Chain Of Rules Act V

(To read Chain Of Rules Act IAct IIAct III or Act IV)

That first, shrill “EhhhhhHHHH!” when I roll Leigh’s nipples between my thumb and pointer finger is just divine.

And when those nipples are sitting atop arched, taut and thrust out breasts that are helpless against my whims and perversions, all the better. I adore, just fucking adore, how rigid they become when firmly rolled back and forth between my fingers.

It would seem like such a sophomoric play, but in actuality those two nipples present a multitude of erotic possibilities with potential to not just arouse but also torment, even torture them and their owner. So many variables to play with. How firmly do I squeeze them? Are they exceptionally hard? Do I gently apply pressure and tug on them, or perhaps pinch them? And if so, quickly or slowly, and for now long? Just once, or over and over and…

…it’s a lot of sadistic fun making Leigh a sopping mess this way.

And it does make her juices run. Many times a good nipple play session is all that is needed to ensure a wet, sloppy fuck.

(if you don’t believe me, after you finish this Act check out SDS. You’ll see)

Her stretched areola wrinkled like old newspaper beneath their proud, pointy head lines. Tweaking the intersection where nipples start and areola ends was especially fun, a whole new level of pain. To which Leigh added plenty of frantic squirming, pulling against the chains, pouty huffs of frustration and just general erotic misery in every conceivable fashion.

She may say she hates this, but she fucking loves it. And the aroma permeating the candlelit night air from her ripening cunt testified on my behalf, not hers.

Arousal by Nipple Torture. The verdict? Guilty. Her sentence? Hard time.

But that would be later. Right now court was still in session, with yours truly acting as judge, jury and executioner.

I pressed the fullness of my body against hers to not just lessen her ministrations but also savor them. Its one thing to watch and feel a part of her anatomy twist in the winds of sadomasochistic breast play, but to almost be an extension of her skin is quite another. It was if we were dancing, a most erotic, perverted dance but still two bodies moving in unison with one leading.

The intensity of her bound gyrations, laments and reactions to my hands on her nipples while my mouth devoured the nape of her neck was surreal. Her ass cheeks made short work of making my cock long, the hardness pressing almost painfully through the zipper of the faded jeans that stood between it and her flesh. She felt my arousal growing, both physically and emotionally, and was feeding off it just as I fed off her own soaked reaction.

With my mouth now adding a third way to abuse her, it was almost rhythmic how teeth, lips, breath, fingers, tongue and my mind were making her dance like a puppet on a chain.

“You fucking love this, don’t you cunt?” I whispered to her while grazing her earlobe between my teeth.

Silence except for the tunnnnggg sound of the chains being pulled tighter by her efforts to avoid my tactile and oral attack.

I squeezed both nipples hard. Pulling. Twisting. My fingers felt as if they touched. Add in a rather firm bite of her neck at the same time and..

“”AaaaaHHHHHHH!!!!” she cried out, obviously in pain.

After a quick release, I did it again. Harder.

“ShhhsshhSSSttTHHTHHSSTHHH!!!” was the outright hiss that escaped through her tightly clenched teeth, followed by panting and rapid, short breaths ragged with adrenaline and saliva. Now that I had her fucking attention I asked her again.

“You fucking love this, DON’T you cunt?”

“Yes Sir…” she quickly yet meekly offered.

Much better. I smiled, pleased.

Not long after some final tugs, twists and pinches she noticeably braced herself when my fingers left her nipples and all they could feel were the fingernails of my pointer fingers coiled tight against my thumbs.

She knew that sensation meant one thing.

That her delicate and already sore nipples were going to be flicked.

Go ahead. Right now. You don’t have to do it to any part of your anatomy, but take your pointer finger, bend it backwards and tuck it into your thumb’s fingerprint. Pretend there is something you want to flick. Now, with a concerted effort, make your pointer finger escape the catch your thumb is providing. Go on, do it.


Feel that release? How much energy is being expended and in a controlled, precise manner? I am willing to bet a fair number of you did that to your own nipple, you perverts. I respect that.

Um, you can stop now.

Now imagine that after they have been not just severely tormented but also that they are tight, hard and helplessly displayed. Keep that sensation in mind as you read on.

When you flick nipples its akin to flogging them with a single strand flogger. A single strand of an otherwise innocuous item moving at a significant rate of speed, with its very tip the only part making contact with what ever is in its path. Which in this case were Leigh’s proud nipples.

“Ohhhhhhh, you know what is coming, don’t you?” I whispered while gazing down over her shoulder at the points of interest.

Her lip a quivering, pouty ledge, all she managed to utter was a pathetic whimper from somewhere deep inside.

Then I paused. And waited.

Did nothing but breath on her.

The tension mounted. Grew. Suspense permeated the room. Leigh braced for the inevitable. Often it’s not what you do but when and how you don’t do a single fucking thing. This technique is especially effective with blindfold play. The theatre of the senses takes over. The mind fuck of anticipation is mouth watering.

The silence was deafening. Our hearts felt like one.

flick went my fingers.

Temporarily insane went my Leigh.


A Peek Back 8-18

I promised, after last’s weeks tangent on safe words, this week would be story intensive. So far I feel that I have honored my word.

Counting poetry, which is special to me in that it’s about one person and one person only (my Leigh), there are five new pieces of erotica to read. And, before midnight Sunday, there will be at least two more.

That would be, since I was in school the day they covered sevens, seven stories and poems in seven days. Its been a challenge to keystroke that much and have the confidence in them to click Publish. But I have enjoyed it, and from the page views so have you. There is a very good chance we could set a single week views record.

Very soon, likely in the next week or so, you will be all privy to some flogging stories, or at least one. Our initial foray into flog play went very well. Leigh was quite floaty, and I was rather proud of my neophyte efforts with the leathers. She has given this avenue the green light, so it’s very likely that as the days grow shorter our flogging stories will grow longer (heh).

I fucking love using it on her. Not gonna lie. But there is so much to learn and consider when using one. Practice, practice, practice. Plus Leigh has had a most unique challenge this week. You’ll read more about that as well.

If you’re a first time Peeker™ Leigh and I welcome you to your virginal peek through the keyhole. I strongly encourage you to view all of the established Pages, which can be viewed by selecting any of the tabs at the top of this page.

The Archives are an inclusive, running version of every post of note on this blog. If you have not read any or all of the stories, random musings, poetry, etc linked from The Archives by all means please grab a seat, perhaps a cup of coffee (we’re big on coffee) sit back and enjoy.

Speaking of coffee, read this week’s Peek Back as I get some more:

Interview With A Submission Vampire Vol.1 No.12 – In leu of a Peeker™ question I accepted another blogging award. This means ten more pieces of Scot Trivia…sigh.

The Greatest Coffee Excuse Is 6 AM Monday – Considering I was barely awake this week’s assortment of random musings was pretty good.

Drip Drop – An erotic poem inspired by the candlelit vision that was Leigh’s chained, spread eagle pose.

Scenesounds – While we haven’t added music to scenes, this is why and also some we might when we do.

The Butterfly Chains Act II – My sadistic plans took an unexpected turn when Leigh’s erotic beauty cast a spell.

An Erotic World Champion Poet – My poem Drip Drop was featured in a cleverly named ePub. I’m totally claiming this.

Breaking Leigh Act XI – The final act in the longest story on the blog, and a very special one to me personally.

Breaking Leigh – Epilogue – The postscript to the above. What happened later that night plus some thoughts on the story.

My Alabaster Doll – Another piece of erotic poetry, this time regarding the flogging of Leigh’s beautifully displayed breasts.

One last thing, a confession if you will. I’m actually typing this Friday evening. Oh, I didn’t lie about getting more coffee. I am. Just not as I prepare to finalize this so I can sleep in with my doll.

Am I sorry to have possibly told a creative truth earlier?


– Scot

My Alabaster Doll

Your throat offered proudly as

you knelt in the shadows of

submission to my leather ways and

candlelit nights ablaze with the

promises whispered in the dark

hiding moans inside you

all this time I will

I must I crave your

wrists proudly behind

your torso awash in

warmth and leather biting

breasts so taut with ache from

sting you crave you must you

will it to be live breathe when

flogging my alabaster doll with

strokes of leather paint a

masterpiece of erotic beauty the likes of

which nipple to ripen with

strokes biting you

float away doll I’ll stay and

fuck these gentle curves to

silent frenzied screams inside

you better not make a fucking

sound of my cock deep

inside it growls snarls hisses

all over my alabaster doll with

white venom pulsing from

somewhere blacker than

the leather on the floor

– Scot (recalling the prior evening in which Leigh and I played with the flogger)

A Peek Back 8-4

Is whupped an acceptable term?

I was that in spades last night. Even hearts. Work whupped me. How much so? It was a chore to sit down, which I hadn’t done all day. The floor beckoned like a siren to the rocks. Well they were actually pillows from the couch.

What, you’ve never jumped from one couch to another to avoid the lava flow river below?

Anyway, I had planned to write Act X of Breaking Leigh, the one where depending on my word count  (I try to keep posts to just over 1000 words) it was very likely the tears might finally flow. But, alas, my brain was so much overcooked oatmeal that I chose not to write.

I will never just vomit words to create content, be a slave to page views, etc., nor I am interested in accumulating scores of Peekers™ for the sake of scores of Peekers™.  If people wish to peek through the keyhole, they are welcome. If their own social networking efforts appeal to me, I will Follow back.

Coffee….more….coffee. Ahhhhhh…

If you’re a neophyte Peeker™ Leigh and I welcome you to your initial peeks through the keyhole. I strongly encourage you to view all of the established Pages, which can be viewed by selecting any of the tabs at the top of this page.

The Archives are an inclusive, running version of every post of note on this blog. If you have not read any or all of the stories, random musings, poetry, etc linked from The Archives by all means please grab a seat, perhaps some coffee (we’re big on coffee), sit back and enjoy.

So hoping I stay awake long enough to Publish this, here is this week’s Peek Back:

Interview With A Submission Vampire Vol.1 No.10 – Avid Peeker™ Kayla Lords wanted to know if we employed punishment in our D/s relationship. Now she knows the answer and why.

Monday Coffee Kickstart – Random musings on random topics with a barely functioning Dominant in need of a caffeine fix.

We’re Pink Leather Unicorn Awesome! Twice! – The most unique blog award image yet, more Scot  trivia (sigh) and a list of fucking awesome blogs you need to check out.

What Subspace Feels Like – The Fates decided we should hear this song. It shook us, as well as others from all the Comments.

I Inspired A Coffee Nooner – An off the cuff comment to romance author Miya Kressin on Twitter inspired her to write some java smut! You will never drink a latte the same every again, trust me.

Others Agree Subspace Feels Like That – Our .02 on the aforementioned song and subsequent post gets a feature mention in an ePaper!

Chain Of Rules Act IV – This latest act of the Chain Of Rules story focuses on two of Leigh’s most magnificent attributes not called eyes.

Seek And Go Hyde Act III – How hot is this? I needed to change my shirt after writing it. The Comments agree – probably the most scalding Act I’ve written thus far. Whew!

Just Cry – A very personal and special erotic poem for my doll, trying to capture a very personal and special moment.

I think I have the energy to click Publish. Maybe another cup of coffee will ensure you all read this today.

– Scot

Chain Of Rules Act IV

(To read Chain Of Rules Act IAct II or Act III)

Most, if not all of the time, I prefer the A in T&A.

What can I say? I’m a back door man. Given a choice, the south end of a north bound Leigh is where I want to be. Always have been, always will be. There is nothing I do not like about the curvature of an amazing female ass, and I definitely prefer it to breasts.

Well, almost always.

There is one way Leigh can make me a T Man in an instant. And keep in mind she buys bras in 40D which, in her words, “make The Girls™ look magnificent.” All she has to do is one thing and one thing only and I, in essence, lose about 100 IQ points and any form of social grace.

Who the fuck am I kidding? I transport back into being 13 year old Scot as far as being a hopeless slave to being titillated, literally. So what does she do to make me forget my…..

Who…oh yeah, Scot! My name! What does she have to do?


Thrust The Girls™ way out high, taut, tall and proud. Make them strain under the restrictions only provided by her flesh and velvety white skin. Firm, full, spitting in gravity’s face with a “Fuck You! These cannot be contained!” attitude, their pink nipples proudly capping gently wrinkled areola.

I. Lose. It. Just go fucking crazy when they are made firm, tight and aching to be touched.

Often in bed the act of her arms above her head is almost enough to do this. A subtle curvature of her spine upward will do the rest. And my hands will be on them like white on rice.

So you can imagine how, with her arms cuffed securely at full extension above her head, how spectacular the sweater ponies of the 40D Ranch reared up. Her nipples cast the most insane, eye rolling shadows across the jutting curvatures they resided upon. Candlelight is and always will be one of her best friends.

It was everything I could do to not have torn right into playing with them from the start. You know how they say in regards to parental punishment “This is going to hurt me more than it’s going to hurt you!” Well, I won’t go as far as to say I felt that way, nor did I believe for a second she was not going to be in less pain than I, but trust me I was fucking aching to play with her stretched, taut breasts.

After I finished the appetizer that was her arms, it was time for the first course. Make up your own culinary breast joke.

I walked behind her and allowed my hands to rest on the upper sweep of her thighs. Leaning in close I peered over her shoulder, my chin barely resting on it. Looking down her exposed torso from that view was breathtaking. Every goose bump was easily discernible, her skin ripe with adrenaline and anticipation.

She knew what was coming. And could not do a fucking thing about it.

The only thing left to make this perfect was, with barely a nudge of my chest, force her body to lean out against the full restraint of the chain’s tension. She couldn’t have shifted forward more than three or four inches.

But what it did for her breasts was exquisite. In essence her own body was now a form of breast bondage. Her skin stretched so fucking tight it lifted them out, up and full of the most delicious tension in their taut predicament.

“Ohhhhhhh, fuck baby!” I whispered as my hands started their snail’s pace ascent up her torso, reveling in the squirms and twists of her helplessness to avoid their delicate touch.

Her hips ground back into mine, the valley between her ass cheeks milking the erection hidden inside my faded jeans. My eyes widened at the sight of those two Girls™ straining hard into the candlelit night. Leigh’s breathing started to grow ragged, shorter, even shrill as my fingers danced up her torso. Closer and closer they approached her heaving bosoms, the swell of her distressed breathing causing them to grow even more strained, if that were possible.

I was going mad with lust at the sight, sounds and feel of her impending misfortune, or fortune if you so view it as such.

The Chains™ tunngggd as she pulled in vain to escape the inevitable. I love how she fought to no avail. She always does. She always loses to them.

That moment when the back of my thumbs first made contract with the underside of each breast was magic. Just fucking magic. So soft, full, lush, tender.

So close. So very fucking close.

I gently bit the nape of her neck, just allowing my teeth to scrape dryly across the skin’s surface. She cannot stand this. Its like turning the faucet on below. Hot breath mixed with a hint of saliva is a lethal combination that often precedes lethal injection, if you will. Sinking into my oral ministrations, her head leaned back and away from my mouth, which is exactly what I wanted. For not only did she offer me her rigid nape to devour, but she also gave me a much better view of what was going to happen.

The fact her head tilt stretched her chest even more was the icing on my evil cake.

I swear her breasts looked as if they were about to explode from the tension being applied both tactilely and internally. And the erection she was grinding her ass against wasn’t far behind.

With my mouth literally watering at the sight and anticipation, my hands started to snake over all that taut, voluptuous flesh, with only an excuse touching her extremely proud nipples.


“Hhmmmmmm” she cooed at the warmth now adoring her chest, all the while as my mouth devoured her neck and shoulder. I breathed hot and heavy at the sensations coursing from my fingertips. Gently, softly caressing, my open palms savoring this moment. Again and again my hands and fingers teased, stroked, kissed The Girls™ and made them cry. Over and over. Again. And again. It was maddening for us both.

With fingers wide I covered as much of each as I could, then firmly squeezed and kneaded them in a victorious exclamation to their surrender. Leigh melted into their grasp, slumping under the weight of the moment.

My thumbs and pointer fingers placed a nipple each in their stead. Not for pleasure. Oh no. Oh fuck no.

For pain.

Chain Of Rules Act V

A Peek Back 7-28

It’s true.

Famous actors always lament that the animals steal their best scenes. No ones remembers their performance, only how cute or funny the critter was.

It’s also true for bloggers who share sordid tales of BDSM lust, perversion and all things naughty. Write possibly the hottest Act you’ve ever keystroked in the blog’s short history and what lights up your Twitter TL like a Christmas tree the same day?

A fucking humor piece about our dog JD.

Just kidding. I’m glad JD’s initial (I’m sure you’ll hear from his nose again) post was so well received. As we always say, it does not have to be German opera 24/7 to be real BDSM and D/s.

And speaking of 24/7, did you know that is the reason for one of the following links? Curious? Read on.

For all you new Peekers™, every Saturday AM I share A Peek Back. This feature of TDND™ allows long time Followers as well as you neophyte perverts to review, with a single post,  what has transpired over the past seven days.

Oh, and I typing this Friday night so I can sleep while you read this. Or maybe I’ll be up (heh) early. Either way I’m being selfish with my time, but not at the expense of Peeker™ Nation, which is almost 400 strong now! We should get shirts printed….hhmmm.

If you are a neophyte Peeker™ welcome! I strongly encourage you to view all of the established Pages, which can be viewed by selecting any of the tabs at the top of this page.

The Archives are an inclusive, running version of every post of note on this blog. If you have not read any or all of the stories, random musings, poetry, etc linked from The Archives by all means please grab a seat, perhaps some coffee, sit back and enjoy.

So unless a fucking squirrel runs across my keyboard here are this week’s Peek Back features:

Interview With A Submission Vampire Vol.1, No. 9 – In which we tackle the age old question: plastic or glass anal plugs?

Monday’s Java Taste The Best – The weekly stream of semi-consciousness while in the midst of serious caffienation.

Chain Of Rules Act III – Leigh cuffed, collared and chained torment begins.

Seek And Go Hyde – The newest story. If you are a hand job aficionado you want to read this.

Happy International BDSM Day! – I seriously had no idea there was an official day for WIITWD.

Breaking Leigh Act IX – The longest story on the blog now finds Leigh’s completely bare and very sore ass spanked…hard.

When Words Die – An erotic poem inspired by the evening that inspired Seek And Go Hyde.

Seek And Go Hyde Act II – No bullshit. Possibly the hottest Act I have written yet. Even I needed to cool off after writing it!

The Dog Next Door – Meet JD. He chases squirrels, eats bacon, humorously blogs when I’m not looking and steals my limelight. SQUIRREL!

JD Is Famous! SQUIRREL! – Would you believe that fleabag got reblogged in a humor ePub?

A Rising Tide Floats All Boats – My obligatory post as a BDSM blogger about a certain neutral hued and much maligned book series. Not what you think.

I’m still either asleep or having morning sex! HA!

– Scot

Seek And Go Hyde

It was an erotic act of self-preservation that, to her chagrin, went totally wrong.

Just one night removed from not only having her arched and taut ass blistered by my hand but also her pouty little nipples twisted, sucked and tweeked, Leigh chose to be pro-active behind the bedroom door via one of her infamous oily hand jobs.

The fact that her cunt had been pounded viciously that fortnight only fueled her efforts to show her appreciation in a most delightfully tactile manner. She figured, knowing how much I adore her expert ministrations of my cock with her slick hand, that I would also be appreciative and show some mercy on her various sore orifices, protrusions and fleshy parts that delight in being spanked.

And to an extent she was right. As in right then her right hand felt oh so right.

I can’t help myself. She’s too tempting to just take. And I was in the process of doing just that through the exploration of her curves, still debating exactly what the fuck I was going to do to her, with her, on her, in her. She was receptive, her under the sheets ass grinding making a crow bar out of the flesh of my cock. As I have stated previously, there are erections, then there are Erections, and every now and then there are ERECTIONS.

I was ERECT. And it hurt so fucking good. When you have to briefly entertain the thought that the amount of blood trapped in your cock may actually cause its skin to rip from the pressure, that the veins are throbbing so hard you can take an accurate pulse…that is good pain. And the velvet that is her milky white skin had me downright giddy with the ache.

Leigh purred (I adore when she gets that way) as my hands traversed her curves. But the way she jumped when fingertips brushed nipples or made that short, shrill gasp of air when the same raked her ass cheeks with fingernail claws hinted at her conundrum of being very sore, yet also becoming extremely aroused.

That’s when she took matters into her own hands. Literally.

Sliding out of bed I just assumed she was going to the bathroom. Her bladder is the size of a sweet pea, I swear. Many erotic evenings start with the echo of a flush in the background. I’ve come to accept this, although she knows I don’t particularly like it. It’s a mood breaker, but better to have a small wet blanket thrown on the fire now than have a king sized wet blanket 27 minutes later when her bladder explodes.

My job during all of this is simple – keep the ERECTION. This requires a trick I am sure all you ladies are well versed in as far as maximizing the girth and length of the erection you are playing with – bending it downward. And while I profess to not knowing the biological mechanics of such a move, I do know it makes whatever state of arousal I am in that much more intense as well as painful. Painful as in suddenly my cock felt like it just grew an inch in both directions.

When Leigh does this its exquisite in its agonizing intensity. When I do it it’s merely a kinky life-preserver. What is there stays there. So as her naughty ass sauntered to the commode my right hand went into a zone defense to keep this once every so often hard on as hard as I could.


Not the most romantic sound, I admit, but by now I’ve almost become Pavlovian when I hear a toilet flush late at night. I swear my cock twitches as that water swirls, knowing full well in less than minute she will be back, empty, horny and ready to play.

The door opens, the light from the bathroom momentarily bathes the dark bedroom, the dull whirrrrrr of the fan now more obvious. With a click night once again swallows the room, rendering only shadows visible. Cock in hand I watch a curvy silhouette cross moonbeams from the windows at the foot of our bed. The sound of bare feet padding across a hard wood floor mixed with window and ceiling fan blades droning is, aside from my pulse thumping in my temples and grip, the only sound audible.

pad pad pad pad pad sssccrreeeeeek

What the…

Oh, The Drawer™! Leigh decided to raid our stash of sex toys in her top dresser drawer. Most likely it would be Papa Smurf™ the mini vibe coming out to play. My cock pulsed at the thought of what could be done with that.

Some awkward fumbling sounds, silence, then sccreeeeeeek

pad pad pad pad pad pad pad pad

What the…

Ohhhhhhhh, I know! She has a handful of The Magic Oil™!

Handjob! Fuck yeah!

I moved over to give her room to sit on my side of the bed. With a flick of her left hand the sheets were tossed askew, then with the same hand she relieved me of my erection watching duties.

The next few seconds are among those which I freely admit to coveting. Waiting for that palmful of lubricating oil to be gently poured all over the head and length of the erection in her stranglehold. Then….

Bliss. Nirvana. Heaven. Free Coffee. You name it. It’s all that plus a slice of layer cake when that now empty yet extremely slick hand makes that first stroke of my glistening erection.

I groaned loudly as my hips tensed and rose to receive this anointing by an angel. Her fingers barely touched the skin of my cock. It was deliriously intense to become so aroused, so swollen, so slick so fast yet so slow.

She rolled her hand at the top of each stroke to ensure the by then almost purple head got full attention, taking much delight in the way her palm and fingers caressed the frenum over and over and over with the grace of an angel but the intent of a demon.

My breath got ragged, my hands gripped the base of the headboard as I held on for dear life. I moaned loudly with each eye rolling stroke. They grew firmer, yet still so fucking slow. I thought I was going to pass out.

She thought she was getting off easy by getting me off hard.


Seek And Go Hyde Act II