The Writer - One from the Archives (Sort Of)
I can’t pretend that this is one from the archives really as I originally posted this in the beginning of October, but I was pleased with this one and so have decided to post it again!
—-
The Writer
The train was busy as usual, the crush of bodies fighting for space, looking to claim their own little oasis of calm among the throng. You barely glance up from your book, exchanging brief pleasantries over the sound of your iPod, as the man who has claimed the space settles down.
You suppress a groan as his bulk squeezes you against the side of the train, biting your lip hard as he then proceeds to remove a laptop and further invade your space. Obviously sensing your tension, he looks sideways with an apologetic smile and for a second his charming face almost overcomes your frustration.
You dive once more into the pages of your book, looking to escape the crush of reality and the arms digging in to your side. Quickly bored with the predictable storyline, you glance across at screen next to you, watching the words dance across the white expanse.
You suddenly catch your breath as the words penetrate your brain and sink in; ’sliding inside her wet cunt’ , ‘arms held taut as he plunges his cock deep inside’, ‘screams with rage as she feels herself stretched to her limits’ ‘does this turn you on?’
You stop at the last sentence, you realise that his fingers have stopped dancing across the keys, the cursor blinks at you, flashing accusingly, demanding a response. You glance away quickly, staring at the green blur of trees rushing by.
You feel your cheeks flush and much to your surprise, you feel a stirring in your belly, a hot sting of desire between your thighs. Suddenly his body pressed against yours in the crush of the cramped train takes on new meaning, his closeness not something you can block out.
Your mind spins, what do you do, carry on as if you hadn’t seen the words and disappear once more behind a wall of dull words. A wild impulse grabs you, the endless monotony of your life pushes you forward and his smile flashes across your mind finally delivering you your answer, you know what you really want.
Slowly you turn back, you answer by placing your book down and once more face his screen.
‘Good girl. I’m pleased.’
Simple words but you feel your cheeks flush once again, worried that every other person on the train knows what has just passed between you both, that all eyes on the train are focused on you.
‘I am going to fuck you. Just with my words for now, they will invade your mind, like my fingers will eventually invade your cunt. But for now they will be enough.’
You feel your heart race, the words excite you in a way the books you read never have.
‘I will make you cum, now, on this train, while you sit here surrounded by all these people and the only one who knows will be me.’
Command and Control
Another one from the Archives originally posted August 2nd 2011.
I shall leave it to your imagination as to where the inspiration for this piece came from but it always makes me smile when I think about it.
——-
Command and Control
The man at the next table turns to once again look at you as you yelp. He has been watching all through lunch as the noises and moans have become louder and louder.
The waiters have been very attentive, passing by your table, checking everything is in order, that you are happy. It is as if they can sense how turned on you are right now, the animal instinct men possess tracking you down your need, hunting for the easy kill.
Your legs are shaking as the final wave of another orgasm passes over you. Knuckles white as you hold on to the tabletop trying to retain some sense of calm, holding on to your last shred of dignity. You lick the perspiration from your lips, the skin exposed through the open necked shirt glows with its own sheen.
Breathing deeply, you try and control your errant body, command it to relax and recover before the next wave hits you.
Your phone quietly buzzes on the table, you quickly flick it on and read the message and you gasp under your breath, ‘God no, please stop.’ The words on the tiny screen have just shattered any calm you had managed to claw back. Unable to avoid it, you are forced to read and reply otherwise the punishment will be ten times worse.
You tap the keys quickly as the first vibration rumble within you, setting up a chain reaction of sympathetic tremors throughout your body. Your fingers stumble over the keys, desperate to answer, unable to concentrate, a panicked rush to answer and stem the flow.
As you hit send another burst of nightmare ecstasy hits you, forcing another groan from between your clenched lips, both hands grasping the tabletop, leaning over in an attempt to reign in your body.
You watch in slow motion as a drop of sweat peels away from your lips and crashes with glacial slowness in to your soup, sending waves through the liquid mirroring the undulations careering through your cunt.
Waving away the waiter asking if all is well with madam, you run back through the moment again that led to this, that second of back chat, the loss of poise and control. You had bought the toy for him to use in the bedroom but you never thought he would want to take it so far. But you knew, the second the words left your mouth your fate was sealed.
His retort, the tone heavy with menace and dry amusement created a flood of fear and excitement between your legs, your pussy drenched at the thought of what was to come.
‘Let me?’ the snarl on his lips, spitting out the words all that was needed to force the physical reaction in you. ‘Let me? Oh babydoll, you really have so much to learn about what we have don’t you. And there is no time like now to learn.’
You moaned loudly then as he bent you over his desk and pushed the smooth white eggs between your dripping lips, his fingers like red hot pokers to your inflamed flesh, causing you to grind against him until the sharp crack of his other hand forced you to stillness.
The sound of the door slamming was still ringing in your ears, the only real memory of how you got from his hotel room to the restaurant table he had booked for you. This was a quiet, refined, select place, full of hushed conversations, powerful deals and elegant laughter.
Heart sinking as the maitre d’ walked you passed hushed tables, knowing there was going to be nowhere to hide. Your blood drains from your face as you recognise the faces of clients and business contacts among the dinners.
Worse still, as he pulled the chair back for you, another wave of vibrations shook your core, forcing you to wobble and grab his arm for support. His kind concern, quickly dismissed with a crooked smile.
The last hour had been relentless, endless messages, detailed descriptions of what was awaiting you once this trial was over, how he was going to use you, enslave your cunt, dominate your arse and possess your mouth.
His command to you, to read every message and reply instantly. For every moment of delay another wave of pleasure would be signalled through to the devious device placed deep inside you.
The urgent buzz of your phone breaks in to your thoughts, trembling hands scramble to take hold, his words flood over you again and once again you react, your cunt contracting and pulsing, flashes of heat storm across your face, breasts heave and your heart hammers against your chest.
And then the impending tsunami of pleasure and pain crashes over you, a low guttural growl emerging unbidden from deep inside. It is at that point you know you are lost, you drop the phone no longer able to withstand the onslaught.
Unable to resist, you let go and instead embrace the wave of pleasure as it hits you, squeezing your thighs together to grab your way towards release. Your core reverberates over and over, all pretence lost, head down, growling, moaning, terrified and wanton.
Slipping a hand beneath the table, you push yourself beyond the tipping point, crumbling under the pressure, screaming out, collapsing on to the table - all eyes on you, suddenly aware of the presence next to you.
Even in your post orgasmic haze, you prepare for the reprimand, steel yourself for the final humiliation of being ejected, thrown out in front of the glaring audience. What you don’t expect are strong arms wrapping around you, his scent enveloping you, his words of comfort in your ear
‘Time to go baby, time to go’, as a handful of cash is thrown to the table as you are swept up and away.
You curl in to his chest, eyes tight hiding from accusing eyes, deaf to the raised questioning voices as you retreat, oblivious to the hushed, urgent conversations of heated couples, ignited to their own fury by your display.
Sliding in to the back of the waiting cab, he places you gently on his lap, head cradled beneath strong hands. His words and hands stroking, calming you. The fever between your thighs abating, still slick from your lesson, you find solace in his embrace.
‘Good girl’
It is all you need to hear for now, you both know your lesson has been learnt. Eyes shut tight, rocked by the motion of the cab as it moves through traffic, you take a moment to remember the thrill, the ecstasy of those final moments.
‘Yes Sir’
And you realise you were never more alive, never more true to who you really are than at that moment, lost to everything, no pretence, no qualms, no self control, only his command.
Words by The Dirty Romantic (aka You Make Me Need You)
http://youmakemeneedyou.tumblr.com
Source: youmakemeneedyou
Scent
Another one from the archives - originally posted on 10th Feb 2011.
This one came about after stopping to look around me one day on the train following another delay and take the time to really notice my surroundings. To stop for a moment and really spend the time to take in the details of what was around me. And what I actually noticed were all the subtle sexy hints that were there in my fellow passengers, on display if you cared to notice.
The small details, the tiny little items that spin past us during the daily grind that would never be noticed by anyone else, but seem to scream out if you care to look. In fact if you stop and really look, to take in every finesse of the way a woman has dressed, holds herself or even absentmindedly touches her hair, these can flood your senses and the mind with wicked possibilities.
Of course that just might be the dark deviant corners of my mind taking over for a time.
Enjoy!
————
Scent
Travelling each day into the City, the monotony of the same routine, same time each day, same carriage, same faces. No one really talks, most working through papers, books or plugged in to iPhones or laptops.
All apart from her.
I don’t know why, but there was something different. Yes she was attractive, well groomed and dressed well, I always noticed her legs as she stepped on to the train, wrapped in sheer black stockings, which she always finished off with a perfect pair of expensive high heels.
I think it was her face that really captured my attention though, a strong face,framed by beautiful long dark hair, out of which looked the most amazing eyes. We had caught each others gaze a thousand times before, over a myriad of journeys but each time a shiver would always rocket through me.
Those eyes would pierce through me but she would always move on quickly, taking a seat elsewhere in the carriage. We may occasionally catch each others glance, but no more than a briefest of contact.
Today however was different, as we board the busy train, another delay has meant many more people than normal leaving only two seats side by side. I stand aside and offer her a seat, for which I get a short smile of thanks but for the first time she holds my gaze. As she glances away again to take her seat, the smallest of smiles passes her lips.
We sit together, the train seats cramped so we are forced to sit close but do what we can to not touch, despite the proximity.
I can’t help but look down at her legs, peeking from under the tight black pencil skirt, perfection in those black stockings while the heel of her shoe forces her ankle into a perfect shape.
I am so aware of her next to me, her scent washes over me and I bite my lip to diminish the effect she is having on me. Ever so slowly her legs relax and comes to rest against mine. I don’t move away but hold very still - savouring this unexpected physical contact. I feel a little sad that I crave such a thing, but her legs look fantastic and the weight of her leg against mine is pleasing.
She casually rests a hand against her thigh and then drops it ever so slightly, almost absentmindedly coming to rest against my leg. I tense a little bit unsure of whether this is intentional or not. A moment later she answers my question by sliding her little finger, hidden below her hand, along the seam of my trousers.
I stiffen almost immediately, and I can feel her tense. I slowly turn to face her, as if looking out of the window. She faces forward, holding still and then she turns her head and her eyes catch mine.
As they do, her hand moves more firmly actually brushing along my thigh as she shifts position, her fingers brushing my crotch. The smile that comes to her face, tells me she knows I am hard. I look at her questioningly, nothing is said and everything is said. I shift position and let my hand brush her leg, the rough feel of her stockings, electric, sending a further pulse of need through me.
She now places more of her weight against me, leaning in further, her breast resting against me.
We sit like that, while the train makes it’s way to its destination, each furtive touch between us a little bolder than the last. I glance around the other passengers, but no one lifts their head above their own personal daily grind. The presence of so many others, heightens each touch.
As the train finally pulls into its destination, our hands find each other and I can finally feel her heat. She is shaking and her fingers dig deep into my hand. .
We let the last of the crowd fight their way off the train ignoring us, and I reach up touching that face I’ve long admired and lean forward kissing her deeply.
She responds immediately pushing her tongue into my mouth, shifting her body further into mine.
We break away as new passengers start to board the train, and I stand pulling her gently to her feet and lead her from the train.
Our hands flitting across each other. I already know where I’m taking her. A small courtyard is next to the station, deserted this time of morning. As we enter our hands are more urgent now, she tugs at my belt as I push her into an alcove.
The risk we might be seen from the street if someone took the time to look into the courtyard matters little as I lift her skirt to her waist. The urgency is with us both now, driven by a thousand glances, an unspoken passion, never acted upon.
She has my cock in her hand roughly, urgently pulling me to her. Her knickers tear as I pull them aside and I slam her against the cold stone wall, my cock sliding easily into her dripping wet cunt. I pull one leg up around me and as she wraps the other around me, I take her weight against me, burying my cock to the hilt.
We buck against each other, tasting each other deeply, her hands in my hair pulling me into her, holding me there.
As my thrusts slam her against the wall she gasps and I feel her pussy tighten, and begin to embrace my cock, shudders running through me, my legs shaking with the strain. Finally spent we stay like that, my cock still inside, teased by ongoing spasms.
As I look at her I know neither of us will be going to work today…
Words by The Dirty Romantic (aka You Make Me Need You)
A Moment
A precise moment in time, held in that second when pain and pleasure mingle;
The chain cold between your lips, the clamps harsh against your skin;
Delicious;
The tilt of your head sending sparks through your body;
Small gasps of delight escaping between tight clamped teeth;
‘Again’ his command rolls over you;
And another burst of pain ripples outwards from those hard points, bouncing through your body and pooling deep inside your cunt;
‘Again’
The gasp stronger, the sensation of the moment harsher, your need for it deeper;
‘Again’
Fuck, yes, no, damn;
The pain ricochets from mind to body, nerves on edge, pussy wet and heavy;
Unbidden you tug again and again, the bit between your teeth, the whip crack of the pain forcing you on.
‘Enough’
No, yes, fuck, damn.
His control, his pace, your body panting, needing, heart pounding in your ears, thighs slick, lips heavy.
‘Wait’
Panting, wanting, desperation sliding inside, the need for more, more pain, more moments, the suspense terrorising you;
‘Mine’
The chain drops from your mouth and in to his control, harsh tugs alight you again, a gasped shout rebounds off the walls as his hand finds you wet, slick, ready;
His pace, his mastery, moving you forward, warping your mind, teasing your body, tweaks, deep dives, forcing shouts of desire from between your lips;
Building to the crescendo, played as if you were a Stradivarius, each motion of his hands bringing exquisite music to the air, a finely tuned instrument in his hands, pushed beyond limits, forced to pause until the conductor’s signal;
‘Now’
Finally, release. The shout, the shuddering escape, as the chain once more becomes taut, reaches the rafters, echoes the energy that surges through you, his fingers deep inside, sustaining the note, pitch perfect;
And then you drop, as the chain becomes slack and you fall in to him, spent, empty, clean;
His role changed as he scoops you up and envelopes you, his chest your shield as the emotions roll back inside you, quiet sobs stumble against him, as the moment, that one moment of perfection slips away, to await the next time.
Words by: The Dirty Romantic (aka You Make Me Need You)
(via passius)
Source: unnaturallybound
Waiting - III
Wait.
The command he left you with as he tightened the silk to bite against your wrist.
Before he left he pulled you up, an alert ready posture he had demanded from you from day one.
And then he was gone. No word of a return, just an expectation. And the clock.
The loud click and whir a reminder of his demands, the mechanical devotion he required.
And so, once again you wait.
Your mind resonating between the slice of clockwork precision clunking assuredly behind you and the pressure building within your own body as it begins to resist against the restraints and pose you have been placed in.
Time passes.
Your mind wanders, memories of his hands on you, harsh fingers exploring you, harsh words deploring you. And the growing throb spreads throughout your body; each click of time another spasm of pain to be savoured, to be adored, a further reminder of how it will feel when he returns to release you, the rush of blood and pleasure that will surge over you as the bonds are slipped.
Despite the steady beat of the mechanical heart, time slips away, the pain overflows and eats away at what remains of you. The throbbing grows and gets heavy between your legs as your mind succumbs to your bodies needs, it’s lowest desires for this moment, this point of loss of self.
A tiny glimmer is all that remains, hidden beneath the focus to hold the position, to beat back the soft cutting bites of the silk ties. You barely register the out of place click, the door latch clicking out of time, the clack of footsteps out of kilter with the steady tick, tock.
And then his hands are on you, not yet releasing your bonds but taking your body while your mind watches from a distance. Watches you fucked and spread, open and taken, his cock plunging deep inside as you watch it’s glistening length slide in and out.
Bursts of pain and pleasure sweep you in and out of the moment, the sharp bite of your wrists, the full stretch of your cunt, pull your mind back and forth. Hands in your hair, pull you back to now, his cock deep inside you pins you to the moment. His words in your ear, ground you here, now, to him, always.
And finally as he brings you to the brink, he releases your bonds, the sudden burst of pain mingles with the pleasure he provides with his cock, his fingers, his mouth. A scream slips between your lips, as you bury yourself deep within him, as he wraps you up, to hold you against that final moment of return, as you crash back to now, body shuddering, shaking, clean, free.
Words by You Make Me Need You
(via kneelbegcrawl)
Source: mostflogged
Photo by Mark Velasquez
Shy
She had always caught my eye, in fact I returned to the bookstore time and again just to catch a glimpse, to feel her gaze on me.
On my first visit I knew, instinctively, that this quiet, shy woman had so much more to offer than she chose to present to the world outside.
And I saw countless times how she was ignored, passed over and dismissed by the brainless and the brash.
Her charm was obvious to me, the classic beauty, carefully selected clothes harking back to a more refined age and oh the delicate shimmer of her breast beneath the sheer material of her blouse.
It was subtle and required attention but I knew, could almost taste how ripe this woman was, ready to be drawn out, to be teased to reveal the glorious slut I knew was within her.
And here now in her flat, which was as tiny and demure as she seemed, I watched the transformation begin.
As her hands reached for the first button, her fingers fumbling over sliding it through the delicate fabric, I could see the change flow through her.
My commands had been harsh and she responded as I expected, not from fear but from a realisation that this is what she wanted, that this was her desire.
And as I directed her hands, to reveal finally those breasts that I had admired for so long, I watched her transform.
Still shy, head turned, unable to face me but her body betrayed her. Nipples fiercely erect, goosebumps rising, chest heaving. I could see her inner desire, the powerful slut overcoming her quiet self.
And I knew when I told her to spread her legs wide for me, to part her lips and coat her fingers in her glistening need, she would be drenched and her groan would be long, loud and true.
And my quiet shy bookworm’s transition to the thing we both knew she needed to become would have begun. And I, for one, would enjoy the journey.
Words by You Make Me Need You.
Source: misskaciemarie
Driven
Pushed against the cold metal of the car’s bonnet, she revels in the sudden chill, delicious against her hot skin. As his cock plunges in to her once again and her friend’s delicate fingers stoke her clit, her mind flashes back to the start of the evening…
Victoria tumbles out of the cubicle a few seconds later, dark hair a tangled mess flowing down around her flushed face, still looking gorgeous, Charlotte notes with a touch of faux-disgust. The women smile wickedly at each other across the bathroom as they go about adjusting clothing and hair.
‘Well?’ the word whip cracks from his mouth, dripping with menace, the tone demands an answer. Victoria stumbles over an attempt to dismiss the whole thing, an excuse of feeling ill and needing help.
There is something about this man that frightens and enthrals her, an inner strength that seeps out of the way he holds himself, his stance, the control in his voice. He is no pretty boy, hair tinged with grey, far removed from Hollywood’s idea of perfect but Charlotte can already feel her body reacting to him.
‘Bollocks’ is the curt response to Victoria’s plea and brings Charlotte out of her introspection. ‘I’ve been out her long enough to know what’s going on. So don’t try to fucking bullshit me. Out now, the pair of you. Follow me.’
He eventually brings them to a fire door, slamming it open, gestures through it. The scene beyond is a small yard, a few expensive cars parked at random intervals - obviously the private car park to the club. Stepping to one side, he simply points again and starts to turn away; at the arrogance of the gesture Victoria, never one to normally take crap from anyone, finally reacts.
‘This is totally unreasonable. We have friends in there, we need to tell them we are leaving, what about our coats. I want to see the damn manager and there is no way I am going out there. You can go fuck yourself.’
A second later they are outside, Victoria’s mouth opening and closing in a lost response. He holds them for a moment longer than needed, their bodies pulled close by the movement through the door.
‘Exit’s that way’ he nods, ‘Goodnight ladies’
‘Wait’ she says.
Victoria responds instantly, just as aware as Charlotte of the tension of the moment, the imminent threat has both women’s blood racing. The kiss is full, both women used to the other, tongues finding a familiar partner to play and dart around.
He pulls Victoria close in to him, his face a fraction away from hers, his brown eyes glowing like embers which threaten to burn Victoria where she stands, leaving nothing but a pile of ash. When he speaks, his voice is low, clear, resonating deep in the pit of her stomach. She stifles a groan at his control over her, the undertow of menace threatening to engulf her and sweep her away at any point.
They exchange looks, assessing the other, Victoria always the dominant, demanding force in their assignations, always the one to hunt. Now this level of outside control has the friend gasping, on the edge of frightened but more turned on than either would care to admit even in their most candid moments together. The whole exchange taking no more than seconds and ends with Charlotte slowly spreading her legs, feeling the solid bulk of the car beneath her.
Victoria turns to focus on her friend completely, finally turning her back on the menacing presence standing close behind her. Placing her hands on her friend’s knees she pushes her legs further apart, then continues the move, sliding her hands over the silk of her stockings, fingernails rasping along the sheer material, pushing her dress up. The swift motion reveals Charlotte’s strong legs, a feature Victoria had always found alluring, and exposes a shaved pussy, already wet, already gleaming.
Charlotte closes her eyes and tilts her head back as her friends hands continue to move, clamping around her hips, holding her in place. She groans as her friend leans down to caress those waiting lips with her mouth, tongue darting out to that familiar place, once again tasting her bitter sweet essence.
The cold of the metal against her bare skin is in delicious contrast to the heat being created as Victoria’s tongue slivers slowly over her pussy, little bolts of pleasure skip over her body as the tip darts and dips along the sensitive skin. She gasps as her friend finds her clit, alternating her movements between swirls and laps against the hard little pebble. She finds Victoria’s hair, taking the long dark locks between fingers, looking to guide her movements.
But Victoria is in her ascendancy, her dominance reasserting itself and she grasps Charlotte’s hand, slamming it back in place against the hard metal surface. Another gasp, followed by a yelp as Victoria’s desire rises and she forces several fingers between her friend’s heavy lips, she is rough, harsh and her friend reacts with a shout of joy.
She moves rapidly; finger, tongue and mouth all moving as one, an unforgiving animal now, a thundering rage of sensations that leave Charlotte’s heart hammering, her cunt screaming for more, to be filled, to be taken, to be used.
All the while he stands there, watchful, waiting, a predatory presence which, in the lust ridden heat of the moment, the women have forgotten. He has been patient, despite his hard cock dripping and straining, more so now than when he first heard them in the cubicle together. He watches with interest as the heat between these two women grows, their passion insulating them for the world.
And he waits, for that perfect moment to disrupt the passion, to interject when it will cause the most chaos. So he bides his time and takes a moment to reflect, to use the memory, the build up to this point to heighten his lust to a tempest ready to be unleashed on the unsuspecting pair.
He had in fact spotting them earlier in the club gently stroking and touching, subtle gestures of lust. In the dark recesses they had thought they were unobserved but he had noticed, he always noticed. As he watched the blond one furtively spread her legs while sitting on the bar stool in the quiet corner of the club letting her friend slip her hand beneath her dress, he had decided that he had to have them both.
He moves quickly, as Charlotte begins to quake, her body reacting to the orgasm building low within her, he is suddenly behind Victoria. His hand crashes across her backside, a powerful slap rings out and disorientates her for a moment. He pushes down on her, crushing both women beneath his weight, the sudden switch in pace and sensation dropping Charlotte from her imminent release, her eyes flicking open as her friend is forced between her slick thighs.
He moves with malevolent force, pulling Victoria’s dress above her waist in one swift movement, his legs kicking her legs wide. In the same movement he uncouples his belt, ripping open his suit’s fly, releasing his engorged ravenous cock, bears down with suppressed fury against Victoria’s unsuspecting cunt lips.
He is a beast which has slipped its chains, quickly mounting Victoria, his heavy hands wrapping her hair like a chain which he uses to arch her back against his forward thrust, easily slamming his cock deep within her swollen pussy in one deep sudden move. She screams in shock and ecstasy, as his full length invades her, greedy flesh pulling and sucking as his hard length.
He continues his chaotic embrace, hips pumping rapidly, aggressively hammering in to her. One hand slides past Victoria and buries itself between Charlotte’s ruby lips. Disorientated with each thrust, Charlotte feels each reverberation of her friends body against her own cunt, her clit crushed beneath Victoria’s hips, shooting fireworks of pain and pleasure.
And just as suddenly he stops, ripping his cock away from her dripping cunt, he leans across, heavy hands wrap around both woman, easily pulling them to their feet. Her turns them to face him, flushed faces glowing with a shimmer of passion, chests undulating in time to the hearts which hammer below. He holds them still, changing the pace again, slowly pulling them close, eyes locked.
He moves from one to the other, looking first in to grey blue eyes and then brown but each one shows the glowing ember he is looking for, the small hot core ready to be brought to life, to be made to burn brighter. And he knows they are burning inside, bodies screaming in need, unfilled, frustrated, thrown in to confusion by his shifting patterns, cunts raw with need.
His smile sends shivers racing again through both women, pure wicked intent drips from him. His strong arms move around them, first Charlotte and then Victoria feel the grasp of thick fingers as they wrap around their hair. At first pulls back the heads, exposing delicate necks to which he attends with sharp licks and deep bites.
And then he whispers, jerking each of them to attention, he delivers words of menace, malice, intended to penetrate to their core. He takes his time, one last look, face held close, his hot breath on their lips, a demon tongue flicking out to taste each of them. Then slowly, deliberately he pushes them to the floor, eyes held to him. He pulls them to his vibrant cock, bringing their mouths a fraction from his silky shaft and holds them there, still denied, so close but made to wait.
He plays, bringing them close, then denies them again, forcing a pleading groan from each ready mouth. Then finally, when he sees their ire rising, the lustful need in each of their upturned faces, he relinquishes his grasp.
‘Now’ and their lips descend to envelope him.
Words by — You Make Me Need You —
Picture Source - justemanuell
A Wicked Storm
He is a malevolent force, a wicked storm rising, a lustful anger that needs to be dissipated.
She will be late for her planned day this morning, finding herself woken, bound and turned over, pressed down in to the bed.
And despite his care for her, his protection of her, he takes her, his love for her today harsh, firm, forceful. Today she would be his toy, his plaything, his pet to use as he sees fit.
The evil beast inside him has woken up dominant today and she feels the full lash of its tongue and cock. It is ravenous, devouring her, using her up, filling her full of its evil spirit but leaving her shouting out for more.
And all the while he uses her body, his words are at her ear, slipping inside her mind, cruel, wondrous words, as if he sent another pair of hands to slip inside her, to fill your cunt from inside as well as out.
And then he pulls his weight away, cuts the trickle of his words. Waits, with just his hands resting on her hips, the sound of breath the only witness of their presence in the room. Not even the tick tick tick of the clock which he must have removed while she slept to give a sense of time.
Slowly, carefully, he turns her on her back. Props her up against a pillow, checks he bonds, moves a strand of hair from her face.
Takes one knee first, than the other and spreads her legs wide in one quick move, to display her glistening, raging need. He runs his fingers across her clit, his cock reacts to the sensation as always.
But he witholds, steps away, a beastly smile playing on his lips that devoured her so many times but she has only seen last night for the first time (and at the sight she knew she’d love).
Eyes always locked with hers, he dresses, puts on his glasses, pulls the knot of his tie into place and goes, leaving the echo of the latch vibrate through the room and the fire and pain inside and all over her glow, to be quenched when and if, he comes back.
He leaves that wickedness with her, curled and waiting in that dark corner of her mind, waiting for her to welcome its corrupting embrace and know she is ready for his return.
Words by — You Make Me Need You —
(via yourbadgrrl)
Source: mastersplaything
Driven
Victoria tumbles out of the cubicle a few seconds later, dark hair a tangled mess flowing down around her flushed face, still looking gorgeous, Charlotte notes with a touch of faux-disgust. The women smile wickedly at each other across the bathroom as they go about adjusting clothing and hair.
Last Emmanuelle shot. The video cover - again an iconic image, I think this set my expectations long ago on what was sexy and erotic. Just enough to get the pulse racing, while enough hidden to get the imagination and mind racing faster. Personally I think that is the right way around for most occasions.
Awakening Part II
As I lie there, encased between your hips, the taste of you lingering sweetly on my lips, I continue to stroke and play, teasing your body. I delight in the reaction I receive from each caress of my finger, each lap of my tongue, your hips twisting, your groans deep, dark and needful.
Suddenly your hands, once playful in my hair become harsh, urgent, pulling me up to face you.
You pull me level, your face flushed and beautiful, hair tussled and cascading around your ruddy complection. But it’s your eyes that have me, they say more to me than anything and you know it.
As I look into them, I look deep within you, all the way down and they talk to me, quiet desperate unspoken words - ‘I beg you to slide your thick hard heart into my aching wetness’ they seem to whisper.
And then you add your own voice, a cracked whisper driven from the strength of what you want and need
“Please… I need to take you in me, with me.”
As your words slip inside me, your lips brushing my ear, your fingers dig deep in to my arm, punctuating each phrase. And then your hands find me, tugging your need against my own straining desire. Your fingers curl around my cock and I moan my acquiescence.
Your hand moves along the length of my shaft as if you are some exotic snake charmer looking to control the dangerous beast in front of you to do your bidding, to bewitch it, charm it to enter you. Fingers surround me, cupping my balls in a less then tender embrace, squeezing your urgent message to me in some sort of erotic morse code. Fuck me, take me, fill me, end of message.
Your mouth finds mine, your urgent tongue another messenger of desire. Fingers not wrapped around my shaft, find their way across my body and rake down my back, your nails adding their own sound to the growing cacophonous shouts and demands to be taken.
Your body is soft and pliable beneath me, my weight commanding over you and I begin to exert that power. I push my thighs between yours, forcing your compliant legs apart, revealing a tropical forest of heat and damp. You groan as I pull back my hips and slide my cock away from your protective grasp.
As I slide my hand behind your head, lifting your neck, fingers entwined in your hair to pull your mouth more deeply to mine, I push my swollen head to test our heat.
You greedily twist beneath me, offering and presenting your cunt to be taken deeper, but I hold my distance.
‘Not yet’ I whisper, my tongue darting out, snake like, to slither along those delicate curves of your ear and neck. I pull your head to one side, exposing the soft pale flesh to my lips and teeth; and I feast, drawing deeply on your white meat. Even as your groans rise in my ears, your fingers dig deeper in to my back, demanding more,
My storm is rising, sweeping away the delicate prelude with a flurry of bites, scrapes and savage groans. Bringing my hands around, I wrap your arms up in mine, pulling them away from their perches in my back, and grasping your delicate wrists between my hand I pin your arms above your head, heavy pressure pushing them deep crisp white bedlinen.
A gasp escapes your ruby lips, as my free hand fits around your neck and pulls your attention to me with a firm grip, the fingers tight with menace and control. You hold my stare and I see the little fire of fear and lust buried just below the surface of those dark eyes I have disappeared in to so many times before.
There is quiet for a moment, suspended against time as the spark of desire jumps between us, your breath in my hands, you in my control, all you are held beneath me. I lean forward, my lips scrape yours, I feel your ragged breath, my tongue flicks again, tasting your fearful desire.
One word.
‘Mine’
And with that I plunge inside you, the threat enacted, a sudden slam of power shocks through you and is over as I withdraw fully, leaving just the head pressed against those heavy wet cunt lips. I am left with the after-image of hot wet flesh, tightly wrapped around me, the pressure heavy against the head of my cock as it waits impatiently to be fed again.
‘Tell Me’
‘Please’
I respond with another ricochet shot between those dripping heavy lips, a bullet of flesh ripping inside you, impacting your core only to rebound out to once again rest heavy and cruel against your lips. You shift beneath me, your cunt desperate for more, sucking and grasping at me. I tighten my grip, fingers digging against wrist and throat, hips pressed down to hold you still.
‘No. Tell Me’
You stare at me for a moment and then I watch the change in your eyes as you finally let go of the beast inside you, the inner slut slips her chains, and takes over your mind; I can feel your body relaxing to its new role.
‘Yours. I’m yours, everything, yours, use me, take me, fill me, please. Always yours, however you need, however you want.’
‘Good Girl’
As I say the words I begin a slow slide back inside, taking my time to hold your gaze as each inch pushes you open and buries itself within your hot wet embrace. I release my hold around your neck, happy you are now locked on me, your eyes never wavering from mine as I continue the long slow stroke inside. I slip the free hand underneath you, raising your hip, sliding your leg slow up over my shoulder ending the move in time with the motion of my hips to bury my length as deep as I can inside you.
I hold still again, for a moment, before I begin to grind and slowly rock against you, a steady, subtle twist within your hot folds. As I move, you reward me with a quiet gasp, your hands flexing beneath my grip, your mouth falling open with pleasure as the pressure against clit and cunt builds.
I lean forward, opening you further as I press your leg deep down against the bed, lengthening my stroke and roll inside you, all my weight bearing down on you. Each slide elicits a growing vocal chorus as I make each movement longer, stronger, harder. My vigour grows, my ardour stronger, my venom sharper, as I need more, the gentle lover recedes as the true dominate within gains control.
Fucking you hard, deep, I release your hands to gather up your other leg, drawing you up in to a tight bundle, pinning you down, spreading you wide. As I rise up, driving deeper, plunging over and over, you bring your hands around my hips pulling me in tighter, nails digging deep.
You tighten around me, your whole body pulling me deep inside you, voice rising against the relentless slide of hard and soft flesh; the low growl starting deep within, you shout loud as the first wave of orgasm rips through you. I cling on now, sweat coating my body as I continue to writhe within you, pushing on through your scream of release.
I hold your head, my lips finding yours hot, ready inviting, our eyes lock as the shouts of pleasure push me past my point of control. I cry out my own victory, as the fireworks spark through my mind and explode deep in my gut, my cock clutched by your vibrating flesh as I rock and pump within you, filling you.
I collapse in to you, wet slippery bodies sliding over each other, as the motion rocks slowly away in entropy and we instead lose ourselves within the other. Hands become soft, lips explore, fingers caress, words of love and comfort pass between us. We find a natural shape, curling in to a safe space, closely held, we drift away. And as I hold you, wrapped in your taste, my mind drifts with the final thought of where I will take you when I next awaken.
Words by —You Make Me Need You—
(via evilgirl333x2)
Source: moglam
The Gondola
Take the gondola ride, the message had said and bring this iPod with you.
She had picked up the message and package as she had arrived at the hotel he had arranged for her. Her first thought was that this was far too tame for his usual games but when the gondolier had step out of line specifically to offer his services, she knew this was no attraction the average tourist would ever see.
As the Gondolier pushed away from the edge of the steps, she slipped the headphones beneath her flowing hair and slid them inside her ears. At the tap of her finger the voice which flowed, his voice, dripped honey and his accent had the same affect it always did, she could feel the heavy ache build between her legs.
‘Remove your knickers for me now baby. And don’t worry about the Gondolier, he has his orders.’
She only hesitated for a second, enough to let the knowledge sink in that his game had begun. She moved elegantly, hands sliding the silk along her thighs, hips raised for a moment to let it caress past her pale, smooth backside. With a deft move she purposely slid them for each leg, knowing full well she was being watched. As she placed them within her Louis Viton, she tapped the screen once more and the voice dripped through her body once again.
‘Now I know you baby, so tidy, so precise, so in control. Take your knickers from your bag and hand them to the Gondolier.’
There was no hesitation this time, she knew the game was on and his challenges would go well beyond this minor inconvenience. She turns, fixes the Gondolier with brown eyes that were built by god to devour a man’s soul and calmly removes the expensive silk. A momentary flicker of pleasure crosses his tanned face as she presses them in to his calloused hand, his eyes never leaving hers.
Without a word she turns back and rests against the hard seat. His words begin to curl through her mind, a devious serpent sliding through the dark recesses, wrapping around those secrets she keeps even from herself and dragging them from the murky depths.
‘Spread your legs, slide your hand inside and run your finger over that soft skin I have tasted so many times before. But you are not to do more than I say, you will follow my directions to the letter. And while you must be restrained for me, for now, when I allow you to, you will let go completely, unrestrained, no matter where you are.’
She closes her eyes as her fingers and his words caress her body, the Gondola rocks gently beneath her to each powerful stroke pushing the tiny craft through the quiet canals. Unwittingly the motion of her fingers begin to mock the undulations, the Gondolier taking control of her rhythm. The long pole sliding through strong hands, a long delicate finger slides across smooth flesh, skirting dangerously close to the place forbidden to her.
As those hands roughly grasp the oar, as they have done a million times before, plunging it with one long powerful stroke across the waters below, her finger finds it’s own deep stroke, denied entry, she instead slides it hard against her clit, stiff and alert, demanding attention.
And so it goes, the rocking of the Gondola, connecting the woman lost to her own manipulations with the man standing behind her, watching with hungry envious eyes as her hand moves beneath her clothes, following the trace of her fingers beneath the Channel dress and the writhing motion of her hips.
Hands gripping the pole ever more tightly, each thrust a little more violent than the last, pushing the Gondola along with urgent strokes, transferring his lustful need to kinetic motion.
‘You may slide a finger inside baby but push it deep inside, hold it there and be still, focus on it for me, feel it, really feel it inside you. Imagine it is me, my fingers inside you, moving slowly, silk caresses, my eyes on yours, my mouth on yours.’
She throws her head back as the wave of pleasure builds, the mix of physical and aural caresses working their wonders, a small moan escapes from her cherry red lips. And all the while the steady slip, slide, push of the Gondolier continues.
‘Now open your eyes baby’
So lost in her own world of pleasure, these words jolt her back to the now. Looking around, the high, dirty walls of the surrounding buildings tower above, she realises the Gondola has been taken to a side canal away from the throngs of tourists and sightseers.
‘Now turn around but keep your finger inside, don’t stop, continue to stroke, play, touch for me’
She slowly rotates, eyes closing briefly as pleasure swells once more between her hot thighs. As she opens her eyes, the Gondolier is stand in front of her, his oar discarded for a more lethal weapon, those rough hands holding tight the thick girth of his metal hard cock.
‘Take him in your mouth, pleasure him, but he may not touch you, you may touch nothing but his cock. But all the while baby, play, touch, feel yourself for me. You are released, play free, enjoy. He will bring you to me once you have fulfilled his needs - so hurry baby, I need you’
Those brown eyes of hers look up once more but this time find flames of need burning in return. She leans forward, her hand still working beneath her dress, and slowly wraps the glistening head with her ruby lips, her tongue slides along the ridges which adorn the underside.
It is now her turn to slide, thrust and propel along the slippery pole; the Gondola rocks to a new rhythm as she pumps her head along his magnificence. And all the while, below, her hand continues to move, twist and turn, playing deep within her own flesh.
All too soon, she feels him stiffen, his hands almost moving but then returning to his sides despite his need to feel control as he builds to a release. And then as the warm flow floods her mouth, her own hand blurs as she brings herself to her long drawn out conclusion.
‘Swallow it all baby, take it all, don’t spill a drop.’
Head bobbing, hands weaving as both bodies shudder with the dying gasps of their orgasms, his words still ringing in her ears, she finally slumps back in to her seat, spent.
And as she sits there, finally taking in her surroundings, she sees him, standing on a small bridge hanging over the canal she rests on. She realises those final words were not recorded, but spoken. She smiles contentedly, which he returns.
The Gondolier’s final task is to push the craft across the small stretch of water and deliver her to him. He steps down to the dock, takes her proffered hand and gently lifts her back to land. She looks back just once to see the Gondolier, impassive again, oar in hand waiting to ride back to his life, as she slips in to hers.
(via mirellamel)
Source: 7pleiades7
ELEGY XIX. TO HIS MISTRESS GOING TO BED
Come, madam, come, all rest my powers defy,
Until I labor, I in labor lie.
The foe oft-times having the foe in sight,
Is tired with standing though he never fight.
Off with that girdle, like heaven’s zone glistering,
But a far fairer world encompassing.
Unpin that spangled breastplate which you wear,
That th’ eyes of busy fools may be stopped there.
Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime
Tells me from you that now it is bed time.
Off with that happy busk, which I envy,
That still can be, and still can stand so nigh.
Your gown, going off, such beauteous state reveals,
as when from flowry meads th’ hill’s shadow steals.
Off with that wiry coronet and show
The hairy diadem which on you doth grow:
Now off with those shoes, and then safely tread
In this love’s hallowed temple, this soft bed.
In such white robes, heaven’s angels used to be
Received by men; thou, Angel, bring’st with thee
A heaven like Mahomet’s Paradise; and though
Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know
By this these angels from an evil sprite:
Those set our hairs on end, but these our flesh upright.
License my roving hands, and let them go
Before, behind, between, above, below.
O my America! my new-found-land,
My kingdom, safeliest when with one man manned,
My mine of precious stones, my empery,
How blest am I in this discovering thee!
To enter in these bonds is to be free;
Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be.
Full nakedness! All joys are due to thee,
As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be
To taste whole joys. Gems which you women use
Are like Atlanta’s balls, cast in men’s views,
That when a fool’s eye lighteth on a gem,
His earthly soul may covet theirs, not them.
Like pictures, or like books’ gay coverings made
For lay-men, are all women thus arrayed;
Themselves are mystic books, which only we
(Whom their imputed grace will dignify)
Must see revealed. Then, since that I may know,
As liberally as to a midwife, show
Thyself: cast all, yea, this white linen hence,
There is no penance due to innocence.
To teach thee, I am naked first; why than,
what needst thou have more covering than a man?
By John Donne 1669
License my roving hands, and let them go
Before, behind, between, above, below.
These words - genius
Direction
The day had been slow torture.
He had warned you that he was in the mood to play, your time apart would soon be over and he had already told you he wanted you ready and wanting when he arrived.
A steady stream of texts, calls and emails had you quietly groaning all morning.
At first just subtle comments, sweet words of separation and longing. Little electronic words of love and desire, floating through the ether.
But as the morning wore on and the time of his arrival got closer, so the intensity of his attention increased.
Notes turned in to commands and orders, almost as he drew closer physically so his dominance over you grew.
Just before lunch, you found yourself fingers deep within your pussy, slowly slipping inside your already greedy flesh. His direction to play and taste but not to cum.
His cruel twist that it had to be in the office not hidden within a quiet cubicle. So you risked all, standing between shelves of filing praying that no-one would walk in as you slipped fingers between dripping lips and your willing mouth.
After a whispered update, you could feel your face redden at his next task. Already on edge, needing to cum but denied, his demand seemed even more cruel.
The walk was ecstatic agony, the toy buried deep within your cunt making each step a swirl of orgasmic temptation. Several times you had to stop and grasp a wall for support as you fought to surpress the urge to cum.
Returning to the office to a sea of concerned faces; was everything ok, were you feeling alright, did you need water, to sit down?
No, I just need to cum. You want to scream in their worried faces but instead you close the door and sit down at your desk.
The text beeps it’s next order. You slide the toy from between your swollen lips, shuddering as it finally slips it’s fleshy bonds. You pick up the phone, dial his number and slowly clean while he silently listens to you. No word follows when you finish, just the dial tone.
Bastard
As you sit there panting quietly, attempting to regain composure, there is a knock at the door.
Your secretary enters, a quizzical look on her face as she hands you a note.
‘This gentlemen called while you were at lunch, he wouldn’t leave a name but said you would understand.’
Two simple words, no wonder she looked confused, or was that poorly hidden jealousy, envy or contempt?
Come. Now.
Feeling the blood drain as you realised he had raised his game, beyond your own secret play time.
She leaves the room, no clearer but with instructions to cancel your afternoon appointments.
The trip to the hotel room blurs, a mix of avoiding questioning stares and your own wicked thoughts of what is to come.
As you take the key to the room, you are handed a note by the receptionist. More orders, hand written. He has dictated them over the phone. You can feel the eyes burn in to your back as you retreat to the lift.
In the quiet of the room you wait, your thoughts fly between a growing need to be fucked and taken, to end this day of tease and to round on him as soon as he enters the room, to rip him to shreads for the humiliation he has pit you through.
But he knows you too well, he has finely balanced his game, kept you teetering on the edge and as the door begins to open with a quiet, slow click you turn and follow his last note.
You turn and bend over the desk in the room, slowly pulling your skirt up above your hips, slightly parting your legs. As instructed you kept your knickers own but you know the drenched material betrays how much he has controlled you today, how much you need him.
As you place your hands flat on the desk and keep your head low, you feel his fingers slide across the smooth skin of backside. His scent surrounds you as his hands continue to move, although he has stayed silent, not a single sound since he entered the room.
As his fingers begin to move between your legs and pull aside the wet material they find there, it hits you sledgehammer hard. You begin to sit bolt upright as you realise that this is not him.
Even as strong hands begin to push you down and hold you in place the realisation slaps you across the face. The hands are too rough, too many callouses, the aftershave too cheap, the fingers exploring your cunt rather than knowledgeable, returning to a well known place.
You struggle against the weight pressing down on you, your voice rising in your throat to scream, shout, when the note is dropped in front of you on the desk.
‘The next move is your’s babydoll. You have a decision to make, the choice is yours. I have chosen your gift carefully, I know you better than you know yourself, I know you will enjoy this more than you would admit to yourself or me.
However I leave this one choice in your hands.
Turn and leave, or spread your legs’
Your mind is a whirl of conflicts, an escalation of all of the feelings he has built up in you throughout the day. As you struggle to come to a decision, you feel the continual presence of strong but unfamiliar hands, the fingers still inside you but held still, quietly tense, obedient to the rules of a game that neither of you has designed.
You slowly, deliberately spread yourself wide, feeling his fingers slip deeper inside you; unable to resist you push back against them to gain a small relief from the build up of pressure from the day.
As you stand there waiting, the next note drops in front of you to the sound of a belt buckle unclasping with a heavy metal clank…
(So does the story continue??)
(via his-good-girl)
The Writer (Entire Story)
The train was busy as usual, the crush of bodies fighting for space, looking to claim their own little oasis of calm among the throng. You barely glance up from your book, exchanging brief pleasantries over the sound of your iPod, as the man who has claimed the space settles down.
You suppress a groan as his bulk squeezes you against the side of the train, biting your lip hard as he then proceeds to remove a laptop and further invade your space. Obviously sensing your tension, he looks sideways with an apologetic smile and for a second his charming face almost overcomes your frustration.
You dive once more into the pages of your book, looking to escape the crush of reality and the arms digging in to your side. Quickly bored with the predictable storyline, you glance across at screen next to you, watching the words dance across the white expanse.
You suddenly catch your breath as the words penetrate your brain and sink in; ’sliding inside her wet cunt’ , ‘arms held taut as he plunges his cock deep inside’, ‘screams with rage as she feels herself stretched to her limits’ ‘does this turn you on?’
You stop at the last sentence, you realise that his fingers have stopped dancing across the keys, the cursor blinks at you, flashing accusingly, demanding a response. You glance away quickly, staring at the green blur of trees rushing by.
I've been called a Dirty Romantic and I liked it! 
