Calling all perverts!

Hey just another reminder that the place to read the newest and naughtiest smut is on my new blog Here

Seriously go take a peak! Plus you can have tons more communication with me. A.k.a. tell me what you want to read.

I'm not lost!

Hey if you still stalk this blog you're in the wrong place my friends! I have my new ( better) work on my tumblr blog now~!

 http://blythewritesdirty.tumblr.com/

^^ Click it! You know you want to! Beside on top of my wonderful smut you'll get dirty pictures of me, of other people, and more often posting. Thats right dirty pictures AND more smut. Now you really have to click it. Please do! Also tell your other naughty friends! The more the merrier.  ;)

Games

Some games I've made up and played. Wanted to share them with everyone.

1. No-Hesitation

How its played - The sub wears as less amount of clothes as possible. In the case of girls I'd recommend no bra or panties or for guys maybe no underwear and baggier easier to reach in pants. The dom spends the whole day teasing the sub, keeping them on edge. Trying to turn them on as much as possible. The sub has to trust the dom not to abuse the privilege and the sub may not deny the dom at any time.

Win / Lose - If someone sees the dom they lose.
- If the sub masturbates they lose


2. No Hands, All Hands

How its played - The sub lays still ( or however placed by the dom) either clothed or nude. The dom gets to tease and play however they want. The sub isn't allowed to move unless instructed. If the sub moves they're denied a orgasm. Every movement equals a denial. So the sub must ask when they want to cum.

Win / Lose - This is more of a give and take game.


3. Breathe

How its played - The dom wraps a hand around the subs throat, keeping them at a distance. If the sub wants to kiss the dom they are forced to cut off their own breath.


4. How Nude Can You Go?

How its played - The sub starts the day wearing a good amount of clothes, layers really. The at seemingly random points in the day the dom lets the sub know to take off a piece of clothing. The sub gets to pick which piece.

Win / Lose- They either call it a draw or the sub forfeits.

Wish List

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Tale of a Spanking.

I watch everyone file into the classroom from around the corner. The trick is to be late, but not get caught being late by anyone but him.

5...4...3...2... Riiinnnggg!

Thats the bell.

I rush into the classroom. Fake panting as if I ran to get here. Clothes slightly disheveled. I don't dare make eye contact until I reach my seat in the back of the room. I don't want him to notice that its all just a cleverly put on act. A means to an end. I pass dozens of girls, all prim and ready.

All in matching uniforms. Navy blue skirts, grey over the knee socks, white button down shirt with a navy blue tie, and most importantly cotton white panties. Every single girl. See, at my school the main punishment is spanking and teachers don't want the girls wearing promiscuous panties. As I sit, I finally look at him. Straight in the eyes, challenging him with only a look. 

"Ms. Miller I hope you have a good reason for being late."

"Should I?" I quickly retort.

"How about you come join me in front of the class?"

"Hmm... Sure I guess so." Tapping my chin I pretend to be thinking about it. Very deliberately I walk to the front of the room.

"Pull down your panties. Bend over the desk." I'm sure some mixture of a refusal and a smartass comment comes out of my mouth. Its obvious that I'm testing him. Still, he keeps calm and collected. Once again he demands I bend over. The sadistic look in his eyes is one I know well. Fear bubbles up as I realize I'm only giving him the excuse he needs to be more cruel. For the sake of self preservation I slowly bend over his desk.

Still I won't pull down my panties. I don't want him to see how wet they are in anticipation. The white cotton is sticking to my wet cunt. Lying as flat as I can on the desk only makes the buttons from my shirt dig into my breasts more. His fingers barely brush my skin as he folds up my skirt and tucks the end into the waistband.

Reaching over I grab the other side of the old wooden desk to steady myself. I pray that the other girls can't see my legs shaking. Swiftly he yanks down my panties. Not with malice, but with a "rip the bandage off" mentality. I hiss through my teeth when I feel the cold air of the classroom hit someplace warm.

Over my shoulder I hear him say to both me and the class, "This is the third time in a month you've been tardy. My pat-" I can't help myself, the words fly out of my mouth before I can catch them.

"Oh, don't get your panties in a bunch. Its not like I missed anything interesting. This is math class after all." He continues as if he didn't hear my statement.

"- ince is running thin. 15 swats for tardiness and 10 more for unladylike behavior." A gasp erupts from the class. 25 swats! Its unheard of! I swear he nearly smiles as he bends over and grabs the ruler next to me. As he does so he whispers in my ear "See me after school young lady."

I shudder and nod. Loud enough for everyone to hear he reminds me to thank him for each hit. I remind myself that I will not cry. Though I know he will not once pet my ass, I like to imagine he will rub the sting away after each hit; soothing all the redness. 

Smack!

I squeal and jump a little. I'm never prepared enough for the first strike. "Thank you, Sir." I spit out with as much venom as possible. I bet he thinks he can break me, thats cute.

Smack!

"Thank you, Sir." Breathe. Remember breathing is good. I giggle at him, pushing his buttons.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

He hits quickly and I lose myself in the punishment. I thank him after each one. Still trying to keep myself relaxed and breathing, I pretend to yawn as if this is boring me to sleep. Not letting on that each spanking is a wave of both pain and pleasure. 

"This. Is. Not. A. Laughing. Matter." Each word is emphasized by a strike of the ruler. The 'Thank you, Sir's ' became higher pitch as I feel like every smack is one against my clit. My thighs slick with dripping juices. I imagine him setting down the ruler only to slip his hand between my legs. Finding out for himself just how wet I really am. Maybe he even slips a finger in. My little fantasy is so vivid in my head I have to bite back a moan at the idea. 

Smack!

"Thank you, Sir." Oh how much I'd love to hear the class mummer in shock as my math teacher makes me cum in front of them all. I do a mental count. Only a couple more.

Smack. Smack. Smack. Done.

The lovely stinging and warmth spread across my bum. I'll admit this isn't my first spanking. But every single one is better than the last. With as much dignity I can muster on shaky legs; I stand up. I pull up my panties then I set down my skirt. I refuse to look beaten, but its best not to look to excited either.

Walking back through the rows of open mouthed girls, I can't help but crack a smile. I win, I think to myself. Sitting down for the first time, I have to fight the urge to jump back up as the pain floods. A striking emphasis on the punishment I just endured. As I'm getting out my notebook I suddenly remember what he whispered into my ear, 'See me after school young lady'. His stern voice reminds me. Hmm wonder if I really won after all. 

Hands

I love roaming hands. Hands with ADD. Hands that can't sit still. Groping, rubbing, grabing, petting, pinching, pulling, tickling, massaging, restless hands. Let your hands wear themselves out on my body.

Lose them in the soft folds of my clothes. Hear me whimper while your hands caress my skin. See I don't just like restless hands, I like eager hands, rough hands, nervous hands, patient hands. Those are the ones that will remember every bit of your body. Every freckle, every crease, and yes your every flaw. Despite that they'll love you anyway.

Experience tells me hands are best enjoyed with a glass of wine and John Mayer playing in the background. Preferably with lots of time on- I mean for our hands. There was a time in my life when I didn't trust hands. But now to the right pair I will expose myself.

Willing to be at their mercy; for good or for bad. I will not deny that hands fascinate me. I'll let you in on a secret; I'm guilty of having roaming hands.

No part of your body is safe from me. Given permission I can likely spend hours memorizing which paths are best to take. What gives you goosebumps; goosebumps that I read like brail. Let your body speak to me through my hands. A language all hands understand.

Taunted, Teased, and Tortured.

"Huh, what was that? What'd you say ragazza?"

"I...I...Mmm...I said you're an asshole."

You had on that smirk. You know the one that just drives me insane. Instinct drives me to kiss it off you face. Not light kisses, but hard ones that leave swollen lips. I was putty in your arms as soon as the alcohol put that evil glint in your eyes. Admittedly it wasn't very long until I found myself with a knee in between my legs and scratch marks down my back.

If you were to have me recall exactly how I got there, I don't know if I could. I might tell you it started with one too many drinks and a fake lip piercing. Which in turn lead to a kiss. From there is was a cocktail of halfhearted refusals and sharp nails.

Somewhere on my bedroom floor is my stubbornness. I'm pretty sure its lying next to my sweats, tanktop, and bra.

"Is something wrong ragazza?" Your Italian accent thick on your tongue.

"W-why would you ask that?" I stutter, confusion displaying on my features.

"Well, your whimpering, that must mean something is wrong, right?"

Confusion is sucked away by embarrassment. Some form of a denial slipped through my lips. All the while clever fingers rub at my clit and a smartass mouth tantalizes my nipples. I was being taunted, teased, tortured, and goddamn if I wasn't loving every bit of it.

No doubt he was getting justice for earlier. I should've bit my tongue instead of telling him theres no way he could be a dom. That he couldn't be good in bed if he tried. Now I'm "suffering" the consequences.
 I was oh so mmm... wrong.

"Oh please please stop." I whine. He's given me so many orgasms I've lost count. The pleasure is borderline painful.

"Stop what princess?" He chuckles.

"I can't take anymore. I'm too s-sensitive."

"Take what?" You ask sadistically.

"You know exactly what I', talking about!" I exclaim.

"Do I?" You taunt me yet again.

My huffs and squirms do nothing to remove your hand from in between my legs. Overloading my system, and forcing me to orgasm against my will. Even when I've finally had a break and actually craving an orgasm, I found that he thought it was hilarious to snatch his hand away at the worst possible moment.

Needless to say, by the end of the night I was a mess.

The bed was soaked, and he and I were both exhausted.

I've found that he has a way of surprising me.

I'm back!

Yes that right. I'm back guys! The piles of shit I've been going through these past couple months have made me step back. Basically I've been trying to get back into life and just live as healthy as possible. To catch all you lovelies up a little I've moved on from a lot of people in my life. In return the Goddess has blessed me with new amazing people.

First of which is my best friend Mon Cher. He's quite the firecracker, gay as all hell, and there's no one I would rather be around every day. Second is Handsome. Well he's my boyfriend, yet he's one of my best friends. He has a way of making me smile that no one else does.

I've also been writing... A lot. About a lot. Hopefully I can share some of that. I also hope to once again entertain the beautiful people who read my tidbits. Not to say life isn't hard, or scary. But life is always hard and scary. I just want to write about it. :) I may never be back to "normal" but I've got some great people who've got my back on my side.

So, yes I'm back.

Always
Blythe

What being a writer means to me

It means never leaving well enough alone.
It means adventures without all the treasure.
It means sometimes I'm just not good enough.
It means never giving up.

It means being alone with voices (known as characters) in my head.
It means seeing the things that are hard to see.
It means saying the things that are hard to say.
It means never, ever, giving up.

It means making someone think
It means making someone cry,
It means typewriters, and keyboards, pens, and paper.
It means never even thinking about giving up.

It means that scrap of receipt you found in the bottom of your purse that you hastily write on at the checkout counter, because you'd never forgive yourself if you forget the way you described her eyes.
It means empty tea cups and half read books.
It means knowing inspiration comes in all forms.
It means never losing hope, and not daring to give up.

It means traveling everywhere in your dreams.
It means having dreams.
It means the smile you get when you've found just the right way to word something.
It means never knowing how to word some things.
It means never in a million years giving up.

It means learning to say "I'm a writer" and not sound like you're still trying to convince yourself.
It means late nights, and lots of coffee.
It means people watching
It means theres always a good reason to never give up.

It means fan mail.
It means being someone guilty pleasure.
It means making a difference.
It means you can not give up.

It means being alone.
It means struggle.
It means knowing that you are just one piece to the world.
It means your lovers will live on.
And sometimes, just sometimes, it means knowing when to put down the pen. When to close your eyes, and just give some things up.

I'm Trying

I swear I am. Its hard to write lately. I know I'll get over it. Heck I wrote on Once Upon an Orgasm just for Daddy. Just need to get back into it little by little. doing it for Daddy no doubt made it easier though. Things have been weird for sure. But I'm trying not to turn this into a blog about a whiny little girl and her problems. I will say this: I have a goal to write something at least erotic related by the end of the week. Well thats all for now, off to bed. I have classes tomorrow.

PTSD

Okay its going to get all emotional up in here just a fair warning. A good friend that I had cared for and trusted greatly betrayed my trust in ways I haven't even started to process. Two Thursday's ago I was raped in my own backyard. There I said it. Well as close as I've been able to come to saying it. I've been falling apart, slipping through my own fingers. I can't sleep, I barely eat, I've been trying so hard to act like nothings wrong and just keep with my normal life. I can't stand being alone because my thoughts inevitably drift back there.

I've lost interest in erotic writing even. It feels like a chore more than a passion at the moment. Little things I do make me think of him, and again I'm back to that place in time. Taking my birth control trips me out, words people say, even making a P, B, & J left me almost in tears. I'm always on alert and freak out when I'm touched and I wasn't aware I was about to be. Hell I punched a friend yesterday cause they jumped out at me. (opps...)

So today I went to the Docs for a follow up on this whole thing. And guess what guys? I have PTSD. So yet another thing I have to find a way to process and deal with. All I want to do is cry and cuddle with Mr. Spiffy and suck on my paci.

I had an amazing five days with Mommy and Daddy ( I'll talk about more in detail when I can) that made me think I had this shit under control, but it just sneaks up on you. Other than all that I have a few complaints (imagine that...)  One: The cop asked my what I was wearing. Yes I'm being serious, he even asked my if I was wearing panties and what kind I was wearing. Two:  He asked me how many times I've had sex in my life. He made me feel terrible for having more sex then socially acceptable. In fact he even said he thinks I shouldn't be having so much sex.

Three: I have one or two friends who know about my being kinky and this incident and the biggest question I've been getting goes something like this "But I thought you like that sort of thing?" OMG OMG OMG OMG. I like kinky stuff I don't like someone forcing himself on me when I obviously said no. Many times.

Think of it like this: you like ice cream don't you? Sure you do! Ice cream is delicious. Now imagine someone prying your mouth open shoving spoon fulls of ice cream down your throat for an hour. Ice cream doesn't sound to good then huh? But wait I thought you liked ice cream? Exactly.

Yeah I really needed to vent I guess. Thanks for listening. Or reading :) Hopefully I'm be back to normal soon.

PAX and Thank yous

I'm excited for PAX! Its come at the perfect time in my life. I need to get away from all this hurt. I leave today, in fact I'm waiting for my ride now XD. Hopefully I'll have lots of pictures, and lots of inspiration for smut. No matter what happens in my life I need to keep moving forward and my smut should never stop flowing through my pen.

I don't know what my internet connection will be like while I'm there, so posts and updates might be pretty scarce for the next five days. But I do have something to say real quick if you'd bare with me. Thank you. What is a writer without his readers? Lonely thats what. Its more than my pleasure to write for you. So thank you from the bottom of my heart for showing up here every once in awhile to read.

Mother knows best

Mother always told me never to trust a man with dirty hands.
His were spotless.
I checked his palms, his long bony fingers, I even checked under his fingernails.
At least I thought so, until his hands kept grabbing me even when I said no.
Gripping, tugging, pulling, forcing.
No. No. No. Please...
Shirt gone.
Bra gone.
Pants gone.
Underwear gone.
Please don't. I don't want this. Please don't.
Tears fall, words fail.
Not strong enough, never strong enough.
I thought his hands were clean! I thought I could trust him.
I look closely.
His hands were never clean. His eyes never more piercing.
I check under his fingernails.
I see the dried tears of many women.
I see begging and pleading.
There shoved tightly in between the cuticles I see a losing battle.
Mother always told me never to trust a man with dirty hands.
I won't make the same mistake again.
After all Mother knows best.

Grrr... Microsoft word can suck it.

You guys can blame Microsoft Word for not having new juicy erotica. It decided to shut down in the middle of a two hour project! Grrr... I'm so frustrated right now. Nothing saved at all. Sigh it was going so well too! *Cuddles with Mr. Spiffy and cries* I need a hug. If I didn't have bad luck I wouldn't have any... Tomorrow I'll try again. Until then I'm going to mourn the loss.

Dear Princess Boo

( In response to my letter. It was just too cute not to post here as well.)

Dear BlytheBaby,

Yes!

I am honored to be your Protector, Teacher and Friend.

Being silly, exhibiting playfulness and caring comes naturally to a Daddy.

Being a big fat meanie is an aspect of my situational sadism!

The (not so innocent) flirtations are just part of who I have always been!

I also will do what I can to be the sort of knight you desire for I have been around the block more times than I care to imagine! And your recent post paints an everlasting smile to my countenance.

I will protect your good name by promoting your prose, uplifting your esteem, building your confidence and hopefully eventually help to participate in, coddle and help fulfill your small secret fantasies by leading you past the bad people and steering you towards the nice ones!.

It is interesting you admitted that we often "see what we want to see." I do this about myself and my persona frequently...and....I get myself hurt doing so sometimes.

But seeing yourself as you wish to be is the first step in making your dreams come true.

I want to teach you everything I know! I want to expose you to new experiences I have practice in. I want to introduce you to all sorts of new and exciting things!

I want to not only teach you how to be the best you can, I will lead by example by showing you ways to think like you never have before. There is not a soul who knows me who doesn't say I think differently- I don't think outside the box, I think inside my very own box!

I fear training you to be a good well mannered girl may be a little more difficult, as I cannot lead by example there. But training you to be a good person is paramount. Manners are not as important as intent, and I already sense you have the right heart. I hope to steer that heart and its heartfelt spirit in glorious ways!

A king? Is there such a thing as a "kink King?" The only ruler you're gonna get from me is the wooden one I place upon your behind when disciplining you! I'll stick to "Daddy" as for my aspirations. But I must admit, sometimes I already feel like a King with the beautiful people already in my life.

You already are PrincessBoo! And the crown is there, it just hasn't been polished. That's what I intend to do!

In anxious anticipation,

DaddyO

A Musicians Words.

She is the finest instrument. 
I always find her well oiled and clean. 
She always sings the most perfect tone. 
I play her religiously, delicately  and with passion. 
The kind of passion that vibrates your soul. 
No, the kind of passion that sets your soul on fire. 
Her song is always one of enthusiasm; she expresses everything fully, without holding back. 
Whether it be anger, sadness or love, and joy.
 I love to pluck her chords in the moonlight.
 It's a precious thing to see the light bounce off her skin and her back bowed.
 Eager fingers coaxing notes from deep within her. 
Sounds of ecstasy escape her throat. 
Her heavy breathing is my rhythm. 
 Her heart holds my beat.
I admit to her being my greatest muse. 
My finest instrument.

Together we make music.

Write Me Something Dirty.

Yes you read that right. I want dirty stories in my inbox. I want your biggest fantasies, your darkest fantasies, everything; at my fingertips. Give me poetry, give me short stories, give me a book (or three). As long as it makes my heart skip and my thighs wet.

I feel like I've read everything there is to read today, and I want more gosh dang it! More then that I want to see what goes through your dirty little minds ;) Come on if you read my stuff theres got to be something good in there! I don't care if your the worlds best author or just like me (A silly sex blogger).

If nothing else send me something to write about! blythe.miller14@gmail.com Come on you know you want me masturbating to your thoughts tonight instead of the other way around!

Pretty Panties.

I clutch at the rack in the ladies dressing room. Knees shaking I try not fall to the floor in a mess. What was going on? All I did was try out a bra and pantie set from the window. But suddenly I felt like there was more to these panties. It’s like something turned on a switch inside me, my clit was swollen and sensitive.

Every movement made the fabric rub against me, causing shivers to go up my spine and gasps to escape my mouth. I could hear moans from the stall next to me. Tori? Unlocking mine I knock on hers not caring that I’m practically naked. The door swings open and I’m being pulled in.

***

It was bright and sunny out. People smiling at us as we walk down a busy street. Looking over I see my bestie Victoria checking out a rather hot guy playing his guitar. For a minute we drool over his tattoos and muscled arms, before falling into a fit of giggles because he had noticed at us. "Oh my god, no way he was single." I gush.

"Of course not, and neither are we." She nudges me. "Remember our goal Katy. We need to wow our boyfriends tonight." We had been planning this for weeks. We wanted to blow our boyfriends minds tonight. We had everything set out. The music was in the player, the wine being chilled, and the condoms were in our bedside tables. Well everything but our outfits...

Which is why we were strolling the streets arm in arm on an early Saturday afternoon. Without saying a word Tori stops walking, staring into what looks like a lingerie shop. "Lets go check that out." She says pointing to an admittedly cute pair of lacy dark green panties and matching bra.

"Sounds good to me. As long as I get dibs!" I shout behind me as I rush into the store. She giggles and runs in after me, very nearly running into the back of me. I quickly look around. Grabbing a set just like the one I saw in the window. Tori grabs a navy blue version.

We both rush into a changing room. I strip my clothes off admiring myself in the mirror. The way my dark brown hair frames my face and falls low enough to just barely cover my breasts. My eyes, dark brown and inviting. I turn loving the way my body is curvy in all the right places.

Finally slipping on the bra I notice a bit of a tingling feeling, but dismiss it as the temperature of the store. Bending down I step into the panties, tugging them up over my bum. Surprisingly they fit perfectly; not to mention how soft and comfortable they are.

Then the tingling feeling was back, but lower. I could feel my core heating up. I don't understand why I was so needy all the sudden. Yet the feeling continued, growing.

I clutch at the rack in the ladies dressing room. Knees shaking I try not fall to the floor in a mess. What was going on? All I did was try out a bra and pantie set from the window. But suddenly I felt like there was more to these panties. It’s like something turned on a switch inside me, my clit was swollen and sensitive.

Every movement made the fabric rub against me, causing shivers to go up my spine and gasps to escape my mouth. I could hear moans from the stall next to me. Tori? Unlocking mine I knock on hers not caring that I’m practically naked. The door swings open and I’m being pulled in.

Before I knew what was going on her lips were pressed against mine. Not even knowing exactly what I was doing, I was kissing her back. Wrapping my arms around her soft waist, while her finger weaved themselves into my hair.

It was like my brain left the building and my clit took its place. We begin grinding on each other. Under the spell of the lingerie we moaned and gasped together. Still it wasn't enough. I needed more. I needed to be filled. As if reading my thoughts Tori slipped a hand inside the panties.

 Releasing her breasts from the bra I bent to suck and twirl my tongue around her extremely erect nipple; just as she slid two fingers deep inside me. A moan clawed its way out my throat. I began gasping in time with her thrusting as she finger fucked me. 

It wasn't long before I was on the brink. She sent me over the edge with one last thrust, this time curling her fingers up roughly rubbing my g-spot. Crying out I orgasm around her hand. Clenching and unclenching. Quietly we heard a knock on the door. We opened it to find a saleswoman with a knowing look on her face. 

"I see you found our latest line, wonderful isn't it? I'll check you out when you're ready." She said with a wink. Turning I look at Tori breathless and obviously aroused.

" Call and tell your boyfriend plans are cancelled. Your coming over to my place tonight. I need to return the favor. Many. Times. Over." With that I turned and walked out of the stall. Oh yes this will be the night we planned for and so much more.

How to tell if your shorts are too short in six easy steps!

How to tell if your shorts are too short.

Step one: Find about 20' of rope.

Step two: Tie a hip harness on. Tightly.

Step three: Admire your handy work in mirror.

Step four: Slip on a pair of shorts.

Step five: Check if harness shows in mirror.

Step Six: If it shows repeat step four through six with longer shorts. If it doesn't show congrats your shorts are not to short!

Tie me up.

I have a friend here in Texas, and when talking to him last night we had got onto the topic of tying girls up. Him being a rope lover and me obviously missing out on something I needed to know more. I was able to spend some unexpected time with him today. So here we are driving down the road talking about rope and whatknots (Tehe what knots). When suddenly BOOM homedepot appears. Okay so maybe we were driving by it... Either way in a split second decision we decide to go in and by some rope.

I swear my face was red the whole way in. I had convinced myself they knew exactly what we were buying rope for and to make matters worse we had to ask where it was. Twice. *shudder* Thankfully we were out of there quickly after finding and buying exactly what we wanted. Due to people both at his house and mine we took this little paryt to a park nearby.  First it was just my hands behind my back. Which was very thrilling.

My heart was fluttering. Every touch was intensified. I could feel him brush my skirt as he wrapped the rope around itself. I could feel the nylon rubbing lightly. Admittedly I fell in love with it the moment he made me turn around. Sadly it wasn't meant to last for some kids had saw us. Oops... Quickly we pack up and left to a much more discreet place. Where -drum roll please- I was tied up in my first harness.

It was too much fun! I didn't ever want to take it off. In fact I didn't for a while. We would be driving and abruptly he would reach over and tug either the front or the back of it, leaving me gasping and grinding. Keeping even somewhat normal convo during this is next to impossible. Sigh but it was so worth it in the end. ;)

Yet like all good things it didn't last. I had to go back home, untied. Surprisingly he let me take home the rope, which means for the last hour or so I've been tying myself up all sorts of ways. Even managed to recreated the harness he tied me up in.

Downward view.