Sarah's Games Ch. 01
by suggestiveness ©

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 knickers 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 knickers 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 
knickers 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 knickers 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! 

 
Sarah's Games Ch. 02
by suggestiveness ©

Hmm... what to wear... what to wear? It will have to be something sleazy 
won't it? A mischievous smile crosses my face. 

I'm fumbling through my underwear drawer and I pull out my white 
thigh-high stockings. Sleazy, huh? White thigh-highs are always a good 
start. Now for underwear. Or maybe no underwear? Hmm, could I? No 
underwear? And let's see. A skirt. A thin skirt? A short skirt? An old 
short pleated skirt? Blue plaid. Grin. 

T-Shirt. No. A blue sweater maybe? I have a loose v-neck knit sweater I 
like. What if I don't wear a shirt underneath it? Oh God that's so 
revealing. You can almost see through it! The room is getting warmer now. 

I slowly turn in front of the mirror. I tug at the bottom of the skirt 
trying to make it cover the top bands of my stockings. It's really close. 
Hmm, I walk to the window and back looking in the mirror. When the skirt 
moves you can definitely tell I'm wearing stockings! I try to pull them up 
a little more. It's getting really hot in here. 

I face the mirror and look at my chest. You can see my pale chest through 
the knitting but not my nipples. Not yet anyway. I give each one a hard 
pinch and things become more disgraceful. The scratchy sweater heightens 
my sense of awareness. I would never normally expose myself like this. 

I spin around in my Keds and watch my skirt float up enough to catch a 
glimpse of my bare ass! God I hope it's not windy. I bite my bottom lip 
and reconsider my outfit. I'm sweating and my eyes start to water. 

I toy with the hem of my skirt one last time and plunge out the door into 
my car and race to the mall. To the middle of the mall. To the really nice 
camera store in the middle of the crowded mall! I swallow hard and realize 
that I can't feel my feet as I walk into the store. I'm certain everyone 
is staring at me. I hope I don't bump into someone I know. I would die.

I stumble, winsome, into the store. "Can I help you with something?" Thank 
God it's a woman about my age. Her plump figure is hidden behind her 
designer suit. Her name tag says, "Melissa. Store Manager." 

"Um yeah, thanks Melissa. I need to get a small digital camera, um, 
something like this," I hand her the clammy newspaper clipping of a 
specific model I want. 

"Sure, we have a few of those left over here... blah blah... but you might 
like... blah blah." I have a hard time concentrating on what she is saying 
when we walk past a glass display cabinet and I catch the lacy tops of my 
stockings under my skirt. I realize I look like a total slut. And then I 
see that she is also looking at my reflection in the glass! Gush. She's 
probably thinking the same thing – what a slut! 

I start to fumble with my questions and then I get more nervous and, um, I 
start feeling and sounding like a silly schoolgirl. And then it gets 
worse. 

I have to ask her how to use the automatic timer. She smiles. Fuck, she 
knows. I know she knows. Is she looking at my chest now? My nipples feel 
itchy. I'm blushing. 

My checks get really flushed and splotchy when I'm nervous or when I'm... 
emotional... or when I'm... totally desperately turned on! 

She suppresses the smile. I think she's trying not to laugh at me. I feel 
like a naughty little girl caught in a lie. 

She shows me how to set the timer and I try not to look too embarrassed 
thinking about the naughty poses the camera might catch me in. I can't 
wait to get home and... bend over and... 

"Is there anything else you need?" 

Oh fuck. I give an audible whimper. I can't look her in the eye. I glance 
down and confess, "Um, yeah, um, do you sell, um, tripods?" 

"Sure!" She grabs my hand a pulls me to the back of the store. I lurch 
forward using my free hand to barely hold down the back of my skirt.

She bends down and fumbles around in the bottom shelves. "We had some on 
sale..." she's on her knees reaching way back. 

I know it's wrong but I can't stop myself from shuffling closer to where 
she is kneeling. I pretend to reach up to investigate things above her, 
above both of us, on the topmost shelves. Then I compel myself to be 
really bad. 

I spread my legs a little. I'm hovering right over her - terrified of 
what's going to happen. I know. I'm going to get caught and I know it's 
wrong but I have to make myself act as naughty as possible. I stand with 
my feet unnaturally apart. It makes me so wet. 

Finally after an eternity of rummaging she scoops out a pile of gear and 
turns and slowly looks back up. Up my pleated skirt! I can feel her 
looking up my legs past the tops of my thigh-high stockings. And I'm not 
wearing any underwear! I've never done this before. I can't make myself 
look, but I know she can see my dripping wet pussy. The store gets 
incredibly hot and perfectly quiet. I hold my breath and I feel my nipples 
getting hard under my scratchy sweater. 

She doesn't do or say anything! Silence. My whole body is tingling. More 
silence. Fuck she's probably still looking up my skirt. Why won't she say 
something or shift around me? Oh God, I can't move. Finally when I feel my 
pussy literally dripping down one of my legs I give up and step a bit to 
one side and peek down at her. She looks me dead in the eyes and grins. I 
am soooo embarrassed. The heat in the store converges between my legs. I 
wobble.

At last she says, "Want me to give you a quick demo, for using the whole 
setup, before you go?" 

But her tone is more like, "Want me to give you a quick spanking, for 
being such a naughty girl, before you go?" 

My eyes are watering; I nod and try to swallow but my mouth is dry. "Uh 
huh."

So right there, at the back of the store, Melissa arranges the tripod for 
me. Her voice seems more commanding and I'm doing what I'm told. She makes 
me attach the camera and I have to bend over to zoom and focus and then, 
for practice, "click," I take her picture. 

"Good, that's right. Make sure you can tell where the picture cuts off, 
ok? Now, leave some space right here next to me." She has me fiddle with 
more of the settings which kills me because I have to bend over to look 
through the camera and I'm sure my little skirt is riding up my bare ass. 
I can feel strangers looking at me but I'm too afraid to check.

I'm told to set the timer and come around and stand next to her. She puts 
one arm around me. 10, 9, 8... every second seems like an eternity. The 
little red light is blinking red, counting down, and her arm is sliding 
down my back. Oh God. I feel her hand brush across my butt. Mmff I bite my 
lip and shudder. Her hand travels down my ass to the hem of my skirt. 

"Click."

"Go see if you got that and we'll do one or two more, ok?" 

I shuffle to the camera and check everything and set it up again and then 
return obediently back into place. I wait. I want her to touch me. To make 
me feel dirty – even dirtier than before. I'm a dripping eager mess now.

Blink, blink, ... and then... oh God... I feel her hand at the edge of my 
skirt. I arch a tiny bit forward onto my toes and she drags her nails up 
one of my legs, under my skirt, up towards my naked ass. I want her to 
keep going. I'm blushing deep red now, mmmff, my eyes are squinting. I 
don't even hear the camera click when her fingers come to rest between my 
wet folds. So naughty. I can't believe I'm letting a total stranger feel 
me up! In the back of a crowded store. 

Back in front of the glass counter, I make myself pay with a personal 
check (which I would never normally do) – so I have to give her my address 
and telephone number. I still can't look her in the eye. I feel so used 
and humiliated. But in such a satisfied way.

I mumble, "Thanks for helping me. I'll, um, try to come back if I have any 
questions, from now on." 

But really I'm thinking, "Thanks for violating me. I'll, um, try to be a 
good girl, from now on." 

Gush. My legs are slippery. I can't wait to get home and look at the 
pictures. Especially the one with my eyes closed, my mouth slightly open, 
my feet apart, and Melissa looking at me knowingly – with her hand up the 
back of my skirt. 

Mmmm... so naughty. I'll recreate the scene dozens of times in front of my 
new camera...