Wicked Wednesday: The Long Wait 5

In her bed, when she’d lost count of her orgasms and her body burned, she found herself sitting up, her back to him, his cock pressed against her ass.

He spread her legs, and put his right hand on her cunt. He patted, and the pats became blows. She knew, in her conscious mind, that he was spanking her cunt quite hard.

But it didn’t hurt at all.

His voice sounded strained, urgent: “Say, thank you, sir!”

And, lost, when his hand next landed, fingers spread on her soft, wet self, Ellie wailed, “Thank you, Master!”

She felt him hardening. “I think you’re right.” He sounded surprised.

Later, her face in a pillow, her ass up, being ridden, she howled again, a ululation of pleasure and of something wrenching, shifting inside her.

When she was finished he rode her hard, seeking only his own pleasure. She felt his whole body spasm when he came in her. She’d pleased him. That mattered.

When his body had relaxed he kissed her ear and rolled to lie beside her, his arm over her body.

“You called me Master.” 

She felt a chill. He was going to be sensible now. Restore sense. “I did. I’m sorry, I know you didn’t ask me to. It just felt right.”

“We’ll talk about it in the morning.” Her heart sank. “But if you meant it, then I’m happy to be –”

Ellie wriggled back towards him, her skin against his. She thought about sucking him hard again, but he’d fallen asleep.

In the morning they’d talk. But he’d taken her, and when she’d given him more he’d taken that too. Maybe she had a Master, and… He’d made her wait half an hour. Half an hour and thirty-four years. She followed him into sleep.

[The end]

Masturbation Monday: Emilia’s Tale 5

Towards morning, the hash sweated out of me and my mind and tongue working again, I hoisted Emilia on top of me and, when I judged she was concentrating fiercely, riding me to her orgasm, I gave her bottom a series of encouraging slaps.

She made a lust sound, an animal sound from somewhere deep in her throat, and held my shoulders tight, so that was clearly right. As she got closer to coming I slapped her shuttling arse and thighs hard, then very hard, and that was right too.

She shouted the only command I’d ever let her get away with – “Harder!” – and I smacked her till her ass and, it seemed, her mind were burning hot. She fell forward onto me, screaming into my ear as she came. 

Emilia had dodged the talk I thought we should have, so that served as our discussion. She didn’t need words quite as much as I did.

So we were lovers, then, who knew about each other from the first night. Carefully, we expanded our range.

So we were together the next night as well, and I held her down and wrapped rope around her wrists to see what would happen, and what happened is that Emilia sighed and wriggled, content to be bound. So I took the poor helpless girl over my knee and spanked her long and hard, and that brought forth stronger pleasured sounds.

And then she roilled onto her back, still tied, and pointed her toes at the ceiling. Different corners of the ceiling. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse. We fucked: strong, committed fucking.

So it went by increments until we’d established that, for example, if I tied her ankles and wrists to the bed-ends and strapped her bottom and thighs with my belt till they were deeply, hotly red, she’d respond with even noisier lust.

Emilia could not only tolerate pain that would have me screaming and whimpering, she could ride that pain and turn it to sex. 

Two months later I broke my rules about emotional safety and declared wonderstruck love for Emilia under another starry sky. Because her mother had advised her never to believe anything a man said outside the legal hours of daylight, I repeated the declaration in the morning, sober, straight and still wonderstruck.

Sinful Sunday: Soulful stripes

There comes a time when punishment is over. Time moves fast during a caning, and then, when the last stroke is delivered, it slows down. Nearly to a stop. There is pain, and there is peace.

She’d been warned about consequences of not doing university work before, and she knows that the punishment was an act of love, and she deserved it. No matter how much it hurt. 

But she knows, too, that he still has the cane in his hand, as a badge of office, almost. Justice is one of the strongest ties between master and willing slave. And, justice or not, she knows he’s hard for her. 

In a moment he’s going to hold her. And kiss her, and tell her she’s good, and he’ll help her get the overdue assignment finished. But for now, the assignment isn’t what matters. His need for her, and hers for him; that matters. In a few seconds, no more, they’ll be fucking. 

Plans

I’m going to get back to my schoolgirl spanking story, the Jennifer and Maddie saga, soon. 

This is a plan, or map, of the island to the south of the Australian mainland. For some reason you only have to say  “map of Tasmania” to make Australians laugh.

I also intend to publish it in a series of e-books. Probably in slices of about 40 pages at a time, since that seems to be around standard for erotic e-books. 

Which means I have to find a couple of women ready to be cover models. Pleated skirts and side-boob. No twats. Will be paid. Interested? Contact me!

I have to finish my non-bdsm novel, which I’d hoped to have done by the end of August, but I got held up by paid work coming in. That takes precedence. 

I have to tidy up a novel I’ve had provisionally accepted by a publisher. Because of fuck-ups in version control it needs one last go-through to lose the typos, repetition and inconsistencies. I want to save their copy-editor some work.

This is the legendary Louise Brooks, who will never get lost in Tasmania.

I’ve also got to tidy up another non-erotic novel, which has a few problems that can be fairly easily repaired.

It really should be on the market, so I’ll take the time to make it at its best and most saleable self. That should take about five day’s work. 

Then I get back to the novel I was supposed to have finished by the end of August.

And I need to do some paid work soon. The bank account is starting to look a little sad. 

And that will keep me busy enough for a while.

Wicked Wednesday: The long wait 4

“Not for trusting me. For disobeying me, and for being silly about safety calls. This is the last time I’ll repeat this order: come here.”

Come here, Ellie thought. Here. I’m going to come, with you, here on my couch, for the first time. She felt light-headed. “This is when you tell me to bend over?”

“Just lower yourself over my thighs. Use your fingers and toes to keep yourself steady. Make sure you’re comfortable. I’m going to spank you. But you’ll be ok. I’ll look after you.”

That made no sense. But Ellie put her hand on his shoulder and leaned forward. He helped her down. She wriggled, exploring her new position, amazed that she might become used to it. He pushed the robe to her shoulders. She felt the air on her body. “One more thing. When I give you an order, I want you to say, Yes, sir. Just before you obey me. Can you do that?”

“Uh.” Ellie felt his hand, stroking her bottom. Then the lightest warning pat. “Yes, sir,” she said quickly. 

“Feet apart.”

“Yes, sir.” Ellie shuffled, opening for him. His cock was hard, under her belly. He wanted her. Well, that made them even.

His hand landed. The impacts moved from left to right, lower and higher, in a steady, unchanging rhythm. Slowly the smacks got harder, and Ellie could feel the heat. She must be red by now. There was pain, then more. Why was this heaven? She began to rock herself on his lap, pressing against his cock.

He spanked her hard now, so that it hurt, really hurt. It was still heaven. She made a throaty noise. At last he stopped. She felt his fingers trailing down into the cooler skin between her buttocks, and slid her feet a little further apart. He said, “Beautiful girl. Good girl.”

His fingers entered her, reaching deep, then pressing downwards. Oh god. He stroked her, pressing his thumb against her cunt, his fingers fucking her. Reaching deep inside her.

“Oh,” Ellie said, then, much later, “Ohf!” The sweetness surged and took her. Her orgasm cry reminded her of a wolf under the moon.

She gasped, head up, savage, then let her head fall forward and down, while he stroked her. Ge was pleased with her, she knew.

He kept her on his lap, praising her, stroking her. Finally he let her go, and she sank onto her knees before him, looking up at his eyes.

He smiled down at her. 

“I seem to remember, when we were talking. On the phone. You mentioned amazing fellatio skills.”

 

Masturbation Monday: Emilia’s Tale 4

Emilia lived at the end of a long climb up narrow streets to a row of old wooden houses. I stopped at her door, far above the city, taking in the view while I got my breath back. I’d decided to make at least some of my intentions obvious, so I’d brought wine and chocolate and flowers. I knocked at the door.

But it was a man who opened the door, who enjoyed my disappointment before introducing himself. Vijay was another doctor, with long glossy black hair, a chiselled face and startlingly white teeth. He was alarmingly handsome and charming. Fortunately, it was soon clear that Vijay preferred his lovers paler and maler than Emilia. Emilia let herself be found in the kitchen. I appreciated the effort, and also her dress, which was simple and satin, black with large red flowers, and low-cut. 

I put my arms around her, holding her ass to keep us… steady. She kissed me. Once again she had my cock hard, seeking her, this time through cotton, denim, satin and silk.

Dinner was enjoyable enough, but the conversation seemed mainly to be between Vijay and me. I’d hoped to talk with Emilia, but there was no opportunity. Still, soon after dinner Vijay left us, heading for the clubs. But at the door he directed a broad wink at me. So I’d been vetted and approved, which was something.

I started my planned conversation with Emilia, but before I’d said much she led me out to the balcony. She excused herself while I gazed down at the night-lit city, and returned with what she said was Vijay’s hash pipe. She filled, lit and inhaled, and passed the pipe to me. For years I’d seldom bothered with marijuana. I especially avoided it around women, because a man who isn’t handsome or physically impressive has to keep his wits.

My best feature is conversation, and drugs reduce me to tongue-tied idiocy. What I wanted to say to Emilia would be complicated even if my mind were clear. But the pipe was lit and a woman I wanted to please was offering it to me. I took it and inhaled as little as I felt I could get away with.

But even a tiny amount of marijuana is enough to send me spinning. In no time the city was a great velvet shawl studded with multi-coloured lights, cellos played at random, heaven’s ebon vault was unutterably bright, and Emilia’s face, near mine, was enormous, and glowing with some joke that I didn’t know, a joke that might worry me if I did know it.

But when she smiled there were dimples, and it was the most beautiful face that could possibly be. Still marijuana-spun, I tried to think of something to say.

After some time I thought of a conversation-starter. “The city”, I could say to her, indicating which city I meant with a casual wave over the balcony, “it’s nice, isn’t it?” I did not say this, but nothing better came to mind. Panicked, I finally said, “you”, and kissed her face.

Later Emilia’s hands were under my shirt, and I’d pulled down her dress to kiss her breasts, warm and round and, from her time in the kitchen, smelling of flour and chilli. I had my mouth and my mind full of her hard, soft and slippery flesh, until Emilia pinched my nose so I had to lift my mouth and stare up at stars and her eyes.

She touched her forehead to mine and said I’d have to go home now, or take her to bed. That seemed an odd way to put it. I said, “bed better”, the first words I’d managed in some time. I thought they were rather good.

E{lust} is here again; so get that lust in to your brain

May more Elust 109 Header image swiming naked in a pool
Photo courtesy of Sex Matters ~ May More

Welcome to Elust 109

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~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

A Picture Is Worth a 1000 Words
House Sitting
Shackles & showers

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Comfort Girl
A Pain in the Neck

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

An idea that didn’t slap me in the face

Erotic Fiction

Solicitation
Masks
Crescendo
The Key to Room 237: Freya – Part 1
Masked Woman

Body Talk and Sexual Health

Mad World
Be afraid…
“Good For Disabled People”
Why I Take Sexy Selfies

Erotic Non-Fiction

SOFT SEX – HARD SEX
Mating Megan
Alone
Face Slapping ~ a controversial issue?
Fuck toy
Lost Pleasure, Found

Thoughts & Advice on Kink and Fetish

Sometimes love don’t feel like it should
Submission

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Why Couldn’t I Just Ask for Lube?
Sensational
I panicked.
Coming in handy
P is for Polyamory
Racy Red

Poetry

-05.08.18_20:55-

Elust

Wicked Wednesday: The Long Wait 3

2

The door opened. Ellie looked up at him. He was taller than she’d expected, blond, with a ridiculously fashionable haircut. He wore jeans and a good jacket. He’d sent pictures, but you never know until you actually meet someone. He smelled of walnuts, she thought. Walnuts and oiled wood.

He smiled at her, and her heart lifted. She’d been afraid of what he’d think of her. He said, as if he were surprised, “God, Ellie, you’re beautiful! And you’ve done as you’re told. You’re lovely. And good.”

She gaped at him, embarrassed, happy. She had nothing to say back. She couldn’t think.

He reached for her head. Ellie opened her mouth, expectantly, but he grabbed a handful of her hair. “Stand,” he said. She fumbled, trying to obey but clumsy, and he eventually pulled her up himself. His eyes were still kind, but there was something about his mouth. He said, “Put your hands by your sides. Now, please.”

She obeyed, frowning. Should she obey? Then she felt his hand land on her bottom.

The skin buzzed where he’d made contact. She’d let a man smack her. Now he smiled. “When I tell you to do something …”

“I do it, quickly?

He smacked her again. Her bottom … No, her cunt felt it. She’d imagined this many times, using both hands as she thought of it, till she came. The reality was as confusing and as arousing as she’d hoped. She felt the sex of it, the heat, the need it brought her, deep inside. 

His arms held her. He was warm. He stroked her, where he’d spanked. Then he let his finger slip between her buttocks, to stroke her cunt gently. Ellie gasped, and straightened, still in his arms. He was testing how wet she was, she thought. Then: No, he knows that I’m wet.

He’s showing me he isn’t going to ask for my permission to touch me. She leant her head against his shirt, kissed his chest.

He said, “That’s right. Obedience means obeying quickly. Which reminds me: are you expecting your safety call?”

Oh, shit! He’d stressed it, but she’d already decided he was ok.“No. I–No, I forgot.”

He nodded, as if resigned. He let her go—she wanted his body back—and sat on the couch.

He looked up, and indicated his knees. “Ellie, I’m glad you trust me, but… First, I told you to have a safety call. You agreed that you do as you’re told. That’s how this works. Second, not having one is stupid and irresponsible. Come here.”

Ellie came to him. She looked at him, not sure whether she was afraid or if she was teasing him. “You’re going to spank me for trusting you?” 

 

Masturbation Monday: Emilia’s tale 3

I’d just threatened to spank Emilia for misbehaviour. And Emilia had agreed that I should. So I said, “But I’d still be doing it for your own good, Emma.”

That sounded stupid to me, but I thought that if she’d liked my first line, she might like that too. Or it might be ridiculous. Emilia considered and then nodded, gazing at the carpet. then she looked up at me. That “dropping her eyes” thing: was that calculated?

I had no idea. She said, “Yes, I know. It would be.” I wondered if she believed it. We’d been maudlinly sincere together so often that what we told each other was usually true. “So yes, you should.”

I believed it, myself. I said, “Ah…”

But more importantly I squeezed her ass that little bit harder. And patted her. And then smacked her. She put her arms round me, and our bodies pressed together. Hard cock to her belly. I lifted her t-shirt at the back, and let her feel the cold morning’s air before I smacked her again. A little harder, my hand on bare skin. Her mouth opened, but she wasn’t looking at me. I smacked her again. This time it was audible.

A little too audible; there were people sleeping in every room in the house. 

So here was an armful of warm girl, and a most complaisant and consenting girl she was turning out to be. I suppose I was something of a surprise to her too. We’d never talked about this.

But there was nothing we could do before other guests started waking up. Except for removing my erection from Emilia’s belly. So I kissed her with meaning, desire and emphasis and then – since it had to be done – released her. “We’re going to talk, aren’t we?”

Emilia agreed that we’d talk. In fact I should come to her place on Wednesday and she’d give me dinner. And then we’d… talk. I think that neither of us expected that we’d say many words during that… talk. But in the meantime we gathered the party detritus, taking glasses and plates back to the kitchen.

I set myself a sexless word puzzle. How to turn COCK to SOFT? COCK, CORK, um, WORK, WORT, SORT, SOFT. By the time I’d worked that out the front of my dressing gown was flat enough to be socially acceptable. After pushing herself back into another hug, and accepting one last squeeze, Emilia went back to the room she’d slept in, to wake her friend. We had no more time. People were stirring.