Welcome to Fantasies Revealed! I do so hope you enjoy your visit! Please, feel free to browse the list of tags (listed on the side bar) to find something you like. Also, I have recently added an index page (link to the right) of everything that is posted here. As of this moment, all comments are unmoderated; please keep a civil tongue and refrain from anything other than encouragement or professional criticism and the comments shall remain thus.

~Charisse

What's new?
Hearteater is officially considered "Out of Print". I have re-released the stories that were contained in that anthology back into the wild.Visit them now:

Another All Nighter | His Hunger Was Great | Love Me
Sanguine Sins | Summer Fling | Witchy Woman

What's to come?
- Who knows?? I have several reviews added to Amazon that I need to copy over to here. I'm trying to come to some semblance of life-work-stress balance. We'll see what comes of it. Just jump aboard and enjoy the ride, eh? :)

The Interview

I know it was just a dream, but it felt so real. The sights, the smells, your weight on me...
The setting was unusual; it was a multi-use community building. Why I was there is irrelevant, as is all the friends I know that were doing various tasks. Because you found me.

I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the floor. I had just swept a clean space, with dust, dirt, and animal fur billowing in clouds as I cleared it from the tile and carpet. I dropped down, holding conversation with a friend that supposedly now lived in Ukraine but was visiting. She spoke in mono-tone as she, too, swept and scrubbed her section of the floor.

Suddenly, I was flat on my belly with a warm weight over my back. I laughed, thinking you were someone else. I continued to work with my arms outstretched in front of me, finishing my train of thought with the friend.

You started kissing the back of my neck, my hair conveniently in a bun and out of your way. I don't remember the words you first spoke, but I was still distracted and did not register who was on me. I continued to giggle and and responded in a playful manner.

Then your voice lowered, your lips finding my ear, "So you are interested in playing or being played with? I'm interested in doing the playing."

A shiver ran down my spine and I wiggled underneath you, closing my eyes to the bright lights reflecting off the white tile floor of the community center.

"I always want to play with you," I responded, still not catching on that you were not the person I expected.

"Oh, I believe that. Such a willing little thing, aren't you?" Your mouth moved in a slow trail across my neck, back to its starting position at the top of my spine. "Tell me," you whispered between kisses, "Am I what you expected?"

My stomach hollowed and my entire body froze. Your lips kept up their languid soft kisses but realization struck me that you were YOU and not the man I expected.

A deep and primal growl echoed in your laugh. You enjoyed the blind encounter and how long it took for me to become aware of just who had me pinned.

"I...um..." I sputtered, squeezing my eyes closed, refusing to break the intimate spell by looking for confirmation.

"Such a sweet little thing, aren't you?" Kisses still accentuated your words, the sensitive zone at the top of my back working against any logical brain function. My body started moving under yours, again; my nipples straining at my bra as my hips tried to rise up to yours.

"Tell me," your voice took on a gravelly edge, "Have you ever explored beyond your basic submission? Are you curious to run until you are pinned," kiss, "just," kiss, "like," kiss, "this?" Teeth sank into the back of my neck and all I could do was moan.

My stomach tightened and my cleaning implements went forgotten as my hands found the edge of the carpeted rug and clenched, bunching the soft pile between my fingers. One of your arms moved, no longer bracing yourself above me. Your hand, large on my frame, skimmed down my side.

"That wasn't an answer," you growled before taking another bite.

Another moan escaped my lips, but with my next breath, I whispered, "Yes, Sir." But then my face flushed as I realized what I had said. "I mean, I..." I trailed off, trying to remember the question you asked and how to answer.

You just laughed.

"How long have you been in the lifestyle?"

Your voice is erotic on its own and I realized I longed to hear you call me 'My Pet'.

"Um, I," I tried to clear my throat, "about 10 years, off an on. And we should discuss honorifics." Breathless. I was blowing this whole interview, I just knew it. "I, um, will need to know what to call you."

A gentle tongue worked across my neck to my earlobe as you laughed again. "All in due time. You will be fun, I can tell."

Your hands, both of them, moved up along my body to my arms, then easily skirted to my wrists. Somehow you kept your body above mine without crushing me. I suddenly felt small compared to you and my belly fluttered.

Ever so slowly, you pulled my arms so that my palms faced upward and my hands rested on my back.

"I do like what I see. Here's a small reward. Feel me," you pressed my hands to your front. I gasped at finding firm muscle covered in thick hair. You were shirtless! My fingers traced outlines of abs, but the body hair melted me. I was unsure if you knew the cause of my lip biting, but I didn't care.

"You, I think, will be perfect." Your hips pressed down and...

"Oh!" My hands stilled on your stomach as my brain processed the hardness pressing into my ass.

"Sadly, I must go. But," like magic, you lifted me as you stood so contact was never broken between my hands and your skin. "I do think, we will talk again soon."

With my eyes still tightly shut, you walked me backwards as you made your way to the door. Once outside, you leaned down to my ear.

"Count to twenty before you open your eyes. Don't look for me. I'll be in touch."

And with that, a cold breeze took your place. I shivered at the loss of your body, but I could still feel you....

When I Can't Sleep

When the lights are out, the blankets are tucked up, the alarm is set, my hair is spread on the pillow, but my mind won't stop whirling, there is only one thing to do. Without you here to hold me, to make my body relax, I must tire myself out.

With a quick glance to make sure the door is actually locked, I wiggle deeper into the comfort of my bedding and slip my hand across my belly. Tonight should just be a quickie, so minimal physical foreplay is needed.

I close my eyes as my fingers brush along my clit. Mentally, I rearrange the room so I am home, with you, instead of this bland hotel space. In the fantasy realm, I am on top of our bedding, the soft over-blanket caressing my back. You climb onto the bed to join me, but instead of crawling up next to me, you hover over top of me. Your forearms brace your weight from beside my head, your hands gently stroking through my hair. Your warmth emanates and envelops me as you position yourself between my legs.

"Are you ready for me, kitten," your low timbre skates along my jaw as you trail kisses from one side of my neck to the other. A moan answers and you smile. Our lips meet as you thrust deep.

I arch up to meet your hips, the rhythm and pace you set relentless and fast. All I can think is how I need every inch of you and don't want you to pull away.

Your own sounds echo around me as you near your climax, building mine along with you.

"Please," I whimper, gripping your shoulders and holding on tight. That small beg is what sends you over. With one last grunt, you bury your face in my neck, biting and growling as your hips pin mine to the bed. Everything inside you spills out deep within me, sending me careening to my own release.

"Mine," you whisper as you begin pumping your hips again, sending me on to another orgasm. The world fades to black with me in your embrace.

When I wake, it is to the bright sun poking through the hotel curtains that I forgot to close the night before. The blankets have cocooned me into a human-sized burrito and drool has plastered the pillow to my cheek. As I sit and stretch, I can smell myself on my fingers. The downside to self-release until oblivion is the aftermath. A quick shower is in order before I can start my day. Only a few more nights on the road before I can see you again in person, but only a full work day of hours before I can hold you again in my mind....

The Escape Attempt

This is only a beginning...or a middle...of a larger story in my head. But it has been awhile since I have shared anything, I figured I would let this snippet see the light of day. Please enjoy!

Crunch-unch Crunch. 

Crunch-unch Crunch. 

Crunch-unch Crunch. 

Sophie's heart beat frantically as the limping steps drew closer to her. Each boot fall landed in the icy snow in a distinct pattern letting her know which guard tracked her. She knew she would never really escape but she had to try.

Crunch-unch Crunch. 

The frozen ground had offered Sophie a small head start without leaving a trail of footprints the night before. But she knew she wouldn't get far being barefoot.

Crunch-unch Crunch. 

There were plenty of foxholes and hollow trees and bushes on the property. But without more than her nightgown and a jacket she swiped from a closet, she knew she wouldn't survive on her own long.

Crunch-unch Crunch. 

She had huddled down where a fawn had pressed some bramble vines flat and slept fitfully overnight. When she woke, a soft layer of snow had accumulated.

Crunch-unch Crunch. 

Sophie knew if she left her hiding spot, she would be found quickly. Her only option, then, would be to stay where she was and hope to make a run the next night.

Crunch-unch Crunch. 

But the temperatures had to be near freezing, if not lower. Her safe haven may have helped shield her from the wind, but it would do nothing to keep her warm. Her fingers and toes were already numb.

Crunch-unch Crunch. 

The guard, a gruff burly man, appeared several yards away. He stopped between two trees and surveyed the brush. Sophie held her breath, afraid he would be able to see the cloud erupting from between her lips.

The man was close enough that Sophie could see his scowl when he yelled out, "I know you're out here. If you come on your own, I will make sure you are fed and warm before the master gets his hands on you."

Food. Sophie's stomach flipped at the thought of having something more than frozen water. When she ran, she had not stopped to think through grabbing anything to eat. Her only focus was on getting out of the house and as far away as possible.

Crunch-unch Crunch. 

The guard moved a few feet closer.

"What will it be, little one? A turkey sandwich with a bowl of soup? Or straight to the master?"

Crunch-unch Crunch. 

Sophie knew the punishment for an escape attempt. She would be chained and beaten. Food would be limited to a bare basic diet to keep her alive. She would be lucky to get rice and broth; Alice had told her about it when she first woke up in the cage. 

Crunch-unch Crunch. 

A shiver raced across her entire body. The cold had finally penetrated the cocoon she had made. Her teeth began to chatter.

Crunch-unch Crunch. 

"P-p-please?" she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut.

Crunch-unch Crunch. Crunch-unch Crunch. 

"Little one," the man growled, "come out."

Sophie opened her eyes to see the guard's boots just outside her hiding spot. She whimpered and begged once more, "P-p-please? Y-y-you p-p-promise food?"

"Only if I don't have to drag you out," he responded.

She looked up to find him staring right at her. Shaking, she uncurled her body, letting the giant jacket drag on the ground as she slowly crawled on her hands and knees out of the bramble. The ground cover had been flattened by animals but the bush itself still sported all the barbs and thorns on the vines. They bit into her jacket and grabbed her hair.

It seemed like an eternity before Sophie was free. She remained on the ground, her head lowered with her face inches from the guard's boots. Her body quaked from fear as much as the cold.

"Such a stupid thing to do, little one," the guard murmured. He bent down and scooped her into his arms. He cursed at how cold the skin of her face was against his neck. "Why would you do this to yourself?" He asked, though it was more to himself than directed at her.

"I-I w-would r-rather d-d-die," she stammered, "than b-be s-sold."

"You very nearly did," he returned as he tucked her tighter into his chest. Cursing, he stopped for a moment to unzip his own coat. She was tiny enough he could slide her against his chest and almost zip up his thick winter coat. It would offer his body warmth as well as the slight extra layer of fabric and feather. 

Crunch-unch Crunch. 

The guard slowly moved away from her hiding space.

Crunch-unch Crunch. 

Sophie could hear the steady beat of his heart. The combination of the new warmth, soothing heartbeat, and gentle sway of his gait was too much for her. 

Crunch-unch Crunch. 

Crunch-unch Crunch. 

She would likely die soon. But for now, she would soak up the comforts while she could.

Crunch-unch Crunch. 

She drifted off to sleep in his arms.

Shadows

I live with shadows.

Some would call them ghosts. Some would say they are demons. They, however, are just haunted by memories of the past – the history of their lives or the yesterdays of their homes. They creep up in the night, attack when the defenses are down, and linger for as long as they are fed.

My shadows are different. They stay just out of focus, right out of reach. I catch glimpses of them out of the corner of my eye when they get lazy or caught off guard in their stalking. They constantly watch and wait. My observers intrigue me.

Are they harmless or do they bear ill intent?

Are they the ones that bring tidings of nightmares or are they the ones that slay the sleep demons?

Are they the cause of my cold spells no blanket can break or the reason my body warms as if being caressed by a lover?

I have no answers, only questions. One thing I know for sure: If the Egyptians were right about cats being the gate keepers of the underworld, then I am glad I have two. The most important question of all, then, is whether the cats are truly protecting me or biding their time to unleash their shadow minions on me. Only time will tell.

A Lesson In Self Control

There really isn't a better place to be than on my back, shoved into the silk sheets while you are buried deep in me, one hand bracing your weight on the bed beside my head while the other wraps around my throat, pinning me down. As your fingers tighten with every thrust, my breath grows shallower and my hips buck up to meet yours. Your lips curve into a wicked smile as you brush them against mine, ever so briefly, before pulling away to stare into my eyes. I'm close. So close.

"No," you growl, deeply guttural. Shock-waves pulse from my ears down my chest, sparking out to my nipples before continuing on to my belly and further. Invisible fingers clamp on my clit as I grip your cock tighter, my orgasm riding just beneath the surface.

I whimper, unable to gain breath enough to beg please.

A single drop of sweat drips down your nose to my forehead and my eyes begin to roll back into my head. Your hand grips harder with each word, "I. Said. NO." But it is too late.

My heels dig in to your ass, stiletto tips pressing divots into your skin, as my fingernails scrape down your biceps. A scream tears from my throat as ecstasy takes hold and I cum hard, the pressure too much to contain any longer. I come undone beneath you, all control lost to the pleasure you've perfectly crafted over the last hour.

With one final curse from your mouth, you crush your lips to mine as you pump harder, giving me your release.

Feeling your cock spasm and burst deep within me triggers a second wave of pleasure and I'm a mess beneath you, sobbing and pleading for you to never let me go.

You kiss along my neck, your hand no longer stealing my breath, and I just float in your embrace. This is heaven and I never want to leave the warmth you have created.

"I'm never letting you go," you mumble in my ear as you begin to roll your hips, growing hard once again. "You disobeyed me, Little One," you growl. I'm too far gone to catch the warning in your voice. My hips rock with yours as I moan, relishing your weight above me.

Tonight's lesson in self control will need to be repeated again tomorrow night. I can't wait.

Old Habits

My keys jangled as I reached for my apartment door and I cursed when the lock held no resistance with the key turn. I had left my apartment unsecured yet again. How many times would I push my luck before I came home from work to find my place ransacked? I mentally chastised myself as I fell back against the door, closing the world out behind me. I dropped my purse on the little catch-all table but left the lights off when I slid my keys onto the hook next to the switch. The quiet darkness was comforting after the bloody nightmare of working the emergency room under the harsh bright fluorescence bulbs.

I barely took two steps toward the bedroom before I realized I was not alone. He did not make a sound, but I felt him watching me and I froze. From the corner of my eye I saw a shadowy figure move to turn on the side table lamp. I turned to see a naked man sitting on my couch. A handsome, dangerous man. A man I knew and feared. A man I swore I would never see again.

"What...what are you doing here?" I whispered, my mouth completely dry. I wanted to take a step back, but my feet would not move. "What do you want?"

"I want you to show me," his blue eyes burned bright, the intensity behind them reminiscent of a predator with cornered prey.

"Sh-show you?" I stammered, taking a deep breath, the instinct to run hammering my heart in my chest.

"Show me," his hands shifted in his lap and I cringed. My ex sat there with his clothes folded neatly beside the lamp, his cock standing proud, stiff, and large. His deep voice echoed through my head as he continued, "Show me what you think I missed out on when I let you go. Show me what you've learned since you escaped to greener pastures. Show me that you're not all talk."

I stared at his dick, thicker and longer than I remembered. I wondered if it was just as rock hard as it looked, if it was just as tasty as my mouth recalled. I licked my lips and managed to finally take a step back. "You need to leave," my voice sounded stronger, but still registered at a whisper, as I pulled my eyes away and looked him in the face; it was more of a difficult struggle than I would care to admit.

That damn smile that always melted me quirked his mouth. My heart fluttered. "Scared that I know the truth? That you aren't as good as you claim? That you are still as terrible as when we were together?"

"No, I..." he twitched his muscles, the muscles that forced his cock to wave at me. I felt like a cat being teased with a dangling toy. I gulped and took another step back. Fear gripped my stomach - or was that arousal? Both. But not fear that I would fail to prove that I was better now than I was then; no, it was fear that I would give in. Fear that I would not be able to escape him again. He was my ex for a reason.

"Well?" His hardened flesh bobbed again. I whimpered. "There's my girl, still hiding in there, after all! She should come out and play, don't you think?" I swallowed down a hard lump in my throat and tried to shake my head. His voice had dropped an entire octave, to that musically commanding sound that pulled me apart little by little. "Come here." I was helpless against that voice and he knew it.

"Y-Yes, Sir," I quietly submitted as I lowered my head, dropped to my knees, and scuttled forward like an animal. How easily I slipped back into the role of his pet scared me, but I had no control when that voice commanded. Shame flooded my system, flushing my skin, and soaking my panties. I thought I had locked this part of me away when I escaped. I was wrong.

He growled, "That's a good girl. Come and show me what you think I'm missing. Prove to me you can suck a cock like a good little slut."

I kept my eyes down, focused on the dick in front of my face. Every word was a lie, we both knew it. His favorite pastime was telling me I was worthless and useless as a cocksucker, nothing better than a wet cunt to fuck; I had spent my time on my knees doing what I could to make him say otherwise, fighting for even one single line of praise. In the five years we were together, I never once heard "good girl" in response to my lips wrapped around his cock. Why I thought this time would be different, I had no clue. I just knew that the desire to please him consumed me once more. I wanted to hear those two words. This time would be different. It had to be.

More than that, I wanted his cock down my throat.

I licked my lips and stared at the twitching dick less than a foot away. I knelt between his knees, my hands clutching the edge of the couch, mesmerized. 

"Don't hesitate now, my pet. You've had your freedom. Show me what you've learned," he growled.

My breath quickened and my chest heaved. I swallowed, trying to moisten my dry throat. With a soft whimper escaping my mouth, I leaned forward and took the tip of his cock between my lips and sank my head into his lap.

Please, I mentally begged, just this once....

The Letter

To My Dom,

I've been trying so hard to be a Good Girl and not beg and not tell you how badly I need you. I've been in a mood and all I can think about is your hand wrapping my throat as you reaffirm your ownership; your arms on either side of my head, pinning me to the wall; your body standing over me as you throw me onto the bed; your growling commands in my ear telling me not to cum; your fingers digging deep within me, taunting me. I even dream of your teeth biting into my skin. All of this and more...in whatever order or combination you choose. As worked up as I have been and am, I know I won't be able to obey your order to not cum without permission. I'll fail spectacularly, doing everything possible to at least remain quiet like you prefer. I can even feel my wrists held tightly over my head with my back against the bed or wall or floor - wherever you desire to place me. In my head, I'm doing my best to please you so that I can have your hands on me more. I am trying my hardest to not beg you to make all this reality soon. I know it is not my place to seek pleasure, but instead yours to give as you see fit; my reward for being a Good Girl.

It's ridiculously insane how being told I'm just a fucktoy, existing only for your pleasure, turns me on. It's honestly crazy. But I love it. I look forward to being on my knees in front of you again.

xoxo
Your Sub

Sean knew the neatly folded letter he'd found under the bed while cleaning the bedroom wasn't meant for his eyes, even though it was written in his wife's unmistakable handwriting. Though he could be dominant over Cassie at times, he wasn't her Dom. No, her Dom was a guy her own age, more than a decade younger than Sean, someone she had been seeing off and on for more than a year now.

Cassie was with her Dom that moment, probably on her knees with the other man's cock as far down her throat as she could manage. Closing his eyes, Sean took a deep breath, willing his sudden erection to go away. He could take a break from cleaning to jerk off, but it would do no good. It would only be a temporary relief. Not to mention, it would take away from his promise to his wife - part of their agreement was that she would bring home pictures and video for him to enjoy while she dropped to her knees for him.

With a soft curse thrown out to the empty house, Sean grabbed his phone and sat in the oversized, overstuffed chair in the corner of the bedroom. He pulled up the folder he kept of Cassie's previous encounters with her Dom and decided tonight would be a night to focus solely on Cassie's pleasure when she returned. This afternoon, his need to get off was far greater than he ever expected it could be when thinking about his favorite little porn star wife off enjoying an afternoon with another man.

Pretty Lies

Author: Kitty Thomas Publisher: Burlesque Press ASIN: B07CHBF9SZ Published: 04/23/2018 Pages: 220 Words: 76,770 Formats: Adobe PDF, MobiPocket, ePUB, RTF, LRF, Palm Doc PDB, and TXT Price: $4.95 CLICK TO PURCHASE

!This book contains Kidnapping, Coercion, Group Sex, Public Sex, and Rough Sex.


What’s wrong with a little white lie or two when flirting at the bar? For compulsive liar Annette Waincott and her twin Janette, the consequences for a single drunken night is life altering. A cruel twist of fate puts Janette in Anton Volikov’s path and he mistakes her for Annette and kidnaps her – in what he thought was a play discussed the night before between him and Annette. He takes her to his mansion and holds her captive until Annette trades herself for her sister and becomes the first trainee in the newly established Pleasure House. Pretty Lies goes all the way back to the beginning of the world created in Guilty Pleasures and provides the backstory for some of the House staff as well as the establishment of the training house for submissives. Anton wakes up Annette’s desire to please him and she steals his heart, but events unfold between the trainers and the girls in the house that could destroy everything. This trip back in time is a treat for anyone that has read the other books set in the Pleasure House world (Guilty Pleasures, Broken Dolls, and Surrender), but, just like the others, it stands alone on its own and the others are not required to get satisfaction from the story. As with all of Kitty Thomas’ books, this is for the mature readers due to its dark erotic tones and themes, though it is more toned down compared to Kitty’s other works in the same world. From start to finish, I devoured this book in a day because I could not put it down.

~ As submitted to Shmashwords.com & Amazon.com

Behind Closed Doors (pt 2)

Saturday morning sunlight filtered through the bedroom window, the delicate light first illuminating an empty bed, then a couple entwined in a loving embrace on the plush carpet. June stirred at the incessant prodding of the orange glow and gently disentangled herself from her husband. She sat and stretched and watched Russel sleep for a few minutes before she stood and picked up hastily discarded and, to her dismay, ripped clothing. She frowned as she tossed the brand new shirt in the waste basket on her way to the shower.

The spray of water stung as it struck tender new carpet burns, but the heat dissipated the pain to a mere discomfort. After she was clean, June stood under the water and stared at the slate wall. The usually warm combination of muted green tones and the golden veins were instead lost in the cold grey stone. A chill flittered across June's skin as she thought back to the day it was chosen.

The sales clerk at the local Floor & Tile Warehouse had left the couple standing in the aisle to place the Garret's entire remodel order for delivery, so no one was near to see him pull her close against his hips and slip one hand around her body and into the front waistband of her skirt. There were no witnesses as he slipped his fingers past the soft curls between her legs and gently entered her wet and ready pussy.

"This, my sweet," his gruff voice fell to her ear, "to whom does it belong?"

Working to control her breathing, June whispered her reply, "You, Sir."

"Good girl," Russel kissed her neck as he increased the pressure from his hand. June began to whimper.  "Quietly," he chided; June clenched her jaw. Her orgasm was short but still turned her legs limp. Russel chuckled into her ear, "I love that almost as much as I love you, my Pet." He held her upright for a few moments until she could stand again, and then removed his hand. She was slightly unsteady, but leaned against her husband in what she hoped would look like a normal embrace.

Russel hugged her close with one arm and reached up to run his wetted fingers across her lips. June smiled and licked him clean. He then pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear before pulling a simple brown envelope from his pocket. It had been folded and creased neatly to fit, unnoticed, next to the pen at his breast.

"I think it is time to give you your gift. Happy anniversary, my Pet."

June was confused. Russel had led her to believe the house remodel was her gift: the larger bathroom with its custom shower, the new guest bedroom add-on, the old guest bedroom to craft-space conversion, and the new bedroom balcony.... She gingerly took the envelope and carefully unfolded it. Inside was a single sheet of paper: a folded drawing. It was a scaled down version of the plans for the upstairs guest bedroom conversion, but it was different than what the contractor had on display. She stared at it, trying to make sense of what was different.

Tears filled her eyes as she realized what it was, and they seeped into her voice when she looked up at her husband, "Oh, Sir! Do you mean it?" 

"Yes, my Pet." The plans for the new nursery crumpled between them as he hugged her tight.

June dried her tears with the bath towel. She looked at her reflection in the steam streaked mirror. With sunken eyes and slumped shoulders, she looked defeated and older than her thirty years.

"There's no point in crying," she scolded herself, "There are other options. We can still do this." Her hands drifted down to her stomach and an ache filled her chest. "Well, it may not everything we wanted, but we can't give up." One final tear fell down her cheek, and then she squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. Her internal pep-talk would have to do for now. She still had a house to keep tidy and a husband to please.

Ensalada Fresca

This is the result of a "check all the boxes" assignment in a Contemporary Pop Culture in Modern Poetry course I took to fulfill an English Arts elective. I did exactly that and got my 100% grade. I haven't yet decided how I want to edit this - or if I just want to leave it as clunky as it is. Either way, it was too fun not to share with the world.


A man's most prized appendage is a turtle head.
Cowled and collapsed at rest, snuggled in skin sleeping soundly,
visions of shelled dreams dance behind drooped lids.
Upon waking, a ravenous hunger takes hold, and with
tiny peanut brain, takes control of the entire male being.
Perked up, neck stretched straight and stiff,
it leads and guides, a divining rod for satisfaction,
bobbing and weaving, drunkenly staggering, to and fro,
finally fixating on the intoxicating sweet crisp scent of velvet greenery.
Cloying honey drenched tongue's memory,
Drool drips in anticipation,
                                        I licked it, so it's mine!
Echoing sound waves of Lyn's favorite statement surface
(she will get to say it next time, he promises)
and vibrate like a shiver over flesh, amplifying
appetite cravings to that of Thespiae's Colossal Eros.
Parting the leaves, the turtle burrows into the penetralia of the lettuce
seeking the treasure trove of heart, deep within the primal core.
Guttural grunts mingle with passionate moans as pleasure, mounts.
Falling, face first, into a dish, like creamed pie, has never been so grand!
The turtle's Adam's apple pulses, with desire, sated. Fed and full,
chin rests on pillow as slumber takes hold.

The Broken

Though I had been living on my own for two years, enjoying a life of debauchery and sin, I did so as a broken man, estranged and separated from my wife. The day she became my legal ex is a black blur in my mind, even today: many years, two children, and a grandchild later. The day after, however, I remember in perfect clarity, as if it were just yesterday. That was the day I met Nikki.

The ink on the divorce papers was still wet when I let Nikki into my apartment. Still drunk and buzzing from the night before, I was ready to lose myself in another one night stand, certain the woman in front of me was just another online whore preying on a newly single, bitter, blogger.

She matched her profile fairly well, proving to be exactly the five-foot brunette described, and radiating that 'college girl with daddy issues' vibe. Nikki claimed to be just a fellow blogger wanting to check up on me; from my experiences, I knew that to be just a cover story. The night would see her sucking my cock, getting impaled on my dick, and then disappearing forever. Tomorrow night would be the same tale with a different fair maiden. That was my personal history since the separation, repeating itself nightly.

"Welcome to Castle Lannister," I greeted her; she claimed to be well read and my reference to a decently obscure novel did not go unnoticed. I earned a smile from her glossy lips.

"I do hope you don't intend to role-play with me as your sister, ever," she quipped as she followed my gesture and walked in.

"Only if you want to," I said as I shut the door, doing my best to ignore the noise from the dozens of kids running wild in the apartment commons. The brats' squealing and screaming were grating on my nerves and drawing out the beginnings of a headache that I had hoped would wait until after my disposable fuck-toy had left.

I turned to see her place her purse on the coffee table, her perfectly round ass pushed upward as she bent forward. My cock stirred and began to wake.

Not wanting to be accused of being inhospitable, I took a step toward her, "Can I offer you a drink?"

"If you have it, a Coke would be nice. If not, water's fine," she replied as she  surveyed the tiny, cramped space. I lived in a single bedroom apartment, barely larger than an efficiency, with furniture hobbled together from garage sales and the discount warehouse across the highway; for a crazy moment, I almost apologized for my throw together decor.

"Coke it is. Have a seat, make yourself at home," I carefully made my way around the little living area to to the kitchen. It was barely big enough to house the stove, sink, and fridge, the latter of which was pretty bare of anything but takeout leftovers and the essentials: beer, Coke, ketchup, and cream cheese for the bagels on top of the fridge.

I opened the red aluminum can as I handed it to her and took a seat next to her on the ratty couch. The sleeper sofa had seen better days, none of them with me.

Nikki took a sip of the soda, then turned toward me. She brought a leg up on to the cushion, resting her drink in her lap while leaning an arm on the back of the couch. "So, Joe, how are you doing? You look like you partied hard last night."

I grimaced, "Call me Mark; Joe's just the alter ego I let loose on the internet. It was quite the pity party last night, and I'm sure my liver will be killing me soon as payback."

Nikki smiled a sad smile, the one no man likes to see - even when it leads to pity sex. "I figured 'JustJoeBlow95' was an alias. I wish I could have stopped by last night; it sounds like you could have used a friend."

"Oh, I had plenty of friends," I joked, "Jack and Jose's much cheaper cousins left quite a mess."

She rolled her eyes, "Well, Mark, you seem to have survived, which is good." She took another sip out of the can, "I just hope you are able to keep up with me, tonight. I mean, with you being so hung over and all."

I let loose the biggest debonair grin I could, "A little headache never killed anyone. Besides, there is a natural cure for such things." I winked.

From behind the cutest blush I had ever seen, Nikki responded, "I'm sure something can be done to help you out. I just want to give you fair warning, don't expect a lot from me; I'm no expert at anything."

While I didn't doubt her - she was young, after all - I figured she was being a bit modest. Nikki's blog, Nikki's Locks & Licks, detailed her sex life, which had, up until a month prior, been with her three year, college sweetheart boyfriend. She had described their encounters, her submissive nature, and their breakup. Since then, she claimed, she wrote out merely fantasies, cataloging what she would want in a man. I felt pleased to know that I fit many of those criteria.

"Surely there is something you are good at; you can't be all the klutz and technique void wench Whats-His-Nuts claims." My sincerity was lost in my laugh, "I'm sure that gorgeous mouth of yours is phenomenal."

My chest hurt at her reply: her eyes downcast and a disappointed look took over her face, "That is the one thing I absolutely suck at, no pun intended."

Never before had such a look tugged at me the way it did that night. The ache in my chest was just the beginning; the pain fell heavy down into my stomach and then into my groin. My cock woke fully, straining in my jeans. She looked absolutely beautiful and weak. I tried to ignore it, knowing it was wrong to push and explore the validity of her claim, knowing I could break the young woman before me if she was honest and I wasn't careful. After following her blog for awhile, however, the thought occurred that she could be playing coy to draw me in. The lingering alcohol in my blood wanted to force her head into my lap and test her right there.

My voice betrayed my inner struggle, "I'm sure he didn't know what he was talking about; most boys don't grow up until long after college." I spoke from experience with that fact; true maturity and sexual maturity were two different things and one did not necessarily mean the other was imminent.

Nikki's lips upturned in a shy, weak smile, "If you want, I can prove to you how bad I am. But you have to promise to not get mad."

"Mad? I will only get upset if you aren't trying."

"I will do the best I can," she said as she slipped off the couch. In one single motion, she placed her soda can on the coffee table and rested on her knees in front of me. Her eyes locked on mine as her hands moved to my belt, "Do you want this here, or in the recliner?"

Seeing the young woman on her knees, eager to please me, brought forth a growl as my inner voice screamed 'MINE!'. "Here would be fine, but," Nikki flinched minutely; again, my chest clenched, "I have a chair specifically for this in the bedroom." I grabbed her hands and helped her stand, then led her down a short, narrow hallway, past the kitchenette, to the bedroom, my throbbing cock pointing the way.

One of my random garage-sale finds was an old, low seated wingback recliner from the 1970s. It was upholstered in a soft, faux-suede that felt like velvet after so many years. It had been dubbed 'the blow job chair' because the low seating was just the right height and angled perfectly for optimal cock sucking and the well used cushion was a luxurious cloud consistency for any man to relax in.

"Here," I sat into the recliner and helped Nikki to her knees, "This is better." I lifted her chin to look in her face, "Don't do anything different. I want your best, but I want you. If I want you to change something, I will tell you. Understand?" She nodded. "That's not a clear answer. Where has your voice gone?" My slight stern tone surprised me.

She cleared her throat, "Yes, I understand," there was a tiny hesitation before she finished, "Sir."

I had never been called 'Sir' before. My cock twitched at the title. Something about the little minx in front of me was troubling me; no woman had ever pulled so much from me with so little. I mentally shook myself and relaxed into the chair, drawing her hands to my erect, trapped dick.

Tentatively, her fingers traced the outline of my hardness through my jeans. I watched as she bit her lower lip, but I could not say if it was in concentration or due to nerves; I can say it was cute on her. As her fingers reached the tip of my erection, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her breasts stretched her shirt, the rhinestone letters glittering in the dying light of the sunset peeking through the cheap plastic shades. The woman had not even begun and I suddenly feared an early ending - I was far from a teenage boy, but Nikki was sending me into a tailspin.

Her hands took hold of my belt and I had a moment of reprieve. The black leather slowly inched out of the gold buckle, then her fingers fumbled with the button of my jeans.

"Here, let me get that," I said as I brushed her hands aside. Most women smile appreciatively, but not Nikki. No, she gained a look of disappointment, like she had already failed me. I hated that look and a fire lit inside my chest; had that ex-boyfriend of hers already broken her? I wanted to hunt him down and beat his ass.

I squashed that sudden notion. I barely knew the woman in front of me, and, besides, I was no shining knight to defend the honor of any woman.

I unzipped my jeans, carefully adjusting my stiff cock as I did to let it out of my boxers. There would be no need to undress further until I had Nikki bare to the world first. I guided her hands to my exposed cock and watched her eyes take in what I had to offer. I knew I was not the biggest stud in the stable, but I held my own when it came time to compare qualities. Her mouth quirked into a faint smile before she licked her lips and lowered her head to my lap. Her hands wrapped around me first while her tongue darted out to lap at the tip, reminiscent of a kitten stealing a single taste of cream. Then there was another, longer lick, that started where her hands ended and brushed all the way up. Her hands never moved up, they remained locked around the base of my cock, her fingers intertwined, pulsing. She gently squeezed in time with her licks, the sensation of which felt amazing.

The tempo she kept with her fingers never changed. Her tongue drew circles around the head of my cock before she finally locked her lips around me. Her mouth was bliss. She worked agonizingly slow, lowering her head and removing single fingers from her grip with each dip down, replacing them again with each lift of her mouth. Her lips never lost contact with my dick, but as she fell halfway down my shaft, she removed her left hand and lightly scratched down my thigh with the tip of her long, manicured nails. I grabbed the arm of the chair, my knuckles white with my effort to not push her as far down as she could go. Her hand moved in time with her head, down to my knee and up to tickle my balls, reaching them just as her lips locked around the base of my cock. The pulsing of her fingers around my hard member was replaced by a warm, soft stroke of her tongue that spanned my entire length, with the head of my cock lost in her throat. The sensations of her deep-throating me, her nails dancing on my balls and tracing my thigh were overwhelming.

In a breathless moment, I gripped her hair and yanked her back, pulling my dick out of her mouth with a delicious 'pop' - noting as I did so that her teeth never once grated my skin. Expert skill, she had.

"You are a fucking liar," I growled, my passionate outburst surprising me; I had intended to stroke her hair and praise her, not roughly pull her off me to lean in for a kiss. The kiss never happened, though. Through my half-lidded eyes, I saw her terror, raw and painted pale across her face, and I froze.

I relaxed my grip, confused; part of me wanted to pin her beneath me on the carpet and fuck her brains out, claiming her on a very basic level as mine, while another wanted to take back my outburst, apologize, and pull her in to shield her from the world. I knew in that instant that she had not been playing me; the fear was too real.

"I...b-but..." Nikki squeaked.

"Hush," I shushed her as I drew my hand through her hair and down her cheek, resting my thumb on her plump lips. Her skin was soft and warm. Her lips, swollen from sucking my cock, held my gaze. They were mesmerizing. Her breath was hot on my finger. Focused on that one part of her, I whispered to her, "You are not a 'talentless bitch'."

Nikki tried to speak, but I would have no protests. I slipped the tip of my thumb past her open lips and rubbed her tongue.

"What you did," I continued, "was absolutely phenomenal." She started to suckle my finger, her tongue dancing under it just like she had done to my cock. "Yes, that," I moaned, "is what you do so well." I leaned down, pulled my hand away, and closed the distance between our mouths. Her lipgloss had smeared off onto my cock, but the taste of sugary watermelon remained.

The sweet taste went to my head and I found myself wanting more. I pressed further, opening my mouth wider, wanting to devour her. I caught her lips in my teeth and nipped at her flesh. It wasn't enough.

I pulled back and growled, "Stand up." Nikki stood quickly, her hair disheveled from my hand and her face flushed from the kiss. I remained leaned forward in the chair, and, with Nikki on her feet, her waist was nearly level with my head. I could smell how wet she was. It was a sweet smell. I wondered if she tasted as delicious as that scent implied.

I reached out and grabbed her around the waist and tossed her back onto the bed as I stood up out of the chair. She was light enough that it was no strain. I kicked off my shoes as I moved the few feet to the bed and dropped out of my pants, my boxers falling with the jeans. At the edge of the bed, I yanked her skirt down over her heels, and pulled her legs wide. She wore no panties, no thin strip of cloth, nothing. Aside from a very trimmed and playful patch of hair, she was shaved clean. She was drenched and glistening. Nikki just stared, confusion and arousal warring for control of her face.

"You are beautiful," I said, and I meant it, as I, none to gracefully, dropped to my knees and slid her open pussy toward me. The comforter bunched around her, but I didn't care. I wrapped my arms under her thighs and lifted her ass above the blanket, off the bed, bringing that sweet smell to my mouth. I buried my face between her legs, drinking down her juices like a thirst-crazed man. My tongue sank as deep as it would go in her pussy; she tasted like honey and I wanted every drop I could get. Like her kiss, I needed more. I held firm, digging my fingers into her legs, and pressed deeper. Nikki's flesh filled my my hands as she squirmed and her moans began escaping into the room. It was a heavenly sound. Basic logic dictated that if I wanted more of that sound, I should keep doing what I was doing, but I knew that wouldn't be enough. I shifted my grasp, lowered her a little, and brought my mouth down on her clit. The moment I made contact, she screamed, arched up off the bed, and drenched my chin.

That was when I dropped her, gently, and climbed up beside her. I propped myself on my elbow and watched Nikki float in ecstasy. She was a curiosity; she was young, naive, and convinced she wasn't worth a damn in bed. She was also making me want to show her how wrong she was, fold her in my arms and never let her go. She dragged forth a possessive quality I had never known existed within me.

Her haze-clouded eyes locked on mine, "That was spectacular." She sounded drunk, drawing out the words and slurring them together. I smiled, knowing I had done that to her. "C'mere," she reached up and pulled at my shirt - somehow we were both still wearing the pesky things - and her soft lips locked on mine. This time she made the kiss sloppy, exploring my mouth, my lips, my stubbled cheeks, and my chin. It caught me off guard when I realized what she was up to and I laughed.

"Do I taste good?"

"Mhmm," she continued, lapping her own juices off my face. Her eyes danced playfully when she backed away, "You didn't think I would leave you to get sticky face, did you? Besides," she giggled, "you gotta admit, I am the one that tastes good."

I couldn't argue with that, so I didn't try. I actually found myself at a loss for words staring in her eyes. For the first time in years, I felt content, happy, and like everything was right in the world.

"Mark..." Nikki's whisper broke through to me. Her eyes faded to a haunted, sad look. "Mark, why didn't you fuck me?"

"Because," I traced a finger down her face, "You don't deserve to be fucked," I grabbed her chin and kept her from looking away, "you deserve to be loved." I lowered and kissed her, silencing a protest I was sure would follow her gasp. As Nikki relaxed into the kiss, I spread my fingers over her cheek and down to the back of her neck, pulling her as close as I could. Her arching back pressed her breasts into my chest, and I could tell there was no bra between us - just the damn shirts.

Foreplay

He slapped my ass.

"Please, what?"

The burning hand print stopped my squirming, but the growl sent shivers of anticipation down my spine. He would give me what I wanted, but I had to say it loud enough for him to hear.

I moaned, "Please fuck me!"

My head jerked back, my hair now wrapped in his hand, "Please fuck me, what?"

He did the eyebrow quirk. He knew my buttons. He was pushing them deliberately. I couldn't help myself, I started to hump the little space between our bodies.

"Sir. Please fuck me, Sir!"

His hand twisted, "No, not Sir."

I gasped. Tonight wasn't about me and my desires. It was his.

I mewled between breaths; my heartbeat was loud in my ears, my own need screaming.

I didn't wait for him to ask again. I needed his cock buried deep in me and he needed me to say the magic words.

"Fuck me, please...Daddy!"

He smiled his heart-melting smile, "Now that? That I can do." It was more than my heart reduced to liquid; my pussy contracted and a new flood washed down my thighs. I was so close....

Self Abuse

It was a quick and dirty fuck, something she was slowly getting used to. She'd never get used to the feeling of being used, though. It was amazing how five minutes could turn a brazen, horny, self-assured woman to a ball of self-hatred. She was disgusted with herself.

She stood by the sink and stared at her fingers. The nails were perfectly manicured, but that didn't matter now. They were soiled, sullied by her own sexual juices. There once was a time that a quick orgasm by her own hand was a thing of pride. Now? Now it was a sign of shame. Her marriage was failing. Or so it felt. He turned away at her advances, ignored her flirtations, and seemed to avoid her at all cost. She was left alone, worked up, and in need of attentions.

She did the only thing she could think to do: prowl around for a quick fuck. She was too faithful to seek a man in a bar, but she wasn't above pretending. When her husband's lack of attention ate away at her, she'd lay in bed and visit that smoke filled establishment. Some random guy, always scruffy bearded and barely human (and never clean), would lead her off to the alley behind the bar. Her fingers worked vigorously to the beat of his cock impaling her against the crumbling brick. He would inevitably leave her slumped, used, and physically drained, by the dumpster. Even her mind registered the end result of her dalliances. She was nothing but trash now; not even her husband wanted to touch her, so why should she?

#EroticonUSA #WordDiscipline The Birthday Surprise

Listen. Close your mouth and open your ears. Embrace the darkness of the blindfold. Ignore the thudding of your heart. Just listen.

Are those steps? Footfalls of one...no, two people. Heavy. Men.

There is a swishing. Cloth folding around itself. A curtain or a sheet? I can't tell. Soft currents of air flow over naked skin as the sound fades.

The crackling of a zipper echoes dully in the room. There are more following.

Listening is the hardest part of life. But with practice, you can hone the skill.

#EroticonUSA - Meet & Greet

Better late than never, right? If you are attending, I hope to see you in Atlanta!

Eroticon USA meet and greet round up.

Name: Charisse Lyn

Twitter id: @pillow_talker

Where in the world are you? Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex, Texas, USA

What brings you to Eroticon?
If I claim "The novelty of it", would you believe me? I am interested in meeting (in person) a lot of people I have followed and met online. Writing, for me, is a hobby and a personal release, but my husband would like for me to use it for spending money. Eroticon, then, becomes a learning experience as well as a hope for personal development.

What are you looking forward to most about Eroticon USA?
Um, meeting my twitter idols, duh! ;P

Seriously? Well, I'm curious about that photography session...

If you had to make up a pen name again what would it be?
Why do you have to ask such hard questions?! I am rather fond of "older generational" names. I could probably see myself answering to some form of Beatrice Gertrude Culley. It is a blend of names from my family tree, reaching nice and far back down to more recent times.

The Divorce

"Fuck me!" She screamed, desperation thick in her voice. Cold eyes stared at her, silent and disapproving.

By now, the neighbors would be awake. They would know that Sherry and Dave had their final fight. Word would spread before the sun rose and the entire block would know that Dave had finally filed for divorce and broke the news to Sherry.

"You bastard!" She wailed, "You can't ignore me! I gave you three beautiful children! I let you have your whore! But this?"

Ears would be turned toward open windows while coffee warmed hands on the cool November morning. Though no one could truly hear it, each of the eavesdroppers would imagine the rustling of papers waving in the air.

"Goddamnit!" Sherry screeched, "Why her? What does she have that I don't?" Dave continued to remain silent.

Divorce happened all the time on the sleepy little cul-de-sac, but no one would ever have suspected the Coopers. They projected marital bliss with the perfect All-American family. That is, until this morning; their seemingly crisp and clean laundry was quickly being shown just as soiled as the rest of the neighbors'.

"Fuck me!" Sherry's voice shook, tears shredding holes in her once solid tone. "Bend me over the table! Right here, like you used to! Please!" Her screaming faltered to begging. She dropped the divorce papers as she fell to her knees, her manicured nails fumbling with the buckle on his belt, "Just let me suck your cock and prove to you I'm the one you want!"

Dave backed away, "Pull yourself together, Sherry. It's over between us; has been for awhile." He turned and lifted his keys off the hook by the front door, "I have to get to work. We can discuss my moving out tonight."

The neighbors would pretend nothing was wrong, smile and raise a coffee mug in greeting as Dave walked to his car in the driveway. Everyone would go about their normal routines, just business as usual, the same way they played ignorant of every other domestic dispute on the block. Or, they would, if the morning's events had stayed at a mere wailing from a soon to be ex-wife desperate for her husband's attention. This morning, however, they gathered on their porches, their steaming coffee painting trails in the air as they stood, dressed in robes, watching the red and blue lights strobe in the early dawn hour.

As Dave opened the door, Sherry did something she only ever thought a nightmarish fantasy: she pulled open the hidden drawer in the entry's catch-all table, wrapped her fingers around the cold steel of a Colt .45, and lunged up off her knees.

"You fucking bastard!" she screamed in a final battle cry, and let loose her pent up rage at being the legal wife, but always his second choice. Six solid shots sank deep in his back. 

The Burglar

Cynthia pulled at the restraints tying her to the wall. They were neither too tight or too loose and held firm as she tugged; the work of a master. She smiled. Her master.

She closed her eyes and relaxed against the solid brick against her bare back. A sigh slipped past her lips as she thought of the fun to come when Sir returned home from the store, just a few blocks away. He would probably walk, prolonging Cynthia's anticipation; he had a tendency to wander off and run errands while she was tied up. She jokingly called it inhumane torture, he called it foreplay.

The sound of footsteps down the hall startled her. Sir had left for the store not too long ago and had very loudly shut the front door. The person walking in her house couldn't be her lover. No, the fall of the steps weren't his, either; they were too soft and too closely spaced. Cynthia's heart began to race. Dare she call out? If it were Sir pretending to be someone else, or someone Sir invited in, she would be punished. Was making her presence known worth the denial of an orgasm? She straightened up the best she could while splayed in an X against the wall, scratching her stiletto heels against the tile in the process. The footsteps stopped.

When silence clung to the air for a full ten minutes, the footsteps started again, headed straight for Cynthia. She carefully slowed her breath, bit her lower lip, and prayed she would be well rewarded for keeping her silence.

"This is unexpected."

Cynthia's eyes flashed open and locked on the figure in the doorway. Her heart thundered violently in her chest, threatening to escape and building a pressure so great, her attempt to scream failed. Her mouth hung open and her shock showed quite visible. This man was not her lover and would never be one of his invited guests. He was one of Cynthia's coworkers.

"My, my," the man slowly entered the room, approaching Cynthia as he spoke, "when you said you were going on vacation, we all assumed you meant a week away. On the beach." He stopped a few feet in front of the tied woman, "Not hanging around here." He laughed at his own joke.

"Spencer! What?" Cynthia struggled to speak as she pulled at the ropes binding her, "What are you doing here?" Her restraints were too well done, she couldn't release herself. She couldn't cover her nakedness. She couldn't escape the mail room clerk before her.

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here? You are supposed to be on vacation!" Spencer spat at her. "You are supposed to be the darling paralegal off in the Caribbean, spending the money you hoard." He took a step closer, shoving his finger in her face, "You are supposed to be gone so that I can slip in here and take something of yours," his finger slammed into her shoulder to emphasize his point. "Something that belongs to me!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Panic never really surged in Cynthia, but anger was a quick blink away. She forgot her lack of clothing in an instant. He was there to rob her. He was going to steal from her. "What do I have that is yours?"

Spencer chose that moment to realize Cynthia's nudity. "Well, you have a lot that I want," he sneered. "I was thinking just a few odds and ends, things you wouldn't miss. But this?" He motioned at her bound state. "This is something better." He took a step back to evaluate the exquisite human form before him.

"Spencer, don't be an idiot. You don't--"

"AN IDIOT?!" Incomprehensible anger lashed out at Cynthia and she froze. "I am no idiot! You stole from me, now I steal from you! But what?" He turned a slow circle through the room, taking in the small space but barely registering anything beyond the woman tied to the wall. He stopped, his eyes narrowed and met hers, "You. I will have you right here, right now, and then take something you will never get back. You took my Alisha from me, my darling baby, so I will take your baby. Your first born will be mine!" His hands flew to his jeans and pulled apart the belt, violently threw the zipper down, and fished out his cock.

Cynthia stood in complete shock. Alisha? She had been the paralegal Cynthia replaced, but it wasn't Cynthia's fault - the woman was a complete idiot and slept around the office. It was her attempt at seducing one of the senior partners that pushed her out of the company. And Spencer blamed Cynthia.

"I didn't take Alisha from you!" Cynthia yelled. "She did it to herself!"

Spencer's hand left his hardening dick and backhanded Cynthia, "LIES! You took her from me!" He returned to pumping himself, staring at her flat stomach, "You took her. You made her go away. And now, I will take your baby." His left hand reached out and stroked Cynthia's waist, tracing over a thin chain tattoo that trailed from her hip to her navel. His voice lowered to that of a man in a trance, "Such a pretty home. Soft skin, yes, soft." Cynthia tensed as his hand traveled higher, "And plenty to eat. Big breasts. Perfect breasts." He lowered his head and pulled a nipple into his mouth. His hand slid over his cock, trapped between their bodies. He moaned.

Cynthia struggled, but no matter how hard she pulled, she could not loosen the ropes. Though she fought, she realized she was getting turned on; the struggle, the nipple sucking, the cock brushing against her hip, all worked in tandem against her mind's wishes. She was too conditioned to enjoy the situation. When his teeth nipped gently, her body froze and a small gasping moan escaped her lips. No! Not this! Proper fear gripped Cynthia in that moment, but her body was lost to her.

Her moan urged Spencer's hand along. His teeth released her nipple and his mouth moved on up to her neck. "Oh, so soft. So sweet," he muttered between kisses. "Just perfect." His lips clamped down on her neck, one hand still stroking between them, the other gripping her waist, pulling her off the wall. Cynthia's wrists and ankles strained in the rope, rubbing against the rough material. Her orgasm was sudden, loud, and wet. Spencer pulled away and looked at his captive. "So perfect. Oh so perfect."

Through a haze, Cynthia watched as Spencer released his cock and grabbed her hips with both hands. No, please no.... Her silent pleas were lost in her post-orgasm mindlessness. She tried to look away, but stared and watched in horror as her would-be burglar plunged deep inside her body. The force of his entry sent shock waves up her spine, throwing her head back and releasing a scream of ecstasy.

Spencer waited until he was ready to burst before taking what he felt was his. The moment he was as fully immersed in Cynthia's warmth, he came. A single thrust released all of his pent up energy; his rage, his lust, his need, everything. Gush after gush filled her with his seed, claiming her womb as his for the next nine months. Cynthia's first born would be his.


Cynthia's sobs broke the magic. Spencer pulled out and away and wiped a tear from her cheek, "Shh, what's wrong?"

"P-please," Cynthia, whispered, "Please, Sir, t-tell me you meant it?"

Spencer looked into the shining eyes of his pet, "Meant what, Darling?"

"Th-the baby? Did you," Cynthia swallowed the lump in her throat, "Did you meant it?"

A smile spread on her lover's face, "Yes, Darling, I did." He leaned in and rubbed his cheek to hers. "Now, let's get you down and off to bed. We can make the official first attempt properly."

Demon Angels

The man in the television, the one that claimed to be a time traveler? He spoke of quantum-locked creatures, evil things, "lonely assassins".... His one bit of advice: "Don't blink."

I didn't listen. I blinked. I turned my back on the angels for only a moment. I blinked. The stone statues crept nearer. I blinked. How do you stop a freight train hauling full speed down the track? You don't. I blinked. Assassins? Those sharp teeth! I blinked. Claws thicker than my fingers. I blinked. They were upon me, then.

Out of fear, I closed my eyes. If the man on the television was right, I was dead. Why stare death in the face? Especially a cold, grey, concrete death with wings.

What came next was surely death - but not the end of life. It was the ultimate explosion of life.

Stone tore at my clothes. Cold hands pressed against my flesh. Three angels worked in tandem and I was soon lifted off the ground, my feet dangled below me. My arms were held wide, my hips pulled forward, and my legs spread around a creature so soft, I opened my eyes in surprise.

I was suspended in a statue contraption; I was the living centerpiece of a tangle of stone arms and wings. The once soft body between my legs was hard as rock, a solid angel preparing to force his entry into my exposed sex. The absurdity of it all rode alongside the sudden thought that I must be quite the sight at that moment. Who would believe that I was not part of some elaborate erotic art display?

As happens naturally, I blinked.

I caught my breath and stared at the monstrous thing in front of me with a weapon of certain death pointed at my cunt. These creatures were quick and in that single blink of an eye, my attacker had doubled in size. His accomplices were just as fast, each now clenching a breast in their talons. There was no pain, only mild discomfort - a shock to my mind.

I blinked again.

A moan escaped my lips as I opened my eyes to find my nipples clamped between impossibly placed concrete fingers. The hips of the angel between my thighs hadn't moved much closer, but he had shifted his angle to gently press against my skin.

Another blink.

My legs were now lodged between the wings and the creature's body, his hands positioned around my waist. A fraction of a second had seen little movement from the two holding me up, but my nipples stung from repeated rolling. Quantum-locked? I began to understand their speed. I bit my lip and took a deep breath.

I closed my eyes for an intentionally long blink.

I panted and stared at the stone hands grasping my waist. One thumb was positioned lower; it had been grazing my clitoris nanoseconds before. I looked to the two still lifting my arms and gripping my breasts and saw their eyes, their empty eyes, staring through me. It was unnerving, but in a good way - in that way that you know you are just a sex object to be used, at least momentarily. I needed no more proof than their own erections lifting the carved cloth below me.

I realized in that moment that I held the power. My body was excited, tight, wet, and waiting. And I controlled eternity.

My lips broke into a devious smile. My eyes closed, and I gave myself to the infinite pleasures offered by these angels. Demon angels.

There can be no talk of their skills as lovers, for they did not love me. They fucked me, fully and truly, taking turns holding me up, slamming into me faster than I ever knew possible, and releasing their essence deep within me. As they spun around me, I kept my eyes tight, focused on every inch of their soft skin against my flesh, every thrust of their release, every firm grip of their hands.

It was minutes of ecstasy that felt like hours. I clenched my eyes, screaming my pleasure into the quiet cemetery.

Suddenly my throat was on fire; sharpened teeth buried deep in my skin and my eyes shot open. Suspended by angelic hands, I was impaled on a thick rock cock, trapped in a contortion of concrete, but I didn't care. Waves of the orgasm speared through me, spasming my body harder onto the angel locked inside me, pulling my neck back and forth through the jaws of the angel bent over me. My mind was numb, I was blind, but still I remained locked in stone.

Minutes, hours, days, time stopped mattering. I lived a thousand lives in the never-ending orgasm, an eternal death in an explosion of life. I saw stars in galaxies far beyond my own, then black holes collided inside my head. I passed out in the angels' embrace.

Sneak Peek at a WIP

He held us in a room on the first floor. It was a plain room with carpet, a brick accent wall, and a huge sliding glass door offering a full view of the backyard and pool. It was the perfect torture room; we knew freedom was so close but so unattainable. Outside, the backyard was modest, a typical suburban neighborhood size, with the pool taking up most of the area. A twelve foot privacy fence kept out nosy neighbors, and the bodyguards maintained the pool. No one knew we were there because no one ever came to the house except more guards. It was his private home.

"Did he have a name? Something he preferred you call him?" I looked up at the detective sitting before me. He wore a black leather duster and hadn't shaved in a few days. His scruffy face attempted a sympathetic soft look, but he was too eager to make an arrest for the hard lines to leave his eyes.

When I spoke, my voice came out small, "Sir. He wanted us to call him Sir." I look back to the cup of warm coffee in my hands, "But I listened. I overheard one of the guards call him by name once. Jacob."

We were chained to the wall like dogs. Collars wrapped our necks and our hands were bound before us. Our feet were free, but there was little we could do within our chained radius. The guards mostly ignored us, speaking only when we were out of line or when Jacob was on his way. I refused to acknowledge him as my master and he laughed, "I will break you, my dear. My pets always break."

The detective leaned a little closer, pushing his recorder nearer, "I know this is hard, but I need you to tell me, in your own words, what Jacob was doing to you and to the other women."

I stared more intently at the black sludge in the ceramic mug. I was at a loss for words, which, according to the paramedics, could be shock, but I refused to believe that. How do you tell a complete stranger how one man violated you, day after day, in front of other women? How do you tell a complete stranger that the same man raped every woman in the room in front of your own eyes? How do you tell a complete stranger that you refused to break - that you refused to admit you enjoyed his attentions?