Month: October 2017

Rebekkah’s Revenge

Continues from Red Riding Hood. A reader wanted to know what Rebekkah would do now she had her assailant under her control. So here we go …

The man looked up at her, his eyes wide and dark. With his hands bound behind him and his feet tied, he was no longer a threat, he was hers to do with as she would. The transfer of power flowed through her like an electric current. She thought about calling the police, but then another thought came to her, a much sweeter, deeper retribution for the violation of her and her Nanna’s home. She pulled out her phone and fired off a text:

“Got a live one. Wanna join me?”

She put her phone away, crouched beside him and pulled off his winter hat. He was younger than she’d imagined, probably close to her own age. Pretty fit and not bad looking either. He wore a beard, of course. Guys today seemed to like the rugged look. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t be sure if she knew him. The beard and the poor light worked to disguise his features.

She looked into his eyes. “Lupus is gonna stay with you while I go check inside. One move and he will rip your face. Got that?” He gave a nervous nod, eyes fixed on the hanging jowls above his face.

She jumped up and headed inside. After a quick tour through the cottage it didn’t seem anything was missing. She’d found a tool bag in her Nanna’s bedroom but nothing else. She took a roll of duct tape and a screwdriver from the bag. After she had locked the door she jabbed the screwdriver into the frame around the lock, before tossing it into the woods. She ripped off a length of duct tape and stuck it firmly across his mouth. “Sorry about this,” she smiled sweetly, “I guess that’s going to pluck out a few whiskers when we rip it off later! But that will be the least of your worries, let me tell you.”

“Now, we’ve got two options here. I can call the cops, tell them how you broke in and tried to rape me, or we can apply what we call in my criminology class, ‘restorative justice’. Know what that is?” The woodcutter shook his head nervously, still eyeing Lupus. “Well, let me explain.” She looked right into his eyes. “It’s about you putting right what you damaged through your actions. You could say ‘eye for an eye’, but not really. You know, it’s probably easier for me to demonstrate.”

She reached towards his waist, and tugged his belt free, then the buttons and zipper of his jeans. He tried to wrench free, until Lupus curled his lips to show his canines. He lay back down then, complicit in his own reckoning.

“Are we done foolin’ now?” she asked, curtly. The man gave a briefest nod, and a gasp as he felt his pants tugged sharply down. She sat astride his legs, then took hold of his flaccid cock and ball sac, massaging him firmly. He gave a yelp as her nails jabbed his tender flesh as she squeezed his sac, rolling his balls painfully. He gave out a muffled cry through the gag and tried to jerk away. She held her grip and leaned close to his face, now full of pain and confusion. “Don’t like it when I’m rough with you, do you?” she snarled.

Despite the pain Rebekkah felt his shaft began to swell in her hand, pushing against the cage of her fingers. Changing her grip, she began to stroke him slowly with one hand, whilst continuing to squeeze and roll his balls. He was now fully erect and brimming tears. “You don’t know if you love it or hate it, do you?” She raked her nails around his gleaming cock head as she spoke. His shaft jerked and leaked clear fluid as she did so. She continued with full, firm strokes as she rolled and punished his balls. She felt him stiffen as his orgasm approached. At that point she released him. He cried out in agonised frustration as his cock jerked and spurted, the pleasure lost in that final moment.

As his cock subsided, Rebekkah scooped up his cum with her finger. She wiped some on her sweat pants and top, then reached inside to her knickers. “Insurance,” she whispered.


Rebekah looked up at the sound of a car. The headlights illuminated the scene on the front deck. A woman stepped out. “Looks like you started without me! Having fun?”

“Hey Sarah, I think we just reached an understanding. Buddy here was fumbling in Nanna’s drawers when I caught him. He attacked me, Lupus helped out and that’s how we got here.”

“Lupus pulled his pants down and tossed him off?”

“No, silly! I was explaining the concept of restorative justice to buddy here.”

“I don’t recall that definition from any criminology lecture I’ve had!”

“Details! It’s an adaptation, but the jist is there. Along with the jism!”

Sarah laughed. “Good one. Okay, so is buddy up for this?”

“Good point. Wait one.” Rebekkah turned to the man. “You remember your options? About the cops, rape charge, burglary in the first degree? 20 years. Pretty boy like you, you’d be real popular I’m sure. Is that what you want?” He shook his head vigorously. “So you want to deal with this between the three of us, here and now, no questions asked?”

He looked from Sarah to Rebekkah, the fear evident in his eyes.

“Poor baby! Put him out of his misery, for God’s sake!” laughed Sarah. She looked down at him. “Look buddy, we’re not going to chop off your dick or maim you. We’re just gonna have some fun and make sure you remember to ask nicely next time you feel the urge to try a slice of honey pie – and you don’t break into old ladies’ houses. Let’s say, you’ll have a better idea of our point of view come tomorrow morning, and I’m guessing you might even like it, just a little bit.” She shivered in the cold. “Jeez, it’s freezing out here. Look, we can leave you out here, as you are, and call the cops. They might get here in an hour or two, by which time your pretty little dick will be al black and shrivelled with frostbite, or we can get inside and warm up. Your call.”

The man looked up at Sarah and gave the briefest of nods. “Okay, there’s your consent. Now let’s party!”

Rebekkah turned to the bound man. “Okay fella, time for a ride. Now, I’m gonna loosen your feet. Don’t try anything now. Lupus is real partial to sausage.” She grabbed his limp cock and laughed at her own joke.

Rebekkah removed his boots and tugged his jeans down to his ankles before untying the leash. He still had his hands bound behind his back, and now he was hobbled. Using his cock as a handle she urged him to his feet and towards the car. As he stepped down from the porch he stumbled and landed hard on his knees. Without his hands to stop him he face-planted into the snow, naked rump uppermost. He struggled to right himself until he felt a boot on his neck.

“Seems a shame to waste this moment, don’t you think?” said Sarah. “I’ve got my horse riding gear in the trunk.” Rebekkah dashed forward, popped the trunk and pulled out a crop. “A little warm-up I think,” laughed Rebekkah. “It’s a bit chilly out here.” She whipped the riding crop hard across his upturned cheeks, leaving a vivid red stripe with each stroke.

“My turn,” said Sarah. Rebekkah handed her the crop. To keep her foot planted on her victim’s neck she had to swing down vertically. At first her strokes whipped longitudinal stripes down each cheek. Then she aimed a stroke into his cleft, whipping his anus with the leather tip. He howled through his gag. The girls laughed at the sound, and Sarah aimed another stroke.

“Enough!” laughed Rebekkah after Sarah missed her aim and slapped the crop against his tightly drawn sac. “Let’s get him to my place. We’ve got a whole night of fun ahead of us!”

Should we continue, to see where Sarah and Rebekkah take their ‘restorative justice’? Let me know in comments.

Red Riding Hood

red riding

The shrilling of the phone broke her train of thought. She was struggling to get going on her essay and another interruption was the last thing she needed. She glanced at the clock – jeez, 10pm already – who’s calling at this hour? She picked up the handset and frowned. “Why are TrustForce Alarms calling me?” she wondered. She stabbed the Talk button. “Hello, Rebekkah Redmoor, who’s calling?”

“Good evening Ms Redmoor. This is TrustForce Alarm monitoring service. We have an alert from Mrs Forsyth. We called her home but got no reply. This number is listed as our emergency contact.” The caller was polite and efficient.

“Yeah, that’s Grannie. Is there a problem? She’s probably asleep. Her alarm is always going off. What d’you want me to do?”

“Ms Redmoor, we require a positive confirmation of an incident before we can contact the police. We have had several false calls from this residence recently. Is there anyone able to investigate?”

“What? No. I’m here on my own. You want me to go out in the middle of the night to see if there’s an intruder before you send the police? No friggin’ way!”

“Miss Redmoor, excuse me for asking, but are you over the age of majority?”

“Yes, I’m 21”

“Well then we do require you to confirm the report. If we dispatch police to another false arlam then Ms Forsyth will be charged the cost and we will have to terminate her monitoring service. I’m sure that’s not what you would want for your Grandmother, is it?”  His tone had changed. Still polite, but now with an assertive, authoritative air like her father. “There is no need to put yourself in any danger Miss, but we do need to know this is not another false alert. If there is the slightest reason to suspect anything untoward you can call the police directly and avoid any confrontation.”

Reluctantly, Rebekkah said she would check, and hung up. She stood up from her desk and glanced outside. “Great,” she thought, “It’s snowing.” She considered her options. Grannie had no cell phone, and they said they’d already called the house. She could call her parents, but they would be seriously pissed. This was their anniversary and they had taken off for a romantic weekend, leaving her at home with the dogs. At 21 she was certainly more than capable, and they trusted her to deal with things responsibly. That came with the territory as a Redmoor.

With no alternatives, she trudged to the kitchen to winter-up, donning her red Canada Goose jacket, winter boots and gloves. She pulled a red toque over her curly auburn hair. She was about to step into the night when she felt eyes on her back. She turned to see Wolfie straing back at her, his white fangs catching the light as he panted in anticipation. “Might as well kill two birds,” she thought. She whistled to the hound. “Wolfie, come on.”

Together they headed out into the evening snowstorm. She tugged the fur collar tighter as a squall whipped shards of snow at her face. Wolfie didn’t seem to notice – to the Malamute this was like a summer’s day. Grannie’s home was behind her own home. It had always been her very own Hanzal and Gretel cottage in the woods. In summer she would cut through the back woods and pop out on Grannie’s doorstep, but in winter she took the longer route by road.

They trudged down the lane, passing the vacant lot being cleared for another new house. With her head down, she almost smacked into a truck parked opposite Grannie’s driveway. She cursed as she stomped past. Glancing inside she didn’t see anyone, just the typical junk of a forest worker’s truck – logs in the bed, chains hanging off the guard rails, the axe rack, empty, across the back window.

Reaching the house, Rebekkah saw that there was a dim light glowing behind the curtained room to the right – Grannie’s bedroom. “She’s in bed!” she muttered to herself, “Old biddy’s probably turned her hearing aid off.”

She stepped up to the door and tried the knob. She wasn’t surprised to find it open. She spoke under her breath. “One of these days, Grannie, there really will be an intruder back here. Can’t trust anyone today you know. Just lock the damn door!”

She opened the door and stepped inside, banging her boots clear of snow. She left Wolfie outside – the big dog would just shake as soon as he got indoors and she didn’t want to spend the rest of her evening cleaning up after him.

“Grannie, you awake?” Rebekkah called. She stepped towards the front bedroom.

No reply.

“You okay, Grannie? The alarm company called, said they couldn’t reach you,” Rebekkah called out.

A voice spoke, “Oh, you know,” the replying voice wavered. Grannie’s voice sounded hoarse – maybe she had a cold?

Rebekkah moved into the bedroom and reached for the light switch. Nothing happened. “Grannie, did a bulb go?”

A hand grabbed at her wrist and yanked her into the room. She was spun around so that her back was to her attacker. The man was strong, and smelt of wood and sweat. His encircling arms pinned her. She felt his breath on her neck. “My, what a pretty little thing we have here,” he breathed. He held her tight with one strong arm and slipped his free hand inside her coat. He grabbed a handful of her breast through her sweater, squeezing and groping her painfully. “Maybe not such a little girl either,” he breathed, continuing to maul her chest.

Rebekkah flicked the glove off her hand and smashed her nails into the back of his encircling hand. The shock was enough for him to release his grip enough for her to spin free. He grabbed her again, face to face this time. He forced her backwards, towards the bed. She felt the bed behind her knees. The certain knowledge of his intentions spurred her again, and she pushed back just enough to allow her to bring her knee up hard and fast, smashing into his groin. He roard and fell back. She kicked him this time, smashing her boot into his hands which were now clutching at his wounded pride. With him doubled over and temporarily incapacitated, she made her escape.

The man recovered quickly, protected somewhat by his woodcutter gear and the adrenaline coursing through him.  He stumbled after her and grabbed her just as she started down the steps from the porch. Pinning her once more, he snarled at her, “You like it rough? I’ll show you rough.” He lifted her bodily off her feet. As he turned her back into the house, he stopped. Standing between him and the door was a huge beast – it looked like a wolf. The animal bared its teeth and gave a guttural growl, then leapt at the man.

He dropped Rebekkah to fight off the beast. Wolfie sank his teeth into the man’s arm and shook him like a tug toy.

“Good boy, Wolfie. Hold him there,” said Rebekkah. She took Wolfie’s leash and quickly bound the woodcutter, hand and feet.

Rebekkah stared down at the restrained man. “Yeah, I like it rough, but I prefer bondage, and I like to be in charge. Now, where shall we begin?”


Duolingo XXX

latinaI’ve always wanted to speak another language, and with all those hot-blooded Latinas around, why not try Spanish?

To get going, I turned to the popular (and free) online tool from Duolingo. This is a crowd-sourced language course, and as I worked through I began to notice some tasty little Easter Eggs available to ‘help out’ a foreign visitor who might be looking for something, shall we say, off the regular menu.

It might be my schoolboy mind (after all, which of us can honestly say we didn’t look up dirty words in French calss, or turn straight to the ‘reproduction’ section in Biology), but I will let you be the judge. Here are a few phrases Duolingo offers up to the emerging Hispanophile looking for some Latina action:

In the early days:

¿Somos una pareja? after a tentative first date (are we a couple?).

A great chat up line? Creo que te voy a elegir (I think I am going to choose you).

And the snub she will give you? ¡Eres apenas un niño!  (you are barely a boy!).

Things moving a little quickly? ¡No creo! (I don’t think so)

And once you’ve on to the bedroom, Duolingo offers up a veritable feast of useful phrases to be sure you get your point across:

Latinas love their boob jobs, so how can you go wrong with this line:

¿Son reales? Paracen naturales, los tengo que sentirlos” (are they real? They seem natural. I have to feel them).

Now, assuming all has gone well so far, and el gringo is kneeling behind his lovely Latina. She has her hips high and her ass spread. “Estoy de rodillas’” she murmurs, “puedes hacerlo.” (I am on my knees, you can do it).

He is kneeling, cock in hand, on final approach. Let’s be generous and say he ‘slipped’ and popped up her pooper. She will likely scream ¡Asi no! ¿Dónde lo pone?” (Not like that! Where are you putting it?). “Lo siento”, he murmurs, Pensé que te gustaba” (Sorry, I thought you liked it).

She looks at him. “El gringo, his cock is not so big,” she thinks. “Maybe I will let him fuck my ass”. ‘Bueno”, she says, “lo haré eso, pero despacio, por favor” (okay, I will do that, but slowly please).

And afterwards, warming up for round two, el gringo pulls his latina lady across his knee for some spanking. “El dolor es bueno,” he whispers, spanking her bubble butt firmly (the pain is good). She moans with pleasure. “otro más por favor”, she cries. usaré tu cepillo” he replies (I will use your brush) and begins his count, “uno, dos, tres …”

Well thanks Duolingo. Armed with these phrases I think I have all I need for a fantastic Colombian vacation.