Slave Erotica Volume 1

by Charlie Buxton

  Your hands are on me, dragging me up, over you, you rolling to your side. One leg is thrown over mine, pinning my lower body, my shoulder wedged against your chest. Your hand captures both of my wrists, locking them steady just above my head, the other hand skims over me. Down the inside of each arm your fingers trail, making me squirm and gasp. Lightly tracing, almost tickling, your fingers move around my ribs, under the swell of each breast, over the curve and hollow of my hips. Impatient and greedy, I tug on my wrists, pull slightly, giggles interspersed with soft whimpers, but you only hold tighter, determination in your face. I feel your breath on my neck, warm and moist; I can feel the pounding of your heart, the heat of your skin, the hard length of you against my thigh, still wet from my mouth.

  Your hand dips between my legs and finds wetness, and my thighs clench together, though I don't know whether I am trapping your hand or trying to deny you access. You merely shove at my inner leg, rough enough to bruise the pale freckled skin. "Open. Open for me."

  No sooner have I shifted than your hand plunges in, fingers driving deep. Twisting, dipping, curving, pressing against slick skin and tight heat and sending me arching off the bed and crying out. The pressure builds, so tight. I am right there, on that edge, carried over from before. Your name echoes in my head as a plea and as a curse.

  "Steve. God. I am so close..."

  Your voice literally vibrates with authority and power. "You have to ask permission first."

  My head twists on the bed, my face incredulous. "Wh...what?"

  Your fingers simply find that small roughened patch of skin inside, and press firmly, sending me straight off the bed.

  "Ask."

  "Dammit. God Dammit!" My chest is so tight, every breath is labored. Covered in a light sheen of sweat, rocking against you, sensation pulling me in every direction. I lift my hips off the bed, thinking to force the sensation, but you change your movements just enough, making that razor thin edge dull slightly. My fingers clamp against my palms, the nails digging in. My heels press into the bed, hips arching up, but your leg restrains me. So close, so needy.

  "Let me...."

  "No." Your voice cuts me off. "Ask."

  Frustration and anger take a backseat to the need for that pleasure. "Can I...please, may I come...."

  Your fingers twist again, thrusting, pulling a long liquid moan from me. That building pressure is ready to burst, the anticipation of it races along my skin.

  "Not yet."

  Your hand withdraws, glistening and wet, lifting to spread that moisture on each nipple, making them throb even tighter. I yank my arms trying to get free, and succeed only in making my shoulder pop lightly and a twinge of pain shoot through. Your hand, open and flat, lands several stinging smacks on my splayed thighs, my wet sex, my breasts. My curses are ripe and breathless, my struggles to dig in, twist away, escape your grip only wears me out.

  More slaps on my skin, your fingers raking over me, rough now, fierce. Pinching, prodding, twisting. Pleasure and pain, stroking me upwards again. Having been brought so close, and denied twice... you are relentless, propelling me. Anticipation drives me even further, and I am there again so quickly, hovering.

  "May I come." Each word burns in my throat. "Steve. Steve. Please...I am coming..."

  Your fingers grip my chin, turn it in your direction. "No, you're not. I control you." Your eyes glitter, dark and hot and full of promise. "I own you."

  That edge falls clean away, my body simply sinks. Indignation ignites, anger burns, and embarrassment fans the flames. These are only the surface emotions- there is a fear underneath at how easily you can control me, every part of me. The instinct for self-preservation kicks in, albeit a bit late. I can't think, can only react.

  My outside leg thrashes, I manage to twist enough to half-flip on my side. Thinking to roll and yank my arms and gain freedom, nearly tasting it, your leg and hand hooking and flipping me back leaves me stunned. Your fingers dig into the curve of my hip, your leg is a thick weight over both of mine. You angle over me more, filling my vision, and I turn my head, not wanting vulnerability- complete, at this point- to show on my face as well as my prone body. The hand pinning my wrists releases, slides, tipping my face to yours. Your mouth crashes onto mine, your tongue demanding entrance and compelling a response. Hot and deep, your kisses taking me under, sliding me back through those sharper emotions until I am left with only need and desire. Until I have accepted, and acknowledged, and settled.

  Your fingers are gentle now, teasing, tracing the curve of my ear, flicking over each nipple, stroking the back of each knee. Pleasure is there, under that still-burning need, gentler and broader. Rising and falling, building the ache again. Your mouth on my shoulder, my neck, your lips and teeth and tongue driving me crazy. Your name falls easily from my lips, in benediction and supplication, carried on increasingly louder moans.

  Hips undulating against the mattress, rising and falling in a rhythm. Aware of your arousal pushing against my thigh, aware of your elevated heartbeat when I skim my hands over your shoulders, down the sinewy length of arm, sliding around your waist to stroke over your back.

  Raising up slightly, skimming my lips over your collarbone, your neck. Sinking my teeth lightly into your shoulder, my hands stroking down so my fingers can bite lightly into the tight curve of your ass. Hearing that half laugh, half growl evens me out, steadies me.

  Entices me.

  Running my hands over you, thrilling to the feel of smooth hot skin and rippling muscles. Feeling your heart kick, your body quiver when my fingers curl around you, find you hard and thick and throbbing. I manage to push you back, rolling us over, straddling your waist, looking down at you again. Watching your eyes glaze slightly when I wriggle backwards, teasing us both when you graze against my wet heat. My fingers curl lightly around your wrists, pinning them against the bed.

  I know, we both know, that I have this measure of control only because you allow it.

  Dipping my head, pressing damp open-mouthed kisses across your chest, flicking my tongue out to curl against each of your nipples in turn, feeling them pebble. Your hips press upward against me, I rock backward slightly, feeling you slide fully against me. Both of us groaning in unison.

  Lifting my hips up, leaning low and kissing you deeply, nipping lightly at your bottom lip before I take you in slowly. Levering myself up, my thigh muscles quivering with the tension of holding myself off of you.

  "Steve." I don't know what else to say, can't remember what I was going to say.

  Your eyes meet mine, half lidded. Your hands curl around my hips, holding me steady. "Take me in, Julie." Your hips lift slightly, your hands press down. "All of me."

  My breath hisses out when I do, lowering myself onto you, feeling you fill me. Your groan echoes, hums through me. My hips lift, fall, rock forward, then back as I take you deep. Deeper. Your fingers dig into my waist, slide up over my breasts, squeezing, lifting, kneading, then back to my hips, curving inward. Lifting me up, pulling me back down to you, back on you. Guiding both of us, controlling the sensations. Your thumb rides against my clit, making me shudder violently. Coupled with the friction of you inside me, I am hurtling fast towards completion, but stop just short. Straining, riding you, my hips shifting as I take you in, angling for better sensation. Dropping my head back, my hair swishing over my shoulders and down my spine, bringing my hands up to cup my breasts, layering sensations. Seeking, desperately, trying to coax my body into that release. My skin is tight, so tight, my head is fuzzy, but my senses sharpened. I can smell my own arousal, now the scent of sex. Your skin, your sweat, mine. The slap of skin against skin, the very faint thud of you slamming into me that is more felt than heard. The heaving of breath, the moans of both of us. The steady pleas that are wrenched out of me, the answering growls and grunts from you. Hot skin brushed with cooler air, the coarse texture of your hair and skin under my thighs and hands, the smoother sheets under my knees. The taste of you still in my mouth, my lips swo
llen and bruised and needing more. Heat prickling in the soles of my feet, that first indicator, and crawling up my legs, making them shake. Fingers grasping and gripping, eyes heavy lidded and blurred with pleasure.

  Focusing on you, the hard thick length of you filling me, sliding against me, pounding upwards as I thrust down. Catching a glance in the mirror, I turn my head, watching myself, watching your cock disappear inside me, seeing your heels dug in and hips raising, my breasts bouncing, cheeks flushed, my skin marred with the red and pink prints from your hands earlier.

  The pleasure is nearly a pain, the sweet aching pressure blooms, coursing just under my skin. Pounding at me, ready to drown me. Closing my eyes, concentrating, I barely feel you shift. Your hands ease around my throat, the distinct metallic click makes my eyes fly open. I watch your hand wrap around the leather strap as if in slow motion. You pull, the strap tugging on the thick leather band you fastened around my neck, drawing my upper body down. The change in pressure, the angle of the friction sets me trembling all over. You pull me down, so close your lips are nearly brushing my lips, your eyes boring into mine.

  "I own you. I control you. I take what I want. "Your voice is thick, almost slurred, and broken. "I give what I want. You will give me what I want." Your hips drive harder up into me, my hands can only cling to your shoulders now. "Give."

  I am not sure if you are speaking the words or if they are there in my head, in your eyes. I only know that they fill me.

  "Give, Julie. Give it to me." You thrust up, hard. "Now."

  Hard. Fast. With dizzying speed I am flooded, drowned in sensation, rocketing over the edge and flying high and fast. I think I scream, or maybe that is just in my head. My whole body seems to thrum with your name, every cell giving over to you. Locked in your eyes, lost in the sensation, some small part of me registers the way your eyes harden, then go blind. My body greedily accepts you, milking you. Still spasming around you, feeling you fill me, that hot wet rush of your own pleasure that sends me into another long tremble.

  Collapsing on you, weak. My hand lifts to the leather band around my throat, almost in disbelief. My fingers, shaking, fumble, release the catch. It tangles in my hair as I pull it away, the pain is sharp and bright. I yank, quickly unwind it from your hand, toss it in the direction of the corner. Not sure what my actions just prove, I slide from you, and all too quickly find myself pinned under you as earlier.

  "More. Again."

  I try to shove at you, too weakly. "No Steve...I can't...."

  "Dammit, you will give me more."

  You are already stroking me into another orgasm, that easily and that fast. Your fingers pressing into me, finding that sensitive spot, easing over it. In heartbeats you have me writhing, twisting, hips bucking, crying out one long keaning moan that can only be described as animalistic and, in my own head, completely embarrassing. Keeping me right there, riding out the edge of the storm long and hard and full steam ahead. Making me flail, jump, beg and plead. One hand driving me, owning me, your other forearm pressing down on my forehead, allowing me no escape and no room to maneuver away from you.

  Forcing me to take more from you.

  To take all that you are giving.

  To give.

  Trembling and spent, sunk into a near exhaustive state, my mind completely empty of everything. Your hand on my head shifts, strokes into my hair, winding a handful around and between your fingers. The hand between my legs lifts, you bring it to my mouth. Your finger tip, drenched in moisture strokes over my lips, then between.

  "Open." Your fingers slide in. "Taste."

  Myself, you. The combination potent and, to my mind right then, near-deadly. I cannot open my eyes, cannot even drum up enough energy to draw my legs together when you repeat the movements twice more, scooping from me and then feeding the blend of my release and yours.

  I feel your eyes on my face after I have licked your fingers clean, can feel your brain click on. My eyes open, focus, my head turns and I meet your gaze.

  Your fingertip slides over my neck and throat, and I nearly lift my hand to check and see if I had really removed that collar, or if it had been there at all. I can still feel weight, almost substance. I shiver as you speak, your voice quiet and clear.

  "It is still there, Julie. You can take it off, throw it, hack it to pieces, burn it. You can try all you want to deny the claim. But you and I both know, it is still there."

  Every Action Has A Consequence

  Laura awoke with a start, jolted from slumber by a noise outside. With a sigh, she pushed the blankets away and reached to unclip the short chain connecting her ankle shackles before swinging her body around and stepping onto the thick carpeting. She slowly crossed the room, admiring the glimpses she caught of her own body in the variously sized mirrors adorning the walls. Stopping before the largest of them, she smiled sleepily at the marks upon her small breasts, remembering her husband's teeth sinking into her soft flesh as his large cock pounded into her.

  She brought her hands up to her nipples and pinched them slightly, rolling them between her thumb and fingers as she stared into her own eyes. As always, her nipples hardened immediately and she felt a thrill running down into her pussy, as if the nerves in these two nubs were directly wired to her clit. Slipping one finger into her mouth, she sucked it briefly before reaching down to her cunt.

  The wetness was already beginning to flow. Laura rubbed gently, teasingly, slowly increasing her own excitement. She watched raptly in the mirror as her hand parted the soft lips of her pussy and she slipped two fingers into its moist depths as she softly rubbed her now-swollen clit with her thumb. Almost unconsciously, her other hand slipped behind her, sliding down the curves of her ass until a single finger probed at her tight anus. She closed her eyes, beginning to pant now, her juices dripping as she forced her fingertip into her ass and wiggled it around, rubbing her clit harder and faster now. She closed her eyes and moaned, swaying a little as she worked towards a climax.

  "Whatcha doin'?" the softly-voiced question jolted her, and she whirled around, hands flying up in a vain attempt to cover her nakedness. Gavin stood in the doorway, a slight smile on his face. His eyes, however, were far from amused, and bored into hers with an intensity that made it impossible for her to look away.

  "I ... uh, well...." She knew there was no explanation, no way to pretend this was anything other than exactly what it looked like.

  Still trapped in the gaze of Gavin's dark eyes, Laura lowered herself to her knees. "I'm so sorry." She assumed the usual position with the ease of long practice, back ramrod straight, knees parted to reveal the still-wet lips of her treacherous pussy, arms at her sides. Her heart raced and she trembled slightly.

  Gavin's smile broadened as he crossed the room to stand before her. It had been quite some time since he'd had the opportunity to genuinely punish his wife, and he was determined to enjoy it. His cock was already stiffening as he broke eye contact and slowly absorbed every detail of the naked woman kneeling at his feet. Even when she was misbehaving, he still found her beautiful, from the hair that flowed down to partially obscure her breasts, to her soft little belly, to the feet curled beneath her. Circling around, he was pleased to observe the marks still on her well-padded buttocks from the night before.

  "Stand."

  Laura swiftly complied.

  "Lie on the bed, face down." Gavin moved over to the dresser as she followed his order, opening the drawers and sorting through the toy collection inside, pondering the most entertaining order to use them in. He first selected a large butt plug, one that Laura had never been able to take before.

  "You know I don't like it when you don't follow the rules," he commented as he applied lube to the bulbous toy. "You've been so good for so long, but I am going to have to punish you." He paused and reached back into the drawer before turning towards the bed.

  Laura sensed Gavin approaching, and quivered with mingled fear and, she had to admit, more than a little excitement. She gaspe
d as his strong fingers grabbed the back of her hair and yanked her head up. Gavin's lips whispered close to her ear, "I'm really, really going to punish you."

  He brought a ball gag up to her mouth and she obligingly opened it, her jaws stretching wide to take it all in. Once the gag was strapped securely around her head, Gavin added a blindfold. She hated this one-so heavy that it pressed against her eyelids, large enough that not a single stray light ray had any hope of penetrating it. Laura's face smacked roughly against the mattress as Gavin suddenly released her.

  Next came the waist belt and connected wrist restraints. Then the heavy straps buckled around her thighs, just above the knee. Gavin roughly pulled Laura's legs apart, pausing to insert one finger between the pink lips and tease her clit ever so briefly. Then he strapped her down tight, legs spread wide, butt tilted slightly in the air. Those cheeks were so enticing, he just had to caress them, feeling the warmth of her soft skin, watching her slightly squirm. Suddenly bringing one hand down in a smack that resounded in the quiet of the room, he harshly commanded, "Don't move."