Lips Like Sugar

by Violet Blue

  I stood there, speechless, unmoving, my hands still tightly clenched behind my head.

  “Ease your legs apart,” he urged, this time softly. “Now, that’s a good girl. Keep going. That’s it, keep going till I say stop.”

  He stopped me just before the discomfort became pain.

  “Can you stay like that, honey?” he inquired in mock concern as he slid my skirt up over my hips and bunched it around my waist.

  “For a while, I can.” My halting voice trembled, along with my legs.

  “I certainly hope so—for your sake, that is. Spreader bars and manacles give such a bad impression, and they’re really an awful lot of work and trouble for me. That puts me in a bad mood. You wouldn’t want to see me in a bad mood, would you?” He grabbed my pubis through my panties and squeezed just a bit too hard.

  “No, sir. I’ll be fine, sir.”

  “Good girl, that’s a very good girl.” He pulled my skirt up over my head and threw it to the side.

  I shivered, in a heady mixture of embarrassment and anticipation at the rough touch of his hand. I struggled to stay still as he patted his hand lightly around the dampening gusset of my panties as if he was petting a dog.

  “Nice fabric. Silk?” he asked, rubbing my mound softly.

  “Yes, sir.” I tried hard not to moan.

  “I like the feel of damp silk so much better than damp cotton,” he said, leering leered wickedly, drawing out the word damp as if it were more than one syllable.

  The knowledge that he could feel just how soaking wet I was, got me even wetter and more embarrassed.

  He rested his palm under my puffy vulva and pressed firmly upward. I found myself straining to push down hard onto his hand. He rotated his wrist slightly and made an adjustment, enabling his middle finger to fit right into the widening seam between my lips. He scrutinized my face as he moved his hand back and forth, with each motion, embedding his finger more deeply into me.

  Secretly, I wished that there was no barrier, however flimsy, between his steadily probing finger and my hot flesh. I moaned, threw back my head, and began squirming helplessly against his hand.

  “Well?” I heard him whisper as he continued his maddening manipulations.

  My cunt was pounding. I felt hot, dazed, confused. I didn’t know what he wanted me to say or do. I struggled to control myself and tried to look at him, but I couldn’t.

  “What are you hiding?” he demanded in a threatening tone.

  “I’m not hiding anything, sir,” I managed to mumble.

  “Then explain to me why you can’t look me in the eye.” He snapped the words out, still sawing away at my pussy, while kneading my breast with his other hand.

  He tugged my nipple hard. I gasped and screwed my eyes shut.

  “Oh, yes. You must be hiding something in that sweet little honey pot of yours, otherwise you’d be able to look at me.”

  “No, sir. It’s just that you’re….”

  “I’m what?” he interrupted angrily. “I’m doing my job—that’s what I’m doing. I don’t like that attitude of yours.”

  He pressed my labia tightly together and I forced myself to look into his eyes as he squeezed rhythmically, each squeeze eliciting an answering gasp from me.

  “That’s it, girl. Look at me. Keep looking right at me.” He resumed his excruciating, back-and-forth motions with his finger in my groove.

  I fought hard to keep my heavy lids from descending over my glazed eyes.

  “Good girl. Now we’re ready to go on,” he crooned, patting and rubbing my pulsing mound firmly with his palm till I could feel the hood moving steadily up and down over my clit.

  “You do realize that these have to come off, don’t you?” he asked softly as he removed his hand from my tit and inched it slowly down inside my panties till his fingertip glancingly brushed my little erection, making me, and it, jump.

  “I asked you a question, girl,” he snarled, pressing my clit to emphasize each syllable as he spat it out.

  “Um. Um. I…. I don’t remember the, uh, question, sir.” I squirmed and stuttered, struggling to utter the words as he tapped out a menacing code on my sensitive little button.

  “Ah, yes,” he murmured, so softly it seemed as if it was only to himself. “You must be hiding something.”

  Abruptly, he stilled his hand.

  “But I’m not, sir. I swear, I’m not hiding anything.”

  He took both his hands from my body.

  That did it. Immediately, I began to cry. I needed his hands. He’d brought out my hunger. I felt desperate, horny—humiliated. I had to fight the urge to beg him to put me out of my misery, to put his hands down my panties, to keep rubbing and stroking and tapping, to push me to that orgasm that was building up inside me.

  My tears seemed to soften him, to make him aware of my growing need and desire to cooperate fully with his stimulating and excruciatingly thorough security procedure.

  “Here, let me help you,” he offered as he gently inserted his thumbs into the elastic of my sole remaining garment, aside from my shoes and stockings, which he seemed to be saving for last.

  I nodded my head and then looked unwaveringly into his eyes as he slowly drew the panties down over my hips, leaving them held in place, stretched by my widely spread thighs. I made no effort to close my legs because I knew that I was supposed to wait for his orders. They would have to remain as they were until he told me what to do.

  He backed away from me and I could feel myself blushing all over as he inspected my body thoroughly and carefully, from my breasts and belly, down over the curly dark bush shielding my sex. I wondered if he could see the small drops of liquid that I could feel trickling down the insides of my thighs.

  I warily followed him with my eyes as he began slowly circling me. When I could no longer see him, I felt his hot breath inflaming my neck, teasing me between my shoulder blades, then trailing down my spine till his heat burned at the undercurve of my buttocks.

  “Spread!” he ordered.

  “Spread what?” My voice quavered.

  “Those big blushing cheeks of yours.”

  “But why?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  I realized that his question was rhetorical, so I kept quiet. I didn’t want to make him angry.

  “You’ve been pretty cooperative and that’s made things easier for me, so I guess I’ll be a nice guy and make things easier for you.” He stood up, reached around me, and tweaked my nipples. “How’s that, girl?”

  “Very good, sir. Thank you, sir.” I was referring both to his sentiment of concern and, secretly, to his handiwork.

  “Tit for tat,” he said as he repeated the gesture, this time a bit harder. “Now, bend right over and let me see you pull those wet little panties all the way down…real slowly.”

  This is making it easier for me? I thought as I hesitated, because my panties were down as far as they could go, considering the position my legs were in.

  “You may close your legs for this. Just slip off those silk knickers and then we’ll get back to business.”

  I tried to concentrate on the loud ticks of his watch rather than on the louder sounds of his labored breathing, and my own. Anything to remove me from myself somewhat, while performing such a lewd display for him.

  “Stop right there,” he instructed brusquely, the moment my fingers brought the small, filmy garment to my ankles. “Step out of them.”

  I did.

  He circled slowly back around until he was standing right in front of me. “Hand them to me.”

  I obeyed.

  “Spread your legs again, just like before, bend over, and look up at me.”

  I followed those last two orders with some reluctance, for I guessed exactly what I’d see when I looked up. And I was right. My eyes were greeted by the sight of him rubbing my fragrant underwear over his mouth and nose, inhaling deeply and appreciatively.

  “Nothing fishy here. Just the scent of a good, healthy
cunt,” he assured me with a lascivious grin.

  I forced myself to keep looking up at him even though I felt mortified and my back and neck were aching. I wanted desperately to straighten up, but I didn’t dare. I watched as he took one last lingering whiff and then tossed my panties to where the rest of my clothes lay.

  Suddenly, I felt a thick finger slipping into my hungry, wet hole. My eager muscles gripped him spasmodically and automatically. It was now out of my control.

  “This is what I meant by making it easier for you.” He wiggled his finger around inside me and pushed it in and out a few times, the slurping sound of my churned-up juices making me wince with embarrassment as I moaned with pleasure.

  “We don’t need all this for lubrication,” he commented, “though it would be a real shame to waste it. Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes, sir,” I whispered just before groaning as I felt his digit withdrawing gradually from my tight grip.

  I watched him as he licked his finger slowly and with great relish.

  “Umm. Delicious,” he complimented me, then ran his tongue in exaggerated circles around his lips before smacking them loudly in appreciation.

  All I could do was remain bent over, looking up at him, listening to his slurpy, sloppy noises as he made a meal out of my all-too-obvious arousal.

  He gave his finger one last long suck and officiously announced, “Back to business now.”

  He marched around till he was again behind me and then reinserted his finger, easily working up more of my juices. “Now spread those big, beautiful asscheeks for me, girl.”

  Reluctantly, I complied and waited uneasily for the assault that I knew was imminent. He made me hold that humiliating pose for what seemed like ages. It was so strange and awkward to feel the cool air and his hot breath invading the privacy of my most-hidden place.

  I shrieked in surprise when I felt the cool dampness of his lubricated finger teasingly brushing the tender skin around my anus. Reflexively, my cheeks clenched in fear, my asshole tightened.

  “You’re only going to make this more difficult than it has to be if you don’t loosen up and cooperate with the examination.” He briskly slapped my bottom with his free hand.

  It was incredibly hard to relax while visualizing how my butt flesh was jiggling under his spanking hand and how my shy anal pucker was being brazenly displayed and completely exposed, yet I put my mind to it and really tried.

  “That’s it, girl, that’s the way,” he encouraged as he firmly pressed his stiff finger against my back hole. “Relax, baby. Open up. Open up for inspection.”

  He pressed and pushed increasingly harder until my poor, exhausted sphincter gave up the fight. I felt a strange mixture of discomfort, shame, and desire as he inched his thick intruder up my virgin ass.

  “That’s it. That’s right. Good girl,” he chanted in time with the in-and-out motions of his probing finger. “Take it all, baby. Take it all for me.”

  “Ooh. Ooh,” I moaned. “Oh God. Aah,” I groaned as his finger forced itself deeper and deeper into my tight canal.

  “I guess you’re not hiding any contraband up here, but I must say, you certainly seem to be enjoying this very crucial examination. You really are a dirty little slut, aren’t you?”

  He made firm circles with his finger as he drilled in and out, widening the route with his efforts.

  “Ooh. Oh,” I moaned. “Uh. Uh. Uh.”

  “A little harder for Madame, perhaps?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but jabbed harder.

  He jabbed. I groaned.

  “How about another finger?”

  He answered my heartfelt cries by squeezing in another one. I grunted and pushed up against his palm as he sawed steadily in and out of me and reached around to tug on my pendant tits.

  “You know, there’s one last place I have to search,” he teased softly as he continued his steady prodding. “Save the best for last, huh?”

  His hand left my breast and I heard the sound of a zipper opening and pants dropping to the floor. I felt a thick, rigid cock between my shaking legs. It jerked up and hit my aching cunt hard. I could feel myself dripping onto it.

  “Don’t straighten up. Get down on all fours.”

  We moved as one. He sank down to his knees right behind me, his prick between my legs, his fingers wedged in my ass, his other hand squeezing my tit.

  “You know, girl, you’re getting my dick awfully wet. That’s a little rude, isn’t it?”

  “Sorry, sir,” I gasped, as I felt it twitching and bobbing against me, causing my inner muscles to spasm in sympathy.

  “You’re dying for the final search, aren’t you, slut?” He was teasing me mercilessly.

  I could only manage to nod my head between pants and moans.

  “You know, I don’t have to just use my fingers.” He tormented my pussy by running a titillating finger along my gaping slit.

  “I know that, sir,” I somehow managed to reply.

  “Do you know what else I could put in that hot, greedy cunt of yours?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Is that what you need?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Is that what you’re really here for, girl?”

  “Yes, sir. That is what I’m here for. Yes!”

  “Then beg me for it,” he drawled as he twisted my nipple.

  “Please, please!” I cried.

  “Please what?” he taunted.

  “Please do the final search, sir,” I groaned, all pride gone.

  “The final search?” he whispered in mock innocence as he achingly-slowly inserted a finger just barely into my cunt.

  “Yes, sir. Please!” I was desperate to be fucked. I craved something big and stiff inside me so I could clutch and grind on it. “Please, I’m begging you. Do the final search. It has to be done to me. Please, sir, you’ve got to do it to me!”

  “With what?” he chuckled.

  “With your prick!” I gasped. “Just shove your prick into me, now! Please, now! I want it now! I have to have it inside me now!”

  “That wasn’t so hard, was it? But it’s a damn good thing this is.” He gripped his solid meat and positioned it at the pulsing, voracious mouth of my cunt.

  I screamed out in a large measure of relief mixed with a sudden shock of momentary pain as he impaled me completely with one savage thrust of his thick, delicious cock. My ass was full of his fingers, my gripping pussy was stuffed with dick, and with two fingers he beat off my clit as if it were a little phallus. I lowered my upper body and rested on my forearms, so that my hands were free to play with my tits and I was in a good position to buck strongly back at him.

  We fucked and fucked like wild, rutting animals. I have no idea how long we banged and slammed hard against each other or how many times I came, or he did. All I do know for sure is that when it was over, we collapsed onto the floor, totally spent, panting and sweating. We lay there for some time, too wiped out to move or even speak.

  After a time I became uncomfortable, but I knew that it was not for me to make the first move or utter the first word. I lay compliantly under him, waiting for whatever might come next. It was all in his hands—just as I was.

  Abruptly, he rose, quickly pulling up and zipping his pants. I turned my head to look up at him and he gestured for me to stand and face him. He ran strong, possessive hands all over my body, making my breath quicken and my skin tingle with fresh waves of arousal.

  “We must do this again, Miss,” he intoned solemnly, reaching between my legs and tugging none-too-gently on my bush for emphasis.

  I almost gushed enthusiastically back at him that we certainly must, but I was startled into mute submission by his sober, severe expression.

  “Same time tomorrow.” It was an order, not a request.

  “Yes, sir. Same time tomorrow.” I nodded obediently and shivered as he squeezed my tits, which seemed to be his way of saying g
ood-bye.

  I watched in silence as he strode to the door and opened it wide, without even bothering to check if there was anyone in the hall. He stood in the doorway and turned around to look at me, taking all of me into him, from my stiletto-shod feet, up my stocking-clad legs, over my hairy mound, my rounded white belly, my heavy breasts, my neck, my face, my wild auburn curls. But he saw much more than my nude flesh—he saw my naked lust, my exposed desire, my complete openness and utter submission to him. His total and intimate knowledge of my very being made it impossible for me to meet his gaze. I held my breath, lowered my eyes, and felt a fiery blush spreading over my trembling body.

  “And wear those shoes again,” he ordered gruffly.

  As I heard the door click shut, I let out a deep sigh, licked my smiling lips, and felt my cunt twitch in anticipation.

  ENDYMION

  A. D. R. Forte

  “So…seduce him.”

  “I can’t do that, Will!”

  “Why? Because you report directly to him?” Will looked around the canvas and raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  “I don’t buy it, Ari. You aren’t going to let something like that stop you. You’re a libertine.”

  She shook her head, flustered, and Will frowned. “Stay still, please, missy. I’m trying to work here.”

  “Haven’t you seen me naked often enough to know what I look like by now?”

  Will grinned and returned to his work.

  “Can’t ever see too much of a good thing.”

  Will painted, and she tried to sit still, all the while fuming. What she wanted to do was get up and pace across the studio and kick things. She thought of all her missed opportunities. Nights when Jesse stayed late at the office. Nights when she might have dared to find out whether his appetite matched hers.

  How simple it would have been to open his door. Close and lock it after she stepped inside. She could picture him turning from his monitor, faltering in his usual brief, faultlessly polite greeting. He would have given in—forgetting morals and propriety, forgetting consequences in the heat of her arms around his neck, her mouth….

  “Arianne!”

  Will’s voice penetrated her daydream; the millionth such one.