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.

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.

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.

Denial

I sit in front of you, your fingers fucking me while you stand back, cold and isolated, watching, your eyes hiding the warmth I know lives inside your soul....

I am your slut, dancing like a puppet to your hand's command. I writhe beneath your touch, my teeth biting my lips to remain quiet, doing what I can to obey commands of no noise, no sound. Sharp gasps quiver my jaw; I plead with my eyes, locked to your stone mask, begging to speak, begging for acknowledgement. With no smile, no show of pleasure or emotion, you nod.

"P-p-please? M-may I..." I whimper as your fingers pick up pace, "S-sir! Sir, m-may I..." another increase in tempo distracts me and my eyes flutter closed. A moan slips past my lips seconds before your free hand slaps hard on my thigh. My eyes snap open, focus slow to fixate on our face. "S-sir, thank y-you," I whisper, "for correcting me."

Your jaw clenches, your only sign of emotion. The fingers in my cunt continue without hesitation.

"Please, Sir," I begin again, "May I," I do what I can to suppress another moan, "come? S-sir? Please?"

Everything stops. I whimper as you pull away, "No."

Pleading In Daydreams

I don't want to be in this office chair. I want to be on my knees, in front of you, hands bound behind my back, your hand twisted in my hair, with my mouth wrapped around your cock. I want to swallow you, whole, feel you pulse against my tongue, feel you twitch against my cheek - from the inside. I ache to be your fuck doll, your play toy, your Good Girl.

Guide me down and let me up - but never take your cock from between my lips. Give me just enough room to breathe, but don't deny me your taste, your flesh. Allow me, please, to show you my desire, prove my love, and offer my lust upon your altar.

#FlashFuckingContest - Overtime

Forty hours a week, a slave to this desk, what more could I ask? Five o’clock, the office empties. I remain, faithful to the deadline, pen scratching paper. His voice catches my attention, calling my name from around his solid door. My heels clack on tile, the short trip into his office echoing in the silence. He presents a marked draft, bleeding bright red; I gasp and my cheeks flush. Bowing my head, I hike my skirt, pantiless, and bend over his desk. For each stroke of red, he delivers a stroke of cock, hard and rough, like the draft.

Master's Call

Vibrations rumble,
growling in cloth,
eager.
Anticipation bubbles
dance along skin;
goosebumps.
A button press
wireless answer,
"Sir?"
Required dress code,
time and place,
~click~
His deep voice
my only command:
obey.

Fuckable

To my darling, lover, owner,

I bid thee return soon for I shall lose my mind. Thrice now I have raced to the door, only to realize 'twas not you that knocked. My heart aches at the thought that you have left forever, though I know this not to be truth. Work has claimed thee too often of late; please hear my plea and hurry home!

As I sit here and dictate to the computerized scribe, my thoughts only on your homecoming, I find myself resisting the urge to succumb to the demands of my deprived body. As instructed, I have read my required smut daily assignments but have not touched my body. I fear my skin is afire or that I may drown in my own sweet secretions if you do not arrive soon! Nay, I have not tasted the juices from my cunt, I merely describe the scent! I have abode by the rules left before your latest departure!

I beg of thee, I need release! The tension sings along my core, my nipples truly throb, and my undergarments! They have been soaked since the night you went away! Continually I am on edge; my poor lips suffer greatly from the bites delivered to refrain from reaching climax. Had I known the length of your time away, I would have requested allowances!

Not that I desire another man! Please do not misconstrue the meanings behind my words! Nay! I merely mean to say that I would have asked for permission to pull a few batteries from the cupboard!

As it is, though, I remain as you demand: naturally lubricated and ready. Fuckable.

My collar remains buckled, awaiting thy fingers to jingle the bells. Already I can imagine those first moments after you cross the threshold: your commanding voice, my knee-crawling mews, your strong hands lifting me up, your hard kiss crushing my broken lips. It is that next action that races the blood in my veins - I beg for permission to prove my dedication to your instructions and you flick the bells just once! On the spot my knees give and I collapse in shuddering response, face raised upward to you, my generous owner! Then, before the heady cloud passes, your satisfaction is shown to me, inches from my lips, and I devour your hardness!

Oh, sir! Please! I cannot bear another night without release! Another day and I shall ask for what crime am I being punished!

Eternally yours,
Missing you,
Awaiting your return,
Your (obedient) Kitten

Fluffed

All you Christian devout-Catholic types out there, be prepared to damn me to Hell. Hell, I will probably even meet you there! Condemning people just because their sexual orientation? What happened to "Love thy neighbor"? You Christians allowing an unconstitutional constitution-amendment to pass?!?!?!

But, in all honesty, that is not what this post is about. This post is about me getting fluffed. After the proposal, I had a mini-bachelorette party (let us face it, I will not ever have a true night-long bachelorette party - my fiance is too conservative and anti-social to ever have a bachelor party, thus out of fairness, I will not ever force him to it nor will I ever enjoy the night before our wedding with my girls watching men strip [not to mention I don't get off looking at men strip; unless they are flexing and all oiled up and I can grab their muscle...]). My mini-bachelorette party was also my mini-engagement party. But then again, it really was not a party; it was just me and my best friend--and his roommate.

It was a warm night, late last August. I had been proposed to the day before and had some time to kill while my fiance worked. I had planned on staying over at my friend's place for a few weeks; I loved him like a brother and my boyfriend trusted me around him. It was a single night set aside for catching up on life; we had both become entangled in work and our worrisome love lives, both of which took up a fair chunk of our time. We set this night aside for a movie we had both been looking forward to seeing and my home cooking. His roommate, temporary through troubles with his wife, had an evening full of beer drinking planned with some of his buddies down at the bar; I and my friend appeared to have the perfect evening to ourselves.

As was customary for us, being the obsessives of the movie series we were to see, we dressed up, or in my case, dressed down. It was a movie in which my favorite character was the sexy courtesan heroine; his was the character more associated with a lazy bum (someone as classy as him? it is a shock!). Grey Goose in hand, we hit play, snuggled close on the couch. Ten minutes into the movie, his roommate huffs through the door; there would be no drinks at the bar tonight, it is always wise not to ask why.

Movie night ruined? No, we had planned and sacrificed too much time already. His roommate grabbed a beer (the brand I cannot remember) and gingerly sat next to me on the couch; he had always preferred to be away on these nights, claiming the insanity level rose tenfold. My chiffon top showed easily my barely fitting, but gorgeous and low silk nightie corset-style top, which made him uncomfortable, but not aroused-uncomfortable. No, that came from the fact I was only clad in a matching thong, matching chiffon skirt, a pair of stockings and heels with ankle-strap ties that snaked up to my knees.

Shockingly, none of this bothered me. I, the normally shy-innocent type, was rather wet at the idea of being so exposed to my close friend's cute, but married, friend and roommate. Was it the vodka? At the time, I did not care.

As it turns out, my close friend and I had a silly thing going on that night; being the courtesan, I was required to do as he said or risk punishment. This changed not in the least with his roommate stiffly lounging about. So much so I was barked at by my friend for not serving a fresh beer to his roommate.

After a few beers on his part and a few shots of chilled Goose on mine, we were quite relaxed and all hands and eyes were on me each time someone needed a drink. Then, almost suddenly, one hand followed me to my seat, claiming the chiffon top as spoils. A little after that, the skirt went. Then the corset-like nightie top. It was rather warm in the room, leaving no excuse for my quite nice erect nipples. Yes, I was drunk and quite turned on.

Quick aside: just because a person is drunk does not mean s/he will not remember things; memory only blurs in patches.

The temptation was too great for my poor friend's roommate--he had to have a taste. However, since he is not a "tit-man", his attention moments before were on my stocking covered legs and my bare thighs. I never knew how erotic it could be to have a forbidden man running his fingers lightly up and down my thigh.

My friend, in his infinite wisdom, had moved to a chair across from the couch to watch with a secretive smile.

The roommate, with the assistance of the alcohol, became brave enough to allow his fingers to roam farther onto my inner thigh, lightly tracing the nylons' upper decorative lacing while he leaned back and watched with glazed eyes my whimpering, my need growing. Yes, he was a devil to the very core. My release came minutes later when he, in a hypnotized state, yearned to hear more intense whimpering spill from my throat. What he got instead was something sweeter to the male ear.

Yes, you Christian-to-the-core readers, I was finger-fucked by a married man. But it gets more damnable, if you care to continue reading. My friend, upon seeing me splayed out on the couch, wearing simply stockings and heels (the chiffon skirt and the thong disappeared sometime in there), called his roommate to the kitchen for a quick meeting. I thought, in my mush-minded state, that the roommate was getting a long talking-to on account of being married and fooling around. Apparently not. Upon their return, I was taken up by my friend and sat somewhat properly between the two, propped up on pillows. They both had hands everywhere with my consent.

Quick aside: the only drunk who does not comprehend what s/he is doing is a passed out drunk

I was in ecstasy, having them take turns kissing me and then double-team attacking my very tender breasts. Fellow women, I urge you, if you ever find yourself alone with two very sensual men, allow yourself this pleasure; you will not regret it. Of course, along with the hands and mouths, orgasms are inevitable. I very nearly blacked out, I know that for sure, but I enjoyed every moment of it.

Recovery time came next. The friend sat me on his lap and allowed me respite from the roommate's fiery fingers. As soon as I was comprehending more than a few words, I was ordered to my knees for "our guest", the roommate. I looked questioningly to my charge as I slid to my knees in front of him. The happy content look on his face was enough to get me squirming again.

Let me admit I am a cockwhore; I enjoy sucking down a nice piece of rigid manmeat. And the roommate's is not the only one I had my mouth on that night. My friend, while watching, was getting more and more visibly turned on. So much so, that his roommate suggested I help him out too. I could not refuse, especially with the vodka coursing my veins.

It was exquisite. It was deliciously exciting and fun. So exquisite and exciting that here and now is when the memory blurs. I know what happened, but the order of events does not come to mind.

And, those of you who would condemn me, if you happen to still be reading, you will, with most probability, faint or jump from the computer screen with this next revelation. One of my fantasies of a threesome with two men, one pounding into me as I swallowed another. A few other fantasies were taken care of as well, leaving me one happy, yet still worked up woman.

And they say doing something will get it out of the system, drain the body and mind of those urges. I have to say it will be a long time and a lot of "doing something" to get those thoughts and fantasies out of my system.

And after all was said and done with, I had the roommate's juices in my stomach and mine all over his face, fingers, and cock (of which I lapped up). He wound up heading out the door (where to I have no clue) but he left content and reluctant. My friend, however, was refusing to let me out the door. I was in no condition to drive, not including my Grey Goose intake (though small as it was). I managed to make it to the bed and crawl up (being a small woman, I have to climb to get onto his massive king-size four poster). The friend climbed up and snuggled close and whispered in my ear about how he had not yet fucked me missionary. Right now, if any of you do-gooder Christians are still reading, you can pass on some saving grace, this woman is still rather normal and nice and good--if you don't count the fact I was fucking my friend and his roommate the night after becoming engaged to my three-year boyfriend.

And that, my friends, is the night I got fluffed. Another night like that has not happened since, but I still hold out hope!

How I Became His

I had never met her husband, but I had known all about him from everything she told me. He was more than a simply controlling bastard, he was a subtle abuser, attacking her emotionally and mentally, using the kids as leverage to get whatever he wanted. Such beautiful children, a brunette boy of four years and a lovely blond girl of six years. Neither she nor her husband was blond, which fueled his fiery temper. Though he had never hit her, she was afraid one day he might. Finally fed up with it, she asked for my help - he would be out of town on business for the weekend and nearly begged me to assist her move out.

Little had I known how hard the simple task would be.

He was to leave Friday afternoon, so we had made plans to meet after work and get her children first off to her mother's and then begin packing everything up to be moved into a temporary storage until she could find an apartment of her own. By eleven o'clock we successfully had all the boxes put together and labeled and all the furniture that was decidedly hers marked for removal. She was anxious and could not sleep, though we were both exhausted, so her minivan and my car were quickly laden with boxes of clothes and toys and small electronics. The storage unit would not be open until morning, so I volunteered my small single-bedroom apartment. By two in the morning, my place looked like a jungle of boxes and small odd furniture clashes. I offered her my bed while I took the floor (the couch was buried somewhere in the front room) and we both slept fitfully until our alarms sang out at six-thirty.

The dawn light filtered through the windows, odd shadows lay across the barely visible carpet floor. Over a quick cup of coffee we decided it would be best to get the furniture out of the house and into storage, allowing easy access to the boxes that would be carted over later. We immediately got to work, calling in a favor from a guy who owned a truck and trailer. Sworn to secrecy, he showed up at eight o'clock and we began hauling her half of everything into a little storage unit on the outskirts of town. By five in the afternoon, we were almost done. The few little nick-knacks that remained from the previous day, unsure then if we would have time to box them up, were gently tossed into a few spare baskets and small boxes. It would be the last time she saw this house, so we both made slow but thorough passes through each room.

I marveled at the house, finally able to stop and inspect for more than just items marked with her name on a sticker. A solid single story corner lot, three bedrooms, two living areas, a dining area and a breakfast nook. The kitchen and the breakfast nook overlooked the expansive back yard. The grass had not been mowed in a week, but with recent rains it was not the only yard on the block to be over ankle high. I saw something glint in the yard - red, shiny, and half-buried in the grass. Curious, I opened the back door from the kitchen and walked out. I gasped; she had forgotten to pack the kids' toys that remained in the yard! Looking about, I saw nearly two dozen small army men, a red wagon, several toy shovels and digging toys of various plastic sizes. I called out to her, told her to wait long enough for me to throw the items over tall wooden fence so she could toss them in her van on the last trip away from the place she once called home.

Arms full of toys, intent on my mission, I did not hear her frantically yelling my name, only looking up when I heard a car honk and her tires drive off. Standing in the threshold of the backdoor was a tall man with severe features, horn-rimmed glasses, and dressed in a well pressed, tidy business suit. Shock and fear froze me in place. We stood staring at each other for what seemed an eternity.

A small smile quirked his lips. Unblinking, he took a step toward me. I paled, more afraid than words can describe, and still unable to move. I was like a rabbit face to face with the hawk, one move and I was sure I would be torn to shreds, if not literally, then at the very least figuratively. His footsteps were silent on the grass as he drew nearer and nearer. He stopped less than two feet in front of me, the smile still present on his austere face. With slow deliberate movements, very like the walk of a few moments before, he reached out and grabbed toy after toy from my trembling arms and tossed them over the fence, watching my face intently for a reaction.

For a second, his arrogance gave me strength; I blubbered out, "Your wife told me everything, you bastard. She's leaving you and you can't stop her!"

His small smile grew to a near bubbling laugh, maniacal enough to tighten my throat with terror, turning my already frozen feet into ice cold blocks of concrete, heavy and unmoving. He leaned over, without touching me, and whispered in my ear, "My wife can do whatever she wants now. How about you?" As he stood straight, he plucked the last toy out of my hands, and without glancing at it, threw it in an arc over the wooden fence that seemed to suddenly be ten times as high.

"Come, it's getting late and I need to eat."

As if in a trance, I followed him back inside the house, careful to stay no more and no less than five steps behind. Once in the kitchen, however, he turned sharply and grabbed my shoulders, slamming me against the wall. Again I became afflicted with a standing paralysis, unable to move or control the trembling he invoked. I could not speak and the lump of fear in my throat made it hard to breathe. He was nearly six foot seven, I was merely five foot, having worn sneakers to better move the boxes instead of my normal four inch heels. Though he was taller, he had no trouble leaning his face to within inches of my mouth, asking softly, "Would you have any objections to replacing what you helped escape?" His breath caressed my lips, and an involuntary shiver ran down my spine, snapping tight an invisible chord low in my stomach and I gasped. The small smile quirked his lips once more. Without another word, he straightened, released his hold on me, and turned toward the remnants of the main living room. Again, I unconsciously followed him, five steps back.

The main living room had been grand, boasting a gorgeously deep-set couch with matching chairs and a love seat and an expensive little home theater system; after his wife had moved her half out, however, it looked desolate and empty, with a lone recliner in the corner and the television mounted on the wall with wires drooped everywhere. In the center of the room sat a single suitcase, a new item for my eyes to see. It was small, barely larger than the attaché case by the door. He stood beside it and looked expectantly toward me. Without thinking, I walked forward and knelt down to open it up. Inside, on top of his overnight packing, I found a small negligee neatly folded. It was soft and light to the touch, and with a horrific gasp, I dropped it as if it burned my skin. I fought to stand up and back away, but he had maneuvered himself behind me and held me down with his hand on my shoulder. A low chuckle erupted from his throat, his voice low and gentle slid across my body, "Now, now, no need to get all excited just yet." His voice seemed to calm me down, put me back in the trance, and I sat still once more. Satisfied with my compliance, he allowed me to stand. I turned, head bowed, eyes downcast, and stared at his feet before me. My mind was the only thing truly mine and whatever he was doing made it hard to think clearly. His left hand rested on my shoulder and prompted me to look up into his glass covered grey eyes. The smile had left his lips; there was no visible emotion on his face, just a blank expression I could not decipher. Again the lower regions of my stomach fluttered.

I was bespelled. My lips parted ever so slightly, a soft gasping moan of longing escaped. My nipples tingled, begging for my breasts to be cupped, and still the wings of butterflies danced around the tight muscles low in my body, sending shivers up and down my spine, turning my knees to trembling jello. Those same chills claimed my neck, my pulse pounded and ached just under the surface for a mouth to cover and nip my skin. As if he had read my mind, the smile returned as he bent toward me. His left hand remained on my shoulder as his right arm encircled my waist and his lips pressed into mine. I melted into him, still unable to move my own body, but content to let him hold me and kiss me.

He pulled away all too soon, watching my face as he stood straight once more. His face again wore a blank expression. He withdrew his arms and turned toward the second living room, a room half the size of the main room we were in, and halted five steps in, which left me standing in the doorway. This room once held family portraits and a lovely clock above the mantle of the fireplace, but it only held the sleeper sofa his wife did not want and a rag-tag jumble of toy chest / ottoman combos, empty of everything they once held. The walls were once again white, the large poster-size frames gone. If he was hurt by what little he saw, he did not show it. Again, he stood watching my face. Suddenly I was very aware of my new position; I was the replacement to what escaped, I was to be his next victim, I was now his prey! With that thought, I tried to turn and run - the front door stood wide open in the next room, my car sat out on the curb just beyond the short sidewalk outside the door. Barely had my mind had that single thought when his eyes glinted behind the black frame glasses and his right hand pulled a short key ring out of his pocket, flashed my keys, and put them back. My small spark of hope died, though still without complete control of my body, such a plan to escape would hardly have worked.

The dining room with the massive breakfast nook was his next destination. The only items missing from this room were the pure silver tea sets his wife collected and her great-grandmother's China set, which left the hutch bare of anything except dust. A smell of cooked vegetable oil caught my nose and my eyes caught sight of a bag of fast food on the dining table. So strong was the smell of the French fries, I momentarily wondered how I could have missed the scent when I followed him into the house. Then he pulled a chair out and stood behind it, telling me with his eyes that I should sit. Weak kneed, all thoughts fled my brain, and I obeyed. I ate what he served in silence, barely conscious of his eyes on me the entire short meal.

With the small burger and fries finished, he kept watch as I cleaned the trash away, tossing the paper cups as well as the paper wrappers. On my return from the trashcan, he turned his chair out from the table and rested his left hand on his thigh. I knew without hearing any words he wanted me to sit on his lap. Screaming inside my head, I tried to stop my motions. I succeeded for one small faltering step and halted a single step away from the front of his chair. Triumph lit my face, and I glared down at him, wishing I could speak. His left hand lifted off his thigh and wrapped around my waist as the small smile played along his lips again, a glint of humor hovering in his eyes. Immediately at his touch, my will faded and he pulled me into his lap. His right hand stroked the side of my face, grasped my chin, and forced my face even with his. A low growl emanated from his chest, "I will be compensated for what I have lost." My brain screamed at my arms to struggle, but my body remained limp, even as the fear his words evoked traveled through my veins, sending shivers along my skin. A satisfied look crossed his face. He stood, with me in his arms, and, never losing eye contact, carried me into the first bedroom along the hall.

The first bedroom was a little girl's room. Pink wallpaper decorated the empty walls; pink lace trimmed the only window illuminating an empty room. Closet doors hung open to reveal a desolate and bare interior. He mentally surveyed the room, turned, and continued on to the next bedroom. The second bedroom was the little boy's room, blue and green and just as void of signs of life. His arms grew tense as they held me, his jaw clenched tight; the only visible clues to his emotional state. Out and down the hall to the master bedroom we went. The massive four poster bed remained, but little else survived his wife's departure. With a gentleness unlike his mood suggested existed, he deposited me on the bed and stood over me.

With precise movements, he untied my shoes and tossed them out into the hall, splattering dried mud on the carpet where they landed. He sat next to me and removed his own shoes with the same stiff motions. I managed to pull myself to a sitting position in the middle of the bed and watched him meticulously place each shoe on the floor of his side of the closet. When he turned around, the corner of his mouth tilted slightly at the sight of me half huddled on the bed. I had temporarily regained my senses but did not know how long it would last; I did not like being limp in another man's bed, unable to control my own body. He seemed to sense my determination not to allow him to control me, which only amused him more.

"Come here."

A simple command, voice neutral and low, but effective nonetheless as it slid like syrup over my skin. I shivered and crawled toward him, stopping just shy of the edge of the bed to sit with legs folded under me, curious what he would do next. I did not believe he would outright rape me, else he would have done so by now; no, he seemed to be biding his time making suggestions I was compelled to follow. I did not understand how he controlled my body; how he was able to coerce me to do things against my brain's protest, and fear that it really was me doing so of my own free will kept me from inquiring.

His right hand once more caressed down my cheek, shivers of anticipation at such a slight touch danced down my spine. I leaned into his hand, half moaning through my sudden breathlessness. Never before had such a powerful response been elicited from a simple touch. His left hand trailed down my shoulder, along my arm, and rested on my waist. He leaned down and gently kissed my lips as both of his hands traced their way up my sides, dragging my shirt up over my breasts. His mouth released its hold on my lips as his hands pulled my shirt over my head. He stayed bent over, inches from my face; his breath flowed over my lips, while his hands resumed their place on my waist.

"You now belong to me."

It was not just a statement, it was fact. I knew deep down in my core his words were true. And it scared me even more. I managed to suck in my breath, in an attempt to protest, but my words caught in my throat as I was thrown backwards onto the bed. He lowered his mouth to my stomach, hands still on my waist, and kissed a small trail around my bellybutton and down to the top of my jeans. My head fell back and my pent up breath escaped in a long drawn out moan. His hands quickly unbuttoned my pants and pulled them down slowly, his lips not far behind the waistband. I drew ragged breaths, unable to focus on anything but the sensations left behind by his hot breath.

Then it was over. I laid panting, breathless, staring at the ceiling as he stood and undressed himself with swift, sure movements. A noise at the closet turned my head; he stood there naked, his clothes hung. He turned to me, in all his glory, and held up a length of rope. That smile quirked his lips once more, and when he spoke, his voice was a mere low growl, "I do not think I will need this, but just in case...." He walked back towards me as I tried to get my balance on my elbows to pull myself back to the head of the bed. The rope helped raise me out of my confused state; the adrenaline pumped through my veins and allowed me a small measure of control over my body once again.

What little control I had was not enough to out run him. I had barely pulled myself backwards two feet when his hand grabbed my ankle and pulled me down again. My fear kicked back in, but at his touch I lost the ability to move; I trembled in his grasp, frozen underneath his curious gaze. He gently laid the rope down beside my head as he crawled atop me to straddle and pin me in place. He drew my arms above my head, held them in place with one hand, and halted with his mouth over my ear. I whimpered, both from fear and wanting to feel his teeth biting at my neck. I heard his guttural growl in response.

He was still, unmoving above me, and the nearness of him began to drive me crazy. I knew I should fight back, but my will was beginning to fade. The very idea of belonging to someone, specifically him, did not enrage me as it had when he first mentioned it; it began to turn me on as no thought ever had before. I writhed beneath him, barely aware that my body and my mind were on the same wavelength. He sensed the change in me and pulled himself up to look down in my eyes. His grey eyes were black now; our eyes locked together as his free hand slid up my body and under my bra. My breath hissed in when his hand attempted to fully encompass my breast. He pulled his hand out slowly, but stopped when his fingers locked on my hardening nipple; I closed my eyes and threw my head back, gasping.

"That's it," he growled, his breath hot on my neck. He took advantage of my arched back, reached around and unclasped my bra and drew it up over my head and tossed it across the room. His hand caressed down my body while his mouth latched on to my neck. My head spun, colors whirled around behind my closed eyes. His hand slowly traveled down to my hips and his mouth released my flesh. Instead of pulling off my panties, he slid his fingers around and underneath the thin fabric and halted, held still against my body. His colorless eyes watched me slowly come back to my senses.

My thoughts raced, I admitted to myself I was his, freely and willingly. His lips curled in a knowing smile. With deliberate slowness, eyes locked on mine, he pushed his fingers inside me, one by one.

"Cum for me."

I obeyed. Again and again.






I jolted upright, confused, and afraid of what had just happened. I was disoriented in the dark, the bed too hard to be mine. I reached around to find my phone and immediately bumped my hand on a table leg. Too confused to curse at the pain, I looked around again, forcing myself to look harder into the blackness. I was not in the half empty bedroom of a controlling dominant, but on the floor of my bedroom in my small apartment with my coworker asleep in my bed. It was just a dream!

I heard again the sound that woke me: a banging on my door knocker. I quickly found my robe and gingerly made my way through the sea of boxes and looked through the peephole as I called out an inquiry of welcome at four in the morning. I froze with my hand on the door chain. HE stood outside my door, "I know you have my wife in there. Tell her when she wakes, we need to talk."

Her Submissive Soul

He pulls her to the bedroom to have some fun,
But finds it difficult to enjoy the tameness,
And recalls events of the past few days,
Fouling up his mood and raising his anger,
Causing the discovery of new faults,
Accusations fly revolving around her technique;
She seems almost too eager to please,
Over enthusiastic in her attempts at foreplay,
There is no question about her now,
She is cheating and her actions prove it!
The decision finalizes in his mind with a snap,
Inaudible but still she notices,
She flinches as he makes his move,
His hand halts her progress,
Clenching her jaw and drawing her up,
Another argument is soon to follow,
She downcasts her eyes attempting to avoid it,
But the verbal onslaught ensues,
Wincing away from his harsh words,
Her face beginning to hurt in his grasp,
Tears well up and vision is blurred,
She is released in a throwing motion,
Landing crumpled on the floor in disbelief,
Her head shakes her denial,
Over and over she proclaims her innocence,
But all her claims fall on deaf ears;
Realization dawns,
She has been tried and convicted,
Sentencing is soon to follow,
He is a man of pride and honor,
One mark against her tarnishes her forever,
And she is now considered guilty,
There is only one solution available,
Degradation and humiliation,
Attempt to balance the scales once more;
She grovels at his feet for forgiveness,
Admitting a crime she never committed,
Secretly loving how he makes her feel,
Submitting down on her knees,
Reaching up to his softening phallus,
Fingers working delicately,
Coaxing and caressing him to life,
Begging with her eyes for him to see,
To understand she is innocent,
Continuing to plead for absolution,
Soft words fall from her lips,
Her mouth draws nearer to her hands,
Slow kisses on his member interrupt her words;
Though she enjoys being submissive,
This is the part she hates the most,
Pulling him into her mouth for penance,
Completely innocent of any wrong,
Knowing he will never forget the accusation.
Sure that this will not be the last time,
She locks the shame away,
Shoves it deep inside,
Unconsciously reveling in the perverse emotion.

Pinned

It had been longer than she could remember since he had been in a mood like this. At least a month since he had even come near her. Living on opposite sides of town did nothing to help, either. Then there was the fact that he was married....

All she had gotten was a text message at noon:
your place. you know when.

All afternoon she was giddy and nervous. She truly loved him, mourned his marriage, but never claimed him. She knew she would never be anything more than a woman on the side, and with the way she was treated when he was near, she did not mind in the least.

Five O'clock finally arrived. She hurried out to her car and fought traffic home; she had an hour to navigate traffic, clean her apartment, set out candles, and primp. The problem was, her usual drive home was a forty-five minute commute. And she could not be late.

When she arrived home, she had five minutes - not enough time! Sacrifices would be made, much to her chagrin. It seemed to be her worst day, even with the date set; she hurried her walk, carelessly rushing her steps, and caught her heel. Not only did she break the stiletto, but she twisted her ankle, only six feet from her front door.

What she never knew was that he was always early, sitting and watching as she hurried about her preparations. This was no exception.

He walked up the sidewalk, smirking to himself; she was always falling or bumping into things. His smirk faded to a frown as he got closer to her; she was half-sitting, half-crawling from her short patio to her door, sounds of her tears quietly reaching his ears.

His steps were silent, but his cologne carried on the small breeze. She looked up and gasped. The evening was ruined, she had let him down, and she was in no condition to please him.

He tsk'd her as he bent down and scooped her up in his arms, unlocked the door, and carried her in. She muttered under her breath never ending apologies, silencing only when she was gently sat upon the bed. Surprise filled her voice as she commented on the rose petals strewn about the room, the candles already lit.

In response, he smiled and held up her spare key, no longer hiding in the false bottom of the hanging ivy planter. He put it back in his pocket and dried her tears on his sleeve, ignoring her protestations of ruining his silk shirt. He kissed her to quiet her, holding her face between his hands. He reveled in feeling her melt into him, there was just something to having a women relax and submit herself to him, made him feel more like a man.

She raised her hands to cover his only to have him grab her wrists, gently but firmly, and put them back at her side as he broke the kiss. A small smile played along her lips, her eyes drowning with intoxication from his grip.

How can anyone refuse such a look? He kissed her again, harder, forcing her mouth open, pressing her backwards onto her back, arms still held to her side. A moan rumbled through her throat, crawling deliciously into his mouth. He raised himself above her to better look at her; her long hair had escaped its bun when she fell, creating an intriguing dark red halo as she lay beneath him. Her pale jade blouse was loose from her skirt, but only just barely, revealing a small patch of skin at her lower stomach. Her deep evergreen skirt was nearly to her hips as a result of his carrying her, showcasing her legs, and, surprisingly, a pair of flesh-toned thigh-highs held up with black garters. He shifted to better view the tanned skin peeking out between her blouse and skirt, releasing one of her hands to lift the blouse ever so slightly.

He knew she was beautiful, it is what attracted him to her, but never with his wife had such small amounts of skin done what hers seemed to do. He was suddenly filled with a hunger so deep, that hours with her would not sate him. She was his drug, and she was irresistible. He lowered his head slowly, focused only on her stomach, taking in the scent of her before he kissed her softly. She moaned again, shifted a most minute amount, allowing him to smell how ready she was, how much she had missed him. His head snapped up, eyes catching hers. His eyes had bled to nearly pure black with desire, the only trace of his gold color a thin ring. She gasped and stilled under his gaze, afraid to do anything to cause him to look away.