Someone asked me how many sex scenes I'd written. Well. This was my reply:
I didn't think I'd have as many sex scenes as I do, but I'm still boggled about it.
My female MC (FMC), and male MC (MMC), discovered they were a perfect match for BDSM play, so she whipped him, embarrassed him, made him cum, and forced him to lick it up. A little later she whipped him until he was ready to collapse and then put on a strap-on and had her vicious way with him. And of course, he liked it.
Then my FMC's 'mentor' (Master more like, really), came into the scene to come 'teach' his favorite student a new thing or two. MMC gets jealous and upset because he's the only slave she should have (argh!). He goes home and reminisces about why he's the way he is -- his background is that his first time having sex was because the Ice Queen of his school liked the way he sported a hard-on every time he got embarrassed or humiliated (poor kid didn't know how to control himself!), so she ordered some of her male Jock minions to pin him down to the ground while she cut his jeans (yes, that's right, cut his jeans, close to his goods. He was afraid she was going to make a eunuch out of him but was also terribly excited at the thought), he came, then she sucked him off, mounted him, rode him, got him off again, got herself off, then walked away sneering and with the jock minions gaping.
He also almost bit his lip off. His mother wanted to scream at his appearance.
Shortly after that scene we get a little tiddy bit of FMC with her 'Master', playing some hardcore whipping game. After that, MMC gets jealous and decides he needs to stop being like a slave and take control, so he goes to find this girl with a tongue ring who had shown interest in him earlier -- he has her replace her tongue ring with a claw earring and then give him a blow job (painful... but he loved it!).
And it's in the middle of a cafe. And Taryn and her master walk in. Drama ensues.
...
As of now I am writing about their love making make up scene.
:| Holy...
No, I don't know why that last diary entry was funny. It just was.
3k words to go until I meet quota!
"Do you always have to be such a hospitable hostess?"
"It makes up for the bedroom activities."
Ahahahaha. I crack myself up.
Fuck, yes!
I had writers block for 2 days and finally, a break through. It was just... horrible.
I have never written something so long or so awesome before.
I just... I must share this unedited piece with you people:
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Anthony walked up to his apartment, sitting himself in a char beside the window. His head knocked gently against it as he rocked, the fire crackling behind him and stifling his breathing. His thinking.
He sighed and gazed out. He thought he had pleased her, but apparently he did not. With a gentle mental slapping he corrected himself; he did please her, but Master Torsten pleased her more. Or, did he just excite her more? He didn’t know or quite understand.
His fingers played with the nail sticking from the windowsill, thinking whether or not it would be appropriate for him to use it to cut himself as punishment for his lack of obedience. Or whatever it was that she needed.
The memory of his own adolescence began to swim before his eyes. Where he had failed in being dominant and controlling, he succeeded in bending over backwards. While he doted on girlfriends for no other reason than to please them, caring more for their feelings than his own, other boys were out groping them for pleasuring themselves and wondering who was going to give them their next lay.
For however much he doted on those women, he could never please them enough. He lacked that ability for control. One even went as far as to tell him that while he appeared confidence and as if he had the ability to take a girl he wanted, he couldn’t do it. Anthony did not understand that this was criticism, not praise.
His mother had often ordered him about, as well as his sisters. Growing up in an upper middle-class neighborhood with a mother, two sisters, and a father had made him somewhat weak to the force of estrogen. The advice his father often gave him was, “Listen to the women; they have the brains to think of orders and the ability to carry them out just as well as any man.”
Anthony sighed, pressing his cheek against the class and his palm into the nail. The nail punctured his skin and he shivered as he reminisced. He wasn’t so sure where this need for pain came from. He had never cut his wrists but he always noticed that he preferred being uncomfortable to comfortable; embarrassment often excited him…
That girl he knew, his first, often wore skirts and knee-high stockings, and leather jackets. It was a look she could pull off with ease. Among the more popular girls, she had the ability to order people to do her bidding. Anthony was not among the popular kids; he was often teased for his indifference to pain. He sported a good hard-on more than once for being embarrassed publicly.
There was one day when he was being teased, cornered behind the school building after school. The boys were teasing him for crying out in ecstasy after accidentally nicking himself with a staple-remover
She took note until one day, she decided she wanted him; it was the day he lost his virginity. Conniving and sinister, her hair flowed in blue-black waves behind her and her brown eyes were so dark they were black. Olive skin fit perfectly on her lush, well-developed form. She was so popular because of that form; but also because of her incredibly cruel nature.
Threats ensued as she made the boys touch him, forcing him to the ground behind the school. They spread him out at the limbs, pinning him down. He only struggled for the show, but his hard-on was clear now, constricted in his jeans. He panted heavily, eyeing Cassandra crazily, not saying a word. She stood over him, casting shadows on some of the boys, before she removed her jacket and unbuttoned her short, showing them an eyeful of cleavage. Black lace panties were what she wore; she eased them off and let them fall from her knees. She was exposing herself to five boys, one being a strange masochist, and she had nothing to fear. The cruel ice in her eyes was almost enough to freeze hell over.
She removed a pair of scissors from her pack as she bent over Anthony, sticking them in his pants. Even as he broke out into a sweat, he half worried if she would make a eunuch out of him, but he was also partially excited. While he wasn’t homosexual or even bisexual, he was curious about all kinds of pain.
His hips moved in response, closer to the scissors. She was slightly surprised, but snipped his jeans away and open.
“Do you like that, you faggot boy?” she screamed at him, the excitement making her own face flushed.
He nodded and fell back, his spine bowing at hearing her voice. He moaned as he came, making a mess of his pants; he remained hard.
A pleasured gasp escaped from her full lips, while dead silence fell on the other boys. She ordered them to keep holding onto ‘the little faggot boy.’
“You like being hurt and touched, don’t you? What a man you’ll make!” She tore open his jeans and let free his glistening cock, and licked her lips in anticipation. Twitching slightly, her lips lowered to his shaft, and she gulped him whole, making him moan and gasp more, shoving his hips up into her face. She pulled away and bit down lightly, but still hard, on his cock and as he screamed, she reached up and covered his mouth.
“He didn’t even soften, not in the least.” Surprise passed over her features before being replaced with cruel intent. She moved her way up his body like a jaguar, leaning down to kiss him and bite his lip as she mounted on him. The boys around them let go but formed a circle, gazing on at wonder. Anthony’s mouth twitched but he opened and let his tongue probe hers eagerly; she bit down on his tongue and his hands moved to grasp her thighs and bottom, nails digging in and dragging her along his shaft, his hips moving in heated response.
A delicate movement of her lips is what made her a good kisser; it kept him on his toes. When she moved her lips and tongue to envelope his bottom lip and bite it almost clean off, he cried out as he came, having sped his thrusts up against her. He felt the gentle vibrations around her own walls and the shudder of her body as she gasped, pulling away with a flip of her luxurious hair, her face wrought with pleasure, her chin dribbled with his blood. As she finished she looked down at him, her cheeks red and flushed, then over her shoulder at the boy; a small chuckle escaped her as she dismounted from Anthony, grabbing her panties and putting them back on, smoothly buttoning her shirt up.
She nodded at one boy, “Pick up my bag and jacket, faggot.” She looked back at Anthony. “That’s the first time a guy made me cum. Well done, slave.”
Anthony moaned at the name, shuddering and staying down, stars in his eyes. He didn’t care much for the sex; it was the cruel kissing and the beating he took that made it so exciting.
His mother nearly screamed when she saw his appearance; his lip was bleeding and there were bruises on his limbs and neck. The worst of it was that his jeans were cut, close enough to his crotch that he was almost exposed; but there was blood spilled, from where he had scratched Cassandra so hard. It looked as if someone had really made him a eunuch.
The nail was almost pushed through Anthony’s hand, but as he pulled from his reverie, he removed it. His hard-on stuck against the side of his thigh and he stroked himself through his jeans, before he remember Taryn. He wondered if she would even think of him tonight.
I just barely missed the 10k word quota for today.
10013 words so far. Wootwoot!
Writing a sex scene between two beautiful characters is proving to be more difficult than expected. Damn.
My story has no plot, but I finally put some humor into it.
An excerpt:
Shivering, she stepped out of her apartment, locking the door with shaking hands and some difficulty. The iPod she wore around her waist, her earphones secure and her feet aching for movement. With a deep, shuddering breath, she ran down her stairs and turned left; not normal for her, as she usually went right, into the city.
She ran from the city for whatever reason; because of regrets or because she didn’t want to smile. The darkness enveloped her and she felt the sting in her ankles as the heat of her body overtook the cold. Her blood pumped wildly in her veins and she felt suddenly excited and exalted, ready to take on any battles. The music in her ears drummed a heavy, inspiring beat, and she ran all the faster for it, her fingernails biting her palms and her teeth grinding to fight the exhaustion. Taryn was not ready to lose the battle.
She rounded the corner of a bakery sharply, and was met full force with another person. Her nose met full force with the person’s chest, or what she thought was a person’s chest. She fell back onto the ground, her nose freely bleeding. She touched the warm liquid gushing from her, blinking the white, dazzling lights from her eyes, up at the so-called ‘victim’.
He was carrying a box and he threw it down and ran to her, asking if she was okay. She removed her naked hand and saw it covered in blood, and then felt her nose. Bruised, bleeding, but not broken, she decided. The person she had run into was a dock handler; he was piling boxes into a truck and she had run full-force into a crate full of calculators.
Her eyes hurt and it was difficult to blink properly. She heard someone moaned and realized a moment later that it was her. She sat up as the man patted her to wakefulness. She frowned and then winced in pain, tears swelling slightly in her eyes.
“Why the hell were you running like that?” the man asked her.
With a dazed expression she looked back at him. “What kind of question is that?”
He frowned and lifted her to her feet. “What do you mean, ‘What kind of question is that?’ I was just minding my own business!”
Taryn felt for her nose to make sure it had not fallen off, then wobbled on her feet before leaning against the building. She looked up and read, “Bittersweet Bakery.”
“I mean…” she swallowed blood, gulping. “Why are you loading calculators into a bakery?”
“Well, uh… I read the directions wrong, see. Sometimes I get a little confused. Dyslexia, I can’t really help it.”
“Maybe you should get your addresses written in numbers and not letters.”
“I didn’t ask for any sass and can’t help my disease. There’s no need to be cruel.” He bristled before turning away to pick up his crate. He looked at it and commented, “You left a swell mark in the wood, though.”
----
The irony of a dyslexic man loading crates of calculators into a bakery because he read directions wrong just tickles me pink.
The biggest story I have ever written has been just a bit shy of 6,000 words. 2,000 words in and I'm stuck. I need to go buy some books and work on my plot development.
In any case, I care more for quality than quantity at the moment. But so help me may God strike me down Himself if I don't get to at least 5,000 words by tonight! IT WILL HAPPEN!
I follow very closely to what the lead singer of Fall Out Boy, Patrick Stump, does. It's not an obsession. It's not a serial killer kind of thing. It's not even really a fan-girl thing. Screw the other band members; I just want to know what Mr. Stump is doing.
I think Patrick Stump is the best looking of the group. I have a thing for the slightly-chubb
His voice.
Some may think the lead singer of Panic! at the Disco has a good voice (whatever the hell his name is), but they are wrong. His voice is nice and smooth with just a bit of a treble to it, but where's the real emotion? It's just a bunch of notes off a page. That is obvious.
So, I follow closely to see what Mr. Stump has been up to; specifically, I don't care much of his personal life. I care more for his career and what songs he has sung in recently. He's probably got a girlfriend and is completely happy. Well break my damn heart. He's 21-22ish and I'm 17. Not. Gonna. Happen.
Doesn't mean I can't enjoy his voice and his development. From his first 'big' CD, that being Take This To Your Grave, his voice was still being formed. It was hesitant. It was weak. It was gorgeous.
Then, in FUCT, he was better. He sounded more like the guy from P!ATD, but with a more manly voice and less "I'm just doing this to impress you". His voice was strong, it was ready. It was beautiful.
Since FUCT, I have been in love with the band. I was for their first CD, but it wasn't the gut-wrenching emptiness in the pit of my stomach as it holed up into an electric ball of excitement that FUCT gave me.
Fall Out Boy is not my 'type' of band. I do enjoy punk rock and alternative, but the emo stuff and pop punk does not appeal. Okay, your mother died and your father left you. At least you didn't have to go through what Shasta did. Get over it.
The reason why I like Fall Out Boy so much is because OF Patrick Stump. I have a serious reaction to his action (that being, his voice). His progression over time has been amazing. His new songs he sings in... put simply, gives my ears an orgasm to listen to. Especially in "Don't Wake Me Up" with The Hush Sound.
I get goosebumps. I get shaky. I get breathless. This is a good voice. This is what makes the song. This is what I love so much. This is a voice that can belong to any kind of music, it being rap, emo, hardcore, new age... whatever. It fits.
Should I ever be able to ask Mr. Stump face to face about how he feels about being a singer... I would feel so lucky. I don't need to marry him. I don't need to fuck him. I don't even need to touch him. A conversation would more than appease me. That, or a song called, 'Emily'. That isn't about heartbreak.
So there, you have my explanation. The first musical voice that could make me feel sick, make my knees water, and put that empty feeling in my stomach... and make me love it. Patrick Stump.
People who posts pictures of their dead pets "in loving memory" are lacking in social relations with other people.
If I find anyone stealing this, I shall be incredibly sore. And you won't much like hearing from me.
I've been calling it "Sweetheart" so far. Unfinished.
The Prestige... was... fucking fantastic ><
Today was the first day I had ever been in an accident.
Matt can't drive everyone around and Wednesday is "Subway day"... we all pile into the car and go get lunch at Subway. Matt, Elyse, Zach, and Pearly were in the car and I was driving since I'm the only one with a license which allows me to drive that many people around legally.
So I was pulling into the Subway lot and was going to back up into a parking spot, and I reached down to put the car in reverse, when suddenly I got jolted and I got a sharp pain in my side which has slowly spread over my back since I've been sat down.
Some poor fool backed up into us. I suppose he didn't see us there, but he should have been looking in his rearview mirror to double check anyway. He got a busted back light (but it still worked), while the Jeep suffered an indent in the driver side bender. The driver's side door is a bit difficult to open and shut now, but nothing bad. Fenders are fairly cheap.
We exchanged information. I was stumbling a little uncontrollably but I was too numb and shaken up to feel anything. About half way through 5th period I started getting a sharp ache in my side, but after some deep breathing I controlled it. Matt and I went to the video store and my back started aching badly. It's hurting pretty badly right now. If it stiffens up anymore tomorrow I'll go to the doctor to get it checked out, but I'm sure I'll be fine.
I called my mom as soon as I got to school and told her everything. Then I had Matt call his dad. His dad asked for the boy's name and then realised that he was good friends with the boy's mother and father, so there's nothing to worry insurance wise. Not for me, at least! I did nothing illegal and wasn't the person who backed up.
Bah.
Okay, I got like 10 text messages asking if Matt and I were going out/commenting about how cute we were...
So whoever is spreading these rumors... please stop. They're not funny.
Just for clarification: Matt and I have never made out!!!
Or kissed!
Or held hands!
Gr you people piss me off.
Wtf.
What the fuck.
Someone apparently saw Matt and I making out.
Right.
Wtf.
Nov. 17th, to the 2nd of December.
As quoted from someone who plays an "evil" character in my game (who we totally owned):
"Yeah, we kind of like... yeah. Yeah, we got owned. It's like that type of owning where you don't even have time to contemplate how badly you just got owned. You just get owned and look back at logs of it and are like... "Man, I got owned.""
What an awful morning I had.
I went to bed at 12, and I suppose I forgot to put my alarm clock on. Well, I didn't get up.
I woke up to the dog's annoying barking and was instantly pissed off. I open the door to see Matt, who was supposed to take me to school. I think my morning look scared the living daylights out of him.
ANYWAY.
It was 8:40 and school started at 9. So of course, that gives me 5 minutes to get ready. And of course, it takes me 10.
Boo. I was a mess. And I felt icky. Came home and took a 30 minute shower. It felt amazing.
Boo on me.
Next time I'll be up and ready for that bastard.
I should play Windwaker, but... too busy doing homework.
Cheers to essays. I'm so damn lazy.
I had a dream that I got to eat a caramel cheesecake drink from Black Tie.
I think I'm getting addicted.
I woke up at 8, and went back to bed until 2. It felt goooood. Played my game and got some experience (whoo!). But now I'm bored. I feel like going out tonight, but... I'm not sure.
Perhaps I'll go to real soda tomorrow. Maybe call up Krystal or find someone who wants to go...
Boo. So incredibly bored.
So... bored...