Ours?
She heard a daunting click, followed by the low murmur of what sounded like two male voices—two unfamiliar male voices. Her heart leapt into her chest and she scrambled to flee, but a steel arm held her in place, as did the fingers still lodged deep inside her. “Shhhh,” he whispered. “I told you, we’re not going to hurt you…at least, no more than can be helped.”
“But—” Her voice cracked and a tear seeped into her blindfold. She froze when she heard the men approaching.
“Jesus, he wasn’t kidding, was he?” a rough male voice asked, followed by the hiss of air through teeth that sounded like it came from someone else.
The man holding her placed a soft kiss on her hair. “No, he wasn’t,” he answered quietly, moving his fingers once again, drawing out her wetness. “She’s the most beautiful thing we’ll ever see.”
She could already hear them shedding their clothes, already hear the growing eagerness in their breath. Only the man who held her remained steady and calm. In some ways, he reminded her of Him.
Him.
Her heart ached, despite the growing pleasure pulsing between her legs. But she knew that’s what He wanted for her. Pain to go with the pleasure.
“I want her mouth,” the rough voice said.
A moment later, hard flesh slipped between her lips. She choked back a sob, struggling to take him in.
“She’s a petite little thing,” came a voice she hadn’t heard yet. “Think she’ll be able to take us all?”
“Yes,” the man behind her whispered, still fingering her. “She’ll take us all. She’s strong, this one.” He swiped his thumb back and forth over her clitoris, and she could do nothing but let the dam break. She came hard on his fingers, arching in his arms, swallowing up flesh, consumed by hands, and fear, and pain, and lust. She came for Him, the one who watched her, the one who gave her away, the one who loved her.
“Master,” she breathed, as the last of the wave receded. Around her, she heard the strains of control in the men who touched her, groped her. Her orgasm had enflamed their hunger, heated their desires. She shuddered at the knowledge that her time with them had only just begun. All she wanted to do was melt away, to have Him come and take her in His arms now, to say that was as far as He would let them go. But alas, such was not the case.
By the time dawn emerged, she lay facedown on the rumpled sheets, alone. They had finally left.
She couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but lie there. The tears had dried on her face long ago.
Vaguely, she heard a click at the door. She tried to open her eyes, but couldn’t. A moment later, she felt the dip of the bed and took in the familiar scent she’d been waiting for.
“Master,” she murmured.
Strong hands took her aching body and gently pulled her into a cradle. “I’m here.”
Fresh tears suddenly burst forth and she clung to Him. He offered no apology, no explanation, just simply held her. “Tell me something,” He said, stroking her hair with the utmost tenderness, “did you like it?”
She swallowed down a sob, choking on the truth she was too scared to reveal. But she sensed He knew already. “No,” she whispered, more tears falling. “I loved it.”
OKTOBERFEST ADDICTION
Roxanna Cross
Order up,” Sam yells from behind the pass. I grab the heavy tray with trepidation. This is one order I don’t want to deliver. I don’t know why it bothers me so much. No, that’s not true. I know exactly why. Graham Stenson. The man sitting at my last table, waiting for the order on my tray. A beer-braised hot dog with braised sauerkraut with some spicy Guinness mustard on the side and a pint of Hacker-Pschorr Original Oktoberfest beer. The tray wobbles underneath my fingertips as I start to serve him his meal. The bastard doesn’t even have the decency to look up. Still, I’m a professional. I plaster on my brightest smile. “Let me know if I can get you anything else,” I say and twirl away.
I know my long legs look amazing in this Oktober-fest beer-wench uniform I’m rocking. The green grass with pink petticoat skirt hits me midthigh, the brown suede with blood-red corsage hugs my curves to a T, and the white scoop-neck top barely covers my overflowing chest. If he can resist that, then he can go to hell for all I care. The flutter of butterflies in the pit of my stomach when I feel his gaze on me as I walk through the festival crowd tells me I’m in big trouble.
“Thought I didn’t recognize this sweet mouth of yours, didn’t you?” He winks and rocks his pelvis forward, ramming his cock deeper down my throat. It’s thick and hard and coated with a layer of the spicy Guinness mustard I served him earlier. I almost choke on it. My eyes water. By instinct my body fights against the restraints he’s put me in. I try to free my arms that are now tied with my own ribbon corsage behind my back in the same chair he sat on. My feet attempt to kick out, but they’re also firmly tied to said chair with the red ribbons he took from the ends of my alpine braids. The sick bastard. I hate him. I should bite his dick off. I know I’ll do no such thing.
Ever since I walked away, nearly four years ago, I’ve been miserable. I didn’t understand how much I need… this. As twisted and crazy as it is, I crave it. Like a drug. My pussy clenches in anticipation. I’m so wet I feel the moisture of my own juices against my panties. Graham slides his cock out of my mouth and lets a generous amount of spicy mustard dribble all over its bulging veins before inching it back in. “Lick me,” he orders.
Aiming to please I run my tongue the length of his long shaft. The strong taste of Guinness and mustard seed greets my taste buds, as does the bitter one of red wine vinegar, before I’m hit with the spices: a pleasant mix of cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, and allspice. When I reach his distended head, I suckle it deep, rolling my tongue under its sensitive skin.
“Fuck.” He pinches my nipple, hard, and rocks his cock deep inside my throat. “Now look what you’ve made me do.” He slaps my nipple and continues to fuck my mouth without any of his rigid control. His strokes are wild and frantic. Soon his hands are in my hair, his fingers pulling it at the roots until I’m sure I’ll need a hair transplant because he’s pulling so hard. Yet, I wouldn’t ask him to stop for the world. I’ve missed this. Craved it. Jeez, he’s like a drug to me. And I’m just like an addict who fell off the wagon and right into the arms of her favorite bouquet. I can’t get enough of him.
I let his cock barrel into my swollen lips, graze my palate, and choke my vocal cords as it rams into my mouth deeper with each of his thrusts. Tears stream down my cheeks from the joy I feel to be his once more. I don’t care that his fingers pulling my hair create fiery sparks in my skull. Or that my lips are going numb. It’s worth it. He’s worth it. The swelling of his cock against my tongue. His breath accelerating to a tempo a salsa dancer would envy. His precious control—gone. Because of little old me. I do this to him; I have this power over him. This revelation makes my heart swell and gives me the courage to endure the pain.
Graham’s cock continues to rocket in and out of my mouth. The pressure of his fingers in my hair doesn’t lessen and my pussy is now thoroughly drenched. I feel it. That ball of fire in the pit of my belly almost ready to explode. “Drink,” he grunts and his cock shoots a load of hot come down my throat. As commanded, I drink and drink the hot salty liquid until there’s none left. “Fuck, babe, I love that sweet mouth of yours,” he growls before claiming my lips in a bruising kiss. His tongue demands everything of me. It doesn’t dance or offer a sweet caress; no, it rolls with savage hunger as his teeth nip and bite. I fucking love it. His hands have released my hair. Thank the lord. But his long fingers are now busy circling my clit, making me squirm in my seat.
“Your turn to be my tasty treat.” He dips his finger in what’s left of the spicy mustard and spreads it on my clit and pink lips. He brings his nose close to my pussy to breathe me in. “You smell delicious.” The tremors of his voice so close to my dripping core have me lifting my butt off of the chair, offering my pussy to him. With a wild ap
petite, he spears into me, mixing my natural cream with the mustard he spread on me. A deep moan escapes my lips. His mouth covers my clit. I melt. The ball of fire is nearing the combustion point. “I know, babe.” He blows on my clit. I squirm. His tongue runs the length of my slit and then spears inside. Faster and faster he fucks me with his tongue. I’m panting. I can’t control it; the ball of fire explodes and my pussy squirts and squirts, showering his tongue and chin in my juices. He laps it all up with glee. “Fuck, babe, I love that sweet pussy of yours too. Can’t get enough of you. Do you understand?” he asks, eyes bright and a bit wild. I nod. As if my nod is not enough for him, he grabs my chin in his long fingers. “Say it,” he commands. “I understand.” I repeat it.
He makes quick work of my restraints, only to have me bent over the table, hands tied under it, legs spread wide apart, ankles tied to the table posts. Once satisfied with this new position, he places himself between my legs, leaving his thick erection resting on my lower back for a moment or two. “You’re my addiction, my drug, babe. Don’t you forget it.” And he slams into me. In our mutual addiction, we’ve found—home.
THIS TIME
Jade A. Waters
I stand here, naked. Legs spread, arms at my side.
Rowan circles me slowly, quietly, appraising my body as if memorizing my every curve.
He knows all of them already, has for over a decade, but it’s this game we like to play, sometimes. We are not fond of labels, but if I were to give him some, they would be husband, father, entrepreneur, intuitive, and kind. Sometimes, he is a sub. Sometimes, he is my Dom.
Today, he is my lover—which is all that really matters, to me.
So as he reaches out, trailing one finger around my waist, sending tingles up and down equally at the prospect of what will come, I am not surprised when he commands me this time, his voice calm but firm from behind.
“Lift up your arms.”
I do, enjoying the sparkle in his eyes when he comes round to face me again. He takes two hands to me, one for each breast, molding them in his palms before making me jump with a pinch of my nipples.
“How do you want me?”
I am smiling, because we both love this question, posed in either direction—a challenge, a promise, an offer, all the same. I will give you what you want, it says, but I will have you, too. And so I raise my chin, keeping my arms aloft, feeling the sweep of lust that’s already dampened the folds of my cunt. My heart pounds at the glide of Rowan’s hands over my hips as he waits for me to speak.
“I want you deep,” I say.
“And?”
“I want you hard.”
He presses close, his bare chest electrifying my nipples, his cock straining inside his pants and rubbing, just so, against my sensitive clit. He shifts his hands around to my ass, cupping it before tugging me hard into him.
“And?” he asks.
I can feel his heart pounding in his chest, too.
“And I want you right here”—I pause—“now.”
“Ah-ha…”
Now, I’ve caught him. I’ve turned it back on him, but the momentary surprise fades as he releases one side of my ass to unfasten his pants. They are open swiftly, down around his ankles, and I’m delighted to see he’s caught me, too.
Today, he wears nothing beneath.
“Keep your hands up until I say,” Rowan whispers, and so I stay spread, open, riled as he walks back around me. He nudges me forward just enough to guide his cock along my folds, then sinks inside.
“Fuck,” I murmur.
“Oh, we will.”
His words are a grumble on my back as he drives again. When he crushes me in his arms, I want to bring mine down to touch him, but I strive to keep them up, to move against him as he slams inside.
“Just like this?” he asks, and I know I don’t need to answer. We move wildly, me bucking back, reaching up like I’m on the best ride of my life, his hold on my hips yanking me into him. It’s hard to balance when he moves faster, but I dig my toes into the carpet, gritting my teeth as he pushes, and pushes again. He fills me hard and fast, lovingly yet rough, lips planting sporadic kisses on my back. With his next thrust I gasp, because he’s caught me again, fingers reaching around, rubbing at my clit until I can hardly see. Heat rips through my body, shaking me completely as he fucks me with all he has. When he latches on to my shoulder with sharp teeth I cannot contain the cry that spills from my lips, can’t stop my arms from falling down, the claw of my hands seeking his hips behind me as I come and he fills me with the hot burst of him inside.
“Oh my god,” I moan. Rowan exhales shattered breaths against my back. Time moves slowly as we settle down. Once he releases me to draw his cock from inside and comes around to face me, he’s got a grin on his mouth.
“You put your arms down,” he says.
I wink, then shrug.
Rowan raises an eyebrow. He puts his finger on my belly, beginning to trace his slow circle around me again.
“Then, of course,” he says, “we’ll try this once more.”
HIS WIFE’S WONDERFUL COCKS
Dahlia Lovejoy
Colin has sucked his wife’s cock plenty of times—or rather, her cocks. Ananda has a whole collection of them in various sizes and shapes, in materials from glass to wood to silicone. He knows each one’s unique taste, the weight of it on his tongue, how it bumps against the roof of his mouth as she slides in and out. Her biggest is about ten inches long and as wide as a dollar bill. Taking it feels like swallowing an apple whole.
He loves it.
Tonight, the cock she has chosen for him is different. It’s one of flesh and blood, attached to the body of a naked twenty-seven-year-old named Ben with a blindfold around his eyes and a ball gag in his mouth. Colin isn’t usually inclined toward men, but even he can see Ben is gorgeous. His chest and abs are perfectly cut, his legs long and sinewy. Despite the bindings, Ben stands proudly in front of the gauze curtains of the hotel room window, the filtered sunshine forming a halo. Cast in marble, he’d certainly be mistaken for a Greek god.
Well, if it wasn’t for his huge erection. The Greeks tended to prefer their gods flaccid. Which is too bad, because Ben’s hard-on—its thickness and weight—bring balance to his proportions and make him all the more ideal in Colin’s sight. He can see why his wife likes this plaything.
Ananda motions for Colin to kneel in front of Ben. “Do you like the new dildo I brought for you?”
“Yes, Madam.” Colin falls to his knees. He’s been anticipating this moment ever since Ananda started to plan it a few weeks ago. He’s long been curious about how her cock would feel covered by skin instead of silicone, and with a warm, beating pulse at its center.
But he’s been dreading this moment too. He’s never sucked a real live dick before. What if he doesn’t like it? What if he does something wrong? What if he can’t make Ben come? What if he doesn’t want to make Ben come? Ben might be Ananda’s plaything, but he isn’t Ananda.
This is the moment of truth. Ben’s cock stares Colin right in the face, growing harder, expanding like a lung, its veins twitching as blood pumps through them. The skin flushes the way Ananda’s labia do when she’s turned on.
Colin has the urge to lick it.
Huh. Maybe he didn’t need to be so worried after all.
Ananda applies a clamp to Ben’s left nipple and tightens the screw. The slightest moan escapes around the fabric in his mouth. In his blurry near vision, Colin sees the head of Ben’s cock glisten. Colin can smell it, too—the sharp, masculine scent of precome. The scent makes him woozy.
“Are you ready to suck my flesh dildo, sweet? You’re so good with your mouth.”
Colin folds his hands primly behind his back and adjusts his knees on the Berber carpet. “Yes, Madam.”
“Then open up.” Ananda sidles up behind Ben, her pelvis snug to his ass but a little off-kilter so that her curvy hip peeks out past the straight lines of Ben’s waist and thigh. Against th
e haze of sunlight, Ananda’s and Ben’s bodies blur together; if Colin squints, it looks almost as if Ben’s cock is jutting from between her own thighs. “It’s time for you to show me what you can take.”
She nudges Ben forward and his swollen cockhead brushes against Colin’s lips. The texture is silken and inviting, not so different from Ananda’s mouth when they kiss. So Colin kisses back, closing his lips around Ben’s foreskin, pushing it back gently as Ben begins the slow drive in. It’s not too different from Ananda’s other cocks, just warmer and…saltier. The foreskin feels different, too, in the way it clings to Colin’s touch. It reminds him of the delicate folds of Ananda’s labia. His own cock grows heavy.
Ben grunts something indecipherable but pleasured-sounding. Ananda reaches around Ben’s hips to grab Colin’s hair. “So pretty with your lips around my flesh-dildo, sweet. Ready to take more?”
Colin grunts his assent. She yanks him forward by his hair so the head of Ben’s cock weighs solidly on the center of his tongue. Ananda’s grip grows tighter, sending fine threads of pain through his scalp. “Open wider, sweet. I’m going to fuck your mouth.”
With a quick thrust of her hips, she propels Ben’s pelvis forward. Ben’s crown bumps against Colin’s soft palate, precome barely easing the friction. Ananda thrusts at just the right pace, which means it’s faster than Colin would dare accomplish on his own. His chest prickles with sweat. His cock stands higher, bumping against Ben’s calf.
Ben’s moans become increasingly desperate with each thrust, and when Colin relaxes his throat to let more in, the sound that Ben makes is enough to shake the paint from the walls. Ananda moans too, a forceful, feminine grunt that makes Colin’s cock ache.
There’s an art to deep-throating. It requires intense concentration and complete absence of ego, the willingness to bend and mold one’s muscles to an invading form. Colin must be alert for the smallest signs of resistance and quickly dismantle them. His wife’s satisfaction is paramount.
Big Book of Submission Volume 2 Page 14