Sexy joggers; busy day ahead for Martin ….

Hi, friends and readers:

I’ve been a jogger since I was in college, and that was a few years ago. Running is an integral part of my life. It helps control my weight, helps me sleep better, and keeps my brain calm. And it also brings about encounters with other runners like the guys in today’s photo posts. Hey, there’s nothing sexier than a sleek and sweaty young man wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy running shorts or a Speedo. Yummy ….

I’m up relatively early, and in just about twenty minutes I will drive over to Tampa to see an orthopedic surgeon about an issue I have with two fingers in my left hand. I know that sounds weird, but I use my left hand fingers to play my guitar and they are important to me.

I have a ton of correspondence to deal with when I get back home, and I just received my editor’s revisions on another novel I’ll have coming out later this year, so I will keep busy on those.

By the way, a reader once informed me that the photo to the left here was taken on a bridge near Seattle. Sorry I missed that race. 😉

A friend has invited me to have dinner with him and then spend the night at his place about 30 miles south of here, and I think I’ll take him up on his offer. He’s a boyhood friend who I don’t get to see too often, so I’ll pack a few things in my backpack and he’ll pick e up around five PM.

All right, everyone, I need to get ready for my trip to Tampa, so I will close this post by wishing all of you a wonderful Wednesday.

Lover boys getting close. Happy Valentine’s Day from Martin ….

lover boys #2Hi, friends and readers:

It’s Valentine’s Day 2017, and if you have a boyfriend (And you really should.) then it’s important that you spend some time today getting extra close to each other, like the boys in today’s photo posts are doing. No doubt what’s in store for Mr. Blondie to the left here, now is there. Bottom up! 🙂

My boyfriend just left for work, and I’m here at his apartment, looking out into his patio, where the flowers in a pot I brought him are blooming nicely. They really add color to the patio. And the roses and vase I bought him look great on his dining table where I am seated right now.

Call me a sentimentalist, but I think it’s important to do little things for each other, not just on holidays but all the time. It’s the difference between a ho-hum relationship and a meaningful one, in my opinion.

lover boys #6Well, it’s time for me to leave beautiful Tallahassee and return to my little island down south, where many projects and responsibilities await my attentions. I went to law school at FSU, here in Tallahassee, and it’s been nice re-connecting with the city after all these years. But I love where I live even more because I’m a coastal boy and I like to be near the shore.

In about an hour I will climb into my Honda Element for the five-hour drive home. It’s not a bad drive, really, at least until I reach north Tampa, but I’ll beat rush hour no problem. Once home I’ll need to water plants and go through the mail, and I’ll probably thaw something out for tonight’s dinner. It’s a full day for sure, so I’d best get on with it.

Have a Happy Valentine’s Day everyone, and a good Tuesday as well.

Sexy and shirtless; another beautiful day in Tallahassee ….

shirtless #2Hi, friends and readers:

I’ve said this many times before, there are some guys who should never wear a shirt, except maybe in church or a restaurant. Beyond that, never. I mean, look at this guy to the left here. I know he’s one of those Instagram douche bags who has zero talent, other than looking good, but still ….

We enjoyed a wonderful dinner last night, and then went out for ice cream afterward. Unfortunately I had a restless night, which is not like me, and I think it’s because I am still suffering the effects of the cold a caught about ten days ago. I think I may see my doctor when I get home. I may have to go on some antibiotic medication, which never agrees with my digestive system, but sometimes you do what you have to do, right?

saggy #2Anyway, we were up early this morning because I had to follow my boyfriend to a garage where he’s having his car looked at, and then I drove him to work. I’m back at his apartment now, and it’s a beautiful morning here: sunny, cool  and still. The high in Tallahassee today will be around 72 degrees F, just perfect. It’s only a quarter past nine right now, and I plan to do some work in the writing department for a couple of hours. Then I will meet my boyfriend for lunch at noon.

You know, one of the worst mistakes you can make is to go out for dinner with your boyfriend on Valentine’s Day because it’s always a mob scene no matter where you go. So we will have our Valentine’s Day dinner tonight. I already bought my boyfriend a bouquet of fresh roses when I got here on Friday, and we’ve had a very romantic weekend.

By the way, do you find the guy in the lower photo as sexy as I do. Don’t you know he’d be a wild one in the bedroom? I have a suspicion he’s a Czech, most likely form Prague. And maybe a rent boy as well. Yummy ….

All right, everyone, I need to get busy, so I will close this post by wishing you all a very pleasant Monday, wherever you might be.

Hot guys with sexy abs; Tallahassee is so beautiful ….

abs #1Hi, friends and readers:

Nothing looks quite as sexy as a young man with a set of rippling abdominal muscles. Washboard abs are something only young men with virtually no body fat possess. The rest of us can only wish we had a “six pack.”

Oh, well, in spite of the fact I enjoyed my youth, I wouldn’t go back, just for the gift of abs. I’m enjoying my life just fine with abs, thank you. But I still enjoy looking at guys who have them on display, like the two in today’s photo posts.

abs #2I arrived in Tallahassee Friday afternoon for a four-day visit with my boyfriend. He’s doing an internship up here that will last till late April. Tallahassee is one of Florida’s most beautiful cities, with its classical Southern architecture, its stately live oaks and long leaf pines, and its curving roads.

Yesterday we drove down to the coast to visit a remote state park where we rented a canoe and did a three-hour canoe trail on two beautiful rivers. We were the only people out there for the most part, and what a gorgeous place it was. This is a part of Florida most tourists and even native Floridians never see, and it’s too bad.

Anyway, we’ve had lots of fun doing things we enjoy, and it’s so good to be with my boyfriend for uninterrupted days. Last night we gorged ourselves on raw oysters before dining on barbecue. Tonight we’re grilling surf ‘n turf. The weather here is amazing: sunny, dry and about 75 degrees F.

Have a nice Sunday, everyone.

Hot guys wearing sunglasses; Martin’s off to Tallahassee ….



Hi, friends and readers:

Here in coastal Florida we never leave the house during daytime without our sunglasses. It’s sunny most every day, and because we’re surrounded by water the sun’s glare is intense.

Anyway, I like the look of a sexy guy wearing sunglasses. The sunglasses give him an air of mystery because you don’t know exactly what he’s looking at.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I think Mr. Ball Cap to the left here is about as sexy a guy as I’ve ever seen. He’s lean and slim in the hips, definite boyfriend material.

Speaking of sunshine, a cold front swept into town last night, and this morning it’s a little chilly out there. A stiff wind is blowing out of the north too, so winter is definitely here today.

sunglasses #4Check out Mr. Pink Undies to the left here. I’m not sure why he’s wearing sunglasses indoors, but that’s okay, he looks great in his, doesn’t he?

I have a busy day ahead of me today. Right after I eat lunch I will climb into my Honda Element and drive 250 miles northward to spend a long weekend with my boyfriend in Tallahassee. He’s doing a four-month internship up there, and so we’re doing the back-and-forth thing on weekends. I don’t mind making the drive. The traffic shouldn’t be too bad and the second half of the trip is actually pretty, once I reach the rural areas.

I’m bringing my laptop with me to Tallahassee, so I’ll be able to post while I am up there. Have a nice Friday, everyone, wherever you are. And if you’re going outdoors, don’t forget your sunglasses. 🙂

Cute boys with shaggy hair; another beautiful day on the island ….

blue t-shirtHi, friends and readers:

There’s always one in every neighborhood, the cute boy with shaggy hair who dresses a little sloppy and is always riding his bike past your house and looking like he could use a friend. Sadly, he’s underage and thus untouchable, but he’s still fun took gaze at while you’re reading the newspaper on your front porch.

For the past week or so I have suffered from a lousy head cold that just won’t go away, but this morning I am finally starting to feel normal again. I’m still slightly congested, but otherwise I think I’m okay, and maybe this afternoon I’ll work on a painting project for a few hours.

A friend came over last night and we watched a Netflix movie that was pretty funny. It was a good way to spend a quiet evening at home as I tried to shake my head cold, and I got to bed at an early hour.

bmx #2Check out Mr. BMX to the left here. He knows he’s being seductive when he rides around the neighborhood shirtless. He’s the type of guy who probably pleasures himself three times a day and only showers occasionally, so he’s kind of stinky. Hmmm …..

It’s another beautiful day, here on the island. The sun is shining, the air is still, and the temperature’s around 75 degrees F. The new flowers, tomato plants, and basil I just planted on my patios are all doing well and my house is looking great after all the work I’ve done on it lately.

Like I said, I have a painting project that I need to finish in the near future, and if I’m feeling up to par this afternoon maybe I will seize a brush and ladder and get to work. Otherwise I have much to do in the writing department. Not sure what I will do with my evening, but it won’t be much, as tomorrow I will be driving to Tallahassee to visit my boyfriend.

Have a nice Thursday, everyone.

Fourth and final installment of “Serving Lisa”. Typical Wednesday in store for Martin.

bdsmHi, friends and readers:

Oh my, it looks like someone’s been misbehaving in this morning’s video post. I’ve actually seen about a five-minute video clip from this production and it’s pretty hot. The young man in the video is slender and quite handsome, and he takes his punishment well.

We had a severe thunderstorm here on the island last night, with lots of lightning, thunder and heavy rain, but now the sky has cleared and the sun is shining. It’s a very nice day, in fact. Since it seems my head cold has finally subsided, I’ll follow my usual Wednesday routine, which means I’ll drive into the city to visit the YMCA for a workout. I’ll hit the supermarket on the way home, and then spend my evening working on edits on one of my works in progress.

All right, everyone, here’s the fourth and final installment of Serving Lisa. And remember, it’s not for the squeamish.


Serving Lisa, copyright Martin Delacroix 2010

It’s been an interesting month, here at Lisa’s and Andreas’s home. I’ve experienced varied punishments and humiliations, and I’ve relished each. But have I served well? Have I pleased my owners? Have I satisfied their needs?

I’ll soon find out.

Aside from attending university classes, I’ve remained in the house, mostly. Lisa whips me on a regular basis and my buttocks and thighs have been perpetually marked. Switchings are administered each Friday evening, rendering my bottom raw for weekend activities.

On my second day of service, Lisa introduced me to Ivan, a latex butt plug, conical in shape with a slender neck and a handle like a poker chip. Each morning thereafter, before breakfast, Lisa escorted me to an upstairs bathroom where Ivan is kept. I’d bend at the waist and spread my buttocks while Lisa greased Ivan, and then stuffed him inside my anus. The plug would remain there until my bedtime, when I’d remove Ivan myself, bathing him in soap and warm water before putting him away, all under Lisa’s watchful gaze. The first week, I wept every time Ivan entered me and I begged Lisa to withdraw the plug, but she always refused.

“Discomfort’s essential to a slave’s training,” she told me.

I’m still not used to Ivan, but I’ve accepted the fact that my anus no longer belongs to me. Lisa’s their owner and Ivan’s a daily visitor.

Each night since my arrival, I’ve slept on the floor of my owners’ bedroom, at the foot of their bed, on a pad. In darkness, I’ve often heard them make love, Lisa sighing, Andreas moaning. Had they forgotten I was there?

I’ve eaten all my meals from a stainless steel dog bowl on the kitchen floor without utensils of any kind, with my hands cuffed behind my back. Sometimes I was fed what my owners ate, other nights I ate canned dog food, jazzed with a bit of ketchup.

Once, Lisa took me to a party, a mistress/slave boy gathering held at a private residence with perhaps twenty guests. Lisa wore her knee boots, her mini-skirt and corset, and as soon as we arrived I was ordered to strip—all the boys were naked. Some were my age, others a little older. In the living area a small stage was outfitted with a chair and a leather paddle, and at various times during the evening one mistress or another would bring her slave to the platform for a public over-the-knee spanking. I remember the dread I felt watching the other boys endure their paddling, hearing their cries and viewing their crimson rumps. My own spanking was especially vicious; Lisa showed no mercy and my buttocks flamed. I lost control and wept like a child, feeling humiliated that so many strangers were witnessing my meek submission to Lisa’s will. Of course, my penis grew stiff as soon as I took the stage, it leaked pre-come as I writhed on Lisa’s lap, wailing and pleading for mercy.

Some boys were taken into bedrooms for sexual activities, but I was not allowed this privilege. Throughout my training, sex has been limited to the hand-jobs Lisa’s given me after my punishments, and I’ve yet to see her naked.

Andreas has shown no sexual interest in me, nor has he punished me. He treats me with respect and kindness, and though I address him as “sir”, I consider him a friend.

Now, I hear footsteps. I hear Lisa’s voice, Andreas’s too; they’re in the hallway. A doorknob turns and they enter the room. The time’s around ten in the evening and a single lamp burns on the nightstand. Light in the room is dim and I smell Lisa’s cologne.

My pulse quickens. It’s judgment time.

They approach. Andreas has brought the jar of salve and I hear him unscrew the lid. He stands behind me, a little to the side, saying nothing. He applies ointment to my punished buttocks, rubbing and squeezing them while my penis stiffens.

Lisa reaches for my erection; she teases the head with her fingertips. “Such a handsome boy,” she whispers.

I keep my gaze straight ahead, saying nothing. I blink my eyes and swallow. What will happen to me? Have they decided?

Lisa says, “Have you enjoyed your month of service, Lane?”

“Yes, ma’am. Very much so.”

“Do you wish to continue?”

Tears cloud my eyes and I shiver with joy. My voice cracks when I say, “Of course.”

“It won’t get any easier.”

Say it.

“Ma’am, I don’t like it easy.”

Andreas kisses my neck. “Good boy,” he says.

They lead me to their bed and Lisa lowers the covers, she plumps the pillows. She tells me, “Tonight you’ll be rewarded for your efforts, for your obedience.”

Andreas and Lisa undress.

Andreas lies on the bed with his legs outstretched and one arm bent at the elbow. His head rests against his hand while he watches me and Lisa.  His erection is a whopper.

I kneel before Lisa and bury my face in the dark curls between her thighs; I work my tongue up inside her. She smells like fresh straw. I spread her labia and find her clitoris and I worship it with all the vigor I can muster. My tongue flicks at the nub until it’s swollen and firm, till her juices flow and dampen my chin.

Lisa runs her hands through my hair and her breath quickens. She asks me to rise and we move to the bed; it’s a king-size with plenty of room for three.  I lie in the middle facing Lisa. I kiss her lips and our mouths open and our tongues rub like snakes.  After I lower my face to her breasts, I take a nipple into my mouth, licking and sucking. Lisa takes my penis in her hand; she squeezes and I moan.

Behind me, Andreas strokes my back with his fingertips, he massages my shoulders while the tip of his penis nudges my flaming buttocks. I reach behind me and give his erection a squeeze, it’s a “thank you” of sorts for his many kindnesses. His erection is bigger than mine, as thick as my butt plug.

Lisa looks me in the eyes while stroking my temple with a fingernail. “Tonight you will play two roles, Lane. You’ll take me, but Andreas will take you at the same time.”

I clench my teeth. A butt-fucking? Me?

Lowering my gaze, I tell Lisa, “Look, I can’t….”

She raises a finger to my lips, silencing me. “Ivan has prepared you for anal intercourse. You’ll find it pleasurable, and it’s a fine obedience exercise.”

I draw a breath. Don’t resist, Lane. She knows best. Do as she says.

I nod and tell her, “All right, then.”

Her vagina is tight. It grips my penis as I enter and I groan with pleasure. Behind me, Andreas lubricates my anus with a finger, getting me loose, working the digit in and out. I thrust my hips, but Lisa presses a hand to my chest.


She pulls my face to her shoulder and sucks my neck, giving me a hickey. While she’s doing this Andreas brings his erection to my anus. I inhale deeply while he applies pressure. (I’ve learned to do this when Ivan comes calling.) Andreas pierces my anal ring, and then he bores inside me. I exhale and draw another breath, this one through gritted teeth.

“Relax,” Lisa whispers. “You can fuck me now.”

I thrust my hips while, behind me, Andreas does the same. His erection plunges in and out, working my hole; it pokes my prostate when he’s fully inside me, and feels pretty good.

Lisa’s pussy is exquisite, flexing against my cock. Each time I thrust she groans. We establish a rhythm, she and I and Andreas, and the bedsprings creak with our movements. Lisa reaches behind me; she slaps my blistered bottom several times and I cry out. My pain mixes with the pleasure I derive from fucking Lisa, with a feeling of rectal fullness that Andreas’s erection imparts.

Yeah, sodomy’s humiliating—it’s a supreme act of submission for a straight guy like me—but I find myself reveling in my role as fuckboy.

Who’d have guessed?

Lisa knew I’m sure. I’ll bet she’s had this moment planned all along. She understands my need to obey, my love of surrender, and now the butt-reaming takes me to a level of service greater than any I’ve experienced to date. It is utterly degrading, yet delightful and I am grateful to my owners for their insight, for their generosity.

They know me better than I know myself.

I close my eyes and a tear leaks out as I thrust, while waves of pleasure course through my body. My buttocks boil and my cock throbs and my asshole burns like hell. I groan when my seed jets inside Lisa.

You did it, Lane, I tell myself. You’ve served them well.

You’ve earned yourself a home.

—The End—


All right, friends, I hope you enjoyed reading Serving Lisa as much as I enjoyed writing it. Have a nice Wednesday, everyone.

Third installment of “Serving Lisa”. Breezy day on the island ….

bdsm #7Hi, friends and readers:

Is everyone enjoying Serving Lisa so far? I know it’s not typical Delacroix fiction. For on thing our main character is straight (Well, sort of ….) And of course there’s the whole BDSM thing some people find too over-the-top. But hey, I can’t please everyone, and at least the story if free of charge. What a deal. 🙂

I woke around eight this morning, and after a quick breakfast I got busy working on edits for two books I have in process. The morning flew by. At eleven AM, I left the desk and went for a delightful three-mile walk.

It’s a beautiful day, here on the island. The sun is shining, a gentle breeze is blowing, and the temperature’s around 76 degrees F. I have a few projects to work on this afternoon, around the house. I need to thoroughly clean my car for an upcoming road trip, and I have some painting to do, so I will stay busy.

All right, everyone, here’s the third installment of Serving Lisa. Remember, if explicit scenes involving BDSM and/or sex between consenting adults bothers you, the you should not read Serving Lisa. 


Serving Lisa, copyright 2010, Martin Delacroix

On a Saturday, two days after my “interview”, I moved in with Lisa and Andreas.

Once I’d unpacked, Lisa took me to a leather shop in the gay district of town. She wore stilettos, a leather skirt that barely covered her ass, and a blouse showing lots of cleavage. At her instruction, I wore jeans, a tight t-shirt and a leather collar with stainless steel studs. I kept my chin low, terrified I might see someone I knew from school.

Inside the shop, a muscled man named Roland greeted Lisa. She introduced me and when I shook the guy’s hand his gaze slid over me like a clothes iron pressing a shirt. He wore a leather vest, leather pants and motorcycle boots. Tattoos covered his forearms and his head was shaved.

bdsm #10“Lane requires a discipline strap,” Lisa told Roland while I blushed and stared at my shoes. “Can you help us choose one?”

He led us to a wall where dozens of implements hung from hooks. He fingered several before lifting one and showing it to Lisa. The device was fashioned from black leather, probably two feet long, four inches wide, and a quarter-inch thick, with a handle at one end.

“It’s quite effective,” Roland said. Then he gestured at me. “Whip him bareassed and he’ll know who’s the boss.”

Lisa seized the strap, turning it this way and that, while her jaw worked from side to side. Then she asked Roland, “May I give it a try?”

A lump rose in my throat. Surely she won’t do this. Not here….

Roland said, “Of course you can,” and then he winked at me. After locking the front door, he led us to a workshop at the rear of the store. The space was lit by a fluorescent ceiling fixture and the whole room smelled of leather. The windows were opaque and fitted with crime bars. Roland leaned against a tool bench with his arms crossed before his chest while I trembled with fear. I fought an urge to bolt. How could Lisa do this to me?

She seized my forearm and placed me in the center of the room, turned so I faced Roland. I couldn’t look him in the eye I felt so ashamed. I kept my gaze fixed upon the floor while my chest rose and fell and dampness gathered in my armpits.

Lisa stood behind me and to the side. Clutching the strap, she tapped it against my ass.

“Drop your pants, Lane.”

My eyes watered and my voice quivered. “Please, ma’am. Not here.”

She placed a hand on my shoulder. “It’s for your benefit.”

A tear rolled down my cheek. I sniffled, then swallowed.

“Do as I say.”

I thought, Go on, punk: obey.

After unbuttoning my pants, I lowered the zipper and shucked the jeans to my ankles.

“Your briefs as well.”

My cheeks burned with shame. I stole a glance at Roland—he grinned like it was his birthday. My hands trembled when I slid my undies south. My cock had stiffened and now it bobbed before me, belying my protest and exposing my perverse needs to Roland.

Roland chuckled as Lisa flicked my penis with the tip of the strap. “My boy’s excited,” she said. “He knows what he likes.”

My heart raced and sweat beaded on my forehead.

“Grab your ankles, Lane.”

I did so.

“Chin up. Look at Roland.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Roland’s eyes glittered when my gaze met his. He licked one corner of his mouth with the tip of his tongue.

The strap hissed when Lisa swung; it seared my bottom like a blow torch when it struck, making a sound like a pistol shot. I yelped and nearly sank to my knees.

Jesus Christ, that hurt!

Another swat scorched my thighs, it made a popping sound that reverberated off the cinder block walls. I cried out and stamped my feet against the concrete floor.

“Chin up,” said Lisa. “Eyes on Roland.”

Roland grinned when I looked at him through teary eyes. “I think he likes it,” he told Lisa, making her laugh.

Another lick popped my buttocks, then another, setting my skin aflame. I shrieked through gritted teeth; I trembled like a kid in a spook house. The next blow caught me just above my knees. It stung badly and I bounced my heels, squealing in pain. Lisa must have enjoyed my reaction, as she whipped me twice more in the same spot, quick and devastating blows. I couldn’t help myself;  I sank to the floor and peed on myself, squirming and wailing like a three year-old.

“Get up,” Lisa barked. “On your feet at once.”

I rose while blubbering. My belly and thighs were damp with piss.

“Get back in place. We are not finished.”

I resumed the position, gripping my ankles and gazing at Roland while he grinned and shook his head at my misfortune.

Lisa tapped my buttocks with the strap. “You will receive three more, but I’ll increase the number if you move again. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She swung harder than before. All three licks struck my tender behind. I howled like a dog because my ass felt as though I’d sat on hot coals, but I stayed in place, fearing additional swats. When Lisa finally told me I could rise, I felt utterly debased. I whimpered and trembled and tears streamed down my cheeks. My legs were rubber.

She patted my bottom. “It’s hot to the touch,” she told Roland. “Very nice.”

A shop sink occupied one corner and I was permitted to clean myself, though my pants and briefs stayed at my ankles. I mopped the floor bare-bottomed while Roland and Lisa observed.

Roland asked Lisa, “Shall I carve his name into the strap?”

Lisa declined, and then I shivered when she told Roland, “Lane can do that himself. I know he’ll do a fine job.”

Once I’d finished mopping, Lisa allowed me to pull up my pants. I did so gingerly—my bottom was tender—but I felt relieved nonetheless. I was tired of Roland’s leering glances and I craved departure, but my joy turned to dread when we reached the crowded sidewalk. People were everywhere, toting shopping bags, pushing strollers, walking dogs, and traffic clogged the street. Roland had placed the strap inside a plastic sack, but Lisa discarded it and handed me the strap. She said, “Hold it before you, waist-high. Use both hands.”

I did so.

“Follow me, three paces behind.”

My cheeks burned as I trailed my mistress. Already, people were staring.

Lisa took her time walking to the car. Twice she stopped and studied merchandise in shop windows while I stood behind her, clutching the strap with my chin lowered and my hands trembling.

I heard a child’s voice. “That boy looks sad, Mommy. Why?”

I didn’t hear the mother’s response, but my predicament was certainly obvious. People passed on the sidewalk, looking first at me and my collar, then the strap, then Lisa. They exchanged glances while puckering their faces and shaking their heads. Two teenage boys giggled as they walked by and one told the other, “What a fag.”

Without warning my cock stiffened and my pulse accelerated. This public humiliation, combined with my burning bottom, fed a hunger I’d never before acknowledged, one that dwelt deep within me. I craved shame, I loved the derisive stares of passersby. A warm glow filled my breast and I felt an urge to masturbate, right there on the sidewalk.

Gazing at Lisa through teary eyes, I thought, thank you, mistress, for your kindness. You know exactly what I need.


Okay, friends, that all of Serving Lisa for today. I hope you’re having a nice Tuesday, wherever you might be today.

Second installment of “Serving Lisa”; beautiful day on the island ….

bdsm #9Hi, friends and readers:

How is everyone this morning? I attended a very pleasant Super Bowl gathering last night, just down the street. But I left at half-time because I was tired form this stupid head cold I cam down with last Tuesday. I hit the bed early and slept for almost eleven hours, and now I’m feeling almost 100%

It’s a beautiful day, here on the island: sunny, still, and about 75 degrees F. Since today is Monday I will visit the YMCA right after lunch to workout with weights and then swim laps in the indoor pool.

As promised, here is the second installment of Serving Lisa. Remember, folks, this story contains graphic descriptions of BDSM and consensual adult sexual acts. If you don’t like that sort of thing, then don’t read Serving Lisa. 


Serving Lisa, copyright Martin Delacroix 2010

Lisa rose, then took me by a forearm, leading me to a full-length mirror, a gilt-framed monster leaning against a wall. Sunlight entered through a window, reflecting in my pubic hair. Nearby, an umbrella stand held a gaggle of canes and switches. Lisa fingered several before choosing one that looked like a willow branch. After removing her jacket, she walked about the room, swinging the cane and making swishy sounds.

I watched her reflection in the mirror while my knees shook.

“Andreas,” she said, “will you assist?”

She had me bend at the waist and grab my ankles. Andreas stood at my side with his hand resting on my neck. “Raise your chin,” Lisa told me, “and do not lower it till we’ve finished. We’ll see how you react to proper discipline.”

I swallowed while staring at my reflection. “Yes, ma’am.”

She stepped behind me and a little to the side. Then she tapped the cane against my buttocks. A shiver coursed through me and I closed my eyes. It’s happening….

bdsm #6I heard a swish, and then the first blow landed. It stole my breath and nearly drove me to my knees, so badly did it sting. My eyes bugged and I cried out while my vision blurred.

Holy shit!

The second blow struck the underside of my buttocks, as vicious as the first. I yelped and attempted to rise, straining against Andreas’ grip, but he held me in place. Spots appeared before my eyes and my brain buzzed like I’d stuck my finger in a wall socket. A branding iron, drawn from glowing embers and pressed to my flesh, could not have hurt worse.

Several more blows followed in quick succession, some slicing across the backs of my thighs, others tormenting my ass, all of them stinging like hell. I howled with each lick, bouncing my heels and sweating till my skin glowed. I studied my face in the mirror; it was scarlet. I sucked air through clenched teeth while wincing at the pain.

Lisa paced behind me while tapping the switch against the palm of her hand. A smirk crossed her face.

“Having a good time, Lane?”

I groaned, but did not protest.

Lisa changed position, she whipped me backhanded, delivering fresh stripes of pain to my rump and thighs. My flesh was afire and I feared I might lose control of my bladder. I shrieked and whimpered like a child while tears coursed down my cheeks, but my suffering earned me no sympathy, no respite. The switch hissed time and again, and how I hated the sound.

As our session progressed, Andreas stroked my spine with his fingertips. He made shushing noises when I cried out. “There-there, Lane,” he whispered while the cane bit into my flesh.

I’ll admit I felt an urge to flee, to escape my torment, but I didn’t. I’d read the literature. If I wished to serve Lisa (and truly I did), I knew complete submission was expected.

You know, the penis does not lie. Mine remained stiff as a pool cue throughout the beating. Even as the switch flayed my skin, I knew Lisa’s ministrations were exactly what I’d longed for. Given time, I told myself, you’ll come to savor your punishments.

When the session ended and my weeping subsided, I stood before the mirror with my hands behind my neck, sniffling and shaking while Andreas rubbed salve into my welts. My buttocks were as raw as uncooked hamburger.

Lisa produced a tube of lubricant, slippery stuff she applied to my erection, spreading it about the shaft, and then coating the head, taking her time. Her touch was gentle and it sent chills up my spine. She kissed my sweaty cheek. “You did well, Lane; I’m impressed.” Then she glanced at Andreas. “Don’t you agree?”

He bobbed his chin while kneading my punished fanny.

Lisa wrapped her fingers about my penis, she pumped her hand and the lube smacked in the silent room. “I reward obedience,” she whispered while her breath swept my neck.

Things didn’t last long. Lisa’s ministrations and the pain in my backside were simply too delicious. My cock throbbed in her fingers, and then I splattered the mirror with gobs of come that oozed down the glass.

“Excellent,” said Lisa while flickering her eyebrows and admiring my seed.

Andreas smooched my shoulder.

“Good boy, Lane.”


All right, friends, that’s all of Serving Lisa for now. If you’re enjoying the story, send me a message saying so. And have a nice Monday, everyone.


The world of BDSM; free fiction for you from Martin ….

bdsm #5Hi, friends and readers:

Several years ago Noble Romance Publishing (now defunct) published a short fiction anthology titled Spank Me Once. My story, titled Serving Lisa, was included in the anthology, and it was a huge hit with readers.

It has been a while since I’ve posted a new piece of free fiction on this site, and so I’ve decided to post Serving Lisa in installments over the next few days. I’m giving my readers fair warning. This is not a story for the squeamish. If  descriptions of BDSM distrub you, or if you are offended by explicit descriptions of sexual encounters, then Serving Lisa is not for you. Having said that, here you are ….


Serving Lisa, copyright Martin Delacroix, 2010

I’m Lane, age nineteen. My owners are Lisa and Andreas; I met them on a website called Cruel Mistress toward the end of my freshman year at college.

This is a special day for me, my thirtieth and final day of training, and I’ve performed well I think. If my owners agree (Please, God, make it so.) then I’ll stay on; I’ll continue serving.

Right now I stand in a corner, alone in their bedroom. I’m naked and sweaty and my ass is freshly whipped. Downstairs, my owners discuss my fate. Will I stay or will I go?

I await their judgment.


Okay, let me explain.

I’m not a fag or a pussy-boy. During high school I lettered in two sports: wrestling and soccer. And while I’m not a big guy (five-ten, one hundred fifty-five pounds), I’m sinewy and quick and I don’t take shit off anyone. If you met me on the street you’d think I was tough—and I am—but I have this submissive streak, one I hide from people.

I crave discipline. I need a woman’s control.

bdsm #3My parents didn’t believe in corporal punishment, but I had a boyhood friend, Andy MacShane, who wasn’t so lucky. His mom was a tall, large-boned woman, and she was strict. If Andy came home late or got into trouble at school, she’d whip his ass with a belt. I got to watch once, when Andy and I were both twelve. I spent the night at Andy’s and Mrs. McShane caught us stealing cigarettes from her pack. Right there in the den she made Andy drop his pants and boxers. Then she bent him over a chair and lashed his bottom till it was red as a stop sign. She shoved blubbering Andy into a corner with his pants still down; then she turned to me and gestured with the belt. “Be glad you’re not my kid,” she declared, “or I’d roast your fanny too.”

Her remark gave me a raging erection. My cheeks burned and my heart galloped and I wanted to tell her, “Go ahead and do it. Pull down my pants and whip my butt so I can’t sit for a week.”

I dated girls in high school, of course, but I never told them about my peculiar tastes. Instead I haunted Internet sites, ones where folks posted pictures and stories featuring dominant females and groveling guys. I studied profiles on these sites—I even contacting a few women through them—but once they learned I was underage it was always, “Sayonara, kiddo.”

I became terribly frustrated. Would I ever find what I longed for? A woman who’d understand my needs? And assuming I did could I handle the discipline she’d choose to administer? Would my desire to serve trump my fear of pain? I pondered these questions, over and over, feeling lonely and sad.

Then I found Lisa and Andreas.

Meeting them was sheer luck. One night, I studied Cruel Mistress profiles when I came across this one:

Are you a young man who craves naked discipline? Attractive couple, early thirties, seeks a live-in slave to service the lady of the house. Serious inquiries only. One year commitment a must.

I sent a message with my photo attached. (“I’m Lane. We live in the same town. If you like what you see, please let me know.”)

Two days later, I received a reply:

“Lane, you’re a handsome boy. My name is Lisa. Attached is a photo of myself and my husband, Andreas. If you have further interest, tell us and we’ll schedule an interview.”

In their picture, Lisa wore knee boots, a leather skirt and a push-up corset. She held a riding crop and she wasn’t smiling. Her auburn hair grew past her shoulders, mascara adorned her dark eyes and her tits looked like D-cups.

I thought, Ma-ma.

Andreas was a head taller than his wife, broad-shouldered but slender. His black hair grew in curls; it covered the tops of his ears. He wore a dress shirt and slacks and he stood with his arms crossed at his chest and his chin elevated. Stubble dusted his chin and cheeks and he wasn’t smiling either.

Three days later, I stood on the doorstep of a Mediterranean-style dwelling, clutching a supermarket bouquet. Lisa answered the doorbell dressed in a wool suit, silk blouse, stockings and heels. She smelled like lemons and gardenia blossoms. Her grip was firm, her speech flavored with a German accent.

“Hello, Lane,” she said. “Welcome to our home.”

When she led me down a hallway her heels clicked against the tile floor. Her legs were long, tapering to slim ankles. We entered a room with a vaulted ceiling, stucco walls and a fireplace. Andreas rose from a sofa as a smile crossed his face. Dressed in slacks and a pullover shirt, he looked just like his picture. His voice was deep and he, too, spoke with an accent.

I shook his hand and accepted his offer of a soda.

“We are Berliners,” he told me while Lisa fetched my drink. “I’m on sabbatical from Humboldt University. Right now I teach courses at your school, in the College of Architecture.”

When Lisa returned, she took a seat by Andreas on the sofa.

“Your house is nice,” I said, glancing here and there.

Lisa said, “It belonged to a law professor who recently died. We are leasing.”

I wasn’t sure what to say next. Was small talk necessary?

Lisa resolved the issue.

“I want to see you naked, Lane. Will you remove your clothing?”

Her tone was blase, as though she’d asked me to pass the salt, but I felt blood rush to my cheeks. I glanced at the floor and gulped.

I’m supposed to strip? Right here?

When I looked at Andreas his face bore a serene expression. He raised his eyebrows and bobbed his chin. “Please do as she asks.”

I let out my breath and nodded. I removed my shoes and socks, then my shirt and pants. All the while my hands trembled. The room temperature was cool and it made me shiver. Standing in my boxer briefs, I looked at Andreas, then Lisa.

“How’s that?” I said.

A frown crossed Lisa’s face. “If you want to serve us, Lane, you must follow instructions to the letter.”

I nodded as I lowered my gaze and my cheeks blushed anew. My penis stiffened and I told myself, go on, give them what they want.

I peeled off my briefs and tossed them aside, and then my penis bobbed before me, as firm as a green banana. I faced Lisa and Andreas with my chin nearly touching my sternum and my face aflame.

“Look at me,” Lisa said.

I lifted my gaze.

“Why did you respond to our listing?”

Looking away, I rubbed my chin with a knuckle.

“Speak honestly, Lane.”

My voice cracked like a thirteen year-old’s. “I need a dominant woman, one who’ll give me discipline. I don’t know why.”

“You’re quite young. Have you experience in these matters?”

I told her no.

After Lisa turned to Andreas, she frowned and shook her head. In response, Andreas pursed his lips.

Lisa looked back at me. “We need someone who’s familiar with…service. Andreas is teaching and I’m in sales at Siemens. We have no time to train an untouched boy.”

Shit, speak up. Say something.

“I’m a fast learner, and I’ll do as I’m told.”

Lisa studied my face while rubbing the tip of her index finger against her thumb. She said, “Turn around and place your hands behind your neck.”

I did.

“Your buttocks are unmarked. Have you never been beaten?”

“No, ma’am, I haven’t.”

“You might not like it.”

I shifted my weight from one leg to the other. “I think I would.”

Behind me, sofa cushions creaked. Lisa told Andreas, “He’s nice-looking; perhaps we should give him a chance. A thirty-day trial?”

My scalp prickled.

Andreas said, “Why not?”


All right, folks, that’s the first installment of Serving Lisa. I will post another tomorrow, for your reading pleasure.

I’m attending a Super Bowl party at my neighbors’ home in just a couple of hours, but before that I’m taking a three-mile walk, here on the island. It’s a pretty day outside: sunny and still and about 74 degrees F, lovely winter weather for Florida.

Have a nice Sunday, all.