by Violet Blue
“Shall we?” he said, holding out his arm once more.
I took it. “Where are we going?”
He knew I lived and worked on the outskirts of the city, but I had no idea where he lived. I hoped it was close. The anticipation of what we were about to do was making hormones pump through my body at a rapid pace, and as my clit swelled, every single step became torture and pleasure rolled into one.
“Not far,” he responded, leading me back toward the Metro station. Instead of walking down the long corridor to the platforms—which was lined with people selling fake designer goods, eager to catch tourists and commuters alike—he veered off to the right and into an area which held lifts and a staircase.
I frowned, wondering what was up from here. It was a public access area, so it obviously didn’t lead to any private dwellings or premises. Seconds later, the lift pinged its arrival, and, always the gentleman, William indicated I should go ahead of him. As soon as the doors closed—mercifully we hadn’t been joined by anyone else—he was upon me.
His hands grabbed my hips and pushed me against the grubby, graffiti-covered metal wall of the lift. Pinning me there with his entire body—and I certainly didn’t miss the fact that there was an eager erection pressing into my stomach—he leaned down to kiss me. Only it wasn’t just any kiss. It was the kiss I’d been craving for months. It was rough, possessive and so erotic that I was glad he was holding me up, otherwise my knees probably would have given out.
William’s agile tongue continued to plunder my mouth until the lift slowed to a stop. Instantly, he stepped away from me. As soon as the doors opened, he grabbed my hand and all but marched out, pulling me breathless and gaping behind him. I barely had time to register that we were now at the square at the top of the Spanish Steps before I was led quickly past the artists and flower sellers, then past the church and down the street opposite.
After a few twists and turns, I quickly lost my bearings, then began to wonder how far “not far” was. Before I had time to ask, we stopped in front of a nondescript-looking building. William released my hand, dug in his pocket and produced some keys. He slotted the relevant one into the lock, and milliseconds later was ushering me into the gloomy hallway. He then made sure the outside door was properly closed before starting to climb the staircase in front of him.
He said nothing, so I merely followed in silence up two flights, before coming to a stop as William unlocked his apartment door.
Once inside, I half expected him to pin me against the door and kiss me breathless like he had in the lift. Instead, he pointed to a door on the far side of the room, and said, “Go in there. Take off all of your clothes, put them neatly on the chair. Then bend over the bed and wait for me.”
I gave a small nod, then immediately moved to do his bidding. My blood thundered through my veins, and my pussy grew ever slicker. My clit was a veritable time bomb, needing but the briefest touch to make it explode. Entering the bedroom, I closed the door behind me and removed my clothes quickly, dropping them and my bag onto the chair as he’d requested.
Then I moved over to the bed, placed my palms on the mattress and bent over. As my ass pointed rudely into the air, I felt a trickle of my pussy juices slide down and coat my inner thighs. By now, I was in no doubt that William would coax lots more juices out of me, and a great many orgasms. My entire body buzzed with anticipation. Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait too much longer for my encounter to begin.
I closed my eyes as I heard the door open. It hadn’t been part of William’s orders, but I always felt everything so much more keenly when I was deprived of my sight. It also seemed to make my hearing sharper, and I used that benefit to try and work out what he was doing.
A soft click as he closed the bedroom door. Clothes brushing against one another as he crossed the room. More fabric sounds, and a zzzip as he undid his jeans. The soft thwap as each garment hit the floor. Movement. The opening…then the closing of a drawer. The unmistakable and incredibly erotic sound of…
He was right behind me. There was silence, but somehow I could sense him, and I even fancied I could feel the heat of his body permeating my naked skin.
“Good,” he said quietly, reaching out a hand to stroke my behind, “you’ve followed my directions exactly. Unfortunately for you, though, even good girls get punished.”
My heart rate increased at his words. I knew what he held in his free hand, and I was desperate to feel it on my flesh. I remained silent, waiting. Willing him to get on with it. To bring me to the earth-shattering climax I so needed.
I was so deep inside my own head, examining my wants and needs, that the first strike of the leather paddle actually took me by surprise. I couldn’t stop the yelp that burst from my lips, but I didn’t move. Proudly, I remained bent over the bed, my ass remaining resolutely elevated and waiting for the next hit. Already, the sting and the heat were morphing into something much more pleasurable, and my clit and vulva swelled. If William took the time to look, I was sure he would be presented with an incredibly lewd sight. I hoped he wouldn’t, though. Not yet. If he peeked now, he might not be able to resist thrusting his cock between my pouting labia and into my eager cunt. I wanted it, of course, but I could get straight sex anywhere.
First, I needed to have my kinky desires sated. And as the second strike landed on my eager buttocks, I thanked the inventor of the Internet for enabling me to find someone willing to do it, even though I was over a thousand miles from home with only a basic grip of the native language. I made no sound this time, merely sucking in a breath through my nostrils and enjoying the rush of endorphins that coursed through my bloodstream. My pussy throbbed. By the time William got around to fucking me, I’d probably have wetness running down to my ankles.
I wiggled my ass enticingly, inviting the next blow. My coquettishness obviously annoyed William, as he picked up his pace. Smacks three, four and five came in rapid succession, and I barely had a chance to absorb the feelings from each before the next one arrived. Despite this, he’d taken great care to ensure that he was covering different parts of my ass and even the tops of my thighs, so by the time he’d completed the round of punishment—fifteen spanks—the entire area was burning. You could have fried an egg on my ass.
I slumped down a little, resting my forehead on the bed, my chest heaving. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so incredibly horny. My cunt was so ready that I fancied it was gaping, ready to gobble the next cock that came within fucking distance, and my clit ached, almost to the point of pain.
I was on the knife-edge of climax, so when I heard the opening and closing of a drawer, the tearing of a wrapper and the snap of rubber, I quickly pushed myself back up on my arms, presenting my reddened ass to him once more. William stroked his finger along my vulva and finding me soaked, bothered with no further foreplay. With one hand he aimed his cockhead at my entrance, and with the other he gripped my asscheek.
He slid inside me to the hilt—I was so wet that he met with zero resistance—and I stretched to accommodate him. I hadn’t seen what my fellow Brit had to offer in the trouser department, but now that his cock was buried inside me, I knew he was blessed. Not ridiculously so, but enough to please any woman. Or man, for that matter.
I was wound so tight that I was convinced a mere puff of air against my clit would send me reeling into orgasm. But William was nowhere near as gentle as that. He began to thrust inside my saturated cunt, and the room was filled with a rude sucking sound that would have bordered on embarrassing if I hadn’t been so damn horny and desperate to come. He increased his pace, shoving inside me forcefully, his fingertips digging into my abused buttocks, sending fresh zings of pleasure/pain to my pussy.
His grunts and moans added to the sucking sounds, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before he came. The paddling he’d given me had obviously turned him on massively, too. I got my answer in kind when he reached around my hip, slipped his hand between my legs and pinched my clit as he continued to fuck me
with jerky, shallow thrusts.
That was all it took. My clit was like an overfilled balloon, bursting at the tiniest provocation. I gripped the bedspread until my knuckles turned white, my cunt spasming wildly around William’s cock as wave after wave of excruciating pleasure slammed into my body. I almost passed out with the sensation, it was so intense. I shook my head dazedly, determined to stay coherent enough to enjoy the thing I’d been craving for so long.
I was vaguely aware of William’s grunted expletives and the twitches of his shaft as he emptied his own release inside me. But to be honest, I didn’t really care. He wasn’t my boyfriend. He was barely even a lover. He was just a fuck. I chastised myself. I should be nicer to him, I decided, because although he was just a fuck, he was a damn good one. And he was hopefully going to be a frequent one that would be willing to scratch my kinky itches until my season at the campsite was up.
Because the spanking had just been the beginning. I had many more bedroom fetishes I liked to indulge in, and, as William pulled out and dragged me onto the bed with him, his cock already reawakening, I knew he was the perfect candidate to play my kinky games.
For the next six months, anyway.
DIRECTOR LADY
Anika Ray
He said he was twenty-one, but he was probably younger. With a body like a coil of rope, lean and tanned and throbbing. I told him to undress in the middle of the floor, and he looked at me with the terrible sadness of someone who’d been betrayed.
I swallowed and in a flash of heat fell down, melted, a mess of legs and the boy at the copier and the boy at the desk and the boy between my legs at the desk—just dreams. The dreams all came up, and I pushed through them.
“Take your clothes off,” I said, like it was suddenly important to me personally. Outside the girl who handled the casting was checking names against a list, but I was thinking only about this one man. Here. Now.
The other girl didn’t see it, his dropping green eyes and long brown brow. She was leaning against the exposed brick wall entirely nude with one long leg crossed over the other. Her pussy was shaved; her hair was shiny and ironed. She was picking at her nails and didn’t even look up as we did the screen test.
“We’re picking a new star for you, Cherry,” I said. She was a redhead. The last guy who’d come in, she’d devoured him with her eyes and sent him home.
“He fucks like a machine,” she’d yawned, bored, looking at us over her gleaming wet ass. “A dumb one.”
So we’d gotten her a fresh machine. He came out of his clothes like it was a dance, missing a button and kicking at his woolen pants. He had thick lines of muscle in his hips, and I bit down on my lips.
Cherry kept on picking at her nails. Dead skin hit the floor.
“Start by licking her pussy,” I said. Dragging, dropping, he went toward her. A boy in a man’s body; knelt down, apologetic.
“Ma’am…” and Cherry, bitch that she was, just canted one knee a little away from the other. Making him work for it.
Soft little velvet cat’s tongue. I watched it slide between Cherry’s neatly trimmed artificial-looking lips, like the lips of a suction machine, not human at all. Back and forth. Cherry put one hand on the wall, another on his head like giving a benediction. Her eyes stared straight ahead as her little hips rode his head. He jerked back and forth, trying to make her moan. She closed her eyes in infinite patience.
“Yeah, that’s right,” she said, on an exhaled breath.
“Put your fingers inside her,” I said, feeling those little fingers on me, his hands poking at the insides of my thighs, that little flickering tongue stabbing. One long, narrow finger went into Cherry, between the shaved pussy lips, deep into the inside part that no one ever saw, the only part of Cherry that no one ever saw.
She rocked back and forth on her heels. He twisted his wrist, corkscrew; Cherry bent her knees until she was almost sitting on his shoulders, and he put his free hand on her stomach. Feel it here, baby, right here…that hand pushing down as the other came up from within.
Camera whirring. It was hot, we were all sweating under the lights as Cherry lay down, spread her legs for the camera. The boy with his questioning green eyes lay down beside her as if he didn’t know what to do, and suddenly it became vitally important that he know the next move.
The candles were too long in their silver holders. His hands were inside her from behind, up to the palm, he was twisting and grinding his fingers against her, inside her, trying to work her.
She probably didn’t feel a thing.
“Try something bigger,” I said, and Cherry stared, hard, like she’d fallen down. And he put out his hand and found the silver candlestick, wrapped with nubs of waxy melt, put it in his soft pillow of a mouth.
“That?” asked Cherry on her side in front of him, looking over her shoulder. “I…” But it was too late, the wet gleaming stick came up between her legs and one hand came around her flat drum stomach, reached down, parted her wet, brown pussy lips even as the other brought the stick up, wet it in her juices, eased it in.
“Go in deep,” I said, tense, on the edge.
“Ugh,” Cherry said, but the boy’s hands held her, becoming more sure, more certain, and inch by inch he worked that big round silver stick into Cherry’s much-used twat, until her hips were moving back and forth like a flag in a wind.
“Ask her how it feels,” I shouted at him, voice rising at the end like it was a question.
“How does that feel?” asked the boy. His voice was like sandpaper on wood, roughing up the edges. The stick came in and out like a song and Cherry tapped the rhythm, eyes closed, hand on the wooden floor. Camera came in close.
“Oh, this is good, this is good,” whispered the grip, lost.
“Feels good,” said Cherry, rolling, gasping, fucking the candlestick with her matron’s unused hips, pussy lips eating the silver and spitting it out, polished, pearled.
“Keep going,” I said, as Cherry whispered, cried, closed her eyes tight and grabbed on to the rug. She rolled forward and from behind the boy’s cock dove—tight, thick, ready. A young man’s cock. God, Cherry was going to get that cock in a minute, the boy was looking at her gasping pussy with fascination. I knew what it must feel like, from the inside; that soft, tight ring of vaginal muscle and the long smooth inward slide.
After the first stroke it was easy.
“Come on, come on, fuck her,” I whispered, tight, straining against my chair. “Come on, she’s ready, just…”
And the boy looked up. Lightning shivered in his eyes.
“Do it to her,” I moaned, leaning all the way forward. I don’t know how it happened, the rug was against my back, and suddenly I was next to them.
“Put your cock here,” I said, pointing at Cherry’s rhythmic, stroking pussy. But I fell, and the boy loomed over me. “Your cock,” I tried to tell him. I could see it, rising, fast, and then his bright eyes pierced me; Cherry was gasping and covered with sweat beside me.
“I came,” she said with wonder, the candlestick between her thighs.
“But,” I gasped, dissatisfied, “he didn’t do it right.”
“How?” asked Cherry, looking at me. “How?”
“He didn’t put his cock into you, Cherry, the viewers won’t like it…” The smell and shadow fell over me first, and then I felt the bone against my bones.
“Director lady,” he said, and I grasped his elbows to say, Hold on, we can still make it work, but my legs came apart and with one hand he raised my skirt; the other spread me open like he’d done with Cherry.
The first is always the hardest. The ring of muscle, the pop, the head coming home. His eyes went blank above me, lost in pleasure.
“Oh, you poor baby,” I said, soft, low, as my hips gave him the pleasure he needed, and the cameras came in.
Cherry said it to him: “Slow, slow, she likes it slow,” and I felt the drag and lisp of a cock grating against bottom. I grasped his elbows and opened my legs and h
e pushed in deeper, deeper.
“Don’t move,” said Cherry, but the boy wouldn’t listen, he couldn’t keep still.
“Ugh,” he groaned, slamming his hips into me twice, three times, each time nailing a note up inside me, letting the tension knot and build; I saw his lost green gaze, then his eyes closed, he was lost in me.
I took him into me, I rocked against him; Cherry pushed eagerly against us both.
Time opened, suspended, his cock caught against my inside; I sealed him into my hips, pumped up, unraveled.
Hard, horsey breathing. Mine and Cherry’s.
The boy’s soft, limp dick slid out of me. He looked down, fearful, cautious.
“Ma’am,” he said, suddenly afraid, apologetic. I caressed the warm muscles of his hard ass, the dents in his back. “I…”
Rough voice.
I lay on the rug savoring it, as the cameras cooled down.
BEING HIS BITCH
Janine Ashbless
The theme for the Club Night this month was “The Pet Show.” There was no way that Dev and I were going to miss this one, and we put a lot of effort into my costume—or rather, lack of costume, since it was nearly all body paint. I picked the color scheme based on a boxer dog that lives down our street: cream belly and chest, but a beautiful dark brindle all over the back and legs and face. I had my hair cut short and elfin and made a pair of dog ears in velvety faux fur that sat atop my head, half-pricked and endearingly floppy. Dev did the paintwork himself, using a skin-friendly, grease-free ink; he’s in graphic design, and he loves to get his art kit out when he has an excuse to do something properly creative.
The airbrushing took a couple of hours, there were so many layers. “It ought to last out the night, unless you rub it off,” he said. But I wasn’t making any promises.
To finish off my costume, we had a dog collar—a broad greyhound one that made me hold my head up, with a dog tag dangling from it—and a chain leash with a leather loop. Engraved on the disc was the legend “Naughty Little Bitch.” We could’ve got that done discreetly ourselves, using one of those machines you find in pet stores, but Dev made me go into the engraver’s shop and order it in person from the man behind the counter. The guy gave me one hell of a look but didn’t ask any questions, and I emerged from the shop with my panties so wet and my legs so wobbly that I could hardly walk straight.