Quickies: A Collection of Short Fantasies

by Abigail Grey

  The dress was red, that's for sure. Red like a stoplight, red like her lipstick... red like a handprint on a creamy white ass. The top hugged her tits and shoulders, falling to a skirt that would be modest if it wasn't hugging her legs every time she moved and fluttering up if she turned too quickly. Her body was just the right kind of curvy, with a waist that begged for an arm to curl around it and pull her close. Dark hair flirted with the curves of her face, the curls loose. He wasn't close enough to see her eyes, but they weren't lined in that godawful black that most girls layered on with paint brushes.

  His response to her had been instant. He felt himself get hard behind the fly of his jeans and he could feel the pounding of his blood in the veins at his neck and in his cock. His muscles were tense now, watching her. He took a long draw off his beer when he saw another man dance in behind her. They both took in the sinuous sway of her hips. The other man reached out and gripped her hips, stepping close behind her.

  Her brows furrowed. Her movements became jerky, clear that he was trying to move her to his own rhythm. Jack's spine straightened, a resolve to step in forming before he saw her roll her eyes quite clearly. The other man couldn't see it. Jack's lips quirked in a slight smile as he watched her "accidentally" elbow him in a soft spot of his torso. She turned to the stranger and mouthed what Jack knew, but couldn't hear, must be apologies. She stepped away from the other man, moving toward the bar.

  Jack watched her walk closer, her hips making the skirt brush her legs like a lover might. And he suddenly didn't want to be a lover for her; he wanted to push her over, spread her legs and be an amazing night.

  She leaned across the bar, her voice raised to the bartender to be heard in the clamor of the bar. Not more than two tables away, Jack still couldn't hear her over the thumping dance music. She cracked open the bottle of water as the bartender handed it to her. Jack stared as she reached into the bodice of her dress, her fingers brushing the curve of her breast as she pulled out a thin bundle of bills. After handing one over, she tucked them back and gulped at the cool water.

  The song changed, something sultry and bass-heavy booming through the room. She smiled, leaving the half-empty water bottle on the bar as she made her way back to the dance floor. Jack noted as she passed by the table that her eyes, lit up with the joy of what she was about to do, were whiskey-colored and easy to get drunk on.

  He set his beer on the table behind him and walked away from the group of guys he walked in with. Peripherally he noticed their surprise and heard their questions. He followed her to the floor.

  She was in the center of the gyrating crowd. He could see her looking at those who danced around her, seeming to feed off the energy they exuded. Her motions were fluid and smooth, working through her entire body. Her hips would roll, her knees bending, and her arms would find their way up to lift her hair from the back of her neck. Her feet caught the beat, tapping out a complicated rhythm heard only by her. Until he learned it. He edged closer to her, his feet working the same Latin-inspired step. Front to back and to the side, over and over, he realized the tip of his hips would match hers. His eyes stayed on her feet. He noticed the height of her heels and realized she was still shorter than him, even in those spikes. The steps looked graceful when completed by her dainty shoes. The shoes began to turn, spinning until the toes faced him.

  Jack glanced up with a smile. He tried to keep the step going, knowing she was noticing. Her gaze was open and assessing. Slowly, watching his feet, and watching him watch her feet, she began to smile. She made a gesture with her hands for him to keep going. And her feet changed. Now she mirrored him, stepping closer so that each movement made her skirt brush his thigh. Her face turned to the side, too close now to meet his eyes. Jack watched her eyelashes flutter against her cheek and her lips, still moist from the water she drank, parted on an exhale. His arm wrapped around her waist and dragged her against him boldly. Her eyes met his then and he could see the greens flecks in the amber, surrounded by eyelashes that couldn't possibly be that long and dark. His eyes narrowed as her step faltered.

  The song changed. Slowly her hips began to move again to this new beat. Jack turned her, his hips cradling her ass. He rested his hands lightly on her hips, but did not move beyond it. Her face turned, glancing at him over her shoulder. She let her body roll, his hands simply flowing with her, not pressuring her to move against him. She began to dance with abandon then, her body nudging his and rubbing against his thighs.

  A low growl emanated from Jack's throat. She spun out of his hands, one of her own trailing along the waistband of his pants as she twisted and turned around him. She put her back to his for a moment, using him as a wall that she slid down for a moment before the pressure disappeared.

  He turned to see her weaving through the crowd. When she reached the edge of the dance floor, she looked back at him. A small twitch of her lips invited him to follow. He didn't try to mimic her grace as she dodged the other bar patrons. He did little more than push people out of the way, trailing her as she stayed ten feet in front of him. She ducked into a dark hallway that he knew led to the restrooms. Gaining on her, he saw her continue past the doors lit with signs for men and women. As they rounded the next corner, he caught her, gripping her arm to press her against the wall. He crashed into her, his body pressing against her, hip to thigh to chest. His other hand gripped her jaw as his mouth met hers.

  The kissing was hot. She was a flirt, her tongue sliding along his lip and biting lightly. Her breathing rasped in his ear as he dragged his teeth along her neck. His grip loosened on her arm, only to renew as he grasped her breast through the silky fabric of the dress.

  Her hips began to move again, leading him to pull at the skirt. He got it up to her waist, pinning it there between them. Her panties were lace. He traced his hand over the edge, over her hip and down to where they rode high on the curve of her ass. Digging his fingers in, he lifted it slightly, leading her to spread her legs for balance. His lips punished hers again, demanding her tongue with his. He let his fingers graze over where she was wet. He looped one finger into her panties, a knuckle brushing her opening. She hissed a breath in, her muscles tensing slightly. He pulled the panties to the side, his other hand undoing his own pants. Her hands gripped his shoulders, sharp nails cutting in even through his shirt. He took his cock, hard enough to break glass it felt like, and positioned himself at the wet pussy before him. He arched his hips, feeling her open around him.

  Her head tipped back and he felt her position change, her body arching out as she rose to her tiptoes. His arms went around her waist, holding her in place until he was balls deep in her clutching cunt. He stayed buried as her nails scratched at his back. Her breath came jerkily and he was aware of consciously trying to control his.

  One of her legs hitched high on his hip, pulling him deeper when she wound it around his thigh. Game on. He drew out and drove back in hard, pushing her back against the wall each time he thrust into her. She started to move her hips the way she was on the dance floor and Jack's vision went fuzzy. The growl rose in him again as he felt her pussy begin to flutter around his dick. He pounded into her faster and harder. She bit down on the muscle at his collarbone and he could hear her muffled squeal as he felt the rush of warmth dripping down his cock. Her hole convulsed around him, drawing his balls up tight as he came inside her wet pussy.

  Jack dropped his forehead onto her shoulder, breathing hard. After a moment of silence, she fidgeted. He stood up, carefully extricating himself from her. He watched her reposition her panties and the thought of his cum seeping out of her made his dick twitch again. He tucked it away, fixing his pants and shirt to cover the traces of wetness she had left on him. A small smile curved her lips as she winked and left him standing there.

  Broken

  Leather encased her hands and wrists, stretching her body to the brink of pain. Her toes grazed the floor, occasionally catching her to slow the swing of her body. The beam she hung from was sturdy, the
chain thick. Unintelligible noise came from behind the bit gag that held her lips open.

  She could see the shadow on the wall move as he circled. She screamed as she saw the motion, saw the strap fall, felt the skin erupt in flame. It fell twice more across her back and her ass. Her body swung again from the force. She kicked slightly, trying to stretch her toes to stop the swaying, trying to end the stress on her shoulders. The strap caught her again across her back, the end licking the side of her breast. A cry bubbled out of her, her body jerking in response. Her body turned slightly in the bonds, the next lash catching her thigh.

  Her next outcry caught on a sob. She raised her throbbing leg, attempting to bend her knee to her chest, trying to remove it from the pain he insisted on giving. His next blow landed on her hips, then on the other thigh. She dropped her knee, moaning at the added stress on her arms as she twitched and jerked in response to each sharp smack of the leather strap.

  She could feel the tears running down her cheeks. She knew her face was red. The gag bit into the corners of her mouth and shame filled her as she realized she could no longer keep the drool from seeping out of her stretched lips. She turned her face into her arm.

  Her head was yanked back, eyes to the ceiling, by his hand in her hair. His body pressed against her side, his breath in her ear as his hand brushed over her naked tits.

  She held her breath, sure he was going to speak, to tell her why he wanted this. His fingers traced over her, catching on her nipple. He plumped one breast, cupping it gently in his hand before he bent his head to her. His lips drew gently on her nipple, his tongue coaxing it, laving it with attention. She squirmed, but with a new intent.

  His teeth closed. Hard. A scream boiled out of her, the tears stinging her eyes again. Her foot kicked out at him, trying to dislodge him. He backed away, raining fresh blows onto her back.

  She stared at the ceiling and screamed with each lick of fire. Her head dropped forward when he ceased. Her joints were screaming and she closed her eyes to the sight of the spit that dripped from her gagged mouth onto the floor.

  His hand grabbed her ass cheek. Agony blossomed in her, enhancing the throbbing in her tormented skin. His long fingers squeezed. She sobbed quietly. His other hand cupped her as well, spreading her cheeks. She groaned and bucked, her bound arms flexing and tightening. A finger found her hole, pressing at an unforgiving angle. Her head shook back and forth, the dark hair fanning behind her with her vehemence.

  One hand released its grip, winding her hair around his hand. He yanked again, baring her neck. His finger penetrated her as his teeth sunk into her tender muscle. Another scream was wrenched from her lips, her entire body tightening. He released her hair, holding her now with his teeth and the finger that moved inside her. He tenderly ran his free hand over her now: her throat to her breasts, over her stomach and her inner thigh. He parted her thighs with his strong hand, two fingers delving into the warmth between her legs. His tongue rasped over the marks his teeth left before he bit down again. His fingers drove into her pussy, lifting her momentarily with the force. He beckoned inside her, driving his fingers against the sweet spot. She relaxed, until he pressed a second finger to her ass.

  He played her like an instrument. The drum against her g-spot kept her attention as his fingers stretched out the tight ring of her asshole. The sob was still in her vocalizations as he worked her back and forth on his fingers. She felt it creep up on her and she fought it, tensing and trying to keep the rising tide of her orgasm from breaking over his hand. His persistence won, as it always would, and she shattered before him, sagging further.

  He removed his fingers then and she sighed, praying that it would be over. And the fire started again. She screamed as he layered stripe after stripe on her, this time moving to her front as well. The lash bit at her tits, laid across her tender stomach, strapping her from armpits to ankles. She began to mumble behind the gag. She begged him to stop. She pleaded for mercy. The whimpers seemed to fall on deaf ears. Her noises seemed to affect him somehow for the lashes fell faster. She let out a keening whine.

  It stopped and he was on her immediately, the rough denim of his jeans abrading the sensitive flesh it contacted. His arms held her tight to him for a moment before she felt him move behind her, undoing the fly. His fingers brushed through the crack of her ass, leaving it wet and her tears flowed faster. She sucked breath around the gag in short, jerky bursts.

  His cock pressed against her ass. Her eyes squeezed closed as he pushed in, unforgiving in his pace. His hands gripping the stripes along her hips propelled her on and off his dick. She let her head fall forward again, a rag doll in his hold now. She didn't even attempt to reach the floor with her toes. The tears blurring her vision didn't allow her to see the redness of her legs and torso. His hand found its way to her throat, using further leverage to bury his cock deep in her.

  She felt the jerking and warmth inside her after an interminable amount of time. She felt him extract himself and step away. She hung loosely, all her pain seeming to meld together into one mass of defeat. His finger caught under her chin, lifting it slightly. She stared at him from glassy eyes.

  A decadently soft blanket wrapped around her, shielding her tender skin from his rough jeans. He held her close, unbuckling the restraints deftly and taking her weight as she fell. He lifted her into his arms, murmuring soft syllables that she couldn't decipher. She began to tremble, her entire body quaking as the tears resumed.

  He laid her on a soft cushion of pillows and blankets, stretching his body out next to her. He pulled her close, her cheek to his chest and over his heart. His hand petted down her body. She hissed as the blanket shifted over her swollen skin. Her eyes closed, her breathing slowing to match the thump of his heart under her ear. His fingers combed through her hair.

  When she stopped shaking, he pressed his lips briefly to her temple. She smiled as she heard his rough voice whisper to her:

  "Good girl."

  Good Rope

  In.

  I stood as still as I could, in front of the couch. His hands grazed gently down my arms and back up again.

  Out.

  The rope rested on the back of my neck. My eyes were closed, relaxed as he rubbed warmth into my limbs.

  In.

  He wound the rope around my left arm, encasing it simply before pulling it gently behind me and mimicking the motion with the other half on my right.

  Out.

  He bent my arms at the elbows, laying them together behind my back. The wrists were bound to the opposite biceps, the rope yanked tight to lock them in place.

  In.

  He nudged me to sit in front of the couch. He sat behind me, his hand stroking my hair and neck. The sound of the television continued as he lounged, my cheek leaning against his knee.

  Out.

  I drifted. I was aware of the constricting wrap of the rope, but when my eyes opened, I focused on nothing in the carpet in front of me.

  In.

  I didn't keep track of the time. I knew it was passing but had no concept by which to measure it.

  Out.

  He helped me to stand again, releasing my arms. He took off the sweater I wore out of respect for the weather outside our doors. I stood before him in my camisole and jeans when he drew my arms out from my sides. He wrapped a thick length of rope around my waist, repeating the tie at the back until the heavy rope appeared to coil around my torso, hugging tight.

  In.

  He pulled my hands together in front of me, my palms meeting. Another rope encased my wrists. It looped over my thumbs, immobilizing my hands in semblance of prayer. The rope continued to wind up my arms until, at my elbows, it was tied to the front of my body piece. My arms were now stationary in front of me, endlessly praying for something. I hoped I would receive it, whatever it was.

  Out.

  I was assisted to the floor again. He arranged my legs in front of me, feet to the floor and knees raised. My elbows rested on the tops of my kn
ees, limiting the curve of my back.

  In.

  The tie started at my ankles, binding them together tightly. Another length of rope crossed over my knees and wound into the tie that kept my elbows in place. Perched precisely in position, my eyelids heavy, I continued to stare at the carpet, my vision fuzzy even as my breath became almost hyper-focused. I was aware of the cool feeling of it entering me. My eyes drifted closed and I breathed.

  Out.

  My head bent down, my chin nearly to my chest. I felt the stretch all the way down my back. I heard him sit behind me again. His hand again slid over my hair, over the expanse of my neck, shoulders and upper back. He pressed gently, helping the release of tension from my muscles.

  In.

  I felt the heaviness start in my fingertips. I shifted slightly, feeling the rope rubbing over the cloth of my shirt. My brow furrowed as my concentration began to leave me.

  Out.

  I heard him stand, felt his hand press my head down to keep that stretching feeling present. My head rested against the curve of my wrist, hands grazing the top of my head. A rush of air was all I heard before I felt the thick leather strands fall with a crack across the stretched muscles. My eyes opened as slowly as the smile spread over my lips. And I breathed.

  In.

  The Babysitter

  Catherine Walker slid out of her car, dragging her full laptop case, messenger bag, and file folders across the front seat with her. Juggling the load with practiced movements, she managed to open the door without dropping any of them.