Red Hot Reads Three

by Beverly Langland

  RED HOT READS 3

  A collection of six erotic stories

  Edited by Miranda Forbes

  Published by Accent Press Ltd – 2010

  ISBN 9781907761003

  Copyright © Accent Press Ltd 2010

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Xcite Books, Suite 11769, 2nd Floor, 145-157 St John Street, London EC1V 4PY

  The stories contained within this book are works of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the authors" imaginations and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  Careful What You Wish For Beverly Langland

  Restless in the Storm Roxanne Rhoads

  Cheeky Girls Landon Dixon

  Loving Them Both Penelope Friday

  All Grown Up Jade Taylor

  Sauna Sex Margaret Scott

  Also available in the Red Hot Reads Series

  Red Hot Reads One

  Red Hot Reads Two

  Careful What You Wish For

  by Beverly Langland

  Behind the flickering candlelight, something stirs in the darkness. Hungry whispers call to me. I shake my head, slowly growing aware of my surroundings. Where am I? Why am I? Then I remember! They have me suspended in a leather harness, hanging in the gloom, my body supported in a truss, my arms and legs spread wide. I can see nothing past the circle of candles. I want to scream. They may hear my yells but no one will answer. No one will help. They never do. My comfort is not their concern. Nor are my wishes. They ignore my pleas, these invisible people, yet I know they are there, waiting. They whisper, they murmur in tongues strangely familiar yet beyond my comprehension. I endeavour, but can never quite fathom what the voices say. Sometimes I catch a word, a half-phrase, or believe I do. Perhaps it is the quality of sound or the inkling of rhythm, which fuels my imagination? A cool draft sweeps over me. I always feel the draft before they arrive. The murmurs grow louder, become more agitated. I cannot see them. I never see them. They remain a mere wisp of presence. A glimmer. A shadow. A fading scent. Nothing more. Present but not present, hovering just out of sight. Yet they are real. I know first-hand they are real. Faceless creatures. Insatiable creatures. Watching. Waiting. Wanting.

  I shake my head, more in disbelief than concern. Surely, not again? ‘Please, no more. No more!’ As always, they ignore my muffled pleas, and the endless cycle restarts.

  I am prepared to admit I am wrong. Not all wishes should come true. If only I had been more careful with my phrasing. If only. Still, I didn’t deserve this. Not this. The heaven I have created for myself is rapidly becoming my hell. Yet, my demise started so innocently – an illicit kiss for a gypsy girl – a small outlay in return for her telling my fortune, for making my wish come true. The girl stood out in the crowded fairground, her bright clothes a striking contrast to the dull canvas of the small tent in front of which she stood. The girl’s blinding smile drew me to her, those wondrous eyes holding me hostage. ‘Fortune for the lady?’

  I didn‘t put much faith in it, but for some reason I felt compelled to reveal my innermost desires to this beautiful creature. She was no ordinary fortune-teller. I soon realised the girl was no ordinary gypsy. I confess she had me flustered. Thoughts of lesbian sex flooded my head unheeded and her smile alone made my pussy wet. She held my hand in hers and bade me to choose my wish wisely. For some bizarre reason I said I wished for endless orgasms. Endless? Did I actually say endless? I could have said love, or wealth, or a myriad other things. Yet, I chose orgasms. She smiled when I had finished, bending forward to collect her prize. I had never kissed a girl on the lips, but the gypsy insisted the kiss was a necessary part of the contract. As I pressed my lips to hers, I felt a tremendous rush through my body, leaving me flushed and a little giddy. Later, as I walked home somewhat in a daze I had the strangest feeling the gypsy girl had somehow tricked me.

  Is it coincidence that I met Jon and Sarah the same evening? They are a peculiar couple. They induced in me the same strange feeling I had felt earlier at the carnival. It was as if our meeting was not chance at all, but had been preordained. They didn‘t fool me. I sensed immediately they were sexual predators. Why else were they at Charlie‘s bar? Charlie‘s is a sleazy club where all the misfits and deviants gather to find like-minded people. I knew of its reputation before I walked in, but I felt a strange attraction and curiosity got the better of me. I guess I look like an innocent, for Jon and Sarah had separated me from the herd in a matter of minutes. I wasn‘t fazed. I‘m a big girl and thought I knew what I was doing. Jon and Sarah were pleasant company, and I admit they enthralled me with their frank and explicit stories. After one or two drinks, they had me quite aroused and the thought passed through my head that if they invited me, I would go with them.

  They did, so I joined Jon and Sarah in their bed. Sarah took control, perhaps for my benefit. I was surprised how easily she eased me out of my clothing. Jon watched from the comfort of the bed. Sarah and I kissed, fondled, and in time she gave me a little nudge and I tumbled onto the mattress. Jon joined his wife, removing her clothes – deliberately slowly – while this time, I watched. Sarah had a fantastic body. Jon had me captivated as he unravelled Sarah before my eyes. As the clothes came off, I couldn‘t fail to notice her pierced nipples, her pierced belly button, and finally the piercings adorning her sex. There was a tiny stud through her clitoris, and a series of rings through her labia. Each pair of rings linked together using a small silver padlock. Sarah saw me staring and smiled disarmingly. ‘Don‘t worry,’ she said. ‘Jon will unlock me if I‘m a good girl.‘

  I didn‘t have to wonder long what it entailed for Sarah to be a “good girl”. She was on me in a flash, kissing and sucking, her hands roaming everywhere. Finally, when I could take her teasing no longer, she slid between my legs, bringing me to orgasm in no time with her expert tongue. Jon stood beside us, his cock hard and pointing skywards. ‘Well?’ he asked. ‘Does she deserve some of this?’ He grabbed the beast in his hand to make his meaning obvious. I am no expert, but if I had to judge Sarah on the strength of my orgasm, I would award her full marks. I told Jon this. Sarah thanked me as Jon unlocked the padlocks one by one, and then climbed between her legs. He fucked Sarah in front of me, pulling on her nipples so harshly I thought they would tear free. Sarah screamed when she came, Jon slapping her thighs as if he was taking his favourite filly for a canter.

  Hands are on me again. Soft hands, rough hands, big hands, small hands – touching, squeezing, pinching, probing. They are everywhere. On my breasts. In my mouth. Cupping my sex. Tugging at my nipples. Stroking my stomach, my thighs, and my feet. Rummaging through my thick, luscious hair. Probing between the cheeks of my bottom. So many hands, so many fingers I lose count. And always – harsh or gentle – they bring pleasure. There are many more now than when they first brought me to this place. It seems I draw them to me. At first, there were only two, but each time the cycle restarts there are one or two more. Deprived of sight I nevertheless begin to recognise the hands. The varied touches. Some hesitant. Some light. Some heavy. The varied contours. The different texture of skin. The curve of a nail. A growing band of enthusiasts I never see.

  Then slowly, gradually, the hands leave, replaced by disembodied mouths and lips, by other parts of the body.

  A mouth is on mine; full luscious lips, tongue probing. A woman, teeth nibbling, tugging at my own lips, stretching, nipping, drawing blood. I respond. I have no choice and even if I had, I have moved beyond the point of resistance. As always, the mout
h has no face. There is no trace of breath. Only lips, teeth, and tongue. Until Sarah, I had never kissed a girl in passion. Now, I am so hungry the sex of the owner makes no difference. Besides, the women are no easier on me. They are as persistent, as harsh as the men are. Once they have finished with me they leave me swinging in the darkness.

  How did my tryst with Jon and Sarah come to this? It is not hard to imagine how I, starved of affection for so long, fell under their spell, mistaking sex for the love I desired. After that first night, I joined Jon and Sarah often. Always at their behest. It quickly became evident that the couple were heavily into bondage, and more. They gradually drew me deeper into their sordid games. I enjoyed the comforting feeling of helplessness. I even responded to a little pain, though at first pain was never a requirement. With Sarah‘s persuasion, I had my nipples pierced. Then later my clitoris. Yet, through it all, I always felt like a visitor to Jon and Sarah‘s sex games. Wanting more independence, I ventured into BDSM clubs. That‘s where I met Geoff. We had a few dates, which inevitably led to sex. This time I knew up front what I was letting myself in for. Geoff liked to tie me real tight. At first, it was fun, but later he would leave me for many hours, which was no fun at all, especially since, unlike now, he never broke the boredom with impromptu bouts of sex. Still, I am thankful to Geoff for introducing me to the Paradise Club. A private members club for connoisseurs of the dark arts of sex.

  Long bouts of bondage inevitably lead to aches and pains. I try to shift position. I have no idea how long they have left me. The harness grows more and more uncomfortable. The pain wakes my addled brain. I remember now! The first two put me naked into the leather harness then strapped me in, hands and feet suspended from leather cuffs attached to chains in the ceiling, arms and legs spread wide. The harness is supportive but not stiff. I can swing freely, which is to their advantage, not mine. To make my discomfort worse they have blindfolded me and have a bit strapped around my head, forcing my mouth open. The bit makes me drool, like the village idiot I have been. I am sweating. The room is excessively hot. Am I this close to Hell? Or is this Heaven? My fickle mind switches between the two. The Chinese have a curse: May all your wishes come true, which pretty much sums up my situation.

  The silence is disturbing, but welcome. I draw in a deep breath. I detect the faint aroma of musk, evidence of the hot swamp between my legs. I try not to be, but I am in a constant state of arousal. I take advantage of the silence to drift into a half-sleep, only for the touch of a rough finger to wake me. The finger slowly traces the line of my throat, the nail intentionally scratching my skin. They are trying to frighten me – without much success. I am past caring. A shudder brings me fully awake. I tremble as hands grab my ankles. Someone is between my spread legs – taking advantage. A woman I guess, because I feel the soft brush of long hair as she bends towards me. She blows cool air on my sex, opening me like a moist flower. Lips engulf my pussy, sucking, tasting, enticing blood-filled lips to open. Then the relentless lapping starts. First on me, then inside, drinking my essence. At the same time, the finger at my throat continues its downward path, tracing diagonally across my chest to draw circles around my nipple. The areola puckers as my nipple hardens. Another finger, another hand, joins in teasing my other nipple. The hands at my breasts are strong – masculine. Warm lips surround a nipple, sucking the hard nubbin into the play of teeth and tongue. My breasts begin to ache, made worse by the relentless nibbling of my nipples. Warmth spreads across my body.

  My sex turns to liquid as the tongue delves deeper. The eagerness of its plunder making me rock in the harness. Occasionally, the tongue plays over my clitoris, only to leave me wanting. My lack of control is maddening. I feel a finger slide between the moist folds to enter. The digit begins to thrust in and out in counterpoint with my hips, making me rock more. The tongue nags my clitoris. I let out a moan I have been trying to hold back, trying to deprive them of the satisfaction of my easy capitulation. The mouth on my breasts nips more harshly. Another finger joins the first in my pussy. The mouth on my nipple leaves a moist trail towards my neck. Both hands begin pinching my nipples. Despite my resolve, I begin to lose control. Little high-pitched gasps escape from behind my gag. Soon they turn into moans. ‘More,’ I say, my muffled words barely recognisable. I am breathy, needy. Another finger joins those already in my pussy, stretching me deliciously. I feel an orgasm rising. The force coiling deep inside me. Fingers move more quickly, forcefully. The mouth sliding over my throat bites, sucking like a vampire to stifle my cries. The hands at my breasts pinch and twist my nipples. The mouth on my clitoris tugs hard with cruel teeth. The fingers in me piston hard; they start to finger-fuck me frantically. The first convulsion of my orgasm hits, my hands and legs straining against the leather cuffs holding them wide – back arched, neck stretched, breasts aching with the sharp pain radiating from my nipples. Behind the lids of my blindfolded eyes, explosions of colour splash across the dark screen of my vision.

  Yet, the relief is an instant only. A heartbeat. The mouth on my sex releases its hold on my clitoris. Fingers slowly slip out of me. I moan softly as the teeth at my neck release and the mouth moves away. My nipples ache more once they release the pinching pressure. I draw in deep, deep breaths. I spend eons shivering in the darkness, or so it seems. I rest the best I can, my mind full of regrets ...

  The Paradise Club became my second home. Paul, an alpha male saw fit to claim me as his own. He reminds me of my station with the tang of his whip. I adore him in return. I never realised I was a natural submissive until I met Paul. He taught me control and discipline. Mostly discipline. I tried my hardest to please him, to make him happy, but he always found fault somewhere – with the way I dressed, with my wayward behaviour, or most damning of all, with my eagerness to please. Finally, he gave up and abandoned me. In my desperation, I sold my self-respect and became the Paradise Club‘s whipping girl. For the price of a little attention, I became a willing partner. I still don‘t know why I just didn‘t walk away. I tried several times, but always I felt an irresistible compulsion to return.

  Something wakes me. Behind the flickering candlelight, something stirs in the darkness. Hungry whispers call to me. I open my eyes, slowly become aware of my surroundings. I feel weak, physically and emotionally drained. How long will they keep me imprisoned like this? I tug ineffectually at the leather restraints. Chains rattle above and below, echoing in the emptiness. I swing gently in the oppressive darkness. ‘You can let me go now!’ No one answers, yet I can feel a presence. Hairs on the nape of my neck rise. ‘Please, let me go.‘

  Hands gently bush along my body. Three? Four? Five? Barely touching the skin, more hands trace the line of my leg. Another begins to trail across my breasts, the skin softer, and the nails longer. A woman, but I can‘t be certain. I am never certain. A soft feminine mouth begins to lick, suck and bite my breasts. The flesh of my chest and throat, already flushed, starts to burn. Roughened male hands slide higher up the inside of my thighs. Fingers easily slide between the lips of my sex, still moist from my last orgasm. It doesn‘t take long for the inquisitive fingers to bring forth more moisture and heat as they play along the lips, as they tease my clitoris. A finger takes juices from my pussy, spreading backwards, before the finger pushes at the entrance to my anus. As the tip of the errant finger stretches me, the feeling of a tongue on my clitoris acts as a distraction. In no time, I am pushing against the finger, swallowing the digit as the owner‘s tongue works at my clit. I am unable to hold back the rising tide, moaning and thrashing as much as my bonds allow. This time, as my orgasm starts to overwhelm me, the mouth on my breasts departs and I feel a harsh stinging lash on my right breast. I cry out, my anus clenching around the finger. They reward me with another lash of the flogger, this time to my left breast.

  The finger in my anus slowly withdraws. The mouths dissolve, leaving my nipples throbbing, my clitoris bleating and exposed. There is no fade. The glow continues long after the unseen have abandoned th
eir twitching plaything. My eyes open wide when I feel a warm intrusion between my legs. An anonymous cock probes at the entrance to my sex, demanding admission. It won‘t take no for an answer! It nudges, shifts, and teases apart my bloated lips, and then slowly the hard flesh slips inside. It is hungry, eager to claim me. I gasp, crying out as the hardness fills me. The stiffness stretching my heated flesh, forcing me to take its girth, its length. My pussy engulfs the cock, swallowing greedily. I hold my breath in anticipation, though there is little delay before the fucking begins. Slowly at first. Measured strokes to show its dominance. Then, gradually faster, harder, shorter, until there is no telling one stroke from the next! A bony pelvis mashes against my sensitive clitoris, still high and proud from my last orgasm. It reacts to the brutality, inducing steady waves of ecstasy that make it hard for me to maintain any rhythm. Orgasms ripple through me, each longer, each more intense than the last. I am dying in pain, dying of pleasure!

  Suddenly, a mouth is back at my slender throat, biting, sucking, drawing my lifeblood to the surface. Another is on my mouth, stealing my breath, filling me with a thick probing tongue. Rough fingers cruelly pinch my nipples. The pain keeps me from slipping away. The cock slams into me. Impossibly large. Impossibly hard. It‘s pounding relentless. The pleasure is too much, all too much! I am too fragile to take this beating, much too fragile. Surely, another orgasm, already building low and deep, will shatter me. Back arched, I thrusts hips forward, meeting the onslaught. It is a collision of tectonic proportion. My whole body stiffens from the inside out as I brace for the coming explosion. The cock erupts, deep, violent, filling my cunt with burning lava. The force of the shockwaves takes me by surprise, overpower my senses. A scream builds in the back of my throat. It is barely unleashed before the darkness explodes into brilliant white light. My eyes roll, my eyelids flutter and finally I slip into a blissful unconsciousness.