Twisted

by Alison Tyler

  As they played, the rain picked up, washing over them like a great, warm wave, isolating Ellie even further from what might pass as reality. Was the house still there? Did she even care? Lost in sensation, she had trouble comprehending when Zeke said, “The way you’ve stuck your ass out, you have a puddle at the base of your spine.” She couldn’t imagine what he meant until he bent over and licked rainwater out of the hollow of her arched back.

  She shuddered and mewled. The rain was warm and so was the air, but in comparison, Zeke’s tongue was shockingly hot as he licked and kissed up her spine. His cock pressed against her, seeking entrance. She widened her stance, and the movement reminded her how her ankle was secured, though Zeke had left plenty of play in that tether. Zeke whispered something else, but it was lost behind rain and the blood rushing to her head. “Yes,” she moaned, though she didn’t know what question she answered.

  Zeke knew what she meant, though. Zeke always knew, even if she didn’t know herself. He entered her, driving hard, like the rain drove into the earth, his hands clasping her hips, pulling her back against him so while he took her, she was taking him. Each thrust moved her so she felt the ropes again, reminded her that she was tied. Each thrust splashed rainwater as the warm deluge sluiced over them. Fire shot through her, countering all that water, balancing it. She swore her skin steamed. Her cunt clasped on Zeke’s cock, so solid amid all the water. Rain and rope, rope and rain, and Zeke’s strength, Zeke’s persistence, Zeke’s determination that had kept the farm and Ellie going during the drought and now was turned to their mutual pleasure.

  Zeke slid one hand from her hip to her clit, wet fingers spiraling on that even slicker nub.

  Ellie detonated so hard she thought briefly the light behind her eyelids was lightning, thought the explosion in her pussy and her blood might be thunder. But lightning ended almost instantly, and thunder rumbled for only a few seconds. This bright roar went on and on, as her body burst apart into light and reformed over and over again on the centering points of rope and cock and the rain that reminded her of the outlines of her skin, the edges, now blurred, that separated her from Zeke. She was crying out, not Zeke’s name or even “Oh, god,” but strange, guttural cries that didn’t seem so strange against the drumming of the rain, and her body was trembling, and still, she was coming.

  Just when she thought it was over, like a violent but brief cloudburst, Zeke surged into her. His grip tightened, though his fingers scrambled a bit for purchase on her wet skin. Zeke was a quiet comer but the force of this orgasm shook Ellie and set her off again.

  Before he untied her, Zeke gently pushed Ellie’s sodden hair off her face, gave her a soft kiss.

  “Still raining,” he whispered. “Looks like the drought’s really broken.”

  “It sure has.” Half-dazed as she was, Ellie still managed to grin.

  JUSTICE

  Sadey Quinn

  You put money in, and you choose a setting,” he explained, sliding a crisp ten-dollar bill into the machine.

  I kept my eyes on her as he fiddled with the controls. She was bound to a metal stool by thick, white straps. Her arms and legs were spread and tied to the ceiling and floor, respectively. Her jet-black hair was damp with sweat, clinging to her shoulders. Mascara ran a little around her eyes and looked sexy as hell. I wanted to touch her but there were two panes of glass between us and her naked body. I couldn’t help but imagine it was me, not her, tied to the machine.

  She lit up, like she’d been shocked, and let out a low, steady moan. I turned to him. “What’d you do?”

  “She has a plug in her ass,” he explained. “And one in her pussy. That white piece of fabric, right there?” He pointed to her cunt and I nodded; I saw it. “That’s right on her clit. There’s clear tape holding electrodes against her nipples, too.”

  I surveyed her body and saw the very faint lines of the edges of the tape. She shivered and convulsed slightly. Her eyes glazed over and a faint smile crossed her lips before she sighed happily.

  “So, I paid for her to feel intermittent vibration in her ass for the next five minutes. You want to try?”

  He stepped aside and pointed to the controls. I shrugged, and dug into my pocket for a ten. I slid it in, but it was rejected, crinkled and used compared to his. Trying again, it went in, and I looked down at the panel.

  “I can spank her?” I asked.

  He grinned. “You can’t. But you can direct it. Press the button and a number. You can do up to seven for ten dollars. Twenty, with twenty bucks.”

  I nearly rolled my eyes at the absurdity of it all, but obediently pressed the button, then chose THREE. I watched as the machine forcibly bent her forward, the straps holding her arms and legs supporting her weight. The plug went with her, and I clenched my own asscheeks, imagining how uncomfortable it would be to be spanked with a butt plug inside me. Her eyes looked out at us, and though I knew she couldn’t see us through the one-sided glass, she did know we were there. Watching her. Coordinating her torture. She looked worried and I couldn’t blame her.

  A metal robotic arm appeared from the right wall and magnetically picked up a long wooden paddle with a metal handle. The woman cringed in anticipation.

  “Does she know how many she’ll get?” I asked.

  “Nope.”

  “She seems scared.”

  “Rightfully so.”

  I shot a sideways glance in his direction. He stared forward, sadistically entranced by the scene.

  The robotic arm brought the paddle down once, hard, against her bubbly posterior. I watched through the mirrored walls as her flesh moved around the impact of that paddle, as she shook her cute little ass, and then we both jumped slightly when we heard her cry out.

  “Oh! Fuck!”

  Once more, the paddle swatted her butt.

  “No! Oh, please!”

  Who was she begging, exactly?

  And the third time, the sound of the wood against her skin reverberating through the observation area. Her moans followed.

  “Intensity goes up?” I asked, watching as she was maneuvered back into position on the stool.

  “Yeah. You have money left.”

  He was eager for more, but I was eager to prolong things for my sake and hers. I looked behind me and saw the line was even longer.

  “They’ll all take a turn with her?”

  “No. Check the clock, see?” He pointed to a digital timer just above the control kiosk. “Forty minutes left. Then the next convict gets a turn.”

  Surveying the options in front of me, I chose what I’d be desperate for, if I were in her shoes. Three-minute vibration on her clitoris.

  He chuckled beside me, shaking his head. “You’re evil.”

  I looked at him quizzically, then cringed as the woman screamed.

  “No!” she shouted, convulsing against the bondage, clearly trying to get away.

  “I thought she would enjoy it,” I gasped.

  In under thirty seconds, she came fast, forcibly, and whimpered loudly as the buzzing continued.

  “No...no...no...” she kept saying.

  God, she was so fucking hot.

  He slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me close as we watched her come again, her body trembling, her moans and pleas never ending.

  “How many times do you think she’s come today?” he asked.

  I shook my head. My breathing was shallow and at that moment I wanted nothing more than to switch places with her, to be tortured so terribly. So sexually.

  By the time the buzzing stopped, she’d come four times. We stepped aside and the next person, a stout bald man with a thick wallet, stepped forward and slipped in a fifty-dollar bill. I wanted to stay and watch her torment but he pulled me away, up the stairs and out to the street.

  “Can’t we go back and watch more?” I asked, shielding my eyes from the light.

  “No.”

  I pretended to pout and he pulled me toward him, grabbing my ass hard, and looked do
wn into my eyes. “That was foreplay, babe.” He kissed me urgently and my knees buckled. I grasped his shoulders for support.

  “You’ll do things to me...things like that?” I whispered as he broke away and tugged me toward his car.

  He only smiled and opened the passenger door. “Get in. We’re going to my place.”

  DARKNESS AND LIGHT

  Sophia Valenti

  Dana couldn’t understand why I’d dumped Roger. The breakup had happened last month, but she still couldn’t let it go.

  “He’s the perfect guy!” she exclaimed. “The total package.”

  I wasn’t going to try to explain myself—again. But for some reason, that most likely being the tequila, I started to speak.

  “That all depends on what your idea of the total package is.” Dana cocked her head, looking a little drunk and a lot confused. “Sure, he was handsome and sweet—”

  “And what’s wrong with that!”

  “He was too...nice.” The word hung in the air, only adding to her confusion. But I wasn’t referring to the fact that Roger always held the door and paid for dinner. I was talking about the polite missionary-position sex he favored, and that I did not.

  I looked at my friend, who was the epitome of vanilla. Sure, she and I had dished about our dates, but always in the most general terms, like if a guy was good in bed. We’d never defined “good,” but I knew what my version of good meant: someone who was very, very bad—a guy who’d take me to dark, sexy places where I could leave every earthly care behind. Once upon a time, I’d hoped that would be Roger, but I learned soon enough that wasn’t the case.

  One night, after he’d asked what he could do for me in bed, I’d suggested that we try something more daring. He looked as confused as Dana did now, and when I started to talk about handcuffs and blindfolds, he shut me down. We weren’t the type of people who did those things, he told me. I stopped speaking; there was nothing left to say. Because deep down I knew I was one of those people, and he clearly was not.

  That was the beginning of the end.

  The end of the end came after my first night with Graham, a man who was as affectionate as I could have ever hoped for, yet was as intensely dominant as I craved. I was never one to dream of white knights. The dark ones were the only sort that had ever invaded my fantasies, and Graham fit that description to a T.

  I realized that Dana was still staring at me, her big blue eyes searching for an answer.

  “I just liked things that Roger didn’t,” I offered as an explanation, hoping that would be enough to satisfy her, but it wasn’t.

  “Like what?”

  Figuring she was too drunk to judge—and probably too drunk to remember what I’d say—I didn’t hold back.

  “Like being bound and blindfolded.” I felt my cheeks go hot.

  Fortunately, Dana seemed more confused than offended. “I don’t know why anyone would want to be blindfolded,” she said with a shake of her head, making her blonde curls bounce around her face. “I mean, when it’s dark, all you see is nothing!”

  Nothing? I opened my mouth to answer, but I stopped myself. I knew she’d never understand, and in an instant, my mind drifted back to that night with Graham—the night that changed everything.

  I work in public relations, and while many of my fellow journalism school graduates scoff at the notion, I love it. I like meeting new people, making connections and spreading the word about people and things I’m passionate about. The agency had been pretty traditional, however, and the owner recently decided we needed to move into the twenty-first century. While we had a fabulous client list, we were quaint and old-fashioned in that we were neglecting the potential of social media, which is why my boss hired Graham as a consultant.

  I was looking forward to hearing what advice he had for us, but my expectations ended there. I will admit that I had a preconceived notion of who would show up at my office. I was expecting a scruffy twentysomething who was fresh out of college. Graham was nothing of the sort, but there was indeed much he had to teach me.

  Tall and broad, Graham looked stunning in his exquisitely tailored suit. With his dark eyes and wavy black hair, he looked more like an action-movie hero than an executive. During our first meeting, he laid out his roadmap for implementing social-media strategies, and I was impressed with his thorough proposal and sensible advice. He was charismatic and personable, his take-charge nature buoyed by his confidence and intelligence. I felt drawn to him in a way I’d never before been to another man.

  Graham and I worked together closely over the next two weeks, and while the days flew by, my nights were slow to pass. I’d lie wide-awake on the pristine white cotton sheets that Roger favored as my mind wandered into dangerous territory. I’d recall Graham’s muscular body, so temptingly close to mine as he stood behind me and leaned over my shoulder to point out something on my computer screen. The way his deep brown eyes would linger on me a second too long made me wonder if he was having the same late-night fantasies that I was—ones that involved Graham taking control of me, and delivering whatever pleasure or pain he thought I deserved. I pictured him using his colorful silk neckties to bind me facedown on his bed, pulling his thick leather belt out of its loops, and making me beg to be punished.

  I wanted it—I wanted it all. To be bound and blindfolded and whipped until I came. I was scared and nervous, and incredibly aroused. Just thinking about it was enough to make my pussy flood. I also felt guilty, like I’d somehow cheated on Roger when all I’d done was let my sleep-deprived mind run free. But not so guilty that I didn’t reach a hand inside my panties, find the swollen knob of my clit and rub myself until I climaxed, all the while thinking of Graham.

  I tried to tell myself that these were just crazy dreams, that I was merely inserting Graham into these scenarios because he and I were spending so much time together. But they weren’t dreams, and I wasn’t asleep—though I realized I’d been going through the motions in my daily life as though I were. There had to be more, and that didn’t involve settling for someone who couldn’t accept me for who I was.

  As the days had passed, the easygoing rapport I had with Graham had been edging ever closer to outright flirtation. I found myself admiring his fit figure, my mind tumbling into intermittent fantasies about him pressing me up against a wall and having his way with me. When I thought he wasn’t looking, I’d let my gaze drop to the leather belt at his waist. It looked thick and supple, and to anyone else it was simply a fashion accessory. But thanks to my filthy dreams, it was so much more.

  By his last day at work, that little spark between us was ready to flare into an out-of-control inferno.

  At five o’clock, Graham switched off his laptop, declaring me ready to take the reins. I smiled, but inside I was conflicted. I didn’t want him to leave.

  As if he heard my thoughts, Graham reached out and took my hand in his.

  “Although my contract is up, I don’t think my work here is done.” Graham stroked his thumb along the back of my hand as he spoke, and I felt tingles shoot straight to my cunt. The implication of his unsaid words sent delicious shivers through my body.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Have dinner with me.” It wasn’t a question. It was more like a declaration of fact.

  I called Roger to let him know I’d be working late. He didn’t seem to mind. After all, he reminded me, he had to turn in early to make his eight a.m. tee-time at the club.

  Graham escorted me out of the office building with a possessive hand on the small of my back. I could feel the heat of his palm through the fabric of my dress. The sensation made me long to feel his flesh against my own. He’d yet to say anything sexual, but it was clear from the beginning where the night would end—in his apartment, in his bed.

  Graham hailed us a cab, directing the driver to bring us to a trendy restaurant I’d seen mentioned in the gossip pages but at which I had never dined. After an effusive greeting from the hostess, we were whisked away to a smal
l private dining room, where Graham ordered for both of us. I let him. I liked that he seemed set on taking care of every last detail, on taking care of me. I wanted that. It seemed like I spent so much of my days working on everyone else’s behalf. I reveled in the notion that I could simply stop and be nothing but the object of one handsome man’s total attention.

  The dinner was decadent and rich. Graham took every opportunity to hold my hand or stroke my cheek. I barely touched my wine; I was already dizzy with lust from being in such an intimate setting with the object of my fantasies.

  “Now that we’re no longer working together, I feel I can be more honest,” Graham said, his voice having taken on a slightly husky tone.

  “About what?”

  “About how much I want you.”

  I looked away, feeling shy and overwhelmed.

  “I have a boyfriend,” I said unconvincingly.

  “But he’s not enough for you—otherwise you wouldn’t be here with me.”

  Graham was right, and that’s why I went home with him.

  He was on me the second his door shut. Grabbing the back of my head, Graham tangled his fingers in my ebony curls and held me still for a brutally intense kiss. He fisted the hair at the nape of my neck and gave it a tug, sparking a flash of pain that made me gasp into his open mouth. He thrust his tongue between my parted lips, claiming me with his kiss, keeping me breathless and on edge as he walked me backward toward his bedroom.

  Swiftly and efficiently, Graham stripped me of my work clothes, until there was nothing left for me to hide behind.

  The look of raw hunger on his face made my pussy pulse. I felt truly wanted for the first time in my life. My heart was beating wildly and adrenaline rushed through my veins, but there was no place I’d rather have been.