Of Flesh and Skin - A Darker Erotic Collection

by R. T. Riley

  Nyssa kissed James deeply, relishing the taste of all three of them together. Their lips slid across each other, their faces as wet as her pussy, and she breathed in the salty smell of sex that coated his skin. Desperate for more of the heavenly taste she lifted herself from his slick cock, taking him deep into her eager mouth. James groaned as her tongue circled around his tip, groaning louder still as it ran down his shaft. Wrapping his hands around the bed sheets he cried out as the licking turned to sucking, drawing him past the point of no return. He exploded into her throat, bucking as she swallowed, her fingers kneading his balls.

  “Enough!” he cried, pushing at her forehead, but she refused to allow him to withdraw from her mouth. Instead she plunged him deeper, holding on as he fought. He grabbed her throat once more and squeezed. The sensation nearly sent her into another orgasm. Nails dug into her neck and she felt the sharp stabbing as her skin give way to them, the warm itch of blood trickling down her chest, but she still refused to relinquish her hold on his cock. Nyssa was close to passing out, but she needed more.

  She had been deprived for far too long and was not about to give up this ecstasy until she was well and truly satisfied. James was the one; he could do that.

  He just had to.

  The End

  The Deal

  Marcus slipped in behind the group of lads at the bar. He thrummed with impatience as he waited for them to hurry up and finish paying. He’d spotted her already, just a few moments prior. Long, luscious legs, slim build, natural looking, perky tits. He would’ve preferred her to be blonde, but her big green eyes and pouting lips, more than made up for that. They just screamed ‘fuck me’.

  One of the guys slammed a bottle on the counter and said something indecipherable to any sober person. Multiple backslaps later and the group were finally on their way to the door, leaving the bar open for him. He took up a strategic position on a stool and ordered a bourbon and ice, tipping the barman a twenty.

  She was sitting in the corner booth with a group of friends, her red hair bounced and flowed as she threw her head back and laughed. Marcus smiled, and offered her a nod and a smile. He made sure it was a quick friendly smile, not overdone. She placed a hand over her mouth and the smile was returned.

  Just a matter of time, he told himself, settling into the seat.

  ***

  “So I said to him, ‘Just because I fucked you a couple of times doesn’t make me your goddamn wife’. He almost spat his lobster across the table. I swear he would have if it wasn’t for the frigging price.”

  The other girls at the table burst out giggling and drained the last of the Margarita jug into the glasses. Rachel tucked her long red locks behind her ear and grabbed the jug.

  “Same again girls?” She wiggled out of the booth. She didn’t wait for the comments. It wasn’t her round, but if the others caught sight of what was standing at the bar she’d stand no chance at all.

  He looked great. An expensive suit, well groomed, cute without being too boyish, and that smile! That smile scratched that itch at the base of her stomach. She made her way to the space next to him at the bar. She caught him looking out of the corner of her eye and motioned seductively to the barman for another round of drinks.

  There it was again, perfect teeth encased in perfectly symmetrical lips. Her throat dried up at the thought of those teeth running across her neck, teasing, biting, exploring…

  “Your name would be a good start to a conversation,” he said, bringing her back to reality. Heat radiated from her face. How long had she been staring at him?

  “Um, sorry,” she muttered as she dropped her gaze to the varnished wood counter for a moment. “I’m Rachel.”

  “Marcus,” came the reply.

  She watched as he fished a card out of his pocket and slid it across the bar. The word Bloomingdales sat neatly across the top, with Head of Acquisitions placed below in a subtler font.

  “Marcus Nikolic?”

  “That’s me.” His finger stroked the rim of the glass suggestively. “I’ve had a long day dealing with pompous designers, and the thought of going home to an empty apartment is simply depressing. I just wanted to be around people tonight, but I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone as beautiful as you.”

  Rachel’s eyes widened, as his finger left the glass and trailed across the back of her hand. She shivered at the touch as electricity coursed through her veins. “So, you’re single?”

  Marcus laughed. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

  “It’s just that---well---look at you. You could have any woman you wanted,” she covered her mouth with her hand before the words and so damned fuckable escaped into the space between them.

  He leant forward, his breath caressing her earlobe, his voice smooth and soft. “Does that mean I can have you? My car is outside and I promise to be a perfect gentleman. Say you’ll join me for dinner.”

  The words sang through her mind, a sensual symphony, rising and falling in time with her heartbeat. “Dinner sounds wonderful,” she said, motioning to the booth in the corner. “I’ll just let my friends know what’s going on.”

  “They won’t mind me whisking you away like this?”

  “Oh, they’ll understand,” she smiled and laid a hand on his arm. “I think they’ll be happy about it.”

  The air was cool against her skin as Marcus led her to the parking spot. A silver Lexus filled the space, its pristine paintwork shimmering under the stark glare of the streetlights. Excitement flooded Rachel’s body, forming goose bumps on her skin, as he reached forward to open the passenger door.

  “You’re cold,” he said, removing his jacket and placing it over her shoulders.

  “I’m fine, honestly. I’m just---”

  He moved closer, pressing against her and she inhaled sharply as her body responded to his touch. Cupping her chin, he raised her face to his, lips on lips, tongue against tongue, soul to soul. The perfect kiss from the perfect man, and their date hadn’t even started yet. She closed her eyes, wanting more, waiting for his lips to find hers again.

  Something soft pressed against her face, covering her mouth and nose. She breathed instinctively, taking in the sweet smell. Her eyes opened to a mask of white before succumbing to darkness.

  ***

  With one arm cradling her back and another guiding her head, Marcus slid Rachel into the passenger seat. A young couple, arms wrapped tightly around each other caught his eye as they passed. He shook his head and laughed, nodding at the sedated figure in the car. “Can’t hold her drink,” he said, picking up a stiletto from the sidewalk. A smile signalled their acceptance of the situation and he leant across, sliding the seatbelt into the catch. He pushed the door closed and headed around to the driver’s side.

  The couple were nothing more than a speck in the rear-view mirror, the sidewalk empty, as Marcus slid a hand between her legs, parting them. He had to know if she was a genuine redhead, if she groomed herself, if she was usable. The soft, sleek fabric guarding his prize gave way under his probing fingers. He smiled as it revealed a neatly trimmed patch of red pubic hair. Even in her slumber she was wet, and he slid a finger inside her, marvelling at her tightness. She was the most perfect one yet.

  Starting the engine, he licked her juice from his finger, inhaling her warm smell, and pulled out into the traffic.

  ***

  Rachel stirred, turning slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position. Her shoulder blade met with the hard floor and her eyes fluttered open. Where the fuck was she? Iron bars filled her vision. Front, back, sides, ceiling, everywhere except for the concrete beneath her. Her heart raced as tears flooded her vision. With shaking hands she tested the bars. They were solid, padlocked in place on one side. With no room to stand, she scuttled back, wrapping her arms around her naked body, and screamed. The sound echoed off the walls of the room, bouncing back and forth, mocking her. Closing her eyes, she curled up into a ball; arms wrapped around her head, the salty smell of fear her only co
mpanion.

  Light filtered through the chink in her arms and she squeezed her eyes shut, alert to the sound of scraping shoes. Peering through her fingers, she saw a denim-covered pair of legs approach the cell. They bent at the knees beside a small gap in the bars, the scrape of metal on concrete screeching in her head. “Eat,” a voice said.

  Was it his?

  She fought through the swirling mess of memories, trying to match the sound. “You’ll need your strength for what I have in mind.”

  Yes, the voice was his. Marcus, if that was his name. Rachel scrambled towards him, her fingers wrapping around the bars, knuckles turning white with the force of her grip.

  “Please. Why are you doing this? Please let me go.”

  No answer came. He turned away as if she’d never spoken and kicked another plate through a second cage. Glancing back in her direction, his face held a contorted grin. She covered her face once more, sobbing as the door slammed shut.

  The metal plate had a paper cup in the middle filled with what looked like water. Around the cup were chunks of meat and a slab of bread. She pushed it to one side, wiped her face in her arm and looked around the room. It was large and bare. The door was to her left in the corner, heavy, industrial looking, and opposite it were three small, dirty, windows high up in the wall.

  The light that filtered through them was a dull yellow colour, maybe sunlight, maybe streetlight, either way there wasn’t enough to tell the time of day. A pile of old pipes sat in the corner and cigarette butts littered the floor. A scraping sound caught her attention and she turned to see movement in the other cage.

  “Hello?” Rachel pushed her arm through the bars towards the sound. “Where am I?”

  “No, no, no. No talking.” The shape moved, obscured by bars, pale and dirty under the harsh strip lights.

  “Please.” Tears threatened again. “Who are you?” Silence filled the space between them, breathless and terrified.

  “It doesn’t matter who I am, not anymore.” A face appeared, its features hardly distinguishable behind the bruises. “Just do what he wants, no matter what it is.”

  As he turned she saw blood streaks across his back and legs. Terror built in her throat and she swallowed hard, trying to hold it back. “What do you mean? Please just tell me what the fuck’s going on.”

  “It’s all a game to him. All a great big fuck-off twisted game.”

  The lump in her throat grew until she could no longer speak, her stomach contracting violently. Last night’s alcohol purged itself from her body in a sudden forceful action, spraying across the floor of the cell, filling the air with a harsh acidic scent that burned her nostrils.

  ***

  Marcus sat in the plush leather chair, leaning forward, eyes fixated on the computer monitor. She was almost ready. He grabbed a steaming cup of coffee from the table and took a sip before pressing a button on the intercom.

  “Is everything prepared?”

  “Yes, sir. They’re all laid out as you asked. Are you sure she’ll co-operate?”

  “Are you doubting me?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Good.”

  Draining the last of the hot liquid, he took one last look at the screen before exiting the room.

  Rachel was huddled in the corner of the cell. He stood silent for a moment, and then banged his hand against the bars. “Come here,” he said, his voice devoid of any emotion. She didn’t move. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. You don’t want me to hurt you, do you?”

  He could see the fear in her eyes as she shuffled forward. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Put your hands out.” Marcus produced a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, swinging them back and forth. When she didn’t respond he slammed metal against metal. “That’s better.”

  He placed the cuffs around her wrists, being careful not to tighten them too much. Once she was secured, he opened the cell door and pulled her out by the arms. She stumbled forward, her legs numbed by the cold floor, and he caught her around the waist, guiding her through the door and into a large bathroom.

  Securing the cuffs to a chain above the shower, he raised her arms and turned the spray on. Rachel let out a whimper and he ran a hand gently down her cheek. “I’m just going to clean you up,” he said, grabbing a bottle of shampoo and squirting it into his hand. Her long hair became a sea of bubbles as he massaged the liquid into her scalp, the smell of vomit giving way to exotic orchids.

  His fingers followed the soap trail down her back and along the crease of her bum. She shied away from his touch, shaking as she cried. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her back, feeling her weight against his growing erection. The curve of her hips fitted the palm of his hand perfectly and he wished he could peel off his wet clothes and fuck her, but for now it would have to wait.

  The bar of soap slipped against her skin as he ran it over her firm stomach. Placing it back in the dish, he reached forward, taking her breasts in his hands. They filled his palms. His thumbs teased her nipples, circling over them lightly, before being joined by forefingers, pulling and squeezing. Even in her frightened state, her body rebelled against her revulsion, and her nipples reacted to his touch, growing hard.

  “Let’s see if the rest of you is as forthcoming, shall we?” he said, sliding a hand down her body, coming to rest on her tightly trimmed pubic hair. She started shaking her head again, her sobs louder and harsher. “As long as you co-operate, I’ll be gentle. You can be out of here in a day if you’re good but we’ll talk about that soon. Now, spread your legs.”

  She did as ordered, her body still trembling, and he moved his hand into the warm space between her thighs. On a shelf to his right was one of the items he’d requested and he wrapped his fingers around its thick shaft. His thumb pushed against the button and his grasp tightened as strong vibrations pulsed through his hand. Reaching around her warm, wet body once more, Marcus parted her outer lips with finger and thumb, and placed the vibrator against her clitoris. She tried to move away but he pushed her against the cold tiles, his body pinning her in place.

  A smile spread across his face as he felt her muscles tightening and he moved the device back and forth, increasing the pressure. Her breathing increased, intermingled with fresh tears, and he placed a hand on her abdomen, waiting for her to release. She came suddenly, her entire body in spasm, her juices flowing with the water. Even under the stress of capture her body was still able to respond to stimulation and Marcus hugged her, hiding his pleasure in her hair.

  “Good girl,” he whispered into her ear. “Now let’s get you dry so we can talk.”

  ***

  The room was warm, cosy even, with plush red curtains and matching chairs. They sat opposite one another at the dark, oval table, and she watched intently as he sorted through a pile of papers. The tears had stopped. A satin robe covering her naked body gave her some sense of control back and she wrapped it tightly around her chest. Her face still burned with embarrassment at her body’s response to the violation earlier at her abductor’s hands.

  A loud rapping sound cut through the silence and Rachel jumped. Marcus called for them to enter and the door swung open. A young lady dressed in a lacy baby-doll dress tottered into the room, her hands holding a silver tray. She placed it in the centre of the table and picked up an ornate teapot, pouring the boiling liquid into dainty china cups.

  Marcus placed the papers to one side and motioned to her. “Would you like some tea?” he asked.