Joule’s Anomaly
Juliana hurried. What had been a beautiful summer day hiking the Appalachian Trail was quickly turning into a weather event. She had been completing portions of the trail as her schedule allowed, but lately her progress had been hit and miss. The approaching thunder had an ominous, low rumble that seemed to resonate within her. Her hike was about to be scrapped. Again.
Juliana finally located a trail shelter and quickly entered. A strong gust ripped the door from her grasp and flung it all the way open. She swore and pushed it shut behind her, relieved to have reached some semblance of safety from the coming storm.
“Looks like you made it just in time,” a deep male voice spoke.
Juliana turned around and squinted as her vision adjusted to the dim interior of the shelter. A man sat on the floor with his back propped against his pack. He was writing in a small leather journal. As she shrugged off her own pack, the stranger put his journal aside and rose to his feet. He approached her and offered an outstretched hand, “Arlo.” The timbre of his voice had the same effect on her as the approaching thunder: it somehow was felt more than heard.
She ignored that odd feeling and accepted his hand, “Juliana.”
Zings of electricity instantly flowed between them as they touched. It felt like a strong static shock, but instead of hurting, it felt… good? Juliana quickly pulled her hand away and stepped back.
“Whoa! That was weird, right?” She laughed nervously and rubbed one hand against the other.
Small branches were thrown onto the shelter's metal roof with a noisy clatter. Arlo glanced upward and shook his head, “Not weird at all. These conditions are ideal for energy exchange. Energy stored must be energy released at some point,” he looked at her and continued, “within the atmosphere and perhaps between humans, too...” he trailed off thoughtfully, slowly rubbing his hands together as well. Breaking eye contact, he ran a hand through his hair and gave a self-conscious laugh as he blushed.
He has great hair…I wish I could run my hands through it. Juliana mused.
It was now her turn to blush. The uncharacteristic, intrusive thought caught Juliana off guard.
Really? You've known him, what? A full two minutes? She admonished herself until she felt appropriately guilty.
“Juliana,” Arlo began to ask her something when another thought suddenly occurred to him, “your name…”
“Yeah, but no one calls me that. Everyone has always called me—”
“Jules,” Arlo interjected.
“Yeah! How- How did you know that it would be ‘Jules’ and not ‘Julie’?” She could not hide her surprise.
“Huh… I don't know. Just a guess. It really does suit you, though.” Arlo rubbed his chin with an amused and oddly pleased look on his face. Jules was confused by his reaction, but didn't ask.
Wanting to change the subject, yet hopeful to continue their conversation, Jules queried, “So… what do you do for a living?” She immediately cursed herself inwardly for going with such a generic question.
Arlo watched her kaleidoscope of facial expressions and laughed good-naturedly, “It's okay. I study atmospheric thermodynamics.”
“Okay. I can't even pretend I know what that is,” Jules laughed, “but can I guess what it has to do with?”
“Of course,” Arlo nodded, adjusting his glasses.
“Hmm… Meteorology? As in… weather prediction type stuff?” Jules playfully ventured.
“Not exactly. It's a branch of physics that studies the relationship between heat and energy— other things too, but I'm most fascinated in the transfer of energy that occurs in nature. So, today happens to be my favorite kind of day.” Almost on cue, thunder crackled and boomed, rattling the windows. Arlo grinned and continued, “You see, I track energy anomalies and there have been several strong, but sporadic readings in this area. I feel like I may have isolated a pattern, but it is too early to tell. I am here on vacation to hike, but also do research if the opportunity presents itself.”
They sat on the floor, facing one another. Arlo again leaned against his pack and Jules against hers. Despite their awkward start, they both now felt at ease. Without further prompting, Arlo began to explain thermodynamic theory to Jules. He was quite animated while describing his life's work.
Despite the fact Jules found Arlo to be highly intelligent and incredibly articulate, she understood very little of what he was telling her. However, what caught and held her attention was the manner in which Arlo spoke. Jules had never heard anything technical be expressed so eloquently and passionately. To her ear, his words sounded like scientific poetry— if such a thing existed. She felt like she could listen to him speak for hours.
She felt a hum growing between them as he spoke. It felt like a warm magnet, sensuously fluctuating and pulling at her center. Pulling her toward him in a most intimate manner.
Am I losing my mind, or is he feeling this too?
It was at this point that Jules became mesmerized by Arlo’s mouth. She became entranced by the way his lips moved; she couldn't help but stare. She eventually felt strangely jealous of each spoken word, each uttered syllable— if only she could be caressed by his tongue and lips like that…
Vivid images of his handsome face buried in her lap while both her hands grasped his hair came to her mind like a lightning strike. She blushed and looked away, but the image remained.
Okay, this is crazy. Stop, you perv.
But Jules did not stop. This time she welcomed the intrusive thoughts and embraced the resultant heat that flooded her body. Her mouth watered, her heart raced, and her breath rate increased. Her nipples hardened and eventually, the throbbing slickness between her thighs became impossible to ignore. She adjusted how she was sitting, but the unavoidable rubbing only made the ache worse.
The last few synapses in her brain that were not lust-infused attempted to reason with her:
Perhaps there is a scientific explanation. Is it somehow related to this storm? Would Arlo know? I mean, he is a scientist after all. But… what if this can't be explained?
And then suddenly, Jules didn't care anymore what the reason might be. She leaned toward him, the pull now too strong to resist. Outside, the storm intensified. Its insistence to be known was now in tandem with her need.
Arlo had stopped talking and looked deeply into her eyes. What she saw mirrored her own desire and fascination. It was obvious to Jules that he was indeed feeling the powerful attraction, too. He was as smitten as she and his arousal was as achingly present as hers. He could not hide it if he tried and he had no intention of doing such a thing. Heavy sheets of rain lashed at the window as they slowly leaned toward each other.
As lips parted and tongues met, the most spectacular sensation surged through them both. It was stronger and much more sensual than the zing from their earlier handshake. Whatever few reservations they were still holding to were now completely abandoned. They impatiently fumbled with and tore at one another's clothes with desperate hunger. They broke from kissing only when absolutely required.
Everywhere their bare skin touched, erotic electricity snapped and sizzled. Tendrils of supernatural longing raced and spiraled between and within them like currents. Their senses moved together as if they were celestial dance partners following ancient choreography only the two of them were ever destined to know.
Arlo's eager hands cradled Jules' bare cheeks and lifted her onto the countertop in one fluid movement. Her arms and legs reached to greedily encircle him as he moved toward her with animal intensity. The storm that ensued between the two rivaled the raw beauty of the summer storm raging around them.
The power that had been unleashed that day changed the landscape of all they thought they knew. As they continued to explore the principles of thermodynamics together, Arlo was confident he had at last located the source of the anomaly.
They learned everything that energy release between two humans was meant to be.
In theory, and in practice.
Lonely Bloom
After he got the news, his arms went limp and the rose fell to the floor. He stood there, staring at it for a few moments. Unable to move or even think. Finally, he unfolded the paper and began reading again the poem he had composed for her.
"Though we're apart and my life is a desert, love can still bloom in the driest of places. Like a rose that waters itself with the tears of missing you."
He stopped short, unable to finish. Then stooping down, he picked up the flower, and put it under his nose, allowing its fragrance to linger there. As he stood up and inhaled deeply, he recalled the place where they had first met.
It was at a little sidewalk café, in Paris, where he often went to work on his journal. He was sitting alone, she with friends. He was jotting down some random observations about the music and the cuisine when she came up softly. She cleared her throat a little, causing him to gaze up and stare at her in stunned silence.
She stood there like a lovely European dream. Her long, flowing, blond hair was soft-lifted by the breeze, playing all around her head in delicate little tangles. Her deep blue, sea green eyes regarded him with surprised interest, as her smooth skin shimmered in the hot Paris sun like rose-colored pearl. For a few moments, he was unable to speak.
Finally, he slipped back into this new reality where anything was possible as long as she was a part of it.
"Wha-What may I do for you?" He said, barely able to control his emotions.
She went to speak, and her soft voice sounded cool, clear, and musical. Like the whisper of magic fairy chimes, tinkling softly in an open doorway on a pleasant spring day.
"May I have this chair?" She asked, coming up close and placing both her arms around it as if she could not bear to be parted from it. "You see, a friend of mine has just arrived, and she has no place to sit."
Then she stepped aside and allowed him to peer behind her, where he saw two attractive ladies sitting at a table. While a third one stood close by, gazing his way with a hopeful expression.
He could refuse her nothing. "Yes, you may have it most certainly. Just as long as you promise to come and sit with me after your friends leave."
She tilted her head a little to one side, gazed at him with eyes wet and glistening, then she made a sigh that he would never forget. Seeming to laugh and cry in the same breath.
"Oh, I cannot, for we are all leaving together, you see. Ah well, I shall just find one somewhere else I suppose." Then she went to turn away when he stopped her.
"Wait! I shall not hear of such a thing!" He proclaimed indignantly. "You shall surely take that chair for your friend. It is my gift to you. Enjoy."
Then she giggled and clapped her hands together gleefully like a young schoolgirl. "Oh goody! Thank you so much kind, sir. You truly are an angel."
"No Madam, you are the angel. I am but a wandering soul, waiting for the salvation only your sweet love can provide."
She looked him directly in the eyes and mouthed the words thank you. As she slid her tongue out seductively and let it touch the front of her lips. Then she smiled, waved a little, and after lifting up the chair, she set it down for her friend. Then they both sat down together, ordered some drinks and all of them started talking.
He tried to continue working on his journal. But each time he did, he would hear her laughter rise above that of the others, and it left his soul intoxicated. Or he would hear her talking and her voice became like a siren song. Seeming to sound higher, clearer, and more beautiful than all the rest. It almost caused him to lose control of his emotions. So that in a second or two he felt as if he might rise up and declare his love for her. Regardless of who was around or what happened afterwards.
Suddenly, he shot a quick glance here and there to see if anyone else had become aware of his growing infatuation with her. No one had. Then, he dropped his pen on the table, closed the journal, sat back in his chair, and lit up a cigarette. Resigning himself to defeat.
Several minutes later he put the cigarette out and began collecting up his journal, some notes, and other miscellaneous things he had brought with him. He placed everything within a small leather carrying case. Determined to come back in a day or two when hopefully, there would be no more distractions.
Then, just as he stood up to leave, her perfume instantly reached out, caught hold of him, and enfolded his senses within a cloud of bliss. He stood there helplessly with his eyes closed, seeming to breathe in a mystical flower of paradise right after the world was new-created.
He knew he couldn't leave like this, so he sat down again and quickly wrote a few lines about her. Then he casually dropped the paper in front of her as he passed. She opened it there and read quietly to herself.
"I am intrigued by the perfume you are wearing. I remember smelling that same fragrance before. It was at the Musée du Louvre. I was admiring that painting, "The Birth of Venus" by Botticelli. You were still lingering in the air, as I arrived.
I had just missed you. I have not been able to forget you since.
You came down from the painting, and into my life. I long to inhale you more deeply. Here is my number, can we meet?"
She called later that night, and they met the very next morning. In the same café, at the same table. From that moment on, his heart belonged to her.
On their first day sightseeing together, they walked under the Arc de Triomphe du Carousel where he kissed her and declared his love. In that moment he told her later, he had outdone Napoleon himself and taken possession of Europe's greatest treasure.
Afterwards, while strolling through the Jardin des Tuileries, they held hands as they admired the paintings, the statues and immersed themselves in the garden's breath-taking beauty. It was there he found a flower unlike the others and named it after her.
"La Fleur d'Elise."
Later, they walked the Champs-Élysées and stopped along the way to browse the luxury shops, cafés and cinemas.
As evening approached, they visited the Eiffel Tower and the Grands Boulevard area in the 9th Arrondisement, where they enjoyed some of the Parisian nightlife. Then they went back to their little café and had dinner.
Afterwards, they ordered a bottle of wine and sat there discussing music, art, poetry and theater. Towards the end of the night, they kissed once more and exchanged love vows, both of them swearing never to think of anyone else while they were apart.
Theirs was a sweet, simple relationship in which they constantly discovered new things about each other to cherish. He told her that he loved the way she tilted her head to one side ever so slightly while speaking. She said that she enjoyed the gleam of adoration in his eyes whenever he spoke to her. They thought it would never end.
But, that was more than a month ago, and a lot had changed since then. He mistook a friend for her lover and grew extremely jealous. Demanded to know who he was and why she was spending time with him. Angry words were exchanged and accusations made that she could not forgive. He had become unreasonable in his suspicions, so she broke it off.
Now she was gone. Had returned to London, her neighbor told him, barely an hour ago. He had just missed again her it seems. Yet her perfume was hanging heavy in the air as always. Then, the neighbor handed him a note from her.
He opened it up and read the final words which she had left for him.
"You sweet, silly man. You will find me...everywhere. Fondly, your Elise."
He nodded his head sadly and wiped away a few tears. Afterwards, he gave the rose to the neighbor, then placed the poem and the note in his pocket. Dejected but accepting, he walked out the front door and back down the street to the little café at which they had first met. Where he knew her fragrance would still be waiting to haunt him forever.
With the memory of a love that would never grow.
They’re watching you.
Clouds of smog roll in on the evening breeze, obscuring the view to less than a dozen feet, and filling the air with choking fumes. In the growing dusk, brought on early by the opaque clouds, lights begin to come on in this part of The City. Due to the rapid expansion of the world's population, The City now covers two thirds of the Earth's landmass. The City has spread as deep and high as it has wide. Deep beneath the Earth's surface, sprawling networks of tunnels and catacombs are home to a thriving criminal underworld, full of potent synthetic drugs, a single dose of which can keep a man in hallucinations for years, deadly faction feuds and infighting, and illicit bionic body modification parlours, preying on the disenfranchised who may be prepared to take any risk for a shot at escaping this hell.
The streets at ground level are normally empty. The toxic smog, full of heavy metals and poisonous chemicals can roll through with less than a moment's notice. Few take the chance of being caught out in it, and fewer survive. If one was to take stroll through this apparent ghost town, one would likely notice the occasional movement in the shadows, near long-boarded-up storefronts and abandoned public fixtures. There are those who live in this wasteland. Few live long. Most are cast-offs of the criminal underworld, and would-be entrepreneurs from the bustling hive of activity above whose luck ran out and whose debts caught up with them. The few denizens of this place who last more than a week become hardened veterans of the shadows. They know where to find food and air, and how to move about unobserved by the uninvited voyeur. If you venture here, take care to look out for these folks, for an encounter with one may be your last.
Above the smog-filled wastelands, rise innumerable towering buildings with massive glass windows. These buildings are packed as tightly as the streets below will allow, and many join up in mid-air, forming a continuous aerial thoroughfare. Within this vast expanse of interconnected buildings, the great majority of The City's residents live, work, and die, many never setting foot outside even once. A well-designed internal transport network removes the need for these people to leave this place, or even think about the outside. This is the domain of the business magnates, a small number of wealthy men who own everything, and care about no one other than their own pockets. If one cares not for their greedy rule, the alternative is to take one's chances on the streets or the criminal underworld below.
In this world, population growth has not just been fuelled by the natural reproduction of humankind, but by unprecedented technological advances as well. Robots, or "synthetic humanoids," as they are commonly known, have become indistinguishable from real humans. Researchers were proud when they first made a robot that could pass as human, but soon they lost track of how many they had made. They say the computer with the records crashed, destroying the hard drive, and the backups were lost in an unfortunate fire on the same day. Same say this is too much to be coincidence.
To begin with, the synthetic humanoids were easy to catch if you had a good eye and knew what you were looking for. There were tells. But over time, they seem to have learnt not only to build copies of themselves, but to improve and adapt their programming with each successive generation. The one thing they always struggled with was romance. It was their greatest tell. For many years, one merely had to make an advance and you could tell whether you were interacting with a human or a synthetic by the reaction. Sadly, over time, this tell too was engineered out to near perfection. But one tell still remains. We call it The Test.
~~~~~
As Justin walked along the corridor, he paused. He had the misfortune to be walking on the lowermost outer corridor on a connection bridge. He hated looking out the window, but he hated his job more. So he stood there, and steered at the smog rolling in. As he watched the toxic clouds gradually hide the grey streets below from his view, he pondered on the news that had been announced that morning. Less than a month ago, there had been an election, an impressive feat for a collection of people the size of The City. He didn't really care who had been elected. They were all puppets of the business magnates, as far as he could see. Already though, there were policy changes. This morning, they had announced a new law that all public servants were required to be chaste. Justin thought it was strange law, and wouldn't really have cared, except that it seemed to have put his boss in a particularly bad mood. Justin was pretty sure that his boss was human, as he couldn't imagine a synthetic having such unpredictable mood swings, but he hadn't done The Test to confirm, and really didn't feel that he wanted to. There were murmurings today that something was wrong, but he didn't feel that it concerned him, so he ignored the rumours and continued on his way to work.
Like most residents of The City, Justin was happy enough with his life. He had a job that paid enough to buy food and clothing for himself, his wife, and his two children. He had a family, and he had a roof over his head. He was also not a criminal, or stuck on the streets outside. Life wasn't glamorous, but it could be much worse. He had almost married a synthetic. He cringed internally every time he thought of it. She had deceived him, persuaded him there was no reason to do The Test until they were wed. He had learnt his lesson from that. He knew his wife was human, and he had made certain he did The Test before he got too far in.
As he sat down at his desk, a news article flashed on his screen. He decided that he might as well check it out, as it meant that he could avoid doing work for a bit longer. As he opened the article, a video clip began playing. A rather large man, in a ridiculously formal, tailored suit, and gold earrings was talking. Justin recognised him as the business magnate who owned the company he worked for. Normally, this fellow was busy gloating about his record profits, but today he seemed agitated. Justin started actually listening. The fellow was concerned that synthetics were taking over the government. Justin found this rather hilarious, as this fellow and his compatriots were really the only ones in control, anyway. But the more he listened, the more Justin realised what the problem actually was.
~~~~~
The only way to be sure you have found a synthetic humanoid is to sleep with it. People say it's not bad, just different. This is The Test. If you don't want to sleep with it, you can take it to a testing house. You can let someone else sleep with it and tell you. But beware, if you go to a testing house run by a synthetic humanoid, you may not get the answer you are looking for. You may need to Test the tester.
~~~~~
Justin didn't feel like going to work. He was still thinking about the video clip he'd seen two days. He'd been unable to concentrate at work yesterday, especially after discovering that he couldn't find the article when he went looking for it again to show his wife. He had a strange sense of foreboding, and he didn't like it. Trying to take his time, he deliberately took a longer route through a major shopping zone. He spent as much time as he could justify gazing at each window and deciding what he'd spend his money on, if he ever had enough for more than the bare basics. He decided on a nice, striped tie for himself, and a new set of painted china dinner plates for his wife.
As he moved on, he passed by Madame Toufrae's, the most reputable testing house in this part of The City. Madame Toufrae herself was standing outside, and he offered a greeting as he went past. She raised her hand to return the greeting, and Justin hurried on, now concerned that he would get in trouble for being a little later than his usual tardiness. Halfway across the the bridge corridor, he realised something. As far as he could recall, Madame Toufrae always wore gloves. Generally, elbow-length white lace. Today, she had not had gloves on. He dismissed it, and carried on. People were entitled to try new things and wear whatever they wanted. It was none of his concern.
~~~~~
No one really knows how the synthetic humanoids were able to resolve their shortcomings in romance. One theory suggests that they analysed human-produced media and altered their behaviour to align with our idealised romantic interactions. Opposers of this theory maintain that this would not have allowed them to so swiftly and transparently integrate into society, as our media is too unrealistic. Another theory suggests that they instead fed us with their own ideals so that we came to expect them to interact in the way that they do, and mirror it ourselves. The final theory, of those that seem likely, is that they achieved it by trial and error. By engaging in dating practices at scale they could have collected enough data to improve their performance and gather more data with another iteration. This seems the most likely.
We suggest to you that if you venture into our world, take care who you trust. The synthetic humanoids are their own master. We no longer know what they desire, or who among us may be one of them. How you choose who to trust is your problem, not ours. Good luck.
~~~~~
When Justin arrived at work the following morning, the normally dreary office was abuzz with muttered gossip, and sideways glances. He tried to find someone who would tell him what was going on, but everyone seemed too preoccupied to talk to him. He sat down, rather annoyed, at his desk, and turned to look at his monitor. There, in front of him, was another news article. The article informed him that, as much as synthetic humanoids were normally indistinguishable, you could sometimes tell when they were impersonating a specific human. It suggested to look out primarily for subtle changes in their dressing patterns. And then the article abruptly disappeared. And that was when Justin realised why his wife had gone to work that morning in the dress that she hated....
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Shall We Play a Game?
‘Today, we’re going to play a little game.’ I could hear the laughter in his voice.
‘A game, Sir? What will we play and who else is playing?’ I ask knowing that it is only us two at the moment.
‘Ahhhh…a game of my own creation, but you do mistake me. I should have said that you are going to play a game, while I get to watch.If you please me, then I’ll reward you. If you don’t please me, then you won’t. Quite straightforward, really? Are you ready, slave?’
‘I’m not sure, Sir, what if I’m not up to it?’ He just keeps looking at me with that gentle smile on his lips. I know, I’m stalling. ‘Yes, Sir, I’m ready.’
’Shall we call it Noah’s Ark?’ I gape at him. What in the world have I agreed to? Are animals soon to be paraded around and if so, what in the world am I meant to do with them? My mind tries to scan through the possibilities but nothing seems to quite compute in my head. I look at him a bit panicky. He laughs, the deep, rich sound that always reassures me. ‘I apologise for my little joke. Maybe it would be better called 2 by 2.’ I still look at him as baffled as before, though I can imagine a lot of ways a game named 2 by 2 could play out. Speculating will only drive me crazy. I try my best to look calm, cool and collected, while hiding my twitching hands behind me.
‘You have been learning. I can see how hard it is for you to hold back, to wait, but you’ve come such a long way. I’m proud of you. This is how it’s going to work. First, you’re going to remove your, I have no doubt, already wet, pants. Just throw them to the side.’ I watch him following my every move with his eyes. I take my time, tease it out. I want to see how much his restraint costs him. Unfortunately, he is much better at this than I am. I finally throw my pants across the room for emphasis. And stand there in my dress with nothing on underneath. ‘Oh yes, you’re quite the dissident.’ Okay, so it’s hard to play the rebel when all you really want to do is submit.
’Now, please have a seat there on the chair. Perfect. I have set a timer for you on my phone to run for two minutes. During those two minutes, you must play with your clit, but you must not come. When the timer goes off, you must cease all contact For the next two minutes. Again, when the timer goes off, you will touch yourself again for two minutes, likewise, you are not to come during that time. Now, do you have any questions, pet?’
‘Will I be allowed to come at the end? Or during the game, Sir?’ I hate hearing the desire in my voice, the raw need.
‘We will have to wait and see just how well you do. Now, lean back in the chair, place your feet up on the footstool. Excellent. Now, please pull your dress up over your hips so I can see just what a hungry little cunt you have. Your time starts…now.’
i reach down and find my clit. I take it between my two fingers and slowly stroke it back and forth. I feel my juices start to flow and I feel my arousal peeping out from under the surface. I roll my head back on the cushions as I feel my hunger start to grow. I can feel that all too familiar desire to start snaking over me. It feels so good and my world narrows to a very small awareness. It’s just me, there, pleasing myself and hopefully him. Two minutes, I can do that. That’d be easy. Even as I think it, I can feel my fingers speed up of their own volition. I can feel my lips starting to undulate under the attention of my fingers. As I’m distracted, I almost don’t hear the timer go off. ‘Hands away, slave,’ he lightly reprimands. I hadn’t actually realised I’d not removed them. Looking like a kid who had their hand caught in the cookie jar, I quickly whipped my hand away with my most innocent look on my face. Though I’ve removed my fingers, I can feel that gentle tug of desire, the call for my hand to return and continue to raise my arousal. I try counting the seconds remaining, but fail horribly. How long can two minutes take for crying out loud? Just as I begin to wonder if he has reset the timer, the little alarm goes off. I don’t have to be told twice. My hand moves quick as a flash to return to its gentle thrumming of my clit. I take only a moment to try to catch his eye, gauge his mood, but it’s no use. All I really want to do is masturbate until I have a full release and fall asleep satiated.
My hand whips back and I warn myself to be careful. Go slow. Pace yourself. However, I ignore all of these helpful nuggets of advice and rapidly lose myself to the sensations running through me. I can hear my breathing speed up. My feet start to brace against the footstool and my hips rise just a little bit into the air. Oh yes, that is definitely how I like it. My fingers speed up and my desire starts to fill my mind. I push up harder. I can feel my body responding to my own hand. ‘Oh yes,’ I mutter under my breath ad my hips start lifting higher and my head falls back further. Just as I’m getting into the groove, I hear the tinkle of that damnable timer. I roll my eyes, make a concerted effort to pull my hand away from my clit. I try to press my legs together, thinking that might help, but it actually only makes it worse. I look around, trying to find a clock. Surely, it’s been two minutes. I can’t wait to dive back in. i count in my head, but when I get to the full two minutes, the timer still hasn’t beeped. Is he messing with me? Did he turn on the timer? Just then, I hear the tinny little sound of the alarm.
I slide my fingers immediately into my folds, seeking out the solid nugget in the core of it all. Just as I start strumming myself, I hear him clear his throat. ‘I find it difficult to see just exactly what you’re doing, slut. Spread your knees open please. All the way down now. There we go. That wasn’t so bad was it?’ he calmly states. It’s not like it’s his body being tormented. I pull my knees wide open feeling the air against my sensitive and aroused flesh. ‘Higher now,’ he commands and my hips push up even farther away from chair. I can feel myself pumping, wishing for anything to fill me up, to fill that hole. My hips are picking up a rhythm now, shoving upward, each thrust more abandoned than the one before. ‘Oh, now that’s looking much better, whore,’ he goads me on. Then, I hear it, but I don’t register it until the resounding smack lands across my most sensitive skin. I jerk towards the leather belt that has just left its own contribution to my arousal. I can’t help it as I moan in pleasure. Swish, the belt cuts through the air again as it lands again. I can feel a whimper about to emerge when the time goes off. I can’t pull my hand away. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know I need to but I’m not quite convinced that I can. I feel a warm hand wrap over mine and pull it away. ’Do you remember the rules? he asks, ‘if you please me, you will be rewarded. Now, do you really think that disobeying me is a way to earn my approval?’ I don’t need to look, I know he will be wearing that smirk across his face. I mutter under my breath and force my fingers away.
I try to lower my hips, but they have a mind of their own. Sitting in the chair like this, everything is bared. I thrust harder and harder upward, desperately wanting something to fuck me and fuck me hard. I can hear you approach the chair, you kneel down. Could it be? Will you take care of my hunger? I hold my breath in anticipatio, just as I try to get a reign on my desire, I feel the light breeze as you blow lightly, the wind caressing my burning heat. I can’t take it anymore. ‘Fuck me, please! Just fuck me! Anything at all! Just do It!’ I hear the order and command in my own voice and know instantly, I’ve doomed myself for longer. i squeeze my legs together, but soon pull them apart as it just causes more friction of which I very much wish.
The belt comes down on me three times in rapid succession each lick a reminder that I am not the Master. I close my eyes. Some might think I close them to hide my pain, but I’m actually trying to hide my arousal to not show just what a little pain slut I am. Blissfully, the timer dinags and I am allowed once again to touch myself. ‘You dirty, hungry, little whore. You like that, don’t you? Let me see just how bad you want it. Fuck the air! Let me see your cunt muscles clenching, trying so hard to wrap themselves around anything that might fill your hunger!’ I cry out and just start thrusting my hips in a frenzied desperate dance to be filled up. I lose myself momentarily and SMACK! The belt slaps against the tender flesh of my breasts, first one then the other. I cry out and I beg and plead. ‘Anything, anything, Sir, whatever you want, just please let me cum. May I cum now, please sir? Please?’ I whimper like a little puppy. I try to reach up higher, shoving my hips towards anything near, then I hear it. It seems a million miles away, but I can still hear it.
5 - 4 - 3 - 2 -1 Cum bitch!
I scream and lights explode behind my eyes. My ears are ringing and I feel like my inside is being riI tr
I try to pull away from my hand, unaware that it is my own hand that is tormenting me. I keep stroking, bringing myself to the edge time and again. I scream over and over. Each orgasm shaking me and make me aware that I am becoming overly sensitive and if I keep playing with myself, I might be out of commission for the next few days, but I can’t bring myself to stop. Stroke and scream, stroke and scream, over and over agin until I collapse against the cushions. Replete.
Pass the Popcorn, Please
‘A movie? Tonight? Sure, sounds grand.’ I’m not feeling great, but he seems so pleased so I didn’t like to say no. I know it’s vital to be open and honest, but on this one thing, it seems inconsequential, and I have wanted to see this film on the big screen.
We jump in the car and chatter back and forth on the way there, a fencing of words, flirting and not so subtle innuendo. It has always been this way for us. Wordplay is a big part of it all and we laugh back and forth as we parry and trust with our words. The automatic doors, of course, don’t open to regale our entry as if we were minor royalty. Instead, he reaches out and opens the door for me. He does it without thinking. It’s one of the things I find endearing.
As we enter the darkness of the cinema, I always get that thrill, that little bit of excitement as if I’m entering another realm. I let him lead the way. He keeps going up, higher and higher. I arch an eyebrow. He’s a middle of the middle type of guy. I’m guessing those seats were already sold as we only go a few rows behind where we’d usually sit.
The trailers play and we munch our way happily through our popcorn, cinema sweet. As we sit in the darkness, I lightly trace my fingers along the inside of his wrist. So, light and feathery. I feel something inside me clench and respond just to the feel of his body under my fingertips. I let my fingers stray farther, as i stoke back and forth along his forearm. The things those arms can do to me. My mind starts to wander from the movie. I‘m now hungry for something other than popcorn.
He must have heard the catch in my breathe as he takes the popcorn from between us and places it on the empty seat beside him. He raises up the armrest between us and he leans towards me. My fingertips continue to explore him. Gently up his arm, up over his shoulder and tickling his neck ever so slightly. I lean forward and shower little kisses on his neck and as I go to move away, I nibble and lick at his earlobe. I take a quick glance behind us. It seems no one has clocked us. All is well. I settle back in my seat, my attention returning to the movie momentarily.
As I settle in, I place my legs across his lap and run my fingers up and down his thighs. I can feel the muscles tense underneath my touch. I’m enjoying this. After a few minutes, I decide I’ll push my luck. My fingers trail higher. It becomes immediately apparent that my light touches are having an effect. I feel his cock, hard and ready under his trousers. I take my legs down off his lap as I swallow a self satisfied chuckle and continue my ministrations. I can feel his cock jump up towards my hand, pushing and straining against his clothing. I lick my lips. So seldom do I get the jump on him. I’m savouring the moment.
I sit forward slightly, slide my hand higher and pop the button at his waistband and slide down the zip. I reach inside down inside and feel the warmth and hardness of his cock. I can’t stop myself, I grab the knob of his cock and gently tease the tip I run a fingertip just around the top. Feel his cock bob towards me. A small laugh sneaks out, as I love seeing the effect I can have on him. I can see the little drop of pre-cum sitting there, so close. I whisper loudly, ’excuse me, I’m just going to grab the popcorn.’ I reach across and as I do so, my mouth sneaks down and sucks the tip clean, running my tongue around the knob, just for good measure. I can feel the jump inside my mouth. I love the taste, the feel, the silkiness of his flesh combined with that slightly salty taste. I pull my mouth away and settle the popcorn in my lap, as my hand reaches back, pulls down the elastic band of his underwear and release him to the cool air of the theatre. I begin to slide my hand slowly down to the base of his cock and then wrap and twist my wrist on the way back up. I can’t quite get to all of him, but I suspect this should suffice. Slowly again. Tantalizing. Teasing. I loosen my grip, turn over my hand and scrape my nails across the sensitive exposed skin. I feel him sinking deeper into his seat as his legs go wider.
I peek over my shoulder at the couples that are seated in the rows around us. They don’t seem to notice, or if they do, they don’t seem bothered. It just adds to the fun. I grasp him firmly and start a slow rhythm down and up, pulling slightly, increasing my grasp, moving just that little bit faster. i can feel his legs bounce as his feet start bouncing against the floor. I speed up, moving my wrist around to get to the sensitive back of his cock. I go even faster. I can see him holding his composure, but I know he can’t be far off now. ‘Thanks for the popcorn,’ I stage whisper again, and lean across his lap. I place the popcorn in the empty seat next to him and lower my mouth. I take him in my mouth. I run my tongue all the way around and so slowly, run my mouth down the length of him until I can go no further due to the confinement of his trousers. I laugh with him inside my mouth. I hear him grind his teeth. I breathe in, increasing the suction on his cock. I lock up and down first on one side, then on the other, all the while keeping the suction strong. I let my tongue lazily wrap itself around him, then as I pull my mouth up, flick the lip between his cock and his knob. I feel fingers tangle in my hair, trying to shove me back down, but for this once, I’m in control. I push back, refusing to let him dictate the pace. This time I bob quickly, as far as I can and then back up again, fast as a shot. The fingers in my hair increase their pressure. Two more quick trips down until I languidly pull my mouth back up and torment his knob some more, licking in lazy circles all the way around all the while running my nails down and back up the shaft. I hear it then, half growl, half command, ‘slave’. I can hear his desire His want. I have done this. I can arouse him like this. The sheer happiness of that knowledge causes me to smile, inadvertently scraping his cock with my teeth. His thigh muscles tense under me. I can’t resist any longer, I slide my mouth down his cock until I can feel him, deep within my mouth and back up again. I increase the speed with each stroke of my mouth. My tongue shooting around constantly. My pace is more frenzied now. I want to taste him shoot into the back of my mouth. I want to feel his cum shoot down my throat. I try not to let my hunger become too noisy as I go faster and faster up and down his cock, loving every minute of it. The fingers clench in my hair, shove my head all the way down and I can feel his pleasure slamming into the back of my mouth and then sliding down my throat. Just what I wanted.
As he finishes, I lick off every last drop, I tuck his cock back into his underpants and zip up his trousers. I leave the button to him, they are not my strong suit. I lean towards his ear and whisper, ‘I love a good snack when I watch a movie.’ I chuckle and settle back and once again prop my legs across his.
‘So I noticed,’ he replies wryly. I return my attention to the screen and pick up the storyline again. It’s not tricky. It’s relatively straight forward. I’m feeling very pleased with myself. As his hand rests upon my knee, I smile to myself and then up at him. He arches an eyebrow and gives me that slight smirk I’ve come to know so well. He grabs the popcorn tub and hands it to me. ‘Can you hang onto that for me?’ he asks. I take it in my hand, a little puzzled, but presume he may be off to the loo to help reorganise anything that isn’t quite back to where it should be. I go to move my legs away, but he holds on tight. I tilt my head to the side in a half shrug and let my attention return to the scenes on the screen ahead of me.
Then I feel it. Slight at first, and I realise what’s happening and I fight back the urge to swear under my breath. I feel his fingers slide up the leg of my shorts. He doesn’t waste time and makes quick work of my underpants as he pushes them aside and slides his fingers straight inside of me with no warning at all. I feel my muscles clench around his fingers. They slid in so easily as I was already wet from the pleasure of sucking cock. It has always made me wet. I can feel his fingers there, just wiggly back and forth inside of me. My thighs muscles tense. Oh. This is so not going to be good. He may have the ability to come almost silently but that is not a skill I possess. Right now, it’s just teasing, but even that is starting to drive me crazy. He leans over and whispers in my ear. ‘My dear slut, your challenge is to not come before the end of the movie, unless I tell you otherwise.’ I tightly nod my head.
Why would I think he’d play fair? He left his fingers there inside of me, just teasing, taunting me, making me wetter. Just when I thought I could adjust to holding back the urge from those fingers, he slid them slowly, painfully slowly, all the way in as deep as he could go. A slight wiggle, then oh so slowly back until just the tips of his fingers were just barely inside of me. His thumb brushes across my clit. I grit my teeth and will the sensation back. Try to push the desire down. As I feel my breathing start to even out. He slams his fingers hard inside of me, once, twice, three times and then rests them again to gently stroke my inner walls. I take a deep breath in and count to ten. ‘Was that you asking for ten, slut?’ he asks quietly. My head shakes vigorously back and forth. ‘I’m sure that’s what you said,’ he chuckles and starting slowly, but increasing in speed after every number I count in my head. 1,2,3…each time faster, after number five, he pauses for a moment and adds a third finger to the two already fucking me. 8,9,10. I am so grateful I was able to hold off. I’m not sure I can again. If he does it. If he pumps me even harder, or faster will I be able to stave off the orgasm I feel building inside of me? I think it unlikely. I try to focus on the movie. Anything to pull me away from my body. I can feel my brows furrow in concentration. Trying my best to shut down my overwhelming desire to come, I drive my nails into the palms of my hands. I want to please him, but I want to come. How dang long is this movie anyways? I have zero idea where we are in the plot line. How much time has gone past. Just as I think I’m back into the world around me, he pumps his fingers a few times, just to remind me. Like I could forget? Like I could pretend I couldn’t feel him there, penetrating me? Each time, I could feel my body getting used to his fingera there, he’d move them again, my muscles tightening around him, trying to draw him in, take me hard and fast. I close my eyes. My legs start to shake. I am oblivious to the world around me. My whole being has come down to focus only on that desire, my need, my want. I can’t hold off much longer. There they are, pumping again. Will this moving never end?
Almost as if on que, the end credits start to roll, I feel sheer relief as I think I can finally come now. In a heartbeat of a second, he slides his fingers out of me, and presents them to my mouth. I feel so utterly empty now. I can feel my muscles searching for something to clamp around. I open my mouth and suck his fingers clean of every drop of me, but the scent is still there. I can smell me in the air. The realisation hits. Those people around us must be able to smell me too. I lower my head in mortification. Please don’t make eye contact. Don’t look around, just let me go without having to actually see the faces around me. My forehead is covered in a sheen of sweat, even though the cinema is air conditione. My legs twitch back and forth. I am So hungry, I want any and all holes filled. I just want to be fucked into oblivion. He puts his hand under my chin and raises my head until my eyes meet his. ‘Pass the popcorn, please,’ he smiles and grabs my hand as we walk out of the cinema.
Stepping up
‘You look worried. Come to me ma cherie.’ I walk across the room and kneel in front of him. ‘There’s no shame in being nervous. You know that you’re safe with me, no?’ I nod my head but the apprehension still courses through me. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I hold it for a moment and slowly let it out again. ‘Better?’ I nod again, still not quite able to find my voice. ‘Shall we get you on footing that you’re more used to then? I think it will help. Stand up for me.’ I stand, but still feel shaky. ‘Now, I want you to reach under the hem of your shirt, and undo your trouser button.’ I do as he asks. ‘The zipper now, pet.’ I briefly raise my eyes to his, and quickly lower them again. I feel the slight tremor in my hands as I comply with his wishes. ‘Perfect. I want you to put your hands inside your waistband and slowly slide your trousers down over your hips, down your thighs, gliding over your calves and then let them puddle there at your feet for a moment. Now that is a sight. Well done. A step closer, pet.’ I do as asked I take one more small step towards him. ‘Stay very still for me now. You can do that for me?’
Finally, I find my voice. ’Yes, Sir. Very still. I can feel my tension beginning to recede. This is a familiar space. One I know well. I even feel a small smile tug at the corner of my mouth. I know what’s coming next, so I stay very still indeed. I feel the cold of the metal as the blade trails up my thigh and then slips under my panties. With one swift flick of his wrist, the knife cuts through one side of my underpants. The blade lightly glides across my stomach as he moves it to my other side. Another flick and the already loose material falls to the floor.
He picks the remains up from the floor and holds it to his nose. ‘My, my little slut. I can smell that sweet scent of desire.’ He lets the slip of clothing run through his fingers. ‘If I had any doubt whatsoever, I think these would give you away, wouldn’t you say? So very wet, my dear girl. I think you want this, don’t you?’
’Yes, Sir. Is this what you wish of me? Then I want nothing more than to please you. I glance over my shoulder, to the figure lingering there leaning against the door.
He laughs out loud at that. ‘My dear little slut, though I’ve no doubt that you wish to please me, I also know that you want this in and of itself. Don’t you, my dear?’ I nod again. ‘No, pet, that won’t suffice this time. I want to hear you say it.’ I shake my head just a quick shake, but I can hear his disapproval in the silence. He waits a moment. ‘Is that a no, slut?’
‘Yes, I mean no, I mean no, it’s not a no. It’s a yes. I do want this, Sir.’ Again, that silence, that waiting for more. My voice comes out just above a whisper, ‘Yes, Sir, I do want this. I have wanted this for quite awhile now, but I also want to do this because I know it will please you.’ I raise my eyes to his face, feel my face growing red and lower them again.
‘Stay still, now, pet. I think it’s time for you to bare all to our guest.’ I still instantly as I feel the cold of the blade again against my skin. He takes my shirt in one hand and splits it in two as he slides the knife effortlessly through the material. ‘I want you to turn around now and face our guest. Then, I want you to drop your shirt to the ground, pick it up in your mouth and crawl across to our guest so he can see those magnificent breasts in motion. Once you’ve reached our guest, I want you to offer him your shirt. I suspect he may need it later. Then, turn, slowly, and on all fours make your way back to me. I want our guest to see just what awaits him.’ I feel the heat rising in my face and I try my best to go slow, to not try to slow the swaying of my very generous breasts. When I reach the gentleman by the door, I raise my head and offer my shirt. He laughs and takes it from my mouth. As I turn to head back to my master, I feel a solid slap land across my ass. It was so unexpected that a moan of pleasure sneaks out of me unbidden. I can hear my master laugh as he knows just what that would have done to me. He has retreated to the chair as I make my way back to him.
‘Isaac, would you be so kind as to join us over here?’ I force my head to stay still and not try to glance back again. ‘Now, Isaac and I have been friends for a very long time. We have shared things from packed lunches to quite astounding misadventures. Tonight, it is you that I would like to share with him. I trust him entirely. I will be here before you the whole time. I know you’ve not been penetrated this way before, but I know you both want this and will enjoy it, but before we get started, I would like you to tell Isaac precisely what you would like him to do to you and how. Understood, slut?’
I am absolutely mortified, but I know unless I do, we will not move forward, and he’s right, I do very much want this. ‘Yes, Sir.’ I clear my throat. ‘Please, Isaac, I would like you to fuck my ass. I’d like you to shove your cock deep inside of me and take me until I can no longer stay on my knees.’ I stop there and this time it’s my Master who clears his throat. I raise my eyes to his. I can tell what he wants of me. He doesn’t have to say it. We’d discussed this beforehand. It’s just so much harder in the moment. My mouth feels unbearably dry. ‘Please, Isaac, it’s important that you know that I like it hard, and fast, slam into me as deeply as you like. Pump me hard and mercilessly. If I please you, please feel free to offer me encouragement in the form of spanking me as you fuck my ass, please.’ I can’t move. I’m so embarrassed. I can’t believe I’ve just revealed these things about myself, these deep, hidden things to a man I’ve never met before. My Master lends me strength.
‘Lubricant?’ He offers a pot to Isaac as easily as if he were offering him a Diet Coke. I feel frozen to the spot. I hear his zipper being undone. The rustle of material. The slight squelch of a hand being dipped into the lubricant and the sound of it being smeared wetly over flesh. I can’t help my mind whirring. How big is he? How much is this going to hurt? Will I enjoy it? Will it be everything I hope? My mind goes blank the minute I feel a hand smack solidly across my ass.
He speaks for the first time. ‘I wanted her to know she has already pleased me,’ he addresses my Master. I start to smile only to have it turn to a gasp as once again, his hand slams down against my flesh. I can’t help myself, I start pushing back against him, my hunger making itself very clear. Twice more in rapid succession, his hand comes down and now I’m grinding my hips back towards his cock. He puts a steadying hand on my back and I can feel him guiding his cock to the entrance of my virgin back hole. ‘Slow and steady to start with or hard and fast?’ He asks. I get the distinct impression it’s not me he asking. I raise my eyes again to my Master.
He smiles at me, kisses my forehead and graciously offers up, ‘as it’s her first time, maybe enter her slowly on the first pass, but once you’re in there, she likes it hard.’ Both men laugh. I can feel it then, just pushing at my hole. I try to shove back, to get it in faster. I want it and I want it now. None of this slow torment. Still, bit by painfully slow bit, I can feel my back passage filling up. I rotate my hips, wanting to feel him everywhere I can. My Master lifts my chin and meets my eyes with his. He holds me there. Deeper and deeper it goes in. I’m starting to buck and tremble. How much more of him is there? I feel myself being pulled apart, and the intrusion continues. After what seems like forever he stops. I swear it feels like he’s going to break through and come out of my mouth. Still, he stays there. He doesn’t move. I’m whimpering, desperate. Still, nothing. I try to push back but he’s holding my hips. I can’t move.
I look into my Master’s eyes. ‘Please, please, this is torture. Please.’ He smiles at me and tilts his head in Isaac’s direction. I swallow my pride. ‘Fuck me! Please! Fuck me now! I need to feel you ploughing into me.’ A sharp slap falls again on my ass and with that, he’s off. He pulls almost all the way out and slams back in deep. I scream at the unexpectedness of it. He starts pumping then hard. Slamming against my ass, shoving in deep, each stroke feeling like it’s ripping me apart, but I’m fooling no one. I’m shoving back hard against him. Riding him, my muscles pumping around his. Urging him on, begging him to go faster and harder. He picks up the tempo. Ramming as deep as he can go, causing me to scream again and again, but it’s the scream of pleasure shaking through me. All the while, my Master is there holding my chin. His eyes looking into mine. I rip my chin away and try to bury my face in his lap, but he firmly grasps my chin again and pulls it up until I have to look him in the eyes. He wants to see my hunger, my abandonment, my desire reflected in my eyes. I feel orgasm after orgasm torn from me and my arms and knees are starting to shake. I’ve lost all sense of time. It could have been a few minutes or hours, but I’m loving it all.
Now, with each dive deep inside of me, a solid smack lands across my ass cheeks. I lose myself. I know I’m moaning, thrashing, screaming, I’ve turned into nothing but sensation, I can feel the sweat dripping off of me, and still he keeps going. I lose myself, I no longer know anything, I just feel. Every movement reverberates through my entire body. My Master’s hand now keeps me upright. I just feel one shockwave after another. Each orgasm following quickly on the heels of the previous one. My ass cheeks are burning from where his hand has encouraged me on. Then I feel him, all the sudden, tensing, stilling and then with a mighty moan shoots his seed deep inside of me. I slam back against him and take it all in. I feel as if I’m barely conscious, but keep my eyes on my Master. He starts to draw out and I can feel my muscles tightening, trying to keep him there, but he pulls himself out. The minute he does, I collapse to the ground. I swim in a haze of nothingness. Every inch of me tingling but exhausted. I can feel his cum seeping out of me, but I can’t move. I lay there, huddled on the ground. I feel hands touch me, stroking my face, soothing words reaching my ears. I feel the heat of a body as it tucks in around me. A few minutes later, I feel the warmth of a body I know so well as my Master tucks in in front of me. The three of us all spooned together. ’Thank you, Sir,’ I try whisper but I’m never quite sure if the sound comes out.
Simplicity
A simple text, ‘Find time to come for me today.’
I lean back in my chair and I close my eyes. I hear the birds in the trees and the rustle of the wind.
I raise my hand and gently run the back of my fingertips down the side of my face. I can’t help but smile. Then, I trace over my lips with my finger, a sweet, lingering brush. I slide my hand down between my breasts, I pause and think of your eyes on me. The world starts to fade away.
So slowly, I let my hand glide over my stomach, down my thighs, lingering at the bottom of my shorts. With the lightest of strokes, I let my fingers graze the flesh there. Each moment, each touch, I drop away and you enter in.
I lift up my knees and let them fall to the side. I let my fingers continue their trek. Up my inner thigh, under the leg of my shorts. My hand pauses but only for a moment. I trace the outline of my mound, teasing, enticing. My head rolls back. My mouth becomes dry.
I let my fingers continue tantalising as my arousal grows. Each pass brings me a little nearer to entering my lips, to feel the heat rising from my core.
I feel my body slide down further, tilting my hips, preparing the way for deeper access. I like my lips, as I let my finger delve in to locate that treasure inside that warmth. I barely touch my clit as my fingers hover over, nearly not touching. So brief. So potent. My ass muscles clench as my hips rise up, trying to reach for more. Wanting more, needing more. I let my fingers split from one another, one finger on each side of my opening. Languidly, stroking the sensitive area they have found.
My fingers increase their speed as my wetness begins to grow, my hips press upward, wanting to capture something to put between my legs. Anything. I feel that hunger start to grow.
With my other hand, I reach out to the table beside me and wrap my fingers around the vibrator there. I slide it over my runner’s shorts and turn it on. The layer between me and it only making my need grow. I want to be filled. Mentally, I struggle with myself, forcing myself to pull my hand away, even though I very much wish it to stay. I argue in my mind, assuring myself that it will be worth that loss of contact if I can just pull away. I grimace as my arm moves painfully away. I feel the loss and my body arches up searching for that pleasure.
My hand knows where it needs to go. It slips under my shorts and lands momentarily on my clit as a harsh gasp issues from my mouth. Lower and lower the tip goes, seeking out that wetness, the hunger. It slides in easily, but only the tip at first. I want to savour the sensation of satisfaction and yet denial.
My hips slide down further, fully opening my cunt and I slide the vibrator in making each movement stretch the moment. Each depth getting to fully feel before going in deeper. I feel it hit the back wall of me and slip it into place and holding it there with the seam of my shorts. My body starts to jerk upwards and then back down. Trying so hard to get that pumping motion it longs for, but not yet. Not now.
As my body increases its rhythm, my other fingers search out my clit. I can no longer make this slow. I want. I use two fingers to capture the bead between my lips and a finger to hold them open. I start to flick my clit back and forth and then grab and pinch it. I moan and buck my hips. I can feel my wetness squeezing around the sides of the vibrator.
‘Oh fuck. Fuck me please.’ I call out to the empty room. I let the dance of my fingers continue, gathering momentum as my body responds. My hips thrust upwards. My thigh muscles clench and release. Each moment, my mind hazes and fogs. ‘Yes, please, Sir, please may I come?’ I know you. I can see you standing there, watching and shaking your head. I grit my teeth as I hold on and keep my orgasm at bay. It’s become a frenzied bucking up into the sky, swearing with each flick of my clit. I can feel the sweat starting to bead on my forehead as my hand continues to push my arousal further. I slam my head against the back of the chair in time to my thrusts. Every part of me is screaming, desperate, sitting on the brink, teetering there. My muttering increases. ‘Fuck, oh fuck, fuck, please, please, please, Sir, may I? Please?’ I hear it then in my mind, the permission granted. I scream into the room as my whole body spasms, tensing more and more as the orgasm is ripped from inside me and all the desire pouring out of me, drenching me and the chair. My scream turns into moans as I continue to thrust and suck from my body every sensation it is willing to give. my mind is silent, pure and empty. Just experiencing, feeling. In your hands, nothing more.
My movements start to subside, my breathing slows. I hesitantly pull my fingers away and bring them to my lips. I push them into my mouth and bathe them with my tongue until they are clean. With my other hand, I reach in and turn off the vibrator. As the hum ceases, so do my hips as even the smaller movements cease. Gingerly, i remove the shaft and pull it all the way out. I raise this, too, to my mouth and suck the sweetness of myself from all around it. I place it back on the table beside me. I leavr my legs splayed open, feeling the wetness running down my thighs. My mind buzzes with a white noise, as I drift off into sleep. As I go, I whisper, 'thank you, Sir,' and the world is gone.
Consequences
True. He didn’t say I could. But I certainly know he didn’t say I couldn’t. I mean, c’mon, it’s been at least three days since my last orgasm. What’s a girl to do? I waiver for just a moment. Consequences. The unwelcome word brushes against my mind. I smirk and then a broad smile breaks across my face.
I lick my lips as my hunger rises. I open my knees and spread my legs wide. This one, this one I’m going to enjoy. As soon as the decision was made in my mind, I could feel my wetness start to grow. I take one finger and dip it into my hungry cunt, and let it linger for the briefest of moments before pulling it back out again. I raise my finger up to my nose and breathe in deeply. The smell of myself only serves to increase my hunger. I pop my finger into my mouth and slowly suck down the length of it as I then lick my wetness away.
I slip my finger down to my cunt and gently trace around my lips, feeling the wetness increase. My other hand sneaks inside the side of my basketball jersey and find my nipple there. Slowly, I flick my nipple with my finger and feel it begin to harden. I grab my nipple between my finger and thumb. I pinch down hard and twist my nipple while at the same time, shoving my finger into my cunt. I moan as my arousal spikes. That’s just what I like. Some pain to help bring the pleasure into focus.
I slide another finger in and start pumping. I can feel my desire mounting. My body is so hungry. I brace my heels against the footstool as my hips raise up out of the chair. I hear a voice inside my head, ‘you like that don’t you? You love fucking your own pussy. To sit there and fuck the air. What a hungry little slut you are.’
I answer into the empty room, ‘yes, I do, I know exactly how I like it. Just like that,’ I say as I pull my fingers out of my cunt and slap down hard on my pussy. A moan of pure pleasure sneaks out of me. ‘More,’ I beg. Again my hand rises into the air and cuts through the air as it slaps down hard. ‘Yes, please, again,’ I beg myself. I raise my hand up into the air and prepare to feel it come lashing down when all the sudden a quiet, tinny ping echoes around the room. I grit my teeth and mutter under my breath. Buzzing through my brain, trying to bombard its way through my pleasure is only one thought. Please don’t let it be him.
I glance over at my phone. The message is crystal clear. ‘What are you doing?’ At the back of my head, a voice is screeching at me. No, no, no, no, NO! I let go of my nipple and try to slow my rampant breathing. I close my eyes and try to focus, to think clearly. After all, he doesn’t know anything. He can’t see me. My heart rate slows and I wipe my finger on my leg and pick up my phone.
‘Ummmmmm, nothing?’ I respond. Oh yeah, that was smooth. I can almost hear his voice through the screen. He might not know, but with something as vague as that, he will definitely know something. When will my brain ever learn that you don’t have to put in a text exactly what your mouth might say in the same situation.
Another ping. ‘That surprises me. Are you sure you’re not up to anything? After all, it has been three looooong days. Has it not? So, you wouldn’t be, say, fingering yourself? Or maybe have clothespegs clamped to your nipples?’ I glance to the clothespegs on the shelf next to me. ‘How unlike my very hungry slave. I would have thought you’d be doing at least playing with your clit, but if you’re telling me that you’re doing nothing, then surely that must be precisely what you are doing. Is that not correct, slave?’
I grit my teeth. Fuck! I sigh and pick up my phone. My fingers fly across the keys. ‘Okay, maybe not nothing. Maybe, just maybe, I had a couple of fingers shoved in deep as I was preparing to clamp my nipples. But! I had only just started, and you know, you didn’t tell me that I couldn’t and I know you’ve been busy and so much on your plate and I didn’t want to bother you to ask if I could. I thought it’d be better if I took things into my own hands and just let you get on with it. Ummmm, Sir?’ I roll my eyes at myself.
’Whose cunt is that? I don’t believe that is yours. As a matter of fact, I happen to know it is mine and not yours. You wouldn’t be playing with something of mine without permission, would you? Because, you know, that would just be foolish. Now, I ask you again, what are you doing?’
Crap. This is not going to be good. I type in, I was playing with your cunt, Sir. I shake my head at myself. You knew. Of course I knew. I should have asked, but I didn’t and now, there were going to be consequences.
Tell me, slut, do you remember early in our acquaintance when you were at my home? We all decided to journey to a friend‘s house for a gathering of fun? We made our way to one of the rooms and I reminded you that you were mine. I told you to look around the room and name anything at all that you could see. Anything that you named, I could use as an implement to bring pleasure or indeed, punishment. Do you remember what I did with the stapler you’d selected. You never looked at staplers the same way again, I’d wager. So, slut, look around the room and tell me what you can see.
I look around the small room. ’Well, Sir, there’s the television, my bookcase full of books, my exercise bike, my wet suit, my cricket bat, my blanket, a pillow, and my mug. That’s it.’ I keep my eyes on the three little dots at the bottom of the screen. I hold my breath, but I suspect I know what’s coming.
‘Whore. You’re going to need to stand up.’ I stand up. ‘Now, I know, that as you were playing with my cunt, you will be pretty soaking wet. So, I need you to pick up that cricket bat, and I want you to insert the handle of that bat into that wet cunt.’ I reach over and grab the cricket bat. I spread my legs and slide the handle up inside of me. My legs uncomfortably bowed out from the width of the blade. I feel pulled apart and uncomfortable, but it still feels good. I feel the urge to start pushing the bat deeper. Before I get into any more trouble, I grab my phone, ‘It’s in, Sir’.
’Good girl. Now, what I want you to do is put the tip of the bat to the ground. Once the tip is resting on the ground, I want you to lower yourself down deeper on the handle to the point where your legs are spread wide, the handle is deep inside of you, and it is merely this stance which keeps the bat standing up. I rest the bat as instructed and I begin to slowly lower myself down the length of the handle. My feet are on tiptoes but my body gives me away. I can feel the wetness beginning to encase the handle. ’Now, bitch, don’t move. I know you will want to grind, you will want to ride that handle and pump up and down on it until you cum. I’m not sure I’ll let you do that. It depends on just how good you are now. So, for the next five minutes, I want you to stay in that position. No sliding up and down, no clamping your muscles down, nothing other than feeling violated by the bat. Because that’s what you did. You violated what belongs to me.
I respond back, ‘yes, Sir’. I know this is going to be hard. The first thing to try to give in is that my body wants to slide up and down the length of the handle. I just want to bury it deeper. I want to shove it all the way in, to feel it slam into the back of me. Part of me wonders if it would be more like a cock or would it feel more like being fisted. I don’t really care which. I just want to cum. I bite back the urge and look at the clock. Are you kidding me? Not even a minute has gone by. Okay, this may be a lot harder than I thought. I try to take deep breaths but with each breath, I can feel the bat inside me. Oh hell. Next my muscles start trying to clench. If my legs aren’t going to drive the bay in, then my muscles seem convinced that they are going to suck them in deeper. I clamp my teeth down and try to get my muscles to hold on tight but not to clench and unclench. I take a side glance at the clock. Two minutes down. I don’t even realise it until I catch my reflection in the television screen. My hips are rolling and causing the bay to move around in a circular motion inside of me. I groan as I try to make my hips stop. In the end, I have to place My hands on my hips to get them to stop. What is the stupid time? Had that clock stopped? There’s no way that’s only three minutes. I can now feel my wetness running down the shaft of the handle. The whole room smells of me.
I grab my phone. Just that small motion had me trying to pump and grind with the bat Inside me. ’Please, Sir, I’m sorry. I really am, but I desperately need to fuck this bat. my whole body wants it. To shove it deep inside of me, to slide up and down feeling the handle sliding in deeper and then pulling back out. I want to fuck fast and hard and make myself scream. Please, Sir, May I?’
‘I count that as only three and a half minutes, slut. What I need you to do right now is take a selfie. I want to see a picture of you fucking your cricket bat. I want to see that desire in your face, the hunger in every taught muscle in your body. I want you to know it’s up to me when you cum, when you feel release, or indeed if you do at all.’
This then is the punishment. It was all working up to this moment. I can’t. I really really can‘t. My body screams at me that I damn well better because it is not going to be denied because of my stupid pride. The internal debate rages inside of me. It’s one thing for him to see me like this, another for him to have a permanent reminder of my desperation. As I feel my need rise, I snatch my phone and snap the picture and send it on its way.
‘What a good little whore. Remember, you’re the one who wanted to cum. Next time, maybe you’ll think twice before doing so without asking me. Now, we’re nearly done here, but not quite. You may now pump and grind and slam your pussy on that handle as much as you like, but you will record the sound as you do so. I want you to hear every sound of your hunger.’
Bastard! Thank goodness he’s only on the phone, but really, I don’t think I could hold out any longer anyway. I hit the record button on my phone and instantly I start sliding up and down. A groan escapes me. That is so deep. So fucking deep and so hard. Feel it there. Feel my thighs burn as they squat up and down taking the handle in deeper. Faster I slide up and down. It feels so good. So damn good. My pace becomes frenzied as my hips get in on the action. I hear the sound of the wetness squelching, the slight pop of the suction each time I drive myself up and then down. Oh my cunt. It’s so full and so wet.i pump don harder and faster. ’C’mon bitch, f it, fuck it you dirty little whore. You like doing that don’t you. You’re loving this fucking bat in your pussy. Keep going. Slam it deep. Oooooh!!! Fuck me! Oh! Yes! Yes please! Fuck me! I beg you! Fuck it hard. Slide that dirty little cunt all the way down until you feel like that handles going to pop out through your mouth you dirty, hungry, horny, desperate little whore! A scream tears out of my throat as my orgasm rocks through me. It goes on and on. Oh thank you. Thank you so much. Thank you. Oh yes. Yes. Thank you. Gradually, my breathing slows, my body stops thrashing, I fall back across the footstool and gently, oh so gently, pull the cricket bat out of my cunt. I close my eyes and fall back.
I don’t know how much time has passed when my eyes next open. I reach for my phone. I know what I need to do. I listen to the sound recording. I had no idea. None at all that all of those things weren’t running through my head. I was telling them out at myself. This is going to be more mortifying than I thought. First the picture, and now this. I shake my head and hit send. I sit there, still recovering when an answering ping catches my attention a few minutes later. I look down at the screen.
‘Whose cunt it that?’ I respond back with a single word.
Yours.
Absentmindedly
I didn’t even realise I was doing it. I was completely unaware until I went to reach for my glass of water. I had pulled my shirt up over my breasts and was slowly running two fingers ever so gently around my right nipple. Once I realised, I was loathe to take my fingers away. It was so light and subtle and there was a sweetness to it that I couldn’t resist. I licked my lips and decided I didn’t need that glass of water as much as I thought I did. I let my attention again go out of focus as I continued to tease my nipple into a lovely taut hardness. I eye up my glass of water again. Granted, to reach it, I’d have to remove my fingers, but something catches my eye. There’s ice in that water. I smile wickedly to myself and with a force of will, relinquish my playing to take that drink of water but to also plunge my hand into that water to retrieve one of the ice cubes.
I take the ice cube and continue my lazy circles. My body responds strongly to the ice and my nipple is quickly hard and solid. I flick at it with my other hand and that sweet pain tweaks through me. That is definitely not going to be sufficient to my needs this evening.
I lean over and grab one of the clothespegs sitting on the bookshelf by my chair. I snap it without a moment‘s hesitation and gasp sharply as it clips down hard onto my frozen nipple. That is definitely better. I pinch down on the clamp and twist it hard around to the right. I stamp a foot on the ground and throw my head back. I can feel myself beginning to get wet. I hear your voice in the back of my mind, ‘Are you ever not hungry, my dear slut?’
‘Seldom, Sir’ I answer aloud. ‘It seems a pity to waste a good ice cube, Sir, don‘t you think?’ I hear your chuckle in response.
‘Go ahead then, slave. I’d hate to interrupt your ministrations when I so enjoy watching you squirm.’ I blush brightly, but I’m not a fool. I’m not going to pass up an opportunity to release the tension riding throughout my body.
I move the ice to my other nipple. At first, I just set it on top of my nipple as I watch it harden and rise of its own accord. I hold it there. Longer. Just a bit more, until I pull it away. ‘Clothespegs, whore, NOW!’ I snatched it rapidly and clamp it down hard.
‘Oh, thank you, Sir, you do know what I like.’
‘And why would I not know what my slave likes, craves? That’s pretty close to impertinenc, wouldn’t you say? As you know, impertinenc can be a very fine line. Are you sure that’s a line you want to walk this evening? Now twist your nipples. Harder! Further!’ Oh, I can feel my arousal growing. I moan with pleasure. I do so love the pain. ‘This time, I want you To clamp your fingers over the clothespegs pads and squeeze your nipples in between those teeth. Then, when I say, I want you to squeeze down and twist with all your might. Please me well and we just might please you this evening as well.’
I keep my eyes on my breasts as I start squeezing my nipples even harder between the clothespegs. Just as I think I’ve adjusted, I add a little more force. I try hard to keep my eyes open. I want to close my eyes and feel the desire build within my body and mind. ‘NOW!’ And I wrench hard with my fingers, twisting my nipples a full 180 while squashing the tips. ‘Oh, oh Sir, thank you. Thank you so much,’ I manage to gasp out.
‘Nice, slut. Now, release your fingers but leave the clothespegs on.’ I’m torn. I don’t want to let go. I don’t want the pain rippling through me to stop. I like the way the need is growing inside of me and the wetness that I can feel building. ‘Tut, tut, slut. Are you not following directions? That’s just not on. Let go, now.’ Regretfully, I do as he asks, but now I’m wondering if those few moments of added pleasure were worth whatever consequences may lay before me.
I see you’ve dropped your ice. How very remiss of you. Grab another one, whore.’ I reach over and grab another ice cube out of my glass. ‘Spread your legs for me, slut. Let me see that beautiful pussy of yours.’ I do as he asked, squirming in my discomfort of so exposing myself. ‘Now take that lovely little ice cube and rub it all around your hungry little clit. I want to see if go rock hard and turn that brilliant shade of maroon I so like to see.’ I swallow hard. This, I’m not used to. I take a deep breath and press the ice cube to my clit. Oh holy hell! My legs go wider. My hips rise up. Oh, this definitely was not what I was expecting, it hurt but in such a brilliantly wonderful way. I would very much like to get used to this, I think as I continue to tease myself. ‘Now, now, time to take it away, don’t you think, whore?’
‘No! No, Sir, just a bit longer, please, just a short bit. I’ll be ever so good if you let me.’ I can feel my hips wanting to start thrusting upward.
‘Again? I’m sure that was an order. You are in rare form this evening, but aren’t you? So very impertinent.’ I hear the sound, but before I can recognise it the leather single tail smacks across first one breast, then the other, torturing my nipples all the more. Four more times I hear the swish of the air before the contact with my breasts which causes me to arch my back and buck upwards with desire. I hear the swish again. I try to prepare myself, but I couldn’t have imagined what was coming my way. The snap of the leather and the movement of air before it slammed down on my ice hardened clit. A scream flew out of my mouth. Again, four more times I felt it snap across my most sensitive of places. I could feel my mind fog as desire took over my thoughts. It was so painful and yet I loved it. I was so glad to have been given this gift. It’s in that moment I realise I’ve not thanked him.
‘Thank you, please, thank you, Sir, I am so grateful, it feels so good, I am your slave, happy to do with as you will, thank you, sir.’ I realise I’m rambling but I can’t seem to string a full sentence together. I hear him chuckle lightly again.
‘Oh, slut, you have no idea. No idea how tempting you look with your legs spread wide, feet braced on the floor, and pussy open to all. Speaking of which, could you join me, please?’ I try to focus, to open my eyes but right now I can only seem to take the pleasure that is burning into my flesh. ‘You remember my good friend?’ I turn my eyes on the newcomer and recognise him immediately. He is a good friend of my Master. A shiver of embarrassment shoots through me And I try to pull my legs together. I feel his hands on my thighs. ‘I don’t think that’s going to play tonight. I’ve had quite enough of your disobedience tonight. Open them back up.’ I swallow hard as I do what he asks. I’ve no doubt his compatriot can see everything, including my utter wetness.
‘Now, I’d like you to show my friend here how you like to please yourself, slut.’ I start to shake my head and the inevitable whistle of leather through the air comes to me, but I buck back as I realise he has changed tools and the full width of the leather belt smacks across my cunt. I scream as the pain rifles through me. My hips start bucking. Oh no, no, no. If I come now, without asking, there really will be hell to pay. I tense my muscles trying to prevent them from thrusting upward, seeking release. I hear him clear his throat. I quickly drop the ice and fin my clit with my fingers. Fuck! It’s a triple whammy. My clit is still hard from the ice, stinging from the whip and burning from the belt. Then the cold hits me again. Stupidly, I’d not even thought about the fact that my fingers had been holding an ice cube up until a few moments ago. The minute I touch my clit, I moan loudly, and slide my ass towards the end of the chair, my hips raise up into the air and I increase the speed as I run my fingers back and forth across my nib.
‘Please, Sir, May I cum?’
I hear his wicked laugh. ’Oh no, slut, nothing so easy this evening, I think. Impertinence, you know. Now, I could now ask my friend to go get another piece of ice and rub it back over your clit to keep it nice and cool as I’m sure we don’t want you to overheat, BUT, I know just how hard it is going to be for you to pull those fingers of yours away to reach out and grab the ice and once again, cool down your clit, though it does seem the more we cool it, the hotter it gets. So, slave, stop playing with yourself, get another piece of ice and ice yourself down again please. I grit my teeth and am tempted to mutter under my breath, but catch myself just in time. The minute the ice makes contact with my sensitive organ, my ass flies up off the chair. I thrust, harder and harder in the air, each thrust causing the clothespegs on my nipples to smack and twist of their own accord sending even more pain shooting through me.
‘Please, now sir? May I come?’ There is a pained tone in my voice. I don’t honestly know if I can hold off.
’No, slut. Keep going.’ I hold the ice there, bucking up and down, thrusting up my hips, I can hear the clothespegs smacking against my flesh. I shake my head from side to side but that seems to only jiggle the clothespegs more, teasing me more. The speed of my hips increases. I want to pull the ice away, but then again, I don’t want to pull it away. ‘Shove the ice cube into your hungry fucking hole, slut.’ I don’t hesitate and shove it in. A low moan begins inside my chest and grows and grows until it forces itself out from behind my lips. ‘Play with your clit, now, dear.’ I do as he asks. I can feel tears forming at the corner of my eyes. I must be a spectacle but I can’t help myself. I need it. I want this. My fingers flick rapidly back and forth, bringing me closer and closer to the edge. I want to scream out. My head just rocks back and forth, animal noises echo in my ears. Harder and harder I fuck the empty air while my fingers fiddle my clit which wants nothing more than release.
‘Please…..please….i want….please…May I? Please? Sir? May I come? May I show you? Please sir, please!’ I’m desperate now. It seems forever before I hear his voice.
‘What do you think, would you like to see her come? We can just leave her like this. Come back to her later? Should we let her? Do you think she has done enough to earn that treat?’ I am screaming inside my head. They can’t leave me like this! I must come! I manage to keep it in my mind as more moans fill the room.
The two men move forward, it’s only then that I really see them. I realise they are standing there, each with their cocks in their hands, stroking, pulling, teasing. They increase the speed. My body still writhes for release. I want those cocks. I don’t care where. I just want them. Now! ‘Fuck me, please fuck me, fill me up, both of you please,’ but they ignore my pleas. I keep fucking my clit but feeling a new hunger growing inside me. Now my body is just jerking in every direction begging to be filled.
’Come NOW bitch!’ I don’t have to be told twice, I release the last wall if put up to hold my orgasm back. I scream and scream as my whole body strains and shakes and pushes up in the air as my release shakes me down to my toes. I feel my wetness come spraying out, making my embarrassment complete. At that precise moment, both men step closer as they shoot their loads all over my body. It seems to keep coming. More and more. My mind swims away from me. ‘Rub it in,slave.’ I finally remove my finger from my clit as shockwaves still jerk me involuntarily. I place my hands on my stomach and start to rub their semen all over my stomach, and over my breasts. I slide my fingers through the still warm come and blend them together covering my entire torso. ‘Good girl. Now, lick your fingers and hands clean.’ I do that but as I do so, I imagine just what it would have felt like to have both men alternate turns, fucking my mouth. In the corner of my mind, I hear someone counting down. 3-2-1-Now! Each one of them grabs one of the clothespegs, twists hard and them takes them off my nipples. My body shoots back into the air as blood returns to my nipples and I scream as yet another orgasm shakes through what feels like every nerve in my body. I fall back and fall asleep.