Decadent Divas: Birthday Fantasy Goes Horribly Wrong!

Happy birthday to you February babies!

I was born in February too. I'm a card-carrying picture-perfect Pisces. My creative juices usually come out in my books, but well, sometimes, they're released in other ways. I jotted this little scene last year. Why? Because I turned 50 and realized some of my darker fantasies were getting further and further out of reach. If you're like me, you have a list of kinky, dangerous, or simply romantic fantasies that you want to try before you die. I've got a bunch that probably won't happen, but they're nice motivation to keep up my remedial yoga classes. They make for excellent daydreams, but when it comes to actually doing these things, well ... The mind says YES! Let's do that! The out of shape body says UM, is that even physically possible now? Seriously? You'll never walk upright again!

Can you relate? If so, read on and chuckle with me.

BDSM Fantasy No. 1

Pain.

She was in pain.

And not the good kind either. This was ordinary pain. Stubbed toe, sprained ankle, pulled muscle kind of pain. It was the kind of pain that made you want to jump around holding the offending body part and swearing like the proverbial sailor. Or maybe a pirate if the toe happened to be the pinky and you ripped the nail off.

It was her birthday. This was her gift to herself. She was living a fantasy. Sure. That’s what she was telling herself over and over again in a desperate attempt to escape the pain.

The books never mention what happens when an out-of-shape middle-aged woman who’s had several babies is tied up for too long. Nope. They never describe how the sexy ropes dig into the cellulite, or how the knots press into just the right spot so you get a charley horse. Apparently no one in the books ever has to pee either. Probably she should’ve skipped that third glass of wine.

Those fictional pain junkies must be in great shape. Yoga or Pilates? Has to be one or the other, right? No one ever talks about cramping. In the books, these women have orgasms flying left and right while trussed up like a luau pig. Maybe she should’ve tried exercising before agreeing to this. A few stretches would’ve been a good idea. Ow. Her overly-tight hamstrings were screaming in protest. How far could they stretch before one of them snapped like a rubber band? No one in the books ever gets a cramp in their big toe either. She wiggled it and the cramp shot straight across the arch of her foot.

Hey, buddy, let’s hurry up with that orgasm so I can pee.

Really didn’t need that third glass. She tried to shift her thigh to the right with the hope that would take some pressure from her bladder before she embarrassed herself. She thought about smiling. Her dom for the night wanted to know if she squirted.

Well... not usually.

Totally oblivious to her inner monologue, said dom circled her while dragging the leather flogger across her ass. Hard to miss it, really. It was the size of a Fiat at the moment--A blindingly white Fiat that hadn’t seen the rays of the sun in, oh, maybe never.

So it was her birthday and here she was lying on her face, hands bound, legs bound, mouth gagged, wincing as sweat ran into her eyes. Her bare ass stuck straight in the air with her pussy hanging out for him to tease. He ran the handle of the flogger between her cheeks to tap the entrance to her backdoor. Or was the correct term ‘rosebud’ or ‘puckered love knot?’ Who the fuck cares? The tiny little hole folded in on itself in an attempt to remain ‘exit only.’ Tap, tap, tap.

Knock all you want, big bad wolf. This little door’s locked up tight.

Too bad her front door, pussy, cunt, channel, man cave, whatever the hell it was called, wasn’t as shy. It was twitching like an exposed electrical wire. Uh-oh. Every little movement tickled her bladder. The man in the mask chuckled again. The evil sound didn’t bode well. The last time he’d made that sound was just before he shoved the ball gag into her mouth. Squeezing her eyes shut and wishing she’d done more Kegels, she squealed in protest as a stream of cold, oily gunk flowed down the center of her crease.

“Hold still now. This is my favorite,” the dom said. He sounded so happy with himself.

What was he doing back there?

His next question answered hers. “How do you feel about butt plugs?”

No, No! Wait! That is not okay, mister!

Before she knew it, the tip of something much bigger than his finger nudged at the tight little opening. She stiffened and tried to move away. Busily twisting and turning the thing in her ass, he murmured something encouraging and no doubt bossy, before stopping to douse her in an extra glob of cold lube.

You know how when you have to pee really badly, and when you jump into the cold water of the pool, you have to pee more?

Um, yeah. It was just like that.

So it turns out she’s a squirter after all.