Sweet Life 2

by Violet Blue

  They’re lovely tits, B-cup and firm. Nice, pink nipples. They always get hard when she’s turned on. They’re very, very hard now.

  “You ready?” I ask her.

  Breathing hard, she nods.

  I step back and Eric takes my place. His tools are already laid out on the stainless-steel table next to Julie’s roost. I take a seat on the counter and watch as Eric measures Julie’s nipples with the calipers, makes some marks, and engages in some other puttering adjustments. Every now and then he looks her straight in the eye and smiles, his sadist glee showing through. When he does that, Julie takes a deep breath and shivers.

  I’m rock hard.

  Eric fits the clamp around Julie’s right nipple. I’ve already told her that the right nipple will be first, because in the old days flagging on the right meant you were a submissive. And Julie, without a doubt, is my submissive.

  Eric leans forward and presses his lips to hers. Julie, obediently, kisses him back. She squirms a little in her bonds. Eric holds up the bright needle so that she can see it.

  “Want to hold her hand?” asks Eric.

  I stand next to Julie and hold her hand, having to twist it in the restraints to get a good grip. He guides her through her breathing. Then he smiles. “It’s all right to scream,” he says just before he starts her on the one-two-three that will lead up to her piercing.

  “One,” he says, and Julie breathes in and out. “Two,” says Eric, and I grip her hand. In. Out. “Three,” he says, and when Julie breathes out the shimmering needle goes quickly through her nipple and stays there, menacing and beautiful.

  Julie doesn’t scream. Her eyes go wide, and she looks into my face. “Oh, god,” she whispers. “Oh my fucking god.”

  “Keep breathing,” says Eric as he fits the ring into the end of the needle. “In, out. In, out.”

  “Those are her two favorite words,” I say, and reach down between her legs to feel her pussy. She’s even wetter than before, her clit hard and throbbing.

  “This is next,” I whisper into her ear. “As soon as we finish with your nipples.”

  Julie nods, her eyes sparkling with fear and arousal.

  Eric draws the needle through, leaving Julie with a silver ring in her nipple. Then he starts on the next nipple, clamping it firmly and readying the needle.

  Again, the breathing. This time, Julie is ready for it; perhaps that’s why she screams this time. Not really a scream; more a moan. Perhaps a gasp. I kiss her deeply while Eric draws the needle through and marks her with the second ring.

  “How do you feel?” he asks her.

  “All right,” she says. “It doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.”

  “Steve tells me you’re a pain pig. I think it’ll start feeling good, soon.”

  “It already does,” she breathes, smiling. “That was a disappointment.”

  “You won’t be disappointed now,” says Eric, reaching down to touch her clit.

  I look into her eyes, smiling, seeing the fear and eagerness on her face. I am still rock hard; I could take my cock out and come in an instant. I watch and kiss Julie as Eric measures her clit, then says, “She needs to be fully erect.”

  I reach down and stroke her clit, listening to Julie moan as she writhes in her bonds. I rub her for a long time, making sure she’s fully aroused.

  “I think she’s erect,” I say.

  “Me, too,” says Eric, and fits Julie’s clit between the teeth of the clamp.

  When the needle goes through, Julie gasps, then wails. Her exhalation comes long and slow as Eric draws the needle through, fitting the ring into her clit. A single tear runs down Julie’s cheek, and then she starts to moan softly as she rubs her face against my neck.

  Eric finishes up with a few minor details, offering Julie a mirror to approve the placement.

  Julie’s eyes are glazed over, her whole body flushed with arousal and pain. She stares dumbfounded at the metal ring glistening through her clitoris.

  “It’s fine,” I say.

  “Time for payment in trade?” grins Eric.

  I look at Julie. She’s tranced out, fully overcome by the pain and sexual excitement. But I know her well, and she could still use her safeword.

  Eric unclasps the buckles around her ankles, undoes the restraints around her wrists. He helps Julie off the table and leads her over, still naked, to the room’s one armchair, a big one covered in leather.

  Eric sits there and spreads his legs.

  Julie gasps slightly as she lowers herself to her knees. She keeps her legs wide, hunkered down low, so as not to disturb her fresh piercing. She has more trouble with her nipple piercings, but she manages to arch her back and keep them clear of Eric’s legs.

  Julie knows what she is to do. Eric, our longtime friend, is receiving no payment for today’s piercing. Instead, Julie’s pretty mouth is the payment. She obediently unbuckles his belt and unzips his leather pants. She takes his cock out, finding it rock hard.

  Without hesitation, Julie starts sucking him. I watch, my own cock hard as Julie’s mouth slides up and down Eric’s swollen cock. She whimpers slightly as she sucks it down, and I can tell she’s hungry for it, hungry for his come.

  Eric runs his fingers through her hair, his face blissful. When he’s ready to come his ass lifts slightly and his hips pivot; Julie takes the cue and eagerly clamps her mouth around the shaft of his cock. He cries out, coming, filling Julie’s mouth with his jizz.

  When she pulls off of him and licks him clean, she looks up at me.

  “Please, Sir,” she says, her voice hoarse, her throat savaged by Eric’s cock. “May I please suck your cock, too?”

  Eric looks at me and smiles. This wasn’t part of the plan, but clearly Julie’s piercing has transformed her in ways none of us expected. And besides, I’m hard. I was already thinking fondly about pushing her head down into my lap once we got to the car.

  “All right,” I say, unzipping my pants and taking my cock out. “Come here.”

  I remain standing as Julie crawls to me, her body twitching with every movement that affects her freshly pierced tits and clit. But she makes it to me, and I lean my ass against the edge of the table where my slave was just pierced. Her mouth descends on my cock and she sucks it more eagerly than she ever has before—desperate for my jism. Hungry.

  I look down at her and see her eyes glazed, blissed with pain and sex. She sucks me as if she’s been wanting to suck cock all her life, as if she’s trained and planned for this moment forever. She pumps my cock into her throat and moans as she rubs it all over her face.

  When I come, she swallows every drop, hot streams shooting into her mouth and down her throat. She licks me clean and tucks my cock back into my leather pants, zipping them up.

  “Now that’s what I call aftercare,” says Eric, smiling.

  I have to help Julie into the loose shorts she brought to replace her leather pants. She puts them on without underwear, and puts a clean undershirt on beneath the T-shirt she came in with.

  Eric kisses her tenderly before he lets her go. I grasp his hand and say, “Thanks.”

  “Hey,” he says. “Thank you. Anytime you want your little girl pierced, you know where to come.”

  “I think we’ll be back soon,” I say, patting Julie on the ass. “I’ve always wondered what it feels like to get your cock sucked by a girl with a tongue piercing.”

  I look into her eyes, still glazed over: There’s a mixture of fear, excitement, and delicious anticipation. I know I can’t fuck her for weeks. But she’s already shown that there’s plenty of other things she can do.

  And I’m betting she can do them even better, now that she knows she’s mine. Her devotion to me, her submission, has clearly gotten deeper with the piercing of her flesh, the insertion of rings to remind Julie who she belongs to.

  I can hardly wait to get her home, and find out how deep that submission goes.

  Good for the Goose

  JESSE NELSON


  Deep berry-red lipstick kisses mark my skin. When I see the imprints, I can almost feel Cameron’s lips pressed against my body all over again. That gives me a powerful little thrill, and my cock hardens at the memory of what we’ve just done. How Cameron took her time kissing everywhere on me before finally rewarding my behavior with the sweetest, longest, most sensitive blow job I’ve ever had.

  “Are you coming back to bed, hon?” Cameron calls from our room.

  “Yeah,” I answer immediately, “in a minute.”

  I stand naked in front of the full-length bathroom mirror, admiring the multitude of lip prints left by my randy girlfriend. Her kisses are like a road map of the places she’s visited over the last few hours. My chest, my flat stomach, my cock and balls. The high-intensity red really stands out against my skin, and I realize that there are tiny sparkles blended within the color of the cosmetic, so that my skin seems to shimmer wherever the lipstick is smeared.

  During our marathon sex session, Cameron would pause and reapply the gloss to her full mouth, then resume her position. She knows just how much I adore the echoes of her kisses to remain on me even after we’re through fucking. But what she doesn’t know is how much I really like her lipstick. The rows of tubes she keeps in the clear plastic box on the shelf by the sink always draw me toward them. Each time I enter the room, I run my fingers over her collection. There’s magic in those dainty tubes.

  I like to watch her put the lipstick on, charmed by the careful way she applies the color then blots away the excess. Sometimes, I sit on the cold porcelain lip of the tub and watch, pretending that we’re simply having some normal conversation, but really paying careful attention to every last detail of her makeup routine. It makes me hard like nothing else. The way she drags the little mascara wand over her already lengthy lashes. The way she dips a sleek brush into a pot of blush and whisks it over her high cheekbones. She doesn’t wear too much—just enough to enhance her already beautiful face. Pale pink on the apples of her cheeks. A silvery white on her eyelids. The perfect shade of plummy red on her lips. I don’t know precisely what it is about the cosmetics that I like so much, but I find myself attracted to them. The way I’ve gotten around confessing my fetish to her is by having her put lipstick on herself when we fuck.

  But what I really want is for her to put it on me.

  I know just how Cameron looks when she reaches for the tube, purses her lips at her reflection, applies her favorite hue. She’s got so many different tricks. Sometimes she adds liner afterward, coloring in her lips rather than adding a cartoonish outline. Other times she swipes on a clear gloss—one called Triple X—that makes her mouth look like something right out of a porno movie.

  Now, I want to see what the stuff will look like on my lips. Maybe it’s because I’m still swimming in that hazy, turned-on, post-sex vibe. Or maybe my longing has finally gotten the better of my sense of preservation. I hesitate for only a moment before reaching for a black lacquered tube and removing the cap. What’s the harm in trying it on? Just to see. Just a little bit. Really, there’s nothing different from applying chapstick, right? And all sorts of men wear chapstick. Athletes. Businessmen. Nothing wrong with that.

  With these bizarre mental words of wisdom urging me on, I undo the tube so that the lipstick extends upward. But I turn the cap too hard, and the column of color trembles unsteadily. I try to remember what Cameron looks like when she’s manipulating one of these items. Does she only twist the tube a tiny bit? Does it go in this direction? I’m feeling exceptionally graceless now. My hand is large and clumsy in comparison to her delicate fingers. Then I hear her bare feet on the hardwood floor of the hallway, coming closer, and in my haste to hide my activities, I break the lipstick in half.

  When she opens the bathroom door and catches me, I feel myself immediately start to blush. Does she know what I’ve been up to? Can she tell? I have her tube in one hand, but I curl my fingers around it, concealing the whole tube in my large palm.

  “Admiring yourself?” she smiles, parking herself on the rim of the sink and waiting for my response. She’s wearing one of my white button-up shirts, and her long, coltish legs are bare.

  I shrug my broad shoulders at her, and then nod because maybe if she thinks she’s caught me, she’ll leave. Then I can hide the evidence—the broken-off lipstick—and clean myself off. She won’t know that one tube was missing from the masses, will she?

  “I don’t really think Peony Passion is your color,” she says next, and I close my eyes to try to keep myself steady. How did she know?

  “It’s smeared all over your fingers,” she says, before I can ask. “If I were choosing for you, I’d pick more of a true red—Crimson Kiss, I think. That one would look amazing with your dark hair and blue eyes.”

  I nod as if I understand what the fuck she’s talking about. But I don’t.

  “You like it when I put on my lipstick,” she says, “but you wish I’d put it on you instead.” Was she in the bathroom with me while I was having these thoughts? Was she inside my fucking head?

  “You’re an easy read, Sam,” she sighs, hand out, palm open, waiting for me to give over the crushed and broken tube.

  “Sorry,” I say.

  “No,” she shakes her head. “You aren’t yet.”

  “Meaning…?” I ask, and she must see me puff out my chest a little bit, as if reminding her how much bigger I am than she is. Because I am. I tower over my finely drawn, slim-hipped blonde girlfriend.

  “So tough,” she grins. “With all your bulging muscles, and your big hard cock, and your strong deep voice. But all you really want is for me to put my makeup on you and turn you into a pretty girl. Isn’t that what you want, Sam? Tell me the truth.”

  I find myself nodding before I can have a mental debate about how to answer her question. She’s caught me after all. There’s no way to deny it.

  “Here’s the offer,” she says. “I’ll make you up, but you have to behave for me. You have to obey and do whatever I say. I promise you’ll get a fair deal. But the thing of it is, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”

  “I never understood what that meant, anyway,” I tell her.

  “It means if you get off, then I get off. Even-Steven.”

  “Anything,” I hear myself saying. “Anything, yes, whatever you say.”

  Even as I’m still speaking, Cameron’s in motion. She sprints to her closet and returns with a large silk robe in a pale blue the color of the morning sky. She holds it out for me, and I slide into the sumptuous creation, feeling the caress of the smooth, cold silk against my skin. Girls really know what they’re doing, don’t they? Dolling themselves up in these sweet, soft fabrics. Instantly, I feel more sexy for being in the decadent robe.

  Then Cameron has me sit on the top of our hamper as she readies her supplies. “Close your eyes,” she commands. I hesitate for one moment, but the look of power in her startling wide eyes makes me obey. When I do, Cameron uses one of her headbands to scrape my dark hair away from my face. I’m glad my eyes are closed so that I can’t see how silly I look in this. But I can imagine the picture in my head—no problem. I feel a cool lotion being spread onto my cheeks. Then her fingertips as they massage lotion into my skin.

  And then she gets started. Brushes whir over my cheeks. Pencils color my eyelids and around my lips. She is working in fast motion, and each time she touches me, my cock stirs to life. I feel as giddy as I ever have. Maybe it’s the silk robe, maybe it’s the smell of the makeup she’s using, but suddenly I am all girl. Cameron has me look up, at the ceiling, and I feel the brush of a mascara wand on my lashes. Then she has me purse my lips as she finally uses my all-time favorite of her cosmetic devices—the tiny little lip brush. There is something so sexy about being the object of her attention. When I look into her face, I see total concentration. She’s not thinking of me as Sam, her hard-bodied beau. She’s thinking of me as a canvas to illustrate.

  “Yes,” she says, stepping b
ack and nodding to herself. “Lovely—”

  Never heard that adjective used about me before.

  “So lovely,” she amends the statement. “Wanna see?”

  I do and I don’t. I’m actually terrified. But the way that my cock is scraping against the inside of the silk answers the question for her. I’m a tent in this thing. She takes that upright pole for the affirmative, and she steps out of the way of the bathroom mirror, revealing….

  “Christ, I’m good-looking.”

  I mean it. I am. She’s done something amazing with shadows and highlighter, with concealer. My strong bone structure had been transformed to something feminine, and even if I wouldn’t fool anyone in the bright light of day into thinking I was a lady, I might definitely get chatted up in our favorite dimly lit bar. My blue eyes look brighter, my lips are suddenly bee-stung full.

  It takes me a minute before I notice that Cameron has left the room. Where’s my angel of transformation? I follow her to the bedroom, and then I see that she’s made a transformation of her own. Where’s Cameron, my femme little bunny? Nowhere to be seen. In her place is some young stud, wearing a fancy-looking harness and thick, hard cock. My lithe lover has got a ribbed white T-shirt on, and looks rock-hard and ballsy, waiting for me on the bed.

  “Pretty thing,” he says, eyes roaming up and down my figure. “Get over here.”

  For the first time ever, I play coy. I tilt my head, I run my fingertips along the sash of the robe. “Where?” I murmur.

  “You know, Sammi, you know.”

  And I do, but I wait until this young stud leans up and grabs me, forcing me to come forward. “Kiss me,” my lover demands. And now I know what she was talking about in the bathroom. She’s in charge. She’s making me wait. If I get off, then she gets off. But I’m hungry to please her, and I kiss from her collarbones down her neck, moving toward her cock. I want to suck it. Want that like I’ve never wanted anything before in my fucking life. When I get to the power of her pole, I bathe it in the wetness of my mouth. I slick my lips up and down, from the tip to the place where the cock meets her body. I bob on it, and I feel the lipstick start to smear.