by Selena Kitt
“Ow! Audrey, honey, I’ve never cheated on you…”
I spanked him again. Hard.
“And I never would.”
Smack.
Why should I believe that? My muscles trembled until I let loose on Lawrence’s sweet ass. Five, six, seven times? I lost count. When I saw how red his bottom was, I stopped. Maybe I was hurting him more than I intended, and more than I ought.
Reaching up to his head, I petted just above his neck as something of a peace offering. Lawrence was like a puppy—he liked to be scratched behind the ears. Digging into his skin a touch, I dragged my nails down his back, leaving thin red lines all the way down to his tender ass. I leaned low, writhing against him so the smooth leather of my black bustier could salve his burning flesh. Reaching under, I grabbed Lawrence’s squishy balls and he inhaled sharply. He thought I was playing nice, that all was forgiven. Not bloody likely. I sank my teeth into his ass with full force, leaving two red semi-circles in my wake. Lawrence shrieked and jerked forward. But, hey, he had it coming.
“What are you doing to me?” he cried.
“Giving you what you deserve,” I said, tugging the belt from his Dockers. He didn’t say to stop. Folding the brown leather in two, I pulled the belt taut and it released a resounding crack. I could have whipped him right away, but I knew it would be more fun to generate suspense. Besides, all the domination had my pussy crying out for attention.
Making my way behind the sofa in the middle of my living room, I raised a leg up and over Lawrence’s shoulder, holding the wretched villain in place. His mouth was perfectly aligned with my cunt, and I laced my makeshift whip around the back of his head. “Eat me, cochon,” I commanded.
Lawrence licked my sensitive pussy lips through the lace of my thong. The wetness of his mouth mingled with my juices, making the area into a sopping mess. I could tell my clit was engorged, because I could feel Lawrence’s warm tongue against it even through my underwear. I couldn’t bear the resistance anymore. I instructed Lawrence to shift my thong out of the way.
“But my hands are tied,” he whined.
“So use your nose, emmerdeur!”
I laughed inwardly as my partner of four years nudged my thong out of the way. He licked my pussy lips like a frightened animal.
“Not good enough!” I scolded, unfolding the leather belt. Raising it into the air, I held it up before finally working up the nerve to strike. When I cast it down against Lawrence’s back, the maudit whip didn’t even make contact. It just flipped to the side. I tried again. Same thing. Really annoying! I was trying to maintain a certain mystique and that belt was not co-operating. But third time’s a charm, and when I whipped him once again, the leather landed soundly against his back. He flinched, exhaling warm air against my hot cunt. It must have hurt him, but not very much. Not enough, I should say.
Next time, I didn’t lift the belt so high into the air. I flipped it up and back down in one quick motion. The whip cracked with a heart-palpitating swish against my slave’s back. That got him moving. The little licks he’d issued against my pussy lips turned into hard, lingering laps of my juice.
“How does that taste?” I asked.
“Mmm…” he mumbled.
I struck Lawrence’s back with the whip. That’ll learn him.
“Delicious,” he corrected himself.
“That’s right. Now kiss my cunt.”
Lawrence gave my clit a peck. That’s not what I meant. I whipped him again. His back was getting red now.
“Kiss it with your tongue, putain de chien!”
I whipped him once more and that did the trick. He infiltrated my achingly eager cunt with his tongue and I thought my knees were going to give out. His kisses were hot, his tongue solid and hard, flailing against the periphery of my pussy. Just to hear that wha-chuk sound again, I belted Lawrence’s bare back. He stopped kissing and looked up at me, his chin gleaming with sticky nectar. He awaited instruction.
“Suck my clit,” I said. “Suck it hard.”
God, did he ever! I dropped the belt to hold his head in my hands. I didn’t want to lose the scary dominatrix demeanour, but I couldn’t help myself. I whimpered as Lawrence vacuumed my clit into his mouth. My hips began to move, to gyrate. I couldn’t help it. It was like he was sucking my body out through my clit. It was wonderful. I could hardly breathe. Oh, my bustier was too tight. If I didn’t take it off, I was going to collapse! As the leather top fell to the floor, I forced my cunt against Lawrence’s face, writhing against his mouth. Grabbing hold of his shoulder, I dug my nails deep into his flesh. Couldn’t help it.
“Tabernac, Lawrence!” I cried, teetering on the brink of insanity. “You are fucking incredible!”
I fell away from his glistening mouth, my head spinning from too much pleasure, and Lawrence propped himself up to lick my cold breasts. The wetness and warmth of his tongue against my erect nipples made my body quiver. My knees were weak, but there was one more thing I wished to do to my prisoner before letting him escape.
Unclipping the clothes pegs from his thighs, I watched Lawrence’s reddened flesh bounce back into place. From the basket of paraphernalia from my night table, I plucked some lube and an oddly-shaped contraption I’d bought online…This popular item has the perfect contours to stimulate a man’s prostate. It was smooth with bulbous little offshoots, and the end had curved handles to make it easy to grip while you’re ramming your partner with it. We’d never used this thing before. Lawrence didn’t even know I had it.
“How hard are you?” I asked my slave, standing behind him.
“I would say very,” he responded.
“Well, you have two choices. I can whip you or I can fuck you.”
“Oh, fuck me, please!” he said like a kid in a candy store.
I laughed. “No, I don’t think you understand.”
When I held the strange dildo in front of his face, Lawrence looked dubiously back at me. “What is that?”
“Do you want to find out?”
His smile was hesitant. “I think I’d rather be whipped.”
I smiled with saccharine insincerity. “Suit yourself.” Picking up his belt up off the couch, I laid it down across his back. Wha-chuk! Wha-chuk! Wha-chuk! I struck him as hard as I could manage, every blow falling on the same tender strip of skin.
“Stop!” Lawrence cried. “Okay, okay. Try the other thing.”
Well, that was one way to settle a dispute. Slathering the toy in lube, I massaged the excess into his twitching asshole. Lawrence released a low moan. “Are you going to… you know…?”
“I want to hear you beg for it,” I replied.
“Please!”
“Please what? I can’t read your mind,” I teased. Of course I could.
“Audrey, could you please stroke my cock?”
“Well, since you asked so nicely…”
That settled it: I was an absolute failure as a dominatrix. Oh well. Reaching around his lovely ass, I took firm hold of his rigid rod and Lawrence was putty in my hands. He moaned and whispered my name, thrusting his hips so his cock ran smoothly through my fist. I set the end of my new toy against his convulsive asshole and jiggled it about. He sighed at the slight pressure I exerted.
He wouldn’t last long. There was no time to lose. I pressed hard on the slippery toy, but his ass was too resistant. The harder I pushed, the more Lawrence tightened up and whimpered. He stopped thrusting his hips.
“Relax,” I encouraged my little anal virgin, smoothing my fingers over his cock-head, pumping hard against it.
I tried again with the toy, but it wasn’t happening.
“I’m sorry, Audrey. I’m trying, but it feels like a blunt instrument.”
Had I been a good dominatrix, I would have forced the prostate pleaser into his ass, hard, and ignored his cries. I just couldn’t do that to Lawrence. As much pain as he caused me, I could never hurt the man. I set the toy aside.
With a good dollop of lube on my finger, I found
his curious asshole and tickled it. When I issued only the slightest pressure, Lawrence’s elastic hole opened up like Ali Baba’s cave.
“Oh, wow!” Lawrence gushed as I stroked his warm insides. “That’s incredible.”
“That’s my finger.”
“Maybe that’s why,” he replied. “It’s person-to-person.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I kept on petted his prostate. Lawrence whimpered and whined like an animal. That’s how I knew he was really getting off—he was usually so quiet. His modest cock jerked and twitched under my throttlehold. When his thighs began to tremble and quake, I knew he wasn’t long for the world of the inorgasmic.
Oh, ah, oh! Audrey! Oh, Audrey! Oh, Audrey! It was like seeing my name in lights. Lawrence’s voice honored each consonant, each vowel, and always y. His body tightened up and his ass clamped down against my finger. He might have sucked it into his body if it hadn’t been attached to my hand. I could have sworn I felt the come burst up his shaft before it erupted from his tip in gushing spurts. Covering his cock-head with my palm, I massaged the hot jizz against his straining rod.
“That was the most incredible…” Lawrence began. I waited to see if he was going to finish the thought, but no. Lawrence just collapsed on the couch, whimpered even more pathetically than when I’d whipped him. I untied his hands, but he remained draped over the sofa back.
Sitting down beside my Lawrence, I smoothed my hand over his rosy cheeks, along his side and his back. The first few soft touches generated tremors and spasms, but the more I petted his skin, the calmer he became. A despairing feeling weighed on my heart. This was the part I hated. “You have to go, don’t you?” I asked him.
Turning his head, he cast a heavy gaze upon me. Lawrence’s eyes were sky blue when he was happy, overcast when he was sad. At that moment, they were cloudy with a chance of rain. He nodded.
“But you wish you could stay?” I asked, eager for a compliment.
“I don’t know,” Lawrence replied, scrunching his nose. “If you spank me and whip me and stick things up my butt while I’m awake, what would you do to me in my sleep?”
Though I wanted to, I couldn’t bring myself to laugh. “And you’re going home, right? You’re not going to spend the weekend with some other girl?”
“Audrey,” Lawrence said, wrapping me in the warmth of his arms, “there’s no one else but you.”
I cackled wryly. “Give me a break, Lawrence. You have a wife! How could I…?”
“Audrey,” he interrupted me. “There’s no one else but you.”
Perhaps stupidly, I believed him.
About Giselle Renarde
Eroticist, environmentalist and pastry enthusiast Giselle Renarde is a proud Canadian and a great lover of the vast forests of the Great White North. For Giselle, a perfect day involves watching a snowstorm rage outside with a cup of tea in one hand and a chocolate truffle in the other. Ms Renarde lives across from a park with two bilingual cats who sleep on her head.
Giselle Renarde has contributed short stories to numerous anthologies, including Tasting Her: Oral Sex Stories (Cleis Press), Love Bites (Torquere Press), Coming Together: With Pride, and Coming Together: Out Loud (Phaze). Online, Giselle has contributed erotic content to such websites as For The Girls and Hips and Curves, and editorial content to Lucrezia Magazine.
Cornflower
By Bekki Lynn
Chapter 1
Eryn eyed the rustic log cabin nestled in the forest at the end of the gravel road. The sight of its welcome aura both relaxed and filled her with anticipation. Purchasing the place was the best thing they could have done for them. No neighbors to worry about; no one to call the police, because they were too noisy; no one to pound on the door at the most inopportune time. Her husband squeezed her hand.
“I feel the tension slipping from you already,” Max commented.
“I’ve begged for Friday evening to come all week.” She laid her head on his shoulder. “You’d be home, we’d be here and the weekend would be ours without interruption.”
“Our piece of heaven.” He parked the jeep and tipped her face up. “I’ve missed you.”
She rubbed his crotch. “I saw how much when I picked you up at the airport.”
His lips brushed hers, “I want you in the worst way,” he mumbled against her mouth. “Naked.” He bit her upper lip. “Wet.” She moaned as he ran his tongue across her bottom lip. “Have you riding my cock like a marionette.”
Eryn sagged against him, caressing the side of his face. Her heart accelerated. “Please, take me now, before we cross the threshold.”
His hand found her breast, molding and pinching the tip pointing through the thin material of her blouse. She moved it downward into the junction of her thighs and moved into it. He rubbed her and spasms trickled up through her belly.
“I have a present for you,” he informed her as he unbuttoned her Capri’s.
Her breath hitched and she grinned. “You and a present.” He slipped inside her pants and she spread her thighs wider. His wrist rubbed her swollen clit while he slipped into wetness and probed her tunnel, feeding her need to come. Gripping his upper arm, she moaned and slid down in the seat to take more of him. She urged him with her body and pushed his hand yet he avoided the sweet spot. He pulled his hand out.
“Oh, come on, don’t tease me like this,” she complained with a half-hearted tone.
“You love it and you know it.” He gave her a quick kiss. “Let’s unload so you can see what I brought you.”
“That was the intention, but—”
He laughed a husky, deep-throated sound and climbed from the jeep.
She laid her head on the back of the seat, rubbing herself through the linen though she knew it wouldn’t help. All she’d wanted was to knock the ache back and he did nothing but add fuel to the fire.
“Come on, Eryn,” Max said, chuckling as he headed toward the cabin with a box of supplies and arm full of luggage.
After a long exhale, Eryn got out and grabbed the last box and followed him inside. It was like being home, and every weekend it was their home. She set the box on the table and turned on lights. While putting things away, she waited for him to specify if he wanted dinner now or later. Often he wanted to play first, work up a ravenous appetite for something other than her. When Max came from the bedroom without a shirt, she had her answer. Excited, she hurried to unpack for them. She wanted action.
She returned to the living room and walked over to where Max kneeled in front of the fireplace. Eryn watched the toned muscles ripple and flex as he put a log on the fire. It stirred the fiery embers smoldering within her. Without thinking of the consequences, she ran a hand along his shoulder blade. The warm flesh sent tingles up the nerve endings of her arm.
How could a week apart be like this after twelve years of marriage? He rose and turned toward her, his eyes intense and ready for action. Her body squirmed from the inside out in anticipation.
Max caressed her face, ran a thumb over her lips. “Maybe we should have dinner first.”
Please, no! Not after being without you all week. Eryn’s breathing halted for several seconds as she fought not to frown and show her disappointment. He was, after all, the master and she must do what pleases him. It was the rule once they stepped over the threshold of the cabin, and until they jumped into the jeep to head home.
He grinned at her. “Good, love,” he told her while fingering her day collar of sterling silver rope. “You’ll be my dinner tonight.” Reaching down to the coffee table, he picked up a case she hadn’t noticed. He held it toward her, opening the lid. She gasped. “Oh, my god!” Her eyes watered as she stared at the matching slave anklet of her necklace. She’d done nothing but drool over a photo of it since it came out last month, but she’d never shown it to him. Never would have asked him to pay the price when she already had the necklace to symbolize their relationship. God, what a love he was. “Thank you, master.”
“You’ve
earned it.”
“It will look wonderful with sandals, master.” She watched him kneel and lock it around her ankle.
“Love, I want you to wait at the trees, unclothed.”
“Yes, master.” Eryn, smiling, left the cabin and went to stand between two oak trees where she stripped out of her clothes, folding them neatly before setting them on a covered rain barrel. She stood with her arms at her side, her chin turned up to the sky. Patches of blue sky showed through maple leaves high above her. The span of freedom she felt was only here. The snap of twigs alerted her she wasn’t alone.
“Arms up! Max ordered.
Obediently, she put her arms in the air, allowing him to shackle her wrists with fur lined leather straps.
“Going up,” he announced as he raised her from the ground with ropes on a pulley system he devised. The swift rush was much like a Ferris Wheel when they moved you along to allow others on and off. He tied it off on a hook and proceeded to strap her ankles, spreading her legs wide. “Status?” he ordered, his voice rougher than before.
“Rosy, master.” She’d tried to sound meek and a bit fearful, but it didn’t work. This part of their play was her idea and she loved it each time they used it. It’d taken him a bit over a half year before he relaxed and gave it all to her.
She heard his footsteps retreat and it didn’t bother her to be left vulnerable to the wild. Closing her eyes, she recited her favorite poem; How I Love Thee, Let Me Count The Ways.
A swat on her ass startled her. She hadn’t heard him return.
“That was for touching me without permission.”
She bit back a chuckle. At times she deliberately disobeyed rules because she loved the way he punished her. Hands skimmed up her legs and teeth grazed her tingling cheeks. How she wished she could wiggle her ass to taunt him?
Chapter 2
“Might as well skip to dessert,” he whispered. He spread her cheeks and rimmed her anus with his tongue. She moaned and tried to push back against him. He held her still as his tongue circled and probed. “Feels good, master.”