Join me on January 20, 2017 at Blackthorne’s Dungeon to find out more at 6:00 p.m. CST.
Moronic child. Not that 21 was truly a child but the boy acted as one.
He huffed and swung himself back out of the kitchen area to head back into the lounge, hearing footsteps following. Thankfully, the boy was beginning to understand his new place in society, which was well above where it once was. “There is a brown three piece in my closet. Put it on, and shine your shoes. They are most distressed. Berlin will not see me falter because of your incapacity. You are my second. Behave as such.” It was bad enough that the inbreeds might believe him lowered in status because of Alexander. He would not have himself tarnished yet more by upstarts who did not know the correct way to dress. That reminded him to send the boy to Packshiltz while they were there if they had any time. At the very least, the boy would be fully tailored before either of them were killed. “And call Herman Packshiltz for the measuring of your scrawny ass.”
The door closed, plunging her into a darkness lit only by the ephemeral glow of the displays in the distance. Even through her clothes she felt the heat of his body. The hard bulge in his pants pressed against her, demanding attention. His hands gripped her ass and pulled tighter. She snaked her arms around his body. “I don’t know if I can…” She turned her lips upward, hoping her words didn’t disappoint him.
“My sweet Rebecca,” he whispered in reply. “You’ve already begun.”
She tasted his lips. A soft, moist press. His warm tongue touching her own. His hands slipped farther, cupping between her thighs and ass. As he lifted, she relinquished the floor and wrapped her legs around his waist. She panted, touching his head with the backs of her hands as his lips found her neck.
Gentle. The soft heat of his tongue pressed her jaw line, teased her senses for less than a second before slipping another inch, covering every inch of her neck, kiss by succulent kiss. Her back pressed against the closed door and he leaned into her. The bulge beneath his pants teased her clit through her moist panties. She moaned, ready to give him anything he asked as long as he slid his cock into her.
With a gentle nip against her shoulder, he lowered her legs until her feet rested on solid ground. She stood on shaking legs, unable to see anything in the dim light. She could only feel. (more…)
In a moment of uncharacteristic obedience, I widen my mouth a fraction and release the soft flesh of the fruit. I watch as it falls the short distance to the floor underneath me, along with a humiliating quantity of my drool. Relief washes over my jaw as it can now finally relax, although I wonder what Anders will have in mind for me next.
“Good,” he says from over me. “Now tell me, do you know why you are to be spanked?”
I flinch as he vocalises my predicament, as though hearing it out loud somehow reaffirms the sheer ignominy of it.
“I…” I pause, trying to make myself say the words. “I am to be spanked because I spilled your drinks, my Lofðungr,” I say eventually.
“True,” Anders replies, slapping the cheeks of my behind. The impact is not hard, but is just enough to wake the flesh around the area, summoning the blood there and sending the message to me: this is mine. “And why did you spill the drinks, Aurelie? What function were you serving?” (more…)
Her mouth enveloped the tip and she teased it with her tongue. He moaned again, and she moved her head down, taking him all the way to the back of her mouth. She pulled off his cock for a moment, “I forgot how good this tastes. It’s all over my mouth.” With a smile on her face, Judy dipped her head lower and licked his balls, eliciting a loud groan from her young lover.
“Oh, my god,” was all he could manage to say.
Her tongue continued up his shaft to the sensitive spot where it met the head. She collected some saliva and used it to flick her tongue back and forth on this spot with no friction. His hands went to her head, and she turned up the speed.
As she fellated him, she thought about the absurdness of the situation. Here she was at age forty-eight, giving him head like she was a horny teenager. She hadn’t had a cock in her mouth since her husband died.
Her tongue did most of the work, licking around the head and down his shaft and back to tease the pre-cum out of his slit. When she took him all the way in again, she realized that his length was too much for her. Almost two inches of cock remained exposed. She took her fingers and wrapped them around the base of his cock. She jerked, just a little bit, in time with the movements of her tongue. His hips bucked and his fingers twitched rhythmically in her hair. She could tell he was getting close, and she moaned on his cock to encourage him. (more…)
“Angel’s Lips, Snips, and Tips,” I said when I picked up the phone in my salon in Syracuse. It was past closing time, and I should have let it go to voicemail. There was silence at the other end. “Hello? Can I help you?”
“Joe? It’s me.”
Angel. Her voice hit me like a punch to the gut, knocking me into the rolling chair behind the desk. It took a minute to recover and find my voice. “Honey, why you calling me so late?”
She said nothing as she cried on the other end of the phone.
“Is everything okay? It’s kinda hard to talk right now.” I glanced over my shoulder. “Maria’s in the back room. She’d kill me if she found out I was talking to you.” (more…)
Jenny Negles yawned as she fumbled to get her keys out of her purse while balancing the bookbag slung over her other shoulder. It was heavy with her laptop, an ancient thing, and several textbooks. Her back ached from the strain, and she kept having to roll her shoulder to keep it from slipping off.
“Come on,” she whispered, her keys in hand but one of the jagged teeth had caught on something in her purse and refused to come out. “Not now, I want to get to bed.”
Before her stood the door to her dorm room. Jenny let her head slump forward, banging against the painted-white door, rattling it on its hinges. She tugged again on her key while an errant strand of her black hair spilled down her cheek. It was supposed to be pulled back with the rest of her locks into her ponytail, but after a day of classes and an evening studying in the library, several tresses had escaped her scrunchy’s imprisonment.
“Come on,” Jenny muttered, hating her hair escaping. Her hair should be neat. It needed to be combed.
The young coed, attending her second year of college at Washington State University in Pullman, just west of the Idaho border. She liked the school and mascot—Go Cougars!—but right now what she would really like was to pull her keys out before she lost her bookbag and broke her most prized possession—her laptop. (more…)
Becky could actually hear her own heart pounding. The air seemed to move as the woman spoke. Every hair on Becky’s body felt lifted and pulled at the same time, as if the visitor’s presence alone had become a palpable touch. Ethereal fingertips brushed across her neck before dancing down her spine in an indescribable bouquet of sensation. Warmth expanded in her chest, rushing toward her abdomen before leaping across each of her toes.
What’s happening to me?
Becky watched the woman levitate herself into the chair only a few inches from her own, the same perfect posture pressing her breasts outward and hinting at the nipples below. The overpoweringly seductive scent. The woman’s knees touched and turned inward, letting the fabric of her dress brush against Becky’s. She leaned her elbow on the table and rested her chin on the back of her hand, staring with what could only be described as rapt fascination.
“I’m Valentine,” the woman said.
Becky licked her lips, nerves frayed. She didn’t want to move her legs farther away but she wasn’t quite ready to move them closer either. “Like the day?” Her flush deepened. How could I say something so stupid? (more…)
One corner of his mouth curved upwards. “Yer book,” he said. “I wanted tae meet ye and was willing tae pay for the privilege.”
“Um. Thank you. I think.” She wondered if he had a sub who’d benefitted from the experiences and research that she shared online. She had let her followers know that a book was coming, had kept them updated on her progress. The manuscript was done, but only her publisher had seen it.
Micheil dipped his head at the Replay owner, who was ordering punishment for a slave girl. “St. Leger told me that ye command a hefty appearance fee. My offer was purely a guess. Since ye agreed tae the terms, I take it that the contract met yer expectations.”
“Yes,” she said simply, following his gaze when it failed to return. The slave was stripped and bound to a column. Tiberius Piers snapped his fingers and a tray of floggers appeared. He picked one of softest leather and introduced her to it, stroking her sides, rubbing her back, tracing her cheek, then stepping back and laying on the first set of stripes.
Rowena clamped her thighs together, cursing her traitorous body, feeling the creamy moisture between her legs. (more…)