A Taste for the Exotic

Drawing my silk gloves over my fingers and to my elbows, I gazed out at the beautiful scene before me. From the balcony, I could see almost half of the estate. The sun was just sinking behind the tall trees, it’s last hurrah making the koi pond glitter as though it was filled with diamonds.

A faint, far-off roar caught my ear and, closer, the discordant squawk of startled macaws. It was feeding time for my beautiful pets. And it was playtime for me. Continue reading “A Taste for the Exotic”

The Confessional

God was six days sober
On the night that she was born
To the glistening star of a bible class
An icon now in religious porn
She was Alice through the glory hole
An ejaculate misconception
Disney-esque, the high priestess
Of greed and deepest dark deception

Verse from “Libertina Grimm” from the album “Thornography” by Cradle of Filth

Cum dripped down the latticed partition, making a network of sticky webs in the tiny crosses that had been carved from the wood. Libertina heard the sharp rip of a zip-fly, an embarrassed laugh, the scrape of curtain rings on a rusted metal pole. Low mumbles, soft laughing, back slapping. Continue reading “The Confessional”

The Legend of Lyonesse

Tommy stared at the sleeping girl on his bed. Her flushed cheeks were stained with the tracks of her tears, and right at the corner of her mouth, there was a blob of thick white gunk. He traced his fingers over her bottom lip, feeling his back sting with the stretch. He’d fucked her hard while she’d cried for him, and she’d clawed the skin off his back while he’d done it.

“Sweet Erato,” he whispered. “What a wicked, wild thing you were tonight.” Continue reading “The Legend of Lyonesse”

Friendly Fingers

I don’t think my heart has ever beat as fast as it is right now. It’s throbbing so hard it hurts. Tuesday will be my thirtieth birthday and, while I’ve pulled some strokes in my time, I’ve never done anything like this before. It could all blow up in my face, and in the worst of ways. I could lose a friend, end up with at least one black eye and some broken bones.

But, despite the risks, I’m doing it anyway. I can’t not, it’s irresistible. Continue reading “Friendly Fingers”

The Price of Defiance

She was watching me. Standing in the corner of the room, crop in hand, her eyes were fixed on me. I tried not to wince when she slapped the leather tip off the bare plaster wall behind her, but I failed. I cringed so hard the weight-lifting bench I was strapped to scraped over the floor, just a little, and her resulting snigger, though soft, seemed so loud to me. Continue reading “The Price of Defiance”

Bound & Gagged

Mascara stung my eyes. Salty, chemical spiked tears tripped over my tongue. I curled my knees to my chest, hearing tape creak as it rubbed against itself and found more places to stick together, ensuring that with each and every wriggle, escape became less likely. All I could do now was make myself small as I could in the hopes that, when we finally stopped, they’d forget I was here. Continue reading “Bound & Gagged”

Under the Sea

Lydia Parsons is the love of my life. I adore her. I breathe for her. Every single moment of my life is taken up by thoughts that are dominated by her face and her voice. She asks every day what it is that makes me love her so completely, but it’s impossible to give her a definitive answer.

So I tell her something different every time. One day I told her it was the scent of honey shower gel on her skin. The next I told her it was the way her morning hair made her look like she’d used dynamite as curlers. Last time she asked me? I’d pulled her knickers down, right in the middle of our back garden, and told her I loved her because her ass is a peach and her pussy delivers the cream. Then I’d buried my face in her soft pubic hair and licked that delicious pussy until it came in my mouth. Continue reading “Under the Sea”

You Can Keep Your Jeans On

The bubbles were gone from my glass of champagne. I’d sat nursing it for almost an hour, listening to my husband chatting and guffawing with the men from the firm. They’d talked business, golf, cars and yachts, and then business again. Eleanor’s husband had ensured she had a fresh drink at hand all evening, and Zara’s was constantly asking if she was hungry. He even got up to dance with her at one point.

But Walter? He hadn’t looked at me once since he’d sat down, and the drink I was now glaring at I’d had to go and get myself.

I placed my glass back on the table and turned my head, considering my husband quietly. My Walter had always been a handsome man when he smiled. Sharp jaw, straight nose, bright eyes… and that smile. It had been enough to make me swoon once upon a time. Continue reading “You Can Keep Your Jeans On”

Glorious Hole

GLORIOUS HOLE

When the door closed behind me, the room I’d entered seemed almost dark. Settling in a chair in front of the glass partition, I wiped my damp palms on my jeans. I’d only been here once before and uncertainty was making me sweat. My friend had brought me with him that time, but only for support. I hadn’t been expected to take part in what had occurred, and that was fine by me because I wouldn’t have known where to start.

Sadly, a whole year later, I still didn’t have much of an idea.

Part of my problem was lack of practical experience, but if I was brutally honest with myself, the major factor in my ignorance was this place. My mind had been on it for twelve long months. Obsessing. Craving. Needing. Continue reading “Glorious Hole”