Elsa nodded, relieved to think whatever temporary displeasure he’d felt had passed. “Yes. Thank you for letting me sleep in.”
“I felt you probably needed it,” he said slowly, “considering the late hour you finally decided to come to bed!”
Elsa’s heart gave a little flutter. “Oh. I thought you were asleep and tried not to wake you.”
“Uh-huh. Very considerate,” he said tartly. “You were told to be in bed at a certain time. Why didn’t you do that?”
“Well,” she said earnestly, “the story was working out so very well, I hated to stop.”
“Then you should have asked permission to stay up.”
“But I didn’t want to wake you up.”
A disapproving frown furrowed Robert’s brow, and grasping the top of the warm covers he pealed these off of her. Elsa lay naked before his eyes, and though the room was temperate her skin tingled with goose bumps. As his voice took a firmer pitch, she felt small and vulnerable. “I’d much prefer you do that than disobey me, Elsa.”
She flushed with anxiety as he looked her over, head to toe. His expression was unreadable so Elsa could only guess what he was thinking.
But when suddenly he dipped a finger gingerly to the little cleft between her breasts and trailed it across the mounds of her breasts she wondered if perhaps he was in a better mood than it sounded.
“You’re still a very attractive woman, you know that?” he said softly, and she saw the telltale quick lick of his lips as he grasped both her breasts now, very gently, and began to massage them. His touch enlivened her with sensation, and as he traced the outline of her nipples they felt electrified.
“My god, woman, you have grown children now, and I find you every bit as sexy as the first time we met.”
Elsa blushed. “Same here, Master.”
The corners of Robert’s mouth turned up in a smoldering smile. His hands skimmed down over her hips, and bending down he kissed her stomach. His tongue flicked in and out of her naval, tickling her so that she trembled with laughter. Robert sat up again, and stroked her cheek.
“I love you so much,” he said.
She was spellbound by the love in his eyes. They had been married almost fourteen years, and still her body craved him. She loved being lost in his possession; her senses titillated and bound by his masterful touch.
It was a hunger that never waned; whetted and sharpened with every passing day of their lives. And, she knew, it was because he was her yang and she his yin. As trite as that sounded, it had been proven through all the years of trials and tribulations they’d shared together.
Through poverty woes and career disappointments; despite the battle against lupus Elsa had faced not too long ago, and regardless of the pressures of her family who didn’t like Robert and his own mother who resented Elsa. They had made it, without any regrets.
She loved Robert with a passion and warmth that would live on beyond death; and she knew, without any doubt whatsoever, that he felt the same.
Elsa made a husky murmur and shifted her hips evocatively against his thigh.
“Does my little slave girl want something?” he smiled.
“Oh, yes Master...” she cooed, and pinched her nipples and rolled the achy flesh between her thumbs and forefingers. He would probably consider it a wanton act —she wasn’t supposed to try and entice him except when he told her to- but she was pleased to see it brought a lusty glint in his eyes.
Robert stood up from the bed and began to undress. In the daylight she could better admire his strongly-built body and firm muscles. For a man in his middle years he was a powerhouse. He’d always had the sexiest legs she’d ever seen, and endowed with a cock large enough to put most men to shame. Even better, he knew how to use it and his hands and mouth, too.
Elsa rolled over on her side and ogled him, feeling her pussy throbbing and growing slick. He stood only in his briefs now and the fabric taut against his cock, outlining the contours and bulge.
“Scoot over on that bed,” he whispered. And as she did he pulled off the briefs and got on and lay on his back. “Come here... I want to taste that sweet pussy.”
Elsa grinned wantonly and straddled his chest with her ass toward him and inched her hips until her sex hovered over his face. Robert grasped her hips and pulling her down, lavished kisses over her nether mouth. She draped over him then and took his cock in her hands. How hard it was, and she licked the length of it as with his thumbs he gently unfolded her nether lips.
His tongue flicked over her clit, sending little sparks of sensation pealing through her. Elsa held his cock firmly now and suckled it. How good, how perfectly the huge organ slid in and out of her mouth. She stroked it and nursed hungrily, while Robert sucked and nibbled her clit. The sensation this gave was cruel in its pleasure and she began to lose focus on what she was doing.
“Suck me good, little slave,” he crooned, “or you won’t be able to sit at all today!”
And as she concentrated on sucking him her own passion swept away all conscious thought. She was one with the pleasure she both gave and endured. Her hips undulated as his tongue lavished over her throbbing clit, but she took satisfaction in feasting on him. The pleasure inside her climaxed with a rush of sublime sensation. She moaned, and for a second released him and savored the poignant waves that coursed through her. But he raised a hand and gave her ass a warning spank.
“Don’t you stop now,” he whispered firmly.
“Yes, sir!” she moaned.
Elsa held his cock dearly and sucked harder. And when at last he came, she swallowed every last drop.
She licked the length of him clean and kissed his taut balls. Robert grabbed the ends of her hair and pulled her back so she lay on top of him, and lavished her throat with kisses.
“Mmmm,” he murmured.
Elsa rolled over beside him and hugged him. She kissed his chest and with a fingertip, made circles around one of his nipples. “You’re still the taste I crave most, Master.”
For some time Robert stroked her hair and they lay quietly on the cozy bed. Elsa was just beginning to feel drowsy again. “I better get up and take a shower. I still have a little to finish on the new manuscript this afternoon.”
He gave her a little squeeze and kissed the top of her head. He chuckled as he said, “Well, I’m going to mow the lawn this afternoon while you do that. If you can sit to write, that is.”
Elsa felt a new pang of anxiety. Apparently, he’d not forgotten about punishing her.
“Sit up,” he said. As she did he sat up as well, and swung his legs over the far side of the bed. “Don’t even bother walking. Just crawl right over here across my lap.”
Elsa frowned, but she obeyed, crawling to his right side and laying herself across his muscled thighs. He hoisted her forward some, so her hips centered right over one of his thighs. Elsa’s arms dangled over the other, and she had to stare at the floor as his hard palm of his right hand skimmed over her buttocks.
With his left he captured the length of her hair firmly so she couldn’t move her head back without it pulling. She breathed hard, expecting the spanking at any moment, when he suddenly pried her thighs apart. Still clenching her hair, he stroked her moist pussy lips. He smacked her clit and stroked it until she was so aroused her hips were undulating.
Elsa was mortified, but she couldn’t help but moan as he penetrated her with two fingers. Deep and slow he fucked her; her scalding juices spurted over his fingers. And just as she was about to cum he again tortured her clit again; massaging it between two fingers, tweaking it and spanking it until the pleasure pounded inside her.
“Oh, Master!” she cried.
With that he released her clit and raised his outstretched palm. He flayed her helpless buttocks with chastising spanks. The pain of it was made more excruciating for the lingering pleasure he’d whetted. Hard and long he spanked her; until her ass felt swollen and raw. But she was fomenting with passion, and this mortification made her weep
as the spanking alone could not.
At last Robert seemed content. She was still crying as he gave each of her throbbing buttocks a squeeze. “Yep, it’s going to be hard sitting for you today, my little lady. Maybe next time you’ll abide to your bedtime. And if you truly feel the need to stay up late to work- ask me next time!”
“Yes, Master,” she sniffed.
“Good,” he mused. Releasing her hair, he helped her stand beside him where she faced him. She stood there with her hands meekly behind her back. The warmth that radiated off her buttocks made her more miserable, more resigned to obey him.
“Now,” he said, taking her hand and giving it a kiss. “After your shower, I want you naked for the rest of the day.”
She pouted but did not argue. But seeing the frustration on her face he gave an unyielding smile and said, “It’ll give me the convenience to bend you over any moment I deem you need a reminder that I’m serious about this.”
“Yes, Master.”
Robert stood up then and lacing his arms around her waist, hugged her to him. “And remember, Elsa, you still are, and always will be, my slave girl. If I reach my ninetieth birthday I’ll still be your Master. I plan to love and discipline you as long as we live, even when we’ve both reached the Summer Land.”
He lifted her off the floor and kissed her mouth. His taste made her delirious with mounting desire. How strong, supple his muscles were against her kneading hands, and his smell now decadent by their lovemaking. He steadied her on her feet again and pulled her arms to her sides, then tweaked her nipples and probed her damp sex. He massaged her tenderly, so tenderly as to be merciless.
“I plan to keep you well heated,” he murmured. “But you keep those little hands behaved... no touching yourself other than scrubbing that little yummy pussy.”
She smiled, relishing the intoxicating sense of belonging to him. “Yes, my love.”
A soft glow came to his eyes. For a moment it seemed to her he hadn’t aged a day since they’d met. And then she understood that while their bodies had aged, their souls never had. In truth, they were young and vibrant forever in each other’s eyes. This was the secret of heaven they’d discovered together on earth. Whatever untruths that mortal delusion played on the body and the earthly perceptions, souls were immune to that delusion.
Again he took her hand, and kissing it once more, spun her about on her feet and prodded her toward the door. He gave her bottom a smart spank. It chafed her sensitive flesh and honed her passion to a bold, keen flame.
“You’re my love, too,” he said as he directed out the room, “always.”
The End
King Vale
by
Desiree Erotique©2006-2008
*note* The following story was originally posted at Novelspot. All rights reserved by author.
King Vale was the wealthiest of four brothers; but he held no respect from his mother, Urtha, goddess of the World. For unlike her other sons, Vale was sparing with his riches and spurned simple pleasures and jovial companions.
For many years Vale’s was a stingily kept hall; an eyesore and shame to his people. The hall was ancient and supposed to be sacred to the gods as within it resided the inner temple of the god, Skaldi.
The people grumbled over the neglect of the hall and the king’s long refusal to hire servants and carpenters. But to win his mother’s goodwill King Vale at last set out to make the hall beautiful once more.
He hired the services of skilled silver smiths and gold smiths, carpenters and crafters of all manner in order to refurbish the hall; and to fill it with gaiety he engaged the best musicians and singers, skalds and runesters to come dwell there. Lovely maids were brought in to serve his warriors, and renowned cooks from lands far and wide installed to oversee the kitchen.
For a time King Vale was content by the distinction the artisans brought him and by the tasteful additions they had provided the hall. Urtha was very happy now and there was peace between Vale’s domain and that of his brothers. No one in his land hungered or knew strife, and all were proud to boast that theirs was a kingdom where both labor and fine pleasures were valued.
Yet Vale's great wealth diminished by the upkeep of the artisans, so that soon he was no wealthier than the simple goat herders or fishermen of the outlying villages. King Vale knew only anger and frustration, for not even the contentment of his people could match his desire to possess more than those around him.
So one night whilst all else slept King Vale summoned to his hall the Guls, the children of the darkling elves, who were mighty trolls with strange appetites.
"My artisans and servants have robbed me of my wealth," King Vale said to the Guls, "I should be master of these servants, not their peer. But if I hinder their cache, my brothers will laugh, saying I am tight-pursed, and my mother shall lose Her pride for me. I beseech your aid; what do you ask in turn?"
The Guls did not need much time to think, for the only things which they craved were trinkets and all manner of petty things. Thus King Vale bestowed upon them all shiny medals and lofty titles within his court. In turn, the Guls went into the rooms of the artisans and ate them each and every one; and adorned their blood-stained forms in the semblance of their victims.
Assuming their appearance, the Guls looked to outsiders to be the very artisans and crafters whom they’d devoured. And without these servants to house and pay King Vale's wealth again grew.
All was well for a time in the hall of the king, until the beautiful things which the artisans had created began to crumble and tarnish in turn. But there was no one left to refurbish these precious things, for those who had created them were dead and their apprentices, who had suspected their fate, had long fled the land.
King Vale’s court was soon falling down around him. His mother became disapproving and would not speak to him. The vision of his poorer but happier brothers intruded upon Vale’s every indignant thought. His pride wounded beyond repair, King Vale gnashed his teeth and rent his hair.
Never again, he vowed, would he sacrifice his own status for the compensation of servants; and yet, his present shame was unbearable. King Vale denounced the souls of the artisans and all they had created, and in despair, offered his own life to the Guls. Indeed the Guls, who cared only to sate their own appetites, obliged the King. They tore his limbs from his body and feasted on his flesh and entrails, then left the land in search of a new master with shiny medals and lofty titles to bestow.
The Fierce Beast of Voldya
by
Desiree Erotique©2007-2008
This story originally appeared at Novelspot. All rights retained by the author.
With thanks to Claudia McRay
"Men fear thought as they fear nothing else on earth— more than ruin, more even than death."
-Bertrand Russell
The city of Voldya was more wholesome than most, and the pride of its citizens and leaders. The Voldyans had long ago vanquished the last of their forebears and spurned all reminiscences of their decadent past. A new priesthood had risen in the ashes of that past, proponents of a simple and temperate faith.
There was no tolerance to be found in enlightened Voldya for superstitious idols or mementoes. Most notably scorned was any written word about antiquated practices. For like all virtuous people the Voldyans held that the surest path to moral degeneracy lies in the reading of it.
Thus it was the ambition of every Voldyan city leader to ensure that their people were the most exemplary models of morality. Criminal offenses –which had become many since the embrace of the new faith were dealt with swiftly and without tolerance.
So virtuous a reputation had Voldya earned that the infirm and old kings of the land often came to live out their last days there. It was said among the foreign that to die in this Voldya was to prostrate one’s immortal soul before the very steps of Heaven.
It came to pass that one day a band of thieves descended upon the fair streets of Voldya. In disguise of travelers they v
isited the shops along the avenues, taking small items here and there, which they hid inside their clothing. Onto the market place in the town square the thieves proceeded, where they stole what they could lift under the very eyes of the merchants.
So skilled were these thieves at their pilfering that no one suspected the amount of precious trinkets hidden inside their vestments. They became bold in their talk as they gathered in the alley near a private home to compare their individual successes for the day, and discussed their intention to return on Sunday.
Their plan was to rob the richer homes while the citizens were praying at the Temple. Unbeknownst to the thieves this home belonged to the Mayor of Voldya, and in their boasting they had failed to note that one of the windows was open.
The scrub woman was standing just inside and she’d listened to their conversation. At length she went to the Mayor and told him all she'd heard. The Mayor crept out the back door and went to the sheriff with the news. At once the sheriff’s men rounded up the thieves as they dallied on the steps of the council house.
The thieves, as brazen as their plan had been, were young men all and had never been arrested. They did not know that Voldya custom dictated that all thieves were to be penalized by public hanging. In hope of finding lenience they easily confessed to their crimes and affirmed the plans they’d made for the night to come.
The Mayor, however, was indignant about their boasting having been done so close to his own house, and ordered them sent to the torture chamber under the town hall. Here, the young men were sent, and the Mayor himself ordered their various tortures: the rack and the burning of their flesh, denial of food and of sleep.
The tortured were forced to confess all the things their inquisitors asked. The Mayor hoped for some information about the criminals’ land of birth and individual families, and in particular if they had family who might consider retaliation on Voldya when news of the hangings came to be known.
Adieu, Bonjour Page 4