Tag Archives: Jack Fisher Books

Jack Fisher’s Sexy Sunday Thoughts: Going To The Gym Edition

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Most people don’t like going to the gym. For the first half of my life, I certainly didn’t like it. Gym was my least favorite class in school and I actively avoided them for much of my 20s. Then, I started to become more health conscious. I saw how I looked and I wasn’t satisfied with it. I also saw what was happening with my health and I didn’t like it. Eventually, my attitudes towards gyms changed.

I’ve documented my journey from being grossly out of shape to being a regular fixture at my local gym. I’ve gotten to a point where I don’t just enjoy going to the gym. I feel weird when I don’t. It’s a habit and one that has had a positive impact on my health, my physical appearance, and my confidence. It’s not unreasonable to say that I’m a sexier man today than I was in my 20s because of my efforts at the gym.

Love it or hate it, working out at the gym is where both improved health and greater sexiness are forged. It’s not easy and it doesn’t happen overnight either. It takes time, effort, commitment, and even some pain along the way. The end results are still worth it. I’ve seen people at the gym go from pudgy to ripped over the course of several months. It’s an amazing process and a sexy one, at that.

Granted, you don’t always feel attractive at the gym. You’re sweaty, you’re sticky, and you’re probably going to smell. However, you’re also demonstrating to yourself and others that you’re willing to put in the work. You’re willing to fight, struggle, and toil in the name of greater health and sex appeal. That’s something that anyone can find attractive.

Many of the thoughts that end up in my Sexy Sunday Thoughts often occur while I’m at the gym. With my heart pumping, my blood flowing, and my mind focus, it’s just too fitting. That makes this edition of my Sexy Sunday Thoughts almost as rewarding as a good workout. Enjoy!


“An overly fancy dinner is just a more expensive form of foreplay.”


“If practice makes perfect, then sluts are just a kinky brand of perfectionists.”


“Stupidity will persist for as long as it plays a role in significant numbers of pregnancies.”


“A broken heart often coincides with lonely genitals.”


“If an orgy is a democracy, then a gangbang is a reverse dictatorship.”


“Sleeping with your ex is like drinking and driving in a car you’ve already crashed before.”


“Logistically speaking, a skilled liar and a gullible idiot are among the most compatible lovers.”


I hope this inspires those who already go to the gym to push themselves a little harder on their next trip. For those who don’t go, I encourage you to give it a try. You might not like it at first. You might find it difficult and strenuous. Trust me, it’s worth doing. It gets easier over time and when you see the results in the mirror, you’ll feel both healthier and sexier.

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“The Great Exchange” A Sexy Short Story (For Halloween)

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The following is a sexy short story involving beautiful women and sexy demons. With Halloween just a few weeks away, I thought I’d get everyone in the spirit with a little supernatural sex appeal. Enjoy!

In every involving demons, devils, angels, and saints, there was a common theme. Anyone who dared make a deal with them often paid a high price. It didn’t always involve their soul, either. The moral of those stories was clear. Do things the “right” way and the right people got rewarded. Do things in a selfish, short-sighted way only led to loss and misery.

There was just one glaring problem with those stories.

They only ever told stories with a certain outcome, namely the one that helped ignorant idealists idealist sleep better at night.

Delilah Davidson had heard all those stories too. Growing up in a small, conservative town full of uptight, traditional people, she knew most of them by heart. Nobody ever questioned them. Everyone just assumed they were simple, right, and true. Then, she dared to defy every one of those stories when she made a deal with a demon…a real, non-metaphorical, full-fledged demon.

“I’m willing to pay that price. I’m willing to take that chance.”

Those were Delilah’s exact words when she made that fateful decision years ago. She told them to the reflection of her 17-year-old self that appeared in a dirty mirror at a cheap motel. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but she still remembered that day vividly.

It was the day she and her inept, deadbeat mother got kicked out of their apartment a week before her high school graduation.

It was also the day that a demon named Sephiron appeared to her with an offer.

On that day, Delilah learned two important lessons. Firstly, demons were real. That much, the stories got right. Secondly, the narrative surrounding demons, angels, and every mythical creature in between was far more complicated than anyone realized.

“Tonight’s the night, Delilah…our favorite night of the year,” his demonic voice echoed, just as the clock struck midnight.

“Halloween,” Delilah said with a wide grin. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“I know you have. And, once again, it’ll be worth the wait!”

“It always is, Sephiron. It always is.”

Just as she had years ago, Delilah said that to her reflection in a mirror. Unlike that fateful day, the mirror was within a spacious bathroom in her luxurious penthouse in the heart of a city known for bloated real estate prices. The woman in that reflection was different to, but in a far more profound way.

Having just gotten out of the shower, she gazed at the voluptuous figure that had graced magazine covers and ad campaigns. It was a far cry from the painfully average, unremarkable girl who once got laughed off the cheerleading squad when someone found out she’d stuffed her bra water balloons. Those same people who once laughed later gasped when they watched her leave her hometown, become a professional model, and start her own advertising company.

To date, she had a nine-figure net worth. She’d been romantically linked to celebrities, influential politicians, and even royalty. Her penthouse was over five times larger than the two-room shack she’d grown up in with her mother. Most nights, it was the sight of luxurious lounging or decadent parties.

Tonight was different. On this night, Halloween, she’d canceled every engagement, personal or otherwise. She’d locked her doors, blacked out her windows, and informed her security detail to not bother her for the next 24 hours. She had an eventful night ahead of her.

“You know the drill, my dear,” said Sephiron, his voice echoing throughout her spacious bathroom. “Lose the towel. You won’t be needing it or any other attire for the rest of the night.”

“I wasn’t planning on wearing anything to begin with,” she replied with a laugh.

With little hesitation, she let her towel drop to the floor, exposing her naked body to the mirror. Even though she only saw her reflection, she could sense Sephiron’s eyes on her. From her ample breasts, curvy hips, and flawless skin, her body had been admired by many. However, only Sephiron could admire just how far she’d come.

It was no secret to anyone who’d known her. Delilah went from being an unattractive nobody to a stunning, successful women with a reputation for dominating everyone in a room. She could wear a cheap dress to a wedding and still be more attractive than the bride. She had the looks, skills, and personality that could entice anyone in an instant. From attractive men who wanted to sleep with her to shallow women who wanted to be like her, she dominated them all.

None of those feats would’ve been possible without Sephiron. He – and this particular demon was, indeed, a man – used forces beyond nature to change her fortunes. In terms of looks, she became a “late bloomer” to the greatest extent possible. People went from ignoring her to being hopelessly drawn to her. Delilah eagerly took advantage of those looks and the attention it got her.

She seduced, indulged, schemed, and manipulated her way to success. Sephiron gave her the tools. She used them to the utmost. However, as was often the case, they came at a price. It just so happened that she paid that price every Halloween.

“Come, Delilah. Join me in the bedroom,” said Sephiron.

“I’m coming, my darling,” said Delilah, already getting aroused by that deep, demonic voice.

Leaving the towel, her clothes, and her usual domineering poise behind, the attractive woman who once only dreamed of such an opulent lifestyle exited her private bathroom. Upon entering the master bedroom, she saw an imposing, inhuman figure lying on her bed. For some, he was the stuff of nightmares. For a select few, he was the source of many sexy dreams.

“Sephiron,” Delilah said, her words echoing with lustful awe, “it’s been a long, agonizing wait.”

“Speak for yourself, my lovely host,” the figure said. “Some run from, resist, or resent this part of their deal with a demon. But you’re different.”

“That’s because I don’t just accept it. I embrace it.”

Without fear, dread, or trepidation, she made her way to the bed. Every step brought the demonic features of the figure into view. His appearance, his presence, and his gaze would’ve terrified a lesser soul. It only emboldened hers.

Sephiron’s features was fairly typical for a demon, according to him. He had dark red skin, matching red eyes, pearly white teeth, and jet-black hair. His physique was also distinctly masculine, bearing a tall, toned, well-muscled body that looked like it had been chiseled from stone. While he didn’t have a tail, like the devil creatures of lore, he did have horn-like structures on his forehead. However, that was far from his most notable feature.

“I can see you’re already in the Halloween spirit,” Delilah said, her gaze narrowing on his lower body.

“Demons are always excited this time of year,” he said with a devious grin. “Some are just more overt about it than others.”

“Overt, indeed,” she said.

It was another aspect of demon physiology that rarely made it into morality fables for children. Demon like Sephiron were exceptionally endowed. They had long, thick penises that functioned on a level that wannabe studs could only dream of. They knew how to use them too. Delilah knew that better than most.

Demons were creatures born of and driven by fleshly desires. They were hedonism incarnate. They could leave a moral soul overwhelmed or astonished, depending on the nature of their dealings. That nature had complexities that rarely found their way into common notions about demons. Delilah understood them better than most. Sephiron knew that. He even seemed to appreciate it.

“Come,” he said, extending his hand, “join me on this bed.”

“I graciously accept your invitation, my lord,” Delilah replied.

It was a critical formality for human/demon dealings. Upon arriving at her bed, she accepted Sephiron’s open offer. She took his hand and got into bed with him. His touch was hot. His presence was so powerful. The creature exercised that leverage fully, wrapping her in his powerful arms and greedily groping her naked flesh.

“Mmm…mortal, female flesh,” Sephiron said, his every word seething with lust. “It’s every demon’s favorite treat.”

“I am your host. I give it to you willingly, my lord,” said Delilah without fear or hesitation.

“Spoken like a true whore…an honest, genuine, self-aware whore.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Trust me, my darling host. It’s not. Even the noblest angels in Heaven would agree!”

The creature laughed before tightening his hold on her, drawing her into the center of the bed and raking his demonic figures over her body. He also began tasting her flesh, kissing down her neck and nibbling around her naked skin. His touch sent hot shivers coursing through her body, triggering an arousal like no other.

“Oh my Lord…my dark, demonic Lord,” she gasped. “Take me!”

Her vocal proclamation helped unleash more ravenous lust from the creature. He laid her down on the bed, hovered over her with his domineering form, and attacked her voluptuous body with his hands and lips. Delilah offered no resistance. She just laid there in total submission, a far cry from the domineering personality she usually exercised in intimate moments.

“Yes, my Lord. I submit. I freely…openly…submit to you,” she said, moaning in delight at Sephiron’s hungry touch.

He stepped up his efforts, squeezing her breasts and biting around her neck. More hot sensations followed, sending her deeper into a state of pure lust. Beyond making her extremely horny, her words affirmed the most important component of any deal.

Like all demonic creatures, Sephiron couldn’t force a host to submit to him. It had to be given willingly. He and his kind called it the Great Exchange. It was meant to ensure balance between the world of mortal humans and that of supernatural beings. Forcing it caused disruptions on both ends, regardless of how noble or selfish the deal might have been.

Delilah’s deal was simple, compared to most. Sephiron helped her get what she wanted. He made her aware of the price she had to pay and the associated consequences. She willingly agreed to all of it. Halloween, fittingly enough, was the night the Great Exchange was once again balanced.

After doing plenty to make her wet and horny, Sephiron abruptly ceased his foreplay. He continued hovering over her, the dim lighting of candles and shaded lamps casting him in an unholy aura. She remained flat on her back, looking up at him in a mix of awe and desire.

“I’ve been keeping tabs on you, as any responsible demon should,” he said while hungrily caressing her face.

“I’m sure you have,” said Delilah.

“You’ve been as deviant as ever,” he told her. “You’ve been exceedingly ruthless in the board room, cutting deals and crushing competition. You made a few enemies, but you also added another 20 million dollars to your personal fortune.”

“More like 22.6 million, but close enough,” she quipped.

“You’ve even more deviant in the bedroom,” Sephiron continued while fondling her breast. “You broke up with that athlete who wanted to marry you. You slept with the nephew of a rival consulting firm, who happened to be engaged. You took part in a three-way involving a former business partner and his wife. You even organized a sex party in a hotel at your last convention…one that included strippers, drugs, and enough debauchery to make a demon blush.”

“You forgot the best part. It took place on the same floor that lawyers from a rival company were staying at. We made sure they didn’t get a wink of sleep and woke up fuming with envy!”

Sephiron laughed, his demonic voice making the walls and blacked out windows tremble. Now leering over her with one hand on her breast and the other on her face, he gazed upon her with a unique kind of admiration…one most wouldn’t expect of a demon.

“You’re such a naughty woman,” he said.

“That, I am,” she affirmed.

“Naughty, but not bad…cunning, but not cut-throat…selfish, but not cruel.”

“You say that like it makes you horny…really, really horny,” said Delilah in a seductive tone.

“Oh, you know how much it turns me on. You know damn well how much demons and angels alike treasure such balance. You know what you want. You know what you’re willing to sacrifice to get it. Tonight, the night of All Hallows’ Eve, I take what you willingly give. I do my part to maintain the balance, as you have done yours.”

As he said those ominous words, the large hunk of man-flesh hanging between his legs became hard and erect. It did so with an efficiency that defied all traditional notions of male biology. Even the most endowed of men would’ve been envious while any woman with a healthy sex drive would’ve gasped at the prospect of having such a penis inside her.

Delilah licked her lips in anticipation, her inner thighs already hot with arousal. She’d gone an entire year, not knowing that demonic endowment. No matter how much debauchery she engaged in or how many men she slept with, none came close to captivating her lurid desires as much as this imposing demon. It was part of the price she’d paid for everything she’d gained and one that helped make Halloween her favorite holiday.

“Now, my sweet, decadent host. I shall ravage you in the name of the Great Exchange!” Sephiron proclaimed.

With that booming voice, echoing with burning lust and divine authority, Sephiron grabbed her legs and pushed them apart. Then, his every breath seething with fleshly hunger, he laid on top of her, aligning his throbbing demon dick with her pussy in the process. Finally, he thrust his hips forward, driving his manly flesh into her. The exchange had officially begun.

“Oohhh yes!” the decadent woman cried out. “Ravage me, my wonderful host! Ravage me!”

The air grew hot.

The lights flickered.

The room shook.

It was really happening. A powerful, lust-filled demon was having sex with her on Halloween. He was not gentle or tender with his lusts, either. Demons weren’t known for loving sentiments during sex. They fucked their hosts and they fucked them hard.

Sephiron fucked harder than most, or so he claimed. He held her legs further apart, pushing the limits of her feminine flexibility. He was so forceful with every movement, pumping his large cock within the throbbing folds of her womanhood. It filled her to the utmost, snaking and slithering within her depths, stimulating parts of her body that no man could. Intense surges of hot sensations coursed through her body. They were so intense that Delilah writhed erratically under the demon’s leer, clutching the sheets of bed as she took in every sensation.

The only way to process it was to submit complete to this powerful creature. Compared to how Delilah usually approached sex, it was an utter role reversal. Most men, even those exceptionally confident and endowed, could rarely resist her seductive charms. It was part of the exchange she’d received from Sephiron. In addition to great beauty and material success, she could entice any desired lover. While that made for abundant lovers and ample sex, she always ended up having to play the dominant role.

With Sephiron, she was the one dominated. Mortal men might not have been able to resist her beauty, but a demon had no such vulnerabilities. In Sephiron’s presence, she became a slave to her decadent desires, drunk on lust and unable to resist. It was such an unfamiliar predicament, but that was part of what made it so exhilarating.

“Yes! Yesss!” Sephiron hissed. “Take it, my beautiful host! Take it!”

The beautiful, powerful woman could only moan submissively under the creatures ravenous fucking. She descended deeper into a state of maddened lust. As Sephiron humped harder, he leaned in and tasted her naked flesh, drawing her into hungry kisses that further affirmed his dominance over her.

To those unprepared for such a feeling, it might have been terrifying. It certainly had been the first time she experienced such an exchange. Being ravaged by a demon often blurred the line between pain and pleasure, but the result was always the same. The sex was truly – and ironically – divine in terms of its impact.

“Ooh fucking hell!” Delilah exclaimed. “I’m coming! I’m already…coming…ahhhh!”

“That’s it, my host. Embrace it!” Sephiron seethed. “Embrace the unholy pleasure!”

Her mind, body, and spirit entered a special domain as her climax drew near. It happened faster than most women thought possible. Then again, most women didn’t know the sexual prowess of a demon like Sephiron.

He sensed it coming too. His grin widened and his eyes flashed bright red. He worked his hips harder, causing the whole bed to rock as he penetrated deep. When it hit, it was akin to being possessed by a powerful force, one born of raw pleasure and primal desire.

“Ohhhhhh hell yes!” she cried out.

Her eyes rolled back.

Her back arched and her toes curled.

Her inner muscles throbbed and contorted as waves of ecstasy washed over her.

It didn’t just leave her in a state of ecstasy. It effectively completed Sephiron’s dominance on her. It reminded her that, as part of their exchange, she could only experience such pleasure through him. Doing so meant complete submission for one night after domination on every other day of the year. Even after Sephiron released his hold on her thighs, she remained in that submissive state.

“You feel that? That’s what you can never feel,” he said right into her ear. “Only through me…through the Great Exchange…can you know the ecstasy of pure submission.”

Delilah replied only with a slurred gasp. She was so dazed by her release that she could hardly move, act, or think straight. It was a feeling she could never achieve with other lovers, no matter how much she indulged. It was part of the price she’d paid for all the benefits she’d enjoyed, but she wasn’t done paying it yet.

As the creature’s lurid words echoed within her mind, he resumed the hard fucking. He didn’t have to hold her legs apart, this time. He just hitched them over his shoulders, grabbed her by the wrists, and pinned her arms up over her head. Then, his eyes still glowing bright red, he locked his gaze with hers and made a hard push for another form of ecstasy.

“Accept your submission…as I fill you with my demon seed!” he proclaimed.

Harder and faster, Sephiron pumped his dick inside her still-throbbing pussy. She could feel it slithering and probing her, as though it had a mind of its own. She knew what was coming. She could only do so much to brace herself. Once again, she submitted to the feeling that followed.

“By the hottest hellfire…yesssss!” Sephiron exclaimed.

His demonic muscles tensed and he delivered one last thrust, filling her depths to the utmost. Then, he released into her a load of demon-laced cum. It filled her insides with a force that she felt in the depths of her soul, putting her in a state that defied words and feelings.

She’d been warned about it, even before she agreed to the deal. When a mortal woman fucked a male demon, there were fluids involved. Sephiron told her outright that while demons couldn’t impregnant mortal women, contrary to popular lore, it often had intoxicating effects. He described it as a drug that no earthly substance could hope to match. It didn’t just incur more pleasure. It put women like her into a unique state that blurred the lines between the real world and the spiritual world.

Upon feeling that substance inside her womb, Delilah’s head started spinning and her perceptions became skewed. All around her, the scenery of her upscale condominium disappeared. In its place, walls of hellfire and hellish landscapes appeared before her. The only relic of her world that remained was the bed. It was like Sephiron had just taken her to Hell so he could continue ravaging her in his own domain.

“Oh hell…” Delilah moaned through her dazed state.

“Indeed, my host. Indeed,” he said to her.

She barely had time to recover before the hulking creature kissed her, forcing his snake-like tongue into her mouth. It didn’t just silence her from further musings. It reminded her that the exchange was far from over.

Unlike most men, even those with exceptional stamina, demons didn’t stop at shooting a single load. They didn’t have a refractory period either. Their dicks stayed hard for as long as they desired and demons were known for having immense desires. Without such limits, Sephiron could fuck her as much as necessary to achieve the proper balance. Given all the benefit he’d given her, there was plenty to balance out.

“Not everyone can handle it. Even fewer can embrace it,” Sephiron told her, briefly ceasing the kissing so she could get some much-needed air. “That’s what make you special Delilah Davidson. That’s also what makes our deal more productive than most!”

Again, she couldn’t respond with words in such a deep daze. However, she still offered him a lurid smile the likes of which only a demon could appreciate. He responded with a grin of his own, the prospect of maintaining the balance seeming less laborious than it should’ve been.

From that moment forward, little more was said. Actions of a very decadent kind did all the talking. Now both intoxicated and still overwhelmed by desire, Delilah submitted herself to more demon-fueled ravaging. It was part of the exchange and Sephiron was always motivated to re-establish that balance.

Armed with that dominance, alongside her submission, the divine sex resumed. Sephiron lifted her up in his arms, turned her over, and laid her flat on her stomach before re-entering her from behind. While pressing her face against the bed while she still clung to the sheets, he humped her with the same vigor as before. When she came again, her orgasmic cries were muffled by the sheets. From that point forward, her world became a steady succession of ravenous sex and intense orgasms.

Sephiron took full advantage of her dazed state, fucking her in multiple positions at multiple angles. Her did her doggy style while pulling her hair and biting around her ear. He laid her on her side and did her at an angle that once again pushed the limits of her flexibility. He even held her up in his arms and bounced her up and down his hulking cock, holding her chin and making her look in his glowing eyes as she climaxed again.

“Again! Come again, my lovely host!” Sephiron said, as if to will her orgasms into existence.

She responded with more orgasmic cries, which prompted more heated ravaging. He didn’t let up. He was a demon. His lust could not be sated like a typical man.

That meant he didn’t just restrict himself to fucking her pussy. At one point, he tested her oral sex skills, pushing her head between his legs and shoving his cock into her mouth. He tested her ability to deep-throat a big cock, straining her jaw muscles and making her ingest his demon cum, which further intensified the drug-like effects.

While still gagging from her oral skills, he turned her on her side and entered her anally. That triggered a fresh round of sensations that blurred the line between pleasure and pain. At that point, Delilah was completely lost in this hellish domain of heavenly bliss.

“Oohhh yes!” she cried out, as if to let Heaven and Hell know what she wanted.

Before long, sexual fluids from her and her demon lover were seeping from every orifice. Sephiron made it a point to leave no inch of her naked skin untouched, untasted, or unstimulated. His stamina, flexibility, and sheer capability ensured he do it in ways that no man could hope to match.

To those who didn’t take the Great Exchange seriously, it might have been torture. For her, a woman who freely chose this deal, accepting the costs and responsibilities with it, the experience was something else entirely. Just as Sephiron took great satisfaction in maintaining the balance, she took just as much satisfaction in sharing it with him.

“The balance…is once again restored,” he whispered into her ear after yet another orgasm.

In her dazed, intoxicated state, it was difficult to surmise how long Sephiron ravaged her or how many orgasms they’d experienced. Being covered in sweat and various sexual fluids indicated it had been quite a while.

It only ended when Sephiron ceased his humping, cupped her face again, and kissed her one last time in a way not driven by lust or hunger. At that same moment, his eyes shifted from bright red to light blue, as if to signal that some sort of threshold had finally been met.

“Delilah Davidson, my host,” he said to her, “our exchange is once again complete.”

“Mmm…complete indeed,” she said with a satisfied grin.

“I’m also inclined to remind you of the price you’ve paid,” he told her. “By giving yourself to me once a year, you ensure that you can never be satisfied by a mortal lover. You can love, lust, and connect. But only through me…a demon, not of this world…can you be satisfied.”

After what Sephiron had just done to her, Delilah didn’t need convincing that demon sex was hotter than anything she could get from men or women. However, it was also part of the price she paid to get what she wanted.

She could indulge in her success, using her beauty and dominance to get all the sex, comforts, and luxuries she wanted. They might make her feel good. They might even make her feel fulfilled to some extent. However, they could never satisfy her. Only Sephiron could do that and she could only enjoy that feeling once a year on Halloween.

It was not an easy price to pay. At times, it was frustrating. Despite those issues, Delilah had no regrets. Most who made deals with demons and respected the Great Exchange felt that too. She liked to think she respected it more than most.

“I gladly pay that price…my dear host,” she said to him. “Thank you…for making doing your part.”

“And I shall continue to do so, for as long as the balance is kept,” Sephiron replied.

In a gesture that seemed unbefitting of a demon, Sephiron smiled affectionately. With the exchange complete, he withdrew his member from her. More fluids spilled out from her inner thighs, but she didn’t mind. Chances were she’d be sore tomorrow. She didn’t mind that, either. She made that clear to Sephiron, smiling back and kissing his forehead, as if to thank him for his reminder.

The intoxicating effects from his demon cum quickly wore off. The flaming hellscape that had manifested around them faded. She found herself back in the master bedroom of her condo, as though she’d never left. Sephiron told her that the effects of demon fluids were intense, but they rarely lasted. That was probably for the best. Something that intense had to be limited in order to maintain that precious balance.

The experience complete, the imposing creature laid her naked, disheveled body down on the bed. Her hair was a mess. There were scratch and bite-marks all over her body. The same woman that dominated her way to wealth, success, and indulgence looked like she’d been ravaged. Such a sight seemed to satisfy Sephiron almost as much as the sex they’d just had.

As she lay on the bed, he levitated above her, his body starting to fade in a reddish mist. Even in her drained state, she kept smiling as she looked up at her demon lover. She got what she wanted from him. He got what he wanted from her. They both got what they wanted with their arrangement. From Heaven to Hell, through angels and demons, it was a truly fitting exchange.

“Another year has come and gone. You continue to uphold the balance,” Sephiron said as he faded before her eyes. “I hope you understand how special that makes you.”

“I can’t claim…to understand,” said Delilah. “All I know is…you keep reminding me.”

 

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Birthday Reflections: My 20s Vs. My 30s

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Recently, I celebrated my birthday. It didn’t involve an elaborate party or some special event. It wasn’t just another day, either. I went out of my way to make it special, as did my friends and family. By the standards of a man in his 30s, it was a good birthday. I didn’t need much. I just needed a day that made getting older feel less daunting.

As we get older, our attitudes towards birthdays change. When we’re young, birthdays are this big event that we go out of our way to make memorable. As kids, it’s an excuse to have a big party full of cakes, presents, and birthday checks from generous relatives. As teenagers, it’s another year gone by and another step closer towards greater independence.

Once we enter our 20s, however, things get trickier. We start to see birthdays less as events and more as formalities. By that time, most of us have other pressing concerns beyond which cake we want and how we’ll spend our birthday checks, assuming our relatives still send them. That experience may vary, depending on your circumstances. For me, my 20s was a strange time and it showed in how I celebrated birthdays.

These days, I feel like I’ve achieved just the right balance when it comes to birthdays. At the same time, each passing year has helped put what I went through in my 20s into a clearer perspective. You can’t always see the forest from the trees when you’re young. It takes years of living, learning, growth, success, and even failure to truly appreciate how your life changes.

I found myself appreciating that even more this past week. When I look back at how I was in my 20s, I see just how far I’ve come. Ten years ago, I was in a very different place. I had just graduated college. I was still paying off debt, searching for a steady job, and trying to establish myself. It was not a smooth ride, but it was not as difficult as it could’ve been.

It helped that I had a supportive family who helped me transition from college to the adult world. It helped even more that they let me move back home and live rent free until I saved up enough money to pay down my debts and move out. They helped make parts of the transition easier, but I still made it harder on myself in way too many ways.

In my 20s, the memories of high school were still fresh in my mind. On top of that, I had broken up with my college girlfriend and I still hadn’t quite recovered. I also had a long way to go in terms of refining my social skills. At that time, I was still very socially awkward. I avoided parties and large crowds. I had a hard time striking up conversations. I also lacked confidence, poise, and vision.

For the most part, I treated adult life in my 20s the same way I treated college. In my defense, that was the life I’d gotten used to at that point. I treated work like going to class. I only ever saw work as a means to a paycheck that I could use to pay down my debts and pay my rent. When problems came up, my first instinct wasn’t to solve them. It was to find someone else who could.

In some cases, I held myself back. I clung to the less burdensome life I had in college. I relied heavily on friends and parents to help me with things like taxes, car repairs, and finding quality health care. Again, my family was awesome every step of the way and didn’t berate me for relying on them so much. However, at some point, I had to grow up on my own.

That process didn’t really pick up until my late 20s. That was around the time when I finally caught up in terms of social skills. It was also the same time I gained more professional and career experience. I no longer saw work as a means to a paycheck. I saw it as a part of a blossoming career. Compared to how many others in their 20s have struggled, I was considerably lucky.

Once I made it into my 30s, my outlook changed even more. I stopped looking at things in terms of when I got my next paycheck and started making plans for the future. I dared to set bolder goals for myself. I also dared to learn more skills that hadn’t interested me before. Something as simple as inflating a tire on my car or fixing my garbage disposal became a real endeavor.

At that same time, I also became more health conscious, both physically and mentally. I’ve noted before how unhealthy I was in my early 20s. Back then, it wasn’t unusual for me to create entire meals around bowls of cereal drenched in chocolate milk. The most I did in terms of cooking involved hot pockets and burritos.

Again, in my defense, that was what I’d gotten used to in college. It certainly wasn’t healthy and that showed in my appearance. Even though I was young, I wasn’t exactly fit. I had no muscle tone and a less-than-toned stomach. I also avoided exercise to the utmost. My hatred of gym class in high school somehow followed me into my 20s.

Now that I’m in my 30s, I can safely say that I’m more physically fit than I was when I graduated college. I’ll even go so far as to say I’m more attractive. I can see my ab muscles. I have biceps that are worth showing off. I can run for three miles with ease and I go to the gym at least twice a week. I also eat much better than I did in my 20s. I can actually cook a healthy meal without relying on a microwave.

It may not sound like much, but all those little things really accumulated once I hit my 30s. It didn’t happen all at once. It was a process, one that allowed me to become a functional adult that I’m proud to be. I’ve built a good life for myself. I have confidence, good health, a great family, and a strong support structure that brings out the best in me.

It even showed in how I approached birthdays. In my 20s, birthdays reminded me that I’m getting older. In my 30s, they affirm that I’ve grown into a man that I’m proud of and I want to keep growing.

Every now and then, especially around my birthday, I find myself contemplating what I would’ve done differently in my 20s, knowing what I know now. With each passing year, however, I realize that there’s not much I could’ve done. Even with the benefit of hindsight, I feel like I had to go through that awkward transition period in my 20s. It made me a better person, in the long run.

Now, as I near my 40s, I look forward to seeing the kind of person I grow into. I also hope to meet that special someone along the way. Until that time comes, I feel like I’ve got a healthy attitude towards birthdays and most other things now that I’m in my 30s. My 20s were fun in many ways, but I don’t miss them.

I’m excited about my future. I’m hopeful about where life will take me. I don’t doubt for a second that who I am now will be very different than who I am in another 10 years. Hopefully, by that time, I’ll be able to share more reflections about that journey. Only time will tell.

Until then, to all those who helped make my birthday special this year, I sincerely thank you.

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Daily Sexy Musing: Sexy Costumes

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With Halloween right around the corner, costumes are becoming a more relevant issue. A lot of kids are already contemplating what they’ll dress up as when they go trick-or-treating. Many more adults are probably contemplating what they can dress up as, either to attend a party or get a good laugh from someone.

It helps that more than a few of those adults will be seeking to dress as something overtly sexy. Sexy costumed versions of things have always existed, but it feels like they’ve become more mainstream in recent years. As a fan of looking sexy and dressing sexy, I’m all for it. I know it pisses off some people who are eager to get outraged over certain costumes, but those people don’t deserve our attention or sympathy.

For me, sexy costumes are even more relevant and not just because Halloween is coming soon. I just got back from another amazing day at New York Comic Con. Like in years past, I dressed up to share the experience with plenty of fellow cos-players. While my costume wasn’t that sexy, there were plenty of others who dare to push the envelope.

Sexy costumes aren’t specific to one time of the year. There’s really nothing from stopping anyone from wearing a sexy costume. When you have a lover who responds to it, then you have even more incentive. It’s fun. It’s playful. It can even be downright romantic. Between this, the Halloween spirit, and the New York Comic Con, sexy costumes are more than worthy of a Daily Sexy Musing. Enjoy!

We style our hair.

We put on a mask.

We smother ourselves with makeup, jewelry, and accessories.

We become someone else entirely.

It’s both liberating and refreshing, inhabiting the form of another. Whether born of fiction, history, or lore, we exchange our regular persona for something wildly different. Instead of blending in, we stand out. Nobody else looks, acts, and conducts themselves as we do. Our attire and demeanor is an aberration, but that’s exactly what makes it exciting.

In this new form, I feel a unique energy. Like tapping into a new source of power, I channel an outside spirit. This new persona dares to do things that I wouldn’t in my usual attire. I’ll cast you a deviant glance, implying deviant activities that you and I only contemplated in jest. Now, it’s serious. We’re not the same mundane lovers we once were.

We are superheroes saving the day.

We are monsters wreaking havoc.

We are villains causing chaos.

We are mythical figures come to life.

Filled with this energy and spirit, our love manifests in entirely new ways. I dare to be bolder, speaking in a voice that is not my own. You dare to match me every step of the way, sharing an intensity that gets my heart racing. It sends our passions into overdrive. The line between one persona and the other blurs.

Finally, it culminates.

Our new identities take over.

Our new passions are unleashed.

These costumes become more than elaborate attire. They are a new conduit for new passions. In this form, our love manifests in a very different way. It’s overwhelming, exhilarating, and even a little deviant. We know each other so well, but in these costumes, we realize just how much more there is to learn.

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Jack Fisher’s Sexy Sunday Thoughts: Pumpkin Spice Edition 2019

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It’s that time of year again. The days are getting shorter, the weather is getting colder, and the leaves are changing into a beautiful tapestry of colors. These are the traditional signs of fall and most people don’t have a problem with them. Some even celebrate them. In recent years, though, another element has become associated with this time of year, much to the chagrin of certain crowds.

I’m talking, of course, about pumpkin spice. Now, I’m not among those who whine about the presence and prevalence of all things pumpkin spice. There’s an elaborate narrative surrounding that and it’s not worth getting into. Personally, I happen to like pumpkin spice. I usually treat myself with a nice pumpkin spice latte this time of year when I feel I earned it.

It’s not the greatest latte in the world, but it still tastes great. It has a unique flavor that fits perfectly with the season. This is the time of year when pumpkins are everywhere, be they Halloween decorations or core ingredients of pies. Pumpkin spice is just another treat to celebrate this time of year.

Think what you will about it. Use it as an excuse to bash millennials and snooty coffee addicts all you want. It still tastes great and it still helps usher in a new season. It’s my hope that this round of my Sexy Sunday Thoughts inspires people to set aside the complaining about pumpkin spice and just enjoy its uniquely seasonal taste.


“To some extent, parents protecting the chastity of their daughters amounts to micromanaging their orgasms.”


“Divorce is essentially a lawsuit built around insufficient, stolen, or unsanctioned orgasms.”


“Falling in love can make for epic romance, but stumbling into it can make for heartfelt comedy.”


“Is it hypocritical that we’re so serious about caring for our genitals, but base some of our crudest humor around them?”


“Technically speaking, sexual fluids are liquid joy.”


“Getting lectured on sex by a celibate priest is like getting lessons in cyber security from the Amish.”


“The sounds we make during sex are the only true universal language.”


I don’t expect these sexy musings to convince people that pumpkin spice is inherently awesome. At the end of the day, it’s simply a special flavoring that happens to correlate perfectly with this time of year. It certainly helps that it’s delicious and it’s always easier to feel sexy when you’ve enjoyed a delicious treat.

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“Discipline And Punishment” A Sexy Short Story

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The following is a sexy short story that includes sex robots, a very naughty woman, and a mild dose of BDSM. I could offer some context as to what inspired this, but I have a feeling it will only distract people from taking in the true breadth of this very sexy story. Enjoy!

Amber Quinn was a bad girl. That was an inescapable fact.

She wasn’t bad in the sense that she’d snuck out at night as a teenager, smoked pot regularly, or pocketed an extra piece of candy from her grandmother’s pantry. She was bad in the most basic sense of the word.

Amber was selfish, egotistical, narcissistic, callous, and downright mean at times. She had little respect for rules, manners, and propriety. She was excessively vain, spending at least an hour every morning on her makeup. She was also exceedingly immodest, wearing only the trashiest outfits that showed off her sexy body, which was more attributed to her mother being a former model than her dedication to good physical health. One of her former teachers once told her that she had the beauty of an angel and the conscious of a demon.

That teacher might have only said that because Amber slept with her son to steal answers for an upcoming test, but that didn’t make it any less true. Being so self-absorbed and self-centered, Amber rarely passed up an opportunity to exploit her beauty and the desires of others to sleep with her.

She’d slept with a manager at a high-end clothing store to get discounts on dresses.

She gave a blowjob to a delivery boy so she could get free meals for a week.

She’d gotten a wealthy widower to fall in love with her, only to break his heart when she found out he’d lost all his money in a stock market scheme.

For most of her life, Amber was on path of selfish indulgence and utter self-destruction. She burned every bridge, alienated every friend, and squandered every opportunity to do something meaningful with her life. That ended abruptly three years ago.

It started when she attempted to blackmail a young, but wealthy investment banker by claiming he’d sexually assaulted her. She came close to getting away with it. She only got caught because she mistakenly shared her plan with her drug-dealing ex-boyfriend via text message, who ended up sharing the text messages with the cops.

“You finally paid a price for your selfishness. It should’ve come sooner. And it should’ve been much higher,” Amber often told herself.

In hindsight, it might have been the best thing that could’ve happened to her. When she got arrested, the prosecuting attorney – a woman named Lorena Jameson – decided to dig deeper into her sordid history. She compiled a comprehensive list of actions that put the breadth of her deviance into perspective. When the judge on her case saw that list, he looked at her with utter disgust.

He could’ve sent her to jail for years. She would’ve deserved it, too. However, Lorena proposed a different kind of punishment. She believed that jail would only harden her and foster more deviance. For Amber Quinn to become a respectable woman again, she needed a lesson in discipline. That was where Mike Blackwhip came in.

Who he was, what he was, and how he went about teaching her the value of discipline helped transform her from a self-absorbed asshole to a respectable, law-abiding citizen. Instead of extorting men for money, she had a good job as a paralegal at a law firm. She went from living with boyfriends/sugar daddies to having her own apartment.

However, in order for Mr. Blackwhip to carry out his court-approved role, her residence required certain accommodations. They were apparent every time Amber returned from work.

“Mr. Blackwhip, sir, I’m home,” Amber announced upon entering her apartment.

“Welcome home, Amber,” replied a voice through a small speaker in the foyer. “You’re two minutes and thirteen seconds late. Do you have a valid reason for this?”

“No, Mr. Blackwhip. I don’t. I simply lost track of time.”

“That’s an excuse. Not a reason. You know what that entails.”

“Indeed, I do.”

His voice was so strict and stern, even through a speaker. Amber rarely heard that tone from men and not just because her father had been a burned-out stoner who didn’t care for discipline. Whereas men were often intimated by her beauty and attitude, there was no intimidating Mr. Blackwhip.

With that in mind, Amber set aside her coat and purse. She could already feel Mr. Blackwhip’s gaze on her through the camera atop the monitor. She stood in front of it in the modest, professional attire that was expected for her work at a law firm. It was a far cry from the tube-tops and mini-skirts she once wore in public. It affirmed that she had come to respect Mr. Blackwhip’s rules, but that was only part of the unorthodox method that had tamed her trashy ways.

“Tardiness without excuses is not the mark of a law-biding woman. It seems I must incorporate punishment into your typical discipline,” Mr. Blackwhip said through the speaker. “Do you intend to appeal this?”

No, Mr. Blackwhip. I don’t,” Amber said, holding her head low in a gesture of humility.

“Then, proceed to the discipline room. Your weekly penance awaits you, Amber Quinn.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Blackwhip.”

She spoke in such a polite, formal tone. Her younger self never would’ve recognized it. There was no attitude, ego, or coyness. The same Amber Quinn who once spat on her eight-grade math teacher for chewing gum during class now spoke with respect, humility, and obedience. It was still so jarring, but she’d come to appreciate it. Mike Blackwhip was the primary reason for that.

Like a soldier obeying a direct order, she made her way to the discipline room. That was just what Mr. Blackwhip called the second bedroom of her two-bedroom apartment. As part of the court order that kept her out of prison, she was required to stay in a two-bedroom apartment in which one of the room was converted into a unique area in which she could receive what the judge in her case called “specialized penance.”

Such a vague legal term didn’t do justice to its impact on her. There was no doubt about it. Amber never would’ve gotten anything like it in prison. She never would’ve become who she was now without it. When it began, she’d been both skeptical and reluctant. Now, every time she entered the discipline room, she did so with a sense of peace and humility.

“I’m here, Mr. Blackwhip,” Amber said upon walking through the door. “Please, tell me what to do next.”

“Your manners are improving. That’s promising,” replied a familiar figure sitting in the shadows, “but you still have a long way to go.”

As that harsh reminder lingered in her mind, the imposing figure rose up and turned the lights on. In doing so, Mike Blackwhip revealed himself to her. No matter how many times she saw him, she felt anxious, excited, and determined all at the same time.

What made him so imposing, however, had little to do with his stature, his voice, or the significant authority that he wielded, courtesy of a court order. Unlike any other man Amber had dealt with before, Mike Blackwhip wasn’t a normal man, prone to the same vulnerabilities as other man. He was a robot. Specifically, he was a male sex robot whose design, programming, and operations were uniquely calibrated for deviant women like her.

When he approached her, Amber couldn’t help but marvel at his form. He was tall, standing at over six-and-a-half feet in height. He had muscles that rivaled most amateur bodybuilders. From his arms to his legs to his chest, he radiated masculine power from every pore. That power extended to a large, well-shaped penis that hung between his legs. Despite having been with her share of well-endowed men, the sight Mike Blackwhip’s manhood still made her blush.

The closer he got, the more she trembled under his domineering presence. He might have been a robot, but he still had the presence of a man. His skin was very lifelike, but probably wouldn’t have fooled most people if he walked down a busy street.

However, that helped reinforce an important point, with respect to her court-ordered discipline. Mike Blackwhip wasn’t the kind of man she could easily manipulate. No amount of sex appeal or sensuality could distract him from his role. Being a robot in the body of a powerful man, he had a singular purpose and it centered around her.

“Close the door, lock it, and take off your clothes,” Mike said, his voice echoing with focused masculinity.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Blackwhip,” Amber said obediently.

She did exactly as she was told, without attitude or complaint. She showed none of her former sass as she closed the door, leaving her alone in a room with a hulking sex robot and blacked out windows. It used to scare her. It still did on some level. However, as she came to appreciate her penance, it began to excite her.

It showed as she removed her casual business attire under Mike’s watchful eye. In the past, stripping naked was just another tool in her effort to selfishly indulge. Given her natural beauty and her willingness to use it, she could get almost any man to do her bidding. None of that worked on Mike Blackwhip. Even as she slipped off her bra and panties, he was not the least bit swayed by her fully nude form.

“Get on your knees,” Mike said firmly.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Blackwhip.”

Already, Amber had exercised more submission and obedience than she had for most of her adult life. She was usually the one who told men what to do. She was usually the one in charge when clothes came off. Getting on her knees, usually to give a blowjob, was just another part of another selfish agenda.

That dynamic, which once fueled her narcissism, had been completely reversed.

“You’re getting better,” Mike told her. “You’re learning to respect authority, obey orders, and appreciate formality. That constitutes progress.”

“Thank you, Mr. Blackwhip,” Amber said with a respectful nod.

“But progress alone is not the goal,” the robot figure told her. “Reformation and vindication, especially for one such as you, requires extensive effort. At times, those efforts must be belabored.”

Mike Blackwhip took a step closer. He now towered over her like a titan. She looked up at him, a powerful robot surrounded by masculine flesh, in the same way a small animal looked up at a predator. There was no equality in this situation. He had the authority, literally and legally.

“Get on all fours,” he ordered.

“Yes, Mr. Blackwhip,” she said before doing exactly as he ordered.

“Now, follow me to your punishment rack. Crawl on the dirty floor like a disobedient pet,” he told her.

“Yes, Mr. Blackwhip.”

Again, she complied. With submissive meekness, she crawled alongside the imposing figure until they arrived at the punishment rack, as he called it.

It wasn’t a rack as much as it was a make-shift bed, which had been modified with various bondage accessories. It included shackles on the headboard, restraints that hung from the ceiling, and ropes that connected to the sides. Right next to the setup stood two small dressers, each packed with various bondage tools.

She knew what they were and how they were used, but hadn’t been on the receiving end until recently. They used to fill her with dread. Now, Amber got aroused, thinking about how they would be used on her. Mike Blackwhip didn’t just know how to use them. His programming made him the ultimate expert.

“Get up!” he said, barking the order like a drill sergeant.

She did so without saying a word. Before she could fully return to her feet, he gave another order.

“Bend over,” he said. “Put your arms behind your back.”

“Yes, Mr. Blackwhip,” said Amber, her voice becoming more submissive.

As soon as she complied, Mike grabbed her wrists and held them together. Then, he retrieved a pair of handcuffs from the nearby dresser and bound her with them. The sound of the ominous clicking noise reminded her of that fateful day when she got arrested. Mike Blackwhip often made it a point to remind her of that moment, but there was a reason for that.

“No matter how much progress you make, you should never forget what a deviant bitch you once were,” said Mike. “You escaped punishment for so long. It’s going to take a lot of penance to balance the scales of justice.”

Upon saying those words, he gave her butt a firm slap. The sound of a loud “thwack!” filled the room. Amber winced at the sting, but it did more than inflict pain.

Her heart raced faster.

Her mind raced as well.

Memories of her decadent past clashed with her emerging present. It created within her a potent feeling that even a former deviant could appreciate.

“You feel that?” Mike Blackwhip said as he smacked her ass again. “That is real, tangible punishment…the kind you avoided for years.”

Amber winced again as another sharp sting followed. He proceeded to spank her several more times, using increasing force with each strike. He wasn’t too hard, but he wasn’t gentle either. Being an advanced sex robot, Mike delivered just the right amount of force every time.

Soon, her butt was tender and sore. Amber kept gasping anxiously, her body and mind in a strange state of discomfort and arousal. Then, Mike retrieved a black, leather studded whip from the dresser and rubbed the tip over her tender skin. Under his imposing presence, all she could do was brace herself.

“Now, you cannot avoid punishment! Not anymore!” Mike loudly proclaimed.

He struck her butt with the whip, giving a tangible feeling to such harsh words. Amber groaned at the resulting sting, which was more intense than before. Even so, she endured it. She didn’t have a choice. Even if she did, there was no escaping the truth.

Again and again, he struck her butt with the whip. Hard leather struck vulnerable skin. Amber writhed and groaned, but didn’t dare complain. She just bit her lip and trembled at each strike, feeling that unique rush that came with receiving such punishment from Mike Blackwhip. She had spent her whole life avoiding consequences to her many misdeeds. Facing them like this, taking them in such a raw and overt way, gave her a feeling that was uniquely liberating.

“You deserve this! Say it!” Mike said in between strikes.

“I…I deserve this,” she said meekly.

“Louder! Say it louder!”

“I deserve this! I deserve this punishment!”

Saying it out loud only intensified the feeling. It was so cathartic, proclaiming out loud that she deserved to be punished and willingly accepted it. After everything she’d done, Amber didn’t just want that feeling. She needed it.

Mike Blackwhip proceeded to whip her ass several dozen times, imparting punishment and vindication with every strike. It further added to her arousal. Some of that arousal manifested between her legs. She could already feel her inner thighs becoming very moist. What had once been a manifestation of her selfish indulgence was now a part of her overdue punishment.

Her arousal didn’t go unnoticed. Being a sex robot, Mike had sensors that allowed him to detect an aroused woman, which already put him above the vast majority of the men she’d ever been with. Unlike those men, however, he did not get distracted by the prospect of a horny woman.

“I sense that you’re accepting and embracing your punishment,” Mike said. “That also constitutes progress. As such, the nature of your penance must evolve.”

He gave her butt one last swat. It was extra hard, leaving a sting that lingered.

As Amber processed that feeling, the imposing figure undid her handcuffs, grabbed her by the shoulder, and turned her around. Once again, she faced him and his domineering authority. It was the first authority she’d come to respect and not just because of a court order.

“Get on the bed, lie on your back, and hold your arms out,” Mike Blackwhip ordered.

“Yes, Mr. Blackwhip,” she said, her arousal showing in her voice.

She complied with greater urgency, crawling up on the bed and lying down on her back. She didn’t care that her butt still stung and her inner thighs were hot with arousal. This powerful authority figure gave her an order. Having gained a unique respect for authority, abiding by that authority only intensified that arousal.

“Following the rules and those who enforce them aren’t always appealing,” he said as he walked around to the other side of the bed. “Most don’t need to learn that lesson the hard. Some insist on making it even harder. You, Amber Quinn, learned it many times and still avoided it. For you to follow the basic rules of society, enforces of those rules must get elaborate.”

He’d given that speech before. Amber heard it every time she endured her this elaborate form of penance. It was meant to reinforce just how much a deviant she had been and how challenging it was to change her perspective.

Mike Blackwhip let those words echo in her mind as he proceeded with the next phase of her penance. He started by taking each wrist and bounding it with a special restraint that was attached to the side of the bed. Her arms now immobile, he retrieved a couple of nipple rings from the drawer and fastened them to her nipples, which created a fresh source of discomfort.

“Ungh!” Amber groaned.

“Silence!” he barked. “You’ve no one to blame for this recourse but yourself.”

Before she could protest any further, Mike grabbed a ball gag from the table, shoved it into her mouth, and locked it. Now, she was both restrained and silenced. It was a position that had been alien to her until recently. It was also a position that made use of the discipline room’s most effective tool.

On the ceiling above the punishment rack was a mirror. In it, she saw her naked body on the rack, completely at the mercy of a powerful figure armed with both robot strength and legal power. It allowed her to see herself in this bound, submissive form. She could watch herself get dominated and disciplined in all the ways she once avoided. It created a powerful visual that she couldn’t avoid, nor did she want to.

“To appreciate discipline, you must also appreciate penance,” he said to her. “To appreciate penance, you must also have incentive…one that can be both painful and pleasurable.”

Her arousal was so great that Amber could barely keep her legs still. She watched with growing anticipation, her breath muffled by the ball gag. Mike Blackwhip got up on the bed and pushed her legs apart, casting a shadow over her that made her feel like an insect. In doing so, his dick went from completely flaccid to completely erect in just a few seconds.

It was another distinct tool that allowed Mike to exercise his authority. Being a sex robot, he was not bound by the physical limitations of men. The court liaison who’d introduced her to Mike Blackwhip told her that his genitals had been designed and configured with control in mind. He could be as hard as he wanted for as long as he wanted. That meant she couldn’t depend her discipline ending prematurely.

Having exploited and belittled the frailties of male sexual function in the past, it was almost poetic. Hovering over her was a man who would never become tired, overwhelmed, or impotent. She could never dominate him, even at her most deviant. She could only ever be dominated by her. He knew that because that was how he was programmed.

Another part of that programming was, according to another court liaison, to derive his own unique pleasure from carrying out her penance.

“Look up at yourself,” Mike said as he held her legs apart. “Watch as I impose my discipline. Watch as you accept your punishment.”

Amber replied with a light muffle before turning her attention to the mirror on the ceiling. From there, she watched the domineering spectacle unfold.

Mike, keeping a firm grip on her legs, aligned his throbbing cock with the moist opening to her pussy. She watched in her reflection as he drove his hips forward and entered her, his hulking male flesh filling her inner depths. He was not careful or reluctant. This wasn’t her indulging in pleasures of the flesh. This was part of her penance. That didn’t make it feel any less intense.

“Mmff!” she moaned, the ball gag muting her gasps.

It was happening again. Bound, gagged, and naked, she was in a state of total submission. She – Amber Quinn, the unapologetic whore who once extorted pediatrician for pain pills to sell – was being dominated and fucked. As someone whose ego once required that she always be in control, both the imagery and the sensations had a profound impact.

The sights, sounds, and sensations converged in that moment. With his member now inside her, Mike began moving his hips. Like a well-oiled machine – which he was, to some extent – he pumped his manhood within her depths. As always, he penetrated deep. He left no nerve unstimulated. It was like his penis had been crafted specifically to fuck her, which was probably close to the truth.

The spectacle of his muscular, manly body humping her bound form unfolded in the mirror above her. The pain from the spankings and the nipple clamps mixed with the pleasure of sex. The lines between the two quickly blurred. From that blend of conflicting sensations, a unique feeling emerged.

This is your penance, Amber Quinn. This is how you repay your lofty debts,” Mike said in his booming voice. “Take this punishment! Take this discipline! Take it all!”

More muffled moans followed, but Amber never looked away from her submissive reflection. She had to see it play out. Like a living memory, it gave weight and substance to the experience.

Pain imparted punishment. Pleasure imparted affirmation. There was merit to following the rules, exercising discipline, and eschewing pure selfishness. Mike Blackwhip turned that profound concept into a special kind of penance. She felt it, watched it, and embraced it. Doing so didn’t just help atone for her many misdeeds. It helped make her a better person.

As the punishment and discipline played out, Mike intensified the pace of their sex. He was hard and fast with every thrust, fucking her with a fervor that few men could sustain. He took full advantage of being a sex robot, dominating her as much as he ravaged her. It kept that blend of pain and pleasure flowing, so much so that Amber couldn’t tell whether she was close to climaxing. She only realized it as she neared the final threshold.

“Mmmfff!” she moaned loudly as the feeling approach.

“Yes! That’s it, Amber Quinn!” Mike shouted. “Feel it! Remember it! Accept it!”

He slowed his thrusting, delivering one last round of targeted movements. They were intended specifically to make her climax, even as other parts of her body remained tender with pain. It was a difficult feat, even for a sex robot. Like he had many times before, Mike succeeded.

When she came, Amber bend her knees back, curled her toes, and watched herself writhe in the mirror. The intensity of the pleasure complement the lingering pain, as if to create a feeling of complete and utter balance. Even at her most deviant, through all the sex she had and the drugs she took, she’d never experienced such a feeling.

As her body trembled, Mike withdrew his cock from her, unlocked her wrists, and removed the ball gag. As she panted heavily from the orgasmic feeling, he cupped her chin with his powerful hand and looked her directly in the eye.

“Your penance is done for the day,” he told her, “but the process is ongoing. Don’t ever forget that.”

“I won’t, Mr. Blackwhip,” she replied. “I promise.”

Amber smiled at the imposing figure and he smiled back. Even a sex robot understood the importance of what he’d just done with her. The sensations created a feeling and the feeling created an experience in which punishment became desirable and discipline became appealing. For a reformed deviant like her, Amber couldn’t imagine of a more effective penance.

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Daily Sexy Musing: Sensitive Spots (Of All Kinds)

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We all have sensitive spots, literally and figuratively. There parts of our bodies or certain subjects that evoke a powerful reaction at the slightest stimulation. It’s not the same as being ticklish. That’s another form of sensitivity that has its own sexy connotations. The sensitive spots I’m referring to are more personal.

To love someone and be intimate wit them, you have to know their most sensitive spots to some extent. I’m not just referring to the sexy spots, although those certainly come into play. Some people respond to being touched a certain way. Others respond to certain words or gestures. It’s often subtle, but it can have a profound impact.

I once knew a guy who just loved having his girlfriend stroke his beard. I don’t know why it was such a big deal for him, but his girlfriend knew how much she loved it and they knew how to make use of it. They were a fun couple. They knew where those sensitive spots were and what to do with them.

Finding those spots usually requires more than just basic chemistry. You know your romance is getting serious when you start picking up on these kinds of subtleties. I hope this Daily Sexy Musing can make you more aware of it, if you aren’t already. Enjoy!

I know your weaknesses. With mere words, I can hit where few know to aim and strike a chord that few know is there. Through a targeted touch, I can do even more. Like a map full of shortcuts and secret routes, I’m able to make my mark and render you completely vulnerable.

At the same time, you know my weaknesses as well.

Sometimes, you don’t even need words. A simple glance is all it takes. In a moment of silence, you’re able to hit me in a way that feels like a tidal wave to the heart. It can be painful, but it’s also sobering. Being around you, I’m just as vulnerable. At the same time, the bond we share is strengthened.

We know the cracks in our armor.

We know the wounds on our egos.

We know the blind spots in our perceptions.

We know the flaws in our persona.

Having such insights grants us power, but how we use it grants us even more. What we do with our words can break us down, but what we do with our hands, lips, and bodies is just as powerful. Anyone can caress us. Only you and I know how to caress the right spots.

I touch the places you love to be touched.

You say the things I love hearing you say.

We make every gesture count, knowing where and how to convey our love.

The end result is profound. Our individual flaws become our collective strength. What might otherwise bring us distress can bring us ecstasy.

We took a chance. That chance became trust. That trust became insight. With it, we make each other cry out in delight. The most sensitive parts of our bodies and souls become the lock and key to our love.

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