E[lust] 102: Post-Christmas cheer

Annie Savoy Elust 102 header image
Photo courtesy of Annie Savoy

Welcome to Elust 102

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #103 Start with the rules, come back February 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Baby, baby…

O Come All Ye Faithful

Christmas Eve

 

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Not “only” CP

Whispered Obscenities

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Happily Barren

Erotic Fiction

Hot Chocolate
Eve
Jingle Bells

Erotic Non-Fiction

Four Acts in Oral Fluids
When a mid-winter sprint became a marathon
Gadget Man
I’m afraid of jinxing it
Oh my God, what an afternoon I’ve had!!!

Poetry

Plea of the Chaste
-04.01.17_17:52-

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Reality Bytes: Reflections on Expectations
Emotional Baggage – Say You Won’t Let Go.

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

After the sunshine
Spit or miss

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

The politics of people who take part in BDSM

 

 

 

Elust

Wicked Wednesday: The Kiss 5

The story so far…

I take my loved slave Arethusa to Club Bento, a bdsm nightclub. I meet an ex-submissive of mine, Delores, who is showing the club to Cash, who turns out also to be an ex of mine. 

(If you spend enough time being a really dedicated slut, as I had been before Arethusa, then the chances of you having had sex with at least two or three people in any given nightclub in your city starts to approach 100%. The same applies to bdsm sex and bdsm nightclubs.) 

Eye contact? Not _always_

Arethusa and Cash eye each other off, and it’s agreed, non-verbally, that Cash, Arethusa and I are bound for my bed, some time in the early hours of the morning. But Cash goes off dancing, then Delores goes looking for a dom to bruise and fuck her that evening. Arethusa and I go and get lovey-dovey in a dark area where there are seats and, in our case, champagne. 

But now this story will follow Delores for a while.

Now read on…

Delores still had her glass of champagne, because she wasn’t really much of a drinker. Still, it made her look elegant, and gave her something to do with her hands while she looked around. 

Bedroom eyes. Leather panz. What more do you want?

A young man came over, dressed in tight leather pants that squeaked when he walked. His name was Marty, and he’d wanted to be her Master once. She’d been interested, until he’d tied her up and flogged her far harder than she’d agreed to. When she’d told him to stop, he’d said he was punishing her, so safewords didn’t count. When he released her, he told her she’d been a good girl. She’d slapped him hard, and told him to fuck right off. 

But here he was, with one hand on her shoulder, turning her round. “Hey, Delores!” He made to kiss her. 

Arethusa isn’t afraid of men, because she’d never been with one who’d wanted to harm her. But Delores has had a different life. She isn’t afraid of men because she’d experienced the worst, the very worst, they can do. She said, “I haven’t told many people what a pathetic, sick little fuck you are. I need to fix that. And if you don’t get your hand off me and fuck off in two seconds, you fucked-up little coward, I’m calling a bouncer.”

He went from scowl to smile in about a second. “Jesus, Mary-Jo, chill out for god’s sake. I’m just sayin hello.”

Mary-Jo was her given name, which she’d rejected. Marty was insulting her by using it, but in a deniable way. He was a passive-aggressive, whiny little sadist. When the two seconds were up and Marty was still there, she shouted, “Hey, Ron!” Ron the bouncer, not a small man, headed her way.

Marty snarled, “Crazy fucking bitch” and disappeared into the crowd in the dark.

Ron arrived. “”Hey, Delorry, you ok?” 

“I’m ok. Keep an eye on that little shit who was pestering me. And…” 

“Yep?” Ron, a sensible man, remembered Delores, liked her and trusted her judgment. 

“He’s a non-consent player.” Ron bristled. They give bdsm, and doms in particular, a bad name. But he said nothing, waiting. “If you see him getting lucky with anyone, it’d be a favor to all womankind if you fucked up his night.” 

“Ok. Done. Thanks for the tip. I don’t think he’s coming in here again. I mean, he can do what he likes, but he’s not getting in the door.” 

“Good.” Delores tiptoed and kissed him on the cheek. He clutched the spot, as if overcome. He smiled and, as he was walking away, turned and blew her a kiss.

Scuse fingers. (And no orgasms allowed.)

So that was a good outcome, she thought, but Marty had fucked up her mood for a bit. She looked for me, but I was kissing Arethusa with my hand under her tutu, and Arethusa was squirming nicely. She wasn’t allowed to come, and she was wondering about begging, with another Master and his slavegirl sitting so close. I slipped a third finger into her.

So Delores looked for Cash, instead. She turned around (I hadn’t seen her), and went to check the dancefloor. 

Girls, eh. What can you do?

And so she saw Cash on the edge of the dancefloor, kissing another girl, with the girl pushed a little back and Cash’s hand on her arse. Cash had kissed many girls; the other girl hadn’t. This was new for her: twenty-one and never been kissed. Not by a girl, anyway. But it was an intense, sex kiss. 

Delores, for all her many virtues, doesn’t really see that girl-on-girl can be a real thing, so she approached them instead. But before she’d got in range, Cash had grabbed the girl’s hand and was pulling her, she following very willingly, into the women’s toilets.  

[To be continued.]

 

An Award!

This is most amazing! I’ve listed in the Top 100 Sex Bloggers! 

This is the third year in a row! So I’m doing something right. 

This makes me feel very happy.

I’m very grateful to the amazing Molly for her hard, dedicated work making this award thing happen, and to Chaturbate for generously sponsoring it. 

If you’re feeling kindly, remember that we writers like being read, and we love feedback! (Money makes us orgasm, but I aint asking for no cash. At this time.)

But, going back to feedback, drop me a line! Use that Contact Us button above this post. Or comment on any post. 

I’m looking forward (or pathetically hoping) to hearing from you! Ask me anything! Or better yet, tell me anything!

 

Kink of the week: An anal virginity

She was on her hands and knees, looking at the sheet below her. “I mean, I’ve been wanting to try this. I’ve wanted to get my ass fucked for ages.”

I smiled and hoped she wouldn’t see. If I said something that impersonal to her, there’d be hell to pay. “Well then, it’s lucky I’m here.”

She didn’t realise I was joking. She said, quickly, “And I think it should be you. You… Well, at least you know what you’re doing. I think.”

“I’m honoured. No, seriously. And I want you. Right now especially your ass.” I took her hand by the wrist and put it on my cock, to demonstrate the point. “I absolutely want to fuck your ass.” 

“O”. She stroked gently. A hard cock is, after all, generally a sincere compliment. Then she tightened her grip so she could feel the blood, beating, throbbing for her. It’s a perfectly ordinary cock, mine, but there was no doubting its enthusiasm at that moment. She nodded. Obviously I didn’t have any doubts.

“I guess I want you to do whatever you like. So long as you do it hard.” But she had one more thought. “Still, remember… this is my first time.”

I looked at her with disbelief, then quickly got that expression off my face. Anyway, she meant she was trusting me, and that’s always an aphrodisiac. Anyway, it was time to stop thinking. I took one of my condoms, ripped the packet open with my teeth, and rolled the thing onto my cock.

There’s a speech I usually make at that moment, about how I’d hate it if anything hurt her, apart from good hurts that don’t count, so she should tell me at once if anything didn’t feel good. And she can set the pace, as slow and gentle or hard and fast, as she felt comfortable with. Then I cover saying no, safewords, and a few related topics. That’s what I usually say. But intuition can tell you odd things.

This time I just smacked her bottom again. She yelped, not displeased. I used the command voice to tell her to keep that ass up and get her knees further apart so I could fuck her. If she didn’t I’d smack her till she did as she was told. This was bullshit, but she nodded seriously.

She spread her knees as wide as they’d go, which lowered her ass a few inches closer to the bed. Buggering her in that position would be very comfortable. For me, at least. I said, “perfect, girl.” I reached under her belly to squeeze her cunt. She sucked her tummy in and spread just a little wider, to give me better access.

She was utterly, soppy wet to my touch. I want to roll her onto her back and kiss her cunt. Then fuck her. But that wasn’t the agenda, and it was time. So I growled, “Keep still,” so she had something to obey, and pressed my slippery left forefinger and index finger against the tight little bud of her asshole.

Her asshole, now holding two of my fingers up past the first knuckle, was extremely tight. It took a moment for her little muscled ring to yield and open. Still, she was very thoroughly lubed. Once my fingers were inside her, I could slip in to the second knuckle without too much difficulty. 

She held herself tense, ass still enticingly in the air, and her face was set. She was withholding judgement but expecting this to hurt. 

I said, “How you going? This ok?” 

“Uh.” She shook her head. “I hadn’t expected it to feel so intimate. It’s very… invasive.” 

She was staring at her pillow, focused on her sensations and not on me, except for two of my fingers.

I smiled. “Yeah. You don’t have many secrets left, from the man with his cock up your ass.” 

That was nonsense too, like a lot of things I’d said that night. 

But it seemed that she liked feeling invaded, and that would intensify that feeling. She only said, “Ohh.” And she left her mouth open after she’d said it. 

I squeezed more lube into my hand, coating my fingers and inserting more into her ass. Then I slowly fucked her with my fingers, letting her imagine how my cock would be, once I was demandingly inside her. The reality of the fingers, and the proximity of my cock, seemed to be good, sensual things, and her noises were soft and appreciative. But eventually I withdrew my fingers. She seemed to mind their absence. 

I coated the condom liberally, especially around the head of my cock. “You can tell me to stop and pull out any time. Or to slow down.” 

Her mouth quirked. My solicitousness didn’t fit the experience she was having. She was enjoying being brutally fucked. By a brutal fucker. She said, “I know that. And I’m fine. Don’t fuss.” 

Not so long ago she’d been warning me that this was her first time. It seemed she’d decided she could handle this without any more warnings. I smacked her upper thigh, hard, and she settled back, her arse up and presented. I took my place kneeling between her knees, my hands on her hips, and my cock nosing urgently against that lube-slicked little star. A dark star.

I lined my cock up against her asshole with my hand, and kept my cock steady while I pushed against her. After a couple of second’s of resistance, there was that sudden, dramatic opening, as Qing’s rectal muscles yielded, and I was inside her. Just the head of my cock at this stage, being held by a tight and reactive little ring.

Once my cock had taken its first entrance of her I slowly pushed a little further forward to make sure I couldn’t slip out of her ass by accident.

Then I moved a little deeper still and her ring tightened on the shaft of my cock.

She trembled under me, on her bed on her hands and knees, with most of my weight on her back and my cock half-buried in her ass. I was riding her a little higher than I had so far that night, and that seemed to come with its own symbolism attached.

The higher angle, not to mention the tightness of her ass, was a new sensation, too. In sex a small difference is a huge difference, if you’re paying attention. 

Her tight little tube held my cock firmly and softly. If it was heavenly, and it seemed so, then I was in heaven.

Many submissive women don’t like anal. And plenty of women enjoy being fucked up the ass but don’t care about bdsm at all. I know that, but I also know that that moment of give, when a woman opens and yields up her ass to my cock, always feels like submission. At least to me. That’s part of what makes anal possession of a woman feel so hot and so savage, even though the dom is (or should be) taking a lot of care not to really hurt her. She’s submitted, or at least given the dom that illusion.

She was puffing as if she’d run a mile. A sex mile, with me riding on her back. She still couldn’t manage to produce words, but she nodded. I smiled at her. She made the kissy face, so we were good.

Because I needed to, I pushed my cock further into her, revelling in every movement. She grunted (“oh, that’s happening”) but she seemed happy to be buggered. At each moment I could feel her start to resist I’d stop and withdraw a little, as slowly as I could, and thrust forward again.

Each movement took my cock a little further into her, and withdrew a little less. Until my belly pressed against the silky warmth of her ass, my cock deeply and completely inside her. I wanted to tell her I was pleased with her. I said, “Ah fuck, girl.”

That was probably about as sensible as whatever it was that she’d just said, but at least I hadn’t screamed mine. Then we both forget about words and breathing, and fucked in silence, until I stopped holding her hips and dropped my hands to support my weight on the bed.She fell forward onto her breasts and shoulders, arching her ass up at me. Tightly joined, she put her hands on the backs of mine and held tight. 

I started to speed up because her sweetly tight ass and her own arousal had taken me past the point where I could choose whether or not to come. Qing stopped still, suddenly, pushing herself hard but slowly against my cock, getting it as deep as possible.

I could feel contractions inside her. Then she rocked as fast as she could, making high-pitched squealing and gibbering noises.

She’d have fallen flat on the bed once she’d come but I wouldn’t let her. I held her ass tight up against me and fucked her until I’d come too. Then we lay together, with my arm around her and my cock still hard inside her. For a long time there was no reason to move or speak.

Share Our Shit Saturday (belated)

The Share Our Shit concept, at least in relation to sex bloggers, was suggested by the wonderful Girl on the Net

It’s a way of responding to the insidious ways we are being squeezed by various internet services. For example, Twirtter is quietly blocking some people’s posts without telling them. Patreon has introduced new and stifling rules for sex bloggers.

One thing we can do, though, is Share Our Shit. We can help ex other by sharing our audience and our exposure. 

Each week (or possibly fortnight) I’m going to steer my readers in the direction of five good things written by other sex bloggers, that week. (Or maybe fortnight.) 

That way they get exposure, and you might decide to follow them, or buy their products or their books. 

The third S is SOSS stands for Saturday: Share Our Shit Saturday. This, to be honest, is not Saturday. 

I’m slow. Still I have a habit of getting there in the end. So: here are my five recommended Sex Blog pieces this week! 

1  Cara Sutra sings the praises (and considers the relationship benefits) of Selfish Sex!

http://carasutra.com/2017/09/selfish-sex-drastically-improve-sex-life/

2 Marie Rebelle writes about reading sex blogs (or looking at the pictures), in circumstances that would certainly suit me…

http://rebelsnotes.com/2018/01/reading/

3  Cousin Pons writes an oddly moving story about anonymous commercial sex

https://books1799.wordpress.com/2018/01/08/a-late-replacement/

4  May More begins a hot new story

http://ifsexmatters.co.uk/eloise-skin/

5  Scanderella writes about the sexual tension of visiting an ex-lover…

http://www.scandarella.com/erotica/a-sanctioned-visit/

Sinful Sunday: Elsa and the Swan 2

God! That swan wants a cigarette, doesn’t he? 

Anyway, we were telling the story of Elsa of Brabant, in February of the year 932. 

Background

I mentioned that the King of Frankreich, Henry the Fowler, was in Brabant to persuade their cavalry to support him in the Battle of Merseburg: Frankreich (defending), versus the Magyars. That’s how we know when the story is set. The battle was in March 932, and it’d take an army, even with horses, about three weeks to get from Brabant to Merseburg.   

Elsa was accused of her brother’s murder, but was proclaimed innocent after a stranger arrived and won her case, in a trial by combat. He then offered to marry Elsa, and, starstruck, she accepted. 

Now read on.

Elsa’s story

The trouble is, this man that she’s called here, or created, insists that she not ask his name, or where he comes from. So she’s in love, and so is he, but he’s carrying on like a married man on Fetlife. 

Eventually, on their wedding night, Elsa can’t stand it any more. He tries to stop her, but she directly asks him who he is, and who are his forebears.

He is distraught. Once he is asked that, he’s not allowed to stay. He’s a bit like a creature from Faerie, immensely strong and powerful, but if you so much as nick their finger – or make any puncture – they collapse.

Elsa hears the call of the Swan that drew his boat. It’s coming to take her lover, her husband, away.

At the river, the knightly stranger explains that he is a knight of the Holy Grail, which is in the mountains of northern Spain. His name is Lohengrin, and he is the son of Parzifal, the ruler of the Grail kingdom.

Lohengrin is distraught as well. If she’d managed to hold on for a year, he’d have been able not only to stay but to tell her who he is. And she would have got her brother back.

Maybe I can do one thing, he says. He kneels down by the river and prays. The Swan transforms, losing its swan form, and turning back into her missing brother Gottfried!

He had been turned into a swan by the wife of Telramund, the knight who’d accused Elsa of murdering her brother. He was rescued by the Grail: if he spend a year serving the Grail, he’d have been able to return, in human form. But Lohengrin has used the last of his earthly powers to bring Gottfried back early. 

He, Lohengrin, was going to lead the cavalry into battle, but he can no longer do that. But, he says, Gottfried can.

But even though Elsa got her brother back, the Grail is forcing Lohengrin to return. He can’t stay. He steps into his boat, which speeds off, even without a swan to pull it. 

Elsa watches her lover, rescuer and husband disappear, and she cries out in agony. Then she faints, or dies, of her grief

What’s this story about?

In an odd way, it’s about adultery, or at least it exists because of adultery. Elsa and Gottfried’s family are real, and in 100 years or so Gottfried’s descendent, another Gottfried, would lead Christian forces in the First Crusade, and took back Jerusalem. 

But about this time there was an embarrassing break in the family line. They explained it by coming up with this story about swans. 

So Lohengrin, a figure out of myth, steps briefly into the real, historical world. And Gottfried, a figure out of history, steps briefly into the world of myth. 

Each, as they must, ultimately returns to the world, or realm of reality, that they came from. 

It’s also, in a way, about the weakness of the supernatural. It can seem strong and powerful, but it always shrivels and disappears if you look at it too closely. 

Fucking swans

That’s the end of the swan series. There’s much more to say (sexual customs involving humans fucking swans up the cloaca, for example) and many more stories, but all good series have to come to a

 

Don’t do that! 4 [The End]

Cassie put her finger on his nose. “I’m just saying,” she said, “if you want to spank some girl, you ask her, or you let her ask you. Because if she’s into it she probably will ask. One way or another. But remember there’s lots of people who aren’t into it. I just don’t want you to make an idiot of yourself.”

Gavan’s erection still existed, but in a pliable, squishy way. Cassie’s waggle had reminded him of things he’d rather be doing. “So, would you mind then, if I smacked your ass, oh, right about now, probably a little harder?

“Well, not too hard. But sure.”

Though Gavan’s cock had slowly shrunk during this conversation, he was still inside her, just. He reached down and smacked her, six times, slowly, with a lot of caressing and kneading that balled, muscled flesh.

Cassie began to move on him. He would be getting hard in those circumstances in any case. But while his hand on her ass, impacting her, wasn’t as incandescent as the desire he’d felt for Ana, he had to admit it was one of the reasons he was getting harder.

That complicates a lot of things, he thought, like life. Did this mean he’d have to choose his girlfriends by their spankability from now on? But he was ready to thrust hard into Cassie, who seemed happy about that, and he smacked her bottom again. It felt good.

For science! he thought, and then stopped thinking.

[The End]

Wicked Wednesday: The Kiss 3

So I was at Club Bento, with my slavegirl Arethusa, with whom I was madly, passionately, in love. I was holding a tiny platinum blonde Chinese girl who’d jumped up on me with her legs round my waist and, because she wasn’t taking much care while she rocked against me, I’d put my hands on her ass to support her. She’d realised by then that I hadn’t recognised her, and that seemed to be hilarious as well. She was still beaming at me.

I looked her. It was her eyes and her mouth that did it. I said, “Qing!”

She kissed me. “Where’ve you been, stranger?”

“I’ve been here. I kept trying to call you, at your house. And I kept getting through to your housemates. Who were grumpy as fuck. And I left messages. Did they get through?”

“Not to me. They were stupid bastards, those people I lived with. And they thought you were that other guy, your asshole friend. So they probably thought they were doing me a good… Anyway, that’s a pity, but… Here we are!”

Er, artist’s impression. Cash still had her knickers on, though tugged down considerably

She fell forward, and we kissed. Eventually, because it seemed like a good idea I pulled her tiny skirt up, and tugged her knickers as far down as they’d go, on a girl who was straddling me. That provided a space of bare bottom that was tempting in every possible way, and in easy reach. I spanked her, hard, six times, while she squealed and hung on.

It seemed like a good idea to set the mood. Before she’d been my possession, Arethusa had been in a relationship with a lucky guy and another girl, and she liked threesomes.

I hadn’t delivered one for us yet. But it seemed likely that this would work out.

Finally I dropped the girl to her feet. “How come you’re calling yourself Cash?”

Cash, as I was getting used to calling her, tugged at her skirt. I smacked her bottom again, and said, “Leave it.”

She dropped her hand, skirt still round her waist, half her bottom bare. “Nickname, darling. Too many people couldn’t pronounce Qing. So they started calling me K-Ching, like a cash register. Then I changed it to Cash. I liked it, so it’s my name.”

“I like it too. Cash, this is Arethusa.”

The two girls looked at each other. Cash pointed her head at me. “You’re with him?” 

Arethusa said, neutrally, “Yes. I’m his property.” 

So Cash hugged her, and said, “Cool! Lovely to meet you! How long have you been together?” 

“About a year. When did you..?” 

“When I was an accountancy student. We’d known each other for about an hour, and by then he’d tied me up, whipped me, fucked me, and then taken my anal, uh, girlhood. So it was just one night, but it was memorable.” 

Arethusa looked at me. Our first night had been roughly similar, except that she’d preserved her anal virginity for another month. I’d taken it with more ceremony than I’d allowed Qing. Arethusa said, “That’s Master, all right.” 

I looked at her. She smiled at me, thank fuck. I pointed at Cash. She nodded.

Strictly, we’d agreed that she was property, and it wasn’t her decision who came to bed with us, or what she did with her body. There was a piece of paper that said that, among other outrageous things, signed by both of us. In reality, of course, a slavegirl is the most wonderful person in the universe to her owner, and no master with a clue wants to make his girl unhappy. 

I said to Cash, “Do you have, um, an owner of any sort?” 

This doesn’t represent reality. It’s a pretty good indicator of what I was thinking, though

She was still looking at Arethusa. They’d reached some sort of understanding. But she shook her head. “I’m more of a top these days. So…” 

I considered that, disappointed for a second. On the other hand, Cash still hadn’t pulled her skirt down, after I’d told her not to. So I pulled her and Arethusa into a hug. And then, though I didn’t expect her to come to bed with us, I reeled in Delores as well. And we held each other, swaying together, and Arethusa and Cash kissed, and, because Delores didn’t kiss girls, I kissed her. 

It was one of the most blessed moments of my life. But I’m going to disappear from this story soon, for a while, anyway. 

[To be continued]

Note:

This is the sequel to a story I told a couple of years ago. You can find Qing’s and my first encounter, when she was a very different sort of girl, here. Or you can look for it, under its title, “Mouth to Mouth: Qing’s story”. 

 

 

Don’t do that again! 2

NOTE

This is Episode 2 of a short story. Well, it’s short by my standards: I expect it to take only three or four episodes. Episode 1 is here. Read it if you haven’t and you feel like it, then come back. 

Don’t Do That! 2

Gavain groaned. He had, indeed, spanked Cassie without her permission. He said, “I’m an idiot. I’m sorry. I mean, truly: I apologize.”

“God, you’re fish in a barrel. I was teasing you. You’re easy. Truth?”

“Ok.”

“It was mildly pleasant. It’s not one of my turn-ons, particularly, but I didn’t hate it. How, um, I suppose I should ask, how was it for you?”

“I’m not sure. I mean, your ass always feels good to me.” She looked irritated, so he corrected course.

“I don’t know,” he said. “When I had the thought about my, uh, client, I mean, when it occurred to me to spank her, I had a kind of flash, like a vision of what it’d be like. It was hot as fuck. I went, full on, this-is-awkward, unwanted erection. In about five seconds. Took ages to get it down again.”

“Did she notice?”

“Oh yeah. She laughed at me. A lot.”

“Oh, poor you.”

“God no. I was relieved. Could have been much worse.”

“I suppose. Anyway, what’s that got to do with how hot it was to spank me? Or not?”

“Because when I imagined it she was really into it. That’s what made it so hot.”

“So my reaction was… disappointing?” Cassie didn’t look sorry.

“I wasn’t sure if you hadn’t noticed, or you were putting up with it, or it was sort of okay but nothing special. So that wasn’t so hot.”

“On behalf of all womanhood, I apologize for not being a porn star. You’ll just have to put up with real girls.”

“You got a porn star’s ass. Very superior ass.”

“Huh.” But she waggled her ass, just the same.