to be tied down and taken

D’jaevle pages: ‘Who do you want to take you?’.

From afar, Karin pauses.

D’jaevle pages: ‘Tell me Karin …tell me who you want to tie you up right now and take you, hard?’.

Karin pages: I want my husband to learn to take me the way you would

D’jaevle pages: ‘I know. But tell me, honestly. Right now, who do you want to take you like that? Who do you want between your thighs, making you shudder hard, knowing you can’t stop yourself?’.

Karin pages: you