tagExhibitionist & VoyeurSarah's Games Ch. 01

Sarah's Games Ch. 01


Sarah had positioned herself on all fours atop her bed facing away from the open bedroom door. Her jeans and underwear were bunched at her knees, her shirt and sweater disheveled around her neck, and her small breasts were pulled up and out of her bra, hanging free, with painful wooden clothespins gripping each nipple. Her hands were handcuffed in front of her. The key was resting on her lower back.

"Ohmigod, what if I get caught?" She kept worrying over and over, straining to hear if her boyfriend's car had arrived. Was that a car door? Was someone opening the front door?

She promised herself she would wait motionless until the last possible minute before putting herself back together. "Ugh," the thought of getting caught brought a moan from her throat. "Mmm," why did she get off on this so damn much?

Was I always like this? Maybe. When I was 17 or 18 I almost got caught making out with a guy at a wedding and I remember wanting to get caught. I was looking over his shoulder for one of the bridesmaids or maybe a relative to catch us, almost hoping someone would see me letting him slide his hand inappropriately up my dress. The more I worried about it, the hotter it got me.

It's mostly little things like that. Maybe I'll leave my blinds open while I bend over and slowly change in the fading twilight after work. I'll glance in the mirror and wonder if I'm flashing the neighbors. It makes me feel, I don't know, nervous? Indecent? Dirty? But in such a good way!

For the most part I am decidedly un-adventurous. No makeup, ponytail, simple clothes, engineering degree - just a single young girl who reads a lot and goes to bed early. I've even wear these dorky glasses at work. But, ok, once in a while, I get these crazy fantasies in my head and I want to act them out, just a little bit. Except, like any addiction I guess, it starts out small but then isn't enough and you need to do more to get the same rush, right? A lot more...

"Hello? Sarah?" Fuck, she didn't hear his car. She turned slowly trying to feel the key slide from her sweaty back. The clothespins hurt even more when she moved.

She had a rule that she couldn't talk back or holler anything like, "Just a minute" or "I'll be right down." So she silently fumbled in the bedspread for the key with her pants at her knees – trying not to panic. The adrenaline was euphoric but now she had to make sure she didn't get caught. She managed to slip off the cuffs and push them under her pillow. Next came the clothespins. Mmmfff. Her hazel eyes watered when they came off but she had no time to waste in putting on her scratchy bra and getting her jeans back up her wet thighs. When her boyfriend bounded up the stairs and through the doorway she was adjusting her sweater and buttoning her jeans.

"Why can't you ever be ready on time? I said I would pick you up at 6:00!"

She sighed a slow deep satisfying sigh, wiped her eyes, and squeezed her legs together one last time. "Uhhh," she tried to apologize through her cat-that-got-the-canary grin, "Sorry."

Most of my exploits aren't nearly as complicated as this. It's the little things that get me off the most. Like...

I'll wear a short skirt to the store and tell myself I can only bend over at the waist to get each thing on my list. I don't even think the skirt is short enough to see anything, but in my mind I'm behaving shamelessly and it really turns me on. What if someone does see? How much might they see? Can they tell I'm getting all creamy? What does my racy red underwear say about me? And what would they think if they knew I was doing it on purpose! By the time I leave my nipples are rock hard and my pussy is aching for attention.

One time I went to a popular grocery store (across town of course) and forced myself to buy a box of condoms, two cucumbers and some baby oil. Nothing else! Just those three things in my basket. I was so nervous. My hands were sweating when I sized up the vegetables. My legs were shaking when I placed them on the conveyor belt. God, I couldn't even look at the other people in line; or the checkout clerk; or the cute bagger-guy who had to ask me TWICE if I wanted paper or plastic. It was such a rush. I was making a puddle in my underwear.

I left my "groceries" spread out on the passenger's seat of my car and I sped all the way home – almost hoping I would get pulled over and questioned. Admonished. Punished for being so naughty. I made it back to my apartment giggling like crazy.

Back in my bedroom I looked in the mirror and saw a little girl who had just been caught doing something very bad. Tisk, tisk. I pouted my puffy lips and unclipped my blond ponytail. I made myself drop my shorts and gave my ass a playful swat while scolding myself for being such a tease. Bad girl, you need to be spanked... on your bare bottom. I pouted again and regretfully pushed my soggy underwear down. Hrmff.

I tried to vividly picture the people in the store staring at me now: the older businessman on the phone; the soccer mom; the skater punk; and oh fuck that cute bagger guy. The nervous rush hit me again. I tried to imagine the things they might be thinking: "What a kinky little slut!" I smacked my ass again. Bad girl. I squeezed my legs together and shivered. "What kind of girl buys baby oil and cucumbers?" Smack. "What is she going to do with them?" Smack.

I cracked a guilty grin and savored the dirty feeling as my gaze fell onto my new pile of toys. If they only knew!

Here's another silly example from my blog:

Fucking SUVs. Does everyone have to drive a fucking school bus to mail a letter? Sarah was wondering why her two-door Nissan had become the smallest car left on the road when a third monster truck cut her off. "Fucking asshole!" she was yelling at her windshield now. "Fucking shit! God damn it!" Still fuming when she got home, she brushed her bangs away from her eyes and felt really silly. Then she felt ... mischievous.

"That was some pretty foul language young lady," she thought to herself as she walked into her bathroom with a shy grin. She found a small bar of soap and stuck out her tongue. "Wipe that grin off your face; you've been a very bad girl." She rubbed the bar of soap on her tongue and told herself to let that sink in for an hour. Then she tried to read a book but her thoughts kept drifting back to her "naughty soapy mouth." She shifted her heels under her butt, swallowed again and found herself getting more and more turned on.

Ugh. Now she would have to wait an HOUR before she could play with herself. She kept her clammy hands on her book like a good girl and swallowed. Ick. She shifted desperately on the couch again and looked up at the clock – waiting and waiting – getting wetter and wetter – such a naughty girl.

It happens at work too. I like to tease myself by doing things that might seem a little... inappropriate.

For a long time I wouldn't even wear skirts to work. But then one day I dared myself to wear a boring knee length skirt and things sort of cascaded from there.

Sometimes I have to go to the color printer down the hall from my cubicle. And so, sometimes, I dare myself to act out. Like, I'll wait until I'm sure no one is around and then I'll "roll" my skirt at the waist, bringing it higher up my legs. With two or three rolls I have to be careful how I move because (if I've been especially daring) you might be able to see the tops of my thigh-high stockings. I suppose if I bent over you could see my underwear. On especially naughty occasions I make myself wear a thong – even though I hate the way it feels – to enhance the exposure. I would DIE if someone saw me like that. But see, that's the rush too. I get turned on thinking about doing it. Planning just how far I might push myself drives me crazy. And of course I get even more turned on by doing it! Lately I've been using the color printer a lot. Grin.

So recently I brought a single 6-sided-die to work. It adds another level of risk and removes some of my control which really makes me feel nervous... and naughty... and wet. So, um, I'll toy with the die for a while... and toy with it some more... and then finally... when I can't stand it anymore... I'll let it drop!

The number I roll dictates how many rolls I have to give my skirt. One time I had to do five rolls while wearing my thong and thigh-highs. Five!

I managed to walk to the printer ok but then I heard some voices coming and I almost fainted. I had to grab the printer for balance; my grey business skirt was rolled obscenely up my legs exposing the lacy tops of my stockings. The hem was as high as the bottom of my ass - where my wet thong was uncomfortably wedged. Fuck. I had to RUN back to my desk. I was terrified. My skirt wasn't covering me at all! I was positive that you could see everything.

The experience was so intense I wanted to fuck myself in my cubicle right then and there. I didn't have time to recover because moments later one of my managers stopped to hand me the charts I left at the printer. I caught him looking up my skirt! I couldn't prevent it. There was nothing I could do but sit there and mumble politely, a little out of breath, "Uh, thank you." Mmm, I drifted in cozy dream for the rest of the day squirming in my soggy thong trying not to leave a wet spot on my skirt.

Here is another game I played. A waiting game from my blog:

Four hour service window. Hmm, so I have to wait here for 4 hours until the phone company comes to check on my line? 4 hours could be a really long time. A girl could get into a lot trouble in a few hours. Maybe... hmm, should I tease myself a little while I wait? I shouldn't but... my body was forcing my mind to obey.

I decided to tease myself and "wait it out." The rules were really dirty:

1. Leave the front door cracked open with a note that said, "Please knock and come in." 2. Get naked. Completely naked. No cheating. 3. Slowly play with myself, on the living room floor, like a dirty little whore. 4. Wait. 5. Orgasm only ONCE and only AFTER hearing someone knock.

Ohmigod, what if I got caught? So wet. Mmm so wet. God it was so hard not to go over the edge but I needed to stay close so I could cum and still get dressed in time. Mmm, such a dirty girl. Every little noise threatened to make me cum. What if someone came in and saw me here, naked, in a sweaty heap on the floor?

My hands were soaked and my wrists were getting tired. I was on my back with a small pillow under my ass and my feet spread lewdly on the edge of the couch. Such a dirty girl. Teasing my clit.

And then, when I heard the loud, "Knock! Knock!"

"Ummmm! Ummmm!" It went right to my pussy. I plunged my fingers in and out as fast as possible. Squish. Squish. Mffff. I knew I might be really loud, so I stuffed my panties in my mouth to muffle my moaning. Mmmfff! The whole room vibrated! Mmmfff! The problem wasn't cumming quickly enough. That was trivial and mmmff fantastic.

The problem was stopping quickly enough! Shaking uncontrollably, trying to composing myself enough to coordinate getting dressed – it was like being drunk! It took a lot longer to get dressed than normal. I almost got caught.

I was flushed, dizzy and sweating when the repair man stepped into the living room. I was barefoot with my jeans barely on and my sweatshirt on backwards. My underwear and socks were tossed on the couch. I'm sure he saw them.

And of course I couldn't shake his hand because my hands were soaked; and, what's worse, I'm almost positive he could smell me. Fuck. Had he heard me moaning too? He leered at me curiously. God, I was so embarrassed. It was euphoric. I crossed my creamy legs and blushed hard looking down at my feet with a cute guilty grin.

Ok so now it's Friday night, 5:32pm. My boyfriend said he would pick me up at 6:00. So... should I? I could never let him see me like that. But... my hands were already unbuckling my leather belt and playing with the zipper on my khaki pants. Teasing the zipper up and down. Should I? Up and down... up and down. And down. Then, slowly pushing my tight pants over my ass. This is so wrong. And then all the way down to my knees, I glance in the mirror. I give myself a wicked grin through the bangs hanging in front of my eyes.

The blinds have been left open and it won't be completely dark for another hour. With my simple black panties on and my pants at my knees I feel really embarrassed. Naughty. Getting wet. I know it will only become worse now. I can't stop. My eyes water when I arch my back suggestively and glance outside. So naughty. Then I bring my hand down on my ass, hard. SMACK. Damn that was loud. Mmm, bad girl.

I look behind me at the open bedroom door and pause. Oh God, I shouldn't. But the rush is consuming me so I can't stop now. I reluctantly push my panties down my hips a little, starting to expose my ass, over my ass, then, yes, I keep pushing all the way down to my knees. I pause and with a guilty shiver I look over at the clothespins on my desk. Very bad girl. I smack my bare ass again, hard, twice. It starts to turn a little pink. I smack it again. Is it pink enough yet? I'm being very naughty, so... no... not nearly pink enough yet. Fuck, what if I get caught with a red spanked ass? How will I explain that! Maybe just a few more... before... I look around for the handcuffs. Smack. Bad girl. Mmm, getting redder.

My mind is racing. I grab a big red pen and a piece of paper and then crawl onto my bed with my clothes tangled around my knees. I glance once out the window and once more over my shoulder at the open bedroom door. I want to close it, but I'm burning up and soaking wet. I can't stop myself from a flurry of nasty thoughts.

I write, "Sarah has been a very naughty girl. She needs to be spanked and fucked." And then my mind pushes me to make it even dirtier and I add, "Fucked hard... in every hole." My eyes are watering now. I would never let anyone do those things to me. I'm not that dirty! I smack my ass again and leave the note at my feet facing the door. Mmmm. I'm sucking on the pen now. Oh God, please don't let him come over early.

I push myself even further. I'm still sucking on the pen when I find the handcuffs. Fuck. I can't do this. But I can't stop myself either.

I try to think of the dirtiest pose to force myself into for the next 20 minutes of agonizing anticipation. On my back, blindfolded? No. Standing in the corner rubbing my naughty ass. Mmmm maybe. No, not dirty enough. Then I picture myself submissive and humiliated. Like a total slut. Khaki pants and black panties at my ankles. Head down. Ass up. My hands cuffed... mmm... behind my back. Pink spanked ass on display. Dirty note at my feet. The pen, oh God, shoved in my pussy? Or maybe... no! Not in my ass! Umph. Key in my naughty mouth? Oh God I can't do that! What if someone sees me? What if I can't unlock the handcuffs behind my back? But then I run one hand down between my legs and almost cum when I slap my pussy, scolding myself, "Do what you're told you dirty girl."

I'm on my knees, moaning and sucking on the pen in my mouth. I slide a finger in and out of my greedy pussy. Fuck, I'm going to do it.

I reach around and tease the pen down to the pucker of my virgin ass. I make myself to push it in. All the way in. In one slow painfully tight shove. Ummmmmph. I'm lost in ecstasy now. I've got the key in my mouth as I drop my head down and toss the cuffs behind my back and then I pause one last time to savor the indecency. Oh God, please don't let him come over early. I clench my ass around the pen... mmmph... and lock my wrists.

Click. I'm bound. I'm a slut on display.

Oh God yes. I almost cum when squeeze my thighs and turn my head and look at the clock: 5:48. Such a dirty girl.

I clench my thighs over and over again and begin working myself into a sweaty mess. I turn my head the other way and see myself in the closet mirror. What a whore. I make myself watch. My face turns red. I squirm again and again, uungh, uungh... uungh!

Head down, pants down, wrists bound, ass stuffed. It's so naughty! I keep clenching on the pen and flexing my slippery thighs, uungh, uungh, so dirty...mmmmm... I convulse into my first ever no-hands orgasm.

"Aaaahhh," I moan and the key slips from my mouth into a puddle of drool on my bed. It's 5:55.

The scene before me in the mirror is shameful. Maybe I should get myself a digital camera to capture my degradation?

Oh God, no, I couldn't!

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