Writing exercises 5: write a kink you don't have

[joy_of_cooking]

I'm going to lift one of @SimonDoom 's suggestions from the discussion thread:

Write a kink you don't have.

People have said that very open-ended prompts were harder to write. If anyone wants a more specific prompt,

Write degradation in the context of a clearly loving, consensual relationship, and I'd take it as a personal favor if there were some high heels involved

Audience participation:

If you have the kink being depicted, weigh in on how well it was done.

(Authors should feel free to opt out of being participated upon.)

I'll say 1 to 500 words, but I think the more important thing is to

1. include everything you feel is necessary and no more
2. say the word count so people can decide whether they want to read that much
3. submit your response as a quote so longer ones don't stretch out the thread

Happy writing! (And who's on deck for next week?)

 

[Agent0069]

For April fools I wrote a story about a woman who jumped off the plane with a huge inflated cock instead of a parachute, do I need to clarify that this is not a kink that I have?

A more specific prompt feels like an interesting idea, will need to think about it.

 

[StillStunned]

This is going to be a challenge...

 

[joy_of_cooking]

This is going to be a challenge...

I can't imagine why, for someone like you ;-)

 

[joy_of_cooking]

do I need to clarify that this is not a kink that I have?

Not a kink you've explored, clearly, if you're here talking about it

 

[StillStunned]

Here you go. 484 words. This isn't my kink, or at least I didn't think it was, but I found myself getting interested even so.

She walked into the room, and I forgot my concerns. Forgot about how silly I felt, tied up naked to the chair. Forgot my worries about her being bored with me, with our sex life. Forgot to breathe, for a moment.

She was dressed in black. Black gloves that reached up past her elbows and set off her pale skin. Black corset that forced her breasts up like a pair of pillows. Black mask that hid her whole face, except her eyes and her mouth.

Black boots that seemed to writhe up her legs like a pair of great snakes that were trying to swallow her. Her thighs were bare, as was everything below the corset – including her pussy and arse.

She stepped forward slowly, deliberately. A woman supremely confident of her place in this world. Heels higher than anything I’d seen on her before gave her four inches of extra height, and she used them to stare down at me.

Her hand slapped against her leg with a crack. I realised she had a crop in her hand – black, of course – and I gulped. Some of my concerns came back, although a few desires were wrestling with them for prominence.

“Do you like it?” Her voice was a cold sneer. “Of course you do. Look at you, almost drooling just at the sight of me.”

I realised that my mouth was open, and hastily shut it before the saliva ran out onto my chin. “I–”

“Silence!” The crop slapped against her boot again. “You do not speak. In fact,” and she raised the crop until it rested under my chin and forced my face up, “you should be glad I let you see.”

I gulped again, and nodded. I didn’t think she’d use the crop on me – not in earnest – but this was a new version of her. One I didn’t know, at least not as well as I thought.

“You understand. Good.” Her voice was thoughtful. “Perhaps there is hope for you.”

Her right knee came up, higher and higher, until it was nearly level with my face. I eyed it with some disquiet. Surely not…?

No. She placed the heel of her boot on the chair beside my leg. The leather was cool and smooth on my bare skin. It creaked slightly when she moved.

The crop slid from my chin to my cheek, forcing my face to the side and down. “Lick it.” She leaned forward until her face was close to mine. “Lick it, and if I think you’ve done a good job, I might let you lick elsewhere.”

I swivelled my eyes round. Her pussy was only inches away. Hairs trimmed and glistening as if she’d rubbed them with oil. Lips, dark red with her arousal. Her scent rose up to fill my nostrils.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and licked the leather boot.

 

[ElectricBlue]

Here you go. 484 words. This isn't my kink, or at least I didn't think it was, but I found myself getting interested even so.

We need to be careful with these. They're pushing hard up against the "only three paragraphs rule", as well as being un-vetted stories in threads (which get removed from any other forum). The site has the 750 word minimum story length for a reason, we should respect it.

I don't want to pour cold water on this, but has anyone checked with Laurel that these exercises are okay?

 

[SimonDoom]

Mine, 407 words:

“Do I have to?” Sandra asked me, eyes wide, imploring.

“Yes, you do,” I said. “It’s my birthday, and you said you’d do anything I wanted.”

I kissed my wife on the forehead as we sat on a bench in an upscale women’s shoe store.

The blue silk crepe of her dress shrouded only part of her body in a thin film. I loved the way her body shifted under the delicate fabric. The short sheath rode scandalously far up her thigh when she sat. I smirked with pleasure at the knowledge that she wore nothing under it.

A young man, no more than twenty-five, approached us. He looked Sandra up and down and then looked at me, a hint of guilt and nervousness in his face. I sensed that he was new to the job. He was perfect.

“How may I help you?” he asked Sandra.

“She would like to try on a pair of the 4-inch Alexandre Birman black sandals that I believe just arrived,” I said, noting with pleasure that his attention shifted to me. “Size six and a half.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, leaving to find the shoes.

“Part your legs,” I told my wife.

“I’ll be exposed!” she said.

“That’s the point.”

After some sighing and twitching, she complied, and her legs parted. I pulled her left leg still farther to the side with my hand.

The young man returned with a shoe box. He took the sandals out. They were exquisite: black leather, polished to a perfect sheen. Sandra had removed her espadrilles and extended one bare foot forward until the ball touched the shoe ramp in front of her. Her toenails sported a French manicure that matched her fingernails. Her feet were lean and high-arched, skin smooth and supple, toes playful and wiggly.

The young man gulped as his eyes took in the magnificence of Sandra’s feet. His eyes did not stop, though, at her feet. They traveled up her bare calf, along her exposed inner thigh, past and beneath the hem of her short dress. His eyes widened with surprise. My right hand firmly clamped Sandra’s knee, and I pulled it toward me, exposing her more.

He looked at me, obviously fearing my reaction to his gaze at Sandra’s brazen display.

“It’s OK to look,” I said. “She wants you to.”

Sandra let out the faintest of whimpers, and I knew, despite her protests, that I was right.

 

[oneagainst]

Write about a kink you don't have... LOL... most of the ones I write about! Geez, I'd be exhausted

 

[Erozetta]

500 words and incest (brother/sister) warning. Critique away. (It was incest or werewolves, sorry. Although... now I'm considering writing incest werewolves...)

I cringed for a moment, reminding myself that he was my brother and I couldn't stay there watching him shower. So, I started to tiptoe away from my closet hidey-hole.


The door decided to announce that it was being opened wider and squeaked with what had to be the loudest and longest squeak ever. My brother opened his soapy eyes to see what the noise was and our gazes connected for a second before I averted mine in the wrong direction.


I quickly realized I was not staring at his face.


“Cover your eyes, Lex!” He scrambled, opening the shower door more and knocking his towel off the hook it had been hanging on.

I instinctively followed his directions. I also promptly punched him in the face as he hurriedly bent to retrieve his fallen towel and I moved to cover my eyes at the same time. He stumbled back and I grabbed his hand to keep him from slipping in the tub. But given that he was about a foot and a half taller than me, and outweighed me by a lot, he pulled me into the shower with him as he, and many bottles of my bath products, fell.


It was bad. So fucking bad.


He landed on his side, curling both of us into the fall. I tried to stand up as soon as I could, but my feet slipped out from under me, causing me to fall to my knees as my brother lay there, unmoving. He'd fallen hard, the wind knocked out of him in the chaos of five seconds.


It put me into pure panic mode and I wanted to get the fuck out of the tub as fast as possible. My hand pushed on my brother's cock as I tried to get to my feet in the slick tub. He groaned as I tried to push off of him before his hand came up to my wrist and yanked it away from him. I think I might've been putting all my weight on him as I tried to stand.


I was crying in the bottom of the tub, T-shirt and panties soaked through with a mix of water and the slick substance coating the tub. I tried to stand again, but slipped and fell into the tub beside him, then I turned onto my back and stared at the ceiling, utterly defeated and morbidly embarrassed.


My cheeks were burning red and tears were imminent.


My brother drew a deep breath then tried to stand. He failed and landed on me hard enough to make me groan in pain as his knee came down on my stomach. His foot slipped out from under him then he was laying on top of me, his full weight fucking crushing me.


He started laughing as he tried to lift himself up so I could breathe. “Your baby oil spilled. Fuck, just let me think for a minute. We can get out without Mom finding us like this…”

 

[nice90sguy]

Write a kink you don't have.

Write degradation in the context of a clearly loving, consensual relationship, and I'd take it as a personal favor if there were some high heels involved

Sorry, which one do you want me to do ?

 

[NoTalentHack]

Okay, I'm not going to pitch in here with a whole short, but seeing the thread made me think about what I might write, which led me to cock cages (something I get intellectually but don't do a thing for me kink-wise), which caused the most wonderful/awful title to force itself into my head: "I Know Why the Caged Cock Sings." I'm sorry, Maya Angelou. I'm so sorry.

 

[joy_of_cooking]

Sorry, which one do you want me to do ?

Your choice. Some people said open ended prompts were harder so I provided a more specific prompt that would hopefully also be consistent with the original prompt for most people.

 

[nice90sguy]

Your choice. Some people said open ended prompts were harder so I provided a more specific prompt that would hopefully also be consistent with the original prompt for most people.

Ah ok it's not consistent with the original prompt for me

 

[joy_of_cooking]

Ah ok it's not consistent with the original prompt for me

Yeah I remember

 

[StillStunned]

@joy_of_cooking We're still waiting for your own submission...

 

[Kumquatqueen]

I may get round to this, but in the meantime feel free to read my story Strength is a Caged Cock, for examples of fetishes and what some might call degradation, within a loving relationship.

 

[StillStunned]

Waiting for the wife to get home from work, so here's another one. 478 words.

As Will was tying the girl to his bed, he realised that he couldn’t remember her name. She’d told him, of course, when they fell into conversation at the bar. But the music had been loud, and most of his attention had been taken up by her low-cut blouse.

Not that it mattered now, of course. And he wasn’t to ask her. Perhaps it would come back to him later. For now, he had more pressing things to think of.

She watched as he fastened the cuff on her left wrist to the headboard, then moved to her right hand and did the same. She didn’t speak, just watched. Her cheeks were coloured by a slight flush – of anticipation? He hoped so. His own anticipation was sending shivers along his spine.

He took another of the cuffs and turned round to face her feet. Her feet. Forcing his mind to focus on what he was doing, he ran his fingers along the smooth skin of her right leg, all the way down to her ankle.

In a practised move he wrapped the cuff around her, making sure not to linger. Next was the other foot, then he stood and looked at her.

She was spreadeagled on the bed, naked, waiting. The flush on her cheeks was more pronounced, but his eyes went lower.

Neck. Chest. The swell of her breasts, her pink nipples. The soft curve of her stomach, the patch of trimmed hairs below, dark lips peeping out.

Thighs, firm and soft in equal measure, with the flesh of her arse flattened beneath her. Knees, so often overlooked in the game of love. Then her taught calves, pulled down by the cuffs around… her ankles. Her ankles, and then her feet.

He reached out a hand to stroke the one closest to him. Her left one. It twitched, as if his fingers tickled. “Shh,” he whispered. The foot went still.

Softly, gently, he stroked it with his rough fingers. It was slim. The lines left by her shoe were still visible. The nails were painted. She’d had a pedicure not long ago, he could tell.

He brought his face closer. Inhaling deeply, he shut his eyes and let the scent of her fill his mind. Leather, sweat, a long day on her feet. It was intoxicating.

Opening his mouth, he ran his tongue lightly along the underside of her sole. The taste was the perfect complement to her scent. Equally intoxicating. Equally arousing.

Debs. That was her name. It was a relief to remember, if only because it had been worrying at the back of his mind.

Feeling that he deserved a reward, he raised his tongue to her toes. Her scent was strongest here. Taking one last breath, he sucked her big toe into his mouth. His soft moan was echoed by a gasp from Debs.

 

[joy_of_cooking]

500 words exactly. Although does anal even count as a kink anymore?

He had been concerned when she first brought out the restraints. Not that he didn't enjoy her little games, but tonight was supposed to be different.

"Just to be safe," she said. "I want to make sure I'm in control."

He remembered how much smaller than his own cock the first plug had been, how gingerly he'd eased it in nonetheless. He was glad now she'd insisted he do the training with her. He wouldn't have understood otherwise.

Lying back, he let her put him into a frog tie, legs bound in a folded position to each side, wrists secured to his ankles on the same side. She put a finger to the tip of his cock, already wet with precum. Bondage always got him going.

"Thrust if you can."

He strained uselessly. She giggled.

"Good boy." Leaning over, she let a long stream of drool fall onto his cock.

"Spit's not a great lube," he warned her, concerned.

"But cum is." Winking, she wrapped her hand around him. "Tell me when."

The sheer ingenuity of her cruelty had him on the edge barely a minute later.

"Are you sure you want me to stop?" she asked. "I could keep going, take you in my mouth, suck you dry---"

"No, please stop! Please ruin it!"

She let go. They watched the white cream well up. She directed it into a shot glass. It ran down the side and pooled at the bottom. He felt nothing. His cock remained proudly erect.

She examined the glass. "I don't know if this is enough, honey."

He whimpered as she grasped him again.

And again.

Disaster struck the fourth time. He was incoherent by then. From his mouth came only a continuous whining noise. He didn't warn her. His entire body spasmed. She snatched her hand away, but it was too late. Cum spurted. He screamed wordlessly.

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. You didn't say anything." She peered thoughtfully into the shot glass. "Although...It'd be a shame to waste it, don't you think? Three weeks worth of cum."

She gave him the most innocent of looks. He stared at her in shock. Her lips twitched. The blood drained from his face.

"No," he said. Then, his tone admiring, "You fucking bitch."

She burst into laughter. "Oh, come on. You had to know this was coming. It's like every single caption ever."

"Fuck you!"

She had it ready in the nightstand. She buckled it around her waist, tightened the straps, smiled sadistically down at him. "Last chance, honey. You gonna wimp out on me?"

He let his head flop back onto the bed. Staring straight up, he asked, "You'll be gentle?"

"At first." She snickered.

He looked at her. "No, seriously."

The smirk fell off her face. She took his hand and squeezed. "Yes, of course. We don't have to use the cum, either. I have like a liter of real lube."

He let out a long-suffering sigh. "You can use the cum."

 

[Jackie.Hikaru]

180-ish words. A scene that follows my excerpt written for @nice90sguy's writing exercise, depicting my naughty MC's emotions in the refractory after enjoying her dirty little kink:


At the crest of my rapture, birds that had been roosting in the trees just outside my quarters made a terrible noise, rustling the branches as they fluttered off, spiking a fear through my heart that if I had made so much noise as to startle the birds, that I might have stirred awake my lady.

I held my breath to listen for any signs that my fear had been realized. Only after an eternity of hearing nothing but her gentle sleep-breathing through the paper thin wall that separated us, did I breathe a sigh of relief. The warm buzzing feeling of rapture crept back in, but soon that was overcome by a stomach-wrenching disgust, as if a bright spotlight illuminated my dark fantasy to reveal all the ugliness I could not see before. Suddenly, I saw that my act was not only wrong, it was impure. Weak. Sinful. And worst of all, exactly what Lady Emon would expect of me -- a dirty servant girl wallowing in her dirty little hovel.

Wrought with so much disgust at myself, I was tempted to spring from my bed at this late hour of the night to take her stockings into the woods and fling them into the creek. But I didn't do that. I couldn't bring myself to. Instead, I kept my lady’s soiled stockings pressed against my face and allowed myself more wallowing.