•June 14, 2007 • Leave a Comment

i am going to combine this blog with my normal blog.

please update your blogrolls to point to my blog:

i will be working on this almost immediately and will hopefully have things moved by the end of this weekend.

all Deviant Dreams’ posts will be under the category of “Deviant” on the other blog.

thank you for your dedication and support.

absence makes…

•June 11, 2007 • 3 Comments

as i have been gone on and off it is rare that i actually have to sit and wait for him. when he told me he was leaving it did not dawn on me at that moment. perhaps it was i actually had a quiet weekend but it really struck me. was it the fact that he had to tell me he was leaving? did he really want that thought to sit in the back of my mind?

it actually worked. i missed him.

quietly he returned and i smiled with content. we exchange the sweetness of the lack of connection. i taunt him with thoughts of death, fluids and storage. without much effort he is hard, he is needy and as always my slut.

i watch him unzip his jeans, i see the obvious bulge that lies beneath the denim.

“i jerked off for you in the shower, but i didn’t cum,” he tells me.

he reaches in his jeans and pulls his cock and balls out. i watch his left hand stroke the hardness and trace the length. my hand creeps down between my legs and i push the fabric of my panties against my tingling skin.

“hurt for me,” i tell him.

without the slightest of hesitation his hand wraps around his balls and he squeezes till he almost doubles over in pain. i watch both of his hands curl in utter pain. i watch his cock leap at the pain and i cannot withhold my smile.

“wanna cum baby?” i feel nice tonight and it is late. for some reason i don’t want to send him to bed without my cum seeping from the cock that i own.

“may i, Grace?” he asks eager, but not too eager.


the thing that amazes me with V is his response to cum exactly when i tell him to. normally i would come with him but not tonight. i just want to watch the cum spurt from his hardness. i enjoy watching him and how he grips the base of his hardness right before he releases. it is like being proud of your pet doing a trick.

the key (iv)

•May 24, 2007 • 1 Comment

i glared back into his eye with the slightest of a snarl to my lip. he knew not to press his luck with his strip tease. his fingers ever so methodically unbuttoned his jeans. slowly the zipper was pulled down with his finger tips. so many times i have watched him do this and i am always anxious to see what lies behind the fabric. it is always a rush of newness each time. one hand was holding the pants up as the zipper continued to spread the denim apart. when the zipper reached the bottom his hand slipped inside the material as he gripped his cock and slowly pulled it out keeping it covered with his hand as much as possible. the hand holding up the jeans released and the pants fell around his ankles. both hands now encased his hard on as he stepped out of his pants.

NOTE: my apologies for being so short, i need to get some focus time to finish it.

the key (iii)

•April 19, 2007 • 5 Comments

we walked silently down the long hallway to the very end. i stood out of the way and waited for him to fidget the door open.

“we need to…” he started to stammer.

“to what?” i said sweetly as i pushed the door open. the suite had been arranged from its normal decor. the room was low lit and there was one chair that sat several feet from the edge of the bed. i went towards it and sat down.

“w-we should talk about this.” he pushed from his lips. he stood before me looking down at me into my eyes. i studied the look on his face. i knew him too well and read him like a book.

“there is nothing to talk about, you are here in my room standing before me. if you had a change of heart you wouldn’t have met me in the first place.” he blinked and looked a little shocked. “since you must know what is going on i will only tell you this…i won’t touch your flesh with my own. does that put your guilty married mind at ease slut?” he drew in a long, quiet breath through barely parted lips. he nodded his head up and down. “good, now that we got that out of the way…strip.”

i crossed my legs and leaned back into the chair resting my head on the back tilting it to the left starring at him like a television screen. he stood there for a moment dumbfounded then suddenly snapped out of his trance. “oh, one more thing,” i said as a matter of fact, “if you tell me to touch you, to hurt you…i will.” my mouth twisted in a wicked grin.

“bitch.” he muttered as he pulled his shirt open button by button and laying it flat on the bed. he pushed his shoes and socks off pushing them out of the way. he saved his jeans for last. he always does and i glanced from his face to the bulge that pressed against he denim. my eyebrow went up as my eyes drew back up to the portals into his soul.

“every time huh?” i pushed from my lips in a breathy tone.

he smiled and nodded as his hand stroked the hardness. my eyes were fixated on the 5 fingers running the length of his hidden cock. he made sure to use his left hand as i watched the flash of the gold band hitting against the low light of the room. i shifted in my seat as my lips parted slighted to make way for my slowly ragged breathing. my eyes narrowed as i intently watched him  grip, glide and tease me with his show, my front row show.

the key (ii)

•April 18, 2007 • 1 Comment

i stopped talking for a moment and smiled with warmness at him.

“g-grace,” he said in a tone that was very questioning and unsure. he looked at me in all seriousness but nothing came out of his mouth beside the quiet blurting of my name.

i starred at him with a smile on my face, “shall we?” i got up from my chair and started to head towards the elevators.

“g-grace, you forgot your key,” he said scrambling to catch up with me and holding out the key in my view.

i stopped in my path and glanced at my watch. “yes, we will be needing that. will you hold on to it for me?” i gave him another grin, i could see the mix of confusion and slight intrigue.

“grace…,” he blurted out again.

“yes, i am well aware of my own name. now let’s catch this one before we have to wait, you know i hate to wait.” i rushed towards the opening doors. he followed me with a bit of hesitation. i pushed the floor number and up we went. i leaned against the shiny, polished wall and observed his nervousness. he was tapping the key card on his open palm and every so many taps would hit ever so nicely against his ring. i smiled as i watched the card tap, tap. he was watching the lights flicker from number to number.

“i think we need to talk…”, he said once he noticed i was watching him and wrapped his hand around the key.

“there is absolutely nothing to talk about. you trust me don’t you?” my face was straight and confident.


“good, this is our stop.” as i walked through the opening doors and down the hallway.

the key (i)

•April 11, 2007 • 3 Comments

our eyes met and he sat down across from me at the small table. we started to talk about nothing and laugh lightly. when the waitress brought the coffees and set them down his eye noticed the key card on the table. quickly he shifted his eyes as i continued talking without pausing. maybe it was at that point that the malice formed in my eyes or it had been there since he arrived. every so many words his eyes would shift to the key and back to me, down to his coffee and he would shift in his seat. his right hand started to roll his wedding band around his finger. he was making a decision or was he wondering if that had already been made for him?

i knew he was no longer listening to the words that flowed from my lips. yet, i continued talking about absolute none sense and he would nod his head every so many words. his body may have belonged to her but we both knew very well that his soul belonged to me. it was almost cute watching him fidget and ponder. i even saw him look up to eye the elevators that led up to the rooms. was he counting how many steps would it take? was it an equal amount to the exit of the cafe?

i watched him stop rolling his ring around his finger and he took a long sip of his coffee. i kept talking, observing his movements and eyes constantly shifting with nervousness. i sat there calm, calculated and knew very well what i was doing to him. moreover, what i was going to do to him.


•April 10, 2007 • 3 Comments

i have what i think she’s been waiting for. she is patient (as i am not) because of her confidence in my complience with her wishes. i told her i had something for her. “why haven’t you sent it?,” she asked. it’s a good question. for some reason i feel the need to be there when she gets it. it’s a little too…i’m not sure of the word and the one that comes to mind feels slightly over dramatic. anyway, i can’t just send it off to her and wait. i need to know that she’s there. i need to have my ears scratched. i need her comforting hand. i need her words. i need her.

she will be pleased with me, perhaps not for making her wait but with the gift i give her.

i’ve already written the circumstances and when she opens her gift (and if she wishes) i’ll post it. (the story, not the gift).

(as i write this, i can hear her – “you really are a bitch, aren’t you, baby. so fucking sensitive and needy. so coy. so girly. so easy and satisfying to hurt. i cut you a cunt yet, baby. you’ll see. and when i do, i’ll dress you up and let you show it off. that what you want, isn’t it, slut? you fucking whore.”)

-Written by V, from his blog: Grace’s Plaything¬†